#sicktember2023

[cuddlepilefics]

Sick and injured

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Minho

Caregivers: Hyunjin and Felix

Prompt @sicktember

No one’s POV.:

Minho groaned as he pushed himself off the floor. “Gosh, you okay?”, Hyunjin gasped as he knelt next to the older. Though Minho nodded, his eyes seemed a little out of focus and the motion sent his head spinning. Seeing his hyung try to get up, Felix denied: “Take it easy for a moment.” To keep Minho from getting up, the Aussie rested his hand on the other’s shoulder, making him flinch. Felix’ brows furrowed with worry as his touch had been light. “It’s okay”, Minho panted, squeezing his eyes shut, “It’s okay, probably bruised my shoulder or something.” – “What about your head”, Hyunjin inquired, brushing a few sweaty strands of hair out of his hyung’s face, “Woah, you’re burning, hyung.” Sighing, Minho laid back on the floor and drew a shaky breath.

He had barely gotten any sleep the previous night. Coming down with a cold, Minho had had a hard time breathing through his nose, which made it incredibly difficult for him to fall asleep. He had probably already been running a fever, thinking back to how restless he had felt all night. The congestion in his sinuses had been messing with his balance all day and combined with the fever, he had been tripping himself frequently. Minho was honestly surprised that his fellow dance-liners had only noticed it now. He hadn’t been himself at all today and since they were the only ones there, he would’ve expected to be called out for his clumsiness immediately.

“I’m kinda sick but no, I didn’t hit my head”, Minho breathed, keeping his eyes closed to avoid the ceiling light aggravating his headache, “Only fell on my shoulder and it feels pretty sore but I’m not sure there’s much damage aside from a bruise.” – Kinda sick means?”, Hyunjin pressed, studying his hyung more closely while Felix got to his feet to collect the other’s water bottle. Lifting his left hand to rub at his nose, Minho sniffled: “Wasn’t much more than a runny nose and headache. I’m pretty stuffed up and it’s messing with my balance a bit.” – “Well, dancing most certainly didn’t help”, Felix sighed as he uncapped his hyung’s water bottle, “Your fever seems to be pretty high now. Do you think you can sit up to have some water?” Minho nodded and sat up with a grimace. His shoulder really did hurt now.

Accepting the bottle from his dongsaeng, Minho downed a few sips and shuddered as goosebumps spread down his arms. Felix took the bottle and screwed on the lid before holding it to the other’s forehead. It eased Minho’s headache some but he was already starting to shiver. “How’s your shoulder? I think we should get you back to the dorm to rest if your shoulder isn’t too bad”, Hyunjin asked softly, afraid they’d have to take the older to the hospital to get his injury looked at.

Considering his entire body ached already and his shoulder wasn’t significantly worse, Minho didn’t think his shoulder was seriously hurt, so they agreed to head back to their dorms. He had intended to take a hot shower to soothe the chills but was growing increasingly stiff and the task just sounded way too exhausting. Most movements of his right arm sent a sharp pain through his shoulder, so Minho slipped his right hand into the pocket of his hoodie to try and keep it as still as possible. Felix had linked his arm with Minho’s left afraid the older would fall again with how badly his balance was lacking. He felt Minho stiffen next to him as his breath hitched. “You okay, hyung?”, the Aussie asked worriedly, letting go of the other’s arm. The older gave a quick nod before bringing his hand up to his face, catching two itchy sneezes. His eyes welled up with tears as his face contorted in pain. Running his wrist under his nose, Minho sniffled: “M-my shoulder really didn’t like that.”

Minho had gone straight to his room to rest, foregoing the shower he had so been looking forward to earlier that day. Most of the members still had schedule but Hyunjin and Felix had decided to stay with him. After checking Minho’s shoulder for bruises, Felix helped the older try to get comfortable. There was no bruise to be seen yet but with how stiff he seemed, it had to hurt a lot. “Do you want me to get you an icepack?”, Felix asked once they had sorted his hyung’s pillows in a way that would support his shoulder just right. Tiredly relaxing into the soft material beneath him, Minho breathed: “I dunno. Feel cold enough already. Ugh, huh- ndo… I-I n-need to- need to s-snee-“ Panicking, the dancer scrubbed at his nose. Minho tried to keep his breath from hitching, fearing the pain that would inevitably come with sneezing. He was stressing so bad, he barely felt the two small hands on his arm and shoulder. “It’s okay, hyung. I got you”, Felix hummed, bracing his friend’s arm. The Aussie felt the muscles tense under his fingers as Minho stifled two forceful sneezes. Shakily releasing a breath, the older admitted: “That didn’t hurt as bad as I thought it would. Thanks, Lix.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to get that looked at?”, Hyunjin asked from the doorway, “How are you going to get any rest like this?” Defeatedly dropping his head onto his pillow, Minho sighed: “I know. I just- I feel like I pulled a muscle with the way I fell on it and there’s nothing a doctor can really do about it but tell me to give it time to heal. A trip to the hospital just sounds way to exhausting just to get advice that I already know.” – “True”, the younger agreed, chewing his lip, “Uhm, I could make you some soup. You know, so you can take painkillers after eating a bit.” They were dancers and each of them had pulled muscles on numerous occasions, so if Minho said that was what was going on with his shoulder, chances were high that he was right about it. Hyunjin just wished there was more they could do to help their hyung. “That sounds really nice actually”, Minho mumbled, “I don’t really have an appetite and my throat’s scratchy but it’d be awesome to take something for the pain. Might bring the fever down too.” The younger nodded before making his way to the kitchen to prepare his hyung some food.

Felix promised Minho he’d be right back for cuddles but quickly rushed to the bathroom to get a cold washcloth. “Let me put that on your forehead”, the Aussie muttered, brushing the hair out of Minho’s face, “That should help with the fever and headache till you’re able to take some medicine.” With Felix running his fingers though his hair and the cold cloth on his forehead soothing the headache, Minho soon found himself growing drowsy. His body wrecked by the sleepless night and hours of dancing before. Whenever Minho’s breathing would waver, Felix hands wandered to his shoulder, ready to brace it so it wouldn’t get jerked if the older had to sneeze.

By the time Hyunjin joined them with a steaming bowl of soup, Minho was close to drifting off. Everything felt fuzzy and he struggled to wake himself back up to eat something. Only when he had to sneeze and his shoulder tensed despite Felix’ support, did the pain bring him back to focus. It was frustrating having to sit back up after taking so long to find a comfortable position but the promise of medicine and a nap afterwards made it bearable. Minho realized just how lucky he had been to have fallen onto his right arm. Sure, he had learned to eat with his right hand too but with the fever making him clumsy, it sure would’ve been difficult to feed himself. “Thanks”, Minho whispered as he accepted the spoon. Hyunjin held the bowl for him while Felix went to trade the washcloth for medicine and also retrieved a small tub of ointment.

“Here’s your medicine and if you stay like this for a moment, I’ll rub some ointment on your shoulder”, Felix hummed as he handed his hyung the pills. Minho quickly rinsed them down with a few sips of water and leant into Hyunjin’s side for support while Felix dabbed the ointment onto his shoulder. Lightly grazing the other’s skin with his fingers, Felix commented: “There’s still no bruise, which is good but if my touch hurts anywhere, please let me know.” The older gave a soft hum and closed his eyes. Trusting his dongsaeng fully, Minho was able to relax and it was easy to see how the tension melted away. Well, anywhere but in his shoulder, which remained still at his side. Felix’ hands were gentle and it didn’t necessarily but there were a few spots that felt overly sore and sensitive. Seeing the older wince, Felix reduced the pressure and lightly brushed his fingertips over the spot in hopes of easing the discomfort.

Confused when Hyunjin nodded at him, Felix looked at Minho’s face and had to suppress a giggle. The older had fallen asleep against Hyunjin’s side, his face peaceful. Wanting their hyung to get as much rest as possible, the two decided to lay him down. Felix carefully guided Minho’s arm, so it wouldn’t get twisted again while Hyunjin eased him down on the pillows. “I’ll fetch an icepack for his head”, the Aussie announced, leaving it to Hyunjin to tuck Minho in. The dorm was quiet aside from the occasional stuffy snore and Felix quickly shot their maknaes a text to be quiet when they got home, so they wouldn’t wake Minho, who obviously needed that rest dearly.

Minho had woken up for a moment when Hyunjin tucked the blanket around his shoulder, glancing up at his dongsaeng with a feverish gloss in his eyes. “You can go back to sleep, hyung”, the younger whispered, “We’ll either be in Felix’ or the living room if you need anything.” Accepting the icepack from Felix, Hyunjin carefully draped it across Minho’s forehead before drawing the blinds.

Not wanting to disturb their hyung, Hyunjin and Felix settled on the Aussie’s bed and watched a drama together. Their phones buzzed with messages from their group chat. The members were telling Minho to feel better while Chan announced 3racha would be bringing home takeout for dinner, so they could eat together at the dorm Minho shared with the maknae-line. Everything would be taken care of and there’d be more than enough people to help Minho out shoulder he need anything or change his mind about seeing a doctor.

Luckily, he did manage to sleep for the entire three hours before their groupmates returned from their schedules. It was only after dinner that Minho shyly approached Felix. He had been holding back his sneezes all evening, afraid of hurting himself but the tickle was slowly growing unbearable. “L-Lix?”, Minho mumbled quietly, “I k-kinda- I kinda need your… your help.” The younger looked at him, head tilted curiously as his hyung blushed. Motioning to his face, Minho scrunched up his nose and whispered: “’s so itchy.” Felix finally got the hint and took Minho’s left hand, guiding him to the bathroom. “Here, sit”, the Aussie directed, pulling a few tissues from the box. Pressing the tissues into Minho’s hand, he gently felt around the other’s shoulder before tightening his grip to hold it securely. Minho doubted he could feel anymore embarrassed than he did, drawing a shaking breath through his nose. Sniffling, he tried to trigger the sneeze he had been fighting all evening but by now it was stuck.

Minho lightly traced the edge of a tissue against his septum, making his breath hitch. A soft whimper escaped his lips before he was thrown into an itchy sneezing fit. “Bless”, Felix smiled sympathetically, “You done?” Urgently shaking his head, Minho caught two more sneezes. “Ndow I’b done”, he rasped behind his tissues, ready to blow his nose as soon as Felix let go of him. Tossing the tissues into the trash, Minho went to wash his hands and sighed in relief: “Thanks Lix, those were really bothering me.”

#skz #stray kids #sickfic #fanfiction #sick #fanfic #fluff #comfort #snz #sicktember2023 #sicktember 2023 #minlix #hyunlix #hyunho

[rainisawriter]

Sick for You (Ryu) {Sicktember 2023}

━━━━━━༻☔༺━━━━━━

Genre: Fluff, slice of life, angst, comfort, domestic, comedy, romance

Word Count: 8,564

Pairing: First Person x Ryu

World: The Rampage

A/N: Okay, let me say that this is 100 million percent self-indulgent because I am a certified Ryu simp. I would die for this man, okay. This also took like a week to write lmao and it was written for @sicktember 2023. I wasn’t originally gonna do anything for this because of Flufftober but then this idea hit me like a freight train c: Also shout out to Kels (@babyboybinbin), Dia (@sieunkinnie) and Sweet (@xsweetelegantdisasterx) for letting me abuse them in this fic~ I regret nothing ò.ó)

Prompts (in order): #11 -Beginner’s Guide to Faking Sick / #18 – “Wear your coat, you’ll catch a cold.” / #4 – Hiding An Illness / Alt #3 – Pounding Headache / #23 – Coughing Fit / #16 – Consulting the Internet/Web MD / #19 – Curled Up With A Pet / #8 – Persistent Fever / Alt #4 – Forehead Kisses / #12 – Home Remedy/Old Wives Tale / #21 – “But if you stay, you’ll get sick too.” / #24 – “Did you just sneeze?” / #3 – “What happened to your phenomenal immune system?” / Alt #1 – “I could really use a hug right about now.”

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Light streamed through the curtains, landing conveniently across my eyes and bringing me from my sleep. I looked at the clock through blurry eyes, realizing that I needed to get up soon for work but I really didn’t want to. My bed was so comfy and the body wrapped around my own was warm. Why would I ever want to –

Wait a damn minute… I blinked dumbly at the wall for a moment. Why is there a body in my bed? I turned slowly so as not to disturb them, a smile instantly coming to my face when I realized who it was.

Ryu was sleeping peacefully behind me, strands of hair falling across his face. He was already a gorgeous man but he looked like a damn angel when he was sleeping so peacefully. I slowly reached forward, tucking the hair behind his ear. He stirred, gorgeous brown eyes meeting mine.

“Morning,” he mumbled, stretching out his long body.

“When did you get here?” I wondered, propping my cheek up against my hand. “I thought you were on tour for another three days.”

“We had to end it early because of the bad weather.”

“You shoulda woke me up.”

He hummed, fingers curling around the hem of my shirt. “You looked too cute. I didn’t want to bother you.”

I ignore the fluttering of my heart and the warming of my cheeks, leaning down to claim his lips. “Babe, you could never bother me.”

He gave me a goofy grin, eyes lighting up. “You have to be at work soon, right?”

All thoughts of work had gone out the window when I realized he was in bed with me. I rarely got to see him because of his hectic schedule and there was no way I was going to work. 

I forced myself up, grabbing my phone off the bedside table and bringing up Google. Ryu propped himself up on his elbow, looking curiously at my phone screen.

His brow furrowed as he read the words of the article I had clicked on. “‘A beginners guide to faking sick.’ You’re gonna lie to your boss?”

“No… I’m just gonna bend the truth a little,” I defended, trying to ignore the stern look he sent me. “Is it so wrong to want to spend time with my beautiful boyfriend, hm?”

He fought back against the smile trying to overtake his lips, still trying to appear stern but I knew I had broken him. It was my special ability at this point. “Fine, but you have to make it up to him later, okay?”

“I’ll bring him donuts or something.”

Ryu laughed, shaking his head before climbing over me to get off the bed. He started to leave the room but paused as if unsure. “Do you want me to make you breakfast?”

I wasn’t sure why, but he was always cautious when it came to cooking. It’s like he wants to, but he just doesn’t have the confidence in himself which breaks my heart. I offered him a playful grin. “Well, the last time I cooked something that wasn’t instant ramen, I set the kitchen on fire, so…”

He paled as the memory came flooding back to him. “Ah… I’ll cook, then.”

“Sounds like a good idea.” I followed him into the tiny kitchen, settling down at the table with my phone. “I love your cooking. Your food always tastes so good.”

“Really?” He glanced at me with a shy smile and I nodded.

“Yes, really. If I could cook like you, I wouldn’t be a Fire hazard.”

He laughed, pulling the eggs out of the fridge. “Just don’t attempt it when I’m not here, okay?”

“Okay~” I promised, pulling up my boss’s contact. I took a deep breath, clearing my throat as I pressed it to my ear. I hoped it would go to his voice-mail, but no such luck. 

“Hello? Takanori speaking.“

“Hey, boss.” I tried to lower my voice and sound as if I was dying, but judging from the look Ryu was giving me, it wasn’t working as intended. “I, uh… I can’t come in… today…”

“Oh? Are you okay? You sound terrible.“

“Yeah, I -” I faked a few coughs and Ryu sent me another stern look, clearly not approving of the lie. “- I’m not feeling too hot.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Get some rest and –“

There was a sudden loud clang from the kitchen. Ryu had dropped the metal spatula on the floor. ‘Sorry,’ he mouthed, sending me an apologetic and guilty look.

My boss called out my name, sounding worried. “What was that noise? Is everything okay?“

“Yeah!” I replied quickly, forgetting my tone change which I quickly fixed. “Yeah, sorry. I… I dropped my cup…”

“You should be in bed,” he scolded softly. “Don’t worry about anything. I can get Dia to cover your shift.“

“Thanks, boss.”

“Take care.”

I hung up the phone, releasing a relieved sigh as I sat back in my chair. “Man, acting is hard. I don’t know how you do it.”

“A lot of practice,” he hummed, breaking the eggs into a bowl. 

I watched him for a moment, admiring how careful he was with each action. “What should we do today? A new store opened up a few blocks away. Looks interesting from the outside.”

“Is that a smart idea? What if your boss sees you?”

“He works in an office building on the other side of town and he’s a workaholic so he stays way later than everyone else. The chance of him seeing me is,” I formed a circle with my hand. “Zero percent.”

“Famous last words,” he teased.

“For you,” I came up behind him, arms around his waist and face buried in the back of his shirt. “It’s worth the risk.”

His hand found mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. It was something he did to show thanks when words failed him.

After breakfast, we started to get ready to head out.

Ryu checked his phone before glancing at me. “It’s supposed to rain and the temperature is going to drop. Wear your coat, you’ll catch a cold.”

“Don’t worry so much, you know I love the cold,” I replied, shoving my feet into my boots.

“Loving the cold doesn’t make you immune to it.”

“I’ll be fine, I promise.” I held my hand out to him with a reassuring smile and he reluctantly took it, his hand easily dwarfing my own. “Besides, I’ve got you to keep me warm.”

He quickly turned his head but not before I noticed his blush, bringing a grin to my lips. He tugged me out of the apartment, the chilly autumn air nipping at my exposed skin. The sky was covered with gray clouds,  thunder rolling softly in the distance. 

He glanced up and hummed thoughtfully. “We should buy an umbrella first.”

“The convenience store on the corner sells them, I think.” I tugged him in that direction, feeling in high spirits. How could I not be? The love of my life was home, it was nearly October, it was cold out and it was probably going to rain. It was a recipe for pure joy.

The store had an entire rack of umbrellas for sale, including a blue one with lamas printed on it and a teal one with cats printed on it. It took me an embarrassingly long time to choose one while Ryu waited patiently, standing behind me with his arms around my waist and chin on top of my head. It was an easy feat given our height difference.

