writing-whump - Tumblr blog

[writing-whump]

Hey! I'm new around Tumblr and since the first day I found your blog.. I'm literally obsessed with your fictions!! Love the fictions, characters... I think you're one of the bests 💕💕Especially, I love Hector and Isiah, bromanceee!💖

Umm, when you have time and done with the fics on your list, would you consider a new one about Hector who's reeeally sick with high fever (and some other symptoms which is totally up to your imagination) and Isiah taking care of him?? I'd really love to read that!

♡Thank you with sharing these characters and world with us!

Hello nonny and welcome! That's so sweet of you to say, thank you so much🥰💕 This really fit as continuation for sick feverish Hector after his appendicitis operation, so here you go 😊

Appendicitis Aftermath

Arnie was biting his nails. Isaiah was seriously considering if he shouldn't point it out, because it was climbing up his fried nerves.

Arnie sat in the backseat, without a seat belt so he could hover in the middle between Isaiah behind the wheel and Hector.

One would say Isaiah would be used to being called to a crisis with his brothers in the middle of the night by now. However, it didn't get easier with practice.

Arnie was nearly in tears, mumbling about Hector, an operation, and an unruly shadow, which sent Isaiah into a panic. Turned rather anticlimactic when he arrived at the hospital.

Hector had appendicitis. The operation was routine, small, nothing serious. They caught it on time. Except the shadow was a problem. Isaiah was all ready to roll it down for his brother, when the medics came with the idea they could just drug him up with heavy stuff.

Hector was a wolf, meaning he couldn't heal an inflammation, infection, or sickness, but if they took the appendix out, his shadow would be able to heal the wound afterward. He didn't have to stay in the hospital; they even allowed them to take him home.

They needed only to wait for his shadow to recover.

Until then, Hector was stitched up and with bandages over the wound, hurting like any mortal would.

Another quiet crack as Arnie bit into the nail on his forefinger, fidgeting on Isaiah's right.

Hector was pale, holding himself rigidly in the seat. His eyes were closed, but he took those carefully measured breaths that told Isaiah he wasn't asleep.

The car jostled over a bump and Hector hissed quietly, jerking his head.

"Sorry about that. Almost home, buddy," Isaiah said, planting his hand on Hector's leg for a second to reassure him. Hector said nothing, curling onto himself.

"You'll be fine—humans undergo these operations every day and recover well." Arnie leaned in closer, a ball of nervous energy. Surprisingly so, since he slept even less than Isaiah, calling the ambulance at 3 in the morning.

Isaiah understood Arnie was trying to play the situation down, appealing to Hector's pride so he wouldn't let the pain get to him so much, but he didn't think it was currently helping.

Hector was simply in pain—one that wasn't leaving, wasn't getting better, and wouldn't be healed by his shadow for the next 12 hours at the least. This was not a good forecast for a wolf not used to endure pain, but there was no way to play it down.

Isaiah didn't have it in him to admonish Arnie though. His two younger brothers knew each other better than he knew them, he didn't dare. He understood Arnie was stressed out about it - he was even acutely aware of the fact.

One of the reasons why he found sharing his pain, sickness or weakness absolutely unacceptable with his brothers. He would not put Arnie through such an experience if he could help it. He never did, actually.

But he had failed in front of Hector one or two times about that, so he understood that too. Besides, it would probably be healthier to admit it, if they knew how to handle it right.

"Shit," Hector grunted, pressing his forehead against the window, hands gingerly around his stomach, just above the wound. "Stupid fucking medics, taking my shadow away."

"They couldn't work around it," Arnie said defensively, feeling involved in the decision since Hector was unconscious at the time. "It would be like the scene from Spiderman 2. The tentacles of Doc Oc killing everyone. Besides, the meds will wear off quicker than if it got rolled down."

"So glad you got it all planned out," Hector snapped, face white and strained. "Helps a shitton-"

"Alright," Isaiah interjected. "That's enough. Arnie is just trying to help," Isaiah said, giving the youngest a pointed look to just shut up. "Hex, anything we can do for you right now?"

"What would you want to do?!" Hector protested, growl in his voice. "Just want to go freaking home. What are you so slow for?"

Isaiah decided not to mention he was driving slowly because of Hector, to avoid the jostling as much as possible.

"Fucking grandma drives faster," Hector continued under his breath, but his eyes were open and more alert now as he watched the streets glide by the window.

Isaiah was relieved to finally reach Hector's apartment, though he took a deep breath to brace himself for the next part.

Hector put his hands on his knees experimentally, breaths coming in faster. He was scared of the walk.

"Arnie, go in first and open up for us, would you?" Isaiah suggested, for all their sakes. He didn't think struggling in front of Arnie made it any easier, nor was Arnie taking it very well.

Arnie dangled the keys in his hands and hurried out of the car. It swung left and right at the impact of the door slamming shut. Hector moaned quietly, hanging his head over his legs.

Isaiah opened and closed his doors gently, circling around slowly to let Hector prepare for it.

He opened the door and put a hand on Hector's nape. Sweat was clinging to his skin, and he felt warm and feverish.

"It won't be so bad. I'll help you," Isaiah said gently, rubbing his finger up and down on Hector's nape.

Hector straightened up, twitched at the movement, slowly swinging one leg out of the car. "Just-" he gulped, "just give me a minute?"

"Whenever you are ready. Take your time."

Hector closed his eyes for three more long breaths, then opened up with more fight in his eyes. "Okay."

Isaiah hugged him from the side so he could brace Hector's weight against him and pulled him up slowly. He aimed not to have Hector tense any of his stomach muscles to get upright.

Hector wrapped his arm around Isaiah’s neck, taking a fistful of his coat in his hand. He took a shaky breath but didn't protest being pulled up.

Isaiah took two steps to the side to close the door behind them and lock the car up. He wrapped his arm properly around Hector's middle, gripping it at his healthy side, half of his brother's weight on him. "Five minutes and you can lay down," he promised.

They made their way to the elevator, where Hector closed his eyes, slumping even more against Isaiah. "...how many more hours?"

"If we start counting from the moment the IV was removed and take 12 hours as the goal - around 10 hours and 40 minutes to go."

Hector pressed his lips together, murmuring something. "Keep the count for me?" he asked in a low voice, as if he were trying to find a nicer way to say it.

Isaiah readjusted his grip on him as the elevator arrived. "Of course."

Arnie left the door open for them. Isaiah didn't bother with the shoes and coats, dragging Hector to his room.

"Slowly now," he said as he helped him lower himself onto the bed. Getting down was as much of a challenge as getting up.

Hector let out a little groan as he sat down, white as a sheet from the short walk. He hunched over himself but didn't lie down immediately, letting Isaiah undo his shoes.

"It's Best if you just sleep through it," Isaiah said, gently helping Hector lay down against the pillows. He pushed the covers on top. It was a corner bed, so the wall was right next to them to lean on, and there was a TV hanging from the opposite wall.

Hector squirmed under the covers, face one big grimace. "Don't think I can sleep."

"Then let's find some low-energy distractions," Isaiah suggested. He got rid of his shoes and coat and climbed into the bed beside Hector. "Old movie or new? Something you like and could focus on what be good."

Hector's eyebrows knitted together in puzzlement at Isaiah, but he didn't comment on him inviting himself over.

Hector shifted around with his shoulders, comically lost in the covers. "Zaya? Could I- could you just get me something for this?" He pressed the words through his teeth.

"You are still on the meds from the hospital, there really isn't anything stronger here."

"Yeah, well that sucks," Hector said with a shudder. His hands pushed at the covers, digging into them with his fingers.

"We could try some ice on the wound. And maybe you could drink something?" Isaiah didn't like the sweat on Hector's forehead or the heat radiating from him even just sitting this close.

The doors creaked when Arnie stuck his head in. Isaiah quietly asked him what items to bring and added a thermometer for good measure.

"Is there no trick to this?" Hector said in a strangled voice, looking longingly at Isaiah's human-shaped shadow neatly tucked at the end of the bed without any light to explain the angle.

"Try calling for it as much as possible," Isaiah suggested. "I'm not experienced with drugs and medication, but the more you call it, the faster it tries to get back."

Hector curled up on his side, arms wrapped around his chest like he was cold. His forehead creased in concentration before he gasped for a breath, twisting in the pillows. "Doesn't work. I can't even...it's like reaching for something under the sofa. I know it's there, but I can't touch it." There was a hint of a whine in that sentence.

"Shhhhhhh. Then just let it be for a bit." The worst they could do was to get Hector upset. Isaiah put his hand on Hector's shoulder, almost by the neck, holding him steady as he took deep, ragged breaths.

Arnie tiptoed inside, bringing the ice wrapped in a kitchen towel, a glass of water and a thermometer. His fingertips were all chewed and bloody.

Isaiah sighed and whispered: "Go disinfect that and take a nap. I've got him." With Hector's shadow absent, he couldn't hear them.

Arnie looked at Isaiah with a glassy, scared look as if he weren't sure he really wanted to do this alone. Finally, he nodded. "Call me if you need something."

Hector shuffled under the covers so Isaiah could put the wrapped-up ice on top of the bandages. Hector winced at the contact before leaning back again. "Is he pissed off or something?"

"He is fine. Tired and worried," Isaiah said, sitting down properly against the wall. He turned on the TV, clicking between the channels until he found some kind of Tom Cruise action movie. "Are you sure you don't have a preference?"

"I don't have a list of favorites on the ready," Hector complained. "How the hell do you have time for that?"

Isaiah shrugged. "Movie night on Wednesdays, usually some kind of cinema or movie with Seline during the week and free weekend afternoons."

"What, Seline gives you breaks on the weekends?"

"Kinda. She is always out visiting her parents."

Hector gave him a look. "What? Why?"

"There are apparently parents worth visiting."

Hector frowned, silent for a long minute. Isaiah winced internally. Parents weren't a good topic by a stretch. Not since the whole reveal drama.

Hector rolled his head to look at the TV absently, though now he looked more dazed than focused. Isaiah hoped that was a sign he really would nod off to sleep. There were still 10 hours left.

"It's too freaking warm in here," Hector complained out of a sudden, scrambling up on shaky hands.

"What do you think you are doing?" Isaiah pushed him back, getting out of bed nimbly to open the window. "I'll do it. Just stay put."

Hector lifted himself up on the pillows a little, face scrunching up. "I don't feel well."

Isaiah got back onto the bed. "I know. It will just be a bit longer."

"No, like for real. I don't-" he hiccuped, pressing a hand to his lips. "I feel sick." He looked at Isaiah with wide eyes. "I don't want to throw up. It's hurting like a bitch as it is, Zaya, please-"

"Okay, okay, I got you." Isaiah had no idea what he was doing, but the pleading had his ribcage squeezing like he couldn't get in any air. He helped Hector to sit a bit more upright, leaning him against his side, his own arms wrapped around Hector's chest to hold him up. "Take deep breaths. There is fresh air coming from the window and you got nothing to throw up anyway. Just breathe."

"Make it stop," Hector sobbed, pressing his hands against Isaiah's on his chest. "It hurts."

"I know, buddy, I know. Shhhh. I'm right here." Isaiah held him as tight as he dared. Hector's head, now pressed against his neck, radiated heat like a furnace. No wonder he was so whiny.

"You wouldn't have a problem with something like this," Hector whimpered, a shiver running through him. "You would be fine. Even Arnie would be fine, it's just me-"

"Oh, shut it," Isaiah said sternly. "You are plenty resilient. You train day and night, you think I can't see it? It's like you are made of steel. That's not something you get from a shadow or because you are a wolf. And training is basically pain and learning to accept and like pain, and you got that."

"Then tell me how to do it," Hector demanded, swallowing heavily.

"I told you. Sleep, being comfy, movies, distraction-"

"Yeah, sure, cause that's how you do it. With your training and experience-"

"And you think that's an advantage?" Isaiah blurted out. "After all this time? I got pretty nasty things out of that torture crap too, just so you know. I did it so you wouldn't have to and now you are jealous of it? Jesus fucking Christ."

Maybe that was not the right thing to say at such a time, cause Hector was crying now, big fat tears streaming down his face. "Sorry, I'm sorry..." he hiccuped and then gagged.

Isaiah leaned forward along with him, holding his shoulders from behind as Hector heaved emptily over the sheets and the bed, shuddering with the pain, hands at his side.

"Shhhhhh. It's okay. Take deep breaths now. You are alright," Isaiah repeated over and over.

There was truly nothing for Hector to bring up, so Isaiah leaned back again, pulling Hector after him against his chest again. Thumbing the tears on his cheeks away with his hands, Isaiah's insides shook as if he were the one heaving.

"I'm sorry," Hector whimpered after a while with a sniffle. "I'm really sorry."

Isaiah stared at the ceiling tiredly. "I forgive you." He wrapped his hands snuggly around his brother. "Just don't say shit like that again."

They stayed in heavy silence for a while, Isaiah counting Hector's harsh breaths until they came more rhythmically.

"Tell me something that helps you," Hector said quietly. "Something that matters to you. Something real."

"That will help distract you? Really?" Isaiah said dryly. His chest was hurting at the conversation, at seeing Hector this weak and pained, at the issue being brought up at all.

Hector coiled up into a ball against him, which was the weirdest position since he wasn't a small man in the slightest.

"It helps to imagine it like a circle," Isaiah said into the silence. "A circle around where it hurts, like the pain gets trapped there. Like it can't get further and I can chase it out by cutting it off oxygen, attention, blood stream."

Hector made a little noise at the back of his throat, the side of his face pressing into Isaiah's chest. Over his heart.

"It helps not to be alone. I had to be for a long time, but now I don't and...and it helps, I think."

Hector closed his eyes, nodding against him.

