#Vertigo Headache | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sickficideas · 1 year

Note

dazai who regularly gets vertigo that sometimes eventually leads to migraines. he always tries to work through them, but sometimes it just gets too bad & he collapses. cue chuuya caretaking <3 (thinking mostly pm skk)

thank u for the delicious ask anon...dazai is not the only one suffering in this fic, there's so much suffering to go around teehee..

ao3! 4.5k words, sickfic - please refer to the link for additional tags!

you're a headache || skk sickfic

Dazai is hoping it's just the antiseptic smell. He doesn't want to think about the other possibilities.

He sits down on one of the cots as soon as the dizzy spell hits him. He's learned over the years that sitting down right away seems to mitigate some of the effects of his vertigo, but it's gotten worse over time, and it's getting more and more difficult to hide.

"You good?"

Chuuya's voice. Dazai almost forgot he was there with him. He was the one that carried Akutagawa all the way here. Dazai's secretly thankful for it, because he certainly wouldn't have been able to do it himself.

"I'm fine," Dazai groans. Chuuya stuffs his phone into a pocket as he slips back past the curtain, eyeing Akutagawa's unconscious form with far more concern than necessary, Dazai thinks. "Did you get ahold of them?"

"Yeah. They're sending someone over to come get him with our ambulance," Chuuya huffs, leaning against the wall opposite to Dazai. This isn't a good situation. Akutagawa's injuries are too severe for him to be treated long-term by the infirmary staff at headquarters, and he needs to be taken to their own emergency facility. Dazai can't quite tell where he's bleeding from at this point. His head and thigh injuries bled the most, but he has several broken ribs and a fractured collarbone that's jutting out of his skin. He's almost certain one of his arms are dislocated, and Dazai would have put it back in place himself if the kid's collarbone wasn't staring right back at him.

Unfortunately, even if his injuries weren’t this severe, he’s extremely uncooperative and requires sedation to be treated. The infirmary staff have refused to treat him even for minor things in the past.

Dazai sighs, dropping his head in his hands, not caring much about the dried blood that they're covered in. “Such a pain.”

"At least he stopped bleeding," Chuuya sighs.

Dazai nods.

He probably needs to tell Gin. Akutagawa was supposed to go home tonight, but he has a feeling that won't be for a while, now.

Dazai almost never sees Akutagawa’s injuries the moment they happen. He’s learned to use Rashomon to keep injuries quite literally under wraps, and he can stop his own bleeding pretty well if he has the focus for it, but not this time. He fainted as a result of the blood he lost before Dazai even realized he was injured. He has no idea how he managed to hide that collarbone injury.

He has a much higher pain tolerance than Dazai could ever dream of. Here he is, half a collarbone snapped off and poking out, and Dazai thinks he might start crying if this headache turns into a migraine like he's suspecting.

Dazai pulls out his phone to find Gin's contact. He considers texting her, but this is sort of urgent, so he hits the call button and presses the phone up to his ear. Chuuya tilts his head, and Dazai has to hold himself back on making a comment about him looking like a confused dog.

"Gin. Hey. Akutagawa got hurt pretty bad today. They're taking him up to the hospital at the Port for further treatment. I can text you the information when I get it," he says. Gin doesn't speak when she's working, so he doesn't expect a response. There's just silence for a moment before she hangs up, a simple acknowledgment that she heard him.

"Gin? That Black Lizard kid?" Chuuya asks.

"Mhm," Dazai asks, tossing his phone over to the end of the cot. Chuuya looks confused, but Dazai doesn't feel like explaining anything to him.

For a moment, Akutagawa's body tenses up and he clenches his teeth through a pained groan, but he stays unconscious. Chuuya's expression tenses up just the same.

"Go back to work," Dazai grumbles. He only asked Chuuya for help because he was nearby when Akutagawa passed out. He doesn't need him anymore.

Chuuya scoffs. "You go back to work."

"I can't. I have to make sure my dog doesn't kill anyone when he wakes up," Dazai drawls as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Stop calling him that, Dazai," he hisses.

"I'll call him whatever I want, Chuuya," Dazai groans. He doesn't have the energy to argue about meaningless things like this, but he will if it's Chuuya.

