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kisskissbanggang · 4 years

Text

What You Don’t Know pt. 2

[15Min Read/4.3K Words - College Au - Jisung x Female Reader - NSFW/Smut, 2/3 Plot - Femdom, Dom/Sub, Finding Kinks, Hair Pulling, Handcuffs, Drinking Buddies, Bad Communication Skills, Past Relationships, Friends to Lovers(?)]

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Lectures with Professor Brown were never boring once you started fooling around with Jisung. It used to be that your mind would wander, getting distracted while the old man droned on, but now this was the highlight of your day — and it was all because of his TA. You drummed your pen against your notebook, catching Jisung’s eye as he handed back papers. He gave you the smallest hint of a knowing smile when he handed you yours. You immediately flipped through it to review and you caught your prize: a little note stuck to the back of the front page that simply said see me.

Maybe what you did with Jisung after class could be considered his “office hours.” Everyone knew full well that Professor Brown liked to go for an afternoon walk after class to the soccer field and have a late lunch when the weather was nice, but you were privy to the exclusive information that it also meant Jisung was all alone in his little workspace just outside the professor’s office. And now you were both all alone, with Jisung’s face obediently buried between your thighs under his own desk while he worked to make you cum. You’d been experimenting with restraints lately, and at this moment Jisung’s hands were currently cuffed to his chair you’d helped yourself to, the restraints digging into his skin and leaving the cutest marks.

You wove your fingers into Jisung’s hair and tugged, trying hard to keep you both quiet in the narrow hallway connecting the lecture hall to all the offices of the professors who shared it. Jisung whined, his cuffs clattering against the metal arms of the chair as you clicked up the intensity on the little vibrating egg you’d strapped to his erection. He knew there was one rule today during your little game: don’t cum before you do. Sometimes the rules were different. Sometimes he couldn’t cum until you said so, or within a time limit, or there was the time you made him wait three days and he actually cried — but today the rule was to just hold out until you finished. And if he did he would get a treat.

Lucky for him, Jisung was dangerously close to his goal, even if he was still desperately rutting his hips against nothing, trying to get reprieve of any kind from the stimulation on his dick. Still, his quick tongue never faltered, and you bit hard into your knuckle as you finally came, your thighs squeezing on Jisung as your climax coursed through you. You heaved out a content sigh as you came down, but you were mindful to be sympathetic to his beleaguered whimpers. Jisung was thankful as you unfastened his cuffs and got up so you could manhandle him back into his chair at his desk. You watched him wait, patient and good as you cuffed only one wrist again. He was cute with his pants around his ankles, his feet drawn together pigeon-toed before you pried his knees apart so you could kneel between them.

“Do you want to cum?” You simpered as you finally regained your breath, and Jisung incoherently babbled as you grabbed the base of his cock. “Words, sweet boy,” you reminded him as you firmly massaged his length.

“Yes, ma’am,” Jisung gasped, nodding desperately as you took your time unstrapping the vibrator from his cock, “I really want to cum. Can I please cum?”

“You think I should let you?” You teased. Jisung’s free hand was dutifully clutched around the arm of the chair simply because you hadn’t directed him otherwise. You flicked your tongue over the head of his rigid cock in your massaging grip, making him tense and curl his knees up a little before you pinched his leg, silently reminding him to sit still.

“Please, ma’am, please let me,” Jisung begged, “I’ve been good, please let me, ma’am, I’m so close.”

“You are?” You playfully questioned him, making Jisung whimper and whine even more. He was at the point where he was trembling now, which was quickly becoming your favorite thing about teasing him.

“Come on, come on, come on,” Jisung pleaded. His knee still bounced erratically no matter how much he tried to keep still.

“Fine,” you shrugged with a grin, “cum.”

“Oh, fuck—” Jisung choked out with a shiver as he suddenly did what he was told and came, right as you wrapped your lips around his cock. You hungrily swallowed down the hot load on your tongue, mostly to relish in how Jisung cried out as you would not let off his exhausted cock until he begged.

Still, you took your time helping Jisung come back down to earth when you’d had your fun. You gently unlocked the handcuffs still connecting him to the chair and massaged his wrist a little, even cracking the joint between Jisung’s thumb and his wrist that tended to lock up when he was tense. Jisung watched, dazed eyes heavily lidded as you softly kissed his palms and returned them to his lap. You stood now to stretch your knees back out after you pulled your jeans back on, stroking your sweet boy’s hair back from his forehead. He reflexively leaned forward, resting against your hip as he caught his breath. His hand absently ran up the back of your leg and you gently pushed him off as he reached the top of your thigh. While you loved those fleeting touches in the moment, you were starting to cross the threshold back into the real world.