"And the last thing...I don't know if it will work for you..."

Hector tensed against him with a little groan of pain.

"I really do like the movies," Isaiah said.

Hector waited in shocked silence at the words before giving a hoarse little chuckle, snuggling closer. "You are such an ass."

"If you don't pick, I will," Isaiah said, a tentative smile playing on his lips. 

[writing-whump]

Hi souppp!! This is like my first ever ask so sorry if there any issues. But I would just like to ask if there any specific blogs that have emeto sickfics because I’ve been looking for some and I’ve found none..

P.S, I love you’re ur stories🤍🤍

-🌊 anon

Hi 🌊 anon!!

Is there anything in specific you're looking for, anon?

Off the top of my head:

@sickly-qt @secretobsessionstuff @writing-whump @lisupandowntown @salembutnotthecat @tomato-sickfics @wussifer (Wussifer likes colds best, I believe), @wordsmithwhumpsandfluff @spoonsandcabbage @1heartsickfics @ethereousdelirious @boysbellyrubs @rebelwhump @areyougonnathrowup @angstyaches (Flick is on hiatus tho!)

[writing-whump]

Hey! I'm new around Tumblr and since the first day I found your blog.. I'm literally obsessed with your fictions!! Love the fictions, characters... I think you're one of the bests 💕💕Especially, I love Hector and Isiah, bromanceee!💖

Umm, when you have time and done with the fics on your list, would you consider a new one about Hector who's reeeally sick with high fever (and some other symptoms which is totally up to your imagination) and Isiah taking care of him?? I'd really love to read that!

♡Thank you with sharing these characters and world with us!

Hello nonny and welcome! That's so sweet of you to say, thank you so much🥰💕 This really fit as continuation for sick feverish Hector after his appendicitis operation, so here you go 😊

Appendicitis Aftermath

Arnie was biting his nails. Isaiah was seriously considering if he shouldn't point it out, because it was climbing up his fried nerves.

Arnie sat in the backseat, without a seat belt so he could hover in the middle between Isaiah behind the wheel and Hector.

One would say Isaiah would be used to being called to a crisis with his brothers in the middle of the night by now. However, it didn't get easier with practice.

Arnie was nearly in tears, mumbling about Hector, an operation, and an unruly shadow, which sent Isaiah into a panic. Turned rather anticlimactic when he arrived at the hospital.

Hector had appendicitis. The operation was routine, small, nothing serious. They caught it on time. Except the shadow was a problem. Isaiah was all ready to roll it down for his brother, when the medics came with the idea they could just drug him up with heavy stuff.

Hector was a wolf, meaning he couldn't heal an inflammation, infection, or sickness, but if they took the appendix out, his shadow would be able to heal the wound afterward. He didn't have to stay in the hospital; they even allowed them to take him home.

They needed only to wait for his shadow to recover.

Until then, Hector was stitched up and with bandages over the wound, hurting like any mortal would.

Another quiet crack as Arnie bit into the nail on his forefinger, fidgeting on Isaiah's right.

Hector was pale, holding himself rigidly in the seat. His eyes were closed, but he took those carefully measured breaths that told Isaiah he wasn't asleep.

The car jostled over a bump and Hector hissed quietly, jerking his head.

"Sorry about that. Almost home, buddy," Isaiah said, planting his hand on Hector's leg for a second to reassure him. Hector said nothing, curling onto himself.

"You'll be fine—humans undergo these operations every day and recover well." Arnie leaned in closer, a ball of nervous energy. Surprisingly so, since he slept even less than Isaiah, calling the ambulance at 3 in the morning.

Isaiah understood Arnie was trying to play the situation down, appealing to Hector's pride so he wouldn't let the pain get to him so much, but he didn't think it was currently helping.

Hector was simply in pain—one that wasn't leaving, wasn't getting better, and wouldn't be healed by his shadow for the next 12 hours at the least. This was not a good forecast for a wolf not used to endure pain, but there was no way to play it down.

Isaiah didn't have it in him to admonish Arnie though. His two younger brothers knew each other better than he knew them, he didn't dare. He understood Arnie was stressed out about it - he was even acutely aware of the fact.

One of the reasons why he found sharing his pain, sickness or weakness absolutely unacceptable with his brothers. He would not put Arnie through such an experience if he could help it. He never did, actually.

But he had failed in front of Hector one or two times about that, so he understood that too. Besides, it would probably be healthier to admit it, if they knew how to handle it right.

"Shit," Hector grunted, pressing his forehead against the window, hands gingerly around his stomach, just above the wound. "Stupid fucking medics, taking my shadow away."

"They couldn't work around it," Arnie said defensively, feeling involved in the decision since Hector was unconscious at the time. "It would be like the scene from Spiderman 2. The tentacles of Doc Oc killing everyone. Besides, the meds will wear off quicker than if it got rolled down."

"So glad you got it all planned out," Hector snapped, face white and strained. "Helps a shitton-"

"Alright," Isaiah interjected. "That's enough. Arnie is just trying to help," Isaiah said, giving the youngest a pointed look to just shut up. "Hex, anything we can do for you right now?"

"What would you want to do?!" Hector protested, growl in his voice. "Just want to go freaking home. What are you so slow for?"

Isaiah decided not to mention he was driving slowly because of Hector, to avoid the jostling as much as possible.

"Fucking grandma drives faster," Hector continued under his breath, but his eyes were open and more alert now as he watched the streets glide by the window.

Isaiah was relieved to finally reach Hector's apartment, though he took a deep breath to brace himself for the next part.

Hector put his hands on his knees experimentally, breaths coming in faster. He was scared of the walk.

"Arnie, go in first and open up for us, would you?" Isaiah suggested, for all their sakes. He didn't think struggling in front of Arnie made it any easier, nor was Arnie taking it very well.

Arnie dangled the keys in his hands and hurried out of the car. It swung left and right at the impact of the door slamming shut. Hector moaned quietly, hanging his head over his legs.

Isaiah opened and closed his doors gently, circling around slowly to let Hector prepare for it.

He opened the door and put a hand on Hector's nape. Sweat was clinging to his skin, and he felt warm and feverish.

"It won't be so bad. I'll help you," Isaiah said gently, rubbing his finger up and down on Hector's nape.

Hector straightened up, twitched at the movement, slowly swinging one leg out of the car. "Just-" he gulped, "just give me a minute?"

"Whenever you are ready. Take your time."

Hector closed his eyes for three more long breaths, then opened up with more fight in his eyes. "Okay."

Isaiah hugged him from the side so he could brace Hector's weight against him and pulled him up slowly. He aimed not to have Hector tense any of his stomach muscles to get upright.

Hector wrapped his arm around Isaiah’s neck, taking a fistful of his coat in his hand. He took a shaky breath but didn't protest being pulled up.

Isaiah took two steps to the side to close the door behind them and lock the car up. He wrapped his arm properly around Hector's middle, gripping it at his healthy side, half of his brother's weight on him. "Five minutes and you can lay down," he promised.

They made their way to the elevator, where Hector closed his eyes, slumping even more against Isaiah. "...how many more hours?"

"If we start counting from the moment the IV was removed and take 12 hours as the goal - around 10 hours and 40 minutes to go."

Hector pressed his lips together, murmuring something. "Keep the count for me?" he asked in a low voice, as if he were trying to find a nicer way to say it.

Isaiah readjusted his grip on him as the elevator arrived. "Of course."

Arnie left the door open for them. Isaiah didn't bother with the shoes and coats, dragging Hector to his room.

"Slowly now," he said as he helped him lower himself onto the bed. Getting down was as much of a challenge as getting up.

Hector let out a little groan as he sat down, white as a sheet from the short walk. He hunched over himself but didn't lie down immediately, letting Isaiah undo his shoes.

"It's Best if you just sleep through it," Isaiah said, gently helping Hector lay down against the pillows. He pushed the covers on top. It was a corner bed, so the wall was right next to them to lean on, and there was a TV hanging from the opposite wall.

Hector squirmed under the covers, face one big grimace. "Don't think I can sleep."

"Then let's find some low-energy distractions," Isaiah suggested. He got rid of his shoes and coat and climbed into the bed beside Hector. "Old movie or new? Something you like and could focus on what be good."

Hector's eyebrows knitted together in puzzlement at Isaiah, but he didn't comment on him inviting himself over.

Hector shifted around with his shoulders, comically lost in the covers. "Zaya? Could I- could you just get me something for this?" He pressed the words through his teeth.

"You are still on the meds from the hospital, there really isn't anything stronger here."

"Yeah, well that sucks," Hector said with a shudder. His hands pushed at the covers, digging into them with his fingers.

"We could try some ice on the wound. And maybe you could drink something?" Isaiah didn't like the sweat on Hector's forehead or the heat radiating from him even just sitting this close.

The doors creaked when Arnie stuck his head in. Isaiah quietly asked him what items to bring and added a thermometer for good measure.

"Is there no trick to this?" Hector said in a strangled voice, looking longingly at Isaiah's human-shaped shadow neatly tucked at the end of the bed without any light to explain the angle.

"Try calling for it as much as possible," Isaiah suggested. "I'm not experienced with drugs and medication, but the more you call it, the faster it tries to get back."

Hector curled up on his side, arms wrapped around his chest like he was cold. His forehead creased in concentration before he gasped for a breath, twisting in the pillows. "Doesn't work. I can't even...it's like reaching for something under the sofa. I know it's there, but I can't touch it." There was a hint of a whine in that sentence.

"Shhhhhhh. Then just let it be for a bit." The worst they could do was to get Hector upset. Isaiah put his hand on Hector's shoulder, almost by the neck, holding him steady as he took deep, ragged breaths.

Arnie tiptoed inside, bringing the ice wrapped in a kitchen towel, a glass of water and a thermometer. His fingertips were all chewed and bloody.

Isaiah sighed and whispered: "Go disinfect that and take a nap. I've got him." With Hector's shadow absent, he couldn't hear them.

Arnie looked at Isaiah with a glassy, scared look as if he weren't sure he really wanted to do this alone. Finally, he nodded. "Call me if you need something."

Hector shuffled under the covers so Isaiah could put the wrapped-up ice on top of the bandages. Hector winced at the contact before leaning back again. "Is he pissed off or something?"

"He is fine. Tired and worried," Isaiah said, sitting down properly against the wall. He turned on the TV, clicking between the channels until he found some kind of Tom Cruise action movie. "Are you sure you don't have a preference?"

"I don't have a list of favorites on the ready," Hector complained. "How the hell do you have time for that?"

Isaiah shrugged. "Movie night on Wednesdays, usually some kind of cinema or movie with Seline during the week and free weekend afternoons."

"What, Seline gives you breaks on the weekends?"

"Kinda. She is always out visiting her parents."

Hector gave him a look. "What? Why?"

"There are apparently parents worth visiting."

Hector frowned, silent for a long minute. Isaiah winced internally. Parents weren't a good topic by a stretch. Not since the whole reveal drama.

Hector rolled his head to look at the TV absently, though now he looked more dazed than focused. Isaiah hoped that was a sign he really would nod off to sleep. There were still 10 hours left.

"It's too freaking warm in here," Hector complained out of a sudden, scrambling up on shaky hands.

"What do you think you are doing?" Isaiah pushed him back, getting out of bed nimbly to open the window. "I'll do it. Just stay put."

Hector lifted himself up on the pillows a little, face scrunching up. "I don't feel well."

Isaiah got back onto the bed. "I know. It will just be a bit longer."

"No, like for real. I don't-" he hiccuped, pressing a hand to his lips. "I feel sick." He looked at Isaiah with wide eyes. "I don't want to throw up. It's hurting like a bitch as it is, Zaya, please-"

"Okay, okay, I got you." Isaiah had no idea what he was doing, but the pleading had his ribcage squeezing like he couldn't get in any air. He helped Hector to sit a bit more upright, leaning him against his side, his own arms wrapped around Hector's chest to hold him up. "Take deep breaths. There is fresh air coming from the window and you got nothing to throw up anyway. Just breathe."

"Make it stop," Hector sobbed, pressing his hands against Isaiah's on his chest. "It hurts."

"I know, buddy, I know. Shhhh. I'm right here." Isaiah held him as tight as he dared. Hector's head, now pressed against his neck, radiated heat like a furnace. No wonder he was so whiny.

"You wouldn't have a problem with something like this," Hector whimpered, a shiver running through him. "You would be fine. Even Arnie would be fine, it's just me-"

"Oh, shut it," Isaiah said sternly. "You are plenty resilient. You train day and night, you think I can't see it? It's like you are made of steel. That's not something you get from a shadow or because you are a wolf. And training is basically pain and learning to accept and like pain, and you got that."

"Then tell me how to do it," Hector demanded, swallowing heavily.

"I told you. Sleep, being comfy, movies, distraction-"

"Yeah, sure, cause that's how you do it. With your training and experience-"

"And you think that's an advantage?" Isaiah blurted out. "After all this time? I got pretty nasty things out of that torture crap too, just so you know. I did it so you wouldn't have to and now you are jealous of it? Jesus fucking Christ."

Maybe that was not the right thing to say at such a time, cause Hector was crying now, big fat tears streaming down his face. "Sorry, I'm sorry..." he hiccuped and then gagged.

Isaiah leaned forward along with him, holding his shoulders from behind as Hector heaved emptily over the sheets and the bed, shuddering with the pain, hands at his side.

"Shhhhhh. It's okay. Take deep breaths now. You are alright," Isaiah repeated over and over.

There was truly nothing for Hector to bring up, so Isaiah leaned back again, pulling Hector after him against his chest again. Thumbing the tears on his cheeks away with his hands, Isaiah's insides shook as if he were the one heaving.