“If you want, you can buy both,” suggested Ryu softly.

I considered it for a moment. “They’re overpriced already and I don’t need two.”

Ryu chuckled, picking them both up and heading to the front despite my protests. He didn’t hesitate to pay for them both, again, ignoring my protests. I sent him a disapproving look when he held them out to me.

“Don’t be mad,” he pouted. “I like buying things for you. It makes me happy.”

Well, I can’t argue with that. His happiness is my happiness. I clicked my tongue, taking the umbrellas from him. “Thank you, I really do appreciate it.”

“Of course. Should we check out that new store now?”

“Yes, let’s go~!” I grabbed his hand and dragged him from the store, prompting a laugh from him.

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I stifled a yawn, rubbing the back of my neck. We had been out for hours, mostly just walking around and enjoying each other’s company. The shop hadn’t been anything special, though Ryu did find a jacket that he liked.

He threw his arm around my shoulders, rubbing up and down my arm. “Should we head home?”

“Yeah. We can watch a movie if you want.”

“I’d like that. You can choose.”

“Oh?” I sent him a grin and he frowned.

“Am I going to regret that decision?”

“We are so watching The Worst.”

A faint tint came to his cheeks. “We’ve already seen it a hundred times.”

“And I wanna see it a hundred more because my baby is in it and he’s incredibly talented.” I smiled warmly, reaching up to cup his face. He leaned down to make it easier, his warm hand covering my own. “You’re an amazing actor, you know? And an amazing dancer. And a genuinely amazing person in general.”

He shifted nervously, glancing away. 

I knew complimenting him made him feel shy and nervous, but it felt important to me. I needed him to know how important he is, how special. Maybe that makes me selfish, I don’t know. 

I pulled back, releasing my grip on him. “Come on, let’s get home before -“

As if sensing my thoughts, the sky opened up with a loud roar of thunder. Sheets of rain fell on top of us, causing the others on the street to cry out and rush for cover. Ryu grabbed my hand, pulling me under the cover of a nearby Cafe. As badly as I wanted to enjoy the rain, I was more concerned about him. It would be bad if he got sick and couldn’t rejoin the other Rampage members.

“We should get home so you can change,” I murmured, frowning at the water that clung to his hair. I opened the cat umbrella, making sure to hold it high enough so it wasn’t resting against the top of his head.

“You need to change, too,” he pointed out, putting his arm around my shoulder and tugging me against his side to ensure that the umbrella covered us both. The wind picked up, sending a chill down my spine. It took everything I had not to shiver simply because I didn’t want to worry him.

The apartment was chilly, providing little warmth.

“Hurry and get changed,” said Ryu as he shrugged off his jacket.

“You first.”

He sent me a pointed look which I returned. 

“Don’t look at me like that, Ryutaro. Think about the other members if you get sick.” I folded my arms over my chest, watching as he bit his lip. “Go on, I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll be quick.” He pecked my cheek before rushing into the bedroom. Kazu came rushing out when he opened the door, easily slipping through his legs before rushing over to me.

I clicked my tongue, kneeling in front of him. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were in the room.”

He stared at me with his large blue eyes, tail swishing back and forth in annoyance.

“Will a treat make it up to you?”

Mrow~

I chuckled, patting the feline on the head before standing up to enter the kitchen, him hot on my heels. He hopped up onto the chair, waiting patiently as I searched for the treats. Where the hell are they? I tugged open the cabinet, spying them on the top shelf.

Well, shit. I stood on my tiptoes, reaching up but only the tips of my fingers brushed against the plastic container. I tried pushing it closer to the edge but I think I just pushed it farther away.

A chest pressed against my back, his hand appearing beside my own and easily reaching the container. “I’ll feed Kazu. Go get changed.” He pressed another kiss to my cheek before approaching the annoyed feline.

I smiled at him before doing as I was told, changing into a t-shirt, a rampage hoodie, and some pajama pants with little ghosts printed on them. I felt much warmer now, but there was a tickle at the back of my brain. I couldn’t describe it, I just knew I didn’t feel quite as energetic as I had this morning. Then again, it was a long day.

Ryu was sitting on the couch waiting for me, Kazu curled up beside him as he gently brushed his fingers over the feline’s white fur. I settled down on his other side, seeing the movie already pulled up and ready to play. He pulled me against his body, arms wrapped protectively around me.

With a smile, I pressed play on the remote before letting myself melt against him, chest filled with warmth and love.

━━━━━━༻☔༺━━━━━

Over the next couple of days, I started to feel worse and worse. My body felt heavy as if it were made of lead, someone seemed to be endlessly pounding on my skull with a hammer and I barely had the energy to live. Even so, I knew I had to hide it from Ryu because he’s the type who would drop everything for his loved ones.

I refuse to be the reason behind him getting into trouble or, worse, getting fired and losing his dreams. It was hard as hell to pretend to be okay, but I managed by pretending it was a video game. Besides, he leaves tomorrow morning so I can die in peace without disturbing him so long as I make it through the night.

The smell of paella filled the apartment and I swallowed hard, hit by a wave of nausea. Not that it smelled bad or anything, but in my weakened state, I simply wasn’t hungry and I couldn’t trust myself not to throw up if I actually ate something. If that were to happen, Ryu would blame himself for messing it up and I didn’t want that.

On the other hand, telling him I didn’t want to eat would probably make him feel self-conscious and sad. He put in the effort to cook for us despite not having a lot of confidence in doing so, I couldn’t just crush him like that.

I brought my knees to my chest, groaning softly into my knees. Kazu was staring at me from the recliner. I don’t know if he understood my predicament but it felt as if he was judging me for my choices, the little shit. He reminds me of someone else who just so happens to share the same name.

Ryu’s feet padded softly across the wooden floor as he appeared beside the couch. “Dinner’s ready. Do you want me to make you a plate?”

I took a slow, deep breath. ‘Come on, get your shit together. Do it for him.’ Lifting my head, I gave him an apologetic smile. “Actually… I think I might skip dinner tonight.”

He sat beside me with a frown, brow furrowed in worry. “Why? What’s wrong?”

My stomach lurched, a sharp pain shooting through my skull simultaneously and I nearly cursed aloud at my body for conspiring against me. I wrapped my arms tightly around my stomach to try and ease some of the pain I felt. “I’m about to start my period so my stomach is a bit… wonky at the moment.”

“Already? You’re not due to start for another week.”

I shouldn’t have been surprised that he knew that because he was always on top of things like that, always trying to ensure I was comfortable and prepared each month, even when he was away. “Uh… better early than late?”

His face burned at the comment and he brought the back of his hand up to cover it. “Go get some rest.”

“I’m sorry, Ryu.”

“For what?”

“You cooked for nothing… I should have said something sooner.”

“It’s okay,” he replied softly, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “You can eat it when you’re feeling better.”

I wanted to kiss him so badly for being such a sweetheart but I didn’t want him to get sick so I settled for a thankful smile. “Thank you, baby.”

“Of course.”

I waited for him to disappear back into the kitchen before standing up and hobbling my way back to the bedroom, holding onto the wall for support. The room was spinning by the time I made it to bed and I was all too happy to fall face-first onto it, the pillow muffling my groan.

Despite feeling exhausted, I just couldn’t fall asleep. My head was hurting too bad, the painkillers not even touching it. For two hours, I lay there staring at the wall, trying to will myself to succumb to the darkness of sleep but my body refused to obey. When Ryu finally joined me, I pretended I was asleep, urging myself not to move as he slid in behind me, arms wrapped protectively around my body.

I guess that was the missing link because the last thing I remember was him kissing me on the cheek and whispering, I love you, something that he rarely said out loud. 

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I startled awake as a coughing fit grasped me tightly, forcing me to sit up. The room was bright with Ryu nowhere to be found. I glanced at the clock and cursed, realizing that he had already left. I was already late for work, too.

As badly as I wanted to just bail and call in sick again, I knew I couldn’t. This was my karma for lying about being sick in the first place, I knew. With a groan, I threw the covers off of me and immediately started to shiver as the cool air wrapped around me. My head still hurt, my nose stuffy and the room spun when I tried to stand up.

“Shit,” I muttered, sitting back down and squeezing my eyes shut. I waited for my head to stop swimming before standing up again, walking slowly so I didn’t fall. Kazu followed close behind, his big eyes not leaving me once. At least he didn’t seem to be judging me this time. If anything, he looked worried. 

“I’m fine,” I told him, though my voice was hoarse and my throat scratchy. He flicked his ear, eyes narrowing. “Don’t give me that look. I’ll never give you treats again, you little -” My threat was interrupted by a coughing fit, my throat burning.

It took longer than I’d like to admit to get ready for work and, if I’m being completely honest, I don’t remember how I got to work. It felt like I blacked out and when I came to, I was sitting at my desk with a sheet of paper in one hand and a pen in the other.

I felt a familiar tickle at my nose and I scrunched it up on instinct, only making it worse. I tried to hold it back but a loud sneeze ripped from my body, sending the stack of papers flying off the desk. I groaned at the throbbing in my skull, eyes half-lidded. 

“Are you okay?” A hand rested on my shoulder and I slowly lifted my head, seeing my boss frown. “Geez, you look like death.”

“Am okay, boss,” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes. I started to get up to retrieve the papers when the world started to spin violently around me.

“Woah!” He threw his arm out to steady me, slowly lowering me back into my seat. The back of his hand rested against my forehead, his frown deepening. “You’re burning up… wait here a minute, okay?”

I didn’t have the energy to reply, my body slumping forward onto the desk with a groan. Why does everything hurt so bad? Am I dying right now?

“As you can see, she’s not doing so well,” stated my boss as he adjusted his glasses, returning to my side. “Can you take her home? I’ll pay for the Uber.”

“Of course, boss,” replied Dia. “Leave it to me.”

“I’ll call them, then.”

As soon as the car arrived, Dia helped me down to the first floor, allowing me to lean against her even at the risk of catching my cold. At least, I think it’s a cold. Maybe it’s the flu, I don’t know. Either way, she was selfless and I loved her for it.

There was a car parked in front of the building, tinted windows making it impossible to see. I could hear K-pop music blaring from within and I dreaded getting inside with my head hurting as badly as it was.

Dia knocked on the passenger window and it slowly slid down, the driver leaning toward it. She was wearing a strange pink thing on her head, the fabric secured beneath her chin with velcro. On the top was something resembling a tentacle, though it was different. I felt as if I knew what it was, but my feverish brain couldn’t quite place it.

She tilted her head down to peer at us over her sunglasses, yelling to be heard over the loud music pumping through the car. “You Dia?”

“I can’t hear you!” She yelled back.

Shaking her head, the driver flicked the volume dial and repeated the question. 

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Cool, I’m Kelso. Hop in and let’s go for a ride,” she grinned, rubbing her hands together like some kind of anime villain.

Dia sent me a concerned look as she helped me into the backseat, though I wasn’t sure if it was because of my illness or because our driver might be certifiably insane. The cold air of the ac felt good against my heated skin and I sighed softly, resting my head against the glass.

The car was quiet at first, broken only by the soft music playing in the background.

“Hey, you know sharks don’t have any bones?”

“I – huh?” Dia looked at the woman, startled. 

“Yeah and don’t say their teeth, either, because that shit is calcium, not bone.”

“Sure…”

The song changed and Dia gasped. “Oh my god, I love Pentagon!”

“Really? Me too!” She grinned, turning in her seat so that she was half-facing us while still driving down the road. “Who’s your favorite member?”

Dia didn’t seem to notice that our driver was no longer looking at the road despite driving at such a high speed. “I love Jinho.”

“My bias is Wooseok.”

My wide eyes stared forward as cars and buildings zoomed past us. My heart was racing in my chest, and my head seeming to throb in tandem with it. I looked at Dia in horror, trying to get her attention but my voice seemed to have left me. When I turned back to the front, there was a woman relaxing on the hood, not seeming the least bit bothered by the high speed at which we were traveling.

She slowly turned her head, smiling warmly at me when our eyes met, but it quickly fell into a worried frown. “You don’t look so good, hun.” Despite being on the outside of the vehicle, it sounded as if she was talking from right in front of me.

“I…” My voice was scratchy and I ended up coughing a few times before I could speak again. “I think I’m dying…”

She chuckled softly, amusement dancing in her eyes. “You’re not dying. Not yet, anyway.”

“How are you on the hood of the car? How haven’t we crashed yet?” I glanced at Dia to find her still chatting animatedly with Kelso, but they weren’t making a sound. It was as if someone had pressed the mute button on them. “I’m so confused,” I groaned, resting my face in my hands. All I wanted was to be back in Ryu’s arms, but he would be gone for a while.

My heart clenched painfully at the thought, tears stinging at my eyes.

“Don’t cry,” said the woman, her voice soft and comforting. “Everything will be alright, I promise.”

Maybe she was right, but at that moment, it felt like everything was collapsing in on me. 

“Rest,” she ordered.

Warmth spread throughout my body, my eyes growing heavy. I shook my head, trying to keep them open but I wasn’t strong enough. Before I knew it, darkness had claimed me.

━━━━━━༻☔༺━━━━━

I tugged the comforter tighter around my body, feeling as if I was freezing. It wasn’t even cold outside and the AC certainly wasn’t on, yet my body refused to warm up. What in the world is happening to me? I rarely get sick and it usually knocks me on my ass when I finally do but shit. It feels as if I’ve been sick for weeks, though I know it’s only been a few days.

I wasn’t feeling quite as bad as I had been yesterday, so that’s an improvement, I guess. I felt exhausted and barely got two hours of sleep last night, yet sleep seemed to be running away from me.

With a sigh, I rolled over so I could grab my phone off the bedside table. I was hoping to have a message from Ryu to lift my spirits, but he still hadn’t replied to my last message. I knew he was busy but, already feeling so shitty, it hit me harder than it should have.

I pulled up Google, contemplating my next action for a moment before deciding to search for my symptoms. If I knew exactly what I had whether that be the cold, the flu, or something else entirely, then I could take the proper medication and finally recover from this shit. Regular cold meds and painkillers don’t seem to be cutting it.

After inputting all of my symptoms and the time frame into Google, I skimmed through most of the results because my head was still hurting and my vision slightly blurry, but most of the links I clicked all said the same shit – you’re probably going to die.

No fucking shit. Were all gonna die eventually. I groaned in frustration, throwing my phone onto the bedside table. As if disturbed by the sudden noise, Kazu came running into the room, tail straight up in alert.

“I’m still alive,” I grunted. “Barely.”

“Mrow~” He jumped up onto the bed, looking at me expectantly. 

“What?”

“Mrow~“

“I don’t speak cat.”

He blinked at me and I blinked back. After staring at each other for several minutes, he hopped up onto the bed, flopping down against my side. I slowly turned, throwing my arms around him in an attempt to cuddle. I figured he was going to run away because Ryu was the only one who could get away with cuddling him.

He didn’t, though, allowing me to hold him against my chest. I buried my face in his soft fur, wishing that I would stop feeling like the damn walking dead. More than anything, I wished Ryu was here. Maybe I was being clingy but I missed him something terrible, my heart aching.

I heard the front door open, Kazu’s ear flicking to indicate that he heard it, too. Dia appeared at the door of my bedroom a minute later. “Morning. Feeling any better?”

“If by better you mean death then yes.”

She frowned, touching my forehead with her hand. “That fever is being really persistent… I think you should go to the doctor.”

“Doctors are expensive,” I muttered. 

“You’re dating a celebrity, I think you can afford to see a doctor when you’re sick.”

I shook my head, frowning at her. “It’s his money, not mine.”

“You’re supposed to share things in a relationship.”

“Don’t care. I refuse to use his money. Besides, if I ignore it long enough, it’ll give up and go away.”

She sighed deeply, bringing her hand to her face. “Are you hungry?”

My stomach twisted painfully at the thought of food, my nose wrinkling. “No.”

“You have to eat if you want to get better, you know.”

“I ate last night.”

“Half a slice of bed is hardly nutritious.”

“I’m fine, mom.”

“I’m just worried about you,” she frowned. “Have you even told Ryu-san?”

“Of course not!” I replied quickly, scowling at her. “And I’m not going to. As far as he’s concerned, this never happened.”

“Don’t you think he’d want to know?” 

“Of course, he would, but I know him. He’ll obsess over it and worry himself into the ground. He needs to focus on his group, not me. There’s nothing he can do for me so there’s no point telling him.”

She clearly didn’t agree, making me narrow my eyes at her.

“If you tell him, I will steal all your K-pop albums and sell them for one penny outside of Seiyu!”

She gasped dramatically, hands coming up to cover her mouth. “You wouldn’t dare…”

“Try me.”

“Fine,” Dia huffed, putting her hand on her hip. “Do you need anything before I head to work?”

“Can you get me a Dr. Pepper from the fridge?”

Without a word, she left the room, returning a minute later with a bottle of water.

“That’s not Dr. Pepper,” I scowled.

“You shouldn’t be drinking soda while you’re sick. Drink water so you hydrate, not diedrate.”

I scoffed in annoyance, knowing she was right but refusing to admit it.

She set the bottle on the nightstand, giving me a smile. “I’m off, then. Call me if you need me and get some rest. Don’t do anything stupid.”

I watched as she disappeared from the room, listening to the sound of her footsteps fading as she headed for the door. The hinges squeaked when she opened it, squeaking again when she closed it.

I don’t want to rest, I’ve been doing nothing but resting for ages and I’m starting to go stir crazy. I pressed a kiss to the top of Kazu’s head before slowly crawling out of bed, taking a moment to regain my sense of balance. “Kazu, don’t tell Dia.”

He tilted his head back, staring at me with narrowed eyes. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to say he disapproved of my actions or if he just didn’t give enough fucks to tell her even if he could talk.

