#okay I dunno it’s the flu

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

I am sooooo sick, and I think what makes it worse is how it makesme start wishing.

I wish there were someone to check on me. I wish there were someone to insist I rest while they do thing like take care of the animals. I wish there were someone to offer to bring me a warm drink. I wish there were someone with cool hands to rub my feverish back**. That sort of wishing.

So here I am sick, and my thoughts start spiraling around all those things I can’t have that really boil down to one thing:

I miss being loved.

But that’s the background, the atmosphere, the very air I breathe, this permenent isolation. The more practical tug of war of being sick goes on.

I should rest.

I have things I need to do so I can’t rest.

If I rested I would just start thinking about the problems I need to deal with***, all infused withthis sadness and loneliness. That’s not rest.

The body needs rest before it breaks!!!

The brain needs activity to distract it!!

I hate being sick. Hate, hate , hate it. To indulge or fight the illness occupies my every miserable moment.

I wish there were some to help me out so I could rest for a day….

There I go, wishing again! Damn it!

Gah, I have to get well again so I can go back to pushing myself to constant activity. My “no wishes, hopes, or dreams” policy works well to keep me almost content with my life as it is, until something like this happens. Fantasies about being cared for are just my brain torturing myself. I need to rest AND be too busy to feel. Somehow.

I really hate being sick!! LOL

**OMG, I just realized how many years it’s been since anyone rubbed my back! Intellectually I realize no one will ever rub my back again, but emotionally it’s looking back and seeing the reality of it that makes it so hard. We were a family of hard work and back rubs. I still have the hard physical work to do, but no back rubs afterwards.

*** New discovery: I have to buy a tire! One of the car tires has somehow gotten so treadless I am in big, big trouble if I don’t replace it. Unfortunately affording a new tire right now is big, big trouble in itself!

[writinginatree]

Kisses & Confessions

Relationship(s): Garrick Tavis/fem!Riorson!reader

Summary: Garrick accidentally steals your first kiss, which leads to some long overdue confessions.

Part 2

You wake up to the sound of someone knocking on your door. Though, really, waking up is an exaggeration. You're blinking at the pale sunlight streaming into the room through the half-open curtains, too sleepy to even sit up. Maybe you're lucky and whoever is at the door will go away if you don't answer.

"Y/N? You still in there?"

You groan. Guess they won't go away. And worse, you hear a click as the bothersome person uses lesser magic to unlock the door. It swings open, revealing — Garrick. You let your head drop back into the pillow and turn to face the wall, whining for him to let you sleep.

"If I do that you're going to miss breakfast," he answers.

You hear the sound of your door being closed again, followed by his footsteps coming toward your bed. Your stomach growls at the mention of breakfast, but you're so warm and comfy right now. If Garrick let you, you could fall right back asleep. Unfortunately, he seems to have no intention of that. The mattress dips as he sits down on the edge of the bed, and you clutch your covers tighter around you, sure he'll try to snatch them away any second.

But he doesn't — not yet, at least. For now, he just pokes you in the side. "Come on. I'm tired, too, but we have to act normal, or people will wonder what we were doing last night."

That gets you a little more awake. You'd been out smuggling weapons to the fliers the night before, and had almost gotten caught returning. Afterwards, you'd lain awake for hours, tossing and turning uselessly. You couldn't have been asleep for much more than an hour or so when Garrick woke you up.

"Xaden won't let you come on these trips anymore if you can't get up the next morning," he adds.

Turning on your back to face him, you rub the sleep from your eyes and explain, "It's not the trip. I just couldn't fall asleep afterwards."

"Why not?"

"Dunno. Too many thoughts in my head, I guess. Srian got tired of it and blocked me out so she could go to sleep. I was gonna get up and do some last minute studying, but then I guess I fell asleep for a bit after all."

The last word stretches into a yawn, and Garrick gives you a sympathetic look. You wonder how you look to him right now. Does he think you're cute, all sleepy and soft like this? Or do your messy hair and the dark circles you doubtlessly have under your eyes make you look appalling to him? Not that it should matter. He's seen you in much worse states before — like that time when you were eight and you and Xaden both were down with the flu, or when you got depressed over your mother leaving. But you were kids then. It's different now, and things that never mattered before suddenly do.

"Five more minutes," you grumble. "I'll just skip breakfast."

Garrick laughs. "Alright, sleepyhead. I'll tell Chradh to tell Cuir to tell Bodhi to save you a pastry or something. But if you don't get up in the next ten minutes you'll be late for class."

"Mhh, thank you. Tell him I want something with chocolate, yeah?"

"Right, because he totally doesn't know that. You always want everything with chocolate, Y/N."

"Tell him anyway," you insist. "Just to be sure."

"Okay, okay," he laughs, and after a moment, "I've passed it on."

You close your eyes again for a moment, cautiously reaching out to your own dragon. Lazy thing that she is, Srian is still asleep herself, just like you expected. If only you could afford the same luxury.

"Is this your definition of getting up?" Garrick asks.

"You said I still have ten minutes before I'm late for class."

"Yeah, and I'm guessing you'll need every one of those minutes to get dressed and search that mess on your desk for everything you need for class."

Unfortunately, he's not wrong.

Sitting up, you only now realize just how close he is to you. The fact that you would be sitting on his lap if you moved just a little closer to him shouldn't make your heart race the way it does, but ever since you came to Basgiath a little over a year ago, you've been developing a crush on Garrick — a crush that only seems to get worse with time. You still don't know where it came from. You've known Garrick practically your whole life, and he's always been one of your closest friends, but until last year, your feelings for him were strictly platonic. Maybe it's just that you'd never thought about it before. But on your first day in the quadrant, when you'd seen him again for the first time in what felt like forever, he'd looked so undeniably hot in his new second-year uniform that you saw him in a completely new light. No longer just your brother's best friend, but a very hot and loveable guy. You'd thought it was just a temporary crush you would soon get over, but now that you're a second-year yourself, you're still hopelessly pining after him.

While you're distracted thinking about how close he is, he leans in even closer to kiss your cheek — only you turn your head to look at him better at the same moment, so instead his lips land right on yours. Your breath catches in your throat, and if you weren't awake before, you definitely are now. It's barely a second before he pulls back and apologizes, but that second might honestly have been the best of your life. You can't exactly tell him that, but you do tell him he doesn't have to apologize. You know very well that he only meant to kiss your cheek, like he's done hundreds of times before throughout all the years you've known each other.

And unlike you, he seems to be completely unaffected by your accidental kiss. No trembling, no quickened breathing, not even the hint of a blush. He's as cool as ever, and you kind of hate him for it.

"I don't think I've ever seen you this flustered," he chuckles. "You're almost acting as if you've never been kissed before."

"Well, I haven't!"

"Wait, seriously?"

The shock on his face is almost comical, and it takes all your willpower to bite back your grin so he won't think you're messing with him.

"Yeah, seriously."

"Shit, I'm sorry."

Now you do smile. "It's okay. There's no one I'd have rather given my first kiss to," you admit. It's true — it's certainly not for a lack of opportunities that you've never kissed anyone. You simply refuse to get involved with people who only want you for your last name, and ever since you joined the quadrant, you've only had eyes for Garrick, anyway.

"That wasn't a very good kiss, though. Barely even counts as one." He hesitates for a second, then adds, "I could give you a real one if you'd like."

Oh gods. Did he really just offer to kiss you again? For real this time? If this is a dream, you never want to wake up.

You nod — maybe a little too eagerly.

Garrick cups your cheek with one big hand, turning your head a little to get the perfect angle. "Close your eyes," he softly instructs, and then his lips are on yours again, only this time they stay there longer, moving against yours while you kiss back as best as you can.

You don't think about the consequences this might have for your friendship, of how awkward it might make things. All this time you've tried to ignore your feelings, because this is your brother's best friend, because you didn't want to make things weird, because you thought he doesn't see you like that anyway. And now here you are, chasing his lips when he pulls away after a few seconds.

"You liked that, huh?" Garrick teases.

"Maybe," you say, grinning even as all the blood rushes to your face. "But I think I might need another one to be sure."

Shit. You can't believe you actually said that. You're going too far, you're sure of that the moment the words are out.

"Is that so?" Garrick asks. He's still grinning too, but even so it makes you regret asking. You're making things awkward, gods damn it.

"I mean— you don't have to, obviously. If you don't want to—"

He cuts you off. "Shh, just come here."

Just like that, his mouth is on yours once more, and oh, you're definitely getting addicted. This is bad. But it feels so damn good, so right, even more so when his tongue parts your lips to explore the inside of your mouth. All logical thought leaves your head at that point, and if your mouth wasn't otherwise occupied, you would've blurted out your feelings for him then and there.

"I've wanted to do this for longer than you can imagine," Garrick surprises you by saying when you separate again, both a little out of breath.

"You did?"

Now he's the one looking like he regrets saying anything, and a tiny spark of hope blooms in your chest. Could it be? Could he really feel the same?

"Well— I mean... yeah," he says, unusually reluctant. And is that a blush spreading on his face? You think it is, and gods, if that doesn't make you want to kiss him some more.

"Well, I've thought about kissing you for quite some time, too, to be honest," you say.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

For a moment you sit in silence, both processing what the other just revealed. You want to say more, take the chance to tell him you like him, but at the same time you're scared you're reading too much into this. Just because he's been wanting to kiss you doesn't have to mean he has feelings for you too, does it? If he did, surely he would have said something. Though of course you haven't said anything, either. And you're still not sure you should. This could ruin your friendship.

But damn it, you're a rider, not a coward, so you take a deep breath and admit, "Actually, I've kind of had a crush on you for a while now."

You closely watch his reaction, whole body tense with anticipation. Please don't laugh, you pray. Whatever you do, don't laugh at me. On some level, you know that fear is completely unnecessary. Garrick isn't mean like that; if he doesn't feel the same, he'll let you down gently. But part of you still worries he'll find the thought of you crushing on him so ridiculous he won't be able to help laughing. After all, you're his best friend's little sister. Only a year younger, sure, but when you've grown up together, a year can mean a lot. But if that were all he sees you as, he wouldn't be wanting to kiss you, right?

Slowly, a smile spreads over his face, and no, it's not a mean or disbelieving one. It's soft and genuine and takes your breath away.

"I like you too. I just didn't say anything because... you know..."

"Xaden."

He nods. "Xaden. I was going to ask him for permission before asking you out, but I kept putting it off because I wasn't sure how he'd react."

"Well, I don't care what Xaden thinks." That's not entirely true. In fact, you care a lot what your brother thinks, which is one of the reasons you tried to ignore your crush on Garrick. But even if Xaden does have a problem with you being into his best friend — now that you know Garrick feels the same, you're not going to let that get in the way. "He'll just have to deal with it. Now stop worrying about my brother and kiss me again."

Garrick happily complies, and in the end, you're both late for class.

[holdmytesseract]

A cute little drabble request for baby fever in the future or for the sleepover: Y/N, Ella, and 2 year old Narfi all get sick with the flu and loki has to take care of all of them, Y/N being the sickest, feels like she is dying and Loki comforts her. Just a little cute one.

Caring Husband and Father

Warnings: sickness a.k.a the flu, fluff

Word Count: blurb

a/n: Thank you for this request, friend. This drabble turned out to be so soft and sweet! 🥹

"Dada," Narfi sobbed on Loki's arm; head lolling from side to side against his father's chest. "I know, little prince, I know..." The god whispered and pressed his lips against the top of his son's curly haired head; trying to reassure him. In vain. Narfi kept on whining and sobbing.

"Are your earaches worse, huh?" The little boy just snivelled and rubbed his snotty nose against Loki's t-shirt. He sighed, "Thought so." and shifted the two-year-old on his arm, so that he could check on his temperature. "But I think your fever sunk a bit. That's good."

Narfi had caught a nasty flu. Well, only because Ella had caught it. He got it from his big sister and well, you... You caught it as well. Everybody was knocked out by it. Except Loki. Perhaps it was his godly biology, which prevented him from getting sick easily. A thing which you were glad about, because he could look after you and the kids. A task he submitted himself to happily.

The god walked with the toddler still on his arm into the kitchen, in order to give him some meds against the flu itself and especially earaches. The boy swallowed bravely the disgustingly tasting medicine. "There you go," Loki pressed a kiss on his forehead. "You are so brave, sweet boy." Narfi sobbed once more and cuddled back against his dad's chest; little arms looping around his neck.

"Come on, little prince, time for a nap." He carried Narfi into the living room and laid down with him on the sofa; knowing that his son was way too clingy and wouldn't let go of him now.

Loki's seidr helped Narfi's earaches at least a little bit and so he slept in on top of Loki; snugly wrapped up in a blanket. It was absolutely cosy and Narfi's weight upon his upper body so comfortable, it almost lulled the raven haired god to sleep as well. He was about to doze off, when a quiet voice brought him back down to earth.

"B-Babe?"

