#I’m not coughing or sneezing at all yet and I’m washing my hands and everything | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eggcompany · 2 months

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Sherlock feels Shitty

Sherlock gets sick and John cares for him. Sherlock feels 'unsettled' and asks John to hold him. Cute cuddling ensues.Short and sweet

Sherlock was sick. Sicker than hell. He felt terrible and looked worse. Good thing he lived with a doctor.

Said doctor was currently doing laundry because everything smelled of sweet sickness. He found Sherlock in his room a few hours ago. Curled up under all his blankets, sweaty and pale. John had given him meds for the fever and a bottle of water.

“Sherlock, do you need anything? You should probably get a shower and get all that sweat off your skin. You could develop a rash and I mean it smells… awful in here. I’ll fix your bed while you wash up.” John said when he returned to check on the detective. Sherlock just groaned and pulled his blanket tighter around his head, hiding his face. John sighed. Sherlock is the worst patient.

John walked around and squatted down, his knees protesting, so he was face to face with Sherlock. His nose was the only thing visible from his blanket wrap.

“I swear to god I will put you in that goddamned tub wrapped in your blanket. Get up and shower and let me clean this room. You smell worse than usual.” John said in his ‘ Real Shit Sherlock, I’ll kill.’ voice. Sherlock shivered but not from the fever. He unwrapped his head and gave John puppy eyes.

“Up, come on. Stinky man, go shower. Think about what you want to eat while you’re in there!” John calls after Sherlock as he trudged to the bathroom wearing only a pair of briefs and a plain t-shirt that used to be john’s but is now stretched to hell.

John quickly stripped the bed and sprayed sanitizer on the bare mattress. He got a plain cotton sheet set and threw it onto the bed and covered the pillows in the nice new cases. John smiled and got a bottle of some good smelling spray that Mrs. Hudson cleans with and doused the room in it.

“Johnnnnnn” He sighs as he heard Sherlock calling out for him. John walks to where Sherlock’s soaking wet head is poked through the bathroom door. His hair hung into his face. John thought he looked like a hosed cat.

“What do you need, Sherlock? Did we run out of water?” John asked and leaned against the wall. Sherlock sneezed and then hiccuped. Sherlock groaned and looked up at John, so defeated.

“I don’t have a towel and I didn’t grab any clothes. Will you- Could you grab me some underwear and a hoodie? I’m getting cold. And a towel! Please…” Sherlock said and hiccuped again which caused him to cough. John felt pity for the younger man. Sherlock never gets sick…

John dug through Sherlock’s drawers till he found a pair of soft grey underwear and he found a plain navy blue hoodie in his closet. John went down and got a towel out of the clean laundry he had already folded but hadn’t put away yet. John made his way back to the bathroom and knocked.

“Johnnnn, I feel like trash. I’m cold and my body hurts so much and I feel like I’m melting.” Sherlock said through the door. John opened the door to reveal Sherlock sitting in the tub with the shower running. Sherlock was pouting as the water washed down his face. The room was filled with a thick steam that John thought felt rather nice.

“Sherlock, I brought you what you wanted. How about we get you dried off and dressed and right back to bed. I know you don’t feel good. You’ve just got a bit of a cold. I’ll come sit with you in your room if you’d like, we can go through emails. Now up and dressed.” John said and put the clothes on the sink and handed the soggy man the towel. Sherlock had turned off the shower but was still sitting in the tub. John walked out and he heard Sherlock groan as he stood up.

John dragged his chair in from the living room into Sherlock’s room and placed it beside Sherlock’s bed. He brought his laptop in and made a plate of biscuits and got a few water bottles to set beside the bed.

Soon Sherlock walked in and flopped down face first into the bed.

“Sherlock get under the covers. Why didn’t you dry your hair? Do you want to stay sick? Let me go get a towel. Eat these, drink this.” John said and watched Sherlock cocoon himself into his blankets and nibble on some of the cookies. John put a bottle on the bed too before he left to get a towel.

When he returned Sherlock was sitting up in the bed with his blanket still pulled over his head. John put his knee on the bed and pulled the blanket off Sherlock’s head.

“Do you want to brush it?” John said in a light quiet voice. Sherlock shook his head. John wiped the water from Sherlock’s pale skin around his neck and then around his ears. Finally John threw the towel over Sherlock’s head and rubbed and scrunched at the dark hair until the towel was wet and the hair was dry. Sherlock had closed his eyes and relaxed some. John threw the towel over near the hamper. John settled back and sat in his chair.

“Go back to sleep. You need to rest. All you can do is rest and try to soothe your throat. I’ll make you some new hot tea if you’d like.” John said and watched Sherlock pout and whine.

“Why’re you whining right now?” John asked and Sherlock looked at him and poked his bottom lip out.

“I feel unsettled. Everything’s wrong and I feel hot and cold and I’m overwhelmed.” Sherlock said and sniffed his nose. He looked so… well not Sherlock-y. Not confident and solid. He looked rather flustered and mushy.

“What can I do to help?” John asked and looked at Sherlock. Sherlock just thought for a moment while looking at his hands. John just waited. Sometimes you had to be patient with Sherlock, John learned a long time ago.

“You like me.” Sherlock said and didn’t look at John. John shook his head. ‘ You like me’ usually meant ‘ I’m going to ask for something normal friends wouldn’t ask for ’.

“What do you want?” John said in a caring tone. Sherlock sniffed his nose again and picked at his blanket for a moment.

“Will you be okay with um… holding me? ” Sherlock said. The last few words were mumbled so John didn’t quite understand.

“Sherlock, I didn’t hear you. Can you say it again?” John said and Sherlock blushed and looked to the side.

“Will you hold me, please? It’s fine if you don’t want to because it’s not something yo-” Sherlock very quickly and rambled on. John laughed and sat down on the side of the bed and pulled the covers away.

“I didn’t take you as a cuddler. Teddy bear are you?” John said and laid back against the pillow and headboard.

Sherlock blushed but quickly scooted so he was laying against John’s chest. Sherlock tried not to move and stay still as he laid stiffly against John’s arm and torso.

“Sherlock, you’re intolerable sometimes.” John said and pulled and pushed at the sick man until he was laying across John’s lap with his head laying against where John’s heart was. John put his arms around him and Sherlock didn’t breathe for a moment.

“Is this okay?” Sherlock whispered and felt like he was melting. John was so warm, so so warm. And strong and solid under him but he had some softness around his midsection and he smelled-

“Go to sleep.” John said and pulled the blanket back up over them. Sherlock was tense for a moment but then John started to rub Sherlock’s upper arm slowly.

John couldn’t help but fall asleep too. Sherlock’s weight felt nice against his chest and it was nice and cozy. John slept like the dead for almost two hours before a coughing fit woke him up.

John opened his eyes as he was shaken away by the coughing man who was pressed against his chest still. Though Sherlock was laying a different way now. Sherlock had put his legs on each side of John’s and his chin on John’s shoulder. Sherlock had his arms wrapped around John, under the short man’s own.

John instantly started to rub up and down Sherlock’s back. Sherlock hacked and wheezed for a few minutes before it stopped. He tried to catch his breath. John just rubbed his back and pulled the blanket back up to their shoulders.

“It’s alright. It’s okay. Just breathe, Sherlock, breathe in nice and deep and let it out. It’s alright.” John said in a low loving voice. John felt so bad for poor Sherlock. The younger man was really just skin and bones. Coughing must take so much out of him.

“I feel shitty…” Sherlock said and laid his face back onto John’s shoulder. John sighed and leaned over so his head was leaning on Sherlock’s.

“I know. I know you do. Well get you fixed up soon enough. Do you want to get up and get you-” John offered but Sherlock squeezed him and interrupted him.

“Stay. I don’t want anything. Just wanna sleep, please.” Sherlock said and closed his eyes. He really was still so tired…

John nodded. He kind of liked being here, holding Sherlock.

“Okay. Let’s just go back to sleep.” John was soon right back to sleep, this time with his arms wrapped around the detective.

Maybe taking care of Sherlock wouldn’t be too bad...

#fanfic #egg_company #bbc sherlock #sherlock x john #johnlock #john watson #johnlock fanfiction #johnlock fluff

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http-tokki · 2 years

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｡ₓcharacters: Levi ackerman x reader ｡ₓcontent: being sick with the flu/cold! fluff! canonverse! Levi x reader before they admit their feelings for each other. ｡ₓsummary: Levi knows something is up when he watches you pour a cup of tea rather than your usual black coffee. ｡ₓword count: 630 ｡ₓa/n: NOT PROOFREAD! So, I'm pretty sure I have covid which is fuuuun. My brother has it but I tested negative on a rapid test even tho I also have all the symptoms soo we'll see. This was so self-indulgent like everything I do on those blog lmao, anyway. hope you are all safe and well ♡♡

Levi knows something is up when he watches you pour a cup of tea rather than your usual black coffee. He’s sitting at his desk, his own mug of tea in his hands as he tracks your movements in the little kitchenette he has set up in his private quarters. You hadn’t shown any indication that you were swapping out your nightly beverage for something less intense, carrying out the same routine of grabbing your favourite mug, boiling the water, dumping a whole spoonful of sugar in but instead of reaching for the small brown bag of granulated coffee, you reach up and start rooting through the tea cabinet. Levi’s eyes narrow as you choose a mild earl grey, empty the leaves into the strainer, and make yourself some tea. Is something wrong? You were looking a bit run down earlier, maybe you weren’t sleeping well? Levi’s mind races as he cycles through possible reasons you weren’t having caffeine, so much so that he doesn’t notice you move until you are sitting in front of him, steaming mug on a make shift tissue coaster. With you so close, Levi clocks your red nose and cheeks, eyes watery and slipping closed as you lean on your face into your hand. Had you been crying or were you sick? He ponders the options while sipping tea.

“Are you okay?” Levi asks from behind his mug. “You’re drinking tea”

“I'm not feeling well” you answer. “I think I might have caught something from the kids.” a sniffle mid sentence. “There was a girl who was sneezing and coughing but didn’t want to miss out”

Levi’s nose crinkles at the idea of germs but he doesn’t pull back instead he reaches a hand out to feel your forehead. Hmm, you were pretty warm.

“Are you coughing?”

“Yes, but I’ll be fine. That’s why I made the tea, I thought it’d help”

Levi nods, pulling his hand away to wipe it on his pants discreetly. He doesn’t want you thinking he was disgusted by you, just the germs that could be lingering on your skin. “Stay here for the night, so I can monitor you and if you can’t go to work in the morning, I’ll know as soon as I wake up”

You shake your head, unable to accept the captain’s offer. You have your own room, why do you need to stay here?

“Levi, I’m fine. Honestly, I think it’s just a small cold. I’ll be okay on my own”

Levi isn’t having it. Standing from his chair he moves to you. Strong fingers gently pressed against your throat, feeling your swollen glands. “You’re sick and I want to take care of you, okay?”

Having Levi so close, touching you so intimately, all you could do was nod. “Why?”

“Because I want to. plus you take care of me all the time so it’s my turn” his explanation was so simple yet it filled you with warmth. “Alright, brat?”

bonus:

Levi tucks you in an hour after you finish your tea. Giving you privacy to wash in his bathroom, the hot water a welcomed relief on your aching muscles, before dressing in your night clothes Levi had gathered from your room. He makes you take his bed, fluffing the pillows and sheets, piling on all the blankets before leaving water and a handkerchief on the bedside table. (he even managed to sneak into the infirmary to get some cold medication that he forced down your throat) and only after you had fallen asleep, sniffling every so often does he slide into the cot he set up in the corner of the room but he doesn’t sleep. Every slight shift or cough had him awake, alert, and ready to go.

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masonxomount · 3 years

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Look After You - Mason Mount

Not a request I just wanted to write it! I was listening to Look After You by The Fray while I wrote :)

Tag list: @whiskeypowder @chloereddy @mountsmason @ofxinnocence

Just ask if you’d like to be added!

The paper pages between your fingers were soft as you turned the page on the book you were reading. You were curled under a fluffy blanket on the sofa, after creating a cosy atmosphere in the living room. Candles had been lit, the fake fire was on, and a mug of hot chocolate was steaming on the coffee table in front of you.

Rain was pattering against the window, which had been consistent for the whole afternoon and evening. The temperature had dropped dramatically in the past week, brought in from the beginning of autumn. You had been sitting content for around twenty minutes before sound came from the front door. Mason was finally home from training late.

You heard him before you saw him. He had shuffled through the hall, throwing his kit bag onto the floor and then pushed the door to the living room open.

Your boyfriend was so… wet.

“Oh my God.” You said, unable to say anything else as you looked at the current state of your boyfriend. His hair was plastered to his forehead, he had a bit of mug on his jaw, which was quite cute, and everything he was wearing was soaked through.

“Why didn’t you have a shower before you came home?” You asked, putting your book down next to your mug. You didn’t even bother to put the bookmark in. Unless you were imagining things, you were sure you just saw Mason shiver even though the room was toasty and warm.

“I forgot a spare kit. I only had what I’m wearing so what was the point?”

He sounded quite worn out, his voice gravelly and hoarse. It was clear the new weather wasn’t agreeing with him yet. Every year he worked outside in the winter, but whenever the weather changed quickly in autumn it took him some time to get used to it.

“You need to change and get warm, love.” You told him, moving the blanket off you to stand up. You went to hug him before realising just how wet he really was.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Mason said. “I’ll just get some food first.”

He was not fine. But you weren’t going to begrudge him food - the boy looked like he needed it.

Mason trudged off towards the kitchen, leaving you to watch him go. You winced as you saw several drops of water fall off him and onto the carpet. This was not good for him at all.

You ran upstairs in search of a towel for him, and to get out some warm clothes for him to get into after he was dry. You pulled several pieces of clothing out of drawers and the big wardrobe and set them out on the bed.

When you heard him cough, and then sneeze loudly, from downstairs you decided on a different plan.

“Mason Mount, you're having a hot bath!” You yelled down to him, already knowing you weren’t going to take no for an answer.

Hurrying into the bathroom you washed it down before turning the bot water tap on full blast. He was only going to make himself worse if he didn’t look after himself, and you were more than willing to look after him. Mason was clearly so tired from the day that he needed you to help him.

He had heard you shout to him, and you could hear him trudge up the stairs.

“Mase, baby, in here!” You wanted him to come straight to the bathroom.

His jacket had been shrugged off, so there was something in that. But even the jersey he wore underneath was sopping wet too.

Mason looked a bit sorry for himself as he allowed you to undress him. Sweet scents of florals came from the bath soak you had added to the water. Steam was curling from the water and flooding the room with heat.

Mason’s skin was cold under your fingers. No matter how much you touched him you couldn’t warm him up alone, you needed the water’s help.

When all of his clothes were lying in a heap on the floor you leant down to put your hand into the water to test the temperature. Hot, but not too hot. Perfect.

Mason hissed slightly when he came into contact with the water. You worried briefly if it was too hot, and the difference in temperature would shock his system, yet he happily lay back submerging all of himself below the waterline. When Mason surfaced again his hair was wetter, but at least it was warm water.

You sat with a hand trailing loosely into the water, watching your boyfriend sink down into the water to settle on his back. Colour was slowly coming back to his face from underneath the facial hair that had been allowed to grow over the past few weeks.

“Join me, please.”

You smiled at him, very happy to comply as you’d been wanting to, but you didn’t want to crowd his space. Undressing yourself, and creating a new pile of clothes on the floor, you sank down into the water with Mason. His arms came around you to hold you to him, your back relaxing against the muscles of his torso.

Your head fit perfectly onto his shoulder, meaning you could kiss his neck and place a few kisses along his jawline. Even his skin there was chilly to your lips still.

“Apart from you coming home and bringing half the world’s water with you,” You started, running your hands down Mason’s taunt arms and down to his hips. “How was training today?”

“Ok, all things considered.” Mason answered you. He had stopped sniffing now which was good. “We’ve discussed tactics for this weekend's game and it should be an interesting one.”

“That’s why you need to stay well, Mase. We need you to be fit for Saturday.”

“With you looking after me, darlin’, I should be fine.”

You grinned and nestled into him further.

“Thank you for looking after me.” Mason whispered, kissing from below your neck on your collarbone and all the way across your shoulder.

“It’s because I love you.”

“And I love you too.”

But Mason’s confession was ruined when he scooped up a handful of bubbles and smeared them over the lower part of your face. You now had a lovely bubbly beard.

You scoffed and repeated his actions on him. Seeing how he liked it when his real facial hair was covered.

“You look like Santa.” You stated, sculpting the bubbles into a point on his chin.

“You cheeky-” Mason said before stopping as you were cackling with laughter as he tickled your sides. Your movement resulted in a splattering of water going over the side of the bath. Mason was laughing along with you as he stopped his assault on your body. Both of your white beards had come off in the water.

“I think I’ll try and come home soaking most days now.”

“Please don’t or I’ll worry myself to death.”

“Can we just have more baths then?”

“Deal.”

Masterlist

Request HERE :)

#mason mount imagine #mason mount x y/n #mason mount x reader #mason mount #england nt #chelsea fc

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perfectpaperbluebirds · 3 years

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Better Now

A Bla/ck Tap/es podcast sickfic.

I have so many wonderful prompts in my inbox but the only thing I wanted to write was this wildly self-indulgent and overly long fic that's jam-packed with all my favorite tropes. I blame @matilda3948 for her recent amazing Dr. Strand sickfics for inspiration and @sanquintina for getting me into the podcast in the first place

This is technically Bl/ack Ta/pes fanfic, but you don't need to know anything about the series other than Dr. Strand is a persnickety, serious, stoic, skeptic with a very deep voice and troubled past.

Set after the end of the series as it stands currently and written in 1st person from the perspective of Strand's unnamed female partner. Could be Alex if you want, could be someone else with whom Strand finally found happiness and contentment. I kept that part generic on purpose.

Richard Strand is many things, but clumsy isn't one of them. So naturally I had to go investigate when early one morning I was startled by the sound of a tea mug shattering on the floor followed by a hastily bitten-off swear word.

In the kitchen I found my husband, the world renowned Dr. Strand, kneeling on the floor mopping up spilled tea. He glanced up with a sniffle as he heard me approach.

"Had it too close to the edge. At least it missed my pants. I think I got all the ceramic bits, but be careful."

His voice was even deeper than usual, low and gravelly from the cold he'd been developing over the past few days. That, paired with his heavy, reddened eyes and generally haggard appearance, gave me concern.

"You look like you hardly slept. How are you feeling?"

"I tossed and turned a bit last night. Couldn't get comfortable."

"Couldn't breathe I think would be more accurate. You were snoring and breathing through your mouth all night."

He sat back on his heels and frowned. "Sorry if I kept you up."

"You don't have to apologize. I'm just worried about you," I added as he winced when he stood, massaging the space between his eyebrows.

He shot me another irritated glance. "I'm fine. I just have a bit of a cold." I couldn't help but notice the weary slump of his shoulders, however. Even his suit looked less crisp than usual.

I summoned all my wifely tact and tried to make my voice persuasive: "Maybe you should stay home. You don't look like you'll be much use to anyone today."

He made an annoyed sound. "That's very unnecessary. I'm not staying home for a cold."

I looked pointedly out the window where a chilly November rain was pouring down steadily. "You really want to go out into that when you have a perfectly valid excuse not to?"

He too glanced out the window. After a moment he shook his head and cleared his throat, meeting my eyes again. "I'll be fine. It's just a little rain."

He headed toward the door, massaging his forehead once more.

"Don't you want your tea?"

"Oh, right." He whirled around quickly, grabbed the thermos, and headed toward the door again with a wet sniffle. I could only roll my eyes and sigh as the door closed behind him.

Most workdays I left after him and returned before him, and this Thursday was no exception. The rain was still pouring down when I arrived home from work that evening. I decided dinner was going to be vegetable stew and biscuits, not only for his cold, but also because I wanted some rainy November comfort food. Everything was nearly ready when I heard him coming up the steps. He opened the door, bringing with him a chilly gust, and I turned to greet him, but instead my mouth dropped open a bit at the sight of him.

