#fic: dramamine

[deathblacksmoke]

Dramamine—Part 9

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Nick Ruffilo

Series Summary: Cynical, brooding bartender Nick meets too-earnest, pretty boy singer Noah when The Rabbit's Foot starts hosting an open mic night.

CW: a little bit of angst and self-doubt, a little bit of backstory, self-serving pretty flowery apologies, and i made the boys kiss again

*Content warnings are updated by chapter*

Word Count: 1.7K

dividers by @cafekitsune 💐

He’s about ready to own up to it when Autumn walks in, admit what he’s done and face the consequences. He’s pissed her off before and survived — he doesn’t doubt he can do it again.

She sidles up beside him at the register and he’s going to tell on himself when she says something that makes his eyes widen. “Nick texted you?”

His mind reels, wondering how she knows. When he glances over, he’s expecting anger in her expression, or at the very least annoyance. Instead he finds her smiling at him, expression soft.

“How did you know?” he inquires, wracking his brain for an explanation but coming up with nothing. His stomach turns when he envisions Autumn pounding on the door of Nick’s house, or barging into the bar, berating a stranger for something that shouldn’t be her problem. Autumn, as always, coming to his rescue when he can’t do it himself.

He feels sick.

“Do you remember my friend Jasmine?” Autumn offers, and there’s a beat when he questions the relevance of the question. He remembers her vaguely — she and Autumn were friends while Noah was living in Baltimore, a coworker from the university. They’d met once, when Noah came home for the weekend, but he didn’t stick around. It just didn’t feel like home anymore. He was happy that she had someone like Jasmine to fill the void he’d left when he vanished.

He distantly wonders why they don’t see each other anymore before his heart drops, remembering what happened to her. He sees her face, his mind traveling to the photo on the end table in Nick’s living room. Her pretty dark hair, her kind smile.

He doesn’t know how he didn’t connect it, and he feels painfully foolish. Not knowing what else to say, he nods.

“He’s a good guy, Noah,” Autumn utters, a sigh on the edge of her voice as if she hates to admit it. He knows that she’s right, and just recently he would have done anything for her to think so, but right now it makes him feel like he’s out of people on his side. He still needs her on his side. “He’s been through a hell of a lot, but he wants to fix this.”

He imagines how the conversation might go tonight. His mind conjures the image of an apology, at Autumn’s instruction, but yet another letdown. It isn’t the first time someone hasn’t wanted him, and he’s sure it won’t be the last. Already, he’s itching to disappear again. Asheville might be nice this time.

It already took everything in him to come back here. It took even more out of him to open his heart again, and he really thought he’d picked the right one this time — it felt right, didn’t it?

His mind shifts suddenly back to the last time something felt right, the overwhelming joy he’d felt, and rapidly to the look on Aiden’s face when Noah had the nerve to ask if he wanted to get married, to the bellowing laughter and the pity painted across his face that read oh, you poor thing. When he got home from work the next day, half of the apartment was emptied out. He didn’t see him again, but every inch of Richmond stunk of the 3 years of memories they made together.

He knows what it’s like to want to disappear. He knows how hard it is to come back. It isn’t the same, but he knows how it feels for your life to stop dead in its tracks.

It’s a little past 8 already, anxiety bubbling up in his gut as he’s pacing back and forth across his living room. There’s a part of him hoping that Nick doesn’t show, leaving Noah to fill in the blanks on his own, fizzling out slowly and painfully but without a direct and detailed hit to his ego.

Autumn and the guys have gone out to give them privacy, and the thought of being left alone for even a moment after Nick shatters him all over again makes his chest ache. He doesn’t want them to be here to watch it happen, but he still wishes they’d stayed. He can’t be by himself.

His spiral is interrupted by three knocks in quick succession.

He’s nauseated, shaking with nerves, but he can’t deny that he misses Nick. He misses his face, his voice, the way his lips spread into a smile seemingly against his will. At least he’ll get to see him one last time before he disappears from Noah’s life for good, another black mark on his romantic history.

When he swings the door open with shaking hands, he finds himself unprepared for what he sees on the other side. Nick, looking more timid than Noah’s ever seen him, with a hastily put together bouquet of flowers and the most hopeful expression in his eyes.

It’s not at all what he expected.

“I’m sorry I’m a little late, I—” Nick starts, unsteady on his feet and jittery. Noah won’t let himself get his hopes up, but the urge to reach out and touch him is almost unbearable. This was a terrible idea. “I didn’t ask Aut what flowers you like, so…I hope you like hydrangeas.”

He envisions Nick at the shop, agonizing over which flowers to choose to let Noah down easy. He imagines him speaking with a kind stranger who passes by behind him, asking for advice, hurriedly placing together blue hydrangeas, baby’s breath, eucalyptus leaves, and hoping for the best as he rushes out. It’s a lot of effort to put into a heartbreak.

And Noah does love hydrangeas. An awfully pretty flower to sit in a vase on his coffee table to taunt him as he agonizes through his loss.

He guides Nick inside and tries not to let his mind drift backwards to their last encounter on this couch. It’s a struggle every time he’s in this room, not letting himself relive every moment, the floating feeling to the sinking, empty nothing.

They should have done this somewhere else. He’s not looking forward to adding another painful memory to the living room’s history, especially if he wants to stick around after this one.

Each second Nick spends fiddling with his hands instead of making eye contact and getting on with it drags. The bouquet sits sadly on the coffee table and he wonders if he should busy himself with putting them in a vase with water, a distraction from the impending whatever, but he doesn’t want to waste the water. He should probably throw them out.

“You can rip the band-aid off, Nick,” Noah starts, and he isn’t expecting the surprised and hurt expression that casts itself across Nick’s face. His eyes get so sad, concern obvious, and it’s only then that Noah wonders if this might be a different kind of visit altogether. Even through the overwhelming feeling of dread, he feels awfully soft for him. “It’s okay, Nicky, I’m listening.”

“I’m so sorry that I made you feel like I didn’t want you, or that you weren’t making me happy,” Nick starts, and Noah feels as the weight begins to lift off his shoulders, as the tightness in his chest loosens. Nick takes a few deep breaths, a sort of shaky breathing that Noah recognizes. He doesn’t want to let himself have hope, but he watches as the nerves he recognizes in Nick take a different shape than he’d expected. “I haven’t been that happy in a long time, Noah, and I didn’t think it was something that I deserved. It scared the shit out of me.”

It’s against Noah’s own will when the tears start falling. There’s a tiny but clawing part of him that still thinks this is bad—that these flowery, pretty apologies are just an elaborate setup for a letdown that makes Nick look good at the end of it all. When Nick reaches out to place a shaky hand hesitantly on Noah’s knee, still speaking but Noah can’t make out a single thing through all the whooshing in his ears, Noah feels hope for the first time. He forces himself to focus.

“I’m sorry, I’m listening,” Noah says, and the smile Noah loves shows itself for the first time this visit—a wide grin spreading across Nick’s face although his nerves are still so blatant. Nick reaches out to touch Noah’s face, and he almost wants to shy away but doesn’t. He lets Nick trace a thumb over his cheek, wipe away his tears, just in case this is the last time he can have this.

“I know I still have a lot to do to make it up to you, but you deserve to be really happy, and I want to be the one to make you happy,” Nick says, and there’s such sincerity in his tone that it’s unmistakable. There are tear tracks down his cheeks, too, and Noah knows he means it. “If you’ll let me give it a try. I may not be any good.”

It’s something they’ll have to talk about further. They’ll have to spend a lot of time working through it, and Noah will have to give him a lot of shit, but his focus narrows in on one thing. And that’s having him.

He scoots himself closer to Nick, watches him relax as Noah places a hand on his cheek. 

“I would never ask you to unlove her,” Noah says, to which Nick is quick to nod. “Just talk to me. Make a little room for me.”

“I promise I will,” Nick responds, placing a hand over Noah’s on his cheek and the poor thing is still shaking. Noah hasn’t felt so steady in a long time.

He pours his heart into the kiss they share, finding himself praying that they can keep this. That for once, he can get what he wants. He feels that hope grow just that little bit bigger when Nick’s lips move to his cheek, a sigh of relief pressed into the skin of Noah’s face.

“No boy has ever bought me flowers before,” Noah whispers, feeling Nick’s grin spread once more, pulling Noah ever closer.

tags: @concretenoah . @circle-with-me . @darksigns-exe . @ladyveronikawrites . @agravemisstake . @monotoniscreaming . @cookiesupplier . @bngurngheart . @jiizzy . @screamsinsilver . @iknownothingpeople . @anameunmusical . @sitkowski . @baddestomens . @itsafullmoon . @collapsedglasshouses

#bad omens fic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens rpf #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian rpf #nicholas ruffilo fic #nicholas ruffilo fanfiction #nicholas ruffilo rpf #nick ruffilo fic #nick ruffilo fanfiction #nick ruffilo rpf #noah sebastian x nick ruffilo #noah sebastian x nicholas ruffilo #deathblacksmoke works #fic: dramamine

[aparticularbandit]

yeah, i get car sick, so i can make all this cool stuff, but i can't use any of it, you know?

i-i-i can fix that.

pretty sure it's not a thing you can fix, but thanks for--

they make! good drugs! for...that!

what drugs

THIRTY MINUTES LATER

THIS IS THE BEST THING EVER WHY HAVE I NEVER TRIED THIS BEFORE

y-y-you're gonna hit-hit-hit that--

THEY DIDN'T TELL ME THIS WOULD BE HARD

#musings #dr2 #danganronpa #mikan tsumiki #kazuichi soda #i literally have had them have this conversation off-screen in fic space #so that kazuichi can pilot stuff #just take some dramamine my dude and you will be FINE #unfortunately this does not suddenly make you a good driver #whoops

[concretenoah]

FIC RECOMMENDATIONS:

i wanted to make a list of fics i thoroughly enjoyed. all of you are amazing, and i wanted to show you some love. everyone give these fics a read if you haven’t already <3

BAD OMENS:

Sweet Like Honey by @darksigns-exe

Slow Down by @measuredingold

Just Friends by @measuredingold

Heaven Sent by @measuredingold

Now Our Tongues are Tied by @measuredingold

Don’t Cry Over Spilled Wine by @concreteburialplot

Intertwined by @concreteburialplot

We’ll Get You There by @concreteburialplot

Draped Across by @concreteburialplot

Euclid Verse by @deathblacksmoke

I'm Buzzing at the Thought by @deathblacksmoke

You’ve Got a Pretty Way About You by @deathblacksmoke

The Crazier I Came by @deathblacksmoke

Dramamine by @deathblacksmoke

My, My, Those Eyes Like Fire by @circle-with-me

The Way You Bend, The Way You Break by @circle-with-me

You’d Be Better Off on Your Own by @foliosriot

Consequences by @collapsedglasshouses

Little One by @cowpokeomens

Polyverse Cam Boy AU by @the-way-of-words

So Give Me All You Got, I Can Take It by @the-way-of-words

Sweetened Breath, Tongue So Mean by @rottingfern

Said & Done by @nerdraging4point0

Dive by @ladyveronikawrites

Interlude: Made Breath and Skin by @mysticdoodlez

WILL RAMOS:

Somewhere Along the Way by @malice-ov-mercy

My Love by @malice-ov-mercy

All I Want for Christmas (will x noah x reader) by @malice-ov-mercy

Music, Love, and Sex by @malice-ov-mercy

You’re Shooting Stars from the Barrel of Your Eyes by @circle-with-me

Tis’ the Damn Season (all parts) by @circle-with-me

Will As Your Boyfriend HCS by @foliosriot

VINNY MAURO:

Am I Fuckable? by @foliosriot

Vinny As Your Boyfriend HCS by @foliosriot

Sweet Boy by @circle-with-me

JESSE CASH:

Jesse As Your Boyfriend HCS by @foliosriot

Legs by @circle-with-me

dividers by @cafekitsune

last updated 04.18.24

#bad omens fic #bad omens fanfiction #will ramos fic #will ramos fanfiction #vinny mauro fic #vinny mauro fanfiction #noah sebastian fic #nicholas ruffilo fic #nick folio fic #jolly karlsson fic #fic recs

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

Pedro memes pt 6

previously, on "Puddles has a problem": ✨part 1✨ ✨part 2✨ ✨part 3✨ ✨part 4✨ ✨part 5✨

I got some requests for more fic reaction type memes, so those are down there somewhere :)

ca-cawww ca-caawwwwwwwww

yah he has two mouths and two noses. so what? it was a creative choice that i will stand by.

