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boqvistsbabe · 3 years

Text

His Baby Girl - Matthew Tkachuk

So here is the Matty fic I’ve been talking about forever. I’m sorry it’s taken so long, I’ve been going through a kind of rough patch so motivation is hard for me to come by. I came up with the idea when I was going through some intense baby fever. Also grammar and formatting will be bad, and i probably won’t fix it just for times sake. I hope y’all like it.

Word count: 1,170

Warnings: brief mentions of birth (not in detail), pregnancy, maybe some swearing

Disclaimer: ya girl has never had a child before and I haven’t really been around anyone that was pregnant (except for as a child) and the ones I have been near had complications (everything ended fine) and it was years ago so I don’t remember much. I also do not want to do a lot of research for this cause that makes me loose motivation, so this will probably not be super accurate on the pregnancy/birth part.

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

Your body was completely exhausted. You had two days till your due date and you felt like you were about to pop. Matt had been the best help around the house and with you. He had been able to take on most of the workload when your doctor told you it was time to stop doing physical things. He had taken your intense and sometimes aggressive mood swings in stride.

Your water broke in the middle of the night. In the middle of the one night you had actually gotten to sleep on time in the last few weeks. Because despite being achy and tired most of the time, you still couldn’t manage to fall asleep when you got in bed. You had tonight though. It took all of a second to wake your sleeping husband up. He looked half dead and you felt bad, but you kind of didn’t have a choice.

“Matt, baby, my water broke we need to go to the hospital.” You spoke with a slight urgency in your voice.

“Mkay let me get the stuff out to the car then I can help you out there. Do not and I repeat, do not try and go down those stairs without me.” Was his mumbled response as he got out of bed and slipped a tshirt on. He put some shoes on and left the room.

The stuff you would need to go to the hospital was by the front door so it was ready to go whenever. You had double and triple checked the bags to make sure you had absolutely everything you could possibly need. The car seat was already in the car so Matt didn’t have to worry about that.

Matt returned moments later, “ the car is running and everything is in it except you,” he said as he walked over to where you had sat on the edge of the bed after changing into some clean sweats.

You were halfway to the hospital and you were stressed. You were worried you weren’t gonna be a good enough mom. What if you failed your kid? What if they hated you?

“Matt,” There was a sense of urgency in your voice that you didn’t mean to let slip, “what if I’m not a good mom?”

“Baby, look at me. You are going to be the best mom and I know it. You have been able to take care of me when I wasn’t feeling well. You’ve helped Taryn with stuff not even mom could help her with. Brady comes to you before he even thinks about coming to me. You’ve even helped the guys on the team when they didn’t know who else to go to. You are an amazing person and you’re going to be an even better mother. I promise you.”

You had tears in your eyes as you brought your intertwined hands up to your lips to press a soft kiss to Matt’s hand. The rest of the drive was silent except for the soft music that filled the car.

You cried tears of joy when you heard your daughters first cry reach your ears. After eight hours of labor and two hours of pushing, your baby girl had finally entered the world.

Matt was sure his heart was going to burst. As he saw the two of them together, his heart swelled. He didn’t think he could love her anymore than he already did, but he does. There you, his wife, was holding your baby girl. His baby girl. He was a father.

“Hey Dad? Do you wanna hold your daughter?” You asked him. When he looked up to meet your eyes he knew you could see the tears there. He silently nodded and moved closer to the bed.

You thought you were going g to die of cuteness as you watched Matt slowly rock back and forth, mumbling nonsense to your daughter.

Matt couldn’t think of anything more he could want in this world. He had an amazing wife and an adorable baby girl. His baby girl. She already had him wrapped around her little finger. She looked just like him too. Bright blue eyes and blonde tufts of hair on her head.

When you got home from the hospital you were both exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go to bed. Well that’s the way you felt. You were sore and achy and Matt, well Matt looked alive. Well maybe not looked it, but he was certainly acting more like it than you were. You were all three cuddled up in your bed. Matt was holding your daughter on his chest as he ran a large hand up and down her back. You were about to die from cuteness overload and you weren’t complaining.

Matt couldn’t still couldn’t believe it. He was a dad. He was a father. A father to the beautiful baby girl you had decided to name Isabella May Tkachuk. Or Bella for short. He didn’t think he could love anyone as much as he loved you, but that was before Bella came along.

When you woke up the next morning you were alone. Your husband wasn’t next to you and your daughter was missing from the bassinet next to your bed. And the clock read eleven o’clock. It seems that Matt decided to let you sleep in while you could. As you padded slowly down the stairs you could hear Matt talking. When you rounded the corner and saw him sitting on the couch watching some old game tape of his, with Bella on his bare chest as he explained what was going on to her; even though he knew she couldn’t understand a thing he was saying. You just about melted right then and there. Then when he gently pressed a kiss to her forehead and told your daughter that he loved her, you did melt.

“Morning Matty,” you mumbled as you walked around the couch and gingerly sat next to him.

“Mornin baby.” He looked over at you with a big smile.

“Already teaching her how to play?” You asked him.

“Of course. She’s a natural I just know it.”

“Think she’s gonna be as good as her dad?”

“She’s gonna be better. She’s gonna be a household name. Isabella Tkachuk greatest hockey player ever. I can see it now.”

“Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves yet. Maybe we should start with breakfast.”

“Mmm, it’s already on the table ready whenever you are.”

“Thank you baby. After I eat I’ll feed Bella.”

“Mmkay.” Was all you got in response as you walked into the kitchen.

Matt doesn’t think he’ll ever get over his little Isabella. With her sparkling blue eyes and her mother’s nose. He was obsessed. And he already knew he was gonna have to worry about boy or girl drama with his baby. His little girl. His baby girl. Isabella May Tkachuk had his whole heart and he was okay with that. Cause she was his baby girl.

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

Sorry that this took forever to come out. And on top of that it wasn’t that great. Here it is though. I hope y’all enjoyed it even with how shitty it turned out. I also have another Matty Dad fic that hopefully I can get out in the next few weeks. <— that one is the one that’s actually on my WIP list.

Tagging some friends: @jamiedrysdales @joshsandersons @pierreslucdubois @bowenbyram @stickrabbits @workhorsefromwhitehorse24 @calgarycanuck

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whumpmatsus · 3 years

Note

28 Kara is cute, one would say too cute to suffer. Not me. Maybe fic where he is feeling really sick, but being the quiet one he is forgotten for a while? Or something. Pls and thanks.

haha, nobody is EVER too cute to suffer here! including precious baby 18!Kara~ <3

I had fun with this, I hope you like it! c:

It’s pouring rain when the rest of the sextuplets come to walk Karamatsu home from the train station, and he doesn’t want to go out in it.

Today’s drama club meeting wasn’t a very good one. The teacher leading it got focused on the two lead actors for the play which the club is showing tomorrow night, because they were both fighting and at each other’s throats. Most of the others ignored Karamatsu in favor of being on their phones or reading magazines or running lines while the teacher was busy with the leads.

Finally, in a twist that puts the cherry on the horrible meeting sundae, despite the fact that he’s playing a small part, Karamatsu messed up his own lines every single time. The others were so irritated with him, he wished the floor would just swallow him up.

Usually he’s so good with acting. It’s something he’s passionate about and enjoys and takes pride in. Today… it’s not that he’s nervous about the production. It’s that he just feels awful.

He’s been tired since he woke up, he’s warm and clammy at the same time, his throat is scratchy, he keeps coughing and sneezing, and any part of his body that doesn’t have a specific complaint is simply achy. Mommy noticed that he wasn’t feeling well when she sent them all to school, but he begged her not to keep him home, and since he didn’t have a fever this morning, she let him go.

There’s… definitely a fever running through him now, though. He thought for sure his brothers would notice and maybe ask him if there was anything they could do; instead, he’s been behaving so normally as far as they’re concerned, with his quiet nature and tendency to cry over small things, that not a single one of them has picked up on it.

On top of everything else, he forgot his umbrella. It was supposed to be sunny today, so he had to walk from school to the train without one, and now when he gets out of the station, he has to go out into the rain with barely any protection.

Although he’s crying by the time he reaches his brothers, it blends in pretty well with the rain.

Thankfully, all his brothers are carrying umbrellas, so he huddles under Osomatsu’s and presses himself against his older brother’s side. Osomatsu immediately accommodates him, pulling Karamatsu in to get dry. “Hey, bro! Geez, you’re shaking like a leaf. Sorry you didn’t have your umbrella!” He chuckles and tousles Karamatsu’s hair. “That’s what you get for picking a nerd hobby that’s right after school so you don’t have time to go home and get anything.”

“Don’t listen to him, Kara ― your hobby is just fine,” Choromatsu hums. He’s busy trying to entertain Totty, who’s doing his damnedest to attach himself to Choromatsu’s hip. “Now, guys, it’s raining out here, so can we please go home and get some tea? If we stay out here much longer, we’re gonna catch colds, and I do not want to be sick for graduation.”

Jyushimatsu scoffs. “That’s still two weeks away. We’d be fine, dumbass.”

Choromatsu’s face turns bright red. “W-well, if you’re fine getting sick regardless, you can go jump in the puddles for all I care!”

A smile briefly flashes across the second youngest’s face. “Really??” And just like that, he’s back to looking constantly angry. “Naaah… that shit’s for babies!”

They all begin to walk, and Ichimatsu shakes his head. “Ah, Karamatsu-nii-san… some of my friends wanted to come see that play tomorrow. What time does it start, again?”

“U-uh.” Karamatsu sniffles a few times, nuzzling against Osomatsu’s shoulder. “7 P.M. for the first one. Then there’s another showing at… at 8:30. I… don’t know if I’m… going to go, though.”

“What??�� Choromatsu frowns as the six of them stop for the crosswalk. “You’ve never had stage fright before. You’ll be fine once you get up on the stage.”

“I don’t know, Choro…”

“Oh, come on, Kara-nii-san. Don’t cry like that… you made a commitment! You don’t wanna let your club down, right?”

Karamatsu reaches up to try and wipe the tears away. Not only is it kind of ineffective because his rain-soaked bangs keep dripping down his face, his hand keeps brushing against parts of his acne as he tries, which is painful. “Y-yeah, but…”

Osomatsu gives his little brother a squeeze that he thinks is supposed to be reassuring. It’s a bit rough, though. “No ‘but’s unless you’re grabbing a girl’s butt, Kara! You got this! You’ve done this shit before and totally nailed it. You usually don’t have too many lines, anyway, so it’s not that bad, is it?”

God, he should have a little more backbone. He should be able to say things decisively and not just fall silent when his brothers push him like this. Actually, if he just managed to say outright that he’s sick, they wouldn’t even be saying anything like this stuff. Right now they just think it’s pre-curtain jitters, which happens, which they can usually shake him out of because they know he loves acting.

Funnily enough, even though he doesn’t have much of a spine himself, this crappy cold of his evidently thinks this is the perfect time to speak up. The congestion he’s been fighting blossoms into something insistent that he can’t ignore, and he quickly ducks his face down between his hands.

“― Hh’DSHH! Hah’DTchh! Hd’TCHHuu! Ahh’DTSCHhhoo!”

A volley of coughs rides on the tail end of the last sneeze, so much that he can barely get a breath in. Each one makes his all-over soreness sharpen for a second, unbearable pinpricks of pain across his whole body. The coughs make something in his chest crackle and it hurtsand suddenly he’d pulled into a protective hug.

Part of him wishes he could just pull away. The part of him that wants to lean into the contact wins out, allowing him to nestle into his older brother’s chest as he continues to cough.

“Shit, Karamatsu!” Osomatsu starts rubbing his little brother’s back in an attempt to help break up the fit. “The fuck, man? That sounds nasty. You coming down with something?”

Karamatsu can feel the others hovering closer, murmuring in concern among themselves. The coughs finally taper off and he scrubs at his eyes, no matter how much it hurts, even as more tears start to bubble up. “Y-yeah… I woke up sick…”

“What??” Choromatsu sounds almost like he’s been betrayed or something. “You should have stayed home! Ah… wait… wait, you walked all the way to the station from school in the rain when you already have a cold? That’s a great way to end up with a sinus infection or pneumonia! Shit, we gotta get you home…”

“Sorry…” Karamatsu manages to croak out, followed by more sniffles. Thanks to the cold air and the sneezing, his nose has started running again. “U-uh… does anyone have tissues…? I used all mine already…”

Ichimatsu starts to dig around in his pockets. “Yeah, I think I have some.”

As he hands over a small pack to his older brother, Osomatsu gives a protective squeeze. “Hey, Choro, don’t blame Karamatsu for all this. He should have said something, sure, but it’s not all on him here. We should have noticed something was up. Right? We’re his brothers.”

