The kids who would rather spend their night with a bottle of coke & Patrick or Sonny playing on their headphones than go to some vomit-stained high school party.
Here’s to the kids whose 11:11 wish was wasted on one person who will never be there for them.
Here’s to the kids whose idea of a good night is sitting on the hood of a car, watching the stars.
Here’s to the kids who never were too good at life, but still were wicked cool.
Here’s to the kids who listened to Fall Out boy and Hawthorne Heights before they were on MTV…and blame MTV for ruining their life.
Here’s to the kids who care more about the music than the haircuts.
Here’s to the kids who have crushes on a stupid lush.
Here’s to the kids who hum “A Little Less 16 Candles, A Little More Touch Me” when they’re stuck home, dateless, on a Saturday night.
Here’s to the kids who have ever had a broken heart from someone who didn’t even know they existed.
Here’s to the kids who have read The Perks of Being a Wallflower & didn’t feel so alone after doing so.
Here’s to the kids who spend their days in photobooths with their best friend(s).
Here’s to the kids who are straight up smartasses & just don’t care.
Here’s to the kids who speak their mind.
Here’s to the kids who consider screamo their lullaby for going to sleep.
Here’s to the kids who second guess themselves on everything they do.
Here’s to the kids who will never have 100 percent confidence in anything they do, and to the kids who are okay with that.
Here’s to the kids.
This one’s not for the kids,
who always get what they want,
But for the ones who never had it at all.
It’s not for the ones who never got caught,
But for the ones who always try and fall.
This one’s for the kids who didnt make it,
We were the kids who never made it.
The Overcast girls and the Underdog Boys.
Not for the kids who had all their joys.
This one’s for the kids who never faked it.
We’re the kids who didn’t make it.
They say “Breaking hearts is what we do best,”
And, “We’ll make your heart be ripped of your chest”
The only heart that I broke was mine,
When I got My Hopes up too too high.
We were the kids who didnt make it.
We are the kids who never made it.
Synopsis: Jongin struggles to balance life as an idol and life as a father. His four year old son is growing up and beginning to notice his absence and attempts to find a fatherly figure in your boyfriend, Seunghyun.
Word count: 5,538
Characters: Kim Jongin a.ka Kai (EXO), Oh Sehun (EXO), Choi Seunghyun (BigBang), Kim Taeoh, and other EXO members.
Warnings: Eyebrow Shaving, Gum Stuck in Hair, Sehun’s dancing skills, and Taeoh and Kai’s cuteness.
The flight to Paris was horrible. It was ten hours of constant panic attacks from you, Taeoh fidgeting in his seat whining at the top of his lungs that he wanted to get off the plane, then there was Seunghyun who had lost his phone and made all the flight attendants help him look for it because he didn’t have a lock on his phone and had things in it that were not suitable for the public eye. To top it all off, you were sprawled on the bathroom floor of the plan for almost half of the trip vomiting because of altitude sickness.
When the three of you finally got off of the plane you were all half dead and beyond pissed off. You reeked of vomit and had dark circles under your eyes which contrasted your sickly green skin. Seunghyun had bags on every limb of his body and apart from having to hold Taeoh’s hand, he had to half-carry half-drag you through the airport because you were so weak your knees wobbled every time you took a step. Taeoh looked like a train wreck, his usually silk hair resembled a bird’s nest. He had snuck a piece of gum out of your purse and somehow managed to get it stuck in his hair. You were honestly too sick to care.
Seunghyun looks at you then Taeoh before chuckling to himself. “Thank god for masks.”
Your arm was going numb from where Yoongi had fallen asleep
on it, but you didn’t want to move for fear that you would wake him and the
dream would end. You had spent the
earlier part of the day nursing a hangover and a broken heart – remnants from
the night at the club. You spent most of
your waking hours thinking about how Yoongi had followed you into that alley
and how he had tried to take you away from that Mingyu guy. Weeks of not hearing a single word from him
and the first time you see Yoongi, he acts like a jealous lover. You weren’t sure how to feel about that. You had tried to tamp down any hopes that
this meant Yoongi still had feelings for you.
You had learned the hard way that he was not forthcoming with his
emotions and it was best to not try to read too much into his actions. Still, you had lingering hopes…
Later that night, when you heard a drunken Yoongi at your
door, screaming obscenities at you from the hallway, your heart started to
swell. You had dreamed of a day when he
would come crawling to you and begging you to take him back, but having Yoongi
banging his fist against your door while cursing your name seemed like an
acceptable alternative. Even hatred is a
sign of passion, you thought, and much better than being ignored.
Your roommate, Hyejin, had tried to stop you from opening
the door to him. She argued that you
deserved better than a man who ignores you for weeks and then shows up drunk
and yelling insults at you. She said
that the only reason Yoongi was here was because his pride was hurt when he
lost the fight outside the nightclub.
You knew she was probably right, but you couldn’t help but wonder if
maybe there was more to it. At the very
least, you wanted an opportunity to hear what Yoongi had to say.
Summary: At Tina’s Halloween party, you and your brother Joanthon take care of Steve and Nancy after they break up.
You nudged your brother Jonathon and nodded your head at your two best friends. Steve had just forced Nancy’s hand and spilled her drink all down the front of her blouse. The whole room went quiet and watched them disappear into the bathroom.
“Oh, shit what do you think is gonna happen?” you wiggle your eyebrows at Jonathon.
“They’re gonna make up, like they always do.” Jonathon mumbles, looking down. Just as the words came out of his mouth, Steve burst out of the bathroom door wiping at his face. You and Jonathon looked at each other, concern laced between your glance.
“Ready, break.” you whispered before squeezing Jonathon’s hand and running after Steve. You pushed through the crowd and managed to slip out the front door all while calling Steve’s name. He didn’t turn around, probably lost in his own little world. He stumbled up to his car, hand in his pocket trying to fish out his keys. As you got closer you heard him cursing under his breath, “Bullshit? I’m bullshit? That’s fucking BULLSHIT.” During his rant, his keys slip from his fingers and plop on the ground. Before he can even bend over, you snatch them up.
Steve regains his balance and blows up before your very eyes. “HEY, you son of a bitch gimme my fucking keys back before I knock your teeth on the floor!” Steve tries to make an advancement towards you, raising his fist. He only lowers it when he sees that it’s you. This is the first time you get a look at his face. His eyes are red and swollen from the mixture of alcohol and crying. His cheeks are covered with angry red blotches and his hair is sticking out in all directions instead of its normal smooth stature. You instantly wrap your arms around him and have to stagger as he instantly drops the majority of his bodyweight onto you.
Steve starts sobbing hysterically, ugly wails of pain are leaking from his mouth. “Shh, I’m here, it’s okay, I got you,” you whisper and slowly lead him to the passenger side of his car. Once he has all his extremities inside the car, you shut the door and rush around to the front. You plop yourself down in the driver’s side and start the car. Steve, still sniffling, reached out and grasped the hand that was nearest to him. You were too shocked to let go and dealt with driving one handed the rest of the car ride home.
When you arrived at Steve’s you pulled your hand gently out of his, which made him whine, and climbed out of the car.
