#but the second he sees them he's rushing off to the bathroom retching

[tending-the-hearth]

edmund absolutely adored snowy weather. waking up to snow on the ground was his dream come true, and he rarely waited long enough to be bundled up before rushing outside and leaping into the fluffy, cold snow. it was his favorite weather, and that was one trait about him that always made his mother and father laugh.

but upon the pevensie's return home, their mother notices the shift in edmund.

one evening, as it gets closer to christmas, she notices the snowfall outside, and smiles, calling to edmund, announcing the snow with the expectation that he'll rush to the glass, press his nose up against it, and ask delightedly if they can go sledding in the morning.

instead of the joyful shine in her youngest son's eyes, however, she sees nothing but horror as he abandons his chess game with susan in favor of scrambling backwards, getting as far away from the window as possible, curling up into the tiniest ball, his face pressed into his knees.

she's left at a loss for words, and reaches out for him, but she's too slow compared to his siblings. immediately, lucy's at her brother's side, crouching in front of him and holding his hands tightly as she whispers soft things in a nonsensical language. peter's grabbing the warmest blanket from the couch, and sitting beside edmund, wrapping it around his shoulders and tucking his brother against his side. susan's returning from the kitchen where she had rushed off to as soon as her mother announced the snow, a steaming mug of tea (not hot chocolate, never hot chocolate. the taste makes edmund want to vomit, memories of cold touches burning his skin, and tempting whispers of power in his ears) held tightly in her hands before it's passed off to edmund.

their mother can only watch as edmund shakes, eyes firmly fixed on lucy's face as she holds his hands with a smile, as peter begins speaking softly, a whispered story only for his siblings' ears, as susan gently runs her fingers (warm and firm, never cold and frail like the ones that haunt edmund's dreams) through his hair.

edmund doesn't love snow anymore.

[httpvomitello]

your writing is amazing! Do you mind if I make a request?

So, reader and the guys are already in a relationship and have been for a good few years now, but one day, reader stops answering phone calls and texts for afew days. Worried, the guys come to their apartment to find them throwing up with a positive pregnancy test on the side of the sink, only to find out reader is absolutely terrified of their reaction. How would they react?

No pressure whatsoever to do this ask, I still love your writing! Have a good day

Awwn, reading such nice comments makes me very happy. Hope you like it! ♡♡♡♡

Leo was used to you being independent. He admired that about you

How you handled your life and problems with confidence

But after two days of silence, unanswered calls, and no texts, his patience wore thin

He’d tried to convince himself that you just needed space, but as a third day passed without a single word, he couldn’t wait any longer

Leo made his way to your apartment, a knot of anxiety twisting in his gut

He didn’t want to overreact, but something about the silence felt wrong

You never went off the grid like this

He knocked on your window gently at first. “(Y/N)?” he called out

When there was no response, he knocked harder

Still nothing

He pressed his ear to the window, listening for any sound inside, and when he heard a faint noise, like retching, his heart leapt into his throat

He hurried through the apartment, following the sounds from the bathroom

Pushing the door open, he found you hunched over the toilet, pale and trembling

“(Y/N)!” he exclaimed, rushing over to you

As Leo knelt beside you, his eyes caught something on the sink: a small, plastic stick with two pink lines

A Pregnancy Test

His breath caught in his throat as he slowly realized what it meant. “Oh… oh no…”

You glanced up at him, tears brimming in your eyes. “Leo… I didn’t mean for this to happen,” you said, your voice cracking. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I’m so scared…”

Leo’s heart broke seeing you like this

He knelt beside you, placing a steady hand on your back, his touch firm but gentle. “(Y/N)...” he called softly. “You don’t have to do this alone. I'm here now, my love.”

Despite the panic rising in his chest, Leo kept his voice steady

He couldn’t let his own fear show, not now

You needed him, and he wasn’t going to let you face this without him.

Raph hated waiting

When you stopped answering his texts, he tried to play it cool, telling himself you’d get back to him when you could

But as the hours turned into days, his patience evaporated

By day three, he was convinced something was wrong

He wasn’t one to sit back when the people he cared about were in trouble, so he took matters into his own hands

Raph stomped over to your apartment, his mind racing. What if something bad happened to you? What if you were hurt? His thoughts spiraled into worst-case scenarios as he banged on your door

“(Y/N)!” he called, his voice rough with worry

When there was no response, he didn’t hesitate

He forced the door open and stormed inside, searching for any sign of you

The faint sound of you throwing up in the bathroom was all he needed to hear before he rushed in

He found you crouched over the toilet, your body shaking as you threw up

His heart dropped at the sight, but before he could say anything, his eyes landed on the small plastic stick on the sink

His whole world seemed to tilt for a second as he processed what it was

“Babe…” he muttered, his voice suddenly soft. “Is that what I think it is?”

You turned to look at him, tears rolling down your cheeks as you nodded. “I didn’t know how to tell you...” you whispered

Raph felt his chest tighten as he knelt down beside you

He wasn’t good with emotions, but seeing you so vulnerable made something click inside him

He gently pulled you into his arms, his touch tender

“Hey, don’t cry,” he murmured. “We’ll figure this out. I ain’t goin’ nowhere. You ain’t gotta do this alone, okay?”

Donnie was practical, rational

He didn’t panic easily, but after three days of unanswered texts and no response to his calls, even he started to worry

He ran through every logical explanation in his mind

Maybe you were busy, maybe your phone died, but none of it sat right with him

His concern finally pushed him to action

He made his way to your apartment, his heart racing with a mix of worry and curiosity

When he knocked on your door, there was no answer

He called your name softly, but the silence that greeted him made his stomach twist

He let himself in, hoping to find you safe and well

But when he heard the sound of you crying in the bathroom, his concern shot through the roof

“(Y/N), are you alright?” Donnie’s voice was filled with worry as he rushed into the bathroom

There you were, hunched over the toilet, pale and shaky

Before he could even reach out to help, his eyes fell on a small object sitting on the sink

A positive pregnancy test

His brain momentarily short-circuited as he stared at it, trying to process what it meant. “Are you…?” He trailed off, his voice barely above a whisper

You turned your tear-filled eyes to him, your voice trembling. “I’m pregnant, Donnie… and I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Donnie’s mind tried to piece it all together, but nothing in his years of scientific training had prepared him for this

He never thought something like this would be possible to happen

He swallowed hard, moving closer to you, his hand resting gently on your shoulder

“You don’t have to be scared,” he said softly. “We will do our best to take care of this baby. ”

Mikey wasn’t usually the type to worry

He tried to keep things light, stay positive

But when you stopped answering his texts, he couldn’t help but feel like something was off

Five days without a word from you? That wasn’t like you at all

At first, he sent funny memes and jokes, hoping to get a response, but when nothing came back, his anxiety bubbled up

He didn’t waste any more time, he went straight to your house to make sure everything was okay

When he knocked on your window, there was no answer, so he let himself in, calling out for you. “Babe? Where you at?

But there was no response

The sound of you in the bathroom was all he needed to hear

“Angelcakes? You okay?” he asked as he peeked into the bathroom, only to find you hunched over the toilet

Mikey rushed to your side, worry etched all over his face

But then he saw it, the positive pregnancy test sitting on the sink

His eyes widened, and his brain struggled to catch up. “Wait… are you…?”

You nodded, tears spilling down your cheeks. “I’m so scared, Mikey....”

Mikey’s heart practically broke at the sight of you so scared and vulnerable

Without missing a beat, he knelt beside you and pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly

“Babe, you don’t have to be scared,” he said, his voice full of warmth and reassurance. “We got this. We’re gonna be the best parents ever, I promise!”

His infectious optimism made you feel just a little bit better, and even though you were still scared, you couldn’t help but smile through your tears. “Really?”

“Really,” he grinned. “I’m gonna teach our little dude... uh, or dudette, all my best moves!”

[sickficideas]

psychic lover || suegiku sickfic

ao3! please refer to the tags in the link for content + warnings! sicktember 2023, alt 3: pounding headache

“Jouno? Are you in here?”

Tecchou pokes his head into the restroom, and at first, he’s only met with an echo. Normally, that would be enough evidence for him to continue his search for his colleague elsewhere, but he’s spent the past half hour looking around their headquarters for him with no luck.

So he decides to hang around for just a few more seconds. He knows he can’t outsmart Jouno. If he is in here, he’ll know Tecchou hasn’t left, and he can’t fake footsteps in the other direction, either.

Tecchou leans against the wall in the hallway entrance to the restroom and waits.

“You really piss me off,” the voice finally says. Hoarse and generally sounding unwell. Tecchou had a feeling something wasn’t right with him. He’s been much less hostile today. Honestly, he thinks this is the first rude comment he’s gotten from him all morning. “Don’t you have better things to do than to stalk me, Tecchou?”

Tecchou almost tells him that no, he actually doesn’t have anything better to do, but before he can, he hears Jouno retch so hard that it sounds painful. Tecchou tenses up at the sound of it, and almost expects more comments to follow, but he just ends up breathing heavily for the next few seconds before Tecchou walks further into the bathroom, quickly locating the stall that Jouno is curled up in. His cape and hat are on the floor near the entrance, like he was in a rush to take them off.

“Are you sick?” Tecchou asks, tilting his head at the door.

“Get out of here before I make you leave, Tecchou,” Jouno grumbles, his voice trembling and softer than before, but the threat he’s making is very real.

“I was just asking,” Tecchou defends with a pout. Jouno seems to think Tecchou has some ulterior motives to being a decent human being sometimes. He really doesn’t. He just wants to know what’s going on. “You sound sick.”

“I’m not sick. Go mind your own business,” Jouno huffs. Tecchou sees him shift under the door.

“Did you not just -”

“It’s a headache. And you’re making it worse. So get. Out,” Jouno hisses, injecting far more venom into his tone with that than anything else he’s said today so far.

It’s all starting to make a lot more sense.

Tecchou isn’t sure he would call them simple headaches. What Jouno suffers from must be something closer to migraines, because they really severely debilitate him. Throwing up like this isn’t uncommon for him at all, and voices or sounds of any kind seem to make him feel much, much worse because of those heightened senses he has.

Tecchou understands what he needs to do. Fix everything on the outside, and then go help Jouno.

“I’ll be right back,” Tecchou says, as quietly as he can muster, because he knows Jouno will hear him regardless. He hears Jouno grumble something back, but Tecchou’s already on his way out of the restroom.

Thankfully, he catches sight of another Hunting Dog just as soon as he turns the corner. Tachihara’s a bit late as usual, but on time for him, considering his infiltration job. They had a meeting earlier this morning, and Jouno was the one who offered to pass along that information to Tachihara.

"Tachihara."

"Uh…yeah, Tecchou? What's up?" Tachihara says, looking a bit on edge. Tecchou isn’t sure why. Maybe he should have given him a normal greeting first, but Jouno is his priority right now.

"Tell Fukuchi that Jouno won't be able to finish today. He doesn't feel well," Tecchou says.

"Oh, is…is he okay?" Tachihara asks, his tense expression softening a bit.

“He has a bad headache,” Tecchou explains. He’s almost certain that Jouno can hear him and he’s almost expecting Jouno to suddenly appear between the two of them with a sword jabbed in Tecchou’s foot, but he never does. “Ask Fukuchi or Teruko to relay the information you missed this morning.”

“Oh - yeah, okay,” Tachihara nods. He doesn’t leave right away, interestingly enough. He looks like he wants to, but he stops, and eyes Tecchou again. “Is there - can I do something to help? Should I get one of the nurses?”

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Tecchou says. He briefly considered that, but Jouno hates receiving medical treatment of any kind. He always says he simply doesn’t need it, but he thinks it’s a very overwhelming process for him.

That’s the worst part of the headaches, Tecchou thinks. Jouno’s senses are so enhanced, and headaches would cause a person with standard senses enough pain as it is, but it’s so much worse for Jouno. He’s able to keep his head high most of the time, but Tecchou knows that everyone has a breaking point, and he’s hit it already. Tecchou thinks he knows what he can do.

“Can you ask the receptionists to clear the top two floors?” Tecchou asks. It’s a reasonable request, he thinks, but Tachihara’s eyes go wide.

“Clear them? Like, everybody out?” Tachihara asks. Tecchou nods back at him. The top two floors aren’t too densely populated, most of the people working up there have the ability to relocate to lower offices, he’s sure.

“That way I can take him up there and he can rest properly,” Tecchou explains. Tachihara seems to be figuring out the reason himself - Jouno wouldn’t be able to rest properly with a headache when there are people around, even on the floor below him. Tachihara is on his way soon enough, albeit hesitantly, and with him informing the rest of the team, all Tecchou needs to do now is get Jouno upstairs.

He walks back into the restrooms, as quietly as he can, but he’s sure in the end it makes no difference to Jouno. He’s quiet again for a few moments, focusing on Jouno’s heavy breathing. One breath ends in a pained groan before he decides to speak again.

“I can just go home, you know,” Jouno mumbles. Tecchou had considered that, but he’s sure it’s more of a last resort option than preferred - Jouno gets terrible motion sickness, and he doesn’t live close to their headquarters at all. That drive would just make him so much more miserable.

Tecchou brandishes his blade and extends it to travel over the door and unlock the stall with ease before placing it back in its sheath. He opens the door, which, to his surprise, makes an awful, high-pitched squeak, even loud for himself - Jouno, who has tucked himself in between the wall and the toilet, brings his hands up to his ears and almost whimpers. Tecchou isn’t used to hearing sounds like that from him.

“I’ll make sure they fix that,” Tecchou says in a whisper as he kneels down in front of Jouno. He studies his face for a moment. He’s incredibly pale, something he’d already taken note of earlier. There’s so much tension around his eyes, his face is so twisted up from the pain he’s feeling.

“I don’t get you,” Jouno barely manages. It almost sounds like he’s about to start crying, with the way his voice breaks at the end there.

Tecchou doesn’t entertain his taunts.

“Let’s go upstairs,” Tecchou says, reaching his hand out to graze Jouno’s as an offer to help him up, but Jouno only uses that hand to swat him away.

“I don’t need your help. Go find something better to do. Watch some ants or something,” Jouno groans as he uses the bar on the wall to help himself stand, but the way his legs are shaking is proof enough that he won’t make it very far. Tecchou lets him try, though, maybe he’ll prove him wrong - he backs up as Jouno leaves the stall, and he briefly slides in to flush the toilet. He’s concerned with how little he's actually thrown up. His guess is that he’s been dealing with this all morning and hasn’t eaten anything as a result.

Tecchou wishes he had noticed sooner. Jouno’s very good at hiding when he’s in pain.

Jouno kneels down to pick up his hat and cape with a shaky hand, but Tecchou’s faster than him, he takes both off of the floor and starts to neatly fold the cape. Jouno has this way of glaring at Tecchou without using his eyes. Scary.

“At least let me do this,” Tecchou says.

“You’ve done enough already. Stop bothering me,” Jouno grumbles as he tries to stand himself up, but evidently, he does it far too quickly - his expression relaxes and Tecchou thinks he’s fainted, just for a second, so he takes his arm into a firm grip to steady him.

“Are you alright?” Tecchou asks. Jouno hasn’t completely gone limp, he’s still standing against Tecchou, so thankfully he didn’t completely pass out. “Did you stand too fast?”

“Just take me upstairs,” Jouno mumbles, and Tecchou does as he’s asked. That was his plan anyway, he’s just glad Jouno has realized he can’t fight him on it anymore. Tecchou lays the back of his wrist over Jouno’s forehead just to make sure he isn’t running a temperature. It’s warm, but not any warmer than it should be.

The elevator is just down the hallway, but Tecchou doesn’t rush him. He has Jouno’s arm securely hooked within his. He’s slower than normal. He must still be in pain. Tecchou wonders if the act of walking is what’s painful, and for a second, he thinks about carrying him there instead.

“I’m not letting you carry me here,” Jouno huffs as they make it to the elevator. Tecchou presses the button. Tecchou doesn’t think Jouno can actually read minds. He’s just really good at making assumptions.

“Here? So you’d let me do it elsewhere?” Tecchou asks, purely out of curiosity, before they enter the elevator.

Jouno groans. “I really can't stand you, Tecchou."

That's not a no.

