#one very small mention of emeto

[shion-yu]

Cabin Pressure

My entry for the spot "New Things" for @hurtcomfort-bingo. 5,366 words, one part, no TWs. Introducing OCs Ryo (toyhouse) and Alex, Shu's adult son. Ft. sick Ryo while away on a work conference with a rival and air travel.

Even though good grades had never been his forte, Ryo had gotten through veterinary school with flying colors. He had an innocent charm that made people gravitate towards him and he'd quickly become the favorite of all his professors. They loved his cheerful energy, his genuine enthusiasm and his kind heart, so he had a job the day he graduated. His classmate, Nathan - valedictorian and class grump - started at the same clinic with him. Ryo was happy to know a face at work already; Nathan was fed up with Ryo before they even began their new jobs.

Their relationship was a love-hate one, although who did the loving and who did the hating was unbalanced. They were the definite Ying and Yang of the clinic, but it surprisingly worked despite their bickering. The two worked skillfully together, each one's strengths making up for the other's weaknesses.

Because they had been in the same class it was assumed they were friendly and work decided it'd be a great idea to send their two new veterinarians to a conference together - with plane tickets next to each other both ways and a hotel room they'd have to share. Neither new DVM had ever been to a conference and they were both very excited - but not necessarily about going together. Nathan, at least, made no attempts to hide his distaste about having to share this experience with Ryo. He didn't want to cause drama at his new job though, so he didn't complain, at least not directly.

On the morning of their departure, Nathan's mother drove him to the airport and bid her goodbyes. As he stood in line for security, Nathan spotted Ryo from afar clearly having an impassioned parting with his boyfriend. Nathan couldn't remember the boyfriend’s name, but he'd seen the blonde guy a few times at various events before and knew he rarely smiled. He seemed very different from Ryo, but opposites attracted. Not him and Ryo though; they were too opposite. Nathan was sure they'd never really be friends.

Ryo took no notice of his audience and after kissing Alex yet again and making him promise he'd take care of himself - "I left healthy meals in the fridge for you, so they better be gone by the time I'm home!" - he waved a final goodbye and got in line for security. Nathan attempted to blend in with the crowd as inconspicuosly as possible, but his bothersome and startlingly white-haired colleague was impossible to avoid once they boarded the plane. Nathan grit his teeth and replied stiffly to Ryo's all-too-cheerful greeting. The conference was only three days long, but because it was out of state they'd be gone for four nights. Nathan wasn’t sure if he was going to survive being paired with Ryo that long without letting him have a piece of his mind, but he bit his tongue for now.

His resolve didn't last long. While the flight was uneventful and so was finding their hotel room, Nathan couldn't hold back any longer when Ryo video chatted his boyfriend and became completely insufferable, oozing affection and sappiness that made Nathan want to puke. It was all "baby" this and "love" that, punctuated by frequent giggles and kisses.

"Jesus, get a room! A different room!" Nathan burst out shamelessly, looking pissed as all get out. He'd lasted longer than he'd expected actually, about twenty minutes into the sickly sweet conversation.

Ryo looked up from his call, surprised at first and then giving Nathan an annoyingly smirk. "Don't tell me you're stuck in the 50s, Nathan," he said.

Nathan huffed. "Not at all. Seriously. You're just annoying as hell."

Ryo glanced back at the call where Alex, who knew only vaguely of Nathan's distaste for his boyfriend, had a confused and concerned look on his face. "Don't worry," Ryo smiled. "He's probably just tired." He ignored the tidbit next to him of 'Yeah, of your yapping.' "I'll call you tomorrow baby. I love you so much, like super much. I wish you were next to me. Okay, bye." He winked and with a quick little air kiss, ended the call.

"You sound like a hung up little girl," Nathan muttered. "Still in your honeymoon phase?"

Ryo chuckled. He didn't take it personally and he was in a good mood from checking on Alex. "No. We've been dating for like... Nine years?" Nathan looked surprised at this answer, which only amused Ryo further. The truth was, he knew why Nathan disliked him and in a slightly mischievous way thought it was funny to poke the beast.

"Well, you could at least go in the hallway if you're gonna talk that long every night," Nathan huffed and turned over. "I'm going to sleep."

"Goodnight, sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite," Ryo chimed.

"That's not even funny," Nathan muttered. He heard Ryo laugh before the lights were turned off. It was going to be a long five days, he thought before he fell asleep.

The first day of the conference went by smoothly. Both Ryo and Nathan really enjoyed themselves, Nathan making an active effort to sit as far away as possible from his former classmate so he didn't have to hear that painfully cheerful laugh any more than he had to. Ryo texted his boyfriend a few times throughout the day just to let him know when he was on a break or lunch, but for the most part he was unavailable by phone until after they'd finished dinner and he was back in their hotel room.

They were both pretty tired at the end of the day, despite how well it went. So Ryo didn't go into the hall because he knew it was be short - he just called Alex on video call and smiled when his boyfriend picked up. At least he used earbuds this time, though. "Hi, my sweet boyfriend." He could feel the other side of the room grow colder and stifled a laugh. "How was your day? I'm sorry I couldn't call earlier. It's really busy all day, and the other days look the same," he explained.

"I'm good. Busy, too," Alex said. Ryo nodded along and whole he didn't actually notice himself doing it, he was absently rubbing his temple to ease a small headache that spread down the side of his slightly pale face. He assumed he was just tired and that it was nothing even worth mentioning. He was far more happy to see his boyfriend's face and get visual confirmation that Alex was doing fine, anyways. Ryo hadn't expected otherwise, but he had valid reasons to worry about Alex being on his own. Sure, Shu was on the other side of town if anything happened, but still.

"The cats asked where the hell ya are," Alex said. "And since you spoil them, I had to get up with 'em at 6am, so thanks for that. Do you like your conference so far?"

"I do! I learned some really interesting things and met some cool people,” Ryo said.

"And Nathan? Is he being any nicer?"

Ryo glanced over at Nathan who was using his phone with his jaw clenched hard. "Nicer, no, but not meaner either. He's not really mean, just a grump. Apparently I'm too loud and smiley is all," Ryo finished with a flourish of a smile. Nathan seemed to be ignoring him clearly talking about him in favor of playing some game. Ryo chuckled, but then that turned into a surprising little sneeze that he didn't have time to hide from the camera. He sniffled, wiping his nose sheepishly. "Excuse me," he said to Alex.

"Bless you," Alex said. "You okay?"

"Thanks, I’m fine," Ryo said. He rubbed his watering eyes. "A bit tired." He yawned which then turned into a second sneeze, rougher than the first one. "Ugh, sorry. The air was really dry on the plane," he explained. "Anyways, I'm heading to bed." Plus if he talked for too long Nathan might kill him. "I'll call you tomorrow night. I love you," he said sweetly and then hung up. Nathan didn't make any comments. Ryo prepared for bed and then fell asleep very quickly. It was good to get some rest after such a busy day.

The second day of the conference went much like the first. Ryo was charming and friendly with everyone and made several connections, which was ultimately what this conference was about. He gave his best smile and a few people even told him they liked his hair. Ryo was used to his hair being his most memorable and defining feature. He figured it helped him stand out - in a good way (hopefully).

The only problem was, Ryo's headache from yesterday seemed not to have gone away with sleep. In fact, it actually felt like it had worsened and his right ear was aching. He rubbed it absently throughout the day, trying to get the pain to go away but to no avail. By the time the day was over, his throat had started to feel scratchy too. Thinking he really didn't want to get sick right now, Ryo decided to chalk it up to dry air and cabin pressure on the flight here. That was common, right? When they were back in the hotel he did purchase some Tylenol and emergen-c from the lobby store, which he downed with the optimistic hope that he’d feel fine tomorrow.

By the time he called Alex, Ryo was ready for bed and so chanced video calling his boyfriend from the room yet again with the expectation that things would be short. Nathan glared at him and smacked his teeth in disapproval from where he was sitting on the other bed. Ryo chuckled and greeted Alex happily when he picked up after only two rings. "Hi baby," Ryo said in a voice that was only a little scratchy, but noticeable to his boyfriend who he talked to every day. "Are you doing okay? Did you eat?"

"I'm fine. I just ate. You sound hoarse," Alex said.

"I'm assuming you ate one of the meals I made for you, not junk food, right?" Ryo asked for his own reassurance. Gosh, he thought, when did he become such a mother hen? He cleared his throat with a grimace and touched his fingertips to the tender area lightly. "My throat's a little sore but I don't think I'll lose my voice," he said optimistically. "I have too much to say!"

"Way too much," Nathan piped in loudly.

Alex frowned. "Want me to beat him up?"

"Shh, don't bother poor Nathan, he's just mad he doesn't have a boyfriend as good as you," Ryo giggled.

"What?! Am not!" That only made Ryo laugh more. Unfortunately this irritated his already sore throat and he ended up falling into a small coughing fit. It didn't sound terrible, but it also didn't sound great. He tried to hide how uncomfortable it was for him and shifted his position on the bed. His body was aching like he'd taken a long walk today, even though he hadn't.

"Maybe you should skip tomorrow. Are you okay?" Alex asked in concern.

Ryo waved one hand in the air casually when he was done coughing. He ears and head were throbbing in time with his body. "Yeah, totally," he said, but he was only partially confident by now. "It's the last day and well... Don't worry about me." He grabbed a tissue off the nightstand and blew his nose loudly. A surprisingly considerable quantity of snot came out. Not the best sign, he thought to himself grimly. "I'll call you tomorrow night. Only tonight and tomorrow and then I'll be with you," he smiled fondly. He looked seriously exhausted though. "Come pick me up, okay?" It was only words, because of course he knew Alex would pick him up.

The morning of the last day of the conference, Ryo's minor aches and pains had turned into a full blown fever overnight. He'd tossed uncomfortably and moaned fitfully in his sleep. It hadn't kept Nathan up, but he'd fallen asleep after Ryo and definately noticed it. Nathan told himself he had no business worrying about anyone else, especially his annoying coworker. However in the morning when they got up and Ryo looked dramatically rougher than yesterday, Nathan couldn't help but feel his stomach pang with pity. He wasn't a total monster after all.

Nathan cleared his throat and asked as casually as possible, "Hey, are you okay?" He hoped his voice maintained a quality of carelessness.

Ryo was slow in responding to him, which was unusual since Ryo always seemed to be able to come up with the peppiest thing to get under his skin in seconds. He was downing a handful of Tylenol when Nathan asked and swallowed before answering. Nathan noticed Ryo winced as he did so, as if it pained him. "Just a little cold," Ryo croaked, putting one thumb up in Nathan's direction. "I'm flattered you care though." Nathan rolled his eyes and decided if Ryo was well enough to still be cheeky, then he was well enough that he didn't need to be worried about.

"You better not get me sick too," Nathan huffed.

"I'll wear a mask," Ryo reassured him. The painful sounding coughs that followed convinced Nathan that it was probably too late anyways. But he told himself that Ryo didn't need someone to fuss over him and if he did, it wouldn't be Nathan of all people.

Ryo was not the focus of Nathan's thoughts for the rest of the day, given they sat separately. He did hear someone coughing and sneezing a lot across the room, but didn't quite connect it to the fact that it was Ryo until he saw his roommate at lunch looking, well, god awful. His face was flushed red and despite continuing to interact with other people, he looked completely exhausted. At least he’d bothered to put on a mask now.

Ryo didn't just look bad, he felt bad. He was still telling himself it was just a little cold, but the headache, earache and now fever seemed to be persistent despite the Tylenol he was consistently drugging himself with. It was the last day though, which was important for getting peoples' contact information and sealing connections, so he pushed himself despite getting progressively colder and achier throughout the day. He fielded off any texts from Alex asking how he was doing with some particularly cheerful emojis and forced himself not to drag his feet. By dinner - which was a big event because of it being the last night - Ryo had zero appetite and the thought of eating seemed repulsive. But he went anyways, trying to stifle his coughs and sneezes with some success and ignoring the mix of worried and annoyed glances he was getting. Afterward dinner, almost everybody was going to the hotel bar. Ryo didn't feel up to more, let alone drinking, but again it seemed important and so he forced himself to go and ordered a shot of fireball in the hopes that it'd warm him from the inside out.

He decided to call Alex before he forgot and it became too late. He sequestered himself into a quieter corner of the hall, pulling the mask down to his chin. No video though, it was too chaotic and anyways, Alex didn’t need to see how rough he looked now. Alex picked up quickly. "Hi baby,” Ryo said. “Everyone is going to the bar now, so by the time we're done I bet you'll be asleep. So I wanted to say goodnight and I can't wait to see you tomorrow!" His feeble voice left little to the imagination even without a video.

"You sound sick as hell," Alex said right away. "Go to bed."

Ryo chuckled hoarsely. It didn't sound very encouraging. "Maybe I have a little cold," he admitted before he could stop himself. It seemed fireball on a mostly empty stomach was hitting his already woozy head harder than he'd expected. He pulled the phone away from his warm cheek and muffled a sneeze that was much more painful than the ones yesterday. He resisted the urge to groan and pinched the bridge of his nose as if it would ease the pain in his head. "I'll sleep on the couch when I get home and wear a mask, so don't hug me too tight," he instructed Alex. His heart hurt a little saying those words because all he wanted was to be in his boyfriend's arms at the moment.

"Are you stupid? I'm going to take care of you,” Alex snorted, direct as always.

Ryo sighed, which made him cough for a moment. "Okay, well, still. Keep your distance," Ryo said. "I'm still happy to see you tomorrow though. Bye baby. Love you." He hung up before Alex could nag him any more.

Ryo managed to drink another beer and suffer through a few more fruitful interactions between he genuinely felt like he was going to pass out. Everything seemed to be floating by him as if he were on a cruise and he was quite surprised when Nathan slid next to him, eyed him critically, and then shook his head. "You definately should not be drinking," he heard his hotel roommate say critically. "Go to bed. You look terrible."

Ryo raised a tired eyebrow but shook his head, too worn to come up with a witty response other than, "Gee thanks. I'm fine." He said this with the conviction only someone with Ryo's specific brand of idiocy could muster. "It’s just a cold."

Nathan snorted. "You said that this morning, but you clearly have a fever." To Ryo's surprise Nathan placed the back of his hand against his cheek to feel how hot it was. He tried to hold back the small groan that escaped his lips, but the cool feeling of another person's skin just felt so good. God he missed Alex. "You're burning up." Ryo’s eyes fluttered open and was disappointed when Alex wasn't the person sitting across from him. Still, the look of genuine concern on Nathan's face gave him enough energy to push Nathan's hand away with a tight smile.

"I'm-"

"If you say you're fine again, I'm seriously going to punch you," Nathan snapped. Ryo shut up. He stayed silent, though now in shock as Nathan grabbed his wrist and pulled him off the bar stool. He was then forcibly led to the elevator, stumbling with dizziness. He opened his mouth to complain, but the glare from Nathan was enough to keep him quiet until they got to their room and Nathan sat him on the bed with his hands on Ryo's shoulders. "Sleep, you moron," Nathan insisted angrily.

Ryo was way too tired to argue and at this point, had no energy to call Alex again. Alex was on his mind though, and he couldn't help but smile to himself thinking about how he'd be reunited with his boyfriend tomorrow. Regardless, he wasn't aware that his phone had now died, leaving any call attempts Alex may or may not have made for the rest of the evening to go directly to voicemail and his texts to go unread.

Ryo fell asleep quickly. Vaguely, he remembered someone trying to wake him up around one in the morning, shaking his shoulder and saying something quite loudly. He whined and shut his eyes tightly to ward off the light that had been turned on. He heard whoever it was sigh and then a cold washcloth was placed on his forehead. He moaned and tried to pull the thing off, but the frustrated other party growled and forced if back into place.

"Jesus, how does he deal with you every day? Nine years... How the hell?" Some level of recognition regarding the scenario processed in Ryo's brain and even so sick, he couldn't help but laugh. "If you're conscious enough to laugh at me then you're fine," he heard Nathan huff, which only made him chuckle more until he was stopped by his own harsh coughing. The deep voice grew gentler and he felt a hand on his back rubbing circles until the coughing died down. "Just go back to sleep. We'll be home tomorrow."

The night felt like it lasted so much longer than it did. By morning Nathan was exhausted and agitated from having to play nurse all night. He scowled as he had to physically support Ryo into the rideshare they took to the airport. Ryo's fever, despite Nathan's reluctant tending overnight (prompted by a series of pained moans and violent shaking that even Nathan hadn't been able to ignore), had not gone down at all. In fact it seemed to be even higher. Nathan would rather drop Ryo off at a hospital to be their problem, but they were in an unfamiliar place with a flight to catch. He just needed to drag Ryo home and hand him over to his boyfriend, Nathan told himself a little desperately.

When they exited the cab, Nathan hoisted Ryo out of the car, throwing one of Ryo's arms around his shoulders for support. Ryo could walk at least, but he seemed totally out of it and unaware of what was happening. Nathan was kind of glad for that though, because he wouldn't have been able to bear the humiliation of Ryo being fully conscious during all of this. He half dragged Ryo through security and luckily Ryo wasn't stopped with the suspicion of being drunk, although Nathan wasn't sure how. Maybe Ryo's charm extended so far it could even trick TSA, Nathan thought dryly. The same routine applied as he got Ryo onto the plane and buckled him in, muttering an embarassed, "Excuse me" as he did the all too intimate task for his rival.

Most of the flight went fine. Nathan kept Ryo medicated even though it didn't seem to do anything and tolerated Ryo slumping over to sleep on his shoulder. At least he wasn't saying annoying stuff, Nathan thought to himself. And thank God it was a direct flight.

It was when they began their descent that Ryo seemed to regain awareness for all the wrong reasons. At first he was just covering his ears with his hands, but then Nathan realized he was crying in pain. He touched Ryo's shoulder nervously and the pathetic look of desperation that he got in response seriously scared him.

"My head's gonna explode. It hurts so bad," Ryo whimpered, tears streaming down his blotchy face. Nathan didn't know what to do. He didn't have any experience in helping someone with this, but he knew if Ryo's head had hurt before it was probably unbearable now. He settled for resting one hand on Ryo's knee and squeezed. Ryo placed his hand over Nathan's and held on so tight it hurt.

The remaining descent was a nightmare for both of them. Ryo was doubled over in pain worse than anything he'd ever experienced before and Nathan was terrified that Ryo's ears were actually going to explode. Eventually though, they reached the runway. Nathan waited for everyone else to get off the plane first before he tried to get Ryo off, not wanting to draw attention from the other passengers.

"Ryo, get up," he said gruffly, trying to pull his schoolmate up by the armpit. He froze when Ryo clapped his hand over his mouth and looked at Nathan in panic. "Shit, are you gonna barf?" Ryo nodded frantically and Nathan didn't spare another second before yanking him up and aggressively throwing Ryo into the plane bathroom just in time. One of the stewardesses came to move them along with an inpatient expression which softened when she heard the noises from inside the toilet and let them be.

Nathan waited about five minutes before he knocked. "Ryo, we gotta get off," he said. "Are you alive?" No answer. Nathan waited another thirty seconds before he yanked the door open and saw Ryo looking deathly pale, barely supporting himself against the sink from falling on the floor. He looked at Nathan with teary, guilty eyes. There was vomit on his chin.

"Shouldn'ta drank last night," he rasped, like this was the reason behind the puking and not the unbearable head pain that had made him puke. Nathan made a distasteful face in response at both the vomit and the feeling of exasperation washing over him. They were almost at the finish line, he told himself. "Let's go. Your boyfriend is waiting," Nathan said. He grabbed one of the towels and wiped Ryo's chin off, throwing the paper into the toilet in disgust and then pulling Ryo down the aisle.

The promise of reuniting with his beloved seemed to give Ryo just enough energy to get off the plane and allow Nathan to drag him through the airport to arrivals, where he quickly spotted Alex waiting for Ryo. A wave of intense relief washed over Nathan. Alex immediately looked worried as soon as he saw Nathan supporting Ryo until Nathan basically shoved Ryo into Alex's arms.

"Here, he's yours. He's sick as hell and owes me big time," Nathan snapped. He honestly never wanted to see Ryo again. Except maybe to make sure he was alive, that'd be good. Then he stalked off to find his mom, ignoring any words of protest and leaving Alex alone to support his boyfriend and his raging temperature.