Karamatsu lets out a small whine of protest, pressing a tissue over his nose. It would have been nice for them to notice, but… it’s not like it’s their job. They don’t owe it to him to pay attention to him. “I-it’s not your fault…”

Before anyone else can say a word, Totty lets go of Choromatsu and darts over to circle his arms around Karamatsu’s waist. He’s sort of wedging himself between Karamatsu and Osomatsu, pretty clearly wanting to be with both of them. “Ah! We love you, Karamatsu-nii-chan!! We’ll take good care of you!”

“… Yeah,” Choromatsu chuckles. He reaches over to pat Karamatsu’s back. “I’m sorry we weren’t paying enough attention to notice you weren’t feeling well. But we’re gonna get you home and tucked into bed. And I’m sure Mom will call the drama club teacher to tell her you can’t perform tomorrow night.”

Jyushimatsu hums, and he appears to be trying very hard not to smile wide like he wants to do. “We’re probably all gonna catch it, right?”

Ichimatsu chuckles softly. “Yeah, that’s what usually happens.”

“So… we can go stomp in puddles, right? Since we’re gonna get sick anyway?”

“No, no, no,” Choromatsu immediately speaks up, “no stomping in puddles! We have to get Kara home!”

Of course, it’s too late. Jyushimatsu has run off ahead of them all, launching himself into every puddle he can find, his face switching between an irritated scowl and a borderline maniacal grin.

Totty’s still clinging to Karamatsu, snuggling against his shoulder. “We’ll all get to be sick together! That means we get to stay home from school for a couple days. We can sleep and watch movies and have a big cuddle puddle.”

Choromatsu sighs. “As long as we don’t miss the commencement ceremony, that’s okay. I guess the last few weeks of our senior year don’t matter too much with regard to schoolwork, anyway. Especially since we’re already adults.”

Another few coughs are muffled against Osomatsu’s chest, prompting everyone to give a brief stroke to Karamatsu’s back or hair. “Well, before we catch it,” Osomatsu says, “we’ve gotta get this geek home and throw his ass in bed. He’s really warm… feels like his skin’s gonna burn his clothes up. C’mon, Kara. We’ll get you wrapped up in a blanket, then maybe I can help Mom make some kayu to make you feel better.”

“Mm…” Well. That does sound pretty good. “… W-with umeboshi on top?”

“Yeah, sure! Whatever you want! And Choro can make some tea, Totty can pick out a movie, Ichi can get a cold cloth for your forehead, and Jyushi…” Osomatsu blinks and peers out where their fifth eldest is… way ahead of them. “What can Jyushi do?”

Choromatsu blows out a slow, frustrated breath. “… Stay out of the way??”

Totty giggles. “He can be the bodyguard! We’ll station him outside the room, and if any of Ichimatsu-nii-chan’s friends come by to try and take Ichimatsu-nii-chan away, Jyushi-nii-chan will scare them off!”

“Hey, yeah! That’s a good idea, Totty!”

“What? Why do you want to scare my friends away?”

“Because Karamatsu-nii-chan’s sick! They can’t drag you off somewhere when your big brother needs you! That’d be mean.”

“A-ah, hahahah… he’d be fine without me, but… I can just say no! We don’t need Jyushi to scare them away.”

“We miiiiiiight! At least, it would be funny!”

Karamatsu offers a tiny laugh, which quickly turns into another couple of coughs. He puts a weak arm around Totty and wonders how he’s going to keep his eyes open for the rest of the walk home. He thinks they’re not too far away, though.

“Thanks, guys… this… this might not be such a bad day after all…”

#Osomatsu san #whump #Karamatsu #18!Matsus #18!Karamatsu #illness #cold #fever #hurt/comfort #Osomatsu #Choromatsu #Ichimatsu #Jyushimatsu #Totty #aaaaaa look at these good boys all taking care of their brother once they realize he's sick #that's the pain of being quiet and shy! poor Kara #but at least he's getting taken care of now!! <3

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michaelmyersmalewife · 3 years

Text

the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat 2/?

- sephiroth/reader

- sfw

“You look like shit.” said one of your fellow 2nds - Devon - through a mouthful of food.

“Thanks.” you replied, sitting next to him like a bag of rocks.

By the time you dragged yourself out of the training room (not even bothering to hit the communal showers and heading straight for the cafeteria in an exhausted stupor), there was only pallid, unspecified meat and soggy leaves that might’ve been a salad once left in the reservoir. It wasn’t bad. But it wasn’t good either, uncomfortably sitting somewhere in the so-so region. Looking at the vaguely edible shapes in their cold, rectangular boxes, you figured they were more of an essence of whatever they labeled it as. A single piece of white bread had more flavor. You stacked your tray with what you could, and just before you left to grab a seat, you doubled back to grab a water bottle.

After finally having the chance to settle, the muscles in your arms and legs ached. Like someone had taken a hammer to your joints. It was nothing like the feeling of being a spunky 3rd just coming back from rigorous training - you had ached then, but it felt good. It felt like progress. Now you were just dead tired. You suspected with great indignation that the feeling wouldn’t subside in a good while.

You were about to shove a fork full of the essence of meat in your mouth when you couldn’t help but look up at the friend sitting across from you. He was staring at you with wide, bluer-than-the-sky eyes. His puppy stare (that you made sure never to call it that to his face).

“Vic.” you said, feinting a stern tone. “Don’t wanna talk about it.”

You were dying to talk about it.

“You’re dying to talk about it.” said Victor and Devon in unison.

You groaned, hands flying to your face and tugging at your eyelids as you dragged them down. You had laid there in the training room for a good five minutes after Sephiroth left, half-expecting him to come back and further damage your ego. But he didn’t. And thankfully, no one else happened upon your battered form, for better or worse. Admittedly, you were feeling a lot less achy now that you were moving around, but where your back had collided with the floor now spouted an angry bruise in varying shades of yellow and purple.

“You sparred with Sephiroth?”

Victor - a 3rd and a few years your younger - always had at least one star in each of his eyes, but as you finished your lackluster retelling of the bout, he was twinkling like the night sky. “That’s so cool.”

“Oh yeah, real cool.” you picked at a clump of soggy leaves. “Ice cold.”

“That bad huh?” Devon said, with all the concern of wet concrete.

Slouching back down from where he was practically leaning across the entire table, Victor pouted.

“C’mon, it couldn’t have been that bad! At least you’re not stuck doing drills every day. Do you know how many of these guys would beg to be where you are?”

“At least you have someone to tell you what to do. Sephiroth just..expects me to know. It’s so - he’s so-” you punctuated with a grumble in your throat and a stab at the chalky meat on your tray, but it was so tender that it flaked away.

“He trusts you - that’s a good thing!”

You paused, taking a begrudging swig of water. “I guess..you have a point.”

You were still feeling slightly bitter, but a childish smirk played at the corners of your mouth. “Okay maybe it wasn’t completely terrible.”

They both perked up, looking at you curiously.

“I might’ve cut his hair.”

Both of their eyes shot open. “You what?”

---

It was dark by the time you and your friends dispersed, drowsily heading back to your respective quarters. But as tired as you were, you still felt like gum stuck on the bottom of someone’s shoe, so with a heavy sigh you hauled yourself to the showers.

They were empty, and completely quiet save for the tap-tap-tap of a few leaky showerheads. You tried to control your shivering as you turned the squeaky knob, a paralyzing chill washing down your body as cold water hit your skin like thousands of tiny icicles. The temperature evened out after a minute or two, though it was so late in the day that the highest it was able to reach was a tepid lukewarm.

You made quick work of your hair, combing out the last of the suds with your fingers. As you washed the rest of your body, your thoughts wandered back to the bout. It had only been a few hours since the training session, and you were already feeling a little better, if a little sore. But now the bruise was the least of your worries.

Sephiroth. Trusting you. You.

You wanted to laugh. You didn’t know why the concept was so unfathomable. To you, it just seemed like he was above that sort of thing. You knew of the other 1sts - it was almost impossible to avoid them, even if you wanted to - and how they were as thick as thieves. You knew your mentor was closer to them than anyone else, recalling brief memories of seeing them roaming the halls together, laughing and being..normal. You couldn’t imagine yourself in that sphere. You’d have better luck trying to catch a cloud.

Shutting off the water, you halfheartedly dried yourself off, your hair still slightly damp on your pillow as you faded into a dreamless sleep.

---

Waking up that next morning wasn’t as much of a chore as you thought it was. You were still sore as hell, but at least you could get up without complaining. Much.

You got dressed, your back popping as you threaded your arms through your sleeveless shirt’s armholes. Then, you rolled your shoulders, taking your wrist in one hand and pulling it across your chest, stretching and popping the joints in that socket. And then the other. Sliding your suspenders over your shoulders, you spied your reflection in the mirror in your bathroom. You could fit yourself inside it, with at least a foot to spare. But that foot was reserved for the door to swing open. You couldn’t count the amount of times you’ve stubbed your toe while opening the thing with both hands twice over. Brushing your teeth, you poked mindlessly at the dark bags under your eyes. You hadn’t noticed when they had gotten there, nor for how long. You spit into the sink.

Fixing your hair - which had somehow knotted itself in the back, making you look like you had gotten shocked by lightning in your sleep - with your hands, you were satisfied enough to leave your room. It was still early enough in the morning that the cafeteria was closed for at least another half-hour. Feeling restless, a prickling in your bones that couldn’t be quelled by sitting alone in your room - or anywhere else for that matter - you decided to go for a run.

The base’s outside training fields (that weren’t fields at all, but rather a series of cleared pads that weren’t completely overrun with crates of ammunition and other surplus supplies that had yet to be shipped to a warehouse somewhere) were a fair walk away, but you didn’t mind.

As you reached the end of the hallway, the elevator leading to the ground floor already in sight, the door slid open, revealing a figure that you didn’t quite register at first. You awkwardly stopped, your boots slightly skidding against the linoleum as if urging you forward. Which you did anyway, like a machine that had sputtered slightly before kicking itself back into gear. Sephiroth hadn’t seen your buffer, but the sound of it drew his eyes to you almost immediately. He stepped out, jutting one shoulder out first before the rest of his body followed. Trying not to meet his eyes, you waited for him to exit the elevator.

“Morning, sir.” you muttered, leftover grogginess on your tongue.

He nodded, a cordial expression flashing across his face.

As you passed him, one foot about to land in the elevator, you paused. There was a hand on your shoulder. You took a step back, straightening your posture without thinking.

His hand was gloved, always gloved, the leather not entirely warm - like he had just put them on. He wasn’t grabbing you in place, but Sephiroth had a gravity to him that made you want to stay there. It kind of scared you, but you were too busy shaking off the last vestiges of sleep that liked to hang around in the morning to care. If anything, you were just confused.

“Um.” you didn’t mean for the sound to come out, but too much silence made you nervous. You stayed quiet, too muddled to think of anything to say.

Sephiroth himself wasn’t silent for too long, but it was long enough to put a little seed of apprehension in you. You shifted your weight on your feet.

“Was this from yesterday?” he said in a notably smaller tone than usual.

It took you a full second to notice that he was looking at your shoulder, and another second to realize what he was talking about. “Oh - oh, that?”

You twisted your neck as far as it could go, bending back slightly even though the motion was more irritating than you’d like to admit. You gave the bruise a passing glance.

“I mean..yeah.” you said. “But I’ve had worse, can hardly feel it anymore actually.” you quickly added after seeing his brows crease lower on his face.

“Hey, man, seriously I’m over it. It’s just a bruise, you didn’t like, cut my arm off.” Though for a moment, you thought he would have done exactly that.

“I tend to get carried away with that sort of thing..it was unprofessional of me,” He almost seemed to shrink into himself, but he looked more like one of the droopy willows you saw once while patrolling a small village outside Midgar. He withdrew his hand like he had just stung you. “I apologize for causing you harm.”

“You..don’t have to, Seph, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

“But-”

“Honest. It was just a fall, that’s how sparring matches are.” you waved him off. His concern was sweet at first, albeit strange and just a little uncomfortable. But now you felt like you were consoling a kicked puppy. “Besides, it was fun.”

“..Fun?”

“Well, yeah. It’s not every day you get to fight, er, you.”

“I see.” he said, noticeably relaxing a bit. “So you’re sure you’re alright?”

“Positive.”

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly in..satisfaction? Relief? Something like that. He looked like he was about to leave, but before he could fully turn his back to you he stopped, turning his head.

“Oh, if you can, meet me in the briefing room in about an hour. There’s something I’d like to speak to you about.”

You could feel your stomach actively turning into a pit. “Aren’t we talking right now?” you said, feeling more than a little thick in the head and wanting very badly to slap yourself when you saw a crease form between his brows.

“It’s important. I requested a meeting with Lazard.”

The pit in your stomach was now a sinkhole.

“Oh,” you said. “Okay, uh...cool.”

Sephiroth snorted with some degree of amusement. “Don’t be late.”

“Sure!” you said maybe a little too enthusiastically. You never were good at masking your anxiety. “Sure.” you quickly repeated in a markedly more composed tone, doing an even worse job at sounding calm.