His hair and clothes were completely soaked with rain, to the point of dripping puddles onto the floor as I watched, and he was visibly shivering, something I'd never seen him do before. Inexplicably, he was also shaking the loose drops off of his soaked umbrella, his expression drawn and miserable. I was noticing how diminished he seemed when suddenly his breath hitched violently:

"HehZIHH'shiew! HrrUUHHZchoo! HehhGIHH'nkkchoo!"

I rushed to his side, relieving him of his umbrella and briefcase and pulling his sodden coat off of him as he slumped down onto the nearby stool. Beneath the coat, his suit was nearly just as wet and cold.

"Oh, Richard, bless you! You're soaked to the skin. Ugh, and your hands are freezing. How did you manage to get so drenched?"

"A w-woman and her ch-children were w-waiting for the b-bus without c-coats. I held my umbrella f-for them until it c-came," he said, his teeth chattering and his lips blue with cold.

I toweled off his hair and clothes as best as I could before helping him undress. Any other day he would have brushed me off, saying he was perfectly capable of doing that himself. The fact that he allowed me to assist him spoke volumes to how poorly he felt.

I was behind him, trying to peel off his sodden linen shirt when he lurched forward for another volley of sneezes:

"HrrUUSCHH! HnnxXT! HHGGTchh!"

"Bless you again, poor love. You've made your cold worse going out in this," I gently chastised.

"I'm f-fine," he sniffled, still barely able to speak around his shivering. Yet he leaned back against me wearily as I removed his undershirt and replaced it with a blanket, and I thought I heard the softest hint of a groan.

I used my fingers to comb his disheveled hair, but frowned when I felt his forehead. "You're running a fever. You weren't feverish this morning."

He merely shrugged, wordlessly asking me to continue massaging his scalp, which I did. Slowly his shivers subsided, but he was clearly exhausted, and sniffled wetly every few moments.

"You look like you could use a hot drink and a warm bed," I said eventually.

"I'd start with a hot shower," came the mumbled reply.

"Hmm… what about a hot bath? I was thinking of taking one myself tonight, and I'm willing to share. No reason to waste the hot water. Dinner will keep for a bit longer."

He turned slightly, giving me a curious look. It wasn't that we had never bathed together before, but it was usually under very different circumstances. However, I happened to know my husband craved physical touch when he wasn't feeling well, though he would never ask for it. I was simply making life easier on both of us by preemptively offering it.

"I suppose that might be nice," he finally said. "But I'm very tired…."

I kissed his cheek. "No strings attached. Bath only. Then dinner and sleep. No funny business, I promise."

He relaxed slightly. "That's fine then."

"Good. Let me go run the water." I kissed his hair once more, then headed to the bathroom. He joined me there with a cup of tea after a few minutes. While the oversized tub finished filling, he leaned in the doorway, rubbing the back of his neck and looking distant and hazy, not to mention sick.

I shimmied off my clothes and slid into the water, gesturing for him to join me. He sluggishly obeyed, hampered in finishing his own undressing by his dripping nose. He set his mug of tea and a handkerchief on the little table beside the tub, then slid into the water in front of me.

His sigh of ecstasy as the hot water surrounded him was exactly what I hoped to hear, and he leaned back against me readily with a satisfied groan.

"Better?" I murmured in his ear.

"Much," came the rumbling reply, followed of course by a sniffle.

I pressed my lips into his hair again and again. He hardly moved as the heat soaked into him. I let my nails trail all over his skin and gave him a gentle massage, trying to help him relax, a feat he was rarely able to accomplish on his own

"Would you like me to wash your hair?" I murmured after a while.

He gave the barest nod in reply. Wordlessly I did just that, something else he would never consider allowing in any other circumstance.

I kept the soap far from his face, but the fragrance still had its way with him. I had nearly all the suds rinsed out when he suddenly jerked forward and leaned over the edge of the tub.

GihhIIISSHH'UH! Hhigg'CHUH! HihYEHSH'ooo!" He directed the spray as far away from me as he could, grabbing for the handkerchief to catch as much of the mess as possible. He mopped his face with a growl as he slid back into the water, but the spell was broken. He fidgeted against me, sniffling in irritation again and again as I finished rinsing his hair.

I suppressed a disappointed sigh. "You might feel better if you went and laid down now that you're warmed up. Get yourself a bowl of soup while I finish up here."

He grunted his assent, lifting himself out of the water and quickly toweling off as he began to shiver again right away. He donned his robe, took his tea, and went to get his supper.

The evening came to a quick close after that. Richard ate a small portion of soup, drank two mugs of tea, and refused any medication, but did little else. He wouldn't be described as loquacious on his best day, but he spoke even less than usual. The only noise he made was the occasional soft cough or explosive trio of sneezes and his perpetual sniffles as he attempted his usual evening reading. His eyes never lost their weary, hazy look though, and he was constantly shaking his head or wiping a knuckle under his nose, so I wondered how much he was actually absorbing.

