#I’m sorry that I keep sneezing and having breathing troubles | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whiskey-tango-matcha · 11 months

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Cry Wolf (m, cold)

Buckle up, y’all, it’s 5k words of ~pure drama~. Lmao, but for real this one is long, dramatic, and a little snz-light (apologies). Also, there isn’t a sneeze until like 2500 words in (oops). Greyson fakes a cold to try to get out of trouble with Elijah, and is instant-karma’d, as one would hope lol. It’s a little more flowery, there’s a lot of snarky dialogue and inner monologuing... idk. I like this one, even though it’s not super snz-heavy. I hope you guys do, too. Let me know what you think :)

cw: male, cold, coughing, fever

Cry Wolf

“Not to be dramatic, but that sounds like literally the worst event on planet earth and I think I would rather be entirely consumed in flames than do it.”

Elijah turned around slowly in his chair and gave Greyson an incredulous look. “‘Not to be dramatic’? What would being dramatic sound like if not that?”

Greyson shrugged and reached around his boss to click out of the email displaying the event details. “Probably me saying, ‘If you make me do that event, I will cut off my own arms and legs and feed them to you’,” he said, sliding back into his own rolling chair. “But that seemed a bit much, even for me.”

“Yeah, that’s a bit much,” Elijah said, grabbing his mouse back and reopening the email. “Consumed in flames is so much more chill.”

“Agreed.”

Elijah snorted. “Grey, I’m sorry but this isn’t an event we can turn down. I know it’s a lot of work, but the press it gets is unparalleled.”

Greyson groaned and threw his head back theatrically. “Liiiiiij,” he moaned, “c’mon, dude. A ten-course dinner for a bunch of blowhard millionaires throwing pocket change at kids with cancer? Seriously? It sounds like my literal definition of hell. Plus, you know anytime I step into one of those stuffy, soulless banquet halls I break out in hives.”

“Genuinely, and I mean this with all the love in my heart, I have never met anyone as dramatic as you are. And I have a twelve-year-old niece, so that’s saying something,” Elijah said, placing a faux-caring hand on Greyson’s arm. The chef shook it off, annoyed, and Elijah laughed. “Grey, I get that the people who pay to go to these things are assholes, but it really is a good cause. Plus, the American Pediatric Cancer Society seriously has the crème de la crème of social media teams. They promote you for months before and after the event.”

Greyson bit his cheek to keep from laughing. “Creme de la crème?” he asked. “Seriously?”

“Oh, fuck you, Chef.” Elijah said, shaking his head. “You’re doing the damn event. Get used to it.”

***

“Chef?”

Elijah looked around the corner, behind the line, and in the prep kitchen, but Greyson was nowhere to be found.

“Greyson!” Elijah called, pushing through the swinging doors to the dining room, and running directly into the chef, who was innocently making coffee in the server’s station.

“Yes…?” Greyson asked, putting a lid on his coffee and making his way past Elijah, back into the kitchen. The GM followed behind him, annoyed.

“Have you ordered anything for the dinner this Friday yet?”

Greyson raised an eyebrow. “I thought we were closed Friday?”

Elijah gave Greyson a look of complete exasperation. “Yes, we’re closed, Grey, but you remember why we’re closed, right?”

“Uh…” Greyson said, eyes darting towards the calendar. “...winter break for the staff?”

Elijah pursed his lips and closed his eyes; he took a deep breath, pressed his hands together, and readdressed the chef in an entirely too-calm tone. “Greyson. No. Not winter break for the staff.”

Greyson rubbed the back of his neck, nervous. “You’re… out of town?”

“The cancer awareness dinner, Greyson, oh my fucking god,” Elijah slapped a hand on the desk beside them and Greyson cringed. “How could you forget this? The fuck is your problem? We’ve had it on the calendar for months.”

“Dude, I’m really sorry, it just slipped my mind! I’ll be ready, it’s only Monday, this shindig is in four days, I’ll order the stuff now,” Greyson said. He turned towards the desk and started rummaging through the mess of papers by his computer, before looking up at Elijah again, guiltily. “...did we send them a menu?”

“Jesus fucking christ, Greyson, yes we sent them a menu in September. Seriously, are you okay? How in the ever-living fuck could you forget such a huge event? I know you don’t want to do it, but fuck, Greyson, this is my restaurant and my reputation on the line!” Elijah couldn’t seem to ebb the anger now that it had started flowing. He slammed himself into his chair and pounded the computer keys until a PDF popped up – the menu they’d had approved three months earlier. Greyson visibly shrunk back.

“Oh,” he mumbled. “Yeah, I… now I remember. Shit, Lij, I’m so sorry, man.”

Elijah pulled a hand down his face and pressed his fingers into his eyes before addressing the chef. “I’m asking in earnest this time,” he said, his voice small and controlled. “Are. You. Okay. Because you never forget shit like this.”

In hindsight, Greyson knew he shouldn’t have said it; he should’ve told Elijah that he’d put the dinner out of his head the moment he’d halfheartedly slapped together a menu and hoped that Elijah would do the same. He should’ve said that he’d hoped Matt would want to take it over, even though he knew Elijah would never let the sous chef take care of such a high-touch dinner. He should’ve said fucking aliens had abducted him and stolen that one piece of information from his mind, for fuck’s sake, anything other than what actually came out of his mouth.

“Actually, I uh… I haven’t been feeling great. Maybe I’m like, coming down with something?”

In what universe, a tiny voice in Greyson’s head whispered, is this a good idea?

Elijah’s face softened at the false admission. “Shit, Greyson, really? Why didn’t you tell me? What’s wrong?”

Greyson felt the guilt pool in his stomach the moment Elijah’s voice turned to one of concern. Shit. “Uh, I mean, it’s probably nothing. Just like a, uh…sore throat and headache. Just not feeling 100% myself. I’ll be good, just, y’know… a little foggy. But I promise, I’ll order the stuff now and make sure I have cooks for this weekend, okay? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to forget.” At least only half of that was a lie, Greyson thought to himself, grimacing. He and Elijah never lied to each other – as a rule.

Elijah sighed. “I’m sorry for yelling,” he said, “and I’m sorry you aren’t feeling well. Did you take something?” Greyson nodded, the guilt pool in his gut growing larger. “Okay,” Elijah said. “Just… I mean, let me know if it gets worse, okay? Take it easy today. I’ll close the books.”

Greyson nodded as his boss stood and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. He swallowed hard, a swallow that probably looked painful, and Elijah winced in sympathy. You fucking asshole, Greyson chastised himself. “I’m good, boss. Thanks, though.”

Elijah gave the chef a small smile and headed out to the dining room to talk to the host. Greyson let out a little ‘fuck’ and sat down to call purveyors. Why would he say that? If there was one thing Elijah was sympathetic of, it was illness. Greyson had essentially phoned in sympathy points because he didn’t want to be yelled at. What was he, a child?

Greyson tried to shake it off; maybe Elijah would forget the fake-sickness in lieu of the big event this weekend. Maybe this wasn’t a big deal at all. The chef put his head down and called the first purveyor, made an excel sheet, began preparing for the dinner he desperately did not want to do.

He was so wrapped up in preparations, he didn’t see Elijah sneak in to the office; didn’t see him stealthily switch out his coffee cup, or leave just as quick as he’d come in. He didn’t notice until he lifted the cup, took a big swig – and swallowed down a hard lump of guilt with the lemon tea Elijah had brought him. Oh, fuck, Greyson thought, placing his head in his hand. This is not going to end well.

***

The shift felt long.

“Get some rest, okay?” Elijah said to Greyson as the chef packed up his bag. “We need you at 100% for Friday.”

Greyson nodded, somber, and hiked his backpack onto his back. “You got it, boss,” he said; he’d been a man of very few words tonight, which didn’t help the long shift feel any shorter. “I’ll be all good tomorrow. Promise.”

Elijah gave his friend a small smile and nodded back. “See you in the morning,” he said, and Greyson gave a wave behind his head as he walked out the door. Once the chef was out of earshot, Elijah sighed.

He wouldn’t deny the fact that he was worried. Greyson was the king of pushing through illness, but he had a tendency to push himself too hard too quickly, and end up absolutely destroyed a few days into whatever ailment he was fighting. Elijah wanted to make sure that didn’t happen this time; all day, he’d tried to keep Greyson seated if possible, to keep him hydrated, to bring him lozenges and Dayquil and make him ingest them. Care-taking was far from his strong suit, but today he’d really tried; not only to keep Greyson from careening into a worse illness, but to make up for the fact that he’d yelled at him. That had been uncalled for, and he felt like an ass.

An hour or so after the kitchen staff had departed, the final server closed out her check and brought Elijah her paperwork. He finished filling everything out, filed the daily report, and shut off the harsh kitchen light. As he waved the last server goodbye, he found himself thinking, I need a drink. It wasn’t something he did often, but occasionally he’d stop by the club three doors down for a beer and the possibility of spending the night with a real person instead of a glass of whiskey and late-night talk shows. Tonight, when he didn’t have the option of grabbing a burger with Greyson – his only real friend, if he was being honest – at the dive bar, felt like a perfect night to scout for some booze and a warm body to fall asleep next to.

Elijah pulled his jacket on, locked the back door of the restaurant, and set out for the club. The air was frigid this evening; he huddled further into his jacket and upped his pace, reaching the front door of Zed in record-time. He was practically salivating at the thought of a neat whiskey as he yanked open the heavy door – fuck the beer. Let’s get right to the good stuff.

The club was full, but not packed, and Elijah managed to get a seat at the bar – rare here, especially since the club’s bar was tiny by design. They wanted you on the dance floor, mingling, sweating, working up a thirst for another, and another, and -

“Can I get another double Maker’s?” Elijah’s ears perked up at the sound of someone ordering over his head; if there was one voice he knew for certain, it was that one. The GM turned slowly around and to his left – oh, you mother fucker.

“Greyson?” Elijah called over the thump of electronic music. From about a yard away, Greyson’s head snapped around, searching for the voice that said his name. When he and Elijah locked eyes, Elijah noticed he was sweating and panting – and certainly not from any feigned fever.

“Oh… fuck,” Greyson said, obviously too drunk to realize how loud he was being. “Oh, shit. Fuck. Lij, I -”

Elijah shook his head. “I see you’re… feeling better,” he called over the heads of the people seated next to him. “Asshole.”

Greyson couldn’t seem to form words after that, and the bartender interrupted him anyway by placing a full glass of whiskey on the bartop. “Name on the card?” the bartender asked. Before Greyson could answer, Elijah called out to the bartender.

“Put it on me,” he said, and the bartender nodded before moving to help another guest. Greyson stood, seemingly stuck in place, before taking a tentative step towards his boss. Elijah put a hand up, as though to say stop right there. “No need to thank me, chef,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Enjoy your… medicine.”

Elijah slapped a fifty on the bartop in front of him. He drained his whiskey, slammed down the glass, and breezed past Greyson, his face flaming with embarrassment. What an ass he was, not realizing he’d been played. What a complete moron.

“Elijah, wait -” he heard Greyson call behind him – but he wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction. Without looking back, Elijah pushed open the door and immediately hailed a cab outside. When Greyson finally made it past the throngs of people and into the street, Elijah was long gone.

***

To say the next few days were awkward would be the understatement of the century.

The morning after the club, Greyson had barreled into the office, spewing apology after apology before Elijah could even say hello. The GM had accepted, albeit coldly, and hadn’t mentioned it for the remainder of the day. He hadn’t mentioned much of anything, truly, and when the shift ended Elijah walked out without saying goodbye, leaving Mark to close the restaurant down.

“What did you do?” Mark had asked Greyson when their boss had departed. Greyson just shook his head.

“I fucked up,” he said. Mark snorted.

“Clearly.”

The next day had continued in the same fashion; Elijah giving Greyson the cold shoulder, Greyson attempting to apologize in every way he could think of. They barely spoke Thursday, as well – and by then, Greyson was starting to worry that they’d never speak again.

“He’ll talk to you tomorrow,” Mark promised when Elijah walked out for the third night in a row without saying goodbye. “He can only hold a grudge for seventy-two hours, max.”

Greyson wasn’t so sure. He’d never seen Elijah this mad before, not even when Greyson had fucked up and only bought two tenderloins for a party that requested nothing but steak in his first month of working together. Plus, Greyson was dealing with a bit of a sticky situation – a situation that he was sure would make Elijah ten times angrier at him. A situation that literally could not have arisen at a worse time.

“Hhh...hhNGTSH-zue! HTSHH-ue! NGTZSHUE!”

“Bless,” Mark said, distractedly, his eyes trained on the computer monitor in front of him. “You feeling okay?”

He wasn’t. He’d woken up that morning with his throat sticky, and his head pounding. Instant karma, he’d thought as he chugged tea in place of his usual coffee. When he remembered the tea Elijah made for him a few days before – a gentle kindness, a peace offering, a showing of care for someone who’d blatantly lied to his face – his stomach soured. Greyson had dumped the tea down the drain and forced himself to chug an energy drink instead; the bubbles made him cough until his ribs were sore.

“I’m good,” Greyson said, stealthily managing to keep the congestion out of his voice. “Allergies.”

Mark turned to the chef, an eyebrow raised. “It’s December,” he said.

“Right,” Greyson answered, though it wasn’t an answer at all. “Yeah, it is.”

The event was tomorrow; Elijah had spoken to Greyson long enough to remind him that they needed to be in the van by three PM for a six PM call time at the banquet hall. Greyson had said he knew, had said he’d be in at ten to get everything finished and packed and make sure Matt was well-versed on their menu, as he was the second set of hands Greyson would need to plate up. Elijah had nodded, obviously done with the conversation, and that had been that.

“Alright, Chef, I’m out of here,” Mark said, snapping Greyson back to reality. “You need anything before I go?”

Greyson shook his head. “Thangks, Mark,” he said, internally cursing the congestion that had wormed its way into his voice. Mark pursed his lips.

“Yeah,” he said. “Get some sleep, Chef.”

A parroting of Elijah’s sentiment at the beginning of the week; a mockery. One that Greyson most certainly deserved.

***

When Elijah got in the morning of the event, Greyson was already in the prep kitchen tightly wrapping his food for the evening and briefing Matt on the menu. The GM sighed; it was finally time.

“Chef,” Elijah said, knocking politely on the wall. Matt and Greyson looked up, surprised, and gave their boss matching smiles.

“Morning, boss,” Greyson said, his voice low. Something seemed… off, but Elijah couldn’t put his finger on it.

“I just wanted to say, I accept your apology,” Elijah said. “Thanks for letting me sulk the past few days.”

Greyson raised an eyebrow, but nodded. “Thanks, boss,” he said, simply. “I appreciate it. Sorry againd.”

Elijah nodded back and made his way towards the dining room to begin packing up dishware for the dinner. Something was weird about Greyson today; he’d really expected a bit more fanfare when he’d announced his acceptance. A bit more gushing, maybe a signature Greyson pick-you-up-off-the-ground hug – but he got none of it. If anything, Greyson seemed more reserved than Elijah had been in the days leading up to the dinner. Maybe he was angry that Elijah had held the grudge for so long – though that didn’t seem like Greyson in the slightest.

He decided to drop it; most likely, he was putting weight on a situation that required none. Elijah finished packing the dishes into milk crates, and headed back into the kitchen to ask Greyson and Matt for help loading them in the van.

“Grey?” Elijah called into the kitchen. “Matt? Can you guys come give me a ha -”

“HNGTSSHHH-ue! HTSHZUE! NGTSH! Huh-! Huhh...HUHESTZHUE!”

He wasn’t cut off, because Greyson clearly hadn’t heard him speaking before unleashing a seemingly-unending volley of sneezes. Elijah’s heart first sunk deep into the pit that was his stomach – and then his face flamed with an anger he hadn’t expected.

“Oh, you’re shitting me,” he muttered, stomping his way into the back kitchen. “You are absolutely fucking kidding.”

Greyson, who was posted up at the sink blowing his nose, nearly jumped when he saw Elijah storm into the prep kitchen. “Christ,” he said, trying to nonchalantly throw the paper towel he was holding away, “give a guy a heart attack.”

“Is this some kind of joke to you, Greyson?” Elijah asked, crossing his arms. Greyson sniffled, rubbed his nose on the back of his hand, and raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for Elijah to continue his diatribe.

“Is… what a joke?” Greyson asked when he realized he wasn’t getting any more context clues from his boss. Elijah huffed out an angry laugh.