“That was really good,” Jisung panted with a tired laugh, “but what now? Do you want to go get coffee or something?”

You couldn’t hold back your grin as you brushed your fingers back through Jisung’s hair and down to tip up his chin. He looked up at you, eyes shining as you dotingly used your sleeve to swipe at some of your juices still on his lip.

That’s what was so nice about Jisung. He always bounced back, even if he needed a minute first, or even if he needed twenty minutes in your arms watching animal videos. He was always mindful of you. He was attentive in the best ways. Most of all, though, he kept everything easy. It was easy to lay in Jisung’s bed like you found yourself later that afternoon, legs tangled together as you browsed on your phone and he played his guitar. It was easy to order coffee because you both liked iced americanos. It was easy to go shopping or study together because he knew when to make suggestions and when to take them. Most of all, though, it was easy to do this because Jisung didn’t put any pressure on you to put any label on this other than friendship, and the boys didn’t know your little secret. At least, you were sure they didn’t. Felix did clear the room whenever you came over, but you were thinking it had more to do with how their shared bedroom in the old house was small enough that anyone else in there would make it stuffy and unbearable fairly quick. Minho was regularly waggling his eyebrows at you, but he also managed to keep his nose in his own business on principle, and that just contributed to how easy this was. The rest of the boys really didn’t give any signs of knowing whatsoever, and that kept the status quo to your liking. You didn’t hold hands, you didn’t kiss outside of sex, and you didn’t stay the night. There wasn’t any confusion. This was easy.

You had somehow ended up reclining with your head on Jisung’s thigh when your phone buzzed, notifying you that your food had been delivered downstairs. The plan had originally been to go get some takeout, but the prospect of just hanging out inside was so much more enticing. You nudged Jisung’s knee as he lazily strummed his guitar, a hobby of his that you couldn’t let yourself get too invested in. Getting interested in Jisung’s playing meant it wouldn’t be long before you wondered if he ever thought of you while he played.

“Go get the food,” you playfully whined. Jisung pinched your earlobe until you swatted him off.

“You jerk,” he accused, “was that an order?”

“Go get the food, please.”

“Not in a million years,” Jisung shook his head, “I’m still distraught over telling the barista ‘You, too,’ when she told me to enjoy my coffee.”

“Fine, your majesty,” you dramatically conceded as you slid off the bed and jogged down the stairs. The doorknob rattled right as you reached for it, startling you. You sighed out a laugh as Chan opened the door, your food in hand.

“Met the delivery guy,” he grinned, “I hope you tipped him.”

“You’re back early,” you observed thoughtfully. Normally Chan wouldn’t be expected for another few hours.

“Oh, should I leave and come back at my usual time?” Chris quipped and made to step back out the door. “I can just take this with me.”

“No no!” You exclaimed with a giggle as you wrestled the bag of food out of his hands. Chan dropped his work bag on the couch and followed you into the kitchen as you grabbed some utensils. He hung out at the doorway of the kitchen, taking a drink from his hefty metal water bottle while he watched you grab a couple beers out of the fridge. You rifled through the drawers for a bottle opener, grumbling as all you kept coming up with was an inordinate amount of bottle caps. Chan walked up, careful not to sneak up behind you and wordlessly stretching out a hand and offering to open the drinks for you. He capped his water bottle, took one beer from you, and wedged the cap under the lip of the metal vessel to snap off the bottle cap. You were impressed as he repeated the maneuver with the other beer. He proudly smiled and took a drink of it himself, coughing out a laugh as you punched his arm. “That wasn’t for you, you pig!”

“It’s my fee!” Chan snickered while he set down the bottle and retrieved a new beer to open it for you. “How’ve you been?”

“Good,” you smiled. “Just hanging out with Jisung upstairs. What’re you going to do with all this extra time in your day?”

“Not sure yet,” Chan shrugged before he brightened up, apparently having an idea. “You want to hang out when you’re done hanging out with Jisung? We haven’t gone out in forever, just the two of us.”

“You don’t mean tonight, do you?” You asked curiously. “We’re all heading out to karaoke once Min gets off work and Changbin gets out of his late class, remember?”

“That was today?” Chan asked in bewilderment. “What day is it?”

“Thursday,” you smirked as you patted his shoulder. “You’re coming out, right?”

“Of course!” Chan assured you. “I could use some company and a nice time. But we should hang out one of these days.”

“For sure,” you grinned, picking up your bottles and food and heading back up the creaky staircase to Jisung’s room.

Later that evening, Jisung sat across from you at your table at the karaoke bar. Thankfully, you agreed that always sitting next to each other was weird, and this way Minho could gossip in your ear under the noise or the bar and make fun of other patrons as usual. Right now, however, he had his sights firmly set on making you miserable.