When I suggested we go to bed, he didn't argue though, which was very unlike him. He fell into bed wearily, and it seemed he was asleep even before his head hit the pillow. I silently wished to myself as I drifted to sleep that he would either be recovered in the morning, or else have the sense to stay home if he was worse.

~~~~~~~~~~

Richard's alarm went off at the usual hour the next morning, and he shut it off right away. Normally he was out of bed in moments, but today he lingered, pulling the blankets closer around himself with a little groan.

I rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, but he continued to shift restlessly. After a moment, I heard him take a wheezy inhale and then break into a coughing fit, wet and hoarse. I turned to look at him again. He was on his back now, with an arm flung over his eyes.

"Aww, love," I murmured. "You ok?"

"I'm not feeling quite like myself," came the mumbled reply.

I reached out to stroke his cheek, letting my hand rest on his neck where I could feel his hugely swollen lymph nodes. He was well and truly sick now, and he needed to stay home from work. However, I couldn't be the one to suggest that, or else he would turn me down immediately and insist he was fine, as he had the day before. It needed to be his idea. I went with a different approach.

I nestled close to his side, kissing his shoulder softly. I could tell he was still feverish even through his clothes. "Busy day today?" I murmured.

He grunted wearily. I couldn't tell if it was affirmative or negative.

"I packed a big bowl of soup for your lunch. I hope it's enough to keep you full through the whole day. And don't forget, I'll meet you at your coworker's reception tonight. Was there anything I needed to bring to that?"

He slowly uncovered his face. "I was… actually considering staying home from work. It shouldn't be busy today, I can afford to miss. And… I'm really not feeling well at all. I'll make our excuses to John about his reception.

I did a silent victory dance in my head. "Oh, are you sure? I thought you had some important meetings."

"Nothing that can't be rescheduled." He cracked a red eye open, glancing at me suspiciously. "Why? Do you want me to go in?"

I shrugged nonchalantly, kissing him again. "I want you to do what you think is best. If you're not feeling well, you ought to stay home so you don't risk getting other people sick though."

"I suppose." He coughed hoarsely again, rubbing his chest with a grimace. "Yes, I'll stay home today. Let me call Carol and John."

He slowly stood and made his unsteady way to his phone, sniffling and coughing the whole way. The two phone conversations were very brief, for he hardly had to try to make a case for his illness, congested and hoarse as he clearly was. After he finished the calls, he shuffled back to bed immediately, heaping the blankets back over himself with a shuddering cough. I rubbed his back as he got settled.

"Can I get you anything, hon? Water, medicine?"

He shook his head. "Going to try to sleep this off," he mumbled, sleep already (or still?) heavy in his voice.

I knew medicine would almost certainly help his endeavors at sleeping. At minimum it would improve the quality of his sleep. However, I also knew he was stubborn about such things, so I didn't press the issue yet. "Alright." I kissed his hot cheek gently. "Then I'll leave you be for now. Let me know if you need anything. Sleep well."

I made the bed around him, straightening my side and tucking him in, then quietly left. The sound of his deep snores followed me out. So much for me sleeping in today.

He emerged again later that morning. I didn't notice him at first when he did, though. I had my headphones in and was dancing around while dusting. Turning around, I almost bumped into him, scaring us both. I yanked my headphones off right away, taking in his disheveled, sickly, blanket-wrapped appearance.

"You're awake! I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come out."

"Clearly," he rasped with the tiniest ghost of a smile. "You stayed home too?"

"It's my normal Friday off."

"Right, right," he sniffled. He then shuffled to the couch, collapsing onto it with a yawn. I went to sit beside him, unable to keep the concern from my face. I felt his forehead again, noting how he wearily leaned into the touch. I was forced to jump back though as he erupted into a volley of thick, chesty coughs.

I sighed, surveying him with worry. "You're running quite the fever, love. And the cold has obviously settled into your chest now too."

He nodded limply with another sniffle.

"I'm not taking no for an answer this time, I'm giving you medicine and you're going to take it."

He managed to fix me with a condescending look. "Medication for a cold is essentially pointless. It just treats the symptoms."

"You think making yourself more comfortable is pointless?"

He opened his mouth to answer, or so I thought, but instead he lurched forward into a trio of wet, spraying sneezes:

"Heh'YEISSHH'oo! YEEIISH'uuh! Gih'HIH-shoo! --ugh…" The forceful snapping motion of his head when he sneezed looked incredibly painful, so much so that he pressed the heels of his hands to his forehead with a groan in the aftermath.

"Bless you, hon!" I waited a beat as he composed himself. "So… what was it again you were saying about the futility of treating the symptoms?" I asked, admittedly snidely.

He only grunted softly. I couldn't keep the smug look from my face when he met my eyes once more. However, seeing how thoroughly miserable he was reawakened my sympathy immediately. I reached out to caress his hair and cheek yet again.

"How about I make you some tea, yeah? And maybe a bowl of soup?"

"Please," he mumbled.

"Coming right up."

Another round of his thick, exhausting coughs followed me into the kitchen, and I couldn't help but wince in sympathy, even though he couldn't see me.

In a matter of minutes I had his meal ready. When I brought it back out to him, I placed the soup on the table and dropped a handful of pills and a capful of medication beside the bowl with a meaningful look. His only reply was a small frown. I resumed my seat beside him and was about to hand him the steaming mug when an idea occurred to me.

"Is your throat hurting badly?"

He nodded heavily with a little scowl, as if he hated being reminded of it.

"Here, this may help a bit." I raised the mug to the level of his neck, pressing it against his visibly enlarged lymph node.

His eyes widened and he half-jumped back from the initial sensation.

"Trust me for a sec," I said gently, placing it against the swelling once more.

He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, but allowed it. After a moment though he visibly loosened. Making a sound between a whimper and a groan, he leaned harder against the heat.

"Better?"

"Mhmmmm," he sighed.

After another moment I switched to the other side of his neck and repeated the process. He angled himself here and there to get the most heat coverage over the tender areas. Finally I slid the mug into his hands, kissing his forehead.

"Thank you," he breathed. "That was… relieving."

"You're very welcome. Now, can I do anything else for you at the moment?"

"I'm fine. You don't need to fuss."

"I may not have to, but I want to, first because you're my husband and second because I know you're not 'fine.' But if you're going to insist you are, I'm going to go fold some laundry. Holler if you need anything. Or cough loudly if that's easier."

That earned me a Dr. Strand signature, the 'amused huff.' "I will. Thank you again."

"No thanks necessary." He received another kiss to the temple before I stood and headed to the laundry room with a last pointed look at the medicine. It occurred to me as I walked away that I was likely giving him an overabundance of kisses considering how contagious he clearly was, but he was just so darn pitiful.

Twenty minutes later, I returned to check on him, bringing a glass of water as well. The tea mug and soup bowl sat empty on the coffee table, surrounded by a few scattered tissues. The medicine was untouched. The doctor was huddled to one side of the couch with another tissue held loosely in his hand and one pajama-clad leg tucked under him, staring listlessly at the wall. However, at the sound of my footsteps he stirred with a sickly sniffle, scrubbing a hand over his face wearily. I smiled in greeting, and though he didn't return the smile, he did brighten a bit upon seeing me.

"What were you contemplating so deeply just now? You looked very lost in thought," I asked, handing him the water, then tidying up his little mess on the coffee table, leaving the pills.

He huffed a humorless laugh, looking self-conscious as he fiddled with the glass. "I was actually imagining how extensive the trial and error process must have been to determine how best to brew tea versus brewing coffee versus, for example, brewing beer. Roasting the ingredients versus drying versus fresh versus ground and boiling versus steeping versus fermenting. The amount of time that must have been necessary to perfect something so simple is rather astounding," he rasped, with many sniffles and throat-clearings thrown in.

I raised an eyebrow at him curiously. Aimless ramblings about random topics were not the norm for my painfully disciplined husband. "It is astounding I guess. I'd never thought about that before. Anyway, how are you feeling after eating?"

"I'm fine," he said, finally setting down the untouched water, though the nasty cough that immediately followed his statement contradicted him.

This time I audibly sighed. "You do realize that you saying you're fine all the time is very counterproductive to helping me assess your needs? You don't have to be fine, love."

He gave me an odd look. "Conceptually, I know that. But you have to remember, for a long time I *did* have to be 'fine.' I didn't have the option to be otherwise. You, all of this… still feels like a new development or a dream at times. Old habits die hard, I suppose."

I sat on the arm of the couch beside him. He wordlessly leaned in toward me so I could lightly run my fingernails over his scalp. He softly groaned in pleasure.

"I'm not going to waste my breath telling you that I'm not going anywhere and I'm here for you, because you already know that. So I suppose I'll just have to keep showing you."

I went to press a kiss to his head, but I caught a glimpse of his face and changed my mind when I saw he was about to sneeze.

"Gihh'chuuh! Hehh'choof! Ghnxt'choo!"

The sneezes were brisk and wet and left him breathless. He blew his nose with a wince before he spoke. "Sorry, could you repeat that? I missed most of it," he said, sounding stuffy and a little peeved.

I chuckled and complied, going for the kiss this time. He had no reply, but instead leaned against me wearily as I massaged his neck, yawning deeply.

"You should rest again, love. Take a nap if you can. It's either that or watch TV, which you'll never do. I'm not sure you should attempt much else."

He wrinkled his nose. "I hate being so unproductive. I don't want to sleep the day away."

"Sleeping when you're sick isn't being unproductive, it's being wise."

"HehhGIH'choo! HEHHH-choo! Hihhh'YESSHH'uuhh!"

I was quite sure he didn't hear most of my statement, since he sneezed right in the middle of it. With a pitiful sound he tended to his nose yet again as I blessed him earnestly. Eventually his watery, heavy lidded eyes met mine. I couldn't help but notice yet again how flushed and disheveled he was and how utterly pathetic he looked, quite the opposite of his usual cool, collected self.

"Guh. Sorry. What was that?" he asked with a pathetic sniffle, sounding very annoyed now.

"Aww, your nose. You really are sick, huh? Poor guy," I said, continuing to stroke his hair.

He looked slightly offended. "You were having doubts about that?"

I rolled my eyes good-naturedly. "It's just something you say, dear.

"I'm aware of the colloquialism," he grumped. "But I find it a very odd one. And it's never been directed at me before."

"There's a first time for everything, then."

I was rubbing his back now. He yawned again, grimacing after, I assumed due to the sore throat. I also noticed he was starting to shiver.

"Ok, now seriously, tell me what I need to do to convince you to nap."

"I'm not sure," he said with a chesty cough, nestling deeper into the couch.

"Hmm. I accept that challenge."

"And what challenge is that?"

"You won't tell me what I can do to help you, and perhaps you don't even know yourself, so I have to figure that out for both of us."

"I don't think there's anything I need though."

"You need to sleep."

He rolled his eyes with an annoyed huff, but I could tell he knew I was right.

I stood and went to put some smooth jazz on the record player in the room. Sitting down again, this time on the couch on the other side of him, I gestured to my lap.

"Come lie down."

"Wait-- lie down… right there?"

"Correct."

"Why?"

"Because you love hair scratches and neck rubs, so I'm making it easier to give them to you. Also you're apparently freezing and need to share some body heat."

He frowned, suppressing his shivers as best he could. Still, I knew he wouldn't be able to resist for long, tired and miserable as he was. Sure enough, after a moment he slowly levered himself down with a resigned sigh.

I quickly threw a blanket over him, and then began the hair scratches. He made a tiny, appreciative sound.

"Better?"

"Mm," he grunted.

"Good. But you're sweating, love," I murmured.

"I'm not sure how since I'm freezing," he mumbled with a cough.

"Your fever is higher. I can feel it just by touching you."

He groaned, snuggling deeper against me.

I massaged his neck for a while longer, trying to ease the tension from his muscles. He continued to be restless though, and apparently unable to regulate his body temperature. One moment he would be shaking with chills pulling the blanket closer, and then the next kicking it away from his legs with a moan of discomfort.

The final straw for me was when he was overcome with yet another hacking coughing fit, curling in on himself miserably, trying to muffle it into his arm, the other hand clutching his chest.

Before he settled again, I leaned forward to grab the untouched pile of medication and glass of water from the coffee table. When he was again lying against me, I wordlessly held it out to him. He of course made a sound of irritation.

"Why are you being so stubborn? You need to sleep, and you can't sleep in the state you're in, at least not well. This will help your headache, fever, sore throat, everything so you can rest. I can tell you're exhausted."

After a final moment of consideration, he held out a reluctant hand. I handed him the items and he swallowed them without comment.

Neither of us spoke again for a long time, and didn't move from our places. I soothingly stroked his hair or rubbed his back, putting myself in a trance almost as much as him.

I could see the medication talking effect. His restlessness slowly eased along with his coughing. It seemed I could even feel his body temperature decreasing.

"Hnnkkt'CHUH! Hehgg'CHUHH! EHHG'choo!"

Just as I thought he was asleep, his body twitched with a trio of sneezes, the quality of which could only be described as lazy--slow, thick, and dulled. They hardly seemed to stir him from his stupor.

"Bless you. Are you ok?"

" 'm fine," he croaked tiredly. We were both quiet for a while, then he spoke up again. "You know, one of the reasons I keep saying I'm fine is because I can't begin to describe what an improvement it is to be with you while being sick compared to being sick in bed alone. The difference is as drastic as night and day--better doesn't begin to describe it. Asking for anything more than what I already have just by your being here feels selfish."

Richard would never express such sentiments under normal circumstances, and hearing it said so plainly overwhelmed me with emotion. Yet I knew he wouldn't want me to reply in kind. He would prefer to state his piece and let it be. And indeed, I saw his eyes drooping heavier by the second, so I kept my thoughts to myself for now, but leaned over to plant a series of kisses all over his hot face.

He hardly moved and didn't respond even when I finally stopped, but I couldn't help but notice the tiny smile playing around his lips as he drifted off to sleep.

#Sickness #sicknario #sickfic #snzblr #snzario #snzfic #everyone is hotter with a fever

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thewhitejournal · 4 years

Text

doctor’s orders .

(not my gif)

request by @lovely-lady-lumps : Can you do a cute Dean Winchester x reader where they take a shower and she washes his hair for him and it's just a really soft moment between them?

Dean Winchester x Female!Reader Oneshot

the premiere of the newest episode of supernatural this evening got me falling in love with soft Dean all over again, so i felt like now would be the perfect time to write this. hope y’all enjoy!

warnings: cursing, a little smutty i won’t lie

Dean had been moping around the bunker for the last couple of days, sick as a dog. Every day he would feel a tad better, but not back to full health quite yet. You felt bad for him; you were used to seeing the eldest brother witty and full of energy, but this cold was kicking his ass. You teased him, telling him it was because he didn’t eat his vegetables. He’d only roll his eyes and chuckle deeply. The cold gave his voice the ill but deep and sexy tone. It suited him perfectly, but what didn’t?

Ever since the Winchester brothers saved you from becoming vamp dinner about six months ago, you’d grown so attached to them, but in very different ways. Sure, Sam was so intelligent and funny and you couldn’t deny attractive, but Dean gave you a feeling in your chest that nobody had ever made you feel before. His emerald green eyes pierced through you every time you stole a glance at each other, and his lips looked to be softer than silk. You didn’t know that for sure though, neither of you had made a move.

It was getting to be around noon, and Dean was still in bed. Usually, by now you’d at least had heard him use the bathroom or sneeze from your room next to his. You rolled out of bed, sliding on your house shoes, and wrapping the cardigan you wore around your body. The cold, fall temperatures outside weren’t helping Dean feel better either. You walked out of your room, turning to your right to see his bedroom door closed. Your knuckles rapped softly against the old wood. He mumbled for you to come in.

You slowly pushed the door open, seeing that Dean was lying in almost complete darkness, wrapped up in two blankets and wearing a matching long-sleeved pajama set. You could tell he was slipping in and out of consciousness; his eyes looked like they were begging him to shut them and go back to sleep. You sat next to him on the edge of the bed, placing your hand on his chest. He was laying flat on his back. His body heat was burning through the shirt he wore.

“Dean, you’re burning up.” You muttered softly, touching his forehead softly with the back of your hand. His skin was on fire. He groaned.

“I’m so cold though, (Y/N). Snuggle me.” He all but pouted as he said this. You were taken aback; you knew Dean was bold, but never with you. Now it was your face’s turn to heat up. When you didn’t move, he scooted over and made room, then pulled you down to lay next to him. You yelped with surprise, and he chuckled deeply.

His arms wrapped around you, and he exhaled peacefully. You laid your hand on his chest, your other arm hugging your waist. One of his hands rested on top of yours. You snuggled up to him; you couldn’t help it, he was really warm and you were freezing. It didn’t help that he just smelled so damn good too. But not the best, you happened to notice.

“I think you should take a shower.” You whispered. Laughter echoed throughout his chest, followed by a couple of coughs.

“I stink that bad?” You were silent, a smile wavering on your lips. He lightly hit your hand.

“Shut up, bitch.” He remarked.

“Jerk.” You looked up at him; he was looking down at you and smiling. Your gaze lingered on each other, and you thought he was going to kiss you, but he slowly sat up, groaning all the way. You got out of the bed.

“Alright, doctor’s orders. But you need one too.” He smiled up at you, bed head at its finest. You gasped playfully.

“What, me? Never.”

“No, you don’t smell so great yourself, princess. My nose might be clogged up but I could smell your ass a mile away.” You pouted at him, the nickname giving you butterflies. He laughed lightly.

“Might as well take one together and save water.” You joked. His eyebrows rose and his lips parted in surprise. You realized he may not have known you were kidding. “Dean, I was just-“ You tried defending yourself, but he cut you off.

“Sounds good to me. But you have to wash my hair. My arms are killing me.” He threw the blankets off of him, standing up and started unbuttoning his shirts right in front of you. You turned your head instinctively, but his finger lifted your chin to meet his eyes.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to.” His eyes flickered all over your face, voice low and sultry. Of course, you wanted to, you were just nervous. You’d never been with a guy like Dean before; you knew he cared about you and didn’t want to hurt you, that’s what made him special.

“You know I’ll take care of you, right, (Y/N)? Nothing bad is going to happen to you.” His calloused hands held your face. His hot, bare chest was against your sweater.

“I know.” You muttered. He placed a soft, gentle kiss on your lips, and you kissed him back. This was your guys’ first kiss, and it was everything you’d dreamed of. Minus Dean’s cold of course; the thought crossed your mind only for a second that you might get sick too, but you lost any care you might’ve grown to have. He pulled away, smirking at you. You smiled back, how could you not?

He took your hand and led you to the bathroom adjoined to his room, shutting the door behind him. He placed another kiss on your lips, less gentle this time, but you didn’t mind. As silly as it might sound, you felt like you two were making up for lost time; you’d felt like you’d known each other forever, and all the pining made it feel like so much longer. You stepped back from him and slowly pulled your cardigan off and dropping it to the floor. His eyes watched your every move so carefully, eyes growing darker in color and pupils growing wider, like a hungry animal. Again, you didn’t mind. He made you feel like a powerful, sexy, wanted woman; no man had ever made you feel that way.

Your shirt came off your body next, slipping off your arms and onto the floor. You wore no bra underneath your clothes; you were relaxing at home, after all. What kind of person relaxes in a bra? Dean was mesmerized by your chest, but not in a creepy way. He was admiring your new-to-him beauty, eyes flickering all over the freshly exposed skin.

“(Y/N)...you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” His voice was low and had that sickly tone. It was saying a lot though; Dean had been with hundreds of women over the years, but they didn’t compare to you. You were a goddess in his eyes; despite all the flaws you saw in your body, he loved it, from head to toe. He closed the distance between the two of you again, wrapping his arms around your now bare waist. Now you could feel just how hot his skin was. His lips met yours again and he trailed hungry kisses down your neck. You stifled a moan, knowing Sam was around here somewhere. You knew Dean was going to leave marks, but you didn’t care.

He stepped back and pulled his pants off, not wearing any underwear for some reason. He was sporting a bit of a hard-on, which gave you, even more, self-confidence. You did the same, kicking off your pants and underwear to the side. You were both stood completely naked in front of each other for the first time, just admiring each other’s bodies. You smirked.

“Ready for your spa day, Mr. Winchester?” You joked. He nodded his head eagerly like a child. You couldn’t help but laugh at this. He was adorable yet so sexy at the same time. How did he do it?

You turned the water on in the shower and waited for it to get to a comfortable and warm temperature. Your back was to Dean, and you could feel his eyes on you, admiring every inch of your skin. You felt a little self-conscious, but you knew he thought you were beautiful just as you were. You stepped in, beckoning Dean with one finger and a smirk on your lips. He smirked back, following you into the shower.

You stepped back and let the water flow over your body, running your hands over your hair so that it all got wet. You opened your eyes to see Dean in front of you, entranced with you. “What?” You laughed nervously. He didn’t say anything; he just encased you in his arms and kissed you roughly. You felt his hard dick on your leg, making you blush profusely. You even let a little moan slip from between your lips. He returned you the favor.

“Don’t worry about him right now, we’re here to shower. He can wait.” Dean said as he pulled away; you imagined he was referring to his penis. You laughed a tad and nodded. You motioned for him to turn around and you squirted some of his shampoo in your hands, massaging it into his scalp. He groaned, leaning into your hands. You giggled.

“Thanks for doing this, (Y/N). I think I’m already feeling a lot better.” He whispered. You smiled.

“Anytime, Winchester.”

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obae-me · 4 years

Text

A Taste Of His Own Medicine- Beel

Word Count: 2464

Description: This demon cold isn’t done with its victims, and despite your best attempts at keeping everyone healthy, you still aren’t done with your caretaking.

Lucifer and Mammon were now fully healthy and back on their feet, Satan not too far behind them. The rest of the household had their fingers crossed that it wouldn’t spread any further. Those hopes were dashed when two people were absent from breakfast one morning. The twins, Beel and Belphie, had never come down from their shared room. For Belphie, this wasn’t something to stop the presses for, he was known for sleeping too late only to get up at the last minute. For Beel, however, to miss any sort of meal? Something had to be wrong.