At the sound of your voice, Loki's eyes immediately flew open; head turning to face the door. His heart broke then and there, as he saw you standing there, wrapped up in a fluffy blanket. You were utterly pale and had deep rings underneath your eyes. He could see how weak you were and how bad you felt. The flu had really taken its toll on you...

Loki stood up instantly, but carefully - not to wake the toddler sleeping on his chest, "I'm here, darling." and stepped over to you. "Do you need anything, my love? Can I help you?" You coughed, which caused your whole body to shake; eyes glassy. "I-I dunno, I just... I feel like shit." Then your gaze fell on your son. "H-How's my baby doing?"

Loki pressed a kiss against your forehead; the warmth against his lips radiating from your skin concerned him. "He's doing okay; only slept in about ten minutes ago." You felt how your husband wrapped a strong arm gently around your waist. "Come, darling." You didn't argue, of course, and let Loki guide you back to the bedroom.

He helped you lay down. "Stay here. I'll be right with you. I'm just going to put Narfi down and look after our princess." You nodded and curled yourself up into a ball. Loki let his eyes roam your weak and fragile body with worry on his face, before he left the bedroom again.

Carefully, the god put Narfi down; laying him inside his baby cot and making sure he was warm enough. Of course, he took the baby monitor with him, then went to check on Ella. He hadn't heard a word from her in a few hours. It didn't concern the god much, since she's been sleeping a lot in the past days; letting her body work to get the flu out of its system.

Slowly, he opened the door to her room and peeked inside. He was right. His daughter was fast asleep; curled up underneath her blanket. Soft snores left her lips, due to her stuffy nose. On tiptoes, he walked over and placed a hand on her forehead. Ella's fever was gone. Loki smiled softly. At least someone of his family was getting better.

The raven haired god leaned down and kissed her forehead as well; tucking the girl back in properly and left the room again.

Before he returned to you, he made you another cup of camomile tea and took some of your meds with him.

He found you just like he left you... Curled up on the bed. "Darling..." He stepped over and sat down on the edge of the bed. You turned to him. "I made you some tea and brought you medicine. It's time for you to take them," Loki spoke in a quiet voice; handing you the meds and the bottle of water, standing on your nightstand.

Again, you nodded and took the medicine; along of a small sip of hot tea. Loki helped you to get comfortable then; fluffing your pillow and making sure that you were comfortable. "Is that to your liking, my love? Are you comfortable?" "Y-Yes, thank you." Your husband gave you a soft smile. "Anything else you need?" Your soft, glassy Y/E/C met his. "You... Just you... Please..." You reached for his hand; his warm palm engulfing yours.

Another soft smile grazed his lips and he dipped his head to press a kiss against the skin of your hand, before he let go of you again and quickly rounded the bed to join you. Loki cuddled up against you; curled his body against yours. "Is that okay, darling?" "Mhh..." You hummed; "Perfect." closing your eyes. "Thank you for taking care of us." Loki kissed your neck. "Of course, my love. Always."

Baby Fever Crew: @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jaidenhawke @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @jennyggggrrr @multifandom-worlds @herdetectivetheorist @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @fictive-sl0th @hisredheadedgoddess28 @chennqingg @princess-ofthe-pages @brokenpoetliz @km-ffluv @huntedmusicgardenn @lokiforever @stupidthoughtsinwriting @loz-3 @jaguarthecat @icytrickster17 @eleniblue @yourfriendlyslytherinhc @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic @kimanne723 @lou12346789 @smolvenger @lokisrealpurpous @isaidoop @lokisgoodgirl @aagn360 @alexakeyloveloki @glitchquake @cakesandtom @anukulee @lady-rose-moon @ainsley30 @lovingchoices14 @lokischambermaid @irishhappiness @mandywholock1980 @totsnotlynn @loki-laufeyson223 @vbecker10 @lulubelle814

[steddieas-shegoes]

Eddie doesn’t exactly get high often, alright? He just indulges in his own supply when he’s feeling particularly stressed.

Okay, so he’s been a little fucking stressed lately. His supply is down to nothing.

And it wouldn’t be a problem, except he feels like he’s getting a cold, or a flu, or a fucking tumor. He’s been sneezing nonstop and he keeps getting hot flashes and it just doesn’t make any sense. He’s been holed up in his room for a week, not even coming out to see Wayne before he leaves for work. No way he caught something besides loneliness.

Wayne always has some Tylenol on hand, but what good does that do when he’s dying? There’s some allergy meds that Wayne always takes during the first bit of spring, but they could be expired for all Eddie knows.

So he’s dying. Alone. In his too-hot/too-cold room. No music to even soothe his soul on its way to its final resting place.

“Eds?”

Oh, now he’s hallucinating too? Great.

“Eddie!”

He turned towards his door but couldn’t find the energy to open his eyes, even when his hallucination spoke again.

“Jesus, Eddie. What the hell is going on?”

Steve was definitely not a hallucination. He was standing in Eddie’s bedroom doorway, hands on his hips, unfairly attractive scowl on his face, looking at Eddie like he was a lost cause.

He always looked at him like that when he was trying not to show he cared.

“If you don’t have drugs, leave me to die.”

Eddie turned back towards his wall and pulled the blanket over his head, regretting it the moment a drop of sweat made it’s way down his neck. He refused to let Steve see him like this. One near death experience was enough vulnerability for them.

“Wayne called and asked me to check on you. He said you were avoiding him. Any reason or you just felt the urge to see my pretty face?”

“Wayne shouldn’t have called you. I don’t know why he called you. Pretend he didn’t. Go back home. Say nice words about me at my funeral and try to mean them.”

He couldn’t see Steve, but he could feel his eye roll.

And Eddie knew he was being over dramatic. He was over dramatic more often than not. But he was having a rough week, his therapist would probably even say it was an isolation week, and now he was sick on top of it. Dramatics were his way of showing he’d survive.

“Are you sad or sick?”

“Yes.”

“Which one is worse right now?”

Eddie considered the question, considered his answer.

“Sick.”

“Stomach, head, or both?”

“Both. Everything.”

“Got a thermometer around or do I have to kiss your forehead to see if you have a fever?”

Eddie knew he was blushing. He’d never been so thankful for a comforter nearly suffocating him as he was in that moment.

“You’re not my mom no matter what the kids seem to think of you.”

“Thank god for that.”

Before Eddie could unpack whatever Steve meant by that, he felt the bed dip behind him and a hand touching his back.

“Let me check for a fever so I know what meds to get.”

Eddie hesitated. He hadn’t showered in at least three days. He was breaking out in a cold sweat. He was at his least attractive at this moment.

Letting Steve, the guy who he’d been in love with for almost a year now, see him like this? Hell no.

“Eds. Don’t make me call Wayne at work.”

Eddie sighed and pushed the blanket off of his head. He turned onto his back and glared at Steve. He ignored the fact that it took most of his energy to keep his eyes open long enough to do it.

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks, I got all dolled up just for you, sweetheart.”

If Eddie had felt better, he may have noticed how Steve blushed, but unfortunately, he had already closed his eyes again.

He felt a cool hand on his forehead and sighed, relaxing back into his pillow.

“Fuck, Eddie, you’re burning up! How long have you felt this bad?”

“I dunno. Last night.”

Eddie didn’t want the hand to leave, it felt too good against his burning skin. He shivered when he felt another cool hand on his cheek.

“I’m getting some Tylenol for the fever and I’m calling Wayne to get you flu meds on his way home. Were you just gonna dehydrate and suffer in here alone?”

“Probably.”

Eddie waited for Steve to argue, to tell him he didn’t need to hide away or pretend he was fine if he wasn’t. He’d heard it plenty from his therapist and Wayne and Dustin and even Max when she felt like being nice. But he was met with a drawn out silence that made him nervous.

He peeked an eye open to see Steve staring down at him.

“I wasn’t gonna like, let myself actually die.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“Uhhh…”

“It’s not like I wouldn’t be here. You know I can handle it. Right?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Do you not trust me to take care of you?”

Eddie opened both of his eyes to see Steve pouting. Actually pouting like a child not getting their way. Over taking care of him.

Jesus fucking Christ.

“It’s not that.”

“Then what?”

“You’re not my babysitter. I didn’t wanna bother you.”

“But I could’ve taken care of you.”

Eddie’s brain short circuited. He lost every ability to form a coherent thought.

“Eddie?”

This was too much. Steve was too much.

“Can you get me that Tylenol please?”

Eddie felt the bed adjust to Steve standing up and heard him walk to the bathroom across the hall. He took the separation as a small blessing so he could get the very few thoughts running rampant through his brain in some semblance of order.

When Steve came back with the Tylenol and a glass of water in hand, Eddie sat up in his bed.

He took the pills and chugged most of the water, ignoring the angry look Steve was shooting him.

“Thanks. You can go if you want.”

Steve, stubborn idiot that he is, didn’t go. In fact, he pushed Eddie over in bed to make room for himself.

As Steve got comfortable next to him, Eddie lay his head on Steve’s chest and splayed his arm across his stomach.

Might as well go all in if this is a hallucination.

“Just get some rest, Eds.”

Eddie let his eyes flutter closed. The last thing he remembers before slipping into his illness and medication induced sleep was a light press of lips against the top of his head.

[skyeslittlecorner]

Okay, I know it's impossible, but can you do some headcanons about the kings are sick? (like maybe because of angels or sth I dunno :'>)

Then we gotta take care of them (hohoho I fine with fluff or a little bit of smoky situation (^///^))

P/s: Sorry for any grammar mistakes TvT Btw I really enjoy your works (love it :3), so have a great day and take your time (o゜▽゜)o❤️

Thanks dear anon, and hope you have a great day too! 🧡 Them being sick is not so impossible, they are definitely lovesick lmao

We can give them some common cold, why not! That's why we have fanfics. To experiment and have fun. Even so, there are plenty of options for when they might feel unwell. Angel blood, poison, war wounds. But we'll go on the lighter side of regular flu. Sick kings times one, let's do it~

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

Satan will never acknowledge he's feeling bad. Do you want to put him to bed? Make him. Actually, making him won't be so hard because he staggers on his feet. Since you put him in bed, you are supposed to take care of him personally. His flu is a game of cat and mouse, he will feel a little better and he will come out of his room, and then he will feel bad again and you will drag him back into the bed. Preferably by the hair, and furious. He would have cooperated a little more if it weren't for the war. At this rate, you'll be curing his common cold for a month.

Mammon is team "spoil me or I will never get better". He even likes being sick, just cut out the 'feeling bad' part. He loves your concern, has all your attention, and you accumulate drugs so much that he hasn't seen such greed for a long time. It's good that you can't catch demon flu, you'll be like his mascot that he cuddles in bed all the time.

Beelzebub? Sick? Be ready for drama. He is NOT staying in bed. Don't even mention needles, he'll be gone before you finish your sentence. If you want him to stay and heal, you have to entertain him. This bastard isn't even afraid of death, what other can you expect? He's feverish, delusional and bored. It is advisable to buy toys. Looot of sex toys. And definitely try it with him.

Leviathan is impossible to decipher. When he feels worse, he will look even better. There is a joke in my university, "what you can't do, you make up for in looks", and he is embodiment of this. Once you understand that he is sick, don't tell his nobles. He's tired, all he wants is being surrounded with them buzzing like bees in a hive. Just lie down with him. Only with him. He certainly took some medicine on his own, so just be there to keep him company.

[loveshotzz]

pretend i wrote this when you were sick - pretend it's also not this long. also sorry if it looks like there are parts missing.

He's on his third call while he waits at the door in the early spring breeze, unbottoned work shirt billowing with him -- silently chastising himself for not throwing on a sweater since you told him to do it before he left. He presses the bell again, hearing it go off in the house for the second time, anxiety brewing in his chest. He'd never seen you so sick, and even though the doctor said it was just a bad flu, seeing you in bed like this made his heart pound. He wasn't sleeping, had been working from home the past few days. He'd set up shop right outside the hall of the bedroom, ignoring his office so he could hear if you called out to him -- Bandit dutifully keeping watch over you at the end of the bed. It was something he wasn't expecting to affect him like this, his thoughts getting clouded with the sound of hospital monitors and oxygen machines.

You did your best to understand and assure him you're okay -- you're just kind of a baby about being sick. Lucky for Steve, he's been loving a chance to get to baby you - despite the ache it causes to see you like this.

But the babying would start even quicker if the front door of the house he was in front of would open.

"Honey, am I gonna have to file a report? You can't just be showing up to my house -- I got a wife at home," the tease comes from a familiar smoky voice, "Do you really want her to find out about us?"

"I called three times," Steve huffs, "I said I'd only be gone for ten minutes."

"Do you really think she's counting? She's probably asleep. Plus, you're a minute man," Eddie winks, beckoning him into the house, "And if she calls you can run right home, you're around the fuck--effing corner."

"Yeah, you're around the effing corner, Big Guy," Gwen's tiny voice repeats from the island in the kitchen.

