#BLOWS UP MY SINUSES WITH MY MIND

[vind3miat0r]

manifesting Gavin sick comfort

[icarryitin]

Episode 24: Trade Deal

spencer reid/gn!reader

i started this bc i was ill and feeling sorry for myself and it turned into a very not to me not if it’s you kind of vibe, mostly bc i frankensteined a couple of my favourite translations of That Scene so they could have their own version🥰🥰

series masterlist

word count: 1.5k // warnings: reader has a cold and all the grossness that comes with it, spencer is so Cute™️ it causes me physical pain

summary: In which Spencer Reid, known germaphobe, pretends he doesn’t know exactly how many pathogens have made their home in your sinuses.

It starts with a scratchy throat on a Tuesday morning.

You don’t think much of it, blame it on seasonal allergies, knock back a multivitamin - you’re not about to be bested by a cough of all things. That is, until it gets to Friday afternoon. You’re trying, you really are. Your immune system has other plans.

“You stay right there, Patient Zero.”

Rossi’s comment would be funny if you didn’t think that laughing might trigger a coughing fit that could very well be the end of you, right there in the doorway of Hotch’s office. That’d be one hell of an epitaph - too stubborn to take a sick day, choked to death in boss’s office. Hotch, at least, already seems to know why you’re hovering.

“I’m-“

“Going home, I hope.” He interrupts you with all the fondness of a concerned father. You don’t have the energy to argue, or to hold up an unaffected front. The men standing by the window soften a little as they watch you visibly deflate. Dave promises to send you his Nonna’s minestrone recipe, there’s nothing it can’t cure; right now, though, you’re only thinking about your bed.

The well wishes follow you through the bullpen, old wives tales and family cures that have never failed. JJ tells you to sweeten your tea with honey, Derek swears that a hot water bottle on your back will work magic. Even Emily pipes up from behind her germ shield, the folder held across her face so you can only see her eyes, and tells you to take a hot shower first thing in the morning - the steam will clear you out for the day. There’s a chorus of agreement, or disagreement you’re not sure. It’s a struggle to hear much over the cotton wool in your ears.

“We’ll see, with any luck I’ll die in my sleep. Love you!” You sniffle as you back out of the office, feeling all kinds of sorry for yourself, and determined to make it as far as you can without touching anything. Lest you actually start the next plague.

Spencer watches you go, shuffling backwards out of the office and turning towards the elevators. He’d elected not to add his own suggestions to the plethora of options supplied by the rest of the team. Unable to focus on much beyond just how tired you look. You’ve been fighting this thing all week, he’d passed over his own supply of hand sanitiser only that morning when you ran out. Ultimately, you put up a good fight, but there’s no cure for a virus. It just has to run its course. Just like his own feelings.

Okay, maybe he shouldn’t be comparing a virus to whatever it is he feels for you. Has felt, will feel - if there’s an end to this tunnel, he can’t see it yet.

“What about you, Spence?”

JJ’s voice pulls him from his thoughts before he can start spiralling down that particular hole. It takes him a moment to recall what they’d been chattering about before your long overdue exit - drinks, right. Yeah, that’s not happening.

“I’m busy, actually.” He shrugs, content to miss out on one night in favour of the plan currently coming to fruition in his mind. They won’t miss him too much.

“Busy? You weren’t busy when we talked about it last week.” Emily makes no effort to conceal her surprise. To be fair to them, it’s not like him to blow them off. There’s just something that’s come up, something decidedly you shaped, that’s far more important.

“Yeah, I forgot. Sorry.”

Spencer doesn’t miss the look that JJ and Emily share, he doesn’t miss the eyebrow that Derek raises in his direction. He simply chooses to ignore them.

At least the walk to your apartment is short, there’s still heat leeching from the plastic bag around Spencer’s wrist as he fumbles with his keys. You’d given him a bright pink key cap, so he’d know which one was yours, as if he wouldn’t know anyway. Eidetic or not, that’s one he would have committed to memory. The excuse had been because he was helping you out whilst you were down an arm, takedown gone wrong, you’d dislocated your shoulder. And then you’d insisted he keep it, because someone should have your spare key, and he’s the least likely of the lot of you to lose it.

He thinks you might be asleep at first, open plan living area lit only by a salt lamp and a set of fairy lights draped over your kitchen window, it’s cosy. And then you appear in the bedroom doorway, wrapped in a jewel toned blanket. The low light is forgiving, but Spencer would be able to spot the bags under your eyes from a mile away. Without his glasses.

“I brought noodles.” He says as he turns back to set the steaming bag on your kitchen counter.

“I’m so gross right now.” As if to demonstrate your point, another cough racks your body. You just about manage to catch it under the swathes of blanket clutched in your fingers, but at least he can’t claim you’re not truly disgusting in this moment.

“I don’t mind.”

You’re so set on denying him entry that you don’t even really register what he said - Spencer Reid doesn’t mind that you’re ill. He doesn’t mind. A younger, healthier version of you would swoon. You might anyway, although that’s probably the vertigo talking.

“You’ll get sick.” Your rebuttal is weak, resolve crumbling. Warm noodles do sound pretty good right now.

“Will you let me help you, please?” It’s the firmest he’s ever been with you. No room for argument, doctor’s orders. So you have to relent. Not that you have much of a choice, he’s already pottering about in your kitchen in search of bowls. As if he doesn’t remember where they are.

“Did you get me a number three?” Your voice is brighter than he’s heard it all week.

“With extra toppings, of course.”

And those extra toppings go down a treat, of course they do.

Spencer watches you carefully as you eat - usually he’d be a little more subtle about it, but there’s not a lot that could pull your attention away from the bowl in your hands. You’re cross legged on the couch, blanket bunched around your middle, happy as a clam. Something his mother would say. He wonders what else she might say, what she might think about the abandonment of his germaphobia. Convenient, probably. Diana would say it with a raised eyebrow and a sly smile, the one that’s just for him. She has always liked you.

He promises he’ll be back tomorrow, once dishes are washed and leftovers are tucked neatly in your fridge, to make sure you get that hot shower Emily mentioned. The steam will definitely help, he’s read about it. Arguing with him would be pointless. You don’t have the energy, he’d only show up anyway, and it’s kind of nice to feel looked after. Spencer’s never failed to make you feel like that. You’re far too delirious to start thinking about that, not while he’s still standing in front of you at least. So you let him tuck you into bed, let him leave a glass of water on the table, let him dote. Pretending is a comfort when you feel as awful as you do. You’re already drifting off before he’s even ready to leave, content enough in your bed with the sound of him in the other room. Just, tinkering.

The sound of your front door opening rouses you the next morning, just about. Just enough to raise your head from your pillow and witness the sorry sight in your bedroom doorway.

Spencer’s trying - key word, trying - to suppress his sniffles, but the red rimmed eyes and tissue clutched in his fist give him away. It’s impossible to keep the sad little smile off of your face.

“Oh no.” You reach out a tired arm to pat the space beside you. There’s enough room for the two of you in amongst the blankets, and Spencer’s so far gone that he doesn’t even argue. His shoes and bag find a home at the foot of your bed as he lets himself collapse into the nest you’ve built. Tension leeches out of his body the moment he hits the mattress.

You have to lean across him to get your phone, right arm outstretched over his back - you can feel the heat rising off of him through his sweater and yours. Fever, that’s day two. Which means he spent yesterday evening taking care of you whilst he began to feel worse and worse. Softie.

“Egg or no egg?”

There’s an affirmative grunt from where his face is buried in your blankets. Egg it is, then. You dial the number mostly from memory, elbow still resting on his shoulder blade when you put the phone to your ear. You feel a little better than you did, but dragging yourself to the front door is still probably all you’ll be capable of today. At least you won’t be suffering alone. The line rings for a moment, then clicks, and a grainy hello sounds from the other side.

“Hi, can I place a breakfast order for delivery, please?”

i’m stuck on which chapter to work on next, do we want angst or yearning or fun flirty activities????🧡

[reds-writings]

OH MY GAWD YOU ARE SO FREAKIN TALENTED!

Seriously, every time you post, I immediately get this happy tingle inside. I think it’s basically a pavlov dog kind of instinct by now.

Everything you write feels so real. You take time with the details, with characterisation, you even write out the accents. It’s got this very meticulous quality to it, which is really rare and enthralling.

If you are feeling inspired by this prompt from the miscellaneous list, I would be thrilled to see what you can come up with

“The residual fear and anxiety after waking from a nightmare.”

thank you!! this is such a high compliment i am positively giddy. for this one i kinda did something different. reader gets comforted for once as opposed to rust! this drabble includes a bit of a sneak peek of what she went through after he left for alaska. fair to say it's a little heavy! hope you enjoy!

Nightmares visited you sparingly with the amount of attended therapy and self-care efforts you had made towards yourself over the past decade. It unfortunately hadn’t meant that they’d ever release your tired mind for good. Always involving the same scenario. July of 03. The Bayou. Those girls. Deafening gunfire riddling anything it could find. The searing pain of Lenny Broussard’s vengeful knife. You as the tragically doomed target. That stench of death burning your nostrils something sinister, stomach made to twist unforgivably. One way or another, you were forced to relive it on repeat in the inescapable realm of sleep. 

You’d had one tonight. It had maybe been a month or two since the last one but it shook you all the same. Ironically, the longer in between these nightmares the harder the come down was when they made their attack once again. Sweat stuck to you like some sickly second skin and your hands couldn’t cease their trembling no matter how hard you balled your fists. Defenses always remained high after these fits, like you’d somehow be unlucky enough to find yourself sent back in time to suffer the consequences of that failed raid in one torturously hellish loop. 

It had been raining hard outside for a while now. Using the violent downpour as white noise to helplessly quiet your unsteady mind, you had been curled in on yourself on the couch for God only knows how long now. The buzz of adrenaline had numbed your skin, keeping you locked in place like some petrified statue. The silent tears that once ran blood hot now stained your swollen face in a dry track as you fought off any lingering tremors. 

The sound of shuffling footsteps on hardwood had your aching muscles tightening up again and sinuses stinging with the threat of incoming saltwater. A hesitant hand came to rest on your hair, freezing in place at your sudden jolt at the contact. But you knew that touch. That veil of cigarette smoke and cologne that was so uniquely Rust. He hadn’t ever seen you like this before. Ever. The both of you hadn’t been able to really talk about all that he missed from Alaska. The window of opportunity had no room to present itself in the midst of you giving your all to making sure he healed successfully over the past several weeks.