After making sure Kazu had food in his bowl, I grabbed a Dr. Pepper from the fridge and curled up on the couch to watch some Netflix. I hoped it would distract me from everything or ease my stir craziness, at the very least. Kazu hopped up into the recliner, crossing one paw over the other before resting his head atop them, large blue eyes staring straight at me.

It was only slightly unnerving.

“I’m not just gonna, like, keel over and die ya know,” I scowled at him, earning just a blink in reply. I really wanted to watch The Worst again, but I knew it would only make me long for Ryu more so I chose a funny movie instead. Thank god Deadpool is available in Japan. It’s easily one of my comfort movies and I love Ryan Reynolds so much.

Man, I’d kill to be able to eat some popcorn right now, but the thought of it had my stomach doing painful flips. I scowled, patting my belly. “Relax, ho. I’m not gonna feed you so chill out.”

About halfway through the movie, I felt my eyelids growing heavier but I fought to stay awake. I was tired of sleeping, I just wanted to watch Deadpool and laugh my troubles away! I slapped my cheeks, shaking my head to try and wake myself up and it worked… for about twenty minutes.

Maybe if I just rest my eyes for a few minutes, it’ll help. Yeah, that’s right. I’m just… resting my eyes…

━━━━━━༻☔༺━━━━━

The feeling of being lifted startled me awake, my eyes snapping open and my limbs flailing in panic.

“Calm down, it’s just me.”

I blinked dumbly, slowly lifting my gaze to meet Ryu’s. “You’re not supposed to be here… am I hallucinating again?”

“Again?” He frowned at me, his jaw tense. He didn’t say another word as he carried me to the bedroom, setting me gently down on the bed. “Do not get out of this bed.”

I frowned at him, not used to hearing him sound or look so annoyed. My eyes followed him until he was out of sight and I heard the front door open and close loudly, making me wince. Ryu was always so patient and kind, even when someone was trying to rile him up. He playfully gets mad with his members, but it’s nothing serious.

Seeing him act this way now… I knew I had fucked up royally. Tears stung at my eyes but I blinked them back, sniffling loudly as I reached for a tissue to blow my nose. God, I bet I look like an absolute mess.

I’ve always been self-conscious around him because he’s just so beautiful and I know I don’t deserve him, but my insecurities have, for the most part, stayed hidden in a dark corner of my mind. He made me feel loved and accepted, seeming to crush those negative thoughts every time they tried to crawl out into the light.

Now, though, I was completely overwhelmed. My body was at its limit and it was affecting my mind, as well. I felt weak and pathetic, like a burden on Ryu who had raced home to help me because I couldn’t help myself. Was he going to get into trouble for this? Would he lose his spot on The Rampage? 

He leaned against the doorframe, arms folded over his chest and jaw clenched. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I didn’t want to bother you -“

“Bother me?” He echoed in disbelief. “Do you even consider me your boyfriend?”

“What? Of course, I -“

“You never tell me anything. You’re always hiding your feelings, hiding when you’re sick. Don’t you trust me?” He shook his head, brow furrowed in frustration. “Do you not want to be with me?”

The question was enough to finally break me and send tears rolling down my cheeks. He looked at me with a startled expression, body tense as he pushed away from the doorframe.

I quickly rolled over to face the wall, biting my lip to try and muffle my sobs. I tried so hard to stop crying but, as always, my body refused to obey.

The side of the bed dipped, his warm hand on my back. “Please don’t cry… I’m sorry.”

I was the one who fucked up but he is apologizing? Goddamn it.

“Hey,” he called softly, trying to roll me over to face him but I refused, shaking my head. Instead of forcing me, he slid in behind me until his warm chest was against my back, arms wrapped protectively around me. “It’s okay, darling. I’m right here.”

His words only made me cry harder, fists clenching around the sheets. I was a fucking mess and I hated showing this side of myself to him. He was patient with me, though, whispering comforting words to me and rubbing my arm to try and calm me down. It took a while, but I guess I finally ran out of tears.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice hoarse and throat sore. My eyes felt puffy and there was a wet spot on my pillow from all the tears I had shed. “I… I should have told you, I just… I don’t want to, to ruin your career…”

“That won’t happen,” he assured me, trying to roll me toward him again. This time, I allowed it, not having the strength to fight back. His brown eyes met mine, swimming with love and warmth. He cupped my cheek, thumb brushing away the remnants of my tears. “I thought my heart stopped when Dia called me.”

“I told her not to,” I muttered, focusing my eyes on his necklace, unable to hold his gaze.

“I’m glad she did. You’ve been suffering alone for days,” he frowned, reaching down to press a kiss to my forehead. “You still have a fever.”

I pushed at his chest while simultaneously trying to sink into the mattress. “You’re going to get sick!”

He chuckled, taking my hand and pressing it over his heart. The steady beat was comforting. “I’m not leaving your side until you’re better.”

“But The Rampage -“

“Sends there get well soon wishes. I can’t promise Likiya-san and Zin-san won’t scold you when they see you next,” he smiled, pressing another kiss to my forehead before standing up. He started to leave the room but paused, sending me a stern look. “Don’t you dare move.”

While he was gone, I sat up to grab some tissues to wipe away my tears and blow my nose in an attempt to look a little less like a bog witch. I doubt it helped much, but he didn’t seem to care as he returned with my favorite Halloween mug, steam rising from it.

Ryu sat on the side of the bed, careful not to spill it. “Drink this, it’ll help.”

I tried to sniff the air but I couldn’t smell anything. I eyed it wearily. “What is it?”

“Ginger tea. My lola used to make it for me every time I got sick. She swears by it so she made sure to teach me how to make it.”

I was a picky eater, so trying new things always made me feel weary.  I trust Ryu, though, so I took the mug from him and gave it a careful sip. It filled my body with warmth, tasting slightly spicy. Not like chili pepper spicy but more like… herbal spicy.

“It’s good,” I murmured, closing my eyes as I drank more of it. My throat was already beginning to feel less scratchy and sore.

“I’m guessing you haven’t eaten, either?”

“Define eaten.”

He held back a sigh, running a hand through his hair to compose himself. “I’ll make you some Lugaw.”

“Lu what now?”

“Lugaw,” he repeated with a chuckle. “My lola always told me that it has healing properties and it always made me feel better as a kid. I… don’t know if I can make it correctly, but I’m going to try.”

“I bet it’s going to taste amazing,” I assured him, reaching out for his hand. “You’ll put Gordon Ramsay to shame.”

His cheeks tinted, a goofy smile on his lips, and his eyes lighting up. “Thank you. I’ll do my best.”

When he stood up, I tried to follow only for him to click his tongue.

“No, you need to rest.”

“I’ve done nothing but rest,” I scowled. “I want to watch you cook. It calms me.”

He seemed to consider it for a moment before nodding and holding out his hand to help me up. His arm remained around my body as we headed to the kitchen and he didn’t leave my side until I was safely on the chair. Watching him truly did make me feel calm, along with the beverage that I was drinking. 

I felt a tiny bit better already. Maybe his grandma is really onto something with these home remedies. “How long are you staying?”

He hummed as he cut up more ginger. “I told you, I’m not leaving until you get better.”

“And I told you, the longer you’re around me, the higher the risk of you getting sick. You’re already missing work because of me. If you get sick, you’ll miss even more. What if they fire you?”

“I promise you, that’s not going to happen.” Ryu sent me a reassuring smile but I didn’t feel very reassured at all. “Our managers were very understanding when I told them.”

I slid down in my chair, setting the empty cup on the table. “You could still get sick and spread it to the other members.”

“I won’t get sick.”

“How can you be sure of that?”

“Because I have a phenomenal immune system,” he grinned, making me scoff. 

“What was that you said to me? ‘Famous last words,’ was it?”

“Except I’m not going outside in the winter without a coat only to be caught in the rain.”

I opened my mouth to reply only to scowl, realizing he was right. “Wipe that grin off your face, Ata Ryutaro.”

“Yes, darling,” he chuckled, returning to the task at hand. 

I tried to ignore the fluttering in my chest and the warmth at the tips of my ears when he called me that. I adored it when he called me darling, but it wasn’t something he said often, especially not in public. 

I couldn’t find the smile that came to my lips. I truly was the luckiest human on earth. “Hey, Ryu?”

“Yes?” He paused what he was doing to look at me. “Do you want some more tea?”

I shook my head. “I just wanted to thank you. You really are an amazing boyfriend.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he mumbled, hiding his face from me.

“I love you.”

His eyes met mine, filled with love and warmth. “I love you, too.”

━━━━━━༻☔༺━━━━━

I stretched my arms over my head, smiling as I breathed in the fresh air of the morning. After a couple of days under Ryu’s care, I was nearly back to my old self, though my body was still a bit achy. At least I could breathe properly now and the room didn’t spin when I got up too quickly. 

The time spent with him was a nice bonus, too. I never wanted this to end, but I knew he had to be getting back to work. With one last look at the cloudy sky, I headed back inside to wake up Ryu. Just as I reached the door, I heard a sneeze from the other side followed by a soft groan. 

I pushed the door open with a frown, taking in the appearance of my boyfriend. He still looked tired, his brown eyes lacking their usual luster. He seemed pale, too. “Babe, you okay?”

He smiled at me but it was obviously forced. “I’m fine.”

“You just sneezed.”

He seemed embarrassed that I had heard him. Before he could reply, though, another sneeze ripped from him, followed by a groan as he clutched his head. Rather than deny the obvious, he just pouted at me.

I hummed, approaching the bed so I could take his face between my hands. I could feel how warm he was before my forehead even met his. “You’ve got a fever.”

His fingers curled around my wrist, lips brushing against my own when he spoke. “I think I caught your flu…”

“Yeah? What happened to that phenomenal immune system of yours, hm?” I teased softly, brushing the hair from his face.

“You’re really going to tease me when I feel this bad?”

“Sorry, baby,” I chuckled, pressing a kiss to his lips. When I tried to pull away, he chased me with a whine. I chuckled, knowing how clingy and whiny he could get when he was sick. “Well, on the bright side, I get to return the favor and nurse you back to health.”

“‘M sorry,” he mumbled as he laid back down. “Will you stay with me?”

“You don’t even have to ask.” I slid in next to him and he slotted his body against mine, face buried in my neck as his limbs wrapped around me. I hummed softly, running my hands through his hair until his breathing evened out.

Maybe this makes me a bad person, but… I’m kind of happy that he caught my flu. God, I sound like such a bitch thinking that way, especially since I knew he was going to be feeling miserable, but I do love being able to take care of him. Despite being younger than me, he’s always been the caretaker in the relationship, going out of his way to accommodate me and my needs. It feels nice to be able to take care of him for a change, to have him rely on me.

His phone vibrated on the bedside table and I cursed softly, reaching my arm behind me to try and grab it. It was not comfortable at all but his limbs were like chains around my body, holding me in place so I couldn’t really move. I’m not entirely sure how I did it, but I managed to grab a hold of his phone, answering it without much thought so it wouldn’t wake him up.

“Hello?” I spoke softly, not wanting to disturb his sleep.

Zin said my name in surprise. “Hey, how are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling great, actually. Ryu is a really good nurse.”

“That’s good to hear. Why are you whispering, though?”

“He’s asleep and I don’t want to wake him up.”

There was a moment of silence and then a deep sigh on the other end of the line. “He’s sick, isn’t he?”

“Um… kind of?” I replied sheepishly. “I’m really sorry, Zin-san. I tried to get him to leave but you know how stubborn he is…”

Zin chuckled. “Yeah, I know. No need to apologize.”

There was muffled talking in the background before the phone shifted to Likiya. “Hey, little one. You feeling better?”

“I’m doing great, Likiya-chan, but Ryu caught my flu, I think.”

“I figured he would,” he replied with a laugh. “Listen, we’ll be there soon but don’t tell Ryu.”

“Eh?” I replied louder than intended, making Ryu mumble and squeeze himself closer to me. “You’re coming here? What for?”

“We wanted to check on you and cheer you up, but I suppose we’ll be doing that for Ryu now.”

“But all of you are going to get sick, too,” I frowned.

“Don’t worry about us, little one, just worry about taking care of our Ryu. See you soon.”

I blinked dumbly as the sound of the dial tone filled my ear. Do these boys have no self-preservation at all? They’re skipping work to come here and risking getting sick in the process, thus keeping them out of work even longer. I sighed deeply, setting the phone down on the bed.

Something tells me this isn’t going to end well. The Rampage is known for having only one brain cell combined and stuffing them all into our small apartment with a sick Ryu and an introverted Kazu? What the hell could possibly go wrong?

━━━━━━༻☔༺━━━━━

I stepped outside, hands stuffed into the pocket of Ryu’s hoodie as I glanced around. Likiya had messaged me a few minutes ago saying that they were about ten minutes away from the apartment so I figured I’d come out and meet them. A few of my neighbors aren’t very fond of strangers in the building and these guys would no doubt be loud on their way up. I also didn’t have much faith that they wouldn’t go to the wrong apartment despite knowing where we lived.

A familiar-looking black car pulled up to the curb and Dia stepped out of the back, looking annoyed. The driver was Kelso again and she, too, looked annoyed as she jumped out of the car, eyes narrowed at Dia. She was still wearing that ridiculous hat which I now realized was Buu from the Dragonball series.

“Go away!” Dia scowled, folding her arms over her chest. “I already told you, I’m not buying your fake CDs!”

“How dare you! They’re not fake, they’re economic,” defended Kelso with a huff.

“They’re fake and you should be in jail!”

“Jokes on you, I was just released from jail!”

I watched the two of them argue back and forth, unsure of how to proceed. Do I try to break it up? That sounded like more effort than I was willing to spare, especially since I needed to be at full battery to deal with the storm that is the Rampage.

Speak of the devil…

Two tan vans pulled up to the curb behind the black car. The sliding door on the first van opened up before it even came to a stop, Shohei jumped out of the vehicle with a grin as he cried out my name. I had no time to prepare myself before his body barreled into my own, arms so tight around me that it knocked the air from my lungs.

“Nee-chan~” he sang with a grin. “I missed you~”

Likiya rushed over with a scowl. “Put her down, Shohei! She just recovered from being really sick!”

He pouted at being scolded before doing as he was told, putting me back on the ground.

I sucked in some air, resisting the urge to cough as I patted his shoulder. “Good to see you, too, Sho-chan.”

“How are you?” asked Likiya softly, holding out his arms for a hug. It was much softer than the one Shohei had given.

“I’m doing well. Wish I could say the same for Ryu.”

“Don’t worry, he’ll be better in no time,” he reassured me, giving me a gentle squeeze before pulling away.

I realized the arguing had stopped and I glanced over at the two women, both of whom were staring at the men with wide eyes. Dia’s eyes were trained on Makoto while Kelso’s were trained on Takuma. The scene behind them changed to pink, sparkles and roses appearing around their heads as hearts appeared in their eyes.

Shit, am I hallucinating again? I quickly shook my head, rubbing at my eyes before looking at them again. They were just standing there staring at the men, no sparkles in sight.

“You okay?” Kazuma patted my arm, tilting his head to the side. Hokuto was beside him, sending me a concerned look.

“Yeah… yeah, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” frowned Hokuto, reaching forward to feel my forehead. “You’re not warm, that’s good.”

“Sorry, I just zoned out, that’s all. Why don’t we all go inside? It’s getting colder out here.”

Shohei and Kenta didn’t need to be told twice as they darted into the building, followed by Zin who was trying to wrangle them in. The rest slowly filtered inside and I noticed the two girls following as if being pulled by an invisible stream tied to their bias.

Rui was the last one outside, getting a bag from the van. As he turned toward me, I noticed the woman from the car sitting on top of the van. Just like the other two, there were sparkles and roses around her head as she stared at Rui, hearts in her eyes.

“So dreamy~” she sighed, grinning like a fool.

Rui blinked, looking at me. “Did you say something, nee-san?”

“You heard that, too?”

“Yes.”

My eyes widened at the woman. Was she not a hallucination, after all? I quickly waved at him. “Come on, Rui, let’s get inside! I think the cold is getting to our brains.”

The woman looked up, winking at me before disappearing before my eyes.

━━━━━━༻☔༺━━━━━━

#sicktember #sicktember2023 #the rampage #fanfiction #the rampage fanfiction #the rampage ryu #creative writing #Rains ficography

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Hopelessly Bad at Self Care

Sicktember Day 1: "Hopelessly Bad at Self Care"

Stranger Things: Steve Harrington/ Eddie Munson

Words: 500 | Rating: G | CW: eye pain

@sicktember | divider art by @saradika

Summary: Steve’s eyes hurt from reading on the computer so Eddie finds a perfect solution.

Find me on Ao3!

Steve sat on the couch with his laptop, struggling to make sense of the dancing words of the document in front of him as Eddie sat next to him. Steve worked in admissions and was put in charge of reading and editing a few new grants for the next year. The formal language of grants was new to him, and he could feel the throbbing headache that came with reading such small print on the computer. 

Even with his attempts to increase the font and lower the brightness, fifty-five pages of print was becoming a little too much for his eyes. Rubbing only made the pain worse and the blue light glasses hadn’t helped enough to warrant wearing them.

His eyes were burning like twin wildfires as he squinted. Giving up, Steve sat back with a groan of annoyance. He’d have to just wake up early to finish it.

“You want me to put in those dry eye drops we got?” Eddie asked.

Steve turned to glance at him. 

Eddie wore his usual sweatpants and tee, and the headset for the game he was playing was balanced around his neck. He sat in an easy folded seat with the Switch controller balanced on his knee. His paused game of Mario Kart blinked on their TV. 

“Yeah, but I forgot them at my desk.” Steve blinked hard and squeezed his eyes shut before opening them, hoping the tingling pain would subside, but the burning continued.