"I'm sorry," Hector whimpered after a while with a sniffle. "I'm really sorry."

Isaiah stared at the ceiling tiredly. "I forgive you." He wrapped his hands snuggly around his brother. "Just don't say shit like that again."

They stayed in heavy silence for a while, Isaiah counting Hector's harsh breaths until they came more rhythmically.

"Tell me something that helps you," Hector said quietly. "Something that matters to you. Something real."

"That will help distract you? Really?" Isaiah said dryly. His chest was hurting at the conversation, at seeing Hector this weak and pained, at the issue being brought up at all.

Hector coiled up into a ball against him, which was the weirdest position since he wasn't a small man in the slightest.

"It helps to imagine it like a circle," Isaiah said into the silence. "A circle around where it hurts, like the pain gets trapped there. Like it can't get further and I can chase it out by cutting it off oxygen, attention, blood stream."

Hector made a little noise at the back of his throat, the side of his face pressing into Isaiah's chest. Over his heart.

"It helps not to be alone. I had to be for a long time, but now I don't and...and it helps, I think."

Hector closed his eyes, nodding against him.

"And the last thing...I don't know if it will work for you..."

Hector tensed against him with a little groan of pain.

"I really do like the movies," Isaiah said.

Hector waited in shocked silence at the words before giving a hoarse little chuckle, snuggling closer. "You are such an ass."

"If you don't pick, I will," Isaiah said, a tentative smile playing on his lips. 

[writing-whump]

Any preference for the pov for part 2 of the sick Hector story?

[writing-whump]

I'm in the fluffiest mood lately, so how about a no stakes sickfic. Movie night and the trip (Matt, Sel/Zaya) are home and decide to put on something like spiderverse or smth else, point being, either Isaiah or Matt gets super motion sick from it

Something fluffy it is. Thank you for the ask, Soup!!💙

Cinema sickness

The middle position was the best.

Matthew didn't notice when exactly they started to fight for it like that, but it was increasingly a place one of them got as special treat.

Like of course, when Isaiah was having his not so heart episodes that Seline still didn't know the cause of or when he was emotional. Then it wad Seline herself with a fever. She also usurped the spot most openly when she was well.

Matthew was a little too emebrassed to be that forward. Not when he was feeling fine.

They bought a camera projector they have been saving for a few months. Seline dreamed about the home cinema early on and Isaiah was such a movie buff, it was only to be expected.

Matthew found the cinema experience tiresome because of all the people, so their own private living room cinema because of the projector? Sounded fun. Though the cinema made for good people training.

"You guys didn't watch the second Spiderverse movie yet, right?" Seline said, taking control of the chromcast with her phone to put it on.

"I didn't see the first one either," Matthew grumbled as she climbed up between him and Isaiah who was scrolling through IMDb. He had a thing for ratings, while Seline loved comments and spoilers.

Matthew considered himself the only sane and commonly invested movie person. He liked to get surprised.

"The animation is out of this world. The first movie got an Oscar for it too, but they went overboard and beyond with the second. Each universe has a different animation style! It's the perfect movie for a cinema." Seline waved her phone in front of Matthew enthusiastically.

"Isn't animation for children?"

Isaiah and Seline both gave him scandalised looks. "In what hole did you live until now for such an outdated opinion?" Isaiah asked teasingly.

Matthew rolled his eyes. Didn't look like he would have a say today.

"I don't think you need the first one to understand," Seline said thoughtfully as she put the movie on. "They explain it pretty well, plus I can always explain things to you if you need it."

"You are still more of a fan of the first one, aren't you?" Isaiah said, bumping against her. They were sitting shoulder to shoulder, all three of them.

"I think the character development is simply better there? Also the relationships. The focus on bad mentor and a confused kid and different father figured...this one goes more into the romance storyline-"

"The focus just shifts from him to her's all-"

Matthew shook his head. "Alright, quit it. I want to see for myself."

The movie looked like a very expensive video game. The animation really was something else. Matthew understood quickly they would not be able to film stuff like this for real.

So many colours and so much quick movement. Their living room wall was basically flickering, going from one side of the colour spectrum to the next at rapid speed that had his head spinning.

How could there be so much happening on the screen? It was downright impossible to catch it all.

His eyes felt tired from it. It was all so fast and coupled with the music it was downright aggressive.

Matthew didn't notice when, but the left side of his head felt like someone held it in a vice grip. The more he watched and tried to make sense of what was happening, the more his left temple pounded in unison with his heart.

He found himself shaking his head to clear his vision, rubbing at the side of his face. He even tried closing one eye and then the other. But the images just kept coming and there was some kind of dramatic scene with spidermen all over the screen and damn, his head really hurt.

Seline was leaning her head against Isaiah's shoulder, her legs stretched out and touching them both. Her lap seemed very inviting.

Matt leaned to the side experimentally. He wanted to go slow and see how that would be taken, but the possibility of getting some cover from the screen was getting more irresistible by the second.

He slumped down into Seline's lap, twisting so his face was against her stomach. The lights were all over the living room, reaching even to the windows and the kitchen. No hiding from them.

Matthew closed his eyes, face buried in Seline's belly. He secured her from squirming with his arm over her torso, stretched out all the way to Isaiah's tight. If the other wolf wanted to protest or made any move of displeasure, Matt would quickly notice from that position.

His head hurt. Why just the left side of his face? It was tingling.

Everything was moving too much. The dizzying spinning sensation didn't quite go away, although he had his eyes squeezed shut and wasn't looking.

Not to mention he was starting to feel vaguely queasy, his dinner sloshing in his stomach angrily.

"Mattie, you aren't watching," Seline admonished softly. Her hand went into his hair though, petting it softly. He melted under her touch, grateful for a pleasant feeling to focus on.

Suddenly there was the incredible sound of the movie stopping.

"Matt? You tired?" Isaiah asked, shifting somewhere behind his head.

"Mhhhhhhhhmmmm." Was he that obvious? Suspicious? He wanted to stay huddled there in the softness, thanks.

Isaiah's hand landed on his arm. The older wolf reserved his touches for when Matthew felt sick. But they were so physically close these days, because of Seline of course, no other reason, Matthew kind of craved it, even when he didn't need it.

Or maybe it would count now. But he didn't want to ruin the celebratory mood by being a baby. It was a stupid children's movie, for God's sake.

"We can just call it a night, I think. Continuation tomorrow," Isaiah suggested, ever the peace keeper trying to accommodate everyone.

It sounded nice to not continue the movie in any case. But going to bed created a new set of problems.

Matthew would have to move.

Seline wiggled under his head. "You are heavy," she said playfully. She seemed more open to the gesture than Matthew expected. For no reason at all.

Matthew hummed non-committalally not sure how to explain or escape his predicament without losing his dinner. His stomach was churning angrily and his head was still pounding, sound or not.

Isaiah chucked. "You can sleep here for all I care, but at least let the lady get her PJs."

Matthew huffed at that, but opening his mouth wasn't a good idea. A little burp escaped, muffled against Seline's ribcage.

Seline's fingers in his hair stilled. "Mattie? You feeling alright?"

Did she notice that he got burpy when he was about to spew? He could just be full. Damn it all, the risks of living with people so closely.

Another burp, this time a little louder and wetter. Matthew pressed his face closer into Seline's shirt. It smelled of rain and ozone and grapefruit.

He felt both of their gazes on him without looking. They were probably mouthing something to each other at this point. He could picture it vividly.

The pain in his left temple spiked and he moaned quietly.

Seline's cold hand cupped his nape, stroking his neck up to his cheek where she could reach.

"...If I move, I'll hurl," he admitted finally, figuring he should inform her of the danger she was currently in.

The sigh came from Isaiah though, as the raven haired man moved gently away from the sofa into the direction of the kitchen.

"What's wrong? Is your belly upset?"

Jesus, that sounded childish when she said it like that. Not to mention that weird new Mattie nickname.

"Headhurtss," he manged to get through his gritted teeth, still entirely muffled against her stomach. It was quiet, churning only gently, like a purring cat.

"Has it been hurting for long?" She sounded amazingly calm considering he was lying across her lap. "You seemed fine to me," she said with puzzlement. He could imagine the way her forehead creased, a little wrinkle between her eyebrows as she thought back about the evening.

He opened his mouth the respond, but another burp rushed out instead. Pocket of air against her stomach. Saliva was flooding his mouth.

Matthew loosed his hold on her reluctantly, turning so he would be lying on her knees. He covered his eyes with his hands. "Ow."

Seline placed her hands on both sides of his face. "Where?" Her voice was impossibly soft.

He pushed her cool hand - how was it so cool? - against the left side of his forehead.

He felt more than saw two of her fingertips on his temple, making tiny circular movements against it. She bowled over him, her lips hovering over his ear. "How is this? Should I stop?"

"No, that's nice," he said, relaxing a little. The gentle pressure felt good against the pain, though his stomach was still roiling.

Isaiah came back then, the sofa dipping under his weight as he knelt on Matthew's other side. "I got a bowl if you need it."

"Not the nice popcorn bowl, come on," Seline complained, lifting her head.

"It's big and deep," Isaiah protested, sounding amused.

Matthew groaned at the banter. The headache was giving away a bit at the message, but the nausea rose steadily no matter what he did. He felt air in his throat and spit flooding his mouth. He didn't want to move away from Seline's fingers or the attention, but his stomach cramped angrily then.

It had him shooting up into general direction of up. Except he felt dizzy right away, swaying and moaning.

Isaiah grabbed his shoulder to steady him.

Matthew held his eyes shut against the spinning of the room, trusting him to have the bowl at the right place, cause he couldn't aim. His head exploded on his left side with the sensation and puke rocketed into his mouth.

He was right to trust him. The vomit made a splashing sound against the bowl without him even looking, Isaiah holding it under hid chin.

Seline's hands came to cup his forehead from behind. "You are okay, you are okay. Just get it up."

Matthew gave in to his body completely then, a little more voluntarily at the support. His senses were all over the place. He couldn't tell which was was up and down and his left side of the face as pounding and burning from warmth.

More waves of vomit came, easier to bring up now that he wasn't fighting it. When he thought he would catch a break, a loud burp brought in one more splash and then two more. His back arched, only Isaiah's hold on his shoulder keeping him upright. The sofa was moving like a water bed.

When he was finished, he spat the rest of the foul taste and slumped blindly back into Seline's lap. He wanted her nice scent and her cool hands and the little message against his temple that had a drilling machine against it.

"Better now?" she asked, her hands on his face just like he wanted, stroking his cheek and forehead.

"Mhhhhhhhhhmmmm." There was a relief from the nausea, but he was still afraid to open his eyes.

He could vaguely sense Isaiah's movements as he got rid of the bowl, returned to position it next to Matthew. Then circled around, fitting himself into the opening between Matthew's side and the sofa.

Matthew wasn't sure when vomiting because a group activity, or if he shouldn't apologise or feel embarrassed for making a fool of himself.

He sighed contendly as Seline went back to massaging his temple. Isaiah was rubbing his arm gently, as if to remind him he was there.

And who was Matthew to refuse the middle spot?

[writing-whump]

THE PACIFIC APPRECIATION WEEK 2023 | day three | HURT/COMFORT

[writing-whump]

Any preference for the pov for part 2 of the sick Hector story?

[writing-whump]

Omggg "something serious" was amazing, thank you💖 Can't wait for part 2!!! I was one of the ones who asked for sth like this and I'm reeeaallly excited for part 2, I wonder what's going on with Hector 🙌🏻

~will part 2 contain Isiah too?? I would love to see him worrying for Hector 🥺😅 poor Hector doesn't seem like to be heal that quick this time, he is in so much pain:((

Thank you, nonny!

So glad you liked it!🥰

And yes, definitely bringing Isaiah in for the next part, seems to be the desired scenario 😉 I'm so glad you guys like the brotherly focus.

That was an appendicitis thing, which requires a bit of an operation, even for a wolf. Not something to heal away that quick...stay tuned 😊💙✨️

[writing-whump]

Would loveeee to see hector super sick and feverish with a stomach bug where all he wants is to be comforted by Isaiah/Arnie/both- just love his softer side- pretty sure he’s a softie deep down 🤭

Hey nonny! Thank you for the request!! Found a good way to insert it. This will have a part 2 for another request hehe.

Something serious

Hector burst through the door, heading straight for the kitchen without a word of greeting.

Arnie was not taking it personally, but he was curious about what kind of hunger spree made Hector so desperate.

He got up from the couch to check. "Did you skip lunch or-?

Except Hector wasn't riding their fridge. He was braced over the kitchen sink and retching loudly.

"Oi. Okay," Arnie said with a wince as a huge gush of puke hit the bottom of the granite. "What happened to you?"

"Ate-uuurp-too fast." Hector burped up another mouthful before spitting and letting the faucet run over the mess.

"Really? Wasn't something off about the food?" Hector's speed and capacity were way too impressive for this to happen easily.

Hector swiped his wrist over his mouth, sweaty all over.

Arnie tore off a handful of kitchen towels and handed it to him.

Hector took it gratefully, mopping his face and mouth. "I was so hungry at lunch that my stomach hurt. Must have eaten too quick, cause I got queasy on the way." Hector put a hand on his belly as it whined loudly. For puking just a minute ago, his stomach looked distended, as if he was still full.

"Sure it was hunger? Maybe you were getting down with something and ate lunch on top," Arnie sighed, grabbing Hector by the elbow to steer him towards the living room. "How many times do I have to say that you shouldn't eat, when your stomach is hurting?"

Hector was feeling crappy enough to follow Arnie's guidance, flopping down on the couch and curling his hands protectively around his middle. "Ugh. Thought it would help."

Arnie rolled his eyes. ""It's always the same with you—no restraint. Listening to your body's signals could have spared you from all this puking."