“You’re trying to fuck with me. Right? You’re trying to make me look like an ass, see if I’ll once again feed into your weird little game.” Elijah was practically snorting with anger; he couldn’t help it. Fool me once, and all that.

“Lij,” Greyson said, holding his hands up as though to surrender, “I… I don’t kndow what you’re talking about.” Elijah laughed – a mean, ringing sound.

“I get it; you’re making a point. You don’t want to do this event and you never have. Well, Greyson, it’s too fucking late now, so just stop. I’m not in the mood for whatever fucking ruse you and your little minion have up your sleeves. So get rid of whatever it is you’re using to make yourself sneeze – we get it, ha ha, Elijah’s a moron, so goddamn funny – and cut it out. In fact, hand it over. Clearly you’re too much of a fucking child to know when enough is enough.” Elijah held out his hand, waiting on Greyson or Matt to fess up and slap a pepper mill or something into his hand, but neither of them stirred. After an awkward moment of the three of them standing, all waiting for something to happen, Matt cleared his throat.

“Um…” he said, “I… I don’t know what’s going on here, but we don’t, like… have anything.”

Elijah threw the sous chef a dirty look, then looked back to Greyson. “You’ve got him trained well,” he said, not giving it up. Greyson opened his mouth to say something, but his face collapsed before the words could make it to his mouth. He crumpled to the side and used an elbow to cover his mouth.

“HRRTSHH-uh! Huh...huhhNGTSHH-ue! ITZSCHUE! Huh! Hhh…” Greyson didn’t allow himself the luxury of waiting on the last sneeze to make its appearance; instead, he pinched his nose to ebb the fit and coughed into his palm – a hacking, congested sound. Elijah’s anger dried as quickly as rain in the Sahara desert – oh, fuck.

“Oh… fuck,” Elijah muttered as Greyson grabbed another handful of paper towels to blow his nose into. “You’re… you’re not actually sick, are you?”

Matt started to answer for him, but Greyson cut his sous off. “Ndo,” he said, curtly. “Allergies or sombething. Ndot tryigg to fuck with you. Sorry, Lij.” He finished with another painful-sounding cough, while behind him Matt shook his head, eyes wide; a silent miming of he’s sick as a dog.

Before Elijah could say anything else, Greyson tossed the paper towels and headed out towards the dining room. “Were you sayigg you ndeed help with plates?” he asked, wiping a hand under his nose and swallowing painfully. Elijah, unsure of how to handle this situation, simply deflated, a balloon in the harsh summer sun.

“Um. Yes,” he said, following behind Greyson. “Yeah, I… help would be great.”

Greyson nodded, turned, and headed to grab the plates. Elijah held back, and turned to Matt.

“He actually has a cold now, doesn’t he?” he asked, though it was soft enough to not know if it was to Matt or himself. Matt shook his head.

“No,” he said, giving Elijah a disapproving look. “It’s definitely not a cold.”

With that, the sous followed behind his boss, side chosen – leaving Elijah standing stalwart in the back of the kitchen. This, he thought to himself, is not going to end well.

***

If he was being honest, Greyson wasn’t sure how he was going to make it through this dinner.

At the beginning of the day, he’d been fairly sure he could hold it together; sure, his throat was on fire, and he couldn’t stop coughing. Yes, he was stuffed up to the gills and every little movement triggered another sneeze fit. But he hadn’t had a fever, and he’d been plying himself with cold meds, so everything had been fine.

...that is, until the Elijah-explosion.

Things had gone downhill quickly after Elijah’s screaming fit. Greyson started attempting to hold back all of his sneezes and coughs, resulting in a headache that made his eyes feel like two swollen golf balls lodged inside a too-small head. He’d stopped pounding ibuprofen, cough syrup, and dayquil after Elijah’s freak-out, too; didn’t want to seem like he was egging his boss on. Now that they had arrived at the event, he had a new problem: it was incredibly difficult to medicate in a banquet hall filled with stuffy, old assholes.

“Mbatt, is that everythi – NGTSH! TSH! HTSH! Huh - ! HRSSH-uhh!” Greyson tried desperately to hold back yet another string of sneezes, to no avail. Whatever shit he’d picked up was persistent; persistent and fucking annoying.

“Yes, Chef,” Matt said, giving his boss a pointed look. Greyson meant to return the look, but instead sunk down below their prep station to cough into his sleeve. From the ground, he heard Matt sigh – then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a bottle of cough syrup in his sous’ hand. Without thinking, Greyson snatched it and chugged.

“Chef,” Matt said, quietly, “we’re all set here. Just waiting on people to arrive – why don’t you go have a cigarette or something?”

The last thing Greyson wanted with this bitch of a cough was a cigarette, but he nodded anyway; he knew Matt. He knew what he meant was go outside and collect yourself, you’re in for a long night.

“Thanks,” Greyson muttered, standing. “I’ll be back ind ten.”

“Take your time,” Matt insisted.

Greyson stumbled out of the building, clutching his chef’s coat close to his body; he’d left his jacket in the car, but he desperately needed some air. Fortunately or unfortunately, he’d already caught his death; no need to worry about the cold infecting him further.

Whether it was luck or just the fact that it was too cold for anyone else to dare venture outside, he couldn’t be sure, but either way he was glad to see that no one else was in the courtyard when he pushed through the heavy banquet doors. Greyson sat heavily on a bench arms wrapped around his middle, and took a few deep breaths. On second thought, he found himself thinking, maybe a cigarette does sound nice.

The chef pulled his pack and lighter out of his jeans and brought the cigarette to his mouth with a shaking hand. It took a few clicks to light it; once it was finally lit, he only got one good pull before he heard the door open noisily behind him.

“Are you seriously smoking?”

Elijah.

Greyson turned around, sluggish, and gave his boss a coy you-caught-me smile. “Addiction’s a hell of a thigg,” he said, turning to cough once again. “You wandt one?”

Elijah sighed, clearly thinking twice, but ultimately nodded and sat next to Greyson. The chef handed him the pack and the lighter.

“If you wandt it today, trust mbe you don’t wandt mbe lighting it,” Greyson joked, holding up a shaking hand as proof. Elijah bit his cheek, then slid out of his heavy outer coat and placed it over Greyson’s shoulders. Greyson went to protest, but Elijah held up his hand.

“You need it,” he said, taking the lighter and producing a flame immediately. “Just as much as you don’t need that,” he pointed to the stick between his friend’s fingers, but didn’t go to grab it.

“Yeah,” Greyson said, “you’re probably right.”

They sat in an awkward silence after that, punctuated only by Greyson’s coughs and sniffles; a game of chicken neither of them seemed keen on losing. Finally, Elijah finished his cigarette and stomped it out beneath his foot. He stood, and turned to regard Greyson.

“Thank you,” he said, holding out a hand. Greyson gave his boss a look, then took his hand and allowed the other man to pull him to his feet.

“Dond’t mbention it,” Greyson said, sniffling. He tried to hold the eye contact Elijah was giving him, but his nose seemed to have other plans. “Huh! HuhhhETSHHZUE!” Greyson sneezed, hard, into the sleeve of Elijah’s coat, then groaned when he realized what he’d done.

“Bless,” Elijah said, apparently unfazed by the coat’s untimely demise. Greyson nodded, wiped his nose on the back of his hand, and sniffled. “Grey, I’m -”

“Please dond’t say it,” Greyson said, holding a hand up. “Please. I’mb the boy who cried wolf, y’kndow? Instant karma. I did this to mbyself.” He rubbed a tired eye, attempted a light cough, then dissolved into a full-on coughing fit.

“Christ, Greyson,” Elijah said, patting the chef on the back. “That sounds fucking awful.”

“Weird,” Greyson said once he’d composed himself. “Because it honestly feel ambazigg.”

“Seriously?”

“Ndo. Ndo, I feel like I’mb going to keel over at any second.”

Elijah couldn’t help it; he burst out laughing. Greyson laughed, too; tension broken. They caught each other’s eyes, and burst out laughing once again; friends once more.

“I’m sorry you’re sick,” Elijah said. “And I’m sorry about this event. You’re right; these people suck ass.”

“Mbost people do,” Greyson said, chuckling. “I’mb sorry for being such a dick about this dinner, though. And forgetting. And pretending to be sick.”

“And then actually getting sick,” Elijah finished for him. Greyson smiled.

“And that,” he said. Elijah shrugged, gave a short little laugh.

“Very typical ‘us’,” he said, looking through the window into the banquet hall. Greyson nodded.

“Yeah,” he agreed, sighing. “You ready to get this shit over with?”

Elijah smiled. “Yes, Chef,” he said. Greyson laughed, which dissolved once more into a crackly cough. “Then let’s get you to bed.”

Greyson nodded, a hand pressed into one of his aching eyes. “Boss,” he said, “You read mby mbind.”

The two men headed back inside and took their places. It certainly wasn’t the first time they’d do an event with one of them on the brink of death, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last; that was the way of this industry. Greyson sucked down some more cold medicine, Elijah fixed the table settings, and Matt gleaned that all had somehow been forgiven and visibly relaxed. Just another night. The show must go on.

#snz #snzfic #sickfic #coldfic #male snz #male sneeze #whiskeyswriting #sick #coughing #illness #if you made it to the end of this behemoth i bestow upon you all the gratefulness in my heart and a single gold star

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mandelene · 1 year

Note

So I'm just sending this in...you don't have to do them but I feel like I was gonna forget them if I didn't. The prompt idea I had was - The first incident/event that made Arthur realise Matthew was asthmatic? Like the first time he showed symptoms I guess

but yeah no worries if you don't want to write this! thanks anyway!

I’m back with another drabble at long last! I’ve gotten so rusty. Thanks to the above anon who sent in this request (sorry it's been in my inbox for weeks 😅).

The Fine Line Between Overbearing and Caring Word Count: 962

Arthur would not describe himself as a helicopter parent. In fact, he would take offense if someone were to even suggest such a thing. Surely, there is nothing wrong with hovering over one’s child occasionally? Don’t most parents monitor the social, mental, and physical aspects of their children’s lives? What’s wrong with keeping tabs on whether his five-year-old twins are eating healthy, getting enough sleep, staying far away from the troublemakers in their kindergarten class, being taught an academically rigorous curriculum, and exercising proper hand-washing hygiene?

Francis says he’s overprotective. Rubbish. Arthur believes there’s no such thing as being overprotective when it comes to one’s own children. Children need structure, and they need to know that they can always count on their parents. Arthur didn’t have either of those things during his formative years and look how that’s turned out.

Therefore, when Arthur notices that Matthew has started coughing at night before bed with a worrying frequency, he immediately raises the issue with Francis.

“Perhaps it’s too dry in his bedroom. We should set up a humidifier,” he proposes.

“Arthur, you’re being dramatic. I haven’t heard him coughing. Everyone coughs on occasion. We don’t all need to be rushed to the hospital,” Francis counters, having borne witness to his husband’s excessive fretting many times. “Remember when you thought Alfred had appendicitis? It was just an ordinary stomach ache.”

Arthur rolls his eyes. “He had pain in the lower right quadrant of his abdomen – it wasn’t a stretch to assume it was his appendix. Regardless, you never notice these things.”

“You notice every sneeze and think it’s pneumonia. You always jump to the worst-case scenario. Are all doctors like this?”

“As a medical professional, it’s my job to notice things,” Arthur says gruffly, unsatisfied with Francis’ dismissive response. “I’m worried.”

“Don’t worry so much…Oh, don’t look at me like that. If it makes you feel better, put the humidifier in Matthew’s room.”

“I will.”

“Good.”

And that’s the end of that. For the time being.

Arthur doesn’t detect any other concerning behavior for several weeks.

Until, one Friday during dinnertime, as Arthur is taking a bite of the lemon chicken Francis prepared for dinner, he hears a soft, high-pitched wheeze from across the table.

He sets down his fork and observes the rise and fall of Matthew’s chest. His breaths are too shallow for comfort. “Matthew, my love, are you feeling all right?”

Matthew nods his head but doesn’t meet Arthur’s inquiring gaze.

“You know you can tell me if you’re not…I don’t think you’re being honest with me,” he continues, pressing him for a real answer.

“Matthew was coughin’ all day at school,” Alfred reveals, always happy to take advantage of the opportunity to snitch on his brother, especially since Matthew rarely finds himself in trouble. “But he didn’t wanna tell the teacher.”

Now that he’s been put in the hot seat and all eyes are on him, Matthew begins to cry. Big, sloppy tears run down his flushed cheeks, and Francis hurries around the table to console him.

“There, there, you’re not in any trouble, mon chou,” Francis soothes, running a hand through Matthew’s hair. “Why don’t you tell us what’s bothering you so we can help?”

Arthur already has a hunch as to what the diagnosis is, but he wants Matthew to explain the problem in his own words to help confirm his suspicions.

“It hurts,” Matthew admits between his sobbing.

“What hurts, mon lapin?”

“To b-breathe.”

And that’s all Arthur really needs to hear. He leaves the kitchen to retrieve his stethoscope, and when he returns with it, he places the diaphragm on Matthew’s chest. The wheezing he hears with each exhalation makes it clear what the cause is. “Matthew, you’re having an asthma attack.”

“Asthma?” Francis asks, eyes wide with concern.

“I told you his coughing during the night was significant,” Arthur huffs, stopping just short of saying ‘I told you so.’

He thinks he has an albuterol inhaler lying around somewhere – he keeps most emergency medications on hand. Unlike Francis, he’s prepared for any situation. After rummaging through a few cabinets in the bathroom, he finds one, and fortunately, it isn’t expired.

He gives it a good shake and helps Matthew take two puffs. After a minute or so, Matthew’s shoulders slump with relief and his breathing begins to slow.

“Feeling better?” Arthur asks him.

“Uh huh,” Matthew replies after taking a few deep breaths.

“Good.”

Francis frowns. “So what now?”

“We make an appointment with a specialist – either an allergist or pulmonologist. They’ll be able to do a few breathing tests to confirm it’s asthma and come up with a long-term treatment plan,” Arthur explains. “The bad news is that this likely won’t be Matthew’s last asthma attack. The good news is that it’s very much manageable with the right medications.”

“My poor, Mathieu,” Francis says before giving Matthew’s head a gentle kiss. “I’m so sorry, mon lapin.”

Meanwhile, Alfred seems to have other priorities on his mind. “I wanna try,” he mumbles, pointing to the inhaler.

“You don’t need it, Alfred. This is a medication like any other, and we don’t use medicine we don’t need, understand?”

“Ugh, no fair,” Alfred pouts. “It looks cool.”

Alfred calling the inhaler “cool” seems to cheer Matthew up somewhat and stops his river of tears.

Arthur’s not sure how to explain the complexities of having an obstructive lung condition to a kindergartener or where to even start, but there will be plenty of time to figure it out. For now, he supposes all that matters is that Matthew is feeling more like himself again.

At least now he has an excuse to hover over his son even more without being accused by his husband of being overbearing.

That’s a plus.

#hetalia #hws face family #hws canada #hws england #hws france #hws america #asthmatic matthew #drabbles #drabble #hurt/comfort

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rodolfoparras · 1 month

Note

I have multiple dragon ocs because they're so silly !!! My one for Thranduil has acid/poison but I have another for Lord Elrond that breathes fire and he does accidentally cause little fires😭

Somwtimes he tries picking flowers for Elrond but the pollen makes him sneeze and well... All he has is ashes D:

Thranduil absolutely gives his dragon shiny things to keep him out of trouble :> and he so proudly shows it off as his hoard !!! He'll go up to a random elf while holding a bunch of jewelry in his arms and be like "I have the prettiest hoard ever because King Thranduil gives me his jewelry and crowns :3"

dragon boy also wags his tail when excited which is cute !!! But dangerous because it's like a armored, spiky baseball bat getting swung around so he tends to break things and occasionally hit others in the shins💀 they're okay tho and he always apologizes

-🌱

Nooo that’s so cute 😭 i genuinely find it so endearing when creatures don’t know how to control their powers im just imagining the dragon collecting up the ashes and attempting to gift that😭

Also sweet thing walking around the market with 93734 rings on one hand, necklaces getting tangled up into each other and wearing bracelet on bracelet and everyone think he’s so silly but he’s just so proud to show off!!