“Jisung looks cute tonight,” Minho spoke in your ear, “did you pick out that hat for him?”

“I did,” you nodded as you sipped your beer, “what about it?”

Jisung perked up. “What? I heard my name.”

“I was admiring your hat,” Minho grinned his Cheshire grin.

“Oh. Thanks!” Jisung nodded and raised his glass in acknowledgment before going back to flicking through his phone. The others were up by the stage, cheering on Changbin as he’d had just enough drinks to start singing ballads. Minho, however, stayed right by your side.

“You’ve been hanging out together a lot lately. Something I should know?”

“Nope,” you shook your head emphatically. “We just like hanging out together.”

“Gotcha,” Minho nodded in ardent understanding. “So Jisung won’t care if I just—“ You jolted as Minho boldly wrapped an arm around your shoulder and leaned in, challenging you with his eyebrow raised.

“Nuh-uh,” you replied coolly, “because we just like hanging out together.”

Jisung caught your eye, raising his own eyebrow and putting his face back in his phone. As Minho continued to tease and bother you, talking right in your ear as he held you close, Jisung kept his nose in his screen. Finally, a commotion approached as the boys came to the table.

Chan grabbed your hand to pull you away. “You’ve just been watching all night! Come sing with me.”

“I’m waiting on some food,” you made a quick excuse, and Minho knew it. Before he could out you, you put his glass back in his hand and pushed it to his mouth. “Besides, Minho’s been wanting to join you!”

Minho choked on his beer as he was about to call you out, but you clutched his face in both hands and held him still so you could plant a sloppy, wet kiss on his cheek and wish him luck. Predictably, Minho was so grossed out by the gesture that he instantly relinquished you, and the boys quickly extracted him from his chair and herded him towards the stage. Chan nearly stayed behind, but Minho reached back, snatching his sleeve and pulling him along.

You found yourself alone with Jisung at the table, feeling weirdly similar to the first night you’d really met. Jisung sighed, got up, and grabbed your empty glasses to get a new round without saying a word. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, playing with the damp cardboard coaster in front of you as you waited. What was with the weird look Jisung gave you? Minho played with you like that all the time. Out of all your friends, you were most physically “affectionate” with him, except for maybe Chan back when he wasn’t always working. As for Chan, what was with the weird looks he’d been giving you, too? He didn’t look any more stressed or tired than usual. In fact, Chan looked great. He actually changed clothes to come out, ditching his necktie and oxfords for his much comfier preference of a dark hoodie and some sneakers. It almost made you wistful, remembering going out for junk food when he first got his shitty car, or staying up late together and helping him with his graduation projects. But in the end he landed a great job, and he found a great house to rent with his friends. Maybe he worked too much, but that wasn’t much of a problem. The only problem right now was the weird look he was giving you tonight. Honestly, you were more than likely overthinking it. Chan was always too busy, even when you first met and you had to make excuses to hang out while studying. He was probably just feeling cooped up at work and feeling a little wistful himself.

Jisung cleared his throat as he set a fresh beer in front of you. For once in his life, he looked thoroughly annoyed. You tugged on his sleeve, which he promptly pulled away.

“What’s up with you?”

“It’s nothing,” Jisung shook his head. He put on a good smile until you sighed as he sat back down. Thinking playfully, you kicked up a foot onto his chair from under the table, landing right between his legs and barely resting against his crotch.

“Tell me what’s up,” you tried again, now as you teasingly tapped the sole of your shoe against him. Jisung covered up his full shiver by pretending to crack his neck.

“Fine,” he sighed, “you’re not as quiet as you think you are. What’s up with you and Minho?”

“Gross,” you laughed, “me and Minho? There’s nothing up with us. He was giving me a hard time because you and I hang out so much.”

“Right. About that.” Jisung took a deep breath and exhaled hard through his nose. A thud reverberated through you where your heart sank. You knew that look. You nearly pulled your foot away, but he held onto your ankle. “I haven’t asked yet, but what exactly are we? We don’t hold hands, we don’t kiss outside of… well, you know. You’re having a good time, right?”

“Me? Of course,” you nodded emphatically. “This is great, and that’s why I haven’t wanted to name this. Isn’t this fun?”

“Of course it’s fun,” Jisung nodded as well. “Is that why you haven’t wanted to tell the guys?”

“Well, yeah,” you admitted, “we’re always in each other’s business. I know for a fact Seungmin has a crush on the girl working in the student cafe because I’ve seen him there six times in the last three days. Changbin is desperately trying not to fail two of his classes while juggling his internship so he can graduate on time. Jeongin didn’t make the tennis team because he slept in because he was up studying the night before. Everyone knows everyone’s business, and you and I… it’s between you and I.”