“Are your parents home?” you asked when you had opened his car door. Steve said nothing but shook his head. The red blotches on his face were fading, but he did look a little greener. You quickly hauled him out of the car and made it all the way to the doorstep before he leaned over the bushes and promptly vomited. This caused another fit of sobbing and he couldn’t stop apologizing about throwing up. You hushed him softly, telling him it was okay.
“C’mon, let’s get you to the bathroom and we’ll get you cleaned up, how does that sound?” Steve nodded. After much pulling and convincing you set him down on the toilet, huffing and puffing. The color had returned to his face and he would have looked almost normal if not for his eyes. They were swollen and detached from the world. You swipe a hand through his hair, brushing it away from his face. A static races through your whole body and you struggle to defuse it, hating the fact that all you see in the broken boy in front of you is beauty. He is beautiful. Even looking like he has been losing a fight with pink eye in both of his spectacularly brown eyes.
You pull away and look for a washcloth under the sink, letting out a small squeal of joy when you locate one. You stand and your heart almost explodes as you see that Steve has stripped off his ruined shirt. You look away quickly and wet the cloth in your hands. You cup his face in your hand and gently wipe away the mixture of tear stains and vomit. He looks down out of embarrassment. You pull his chin back up gently and continue wiping his face clean. He closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at you and leans into your touch, needing your comfort.
You had just finished cleaning Steve up and convinced him to change into clean clothes and brush his teeth. You helped yourself to one of his T-shirts and slipped into bed beside him, propped up on pillows. He currently has your back to you and you almost thought he had fallen asleep when he sighs loudly.
“(Y/N)? Can I ask you something?” His voice startles you as he has not really spoken since he threatened to know your teeth out. You nod even though he can’t see you. He turns toward you and speaks again anyway. “Did we kill Barb? Are we just pretending everything’s okay? Are we…am I bullshit?” You see tears have started emerging from his eyes again and he curls up into your side, head resting on your stomach. You are taken back from his forwardness and get annoyed at yourself. He doesn’t like you, dumbass, he is just in pain and needs comfort, you think to yourself.
“No, Barb’s death was not your fault, we helped kill the thing that killed her, that’s something to be proud of! We aren’t just pretending everything is okay, we got through that together. We needed each other, just because Nancy was pretending doesn’t mean the rest of us were!” you state, wrapping your arm around his shoulders. The sound of her name sends a shiver through him and he nuzzles into you and you are praying he can’t hear your heart pounding in your chest. You can feel the quick beats all throughout your body, in your ears, all the way down to your toes.
“Do you feel any better? Like are you gonna throw up again?” you ask, running your fingers through his mop of hair, gently pulling out the tangles until it runs smoothly between your fingers.
“I don’t think I will, but please don’t go,” he mumbles the last part and holds you tighter as if he is afraid you’ll disappear.
“Okay, I won’t,” you can practically hear the excitement in your voice as you continue, “I just wanted to make sure I don’t have to worry about waking up in vomit.” You hear a soft snort escape his lips and smile at your tiny victory. He says nothing and it’s not long before you hear his breaths stretch longer. In his sleep, he has loosened his grip on you but is still lying with his head resting on your body. You continue to play with his hair and try not to let those greedy thoughts in. You’re his friend, he just got dumped for God’s sake! You roll your eyes into the dark and huff softly.
The sunlight streams in through the window and irritates your eyes, forcing you to open them. The room around you looks unfamiliar and you try to sit up only to be held down by a very large, very warm boy. Steve is already awake and pulls away to look at you.
“Good morning,” he says, his voice cracking from sleep. His eyes are a little swollen but significantly less red.
“Good morning? Is it morning? What time is it? Are we late for school?” you scramble, still trying to sit up. Steve removes his body from you, hesitating and you can see the discomfort in his eyes.
“I awoke up a while ago, I just thought I’d let you sleep, since you were up half the night making sure I didn’t choke on my own vomit.” he looks down. “I’m sorry, I would have waken you…”
“Oh no, it’s okay,” you comfort, reaching and touching his arm. “I can afford to take a day off, plus I would have been useless, I need at least 9 hours of sleep before I can function.”
He laughs and takes your hand in his. He squeezes it and says, “Thank you for last night, I was a mess and I don’t know what would have happened to me if you hadn’t helped me. Thank you.” You blushed at his comment and looked down.
“It was no big deal, I just wanted to make sure you didn’t crash and die.”
“And because of you, I am home safe.” You look up at him and hold his eye contact for a second too long. You can’t stop yourself from leaning in and he does the same. Right when you get within two inches of each other, you hear a door opening downstairs and his mother’s voice calling, “Steve, honey, are you sick? Why aren’t you at school?” You two break apart and he stands from the bed quickly.
“I’ll go say I was too sick and then how bout I bring us some breakfast, does that sound okay?” You nod still unable to look at him in the eye. In one quick motion he leans down and pecks your cheek and then blush rises up again but by the time you look up, Steve has raced from the room. My God, what have I gotten myself into? You think to yourself as you hear the muffled conversation of mother and son downstairs.
Fallout 4 Companions Get A Pip Boy Of Their Very Own
I accidentally deleted the ask this was attached to, but luckily I wrote it down in the notes on my phone! Here is the ask:
“Companions react to Sole being the creator of the pip boy and had just enough materials to make one for them or just ask Vault 81 and it has modifications for the companions including Strong preferably without destroying the pip boy.”
Cait: When Sole had asked her to go run an errand for them in Diamond City she thought it was rather odd, but she trusted Sole and decided not to say anything. Little did she know what Sole was up to. When she returned with a military circuit board she couldn’t hide the scowl on her face. Sole had really sent her just to grab a piece of pre-war junk? The whole way back she had thought up just how she was going to tell off Sole for making her do this. When she walked into Sole’s workshop before she could utter a word Sole took the board with a quick thanks and went back to their workbench. Whatever Sole was doing they appeared to be putting the finishing touches on it. Just as she was going to say something Sole was putting a dark brown, almost red pip-boy on her arm. “What do ya think yer doing?” She asked looking from Sole to the pip boy on her wrist then back to Sole. When they told her they’d been building her a pip boy she felt all the anger drain out of her. Sole went through all this trouble to make her a pip boy? She couldn’t stop the grin that crept its way onto her face and she pulled Sole into a playful headlock before they could stop her.
Codsworth: When Sole went off to work on their secret project Codsworth found he had plenty to do while they were tinkering away in their workshop. Just the other night Sole had thrown a little party and Piper had drunk just a tad too much. Luckily Codsworth was used to cleaning up vomit stains with how much Shawn used to spit up. After about an hour of scrubbing he’d finally gotten the stain out when he heard Sole call out to him, “Codsworth, can you come here?” In an instant he was at Sole’s side as they presented him with a chrome finished pip boy. Before he could say anything Sole had attached it to one of his arms. This was sweet of them, but why would a robot like him need a pip boy? Sole knew what he was thinking before he even said it as they went into great detail about all of the features and benefits they put into his pip boy. “Oh Sir/Mum, you certainly know how to make a robot feel loved.”