Dragon boy walking through the market and holding onto his tail so he doesn’t accidentally hit anyone and when he does is like I’m so so so sorry sir/ma’am😭

#alec answers #🌱 anon

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aceoftrashies · 2 years

Note

Sick fic with sneezes of one or more of the demons or angels in obey me? (choose you're favorite! )

[What's funny about this is I have to finish a draft, and it's around all seven demon bro getting sick. XD]

[Choose my favorite? Welp, y'all already know who I'm pickin'. ;) ]

[Side note: they’re dating in this bc i’m a helpless asmo simp yeet ;P]

Asmodeus tries his absolute hardest not to get sick, but he woke up one morning coughing and sneezing into his arm, getting a tissue and holding it to his nose as it started running.

MC knocks on his door to check in on him, Asmo allowing them in.

"Asmo, are you feeling okay?" You peek your head in and walk up to his bed, seeing that he was not feeling okay at all. But you wanted him to say it.

"No," he stated with a sniffle. "I caught a cold.. and I keep snihhh... hih'TSHew!! e'sHIEW!! hahhh.... hehhh..! HEH'TSHEW!! hih'SHIEW!!"

He let out several high-pitched sneezes, spraying his arm as he ducked away from you.

"Gesundheit," you state, grabbing some tissues for him once you finished.

"Ugh... thank you, darling." In the Devildom, you used "gesundheit" rather than "bless you" because you knew gesundheit was more of a get well wish.

"Is there anything I can get you?" You ask softly, feeling his forehead with your palm.

"Mmmm, your hand feels nice." Asmo closed his eyes at the touch.

"Asmo." You call softly.

"Hm?" He opened his eyes halfway and looked at you.

"Is there anything I can get you?" You repeat as you look into his eyes.

"Oh! Sorry darling, I wasn't paying attention. Ummmm... I think I'd just like to be held for a while." Asmo stated, looking at you with puppy eyes.

"Alright," you chuckle, gently patting his back. "Scooch over a bit?"

Asmo gladly moved over so you could lay down next to him. You slide in and hold him close, his skin is hot and he rests his head on your chest.

“Mmmm... you’re so warm.” He cooed with a sniffle.

“You too...” You frown, caressing him. “Really, really warm.”

“hihh--!!” Asmo sat up, to which you quickly followed.

As soon as you heard the hitch, your instincts kicked in, grabbing a tissue and holding it to the demon’s nose.

“hahh... ahhh... hih’tshmf! mmf’shiew!” He muffled some sneezes into the tissue, breath hitching again as he released a few more.

He groaned and mumbled a “thank you” into the tissue as you wiped his nose and threw away the tissue.

After you did, Asmo laid down and rested his head back on your chest. He looked up with sweet, adoring eyes.

“Thank you so much, for every--- hih--!!” He turned away, sneezing into his hand. “eh’tcHIew! hih’tCHiew!!” The sneezes were high pitched and sounded very ticklish. “For everything... I really appreciate it.”

You cooed with appreciation, kissing his forehead. “Awww, it’s no trouble. Anything for you, honey-bun.”

Asmo giggled and kissed your cheek, nustling himself to you a bit more and softly drifted off to sleep.

#holy toledo #this took me forever #and i'm so sorry #i get unmotivated v easily #obey me sneeze content #obey me asmo

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goldenempyrean · 1 year

Text

My Prompt List!

〚 Main Masterlist || Request Here 〛

Hey! Below you'll see my active prompt list for requests, there's both sickie and caretaker dialogue :D I made a few changes, removed some, added new ones, ect. I'll still keep my old list uploaded since its being used by other people still!

〘 totally feel free to reblog this list and to use it in your own writing too 〙

〚Request Here!〛

𝐒𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐞 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐠𝐨𝐮𝐞:

“I'm not sick. I literally do not get sick”

“I think I'm coming down with something.” ��

“Does my forehead feel warm to you?”

“I can't be sick right now! I have so much stuff I need to do”

“Baby, can you pass me the tissues?”

"Cmon, you know I don’t get sick.“

"My head feels funny”

"I just need some sleep, I’ll be fine"

"Please stop worrying"

“I’m wallowing in self-pity.”

"Couldn’t you keep your cold to yourself?“

"Stay still, you’re making me dizzy.”

"I’ll rest later! I have really important work stuff to finish.”

*sniff* “No, I don’t need a tissue.”

“I don't feel well.”

“Woah… Why is the room spinning?”

“Tissues are for sick people!”

“This isn't fair! Germs should see me and run the opposite way”

“You infected me...”

“I caught your stupid cold!”

*sniff* “We ran out of tissues.”

“Don't come too close. You don’t wanna catch this.”

“I'm really gross right now.”

“I don’t need you to check my temperature, I'm fine!”

“I thought the medicine was non-drowsy…”

“I’m not drinking it! It tastes disgusting!”

“I don’t think I can walk straight right now.”

“If you keep kissing me then you’re going to catch this junk.”

“I think that maybe…possibly… I might be sick.”

“Can we please just snuggle on the sofa?”

“I'm just trying to get all this work done! I have no time to rest.”

“All I’ve done today is catch your cold!”

“You don’t need to worry about me sweetie.”

“I’ve felt worst.”

“You probably shouldn’t kiss me.”

“Hey! You’re gonna catch this now.”

“Do I look okay to you?”

“I must look a mess…”

“Can you budge up, I wanna lay with you.”

“I'm going back to bed.”

“I can see you staring at me. You’re not discreet y’know?”

“Naps are only for babies and old people. I'm neither.”

“I felt funny this morning, but it wasn’t this bad.”

“I don't care what you talk about, can you just keep talking?”

“I'm a little out of it today.”

“We need to buy more tissues.”

“I do not have a cold!”

“I'm not pouting…”

“I'm allowed to be miserable.”

“Oh, I'm sorry. Is my sickness bothering you?”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to get sick.”

“It’s a cold. I’ll live.”

“Hey! Don’t tease me whilst I'm sick!”

“Are you gonna nurse me back to health?”

“I'm not feeling too hot.”

“You better not complain when you catch this.”

“I'm just a little under the weather that’s all.”

“I don’t need you to nurse me, I'm perfectly fine.”

“Y’know… I heard cuddles can cure colds quick.”

“I sneezed twice, is that a crime?”

“You’re not going to drop this, are you?”

“You didn’t have to go through all this trouble.”

“Do you actually think I’ve had time to go out and get a flu-shot?”

“It's chaos here. I can't just stop working because I have the sniffles.”

“Don’t get lost in the sea of tissues.”

“I'm not grumpy.”

“I mean, sharing is caring afterall.”

“Can you just shut up for a second?”

“That medicine tastes gross.”

"No, don't worry, I'm totally fine. Just a little sniffle, that's all."

“I just can't stop sneezing!”

“I don’t get colds.”

“You don’t need to take care of me, I’ll be fine.”

“You’re really sweet for wanting to look after me like this.”

“I totally just got my germs all over you!”

"Ugh, of all the times to catch a cold, it had to be now."

“We were meant to go out tonight!”

“Did you come home just to look after me?”

"I don't think I can remember what it's like to breathe normally."

“I think I caught that bug you had.”

“My boss won't let me take a sick day.”

“I can take care of myself, thank you very much.”

"Why are you laughing at my misery?"

“Are you seriously going to say bless you every single time I sneeze?”

“I think I’m catching something.”

“I don’t want you to get sick too.”

“For the hundredth time, I am not sick!"

“Being sick is beneath me.”

"I'm convinced my immune system is plotting against me."

“I don’t have time nor energy to be sick right now.”

“Can you please stop pacing; you’re making me dizzy.”

"Ugh, the last thing I need is a stuffy nose. I have way too much to do."

“You gonna nurse me back to health then, show me some of that bedside manner?”

“Jeez, if that's your beside manner, I’d rather take my chances on my own.”

“Maybe I should get you sick too so we can be miserable together.”

"Is it getting colder in here, or is it just me?"

"I've got the whole medicine cabinet on my bedside table. I feel like a walking pharmacy."

"I'm tired of being tired all the time."

“You’re hovering…”

"I'm not dramatic; this cold is genuinely debilitating."

"Could you please turn down the AC? I'm freezing."

“Can you look after me?”

"I just want to stay in bed all day."

“I don’t need looking after.”

“Stop trying to feel my forehead.”

"I should've invested in a tissue company... sniff... I'd be their number one customer."

༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞:

“Let me feel your forehead.”

“You feeling alright?”

“Bless you! Are you sure you're okay? You never sneeze this much.”

“Baby, I’m saying this in the nicest way possible, you look like shit”

“We need to get that fever down.”

“I’ve never seen you this sick.”

“So much for your perfect immune system.”

“Jeez, you look half-dead.”

“Let's get home so we can get you feeling better.”

“Thats it. You're going to bed.”

“Aw, you're all sniffly.”

“Wow. Bless you! That didn't sound too good.”

“I'm going to take care of you.”

"You look like death warmed over.“

"Bless you!… since when do you sneeze more than once?”

"You’re going to catch your death out here.“

"Slow down, you’re slurring your words.”

"Aw, your nose is all red.”

"You know we own tissues for a reason, right?“

"What are you doing up? You’re supposed to be in bed.“

"How did you get manage to get this sick, this fast”

"Date night can wait; your health is what’s important.“

"Blow your nose, I can’t understand what you’re trying to say.”

You can’t drive home in your condition.”

”There’s no way you’re going to stay home alone like this.”

“You shouldn’t be embarrassed, everybody gets sick.”

“I’m not going to take that personally, you’re high on meds.”

“You shouldn’t be walking around when you’re this sick.”

“You can barely stand, nevermind go out and do a full day’s work.”

“If you sneeze one more time, I’m going to start getting worried.”

“Baby… Are you sick?”

"Being sick is no fun, but it's a good excuse for extra snuggles."

“Do you need me to get you anything?”

“How about we just snuggle and watch some movies.”

”Bless you… Bless you! Are you okay- bless you again!”

“It’s not like you to get this sick.”

"I know you feel terrible, but you're still the strongest person I know."

“You really ought to be resting.”

“Can you make it back to the bedroom?”

“Hmm… I’m keeping my eye on you.”

“You’ll feel better if you go and lie down.”

"A little sniffle won't stop us from having a cosy movie night together."

“Stop sniffling and go blow your nose.”

“Maybe you should just take it easy.”

“You’re too stubborn for your own good.”

“You sound like you could use some more sleep.”

"Your sneezes are still adorable. Just saying."

“Aw sweetie, your nose is all runny.”

“Somebody’s certainly sneezy today.”

“Hey, hey, we can worry about that once you’re feeling better.”

“You’re past the contagious phase… right?”

“Make sure to drink plenty of fluids.”

“"I promise to disinfect every inch of the apartment.”

“Was it really worth getting soaked?”

"I'm not leaving your side until that adorable sniffle is gone."

“I told you to wear something warm.”

“Baby, I think this is more than just the sniffles.”

“There’s no way that you’d make it past lunch in your condition.”

"I've got a whole movie list ready for us to binge-watch.”

“We could shower together if that’d make you feel any better.”

“Goodness, you look like your about to pass out.”

“Baby you’re delirious.”

“Do you need me to carry you?”

“You’ve been sniffling all day.”

“Those sniffles of yours really turning into something, huh?”

”There's way you're going out. Not with that cold.”

“You’re looking a bit pale sweetheart.”

“Use a tissue for god's sake!”

“You’re not one to go quiet, what's up?”

“My poor baby is all sniffly, aren’t you?”

“Oh honey… You can't be outside like this.”

“Don’t be offended or anything. But you look horrible.”

“I think you caught my cold…”

“It sounds like you’ve caught that bug going round.”

“You’re in bed early. You feeling alright?”

“Oh my god. You’re completely burning up!”

“I think your fever is spiking.”

“We should get you into bed.”

"I'll be right here by your side until you're back to your kickass self."

“Cmon, let's get you into the shower.”

“You need a tissue?”

"I'm canceling all our plans for today.”

“Jeez, blow your nose before you drown in your own mucus.”

“Don’t worry, I'm gonna take care of you.”

“How long have you been like this?”

"Don't worry about the chores or errands. Your only job now is to focus on getting better."

“If you’re trying to be subtle, I'm sorry but you’re doing an awful job.”

“I bet I could toast a marshmallow on your forehead.”

“I think you have the flu, nobody’s ever this sick with a cold.”

“Come on, let's get you wrapped in warm.”

“Let’s get you in the shower.”

“We’re gonna stop at the pharmacy, okay?”

“You’re home early?”

“Do you not see how pale you are right now?”

“Cut the crap. I know you’re sick.”

“Hush now, otherwise you’re going to lose your voice.”

“I don’t think that’s exactly hygienic.”

“You’re kinda cute when you’re all sick and needy like this.”

“I'm going to give you some tissues and pretend I never saw that.”

“If you don’t get into bed willingly then I will personally carry you there.”

“I thought you said that you were feeling better?”

“You don’t need to be embarrassed; you’re allowed to be sick.”

“Are the rumours true, is the (name) actually sick?”

“I’d kiss you right now if you weren’t contagious.”

“You’re too stubborn for your own good.”

"Oh, darling, you look positively adorable with that sniffly nose of yours."

“I told you that you should stay home from work today.”

“Okay Ms I’m-not-sick, tell me why you sneezed five times in the span of an hour.”

“Are you done pretending you’re fine?”

“The only place you’re going is back to bed.”

"You always push yourself so hard, but it's okay to take a break sometimes."

“Did you manage to get much sleep? I heard you tossing and turning all night.”

“You’ve really got the sniffles today, haven’t you?”

“I’m not leaving you until I know you’re better, and that’s final.”

"When were you planning to tell me you were sick?"

"You're the strongest person I know, but even the strongest need some rest."

"If there's anything you need, don't hesitate to ask. I'm here for you."

"You're sick. If you overexert yourself, you're gonna get sicker."

“Great… Now I have your germs all over me.”

"I'm here to nurse you back to health, so just focus on getting better."

“I swear to god, if you don’t get back in bed, I will physically drag you there.”

“Your boss called me to come pick you up.”

"It's okay, you don't need to worry about getting me sick."

"Did you seriously hide the thermometer?"

"I love you with or without the sniffles, but I'll admit, the sniffles do make you even cuter."

#sickfic prompts #sickfic #prompts #prompt list #writing prompts #fluff #comfort #snz #fluff prompts #comfort prompts

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everythingyouwanted · 2 years

Text

Oh, My Darling

Okayyy so, this is my first Harry Potter piece! The books are my favorite thing (my bsf and I just rewatched the movies), and I have a soft spot for our favorite dungeon bat. And I've been feeling a tad bit under the weather for a week now so this is a sweet little sick comfort fic about him! And this is not Starwars, and I know the majority of my followers are SW people so I’m sorry!!

This is a Professor Snape x Student Reader thing, its clean, but I know thats unnerving to some!

WC: 763, everyone be proud, this is actually short!

Severus Snape Sick Reader comfort fic!

You woke up late, so late. You'd already missed breakfast, and a couple of classes. More than being late, you're sick. Who knows what you caught, but Gods are you sick. Coughing and stuffy and sneezing.

So, naturally, you're now clumsily running about the Hogwarts halls desperately trying to get to your Potions class. There was barely anyone else in the corridors, which was understandable, considering the extent of your lateness.

You've finally made it to Snape's classroom, dizzy and wheezing and coughing. Knocking on the door with a heavier hand than you intended.

"Ah, Miss y/l/n, I see you've finally made it to class. Sit down, y/l/n" Professor Snape is scary. He’s scary on a daily basis, but now? Now he’s angry. He’s quite troubling when he’s angry at someone else, but now you’re on the receiving end of it.

You tuck your head and scurry to your seat at the back of his class. “And y/n?” Your head flew up, “Detention.” Snape was staring you down now.

“Um,” you wiped your nose with your sleeve, “Yes, Professor.” You felt like throwing up, the mucus and anxiety pooling in your stomach.

* * *

The class period was long, you sat there for what felt like hours, trying not to cry, because crying hurt, and trying to stay awake in vain. Your lungs were burning from trying to keep your coughing in.

Everyone was leaving the classroom, the dungeon.

“Miss y/l/n, come here.” Snape looked at you, almost daring you to test him. He looked something like a menace, standing tall beneath his robes under the candlelight.

“Yes,” While you were attempting to stand and cross the room to him, got cut off by your coughing. Coughing quickly turned to breathless wheezing.