Hector huffed. "Stop lecturing, snotnose, and get me some water."

Arnie stuck his tongue at him, but obeyed, getting some cold water from the kitchen, checking if the sink was clean on the way.

Hector gulped down the water greedily, even as Arnie patted his hand. "Slow down, you'll make yourself sick again."

To be fair, Hector tried to slow the tempo before it picked up again. Arnie sat down next to him with a grimace. No helping that.

"You want to watch something and take it easy?" Arnie asked, putting the back of his hand to Hector's forehead. He was a little warm. "I think you should rest. Looks like a flu to me."

Hector, feeling evidently better, swatted his hand away. "And whose fault is that? You're the only flu spreader around. Damn human germs."

Arnie gave him another eye roll. "Your immunity needs some work then, if you catch things that I don't even have symptoms for."

Arnie put on a rerun of Big Bang Theory, which was usually so foreign and boring to Hector that it put him to sleep. And he was right, his older brother was snoring away, head lolling to the armrest, in a few minutes.

After two episodes, Hector stirred though, grimacing with a moan.

"You want a blanket?" Arnie asked quietly as Hector curled into himself, although he could see some more sweat beading on his neck.

"Nah. Think I'm just going to sleep this off in the bed," Hector said, not bothering to muffle a burp as he got up clumsily. His hand shot up to cradle the top of his belly like it was about to fall open.

"You sure you didn't eat something spicy at lunch?" Arnie said, watching him stumble out with another burp. "You get disgusting like that every time."

Hector gave him an angry glare. "I do not. I can handle spicy food."

Arnie snorted. "Yeah, yeah. Tell that to someone who doesn't have to live with you and hear all the consequences."

Hector grunted something crude on his way, which caused Arnie to chuckle.

It wouldn't be unusual in the slightest if he did eat something spicy and then played it off as a flu just to not feel embarrassed.

It would be fine. Hector was a grumpy patient, even if it was the flu, but as long as he stopped eating and took a day off, he would be fine.

Wolves were so senstive to pain. Just a bit of discomfort, and they were all dramatic and moaning. Hector more than most. Physical injuries he got rid of with his shadow, so any sickness, cold, or flu that wouldn't heal had him up in arms and whiny. Arnie had gotten used to not taking it too seriously.

Arnie watched a few more episodes, checking his phone and dozed off on the couch himself.

He went to check on Hector, but he looked peacefully asleep in the bed.

Arnie prepared him a glass of water and a bucket, just in case. Leaving the door open and satisfied with his precautions, he went to his own room, catching the sleeping wave before it was worse off.

...

Arnie woke up to the harsh sounds of throaty retches. Scrambling up a little slow from sleep, he braced himself on the doorframe in Hector's room, switching the small bedside table lamp on.

Hector didn't even get up, hunched over the bed and heaving over the bucket.

What did, however, get up was his shadow. It was sprawling across the wall behind the bed and wiggling uneasily across the floor.

Arnie stepped around it gingerly. Hector's shadow wouldn't hurt him, he knew, but it was a scary big thing to crawl around his feet.

Despite Hector's best efforts, the bucket was basically empty, only spits of yellow bile inside.

Arnie sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed sleepily. Always so dramatic with Hector.

"Hex, you got nothing inside you, you are empty," he said, patting his back.

"Doesn't-doesn't feel like it-" Hector coughed between heaves.

He moaned, clutching the side of his belly as he lay back down, breathing harshly. "That freaking hurt."

"Flu it is," Arnie said with a yawn. "You are heaving even when running on empty."

"Then why the hell does it hurt?" Hector complained, sniffling. Arnie admonished himself for not bringing some more paper towels, too.

"It's normal to get cramps during the flu-"

"No, not crampy" Hector protested through gritted teeth. "It fucking hurts. And the pain travels."

Arnie frowned. "Travels? What?"

"The spot," Hector said, clutching at the right side of his stomach. It was still bloated, even though he had nothing to vomit. Arnie's eyebrows scrunched even more. This was starting to get weird.

"It was in the middle and now it's freaking here and it feels like someone stabbed me," Hector said angrily, just a breath away from whining. His shadow made an aggressive, wavy motion above their heads.

Arnie rubbed at his eyes, much more alert now. "So to sum it up - you felt sick during lunch, thought it was hunger, threw up at home and you were in pain since then?"

"I - I felt kind of off yesterday too, but like...just sluggish? Thought I was tired." Hector rolled onto his back, hands sliding lower on his ride side.

Arnie leaned in closer. "Show me." He gently pried Hector's hands away, lifting up his shirt. His stomach was still so blown up, but he could see nothing on the spot. It seemed too specific for a place though, lower right abdomen...he pushed his hands around, trying to find some kind of physical proof, a bump or swell. Hector didn't protest his poking, eyes closed and pinched.

Arnie was the one with any basic knowledge of human anatomy and complications, since Hector always insisted that were human weaknesses that had nothing to do with him.

Arnie retracted his hands with a sigh, considering writing it off as a cramp lasting too long, when Hector whimpered. Like a real little whimper. He locked his limbs together, arms around his stomach again, tears leaking out. His shadow all but flooded the damn room, swinging angrily from one side to the other at Hector's pain.

"What, what did I do?" Arnie asked in panic, falling to his knees on the floor and taking Hector's forearm in both hands. "Hex? Hex, what-"

Hector twitched under his hands, twisting his face into the sheets as a trickle of bile came out of the corner of his mouth.

"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry!" Arnie said, pressing his forehead to Hector's as his older brother rode the pain out.

Hector said nothing, another little whimper coming up.

Arnie got up as quickly as he could to grab his phone. He dialed up the ambulance and called as he returned, not wanting to leave Hector alone.

"Noooo, no hospital," Hector whined pitifully.

"Yes, we have to," Arnie said in a strangled noise, putting his free hand on Hector's shoulder. "Please. Trust me. This is something serious."

With great effort, Hector pulled a hand away from his stomach and clutched Arnie's forearm, breathing raggedly as they both waited for the medics.

[writing-whump]

Would loveeee to see hector super sick and feverish with a stomach bug where all he wants is to be comforted by Isaiah/Arnie/both- just love his softer side- pretty sure he’s a softie deep down 🤭

Hey nonny! Thank you for the request!! Found a good way to insert it. This will have a part 2 for another request hehe.

Something serious

Hector burst through the door, heading straight for the kitchen without a word of greeting.

Arnie was not taking it personally, but he was curious about what kind of hunger spree made Hector so desperate.

He got up from the couch to check. "Did you skip lunch or-?

Except Hector wasn't riding their fridge. He was braced over the kitchen sink and retching loudly.

"Oi. Okay," Arnie said with a wince as a huge gush of puke hit the bottom of the granite. "What happened to you?"

"Ate-uuurp-too fast." Hector burped up another mouthful before spitting and letting the faucet run over the mess.

"Really? Wasn't something off about the food?" Hector's speed and capacity were way too impressive for this to happen easily.

Hector swiped his wrist over his mouth, sweaty all over.

Arnie tore off a handful of kitchen towels and handed it to him.

Hector took it gratefully, mopping his face and mouth. "I was so hungry at lunch that my stomach hurt. Must have eaten too quick, cause I got queasy on the way." Hector put a hand on his belly as it whined loudly. For puking just a minute ago, his stomach looked distended, as if he was still full.

"Sure it was hunger? Maybe you were getting down with something and ate lunch on top," Arnie sighed, grabbing Hector by the elbow to steer him towards the living room. "How many times do I have to say that you shouldn't eat, when your stomach is hurting?"

Hector was feeling crappy enough to follow Arnie's guidance, flopping down on the couch and curling his hands protectively around his middle. "Ugh. Thought it would help."

Arnie rolled his eyes. ""It's always the same with you—no restraint. Listening to your body's signals could have spared you from all this puking."

Hector huffed. "Stop lecturing, snotnose, and get me some water."

Arnie stuck his tongue at him, but obeyed, getting some cold water from the kitchen, checking if the sink was clean on the way.

Hector gulped down the water greedily, even as Arnie patted his hand. "Slow down, you'll make yourself sick again."

To be fair, Hector tried to slow the tempo before it picked up again. Arnie sat down next to him with a grimace. No helping that.

"You want to watch something and take it easy?" Arnie asked, putting the back of his hand to Hector's forehead. He was a little warm. "I think you should rest. Looks like a flu to me."

Hector, feeling evidently better, swatted his hand away. "And whose fault is that? You're the only flu spreader around. Damn human germs."

Arnie gave him another eye roll. "Your immunity needs some work then, if you catch things that I don't even have symptoms for."

Arnie put on a rerun of Big Bang Theory, which was usually so foreign and boring to Hector that it put him to sleep. And he was right, his older brother was snoring away, head lolling to the armrest, in a few minutes.

After two episodes, Hector stirred though, grimacing with a moan.

"You want a blanket?" Arnie asked quietly as Hector curled into himself, although he could see some more sweat beading on his neck.

"Nah. Think I'm just going to sleep this off in the bed," Hector said, not bothering to muffle a burp as he got up clumsily. His hand shot up to cradle the top of his belly like it was about to fall open.

"You sure you didn't eat something spicy at lunch?" Arnie said, watching him stumble out with another burp. "You get disgusting like that every time."

Hector gave him an angry glare. "I do not. I can handle spicy food."

Arnie snorted. "Yeah, yeah. Tell that to someone who doesn't have to live with you and hear all the consequences."

Hector grunted something crude on his way, which caused Arnie to chuckle.

It wouldn't be unusual in the slightest if he did eat something spicy and then played it off as a flu just to not feel embarrassed.

It would be fine. Hector was a grumpy patient, even if it was the flu, but as long as he stopped eating and took a day off, he would be fine.

Wolves were so senstive to pain. Just a bit of discomfort, and they were all dramatic and moaning. Hector more than most. Physical injuries he got rid of with his shadow, so any sickness, cold, or flu that wouldn't heal had him up in arms and whiny. Arnie had gotten used to not taking it too seriously.

Arnie watched a few more episodes, checking his phone and dozed off on the couch himself.

He went to check on Hector, but he looked peacefully asleep in the bed.

Arnie prepared him a glass of water and a bucket, just in case. Leaving the door open and satisfied with his precautions, he went to his own room, catching the sleeping wave before it was worse off.

...

Arnie woke up to the harsh sounds of throaty retches. Scrambling up a little slow from sleep, he braced himself on the doorframe in Hector's room, switching the small bedside table lamp on.

Hector didn't even get up, hunched over the bed and heaving over the bucket.

What did, however, get up was his shadow. It was sprawling across the wall behind the bed and wiggling uneasily across the floor.

Arnie stepped around it gingerly. Hector's shadow wouldn't hurt him, he knew, but it was a scary big thing to crawl around his feet.

Despite Hector's best efforts, the bucket was basically empty, only spits of yellow bile inside.

Arnie sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed sleepily. Always so dramatic with Hector.

"Hex, you got nothing inside you, you are empty," he said, patting his back.

"Doesn't-doesn't feel like it-" Hector coughed between heaves.

He moaned, clutching the side of his belly as he lay back down, breathing harshly. "That freaking hurt."

"Flu it is," Arnie said with a yawn. "You are heaving even when running on empty."

"Then why the hell does it hurt?" Hector complained, sniffling. Arnie admonished himself for not bringing some more paper towels, too.

"It's normal to get cramps during the flu-"

"No, not crampy" Hector protested through gritted teeth. "It fucking hurts. And the pain travels."

Arnie frowned. "Travels? What?"

"The spot," Hector said, clutching at the right side of his stomach. It was still bloated, even though he had nothing to vomit. Arnie's eyebrows scrunched even more. This was starting to get weird.

"It was in the middle and now it's freaking here and it feels like someone stabbed me," Hector said angrily, just a breath away from whining. His shadow made an aggressive, wavy motion above their heads.

Arnie rubbed at his eyes, much more alert now. "So to sum it up - you felt sick during lunch, thought it was hunger, threw up at home and you were in pain since then?"

"I - I felt kind of off yesterday too, but like...just sluggish? Thought I was tired." Hector rolled onto his back, hands sliding lower on his ride side.

Arnie leaned in closer. "Show me." He gently pried Hector's hands away, lifting up his shirt. His stomach was still so blown up, but he could see nothing on the spot. It seemed too specific for a place though, lower right abdomen...he pushed his hands around, trying to find some kind of physical proof, a bump or swell. Hector didn't protest his poking, eyes closed and pinched.

Arnie was the one with any basic knowledge of human anatomy and complications, since Hector always insisted that were human weaknesses that had nothing to do with him.

Arnie retracted his hands with a sigh, considering writing it off as a cramp lasting too long, when Hector whimpered. Like a real little whimper. He locked his limbs together, arms around his stomach again, tears leaking out. His shadow all but flooded the damn room, swinging angrily from one side to the other at Hector's pain.

"What, what did I do?" Arnie asked in panic, falling to his knees on the floor and taking Hector's forearm in both hands. "Hex? Hex, what-"

Hector twitched under his hands, twisting his face into the sheets as a trickle of bile came out of the corner of his mouth.

"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry!" Arnie said, pressing his forehead to Hector's as his older brother rode the pain out.

Hector said nothing, another little whimper coming up.

Arnie got up as quickly as he could to grab his phone. He dialed up the ambulance and called as he returned, not wanting to leave Hector alone.

"Noooo, no hospital," Hector whined pitifully.

"Yes, we have to," Arnie said in a strangled noise, putting his free hand on Hector's shoulder. "Please. Trust me. This is something serious."

With great effort, Hector pulled a hand away from his stomach and clutched Arnie's forearm, breathing raggedly as they both waited for the medics.

