Hello! I was wondering if you could write about having a POTS flare-up in the middle of working out or something like that. If not, that's fine as well! Hope you have an amazing day, and I enjoy reading your writing!
Hello! I'm so sorry this took so long to write, I've been trying to leave my job and the interviews for new positions have really cut into my free time.
I hope you enjoy! And as always, a big shout out to my sister for being a medical professional and helping me come up with realistic scenarios.
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Xavier
Xavier was training with you in preparation for your Hunter's Association practical exam. He had wanted you to take the day off since you’d just finished a long shift, but you were insistent that if he didn’t go with you, you would go to the gym alone. That day’s focus was strength training.
You were mid lunge, holding dumbbells, when a wave of fatigue hit. Your knees wobbled, your arms started to shake, and your pulse spiked. The room tilted slightly, and every little noise became louder and sharper, making your head spin. Your breathing turned shallow, and you dropped the weights, leaning against the wall. Your vision started to swim, and before your legs could give out, Xavier was there, supporting your weight.
With his help, you sank to the floor and rested your head between your knees, trying to catch your breath.
"It’s okay, Starlight. I’ve got you," he said, his voice calm and steady. You closed your eyes, focusing on his words as your heartbeat slowly began to settle.
"You pushed too hard today. Let me take care of you," he continued, rubbing your back. "Do you have electrolytes in your bag?"
You nodded weakly, and he shifted beside you, pulling out the bottle. He pressed it gently to your lips, and you tilted your head back, taking small sips.
"Thank you," you whispered after a few more swallows.
"I wouldn’t let you handle this on your own," Xavier said softly, brushing damp strands of hair from your forehead. His hands lingered, cupping your face, and slowly your body began to feel like it belonged to you again.
After a long moment, you leaned back against the wall, your breathing gradually evening out. "I hate how this hits me out of nowhere," you admitted quietly, frustration and embarrassment evident in your voice.
"I know," he murmured, sitting beside you. "But you’re strong, strong enough to keep getting back up, and strong enough to let me help when you need it."
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Zayne:
When you had told Zayne you had a fever, he insisted you come in right away to make sure there was nothing major happening. You made your way to the hospital and were feeling okay, despite the fever, and when you checked in, a nurse ushered you to the exam room where Zayne was waiting.
He greeted you with his usual calm smile. “Hello. Let’s get you checked out, alright?”
You nodded, sitting on the exam table as he wrapped the blood pressure cuff around your arm. He was halfway through your vitals when the room started to feel smaller, warmer. Your heartbeat fluttered and then raced. A wave of dizziness hit so fast you barely had time to grab the edge of the table.
“Zayne…” you managed, your voice faint.
His expression shifted instantly, turning serious. “Hey, I’ve got you,” he said, steadying you with one hand while lowering the exam table with the other. “Talk to me, what’s happening?”
Your breathing quickened and you spoke between gasps. “Heart’s racing… feels like it’s spinning…”
He was already moving, grabbing the blood pressure cuff, checking your pulse, then reaching for the saline IV kit. “Sounds like you’re having a flare up,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “You’re okay, I promise.” He added with a reassuring squeeze of your hand.
You could hear the soft rip of packaging and the clink of metal against the counter. “Just breathe for me,” he said gently, sliding a pillow behind your head. “You know the drill, feet up, deep breaths.”
Your hands trembled as he prepped your arm, his tone soothing despite the urgency in his movements. “Little pinch,” he warned, and then the IV line was in, cool liquid beginning to flow.
The world steadied as he monitored your heart rate, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of your hand. “You scared me for a second,” he admitted softly. “Next time you even think about standing up too fast, you call me.”
You gave a weak laugh. “You’re not on speed dial for flare-ups, Zayne, there’s other patients, more pressing matters.”
“I should be,” he said, a small smile breaking through his professional mask. “I like being the one you can lean on.”
You exhaled shakily, the fog in your head beginning to lift as the fluids did their work. “Thank you,” you whispered, eyelids heavy.
“Always,” he said, voice low but sure. “You just rest. I’ll keep watch until you’re steady again.”
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Rafayel:
The restaurant was the kind of place that whispered luxury. Crystal glassware, soft jazz, and the shimmer of candlelight reflected in the ocean view beyond the windows. Rafayel had insisted on taking you out, saying you both deserved a night away from his studio, and out of your apartment.
You hadn’t realized how much you’d eaten until the last bite of buttered lobster settled heavily in your stomach.The room felt stifling, like the walls were closing in. Your pulse began to race and your vision blurred around the edges.
Rafayel leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing in mock suspicion. “Cutie… are you plotting to pass out on me right here in front of these fancy people?”
You managed a weak smile that quickly turned into a wobbly inhale. “I… I feel not great,” you admitted, resting your head in your hands.