"Gwendolyn," Eddie warns. "Sorry," she whispers back, "I won' say id again."

"Thank you, doll," he smiles, "Can you ask mommy to bring the soup and meds we packed up for your aunt so we can give it to Steve?" She patters away with her light up sneakers glinting pink and purple with every step, disappearing into the house only to run back winded a few minutes later. "Mommy said you have two hands that work just fine so you can get it," she smiles, not fully understanding what she means, "And then she said to say please after. Please!"

Steve snorts, "Yeah, loser, go grab my shi--stuff."

Eddie rolls his eyes, "Whatever."

As her father leaves, Gwen climbs back up on the bar stool and looks up at Steve curiously, "So when does she get to come back over?"

"When she feels better, angel," he smiles, "Why?"

She shrugs, "I dunno, I like when she comes over 'cause then it's not just you."

His mouth gapes with a smile, "What do you mean? Am I not enough for you?"

Gwen shrugs in the way four year olds shrug when they're feeling sneaky, "She's juss funner, Big Guy." "Do you hear this?!" Steve gasps as Eddie re-enters, "She doesn't think I'm as fun."

"You haven't been playing 'Cool Barbies' with her, lately," Eddie shrugs, popping the two tote bags filled with sick day amenities on the table, "Ow, ow Lu, don't pull daddy's hair, please." "It's okay Luce, you can do whatever you want," Steve coos to the baby on Eddie's hip, grabbing the bags and putting them over his shoulder. He leans forward to kiss her only for Eddie to step away.

"Dude, not with your potential flu germs -- they're picking up enough sh--stuff at daycare," Eddie says, taking the baby's pudgy hand and waving, "Say byyyyeee Big Guy." "Bah," Lucy gurgles in her post nap haze, head resting heavily on Eddie's shoulder. "Bye, Big Guy," Gwen smiles, hugging him at the knees, "Tell Auntie-I-said-hi-and-I-miss-her-and-love-her-and-that-she-is-so-pretty-and-that-I-have-new-Barbies."

"I will tell her, thank you for the message," Steve nods, chest hammering again at the thought of you sick and bed without him. He flicks his head up at Eddie, "Tell Peach I said hi."

"Yeah, I'll tell her somethin' alright," he half grumbles, hoisting Lucy higher up on his hip. Steve blows Gwen a kiss before making it back to you in the quick trip is takes to get back to your place. He knocks softly before stepping in, hearing your soft 'hm?' that sets his whole body a buzz with affection. "I have..." he starts, opening the bags, "Two quarts of Peach's famous 'sick soup', a shit ton of orange juice, 800mg motrin, a card from Gwen, a drawing from Gwen, three new pairs of fuzzy socks, a toy for Bandit? Okay..." He lists off the rest of the care package before looking at you with a smirk, "And absolutely nothing for me." "I can gib you someding," you murmur out with a stuffed nose, "I can gib you a kiss." "Ooh, how about I give you a kiss tough girl?" he asks, chestnut hair falling into his eyes as he leans down to kiss your forehead. His lips are warms against your clammy skin, enough to soothe you back into a cozy half sleep under the covers, "How're you feelin'?" "Dired," you admit, "Bud I could really use thad soup." "Okay," he nods, "I'll heat it up for you." He gets back to the door looking back with a soft gaze on you, thinking of Lucy's face and how it looks when you hold her on your hip, how you look when you play Barbies with Gwen. How it would look when there's a baby that's the perfect blend of the two of you bouncing on your lap, when there's a baby monitor in the bedroom, when you're both complaining about germs at daycare. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it before going downstairs. Right now, babying you is just enough.

CAROL!!!! Stop 😩 I physically cannot handle this amount of yearning. What have you done to me?!? I’m still sick (it won’t go away) so this was still perfect. Of course he’s imagining getting me pregnant while taking care of me, ILL GIVE THAT OLD MAN ANYTHING HE WANTS!!

Also shout out to the number one couple here and that’s ocs!eddie and airwiy!steve. I love that the little glimpse we get of them living close to each other now and the little growth of the munson family 🥺

[chochuuya]

flu confession.

kazutora hanemiya x fem!reader

notes: classic old school fluff, shy tora (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

wc: 587

his voice is so stuffy over the phone.

“hurrgh,” kazutora groans. you can picture the scene now— him swaddled in layers of blankets, desperately trying to get over the flu. it’d be funny if it didn’t sound like he was two seconds from sneezing every time he spoke.

you call out his name and he goes, “huh?” in return. “oh, i didn’t mean to call somebody. uh, i’ll hang— achoo!”

you chuckled in response.

“poor you. get well soon, kazutora. don’t worry, i made extra notes and got you the handouts for the lessons you missed!”

“no, no, hang on,” he says, sniffling. “don’t go.”

his voice is strained, but he still sounds grateful for the time. “you don’t have better things to do? like... hang out with friends or whatever?”

“it’s 4 in the morning man..”

“yeah, uh, true.” he pauses, “what’re you doing up so late?”

“can’t sleep haha, plus it’s raining. i thought i could listen to some songs down the nostalgic lane.”

“oh, you’re a music girl, hmm?” he grins behind the screen, you can tell he likes the sound of that. “whatcha listening to?”

“not really.” you chuckled softly. “oh, right now.. don’t laugh but it's beautiful girls by sean kingston. kinda random, i know.”

hanemiya raises his eyebrows. “that’s a catchy song. i’ll be honest with you, though, most would’ve said taylor swift or... uh, i dunno, i’m running out of examples.”

he laughs, “so do you usually stay up this late all the time or is it the storm?”

you laughed along. “honestly, both.”

“yeah, i’m with ya there. the rain’s pretty relaxing, but it’s also kind of lonely.”

he pauses. “can i ask you something?”

“sure, what’s up?”

“you’re not gonna think it’s stupid?”

“let’s hear it first.”

“well…” he gulps, “do you think we’d make a good couple?” his voice is shaky but he says it anyway.

that made you sit straight up, staring at the phone in disbelief. the time keeps on running and you still couldn’t believe your own ears.

“..why would you think that, kazutora?”

“well.. i’m not sure, really. i just...”

he trails off, ‘just’ almost turning to ‘got a crush on you’.

“never mind,” he says quickly. “i’m just tired and sick. i shouldn’t say things like that.”

“i, uh.. it’s fine.” you chuckled nervously.

shoot i don’t even know what to say, you thought to yourself.

“yeah, okay.” he sniffles again. “can... uh... can you keep a secret, (y/n)?”

“of course.”

“okay. so, uh…”

there’s silence for a moment. kazutora takes a deep breath, then spills his guts. “i’m really into you.”

the boy blushes but he swore it’s just his fever acting up. “i’ve thought about it for a while, but i didn’t want to ruin anything. but we always get along and you’re really funny. and pretty.”

he clears his throat. “‘m i embarrassing myself?”

“no.. not at all, kazutora. thank you, you’re so sweet. i think you’re kinda cute too.” you let out a nervous laughter.

“wait, really?” his voice is a jumble of different emotions. surprised. happy. relieved. nervous. he doesn’t try to hide them very hard.

“are you just saying that?”

you laughed quietly at his remark. “no, i mean it.”

“oh. okay then.”

tora’s heart is about to jump out of his chest, but when did it ever listen to him before?

“so... do you want to hang out sometime?” he asks, trying to sound nonchalant. “when i’m not dying of the flu, of course.”

please do not steal, copy, translate, repost to other sites or claim my writings as your own. plagiarism is real!

so so cute (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) please do like/reblog/interact if you enjoy reading this hehe, always appreciated ♡♡

[cuddlepilefics]

Winter flu

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Seungmin

Caregivers: Stray Kids

@hurtcember 1 collapse, 5 faint

@whumpcember alt6 could you stay a little longer?

@fluff-cember

 

No one’s POV.:

Glancing at the couch, Felix furrowed his brows. Him and Seungmin had spent the first half of the day decorating their shared apartment to help them get into the Christmas spirit. Not long after they were done, Seungmin had stretched out on the couch, not even interested in having lunch first. Felix had planned to bake cookies that afternoon, making the most of their day off, but now that his friend was sleeping in the living room, he didn’t want to wake the younger.

Felix grabbed a fluffy blanket from his room and carefully covered Seungmin with it, noting how the vocalist’s brows were drawn into a frown. He didn’t look comfortable but their couch had never been the best place to rest and he’d most likely end up sore later. Felix didn’t have the heart to wake him though, so he went to play computer games in his room to grant the other as much sleep as possible. He could still bake his cookies later.

When Seungmin woke up, his body was stiff and achy, making him groan as he sat up. He turned his head a few times and rolled his shoulders in an attempt to loosen up the tight muscles but it did little to help. All it did, was make his head pound and pressed the balls of his hands against his eyes. Gulping, Seungmin figured some water would help him get his bearings. He really shouldn’t have slept on the couch because now, he felt like he had been hit by a car, which was not how he had wanted his day off to go.

Sluggishly getting to his feet, Seungmin clutched the back of the couch and panted as his heart suddenly started to race. For some reason, he felt awfully shaky all of a sudden. Water would surely make it better, right? Dragging his achy body to the kitchen, Seungmin poured himself a glass of water and almost dropped it from how badly his hands were trembling. He ended up spilling some onto himself, barely noticing it though.

“Felix?!”, Seungmin yelled, suddenly feeling lightheaded. He set the glass down and clutched the counter for support. Sliding down with his back against the kitchen cabinets, Seungmin prayed the other wasn’t wearing his headphones as he felt his consciousness slipping away. Though Felix had his headphones on, he did hear his friend’s call and rushed to the living room. It took a moment for him to find the vocalist slumped on the floor in the kitchen. Rushing over, Felix crouched next to Seungmin and gasped: “Hey, hey, you with me?” – “F-feel faint…”, the younger slurred, weakly holding his head in his hands.

“Okay, alright… lay down”, Felix rambled, helping Seungmin ease himself into a flat position, “Deep breaths.” The Aussie ran a kitchen towel under cold water and draped it across the other’s forehead. Squeezing Seungmin’s shoulder, Felix hummed: “Talk to me. Gotta know you’re still with me. What happened?” – “Dunno”, the vocalist breathed, fidgeting his hands, “’s getting better. Jus’ -jus’ don’ feel good. Gosh, my head.” – “You’re burning up”, Felix frowned as he pressed the backs of his fingers against Seungmin’s pale cheek.

When Seungmin felt a little better, Felix helped him sit back up and handed him his glass, steadying his hand so he could drink a few sips. Rubbing the vocalist’s back, Felix hummed: “Were you already feeling bad earlier or did this come out of nowhere?” Clearing his throat, Seungmin rasped: “I felt a bit off but when I woke up, everything hurt. ‘m jus’ so out of sorts.” – “That sounds like the flu to me”, the older frowned, “Do you have any other symptoms?” – “Throat”, Seungmin whispered as he handed the glass back.

With Felix’ help, Seungmin managed to get back to the couch and weakly collapsed into the cushions. Shivering, he pulled the fluffy blanket around his shoulders and sniffled: “This sucks, we only just got a day off.” – “Better now than be sick on Christmas”, Felix argued, trying to look on the bright side, “You look chilled. Want me to make some hot chocolate?” – “Don’t feel like I could stomach it right now”, the younger pouted as he curled up on the couch.

Feeling too miserable to go back to sleep, Seungmin insisted on staying in the living room because he wanted to have Felix close by. Since he didn’t need to worry about waking his friend, Felix turned on a soft Christmas playlist and started his baking. Placing a teapot and cup onto the coffee table, the Aussie whispered: “Let me know when you feel like you could handle a light meal. You’ll probably feel more like yourself once you’ve had some medicine.”

Apparently, Seungmin had drifted off because the next thing he knew was a gentle hand stroking his hair. He made a small noise at the back of his throat and the hand stilled for a moment. “I didn’t mean to wake you”, Chan whispered as he resumed petting his dongsaeng’s head, “Lixxie had invited us over to look at your guys decorations and to try some cookies. We didn’t know you were sick.” We? Seungmin blearily blinked his eyes open and winced when the light made his head pound. It dimmed significantly a moment later, the leader carefully covering his face with his hand softly calling out for someone to turn it off.

Jeongin was quick to turn off the lights and switch on the Christmas decorations instead. He felt guilty for coming over. Sure, they had been invited but that had been before Seungmin had fallen ill and the vocalist probably didn’t want the entire group over when he was feeling this bad. They had tried to keep it down but now, Seungmin had woken up anyway. Chan helped Seungmin sit up and asked: “How’re you feeling?” Rubbing his face, the younger winced: “Ugh, when did I get so stuffy?” – “Hang on, I’ll grab some tissues”, Minho smiled, handing Seungmin his tea.