Chuuya, for some reason, doesn't seem to be so willing to leave. He leans against the wall and closes his eyes for a minute or so. Dazai isn't sure how long he's been working for, at this point. The bags under his eyes are telling enough. Regardless, he was there quickly enough when Dazai called to help him stop Akutagawa's bleeding.

"Why is he like that, anyway?"

"Like what?" Dazai groans, shooting a glare up at the latter. His voice sounds like metal grating on metal on Dazai's aching brain. He knows he's quickly developing a migraine - or, it's only hit him now that he has time to actually think.

"I saw him last time. Take that nurse's head off," Chuuya says. The memory sends a shiver up Dazai's spine. He's seen a lot of horrific things in his time in the mafia, but he's never seen a clean, instantaneous decapitation like that. Akutagawa is often heavily disoriented when he wakes up, especially when he's injured or ill, and that happened as a result.

Akutagawa didn't speak for two weeks after that happened, and Dazai could never seem right figure out why.

"He's from the slums," Dazai mumbles. His vision starts to list sideways as he straightens himself up, and he tries his best to hide any sign of his vertigo from Chuuya.

"Yeah?" Chuuya asks. He's starting to look irritated. "The fuck's that mean, Dazai? I'm from the slums too, asshole. What's that got to do with decapitating people for no reason?"

"I'm like, ninety-seven percent sure he was trafficked, so, more that sort of thing," Dazai says casually, not at all thrown off Chuuya's random defensive bite.

Chuuya loses some of the color in his face.

"Shit," he curses, letting out a shaky breath.

"I mean, I don't know for sure. I know he wouldn't tell me. But I'd say there's a good chance," Dazai shrugs. "Sure you saw your fair share of that."

Chuuya doesn't say anything, but he knows the answer. He thinks the two of them probably have a lot more in common than either of them realize.

"Maybe you could ask him, since you like him so much. He'd probably tell you," Dazai teases.

"What the hell is your problem? He can't stand anyone but you. He wouldn't tell me," Chuuya scoffs. "I wouldn't ask about something like that anyway, you freak. It's not my business."

Dazai has tuned him out at this point. He doesn't care much to hear Chuuya's defenses, he was really only doing it to get a rise out of him, but now he regrets it. Chuuya's voice is normally a cacophony in Dazai's ears, but now with his ever-present migraine, it's making him much more aware of the dull throbbing in the back of his head.

"Shut up, will you? You'll wake up my dog," Dazai groans, dropping his head back into his hands. Chuuya won't care if Dazai tells him the real reason, he's sure, but he's much more likely to comply for Akutagawa's sake, for some reason.

"Call him your dog one more time," Chuuya grumbles to himself, but Dazai ignores him.

It's silent again for a while. Dazai doesn't have much concept of how much time has passed, he's simply trying to will away his migraine, somehow. Chuuya refuses to leave. It might be a good thing. He can probably carry Akutagawa out once they arrive to pick him up. Dazai couldn't carry him even if he wanted to.

Then, of course, the nausea hits him.

"I'll be right back," Dazai grumbles. He figures he's probably not walking as straight as he thinks, but he's more worried about getting to the bathroom in time than hiding his vertigo from Chuuya, at this point. He pulls the curtain back and stumbles toward the bathroom, one hand clamped over his mouth just in case his stomach contents decide to make a reappearance before he can do it of his own free will.

He drops to his knees with a groan as soon as he closes the door behind him, and he lays his head on the toilet seat. His head is spinning so much that he can't see straight. He has no idea how he managed to get here so quickly. Muscle memory, his strong desire to get away from Chuuya, it's anyone's guess.

"Fuck," he groans, spitting his saliva into the water. So far, there's no sign of Chuuya following him over, not that Dazai is too aware of his surroundings right now anyway. He tries to turn his head to see if he can see anything from the space beneath the door, but everything suddenly turns on its side, and he chokes up a mouthful of vomit. The only sign he has that it landed in the toilet is the splash he hears - he can't see anything.

His brain feels like it's thumping against his skull, which is a sensation so nauseating that it makes everything else feel so much worse. He whines, much rather wishing someone would put him out of his misery. This surely isn't worth surviving.

Whatever forces itself out of his stomach next is strong enough for Dazai to consider it near projectile. He feels it coming out of his nose, which is only adding to the list of awful sensations he's feeling.