Ryo was pretty out of it and just happy to be reunited with Alex who had to half drag, half support him back to the car. Ryo stared at the high step up into the truck for a long moment as if the task of getting in were too hard for him to comprehend, but eventually he crawled in with a boost from Alex. He leaned back in the passenger seat, breathing hard and fast.

Alex began to drive, glancing up frequently at his miserable boyfriend. "Ryo, wake up," he said. "What hurts?"

"Hurts? Um... My ears... And head... And everything else." He gave a delirious chuckle.

Alex stopped at urgent care on the way home to get Ryo checked out. He was really worried - he hadn’t expected Ryo to be this sick. Plus, Ryo was better at doing this kind of stuff - the planning and caring and tending to. Ryo leaned against him and his hot cheek felt like it seared Alex's shoulder. They gave Roy a test for flu and strep, which came back positive for strep.

“It looks like a nasty sinus infection with a double ear infection, too,” the doctor told them. Ryo was leaning against Alex, trusting Alex to deal with it all now. It was such a relief to not have to push himself anymore. He knew Alex would take care of him. “He’s lucky his eardrums didn’t actually pop," the doctor added. Alex wasn’t sure why he had to say that and glared at him.

Ryo slept much of the next twenty four hours after the ordeal of getting home. The following day he was lying on the couch dazed and feverish with a blank look in his eyes. Sinus infections could be a funny thing. While rarely extremely serious, they often just seemed to stick around imparting misery as the main symptom. For Ryo this was true, especially when combined with the strep throat have gave him a fever that just didn't want to break despite Alex staying on top of medications. The stress on Ryo's body from travel and especially from the pressure of the plane had made things worse than they probably would have been under normal circumstances. His head felt fuzzy and heavy, and he seemed unable to get through many coherent thoughts before losing focus.

"Nathan took care of me, baby," Ryo mumbled as Alex stroked his hair. "He did a good job. I'll have to make it up to him somehow."

"You don't owe him anything," Alex said. Ryo's head was in his lap on the couch and he could feel how warm Ryo still was despite Tylenol. "It's not like you got sick on purpose."

"I guess not. I'll still buy him a gift card or something though. I'm pretty annoying." Alex didn't disagree with that. Ryo was excitable at best and unbearably loud at worst. He was a hard core introvert's nightmare and Alex himself had been intimidated and annoyed by him when they first met. He didn't think Nathan had to be that rude to Ryo though. Only Alex was allowed to be that rude to him.

That evening, Alex was in the kitchen warming up some light soup out of a can on the stove. Ryo had little to no appetite, but Alex insisted he had to eat something. It was reverse from their usual position, which amused Ryo because Ryo was always the one insisting that Alex eat something that didn't come out of a plastic wrapper. He had on a big sweater, wool socks and their two warmest blankets on top, yet he still felt cold. His face was terribly pale other than his flushed cheeks and he was sniffling pathetically every few seconds. In a way he still felt like he was on the plane - like there was some pressure coming from inside his head that threatened to burst out painfully everywhere: his eyes, his ears, his nose. He wanted to help Alex tidy the house after his days away, because of course Alex had fallen behind on the chores. But all he could do was lie there miserably.

Alex came over with the bowl of soup and sat at Ryo's feet, handing it to him. Or attempted to, but Ryo shook his head and kept his arms planted under his blanket pile. "You need to eat," Alex sighed in annoyance.

"I'm weak," Ryo whined dramatically. "Help me."

Alex rolled his eyes, but spoon fed Ryo the soup anyways. "Dont make eye contact with me," Alex snapped at him when Ryo made yet another laughably doe eyed baby face. "I'll spill it all over you."

"Then you'd have to clean it up," Ryo said confidently.

"Then you'd be covered in soup and you'd have to clean it up," Alex muttered.

"Alex, move, ahh-" Alex yanked a spoonful of soup away just in time to avoid letting Ryo spray it all over him from the force of several harsh sneezes. Ryo groaned in pain. "I'mb sorry," he rasped out. Sneezing was seriously painful given his raw throat and aching head.

"It's okay, I got out of the way in time," Alex reassured him. He glanced down at the bowl to find it half empty. "Are you full?"

"Yes," Ryo sniffled. "Ugh. This is the worst sinus infection I've ever had." He rubbed his forehead which was throbbing with sinus pressure.

"I'm sorry, Ry," Alex said sympathetically. He tried to think of anything else be could do, but he was hardly a natural born caretaker. Still, he racked his brain until he came up with something Shu had done for him once when he had strep throat that had been surprisingly comforting. "I could read to you. Might distract you."

"Really?" Ryo asked in surprise. Alex was rarely so tender. "That does sound nice, but... What's the catch?"

"There is no catch, asshole," Alex huffed. "Do you want there to be one? I obviously don't have to read to you if you don't want me to. Forget I asked." He was blushing and Ryo knew he had to run damage control before this became an argument.

"No! I want you to," Ryo reassured his short-tempered partner. "I was just surprised. Read to me, please. It sounds nice.”

Alex nodded and grabbed the book he’d been reading recently off the bedside table. He didn’t bother giving any context - he knew Ryo wouldn’t care and would soon fall asleep. He just read from where he was while petting Ryo’s head on his lap until he heard Ryo’s congested breath turn into even snores. He put the book down and leaned over to kiss Ryo his head hot temple. Ryo would bounce back from this in no time, Alex thought to himself. He wasn’t worried. But he would take care of his lover for as long as he needed to, no strings attached.

#shionwrites #sick while traveling #kinda a slow ramp up bc I was introducing the characters but the juicy stuff happens in the second half #and by juicy I mean suffering #sick on a plane #reluctant caretaker #sickfic #whump #male whump #sick whump #fever whump #oc: Ryo #oc: Alex #hurt comfort #hurtcomfortbingo #new things #one very small mention of emeto #illness whump #flu whump

[thebottomfromhell]

What the demon kids do when their parent reader when he is not feeling well ? İ really liked your parent figure reader

This one I will make it GN, you have also asked me by chat to make one of Mother reader, but that one I will leave it for later.

To keep the GN terms, the kids will be calling Reader "Oya", which means "either mother or father" or "both mother and father" depending on the context.

GN parent Human Reader get's sick and is taken care by their demon kid

Warnings: Mentioned cannibalism, Emeto (not in a kinky way, obviously), Other gross content related to bwing sick.

Daki (ft. Gyutaro):

"OOOONIIIIIIIIII-CHAAAAAAAAAN" Daki screams at the top of her lungs. Your head already hurted bad enough, to the point you keep you eyes close, the light of the district is too intense, just like the cold (but it's mid summer). You can hear Gyutaro groan as he gets out of Daki's back, the sound of flesh forming and streching being as gross as the flavor in your mouth. Your stomach contracts, you forced yourself to eat normaly before coming and now you are regreting it. You can feel the phlegm and some acid pieces of what you ate at your throat. "SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH MY OYA! HE IS RED AMD TREMBLING!" You can feel the older brother's hand in your face, feeling a pleasant cold against your skin. That is weird, Daki is the cold one, Gyutaro has always felt too hot before.

""Your aya" is sick. Ne. Piece of shit! Why are you worrying my sister, ne?! If you are sick you should have stayed in bed!" You want to say that you are fine, but the pain and content in your throat don't let you. Of course you would get sick. You were fine enough when you left home, besides the lack of appetite. Still, that is coming back to you, you throw up, making Gyutaro back down to not get himself dirty, at least not more as some barf reaches his pants as he was kneeling before you. "EEEWWWW!" Daki reacts a lot more than him, who just looks a bit disgusted before actually hiving orders to her. "Take Y/N to our room to lie down. Get tea, a lot of tea, and some incense too. I will clean myself, find things to re-stock and see if I cat get medicine or shit." She does as told, getting you into some beddings, letting yourself cover up. She knows how to boil a good tea, that is part of her job, she sometimes also uses incese when some clients just smell awful, so she can do that too.

The air is hot, also the drink, but it helps a little. Still, you are very tired, you want to sleep, but Daki stops you. "No! Onii-chan said you needed a lot of tea! You only had a cup! Drink the whole keetle!" She orders before serving you more, fully trusting her brother's choice. You obey as she keeps helping you drink, kneeling besides you, moving crawling in a rather childish way. "Will you be ok?" She asks worried, still not letting you sleep, not knowing if she is supposed to. She never took care of anyone like this, never had to since Gyutaro was the one who helped her when she got sick, not the other way around.

You use your energy to keep your eyes open and smile to her as she reach your hand and presses it against her cheek, thankfully you already finished a small keetle. "I will be fine, Daki. I promise, I just need to sleep." Even the hoarse tone in your voice is painful, but she nods, not letting your hand go, as she watches over you. She won't let anything happen to you.

Kaigaku:

Kaigaku still remembers how it feels to be sick, is a very alive memory, as if it was yesterday. But yestarday he was a demon, just like today, and so he can't get sick. He is still getting used to that idea, but you? You are a human, you can get sick. You are sick. "You are an idiot, you oya." He says as he puts a piece of cloth he just cooled down with father in your forehead as he doesn't let you get out of bed. Kaigaku has a fair idea of what to do when someone is sick, he has seen the adults on the temple take care of other children, and more often than not some were asked to help taking care of the younger kids.

As you might guess, he hates doing this, taking care of others. In his eyes it was always a waste of time, one can barely survive on their own and everyone else wants them to think about some other. Really, he never allowed anyone to see him vulnerable, unless it was what he needed to survive, but besides that... he had pride, ambitions, he wantes to rise from where he started, and so he never let anyone take care of him when he was sick. Kaigaku wonders if he would having met you before being turned into a demon. "We don't have medicine, you will have to sleep and sweat this off." He says as he rubs gently the piece of cloth, it heated up too fast for his liking, making him scoff.

"Thank you.... for taking care of me." You tell Kaigaku in a weak and tired voice, so far he has been doing a good job with it, which thank goodness. You might just pass out, your throat is irritated, your eyelids heavy, and everything is too hot and cold at the same time, fluids in your body make it hard to breath and your head just feels as if something burning was preassuring into dizziness and sting. The kid is not only showing he cares by nurturing you this time, but he is putting an effort, which you refuse to leave unnoticed. He stops himself for some seconds.

Nobody has ever thanked him before for doing this things, noticed the discomfort or effort he put, treated it as if it was "his responsibility to the others, since he is older and has been through the same situation". It's nice... to not be taken for granted. You are nice to him in general, the only adult that cared for him not because he cares about orphan children in general, but cares about Kaigaku.... "Just rest for now, I will take care of the rest." That was what it took for him to care too, and that is enough. You do as he tells you, trusting that you will neither feel better when you wake up... or feel worse but be in middle of healing, still, both are good.

Zohakuten:

Ok, Zohakuten is not panicking, of course not. He is the strongest form of Uppermoon 4, the mix of the four clones and the best protector the main body will ever have! Of course he can deal with anything! "Fu- uuuuuurgh..... I feel like I will pass out....." Except now you are throwing up, skin red and trembling violently. THE FUCK IS ZOHAKUTEN SUPPOSED TO DO?! He never took care of anything that is not the main body, and that was only killing those humans who hunted him down, taking advantage of his smaller size! The cowardice! The evil!

"Wait. Wait. Don't pass out here. Don't...." he stops talking to back off the second you start to gag, clearly wanting to throw up. Really, what is he supposed to do?! He has never been sick! He is a demon! And he has never been around anyone sick! He has no idea what to do! "Can... can you hold it up? Just for me to take you home?" He asks looking around, as if someone or something would tell him the information he needs or calm him down. You nod, feeling both stomach and throat contracting in acid and heat, already smelling the vomit. It's disgusting, but your whole body feels disgusting as it's sweaty and snotty, without adding how tired you feel.

Zohakuten uses his drums, playing in the lowest volume he can as he commands his wooden dragons to bring you both home. To your home, where you should be able to rest. Rest will heal this, right? Maybe eating something? Demons always heal faster after eating, but he feels is not the case as a sudden movement makes you ho to the edge of the dragon and throw up whatever you ate the last. Not for the first time Zohakuten wishes he could physically meet the rest of the clones, to have someone to guide him. You have taken up that rol, but now you are not in position to tell him how to take care of this. "Oya...."

He grabs you in his arms once you botth arrive, helping you into the beddings. "I will bring some tea. Please stay awake." It takes him a while as he goes back to the kitchen as he remembers to add more water, to filter the leaves and to boil the water, but he manages to bring some tea. "Tha-thank you..." damn, it hurt to speak, but you still smile at the kid. He looks at you a bit sad. "Sorry... I'm not good at this." You spend the rest of the time awake comforting him, until you do pass out because of the headache and tiredness. It seems Zohakuten got creative you did, because you woke up with a kidnapped doctor taking care of you... you'll talk to the kid once you feel better, not before, so he gets out without being scolded this time. This. Time.

#demon slayer #kny #upper moons #zohakuten #daki #kaigaku #gyutaro

[danafeelingsick]

Emetophile K.aeya Headcanons

warning: these are suggestive! contains emeto and descriptions of vomit, mentions of alcohol. n.sfw hcs will be under the cut!

K.aeya had been into puke pretty much since the first time he's gotten himself drunk. He loves feeling nauseous, be it for being too full, or too drunk, the danger of throwing up out of nowhere is exciting.

Kaeya doesn't usually drink to the point of vomiting, he has enough self-control and, well, a reputation to uphold as the cavalry captain. Whenever he goes to the tavern, be it on a date, or an outing with friends or coworkers, there is always a part of him that is secretly hopeful he will end up drinking himself to the point of feeling sick and someone who happens to have the same kink will love to take care of him.

Insisting he drinks water, and accidentally giving him too much of it, sugesting he eats even though both of them know he won't be able to keep it down. Urging him to empty his stomach because he will feel so much better afterwards, then helping him get it all up, either with fingers or belly stimulation, thoroughly enjoying the mess he is making.

Kaeya likes, and often needs, to have his hair held for him when he pukes. It is long enough to get in way of almost anything, but he almost never has it properly tied, or a hair tie on him, for that matter.

Despite all that, Kaeya dislikes hangovers as much as the next guy. Headaches only get in the way of him feeling horny while nauseous, and the food doesn't exactly have the same effect when he can't even taste it properly. The worst part of it is that he is yet to find someone to stay with him past a one-night stand. Kaeya has also, more than once thrown up in his sleep, and he hasn't enjoyed that at all.

What Kaeya loves the most is the sounds someone's very full stomach makes when they are right about to puke. That sound of liquid rushing up someone's throat, the watery puke almost tearing through. He also loves the panting and groaning they would make between bouts, the short but almost euphoric moan of relief they let out when the stomach lightens. The sound of heavy breathing echoing inside the toilet bowl. Kaeya isn't sure which is the best: the built-up or the release, but he surely does love seeing someone trying to deny the inevitable.

For him the best texture is watery but lumpy. The mixture of alcohol with barely digested bar food, heavy and greasy, all mixed into small bites littered through a puddle of puke. That might be the most common thing he has had to spew. He tries not to let it show too much, but whenever he finds one of those, he is excited to guess what did this person eat to produce the splatter, thinking about the food coming up and how it might've looked before.

mentions of oral sex ahead! (i rarely write anything smut so please be gentle with me 😭)

Messy sloppy blowjobs! He loves getting to fuck someone's throat until they puke all over him. He might get too carried away, and end up being a little rough (consensually!). Holding his partner's head down as he pumps his load down their throat.

After all that though, he is the most lovely caretaker you will meet.

#these are kinda detailed i'm sorryy 😭😭 #emeto headcanons #emeto kink #tw emeto #tw alcohol #emetophilia #emetophile #gen/shin imp/act #k.aeya g.enshin i.mpact #kae/ya gen/shin imp/act #vomiting #tw vomit #vomit kink #suggestive i guess? #intox kink maybe

[chestcongestion]

Crimson Wave: Ha//zbin Ho/tel

Warnings/ Content Tags: Mess, Menstruation, mentions of stomach pain but absolutely no emeto, Val/ent/ino being kind of a jackass, mild injury (no blood...associated with the injury, that is)

Word Count: 4,400

This was so fun to write, here's a fic of Ve/lve/tte coming down with a very throat and chest-heavy cold and having to go about her day while being completely unaware that she's on day one of her period. A lot of misery, a lot of shenanigans, but it pays off in the end...poor lady, I adore her and I apologize in advance for doing this to her. Hope you guys enjoy!

Beep- Beep- Beep! 

Beep- Beep- Beep! 

Beep- Beep-! 

Velvette dragged herself out of bed and hurriedly shut off the obnoxious alarm on her phone, blearily rubbing her eyes with both fists and yawning as she greeted the day bright and early at around 5:00. 

Swinging her tiny legs out from underneath the covers, Velvette felt a harsh chill when the morning air and crisp air conditioning hit her bare legs and stomach, every last hair on her body standing on end as she fought back a small shiver. 

“Mmm… here we go,” Velvette mumbled to herself- her voice still hoarse from sleep- before tugging off her silk bonnet and freeing her massive cloud of tight tri-color curls. 

Velvette paused after planting both of her bare feet on the floor completely, attempting to recount the events of the night before because it felt like her body was attempting to warn her about something, everything felt… touchy… not quite right. 

Looking down at her feet, Velvette scoffed upon seeing that her stomach was blocking her view, remembering the likely reason behind her waking up bloated. Last night, Valentino had been in one of his moods and invited Velvette out for a drink, leaving Vel to slurp her way through six cocktails while her pornographer “friend” sucked and fucked his sorrows away. 

“Fuckin’ prick,” Velvette complained to herself after giving her body an unimpressed once-over, suddenly noticing the feathery tickle lingering in the back of her throat. 

Velvette let out a small cough, attempting to scratch the itch in her pharynx so she could get on with her day. 

The tickle remained, fluttering around almost teasingly in Velvette’s throat. 

“Heght-hrmmm! Heght-hemm!” Velvette cleared her throat while drowsily reaching for the water bottle on her nightstand, taking a lengthy few swigs to try and drown the irritating sensation. 

Velvette felt a pit opening in her stomach when the sips of water not only did fuck all to suffocate the tickle in her throat, but instead triggered a throbbing tenderness on top of it, a soreness that made Velvette nearly choke on her water as she mourned any idea of having a good day. 

Taking a quick shower and taming her hair into a fluffy ponytail, Velvette tugged on a pair of white capri pants with black hearts on the pockets, groaning at the fact that she had to yank the fabric up over her thighs and feeling self conscious about how the waist of the pants clashed with her stomach. 

“I-ihh’pshhuu! Ih’Psshhew!” Velvette sneezed, wiping her face with a watery sniffle as her ‘nose’ began to run, threatening to make a complete mess of her makeup, “Fuck’s sake- Hrrght-hrmm!- I am not in the mood to deal with a cold.” 

 Velvette pulled on a navy blue long-sleeved T-shirt that she matched with a desaturated pink baby tee over top. The outfit was a bit safe, but the layers guaranteed that no one would notice Velvette’s midriff troubles, and they’d keep any stray drafts of air from exacerbating her cold. 

“Sitting under the AC with my belly out is probably how I got ill in the first place… Ih’pSsshIEW!... Damnit!” Velvette grumbled, letting out a hoarse, scratchy cough into her sleeve. In spite of her best efforts, Velvette’s voice was stuck in a sort of limbo, still sounding rough but not rough enough to make her cough.

Sitting in a draft was not the reason for Velvette’s illness, blame for that would belong to the impromptu makeout session she had with the busty succubus who’d been bartending that night, a makeout session that left Velvette with the succubus’s cough drop in her mouth. The cold air on her exposed chest and stomach still didn’t do her any favors, though. 

After picking her accessories and grabbing her fully-charged phone, Velvette left her large bedroom in the penthouse and wandered into the kitchen to truly start her day, silently wincing at a nagging pain developing in her lower back. 

“Good Morning, Velvette,” Vox greeted, taking a sip of his coffee as he thumbed through the newspaper with his other hand. 

“Hiiii pequeñita, thank you for hanging out with me last niight,” Valentino greeted, very visibly still drunk, swirling a Carajillo in one of his hands. 

“Oh piss off,” Velvette said, cringing at the croakiness of her voice and turning away from her colleagues to press a hand against her tender throat, “Hrrght-HRMM!” 

“Awww, did you lose your voice?” Val said teasingly, dangerously close to falling off of his barstool as he swayed, “I’m ssurprised I didn’t lose mine… last night was wild.” 

