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selene-and-the-cold · 8 months

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Taking a Rest (OCs, M/M)

First of all, I wanted to thank everybody who commented or reblogged or liked my fic "Taking a Ride". I was truly surprised and happy that you all enjoyed reading about Silas and Albert so much!

And since their business was not yet concluded, I present to you another installment. It can be read on its own, but I'd recommend reading their first adventure "Taking a Ride" first.

I hope to add another part, since the text post Silas and Albert are inspired by actually talked about Silas catching the cold from Albert, and we have yet to see that...

But I digress. So what are you going to read in this fic? Silas makes good on his promise and pays our sick Albert a visit for some TLC. Fluff ensues, and Silas is confronted with... feelings.

There's also a bit of snz and a bare male chest (shocking, I know...).

***

Taking a Rest

Following the exhilarating carriage ride with his dear Albert, Silas woke up the next morning with mixed feelings. It had been most unfortunate that he had had to decline Albert's invitation due to his father coming down to London to talk business with Silas. However, since this nuisance of a meeting could not be avoided, Silas decided to take it on in stride. The sooner he tackled whatever problem presented itself, the sooner he would have time to make good on his promise and call on his poor Albert, who had contracted a chill on his business trip to Cardiff.

Archer, Silas' valet, had thankfully prepared everything so Silas only needed to freshen up and slip into his clothes with Archer's assistance prior to meeting his father. As usual, Silas skipped breakfast, a habit Albert had often reprimanded him for, but Silas usually did not see the point of it - at least if there was no company to take his breakfast with.

He did, however, take the time for a sip of tea, as his throat was quite parched.

The meeting with his father was – regrettably – not as boring as Silas had anticipated. Well, technically, it was always a good thing when conversations were not boring. In this case, however, a boring conversation would have been much preferred, since there had been some irregularities in the accounts of one of their smaller estates and Silas' father had asked him to look into the matter.

It had to be done discreetly, though, since there was a possibility that the estate's bookkeeper was involved. Therefore, they had to avoid rousing the man's suspicions lest it would lead to evidence being destroyed.

It was altogether unpleasant business, and Silas left the meeting with a slight headache.

At least his father would drive up to their home estate in the country that very night, so Silas would not have to deal with any courtesy visits.