Snape quickly realized that you weren’t going to be crossing the room anytime soon, so he crossed the room to you. “Y/N, Y/N look at me. Okay, sit. Sit! Just try to breathe for me, that's it. Good girl.” Professor Snape’s voice was soft, significantly kinder than what it had been only minutes ago.

“I’m sorry, ugh, I’m sorry Professor. I didn’t mean to be late!” You were desperately trying to make him understand that you didn’t want to be late. “I swear, I enjoy your class, potions, potions are so cool!” By now you were back to crying and wheezing.

Snape was staring at you now, looking at you with something adjacent to care. If you weren’t dizzy and running a fever, you’d trust yourself enough to believe that Severus Snape was borderline smiling.

“Yes, Y/N, you’re a brilliant student. I know that. You’re good, be good and breathe.” He was standing over you, beckoning you to breathe, holding your hand. And so you tried.

“Good job, good girl.” You were still looking at him, finally breathing.

“I’m sorry, Professor.” Gods, you sounded pathetic. Exhausted as ever, your breathless fit took the little energy you had from when you overslept.

“No, sit,” he said. You were still sitting at your desk, “You need to sit. Are you ill? Why would you attempt to come to class? Do you think that was smart?” Snape’s brow was furrowed as he spoke at you.

Eye’s drooping and pulse slowing, all you wanted to do was go back to sleep. All cohesive thoughts were gone, and so you dropped your head back down to the desk.

Snape looks down at you, taking in the bags under your eyes and the way your hair rippled on the desk. He removed his own cloak and gently placed it over your body, soaking up the way you snuggled into the heavy cloth.

“Oh, my darling. Sleep, I’ll be here,” Snape, the horrible Severus Snape, was being kind. “And then you’ll be seeing the doctor.” Now you had already fallen asleep, feverish and warm and more comfortable than you’ve been in weeks, under his watch. The professor waved over a velveted pillow with the flick of his wand.

He placed the pillow gently under your head and replaced his cloak around your body before he placed a light hand on your forehead, feeling your fever.

The ever brilliant Professor Snape, clear headed Snape, now had thoughts that he usually would deem as distractions.

'Is she okay? Are her lungs okay? The wheezing sounded bad. I need her to go to the doctor, but she needs to rest…'

He would worry about these things later, now, now he was going to watch you sleep and be there when you woke up.

#severus snape x reader #severus snape fluff #severus snape #snape x reader #im sooo sorry for this #its unedited #i told you this was a multifandom thing #im begging someone to like this

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lavishedinjimin · 3 years

Note

Hi! For kinky hours can I request a wolf hybrid Namjoon and bunny hybrid OC?

I love this prompt!! I purposefully made Namjoon "shapeshift into a wolf" while still being a hybrid, so he's also technically also a werewolf in this one? Either way, this was incredibly fun to write omg

warning: all characters are intended to be 18+. I do not write, and I never intend to write underaged OCs

Wandering through the forest with your herd, you hate how your ears pick up even the smallest bit of sound. The grown-ups would always tell you that they're a blessing, enabling you to hear any possible danger that's coming in your way, but you don't want to use it.

You were a dependent little thing, playful and oftentimes mischievous. You follow your family with a huff and a puff as you journey to find a new home.

But you were still young, still naive and the world can easily distract you — just like this pretty yellow butterfly that crash-landed right onto your nose.

You sneeze as the little insect tickled your nostrils. Following the butterfly in a new direction, you take interest in it as if it wants to show you something.

"Hey!" you meekly call out to the butterfly, your feet struggling as you make your way through many huge logs and branches, "Where are you taking me? I h-have to get back to my family!"

The butterfly takes you to a river until it flies up and up into the air, leaving you there to stand alone. You call out for it, reaching your hand up, but it was no use.

Looking around your surroundings, you feel a tight sensation in your chest as you attempt to figure out how to get out of the area. You were completely lost, all alone, and worried that someone, something might get you.

You sniffle, fighting back the tears as your ears droop down. "Stupid butterfly..."

You carefully walk along the riverbank, your soft footsteps being the only sound aside from the leaves in the trees whooshing as the wind brushes past them.

It dawned upon you that you were in serious trouble.

Suddenly, to your left, you heard a branch split. The sound frightens you and you hastily try to find what made that noise. With your curious nature coming to play, you step closer to the bushes, your nostrils flaring as you use your sense of smell to your advantage.

"Hello?" you shout, "Is anyone here? Come out! I need help!"

A swift force abruptly knocks your body over, making you yelp, until you realize that it was a much bigger animal, five times bigger than you. Your body rolls along the grass with the animal's four legs wrapped around you. You release a shriek when you realize that it was a wolf. It was panting, salivating, and clearly hungry.

Wolves eat bunnies.

"No! Let me go!" you attempt to pry him away, using your feet but he was stronger than you. "Please! Let me go! I n-need to get back to my family!"

The wolf's eyes glow red and it growls paramountly, the rough and rugged sound resonating throughout the woods. This automatically switches on the tears to fall.

You sniffle and cry in absolute fear, but the wolf has you trapped.

"Don't kill me, please," you cover your face in your arms, "I'm sorry!"

You waited and waited for something to happen, for things to escalate, but there was only silence after that.

You carefully remove your arms, peeking to see what happened to the wolf. Then, it suddenly transformed into a hybrid, half-animal, and half-human, just like you. You thought that it was just a regular real wolf!

He kneels between your hips as if straddling your thighs. Your eyes scan his buff, muscular body, his furry tail swaying behind him and his acute gray ears were pointed up in the air. He stares at you with wide eyes.

"I-I..." he speaks, his voice thick and monotone, "I'm sorry, bunny. I couldn't control myself."

"Please don't do anything to me," you whimper when the hybrid leans closer to you, bringing his lips to your neck, "please... I w-want to go back."

Namjoon ignores your protests and cries and allows his tongue to lick a big, aggressive stripe along your neck. "Oohhh," you shiver, your eyes widening, "what are you doing?"

You've never felt this feeling before as something inside you feels fuzzy. Namjoon uses his strength to grab your wrists and pin them above your head. He creates a deep, growling noise while he firmly grinds his hips into yours.

"Hey — mmmh — what's going on with you?!" your eyes roll back to your head when he suddenly wraps a hand around your throat.

His eyes turn red again.

"You smell and taste so fucking good, little bunny. I d-don't think I can stop..." Namjoon shows you his canines as his animalistic side overpowers him, "such an innocent little bunny wandering alone in the forest, I couldn't help but follow your cute ass."

"A-Aaah," your body shivers when he cups his hand against your heat, his fingers teasing you as they stroke up and down.

"Aw, bunny," Namjoon coos, watching the way your face contorts into pleasure, "I wanna fuck you so bad."

"What?" you sniffle, nose red from crying, "Fuck? What's that?"

Namjoon's dick instantly grows rock-hard from the soft, subdued tone of your voice. He comes closer until his nose touches yours, "It means, bunny," Namjoon growls to tease you, smirking as he watches your body tremble in fear, "It means that I want to put my cock inside you, bury it so deep inside your cute and tight cunt, until I coat you with my seed."

Namjoon immediately encloses your body with his own strength when he feels you squirming, a cry falling off your lips. "No one can save you now, bunny. You and I, we're all alone in this river. You scream, I cover your mouth. You try to run, well—" he chuckles, "I'm a hundred times faster than you. You bite me, I bite you back."

Your eyes were big as you stare into him, breathing heavily. His words somehow made you feel as though you're falling into a deep headspace, your mind fogging up.

"There's no need to escape, bunny. I know you want this, I can fucking smell how aroused you are. That pussy's leaking for me."

He checks to see if he was correct, "See?" he brings his hand back up to reveal his sticker, wet fingers, "see what I do to you? You won't admit it, but I know that you're loving this as much as I do, bunny."

Without a warning, Namjoon flips you over so that your stomach lays on the ground. Namjoon rips all your clothing, making you shiver as the cold wind touches your skin. Namjoon waits no time to push his throbbing dick inside you, your ass and bushy tail in full display for him.

You wince from how big and thick he was, his cock stretching your walls apart like no one has done before. Your hands dig into the soil, eyes closing shut as a tear falls down to your cheeks. "Awwh, t-that feels..." you moan, "feels so—aaahhh!"

Namjoon spanks your ass then digs his claws into your plump cheeks as he thrusts the rest of his cock deep inside of you. He fucks you so roughly that with each pound, your smaller build was jolting back and forth. You couldn't keep up with his pace, feeling lightheaded already.

"Ohh, that's it," he snarls, "take that big dick inside that cunt. Your moans are so fucking delicious. You make me fucking mad," Namjoon's forehead and neck accumulate a layer of sweat as he uses your body for his pleasure. "Do you like this, huh? Does your sweet, little bunny pussy likes the feeling of being fucked for the first time?"

"Yessss, o-ohhh, it feels good," you pant, "t-thank you."

Namjoon feels himself getting cocky, "Told you so. I'm not gonna let you go, I hope you know that. You're gonna be my little fuck bunny forever."

#namjoon smut #bts kinky hours open #bts wolf au #dom namjoon #rm smut

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sofiaaaaaaaa03 · 3 years

Text

Comms

Title: Comms

Pairing: Din Djarin x GN! Teen reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Rating: PG

Warning: Cursing, mention of wounds, blood, scared Mando.

Description: In an unexpected raid, Din finds himself unable to find his foundlings and searches for them.

Request: Hey! I love your stories and thought that I would submit a request myself. So this is about Din having a teen foundling/adopted child. They’ve known each other for a little over a year now and even if they don’t show it a lot they’ve grown attached to each other. So this particular story would be about the foundling nearly dying and Din being a scared Dad (I hope you get what I’m going for. Kind of a fluff/Angst story with comforting afterwards😅)

A/N: I'm so sorry this took forever to write, I've been travelling and my computer has been messing up so I have not had time to write at all. Anyways, here it is! I hope it's to your liking. It took me awhile for inspiration to hit but I am pretty happy with how it ended up. Enjoy!

....

“Okay kid, what do we do when we get in trouble?”

“Call for help and signal our location.”

Call for help and signal your location. That was all you were supposed to do, the one rule Din gave for you before he took you along with him anywhere outside of the safety of the Razor Crest. He considered himself lucky that you rarely wandered off without letting Din know where you were going, and that you always seemed to be able to handle most dangerous situations on your own. Maybe it was because you fretted to be too much of a bother for Din, seeing as he took you in almost a year ago when he could have easily left you. Din didn’t see it that way, if he was honest. You were valuable to the group, taking care of Grogu and the ship when Din could not, and he believed it his duty to protect all on the ship. Only once or twice did you call for him, and he was quick to come to your aid.

He did not think that today would be the day where his timing risked your life.

The Mandalorian found himself aiding a local trading village with a raider issue in exchange for information about a bounty he’d been pursuing. He’d led a group of men over to what they’d suspected to be the raider’s hideout and set up for an ambush. The Entrance of the cave’s dunes felt barren, and only after the mens’ legs grew sore from crouching and backs ached from huddling in the dark was it that Din began to suspect something was wrong. The quiet environment was abnormal behavior to the raiders he’d encountered before, no doubt this specific group would be any different.

“They’ll see you!”

Startling the men surrounding him, Din shot into the air and stalked the vicinity. The dunes’ walls stretched for meters long as he kept his piece raised, occasionally scanning weak spots for life forms or any piece of equipment. He paused, frowning a moment when his scanner detected nothing.

That was the first sign that things weren’t going as planned that day.

“...hiss…”

“...m..do... v.llage... here…”

There was the second.

Din raised his arm to speak into his comms.

“Y/N?” Nothing but static came back from the comms. Din fidgeted and smacked it a couple times before grunting in frustration.

Damn, comms were jammed.

Wait, they were jammed.

And in a moment of a horrible realization, Din was quick to grab the men and make their way back to the village. When they arrived they found the village in chaos- buildings were burning, villagers running, and materials and pieces and bodies strewn across the ground. For a moment, Din froze in fear and worried that you were on the ground as well, your comms still ringing static and Grogu taken from you, lost to the raiders, or worse, the Empire.

Din quickly made his way throughout the village, barely rounding the first corner when a group of raiders assaulted him. He threw punches at the first raider, using their momentum to kick them hard into another. After several dodges and shots from his blaster, most of them were dead aside from one that laid on the ground and clutched his blasted leg.

Din marched over and pressed his blaster against the wound. “Where are the hostages being held?”

As it turned out, the raiders had no plan of keeping hostages. When Din finally tracked the building where captives were supposedly held, he was unable to remain collected when he found that you and Grogu were nowhere to be found. Instead, he stood before raiders responsible for the attack, their blasters disturbingly put away as they argued amongst one another. Din didn’t bother listening, he looked around but saw no sign of his foundlings.

“Wrong door.” He said simply before taking out his blaster and shooting the raiders.

Pocketing his piece Din ran out of the stronghold and went outside, calling for you and Grogu. He thought about the worst possible scenarios that could have happened to you two as he took out the raiders pillaging the village, until all but one remained, the leader. He found him in the main courtyard of the village, his face hidden though his body seethed with labored breaths. He stood there for several moments before Din heard one last labored breath before the leader’s legs buckled beneath him and he slumped to the ground with a sickening crack of skull on stone. Hm? Din didn’t know what to make of this, and further stalked over, hand on blaster, examining the body. Upon closer look a blaster wound to the stomach was made more visible. So, someone got to the leader before Din could. That leaves the question… who?

A quick look around the area pointed out a trail of blood.

The Mandalorian followed this trail without any real reason behind it.

He found the remainder of the villagers at some point along the way. Sullen masses of faces mixed together, mourning the loss of their villages and lost ones but kept busy with treating the wounded. Women sat in huddles cooking with what food was salvaged and children sat quiet. One stood out apart from the rest in Din’s eyes, a large male leaning over a group of medics. Din recognized him as Cyrukee, the villager’s chief, who noticed the lone bounty hunter from the corner of his eye and stood up. In his arms was the most beautiful thing Din had seen all day, Grogu. The baby gurgled in joy as he walked up to the chief.

“There you are.” Din didn’t realize that he was holding his breath when he sighed in relief, taking Grogu into his arms.

“Sir.” Cryukee barely got a word out before Din turned to him.

“I’m looking for a youngling- my kid. Have you seen them?”

“Sir, please.”

“They’re this tall,” Din rears a hand near to your height, “they were with this little green baby. Your husband, he took them to the school. Where is he?” The Mandalorian made a full turn around to look for the red robed headman who was last responsible for your care. He reached for his comms and tried to reach you again. His voice rang back at him, and in a terrible moment of realization he realized that that was your comms.

“Where are they?”

“Sir, let me explain.” Cyrukee wore an exasperated expression and looked as though he was about to speak before one of the medics from the group he was with requested to speak with him. He spared a glance at Din as though he struggled whether or not to say something. And then, Din followed his arm towards the medics he was just with. Din didn’t know what to make of it, not able to recognize any of them. The Mandalorian took one last look at the chief, whose grave expression gave him reason to worry, and slowly walked towards the group of medics. He buzzed through the comms, trying to pinpoint your location. As he got closer he heard medics speak in soothing voices and their patient hyperventilating. Had it not been his own voice coming from the center of the personnel he would have moved on, instead he could not find the will to move. Grogu looked at him expectantly.

One medic in particular took notice of the beskar-armored man. He and some others quickly got up and pushed Din away before he could force his way through the medics to take a look at you.

“Hey, wait-wait-please.” Din grunted at the force and staggered several steps back. He took a moment to collect himself and Grogu sneezed in his arms. Dust must have gotten into his nose during the scuffle. “Please, my ward- my kid. That’s my kid.”

“Just a moment,” one of the bloodied nurses kept her hands on Din’s chestplate longer than he would have liked. He didn’t push her away though.

“I need to see my kid.” Din looked her in the eye, hoping that she could see his desperation through his helmet.

His kid. When Din looks back on this he would think about how he’s never referred to Y/N as his own before. He would have liked to think he said that so the nurses allowed him to pass easier. But deep down, he knew it was because of how much he cared for them.

“I understand but please let me explain. Sir, Sir!” Din retreated in defeat on his second attempt to get past her and the other nurses. She stared into his eyes and patted his shoulders, Din didn’t know whether she was trying to comfort him or control his movements. “They’re traumatized enough right now, and you moving around in that armor of yours will only make it worse.”

“What happened to them?”