You offered to go check on them, putting your fork down, your morning breakfast not the same without the two of them.

Lucifer was somehow already out of his chair, gently pushing you back to your seat with a single hand on your shoulder. “Please, let me. If they are sick it’s hard telling how they’ll react. They could just as easily be oversleeping.”

You wanted to protest, but you figured he was probably right. He was their brother first and foremost, you were still just some human living in their home. That fact and the kinder eyes and soft touch he had given you had won you over to his words. He strided away from the table, and with a few long steps, he exited the room.

Asmo was squirming uncomfortably, audibly whining. “I was stupid to think this sickness thing was over! With Beel eating everything down to all your leftovers, it’s no wonder he caught your ugly germs! Then he gave it to Belphie, and next you’ll all give it to me!” He pushed his plate away from him, only having a single bite taken out of his meal.

“You don’t know that they’re sick yet,” Mammon rebutted. “And what do you mean my germs are ugly? Yours are!”

“The likelihood that both of them are ill is high.” Satan sighed, putting down his book he had brought with him. After doing his best to tune them out, it just wasn’t working. He still was weaker than he’d like to be, not to mention drained, but a doctor had confirmed that he was no longer contagious and could continue attending his classes at RAD. “The fridge has been abnormally full and I heard plenty of coughing from Belphie the other day.”

An alarming banging sound came from above their heads, little specks of dust from the ceiling floated down, only just visible in the direct light. As if this proved his theory, Satan gestured towards the noise. His eyelid almost twitching as Lucifer’s booming voice could be heard throughout the house.

This was enough for Asmo to get up from his spot, shaking his head profusely. “I swear if I catch this thing, all of you are absolutely going to have it, you hear me?!” He choked back a fake sob and went to leave the room.

“Oi, where are you going?” Mammon called after him.

“To wash my hands!” The demon of lust slammed the door to the dining hall as you watched more dust sprites dance down from the air. They twirled and spinned right over Levi. His nose twitched and he raised his elbow to cover his face as he let out a sneeze.

Levi, the only one who had been quiet this far, finally let out a long groan. He glanced down at his hands fearfully, as if they had been covered with blood. “No no no no no, I’m sick, I knew it!”

Satan rested his head back in his chair, closing his eyes in annoyance. The ruckus upstairs had gotten worse, his brothers were driving him up the wall already, and he still wasn’t feeling well, maybe he’d skip out on classes today. “Levi, I doubt you’re sick, you never leave your room.”

“Mammon bumped into me in the hallway when he had it, I bet he gave it to me then!”

Now the only three brothers left at the table were fighting. You frowned as your food ended up on the far side of the room along with the table. Unfortunately, this kind of thing happened often, so you excused yourself, expertly dodging a plate as it whirled past. You sat yourself on the stone steps of the entryway, waiting for the multiple battles to die down. There was screaming downstairs, crashing upstairs, the whole house in chaos once again.

“Demons…” You sighed.

***

Lucifer confirmed it, both of them had caught the cold, and he had spent the past hour or so attempting to wrangle both of them into taking some medicine. He had succeeded naturally, but as much as wanted to take care of his little brothers, he had plenty of work to do, and this morning’s event had already set him behind.

He informed you that they were calm now, the medicine lulling and sedating them, so you could see them freely without worry of them tearing you apart. Lucifer still warned you about watching yourself. “You’ve been on the brunt of all of this. I’m concerned for your health, the last thing we need is for you to fall ill as well.” You persuaded him that if you hadn’t gotten sick yet, maybe you were immune to demon colds. He wasn’t fully assured but let you do what you needed regardless.

You figured the best thing to cheer the twins up was with some good homemade soup. With Satan’s assistance, you concocted the most comforting meal you had ever made. You put two steaming bowls on a silver tray and brought it up to the twins room. The door to their bedroom had a golden emblem ingrained in the wood. A moon encircling a sun, resembling the same individual symbols above both their beds. You balanced the tray on your hip for just a moment as you softly rapped your knuckles against the smooth wood. You were pleasantly surprised when someone actually opened the door for a change.

Beel looked down at you, eyes heavy, wearing a faded orange t-shirt and some black shorts. He was already radiating a ton of heat, his shirt sticking to the skin around his torso. His abs and muscles were clearly shown through the fabric, but he didn’t seem to mind. He rubbed one of his eyes with a hand, not even focusing on the soup bowls. “MC, what’re you doing here?”

You lifted up the tray with both hands and presented the meal you made with him. The creamy broth with hearty vegetables and noodles would surely make him feel better. “I made you both soup since you aren’t feeling well.”

He frowned deeply, a look of loss in his eyes. “I’m not hungry, and Belphie’s asleep.” A simple glance past Beel’s body, and you could indeed see a lump in Belphie’s bed, many lumps in fact. There must’ve been plenty new additions to his pillow collection. “I’m sorry you went through the trouble,” Beel sighed, and went to shut the door. You quickly brought your attention back to the demon at hand, shocked and a little hurt that he would shut you out. He had never done that, ever. All of his other brothers, sure, but him? He always had his door and his arms wide open for you at all times. You used your leg to push open the door.

“Beel wait, please, you haven’t eaten all day. How are you going to give your body enough strength to heal if you don’t give it any fuel?” You looked up at him expectantly, worried for him. He had said those same words to you once before when you accidentally skipped out on a meal. He was always aware of what you had eaten and when, making sure you had all the balanced meals your body needed. It was about time you returned the favor.

“But the medicine…” He pressed one hand to his gut, his nose wrinkling up at the mention of food. You noticed him sway a little in place before he gripped the door tightly for balance. The usual glow in his countenance had gone dull, and it broke your heart. He seemed to always be strong, always be positive, always have a smile on his face when it came to food and family. Now, he just seemed out of it, eager to head back to bed with both you and the bowls on the other side of the door. You cursed the tray for occupying both of your hands. You wanted to go wrap him up in your arms, even if he was much bigger than you were.

“The medicine might be why you feel sick to your stomach in the first place, you didn’t eat anything before Lucifer gave it to you, didn’t you?” Your words brought his eyes up from staring at the floor and back to you. Orange strands of his hair were freed from the skin on his forehead as he shook his head to your question. An answer wasn’t quite necessary anyway, from the fighting you heard and Lucifer’s brief description, the older brother forced the medicine down both the twins throats before they had a chance to protest. You lifted the tray back up near Beel’s face, the contents of the bowls sloshed enough to almost drip over the edge. “You might feel better if you eat. Even just a little?”

The look of your begging eyes just peeking up over the top of the tray made Beel shift around on his feet. He looked like he was having an intense internal debate. The door in his hand was creaking open and shut while he decided if he wanted to let you in or not. Your heart sank as he seemed to come to the conclusion to prevent you from entering, the door almost clicking back into place to leave you in an empty hallway. Then he brought it back wide open, his eyes a little watery as he made it up in his mind that he could never shut you out like that. Your chest swelled as he let you in, shutting the door quietly behind you.

The room was almost consumed in pitch darkness as soon as the entrance closed. The only light source seemed to be coming from Beel’s side of the room emanating from the screen of his D.D.D. on his nightstand. It worked well enough as you followed Beel’s silhouette to make your way to his bed. You waited until the demon climbed back onto his mattress, sitting up while he pulled the covers over his legs. Not wanting to speak as to disturb Belphie, you extended one finger from the tray handle and pointed at his bed as a question. He nodded and you sat down right beside his thigh, placing the tray on his lap. His blankets were soft, and with a stroke of your hand, you smoothed out some of the wrinkles.

The sight of the soup made Beel grimace at first, and he looked back up at you with pleading eyes, like he was begging you not to make him eat. Your stern but comforting expression let his shoulders sag down in defeat, and he picked up a golden spoon. You rubbed the side of his arm as the glint of dim light reflected off the utensil. He scooped up some of the soup and put it into his mouth.

For a moment, he looked like he was about to be sick, forcing himself to take a moment to breathe in deeply as you silently comforted him in the dark. Scooting up from your spot on the bed, you got closer to his body, reaching around to rub his back and shoulders as he composed himself. You leaned in, whispering into his ear.

“Is my cooking really that bad?” You frowned, embarrassed, unsure if his reaction was towards your talents in the kitchen or the state of his sickly body. He didn’t answer you. Once the first spoon had settled, he quickly went for another taste. You braced yourself for another terrible reaction. He lowered his head so you couldn’t see his face in the light, the spoon between his fingers was trembling. You attempted to grab the tray, ready to have a word with Satan about his supposed recipe he had given you. Beel covered your hand with his, closing around it and giving it a squeeze.

His head raised back up, small tears making their way down his cheeks. He leaned in towards you, his chin almost resting on your shoulder. “It’s...so delicious. May I...eat it?” You almost let out a chuckle as you squeezed Beel’s hand back in return, your other hand resting on the back of Beel’s head as you gave his hair some gentle strokes. The Demon of Gluttony had just asked you if he was allowed to eat the food you had made specifically for him.

“Yes, Beel, I made it for you.”

He sat up away from you, the happy glow returned to his eyes as he went to work not only downing the bowl for him, but the bowl for Belphie as well. You made a mental note to come take care of the other twin later, right now you were focused on Beel. Sick or not, he still was strong and fast enough to consume both servings in a few minutes. You took the tray and set it on his nightstand.

He already looked so much better, color in his cheeks, more light in his eyes, and a little less swaying. You went to go stand up to leave, but two big arms wrapped around your body to hold you in place. The hot skin on Beel’s cheek pressed against your forehead as he sighed in relief.

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

You rested your head against his chest as he held you even tighter. “You’re welcome, Beel. I’ll bring you all the soup you want until you feel better.”

He buried his nose in your hair, his hands gripping your shirt. He leaned back against his headboard, bringing you along with him as you almost laid on top of him. It didn’t seem like he was going to let you go anytime soon. He closed his eyes and with one hand he flipped his D.D.D over so there was nothing but blackness in the room.

He breathed deeply, slowly sliding down until he was fully flat on his bed. You were right on top of him as his chest moved you slightly up and down with each of his slow breaths. He sleepily whispered one last phrase before he drifted into slumber. “You’re much better than any soup in the world.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me beel #obey me beel x mc #obey me beel x reader

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zimms · 3 years

Text

an olliewicks flower shop au to soothe the soul! this is somewhat based on mine and @tingo-tango’s tags on this post.

fields of flowers, soft beneath my heels

Ollie’s wrist-deep in a pot of soil, sweat rolling down his cheeks and sunlight streaming through the windows of Faber’s Flowers, when the shop’s bell rings and a new customer stumbles through the door. Ollie frowns slightly and hastily wipes the beads of sweat off his chin with the corner of his shirt, before plastering on his best customer service smile to greet whoever needs flowers at 7:30 am on a Tuesday morning. He mentally catalogues the possibilities; maybe they’ve forgotten their spouse’s birthday? Or maybe it’s a gift for someone at work? Maybe it’s an apology present because they accidentally cycled into a fruit stall and ruined a fresh batch of melons?

(Okay, maybe not, but it would be a refreshing change in the cycle of constant businessmen grovelling for their partner’s forgiveness)

Ollie shakes himself from his thoughts and grins across the counter at the customer, who’s sporting a baseball cap and a t-shirt that sits just right across his broad shoulders. Ollie’s eyes track down the guy’s biceps which are a tad too big for the sleeves. Ollie consciously shut his mouth to stop himself from gaping; this guy was hot. As Ollie’s gaze roams across the customer’s face to meet his eyes, he realises three things. Number one is that he definitely shouldn’t be ogling a customer like he’s a piece of meat. Number two is that he hasn’t said anything to this guy yet. Number three is that at least a minute of awkward silence and staring has passed since the customer entered the shop.

Ollie rips his eyes away from the customer’s face to stare at a spot slightly behind his left shoulder. “Hi! What can I help you with today?”

The guy shifts on the balls of his feet, scanning the shelves of bouquets and individual flowers. “Erm, I’m looking for a bouquet of flowers for my mom?” His voice raises at the end of his sentence, which is kind of cute, if Ollie does say so. He rubs the back of his neck and his checks flush pink. “I kinda need to apologise to her.”

Ah, a classic apology scenario. Got it.

“What’s the apology for?” Ollie asks as he turns to the sink behind the counter to wash his hands. “Not that you have to tell me that is; it just might help as we make the bouquet.” He unravels the roll of tissue paper and cuts off a square to package the flowers in.

Hot Guy winces. “Ah,” he says, “I kinda got into a fight in front of her the other night. She was not happy to say the least, so I figured I might as well get her some flowers to apologise for it.”

“Cool, cool.” Ollie grins at him. “What kinda flowers do you want for her?” He gestured to the whole shop, where various buckets of flowers lined the walls, each displaying a different species. “We can get her just a plain old bunch that’s all just the same type of flower, or we could mix and match, create a nice piece of artwork that she’ll admire rather than a bunch that’s boring and all the same.”

Hot Guy’s eyes flick up from the counter and meet Ollie’s own, moving slowly up his body. If Ollie was feeling particularly optimistic, he’d say the guy was checking him out, but he pushes that thought to the corner of his mind because he’s made way too many faux-pas in the past by asking out guys that have come into the shop just for all of them to be straight. Hot Guy clears his throat. “Yeah, a mixture sounds good. I know her favourite flowers are hyacinths if that helps?”

“That’s perfect.” Ollie shoots him the most reassuring smile he can think of, eyes softening. He grabs the bucket of blue hyacinths that sit behind him. “These alright?”

“Yeah, those are great,” Hot Guy says a little hoarsely, squinting at Ollie’s name tag, “Ollie.” Something settles in Hot Guy’s voice and he seems a bit more comfortable.

“So, why'd you get into a fight in front of your mom?” Ollie reaches for the bucket of Narcissus behind him and waves a bunch at Hot Guy for affirmation. He nods in return. “Doesn’t seem like the best idea to me-” Ollie trails off, hoping that Hot Guy might get the hint and finally introduce himself.

“Oh, uh, Pacer.” He coughs and the remaining tension leaks out of his posture. “Nah, a guy said something about Ma, and you know, I had to rush to defend her like the rash idiot I am.”

Ollie laughs. “At least, it’s one of the more noble reasons to get into a fight. There’s a bit more chance of forgiveness, then.”

Pacer nods and his gaze wanders away from where Ollie is deftly making the bouquet to settle on the purple Clematis.

“You like them?” Ollie makes a ‘gimme’ motion with his hands and Pacer passes the bucket over to him. Their hands briefly brush each other during the exchange and Ollie does everything in his power to ignore the jolt that goes through him at that brief skin to skin contact. “You’ve got a good eye; I was just about to grab them myself.”

“Yeah, my mom loves blue and yello-” Pacer cuts himself off with a sneeze. “Also, aren’t they the colours of the local hockey team around here? The Falcons?” Although he has a completely clueless tone to his voice, Pacer is studying Ollie’s reaction as if it might reveal the secrets of the universe.

“Yeah, the Falcs! I only get to see them every so often, but they’re great,” Ollie says, doing his level best to ignore Pacer’s sudden intensity. “I was actually on the same team as Jack Zimmermann in college, which was pretty cool.”

“Really?” Pacer’s enigmatic expression becomes even more indecipherable. “That is pretty cool.” He looks slightly over his shoulder towards the street before meeting Ollie’s eyes and flashing a genuine smile at him. “I actually played a bit of hockey myself, you know.”

Ollie tries to convince himself that the bubble of excitement that rushes through him is because Pacer is such a good conversationalist and not for any other reason, like the fact that they have a couple of things in common, or that Pacer is one of the hottest guys he’s ever seen.

(He fails.)

_X_

Pacer leaves about forty minutes later, with a bouquet and handwritten note in hand and a smile fixed firmly on his face. When Ollie goes to scrub down the counter and start repotting the plant he’d abandoned when Pacer had arrived, he spots a scrap of paper that definitely hadn’t been there before. The note is pretty cute; it’s a string of numbers and a smiley face, accompanied by a couple of lines from Pacer.

Would you like to go I would have asked you out earlier, but my tea friend always says it’s bad form to hit on workers whilst they’re on shift. Anyway, here’s my number if you want to go out some time? Call m Don’t worry if you don’t though!

- Pacer

Ollie grins as he opens up his phone to add the number to his contacts, but pauses as he sees a Google Alert come through that he’s set up for the Falcs. The text reads, Providence Falconers acquire forward Pacer Wicks from Colorado Avalanche in exchange for a second round pick in the 2022 NHL Draft, and immediately underneath the caption, Pacer’s smiling face stares out at him.

Pacer’s voice echoes in his mind. “I actually played a bit of hockey myself.”

Played a bit of hockey himself? Ollie cannot believe this guy. He plays in the fucking NHL and all he says is “I actually played a bit of hockey myself.”

However, Ollie thinks as he opens up the article to see a picture of a bruised Pacer from his last game with the Avs, it would explain why he needed to apologise for fighting in front of his mom.

_X_

Now that Ollie is aware of Pacer Wicks’ existence, he seems to follow him everywhere. Well, not Pacer exactly, but his name.

It begins, like many things, at the grocery store.

“Excuse me?” the cashier asks, as she’s scanning his groceries two days after Pacer first came into the florist’s. “Are you that hockey player? Pacer Wicks?”

Ollie furrows his eyebrows. He doesn’t think that him and Pacer look that similar, but then again, Pacer’s only been in Providence a couple of days, so people don’t exactly know what he looks like yet. “No, sorry.”

The cashier purses her lips, taking a moment to study him again before ringing him up. “Huh, sorry! You guys just look really alike is all.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” Ollie gathers up his groceries. “These things happen sometimes.”

(He almost texts Pacer to tell him about it, but, as Ollie looks at the clock on his phone, he realises that Pacer probably isn’t going to want to receive a message about how someone thought they looked similar mid-way through his game against the Pens.

Also, he’d have to wish him luck and honestly, as much as Ollie loves the Falcs, he wouldn’t wish them too much luck against his hometown team.)

_X_

ollie

hey! i’ve finished off that other apology bouquet for your ma!

let me know when you want to swing by and pick it up!

also i was watching the game tonight; do you need me to make up another identical one for your ma, or do you wanna come into the shop to choose this one?

pacer

thanks ol! i’ll probably swing by to pick it up tomorrow and then help make the next one at the same time?

ollie

sounds like a plan!!

_X_

When he said these things happen sometimes to that cashier in the grocery store, he didn’t expect them to happen all the goddamn time. Be it at his favourite café, on the street, or on the commuter rail, someone always, always, asks if he’s Pacer Wicks.

_X_

ollie

oof that hit from eriksen looks like it’s gonna leave a mark

pacer

yeah, half my face is swollen

ollie

yikes

pacer

i assume we’re still on for dinner in a couple of days right?

even if my stunning visage has been marred by the fists of a schooner

ollie

that was a very weird way of putting it

but yeah, i still wanna go out with you even if your face looks like a dodgeball

_X_

A girl taps him on the shoulder at Bitty’s Bites downtown. “Excuse me, are you Pacer Wicks?”

Ollie smiles sheepishly at her, brandishing his coffee cup with a scrawled Oily on it as if it might keep the Pacer Wicks fans away. “Sorry, you’ve got the wrong dude.”

He hurries out of there as quickly as his legs can take him after that, hands fumbling for his phone so that he can text Pacer about it.

ollie

jdshjkdsjh a girl just asked if i was you

pacer

oh?

ollie

yeah, i don’t really know why so many people ask if i’m you

especially as they usually ask when you’re on a roadie??

so i don’t get why they know who you are without knowing the falcs’ schedules

pacer

maybe they’re a fan of my dashing good looks rather than my hockey?

isn’t that why you agreed to go out with me after all?

Ollie grins to himself before sending back three words.

don’t push it

_X_

He’s less generous to the guy on the commuter rail, but in fairness that’s mainly because he stole the last seat just before Ollie could get there and it’s 6:30 in the morning.

“Hey, aren’t you that hockey pl-?”

Ollie barely looks up from his phone before cutting him off with a sharp “No.”

_X_

Today, someone even asks him at the flower shop.

“No,” he says, heaving the deepest sigh he can whilst still remaining in customer service mode, “I think Pacer Wicks might have other things to do on a Saturday afternoon than work the till at a flower shop.” He shuts the cash drawer on the register with a bang and hands the customer their change and bouquet as quickly as he can. “Thank you for shopping with us! Enjoy your day!”

He collapses back onto the wooden stool that he keeps behind the counter, taking a breather for approximately five seconds before a laugh echoes through the shop. Ollie jumps half a foot in the air before locating Pacer, who’s stood in the corner of the shop inspecting a piece of sea holly.

He’s dressed up pretty nicely considering hockey players’ notoriously bad fashion sense, wearing a button-up, a nice pair of jeans that do all the right things for his hockey butt, and his ever-present baseball cap, but this time, unlike his first visit to the shop, it’s sat backwards on his head. He spins around to face the back of the shop, grinning his face off. “I’m impressed by the fact that she asked you that whilst I was standing in the shop and she still didn’t notice me.” He laughs, smirking across at Ollie. “Does that happen often?”

“Yeah, some people are surprisingly oblivious sometimes,” he says, “but also, I don’t look that much like you?” He pauses, trying to work out what Pacer’s face means. He places his hands on his hips and jokingly rounds on Pacer. “Do I?”

Pacer chuckles, taking a few steps closer so that he’s leaning against the counter. “Not that much, but would it be so bad if you looked like me?” A mock-wounded expression plays across his features as he presses his hand to his chest.

Ollie takes off his apron and hangs it up behind the counter. “Nope, because you are extremely hot.” He threads his fingers through the hockey player’s belt loops to pull him closer, feeling emboldened by Pacer’s flirting. “And if that means that people are inadvertently calling me hot whilst asking if I’m you?” He shrugs. “I can live with it.”

Pacer has to lower his gaze to meet Ollie’s eyes, the two inch height difference between them clearly obvious, even if Ollie is six foot, thank you very much. “You were right about something though,” Pacer murmurs, “I do have better things to do than stand in a flower shop on a Saturday afternoon.”