Minho had joined Felix in the kitchen as soon as he learned that their dongsaeng was sick. While the Aussie finished the last batch of cookies, Minho started to prepare some jook, so it could simmer. “Here you go”, the dancer hummed, plucking a few tissues from the box and handing them to Seungmin before placing the box on the coffee table. Seungmin blew his nose and mumbled: “Thanks. When did you get here? Oh, and who all is here?” – “Group hangout”, Chan chuckled, “We only got here half an hour ago though.” – “If it gets too much, you can always kick us out. We wouldn’t want to wear you out more”, Minho added. Closing his eyes, Seungmin sniffled: “It’s nice to know you’re close by, just don’t expect too much of me.”

Assuring Seungmin that their only expectations were Felix’ cookies, Chan helped the vocalist to the bathroom. Changbin and Jisung had volunteered to grab takeout for the group, so they could focus on caring for their friend. And care, Seungmin needed. He had successfully changed his clothes after sweating through them but it had taken a lot out of him. Walking back to the living room next to Chan, Seungmin startled the leader by suddenly clutching his arm. Before the eldest could ask him what was wrong, Seungmin’s knees buckled.

Chan had managed to catch Seungmin just in time and carefully lowered him to the floor. His yell had alerted Hyunjin and Jeongin, who were by their side in an instant. Seungmin was out cold though, not even twitching when Chan patted his cheek. “What happened?”, Hyunjin frowned, kneeling next to them to feel Seunngmin’s wrist. Shaking his head, the leader muttered: “I don’t know. He reached for me and then he was out. Hey, you hear me, Minnie?” – “His pulse is really fast”, Hyunjin observed, letting go of the vocalist’s wrist to shake his arm instead.

Seungmin came to with a soft whimper. His ears were ringing and he felt his pulse thumping in his head. “Couch?”, Hyunjin asked and Chan nodded. Together, they lifted Seungmin off the floor and carried him to the living room. Jeongin grabbed a few cushions and elevated the vocalist’s legs as soon as his hyungs had placed him down. Swiping a magazine off the coffee table, Chan fanned Seungmin’s face and cooed: “You’re okay, Minnie. We got you.” – “Just stay down for a while”, Hyunjin instructed, refilling the vocalist’s cup.

While Seungmin recovered, Changbin and Jisung returned with their food and were taken aback when they learned just how bad their friend was doing. Serving the vocalist a bowl of jook, Minho informed: “You’ll feel better once you had some meds, so you gotta eat something. Doesn’t have to be much but you need something in your tummy. We’ll join you in a moment, so you won’t have to eat alone.” – “If you feel like you can stomach it, you get a cookie afterwards”, Felix piped in. Sniffling softly, Seungmin breathed: “Can you help me sit up? Feel like mush.”

Removing the cushions from under his dongsaeng’s legs, Minho propped the boy up and handed him a tissue when the shift made his nose run. Chan and Hyunjin helped Changbin and Jisung plate their food and joined the others in the living room. “Do you feel up for watching a movie?”, Jisung asked Seungmin as he settled down with his plate, “We could start the holiday season with a Christmas movie.” – “Hm, let’s see if the medicine does anything. I don’t mind just laying here while you guys watch something though”, the vocalist mumbled, “Just hearing that there’s someone around already helps a lot.”

Jeongin brought Seungmin some medicine when he had finished his jook and Felix handed him the promised cookie, rewarding him for his struggle. Seungmin contently nibbled the treat, savoring the sweet flavor before laying back down with his head in Changbin’s lap. Gently stroking his dongsaeng’s hair, the rapper hummed: “Do you need anything else? Are you comfy?”

Though Seungmin claimed to be comfortable, Felix tucked him in properly while Jisung fetched and icepack and wrapped it in a towel, so Changbin could hold it to their friend’s forehead. The cold touch soothed the headache a bit and made it easier for Seungmin to hold out till the medicine kicked in. “I made hot chocolate for everyone to go with the cookies, so if you want any instead of your tea, just let me know”, Felix whispered as he squeezed the younger’s knee. The corner of Seungmin’s lips twitched up into a faint smile and he mumbled: “Thanks. The cookie was nice but I don’t think I can handle that at the moment.” – “That’s alright”, Felix cooed, “I didn’t want you to feel like I forgot about you though.”

In the end, Seungmin didn’t even know which movie his friends watched, already feeling floaty as he relaxed into Changbin’s comforting touch. Once the medicine kicked in, he finally felt well enough to get some proper rest and ended up sleeping throughout the entire movie. Chan carried him to his room and tucked him in, not wanting him to have to walk back to his room later, afraid he’d collapse again. For a moment, Seungmin woke up and groaned when his back touched the mattress. Resting his hand on his dongsaeng’s chest, Chan shushed: “You’re okay. Go back to sleep, Minnie.” The younger shook his head though, blearily glancing up at the leader. “Could you stay a little longer, hyung?”, Seungmin breathed, weakly reaching for Chan’s hand.

Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, Chan smiled: “As long as you want me here.” He let the younger tug him into bed and lay down alongside him. “Are you cold?”, Chan asked when he felt Seungmin shiver. The vocalist nodded against his hyung’s arm and whined when the older whispered that he couldn’t have another blanket because his fever was already so high. He relaxed though when Chan rubbed his arms, generating enough warmth to soothe the chills and ease his dongsaeng back into a deep slumber.

[astranite]

Love is Stored in the Pasta

Scott, John and pasta.

This started off from a tumblr post 'cause somebody needed to cook that guy some pasta!!

Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, really very mild scott is hangrysad, ft john's space issues, Chronic Illness, as thats what im treating it as and its not the focus here he's just living with it, Scott Tracy has ADHD, this is important, Autistic John Tracy, lowkey here but also Important to me, this is fun and fluffy and i love them, i hope this is like a warm comforting bowl of pasta to you too

---

“We need to talk,” John said.

On the other side of the call, Scott’s hologram slumped over his desk, his head landing in his hands. “Oh God.”

“I found your search history…” John began.

Scott peered out sheepishly from behind his fingers. “I can explain!”

“It’s just pages and pages of pasta?” 

John was puzzled, honestly. Five to ten recipe blogs and that was Scott trying to decide what to make for dinner during a meeting or while he was struggling to concentrate on work. During lulls between callouts, he and John would sometimes debate options together. More than forty separate sites visited at 3:12pm on a Tuesday afternoon and Eos had flagged it for John, on suspicion that Scott’s computer had been hacked by a malicious entity or some other AI virus.

Scott went from double facepalm of despair to full on faceplant, his head hitting the desk with an audible thunk.

“Why so much pasta?” John questioned. Now his curiosity was piqued, he couldn’t let it go or he’d be doing EVA work later, still turning over possibilities in his mind, which wasn’t conducive to the constant concentration needed while floating around in the vacuum. Outside, any misstep would be your last.

“I dunno. I just feel like pasta,” Scott mumbled into the wood.

Scott sounded…weird. Like he was about to start laughing, or coming down with a cold.

“Scott? Are you okay?”

It had better not be another flu; corralling Scott to take care of himself was hard enough even if he wasn’t feverish. John wouldn’t be able to come down either, quarantined up in Five unless he already had it. Was the slight tug of a headache at his temples from his sinuses beginning to clog up too?

Scott hadn’t looked up yet; his shoulders were shaking. John wiggled his fingers anxiously.

“Scotty?”

Big brother’s head shot up at the nickname John so rarely used. Had John intended to provoke that reaction? The name had been a slip of the tongue but if he was was honest, he sort of had meant to jar Scott out of his thoughts. He never called Scott, Scotty unless he was scared though. And Scott not answering him did tick tick tick up his system from yellow alert into red.

“I’m fine, it’s okay. Don’t worry about me.” Scott’s words ran over each other in an attempt to come first. His voice sounded oddly wet.

Tears, yes those were indeed tears dulled by holographic format, tumbled down Scott’s cheeks.

As soon as he saw John looking, Scott turned away.

Suddenly, John landed on the spark of insight that he had a hunch would crack the code to his big brother’s distress. “Have you eaten anything all day?”

Scott dug around for tissues in a drawer of the desk and gave a half shrug. “I guess not—not really? I tried to before you say anything. Got a mouthful of breakfast in and then there was a call out. Lunch didn’t happen, there was a meeting, I had to make coffee, I ran out of time. I don’t really feel hungry though…”

That did explain a few things. It was well known family lore that Virgil and Alan got hangry, and Gords went all sad and mopey. Scott and John himself though, they got …really, unstably emotional. 

So yeah, hence the unexpected bursting into tears. John got the whole shit interoception and not even noticing if you needed to eat while you were buried in work thing; Scott was way too used to ignoring his body too. 

John took a deep breath. “Scott, and I’m one-hundred percent serious about this, do you want me to come down there and make you some pasta?”

Thunderbird Five systems whirred around John in the quiet as Scott hesitated.

“Maybe,” he whispered. “Or you don’t have to, I’ll wait, Virge’ll be doing dinner in a bit anyway.”

“Virgil won’t be up until past sunset after the hours Thunderbird Two was out yesterday and into this morning,” John said gently. “You need to eat before then.”

Nor would an overwhelmed Scott and the kitchen be a good combination at this point, and John saw the moment Scott realised this, while fidgeting with the rubix cube on his desk. 

“I want to do this for you,” John told him.

Scott dashed at his eyes, sniffled a few times and finally capitulated. “Okay. Thanks, Jay.”

John smiled and signed off, heading for the space elevator. He was usually so far away, he was right now, but it was in his power to close off that distance when he needed to and today he could use that. 

He farewelled Eos; she so often missed him but the opportunities to run the space station on her own that weren’t emergencies where he was incapacitated excited her. They showed how much he had come to trust and rely on her. Plus she got full reign of their virtual chess set.

On Earth, Scott was waiting for him as the elevator docked, his hands stuck casually in his jeans pockets but looking as pale and wobbly as John felt. His face was still tearstained.

“Hey.”

“Hey to you too.” John took a few heavy steps before throwing himself at Scott, wrapping his arms around his brother tightly, all the while careful not to knock him off balance. Scott stiffened then melted into John. 

Usually that interaction went the other way around. 

Scott used the extra height space gave John to rest his head on him without having to duck down like with everyone else. John hugged him close and comfortingly as his fingers tap tap tapped their rhythm at Scott’s shoulder. All of it meant I love you.

“Pasta time?” John said eventually.

Scott nodded silently, following when John started off towards the kitchen. The raw rock wall of the hanger was rough and vividly solid in its three dimensions, as John ran his hand along it for balance as he walked that initial part. He was touching the Earth, he was in the Earth, he was on Earth.

With cold water from the fridge dispenser and the fizzy, brightly coloured tablets shook out of their tube, John made up lidded cups of electrolyte drink for himself and Scott. John needed to be sculling the stuff perpetually to stay upright down here, and he would not be at all surprised if Scott was dehydrated too. It might to something for John’s headache, could go either way for the nausea coming on.

He put a large pot on the heat. One advantage of having a stove so high powered that it could nuke anything it touched was that any volume of water boiled fast. 

An entire packet of fettuccine got tipped into the enthusiastic cacophony of bubbles. John poked at it with a pasta scoop, regretting that he hadn’t snapped the long pieces to actually fit in better. Ah well. 

He shook in an excessive-to-anyone-not-him amount of salt with a shrug ‘cause he needed it, before having another go at separating the pasta. The pasta scoop was quite an effective implement for that, there were reasons after all it was Gordon’s favourite utensil as John remembered from previous discussions. One could also use it to mash potatoes when held vertically, if one so pleased. His second favourite was the tongs as they could be clicked like crab claws and used to pinch unsuspecting siblings. 

Scott watched from his place slumped over the kitchen bench on a stool, chewing on the ragged skin at the edge of his thumbnail. He was trying to work on a couple of screens pulled up as holomonitors, as unsuccessfully as could be expected. John came over and hopped up to sit on the bench, clipping through the projected email inbox and meeting minutes so Scott dismissed them. It was with a sigh of relief.

They smiled tiredly at each other.

The pasta! John tapped at his uniform comms watch. “Eos, set a timer for the pasta, please?” John shaved the minute that had already passed off of the box time and then another couple to ensure it wouldn’t come out mushy.

“So what sort of stuff on pasta do you feel like? There’s a good lot of options you were looking at earlier.”

“We don’t have the ingredients for most of those, I checked. No eggs and no mushrooms so no carbonara. Technically that wouldn’t be authentic carbonara though. No cream cheese. We missed this week’s supply run so we don’t even have any frozen peas!” Scott threw his hands up in the air.

“Hmmm. You feel like something creamy?”

“Yeah. Honestly at this point I’d eat anything.”

John swung his legs and tapped his fingers on the counter while he thought.

“I believe some bacon is hiding in the bottom of the freezer so that’s something. And…” he trailed of as he moved his head too fast and set off a wave of dizziness as he looked around the kitchen.

“Avocado!” Scott exclaimed.

“Avocado?”

“Funny story, we ended up with several cases of them after that rescue on that farm where we saved the whole village and nearly all their trees from catastrophic flooding. They really need eating too and there’s only so much toast you can stand.”