He whines to himself, not caring much about how pathetic he must sound. He spits up another mouthful of vomit with a wet burp.

“Hngh…”

He tries not to move his head too much, but he can't stay here for long. He reaches forward to flush, hardly with enough energy to. He's sure he'll have to go with them once they take Akutagawa just as a precaution, and they should be here any minute. He takes a wad of toilet paper to wipe his mouth and nose. His throat already burns so bad.

He has to use the toilet seat for support to get up, and he finds himself leaning heavily against the wall as he's hit with another bout of vertigo. He's lucky he already threw up, or else he's sure this bout would have made him vomit all over the tile floor.

He keeps a hand along the wall as he finds the door, and once he opens it, he has to lean on the bathroom door frame for support. He can't get away with hiding it, not now. If he tries, he'll pass out for sure.

Chuuya is glaring at him, an eyebrow raised. Dazai doesn't have any clue how long he's been out here.

"Did you just throw up?" Chuuya asks.

Dazai groans, pressing his forehead up against the frame. He wishes Chuuya were more like Akutagawa. He's trained the latter to be silent if he notices anything wrong with him, but Chuuya always has to point it out. Annoying.

"The hell's wrong with you, Dazai? You've been weird this whole time," Chuuya huffs. He takes a step forward, almost looking like he wants to approach him for some reason, but Dazai just turns his head back to the side. He feels awful.

"Nothing. Go away, slug."

And then it hits him again, as soon as he takes a step forward and loses the support of the door frame. It feels almost like one foot landed where it was supposed to, and the other somehow took a step on the wall, and now his head is rushing toward the floor.

Of course, Chuuya catches him before he can turn his migraine into a head injury.

Dazai makes no effort to move. He'd do anything to wriggle out of Chuuya's hold right now, but he's practically incapacitated right now, his eyes screwed shut in some attempt to get some control over what he's seeing.

"Dazai -"

"It's just this shitty vertigo," Dazai mumbles quietly, trying to peer his eyes open. "I'll be fine, just -"

Chuuya doesn't give him any room to defend himself. He scoops him up without a second of deliberation.

Dazai finds himself lying in one of the cots in no time at all, one in a closed room. He doesn't trust himself to open his eyes just yet, but he can tell it's dark in here. That usually helps. He probably should lie down for a while.

"Stay here and don't fucking get up," Chuuya huffs before he pulls the curtain closed, and Dazai covers his ears a bit too late, the metal rings sliding along the pole proving to be a bit too much for him. He's not sure why Chuuya was in such a rush to leave, but he hears his phone ringing off in the distance. They must be here to get Akutagawa.

Dazai curls up on his side, taking the pillow and holding it over his head to dull his senses some. It still feels like he's cascading down a waterfall inside of a wooden barrel, but now that he thinks about it, he'd rather actually be doing that. At least he has death to look forward to at the end. This is just pointless suffering.

He hears something. He's not sure what. Something falling against the tile, some sort of a struggle.

"Hey. You're okay. You're in the infirmary, at headquarters," he hears Chuuya say sternly. "Dazai's right in there. He fell asleep."

Dazai can't even remotely muster the energy to get up. Akutagawa's awake, and he's not there to negate his ability.

Get away from him, he wants to say. Akutagawa's true intentions don't matter, the fact is he could easily kill Chuuya in those first blinded moments before he realizes where he is.

But he doesn't hear anything. He doesn't hear any kind of struggle at all, not past that first bit.

Dazai scoffs to himself. Of course he's fine with Chuuya. Of course Chuuya can handle himself.

And then he hears it again. Some kind of struggle.

He forces his head up off the bed, which proves to be a massive mistake. His head swims and rolls off his shoulders, it feels like, reminding him how horribly nauseous he is, and he leans over the side of the cot to try to vomit on the floor, but he's greatly misinterpreted how far off the cot he leaned because of the vertigo, and his whole body tumbles to the floor.

He doesn't have the energy to even lift his head to vomit. Whatever he manages to choke out just slides off of his tongue and spreads on the floor next to his face.

He'd rather be blackout drunk than this.

…

"Dazai," Chuuya mumbles. He hates how concerned he sounds. He doesn't often let himself be read like that.