His careful fingers brushed the curtain of hair obscuring your troubled face to tuck what they could behind your neck. He’d gotten a glimpse of some of the old scars from the gruesome attack here and there but you were careful to keep most out of view for his fragile sake. The one taking up most of the left side of your face often rendered him painfully remorseful whenever he really focused on it. An unmerciful marker to remind you both of the near-fatal blow that almost robbed you of life once and for all. His throat would always find itself tightening at the thought of having been so casually unaware of what horrors had occurred due to his ill-fated cowardice. From what he gathered, you had gone at it all alone minus the initial help from your sister living in New Orleans. Marty hadn’t offered much on the story. Whether it was because he didn’t feel like it was his place to share or he wasn’t around for much of it at the time, Rust hadn’t the nerve to ask. 

When you made no further shuddering movements, he gently maneuvered your trembling form into the haven of his lap. His other hand came to guide your head to his erratically beating heart. Discovering you so visibly small and frightened did plenty to set him off. You always cared for everyone else more than you ever would for yourself. It was a rare occurrence for him to be the one cradling you as opposed to any other scenario where it always seemed to be the other way around. 

“It’s okay, baby.” He kept his tone hushed as he gently rocked you back and forth. The tenderness of the notion had your body wracking in reviving sobs. All he could do was continue to sway and mumble words of comfort so that he may just ease your mind by a fraction. 

“We’re safe. You gotta breathe for me, baby. Breathe. Just like that.” Rust exaggerated inhaling and exhaling for you to follow. Soft kisses dotted your hairline as your hands unfurled to wrap around his sturdy midsection. If you had half the mind, you’d be embarrassed to find yourself balled up like some baby in your lover’s arms. You couldn’t find it in you to care one bit. No one could do what he was currently doing for you now in all the time you had been alone. 

Once your breaths had started to calm down again he moved your head so that he could see you more clearly despite still being shrouded in the dark. You were sure you were a grisly sight. Snotty, sniffly, puffy, and all. He didn’t give a shit about any of it. His heart burned all the brighter at the vulnerability you entrusted him with enough to display. The calloused pad of his thumb drew itself feather-light over your scar, making your eyes flutter shut. Not much about you had changed, not much could with an eternal beauty like yours, he decided. 

He brought himself down to kiss your marred cheek, then reverently once more to your forehead, before tugging you closer into his body as if to act as a shield against the world around you. 

“I’m sorry.” It seemed to be the only thing he could say lately. You just shook your head and nuzzled in as much as you were physically able, sticking to him like makeshift velcro. You just wanted to feel less at a distance from everything with him by your side. 

Rust was your tether and he’d be damned to ever let you go again. 

[gelatinouscubed]

Overkill

I'm a long time lurker, first time (snz) writer. I wanted to try my hand at writing something like this, and decided to pull out a couple ocs I've had for a bit. Kinda experimental, dipping my toes in the world of writing for this kink so any feedback is appreciated!

Only about 1k words, background is that Jay and Elliot are both students at the same college and roommates and that's pretty much it! Their relationship is not romantic yet, unsure of if it will be but idk, I'll see how it goes.

Cw: contagion mention, fever

God, Jay wishes his professor would just shut up about Greek mythology already. 

In his foggy mind, those stupid fucking stories from this stupid fucking lecture are the only things that seem to stick. Icarus with his wax wings, flying too close to the sun. He feels a sort of kinship to that doomed boy, his hubris, his downfall. If Jay is Icarus, Elliot is his Daedelus. Setting a bottle of Dayquil on the counter seemed like such a nice gesture at the time, too, considering his roommate was the patient zero to this nightmare plague. 

Jay usually has such good impulse control.

With a cold from hell, too much medicine sounded like an oxymoron. Anything would have to be a step up from drowning in his own mucus. 

A shiver shoots up his spine, but he barely shifts from his slumped position on the desk in the back of this classroom. With the edge of his sweater over his hand, pressed against his sluggishly leaking nose, he sniffles. He feels and hears a pitiful squeak of pressure stab through his sinuses, ears crackling loudly as he swallows. 

He's not sure if it's better or worse, being too dazed to fully comprehend just how disgusting he must be right now. Through the thick haze in his mind, he can vaguely feel the stinging of his rubbed raw and chapped nose, abused by the rough wool of his shirt sleeve. In any other case, he'd be too self-conscious to do this openly, too afraid to be seen as gross by his peers.

Now, as his head periodically bops back up after slowly drifting down, exhausted eyes trying their best not to close, he can't quite muster up the energy to care. 

“hhHIT’sschUE!” 

He wrenches forward into his elbow, sneezing for what feels like the hundredth time since he's woken up. A couple hoarse, grating coughs follow after, and if he weren't in public he would've allowed himself to groan in misery. 

People are probably staring at him, he knows. It's cold and flu season, and he's basically Typhoid Mary right now. 

Let them. If the teacher hadn't made this lecture mandatory attendance, he wouldn't have shown up at all. Through red rimmed, watery eyes, he glares at her with as much rage as he can muster. He hopes someone coughs on her doorknob. 

One of his knuckles paws at the side of his nose weakly, letting out a small sigh of annoyance at the inevitable. His breath hitches. 

“HhHhuhhggh’shkew!! HtxcHH-shEWW!” Hands cupped around his face, his fingertips rest against overheated cheeks brush against the bottom of his teary eyes. God this sucks.

Something taps his shoulder, breaking him out of his dazed self-pity. His head lazily swivels around, vision swimming sickeningly for a short moment. 

A figure comes into focus- Jenn, one of Elliots's friends, he vaguely notes- holding something out to him wordlessly. Tired eyes dart down, and out of pure relief, he almost feels himself sober up a bit. 

It's a pack of tissues. He could cry. He might cry. 

He accepts them readily. 

“Thangks.” He rasps, at least attempting to blow his nose. It barely budges, but it's still nice to clean his upper lip with something besides his clothes. 

“Of course man. You um… you alright?” Jenn questions, what little attention she'd been paying to the lecture replaced with concern. 

Jay sighs, keeping the tissue wadded in his hand as his shoulders slump.

“Fidne.” He grumbles, turning to cough weakly into the tissue. 

“Elliot finally gave you his cold?”

Jay scoffs. 

“How'd you figure that ode out? Thought I was hidi’g it well.” He complains, punctuating it with a blocked sniffle. Jenn tuts sympathetically, patting him gently on the shoulder. He knows he must be out of it, as he doesn't move away. She seems to notice this too, her eyes darting to the large digital clock on the wall. 

“Think you can tough it out for fifteen more minutes?” She asks, getting a half-hearted shrug in response.

“It wod't kill mbe.” He mumbles.

Nodding in understanding, Jay pulls out her phone.

“I'll let him know to come pick you up. No offense dude, but you probably shouldn't be driving right now.” Knowing him, she expects at least a little push back from this, as he's been historically against anything even vaguely considered coddling. 

He simply sniffles, wipes his nose, and nods weakly, trying hard not to pay attention to the room spinning as he does. 

“Sou'ds gguhh…

hhuh-ghhTCH'SSCHUEww!” Oh god that one was so loud. He can tell Jenn is looking at him without turning to her, even as he lets out a breathy, congested groan into his hands hiding his face. 

The professor launches into some lengthy discussion about Sisyphus when Jay completely tunes her out again. All he has to do is make it fifteen minutes.

———

Jay finds himself blinking back into semi-awareness after a bit, not having realized he'd dozed off.

“Snrk- wuh… huh?”  He mumbles, distantly feeling the cold touch of a palm against his forehead.

Before he could do anything too embarrassing like lean into the hand, he turns to cough, reaching up a hand to rub his throat with a swallow and a wince. The sleep did nothing but make him feel even more clogged.

When he finally blinks his watery eyes clear, his roommate's form finally becomes visible. He knows he should feel mortified, at least a bit more than he is right now. 

But, at least that means he's got a ride home now. The thought of finally laying in his bed is almost enough to make him sob with relief. 

“El…” He practically whines, feeling the much larger man's arm gently guide him out of the desk by his shoulder. 

“Looks like this thing's kicking your ass, huh?” Elliot comments, the slight amusement in his tone not appreciated by Jay.

“You gave mbe this shit, jackass.” He grumbles with what little anger he can muster. His head resting on Elliot's shoulder as he's guided away certainly doesn't help his case.

“Hey, I warned you. Not my fault you didn't take the multivitamins I offered.” 

Jay lets out a single, breathy laugh.

“You act like you're fifty.” He comments, breaking off to muffle a couple coughs into his fist at the end. 

“At least my cold wasn't this bad. You look like death.”

“Gee, thangks.” Jay knows Elliot is probably right, though. Which is only more embarrassing given that he knows Elliot still managed to look like a runway model even while running 101°. That man has to be blessed.

Speaking of, Jay stalls for a moment, causing Elliot to stop as well. Jay's breath hitches, one hand weakly coming to cup his face, leaning into his roommate's supportive frame as his eyes flutter. 

“HhhhITSCH-UEe! hhgsh'TCHEWww!! Hhhhuhhh…nghohgod-” He groans, stumbling back with the force of the sneezes, lightheaded and drained. 

Elliot's hold around Jay's shoulders tighten, noticing him falter. Unintentionally he pulls the smaller man closer, Jay's face towards Elliot's body as he curls into himself. 

“Oh hey, easy man. We can just-” Before Elliot can finish, Jay snaps forward into Elliot's shirt.

“hhhhHIITSCH’HEWW!!” 

Jay doesn't need to cup his face anymore. Any potential mess has been contained, right into Elliots chest. 

Immediately Jay's already overheated and feverish cheeks somehow redden further, shame permeating that constant bleariness for once.

“Nghh- shit. I'mb sorry, that's- that's so fucki'g gross.” He mumbles into Elliot's shirt, not wanting to look up in fear of his friend's possible expression. 

The chest beneath his hands and nose stutters a couple times in a chuckle. A hand pats him on the back, and he looks up. 

“Hey, I already had it once, so I'm basically immune to it now. No harm no foul.” Elliot offers, a soft smile on his lips. 