Pedro-chu, I choose YOU!

shocked Pedro-chu

float like a buttahfly

Have you ever had a dream that you, um, you had, your, you- you could, you’ll do, you- you wants, you, you could do so, you- you’ll do, you could- you, you want, you want them to do you so much you could do anything?

me after I read @netherfeildren's I Urge You: Bite Me

sneaky sneaky wood go creaky // aight imma head out

you're gonna hear my feedback whether u like it or not (said w love). [[AHEM]] this one's for you: @cavillscurls @frannyzooey @haylzcyon @hier--soir @tieronecrush @ezrasbirdie @pascalisbaby @pascalsbby

sad swirlz 4 sad gurlz

still sad but also in luv

dramamine all day, bb, it's a bumpy ride 'round these parts. @cool-iguana im raising anchor to your dom!Din. "I BRAKE FOR MERMAIDS" is for @psychedelic-ink. "I <3 MY SEAMAN" is for @walkintotheriveranddisappear hahaha

put some motion in my ocean cuz there's se(a)men in that ship. @thetriumphantpanda this is for you for many, many reasons. you, too, @jrrmint

there's 3 of these

no seriously

bc I'm obsessed any nobody can stop me not even myself

HO-HO-HOrny

nurse Pedro has such good bedside manner. sending @fuckyeahdindjarin all the love in the world

i'm fine. this is fine. I LOVE IT.

see?

THIS JUST IN! @chloeangelic this is your line cook!Joel influence

additional sidebar if you care abt the integrity of journalism. @iamskyereads all the extra words are in honor of Compulsion, featuring my fave verbose slut Ezra

y'all. I went back and counted, and in just under two weeks I've posted just under 100 (97 to be exact) original Pedro memes. what in the actual FUCK is wrong with me hahahahahaha.

I'm gonna focus a bit on my writing (yeah, I write fic, too lmaoooo) for a little bit before posting more memes. bc there's always more memes where I'm concerned. in the meantime, you can check out ✨✨✨ MY MASTERLIST ✨✨✨ if you want more from my beautiful goblin brain.

catch ya later, ♥Puddles♥

(mostly) tagging anybody who reblogged the last one:

@innerpersonunknown @talaok @atinylittlepain @hecatombix @thesummerpetrichor @atticrissfinch @joelscruff @your-slutty-gf @bonezone44 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @toxicanonymity @pedrit0-pascalit0 @pr0ximamidnight @zohaaan @chaotic-mystery @goodwithcheese @wannab-urs @sin-djarin @drewharrisonwriter @lucyeyelesbarrow @angiees-things @tbeep @tonys-fav-bitch @lovers-liability @pedroswife69 @pedropascalfan221 @lalosbxtch @bubblepopneurotic @vee-bees-blog @admirxation @daniegraceg @swiftispunk

↓ additional tags in comments ↓

#a word from puddles #memes n tingz #pedro pascal memes #im back on my bullshit

[justagalwhowrites]

Lavender - Ch. 7

You realize something major just as the world ends. A continuation of Lavender Ch. 1-6, found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Length: 6k

Warnings: TLOU Canon-typical violence, attempted suicide, mention of sex. No use of Y/N. Overall fic is 18+ Minors DNI

A/N: Y'all, this is the outbreak chapter. Apologies in advance.

Tuesday, September 2, 2003 

You’d been throwing up enough the last few days that you knew the signs. When your stomach started turning on your drive to work, you groaned. 

“Goddammit,” you muttered, spotting a Walgreens on the corner. They’d have a bathroom. And maybe something you could use to kick this stupid stomach bug. You parked and all but sprinted for the bathroom, knocking once on the door before yanking it open. You barely made it to the toilet, throwing up everything you’d managed to eat that morning. Not that much sounded good. It had been a struggle finding anything worth trying to eat every day since you either got food poisoning or caught the stomach flu or whatever the hell was going on. 

Once you were sure it had passed, you sat back on your heels, groaning. This was getting so old. You rinsed your mouth out in the sink and ventured down the aisles of the store, grabbing a travel container of Listerine before going to the pharmacy counter. 

“Can I help you?” The cheery woman in a white coat said. 

“I hope so,” you smiled sheepishly. “I don’t know what’s been going on with me but I either got some crazy food poisoning or caught some stomach bug, I’ve been doing nothing but throw up for three days. I’ve tried Pepto, I’ve tried Dramamine, I’m hoping you have another idea…” 

“Could you be pregnant?” She asked, her eyebrows drawing together in a slight frown. 

“No,” you laughed and then paused, doing the math. 

You hadn’t had your period since June. That wasn’t super odd for you, you’d never been particularly regular. Some months it just didn’t show up. But it’s not like you’d been having tons of crazy sex since you got dumped last month… You’d just had lots of crazy sex when you’d last seen Joel seven weeks ago. Like the time in the pool the morning you flew home, where he came so deep inside you it felt almost impossible. Your hand drifted to your lower stomach. 

“Pregnancy tests are on aisle eight,” she pointed, giving you a sad half smile. You just nodded, leaving the Listerine on the counter and walking in a daze for the tests. You almost blindly grabbed a pack. There was a smiling woman on the package, like that positive test was the best thing had ever happened to her. You carried it back to the pharmacy counter. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, still dazed. “Can I buy these here? Even though I’m not getting a prescription?” 

“No problem,” she scanned the tests and the Listerine and you paid before walking to the bathroom. You weren’t sure when you’d last blinked. 

You peed on the stick, washed your hands and paced, checking your watch every few seconds as if that would make time go faster. But when the time was up, you didn’t want to pick up the test and see the result. Didn’t want to know what the answer was, like you’d rather not know a damn thing and then deal with whatever comes when it comes. 

You picked up the test. 

Two pink lines. 

“Oh God.” 

You didn’t remember driving to work. You didn’t really remember walking in, either. The first thing you were aware of was stopping at Louisa’s classroom door, poking your head in as she set up for her first class of the year. 

“When’s your planning period?” You asked. 

“Third,” she said. “Same as last year.” 

“Good,” you said. “I’m coming by.” 

“Not a great day for it,” she said absently. “I’ve got so much crap to do…” 

“Louisa,” you said, pleading. She looked up at you and frowned. 

“Yeah, OK,” she nodded. “See you third period.” 

You were on autopilot the first two periods. You doubted you’d be able to pick any of your students out of a lineup your mind was so full of other things. 

Pregnant. You were pregnant. In 15 years you’d have a kid this age. Oh God, you were going to have a kid. Were you going to have a kid? Were you going to do this alone? 

You didn’t even knock on Louisa’s door at the start of third period, just letting yourself in and closing it behind you. 

“So what’s so urgent?” She said, sitting at a lab table and cracking open a Diet Coke. “You look like death.” 

You wordlessly pulled the Walgreens bag from your purse, getting the test out and setting it on the plastic. 

“Oh fuck,” Louisa stared at it for a second, her mouth hanging open. 

“Yeah.” 

“Oh Honey,” she leaned forward and hugged you. It took you a moment to hug her back. She sat back down. You still felt numb. “When did you find out?” 

“This morning,” you said, staring straight ahead. “I kept getting sick, went to a pharmacy to see what I could get, they asked if I was pregnant and…” 

“It didn’t occur to you otherwise?” She asked, brows raised. “Hon, you teach bio. You’re getting ready to go to med school.” 

“I know, I’m a fucking idiot,” you groaned. “I don’t know how this happened…” 

“Please tell me this is the product of some fling you had that you never told me about and not the guy who broke your heart so bad you were basically catatonic for a week,” she said. 

“Cute that you think I’m capable of having a fling,” you muttered. She groaned. “I know. This is the worst case scenario, I don’t know what the hell to do…” 

“Do you know if you want to keep it or not yet?” She asked gently. 

“I don’t know,” your hand drifted to your lower stomach again. “You’re a single parent, what do you think I should do?” 

“I can’t answer that for you, Hon,” she covered the hand that was resting on the table with hers. “First of all, I was 29 when I got pregnant and happily married - or so I thought. Yeah, my husband was screwing around on me but I was none the wiser then. You’re, what, 23?” 

“I’m 24,” you stared at her hand on yours. 

“You’re basically a kid yourself,” she said. You snorted. Kid. Joel’d always seen you as a kid, even after years together. “And you’d be on your own from the get go. That’s a lot to consider.” 

You just nodded slowly. 

“Have you told the asshole?” She asked. 

“Can you not call him that?” You frowned. 

“He broke my friend’s heart, I should call him a lot worse,” she said. “But fine. Because of your delicate condition…” you smiled and she smiled back. “Have you told Joel?” 

“No,” you said. “And I don’t know that I should. Ever. Even if I decide to keep it.” 

“You’d really keep his child a secret from him?” She frowned. “Honey…” 

“He’s just…” you felt like you were about to cry. “He’s the most dedicated father on the planet. The second I told him he’d uproot his whole life. All for something he doesn’t want. He already gave up everything once for a kid he didn’t plan for, I’m not going to make him do that again. He doesn’t want me, I’m not going to force it on him. I live far enough away now, I could never see him again. It’d be easy to never see him again, he’d never have to know.” 

You looked down to the hand against your stomach, covering the place where part of him was growing inside you. 

Part of you loved the idea of having a piece of him with you forever. But it seemed cruel, putting that on a child. And bringing a child into the world without their father’s knowledge. 

“Fuck,” you sighed. 

“I’ll support you, whatever you decide to do,” she said. “Want a clinic ride? I’ve got your back. Want tips on getting a crying baby to quiet down? I’ve got those. It’ll be OK. Whatever route you choose, it’ll be OK.” 

Thursday, September 25, 2003 

“That’s really still all you can eat,” Jessica, Louisa’s 13-year-old daughter was leaning across her mother’s kitchen counter at you. You broke off another piece of Clif bar and popped it in your mouth. 

“Unfortunately yes,” you said. “Don’t get knocked up, it’s no fun.” 