“They had an encounter with Jetwal,” Din’s blood boiled at the recognition of the raider’s leader who’d died before him. “according to the children, your child was leading them to the outskirts when he found them. They killed him, he was threatening the children, and they shot him. Now, listen to me. They did get injured. Several blaster wounds to their limbs and upper torso- sir, listen please I cannot allow you to go to them just yet- they’re still panicking right now but I assure you their wounds are being treated right now. They’ll be fine, but disrupting our work will only inhibit us from treating them properly.”

She watched his gaze linger to the sound of your crying. “How much longer until I can see them?”

Din was not pleased to find that he was only allowed to see you when the nurse came for him herself. Reluctantly he walked a little farther away from the medics when asked to give them more space, and sat down with Grogu bouncing on his knee next to a young Twi’lek running their hands over their lekku to soothe themselves. Between glancing at the medics to keeping Grogu entertained, Din didn’t realize how much time had elapsed before noticing the nurse had come to his side to collect him.

She took a seat next to him. “They’re hurt very badly, but with time their injuries will heal. All they need to do is rest. You can see them now.”

Grogu giggled and played with the nurse’s finger that was threateningly wiggling on his little tummy. “Can you take him for a moment?”

Din stood up and gave Grogu a pat on his little head and rubbed his large ears out of habit. Something you used to do to calm the little green alien down after a terrible meltdown. Even under his helmet Din smiled at the alien before dredging towards you. You laid on a pile of fabrics that functioned as a makeshift cot, but you looked like you had a pile of fabrics on you with the amount of bandages that wrapped your body. You didn’t notice Din approaching you as you stared straight into the sky. Din wondered what you were thinking. What could you be thinking? From his knowledge, this was your first time dealing with major injuries from blasters. It must have made this whole ordeal so much more frightening to you.

Maybe Din was too light on his feet, recoiling instantly when you jolted at his touch and groaned in pain.

“It’s me, it’s me.” His voice was soothing, even more than normal which surprised him.

A sort of wheeze escaped your lips and you coughed. “Mando.”

“Hey kid.”

“I tried calling for you.” A gasp. “They jammed the frequencies.”

“Your message barely came through, kid. But it made us realize what was going on. We got here before more damage could be done because of you.”

Your form relaxed. “Good, good. Grogu?”

“With a nurse.” “The one with the sweet voice.”

“Yeah.”

“I liked her voice-” A cough. “Sounds like my mom’s. She was nice. She helped calm me down.” At this point Din had stared at you long enough to realize how puffy your eyes were from crying. He didn’t stop himself from reaching over to brush your H/C hair out of your face. You leaned into his touch.

“I’m pretty fucked up, huh?”

Your eyes were already locked onto his when he met your gaze. A tick passed, and Din’s eyes fell to the wounds you were referring to. He shook his head. “No, kid. That’s not what you are.”

“Feels like it.” Din scowled at your words.

“There are too many fucked up people in the galaxy, kid. You´re not one of them.” You look at him with a raised brow. “Y/N, you barely have any combat experience yet you took on Jetwal? What were you thinking?”

And you said something that surprised him.

“I was thinking of you.”

And Din couldn’t find any words. He cleared his throat and you continued, “We were alone and I had no idea when you’d come, I was scared something had happened to you because I couldn’t get a hold of you through the comms and that guy was coming at us and-” You inhaled sharply, wincing at what Din assumed was a jab in one of your wounds but he didn’t know how to help. You calmed a moment later, closing your eyes and furling your brows together. “I thought about what you would have done if you were there. You always looked like you knew what to do.”

To say that Din was proud of you would have been an understatement, he was beaming wonders underneath his helmet but realized that you couldn’t see through the beskar.

“I thought I’d lost you both.” Din admitted. “But I’m very proud of you. You saved lives, Y/N. That’s no easy feat for someone of your age.”

You grinned at him and laughed. “Did you do something like this when you were my age?”

“Yes, but I didn’t end up as fucked up as you did.” “Hey!” Din laughed and raised his forearm to block your playful hits.

A moment of silence falls between the two of you before you look at Din again. “Do you know how long we’ll be here for?”

“With your injuries, no clue. I’ll talk to the medics and Cyrukee to see what is to be done.”

“Okay.” You nodded, your fingers twitching involuntarily. Din’s hands find their way to your hair again. “Mando, I’m tired.”

“Rest. I’ll be here with you.” He watches you half-heartedly nod at his words and doze off in a matter of seconds. The injuries have taken a toll on your body, Din suspects, and he pulls a sheet over you. He sits with you, watching villagers talk amongst themselves, speaks with those who come by to thank him for his help, and accepts Grogu from the nurse when she comes over, thanking her for all she’d done for you. She told him that a thank you was not owed to her, and that if you were to need anything she was only a call away.

And when he was finally left alone, Mandalorian took one look to take account for his two foundlings. They slept soundly and with luck, heads full of dreams. Most importantly, they were safe in his care once again.

Din realized he’d been holding in a breath, and exhaled a sigh of relief.

.....

Taglist:

@kiara-is-gay @pcotato @sagedgeek

#din djarin x teen!reader #din dijarin fanfiction #din djarin x y/n #din djarin is a dad #din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #din djarin #grogu #mandalorian and grogu #star wars x y/n #star wars requests #star wars x you #star wars x reader #star wars reader insert #star wars fanfiction

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sunwoo-hoo · 3 years

Text

↣ the boyz reaction to s/o feeling stressed

↳ a/n: hello my lovelies! we are back with another tbz reaction! side note, with every reaction i get it’s going to be canon with my ‘as your boyfriend series’ so keep that in mind when requesting. this is for the lovely anon who requested this. i hope you enjoy it. ☻ 18+ due to language

↳ genre: fluff? slight angst? i don’t even know someone tell me

↳ requested? yes

↳ send me your requests here!

↳ word count: 3.4k

↳ the boyz x fem reader

「 Lee Sangyeon 」

you normally weren’t one to get stressed out often but when your job decided to give you a promotion you weren’t expecting the extra workload it would bring

you got assigned to one of the major projects your company was working on and slowly but surely you felt your energy draining with each day passing by

even though sangyeon was extremely busy as well he was worried about you

after coming home from a long day of practice sangyeon noticed when you weren’t in the front foyer to give him his welcome home kiss like you usually did

as he walked to your bedroom he saw you sitting by the desk typing away at your computer

as he made his way towards you he squatted down slightly to give you a warm cheek kiss

“hey baby, how about you take a break huh? you’ve been working so hard, let me cook something for you” he insisted

“hmm? oh.. okay, i’m sorry sangyeon, work has been driving me up the wall lately i didn’t mean to shut you out” you mumbled

he gave you a small smile as he stroked your cheek before replying “don’t worry about it baby i just don’t want you to overwork yourself” he said

during your break sangyeon is cooking you dinner, listening to all your troubles and even trying his best to help you with your project. by the end of the night expect a lot of cuddles and kisses.

「 Jacob Bae 」

stress was something you’ve always experienced, especially being a university student finishing your final year

jacob was super supportive of your dreams always helping you study in any way he can

sometimes even distracting you to get your mind off it so that you wouldn’t burn out

but as final exams were just around the corner you were so stressed to the point that you cried and threw your book across the table in frustration

jacob turned his head and quickly took notice since he was only a couple of feet away reading a book which he swiftly set down and rushed to your side

“oh babe, don’t cry please, i promise it’s going to be okay” he whispered as he wiped your tears away

you completely broke down sobbing uncontrollably onto jacob’s sleeve as he held you close giving you hushed praise

“how about we go and rest for a little? a nap would be good for you” he softly asked as you simply nodded

jacob helped you up as you made your way to your bedroom where he made it relaxing as possible turning on the air humidifier and lighting a lavender candle. he also made sure that the curtains were closed so that the room was dark enough to fall asleep to

soon enough your drifting into a calming sleep in jacob’s arms.

「 Kim Younghoon 」

it had been 3 months since you’ve started dating kim younghoon, your relationship was everything you could’ve dreamed of. it was absolutely perfect with no flaws what so ever.

with all that in mind you started to wonder why you both hadn’t exchange i love you’s. you knew younghoon felt strongly for you, always making sure you were taken care of, constantly hugging and kissing you.

the whole situation started to stress you out and make you second guess everything

you loved younghoon but you had to admit you were a bit apprehensive on saying it first, since you didn’t know what younghoon’s response would be.

he could’ve said it back, or worse, not say anything at all.

one evening when younghoon was sleeping over your place you decided then and there that you were going to muster up your courage and finally say the three words you’ve been stressing over.

as you both were watching t.v his arms draped over your shoulders you looked up over at younghoon who was fixated on the drama that was playing. you cleared your throat

“younghoon.. i have to tell you something… something i’ve been wanting to tell you for awhile now” you announced hesitantly

as he looked over at you he adjusted his body to fully look at you face on

“really? i actually have something to say as well” he replied

your ears perked as you continued “how about we say it at the same?”

he nodded smiling before counting down “3…2…1..”

“i love you” you said “i’m in love with you” he whispered

you breathed the biggest sigh of relief before sliding in his lap giving him the softest kiss as you felt younghoon’s arms around your waist

「 Lee Hyunjae 」

your relationship with hyunjae was many things, exciting, passionate, intense. never in a million years would you think it would be stressful, or let me rephrase: you never thought it would be this stressful

you received a text message from hyunjae one afternoon saying that he needed to talk to you and that it was important

at that moment your mind was going through so many options on what it could be, your thoughts becoming worse and worse.

oh god is this it? he wants to beak up with me

did he cheat on me? i’ll fucking kill him if he did

oh my god what if he’s not in love with me anymore?

as your mind was going a mile a minute you finally broke out of your daze when your friend who you were out to lunch with told you that it probably wasn’t all that bad and that you should trust hyunjae.

when the evening finally rolled around you went to visit hyunjae just right when he got home from practice.

“hey baby” he smiled giving you a peck on the lips, giving him a small you replied “hey” back as you two sat on the sofa

“so what’s going on?” you asked as you were rubbing your palms against your knees trying to get rid of the sweat

hyunjae instantly noticed your anxious aura and grabbed your hands holding them tightly giving them a kiss

“well, we’ve been dating for almost a year now and i think it’s time.. for you to meet my parents” he said proudly

you blinked a couple of times as your brain still hadn’t registered the information he just said

“i want them to meet the girl i’m madly in love with” he continued

when you finally heard his words your first instinct was to hit hyunjae’s arm

“ah! hey! what was that for?” he shouted rubbing his arm

“jesus christ hyunjae i thought you were breaking up with me!” you shouted back

he laughed grabbing your waist pulling you close on his lap putting his head in the crook of your neck “i could never” he whispered giving your neck a light kiss

「 Lee Juyeon 」

to say that you were having a bad week was the understatement of the year.

it all started when you caught the flu, you felt horrible. it was constant sneezing, throwing up, runny nose, all of it.

you started to feel stressed when juyeon risked his safety getting sick to take care of you. you especially didn’t want him getting sick when the boyz comeback was nearly a month away.

you told him that you could take care of yourself, but juyeon didn’t take no for an answer.

you had to admit even though you were sick you couldn’t deny that you loved having juyeon with you 24/7 he was being the perfect boyfriend getting you tea, wet cloths for your forehead, and making sure you took your medicine every night.

“open your mouth, good girl” he praised putting the spoonful of medicine in your mouth

“you know if i wasn’t sick you would be saying those exact words another way” you teased coughing slightly

juyeon smirked and kissed your forehead in response

slowly but surely after a week you were starting to feel better but then your sickness hit juyeon as predicted delaying the comeback for nearly two weeks.

「 Kevin Moon 」

it was a hard month for kevin, the boyz comeback had just started and he was stressing over all the performances and interviews wanting to make sure that each one was up to his standards

it was so bad that all his stress levels were slowing creeping up on you making you become stressed yourself

it was starting to effect your relationship and you knew you had to do something quick before you and kevin would get into a fight you were not mentally prepared for

the comeback was closing in on it’s last week and you had decided to make one evening extremely special pampering kevin.

you decided to make his favorite meal, wearing your sexy yet tasteful red dress, with your black lacy bra and matching panties for later activities.

as kevin walked into your apartment he noticed you immediately smiling at your attire

“hey babe, what’s all this?” he asked pointing to all the candles and dim lighting

“what do you mean? can’t i do something special for the man i love?” you replied innocently walking up to him giving him a soft kiss on the lips

as kevin deepened the kiss your back found it’s way to the cold wall behind you as kevin started to trail kisses along the side of your jaw making his way down to your neck

you were excited it wasn’t often that kevin was a dom but you had pressing matters to attend to first

“k-kevin wait… i want to talk first” you whimpered as he finally reached your sweet spot

kevin stopped immediately to your words and gave you a quick peck on lips before nodding

you grabbed his hand and made your way to the dining table where the food was most likely cold by now and sat down on the chair

“kev, i just wanted to talk about how you’ve been so stressed with this comeback and everything it’s.. it’s starting to effect our relationship” you mumbled

he sighed and agreed “i know it has, and i’m so sorry for that babe” he said grabbing your hand as he continued “i’ll promise to be better about it, you know that i don’t want to ruin what we have. i love you”

you smiled feeling 100 times better about the situation giving kevin a kiss on the cheek

you lightly laughed as you pulled apart “the dinner is totally cold now by the way”

“let’s just order a pizza, it probably wasn’t that good anyway” he teased before you shoved him playfully in response

「 Choi Chanhee 」

what was suppose to be a relaxing day off spending it with your boyfriend choi chanhee it drastically changed into a nightmare

you both decided to spend the day shopping for some new clothes together

at first you thought it was a cute idea, thinking you would get matching couple outfits so that you can coordinate for the upcoming summer season

but it quickly turned into a stressful day when chanhee wanted you to try on every shirt, every dress, and pants, you were starting to regret this little outing until you finally snapped at him

“love, you would look so cute in this why don’t you-”

“no!” you yelled quickly covering your mouth at your sudden outburst in public

chanhee gave you a puzzled look not expecting your sudden change in mood

you quickly apologized not wanting to start a fight in public, pulling him to the side of the store where it was secluded from prying eyes

“chanhee… i’m sorry it’s just i’m tired i thought this would be fun but it’s stressing me out, it’s all too much” you sighed looking down at your shoes

chanhee pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear and lifted your head up with his index finger

“oh love, don’t apologize i should be the one apologizing i’m sorry for being excited, i just wanted to have a fun day with you, let’s go home okay?” he reassured kissing your temple

「 Ji Changmin/Q 」

you had it all planned out, you were going to introduce your friends to your wonderful boyfriend ji changmin

you ultimately thought that they should finally meet him after dating for nearly 4 months

at first you had no idea why you decided to wait this long, considering you already met all the members and were close to each of them

you were extremely nervous and stressed for their first interaction you just wanted everything to be perfect with smooth sailing

changmin was going to meet two of your closest friends who were also a couple themselves

it was a chilly fall day when you all decided to meet up at a nearby cafe changmin’s hand in yours trying to warm it up blowing on it while pressing kisses

“don’t worry babe, it’s all going to work out fine” he smiled easing your nervousness

when you finally made it to the cafe your friends were already waiting and quickly made introductions

they easily took noticed when changmin ordered your drink he knew you loved and paid for everything with his card as your friends gave you hushed whispers

“wow, he’s such a gentlemen” she gushed “yeah, and he even knew your order by heart” he replied giving you a thumbs up

you smiled when changmin returned with both of your orders giving you a cheek kiss when he sat down

to your surprise the conversation between the four of you went smoothly changmin easily wooing them with his charms and cheerful aura

your friends especially had a million questions when it came to his idol life out of general curiosity

changmin didn’t mind at all answering every single one with ease even laughing at the humorous ones

your heart melted at the interaction when you realized in the end you had nothing to worry about

「 Juhaknyeon 」

you knew juhaknyeon always loved your home cooking as he was always excited whenever he came home from practice knowing he would have a hot meal ready for him

but this time was different, you weren’t just cooking for him but cooking for his parents who so happen to be visiting you two

you met juhaknyeon’s parents before who were very down to earth and humble people always making you feel welcomed

but you had to admit you were a bit stressed trying to live up to the expectations

it was less than a couple of hours away before they would be arriving and you were running around the supermarket with juhaknyeon on your tail