Curie: Curie had just gotten back to Sanctuary after having helped train some Minute Men in basic field medic skills. Preston had asked her and she was glad to help him. She was also glad to be back home. The first thing she wanted to do was find Sole and tell them how well everyone did. She wasn’t surprised to see Sole hunched over their workbench. She knocked gently on the open door and Sole turned grinning once they saw her, “Curie! Perfect timing, I have something for you.” Stepping into Sole’s workshop she peered over Sole’s shoulders as they put the finishing touches on a lavender pip boy. Curie gasped as Sole took her hand and put the pip boy on her wrist. She wiped away a tear as she looked at the shiny new pip boy on her wrist. Just when she thought Sole couldn’t be any kinder they go and do something like this. Leaning over she placed a kiss on Sole’s cheek and thanked them.
Danse: When Sole said they wanted to take the day to work on something he didn’t mind. A day off would give him time to work on his power armor. He’d been doing just that for a couple of hours before he felt Sole tap on his shoulder. Wiping the sweat off his face with his arm he turned to see Sole smiling at him. He smiled back before he looked down to see them holding a pip boy out to him. His jaw dropped and he watched in silence as they put it on his wrist. They told him how they made it out of an old piece of their power armor and had been wanting to make him one for some time. He wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve someone as sweet as Sole, but he was glad he had them. He grabbed Sole pulling them into a sweaty hug. He whispered thank you into their hair and Sole found they didn’t mind how sweaty he was.
Deacon: “You almost done in there? I can feel myself withering away from boredom!” Again Sole didn’t reply to him and he sank back into Sole’s couch with a huff. He’d been trying to sneak in on Sole to see what they were working on all day to no avail. Even when he’d dressed up as Sturges and walked in claiming to need a wrench from Sole’s workbench they shooed him out. He’d practiced Sturges southern drawl for nothing. Just as he was contemplating wiping out his Mama Murphy disguise Sole walked in carrying a black pip boy with a white lantern painted on it. Without a word Sole clipped it to his wrist and smiled at him. Sole always managed to catch him off guard like this. He knew he needed to start talking before he started tearing up, “You know I found one of these on a dead guy back in the capital wasteland…” Deacon went into extensive detail about this wild story involving the enclave and a bunch of guys all named Gary. Sole humored him and listened to his ridiculous story not really sure if he actually liked the gift or not. When Sole got up claiming to need to clean up their workbench Deacon’s hand shot out as he grabbed their arm and thanked them. He may be a liar, but he’ll always be honest with Sole when it counts.
Dogmeat: Laying by Sole’s feet while they worked was something Dogmeat was used to doing. They were a busy person, but he did wish they’d relax so he could snuggle up to them. When he heard Sole let out a triumphant shout he looked up at them cocking his head to the side. They looked down at him with a smile and patted his head. Leaning down Sole placed a collar around his neck that had a pip boy LED screen built into it. “There! Now I can keep track of your vitals.” Dogmeat wasn’t sure what Sole was talking about, but a shiny new collar sure was nice. He licked Sole’s hand which earned him another pat on the head.
Gage: He didn’t mind waiting for Sole while they tinkered on random junk, but they’d been working for hours now. His gun had been taken apart, cleaned, and reassembled about 20 times now. He was just about to go in and check on them when they came out holding a pip boy that was the same shade of yellow as his armor. He grinned at them as he took the pip boy from them, “Aw Boss, you shouldn’t have.” As it clicked around his wrist he couldn’t help but smile at Sole. He wasn’t used to people doing anything for him, but Sole always had a way of surprising him with nice gestures. As the pip boy flicked to life he tussled Sole’s hair with a grin. Sole was showing him how to work it, but he was having a hard time focusing. He couldn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day.
Hancock: He wasn’t really sure why Sole needed “alone time” it seemed a little strange to him, but he respected them wanting some space. Relaxing into Sole’s couch he twirled his knife between his fingers as he stared off into space. It’d only been an hour or so when Sole came rushing in all excited. Before he knew it Sole was putting a dark red pip boy on his wrist. He stared dumbfounded at if for a couple minutes before saying anything, “Is this what you were doing with your alone time? I just thought you went off to rub one out.” He chuckled as he wrapped an arm around their shoulders. He always commented on how good Sole was with their hands, but this really takes the cake. Hancock didn’t understand science, but he certainly understood how sweet of a gesture this was.
MacCready: Sole had told him to wait in his room while they worked on something that apparently he couldn’t know about. He tried to busy himself reading through some of the comics Sole had grabbed for him throughout the wastes, but he couldn’t stop wondering what Sole could be working on. Why couldn’t he know about it? Was it secret work for one of the faction leaders? Or maybe they were building some kind of strange weapon? His mind was racing with all the possibilities and he soon found himself slipping out of his room over to Sole’s workshop. As she slowly snuck his way over to Sole he was rather glad he had a small frame since it made his steps that much softer. “Mac, I know you’re there.” Well so much for quieter steps… He stood up with an exasperated sigh. He hadn’t even made it close enough to try to peek at whatever Sole was working on. “Why can’t you just tell me what you’re working on? Who am I gonna tell about it? The tin can?” He grumbled crossing his arms like a kid who just found out they weren’t getting a cookie after dinner. Sole chuckled lightly before tossing something to him. He snatched it out of the air and couldn’t believe his eyes. It was a camo pip boy and it actually worked! He looked up at Sole wide-eyed, “Is…is this for me?” When Sole nodded he couldn’t even try to contain his excitement. He had his very own freaking pip boy! Wait until Duncan sees this.
Nick: “Kid, where are you?” Nick had been looking for Sole for what felt like hours. Ellie had a new case, something about a ghoul needing help finding a long lost pre-war treasure or something, but Sole was nowhere to be found. “Over here!” He sighed in relief when he heard Sole call out from their workshop. He should’ve known they’d be working there. As he strolled in, case in hand, he saw Sole holding out a tan pip boy with the pink “Valentine’s Detective Agency” sign painted on it. “Well, what do we have here?” He smiled taking the pip boy from them. Sole smiled at him proudly as they helped him with it, “It’s supposed to go on your left hand, but since yours is metal I modified it to go on your right.” Nick wasn’t quite sure why a synth like him would need a pip boy, but he wasn’t complaining. “I’ll be sure to put it to good use.” Having a portable radio would certainly make it easier for Ellie to relay new cases to him. Plus, it was a gift from Sole that he could have with him always.
Old Longfellow: A day off where he could relax with a nice drink while Sole worked on…whatever it was they were working on, sounded perfect to him. Sole was always working on something, so he wasn’t really curious as to what it could be. At least he wasn’t until Sole was dragging him off to show him what they’d been working on. They were talking a mile a minute, so he only caught a few words here and there, but he definitely heard the word present in there. Had Sole been making something for him. Sole was placing his hands over his eyes insisting on surprising him with it and surprised he was. When Sole placed a navy blue pip boy in his hands he was utterly baffled. “You made this yourself?” Sole then went into a rather long-winded explanation about working on pip boys back before the war. He tried to keep up with what they were saying, but his attention was rather focused on the pip boy now clipped onto his wrist. “Do you think I can get sea shanties on this radio?”