She cocked her head. “Can I try one?” She asked. You made a face. 

“Why.” 

She shrugged. 

“It looks good,” she said. You looked at her skeptically. “You make it look like it would be good. Because you’re so pretty.” 

You narrowed your eyes. 

“What do you want.” 

“Can you get my mom to let me go to a party tomorrow?” She asked quickly. “Everyone’s going…” 

“You can’t go,” Louisa cut her daughter off. “Stop trying to get your aunt to help butter me up, it won’t work.” 

“Mom,” she groaned, dragging the word out. “Please! I’ll clean the house for a month!” 

“Gotta put in that work beforehand,” she shook her head. “Not happening.” 

“Ugh!” Jessica stomped off to her room and slammed the door. Louisa sighed. 

“See what you’ve got to look forward to?” She muttered. 

“Counting the days,” you broke off another piece of Clif bar. 

“Know if you’re telling him or not?” She asked, sitting next to you at the breakfast bar. You sighed. 

“I’m leaning towards telling him,” you said. “It doesn’t feel right to have his kid and have him not know about it.” 

“It would be a rough situation,” she nodded. “I think telling him is right. He should know there’s a little human that’s half his wandering around out in the world.” 

“Did I tell you my friend Cassie from college got engaged?” You asked. She shook her head. “Well, she did. To the guy she’s been dating for less than a year. I probably should have figured this wasn’t going to stick when we were still just dating after three years… Anyway. Her engagement party is in October in Austin. I was thinking I could fly down, I shouldn’t be showing much yet. Could always just wear a flowy dress or something. See if he’ll talk to me and decide then.” 

“That will give you a bit more time to think,” she said. 

“I’ll have time to come up with a plan,” you nodded slowly. “That’s what I really need before I have this conversation. A plan for him to not need to be involved. We can play pass the baby once they’re old enough if he wants, ship them across the country to visit Dad for the summer. Alternate Christmases. But I’ll have a plan so that he doesn’t need to do anything. No child support, no obligation to me, nothing.” 

You sighed, taking a sip of water. 

“You know what really sucks about all this?” You asked. 

“What?” She said. 

“I really fucking need a glass of wine.” 

Louisa barked a laugh. 

“Yeah,” she said. “You really do.” 

“His birthday’s tomorrow,” you said, staring at the wall. “Think I’ll text him. See if he’d be OK seeing me in October.” 

“Have you talked to him since…” 

“Nope,” you ate the last of the Clif bar. “Not a word.” 

“Fucker,” she muttered. 

“It’s a clean break,” you shrugged. “He wanted out. I don’t blame him.” 

Louisa sighed. 

“I’m sorry you’re going through this but I think you’ll be happy this way,” she said eventually. “You’re going to be the fucking best mom. And for all the asshole’s…” 

“Joel’s,” you interrupted her. 

“For all Joel’s faults,” she corrected herself. “He will be a devoted dad. Even from afar.” 

You leaned your head on her shoulder. 

“I know you’re right,” you sighed. 

“You’ll get there, Kid,” she said. You smiled a little. You’d never told her what Joel used to call you. It still made you happy to hear it. “You’ll get there.” 

Friday, September 26, 2003 

It was a nice night. The air was cool, crisp. Cool enough that you’d thrown on a sweatshirt before going to lay in the grass in your grandmother’s back yard. 

You couldn’t be happier that the week was over. Pregnancy was exhausting, you were tired all the time and the steady diet of nothing but Clif bars had gotten old really fast - though it was better than the constant vomiting. The cashier at the camping store in town had looked at you like you were crazy when you’d ordered several hundred of the damn things but, at a certain point, you were tired of going to the store for the same stupid thing every week when they had the half life of plutonium. You’d just picked up your stash earlier in the week and you’d been rotating through the flavors, pretending that made it so you were eating something different. 

When you’d had lunch with Louisa that day, she told you she’d caved and told Jessica she could go to the party. Jessica was giddy. But Louisa had texted you just after you got outside, asking if you could watch for a text from Jessica if she needed anything later. She wasn’t feeling well, needed to lie down.

Something was probably going around. Nan had gone to bed early herself, complaining of a headache and just generally not feeling well. You were giving it until Monday, then you would call her oncologist. See if the cancer was back. Fuck, you hoped it wasn’t back. But you’d just have to cross that bridge… 

You’d managed to text Joel earlier, too. It had gone better than you’d expected. You wrote and deleted the text four times before you sent it. “Happy birthday! Hope you’re doing well, old man.” You just hoped he’d respond, give you an in to see if he’d meet you in October. He replied almost instantly. 

“Thanks, Kid. Hanging in there. How’s life up north?” 

You hesitated. You didn’t want to look too eager. 

“Not bad. Already ready for the school year to be done. How’s Sarah?” 

He replied quickly again. 

“Good. Loves her classes so far. Made me eggs with shells for breakfast.” 

You laughed. 

“Crunchy. Cassie got engaged. I was thinking of coming down for the party in October. Would you want to get coffee?” 

There was a longer pause this time, but he eventually replied. 

“How about dinner?” 

You smiled. You doubted you’d be able to eat much but dinner with Joel sounded like heaven. 

“Dinner works! I’ll let you know when I know details. Try not to break a hip, old man.” 

“Take care of yourself, Kid.” 

The sky was clear and wide and you wished you knew more about the constellations. You knew the big dipper and the north star, but otherwise were at a loss. You tried to invent new ones when the soft sounds of crickets and the breeze was broken by the roar of jet engines. Two small planes streaked overhead, flying low. You frowned, sitting up and turning to watch them. 

They looked… military? Like something out of “Top Gun.” Which didn’t make any sense, you’d never seen planes like that near you. They disappeared from view and you were about to lie back down when the scream of engines returned. This time, there was a huge plane, flying lower than you were used to seeing. You could see the red, white and blue paint on the side. The smaller jets flew alongside it for a moment before falling back and you saw something launch from one of the smaller planes, streaking across the sky until it collided with the bigger plane, exploding on impact and sending the bigger plane crashing to the Earth. 

“Oh my God!” 

You didn’t remember standing up but you were on your feet, running toward where the plane would come down. The smaller jets tore off, engines roaring, and you felt as the larger plane hit the ground, the force of the impact shaking the Earth and knocking you down. The plane landed in the field of the lavender farm, an orange fireball casting the farmhouse in a ghoulish silhouette. 

You just stared for a second. It didn’t make sense. Why would fighter jets shoot down a fucking passenger plane? Would anyone have survived? Was there anything you could do? Was there another terrorist attack, were people crashing planes into buildings again, was that why? 

Your hands shook as you went for your phone, just staring. You were fumbling with it, trying to open it to call 911 when the screen lit up. It was Joel. You managed to answer.��

“Joel?” Your voice shook. 

“Baby,” he sounded frantic. “Thank fuck, are you OK?” 

How did he know? It couldn’t be on the news yet, how could he know? 

“I’m OK,” you said. You were in a daze. There was so much fire… “What’s happening? I was outside, there were jets… they shot down a fucking plane, Joel, are we under attack?” 

“Has anyone tried to hurt you?” 

You tried to make sense of the question. Aside from almost having a plane shot down on your head? 

“No,” you said. “Joel, what’s happening, why are you asking me that?” 

“Somethin’s happening,” he said quickly. “I don’t know what the fuck it is but people are going crazy, one of the Adlers just tried to kill Sarah…” 

“What!” You screamed it. “Is she…” 

“She’s OK. But they’re not the only ones, there’s somethin’ happening,” he said. “Baby, I need you to listen to me, do exactly what I tell you, OK?” 

“Joel…” 

“Remember all the gear we got for our hiking trip last year?” He asked. You just nodded for a moment before you remembered that you’d need to talk. 

“Yeah,” you said. “Yeah, I remember.” 

“Good,” he said. “Go get that. All of it, pack your backpack and only take what you need to survive. Get food you can live off of for a bit. Your grandma still have that shotgun?” 

“Yes,” you were still watching the plane burn. 

“Good,” he said again. “Get that, too. And all the ammunition. Car have gas?” 

“Yes.” 

“Good. Try to make sure you can carry everything you need and have it ready to go but load your car. Try to get to Martha’s Vineyard, OK?” “Martha’s… why?” 

“Sounds like it might just be the cities,” he said quickly. “Get there. Far enough from the cities but enough rich people that they’ll keep it safe. I’ll come get you, OK? I’m coming to get you.” 

“Joel,” your voice broke. 

“You kill anyone who comes near you, you hear me?” He said. “It’s going to come down to you livin’ or them, make sure it’s you.” 

“I can’t just kill people, Joel…” 

“Yes you can, Baby,” he sounded so desperate. “Yes you can. Protect yourself, keep yourself safe, that’s all that matters. I’ve got Sarah and Tommy, we’re coming to get you. I love you. I love you so much, don’t let anyone take you from me, do you understand?” 

“I love you too,” you breathed. 

“I’m coming to get you, Baby,” he said. “Stay safe. Please, please, Baby, stay safe.” 

“Dad!” You could barely hear Sarah’s shriek before the call dropped. 

“Joel?” You knew it was useless but you yelled into the phone anyway. “Joel!” 

You tried to call again but just got the dissonant sound of a call failing to connect. 

“Martha’s Vineyard,” you said to yourself, forcing yourself to run for your house. “Martha’s Vineyard.” 

You went to the basement and found all the gear from your hiking trip, packing it as quickly as you could while keeping things somewhat organized. You still had a fair bit of room left in the large hiking pack when you lugged it up to the kitchen. You grabbed all the Clif bars plus some of the protein drinks your grandmother’s doctors had told her to drink. You grabbed water, too. 

“Nan!” You yelled, tucking the shotgun below your arm as you headed upstairs. “You awake?” 

You were sure she was, there’s no way she slept through the plane crash. 

“We have to go, Nan,” you called as you went to your room, grabbing a few pairs of clean underwear, socks and a waterproof jacket. There was still a bit of room in your pack, so you grabbed your quilt off your bed. You could always ditch it if you absolutely needed to later, but for now you had the space and you wanted it with you. You pulled the pictures you had of you, Joel and Sarah from their frames and stashed them in a pocket on the pack. You grabbed your favorites of you and your grandmother, too, and the one you had of you and Becca. You grabbed your phone charger. 

“Nan?” You took one last look around your room, hoping you’d see it again. You weren’t so sure you would. There was a scraping sound behind you and you turned. Your grandmother stood in the doorway but she didn’t look quite right. Her head was cocked, her arms dangling. Her eyes looked dead. 

“Nan?” You frowned, walking over to her. “Are you feeling OK? We have to go…”

You never had the chance to offer to pack her a bag. A horrific snarl ripped from her throat and she lunged for you, fingers reaching and grasping. 

“Nan!” You caught her by the shoulders, her teeth bared. “Nan, stop it’s me!” 

Her nails dragged down your neck, ripping through skin. She pulled back from you just enough to launch herself at you again, knocking you prone. “Nan!” 

It was like something else had taken over her body, her clawing hands and gnashing teeth straining to reach you. “Nan, please!” 