[writing-whump]

I'm in the fluffiest mood lately, so how about a no stakes sickfic. Movie night and the trip (Matt, Sel/Zaya) are home and decide to put on something like spiderverse or smth else, point being, either Isaiah or Matt gets super motion sick from it

Something fluffy it is. Thank you for the ask, Soup!!💙

Cinema sickness

The middle position was the best.

Matthew didn't notice when exactly they started to fight for it like that, but it was increasingly a place one of them got as special treat.

Like of course, when Isaiah was having his not so heart episodes that Seline still didn't know the cause of or when he was emotional. Then it wad Seline herself with a fever. She also usurped the spot most openly when she was well.

Matthew was a little too emebrassed to be that forward. Not when he was feeling fine.

They bought a camera projector they have been saving for a few months. Seline dreamed about the home cinema early on and Isaiah was such a movie buff, it was only to be expected.

Matthew found the cinema experience tiresome because of all the people, so their own private living room cinema because of the projector? Sounded fun. Though the cinema made for good people training.

"You guys didn't watch the second Spiderverse movie yet, right?" Seline said, taking control of the chromcast with her phone to put it on.

"I didn't see the first one either," Matthew grumbled as she climbed up between him and Isaiah who was scrolling through IMDb. He had a thing for ratings, while Seline loved comments and spoilers.

Matthew considered himself the only sane and commonly invested movie person. He liked to get surprised.

"The animation is out of this world. The first movie got an Oscar for it too, but they went overboard and beyond with the second. Each universe has a different animation style! It's the perfect movie for a cinema." Seline waved her phone in front of Matthew enthusiastically.

"Isn't animation for children?"

Isaiah and Seline both gave him scandalised looks. "In what hole did you live until now for such an outdated opinion?" Isaiah asked teasingly.

Matthew rolled his eyes. Didn't look like he would have a say today.

"I don't think you need the first one to understand," Seline said thoughtfully as she put the movie on. "They explain it pretty well, plus I can always explain things to you if you need it."

"You are still more of a fan of the first one, aren't you?" Isaiah said, bumping against her. They were sitting shoulder to shoulder, all three of them.

"I think the character development is simply better there? Also the relationships. The focus on bad mentor and a confused kid and different father figured...this one goes more into the romance storyline-"

"The focus just shifts from him to her's all-"

Matthew shook his head. "Alright, quit it. I want to see for myself."

The movie looked like a very expensive video game. The animation really was something else. Matthew understood quickly they would not be able to film stuff like this for real.

So many colours and so much quick movement. Their living room wall was basically flickering, going from one side of the colour spectrum to the next at rapid speed that had his head spinning.

How could there be so much happening on the screen? It was downright impossible to catch it all.

His eyes felt tired from it. It was all so fast and coupled with the music it was downright aggressive.

Matthew didn't notice when, but the left side of his head felt like someone held it in a vice grip. The more he watched and tried to make sense of what was happening, the more his left temple pounded in unison with his heart.

He found himself shaking his head to clear his vision, rubbing at the side of his face. He even tried closing one eye and then the other. But the images just kept coming and there was some kind of dramatic scene with spidermen all over the screen and damn, his head really hurt.

Seline was leaning her head against Isaiah's shoulder, her legs stretched out and touching them both. Her lap seemed very inviting.

Matt leaned to the side experimentally. He wanted to go slow and see how that would be taken, but the possibility of getting some cover from the screen was getting more irresistible by the second.

He slumped down into Seline's lap, twisting so his face was against her stomach. The lights were all over the living room, reaching even to the windows and the kitchen. No hiding from them.

Matthew closed his eyes, face buried in Seline's belly. He secured her from squirming with his arm over her torso, stretched out all the way to Isaiah's tight. If the other wolf wanted to protest or made any move of displeasure, Matt would quickly notice from that position.

His head hurt. Why just the left side of his face? It was tingling.

Everything was moving too much. The dizzying spinning sensation didn't quite go away, although he had his eyes squeezed shut and wasn't looking.

Not to mention he was starting to feel vaguely queasy, his dinner sloshing in his stomach angrily.

"Mattie, you aren't watching," Seline admonished softly. Her hand went into his hair though, petting it softly. He melted under her touch, grateful for a pleasant feeling to focus on.

Suddenly there was the incredible sound of the movie stopping.

"Matt? You tired?" Isaiah asked, shifting somewhere behind his head.

"Mhhhhhhhhmmmm." Was he that obvious? Suspicious? He wanted to stay huddled there in the softness, thanks.

Isaiah's hand landed on his arm. The older wolf reserved his touches for when Matthew felt sick. But they were so physically close these days, because of Seline of course, no other reason, Matthew kind of craved it, even when he didn't need it.

Or maybe it would count now. But he didn't want to ruin the celebratory mood by being a baby. It was a stupid children's movie, for God's sake.

"We can just call it a night, I think. Continuation tomorrow," Isaiah suggested, ever the peace keeper trying to accommodate everyone.

It sounded nice to not continue the movie in any case. But going to bed created a new set of problems.

Matthew would have to move.

Seline wiggled under his head. "You are heavy," she said playfully. She seemed more open to the gesture than Matthew expected. For no reason at all.

Matthew hummed non-committalally not sure how to explain or escape his predicament without losing his dinner. His stomach was churning angrily and his head was still pounding, sound or not.

Isaiah chucked. "You can sleep here for all I care, but at least let the lady get her PJs."

Matthew huffed at that, but opening his mouth wasn't a good idea. A little burp escaped, muffled against Seline's ribcage.

Seline's fingers in his hair stilled. "Mattie? You feeling alright?"

Did she notice that he got burpy when he was about to spew? He could just be full. Damn it all, the risks of living with people so closely.

Another burp, this time a little louder and wetter. Matthew pressed his face closer into Seline's shirt. It smelled of rain and ozone and grapefruit.

He felt both of their gazes on him without looking. They were probably mouthing something to each other at this point. He could picture it vividly.

The pain in his left temple spiked and he moaned quietly.

Seline's cold hand cupped his nape, stroking his neck up to his cheek where she could reach.

"...If I move, I'll hurl," he admitted finally, figuring he should inform her of the danger she was currently in.

The sigh came from Isaiah though, as the raven haired man moved gently away from the sofa into the direction of the kitchen.

"What's wrong? Is your belly upset?"

Jesus, that sounded childish when she said it like that. Not to mention that weird new Mattie nickname.

"Headhurtss," he manged to get through his gritted teeth, still entirely muffled against her stomach. It was quiet, churning only gently, like a purring cat.

"Has it been hurting for long?" She sounded amazingly calm considering he was lying across her lap. "You seemed fine to me," she said with puzzlement. He could imagine the way her forehead creased, a little wrinkle between her eyebrows as she thought back about the evening.

He opened his mouth the respond, but another burp rushed out instead. Pocket of air against her stomach. Saliva was flooding his mouth.

Matthew loosed his hold on her reluctantly, turning so he would be lying on her knees. He covered his eyes with his hands. "Ow."

Seline placed her hands on both sides of his face. "Where?" Her voice was impossibly soft.

He pushed her cool hand - how was it so cool? - against the left side of his forehead.

He felt more than saw two of her fingertips on his temple, making tiny circular movements against it. She bowled over him, her lips hovering over his ear. "How is this? Should I stop?"

"No, that's nice," he said, relaxing a little. The gentle pressure felt good against the pain, though his stomach was still roiling.

Isaiah came back then, the sofa dipping under his weight as he knelt on Matthew's other side. "I got a bowl if you need it."

"Not the nice popcorn bowl, come on," Seline complained, lifting her head.

"It's big and deep," Isaiah protested, sounding amused.

Matthew groaned at the banter. The headache was giving away a bit at the message, but the nausea rose steadily no matter what he did. He felt air in his throat and spit flooding his mouth. He didn't want to move away from Seline's fingers or the attention, but his stomach cramped angrily then.

It had him shooting up into general direction of up. Except he felt dizzy right away, swaying and moaning.

Isaiah grabbed his shoulder to steady him.

Matthew held his eyes shut against the spinning of the room, trusting him to have the bowl at the right place, cause he couldn't aim. His head exploded on his left side with the sensation and puke rocketed into his mouth.

He was right to trust him. The vomit made a splashing sound against the bowl without him even looking, Isaiah holding it under hid chin.

Seline's hands came to cup his forehead from behind. "You are okay, you are okay. Just get it up."

Matthew gave in to his body completely then, a little more voluntarily at the support. His senses were all over the place. He couldn't tell which was was up and down and his left side of the face as pounding and burning from warmth.

More waves of vomit came, easier to bring up now that he wasn't fighting it. When he thought he would catch a break, a loud burp brought in one more splash and then two more. His back arched, only Isaiah's hold on his shoulder keeping him upright. The sofa was moving like a water bed.

When he was finished, he spat the rest of the foul taste and slumped blindly back into Seline's lap. He wanted her nice scent and her cool hands and the little message against his temple that had a drilling machine against it.

"Better now?" she asked, her hands on his face just like he wanted, stroking his cheek and forehead.

"Mhhhhhhhhhmmmm." There was a relief from the nausea, but he was still afraid to open his eyes.

He could vaguely sense Isaiah's movements as he got rid of the bowl, returned to position it next to Matthew. Then circled around, fitting himself into the opening between Matthew's side and the sofa.

Matthew wasn't sure when vomiting because a group activity, or if he shouldn't apologise or feel embarrassed for making a fool of himself.

He sighed contendly as Seline went back to massaging his temple. Isaiah was rubbing his arm gently, as if to remind him he was there.

And who was Matthew to refuse the middle spot?

[writing-whump]

Would loveeee to see hector super sick and feverish with a stomach bug where all he wants is to be comforted by Isaiah/Arnie/both- just love his softer side- pretty sure he’s a softie deep down 🤭

Hey nonny! Thank you for the request!! Found a good way to insert it. This will have a part 2 for another request hehe.

Something serious

Hector burst through the door, heading straight for the kitchen without a word of greeting.

Arnie was not taking it personally, but he was curious about what kind of hunger spree made Hector so desperate.

He got up from the couch to check. "Did you skip lunch or-?

Except Hector wasn't riding their fridge. He was braced over the kitchen sink and retching loudly.

"Oi. Okay," Arnie said with a wince as a huge gush of puke hit the bottom of the granite. "What happened to you?"

"Ate-uuurp-too fast." Hector burped up another mouthful before spitting and letting the faucet run over the mess.

"Really? Wasn't something off about the food?" Hector's speed and capacity were way too impressive for this to happen easily.

Hector swiped his wrist over his mouth, sweaty all over.

Arnie tore off a handful of kitchen towels and handed it to him.

Hector took it gratefully, mopping his face and mouth. "I was so hungry at lunch that my stomach hurt. Must have eaten too quick, cause I got queasy on the way." Hector put a hand on his belly as it whined loudly. For puking just a minute ago, his stomach looked distended, as if he was still full.

"Sure it was hunger? Maybe you were getting down with something and ate lunch on top," Arnie sighed, grabbing Hector by the elbow to steer him towards the living room. "How many times do I have to say that you shouldn't eat, when your stomach is hurting?"

Hector was feeling crappy enough to follow Arnie's guidance, flopping down on the couch and curling his hands protectively around his middle. "Ugh. Thought it would help."

Arnie rolled his eyes. ""It's always the same with you—no restraint. Listening to your body's signals could have spared you from all this puking."

Hector huffed. "Stop lecturing, snotnose, and get me some water."

Arnie stuck his tongue at him, but obeyed, getting some cold water from the kitchen, checking if the sink was clean on the way.

Hector gulped down the water greedily, even as Arnie patted his hand. "Slow down, you'll make yourself sick again."

To be fair, Hector tried to slow the tempo before it picked up again. Arnie sat down next to him with a grimace. No helping that.

"You want to watch something and take it easy?" Arnie asked, putting the back of his hand to Hector's forehead. He was a little warm. "I think you should rest. Looks like a flu to me."

Hector, feeling evidently better, swatted his hand away. "And whose fault is that? You're the only flu spreader around. Damn human germs."

Arnie gave him another eye roll. "Your immunity needs some work then, if you catch things that I don't even have symptoms for."

Arnie put on a rerun of Big Bang Theory, which was usually so foreign and boring to Hector that it put him to sleep. And he was right, his older brother was snoring away, head lolling to the armrest, in a few minutes.

After two episodes, Hector stirred though, grimacing with a moan.

"You want a blanket?" Arnie asked quietly as Hector curled into himself, although he could see some more sweat beading on his neck.

"Nah. Think I'm just going to sleep this off in the bed," Hector said, not bothering to muffle a burp as he got up clumsily. His hand shot up to cradle the top of his belly like it was about to fall open.

"You sure you didn't eat something spicy at lunch?" Arnie said, watching him stumble out with another burp. "You get disgusting like that every time."

Hector gave him an angry glare. "I do not. I can handle spicy food."

Arnie snorted. "Yeah, yeah. Tell that to someone who doesn't have to live with you and hear all the consequences."

Hector grunted something crude on his way, which caused Arnie to chuckle.

It wouldn't be unusual in the slightest if he did eat something spicy and then played it off as a flu just to not feel embarrassed.

It would be fine. Hector was a grumpy patient, even if it was the flu, but as long as he stopped eating and took a day off, he would be fine.

Wolves were so senstive to pain. Just a bit of discomfort, and they were all dramatic and moaning. Hector more than most. Physical injuries he got rid of with his shadow, so any sickness, cold, or flu that wouldn't heal had him up in arms and whiny. Arnie had gotten used to not taking it too seriously.

Arnie watched a few more episodes, checking his phone and dozed off on the couch himself.