“I’m not- heght-hemm- fuck’s sake! I’m not talking to you right now,” Velvette hissed, struggling to open her large metal tumbler cup so she could make herself some tea, “I-Ihh’psShiEW!” 

“Bless you,” Vox said, swiping his finger against the air and smirking as Velvette’s cup was magically filled with steaming hot Yorkshire Gold, plus two good squeezes of lemon juice and a few tablespoons of honey. 

Velvette eagerly took a sip of her drink, melting against the counter as the warm liquid cascaded down her raw throat and briefly dampened the irritating tickle, “Thank you, Darling,” she said, licking her lips. 

“Don’t mention it, anything for you, Doll,” Vox replied, shooting Valentino a brief glare before returning his attention to Velvette, “I take it someone wasn’t on his best behavior last night.” 

“He was fine… same levels of annoying he usually is when he’s drunk- Ih…Ih’ptshh!- ‘scuse me… SnFF!,” Velvette said, “I’m just pissed cause now I have to go to this stupid meeting with a cold- Ihh…I-ihh… Ih’ptssShew!” 

“Bless you,” Vox sighed, handing Velvette a travel package of tissues from his pocket. 

“Thank you,” Velvette replied, her voice growing hoarse again as the incessant tickle started up again, “Heght-hrmm!...Eght-Hrmm!” 

Vox’s gaze lingered on Velvette, sympathy in his eyes as she desperately fought back a cough, “I can go to the overlord meeting today if you aren’t feeling well, Velvette,” he offered. 

“No!” Velvette scoffed, biting her lip as the throbbing pain in her lower back grew more intense, “I’m fine-” she let out a hoarse, violent cough when her voice faded at the end of her sentence, “Damnit! I need Angel in 45 minutes to take pictures for the lingerie line release, keep your filthy mitts off of him until then!” 

“I make no promises, chiquita,” Valentino teased, smirking at Velvette until he was hit in the face by her hairbrush, “Ow!” 

“Fuck you!” Velvette shouted, “You’re gonna make one today, arsehole!” 

Velvette stomped out of the penthouse, still desperately clearing her hoarse throat, and leaving her two colleagues to finish their liquid breakfast in stunned silence. 

“What a bitch,” Valentino scoffed, rubbing the brush-shaped red mark on his face. 

“You’re the bitch, Val,” Vox replied, polishing off his coffee and folding up his newspaper before heading downstairs. 

“You’re not wrong, Ha! I wear it loud and proud,” Valentino said with a tipsy giggle, struggling to get to his feet, only to slip on his own wings and slam back-first against the kitchen floor, “Fuck, I’m still wasted.” 

An hour later, Velvette was leaning against a stool in her studio, struggling to conceal her reaction to the pain in her back that had somehow managed to wrap around to her stomach, when a familiar voice entered through the pink double doors. 

“Hi Vel~ God, it’s nice to  have some work to do where I get to keep my panties on for a change, eh?” Angel said, greeting Velvette with an eager wave, his jovial expression dropping when he saw the poorly-concealed misery on Velvette’s face, “You alright, Toots?” 

“You’re late,” Velvette croaked, taking a swig of her tea. 

Angel opened his mouth to speak- 

“Not a word about my voice. I have a cold. Go get dressed, I have other shit to do today,” Velvette said, her voice a raspy hiss as she gestured towards the rack of lingerie up against the wall, coughing harshly into her fist when Angel was out of her sight, “Fuck me, I dunno if I’m gonna have any voice left for the meeting.”

Angel pulled on a pair of black leather lingerie with hot pink accents, draping himself across the bed that was brought into the studio as a prop. 

“Hrrght-humm…” Velvette cleared her throat, taking a swig of her tea before looking at the scene with intense focus, turning to her assistant, “Turn off two of the lights and add warm color slides to the other ones.” 

“Yes, Miss Velvette,” the assistant muttered, hurrying to go speak with the lighting director. 

Velvette turned to face Angel, “Lean back against the pillow and make an ‘L’ shape with your legs, one knee should be up and the other one should be pointing to the right,” she instructed, watching Angel Dust carefully readjust his position, “Perfect! Gorgeous- someone tighten the back of the corset for him, please, the bigger and fuller his fluff looks in real life, the less editing I have to do.” 

Feeling the tickle building to a crescendo at the top of her throat, as though someone was stroking her larynx with a feather, Velvette turned away to cough, and cough, and cough until she was red in the face and breathless, struggling to stand up straight after panting with her hands on her knees. 

Wordlessly, Velvette’s assistant raced across the room and returned to her boss’s side with a glass of cold water, which Velvette eagerly chugged, handing the empty glass back and standing up straight. 

“Not a fucking word from any of you knobheads, get back to work!” Velvette barked, “I-Ih’PSsCHEW! Ih’pSssHEW!” 

Velvette blew her ‘nose’, gently dabbing at her nostrils with a tissue to wipe up the watery mess that kept threatening to trickle down her face, “This is a fucking disaster,” she muttered to herself, hearing the camera flash a few times and turning to direct Angel, “Alright, now lie on your back, pin one arm behind your head, two across your chest, and one across your pelvis so your fingers are draped over your crotch….yup, just like that, well done.” 

 An hour later, and the photo shoot is finished. Velvette watches Angel sashay out of her studio, and looks at the photos, hand-selecting which ones will be released to print and posted online. 

“Good job everyone, thank you for being halfway competent for once,” Velvette announced, turning to muffle another annoyingly ticklish cough with her sleeve, frowning at her empty tumbler and turning to stare at one of the security cameras in the corner of the room, “Voooxxx- Heght-hrmm!- I know you’re watching, top me off, please?” 

Velvette smirked when her cup felt warm in her hand again, Vox refilling it with a spontaneous swipe of his finger from his seat in his surveillance den, “Thank you, Darling,” she said, blowing a kiss to the camera and checking her phone, sighing and making her way to the overlord meeting in the Weapons District. 

On her way downstairs to her car, Velvette stopped to lean against a wall, gently grabbing her bloated stomach as the dull pain that had been bothering her grew more intense. The throbbing pain in Velvette’s lower back was also still raging on. 

“I swear to fuck if this ends up being the flu, I am going to choke Valentino with his own stupid wings,” Velvette grumbled through clenched teeth, gathering herself, giving her sore stomach a brief pat, and continuing to walk down the stairs. 

One twelve minute car ride, three swigs of tea, and two irritated, itchy-sounding sneezes later, Velvette arrived at the Carmine Weaponry Distribution Center, taking the rear-entrance elevator to the top floor where the meeting room was located. 

Walking through the double doors and taking her seat at the opposite end of the table, Velvette struggled not to shiver under the bitter chill of the air conditioning. 

“What a pleasant surprise, Velvette, a member of your little cohort is on time for once,” Carmilla teased, smiling at Velvette with clasped hands, “I take it that you will be filling in for your colleagues again, today?” 

Velvette, not wanting to waste what was left of her voice, and knowing that talking would only trigger the feathery tickle in her throat, simply took a sip of her tea and responded to Carmilla with a firm nod. 

Carmilla gasped, “Are we keeping out brash childish opinions to ourselves today? My goodness, I couldn’t be more proud of you! Good girl,” she said, mockery flickering in her cold eyes. 

“Up yours you wrinkly old cow,” Velvette hissed, turning away to cough, wincing at the crackle of congestion she could hear in her chest and throat as she coughed. 

“Hmm, I spoke too soon,” Carmilla said with a sigh, “You’re free to catch up at the next meeting if you aren’t feeling well, Velvette.” 

“Piss off, I’m fine,” Velvette replied, her voice noticeably croaky as she took a desperate sip of her tea. 

“Very well then, we can get started,” Carmilla scoffed, tapping the stack of papers she had in front of her against her desk to straighten them out before beginning her usual pre-meeting diatribe. 

The rest of the meeting seemed to coast  by Velvette in a blur as she struggled to keep her sinuses from dripping by holding a tissue up to her nostrils, trying her hardest not to sniffle and make any noise. Her stomach hurt so much, and her back was so sore, and her throat was so itchy, Velvette was completely miserable and struggling to hide it. 

Velvette was so preoccupied by her own misery that she didn’t even glance at her phone, nor did she notice the visible discomfort of the radio demon from two seats away every time she wiped at her nostrils or took a slightly-phlegmy inhale through her clenched teeth. 

Eventually, about fifty minutes into the two-hour meeting, Velvette felt the nagging sensation of the tickle in her throat bubbling up to the surface. Not wanting to draw attention to herself, Velvette was determined to drown the sensation with a swig of her tea, only to remember that she had polished it off thirty minutes ago. 

Velvette swallowed, bottling up a wince at the dull pain in the back of her pharynx, as the low rumble of phlegm in her chest threatened to turn into a coughing fit if she exhaled wrong. 

‘Come on… don’t cough, don’t cough, don’t cough,’ 

“So, we would need to discuss territory agreements with some of the lesser overlords, but I think-” 

Velvette coughed, a sharp, ticklish cough with a crackle of congestion in the background, something that Carmilla initially ignored, continuing her speech without missing a beat. 

“-that we could definitely cede a bit of excess territory to lower ranking overlords for a price, that price would have to be negotiated of course but-” 

Velvette coughed again, this one felt wetter and came from deeper in her chest and throat, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and she struggled to force the urge to cough back down. 

“- I feel as though such an agreement could foster a better understanding between our two factions, seeing as we are a source of resentment for them, and they are a source of annoyance for us-” 

Velvette devolved into a coughing fit, letting out cough after cough even as she grew breathless, desperately patting her chest with a splayed hand to knock the stubborn congestion loose. 

Velvette’s eyes shimmered with shame-induced tears and her cheeks burned bright from the embarrassment of drawing so much attention to herself while she was so vulnerable, she coughed and coughed, hard enough that she could taste the phlegm that was inching up her windpipe. She was so preoccupied with her intense coughing fit, that Velvette didn’t feel a strange rushing sensation between her legs that seemed to occur after every second cough. 

Eventually, after four minutes of non-stop hacking, Velvette spat a mass of phlegm into one of her last tissues, taking a deep inhale and struggling to clear the excess mucus from her throat, which hurt more than it had all day. 

“Hrght-hrghtt-heght-hrmm!,” Velvette struggled, rubbing her throat with a manicured hand, “I’m sorry…” she said, her voice a hoarse, tattered whisper, “Didn’t mean to interrupt, I promise… I-iih’pshuu! Ih’pshhew!” 

“I think maybe you should head home if things are too much for you, Velvette,” Carmilla said with a smirk, “I’ll have someone on my staff send the minutes from this meeting to Vox… even if he already has footage from my VoxTech security cameras.” 

“Fine!” Velvette said, her voice still struggling as she clambered to her feet, placing a hand on her sore stomach and turning to storm out of the meeting room, only to be stopped by Rosie gently holding her wrist, “What is it?” 

“Oh… I don’t wanna embarrass you, sweetie, but I think you’ve had a little accident,” Rosie whispered, “Your pants…” 

Carmilla doubled over with laughter, falling to the floor with a thud as a few of the other sovereign overlords chuckled at the sight playing out before them- a bit of a juvenile reaction, but not unprompted. 

Velvette turned to see what everyone found so funny, only to notice a massive bright red stain on the seat of her pants, with trails of red running down her white pant legs, and even bits of dried blood around her ankles. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake, I’ve started my period,” Velvette hissed, clenching her fists and feeling her eyes start to water, the shame and embarrassment from bleeding through her white pants after having a coughing fit loud enough to distract everyone during the meeting, it was starting to be too much, and Velvette was sick of it, “Thank you for not laughing at m-me.” 

“Oh don’t mention it, Honey, it happens to the best of us,” Rosie said, “They’ll forget this ever even happened, I promise, run on home… I hope you feel better.” 

“Th-SnFF!- thank you,” Velvette whispered, her voice threatening to devolve into a hiccuping sob as she turned on her heels and ran out of the meeting room, one of her boots’ heels snapping off right as she approached the elevators, causing her to roll her ankle and collapse to the floor with a loud Crack! 

“Oww! Fuck!” Velvette sobbed, her larynx straining as she struggled and failed to blink back her tears, ruining her eyeliner and mascara as they cascaded down her face in dark trails, gathering beneath her chin and rolling down her neck. Slowly returning to her feet, Velvette let out a hoarse cough and limped into the elevator, her sobs audible even behind the thick metal doors. 

Back at the Vees’ penthouse on top of the VoxTech Enterprises skyscraper, Valentino- finally sober after a long nap- was combing out the fur on his neck while Vox looked through the month’s sales statistics on his tablet, when suddenly the double doors of the apartment’s entrance swung open. 

“Oh, you’re back, did the meeting end early?” Vox asked, briefly glancing at the clock on his table to check the time. 

“No- SnFF!- Carmilla sent me home, because I kept-” Velvette paused, her breath catching on a particularly sharp exhale and devolving into a heavy, wet, productive cough, “-that… I kept doing that.” 

Vox set down his tablet and gestured for Velvette to come closer, placing a firm hand on Velvette’s back and feeling the rumble of congestion under his fingertips, “This cold sounds like it’s settling in your chest,” he sighed, giving Velvette’s back a firm pat, “I’ll get you some decongestant and cough syrup, don’t worry.” 

Velvette pushed away from Vox after she felt a gushing sensation between her legs, her stomach churning as she felt disgusting and dirty, desperate to clean up before the dripping managed to reach below her ankles, “Fuck off, I don’t need your help,” she sniffled, her voice still a raspy mess as she tried to hide her tears. 

Vox looked at Velvette’s shaky form and drew his focus on the fashion designer’s heavily bruised and wobbly left ankle, “Oh my god, Velvette, did you hurt yourself? What happened to your leg?” he asked, reaching down to scoop Velvette into his arms, only for her to back away, kicking him with her injured leg to keep him at a distance. 

“No! Don’t fucking touch me!” Velvette snapped, wincing intensely when she tried to put weight on her left leg again, “Oww! Bollocks!” 

Unable to cope with the pain in her leg, throat, stomach, and back all hitting her at once, Velvette collapsed onto the floor, desperately rubbing her injured ankle and breathing shakily through clenched teeth, nothing could make this moment any worse. 

“Shit, what’s gotten into you, Vel? You on your period or something?” Valentino joked, snickering as he shot Velvette a playful glance in between strokes, still combing out his fluffy white mane. 

Velvette ripped off her other boot, throwing it at Valentino with murderous rage, “Yes!” she shouted, her voice cracking and threatening to fade, “Heght-eght-hemm!” 

Vox noticed the mess of blood on Velvette’s pants, and bit his tongue, his heart throbbing as he thought about what to do next. 

“I’m bloated, mby stomach hurts, mby back hurts-” Velvette paused, swallowing her saliva and wincing at the throbbing pain in her throat, “- mby throat is so sore I can barely swallow because of this stupid cold and this stupid cough, and this stupid day!” 

Vox bit down tighter on his tongue as Velvette silently burst into tears, her mascara running hopelessly down her face and staining her possibly fever-flushed cheeks as she struggled to contain herself. 

“I’mb so tired… and I bled through mby trousers- mby white fucking trousers- at the stupid meeting and everyone saw and they all laughed at me,” Velvette whispered, unable to raise her voice any more as she swiped hopelessly at her mascara-stained tears, “I feel disgusting and achy and I’m fucking starving but my throat is too sore to eat anything, and you stupid fuckers think it’s hilarious! I hate you!” 

Vox quietly sat down next to Velvette on the floor, leaning over to give his colleague and dearest friend a tight hug, gently rubbing her upper back, “It’s okay… I’m so sorry, Velvette,” he whispered, swiping horizontally against the air with his index finger and smiling as he stood up- gently pulling Velvette back onto her feet with him. 

“I just want to go to bed,” Velvette whispered, rubbing her throat with one hand and massaging her throbbing stomach with the other. 

“Not yet,” Vox said, “If you head into your bathroom there’s a nice hot bubble bath waiting for you, I’ll have your pants laundered immediately to get the stains out, and I think the steam from the bath will loosen up some of that congestion in your chest.” 

Velvette let loose a crackling wet cough into her sleeve, wiping away her tears, “Th-thank you,” she whispered, “Ih…ih’psshew…’Pshhew!... I’m losing my voice…” 

“I know, I know, I’ll make sure there’s a big pot of hot tea with honey and lemon for you when you get out of the bath, aaand some death by chocolate brownies,” Vox said with sincere, kind eyes.

“Mkay… I’b gonna go wash off now… Ih’psshew!” Velvette said in her croaky whisper of a voice, biting her lip to work through the pain and half-hopping, half-limping her way to her bathroom. 

Once Velvette had left the room, Vox rolled up his newspaper from earlier and smacked Valentino in the back of the head. 

“Ow! What the hell did I do?!” Valentino whined. 

“ ‘Euhh, what are you on your period or something?!’ Really?! Are you fifteen years old?!” Vox snapped, smacking Valentino a second time, “You’re the reason she’s sick to begin with, don’t be a sexist pig! I can’t believe I’m the one saying this to you of all people!” 

“Ow! Okay, okay, I’m sorry!” Valentino whined, cowering behind his arms to avoid being hit a third time. 

“You’d better be!” Vox said, dropping his newspaper and rolling his eyes, “The trouble you manage to get into, I swear…” 

An hour and a half later, Velvette was relaxed on the penthouse sofa in front of the TV, curled up in a pair of fleece pajama pants with hearts on them and a navy blue sweatshirt.

“Feeling better?” Vox asked, leaning over the back of the sofa and moving a few strands of Velvette’s freshly-washed hair out of her face. 

“Mmhm,” Velvette mumbled, her voice still practically gone, “Thank you again, this is nice… I-ihh…Ih’pshhew!” 

“Bless you,” Vox said, “You worked so hard today, you deserve some rest.” 

“I couldn’t imagine a better way to relax… doped up on Sloth Ring painkillers, warm blanket, tea, and an HD DVD box set of the seasons of Sherlock that aired after I died,” Velvette whispered, taking a slow sip of her tea before setting it back down on the coffee table, “This is amazing.” 

“Anything for you, Velvette, anything for you,” Vox replied, “I’ve told your employees that they can use this hiatus to catch up on any work they’ve been slacking on- on reduced pay, of course- that way you don’t have to worry about keeping up with your schedule until you get your voice back.” 

“Yaaay,” Velvette cheered, her voice hushed as she shifted her position slightly, readjusting her swollen ankle so that it sat better on the pillow and ottoman that were propping it up, “Vox… when you’re finished supervising the TV station, will you come back up to watch with me?” 

“Of course, I’ll bring back dinner, too, just text me what you want, okay?” Vox asked, gently pressing his screen against Velvette’s left cheek- similar to the way cats push their heads against the legs or torsos of humans they’re fond of. 

“Okay,” Velvette replied, stretching out with a raspy yawn before getting even more comfortable under her blanket, struggling to keep her eyes open, “I think I’m gonna take a nap… see you later tonight, Vox.” 

“See you then, Velvette,” Vox replied, leaving the room and listening to the echoey rumble of Velvette’s congested snoring from behind the closed doors, breathing a sigh of relief, “God, I’ve never been happier to have a penis… that looks like torture.” 

A bit crass… but he’s certainly not wrong. 

#ha/zb/in ho/tel #illness kink #whump #gingey.rtf

[pigeonwhumps]

Friend, lost

Bug and Company masterlist

Taglist: @littlespacecastle @flowersarefreetherapy @whumplr-reader @whumpinggrounds @den-of-whump @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance @rainydaywhump @febuwhump

Febuwhump alt 7: last words

Sarita has a nightmare.

713 words

CWs: BBU, pet whump, death, grief, manslaughter, nightmare, emeto, implied food deprivation

"No. Please no. Don't die, please don't die."

Her friend coughs, wracking her body, hacking up blood.

"We knew it'd happen," she whispers. "Once they start to use you as bait and employee training you don't last long."

"But you– you can't leave me, please. I can't lose you, Six."

"Sarita."

"What?"

She coughs violently. "It's my name. Sarita. It's all I remember. Can we talk about something better?"

"Okay. Okay. What would you like to..."

"Tell me your ideal holiday?"

They've done this oh so many times. All either of them have are dreams, things they've heard handlers mention. But anything is better than here.

"A beach. A very sunny beach, and it's warm, and we can hear seagulls. We're eating ice creams, but I don't know what flavour because I don't know what flavours exist. We have large floppy hats on. You have ice cream on your nose, and we're laughing and happy and... and..."

She trails off. Her friend's body is still, her eyes blank and staring.