After parting ways with his father, Silas set his private network in motion to discreetly gather information on the matter. This meant several carriage rides to various gentlemen of his acquaintance as well as a long stretch of letter-writing in his office, until Silas was finally free to visit Albert, who had been on his mind all day.

~~~~

“I'm afraid, Lord de Lacy, but Sir Albert is not in a state to receive any callers this afternoon,” Barker, Albert's valet, informed him when Silas came round to call on his friend.

Silas' heart sank. Why would Albert have Barker decline visitors? This could only mean that poor Bertie's chill had taken a turn for the worse.

“I understand. However, we arranged a meeting for today only yesterday evening. Could you please inform Sir Albert that it is me who's calling, Mr. Barker?”

Barker seemed to consider whether he was in a position to decline this request. Silas was, after all, a lord. So he finally bobbed his head and said: “Very well, my Lord,” before he left Silas to wait in Albert's entrance hall. While he waited, Silas found himself fidgeting nervously with the brim of his hat, which he had taken off upon entering. Not knowing how Albert was faring proved to be pure agony.

After what seemed like an eternity, Barker returned and if Silas had not known better, he would have sworn that the ghost of a smile had lingered on the valet's face.

“My apologies, my Lord. Sir Albert will see you now.”

Silas followed Barker into Albert's reading room, where he was greeted by a crackling fire, and a pale-faced Albert.

He was outstretched on a chaise-lounge, propped up with pillows and wearing what looked like his sleepwear and the silk, navy-blue dressing gown with paisley pattern that brought out the colour of his eyes so well. A thick blanket covered his legs and chest, and Albert clasped a white handkerchief in his hand, while a cup of tea sat on a side-table next to the chaise-lounge. It was all a rather pitiful sight.

As he saw Silas approach, Albert weakly tried to sit up straighter, but Silas immediately went over and placed a hand on his arm to stop him.

“Albert, please, don't sit up on my behalf, there's no need...,” Silas began, but stopped himself from fussing, acutely aware of Barker's continued presence.

He withdrew his hand from Albert's arm, and wished things would not have to be so complicated. All he wanted was to comfort the person he... cared about? Liked? Held in great esteem?

Suddenly bewildered, Silas blinked a few times. What exactly was this... feeling spreading there in his chest?

They had never talked about what it was that they shared. It had all just fallen into place one day, so naturally that Silas never had a reason to question or define this new level their friendship had ascended to.

Then again, he had never seen Albert so pale and sick. Had never worried about him so much.

“Thank you Barker, that will be all for the mboment. Please leave us alone and inform any other callers that I won't receive anyone today.”

“As you wish, Sir,” Barker said, then closed the door behind him as he retreated, leaving the two men to it.

“Oh Bertie, you look awfully pale. How are you, dearest?,” Silas asked, as soon as he was certain they were alone, taking off his gloves as he sat down on the chaise-lounge next to his ailing friend. Now that it was just the two of them, all his worry and affection for Albert flowed freely from him once again.

“Truth be told, I have beed better...,” Albert admitted, his usual melodious voice reduced to a weak, rasping, quivery thing. Silas winced at the sound of it. Before he could express his sympathy, though, Albert hastily turned away from him to half-muffle a sneeze into his handkerchief.

“Hehh'ESshhTSsHHtt!! Ugh.. Excuse mbe...”

“Bless you,” Silas offered and gently rubbed Albert's thigh through the blanket. “No need to apologise.”

“Thank you...,” Albert sighed, then sank back against the chaise-lounge, looking thoroughly drained from the effort of turning away to sneeze. “Oh, Sy, I feel truly awful. I couldn't stop sndeezing all day. Mby throat is sore, mby chest hurts from coughing, and mby head has ndot stopped pounding since I got up.”

Silas tsked in sympathy, scooting further up the chaise-lounge until he could rest a hand on Albert's chest. It was warm, yet Albert seemed to be cold despite the merry flames dancing in the fireplace.

“Oh, Bertie! I am sorry you're feeling so poorly... Although I might think the headache was to be expected, since you've been quite tipsy yesterday.”

Albert closed his eyes and let his head loll back against the chaise-lounge with a pathetic sigh. “Please dod't rembind mbe of mby own foolishness... Heh'EsSSHH!” The sneeze was followed by a little whimper and Albert dabbed at his running nose in a pathetic attempt to maintain decorum.

“My apologies,” Silas said with a small grin, taking Albert's free hand to kiss it gently.

“But I've taken your advice, Sy, and have been resting for mbost of the day,” Albert continued and bestowed a tired smile on his friend.

“Very good, my dear. And I would like you to continue in this manner for at least the next two days... We can't have this chill settle any deeper into your bones than it already has.”

As he spoke, Silas's hand travelled from Albert's chest to his cheek, cupping it gently, before Silas leaned down to place a fond kiss on Albert's forehead.

“Mhm... I do believe you are running a fever, too...,” Silas murmured, his lips still lingering on the warm skin.

“I do?,” Albert asked in a small voice, sounding thoroughly disheartened by this news.

“I'm afraid so, dearest. Perhaps we could send for a cool compress for your forehead... Oh and I brought something for you as well,” Silas added, all caring smiles as he pulled a little container out of the pocket of his suit.

“I stopped by the pharmacy before I came to call on you and the apothecary highly recommended this balm to soothe coughs and headaches. It is supposed to be applied directly to the chest and / or to your back, but you have to keep warm and stay bundled up after applying it, so the balm won't cool your skin down too much...”

Seeing Albert's face, Silas suddenly stopped prattling on about the the balm. Albert studied him with an incredulous look, his glassy eyes wide, his face the most earnest Silas had seen him since before he had to leave for Cardiff when they had a hushed, stolen goodbye in the broom cabinet of their Gentlemen's Club.

Had he said something wrong?

“What... what is it, Albert?”

The uncertainty in his voice was unmistakeable and Silas hated being so vulnerable, so fragile. With just one look, Albert had him all flustered and insecure, tearing away the carefully crafted layers of “Lord Silas”, exposing the little awkward boy he was, always in the shadows of his grandiose older brother.

“Ndothing,” Albert was quick to reassure, “it's just... Ndo one has ever brought mbe balms for mby chest when I was sick before. Actually ndo one ever called on mbe when I was sick before.”

“Oh?”

Albert's words took a moment to fully settle in, threatening to make Silas blush. Albert had admitted this so casually, so calmly as if it was the most common thing in the world. Did he have any idea how this set Silas's inner world in turmoil? How his heart was suddenly hammering in his chest?

It took another moment for Silas to regain his footing, his boyish charm slowly returning while he tried to give his next words a light, nonchalant tone as if Albert had made a little joke instead of a confession.

“Oh!... But you knew I would call on you today, Bertie!,” he gave Albert's leg a little swat for good measure. “I promised, didn't I? So no need to be all flabbergasted by it. That's what friends do.”

Albert sniffled, his face still earnest and his eyes filled with an unspoken fondness that ran straight through Silas' heart.

“Yes, you did, Sy. Hehh...HEhh'ERrrSSHHU! Snnnff... However, mbaking a promise and keeping it are two very different stories.”

Silas blushed, then fussed with the blanket, arranging and rearranging it, before he ventured to gaze at his friend.

“I'll always keep my promises to you, Bertie,” he said sincerely. Then, feeling the sudden weight of his words, he panicked and started to babble. “Well, I'll try, alas I'm far from perfect, so there will be ample opportunity for me to make a muck of things...”

Why the blazes was he rambling on about mucking up and failing to keep promises? Thankfully, Albert had the grace to interrupt him.

“I kndow that you are ndot perfect, Sy. And frankly, thank God for that! Otherwise I would be completely out of mby depth with you... Hehh... ESSHHiU!!”

Albert pitched forward with a pitiful sneeze, doing his best to catch it in his handkerchief, but the poor piece of fabric had already caught many a sneeze today and seemed to be at the end of its capacity.

“Here, Bertie. Take mine,” Silas offered softly, then took Albert's spent handkerchief from him, stuffed it into his coat pocket and replaced it with his own. His initials – SdL – were elaborately stitched into one corner, and Silas found a sudden pleasure in the idea of Albert having this piece of him close at all times.

“Thank you, Sy,” Albert sighed, then tended to his nose, which was a deep shade of angry pink and looked thoroughly tender and irritated.

“Ndow, where is this balm you were talking about earlier?”

Silas handed the small container to his friend, smiling as Albert squinted to read the label. He had noticed that Albert usually needed his reading glasses when confronted with smaller writing.

“What do you say, Bertie? Shall we try to find out if this balm really can do wonders for your cold?”

Albert nodded, handing the container back to Silas, seemingly too exhausted to try and read the small, intricate writing.

Since they were alone and he was about to take care of his poor Bertie, Silas shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over the back of a nearby chair. Standing only in his shirt and waistcoat, he rolled up his sleeves, then approached Albert with the confident smile of a world-renowned physician about to perform his best healing procedure.

“Alright, Bertie, let us begin. Ah, but I presume I would have to come a bit closer for this to work, wouldn't I?,” Silas mused with a sly grin, then came over and sat on top of Albert, straddling him once more just like he had the previous evening in his carriage. Albert chuckled, amused by this replication of yesterday's events.

“Now Bertie, that's much better, isn't it?” Silas asked, echoing the question he had asked Albert right after straddling him the previous evening.

“Mbuch better,” Albert replied grinning, happy to provide yesterday's line for their little game of re-enactment. He was too tired to grab and squeeze Silas' buttocks today, though. Instead, he held on weakly to Silas' hips, his fingers digging into the fabric of his fine trousers.

Silas proceeded to carefully peel Albert's chest out of the many layers of fabric protecting it against the chill.

At first, he pushed back the blanket to reveal Albert's dressing gown. In order to slip under it, Silas had to loosen the belt which held the dressing gown in place. This led to much squirming and giggling, as Silas' hand dived deep to reach the dressing gown's belt and to undo the knot, swift fingers moving indecently close to Albert's most private parts.

“Ah! Dod't tease mbe, Sy, I regrettably feel too weak for such shenanigans today,” Albert protested with an adorable pout. Apparently, he was just as dejected as Silas that this cold had taken so much out of him.

“My apologies, Sir Albert, I will keep my hands thoroughly in check from now on~”

Albert chuckled, but had to turn his head to the side to cough into the pillow that supported him. Silas was jolted around with every cough, and his heart went out to his poor Albert, who was left to breathe heavily for a few moments in the wake of his coughing fit.

“Perhaps this isn't such a good idea, Bertie. I should probably not be sitting on top of you..,” Silas began, his leg already twitching as if to get up, but Albert caught Silas' hand and led it back to the lapels of his dressing gown.

“Ndo, dod't stop on mby account, Sy. Please continue. I am quite curious to see what this wondrous balm will accomplish and you cad't expect a sick, ailing man like mbe to undress himself...”

Albert looked up at him with the most delicious little pout, and Silas could not help himself, but leaned in for a tender kiss.

“Alright then...,” he mumbled against Albert's lips, smiling into him before he sat back up. “... where were we? Oh yes, right... these buttons can't stay closed..”

Nimble fingers made quick work of the buttons on Albert's night attire, revealing his bare chest. Albert shivered slightly, but looked more than pleased to be so exposed in front of Silas.

“Mhm.. there we go.. Now, before we can proceed, I need to make a good, thorough inspection of your chest...”

“You do~?,” Albert asked, his voice a delighted little squeal.

“Oh yes, Bertie. Very thorough~”

Silas dived in to conduct his "inspection", peppering Albert's chest with soft kisses, nibbling, licking, and sucking at the pale, milky skin, humming in delight and thoroughly enjoying Albert's softness on his tongue and lips.

Meanwhile, Albert melted into the chaise-lounge, biting his fist to prevent himself from making indecently loud noises and kicking his feet as Silas' tongue took care of an especially sensitive spot.

“Oh, Sy... hmm... oh wait!.. I... I have thhho... eehhh.....Hhhheehh'ESShhsttTSHHU!! HessSSHHU!! EtttSSHHusshh! Oh mby goodness, pardon mbe!”

Albert had sneezed without much warning. Silas had kept his head down, so the sneezes had mostly gone right over his shoulder, but he had felt the urgent panting of Albert's chest as well as the shuddering release. And good heavens had it felt exciting!