“babe, slow down your gonna run out of energy” he grunted breathing heavily

“juhak you don’t understand your parents opinion mean the world to me, i want them to love my cooking” you said looking down at your hands trying to decide between the beef or pork belly

juhaknyeon gave you a side hug pulling you close “they are going to love whatever you make, because i love it too” he promised kissing the top of your head

when you finally made it back to the dorms and cooked up a storm that would’ve fed all 11 members juhakyeon’s parents finally made an appearance

after the quick greetings and the light scolding from juhak’s mother telling him to keep his room neater she finally took in your food spread

“wow! it all looks amazing [name] i’m sure it taste wonderful too” she smiled warmly pinching your cheek lightly

when you all finally sat down to eat you anxiously waited for juhakyeon’s parents comments

after a couple of bites juhak’s mother proudly exclaimed “it’s delicious [name] really! everything taste amazing, i’m so happy our son found someone who can feed him like this” she praised

you bowed your head thanking her for her positive comments as haknyeon grabbed your hand under the table squeezing it giving you a wink

「 Kim Sunwoo 」

you loved your mother dearly, but she was starting to text and call you nearly everyday about when you and sunwoo were finally going to get married

even though you loved sunwoo and were dating for a year and half you told her that it wasn’t a good time yet. sunwoo had major responsibilities when it came to his idol life

not to mention that you and sunwoo were still very young and just wanted to enjoy being together before you had to tackle even more responsibilities like marriage

you were laying in bed when you got off the phone with your mother after another hour long call

you sighed staring at ceiling fan feeling pressured and stressed when sunwoo walked in the bedroom

“hey babe, have you seen my adidas hoodie?” he wondered as he saw you looking emotionless at the ceiling

he hovered over you waving his hands across your face trying to get your attention

“hm? oh sorry it’s behind the door in the bathroom” you mumbled

sunwoo swiftly climbed on top of you resting his chin on your chest “what’s wrong babe? who was on the phone?” he asked

you hesistantly replied “it’s just my mother, she keeps wondering when.. well.. she keeps asking when we’re getting married” you laughed lightly

sunwoo smirked “oh really? close your eyes” he instructed

confused you did as you were told as you felt sunwoo get off you hearing the sound of the dresser opening

“okay now open” he said as you saw sunwoo with your own two eyes on his knee with a black velvet box in his hands

“sunwoo oh my god, don’t do this to me i-i’m” you stammered as you felt your hands begin to shake

he smiled and open the box where you saw a gorgeous sterling silver infinity ring with a small diamond in the middle

“[name] this isn’t an engagement ring, it’s a promise. a promise to always love you and cherish you, and to always respect you. i am going to marry you one day, when we’re both ready. i’ve never loved anyone as much as i love you” he vowed putting the ring on your finger

you then felt the tears flow grabbing his face with both your hands giving him a longing kiss falling back on the bed with him on top of you

as sunwoo began to take off his shirt that’s when you saw his necklace with the same infinity symbol as your ring

you smiled as you grabbed his necklace pulling him back down for another kiss

「 Eric Sohn 」

it was official you wanted to kill eric, he knew you were afraid of heights. yet he manage to persuade you on getting on an airplane to go to okinawa for a weekend getaway trip

you loved that he put so much thought into your weekend, making sure to pick the nicest hotel with a view by lots of restaurants and attractions

but you were beyond stressed, the only time you’ve been on an airplane is when you were little and moved to seoul from america, you barely remember the experience sleeping the entire trip

your body was shaking as you walked up the ramp finally boarding the airplane going to your seats

eric put away your luggage above the overhead bin and took the window seat hoping you would feel more comfortable being in the middle

as you took your seats your heart started to beat extremely fast and you started to breath heavily

eric took your hands in his “babe i promise it’s going to be okay flying is one of the safest ways to travel” he promised rubbing the side of your arm trying to calm you down

you nodded “no yeah your right i need to face my fears sometime” you bravely said

when the flight finally took off your nerves managed to subdued until you hit mild turbulence which freaked you out all over again

eric quickly grabbed his sleeping mask putting it over your eyes and large headphones with loud music trying to mask your senses which worked wonders as you lay your head on his shoulder

he held your hand tightly when you finally landed getting off the 2 hour flight

as you made your way to the hotel you were in awe of okinawa absorbing all the buildings and the mass of people walking by

you looked at eric “thank you eric this is amazing, i don’t think there’s anyone else i would trust to help me face my fears” you said bashfully

he leaned over and kissed your jaw “anytime babe” he murmured

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* © sunwoo-hoo 2 0 2 1 ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

281 notes · View notes

wri0thesley · 3 years

Note

omg wait no hold on I just requested overhaul but then I remembered your overhaul thirst post about him pulling a "curing hysteria~" as an excuse and thought I'd request something along that vibe (no oun intended). I think that'd fall under orgasm control, overstim? (hope this is okay!)

hysteria antidote - overhaul x fem!reader (4k)

seeing nothing but the same four walls every day of your life is playing havoc with your brain. overhaul thinks perhaps you're suffering from hysteria. he has the perfect cure for that.

cw: not sfw/minors dni. dark content!!! dubious/non-consent. captive reader. talk of death, blood, etc. medical kink, gloves, fingering, overstimulation, orgasm control. misogyny. mentions of pregnancy/breeding. afab reader, fem pronouns.

[a/n: idk the internet said the 28th of may was his birthday so consider this both a birthday fic and a fic to celebrate 6k followers, sorry that i am gross and horrible but tbh im having a great time <3]

You really don’t think it’s unreasonable for you to be going out of your mind.

Since the Boss was taken ill, and Kai – Overhaul, you remind yourself, though he’s always just a little less sharp with you when you trip over the new name than he is with anyone else – took over leadership of the Shie Hassaikai, you’ve been pretty much stuck indoors.

Considering that you’re pretty sure he only has fond feelings towards maybe three people in the entire world, including you, you guess you ought to feel special about it – but all it actually does is make you feel like a trapped bird, caged and restless. It doesn’t help that all of the other members of the organisation have started being weird around you; people who you’ve known most of your adult life, people who you’ve worked beside and killed beside and done other horrible things beside (for the good of the organisation, of course)--

But now, they look at you like you might break at any moment. They treat you like an invalid. Their brows crease when they see you out and about, quietly murmuring; “Shouldn’t you still be in your room?”, avoiding touching you at all costs. There’s a kind of fear in their eyes, that they’re going to be told off for even speaking to you, that they’re afraid of being caught close to you.

And you know exactly who’s to blame for that.

You’d tried to speak to him about it, once; you’d thought that perhaps he might be amenable to your desire to do something to help the Shie Hassaikai. He’s always wanted to restore them to their former glory, after all! But after you’d let out your little impassioned tirade, his eyebrows had creased over the bird-mask.

“You don’t sound well,” he’d said to you. “Go back to your room. I’ll talk to you about it later.”

You had missed, at the time, that he hadn’t said ‘we’ll talk about it later’. He’d just said ‘I’ll’. When he had come, that is how it had been; the reassurance that he was keeping you safe. That he didn’t want you to be tainted. That he was keeping you well.

Your quirklessness has never been an issue before, but it certainly hasn’t been a boon. Still, for Kai--

“It’s disgusting,” he’d said, agitated by the discussion. You’d stared at his hands, thinking about the destructive power he himself wielded. “Quirks are a curse, and you not having one is just proof you’re not infected.” He’d looked up, golden eyes piercing directly into yours. “I’m going to keep you perfect.”

Overhaul is not a doctor, for all of his talk about illness and disease and plague. You think he could have used his quirk for something meaningful, once; but you also know that his burning curiousity, his disgust of anyone who deems tainted, his utter lack of morality . . . those are all things that would not have been welcomed in the medical profession. So instead, he deals in needles and pills and altering drugs in the underground labyrinth of the compound.

Sterile rooms, with examination tables and scalpels and impersonal, silver-grey equipment. Pill boxes that rattle when he passes them to you and tells you to take three of those a day, one of those, that one has to be taken to with food--

The idea that you won’t take them doesn’t enter his head, and though he has never . . . overhauled someone in front of you, you have walked past other members of the organisation mopping and disinfecting blood and gristle from sterile flooring.

It is better to go along with him, so you take the supplements and the pills and submit to the way he grabs your chin in gloved hands on the doctor’s chair, tipping your face up to shine a light into your eyes and watch your pupils dilate. But inside, you are screaming.

You’re not made to be locked in one room, occasionally allowed out to pace the hallways of the upstairs – never the underground ones, not any more – with restless footsteps and your muscles fizzing with desire to taste fresh air. You’re not made to stare at the same walls and breathe the purified air and think about how empty the compound is, now that Overhaul is in charge of everything--

(Too many knick-knacks attract dust. Pollen allergies act up, if there are too many plants, and he hates hearing people sneeze. Furniture should be easily movable and barren, to assist in the twice-daily cleanings of every room that people walk through.)

But it’s getting too much for you. Suffocating. You feel like you’re choking on air all of the time; you take the pills, because the thought of what he could do to you is terrifying, but sometimes you wonder if perhaps it would be better if you didn’t.

You’d woken up that morning to the sound of rain hitting the high windows in your bedroom, and you had longed to go outside in your thin nightwear and spread your arms and taste the air, smell the rain, feel it hit your body in fat droplets. Your entire being had ached. You’d tried to distract yourself, with what little there was in the barren prison cell that you called a bedroom – but when the door opened at four thirty exactly, and Kai had stood there with his face as impassive as ever, you had not been able to stop yourself.

Hand fastening around his upper arm (you shouldn’t touch him, you know you shouldn’t, but the same four walls are getting to you), you’d begged him;

“I want to go outside.”

If anyone else had touched him like that, they would already be splattered against the walls and floor. But all you get is a furrow of his eyebrows, careful fingers (gloved, of course; the latex against your skin always makes you shudder) pinching at your hand to get you to let go of him.

“No,” he says. “You’ll catch a cold.”

“I don’t care,” you’re petulant, you know, frustration bubbling up in every cell of your body. “If I stay in here for one more day, I will tear myself into pieces.”

“You’re being over-dramatic.”

“Kai—”

“Don’t call me that.” His rebuttal is sharp. “You know I’m doing this for your own good.”

Your face twists into something ugly. Overhaul hates it when you do that; hates the way your brow wrinkles, your mouth moves, your normally lovely face (one of very few he can bear to look at unmasked and not feel as though he is going to get sick from merely breathing the same air of you) marred.

“You’re not,” you hiss at him. “You’re doing this because you’re fucked up! Because you’ve got some weird fucking ideas about what’s clean and what’s unclean, because you’re on a power trip, because you don’t care about other people--” Your voice is pitching and modulating, all of the things that you usually try and keep balled up inside of you spilling out that the floodgates of how unhappy you are is open.

You’re breathing heavy as Overhaul, clearly irked by what you’re saying, tugs at the wrist of one of his surgical gloves. If he’s going to kill you, good – at least it will be better than this, you think, your breath coming in short sharp pants after the outburst.

He lets go. His hands fall to his sides. His golden gaze on you is very level.

“You’re hysterical,” he tells you. An exasperated laugh falls from your mouth.

“Yeah?” You ask him. “Of course I am. Do you know the last time I breathed fresh air?”

“Seven months, two weeks, three days.” He says it without blinking. Your shoulders tense. Has it really been that long? “You haven’t been ill once in that time. The world out there is filthy.”

“It’s normal to get sick,” you try and tell him, but Overhaul is moving forward; past the doorway, and into your room. The door clicks shut behind him, the sound of a lock ominous. You don’t think you’ve ever been alone with Kai in your bedroom.

In the medical examination rooms, sure. In his office. In common areas, back when he was just the boss’ troubled protege and not the boss himself--

His eyebrows twitch in disgust as he notices the dust on your bookshelves. You’d stopped letting any of the cleaners in here a month ago; you’d refused to clean in the mean time, taking whatever small victory against your captor that you could.

“You’ll give yourself respiratory issues,” he says.

“Good,” your voice is cold, but you realise you’ve backed away from him. For all of your attempts to stand up to him, you’re terrified. Everyone knows what he can do. “Better dead than here--”

Gloved fingers around your wrist, so tight you can practically feel them bruising.

“You don’t mean that,” he says. His voice has gotten softer, cajoling. You’re trembling in his grip. “I told you. You’re hysterical.”

“I know exactly what I’m saying,” you say, but your words feel like you’re spitting them out around a mouthful of gravel. “I—I’m calm--”

Your knees knock against your bed, but Overhaul is still clinging to you; still too close. Your heart is beating so fast that you can hear it pounding in your ears.

“You’re not. You’re hysterical.” He repeats it, calmly. The hand not on your wrist reaches up and cups your face, a gloved thumb stroking across your cheek as if you’re the most delicate thing he’s ever touched. The scent of the latex is overwhelming. “But that’s alright. It’s not your fault.” He clicks his tongue behind the mask. “It’s mine. All of this checking for the physical sickness, and I didn’t think about checking your head.”

You fall onto the bed as his knees knock against yours, your back hitting the wall. It’s just a plain, single bed; rumpled sheets, because you’d fought against any attempt for someone to come in and collect your laundry, too. Overhaul looks silly in your room, you think dimly; like a huge black crow in the nest of a small, frightened wren.

“If you fight,” he tells you, “I’ll disassemble you. I’d rather not. I don’t want to taint you by using my quirk. But . . .” He’s sinking to his knees in front of you, those same methodical hands pushing up the skirt of your dress. “If I did, I’d get a blank mind to work with. I won’t hesitate. But I’d still rather simply fix you without having to break you into pieces first.”

You know him too well to think that he’s bluffing.

After all of the vitriol you’ve spat at him, he’s unwilling to kill you. Would it be worse, to be mindless and brainless under Kai’s quirk? You’ve heard some of his failed experiments before; babbling, drooling, broken things. He’s killed them sometimes just to put them out of their misery.

What if he did that, and your mind remained perfectly capable – just utterly unable to communicate with your body? A prisoner in your own skin. Worse than even now. You swallow back the lump of fear.

“H-how are you going to do that?” You ask him.

You start at how cold the gloved fingers are on your bare thighs, as Overhaul pushes them apart. Cold fear prickles down your spine. You’re too scared to fight back, but everything he’s doing is making you want to run.

“Did you know,” Overhaul says, those same hands sliding higher, to tug at the waistband of your underwear. “In the past, there were rumours that doctors would cure hysteria by genital massage and stimulation?”

His words are very clinical, but there’s a thickness to his voice behind the mask that fills you with revulsion.

“It might be nonsense, of course,” he says. Your underwear is being tugged down, pulled around your thighs, your knees, your ankle. “They theorised that the best cure was regular intercourse, male semen, pregnancy and childbirth--”

“Kai—” Your voice is a soft whine, fear-filled. This time, he doesn’t snap at you for calling him by the name he’s left behind. He simply says;

“Spread your legs.”

You don’t want to. But you want to risk what he’s threatening you with even less, so you tearfully open them as wide as you can go. He shifts forward, and the tip of the beaked mask digs into your inner thigh as he studies you like you’re nothing more than a diagram, not a living, breathing person--

“Next time I’ll have lubricant ready,” he says, under his breath, and your heart seizes up at the implication that whatever he’s going to do to you, there’ll be a next time.

You start at the sensation of gloved fingers gently parting the lips of your sex, Overhaul’s golden eyes drinking in the sight of you spread open and bare. You’re shaking, but for some reason the way he’s looking at you – the utter concentration in his eyes – makes a curl of heat flare deep inside of you.

“Don’t,” you breathe, trying not to squirm. “Please--”

“I don’t want to have to,” he says. His tone remains calm, unbothered. “I’m doing it for your own good, you know that. Just helping you along.” One finger slides through the slit; the sensation of the gloves against your most intimate, heated parts makes the muscles in your thighs clench. It’s . . . not exactly unpleasant, but neither it is pleasant. “Do you think I’m getting any pleasure out of this?”

He doesn’t like getting his hands dirty. You know this; everyone knows this. If this particular thought was so unpleasant to him, you don’t doubt he’d have found somebody else to do it (the thought of one of the other members of the Shie Hassaikai doing this to you fills you with even more revulsion than the idea of Overhaul himself). But you can’t say that out loud. Not after what he’s threatened. So you press your lips together and shake your head, gasp dying in your throat as one of Overhaul’s latex-covered fingers prods gently around your opening.

“You’re getting wet,” he tells you, as if you can’t feel the shameful slick beginning to leak from you. “That will make this easier. Good.”