She bends over and kisses Sarita's bloody forehead. "No. I can't go on those holidays without you. Please come back. Please, come on, I can't do this without you."

There's no answer. Of course there isn't. She tightens her grip on Sarita's body, buries her face in her still-warm chest, and screams.

It takes five handlers to prise her away.

_

Sarita wakes up, heart pounding, tears streaming down her cheeks. It takes her a minute to realise she's not there, she's at Alix's, that was a long time ago. It feels like she was just there.

She can't hear anyone else so she doesn't think she actually screamed. But she can't stay here. The bed's sweaty and she can feel the cold light of their room, her friend's body, the blood on her hands.

She throws the covers off and lurches out of bed, just making it to the toilet before throwing up.

Not again. Not again. She can't keep doing this.

She stumbles into the front room, vision blurred with tears. There's a nice, soft couch there and she can just see through the light of the sodium-yellow streetlamp and she curls up in the corner, grabbing a pen and paper on the way.

She thinks vaguely that it's a nice coloured biro.

Then she starts to draw. Not the blood-covered face, not the one that was still and blank and staring. It's the good one. The one from when they were first put in a room together, and her friend offered half her meagre portion of food and a small smile that had tugged at the corner of her mouth as the only attempt at comforting the new trainee available to her.

One sharing of food too many was the final infraction that made her disposable. Sarita still doesn't understand why that was an infraction, or why rooms were shared in that training facility when nowhere else seems to do it.

Sarita uses half the pad before she's happy with the sketch. And then she moves onto one of her friend's dreams, the two of them in the forest together, eating a picnic and enjoying a waterfall.

It's not fair. It's not right. She shouldn't be dead, she should be alive and here and smiling shyly and able to go on all their dreamed-up holidays.

Sarita notices movement out of the corner of her eye as Oscar places a mug of chamomile tea down in front of her and sits far enough way that it doesn't feel like an intrusion, sipping at faer coffee. She should've noticed fae earlier.

"I'll change your bed," fae murmurs after a while. How many nightmares has fae heard that fae knows to do that? How many of hers?

How many of faer own?

She nods tearfully, not trusting herself to speak. Oscar is... fae's not in charge as much as Alix and Jane, she doesn't think. But she likes fae all the more for it.

She doesn't move for hours, until the sun starts filtering through the gap in the blinds and she realises she needs to move before anyone else appears. So she heads back to her bedroom, curls up under the pile of blankets with an electric candle lantern, and carries on drawing.

#whump #whump writing #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpalt7 #bbu #pet whump #box babe #whumpee and caretaker #multiple whumpees #tw death #lady whump

[tafeekafee]

⌛⛰️ Hold me tight

Title from Paradigm (ATEEZ)

Summary: San sits out during filming for a stomach ache … turns out it’s not just a stomach ache…

CW: emeto, pain, diarrhea (mentioned), ambulance, hospitals, hospital equipment 

Sickie: San Caretaker: Seonghwa + Yunho + Hongjoong

San stood in front of the mirror, mustering his outfit for the new WANTEEZ episode. He couldn’t deny that the navy shirt and the black pants looked nice together like the stylist noona had pointed out. She seemed very proud of her work and San was sure that ATINY would like the look.

That didn’t mean that he didn’t feel like tearing off both clothing items. They were suffocating. He was already sweating under all of it and for once he nearly wished for one of his revealing stage outfits. At least they were cool. Additionally, the waistband of the pants was pressing into his bloated stomach and it was uncomfortable.

San had woken up feeling less than amazing that morning and it had just gotten worse. The drive to the filming location had taken all his will to live, sandwiched between Wooyoung and Yeosang who had been squabbling all the way. He supposed he should have been glad he wasn’t in the other car, apparently Yunho had gotten really motion sick and San was sure - that while normally not easily sympathy sick - he would have followed suit in puking up his meager breakfast. 

Needless to say, he was not feeling up to filming.

But he was an idol and life needed to go on. Even if he was feeling awful and the pain in his stomach was not getting better. 

“You okay?”, Seonghwa asked, coming up to him and whispering in his ear.

San nodded, looking up at his hyung. “I’ll be fine.”

“So you’re not fine right now?”, Seonghwa said, raising his eyebrow in a way that meant that the elder would have an eye on him for the rest of the day. Damn perceptive hyung. San just hadn’t wanted to lie but well, that’s what he got for being honest.

“Just a small stomach ache, hyung”, San answered reluctantly, “I ate some snacks last night, I think that was a bad move.”

Seonghwa stared at him like he knew that San had just lied to his face, twice. The stomach ache was not just small. And he hadn’t eaten snacks last night, in fact he had gone to bed early and slept through his alarm until Mingi had come banging against his door and complaining that he should turn off the obnoxious sound. Seonghwa had been at Hongjoong’s dorm till late, apparently, so he hadn’t had a chance to notice his dongsaeng going to bed suspiciously early. 

Then their eldest nodded. “Tell me if you need something.”

“I won’t”, San said, crossing his fingers behind his back for good measure, and as Seonghwa’s eyes widened, he quickly added: “Need anything, I mean.”  

It looked like Seonghwa wanted to say something more but they were called to the set.

⌛

Their MC for the day was Hongjoong - annoyingly observant Hongjoong who now would be preoccupied with hosting today and would not be able to notice if something was up with San. Small mercies.

“Today, we are going to have secret pirate missions”, Hongjoong announced, causing some of them to cheer and the others to groan, “everybody will draw a lot and read their mission. If the mission is not complete by the end of the hour, the ones who didn’t make it have to do penalties, decided by the ones who managed to do their mission. Understood?”

They chorused their agreement and Hongjoong was given a jar by the filming crew, walking around to let every member draw a gold piece of paper.

Seeing the reaction on every members face when they read their missions was likely hilarious and San did try to laugh along with them but he quickly gave up doing more than smiling. Every laugh sent a stab through his abdomen, the pain getting worse. Seonghwa looked gleefully, while Yeosang and Mingi seemed confused. Yunho seemed to already be scheming, as did Wooyoung. Both Hongjoong and Jongho groaned when reading their missions, causing laughter of schadenfreude to ring through the room. San furrowed his eyebrows as he read his mission: Walk like Jack Sparrow at all times without anybody pointing it out.  He was probably in luck - that didn’t sound half bad. Actually, maybe he would get away with not walking at all.

Then Hongjoong took back the mic and read out his script: “There will be a special mission: Find the captain patch. If you do, the other missions are over. Whoever finds it … gets to be captain for today?” He looked up to stare at the director incredulously. “This is mutiny!”

Wooyoung instantly started to cackle loudly, joined by Yunho and Seonghwa. San could have sworn he heard Mingi whisper: “Finally.”

“The clock starts now!”, the director called, probably scared of Hongjoong, and instantly the group scattered. 

San waited until everybody was gone and awkwardly walked into the pirate ship themed house. The way that Jack Sparrow walked, while distinctive, was pulling at his stomach and causing unnecessarily pain. He distracted himself by scanning the first room. Mingi was searching through a cabinet but otherwise it was empty. San walked further inside and turned to the right where he found a sofa, in a small half-hidden alcove. Perfect.

As quickly as he could handle he walked over and sat down carefully, hoping that sitting down would not hurt. It didn’t - much. He grabbed the first pillow he could find and pressed it to his stomach. It seemed to help the pain a bit. 

It was really perfect here, if he was honest. He didn’t need to walk. The pillow helped the pain. He might not find the captain patch that way but he didn’t want to be captain anyway. Not having to do the penalty the other members thought of was his main focus.

He had to admit that the set was really impressive - it looked like an old pirate ship all with nooks and alcoves, small decorative details that made it all the more realistic. For the fun part there were crocheted kraken plushies scattered through the room and San didn’t doubt that the other rooms would have their own secret. San wished he felt well enough to explore them.

He stayed sitting there until the cameraman, who he had forgotten had followed him, hesitantly spoke up. He was a new guy, so San wasn’t really familiar with him. “San-ssi? Shouldn’t you like walk around and look for the patch? It’s going to be boring if you just sit here.”

San shook his head. “That isn’t my mission”, he said and the cameraman nodded in agreement.

⌛

Despite his most fervent wishes that staying still might help, it did not. San wasn’t sure if the pain was getting worse or if now that he had nothing else to concentrate on made it even less bearable. Maybe it was a mix of both. Pressing the pillow against his abdomen helped for a bit but every time his grip loosened the pain got worse. 

He was even contemplating asking the director to sit out but he didn’t want to be a problem. Cutting a member out was always a hassle and he didn’t want to worry ATINY. 

Then Seonghwa came in. “Here you are, San-ah”, he said, then mustered him thoroughly. He knelt down beside San and took his hand in his. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

San nodded but apparently it wasn’t convincing at all.

“What’s the matter?”, Seonghwa asked, gesturing at the cameramen to stop filming. “Is your stomach still hurting?”

“...yeah”, San admitted, “it’s really not liking me, hyung.”

“Oh, poor you”, Seonghwa mumbled, tethering on the edge of babying him. San found he barely minded. “Do you want to sit out on filming? I’m sure we can work out something.”

“I don’t want to disappoint ATINY. This seems like it’s going to be a fun episode”, San reluctantly mumbled.

“ATINY cares more about your health. We can have a notice saying you weren’t feeling well today, or as long as you need. All of us have sat out during filming before. You know that the fans will be sad but worried, never disappointed”, Seonghwa said gently.

“I … okay”, San mumbled, “I really just want to sit and not be filmed.”

“Alright, come on.”

Carefully Seonghwa helped him to his feet. Never once did San let go of the pillow. It really was a comfort item at the moment, if he couldn’t have Shiber this needed to be enough. Seonghwa wrapped an arm around his shoulders and led San through the set. In the room San had passed through earlier, Wooyoung and Yunho were chasing and laughing at Jongho who was wearing a pirate hat and holding onto it for dear life. Hongjoong was … was he sporting a hand drawn eyepatch?

“What’s going on?”, the captain asked as they emerged, rushing over to meet them half-way.

“San-ah isn’t feeling so good, he’s going to sit out the rest of the filming”, Seonghwa explained. Hongjoong looked heartbroken - a stark contrast to his comically painted face - likely very worried, but nodded. He brushed back a strand of San’s hair and whispered: “Feel better, baby.”

“Thanks, hyung”, San mumbled and let Seonghwa pull him with him until they arrived in the crew room. Immediately they were swarmed by managers fussing over San. While it was a bit overwhelming it was also comforting. 

Seonghwa explained the situation again and the director quickly agreed to let San stay in there with a manager to watch over him. Seonghwa, however, was required to go back to filming. Five minutes later San was settled laying down on a couch, the pillow still in his grip and pain meds taken. Over a screen he was even able to watch the different cameras and a manager had even procured some crackers and plain food for him, even a cup of tea.

⌛

San was already half-asleep when the mission announcement came with a gleeful Wooyoung having won the captain mission. As Hongjoong reluctantly had to call him captain, he looked like he was biting on a lemon and regretting all his life choices. It was very funny and ATINY would love it, San was sure of it.

Then the secret missions were revealed, not one mention of San. His sudden missing would probably be edited in as a text notice. Despite feeling awful, San was interested in the reveals and with a groan he sat up to watch the screen.

The first one to hold out his piece of paper into the camera was Hongjoong. “I had to draw an eyepatch on a member”, the captain explained, “it never specified it couldn’t be me and I really don’t want to do the penalty. So my dignity, along with my title, is gone.” Yeosang and Jongho cheered, happy to see Hongjoong so defeated but Yunho protested that it was cheating. In the end, Wooyoung used his captain privileges to decide that Hongjoong had passed the mission, explaining he did not want to be in Hongjoong’s bad cards when he got his title back the next day. Well, even more than he already was.

Then it was Wooyoung’s turn, who had managed to put a gold coin sticker on every members’ phone, causing them to pull out their phones in astonishment. All except for Yunho who frantically started patting his pockets until Seonghwa pulled it out of his own pocket, causing yelling. Especially once Wooyoung realized that Seonghwa had peeled off the sticker, thinking it was Yunho’s mission. 

The eldest had successfully stolen something from every member. He held up Hongjoong’s hair clip, Yeosang’s hair tie, one of Mingi’s socks (which Mingu somehow hadn’t even noticed get stolen?), Wooyoung’s ring and Jongho’s Jjongbear keychain, causing the maknae to pout and try to steal his son back. Then, lastly, he pulled out one of San’s bracelets. Bastard. He hadn’t even noticed that that had been Seonghwa’s first move. Wooyoung quickly got used to his power surge and decided his own (since the sticker had been one the phone at some point) and Seonghwa’s mission a success.

Yunho, a bit annoyed but still happy enough, announced he had managed to turn around every pistol in every room but then he was shown a video of Jongho, who must have figured out his mission, turning them back. Wooyoung decided it was a failed mission, causing Yunho to shout in defeat and trying to argue that then Wooyoung’s mission was a failure too. But he was not captain.

Yeosang had not managed to initiate a sword fight between two members, so he, like Yunho would receive the penalty. Mingi also hadn’t found the secret treasure chest he was supposed to find and was the third to fail. 

Lastly, Jongho had indeed managed to wear the pirate hat for the right amount of time, he had already been at minute eight of ten of wearing the hat when he was discovered and had successfully defended his accessory for the next two minutes.

⌛

The rest of the filming San dozed on the couch, only waking up when he turned in his sleep which caused his stomach to twinge painfully. The pain meds hadn’t seemed to help. Once or twice, he thought Hongjoong and Seonghwa peaked in on him, but he wasn’t sure. At some point a manager woke him up to make him eat a bowl of soup but he was barely awake for that and quickly dozed off again.

San did wake up, however, when his shoulder was shaken gently. He couldn’t suppress the whine in his throat when his stomach was jostled. A hand came to rest against his forehead.

“He’s running a fever”, a voice whispered. 

“What are we gonna do?”, another voice asked.

“Management decided we don’t need to film tonight”, the first voice said, “let’s just get him to bed.”

At the promise of sleep on an actual bed, San opened his eyes.

“Hey, baby”, Hongjoong greeted, smiling at him gently. Even despite his grogginess and the disorientation San was able to spot the poorly hidden concern. “How are you feeling?”

“My stomach still hurts”, San admitted. There was no use in lying. “I don’t feel good, hyungs.” Behind Hongjoong Seonghwa waved at him, looking as worried as the captain, if not more.

“Hm, you’re also running a fever, San-ah”, Hongjoong said, “manager-hyung said he’ll take you to hospital tomorrow if you don’t feel better or if your fever gets higher than 38.6°C at some point.”

“Okay”, San mumbled, “can I sleep more now?”

“We need to go back to the house they rented for us. It’s a ten minute drive. Do you think you can handle it?”, Hongjoong asked.

“Anything to sleep”, San said, pushing himself upright. Immediately his stomach protested and he doubled over, pressing his arms against his abdomen. Oh, fuck, it hurt.

“You’ve been sleeping all day, San-ah, and you’re in pain”, Seonghwa said, then turned to Hongjoong. “Shouldn’t we bring him to the hospital now? That can’t be normal.”

San nearly hoped Hongjoong said ‘yes’.

“No, let’s … let’s wait. Going to the hospital is a big hustle and I don’t want ATINY to see him like this. Don’t worry, if he really needs to go, I’ll make it happen.”

⌛

The drive to the house was horrible. San sat flanked by his oldest hyungs, both of them holding onto him. He had his face buried in Seonghwa’s shoulder, despite the pain it brought, it brought more comfort. The street to the house was not in a good condition and the constant up and down left San on the verge of tears. 

By the time they arrived San looked at Seonghwa with pleading eyes and soon he was lifted into Yunho’s strong arms, his hyung holding onto him tightly. 

Settled down on the couch, Yunho didn’t leave his side, instead choosing to run his fingers through San’s hair. He had been tasked with sticking a thermometer into San’s mouth the moment they had arrived and now it beeped. 

“38.8°C, jeez, you’re not kidding around”, Yunho commented, putting it aside. “Hyungs said to keep you awake for now. You won’t be able to sleep through the night if you sleep all day.”

San doubted that. He was so tired. Next to the stomach ache and the fever that Seonghwa had easily diagnosed by laying his hand against San’s forehead in the car, he had acquired an unsettling feeling in his stomach that with his current state of being was a sure sign that something would want out of his body in either or both directions at some point. He already dreaded that, moving seemed too much of an effort. 

“But I’m so tired”, San whined. He was aware of how pitiful he sounded but he couldn’t care less. He just wanted to feel better now. 

“I know, kiddo”, Yunho mumbled, sounding a bit overwhelmed. Tears gathered in San’s eyes and before he could stop them they flowed down his hot cheeks. “Oh, San-ah, don’t cry, please.” 

San couldn’t help it though and more and more tears gathered in his eyes and then he was full-on crying. Yunho did his best to comfort him, cradling him as much as he could without hurting San, and wiping away the frustrated tears with the sleeves of his shirt. His whole body was shaking from the force of the sobs and it was starting to upset his stomach even worse. 

Oh no. San felt himself flush, embarrassment coloring his cheeks. Sure, they all had been sick in front of each other before but some things weren’t meant to be shared. Besides, he could already imagine how badly it would hurt. 

“Yunho, where are the others?”, he asked frantically.

Yunho frowned but quickly counted on his fingers: “Let’s see, Wooyoung-ah was tasked by Seonghwa to cook, I think he, Seonghwa and Yeosang are in the kitchen. Hongjoong and Jongho are preparing the rooms and Mingi is taking a shower, as far as I know.”

Shit.

“Do we have a second bathroom?”, San questioned, already pushing himself up. He was running out of time, his stomach cramping badly.

“Uh, I don’t know? I can get you a bucket?”, Yunho said, eyes wide.

“No, I need a bathroom”, San insisted, flushing and feeling more tears prickle at his eyes again.

“Oh. Oh, okay, come on”, Yunho said and quickly lifted San to his feet, guiding him into a hallway San hadn’t seen yet.

“Hyung?”, Yunho called and immediately Hongjoong stuck his head out of one of the rooms.

“Yunho-yah?”, he asked, then mustered San who had pressed himself into Yunho’s side. “San-ah, what’s…?”

“Is there a second bathroom?”, Yunho interrupted him, not caring about honorifics at all.

“Oh, no, I don’t think so?”, Hongjoong said, paling himself. He clearly understood what nobody said out loud. 

“Damn, okay, hold on, San-ah”, Yunho said and handed San over to their captain, Hongjoong holding onto San tightly. The younger could only curl up into himself, a hand on his stomach and begging that he could make it. Hongjoong whispered gentle reassurances at him but San was barely able to focus on anything but his stomach throwing a fit.

“Mingi, get the fuck out of the bathroom now”, Yunho called and pounded on the door, “and I mean now, it’s San-ah.”

To their utmost relief Mingi seemed to have just finished his shower as the door unlocked not ten seconds later and he hurried out, dripping water everywhere and hastily wrapping a towel around his waist. 

San didn’t have it in him to wait any longer and pushed past the stunned members, fumbling to lock the door before his stomach revolted.

⌛

Twenty minutes later he dragged himself out of the bathroom, Seonghwa waiting for him, sitting on the floor by the entrance to the living room. San leant against the hallway wall, his hands pressed against his cramping stomach and just blinked at his hyung. He was so drained and his whole body was in shut-down mode. He was covered in sweat, the humid heat of an after-shower bathroom not helping his situation at all, and ready to collapse to the floor and just pass out. He was so exhausted he couldn’t even really feel embarrassed anymore though Seonghwa’s presence itself was a confirmation that all members knew how he had suffered. 

“Hey, baby”, Seonghwa said and jumped to his feet, not hesitating to wrap San in his arms despite how disgusting he himself felt. 

“Hyung”, he whined, pressing his face into Seonghwa’s chest, taking comfort in the way Seonghwa rubbed his hand up and down his spine.

“You’re so sick”, the eldest mumbled, worry oozing from his words. “The managers will take you to the hospital if you want to go, Hongjoong called them. Your fever is higher than we expected and you’re so unwell.”

If he had the capacity, San would have broken down at that statement. The members knowing was one thing but management? He liked the managers a lot but it was still a sensitive issue. Now, all he could do was shake his head against Seonghwa’s shoulder.