Piper: When Sole said they had to go work on something in private she immediately started peppering them with questions. Trying to keep a secret from an investigative reporter was damn near impossible. Sole finally convinced Piper to leave it alone when they told her it was a surprise for her. At first she thought they’d picked up on all the hints she’d been dropping about her printing press being on the fritz, but when Sole handed her a pip boy the same color as her scarf she was ecstatic. “Blue, this is amazing! How did you make this?” As Sole explained how they’d been collecting scrap for months now she felt bad for always judging Sole on every piece of junk they picked up. She vowed to never make another remark about what Sole picks up on their travels again.
Preston: A minuteman runner had just informed Preston of another settlement that needed some defenses set up. After thanking them he set off to find Sole. He spotted Sole bent over their workbench and headed over to them. “General, I just got word of another set-” He stared down at the blue pip boy with a white minute man symbol painted on it that Sole was working on. Looking up at Sole questioningly he waited for them to explain. As Sole went on to say how they’d been working on it for him for quite some time he started to blush. Sole put so much thought into this… They made this just for him… Sole strapped the pip boy onto his wrist and Preston grabbed their hand squeezing it gently, “Thank you.” Preston was rather misty-eyed as he set it to radio freedom.
Strong: When Sole came up to Strong grinning like crazy he grew suspicious. Usually, a grin like that meant they wanted him to tag along on some crazy quest to help some rando in the wastes. The fact that they were clearly holding something behind their back didn’t help to quell his suspicions. When they pulled a pip boy out from behind their back with a loud, “Tada!” he was at a loss. It was just like the one they had except much larger and in a nice shade of green. Sole took his arm and clipped it to his wrist telling him to try it out. Strong brought his wrist up to his face and booted it up. Sole went on to explain how they had modified their original design for supermutant anatomy, but Strong couldn’t really focus on what they were saying. They had made this for him… No one had ever made something for him before… Looking up from his pip boy he grabbed Sole wrapping them in a tight bear hug. Sure it was hard for Sole to breathe, but at least Strong was happy.
X6-88: He had just finished polishing up his laser rifle when he realized he hadn’t seen Sole all day. Usually, they would bound up to him and drag him off into the wastes for some reason or another, but today was surprisingly quiet. Too quiet. He wandered around Sanctuary looking around for Sole when he saw them bent over their workbench. “Sir/Ma’am, what’re you doing?” Sole jumped at the sound of his voice before turning and smiling at him. “Well, I’ve been working on a little something for you.” X6 raised his eyebrow as he watched Sole grab a white pip boy with the institute symbol on it. They held it out to him with an expectant look. He hesitated, looking at them for a moment before taking it from them. Sole nudged him telling him to try it on. Latching the pip boy to his wrist he began flicking through the screens, “This is unnecessary…” Sole put up their hand cutting him off, “It’s a gift. It would be rude not to accept it.” X6 wasn’t sure why Sole would do this for him, but he thanked them none the less. Sole could’ve sworn they saw the corner of his mouth curl up in a smile.
God is dead on the ladies third floor bathroom and I wish someone could make the vomit stains and sweat slick hair poetic for me, but God made a mistake and if she were still breathing I don’t even think she could tell us what it was or how she ended up curved over the bowl of a toilet. how does one fall so far? is there something tempting in the experience of humanity or is it death that is so alluring as to bring a God from their kingdom?
There was crying coming from the bedroom down the hall. Bucky was always on his guard, but on nights like tonight, when he was the only parent in the house, he was barely able to sleep.
While his wife was away on business, he was the sole carer of their three-year-old daughter Megan, a tiny little thing with a mass of dark hair like his and the hyperactive energy of her mother.
Megan’s sobs had woken him with a start, her desperate and high pitched cries for him making his heart feel like it was shedding its own flesh.
Yanking on a shirt and roughly rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Bucky rushed to Megan’s room. It was a pink explosion, with a night light that made the room a warm purplish colour.
As he pushed the door open, he spied the little girl sat up in her bed, cheeks red and damp with tears, mouth stained with what was undoubtedly vomit. Vomit that was all over her clothes and bed-sheets.
‘Daddy!’ she wailed.
Bucky ran over and carefully removed her from her bed, cradling her close to him, despite the pungent smell of vomit that now stained the front of her pyjamas and the bedsheets. Her little hands clung around his neck tightly, her face buried in the crook of his neck.
He kissed her forehead, which burned beneath his lips and gently reminded her that Daddy was there and he was going to take good care of her.
‘What happened, baby?’ he asked when Megan was finally calm enough to only be reduced to hiccuping and a few small sniffles.
‘Sick. My tummy hurts,’ she mumbled, burying her face shyly into his shoulder again.
Bucky tensed, briefly wondering whether this was enough for him to call 911 and take her to the hospital.
Instead, he decided to try and clean up the mess. He drew up a warm bath for Megan so she could clean up, leaving her for a few moments to strip the bed and dump the sheets- and her pajamas- into the hamper to be washed.
Kneeling carefully beside the tub, he gently washed her face with a flannel and stroked her hair, removing all traces of vomit from her. His poor baby. She didn’t get sick often, and now as she shivered and sniffled, all he wanted to do was bear the illness for her so she could be up and running around again.
‘Here’s what we’ll do, baby,’ he promised gently, ‘You can come and get tucked up with me in the big bed, okay? And then in the morning, we can watch some movies and colour. You just need to rest and take some medicine.’
Megan nodded sleepily, her eyes already half closed. With a half smile, Bucky lifted her out of the bath and gently swaddled her in a fluffy white towel. She curled up closely to him and when he pressed a kiss to her tiny button nose, she giggled happily.
Carrying her easily in his arms, Bucky retrieved a new set of pyjamas and took Megan into the master bedroom, glad that he was getting to share the large bed with at least one of his girls.
His wife being away meant that the sprawling mattress got pretty lonely sometimes, and he would be the first to admit he liked to cuddle.
It didn’t take much to coax Megan into her new set of pyjamas, and when she’d finally settled a bit, Bucky tucked her tightly under the covers, sat on his lap, her head resting against his chest.
‘You sleepy, baby?’ he asked, gently stroking her mop of soft hair. She shook her head.
‘Wakey-wakey,’ she replied with a tell-tale yawn. He couldn’t help but suddenly smile.
‘Well, why don’t we do something that’ll make you sleepy, hm?’
He knew from very long experience that there was only one thing that would make both him and his daughter fall asleep quicker than anything else- playing with each other’s hair.
There was a gentle smile from his sickly little darling and she sat up in his lap, gently crawling around so that she was sat up around his broad shoulders.
‘Can I do your hair, Daddy?’
‘Of course, baby.’
Megan grinned happily, picking up a few stray hair ties that his wife always kept on the bedside table and began to gently tug her fingers through his long hair. It was one of the many reasons he had never cut it, especially when Megan had been born- it was too much fun allowing his daughter to style it on their lazy days.
The pair of them must have fallen asleep however, for when the morning came, he was woken by a wriggling on his chest. When Bucky opened his eyes, he was blinded by the light from the curtains. His wife was stood next to the bed, tying the curtains away from the window. Bucky smiled sleepily up at her.