Once they’re inside, Jouno inadvertently answers Tecchou’s question and lays his head on Tecchou’s shoulder with a quiet, shaky sigh. He wraps his other arm around Tecchou’s for just a second before the elevator slows to their floor, and he slides his arm out as the doors open. Tecchou could feel his cheeks getting warm.

Tecchou still walks with him down to the end of the hallway. There’s a room with bunk beds they often use to rest in case they can’t go home for any reason. Tecchou wonders why he didn’t go here in the first place, so he could at least lay down - maybe he really couldn’t make it there by himself.

Jouno breaks off from him once they make it inside the room. He lays Jouno’s hat and cape on the desk as Jouno takes off his boots and crawls into the bed, not caring to remove the rest of his uniform. Tecchou doesn’t blame him. He takes off his own hat and cape before he disappears to the adjacent kitchenette to take something from the freezer.

Once he’s back in the room with Jouno, he shuts the lights off and sits at the edge of the bed, silent for a moment, just in case Jouno has already miraculously fallen asleep.

“Tecchou, please,” Jouno murmurs.

“This should help. Try it,” Tecchou says.

Jouno turns over to face Tecchou. “I’m not trying anything you’ve made -”

“It’s not edible. It’s an ice pack. You should put it on the back of your neck, it should help your headache,” Tecchou tells him, as convincing as he can sound. He hasn’t personally tried this, but he’s gotten icepacks for this purpose at Fukuchi’s request before.

Jouno almost looks like he’s about to turn back around, but Tecchou decides he’s just going to gently slide a hand under Jouno’s head to place the ice pack under his neck. Jouno, surprisingly, sinks into it without any fight back from Tecchou.

Jouno sighs and lays a hand over his forehead with a heavy sigh.

“I can’t believe you told Tachihara to evacuate the top two floors,” Jouno mumbles.

“Did he?” Tecchou asks. He didn’t think he could get it done that quickly, but Tachihara is very reliable when it comes to following orders.

“I don’t hear anyone.” Jouno confirms quietly. “Still, downstairs, but…it’s not nearly as loud.”

“Good,” Tecchou says. Even if that’s all that could be done, he’s glad they did it.

“It does feel a little better,” Jouno barely manages. Tecchou thinks he’s starting to get tired, which he believes must be a good sign. It’s not bothering him as much as before, he’s feeling okay enough to get tired. He didn’t think the ice pack would help that quickly, but maybe it’s a combination of everything. The quiet of the space, the comfort of the bed.

“I can get one for your forehead too,” Tecchou says.

“That’d...be good.”

Tecchou is swift in his strides back to the kitchenette to take another ice pack from the freezer, since even though it’s indirect, Jouno is finally accepting his help. He’s back at his side in no time at all to lay the ice pack on Jouno’s forehead. At first, he flinches at the sudden cold, but Tecchou watches his expression quickly relax. It’s good to know for the future that this is something that helps him.

“Do you have your cell phone on you?” Tecchou asks him. Jouno nods. “Okay. You can text me if you need something. I’ll be around.”

To his surprise, Jouno has nothing to say to that. He just grunts in acknowledgment, and with that, Tecchou stands up, and heads for the door.

Just before his hand touches the doorknob, he hears Jouno’s voice.

“Wait,” he murmurs. Tecchou freezes. “All of a sudden…you have something better to do?”

Tecchou lowers his hand. “No, not really.”

“Then stay,” Jouno says. This response is even more surprising than him saying nothing at all.

So, Tecchou does as Jouno asks of him. He takes off his boots and crawls onto the twin-sized mattress beside Jouno, who doesn’t make a single objection, no attempts to take back his request. Tecchou won’t lie, this is an opportunity he’ll gladly take after he didn’t get much sleep last night, but he’s sort of glad to be beside Jouno, too.

“You’re an idiot for going out of your way for me,” Jouno murmurs.

“It wasn’t out of my way,” Tecchou whispers. “I don’t want to see you miserable.”

Jouno huffs and turns his head, just enough to face Tecchou and to not move his ice packs too much. Tecchou turns so he’s laying on his side to face Jouno. His expression has relaxed considerably since the last time he studied his face like this.

Jouno’s hand reaches out to cradle the side of Tecchou’s face. He doesn’t say anything, but his hand is ice cold, just like his hands always are. Tecchou’s hands are often too warm for Jouno’s liking. Tecchou wonders sometimes if there’s any meaning behind that.

Tecchou lays his own hand on top of Jouno’s.

It’s not long before Jouno slides his hand away, and Tecchou wonders why he tried in the first place, up until Jouno catches Tecchou’s hand to squeeze it and lay between the two of them. It’s still so cold. Tecchou’s hands are bigger than Jouno’s, they’re rather dainty and delicate. Tecchou’s hand wraps around Jouno’s easily, and he squeezes it, just for a few moments before he relaxes again.

Tecchou wants to say something, but any ideas he has are dead on his tongue. Jouno is a very confusing person. One moment he’s yelling in Tecchou’s face and the next he’s lying beside him and squeezing his hand like his life depends on it. Tecchou’s cheeks get hot and pink like he’s embarrassed but he doesn’t know why.

“I like you too,” Jouno mumbles just as he starts to fall asleep.

Apparently, Jouno knows why.

[litgwritersroom]

Please, a vet Andy AU!

OH PAW-LEASE

Andy / OC - 4900+ words - @mrsbsmooth

Cass is having a day. And the fact that the hot vet gets to witness every bit of it? Great. Just great.

TW: Dog/Animal appears to be sick/injured, but is fine.

Cass rinsed the last of the conditioner out of her hair, and started on washing her body. 

Another Friday evening, and once again, she was getting ready to meet a Tinder date. If it hadn’t been for her friends’ insistence, she would’ve given up already. She didn’t really want to go out with yet another guy who only saw her as a piece of meat. She’d much prefer to just sit on her couch with a block of Cadbury Dairy Milk, breaking off piece by piece until she’d convinced herself someone had broken in and finished half the block when she wasn’t looking. Sounded like a great Friday night to her. But, once again, she found herself in the shower, getting ready to meet up with another guy who’d watched just enough of her TikToks to seem interested.

Should she shave? If she really liked a guy, she made him wait until the second date to fuck him.  Did she like him enough to make him wait for it?

She thought for a moment. 

And grabbed her razor.

Shaved, and smooth as a baby’s arse, the way men supposedly expected these days, Cass threw her hair up in a claw clip. She collected the outfit she planned on wearing. Tight black dress, lacy underwear, no bra. Her Friday night special.

Her dress safely removed from her dry-cleaning bag, she shuffled into her giant fluffy cat slippers. She pulled on her hair-dye-stained Pet Shop Boys t-shirt and a pair of comfy shorts she usually wore to walk Joshie, shoving the underwear in the pocket. 

But as if he could hear the swish of the shorts, Joshie appeared.

“No, Joshie, you’ve already had your walk. I’m going out.”

As if extremely unhappy with this arrangement, Joshie nudged the bathroom door open, and shoved his nose up the leg of her shorts. 

“No, Joshie, there’s no treats in the pocket either. You ate them all.”

Cass swore Joshie gave her fucking attitude as he turned and sauntered off. Bulldog mixes were sassy, but Joshie was just a brat. His smooshy, ugly face and little snaggletooth making him look as cranky and grumbly as any dog could look.

God, she adored him. 

She washed her face, pulled her cosmetics case from the cupboard, and slipped her makeup headband on. She took out everything she’d need to start with. Eyeshadow, eyeliner… where the fuck were her lashes? She’d had them when she did her last video, they had to be in here. She dug around for a few moments… until she heard it. 

It was an odd sound, a crinkling, light sound that kind of made her hungry. It was so familiar somehow. It almost sounded like…

“Joshie! No!”

Cass bolted down the stairs, and what she saw made her heart stop beating. 

Joshie, looking guilty, his paw on the bright purple chocolate wrapper.

He’d licked it clean. 

The sound that came out of Cass’s mouth was unlike one she’d ever heard before. Wail, cry, scream, all of them at once, she didn’t even bother grabbing his harness before picking him up and rushing out the door. All she grabbed was her keys and wallet, unlocking her car and throwing Joshie into the passenger seat before practically falling over herself to get to the driver's side. 

She couldn’t go back for her phone to call ahead. 

There was no time.

She gunned it out of the driveway, went 15 miles over the limit down her street, running a stop sign and flying onto the main road as she swung her tiny little Audi around every corner.

And Joshie was starting to look unwell. 

Cass could barely see as she sped toward the vet, sobbing her tiny heart out as she bartered and pleaded with whatever God she could think of, begging them to let Joshie be okay.

And then he started retching.

Cass screamed, swinging into the parking lot of the vet clinic and wrenching Joshie across to her side. He was so fucking heavy, but in the moment, she had all the strength in the world, bolting across the parking lot and reaching for the door.

She pushed it open, sobbing, as she pleaded. 

“Help! Help! Please! Fuck, please, help me!”

The receptionist jumped to her feet, rushing toward them with arms outstretched as Cass collapsed under Joshie’s weight, dropping his back legs to the floor.

“What happened?” the girl asked. 

“Chocolate, he ate chocolate, I don’t know how much, I think it was a lot.”

“How long ago?” she asked.

“Five? Ten minutes, maybe? I probably got flashed by four cameras on the way here.”

The girl nodded, looking in Joshie’s mouth as Cass just continued sobbing. 

“Please, please, if something happens to him– this dog is–”

She couldn’t finish the sentence.

Cass burst into tears again, her head pounding from the strength of her sobs. She could barely even breathe.

“Okay, it’s okay,” the girl soothed her. “You did the right thing bringing him in. We’ll get him in right now. Let me just check if the vet’s still here–”

“I’m here, Jen!” a voice called, and Cass went to pick Joshie up again. But as she slid her arm underneath his bum, she felt a hand on her arm. “Here, let me.”

She sniffed hard, and let go, turning to look up in the direction of the voice.

You have got to be fucking joking. 

Jesus Christ, if she hadn’t been so worried about Joshie, she might’ve dropped him. 

Just her luck, the vet had to be the most stunningly gorgeous handsome delicious beautiful sexy thing that had ever graced a white coat and a stethoscope. Dark hair, dark eyes, a K-Pop smile and an adorable little clear spacer earring. Urgh.

He went down on one knee, lifting her fatass bulldog mix off the ground as if he was a goddamn pomeranian, and carried him into the examination room.

“Alright,” he said, heaving Joshie onto the table. “What’ve you done, buddy? Had a little chocolate snack? Bet that tasted good.”

Cass sobbed a laugh, trying to hide her sniffles.

“I’m Dr. Kim, can you sit?”

Joshie sat gingerly. 

“Good boyyyyy. And can you…. shake?”

Dr. Kim held out his palm to Joshie, who simply stared off into space, groaning. Cass sniffled. 

“Oh, he doesn’t know–”

“That’s okay,” Dr. Kim chuckled, lifting Joshie’s paw up and shaking it like a person. “Nice to meet you… sorry, I don’t have his file. What’s his name?”

“Joshie. Er– Joshua. He’s a rescue– I didn’t– it’s not–”

Dr. Kim furrowed his brow in amusement… and he laughed. It was pure, so sparkling and crystalline, dazzling like a chandelier on a beautiful summer’s evening.

“I love when animals have human names. My dog’s Murph. Also got a cat named Susan and a turtle named Gerald.”

She smiled, weakly, her laugh at the adorable names stunted by the deep sense of dread that hung over her. 

“Alright, tell me about the chocolate. The type, how much, anything you know.”

Cass nodded, swallowing hard. “Cadbury dairy milk, the big block. But I don’t know how much he had. I just saw the wrapper, so he must’ve finished it. He was retching in the car on the way here.”

“And you said it was five or ten minutes ago?”

She nodded again.

Dr. Kim furrowed his brow, and opened Joshie’s mouth, he whined, pulling away, and Cass burst into tears again. 

The adrenaline was so high, rushing through her body and leaving her shaking at the thought of losing Joshie. She’d only had him for two years, but if anything happened to him… Oh, God, she couldn’t bear to even think about it. 

She sobbed, and Dr. Kim looked up, shooting her a sympathetic look as he fetched her a box of tissues. He stuck his head out the door, quietly saying something to Jen, and closed it again. Before she even had time to thank him for the tissues, Jen stuck her head in and passed Cass a glass of water. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he cooed, crouching in front of her. “I know it’s hard to watch, I’m sorry. But Joshie can sense that you’re stressing out, and he’s stressing out because he’s worried about you. Try and look at something else.”

Cass looked around the room, before finally settling on Dr. Kim’s deep chocolate brown eyes, but he shook his head, smirking a little. “No, not me. Why don’t you look at your absolutely awesome slippers?”

She dropped her eyes, blushing, and looked down, realising what she was wearing. The enormous, fluffy cat heads at the end bobbled as her leg bounced up and down. 

“Oh God,” she cringed. “How embarrassing.”

He chuckled, turning back to Joshie. “I love them. I’d be staring at them too if I was you.”

“Thank you,” she sobbed, wiping tears from under her eyes. “I just– thank you.”

Dr. Kim didn’t say anything, and Cass wasn’t looking at him, trying to dab at her throbbing eyes and stop her nose from running. But when she opened her eyes, she caught him. 

He was watching her. Like, watching her; a curiosity in his eyes that had her wondering what he was wondering. And why he was looking at her as if he thought she was cute or something. 

Oh, dear sweet God, she suddenly was granted the gift of shame. 

She was in the office of the hottest vet in the entire hemisphere, in oversized shorts, an 80’s t-shirt stained with hair dye, fluffy cat slippers and a fucking makeup headband. She would’ve looked like a pufferfish, her eyes and nose and cheeks bright red, snot and tears running down her face. Her hair was dripping wet down the back of her neck, she had zero makeup on… God, she hadn’t even brushed her teeth yet.

But before she could even finish internally cringing, Joshie threw up.

Cass’s heart stopped, and she reached out for Joshie to stroke his back, but he just threw up again, the awful, foamy liquid coating Dr. Kim’s exam table. However, Dr. Kim didn’t look at all phased. Instead, he leaned in closer. 

“Well, I have good news and bad news.”

She looked up, her bottom lip trembling. 

“Good news is, Joshie didn’t eat any chocolate.”

“What!?” she gasped. “Are you sure?”

Dr. Kim nodded. “Certain. The wrapper must’ve been empty.”

Cass blushed furiously. Great. And now the sexy vet knew she’d polished off an entire block of chocolate. 

“Not sure how it could’ve been empty… surely… impossible…” she said, cringing to herself.

Dr. Kim’s stupidly pretty lips curled into an amused smile. But if she thought she was embarrassed then…

“He did eat something, though.”

Cass’s eyes widened as Dr. Kim stuck his pen into the green foam. And held up something black.

Black. And lacy.

Cass’s hand slapped her shorts pocket, and found it horrifically and mortifyingly empty. 

Death. A swift death. 

Please, Lord, come on, he had her pants on his fucking pen.

“Oh my God,” she groaned, covering her face. “Oh my God.”

Dr. Kim laughed, grinning widely at her. “Don’t be embarrassed. This happens at least once a week.”

Cass uncovered her face and forced a smile at him. Forced. Like she was going to force Joshie off a fucking cliff for doing this to her.

“In fact, it’s pretty lucky he brought them back up. These can wreak havoc on a dog’s intestines if they move through.”

“Why would he have thrown them up?”

Dr. Kim smiled a little. “Well… you said you were driving pretty fast. He might’ve just been carsick.”

Cass took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly as she watched him ruffle Joshie’s ears.

“You’re lucky your Mum loves you so much, Joshie. If she hadn’t made you throw up you could’ve been in real trouble.”

Oh, God, did he have to be so Goddamn gorgeous?

Cass couldn’t help but shuffle in her slippers, feeling incredibly stupid and horrifically unattractive in the presence of a vet who was not only gorgeous, but also clearly loved his job, and animals. She would’ve called him a panty-dropper if she were wearing any.

“Thank you, Dr. Kim,” she said. “I’m really grateful.”

“Please, call me Andy,” he said. “I’m only Dr. Kim to my patients.”

Cass thought for a second, before furrowing her brow and laughing at the dumb joke. “I’ll make sure Joshie remembers it.”

“Better make sure he doesn’t eat anything else of yours,” Andy grinned. “If you came in here with one of those slippers all chewed up, I might cry.”