He was already walking away - thank god. You didn’t want to see his face. As the elevator doors severed you from him, you found yourself tapping your foot against the panels of the floor, arms crossed so tight they felt stiff and weird dangling at your sides as you walked outside to the training field.

You ran laps (you weren’t counting, but it felt infinite), your brain shutting itself off without you meaning to. There was too much to think about, but it was so early in the morning you told yourself, that you deserved not thinking about any of it. Just for a couple minutes, a few more laps. The apology, the hand on your shoulder, the meeting, the apology - nope. Not thinking about it.

---

By the time you reached the cafeteria, you found that you weren’t that hungry at all.

#sephiroth #sephiroth x reader #ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #crisis core #ff7 crisis core #my fics

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angst-king · 3 years

Text

Seeing red pt 1

(TW mention of sexual exploitation/abuse, ablism, physical and verbal abuse, transphobia, homophobia, emotional abuse, & attempted suicide)

(i will also be using she/her pronouns on Kiri for the first chapter and half of the second chapter) “That was fun, damn you were so good for me tonight kitten.” A soft out of breath voice calls out, the girl quickly grabs her things, slipping her clothes back on and she's almost out the door before the girl on the bed adds. “Hey, money’s on the dresser, take what you want kitten, you did so well~” Her voice purs, taking the money she hurried out the door, and soon out of the apartment complex. Walking the cold dark streets in the chilly night, the girl grabs her phone and calls someone. “H-hello?” Her voice was soft and shaky “hey there Ijima, did you have to ‘go out’ again?” “m-mhm, I d-don’t wanna go home Ashido.” “I know you don’t, just come on over, I’ll get you some clothes okay.” “O-okay, s-see you in a bit Ashi” “See ya Kiri” The two hung up and her steps quickened into a run.

She was so glad the ashido house had always welcomed her, whether it was after school, or late into the night to the ass crack of dawn. Her quiet feet brought her to a familiar street and soon to the house she could finally rest at. She was tired, barely holding herself up shaky legs that were weak from her previous activities. Knocking on the door, she could barely hold herself up, the door had opened just in time. A girl with pink hair and black roots opened the door, she was dressed in her pajamas with a slight look of sleep on her face clouding those bright yellow eyes. “Th-thanks Ashido” She says, hurrying into the house, stumbling. The girl catches her waking up more. “God Kirishima be careful, I’ve got ya, let's get you showered and into some better clothes. Ashido says softly to Kirishima who tries to balance herself but still needs assistance.

“I’ve got ya, now come on, you need a bath hun.” Ashido closes the front door, and leads Kirishima up the stairs and into a bathroom, giving the girl privacy. Ashido found some comfortable clothes for Kirishima.

Kirishima wasn’t in there long seeing as she could hardly stand up straight it was quick but good enough to get the smell of sex, and stickiness of shared bodily fluids. Her hair loosely tied up as she comes out in a towel, Mina hands her the clothes. Kirishima heads back into the bathroom and changes. Coming out once more, she’s shaking but clothed and dry, Mina hated to see her friend so hurt. There was a dull look in those ruby eyes, her lips small and barely able to hold the weight of a smile during a time like this. She was tired, sore, and worst of all, she was numb. She sunk to her knees on the floor in the pink haired girl’s bedroom. She began to shake harder, holding onto herself, fingers tightly gripping her slim biceps. Face towards the floor, only light snivels and whimpers could be heard from the ravenette.

Coming over to comfort the girl, Ashido knelt down and gently pulled her into her loving frame. Flinching, it only took a second before a choked sob erupted and the young Kirishima started to cry. Her body going slack in her friend’s hold as tears rained down from her eyes dampening the shoulder she cried on. All the other could do was rub her back and hold her close and offer advice. There were moments upon moments of quiet sobbing before her words came out in a stammer.

“A-Ashido, I-I wanna die, please.” Her voice pleaded, shaking her head the pink haired teen tried to persuade her. “No Kiri, i’m sorry I can’t let you do that-” “pl-please, just give me a bottle of pills, cough syrup, a knife, something! Please Mina! Let me die already!!” She exclaimed, pressing her friend into allowing her to silence her inner demons. “Shhh Kiri, I’m sorry I know you do but, I can’t let you do that please, we’re gonna get you help, i know you need it, but we still gotta figure out a way to do that. Just hang in there please, you’re safe with me.” All Kirishima could do was nod and cry till she fell asleep.

Morning came and Kirishima was soon returned back home against their will yet she knew she couldn’t stay with the Ashidos forever. She already felt like a burden to them for having to come to them for food and clothes and even comfort or a place to escape. Walking up to the door, she knocked and waited for the door to be unlocked. A soft jingle jangle came and the door opened, stepping in she saw her mother smiling. “Finally you’re home, so how’d it go hun, did ya have fun?” She asked excitedly, the memories of the night before made her queasy to think about so she shook her head. “M-mom please I-I need to go lay down, I don’t feel good.” Frowning, the woman closes the door, rolling her eyes. “Oh please Ijima stop that, you’re fine, you’re always saying that or doing that stupid thing where you fall and pretend to have a seizure. I know you’re just doing it for attention.” Ijima sighed, rubbing her temples. “I’m not faking seizures for attention, why can’t you just believe me?” That earned her a harsh shove into the wall behind her, piercing red eyes glaring into scared ones that were once dull a second ago but now filled with fear. “Because I said so! Because I don’t have to believe you, I am the parent and you are MY child!” The more she spoke the louder Ijima’s mother’s voice got to the point of yelling. Ijima began to cower and shake from terror. “Honestly Ijima you have all of these stupid ‘problems’ like your ‘epilepsy’ or you saying you want to be a boy. Do you really think anyone’s gonna love a retarted tranny?!!” The slurs hurt but her phrases hurt the worst “Do you honestly think someone’s gonna wanna take care of you? No one is going to love you like that, no one wants someone like that! Get that through your head!” Her last words, Ijima was grabbed by her hair and her head was repeatedly bashed against the wall. Each slam made her feel weaker and weaker.

Dropping to her knees, Ijima went limp on the floor, the pounding radiated through her skull, causing her hands to tremble but she forced herself to silently walk up to her room. Each step, she wants to cry but biting her lip is the only thing keeping her from letting the floodgates break. She could feel her mind filling with static so she’d better hurry her pace, or if she didn’t she wouldn’t know what hit her.

Once in her own room, she let go, her entire being was weak. She collapsed with a thud onto the floor. Tensed and tight her body spasmed and jerked, eyes rolling back, she was defenseless and unable to do anything if anyone were to find her with plans in their head. Luckily her mother decided to leave her be for the time being. She’d wake up feeling sick, her body sore and tired, her vision gone. She was vulnerable and she hated it, unable to speak properly, ask for help, or even think of it. Who would help her anyway, it's not like she couldn’t do it herself. It took a bit of trying but she’d manage to get herself up right and into bed, which would lead to sleeping the day away or laying in bed until the nausea got worse enough to get sick.

When she woke up, she had no idea as to where she was. Her vision black, her skin was ice cold, and her stomach was sloshing queasily. Even without knowing her surroundings she forced herself to move. She stretched uncomfortably, her body was sore and achy from the seizure. Once she had stretched, she scooted her way around her room until she found her bed. Blindly searching the climbing up into her bed to lay down. It was exhausting and not to mention her nightly activities from the day before still left her exhausted. She ended up going back to sleep, she wanted to sleep away her days, she hated waking up. She hated opening her eyes and would sometimes pretend to be ‘out’ longer after a seizure just so people would leave her alone but. That didn’t always work, sometimes she would actually have another seizure, or someone would try and hurt her. Mainly the girls at school, they would just watch her convulse on the floor, step on her, take pictures or videos and post them around the school, or just gossip about her in general. Ijima wished she never had to wake up, and those urges grew stronger and stronger with each day until.

Today. She’d slept through yesterday but even now she felt horrible. Her vision hadn’t returned fully yet, it was spotty and blurry. She wasn’t mentally awake yet either, she had such horrible brain fog she could hardly register the screaming coming from outside her bedroom door. It was too late and in came her screaming mother. “IJIMA YOU CAN HEAR ME I KNOW YOU’RE AWAKE!” Ijima flinched, her eyes weren’t adjusting as quickly as she’d like and neither was her brain. Even though the screaming woke her up as the woman came barging in towards her. “WHY THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN IGNORING ME?!! I CALLED YOUR NAME SO MANY TIMES, YOU OVERSLEPT AND YOU’RE LATE FOR SCHOOL AND DON’T GIVE ME THIS ‘I HAD A SEIZURE' BULLSHIT CAUSE YOU’RE JUST A LYING BITCH WANTING ATTENTION!” The screaming scared her into a panic, she hated screaming, especially when her vision wasn’t right. If her vision was faulty her hearing would pick up the slack and so did every other sense. It made every sound more pronounced to the point where she could feel the venom in her mother’s words. Ijima was shaking as tears unknowingly ran down her face, she only knew this when she pointed it out. “Oh stop acting like this you brat, you’re so pitiful Emma left because of you. She didn’t want someone like you! She’d still be here if you weren’t so selfish!” A pillow was shoved over her face and held there but that didn’t muffle Ijima’s hearing. Ijima although used to hearing her mother say this, always hurt deep inside and the woman knew that. Emma was Ijima’s other mom, Emma joined the military a little after Ijima had started showing signs of epilepsy which only made Ijima more inclined to believe what the other woman known as Ito had told her. It was always a reminder, Ijima always felt responsible for Emma’s leaving but also felt betrayal and pain that no one would love her. Her own mother left her to join the military in order to avoid taking care of her. “Just go, get ready for school” Ito said coldly, getting up and releasing the pillow that suffocated Ijima. Ijima did her best to rise on her feet, steadying herself on the floor as her mother left her to get ready.

Ijima did her usual routine even when she’d had epileptic episodes that left her still rather disoriented. Though while in the bathroom a little voice in her head spoke to her. ‘Get those tums and take ‘em at school, see how many you can take before you die?’ With the suggestion she went through her medicine cabinet which really only held a bottle of tums, extra toothbrushes and toothpaste. Ijima grabbed the tums and snuck them into her bag before continuing her routine. She skipped breakfast. On her way to school, she always stopped by Mina’s house knocking on the door, it isn’t long before the pink haired girl appears. “Hey there Kiri!” Ijima didn’t bother to make a smile, she couldn’t, the weight of it was too heavy for those weak lips. Her hands were shaky, and her eyes were dead on the outside but if you looked deep enough you could see the pain. Ijima was quieter than usual, all she did was pretend to listen to Mina talk about gossip, magazines, typical girl things that she always spoke of. Ijima wasn’t truly listening, she was spacing out, her mind was filled with static but also the obsession of death. She didn’t want to live any longer and she’d take any out she could. Maybe if she downed the entire bottle of tums it’ll be enough to kill her? Though if another opportunity presented itself to her, she’d take it. She couldn’t stand being on this earth any longer. She couldn’t stand being around girls, they were deceptive, deceitful, demanding, cold, and selfish. The only girl she could trust was Mina, Mina always proved to Ijima that she was a loyal friend. Mina was actually the only one who treated Ijima well. Even though she had met some bad men or boys, awful girls or women were a lot more prominent in her life. Ijima was done with it, why should she have to suffer due to her mother’s ideologies?!

As they made their way to school they had to cross busy streets that were filled with cars rushing to their destinations. When Ijima got an impulsive thought ‘jump into traffic’ She could hear the cars coming and would Mina even be able to stop her in time? And would the car even stop in time? She’d have to time it just right. The cross walk was still being held up as the car zoomed down the lane when Ijima saw a truck coming barrelling down the street. Her mind raced yet was clouded by multiple loud ones that screamed ‘DO IT! JUMP!’.’DO IT YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT’ ‘YEAH DO IT, NO ONE’S GONNA MISS YOU!’ ‘FINALLY AN ESCAPE, YOU CAN’T FAIL NOW!’ ‘DO IT! JUMP’ The truck was getting closer and Ijima didn’t even fight the voices.

Everything was a blur, a scream and sickening thud and crunch. Then it went black.

Waking up to a loud beeping sound, Ijima’s eyes struggled to open and adjust to the bright lights and whiteness of the hospital. The brightness was blinding to her eyes as they’d been used to the dark for some time now. Eyes looking around, they’re met with white walls, white sheets, white bandages wrapped around her wrists and even around some of her torso. As she became more and more awake, Ijima started to feel the pain. It was a dull aching pain, but it wasn’t just physical. Oh no this was mental. Sure her ribs had been cracked, she sustained a mild concussion, lacerations from the truck, and had a few seizures. The mental pain was way worse, she didn’t want to wake up today, she didn’t wanna wake up ever! She didn’t want to make it, this wasn’t her goal to wake up in a hospital! She wanted to be dead! Gone, away from the hell her mother puts her through even if she deserves it! ‘Why?! Why couldn’t they just leave me for dead!??’ She thought to herself as tears welled up in her eyes. Everything was building up at once, her emotions filled her even if she still felt numb to some extent she finally screamed as her emotions spilled like an overflowing sink.