‘You’re home early.’
She smiled. ‘I got an early flight home. When I went in to check on Meggy, she wasn’t there.’
His wife gently ran her hand over Megan’s fluffy hair. The little girl sniffled and glanced up.
Wriggling happily up from her father’s chest, Megan leaped into her mother’s arms, holding her close. After a little while, Bucky sat up, grinning happily. In the moment’s silence, his wife began to giggle.
‘What?’ Bucky asked.
Instead of telling him what in particular made her laugh, his wife gently turned to their cuddly daughter and brushed her thumb over Megan’s cheek.
‘You braided his hair?’
Megan nodded sleepily as Bucky reached up to find that his long hair had been twisted into little braids that stuck up all over his head.
‘I think you look beautiful, my love,’ his wife said with a grin, pressing a kiss to Megan’s head as she slid onto the bed beside them.
Bucky put his arm around her, the other pressing against Megan’s back, and reveled in the sensation of being with his two favourite girls once again.
Summary: The Reader finds out that it’s Carl’s birthday so she plans a smutty night, but ends up throwing up all over him.
Characters: The Reader and Carl
POV: Second Person
Warnings: Smutty Stuff/Disgusting Stuff (It probably won’t bother you guys tho, vomit is not as bad as Glenn’s death. That was disgusting.)
Let’s Just Be Sick
It was Carl’s 17th birthday. You had been counting for months, trying to figure out which day it was and you were about 85% sure it was today. Carl had no idea it was his birthday, but you were very ready. He was out on a run and wouldn’t be back until late into the evening so you got ready for his return. A few months back Maggie had found a lingerie store untouched by the walkers and seemingly not scavenged. You decided to pick out a few outfits to surprise Carl and his birthday was the perfect occasion. After you got into the matching lingerie set you put on one of Carl’s flannels and looked in the mirror. You were so excited that your stomach was churning with nervous giddy. You looked fabulous, his jaw was going to drop when he saw you.
“I’m so tired.” Carl was home. You practically leapt onto the bed nervously placing your hair over your shoulder. Your stomach gurgled again and you shrugged it off, almost squealing in delight. The door squeaked open,
“Y/N, I am so-woah!” His eyes grew to the size of watermelons and you smirked at him.
“Hey, baby.” You whispered seductively. You slowly slithered off the bed, making sure to reveal as much skin as possible. As you walked towards him his face turned red and you ran your fingers through your hair. “What’s wrong?” You asked mischievously, biting your lip and tilting your head to expose more of your neck to his naked eye. Running your hands up his arms, you stopped them at his neck, cupping it. You looked up into his eyes; black with lust, for a moment before placing achingly slow kisses on his neck. Each moved up farther to his ear, where you softly nibbled before whispering in his ear, “Don’t you wanna play with your birthday present?”
Carl backed up, his eyebrow raised and his hands held out in shock.
“What are you talking about?” You smiled and used your nimble fingers to take his hat from his head and you placed it on yours.
“It’s your birthday, silly.” You whispered gently gripping the front of his shirt, drawing your foot up and down the inside of his leg.
“What? It’s not my birthday? We don’t even know the date.” You giggled at him.
“Oh, but I do. I know a lot of things.” You rose your right leg higher, grinding it into his crotch.
“Mmm.” He moaned and you started kissing the bottom of his chin. Suddenly you felt your stomach grumble again. It almost felt like you were going to vomit, but sometimes you felt like that when you were excited so you brushed it off. “God am I so fucking happy you figured out it was my birthday.” You smiled and he brought your body flush against his, capturing your lips in a wet, messy kiss. That’s when you felt it again, but this time stronger. You carried on, wrapping your leg around his waist when you felt something come up in your throat. You broke the kiss, uncomfortably.
“Carl-” Your sentence was stopped by your turkey and pasta dinner, blowing out of your mouth in vile chunks, all over Carl. You groaned, trying to regain your composure, “Carl, I am so so-” Again. All over him and this time, dripping all down yourself. He walked behind you and held you, rubbing your back.
“Just get it out, get it out, baby.” Tears formed in your eyes. You ruined your whole night and you ruined Carl’s birthday. It was the only day of the year about him and you pretty much desecrated it. You looked up at Carl, ashamed, but before you could say anything he picked you up and walked you into the bathroom. As soon as you got in there he placed you on the toilet and turned on the bath.
“Carl, I- I’m so sorry. I-I-I can d-do it. Just let me, i-it’s yo-your birthday.” He didn’t say anything, he just turned around and started taking off your clothes. He didn’t say anything, you just did what he wanted, afraid he was angry at you for ruining his special day. After he disrobed you completely, he put you in the bath and sat on the outside.
He grabbed the washcloth on the side of the bath and dunked it in the water. Gently massaging your back with the cloth he kneaded circles into your back and down your arms. Moving downward he began to rub the small of your back and the round of your ass. Then sweeping his strokes up and down your long legs. When he go to your feet he scrubbed each toe and then dragged the towel back up to your core. Although your night started out sexual, he painted your core with compassionate brush strokes of tender love. Dressing your smooth curves with his sweet caresses he moved upwards. Reaching your breasts he took one at a time, rolfing and kneading each, careful to show each as much love as the other.
Placing the towel back on the side of the bath he poured shampoo into his hand and delicately scrubbed your scalp. Dragging his fingers through your long, beautiful hair, he handled it like the finest Chinese silk. After washing all the soap out, he walked out of the room. Within minutes he was back, a towel and a bowl of slightly warm soup in hand. He turned off the water and wrapped you in the towel, after patting down your body so you wouldn’t be cold. Picking you up, he took you back into your bedroom and into your bed. Carl quickly brought you the soup and a shirt of his that you put on. After setting you up he went back to cleaning and you watched. In a few minutes you finally said something.
“Carl, just stop. You had a terribly hard day of work and you come home to cleaning up after me. He stopped walking towards your vomit stain to clean up the mess.
“Baby, don’t feel bad, you can’t help being sick.” You started to cry again.
“I completely ruined your birthday. You’ve been working non-stop, I should be the one cleaning up after you. You didn’t even put on clean clothes, you still have my vomit all over them.” He walked back over to you and put his hand on your thigh.
“No, baby, it’s just my birthday.” You started hyperventilating, but you pushed yourself off the bed and walked over to the stain to clean it up. Before you could pick it up you lost your balance and Carl caught you.
“Get off of me, I can do it myself.” He scoffed and gave you a look of exasperation.
“Y/N, you’re so dizzy you can’t walk. You can’t clean up, okay. I know you’re upset that it’s my birthday, but you physically can’t.” You hit his chest so he picked you up and placed you back in the bed. This time you didn’t fight him, you just laid there. He went back to cleaning up your chunks of vomit and you continued to cry. After a few good minutes of silence you poked a hole through the wall dividing you and whispered to him.