“Like what?” Ollie raises an eyebrow.

Pacer smiles softly down at him, taking his hand and interlacing his fingers with Ollie’s. “Like taking the cute florist that works there on a date for starters.” Pacer starts to move them towards the shop’s entrance. “There’s this lit-” He sneezes abruptly.

Ollie tilts Pacer’s head downwards. “That’s like the fourth time you’ve sneezed in the shop.” He rubs his thumb over his cheek, frowning when he sees that Pacer’s eyes are slightly red. “Are you okay?”

Pacer waves him off. “Yeah, it’s fine; my antihistamines just wore off.”

His-? Ollie furrows his eyebrows before leading his date out of the shop. “Pacer, are you allergic to flowers?”

“No?” Pacer’s sheepish and slightly bunged up reply says everything that Ollie needs to know.

“Fuck, Pace, why have you been coming to the shop so much if you’re allergic? Surely you don’t like the aesthetics of flowers that much that you need to torture your sinuses every spare minute of the day.” Ollie pinches the bridge of his nose, voice full of exasperation.

Pacer holds his hands up in surrender. “In my defence, the first few times were because I did need to buy Ma flowers, but I didn’t keep coming back because the flowers were pretty.” He pulls Ollie close and frames his face with his hands. “I came back because the florist was.”

_X_

The final time Ollie is mistaken for Pacer is five years later as he’s heading towards the arena for Pacer’s final game of the season. In fairness, dressed in a Wicks jersey and a Falcs snapback, he probably looks more like Pacer now than he has at any time since he first got mistaken for him in the grocery store.

“Excuse me?” A teenager taps him on the shoulder, their arm slung around a friend. “Are you Pacer Wicks?”

Ollie grins at the kid. “Nope,” he says, trying not to take too much joy in the hope fading from the fan’s eyes before he drops the bombshell, “I am his husband though.”

“Really?” The teenager’s eyes light up. “You’re not kidding, right?”

“Nope.” Ollie holds up his phone screen to show the kid a photo of Pacer kissing his cheek, just so that they know he’s not lying. “D’you wanna meet him after the game?” He smirks at them. “After all, I do know a guy.”

#the formatting's kinda whack #but it's late #so i'll format it properly when i post it on ao3 tomorrow #ollie and wicks #my writing #omgcp #it's like 3k i'm so sorry

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sincerelyella · 3 years

Text

It’s Your Love - happy birthday Burnsy!

Book: The Royal Romance (AU)

Pairings: Drake x OC (Alyssa); Liam x MC (Ella)

Song Inspiration: It’s Your Love by Tim McGraw & Faith Hill

Characters belong to Pixelberry; OC Alyssa Devereaux belongs to my sister @burnsoslow; Ella Brooks belongs to me.

Summary: The gang coordinates a surprise for Alyssa’s birthday.

A/N: It’s my Burnsy’s birthday and I’m sure everything I’m going to say she already knows! Firstly, I’m so sorry I changed my mind about which AU and which song for this fic like 47545024 million trillion times. Burns just freaking gets me mmkay? She’s my nakie twin, my soul sister, my football bestie and my biggest cheerleader. GUYS! Idk how I could have gotten through this year without her checking in on me, our football conversations or her amazing (and haaawwwwt) fics. Some dialogue in this fic, btw, was taken from a conversation we really had (and as usual, she is hilarious).

Burns, you know that I love you a BUTT TON and I will fight ANYBODY for you (where’s my vaseline?!) Thank you for always being in my corner, for giving me SEVERAL pep talks this year (because I’m dramatic), for believing in me when I sometimes didn’t believe in myself, and for loving me SO HARD. I really hope you have an amazing day and you enjoy your bday dessert and that you like this little fic.

-> please note, this is a rereblog and I am adding this fic to my ML. Today is not actually our sweet Burnsy’s birthday even though we would all like it to be lol

A/N2: This is set in The Loft AU by the way! Check it out here if you haven’t seen these guys’ shenanigans.

Warnings: Adult language, sexual innuendos, and major fluff guys!! The birthday girl wanted to be swooned and I will do my damndest to give her whatever she wants today.

Thank you so much @alyssalauren for letting me vent and letting me harass you with my whining … and listening to me change my mind about this for WEEKS - and also prereading for me along with @ofpixelsandscribbles. I love you guys so much!

Words: 3149 (oops)

Alyssa was not feeling well. The more she coughed, the more she felt like death. “Oh, God, I feel like my brain is going to explode into itty bitty pieces,” she moaned with her arm draped over her face.

Drake bit his lip in an effort to stop a chuckle. She’s so fucking cute, and whiny. But cute. “Baby, it’s just a cold, you’ll be fine.” He slid onto their large king-sized bed and began to rub her lower back.

“It’s not! It’s the plague! Those kids at school don’t cover their mouths and sneeze up into the air! Like, I can see particles of their spit, just wafting,” she complained as she waved her hand in the air, mimicking the particles. “I bet you it landed on me or I inhaled that shit and now, look at me!” Her cute nose was reddened slightly from blowing out copious amounts of snot. She was seriously thinking about shoving some tissue in each nostril just to make sure nothing dripped.

Drake moved his hands upward and massaged her shoulders gently. “I can make you some soup,” he nibbled on her earlobe. “And make you feel … relaxed.”

“Mmmm,” she shivered at his words and sniffled. “Yes, baby, make me feel relaxed!”

A little while later

After Drake’s impressive two hour session of making Alyssa feel better, loud knocks sounded at their bedroom door.

“Lyssa!” Ella bellowed. “Lyss, you’re not answering my phone calls! Are you dead?!”

“No,” she croaked from the bed and stifled a laugh when Drake tripped trying to put on his boxers. “I was just getting my back blown out by my hot boyfriend.”

“Ew, TMI! Okay, are you covered up? I’m coming in!”

“No!” Drake yelled as he hurriedly threw on his pants. “Do not come in here, Brooks! I’m fucking naked!”

“Like I haven’t seen a naked man before,” Ella pushed open the door and rolled her eyes at Drake. “You aren’t even naked, Walker, get a grip.”

“No damn privacy around here,” he grumbled as he looked for a shirt in the closet.

“Hi!” Alyssa called out hoarsely from the bed as she tucked her comforter around her naked body. “I didn’t go to work today, I felt like death was coming for me.”

“I could hear you coughing from the kitchen. So, your blood pressure and that gnarly cough you have are what’s concerning me.”

“Yeah,” Lyss frowned and sniffed. “The cough is rough.”

“And gunky huh? Are you spitting up weird colored stuff?”

“No, it's clear and phlegmy!”

Ella narrowed her eyes on her best friend. “Lyss, did you take your blood pressure today?”

“I … umm no, I don’t like the machine.”

Ella let out a sigh. “You have to babe!”

Lyss’s bottom lip quivered. “I get scared my arm will explode.”

“Lyssa.”

The lip quiver always works with Drake. “… yes?”

“Your arm won’t explode.”

“If it malfunctions it could!”

Ella rubbed her hands over her face. “Alyssa!”

“In one of the Halloween movies, Michael Myers killed someone in the hospital by putting a BP cuff around their neck and pumping it until their head exploded!”

“What the fuck? Okay, no more Halloween movies for you!”

“But-”

“It’s not going to explode, Alyssa. You need to take your blood pressure. Do I have to hogtie you?”

“No ma’am, I’m taller than you!”

“By ½ an inch!”

Ella switched tactics. “If you don’t do this, I’m going to get Drake on you.”

Lyss giggled. “That’s hardly a punishment.”

Ella’s eye twitched and Alyssa held back a laugh.

After another 10 minutes, Alyssa finally agreed to only check her blood pressure if Ella did it for her and Drake had to hold her hand. Once the numbers were acceptable to Ella, Alyssa added to her terms. “Also, I want chicken noodle soup and those little soup crackers” - she sniffled - “and coffee.”

“Why not tea? That’s better I think,” Ella brushed some hair off of her best friend’s forehead.

“Coffee.”

“Cream isn’t a good idea for-”

Drake gave Ella a look.

“I mean … sure!”

“I’ll get started on that, baby,” Drake leaned over to kiss his girlfriend on top of her head. “Be right back.”

Ella waited until he closed the bedroom door behind him. “Lyssa.”

“Hmm?” She was already settled into the fluffy pillow and her eyes fluttered shut.

“Do you have a fever?” Not waiting for an answer, Ella leaned forward and felt Alyssa’s forehead with the back of her hand.

“Nu-uh,” Lyss mumbled and coughed.

“Lyss?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t you want to put on some clothes?”

“Mmm, nope, I’m good naked.”

Ella chuckled. “Okay.”

She stood and left Lyss alone to rest. Ella wandered into the kitchen to find Liam and Drake as they stared into a large pot of broth.

“Is she asleep?” Drake asked while he stirred.

“Yep, she’s passed out,” Ella peered into the pot. “You need to add more onions.”

Drake tasted the broth again and shrugged. “Okay, more onions it is.”

Liam handed Drake the bowl of green onions. “So, what do you have planned for her birthday? Are you proposing yet?”

“I had planned to take her to the park and have a picnic,” Drake paused as he tasted the broth again from the ladle. “But seeing as how she’s not wanting to leave the bedroom, I might have to rethink my plan.”

“Hmmm,” Liam tapped his fingers over his mouth. “Why don’t you just have a picnic in the bedroom with her?”

“I guess,” Drake frowned. “That’s not very romantic.”

“You’re trying to be romantic, Walker?” Leo said as he walked into the kitchen with Maxwell with several bags from Nordstrom.

“Yeah, I am, if you must know.”

“I can help you out!” Leo’s wide grin made Drake narrow his eyes.

“What’s in it for you, Rys?”

“Oh, I just love helping my friends! Let me put all my stuff down in the bedroom, I’ll be right back.”

As soon as Leo was out of earshot, Drake hissed. “I don’t trust him!”

“I know,” Max replied. “It’s Leo we’re talking about. After he saw the movie Titanic he started the Billy Zane fan club.”

Ella stopped washing the dishes in the sink and turned. “Wait, what?!”

“Yeah,” Liam added. “Look it up, they’re called the Zaniacs.”

“Why does that make me angrier than anything he’s ever done?!”

Liam shrugged. “He also roots for Billy Zabka’s character in The Karate Kid.”

“Alright, guys! It’s romance time!” Leo announced as he came back to the kitchen.

Three days later

Leo, Maxwell, and Liam were busy setting up things for Drake and Alyssa’s outing at the beach.

“Why is Ella not helping us?” Maxwell huffed as he and Leo carried large boxes of twinkling lights.

“She’s here for Lyss, and to make sure Walker doesn’t sweat too much and get dehydrated,” Leo laughed as all three looked at Drake in the kitchen pacing back and forth.

“Fuck you guys,” his chocolate brown hair a mess after running his fingers through them more times than he can count. “I’m just … nervous.”

“Yeah, we can see that,“ Leo cackled as they walked out into the hallway and waited for the elevator.

“It’s going to work,” Liam reassured his best friend as he grabbed the guitar by the door and followed Max and Leo out.

“Drake, it’s going to be fine,” Ella put her hands on his shoulders to stop him from wandering around the kitchen; it was making her dizzy. “Liam is the King of Romance. Don’t listen to Leo, Alyssa is going to say yes.”

“How do you know that?” He began to babble and couldn’t stop himself. “What if this is too soon? What if she hates my singing? What if she says no?”

“You should be worried about whether she’ll get out of bed,” Ella looked towards the bedroom door.

“Oh my God, is she still in bed?!” He inhaled too quickly and began to cough.

“Okay, Walker, I was kidding. You know she adores you. She said ‘I love you’ first for crying out loud,” she gave him a concerned look. “Are you getting sick?”

“No, I don’t … get sick,” he sputtered as he continued to cough.

“Well you are pretty delicate, maybe you should slow down.”

He waved off her comment as his coughs began to dissipate. “I’m not delicate, I’m just” - he lowered his voice to a whisper yell - “proposing to my girlfriend and I don’t even know if she’s going to like this damn plan!”

Ella rolled her eyes. “Okay, so let’s just forget that you got sick watching Frozen.”

Drake glared. “No. I did not.”

“You also got a nosebleed watching Up,” she smirked.

“Oh my God, will you ever let that go?!”

Ella let out a chuckle. “Okay, fine then, why don’t you go and take a shower?”

“I already did,” Drake looked down at his sweat-stained shirt.

“Yeah, why don’t you go and take another one.”

He nodded. “Be right back.”

30 minutes later

“El! I need help!”

“Lyssa? What’s wrong?” Ella let herself into the bedroom Alyssa and Drake shared.

“My sinuses hurt and I dropped my dress and my book on the floor.”

“Okay?”

“Can you pick it up for me? It hurts to bend over.”

Ella hid a smile and bent to pick up Alyssa’s black dress and her book titled Remember Two Things. “I’ve been meaning to read this, how is it so far?”

“Oh it is so good,” Lyss put the book on her nightstand and pulled the dress over her head. “I’m at chapter 18 and these two have been in love since college-”

“No spoilers! I’m going to read it after you,” Ella found Lyss’ shoes under the bed and helped her put them on. “You take that medication I gave you?”

“The pill was too big.”

“Alyssa!”

“I’m kidding, yes, I took it,” she dimpled. “It was a gel capsule.”

Ella let out a sigh of relief. “Okay, good. You don’t need your sinuses to act up while you’re out.”

“Where is he taking me?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

Alyssa pouted. “No, I don’t.”

Drake appeared in the doorway with a brand new shirt that was miraculously dry. “Ready baby?”

“Yeah, I’m ready,” she stood and wrapped her arms around her best friend. “Thank you for helping me!”

Ella shooed the couple out the door and quickly called Liam to let them know they were on their way.

***

“Baby, why did you take another shower?” Alyssa eyed Drake’s damp hair.

“I … slipped in something Max spilled on the floor in the kitchen.” Fuck, I suck at lying.

“Oh,” Lyss chewed on her bottom lip and studied Drake’s side profile as he drove his truck through the streets of Los Angeles. “I was thinking … you’ve taken such good care of me while I’ve been whiny and sick and I wanted to thank you.”

“Of course, I care about you.”

“I love you, baby, I feel like we’re so good together.”

“We are, Lyss, I love you too,” he reached over and intertwined his fingers with hers.

Drake slowly pulled the truck into a parking spot and turned off the engine. “Come on, I have something I want to show you.”

Alyssa nodded. She hopped out of the car and took Drake’s outstretched hand as he led her into a walkway with arching shrubs above them. “What is this place?”

“It used to be a secret spot I went to when I was single,” he glanced down at her while she stared up at the greenery in awe. “I would just come down here to be alone.”

Suddenly, the archway lit up in thousands of little twinkling lights that illuminated their way down to the end of the walkway. “Oh my God,” Alyssa squealed. “I love this so much, it’s beautiful!” They came to the end of the lights and began to walk onto sand.

“Only a little bit further,” Drake mumbled as he took in the ocean, then focused his gaze on the large purple blanket that was sprawled out on the sand a few yards in front of them.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a little picnic the guys set up for us,” he gave Alyssa a nervous smile. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes! What’s for dinner?”

“Taco pizza and for dessert,” Drake excitedly climbed onto the blanket after removing his shoes. “S’mores brownie pie.”

“S’mores?!” Alyssa peeked into the large basket that held the pie. “Can we eat dessert first?”

Drake let out a loud laugh. “Whatever you want, baby it’s your birthday.”

Lyss opened the box where the taco pizza sat and she inhaled deeply. “Oh, no, we’re eating this first.” She grabbed a plate and separated two pieces, one for her, one for Drake.

“Thank you.”

They settled into a comfortable silence as they watched the waves cascade over the sand; the sun was slowly fading, disappearing behind the ocean, leaving its yellow-orange coloring over the blue hue of the water. Alyssa was sitting in between Drake’s legs, her back against his chest.

“This hit the spot,” she patted her stomach. “Taco pizza just like in Remember Two Things.”

“That’s where I got the idea from,” he kissed her on top of her head. “You told me how taco pizza sounded amazing and I had to get that for you.”

“You are amazing,” she leaned her head back and touched her lips to his. “Is that a guitar? Why didn’t I notice that before?”

Drake’s face turned a bright shade of red. “Uh, yeah, I had Liam bring his guitar out here.”

“Do you” - she pulled away from him and turned all the way around with widened eyes - “do you play guitar, baby?”

He nervously scratched the back of his neck. “I … Well, sort of. Liam taught me when we were teenagers.”

“That is so hot,” Lyss mumbled and she bit her bottom lip. “Will you play for me?”

Drake nodded. “Hopefully I’m not too rusty, it’s been years.”

“I know I will love it.”

Drake picked up the acoustic guitar behind him and began to tune it. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he went through each string and turned the knobs in turn. Alyssa watched as he dug into his jean pocket and pulled out a guitar pick. How is a man with a guitar so sexy?

“Here goes nothing.”

He strummed the guitar and smiled when it didn’t sound off-key. He took in a deep breath and began to sing.

Dancing in the dark, Middle of the night

Taking your heart, And holding it tight

Emotional touch, Touching my skin

And askin' you to do, What you've been doing

All over again

Alyssa was taken aback. She had no idea he played guitar or sang a note until today. Drake Walker singing country music just did something to her; not to mention the fact that she loved this song.

Oh, it's a beautiful thing, Don't think I can keep it all in

I just gotta let you know, What it is that won't let me go

She couldn’t stop herself, she started to sing along with him. It was a duet anyway.

It's your love, It just does something to me

It sends a shock right through me, I can't get enough

And if you wonder, About the spell I'm under

Oh it's your love

Their eyes were locked as they sang together. Alyssa harmonizing with him made his stomach do flip flops. He was a nervous wreck just thinking about singing and playing this damn guitar in front of her. But once she started to sing, he wanted to stop so he could hear her angelic voice instead of his rough one.

“Drake?”

Her voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize I stopped.”

“That was so beautiful,” Lyss’ eyes were full of unshed tears. “I had no idea you could sing, baby.”

“I’m sorry I stopped, I wanted to hear your voice instead of mine.”

“Come on, let’s keep going!”

“I … I wanted to ask you something first.”

“Okay, what’s up?”

He set the guitar down on the blanket next to him and reached into his other pocket. “Lyssa,” he pulled out a black velvet box but didn’t open his hand just yet. “I wanted to make your birthday special, and I was so fucking nervous because I didn’t know if you’d like all this.”

“Anything we do together I love, baby,” she grasped his free hand with both of hers. “Don’t ever think I won’t like something you plan for us.”

Drake nodded. “I love you and I chose that song because it’s your love that keeps me wanting to wake up every morning,” he opened his left hand and she saw the box in his hand.

“Is that …”

“Alyssa Devereaux,” Drake opened the ring box and there sat three round diamonds on a gold setting. “Will you marry me?”

The tears were falling and one hand was clamped over her mouth in shock. She was crying so hard and overwhelmed with so much emotion that she struggled to speak. “Y-yes, Drake, yes!”

Drake’s entire face lit up at her words; he slid the ring on her finger and leaned over to kiss her. “Do you have any idea how happy you’ve made me?”

Cheers erupted from behind some bushes behind them, and the couple turned in surprise. Leo, Maxwell, Liam, and Ella jumped out, all with their phone cameras pointed in Drake and Lyss’s direction.

Drake scowled. “What the fuck?”

“Guys!” Alyssa jumped up and waved her left hand in the air. “We’re engaged!” Ella pulled her in for a big hug and the two of them began jumping up and down.

“Nice going, Walker,” Leo smirked as he shoved the last piece of taco pizza in his mouth. “You still sing real pretty too, just like in middle school.”

“Fuck off, Rys,” Drake snarled.

“You did good, brother,” Liam stepped forward and pulled his best friend in for a manly hug.

Drake gave him a half-smile. “Thanks for setting this up, and for all your help, Li. I know Twiddle-Dumb and Twiddle-Dee didn’t help much.”

Liam shrugged. “They picked up your pizza and pie. Got one for themselves while we were waiting for you to pop the question.”

“Taco pizza is the bomb,” Maxwell announced with a mouth full of food. “You guys are engaged! When’s the wedding?!”

“We’re still on cloud nine from being engaged, Max,” Alyssa chuckled. “We’ll all plan it out when we’re ready.”

“All of them?” Drake asked incredulously as the gang began to clean up the picnic area. “All of them are helping us plan?”

“You’re stuck with us forever, gorgeous,” Leo called out to Lyss. “You sure that’s what you want?”

Alyssa looked over at her fiancé, who just so happened to look at her. “I am so sure.”

#It's Your Love #a Burnsy birthday fic #via The Loft gang #oh no my hole #all the holes #they totally coke canned it #hey soul sister #my nakie twin's bday fic #nakie twins #trr fanfic #trr fandom #choices trr #trr #choices the royal romance #choices trr au #Drake x Alyssa #Liam x Ella

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kitkatfandomgirl · 4 years

Note

Hey! May I request a Newt Scamander taking care of a reader with a cold? :D

Soup for the Soul

This request is from some time ago but I did it! Sorry for taking so long.

Your head throbbed as you woke up from your slumber. The morning sunlight your curtains didn't block out was still far too much for your eyes and you squinted at the light. You sat up on the side of your bed, took a deep breath from your stuffed and runny nose, and stretched out your stiff achy muscles. You didn't have time to be sick, not today. Rising from the warm surface, you shuffled your way across the floor and found your alarm clock. You turned off the device and gently waddled to the bathroom where you brushed your teeth and began your morning routine, fighting back the fog of symptoms that surrounded you.

Taking a long, final swig of your morning (coffee / tea / water) as a final attempt to clear your head and finishing your eggs, you whipped out your wand and apparated to work. Walking was going to be far too much effort today.

The world warped around you and with a rush of wind, your surroundings soon changed from your flat to Newt’s basement. You felt dizzy and your legs wavered as you realized what a bad idea that was. Quickly, you found your strength and called out, "Morning Newt, sorry I was running late!" You cringed at how hoarse your voice sounded and suddenly sneezed. Ignoring it, you tied the apron around your waist and began to help feeding the usual crowd of beasts.

Your boyfriend's voice slowly became louder as he neared, "(Y / N)! Is that you?"

"No. I'm a random stranger come to happily feed premium grade medicated insect mush to this augurey"

"Oh, come on!" He groans with a playful chuckle, wrestling the several baby nifflers in his arms. You put down the bucket of food and take off the thick gloves to take two from him and help hold them so they could be put back in their cage.

"I see someone got out overnight;" you chuckled softly, coughing over your shoulder as the nifflers attempted to hang onto the locket around your neck. Once they caught sight of their shiny home, they scurried in and Newt's bunch did the same. He looked at you with concern as he locked the door.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine as ever!" A lie

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah!" Also a lie. Your body called you out on your bullshit and forced the tickle in your nose to develop into three loud sneezes that rocked your entire body. You shook your head and tried to excuse yourself. "I'm great! Fit as a fiddle"

"No you're not, (Y / N)."

"Newt I swear l'm fine. You don't have to worry about me." You turned your back and returned to the bucket, putting your gloves on and lifting it up. Everything suddenly felt heavier. With a gentle wave of your wand, the pail was full of the food for the sick mooncalf that had come from Newt's herd in his case. Your body shivered as sweat you hadn't noticed slowly collected on your forehead. “Here ya go ..." you quietly tipped the bucket into the bowl the creature had been eating from. Your arms quivered from the weight.

A warm hand met your forehead. "(Y / N) you're burning up. Please-"

"Newt. Please don't worry about me." You beg gently, moving your face away, turning around, and looking at Newt, "What still needs to be done?"

With a heavy sigh, Newt closed his eyes, "the kelpie could use some more ointment but you shouldn't have to worry about that. You are sick. Let me help you, please"

You shook your head and carried on, "Newt l'll be fine. We need to- “you were cut off by a coughing fit. Your wind was very suddenly pulled out of your body along with any strength you could have managed to hold onto. Newt practically leaped forward in case you fell as the worry that creased his brow deepened. You quickly sat down to accommodate the spinning in your head.