“Can you and I be You and I, then?” Jisung asked suddenly. “It can still be between us.”

“Why do you want to?” You asked defensively. The thought of opening up like that with Jisung was terrifying, honestly. You hadn’t been in a “real” relationship in ages, and the closest you’d gotten since then was whatever three ring circus you and Chan had going on, and look where that had gotten you. This was easy. It needed to stay easy.

“Uh,” Jisung floundered. For some reason, he didn’t seem to predict needing to explain himself. Nevertheless he sat up straight, his hand still on your ankle as he played with your shoelaces. “I want to because I really like you,” he said with determination. “You’re pretty and you’re a great friend and you’re fun to be around. When we fool around I still want to hang out after. I want to hang out with you all the time, actually.”

Your face heated up tremendously at Jisung’s words, but it made you want to back up, not come closer. He looked like he meant it and you recoiled at the thought. You wanted Jisung, you wanted him like crazy, but you had so much on your mind. Graduation was coming up, work was work, and the lease on your apartment was ending in the summer. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to move after graduation. Choosing to stick by Jisung just sounded like it would complicate everything, and that wasn’t even taking feelings into account. This wasn’t even to say how satisfying fooling around with Jisung was. It was mutually attentive, mutually gratifying, and easy. He loved the way you were in charge and you loved being in charge. But who would be in charge in a relationship? Being together would complicate things, more likely than not.

“I—“ you stammered, eyes glued to the foam on top of your beer. “I need to think about it.”

“Maybe I should’ve found that out before we started doing this on a regular basis,” Jisung sighed while shaking his head. He gently pushed your foot off his chair and got up, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets before he walked out.

For the first time since you met, Jisung left you on Read that night when you texted to see if he got home alright. The next morning in class, he refused to make eye contact with you as you turned in your latest draft with his suggestions in it, and you didn’t catch him anywhere on campus the rest of the day. The weekend didn’t look any more promising. It was driving you mad, sitting around your apartment and noticing Jisung clearly be online and elsewhere, clearly hanging out around Minho when you called him while you were taking a bath.

“Hey.”

“Have you seen Jisung?”

“Have I seen — What, do you want to-? No? — Yeah, I’ve seen him. He’s just busy.”

He was just openly avoiding you and it made you furious. It made you upset at how much you wanted him. It made you miss him and how nice it was to be around him. Most of all, though, it made you want to get his attention, see if any effort would catch his eye and open up an avenue to hash out some of these inconvenient feelings between you.

You felt petty as you regarded the dress you’d picked out on Monday. It was cute, something simple and short, but undeniably flattering. You tried to think of when you last wore the little skater dress, and marveled at the realization it had to have been ages ago, back when you were trying to catch someone else’s eye. Something had invariably changed since then, because you certainly didn’t have the patience for this as often anymore, but you felt invigorated as you sat down and put on a full face of makeup. Jisung already thought you were pretty without it, so maybe this would push him to make his opinions known. Maybe it could even make you express some of your own.

He certainly seemed to be considering something as he stared at you in class, apparent even from where he sat at the front of the lecture hall. You expected a sneaky text message, or maybe an IM, but in the end he got you in the one place that really let you know how he felt. He returned the drafts that had been turned in on Friday, and you flipped through the stack that had been passed down the aisle to find yours. Staring back at you was a litany of red pen brutalizing your draft, and a sticky note attached to the front of your bibliography. See me.

You waited for the lecture hall to empty and for Professor Brown to clear out before you gingerly opened the door at the front of the room. Jisung was slouched into his chair at the end of the hall, arms folded across his chest and looking clearly agitated. You took a deep breath as you approached him and set your bag down beside his desk, pumping yourself up to be open.

“So,” you carefully began, “was my paper always bad or were you just blowing off steam?”

“Blowing off steam,” Jisung admitted, eyes downcast as he kept finding himself staring at the hems of your knee socks.

“I do want you, I hope you know,” you explained, almost challenging yourself as much as you were challenging him. “I want you so much.”

“I know that much at least,” Jisung placated, and he finally slid his chair back from his desk to face you. You nodded seriously, taking the opportunity to reach for his hand on the armrest. His hand was warm in yours but he remained wary.

“I know you know,” you confirmed, and you stepped closer until you were standing between his knees. His fingers absently toyed with your socks, and you took the opportunity to sit on his lap. Jisung froze at the sudden gesture, and even more so as you affectionately stroked his hair away from his forehead. The feelings swirling around your head refused to come out, but damn it if he didn’t look so cute trying to focus. “I’ve missed you all weekend. Did you miss me?”