“I just want to sleep, hyung. Can I go tomorrow if I don’t feel better?”, he asked, biting his lip. He didn’t think he could handle a hospital trip at all. All the waiting, sitting around on uncomfortable chairs, prodded by nurses and doctors alike and given medication via an IV he didn’t want? All of that without one of his hyungs by his side? No, he couldn’t do it.

“Yeah, we can do that”, Seonghwa said, sounding a bit unhappy with San’s decision, “or if you feel like you need to go tonight, we’ll make it happen.”

“Thanks, hyung.”

Seonghwa pulled away from him and pressed a gentle kiss against San’s head. “You don’t have to thank me, baby. Come on, let’s go sit down.”

⌛

Once he was placed on the couch again, sandwiched between Seonghwa and Yunho, Hongjoong appeared from the kitchen where Yeosang, Wooyoung, Mingi and Jongho apparently were eating. He was carrying a bowl of soup and San felt himself pale. While his lower stomach had calmed down, nausea had taken its place and he didn’t feel up to eating. At all.

“I’m not hungry”, San mumbled, eyes slipping shut. He was so tired, eating and fighting nausea were too much of an effort. Yunho, having seen how tightly San had hugged the pillow earlier, handed it back to him and San curled over it, the pressure relieving some of the pain. While it was just a random pillow stolen from a random set it was the cuddle buddy he had, Shiber still tucked in San’s bed back at the dorm.

“Please, San-ah, just a few bites”, Hongjoong said, close to begging. His eyes were shining from worry and he was speaking in a tone of voice more appropriate for shy baby animals.

“Hyungie”, San pleaded, voice breaking. He didn’t want to eat.

“San-ah, baby, you need nutrients. You barely ate anything today and you're losing too many fluids with the sweating and … your stomach issues”, Seonghwa insisted, brushing back a strand of San’s hair. “Please.”

“Okay”, San agreed. He wanted to fight his hyungs even less than he wanted to eat.

The relieved atmosphere didn’t hold on long. The moment Seonghwa lifted a spoon to San’s lips and the soup flowed into his mouth, San’s body took over control. The salty taste of the light broth was enough to trigger his gag reflex and he heaved. Nothing came up, his stomach not  triggered enough but the soup in his mouth dribbled down his chin partly onto Seonghwa’s hand.

The oldest quickly pulled away, mindlessly wiping his dirtied hand on his trousers. It was, after all, just the soup San hadn’t even managed to swallow down and Seonghwa had dealt with worse and more disgusting situations before. Embarrassed tears shot into San’s eyes but Seonghwa shushed him.

“Okay, okay, you don’t need to eat”, Hongjoong assured quickly, likely seeing how San’s eyes had turned teary again. He reached across the small TV table and wiped San’s chin with a tissue he had procured from somewhere.

“Can I go to sleep now?”, San begged, not caring about the disgusting taste in his mouth or the churning in his stomach. 

“Do you want to take a shower or anything?”, Yunho asked, tilting his head so he could look San in the eyes. 

He shook his head. “Just sleep, please.”

“Alright”, Hongjoong agreed with a sigh, “who do you want to come with you, Seonghwa or Yunho? I can come too, but I need to keep management up to date first.” The captain sounded heartfelt sorry, probably wanting nothing more than to comfort his dongsaeng himself. But he couldn’t.

That still left San with the choice between the other two. Seonghwa seemed the obvious choice, the eomma-hyung, the one San always wanted close when ill and who knew what to do in every situation. But he also missed sharing a room with Yunho since their move into different dorms and Yunho was the perfect person for hugs with his huge frame and comforting hugs.  

He looked between the two of them indecisively, until Hongjoong giggled a bit. “You three are all tall but I think the bed might actually fit all three of you, if you want.”

“Can we do that?”, San asked, eyes wide and mentally pleading with them to say yes.

“Yey, sleep over”, Yunho said, enthusiasm in his voice, and Seonghwa nodded. “Do you want me to carry you?”

San hesitated for a moment but then nodded shyly. Walking all the way across the hall to the bedrooms seemed so far, so he wrapped his arms around Yunho’s neck and rested his head against his shoulder.

⌛

Seonghwa insisted on making San change into sleep clothes and gargle some mouthwash since he didn’t feel up to brushing his teeth. San let him do what he pleased, staying limp like a ragdoll against Yunho’s side. Finally he was allowed to lay down. The bed felt like heaven. Sure, he probably could have slept on hard concrete and found it amazing but San was just glad to not have to hold himself upright.

“Do you want to sleep in the middle?”, Yunho asked carefully, “or would you prefer a side?”

San gave it a bit of thought. He did want the comfort of his hyungs, both of them. But the way his stomach felt and had already acted up he thought the side of the bed was probably safer. So he just rolled to the side and reached out to Yunho. “Cuddle me?”, he asked his tallest member, craving his embrace.

“Of course”, Yunho agreed and laid down next to San, gathering him in his arms. “Sleep well, San-ah. Wake us up if you need us.”

⌛

Sleep was not nearly as healing as they had hoped. Quite on the contrary. He couldn’t have been asleep for too long, he thought, but Yunho and Seonghwa were both asleep next to him. San had desperately wished to sleep through the night and wake up feeling much better but apparently it wasn’t to be so.

He didn’t have to wait long to figure out what had caused him to wake up. A sharp pain, worse than anything he had ever felt before, shot through his stomach and he instinctively curled into himself. 

The next second his mouth started to salivate and his throat worked on its own. Before San knew what was really happening he scrambled to his feet, nearly crashing to the floor in his hurry and due to the weakness of his knees. Yet he knew he was about to throw up and he would not do that in bed. But he also didn’t want to be alone. He reached over and shook Yunho roughly, the older member nearly immediately sitting up. 

“San-ah?”

“Help me”, San whimpered and pressed a hand to his lips. Vomit was already starting to fill his mouth and he knew he needed to get to the toilet right now. He stumbled from the room, not waiting for Yunho and crashed into the bathroom door before managing to open it. He didn’t even make it to the toilet, instead throwing himself at the sink.

Warm vomit sprayed from his mouth, coating the white porcelain. San didn’t even really remember eating much today but apparently it was enough to cause this. He gagged helplessly again and again, unable to even close his mouth. His throat kept working overtime and soon he felt the acrid sting of bile in his nose. A huge hand landed on his shoulder just as his knees buckled and somebody caught him. 

Words were thrown above his head, two people talking to each other but he couldn’t distinguish the voices. 

Another shooting pain went through his abdomen and then … it stopped. San would have nearly cried with relief if it didn’t scare him so much. Something felt wrong. Pain like that didn’t just stop.

“Hyungie?”, he asked, letting himself go slack, trusting that he would be caught. “Can you take me to the hospital?”

⌛

San drifted between consciousness and sleep. 

He didn’t know where he was.

But it didn’t hurt.

Sometimes a familiar voice was there, or two.

He, at times, could even make out some words but it didn’t make sense.

Somebody was holding his hand.

It was nice.

⌛

Hongjoong never ever wanted to be awoken like that again, Seonghwa running into the room he shared with Jongho and Mingi, flipping on the lights and crying.

All drowsiness left as his mind made sense of the words “San-ah”, “unconscious”, “hospital”.

He didn’t even care to call the managers, he dialed the emergency number and pressed the phone into a shocked Jongho’s hand. While he was the youngest, Jongho would be best at staying calm and level headed, though he wasn’t very familiar with caring for sick members.

As he burst into the bathroom behind Seonghwa, Hongjoong found a teary Yunho holding an unconscious San in his arms. The youngest of them was pale, though his face was flushed red. Fever radiated from his skin, hotter than he had felt all day. 

Yunho told them how he was woken by San asking for help and running to the bathroom, he himself bolting behind the sick member to find him being violently sick. Seonghwa had just arrived when San just fell over, unconscious, after asking to be taken to the hospital.

Hongjoong stayed kneeling beside the sick man, stroking back sweat-soaked hair and shushing his whimpers. He stayed there when Jongho entered, clutching Mingi’s hand and informing them that an ambulance was on the way and that the managers would meet them there. He stayed there when Yeosang stumbled inside, worried after hearing the commotions. He stayed there until the paramedics arrived and Seonghwa gently pulled him into his arms.

“Did he ever have his appendix out?”, one paramedic asked. Jongho gasped.

Hongjoong was filled with dread, memories long buried resurfacing. 

Being so sick himself, throwing up in a meeting with the CEO. Unable to keep anything down and the high fever. Vomiting up blood on the drive to the hospital and the danger of sasaengs. 

Subconsciously he grasped Seonghwa’s hand tighter as he denied the question. 

“You think it’s appendicitis?”, Seonghwa asked, seemingly remembering the same things as Hongjoong.

“I think his appendix ruptured”, the paramedic said, “we’ll rush him to the hospital now.”

“Can I… can I come with you?”, Hongjoong asked quietly. He couldn’t stand the thought of letting a member this sick out of his sight.

The paramedic nodded and within a minute San was strapped onto the gurney and Hongjoong found himself in the back of an ambulance, clutching his dongsaeng’s hand tightly.

He couldn’t tell how long the drive was, suddenly San was wheeled through doors he wasn’t allowed through and then he was pulled into an embrace by the manager-noona who was waiting for him.

A doctor asked them into an office and Hongjoong was barely able to follow the conversation between the two managers and the doctor. He kept playing with one of the rings he had forgotten to take off before bed and only looked up when he saw the male manager sign a document.

“Surgery”, the noona whispered, apparently noticing how spaced out Hongjoong was, and rubbed his upper arm in comfort. “Don’t worry, you know it’s a standard routine.”

If he hadn’t been so focused on staring at his own lap and blinking back tears he would have seen the doctor open his mouth to protest and then think better of it.

⌛

Filming went on the next day. They were all paid actors and they knew well enough that the show needed to go on. The manager who had stayed at the hospital with San kept sending them updates and finally they received the message that he had woken up.

The director had pity on them and decided to cut out some content so they could leave earlier. Not even half an hour after the relieving message came through they were squeezed in two vans and on the way to the hospital, even Wooyoung insisting on coming despite his emetophobia and hate for hospitals in general.

San was incredibly groggy when they arrived but was smiling ear to ear as he saw them. Not even the nasal cannula dimmed his smile. Mingi and Yeosang had even ducked into the hospital gift shop and bought a plushy which San immediately wrapped into his arms. Wooyoung jumped over his own shadow and hugged San closely, never once leaving his side for more than a few steps at a time. Seonghwa, after hugging San to his heart’s content, pulled Wooyoung on his lap, sitting on one of the provided chairs. 

“How are you feeling, baby?”, Hongjoong asked, sitting down on the bed beside the younger. San was still pale and slightly feverish but the manager assured them that the doctors thought he was healing well. 

“Tired but it doesn’t hurt anymore”, San said weakly, smiling. “Why did it stop hurting, hyung? I don’t really remember anything after going to bed, just that the pain went away somehow stuck.”

“Your appendix burst, San-ah”, Yunho explained, having spent every minute of the filming breaks online and researching until Jongho had confiscated his phone. “That’s when the pain went away.”

“Oh”, San said, “I don’t think that was good?”

“Not at all”, Jongho added, still looking a bit frightened. Seonghwa had reported that while he had managed to get Mingi and Yunho to cuddle up together and they fell asleep eventually last night he had stayed up for a long time with the worried maknae. 

“It’s over now, though”, Hongjoong soothed, “it’s healing well and that’s all that matters. Soon you’ll be able to join us again.”

San gave them the widest smile.

Notes: for the lovely and amazing @dudadragneel who requested this ages ago 💜 also check out her blog!

Masterlist links: Tafee - Full Masterlist Tafee's Masterlist - ATEEZ

#Kpop #Kpop sick #Kpop sickfic #Sickfic #Emeto #🧚🏻‍♀️ #Ateez #Ateez sick #Sick ateez #Ateez sickfic #⌛ #kpop blog #sick san #caretaker seonghwa #caretaker hongjoong #caretaker yunho #🐿️ #⭐ #🐶 #⛰️ #Title from Paradigm (ATEEZ)

[wounds-seen-and-unseen]

Vagdhandaja-Prologue

The actual fic scenes will be under the cut. This is world building of a sorts before the cut.

Arjun’s character here is very, very removed from canon (obviously, seeing that canon is an epic that is more than a 1000 years old) so I am only going to explain whatever is relevant to this story.

The milieu I am going for is an alternate universe of Delhi (India’s capital, in case anyone does not know) where the Kauraveya family are quite influential politicians for the most part. Arjun is the cherished youngest son of the family, very close to his mother, having lost his father as a child. He is a decorated war hero, known for both his battle prowess and his gallantry. He is an old school gentleman, so to speak. He values all human life, he prefers to avoid loss of life as much as possible. He married his wife, Subhadra, for love. Her brother, Krishn is his best friend. At the beginning of this story, he is escaping from a place he barely remembers.

Satyaka, the PoV for the prologue, is distantly related to Krishn, and by extension, Arjun’s mother Pritha, (Krishn is canonically Arjun’s first cousin, in this story, their blood relationship may be a little more removed). His son, Yuyudhana, not mentioned in this chapter by name, is Subhadra and Krishn’s friend here. I think that’s all the background needed for this story for now, but if something is unclear, please feel free to DM or ask me!

Trigger warnings: Panic attacks, discussion of intravenous drug use, disoriented character, brief emeto mention, distressed character.

Tagging @blue-lotus333 and @whither-wander-whump

Please ask or message if you want to be added to or removed from the tag list!

There are a few Sanskrit terms used here, meanings given below:

1. Pitr-shraadh: Shraadh is a Hindu ritual, in which one honours the dead. Pitr-shraadh specifically, as far as I know, is a ritual in which one honours their ancestors.

2. Pooja: Prayer ritual

3. Mata: Mother (respectful)

Prologue

Satyaka Varshney, on the way to the capital

I click the ignition off, glancing cursorily by my side at my son, fast asleep. I suppose a small break wouldn’t hurt.

Cracking my aching knuckles, I open the car door, sliding out and stretching. The wind is rustling through crowded forest greenery, fresh and clean. An unfamiliar thump directs my gaze to my son once more, still peacefully sleeping in the car. Keeping him in the line of my sight, I edge forward.

That doesn’t turn out to be a very wise thing to do in the pitch black of the depth of night, as I knock into something. Blindly reaching out, my hand hits solid flesh.

I can feel the flinch beneath my fingers, hear the faintly clicking, chattering teeth.

‘S-so-sorry. Plea-please don’t-don’t-they-I’- I blink. In front of me is a young man, hardly visible in the dark.

Whatever little I can see of him, he is obviously scared, shaking, streaks of mud on his torn shirt, what once used to probably be military camouflage. ‘I’m sorry, s-sir.’ He says, cringing away from me. ‘Hey there, young man,’ I whisper, the boy putting in my mind a spooked horse. ‘It’s alright. I’m not going to turn you in. You on the run from those outlaws down there?’ ‘Out-outlaws? Sir?’ The frank confusion in his voice has me backtrack. What the hell has happened to this young man?

‘Never mind that. Where are you coming from? Do you have anywhere to go to?’

He blinks. Looks pensive for a moment, then, face tight and eyes on the floor, he whispers, voice hoarse, ‘I…I am not sure, sir. I don’t-I don’t know what this place is. Where are we?’ I sigh. ‘Are you alright?’ The boy seems disoriented enough to warrant that insipid question. He looks down at himself, then musters a smile as he looks back up, still not meeting my eyes. ‘I think so, sir? I will be.’

‘You sure don’t look it,’ I mutter, shucking off my coat, looking critically at him, the ceaseless shivering, the remnants of bloodstains on his face. I hand the coat over to him. ‘Here. You look like you need it. And this place isn’t safe. Would you like to come with me?’ His gaze skitters away from me. ‘I-thank you sir, but I’m dirty. I wouldn’t want to be a burden.’ He’s clearly making effort to pronounce his words right. ‘And you aren’t. I have a son your age. I’d want him to be safe, just like I’m sure your family wants you safe and sound.’ I wrap the coat around his shaking shoulders. ‘There.’ He flinches away from my touch. ‘Easy. It’s alright. Can you walk?’ He nods. ‘Yes. I will. Where’- ‘I’ll tell you. Follow me.’ He does that obediently enough, although he looks over his shoulder for every step he takes. From what I can understand of his situation, I don’t blame him for the same.

Once we are leaning against the hood of my car, I probe gently. ‘Look, kid, I want to help you. Honestly. But I can’t do that if you don’t tell me anything.’ Frustration echoes in his voice as he replies ‘I am grateful, sir, but I really don’t-I remember, I had been on duty. I had asked leave from my senior so that I could do the pitr shraadh. I finished the pooja. I drank some water that was in my canteen, and then…then my head spun. Some people were trying to-to drag me off. I don’t know why, I’d never seen them before. I fought as best as I could. But I lost. That’s all I know. Then I woke up shaking on some unknown floor. I escaped as soon as I could. Honestly, sir, I’m not-I don’t lie. I don’t. You’ve done so much…I wouldn’t.’ His shivering increases as he finishes his speech, and he stumbles. ‘Whoa!’ ‘I…sorry, sir. I’m dizzy.’ ‘I can see that, kid. How long has it been since you ate?’ I ask, keeping a firm hold of his hand. He shakes his head. ‘Okay. Okay. I think these outlaws did you in. We’re at the edge of their outpost. You seem to be real lucky that they haven’t caught you yet. Tell me where you want to go, ‘kay? I’ll see if I can help you there.’ ‘To the capital. The Kauraveya Mansion.’ ‘You’re one of ‘em, huh? Some distant coz of mine married into that family. The younger son, the legitimate one, that is. I remember attending her wedding, barely married myself, too besotted by my own wife, with eyes for nought but the food. I hear the lady is mighty beautiful, though.’ He smiles, I can see the flash of teeth in the dark, feel the tense pull of his shoulder relax slightly under my hand.

‘The most beautiful in the world,’ he says, softly. ‘She is my mother. I’ll tell her that I heard the food in her wedding was really nice.’ I laugh. ‘You’re one of the Vrishni clan, then, sir? Krishn said that his clan is huge.’ ‘Aye. So you’re one of us, too, in a way.’ He shrugs. ‘I suppose so?’ ‘Of course you are. However distant, ain’t a matter. Once a connection is established, it’s there forever. You know Krishn?’ I shake my head. ‘Course you do. Never mind that, come in,’ I open the door of my car. ‘Get a bit warm, have somethin’ to drink. Wouldn’t want you to collapse like that again. Should coz find out her kiddo fainted on my watch, I’m sure she’d have my head.’ He laughs, soft and sincere. ‘Her name is Pritha. I’m Arjun. And you’re probably right, mata is very…protective.’ ‘As she very well should be, a handsome young lad like you.’ He looks down. ‘Is that a blush? I see you aren’t used to teasing yet.’

He peeks into the car. ‘Careful there. My young bison is snoring in here.’ ‘Dad. ‘M not a bison of any sort! And who’s this?’ ‘Cousin o’ yours. Arjun Kauraveya, I take it?’ He nods. My son starts upright. ‘Krishn’s brother-in-law? His best friend? Whoa. I met their family a few days ago. Both the ladies were…pretty distraught.’

The boy at my side closes his eyes, obviously affected. ‘My fault,’ he whispers. I cuff my idiot of a kid. ‘Motor mouth, can’t you think of what you speak?’ I hiss at him, jerking my chin at the distraught younger man.

‘And you.’ I turn to Arjun. ‘None of that, kid. You didn’t ask to be captured like that.’ ‘No, but’- ‘Hey, you’re gonna go home, alright? They’re yours to take care of.’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking,’ my son murmurs. Arjun shakes his head. ‘It’s alright…you were honest, thank you for that.’ My son shakes his head in return. ‘No. It’s not like you ran off on your own. You were on duty, right?’ Neither I nor Arjun correct him, leaving him to his ignorance. ‘You’re doing your best, that’s all you can do.’ The other man doesn’t look very convinced but nods his head.

I hand him a bottle of water. ‘There you go. Drink up.’ His hand shakes as he takes the bottle. I drank the water in my canteen, I remember him saying. And then my head spun. Small wonder he is scared. I take it back, drinking a gulp myself. ‘There. It’s safe, son.’ His gaze flies to mine, finding the floor again in a flash. ‘I’m’- I cut him off. ‘Nothin’ to say sorry for. Given what you’re comin’ from, it’s perfectly understandable.’