A set of coughs release themselves from Jay's lungs, a weak fist half-heartedly covering it. Elliot hums in worry, and nudges Jay to keep walking with him. 

“C’mon, we're almost home. A little sleep will do you some wonders.” 

Jay wanted to retort with the fact that his little nap in the classroom did nothing but make the problem worse, but can't bring himself to. With little to no other choice, Jay allows himself to be guided back to Elliot's car, face still half buried in the man's shirt.

Tomorrow he'll blame it on the medication. But he feels unfairly safe in his roommate's arms. 

[goldenempyrean]

Unfiltered Beauty

〚 Notes - So! I totally forgot that I wrote this ngl, oops. Anyway it hasn’t been edited so excuse the errors :) 〛

〚 Pairing - Scarlett Johansson x Reader 〛

〚 Summary - Scarlett’s sick but powers through her livestream, leaving it up to you to take care of her afterwards. 〛

〚 Wordcount - 880 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

╚════════ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ════════╝

“Are you sure you’re up to this baby?” You asked again as the blonde next to you blew her nose loudly, trying to rid the congestion from her voice, “Nobody will mind if we have to cancel.” 

Scarlett sniffled, “It’ll be fine, do you know how to set this gizmo up?” 

You nodded and positioned your camera up on the tripod on the table infront of you whilst Scarlett rearranged her products, ready for her to show them off. 

Checked everything over, you made sure things looked good before nudging your wife’s shoulders and handing her the tissue box to keep beside her out of view of the camera. 

Scarlett gave you a weak smile and dabbed at her runny nose with a tissue. "Thanks, baby.” She murmured, her voice still tinged with congestion. She took a deep breath, trying to gather her energy and enthusiasm for the upcoming live stream.  

“Is everything ready?” The camera blinked in anticipation as you made sure to check everything over a final time and with an approving nod, you pressed start. 

"Hello, everyone!" Scarlett greeted her awaiting online audience, her voice slightly hoarse as she spoke. “I hope you're all doing well. Please excuse my voice today, I’m not feeling so well but everything’ll be fine. Anyway! Today, I have some amazing products to share with you." She picked up a jar of a skincare cream and began explaining its benefits, her passion for beauty evident even in her current state. 

As Scarlett continued her product demonstration, her enthusiasm and knowledge shone through despite her stuffy nose. However, as she reached for another jar, a sudden tickle overwhelmed her sinuses. Her eyes widened, and she desperately tried to stifle the sneeze that was building up within her. 

She quickly glanced at you, panic evident in her expression. Without missing a beat, you reached for the tissue box and passed it to her discreetly, just in time. Scarlett cupped her hand over her nose, her face contorting as she let out a loud, muffled sneeze into the tissue. 

Sitting behind the camera, you gave her a sympathetic smile and mouthed a silent “Bless you” and judging by the grateful look in her eyes, you knew she was thankful. 

"Excuse me!" she exclaimed, her voice slightly muffled from her hand covering her mouth. She turned back to the camera, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Sorry about that, folks. It seems my cold has a mind of its own today." 

Just as she was about to resume her presentation, another tickle assaulted her nose, signaling another imminent sneeze. Her eyes widened, and she looked at you with a mix of desperation and resignation. You swiftly reached for another tissue from the box and held it out to her, your expression filled with understanding. 

Scarlett grabbed the tissue just in time, but this time the sneeze was even stronger than before. She released a series of rapid sneezes that she tried to muffle as best she could. The force of the sneezes made her shoulders shake, and she closed her eyes tightly, hoping to relieve the tickle in her nose. 

Once the fit subsided, your wife let out a sigh of relief and turned back to the camera, her cheeks now even more flushed. She chuckled nervously apologised, “Sorry guys, this is so embarrassing.”  

As the live stream went on, Scarlett's energy and passion gradually overshadowed her initial embarrassment. Her genuine love for the products and her dedication to sharing her knowledge with her audience were evident in every word she spoke, even as she occasionally had to pause to sneeze or blow her nose. 

Meanwhile, the online audience responded with warmth and understanding. They flooded the chat with messages of support, telling Scarlett not to worry and that they appreciated her authenticity. 

Eventually though, you could see the exhaustion getting too her and came into frame as you sat down beside her, “Well I’d like to thank everyone who tuned in to see everything but I’m afraid this lovely lady here needs to go lay down” 

Scarlett leaned against you, her tired eyes reflecting both disappointment and gratitude. "Thank you all so much for your understanding. I promise to make it up to you when I'm feeling better." She mustered a weak smile, her voice barely above a whisper. 

You reached out to turn off the camera, ending the live stream. As the screen went black, you gently guided Scarlett to stand up, supporting her weight as she swayed slightly from exhaustion. 

Together, you made your way to the bedroom, where Scarlett settled herself under the covers. She snuggled into the pillows, finding comfort in the warmth and softness that enveloped her. 

You sat by her side, running a gentle hand through her hair. "Rest now, my love," you whispered soothingly. "You just get comfy, alright?" 

Scarlett nodded weakly, her eyelids heavy with fatigue. "Thanks baby" she murmured, her voice filled with both love and fatigue. 

You smiled tenderly at her, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. "You're welcome, my love. I'll take care of you." With that, you dimmed the lights and ensured she had everything she needed within reach before quietly leaving the room, allowing her to rest undisturbed. 

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[ladyosiriscreates]

Goodness I just read your amazing Soap one shot! So good! Could I ask for Gaz taking care of an unwell female reader (totally not based on my current situation at all)? Thank you 🖤

I kept looking at this so many times in just pure disbelief. HELLO GREATSTORMCAT I love reading your drabbles they're truly a treat to read. Also I love Gaz he is one of my favorites. Rudy Parra is also my beloved. and if you would like something NSFW from him just leave another ask/idea and I will write it because I have FEELINGS AND IDEAS.

I'm in a Sickbed, but at least it's Yours.

Gaz x Fem!Reader for the opulent @greatstormcat (3.2k words)

Tags: Illness, insecurity, fluff, comfort, so much fucking comfort, this man was made to love someone, mutual pining that just boils over,

You had known it was coming. The dregs of winter that brought along pressure drops that threatened to blow your sinuses through the rest of your head. Fever, aches, chills and the incessant fog around your head that clouded everything and led your body to exhaustion… man fuck that.

For the first few days, you thought you might be dying.

But today, you certainly wished it was so. Because surely it would be a greater mercy than whatever fuckery your body was fighting off. 

And that was what led you to now, standing in the kitchen of an apartment that wasn’t yours, wearing soft pajamas that certainly didn’t belong to you, and staring at a fridge that looked familiar- but also wasn’t yours. 

“...C’mon luv, you’ve been staring at my closed fridge door for the better part of fifteen minutes. And as fucking hilarious as it might be to see you disassociate to the hum of it, I’m half afraid you’ll keel over if you take another step.” Came a kind voice, soft laughter permeating the hazy, unpleasant fog of ick that hung around your brain. Turning your head, you met the warm, impossibly dark eyes of one Kyle Garrick. Your long term friend.

Friend.

Why had he always been just a friend?

You two had revolved around each other from the moment you met, always within each others orbit though barely ever colliding.

For that matter… how had you gotten here? And when?

“Gaz?” You slurred, voice light as you grabbed onto the counter. “Don’t think I’m home right now.” Gentle arms encircled your body, coaxing you into his chest despite your weak protests. “No you can’t, ‘m sick, and if you get sick i’m damn near certain your team’ll hunt me for sport. And I promise that is not how I’d like to be hunted.”

But your protests fell on deaf ears as you were lifted into his arms. Which seemed to be for the better with how the room spun as he did. “S’alright, I’m on leave for the next two weeks anyways. I can afford a little bit of sickness. But I believe you when you say you’re not home.” He teased. “Not a whole lot goin’ on in that pretty little head?”

“Well it fuckin’ hurts.” You retorted with a scoff, arms easing around his shoulders as you nestled into the crook of his neck. The gentle scent of mint and earth churned at your senses, weaving their way through your stuffed sinuses to bring comfort to your humming mind. “You think my head is pretty?”

“That’s what you got out of that?” Kyle chuckled in return, shaking his head as he took you past the threshold of his own bedroom and laying you against his bed, sitting at its edge. But you didn’t let go. Like a lifeline you clung to his neck, keeping him bent over you before pulling your head back to meet his gaze.

Perhaps it was the soft light cascading through the window, pale gold in the setting sun, but he shimmered in your vision- elegance and refined beauty. “...If I were more selfish a woman, I’d tell you what I’m thinking.” you whispered, eyes flitting in a triangle between his own eyes, and the lips that were now pursed.

“If I were more selfish a man, luv, I’d keep you in this bed- my bed, and never let you up from it. But maybe that’s just your fever talking…” He soothed, reaching up to untangle your arms from his shoulders and laying you back down. When you protested, he cupped your cheek, thumb rubbing small circles into the feverish skin. “You don’t know how worried I was when you texted me.”

Your brows furrowed, lips parting slightly as you glanced around. “I… texted you?” Surely not- but actually… where was your phone again?

“I’m not sure what you were trying to say, but the words help, medicine and sick were all in it. And all misspelled. You had me worried, and the state I found you in wasn’t much better. Laying under a heap of blankets and groaning to yourself about how death would be better than this?” He teased, but beneath the lighthearted nature, even now you could see it, that concern. The genuine care he possessed. Selfishly, you wished it was only for you.

“So you came?” you asked, unable to hide your own surprise.

“Of course.” Gaz whispered, huffing out a small laugh. “I always come when you call. Kinda wish you’d call more, sweetheart.” 

Finally, you allowed yourself to surrender back into the softness of his bed, suddenly enveloped by an almost overwhelming sense of him. “I have a fever.” You explained quietly.

“Yes, I know this.” he replied.

“I’m hoping it’s high enough I won’t remember this tomorrow, depending on how it goes.” You muttered, lifting a hand to drag across your congested and stuffy nose- what a great way to start things. “...I hate you. No. wait. No, that's definitely not right.” You scoffed, clenching your jaw. “I hate… when you’re not around. I hate being apart from you. I hate the way you make me feel when I know you’re just being kind and genuine. I hate wanting you more than a plant craves the sun-”

Kyle’s eyes grew wider as you spoke, these words the clearest to fall from your tongue since he’d picked you up this morning. And though it seemed you weren’t done speaking, he carefully stole your hand from your face, placing your fingertips to his lips for a moment. “My turn?”