"I'm fine," Dazai barely manages to croak out, but he's not really sure where he is. He thinks he might be back in that same bed, which means Chuuya moved him from where he was, laying in his own vomit.

It's still dark. Dazai is lying on his back, feeling significantly less dizzy, but now he's met with what feels like the worst migraine of his life, pounding through his skull like there's no tomorrow. He whines, grabbing a fistful of the sheets he's lying on for some kind of distraction.

He feels something damp press against his cheek, and he manages to open an eye to see it's still only Chuuya, rubbing a washcloth on the side of his face. Dazai groans and tries to turn his head away. He realizes there's a washcloth laid over his forehead, too. He doesn't think he has a fever, but it does feel nice.

"Cut it out. Trying to clean your face up," Chuuya grumbles, his free hand taking Dazai's chin to turn his head back in his direction. "What the hell even happened, Dazai? I come back and you're passed out on the floor and laying in your own puke?"

"'M fine," Dazai mumbles. He's exhausted. He can't have been passed out for long.

"No you're not. This isn't normal," Chuuya huffs. His brow furrows.

"'s just a migraine," he says quietly, but he can hardly speak. His voice rattling around in his brain is making his already insanely painful headache worse. He wants to tell Chuuya it's not a big deal. He gets these all the time, they're just bad for the first few hours and then he's okay, but he can't get the words out.

Chuuya, somehow, seems to realize this.

"You should've fuckin' said so," he whispers with a click of his tongue, somehow already understanding that other voices are making it worse.

Dazai's eyes fall shut. He's grateful for it being so quiet in the infirmary tonight. He didn't see a single member of the staff so far, or any patients. Now it's just him and Chuuya.

He hears something click, and realizes Chuuya has shut off the lights in the main hall of the infirmary, too. It's almost completely dark, aside from the emergency light just barely peeking past the curtain.

"I'll come back later. Gonna report to the boss," Chuuya whispers.

There's blood on Chuuya's face. Dazai can trace the faint outline of it, but he disappears before Dazai can figure out where it's coming from. This time, not a single ring of the curtain moves on the metal bar. It's a silent exit. Dazai's impressed.

He lets go of a shaky sigh.

…

"I'm not gonna move him."

Chuuya's voice wakes him. Dazai groans, beyond annoyed to have any voice wake him up - let alone Chuuya - until he manages to remember where he is.

"He's not injured. Just leave 'im. I've got it covered," Chuuya says.

Dazai hears the hushed voices of some nurses, and as he pries his eyes open, he realizes the lights in the main hall of the infirmary are on again, spilling into the dark room he's been resting in. He wonders how long it's been. He hasn't had time to properly rest in a few weeks, at the very least, so he's lost track of time.

The nurses' voices have stopped, and Dazai hears Chuuya's footsteps.

He's still very quiet. Dazai can only hear the fabric ruffle when Chuuya slips past the curtain, and Dazai lets himself fall still again, pretending to still be asleep. He doesn't hear a sound from Chuuya at first, but soon enough, he lets out a deep sigh, and it sounds like he slides down against the wall, opposite to the curtain.

Dazai turns his head just enough that he'll be able to see Chuuya's face.

He looks exhausted. If Dazai had really just woken up, he would have thought Chuuya was dead asleep, the way his head is hanging down. For just a second, Dazai feels something akin to guilt. The blood Dazai remembered from earlier has since dried and cracked against his skin, and his skin is pale, but Dazai isn’t sure why.

"Sleeping on the floor's not good for you, Chibi," Dazai teases, his voice hoarse, hardly above a whisper.

"Fucking hell, Dazai," Chuuya growls, obviously startled, his eyes wide and fixed on Dazai. If Dazai had been any louder, he might've hit his head on the wall from the surprise, "I thought you were asleep, dammit."

"I was, but your annoying voice woke me," Dazai complains with an overdramatic sigh, laying his forearm over his eyes.

"How's your head?" Chuuya asks, evidently not interested in Dazai's taunts. He uses support from the wall to help himself get up, or rather, struggle to, and Dazai hears a quiet groan from him. He’s holding a hand against his abdomen, just for a moment.

"Worse now that you're here," Dazai mumbles under his breath, turning over on the cot. He's still not a huge fan of the lights.

"Seriously, you ugly fuckin' mackerel. Do you feel better or not?" Chuuya groans.