Eddie closed out of his game and set the controller aside to turn to Steve. “I’ll pick some up tomorrow so there’s some at the house. But c’mere lemme see ‘em?” 

Steve scooted closer to Eddie. Slowly but surely, Steve pried his eyes open and winced at the way they seemed to sizzle in protest. He blinked, and tried to keep them open so Eddie could inspect them.

“Shit, Stevie, they’re an angry red,” Eddie sympathized. “Can I?” Eddie reached for the laptop at Steve’s nod and pulled it onto his lap. “You said you’ve got fifty five pages to go through? And this is just one grant?”

Steve tilted his head back against the couch. “Yeah, something like that.”

“I can read it to you,” Eddie suggested, as he scrolled through the document. “Geez, they fit a lot in these. But if you’re able to listen and take notes, I don’t mind reading it.”

Steve shook his head slowly in protest. “Eds, it’s your time off. You should be kicking Dustin’s ass in Mario Kart.”

“Your eyes look like they want to fall out of your skull,” Eddie pressed. “You said you’ve got like, what, another week or so of this?”

“Yeah, meeting’s at the end of next week. And I’ve got three grants to go over.”

Eddie winced, and started reading. 

“Eds…” Steve cracked open one red eye. “You really don’t have to.”

“I want to.” Eddie gave Steve’s knee a squeeze.

So Steve nodded and closed his eyes as Eddie began to read. 

#sicktember2023 #sicktember day 1 #hopelessly bad at self care #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steddie #acasualcrossfade writes #thunderously halo writes #divider art by saradika #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington whump

[zombie-honeymoon]

And now for even more domestic kakuhida from me.

Summary:

It's Hidan's day to take Fuu to school but she isn't feeling well. Without Kakuzu around to help, Hidan consults the internet to determine what she might be sick with. Of course, he gets the absolute worst possible diagnosis.

#kakuhida #kakuzu #hidan #fuu #sicktember2023

[revelationschapter6]

cinnamon and myrrh

Events: Sicktember, Whumptember, Bad Things Happen Bingo

Prompts:

Desperate measures

Head lolling

Coughing fit

Preventative Measures (Not taken)

Side effects/Adverse reaction

Uncooperative Patient

Confused

Disoriented

Hurts to Breathe

Warnings:

implications of depression

This fill is written as a one-shot of my original story, Saudade. You can find my info page for Saudade here.

What context you need to read this is:

In Saudade, the Archangel Raphael Fell during the Rebellion. It was a misunderstanding that spiraled out of control, and he was thrown out by four angels while his partner, the Power Camael, tried to help him.

The angels who didn't Fall were made to forget those who did. They don't remember they ever knew them. As far as they know, all the Fallen were on the fringes of Heaven's society. If they asked around, they might go, "Wait, no one knew a Fallen?" But they Don't Ask Questions.

Raphael worked to gain Camael's trust again, and eventually won it. Camael learned he did, in fact, know Raphael before the Fall by regaining a memory, and convinced Raphael's siblings to hear him out. Now they're trying to figure out WTF to do.

Who, in their right mind, burns myrrh for funsies? Humans, apparently. And in the middle of the holiday season no less, so the smell of it is covered up by the reek of all that damn cinnamon. Raphael really should have learned by now. Whumptember: Desperate measures, head lolling Sicktember: Coughing fit, Preventative Measures (Not Taken), Side Effects/Adverse Reaction, Uncooperative Patient, Confused, Disoriented Bad Things Happen Bingo: hurts to breathe

can be read on AO3 or below the cut

Raphael watched the little blurs that were the light-up battery-powered fish in his fish tank.

When he’d moved into this apartment, he’d thought about getting a cat. But they had such short lifespans compared to his. It just wasn’t worth getting attached. Dogs were the same. Rodents were even worse. It felt like they barely took a breath before dying. It was nearly impossible to find an apartment that would allow a bird, though even they didn’t live terribly long in the span of his life, and he hated turtles.

A hellish animal might have been an option, but he didn’t like any of them. Hellcats, with their too many tails, disturbed him greatly and brought to mind Kitsune, who he didn’t want to think of as he cleaned a litter box. (Their litter boxes had a nasty habit of bursting into flames, besides.) Hellhounds came in every shape and breed of dog, but being around Lilith’s was enough. He didn’t have nearly enough water to keep an ahuizotl, and he already had plenty of nightmares without inviting in a Pesanta.

So, finally, he’d bought a fish tank and some light-up, battery-powered fake fish and been quite happy with them.

Through the poorly insulated walls of his apartment, he could make out general merriment. Carolers on the street, the buzz of countless lights, cheerful voices. Could smell pine from pine trees, burning gingerbread from a few doors down, and tried not to cough at the thickness of cinnamon in the air. It had been strong for days, no matter where he went. Cinnamon brooms lingered on his neighbors’ doorsteps, and it seemed every shop he passed was cluttered with them.

He’d never liked Christmas, not really. Though the Giant Lantern Festival was beautiful, he’d admit that, and he always had fun trying to burn the Gävle Goat. Any Fallen loved Krampusnacht, none more so than Krampus himself. But Christmas was a time for those with friends and family. He might have called Maalik a friend once, but he was long dead. Lilith and Lethe, perhaps, but they were busy doing their own things, and they saw each other only every few decades, besides. He still wasn’t sure if he could call Samyaza a friend.

And he certainly had no family.

He had Camael back, somewhat. But Camael, though he knew now, didn’t remember, surely wasn’t willing to spend a holiday with him. And Gabriel and Michael still looked half-ready to run him through if he sneezed wrong, though they knew too.

So he hadn’t even bothered to ask.

Raphael sighed, trying to tune out the music his neighbors were listening to: the one above him was listening to some caterwauling cover of All I Want for Christmas is You, the one below him Last Christmas, to the right a pop cover of Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas (why?), and to the left Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer (again, why?). He could make out the neighbors further down the hall, but it all clashed together into raucous noise.

He rolled over, stretching out on his bed. It smelled far better than the cloying cinnamon. Though lingering sulfur and rain-dampened dirt weren’t exactly appealing either.

It wasn’t Christmas Day or Eve. At least, he didn’t think so.

He couldn’t hear wrapping paper tearing—well, that was a lie. The gender-optional tenant three doors down was wrapping gifts it sounded like—or smell ham or turkey or baking cookies.

Then again, he’d slept for quite a while, so he couldn’t be certain. He’d only gotten up long enough to duck into the corner store and wolf down the taquitos whose wrappers lay crumpled on his nightstand.

Raphael clutched his pillow, curling up. Hell, but he was tired. He’d slept the better part of the last two days, and still, he was exhausted.

So what was the harm in sleeping? It wasn’t as if he’d miss anything.

His phone rang, and he grumbled. Blearily, he thought that he needed to take it into the store to get it looked at because the voice announcing the caller was so muffled that he couldn’t make out what it said. Raphael reached for it, fumbling, but it was out of his reach, and he was still so tired.

If it was important, whoever it was could leave a voicemail.

Someone banged on his door, and he groaned. Did they have to be so loud? He could hear the door rattling in the frame. It was probably someone looking for the man down the hall. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d had someone knock on his door by mistake, so he didn’t feel sorry that he didn’t even open his eyes.

There were voices, and he felt he should wake up. Because sleeping while someone was near him was never a good thing, barring a few people. And those weren’t Lethe or Lilith’s voices. He could tell. But his bed was so warm, the blankets so soft and comfortable, so surely he could sleep a few minutes more?

Besides, those voices felt safe. What was the harm?

Hands—cold hands, familiar, rough hands, though who they belonged to escaped him at the moment—grabbed and shook him. He wanted to tell them to let him sleep—even with their hands on him, he felt leaden—but his voice wilted and died in his throat before he could make a sound.

The voice called his name again, and two more hands, rougher and larger, joined the first.

His name was called again, this time by a voice deeper than the one before, and the hands became so rough that his head rolled on his pillow. It was irritating, and he tried again to tell them to leave him be. But his voice died, and his eyelids were so heavy that he couldn’t even glare at them to go away. His breath hitched, as sluggish as the rest of him, and struggled in his throat.

Raphael felt that should have worried him, but he was too comfortable and tired to care.

The hands went away, and he was grateful. Now, surely they’d leave him alone? Whatever they needed couldn’t be that important. It could wait.

Surely, they’d finally let him sleep.

A pair of hands slid under him, separating his head from his pillow and awkwardly gripping the underside of his knees. He shivered as he was torn away from the warmth of his blankets, the cold biting into him worse than the blizzards of Cocytus. A complaint started, then died, in his throat. His head lolled back, his neck arched painfully, and while one arm had been scooped up so it rested on his stomach, the other dangled uncomfortably.

The person carrying him moved jerkily, jolting him violently, even as they rubbed their thumbs along his skin as if to try to warm him. They came to an abrupt stop, and he tried to open his eyes. Some part of him was alarmed when he couldn’t get them to respond, but he was too tired to get anxious.

One hand came up to cradle the back of his head as he was made to stand. Well, stand by the faintest gasp of the word. If it wasn’t for the hand, or the body he was propped against, he surely would have collapsed. His feet tingled differently than usual, more numb than throbbing or sensitive. Even when he tried to make them, his knees wouldn’t support his weight. The person behind him, a sturdy wall, held him carefully upright. Raphael felt he should recognize them, if not from everything else than from their height, his head coming up to their chest from the feel of it as it lolled on his irritatingly unresponsive neck.

The first, smaller pair of hands, fingers slimmer than the ones holding him, tugged off his sweats, boxers, and nightshirt. Some part of him felt he should cover himself, like there was something he needed to hide, that he despised, tried to never let anyone see, and was forgetting.

But that would mean moving, which he didn’t think he could do even if he tried. His arms were so heavy, and was it really so bad if they saw it?

He lost time.

And then he was scalding, dragged beneath a spray of water. He gasped through a barely open mouth, his breath rasping loudly in his throat, then started to cough violently.

Were they trying to drown him?

A heave ran through him as he coughed, desperate for breath he didn’t actually need, feeling as though he were fighting to breathe through wet cloth. One of the hands, the one with the thicker fingers, caught his chin and squeezed the joints of his jaw. He tried to jerk back and felt like he was back in Boston, struggling to wade through molasses. His body wouldn’t listen to him, every moment slow and faltering, a twitch of a movement if he managed to move at all.

"Shit, he’s covered in it."

Raphael retched as a wet finger pressed down on his tongue, sweeping along his throat. It was a horrible feeling, but when the finger drew out, he could finally breathe. He coughed harshly, gulping air down greedily.

His fingers twitched, and the hand on the back of his head tightened in his hair to keep him from doubling over. He could taste rotten sulfur, his throat stinging as he struggled to get his coughing under control. There wasn’t an inch of his skin that hadn’t begun to tingle unpleasantly, bordering on a faint burn.

The smaller set of hands left his skin, replaced a moment later by a washcloth. The tingling quickly built to a burn, and as energy began to return to his limbs, he struggled weakly. Being pinned had never resulted in anything good, and slowly awareness was filtering to him; he shouldn’t be so confused and so tired; he should have been wide awake long before they’d made it into his apartment. He’d never known the touch of holy water, but having water flow over his body just before he began to burn did not bode well.

The arms tightened around him, and a familiar voice grunted as he managed to brace one foot on the slippery tile and drive the heel of the other into the shin of the person behind him.

"Stop fighting us, dammit!"

Wait—he did know that voice. Now that it didn’t sound so far away, so muffled, he did know that voice. And those hands felt familiar, as did the body behind him. And now, with the insulated walls of the shower between him and that awful, seeping cinnamon scent, he could make out the strong bite of petrichor.

He forced his eyes open, though they were very reluctant. His vision swam, eyes stinging, and they’d only open a slit. But even through a film of silver tears, he’d know that angel anywhere. She was too close for him to make out her features, but even darkened and flattened to her scalp by water, that red hair was unmistakeable.

"M’ch’l?" His tongue was slow, heavy, and unresponsive in his mouth. Just that word, if you could call it a word, made him cough again, tearing at his throat. He whimpered, and the angel behind him held him up when the force of it tried to bend him over. Ichor sprayed, foul and thick, across his tongue. Before he could do anything, Camael reached up and swiped his fingers across his tongue and throat. Raphael retched, but strangely, his throat hurt far less.

"Shut up," she snapped as he panted, stooping and running the washcloth down his legs.

"You’re a real idiot, you know," she said as she straightened.

"Wh-?" He cleared his throat, trying to get his voice to obey him. His voice sounded ridiculous, slurring and rough. "Why?"

Finally, he got his legs to support him, though they shook violently. Still, when Camael pushed him forward and Michael pulled him towards her, he went easily. He slumped, head resting on her shoulder, letting her take most of his weight. Behind him, Camael wiped him down with quick, rough movements. His skin burned, too sensitive, under the touch of the rag, and he whined as his hands and feet began to sting. He hadn’t even realized how numb they’d gone, but now that they felt as if they were being lanced with needles, he wished they’d go back to being numb.

Camael knelt, pushing him so he put more of his weight on Michael, and pulled up his foot. He did cry out, then. They were always either sensitive or numb, but the feel of the rag was agony. Then he began to cough again, struggling against the burn in his chest. Each small gasp of breath he managed to get only fueled the burn, and he sobbed.

"Sorry, sorry," Camael muttered, hurrying to finish. The other foot hurt just as badly, if not more, and it was only because Michael braced herself that they weren’t both taken to the ground when his leg gave out.

"Close your eyes," Camael said, and then Michael guided him to stand upright and bend over. He wheezed, beginning to cough again, wrinkling his nose at the foul taste of sulfur. When the stream of water was aimed at his hair, he flinched, so Michael brought one hand up to cover his eyes. Hands ran roughly through his hair, tugging at tangles, Camael murmuring apologies every time he tugged roughly at his scalp.

"Is that all of it?" Camael asked, helping him to stand upright. He wavered, blinking blearily at Michael as he struggled to catch his breath.

The burning was starting up again in his throat, and he managed to say "All of-" before it irritated his throat so badly that he started to cough again. When the force of it, pain shooting through his upper back, threatened to take him to the ground, Camael held him upright. Heat filled his mouth, and he tasted sulfur as the water shut off.

"Don’t let him get any on his skin," Camael said as Michael pressed the cloth to his mouth.

"I know," she scowled. "Next time he can catch his breath, hold his head up and his mouth open."

It felt like ages as he coughed. His throat and chest burned, and tears trickled down his face. Camael slid one hand up to rest over his racing heart, Michael replacing his grip on Raphael’s arm with her own.

Finally, he was able to take a breath. It wasn’t much, but for a moment, he could stop coughing. His breath whistled in his throat, an awful sound that set his teeth on edge. Camael grabbed his jaw, making him tilt his head back, then, as gently as he could, squeezed the joints of his jaw.

Raphael coughed, jerking awkwardly at the angle his throat was forced to. He didn’t struggle as Camael lowered him, and Michael stood on the tips of her toes. She raised her hand, and Raphael’s instincts screamed as divinity spiked strongly in the air. Gold-tinged smoke trickled from his mouth as Michael pinched the air, then pulled back. There was an awful tugging feeling in his chest before the burning flared. He struggled against Camael’s pinning grip, but as the agonizing burn rose through his throat, his chest stopped hurting.

With a gasp, he began to gulp down air. Each breath came easier than the last, the burn moving to his tongue, then gone completely. Camael loosened his grip, letting him slump against him as he gasped for breath. Camael was saying something. He could tell by the vibrations of his chest against his back, and maybe Michael was, too. But his heart raced loudly in his ears, and he couldn’t hear anything else. He twisted, spitting ichor into the drain.

Michael stepped out of the shower, and scooping Raphael up, Camael followed.

Please tell me I’m not naked.

Michael looked away as she grabbed a towel. "Can you stand?"

He cleared his throat, basking in being able to breathe. "Y-yeah," he said, though he wasn’t really sure. Camael carefully set him down, making sure he could take his own weight before releasing him.

Raphael hadn’t known this Camael could be so gentle or kind. He wished he’d been aware enough to enjoy it.

Hands shaking, he took the towel she offered. His head was still a bit foggy, the world moving slowly around him, but now he could feel the alarm he should have felt before creeping up on him.

"How dumb are you?" Michael asked as he toweled himself dry before he could ask what the hell had happened. It was only as he carefully picked up a foot to towel it dry, leaning into Camael’s supporting hand, seeing the discolored flesh that went up nearly to his knee, that his heart dropped into his stomach.

His glamors.

He wasn’t wearing his glamors.

They’d have seen the discolorations for sure, and they certainly would have felt them. It was a miracle he hadn’t, in his daze, brought out his spines.

The thought made him feel ill.

And–his eyes. His eyes didn’t have the reassuring, faint warmth of his glamor, the one he applied without thought the moment he woke. That glamor—they'd have seen his eyes; they’d have seen those monstrous eyes. How had Michael stomached seeing them?

He took deep breaths, reveling in them, and answered her. "I don’t know... I don’t even know what happened." Frantically, he tried to call up the glamor. It was child’s play—something he could do when bleeding and half-dead. But his power, usually burning and riotous, was barely more than a smolder in his chest. His eyes remained unchanged.

"Myrrh," she said as she walked out of the bathroom, speaking over her shoulder as he tied the towel around his waist. Camael helped him follow on shaky legs. "You got yourself covered from head to toe in myrrh." When he walked into the rest of the apartment, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. The entire place smelled like ozone, divinity sparking along his skin.

Michael rummaged through his dresser, pulling out a shirt and tossing it to him once he’d sat on the edge (well, his bed was round, so it didn’t have edges) of his bed. It had been stripped down to the mattress, and the rough mattress itched his sensitive skin.