“Your turn.” came your reply, meek beneath the sudden warmth of his voice.

“I hate being apart from you too. I hate feeling like we’re in this dance but always with different partners, and at most I can catch your eye from the other side of a ballroom- but your card is always full and I’m never sure if there’s more room for me.” He hummed, massaging your palm as he held your hand delicately within his own. “I hate that you keep me at arms length because you’re afraid of seeming weak, that the world has made you so afraid to be vulnerable- while you still crave the ability to be so.”

His words floated through your sick-addled brain, finding yourself eager to drown in the sound of his voice. “It’s hard..”

“I know luv. But I want you to let me in. I want to be there for you. I’d drop everything and run if you called my name for even a moment.” He promised, reaching up to push sweat slicked strands of hair from your face.

“I’m a mess.” You argued.

“Then let me help you clean it up. I’m by no means perfect either, as much as you might try to put me on a pedestal. Seeing each other clearly is the best thing we could do, because…  I… I want more. Maybe I always have. But falling into step with you is easier than falling into anything else.” he exclaimed, glancing toward his window at the golden light that began to fade, growing warmer as the sun dipped beneath the horizon. “I won’t say I can fix you, because I don’t fucking think you’re broken. The fact you’re still here is proof of that.”

Tears stung at the corners of your eyes, the feeling dulled by the fog of exhaustion that had snuck its way around your body. “Am i dreaming?”

“Do you want to be?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“...I don’t know. I’m scared.”

“Me too, but honestly- I’m more terrified of going through life wondering what this could have been if I hadn’t told you.” Kyle admitted, his weight making the bed dip, your body rolling slightly in towards him.

“Kyle…” you breathed, forcing your eyes open, desperate to meet his. “Tell me again when I wake up in the morning. Promise me it isn’t a dream then… because if you say it again, I’ll believe you. God, I want to believe you.” You exclaimed, voice pitched as your lids fell heavy again. “My walls have always been made of glass when it came to you… and you, fucking… stupid, handsome, pure as sunlight you… carried a hammer with you all along.”

Kyle nearly gawked in return, your words painting a most vivid landscape and technicolor sky. A lilac sunrise when he hadn’t known purple was his favorite color.  “Luv, I’ll tell it to you every day until you have no choice but to believe it. So for now, sleep. I’ll bring you back some medicine and warm ginger tea…”

“But… you don’t even like tea?” you mumbled, a bit of surprise coloring your tone.

“Yeah, but I like you. You’d be surprised at the pieces of you I keep with me when I wasn’t able to have the real thing.” He explained, resting a hand atop your head so that he might soothingly stroke at your hair, the repeated notion lulling you into slumber. “...but I’ll admit none of it compares to having you here and now.”

When morning came there was a soft weight on your chest- warm, but not unpleasant. Different than the weight of stuffiness and congestion, of the phlegm and cough that had been plaguing you. As your eyes opened and you shifted up to prop yourself on an elbow, you found Gaz beside you in a chair, his head resting on your hip as he slumbered. It couldn’t have been comfortable, draping himself over the edge of his own bed. But like a flood the memories returned, gentle touches and words spoken beneath a setting sun. Every piece of him draped in gold and idolatry.

You pressed your hand to his cheek, before turning your head into your shoulder and coughing. Not truly the way you would have preferred it, but the end goal was the same as he lifted his head, giving you a dizzying smile as he pushed himself up on his arms.

“Mornin’ sweetheart. Get some better sleep last night?” He hummed, voice a bit warmer and gravelly than usual.

For once you’re happy that you don’t currently possess a hold of all your mental faculties,  as otherwise you very well may have jumped him right there. But instead, like a reasonably more dignified moron, you found yourself nodding. “...I’m in your bed.”

“Astute observation skills, you should be a detective with that level of perception.” He taunted, reaching to the bedside table and bringing back a mug of now cooled, half drank tea. “It’ll be bitter as hell, but let’s get a bit of fluid into you before you try to get up, sweetheart.”

“Kyle, I'm in your bed.” You stressed again. 

“Yes and it’s about time, really.” He sighed, grin cheeky as he watched you go through phases of surprise and confusion. “Alright, alright, calm down Inspector Gadget. You’re gonna give yourself an aneurysm thinking that hard.”

With a steady hand you stole the mug of tea, that even cold, you could tell was your favorite, made just the way you’d prepare it- how long had he known such fine minutiae of your being. How long had he been memorizing the way you existed so he could mimic it for your comfort. “...am not.” You muttered, giving him a half-hearted withering glare over the mug of tea.

The bed dipped again as he sat upon it, pulling you forward by your shoulder before pressing his lips to your forehead. Time itself seemed to suspend, small bits of dust hanging in the air as you relished in the feeling of soft lips and a gentler hand upon your forehead. “I think your fevers finally broken… which makes sense, you seem a bit more with it this morning. I’m relieved.”

Dumbfounded, you lifted your gaze to his lips as he pulled back, before finding their way ever higher to meet the amused deep brown eyes that could churn you like the earth itself. “I feel a bit better today.” You finally admitted, finding your voice again- as thick as it was. “I can probably head home-”

“No.” He exclaimed, shaking his head. “Shoulda known the first thing you’d try to do is free yourself like you think you’re a burden at my side.” Kyle sighed, clenching his jaw for a moment before standing up. Fear struck you, like a white hot iron at your spine. You didn’t want him to leave.

The fear was only present for a moment before you were lifted by your hips and pushed back against the headboard, Kyle climbing atop the bed to straddle your waist and pin your shoulders. “I need you to pay attention, sweetheart.”

Inhaling sharply, you could do little but nod, meeting his gaze with wide eyes and blown pupils. If you weren’t still sick, the places your mind went would trail ever darker. Even now, you could imagine the feel of his lips attacking every sensitive spot from your throat to inner wrist.

“You told me I had to tell you this again, and I should have known you were serious.” He exclaimed, one hand climbing until he cradled your chin between his thumb, pointer and middle finger. “I’m in love with you- and trust me, falling in love with one of my best friends hadn’t been the plan, but God above it was so easy. You are so easy to love, not just for the positive attributes you put on display for everyone, but for the pieces of yourself you show me when we’re alone. For the way you allow yourself to crumble and break just a little bit when you’re with me. For being my safe space. So yes, I meant it last night when I said I wanted you to stay and be with me. Because I’m in love with your dense ass. Just like you’re in love with me. I hate being apart from you. And I hate that we overthink ourselves into these goddamn ruts and it’s kept us apart for even longer than-”

His words were more than enough, but the mounting desperation in his voice, his gaze was enough to spurn you, hands reaching up and cradling his cheeks. “You’re right.” you interrupted softly. “I’m in love with you. Your diligence, your determination… I love all of it, Kyle. When we’re out with friends all I care about is seeing you, because if you’re enjoying yourself then I feel like I can enjoy things too. You make my soul sing, and when it does it’s just trying to mimic whatever you’re humming.”

Kyle’s face broke into a grin, the corner of his eyes crinkling as he pulled your forehead to his. “We’re idiots.” He admitted. “Took us far too long to get here.”

“What matters is that we got here- and I-” unceremoniously the moment was shattered as you abruptly turned away and coughed, groaning through the interrupted moment. “Fuck.”

“You fuck?”

“I take it back, I hate you.” You groaned, hearing the musical rumble of his laugh as he let up off of you, popping out two pills from the packaging on the bedside table. 

“No you don’t.” Kyle teased, taking a sip from your mug and tossing the pills into his mouth before grabbing your chin and inclining your head. There was barely a moment to question it before you were met with the feeling of lukewarm tea and medicine pouring past your lips. It was nearly seamless, only a few droplets slipping from your lips as you swallowed back the tea. But for a moment, you both lingered there, the taste of ginger and orange stinging at your lips before leaning into him, unwilling to part with what you’d finally found.

No, you didn’t hate Kyle Garrick. There was little he could do to truly anger you, so hating him was out of the question. He accepted your surrender by wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you closer into his arms as he deepened the kiss. It was warm, making up for lost time. Like two galaxies finally collapsing into each other and spinning into something beautiful and new. You didn’t part until you were breathless, which was unfortunately much sooner than you would have liked.

“You’re gonna get sick.” you whispered.

“If that means I get to stay in bed with you for the rest of my leave, I think it’ll be worth it.” He promised, slowly slumping over onto his side before drawing you into his embrace. He massaged slow, soothing circles into your lower back, his other hand keeping your head tucked against his chest. “I made some soup for you last night, pots on the stove so I can get it simmering again soon.” Kyle murmured. “Stay with me? Ride this out- just stay for the rest of my leave?”

Your laugh, as small as it was, seemed like true music to his ears. A heavenly chorus to a man who hadn’t believed in years. “I’ll stay. Maybe I’ll get the turn to play caretaker once you get sick from kissing me, dumbass.”

“All part of the plan.”

“There’s no plan, Kyle.” You snorted, though your gaze was warm and soft as you both stayed trapped against the sheets.

“Well… just existing with you is good too.” He promised, lips turning up as he brought your foreheads together.

The next two days were spent in a most confusing sort of reverie. Anytime you moved, Kyle shadowed you, his hands covering and guiding yours. Grabbing things before you could think to want them, even carrying you from his bed to his couch as he bundled you up before situating himself beside you. He kept you hydrated, setting timers for your meds and keeping you nearby when your weakened body slept. But as your body grew stronger, the telltale signs of illness began to take their toll on Kyle.

You laughed, as three days later you were nearly normal, and he was standing in the kitchen, head bowed and lips pouty as he looked at you beneath thick lashes.

“I did warn you.” You chastised, moving forward to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

“No regrets.” He grumbled, spinning you in his arms to rest his head atop yours, and keep his hands on your waist. “Think of it as a return on investment.”

“Then I guess we’ll be investing forever, hm?” You teased, chuckling softly as you allowed your weight to lean back into his.

“Rich in love and rich in life… I love you.” Kyle sighed, somehow looking forward to the rest of the week and a half ahead of them, even with the misery of illness looming over him.

“I love you too, forever and always.” You promised.

“Forever and always.”