“Carl, I love you. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life. You mean more to me than my life, you’re my family. I-I just want you to be happy. I just wanted this night to be amazing, for once I wanted you to be at peace. I wanted you to lean on me so that your pain could become ours and that we could make it into happiness. I hate everyday, watching you work your ass off, struggling, with the world, with everything that’s happened over the years, over your eye, over who we’ve become. I just wanted to take that pain away, make you forget with a special birthday surprise, but instead of doing that I just gave you the worst present in the history of birthday gifts.” Carl turned around to you, his face contorted in a melancholy expression and his eyes filled with love.
“Baby, I don’t care that it’s my birthday. You are my love and you are worth everything I have, everything I am. I didn’t even know about my birthday until I got home and you told me, but to be honest, I don’t really care. Not because I don’t care about you and not because I don’t care about that very, very, very sexy outfit you were wearing, but because you are all I need. Whether it’s my birthday or not, you are all I need, all I want. You wanted to make today special, but you make everyday special. Your smile you can make any day amazing. You, are what I look forward to everyday. You are what keeps me going, not some silly birthday. I just want to love you, give you everything you deserve for making me so happy. If that means cleaning up your vomit and washing your hair, then I will do it. A million times over again I will do it, for you.” You were crying again, but this time for a different reason. Your heart was on fire and you were entranced by the beauty of his loving eyes. As soon as he realized you were crying he ran over to the bed.
“Baby don’t cry.” You started giggling at his reaction.
“Carl, I’m not sad anymore.” His face relaxed.
“Oh.” He sighed, relieved.
“I love you, silly.” He rolled his eyes, faking annoyance.
“I love you, too, you butt face.” You jaw dropped in fake shock.
“You are so mean.” You teased and he chuckled.
“Yeah, but at least I don’t throw up all over my boyfriend as a birthday gift.” You shrugged.
“Well, you always say how much you like being inside me so I decided to bring my insides out to you.” He scrunched up in his nose in disgust and you laughed at him.
“Just come here.” It was your turn to be grossed out.
“No, you have vomit all over you.” He put his hands in the air.
“Fine, I’ll go get cleaned up.” You smiled.
“Good.” He frowned.
“But only, because I’d really like to see you in those panties when you get better.” You bit your lip and he groaned.
“Baby, please don’t do that, even when you’re sick I can’t take it.” You sat up and kissed him passionately.
“Let’s have a do-over birthday.” You said with a smile. His grin was larger than any you’d ever seen before.
“Yes, please. I want to get out of those red panties and not because you vomited all over yourself.” You giggled.
“Ye-Carl!” Once again you threw up all over yourself and Carl. After you finished he picked you up and took you back into the bathroom.
“C’mon, let’s get you back in.” You frowned.
“What?” You turned your head to look him in the eye.
“Get in with me. I may have ruined your birthday, but we can still have a nice night. If you know what I mean.” You wiggled your eyebrows suggestively and he chuckled.
“Don’t mind if I do.” He said, teasingly pulling up the shirt you were wearing to take a peek under. You giggled at him and slapped his hand away.
“Nah-ah-ah.” He frowned.
“You are such a tease.” You rolled your eyes and suddenly his eyes bulged out of his head.
“What’s wrong, Carl?” Carl sprinted to the toilet and spilled his guts into the bowl. You ran after him, holding back his hair for him.
“Baby, it’s okay. Get it out.” When he finished he slumped against the wall and you stroked his hair.
“Now you got me sick.” He grumbled. You frowned.
“Yeah, but now we can be together. And Carl Grimes, you are all I want for my birthday.” He raised his eyebrows.
“But it isn’t your birthday.” You hit his shoulder.
“Carl, I was trying to be cute.” He smiled.
“But you already are, especially when you’re naked.” You shrugged your shoulders and stood up, grabbing the bottom of your shirt.
“Well, it is your birthda-” You threw up a third time, this time in the toilet. “Yeah, maybe we should save that stuff for your do-over birthday.” He chuckled.
More than what it seems, yes it’s gross I still have a vomit stain on my bedroom floor. There is so much more to the story though. My daughter threw up here. My daughter struggled for peace here. My daughter wanted to die here. She took a bottle of pills here. She had just gotten out of the mental hospital. She had lost all hope here. This is where my daughter almost died, and the almost part is what I am so grateful for. I see that spot and know that it may be what saved her from death. I see the spot and remember how sad she had become. I see it and think about how happy she is now just months later. It is a sad memory with a good outcome (I never say ending, mental illness will do that to you). I think now to the day recently that we had lunch and she tells me how happy she is that she didn’t die. I love my daughter and am so happy she is still here with us. My advice to her following this attempt was, if it feels that bad, do whatever it is that will make you happy. What do you have to loose?
Rick groaned, slowly lifting himself down into his bed, sheets and blankets everywhere, beer and vomit stains here and there. It smells disgusting. Rick grunted, his back sore from the recent adventure he had gone to with Morty. He looked up at the ceiling, his eyes half lidded, as his mind slowly wonders onto the thought of Morty, at how he looked as he laughed, laughing at how Rick did something stupid, as he hardly did anything stupid before. A smile crept upon Ricks face, chuckling softly. He slowly stopped ‘that’s the third time I’ve thought about that’ he thought, sitting up, he put his elbows on his knees, his head in the palm of his hands, as he stared at the floor. His eyes wide, drool coming down from his lip. Rick didn’t know what was going on, but he knew every time he thought of Morty, his heart raced, and he was happy. Oh no. Rick inhaled and exhaled, did he have feelings for the kid? He knew he did, he felt this way before. But why? Why with Morty? His Grandson. Rick shook his head “no no no no..” He thought out loud, standing up, he quickly walked to his door, opening it harshly. He looked down at Morty, who was just about to knock on the door “M-Morty?! W-w-what are you do-eeeuggh-ing here?” His eyes were a bit wide, surprised to see him “o-oh, hey r-rick. I just c-c-came to tell you that suppers ready” Morty stuttered, feeling confused as to why Rick looked so surprised. Rick sighed and rubbed his forehead “Morty, I’m sorry but I don’t h-h-have time for supper, I have some th-Uuurup-things to do” Rick burped, as he moved Morty out of the way before quickly dashing to the garage “ah! W-well okay..” Morty said sadly, not sure what’s up.