“Why! Why couldn’t you all just let me fucking die!?!! PLEASE JUST KILL ME!” Even with her voice breaking between her words it was loud enough to be heard from out the door. Grabbing harshly at her long black hair, tangling it between her fingers tightly with white knuckle gripping. She cried, sobbed more like it. It was so overwhelming to try and find another way to just end it as she wanted her life to be over so badly. She wanted to bleed out on the floor and never wake up again. Her eyes darted around but she noticed that the only thing in the room was her bed, the vitals machine, and an IV pole with a line or two or fluids that were connected to Ijima. Seeing the bandages around her arms she unravels them revealing several lacerations that were still rather fresh looking. With her sharp shark-like teeth, she raises an arm towards her lips, opens her mouth and chomps down as hard as she could. Blood floods her mouth like an ocean flooding the tidal pools of its beach. The taste of Iron coats her tongue, discolor’s her teeth, and drips down her lips escaping to splatter onto her blue hospital gown. Hearing the screams, a nurse came to check up on Ijima who was horrified to witness Ijima’s desperate method of self harm. She ran to get a doctor when Ijima detached her mouth from her arm. Blood pouring and adding to the small drips and splatters on her gown. Large splatters of the crimson fluid painted the blue gown discoloring it to a somewhat purple hue. When the nurse urgently returned with a doctor and another nurse the doctor was just as surprised!

First they had to tie Ijima down, placing straps over her to keep her from trying anything else.

While she was being strapped down the doctor and a nurse worked to repair Ijima’s arm, she tried to fight them but in the end she was immobilized. Tired of fighting the doctor all she could do was cry and mutter about why couldn’t they just let her die. The process of actually fixing her arm was a little extensive. They had to stop the bleeding, then see how far the damage went before deciding on what they’d have to do. Even though she didn’t break any bones, the doctor decided to cast both her arms to keep her from trying to bite herself again. She ended up being put to sleep this time.

#my psych academia #kiribakupsychward #abused Kirishima #transkirishima #epiletic Kirishima

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sergeant-bonky · 3 years

Text

Pamper His Girl

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: After a long, exhausting mission, your boyfriend knows what to do. (Based off the prompt submitted to @the-ss-horniest-book-club)

Warnings: NSFW; soft smut, unprotected sex, mild language, fluff

Authors Notes: Hope the smut sounds better to you than it does to me lol

The moment your exhausted, tired, aching body collapsed on the bed, face first, Bucky knew what to do. The mission took everything out of you, zapped your energy. You were so overtired that you couldn’t sleep during the three days you were away. Three days of pure hell, running, fighting. You ran so much that your feet became numb.

Bucky started the session off by filling the bathtub of hot water and your favorite bubbly stuff that he still didn’t know what it was called. He lit a couple of candles around the tub to create a relaxing atmosphere.

Bucky helped you out of your tactical gear and helped you into the bathtub, removing his clothes and joining you. His strong hands massaged the knots and tension out of your shoulders and it felt just like heaven.

The next thing on Bucky’s pamper list was his favorite thing - sex.

He didn’t even bother to dry you off. Just laid you down on the bed and kneaded your breasts, occasionally pinching your nipple until you would whimper. A small sign to tell him you haven’t passed out on him, yet.

His fingers ghosted over your skin as they traveled down your body. His hands rested on your knees as he pushed them apart with ease, careful not to pull any muscles in your thighs. His fingertips grazed along your inner thighs, pulling whimpers and tired groans from your mouth.

“You so tired baby?” He teased, “Do you want me to make you feel better?” He whispered. You nodded tiredly, wetness pooling between your legs. Bucky hooked your thighs over his arms, his aching hard length rubbing between your soaking wet folds. “Fuck baby. You’re so wet.” If you weren’t so tired, you might have slapped him for his ‘DUH!’ moment. Considering he’s only just lifted you out of the bath.

“Ready?” He asked, dipping his head into the crook of your neck and kissing your sensitive skin.

“Mhm.” You moaned, feeling him stretch you open as he slid home into the deep, dark and wet cave. His cock dragged against your walls and it took no time for him to locate your G-spot when you yelled out.

His pace wasn’t fast, and it wasn’t slow. He wasn’t rough like he usually is, tonight was all about you, Bucky was going to take care of you.

Your eyes rolled up into the back of your head when he grinded against the spot constantly, making you hum in approval.

“Oh god.” You whined, your hands grabbing the headboard. Your body was so sore, so tired but the pleasure he was bringing you rinsed the pain away, even if just temporary.

“You’re close.” He states, matter of factly. Feeling your walls clench tightly like a vice, it was hard for him to hold back.

“YES! I’m-” Your body trembled and toes curled over as your high washed through you, making you feel light headed and as if you were in a floaty state of mind.

The waterfall in your body crashed over Bucky, similar to an ocean crashing against rocks with the same force. His hips stilled and pubic bone flushed against you as he spilled his seed inside.

You were both a panting, sweaty mess. Bucky chuckled and wiped a strand of hair from your face. “Are you with me?” He asks, noticing your distant gaze. You chuckle lightly and nod your head.

“I wasn’t expecting that at this time of night.” You slurred slightly from sleep.

“Couldn’t let my girl go to bed tired and achy. How are you feelin’?”

“My back hurts and I’m soooooo tired, Buck.” You sighed.

Bucky pulled out and got off the bed. Your body jolted slightly when you felt the warm washcloth between your legs. You heard him throw the wet cloth in the laundry and the bed dipped.

“Turn over baby.” He ordered but you didn’t comply.

“Too tired for round two.” You whined. He chuckled and held your hand.

“I’m not asking for more sex baby girl. Wanna give your back a nice massage with some oils so you can sleep.”

“Ohh.” Then you turned over on the bed with his help. Bucky straddled your butt, the oil trickling down your spine and you sighed in content when his hands finally touched your back.

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huphilpuffs · 5 years

Text

flares

chapter: 27/? summary: Dan’s body has been broken for as long as he can remember, and he’s long since learned to deal with it. Sort of. But when his symptoms force him to leave uni and move into a new flat with a stranger named Phil, he finds that ignoring the pain isn’t the way to make himself happy. word count: 3944 rating: mature warnings: chronic illness, chronic pain, medicine a/n: My sincerest apologies for how late this chapter is; the last few months got busy between ending uni and starting my first full time job, and the emotions here were really hard to write. Hope it’s worth the wait! And hug thanks to @obsessivelymoody for beta’ing for me!

Ao3 link || read from beginning

Dan’s eyes are still burning when they get back to the flat.

Phil holds the door open for him, and he walks in with his arms wrapped tight around his middle. His blanket is still draped over the back of the sofa. There’s an open cereal box on the kitchen counter. The lounge is dark, TV screen black and windows covered.

It’s just how they left it, yet it feels stupidly, inexplicably wrong.

Phil’s hand lands on the small of his back, so gentle it’s like he thinks Dan’s fragile. Maybe he is. There’s still pressure behind his eyes, an ache between his ribs. Part of Dan feels like he could shatter under the pressure, fall back into a shaky heap of unwarranted tears.

His fingers press harsher against his sides. If he stops holding himself, he might fall apart.

Phil’s thumb drifts against the base of Dan’s spine. “What do you wanna do?” he asks.

Dan shrugs. They’re still standing in the doorway, backs to an empty corridor. He’s not sure what to do, where to go. It feels like the flat should have changed while they were gone, even though he hasn’t, not really. His back still hurts. There’s still a dull ache at his temples. The rub of his shirt against his chest still burns.

Nothing’s changed.

Yet Dan’s dizzy with how off-balance he feels.

“Wanna sit down?”

Phil’s voice is soft, careful, like he’s worried Dan will break down in sobs again, hurt himself as he does. His thumb rubs a circle against Dan’s back, low by his hips, as he presses forward gently.

Dan’s not sure if he does. It feels weird to just come home and do what he always does. But he nods anyway.

They settle onto the cushions side by side, a few awkward inches between them. The coarse fabric of Dan’s skinny jeans grates at his skin where it’s pulled tight around his knee. He should change, but now that he’s sat down, he can’t muster the energy to stand again. His whole body is tired.

His brain is tired.

Phil turns on the TV, pulls up the guide because whatever they were watching this morning has faded into a movie that seems dreadfully dull.

“Tell me if you see something you wanna watch, okay?” says Phil.

Dan nods. He watches the guide flick by to the too-steady beat of Phil’s thumb pressing the remote, and doesn’t say a word. A few movies he knows go by, a couple shows he knows he enjoys. Dan just lets his head fall back against the cushions, his eyes closed.

Phil sets the remote down. The dialogue of the dreadfully dull film drones on.

Neither one of them speaks over it.

---

“We should order pizza,” says Phil. “To celebrate, maybe?”

His hand is on Dan’s knee now, thumb drifting over it in little irregular patterns. At some point, he changed the channel to a sci-fi film that’s far more enjoyable. Dan even managed to muster some mental energy to pay attention to it, enough physical energy to lift his head from the sofa and open in his eyes.

It all fades now. His head lolls back and his eyes slam shut. Part of him thinks every little bit of energy he’s regained is trapped in his chest, bubbly and anxious and tight.

“Celebrate what?” he asks, voice tight, even though he knows the answer.

Phil squeezes his leg. “Your doctor actually listening to you?” he says. “It’s a step forward, isn’t it?”

“I guess,” says Dan. “Until–”

His voice chokes off. His throat hurts suddenly. Psychosomatic symptoms, probably, a distant voice in his head tells him. It sounds too much like his old doctor, back in Wokingham, who would order one test after he’d begged for months, only to roll his eyes when it was done.

Something warm presses against his cheek. It takes Dan’s foggy brain too long to realize it’s Phil’s thumb, wiping a stray tear from his skin.

“Until what?” he says.

Dan shrugs. “Until the tests come back fine,” he mumbles. “They always do.”

Part of him expects Phil to think that would be a good thing. Most people do. His mum would still wrap him in her arms and claim it was time to celebrate, even as Dan’s chest felt like it was caving in. She’d buy him a new video game the next day, once she gave up on punishing him into going to school.

He wonders, now, if she knew he was sad, if part of her was trying to give him something else to do than lock himself in his room and cry his ribs sore.

“Hey,” says Phil. He’s squeezing Dan’s leg again. “Then we don’t need to celebrate. Just, I don’t know, eat dinner?”

He smiles, crooked and concerned. Dan manages half a smile in return.

“Okay,” he says. “Just dinner.”

Phil nods, a little quick and jerky and definitely nervous. “Just dinner,” he repeats. “The usual?”

Dan hums, and rests a grateful hand over Phil’s as he makes the call to place their order.

---

They curl up in bed that night, tucked under layers of blankets.

The pressure almost eases some of the tightness in Dan’s chest, some of the worries racing around the back of his mind. The pillow under his head smells like home. It makes some of the lingering memories of the doctor’s office, the sterility of it, start to fade.

Phil’s arm drapes across his side, draws him in, and it almost feels normal again.

Except Dan’s heart still feels heavy, achy and anxious. His mind doesn’t want to shut off. When he closes his eyes he pictures the press of a needle into his vein, the cool press of ultrasound gel against his skin, the foreign tunnel of an MRI machine.

He’s heard they’re terrifying. It feels wrong that part of him is excited for it.

Phil’s arm tightens around him, a palm splaying across Dan’s ribs. He’s holding his breath, he realizes, and lets it out with a shudder as Phil’s head dips to dust a kiss to his shoulder.

“You’re thinking too much,” he mumbles.

Dan tries to shrug, one shoulder pressed to his pillow and the other tucked beneath Phil. “Can’t stop.”

Phil hums. He sounds tired, the sleepy kind that Dan can never quite find. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

He doesn’t bother shrugging again, just lays there, staring at the white wall across from the bed that looks almost black with the lights off. Probably like the inside of an MRI machine. Or maybe not. Maybe there’s lights in there. Dan has no idea.

Phil’s hand skims down his side to rest on his stomach instead. “Can I talk about it?”

Dan swallows. “Go ahead,” he says.

He waits. Phil’s chin digs into his shoulder as he nods. His hand ghosts over Dan’s skin, back up his side and over his ribs and down to his stomach again. He wedges one of his legs between Dan’s, wrapping himself around him as though he’s scared whatever he has to say will make Dan want to run away.

The thought flits through Dan’s mind. Any anxiety fades just as quickly.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about this,” mumbles Phil. “Because I don’t know how you feel about this.”

Dan’s chest goes tight.

“And I was thinking that maybe you should talk to someone who’s been here for more of your, I don’t know, journey?” His hand presses almost harshly against Dan’s middle. His voice is a whisper, soft and shy, when he says: “I’ve only known you for a little while.”

“Feels like longer,” says Dan.

Phil smiles, lips dusting across Dan’s skin. “It does.”