[bigoted-chicken]

Ha//zbin Ho//tel - Out For Love (A Zestmilla Story)

I don't have much else to say other than.... Zestmilla supremacy

Also this is featuring some HCs I have for Carmilla's backstory so that's some fun shit. I may actually write a normal fic elaborating on those little details.

Anyway I am very tired and my brain is soup so please enjoy

===

“Hh-! HiiHZzz’chuu!!”

“Señora Carmine?”

“What?”

Carmilla turned around sharply to face the tiny Imp servant that was standing in the doorway to her bedroom holding a silver tray with a single lacey handkerchief folded on top. In her momentary lapse of focus, the pearl necklace she’d been fumbling with for the last ten minutes slipped out of her large hands and she had to bite back a sharp foreign curse word.

“Señorita Clara and Señorita Odette requested that I bring this to you,” the servant said, holding out the tray to her.

She narrowed her eyes down at the Imp, reluctantly taking the handkerchief and folding it into the hidden breast pocket of her dress, refusing to let one of her underlings see her in such a vulnerable moment as blowing her nose.

“Thank you, Lester, that will be all,” she said in a croaky voice, clearing her throat as the servant scampered out of the room.

Carmilla bent down and picked the necklace off the ground, going back to trying to fasten together the two tiny chains with her giant fingers that seemed unnaturally shaky today. Her hands were normally as steady as you would expect from an expert markswoman like herself, but the rising pressure behind her eyes and the light goosebumps forming on her shoulders were spelling doom for the evening she had planned with Zestial.

Even though Zestial was as close to retired as an Overlord of Hell could be, the same couldn’t be said for Carmilla. Despite her best efforts to stay in touch with her oldest and closest friend, with her busy schedule loaded with overseeing turf wars, managing her many factories and warehouses, doing arms deals, and dodging the occasional assassination attempt, it felt like the only times lately that her and Zestial got to spend a peaceful moment together were in the brief hour or two after Overlord meetings when they enjoyed a cup of tea and shared news from their respective territories – until inevitably her attention would be called away because of some brand new fire she had to put out. She could have possibly gotten away with calling Overlord meetings more often and coming up with increasingly contrived reasons to hold them, but having to deal with the Vees’ tomfuckery every single meeting made the idea absolutely not worth it.

With that in mind, she was both surprised and incredibly grateful when Zestial approached her and asked if she would meet him for a nice quiet evening under the light of the full moon in the human world. Carmilla had initially wanted to refuse, not wanting to put him through that kind of trouble, but he assured her that she was worth the effort and no expense would be spared, and when she really considered it she decided that an opportunity like this would likely not present itself again. So now here she was, still fumbling with her necklace and about five seconds away from abandoning it all together out of frustration.

“Mamá? Do you need help?” She recognized the voice of her daughter Odette and turned to see her standing exactly where the Imp servant had been standing a few minutes ago.

Carmilla sighed. “You’re welcome to try if you must.”

Odette approached her mother silently and gently took the back clasps from her, easily fastening them together, meanwhile Carmilla felt a slowly building pressure in her sinuses that bloomed into an itch that had become all too familiar to her that day.

“Hah-! HAATZzz’chu!”

“Salud,” Odette said.

“Thank you, cariño…” Carmilla groaned, reaching for the handkerchief in her pocket and dabbing at her leaking nostrils, praying to whatever God had abandoned them that her makeup wouldn’t start running now of all times.

“Mom, are you sure that you’re okay…?” She hadn’t even noticed Clara also enter the room, standing a foot or two behind her sister. “I’m sure Zestial will understand if you’re not feeling well.”

“I agree with Clara, you look and sound… well, with all due respect, terrible,” Odette added.

Carmilla was about to deliver a sharp retort to her two well-meaning daughters, as least as sharp as it could be through the increasing brain fog, when a familiar meek voice spoke up.

“Señora Carmine…?” 

“What!?” Thoroughly irritated, Carmilla snapped at Lester who now stood in the doorway again with his hands folded behind his back.

The poor imp trembled like his boss was about to drive one of the angelic spears displayed on the wall into his neck. “U-Uhm… Lord Zestial has arrived…”

“...Oh.”

Totally ignorant to the happenings between Carmilla and her daughters, Hell’s oldest Overlord waited at the entrance to the Carmine mansion, hands folded to his sides, towering over any servant who dared cross his path. Though he could have walked in the door and perhaps would have faced no repercussions, it would have been most ungentlemanly to do such a thing -- even with as close as they were and as long as they’d known each other.

Assuming nobody had let things slip -- and they seldom let things slip, for no one dared to find out what would happen once they went against Zestial’s wishes -- then he had only to follow his previously-determined plan today. His goal today was simple: win Carmilla over, loosen her up a little, then find out for sure whether the way she felt about him was the same way he felt about her.

Almost a minute had passed and there was still no sign of Carmilla, when the weapons Overlord seemed to magically appear at the top of the staircase and began to descend it; though she tried to remain poised there was an undeniable energy of almost childlike excitement when she saw Zestial waiting in the foyer.

“Zestial, it’s wonderful to see you my friend,” she acknowledged once they were an appropriate distance apart. “You look quite dashing – I’m glad to see I did not in fact overdress.”

Her fellow Overlord returned her greeting with the lightest smile. “Few would wish to underdress for a night in thine presence,” he said with a chuckle. “Has thy day treated thou kindly so far?”

Carmilla smiled as they left the Carmine manor side-by-side. “Compared to every other day this week it has actually been, though I’d argue that isn’t a high bar to reach,” she let out a light cough, disguising it as a simple clearing of the throat in acknowledgement of her comment. “I am grateful to have been able to set aside this evening though.”

“Likewise,” Zestial replied. “I hope thou have prepared thineself for an evening to remember; before I begin, it must be asked for the sake of convenience and leisure: wouldst thou care to join me for a ride down the Styx?”

“If you’re offering, I would love to,” she gingerly hooked her left arm with his right, casting a brief glance at the inside of her home and catching sight of her daughter’s concerned faces before she closed the door. “I just hope that you haven’t gone and spent too much money on me tonight, Zestial,” she said with a slightly coy smile.

“What is too much money when one has the sway of an overlord?” said Zestial, dodging the question almost outright. “Come, now; thou willst find it a grand day once our trip doth concludes. Dare I spoil the end to say: thou willst find the river to only be the beginning of what I have in store.”

“Well in that case, it’s best that we don’t delay,” Carmilla said, in her head wondering how she ever managed to find such a kind and gentlemanly soul in this festering hellhole.

“Agreed.” Without further hesitation, Zestial and his old friend began to walk arm-in-arm to their destination, enjoying the sights -- as otherwise bleak as they were. Zestial could swear that he had just witnessed someone jump off a building in the distance -- and somebody else was eating what looked to be their own mother. Yes, it was a normal day in Hell -- of that, there was no doubt.

Though far from atypical, the usual goings-on of Hell were not about to get in the way of Zestials’ plans. His servants were already aware of his desire to head into the human world once he and Carmilla reached the end of Styx -- and if anything were to get in his way…well, nobody was willing to let that happen. Perhaps the only person who could reverse his plans at this point was Carmilla herself.

The two overlords chatted casually about this and that for several blocks, willfully ignoring the screams of agony that followed their path, Zestial sharing news about some freshly fallen souls he’d managed to rope into a contract, Carmilla venting about the shenanigans her daughters had been up to recently in their apparent efforts to give their immortal mother a heart attack. They were near the entrance to Cannibal Town when Carmilla suddenly turned away, pulling her arm out of Zestial’s. At first he was worried he’d said something that offended her, but then he saw her withdraw the lace handkerchief.

“My apologies,” she said with a sniffle that sounded wetter than she wanted it to. “I’m not sure why but my sinuses have been acting up something fierce lately – my guess is the pollen count must be on the rise…”

“Dost thou need a moment?” her companion inquired. “Thy time may be limited, but I am willing to look away while thou handles thyself.”

“Thank you…” Although blowing her nose in front of Zestial wasn’t much less embarrassing than doing it in front of her servants, she could at least trust that he would never take advantage of her perceived weakness.

With that in mind, she cupped the lace handkerchief over her nose and let out a loud and frankly disgusting sounding blow that guaranteed there was no chance she was putting that thing back in her pocket. It was all for naught anyway, because her sinuses stayed clear for a grand total of two seconds before a sudden tickle lit her nostrils aflame and pushed out all thoughts that had nothing to do with stopping the impending sneeze in its tracks.

Standing just beside her, uncertain if she was finished, Zestial took a gander over his shoulder to see the bridge of Carmilla’s nose wrinkling as she hid the rest of her face from him. “Ist thou alright--?”

“I–...” Carmilla couldn’t hold back a sneeze to save her life, she knew that already, her daughters knew that, Zestial probably knew that too, but knowing that still didn’t stop her from trying. “Ih... Ihh’m – fhhiih – hh! HHEZZz’Chuu! Jesucristo… ‘Scuse m’be…”

Her outburst left Zestial initially uncertain how to follow up -- whether that be with silence or with a culturally-appropriate response. “Salud, dear,” he finally said after much deliberation. “Dost thou know for certain if thine ailment is the result of pollen, or mayhaps something else?” For the first time in what seemed to be decades, the Overlord felt the slightest twinge of anxiety right after saying that -- as if worried that he had just asked the wrong question.

“I’m fine, Zestial, I promise,” she dismissed him rather quickly, folding the handkerchief over so the gross part wasn’t visible but so that it still had at least one more good use in it. “I’m not sure what came over me there but I swear it’s nothing. We should go or we’re going to be late.”

The truth of the matter was that Carmilla would say she was fine whether she actually was or not.

While not totally convinced, Zestial nodded in agreement. “Thou makest a good point; let us continue.” With that, he held his arm out for Carmilla to interlock hers with before they went on their way to the Styx. They began to walk up a subtle incline -- one which Carmilla did not notice until Zestial had pointed it out -- for it was this incline which allowed the Styx to flow as naturally as it did from one base to another. He understood this to be a little counter-intuitive, given that they were going to be transported far above everything else once they made their way down, but such thoughts only sprung up in his mind as a result of planning this event for over two months.