“Bless you,” he purred into Albert's neck, nibbling and kissing the warm skin there for good measure. Albert's hands clawed at his back with newfound strength, keeping him close until Silas had kissed that one spot right behind Albert's ear he loved so much to be kissed and sucked at.

As expected, Albert made one of his adorable little sounds of pleasure, and Silas sat up again, feeling thoroughly accomplished now that he had brought Albert to make his little noise.

While Albert composed himself, panting and snuffling, Silas licked his lips as if he had just enjoyed a very fine glass of brandy, then smoothing a strand of his dark hair back in its place.

“I dare say my inspection is complete, Bertie, and I found nothing amiss.”

Albert grinned up at him, all flushed cheeks and runny nose, but with that warm, cheeky glint in his eyes Silas loved so much.

“I'b glad to hear it, Sy.”

“Time to see what this wondrous balm can do...”

Grabbing the little container, Silas opened it, then sniffled tentatively at the smooth substance in it. It smelled of herbs and essential oils, quite potent, but pleasant. Satisfied with its scent, Silas dipped his finger into the balm, taking up a dollop of the mixture, which he then carefully transferred to Albert's chest. Starting from the middle, he rubbed the balm in in small circles, covering the left side of Albert's chest first before he moved on to the right.

“How's that, Bertie?”

Albert shivered.

“A tad cold, but not unpleasant. Ah, but I do believe the scent of it mbakes mbe.. hehh Heh'ERRSSHHU!!! ssniff sndeeze.”

Albert sneezed thrice more until his nose was accustomed to the scent, his body bobbing under Silas from the force of it. He mainly caught the sneezes in the handkerchief, but a few droplets grazed Silas' neck and shoulder.

Silas kept administering these soft touches for some time, taking up another small dollop of the mixture to ensure that Albert's chest was thoroughly covered. And since Albert seemed to enjoy the touch, Silas kept running his hands in circles over Albert's chest long after the balm had been applied.

At one point, though, Albert's chest seemed to get cold, so Silas cleaned the remaining balm off his hands and set out to bundle his Bertie back up again.

“Now, Bertie, that was quite enough fun and games for today. You are sick, after all and should be resting,” Silas said in his best mock-stern voice. Albert answered with his most demure look, before he had to cough again. The sound was deep and rich and set Silas to worry once again.

“See, Bertie, that is exactly what I am on about...”

Albert wheezed, undeniably exhausted at this point.

“Perhaps you are right, Sy. This has been quite the excitembent already... Hehh'ESShhTttsshh!” He quickly brought Silas' handkerchief to his nose to sneeze into it, then sank back into his pillows with a sigh, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead.

Silas made sure that all the buttons on Albert's top were closed, before he neatly folded his dressing gown closed over Albert's chest, wrapping him in like a precious gift. Finally, he pulled the blanket up until right under Albert's chin.

“Ah, Sy, stop, that is quite enough! I will ndeed a bit of space to breathe.”

“Sorry, Bertie, I just wanted to make sure that you are warm enough.”

Just like the night before, Silas took Albert's face in his hands, examining it. The dark circles under Albert's eyes were edged even deeper into the fair skin, and Albert's nose was tinged an angry shade of deep pink, bordering on red. His eyes looked tired, yet content, but he was all in all a miserable sight.

“Promise you'll rest until I return to call on you tomorrow?,” Silas asked, soft eyes searching Albert's gaze.

“I promise,” Albert whispered, and Silas kissed him once again as a long, tender goodbye.

#Colds #Snz #contagion #Albert is sick and Silas knows how to make him feel a bit better #Silas x Albert #my writing #fluff because the two of them wanted to enjoy some TLC together

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ana-snz · 17 days

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Also, (hopefully) last thing.

Since I’ve seen a few points about this I thought I’d mention that I also have moral scrupulosity OCD and I understand how difficult and triggering some of these conversations can be, but as I’m sure all us OCD baddies are familiar with, nuance and grey areas are critical. It’s a struggle to find the balance between entirely disengaging from & refusing to even think about a triggering topic, and engaging in compulsions. As someone who is involved in a fair bit of political / social issue stuff, I find myself having to check myself often and take a beat when I realize I’m feeling triggered, because it is not the person who has triggered me’s responsibility to reassure me that I’m not a bad person. It is harder for us to engage with certain things, yes. We are still allowed to be kind and gentle with ourselves and take our time learning and unlearning things and remember that our thoughts are not our actions. AND, at the same time, we are still responsible for the way we show up in the world. We are not excused from having to sit with discomfort (in fact, it’s something I’m sure a lot of us have to practice regularly doing ERP 🤪). While it is difficult for me and would likely send me on a mini-spiral, I would never want someone to feel like they can’t address harmful behavior or rhetoric that I am engaging in because of my OCD. It’ll suck to course correct, my brain will be very mean to me about it, but I am capable of it, and in fact it is empowering and awesome to be able to sit with discomfort!

So for this topic specifically, if you’re feeling triggered or shamed by the insinuation that “certain thoughts are bad”, I am making it crystal clear that that is NOT what I saying and I reject that notion entirely. That being said, we can still hold harmful viewpoints, and it is important to recognize where we are perhaps lacking some nuance or lived experience, and shouldn’t talk over the people who are experiencing something firsthand.

I’m not trying to cancel or call anyone out, I just think we need to do a better job of remembering that we are all real people dealing with our own shit outside of this lovely little snz space and we are allowed to have feelings and reactions to things, even if they aren’t always perfectly neat and contained.

#snzblr #snzblr discourse #tw moral scrupilosity

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glitterrosesnzz · 5 months

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yknow i think the main reason im hesitant to talk about my other kink is cause like. the different reaction i have to it. like yes i react the same way to snz stuff, that's still there, but like. theres MORE on top of it. like when i see some snz content of my fave character?? i'll get happy and yknow kick my legs all giddy and all that.

if i see something that even HINTS at content of my fave character involving my other kink though??

i have to get up and pace for like 3 hours before i even LOOK at the actual content to see if it actually happens. it drives me INSANE.

basically: im not telling you guys because if y'all knew you could reduce me to a state where i can only communicate via keyboard smashes FAR too quickly

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sleptwithinthesun · 1 year

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Would you be up for writing something with the prompt 🥧 for E/ddie? I'm obsessed with your S/tranger Things stuff omg

asdjkl tysm i'm so happy you've enjoyed it all!! ngl i've had a super fuckin busy week so this is gonna be very angsty :/ honestly i'm just ready to crawl into bed and sleep for a day lol.

(fill for 🥧 on the fall snz prompts list... written for e/ddie m/unson. s/teddie, 0.8K words.)

It's at the obligatory We-Survived-Again party, hosted by the Wheelers and disguised from their oblivious parents as a massive D&D session, that Eddie starts to realize that maybe he hasn't come out of everything as unscathed as he thought.

Don't get him wrong, the demobat bites hurt like a motherfucker even a week later and he's sure Ozzy's somewhere laughing at the irony of it all, but it's a bit more than just the physical injuries from Jason and his buddies and the Upside Down. His head is pounding, and his limbs feel oddly shaky. Eddie's not sure if it's nerves, or something else, but he'll deal with it later. They're trying to celebrate, here, and he has no intentions of raining on the whole thing.

Unsurprisingly, the kids are all play-fighting with each other in the middle of the Wheeler's basement while Eleven and Max—Eddie's still not quite sure what the former's deal is, but her buzzcut is badass—encourage them from the sidelines, making sure not to jar the latter's broken arm while the rest of them chat idly. Nancy and Jonathan are talking quietly, while Steve is staring wide-eyed at Argyle while the other teen starts rolling a joint and Robin grins at Steve's side. Eddie probably should join a conversation, it's not like he even knows half of these people, but he's feeling run-down and this probably isn't going to end for another hour and he's pretty much obligated to be there. He's part of this now, so it would be rude to—

"Eddie, right?"

He looks up to see Jonathan making hesitant eye contact, looking just as exhausted as Eddie feels. "Jonathan Byers. I'm Will's older brother; he's the kid with the bowl cut currently fighting with Mike."

Eddie glances over to see that Mike is, indeed, wrestling with who he assumes is Will, then back to Jonathan. Nancy's joined Steve and Robin, so at least she's not alone, but Eddie's even less familiar with Jonathan than almost anyone else here. "Yeah, I'm Eddie."

Jonathan gives him a tired smile. "Welcome to the club."

That startles a laugh out of him, and Eddie shakes his head, still in disbelief over the fact that they actually managed to survive this entire ordeal. "Thanks, man. How long have you... you know."

"Since the very beginning," Jonathan says quietly, looking over to Will. "It started with the kids, and then Nancy, and I. Steve found out, and then Robin, and now, you."

"Jesus," Eddie murmurs, then turns away to sneeze into his elbow. "hg'SHT! ih'shXt! h'SHtt! Oh, fuck, sorry."

"Bless you," he says. "You alright?"

"Yeah, no, I'm fine. Must be the dust, or something." Eddie waves his concern off, ignoring the way the itch is still blooming in his sinuses. "Anything I need to know? I haven't really had time to, you know, adjust, considering I was actively being hunted down by a bunch of jocks, but hey. It is what it is," he says, shrugging, and to his credit, Jonathan doesn't even do a double take.

Instead, he nods sagely, as if that's a normal experience (and Eddie really, really hopes it's not), and says, "The nightmares go away, eventually. It takes a little while, and they're fucking terrifying when they first start, but they go away."

"Have yours?"

Jonathan gives a wan smile. "Not yet."

Before Eddie can ask another question—maybe about how Jonathan got involved in the first place—Steve wanders over, says, "Hey, Byers," in this weird tone, and Eddie glances between the two of them for a moment.

"Hey, Harrington," Jonathan says, and his shoulders slump even further, his posture sags, and he just looks so, so exhausted, more than enough to rival the way Eddie feels right now. "I'm sorry we weren't here."

"Are you actually going to apologize for that?" Steve asks, eyes going wide. "Dude, you had no control over that. Plus, Mike's told me a bit of what happened on your end and Jesus Christ, man."

Eddie walks away, leaving them to the rest of their conversation, and settles into the corner to watch the rest of it unfold. Everyone else knows what's happening, has been a part of this for longer than he has, is catching up with each other and exchanging stories, and Eddie doesn't quite know where he fits into it all.

He just wants to go home and collapse into his bed.

But Eddie stands there, silent and more than slightly miserable, for another hour before leaving unannounced. No one seems to notice his departure, and honestly, it's a relief as he unlocks the trailer and crawls underneath his blankets.

The world can wait. He needs a minute. A week. A year.

(Jonathan had better be right about the nightmares.)

#askbox #promptfic #s/tranger t/hings snzfic #snzfic #s/tranger t/hings #e/ddie m/unson #s/teve h/arrington #s/teddie #swts fic

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suddencolds · 1 year

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4, 8, 12, 16, 20!

Thank you so much, anon!! ❤️ I had a lot of fun with these!! (Adding a cut below bc I am incapable of being concise)

4. on the contrary, do you prefer when someone stifles or lets everything go?

Sound-wise, I definitely prefer unstifled sneezes (though in fiction, I tend to gravitate towards characters who might attempt to stifle—at least initially—in order to draw attention away from themselves. I think the presentational/overly "formal" aspect of that choice is very appealing... especially if the character can't keep it up forever 😌)

8. describe your dream snz partner

What a lewd question, haha

Honestly, I hadn't thought much about my own involvement (the fics I write are always third person/I don't insert myself at all when writing them) until I met my current partner. He's the only one I've really let myself indulge in this kink with, and he checks all my boxes in that regard :')

But just generally speaking... I've always had a soft spot for the idea of someone who would be extra considerate/thoughtful + just as physically affectionate as usual if I caught a cold, (even though logically they should stay away. 😐 It would be a shame if they caught it too 🤐) Though I think they would definitely have to initiate in that regard; I feel like I'm super hesitant/embarrassed about participating in any fetish-related activities irl, and I feel guilty about asking 😭

12. are you a caretaker or masochist?