"A little," he admits. It's not nearly as awful as it was before. He can handle the sound of his own voice, at least. The headache is still present, and he's not sure he wants to test his luck with the vertigo and try to sit up, but he's better for now.

Dazai moves his hand back down to his side, and finds a damp washcloth beside his pillow, likely replaced at some point during his sleep. He tosses it over to Chuuya, who doesn't react nearly as quickly as he shoulder.

"You demanding motherfu-"

"Wash your face," Dazai huffs, "unsightly. What kind of executive are you?"

He's teasing, of course, but Chuuya doesn't seem to understand what he's referring to. Normally, Chuuya wouldn't dream of using something to wash his face that's already touched Dazai, but he wipes his cheek and checks the cloth, surprised to find blood.

"Oh, that's…" Chuuya mumbles to himself. He sits down on the cot.

"Akutagawa?" Dazai asks.

"He was scared," Chuuya murmurs, of course, right away to Akutagawa's defense. His fingers graze across the dried cut on his forehead. "You…you need to be more gentle with him."

Chuuya's words are lost to him. He's more concerned with the way Chuuya's looking right now, like he'd pass out any second. He's seen his head bob forward a few times now.

"Lay down," Dazai mumbles. Chuuya meets his gaze for a few moments. Dazai expects him to argue, but he thinks he's so exhausted that he doesn't even give himself a second to think of any retort. He just lays on his side at the end of the bed and curls up, like a cat. Dazai's noticed he often sleeps like that. It almost seems defensive.

"You piss me off," Chuuya murmurs, his voice already heavy with sleep, whispered. Dazai watches all the tension leave his body, but he keeps his gaze on Dazai for as long as he can, before another force makes his eyelids fall shut.

"Yeah, yeah," Dazai whispers, watching Chuuya as he starts to fall asleep.

Only a few moments later, a nurse peaks her head in through the curtains, not as careful to avoid the metal scraping as Chuuya was. Dazai grits his teeth at the sound, but he turns his head, an eyebrow raised at the woman.

"Is he asleep?" she asks so quietly Dazai can hardly hear her. There's one or two more nurses behind her. Dazai just nods, thinking it was obvious enough. "We've been trying to get him to rest all morning."

"All morning?" Dazai asks.

"Yes, he's been in here with you the whole time…he refused to rest," she says. "Please let us know if you need something, sir."

"Turn the lights back off out there, will you?" Dazai sighs, and the nurse nods fervently, disappearing past the curtains. Dazai sighs, long and annoyed, and plans on shutting his eyes and going back to sleep before he feels something warm under the heel of his foot.

At first, he’s inclined to make a joke, but all of the little things he’s noticed have come together to make him realize that Chuuya’s blood is soaking the mattress, and he’s still unconscious. Dazai forces himself to sit up to get a better look at him, and his head swims, proving he’s still not completely recovered from his migraine.

“Chuuya,” Dazai breathes out. He grabs his shoulder, but he doesn’t budge.

Dazai shouts for a nurse.

…

Chuuya’s color is finally starting to come back. Dazai takes note of that. It’s a good sign, even though he’s still fast asleep.

The nurses aren’t too worried about him not waking up. The wound on his abdomen bled a lot, and they’re a bit worried about infection, but at the moment they say it’s nothing he needs a hospital visit for.

Evidently, it was an injury caused by Akutagawa, but Dazai is at a loss for why Chuuya refused to tell anyone, let alone get it treated. He’s sure Chuuya has his own noble bullshit reason for it, something Dazai could never even dream of understanding.

“Can’t you ever just let me suffer by myself?” Dazai grumbles, his head on a pillow beside Chuuya’s. He doesn’t expect Chuuya to answer, but he hopes he subconsciously absorbs the message.

“Fuck you,” Chuuya mutters, his eyes still shut. Dazai didn’t realize that he woke up. His voice is hoarse and heavy with sleep. “Can you shut up? My head hurts.”

“Boo hoo,” Dazai huffs. He manages to fish a free hand out from under the sheets to flick Chuuya in the forehead. Chuuya groans, snatching the sheet they’re both under and pulling it over his head.

“How’s yours,” Chuuya mumbles from under the sheet.

“My what?”

“Your head. Moron,” he huffs.