The only thing he had not fully decided yet was where to ask. It made all too much sense to inquire on the status of their relationship while they were going down a river -- but a river in Hell? It seemed like too much of a gamble that something would go awry. Meanwhile, the thought of opening up to her in the human world had less potential for things going wrong, but there were few places there that he knew very well -- and there was always a high possibility that something may have changed since the last time he was in the human world.

By the time they were nearly to the peak where one of Zestial’s servants was waiting, Zestial thought he could hear a wavering breath coming from the Overlord at his side. “Carmilla?” he began, taking a look down. “Ist thy nose causing trouble again?”

“J-Just a tad,” she sniffled, hoping it was just a passing tickle.

The short walk up the shallow incline would have normally been no issue for her, but as they reached the peak the weapons Overlord found herself feeling winded, her normally impeccable balance wavered ever so slightly and she had to resist the desire to lean against Zestial: Not only because she didn’t want to risk knocking over her spindly friend with her denser body weight, but because if she did he would almost certainly have felt the unnatural heat beginning to creep on her skin.

Just as they reached the peak of the hill and their boat was in sight, Carmilla’s hitching breaths suddenly crescendoed. She spun away from Zestial yet again, managing to bring the crook of her elbow up to her face, but just as they both expected a thunderous expulsion, her shoulders relaxed and she sheepishly turned back around to face the confused servant and a clearly concerned Zestial.

To that, Zestial couldn’t help but chuckle: a sound which would have stopped the hearts of those who were not within his social circle. “Were I the air itself, I would know better than to irritate thee in such a bothersome way,” he quipped.

Carmilla couldn’t help but chuckle at his comment, an action which shifted the congestion settling in her chest and forced her to swallow down a bit of phlegm that her body desperately wanted to cough up. She could only hope that Zestial wouldn’t notice that she’d been clearing her throat every five minutes now, and it was starting to get to a point where the little ‘hem hem’s weren’t enough to satisfy the itch in the back of her throat.

Before she could think of uttering another word, the servant at the boat spoke up. “Mister Zestial, Senoria Carmilla,” he began, bowing to each of them. “Your ride is ready for the two of you whenever.”

“Very good. Thou mayst leave us.”

Without any further prompting from Zestial, the imp gave one last bow before leaving the scene, leaving the boat suspended by a rope which anchored it to the support in the ground by Zestial and Carmilla’s feet. Once assured they were all by themselves, Zestial gestured to the boat, a glowing green grin turning up the pitch-black features of his face. “After thee, milady.”

Carmilla smiled warmly at him, placing one hand in his to steady herself as she stepped into the boat. For a brief moment there was the worry that her pointed angelic steel-tipped shoes would break right through the wooden hull but those fears proved to be unfounded. However, as she lowered herself down onto the seat, there was a subtle but noticeable tremor in her legs that was unbecoming of her usual poise and grace. She wouldn’t admit it but she was glad to finally be able to sit down and take some of the pressure off of her aching body, however short lived it would be before they reached their destination.

Zestial spoke not another word as he began to lower himself into the boat, as well, his movement precise and deliberate as always. There was just enough space between the two of them to cozy up to each other without feeling too cramped for space -- like slipping a millimeter either way would capsize the boat.

Once assured that they were secure, Zestial undid the knot on the rope that held them in place -- and within seconds, they began to drift off. Zestial was quick to grab the oar that had been left by the riverside before they got too far away -- before the river widened from its initial creek-like start.

“Zestial – I’ve been thinking,” Carmilla suddenly spoke up after only a couple minutes of drifting along the river’s current. “Not to imply that I’m not appreciative of getting to spend time with you like this, but it all just feels like… a lot… I mean, the boat ride, the trip to the human world… You know that I’m not the type of woman to ask for too much, especially from you…”

For once, Zestial initially found himself unsure how to immediately respond to her comment. “Ist…this fair trip truly ‘too much?’” he asked, partly to himself. “Mayhaps I misunderstood; I would not have done this for thee if I did not desire to, and such plans do not stretch my reach as an Overlord, thou must understand.”

“No, no, it isn’t too much…!” she frantically tried to reassure him as she reached out to touch his shoulder, worried she’d upset her friend without meaning to. “It’s just–... I suppose it’s more than I’ve gotten used to for a long time now… I haven’t had a man go out of his way like this for me since, well, Ernesto…”

Hearing Carmilla speak her late ex-husband’s name for the first time in years was enough to make Zestial’s heart skip a beat. With such mention, Zestial had better context to her current state of mind -- for she must have felt some kind of way about him if she were willing to speak Ernesto’s name now of all times.

The two of them were quiet for an almost uncomfortable amount of time before Zestial spoke up again. “All is well, Carmilla,” he replied with a smile as he went on to reiterate, “What we do today requires but a flick of a wrist for me to set into action. Many thinketh it difficult to make such plans for thy day, and I understand why thee would believest the same, but I do what I do for good reasons.”

The two Overlords sat there in silence for a moment, silence buzzing between them the way static fills the air right before a strike of lightning. There was only the sound of their breathing overlaced with the lapping of water as Zestial continued to hold the oar in his lap, letting the current take them down at a steady, gradual pace. 

“And… what is that reason…?” Carmilla finally asked.

After facing forward for the last minute, Zestial turned his gaze to Carmilla. “I was saving the moment for when we were among the human world,” he began, withdrawing a sigh as he looked away just as briefly as he’d turned his gaze toward Carmilla. “Mine days grow longer the more I delay the truth to thine ears, but thou art my closest companion and thou deservest to know: I--”

Carmilla interrupted him with a sudden sharp intake of air that made Zestial think for a moment she had hurt herself somehow.

“Hh-! HeiiHHZZZ’Chuu! Hah’ZZZChuu!” She snapped forward with two violently rough sneezes that came dangerously close to displacing the already fragile weight distribution in the boat and causing them to capsize. Immediately afterwards she tried taking in a deep breath, but there was an audible crack of congestion in her throat followed by her doubling over into the crook of her elbow to cough and hack her brains out.

The coughing lasted for almost ten solid seconds straight until she practically sounded like she was choking, and when she finally managed to spit the phlegm blocking her airways into her handkerchief, she slowly unfolded her body, taking in a slow labored inhale like she was testing the waters with her breathing. There was now an obvious pale yellow flush dusting her cheeks, but whether it was from embarrassment, fever, or the straining from the fit she just had, was unclear.

Unable to get a word out, Zestial stared back at Carmilla in awe, almost forgetting for a moment that they were still in a boat. “Thou dost not seem well…” he began. “Perhaps we shall end this journey for now.”

“N-No…! I promise I’m – I’m fine…” she punctuated her sentence with a quick cough directed over her shoulder, her upper body swaying as if cocking her head to the side was enough to make her dizzy.

“It is not allergies that ail thee,” Zestial commented, practically ignoring Carmilla’s pleas. “Tell me: is it something else?”

Knowing that at this point she’d already been caught red-handed, rather than outright admitting it, Carmilla swallowed a lump forming in her throat and said in a vulnerable voice: “Zestial – please… You’ve already gone to such effort for me, I don’t want to ruin it because I’m… weak…”

“I could not fathom to let thee grow weaker.” Without further argument, Zestial dug his oar into the wet ground beneath the boat and pivoted their ride toward the edge of the river. From there, he stepped out, gripping the canoe’s hull as he pulled it partially onto solid earth. He then gestured Carmilla over with his free hand. “If thou wouldst please..”

She hesitated, wanting to still try to plead her case, but another sharp cough that rattled the inside of her chest gave her answer before she could. Once she composed herself enough, she reluctantly began stepping out of the boat. Unfortunately, she had stood up just a tad too quickly, all the blood in her body suddenly felt like it had pooled in her feet. She’d just barely gotten one leg out of the boat when everything around her started spinning and tilting to the side, and the next thing she knew she felt a pair of thin yet strong arms wrap around her body just before she hit the ground.

Like her, Zestial was caught off-guard by her sudden trip, not wanting to think of what would have happened if he had deliberated a moment further. “There, now,” he began, his voice low as if he were holding a kitten. “I dread to think what may have happened, had thou fallenest into the river in thy state.” He began to straighten himself as he continued to hold Carmilla upright, bringing her up with him. “Can thou walk without struggle?”

“I… I think so…” she said, slowly separating herself from Zestial and trying to take a few steps in a straight line, but her legs wobbled and she very nearly fell over again before his hands around her waist steadied her; she hadn’t felt this uncoordinated since the last time she went a little too hard on the Beelzejuice.

“Perhaps if we walk as we were before?” Zestial suggested, holding his arm out as he cast a smile down upon her. “As we had just before entering the boat?”

“M-Maybe…” she wheezed, trying her best to stand up straight with Zestial’s support but feeling like a melting ice cube trying to balance on the center of a metal tray – complete with chills radiating through her as if her blood had frozen in her veins.

After having already stopped their trip, Zestial sought no problem in checking Carmilla’s temperature as he rested his palm against her forehead.

Just by the look on his face, the dizzy Carmilla could tell he wasn’t pleased. “Thou art burning hot…” he mumbled. “I believe I should take thee to thy home. Please excuse me for what I am about to do.”

Before Carmilla could think to ask, Zestial bent down and hooked his arm beneath her legs before hoisting her off the ground entirely, carried aloft in his two arms like a feather.

“Zestial,” Carmilla moaned, yet made no real attempt to protest, every bone in her body focused on resisting the desire to bury her face in his chest and fall asleep like a child. “This is… unbecoming…”

“We’ll be out of the public eye soon enough,” he whispered, his voice dropping as low as hers. “I know a shortcut to thy residence.”

===

Back at the Carmine manor, Clara and Odette sat across from each other on different chairs in the family room that was an offshoot of the foyer. They were patiently waiting for the moment their mother and her hopefully soon-to-be boyfriend would return from their outing and they could get all the details. Clara sat with her legs crossed carefully polishing her collection of angelic steel daggers, while Odette flipped through pages on her clipboard reading over the company’s stock reports from the past month.

“So,” Odette broke the silence, pushing her glasses up on her face. “Do you really think Zestial is actually going to confess tonight…?”

“Oh, 100%,” Clara replied without hesitation, not even looking up from a particularly stubborn speck of dirt stuck to the blade she was cleaning. “He’s not even being subtle this time; I don’t know how mom hasn’t picked up on it at this point.”

“Do you think she’ll reciprocate?”