“You really like them?”

“I love them. Look, I shouldn’t say this…” Andy covered Joshie’s ears. “I like cats as much as I like dogs.”

Cass smiled, motioning to keep Joshie’s ears covered, and whispered. “Me too.”

“And I’ve gotta say, they look great with the Pet Shop Boys t-shirt.”

She looked down, cringing. “I swear I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Yeah, sure, I believe you.” Andy winked at her. 

“I’m serious!” she whined. “They’re one of my favourite bands.”

“Same,” he said with a smile. “It’s what my friends and I called ourselves at Uni.”

“Not the PAWlice?”

Andy beamed at her. “That was discussed. So was DePAWche Mode”

“Huey Lewis & The Mews.”

“Electric Light Pawchestra.”

“Salt-’N-Puppy. No, wait, The (laser) Pointer Sisters.”

“That one’s terrible,” he laughed. “But I admit, I could’ve vibed with Salt-’N-Puppy.”

“Should get some 80’s pop music going in here.”

“Nah, Jen would kill me,” he chuckled. “But I put my foot down at her Scandinavian horrorcore metal.”

Cass’s eyes widened, and Andy sighed. “You really are way too easy to mess with.”

She shot him a look of playful disapproval, and he grinned cheekily back. 

God, he was fucking cute. Deep, chocolate-brown eyes, soft black hair that was dying to have her fingers run through it. He was nice, funny, had great taste in music, great taste in slippers, and clearly adored animals… If only she’d looked the tiniest bit nicer, and hadn’t been such a goddamn fool today. Maybe had played it a bit cooler. Maybe hadn’t been so oblivious at his jokes.

Andy offered Joshie a little treat from the glass jar behind him, which he gladly accepted, chomping it down quite disgustingly and slobbering everywhere. Then, Andy turned the jar to Cass. 

She looked down at it, cringed, and looked up. “Thank you, but I’m vegetarian.”

Andy’s brow furrowed in confusion. “So am I… But, I was joking.”

“Oh… you were messing with me again,” she said. “Wow. Well done, me.”

Before Cass could keel over and die of embarrassment, Andy led her out to the front desk, and she placed her wallet and keys down to wipe her sweaty-ass hands on her shorts. 

Jen charged her card, and Cass stopped short of asking for a new emergency vet in the area so she would never ever have to face Andy again.

She picked up her keys and wallet, shoved them in her pocket, and picked Joshie up, carrying him to the car and sighing heavily as she heaved him into it. As she stood up, she smacked her head on the inside of the car door. She stumbled a little, and suddenly, out of nowhere, Andy appeared. 

“Oh my God, are you okay?” he asked, steadying her with his hands on her shoulders. She reached out to grab him, only managing to hook her hands onto his forearms, but as she did, she almost died. They were so firm, and not because he was flexing. That lab coat was hiding something– a physique that she could only dream about. He was fit. Fit fit fit fit fit.

She caught her breath for a moment, the pain searing through her like a knife as she shook it off.

“I’m fine, I’m totally fine,” she replied, forcing a smile. “Thanks.”

He looked at her with concern, and she looked back at him, feeling her cheeks flush a little as his strong hands held her shoulders. Damn. She kind of wished he’d grabbed her by the waist.

But something caught her attention in the corner of her eye. Andy had an opaque plastic baggie in his hand. She furrowed her brow at it… and then realised what was probably in it.

Cass wondered if her embarrassment would ever end.

Andy glanced at the baggie. “Sorry, I forgot to ask… Did you want these back?”

He’d tried to be discrete, but she knew what was in them. It wasn’t like she was going to wear them again. She was sure they had some god-awful biohazard bin he could dump them in.

“No, no, you can keep them.”

She knew what she’d said before the words had even finished leaving her mouth, but she couldn’t stop them. She didn’t say anything. He didn’t say anything. After the afternoon she’d had, she just…

Facepalmed. 

Cass couldn’t stop her laughter, and it was only after a few seconds she realised Andy was laughing as well. They couldn’t stop, cracking up into a fit of giggles in the carpark with Joshie wagging his tail like crazy in the front seat. 

“Okay, now I’m absolutely leaving. The sooner I get out of here, the sooner I stop humiliating myself.”

He sighed hesitantly.

She cringed. “What is it?”

Andy chuckled, biting his lip slightly. “Would now be the wrong time to tell you you’ve got fake lashes stuck to your headband?”

Cass tugged her headband off, inspecting it, and groaned, plucking them off. Andy was trying desperately to contain his laughter. 

“Oh my God, stop enjoying this so much!” she laughed.

“I can’t help it!” he laughed. “You’re easily the funniest person I’ve had today.”

Cass playfully glared at him. “Oh, I’m glad I could keep you amused.”

Andy settled, sighing contentedly. “I’ll be honest, it’s not every day that… what I mean to say is…” He trailed off, slipping his hands into his pockets and chewing his lip. 

“It was lovely to meet you. And Joshie. I guess I was wondering… “ Andy blushed suddenly, looking a little nervous. “Hopefully I’ll see you again soon?”

Cass smiled widely, 

“God, for Joshie’s sake, I hope not!”

Andy looked a little perplexed, but waved at her as she said goodbye. She luckily managed to reverse out of her parking spot without hitting anything (cringe).

And she was allllllll the way down to the traffic lights before she realised what he’d been trying to say.

She had to rest her forehead on the steering wheel.

God fucking damn it. 

*

Cass was over an hour late for the date, but she looked amazing, so Marshall didn’t seem to care. He also didn’t really care about her explanation for why she’d been late. Didn’t ask about Joshie, or her… just heard about her pants and asked if that meant she wasn’t wearing any. 

She let him feel her up as she half-heartedly kissed him goodnight. But she didn’t fuck him. And it wasn’t because she liked him enough to make him wait for it.

As soon as she got inside, she deleted her Tinder profile.

Cass took off her makeup, brushed out her hair, and threw that same t-shirt and shorts combo back on.

And she went the fuck to bed. 

*

Cass awoke the next morning to a bulldog-mix drooling on her bed. She opened her eyes, groaned, and pulled herself up.

“Early walk today?” she asked Joshie. “You sure? Because I’m not taking you again later. You’ll give up halfway through and I can’t carry you. You know that.”

He said nothing, just snuffled.

She’d worn Joshie’s walking shorts to bed, so she had to change, throwing on a pair of leggings, her trainers, and another t-shirt.

Dexy’s Midnight Runners.

She couldn’t help but cringe at how badly she’d fucked things up yesterday. But she threw Joshie’s harness on him, clipped his lead, and walked out the door. 

It was a short walk to the dog park, and she knew Saturday morning would be a busy one, which was perhaps why Joshie wanted to go there. Then she realised that dogs don’t have a concept of days of the week, or of time. Or of dog parks. 

Maybe he just really wanted to poop there. As if on cue, the second she swung the dog park gate open, Joshie took up his familiar grunting crouch position. And once she’d picked it up, she looked around for a bin to dispose of the bag. And realised it was all the way on the other side of the park. Cass sighed, unhooked Joshie’s lead, tossed his ball, and set off. 

He was having a wonderful time, running around as best he could with a friendly Jack Russell, when out of nowhere, came a beautiful scruffy tan-and-cream dog, happily sniffing Joshie, who immediately fell head over heels in love. Because he started humping her. 

“JOSHIE!” she gasped. “Mate, NO!”

She pulled him off, scolding him, and instead petted the lovely girl, keeping Joshie at arms length as she ruffled through the scruffy fur for a nametag.

Murph.

Cass furrowed her brow. 

God, what were the chances of–

She looked up, and time started moving in somewhat slow motion. Because jogging towards her, in grey training shorts, a t-shirt, and a glowing halo of sunshine around him–

Was Andy.

“Joshie’s mum!” he called out, with a laugh as he approached.

“You have got to be fucking joking,” she said, horrifically out loud.

Andy looked amused as he finally reached her. “Wow, I knew dogs hated the vet, I didn’t know their owners did too?”

Cass blushed about fourteen shades of crimson, spluttering as he approached. “I– fuck, no, that’s not what I–”

His eyebrow twitched, and he shot her an expectant look. But, just like the day before, there was an obvious teasing in it. He was so goddamn motherfucking hot, she was sure she was going to fall over or walk into a tree or something.

She sighed. 

“What I meant was– Why is it that every time that me or my dog does something embarrassing, the person who witnesses it is you?” she groaned. “Like, I’ve got a bag of dog shit in my hand, and Joshie just full-on assaulted Murph right in front of you? He is such a pain!”

Andy grinned. “Stealing his human’s underwear, assaulting pretty girl dogs at the park… I wouldn’t call him a pain as much as I’d call him a sexual deviant.”

Cass groaned, and covered her face with her hands. “Oh my God, see? I have a sexual deviant for a dog. Unlike you.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Murph’s got her quirks. There’s a reason I don’t have any cute slippers like yours.”

Andy crouched down, and Murph approached him with so much love in her eyes that Cass almost swooned. She’d never seen a dog love their owner so much. There was just something about her attention and the way she leaned against his leg. Cass could almost feel their bond.

“I’m Cass, by the way,” she said. “Though, you probably knew that from my file.”

“I did, but I’m glad you said something. I did feel like a bit of a stalker checking it after you left.”

“As long as you didn’t actually keep my underwear, we’re good.”

He burst out laughing. “God, no. I’ll leave stealing those to your dog.”

Cass blushed again, but couldn’t take her eyes off Andy and Murph. And she desperately wanted to stop talking about the fact that Andy had had her thong on the end of his pen the day before. Talk about the dog, Cass. Talk about the dog.

“Murph is beautiful by the way. You failed to mention she was an Otterhound.”

Andy’s face fell into absolute shock. 

“Oh my God– How’d you know?”

She blushed a little. “I groom dogs on TikTok. I’ve never seen an Otterhound in person before, though.”

“Yeah… yeah,” Andy said, looking up at her as he stopped scritching Murph momentarily. There was something in his eyes– like a weird sense of astonishment and amusement– but she couldn’t exactly place it.

“How on earth did you find one?” she asked. 

He stood up, his hand and gaze not leaving Murph’s head. “She’s a failed show dog. Her head was too big for the breed standard.” Andy frowned. “Her breeders brought her in to be euthanized. I asked if I could keep her instead, and they said no. So I bought her.”

Cass’s eyes widened. “Jesus Christ. She must’ve cost…”

Andy cringed. “Five figures, and a contract that stated I had to have her desexed immediately.”

“But they’re a vulnerable breed,” Cass said. “Even without the breed standard, she could be crucial for the survival of the breed…”

He nodded. “I wasn’t happy about it. But it was that or have her put down.”

Cass didn’t even have a chance to stop the words from falling out of her mouth. 

“Those fucking assholes. Good on you. I hope you told them to fuck off as clients after that.”

Andy met her gaze, his own a little fiery. “Yep.”

“But far more politely, I’m sure.”

“Nope.”

There was a moment where his words sunk in. Only a moment. Because after that moment, she was pretty sure she was going to marry him. Or at least, be his best fucking friend.

“Do you want to walk with me?” she blurted out. “I’d love to hear the rest of your asshole client stories.”

Andy’s eyebrows shot up, a small smile curling on to his face. Followed by a slightly larger smile. Followed by a wide one. 

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

They walked in circles around the dog park, making a stop at the bin, but their conversation didn’t stop once. They talked about everything. Dogs, cats, music, movies, food, work, there wasn’t a single lull in conversation. 

He wasn’t on TikTok much, so he asked about her videos, getting her username. His jaw dropped when he saw her view count, and she blushed. Even more so when he realised she mostly did charity grooms for neglected dogs. 

He let slip that Jen had an Instagram page set up for the clinic, and he tried to stop her from looking for it, trying to grab her phone as she navigated to it. She burst out laughing when she realised it was basically just a thinly veiled thirst trap page, mostly of Andy holding adorable baby animals.

“I can’t exactly say no to her- her parents own the clinic! They’re my bosses!”

“She’s pimping you out!” Cass laughed. “But I mean, it’s an outstanding business model.”

Andy laughed. “How!?”

“I mean, if you’ve got a disgustingly hot vet on staff, may as well use him for promo.”

Cass was so busy smiling at Joshie and Murph, that she didn’t realise Andy had stopped walking beside her. She also didn’t realise what she’d said.

Until she did. 

She froze. “Uh… I…. Um…”

She turned back to Andy, cringing harder than she had at any point over the last day, expecting him to be looking at her weirdly. But instead, when she turned back, she saw him trying not to die of laughter. 

Cass smiled sweetly at him. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go and jump off a bridge.”

She made like she was going to walk away, but Andy jogged after her, grabbing her arm.

“Cass,” he said. “I think you’re disgustingly hot too.”

She froze again. She really had to stop freezing like this. It was making her look even more awkward.

“I… what? Seriously?”

Andy raised an eyebrow. 

“You’ve seen me… in two different 80’s band t-shirts, once in basketball shorts and cat slippers with fake lashes stuck to my head, bawling my eyes out. And the other time, I’m in leggings carrying my dog’s shit in a bag. What exactly about that screams hot to you?!”

He burst out laughing, and turned to her, beaming that same stunning smile.

“That,” he said. “Your sense of humour. You laugh at yourself, and you’re awkward, and you care as much about animals as I do.”

He stepped a little closer. 

“But you’ve got an incredible smile. Your body is insane. And even with fake lashes stuck to your headband instead of your face, you have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.”

Cass looked up at him, and was a little lost for words. 

“Andy… stop. And when I say stop, keep going.”

He cracked up laughing, grinning a mile wide before looking down at her again. 

“You know I was trying to ask you out yesterday, right?”

“Yeah, I realised as soon as I got to the end of the street.”

“And you basically told me you never wanted to see me again.”

Cass cringed. “Well, I guess it’s lucky that you find my awkwardness adorable?”

“It is,” he said. “But can I take that to mean I can ask you now?”

“Actually…” She bit her lip. “Andy… would you like to go out with me, for a walk around the dog park, right now?”

For a moment, he was floored but gave her that same beautiful smile. “I would love to.”

“Great,” she said, slipping her hand into his. “Then this counts as our first date. Maybe we should get dinner tonight?”

Andy gave her the side eye. “Why does it sound like you’re trying to get me on a second date as soon as possible?”

Cass smiled to herself. 

Good thing she’d already shaved.

[arriansarchive]

Jacob Portman/Millard Nullings

Thought I'd write a real story about the sillies for once

Jemma doesn't exist everybody

MY BABIES...

Love love love sickfics but I'm not very good at them

Emetophobes don't read below!!!!!!!!

I just love jillard more than life itself soooo

Enjoy

Summary: Millard wakes up to find that Jacob has fallen ill.

Millard sighed as the night sounds woke him from his slumber. Somebodies dog was barking outside, and Millard had always been a light sleeper.

But something felt off, as he looked around the room, Jacob's room, he saw what was peculiar. Jacob wasn't in his bed.

Ever since the peculiars had come to live with their friend, Millard had stayed in Jacob's room. It worked pretty well as Jacob was the only one who could see him, and millard was not very keen on sharing a room with anyone else.

He didn't want to be in a room with anyone else because he had some unknown feelings about Jacob. Whenever Millard tried to explain it to him, Jacob started laughing.

"Why are you laughing?" Millard asked, very angered that Jacob would try and downplay his feelings like this.

Jacob's laughter finally fizzled out after a second, "I'm not laughing at you. It's just what you described was exactly what I was thinking."

Millard stepped closer to Jacob, silently inquiring what he was wondering. Jacob rubbed his hand over the silk of Millard's button-up shirt around his hands. Finally, after what seemed like hours of them standing by each other, Jacob leaned in, and their lips met.

It took a while for Millard to get used to the fact that he was gay since, in his time, it wasn't common at all. It was frowned upon even, but he eventually got around to the idea.

Millard sat up in bed quickly whenever he heard the sound of retching coming from the bathroom on the other side of the wall. He pulled on some random pants of his he found on the floor and began his rush.

He busted into the bathroom as quietly as he could to see Jacob on the floor near the toilet. His hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, and Millard put a hand to his mouth in shock.

Jacob almost never got sick; but when he did, everybody knew it. It was his dramatic flare shining through. Jacob threw his head back in agony, and Millard chuckled a little under his breath.