A moment passes. If not for the continuous sweep of Phil’s thumb across his stomach, Dan might think he fell asleep. He almost wishes he had, except Phil’s been his best support system and, even though it makes his stomach churn, Dan wants to hear what he has to say.

“So who do you think I should talk to?”

Phil hums. “Dunno,” he says. “I would talk to my mum.”

Just the thought makes Dan’s chest ache. “No way,” he says, definitely too loud. “I can’t talk to her about this. I can’t– what if the scans show nothing again and–”

“Hey.” Phil presses against his stomach, holding Dan even closer. “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to.”

“I don’t want to,” says Dan. “Like really don’t want to.”

“Okay,” says Phil. “Okay. What about someone else?”

Dan swallows. Suddenly, this doesn’t feel like a night time, cuddled up in bed type conversation. He wishes he could see Phil’s face, all the hints that he’s actually just trying to help Dan.

“Like who?” he says. “And if you say my dad I’ll–”

“Not your dad,” says Phil. “I was thinking Taylor. She just went through something similar, didn’t she?”

“Oh.” He blinks at the wall. It’s still dark. “Yeah, I guess she did.”

There’s a puff of air against the back of Dan’s neck, a chuckle he doesn’t care to analyze too much. “Do you think she could help?”

Dan shrugs.

Phil hums. “Think about it,” he says. His arms shift around him, settling deeper into the mattress, heavier against Dan’s side, as though he’s ready to go to sleep now.

Dan blinks at the wall and wishes he felt the same.

He slips his fingers into the gaps between Phil’s, drags his hand up his body so it’s resting over his chest again, where parts of him feel like they might fall apart without something holding him together. Phil must be able to tell, because he presses another kiss to Dan’s shoulder, splaying his hand wide over the unsteady beat of Dan’s heart.

“Can I tell you something else?” he whispers.

Dan’s not sure why, but he doesn’t quite trust his voice anymore, so he nods.

Phil’s responding smile is pressed against his skin. “I’m still here for you, too,” he says. “No matter what, ‘kay? Even if I don’t know how to respond, you can always talk to me.”

Dan’s throat goes tight. His eyes burn. He nods again, wishing Phil could see his smile, because he knows exactly what three words he’d say if he tried to speak.

---

The hospital calls in the morning.

Dan stares at the unfamiliar collection of digits for so long it Phil needs to remind him the phone will stop ringing if he doesn’t pick up. His hands shake as he holds the phone to his ear, listening to a too-chipper secretary tell him they got his referral from his GP.

The MRI is booked for late next week.

Dan didn’t expect it to be that quick. Even x-rays have never been that quick. He wonders what Dr. Kissel wrote on his forms to get him in so soon, what scary possibilities are suddenly written in his file.

His knees are drawn to his chest, face pressed between them, when he hangs up the call. Phil’s hand is resting on his shoulder. It feels too distant. Part of Dan wants to bury himself in Phil’s arms again, sob away feelings that don’t make sense until he’s left feeling like he did a week ago.

Sore and kind of helpless, but not like this.

He doesn’t hug Phil, just sits there as Phil squeezes his shoulder and whispers: “You okay?”

Dan swallows. “MRI’s on Thursday,” he says. It’s not an answer.

Phil shifts closer like it is one. His hand drifts down, fingers brushing between Dan’s shoulder blades. Dan wonders if the MRI machine will go that far. He’s not even sure what Dr Kissel’s looking for, where she’s looking for it. Will it be just his head? His whole spine? Something else?

“Hey, breathe.”

Phil’s voice is low, close to Dan’s ear. His hand has flattened against Dan’s back, rubbing small circles that make Dan feel so very small, like he wants to curl up against Phil’s side and forget the rest of the world exists.

He’s wanted a doctor to order an MRI for so long. The weight of all his anticipation feels crushing now.

Dan lets his head fall to rest against Phil’s shoulder, tucking himself into the crook there because it feels safe. Phil, in all his anxious uncertainty about how to behave in a post-doctor’s appointment universe, is still the one thing that feels right.

His hand wraps around the upper part of Dan’s arm, where nerves are sensitive and the pressure aches, and holds on tight.

“You’ve had tests done before.”

“Never an MRI,” says Dan.

“Okay.” Phil squeezes his arm. It hurts. Dan doesn’t pull away. “What makes an MRI so different?”

“I don’t know.” says Dan, quick and automatic. “It’s, like, what they do for actual sick people.”

Under his head, Dan can feel the slow rise and fall of Phil’s chest, can just barely hear the faint beat of his heart. He’s steady, not like the unsure version of him that had held Dan tight last night and told him he had no idea how to help anymore, no idea how to understand what was going on in Dan’s head.

He takes a deep breath, holds onto Dan even tighter. “And you’re not an actual sick person?”

Dan’s whole body goes tight at the words. His breath feels like it’s been punched out of him. Phil squeezes his arm one more time, eliciting an even deeper ache there, and pulls away just enough that he can probably see Dan’s face. His eyes feel wide. His jaw feels tight.

Phil opens his mouth as though he wants to speak, but he doesn’t say a word.

He doesn’t have to.

Dan knows he doesn’t mean it that way. He knows that, out of all the people in his life, Phil would probably be the first to declare him an actual sick person.

He’d probably say it before Dan, even. Maybe that’s the problem.

Dan’s wanted to be considered an actual sick person even since the pain first welled in his joints and decided to never really go away.

He’s never been considered one before.

Phil’s hand lands on his back again, another soft touch, another gentle circle, to fill in the silence.

After a moment too long, Dan finally manages to even his breathing, and mutter a quiet: “I don’t know.”

---

Taylor comes over in the afternoon.

She has a bad thrown over her shoulder and her hair thrown up in a high ponytail. It doesn’t feel like that long since he last saw her, but it must have been. She looks so much healthier. Her eyes look bright and her shoulders less heavy. If Dan was a more touchy person, he’d wrap her in his arms.

He almost does anyway, except he blurts: “I didn’t invite you,” instead.

Taylor rolls her eyes. “I know,” she says. “Your guy did.”

Dan feels his cheeks flush. He wonders, briefly, if Taylor always made comments like that and he was just too in his own struggles to notice, or if the help she’s gotten has brought it out in her.

Will getting help bring anything out him?

“He’s not my guy,” he says, gaze flicking to where Phil had lingered in the corner of the lounge after letting Taylor in. He’s not there anymore. “He’s my, like, flatmate. And friend.”

She hums, low and doubtful. “Yeah, sure, just a friend.”

The implication clear. It makes Dan’s stomach twist, his mind drawing up memories of Phil’s arms around him, his lips pressed against Dan’s skin. Taylor’s still grinning at him. It makes him squirm in his seat.

She must notice, because her smile softens. “Fine, if you don’t want to talk about Phil, why don’t we talk about why he invited me here?”

He swallows, shrugging one shoulder. His fingers drag against his thighs, nails stinging against his skin, as he watches Taylor set her bag down and drop onto the couch, legs crossed and back pressed to the armrest. She reaches out and snags one of Dan’s hands, drawing it into the empty space between them.

It’s still slightly warm from when Phil was sitting there.

“Phil said the doctor’s appointment went well,” says Taylor. Her voice has gone soft and sympathetic. “But you’re not handling it very well?”

Dan shrugs. “I’m fine,” he mumbles.

Her responding laugh is nothing but a silent puff of air. “You couldn’t convince me with that back when we first met,” she says. “What makes you think you can now?”

“I’m better now?”

“You are,” says Taylor. “Doesn’t mean you’re doing great though.” She squeezes his hand. “What’s going on?”

Her voice has gone even softer. It’s enough to make tears sting behind his eyes.

“I don’t know,” he whispers. “I don’t know, like, how to trust that it’ll actually work out this time. I’ve met some not shit doctors before and yet–”

His chest goes tight, throat burning. Taylor’s thumb sweeps across his knuckles. It’s too much like when Phil does it.

“Yet here you are,” she says. “Living in Manchester with a boy who cares about you, doing better than–”

“If you’re about to pull some ‘oh, maybe it was all meant to be’ bullshit on me I’ll actually kick you out of my flat.”

Taylor rolls her eyes, smiling. “I wasn’t going to say anything like that,” she says. “Just, like, what’s the worst that can happen? You get no answers and come back to live with Phil, who I’m pretty sure would help you with literally anything.”

“Oh.” Dan shrugs. Things would be like they were before the appointment. Part of him wishes they were, except– “What if I can’t handle being told it’s nothing again?”

Taylor shrugs. “You cross that bridge when it comes,” she says. “Phil said this doctor was really nice, and I know he hasn’t been through everything you have, but he’s had his own shit, and he really wants this for you.” She squeezes his hand again. “I don’t think he’d be happy for you if he didn’t actually think it was going to work out.”

“So you’re saying I should be an optimist?”

“I’m saying I didn’t think seeing a counsellor would help but someone told me I should, and I’m sure as hell doing better,” says Taylor. “Give it a shot. And if it goes wrong, you have Phil’s shoulder to cry on.”

She smiles. Dan manages half a smile back. “I guess.”

He lets it stay silent for a moment, gaze flicking across the Wii’s pause screen, then Phil’s closed bedroom door.

“Can I ask you something else?” he says.

“Go ahead.”

“You said Phil–”

She chuckles. “Oh, so now you want to talk about Phil?” Her fingers slip from his to pat the back of his hand. “You need to talk to him if you want to know. Mostly cause he’s hardly told me anything. Otherwise, I’d actually consider giving you information about the guy you like.”

“I don’t–” he tries to say, but he’s never been a good liar. He can feel his cheeks flaming red, can see the grin split across Taylor’s face before he says anything.

And then they both start laughing.

---

“How was talking to Taylor?”

Phil settles onto the sofa next to him, tucking his socked feet under his legs. His hand lands on Dan’s knee and a slight smile ghosts across his lips, like he knows what Dan’s gonna say.

It’s probably obvious, even though the tight anxiety in Dan’s chest is starting to return.

“It was nice,” he says.

Phil’s lips quirk. “She seems like she’s doing well.”

Dan hums his agreement, catching Phil’s gaze with his own. “Is that supposed to be a hint that I should follow in her footsteps and, like, get help?”

Phil’s response is a shrug, playful and happy and Dan missed spending time with him like this, missed the ease of being friends. He wills the worries in the back of his mind to stay there, where they were shoved by his conversation with Taylor, knowing full well they won’t.

He can already feel them coming back, faint memories of how he’d collapsed into bed sobbing last time a doctor had turned him away, a pressure in his chest that wants to ask how Phil is. But before he can say anything, Phil’s hand is drifting across the back of the sofa cushions, his fingers sliding into Dan’s hair.

“Still not feeling well, huh?” he says.

Dan shrugs. “Sorry.”

Phil hums. “Don’t apologize,” he says. “But I, uh, had another idea?”

A silent chuckle rumbles in Dan’s chest. It makes his ribs hurt. “I’m pretty sure I’m gonna be anxious no matter what, Phil,” he says. “At least until I know what the tests say.”

“I know,” says Phil. This fingers are massaging at Dan’s scalp. Dan’s not even sure it’s conscious anymore. “I just think it could help to get some things off your chest. The type of thing you’re not ready to tell anybody, you know?”

“Oh.”

Phil shrugs. “I used to do it when I needed to,” he says.

The questions well in Dan’s chest again, but instead of saying anything, he lets Phil’s hand slip from behind his head to take his hand instead. He helps Dan off the couch without an explanation, smiling like he really believes this will help.

He thought talking to Taylor would help, and, well, it mostly did.

Dan squeezes his hand and lets Phil lead him down the hall.

They slip into Dan’s bedroom, where his black checkered duvet has hardly been touched in weeks and unfolded clothes hang messily from his chest of drawers. His laptop is open in the middle of the bed, and the pillows that remain in his room pressed against the wall into a makeshift sofa.

Dan’s grows furrow, turning to catch Phil’s gaze.

“I, uh, think you should film yourself talking about your feelings,” says Phil. Before Dan can even try to respond, he continues: “I know it sounds crazy, but it makes you feel like you’re actually, uh, talking about things, but you don’t actually have to tell anyone.”

It does sound crazy. If Phil didn’t seem so genuinely convinced, Dan might laugh. “So I’m just supposed to sit here and talk to myself?”

“Don’t you talk to yourself anyway?” says Phil, quirking a smile. “But, I don’t know, pretend you’re screaming into the void. Oh! Or pretend you’re a YouTuber.”

His cheeks go pink at the end. Dan almost does ask this time, except his knees are starting to ache and he’s too lazy to stay standing through the pain today. He sits down on the bed, scootches back so he’s resting against the cushions, and stares at the black screen of his laptop.

Phil comes over, and presses a quick kiss to his head. “Just try,” he whispers. “And if it doesn’t work we can just play Mario until bedtime, okay?”

Dan nods. He watches Phil step out of his room, closing the door behind him, before leaning over to sign onto his computer. It takes him a moment to find the webcam app, and an even longer one to gather the courage to hit record.