He went to check on Hector, but he looked peacefully asleep in the bed.

Arnie prepared him a glass of water and a bucket, just in case. Leaving the door open and satisfied with his precautions, he went to his own room, catching the sleeping wave before it was worse off.

...

Arnie woke up to the harsh sounds of throaty retches. Scrambling up a little slow from sleep, he braced himself on the doorframe in Hector's room, switching the small bedside table lamp on.

Hector didn't even get up, hunched over the bed and heaving over the bucket.

What did, however, get up was his shadow. It was sprawling across the wall behind the bed and wiggling uneasily across the floor.

Arnie stepped around it gingerly. Hector's shadow wouldn't hurt him, he knew, but it was a scary big thing to crawl around his feet.

Despite Hector's best efforts, the bucket was basically empty, only spits of yellow bile inside.

Arnie sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed sleepily. Always so dramatic with Hector.

"Hex, you got nothing inside you, you are empty," he said, patting his back.

"Doesn't-doesn't feel like it-" Hector coughed between heaves.

He moaned, clutching the side of his belly as he lay back down, breathing harshly. "That freaking hurt."

"Flu it is," Arnie said with a yawn. "You are heaving even when running on empty."

"Then why the hell does it hurt?" Hector complained, sniffling. Arnie admonished himself for not bringing some more paper towels, too.

"It's normal to get cramps during the flu-"

"No, not crampy" Hector protested through gritted teeth. "It fucking hurts. And the pain travels."

Arnie frowned. "Travels? What?"

"The spot," Hector said, clutching at the right side of his stomach. It was still bloated, even though he had nothing to vomit. Arnie's eyebrows scrunched even more. This was starting to get weird.

"It was in the middle and now it's freaking here and it feels like someone stabbed me," Hector said angrily, just a breath away from whining. His shadow made an aggressive, wavy motion above their heads.

Arnie rubbed at his eyes, much more alert now. "So to sum it up - you felt sick during lunch, thought it was hunger, threw up at home and you were in pain since then?"

"I - I felt kind of off yesterday too, but like...just sluggish? Thought I was tired." Hector rolled onto his back, hands sliding lower on his ride side.

Arnie leaned in closer. "Show me." He gently pried Hector's hands away, lifting up his shirt. His stomach was still so blown up, but he could see nothing on the spot. It seemed too specific for a place though, lower right abdomen...he pushed his hands around, trying to find some kind of physical proof, a bump or swell. Hector didn't protest his poking, eyes closed and pinched.

Arnie was the one with any basic knowledge of human anatomy and complications, since Hector always insisted that were human weaknesses that had nothing to do with him.

Arnie retracted his hands with a sigh, considering writing it off as a cramp lasting too long, when Hector whimpered. Like a real little whimper. He locked his limbs together, arms around his stomach again, tears leaking out. His shadow all but flooded the damn room, swinging angrily from one side to the other at Hector's pain.

"What, what did I do?" Arnie asked in panic, falling to his knees on the floor and taking Hector's forearm in both hands. "Hex? Hex, what-"

Hector twitched under his hands, twisting his face into the sheets as a trickle of bile came out of the corner of his mouth.

"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry!" Arnie said, pressing his forehead to Hector's as his older brother rode the pain out.

Hector said nothing, another little whimper coming up.

Arnie got up as quickly as he could to grab his phone. He dialed up the ambulance and called as he returned, not wanting to leave Hector alone.

"Noooo, no hospital," Hector whined pitifully.

"Yes, we have to," Arnie said in a strangled noise, putting his free hand on Hector's shoulder. "Please. Trust me. This is something serious."

With great effort, Hector pulled a hand away from his stomach and clutched Arnie's forearm, breathing raggedly as they both waited for the medics.

[writing-whump]

Would loveeee to see hector super sick and feverish with a stomach bug where all he wants is to be comforted by Isaiah/Arnie/both- just love his softer side- pretty sure he’s a softie deep down 🤭

Hey nonny! Thank you for the request!! Found a good way to insert it. This will have a part 2 for another request hehe.

Something serious

Hector burst through the door, heading straight for the kitchen without a word of greeting.

Arnie was not taking it personally, but he was curious about what kind of hunger spree made Hector so desperate.

He got up from the couch to check. "Did you skip lunch or-?

Except Hector wasn't riding their fridge. He was braced over the kitchen sink and retching loudly.

"Oi. Okay," Arnie said with a wince as a huge gush of puke hit the bottom of the granite. "What happened to you?"

"Ate-uuurp-too fast." Hector burped up another mouthful before spitting and letting the faucet run over the mess.

"Really? Wasn't something off about the food?" Hector's speed and capacity were way too impressive for this to happen easily.

Hector swiped his wrist over his mouth, sweaty all over.

Arnie tore off a handful of kitchen towels and handed it to him.

Hector took it gratefully, mopping his face and mouth. "I was so hungry at lunch that my stomach hurt. Must have eaten too quick, cause I got queasy on the way." Hector put a hand on his belly as it whined loudly. For puking just a minute ago, his stomach looked distended, as if he was still full.

"Sure it was hunger? Maybe you were getting down with something and ate lunch on top," Arnie sighed, grabbing Hector by the elbow to steer him towards the living room. "How many times do I have to say that you shouldn't eat, when your stomach is hurting?"

Hector was feeling crappy enough to follow Arnie's guidance, flopping down on the couch and curling his hands protectively around his middle. "Ugh. Thought it would help."

Arnie rolled his eyes. ""It's always the same with you—no restraint. Listening to your body's signals could have spared you from all this puking."

Hector huffed. "Stop lecturing, snotnose, and get me some water."

Arnie stuck his tongue at him, but obeyed, getting some cold water from the kitchen, checking if the sink was clean on the way.

Hector gulped down the water greedily, even as Arnie patted his hand. "Slow down, you'll make yourself sick again."

To be fair, Hector tried to slow the tempo before it picked up again. Arnie sat down next to him with a grimace. No helping that.

"You want to watch something and take it easy?" Arnie asked, putting the back of his hand to Hector's forehead. He was a little warm. "I think you should rest. Looks like a flu to me."

Hector, feeling evidently better, swatted his hand away. "And whose fault is that? You're the only flu spreader around. Damn human germs."

Arnie gave him another eye roll. "Your immunity needs some work then, if you catch things that I don't even have symptoms for."

Arnie put on a rerun of Big Bang Theory, which was usually so foreign and boring to Hector that it put him to sleep. And he was right, his older brother was snoring away, head lolling to the armrest, in a few minutes.

After two episodes, Hector stirred though, grimacing with a moan.

"You want a blanket?" Arnie asked quietly as Hector curled into himself, although he could see some more sweat beading on his neck.

"Nah. Think I'm just going to sleep this off in the bed," Hector said, not bothering to muffle a burp as he got up clumsily. His hand shot up to cradle the top of his belly like it was about to fall open.

"You sure you didn't eat something spicy at lunch?" Arnie said, watching him stumble out with another burp. "You get disgusting like that every time."

Hector gave him an angry glare. "I do not. I can handle spicy food."

Arnie snorted. "Yeah, yeah. Tell that to someone who doesn't have to live with you and hear all the consequences."

Hector grunted something crude on his way, which caused Arnie to chuckle.

It wouldn't be unusual in the slightest if he did eat something spicy and then played it off as a flu just to not feel embarrassed.

It would be fine. Hector was a grumpy patient, even if it was the flu, but as long as he stopped eating and took a day off, he would be fine.

Wolves were so senstive to pain. Just a bit of discomfort, and they were all dramatic and moaning. Hector more than most. Physical injuries he got rid of with his shadow, so any sickness, cold, or flu that wouldn't heal had him up in arms and whiny. Arnie had gotten used to not taking it too seriously.

Arnie watched a few more episodes, checking his phone and dozed off on the couch himself.

He went to check on Hector, but he looked peacefully asleep in the bed.

Arnie prepared him a glass of water and a bucket, just in case. Leaving the door open and satisfied with his precautions, he went to his own room, catching the sleeping wave before it was worse off.

...

Arnie woke up to the harsh sounds of throaty retches. Scrambling up a little slow from sleep, he braced himself on the doorframe in Hector's room, switching the small bedside table lamp on.

Hector didn't even get up, hunched over the bed and heaving over the bucket.

What did, however, get up was his shadow. It was sprawling across the wall behind the bed and wiggling uneasily across the floor.

Arnie stepped around it gingerly. Hector's shadow wouldn't hurt him, he knew, but it was a scary big thing to crawl around his feet.

Despite Hector's best efforts, the bucket was basically empty, only spits of yellow bile inside.

Arnie sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed sleepily. Always so dramatic with Hector.

"Hex, you got nothing inside you, you are empty," he said, patting his back.

"Doesn't-doesn't feel like it-" Hector coughed between heaves.

He moaned, clutching the side of his belly as he lay back down, breathing harshly. "That freaking hurt."

"Flu it is," Arnie said with a yawn. "You are heaving even when running on empty."

"Then why the hell does it hurt?" Hector complained, sniffling. Arnie admonished himself for not bringing some more paper towels, too.

"It's normal to get cramps during the flu-"

"No, not crampy" Hector protested through gritted teeth. "It fucking hurts. And the pain travels."

Arnie frowned. "Travels? What?"

"The spot," Hector said, clutching at the right side of his stomach. It was still bloated, even though he had nothing to vomit. Arnie's eyebrows scrunched even more. This was starting to get weird.

"It was in the middle and now it's freaking here and it feels like someone stabbed me," Hector said angrily, just a breath away from whining. His shadow made an aggressive, wavy motion above their heads.

Arnie rubbed at his eyes, much more alert now. "So to sum it up - you felt sick during lunch, thought it was hunger, threw up at home and you were in pain since then?"

"I - I felt kind of off yesterday too, but like...just sluggish? Thought I was tired." Hector rolled onto his back, hands sliding lower on his right side.

Arnie leaned in closer. "Show me." He gently pried Hector's hands away, lifting up his shirt. His stomach was still so blown up, but he could see nothing on the spot. It seemed too specific for a place though, lower right abdomen...he pushed his hands around, trying to find some kind of physical proof, a bump or swell. Hector didn't protest his poking, eyes closed and pinched.

Arnie was the one with any basic knowledge of human anatomy and complications, since Hector always insisted that were human weaknesses that had nothing to do with him.

Arnie retracted his hands with a sigh, considering writing it off as a cramp lasting too long, when Hector whimpered. Like a real little whimper. He locked his limbs together, arms around his stomach again, tears leaking out. His shadow all but flooded the damn room, swinging angrily from one side to the other at Hector's pain.

"What, what did I do?" Arnie asked in panic, falling to his knees on the floor and taking Hector's forearm in both hands. "Hex? Hex, what-"

Hector twitched under his hands, twisting his face into the sheets as a trickle of bile came out of the corner of his mouth.

"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry!" Arnie said, pressing his forehead to Hector's as his older brother rode the pain out.

Hector said nothing, another little whimper coming up.

Arnie got up as quickly as he could to grab his phone. He dialed up the ambulance and called as he returned, not wanting to leave Hector alone.

"Noooo, no hospital," Hector whined pitifully.

"Yes, we have to," Arnie said in a strangled noise, putting his free hand on Hector's shoulder. "Please. Trust me. This is something serious."

With great effort, Hector pulled a hand away from his stomach and clutched Arnie's forearm, breathing raggedly as they both waited for the medics.

[writing-whump]

I would love to see Leo and Jonah sick at the same time ^^

maybe one of them has food posioning and the other has been hiding some sort of stomach bug for a while that happens to show it’s face then?

if not that’s fine but would really like to see this!

-🪼

(First time submitting an ask :D)

This was sent before you switched to the 🧋anon tag.

Also requested by @vdoggg!

Food Poisoning - Part 3.

A continuation of Leo's birthday fic. Read part 1 here. Part 2 here.

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

Leo was lying on the bed, curled up and trying to make sense if he was about to puke again, when he heard the front door opening. JD lifted up her head from where she had been happily kneading his thigh and he breathed out.

“It’s just Jon,” Leo grumbled, not moving a muscle. Jonah hadn’t texted him, but Leo had enough sense to figure out who had eaten the missing cupcakes and why he was back earlier than usual. 

As if to confirm his point, he heard hurried steps and then the noise of liquid hitting liquid and Jonah’s signature loud burp down the hall, as he probably burst into the guest bathroom. Leo sighed, forcing himself to sit up and waiting a second as the room spun around him. 

He had originally thought it was a simple overeating bellyache, even when he puked again as they arrived home, chalking that up to the vestiges of nausea and carsickness. Halfway through the night though, while Jonah was peacefully asleep, Leo was wrecked by the cramps in his lower belly and had given up on that notion as the runs hit him.

Leo felt mildly guilty he hadn’t been awake enough that morning to warn Jonah this was definitely food poisoning, then maybe his fiancee wouldn’t have eaten the cupcakes.

Grabbing on the walls to keep himself upright, Leo made his slow track down the hall and sighed as he found exactly what he had predicted. Jonah curled up in front of the toilet, hugging the bowl with arms, his shoulders hitching with a retch.

“Shit,” Leo sighed, slumping against the door and taking a deep breath to steady himself, “I’m sorry, Jon.”

A burp answered him, followed by more liquid splashing and then a pitiful whimper. Leo slowly entered the bathroom, which was much too small for the two men, and sat down on the cold ground, planting a hand on his fiance’s back. 

He didn’t have the energy to rub, but Jonah didn’t seem to mind. After a couple minutes the other man finished coughing and raised a shaky hand to flush the toilet, so Leo grabbed a bunch of toilet paper and passed it to him. He heard Jon blow his nose, then flush again and finally he turned to look at Leo. 