You shoved her as hard as you could, sending her slamming into your dresser. She hit her head, blood splattering on the flowers you’d painted on the drawer fronts. You scrambled to your feet, grabbing the pack and slinging it on your back before picking up the gun. You tried to back out of the room, not wanting to turn your back on your grandmother. She snarled and rose onto all fours, pulling herself toward you. 

Time slowed and you heard Joel’s voice in your head. “Don’t let anyone take you from me.” His child was inside you. He was coming for you. You had to live to get to him. 

You raised the gun and fired, the recoil sending you stumbling back as your grandmother’s body flew away from you with the force of the blast. She lay sprawled on the ground, a horrible screaming sound all but deafening you. It took you a moment to realize that it was you making the sound, a choking sob cutting it off. You aimed the gun at the ground, cautiously approaching her, hoping that the blast had somehow killed whatever has possessed her but left her intact. Your shot had caught her in the chest, a gaping hole in her rib cage. You dropped to your knees beside her body, her eyes staring emptily up at the ceiling. 

“I’m so sorry Nan,” you choked out, smoothing her hair back. “I’m so sorry, I love you, I’m so sorry…”

You almost didn’t see it through your tears, the creeping, fibrous tentacle sliding through her lips. You scrambled back, gasping for breath through rasping sobs as it reached and groped. You forced yourself to your feet and staggered from the room, feeling almost drunk. 

It almost didn’t feel like you were safe to drive but you had to keep moving. You grabbed your keys, leaning on the counter in the kitchen for support, and stumbled into your driveway. Another fighter jet shrieked overhead and you instinctively ducked, but no other planes fell out of the sky. The horizon still burned, the air smelling like smoke. You put your bag in the back seat and the shotgun in the passenger seat, some extra ammo tucked in your pockets. You took a second and reloaded the gun, holding the wheel for a moment. You had no fucking clue how to get to Martha’s Vineyard and the only maps in your car were for New York State and NYC. Just as you were trying to come up with a plan, your phone rang. 

“Joel?” You said quickly. 

“It’s Jessica,” she was sobbing. “My mom, there’s something wrong with my mom, I don’t know…” 

“Get out of the house,” you said quickly. “I’ll come get you, don’t touch her don’t try to help her, just run! I’m coming to get you, just run Jessica, do you hear me?” 

“OK,” she said, breathless. “Don’t leave me…”

“Not leaving you,” you said. “Just hanging up for now. Avoid people, avoid anyone who isn’t me. I’m coming for you.” 

You were almost thankful for a direction to go in. You had to get away from your house, from your grandmother’s body and the thing inside it, from what you’d done there. Jessica was a place to go, a purpose. You drove fast. 

Louisa and Jessica’s place was a townhouse and the area around it was chaos. Several cars had crashed near the entrance to the neighborhood and one was burning. People were scrambling to load cars. One man was boarding up his windows with a rifle strapped to his back. As you got closer to Louisa and Jessica’s unit, there were bodies, splayed on the ground in unnatural positions. You parked haphazardly in front of their place, grabbing the shotgun and locking the doors as you left the car. 

“Jessica!” You yelled, gun up and ready to fire. “It’s me, where are you?” 

There was an inhuman shriek from behind you and you spun, gun up. A woman who looked vaguely familiar - you were pretty sure you’d seen her walking her dog when you sat on Louisa’s porch with a beer in your hand - was running for you, her arms outstretched. You didn’t hesitate this time, aiming for her stomach, the shot knocking you off balance and sending you stumbling back over a body on the ground behind you. You fell but the woman did too, her going immediately still. You shook, breathless, staring at her. You’d killed her. Your hand went to your lower stomach. You’d killed her. She might have been gone before you shot her but you’d killed her. 

You leaned over and threw up, what little you’d eaten that day coming up. 

“What’s happening?” 

You looked behind you. Jessica was shaking. There were scratches and blood on her knees and it looked like Louisa had gotten her the same way your grandmother had gotten you, long scratches that looked like they were from a human hand down her arm. 

“Hey,” you tried to smile reassuringly and then remembered that you’d tripped over a dead body. You scrambled back. 

“My mom…” her eyes were wide, wild. 

“I’m sorry, Jessica,” you said softly as you got to your feet. You brushed her hair back, holding her face in your hands. “I’m so sorry but she’s gone, whatever is inside your house isn’t your mom anymore.” 

“What?” Her eyes went wider, she started hyperventilating. 

“I know,” you said, trying to keep your voice calm. “I know. But I have a plan, OK? And part of the plan is getting out of here. You and me. We’re going to get through this.” 

She just nodded, still gasping for breath. You put an arm around her, the gun in your other hand, watching for whatever might come running for you. But nothing did. You made it back to the car without an issue, putting Jessica in the passenger seat. You reloaded the gun and grabbed the compass from the side pocket of the backpack, giving both to Jessica. 

“Just keep the gun handy, OK?” You said. “Don’t shoot anyone, just give it to me when I ask you for it, OK?” 

“OK,” she nodded quickly. 

“The compass is going to be what I need you for most,” you said, driving slowly back the way you came through the neighborhood. “I don’t have a map for where we’re headed. I can get us there but I’ll need some help navigating.” 

“Where are we going?” She asked. 

“An island,” you said. “Where there’s hopefully less of… whatever this is. We’re meeting Joel there.” 

“Joel?” She looked at you. “The guy my mom says is a douchebag?” 

You laughed a little even though there was nothing funny about this situation. But Jessica reminded you of her mom and it was what you needed. 

“He’s not. Well, he’s not all the time,” you said. You passed the burning cars, pulling slowly onto the main road. “What matters is, I’m going to keep you safe. OK?” 

“OK,” she nodded, swallowing hard. 

You immediately went for the back country roads, hoping there would be fewer burning cars and possessed people. And there were, for about an hour. It was almost eerily quiet, you driving slow with just the running lights, wanting to avoid drawing attention to yourselves. But as you got closer to another town, you heard the faint sound of a helicopter. You pulled off the road and shut off the car. 

“Stay put,” you ordered Jessica. 

“What’s going on?” She asked. 

“I don’t know what that helicopter is doing here and I don’t want to find out,” you said. “So we’re just going to lay low.” 

“But what if they could help?” 

You shook your head. 

“We can’t afford to trust them,” you said. “We don’t know who they are or what their job here is…” 

As if on cue, there was a spray of gunfire down the middle of the road, the chopper flying overhead. You ducked down low, grabbing Jessica and tucking her head down, too. You heard bullets hit your trunk and glass break behind you. Jessica sobbed. You held her down until the helicopter left, trying to not hyperventilate. “Don’t let anyone take you from me.”

You tried to start the car again but the engine wouldn’t turn over. You realized it must have been shot. It was sheer luck that you’d been missed. You pulled your sweatshirt over your head and handed it to Jessica. She just looked at it. 

“It’s chilly,” you said. “You dressed for a party tonight, not to go traipsing through the country side. We’ll find something that fits you tomorrow but for now, you’ll need this.” 

She took it, holding it in her hands for a moment, staring down at it. 

“Whose blood is it?” She asked. “I saw it, earlier, when you picked me up. Whose blood is it?” 

You hadn’t even realized there’d been blood on it. 

“Probably my grandmother’s,” you said softly. “She… She was like your mom.” 

She nodded, pulling it on. While she did, you tried calling Joel one more time. It wouldn’t connect. 

You got your backpack out of the car and clung to the gun. 

“We’re going to get through this,” you said, as much to convince yourself as it was to convince her. “We’ve got this.” 

She nodded at you. You took a deep breath. 

“Let’s go.” 

***

Saturday, September 27, 2003

The sun was up. It didn’t feel right that the sun was up. How could the sun be up. 

“Joel.” 

Tommy’s voice felt very far away. Everything felt very far way. 

“Joel, we have to keep moving,” he said. “C’mon. If we stay here much longer, trouble’s gonna find us, we have to go.” 

He got up. Part of him was aware that his body hurt but it was hard to actually feel it. Any pain in his body was a relief. It was better than burning, stabbing, gaping wound at the center of him. Anything, anything to take away from that was a blessing. 

They’d already passed dozens of bodies. They kept off the highway, sticking to tree lines where they could, Tommy’s head on a swivel when they couldn’t. 

Joel couldn’t bring himself to care enough to watch for anything. Every body they passed was a reminder. Sarah was gone. He’d held her body, she was gone, he’d never hear her or see her or touch her again. He’d been right there, right there and he couldn’t save her. She was gone. 

The dead made him think of you, too. There were so many bodies. He hadn’t been able to save Sarah. There had been no one there to save you. 

You were a lot of things. Brilliant. Funny. Beautiful. You weren’t a killer. You were too kind, too sweet to survive something like this. You’d have taken pity on someone who turned on you, someone who slit your throat for your pack or shot you to take your car. Or you wouldn’t be able to hurt someone who came at you in that foreign, inhuman way. You’d wait a second too long and they’d rip you to pieces. God, he hoped it had been quick for you. He hoped that they’d just killed you and hadn’t done worse to you first, just because they could. Whatever had gotten you, he hoped you hadn’t felt it. That it hadn’t been like Sarah, gasping and choking and in pain. 

“Joel.” 

He wasn’t sure how long they’d been walking. The sun was low in the sky again. 

“We should stop here,” Tommy said. “Good vantage points…” 

Joel didn’t say anything. He just stood there. 

“You hear me?” Tommy said. 

“What?” Joel asked. 

“I said stay here,” he said. “Saw something down that hill, looked like a truck for a grocery store. I’m going to see if I can grab some food for us.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Joel.” 

He looked up. Tommy looked like he was in pain. 

“Just sit tight, OK?” He said. “Just sit tight.” 

Joel watched him leave, standing and staring at nothing. 

There was nothing left for him here. Nothing. Without Sarah, without you, it wasn’t worth it. Life before whatever was happening wasn’t worth it without Sarah, without you. Now? How could it be. 

He sniffed and pulled out his gun. 

He thought, for a moment, about the last time the three of you had been all together. It was the day you flew back to New York. The two of you had woken up early, decided to have coffee by the pool, go for a swim before Sarah woke up for the day. She was a teenager, she slept late. He made love to you in the water. You tasted like coffee and cherry chapstick. You smelled like lavender, even with the chlorine. You were soft and warm and felt like home.

When Sarah got up, you and Joel had already dressed for the day. Your bags were by the door. Sarah asked if you’d make French Toast and you’d agreed, as long as she helped. He watched the two of you in the kitchen, Sarah picking egg shells out from the batter because she’d never quite gotten the hang of cracking eggs. She was singing some pop song that grated on Joel whenever it came on the radio but he liked it when Sarah sang it. You bobbed your head along to it, using the spatula as a drumstick on the stove top. The coffee was hot and smooth. The world felt right. 

He held onto the moment in his mind, pressing the gun against his head. He wasn’t sure he believed in an afterlife but he hoped it would be like that. Just that one morning, on loop, over and over and over again. Just him and Sarah and you, until the end of all things. 

He started pulling the trigger when he heard your voice, so clear it was like you were standing next to him. 

“I’ll always love you, Joel. Til the day I die.” 

He flinched. 