The first few moments of the video end up a long, awkward silence, as Dan tries to comb through his thoughts to find something he can actually say out loud to himself without being absolutely mortified.

He settles on taking Phil’s advice, forces a smile and says: “Hello, internet.”

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #flares #callie writes words

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fluffyllamas-23 · 6 years

Text

Guys, I started this like a month ago, I kid you not. I hope you enjoy it, I’m sorry if it sucks. Let me know what you think!

It’s funny how one moment can change your life. One moment can completely change everything.

Sophie isn’t sure what happened, she doesn’t really remember much. She just knows that one second, she’s driving along the road, and the next, her car is upside down, and white-hot, blinding pain is exploding throughout her entire body.

She drifts in and out of consciousness. She’s vaguely aware of people talking around her, but she can’t place where she is, or who they are, all she can focus on is the pain and how fuzzy she feels.

She hears someone screaming, and it takes a minute before she realizes it’s her.

When she wakes up next, she’s in an ambulance. It appears that pain medication has been administered, because pain is muted. It’s still there, though, because it feels like she’s throbbing and aching just below the surface, like it’s just waiting to emerge again.

Sophie brings her attention to the paramedics blinking heavily.

“You’re awake,” the one closest to her says, shining her pen light in Sophie’s eyes. “Can you tell me your name?”

“S-Sophie.”

Her voice sounds strange - jumbled and far away, like she’s just barely hanging onto consciousness. She feels it too, time has slowed down, and she feels like she’s underwater.

“Hi, Sophie. My name is Emma, we’re almost at the hospital, just hang in there. Do you remember what happened?”

Sophie squeezes her eyes shut. She can’t think straight no matter how hard she tries, and she’s beginning to panic, “I don’t…nnnngh…I c-can’t…um-”

“-okay, okay, it’s okay,” the paramedic who’s name is escaping her soothes, “just relax, you’re alright.”

“OH MY GOD, YOU CRASHED YOUR CAR?!” Annie shrieks, throwing Sophie’s hospital door open.

“Can you just…take it down a notch…or ten?” Sophie groans weakly, face screwing up in pain. Her head is throbbing, it almost feelslike someone has taken it in their hands and is squeezing it painfully.

“I’m sorry,” Annie whispers, eyes filling with tears when she finally gets a good look at her best friend. “A-are you okay? What happened? I mean obviously you’re not because you crashed your fucking car, but how badly are you injured?”

“Uh…pretty bad…I’m okay though.”

“You’re whispering. Why are you whispering?”

“Hurts…to talk…I, um…” she squeezes her eyes shut as she’s hit with a wave of pain, “I have a concussion and some broken ribs….um…my sh-shoulder is dislocated too.”

“Fuck,” Annie hisses, a grimace crosses her face. “Your face…does it hurt?”

“What’s wrong with my face?” Sophie asks, touching her cheekbone, and then grimaces when she touches a tender spot.

“It’s…really bruised…how many stitches did you need?” Annie grimaces, eyes raking over the white bandage above her right eyebrow.

“I dunno…lost count…s’it bad?”

“I mean…yeah,” Annie grimaces, and then her eyes zero in on the bandage across the bridge of her nose, and the bruises beneath her eyes, “Shit, did you break your nose, too?”

Sophie does a one shouldered shrug, careful not to agitate her other, injured shoulder “I guess.”

“I’m glad you’re okay…well not okay, but like…alive.“

Sophie nods, and then her eyes fly open and she shoots into a sitting position. She lets out a cry of pain and collapses back into the pillows.

“Shit…shit, shit, shit, shit…h-holy f-fuck,” Sophie hisses, tears pricking her eyes.

“What?! What happened? What do you need? Are you okay?” Annie panics, eyes widening.

“I was on my way to work,” Sophie groans, “what time is it?”

“Seven.”

“Can I borrow your phone?”

“You have a concussion, I don’t think you’re supposed to use your phone.”

“Just give me the phone,” she spits.

“I can call for you. Seriously, you should be resting.”

“I’m not an invalid, Annie,” Sophie grumbles, “I should call anyways, I ditched my shift.”

“You totaled your fucking car, you didn’t ditch your shift,” Annie says, handing Sophie her phone.

Sophie dials the number slowly, only having the use of one hand and the blurry vision is making it difficult to type in the number.

“Starbucks, this is Parker. How can I help you?”

“Hey, Parker…um…it’s Sophie.”

“SOPHIE! WHERE ARE YOU? WHAT THE HELL? We’ve called you a hundred times!”

Tears spring to her eyes as the volume aggravates her headache, “Too loud, Parker.”

“Where are you?” He demands.

“The h-hospital…nnngh…”

“Why are you in the hospital? Are you alright?”

“Can I speak to Lila, please?”

“Sophie. Why are you in the hospital?”

“I need to talk to Lila.”

“I’m finding her. Why. Are. You. In. The. Hospital?”

“I…um…I crashed my car.”

“….you what?!”

“I’m fine, just give me Lila.”

She’s biting back a cry of pain, because her head kills, and she just wants to go to sleep.

“Yeah, here she is, are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, Parker.”

“Well are you-“

“For the love of God, give the phone to Lila!” She explodes.

“Sophie?”

“Oh, thank God,” she breathes, “I’m gonna…um…I’m gonna keep this sh-short…nnngh…s-sorry, I…uh…I c-crashed my car this morning.”

The pain is excruciating, her pain meds are wearing off and her head feels like it’s about to explode.

“Are you alright?!” Lila asks, concern lacing her tone.

“No…not really. Uh…my-um…nnngh, s-sorry-“

“-how long are you going to need off?”

“…um…twelve weeks? I’m sorry, I know it’s a lot-“

The door opening cut her off, and she’s face to face with her nurse who looks very annoyed with Sophie.

“Take all the time you need, keep us up to date with your progress. Feel better.”

“Thank you.”

“Sophie,” her nurse chastises. “We told you no phone.”

“I had to call work.”

“How’s your pain?”

“Hurts,” she whimpers, tears springing to her eyes.

Annie is able to take her home after a few hours. Currently, Sophie is propped up on the couch, drowsy from her latest dose of pain meds.

There’s a knock on the door, and Annie tries to shut it immediately upon opening.

“No, no, wait!” Parker cries, shoving his foot in the door and pushing it back open, “I’m not going to leave. She’s my friend, I have a right to check on her.”

“Parker-“

“-Annie, stop,” Sophie mumbles tiredly.

Annie purses her lips but steps aside and gestures for him to come in.

Parker walks over to where Sophie is, and stops short when he finally sees her.

“You said you were fine!”

She grimaces, “…I may have downplayed a bit…”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“Hey. Keep your voice down,” Annie snaps.

Parker grits his teeth, “my voice is down.”

“Annie,” Sophie groans, closing her eyes.

“Sorry,” She mutters, crossing her arms, “I’m going to go to the store, Soph. Want anything?”

She shakes her head, “mnh-mnh.”

As soon as Annie is gone, Parker crouches in front of her. “Wh-what…what happened?” He asks, breathless.

“I flipped my car.”

“You…shit.”

“Someone sideswiped me…I swerved…hit the center divider and then flipped…at least that’s what they’re telling me…everything’s a bit hazy”

He exhales shakily, running a hand through his hair before falling backwards on his ass. “Lila said you’re going to be out for twelve weeks.”

She nods, yawning tiredly, “that’s how long it takes a dislocated shoulder to heal.”

“Dislocated…fuck.”

Sophie shifts her position, and then freezes, hissing in pain as grits her teeth and squeezes her eyes shut.

“What happened?” Parker demands, standing up and hovering over her.

“I broke a couple of ribs…m’fine…just hurts.”

“Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“Concussion…broken nose.”

He exhales sharply and then frowns, “Aw, Sophie, I’m so sorry. Do you hurt much?”

“S’not so bad with the painkillers…I just don’t wanna move because it’s uncomfortable.”

“Do you need anything?”

“No…I’m just tired.”

“Can you sleep? Is that bad with a concussion?”

She shakes her head and then lets out a little moan of pain, “…they gave me the go ahead, it’s fine.”

It doesn’t take long for her to fall asleep, and Parker immediately collapses in a chair. He never takes his eyes off her. He’s suddenly afraid to, as the gravity of just how bad the wreck was, and how bad it could have been hits him.

She could have died.

She could have died, and what would he have done?

The door opens a little while later, and he looks up briefly before he goes back to watching Sophie.

“How’s she doing?”

“She fell asleep about an hour and a half ago.”

“The medicine is supposed to knock her the fuck out, I’m surprised she lasted long enough to have a conversation.”

“She could have died,” Parker whispers, heart threatening to beat out of his chest.

Annie just nods, eyes filling with tears. She clears her throat and blinks them away before she turns around and begins putting the groceries away.

Parker looks back at Sophie, chewing on his bottom lip.

“How long are you going to be here?” She asks flatly.

“I know you don’t like me-“

“-You’re damn right I don’t,” she says, cutting him off.

He lets out a heavy sigh, “I know you don’t like me, but you’re going to need help.”

“I can-“

“-Annie, stop. You can’t honestly tell me that you’ll be able to take care of her on your own.”

Annie exhales sharply and glares at him, “I guess…I would…appreciate some help.”

He grins, “great!”

About four days after the accident, she feels herself beginning to come down with something.

She’s still achy from the accident, and her head still hurts from the concussion, so she doesn’t realize she’s getting sick until the sore throat sets in.

And then the congestion sets in (not that she could even breathe through her nose to begin with, but she can feel it behind her eyes and in her forehead), and she feels even worse than she thought possible.

By the time Parker walks through their door, she’s been up for hours.

“Morning!” He cries happily, holding two cups of coffee.

She just groans in response and hides her face in the pillow.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” When she doesn’t respond, he frowns and kneels beside her, “can you look at me?”

She presses her cheek to the pillow and looks at him groggily, “I think I’m sick.”

He feels her forehead and then sighs, “yeah, I think so too.”

His heart drops when he sees her eyes fill with tears. She blinks them away and sighs miserably, which sends her into a coughing fit. She yelps in pain and then chokes on a sob.

“Hurts,” she whimpers, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Shit…okay, medicine time, yeah?”

Annie walks out of her room, hot pink curls sticking up everywhere. Her mascara from the previous night is smudged, and she yawns sleepily as she drops down next to Sophie’s feet.

“You okay?” Annie asks, nudging Sophie with her toes.

“She’s sick.”

“What? NO,” Annie gasps, eyes wide as she looks at Sophie, “you must have picked something up from the hospital…are you okay?”

Sophie shakes her head, “I r-really…ihngxcht! Sonuvabitch!” She yelps, hand going to her abdomen and then face.

“Oh noooo,” Annie groans, sucking her teeth.

“You need some-“

“-Decongestants and cough meds,” Parker says, appearing in front of the two with a bottle of water and a blister pack of cold medication.

Annie peers up at him, her expression unreadable. He purses his lips, but then turns his attention back to Sophie.

Sophie sniffles and then grimaces as pain shoots through her nose and sinuses.

“Ow,” she groans.

“Here,” Parker says softly.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, clearing her throat. She lets out a little gasp of pain, and then closes her eyes.

She could definitely do without the cracked ribs - it had only been a couple of hours, and she was already done.

Parker can’t sleep. He can’t really do anything but wonder how Sophie is doing. He forces himself to go to class and work, even though he would rather be with her, making sure she’s okay. There’s a two hour window on Tuesdays and Thursdays where she’s alone, because he has classes back to back, and Annie has work.

It’s only been a week since the accident, and his thoughts are consumed with her. ��This was only the second day she’s been alone, and he already knows he’s going to be much more anxious on these days. He finds himself tapping his pencil and bouncing his leg while his thoughts drift back to Sophie. He just wants her happy and healthy again, and he can’t wait until she’s better again, because he misses working with her.

Finally, his professor dismisses his class, and he all but sprints back to her dorm.

“Hey! I’m back,” he says, slightly breathless.

“Hey,” Sophie croaks from her spot on the couch.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, walking over to her.

“About the same,” she mumbles, eyelids drooped almost completely shut.

He feels her forehead and frowns, “you’re still running a fever.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

“Still coughing?”

She nods, “yeah…but I try not to…hurts.”

“I know,” he sighs, cupping her cheek, “hey, isn’t Annie gone all night?”

“Mmhmm…she’s spending the night with her boyfriend.”

“So what do you want to do?”

“Die.”

He rolls his eyes, “okay, well what do you want to do that will distract you from wanting to die.”

“Ugh, I really don’t want to do anything, Parker.”

“I know…but…what about a movie night?”

“I’m just going to fall asleep.”

Parker furrows his brows, “well, that’s okay. I just want to take your mind off how you’re feeling.”

“I just…” her eyes well up with tears, “I don’t f-feel well…a-and I w-want this to stop.”

“I know, I know,” he soothes, smoothing her hair back, “you’ll feel better soon, you just need to get through this part.”

She nods, coughing lightly.