"And inhaled it," Camael added as he pulled the shirt on. He sounded pissed, and Raphael cringed. "How the hell did you manage that?"

"I didn’t mean to," Raphael protested as he wriggled awkwardly into a pair of shorts that landed in his lap. He mourned his boxers but would rather that Michael didn’t go into his underwear drawer. Remembering the days of robes and little else, then the days of kaunakes, which covered even less, he wondered when he’d become so prudish. What Fallen would mean to inhale myrrh? "Who burns myrrh anymore?"

Michael wasn���t far enough away for him to make out her expression, but he was fairly certain she was looking to Heaven for strength.

He didn’t need to look to know that Camael was rolling his eyes. "I’m serious," Raphael said. "I haven’t been able to smell anything but cinnamon for weeks. You think I’d’ve stuck around if I smelled myrrh?"

Of all the things hellish beings were weak to—blessed objects, certain sacred symbols and objects, holy water, purified salt, consecrated ground, certain sigils and runes, among other things—Raphael found myrrh the most insidious. Sacred symbols and objects you could avoid; you had to touch them, usually, to be harmed by them. Pick them up or have them thrown at you. They were only dangerous if they touched bare skin. Any hellish being knew well what those tended to be. Blessed objects were more dangerous; anything could be blessed. Sacred symbols and objects counted among blessed objects, like crosses, ushabti, and holy books. But it was entirely possible to rummage through a pile of clothing and find a blessed shirt. Sigils and runes had to be carved or painted, and were far less reliable. They were so finicky that a shaky hand or a shed eyelash in the wrong spot could ruin the entire thing. They were usually best at keeping hellish beings out, or he’d have considered them much worse. But if someone knew what they were doing, they could make the barrier far more dangerous, even lethal. The ones he’d painted around his cave served as an electric fence, although he’d seen an imp fried to ash when it insisted on continuing to try to come in. Once, though, he’d seen a demon walk over an intricate rune set, unaware, and be instantly and mercilessly erased from existence.

Consecrated ground, well. Raphael, personally, hated consecrated ground after spending years recovering from a run-in with it. But provided you weren’t him and weren’t foolish with it, it wasn’t too much of a danger. Consecrated ground was almost always a holy building, religious or spiritual retreat, sacred grove, or sacred site. So long as you avoided those, you were just fine. That wasn’t a hard rule—he was still deeply confused by a six-inch-by-six-inch patch he’d found deep in Baikunthapur Forest—but it was a safe one to live by. And, if you were unlucky enough to find some random patch, you just had to step off of it.

It was only when you stayed standing on it that it started to eat away at your being.

Purified salt, unless consumed, was only really useful for making a salt circle. If it touched the skin, it acted as a bit of an irritant, but when consumed in large amounts, it became an anticoagulant. ‘Large amounts’ being the key word; it diluted in drinks, and any amounts that would be dangerous to a hellish being made food noticeably salty. And holy water—well, any self-respecting hellish being feared holy water, especially with people carrying it around now. You never knew how pure it would be, whether it was just tap water with a prayer said over it by some human or water properly blessed by an angel. The former, a Fallen or demon would have to be dunked in or guzzle to be killed by, and it would be a long, drawn-out, preventable death. Otherwise, it hurt like hot oil.

Not pleasant, but better than the latter. The latter was like acid; a few drops would eat away at your skin, but any significant amount was liable to outright dissolve you away.

Myrrh, though. In its natural state, it was harmless. He could hold it with his bare hands if he wanted to. But when burned, which humans had taken to doing, it became smoke. And it was the smoke that was so dangerous. That it had such a strong, distinct scent meant it was one of the easier dangers to avoid. Still, if, somehow, you breathed it—perhaps being a new demon, or a Fallen with little experience of Creation—it settled in your lungs, clinging to your throat. Often, it coated your skin as well, if you were unlucky enough to be too close. It ate away at you slowly, siphoning away your power. This made you tired, too dazed to register that something was wrong. If you fell asleep, you never woke up again.

Raphael remembered how groggy he’d felt, how tired and listless, so certain that it would be no harm at all just to go back to sleep. How he hadn’t cared though there’d been hands on him, strangers (or so they’d seemed at the time) crowded around him while he was vulnerable. If that had happened in Hell...

He shivered.

Michael had been talking, and he quickly scrubbed his hair dry, trying to pretend he’d been listening.

"–lucky we found you when we did!"

"I know," he said. There were so many ways he was lucky, as much as he sometimes thought himself otherwise. When it mattered, he was damn lucky.

"Really," Camael said behind him, his voice soft. "You were almost dead, Raphael. If we had waited a few hours–"

Raphael was startled when Camael’s voice hitched. And, he realized, Michael’s had sounded decidedly rattled. They cared. He barely managed to keep from smiling, as inappropriate as that would be. They still didn’t remember him. Camael hadn’t told him what he’d seen, but he’d seen a memory, or more than one. Enough to know he had known him once. That, for all these years, Raphael hadn’t been lying. He didn’t know the depth of their relationship, but that was fine. Gabriel and Michael, through Camael, had come to accept that they’d known him as well.

It was hard to deny, especially once he showed them their feathers on his necklace and that his were on their jewelry. He couldn’t fake the feathers on his necklace. They shed feathers, sure. But the feathers on his necklace sparked with their divinity—the remnants of when they’d shrunk them, solidifying them so they wouldn’t be ruined in his day-to-day. There wasn’t any of his foul power on them.

Right, his power. It was a bit of a struggle, but after a moment, he managed to pull a glamor over his eyes. He’d done his best not to look them in the eye, but they’d certainly noticed something was off, even if they’d been distracted when they’d seen it.

How they hadn’t realized they had his feathers—well, he had his suspicions. They’d worn them since before Creation, and that was a very long time not to question the seemingly random feathers they shared. Then again, there were so many things that didn’t make sense that no one in Heaven, it seemed, had questioned.

His necklace-! He reached for his throat, fumbling where the cold chain always was. He’d only taken it off once since they’d given it to him, when he’d handed it to Michael to prove he really did have their feathers. But his neck was bare, and, to his horror, so was his wrist. Camael’s bracelet was gone, too.

"Here." Michael’s voice was undeniably strangled. When he looked at her, he sighed in relief. A little smear of gold and what looked to be a miniscule streak of the same with three white blobs dangling from it hung from her hand. They reeked of ozone, and divinity brushed against his skin when he took them.

"We-"

"We?"

"Michael banished your bedding. It had myrrh all over it." Raphael had liked that bedding. "Your clothes too. She cleaned everything. We didn’t want to risk missing some."

"When did you manage to do that?" He gaped at Michael. Everything between falling asleep and Camael washing his hair was blurry, with massive blank spots. Still, he was fairly certain there hadn’t been a moment when she wasn’t there.

Camael took the clasp he’d been struggling with, ignoring his startled flinch, and fastened his necklace for him. Feeling was still coming back to his extremities, and he felt rather fumbly.

"Right after I took off your clothes," she said plainly. Raphael was sure he turned an impressive silver as he remembered her stripping him under the water, Camael holding up his dead weight. She was his sister, but still. He’d have been just as embarrassed if it were Gabriel. Hell, Camael being there was almost as embarrassing.

…wow, he really had become a prude.

"I did it all at the same time. It’s not that hard if you’re doing all the room at once. Though, uh," she sounded sheepish. He remembered the way she’d avert her eyes when embarrassed, dark skin taking on a twinkling gold glint. "I might have been a bit overzealous. Some of those lights went out… and I might have vanished some of your towels."

That did not surprise him. You didn’t have to put much thought into using power—or divinity, as the case might be—but the less you focused, the more mistakes it might make or the more liberties it might take. If she’d thought ‘bedding and clothing’ it might have included ‘fabrics’ in that, and he should feel lucky he had any clothing or towels left at all. Hell, if she’d been rushing and had intentions such as ‘purify everything’, he was lucky he had anything left; such broad intentions could easily have ‘purified’ his apartment by emptying it.

He laughed. It felt good to laugh, to enjoy being able to breathe without that awful burn. "Don’t, don’t worry about it. Those were shit towels."

Forgetting himself, used to only letting Lilith and Lethe at his back, he reclined back against Camael. Camael stiffened against him, and he went rigid. Then, slowly, Camael relaxed.

Michael moved to sit next to him, sighing loudly.

"You have to be more careful," she said, sounding her age. Not the one her physical body appeared, but how old she truly was.

"I usually am." Sometimes. With some things. He was still alive, wasn’t he? And in (mostly) one piece.

Camael snorted.

"I avoid myrrh, I promise. We all do." He winced. Usually, he did all he could to keep from mentioning Hell, demons, or other Fallen. "If I have to get close to it, I layer up and wear masks. I avoid anywhere that burns incense or anything." This did, however, make it very hard to source materials for runes and sigils. Oh. The fucking corner store! The person who ran it was always burning candles. He’d been going there for years. "And if I even think I’m exposed to it, I shower. I just couldn’t smell anything through that damn cinnamon. It’s been strong the last few years, but never this bad."

...then again, he forced himself not to grimace; he hadn’t even worn his mask. Some dumbass had yelled at him the last time he had, and he hadn’t had it in him to get into an argument if he ran into someone else who took issue with him. Of course, that would be the one time Georgie burned fucking myrrh instead of their ‘field of fresh-mown grass’ candles.

In fact, he had sneezed. But their candles usually made him sneeze, and the cinnamon brooms irritated his nose, so he hadn’t thought anything of it.

Damn, he was stupid.

"Well, it is. What are you going to do now?"

Camael asked a good question. Raphael pinched the bridge of his nose as he thought. "I’ll have to be more careful. Cover up as much as I can, stay away from any shops if I can, wear a mask. Definitely will shower as soon as I get home no matter what... that was dumb of me."

"Very."

It was funny when Michael and Gabriel did it. When Michael and Camael spoke together, it was just disconcerting.

"Burn any cinnamon brooms I find," he added, sotto voce.

"Why are they even a thing?" Michael shook her head. "Makes you feel like you shoved a bar of cinnamon up your nose."

He laughed, enjoying the rumble of Camael’s chest behind him as he did the same.

God, he’d missed this.

"What were you doing here, anyway?" He'd been sure he’d be spending Christmas alone. But here were Michael and Camael in his apartment, having saved his life. "Not that I’m not grateful!" He was quick to add.

Camael didn’t laugh again, but Raphael could feel the rumble of his chuckle against his back. The warmth that spread through his chest, then, was anything but painful.

"Well, it’s Christmas, isn’t it?" Camael said, and now that he paid attention, Raphael realized he was right. Even through the cinnamon, he could smell turkeys and hams baking; his gender-optional neighbor had, it seemed, procrastinated and was only now baking an over-sweetened apple pie. Children were shrieking (he grimaced. Michael snickered.), and adults and older children were laughing. Awful Christmas music was playing, muffling the tearing of wrapping paper and the high-pitched noises of children trying out their new toys.

"You really thought we were going to let you spend it alone? Our own brother?"

Yes.

"I didn’t think you celebrated, honestly."

He knew they celebrated. He’d seen them more than once, participating in so many holidays over the centuries. So many New Year's celebrations, sometimes more than one in the same year. Why humans couldn’t pick a calendar and stick with it, he’d never know. Sometimes it was just Michael and Gabriel. Others, it was Michael, Gabriel, and Camael, and he was glad about it. It was nice to know they were still close. Rarely, it was just one of them. Often, it was Michael and Raguel, Camael, and, bafflingly, Gabriel and Kushiel. He’d seen them giving gifts of protection during Handsel Monday centuries ago, helping with the harvest and blessing the loaves of Lammas, preventing injuries during Gŵyl Mabsant, betting on who’d fail to carry the burning barrels during Up Helly Aa, throwing tomatoes at each other (from what he could tell through watching from afar, they lost points if they hit humans) each La Tomatina he’d seen, and, on one memorable occasion, Gabriel, Kushiel, and Raguel, glamored to appear as a man, competing in a heated discus throwing competition at one of the last Ancient Olympic games while Michael and Camael egged them on. This had ended very quickly when Gabriel, scowling at Kushiel, had flung his discus an impossible distance and lodged it into the wall of the stadium. There had been a very brief chaos as the angels rushed to make the humans forget what they saw.

Raphael would have helped, honestly, but he’d been too busy laughing until he cried at the horror on their faces.

And, in recent years, Gabriel seemed to have found it great fun to participate in Blasphemy Day. Michael always followed him, telling him he shouldn’t, but if Raphael got close enough that he could make out her face, she was always grinning.

But why should he think they’d want to celebrate with him?

"Of course we do," Michael frowned. "Actually, Camael, can you text Gabriel? He’s probably wondering where we are."

"Wait, Gabriel–?"

"He’s at Camael’s apartment. We’ve got a tree up and everything. If you’re feeling up to it, of course?"

Of course, he was up to it. He’d drag himself across shards of blessed glass if only to have a moment with any of them. His skin was a bit too sensitive, but otherwise? He’d have had no idea that he’d almost died in such a stupid way.

"Yeah, of course." Michael stared him down, but she’d raised him, insofar as any of them had been raised, so he didn’t squirm or look away.

"Tell Gabriel we’re about to head over," she finally said, apparently satisfied. Then she leaned forward, grabbing something out of his sightline that crinkled loudly. When she leaned back, she held a lumpy package in her hands, covered in gaudy, multi-colored stripes. At least, he assumed so. They smeared, hurting his eyes. She dropped it in his lap.

"What’s this?" He picked it up, wrinkling his brow when it gave under his touch.

"You have to look the part." Even still, she sounded tired, and he felt horrible for scaring her so badly.

Look the part?

Finally, he really looked at her. And then he had to laugh. He’d been a bit distracted, but now it was impossible to miss the garish red sweater she wore. It clashed horribly with her hair, and he wished more than anything that he could make out what those twinkling, white blobs were.

"Camael’s is worse," she grumped. That he had to see. He twisted, then laughed harder. Raphael hadn’t known blue could be that bright, and the fuzziness of it explained the coarseness he’d felt against his exposed skin. Lights of various colors twinkled, and he snorted, then laughed at that.

"Oh God," he rubbed at his eyes as they teared up, "that’s bad."

"Wait until you see yours." Camael patted his shoulder.

"Mine?" The word came out far louder than he’d intended it to.

They really did want him, didn’t they? A gift, a Christmas tree, and now an ugly Christmas sweater. His grin, he was sure, was wobbly. Raphael had gifts for them too, of course. But he’d had no delusions of being able to give them to them. He had intended to give them to Camael the next time he saw him, Oh, I saw these, thought of you guys. Mind giving those to Michael and Gabriel next you see them? Thanks!

He’d never dreamed of being able to see them open them.

"Now, get dressed. Put that on, get some pants. Sister or not, I’m not going through your underwear drawer."

"Thank you for that."

He had so much to thank her for. Raphael didn’t think he’d ever be able to say them all.

#whumptember2023 #whumptember 2023 #whumptember2023 day 25 #whumptember day 25 #day twenty five: head lolling #day twenty five: desperate measures #sicktember2023 #sicktember 2023 #sicktember day 5 #sicktember day 23 #sicktember day 25 #sicktember day 27 #sicktember day 29 #bad things happen bingo #prompt: hurts to breathe #saudade #original writing #one-shot #original story #raphael #michael #gabriel #camael #implied depression #lore #world lore #worldbuilding #bthb

[greenroseunderglass]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: James T. Kirk & Spock Characters: James T. Kirk, Spock (Star Trek), Leonard "Bones" McCoy Additional Tags: Tumblr Prompt, Sickfic, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort Summary:

The famous friendship had to start somewhere, not just in desperate battles but in quiet nights as well. Sometimes letting someone see you be weak matters more than you think it should.

#sicktember2023 #Sicktember day 3 #sickfic #fluff & h/c #star trek tos #star trek

[fanfictasia]

Sicktember Day 5

Preventive Measures (Not Taken) 

Spoiler: This is an excerpt from The Chosen Twins

Anakin Skywalker

We really, really should have been more careful.

“Master!” I call in warning, as a barely visible cloud of… something starts to fill the cave around us.

“Come on,” Obi-Wan urges, paying no attention to the warning whatsoever as he goes in chase of the gangsters.

Except, they’ve already disappeared from sight into the tunnels, though, and I have no idea which direction they went. Probably, that’s the lesser of our concerns right now. “We need to get out of here,” I warn.

“There’s no time,” Obi-Wan retorts, heading deeper into the cave. It winds down far deeper and practically endlessly in front of us. I don’t think there’s even an end in sight that way, and if we go back, we’ll be going right through where those spores are the strongest. So… I really don’t know what to do now, but staying here without taking any precautions – it’s not like we have masks – is only going to make this worse.

“Those plants are poisonous,” I interject. If the toxin kills us, we won’t be going anywhere. I don’t think it could go that far or anything, but still.

Obi-Wan pauses for a moment, looking none too happy. But we don’t have any longer to debate it.

Blue and green lightsabers abruptly plunge through the top of the cave, cutting in a circle.

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #fanfiction #sicktember #sicktember 2023 #sicktember day 5 #sicktember day five #day five #day 5 #anakin skywalker #anakin #obi-wan kenobi #obi-wan #anakin and obi-wan #family #preventive measures #sicktember2023

[blogger360ncislarules]

'I don't know! I have this pounding headache and I feel like I'm going to throw up!'

Day 1 of @sicktember!

#sicktember2023 #sicktember #ncis la #langer #my work

[improvisedkatastrophe]

Day 1 of Sicktember with my favorite Wingmen, hope you enjoy!

#sicktember sicktember2023 iceman maverick thomaskazansky petemitchell topgun fanfiction hurt/comfort

[timetravelinghydra]

Sicktember2023 - No.27 - Uncooperative Patient

Caretaker watched Hero carefully. They were in bed and prone to escaping. It's an important job, protecting others, but protecting yourself first is also pretty important.