"(Y / N), I'm not taking no for an answer this time. We need to take care of you now so you can worry about this later. "He gently takes the bucket out of your hands and peels the gloves off of them. Gently, he helps you stand back up and heads toward the upper level of his home with you. He keeps next to but also slightly behind you, unsure of how much he could trust your legs at this point.

Once you were safely sat on the couch with a blanket over your shoulders, he put your wand on the side table and disappeared into the kitchen. You soon heard clanging and then running water. The click of the stovetop turning on soon wavered through the house, which shortly fell quiet.

You either zoned out or fell asleep, but a gentle tap on the shoulder woke you up and the aroma of your favorite soup adorned the house. Newt helped you sit up before handing you a bowl and spoon, which you thanked him for. He sat near your feet on the couch with a bowl of his own and stared at you intently before nudging you softly, “Eat. You’ll feel much better.”

You playfully glared at him and took a spoonful. Already, the subtle steam from the bowl had made it easier to breathe from your nose, and your muscles (while still stiff) relaxed with the comfort the soup provided. “I’m not one of your creatures, I can take care of myself Newt.” You interjected, breaking the comfortable silence between you two.

“I know,” he helped himself to more soup, “I just wanted to because I care about you.” You paused, staring at each other and smiling softly. Newt placed his spoon in his bowl and tilted his head to better look at you, his head on his free hand, “besides, you won’t even admit you have a cold, let alone give yourself enough of a break to help yourself.”

You stuffed your mouth with another spoonful to avoid having to answer as your face blushed. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you had a cold, and as much as you didn’t like to think about it, Newt was right. Idle conversation that escaped your memory filled the space between you two, nothing groundbreaking was said, no plans were made, yet it made you feel a little better from the inside out. Your voice soon got scratchy so you both opted to stay quiet for some time and finished your soup in silence. The meal sent a warmth to your core that relaxed your soul. “How did you make this soup? It was so good.”

“I made it without magic and just threw it together, so if you think it’s good, you need to try Queenie’s soups, she knows how to cook.”

“No, I think I like it this way. Not every thing has to be magic. It tastes like home,” you say smiling.

“It is the best of the food I’ve made, maybe it is something about doing it on your own.” You both trailed off into quiet thought once more. Your hand found Newt’s and you gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Since I’m not going to be of much use today, I might just go back to my flat after this,” you said quietly.

“If you promise me you’re going to rest and you feel up to it, I think that would be a good idea.” You went to put the dish in the sink, but Newt jumped up and took it, washing both before putting them away. You thought to say something, but couldn’t completely grasp what it had been.

You felt yourself melt into the sofa a little more with each second, fighting the strong urge to close your eyes and sleep. When Newt returned once more, he looked at your half-asleep form and sighed, “you’re in no condition to go home like this.”

“Nonsense, Newt,” your body betrayed you once more with a brief sneeze fit and a long yawn.

“Point proven,” he said, sitting back down on the couch to look at you. “After I finish with the creatures, I’m going to get you some things to spend the night here tonight from your flat.”

“Newt, I would kiss you if I weren’t concerned about getting you sick right now.” You murmured playfully.

“All the more reason for you to get better.” He said with a smile, “now get some sleep.”

This time, you didn’t have to fight back and you let yourself get some well-needed rest.

#sick reader #newt x reader #newt scamander #newt scamander x reader #fantastic beats and where to find them #fbawtft #fbcog #crimes of grindelwald #newt #x reader #magic #nifflers #cold

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tacticaldiary · 3 years

Text

A Little Too Perfect

Pairing: Reader x Sugawara Koushi

Genre: Fluff. Pure, tooth-rotting fluff.

Turns out, cooking pasta together is a pretty good way to gauge how unbelievably perfect your boyfriend is. She feels like the luckiest person on Earth.

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

He watches her dance around for a solid few minutes, smiling fondly at the sight. This was one of the rare moments Sugawara saw the love of his life completely off guard. Y/N hadn’t noticed him enter the kitchen, the music from her earphones drowning out any outside sounds. She was getting ready to cook dinner, he assumed. Pushing himself off the doorframe, Sugawara slowly makes his way behind her and wraps his arms around her middle, hugging her from behind.

He snickers when she jumps and yanks the earphones out of her ears.

“K-Koushi!” she exclaims, turning around in his grasp and smacking his chest with a wooden spoon. “You scared the hell out of me.” she pouts.

He laughs. “That was kinda the point, love.” he gives her a sweet smile and boops her nose. Looking over her shoulder at the various pots and pans and ingredients set out on the counter, he clicks his tongue.

“I thought I told you I was going to make us dinner tonight.” he raises an eyebrow.

“You did...but I was bored and wanted to help”

“Are you sure?” he tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“I don’t mind.”

“Alrighty then.” He leans in and kisses her forehead quickly, before pulling away and rolling up his sleeves. “Pasta?”

“Pasta.” Y/N nods, a little red in the face.

They fall into a comfortable silence, as Sugawara starts cutting up the chicken and Y/N starts dicing the vegetables. When he starts humming softly to himself, Y/N starts to sneak glances at him. Her mind starts to wander and she can’t help but admire how perfect he is. A little too perfect. It almost seemed too good to be true. How she had ended up with someone like him still baffled her.

The more she thought about it, the more curious she got. There had to be something he wasn’t good at, some kind of flaw. Scraping the vegetables into a bowl, she decides to test her theory. No time better than the present, right?

“Could you put the water on boil?”

She hums in response and moves over to fill the pot of water. Placing it on the stove, she pauses, before turning it on to the lowest setting. Going back to chopping vegetables, she sees him move to check on the water about 10 minutes later. Tilting his head in confusion when Sugawara notices it still hasn’t boiled, he shrugs and leaves it alone, giving it more time. He waits by the stove with the bowl of uncooked pasta, patiently, turning to Y/N to ask her about her day. Y/N keeps track of the time and about 20 whole minutes later, the water finally boils and Sugawara grins and puts the pasta to cook. While he’s busy, a small ‘ding’ from beside Y/N makes him glance towards her.

“Could you see who that is, love?”

“Yep!” she calls back, typing in his passcode. “It’s Daichi, asking for the...” she scrolls down, “-new plays you’ve been working on?”

“Oh, I forgot about that. Uh...Tell him I’ll get those to him later.”

Y/N nods and types out the message, before moving back into the kitchen.

Patient? Trustworthy? Check.

Hiding a small smile, Y/N focuses on dicing the bunch of tomatoes they needed. A few minutes of silence go by, before she feels something itchy on her leg, she looks down and drops the knife in horror, letting out a screech.

Sugawara nearly gets whiplash with how fast he turns around.

“Y/N?!” he moves to her, worried. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” He eyes the knife.

“Get it off, GET IT OFF!” she shrieks, clenching her eyes shut, not wanting to see the large spider crawling up her calf. The boy lets out a sigh of relief. It was just a spider. With the way she screamed, he’d though she cut off an arm or something.

“Stay still.” He looks around and grabs a glass and a piece of paper, easily scooping the little creature off her leg, trapping it in the glass. “It’s just a spider.” he chuckles, showing her the glass, to which she scrunches her nose in disgust and looks away.

He laughs, “I’ll set this little guy free outside. Wouldn’t do much good to kill him.” he says over his shoulder as he leaves to do just that.

Shuddering a little, Y/N turns back to the tomatoes.

“You okay? It didn’t bite you, did it?” he comes back inside with an empty glass.

Kind? Caring? Check.

She shakes her head. “I don’t think so. Spiders just freak me out.”

He hums, ruffling her hair affectionately. When she closes her eyes, he sneaks a chunk of tomato and pops it into his mouth. Shoving his hand away lightly, Y/N rolls her eyes and turns away.

“Aw, don’t be like that! I just saved you, you should be thanking me.” He jokes, letting her pass as she goes to wash the knife.

“My knight in shining armour.”

“I was thinking something more along the lines of ‘Prince Charming’.” he sneaks another few pieces. His luck runs out, however, as Y/N turns, catching him chewing.

“Are you...eating the tomatoes?” She puts a hand on her hip and raises an eyebrow. Instead of denying it, like she expected, he gives her a sheepish look and nods. “I like tomatoes, sue me!” he sticks his tongue out childishly.

Honest? Check.

“Honestly, I’m more disgusted at the fact that you like eating raw tomatoes.” she bats his hand away as he tries to grab another piece and places the chucks in a saucepan.

“Hey, tomatoes are great!” he moves to strain the pasta, staring at the tomato filled pot dejectedly.

“Gross. You’re gross.”

“I’m hurt, Y/N”

“That was the point, love” she mimics his voice from before and is rewarded with an amused snort.

“Touche.” Setting the pasta aside, he grabs the box of cornflour and reaches over to grab the pot with the sauce. He reaches over Y/N’s shoulder to get it, and the box bumps against her back. He rightens it quickly, preventing it from toppling all over her. When she doesn’t notice, he’s struck with an idea. A playful smile growing on his face, he taps her on the shoulder, prompting her to turn around.

“Koushi-?” She’s cut off when he shakes some of the powder in her hair, dusting it white. Her indignant protest is cut off with a small sneeze, which Sugawara finds adorable.

“See? We match now!” he points to his hair.

“You’re hair’s grey not-”

“Nope! We match.” he insists. “Guess we were meant to be.”

Y/N rolls her eyes and spots the half-full box behind him. SHe pushes down a smirk and steps closer to him. His hands instinctively move to her waist, and he looks down at her.

“Maybe you’re right. We were meant to be.” She gives him a sweet smile which has his breath hitching in his throat ,as he leans in a little closer. The smile soon turns into a smirk, however, as she quickly grabs the box and tips the entire contents over his head, leaving him coughing and spluttering.

“Now we match.” she laughs, dusting her clothes.

“You just-” he cuts himself off with a sneeze, before bursting into and adorable fit of giggles. “You’re right. Now we match.”

Playful? Good sense of humor? Check.

This was the turn of events that lead to them sitting at the table with bowls full of pasta, covered in cornflour. As they talk and eat, Y/N notices yet another thing about Mr. Perfect Boyfriend. The whole time, his attention was solely on her.

He looked at her like she was the only thing worth looking at, and it made her heart flutter.

Sighing, she puts her fork down and crosses her arms, alarming Sugawara.

“Is everything al-”

“How are you literally perfect?” she confronts him.

It takes a few moments to process her words, but when he’s successful, heat starts creeping up his neck.

“I mean, you're literally the perfect partner. How did I end up here? How did I get this lucky?”

“Well,” he puts his fork down and gives her a sweet smile, “You deserve perfection. Nothing less.” he gently grabs her hand across the table and runs his thumb over her knuckles.

“No, but-”

“It goes both ways. You’re perfect in my eyes.”

“This is what I’m talking about! It’s not fair.” she pouts, looking away.

“Not fair?” he tilts his head, a fond smile playing on his face.

“You can’t make me fall for you harder by saying stuff like that. That’s not fair.”

He’s sure she could hear how fast his heart is beating now. Talk about being totally smitten.

“Well, what can I say? It’s my natural charm.” he jokes.

“Unfortunately, it is.”

He laughs, and they go back to their dinner, keeping up the banter. They end up washing up together.

Both can’t help but think how unfair it is, the effect the other has on them, as they end up snuggling together on the couch.

Requests are Open and Welcome!

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cuddlepilefics · 3 years

Text

Not sleepy

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Felix

Caregiver: Seungmin

Noone’s POV.:

Chan stood in the kitchen sipping his morning coffee. Their schedule would be rather relaxed today. Dance practice till lunch, then they could split up to work on songs on their own or in smaller groups. He knew 3racha would be in the studio together and suspected the dance line and vocal line to form teams of their own. Most members were already up and had had breakfast before getting ready for the day. The only one still asleep was Felix and the leader thought if he didn’t wake up in the next five minutes, he’d have to wake the younger because he couldn’t let him go to dance practice without eating something first. His thoughts were interrupted when said younger Aussie walked into the kitchen, sleepily greeting the oldest with a low “Good morning.” Smirking Chan replied: “Sexy”, as he referred to the younger’s raspy morning voice. Felix offered a small smile before helping himself to some cereal. He gave a small cough, as the first bite irritated his scratchy throat before asking: “Hyung, what’s first today?” – “We’ll have dance practice till lunch. You should probably hurry a bit, since you slept almost thirty minutes longer than anyone else”, the leader replied, finishing his coffee and washing the cup. The younger’s eyes widened and his voice cracked, coming out much higher: “I did?”. Chan chuckled and sat down next to his dongsaeng. “We figured if you were still asleep, you needed it. I was about to wake you, just before you walked in. Don’t worry, we wouldn’t have let you run late”, he smiled, running his hand through Felix messy bed-hair. He kept the younger company while he ate and volunteered to wash Felix’ bowl so the other could get ready.

Dance practice had seemed like an impossible task to Felix that day. Sure, he usually loved to dance but he hadn’t properly woken up by the time they arrived at the practice room and the sleepy fog in his brain remained there for the rest of the day. No matter how hard the young dancer tried to focus on the music blasting through the speakers, he kept losing the beat. Chan called for a water break and everyone made their way towards there bags to get a drink. Not really paying attention to what he was doing, Felix bumped into Hyunjin, immediately apologizing. Bending over his own bag, he patted his cheeks a few times, hoping to shake himself out of it. He didn’t know why, but he just didn’t feel like himself today. The Aussie sat down against the wall and sipped on his waterbottle, sighing when the cool liquid hit his throat. It wasn’t particularly hurting but it had felt a bit irritated all morning. Sitting down sadly proved to be a mistake only a few minutes later, when Chan and Minho called them to their starting position to resume practice. The boy put his bottle away and pushed himself up but had to lean against the wall for a few more seconds as black spots danced inn his vision. The leader shot him a confused glance, which went unnoticed by the younger. It wasn’t like Felix to take this long to get back to practice. The dancer was usually very motivated to improve his moves, regardless of how tired he might be and he couldn’t possibly be tired after sleeping in that long.

They still had another two hours of dancing to complete before taking a break for lunch and Felix wasn’t improving at all. If anything, he kept messing up more than in the beginning. His head felt cloudy and spun every time he moved to fast, which happened quite often considering their choreography. His limbs felt heavy, barely following the instructions of his muddled brain, muscles burning as the dancer forced himself to move faster, more expressively. “Come on Felix, you’ve been sleeping soo long today. You can’t possibly be tired mate”, Chan sighed, slinging an arm over the younger’s shoulder as they walked to get some more water. The dancer was glad for the other’s touch because it kept him from running into things like he did earlier. He was a bit frustrated however, he knew he was letting his group down with how much mistakes he made. Truth was, the Aussie didn’t sleep nearly enough the previous night. He had been tossing and turning for most of the night, headache forming when he kept waking up only minutes after dozing off. The headache was still present and had only increased the longer he was awake. With the pounding behind his eyes, the dancer slowly felt his nose closing up and he struggled even more to dance, panting through his parted lips. He couldn’t breathe properly and the lack of oxygen only increased the dizziness. It seemed like a miracle that he made it through the entire practice without collapsing.

Packing up their things while discussing how to proceed with their day, Chan made it clear that 3racha would be in the studio working on some new tracks, which left the remaining five members to figure out what they wanted to do. “I wanted to work on my singing a bit so I was wondering if I could join Seungmin and Jeongin in one of the studios to practice vocals”, Felix asked, voice still raspy, since he barely spoke at all that day. Seungmin smiled at him but Minho didn’t seem too happy about it: “No offense, Lix. But you really have been lacking today. Hyunjin and I will be dancing for a bit longer and I think you could use some extra practice here.” – “Aish hyung, let him be. He was struggling more the longer we practiced. I don’t think he’ll be getting anywhere with his dancing today”, Hyunjin interjected after noticing the horrified expression on his dongsaeng’s face. “Hyungies, can I stay with you?”, the maknae beamed, earning a smile from everyone present. Minho was distracted from his frustration towards the youngest danceracha member, so he let Felix and Seungmin leave. After walking out, Felix shot Hyunjin a quick text, thanking the older for saving him because he was right, the Aussie wouldn’t be improving on his dance moves that day.

“Hey, what do you want to get for lunch or should we just go straight to singing?”, Seungmin asked. Not receiving an answer, he turned to find his hyung’s eyes unfocused, lips slightly parted before his head snapped towards the crook of his arm to catch two itchy sneezes. Felix looked back up, blinking away the irritated tears that had pooled in his eyes before looking at the younger: “Sorry *sniff* what was the question?” – “Bless you, the question was, what food or straight to practice”, the vocalist repeated. After a few seconds of contemplation, the dancer answered in a low voice: “I’m not really hungry right now, so we could just head to the studio or you choose something to eat if you’re hungry.” They decided to just practice their vocals for a while and get a bite to eat when they’d feel hungry later. The walk to the studio was silent except for some soft sniffles from Felix. The sneezes hadn’t helped the congestion in his nose in the slightest. “Hyung, watch out!”, Seungmin yelled, yanking him to the side, “What is it with you running into things today? First Hyunjin, now this doorframe…. You should really pay attention to where you’re going, y’know.” The other could only blink in confusion, everything had happened too fast for him to register. Seungmin let them into the studio, where they set their things down and pulled out some lyric sheets. Sitting down, Felix rubbed his fist against the spot between his eyebrows in hopes of easing the pressing ache there. All it did was wake the tingle at the back of his nose. Now that he thought about it, it had been there all morning. The dancer had no time to dwell on it, as he barely managed to press his sleeve to his nose in time to catch an urgent sounding sneeze. His dongsaeng, who tried to bless him, was cut of by another, harsher sneeze. “Done yet?”, the vocalist asked tentatively, watching his hyung shake his head with a distant look in his eyes. "hEGSHU! Ugh, sorry, I’m done now, I think.“ – “Bless!”, Seungmin said, wincing at how rough the other’s voice sounded after those sneezes, “Are you sure about singing today? Your voice doesn’t sound that great.” – “That is exactly why I need to practice”, Felix sniffled. “Hyung, that is not how I meant it and you know it. You sound sick”, the younger rolled his eyes.

They had a staring contest for a few minutes, which Felix was destined to lose due to another sneeze creeping up on him. He blew his nose a few times and sighed in defeat: “Singing is still better than dancing. I honestly thought I was going to die earlier.” Seungmin’s face softened and he rubbed the older’s shoulder, who tried to recover as much of his voice as possible by clearing his throat. “You know what Chan-hyung always says about pushing ourselves too hard when we’re sick. Maybe you should just go back to the dorm and rest”, the vocalist mused. Felix was quick to shake his head but when he spoke, his voice sounded weak and tired: “It’s not that bad, probably just a small cold if anything. I’ll be fine, plus Chan isn’t any better when it comes to pushing himself-“ The dancer’s voice cracked and he choked on a cough. Ignoring the small concerned crease forming on his dongsaeng’s forehead, he accepted the water Seungmin handed him. “How about this, I think I still have some cough drops in my bag. You’ll have one and relax, while I go over a few songs myself and then we’ll see how you’re doing”, the younger offered and luckily, his hyung agreed. Felix didn’t have that many options to be honest, his throat was left raw after his small coughing fit and he closed his eyes as the sweetness of the cherry cough drop coated it, taking some of the pain away.

He really didn’t mean to fall asleep and he had fought the heaviness in his head hard, but while listening to his dongsaeng’s smooth and soothing voice, his eyes kept closing. Felix repeatedly forced them open again till at some point, they just stayed shut. Breath puffing past his cracked lips, the Aussie dozed off, finally being pulled under by the fog in his head. Seungmin had finished his singing, eyes not leaving the other for a second as he watched his hyung struggle not to fall asleep. Collecting his lyric sheets, the vocalist walked over, studying the dancer’s peaceful face, frowning at the paleness that made the dark eyebags stand out. The Aussie truly looked sick, how could he not notice anything earlier when they were dancing? He reached out a gentle hand, brushing it against the older’s forehead, not surprised at the heat he found there. Sighing, Seungmin sat down and pulled out his phone:

Puppy

Hey hyung, Lix-hyung is sick and I wanted to ask if I could take him back to the dorm. I’ll be working on some lyrics there, so I won’t be completely useless.

Leader-hyung

Sure, you can. What’s up with him? You’d never be useless, Minnie!!!

Puppy

Probably just a cold. He’s coughing and I told him not to sing because his voice sounds pretty rough. I don’t think he can breathe through his nose at all and he has a fever.

Actually, he fell asleep while I practiced and he doesn’t know I’m texting you because he wouldn’t want to go home.

Leader- hyung

Is he putting on that whole ‘I’m fine’-act?

If he has a fever, please take him home and thank you for letting me know

Puppy

Yes, he is.

Wish me luck, that he doesn’t fight me too much when I wake him to go home

Leader-hyung

Just threaten to call me, or actually call me and I’ll tell him to go home

Puppy

Thanks, hyungie

Leader-hyung

See you at the dorm later.

Don’t worry too much about the lyrics either, just keep an eye on Lixxie for me please

Pocketing his phone, Seungmin went over to shake Felix’ arm, the Aussie blinking up at him dazedly. “Hyung, we’re going home”, he stated, slinging both of their bags over his shoulder. The older just watched him confused: “We – what? Where an’ why?” – “We are going back to the dorm because you are sick and need some rest”, the vocalist explained, slower this time. Noticing the hesitation in his hyung’s eyes, he added: “I already texted Chan-hyung, he said you should go back and I should call him if you fight me on this.” The dancer knew there was no use in putting up a fight, plus he felt ten times worse after his short nap and lying down sounded o soo tempting. With a small nod, he allowed his dongsaeng to pull him to his feet and stumbled along while the younger made sure he wouldn’t run into things again.