“I hate coughing,” she groans, blinking back the tears stinging her eyes.

“Do you want more medicine? When’s the last time you had any?”

“I dunno…s’been awhile.”

“Okay,” he nods, “I’ll get you some medicine, you pick a movie and I’ll get the blankets, sound good?”

“Mmm,” she mumbles, grimacing. She’s been lying in basically the same position for a week now, and she’s beyond uncomfortable. “Hey, Parker?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you…I’m really uncomfortable…um…help?”

“What’s wrong?” He asks, walking over to her.

She clenches her jaw, “everything hurts…I’m sick of being in this position, can you help me move?”

He nods, “yeah, um…maybe it’ll help to be propped up?”

“Maybe,” she mumbles, sniffling pitifully. She grimaces as pain shoots through her ribs, and Parker shoots her a sad look.

“I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.”

“S’okay…just…help me move?”

He nods, and starts trying to find a position that will alleviate some of the pain, but it seems like nothing is working. She’s in tears when Parker finally suggests that she sit up and lean against him. He doesn’t know what else to do, and he’s desperate to help her find relief.

It worked though, because she’s currently slumped against him, head on his chest as she sleeps. He has an arm around her and is stroking her hair, which is what he had done to help her fall asleep in the first place. Now that she’s asleep, he can’t bring himself to stop.

It’s at that moment that he realizes he doesn’t want to be anywhere else.

He hates she’s so sick, he hates she’s hurt, he hates she’s miserable and he can’t do anything about it.

She coughs herself awake - they’re deep, grating coughs that sound miserably painful, and he rubs her back soothingly.

“Breathe, Sophie.”

She shakes her head, taking gasping, shallow breaths between coughs. Deep breaths hurt, and she’s worried they’ll trigger another coughing fit, which she’s positive will hill her. Pain flares in her ribs and chest and throat, and she wishes that this would just kill her and get it over with, because death has gotta be less painful than this.

“Make it stop,” she whimpers, and then bursts into tears.

“That cough sounds really bad,” he grimaces, “worse than before…I think it might be time for the emergency room.”

“I don’t-“

She’s cut off by his hand pressed to her forehead, “-you’re still burning up. It’s not up for discussion, can you walk?”

“Um…yeah,” she mumbles, blinking tiredly.

“Don’t go to sleep, come on,” he says, patting her cheek gently, “up, Soph.“

“You love her, don’t you,” Annie says, crossing her arms as she stares at Parker.

“What? What are you talking about?” He asks, not bothering to even move his eyes from her face. The doctors at the emergency room had diagnosed her with bronchitis, and sent her home with antibiotics, cough suppressants and breathing treatments. She was fast asleep on the couch, and Parker hadn’t so much as gotten up to use the bathroom since he got her home.

“Come on, Parker,” she says, rolling her eyes, “why else have you been hanging around so much?”

“I have not-“

“-the only time you’re ever gone is if you’re at work, school, or grabbing stuff from your apartment. You wouldn’t be so…attentive…to her if you didn’t have some feelings for her.”

“I…she almost died.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I…uh…yeah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, eyes flicking back to her face, “I think I might…I just…I can’t stop thinking about her.”

Annie purses her lips, “so are you going to tell Sophie?”

“Tell me what?” Sophie asks groggily, blinking herself awake.

Annie shoots Parker a glare before disappearing into her room.

“I…so…you remember when…I said I just wanted to be friends?”

“Mmm…yeah.”

“I think…that might not be the case anymore.”

Her eyes immediately fill with tears, “you don’t want to be friends anymore? What…what did I do? Wh-why d-don’t you want to be my friend?”

“I do! I do, Sophie, relax.”

She blinks at him, “then…huh?”

“I like you…a lot.”

“No you don’t,” she mumbles, eyelids drooping.

“…What?”

“You just…you’re just scared because I died…um…almost died, sorry,” she mumbles, blinking heavily.

“No, I-“

“-S’okay, Parker…you don’t have to do this.”

“…I’m confused…I thought you wanted-“

“-I want to date you, I do…but I want you to want to date me for reasons other than me almost…like…dying.”

He sighs, “look, I get where you’re coming from, but I’m telling you it’s not just because we almost lost you.”

She shoots him a flat look, “if I hadn’t crashed my car, this conversation wouldn’t even be happening…just…let me get better, and if you still like me…then we’ll talk.”

Parker purses his lips, “okay…fair enough.”

She yawns, rubbing at her left eye with the heel of her hand, “m’exhausted.”

“Get some sleep,” he says softly, trying to ignore the aching in his chest.

She nods, and then, she’s asleep.

#OCs #Sophie and Parker #sickfic #hurtfic #coughing #fever #I swear I've looked at this so many times that I'm sick of reading it and so I apologize if it's not edited completely lmao #thanks to all my friends who helped me with this #i know there are a few of you lol #but i can't remember who

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outtacommission · 7 years

Text

as long as you’re with me

pairing: keith/lance

words: 2.1k

rating: g

summary: Lance wants to make the best of their layover. Keith’s just sick and tired.

Ao3

“I can’t believe we’re stuck here for four hours.”

“Oh, stop complaining. It won’t be that bad.”

Lance barely hears the muttered, “Yes, it will,” behind him, and chooses to ignore it. Keith can be super pessimistic sometimes, and he’s just grumpy because he has the sniffles. It’s unfortunate timing, for sure, but Lance is sure it won’t put too much of a damper on their vacation. At this point, not even a four hour layover could ruin his mood.

He wraps an arm around Keith’s shoulders and gives him a dopey grin. “The important thing is that we’re together.”

Keith huffs indignantly but presses himself a little closer regardless. “There’re too many people.”

Lance laughs. “It’s an airport, babe, and it’s Christmas. Everyone’s trying to get home.”

“I know.”

Lance frowns. He doesn’t want Keith to be down—he’s bringing him to meet his family for the first time, so he understandably wants his boyfriend to be as excited as he is, but right now he just seems gloomy and depressed. “How about we go get some hot chocolate?”

Keith sniffs and drags his wrist under his nose. “Okay.”

Lance takes his hand and they make their way through the crowded terminal. They’re both dressed warmly in winter coats and scarves and Keith’s got on his favorite beanie (the one Lance gave him for his birthday last year), and they’re both hauling their school backpacks, although Keith is beginning to look like he’s wilting under the weight of his.

Lance tries not to feel guilty. He’d been nagging Keith for so long about coming home with him for the holiday. He wanted him to meet is family and see his hometown, and it’s their junior year of college, so it’s really about time. He knows Keith isn’t fond of crowded, energized atmospheres, but he’s sure he’ll have a great time regardless.

Or at least he was. This morning, the morning they were flying out, Keith woke up with a sore throat and a stuffy nose and Lance had loaded him up with medicine and orange juice, but it doesn’t seem to have helped yet. Keith hadn’t acted like he was feeling too bad earlier that morning, though, so Lance isn’t really worried. He’s just disappointed his boyfriend has to deal with a cold on top of all the holiday crowds—it’s been hell on his mood. Which only makes Lance more determined to make sure they have a great time together despite the layover.

Keith waits over by a bench while Lance forces his way into the crowded cafe to get in line. It takes a while, but he buys two hot chocolates and a pastry to share and then battles his way out again. He finds Keith sitting on the bench, folded over on top of his backpack with his eyes closed.

Lance’s brow furrows. He can hear him breathing through his mouth, apparently too congested to do it through his nose. His cheeks look a little flushed, too, now that Lance is looking closely.

He lays a hand on his shoulder. “Keith? You asleep?”

Keith lifts his head and blinks blearily, gaze unfocused and hair all mussed up from where his hat got pushed back. “Huh?”

Lance sits down beside him and starts fixing his hair. “I got the hot chocolate. You must be really tired if you fell asleep in the middle of all these people.”

“Mm.” Keith bats his hands away and tugs his beanie up.

“You okay?”

“M’fine.”

Lance frowns. His voice is raspier than it had been before. “How are you feeling?”

With a deep sigh, Keith sinks back until his head is resting against the wall. “I’ll be okay. Can I have my hot chocolate?”

Lance hands it over, and he can’t help but notice the way Keith’s hands shake a little as they take the cup from him, the way he shudders when he brings it close to his chest. Maybe he had underestimated this cold his boyfriend was coming down with. “Are you cold?”

“Yeah.” He raises the cup to his mouth and takes a hesitant sip.

Well, that’s not good. Lance is sweating in his coat in the midst of all these bodies, and he knows that Keith runs warmer than he does.

He chews his lip and thumbs the tab on his drink absentmindedly, thinking about the best course of action. They’ve packed a little cold medicine, but there’s a convenience shop down the hall that he could check out too.

Keith sinks down a little further on the bench, mouth disappearing behind the folds of his scarf, and coughs wetly. Lance reaches out to press his palm against the ailing boy’s forehead and blinks in surprise when he’s met with an intense, dry heat. He’s pretty sure colds usually don’t warrant a fever this high.

Keith gives him an odd look when Lance doesn’t remove his hand. “You feel really warm,” he explains. “Seriously, how are you feeling?”

The dark haired boy sighs and sniffles pitifully. “Worse than this morning. I’m achy and my head hurts and it’s fucking freezing in here.”

Lance frowns. “Let’s go get settled at the gate and I’ll go see if I can find you some medicine.”

“I have medicine.”

“Yeah, Airborne. You need something for your fever. Besides,” Lance says, moving his palm down to Keith’s cheek, “I’m not sure this is just a cold anymore.”

Keith lets out a soft, stopped-up groan. “Okay.”

Lance takes Keith’s backpack and shoulders it before helping him slowly to his feet. When he’s standing, he coughs again—small, choked noises that sound like he needs to hack up the gunk in his lungs but lacks the strength to put the force into them to get it out. Lance’s face softens in sympathy and he rubs his back before they start towards their gate.

Keith sticks closely to Lance’s side while they walk, holding his cup close to his face and stifling coughs and sniffles in his scarf (which Lance mentally notes to throw in the washer as soon as they get to his house). There’s a nice, quiet corner open by the window with an outlet, so Lance makes sure Keith gets comfortable in one of the chairs with his laptop before kissing his too-warm forehead and venturing out into the terminal again.

The shop is a five minute walk away from their gate, but he power-walks and makes it in three. The medicine shelves are off to the side by the register. Lance plants his hands on his hips and scans the selection quickly with his eyes. There isn’t as much as he thought there would be.

He picks up and bottle of Tylenol and a box of DayQuil to compare, but they both look good to him so he decides to buy both. He also gets a thermometer, a box of fever patches with Disney designs on them, tissues, some instant soup, and a cheap fleece blanket patterned with plaid. They might be stuck in an airport, but he’s going to make sure Keith gets as much care as he can give him. He really, really wants him to be well to enjoy time with the family.

The cashier looks surprised when he dumps it all on the counter.

“My boyfriend is tragically ill,” Lance explains with a forlorn sigh and more melodrama than is required. “I’m desperately trying to nurse him back to health.”

The girl behind the register gives a small laugh as she bags his purchases and rings up the total. “Ah. Well, I hope he feels better soon.”

Lance gives the girl a humble smile and a nod. “I’m sure your well-wishes will go a long way in his recovery.” Then he pockets his wallet and takes the bag, backing up toward the exit. “Merry Christmas!”

The cashier returns the sentiment with a wave and a raised eyebrow and Lance is out the door, picking up his pace until he’s nearly sprinting down the terminal, dodging pedestrians and luggage carts.

He finds Keith exactly how he left him, except he’s stowed his laptop and fallen asleep again. Even in his sleep he looks grumpy, slumped down in the seat with his arms folded and head lowered. He’s pulled his hood up over his head, beanie and all. Lance can tell he’s still shivering.

With a soft smile, he begins to unload the bag. He pulls the tags off the blanket and spreads it over the ill boy, carefully tucking it in around his shoulders and sides.

Keith’s eyes flutter open groggily. “Lance…? What’re you doin’?”

“Got you some stuff.” He tears open the packaging on the thermometer and turns it on. “Open up, babe.”

Keith complies and lets Lance settle the instrument under his tongue. He gives a few closed-mouth coughs, obviously trying his best to suppress them.

Lance hums sympathetically and brushes back a piece of black hair that had fallen between his eyes. “Poor Keith. I’m sorry you don’t feel well.”

His boyfriend only grunts.

The thermometer beeps seconds later and Lance takes it out. He frowns deeply at the reading. “102.8. Looks like you got the flu or somethin.’”

Keith lets out a long, miserable groan and lets his head fall back on the seat. “M’sorry, Lance. I don’t wanna be sick for vacation.”

“It’s not your fault.” Lance rubs his shoulder soothingly. He won’t deny that he’s pretty disappointed. He had a lot of plans for their vacation together in his hometown, and now it looks like Keith will be spending most of it laid up in bed. But, ever the optimist, he doesn’t dwell on the things they’ll miss out on. “Now I’ll just have to take extra good care of you. And you’ll get to eat my mama’s special soup. There’s hardly any downsides for you, really. My family’s the best at taking care of sick people.”