He slid out of his chair before you could protest, kneeling beside you in an instant. “Ah, so it’s a lobster betrayal, huh? Your stomach has declared war on your legs?” His tone was light, but the concern was obvious in his eyes.
Your knees shook, your pulse was too fast, and you leaned toward him instinctively. “I…”
“I’ve got you, cutie,” he interrupted softly, taking your hand and holding it firmly. “Breathe for me, slow, even.” He breathed with you, guiding you through.
He signaled a waiter with a small wave, still crouched beside you. “Water. And sprinkle some salt in there. Fast.”
When the glass arrived, Rafayel pressed it gently to your lips. The cool liquid was relief in your mouth. “See? Your body’s just dramatic, trying to digest all that deliciousness at once. Not a crime, cutie, but let’s let it calm down.”
You sipped slowly, eyelids heavy, your heart gradually returning to a normal rhythm.
“Better?” he asked, brushing a stray hair from your forehead.
“A little,” you whispered.
“Good,” he said, grinning. “Next time, we split the lobster. You handle the beauty, I handle the chaos, and maybe I’ll keep you from fainting on me again, cutie.”
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Sylus:
Steam filled the bathroom as you turned off the shower. By the time you wrapped a towel around yourself, your skin was clammy, your heart pounding hard against your ribs. You braced yourself against the counter, blinking away the black spots creeping into your vision, praying you’d make it to the bed before your legs gave out.
You weren’t that lucky.
Your knees buckled, and you hit the ground hard. Your arms swept across the counter on instinct, sending bottles and brushes clattering across the tile. The sound echoed, sharp and loud, before everything blurred into darkness. You tried to call for help, but the words never made it past your lips.
Immediately, Sylus knocked on the door. “Kitten? You okay? I heard something fall.”
When silence answered him, his tone filled with concern. “Sweetheart, if you don’t answer me, I’m coming in.”
He didn’t wait long. The door swung open, and his breath caught at the sight of you crumpled on the floor. In two strides, he was beside you, brushing your hair out of your face.
“Hey, hey, come on,” he murmured, voice breaking the quiet. “You’re okay, I’ve got you.”
He scooped you into his arms, adjusting your towel to keep you covered, and carried you to the bed. Once you were lying down, he gently pressed his fingers to your wrist. “Pulse’s racing, but steady. Heart rate’s high, probably just an episode,” he murmured. “We’ll wait it out together.”
You shivered despite the warmth, pulse still hammering in your ears. “Sorry,” you whispered when your eyelids flickered open.
“Don’t apologize, Kitten,” Sylus said softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Next time, you call me before moving. I want to catch you before it gets this far.”
You curled into the blankets, letting him hold you, his hand still gently monitoring your pulse, the disaster of the bathroom fading behind the quiet, steady rhythm of his voice and heartbeat.
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Caleb
The grocery store was busier than you expected. Caleb had insisted on doing the shopping together so he could cook you dinner, something nice, he said, “to make up for the week you’ve had.” You smiled at the thought as you navigated the aisles, filling the cart with ingredients for the complicated pasta he swore would be worth it.
By the time you reached the register, the line stretched nearly to the bakery section. You shifted from foot to foot, trying to ease the pressure in your legs, but after ten minutes of standing, a familiar wave of fatigue hit.
“Pipsqueak?” Caleb murmured from behind you, his tone teasing but concern was present. “You’re looking a little green there.”
You tried to brush it off. “I’m fine,” you said, though your knees wobbled and your arms felt heavier with every second.
“Uh-huh,” he said, eyebrows raising. “Totally fine, huh?” He caught you by the elbow just as your vision began to tunnel, and your heart started pounding in that horribly familiar way. “Yeah… not fine. Definitely not fine.”
He grabbed a bottle of cold Gatorade from the cooler near the checkout and pressed it into your hand. “Here, drink this, pips. Lean on me.”
You sipped slowly, feeling the icy liquid calm your parched throat as he wrapped an arm around your waist, steadying you against the movement of the crowded line. People were glancing, some frowning, others pretending not to notice, but you felt every eye burning into you.
“I’m so embarrassed,” you muttered, cheeks hot. “Everyone saw me nearly collapse.”
Caleb chuckled softly, brushing your cheek with his thumb. “You think I haven’t seen this a hundred times before? Pips, I’ve known you your whole life. I’m used to catching you when your body betrays you.”
You leaned against him, letting the tension drain. His hand was firm on your back, guiding your breathing, his thumb tracing circles against your side. “Next time,” he said, smirking, “we’re taking the express line. Or I carry you straight to checkout like the hero I am.”
Despite everything, you laughed, your heart still racing. “Please don’t.”
“I’d do anything for you pips, you know that” he replied, giving you a gentle squeeze as the line finally began to move.