“I have heard theoretically of putting avo on pasta and it does sound good. Mmmm bacon and avocado, John hummed. “Worth a shot?”

Scott reached towards the fruit bowl in answer, grinning at John. “Soon we will have pasta!”

John peeled off the upper half of his uniform and tied the arms around his waist in preparation. In the subtropical summer down here he was already getting too hot and while the temperature regulation built into his suit would do its best to make up for his own body’s lack thereof, it felt weird to have everything covered up from fingertips to neck down here while he was cooking.

Scott began to giggle.

“Huh?” John said, extremely eloquently.

Scott gestured at him. 

“My suit?” Was something up with his suit? The full gloved hands and sleeves flopping about without John in them had been known to amuse the lot of them on occasion, ever since he’d used the empty suit as a phoney decoy of himself to trick Eos. It was pretty funny now no one was in mortal peril and Eos was his friend.

“Your face!” Scott exclaimed.

“What’s wrong with my face?” 

John frowned. Was it his fringe that never could survive true gravity? He hadn’t gotten freckles while he’d been down all of half an hour and inside, had he? Then he looked down.

His t-shirt had a photograph of his face printed on it, and across the chest, emblazoned in neon orange read the words ‘Space Face’, courtesy of one particular fish brother. Ah yes. That.

John sighed, resting his chin on his hand to hide the smile he couldn’t quite control. “Not exactly subtle, is it? In my defence this was the only one in my closet that was clean and you can’t exactly see it beneath my suit. It’s all Gordon’s fault anyway!”

Scott was still laughing, albeit a touch hysterically and at him, but John took it as a win regardless.

Eventually Scott grabbed himself a cutting board and knife to get to work on the avocados as John carefully slipped off the bench, steadying himself on the counter as his ankles went noodley so he could handle the bacon. 

Bacon, bacon, now where had he seen that bacon? He had the image of it in his head, but that was only one piece of the puzzle, a photograph, humanly imperfect, memory woven out of instinct. Digging about in the deep freeze which the evidence pointed to as best John could tell had his fingers feeling like he’d stuck them out in space with out gloves on. They ached sharply as John cursed his crappy circulation. 

He gladly found the bacon though, lurking at the second darkest depths. He would not be willing to venture into the midnight zone of Unidentified Frozen Objects and charred dinner leftovers put away for ‘later’. He chucked the packet into the microwave and thawed out his hands by running them under lukewarm water, wincing all the while. If he’d thought this through, if he’d been smart enough, he would’ve put his suit gloves back on—his space rated, cold proof, most definitely impervious to domestic appliances gloves— and saved himself the pain.

Scott came over to rinse his avocado green hands. He dried them off then wrapped his arms around John’s waist so he could lean on him, giving in for a moment in face of daunting gravity. With Scott, he could because Scott got him; they both could.

“You alright?” And there was big brother smotherhen coming out.

John flexed his defrosted fingers. “I will be.” He turned and smushed his face into Scott’s neck for a little bit, hugging back, Scott rested his head on John’s, and they stayed there for a while.

They were both fading. The pasta would help with that, Scott really needed to eat and so did John at this point, the half a dry bagel for breakfast and another at lunch hadn’t really been enough. The trick now was finishing the task that felt as if it expanding faster by the second than the Universe, as measured by the Hubble Constant was. They could do this though. Together.

Scott chopped up the bacon roughly and John cooked it, hissing back when it spat hot oil at him. 

When Eos notified them the timer had gone off, and John had very scientifically tested the pasta was done by nomming on a bit, he called Scott over carry the large pot to the colander in the sink to strain. 

“Gravity plus boiling water plus my space noodley arms are probably not a good combo,” he laughed. 

He was getting better at knowing his limits. Scott’s smile was small and proud, he saw John.

Scott stared at the bacon with the intensity of a starved wolf with its mouth watering, then stole some pieces hot from the pan and burnt his mouth. Scoff Tracy strikes again. 

They dumped the pasta in a big mixing bowl with the mashed avocado, a little lemon juice, the bacon, and a whole lot of salt, pepper and parmesan cheese, mixing it together with the big pasta scoop.

John swayed on his feet then, grabbing onto Scott to stay upright for long enough to decide actually the best place for him right now was sitting on the kitchen floor just here. John folded himself down to the ground in a slithering pile of too long, too bendy limbs, Scott wordlessly guiding his descent. 

“You want me to grab some sporks to eat with?”

“They’re splayds, technically,” John remarked. He gave Scott the thumbs up anyway, while he rested his spinning head on his knees.

Scott waved about his ‘sporks’ acquired from the cutlery draw with a victorious grin before he sunk to the ground to join John.

John took one, passing the pasta to Scott once he was settled, lanky legs stretched out for miles, bumping into John’s.

“We forgot plates,” Scott said.

John shrugged. “At this point, who cares. We have pasta.”

“We do.” Scott blinked for a moment. “I didn’t before and I wouldn’t’ve but now we do.”

He hugged the warm pasta bowl to his chest, and when John observed more closely he saw the tears collecting on Scott’s eyelashes, sparkling in the kitchen light as he looked up at John.

“Thanks. I love you so much, Jay.”

John gave him a gentle smile, ducking to knock his forehead against his brother’s shoulder like a cat. “Love is stored in the pasta.”

Scott smiled back at him and they both dug in.

It was good pasta.

Really good pasta, because he was here with Scott and through everything they had made it, together.

[ellenhghg]

Head cannons For ff7 boys...ZAAAAAAACK (above all) for when they're super sick, puking...literally can't keep water down? Fever? I dunno just sick as heck.

They're favorite comfort or care routine to receive from their lovers?

Thank you for your request!! ♥ ♥ Took me a bit because of busy days. But! I have some headcanons + a drabble. I hope you like it! ^^

Super sick Zack Fair headcanons + drabble

♡‧₊˚ Zack is usually the epitome of health and energy, so when he’s hit by an illness that knocks him off his feet, it’s a pretty big deal. He doesn’t get sick often, but when he does, it’s a mess. ♡‧₊˚ At first, Zack tries to play it off like he’s totally fine—he’ll be stumbling around, barely able to keep his eyes open, insisting he’s still up for a sparring match or a mission. But it’s obvious to anyone looking that he’s not okay. ♡‧₊˚ When Zack finally accepts that he’s down for the count, he completely gives in to it. He’s suddenly the biggest baby in the world—pouty, clingy, and constantly asking for reassurance. “Babe, am I dying? Be honest. Cough, it’s bad, isn’t it?” ♡‧₊˚ Zack gets really whiny when he’s nauseous. He hates throwing up, and he’ll do anything to avoid it, even if it means curling up on the bathroom floor for hours. He’ll beg you for anything that might help, even if it’s just holding his hand or rubbing his back while he’s miserable. ♡‧₊˚ Zack is the type to tearfully ask "Do you still love me even though I'm all gross?" And of course you have to shower him with reassurance and affection. ♡‧₊˚ Zack's favorite comfort routine when he's sick is having his lover, you, run your fingers through his hair and massage his scalp. It's the one thing that can soothe him to sleep. ♡‧₊˚ He's a sucker for a good old-fashioned cold compress on his forehead. He'll sigh dramatically and proclaim that your healing touch is the only thing keeping him alive.

♡‧₊˚ Soup is an absolute must. But not just any soup - he wants your special homemade soup made just for him. With extra noodles. ♡‧₊˚ Don't even think of suggesting medicine. Zack will avoid it like a plague. You will have to gently insist it will make him feel better. While petting his head of course.

Zack groans miserably, huddled under a mound of blankets. His face is flushed with fever, dark spikes of hair plastered to his forehead with sweat.

"Nngh… (y/n)? 'Zat you?" He croaks, one bleary eye cracking open. "I think I'm dyin' here…"

You smile fondly, perching on the edge of the bed. Reaching out, you brush Zack's bangs back, fingers lingering on his overheated skin.

"You're not dying, you big baby," you tease gently, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple. "It's just the flu. You'll be back on your feet in no time."

Zack whines pitifully, nuzzling into your touch. "Doesn't feel like 'just the flu'… Feels like a herd of chocobos ran me over, then backed up for round two."

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Well, that's what happens when you insist on training in the rain, mister SOLDIER. Even your mako-enhanced immune system has its limits."

Zack pouts, but there's a sparkle of mischief in his glassy eyes. "Aw, c'mon babe… You know I gotta keep in shape! Gotta make sure these guns are locked and loaded, in case you need a big, strong hero to sweep you off your feet…"

He tries to flex, but the motion turns into a coughing fit, his whole body shaking with the force of it. You rub his back soothingly, waiting for the spasms to subside.

"Alright, Casanova, that's enough flirting for one day," you scold lightly, helping him settle back against the pillows. "What you need now is rest, fluids, and plenty of TLC."

Zack's face brightens at that, a hopeful grin tugging at his chapped lips. "TLC, huh? I like the sound of that…"

He waggles his eyebrows, or tries to - it comes out more like a drunken wobble, his coordination shot by the fever. You snort, flicking his nose gently.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Fair. I meant chicken soup and cuddles, not… whatever your fevered brain is cooking up."

Zack sighs dramatically, but there's a content gleam in his eyes as he snuggles into your side. "I suppose that'll do… for now. But once I'm better, you'd better be ready, babe. The Zack Attack waits for no one!"

You roll your eyes, but can't quite suppress the grin tugging at your lips. Wrapping your arms around your silly, wonderful boyfriend, you press a kiss to his sweaty brow.

"I'll hold you to that, hero. Now get some sleep - I'll be right here when you wake up."

Zack hums happily, already drifting off in your embrace. Even sick as a dog, he still manages to make your heart flutter with his irrepressible spirit and zest for life.

[inmyminditsreal]

You're sweeter than cough syrup

Sick!reader x spencer reid

Word count: 573

Summary: You're sick at home, and Spencer takes care of you despite you being stubborn

Fluff!!

You’re lying in bed, feeling horrible, and wishing Spencer was there. You can't believe that you have a cold. Sniffling your way through the hours and watching some dumb reality TV show. Spencer went out to get you things, and It has only been 15 minutes since he left. Suddenly, Spencer calls out to you,

“Hey sweetheart, are you still in bed?”

You groan, “Mmm-yea.” and realize how hoarse your voice is.

“Oh honey- you look so sick.” He says, walking into the room.

You grumble back, “It's almost like I am.”

“I brought you some soup, also flowers, even if you can’t smell them - and snacks.” He says while smiling.

He places the things down, walks up and plants a soft kiss on your forehead. You smile, then respond,

“I love you so so much but- what's all this for? What's your angle..?”

You melt at the thought of him going to the store and buying you your favorite snacks, but you know he has some tricks up his sleeve.

“Well…I have some medicine. Nothing bad, just NyQuil.”

“No way,” You reply. You hate the taste of NyQuil, he knows that.

He opens the wrapper, lays down next to you, and holds the poison up to your mouth.

“No no no. It’s going to take more than this to get me to drink that.”

He scoffs, “Oh come on, you know Nyquil Cold and Flu is a combination medication containing acetaminophen, dextromethorphan, and doxylamine Dextromethorphan is a cough suppressant. It affects the cough reflex in the brain that triggers coughing. Doxylamine is an antihistamine that reduces the effects of the natural chemical histamine in the body. Histamine can produce symptoms of sneezing, itching, watery eyes, and runny nose.”

“How on earth does that help me?” You reply, secretly impressed.

He whispers, “ It doesn’t but, what do you want, hmm? Anything.”

“I dunno.” You respond.

“How about..this,” He says softly before placing a soft kiss on your lips. “is that enough?”

You turn your head away and pout, “Nope!”

He puts the medicine down and says “Hmm, what about….this,” He says while cupping your cheeks and peppering kisses all over your face and down your neck.

You fight away your smile but eventually say, “Fine, that worked.”

He picks up the cough syrup and gently holds your chin. You swallow the syrup and shake your head in disgust. He sits down in the bed next to you and wraps his arms around you.

You lay your head on his shoulder. You grab some chocolate and start eating.

“You really didn’t have to do all this, you know. You're just lucky you're sweeter than cough syrup.” you say.

“I know but the thought of you here all alone, sick. I hate it. I love you way too much to allow that.” He replies and snuggles into you. You move your head from his shoulder down to his chest and wrap your arms around him.

“You’re so cute, especially when you’re sick.” He mutters.

“No way, I look like a zombie.” You say back.

“What? No way. You look beautiful.”

“Well if you say so, you look cute too.” You smile back

He chuckles, lifts your hand and kisses it softly.

“Get some rest, you really need it.” He says.

“Yeah yeah okay, Love you.” You whisper.

You were already half asleep but him hugging you tighter sent you instantly into sleep.

You’re honestly glad you got sick.

[thetomorrowshow]

Whumptober 24 - Radiation Posioning

title: all days come down to one clear pane

fandom: hermitcraft

cw: hospital setting, possibly terminal illness

~

“Well, hey there, Bdubs,” Beef greets cheerfully, tightening the ties on his apron. “Here for another round of TCG?”