Definitely a caretaker! (I wouldn't mind being taken care of as well by someone I had feelings for, though I wouldn't really describe it as masochism—it's just a form of consideration that feels especially intimate to me).

16. quick! pick one: noseblowing vs letting it all flow

In fics, I probably have a slight preference for letting it all flow. It just goes well with two tropes I’m fond of:

1. The situation is inconvenient (the character doesn’t have access to tissues/handkerchiefs, or the task/activity that they’re engaged with doesn’t allow them the luxury of stepping aside to blow their nose 💕)

2. The character is too stubborn/too prideful (they refuse to acknowledge that their nose is running so badly that they really ought to do something about it, or they want to keep up appearances for some other reason, i.e. they’re attempting to hide/downplay an affliction, and they feel like blowing their nose would be as good as an admittance 🥰)

But I do really like both (especially if a noseblow is followed immediately by more incessant sniffles—I love the sort of miserable cold where even noseblowing offers only temporary relief)

20. what snz content do you hope someone creates/makes more of in 2023?

I’d love to see more Kokosara content from Genshin. I rarely see art/fics of them on here, if ever, but they’re truly one of my favorite pairings (enemies to lovers, brilliant military generals/strategists on opposing sides, equally matched, different strategies with begrudging mutual respect... 😭) I love when people write a darker edge to them too, or dip into the potential for nuance/moral grayness (which, to be fair, is not emphasized very much in the source material).

I think I’m definitely in the minority here, but I really love F/F content with enemies to lovers, where the women involved start off on bad terms (they’re mean to each other or at least initially cold/untrusting). I think that kind of dynamic is much more common with M/M pairings, from what I’ve seen. It’s one of my favorite romance tropes, and I think snz is the perfect catalyst to uproot the relationship’s status quo 😭

Asks from「4108927's snz ask list」📩

#thank you for sending these!!!#ask #anon

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anditvanisheslikemist · 2 years

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An ask from someone who asked to remain anonymous! (I have the actual anon option off for age-in-bio reasons, but I'm always happy to do something like this when the asker wants!)

Thanks for the ask!!

(Questions from this list.)

10. Does your OC have an "aftermath" to a snz, such as continued sniffling, nose rubbing, or something similar?

Hmm, I don't think there's anything consistent for Nico... it all depends on if it's allergies, a cold, something else, how bad it is... if he's in public, he's probably going to at least touch his nose to make sure it's clean.

For Matty: He's pretty much always going to need to blow his nose. (See below.)

11. How messy is your OC whenever they snz?

For Nico, like the answer above, it's going to depend on why he's sneezing. In general, he's going to need to blow his nose; if it's a bad allergy day or a bad cold/other illness... yeah. Lots of tissues or handkerchiefs needed. He's got a lot of experience keeping everything under control in public. If he's at home alone or just with Matty, he just accepts that there's going to be mess.

For Matty: Very. (Again: See below.)

27. Ask me a something OC snz-related you've always wanted to know.

Nico has a little crossbody bag that's pretty much permanently attached to him any time he leaves his house that has tissues, at least one handkerchief, his inhaler, a couple of options for allergy meds.

Also for Nico: He's very good about covering, etc. in public, but if he's at home/with close friends, he doesn't really bother if it's just allergies and there's no mess involved.

Matty? Oh, Matty. When Matty sneezes, it's just kind of... all through his nose. I'm not sure why, that's just how it is. Which means that if he doesn't stifle, it's almost always going to be messy. He's had that happen, in front of other people, and he never wants it to happen again. So - he stifles, hard, every time (and then blows his nose pretty intensely afterward). At this point, it would be really hard for him not to even if he's alone... even though it hurts and it means he's super prone to sinus infections. Occasionally he'll give control over to Nico, who has some ways of helping him out. Yes, there's a fic about that that I'm planning to write someday....

#these are really fun!#more asks welcome #hindsight 'verse #replies

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builder051 · 2 years

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Starbucks Sunday :)

Yes, I am a 90s vintage human coming at you from a 2010s vintage computer. I use emoticons.

I've also been in a (chemically assisted) state of "down for the night" since approximately Friday evening. We've got some family stuff going on--nothing bad with the household or kids, just to reassure--but we'll say, "unavoidable life events" are happening with extended family who live ~3 hours away. So that's some added stress. And then on our 3 hour drive the other day, we needed to call roadside assistance to replace a very, very, sad tire which chose to depart company with our vehicle.

That was late in the week. This weekend, I've been sort of wandering the house without being able to see properly. (Welcome, October. Bring along your hard freeze mornings and sunny afternoons. The lot of us with the seizures and the migraines appreciate it very much.)

I've been working mostly on my big kid's holiday advent calendar. I'll post a pic someday, once I've ordered the sturdy frame parts and can set it up properly. Right now it looks like a bunch of playmobil in various stages of re-styling. But! I thought of a great comic strip to put in this year's Christmas card, and I don't think it'll be too taxing to draw and print for you guys (and it won't be racy/18+ this time.)

Ok, now that I've blasted chatter at you, here's my plan for today:

-put up an ask game. I have one of my own invention in mind, I just need to work it out in type-written form.

-look in my inbox; I think I have a message or two to answer

-work on a short fic; I have a small moment/dialogue exchange in mind (Chasing Ghosts)

-Take all your asks, questions, suggestions, chatter, whatever you want to throw my way. I will not be able to cover your prompts today, but I am ready to hear what you're interested in reading. Autumn-themes are absolutely open (no snz, please), as are Halloween themes. I may be a little choosy with those or re-work plotlines (I don't do office halloween parties, person X is drunk at a halloween party, or anything involved with overeating or becoming ill from something they ate. There's a very fine line here, and I absolutely do not blame you for crossing it when it's so hard to see. At the end of the session, I'll post a few links to previous Halloween fics I've done.

#starbucks sunday

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oh-no-my-hand-slipped · 2 years

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Your writing scenarios are a godsend! I’ve written so many little fics that will never see the light of day, but I feel so inspired now! Do you have any for red, raw noses?

Oh, but of course! And I’m glad that my little spin-off ideas have given you inspiration. I wonder if I should make an actual Rolodex for people to sift through…

*takes out my snz rolodex*

But back to the matter at hand. Cursed nose…large nose…magic nose…ah-hah! Raw, red nose. This should be fun:

Person A has been bed-ridden with a head cold for a few days. They have asked for very little, and feel embarrassed when they ask their partner, B, to get them anything. One morning, A wakes up to a painful, sore nose that tinges with every sneeze. With a scarlet face to match their nostrils, they shyly ask B to apply medicine to their nose.

A knight has come down with an awful cold, but has hidden it pretty well so far. They’ve stifled their sneezes, hidden their face with their helmet, and worked through their fatigue. Once evening, while training alone, a sneezing fit leaves their nose raw from the course cloth they are using as a handkerchief. A royal walking by is concerned, and offers them their linen handkerchief. After much protest, the knight accepts the handkerchief. The minute the soft cloth hits their nose, they relax, finally relieved of their pain.

A couple is trying to cuddle, but one of their noses is rubbed raw from either a cold or allergies. Whenever they try to kiss or anything that involves the lower half of the face, they cringe from pain, ruining the moment. Their partner is determined, though - after a few minutes of grimacing, they decide to get a bottle of lotion for their raw nostrils. They rub it on, massaging deep into the other’s sore septum. Somehow, they manage to make the whole thing more sensual than regular flirting…

A scientist - mad or not, your choice - has had the misfortune of coming down with a cold while working on their greatest experiment. Since they need to keep the area sterile, they wear a mask over their face. Not only does each sneeze make it feel like they have a wet washcloth laid on their mouth, but the rough gauze on their sore nose and nostrils is making it hard to concentrate. Time is of the essence, but they can’t stand it for much longer.

#ohnos prompts #snz #snz kink #snzblr #snezblr #snz things #snzario #snez kink #snezario #snz scenario

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blu-archer · 3 years

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Go Home

Right... So, I’m obviously new here. I’ve been posting my work previously on AO3 [Usernames: Blu_Magic or Indigo_Archer] and someone told me that I should think about posting them here as well.. So I am here. Just reposting what I have so far and hopefully whoever sees this enjoys it.

Main Pairing: Jimin/Yoongi

Alternate universe - Hybrids are a thing and magic is real.

Warnings: ??? I really don’t think there is any... like maybe... slight mentions of self esteem issues, if you squint? If that’s a warning?

This is snz based, I haven’t ventured into writing anything else really.

Enjoy it! Hopefully there’s no errors... *Awkward peace signs*

*****

“You look wonderful today.” Taehyung greeted sarcastically as he swirled through the entrance of the staff room, making a beeline for his best friend huddled in the corner away from the other members of staff.

The cat hybrid ignored the comment, letting his chin droop into the palm of his hand. Jimin didn’t need to make himself feel any worse than what he already felt like. He had woken up with a piercing headache and the few off hand sneezes from the day before that he had chalked up to allergies, had definitely not been allergies. Honestly, he wouldn’t have even gone in to work that morning if it hadn’t been for the fact that exam season was rapidly arriving, and he couldn’t just leave his students in the dark. His class was practical based, so leaving it to a substitute was out of the question.

So, there he sat, perched pathetically in his thickest sweater with a face mask and tea while the other staff hovered around in their faculties, discussing how far in the syllabus they were.

He felt awful at not being more of a help towards that particular conversation, but after an unfortunate occurrence earlier involving scolding coffee, a folder of fresh math assignments and an older woman jam packed full of spite and aggression that had left him in a puddle of tears; he had considered it best that he stuck to the shadows. If something important came up then Hoseok would come find him.

Taehyung gave him a pitying smile before helping himself to a seat beside his friend.

Despite not being a teacher at the academy, the witch got away with a lot. Jimin had been amazed to see how quickly Tae had been accepted on the campus just by speaking with staff – starting with the security guards and working his way all the way up to the principal. He seemed to just flash a boxy smile, and everyone just felt compelled to let him do what he wanted. It was almost as if he had them under a spell, which Jimin would believe if only he didn’t know just how much Taehyung unfortunately sucked at using magic. Jimin wasn’t even amazed at how easily his friend had appeared at his work – in a staff only section – without him knowing. It had become almost second nature to just see Taehyung wherever Jimin was.

Jimin was almost envious of how easily everything seemed to come to Tae – almost. He knew the man too well to be blind to the troubles in the witches life. It was very much the same as how Taehyung knew Jimin.

Which was exactly why he had arrived with whatever spiced potion he thought would help the poor calico hybrid, along with a large familiar grey scarf that filled Jimin with both a sense of ease and longing. Jimin coughed into his fist as Tae wrapped the scarf around him, the younger man smiled knowingly as Jimin huddled into it to try and breathe in his boyfriend’s faded minty scent.

“How many classes do you have left?” Taehyung asked, leaning over so that he could pour the potion into the tea which Jimin clutched close to his chest – choosing to remain oblivious to the dread-filled eyes of the poor sniffling hybrid. He had faith in this potion, unlike the others that he’d tried to recreate away from the supervision of Yoongi and Namjoon, he was almost certain that this one would serve as a source of healing. Like 90% certain…. Maybe 85%. “Namjoon told me that Yoongi should be back from that business trip this afternoon, apparently it went well so he’s finishing early.”