“Why wouldn’t she? They’ve known each other since before we were even born, she has a chair and a teacup reserved for him at the Overlord meetings, and c’mon, do you think she’d get all dressed up like that for him if she just saw him as a friend?”

Odette playfully rolled her eyes before going back to looking at her clipboard. “I think you read too much into things.”

Clara looked up from her daggers and gave her sister a crooked smirk. “I think you just have no imagination, Odie.”

The two girls were interrupted by a sharp knocking at the door. They were not expecting anyone to come visiting at this hour — especially when Zestial’s plans seemed to imply that they would be gone for hours. Clara immediately sprung up from her chair and went to answer the door, willfully ignoring one of Carmilla’s biggest rules about how “If I’m not home, don’t answer the door for anyone”.

“Hey! What are you guys doing back so–” Clara had initially cracked the door open by an inch then threw it open the rest of the way when she got a glimpse of Zestial’s cloak. “...Soon…”

Her face immediately paled upon seeing Zestial standing there cradling her mother’s body, for a split second she thought that she was dead before Carmilla sucked in a breath and muffled a series of coughs into her fist. Her first instinct was to assume they’d been attacked perhaps, but neither of them bore any visible wounds.

“W-What happened?” Clara asked, stepping aside to let Zestial in.

Their guest entered swiftly, his feet unseen beneath his robe. “Thy mother hast come down with a feverish plight,” he explained as he made his way to the nearest couch. “It wouldst be best if thee could find medicine for her, and mayhaps a thermometer for good measure.” 

“Shit – O-Okay…!” Clara ran off both to fetch the items he had requested and to relay the current situation to her sister.

As he approached the couch, he leaned in to Carmilla’s ear. “We are home now; shall I stay by thy side?”

“Mmm…” 

Carmilla made a soft indecipherable noise, apparently too tired to give a proper answer. Her one hand that gripped Zestial’s shoulder tightened its hold, like she wanted to stop him from slipping away from her so this feeling of their bodies being so close could last forever.

Though he hated to have to pull her away, Zestial eventually got down on his knees so that he could safely and comfortably roll her onto the couch -- after which he found a pillow for her to rest her head upon as she laid on her side. Her eyes were open just a crack, her nose had turned a light red, and her sweaty face still burned to the touch. In spite of her condition, she continued to hold a hand out, as if still believing Zestial’s shoulder to be nearby. Once he realized this, he took hold of her hand to, if nothing else, calm her nerves.

Clara and Odette soon came back into the room, Clara was holding a bottle of cold and flu medicine and a mercury thermometer with a washcloth slung over her shoulder, while Odette carried a small basin full of cold water. Watching the way that Zestial held their mother’s hand and gazed lovingly at her feverish face made Clara desperately wanna know if he’d at least gotten the chance to confess that he’d been hoping for, but obviously now was not the most appropriate time to ask.

Realizing that her sister had taken to just staring instead of actually helping, Odette set down the basin by the couch and then took the rest of the supplies from her.

“Here,” Odette said, handing the thermometer to Zestial since he was the one hovering right over Carmilla.

“I thank thee,” he said before slipping the thermometer between their mother’s lips. After a few seconds, he retracted the device and read the number on it out loud: “One hundred and three.”

“Crap,” Clara huffed, peering over Zestial’s shoulder. “We knew she wasn’t feeling well before she left but – we didn’t think it’d get this bad so quickly… Odie, you think we can get her upstairs to her room together?”

“Unlikely,” Odette said. “Mother easily has over 100lbs on the both of us combined, coupled with the fact she’s barely conscious right now, we’d be hard pressed getting her up the stairs alone.”

“Allow me, then,” said Zestial as he set the thermometer in Clara’s hand and slipped his arms beneath Carmilla’s body. With little effort, he hoisted her up once again. “Thou needn’t accompany me,” he went on, “I know where her room is.”

The girls looked at each other with slight apprehension before silently nodded in agreement.

“O-Okay, we’ll just bring this stuff up later,” Clara said. “But let us know if you need any help, okay?”

“I will do,” Zestial affirmed before making his way to the staircase. Though he could only assume Carmilla’s opinion on him going into her room when she was only half-consciously with him, he bit the bullet and stepped inside once he was at the door.

“I’m sorry,” she suddenly murmured, sniffling as he approached her bed. “I know I disgust you right now…”

Hearing her speak almost made him flinch. It took a second for him to understand what she was referring to, at which point he shook his head. “Pish posh, dear -- I have been disgusted by professionals; thou dost not disgust me in the slightest, even in thy current state.”

With the way she was now, however, it was clear that she was still far from comfortable -- and how could one be comfortable wearing the kind of things she did? Just looking at her in spite of her illness, it was clear to him that she had overdressed for this occasion -- and very deliberately so. Even the knots she usually tied her hair in seemed to cause discomfort for his fellow Overlord, as she would occasionally turn her head, only for her tied-up hair to smack a part of the bed frame.

Once he placed her down upon her mattress, Zestial moved to a spot on the bed adjacent to her and began to undo the many knots keeping her hair up in the unnatural form it had currently taken. Undoing the knots caused her hair to fall over her face and her backside in a way that let her white-and-black locks breathe for once today.

“There thou art,” he murmured, setting her hair ties on the night desk. Just after saying that, he suddenly wondered out loud: “Wouldst thou like me to fetch a drink of water for thee?”

Rather than answering verbally Carmilla shook her head no, reaching an arm out and at first he assumed she was reaching for his hand again, but then she shakily pointed at something behind him; he tried to follow where her finger was pointing and saw a small brass bell on her vanity dresser, at which point he remembered that there were in fact many servants working in the Carmine manor who could handle that task just so that he could remain by her side.

Zestial immediately understood what Carmilla was trying to say and proceeded to ring the bell for a servant -- upon which one of them appeared within seconds: a Hellhound of indeterminable gender that resembled a French Bulldog. When they appeared they initially seemed confused that Señora Carmine was not actually the one who summoned them.

“Lord Zestial,” they bowed politely, knowing they were to treat Zestial the same as they would treat any other member of the Carmine family. “How may I help you…?”

“I must stay with Carmilla in here,” Zestial explained. “She needeth water, for her throat hath become sore over the course of the day.”

The Hellhound nodded, immediately scampering off and returning exactly a minute later with a tray carrying a glass cup and a large glass pitcher filled to the brim with water.

“I shall take it from here,” said Zestial as he took the tray from the servant. “I will call upon thee if thy assistance is needed.”

They bowed again and left to go do whatever it was lowly servants did at this time of day. As the Hellhound made their exit, Zestial turned to Carmilla again to hand her the ice-cold glass. The ripples in the water made it clear just how badly her hands were trembling, but she at least managed to bring the glass to her lips and take a few desperate gulps, several drops spilling down her chin in the process.

For the first time since they made it to this room, Zestial smiled upon Carmilla. “I would be just as thirsty as thee in thy state,” he chuckled. “But art thou feeling any better?”

“Not... not really,” she panted out in between heavy breaths. “You don’t… have to stay if you don’t want to… I promise I’ll… I’ll be fine…” her sentence was punctuated by another series of deep chesty coughs followed by a gasping intake of air. “Hh-HAaHZZZ’CHuuu!”

“Salud, Carmilla,” Zestial responded -- upon which he noticed a box of tissues just out of her reach, which he grabbed and left on the bed for her. “And I assure thee: as ill as thou mayst be, I wish only to be here with thee in the little time we have together -- even if that results in a change of plans.”

Carmilla took a small handful of tissues and blew her nose into them, a mostly fruitless waste of energy but it did help her head feel slightly more clear. “You… -snf- You know that you don’t have to… but… I am glad that you’re here anyway… I’m so sorry I ruined your plans – our first chance to spend time together alone in months, and it ends with you needing to take care of me… I’m a horrible friend – I don’t know why you’ve put up with me all this time…”

On such days when he saw his best friend at her lowest, Zestial knew to walk the tightrope and offer consolation where he could without arguing back to her. He knew she wasn’t a horrible friend -- and he also knew, deep down, that Carmilla likely knew that, too. But of all the things that her self-resentment indicated to Zestial, it was the burning desire to know: why? Perhaps now was the best time to explain himself, as he was about to on the boat.

“I told thou earlier,” he began, “that there was a reason for what I do, in spite of perceived concerns of expense. What I do for thee is at my own discretion -- and at my own discretion, I wish only for thee to remember the times we share together.”

Having sat upon Carmilla’s bed for the past couple minutes, he began to scoot closer to the sickly Overlord as he continued -- at the same time his heart began to race and her breath began to catch in her throat, and not as a result of an incoming sneeze.

“The reason why I wish for thy remembrance of our times together is simple: Carmilla -- I see us being more than best friends.” Almost without even noticing, Zestial began to reach his hand out, the tips of his fingers approaching her face before he proceeded to caress her cheek. “I’ve realized my feelings for thee for many a year now, yet never quite found the time or place to admit it. But now that we are together, I must confess that I do imagine us together as more than friends. Perhaps…for a long time, even.”

“Zestial…” his name escaped her mouth as more of an exhale than a spoken word, her hand reached up to touch the one he’d cupped around her cheek. “I’m… not sure I know what to say… all this time, I never imagined that you could feel the same way I do…”

Even when she had given her heart away to another, wed another man and bore his children, she had always felt the gravitational pull that led her back into Zestial’s arms time and time again; perhaps that was why she’d always refused to believe that somewhere in his blackened heart the gentlemanly sinner could desire her the way she desired him. Now she was faced with the truth that had been in front of her face for centuries.

“Perhaps I never made it obvious,” Zestial acknowledged, “for I did not want thee to see me as lesser for having greater feelings for thee than I originally anticipated. Perhaps that is why I went through the trouble of trying to bring us to the human world, even if that is not what we did.” He paused, taking a moment to breathe as the last sentence by itself had almost robbed him of inspiration. “How long hast thou felt the way thee have?”

“It’s hard to say when exactly,” she said wistfully, her feverish eyes gazing beyond him as if looking into their shared past. “I always felt indebted to you in some manner ever since that fateful day when we met, when you saved me… but perhaps it’s only been within the last couple hundred years that whenever I looked at you… I pictured a future for us together that I was under the impression you’d never want… then I met Ernesto, the girls came along eventually, and yet I still could never stop myself from imagining that future…”

“I never wanted to come between thee and thy lover,” said Zestial. “As long as thou wert happy, so was I. But now I find myself at a crossroads, having wondered for so long if it would be right to confess mine truest feelings to thee.” Again he paused, a smirk on his face. “I have a feeling thy daughters already knoweth how I feel; it is not as if I have avoided them in all the time I have known them.”