When the pair made it to their dorm, Felix was pretty much asleep on his feet, which worried Seungmin greatly. Despite his childish personality, the dancer was still a good hyung, who liked to seem strong in front of his two dongsaengs. They took of their shoes and the vocalist parked the older on the couch while he brought their bags to their rooms, changing and collecting a more comfortable set of clothes for his hyung. “Here, why don’t you get changed while I make us some soup for lunch. It’s been a while since breakfast”, the younger smiled, handing Felix the clothes he had picked out. He then went to the kitchen to cook a basic chicken noodle soup his mom had taught him. Soon he felt two arms around his waist and turned to the young Aussie next to him. “You don’t have to do that, Minnie, y’know. I’m ok”, Felix rasped, rubbing the back of his hand against his pink nose. While stirring the soup with one hand, Seungmin wrapped his other arm around his friend’s middle, pulling him into a hug and humming: “I’m not doubting that you’ll be ok, I just want you to feel a bit better now and if there is anything I can do to help you, I will do it, even if it’s small.” He then stepped away from the dancer to pour the soup into two bowl and grabbed chopsticks for himself and a spoon for Felix, in hopes the change of cutlery would make the older feel more at home. They went back to the living and got comfortable on the couch. Seungmin turned on some random drama playing on the TV for them to watch while they ate. “Wow, this tastes pretty good”, the dancer praised, making his dongsaeng blush. “Thanks, my mom taught me.”

Not long after, there bowls were stacked on the coffee table and the two continued to watch the drama in silence. “You should probably try to sleep some more, hyung”, the younger spoke up. Felix really yearned to take a nap, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He usually needed to cuddle someone when he slept and being sick only made him clingier but he couldn’t ask his dongsaeng to cuddle him. The vocalist had already done so much for him and the dancer would most definitely get him sick if he asked for cuddles, so he refused: “Nah, I’m good. Not sleepy yet.” All he got in return was a look that clearly stated ‘if you say so’. Stretching out on the couch, Seungmin pulled the older into a flat position with him and all too soon, Felix congested snores filled the room, while the Aussie cuddled into his dongsaeng’s side. The younger rolled his eyes with one hand tangled in his friend’s locks. ‘Not sleepy my ass’, he thought and continued to watch the drama while absentmindedly playing with his hyung’s hair.

#sick #sickfic #fanfic #fluff #cute #comfort #whump #cold #snz #skz #stray kids #lee felix #kim seungmin #seunglix

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littlekatleaf · 3 years

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The shape that I'm in now

(It's 1 am, I must be posting Roadrat snz fic. This takes place in the same 'verse as 'Buried in a burning flame' and 'My heart as spent as ashes, but takes place before them. Not that it's necessary for the story, just to orient.)

Whatever here that’s left of me Is yours just as it was ~ Hozier, As It Was

Junkrat rolled over, trying to ease the ache in his hip, but it didn’t help. Sheets scratchy on oversensitive skin. Eyes hot, dryer than the fuckin’ desert, nose running like to make up for it. Flipped the pillow, but both sides were already too warm. Everything hurt, from toenails to eyelids. Even his fucking missing limbs hurt, however the hell that worked. What sucked the most, though was the silence. It pulsed against his eardrums, buzzed in his head.

Had told Roadhog to go. No choice about it. Bones’d been aching with impending fever, head felt packed with sand. Knew what was coming and didn’t want Roadhog to see. Didn’t want to be seen. Not when felt like his skin was peeled back, leaving all of his quivering insides bare. Being sick was being vulnerable. In Junkertown being vulnerable meant you was good as dead.

Felt Roadhog watching him from the first handful of sneezes. “Nobody fuckin’ cleans this shithole,” Junkrat had grumbled, trying to play it off. Roadhog said nothing.

Didn’t say a word when Junkrat blamed the spices in the stir fry for the second fit.

Unfortunately the third handful of sneezes seemed to have blown all thoughts from his brain and he was still trying to recover when Roadhog asked, “All right, Rat?”

“‘M fine. If you want to get in my pants just say so.” Might have intended it to sound flirty but it came off pissy.

Roadhog crossed his arms over his chest. “Ain’t like that. You just look…” “Ain’t neither of us winning a beauty pageant, Hog. Mind your business.” Least that time sounded like maybe he could be joking, even with the edge in his voice.

Tried to bite the sneezes back after that. Pinch them off. Smother them in his sleeve. But every single time he felt Roadhog’s eyes on him, watching. Made the hairs raise at his nape and finally he snapped, shouting at Roadhog to get the fuck out and leave him alone.

Roadie had, and he was fine with it. Just perfectly fuckin’ apples, mate. Went to bed, tried to sleep it off. But couldn’t. Now he tossed back the sheets, pushed himself up, buckled on his prosthetics. Make himself tea. Caffeine might dull the headache. Heat’d feel good on his throat.

You wanted to be by yourself... teasing whisper of her voice through the buzzing. You told him to go. You should be happy - here all alone with your disease. Could practically feel her breath at his ear and he swayed for a minute, dizzy. He doesn’t want to be anywhere near you.

“Shows what you know. Roadhog likes it when I sneeze.” Hated how defensive it sounded. Proof that he was only good for one thing.

Perhaps, but this is beyond even his depravity. Look at yourself, Jamison.

Without really meaning to, his gaze flicked over to the mirror that hung above the washbasin, then away again. Not before he’d seen himself though - scarecrow hair, singed in more places than he’d realized, skin and bones, dark circles around his eyes, nose red, lips cracked from breathing through his mouth. Expression going blank as the need to sneeze came over him. “Huh-R’iiishh! Isshew! R’iishew!” Managed to catch them in a tissue at the last minute, but it was a close thing.

Disgusting. And weak. I absolutely cannot fathom why he has not left you behind yet. Ill so often. Missing half your limbs. In need of protection. What kind of man are you?

“Shut it,” he said. Much as hated to admit it, she was right. Knew full well all the ways he was lacking. Rubbed his dripping nose on a handful of tissues.

Perhaps he just enjoys toying with you. Drawing things out before he takes your treasure and returns to the Queen. Her tone is a purr. A predator does love to tease its prey.

“Roadhog ain’t the Queen’s. Not anymore.”

No? He told you that, did he?

“Yes.” Sort of. What had Roadhog said when they met? Freelance? What did that mean? He wouldn’t… would he? If he got pissed off enough? If Junkrat was enough of a pain in the ass? A sudden chill whipped through him and he shivered. Grabbed a windcheater off the hook on the back of the door and yanked it over his head. Roadie’s, he realized as the soft cotton engulfed him. At least he was warm. Tugged the hood up over his head. Maybe that would block out her voice.

Pathetic… The whisper echoed in his ears, then faded - taking his energy with it. Giving up on the tea plan he curled up in a corner of the couch. Pulled in his knees, tugged the windcheater down over him and tried to disappear. Just needed to get smaller. Smaller.

A sneeze jag shook him awake. Took him a second to catch his breath and open his eyes. There was Roadie, holding out a tissue. Didn’t want to take it, but the alternative was worse. And messier. “Thanks,” he said, stuffiness blurring the consonants. Blowing his nose helped, but only a little.

Roadhog didn’t say anything, just turned on his heel and disappeared into the kitchen. Kettle rattled, water hit the basin. Click snap of the flame catching on the stove. Clink of spoon against mug.

Apologize, Jamison. Unless you want to test his patience even further.

Don’t need your input, he said, but only in his head. Always weirded Roadhog out when he answered aloud. Cleared his throat, attempted to pitch his voice loud enough to carry, even though felt like he’d been swallowing sandpaper in his sleep. “Oi, Roadie?”

Nothing. Sighing to himself, Junkrat untangled his limbs, ignoring the shivering. Maybe Roadhog wouldn’t notice. Managed to reach the kitchen this time. Roadhog’s back was turned, head slightly bent over whatever he was doing.

Rat hesitated in the doorway. While his mouth usually moved faster than his brain, at the moment neither seemed to be online. He leaned against the jamb, waiting for inspiration to strike. Instead he sneezed, catching them in his sleeve, then coughing after. “Ugh, fuck. I’ll wash this I swear.”

“...” The skepticism was clear even without words.

“Ain’t gonna forget this time.”

“...”

Junkrat coughed a laugh. “Yeah, you’re right I probably will.” Rubbed the back of his neck where it ached. “Roadie, I’m…” sorry he was going to say but Roadhog turned, offering a steaming mug.

“I know. Drink.”

Couldn’t smell anything through his clogged nose so he sipped warily. Then sighed, relief and gratitude. “Where the hell’d you find Lemsip?”

“Bobby had some.”

“An’ he just gave it to you?” Meds were hard to come by, even stupid shit like cold medicine.

Roadhog shrugged. “He owed me somewhat.”

The steam made his nose run and tickle and he sniffled a little. Which only served to trigger another round of sneezes and he slopped hot liquid over his hand. “Ow, god fucking dammit.”

“Here, let me…” Roadhog reached for his hand, but he stepped back.

“No, it’s fine.”

“Rat. I said let me.”

The darkness of his tone sent a shiver down Rat’s spine. The command in it was as unmistakable as the warmth. Junkrat stopped, pinned, barely breathing. Roadhog wiped his hand, carefully, like the burn could have been serious. Then he laid a palm over Rat’s forehead, fingers pleasantly cool. Junkrat leaned into the touch.

“Really got a fever, don’t you.”

It wasn’t a question, exactly but Junkrat nodded anyway. “Feelin’ shit, to be honest.” A hot flush chased the chills. Had to tell Roadie the truth, but didn’t make it any easier.

“You hurting?”

Rat shrugged, nodded again.

“Come on,” Roadhog put an arm around him, led him back into the bedroom. “Lie down.”

“Ain’t tired,” he tried. Not quite enough energy to be a proper brat.

“Not planning on sleep. Lie down.”

Junkrat did as he was told, but closed his eyes as the bed dipped and Roadhog sat down beside him. With gentle fingers he disconnected Junkrat’s prosthetics and set them aside. Even though he’d only been wearing them a short time, they’d already rubbed sore spots on his skin. Roadhog knew to avoid those places as he began to massage the muscles in Rat’s forearm, kneading until the knots loosened, then moved on to Rat’s thigh.

As the tension drained away, Rat sighed so deep was almost a groan. “God, that’s good.” Roadhog let go of him, but didn’t move away. There was the soft sound of a jar being opened and a teasing scent of menthol that Rat could smell even through the congestion. Vicks, of course. “For the cough,” he asked, smirking.

“It’ll help,” Roadhog said, but this time Rat knew it was a question. Making sure he was okay with it.

“It will,” Rat agreed. Put him back on easier footing. Hog gave him a little care, he’d get Hog off. Fair and square.

Roadie slid his hands up under the windcheater and goosebumps rose in the wake of his touch. Junkrat’s back arched, “Oh,” he breathed. “It’s so… Itchew! Huh-Itchh! Itchhuh!” Luckily he’d pulled the sleeves over his hand because he covered just with his hand before realizing.

“Bless you,” Roadhog said, without pausing from the massage.

“Th...thank y-Ihchuuh! Ah’tchh! Chh!” The sensations together were almost overwhelming. Felt like he was tingling along every nerve, shivering with both chills and desire, surprised to find himself going hard, even as he kept sneezing.

“You blushing, or is that the fever?” Roadhog’s voice a rumble in his ear and even that made a shudder run through him.

“Both,” he sighed. Nothing he could do about it, body betraying him with every sneeze.

Roadie chuckles. “You do that so well.”

“Wh… Huhitch!... Itch! Ishhew! … what?"

“Lose control.” An answer but also a command as he tugged Rat’s boxers down and slid inside, surprisingly gently.

“Oh…” Words gone. Thoughts gone. Only feeling left. Heat, fever, want, like fire in his blood. Waves of trembling over him. Hog deep inside, moving with a gentle but implacable rhythm, driving him higher, stoking the flames. He clenched his mech hand in the sheets, clung to Hog with his flesh hand, fingers tightening convulsively. And as the flames built so, too, did the need to sneeze. Little panting breath, interrupted by sniffles and teasing hitches.

“Lose it, Rat,” Roadhog said.

“Ah’Rrrishhah! Ushhew! Isshah!” The flames engulfed him, he shook with release. For a long, long moment he could only blink blearily at the ceiling, utterly spent. “Holy shit,” he managed, finally.

At some point Roadie’d gotten a cool washcloth and he wiped it carefully over Rat, washing away sweat and the vaporub. Just when the cold was about to set him shivering, Roadhog pulled a blanket over him, then leaned down and kissed his forehead. “You did good, Rat.”

A burst of warmth flowered in his chest and tears sprang up. Rat blinked them back, scrubbed his face with his hand. “‘M a fucking mess,” he said.

“...”

“I mean, sure we have fun. But look at me.” Waved a hand over himself. “Missing a piece or two. Fuckin’ sick all the time. Maybe we should just… go our own ways.”

“...”

“Got enough of a haul to make up for the fight in the bar. Enough to make this bodyguard gig thing worthwhile. We should maybe quit while we’re ahead.” Before you get tired of me, he didn’t say, but it was there on his tongue.

“Rat.” Clink of buckles as Roadhog took off his mask.

Junkrat resisted the urge to look at him. Didn’t want to read the truth of his feelings in his eyes.

“Look at me.”

He does, for a second, then away again.

“You see the scars. All of them. You think they make me ugly?”

“No!” Surprise had him actually meeting Roadhog’s gaze. Caught, he couldn't look away. “Just part of who ya are.” He reached up and traced one from the corner of Roadie’s eye, curving down and along his jaw. No, the scars had surprised him at first, but never bothered him.

“Need the hogdrogen. The mask. So I’m weak?”

“Course not.” First person to mistake Hog for weak wouldn’t live to regret it.

“This place tried to kill us. In so many ways. But it fucking hasn’t. Don’t let it win, Jamie. Don’t let it.”

Junkrat swallowed hard. Nobody called him that, not for years and years. “I won’t,” he said.

Roadhog lay next to him and Junkrat curled into him. Roadhog pulled him closer, carded his fingers through Rat’s hair. “Sleep, Jamie.”

I’m yours, he thought as he drifted away. Whatever’s left of me.

#snezfic #oversnez #constitutionally incapable of writing shortfic #did not go the way I expected

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come-on-shitty-boys · 4 years

Text

//the second spring. miya atsumu//

Warnings: there’s two little sex jokes

Word Count: 1.4K

Notes: atsumu is so cute b y e

PART I. II. III. IV.

The poor boy was completely and utterly miserable. He had been couch ridden for days, shuffling around his tiny apartment in sweatpants, a redness reminiscent of Rudolph from the amount of times he had blown his nose in a tissue. His voice was nasally and his words were interrupted by chains of sneezes as he battled through the one thing that made early spring unbearable: flu season.

You had seen the setter taken down a peg or two during your time together over the past year. You had watched the defeat sink into his eyes everytime he lost an argument with his brother or with Sakusa. You knew that sulking posture that accompanied him whenever a serve didn’t go how he planned. But, never had you seen him like this.

His 4 a.m. text message simply asking you to come over was met with teasing remarks, telling him that if he wanted to get off so bad, he just had to say so. Yet, when you arrived, rather than being greeted with hungry kisses, your boyfriend opened the door looking like the human incarnation of death itself. A woeful expression that had his mouth tugging down into a deeply set frown and tissue bunched up in his hand that he used to wipe the snot running from his nose every few seconds pulled together his entire ensemble.

Atsumu really did try to hug you upon your arrival, but a string of coughs washed over him, leaving him to just whine in misery as he laid his head against your shoulder, taking comfort in the way that your hands rubbed soothing circles against his back. “I don’t feel good,” he mumbled, lacing his arms around your waist.

You laugh lightly, letting one of your hands reach up into his hair. “I can tell, ‘mu. Why aren’t you in bed?”

“Can’t sleep.”

You hum, gently pulling his away from you so you can lay your hand against his forehead, feeling the heat radiate from his skin. “Come on, why don’t we go lay down? You’re pretty hot.”

He scoffs, letting you pull him back down the hallway towards his bedroom. “If you wanted to get off that bad, all you had to do was ask,” he teases, using your previous words against you. Even overcome with a fever, he still had the energy to put on that gentle smirk that carried that tiny glint of mischief up into his eyes, but whatever suave sense of seduction he thought he was oozing was completely ruined as a second round of coughs took hold of him.

Atsumu let you help him slowly shuffle the rest of the way to his bed, gingerly laying down on top of the sheets. You pull one of his blankets up around his body, leaning over him to brush your thumb across his cheek, a gentle kiss being placed on his forehead. “Do you need anything or do you just want to try and get some sleep?”

He just looked up at you tired brown eyes, reaching out towards your body to pull you into his arms. “Will you just stay here?” He muttered, pushing a piece of hair from your face.

“Of course, ‘mu. I can stay as long as you need me to, but you need to try to sleep. You’re going to feel better if you rest.”

“What if you never left,” he continued, his arms tightening their hold around you, scared that his questions might scare you away, because, in truth, a 4 a.m. text message that begged you to come over and help him feel less miserable was not the start to this conversation that he had ever anticipated. But, you’re light teasing that had only been followed with a, “i’ll see you in 10 mu” had made his chest swell and all of the tension seemed to leave his body at the affirmation that you were coming, that you were going to be there for him all because he asked you to be. He wasn’t sure why it had taken him by such surprise or why it had made him so happy to know that you were going to be right by his side in only a matter of short minutes, but there was no denying the tiny smile that pulled at his mouth.

You had been there through everything with him over the last year, from the first spring to the second, you had been right by his side, his number one fan in the stands, his biggest supporter on and off the court. The one person who could bring a smile to his face over the silliest things and the one who could have him clutching his sides in laughter during late night conversations where the only light illuminating you was the television playing reruns of some sitcom that you both had seen too many times. Miya Atsumu was completely and hopelessly in love with you. He might’ve been sick and he might not have been thinking perfectly clearly, but there was one thing that he knew and one thing that he was never going to forget. “I love you and I don’t want you to leave ever again,” Atsumu stated simply, staring into your face, barely visible in the darkness of the night.

“Baby, I already told you that I would stay as long as you needed me to, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s not what I mean.” He took a deep breath, pausing only to release a few heavy coughs into his arm. “What if you lived here? With me?”

You smiled down at him, pushing his hair away from his forehead that had started to bead with little droplets of sweat as his fever continued to set in. “Atsumu, I think your fever is getting to you. You’re not thinking straight right now.”

His brows furrowed together and a cute pout settled onto his lips. “You don’t want to live with me?”

“No, that’s not it, ‘mu. I do want to live with you but-”

“Then do it. Come live with me.” His voice was hoarse, worn and sore from all of his never-ending coughing fits. “And when you get sick, you won’t have to text me to come over, because I’ll already be here.”

You hum a little, cupping his face in your hands. “Atsumu, I just don’t want you to ask something that you’re going to regret, but if you really want me to move in then I-”

“I really want you to move in. Please, Y/N. I’ve never been more sure of anything. The fact that you’re here right now, in the middle of the night, is the only reassurance I could need.”

And it was true too. Atsumu had been in relationships before, but none of them had this same level of careful and attentive energy being passed between two people. It was you coming over in the middle of the night to check on him. It was him leaving volleyball practice early because you called him panicking because there was a massive spider crawling around your kitchen. It was you knowing that he always does his laundry on Thursdays and bringing him some post-laundry snacks. It was him remembering your drink of choice at the coffee shop downtown. Everything that you did for him and everything that he did for you made it so painfully obvious that this was something that he wanted to pursue further. He wanted to take one step further into the madness that came with being in love.

Springs come with first kisses and they come with warm embraces as a young couple finally takes the plunge into a new chapter of their relationship. It’s accompanied by coughing and runny noses, bodies aching and chills being too much to ignore. There are soft kisses shared in the darkness of bedrooms, moonlight barely casting glows on a pair of flames that flickered beautifully on their own, but are now burning more intensely as they merge together, lips pressed into one other, not even bothering to worry about the germs and the now unavoidable flu. All because of one simple answer that was whispered so beautifully and tantalizingly in his ear.

“Yes.”

{Taglist: @nicka-nell @moncymonce @cherryonigiri (since you like my atsumu pieces ;-;}

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #atsumu miya #atsumu #miya #atsumu x reader #miya x reader #miya atsumu #haikyuu imagines #atsumu imagines #x reader #imagines #msby #msby black jackals #fake fics by shitty #but i make them a reality #god i can't wait for the new season just so i can see atsumu again

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randomly-a-fan · 3 years

Text

‘IT’ is Vacation Time

From “Space Clown Baby Sitter” [Link to the Prologue] Pennywise and Aquarius have found a ‘trusted’ Clown sitter to look after their eight-month son. So they decided to spend the weekend alone, just to have the time for themselves for once.

After saying goodbye to Archie, Aquarius took Pennywise to her old wagon where she used to live before she met him. It was a long walk, but it was worth the moment. The woods that Aquarius lives in is off limits, due to poisonous plants, snakes and insects. But Aquarius was immune to infections and can’t get sick and die; and Pennywise can’t be effected by the human world’s natural sources, so he can’t get infected either.

When Aquarius and Pennywise made it to her old circus wagon, her cat came out from under the wagon. “Hi Laverne!” Aquarius said as she crouched down to pet Laverne. She then noticed that Laverne was fat, so she assumes that Laverne has been eating well. Pennywise crouched down to pet the cat as well, since he had the love for animals. “I think Laverne likes you Penny.” Aquarius assumes. “Of course, animals look upon me all the time.” Pennywise explained.

After awhile, Aquarius took their bags and put it in her old wagon. The door was sticky and stiff at first, but she managed to open it to let the dust out. “Man... my shelter hasn’t changed a bit since I’ve left. Aquarius said as she was putting the bag on her double-twin bed. The first thing Pennywise noticed was a cardboard cutout of Heath Ledger Joker. “I’m assuming that you used to be The Joker fan?” Pennywise chuckled. Aquarius looked back at him with a smirk. “Still am... Whoever came up with the character description and characteristics is a genius.” Aquarius said before she blew the dust off the cardboard cutout, which causes them both to cough and sneeze. “Let’s go outside for some fresh air!” Aquarius choked.

Aquarius thought that since the inside was dusty, she would clean her wagon a bit before night comes, or else they’ll be sneezing all night. While Aquarius does that, Pennywise thought it’d be a good time to call Papawise, to check to see if Archie is alright. So he borrowed Aquarius’s cellphone and call home. Only Papawise didn’t answer, but he did hear a squeal and coo. “Archie! Is that you? It’s daddy!” Pennywise said. Archie cooed after hearing his dad’s voice. “Dada?” Archie was confused, how did daddy get into that little talkie thingy? “Where’s Papawise?” Pennywise asked. Then he heard the background noise, “Archie, hand over the phone! DON’T LOOK AT ME!!!” Papawise shouted from the background. Pennywise was shocked to hear him shout at a baby. “Papawise, you better not yell at my boy, he’s only a baby!” Pennywise warned. “You don’t know half of it, son...” Papawise said. “I’m calling to see how he’s been doing; to what am I hearing, it sounds like you’ve got everything under control...” Pennywise said sarcastically. “Yeah yeah whatever... When does Archie have his nap?” Papawise asked. “We gave you a list... Read it and find out!” Pennywise advised. Then he heard Aquarius calling out to Pennywise. “Just read the care instructions carefully; because if anything happens to my son I’ll tare your head off!” Pennywise threatened before he hung up the cell.

After Pennywise returned the cellphone and the wagon was cleaned, Aquarius decided to gather up some food for dinner in the woods. “Feel free to relax while I go out to gather some food.” Aquarius offered. “Actually, I kind of want to see how you gather food; I’m actually curious.” Pennywise rushed over towards his wife. “Besides... I never want you out of my sight.” Pennywise added with a wink. Star blushed and took Penny’s hand to show him around the woods while looking for food.