Bdubs doesn’t respond right away. He stares at Beef for a long moment, standing several feet away, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Hey, Beef?” he says eventually.

There’s something . . . something not quite right about the look in Bdubs’s big eyes. A dull, unfocused quality, like he isn’t all there.

“Yeah?”

“Did we eat something funny, last night?” asks Bdubs. “Because I’ve been feeling . . . not good.”

The NHO had grabbed dinner together the night before, and while it had been fairly cheap, greasy food, Beef’s been feeling all right. Out of all of them, Bdubs has one of the strongest stomachs. It would be weird for him to have a reaction, out of all of them.

“How so?”

Bdubs’s dull eyes dart from right to left. “I threw up,” he says. “Twice.”

Beef hums. “Well, I’ve been feeling fine. Did you ask Etho and Doc?”

“No.”

“Are you feeling sick any other way?”

Bdubs considers that question, his head tilting slightly to the side. “I’m . . . my body hurts,” he says, after a moment of consideration. “Like, aches. Is that normal?”

“It sounds like it could be a flu,” Beef says, taking a subtle step back. “Maybe you should go lie down.”

“I just had the flu a couple weeks ago,” Bdubs argues. “I feel . . . I dunno. I haven’t been feeling great all day, I’ve been kind of sick, but I was okay last night—”

His words speed up, voice louder and louder as he speaks, and one hand snakes out of his pocket and up to his hair, where it starts pulling. Beef grimaces—they’ve been trying to break Bdubs of his hair-pulling habit for years, but it always creeps back. Before he can mention it, though, his hand comes away.

With a tuft of hair.

Bdubs—

He wasn’t pulling too hard, was he? He just kind of pulled a little bit. He shouldn’t have been able to pull out a whole tuft of his own hair, like a dog blowing out its coat.

Bdubs doesn’t seem to notice. He lets the hair fall to the ground, runs his hand over his head. There’s some other thin patches, Beef notices, and that worries him just as much as the bandage wrapped around Bdubs’s hand.

Why is it bandaged?

“—been weird,” Bdubs says, “and I don’t like it.”

“Why don’t you lie down,” Beef suggests again. He forces his voice to be as calm as possible. He doesn’t want to freak out Bdubs, as strangely as he’s acting. “You can use my bed. I’ll bring you something to drink, okay?”

Bdubs frowns, but nods his agreement. He heads off in the direction of Beef’s bed, his bandaged hand still buried in his hair.

Beef watches him go for a moment, then pulls out his communicator.

There’s something very, very wrong about Bdubs. He’s going to need some help.

-

“When did this start?” Doc asks, examining Bdubs’s hand.

It looks bad. It looks really bad, from Beef’s point of view.

His left hand, now bereft of wrappings, doesn’t quite look like a hand. Well, it’s the right shape and everything, but his skin is just . . . wrong. Peeled-away and reddened, the fresh skin under the peeled back of his hand bubbly with blisters. The skin around the patch is discolored, several shades lighter than Bdubs’s usual pigment.

Bdubs shrugs. “I dunno. Um, it’s been kinda getting worse all week.”

“And you didn’t say something?” Doc says, shocked.

“I thought it would get better!”

“Goodness, Bdubs,” Xisuma says. “You can’t dig into a radiation site and expect to just get better.”

“When did you first enter the site, again?”

Bdubs’s face scrunches up; his eyes still hold that glassy look to them. “Um . . . two weeks ago? I haven’t been back since, promise.”

Two weeks ago.

Beef doesn’t know much about radiation poisoning, but if Bdubs made contact with it two weeks ago, how is it that only now he’s realized something’s wrong?

“We’ll have to take him off-world,” Xisuma’s murmuring. “Get him a proper doctor.”

Doc, usually quite defensive of his doctorate, doesn’t argue. He just drags a suitcase out from under Bdubs’s bed and cracks it open, dumping out whatever he finds within. Then he takes it over to Bdubs’s wardrobe, starts throwing random articles of clothing into it.

“I’ll come with,” Beef volunteers, and Xisuma nods gratefully toward him.

Then, because Beef is not just going to come with for the day, he leaves as well, donning a pair of elytra and flying back to his own base.

By the way Doc was packing, he thought that this was going to be a long stay.

Beef will stay with him. And then he’ll bring Bdubs home, and everything will be okay.

-

Bdubs gets sick on day two of his hospital stay.

The staff hadn’t quite known what to do with him—they’d never had a patient with ARS, and they’d had to call in a specialist from another world. That specialist had taken one look at the hospital room—Bdubs on the bed, Beef sitting beside him, Doc pressed against the window and Xisuma taking the forefront—and had immediately ushered them all out.

“His immune system is destroyed right now,” she’d scolded, sending them to the room next door to don protective gowns and masks and gloves. “We can’t risk him getting sick.”

Bdubs had watched them go, uncharacteristically quiet.

The doctor was right. His immune system was destroyed. He wakes up with a chest cough on the second day, and by that afternoon his temperature has climbed to feverish heights.

Beef doesn’t know what to do. He isn’t sick—he quarantined for twenty-four hours and tested negative for every illness in the book, just to be able to sit with Bdubs. He’d expected it to be pretty chill—maybe he could get some drawing done, talk with his friend about any remaining plans for what was left of the season.

Now he sits further away than he would have liked, over in the seat by the window, watching as Bdubs’s chest rises and falls weakly under his hospital gown.

They’re going to intubate him soon if he doesn’t start getting more oxygen. Whatever this bug is has ravaged his lungs in the brief time he’s been ill with it, making his body even weaker and more susceptible to the radiation devastating his cells from the inside.

He doesn’t even look like himself. Bdubs’s hair is more patchy than before, what remains limp and unbrushed. His face is scruffy, bags under his eyes oily, his closed eyes fluttering now and then. The hospital gown fits loosely around him, his entire collarbone showing in an unwelcome display of vulnerability. His right arm is hooked up to a pouch of fluids and pain medication, the occasional click from the IV stand breaking the silence.

He doesn’t look a thing like how Bdubs is supposed to look. It’s like the life has been drained out of him as steadily as the IV drips into his bloodstream.

“Zedaph’s going to be jealous,” Beef says after a long moment, trying anything to make the scene less wrong.

The only sign that Bdubs has heard him is a tiny cough.

“I think he was, like, looking for radiation. And you found it on accident. He’ll probably do a Zedvancement on you when you get back.”

That gets a huff of a laugh. Bdubs doesn’t open his eyes.

Beef bites his lip. “Doing any better than this morning?”

Bdubs’s throat works. “A bit,” he rasps, voice barely there. This triggers a couple more coughs, his frame shaking.

They’re probably going to intubate him. They don’t want to, afraid that he’ll struggle to get off oxygen if they put him on it, but this is only the first day of illness and they’re already discussing it. Unless he gets better overnight, Bdubs is going to end up with a tube down his throat.

He looks so weak.

They’ve determined that he came in contact with the radioactive material about twenty-five days ago. He’s moving out of what they called the ‘latent period’, and the loss of hair means that he’s had higher exposure than they would have liked.

They said that his chance of survival is around 50%.

That is way, way too low. Probably lower with the illness that he’s caught. Beef sat in the window seat for about an hour as Bdubs napped and calculated possible percentages—with a mean of 50, if one assumed that each illness was one standard deviation below the mean, and say the standard deviation was 12—maybe even bigger—

Well, with that model, Bdubs’s chance of survival is 38%.

And with each passing hour, Beef can’t help but think that Bdubs’s score gets lower and lower.

-

They do end up intubating him. It helps him get through the cold that’s ravaging his system, but he’s too weak to get off supplemental oxygen afterwards. Beef is the only Hermit allowed to visit, and only dressed to the nines in PPE.

“You’ll be back in business in no time,” Scar says over a video call. Scar in particular is banned from visiting, even just to drop something off. “You’ve been lotioning your nose? That cannula will give you nosebleeds like nothing before!”

“Yeah,” Bdubs manages. “And then they don’t stop bleeding.”

His blood isn’t clotting very well. He’s had three nosebleeds so far, and every one of them has been an emergency.

The specialist doesn’t say it, but if he keeps bleeding, Bdubs’s chances of survival will keep dropping.

“When are you coming back?” asks Scar. Bdubs shrugs. His arm is getting tired of holding up the communicator, Beef can tell.

“Dunno. When the radiation runs out. And then I have to do . . . more things.”

“Bone marrow transfusions, blood transfusions,” Beef calls. He hears Scar make a humming sound.

“Sounds fun.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, if you need anything, let us know, okay? I’ve still got some cookies around somewhere—”

“Not Elven Surprise—”

“Oh, no, no, no, that probably wouldn’t be very nice at all! But I’ll see what I can do.”

Bdubs nods, clearly worn out, and Beef stands, taking the communicator from him and leaving the room.

He glances back into the room as he closes the door. Bdubs’s eyes are already closed, his head slumped on his shoulder.

Once he’s in the hall, Beef looks down at the screen. Scar’s face is staring up at him, naked concern painted all over it.

“He doesn’t look so good,” Scar says.

Beef shrugs. “He’s right on track for recovery.”

It’s what he’s told everybody who tried to come visit, or called. He told Ren that the doctor said it’ll be a long time, but he should be okay. He told Etho that they put him on oxygen as a caution, not a necesity. He told Doc that Bdubs spent all afternoon chattering about his next build.

He smiled and lied through his teeth to everyone, and he can and will do it again.

But Scar sighs. “I can take the truth, Beef.”

And Beef breaks down.

“He couldn’t afford to get sick,” he chokes out, his throat suddenly thick, tears already spilling from his eyes. “I—sorry, man, I don’t usually—but—before he got sick, he only had, like, a fifty percent chance—and now it’s worse—”

“Hey, hey. It’s okay.”

“He might not make it,” Beef says, ugly and raw and heartbreaking. “I don’t know what—I don’t know what to tell everyone, it shouldn’t be me here, it should be Etho or Pungence or—”

“Nobody could do it better than you,” Scar tells him. “You’ve got this, dude. We’re all here for you.”

Logically, Beef knows that’s true.

But he’s the only one here. He only sees the others briefly, when they stop by to drop off food or clothes—and even then, he doesn’t talk to them. He sees them from the opposite end of the hallway (he sometimes helps Bdubs into a wheelchair and pushes him to the door of his room just to wave at their friends, at Ren and Pearl and Xisuma or whoever else stopped by) or waves to them from the window, and that’s it.

“What do I do?” he whispers after a long moment. He grabs a tissue from the nearby nurse’s station (and the nurse gives him a sympathetic half-smile), uses it to dab at his eyes.

“Just keep trying, man. I know Bdubs appreciates it. We all do.” Scar sighs, an edge of laughter to the sound. “If I could hug you right now, I would.”

Beef chuckles wetly. “Then I’d have to put on all new plastic. Thanks, but no thanks.”

Scar smiles. “Yeah. An imaginary one, then.”

Even imaginary, Beef supposes, Scar hugs are the best.

-

“You’ll pull through,” Beef whispers, Bdubs’s limp hand held in his own.

He doesn’t know if he’s talking to his friend or to himself.

Bdubs has barely been conscious for the past three days. Beef has ignored every buzz of his communicator since he first took a turn for the worse, ever since he came down with another fever.

“We’ve already done two months. We can’t just give up now.”

He’s been awake for going on forty-eight hours now, but he can’t sleep.

He can’t leave Bdubs.

He doesn’t get that choice, though, as just a half hour later, Bdubs’s heart monitor starts beeping incessantly, and then there’s people flooding the room and Beef is escorted out.

Then he sits on the tile floor of the hallway and sobs into his knees.

-

Intubation doesn’t look good on Bdubs a second time.

-

Every single day is a fight.

Beef starts being honest with Xisuma, trusting him to spread the word around Hermitcraft. Bdubs isn’t doing well, but the doctors are hopeful. He got sick again. They have to take treatment slower. He’s off oxygen during the day. He’s back on it. He can’t keep food down. He was able to take a short walk today. He loves the potted plant. His scans aren’t looking good. They’re adjusting the treatment plan. He wants pictures of everyone’s builds. He slept all day. He still can’t keep food down. They’re bringing in a therapist to talk to them both.

It’s after the last message that Xisuma again suggests they take turns staying with Bdubs. Beef is resistant to the idea at first, but Bdubs’s doctor says it would be fine with proper PPE, so he relents.

He doesn’t really sleep, the nights he spends away. It isn’t right to be on Hermitcraft, his bedroom devoid of the clicking of the IV and the clunking of the heart monitor.

“We’ve got it,” Xisuma reassures him. “Rest.”

But Beef can’t do anything without thinking of Bdubs and how he isn’t here, so he continues to assume the main responsibility of being there for him, through the ups and downs and fights that follow.

Right up to the end.

-

“That’s the last one?”

Those are the first words out of Bdubs’s mouth when he wakes up, mumbled and half-formed, his eyes not even quite open.