Jimin nodded, his lips twisting into a soft smile at the thought of the older man’s return. Yoongi had been gone for almost three months. The only thing that was keeping Jimin sane was the old articles of clothing that the Warlocks scent clung too, and the video calls that they had worked in every second or third day. Maybe it was his feline genes kicking in, but Jimin really despised the distance. He would much prefer being able to touch and cuddle up to his boyfriend while the elder would pet him or tell him about his day or.. well anything. Anything with Yoongi was better than not being with him.

“I have my last class in half an hour.” Jimin breathed heavily.

His nose had become completely useless after the first two hours of being awake and had yet to show improvement. He tried not to think about the mess of a person he had been throughout the day. Even his students, as hard working and determined to do their best as they were – had encouraged him to sit on the side lines and not join them in the dance session like he usually would.

“Shouldn’t you be with Namjoon? I thought that mentoring those two meant that you are supposed to be with at least one of them during working hours.”

“Don’t be a grouch.” Tae pouted playfully, tossing an arm over Jimin’s shoulders, and carefully reaching up to scratch behind the calico’s ears. “Namjoon had to guest lecture an extra class at the university, so he let me go. Why don’t we head back to my place when you’re done? Jungkook and Hoseok won’t mind. Jungkook has actually missed seeing you, I don’t think he knows as many other hybrids as he claims. If you want to go now I can ask Hobi to cover your class?”

Jimin pursed his lips, gingerly swirling his tea that had taken on an odd vermillion shade. He really did want to leave, but the other two contemporary instructors either had left already or had a conflicting schedule. Yet the more he thought about it, the more he wished that he hadn’t even left his bed. He could have slept the whole day and then maybe he would have felt better by the time Yoongi got back.

“Hoseok teaches a different style, Tae.” Jimin murmured, leaning into the witches soft scratches with a sigh. “And he has his own classes to go through.”

“His class ends in twenty minutes. Exam preparations have actually opened up his schedule at the school a bit. He gets home earlier with the disadvantage of being buried in paperwork. Honestly, I don’t know why either of you think that teaching is fun, the homework is no joke.”

Jimin chuckled only to break off into a hoarse cough that left him wincing. He felt Tae’s hand move from his fluffy ears to his back, calmly rubbing circles into the knitted material of his clothes.

“I’m going to ask him to take your class. It can’t be that difficult, maybe the fact that he has a different technique and specialty will help your students find their own self-expression or whatever you guys call it.” Taehyung said, deciding to not give Jimin a choice as he whipped out his phone to fire off a message to his older boyfriend. “Have you taken anything today?”

“Pain killers and cough drops.” Jimin mumbled, already feeling the witches gaze pierce through him with annoyed concern. “I couldn’t take anything else. It makes me too drowsy and I will not let this cold stoop me to a level of taking catnaps during class.”

Taehyung hummed. His hand that wasn’t rubbing against Jimin was pushing the tea concoction closer to his face – pulling the face mask to sit below his chin. If he was worried about the pink hues that Jimin new stained his nose and cheeks, Taehyung didn’t mention it.

“Drink this and when we get to my place then we can put some proper medicine in you. We bought a whole bunch of stuff a couple weeks back when Jungkook had his bi-annual ‘exam session flu’ as he calls it, so we have everything you need.”

Jimin sipped the tea with a nod, accepting his fate before immediately regretting it as he choked on the liquid. A few other staff members shot him some sharp looks that he couldn’t fault – if he was them he would want to avoid anyone sick as much as possible as well, especially at such an important time of the year. But he had no control over this. What had once been a moderately decent cup of tea was now a thick, syrupy fluid that tasted oddly like melting rubber and pears.

Jimin pushed the cup into Taehyung so that he could smother his coughing into his hands, failing to stifle how thick and grating it sounded. His face was a blaze and he wrapped his tail around his waist while he panted, far too short of breath.

Tae frowned and took his own sip of the drink, moving quickly to spit it back out into the cup. “Damn it, I thought I had it this time.”

“Stop - trying to kill me.” Jimin whined, only half amused as he fixed his mask back over his face.

Feeling like enough time had been wasted, Taehyung pulled the hybrid to his feet.

“Let’s just go find Hobi, it will be quicker than him checking his messages.” His face still contorted in a mixture of disgust and disappoint as he led Jimin along to where Hoseok held his classes.

They disposed of the drink as soon as they could and avoided as many people as possible. Jimin preferred to try limit the amount of people he came into contact with, more out of fear of embarrassing himself more than he had already, so they had taken the chillier outdoors route to the dance studios. Tae didn’t listen to any of the weak excuses that Jimin had presented and kept mumbling on about all the nice relaxing things they could do as soon as they got back to the apartment. Jimin wasn’t strong enough to fight the promises of warm store-bought hot chocolate [that had no special additions from Tae], soup and the prospect of animations with cuddles.

Hoseok’s class was technically still in session when Tae pulled Jimin into the studio room. Thankfully the senior dancers seemed to be doing their own cool off routines and Hoseok was hovering off to the side on his phone when he saw them.

“Hey, I just saw your message now.” Hoseok bounded over to greet Tae with a chaste kiss. His face morphed into one of disgust when he had impulsively licked his lips. “What is that taste?”

Tae waved his hand with a deep sigh. “I almost poisoned Minnie again. Sorry to just come in, I really wanted to see if you could take his class. He hasn’t taken any medication, so I want to get him home.”

“Of course.” Hoseok pulled Jimin into a tight hug that had the hybrid sinking into his embrace. “Ah, Min. I can’t believe Taetae tried to poison you again. How have you survived so long?”

He could vaguely hear some of the students commenting on it and Hoseok merely lifted Jimin into his arms, letting the smaller man link his legs around his waist before leading Tae out into the hallway. Jimin pushed his head closer into the elders neck, hovering over where the scent gland should have been.

Out of their weird friend group Hoseok was the only one that was human, the rest being a mix of hybrids or witches and warlocks, but Jimin had always found that besides Yoongi and Jungkook – Hoseok had the most calming scent and embrace. In fact, there were many times when Jimin preferred Hoseok to Jungkook. The bunny hybrid was often a bit too active and always smelled of all the different people he had befriended in his uni classes.

“I thought it was weird that I didn’t see you at the meeting this morning.” Hoseok murmured gently, letting Jimin rub his nose into his shoulder and the crook of his neck. He smiled at his boyfriend as Tae reached to pet Jimin’s hair tenderly. “You should have told me sooner, Kookie could have come and fetched you. He only had a morning class today.”

Jimin tightened his hold for a second before pushing away. Hoseok set him down, swiftly running a hand over the hybrids forehead and then through his hair. He didn’t have a fever at least. Jimin could have easily stayed in Hoseok’s arms but he knew the elder must be tired. It wasn’t fair to fall asleep on him or make him use up his strength.

“When is the class?”

“It’s at three.” Jimin answered, shying away with regret. There wasn’t much of a time gap for Hoseok to take a break, but the other dancer didn’t seem to mind.

“Cool, its seniors right? They should all be working on their own routines and such, shouldn’t be too difficult to give some pointers. I’ve watched you enough to know what to talk about.”

“Are you sure? I’m sure I can push through. You must be tired.” Jimin pouted and Taehyung chuckled, pulling him back into a hug.

“Hobi won’t mind. He’s secretly always wanted your class, they’re more behaved. Plus, you don’t know when Yoongi will arrive. It would be easier to fetch you from our place.”

“Yoongi is coming home today?” Hoseok grinned brightly, not denying the fact of wanting to steal Jimin’s class. “Go Jimin. Go cuddle my precious little bunny and rest up for your man. I’m sure you must both be excited.”

It hadn’t even sunk in for Jimin that he would be seeing his boyfriend again – almost two weeks earlier than they had originally planned. A small piece of the heaviness that had made a home in his chest seemed to dissipate at the thought of going to sleep beside his own personal warlock. Jimin hadn’t even truly acknowledged how much he had missed the elder, preferring to bury himself in his work and spending more time watching old anime that he had forgotten about.

He may have still had a pounding headache, and his chest, throat and sinuses were definitely going to give him troubles for days with how much his symptoms had progressed in such a small amount of time, but at least the momentary gap in is life will be filled again.

“I just want to wake up next to him again.” Jimin admitted, his voice dipping low enough for his voice to crack.

He cleared his throat and gave a tight chuckle, looking away from his friends sympathetic eyes. Neither of them had really had to experience being away from each other, it helped that there was three of them in their relationship. Perhaps that’s why Jimin hadn’t spent as much time with them recently as he usually did. The atmosphere of bonds and love may have been something that he was subconsciously avoiding.

“You will, Minnie.” Tae murmured softly, his fingers finding their way back to Jimin’s tri-coloured ears. “Let’s get you some medicine first. Don’t want this to linger like it usually does.”

Hoseok gave Jimin a tight hug before he pressed a goodbye kiss to Tae’s cheek – avoiding having to taste the contaminated tea still on the witches lips. Taehyung had to tug Jimin away at first, the hybrid was determined to make sure that Hoseok truly was okay and equipped to handle his class, but eventually the pair had gotten Jimin to leave the building.

It hadn’t taken him long to get settled in the Jeon-Jung-Kim apartment.

Either Tae or Hobi must have texted in advance because Jungkook had met them at the door with his largest, warmest hoodie and a tall mug of hot chocolate ready to take control of the situation. While Taehyung had finished off the soup that Jungkook had started and gathered medication, Jungkook had set Jimin down in their small lounge which he had transformed into some sort of fluffy wonderland and managed to pull the huge hoodie over the smaller man’s head.

After sipping at least half of the hot chocolate Jimin had sunk right into the soft blankets and pillows with a deep purring sigh, allowing himself to just doze lazily while the other two prepared for their afternoon in a rushed silence.

It seemed like only a few minutes had passed when Jungkook shook him lightly from the slumber he had slipped into and gestured for him to sit up in order to place the steaming bowl of vegetable soup in his lap. Jimin had pawed at his eyes and nose lethargically before leaning against the younger hybrid. Whatever sleep he had gotten hadn’t exactly helped. His head felt heavier than before and there was an irritating itch that had embedded itself in his sinuses.

One of Jungkook’s floppy black ears kept brushing against Jimin’s cheek while he ate, despite being comforted with the contact Jimin could tell that between that and the steam from the soup, he wasn’t going to be able to sniffle back the itch for long. After suffering through a few bites of food and numerous amounts of nose swipes, Jungkook moved to find a film in his room. Jimin took the opportunity to try relieving himself of some of the problems that were becoming somewhat problematic.

“Tae-ah” Jimin ran a sleeved wrist under his nose as he set down the soup bowl on the small portion of floor visible beneath all of the blankets that Jungkook had dragged out. “Can y-you get some ti-hih-tissues.”

Taehyung didn’t reply, although a box of tissues levitated over to Jimin from the kitchen, dropping almost directly into his soup. Jimin scrambled to try catch it with his breath hitching teasingly as he did. It was infuriating to be crumbling into a mess, especially with company. He knew that his friends didn’t care about how disgusting he may currently be, but Jimin despised that he wasn’t able to be in control of his symptoms. He pressed his wrist to his nose hard, trying to stave off the inevitable at least until he got the tissue box open. Unfortunately, it didn’t quite work like that.

Jimin’s breath stuttered off into a harsh, wet sneeze – which was quickly followed by two, three, four more. It left him coughing into his fist, sitting miserably and too tired and embarrassed to move his hands from his face. He could only cringe at the mess on his hands and upper lip.

“Bless you.” Tae called, only for it to be the trigger of the next flurry of sneezes being torn from Jimin’s throat.

“That sounds awful.” Jungkook winced sympathetically as he returned with what Jimin assumed was Finding Nemo – always the first to start in an animation marathon.

Jimin wanted to curl up in a ball and hide, his face burned even though the other two seemed to just move on with life. The bunny called out to Taehyung to organise the movie while he shot Jimin a soft smile and tore open the box the elder had been struggling with. He pulled out a few tissues and handed them to Jimin, looking away to make a spot more comfortable for himself while Jimin tried to clean himself up.