Reaching over, Caretaker attempted to stroke Hero's arm, or at least what they thought was their arm.

They pushed down just a little too hard and Hero's arm flattened into the bed. Caretaker jumped up, afraid they had just squashed Hero's arm. A moment later, they ripped the blanket off the bed to reveal pillows where Hero should've been.

Sighing, they went out to the living room to wait for their return.

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

Hero was walking among the streets, watching the glimmering shop lights above them. They were exhausted, but foregoing the nightly patrol would only make it easier for a villain, even if Hero was having to walk particularly slowly.

They turned the corner, watching the opposite sidewalk and preparing, as best as they could in their condition, to grab their knife from their pocket at any moment.

A shadow leaped across the ground in front of them.

Hero flinched at the movement, causing a sharp intake of breath that immediately needed to be countered with another breath.

Villain's figure appeared in front of Hero.

"Hero, Hero, Hero," Villain started. "Here with another attempt to try and stop me from my 'heinous crimes'?"

Hero moved towards Villain, shifting their weight carefully. "Of course. I have to protect this city from you, you're too dangerous."

Villain eyed them carefully. "I take that as a compliment." At that moment a small knife was pushed in Hero's direction, who made to move back but only managed to stumble backwards. Hero's knees were having trouble supporting their body accordingly.

With the knife at Hero's throat, Villain relaxed their posture. "Give it up, Hero. You can't play the savior when you can't even walk properly." They removed the knife and backed up to give Hero room.

Hero gritted their teeth. "I'm fine, I don't know what you're talking about. They had their own knife at Villain's throat in a second. Unfortunately for them, this was close enough for Villain to hear their labored breathing.

"You're not fine."

"You're being awfully nonchalant for someone with a knife at their throat."

Villain punched Hero in the stomach. Doubling over in pain, Hero gritted out, "Fuck you." They were fighting to keep their breath steady. "Since when do you care?"

"I don't."

And with that, Villain walked away into the darkness of the road.

Hero fell to the ground, grunting as their knees hit the concrete. It was going to be an incredibly long walk home, if they could even still move. Sighing, they braced to stand up but only managed to stumble a bit before collapsing onto the ground, unconscious.

#sicktember 2023 #no.27 #uncooperative patient #whump #whump writing #hero and villain

[ao3feed-spirk]

Old Traditions Anew

read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/50163079 by greenroseunderglass (Sfyrist) A small landing party gets hijacked unprepared onto a Bridal Party that covers a world. Communications are not allowed, celebrations are constant, and participation is required! Words: 4856, Chapters: 2/2, Language: English Fandoms: Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: Gen, M/M Relationships: James T. Kirk & Spock, James T. Kirk/Spock, James T. Kirk & Leonard "Bones" McCoy & Spock Additional Tags: Sickfic, eventually, Prompt 15, Sick in an inconvenient place, Common Cold, greenrosewrites, sicktember2023, See Chapter 2 for Prompt Fill read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/50163079

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #spock/kirk #kirk/spock #spirk #spockxkirk #kirkxspock

[cuddlepilefics]

Hiding an illness

Fandom: Ateez

Sickie: Yeosang

Caregivers: Ateez

Prompt: @sicktember

No one’s POV.:

Yeosang’s eyes watered as he picked up his head. He couldn’t remember how long he had been out but it had to have been a while because his legs cramped and his back ached. With a shaky hand, Yeosang flushed the toilet, not wanting to look at his stomach contents again. When he got to his feet, his vision darkened around the edges, forcing him to hold onto the sink. After taking a few deep breaths to ride out the dizziness, Yeosang washed his hands and took a look at himself in the mirror. Gosh, he looked dreadful. Rinsing his mouth with water a couple of times, he reached for the mouthwash. While he swished the minty liquid around his mouth, glad to finally get that foul taste off his tongue, he splashed some cold water into his face. If he hadn’t been so incredibly tired, Yeosang would’ve taken a shower, disgusted that he had actually fallen asleep with his arms crossed on the toilet seat.

Taking his temperature, Yeosang bit his lip. This wasn’t good. They’d have a pretty packed day ahead, their alarms set to go off in about two hours, yet here ha was barely having gotten any sleep. When he had first gone to bed, Yeosang hadn’t been able to fall asleep for over an hour, his stomach twisting painfully no matter how he curled up in his bed. He could already feel the onset of a fever then, the slight chills as he pulled his blanket tighter without feeling any warmer. It hadn’t taken long after he fell asleep for him to wake up feeling so much worse. Yeosang had barely made it out of bed and to the bathroom in time to be sick. Afraid he wouldn’t get any rest if he didn’t manage to calm his stomach down, he had dragged himself to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. It still sat untouched on the coffee table in the living room. Yeosang had settled on the couch as he waited for his tea to cool but before he got a chance to drink it, his stomach had rebelled again, sending him back to the bathroom, where he eventually fell asleep.

With his arm wrapped protectively around his tummy, Yeosang trudged back to the living room. Sure enough, his tea was cold now. He wasn’t even sure he’d be able to keep it down so he just dumped it into the sink and filled a hot water bottle instead. His abs were sore already, which didn’t help the cramps in the slightest, so he took his hot water bottle and headed back to bed. Yeosang hugged the hot water bottle to his middle as he pulled his blanket all the way up to his chin, trying to ease the chills but there was no use. If he was lucky, he could get one more hour of sleep before they’d have to get up for work.

Of course, Yeosang hadn’t been lucky. He had spent the past hour in a daze with his head thumping and his stomach churning. When his alarm rang, he just wanted to cry. They’d be so busy today and he felt completely overwhelmed by the intense schedule as he slipped the still comfortably warm hot water bottle under his pillow to hide it. It was only then that Yeosang realized what amount of comfort it had brought him. He shuddered as he kicked off his blanket. Swinging his legs over the side of his bed, the boy sat up and needed a moment to get his head to stop spinning. Today would be hell.

They started the day with an interview, which Yeosang was all to happy about. He could just sit and look pretty while the other members, mainly Hongjoong, did the talking. Well, looking pretty was a little difficult but the makeup artist worked her magic and he turned out looking decent enough. Since he still had to wait for the other member to be done with their hair and makeup, Yeosang figured he should try to get some more rest. It wasn’t easy in a dressing room buzzing with people but he found a somewhat quiet corner. He winced as he slipped one hand under his shirt, softly palming his bloated tummy. Had his mind not been muddled by fever, Yeosang would’ve questioned why it was so suspiciously peaceful in the waiting area. He startled when someone plopped down next to him.

“Hey”, Yunho smiled, “You look like you didn’t sleep a wink.” Pulling his knees up to his chest, Yeosang shrugged: “Wasn’t much, I guess.” – “Wooyoung and San are out getting coffee and maybe a small bite for breakfast. Schedules have been changed, so the interview will be delayed and we won’t have time to eat before dance practice”, Yunho informed. So that was where the chaos-kids were. Yeosang nodded in acknowledgement. He wouldn’t have found the energy to get up right now anyway. “Do you wanna try and get some more sleep before the interview? You look exhausted”, the older hummed, “Here, you can put your head on my shoulder.” Though a little tense at the sudden skinship, Yeosang allowed Yunho to guide his head. The dancer’s shoulder was surprisingly comfortable and breathing a quiet ‘thanks’ Yeosang closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep.

Yunho was scrolling through social media wen San and Wooyoung returned. The pair handed out food and with the other members swarming them, Yunho was surprised his dongsaeng remained asleep next to him. “Hyung, we got you coffee”, San beamed, crouching next to Yunho. The older tanked him quietly, before whispering: “If you still have some food left, you should make Yeosang eat some. His tummy’s really noisy and if he’s this hungry already, he really needs to eat something before dance practice.” San nodded, heading back to the others to grab something for his hyung to eat. When he returned though, Yunho was sitting there by himself. Apparently Yeosang had snuck past him while he was distracted. “Thanks, Sannie. He just went to the restroom but I’ll tell him to eat as soon as he’s back”, Yunho smiled as the younger handed him a takeout box. San nodded before going to bother Wooyoung.

Yeosang’s hands trembled as he locked the door behind himself. He hadn’t expected to get any sleep, so he should be happy but those twenty minutes had left him disoriented and just as tired as before. His stomach was in knots, head pounding as he leant against the wall, drawing a shuddering breath. A queasy burp climbed up his throat, leaving a sour taste in his mouth. Squeezing his eyes shut, Yeosang pleaded silently ‘not again’, as he leant over the toilet. He didn’t have much in him to still throw up but the nausea was so intense, his throat kept contracting with unproductive gags. Hurriedly ripping off some toilet paper, Yeosang dabbed at his watering eyes, afraid his makeup would start to run down his face. His stomach contracted with a forceful heave, causing him to break into a sweat.

It had only been about ten minutes but to Yeosang it felt like an eternity till the dry heaves finally tampered off. His throat felt shredded and his head ached in a way that made it impossible to think straight but he knew the interview might start at any point, so he couldn’t dwell on it. Yeosang quickly washed his hands and took a paper towel to dab the sweat off his forehead without wiping away his makeup. On shaky legs, he made his way back to the waiting area, wincing when he was hit with the smell of food. “Oh, there you are, hyung”, Wooyoung grinned, “We already thought you might have gotten lost. There’s food for you over there.” – “Thanks, Woo”, Yeosang rasped, desperately trying to come up with an excuse, so he wouldn’t have to eat, “I’m not really hungry yet but I’ll make sure to eat something later.”

Before Yeosang could sit down further away, he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. “You’re not catching a cold, are you?”, Seonghwa frowned, taking in his dongsaeng’s pale complexion, “Your voice doesn’t sound to great.” The younger hurriedly shook his head, making himself dizzy in the process. Backing away, Yeosang denied: “I do not have a cold. Must have strained my throat or something.” Before the oldest could press further, Yeosang was pulled aside by a makeup artist, who scolded him for messing with his makeup. While he got his makeup fixed, Yeosang wished for the ground to swallow him up. His clothes were already clinging to his skin from how much he was sweating and he hadn’t even danced yet. There was no way he’d be able to get through their practice later. “We need to get out for the interview in a few minutes”, Jongho informed, handing the older a bottle of water, “There won’t be anymore time for you to eat, so you’ll have to eat during the drive to the company building later.” Yeosang nodded, grateful he had been able to evade it this time. He quickly uncapped the bottle and took a few sips to soothe his throat.

The interview passed in a blur. Just like Yeosang had expected, there was only one question directed at him and aside from that, all he had to do was put on a smile. Now that it was over though, the cramps made it almost impossible to smile at all. The best he could do was walk to the waiting car without a limp. Yeosang had just buckled himself in as he had a Styrofoam container thrust into his hands. “We’ll be dancing all afternoon, so you really need to get something into your system. We only have rice now though”, Hongjoong announced, checking the time on his phone, “Hope twenty minutes are enough.” Gulping, the younger nodded, aware that both Seonghwa and Yunho were keeping an eye on him now. Yeosang tried to take steady breaths to keep his stomach in check but he really didn’t feel good. Though he struggled, he had managed to force down half of the rice and sipped some water afterwards, hoping the headache would improve once he managed to keep enough fluids down.

They had barely completed their warm up yet Yeosang was already dead on his feet. His stomach was rolling, obviously not happy about him eating something but it was too late now. While they waited for Yunho to pic a song, Wooyoung made his way over to his friend. The older had looked down all morning, so he wanted to cheer him up. Hugging Yeosang tight, Wooyoung made a wordplay joke to earn a laugh but his joke didn’t land. Yeosang tensed in his hold, gasping: “Woo! No, I-“ Panicking, he clamped his hands over his mouth as his stomach lurched but it was in vain. All Yeosang could do was twist away from his friend as sick gushed up his throat.

The group watched in shocked silence as Yeosang threw up again. By now, Wooyoung had taken a step back but he kept one arm around his friend’s waist to steady him. The older trembled from the strain, whimpering: “I-I’m sorry.” - “No, don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault”, Wooyoung frowned, disappointed in himself for not noticing anything sooner, “Let’s sit down for a moment.” He guided Yeosang a few steps away from the puddle now overly aware of how hot his skin felt to the touch. Seonghwa joined them with his dongsaeng’s towel and water bottle. “How long have you been feeling bad?”, the oldest hummed softly, handing Yeosang the towel, so he could wipe his face. Drawing a shaky breath, Yeosang admitted quietly: “Last night. Barely slept ‘cause I’ve been up puking.” – “And you didn’t speak up because…?”, Seonghwa pressed, uncapping the water bottle. Hesitantly taking a sip, the younger shrugged: “I-I… I dunno.” A tear fell from his eye and he muttered: “We had a busy day an’ I didn’t wanna be an inconvenience, so I thought I’d just stick it out but I- I really don’t feel good.” – “Why would you think you’re an inconvenience?”, Wooyoung whispered sadly, guiding his friend to lean back against him. Yeosang just shrugged and closed his eyes as his head was still pounding and the bright lighting didn’t help.

“Hey, Sangie”, Hongjoong hummed, nudging his dongsaeng’s arm, “Would you be okay going home on your own? I can clear your schedule but none of us can leave yet.” Yeosang nodded but when they helped hm to his feet, his vision darkened and it was only because of Seonghwa and Wooyoung that he didn’t fall over. Seonghwa shook his head at Hongjoong. There was no way they could send their dongsaeng out on his own. Wrapping his arm around the younger’s waist, Seonghwa whispered: “Let’s get lying down for now, okay? We’ll get the trashcan and you can rest on the couch for a bit.” While he settled Yeosang on the couch, Wooyoung went to retrieve his friend’s things and covered him with his coat to quell the chills. “Here, I still had a fresh pair of ear plugs in my bag”, Yunho claimed, handing them to his fellow dancer. Jongho grabbed Yeosang’s towel and disappeared to the restroom for a moment to run it under cold water. When he returned, he gently dabbed away Yeosang’s tears before draping the towel over his forehead and eyes to block out the light, so the older would hopefully be able to get some sleep before they could get him back to the dorm for some proper rest.

#fanfic #fluff #comfort #fanfiction #sickfic #sick #ateez #atiny #sicktember2023 #sicktember 2023 #emeto #woosang #seongsang #jongsang

[acasualcrossfade]

You Need the Rest

Sicktember Day 5: "Preventative Measures (Not Taken)"

Stranger Things: Steve Harrington/ Eddie Munson

Words: 500 | Rating: T | CW: nosebleeds, mentions of blood

@sicktember | divider art by @saradika

Summary: Steve's a wizard and is physically and magically exhausted after defeating Vecna with El. Eddie tries to get him to rest.

Find me on Ao3!

Eddie descended the stairs to see Steve heavily leaning over the kitchen sink. He was slumped over the basin, and Eddie could see the blood dripping from between his fingers.

 “Shit, Steve, I said to wait,” Eddie scolded, helping the weak man into one of the chairs in the kitchen. “You can’t handle doing anything right now.”

Eddie quickly grabbed a paper towel from the roll above the sink and pressed it to Steve’s nose, and pinched, holding his head down.

“W-water,” Steve rasped, his voice muffled and stuffy against the paper towel. “S-simple.”

“Yeah, but considering you almost died a few days ago, it’s not,” Eddie reminded him. “You shouldn’t be standing, let alone walking.”

He helped Steve sip from a glass of water, his own anxiety calming. Steve was a wizard, born with powers, but it was El that helped him hone and strengthen them. And like hers, his magic took energy. Defeating Vecna, then helping heal El afterwards sapped not only Steve’s magic, but nearly his entire life force. 

Robin had kept them both conscious when they’d found them; Eddie’s stomach had dropped at Steve’s appearance. Steve had been gaunt and pale, and his lips and chin were streaked with fresh blood. His jaw was stained with blood that had dripped from his ears. Steve’s eyes were half-lidded and his head had lolled over to the side, only acknowledging Robin’s touch to his cheek with quiet grunts.

Eddie had offered for Steve to tap into his life force and Steve had, but had broken off seconds later. Eddie had urged him to please, take more, you need it. 

Won’t hurt you to help me, Steve had mumbled.

Eddie begged, but Steve refused.

So instead, Eddie tasked himself with caring for the weakened man instead. That meant both bed rest and sleep were in order, but Steve had seemed to want nothing to do with either. 

“Can do it. ” Steve’s voice was gruff, but annoyed. His skin was still a deathly white, making his moles more prominent, and his frame still trembled.

“I know you can,” Eddie said, his voice softening. “But Stevie, you’ve got to rest.” He reached for the man’s hand to start softly wiping away the blood from Steve's fingers. 

“C-can’t,” Steve quietly moaned. 

“Can’t?”

“R-rest,” Steve whispered, his voice shaking. “N-need to p-protect th-them.”

Some piece of Eddie’s heart shattered. He stroked Steve’s hand before lifting it to kiss the man’s clean knuckles. “But we need you to heal, to rest. That’s how you can protect us,” Eddie assured. 

Steve’s shoulders sagged  in exhaustion or relief, Eddie wasn’t sure. 

“Couch?”

Steve’s single word request made relief wash through Eddie. 

“Yeah, I’ve got ya.” Eddie lifted him into his arms in one smooth motion. “You good there, big boy?”

“M’good,” Steve whispered, head already heavy on Eddie’s shoulder.

And as Eddie made him comfortable with plush pillows and knitted blankets, Steve, for the first time in a long time, fell into a comfortable, dreamless sleep.