“The last round of conditioning,” Beef reassures him, squeezing his arm. “Then you have the transplant next week.”

“Then we go home.”

“Then we stay a couple more weeks to make sure it works.”

“And then.” “And then we go home, yep.”

A smile quirks Bdubs’s lips. “I miss it.”

“I know, bud.”

It’s been eight months.

Eight of the most touch-and-go, harrowing months that Beef has ever endured.

“You can keep sleeping,” Beef says, releasing his grip to just pat Bdubs’s arm. “Etho’s not taking my place for another couple hours.”

It’s almost over. Just the bone marrow transplant, then an observation period, then home. Six months of recovery from the radiation poisoning, then two months of conditioning to prepare his body to receive the bone marrow transplant.

Then now.

Then home.

The doctor had been nothing short of jubilant when it became clear that Bdubs was going to pull through. She had repeatedly told Bdubs how proud she was, how he withstood the odds and came out on the other side.

It was a 25% chance of survival, in the most dire moments. Despite a couple of scares early on, everything went as well as could be hoped for—the medication, the skin graft, the conditioning. It was terrifying, and still is (there are still far too many things that can go wrong), but Beef doesn’t shoulder the weight of it alone anymore. Over the past months, every other Hermit (bar Scar) has sat with Bdubs for at least a day. When no one could take his place, they brought him food and games and called to share stories.

Beef just sat with his friend whenever he could, as he had from day one.

Just as he is now, his hand still resting on Bdubs’s arm.

Beef smiles.

Bdubs, already asleep, snores.

Just a few more weeks. Then home.

[f3maled0g]

“What’s eating you?”

Edmund Pevensie x Fem!Reader

Warnings - We live in a society, allusions to sex, innuendos.

Summary - Gurl I dunno.

A/N: Don’t repost, re-blogs are absolutely fine

—————

“Pevensie!”

There you appeared with a moonshine induced stagger. One could have sworn Edmund Pevensie’s eyes shone. He quickly assumed his original demeanour. Cold and unbothered, although now with a certain lightness to his shoulders. All the while, you made your boisterous trek to his spot, sporting a lopsided grin.

“Hello,” you sung, albeit badly.

He released an audible humph.

“Geez, something crawl up your trousers, old boy?”

“Okay.” Edmund raised a brow. Then, another.

You paused, maintaining deadly serious eye contact as if about to divulge the most sordid goss.

“What’s eating you?”

“Excuse me?”

“The phrase,” you jabbed at an explanation. “What’s bothering you?”

“In what world are you from where they use that euphemism?”

“Give a girl a break, concern is the most honourable gift I’ve ever bestowed upon anyone,” you returned a salute.

He scanned your hopeful countenance with a critical eye and took a generous swig of brown from a suddenly procured flask in his hand. Ed sighs, his thoughts muffled by the wild clamour of teenagers coupled with the cantankerous ambience that parties generally possessed without fail.

“So,” you inhaled, teetering on the edge of a conversation doomed for death. “Wanna get out of here?”

His lips twitched with a growing smile at the sight of your determined look in his periphery, more than prepared to bolt at the door. Not that you ever noticed the subtle glances, after all, stoicism was his magnum opus while yours ignorant bliss.

“Suit yourself,” you concluded with a shrug and waltzed out the exit and Edmund felt obligated to follow, legs mechanically willing themselves in your direction. Someone had to look out for you.

Just when he thought he’d lost you, Edmund found you leaning against the stout wood of an old oak. You bathed in the staple warmth of summer air, skin set aglow by the moonlight streaming through cracks of the foliage.

“You know, it’s considered rude to stare.” You whispered with closed eyes, conscious of his burning scrutiny.

He lingered at a comfortable distance from you, enraptured by your surreal tranquillity. Your eyes fluttered open, the reflection of the moon evident in your dilated pupils. He drew closer, your presence willing him to motion, like a magnet, until he was close enough to hear the rhythmic pattern of your breath.

The proximity was agonising, enticingly so. Your tangibility rushed him into a confused frenzy. He wanted to touch you. Worship the deity that you were. Longing nagged at him. How was it you were so close yet out of reach? It was aggravating. You were aggravating and this puzzle could only be solved in one way.

You looked at him through your lashes, a haziness dancing across your face. “What’s eating you, Pevensie?”

What passed in the moment was a blur.

Edmund stood before you, obscuring the view of the moon. You tilted your head, the bare slope of your neck appeared so inviting. It took everything to restrain himself. To maintain his resolve. But if you would just ask nicely, sweetly. Edmund’s heart would yield.

Your stare was a siren call to him. Beckoning and beckoning. It seemed his heart was not the only appendage at your beck and call. Edmund’s hands had a mind of their own and commanded forward. You bristled, the grip snaking around your waist shook your guard.

“Is this o-”

“Yes,” you gasped, much like a fish out of water.

Edmund chuckled, “You didn’t even let me finish, love.”

“In the biblical sense, I just might if you got on with it already.”

Seriously, you were rushing this? He pictured this a little differently, wanting to take his time with the pretty thing before him and explore the contours of your soul. After all, not only was Edmund Pevensie a fighter but a lover too.

Impatient hands latched onto his shirt collar, willing him forward and flush against you. The contact stirred something deep within your lower belly, something reserved only for him. He kissed you hard, then pulled away, noses nudging each other’s. You smiled, baring your teeth with closed eyes.

“Y/N,” Edmund breathed, “Look at me.”

“Hmm?”

“I like you, alright?”

“Alright. I like you too.”

Resolve broken.

You laughed heartily. “So, why don’t you just get it over with, buddy boy?”

“Buddy boy, huh?” He pulled away, extending a hand to pull you from the mighty oak. “You really are something.”

“Thanks a bunch, Eds,” you scoffed, jutting your tongue out. “Not only am I aroused, but aroused and disappointed.”

You turned to leave but Edmund stopped you.

“Listen, it’s not that. I just-”

“Are you a virgin?” you deadpanned, “Is that what this is?”

Edmund pouted, wounded. You raised two brows.

Ignoring the blow to his ego, he pressed on, “I just want to take my time with you, is all.”

Oh. You warmed from the explanation.

“So, that’s what’s been bothering you.”

You approached again and this time planted a kiss on his cheek, his face unusually ruddy from the affection.

“Well, at least let me take you home?” he suggested.

“I do have a curfew.”

“So, about the sex…” you began, looping an arm around his.

Edmund rolled his eyes, “Name the date.”

[idontplaytrack]

Bottle You Up

K.C. Cooper x fem! reader

Warnings: fluff, some coarse language

In which reader is down with the flu and K.C. takes care of her.

I gave up on this halfway but I got mad at myself for that and wanted to finish it somehow 💀

KC🩵: Hey, babe. Are you up? I’m about to leave for school. [delivered 7:10a.m.]

KC🩵: Want me to pick you up? [delivered 7:14a.m.]

You hear your phone buzzing on the nightstand, but you felt too out of it to pick it up to check it.

KC🩵: I’m worried. [delivered 7:18a.m.]

KC🩵: Is everything okay? [delivered 7:18a.m.]

Groaning, you blindly reached for the device and squinted to look at the screen. Sighing when you realised who it was, you still responded to the texts anyway. Otherwise she’ll never stop texting and you’ll never be able to go back to sleep.

y/n: All good, just feeling a little under the weather. Have a gd day at sch love u

Tossing your phone aside, you wrapped yourself under the covers tightly, feeling a chill. After way too much tossing and turning, you finally got comfortable enough to fall back asleep and allow your body to rest. You weren’t sure hoe much time has gone by but you did wake up to someone yelling at you from the front door.

“y/l/n! Yo! You can’t must text me that the. expect me to do nothing?!”

It was K.C.. You fell out of bed, forcing yourself to get up and peek through your window. Evidently, she spots you looking and gestured for you to come and get the door to let her in. Groaning with each step you took, you eventually reached the door and pulled it open. “Finally.” She sighs, entering your house.

“What’s the matter with you? Why won’t you just tell me what was bothering you?”

“What?” You asked shakily, finding her words a little harsher than usual.

“You just text me that you were feeling under the weather, then what? You were expecting me to leave you alone? Not a chance.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Well, right now, you look like death.”

“Good, ‘cause I feel like it.” You grumbled, trudging over to the couch and collapsing onto it. She walks over to you and felt your forehead, “Let me guess— you didn’t take any meds for it?”

You didn’t even respond. So, she just went ahead and to grab you the meds from the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, along with a glass of water. “Take this, I’ll go make you some soup.”

You swallowed harshly at her mention of food, reaching out to take the pill and glass. “No.” You murmured, holding the pull in your mouth meanwhile. “What do you mean, no? It’s one o’clock in the afternoon. You need to eat something.”

You swallowed the pill then said, “No.”

“Babe.” She sighs, taking the glass from you and set it down on the coffee table.

“You don’t get it.” You choked on a sob, “My head hurts so bad I feel like I might throw up even if I just move the slightest bit.”

K.C.’s gaze softened as she held your hands in her own, “I’m sorry, love. I’m sorry, I was just so worried because we weren’t hearing from you at all. I’m sorry, I just need to calm…down. What can I do to make you feel better?”

You shrug, sniffling. “I dunno.” You laid your head in her lap, “Sorry. I should’ve…”

“No, no. Don’t apologise for that. You’re not feeling well, you did the right thing by resting up.” She says, her fingers started combing through your knotted hair, “Close your eyes and just rest.”

“I feel like shit.” You muttered.

“The trashcan’s right beside us. And I’m right here, alright? Don’t worry.” She promised.

With her palm on your stomach, the warmth soothes the ache, allowing you a bit more rest while waiting for the pill to take effect. “You’re alright, love. You’re alright.” She coaxed, watching you doze off under her comforting touch.

Your sleep didn’t last too long however, since you were hit with a pang of nausea the moment your eyes opened up again. K.C. gets the trashcan to you right away, allowing you to spill the contents of your stomach into it. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. Just let it out, don’t think about anything else, don’t look at it.”

Completely exhausted and freezing all you could do was listen to her talking to you. She got rid of whatever was in the trash can then returned to your side. She sees you curled up in the fetal position on the couch under your blanket. “Still cold?”

You nodded, mumbling unclearly.

“I’ll turn the heat up a little.” She does and then came back so you could snuggle with her.

“I didn’t want to bother you.” You told her.

“You’re not. Don’t ever think that you are bothering me, alright?” She says.

“Don’t get too close though.”

“Too late, I don’t get sick that easy anyway.” She grins, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “You know, sometimes I wish I could just bottle you up and keep you safe in my pocket.”

You giggle, “What?”

“Yeah, you know? After fighting bad guys with my family for so many years, this world is freaking terrifying. And you’re my girlfriend, I would love to be able to protect you from all the bad things.”

“Aw, that’s sweet.” You cracked a smile.

She mirrors your smile, “I’m serious, though. Wish I could protect you from everything bad. It just sucks to see you sick and I can’t really do anything about it.”

“I know, I appreciate the thought but you can’t really do that.” You chuckled lightly.

“One can dream, right?” K.C. shrugs, laughing as she held onto your hand and gave it a squeeze.

“You can also give me cuddles.” You looked up at her with a cheeky gaze.

“That I can do.” K.C. nodded, “I see the meds have kicked in. That’s good.”

“They have indeed.” You traced your fingers all over the back of her hand mindlessly.

“I’m glad.”

[cabinofimagines]

Start Chat

It is time for the holidays this year! This time we got some special flavour that we invented ourself >:-)

-Asnyox

Start chat

The Le-Gou-Lash Bash

Magnus

How’s everyone? This gc kinda died two weeks into November.

Will

The gc isn’t as dead as you are, Magnus. Besides we got a bunch of flu cases here at camp (curse the Nosoi).

Will

Magnus

That’s no-soi nice to say. Whatever those things are. 

Next time you see me you better be prepared to suffer, Chase.

nvm

Nico just laughed, you can take this one

Jason

Nico laughed and I wasn’t there to see it? Unbelievable

Will

Well if you weren’t hanging around CJ all the time- I can’t blame you tbh it’s probably a lot less hectic than here

Jason

Yeah CJ is pretty quiet, but there’s no fun though. Talked to Leo last week nd apparently I am missing “all the holiday events that matter”

Magnus

Sounds rough, I know there’s going to be a bunch of holiday stuff at Valhalla

Jason

How big is the chance that it will spark joy?

Magnus

It will spark something for sure, I do not want to join sleighing to the death 101 this year

Jason

SLEIGHING?? I’ve never done that

Magnus

Will

sleighing to the death??? What?

Too bad I kinda hate going to these events 

unless…

Hey, you all think we could swap places?

Magnus I need to go sleighing it will put me one up to Leo

Jason

Like people wouldn’t notice? We le-goulashed them up at halloween anyways

Will

I volunteer as tribute to go to CJ

Finally some rest

Magnus

Dunno what CJ is but uuh that means I should go to your place, Will?