“Maybe I did,” he shrugged in an attempt to look nonchalant, trying not to intrepidly bounce his knee as you led his hand to the top of your socks. Regrettably, playing around seemed leagues easier than talking now.

“Did you think about me?” You prodded. The rapid beat of your heart eased as Jisung seemed to start melting his icy facade and he nodded again. Your chest welled with the force of your stroked ego; you’d successfully changed the subject and bought a fast track to forgiveness.

“Maybe I did,” he repeated, but his wandering eyes gave him away.

“Come on,” you pouted, “tell me.” Jisung bit at his lip before you shifted around, now straddling him in his chair, and his eyes widened as you wordlessly implored him.

“Why should I?” He struggled out, especially as you subtly rolled your hips against his. Jisung seemed to have finally wised up to your impulse, but now you wanted it, and you would try to get it.

“Because I thought about you,” you smiled softly, glad to be having a grip on the situation again. “I thought about you every night, and I was so lonely without you.”

“Right,” Jisung scoffed now, shaking all his temptation off and disgruntled as he herded you off his lap. “You know what? Prove it. Come out with me tonight. The guys will be there, but that’s exactly what you want, right? You want you and I to be a little secret?”

“Jisung,” you bristled, “you and I haven’t even agreed to be You and I.”

Jisung impatiently folded his arms. “Say no or come out with me tonight. Stop trying to fuck your way out of this if you actually care about me. This can be our little secret, but I won’t be your little power trip.”

You folded your arms as well, matching him in frustration as you considered what Jisung was proposing. If you went out with him that night, he might push you to confront some feelings you really didn’t want to. If you didn’t go out with him that night, however, you could see your friendship quickly dissolving. “Fine,” you huffed. “I’ll be at the bar tonight.”

What a terrible idea.

#kprosenet #kwritersworldnet #sub!idol #stray kids fanfiction #han jisung #actual chipmunk loverboy han jisung 🤧

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stomachflu · 5 years

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hey, remember like a year ago when i was like “maybe i’ll write a second part to the story of how lynn and reed met if i feel like it?” well i’ve been struggling with

and i thought that i’d write something Just For Me to get me back in the swing of things.

VERY long stomach flu-oriented fic (planning for another few parts! this isn’t the last one!!), very self indulgent. warnings for mentions of scat, but nothing explicit. hope yall enjoy!

---

Lynn groaned as she felt her phone buzz in her back pocket, every muscle in her body aching as she twisted to grab it. It was nearly too much effort to switch the too-bright screen on, let alone read the message with watery eyes. The first one was, apparently, from an hour ago.

>Reed: hey did u make it back home ok

>Reed: lynn

>Reed: are you ok

Lynn closed her eyes, resting her head against the cool metal side of the bathroom stall. She’d traded numbers with Reed after they’d walked her to the clinic before heading to class, where she’d promised to text them that she was okay prior to receiving an official diagnosis of “godawful stomach flu” with the proposed cure of “wait it out, if you can’t keep water down after a few hours then come back for an IV“.

>Lynn: not rly

Her head swam and her hands were shaking, making it hard to compose a message. Reed was already typing a response to her last text.

>Lynn: my roommate’s apparently a germophobe? and she wont let me into the room unless I’m not gonna puke

>Lynn: so ive just been like camping out in the lounge & now I'm like chilling in the bathroom

>Lynn: not great but

She leaned back, exhaling shakily as the stall swam around her. Fuck. She was pretty sure that her fever was increasing as she leaned back over the toilet seat, holding her hair back with both hands as she gagged softly, opaque saliva falling from her lips. She couldn’t bring anything up still, despite the constant sloshing of her stomach being an ever-present reminder of how much there still was in there. When the wave of nausea finally passed, she had two new texts.

>Reed: >:o!

>Reed: youre in the new dorm right

>Lynn: whats up

>Reed: ok I know i’m just some rando you met today but if you wanna crash on my couch or smth its gotta be more comfy than the lounge at 4am

>Reed: i promise i’m not a serial killer tho

Lynn groaned as she stood up, limping out of the bathroom and ignoring the disgusted looks of girls at the sinks -- she’d been gagging in that stall for at least twenty minutes -- only to find that some other couple had sat down on the couch she’d planned to sleep on. There were a few chairs, all hard wood, and she sat down in one of them as she wrote a response, trying hard to control her tears. She was just overemotional from fever, that was all. She hugged her stomach, rocking back and forth as she typed.

>Lynn: actually that would be great if that's ok w you

>Reed: great! ill be at yr dorm in like 15min, where should I meet you?