Tae appeared from the kitchen, a dark robe adorned him as he dropped some water and pills beside Jimin then moved to put the movie in. He sent a tired look back at Jungkook when he saw the title but didn’t argue at the choice. The robe made Jimin nervous about what exactly Taehyung was getting up to and whether Jimin was going to have another potion poisoning him soon, but he didn’t have the energy to put in any complaints.

“Are you going to eat some more?” Jungkook asked, pressing against Jimin’s side. “You barely got halfway.”

“I – Hih’eitiishhew, eheHISHiew… Argh.” Jimin reached to trade his tissues for new ones, sniffling and gradually losing any pride and dignity he had left. He shook his head and pressed the tissues to his nose, letting the old ones fall to his lap. “‘Not hungry. Just tired.”

“Okay…” Neither Jungkook nor Taehyung were too happy about the food being taken back to the kitchen but they weren’t going to force the cat hybrid to eat anything when he didn’t feel well, not after the last time Namjoon and Jin had done that and had resulted in Jimin throwing up on Hobi. Which of course had caused an unfortunate cycle that no one wanted to ever remember. “Come here and lay with me then.”

Jimin finished blowing his nose, not entirely satisfied with how it was left feeling itchy and raw, then he swallowed the pills without hesitation. He climbed into Jungkook’s side, purring instantly as the bunny preened and scented him until he was numb – being doused in calming pheromones and affection. Taehyung lay behind him after cleaning up and pressing play on the movie, running his one hand through Jimin’s hair and casually stroking the end of the hybrid’s flicking tail with the other. Jimin wasn’t able to focus on the film at all, slipping in and out of a dazed state while the other pair murmured to each other. There were a few moments when they all had to shift for Jimin to collect tissues or when he broke out into rough fits of coughing that usually ended with him snuggled into Jungkook’s neck, but most of the time they had spent bundled comfortably keeping movement to a minimum in case any of them fell asleep.

Jimin couldn’t recall the exact moment he had fallen asleep, but he did remember waking up briefly when Taehyung had left the cuddle pit to join someone else in the house. Vaguely he made out that Hoseok had probably arrived home, if the credits running along the screen were anything to go by then the dancer had probably just finished with Jimin’s class. Jungkook was snoring deeply beside him with his arms pinning Jimin to his chest, so Jimin couldn’t push himself upright like his weary and sick muddled mind had originally planned. When he heard Hoseok speak again he made a noise in his throat, wanting to gain attention to ask about his students but only resulted in coughing into Jungkook’s shoulder. Almost immediately fingers danced through his hair, scratching pleasurably at his ears before resting on his cheek with a sharp tsk.

“Go back to sleep, Minnie. Just for a little longer, ‘kay?”

There was something so soothing about how the human had reacted to him that Jimin didn’t fight Hoseok’s smooth words, couldn’t fight them as his eyes were lulled closed, letting himself be petted back into darkness.

Jimin blinked himself awake. It was colder. His brows furrowed in confusion at how dark the room had gotten. The places where Tae and Kook had lain were vacant. Padding the empty spaces Jimin could tell they had been gone a while.

His chest ached at the thought of them leaving him, but he pushed the thought aside- biting down on his lip to divert whatever pained him to be physical and more manageable. He could hear faint laughter from deeper into the apartment, the clinking of cutlery and plates. It must have been late already.

Jimin coughed tightly into his arm before rolling over to where Jungkook had been. He felt warm and tight, and he ached in a way that made him seem hollow but at least his headache had disappeared. He breathed as deeply as he could in an attempt to grasp at Jungkook’s soft floral scent, failing to smell anything more than a slight wisp of what should have been there. Being sick was so annoying.

Jimin was used to being reliant on scent, relishing in how different scents made him emote different feelings. Now he was left to just experience a bland, empty world.

He sat up, suddenly hating the soft fabric of blankets under his fingertips. He ripped off Jungkook’s hoodie, almost doing the same to the scarf Taehyung had brought him earlier , the paused. Instead, he brought it up to cover the bottom half his face. It wasn’t as soft as everything else since it was worn with age, but it brought him a sense of ease. A sense of home.

Hoseok’s loud, contagious laughter sounded through the apartment again and Jimin couldn’t keep himself from standing and wondering to where it was coming from. He moved passed the kitchen and down into the hallway, the guest rooms and study were empty, but a light shown dimly towards the end of the passage. As he got closer to the master bedroom he could hear a number of familiar voices speaking over each other excitedly. Namjoon and Jin must have arrived while he was asleep. His stomach twisted a bit at his previous thoughts that his friends had just left him for nothing. Of course, if they had other company they should be with them and not babysitting him.

He was indecisive to join at first before deciding that the only reason they weren’t with him was probably because he was asleep , so he moved to push open the door when he froze, hovering in the hallway just outside the door. Jimin pressed the scarf to his nose then pulled away and tried to sniff at the air. It was difficult but he could make out the sharp earthy mint that lingered.

His throat grew tight and his blood pulsed in his ears at the prospect of what waited for him in that room. He took a step back, running his hands through his sleep tussled hair. He no doubt looked awful - he knew that he did. No one looks attractive after spending their day gradually feeling more and more like a walking plague ad. Not to mention he probably smelled. No, he definitely smelled, he had danced with 5 different classes that morning and didn’t take his usual immediate shower when arriving home, because he hadn’t arrived at home. He couldn’t walk in like this, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to step away again. Now that he had had that taste and awareness of the fresh mint aroma he couldn’t stop it from amplifying despite not being able to smell anything else.

Jimin took a shaky breath, leaning his back against the wall opposite the door. The heat had bubbled up inside of him and a jittery smile danced on his lips. From inside the room he could hear Jungkook mumbling something, only catching his own name and the words ‘awake’ and ‘next dose’.

“I’ll get it.”

Jimin held his breath at the sound of the familiar deep dialect. Then that heat from before turned cold. He couldn’t be seen like this, what was he thinking? He at least had to wash up. He wasn’t ready. He had to –

“Jimin?”

Jimin looked up only to feel his stomach flip nervously at the deep brown eyes that brightened at the sight of him.

Yoongi.

He looked just like he had when he had left those months ago. His dark hair swept forward into his face and his fair skin shining with that unearthly glow of magic. Perhaps he looked a bit sharper, a bit more real. Jimin couldn’t stop staring at him, even when his heart beat rapidly against his chest and his cheeks flamed. He hadn’t even realised he was shaking until Yoongi reached out for him, bracing the hybrid with firm hands. Jimin croaked out a gasp and sunk into Yoongi’s arms – his previous concerns dissipated as Yoongi embraced him and pressed his lips to Jimin’s temple. Soft praises were whispered against Jimin’s skin that made him dig his nails into Yoongi’s chest – his nails subconsciously transforming to claws to gain a better grip.

How was this real? How was Yoongi even real? What had Jimin done in his life to deserve someone like the warlock that held him tight, as if he was just as scared to let Jimin go as Jimin was to step away from him. Jimin clung harder.

The world was suddenly too loud – deafening. His breath kept catching in his throat and he was sure that he had started coughing, but he couldn’t quite recall. All of his actions were blurring together.

“Shhh don’t cry, love.” Yoongi stroked Jimin’s neck tenderly. Earning another whine out of the hybrid. “Please don’t cry.”

Was he crying? Jimin rubbed his face against Yoongi’s neck, pulling away momentarily to see that – yes, he was in fact crying. For what, he was unsure, but no matter how much he sniffled and bit at his lips it didn’t seem like he was going to stop soon.

“Is everything okay?” Hoseok peeked around the door that Yoongi had half closed in his rush to leave the room. The dancer’s eyes widened at Jimin’s sobs, every so often broken by a grating cough. Hobi wouldn’t be surprised if Jimin woke up the next day without a voice.

“He – he feels a bit warm.” Yoongi answered rationally, but a voice crack betrayed his emotions.

The warlock felt close to tears himself.

“I’ll go fetch you some water.”

Neither of them argued, and Yoongi didn’t even glance up at the now silent room. He knew that their friends were probably watching with concern, but he didn’t want them near Jimin right now. Just him. Only him.

Yoongi had underestimated how difficult it was going to be when he had agreed to take the job in the UK. He had missed Jimin with every fibre of his being and struggled to communicate with him through electronic devices. He usually hated relying on the manmade crafts, but his magic was being used in his task and had left him practically depleted after each day. Even now he could tell how weak his job had made him. He’d surely be drained for a few days still – perhaps even a week. Yet nothing made him feel more powerless than having his beautiful, charming, strong calico hybrid brought to fevered tears in his arms. It made him regret ever choosing to leave, no matter how much his client had needed him – he and Jimin needed each other more.

“Shh love.” He felt Jimin lean into him completely and Yoongi took his weight, using the wall as support to gradually sink them both to the floor. He hugged the smaller man close with one arm and used his free hand to wipe at the tears staining the hybrids cheeks. “You must be feeling awful, Minmin.”

Jimin shook his head and burrowed deeper into Yoongi’s neck, mumbling something inaudible.

“What was that?”

Jimin pulled away, his breath hitching as he tried to control his tears. “ ‘missed you.” He ran his sweater-covered wrist under his nose which had been running, much to Jimin’s disgust and horror. “ ‘missed you so much, and now you’re here and I’m gross and … you’re perfect.”

Yoongi pressed a kiss just below each of Jimin’s eyes, then his jaw and then finally – despite the noise of protest from his boyfriend – to the hybrids lips. He kisses were salty, but Yoongi didn’t care. Jimin’s tears had almost rolled to a stop, but it pained him to imagine that Jimin’s tears were partially due to insecurities. Yoongi had thought that they had moved past this in their relationship already, but he should never have been so quick to dismiss it.

“You will never be gross, okay? I am nowhere near perfect compared to you, and being here with you - no matter what state of health you’re in, makes me so happy, Min. I cannot even begin to describe what these months with not being near you have felt like and I would rather I lose my limbs than have to go through that again.” Yoongi pushed the dark sweaty locks of Jimin’s hair back from his face as he did a once over of his face. Taking in the swollen eyes and bright red nose, then moving to those familiar plush lips that looked puffier than usual – no doubt Jimin had been biting them. “I don’t want you to ever think that I wouldn’t be elated to see you every second of every day, okay?”

Jimin nodded. A small smile breaking out on his face. Yoongi took that as a sign to run his hands down to the hybrids sides and immediately the smile widened into a hoarse laughter as Jimin tried to wiggle away from Yoongi’s reach. He only stopped when a small bout a coughing broke the giggles, thankfully not as harsh as before but still worrying to Yoongi.

“Hey.” They both looked up to see Hoseok standing with a clear glass of water, smiling at them as he gave it to Jimin. “Sorry, I didn’t want to interrupt. Do you two want to stay the night? I can set up the guest bedroom if you want?”

It was Yoongi who shook his head first, although Jimin wasn’t far behind him. “I think it would be best if we head home. I want to make sure Jimin is comfortable. Thank you though and thank you for giving us some time.”

Hoseok grinned knowingly, somehow always being the wisest out of the lot. “I’ll get Jungkook or Jin to pack you guys up some food to take with you, since it’s getting late.”

He didn’t wait for a reply merely turning to push open the bedroom door fully, revealing Namjoon and Jin sitting on the bed laughing lightly at the pair huddled on the floor close to the entrance. Jungkook had an arm over Taehyung’s shoulders while the witch had tears staining his cheeks with blood shot eyes.

“Tae why are you crying?” Hoseok questioned with startled amusement.

The witch sniffed and rubbed at his face with an embarrassed chuckle, glancing around at where Yoongi and Jimin watched him from with wide, somewhat bemused eyes.

“It’s nothing. I got caught up in it, is all.” He explained sheepishly, earning a full round of amused chuckles.

“He started almost as soon as you left.” Jungkook added, directing his gaze to Hobi.