Will

Ye, I will tell Nico about it and make sure u don’t get forced into infirmary duty. 

Magnus

Oh I can heal if needed uuh is Percy going to be there

Need to make sure that I don’t tell him Klaus isn’t Santa or whatever right

Will

I am not sure where percy is, last time I saw him he seemed busy

Will

Jason

IM GOING SLEIGHING!!! oh but Will can you make sure the bobs are okay

bobs? as in haircuts?

Jason 

No, I got a few friends all named bob at CJ. Just let them know where i’m at that should be good. 

Magnus

Will

okay…? 

I have no chores for you Grace just stay away from sharp objects, and uh… if you see an animal hanging out in my room don’t kill it or kick it out that’s Alex.

Jason

You mean the girl that was terrorizing us for halloween? i have to share room with her??

Magnus

It’s actually a yearly thing? the whole terrorizing strangers— well you know what, forget it I tell Alex myself, don’t worry. Also do NOT pet the giant squirrel, he can and will make you cry

Jason

Got it! Kinda. You guys are weird but then again my best friend dresses up his bronze dragon depending on the holidays and forces me to pose in the pictures with him so idk why i act surprised

Will

Nico says he needs to see the pictures, for research

Jason

Nico isn’t allowed to see them until he sends me one SMILING

Will

Nico says he’ll hack your phone when you’re not looking

Magnus

Just told Alex n’ friends, Jason, make sure you bring a whole bag of chocolate so the doorman doesn’t kick you outta my floor and also what do you mean he’s got a dragon

Jason

There’s one at Camp Half-blood too so don’t worry, anyway gotta go pack!!! sweaters and socks!!

Will

You made a child very happy today, Chase

Magnus

He’s like ten years older than me

Will

Mentally the romans are **fuzzy static noise**

Magnus

Am I supposed to know what that means

Will

Don’t worry about it, I’m the one spending my holidays there, I’ll probably be bored out of my mind, unless the bobs are like a really good group of country music, but I doubt it— Sigh.

End chat.

Magnus

Good luck soldier

I gotta go get clothes for hot weather, i guess

[snowbaamgyu]

Helloooooo!!! So I don’t know if you already saw it but there was a MOA talking about how she unexpectedly met TXT at the airport and everyone was so nice and the members were so handsome she was super excited blah blah blah.. but she mentioned that while soobin, taehyun, yeonjun and huening had brought something to eat, beomgyu wasn't eating anything, soooo maybe you could write something about it like he caught a really bad flu the day before the trip or something and he was feeling dizzy and had a fever and throwing up a lot on the plane. Also if you want you can write the POV of the MOA that saw them 🫢 like “I was constantly watching them and noticed how soobin was taking beomgyu’s temperature and Kai was rubbing his stomach” idk something like that.. I just saw it and I immediately thought about all this, what do you think? 😊

Here it is!! I'm sorry it took so long, I hope you like it. (sorry I didn't come up with a good title)[also sorry that I didn't write for the "throwing up on the plane part" I finished writing it and didn't realize you wanted that 😭]

Up and down

"Hyung, do we have some medicine?"

Beomgyu asked Soobin as he approached the kitchen cabinet that contained medicines and vitamins, though he didn't know what medicine in specific he was searching.

"We do have, but what's wrong? what kind of medicine do you need?" Soobin was having some midday snack, they were all preparing their luggage for their trip the next day, it was still pretty early but better that than rush everything.

"Dunno. I don't feel well" Beomgyu was pouting, telling the truth. He felt off but didn't exactly know what's going on with his body.

"Maybe you're just tired or nervous, go lay down for a while and when lunch's ready I'll wake you, okay?" Soobin patted his head as he left his plate on the sink. Beomgyu did as told, he was indeed exhausted but he didn't do anything to feel like that at that hour of the morning.

He felt sleep slowly getting into him, and within a few minutes he was back in dreamland.

But those dreams were wrong, some bizarre images went through his head, everything felt too real but at the same time didn't make any sense; it was all a mixture of reality and dreams (or nightmares at that point), it was getting hard to breathe, everything felt so suffocating and the next second— a hand was shaking him awake.

"Beomgyu-ah, hey, what's wrong?" Soobin again, Beomgyu's chest hurt as he tried to breathe in order to calm himself down, his stomach was making some weird noises but not out of hunger, nausea was making its way too, bile rising through his throat but quickly being swallowed back down, a burning feeling as if he was being cooked alive, and– the final touch of that damn discomfort cocktail was: a dizzying headache.

Now he did know what was wrong and in what specific order.

"Gyu, breath with me please? it was just a bad dream, everything's fine, at count of three you'll follow my breathing okay? one... two... three... again, one... two... three..." they repeated that until Beomgyu could breathe normally again, he looked at Soobin with teary eyes.

"Hyung, I really don't feel good" Beomgyu drew his knees to his chest and rested his head there, Soobin just hummed. "I know, I think you have a fever, are you hurting somewhere else?"

Beomgyu nodded, "my head hurts, I'm dizzy and my stomach feels off" Soobin winced at that, they had a trip scheduled for tomorrow, they've known about it for a month now, but unfortunately Beomgyu fell sick right the day before it.

"You have to take some meds, but you need to eat at least something, and then tomorrow you can sleep on the plane too, you just have to make it through the check in at the airport" Beomgyu nodded a bit, just wanting to take something to feel better.

"Come and eat at least a little bit alright? then you can rest all day" it was true, Beomgyu had his luggage ready when he started noticing the odd feeling.

They both made their way to the kitchen where the rest of the boys were already sat and waiting for the two of them to start serving the food.

"Are you okay Beoms?" Yeonjun noticed his pale complexion and how quiet he was, of course he wasn't that happy tiny ball full of energy all the time, but he wasn't that quiet either. Said boy shook his head "no" and everyone looked at him.

"He's coming down with something so he's feeling a bit sick, hopefully it isn't that bad" Soobin was the one to answer, giving Beomgyu a pat on his back.

They continued their meal while Beomgyu slowly stopped eating, going even more pale, sweat gathering on his forehead. With a shaky hand clasped on his mouth he muttered a low "sorry" when he got up from the table and sprinted to the bathroom, locking the door and kneeling in front of the toilet, the food he just tried to keep down came back up, obviously totally undigested, burning his throat came another wave, for the third one it came with a choke and a coughing attack.

"Gyu, everything okay?" Yeonjun knocked on the door while everyone else cleaned up the table.

The younger responded with a weak "No..." and brought up more vomit.

"Soobin went to get you some medicine, Kai got your bed ready with a trashcan near, when you're done go to your room okay? Just if you need me I'll stay right here outside." And Yeonjun did what he said, standing there for almost half an hour when he heard the toilet finally being flushed and the faucet being turned on, then Beomgyu opened the door and looked even worse than before, Yeonjun was the one who caught him in his arms when the sick boy tried to let go of the grasp he had on the door.

"Hey, let's get you to bed alright? You can sleep this off the whole afternoon and night, tomorrow you'll be feeling better" the older reassured him, keeping an arm around his shoulder, if said arm was in touch with his sweaty frame then Yeonjun didn't mind.

When Beomgyu laid back down he immediately curled up into a ball, the fever messing with his body temperature, he was almost melting down but inside he felt all cold.

"Soobin got you some medicine, take this pill and try to sleep okay?" Yeonjun also didn't mind combing his fingers through his sweaty hair and helping Beomgyu with the glass of water when his shaky hands almost dropped it.

Yeonjun left his side when he was sure the younger was asleep, the rest of the group gathered in the living room.

"What do we do? He can't just skip this schedule, is so important!" Taehyun said with a worried tone, "I know, but we can't force him and the company also can't force him, he needs rest, not getting into a plane" Soobin was the one to answer, "I'll call our manager to see if we can do something, but it's most likely he'll have to come with us, get some IV on the hotel and rest a bit there".

The leader put the speaker on when their manager answered, they explained the situation as best as they could, the manager was also concerned but as they expected, Beomgyu had to go with them.

"Tomorrow's morning I'll get him to the clinic real quick, make him get some fluids and meds, then I'll drop him at your dorm so the car can get you boys to the airport, that's all I can do".

Okay, at least that calmed them down a bit, so they settled with that.

Beomgyu slept until midnight, when he woke up to drink some water, he still felt bad but not as bad as he did earlier, the headache was still there, tha nausea was gone but his stomach still hurt a bit, not to mention his fever went down for the time being. Maybe, just maybe, he could power through their trip.

A couple hours later his manager was shaking him awake, making Beomgyu once again notice his discomfort in full force. "Kiddo, wake up we have to go to get you checked up", Beomgyu opened one eye and everything began spinning again when he stood up, his manager helping him to put on some shoes, a hoodie, a mask, and hop into the car, not even bothering to change his pajamas or wash his face, feeling too sick for all that.

"How are you holding up?" as the ride went on, the manager asked after watching Beomgyu through the rear mirror, the boy looking pale, sweaty, with his eyes closed but after he opened at the sound of the other's voice he noticed his eyes were unfocused and hazy, probably the sleep or a new fever.

"Not about to die but hoping I do so, everything aches and spins" Beomgyu answered as he closed his eyes once again, some minutes later they arrived to the clinic and Beomgyu had to wake up again. He couldn't remember anything or focus, only answering when the doctor listed some possible symptoms he may have been experiencing and when he guessed right he just said a low "yes" and dissociated once again.

The doctor told him to lay down for a physical exam, aka touching his abdomen to rule out something that might need a surgery like appendicitis, sure after the ride Beomgyu was feeling a bit nauseated but after the doctor pressed certain spot he jumped with a gag, titling his head to the side and dry heaving, the doctor quickly put a container under his chin and another retch just brought up the water he had in the middle of the night.

After the incident Beomgyu fell asleep when he laid back down, the doctor explaining to the manager that he needed rest, it wasn't that big of a deal but after a bag of IV he could go on the trip.

A couple of hours later Beomgyu woke up, a nurse was putting a band aid where the needle was on his hand, his manager noticing he was awake went to his side and put a hand on his hair as if he were a puppy "How are you feeling Beomgyu-ah?" the latter just blinked twice and answered "Better than last night, but still not that good" his manager winced a bit, "You're still up for the trip? We can put up a statement saying that you're sick and couldn't make it" Beomgyu just shook his head no, he wanted to go, he really wanted to, so he would do anything in order for him to be with his members.

When he returned to the dorms everyone was waiting in the living room with their luggage, immediately they all looked up to him and smiled seeing him there, still a bit pale but he seemed well.

"How are you feeling Gyu? Are you feeling better?" Soobin asked as he reached for him, hugging him lightly. "Yes, I'm feeling better now, I slept well at the clinic" everyone smiled a bit, relieved that Beomgyu was doing okay.

"Alright, Beomgyu go grab your luggage and everyone please go ahead to the parking lot, the van is there."

They were halfway to the airport when Beomgyu started feeling a bit queasy again, luckily the van stopped at a gas station where the boys got food and water, not being able to stay there for long they took their food containers to the van and planned to eat at the airport, Beomgyu just grabbed a bottle of water and took small sips and deep breaths, not wanting to be so focused on the smell of food that lingered in the air, he was so relieved when they stopped at the airport. He was wearing a mask, Soobin and Taehyun too, the only ones without a mask were Yeonjun and Kai, so no one suspected Beomgyu was sick.

They moved without problems, not any crazy fans were there, they passed through the check in and went to the seats as they waited for their flight to call them, everyone started eating but Beomgyu just looked away, Kai placed a hand on his stomach and started rubbing it lightly, Beomgyu closed his eyes. Soobin reached for his forehead when he finished his meal, Beomgyu's forehead was a bit warm but not at an alarming rate. He didn't notice a moa who happened to be there as well, noticing that Beomgyu was the only one who wasn't eating and was rubbing his stomach, said moa connected the dots and aside from being excited to be able to see them so close, was also kinda worried about Beomgyu, but if he was sick then Hybe would put up a statement right?

Some minutes passed and they got up looking where was their plane, they didn't film a vlog this time, Beomgyu was thankful for that, he was ready to sleep through all the flight and hoped he felt better when they arrived.

The ride from the airport to their hotel was horrible, Beomgyu was still queasy but as they arrived to their hotel he went to sleep some more, and also Soobin went to his room to give him some medicines and explaining quickly their functions. Their first day there was for rest so the members would take turns to hang out with Beomgyu and take care of him when he felt nauseous or had to throw up, Yeonjun had to rub his back, Taehyun had to call the hotel cleaning service once when he couldn't make it, Kai rubbed his tummy as Beomgy had his head on the maknae's shoulder, Soobin once again making sure he took all his medicines on time and they also got him to eat something light, happy when his stomach didn't react in a bad way.

The next day Beomgyu was feeling better, the queasiness went away and his fever was gone as well, he took it with calm on the rehearsals for the concert but at the time the actual concert started he felt completely fine and gave an amazing performance as if nothing had happened, all with the help of his members.