Leo cringed, his boyfriend looked damn near gray and his lips were a terrible pale shade. He had sweat beading all over his face, gluing his curls down to his temples, “Jon, are you-”

“Threw up- threw up in front of a patient,” Jonah informed him, in a little strangled voice. He closed his eyes, as if wincing at the memory, “I really don’t feel good.”

“I know,” Leo said truthfully, scooting closer. He couldn’t emphasize enough how much he understood Jon’s plight, given that just walking the short distance between their bedroom and the guest bathroom had caused his nausea to increase all over again, “I’m really sorry, Jon.”

“Not your fault,” Jonah groaned, turning to the toilet once more and spitting in it, planting a hand on his chest and massaging a burp up, “fuck…”

Leo tipped his head back against the cold tiles of the bathroom, trying to ignore the angry gurgling of his belly and how he felt like acid was crawling up his throat. He took a measured breath, gulping down, then startled as he felt a hand touching him.

Jonah let out a small snort at his jerkiness and Leo frowned, taking a second to realize Jonah was checking his vitals. He was being gentle, but the slight pressure on his Adam's apple was not helping Leo gulp down the nausea, so he pulled back.

“What are you doing…?”

“You’re really, really pale,” Jon frowned at him, “when did you last drink water?”

“You’re the one throwing up,” Leo pointed out with a pout, bringing his knees up to his chest, “are you done?”

Jonah shrugged, not reassuring him in the least, “I’m fine,” he said, using the toilet to pull himself up and then promptly leaning over the sink with a deafening retch. Leo scoffed, dizzily rubbing Jon’s thigh since he didn’t feel like he could get up now that he had sat down.

‘You’re fine, uh?”

A wet burp, followed by Jonah letting out a groan and wrapping an arm around his stomach… Then whimpering, “oh no,” and bent on the middle, clutching his belly. Leo raised his eyebrows.

“Jon…?”

“You need- I need you to get out,” Jonah groaned through clenched teeth, “now.”

“What… Why?” Leo tried to pull himself up, only to find that he really couldn’t and Jonah whimpered again.

“Fuck, Leo, I’m gonna shit my pants, get out-”

“I’m trying!” The blonde exclaimed, darting out a hand and grabbing the bathroom sink, in order to pull himself up, since his fiancee was of no help at all. On the contrary, Jonah seemed to have tuned him out, too preoccupied with the sour state of his intestines. 

“Leo…”

“I’m-I’m go-” Leo didn’t finish his sentence, because being upright so quickly caused his head to swim, so instead of leaving the bathroom, he clutched the granite of the sink for dear life, breathing through his mouth, ears ringing and black spots dancing in front of his eyes. The queasiness that had been on the back burner until then, jumped up tenfold and Leo couldn’t do anything as he leaned forward and brought up a gush of pale yellow vomit in the basin.

Vaguely he heard Jonah groan and then the noise of his boyfriend falling sit on the toilet, sickness overriding any modesty.

Leo coughed, gasping for air and still white knuckling the sink. It felt like his head was floating. He gagged once more as he heard the noise of Jonah’s intestines emptying out and his fiancee let out a humiliated whine.

“I’m sorry, this is so gross, I-” Jonah all but whimpered, a sound so alien in his voice that it made Leo snap slightly back in reality. 

He shook his head, opening the tap and washing away the vomit, before washing his mouth and forcing up a small burp. Leo hung over the sink, unsure if his belly was done with him. 

“Jon?” he called after a minute, splashing some water on his face to try to get rid of the woozy sensation that he was about to pass out. 

A cough answered him and Leo turned to look at his boyfriend, then groaned in sympathy. Jonah had grabbed the bin and planted it on his lap, as his own stomach joined his body’s attempt at purging. 

“Aww angel,” Leo stumbled slightly forward, planting a hand on Jonah’s shoulder and squeezing his nape, “get it up, worst is almost over…”

Jonah’s whole body lurched with a big belch, that brought up another large wave of vomit inside their bathroom bin. Leo brought up a fist to his mouth and muffled a gag, turning his face away. He wasn’t one to get sympathy sick, but this was a gruesome sight when his stomach was already so upset.

He looked up at the ceiling, waiting until Jonah stopped heaving, then dared to glance down as the other man rasped out, “I’m done… I think I’m done…”

“Let me take this,” Leo took a forceful breath and retrieved the bin from Jonah’s hand, planting it on top of the sink and tying the trashbag, “do you need help…?”

“I’d rather die,” Jonah scoffed, wrapping both arms around his stomach and rocking softly, “bloody hell, Leo, it was just… Just two cupcakes, how the hell-”

“I don’t know,” Leo rubbed his face, frustrated, then grabbed the trashbag and fortified himself for the journey of getting out of the bathroom so Jon could get up and shower, “I’m going… I’m gonna give you some privacy. But I’m gonna leave the door open, okay?”

Not that he really could do anything in case Jonah slipped and fell in the shower, considering Leo was barely holding his own weight up. Jon was graceful enough not to mention it, though Leo wasn’t sure his boyfriend was even listening. Instead he was taking little rapid breaths, a sickly little burp sneaking up on him.

“Babe?”

“Bin-” Jonah’s voice was thick with nausea, “Leo- Gimme-”

Leo quickly pulled the tied trashbag out of the bin and passed the empty bucket back to Jonah, thankful that it wasn’t a hollowed out metal bucket like others they had in the house. Jon leaned over it immediately, barely retching before liquid sprayed from his mouth, then his back arched with a more violent heave. 

“Jesus,” Leo whispered, starting to panic. This was quite violent and he hated that he couldn’t help as much as he wanted to. His legs were shaking and his own tummy was squeezing and cramping, intestines building a riot inside of him. Leo ignored the horrible sensation of his body revolting against him, in order to plant a shaky hand on Jonah’s shoulder and keep him from falling off the toilet. 

After what felt like an eternity, Jonah planted the bin on the ground and his elbows on his knees, groaning, “fuck…” 

Leo squeezed his shoulder, “I’m- Uhm- Are you-you done…?” 

Jon’s head snapped up and he frowned at Leo’s sluggish sentences. Even exhausted and wrung dry, he hadn’t been losing liquids for as long as the other man had and was more alert. 

“Leo, sit down,” he bossed and Leo shook his head, sweat breaking on his forehead and gluing his shirt down. 

“Can’t- Don’t feel well…” He forced the words out, “are you okay…?”

“I’m fine,” Jonah stressed, “please, can you just sit down for a minute? I just need to shower-”

Leo nodded, then stumbled back and sat on the threshold between the bathroom and the hallway, whole body going down as if he was a broken doll. Jonah felt the start of panic prickling him, running his options through his mind. 

Despite wanting to stay under the hot water for the rest of the day, Jon forced himself to keep the shower to only a minute, wrapping a towel around his hip and ignoring the way his belly was grumbling and whining all over again. He couldn’t even understand how he wasn’t empty yet. 

Leo was in the exact same spot, he hadn't moved a muscle. Jonah crouched down, touching his fiance’s pale, slack face and hating the way he could feel Leo’s rapid heart beat. 

“You’ve been puking since yesterday, this isn’t good,” Jon sighed, patting Leo’s cheeks, “baby, open your eyes.”

“Gon’besick,” Leo groaned, instead of obeying and Jonah jerked back just in time to avoid getting his arm coated in vomit, as Leo’s head hung and bright yellow bile splashed on his shirt. 

Jonah groaned, sympathy sickness making his stomach squeeze and he didn’t have it in him to fight it, he turned his head and gagged. It took forever for his stomach to settle and he could feel Leo was still dry heaving, even without looking. 

“We need help,” Jonah said, forcing himself to look at the mess and deciding there was no way he could handle this alone, when his body was hellbent on getting ready of any fluid he had ever consumed. 

Leo let out a little whimper as an answer and Jonah made up his mind.

—------------

“Christ,” Luke’s voice was much too loud in their quiet apartment and Jon jerked from the small nap he was taking in the middle of the hallway. He had managed to strip Leo out of his ruined shirt and changed into boxers himself instead of only a towel, but that was it. Moving Leo had been out of the question. 

“Leo first,” Jonah opened his eyes, his head was pounding from all the heaving and coughing, “I think he needs a hospital…” 

Lucas didn’t argue, crouching down in front of them and touching Leo’s cheeks, patting them softly, “Leo. Leo, hey-” he shook him a little harder, until the blonde let out a groan and opened his eyes. His face immediately twisted into a frown, the cramps hitting him now that he was awake.

“Luke…?” Leo groaned, curling up as much as he could, but Lucas was having none of it. He forced the other man to open up and threw an arm around his neck. 

“C’mon,” Luke’s voice came out strained as he managed to pull Leo up on his feet, “couch with you. You need to drink something.”

“Gonna… Gonna go right through-” Leo groaned, his head lolling and he pressed his nose to Luke’s neck, “won’tssstay down- Where’s Jon?”

“He’s fine,” Lucas managed to plant Leo on the couch, then grabbed some cushions and planted them under Leo’s legs, “I brought stuff.”

“What did you bring…?” Jonah tried to get up from the hallway, only to find that he was much weaker than he thought. His face burned with embarrassment as he too had to be hugged by Luke and pulled up. 

“Everything the drugstore would sell me without a prescription,” Luke huffed, planting Jonah in the opposite couch to Leo’s and then heading to the door in order to retrieve his grocery bag. He put it down on the coffee table, then removed a gatorade bottle, and five different medicine bottles. 

“Here,” Luke handed Jonah two different pills and a bottle of gatorade, “try holding these down.”

“Where’s JD?” Leo whispered from the other couch. He had curled up as much as he could and Jonah winced at the sight of him, throwing Lucas a panicked glance. He didn’t like at all the shade of white Leo had reached.

“What?” Luke asked, walking closer. For Leo he opened the gatorade bottle and stuck a straw inside of it.

The blonde made a face as the straw was pressed to his lips, trying to move away, “she must be starving…”

“I’ll look for JD in a minute,” Lucas ushered him closer, “just one sip, Leo. If you can’t then we’re gonna go to the hospital.”

The vague threat worked, because Leo finally took a gulp. Jonah watched him anxiously, already so familiar with the way his boyfriend worked that he fully expected to see the drink come up within seconds. When that didn’t happen, he allowed himself to fully collapse against the couch’s cushions. 

“How long has this been going on?” Lucas’ voice was distant, followed by a meow and then his footsteps. JD meowing louder. Jonah turned his head, fighting valiantly the urge to go to sleep and scoffed as he saw Luke clutching JD in his hands. 

“Don’t squeeze her like that,” he glared at the other man, while from the opposite couch Leo let out a pained groan. 

“Luke-” It was a whimper, and then Lucas dropped JD and lurched just in time to catch the mouthful of gatorade in the crumpled groceries paperbag. Jonah squeezed his eyes to avoid looking at the mess, feeling even worse that he was so useless. 

His own stomach churned uneasily and Jonah rolled on his side, focusing on breathing in and out and not on how awful he felt that he couldn’t be of any comfort or help as Leo continued to dry heave. 

“Fuck,” Lucas said and Jonah dared to open his eyes. Leo had fallen against their friend, white as a corpse, and not even fighting it as Luke wiped his lips with his thumb, puke be damned. 

“Hospital,” Jonah bossed, even dizzy as he was, “take him.”

“Yeah,” Luke nodded, carefully pushing Leo against the couch’s back, “Bella is coming over, she just stopped to buy us food. We’ll wait for her.” 

“Nooo-” Jonah shook his head, then his stomach clenched violently and he gagged, but all that fell on the floor was a clear line of spit, “don’t-”

“I’m not leaving you alone,” Lucas said harshly, crossing the room and forcing Jonah to sit up correctly, then grabbing a bucket and pushing it on his lap, “and Leo’s not gonna die in the fifteen minutes it’ll take her to get here. Chill.”

“Can’t…” Jonah mumbled miserably, too tired to hide how raw he felt, when Leo was this sick. He felt like crying and probably would have, if he wasn’t so dehydrated, “can’t chill.”

Luke’s frown softened up, replaced by all concern and sympathy and he crouched down in front of Jonah, grabbing the gatorade bottle once more, ‘yeah, I know, man. But I’m looking out for both of you. You trust me?”

Jon hesitated, then nodded, refusing to meet Luke’s eyes and the other man pushed the cold bottle in his hand, “take another sip. Bell is nearly here, I’m going to pack Leo a bag.”

True to what Luke had said, not more than ten minutes later, Bella entered the apartment. She was carrying another set of groceries and in true pragmatic fashion didn’t spare them even a look, heading straight to the kitchen to empty their fridge of the possibly tainted food and repack it. 

“Okay,” Luke walked back to Leo, with a backpack around his shoulder, “let’s go, Leo.”

“Jonah…” Leo mumbled dizzily, burying his face in Luke’s chest, “Jon’s sick too-”

“I know, but he’s in better shape than you,” Luke grunted, pulling Leo up and stumbling a little, “Bell will stay here to keep him company.” 

“JD-”

“She’s fine,” Bella said softly, rushing ahead to open the door for them and picking up the cat when she tried to sneak past her legs. The woman held up the kitten so Leo could see it and he blinked blearily, clearly feeling too awful to string things together. 

“She’s hungry…”

“I’ll feed her,” Bella vowed and Luke huffed, tightening up his hold on Leo as the blonde started to slip down. 

“Everything is fine here, we’re gonna be back in no time,” Luke promised, dragging him away. Finally they were alone, Jonah and Bella, and Jon let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He curled up even more on the couch and almost smiled when JD jumped from Bell’s arms to come pester him.

“That’s some food poisoning,” Bell wrinkled her nose, walking closer, “how you holding up, Jon?”