"What are you laughing at?" Jacob slowly lowered his head to the toilet seat.

Millard yawned a little and smiled. "Nothing, Jacob."

He continued, questioning Jacob's stomach ache. "So, what inspired your stomach to wake you up tonight?"

"I think it was the pizza." Jacob whispered.

Millard raises a hand up to rub his boyfriend's back; but instead of comforting him, it forced out another heave that only squeezed up some stomach acid. Never being a fan of vomit, Millard leaned away a little bit.

He didn't have a weak stomach, but he was still a little squeamish. Millard was also that way whenever it came to large amounts of blood. He didn't like blood after he got shot trying to get Miss Peregrine.

"Kill me." Jacob spat out in between retches.

"Oh, love, I don't think I could do that." Millard laughed.

"Not even if I was a zombie in a zombie apocalypse?"

"I don't think that would ever happen, so it isn't relevant to this conversation."

Jacob glared intensely at Millard until he got the answer that he wanted.

"Fine, no, I wouldn't kill you if we were in a zombie apocalypse." Millard rolled his eyes.

Jacob smiled and dove his head further into the toilet which Millard assumed couldn't be helping the nausea he must be feeling. Trying to problem solve, he grabbed one of the bigger trash cans in the house that resided in the bathroom for Jacob to vomit into.

"Hey, how about you come lay down in your bed with a trashcan beside you? I think you're empty anyway." Millard murmured next to Jacob's ear soothingly.

Jacob hummed and tried to stand. He was wobbly and leaned into Millard heavily. Since he was much taller than Jacob, it was kind of awkward, but he made it work anyway.

Whenever they got to Jacob's bed, Millard placed the trashcan by the side that Jacob always laid on. Jacob collapsed on his side of the bed, looking up at Millard miserably, apparently too tired to be dramatic.

"You'll get sick if you stay in the same bed as me." Jacob muttered into the pillow.

"Don't care." Millard shrugged with a large smile.

Tired as ever, Millard climbed into the bed behind Jacob, rubbing his back gently. Soon after, Jacob fell asleep. Millard stayed up a while longer to ensure that he wouldn't start to throw up again then he fell asleep as well.

[musewritingsforyou]

Asked and Answered

Hell yeah, I can!!! thank you so much for being the first ask I have received, I hope you like it!!!

tw: vomit

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

“Harry, we have a five-hour drive ahead of us, are you absolutely sure that you don't want to take something just in case?” He looked at me as if he were offended by my caution.

“Absolutely sure, I have not gotten car sick or bus sick since I was like a baby!”

-----

And boy did we both regret that choice later on. The drive itself was beautiful, the lovely English countryside and only a little bit of highway at all. The smell of vomit, however, was very much, not lovely.

“Haz?” I knocked on the door of the bus bathroom again but heard only the sad sounds of retching behind it.

“Harry? Sweetheart just let me in so I can help you” A muffled groan came out before a dramatic,

“I can't let you see me like this, I'm disgusting!” A sigh came from every single person on the bus. Paul walked up to the back and tried his hand at getting him to open up the door.

“Harry, I'll give you three minutes before this lock is coming off” another sigh, this time only from me.

“You wouldn't dare!” he mumbled still on the other side. Eventually, once the retching had quieted and the faucet could be heard along with an ungodly amount of gurgling, he unlocked the door, but still didn't come out.

“Soph?” I had been sitting on the couch just next to the door, waiting for him to say something for about thirty minutes now.

“Right here baby”

“You can come in now” I quickly gathered myself and all of the necessary supplies and dove into the bathroom before he could refuse me entry once again. He was sitting on the floor in the cramped space, knees up to accommodate his long legs and his head resting on them, facing me. I placed the large jug of ginger ale that I had brought underneath the sink and sank down next to him on the floor. Gently I scooted closer until our sides were touching and mirrored his image exactly so that we were face to face. I'll have to admit his breath was atrocious but all I cared about was that he was sick and had finally let me help him. Still with my head on my knees and facing him, I moved one hand to brush the sweaty hair out of his eyes.

“Thanks”

“Anything for you, rockstar” He let out a dry chuckle but then went silent again, a dark shadow passing over his face as blood rushed to his ears and-

“Out”

“Harry, this is not the first time that I have seen someone puke, just let me help you” I'm sure he would have responded with something embarrassing for the both of us in order to get me out of the room, but he had no time to speak before lurching forward and grasping the sides of the toilet with his clammy hands. Right away I was kneeling beside him, rubbing his back with on hand and frantically grabbing at the headband I had brought with me to hold his hair back. The second he gained reprieve from his heaving I slid the band on and pushed it up so that I could at least see his face. There were drops of tears in his eyes from the effort and an uncontrollable frown made its way onto my face.

“My poor boy” he leaned back again, heaving gone for the moment.

“I feel like shit”

“I know baby, I'm so sorry. But I'm here now, I'll make it go away”

“Do you still love me even though I'm gross and I threw up in front of you?” I laughed and sank back down next to him with a toothbrush in my hand.

“Always and forever, love” he began brushing his teeth as I pulled out a plastic cup with ginger ale and a small packet of crackers before he could take some medicine. With the toothbrush still in his mouth, he brought his green eyes into the perfect puppy dog stare.

“Even though I didn't listen to you and I should have?” I laughed again and kissed his forehead

“Even though you didn't listen baby.”

[xparadisexlostx]

Shadows:

@bokketo Maybe this one should have stayed in the drafts. It's going under a cut, I'll tell you that. Onyx if you never read this long rambling drabble where someone smacks Rán in the face and she proceeds to murder them without a second thought.... I understand.

In twenty years of life, Rán Malfoy had never been struck. There’d been a few elbows on the quidditch pitch. She’d been kicked by horses or hit by stray bludgers. When she was sixteen, she’d been bit by a particularly ill tempered pygmy puff. But no one had ever dared raise a hand to her. Perhaps that is why she hadn’t seen it coming.

She crumpled back against the kitchen table clutching her jaw and reeling. Her boyfriend—and she used the term very loosely—was apparently coming to terms with the action as well. He was boring a hole into her with that stupid stare of his, clenching his fists, and panting like he’d just fought off a tiger instead of someone half his size who hadn’t seen it coming.

“You’re a fucking bitch.” He huffed, pointing his finger at her. It was shaking. “If–if you hadn’t have—I’ve NEVER hit a girl but you—you’re a real fucking piece of work Malfoy.”

Rán flexed her jaw, tenderly exploring the split in the thin skin of her lips as she tasted copper. He kept yammering on, and the longer he spoke the more he stuttered, and the more his voice shook. She counted to ten, breathed deep, and stood up. When she looked back at him, he had tears in his eyes.

Pathetic.

“Baby… Baby I didn’t mean—I don’t know what came over me.” A tear slid from the corner of his eye, and he reached for her like a snot-nosed toddler would a teddy bear after throwing a fucking tantrum. He laughed pitifully through his tears. “You just, you make me crazy. You make everybody crazy. Come on, don’t be mad. I’ll–I’ll fix you up. What can I do?”

She schooled her expression and sighed, turning to pull out a chair at his shitty little kitchen table in his shitty little apartment. It took everything in her, but she forced her voice to stay meek and small. She even managed a sniffle. “Can you get me a wet cloth, please?”

“Of course. Of course!” He rushed forward to kiss her on the cheek, then practically ran into the bathroom.

“What a waste.” She mumbled as she reached into her purse. She plucked a little velvet pouch from the bag and emptied its contents into her hand. The distant sound of water running could be heard. One by one, she took her collection of little black pebbles, and set them before her on the table. Her finger pressed into the cut on her lip, and she placed a thick crimson dot to each one of them, muttering a quiet spell. 

Thomas was back. He pulled her chair away from the table and knelt down in front of her. His hands shook as he dabbed her lip, but at least he wasn’t fucking crying anymore. He smiled up at her weakly, brushing the hair back behind her ear.

“It’s—you’re ok. You can’t even really see it. A little makeup and–and we can put this whole thing behind us. I won’t ever–ever–do that again baby. I’ll make it up to you.” He kissed her forehead and she barely resisted the urge to retch. When he knelt back, she ran her fingers through his hair and smiled.

“Do you know what I always liked about you?” She hummed.

That brightened him up a bit. He forced another chuckle. “My devilishly good looks?”

“Mmm. That too.” Rán stood to her feet and took a firm hold on his chin. The afternoon sun was blazing, pouring in the window in the livingroom, warming the side of her face. It cast long shadows on the wall behind them. One of them opened its eyes.

“No. See what I always liked about you was what a good little dog you were.” She hissed, shoving him back roughly. He was a tall, muscular man, and it didn’t move him much, but it gave her a split second to escape the range of his arm as it tried to reach for her. 

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” His voice was heavy with shock.

Rán rolled her eyes, “Oh please, don’t act so surprised. I say I want to go out, you show up on my doorstep an hour later. I say go home, you tuck your tail and scurry back to this little shithole of yours. I say fetch-” She paused, picking up the rag from the floor and tossing it at his face. “You fetch. It’s how we’ve always been.”

“You-” He rose from the floor slowly, his jaw clenched. Rán leaned back against the counter as he started toward her. “What the fuck is your problem. You're crazy!”

“Down boy.” Her fingers snapped and the shadowy creature behind him crumpled to the floor. Unable to stop himself, he fell along with it. Rán crouched down to his level with a mocking sigh of disappointment. “Unfortunately baby, when your dog starts to bite—you have to put them down.”

He jerked, scrambling on the tile at her feet. She patted his head and stood back up. 

“It’s not all bad though. I mean, can you imagine what my father would have done to you when he found out? I promise you, whatever comes next, it’ll be a whole lot more pleasant than that.” She shrugged. “Besides, I’ve been wanting to test out a theory, and there’s no time like the present.”

“W-what have you done? What have you done?! I can’t fucking move Rán this isn’t funny!” He was thrashing helplessly, and it sounded like he was crying again.

“Oh come on sugar, you had to know you were fucked the second you clenched your fists, hm?” She teased. Rán flicked her hair over her shoulder and twitched her fingers. The shadow grinned a toothy grin and sprung to its feet, jerking its human meat-sack with it. 

“Rán, baby, sweetheart, come on. I-I said I was sorry.” He rambled, trying to reach out his hands, but they stayed glued to his side. The panic in his eyes only grew. “I swear–I SWEAR I won’t do it again! Forgive me! Just forgive me please!”

“I’m not a very forgiving person.” She said with a tight smile. She took out her wand and tapped it against her split lip a few times. The wound and the blossoming bruise faded back into smooth, unmarred flesh. “Wait right here. Stay. Quiet.”

He didn’t listen, but she could hardly fault him. He was spiraling. It didn’t matter anyway. The shadow clenched its teeth together and all that could be heard were muffled whimpers. Nothing loud enough to break the soundproofing spells that wizarding apartments kept on their units to prevent noise complaints. 

She found what she was looking for on his dresser. An antique watch that cost a small fortune, passed down to Thomas by his father. She swished her wand and it lifted up into the air.

By the time she walked back into the living room, he’d stopped trying to talk. He was, however, frantically crying, and it made him look so ugly she couldn’t believe she’d ever let him touch her.

“Don’t look so glum.” She plucked her ritual stones from the table and dropped them back into her bag. The spell was already done, the spirit under her control. There was no need for them now. “You know, you really are doing me a favor. I appreciate that. Which is why I am going to make this quick and painless for each of us. Come on. Follow me.”

He didn’t have much of a choice. She snagged a bottle of fire whiskey from the cabinet, poured herself a glass, and then thrust the bottle in his direction. He mutely clutched it in his trembling hands and followed as she stepped out onto the balcony. He was whimpering and struggling so aggressively, spittle was leaking from the corners of his mouth. She sat the watch on the slender iron rail beside them.

“You’re going to want to drink up, baby. It’ll make this next part so much easier.” 

He didn’t want to, and she didn’t really care. The shadow raised a bottle to its lips, and the man followed suit. His jaw unhinged forcibly, and he sputtered the first time, coughing and spitting it back out. It flowed down his cheeks and onto his shirt.

“Oh don’t make a mess. Drink!” She held up her glass and tapped it against the bottle, knocking back the whiskey in one gulp. 

“P-Please.” His voice was raspy and half choked. “Please. If–if you ever loved me-”

She burst into riotous laughter. “Oh. Oh baby now it’s just getting sad. Don’t go out like this. It’s pathetic.”

He stared at her as she wiped a couple of stray tears from the corners of her eyes, forced out by her peals of laughter. Whatever he saw in her expression seemed to make everything clear. His sniffling slowed and came to a stop, and he lifted up the bottle and started to drink in earnest. When half the bottle was gone, she smiled at him.

“What a good boy. Now-” She flicked her wrist and the watch began to slip. “Go fetch.”

In the coming hours she would cry and clutch her father’s arm as she explained the tragic story of the terrible accident to the aurors. How she’d begged him not to drink so much, and how she’d tried to drag him away from the balcony. It’d never been up to code, and she’d complained about it dozens of times, but she never thought it would give way like that. And in the coming weeks, she would sniffle and shiver each time anyone brought up his name. When the investigation closed, she’d spend a few weeks in the Mediterranean with her grandmum to soothe her poor nerves. 

And in the evenings when she laid her head down on her pillows, the shadow on the wall would get down on all fours and bark.

It made them laugh every time.

[sweetcherrymoon22]

could you do a blurb where harry gets bus sick and y/n babies himmmmn

Hell yeah, I can!!! thank you so much for being the first ask I have received, I hope you like it!!!

tw: vomit

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

“Harry, we have a five-hour drive ahead of us, are you absolutely sure that you don't want to take something just in case?” He looked at me as if he were offended by my caution.

“Absolutely sure, I have not gotten car sick or bus sick since I was like a baby!” 

-----

And boy did we both regret that choice later on. The drive itself was beautiful, the lovely English countryside and only a little bit of highway at all. The smell of vomit, however, was very much, not lovely. 

“Haz?” I knocked on the door of the bus bathroom again but heard only the sad sounds of retching behind it. 

“Harry? Sweetheart just let me in so I can help you” A muffled groan came out before a dramatic,

“I can't let you see me like this, I'm disgusting!” A sigh came from every single person on the bus. Paul walked up to the back and tried his hand at getting him to open up the door.

“Harry, I'll give you three minutes before this lock is coming off” another sigh, this time only from me. 

“You wouldn't dare!” he mumbled still on the other side. Eventually, once the retching had quieted and the faucet could be heard along with an ungodly amount of gurgling, he unlocked the door, but still didn't come out.

“Soph?” I had been sitting on the couch just next to the door, waiting for him to say something for about thirty minutes now.

“Right here baby”

“You can come in now” I quickly gathered myself and all of the necessary supplies and dove into the bathroom before he could refuse me entry once again. He was sitting on the floor in the cramped space, knees up to accommodate his long legs and his head resting on them, facing me. I placed the large jug of ginger ale that I had brought underneath the sink and sank down next to him on the floor. Gently I scooted closer until our sides were touching and mirrored his image exactly so that we were face to face. I'll have to admit his breath was atrocious but all I cared about was that he was sick and had finally let me help him. Still with my head on my knees and facing him, I moved one hand to brush the sweaty hair out of his eyes.

“Thanks”

“Anything for you, rockstar” He let out a dry chuckle but then went silent again, a dark shadow passing over his face as blood rushed to his ears and-

“Out”

“Harry, this is not the first time that I have seen someone puke, just let me help you” I'm sure he would have responded with something embarrassing for the both of us in order to get me out of the room, but he had no time to speak before lurching forward and grasping the sides of the toilet with his clammy hands. Right away I was kneeling beside him, rubbing his back with on hand and frantically grabbing at the headband I had brought with me to hold his hair back. The second he gained reprieve from his heaving I slid the band on and pushed it up so that I could at least see his face. There were drops of tears in his eyes from the effort and an uncontrollable frown made its way onto my face.

“My poor boy” he leaned back again, heaving gone for the moment.

“I feel like shit”

“I know baby, I'm so sorry. But I'm here now, I'll make it go away”

“Do you still love me even though I'm gross and I threw up in front of you?” I laughed and sank back down next to him with a toothbrush in my hand.

“Always and forever, love” he began brushing his teeth as I pulled out a plastic cup with ginger ale and a small packet of crackers before he could take some medicine. With the toothbrush still in his mouth, he brought his green eyes into the perfect puppy dog stare.