You hate that the praise makes another jolt of arousal go through you. You don’t want to like the feeling of his gloves, rubbing at your heated cunt; the sensation of a fingertip circling around your entrance, brushing the bud of your clit and making you want to clamp your thighs around his hand.

He sinks the tip of one finger inside of you and you jerk, your hips out of your control as you try and sink away from the intrusion. Overhaul clicks his tongue again in annoyance at you. The hand holding the lips of your cunt open moves, to land on your hip and pin you between the bed and the wall so you can’t squirm again.

“I’ll sedate you next time, if I have to,” he says. “I’m not getting anything out of this. I’d prefer not to have to do it at all--”

He’s lying. You know he is. But you can’t call him out for it, so you press your trembling lips together and try to stop tears spilling out from your lash line as the finger inside of you sinks further and further inside, past his first knuckle, right down to the base.

He crooks it inside of you and your hands curl into the bedsheets, nails digging into your palms through cotton. His touch is curious, exploratory; has he ever actually done this to anybody before? He slides over a rough patch inside of you with the latex-tipped finger and a moan escapes your mouth against your will, your head falling back against the wall. Narrowed golden eyes look up at you as he repeats the motion; taking in the gloss of your lips, the widening of your eyes, the way your shoulders are shaking up and down.

You can feel yourself pumping more slick out; helping the glide of his finger inside of you, as he begins to carefully thrust it in and out of you. His touch is made all the more impersonal by the mask obscuring everything but his eyes and eyebrows; you can’t even hear him breathing.

Your cunt is fluttering around him, pleasure swarming you in breathless waves as he withdraws his finger entirely. He lifts the glove to his eyeline, looking only vaguely interested in how the white latex glimmers with your arousal.

“I’m going to use two now,” he tells you – and that is all the warning you get before two fingers beside one another are opening you up, scissoring your tight channel apart with an ache that you feel up to your hips. You bite back the whimper, but you’re unable to stop the choked breaths that are falling from you as he fucks you with them in steady, constant thrusts.

A covered thumb brushes your clit; swollen, now. Sensitive. Standing to attention. Your hips attempt to jerk in his hold once more, a strangled noise that’s neither pleasured nor pain falling from your throat. You’ve touched yourself, of course you have – even recently, just to try and assuage some of the boredom that fills your exactly-the-same days – but Overhaul’s fingers and thumbs and touch on you are so entirely different from that.

He continues his assault over your clit, those same eyes watching you with that same detached, clinical disposition that he’s had most of the time. There’s a cast to them that suggests there’s something more, but whatever emotion – if, indeed, he’s still capable of that – he’s feeling about having you at his mercy in this way has been pushed to the back of his mind as his thumb rolls and pinches at the bud.

Your body goes all-over heat, Overhaul’s fingers still pumping in and out of you, the slick noises of your shaming wetness echoing around the prison of the four walls you’ve spent seven months in. You’re teetering on the edge of something, hot and needy and wanting – and as Overhaul’s thumb sweeps over your poor aching clit again, you tilt your hips forward for as much stimulation as you can--

And he pulls his fingers out of you.

The heat fades into nothingness as you let out a noise of disappointment. Overhaul’s head tilts to one side, considering.

“What do you want?” He asks you. “Say it.”

No. You don’t ‘want’. He’s wrong. You keep your mouth pressed tight now that the damning noise has fallen out of it; you have managed to not let the tears trembling in your eyes spill forth. Your gaze meets his, defiant and tired and afraid all at once.

“Alright,” he sighs. “If you’re going to carry on being difficult.”

He does it again; his fingers plunging into you, scissoring you apart, rubbing against your folds with a practised agility now that he’s done it for the first time. He has always been a fast learner; always been observant. His thumb is back on your clit with ceaseless assault, and all over again you feel heat begin to build up; tension that crawls into every crevice of your being and worms its way deep inside you despite how badly you don’t want this.

The hand holding your hip loosens somewhat, allowing you to messily thrust your hips into Overhaul’s stimulation. You’re torn; you shouldn’t want to hump against the gloved fingers stimulating you, you should be wriggling and squirming away. But it feels so good; even with the skin-tight covering of rubbery latex, Overhaul’s fingers seem to find every one of your weak points and exploit them.

There it is again, building up on you; a ball of tension in your stomach being gradually wound tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment. Your hips flex against his hand, your fingers clenching and unclenching on the bedsheet--

He denies you the peak of your orgasm for the second time.

And a third.

And a fourth.

“Kai--!” You’re too far gone to even think, after the pleasure has been pulled from you so cruelly, over and over again. The tears spill over your cheeks., rolling down in fat, shaming droplets. Overhaul’s eyes narrow.

“No,” he says, vehement – more emotion in his voice than you’ve heard all day. “You know what to call me.”

You know what he wants you to call him. You know that he wants to leave his old name behind, start again, be someone who can drag the Shie Hassaikai out of the shadows and into light and power once again – and he thinks that the name will help. You gurgle out a sobbing, strangled noise;

“O-Overhaul, please--”

Three fingers are plunged as deep inside of you as they can go, crooked to rub against your sweet spot; as Overhaul murmurs, detached but soft;

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

They thrust into you, his thumb rubbing your clit with firm, certain strokes – and this time, as the orgasm rushes up on you all at once, he doesn’t stop. He fucks you with his fingers through it, his thumb not ceasing the circling. Pleasure washes over you, finally, in great waves and crests. You feel yourself gush on his fingers, soaking him in your wetness (his eyebrows furrow again, at how close your fluid comes to spilling over his bared wrist; but you are too relieved to think about anything other than finally getting what you need).

Your hips flex, gasps falling from your mouth with every thrust of them – and you expect Overhaul to pull his fingers out of you. To stop touching you. Perhaps to strip off his gloves and put on a new pair – you know he always carries spares – and sneer at you as he walks out of the room.

But Overhaul’s fingers do not move from inside of you. The fierce rhythm of his fucking and petting and rubbing does not stop, even as the final aftershocks of your orgasm clench loosely about him and his constant stimulation becomes more of an annoyance than anything else on heated, sensitive skin.

You squirm, trying to push your thighs together to get him to stop touching you – but the hand not fucking you forces your thighs to stay parted with the curl of fingers into supple flesh, leaving you helpless to do anything but let him carry on touching you. Carry on fucking you.

A short, sharp shock of an orgasm rips through you as he swirls his thumb over your clit just so, and you realise that you’re drooling down yourself as well as panting; helpless and sloppy, utterly unable to do anything except lie there and take it until Overhaul decides he’s had enough of touching you.

You come, what? Twice more? Thrice? Until the pulsing of your channel is painful, your skin feeling red raw, your whimpers into the ceiling dry and broken. Only then does he pull his fingers out of you with a lewd pop.

A gush of your fluid that his fingers were stoppering soaks your bedsheets, and you watch, dazed, as Overhaul stands up. He looks down at you for just one moment, that stretches unbearably long in the heat-and-sex soaked atmosphere of the room.

He strips his gloves off of his hands, eyebrows twitching in disgust as he leaves the crumpled latex on your bedside table. He’s sliding on another pair as he speaks;

“Feel better?”

No. No, you don’t. You feel worse. You feel disgusted and violated and aching, your body over-stimulated and exhausted, sweat and drool and bodily fluids clinging to your skin. But if you tell Overhaul that--

“Yes,” you say, voice very soft and small and weak. You cannot see his mouth, but you see the way his eyes flash happily, the overall sensation of him smiling.

Why does Overhaul’s smile make you so scared, when Kai’s smile used to just make you feel warm?

“We’ll need to do it a few more times,” he tells you, as your blood runs to ice in your veins. “Such maladies aren’t cured in a day, after all. But . . .” He turns, rearranging himself carefully, his mask readjusted. You can’t see him as he speaks the next words. “I’d like to try some of the other suggested remedies, too.”

You think of his earlier words.

‘They theorised that the best cure was regular intercourse, male semen, pregnancy and childbirth.’

You’re never going to escape, are you? You’re going to be trapped in this compound until the day you die, and Overhaul is going to think that he’s keeping you safe--

“Take a shower,” he says to you, as he opens the door. It is not a suggestion. “And stop not letting the maids come in here to clean. I’m not having you get sick.”

You think he might be the sick one.

#overhaul x reader #yandere overhaul #overhaul smut #overhaul x you #chisaki kai x reader #bnha smut #bnha x reader #dark content for ts #5555 event fic #not sfw text #writing #afab reader #fem pronouns #misogyny for ts #bnha posting #medical kink for ts #non consent for ts #dub con for ts #non con for ts

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hintofelation99 · 3 years

Note

Sick day headcannons!!!!!!!

Hell yeah, I do have a post on this already (linked here) but sick day headcanons are some of my favs so let’s do some more! (Just btw there will be some repeats but that just means I rlly like that headcanon)

Dick

Dick: Oh no, god no!

Wally: What’s wrong?!

Dick: I’m dying!

Wally, suspicious: Okay…

Dick: Please Wally this is serious, I need help!

Wally, deciding to take Dick seriously: Okay, what’s wrong? What do you need?

Dick: Just a coffin. Made of maple- no oak! And roses, preferably white, oh or blue! With baby’s breath. And-

Wally: Dick, what’s wrong?!

Dick: I burnt the roof of my mouth.

Wally leaves.

A good rule of thumb for Dick is the more dramatic he is the less serious the situation. The less dramatic he is the more serious the situation.

He will go into work with a cold and complain the entire day.

If he has something serious that’s contagious he’ll call in sick but just say it’s a slight stomach bug.

If it’s not contagious he will act like everything is completely fine.

One time he did this after getting an injury on patrol and ended up passing out and spending that night and the next day in the ICU.

He has become a bit more responsible over the years, mainly bc he thinks it’s adorable how sweet and cuddly Damian gets.

His favorite sick day activity is eating junk food and watching rom coms under a fuzzy blanket .

Babs

Dick: Please go to bed!

Babs: I am, I am, just one more line of code.

Dick: You’ve said that for the last three hours!

Babs tries to relax when sick but she has trouble actually taking a step back to rest.

Most of the time she’ll take a nightquil then get distracted by something and ends up falling asleep in front of her screen.

Usually Cass or Steph will come over and take care of her.

Steph always makes the best comfort food. And usually Cass will tuck Babs into bed.

Babs loves dozing on the couch to the sound of Cass and Steph laughing in the kitchen as they make her soup.

If Cass and Steph can’t come over she loves talking to them over discord while eating take out. Usually she and Cass just listen to Steph babble or she watches on of them stream something.

She also usually ends up falling asleep.

Jason

Bruce: Are you sick?

Jason: I’m legally dead.

Bruce: That doesn’t-

Jason: So,legally, no. I am not sick.

Jason will forever and always argue that he can’t get sick since he already died.

When he was little he was rarely able to get extra rest when he was sick. Because when he was really little he wanted to go to school to avoid Willis. After Catherine died he was too busy just trying to survive to focus on being healthy.

But when Catherine was alive and Willis was away Jason would stay home from school, and if Catherine was sober she would read to him and sing lullabies. This only happened like twice but Jason cherishes those memories of Catherine.

As a kid if he was ever sent home for being sick he’d get in huge trouble with Willis.

After being adopted the first time he was sent home with a fever he begged Alfred not to tell Bruce and hid in his closet until he stopped crying being sad. Alfred sat by the closet door with soup, a grilled cheese, and tea, reading The Princess Bride aloud until Jason came out. It took two hours.

Jason’s favorite sick day activity is drinking tea and rereading The Princess Bride (with the movie playing quietly in the background) while wearing his Wonder Woman hoodie.

Cass

Steph: Cass why are you patrolling while sick?!

Cass shrugs.

Steph, with a sigh: You’re allowed to take a sick day, okay?

Cass looks unsure but nods.

Steph: C’mon, let’s get you a bath and fuzzy blankets.

Cass forgets that she’s not just a weapon/tool. She forgets that she’s allowed to rest when sick.

Because of this she will keep going no matter what and tends to view ‘taking a sick day’ as a failure.

Steph, Tim, and Babs have been working on this with her. She’s improved a lot now that Tim lost his spleen and gets sick easily.

Now usually Steph cooks for her while Babs lays with her.

Cass isn’t against taking medicine but she never feels like the situation is severe enough to require medication. So someone in the fam has to convince her to take her meds.

She becomes extremely cuddly when sick and will cling to anyone near her.

Her favorite sick day activity is watching old horror movies with Steph or Babs.

Steph

Steph: I’m fine.

Steph: I’m- I have a fever of 104, I should rest.

Stephs mom is a doctor, so she’s used to being told “it’s just a cold, you’re fine”.

Usually she keeps going until she can’t then sleeps for like three days.

But it’s less out of stubbornness and more out of habit. So if someone tells her to rest she’s immediately like “okay!” and takes the sick day.

Babs always calls or comes over to check on her every day that she’s sick.

Cass has been learning how to cook and loves making Steph food when she’s sick.

Tim used to come over but now he always calls.

Stephs favorite sick day activity is sleeping with an ice pack or heating pad, depending on the sickness, with a giant cup of ginger ale and Cass curled up beside her.

Tim

Jason: Tim, are you sick?

Tim, tiredly staring at case files: No I-

Tim is interrupted by a violent coughing fit.

Tim: Oh, I guess I am?

Growing up Tim loved getting sick because it meant the house keeper would come over and take care of him and he might even get a hug.

But she stopped coming over when Tim was ten, his parents thought he was old enough to handle being sick on his own.

Sick days in the manor were a shock to him because he was rarely alone, there was always one family member by his side.

Now that he’s immunocompromised he’s always surrounded by people, he pretends to get annoyed with it but really he loves how much they care.

Dick always sings Romani lullabies and runs his fingers through Tim’s hair. Jason, Duke, and Steph will cook for him. Damian stay by his side and bring him tea. Babs will play video games with him. And Cass does a bit of everything, at least everything other than sing to him.

The family also takes Tim getting sick very seriously so if they here one cough he’s immediately being interrogated and getting his temperature checked.

Tim’s favorite sick day activity is laying under a weighted blanket with a cup of tea and playing video games with Babs, Steph, Duke, and Cass.

Duke

Dick, knocking on Duke’s door: Hey bud, why are you still in bed? I thought we were training together?

Duke: Sorry, I forgot to cancel. I’m sick and don’t think I can handle training today.

Dick: You’re sick?!

Duke: Yeah, but don’t worry I’ve been disinfecting and cleaning so no one else should get sick.

Dick: I’m not worried about getting sick, I’m worried about you!

Duke: …oh, okay.

Growing up sick days were spent at home either resting alone or with one of his parents.

He had to do some fending for himself (like cleaning and making food when his parents weren’t home with him) but nothing extreme or unexpected. So, overall he had pretty normal sick days.

After he parents went missing he was so focused on getting them back and saving them that he never stopped to rest when sick.

Now as a member of the Wayne family his sick days are always spent with someone by his side, at least they are if he tells the family he’s sick.

He’s gotten in trouble several times for not telling Alfred/the family that’s he’s sick. Not because he puts Tim at risk, he like all the family is very cautious about that, but because everyone worries about him and wants to help take care of him.

After several lectures from Alfred he’s finally getting better about telling the family when he’s sick.

His favorite sick day activity is reading Jason’s copy of The Princess Bride while having a bowl of Alfred’s chicken noodle soup.

Damian

Jason: Are you sick?

Damian: N-

Damian sneezes like a kitten.

Damian: No.

Cass, smiling: Sick baby brother, cute sneeze.

Damian tries to be offended but ends up having a sneezing fit.

Steph: That’s so adorable!!

Damian has the most adorable sneezes. He literally sounds like a kitten and the entire family and hero community finds it adorable. Damian hates it.

He used to try and pretend he wasn’t sick and just work through it.

Then he sneezes in front of Harley and Ivy and they cooed over him for an hour.

Now he grumpily secluded himself in his room when sick.

Usually the family will check on him and find that Jon flew over and they’re cuddling on his bed watching cartoons.

When Damian’s sick he really craves spicy food. Like everything he eats he’ll add hot sauce or pepper to. His food is so spicy that only Cass can handle it, like it makes ghost peppers look like child’s play.

His favorite sick day activity is drinking masala chai under one of Tim’s fuzzy blankets while wearing Dick’s old hoodies and surrounding himself with various soft things he stole from his siblings. This is preferably done while eating spicy tomato or lentil soup and watching cartoons with Jon.