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #tlou hbo #tlou fic #joel miller x original character

[bellysoupset]

It's @lisupanddown with a MINI fic request - we haven't seen any motion sickness lately, and I'd love a little, loving drabble with sick Leo and caretaker Jon in a situation where they have to travel, and maybe Jon was in charge of bringing the anti-nausea meds and forgot, and feels so guilty about it because they both know Leo's going to get sick and there's no way to avoid it. Would love to see the onset of the nausea - throat bobbing, swallowing, Jonah hovering and trying to do his doctor best to help while cursing himself for forgetting the meds. And Leo both feeling so sick, but also trying to comfort Jonah because hey, mistakes happen (maybe he can start out being annoyed or stressed or prickly, but realizes eventually that that's not helping the situation). Okay, so this is awfully specific and detailed, lol.

Oh my god, Lis, this is noooot little 🙈. But I'll try anyway.

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

"I'm so excited I'm almost vibrating out of my skin," Leo said, as soon as Jonah pulled over in front of his work building. They were all heading down to Doveport, or rather, just outside of it.

Vince, the overtly friendly person he was, had already stricken up a friendship with one of the older teachers, who just so happened to have a cabin by the lake and was more than happy to rent it out for the weekend for a decent fee.

It was just the weekend, so in order to better utilize their time, Jonah and Leo were leaving straight after work on a Friday. It was court day, so Leo didn't even have time to pack, trusting Jon to do it for him.

Besides, it was just two days away, even if he forgot something like extra underwear, it would be fine, right?

Jonah was drumming his fingers against the steering wheel as he drove, completely relaxed, even if he looked pretty tired himself after working all day and with four hours of road ahead of them.

Jon was in the best mood Leo had ever seen him lately, all smiley and soft, probably due to his sister visiting and everything falling into place as his controlling ass had planned. He was overdue a cranky moment, Leo thought with a snort, leaning his head back and planning on napping for his half of the trip as the passenger.

No such thing. The minute they were out of the city and into the open road, Leo felt a pressure between his ears, as if someone was squeezing his head. He let out a sigh, opening his eyes and focusing them on the horizon, immediately recognizing the initial signs of motion sickness.

"We should've carpooled," Leo said, just because their comfortable silence was turning into anything but, given the weird pressure in his head, "there's no reason for all of us to drive separately."

"Wendy left during lunch," Jonah reminded him, unbothered, "and I'm not sharing a car with Luke and Bell, they drive me insane."

"Uhm," Leo rubbed a hand over his face and let out yet another sigh when staring at the sun setting ahead of them didn't help at all, "where did you put the dramamine?"

"Already?" Jonah groaned, "it's in your backpack, backseat, front pocket."

"Already," Leo nodded, unbuckling his seatbelt and turning around to grab the blue backpack. He sat back down on his seat and opened the front zipper, only to frown. Some minty bubblegum, a folded plastic bag, his phone charger... "it's not here."

"Of course it is, search better," Jon rolled his eyes, lowering his window so he could rest an elbow on the windowsil and his head on his hand, yawning, "I brought my fishing gear."

"I didn't even know you had that," Leo mumbled, removing all the contents from the front pocket and glaring at the empty space. No pills. He unzipped the other pockets, now feeling much more urgent as glancing down to search for the meds was making his nausea worse, "it's not here. You didn't pack the freaking meds, Jon."

Jonah frowned, looking away from the road, then switching his hands on the steering whell, so he could shove his right one inside the backpack Leo had already inspected, fully believing his boyfriend had done a poor job of it.

Then he cursed, "oh shit, I'm sorry, Leo- Maybe it's in my bag?"

Leo groaned, covering his face with his hands and rubbing vigoriously as if that was going to help the uncomfortable sloshing in his belly. The thought of his lunch flashed in front of his eyes and Leo swallowed in thickly, turning around once more in order to exchange bags.

It was to no avail, Jonah hadn't brought the meds.

"Fucking hell, Jon," Leo said, grabbing the plastic bag he had iniatially seen and opening it on his lap. He leaned back, breathing through his mouth and rolling down his window, hoping the cool air was going to help some.

"There's a rest stop in one hour," Jonah said in a strained voice, clearly feeling guilty, "I think they have a pharmacy. Can you hold on that long?"

Leo raised a hand and shook it from side to side in order to indicate he wasn't sure. He didn't dare speak, pressing his lips in a thin line as overly sweet saliva started to flood his mouth.

He gulped down, then startled as he felt Jon taking his hand in his, "What-"

"It's a pressure point," the other man answered, keeping his eyes on the road, "maybe it'll help...?"

"Uhm," Leo gulped down when he tried to answer, only to feel his stomach rocket up his throat. He felt cold sweat start to collect over his upper lip, glueing the baby hairs to his nape, "god..."

"Do you want me to pull over?" Jonah sounded every bit as if Leo had told him they'd need to put down the family dog. Leo ignored him, pulling his hand from Jon's hold and grabbing at the plastic bag, bringing it up to his mouth.

Vaguely he could hear his boyfriend saying something else, but Leo ignored him, spitting inside the bag. His mouth felt terrible. He had eaten risotto for lunch and the next weak heave was just spit and some fucking grains that got stuck in his throat and caused him to gag loudly.

The car swerved and Leo groaned, planting a sweaty hand to the dashboard as he felt his head swim. With the bag half open, Leo let out a sick burp, that turned frothy and disgusting at the end-

"Here," Jonah grabbed the other side of the bag since he had let go and moved it up to Leo's mouth, "I got you-"

"Gon'besick," Leo slurred, "pullovr," his words were sticking together, eyes tearing up as yet another wave of hot nausea washed over him, causing his stomach to clench again, "Jon pull over-"

"I did, baby," Jonah's soft hand suddenly was on his forehead, helping Leo support it, and the blonde leaned heavily against the touch, gagging again, "deep breaths, this will pass ina moment."

He forced a breath through his nose, straightening up and dizzily grabbing the door handle, pushing it open.

"Leo, wait-" Jon said, but it was to no avail, as the other man stumbled out of the car and immediately fell down on his knees on the grass, heaving and bringing up a gush of vomit all over the grass.

"God-" Leo whined, coughing to clear up his throat and wiping at the micro tears that had slipped out. His stomach still felt uneasy, but puking had helped some, so had standing on the ground and no longer feeling claustrophobic inside the car. He forced up a burp and it brought up a little dribble of spit and liquidy vomit, then Leo fell back on his heels, startling when his back met Jonah's arms.

"I got you," his boyfriend said, sounding terribly worried and guilty, "you done?"

"Think- think so," Leo interrupted himself with a sour burp and shivered at the taste, "help me up."

Jonah didn't need to be told twice. Now getting a better bearing of their surroundings, Leo could tell his boyfriend was pale as well, how much was sympathy nausea, how much was his nervous stomach Leo didn't know.

"You good?" He rasped, as Jon helped him towards the car. Instead of going inside, Leo collapsed against the hood and happily took the water bottle Jonah retrieved from the backseat.

"If I'm good?" Jon scoffed, stepping aside so Leo could swirl the water in his mouth and spit it on the grass. At least the headlights were not illuminating the mess on the ground just a couple feet ahead, "I'm fucking peachy, you're the one puking."

"I'm okay," Leo rubbed a hand over his stomach, pressing on it and bringing up a little burp that he blew out under his breath, "just give me a minute."

"I'm really sorry," Jonah sighed, stepping closer, "do you wanna lie in the back? Or I can drop you at the nearest gas station, then grab the meds in the rest stop and com-"

"Don't be ridiculous," Leo rolled his eyes, leaning in and planting his forehead to Jon's shoulder, "really, it's just carsickness, it's not like I'm dying. Give me a minute."

Jonah let out a scoff, but hugged him closer, planting a hand on Leo's back and rubbing up and down, "I'm sorry-"

"Please, shut up about it," Leo whined, sinking into Jon's warmth and trying to gather up courage to get back inside the car, "it's fine."

He could almost hear Jon's retort, but at least he didn't say it out loud.

Leo breathed in, measuredly, until the nausea receeded almost completely. He wasn't looking forward to the next hour until the stop, but at least it was just one more hour or so.

He straightened up, "switch with me, let me drive."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Leo nodded, "and stop kicking yourself over it, it's fine."

"I'll make it up to you," Jonah promised, getting in the passenger side. Leo got in the driver one, fiddling with the seat.

"Oh, yeah, you better. I want breakfast in bed tomorrow morning," he teased lightly, even if the mere thought of food made his stomach churn.

Jon opened a relieved smile at the teasing, "deal, breakfast and head, how about?"

"Sounds lovely," Leo snorted, starting up the car.

#mywriting #sickfic #emetophilia #carsickness #leo wagner

[cantareincminor]

New fic: Orpheus

Started posting a new multichapter Spy x Family fic. This is going to be a difficult one to finish and I hope I don’t lose my resolve along the way! Thanks to @whateversawesome for helping with crucial plot points and encouraging me.

Edit: I realized it might help to actually describe the premise, lol. It’s a canon divergence from the mole hunt arc. Soon after reading that arc, I thought about how dire the situation might become if Twilight had actually killed or critically injured Yuri when he had the chance, whether by accident or on purpose. The potential for TwiYor drama, revenge, SSS v WISE v Garden conflicts, and Anya being caught in the middle was too rich to pass up. So now I’m writing my first long fic in more than a decade. Hope you come along for the ride with me! Bring Dramamine.

#spy x family #fanfic #writing #agent twilight #loid forger #yor forger #twiyor

[sicjimin]

Can you do jimin carsick on a normal day and how it annoys him that he started off his day being sick which makes him tired when compared to the other members so he's not as productive on the days where he gets carsick and there's no telling on which days he will because it's so unpredictable.

You can choose the caretaker who reassures him and gently gets jimin out of his frustration

a.n : a usual opening for my fic .. i'm sorry this take soooooo long to be fullfiled, i hope this won't disappoint you after the long wait, and i hope you're still around anon 🥲 thank you for requesting ! and sorry for the broken grammar all over, somehow after almost 2 months not writing, my english isn't english-ing

tw : emeto

Jimin isn't a hateful person per se, like .. if you had to sit him down in an interview, and they ask him to put it on the list someone or something that he hates, it would definitely take him longer than 5 minutes to give something out—or even none. Maybe he would put something silly like mangos, mint choco, and etc ; that would sent the members teasing him or the interviewer burst into giggles, as they all know, there's no actual hatred in Jimin's body for it.

But on some days, bad days to be exact—Jimin would love to be asked that kind of questions and he would answer it delightfully without having to think long ; and he definitely put every meaning into his answers.

It's being sick.

He hates being sick. No—scratch it. He loathes being sick.

And bless God for putting his soul in a petite body that's apparently : have a great resistance towards cruel and inhumane hours of dancing, but very weak against a moving object (re: cars, trains .. and every other transportations you could name). It's so .. goofy, if he think about it.

He hates how it comes on the most unpredictable times—sometimes when he's in rush hours and running late, or sometimes when he's already dealing with anxiety before something big—and how sometimes it comes even he already prevented it. A big gulp of benadryl, dramamine .. everything you named it ; in the morning, still got him dizzy and gagging at the parking lot in those bad days.

And lucky for him, today is one of those days—and it's just match perfectly how they got to shoot something a bit far away, 30 mins of ride if there's no traffic.

He starts to sense that something is going wrong in the first 10 minutes of ride—as he tries to tuned in with whatever conversation Taehyung and Jungkook get going on in front of him, and Yoongi quiet scroll through his phone—when he feels a familiar tightness around his middle area.