“Even though I didn't listen to you and I should have?” I laughed again and kissed his forehead

“Even though you didn't listen baby.”

[secretobsessionstuff]

Hi, Max! I'd like to make a request to see Jory (1) nauseous and (2) pining over Dev. Maybe he's still recovering from that bug and he keeps getting super flustered whenever they check on him. Maybe he's not sure if he's still sick to his stomach from the bug, or if being the focus of his crush's attention is overwhelming enough to make him queasy...

Thank you so much for the beautiful request, Flick!! I hope it's good :)

This is a continuation of THIS fic.

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

As soon as Dev opened the door to the apartment, Jory bolted for the bathroom. He had managed not to throw up in the bag that he’d been given for the ride home, but now his stomach was sick of being ignored. So very sick. 

“Wow, off you go, huh?” Dev said casually, closing the door behind them. They sighed and slowly took off their jacket. The sound of retching and sick hitting the toilet bowl filled the small space. Dev scrunched up their nose. 

They walked over to the bathroom and leaned in the doorway with their arms crossed. Jory would not have known by their expression, but Dev was battling an internal war about whether or not they should go and comfort him. 

It was easy when they were in the studio because the dude obviously needed someone to get him home in one piece. Dev had hardly thought about it as they helped him off the floor. Now in the apartment it was a different story. Jory was safely—albeit miserably—puking in a place where he could recover. He was no longer a junior artist in need of help, but a fully independent person who might rather be left alone. Their home bathroom was a much better place to suffer by himself, if that’s what Jory decided he wanted. In the end, the decision was his. 

“Are you…are you good?” Dev asked with one foot in and one foot out. “Do you want me to come in?”

Jory didn’t respond right away due to a rush of vomit that filled his mouth. The gush of sick came at a particular good time because it gave Jory a chance to think about his answer. 

On one hand he didn’t want to be alone. He never liked being alone when he was sick. But on the other hand, Dev’s presence made his stomach do summersaults. Not really what he needed in the throes of a stomach bug.

He also wasn’t thrilled about potential grossing out Dev who never asked to be stuck with a sick roommate. Of course, that logic didn’t make much sense, given how close Dev had gotten to him back at the studio. Dev had knelt right down next to him, putting their hand on his face. His skin was still tingling with the after-effects of that moment. 

Jory spat a glob of spit into the toilet, terrified by the fact that he no longer had an excuse to put off his answer. Dev was still waiting in the doorway, looking like a goshdarn Greek statue. Their sleeves had been pushed above their elbows, revealing tattooed forearms. Jory had many opportunities to gawk over Dev’s tattoos, but he never took the time to admire the veins woven between the ink. The veins were pushed to the surface of their skin from having their arms crossed. 

He sputtered like an exceptional idiot. “I-I don’t…I mean that sounds...” He put his hand on his chest, trying to calm his racing heart. “I guess…what was the question?” 

Dev sighed and dropped their arms to the side as they walked into the bathroom. “I think your fever is getting worse.” 

“Oh.” Jory exhaled deeply. At least Dev thought his rambling was caused by his temperature and not a stupid crush. He started to shake his head to clear the fog from his mind, but Dev must have assumed he was disagreeing about the fever.

“We’ve already been over this,” they said with their hands on their hips. “Look, I’ll prove it to you once and for all. Where’s your thermometer?” 

Jory pointed to the cabinet above the sink that Dev was already opening. It took his fevered mind a second to realize what was happening. By then it was too late, and Dev was right next to him, telling him to open his mouth. Thank God they didn’t grab his chin again because Jory would have simply passed out against Dev’s body. 

Jory felt his face heat up as Dev stared at him, the two of them waiting for the thermometer to beep. Jory tried to look away, but Dev’s constant gaze was hard to break away from. There was a faint amber circle around Dev’s pupil. It was almost swallowed by the green (or maybe brown) color of their iris, but it was there, hiding in the murkiness of their eye. Jory decided that he would dye his hair green next, with an amber circle around the crown of his head. 

“You look like shit,” Dev said quietly. 

Jory couldn’t help but smirk around the thermometer; Dev was looking at him just as closely as he’d been looking at them. Sure, Jory came to the conclusion that Dev had entrancing eyes, while Dev concluded that he looked like shit, but it was still a win. 

“Some people strive for the dishevelled look,” he said, trying to speak without moving his tongue. 

Dev cocked their head to the side and raised an eyebrow. Jory’s jaw wanted to drop on its own. He was getting up close and personal with so many of Dev’s smug facial expressions. “Too bad you passed dishevelled two pukes ago.” 

Finally, the thermometer beeped, and Dev took it from his mouth before he could. As they read the temperature, their smug look faded, morphing into one that Jory couldn’t place. “Well fuck,” they announced. 

“Ah so I was right all along and don’t really have a fever.”

Dev shook their head and set the thermometer aside. They let Jory’s comment stand without so much as clever retort. “It’s a lot higher than I thought.” 

Jory was taken aback by the sudden shift in Dev’s voice. It was soft. Worried. It was all wrong. He suddenly felt very safe with Dev, as if he could lay his head in their lap and he’d be looked after for the entire might. Their voice held the promise of comfort and compassion. They would run their fingers through his hair, they would shush him back to sleep when the fever dreams startled him awake, they would be there whenever he needed someone.

And Jory wanted all of it. 

He was going to be sick. 

Dev must have noticed the change in his demeanor, because they touched his burning cheek. “You’re really not well.” 

He swallowed thickly, feeling as if he’d been backed into a corner by the alluring villain in his sexually charged story. But this was no villain. It was Dev being gentle. It was so foreign to him. He knew then that Dev could do whatever they wanted, and he would love every second.

And it wasn’t just sex. Dev could change or reveal anything about themselves, and Jory would undoubtedly love every new facet that he uncovered. It scared him. This was dangerously far from a crush. 

His stomach was so very disturbed now. He put his palm against his aching belly and swallowed a wave of nausea. He wasn’t sure if the stomach bug was making his insides churn, or if he was nervous being so close to Dev. He could have left tattooing and become a lepidopterist with all the butterflies in his stomach. 

“Are you okay?” Dev asked, moving their hand to cup his cheek. “Your face has gone a funny colour.” 

Jory pulled away from Dev’s soft touch, “Mhm, I don’t feel so good.” 

A gurgle started in his stomach and crawled up his throat. It made him gag, lurching forward with a hand over his lips. A burp burst from his mouth and the next thing he knew he was vomiting up a thin stream of sick. Somehow, he made it into the toilet. 

He tried not to think about Dev’s hand on his back as he continued to bring up the contents of his stomach. It burned his throat and made tears fall onto his cheeks. 

This was his third time retching in front of Dev. It wasn’t getting easier. He still wanted to run away and never be seen again. The worst of all was that Dev’s hand never left his back. He didn’t think his stomach would ever settle if both of their bodies were in contact with one another. 

With a few more empty gags, he finished this round of vomiting. His belly was cramping, his skin was slick with sweat, and his heart was hammering in his chest. 

“Are you done?” Dev asked. 

He sniffled. “Yeah.” Jory blew his nose with toilet paper, then flushed away the mess. 

Dev helped him off the bathroom floor. “How are you feeling?”

This was weird, Jory thought as Dev walked him to his bedroom. He had to say something to get the old Dev back. This was too much. “I think I studied lepidopterology in another life.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” 

Jory sighed while he lowered himself into bed. “It’s the study of butterflies.” He pulled the blankets up by himself because Dev was too busy processing what he just said. There were still a couple little buggers flying around in his stomach, but he thought he could get to sleep no problem. “It’s a very challenging yet rewarding field of study.” 

“Alright, weirdo. Sleep tight, don’t let the”—Dev paused with their hand hovering by the light switch—“butterflies bite.” 

[baronessblixen]

AU prompt. Scully gets violently sick in Requiem so badly that Mulder does call a doctor and he refers her for a head CT.. lots of hurt/comfort please

Not quite sticking to the prompt but it's also three years old. I hope the hurt/comfort aspect is still there (there's fluff, I can tell you that)! Set, obviously, in "Requiem" but goes AU. Tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober2021

Wc: 1342

Fictober Day 19

Catch You If You Fall

Mulder is still worried about Scully having dizzy spells when things get even worse. One minute they're talking about what they're going to have for dinner, the next she's pushing him away to get to the bathroom.

He wants to give her privacy and he tries. He really does. He lasts all of ten seconds. Knowing she's in there, suffering, makes him sick, too. The door is half open; she must have tried closing it, but had other priorities at that moment.

He sits next to her, stroking her back, and mumbling nonsense. Any second she's going to tell him to leave her alone. But this time, the words don't come and she doesn't push him away. There's something else on his mind distracting him though: the retching doesn't stop. It's almost constant.

"I'll call a doctor," he says into her ear, stroking her hair. He wavers; if Scully is fine - really fine - then she'll stop him. Say it's unnecessary. Instead, she nods weakly. His heart sinks. It's worse. It's so much worse than he expected.

The emergency room is quiet and Mulder is thankful for that. Scully is leaning against him, her hand in his. There's a vomit bowl in her other hand, still empty. Mulder is thankful for that, too. He is agitated, waiting for someone to see them. He flashed his badge, told them Scully was an agent, too. They merely nodded. In here, they're like everyone else.

They don't get it - how could they? Scully isn't just his friend, his partner and maybe, because they still haven't had that conversation, his girlfriend. She's his everything.

The cheesy generalization is the only expression that comes close to what he's feeling. The first time Scully passed out here in Oregon, Mulder thought he'd join her on the ground. Blood rushed to his ears and threatened to take him, too. Every consecutive time is worse. What happens if he's not there? What happens if she cracks her head open?

What if?

Her hand is in his and he's gently stroking it with his thumb. It probably calms him more than her.

"How are you?" He asks in a whisper.

"Better."

"Good," he says and she leans more heavily against him. "If you feel faint again... my arms are open," he jokes.

"I know," she squeezes his hand. "Thank you for always catching me."

"Dana Scully?" A nurse appears, holding a clipboard and scanning the crowd. Mulder helps Scully up and together they follow the smiling nurse. Before they enter the examination room, Scully turns to him and puts her hand on his chest.

He swallows hard, knowing he won't like what she's going to say next.

"I need to do this alone." Her voice is as firm as the expression on her face. He nods. He hates this. He wants to stay with her, hold her hand. But this is Scully, the tiniest but toughest fighter he's ever known.

"Let them do a head CT, let them-," he trails off. Scully knows all this. She will have them do every test necessary. She knows what to look for. She's fearing the same thing he is. They don't need to voice it; they share it silently, carrying their worries in their pockets.

"I'll wait right here," he says with difficulty. "Let me know if... I'm here, if you need me."

"Thank you," she mouths before she disappears.

There's not a single hospital Mulder has encountered where the coffee tastes good. It's lukewarm water, the color of a wet beaver, and tastes like one, too. He downs five cups anyway, pacing the hallways. He buys a pack of skittles and sorts them by color. He clenches and unclenches his fists. Nothing works. All he wants is to be with Scully.

Eventually, he returns to the small plastic chair close to Scully's room. He closes his eyes, breathes in and out. If it's cancer again, he's going to ask her to marry him. He's not going to sit outside of rooms, barred. They will have to give him information and let him see her. Yes, he's going to ask her.

If it's cancer. What else could it be? The symptoms are all there. Except for the nose bleeds. That's his only hope, his last pillar.

It feels like it's been hours, but finally, both the nurse and the doctor come out of Scully's room. There were tests, several of them. Their faces are blank; good or bad, he can't tell.

"Can I go in now?"

"Yes, she asked for you."

His heart is beating loud as he pushes the squeaky door open. He closes it quietly, preparing himself for the news. Scully is lying on her side, neither smiling nor crying. Just... stoic. He swallows hard.

"Hey you," he says.

"There you are. I thought they'd never be done."

"Did they- do they know? Do they know what's caused all this?"

She nods and his knees give in, making him sit down on the chair next to her bed. He brings it closer so he can hold her hand again. It's warm and soft in his hand. The way it should be.

"Is it- how bad is it?"

"I'm glad you're sitting down for this."

It's bad. It's the worst. The cancer has returned, worse than the last time. There's no chance, there's no cure, there's no-

"I'm pregnant."

Mulder's mouth pops open. "You're- it's not- you're WHAT?" He gets up from the chair and stumbles, dizzy with emotions.

"Mulder, are you okay?"

"I should ask you that," he says, turning too quickly and feeling his knees give in for a second time that day. They knock against the cold hospital floor.

"Easy there, Mulder. I can't catch you as easily as you catch me."

He smiles at her joke. "How are you feeling? Are you- this is what we wanted, right? A baby. Are they sure - are you sure? It's- you're pregnant and it's not..."

"It's not," she assures him with tears in her ears. "Why do you think I wanted you out of the room, hm? I knew what you were thinking. I was fearing the same thing. My CT was normal."

"But you were so sick," he says.

Scully nods. "They gave me something for it. Some women struggle with hyperemesis gravidarum - severe morning sickness."

"It's evening," Mulder says.

"Our child thinks it's morning." She laughs, a sob of disbelief. Of all the things it could have been, it's the one thing they'd given up on. It never even crossed his mind, not once.

"Our child," he repeats, in awe. "This is not a dream, is it? I'm not going to wake up any second and you tell me it's cancer, right?"

"It's not a dream. But-"

"I knew it."

"No, it's okay, Mulder. They want to keep me here overnight, for observation."

"I'm staying."

"Mulder, the case."

"I'll call Skinner, have someone else work the case. I can't - Scully, I want to be here. Do you- Dana Scully, will you share this hospital bed with me tonight?" Not quite the question he considered earlier, but the one that feels right for tonight.

"I'd be honored," she replies and he takes off his jacket, wishing he'd brought a change of clothes. Maybe he can charm a nurse later when Scully is asleep and get something else to wear. He takes her in his arms, just wanting to hold her.

"We're gonna be parents, Scully," he whispers into her hair, afraid someone will take it away if he screams it into the world, like he wants to.

"I know," she whispers back.

"You need to sleep. You need to rest."

"I will. I can, now that you're here."

She falls asleep quickly but Mulder can't sleep. He grins into the dark hospital room. Who knew that great things could happen in these rooms too?

"I love you," he says, kissing Scully's cheek. He lets his hand travel to her flat stomach. "Love you, too, little bean."

[lunaetics]

the hours that passed were miserable. harry tried to play music in the car, but it felt loud and inappropriate, grating on his ears, so he turned it back off. and they drove in silence.

he tried not to think about all that'd transpired, but it was hard not to. in the silence of the car, he couldn't help but remember what piper had told them; about the coven and all of the harvests. about pastor goode. about dominic and cass and cecelia. the year that piper had been forced to keep that knowledge to herself, right up to the moment where she no longer had a choice. he thought about how much it all had to haunt her, for her to be ready to die.

and he thought⎯⎯his stomach revolted at the reminder that they'd just killed her. piper, who'd always been a bit of a stick in the mud, but had never been anything less than kind and compassionate. piper, who'd waited until her twenty-first birthday, like a good girl, to take her first alcoholic drink, and then promptly asked harry how on earth he could ingest so much of this stuff. piper shui towne, who was his friend. he'd killed her.

he quickly pulled over and retched on the side of the road.

the rest of the drive was uneventful. one stop to use the bathroom, but even that went by quickly. there was a rush to get back to the others. there was no doubt in his mind that the coven was already searching for them. wasting time felt like a death sentence.

just past connecticut's state limits, they ditched the car. they bounced three times: once to new jersey, then to delaware, then into maryland. they used cash to get on a bus to take them into annapolis. about an hour ago, ethan had texted them all the address to what seemed to be a truck stop. it would take a little over an hour on the bus for them to get there, so harry settled into his seat and tried not to think at all.

it felt like forever before the group was whole again. mae had shed more than a few tears on the way here, and every time she looked at piper⎯lying down in the backseat of the van that ethan had cashed out for⎯she thought she might start up again. she'd never realized just how much magic a person gave off before it just... wasn't there. even humans had auras, magical signatures that came just from being alive and touched by their surroundings. but piper was now a complete dead spot. there was no magic coming off of her; there was nothing at all.

and mae had done that; she'd been a part of that. no matter how hard she tried to remind herself that it was for the better, the fact remained that she'd taken her friend's life.

just how many people had to die because of this coven?

harry and the girls were the last to arrive. when they did, he beelined for nora, wrapping his arms around her. as much as she wanted to join them and make sure they were all okay, mae did not let go of abby's hand. she didn't think she could stay on her feet if she did.