“I’m fine. Go back to sleep, slug,” Dazai tells him, taking the sheet back so he can see his face. Chuuya’s glaring at him. “Stop worrying about me so much. It’s weird.”

“You’re weird. Ugh,” Chuuya grumbles, tucking his head back into the pillow. “Tell me the next time something’s wrong with you, freak. I don’t wanna find you passed out in your own puke again.”

“And I don’t want you bleeding out in the be I’m laying in again, chibi. Take your own dumb advice,” Dazai groans.

“It was deeper than I thought,” Chuuya mumbles defensively. Dazai knows it was much more complicated than that, but he won’t press for more details. Chuuya’s thought process is a mystery to him, and he’d like to keep it that way. “Dazai?”

“What, slug?” Dazai groans.

“I was trafficked too,” Chuuya mumbles. It’s much quieter than everything else he’s said, and any anger or annoyance has long since left his expression.

“I figured,” Dazai says back quietly. His chest tightens up, and he’s not sure why. He knows how common that sort of thing is in the slums, it doesn’t surprise him at all that that’s something Chuuya went through, but he’s at a loss for why Chuuya’s deciding to tell him.

“Waking up and not knowing where you are’s fucking scary,” Chuuya grumbles. “I don’t…I don’t blame Akutagawa for freaking out.”

“Never said I did, Chuuya,” Dazai reminds him. He recalls simply answering Chuuya’s question as to why Akutagawa reacts the way that he does.

“So don’t punish him. It’s not his fault,” Chuuya mumbles.

Dazai sighs. That’s what he’s getting at, then. “I won’t.”

Chuuya relaxes, just a bit, and only then Dazai realizes how tense he was.

“Will you go to sleep now?” Dazai huffs, trying to force some sort of annoyed tone to get Chuuya to comply, but he’s already halfway there. The exhaustion takes over him one more time. Chuuya’s always been one to fall asleep quickly.

Dazai brushes some of Chuuya’s overgrown bangs from his eyes. He really doesn't want to know how all of this would have gone if Chuuya wasn’t there - between Akutagawa’s injuries and Dazai being nearly completely incapacitated from his migraine, Chuuya took care of it all, and completely neglected himself in the process.

He’s far too selfless. Dazai doesn’t think he’ll ever understand it.

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boysbellyrubs · 2 years

Text

All In a Day’s Work

From the moment the last creature fell, Xavier knew he had fucked it. As the monster hit the ground, he stumbled into the alley wall. His back hit it first and the wound he had received a few minutes earlier came back to bite him in the ass. Xavier groaned, forced to stand up straight as the cut bled through his shirt.

He felt his exhaustion hit him full force, the weight of his overexertion now landing roughly on his shoulders. He squeezed his eyes shut at a dizzying wave of nausea, a hand resting on his belly. Xavier could feel his illusion fading, his horns, claws and wings flickering back for the world to see. He sucked in a breath as he tried to keep it up but another crash of nausea prevented it.

Thankfully, the monsters he chose as his enemy were prone to fighting in dark places; so he found himself concealed by the tall, shadowy structures of two apartment blocks, shrouded by a dumpster.

Xavier was not human, he tried to be for most of his life but he had been forced into his current way of life by his parents. They too weren’t human, creatures made to hunt out the lurking beasts of the human world, trying not to be hunted themselves by greedy scientists and capitalist scumbags.

He had been doing this for at most 5 years now. He had gotten quite good at hunting out whatever he was tasked to kill, and do it efficiently without being caught. However, the side effects of his outings were physical repercussions including nausea, headaches, vertigo, the list goes on. This only happens when he had pushed himself too far, used his abilities too much to the point where he was seconds away from puking on his enemy rather than killing them.

Crouched down behind the bin he hugged his stomach as it churned thickly, careful not to stretch his fresh cut on his back. The bastard thing was right under his left wing, so there was no way he was going to be able to use it for a few days. That was another downside, he took a few days to heal when he was this fucked up. So, he was regularly calling in sick for his human job as his body took its sweet time to patch itself up.

He didn’t know why he still did this.