He takes a deep breath, hoping that it's just anxiety pooling in with the mental image of doing a shoot, mixed with his quite filling breakfast. It doesn't help much; a few more seconds pass with his hands balled up in fists, starting to sweat.

It happens so fast, like one moment he starts acknowleged the telltale of it—then another second it grows.

He feels dizzy now.

"Hyung ..", Jimin tries to switch his gaze from the quick passing of trees on the road, but his head feels heavier than before, as if his stomach had dropped. The pressure increases exponentially in his belly and he bites on his lower lip to stop the groan that threatens to slip out.

Yoongi snaps up from his phone, and when their eyes meet his gaze looks worried. "Jimin-ah, are you okay?", he asks quietly, eyes wide open, brows furrowed and worry written over his face. His voice comes out as a question, and his hand reach to rub circles on the younger's thigh in an effort to ease him.

Jimin shuts his eyes as he takes another deep gush of breathe, even with the darkness—everything is spinning around him. And he feels sickeningly warm at the same time. "Bag ..", he manages to utter, barely above a whisper—not trusting himself enough to be more detailed with whatever he's feeling. Or else their lap; Yoongi's and his; would be covered with his breakfast now.

Jimin could hear Yoongi's quiet curses, followed with loud fumbling around his bag and hushed call towards the others that seated in front—in between the ringing in his ears as his breakfast pooled right on his throat. Then, Yoongi's palm is under his chin as the rapper tap his shoulder.

He opened his eyes slowly, seeing bag already pushed towards him, "Here."

The elder's voice is quiet, worried, and there are tiny lines carved across his forehead like he was trying to figure something to do.

Jimin feels like he's not part of his body anymore everytime he feels sick—like it got another mind to control what his next moves and no room for Jimin to think and contemplate it. He barely got to mumbles a quiet "sorry" to his members—before his stomach curved in, forcing a quiet loud and gross gag filling the car. Tears pooling in his eyes with the force and embarassment that came with it. And he felt himself get pushed to the side, colliding with Yoongi's chest as the older wrapped his arms around him, and his low "It's okay .. you will feel better after this" get drowned with the next heaves, that apparently more productive as a mouthful of vomit splatter to the bag.

Jimin gasps, breathing heavily and panting from the overwhelming amount of nausea that has filled his system. He tried getting out of Yoongi's grip, yet the elder held him close as the smaller man shook, bending forward even more when his stomach pushing all his breakfast out, filling the bag rapidly without giving him room to breathe.

"Hyung .. sorry ..", Jimin coughed for a bit, then shook with another sickly retch as even more puke fountained out of his mouth.

Yoongi hums, keep rubbing small circles around his shoulder blade to comfort his trembling figure and keep him steady. Jimin keeps his eyes shut tightly, barely registering the concerned mumbles around him—as his body worked up, continued to let his stomach content out for quite some time before he doubled over with unproductive spasms.

Jimin slumps against Yoongi, almost completely limp, his head lulling to the side, lips slightly parted and his hair stuck against his neck.

"Jiminie," he heard Taehyung calls out, sounding worried "Are you alright?"

Jimin lets out a shaky breath, "I'm fine..", he mutters quietly, eyes still closed. "It just hurts a little.. my stomach.."

"Do you want us to stop somewhere?", he recognized that as Jin trying to sound caring and calm, but was clearly still worried.

"No... no it's fine.", Jimin says, "We're only few minutes away, right?"

"Yeah.", Jungkook replies, voice laced in worry. Jimin nods weakly at the youngest's reply.

The car went in silence and Jimin's body feels weak. But he can't afford to sleep when he needs to remain conscious—not until his stomach stops feeling so horrible. He just hopes that when he wakes back up he'll feel somewhat rested.

"Do you need something? you have your medicine with you?", Yoongi's quiet voices brings Jimin back to reality and he shakes his head, keeping his eyes not being open for too long in attempt to avoid the new round of nausea. "No.... to both. I think i forgot to take my meds this morning. I dont think today .. will be like this", he mumbled in between heavy breaths.

Jimin can imagine the concern look on Yoongi's expression—he knows his hyung, he would understand if it was him.

"Let's rest for awhile then.", Yoongi suggested calmly, rubbing small circles on his back again.

***

Jimin knows that his bout of sickness wont end simply with once episode of throwing up. He knows his body better than that—along with how he already lost count with waves of nausea that passes through his body since he stepped out of the car until now.

It's almost 2pm now, they already moved from the shoot location to the practice room as they need to rehearse few things for their new songs and upcoming shows.

Jimin frowned, looking at his reflection in the mirror like it's personally offended him when he got the moves wrong—no, he got it right but something feels off with how he did it. It's not .. perfect enough. He takes a deep breath, gulping down a whine out of frustration that been building up, and blinks—the room spins momentarily ; but he brushed it off—before moving his hand along with the beat on his head.

"Jimin-ah"

"Hm?", Jimin hums, choosing to look at Hoseok—that been eyeing him for the past minutes—through the mirror, so it doesn't break his focus.

"You should sit this down for a minute, take a rest", the older frowns, "You're pale"

"I know, I know," Jimin sighs, "But i cant, we have to go soon..."

"Jimin, you don't look good..."

"I will after this, just few minutes i promise", Jimin mumbles as he continues, trying his best to shake away the sudden nausea creeping back over him, "I'm okay, really"

"Jiminie..."

"Hobi hyung... please just trust me", Jimin pleaded, finally looking at his friends—and he can see Hoseok's hesitancy, but the older gives in anyway—leaning closer to check the other out more carefully. He watches as he reaches to pat his arm in reassurance.

Jimin smiles in appreciation, before turning his attention back to the choreography that he was supposed to master perfectly before their run through.

It takes him a while to get everything back into place—he isn't sure whether that's because his vision is starting to blur or because of the sweat dripping down his temples. But he can't complain, he has to concentrate, otherwise this whole practice session could turn into vain.

He closes his eyes tightly, feeling the nausea becoming more intense along with his movement. Taking a deep breathe even through the help of his parted lips didn't help. His tongue felt thick and cottony in his mouth, and he knows he probably won't last much longer.

Just as he thought that—just when he was about to move one foot to make the next step forward, his stomach turns once again—this time causing him to bend forward. A wave of nausea hits him and the taste of bile floods in his mouth. He gags, quickly clamped his mouth as his lunch burns through his throat and filling his cheeks.

His eyes widen, panic washing over him as his stomach rolls again, pushing more intense gag that he knows will breaking his composure.

He barely register that someone called out for him—that Yoongi and Hoseok been on his side, ready to help—when he makes a run to the bathroom.

He cant throw up here.

He slams the bathroom door open with a slim time—he gagged into the palm of his hand and turned toward the nearest sink instead.  Jimin doubled over and spewed a chunky stream of vomit into the sink. He barely aware with the rush of footsteps behind him, the sudden touch going up and down over his back, and how his already grown hair not spilling all over the sink—as he's too busy following his stomach command. Over and over he shuddered and spewed out chunks of his half-digested lunch.

"Ssh, Jimin, breathe ..", Yoongi cooed at him, holding onto his shoulders to keep him steady—while Hoseok stood by the sink, watching Jimin vomit out his meal with his face scrunched.

"Hoba", Yoongi croaked out as his fingers found their way under Jimin's hair and pulled it back, grimacing as his voice drowned with the younger heaves, "Can you bring him water and towel?"

Hoseok nodded, rushing out of the room, secretly glad that he didn't have to witness it for a moment as his own stomach starts to turn as well.

"Hyung ..", Jimin paused, panting, and let his mouth hang open as nausea still thick lacing over him. "This is so gross", he chokes out before another retch soon overcame and water rushes out of him.

Yoongi chuckles, "Yeah it is .. but it's okay, you have to let it out"

***

After Jimin vomits for what seemed like ages, though he knew it was only about ten minutes, Hoseok comes with Yoongi's request—towel and bottle of cold water in hands. "Are you feeling better?", he cooed at the younger that slumped against the sink as he rinses his mouth, eyes rid rimmed and filled with tears—while Yoongi steadily held him by waist ; afraid that the younger legs might gave out anytime soon.

Jimin groans softly, wiping his forehead with the towel, "A bit.."

"That's good", Hoseok smiles, "You need to go home"

"Go home?!", Jimin splutters, brows furrowed. "You can't tell me that."

Hoseok laughs, "Yes I do, you must be exhausted", he pauses briefly, "You've practiced a lot. That's enough, and you're not feeling good"

"I already feel better!", Jimin whines, shaking his head furiously before he cut out with a gasps, as dizziness rushing through him and makes him lose his footing.

"Jiminie .."

"See? You barely can hold yourself up", Hoseok points out, helping Jimin lean against Yoongi that been quiet. "Hyung can go with you"

"Hyung ..", Jimin whines again, moving his gaze towards Yoongi, hoping that the latter would help him somehow.

He still needs to practice ! There's a lot of movement that he hasn't perfected yet ! How can they make him go home?

"Jimin," Yoongi calls his name sternly, and Jimin knows Yoongi is serious this time. "You're not doing a great job either right now"

Jimin groans at that, knowing it's true. The younger is not in control anymore, and it hurts his stomach to even move at all. Jimin hates having an effect on everyone around him, especially those close to him—they shouldn't have to worry about his health when it comes to their career.

"Okay", Jimin looks down, suddenly feeling too tired to argue. "I'm sorry hyung"

"No, no. Don't apologize", Hoseok assures him; "You've already done enough".

Jimin sighs, "Okay.."

"Here, drink some water first", Hoseok said gently. Jimin nods slowly, opening the bottle of water and taking a sip. "Good boy, now go home with your hyung and take a rest", Hoseok ruffles his hair, smiling warmly at Jimin who returned it weakly. "And call me when you get home"

"I will hyung"

They watch as Hoseok walks out, leaving Jimin alone with Yoongi. Jimin lets out a soft sigh, leaning further towards Yoongi's chest, "I'm sorry you have to go out early too with me. I can go home al—"

"Nah", Yoongi cuts him out, as he trailed behind the younger. "Thank you for letting me out early", he chuckles. "You know sometimes rest doesn't hurt, and i'm sure everyone won't do much either today"

Jimin huffs, tugging Yoongi's sleeves to walk closer with him unconsciously, "But we only have few weeks left—"

"And you have been performing for 10 years, Min .. a day of rest won't reducing your performance", Yoongi smiled fondly at him, wrapping his arms securely around his body, "Let's rest today okay? We can continue tomorrow."

"Okay", Jimin sighs, knowing Yoongi will always find the counter attack if he's going on and on—then fine, he'll allow himself to go a little off the beat this one afternoon.

#bts sickfic #bts emeto #tw emeto #tw vomit #sick!jimin #caretaker!yoongi

[wolfjackle-creates]

So, in the Ghost!Robin fic... All I can think of with Jason and Jazz before the family introductory dinner is the song One Normal Night from the Addams Family Musical.

Jazz: *to Danny* No ghost stuff, okay?

Danny: Of course not! By the way, want to know what Clockwork told me about the future of your relationship?

Jazz: No!