"everyone ready?" ethan asked, taking count to make sure they had all made it in one piece. he couldn't see any wounds from here, but it wasn't like they could sit around and nurse them if they existed anyway. they had to keep going. "it's a tight fit and a long ride, so get comfortable. there are energy bars and gatorades in the back; we can make a stop for some real food when we're closer to the city."

they all got into the car, each of them trying not to freeze at the sight of piper. if he tried hard enough, saint could pretend that she was asleep, but he knew well enough that she wasn't. he didn't allow himself to trip over what they'd done. if she was telling the truth, and he knew that she was, then they'd only done what was necessary. and he trusted nora, too; he trusted that she'd led them down the path that would bring piper back to life in due time.

ethan wasn't kidding; it was a tight fit. there weren't a lot of them, but there were enough, and the van was only so big. it was the size of a very small bus, at best. still, damaris wouldn't trade it for a bigger or second vehicle. she didn't think any of them could stand to be separated right now.

taking the seat beside ivy, she grabbed her best friend's hand and stared forward. she tried in silence to rationalize all that'd happened today, all that she'd learned. her adoptive father was dead⎯but did that matter, when he'd never been the man that she'd thought he was in the first place? people were dead. so many people were dead, and piper was now among that number, even for a short time. they were on the run; they were being hunted, she knew. they only had so much time before they were caught. they would find safety in new orleans⎯but what if they didn't?

she didn't know. damaris had always prided herself on being smart and capable. but in this moment, she didn't know anything.

"should we get rid of our phones?" harry asked, as they settled into the van. "i mean, if they're tracking our magic anyway, i don't know if it makes a difference, but..."

"it can't hurt," damaris said. "we can always get new ones when we're safe. the fewer ways they have to track us, the better, right?" she asked, looking at aiden and rose.

rose met piper's eyes and held her gaze as piper faded; she was surprised at how much her heart ached, but she didn't look away. she couldn't. she couldn't make herself look away, just as much as she couldn't let herself doubt her promise that she would see piper again in new orleans. she didn't let herself think that this might be the last time she looked into piper's eyes at all, because it couldn't be, that much she was certain of. instead, she just held her gaze until her eyes were closed, until ethan reaffirmed what her own senses had already told her: piper was dead.

rose knelt down, hooking one arm beneath piper's knees and the other beneath her shoulders, then lifted her, letting her head fall back against her shoulder. "we'll see you in annapolis," she said, then looked to the others. "and we'll see you in new orleans." with that, she carried piper to the car.

she buckled her into the backseat, letting piper's head continue to rest against her as the others piled in, aiden taking a seat next to bellamy in the passengers seat. bell was by far the best driver; besides, the coven would, hopefully, have nothing to track them for, since there was no trace of piper in the car anymore.

there was no trace of her anywhere.

"hang in there," she said to piper anyway as she watched salem blur by through the window.

"i'll drive," abby said, holding up her car keys and gesturing for damaris, gemma, and mae to follow her. she knew mae would be feeling the weight of what they had done, of what had happened and what was to come, and that gemma was likely wiped out after what she'd just had to do. mari was capable as hell, but abby didn't like the idea of them not having at least one witch ready to fight if they needed to.

god, she hoped they didn't need to.

they piled into her car, and she drove off the same way she had driven them in; like she was just out for a normal drive. it was hard not to speed away as fast as she could; it was hard not to break down sobbing as she drove. she couldn't bear to look out the windows and take in the town as they drove; if she did, she knew she would e flooded with memories of her life, of her childhood, and it would make leaving all the more painful. even though she had to, even though she realized now that her entire life had been built on lies and death, she still couldn't stand to feel it all, to watch it all for the last time.

instead, she focused only on the road ahead of her.

ivy grabbed taylor's hand and hurried towards harry as the rest of them departed. once the cars had driven away, nora took saint's hand, then willow's.

"ready?"

"not even close," willow said, sniffling and wiping away an errant tear with her free hand before she took saint's hand, as well. "we should bounce around a bit. each take us somewhere new. i'll take the first jump, okay?" and with that, she closed her eyes and transported them away from salem for the last time.

[cuddlepilefics]

Ginger Ale and Crackers

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Felix

Caregiver: Chan & Changbin

Prompt; @sicktember

No one's POV.:

About halfway through their afternoon dance practice, Felix' stomach had started to give him hard time. All the jumps they had been practicing had left his stomach unsettled. He had felt hesitant to drink anything during their breaks, afraid the next jump or turn would send it right back up his throat. That hadn't happened but Felix had admittedly barely had any water during the afternoon, so it wasn't much of a surprise that by the end of their practice, his head felt swimmy while also pounding painfully. With how much he had been sweating, he clearly had to be dehydrated, yet he was still unsure whether he should have a drink. They were done with practice, so there wouldn't be any more jumps but the thought of swallowing alone almost made him gag. Felix himself had no idea why he was suddenly feeling so bad. He had been fine this morning and hadn't eaten anything weird since then. Maybe he had just overdone it with his dancing, going all out, but that was what he usually did, yet he never felt like this after dancing. Looking at his water bottle with an almost disgusted expression, the Aussie shoved it into his bag and waited for his members to pack up, so that they could head home. He was exhausted, almost too exhausted to take a shower but he knew he'd be uncomfortable all night if he didn't.

Not daring to eat dinner for the fear of upsetting his stomach more, Felix crawled into bed right after taking a shower. He had been plagued with cramps the entire time he was in the shower and had barely managed to stand up straight, wanting to curl up into a tiny ball right there. When Chan came into their shared room to get the younger for dinner, he found the boy deeply asleep, hugging his pillow to his middle. Not having the heart to wake his dongsaeng, the leader left and quietly closed the door behind him. He made sure to save Felix some food in case he woke up hungry before telling the rest of the members to keep it down a bit. The next one to check on Felix was his other roommate Changbin. After dinner he went to their shared room to collect his headphones, finding the Aussie tangled in his sheets, groaning quietly. It worried him a bit, knowing how hard the younger had been working lately. Seeing him this exhausted was just heartbreaking for the rapper. He too decided not to disturb his dongsaeng, hoping he would get as much rest as somehow possible. It felt wrong to see their energetic sunshine like this.

Felix had stayed asleep the entire time, no matter how loud the rest of the members in the living room were. He didn't even hear his roommates come and get ready for bed. All he knew was that by the time he woke up again, both of them were sleeping peacefully in their beds. Unlike Felix, who had woken up in cold sweat. His breath got caught in his throat when he was hit with another cramp, the pain unexpectedly intense. Whimpering quietly, he felt his stomach turn, now more than certain that he was going to be sick. Felix heart sped up, knowing he had to get to the bathroom fast but afraid he'd be sick immediately if he as much as moved a single muscle. With adrenaline rushing through his veins, he rolled out of bed, hand clamped tightly over his mouth as he stumbled to the door. Throwing it open, he staggered down the hallway, dizzily crashing into the wall next to him. As he fought to get his footing, his stomach cramped, sending a gush of his lunch up. Feeling the warm mush spill through his fingers, the Aussie's eyes stung with tears. He tried to avoid the puddle as he dragged himself to the bathroom, collapsing to his knees in front of the toilet, instantly throwing up more.

Chan awoke with a start to their door slamming against the wall. Shooting up in his bed, he found Changbin awake as well, looking at the older with a horrified expression. Only a few seconds later, they heard a muffled cough followed by a splattering noise. Cursing, Chan got out of bed and hurried down the hallway, only barely avoiding the puddle of sick. The bathroom door was slightly ajar, light streaming through the crack. Hearing faint cries behind the door, the leader rushed to find Felix draped over the toilet, head buried in the toilet bowl. The dancer startled when he felt his hyung's hand on his back. "Ssh, you're okay", Chan promised, rubbing his back. Felix wanted to laugh at him, telling him that he was very much not okay, but before he was able to get a single word out, his stomach lurched again, a large wave of his lunch splashing into the bowl. Changbin had followed them not long after, frowning when he saw the position his friends were in. Felix' chest was hitching with quiet sobs, which certainly didn't help his stomach settle. Retching again, the dancer reached behind him and took a hold of Chan's had. He clutched onto it tightly as he kept throwing up. When he finally got a chance to breathe, he rasped: "Can you turn off the light? It's too bright." Changbin was quick to comply while Chan continued to rub his dongsaeng's back. "Do you have a migraine?", he asked carefully, afraid his voice would hurt the other more. Felix shook his head, gagging weakly before he was able to reply: "My stomach's been bothering me since dance practice."

Sighing, Chan brushed his hand against Felix' neck. "You're running a fever too. Is that new or did it start along with your stomach", he hummed worriedly. Giving a strained cough, the dancer groaned: "I don't know? I just knew that my stomach felt bad, so I wanted to sleep it off. Oh god, please make it stop." Before Chan could say anything, Felix had ducked his head into the bowl again, retching painfully. While the leader tried his best to comfort the younger, Changbin went over to the sink and ran a washcloth under cool water before draping it across the dancer's neck. They could barely see anything as the only light source was the hallway light streaming through the cracked door but they didn't have to see much, the short glance they had gotten earlier had been enough to see how ghostly pale their dongsaeng was. Felix seemed to be done for now and tiredly rested his head on his arms. He just wanted to go back to sleep. That was when he remembered the mess he had made on his way. "Ugh, I -I got sick in the hallway too", he whimpered, raising his head to look at his hand. Looking at the bits of his lunch still stuck to his hand only triggered another gag. When Felix was done, the tears wouldn't stop falling, his fever messing with his emotions. Handing him a wad of toilet paper to clean his hand with, Changbin whispered: "I'll clean that up... don't move."

While the rapper fetched the cleaning supplies and took care of the mess in the hallway, Chan stayed with Felix, helping him up from the floor, so he could wash his hands properly and handing him some mouthwash to get rid of the vile taste. As they made their way back to their room, Felix shakily clung to the leader's arm, his head spinning. "You're okay, almost there", the older promised, when Felix' legs suddenly gave out. Catching him around the waist, Chan picked him up bridal style and carried him the last few meters to his bed. The sheets were a mess and it took the oldest a while to detangle them, so he could tuck his dongsaeng in. Placing a bottle of water on the nightstand and pulling the trashcan out from under the desk, Changbin hummed: "Here's the trashcan if you need it. Try having some water when you feel ready, we don't want you to get dehydrated." – "Thanks", the younger rasped quietly, eyes already fluttering shut. Falling asleep however wasn't as easy. His stomach was still in knots, rumbling loudly. "Was your stomach making all that noise?", Changbin frowned, sitting down on the edge of the mattress, sliding his hand under Felix' shirt. The dancer hummed in confirmation, relaxing as the older stroked his stomach in soothing circles.

By the time Chan had to get up for a meeting with their managers, Felix had been up retching over the trashcan twice. Neither times was he able to bring anything up though, which wasn't surprising, considering he had skipped dinner and had barely had anything to drink. Although he hated to wake his members when they were sleeping, Chan carefully woke Changbin up by shaking his arm. "Hey, could you stay back from the studio today?", he asked quietly, afraid to leave Felix at the dorm by himself, "I'll tell the others to just go to their schedules as usual and come check on you two as soon as the meeting's over." – "No problem, I couldn't focus anyway, knowing he'd be sick and alone. I got him, hyung, don't stress too much", Changbin whispered, waving the older goodbye before going back to sleep.

The rapper woke up again hours later to a weight on his chest. Yawning, he tried to sit up, only to find himself pinned down. "Sorry, I was cold", Felix mumbled lowly. He had woken up not too long ago, his stomach still hurting but not as nauseous as he had been before. Instead, he was shaking with chills. Bringing his hand up to the Aussie's forehead, Changbin hummed: "Your fever's up. Did you try to drink anything yet?" The dancer shook his head not even opening his eyes. He really didn't want to be sick again, so he wasn't willing to risk it. "You're getting dehydrated, Lixxie. Isn't your head hurting?", he frowned, running his hand through his dongsaeng's hair. "It is", Felix admitted quietly, "But so are my stomach and throat. I'm fine as long as we just stay like this." Sighing, Changbin decided that they could stay like that for a little while longer before he'd try to get the younger to drink something again.

It was already close to lunchtime when Changbin decided he wouldn't let Felix go without having at least some water. Luckily, the Aussie was awake, merely resting with his eyes closed, because the rapper didn't think he could wake the boy. "Come on, Lix", he whispered, "At least have a few sips and if you let me get up, I can go and see if we have any medicine. Just not consuming anything isn't going to help. It'll only make you worse." – "Hyung", the dancer whined, holding onto Changbin's shirt, "Please, no." Though Felix had his hyung wrapped around his little finger, the older knew better than to give in. He wouldn't let his dongsaeng get worse. If Felix wasn't getting up, he would have to get the Aussie off of himself. Carefully shifting to the side, Changbin managed to slip out underneath the younger and gently removed his hands from his shirt. "Sorry", the older cooed, pulling the blanket up to Felix' shoulders and leaving the room.

Rummaging through the bathroom cabinet, Changbin found some anti-emetics and made his way to the kitchen. He knew Felix didn't want anything but after skipping dinner and throwing up, the dancer needed something in his system. Guessing that plain rice would be the safest option, Changbin grabbed a small bowl and took it back to their room. Felix' water bottle was still untouched on the nightstand. Sitting down on the edge of his bed, he ran his hand up and down his dongsaeng's back. "Can you sit up for me, Lix?", he hummed, peeling the blanket back. The Aussie let out a discontent whine but propped himself up on one arm. "Can you try and have a few bites of rice and some water for me? I also found you medicine", the rapper tried. Shaking his head, Felix insisted: "No, medicine yes but the rest no." – "How are you going to get the medicine down without water?", Changbin quizzed, "Come on, sunshine, for me?" The dancer huffed but shuffled around till he sat up against the headboard. Accepting the bowl of rice from his hyung, Felix eyed the food with disgust before forcing himself to take a small bite into his mouth. Slowly chewing, he pulled a face and handed the bowl back. Changbin didn't take it back though, instead giving the younger a stern look. Pouting, Felix forced down two more bites before handing the bowl back to his hyung, who traded it for the water. He also handed the dancer a pill, which he swallowed dry before taking one tiny sip of water. "Lix, I'm pretty sure you're already dehydrated. You did so well, I'm sure you can take another sip", Changbin hummed, earning a glare from the younger. Though he didn't want to, Felix had some more water before handing the bottle back.

His food wasn't settling at all and mere minutes later, Felix sat hugging his churning tummy as his mouth watered. "H-Hyung?!", he choked out, hand clamped over his mouth as his stomach gurgled. Noticing the boy's slightly greenish complexion, Changbin rushed to place the trashcan into his lap. He knew he had been pushing it but he had hoped the medicine would keep him from throwing up again. Sitting down next to the dancer, Changbin gently massaged his shoulders as they waited. With his breathing coming in nauseous little huffs, Felix felt the room spin around him, desperately holding onto the trashcan to steady himself. He could feel his food right at the back of his throat but it wasn't coming. Hesitantly, he gave a little cough, which was all it took for his stomach to send everything up. Though he was pretty sure, everything he had just consumed had come up in one rush, Felix couldn't stop his throat from contracting with unproductive gags. Coughing, he choked out: "I hate you." – "I know you do", Changbin sighed, comfortingly rubbing the younger's back and brushing his sweaty bangs from his forehead. He felt sorry for making the Aussie sick again but if he kept going without keeping down any water, they'd have to take him to hospital.