His belly gurgled under his palm and he hiccuped, feeling his breakfast swirl and make its way up his throat. He fell onto his ass, hissing as it jostled his wings. Kicking his legs out to the front he gingerly leaned back against the dumpster, trying to calm his stomach enough for him to get home. Xavier’s head made a thump against the bin, staring at the clouds way above him. He breathed rhythmically through his nose and out his mouth, desperately using his foolproof technique to stop his inevitable sickness.

The clouds moving were only increasing his dizziness however, so he chose to stare into nothing. He gently rubbed his belly, another hiccup wracking his frame. He groaned, it felt like his cut was tearing open wider the more he sat there, and the nausea was only getting worse.

Pushing himself off the bin a little, he leant forward in between his legs. Now dead set on vomiting, his brain gave his stomach a big thumbs up and everything came up. His breakfast came up thickly, splattering on the concrete and blotching his pants with droplets of puke. He groaned, a sick burp beginning another gag and bringing up more of his stomach's contents.

The floor swam beneath him and he planted a hand roughly on the ground beside him; right into a shard of shattered glass. He jerked away from it, his hand now dripping blood down his forearm. The sight of it set off his stomach, it gurgled angrily and he felt his shoulders roll aggressively with his heave. It aggravated the wound on his back, Xavier swore he felt more blood dripping down his back.

After another burp and a hiccup, he sniffed and spat the last tendrils of spit to join the puddle between his legs. He moaned, vertigo making him sway forwards. He almost put his injured hand back on the ground but he forced his back to straighten and leant backwards; wanting the security of the bin behind him. He felt like shit. His entire body hurt like hell and his belly was still kicking up a fight, his right hand coming up to simply rest on his middle.

Leah would absolutely murder him.

Yeah, he has a girlfriend. She’s human, but she knows about his other work and his whole horns and wings thing. Every time he came home sick and injured, he would first get treated and cared for but as soon as she lured him into that false sense of security, the lecturing would start.

He appreciated them, of course, but it happened every time without fail. She would say something about how he ‘needed to take better care of himself’ and that he ‘should know his limits by now’. Thinking about her made him smile at least, even though he was feeling like the epitome of a squashed bug on someone’s front tire.

He should probably start moving if he wanted to get home by dark, the sunset already starting her orange painting of the sky, even though moving was the last thing he wanted to do. He’d have to apply his illusion again, which would only make him feel more sick, and then walk home or hitch a ride.

Maybe dying behind this dumpster was the better option.

No, he had Leah to get home to. So, with all of his remaining energy, he pushed himself off the ground, avoiding his vomit and trying to stand without toppling right back over. His wings flapped instinctually, it kept him upright but it hurt like a bitch. He moaned and put his hand on the bin, breathing deeply through his nose. His stomach ached, now his muscles were joining the party, as well as his head that pounded with every beat of his heart.

His belly gurgled in warning and his eyes widened, please not right now, he prayed. He felt it lurch and a burp slipped past his lips, he covered his mouth with a hand and tried to swallow the wave. With his beautiful luck, it didn’t work and he found himself doubled over and creating a new puddle of sick right next to his old one. He braced his arm on the dumpster, desperately trying not to fall over completely. He probably looked a sight. If anyone just happened to turn their heads they would see what looked like an alcoholic but then they would see the wings and horns and run for the hills shouting for police.

Xavier’s mind wouldn’t shut up as he purged his insides more. His overthinking only made his head spin more, making his legs wobble and his arm almost slipped off the bin lid. He groaned out of frustration now, all he wanted was to get out of this fucking alley and get home.

Another grumble from his belly and he forced himself to be done. He straightened up and cleared his throat, coughing up the last bits stuck in his throat, and took a few wobbly steps forward. His shaky legs only took him a few metres when he felt his whole body give up, the wall suddenly appearing much closer to his face and another painful spike of his head caused his vision to blacken. Xavier moaned, wishing he had the ability to fucking teleport.

He didn’t see the figure approaching him from the street. Xavier’s panic neurons weren’t firing as his horns and wings were on full display. He was simply unable to hide them, too sick and tired and hurt to even bring up the energy needed to activate his illusion. If he was lucky they wouldn’t say anything. He wasn’t the only hybrid in the world, maybe this person was a sane individual who didn’t see him as a monster.

“Are you alright, young man?” The voice sounded older. Shit, you can never know with old people.

He didn’t even have the spirit to talk, a strangled moan making its way out instead.