Once he’s had the water, I gesture to a sandwich. ‘Get some food inside ya, ‘kay? I can drive you to the capital, sure, we gotta go there, too. Not your house, of course not, but Lutyen’s street should work? He’s wide-eyed, staring at me as if afraid to believe. ‘Sir..I can’t ask that’- ‘Nah, you ain’t askin’. Don’t worry about it. Go on, eat the thing.’

He tries. A bite later, he stops. ‘I don’t think I can,’ he says, sounding guilty. ‘What’s the matter, kiddo?’ ‘I might be si’- he’s cut off as he gags, shoving his head out of the window. ‘Whoa. Okay. Want me to stop the car?’ He shakes his head jerkily. ‘N-no. It’s ‘kay.’

‘Wait.’ My son’s voice is cool. ‘Yeah?’ Arjun asks. ‘Those marks on your arm…did you do that? Are you an IV user? Is that why you’re confused?’ ‘W-what?’ ‘Hey!’ I interject, the kid clearly struggling to understand the pointed question. ‘He was kidnapped, bud, he didn’t’- ‘No!’ It’s the loudest I’ve heard his voice. ‘No, I wouldn’t. Mata hates that kinda stuff, I don’t even drink.’ He shakes his head. ‘I didn’t do this, please believe me.’

I glare at my son. ‘Apologize. Seriously, is this the kind of question you ask?’ Arjun blanches. ‘I-I didn’t, but…they held me down, I’m-I’m remembering.’ His voice is blank. His eyes are flaring wide as they turn to me. ‘Could they have drugged…’ he trails off. ‘They might have,’ he answers himself. ‘Maybe that’s why I feel sick. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I fought, I did, I did, I’-

‘Hey.’ My son intercedes as the younger man’s breathing quickens. ‘I’m sorry, alright? I didn’t know. If what you say is true, and I believe it is, you are not to blame. Take a breath, okay?’ He does. ‘Good. Now, just get it out, what you remember. Maybe we can help you piece it together.’ ‘Yeah…’ he murmurs, shaky. ‘Okay. I…oh. Oh, no. No, no, no. No…’ His voice falters and breaks as he repeats a frantic denial. ‘What happened?’ I ask, trying to break him out. ‘I-I broke my vow, I broke it!’ He’s vitriolic, sheer loathing in his voice. ‘God, I broke it…How could I have done it?’ ‘You did what you had to survive, kid, it’s-you can make it better, okay?’ ‘No,’ he says, his voice a knell of grief. ‘What I did…it’s unforgivable.’

#my writing #nila writes #fic: vagdhandaja #arjun kauraveya #arjun #satyaka #prologue #tw panic attacks #tw iv drug use #tw disorientation #tw vomiting #archer writes

[brutal-nemesis]

Goretober X: Don't Be Vein

This one very short I've been super busy the past week and also I'm very tired last actual gore piece for @coyotehusk goretober tho so yee haw go me

←Previous - Castys Masterlist - Goretober Masterlist - Next→

Ingredients: body horror of the surreal variety, gore, fun with delicate lil blood vessels, emeto mention

Castys had absolutely zero idea what Kuro was doing. Not that he usually did, but he could at least guess most of the time. Now, she was just rooting around inside his arm, digging deep into the muscle as he bit down hard on the gag in his mouth and tried not to wiggle too much.

“There it is!” Castys could feel Kuro’s smile as she looked down at the gaping wound she’d been probing around in. “I finally found one of your larger blood vessels. I want to see if it’ll do the same thing your intestines do.” Castys raised an eyebrow. They probably would, but he wasn’t exactly eager to find out. Unfortunately, he was about to.

Kuro was gentle as she freed the vein from inside of his muscle, most likely trying not to break it and make him bleed to death before she was ready. It was a lot smaller than Castys expected, just sort of pink and stringy, like a…worm. Too soon. He had to think about something other than worms. His leg started hurting anyway, as if this leg could even remember pain that it never fucking felt in the first place since the one that did got chopped off. But his scars on his torso and face ached sometimes, too, and those were from so long ago that he doubted any of them had never been replaced. 

After a long time of careful cutting and pulling, a small number of his blood vessels were totally free of his muscle, laid out limply on his exposed bone. Castys’s view of them wasn’t great, but he was very much okay with that. Oh, and now he was going to get to die, so hopefully things wouldn’t be fucked up when he came back.

Things were fucked up. 

He looked down at his arm almost immediately after coming back to life, and the sight was…surreal, to say the least. The thin vessels laid on top of the skin of his inner forearm, sort of fused to it at the bottom, their ends leading back down into his flesh. They pulsated weirdly as his blood flowed through them, and the sight wasn’t something Castys wanted to get used to. 

“That was fun! I haven’t done delicate work like that in a while. Do you mind if I do that to your other limbs?” Kuro asked as she removed the gag, excitement in her voice.

“I do in fact mind, but I don’t think you care, so why are you asking?”

Kuro shrugged. “So you can feel like you have a little bit of control for a moment.”

“It’s not helping.”

“Aw, too bad,” she said as she tied the gag over his mouth again.

Back to disregarding his opinion, Kuro started on his other arm, and once that was done she moved on to his legs. The whole process took hours, intense pain and cold and dripping blood, and he was hardly aware of anything else by the time she was done. Once again, she made him look, and once again, it wasn’t something he wanted to see, all of the pink squiggles running up and down his arms and legs, pulsing along to his heartbeat. It sort of made him feel sick for some reason, so he did his best not to puke into the gag.

He didn’t know how much more of this he could take, and that scared him.

Next→

Castys Cult: @as-a-matter-of-whump​ @blackrosesandwhump​ @fanmanga1357-blog​​ @thehopelessopus​ @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi​ @hearse-song​ @muddy-swamp-bitch @whumpasaurus101 @yet-another-heathen​​ @galaxywhump​ @starnight-whump​ @his-unspoken-words​ @misspelledwitch​ @suspicious-whumping-egg​ @pumpkin-spice-whump​ @painsandconfusion​ @i-can-even-burn-salad​​ @befuddled-calico-whump​ @whumpinggrounds​ @whump-queen​ @whumpedydump

#i wrote something #castys #kuro #gore #immortal whumpee #body horror #hard to come up with an idea for this one so sorry its not much #but i am looking forward to a break with no more deadlines #my dog has been asleep on my lap for the past hour send help my legs are in pain #might have to commit the cardinal sin of making her move :( #okay bye im eepy

[angstyaches]

“i know your sick but… maybe we can cuddle? watch a movie?” said by Donnacha to Henry?

Word Count: 2,094

Dialogue Prompt List

CW: emeto (the actual emeto part is very briefly mentioned, I'm sorry), stomach noises, belly rubs, food, platonic cuddling, stressed caretaker.

___

Henry shoved back the top half of the duvet, since it was obscuring his view of who was standing in his room. He also didn’t have his glasses on. But he was fairly sure that only one of his flatmates would burst in while his room smelled faintly of vomit.

“Oh, shit,” someone whispered. “Were you sleeping?”

“Donnacha?” The hard k scraped at the back of Henry’s throat and his lungs pinched. It felt like his oesophagus had been wrung out and twisted to within an inch of its existence.

“Yeah. You okay?”

Henry’s hand flailed lazily, in search of his glasses. He lifted his head a little bit so he could put them on, and the effort of it all left him feeling like a puddle of jelly. Donnacha stood, backlit by the hallway light, in tracksuit bottoms and a hoodie.

“I’m still sick,” Henry croaked as a warning. He eyed Donnacha with no small amount of envy. “I don’t have a farm boy’s immune system like someone I know.”

“I know you’re sick, but… do you want to cuddle?” Donnacha folded his arms, unfolded them again, and shoved them in the pockets of his tracksuit, like he didn’t know what to do with them. “Maybe we could watch one of your Gibbly-Jibbly movies?”

Henry squinted up at him from his pillow. He nudged his glasses into place with his forefinger. “My whatty-what movies?”

Donnacha shrugged. “You’re always telling me I’ve gotten the name wrong, so I’ve decided to just say both from now on.”

“Right.” Henry stifled a yawn. It suddenly occurred to him that he was topless, but somehow, that didn’t really matter. “It’s Ghibli, by the way.”

“See?” Donnacha flicked one hand like he was batting away a fly. “Even when you’re sick, you’re correcting me.”

“Oh, relax,” Henry grumbled, sitting upright. He rolled his eyes as Donnacha started retreating towards the hall. “Donnacha, come back.”

Donnacha eyed him sidelong from the doorway. “Why? You’re just gonna keep bullying me.”

“I’m not bullying you. Stop complaining,” Henry grumbled, easing himself up onto his side and trying not to audibly groan as his joints protested. “I’m the sick one.”

“You’re getting up?”

Attempting to. “Mmm.”

Donnacha followed Henry’s gaze towards the floor, where his cane had tipped over at some point since he’d last used it. Donnacha hurried to pick it up and hand it to him, and then instantly looked embarrassed.

“Sorry,” he said. “It’s not that I thought you couldn’t do it yourself, I was just –”

“Donnacha, it’s fine. Thank you,” Henry frowned, leaning on the cane while still seated. He nodded towards his cluttered desk chair as his body adjusted to being upright. “Can you grab a t-shirt and a jumper for me?”

“Yeah?” Donnacha replied tentatively.

He scratched the side of his head as he turned towards the pile of clothing that Henry had never bothered to fold and put away. One of the upsides about being sick in bed is that the rest of the furniture could easily be used as wardrobe space while it wasn’t in use.

“Um –”

Henry cracked a private half-smile at Donnacha’s reluctance. After spending so many years as Autumn’s boyfriend, he was probably nervous about making the wrong choice when it came to clothes.

“Anything’s fine,” Henry said.

Donnacha tossed him a grey t-shirt and a green cable knit jumper. Henry let his cane rest against the bedside locker and pulled the t-shirt on over his head.

A loud, swirling rumble came from the pit of his stomach while his face was still entangled in the fabric. Henry froze for a second, feeling it churn around nothing but air and whatever bile hadn’t already made it up his throat. He’d been curled up in bed for so long, it must have been a shock for his organs and muscles when he suddenly stretched both arms upwards.

He sheepishly pulled the t-shirt down over his pale belly. He half-glanced over at Donnacha, who didn’t react beyond a tight smile.

Henry managed to get his jumper on without agitating his stomach again.

He took a few deep breaths before committing to a standing motion. He hobbled forward on his cane and Donnacha stepped backwards, palms outstretched by his sides as though waiting for Henry to pitch forward and need catching.

Henry thought about protesting that he was okay, but there was something nice about having someone fuss about him. Besides, he was dizzy, and a little weak after losing so much of his stomach lining and lying in bed for so long.

“Has Lu been home?” he grunted as they reached the hallway.

“Nope.” Donnacha’s hand brushed Henry’s elbow. “She’s been hiding out since I caught the bug, and she hasn’t been back since.”

“Hiding out where? With whom?”

“No idea. She have a girlfriend right now?”

“Lucy doesn’t have girlfriends.” Henry made the mistake of glancing down the hallway and catching glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror. The door was wide open. He looked absolutely ashen, and his beige-coloured cotton top made him look like a ghost that could have met his end over a century ago.

“What, never?” Donnacha asked.

“Unless she does and… never tells me.”

“Well, that’s not likely,” Donnacha assured him.

Insecurity still prodded at him, though. He and Lucy had been best friends since they were kids, and he liked to think of himself as unjudgmental in most – okay, some… okay, a few – areas. She wouldn’t have any reason to hide anything from him, at least not one that he could immediately think of.

Henry was panting slightly, fighting dizziness, by the time he reached the sofa. The cushions were just springy enough for his weight to sink into, letting him know he wouldn’t be rising again quickly anytime soon. It wasn’t just the stiffness in his joints; his body felt sapped. “Would you mind getting me a glass of water?”

“Yeah, no bother.” Donnacha made an incredulous face, as though he was appalled that Henry had asked politely instead of snapping his fingers and making a demand. He talked over his shoulder as he went towards the kitchen. “I know it’s late, but do you want something to eat as well? I didn’t see you come out of your room all day, so you must be starving.”

Remembering that hollow, acidic growl in his stomach, Henry placed a contemplative hand on in as he laid back against the sofa cushions. He felt horribly deflated after puking his insides out for two days, and he hadn’t had any waves of nausea in a few hours now.

“Maybe,” he mumbled.

“Hmm?” Donnacha called out from the kitchen.

“I said ‘maybe’.”

With no more follow-up questions to answer, Henry focused on stilling the swirling, pounding sensation in his head. He heard Donnacha opening and closing a few cupboards, humming something indistinguishable on the other side of the partition. The kettle bubbled and seemed to hum along with him.

Henry shook his head gently at himself. He wasn't one to romanticise the mundane, so he was going to blame this on the sickness and dehydration.

Donnacha came back through to him, carrying a glass in one hand and a mug in the other.

He started to put both down on the coffee table, but Henry sat forward and reached for the glass of water. He started drinking and couldn’t stop, even when it felt like his stomach was starting to knot up under the stress of so much liquid at once. He smacked his lips – which somehow felt even drier than before – as he finished, and looked up at Donnacha.

Donnacha raised his eyebrows.

“Um,” Henry smiled. “Could you –?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Thank you.”

As Donnacha went to refill the glass, Henry sat a little further forward to pick up the mug. He took it by the handle and supported the opposite side with a fingertip against the rim. The chicken scent was laced with preservatives, but it still made Henry’s cheeks water so hard they stung.

Donnacha placed the water on the table and eyed the mug in Henry’s hand. “Wish I could offer you something more interesting than a hot cup.”

“Yes,” Henry muttered. “I was truly hoping you were whipping up some foie gras back there.”

“Well, obviously, since the first thing they teach you in flight school is how to make foie gras.”

“Exactly.”

As Henry blew on the thin, steamy soup, Donnacha crouched on the living room floor and browsed Henry’s DVD collection for titles he hadn’t seen yet. They were all lined up – alphabetically by title, of course – in the lower half of the TV stand.

“How’s it going, by the way?” Henry asked softly. He knew he was bad at keeping track of what Donnacha had going on, and the past few days had meant he was even more out of the loop. “School.”

“It’s grand. Stressful, but exciting.” Donnacha paused. “Hey, is this one any good?”

Henry rocked his mug slightly, trying to divert a floating, formerly freeze-dried pea away from where he planned on taking his next sip. His glasses had started to steam up. “Yes.”

“You didn’t even look.”

“They’re all good, Donnacha. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be in my collection.”

“I’ll stick it on, so.”

Once the DVD was set up, Donnacha plopped himself to Henry’s left, legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles. He lifted an arm so that Henry could lean into him, and then wrapped the arm around Henry’s shoulders.

As he allowed himself to sink into the embrace, Henry found himself wishing he had a blanket to drape over himself; Donnacha’s warmth against his left side was so nice that his right side left cold by comparison. He didn’t want to make Donnacha get up again, so he just hoped the soup would warm him all the way up.

His appetite surfaced as he began to sip more eagerly. Some of the wobbly weakness in his arms and legs, plus the dizzying weight in his head, faded a little. His stomach began to shift a little as it filled up, but only to the point where Henry barely noticed it.

“Finished with that?” Donnacha asked.

Henry looked down at his mug, which was empty now, besides a few freeze-dried veggies that he’d strategically dodged. It barely held any warmth anymore, either. “Yeah.”

Donnacha put a hand out to take the mug. Henry caught glimpse of the display on Donnacha’s smart watch, and it made him frown.

“Is it not Saturday?”

Donnacha tilted his head as he leaned forward to prop the mug on the coffee table. “Yeah, it is.”

“Do you not have training in the morning?”

Donnacha’s expression became clouded as he settled back against the cushions. “Yeah, I do.”

“It’s –” Henry pointed towards the TV. “This film’s not going to be over until –”

“It’s grand, Hen.” Donnacha rubbed the side of Henry’s arm. “Do you want anything else?”

“No, I’m good.”

Donnacha smiled. “Cool.”

Henry swallowed against a nagging sensation in the pit of his belly. Concern, maybe; or perhaps he just needed to burp. “Any particular reason you’re so clingy tonight? I’m not complaining, I just…”

Donnacha shrugged. He brushed the tip of his nose against Henry’s hair. “Sometimes it’s just nice to hold someone.”

“It is…” Henry agreed in earnest, but still couldn’t help wondering if something was wrong.

Before he could even decide whether or not to keep questioning his friend, Henry’s stomach gurgled. He almost reacted as he would have if he’d been curled up alongside a date he’d snagged on an app – by coughing and trying to cover up the sound. But since even a fake cough would probably destroy his tender throat and oesophagus, he just sat still in his embarrassment.

Donnacha glanced away from the TV for all of 0.01 of a second, as though scouting out the exact position of Henry’s stomach so he could plant his hand on top of it. He absently rubbed it, back and forth, as he went back to watching the movie.

“The soup settling in okay?”

“Mmm,” Henry grunted. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

As the movie continued, Henry’s stomach started to ache. Horribly. Not to the same extent as it had during the very worst of the bug, but certainly as badly as it had at the very beginning.

Donnacha was still alternating between rubbing it gently, then letting his hand come to a stop for a while as though he’d temporarily forgotten what he had been doing, before starting up again. Henry wasn’t entirely sure that the pressure wasn’t making him feel worse, but did he really have the heart to tell him to stop?

Guilt mingled with the squelching mess of soup and acid in his belly.

He couldn’t even focus on the movie, or make himself care about whether or not Donnacha was enjoying it. Usually, he couldn’t help stealing glances at Donnacha’s expressions, but right now, it was taking everything just to sit still; and he was failing at that, too.

“Are you okay?” Donnacha asked.

Henry shifted his weight for the dozenth time in the past ten minutes.

“I’m just –” A dense weight pressed on Henry’s stomach, and he could now say for certain that it had nothing to do with Donnacha’s hand. He hoisted himself forward, hands on his knees to keep himself from slumping against the coffee table. “I-I might –”

His stomach lurched to shut him up. Shoulders trembling, Henry put out a hand to grab Donnacha’s. Relief washed over him when Donnacha jumped to his feet to help him up.

He had belched chicken hot cup down the front of his clothes before he’d even made it to the hallway.

#Lucyverse Henry #Lucyverse Donnacha #sickfic #emeto #emeto fic #emeto sickfic #OC sickfic #OC emeto #platonic caretaking #platonic OCs #hurt comfort #hurt and comfort

[iwritesickfic]

Seamus/Theo emeto fic!

He hasn't seen Theo in over a month. A month and four days to be exact. It's the longest they've gone without each other in at least a year, and the first time he's come home to their shared apartment. Technically it's the same apartment he used to live in by himself, but it feels different. As he steps out of his car from JFK onto the Brooklyn sidewalk he's almost giddy with the knowledge Theo will be asleep upstairs. 

It's almost 3 AM, so he tries to be quiet as he unlocks the door and hauls his luggage up to the second floor where their bedroom is. As soon as he opens the door and sees Theo lying there, he knows he's some degree of sick. How sick or what kind of sick he doesn't know, but even in the dim light he can see the flush of a fever high on his cheeks. That, and he's lying on the left side of the bed. Seamus's side. And there's only ever one reason he does that, though he'll probably never admit it.

Though Seamus knows he'll probably wake him up at some point, he tries his best to be quiet while he strips down to his boxers. Just as he's about to climb into bed, Theo's eyes flutter open, and smile stretches across his face.

"Hey," he says, and Seamus smiles back. He leans down and gives him a slow, lingering kiss. A kiss he's been waiting to give for a month and four days. Theo's lips are hot, and when his fingers brush his cheek he feels the same fever heat there.

Still, he doesn't want to ruin this moment. At least, Theo doesn't feel warm enough to warrant ruining it. They'll deal with it in the morning, whatever it is. For now he just wants to revel in this feeling.

"Hey. Move over, you're on my side."

They fall asleep pressed close together, but when Seamus wakes up he's confused as to why. It's still dark out, and the bed next to him is cold. He's about to roll over and go back to sleep when he hears the distinct sound of retching coming from the other side of the bathroom door. He sighs and gets up, walking into the ensuite to see Theo on his knees in front of the toilet, his forehead resting on the seat. His too-pale skin is shiny with sweat, his hair damp and stuck to the back of his neck.

When he sees Seamus he moans softly.

"Fuck," he mumbles, and Seamus kneels down next to him, resting a hand on his back.

"How long?" he asks.

"Couple days. I'm sorry, i should've gone downstairs. I didn't," he takes a deep breath, "I didn't want to wake you up. Or, have you know. At least until tomorrow morning."