Meanwhile, at Wayne Manor

Jason: I need you all to be normal for one night.

Dick: *hanging from a chandelier* we can totally do normal!

Damian: *polishing his katana* Did you say something, Todd?

Tim: *on the phone with Conner, Cassie, and Bart* Okay, so we're all agreed, the secret 2nd batmobile I'm building will be painted pink. *to Jason* Oh, hey Jason. Didn't know you'd be home today.

Jason: Why do I even try?

Song lyrics under the cut.

Wednesday:

They're normal people

Not like you

Not like me

Please can't we be a normal family!

One normal night

That's all I want

That's all I need from you

One normal house

Without a mouse

To feed a plant or two

You must admit we aren't what people call "laid back"

So can't we muse a bit and lose the basic black?

Whoa, one normal night

With normal people on their way

Just one normal night

(Spoken):

Whaddaya say?

Morticia:

One normal night?

Wednesday:

To be polite

To do the least you can

Gomez (Spoken):

One normal eve?

Wednesday:

Can you achive

A kind of common man?

You have to swear to me

Yes, promise to the core

It's almost six o'clock

They're almost at the door!

On all the Addams ancestors

Who've ever walked aright

One normal night!

Ancestors:

Doo doo doo doo

Lucas (Spoken):

Wait! This is the place where I first saw her! Wednesday, with a crossbow. And she looked like Diana The Huntress!

Mal (Spoken):

Who?

Alice (Spoken):

He's just expressing himself, dear. 'Expressing is the poet's art. Just simply say what's in your heart.'

Mal (Spoken):

Lucas, your mother's rhyming again. I say we take a rain check and go back to the hotel.

Lucas (Spoken):

No!

Sung:

One normal night

No, not one poem

Not one inspiring word

One normal scene

Complete routine

Tonight can't be absurd

Please don't embarrass me

Or be completely rude

Don't make a fuss about the house

About the food

Whoa! One normal night

I know it's big but can't you see

This one normal night is for me!

Fester (Spoken):

He seems like a nice young man!

Ancestors (Spoken):

They're not right for each other/He's from Ohio/It'll never work

Fester (Spoken):

Not right for eachother?! What do you mean, "They're not right for each other?"

Sung:

Was Napoleon right for Josephine?

Was nausea right for Dramamine?

Were the 80's right for the drum machine

Who's to say?

Who's to say?

Was ballet right for Balanchine?

Was Polio right for the Salk vaccine?

Were you folks right for the mezzanine?

Who's to say?

One normal night is a perilous trick

Normal is hard to attain

Children are crazy and parents are quick

Passions are hard to explain

But this is their moment and this is your chance

So if you don't want to remain

Start singing of love

[Ending here because these are the important parts.]

#dpxdc #jason todd #jazz fenton #addams family musical #family shenanigans

[beyondthesefourwalls]

Fic Recommendation Request!

I’ll be stuck in the car all day tomorrow and then all day on Monday (ERAS TOUR HERE I COME!!!🎉) and am planning on passing the time reading as much as possible (and jamming to T-Swift, because obviously). I have a few things on my list already, but I’d love some fic recommendations if anyone has them! I read predominately Bradley, but Jake has been creeping up on me lately, and I’m always a sucker for Javy and the rest of the Daggers, too. Basically, I'm open for anything lol.

Feel free to drop them in the comments so others can see them, or DM me if you'd rather! Thanks in advance💚

(I should clarify that I will read as much as possible so long as the dramamine and zofran don't let me down and I don't get car sick)

#fic recommendation request #fic recommendations #tgm fic rec #tgm fanfiction

[ghostussy]

Summertime Sickness

Copia and Secondo x (platonic) Teen Reader with Emetophobia (Fear of throwing up) Request from Ao3

/ / /

TRIGGER WARNING: (slight) mentions of vomit, emetophobia, etc. Reader does not actually throw up. I tried to keep any mentions of sickness brief, because this is for someone with emetophobia.

DISCLAIMER: I don't have emetophobia myself. I did try to do some research on my own, but unfortunately did not find much :( luckily I did have a friend in high school with this so I tried my best. If anyone has any suggestions/issues with the fic, do let me know! I wish to keep this as gentle and respectful as I can.

/ / /

The hallway suddenly feels suffocating to you, and Copia notices your unease.

"What's wrong?"

"Don't feel well."

"'Don't feel well'? Care to elaborate?"

You pause, covering your mouth as waves of nausea surge through you. You lean against the wall for support, panic rising in your throat. "oh- I- Copia," you spoke quickly, fear and desperation in your voice. "Copia, Copia, I'm gonna be sick- papa, I'm gonna be sick!"

"Oh! Bambino mio, stai calmo, respirare... ah, un momento, un momento!" (*1) Listening to his panicked Italian helped to ground you, in a way. Still, you began to gag, tears quickly forming in your eyes and flowing down your cheeks.

Without a second thought, Copia scooped you up in his arms and bolted to the nearest door leading outside. The sudden movement briefly made the nausea worse, and you bury your face in his shoulder.

"Here, dolcezza, let's get some air... breathe, breathe. Respirare."

Outside in Primo's garden, he brings you to a nearby bench. He sets you down, helping you to sit up. Choked sobs exit your mouth as you feel bile creeping up into your throat. "Deep breaths, child. Just breathe for me." He pauses when his phone buzzes; when he checks it, he quickly types for a few seconds before putting it away again. Less than a minute later, Secondo burst through the door holding a bottle of water and a few different bottles of nausea medicine.

"Ciao, stellina, I am deeply sorry to have taken so long... Signore, abbi pietà (*2), you do not look well! Here, have a sip of water."

You accept the open bottle he places in your hands, nodding gratefully. Now that you're outside, the sharp edges of nausea ebb and fade, though still present. You take a sip of water, and the feeling fades even more as the cool liquid chases the burning feeling in your throat. "Thank you."

"Certo, certo... Now, here." He hands you a packet of Dramamine. "This should help."

Copia takes a seat next to you on the bench as you take the pill. You lean your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes and taking in deep breaths, trying to will the remaining panic and nausea away. Being outside helps, the cool summer night's air helping to keep you calm.

"I'm sorry, kiddo. I know it sucks."

"Hmm?" You open your eyes and look at him. Secondo takes a seat on the other side of you, setting the few remaining bottles of nausea medicine off to the side. He places a gentle hand on the middle of your back, rubbing small shapes in an attempt to soothe you. It's working.

You sigh, eyelids fluttering before opening again.

"The, eh... come si dice? Eme... Emetophobia! Si? Ho capito bene? (*3)"

"You... How did you know that?"

"You told me, once."

"And you remember that?"

"Of course," he responds, watching as your head lulls, "I try to remember things like that. You children... ah, I suppose you're closer to an adult now. But many of you children have suffered before you came here. Not many of you were treated with the tenderness that you deserved as a young child; and I feel that it is important to do so now that you're here, even if you're a little older. So yes, I do try to remember such things."

"Oh."

Several minutes pass in silence. You're not sure how long, but it's long enough for the medicine to start working.

The nausea is steadily disappearing, quickly being replaced with drowsiness. You keep your head on Copia's shoulder, enjoying the feeling of Secondo's hand on your back. The two men are warm against the cold night air; in fact, they're the only barrier you have against the cold, since you didn't wear a jacket.

Between the sound of the summer crickets and the Papas' warmth, you're quickly being lulled to sleep. As you bury your face in the crook of his neck, Copia and Secondo exchange knowing glances.

"Kiddo?" Secondo asks.

"Hm...?"

"Are you feeling better?"

Your response is slow, voice lower than normal. "Yeah."

Copia wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close before speaking to Secondo. "Penso che sia ora di andare a letto." (*4)

"Sono d'accordo con te," (*5) he responds.

You don't understand what they're saying, and you don't care to. Copia feels your eyelashes flutter against his skin as your eyelids close once again. A small sigh escapes your lips as you burrow yourself closer to him. He leans his head down to press a small kiss to your cheek before he whispers in your ear, "You're falling asleep."

It takes a minute for you to respond, and he thinks you've actually fallen asleep until you mumble, "am not." It's followed by a yawn.

Secondo lets out a small laugh. "Fratello, do you want to carry them, or should I?"

"I say it's your turn. I carried them out here earlier, and I wasn't even convinced that they weren't going to spill their guts on my cassock!"

"'m awake," you mutter into his neck.

Secondo moves to stand, and you whine at the loss of his hand on your back. You open your eyes to see him right in front of you, kneeling to your height.

You scrunch your nose and rub your eyes. "Sorry, I'm awake. I'll walk."

"Oh? You sure?"

"Yeah. I'm a little old for that anyways."

"Alright."

. . .

"So stubborn," mutters Secondo, who now carries you, fast asleep. "'Five minutes' my ass!"

Copia laughs. "I know. Have you ever met a teenager that wasn't stubborn? Always the same thing; 'papa, I'm not falling asleep, I'm not tired, I'm awake-' liars, the lot of them! Forever sleepy, these kids."

Your head is leaning against his chest, nose and mouth nuzzled into the fabric of his shirt. Mouth slightly agape, soft snores escape your lips; Secondo sighs as he looks over your sleeping face. "Now- which bedroom was theirs again?"

Copia paused. "Aw, shit."

. . .

It was early in the morning when you finally stir. You roll over, bumping into someone. You pry open your bleary eyes, and find yourself face-to-face in between a sleeping Copia and Secondo.

"How in the hell-" you interrupted by a loud snore, and you're not sure which Papa it came from. You giggle and snuggle up close to Copia, wrapping your arms around his middle and resting your head on his stomach. You flinch when he smiles, lazily moving an arm to rest on your back.

"We had to monitor your symptoms, you understand." He opens his eyes, winking at you. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah. I think I slept all night?"

"Si, you did."

You nuzzle your nose into his belly with a soft sigh, followed by another yawn. "That hasn't happened in a while."

"Ah, well- please understand that this does not need to be a one-time occurrence." He pauses. "Well, hopefully the, eh, whole sickness thing is- but you can always come to us if you cannot sleep. Or with anything else, for that matter."

"Grazie, Papa," you tell him, mimicking his Italian accent. "I will."

He chuckles, shifting his body a little. "Okay, piccolo. Do you wish to go back to sleep, or shall we wake Papa Secondo up?"

You close your eyes once more. "I dunno. I'll decide in five minutes."

___ ___ ___

^1: "Oh, my child, stay calm, breathe, breathe... One moment, one moment!"

^2 "Lord have mercy,"

^3 "Eh... How do I say it? . . . Yes? Did I get it right?"

^4 "I think it's time to go to bed."

^5 "I agree with you."

#drabbles #tw: vomit #tw: throwing up #tw: emetophobia #secondo x reader #copia x reader #x teen reader #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #copia comfort #secondo comfort #copia cuddles #secondo cuddles #help what else do I tag this as #uhhhh google translate italian

[deathblacksmoke]

Dramamine—Part 7

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Nick Ruffilo

Series Summary: Cynical, brooding bartender Nick meets too-earnest, pretty boy singer Noah when The Rabbit's Foot starts hosting an open mic night.