“Not well,” Jonah leaned his head against the couch’s arm. He didn’t say it out loud, but he felt an immense relief at knowing Leo was on his way to getting fluids. He didn’t think he needed to say anything to Bell, she always seemed to just know.

“Did you throw up the meds?”

“Nope,” he planted a hand on his unsettled, bloated stomach, “but I might.” 

“Well, try not to,” Bella rolled her eyes, then dangled her fingers for JD, “pspspsps, let’s have dinner, poor thing. You must be starving.”

Jonah stayed quiet as he heard Bella move around in the kitchen, serving JD her food and sorting through the mess. He continued to sip on his gatorade, only to find that had been a mistake when a sharp burp brought up a splash of acidic liquid to his throat. 

“Fuck me,” Jon groaned, curling up and trying to massage the burps out of his belly before he ended up wasting all the hard work to keep down his meds. 

“Don’t do that,” Bella circled the coffee table, holding a tall mug filled with coffee for herself. She unceremoniously pushed his leg to the side so they could share the couch and leaned in, slapping Jonah’s hand away from his belly, “let me.”

“Bella…” Jonah’s face burned with embarrassment, which got even worse when she pressed her fingers against his sloshy, bloated belly and it immediately caused a sick burp to erupt.

Bell rolled her eyes, smirking at him, “relax, I promise I’m not gonna tell anyone.”

Jon scoffed, cupping his mouth and belching again, his throat aching with the force behind it, “please.���

“Maybe just Leo,” Bella grinned, sliding her hand over the curve of his sick belly and chuckling when Jonah let out a groan at her threat. 

[writing-whump]

i literally need: your sarcastic cold behaviour unemotional boy best friend that smh wants comfort when they’re unwell but not talking getting a bad tummy ache that has them desperate for cuddles and tummy rubs

ok this is like my favoritest thing everr i Adoreeee cold stoic guy being all soft for tummy rubs [writing these from the perspective of the friend] [more focused on the setup than the tummy rubs since ultimately theyre all going to the same place]

Your character is generally very un-expressive and thinks they're good at hiding their pain. They aren't. There's a marked difference in their behavior. Each time their friend asks if they're okay, they try to dismiss the question, but there's a definite pleading look in their eyes that's practically begging for attention, even though they hate showing weakness. At what point does their friend finally decide enough is enough and make them accept some care?

Your character never admits when something's wrong, even when it's plainly obvious. It is, in fact, very plainly obvious that they're not feeling good today, and they aren't even particularly trying to hide it. Finally, their friend asks what's the matter, and they reluctantly admit that their belly hurts. Their friend is both surprised and worried by their willingness to tell them and immediately jumps into caretaker mode.

Your character isn't one for physical affection, or any affection for that matter. Their belly is aching badly, though, and they want nothing more than to curl up and have their tummy rubbed. After powering through for a while, they finally cave to the pain and softly lay their head on their friend's shoulder, much to the friend's surprise. How does their friend respond?

Your character's belly has been upset all day, and their friend can tell. The friend doesn't want to make a big deal of it, knowing your character likely wouldn't respond well, but eventually they feel too sorry for them to let it go any longer. They take your character into their arms and give them a gentle tummy rub, and, to their astonishment, your character snuggles right up as though they'd been waiting for it.

Your character is a snarky little bitch and always has some comment to make. Their friends are used to this; they anticipate it. That's why it's so noticeable when your character keeps their mouth shut for once. Their friend grows increasingly concerned by their uncharacteristic quietness as the day goes on, trying to figure out what's the matter until they finally have to ask. Does your character answer honestly?

Your character tends to hide their pain like a cat, not wanting to show any vulnerability. When they come down with an awful tummyache, though, it gets difficult to keep up their stoic appearance. Eventually, the unhappy gurgling of their aching belly gives them away, and their friend immediately starts fussing over them. Does your character lean into it right away, or does it take a minute to let themself open up?

[writing-whump]

I'm in the fluffiest mood lately, so how about a no stakes sickfic. Movie night and the trip (Matt, Sel/Zaya) are home and decide to put on something like spiderverse or smth else, point being, either Isaiah or Matt gets super motion sick from it

Something fluffy it is. Thank you for the ask, Soup!!💙

Cinema sickness

The middle position was the best.

Matthew didn't notice when exactly they started to fight for it like that, but it was increasingly a place one of them got as special treat.

Like of course, when Isaiah was having his not so heart episodes that Seline still didn't know the cause of or when he was emotional. Then it wad Seline herself with a fever. She also usurped the spot most openly when she was well.

Matthew was a little too emebrassed to be that forward. Not when he was feeling fine.

They bought a camera projector they have been saving for a few months. Seline dreamed about the home cinema early on and Isaiah was such a movie buff, it was only to be expected.

Matthew found the cinema experience tiresome because of all the people, so their own private living room cinema because of the projector? Sounded fun. Though the cinema made for good people training.

"You guys didn't watch the second Spiderverse movie yet, right?" Seline said, taking control of the chromcast with her phone to put it on.

"I didn't see the first one either," Matthew grumbled as she climbed up between him and Isaiah who was scrolling through IMDb. He had a thing for ratings, while Seline loved comments and spoilers.

Matthew considered himself the only sane and commonly invested movie person. He liked to get surprised.

"The animation is out of this world. The first movie got an Oscar for it too, but they went overboard and beyond with the second. Each universe has a different animation style! It's the perfect movie for a cinema." Seline waved her phone in front of Matthew enthusiastically.

"Isn't animation for children?"

Isaiah and Seline both gave him scandalised looks. "In what hole did you live until now for such an outdated opinion?" Isaiah asked teasingly.

Matthew rolled his eyes. Didn't look like he would have a say today.

"I don't think you need the first one to understand," Seline said thoughtfully as she put the movie on. "They explain it pretty well, plus I can always explain things to you if you need it."

"You are still more of a fan of the first one, aren't you?" Isaiah said, bumping against her. They were sitting shoulder to shoulder, all three of them.

"I think the character development is simply better there? Also the relationships. The focus on bad mentor and a confused kid and different father figured...this one goes more into the romance storyline-"

"The focus just shifts from him to her's all-"

Matthew shook his head. "Alright, quit it. I want to see for myself."

The movie looked like a very expensive video game. The animation really was something else. Matthew understood quickly they would not be able to film stuff like this for real.

So many colours and so much quick movement. Their living room wall was basically flickering, going from one side of the colour spectrum to the next at rapid speed that had his head spinning.

How could there be so much happening on the screen? It was downright impossible to catch it all.

His eyes felt tired from it. It was all so fast and coupled with the music it was downright aggressive.

Matthew didn't notice when, but the left side of his head felt like someone held it in a vice grip. The more he watched and tried to make sense of what was happening, the more his left temple pounded in unison with his heart.

He found himself shaking his head to clear his vision, rubbing at the side of his face. He even tried closing one eye and then the other. But the images just kept coming and there was some kind of dramatic scene with spidermen all over the screen and damn, his head really hurt.

Seline was leaning her head against Isaiah's shoulder, her legs stretched out and touching them both. Her lap seemed very inviting.

Matt leaned to the side experimentally. He wanted to go slow and see how that would be taken, but the possibility of getting some cover from the screen was getting more irresistible by the second.

He slumped down into Seline's lap, twisting so his face was against her stomach. The lights were all over the living room, reaching even to the windows and the kitchen. No hiding from them.

Matthew closed his eyes, face buried in Seline's belly. He secured her from squirming with his arm over her torso, stretched out all the way to Isaiah's tight. If the other wolf wanted to protest or made any move of displeasure, Matt would quickly notice from that position.

His head hurt. Why just the left side of his face? It was tingling.

Everything was moving too much. The dizzying spinning sensation didn't quite go away, although he had his eyes squeezed shut and wasn't looking.

Not to mention he was starting to feel vaguely queasy, his dinner sloshing in his stomach angrily.

"Mattie, you aren't watching," Seline admonished softly. Her hand went into his hair though, petting it softly. He melted under her touch, grateful for a pleasant feeling to focus on.

Suddenly there was the incredible sound of the movie stopping.

"Matt? You tired?" Isaiah asked, shifting somewhere behind his head.

"Mhhhhhhhhmmmm." Was he that obvious? Suspicious? He wanted to stay huddled there in the softness, thanks.

Isaiah's hand landed on his arm. The older wolf reserved his touches for when Matthew felt sick. But they were so physically close these days, because of Seline of course, no other reason, Matthew kind of craved it, even when he didn't need it.

Or maybe it would count now. But he didn't want to ruin the celebratory mood by being a baby. It was a stupid children's movie, for God's sake.

"We can just call it a night, I think. Continuation tomorrow," Isaiah suggested, ever the peace keeper trying to accommodate everyone.

It sounded nice to not continue the movie in any case. But going to bed created a new set of problems.

Matthew would have to move.

Seline wiggled under his head. "You are heavy," she said playfully. She seemed more open to the gesture than Matthew expected. For no reason at all.

Matthew hummed non-committalally not sure how to explain or escape his predicament without losing his dinner. His stomach was churning angrily and his head was still pounding, sound or not.

Isaiah chucked. "You can sleep here for all I care, but at least let the lady get her PJs."

Matthew huffed at that, but opening his mouth wasn't a good idea. A little burp escaped, muffled against Seline's ribcage.

Seline's fingers in his hair stilled. "Mattie? You feeling alright?"

Did she notice that he got burpy when he was about to spew? He could just be full. Damn it all, the risks of living with people so closely.

Another burp, this time a little louder and wetter. Matthew pressed his face closer into Seline's shirt. It smelled of rain and ozone and grapefruit.

He felt both of their gazes on him without looking. They were probably mouthing something to each other at this point. He could picture it vividly.

The pain in his left temple spiked and he moaned quietly.

Seline's cold hand cupped his nape, stroking his neck up to his cheek where she could reach.

"...If I move, I'll hurl," he admitted finally, figuring he should inform her of the danger she was currently in.

The sigh came from Isaiah though, as the raven haired man moved gently away from the sofa into the direction of the kitchen.

"What's wrong? Is your belly upset?"

Jesus, that sounded childish when she said it like that. Not to mention that weird new Mattie nickname.

"Headhurtss," he manged to get through his gritted teeth, still entirely muffled against her stomach. It was quiet, churning only gently, like a purring cat.

"Has it been hurting for long?" She sounded amazingly calm considering he was lying across her lap. "You seemed fine to me," she said with puzzlement. He could imagine the way her forehead creased, a little wrinkle between her eyebrows as she thought back about the evening.

He opened his mouth the respond, but another burp rushed out instead. Pocket of air against her stomach. Saliva was flooding his mouth.

Matthew loosed his hold on her reluctantly, turning so he would be lying on her knees. He covered his eyes with his hands. "Ow."

Seline placed her hands on both sides of his face. "Where?" Her voice was impossibly soft.

He pushed her cool hand - how was it so cool? - against the left side of his forehead.

He felt more than saw two of her fingertips on his temple, making tiny circular movements against it. She bowled over him, her lips hovering over his ear. "How is this? Should I stop?"

"No, that's nice," he said, relaxing a little. The gentle pressure felt good against the pain, though his stomach was still roiling.

Isaiah came back then, the sofa dipping under his weight as he knelt on Matthew's other side. "I got a bowl if you need it."

"Not the nice popcorn bowl, come on," Seline complained, lifting her head.

"It's big and deep," Isaiah protested, sounding amused.

Matthew groaned at the banter. The headache was giving away a bit at the message, but the nausea rose steadily no matter what he did. He felt air in his throat and spit flooding his mouth. He didn't want to move away from Seline's fingers or the attention, but his stomach cramped angrily then.

It had him shooting up into general direction of up. Except he felt dizzy right away, swaying and moaning.

Isaiah grabbed his shoulder to steady him.

Matthew held his eyes shut against the spinning of the room, trusting him to have the bowl at the right place, cause he couldn't aim. His head exploded on his left side with the sensation and puke rocketed into his mouth.

He was right to trust him. The vomit made a splashing sound against the bowl without him even looking, Isaiah holding it under hid chin.

Seline's hands came to cup his forehead from behind. "You are okay, you are okay. Just get it up."

Matthew gave in to his body completely then, a little more voluntarily at the support. His senses were all over the place. He couldn't tell which was was up and down and his left side of the face as pounding and burning from warmth.

More waves of vomit came, easier to bring up now that he wasn't fighting it. When he thought he would catch a break, a loud burp brought in one more splash and then two more. His back arched, only Isaiah's hold on his shoulder keeping him upright. The sofa was moving like a water bed.

When he was finished, he spat the rest of the foul taste and slumped blindly back into Seline's lap. He wanted her nice scent and her cool hands and the little message against his temple that had a drilling machine against it.

"Better now?" she asked, her hands on his face just like he wanted, stroking his cheek and forehead.

"Mhhhhhhhhhmmmm." There was a relief from the nausea, but he was still afraid to open his eyes.

He could vaguely sense Isaiah's movements as he got rid of the bowl, returned to position it next to Matthew. Then circled around, fitting himself into the opening between Matthew's side and the sofa.

Matthew wasn't sure when vomiting because a group activity, or if he shouldn't apologise or feel embarrassed for making a fool of himself.

He sighed contendly as Seline went back to massaging his temple. Isaiah was rubbing his arm gently, as if to remind him he was there.

And who was Matthew to refuse the middle spot?

[writing-whump]

Uploading the color and B&W version of this. It’s a scrapped concept sketch for my experimental MHA comic (posted a few weeks ago.) Thought I’d share.

Oh, and the reason they’re not using their quirks to blast out of there? Quirk suppressants (or something). I decided not to put Kaminari in the comic version because I was having trouble writing him.