Rick sat at his desk, he had his head in his hands, as he mumbled nonsense words. He couldn’t get his mind off of Morty, he felt his heart pound, which was bad for his health, but he couldn’t stop it. He tried to calm himself down, as he began building whatever, anything to keep his mind off the child. After almost a whole two hours, drinking beer in between minutes, he finished making a machine that turned anything plastic into gold (I had nothing else in mind, deal with it) Rick looked at the finished project, as he glared slightly at it. He stood back and took a few swigs of beer, a knock on the door as he looked over “who is- Uurrrp- it?” He looked away, putting the useless machine away “u-uh, it’s me g-grandpa Rick” Morty opened the door, looking at his grandpa who was now sitting down, ignoring him. Morty felt his throat tighten as he swallowed his saliva, ready to speak “w-w-what were you work-working on Rick? You seemed p-pretty busy” Morty asked, looking at Rick who just sat at his desk “just a useless m-machine, Morty” Rick responded “O-oh..okay then..” Morty scratched his arm, not sure what’s gotten into Rick. Rick just chugged the rest of the beer before tossing the empty bottle with the rest of the empty bottles around him “say Morty..” “Y-yes Rick?” Mortys eyes lit up, looking at Rick who was still not facing him “erm..nothing, n-never-uuurp-mind” Rick stood up, looking to face Morty who was looking up at Rick “oh..w-well alright” Morty looked confused. Ricks eyes were half lidded, as he still had the drool on his lip, he was a bit wobbly. Morty gulped, blinking “R-rick?” He questioned, as Rick walked over to Morty, a bit wobbly. Rick stopped in front of Morty, looking down at the boy as he stared down at him. He slowly opened his mouth, before closing it. Morty looked up at Rick, his knees weak. Rick slowly moved closer to Mortys face, stopping as he realized what he was doing. He quickly put his hand on Mortys head, smiling as he ruffled the brunette hair “you did good today Morty, k-keep-uuuurp- it up” Rick smiled as he quickly but swiftly turned and walked to his desk. Morty blinked and shook his head “j-jee, thanks grandpa r-rick” Morty smiled, walking over to his grandfathers desk.
A few days later Rick had Morty help him in the garage with an experiment, it was 2 am, Rick grunted loudly as he flinched, waking up from a nightmare. He quickly realized he was still in the garage, drool on his chin, he looked over to see Morty asleep on the table. Rick sighed in relief, glad to see his grandson still by his side. Rick looked at the time “shit, it’s pretty l-la-Uurrrp! Late” he spoke aloud as he stood up, walking over to the table, picking up Mort in his arms. Rick shut the garage lights off before quietly walking upstairs to Mortys room. Rick looked down at the sleeping child in his arms, placing him in his bed as he covered him in his covers. Rick stood there, watching Morty sleep soundly, a look of some sort on his face. He wiped the drool off his chin before slowly leaning in and kissing Mortys forehead, caressing his soft cheek. Rick quietly shut his door, his back leaned on the door, feeling his heart beat fast, as he made a face of disgust 'this is wrong..what am I thinking?’ He thought, sadly walking to his room where he went to bed, thinking of Morty.
Summary:Six months later, Donald learns to survive. Word Count: 4215 AO3
He knew his sister like he knew his own mind, or he thought he did, and that’s the problem isn’t it?
Donald Duck deserves the moon, stars, and sun for what he’s done for those boys, and you know what…if it was offered he probably wouldn’t accept it. Probably.
As a young duck, Donald relished in the unknown. As a young duck he relished in the unknown. Creatures of archaic origins and Beagle Boys crunched under his temper. This was an appropriate method in approaching a life like his. He had known pretty and fickle women. He still felt the sting of her slap on his right cheek as she sped off on her unicycle. Zealous protectiveness was a hindrance to his adventurous lifestyle.
He fought the Beagle Boys until his knuckles were bruised bloody. A frozen kraken tentacle was preserved for a late night snack in his freezer. Donna’s scent, the touch of her feathers, and the sound of her voice were recalled in fond abstract. It was how most old flames existed in memory.
Donald handled it. He handled it and came out on top. He handled it and came out on bottom.
All it had taken to reverse twenty-five years of reckless, impulsive, and heartbreaking behavior was a lunar goddess’ spear, a missing twin sister, and three, suddenly orphaned, toddlers.
Della sold him his greatest misadventure, and what she left behind too tiny, too fragile, and indescribably heavy for him to handle on his own.
I need a super, super sick and pukey Bel, getting sick on Josh maybe?
Bel cried softly, curling in on himself as Josh rubbed his back. He’d started feeling ill before dinner but had forced himself to eat anyway. He was deeply regretting that decision now.
“Is there anything I can do?” Josh asked. He ran his fingers through Bel’s long hair in an attempt to soothe him, but Bel just shook his head.
“My stomach really hurts,” he moaned.
“Do you feel like you’re going to be sick? Maybe we should go sit in the bathroom…”
Bel shook his head. The last thing he wanted was to have to get up and move to the bathroom. Just the thought made his stomach rise nauseatingly into his throat. He pressed his face against Josh’s chest, letting out a shuddering breath as the nausea passed.
Josh slid a hand beneath the loose fabric of Bel’s top, pressing his cool fingers into Bel’s bloated stomach. The touch made his already unsettled insides flip, and Bel shifted uncomfortably in an attempt to escape the touch.
“I’m just trying to make sure it’s not your appendix or anything,” Josh explained, prodding again. “Does it hurt more when I press down here?”
Bel shook his head miserably. His stomach constricted, and something thick rushed up his throat. His mouth opened before he could stop it. Thankfully, all that escaped was a breathy burp.
“Probably not your appendix then, so that’s good.”
“Josh, I don’t feel good,” Bel whimpered.
Maybe Josh didn’t hear him, or maybe he just didn’t catch the urgency in Bel’s tone.
Caught off guard and too sick to even turn his head to prevent it, Bel suddenly pitched forward, his head still resting against Josh’s chest, and emptied his stomach onto both of their laps.
“Bel!” Josh jerked away in surprise, but there was nowhere for him to go. Bel was crying harder now, his stomach continuing to hurt as vomit began to soak into his pants. He heaved a couple times before burping up another wave as his stomach tried to purge itself.
Through his misery he was dimly aware of Josh gathering his already vomit-stained hair out of his face.
Summary: This is a four horsemen of the apocalypse au, it’s set during ww1 so there are some slight history references! Here are the guys’ roles:
Please enjoy :)
It’s a strange feeling, to be walking the streets of Earth again, to have his lungs breathe in her steadily damaged air, and have her skies kiss his skin with sunlight he ached to feel all those years he slept. The world hasn’t seen his face in centuries, forgetting all the pain that comes when he looms near, and that’s okay, because it’s about time they remembered.
Hi! I would love a LeviHan fic - perhaps a modern AU at a house/dorm party with games? Thanks!
Thank you for sending in the very first request! Yay! Of course, your wish is my command ;) so here! Have a dose of Levihan!
Some Shitty Boyfriend (LeviHan AU - House party)
Theme: House/ Dorm Party
Warning: Has curse words, Mention of Cannabis and Beer
Summary: When Hanji and Levi partake in the game of Never Have I Ever, he discovers things about her and even deeper.
For the twelfth time around, he made his way through the crowd, bumping, shoving and pushing sweat covered bodies which he thought was hell.
He would have never went to this fiasco if ‘Eyebrows’ had not bribed him with a month’s supply of tea and Windex. ‘It would be fun’ he said, yet it was nothing but suffocating to him. The stench of booze, smoke and perspiration was enough torture to him, yet it did not end there. His clean freak side was ticking like a time bomb, ready to wipe away all the crumbs of food, spilled vodka, and occasional stains of vomit on the carpet any moment.
Ooo please write something with someone being sick in a bath tub! Don't know what it is but I love it when people are sick in baths. Like without actually being in the bath? Wait you know what I mean? No water or anything, just more, couldn't make it to the toilet (or it wasn't available which is even better) and they just turn and hurl in the tub xx
I wrote most of this last night when I was on a writing kick, so I’ve no idea what you guys will think of it. I don’t like it much, but you guys know what I’m like, I never do. I hope you guys enjoy it.