When Felix finally deemed it safe to remove his head from the trashcan and lean back against the headboard, his forehead was glistening with sweat. His shirt clung to him making him feel even more disgusting than before. Changbin grabbed the trashcan and placed it down on the floor. "Let's take that off, hm?", he asked, gently pulling the dancer's shirt over his head, "Are you still cold? Do you want one of my hoodies as compensation?" Felix nodded tiredly, barely finding the energy to lift his arms, so the older could put it on him. "How about a change of scenery? The others are gone, so you could nap on the couch. We could put on some boring drama in the background", the rapper offered. Nodding, Felix rasped: "Sounds like fun but... Can you carry me? I don't think I can make it there." – "Sure thing", Changbin chuckled, picking the younger up. Placing him down on the couch, he told the dancer to wait there, so he could get a bucket and his water in case the Aussie would let himself be talked into drinking something. After getting everything settled, he lifted Felix' head and placed it on his lap, so he could play with the younger's hair. Exhausted from the whole ordeal, it didn't take long for Felix to drift off again.

While Felix was asleep, Changbin texted Chan about the dancer's condition, emphasizing that he really couldn't keep anything down at all. Now becoming more worried too, the leader stopped by a store to pick up some ginger ale and crackers for his dongsaeng. He hoped those things would settle better, at least he knew that that was what their families had always used in such situations. If it didn't help settle his stomach, it might at least give the younger a sense of home. While walking, Chan already started to shake the bottle of ginger ale, opening it repeatedly to get rid of the fizz. He quietly entered their dorm, not wanting to wake Felix up if he was resting. The sight looked truly pitiful. The dancer laying on the couch with his head in Changbin's lap, face white as a ghost except for a faint feverish blush on his cheekbones. He was wearing one of Changbin's sweaters, arms hugging his middle in his sleep. Chan wordlessly waved at Changbin, not wanting to disturb as he went to the kitchen to pour a glass of ginger ale. He also grabbed a small plate and put a few crackers on it. They looked really lonely but he'd already be happy if he could convince Felix of having a few of them.

Hearing a hushed conversation in the living room, the leader figured Felix had woken up and made his way over to them. "Hey, Binnie told me you're still not doing so well", he whispered with a sympathetic smile. The dancer shook his head and glanced at the things Chan was carrying. Realizing he was most likely supposed to eat that, he couldn't help but grimace already. Crouching next to the couch, Chan rubbed his arm through the hoodie and hushed: "I know you don't feel like eating that but we need to get you back on your feet somehow. You always used to eat those, right? Don't even have to be many crackers." Groaning, Felix sat up and rubbed his face. He knew Chan was only trying to help, Changbin too had meant well but his stomach was till so upset. He didn't think he could stomach anything. "I got all the fizz out of the ginger ale, so hopefully it will settle a better", the oldest mused, glancing at the box of medicine Changbin had left on the table, "Have a cracker and then just try having this medicine again, please?" Scrunching up his nose, Felix nodded and accepted one of the crackers. He took his time, nibbling on it. It didn't feel that bad on his stomach, so he nibbled down another one. The ginger ale really reminded him of home and he gladly took the medicine again. Sitting on the couch, he rested his head on Changbin's shoulder. Every once in a while, he took a small sip until the glass was empty and he laid back down to let the older lure him back to sleep.

[arrowflier]

Ian growing his first tomatoes and being proud of himself really excited to share them with Mickey and cooking with them everyday. But what he doesn't know is that tomatoes don't agree with Mickey. They upset his stomach and make him feel sick. He loves seeing Ian so happy and proud of himself so he doesn't tell him and eats everything he makes him. Ian eventually realizes what's going on. A prompt if you'd like to write it

Content Warnings: food, vomit

The first time it happened, Mickey assumed it was a coincidence. 

Ian had been so fucking excited for his first tomato crop; he'd spent ages looking up recipes, running ideas past anyone who would listen, and scrounging through old boxed from the house to look for weird cooking shit.  He had beamed when the day of his first harvest finally came, carrying those little red fruits in his big hands so carefully that you'd be forgiven for thinking them infants, or puppies, or some other fragile living thing.

So after an hour of Ian washing, slicing, and cooking up his new pride and joy, there was no way in he'll Mickey was going to ruin his husband's happy smile by telling him that just the smell of dinner was making his stomach churn.

It was probably nothing, he told himself, choking down bite after bite, letting out agreeable little hums after each one just to add to the sparkle in Ian's eyes.

Maybe lunch wasn't sitting well; he should have known not to eat anything offered by the Alibi, even under new management (especially under new management).  That had to be it.  There was no way it had anything to do with the dish Ian had painstakingly made from ingredients so fresh they had still been on the vine just hours before.

So Mickey swallowed his bile with the last bite on his plate, asked for seconds, and ate that too.  Then he made his excuses, ran down to the little restroom off the gym, and threw it all up where Ian wouldn't have to see.  He ignored the visible seeds and flecks of red tomato skin as he flushed the evidence away.

Just a coincidence, that was all.  Next time would go better.

The second time it happened, Mickey thought that maybe Ian was just a bad cook.  Ian's courage had been bolstered by his "successful" first attempt, apparently, because this time he went all out.  He'd even traded one of his precious tomatoes for some fresh herbs from the plot next to his in the community garden, just to make it special.

And special it was.  A special he'll, more like, when Mickey nearly voided his bowels an hour later on their new sofa.  He leapt up and made it to the bathroom just in time, and spent the next thirty minutes trying to quietly take care of things so Ian wouldn't hear.

Of course, Ian did hear, and he just had to ask about it.  They were getting ready for bed, Mickey tugging on a too-large sleep shirt from a pile of Ian's laundry, when a hand landed lightly on his waist.

"Feeling better?" Ian asked softly, rubbing soothing circles into the stretched skin of Mickey's sore belly.

"Uh, yeah," Mickey hedged, not wanting to reveal his lingering discomfort.  "It's nothing, really."

"You sure?" Ian asked, pressing closer against his back as his hand migrated to rest over Mickey's chest.  "You can tell me if something made you sick, you know," he said.  "I won't take it personally."

If he wasn't used to Ian hitting close to home while having absolutely no knowledge of what he was talking about, Mickey might have wondered then if his husband was catching on.

But it was an innocent enough question, after all.

"Nah, man," he said, pulling away to sit on the bed.  "Probably picked up a bug on our rounds or something."

Ian looked unconvinced, biting his lip, and Mickey rushed to reassure him.

"I'm be right as rain tomorrow," he promised.  "Just you watch."

Ian hesitated, but ultimately nodded, and joined him in bed.  He curled just a little tighter around Mickey than normal, hand resting carefully on his stomach.

It wasn't a lie, Mickey figured as he waited for sleep to claim him.  He would be fine by morning.  And next time, he'd do the cooking himself, just in case, and then this couldn't happen again.

By the third time, just the next morning, Mickey finally had to admit what he dreaded all along: it really was the goddamned tomatoes.

He’d made the omelets himself, using normal ingredients they got from the store, all things he had eaten before.  He’d mixed in some diced tomato, just for flavor, and because he knew Ian would like it.

And like it Ian did.  His husband was chowing down like someone might take away his plate if he didn’t eat fast enough, barely stopping to sip at his coffee, while Mickey sat silently across from him.

The first bite of his eggs had already almost done him in, the taste of the tomato now forever associated with stomach cramps and bile and bloating.  He knew there was no way for it to be effecting him already, but his stomach clenched when he tried to lift another bite to his lips, and he set down his fork with a clatter.

Ian stopped eating.

“Everything okay, Mickey?” he asked, concerned.  “You’ve barely touched your breakfast.”

“What are you lookin’ at my breakfast for?” Mickey deflected.  “Eyes on your own fuckin’ plate, you’ve got yours.”

Ian obediently ducked his head, but still managed to catch Mickey poking a chunk of tomato away from everything else on his plate.

“You don’t like the tomato?” he asked, ignoring Mickey’s exasperated sigh at his interference.  “I think they really add something.”

“Love them,” Mickey answered with a forced, toothy smile.  “Just saving the best for last.”  He stabbed at the tomato with his fork, spearing it, and lifted it to his lips to make a point.

“Yum,” he said around it as he chewed and forced himself to swallow.  “See?  Delic--”

Then he was up, away from the table, and running to the kitchen sink as it came right back up.

“Mickey, what the fuck?” Ian yelled, his chair sliding back with a screech as he hurried to join Mickey at the counter.

“Sorry,” Mickey managed, head still down, as Ian rubbed his back.  “Think something’s wrong with me; didn’t mean to waste it.”

Ian’s hand stilled.

“Waste it?” he asked.  “Mickey, what are talking about?”

“The tomatoes, Ian,” Mickey sighed.  “I know you’re fuckin’ proud of ‘em or whatever, but I just can’t keep ‘em down.”

“Can’t keep them...” Ian started, then stopped.  His hand fell away, only to reappear on the back of Mickey’s neck, forcing his to lift his head and look at him.

“Mickey,” Ian said firmly.  “How long has this been going on?”

Mickey didn’t answer.  Ian shook him, just lightly, then winced when it set him retching again into the stainless steel sink.

“How long have my tomatoes been making you sick, Mickey?” he asked again, quieter, and Mickey finally gave in.

“Few days,” he muttered, and Ian let go of him completely.

“A few--Mickey, it’s only been a few days.  And I’ve been putting them in everything.”

Ian sounded worried, almost distraught, and that was exactly what Mickey had been trying to avoid.

“No, it’s fine,” he insisted, pushing away from the sink.  He forced himself to swallow past the burning bile in his throat.  “I’m not some fuckin’ pussy-ass kid, Gallagher, I know how to work through a fuckin’ stomach ache.”

If anything, that only made Ian look more concerned.

“I know you do, Mick,” he said.  “But why the hell did you think you had to?  Terry’s gone, we’re doing good; you know you don’t need to do shit like that anymore.”

Oh.  

“You’re not upset?” Mickey asked, just to clarify, and Ian rubbed a hand over his face.

“Of course I’m upset, Mickey,” he sighed.  “You lied to me for days because what, you didn’t want to look weak?”

“No,” Mickey said.  “Cause I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

Ian took a deep breath.

“Mickey,” he said slowly.  “I promise my feelings aren’t hurt just because you can’t stomach tomatoes.  It really wouldn’t have been a big deal.”

Mickey shrugged.  “I should be able to, though,” he said.  “Ketchup, soup, fucking pasta--I eat all that no problem, and we just had extra sauce on our pizza last week.�� It’s just...”

He hesitated to say it out loud.

“Just my tomatoes,” Ian finished for him.  ‘Right.”

Ian took a step forward, and took Mickey’s hand.  He guided him back over to the table, sat him down--moving his plate away so he didn’t have to look at it--and joined him there.

“Mickey,” he started.  “Maybe it’s not just that.”  Mickey bit his lip, figuring that Ian cared more than he let on if he wanted to find some other excuse, but what his husband said next surprised him.

“I mean,” Ian continued, “it’s not like either of us had a lot of fresh ingredients around growing up.”

Well, he was right about that.

“And really fresh stuff, not processed, none of the preservative shit we’ve been eating our whole lives...well, it’s not your fault that your system doesn’t know what to do with it.”

“Still wish I could eat it,” Mickey grumbled, feeling a little better in spite of himself.  “It makes you so happy, man, and I had to go and ruin it.”

Ian laughed.

“You didn’t ruin anything, you idiot,” he said fondly.  “But next time I want to try something new, maybe we’ll take it a little slower, yeah?”

Mickey nodded.

“And maybe,” Ian added, “You’ll tell me there’s a problem before you puke all over our dishes.”

Mickey looked over to the sink, where sure enough, the majority of their dishes were piles and waiting to be washed, now needing it more than ever.

Oops.

“At least they were already dirty?” he said, and Ian smiled.

“Yeah,” he agreed.  “At least there’s that.”

He leaned forward, and pressed a kiss to Mickey’s head.  Then he grabbed up Mickey’s unfinished breakfast and a fork.

“Really, Gallagher?” Mickey asked.  “You still wanna eat after that?”

“Why not?” Ian answered, mouth already full.  “Besides, if you don’t like it,” he added, a stray piece of egg clinging to the side of his mouth, “then all the more for me.”

It was Mickey’s turn to grin, even as he watched the gruesome show that was Ian trying to eat.

Tomatoes or not, table manners or not, he really loved that man.

[one-sad-human]

•Sweet Child O’ Mine• Izzy Stradlin

Pairing: Izzy Stradlin x Reader

Requested? Yes! By @rocknrollsoul76

Theme: Fluff

Warnings: Pregnancy, some language

Word Count: 1k

A/N: —

     You retch again in the toilet, your loving boyfriend holding back your hair and rubbing your back. You groan and press your hand to your forehead. You know you look like a disgusting mess, but Izzy looks at you unbothered and full of love.

     "You've been like this for almost two weeks, don't you think it's maybe time to call a doctor?" Izzy asks, his voice low to not aggravate your headache.

     "I'm fine, it's probably nothing," you say, pulling away from the toilet to lean against the cold porcelain of the bathtub, enjoying the feeling of the cool against your back. "I hate doctors."

     "I know, but I really think you should go see what's wrong." You sigh and nod in defeat. "Take a shower, I'll make the appointment for you."

     You smile gratefully. Izzy helps you stand and kisses your forehead tenderly before leaving you in the bathroom. You strip from your sweaty clothes and step into the warm shower.

Once you're done and washed up, you walk out of the bathroom to look for Izzy. You're head is still pounding slightly, but feels much better after the hot shower.

"I set up your appointment," Izzy says, beckoning you to sit next to him on the couch. "It's for today at three."

You scowl but nod, dropping your head on his shoulder. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer.

"You feel any better?" He asks, rubbing circles on your slightly damp skin. You nod and nuzzle even closer to him, if that's humanly possible. "I'm supposed to go to the studio, you want me to call Axl and tell him I can't go?"

"No, no, go. I'm a big girl, I can go to the doctors myself." You're a little disappointed, you really hated the doctors and aren't too keen on going alone, but you didn't want to start a fight between Izzy and Axl either.

"Alright, but if it's something big call me, ok?" You nod and Izzy kisses your lips before standing. "Actually, call even if it's nothing but a virus like you say."

You laugh but nod. Izzy may seem cool and collected, but he really is a huge worrywart— especially when it comes to you. He's just a huge over thinker.

"I will, don't worry." He grabs his car keys and pecks your lips one last time before he's out the door.

     A few hours later and you're sat on one of those uncomfortable paper covered tables. The nurse had already poked and prodded at you along with asking uncomfortable questions.

     You twiddle your thumbs and glance at the clock every couple seconds. There's a short knock on the door before it's swung open by your nurse.

     "Congratulations, you're pregnant!"

     The words don't even really seep in. Shock takes over and you feel sick. The minutes after don't fully register, but you somehow end up sitting in your car.

     How would Izzy react? You have mentioned kids before, but they were more a faraway fantasy rather than reality. Kids are supposed to come after you and Izzy had settled down, after you had traveled and done everything you wanted, not now.

     You rest your head against the steering wheel and take a deep breath before starting up the car. Ironically, Sweet Child O' Mine is blaring through the speakers.

     You turn it down and begin the ride home, and you're so overtaken by your thoughts, you're surprised you got home in one piece. You glance at the phone when you walk inside your home, but you couldn't call.

     It wouldn't be right to tell him over the phone. You consider calling just to tell him that you'll talk when he gets home, but that would probably just make him even more nervous.

     So you wait, impatiently and full to the brim with nerves until he walks through the door.

     "Hey, you didn't call. Was it nothing?" Izzy asks, sitting across from you at the small kitchen table. You slowly put the magazine that you were staring at on the table.

     "Not exactly..." you say, trying to plan out your words carefully. "Izzy, I'm pregnant."

     Izzy keeps his cool, he nods slowly with his eyes scanning your face. He takes a moment before opening his mouth.

     "Ok." His short response renders you speechless.

     "'Ok?' That's all you're going to say?" You say, now getting frustrated. Izzy takes a sigh and smiles, making you even angrier.

     "I kind of had a hunch."

     "You had a hunch and didn't tell me?" You say. This conversation is simultaneously pissing you off and calming you down, because this is far from the worst case scenario.

     "I wasn't sure if I was right or not! I didn't want to get my hopes up," he says, taking your hand in his.

     "Get your hopes up? Were you hoping I was pregnant?"

     "A little. I was scared at first, but I just kept imagining how amazing it would be to have a family with you," he shrugs, "and then it wasn't so scary anymore."

     "Oh, Izzy." Tears spring to your eyes before you can stop them. He opens his arms and you take no time to rush into them. You sit on his lap and tuck your head into his neck. "How did you even know?"