Lynn’s stomach lurched, and she ran out of the lounge again, falling to her knees for the fourth time that day. Just like every other time, she retched wetly, gagging and spitting wads of cloudy bile into the toilet, unable to bring up anything significant.

She managed to type out the word bathroom in-between heaves, and it seemed like no time had passed at all before there was a sharp knock on the door, then the creak of hinges opening.

“Lynn? You in there?”

She could only groan, but managed to unlock the stall door and stumble towards Reed, who grabbed her arm immediately, supporting her. “Woah, you’re not lookin’ so hot.”

The two of them were getting some very dirty looks from the other occupants of the bathroom, so Lynn tried to stumble towards the door, unable to get very far without leaning on Reed. “Not... Not feeling so hot either,” she said, pressing her free hand to her stomach.

“No shit, you’re burning up.” Reed pressed a hand to Lynn’s forehead, pulling it back in mock shock. “My car’s just in the parking lot, do you think you can walk there?”

Lynn hummed, trying not to open her mouth. Reed let her lean against them as she stumbled down the hall. She braced herself for the chill of the cold November air as they walked outside, but with Reed’s arm around her, she barely felt the cold.

“I’m just down the street,” Reed said, guiding her to what was apparently their car, “but I figured you wouldn’t wanna walk.”

Lynn swallowed back bile. “At this point, I don’t even... I don’t even care if you’re a serial killer, I just wanna lie down.”

“I think we can make that work.”

Holy shit, Reed was strong as hell, Lynn mused feverishly, leaning nearly all her weight on them as they transitioned her into the car with one fluid motion. They even buckled her seat belt for her, making some soft noise when she moaned in pain as the strap touched her stomach.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna head to urgent care?” Reed asked. “They might be better than the student health center, and you’re really not looking good.”

Lynn shook her head, a dizzying motion that took more energy than she had. “Nah... I just wanna rest.”

“If you say so.” There was that worried note in their voice again, and Lynn leaned her head against the seat as the car lurched into motion, and so did her stomach. “I think there’s some trash bags in the glove compartment if you need ‘em. I’ll try to drive safe, but this thing? Is kind of a beater. You should see what it’s like on ice, though.”

Lynn made a small noise of acknowledgment, wincing as they bumped over mounds of slush. Saliva pooled under her tongue, and she swallowed hard. Not here, she thought. God, please not in front of Reed. Her throat burned with acid, and she gripped her stomach tightly, one hand covering her mouth. Just as her tongue lifted with a strong gag, a plastic bag was shoved into her lap. Gratefully, she buried her head in it.

“You’re okay, just get it up,” she heard Reed say, and then, “Oh, god,” as hot, foamy bile splashed into the bag, followed by a series of gurgling burps. “You’re really not feeling well, huh?”

She shook her head miserably, spitting into the bag and eventually wiping away a thick strand of mucus on the edge of the plastic before twisting it shut in disgust. “God. No. My stomach hurts so bad.”

“Do you need to get out for a sec? Being in the car probably can’t help.”

“Maybe.” Her throat still felt tight, and she tried to force a burp as she fumbled with the car door, only to end up barely scrambling to undo her seatbelt in time as she retched again and again, mucus falling in a steaming pile in the snow. Stomach finally empty for now, she belched emptily, a cloud of condensation forming as she did so.

Lynn vaguely became aware that someone was rubbing her back, and when she turned, Reed was holding her steady. “Ready to go?” they asked.

Lynn scrubbed at her watering eyes. “Yeah, she said weakly as they helped her back into the car. “God, this must be so gross for you.”

Reed shrugged as they put the key in the ignition. “Eh. I’ve got a strong stomach. Not really easily grossed out, you know? Besides, you're sick, so it’s not like it’s your fault. Someone’s gotta help you”

---

She managed to make it to Reed’s apartment without vomiting, though they did have to pull over several times so that she could take deep breaths out of the open window. Their apartment was several flights up, and they’d grimaced before slinging an arm around her shoulders, supporting most of her weight without even asking. Lynn didn’t even bother to protest -- they practically carried her up the stairs, but all she could care about was the fact that they were warm against her freezing skin.

“Okay!” Reed said, fumbling with the keys. “It’s not much, but at least I have a couch.”

Their apartment was small and cramped. The door opened onto a living room of sorts, with two faded couches forming a L-shape across from a TV. A slightly torn rug sat underneath a coffee table piled high with books and takeout boxes, and Reed rushed to clear it off, leaving Lynn standing by the front door, weaving back and forth.

There was a wall with an entryway seperating what Lynn assumed to the the kitchen area to her right, with another door closer to the entryway. On the left wall, close to where the couch sat, was a second door that was partially open. From the mess inside, she could guess it was Reed’s bedroom.