Warning: contains descriptions of vomit below.
Julius gave a garbled groan, swinging his slender legs out of bed yet again. He looked terrible, his curls exploding in all directions, his face sickly white, his big brown eyes ringed with dark circles. He was wearing one of Alistair’s shirts, tugging the soft material close as he staggered to his feet, a hand over his mouth. Alistair stirred quickly too, looking equally exhausted, as Julius dashed out of the room.
Poor Julius had bolted for the bathroom yet again. He’d been having to get up every hour or so throughout the night, thanks to an awful stomach bug making its rounds about the university. Jasper had caught it too, and Isabelle was over at his place, playing nurse. Alistair was growing increasingly concerned about Julius, who was starting to get very shaky with each bout of vomiting, and the red-head had made Julius have a few quick puffs of his inhaler, just in case.
Julius staggered and practically fell over the toilet now, immediately gagging and spitting saliva into the water. A shudder ran all the way up his spine, and he reached back for Alistair with a whimper - vomiting still brought back bad memories. Alistair knelt behind his boyfriend, running his back and whispering onto his hair, still soft with sleep.
After a long night of purging, poor Julius’s stomach was empty and aching. He retched and heaved uselessly for more than ten minutes, his cheeks flushing red with effort, until he finally burped up several mouthfuls of water and bitter stomach bile.
By the time his stomach had settled, the boy was chalk white and sweaty, giving a sob and falling back against Alistair. The red-head hugged the smaller boy close against his chest, rubbing his back.
“Star… It hurts,” Julius wept miserably. Alistair held him tighter.
“I know, I know. Come on, I’ll make you some tea. It might help your tummy and put you to sleep,” he said, picking the smaller boy up carefully.
Alistair carried a weak and trembling Julius to the kitchen table, sitting him at one of the creaking chairs. That table was a poor, rickety thing, the wood scarred with coffee stains, but Alistair and Julius were fond of it simply because it was theirs, and they’d paid for it themselves.
Just as Alistair was finishing up the tea, there was an urgent knock at the door. The red-head tensed, instantly wary - it was the middle of the night, after all, and he thought there could only be bad news at this time. He’d have been happy to hide in the flat and pretend he was asleep, but Julius thought it was rude to leave people out on the doorstep, and he badgered Alistair until the red-head sighed in defeat and opened the door cautiously.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
It was Toby, in a deep blue shirt and tracksuit bottoms, his feet bare. His hair was wild about his shoulders, and his face was very pale and sweaty. He opened his eyes imploringly, his hands cupping his stomach.
“Can I come in? Think I might have - urrp - caught that fucking bug,” he said, giving a queasy burp. Alistair groaned.
“Look, I’ve got Jules sick in here. Go get Sal to take care of you,” he demanded.
“I can’t wake her. She’s got a presentation tomorrow, she needs her sleep. I just don’t want to be on my own. Mum always looked after me at home,” Toby mumbled, visibly drooping at the mention of his family. Alistair quickly yanked Toby inside with a sigh, trying to distract him - he never knew how to handle it when Toby went all maudlin.
“Okay, fine. But don’t expect me to fucking baby you.”
So soon Toby was sat at the table with Julius, both of them quiet and pale, before Alistair placed a mug of tea in front of them. The red-head could barely make toast, and his tea was never quite right, frequently too milky or too sweet, but Julius and Toby took a few gulps politely, though Toby pulled a face.
Alistair scowled at him. “Well fucking make it yourself next time.”
Drinking the tea was a mistake. Julius started shaking again, his stomach making angry gurgling noises. Toby doubled over, burping loudly and unashamedly in the quiet, still air of the kitchen. Alistair put up with it for a while, but then he gave Toby a light thump on the arm.
“Don’t do that! Christ, are you completely shameless?” he asked incredulously. Toby frowned at him.
“My stomach - urrRRP - hurts. I’m not gonna hold it in.”
“You’re a fucking pig.”
“You’re an asshole!”
They probably would have continued to bicker, but just at that moment Julius gave a choked retch, slipping off the chair and making a hasty dash to the bathroom again. Alistair forgot about Toby in an instant, running after Julius and holding the smaller boy’s heaving shoulders as he coughed up the tea he’d consumed.
Unfortunately for Toby, the sound of poor Julius purging was enough to push him over the edge, and his own stomach lurched ominously. He clamped a hand over his mouth, panicking, knowing Julius was using the toilet. He ran to the bathroom even so, peering around desperately. The sink was much too small, so Toby only really had one other option - he dashed over to the bath, leaned his head over the side and erupted.
Toby was always loud and dramatic when he threw up, but with the noise echoing off the bath it was deafening. Alistair winced at the din and the smell, but he quickly grabbed Toby’s hair as several waves of projectile vomit spattered unpleasantly into the bath.
By the time both boys had finished puking, Julius was sobbing and Toby was wrung out and sweaty, his lips stained with vomit. Alistair had to do an awful lot of mopping up and cuddling, an arm around each sick boy, until they’d calmed down. He tried to turf the ill pair into bed before he started the mammoth task of cleaning up the bath, but Julius started whimpering again as soon as Alistair tried to pry him off, and even Toby didn’t seem keen on the idea. In the end they both sat at Alistair’s feet as he cleaned up, like faithful dogs.
When the mess had finally all been cleaned, Alistair cradled Julius tenderly in his arms, gave Toby’s shirt collar an unceremonious yank, and dragged them both back to the bedroom, a bucket at each side of the bed for them.
“Uughhh, I think I puked up an organ,” Toby groaned, flopping into bed. Alistair rolled his eyes.
“You didn’t. I know, because I just cleaned up all your vomit. You can stay here if you really must, but don’t do that fucking Exorcist puking again,” he said, tucking Julius up.
Alistair assumed he’d have to go bunk in Isabelle’s bed, but Julius yanked and pulled at his shirt until Alistair tumbled down beside him. He ended up squashed in the middle, Julius curled up close against Alistair’s left side, Toby leaning heavily against his right. It was rather claustrophobic, and both boys were uncomfortably hot, but neither boy would move when Alistair whined and fidgeted. Eventually Alistair had to settle, though he couldn’t help feeling like a slice of ham in a large sandwich. Julius draped a handful of Alistair’s red hair over his face, using it like a child’s blanket.
“We’re extra protection. We’ll keep the nightmares away,” he mumbled sweetly.
That made Alistair catch his breath. It was Julius’s new thing when Alistair couldn’t sleep, when he was scared to sleep, terrified of what dreams would torment him as soon as he closed his eyes. Julius would wrap his arms around Alistair’s neck, holding him tightly. “There,” he’d whisper in Alistair’s ear. “I’m protecting you. The nightmares can’t get to you now.”
Alistair still had nightmares, of course, and he still frequently woke gasping or even screaming - but it meant all the world to him that Julius was trying, and he still loved to be held, though he’d never admit it.
After a while all three boys slept, all curled up in a row. Toby snored, Julius snuffled and Alistair twitched and kicked his legs, but none woke until the balmy dawn light was filtering in through the window.