Hoseok sighed. He placed his hands on his hips and shook his head, although he supposed there was something sympathetically charming about it. “I’m dating literally toddlers.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes at his apprentice, although he couldn’t blame him. He had come close to crying as well. Yoongi moved to adjust Jimin onto his lap, relishing in the deep purr that came from Jimin even before Yoongi pressed his hand to the base of the hybrids tail. Usually he didn’t pet Jimin’s tail in public, since it generally always led to something more, but he knew the younger loved when he did it, so he was making an exception.

“Let’s go home.” Yoongi murmured, wiping at the others’ cheeks before deciding to just leave his hand cupping Jimin’s warm face. “I am one hundred percent okay with closing my practice to spend the rest of this week with you, get you better.”

“I have school.” Jimin replied with a pout. Whether it was due to having to go to work or the fact that Yoongi was implying that he wouldn’t be going to work, he wasn’t sure.

“You have a cold.” Yoongi corrected. “And it will only get worse if you don’t take the time off now. Plus, we can catch up. Its deserved.”

Jimin didn’t have it in him to fight it, not after how tired his crying had made him and especially since all he wanted was to spend time with Yoongi.

“I’ll get someone to stand in for you.” Hoseok promised. Not wanted to give Jimin a chance to even deny Yoongi.

It appeared a plan was being formed, but Jimin zoned out of the moving of bodies and their soft voices, only choosing to focus on Yoongi’s scent, his breathing, his warmth, his touch. It was intoxicating.

Jimin barely even recalled being lifted up and carried outside to the car, having a thick blanket from Jungkook’s monstrosity being wrapped around him to protect him from the icy weather. He definitely wasn’t conscious when Yoongi drove them back to their shared cottage along the coastal edge, or when he was carried inside and surrounded by all of his favourite soft and scented pieces of clothing and blankets. Despite not being completely aware, Jimin’s dreams were swamped with the aroma of mint and the gentle strokes of a large, warm hand from the base of his tail all the way up to his twitching cat ears, easing any fatigue or pains that he may have had.

All in all, it was a pretty magnificent end to a very long and exhausting day, and Jimin couldn’t have been happier.

#bts sickfic #hybrid jimin #warlock yoongi #mild angst #like very mild #snz #dancer teacher jimin #dance teacher hoseok #tae #happy ending #colds #fever #alternate universe #fanfiction #kpop

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leapyearkisses · 3 years

Text

Director’s Cut Commentary - Orbs Are Bad News Part 2

Second part of me blathering my thoughts all over this old story per the request of a very nice anon! I am still sleep-deprived, so yay~ Sorry, this commentary is probably way less interesting, since this part is just the sexy stuff, but if you have any particular questions, please send me another ask!

Happy to do any of my stories or just answer asks, whatever. I clearly enjoy reading myself talk XD

Comments in bold below the cut! This part is NSFW. Well, it’s all kinky but there’s also sex.

I forgot to mention this in Part 1, but the title of this story is because the homebrew campaign I ran for my friends involved magical evil crystal orbs. Hence they are bad news.

"Are you ever going to stop sneezing?" Remembrance asked. At the same time, Cordes said, "One thousand blessings, Llewellyn, one for each." The two of them were several yards ahead on the road, and only Cordes was looking back over his shoulder. Right now, the four party members were the only travelers on this particular stretch, although as they got closer to civilization, they'd started to pass the odd wanderer, farmers with wagons, even a merchant or two. The woods here were broken up periodically by stretches of arable land, clear-cut several decades ago and now waving with wheat, flax, or various vegetable leaves. The fields were golden in the late sun. Their shadows stretched behind them like taffy, rippling on the cobblestones. The day was vanishing quickly, and Gerrit could sense his companions' impatience to move on even as he stopped again himself, drawing out his handkerchief in a now very familiar motion.

Stick your people in a world. That’s my advice. Don’t have them just floating around in a no man’s land of generic scenery. (Also why I like period/historical snzarios and fantasy stuff, because reading about plain people in an apartment somewhere is boring to me.)

Llewellyn, for his part, could not answer them, face buried in his elbow as he ducked with another reluctant outburst. "Hahktschiu! Hahh- happtsch!"

"Bless," said Gerrit, and he stepped in front of the elf to shield him marginally from view. He laid one warm hand on the back of Llewellyn's neck and lifted the handkerchief with the other, capturing the next sneeze in the flannel folds. He settled his fingers firmly around Llewellyn's nose.

This was an arrangement that had been born out of necessity three days ago when the party had raided a bandit camp's plundered stores. Along with a good stash of gold and gems, they'd found a blue crystal orb, cursed perhaps, that had summarily become attached to both of Llewellyn's hands, rendering the sorcerer unable to do most anything... including take care of his cold on his own.

On the last episode of Orbs Are Bad News...

Llewellyn blew his nose into the handkerchief, wetting the cloth and dampening Gerrit's fingers through it. Originally quite opposed to such a display outside of the most private circumstances, the elf had been forced to put his pride aside and let Gerrit help him. His fever had abated the previous day, but the frequency of his sneezing had increased, as if his body was insistent now on ridding itself of whatever illness remained. It was a horrific prospect to Llewellyn to catch the resulting mess every time in the sleeve of his robes... so he suffered Gerrit to hold the handkerchief, even though they were walking along the road where any might see them.

Despite some initial teasing, Remembrance and Cordes had quickly grown accustomed to the practice and now cared not at all, except to complain. "We're going to have to camp again," grumbled Remembrance. "Five miles from Veigh and we're going to be stuck without a bath!"

Is five miles a realistic figure here? No fucking clue! I frequently engage in excessive and specific research for my stories, but I didn’t look up how long one might hike for in D&D. Oh well.

"Is there anything I could do for you?" Cordes asked, somewhat exasperated. The priest had made several herbal concoctions for Llewellyn over the past few days, but none had helped the elf's nose much. Cordes's specialty was unfortunately not the curing of disease but the mending of bones and flesh.

I will take any opportunity to make up an excuse as to why the snz cannot be contained. You’re welcome lol

"Ndo," Llewellyn growled, as fed up as the rest of them. "I'm beyond heh- help. Hngtschiu!"

"Bless you, arimelda," said Gerrit, trying to keep his voice even. He shifted the handkerchief so that Llewellyn could have a drier spot, trying to ignore a glimpse of slickness on the elf's face. "Remembrance, Cordes, why don't the two of you go on ahead? Find an inn, get a room, take a bath, whatever you want. It might be prudent also to send a message ahead to the Mages Guild about the orb. Will you do that? Llewellyn and I will join you when we arrive."

An elvish word appears! I researched this but not walking.

Cordes nodded. "Yes, I'll draft a letter as soon as- Hey!" Remembrance had grabbed his arm and was rushing ahead already.

"Let's go, man!" she said. "Everyone loves a damn priest; you're my ticket to a good room, so may your god help you if you dawdle." Her pointed tail swished as she practically jogged down the road. Cordes spluttered but could no more stand up to her as to a tornado, so off they went. It was a remarkably short time before the two of them were out of earshot, disappearing around a bend.

And again, removed so that the main characters can bang, lol.

Gerrit sighed but turned his attention back to Llewellyn, who was blowing his nose again. The handkerchief was running out of clean corners this late in the day, but the elf leaned back this time when he was finished. "All set?" Gerrit asked.

"Yes." Llewellyn rubbed his eyes on his upper arm, wiping away a spare tear from the effort. "...My apologies." He cleared his throat, refusing to meet Gerrit's gaze. "We may arrive after dark."

"You're ill," said Gerrit, trying to fold the flannel in a way as to avoid his pocket getting wet. "We'd move faster if you let me carry y-"

"No."

"Then I don't mind taking a more leisurely pace." Gerrit smiled. Even after everything, Llewellyn was stubborn. Honestly, since they weren't really in a rush, he didn't really care when they reached Veigh; they'd only detoured here to try and remove the orb. If Llewellyn, the most inconvenienced, didn't want to give up his pride and piggyback on... well, Gerrit found his noble hauteur inexplicably cute.

Me too, buddy. Don’t worry, you can carry your elf later.

He also wasn't in a particular hurry because it was awfully uncomfortable to make any sort of time with his arousal pressed flush to his thigh.

A reminder that sex is usually going to be involved in my stories. The snz is not enough by itself.

Llewellyn coughed into his elbow and then started walking again. Gerrit had pulled back his hood for him in the morning and braided his hair, and the crown of plaits caught the afternoon sunlight like an obsidian. Gerrit tried not to let his eyes linger on the sorcerer's pale nape. Or any other part of him. He and Llewellyn had been travelling together for close to three years, working for their current patron in the capital, and in that time Gerrit had felt himself growing closer to the elf. Wanting to be closer, anyway.

Llewellyn shot a glance at him and caught him looking. Gerrit flushed and turned his gaze back ahead to the road.

"You've been very accommodating during all of this," the elf said, tone carefully neutral.

Gerrit shrugged. "It doesn't bear mentioning. We're comrades."

"Comrades," Llewellyn repeated, an edge to his voice that Gerrit couldn't quite place. "Is that all it is?" He kicked a stick that had fallen to the cobblestones, sending it into the brush. Somewhere to the right, bumblebees droned over a meadow.

Llewellyn is kind of a asshole and not super great at communicating with any level of affection, although he does get better.

Gerrit swallowed. "Yes? You and I, we've helped each other before. I consider you to be a steadfast companion." Eyes on the road. Eyes on the dappled play of shadowed leaves and light on the ground. "Why do you ask?"

"So shy," Llewellyn exclaimed, a tad mockingly. "You've never been shy about taking me to bed, Gerrit." Despite his short height, the elf seemed to find it easy to look down his nose at the much taller fighter. "Has something changed?"

Height difference is also personally sacred to me.

"Changed?" Eyes on the road.

Llewellyn stopped walking. "You called me 'arimelda.' 'Dearest.' Did you think I wouldn't hear you over my sneezing?" He couldn't cross his arms with his hands trapped by the orb, but the set of his jaw was determined and his firm brows were arched. "I wasn't so distracted then as you seem to have thought."

Gerrit shoved his hands in his pockets. He stopped walking but didn't turn. "Apparently not," he muttered. "Look, we can set it aside. Doesn't have to mean anything – doesn't have to change anything. I know a highborn elf like you wouldn't consider an official relationship with a half-elven bastard, and I've known that from the start. For my whole life. So... I care about you. But it can just be as comrades, or whatever you want it to be." Llewellyn was quiet, and after a long minute, Gerrit did turn on his heel, desperate to know what kind of reaction he'd provoked.

The angst of the half-elven existence! Gerrit is a very typical half-elf in terms of D&D characterization, lol. Despite that, I do find these different-lifestyle pairings interesting, so they keep happening, cliche or not. There is a definite pathos in the elf/human relationship because of the different lifespans, of course - most famously depicted through Arwen and Aragorn, probably, although he’s not the exactly typical human. Anyway, it kind of varies how people like to determine elven and half-elven lifespans in D&D depending on the PHB and your DM’s weary forbearance lol, but Gerrit and Llewellyn will expect to live similar lengths because I’m a sap.

He saw Llewellyn standing with his eyes closed and head titled back, lips parted. The elf's nostrils flared as he gasped.

"Are you going to sneeze again??" Gerrit asked. He threw up his hands, then went for his handkerchief once more. They did have an arrangement.

He strode back over to Llewellyn's side and tucked the cloth around his nose again, thumb and forefinger just resting on the elf's nostrils. He started to rub Llewellyn's back. "You have the worst timing, you know? Here I am, spilling my heart to you and everything."

I laughed writing this part, too. You can’t always let things just be angst.

"Sh-hhuh-t up, I jh- just nih-" Llewellyn gasped again and gave in; he had no other choice. "Hahktscht!" He moaned and pressed closer into the handkerchief, thick congestion only aggravating the itch that remained inside. "Hkktschtt! Hngtscht! Hahh- ah-- ankcxttschiu!"

That sure is a bunch of letters crammed together!

"Easy... it's okay." Gerrit massaged Llewellyn’s nose, tried to soothe the irritation. He guided Llewellyn to the side of the road, and, in a moment of calm, settled him to sit on the grassy bank. He followed, kneeling at the elf's side. Llewellyn was tearing up again and his nose was twitching against the pads of Gerrit's fingers. Gerrit felt electric all over. He found himself wishing the handkerchief was gone so that he might touch the soft, heated skin of Llewellyn's septum, coax the elf to relax and loose his tension, sneeze into Gerrit's palm. The mess didn't bother him; none of it bothered him. He was supremely unbothered. His cock was almost painfully hard.