They got closer, “I’m not gonna call the police if you’re worried. I’m a bit nervous for ya, s’all. You don’t look so good.” It was a woman, and she sounded like she wanted to help. He let out a puff of air, pulling himself up a smidge on the wall.

He cleared his throat, “Can you take me home?” His voice slurred, and he didn’t waste any time in asking her. He just needed to lie down.

She stepped into his vision and he finally caught sight of her. She even looked kind, glasses and a little hat, Xavier felt like jumping into her arms and demanding a bedtime story. Thankfully, after he asked she quickly ran to bring her car around. He crouched down while he waited, just trying to stave off the next vomiting spell. His belly was still unsettled, but he was able to hold it off the entire trip back to his house and all the way to his door.

After he opened the door though, he had to run to the bathroom to empty his stomach again. His illusion blinked off and his wings almost smacked Leah in the face as she came into the bathroom. Xavier could barely register her touch as she was so gentle with him, she must have seen the blood stain on his shirt and no doubt the blood all over his hand.

His stomach heaved and he lost his breath, he coughed and finally the last gush splashed into the water. Xavier groaned, dropping his head onto the rim of the toilet seat.

“Pretty bad tonight, babe.” Leah said. Xavier felt almost instantly relaxed. Funny how someone you love can do that to you. He nodded, groaning into his arm. As he sat up, Leah was already rifling through the bathroom cabinet for bandages and medicine. Xavier felt a bit guilty that he came home injured, but Leah never wavered or complained. He always tried to make sure he listened when she did express her concerns, seeing her boyfriend battered and bloody was probably not very good for her mental health.

He maneuvered his legs into a more comfortable position and let Leah start tending to his wounds.

“How did you get home?”

“Some nice old lady gave me a lift.”

Leah nodded, focusing on the cut on his hand. He watched her work, letting the exhaustion finally take over and his wings droop fully. He stayed quiet in case Leah wanted to speak.

However, the two sat in comfortable silence. Xavier breathing evened out, getting deeper as he was taken care of, and Leah silent as she concentrated. When she got to his back, he kept flinching and she had to hold his shoulder to stop him from moving.

“Xavier, stop moving, you'll make it worse.” She was laughing a little now.

Xavier tried to move again, whining, “But it hurts.”

Leah laughed, “Alright, you big baby. Just a few more seconds and you can lie down.”

He stopped complaining and more than a few seconds later, she was done and helped him off the ground. He swayed and Leah grabbed his forearms, looking up into his eyes. They were squeezed shut so she couldn’t look at his purple iris’, her favourite feature. She touched his cheek,

“Hey, Xavier, let's get you into bed.”

He opened his eyes, they were red rimmed and exhausted. She smiled sadly at him, leaning up to give a small kiss on the nose. Xavier’s cheeks flushed, avoiding eye contact. Leah pulled him to the bedroom, piling up some pillows and letting him get settled.

This had happened so much, Leah had prepared a kit for when Xavier came home sick. A bucket full of a thermometer, medicine, a rag and a towel. She emptied it and put the bucket on the ground beside him, and shoved the thermometer in his mouth.

“I love you.” Xavier sleepily mumbled, eyes closed and one hand resting on his middle. She reached out to touch his belly, feeling little grumbles. He sighed happily.

“Do you want a wet rag on your forehead for the headache?”

Xavier opened his eyes, “How did you know?”

Leah took the thermometer out and shrugged, “You have that face.”

Xavier closed his eyes again. He felt amazing now that he was lying down. Soon he’d have a cold rag and Leah would probably rub his belly as he slept. His back didn’t even hurt lying down. He was happy to start feeling better.

Leah returned, gently placing the rag on his head and climbing into the bed behind him. She snuggled up close, smoothing his crooked feathers and kissing his warm cheek. She watched as he smiled, finally letting himself sleep. The bruises and cuts were healing and Leah was content to nurse him back to health.

The lecture would come once he woke up.

—

Love the trope of a supposedly strong, powerful character being a big softie. I really hoped you guys liked this, I’m already in love with these two, cries.

#oc's #Xavier #Leah #sickfic #emeto #emetophilia #vomiting #vertigo #dizzyness #puking #stomach ache #caretaking #hybrid #belly rubs #belly kink #puke kink #headaches #whump #illness

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