#sicktember 2023 #sicktember2023 #sicktember day 5 #Preventative Measures (Not Taken) #steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington whump #steve harrington is a wizard #magic powers #stranger things #tw blood #acasualcrossfade writes #thunderously halo writes

[revelationschapter6]

it feels like life weighs ten thousand tons

Events: Sicktember, Whumptember

Prompts:

Hopelessly Bad at Self-Care

Lashing out

Curled Up With a Pet

Warnings:

Minor self harm (Fallen angel picking up a blessed object)

Mentions of non-consensual touching (mentions of a character 'copping a feel')

This fill is written as a one-shot of my original story, Saudade. You can find my info page for Saudade here.

What context you need to read this is:

In Saudade, the Archangel Raphael Fell during the Rebellion. It was a misunderstanding that spiraled out of control, and he was thrown out by four angels while his partner, the Power Camael, tried to help him.

The angels who didn't Fall were made to forget those who did. They don't remember they ever knew them. As far as they know, all the Fallen were on the fringes of Heaven's society. If they asked around, they might go, "Wait, no one knew a Fallen?" But they Don't Ask Questions.

Raphael worked to gain Camael's trust again, and eventually won it. He regained his memories, then got the Archangels Michael and Gabriel, Raphael's siblings, to regain theirs. Now they're working on smoothing things over and reuniting Heaven and Hell.

Sicktember: Hopelessly Bad at Self-Care, Curled Up With a Pet Whumptember: Lashing out Raphael just wanted five minutes to himself. That wasn't too much to ask, was it? After all, he was only one person (by a certain definition of person), and he could only do so much to reunite Heaven and Hell. But, of course, the first time he has a moment to breathe is when it all comes crashing down on his shoulders. Thank, well, not God, for Lilith.

can be read on AO3 or below the cut

Characters mentioned: (not necessary, but for context)

Raphael - Fallen Archangel, male. Not well-liked in Hell because he worked to thwart the Rebellion, and didn't Rebel. Legally blind.

Camael - Power, male. Raphael's partner from before his Fall, now his partner again after regaining his memory.

Michael - Raphael and Gabriel's sister, the first angel ever made. Leader of Heaven's army. Secondary leader of Heaven. Female.

Gabriel - Raphael and Michael's little brother, the third angel ever made. Leader of Heaven's army, messenger of Heaven. Male.

Berith - Fallen Virtue, now a Duke of Hell. One of the eight Fallen that guard the entrance and exit to Hell. Raphael's boss. Male.

Asmodeus - Fallen Cherub, now a King of Hell. One of the eight Fallen that guard the entrance and exit to Hell. Infamously lecherous. Male.

Lilith - Adam's first wife, Fell for refusing to obey him. Became close friends after Raphael took her under his wing. Female.

Lethe - Fallen Seraph. A relative nobody in Heaven, but a great Inventor. Turned into a humanoid water-monster in her Fall, guardian of the River Lethe. Close friend of Raphael. Female.

Agares - Fallen Power, now a Duke of Hell, with a massive grudge against Raphael. Male.

Rasiel - Angel. Therapist of Heaven. Was one of the angels who threw Raphael out of Heaven after being manipulated. Deeply regrets it. Male.

Kundaniel - Throne. Archivist. Female.

Andras - Fallen Principality, now a Marquis. One of the eight Fallen that guard the entrance and exit to Hell. Female.

Jehoel - Dominion, female. Uncertain on reuniting Heaven and Hell.

Terms, etc.:

Sphere - There are nine ranks of angel, each with a different title and duty. The higher the rank, the more powerful.

Hell's Hierarchy - A ranking system implemented by Lucifer in an attempt at creating order in Hell. Having a higher title doesn't mean the Fallen is more powerful, but they have more clout and, often, more Fallen and demons under their command.

Raphael, if he could, did all he could to stay out of Hell.

By and large, he did well. Having a phone now, Berith could text or call if he needed him. Lilith and Lethe handled wrangling the Fallen well, in convincing them to put out, and accept, olive branches to Heaven. In fact, it was best he stayed out of their way; time didn’t flow the same in Hell as it did on Creation, but it had still been aeons since the Fall, and he was still hated. If he was the one trying to unite Hell’s half of Heaven and Hell, it would go very poorly, very quickly.

That didn’t mean he was sitting on his ass, though.

Lilith knew nothing of Heaven, having been human before her Fall. And it was so easy to forget that, with how quickly she’d taken to Hell, nothing more than a duck to water. But he had to teach her about Heaven, and he found there was so much to teach. So much that he took for granted, social graces that came to him naturally, for all he’d never been particularly extroverted, left her floundering. That she had no ranking - that she was no Virtue, no Dominion nor Power nor Principality nor Virtue nor even Angel, caught him up too. Because Heaven, for all it tried to be equal, still relied on its ranks. The Dominions mentored even young Seraphim, Angels did tasks for everyone else. Romances and friendships spanned all Spheres, but everyone was well aware of what they were, and what everyone else was capable of.

A Virtue, even if only a single rank higher than a Power, was undeniably more powerful than a Power. Perhaps not stronger, but their divinity carried more of a punch, and they could do more with it. And a Power was more, well, powerful than a Principality.

So finding where Lilith fit into that threw him. Ranks were causing far more trouble than any of them had expected.

Because it wasn’t just Lilith who lacked a rank. The demons - those who’d never known Heaven, who’d been borne of Hell, not of Eden or Creation - didn’t either. None of them did, not even in Hell. Lucifer had never ranked even the most powerful of them, the most accomplished.

And that, too, was a problem. Not just in where the Fallen stood - was a Fallen Virtue to be treated the same as a Virtue in the Host? Or should they be treated as a Power, a Principality? As punishment for Rebelling so long ago? But then that would cause strife because no Fallen would accept being treated as lesser.

But Hell had its system now, too. It didn’t affect how powerful they were, as Heaven’s did. But they were treated in Hell as if they did, given control over legions of Hellish beings. Agares had been a Power before his Fall, stronger only than Principalities, Archangels, and Angels, weaker than the five other ranks. But in Hell, he’d been made a Duke, the second most powerful of the eight titles. Nine, if you counted those who had no title. Ten, if you counted the Grigori, who stood apart. Should he be treated as a middling Power? Or as something more powerful?

Raphael, Michael, and Gabriel were pulling their hair out over it.

And building relationships back with Heaven… well, that wasn’t exactly a cakewalk, either. Angels who got their memories back, realizing the Fallen they’d fought with, even killed, were angels they’d known once. Sometimes they’d been parental figures, older sibling figures, friends, or romantic partners. Other times they’d been child figures, in the case of Dominions who’d killed their charges, or little-sibling figures. Rasiel, as great as he was (as much as Raphael hated to admit it), could only help so many angels at once. And Raphael, apparently, was becoming the go-to for couples, or friends, or similar, who’d reunited and needed advice. After all, he and Camael had managed, so couldn’t he help them?

Every time he stepped foot in Heaven, it felt like he was being swarmed. And considering how isolated he’d been for the last… how many years? It had been over four and a half billion years on Earth, but time didn’t flow the same in Hell, and they didn’t perceive it the same besides, but that was still a damn long time. It was making him want to shove the next angel, Fallen, demon, human, or otherwise, who walked up to him and asked if he ‘had a moment’.

He’d have a fit, is what he’d have.

He loved spending time with his siblings, of course, and Camael, and catching up with them. It had been a very long time, after all. And Rasiel was doing all he could to make it up to him. Raphael couldn’t be prouder of his students; they’d all really come into their own. He was enjoying getting to know all the new angels who’d been made to heal - a good thing, seeing as Heaven had only grown larger and larger.

Going into Hell, though. Well, Creation wasn’t safe. Humans could be dangerous in their own way, and Creation had its own dangers; animals, of course, and nature itself. He still had nightmares of Pompeii. And Heaven wasn’t, either. There were more than a few angels who weren’t happy about Heaven and Hell reuniting. Though they’d tried, neither he, Raphael, Michael, Gabriel, or Camael had been able to work out why some of them Fell but others didn’t.

But Hell was still Hell. Hellhounds that reached his hip on the hunt, imps swarming to feast, Damned souls suffering. And, of course, Fallen taking out their hurts on others.

Hell (pun unintended), some Fallen weren’t even taking their hurts out on others. They’d had a very long time to get used to it. But that was just ‘how it’s done’, so they’d kept doing it. And the demons had followed in their stead. So, though not with the same fervor as they once had, many Fallen and demons made Hell treacherous.

Still, Raphael did have to go down to Hell sometimes. To meet with Lethe when she didn’t come up to see him. She’d tried to get a phone but kept breaking them when she forgot to put them somewhere safe before diving into her river. And imps were as far from reliable letter carriers as you could get. To meet with Lilith, when Hell’s notoriously faulty phone service failed them.

Or, like now, when he couldn’t find something he knew he had. He’d searched everywhere it could be in Heaven, which wasn’t many because he usually only brought himself Up. Had scoured his apartment, which hadn’t taken long, as spartan as he kept it. Had searched every one of his pocket dimensions, and hadn’t found the scrolls he needed. He’d even had Camael check his apartment, though there was no reason he’d have ever brought them over there.

He didn’t even know the contents of the scrolls, which he’d found and kept on a whim back in the days of the Achaemenid Empire. But Kundaniel was near-desperate for them, whatever they were.

There was only one other place he kept things, so he’d made his way through Hell. Well, that he kept things and knew where they were. He was pretty bad about losing things, but even he wasn’t bad enough to lose an armful of scrolls. Asmodeus had clung to him like a bad smell, as he always did, so it had been hours before he’d even gotten past the Guards. Andras, as always, was no help, only encouraging him.

Every time, he forgot how draining it was. Having to sneak on edge more than ever, looking over his shoulder to make sure he wasn’t followed. He hadn’t guarded the location of his home so jealously for so long just to have it found out by being inattentive.

The cave, he’d sworn when he’d settled in it, would never become home. But it had, in a way. In its familiarity, in the softness of his star-woven rug. In its illusion of safety, until he’d found those sigils that made it truly safe. Still, it didn’t hold a candle to his apartment now, with Camael not far away, fairy lights strung across the walls, and made perfect for his faulty eyesight.

The sigils, he noted as he sidled into the cave, needed to be touched up. If they wore away much more, they’d start letting in imps and lesser dangers.

Raphael took a deep breath as he stepped into his cave, looking around. It had been a while since he’d come to it, and he’d forgotten that he’d left it in a rush. His rug lay in a heap, constellations twinkling awkwardly. A pair of boots, in the fashion popular in the 60s, slumped against the far wall—he’d been intending on storing them, as he’d found them comfortable, but forgotten to. Next to them was a dirtied muslin gown he’d been attempting (rather poorly) to darn, dropped to the dirt in his hurry. He grimaced, looking around.

That damn ushabti laid in the center of the room, though he’d swear he’d stashed it away.

The cave wasn’t big enough for him to see particularly well - he could only really make out the edges of it - but the scrolls would have stuck out like a sore thumb. Even he could make out smears of tan against brown dirt.

He sighed again, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes.

Where were the fucking scrolls?

Who lost scrolls? Who lost two-thousand-year-old scrolls?

Him, apparently.

“Fuck.”

Could one thing go right? He’d fumbled talking to Jehoel, Asmodeus had managed to cop a feel, he was fairly certain Michael was beginning to realize he couldn’t, in fact, see her seeing as he’d tripped over a polearm that had fallen but was, apparently, very visible. ‘Are you fucking blind?’ Had been Gabriel’s laughing words, but Michael, who was positioned just right for Raphael to be able to see her with absolute clarity, had had a look on her face he didn’t like. Camael, he was certain, was starting to realize something wasn’t right. Raphael had been stupid enough to stop paying so much attention in his apartment. Camael, for all he liked new things, loved familiarity; he’d had stainless steel, white everything, and glass tables since when neon was all the rage for house colors, and Raphael had never known him to get a new piece of furniture. Like Raphael, he moved every decade or so before anyone could start noticing his lack of aging. Even still, almost every apartment was laid out the same way.

So he’d been shocked when, looking at Camael as he talked, he’d stepped where he knew clear floor to be and felt the corner of the coffee table strike his shin. He’d fallen spectacularly, only able to be thankful that he’d landed off the table instead of on it because that would surely have been far more painful.

This was why he hated glass furniture.

Then again, if this was what came of using all his luck to get his family back, he wouldn’t complain. He’d take bad luck for the rest of his life if he had to.

The sigils flared an alert against his consciousness as he heard dirt shifting behind him. There wasn’t a sound of pain or a feeling of alarm, so he closed his eyes and took another deep breath.

“Hey Raphi,” Lilith said. He opened his eyes and stared at the far wall, then turned to greet her. He’d almost hoped it was someone with intent on harming him.

“Hey,” he said, perhaps a bit too harshly.

“You have a minute?” She asked, wiping dirt off her jeans.

Did he have a moment?

“Do I-?” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Do I have a moment?” Lilith stared at him in obvious confusion. “Do I have a moment?” His voice rose in volume.

“I only have to figure out how to get Asmodeus not to act like a Goddamned nymphomaniac because angels are complaining, Berith to act like a person because he’s freaking people out, work out the ranks, figure out who the Hell keeps setting shit on fire in Heaven, figure out who keeps sending me holy water, get Agares off my back, play counselor to half of Heaven and Hell, and find these damn scrolls I couldn’t care less about! Yeah, I have all the time in the fucking world!”

Lilith blinked at him, wide-eyed. The chihuahua-shaped hellhounds at her feet shivered, but they always did that. “Well,” she finally said, “tell me how you really feel.”

His face flushed an ugly, blotchy silver. To keep from saying something he would certainly regret, or doing something he would certainly regret (he was getting better at thinking before he acted, Camael would be very proud of him), he spun on his heel and stalked to the center of the room.

Or maybe not, because he snapped “How I really feel?” He stooped, picking up the ushabti with his bare hands. The holy object met his skin with a sound like meat thrown on a hot, greased pan, and Lilith lurched towards him with an alarmed sound. “I feel like everyone should leave me the Hell alone for five damn minutes!”

Lilith smacked the ushabti out of his hand, sending it skittering across the dirt. “Are you insane?” She unpeeled his clenched fingers, hissing when steam rose from his blistering hand.

Canines elongating, he snarled.

“Just because you’re pissy doesn’t mean you can go off at me, damn!” Lilith scowled at him. “Or pick up something blessed with bare hands. You think you’re going to be useful to anyone without a hand?”

He tried to pull his hand away, but she had a very tight grip. She flicked her talons out, digging them into his flesh in warning. “You’re not going to be useful to anyone if you snap, you know. You need to take a break.”

Her brown eyes met his, and he had to look away. “A break? When do I have time for that?”

“You have to make time.” With that, he yelped as she shoved him away. His balance already precarious, he tripped. Bracing for a painful landing, he was startled to find himself landing on a pile of - were those furs? Animal pelts? Who still used animal pelt piles? Even in Hell, they’d largely made the switchover to sleeping bags, cots, and futons.

He blinked up at her owlishly. Before he could do more than push up onto his elbows, beginning to say “What’s wrong with you?”, she stooped down, picking up Momo.

Oh no.

Raphael hated many things. What humans had done to isicia omentata. Rome. Loud noises and bright lights. Dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets. Things that felt goopy. Fake tans. The word ‘supple’ in English, ‘dedo do pé’ in Portuguese, and ‘brustwarze’ in German. Horses. Clowns (they were just rip-offs of jesters. Jesters were better and looked less terrifying). Palm trees.

But he hated Momo and Nina, worst of all.

They were hellhounds, which meant he didn’t like them on principle. Hellhounds were nasty creatures, with a tendency to bite first and ask questions never. And they confused him. They confused all of Hell, actually. While she considered Momo male and Nina female, Hellhounds were sexless. No one knew how they reproduced, they just did. One day you had one, the next you had the one and a pack of hellfire-eyed, stone-toothed puppies with less self-control than regular dog puppies.

When you compressed that into a form small enough that a child could punt it and spoiled it out of Hell, you ended up with a hellhound that felt the need to prove itself. Or, in their case, two.

Nasty things, but she loved them to death. He’d been the one to help her pick them out of a litter they’d found in a cave, and he’d regretted it ever since.

Raphael scrambled to stand, but she was faster. Momo landed on his stomach, knocking the breath from his lungs. He froze - that little face was innocent, muzzle short and blunt, eyes wide and round, ears comically large, and Lilith kept his long, brown and white fur immaculate. But those teeth were far too long and far too sharp, and there was too much red in those brown eyes. Lilith let them nap in her lap for hours, but he’d seen how suddenly they could move, and how quickly they could cover ground. Of the many things he’d seen in his long life, Nina going from a dead sleep to ripping open an imp twenty feet down the tunnel was one of the scariest. He wouldn’t have time to twitch before Momo’s teeth were buried in his throat.

Momo plopped his butt down, plume-like tail wagging.

“Phone,” Lilith demanded, holding out her hand.

He refused to look away from Momo’s unblinking eyes. “What?”

“Give me your phone. You need a break. I’m getting you one.”

“I’m not-”

She stooped down, still holding out her hand. Raphael whimpered when she straightened, holding Nina threateningly in her other hand.

“Phone,” she said, grinning. His fear of them was a never-ending source of amusement for her. Nina yipped, wriggling, paddling her hind legs where they dangled. The light that came off the single torch in his cave shone oddly against her blueish, brown-orange and white, disturbingly short fur.

Raphael whimpered in horror as Momo leaned forward to lick his chin.

“I know your phone has voice… whatever it’s called. I’m not afraid to use it. You want me to call them through your pants?”

She stretched out her arm, dangling Nina over him.

Raphael gave her his phone.

Nina landed in his lap. He yelped, going rigid, as she circled to get comfortable. Her pin-prick nails dug into his legs.

He yelped, startled, as Lilith flopped down onto the furs beside him. “Your phone makes me sad,” she said, flicking between Michael, Gabriel, and Camael’s contacts. “You need to add stickers, or a nice case, or a keychain. Just, make it look less like an old man phone?”