It took several more minutes punctuated with more urgent expulsions before Llewellyn seemed to trust himself to speak. His eyes were wet with unshed tears, eyelids tender and reddened. His nose was brightly ruddy, running to chapped. He had to take a shaky breath, collecting his thoughts. "Gerrit."

I’m a very visual writer. This kink is extremely visually-based for me. I wish I could draw as well as I want to so I could depict these scenes how I imagine them, but eh.

"Yes?" Gerrit lowered the handkerchief, gently pinching as he did to clear any lingering moisture. He wasn't ready to hear a rejection, nor did he feel particularly ready for a lecture or a tirade or even a logical exploration of why a relationship was a bad idea. He wanted, if possible, to keep walking to Veigh, side by side, listening to the bees and dragonflies and songbirds settling in for the evening, feeling the light breeze on his face, replete with the scents of summer.

"Kiss me."

Gerrit blinked, mental caravan bunching to a halt. "What?"

i am so funny omg

Llewellyn nudged him in the chest with the orb. "Kiss me. You're all worked up." He cleared his throat. "And judging by the state of you, you're not put off by my cold. So?" He tilted his head to the side, gently, closed his eyes. "I want you to kiss me."

An example of the B character not really forcing the admitting of the fetish but just kind of not caring. That is also okay, and I think it’s normal. People don’t just admit to all their kinks immediately upon entering a relationship.

Baffled, but feeling as though maybe all was not lost, Gerrit obliged, pressing their lips together. His own eyes slid closed and he cupped Llewellyn's cheek, deepening the kiss, touching their tongues together, trying to convey how he felt. Whatever had changed. The kiss lasted for too short a time; Llewellyn broke away to breathe, eyes half-lidded, but he didn't lean away.

I’ve never kissed anyone, but I consume media. I feel like I am pretty good at depicting things regardless of experience.

"I'm not going to dismiss you out of hand," he said. "You or your feelings. But I would ask for some time to think." He looked up through his lashes. "Are you feeling better?"

Another thing I like in romance, even in kink short stories like this, is a more realistic portrayal of the confession than just “It was obviously meant to be~”

Gerrit could feel his pulse in every extremity. "Not really," he managed, and he kissed Llewellyn again, this time sliding one hand under the elf's head and one at his hip and pressing him back to lay in the grass. He moaned in his throat as Llewellyn kissed back, and when they had to break for breath, he started to kiss at Llewellyn's forehead, jaw, throat, wherever he could touch skin. His hands roamed over the elf's body, smoothing over hip and thigh and belly until he could start to undo the buttons on Llewellyn's close-cut robes.

"Gerrit," gasped Llewellyn. He moved the orb between them, jamming it into Gerrit's sternum. "You are not going to sleep with me on the side of the damn road! Get ahold of yourself!"

He has standards!

Gerrit growled at the quick pain in his chest, then shook his head and leaned back. He flushed deeply and pulled his hands away. "Oh. Oh, fuck, sorry. I-"

"Pick me up." Llewellyn lifted his arms.

"What??" Gerrit's brain was having a hard time keeping up at the moment, all of his blood being elsewhere.

"There was a thicker copse of trees back about thirty feet, on the left." Llewellyn waved the orb at him. "Pick me up. We can lay down there."

His standards are NOT that high! But he does have them!

So. So Gerrit ducked his head into the circle of Llewellyn’s arms and picked him up, holding him securely and setting off down the road again, back the way they’d come. The elf was right; there, about twenty feet back from the bank, was a thick copse of pines, all grown together with wild geranium and maidenhead ferns. Gerrit pushed through, shoulder first. Despite its proximity to the thoroughfare, the inside of the stand was quiet and shielded completely from view. This would do nicely.

Told you you’d get to carry him soon.

He set Llewellyn back on his feet and made short work of undressing him, first freeing the sorcerer from his pouches and bags, then undoing the silver buttons on his robe from his collarbone to his crotch. The rich fabric fell open appealingly. Next, Gerrit freed the elf from his boots and leggings. A long white shirt, woven from the finest of elven angora, still covered him, but Gerrit pushed the fabric up over Llewellyn’s belly, leaning in to kiss the elf again and touching him intimately.

Llewellyn moaned and nudged Gerrit’s hip with the orb. “Now you,” he said. “I want to see your body.”

Gerrit complied, making quick time shedding his cloak, pack, leather armor, breeches, boots. Two daggers, two short swords, caltrops, a bow and quiver, a glaive, and a spiked whip followed. He pushed them to the side as Llewellyn rolled his eyes.

This is another funny trope lol, like when a hero or assassin or someone has to go through airport security and the metal detector keeps beeping because they’re carrying 18 knives on their person. Fighters are proficient in every weapon, so why not have one of everything?

"You can't possibly have a use for all of those," the elf said, and then Gerrit captured his mouth again.

He laid Llewellyn down on the soft carpet of pine needles, using his cloak to cover the ground and double as a makeshift pillow. The elf was beautiful in the shifting shade, skin flawless. He had the orb resting on his chest and it glowed intermittently in the inconstant sunlight. The gold chain netting that encapsulated both the orb and Llewellyn's fine-boned hands glimmered. "You know," said Gerrit, smoothing a hand down Llewellyn's bare thigh. "You'd look pretty good bound up in gold chain."

"This isn't enough for you?" He scoffed.

Gerrit laughed. "It would be fun to tease you. I love it when you fuss at me. So cute." He dodged Llewellyn's elbow and settled down on his stomach, hooked one of Llewellyn's legs over his shoulder, and nuzzled the base of the elf's cock. "Ready, arimelda?" His own cock was under him, pressed to his stomach in the confines of his shirt. He could feel his pulse in the head of it, quickening with the scent of his lover.

"Yes, you prick," sighed the elf, and he moaned when Gerrit started to kiss him and lave his skin. His fingers flexed on the orb, longing to wind into Gerrit's hair.

Licking is kind of thing, and I love writing about fellatio so. Yay~

Gerrit took Llewellyn into his mouth eagerly, fingers curled over the elf's thighs, fingertips pressing at the sensitive inner surface as he sucked and teased and swallowed. Like this, he could focus on Llewellyn's pleasure. The noises the usually stoic and prideful sorcerer was making were enough to make Gerrit moan, mouth full, and rock his hips. Nothing pleased Gerrit more than seeing Llewellyn undone, seeing the elf flushed and open and undone for him. And he shivered, all over, when he heard the elf's breath catch and his tone go wavery. He thought he could come from this, listening to Llewellyn sneeze while pleasuring him implacably with a heated, well-placed tongue.

This is also VERY IMPORTANT. Caretaking to the point of like, partner worship idk. It’s good!!

"Aa, aa, ahh- ih- Gerrit, I-" Llewellyn drew his knee up, curling, heel drawing along Gerrit's back. "I nih- need to snih- hh-"

Gerrit drew his head back, let Llewellyn's cock free for a moment. He didn't loosen his grip on the elf's legs, though, wound up and desirous. "Okay by me, melda, it's okay. Feel all right? Want me to stop?" He was breathless himself, had to force the words past the distraction of his arousal, but he would abide.

Consent is the sexiest thing.

"No, don't stop," Llewellyn groaned, then turned his head to the side. "Hpptscht! Hah- Haktschiu!"

"Bless, bless." Gerrit kissed Llewellyn's thigh tenderly, then nipped it, drew his tongue over the hurt, sucked a bruise to mark its place. He swallowed Llewellyn down again as the elf cried out in pleasure and then bent with another helpless burst. Gerrit wondered if he could make Llewellyn come simultaneously with a sneeze and what that might feel like. The fantasy set him alight. His abdomen was tight, his cock like a brand on his stomach. He redoubled his efforts.

Gerrit felt it first, when Llewellyn came, in the tightening of the elf's thighs and stomach, then tasted the salt of his release. His world narrowed down to taking it in, swallowing, milking with his mouth while Llewellyn cried out, going until the elf was pushing him away, keening, oversensitive. He didn't wait to lift Llewellyn then into his lap, cradling him with one arm and stroking himself with the other hand, desperate to come as well. Llewellyn pressed his face to the junction of Gerrit's neck and shoulder, tightly gripping the cloth of Gerrit's shirt as they rocked together. The elf's nose was gently wet and he was panting, sniffling. Gerrit came with a shout, holding him close, shaking with an overabundance of pleasure. He let go of his cock and embraced Llewellyn fully. He had enough presence of mind not to confess to anything, but he couldn't stop himself from murmuring how beautiful, how soft.

okay. o__o There’s only so much I can say about writing the porn lol. I write what I want to read.

Gradually the world came back. Birdsong, first, and the bees, the sounds of the trees swaying in the light breeze. The lingering heat of the day, dampened by the shade and the growing dusk. The musty smell of pine needles and the sharper hint of sap, the scents of sex, the pressure of Llewellyn astride his lap, the bite of uneven ground against his knees. Llewellyn was touching his cheek, trying to say something sweet, failing because of his cold again.

I tried to write this part so that it would not be immediately obvious to the reader, as it is not to the characters, that the orb is gone.

"Ah- hh- Ttschgktst!"

Wetness against his neck. Gerrit wound his fingers with Llewellyn's and kissed his jaw. "Bless you," he said. "I'll find you a healer in Veigh. We'll get you well again. Right after we free you from the orb." He laid his cheek against the back of Llewellyn's hand tenderly. Then he paused. "Wait." Straightening, he brought his hands between them. The right was laced with Llewellyn's left. "The orb is gone."

Llewellyn straightened also, looking down at his hands. His hands with no orb. He lifted them both, amazed. And then wiped his nose on his wrist, sighing in pleasure. Gerrit tried not to blush despite everything.

Me too, buddy.

"Where did it go?" he asked, looking past the elf's shoulder. "Why did it come off?"

"Who even cares at this point??" Llewellyn had let go of him and was stretching, running his palms over his body, touching his own arms and face and cock, finally able to move and feel again after three days of magical bondage. He wiggled his fingers and then clapped his palms together, raising a small flame with their parting. "I have my freedom back. I can cast spells again. I can-" He smiled brilliantly. "I can touch you, too." He dropped his hands suddenly to Gerrit's lap, nimbly taking Gerrit's cock between them.

Gerrit lost track of the orb immediately.

Me too, buddy.

---

It was dark indeed when the two of them made it to the inn in Veigh, but both were in high spirits. Gerrit had relinquished handkerchief duty back to Llewellyn with a great internal mourning, but he could always fantasize about this again in the future (he did, frequently), and he knew that Llewellyn, despite his best efforts, would catch more colds on the road (he did, more frequently than he would like).

I would love to play a fetish-friendly D&D campaign, but it would be way too embarrassing, probably. My current PC has allergies, but I have never mentioned them in-game and probably never will lol. God help me if my DM ever remembers that I wrote them into my character sheet.

Remembrance and Cordes had only been able to secure one room, it seemed, with two beds. Gerrit resigned himself, going up the stairs, to sleeping on the floor. But... it was apparent upon entering the small space that... well, their priest and thief had ended up taking up only one of the beds, together. Gerrit and Llewellyn traded glances.

"I don't think I want to ask," said Llewellyn, going for the free bed.

"Sounds like a plan to me," Gerrit replied, joining him.

The untold story, lol

In the morning, Cordes, with great dignity sprung from embarrassment (the cause of which he did not volunteer) informed them that a letter had not been sent to the Mages Guild yet. He was immensely relieved to find that one was no longer needed and quick to congratulate Llewellyn on his newly regained freedom. Remembrance just chuckled from the bed and took her time buckling her armor back on.

Already in Veigh, the party spent some time stocking up on medicines and liquefying some of the heavier treasures they'd liberated from the bandit camp. Gerrit sent a message on to their patron to expect them back in the capital in a couple of weeks, barring disaster. They purchased horses and set out, ready for the next adventure.

---

The orb lay still in the pine thicket, nestled like an egg among the ferns, waiting for the next hapless traveler.

Faust’s Orb of Rope Bondage. Make a Will saving throw [DC 15] upon touching the orb with any body part, wearing clothes or not. Upon a failure, the orb will find its way to adhere to the hand of the hapless adventurer. If both hands touch the orb, they will both be stuck. If two people fail the save, one of each of their hands will be stuck. The spell can be broken only if each attached party has an orgasm.

I GUESS

#lyk writes #snz #llewellyn mistwalker #gerrit truestride #gerwellyn #director's cut commentary exercise

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