"First, don't apologize. Second, I already knew, so it's no big deal." He stands up and fills a little glass with water, handing it down to Theo, who takes it in a shaking hand. He lifts his head, looking up at him.

"You knew? You didn't say anything."

"Of course I knew. But you didn't mention it, and it didn't seem catastrophic, so I just let it be." Theo takes a small sip of water into his mouth, swishes, and spits it into the bowl.

"How?" 

"It was obvious. I mean, you were on my side of the bed." Theo scoffs. His arms are wrapped around his stomach, his face still pinched in pain. Seamus sits down behind him, pulling him to his chest.

"And what does that mean?" He murmurs. Even so overly warm and sticky with sweat, Seamus loves the feeling of Theo's body resting against his. He's missed it so badly. He buries his nose is Theo's hair, even though it's more than a little sweaty.

"You and I both know exactly why you were on my side," he says teasingly. Theo sighs.

"Ok, well, it's very embarrassing," he says wearily, and Seamus is surprised he didn't argue.

"I think what you mean to say is that it's incredibly cute and you're physically unable to say something that vulnerable." Theo rests more of his weight on Seamus's chest.

"Wanna know something even worse? I wore one of your t shirts last night. I just was…" He trails off. "I wanted to call you, but I knew you were at that thing. I just needed more of you. And I…" he sighs, and turns his face into the crook of Seamus's neck. There's a long pause. "I love how you smell."

"That is so insanely adorable of you," Seamus teases. "I didn't think you'd actually say it out loud."

"Well I hope you have a good memory because I will not be saying it again," he mumbles, and though his voice is grumpy, Seamus can hear his smirk.

"But it's so cute. You wore my shirt when you were sick because it smelled like me!" Theo groans.

"Stop or I'll throw up again."

"But you know I'd answer your call even if i was on stage." He's pressing one of his palms on Theo's stomach now. He's a little bloated, but for someone who's normally almost concave it's glaring. He moves his hand in a slow circle and Theo sighs again.

"Exactly. I knew you'd pick up, and then you'd be worried all night. And I'm fine, I am." His voice is thick with exhaustion, hoarse from vomiting.

"If this is fine I'd hate to see you sick." Theo huffs out a soft breath.

"You don't get tired of worrying over me? Doesn't it wear you out?"

"Absolutely not." They sit in silence for a few moments, Seamus rubbing slow circles on his stomach. "You done?"

"I guess. I don't know. But i don't want to throw up in your bed." Seamus kisses the closest part of him he can reach.

"Our bed now, T."

#my writing #illness kink #sickfic #whump #fever #emeto #theres no read more on mobile :(

[emetophobiahelp]

GEN V (The Boys SPINOFF) SEASON 1 WARNINGS

This list, alongside auditory or visual scenes (and anything adjacent), will include mentions of sensitive words as well, so the post is a little long.

I try to give a couple seconds of leeway, so when you click to my timestamp, you don’t accidentally catch the end of a scene you wanted to skip. Hope this helps somebody!

To start off, Gen V includes themes of ED, so stay safe if that is triggering. This is especially prominent in episodes 2 and 3.

For some context, without giving anything away, a majority of this involves a particular character, Emma, whose powers revolve around ingesting/expelling food in order to change size – unfortunately involving v*ing, in an ED kind of way.

E1:

- At 30:27, Emma begins her ritual to become small. Nothing happens until 31:04, after Emma drinks her water. It’s mainly auditory (visual of the act is mostly obscured but obvious) and ends at ~31:31 (when you see a skyline, you’re good).

E2:

- At 21:53, Emma discloses the nature of her powers. Nothing graphic, only sensitive word is p**ge, but Justine does make a suggestive finger gesture. Just a mention, and the topic changes at 22:24.

- At 27:21, a student makes a mocking finger gesture and simulates r* sounds toward Emma. This ends at 27:29.

- Then, at 27:40, after the line “Can I please see the phone?” Justine publicly exposes the nature of Emma’s powers, using the phrase t* up. Just a mention, and this ends at 27:47.

- At 28:24, after Justine says “Just Nancy Reagan that sh*t”, Harper g*s on her tail. This lasts maybe 2 seconds and ends when Emma comes into the room.

- At about 39:42, the scene begins to pan between Marie contemplating slicing her hand, and Emma v*ing. I’d advise pausing when Marie sits on the floor which will give you a few seconds – this scene is VERY graphic visually and audibly. It ends at 40:19 (when you see Marie at a door, you’re safe).

- At 42:56, a security guard sucks off a flashlight and kind of g*s on it. I didn’t think it was particularly triggering but I’ll put it here just in case.

E3:

The topic of ED and Justine’s exposé comes up a lot during this episode. I’ll note down anything specifically emeto-centric. Nothing explicit happens in this episode, only mentions.

- At 5:48, they discuss the nature of Emma’s powers, without any graphic words. Topic ends at 6:53.

- At 25:15 after Emma’s mom says “and I think that this could help you in a million ways”, Emma discloses that her mom is who “taught her”, using the v* and b* word. It ends at 25:37 when Emma gets up from her seat.

- At 27:18, after Emma says her name, there is some pause, and then she says the p* word. It ends at 27:25.

- At 42:30, after Sam says “like Alice in Wonderland”, Emma says the p* word. It ends at 42:35.

E4:

- During the recap, at 0:24 after Emma says “I have been dying to meet you” we get a repeat v* scene from E1. It ends at 0:29.

- At 20:24, after Sam says “But I’m sick in the head”, they bring up Emma’s powers during their conversation, specifically using the p* word multiple times, getting pretty gross during the last 2 mentions. It’s specifically said at 20:27-20:34 and 20:48-20:53, and then 22:25-20:32.

E5:

- At 4:41, after Emma says, “Do your girl a solid and choke me out of my f—ing misery?” she says the p* word. Scene ends at 4:50.

- At 7:31, after Sam says “especially after you stopped me from doing something terrible”, he mentions t* up. Ends at 7:38.

E6:

- At 34:27, Dr. Cardosa is talking about some anticipated side effects, one of which being “some v*.” Just an off-handed mention, ends at 34:34.

E7:

- At about 1:20, when the infected Supe comes out of the shadows (specifically at 1:38 after the newcomer says “What did they do to you?”), he r* blood in a way that could be alarming, along with some coughing and wheezing. This ends at 1:53, though you can still hear the wheezy breathing until 2:04.

E8:

- During the recap, at 0:46, after Grace says “What you’re describing, it’s g*nocide”, the scene from last episode appears. It ends at 0:50.

#submission #gen v #the boys #your organization is soooo MWAH pleasing 2 me thank u

[pigeonwhumps]

Small Spaces

Immortal Cannon Fodder masterlist

Taglist: @extrabitterbrain @wolfeyedwitch

Phoenix tries out being in a small space to prepare for their next mission. It doesn't go too well.

1.6k

CWs: claustrophobia, panic attack, flashbacks, past abuse, past child abuse, telepath whump, mentions of human trafficking, emeto, begging

"So I go through the vent and Santhiya will be there to help me down, right?"

"Yep," confirms Kai. "She'll remove the cover from that side and be ready for you to bring the explosives inside. Once Lian and I have cleared the compound and transferred the data, we blow it all to kingdom come."

"Fucking finally," growls Santhiya, and Morfydd nods fiercely. Phoenix is yet to encounter this particular group of traffickers, but they know that Santhiya was instrumental in helping rescue some of their victims from a burning building before she was even officially part of the team. This is personal, especially for her, and Phoenix isn't about to let everyone down. Even if it is a very small space.

It feels weird, actually planning for explosions. For Phoenix at least they're usually on-the-spot things, to get them out of tight spaces. They don't usually involve so much planning.

Although Phoenix may have, admittedly, enjoyed liaising with engineering on the explosives a little too much.

"Earth to Phoenix. Ready to see if you'll fit in the vent?"

Phoenix nods, looking at the long rectangular cardboard tube that's been put together on the living room floor. It's the size of the vent, and it's so small that their chest goes tight just looking at it. It's about the same size as the cupboard in their old team's quarters.

This isn't a good time to try this out. Not after seeing them again, bringing all the memories back. They haven't slept properly since, and that always makes things worse. But it needs to be done.

They take a deep breath and drop to their knees in front of the makeshift vent.

It's not that long. It'll take a few minutes at most. It's okay, they'll be fine.

Phoenix crawls into the tube. It's small, far too small, their skin feels like there's bugs skittering over it, but there's a light at the end and they focus on that. It's light and it's not going away any time soon, no-one's going to take it away as punishment, it'll be fine.

The light dims, and they rub their wrists, sleeves suddenly feeling too tight and far too cold. The light's not gone, it's dimmed, Indigo's not here to take it away, but everything's too hot and too small and it's closing in on them.

Phoenix blinks and they're shivering, freezing cold, the only light moonlight passing through a tiny crack in the wooden planks, and in the morning Alicia will patch up their knees and they'll go to school still freezing inside, and no-one will notice because this is just normal, why would anyone notice? By tomorrow evening everything will be healed and back to normal, but for now they're stuck here, in the dark and cold with the old wood creaking, trees rustling, chest tight and twisted up, unable to breathe properly, the suffocating walls closing in around them.

Phoenix blinks again and they're back in the pitch-black cupboard, insides burning, wrists in cold metal, their breathing's picking up and the walls are closing in and they don't know how long they're going to be punished for, they could die in here with walls like that.

"Please." They don't know who they're begging when there's no-one who'll listen but they do anyway. "Please, let me out. I'm sorry. Please."

_

Kai frowns as Phoenix comes to a halt partway through the cardboard tube. They were making their way through steadily and then they just... stopped.

"Are they okay in there?" he asks Lian, who's down the other end. He peers into the tube with a frown.

"They look fine, but... they're just not moving."

"Give them a couple of minutes. It's only cardboard, but–"

Kai's interrupted by Santhiya throwing up on the carpet. When she looks up, wiping her mouth, her face is chalk-white, eyes red-rimmed and urgent.

"Get them out of there," she croaks. Kai gets up but Morfydd's already moving, tearing apart the cardboard with intense concentration.

Phoenix is huddled up, arms around their legs, head in their knees. Shaking harder than Kai's seen in a while.

Kai glances at Morfydd, who nods, and crouches down in front of Phoenix.

"Hey. I'm gonna pick you up now, nice and easy, that's it, arms around me." He speaks lowly, pulling Phoenix's unresisting arms around his neck and lifting them up against him. They're still far too light, and drenched in sweat. "Let's get you sat down, yeah? Easy does it. You're safe, Phoenix."

"I'm sorry, sir," murmurs Phoenix, mind somewhere else entirely, "I've learned my lesson."

Kai stiffens slightly, then forces himself to relax, sitting on the sofa with Phoenix on his lap, their head buried in his neck. He rubs their back.

"Shh. Easy, you're safe."

Morfydd drapes a blanket over Phoenix's shoulders and Kai looks over at them as they sit on the sofa arm beside him.

"Cheers. How's Santhiya doing?"

"Not too well. Lian's looking after her."

"I'll leave him to it then."

Morfydd reaches up a hand and rests it on Phoenix's arm. "They were begging. I don't think it was loud enough for anyone else to hear, but... do you know who it was?"

"They called me sir when I picked them up, and there's only three people I've ever heard them call that," replies Kai grimly. "The other members of their former team."

"Fuck," breathes Morfydd.

"Yeah."

"Will it be too much for them if I stay? I know it is for Santhiya, but I need to help someone. I can't just sit by while my friends... well."

"No, you can stay. They trust you. I'm going to turn into a wolf, see if that helps. It does sometimes. Stay though."

Morfydd nods. "What about the mission?"

"Well, we've got over a fortnight until the next shipment goes out. That should be enough time to calm Phoenix down and complete the mission. And I was thinking maybe Santhiya could take Phoenix with her? We'd have to test the weight though. I don't know. But they can't go through the vent."

"No." Morfydd holds Phoenix gently as Kai transforms and curls around them. Phoenix, still mostly out of it, snuggles into Kai's fur, burying themself in it. "They really do like it. You're okay, Phoenix. You're safe."

_

Once Phoenix is out of the cardboard tube, Lian takes Santhiya by the arm and leads her over to the opposite sofa. Morfydd arrives soon after with a blanket and a mug of hot chocolate, draping the blanket over her shoulders. Santhiya holds it in a white-knuckled grip, the other hand lifting the mug to her mouth, absently taking a sip. She looks awful, haunted, ill, in a way that Lian's rarely seen.

"Santhiya?"

"They're so scared," she says quietly, almost in a monotone. "So scared. Their mind was screaming. I haven't had my defences falter so badly in a long time, since... well, you know... but they smashed through them all. They're so scared. So much. It's them I've been hearing at night sometimes, I recognise it now. The fear, the pain... how do they stand it?" She blinks, eyes bright with unshed tears. "How do they stand it all?"

"That's a question only Phoenix can answer," says Lian. "Along with some others." He rubs Santhiya's back and she sways slightly, looking at Lian with more focus. "How are you feeling now? Any quieter?"

"A little. Still making me nauseous."

"Hey, Kai, are you and Phoenix going to stay here a while?" he asks, not looking away from Santhiya.

Kai gives an affirmative yip.

"Okay. I'm taking Santhiya somewhere quieter." He helps Santhiya to stand, blanket still wrapped around her shoulders, and puts his arm around her waist to hold her steady. "Let's go to your room, come on."

Santhiya nods, putting one foot in front of the other until they reach her bedroom, Lian sitting down with her on the edge of the bed.

"Better?"

"Yeah. I can think again now." The colour's slowly coming back into her cheeks, and she drums her fingers on Lian's leg. "I think... maybe I should've guessed it was them, waking me, after what happened last week. They told you, right?"

"About bumping into their team downstairs? Yeah. No wonder they're getting nightmares strong enough to break through your defences. I mean, only Kai knows what actually happened with their team, but it was clearly bad. Kai wouldn't have spent so much time away if it wasn't."

Santhiya snorts wetly. "I think 'bad' is an understatement. Their reaction... I never want to see them that small again."

Lian nods, handing his friend a tissue. "How are you, though? How's your head?"

"Sore. Fuzzy. Phoenix's mind was a lot. I can still hear their screams."

"Let's get you some painkillers then. Do you want me to stay?"

Santhiya nods, swallowing the pills. "I need a distraction. And I want to try building up my defences more. Not right now, but... later. That sounds bad. I just... it's too much."

Lian shakes his head. "It's not bad, Santh. You shouldn't have to hear people in distress when you're not prepared for it, even if they're your friends. We can certainly work on that."

"It doesn't seem right. I can hear people's worst thoughts but I can't do anything to help. It's not fair."

Lian sighs. He's heard many variations on those words in his time mentoring Santhiya. "One person can't do everything. Just knowing people are in trouble, telling us that, that can be enough. Besides, with Phoenix specifically, your presence as their friend is enough to help."

"But they're so– so hurt. How can just my presence help so much? It doesn't seem right. They can't be that fond of me."

"They are. Believe me, Santh, I've seen the way they look at you. They really, really are."

#whump #whump writing #claustrophobia #flashbacks #past abuse #past minor whump #telepath whump #telepathy #emeto #begging #whumpee and caretaker #hero whump #hero whumpee #hero whumper #immortal whump #immortal whumpee #caretaker turned whumpee #recovery whump #lady whump #immortal cannon fodder #phoenix oc #kai oc #morfydd oc #santhiya oc #lian oc #phoenix likes explosives #like a lot #bbys gotta have a conversation soon about how its Not Normal to be locked in small dark spaces whenever they fuck up #or dont

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

‘I Need You to Pull Over!’

@sicktember 2022 Prompt #24

Fandom/OCs: Shane & Molly OCs

Title: It’s Not Over

Words: 2330

Inspiration: Shane’s bout with the stomach flu is alluded to in the first fic I wrote for Shmolly. 

Author’s comments: What can I say? It’s stomach flu fic. Nothing against you, Shane. There’s only certain people I can bring myself to whump with emeto, and you happen to be one of them. Your fate was sealed when Molly mentioned this stomach bug last year. I’d say sorry but– I’m just the messenger.

CW: multiple mentions of vomiting and diarrhea. This is a stomach flu fic. You have been warned. 

There's nothing quite like a bout of the stomach flu to test a relationship, and for Shane and Molly, the test came relatively early in their courtship. They had been together a little less than a year when gastrointestinal disaster struck. 

Molly first became aware of the impending storm at lunch one day. She and Shane were sitting together in the hospital cafeteria as usual. Shane was generally ravenous by lunchtime and inhaled his food more than ate it. On this particular day though, he barely picked at it and took at most three or four bites the entire time they sat there. Of course, Molly asked him about this strange behavior, unable to miss how clammy he was looking. In response, Shane made a face.

"I'm not feeling so good. My stomach is really messed up today." He belched softly to prove his point, his hand going reflexively to his stomach. "Ugh, and I'm so bloated, look." He shifted away from the table to show her, and sure enough, the middle buttons on his tight, usually well-fitting shirt were straining over his rounded abdomen. 

She made a small sound of concern. 

He shifted uncomfortably, still rubbing his stomach. "I thought eating might help, but it definitely did not. Just made me feel even more gross."

Molly took a deep breath, reaching across the table to press her hand to his forehead. "Poor guy. You do feel a little warm. And you're all sweaty. You gonna make it through work?"

Shane shrugged. "I think I'll be okay. I'll call you if I need to go, though." He stifled another quiet belch just then, and Molly's stomach twisted in response. She could only nod, unspoken understanding hanging between them. They both knew well that a nasty stomach bug was going around the city right now. All the patients were talking about it, and the ER was overrun with it. It wasn't looking good for Dr. Mitchell. Molly's anxiety was suddenly through the roof; historically, she didn't do well with close-proximity puking. 

The two parted ways when the hour ended. Shane looked very down, and Molly wished there was something she could do. She made sure to give him a good hug before they left (around the ribs, steering clear of his stomach) and wished him well. Even with space between them, she could hear his stomach gurgling ominously, and he continued to rub it as he walked away. 

Around four o'clock, not long before their workday was due to end, Molly received a text from Shane:

"S.O.S. Definitely sick 🤢 please come get me ASAP."

Molly's heart fluttered, but she tried to stay calm. She let her boss know she needed to duck out a bit early, and was excused without an issue. She drove across the hospital campus to his building as quickly as she could. Shane was sitting on a bench around the side of the building, out of sight of most passerby. His head was laid back while both hands were clutching his stomach. He hopped up as soon as he saw her car, though, and quickly got in. He immediately leaned over to put his face between his knees, arms wrapped around his middle with a sickly groan. Though Molly was beyond anxious, she was glad for his sake that they had ridden together today of all days. She wasn't sure how he could've driven home on his own in his current state. 

"How bad is it?" she asked cautiously, putting the car in drive as she tried to maneuver as smoothly as possible. "You look terrible."

"I feel terrible," he moaned. "It’s so bad. I've already thrown up twice. Once around three, and again just before I texted you. I actually felt better for a while after the first time, which is why I tried to stay. But I'm just feeling worse every minute now. I'm beyond nauseous. My stomach will not calm down."

Molly bit her lip and focused on the road, unsure what to say. She drove as smoothly as possible, but there was always quite a bit of stopping and starting involved when trying to leave the hospital campus, and they managed to hit the first few lights on the way to Shane's condo, too. The sick doctor kept his head down, but it was a losing battle. Shortly after the second light he sat bolt upright in a panic, looking green and clammy.

"I need you to pull over!" he moaned, arms crushing around his middle as he swallowed convulsively.

Molly had been expecting this and had been driving in the right lane. Before the words had totally left his mouth, she was yanking the car to the side and immediately squealed to a stop. Shane leapt out before the wheels were still and barely had time to fall to his knees before he began heaving, his stomach trying to purge every last bite he'd eaten over the past day or two. 

Molly didn't watch, covering her ears and controlling her breathing. ("In through the nose, out through the mouth.") Shane needed her, so she needed to stay calm, and sympathy puking wasn't going to help anyone. 

Many endless minutes later, he dejectedly climbed back into the car, looking no better and still holding his stomach. Molly wordlessly handed him a water bottle. He rinsed out his mouth and spit several times before taking a few tiny swallows. 

"Good to go?" Molly asked quietly. 

"Yeah," he sighed, letting his head fall back against the seat and closing his eyes, more pale and clammy than ever. "I just wanna get home." The sound of his thick swallowing and his grumbling stomach were loud in the quiet car. 