***

The first thing that came to mind are fiddleheads, she remembered an old hermit-friend of hers that planted fiddleheads in her day before she perished, so Aquarius now owns the fiddlehead field. “See the curved green sprouts? they’re called fiddleheads. They’re really good and good for you.” Aquarius explained. Pennywise snorted by the name of the plants. “I’ll show you how to pick the good ones...” Aquarius showed Pennywise the ‘crowns’, they’re for holding the fiddleheads together while the others still needed more time to grow. “We can only take half the sprouts, so they can still continue growing each time. I’ll show you how to pick them properly.” Aquarius demonstrated on how to pick the fiddleheads; she carefully snapped one stem from two inches from the curved top and put the fiddleheads in the plastic bag for later. “Are you ready to try?” Aquarius asked with a smile. Pennywise crouched down and followed her instructions carefully. It took some crouching and lifting the legs, but they managed to get the amount of fiddleheads they needed.

The next thing on the menu are Wild Carrots, which are very hard to find the edible ones and not mistake them with other plants. “Wild Carrots in the woods are known as Queen Anne, but they look a lot like the other plants that are not safe to eat, such as Hemlock... So to make it safer for the both of us, we’ll do it together.” Aquarius explained.

She then picked one of the plants that are wild carrots; she showed Pennywise and explained to him what the flowers should look like and how he can tell Queen And Hemlock apart. “Why not just check their anatomy charts?” Pennywise joked. Aquarius laughed at Pennywise’s dirty joke that she gave him a gentle punch.

Pennywise finds this survival lessons quite fascinating, yet nervous at the same time. He wondered if Star have ever fell into the wrong plants and nearly cause her life. “An old friend of mine was a hermit; she taught me everything I need to know about surviving in the woods. She taught me how to pick wild carrots and know which are safe. Thank heavens I have met her, or I would have starved to death.” Aquarius explained while she observed the plant carefully. Pennywise has so many questions to ask Aquarius, but since Aquarius has to concentrate on picking the right plants, he has to wait until later.

There are so many kinds of nature’s food that he didn’t know were edible; they’ve gathered bulrush roots and chestnuts. It was exhausting, ‘how does Aquarius do it all her life?’, “I don’t know how you could possibly gather everything for a meal everyday.” Pennywise observes. “Not everyday, just every other day when I needed to gather more food. If not, I try to make money by preforming for people by singing, so I can go by groceries.” Aquarius explained. Pennywise couldn’t help by smile fondly, he felt like that she’s been working too hard for him; both here and at home. Pennywise helped her up as she was feeling stiff. “Let me carry the bag of food for you and we can both rest.” Pennywise offered and suggested. “I guess we can have a rest before we go fishing.” Aquarius agreed. Pennywise raised his eyebrow, they didn’t pack any fishing gear, how can they catch fish without them?

***

While Aquarius gets herself ready in the wagon, Pennywise was just chilling sitting next to Laverne. “So you’ve been Aquarius’s pet for a long time, haven’t you? always keep each other company.” Pennywise said as he gently pets Laverne. Laverne wasn’t always connected to anybody but Aquarius, but she has sensed that something about Pennywise made him somehow... not so human. “Laverne seems to really be a fond of you...” Pennywise looked back seeing Aquarius in her Midnight-Blue Bikini. “...Laverne wasn’t always a people cat since I’ve seen her with other humans...” Aquarius added. Pennywise didn’t exactly pay attention to what she’s saying for the obvious reason. “Penny? My face is up here clown!” Aquarius smirked. Pennywise shook his head quickly to get a hold of himself. “Uh right... sorry love... It’s just that... I’ve never seen you in a bikini before... Forgive me for being observant, but you really lost a lot of that baby weight; you look like a teenager before pregnancy.” Pennywise said in shock. Aquarius knew that Pennywise was only trying to make a compliment, so she decided to accept it. If he said that to anybody else, he’d get b***h-slapped.

Aquarius was on her way to the waterfall to go fishing, with Pennywise coming along to watch... only... he wasn’t watching her fishing... but something that really catches his eyes. “Pennywise, quit starring at my tattoo! (located on her lower back)” Aquarius snapped before she got into the water. Pennywise only smirked while leaning against the tree watching Aquarius fish.

It’s hard for Aquarius to fish with Pennywise lusting, so she decided to make a plan, but she had to wait until she caught a fish. When Aquarius saw the fish, she grew her vicious wildcat paw with claws and waited for it to get to the spot. Then she swiped the fish and let it fly towards Pennywise, “HEADS UP” Aquarius called out. Pennywise looked and didn’t notice the fish flying at him and hit his face; he tried to catch it, but then it somehow fell into his pants. “That’s for starring at my non-face flesh!” Aquarius laughed. But her laughing ended when she saw him tumbled into the thorn bushes. “OW” Pennywise yelled out. Aquarius rushed out of the water and helped Pennywise out of the thorn bush. “Penny I’m so sorry, I did not attend to make you fall into the thorn bush.” Aquarius said as she removed his outfit that is covered in thorns. “You go back to the wagon and I’ll wash your clothes... And the fish.” Aquarius offered with a smirk after pulling out the fish.

***

While Pennywise’s clothes are being dried up by the fire, Aquarius was removing the thorns from his butt and put on some ointment to relieve the sting. “There, that’s the last of it... Feeling any better?” Aquarius asked while rubbing it to sooth his pain. “Well... it hurts a little still, but maybe I’ll feel a lot better once you kiss it better...” Pennywise chuckled. “Get off!” Aquarius snorted before she shoved him off her lap. They both have a good laugh for awhile, until they heard the cauldron bobbing as the water is boiling. “Sounds to me that our dinner is ready, I’ll get our bowls, be right back love.” Aquarius said as she went into the wagon to fetch the bowls and soup spoons.

After Aquarius grabbed the bowls, she went over to the cauldron and carefully scooped up the ‘natures gumbo’ into their bowls, including Laverne. Before she serves the bowl to Laverne she pours some cool water so she wouldn’t burn her tongue. “I hope it’s okay... It may not be children’s flesh... but--” Pennywise raised his hand to quiet her as he was drinking and eating out of the bowl. “No need to make excuses... I think it’s fantastic... Because you made it for me... Anything you make really makes me feel full... from my heart, my stomach and my--” Aquarius covered his mouth as he was about to blurt out the last sentence. “Don’t make me lose my appetite love.” Aquarius smirked as she was eating her dinner.

***

After dinner and cleaning up, Aquarius answered all of Pennywise’s questions about her life before and after she became a demon clown. The story was long and the skies are getting darker, however, Aquarius is worth listening to. He does feel grief for her to what she has been through; like her lack of rents at her cousin’s place, her first kills, and learning how to survive in the woods alone. “...If it wasn’t for my dear hermit friend, I would never have survived from starvation or/and food poisoning... I missed her, but she lived a long good life.” Aquarius ended.

Pennywise was fascinated by her story, he’s glad that he got to know more about Aquarius’s life. He knew that he can trust her when his life depends on it. “It is getting rather late, I think I’ll go hit the sacks, if you don’t mind.” Pennywise said. “That’s fine, I’ll just hang the grub further into the woods; we don’t want any animals like bears to come to our nesting grounds to steal our food.” Aquarius replied while she goes out to hang the food.

***

While Aquarius was out, Pennywise called home to see if his son is alright. But there is no answer, either that both Papawise and Archie are asleep or that they went out late; Pennywise hoped that everything was alright. A few minutes later, Aquarius came back feeling exhausted, so she stripped out of her jumpsuit and put on her nightgown; to prevent Pennywise watching her nude, she removed her bra under her nightgown. “You’re acting like we’re not a married couple, yet you still feel self-cautious.” Pennywise smirked. “I just didn’t want to turn you on since I’m very sore and tired from all the forest work...” Aquarius said as she climbs into bed with Pennywise. “Of course... we’re on vacation soo...” Pennywise made a devilish grin and right away got on top of her.

After a hot throes of activity, they fell right to sleep. That is until after a few hours, Pennywise and Aquarius were awakened by Laverne’s cries. “Something’s wrong with Laverne Penny, I’m going to check out to see what’s going on.” Aquarius said as she put on her robe and grabbed an oil lamp. When Aquarius looked under the wagon, she nearly dropped her oil lamp by something quite shocking. It turns out that Laverne wasn’t fat because she ate a lot...

Laverne just gave birth to kittens. “Aquarius... Anything okay?” Pennywise asked. “Honey, come here... You’ve got to see this.” Aquarius said in a smile. Pennywise rushed out and noticed Laverne with her little fur-balls. “She was pregnant the whole time?” Pennywise asked with a smile. Then he spoke to Laverne. “So you’ve been busy lately, haven’t you?” Pennywise asked the cat while petting her head. Then he turned towards Aquarius, “Star, we can’t leave these kittens out there, it’s too cold and some wild animals might come and eat them.” Pennywise explained. Aquarius was worried. “I don’t know how; the mother cat might get angry and possibly eat one of her own children if our scent affects the kittens to their mother’s liking.” Aquarius replied. “I know how to communicate with animals; you get the cat basket and clean gloves, I’ll take care of Laverne and her kittens.” Pennywise instructed.

After Aquarius came out with the basket and gloves, Pennywise got Laverne to understand what it was that they needed to do for her and her babies. “Okay... Lets get the kittens into their basket.” Pennywise puts on his gloves and took one of the kittens out from under the wagon, they were meowing so cutely. “Hi little guy...” Aquarius said in a low tone to one of the kittens that she picked up. Pennywise picked up the last kitten which is a ginger kitten, the only one that turned out different from its siblings. “You look like a Brutney if I own you...” Pennywise said to the little ginger kitten. “Lets get them inside the wagon.” Pennywise said to Aquarius.

Thankfully, Laverne still loved her kittens and did not want to eat one of them. Then they all went to sleep. “Penny... I’m so glad you’re here with me, if I’ve never known you, I would not know what to do with Laverne and her kittens.” Aquarius said as she kissed her husband passionately. “Well, you’re pretty smart when it comes to survival.” Pennywise replied. “What are we going to do with the kittens?” Pennywise asked. “I think Laverne can take good care of her kittens, and just come every Saturday to check on her and the kittens, until they’re eight weeks old, I’ll see if we can find them a home.” Aquarius thought. “Cassandra might be able to find some people that might like a kitten.” Aquarius added. “As much of a foolish human she is... that’s clearly the best plan... I’m glad you didn’t thought of taking them to the kitty kennel.” Pennywise responded with a yawn. “Never in my life... they deserve a loving home... Like me when you took me in.” Aquarius replied in a soft tone. Pennywise didn’t respond, he went right to sleep, so Aquarius decided to get some sleep too.

For a vacation away from their son, they have to deal with four more babies that were born under the wagon... What more could they ever ask for?

#IT #IT Chapter 2 #Pennywise #Pennywise the Dancing Clown #Aquarius #Aquarius the Singing Clown #fanfiction #fandom

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toosicktoocare · 4 years

Text

prompt: Could I request another sick T.K. but pushing through the illness during work and maybe passing out? 🥰 your writing is incredible and I always check your page when I log in 😊😊

Carlos had been sick, picking up a small cold from another officer, but TK had insisted at the time that he didn’t care and still wanted to sleep with him, banking on a relatively strong immune system to keep the virus at bay; however, perhaps his immune system’s been compromised due to previous drug intake because he wakes for his shift two days after sleeping with Carlos to a throat that burns with each swallow and a headache that thumps softly against his temples.

He’s hot. His blankets feel smoldering and heavy against his skin, and he kicks them off with a groan that brings with it a few dry coughs. He brings a fist to his mouth, coughing into it as he swings his legs over the bed and slides to his feet. The quick motion blurs his vision, and he brings one hand to his head, the headache pushing to a steady pounding now.

“Shit,” he mutters around a few, lingering coughs. He tugs at his shirt collar, hoping to bring some cool air to his heated skin, and stumbles to his bathroom, sluggishly opening his medicine cabinet and reaching around until his hand finds the Ibuprofen bottle. Snagging it, he moves to close his mirror, stopping when his hand brushes against a digital thermometer.

Carlos never had a fever; he didn’t even really have a cough. He was congested, a little more tired than usual, nose irritated and red-rimmed from sneezing, but that was it. TK ghosts his fingers right above the thermometer, and he almost forgoes it entirely, but as if to push him, a wave of heat washes over him, burning at his face, his cheeks, and he snags it with a sigh, turning it on and popping it under his tongue as he opens the Ibuprofen and shakes out a few pills.

The thermometer doesn’t take long to beep quietly, and he plucks it from his lips, frown pulling at the corners of his lips as his eyes stare hard at the 101.2 degree reading. He puts it away, opting to keep this to himself, and pops a few pills into his mouth, washing them down with water cupped in his palm. The pills grate against his sore throat, and he winces as he strips and steps into his shower, putting the water on a cooler temperature to chase away the heat.

The cool stream washes over his heated skin, and he presses one arm to the bathroom wall and drops his forehead against his arm, eyes fluttering closed as he goes still, only letting the shower break the heat. He zones out, almost nodding off, feeling far too fatigued after a full night’s sleep, and he only comes to when the water goes from a pleasant cool to a piercing cold that has him jerking awake with a trembling gasp. His hands shake as he quickly moves through familiar motions of washing himself, and he’s stumbling out of the shower four minutes later, shivering hard, teeth chattering, as he grabs a towel and pulls it around himself.

Drying himself is hard. His limbs have succumbed to a chill that he can’t wipe away with a towel, yet his face still feels oddly hot, and he knows it’s the fever. His reflection when he walks by the mirror is pale, worn, yet his cheeks are colored a deep red, and he presses the back of his hand to his cheek, feeling the heat warm his cold hand.

It’s fine, he tells himself. He just has to wait for the medicine to kick in, and then he will be fine. He’s not in a job position where he can call out from a cold, not when there are so many lives on the line daily. He slips into sweats and pulls a soft, yellow hoodie over his head, slipping into a pair of sneakers before snagging his bag as he starts out of the room.

His dad’s cooking. He can smell omelettes the second he steps into the hall, and his stomach churns at the strong whiffs of eggs and peppers. Swallowing thickly, he takes a moment to compose himself because he has to, and then he steps into the kitchen just as Owen’s plating an omelette.

“Good morning, TK!” Owen sings, voice rising and falling in a made up melody, and TK opens his mouth to reply, but then a tickle hits his nose, and he, instead, turns away to sneeze sharply three times into the crook of his arm, groaning around a light sniffle when he brings his eyes back to Owen.

“Maybe not such a good morning?” Owen asks, eyes hyper-focused on the flush clinging to TK’s cheeks, standing out against too pale skin, and on the soft tremors that TK tries to hid by crossing his arms. “You look terrible.”

“Wow,” TK drags out, wincing at the pain in his throat and the congestion thick in his voice, “thanks, dad.” He moves to slip past Owen to the fridge, forced to maneuver around Owen’s outstretched hand reaching toward his face.

“TK,” Owen starts, concern etched across his forehead. “Your flushed. You look like you’re running a fever.”

TK’s been expecting this ever since he caught sight of his reflection in the bathroom mirror, and despite his pounding head muddling his thoughts, he’s worked through three possible conversations that will come from his current appearance, and he shrugs, opting for the nonchalant route as he grabs his reusable water bottle from the fridge, having left it in there to chill overnight.

“I just got out of the shower.”

“I know,” Owen says, and TK freezes, not expecting that response. He spins around slowly, frown painted across his lips, and he tilts his head in silent question.

“Your hair’s suffering,” Owen mutters, motioning toward his own hair. “You haven’t styled it. You always style it.”

“I woke up late.”

“No, you didn’t. Your alarm went off at the same time it always does.”

Rolling his eyes, TK turns back around, filling his bottle up with water. “Creepy much?” He asks, going for a joke, but Owen doesn’t take to it, only sighing behind TK.

“I’m fine,” TK mutters, coughing lightly as he turns back to face his dad. “Carlos had a cold, and I guess I caught it.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, pushing as if trying to will his headache away.

“You should take your temperature,” Owen starts, turning to leave the room, but TK stops him, calling to him around a few more coughs.

“Dad, stop. I already did, and I’m fine,” he mutters out the lie, sniffling lightly. “I have a headache that I’ve already taken medicine for. I’m just waiting for it to kick in.”

“You should take off today.”

“And risk the entire team calling out favoritism because the captain’s son gets to stay home with a small cold? No thanks.” TK snags his keys from the key dish on the counter.

“It’s not favoritism,” Owen says sharply, yet the frown pulled at his lips contradicts his tone. “I would let anyone take a sick day if they’re feeling unwell. Your health and safety is always my top priority.”

“When are you going to make it yours?” TK asks under his breath, and he’s forced to look away at the pained look Owen shoots him, bringing his eyes to his feet.

“TK--”

“--it’s fine,” TK says, sighing. He brings his gaze back to his dad’s. “I’m fine. I’ll see you at the station.”

*****

After hours of his team picking at him, for his hair being “too floppy,” to his voice sounding “dumb,” as Probie so nicely put it, to the light-hearted, disgusted shouts every time he coughs or sneezes, TK’s silently thankful to be on their last call, a head-on collision on a remote back road.

He feels considerably worse. Though he’s been taking medicine every four hours, the Ibuprofen is doing nothing to touch his headache, and he’s been alternating from hot to cold all day, a clear indication that the medicine hasn’t even come close to touching the fever he’s been running. His voice is rough from coughing, weak, cracking, almost gone entirely, and his jacket pockets are stuffed with tissues.

He feels miserable, and he takes a moment to cough harshly into his fist, hunching in on himself, as the others hop out of the truck and start toward the scene, with only Judd lingering behind.

“That doesn’t sound good, TK.”

“I’m fine.” TK snaps, but he doesn’t mean to. He’s been the center of his father’s concerned gaze all day, and frankly, it’s aggravating him to no end. Five different times his dad’s managed to snag him aside and question how he’s feeling, try to feel for a fever, just general doting that he doesn’t want.

“Being sick sure does make you cranky,” Judd grumbles, and TK sighs shakily, groaning low in his throat when fever chills replace the previous heat that’s been mercilessly clinging to his bones. He hops out of the truck, crossing his arms, and he shoots Judd an apologetic look before slipping his helmet on.

“Sorry,” he offers, turning away to sneeze sharply into the crook of his arm. “Cap’s been hounding me all day about this, and I just want to work in peace.” He brings his face back toward Judd, reflexes too slow to dodge the hand that sneaks past his helmet’s visor to feel at his forehead.

“He’s hounding you with good reason,” Judd grumbles, bringing his hand back with a frown. “You’re on fire.”

“I’m fine,” TK pushes, and Judd opens his mouth to retort, but then there’s a lot of shouting, and they whip around to see Owen calling out orders.

“Get the jaws of life! We’ve got someone not breathing trapped in there!”

TK falls into quick motion, moving along Owen’s orders, doing what he can to assist his team, to free those trapped in both cars. For a moment, he forgets everything, his headache, his fever, the heat pouring off his face, but then, when he turns to grab a neck brace for Michelle, the heat from his face washes over his entire body, different from before, different from the heat of a fever. It’s engulfing, and it blurs his vision. He stumbles to a stop, blinking rapidly to try and clear his eyesight.

It’s not working, and he can feel his chest constricting against the panic that slams at him. His ears begin to ring, the heat begins to grow far too unbearable, and the next time he blinks, his vision is gray, and then he blinks again and everything goes dark.

*****

“-K?”

TK starts to come to slowly, struggling against the heavy weight of a headache pushing against this temples, down his neck, to his shoulders. He feels like lead, and he can feel someone shaking his shoulder, touching his neck, his forehead.

“”Tyler Kennedy Strand, open your eyes right now!”

There are two people in Texas who know TK’s full name, and that booming, worried tone is not Carlos. TK’s eyes snap open, and Owen’s face mixes with relief and concern.

“There you are,” Owen mutters, hand sliding down TK’s cheek, worry etched across his forehead. “You’re burning up.”

TK moves to push past Owen, memories flooding back slowly. His body’s shaking, but he pushes up into a sitting position, looking over Owen’s shoulder toward the car. “The girl,” he mutters, lungs bursting and bringing forth thick, heavy coughs. “Is she--”

“--she’s fine,” Owen says, hand clamped to TK’s shoulder to keep him upright. “You, on the other hand, are not.”

“What happened?” TK asks, eyes frantic, darting between those surrounding him, falling to Carlos, who’s sporting an unreadable expression.

“You fainted,” Owen answers, but when TK moves to stand, he tightens his grip. “Woah, TK, easy. You should get checked by Michelle first.”

“I’m--”

“--if you say you’re fine one more time,” Owen snaps, and TK goes still, flopping back against the grass, draping an arm over his head. He starts shaking when the chills pick back up, and he remains lying on the ground, tuning out the voices over him as he’s looked over by the EMTs.

*****

TK fell asleep as soon as Owen brought him home and urged him to take the flu medication they picked up on their way back, and he sleeps for hours, only coming to to quiet voices from the living room. Opening his eyes is hard, swallowing around the dryness painted in his throat is harder. He coughs, pushing up into a sitting position as rough coughs jerk against his lungs. He slips out of the bed, bringing his blanket with him, wrapping it over his shoulders, and he stumbles out of his room, dizzy yet curious.

He makes it to the living room, shivering, jaw clenched to keep his teeth from clacking together, and he drops against the door frame, arching one brow at his dad and Carlos chatting on the couch.

“What is this?” He asks, turning to cough into his blanket, and Carlos starts toward him, a small smile playing at his lips.

“Your bed head is cute.”

“Stop,” TK whines, moving to pull the blanket over the back of his head. “Why are you here?” He looks past Carlos to Owen. “It’s 2 AM.”

“Carlos wanted to stop by and check on you,” Owen answers, moving out of the living room to his own room. “I’ll leave you two alone. Not too late, Carlos. He needs rest.”

“Dad,” TK drags out, coughing weakly, and Carlos nods and bids Owen a good night.

“Why are you up?”

“The sound of my fuck buddy and my father talking is bound to wake me up,” TK grumbles, and Carlos laughs quietly and brushes the back of his hand to TK’s forehead.

“You feel warmer than before,” Carlos frowns, and TK sags against him, dropping his head to Carlos’ shoulder.

“I feel like shit,” he grumbles, sighing softly when Carlos’ arms wrap around him. “How did you get a small cold and I got the fucking flu?”

“Remember when you said you were too busy to get your flu shot?”

“Fuck off,” TK spits out weakly, and Carlos’ laughing vibrates against him, warm and comfortable, and he moves easily as Carlos guides him back to his bedroom. “Are you going to stay?” he asks, climbing back into his bed, and Carlos arches a brow.

“I was going to ask if that was okay.”

“You’re already BFFs with my dad,” TK mutters, sleeping pulling at him sharply. “You might as well now.”

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