“’s not an old man phone,” Raphael grumbled. Even if it was, wasn’t he technically an old man? But he liked his phone. It was black and white and plain and sturdy. It didn’t have any of those ridiculous extra things people added. Who needed pop-out things on the back? Or sparkly cases? Just seemed a waste of time and money to him. “I like it.”

He went cross-eyed as, Nina having curled up in his lap, Momo leaned forward to lick his nose.

“You make me sad,” Lilith said.

Lilith told him that a lot.

“Now lie down,” she pushed down on his chest. He went down with a grunt. Momo flopped forward, curling up on his chest, and immediately began to snore. Smoke puffed from his nostrils with every breath in time with the smoke pluming from Nina’s, like she were some tiny dragon.

“You are going to sleep,” Lilith said, twisting to rest her head on his shoulder, pinning him down, “for at least a few hours. Then you are going to relax for a few days.”

“But-”

“Raph, you’re a dick when you’re stressed. You want to blow all this up because someone asked you for a moment when you were trying to take a break? Angels are already trying to prove we’re not safe to be around.”

She did have a point. He sighed. Momo grunted, squirming to get comfortable. His nails dug into Raphael’s chest to hold him still.

“I don’t like you.”

Lilith grinned, knowing she’d won. “Love you too.” She flicked to Michael’s contact (that they had become fast friends worried him. They could take over Heaven, Hell, and Creation if they put their heads together) and pressed call.

He had a pocket-sized apex predator on his chest and another on his lap.

How she expected him to sleep, he had no idea.

#whumptember2023 #whumptember day 8 #day eight: lashing out #sicktember2023 #sicktember day 1 #sicktember day 19 #saudade #raphael #lilith #one-shot #original story #original writing #tw minor self harm #tw mentions of non consensual touching #sicktember 2023

[fanfictasia]

Sicktember Day 2

Quest for a Cure

Spoiler: This is an excerpt from The Chosen Twins

Anakin Skywalker

Thankfully, our stop there does turn out shorter than I thought it would be. The healer assures us that it wasn’t anything serious, and that while I’m already fine, Obi-Wan will take several more days to actually recover.

Which means, primarily bed rest, something he is very unhappy about it. That’s about the most they can offer him, though.

I go to track down Aniya as soon as I escape, because we have classes to be attending to.

“What happened?” Aniya asks, the moment we’re out and able to talk to each other again. The other padawans have moved along, as always. The only ones we really ever have to talk to are each other. That’s how it’s always been, and… I miss having other friends, but she and my masters are really all I need.

“He’s supposed to be resting, and I’m fine. We should probably check on him, though.” Because I couldn’t say if he’s following those recommendations, despite wanting a faster cure, even if it’s hardly my responsibility to watch over him.

“Race you!” she calls, gleefully and takes off before I can even reply.

“If Master Obi-Wan or Qui-Gon caught us racing through the Temple halls – !” I yell after her, but then give up and take off after. I am absolutely not letting her win this.

It’s not too much of a challenge, though, because I’m already taller than her.

She also has the inexplicable end-result of falling flat on her face every time she’s running, and when I skid past her and hear a momentary crash behind me, and I don’t pause to look back, even if I normally would. She’ll be fine. It’s not like we’re running on duracrete.

“How … do you… always… win,” Aniya puffs, skidding to a stop outside the door to Obi-Wan’s quarters one second behind me.

“How do you always manage to fall?” I ask, when I manage to catch my breath.

“How don’t you?” she shoots back. "Because sliding on dry ground is… weird.”

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #fanfiction #sicktember #sicktember 2023 #sicktember day two #sicktember day 2 #day two #day 2 #quest for a cure #anakin skywalker #anakin #anakin's twin #original characters #fluff #hurt/comfort #family #sicktember2023

[cuddlepilefics]

Pounding headache

Fandom: Ateez

Sickies: Hongjoong & Wooyoung

Caregiver: Seonghwa (+ San)

Sequel to 'But if you stay, you'll get sick too'

Prompt: @sicktember

No one’s POV.:

It hadn’t even been a full day since San had recovered from his bug and Hongjoong woke up feeling absolutely dreadful. As the sound of their morning alarm cut through the silence, the leader pulled his pillow over his had to block the noise, gritting his teeth. He heaved a sigh of relief when the noise stopped. Apparently, Seonghwa had shut it off and was now crouching next to the younger’s bed to make sure he’d get up too. The oldest lightly tugged the pillow off Hongjoong’s face, making the leader whimper. “I-I don’t think I’ll be getting up today”, Hongjoong hummed, his voice shaky. Gently carding the other’s hair back, Seonghwa agreed: “That might be for the best. You look awful.” The leader was sickly pale, his eyebags a stark contrast to the rest of his face. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”, the older whispered, resting his palm against Hongjoong’s forehead, “Gosh, you’re burning.” – “My head’s killing me”, Hongjoong breathed, closing his eyes again. He had a hard time focusing due to the pulsing in his head, slurring: “M-Might- It might be a migraine.” – “Not sure I agree with that”, Seonghwa muttered, chewing on his lip, “Your migraines don’t usually come with that high of a fever. Let me go grab the thermometer and fetch you some painkillers.”

Seonghwa’s heart dropped when he turned on the bathroom light and found another one of his dongsaengs draped across the toilet, the stench of vomit hanging heavy in the air. “Woo”, Seonghwa called softly, running his hand over the boy’s bare back. Wooyoung’s back was sticky with sweat and his skin hot to the touch. It took a moment for the older to rouse him but when he looked up and met his hyung’s eyes, he couldn’t help the tears filling his eyes. Sluggishly flushing the toilet, Wooyoung whimpered: “You should- You should leave, hyung. This is really- it’s really contagious.” – “Ssh, I know it is”, Seonghwa shushed as he wiped his dongsaeng’s tears, “Took Hongjoong down too. He ran a towel under lukewarm water and handed it to Wooyoung. “How long have you been up already?”, the oldest asked carefully, helping his friend clean himself up. Rubbing his face Wooyoung rasped: “Already? I didn’t manage to fall asleep before the puking started.” – “Oh dear, finish washing up and I’ll get you some water”, Seonghwa instructed, quickly snatching the thermometer and painkillers from the cabinet over the sink, “Be back in a second.”

Rushing back to his room, Seonghwa handed Hongjoong the thermometer and informed: “I’m pretty sure you managed to catch San’s bug. Wooyoung has been up for most of the night and fell asleep in the bathroom after throwing up. How does your stomach feel?” – “Well shit”, Hongjoong groaned, propping himself up on his elbow, “My stomach’s okay. It doesn’t hurt an’ I don’t feel like I need to be sick, it’s just a little fluttery. How’s Woo?” – “I’ll go back to him and bring him some water before I get him to bed”, Seonghwa explained, “Please take your temperature, I’ll check on you in a few.”

Carrying a cold bottle of water, Seonghwa returned to the bathroom and found Wooyoung sitting hunched over on the closed toilet lid. The younger had already started to brush his teeth, while hugging his cramping stomach with the other hand. He had heard the rest of the group bustling around the dorm as they all got up and knew he couldn’t occupy the bathroom forever. “Good job”, Seonghwa praised, helping him stand, so he could rinse his mouth. Splashing cold water into his face, Wooyoung shuddered and accepted the towel his hyung handed him. Uncapping the water bottle, Seonghwa whispered: “Do you think you can stomach a few sips?” When the younger nodded, he handed the bottle to him and watched him shakily lift it to his lips. “How about you lay down in my room? You and Hongjoong will have each other for company and we can minimize contagion among the rest of the group”, the oldest offered, studying his pale dongsaeng. Wooyoung nodded weakly. He didn’t really care where he’d lay down as long as he’d get to lay down soon. Being on his feet was exhausting.

“Here, get comfy”, Seonghwa instructed as he eased Wooyoung down on his bed, “I’ll call management to let them know what’s going on and then we can figure out what to do with you two.” Wooyoung tried to suppress a groan as he crawled under the blanket and drew his knees up to his chest. Watching the younger, Hongjoong hummed sarcastically: “If this isn’t an amazing way to start the day, I don’t know what is.” – “Hyung, please don’t make me laugh. It hurts”, Wooyoung snorted, cradling his sore tummy. Sitting up against the headrest, Hongjoong whispered: “Sorry. How’re you feeling, Woo?” A few beats of silence passed before the younger spoke up, voice trembling: “Awful, hyung. Everything hurts so much and my stomach just won’t stop churning. How are you so chill?! I’m pretty sure I’m dying.” – “You’re not dying”, the leader shushed, “My stomach is only a little upset, I can handle that but this pounding headache is about to drive me up the wall.” Hongjoong took a shaky breath, massaging his temples. “This is only a 24h-bug though. Sannie was fine in a day, so we’ll be fine too. It’ll pass soon, Woo. We can last 24h”, the older muttered, repeating it in his head like a mantra to help him endure the pain.

When Seonghwa returned, he brought a bucket for each of his dongsaengs despite Hongjoong protesting that his stomach was fine. “I got you a shirt, Woo, you can put that on if you feel cold. Hoodie is out of question though, we wouldn’t want to raise your fever”, the oldest informed, leaving the shirt at the foot of the bed, “You two are cleared for today and we’ll see if you’re up to go back to work tomorrow. I tried to convince them San’s still sick, so you would’ve someone to look after you but they wouldn’t let him take another day off. Is there anything we can get you before we have to leave?” Hongjoong shook his head and muttered that he was fine, while Wooyoung needed help putting on his shirt before Seonghwa had to get ready as he was already running late.

The door quietly creaked open and Hongjoong tiredly glanced up at San, the younger hesitating at the door. “I’m sorry I got you two sick and can’t even return the favor of taking care of you”, San hummed with a sad smile, “I got you an icepack for your head, hyung.” – “Thanks, Sannie”, Hongjoong breathed, as the younger draped the icepack over his forehead, “It’s okay. We’ll be fine in a bit.” Chewing on his lip, San took a seat on the edge of Seonghwa’s bed and gently ran his finger’s through Wooyoung’s sweaty hair. He handed the younger his own plushie, whispering: “Your cuddles helped me a lot and you’ll get cuddles as soon as I get back home tonight. Till then Shiber is going to stay with you, okay?” Wooyoung gave a pathetic nod as he hugged the comfort item to his chest. “Get back soon”, he pouted, his voice hoarse from throwing up.

Yunho brought them a pot of ginger tea along with two cups, while Yeosang left some crackers and water bottles on Hongjoong’s desk, so their friends would have everything they might need within reach. Seonghwa made sure they had their phones and chargers, so they’d be able to call for help but after that, the rest of the group really had to leave. Unsurprisingly, both Hongjoong and Wooyoung went right to sleep once the dorm grew quiet.

Wooyoung woke up disoriented, not quite sure what had pulled him from his slumber. Propping himself up on one elbow, he spotted Hongjoong sitting on the edge of his bed, head in his hands as the leader’s chest hitched with half-suppressed sobs. “Hyung?”, Wooyoung breathed, clumsily rolling out of bed, “What’s going on?” Grimacing, Hongjoong pressed his palms to his eyes and whimpered: “My head’s pounding and I- Woo, I can’t take it anymore. It- It hurts so fucking bad.” The younger took a seat next to him and gently traced his back. “Do you think you can stomach some crackers and tea?”, Wooyoung whispered, glancing at the desk, “You shouldn’t take medicine on an empty stomach.” Though hesitant, Hongjoong nodded and shakily exhaled as the movement made him dizzy. Wooyoung got to his feet again and poured his hyung a cup of warm tea before ripping open a pack of crackers.

“Here, sip this slowly”, the younger instructed, “Getting dehydrated will only make the pain worse.” Wrapping his trembling hands around the cup, Hongjoong took a small sip and closed his eyes. Only 24 hours. He’d be fine. When he started to nibble on one of the crackers, his stomach gave a loud growly but he couldn’t tell if he was hungry or not. Glancing up at his dongsaeng with teary eyes, the leader breathed: “You should drink something too. It’s okay if you don’t want to eat but I think you’re more likely to get dehydrated than me because-“ – “Do not finish that sentence!”, Wooyoung warned, not wanting to be reminded of the night he had had. Still he poured himself a cup of tea and sat down next to his hyung.

Hongjoong had just finished his fourth cracker, washing it down with another sip of tea, when Wooyoung asked: “Want the painkillers now?” Chewing on his lip as he contemplated it, the leader ended up shaking his head. “I-I think I’ll wait a few minutes. My stomach feels kinda weird now and ‘m not sure they’d stay down”, Hongjoong admitted, glancing at the bucket next to his bed. Wooyoung wordlessly rubbed his back as the older took slow calculated breaths in an attempt to calm his churning stomach. Glancing at the floor, Wooyoung pleaded: “Please don’t puke. If you do, I will too.” – “Trying my hardest”, Hongjoong forced out between gritted teeth, voice sounding flat. They sat like that for a few minutes, neither of them saying a word. Wooyoung was caught by surprise when the older urged: “Leave!”

Wooyoung didn’t need to be told twice, already shutting the bedroom door behind him when Hongjoong picked up the bucket. The leader choked on a sob as his blood thumped in his head. A spike of pain shot through his skull as he pitched forward with a retch. His grip on the bucket tightened as he braced himself against his bedside table, afraid he’d fall over with how his head had started to spin. Hongjoong tried to take a deep breath but choked as his throat contracted with a gag. More tears spilled down his flushed cheeks as a big wave rushed up his throat. It burned and the leader whimpered as he threw up again. The strain made his head pound, dark splotches appearing in his peripheral vision. Hongjoong struggled to get a full breath in between the waves and was almost certain he was going to faint when he finally caught a break. Spitting into the bucket one last time, he set it down and collapsed onto his side, legs still hanging off the bed as he panted.

It had been quiet for a bit, so Wooyoung hesitantly approached the leader’s bedroom door, fresh icepack in hand. When he went in, his stomach turned at the stench and he quickly resorted to breath through his mouth as he pushed the bucket out of the way with his foot. “Woo, I think I’m dying”, Hongjoong croaked pathetically as he looked up at his dongsaeng with glossy eyes. He was drenched in sweat, still dizzy from the ordeal, and his head felt like someone assaulted it with a pickaxe. Lifting the leader’s legs onto the bed, Wooyoung carefully pressed the icepack to the back of his neck and shushed: “You’re not dying, hyung. 24 hours, remember? It’ll be over soon.” Hongjoong only groaned at that. It didn’t feel like this would ever end and Wooyoung too doubted they could be okay within the next few hours. The younger could feel his stomach churn, the stuffy room and the lingering smell progressively getting to him as he stroked Hongjoong’s hair for comfort.

“I’m sorry”, Wooyoung choked out, stumbling over to the other bed. He crashed to his knees in front of it and hurriedly snatched the bucket off the floor. All he had left to throw up was bile at this point, which made it all the more painful. A trembling hand appeared on his back, giving it a light pat. Hongjoong had dragged himself over to his dongsaeng and shakily sat on the floor next to him, leaning his side against the bed. Resting his feverish cheek on the mattress, the leader ran his hand up and down Wooyoung’s spine as the younger heaved. Wooyoung gave a weak cough before pushing the bucket away. His throat was in shreds and now his head was pounding too. Leaning into Hongjoong’s touch, he sniffled: “This sucks.” The older hummed in agreement, neither of them finding the energy to get up off the floor and Wooyoung ended up falling asleep curled in his hyung’s lap.

Seeing how contagious the bug was, the group had already split up tasks before returning to the dorm. Yeosang and Jongho would be in charge of the group’s dinner, Yunho and Mingi would do the laundry because San already predicted a bunch of sweat-soaked sheets, while Seonghwa and San would take care of Hongjoong and Wooyoung. The oldest cringed as he opened the door to his and Hongjoong’s shared room. He was surprised when he found his dongsaeng’s on the floor though. Hongjoong woke up first, glossy eyes meeting Seonghwa’s, the exhaustion evident on his pale face. The leader lightly ran his fingers through Wooyoung’s hair, which woke the younger too. Tiredly sitting up, Wooyoung looked at Seonghwa and sniffled: “Tell San I hate him.” – “San heard you”, San hummed, pushing past their hyung to pull the younger into a hug, “I’m sorry, Woo.”

Once Seonghwa had helped Hongjoong back to bed and watched the leader drink a few sips of water, the oldest collect the buckets and went to rinse them out. He had been going over room arrangements in his head all day long, trying to figure out how to keep the rest of the group from catching this bug. Though Seonghwa didn’t want to face it, he knew he had already been exposed and his chances of evading it would be slim, so he’d sleep in his room alongside Hongjoong, while Yunho would take Wooyoung’s bed once they had changed the sheets. San would take Wooyoung to his room and give him the cuddles he had promised, so they had two contaminated and two ‘clean’ rooms.

San had scooped Wooyoung up bridal-style and carried him to his room, shushing: “I promised you cuddles, didn’t I? Or do you hate me too much for cuddles?” – “If you rub my tummy, I might not hate you quite as much”, the younger breathed, burying his face into San’s shoulder. Seonghwa made sure to bring them one of the buckets before returning the other to Hongjoong’s bedside. “Yeosang and Jongho made some broth for you and Wooyoung. Do you think you could sip some? It should keep you from getting dehydrated and also replenish your electrolytes”, Seonghwa whispered, running his hand through the leader’s hair. Barely lifting his pounding head, Hongjoong mumbled: “I can try. Anything to soothe this headache.” – “Alright”, Seonghwa smiled sympathetically, “I’ll be back in a moment.” The oldest sat with Hongjoong till he had sipped all of the broth and carefully tucked the leader in once he was done. The warm drink seemed to have soothed his stomach a bit and Hongjoong fell asleep as soon as Seonghwa told him to get some rest.

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