“C’mon in,” Reed said, gesturing to the couch. “Um, sit down, maybe? You look like you’re gonna die. Do you have any -- God, your roommate really kicked you out with nothing, huh? I was gonna ask if you wanted to change into, like, pajamas or anything, but you don’t even have a coat on.”

“Um,” Lynn said, still hovering awkwardly. “Yeah. She really didn’t want me to infect her.”

“Cool, cool. She’s an asshole.”

“Um --”

“No worries, I probably have something that’ll fit you.” Lynn very much doubted that, given that Reed had a good foot on her. “Do you need anything else? Like, food, we should probably make sure that you eat at some point? And I think that I might have some fever reducers somewhere around here --”

Lynn’s stomach cramped harshly. “Um,” she interrupted them, a note of urgency in her voice. “Do you have a bathroom I can use?”

“’Course! It’s that door--” Reed pointed to the closed door near the entrance Lynn had noticed earlier. “-- right there. Um, do you need help?”

Her guts churned again, and she managed a wan grimace. “I think I’ll be okay.”

Much to Lynn’s relief, their bathroom was almost shockingly clean. Her stomach still felt sore and achy after she’d finished expelling its contents from the other end; her nausea was fading for now, but the tightness in her throat and gnawing feeling in her stomach told her that she was far from done with this illness. She stumbled out of the bathroom, rubbing her aching stomach and nearly tripped over a pile of clothes on the floor.

“Those are for you,” Reed called from somewhere in the depths of the apartment. “Try ‘em on!”

Lynn retreated back into the bathroom, yanking her shirt off. The sweatpants Reed had provided just fit if the drawstring was pulled all the way, and their hoodie was a very loose fit, but the fuzzy inside felt wonderful against her sore stomach.

She sank down onto the larger of the two couches, which Reed had lined with sheets and stacked blankets on while she was gone. She pulled one up to her shoulders as Reed emerged from the kitchen area, carrying a mug of something steaming in one hand and a thermometer in the other.

“Hey,” they said. “Do me a favor and open wide, ‘kay? You’re not looking too hot, and I wanna know how worried I should be.”

“’s just the flu,” Lynn said weakly, but allowed Reed to slip the thermometer under her tongue. It beeped an agonizing minute later, and Reed winced at the number.

“102.3. That’s... not good,” they said. “I think that you should really rethink urgent care.”

Lynn groaned. “’M fine, really. Just need to rest.”

“Okay,” Reed said. “That’s fine, but I’m gonna need you to drink something first, okay? We’re gonna need you to keep some fluids down if you don’t wanna land in the emergency room.”

“‘Kay.” Lynn accepted a sip of the mug that Reed pressed into her hands. It was some kind of green tea, and it actually tasted... pretty good? “Thanks,” she whispered, her throat sore from fever and vomiting.

“No prob, dude,” Reed said, taking the mug from her hands. “Get some rest, okay?”

Lynn nodded, already drifting off into sleep.

---

She was vaguely aware of being woken on and off through the next few hours, Reed coaxing her to sip ice water or take her temperature before letting her slip back into feverish dreams. When she finally fought her way back to consciousness, the room was dark. The digital clock glowing on the coffee table read 8pm. She’d texted Reed to get her at... what was it, 2?

Groggy, head spinning, Lynn sat up. She felt awful, overheated and sweaty. She could just make out the shape of Reed’s body around the corner at the kitchen table, the glow of their phone illuminating the outline of their face. As if on instinct, they turned to face her.

“Hey,” they said, scooting their chair back. “You okay if I turn some lights on?”

Lynn nodded, then, remembering that it was dark as shit, said, “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Cool.” They turned on a lamp beside the couch, sitting at the end, near her feet. “How’re ya feeling? Your fever is still pretty high, d’ya think you could keep down some soup?”

Food? Ugh. Lynn made a face, but Reed pressed on. “C’mon, you need something in your stomach. Like, not just water, but actual nutrition, or you’ll just get sicker.”

Her stomach felt vaguely queasy, but Lynn shrugged. “I’ll try.”

“Great! I’ll warm some up for you.”

She dozed as the microwave ran and then beeped, and then Reed helped her sit up against the pillows with the bowl of soup in her lap. Her stomach gurgled as she ate, but seemed to accept the first swallow, so she did her best. She’d managed about three-quarters of the bowl when her stomach gurgled ominously, and she set it down.

“I don’t think I can eat anymore.”

“Okay, no problem,” Reed said. “Mind if I take your temperature again?”