"We'll get you there," Molly reassured him, putting the car into drive. 

Shane had very little respite. Not five minutes had passed before he put his head between his knees again with a sick whimper. Thankfully the condo was only a few more miles away. However, Molly had no more put the car in park outside his door when he shot up with a strangled noise of alarm.

"I'm gonna hurl," he moaned, dashing to unlock the front door and sprinting to the bathroom to pray to the porcelain gods once more. 

Shane spent the rest of that day on the bathroom floor, vomiting at least every hour. Molly, for her part, felt very useless. Now that the worst had happened, her anxiety had all but disappeared. Her boyfriend was very sick, and all she wanted was to help him somehow, but there wasn't much to be done. She made a quick run to the store for stomach flu supplies, primarily Pedialyte and Gatorade, but after that she simply hung around and tried to keep him company. She wasn't about to leave him alone in this state, after all. 

She did make one miscalculation, though, in trying to care for him. There was a soup and sandwich place just down the road that Shane frequented. He adored their chicken and rice soup, and believed it to be the best cure-all for everything from headaches to the sniffles. As soon as it was clear Shane was down for the count, Molly fetched him a quart of soup to go from the deli. She brought it to the bathroom eagerly. 

"Shane, I got you something I think you'll like!" she said, opening the container.

Shane lifted his head from the rim of the toilet, leaving a little trail of drool behind, and sluggishly turned to look at her, sweat-soaked and pale, an arm held loosely over his abdomen. "Soup?" he said warily.

"Yeah, your chicken and rice!"

Shane leaned forward to get a closer look, but the steam reached his face about then. Molly saw his lips go pale and the arm over his stomach tightened immediately as he broke out into a fresh sweat. He spun around and began to dry heave over the toilet yet again. 

Molly quickly closed the carton, going pale herself at such a violent reaction to a benign smell. She quickly took the food far away, putting it in the fridge for him to find when he was ready and cursing her foolishness. 

And so, the day passed. Molly settled in to stay the night, still unwilling to leave Shane, though he didn't seem to want her hanging around the bathroom much. Shane was usually very tactile when he wasn't feeling well, but apparently that changed when he was puking, which was understandable. She was thankful the next day was her day off as she didn't expect to get the best sleep, nor would it have been wise to go in after being surrounded by stomach flu germs for hours. However, she was determined to be here if and when he needed her. She took over the bedroom and master bath while poor Shane had the bigger main bathroom to himself. She stayed up late, hoping he would start to feel better, but she waited for naught. 

Around midnight she was ready to sleep, so she went to check on him once more and bring him some Gatorade. When she walked in, he was lying on the floor cradling his aching stomach. He turned his head to meet her eyes with his own sickly gaze. She clucked sympathetically, kneeling beside him to press a kiss to his forehead. He moved away from her weakly.

"How are you holding up?" she asked. "Any better?"

"No," he croaked. "It's not over yet. I still feel like I could hurl any second."

"You poor thing. Anything I can do? Do you need a pillow or a blanket?"

"Still no. Just want you to stay away from here for now. I don't want to puke on you or pass this on. Either option is terrible. It's better if you keep your distance."

Molly sighed. "Don't be a martyr. If you need something, I want you to tell me, okay?"

"I will. But I'm okay for now. Go get some sleep."

She sighed again, but he had already turned away, ending the conversation, so she reluctantly went back to the bedroom. She fell asleep not long after that. Her last thought was a desperate hope that Shane would be able to get some rest as well that night.  

The late morning light woke her the next morning, and she lay in bed for a while, deciding what to do. However, the decision was made for her when Shane crept into the room not long after she'd awakened. He had showered and changed and looked marginally better than when she'd seen him last, though no one could ever look well lying in front of the toilet with their head on a towel. 

She sat up quickly, smiling in greeting. He attempted a half-hearted smile in return, though he was clearly exhausted, and still shockingly pale. He staggered into bed, curling up beside her with a pathetic groan. 

"How're you doing, baby?" she murmured, beginning to stroke his hair while subtly checking for a fever. He was warmer than usual, but not alarmingly so.

He shrugged. "I'm alive, I guess. I haven't thrown up for about three hours, so that's good. Just got the shits now. I called into work already, obviously. Drank some Pedialyte. The nausea won't go away though, and my stomach is in knots. I'm still so goddamn bloated, too." He carefully rolled to his back and moved his tee shirt to show her, palming his stomach with a grimace. Indeed the roundness was clearly visible, and without thinking Molly too reached out to rub the bloating, wanting to fix whatever was hurting him. He made a little sound as she began to rub, and her hand froze in hesitation.

"No, please rub it," he mumbled. "Maybe if you do it, it'll help. It doesn't really work when I do it."

"That's what she said," Molly whispered, unable to keep a smirk from her face as she did what he asked. Shane gently smacked her leg and rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless. 

"You're terrible," he said.

"Hey, it made you smile. That's all I was going for. Is this okay?" she asked, gently rocking her hand back and forth over his abused abdomen.

"Mhm," he sighed. "That's perfect. Feels so good." He yawned hugely.

"Did you get any sleep last night?" she asked, continuing the motion.

"Not really. I napped, I guess. Sleeping is the only thing I plan to do today, though. I’m hoping I can sleep this off." 

As he finished speaking, she both heard and felt a cramp ripple through his stomach, making him hunch up in pain with a whimper. He quickly slid out of bed with a mumbled, "Be right back," running to his bathroom. 

Molly flopped back down with a sigh. However, Shane returned surprisingly quickly, still holding his stomach and looking tired as ever, but otherwise no worse, and snuggled in beside her once more.

"Did you throw up again?" she asked.

"No. Just the other end now," he sighed. "I can't believe this still isn't over. The cramps are unreal. It's been the longest day of my life." He grabbed her hand and returned it to his upset stomach, and she felt it churning beneath her palm. She resumed rubbing and he made a sound of pleasure. 

"I also can't believe you're still here," he said, almost too quiet to hear. "Thought you would've run for the hills by now. I wouldn't blame you."

"As long is this isn't over–" she gestured vaguely to his stomach, "–then this isn't over." She gestured to herself in his bed. He smiled again as she resumed stroking his middle.

"I don't deserve you," he mumbled, his eyes growing heavier. 

"Just hush and go to sleep."

"Yes ma'am," he said with a smile. "You'll be here when I wake up?" 

"Absolutely."

"Okay then," he sighed, slipping easily into slumber.

#sicktember 2022 #prompt 24 #shmolly ocs #everyone is hotter with a fever #sickfic #cw emeto #cw vomiting

[min-yunki-agustd]

Day 17 of Sicktober

Scat

Request:

Hello!

I hope you’re doing well! I just watched the “jungkook cut from blood sweat and tears japanese vers.” (idk if you’ve watched it but highly recommend it) and I got this idea for prompt 17.

What if Jungkook is sick with flu or food poisoning and he keeps throwing up, he can’t keep anything down and he’s close to fainting. And the members are very worried. Then at one point they’re having a meal together and kookie runs to the bathroom with yoongi following him because yoongi is super worried about kookie, the stress gets to him and he yells at kookie: “what is wrong with you? why are you so sick” smth like that.

sickie: Jungkook

Caretaker: yoongi

Tw: emeto mention, nausea, V****, mentions and description of scat, etc

Word Count: very short 300

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The table was set. It had a beautiful banquet of food o top of fine silver plates. They toasted, All members held their matching silver cups. "To army!" Jin says. Laughing can be heard from the members as they take a sip of the red wine. Jungkooks lips hesitantly meet the cup. He takes a small sip, It curdles his aching stomach. He shouldn't be here. He should be home resting, but he didn't want to be the only member not at this particular gathering, it was important. He came down with something flu-like a few days ago and it has been playing him ever since. He's had a hard time keeping anything down, non-matter what the members give him. He puts the cup down. Trying to will the wine down. His stomach can't handle the strong bitter alcohol. While the other members continue eating and talking, jungkook gets up and runs out of the room. No one had really paid him any attention. All except yoongi who rises from his seat. Yoongi getting up did stop jin and Namjoon's conversation. namjoon looks yoongi in the eye, and they make eye contact. Yoongi walks away from the table. He catches up to jungkoook and follows him all the way to the bathroom, sounds of struggle could be heard. Yoongi was worried for the younger member he knew he had been sick lately but was unsure just how sick he was. Jungkook hurried to the bathroom. pushing the door open and scrambling to the toilet. His stomach rumbled loudly. his hyung burst behind him. Jungkook didn't care his lower stomach was in too much pain. He bit back the sick feeling as a rush came out of his other end. Jungkook was weeping now, crying out in pain. Yoongi Put his hand on the boy's shoulder and goes down to eye level. "kookie? What's wrong?' yoongi knew what was wrong but he want to see if there was anything he could do for the sickly boy. Jk didn't answer "kook? why are you so sick?" yoongi says watching jk curl in on himself. Jungkook was irrational and very uncomfortable, he pushed his hyung off of him, and yoongi fell back...

_______________________________________________________

It's quite short, if you wanna add what happens next I'll ake part 2. Thanks for requesting!

#sicktober #sick bts #bts sickfic #bts emeto #btssickfic request #tw nausea #tw vomit #tw emeto ment #tw emetophobia #sickjungkook #sickjungkoook

[ethereousdelirious]

I wrote 1k words of PURE self-indulgence

Bl.ack Butl.er G.rell/Wi.ll emeto. All anachronisms are deliberate

Warning: this one is a touch messy lmao. He throws up on her leg, and there are also mentions of saliva. It's not super intensely described, but I'd avoid this fic if bodily fluids squick you out

I'm feeling very "not to me, not if it's you" tonight, apparently

The cursed elevator always took forever. Didn't maintenance know how painful it was to stand in heels? Grell hefted her Death Scythe on her hip and swayed a little, watching the silver teeth gleam in the light.

When the doors opened with an echoing ding, she looked up and her heart leapt: William stepped across the threshold, eyes downcast. His hands hung by his sides, empty— No Death Scythe, no logbook. He looked a bit pale. Grell planted herself in front of him, squinting behind her glasses. "Aren't you even going to say hello?"

Will paused in front of her, swallowing hard. She watched his throat bob with quiet longing. Oh, to draw her tongue down that expanse of soft skin…! "Hello," he said flatly. He swallowed again and took a shallow, shaky breath.

"Where are you off to?" The elevator doors closed somewhere behind Will, not that she cared. He was far more interesting than work or deadlines or whatever else was waiting for her up there. Besides, he was the one she was supposed to report to.

"I'm going home for the day; I'm not feeling well."

That did explain how pale and sweaty he looked. She wasn't just imagining things. "What's the matter?" She tucked the logbook under the arm holding up her Death Scythe and pressed the back of her free hand against his forehead. Warm, but not overwarm. "Do you feel feverish?"

"Don't," he said, pulling back feebly. "I— it's—" He broke off and wrenched forward, coughing lightly, his forehead pushing against her palm.

She looked at him, eyes widening involuntarily. "Do you need to sit down?"

He lifted a shaking hand and tried to push her away again. "P-please…off. I'm going to— Ngh."

His weight shifted forward again until her arm shook with the effort of holding him up. Why was he fighting so hard? "Darling, it's alright, just sit right here." He was shaking now, trembling so violently she had to tense up just to keep her balance.

"Grell," he said in a terrible, strangled voice, and then retched.

She flinched, but it was too late to do anything as something warm (she had an idea exactly what) soaked into her trouser leg, the rest spattering on the marble. Her own fault, really. She froze for a moment, giving Will enough time to stagger back and sink to the ground. The poor dear had gone chalk-white, his eyes closed and lower lip trembling. "Poor love," said Grell, determinedly not looking immediately downward.

"...tried to tell you," Will said, sounding absolutely miserable. His chest rose and fell beneath the layers of his suit, rapid and spastic. 

"I know, darling." Nothing for it. Grell dropped the logbook and her Scythe, shimmied out of her trousers, and tossed everything in the direction of the men's room, wrapping her coat around her legs. Grabbing Will by the bicep, she hauled him into the bathroom and sat him down on one of the chaises. "Stay here."

Will looked at her hard over the tops of his glasses. Still no color in his cheeks, the poor lamb. "What are…you— Hnn-!" He tilted forward and put his head between his knees, blazer taut across his back.

She ran a hand through his pomaded hair. "Just cleaning up. I'll be back for you."

Poor, poor Will. Knowing him, he'd woken up feeling ill and pushed through anyway, because as much as he claimed to hate overtime, he never shirked his duties or left extra work for another Reaper when he could help it. And then she'd had to go and subject him to the humiliation of getting sick in the lobby. At least no one was likely to come along and witness Grell mopping up a puddle in her dripping wet trousers. A small silver lining to their persistent staffing issue.

When she got back to the restroom, she found Will's blazer, glasses, and gloves on the chaise, the man himself braced against a toilet with his face in his hand.

He looked wrecked, eyes half-lidded and unfocused. Saliva dripped from the place where his palm met his mouth, flashing silver in the light.

"Let me take you home," Grell said. Not that she was going to take 'no' for an answer, but it was probably best to give him some warning. He tended to hit when he got startled even when he wasn't angry with her.

"...rescued by Grell Sutcliff," he muttered, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

Her heart jumped and then dropped into her stomach with a splash. So cold-! Even now, when he was too sick to stand up straight. She opened her arms to him. "Come here, love."

He wasn't wearing a coat, which was a problem, because that meant he didn't have his house keys. She had no choice but to walk him to her own house instead, holding him steady when his head lolled and pausing at regular intervals so he could catch his breath (or once, dry-heave in a back alley).

Once inside, she deposited him on the couch and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead once more. Definitely warm. "You're running a bit of a temperature."

Will nodded shortly and blinked once, twice, languidly. "I didn't mean…" He trailed off, pale cheeks turning a spectacular shade of red in no time at all. "—to get sick on you, I didn't intend for that—"

"I know, dear." Grell pulled his blazer off his shoulders and loosened his tie. "My fault; I thought you were going to faint." Will shot to his feet, tie hanging loose around his neck. "Oh?" Not again. Her heart ached for him, the first vestiges of fear burning in her chest. How much of this could he take? She steered him into the bathroom and he dived for the sink, already coughing and retching behind his palm.

She caught him before he could slide to the floor, controlling his descent as well as she could in the cramped space. She maneuvered his head into her lap, heedless of the sweat that soaked into her trousers. They had already been dirtied; what what a bit of perspiration?

"Grell," he moaned into her thigh, fingers twisting up the fibers of her bath mat. That was all he said, just her name, with his knuckles white and face whiter.

"You don't have to be so stoic," she murmured, drawing her fingernails through his hair. His pomade left a waxy, floral-scented residue on her hand.

He curled in on himself and she didn't even bother to sit him up as he dry-heaved again. There was nothing left to come up; it was only hot saliva that soaked into her trousers. "Hurts," he choked.

She leaned forward, unbuttoned his vest and trousers so she could reach his belly, and splayed her palm across the sweat-soaked expanse of his dress shirt. "It's alright, love." Applying slight pressure made him sigh, some of the tension leaving him. She rubbed small circles across his belly, coaxing tight muscles into relaxing where she could.

The scent of illness and sweat hung heavy in the air, even choking out the smell of Will's pomade and her own floral perfume. It didn't matter. She would hold fast for him until he was well again.

[whumpurr]

Hello! I’m obsessed with your story The greatest Show and have one question: If I’m right, you once mentioned that Ringmaster puts rat poison in Rogue’s food. If it’s not too much trouble for you…👉👈 Could you please write a small piece about it? Probably with Apollo comforting Rogue?:3 Sorry if I’m asking for too much, also my English isn’t very good

im so glad u like the story so far!!

big emeto warning for this one!

--

Rogue knew that the Ringmaster hated when they spoke back to him. They were meant to be obedient and quiet, to perform when they were required to and to shut up when they were off stage. Rogue is too preoccupied with the awful, heavy feeling in their gut to remember what it was they had even said.

They'd stayed away from their food for two days, but they had to cave eventually. They knew that there would be something in there, something to get back at them. Today's lunch was broccoli stems and vegetable left overs, and Rogue even rinsed them under the sink in their trailer, but evidently, it was not enough.

They were grateful that the Ringmaster had taken them out of show circulation for the next couple of days. They could hardly move, their stomach and chest aching too much to get out of bed. They clutched their middle with a groan. They were holed up on their bunk, just a few feet away from the ceiling of the trailer.

The space was too small for Apollo to fit. Rogue was glad for it, they didn't want him seeing them in this state: pale, sweating, shivering. They desperately bit back groans, knowing that Apollo would be able to hear it.

Apollo stood next to the bed, just barely too short to peek over the edge of the top bunk and get a glimpse of Rogue. He wasn't trying to go unsees by the acrobat. He was pretty sure that they'd heard him approach, anyways. His large, strong hand held the bar of the ladder.

"Come down?" He asked, almost demurely. He sounded like a kicked puppy, and it only made Rogue hurt more.

"No." Rogue swallowed down the saliva that collected in their mouth. They went over the symptoms of ingesting rat poison in their head. Stomach ache. Headache. Body aches... Check, check, and check. Next up was supposedly organ failure, but as much as the Ringmaster hated them, Rogue was sure that he wouldn't kill them.

It made Apollo tremble to not hear Rogue talk in their roundabout way of speaking.

"Why not?" He asked, giving his best puppy dog eyes, though Rogue was not looking at him. Apollo was far from smart, he knew that, but he could recognize one of the Ringmaster's more common punishments.

"I don't feel well." Rogue said. It took effort for them to not sound angry at Apollo.

"I can help..." He muttered. Rogue's heart hurt. He sounded so, so sad.

"I don't think I can walk right now, Apollo." That one came out more like a growl. Apollo reached up onto the bunk and softly set a warm hand on top of the blanket over Rogue's calf. Rogue was reluctant, but the sighed and pushed the blanket off of their body, ignoring the way their own bones protested. They scooted just low enough for Apollo to gently drag them out of the bed.

They were moved effortlessly by the strongman, who easily picked them up and held them, covering the distance between him and the trailer's bathroom in just a few footsteps.

The bathroom was larger than a usual trailer bathroom, just to accommodate Apollo being able to turn around and move inside it. He set Rogue down on the cool floor next to the toilet, the acrobat immediately being wracked with shivers.

Apollo was gone for just a moment to grab a bottle of water for Rogue, and in the time that he was gone, Rogue had already begun gagging over the toilet, almost as though they'd suddenly been given permission to feel ill.

Rogue barely notices Apollo leave and come back, aside from suddenly realizing the presence of his hand on their back. They gag again, spitting out some acidic bile. Apollo's saying something while he rubs their back, but they don't understand what it is. Their head swims as their body convulses once more, finally bringing up vomit that splashes down into the bowl of the toilet.

The puke until their abdominal muscles ache, and their stomach is finally empty. When they're finally finished, Apollo shuts the toilet and flushes it for them, before helping Rogue's trembling body to sit up on the floor so they can drink some of the bottled water he'd brought. They weakly swallow a few mouthfuls.

They feel better, but still awful. Cold and tired and achey, but they don't have that heavy weight in their gut anymore.

"Let's get you clean," Apollo said, his warm hands sliding under Rogue's shirt. They'd bathed together a handful of times, this was not anything too out of the ordinary, though it had been a while since they had done it last. The last time they'd showered together was when Apollo needed help cleaning dirt out of the marks and cuts left by the Ringmaster's lashings.

Rogue relented easily, allowing Apollo to remove their clothing. It came off piece by piece, their usual garb far simpler and looser than their stage wear. It formed a small bundle on the floor.

While Rogue trusted that Apollo would assist them without judgement, they still wanted to do such a thing independently. They braced one hand against the lid of the toilet and pushed themself up, limbs trembling.

Just as their legs were about to give way, Apollo caught them with one hand looped under their arm, pressed against the front of their chest.

"You'll feel better when you're clean." Apollo said in a rare complete sentence. Just the gentlest of urging was enough to have Rogue giving in, allowing Apollo to maneuver their body. It was an internal battle for Rogue to hand over that power to him, but Apollo was the only good thing Rogue had in their life.

They trust him, Rogue repeated in their head, they trust him.

#apollo and rogue #the greatest show #whump #whumpee #whumpee turned caretaker #my writing #I HAD THIS WRITTEN AND FORGOT TO POST IT IM SORRYYYY #emeto