     "You've been throwing up every morning, waking up in the middle of the night to eat the shittiest, most disgusting snacks I've ever seen," you giggle but he carries on, "but most importantly, your period is late."

     You lift your head slowly and gawk at him. How has he realized and not you?

     "How do you know that?" He shrugs.

     "We've been together forever, it isn't that hard to keep track of after a while." You start to tear up again. "Why're you crying? Don't get all sappy on me."

     "I love you," you say and nuzzle your face in Izzy's neck.

     "I love you, too," Izzy says, his voice notably softer than before. “And I can’t wait to be a dad.”

While kids weren’t part of your plan, you would’ve have it any other way. You know that you and Izzy would make great parents, and all the worrying you did just an hour ago was meaningless.

[limitlessgojo]

Blood Bound: Blackened Bond (Ch 17)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood, Death, Gore, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Japanese Mythical Folklore, No Major Character Death, !Character Suicide!

Previous Chapter: Non-Standard

Next Chapter: 百鬼夜行 - Hyakki Yakou

Word Count: 3k

Tags: Kamo Noritoshi x Reader, Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj @rizzo-nero @whoreuc @fkngkumiko @isl3t @gojoussunglasses @onepotatostand-blog @s-t-f-u-b-i-t-c-h @sunaswife @lordguameow @track5enthusiast @nayydoesthings @a1hina

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, and specify if you're okay with NSFW posts or not, please mention it in the comments below ty ❤

Extra Notes: PLEASE CHECK THE TAGS!!! This is one very loaded Chapter. Some might get triggered over the graphic depictions of violence. This is close to a bit of gore.

Chapter 17: Inferno: Flames of Hell

You wake up in the infirmary. Hiroki had healed you beforehand. You abruptly sat up, looking around the room, before finding him, cleaning some medical tools. “Thanks Niichan.” He smiled as he came over to hug you and messed up your hair.

“It’s okay. I didn't think Satoru would push you this hard. He’s a good teacher for you, much as I hate to call him a good teacher. Did you consider going to Tokyo Jujutsu Tech instead? You could’ve gone ya know, we wouldn’t hold you back.”

You mulled it over. “I think I’m staying here. I’ve settled in and everyone around me is amazing. They’re like a second family to me.”

He smiled before looking a bit annoyed. “Yeah well, glad you like them at least. Someone’s been waiting all this time for you. Rude if I don’t let him see ya, right sis?”

Hiroki walked over to the door and opened it, revealing Noritoshi with one hand up as if to knock.

Your mouth opened and closed.

“Y/n.” He was still so determined. What makes him have so much faith in you? You looked back to Hiroki, but he only gave you his trademark "Get your shit together" look and waved you off.

You walked up to Noritoshi by the doorway, and he stood back to let you through. You both ended walking quietly side by side in the hallway.

Noritoshi smiled, you didn’t run away from him for once.

"Y/n, can we… talk if you're up for it?" He asked quietly, a small sad smile on his face.

You took a deep breath, turned to face him and were thrown into a vision.

◇◇◇

"They've found us, run for it, love." Hotaru dragged you away from the small inn you were both staying at.

You stumbled after him and ran off. A member of the Abe clan had seen the both of you in the midst of fighting curses at an abandoned shrine. They tried to chase the both of you down, but you both fought back and ran further away until they’ve lost sight of you.

But currently, you are facing a much larger problem. A shadow in the distance. Just the silhouette of the curse was enough to etch despair deep in your bones.

With four large arms, two faces and a gigantic body, Ryomen Sukuna could be identified easily. You grabbed onto Hotaru and tried to push you both forward with your technique.

"Uraume. After them. I've heard rumours about a fated pair. It seems as if they are the ones." Sukuna smirked.

"As you wish." Uraume quickly caught up to the both of you.

They quickly froze your escape path, sealing you both in a circle of ice. Hotaru held you as you activated Inferno to break the ice and continued running. You were both dangerously running low on cursed energy. Especially as Hotaru had just fought over a dozen of curses.

"Hooh?? The woman does have power. I want her." Sukuna's eyes lit up madly. He shot a flaming arrow, forcing you to push Hotaru behind you.

Sukuna focused and slashed both Hotaru from behind. Uraume shot shards of ice towards you, but Hotaru shifted your positions.

You watched in horror as your lover took the attack for you. He was bleeding profusely and even his technique couldn’t help him from anemia.

“No no no no no, stay with me.” You screamed at him.

“Misaki, my love, for you I’d burn down the world, travel across thousands of miles, and kill anyone who tried to hurt you. I love you and I’m sorry we can’t be together much longer.” He teared up while cupping the side of your cheek.

“No, don’t go.” You leaned down to press your lips against his, trying to give him a bit of air. But it wasn’t enough. His hand fell limp and he breathed his last. Kamo Hotaru died in your arms.

"Hotaru, no." You sobbed out painfully, hugging his cold body to your chest.

"The talk of the town huh? You must be the soulmate pair judging by the marks on your hands." Sukuna stepped up with Uraume right behind him.

He was a terrifying sight upclose.

You froze as he knelt down and lifted your chin, "What a beauty you are. I wouldn't mind playing with you for a while and having you all to myself, before eating you up." He licked his lips lavisciously.

"So young, and such soft skin." Sukuna's hand trailed down your cheek and squeezed along the curves of your trembling body.

You never felt more dirty in your life. A man other than your lover, touching you like this. "Be my toy, would you? Your lover is dead after all. Why not humor me?" Sukuna jeered. He didn’t care about your silent sobs, even relishing in how you looked right now.

Utterly destroyed. With a monster claiming he wants you for himself.

He grabbed your chin roughly and forced a kiss on your lips. You snapped out of your shock, feeling your anger overcome your fear.

‘I'd rather die than let him have me.'

And so, you pushed Sukuna and Uraume far away and built a solid air barrier around you and Hotaru.

You thrust a hand out and an oil lamp came flying your way. It broke in front of you. Inferno was activated to spread the flames quickly. 'We are meant to stay together, my love, even if it means death.' You quickly slit your throat with a harsh cut, not wanting to die a slow death in the flames.

You choked out blood as Sukuna came near. He shattered your barrier easily with Dismantle, reaching for you. You panicked. You weren't going to die in time.

And you did the craziest thing you could think of. Activating Niflheim simultaneously with Inferno. Freezing everything around you, except for the still burning flames consuming you and Hotaru.

It didn't help too much. Sukuna produced flames out of his hand, while Uraume easily manipulated the frost.

Lightning shot out of your hands dangerously in your confusion. You don't know what you just did. But it didn't matter. You were quickly losing consciousness.

Crimson splattered onto the ground and over Hotaru’s corpse. You burned past the limits of your cursed energy, releasing bolts of lightning.

Sukuna’s hand reached out and activated his reverse cursed technique on you. “Not so fast.” He looked angry.

He was able to seal the cut, but with the last of your energy, you used Inferno on your body, bursting into flame before Sukuna and Uraume.

They were forced to back away and stared as you and Hotaru both turned to ash, the heat an insane temperature they couldn’t approach.

Sukuna threw his head back and cackled, "The lengths people go to for love. What fools Jujutsu sorcerers are!"

◇◇◇

The vision ends. You and Noritoshi gasp harshly. The hallway is covered in ice.

You slowly realized you unconsciously activated Niflheim. You swiped your palm through the air. All the windows along the hallway simultaneously opened.

The vision was far too vivid.

You covered your throat with your hands as though to stop a wound from opening, remembering how the dagger dragged through your neck bones. The flames felt painful as they ate at your body without your cursed technique protecting you from them.

Noritoshi kneeled down and touched his gut. He felt the poison of Sukuna's slash and Uraume's ice eat his body. After his past soul had died. Hotaru's spirit watched the events transpire from above you. So he was able to see it from a 3rd person's point of view.

How Sukuna had wanted you. How you ended your life for him.

You staggered back from Noritoshi, face as white as a sheet, running for the bathroom with bile rising up your throat.

That vision was eerily reminiscent of how Sora-nee died in your arms. You were on the borderline of hyperventilating.

Noritoshi ran after you, “Wait!”. You stumbled into the girl’s bathroom, opened a cubicle door and vomited everything out into the toilet.

The sounds of retching were loud even from outside. Noritoshi halted in his tracks when he saw that you’ve gone into the ladies room.

Fuck manners. If it was to take care of you, he doesn’t care about being gentlemanly or if he was called a pervert. He rushed in, wrapped his arms around you, pulled back your hair and rubbed soothing circles on your stomach.

You were vomiting pretty hard, to the point where it hurt your abdomen. “My dear angel, shhhh it's okay, I'm here.” You continued heaving and reached back with one hand to push him away. But Noritoshi was incredibly stubborn, not letting go of you.

“Noritoshi I literally smell like shit, please leave.”

“Nope. I don't care. I will take care of you. As your soulmate I’m responsible for you.”

Your eye twitched at that.

Both of you were still trembling from the aftermath of the vision. How terrible and cursed it was, that past life.

You closed the lid, flushed the toilet, then lifted it again. You leaned over with heavy breaths, but it looks like you’re done puking. Noritoshi just sat behind you, his hands stroking your belly, keeping your body warm.

It was nice. But he’s not yours anymore. It was only then you felt something wet on your shoulder. Noritoshi was crying.

“It almost… felt like I just lost you… My darling...” loud hitches of breath echoed in the bathroom.

You froze, not knowing how to comfort him at a time like this. You patted his head, and he leaned into your hand.

Even as you close your eyes, the images keep racing through the back of your eyelids. Flames. Blood. Lightning. Hotaru.

“I need to wash up in the sink.”

Noritoshi gave a soft grunt in reply, arms tightening around your waist. You stood up and half dragged him out of the cubicle. He never lets go. His arm is still around your waist, making you half waddle around the bathroom with him like a penguin with its child.

You brush your teeth with the spare toothbrush Jujutsu High has for its guests and rinse your mouth with several cups of mouthwash, the strong scent of mint hanging in the air. You spat it all out, but you still felt nauseous.

You turned and wiped away his tears with your sleeve. He bent down and tucked you under his chin, breathing in your scent. You were both alive. It was fine.

You pulled back when the door slammed open. It was Momo and Mai.

“......”

“.....”

The four of you had a stare off before realizing Noritoshi wasn’t supposed to be in there.

“Kamo kun, you’re in the wrong bathroom. Have you dumbed down so much you’ve forgotten?” Momo asked with wide eyes.

Mai stared at you and noticed how sick you looked. You just shook your head at her and quickly walked out of the bathroom, shrugging Noritoshi’s hand off of you.

'To hell with all this.', you thought to yourself

◇◇◇

"Wait!"

Noritoshi caught up to you in the hallway, grabbed your hand and turned you around to face him. He stopped caring about where he was.

"I'm never giving up on you. I won't, because I love you and I know that now."

You sniffed hard, tears running down your cheeks. You've had enough of this confusion. If you're being truthful to yourself, you missed him.

You missed Noritoshi and his kind words. His touch and his kisses. His soft bits of encouragement and picnic dates.

You want him back. It was just as Hiroki had said, you were pushing Noritoshi away without giving him a chance to explain himself.

But the vision completely broke you. You pulled your hand away, "Don't touch me. Don't follow me. Don't come near me." You whispered.

Noritoshi swallowed hard. "Why won't you let me explain myself?" But you just shook your head.

"Maybe we weren't what we thought we were." You didn't mean it, but you still forced the words out painfully.

Noritoshi flinched, "Why would you say that? You believed in us. I still believe in us. In you."

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, "That vision. Why did we have it? We could be dooming ourselves by staying together, Noritoshi, I can't do that to you. Maybe I am cursed to hurt the ones I love."

He scoffed. "Preposterous. They are our past lives, but they aren't us. We are different people with different choices. You’re not cursed Y/N, since when have you become so narrow minded?"

You stiffened. "Maybe I have always been so. I'm just tired of everything now. Plus I need to take down that damn curse, even if it kills me." You spun on your heel.

Something inside Noritoshi snapped. He now understands how it feels to be pushed away like an outsider. He grabbed your wrist, ignoring your angry whispers as he single-handedly dragged you back into his room.

This man was strong. Not even your hardest tugs threw him off balance. He slammed the door shut once you were both inside and you felt a bit shaken, not having any place to run.

"Why are you trying to do this all by yourself?! You may be a Special Grade Sorcerer, but that doesn't mean you're invincible! A war is not won by one person. Can't you trust me?" He hissed.

"Trust you? Trust you?! How about me? Big words from someone who didn't even want to let me meet or know the people he holds dear to him."

This was the most idiotic argument you had in your life. You didn't even mean half the words that you were saying. Just wanting to win a pointless argument you wished never existed in the first place.

"I thought you agreed to speak to me if that was still bothering you. You said we would work things out together." Noritoshi shook your shoulders.

You held your tongue not knowing what else to say. Noritoshi was still so sweet after all this mess. Pulling you into a warm embrace, patting your head as he cries into your shoulder.

"Will you stay with me at least? During the war.”

"Of course." You didn't even think as you agreed. Even Noritoshi looked surprised at your lack of reluctance. "I won't lose you."

You both stood awkwardly there, not knowing what to do. Noritoshi didn't want you to leave yet, wanting to bask a bit more in your presence. His mark cooled down as his hand slipped into yours.

But you stepped and turned away from him, ignoring how his fingers desperately clung onto the hem of your shirt. "I'll go then… Don’t want to intrude... "

"Would you like to stay for dinner and talk?" He called out hopefully.

"Thank you for the offer, but I'll be with Hiro-nii in my room." You purse your lips.

"I love you." He said once more. There was no room for hesitation in his voice.

You paused, temples throbbing heavily from the onset of a headache. Too many thoughts raced through your head and not all of them were good.

"I don't know what you heard the other day, but I will never take in any concubines. You're my one and only, Angel."

You only half believed him right now, his words going in one ear and leaving through the other. ‘People can lie. He is capable of lying.’ your shitty brain just makes every situation sound worse each time. This type of negative line of thinking was so unhealthy.

He must have understood your thoughts.

"My love please," he's begging you now. You turn to him, face full of confusion and hurt. You opened your mouth, and thought better.

This wasn't the best time to run your thoughts.

"I’m sorry for being in a really bad headspace right now. Are you willing to wait for me?" This time it was you who asked him this. Noritoshi studied your face before nodding. “That’s okay. As you have with me, I will do the same with you.”

You sucked a deep breath, eyes watering. “I’m scared.”

“It’s okay to be scared, we are just kids. We aren’t supposed to bear the weight of saving a nation this early on.”

“I don’t want to lose anyone anymore.”

“You won’t. We won’t.”

“I’m sorry for being such a pain. I know we need to talk about all of this, eventually.” You couldn’t help the whimpers that came out of your mouth.

“I love every bit of you. Even if you're like this… No... Because I understand how you feel. You have a right to be angry, because I held back a lot of things from you. But that doesn’t mean I don’t miss you or love you.” He carefully put out a palm facing up, allowing you to make a choice. You slowly put your hand over his.

“For real?” you whispered so quietly, he had to strain his ears to hear you.

“For real. Since when have I lied to you?”

‘Not once.’ you numbly thought.

Who knew a man could be so delicate. He held your hand lightly, not daring to squeeze it. Just a sign of openness and faith. He lowered his head towards you, eyes hooded.

You shivered as his lips brushed against the back of your hand. Soft, warm and plush. Like the first time he kissed you on the cheek. Shaky yet loving.

"Get some rest then, good night." You left the room.

He wondered if you still loved him now. Gone were the nights you soundly slept in his arms. He could barely pull himself together as he readied himself for dinner and bed.

Back in your room, you sobbed into your pillow. It hurts so much, because your faith in Noritoshi isn’t what it used to be. You wish for yourself to trust him like you did before. It’s frustrating.

There are times you wish you never heard that conversation. But that means staying ignorant to his familial affairs which won't do you any good in the long run.

Love is painful. Love feels like you've filled your lungs with water and you can't breathe. Sometimes it's like that icy inhale of the cold morning air on the winter solstice.

But it also keeps you going. The warmth of being in Noritoshi's arms earlier was more than enough to convince you to stay.

Blood Bound: Table of Contents

[secretobsessionstuff]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My stomach.”

“You already said that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sick. I think I might puke.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then fall asleep. I won’t stop.”

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