Lynn shrugged noncommittally, and they whipped out the thermometer. She was glad when it beeped -- the whole time she was sitting up she’d been shaking with chills, and she quickly buried herself back under the blankets, swallowing a queasy burp.

They didn’t read out the temperature this time, just sighed. “If I leave you with some water, will you drink it? The most important thing right now is to keep hydrated.”

“Um. Sure.” Reed pushed forward a glass of water, and Lynn smiled shakily, but didn’t drink it. “I just don’t wanna puke again, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it. You must feel awful,” Reed said, and Lynn laughed hoarsely.

“That’s an understatement.”

“I get it. But you gotta drink something. You’ll feel worse if you don’t.”

Lynn hesitantly picked up the glass -- it felt too heavy in her shaking hand -- and cautiously took a small sip, and then another. To distract herself from the uneasy feeling in her belly, she asked, “Can I ask a personal question?”

“That depends... how personal are we talking? ‘Cause if we’re gonna get in there with the questions, you gotta buy me dinner first.” Reed wiggled their eyebrows, and Lynn felt a warmth that had nothing to do with fever run down her spine.

“Um. Why are you doing this?”

“What, talking to you? ‘Cause I’m bored, and there’s nothing on TV. I mean, if you want me to shut up, I can?”

“No! Like, taking care of a sick stranger you’ve never met. Like, gross sick.”

“Eh.” Reed shoved their hands in their pockets, looking away. “It’s what I would’ve wanted someone to do for me.”

There might have been a story there, but Reed looked a little down, so Lynn decided not to press. “Well. In that case, thank you. It’s appreciated.” Her stomach gurgled again, going from uneasy to actively nauseous in half a second. “Shit -” she gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth and throwing off the blankets.

Reed jumped up, maybe to help her, but she was already unsteadily standing, the cold air a shock to her system after staying under the blankets for so long. “Hmmmk!” she gagged, saliva flooding her mouth as she wobbled towards the bathroom as fast as her weak body would let her.

She didn’t make it.

Lynn was just in the threshold of the bathroom when her stomach lurched, squeezing as she heaved again, and she lost it, vomiting into her palm and all over the floor. The sink was closer than the toilet, so she lurched over to it, barely making it over the counter before undigested soup came flooding up her throat, forming a foaming mess in the basin. She heaved again, drawing in a ragged breath before she felt a large, calming hand on her shoulder.

“I’m so sorry!” she sobbed, tears running down her face. “I didn’t mean to -- I didn’t know I was gonna be sick, and I tried to get to the bathroom, I really tried --”

“Hey,” Reed said. “Hey. Lynn. Dude. It’s okay. That was kind of my fault anyways.”

“It’s not! I puked all over your floor, and in your sink --” The liquid was slowly draining now, but chunks of undigested noodles and chicken and vegetables were clogging the drain. God, what had she done? "I’ll clean it up, I promise!”

“You don’t have to worry about that, I got it,” they said softly. “Don’t make yourself more upset, you’ll get --” They sighed a little as she burped over the basin again, bringing up a torrent of chunky liquid. “--Sick.”

“Sorry,” Lynn managed when she was done dry-heaving. All that would come up was airy burps.

“Again,” Reed said, “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you it’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have forced you to eat or drink when you weren’t ready for it, and I definitely should’ve given you a trash can or something.” They shrugged. “Nothing that can’t be cleaned, so. Lesson learned.”

Reed guided Lynn over to sit on the closed toilet seat. “Sit here for me while I clean this up, okay? Just let me know if you start feeling bad again.”

Lynn took in a shaky breath. “Okay.”

Her stomach was cramping hard again, and she wrapped both arms around it, hunched over. Through a haze of fever, she watched as Reed, wearing a pair of dish gloves, scrubbed the sink and mopped the floor. Then, once the bathroom smelled of soap and disinfectant, they wet a washcloth with warm water and crouched down so they were eye level with her.

“Hey. I’m gonna clean you up a bit, okay?” Lynn nodded miserably, sweaty hair sticking to her face. She felt awful, shaking with chills and fever alternately, head swimming.

Reed gently wiped her face with the cloth, then her arms and hands. They re-folded it and rinsed it again, wringing it out and draping it against the back of her neck. She nearly gasped when it touched her skin. They’d used cool water this time, and it felt wonderful.

“There we go,” they said. “I bet you’re probably wanting a toothbrush or some mouthwash.”

God, she did feel gross. “Yeah,” Lynn croaked. “That’d be nice.”

“Cool, okay, good. Just stay here for a sec while I go grab some from the closet, okay?”

“Where else would I go?” Lynn’s eyes grew heavy. Sure, she had other places to go, but for now, she was glad to be right here.

#emetophilia #emeto #my fic

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