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giorno-plays-piano · 3 years

Text

Vicious

Part VII

Pairing: Steve x reader, Bucky x reader, Thor x reader, Loki x reader, Peter x reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, stalking, possessiveness, theft, mention of blackmail, all characters are adults.

Words: 1864.

Summary: Transferring to Stark Academy that has only allowed to take in female students last semester, you realize you are just one of three young women among hundreds of students. Your things are constantly being stolen, and soon you begin fearing for your safety.

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

________

You wanted to slap yourself. What the hell was wrong with you today? Why did you tell Peter that?!

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...” Completely baffled with you behavior, you were deeply ashamed, unable to look the guy in the eyes and wanting nothing but fall into the earth.

“Ah, I got it. It’s Steve, isn’t it?” All of a sudden, Peter let out an irritated sigh, rolling his eyes skywards and rubbing his neck. “Of course, who else would say such nonsense. Blackmail, really? Funny he didn’t call me a stalker or anything.”

“Listen, I didn’t mean it, I’m really-”

“It’s ok.” He closed the locker, slamming its door loudly and making you jump. “It’s not your fault. If I heard that from somebody, I’d be scared too.”

He spent a couple of seconds staring into the wall until he rubbed his neck again tiredly and huffed. It took him less than a minute to regain his composure, and you heard him murmuring, “What a freak.”

He didn't return to the corridor, heading to the sports hall for his PE class, instead moving to the bench in the locker room and motioning you to sit. Feeling terribly awkward, you hoped he wasn't going to do anything out of anger, even though he had every right to be upset at your stupid behavior.

"About what he said," Peter took a deep breath, "it's nothing like that. I don't dig up some nasty stuff in the web to blackmail people. I've never done it. The reason why Mr. I-am-better-than-you said that is because I've made him take me into his little bodyguard group when I heard him talking to Loki. You're nice, and I wanted to help. Of course, Steve started acting like I was some creep, so he refused, and I had to remind him that, technically, he had to report your issue to the administration, not play a hero. I said that if I go and tell the whole story to the dean, Steve's gonna be in trouble because he knew who thieves were and didn't report them."

It was a loud off your mind. Goodness. Rogers called this a blackmail? Really? Just because Peter pushed Steve into taking him into their group?

You were less and less sure Rogers was sane. You definitely had to be careful around him.

"I can't believe he called it a blackmail." You admitted quietly, and the guy sent you a tired smile. "Peter, I'm so, so sorry. It was so stupid of me."

"Nah, don't worry. I'd freak out too if I didn't know the whole story."

You knew your apologies weren't enough, but you hoped Peter didn't take it to heart - if you can take such an accusation easily, that is. Shit, shit, shit, why did you believe everything these guys were saying? You didn't even know them in the first place! Why on Earth did you go asking them their opinions on others if all of them were biased, and every guy could twist the truth the way he liked? You shouldn't have let their words affect you that much.

"Whatever. At least now you know what Rogers is like." Peter sent you a grim smile and got up, picking his bright yellow sackpack from the floor. "Shit, I gotta go if I don't wanna be late. Let's meet in a library later, alright?"

"O-of course." You hurriedly stood up and left the lockers room after him, turning to the library: your Lit class was cancelled, so you decided to go study right away. At this time, the library was usually full, and you felt safe there.

Your thoughts were all about the guys again even when you were staring at your laptop, trying to focus on Excel numbers. Why did you feel like the atmosphere between them was so dense? If they were at such terms with each other, why did they group together to help you? What, because all of them loved you so much? It was ridiculous. There was something else to it, and you didn't know. You had a feeling no one was going to tell you the truth until you figured it all out by yourself.

Weird. It was all so weird. Steve's plan, their behavior, the relationships between them, and your nagging feeling they all were hiding something. Was it them who were actually following you?

The thought scared you to the point you started shivering. Oh shit.

"Hi there," the guy appeared behind your back so suddenly you almost jumped, looking at him wide-eyed, "sorry, did I startle you?"

"H-hi Jake! No, it's ok, I was just... studying." Both of you were talking in hushed voices, knowing the librarian would kick you out immediately if she heard some noise. "How are you?"

"I'm great, how're you?" You could hear concern in his voice: he was one of Thor's friends you met yesterday, and although you spoke briefly, Thor definitely told him more about you. "You look a bit worried."

"Oh, it's Math, I didn't really understand the topic, and we're having an exam on Monday... guess I'll be studying the whole weekend." You gave him your best smile to reassure you were totally ok, and the guy relaxed a little, smiling at you, too.

"I'm sure you'll pass. Thor said you're very smart."

What, he said that to all of them? Was he simply boasting about his girlfriend to his friends or was there something more to it?

"You're too kind. Thank you."

His smile grew wider, and he landed on the next seat to yours, resting his hands on the table. Apparently, there was something he wanted to talk to you about, and you grew uneasy.

"Listen, about these incidents... Thor told us all about it, so if you see any freaks following you around, you can message any of us, and we'll come right away." Looking at his serious expression, his bushy brows furrowed, you hoped he eas being sincere with you: you had enough with people you could no longer trust. "And also... that kid, if he's giving you troubles or anything, just let me know, and I'll tell him to keep his hands to himself"

Oh, he was talking about Peter, wasn't he? He had probably seen that silly photo. Wow, you though, Peter was totally right about Instagram: it was the best news source in the academy.

Thanking him for his concern, you laughed a little, convincing him there was nothing serious except for the theft and promising to tell him if anything weird would be going on. While it should have made you feel safer, in fact, you only grew more frustrated with this situation. You wanted to forget about these freaks and just spend you day like any normal student would, but everywhere you went people were staring at you as if you had a horn; one boyfriend or the other was always close to protect you from some unknown danger, and although you believed they tried to help, you hated the feeling they were hiding something from you. Why did you have to be going through all this? Wasn't it really better to drop off school, spend a year working and then apply to a better place?

Thinking of the faces your parents would make once you returned home, you realized it wasn't. This school with all those creeps wasn't worse than home that never felt like a safe place you wanted to come back to. Besides, all money you saved up until now were only good for buying food and things like that: you'd never afford to rent a decent place unless you found a well-paid job. It meant staying with your parents, and it wouldn't be much better than here, just different. If you wanted to drop off, you had to find a good place to stay.

Well, you could at least try, right?

When Peter met you in the library, the two of you no longer talked about anything important, simply studying together to prepare for the exams next week. It didn't feel off: from time to time you met his gaze, and the both of you smiled. You were thankful he didn’t talk about Steve or other guys or that weirdo in the lockers room.

Once you returned home, you went straight to bed, completely exhausted. Luckily, you did much more than yesterday, so you could rest now, but then you thought of Thor kissing you and bit down the pillow, angry at yourself. Why did you keep thinking of him right now?

______________

When you woke up the next morning, you felt like something was off: your body ached, your throat hurt, and your headache was only making it worse. Dammit, you caught a cold, probably. And that’s when it was finally the day to meet Steve, the guy you thought was a mastermind behind all these manipulations that were making you sick to the core.

Anyway, it’s not like a mere cold would prevent you from doing everything you had planned. You left your bed and went to the bathroom, moving the dresser before again.

Honestly, it felt terrible. It was definitely because of that flimsy dress you wore to school yesterday when the weather was becoming chilly. Argh. Watching your puffy eyes and swollen nose, you sneezed. Today you had to apply way more makeup to look decently.

Steve showed up earlier than either Thor or Peter: you had to skip your breakfast, hoping to buy something cheap in the cafeteria.

“Good morning.” He said with his everyday polite expression that soon shifted into a concerned one. “Are you alright?”

What, was it that bad? You did your absolute best to apply enough makeup and do your hair. Did you still look so sick?

“Good morning. Yes, I’m ok, just feeling a little sleepy.” You yawned on purpose, covering your mouth with your hand, and Steve’s face softened.

“Did you study all night?”

“Yep, exams are driving me a little crazy.”

“I understand. I also stayed late last night.”

Of course, the student council president studying all days long to be number one student in the academy. If you didn’t know of his twisted nature, you’d think he was the most typical nerd.

You spent most of the time either in silence or talking about studies, the academy, and everything related to it. Steve acted like a gentleman and a scholar, albeit a little too demonstratively. Walking with you as if he were a king of the place, he constantly replied to greetings of others, waved to his acquaintances and smiled. You felt so off you wanted to find Loki and walk with him: unlike Steve, he was considered unpleasant by the prevailing majority of students.

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright?” America golden boy asked you for the last time, and you forced yourself to smile.

“Of course. Thanks for coming, see you later, Steve.”

As he finally left you in peace, you almost fell down into your chair, your fever only getting worse despite the fact you took some painkillers. It was going to be a long day.

_________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherub @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sourpatchspinster @biiskuitx @stupendouslovegardener @iheartsebandchris @lovelydarkdaydream @soleil-dor @illyrianprincess @vampirestrawberries @goodgodimaweirdperson @frontmanash @freya-heya @yandematic @mariatietacapitu @d3monslust @maybesandohnos @ibeatuptwinks @mangobangi @nectav @whatever-happened-to-the-ducks

#bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #thor x reader #dark thor #loki x reader #dark loki #peter parker x reader #dark peter parker #yandere

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swbumblebee · 3 years

Text

Qui-Gon Jinn cupped the precious mug of tea beneath his large hands, sitting alone at the table in the small temple flat he shared with his Padawan. He closed his eyes and breathed in the vapors whilst the rest of the temple sprang into action for the day ahead.

Not today for the Jinn/Kenobi pair. It had been a long night for the Jedi Master, listening helplessly to Obi-Wan sniffing, wheezing and coughing his way through the night in the room next to his own.

After narrowly avoiding a slipper to the face the third time he popped his head around the door (“For goodness sake Master I am FINE! Maybe I’m just allergic to fusspots?”) the Jedi Master made the executive decision that there would be no lessons this morning, testing the limits of his fine Force control by turning the alarm on his apprentice’s chrono off as he quickly exited the room and escaped the teenager’s ire.

Yes. A much-needed lie in and then a day in bed (remaining exactly where Qui-Gon could keep an eye on him) with pain killers and cough medicine would do his ill Padawan a world of good.

He sat back, rather pleased with his plan, when a spark of panic ignited his training bond with Obi-Wan, and a few thuds later saw the boy springing out of his room, tunics all over the place, hair askew and a frantic look on his face.

Ah.

He hadn’t factored in his Padawan’s dedication to his studies.

“Master! Master what time is it? I’m so late!” the young man cried, grabbing random objects and stuffing them into his bag in a frenzy.

Qui-Gon stood up slowly.

“Obi-Wan I’ve spoken to your tutors-“

His panicked student heard nothing. He was frantically searching for something; lifting cushions off the sofa, shifting piles of flimsi and kicking aside discarded robes.

“Master have you seen my history pad? I had it – I had it last night I’m sure!” his apprentice was a one boy hurricane as he rushed around their flat, ducking under the table in his quest.

Qui-Gon rolled his eyes towards the heavens.

“Obi-Wan you’re not going-“

“Yes!” so focused on his victory from under their table, the teenager continued to tune him out. “Sorry Master there’s a guest speaker – I just need to check I’ve done-“

Qui-Gon sighed fondly. His boy was such a nerd.

It was time to bring out the big guns.

“Padawan!” he barked sharply, fully aware he was using his ‘Master’ voice, usually reserved for dangerous missions.

Thunk.

“Ow!”

…and immediately regretted it when his startled apprentice hit his head on the table above his crouched position.

Oh Force

He rushed towards the boy, who was slowly making his way out from under the table rubbing his head with a grimace.

“Owwww! Bloody ahhhh…Master! What was that for?” he asked, wounded.

Big watery blue eyes turned on him and Qui-Gon thought he might just be the worst being in the Galaxy.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry!” he jabbered, pulling the skinny boy in to look at his head, where already a lump was forming.

Qui-Gon was indeed, the worst being in the Galaxy.

Obi-Wan sighed, sniffing and wiping at his red nose that sharply contrasted against his pale pallor, shrugging out of his Masters grip.

“Master, what’s going on? Did you turn off my alarm?” he asked, an unimpressed expression on his young face that wouldn’t have looked out of place on the Jedi high council.

Qui-Gon refused to be cowed.

But it was a near thing.

He opened his mouth to respond when the stern face in front of him took on a decidedly more enthusiastic expression.

“Are we going on a mission!?” Obi-Wan asked excitedly, childish glee lighting up his eyes. Before the sickly boy immediately succumbed to a chest-rattling coughing fit that had him almost bent double.

Going on a – ? Qui-Gon shook his head despairingly as he rubbed Obi-Wan’s back in what he hoped was a soothing manner.

“The only place you’re going is back to bed” he corrected sternly.

“What?”

Unbelievably, the intelligent young Jedi looked at him confused. And then sneezed.

“Yes” Qui-Gon confirmed slowly as he nodded. “You, my young Padawan, have a cold.”

Predictably, he received a scowl in return.

“Master, honestly I’m fine – I promise – I have to go to lessons – Maaaaster” Obi-Wan attempted to wriggle away from the hand that was currently resting on his forehead.

Qui-Gon’s lips thinned in disapproval. The boy was way too hot, and clammy to the touch.

“No, I’m afraid not.” he declared.

“But there’s –“

“I know, I know, a guest speaker” Qui-Gon finished for him, putting an arm to his students’ skinny shoulders and turning him gently towards his room.

“Pleeease Master” the quiet, uncharacteristically whining tone of his apprentice caught him off guard, and his heart clenched just a little.

“I’m sorry Padawan, but your health must come first.”

He felt a little guilty when the young man’s shoulders slumped a little and Obi-Wan sniffed rather pathetically before, ever obedient, he gave in and allowed himself to be guided back towards his own bedroom.,

Qui-Gon pressed his advantage in his apprentice’s silence.

“Now, please go and get in the shower, and change into some fresh sleep clothes while I make your bed.” He instructed, in a patient tone he usually reserved for lessons.

All he got was a grunt in return, blue eyes dimming slightly as Obi-Wan’s feet began to drag.

Qui-Gon had to stop himself from giving him a rather smothering bear hug. That would go down about as well as Yoda’s stew.

They were nearly at the threshold, so close to victory, when Obi-Wan stopped suddenly.

“I should tell my tutors” he said, looking up at Qui-Gon worriedly.

“I spoke with the Master Scholars office this morning” he reassured his anxious student.

Obi-Wan continued to nibble his lower lip, remaining in place despite his Master’s urging expression.

“…I should speak to them” he mumbled unsurely “apologize”

Qui-Gon looked at him sharply.

“You will do no such thing” he scolded, his tone perhaps more than he intended, but it was a consistent bad habit of his Padawan, and a major bug bear of his own, that the child seemed to feel the need apologise to the Universe for his existence.

He sighed at the startled look on his boys face.

“Obi-Wan, you are perfectly entitled to be ill, every being in the Galaxy gets ill and the sensible thing to do is to take a sick day.” He said smartly, appealing to his logical student’s intelligence.

Obi-Wan continued to worry at his lip, his head cocking in a way Qui-Gon recognized as him carefully considering a problem.

“So…I’ll just… go to bed?” he clarified awkwardly.

Qui-Gon smiled.

“Yes indeed, you’ll get in the shower and then go to bed. Where you may read, fiction, for thirty minutes whilst you have breakfast and some medicine, and then you’re going back to sleep.” He informed his charge.

There was a mutinous expression present for about a fraction of a second, before his dutiful apprentice was back.

“Yes Master” came the rather sulky acknowledgement, and Qui-Gon turned away and smiled.

---

A few short minutes later the Master found himself perched on the end of Obi-Wan’s bed, attempting to wrap another blanket around his pouting tooka of a Padawan.

He treasured these moments, he realized, as Qui-Gon watched the young man (little more than a child really) gently falling asleep (with just a little help from the Force). They were few and far between as the days rolled on, and he had a nasty feeling he’d have a Jedi Knight on his hands before he knew it.

Obi-Wan would be magnificent, he mused slightly melancholily as he reached out to tuck a stray ankle back under the covers.

Live in the moment he reminded himself.

There would doubtless still be many opportunities ahead to put his reckless, trouble magnet bull-headed boy to bed, and many arguments to come.

It was a bizarrely comforting thought.

#Obi-Wan Kenobi #qui-gon jinn #obi-wan fanfic #snippet of nothing #fluffy as balls #oh god it's so sappy #soft qui-gon #dad!Qui-Gon #padawan kenobi

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