Keith tips over until his head is resting on Lance’s shoulder. “I don’t want to be all miserable and snotty when I meet them for the first time, though.”

“They’ll love you anyway. Don’t worry, everything’ll be fine. We’ll have a great time. I promise.”

“F’you say so.”

“I do. Now, sit up. You need to take your medicine.”

With a little grumbling, Keith gets mostly upright again and lets Lance feed him pills and water. When Lance pulls out the box of fever patches, he gets a skeptical look on his face. “Did you buy me…Disney gel sheets?”

“Yep.” Lance opens the box. “Take off your hat.”

“I’m not using those things.”

“Uh, yes you are.”

“Lance, no I’m not.”

“Keith. Your fever’s crazy high. This is gonna make you feel better.”

“I’ll look ridiculous.”

“Who cares? You don’t know any of these people, and you’re sick. You’ll feel a lot better if we can get your fever down. Don’t be so stubborn.” He pulls out a patch. “Hey, look! This one’s got Pluto on it.”

Keith heaves weary sigh. “Okay, fine. But you’re not allowed to take any pictures.” He pulls off his hood and beanie and moves his hair aside.

“Deal.” Lance smoothes the patch on Keith’s hot forehead and combs his bangs back into place. “You wanna eat something? I got some soup.”

Keith coughs, a crackling noise coming from deep in his chest. “Not hungry.”

“We can save it for later, then. Um…” He looks around, trying to think of other things he can do to make Keith comfortable. His eyes land on the laptop. “Wanna watch a movie?”

The sick boy shrugs. “Sure, I guess.”

After a bit of shuffling, Lance convinces Keith to get settled down on the floor against the wall. He puts his neck pillow around his shoulders and covers him with the blanket again. Keith’s cheeks redden past the fever-blush from the close care and attention Lance is showering on him, but he doesn’t resist any efforts. Maybe he’s really feeling that poorly, or maybe fevers make him sappier than normal. Either way, Lance isn’t complaining.

Keith slumps against him when they get the laptop set up and School of Rock starts playing. Lance already knows Keith won’t stay awake through the whole movie, but that’s not a bad thing. He needs all the rest he can get before they board their flight.

He plants a kiss on the top of his boyfriend’s head. This really isn’t so bad. They might be stuck in an airport for four hours with Keith conveniently coming down with the flu, but at least they’re together. They’ll be at home with his family before the day is out, and they’ll enjoy their very first Christmas together. Lance will be happier when Keith starts feeling better, but he really doesn’t have much to complain about.

He feels Keith’s soft, even breathing against him and lays his cheek against the top of his head. He’s sure this will be the best Christmas ever.

#Voltron: Legendary Defender #klance #sickfic #my fic #no one asked for this but here it is

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angst-king · 3 years

Text

Misery loves Company

((this is a chronic illness AU for BNHA, no quirks. Tw contains mention of vomit, and seizuring) He wakes up every morning feeling tired, achy, and weak. His throat is sore and his nose is stuffy, his breathing is very wheezy and labored. He grumbles but that doesn’t stop his morning routine coughing fit. He would cough and cough until his body decided it was done, or that he was gonna throw up like today. Gagging after one last cough, he covered his mouth with one hand and grabbed the trash can with the other and vomited. This is the time Ito comes in to check on him. Knocking on the door, she calls out. “Eijirou honey, you awake?” Through a raspy voice when he could stop vomiting he would answer “yes! I’m awake” Which would be followed by another coughing fit, today though he felt worse. His head was hurting, his throat was very painful and scratchy, his entire body was so weak that just sitting up was a chore. He was cold and feld more congested than usual. Ito opens the door a little as she hears her son coughing, peaking in she frowned seeing Eijirou coughing.

She’d grown used to this a few years ago but that didn’t keep her numb from feeling so bad for this boy. Her morning routines always consisted of checking up on her son to see how he was feeling, seeing if he needed help with getting ready in the morning or just checking his vitals. She approaches her son and sits besides him rubbing his back in gentle soothing circles with soft pats to help him cough. “Good job Eiji, good. I know this sucks first thing in the morning.” She says in a quiet voice to calm him, when he stopped coughing, she then asked. “Feel like you might vomit again, hun?” Eijirou shook his head before making a little whimpering sound, Ito got up and went to grab the trash can and tell him. “I’ll go and clean this out, let yourself rest before you start doing anything okay.” Clearing his throat Eijirou nods and lays back into the pillows of his bed. Ito walks out of his room leaving the sick boy alone to clean out the trash can.

While she was gone, Eijirou assessed his current condition and how he was feeling. He felt like utter crap at the moment and he’s been feeling like this for about a week now and he knows that if he gets any worse then he’ll end up in the ER. He doesn’t wanna go there, and he and Ito have made an agreement that if he gets too sick for a certain amount of days or shows a horrific change in symptoms then no matter if he wants to or not, he needs to go to the ER. He hoped he wouldn’t get that bad but with the way he was feeling today it may be a slim chance but so far it's been a steady flare, no fever high fever, no persistent seizures, vomiting, or struggling to breath but. Today he felt worse, maybe by ten percent but that wasn’t a bad thing? It would sort itself out right? Oh he hoped it would.

He knew he needed to take his medicines but he was so tired that he just went back to laying down. Rubbing his temples he sunk back under the warm inviting covers. Sighing he pushed his messy case of bedhead out of his face, closing his eyes hoping to go back to sleep. He really needed to rest as vomiting like that took the energy out of him. By the time Eijiro had fallen completely asleep again his mom had come back, she sighed seeing him asleep. She came over and set the trash can back in its usual spot for just in case reasons and reached over to feel Eijirou’s forehead. It was a tad bit warm but this was normal with a flare up, as long as it didn’t get any worse he would just have to let this run its course.

There were many days where Ito felt so bad for Eijirou. On nights where he was coughing up his dinner, or having a seizure day, or was in so much pain that it made him seizure and tremor the entire day. Where it left him wheelchair bound, where it brought Eijirou to his knees with small tears raining down his flushed face. She was there for him, she was there to witness the good, the meh, the bad and the horrible. She wished every night for a miracle that at least one of his illnesses would just disappear and never come back! Though she knew it wasn’t possible, that didn’t stop her from praying every night. She was so proud, her son was so strong for being so brave and not giving up due to his conditions.

Letting him sleep in, the teen didn’t wake up until ten thirty am, now he really needed to start his medicines. He didn’t feel any better but there was no point in procrastinating even if he didn’t have much motivation or strength to do it. So he got ready for the day, getting out of bed on shaky aching legs, he had to hold onto the night stand so he could stand up properly. He made his bed partially enough for if he wanted to crawl back in it or just lay on top of it. Then he went and brushed his teeth to try and get the horrible acidic taste of vomit out of his mouth and washed out the slimy mucus in his mouth. Blowing his nose to try and give himself a chance to breathe through his nose was a fruitless attempt. Leaving his hair down for this he just tied some of it back and out of his face. He wasn’t going to bother changing out of his pajamas, that was way too much effort that would most likely go to waste today.

Before he started his medicines and airway clearing therapy, he grabbed his thermometer from the nightstand and took his temperature. Keeping the tool under his tongue until it beeped, muffling coughs long enough for the results. “39 c (100.5 F) not bad at all, this is normal for days like this” He sighed while talking to himself, he wiped the thermometer with a sanitizer wipe and put it back in its tiny casing and back on the nightstand. He then gets up and heads over to his closet and grabs his vibrate vest and kit, he also grabs his medicines for his breathing treatment therapy. Moving around wasn’t helping his head ache, his coughing, or his aching limbs but. Things had to be done and he didn’t wanna ask his mom to get stuff for him, he didn’t think that was manly.

First he slipped the vest on, then grabbed his nebulizer and put in the medicines before turning on both machines. He sticks the nebulizer into his mouth and grabs at his nose, shutting it so the medicine would go down and into his lungs. The vest vibrated his entire body like a massage chair but not for the same usage. The vibration of the vest was to shake up the mucus enough for him to cough it up, the breathing treatment thinned it out so he wasn’t coughing up such thick sludge. It was an hour long process of hacking and coughing but he wanted to get better. It felt like there was more mucus for him to cough up though, like his body was just getting sicker. The hour long process had him spent in the end, he was still gasping for air and his lungs still felt clogged. His throat was on fire, and his arms were trembling so much.

Even though he didn’t want to, he got ready for breakfast. He grabbed his epilepsy medicine, his vitamins, and his other cystic fibrosis medications, and went down to the kitchen. Each step he takes causes shock waves of tingles and pain up his legs, but it's tolerable. Finally getting downstairs he sees Ito in the kitchen video chatting while drinking her coffee. “Hi momma, who ya talking to?” He asked after clearing his throat, she looked over and smiled “I’m talking to mommy” She said gesturing to her phone, Kirishima peered over and gave a tired smile seeing his other mom through the video chat. “Hi Eiji, momma told me you’re not feeling too good.” “hey mommy, y-yeah I’m not feeling all that great today, haven’t been for almost a week now but, it’ll pass like always.” He reassures his moms as he sets his medicines down on the kitchen island, he goes into the fridge and grabs a chocolate protein shake.

He goes back to the island while his parents talk and he takes his medicine. “I hope so Eiji, but you always manage to pull through.” “yup, he’s tough just like you Emily.” Ito chuckles, smiling fondly while ruffling Eijirou’s hair playfully. “You mean you Ito dear, I don’t know how you do it, I don’t know how I’d do it all on my own with him.” “That's what I thought, but I managed.” Looking over at Eijirou as he swallowed his pills, Ito makes the comment “Eiji honey, I think you’ve been losing weight.” Raising a brow at this, Eijirou looked down at himself and shrugged “maybe?” Emily giggles and comments “Eiji you need to pay more attention to your body, i know that weight loss isn’t gonna be very visible for you since you live in your pajamas most of the time.” Eijirou nods before grunting and putting down the half-drink protein shake to grab at his head. Ito knew something was wrong when he did this “you okay hun?” “N-no, my head hurts so much.” He coughed and began to stumble, Ito immediately grabs ahold of him, she knows what’s gonna happen next and sets Eijirou on the floor. “Sweetheart, I need you to lay down okay, you’re gonna have a seizure.” Ito instructs, Eijirou lays on his side like he always did in these situations. It made it harder for him to breath but this was safer than laying on his back or stomach. Ito stood up momentarily to tell Emily she’d call her later, Emily understood the situation and wished them luck.

It was just as Ito turned her phone off when Eijirou began to convulse on the floor. Ito rushes down to help him, keeping him on his side, holding his head so it doesn’t bang against the wood floors. There wasn’t much she could do for him except keep him safe. She has to wait this out and luckily she doesn’t have any appliances running except the fridge so there’s no worry of time. When the seizure ended she sighed in relief, he was safe to move. So she lifted him up and into her arms and carried him up the stairs back to his room. Putting him on his bed she lays him on top of the covers and plays the pillows in a way to keep him on his side so he can’t roll over and suffocate. When she could, she would stay with Eijirou during his recovery times, especially times where he was feeling extra ill. Once he was situated on his bed, she went into his closet and grabbed his medical supplies bag that had stuff for going out places. The boy is homeschooled but he could go places like the store, restaurants, and other places but. He always wore a mask in those types of places and was rather cautious.

Grabbing the weighted blanket from the bag she loosely places it on Eijirou knowing it would keep him relaxed when he wakes up. She checked his temp with an ear thermometer when he’s not awake enough to use an oral one. It was still 39 c (100.5F), but it didn’t rise. Now she had to wait for him to wake up which shouldn’t take very long. She stayed on the bed with him, combing her fingers through his messy tangled red hair. She couldn’t help but think of how much her son looked with red hair. At first his hair was black like hers and Emily's but he wanted to dye it red because he needed a change to make him feel a little less miserable. His favorite music artist, Crimson riot, had red hair and he’d becomes Kirishima’s idle cause he promoted the great idea that ‘everyone’s got set back, it's what you do about it that counts, do your best and live your life without regrets’ Eijirou loved it so much he lived by in and in his own words that’s how he wanted to be as a man and in one word he called it manly. Some think it's silly but this was one of the few things keeping him alive.

When Eijirou woke up, he was dazed and confused. Looking around he sees his mom and hesitantly reaches out for her, touching her arm to alert her he’d woken up. Ito’s eyes dart down at him and she smiles “hey there Eijiro” eijirou returns the smile with a tired one of his own before he says. “i-i’m gonna go to sleep..m’tire” His words slurred with exhaustion and his eyes drooped. Ito nods, kisses her son’s forehead and gets up from the bed. “Alright love, I’ll let you rest okay, seems like you need it.” Getting comfortable on the bed and curling up under his weighted blanket, he coughs himself back to sleep.

#chronically ill Kirishima #kirishima has two moms #chronic illness au #bnha

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