CW: angst, hurt/comfort, three-fold new character introduction

Word Count: 1.5K

Author's Note: Brought to you in part by @darksigns-exe, @concretenoah, @circle-with-me, @ladyveronikawrites who helped me work out all the kinks. Thank you everyone for your patience—I'll try to update a little sooner for part 8 <3

dividers by @cafekitsune 💐

He doesn’t know how long he sits in his car, sobs wracking his body, rattling his chest in a way he’ll feel tomorrow.

He can’t stop. He wants nothing more right now than to be home in his bed, but stopping the tears long enough for the drive home feels agonizing.

The idea of being with a stranger in his state makes him feel sick to his stomach—an Uber is out of the question. He’ll worry about his car later. He pulls out his phone and dials, “Can you come get me?”

He feels calmer immediately, hearing the jangle of her keys before he hears the rushed promise that she’s on her way and she’ll be fast. He hears the door slam, knowing that the ever-growing crack will need to be patched sooner rather than later.

Needing the fresh air of the cold night to distract him, he takes a seat on the curb. His panic flashes him a vision of Nick coming outside and seeing him this way, but he pushes it away just as quickly.

The ache engulfs him as he battles with the feeling that he made it all up. He felt something with Nick, something real—a spark when they touched and when they kissed, a blaze when they met eyes, a twinge of something in his chest whenever Nick crossed his mind.

He was so positive of Nick’s reciprocation, that he never would have done this to him. Now he sits, cold and embarrassed, cross-legged on a Museum District sidewalk. The occasional passerby looks down at him in what’s likely a curious pity but reads as disgust, and it feels like hours before Autumn pulls up, beckoning him into the car.

He feels so small as he shrinks into the passenger seat, humiliated as he wipes the tear tracks from his ruddy cheeks. 

His intent was to play it cool, keep silent on the ride home and try to act a little less broken. He just can’t believe he let this happen, and the sobs overtake him again when she rests her hand over his.

“What happened, baby?”

Autumn has seen him in all states of disrepair. She’s been around for longer than he can remember, piecing him back together at every turn. He knows that she would never judge him, but he doesn’t know how many more times he can stomach disappointing her. 

He was so excited about Nick and she knew it. She warned him to be careful—she knows the type—but he didn’t listen. She was wrong about him. He’s not the type she thinks, but he still ended up hurt and let her down again.

A gentle thumb grazing over his hand soothes him. He looks to her and is reminded: She loves you. You need her to stitch up your wounds and she’ll do it gladly.

The pitying look in her eyes as she studies his face doesn’t make him feel shame the way it normally does. He needs her more this time around. He needs her pity.

“He doesn’t want me, Aut,” he sobs, barely getting the words out before he’s pulled into her embrace.

He wakes up in Autumn’s bed to the sound of raised voices. He momentarily wonders if he’s dreaming, before the painful realization that it’s not only real, but they’re yelling about him. The twins’ voices echo through the space, seemingly uncaring of the time. His chest aches, knowing they rarely fight and this time he caused it. A lump rises in his throat that he has to swallow down before it turns into a sob. He doesn’t want to deal with this, too, on top of everything.

“This 6 am inventory was his idea, but he’s in your bed asleep. He’s dropping the ball again,” he hears Everett shouting, unable to react in any real way in his state of mostly asleep. Above everything else, he’s paralyzed by the shame of it all. “It’s his fucking store, Autumn. Beau and I can’t do everything alone.”

“It’s all of our store, and you get paid just as much as he does, Ev,” Autumn shouts back at him, and he would be grateful for her support, if not for how hollow he feels. He wants to go out there and apologize, grow up, get ready for work, but it’s like his limbs have atrophied. He’s stuck to this bed. He’s so numb. “For once in your life, you can step up. Have some compassion for your best friend.” 

The door slams as Everett storms out of the apartment, and he’s sure they’ll be hearing from their landlord about it. Still, he can’t bring himself out of bed. 

It’s not even as if he’s wrong—Noah has been dropping the ball for weeks, and that’s what makes it all worse. He shudders to think that he’s been so selfish to think it’s only impacting him. He reminds himself of all the different ways he’s failed them as a business partner, as a friend, since the night Nick stormed out of their apartment and left him in pieces. The tea mug, the missed shifts, the bad moods.

He’s grateful Autumn stands up for him, but he’s not sure he deserves it this time. For once, he’s positive Everett isn’t overreacting.

Tears fall as he rolls over in bed, facing away from the door. He would do anything to be able to erase these past few weeks, get back to normal faster. The bedroom door opens and closes and he feels her slip back into bed behind him, not crowding his space, but brushing a delicate hand along his arm. 

“Don’t worry about my brother,” she says, an attempt at soothing him. It doesn’t work much, but he finds himself thankful for the gesture anyway. He sniffles, unable to hold back a choked sob. He’ll find it mortifying later. “He’ll cool off. You’re okay.” 

She scooches herself closer to him, and he feels warmer at least, doing his best to relax. A few deep breaths and he allows himself to sink back into the mattress, into her touch, still upset but content to deal with it when the sun’s up.

It’s not much better when he wakes again to light streaming through the blinds, but he has to face it before it all gets too bad. He shoots Everett and Beau a text, an attempt to smooth it over.

Sorry for everything. I promise I’ll make it up to you guys.

He does feel humiliated, but there’s a heaviness in his bones that he can’t shake. He needs at least a day, or a couple, to try to recover from the shock to his system. A romantic disappointment has never felt quite so bad before, and he has to figure out how to cope.

Everett’s response settles him slightly, whether he means it or not, whether it's enough to truly make Noah feel like it's okay.

We’re here for you dude. Sorry you heard us fighting. Just tired.

He’s content to allow himself to accept the calm when Beau’s comes through, pleased that whoever is in charge decided that he’s deserving of a bit of understanding.

Take your time.

The following days pass without incident, feeling better by the day. Being in the store helps him to feel normal, busying himself with alphabetizing, curating the shop soundtrack. 

His friends make sure he isn’t left alone for a moment, thinking they’re being discreet about the shifts they’re clearly taking. He doesn’t necessarily love to feel babied in this way, but he’s grateful for it. It’s needed. In moments that Nick crosses his mind and his heart aches, he feels relief in the comfort of someone there with him.

He’s shuffling through bins, searching for records to shift to the staff recommendations shelf at Autumn and Beau’s request, when he hears his phone ringing in his pocket. He ignores it for a moment, shifting it to silent to finish his task.

His blood runs cold when he checks his notifications. The name on the screen makes him feel he’s seen a ghost. A missed call from Nick, and a text message.

Can we talk?

He’s been hoping in the back of his mind to hear from him. It’s all he’s wanted since he left Nick’s apartment. The draw to him is hard to resist. He doesn’t know if he can handle yet another heartbreak, but the desire to hear him out is intense in a way he can barely stand.

He imagines what his friends would do if they saw the text, if they’d want him to tell Nick to fuck off, if they’d be mad at him for even considering this. He can see Autumn snatching his phone, typing out an eat shit before turning off Noah’s phone and pocketing it for safe-keeping.

Clearly displeased with how long the response is taking, another text comes through.

Please, Noah. I have to talk to you.

He should find Autumn. She would know what to do. She would talk sense into him. Instead, he finds himself typing out a response.

Come by at 8.

Tags: @concretenoah . @circle-with-me . @darksigns-exe . @ladyveronikawrites . @agravemisstake . @monotoniscreaming . @cookiesupplier . @bngurngheart . @jiizzy . @screamsinsilver . @iknownothingpeople . @anameunmusical

#bad omens fic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens rpf #nick ruffilo fic #nick ruffilo fanfiction #nick ruffilo rpf #nicholas ruffilo fic #nicholas ruffilo fanfiction #nicholas ruffilo rpf #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian rpf #noah sebastian x nick ruffilo #noah sebastian x nicholas ruffilo #deathblacksmoke works #fic: dramamine

[emetoniche]

Hi there! Happy Sunday Sickness!

I have a question, based off your poll. Which one of your characters get airsick? Who gets seasick? And who's lactose intolerant? (you know asking for totally innocent reasons)

Haha, yup, tottttalllly innocent… Right, so, funnily enough, Eddie gets both airsick and seasick, which is ironic because his boyfriend is obsessed with flying and has a pilot’s license, and they all live on the coast of California, which is where Eddie grew up, so surfing is a big hobby of his. He really only gets seasick on boats though. Waves on his surfboard don’t faze him in the least, but something about the motion of the boat under his feet just brings the poor guy rushing to the boat’s edge.

Now, in terms of lactose intolerance, that would be my Justie boi. (Not completely obvious that he’s my favorite, cuz we don’t pick favorites here… And torturing someone with constant stomach problems is totally not something someone would do to their favorite OC… 😏) He just in general has a pretty fucking weak stomach. He also gets airsick, though not seasick for God knows what reason.

And finally, not spoiling the big surprise in my next fic at all, Darius also gets airsick. He suffers from mild vertigo issues here and there, nothing too bad, but it’s much worse in any sort of vehicle. If he takes Dramamine, he’s perfectly fine, but when he forgets… Hoo boi, not a pretty picture…

#emeto #Not picking favs at aalllllllll #My Justie bio just constantly getting tortured in all shapes and forms of tummy sick #Did not at all spoil the big reveal coming up in a few days

[nose-coffee]

Tag nine (9) people you’d like to know better

tagged by @wifegideonnav

last song: The Ending of "Dramamine" by Car Seat Headrest (a song that bills itself as 14 minutes long but is actually a six minute song with a five minute intro and a three minute outro. slaps tho. the bridge is trancendent. the chorus is boppin. the lyrics make me think of griddlehark and cry.)

currently watching: tbh i'm really not a person who watches tv shows? my adhd hates it lol. i accidentally watched a chunk of ted lasso s3 the other day w my parents if that counts? i had no clue what was happening tho lol

currently reading: just got my hands on a copy of Deepwater Bride by Tamsyn Muir so i'm gonna dive into that pretty soon!

current obsession: oh. you know. tlt. writing fics for tlt. making memes abt the fics i'm writing for tlt.

oh god okay tagging @muppetebbtide @theriverbeyond @twink-with-an-agenda @mercymornsimpathizer @b1cr1ptic @aceme8201 @nercynorning @arithmonym @taylachan (sorry if any of y'all have already done this i haven't been keeping track)

#my post #fuck off lou #ask game #sorry im boring lol #i could talk abt music for literal hours tho

[steve-keychain]

bruh you gotta answer about dramamine please please please

It's a roadtrip fic set right before the Wedding ep!!! Idk if anything concrete is ever going to come from it, but it's been fun to write so far. Here's a snippet:

this fic also opens with Guillermo running Nandor over with the g-wagon

#i am excited about enough of this fic that it /will/ probably get published eventually #THANK YOU CASPER I LOV TALKIGNGN ABT FIC #<3 <3 <3 <3 <3

[goodkwuestion]

Okay, not a question, but just wanted to tell you how excited I am for this fic. Overly flirty Mickey is the cutest and can’t wait to see more of it!!

If you're a fan of Flirty!Mickey and clueless idiots flirting in general, my friend, then this is the fic for you.

They're going to be nauseating. I already have my Dramamine and bucket ready and I'm the one writing this mess. @screechingsharkqueen knows how I am with the mush.

#I can dish it out but can I take it? #glad you're along for the ride! #good question #asks