Carmilla found herself truly at a loss for words now, wanting nothing more than to take him in her arms but feeling too weak to even sit up at the moment. For now she was simply content with feeling his cool hand on her warm face, gazing into his many eyes, wishing she had the strength to express every unspoken word she’d ever wished to say to him.

“Aha! I fucking knew it!” All of a sudden they heard Clara shout triumphantly from the other side of the bedroom door, at which point they both realized it had been cracked ajar this entire time.

“Clara!! Would you shut up??” Odette frantically whispered. “Oh Satan – they totally heard that–”

That couldn’t have happened at a more appropriate time. Realizing this, Zestial turned his gaze back to Carmilla. “Like I said: they already knoweth how I have felt about thee.”

Carmilla let out a wheezy laugh, amusement over the situation overriding any anger she would have otherwise had at her daughters’ lack of respect for privacy. They were both smart girls, of course they’d been able to tell when she hadn’t. 

Ignoring Clara and Odette as they sheepishly entered the room, she turned her attention back to Zestial. Barring the fact she was currently cooking from the inside out, she wished in this moment that they could stay gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes for the rest of their eternal lives. In the back of their minds was the question of what came next, where could they go from here? How would their status as Overlords affect their relationship? Would others try to take advantage of their weakness that came in the form of their attachment, or would it strengthen their resolve to always protect each other no matter what threats Hell or Heaven threw at them?

All these questions buzzing around her head could be answered later. For now, as her eyelids grew heavier and heavier, she couldn’t imagine a more perfect sight to fall asleep to, and a more perfect future to wake up to.

Before such a thing could happen, however, the four people within the room were greeted to the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching them from below, culminating in one of the imp servants arriving, breathless, looking as though they had just witnessed a murder.

“Clara?? Odette!?” the servant asked Carmilla’s daughters, who stood in his field of view from the rest of the bedroom. “Your mother has been reported missing along with Overlord Zestial! You need to--!” Just as he was about to go on, the imp was greeted to the sight of Zestial and Carmilla next to each other as Clara and Odette stepped out of the way; the very sight of Zestial here at all made the imp’s blood freeze.

“Missing, ye say?” Zestial inquired. “Wherever did thou get such an idea?”

“U-um…” the imp stammered, his tail twisting around one of his legs. “I-I heard the report from your servants, sir. They said they found your boat tipped over, and…” He trailed off.

Zestial’s eyes widened. “The boat,” he remembered, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “Right, well--” Tensing up somewhat, he stood up from Carmilla’s bed before turning to face her with a smile. “It seems I have a record to set straight. I shall return to thee shortly, dear. Just you wait right there. As for thou--” He turned his gaze to the servant. “Tell the rest of the mansion’s servants that Carmilla fareth well in her bed; we had a mere miscommunication, that is all.”

“Y-yes sir!” The imp’s tail loosened around his leg as he gave a bow and made his way back down the stairs.

“Hhm-hm,” Zestial chuckled. “Men doth forget the simplest things when their women’s health takes a turn for the worse. Even I am not immune.” With that, the Overlord stepped out of the room before giving a bow of his own and leaving the residence.

Carmilla watched him go with feverish longing in her eyes, she could hardly remember when she last smiled so wide except for the first time she’d held each of her girls in her arms as tiny newborns.

Speaking of which, Clara came up to her bedside and pulled the blankets up to her chin. “Alright mom, you seriously need to get some sleep.”

“Hm… That’s supposed to be my line,” she remarked, the dreamy expression on her face suddenly twisted into one of irritation as she pawed around the bed for the tissue box, bringing a fresh handful up to her nose just in time. “Hh-hh… hHHATZZZChuuu!!”

[dalchiid]

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 16

A story of obsession, fear, and lust. You're a maid whose Masters forbid you in meeting their guests for the night but your luck runs dry when you run into them and catch the attention of Lord Hoseok himself. He's smitten from the beginning and thus, your fate has been decided.

Pairing: Yandere Vampire Hoseok x Fem/AFAB Reader

Word Count: 7,833

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Obsession, Possessive, Angst, Fear, Blood, Biting, Dub-Con, Eventual smut

Will add or remove warnings based on what's in each chapter.

I do not condone the behavior being exhibited in my work. This is solely for entertainment purposes and I hope if any of you are ever in a situation like this that you have the chance and ability to run away from it. Take care out there.

DO NOT copy, edit, or repost my work anywhere.

Chapter 16 Warnings: Yandere, Possessive, Obsession, Angst

Prev | Next

"You are no longer my problem." You look over to Hyung-Won. His eyes begin to fill with tears but you know they are not for you. "Get out."

The words echo in your brain like a buzzing beetle. It slices into every single one of your cells and leaves you feeling numb. He told you to get out. No. Your Master banished you from his home. No. So many things you want to say no to but know you cannot.

Hyun-Woo's cries go in and out of your ears. They bleed pain and anguish. They hurt in a way you know only he can feel but they hurt in a way you can also understand because you're hurting too.

You jump at the soft touch of hands on your arms. You look up to see it's Sunmi and she gives a pained look your way. She looks like she wants to say something but keeps quiet as she helps you up. Your vision is blurry from all the tears that continue to pour from you and you have to depend on the maid to lead you out of the room. Bodies block your way and she has to yell at them to move to get around them. There's some hesitancy until they finally make way and you're ushered off towards a destination unknown.

You feel weird especially with hearing how Hyun-Woo's curses and cries fade off into the backdrop. Nothing feels real. You don't feel real. Endless tears and snot stream down your face but you can't bring yourself to care in wiping them. The best you do is try to sniffle wetly into the cold halls as a broken cry escapes you. Your knees almost give out but it's Sunmi's strong hold that keeps you up. You want to thank her but your mind is preoccupied with the image of Hyung-Won tearfully telling you to get out. He said you weren't his problem anymore. Just the idea that you were his problem to begin with pains you. For how long has he been holding you in contempt? It hurts you to know this and it leaves you feeling helpless. He's been quietly dealing with you in the best way he could but it wasn't enough because you were too troublesome for him. To think this hurts you beyond repair.

"Come on." Sunmi's words are soft. "We're almost there."

You don't know where she's taking you until you reach a familiar setting. She opens your door to lead you in and it's from there does she help you sit on your bed. She walks away from you for a second to grab some tissues for you and it's with a gentle touch do you take them from her. You wipe your face before blowing your nose and relieving your sinuses from the pressure. She takes them from you to toss them out and gives you fresh clean ones before she goes to sit by your side.

Her hand is gentle as she rubs your back. Her other hand placed onto your thigh. You can't bring yourself to say a word. Too afraid of shattering yourself even further.

"I'm sorry."

You turn your head slowly to her. Her expression is pained as she continues on.

"I tried to convince him otherwise but I failed. I'm sorry."

Fresh tears pool from your eyes as your bottom lip quivers. You sniffle. "It's not your fault." Your voice shakes with each word.

She looks away towards the wall before sighing. "I really did try but if it weren't for them he might have been swayed."

Your brows pinch together. "Them?"

She hums. "Lords Seokjin and Hoseok."

Your lips part in slight surprise. "W-What about them?"

Sunmi looks back at you before biting her lip. Like she was second guessing on whether she should tell you until she relents. "They," she pauses to sigh. "They came to Hyung-Won with a proposition. Saying how Hoseok and you have been intimate and how it has been causing trouble amongst everyone - they felt it was only right that you should come with them. That way you'll be out of the triplets' hairs and you can fulfill your relationship with Hoseok sans the secrecy."

You nearly choke on your spit. You shake your head no. "There is no - there is no relationship! Why would they say this?"

"I don't know, honey. I don't know."

"Did Hyung-Won - did he at least hesitate?"

Sunmi bites her lip before looking away. Her action being an answer in of itself.

You swallow deeply before looking down at the tissue in your hands. You feel as a tear slips out and lands in the paper and you watch as it wettens in your hold.

He didn't even hesitate. How could he?

"He hates me."

"No," Sunmi starts. "No he doesn't hate you."

"Oh come on, Sunmi," you cry out. "Please don't lie to me. Master Hyung-Won has done enough of that when it comes to me. He's been forced to play nice for Hyun-Woo's sake but not anymore."

Sunmi sighs as she looks at you. "I wish there was more that I could do for you. I know it's far too early to call what we have a friendship but I was hoping it would lead that way."

You nod as you wipe more tears away. "I was hoping so too."

It hurts. So much of this hurts. The truth will set you free they say but all it does is pain you. How you hadn't noticed how much Hyung-Won despised you is beyond you. Either you were too ignorant or he was a tremendous actor.

Sunmi's hand is gentle as she continues to rub your back. You know she feels bad but you don't fault her whatsoever. There was only so much she could do and knowing she tried is enough for you. Even though she didn't have to because she owed you nothing.

You take the tissue in your hold and wipe your tears. Fresh ones slowly spill out here and there despite you wanting to do anything but cry. You feel like you've done enough of that for a while now but you're in so much pain. Your life has been uprooted in a way that's leaving you feeling dizzy. How could this have happened? Why you? You're back to the same old questions but you can't bring yourself to not ask them when you're constantly being thrown into loops here. It was beginning to be too much. So much so that you've reached a new level of hell. One that's leaving you so confused with so many questions. Why? Just why? Why you?

You sniffle with a sigh. "So I'm leaving then."

Sunmi mimics your sigh with one of her own. "I'm sorry."

You shake your head. "Don't be sorry. It's not your fault."

"I know but I wish I could have been able to do more. Anything - something to make Hyung-Won say otherwise."

"That's the thing though," you start. "You couldn't but it's not your fault. As much as I want to blame Lords Seokjin and Hoseok I can't either because this is on Hyung-Won. He shouldn't have been so easily swayed but he was and that falls on him." Your sobs start to pick up at this point and Sunmi has to calm you down.

You are hugged into her side as she rubs your arm now. You still cry but not as hard as before. You are just in so much pain and it's starting to show as anger. Why did Hyung-Won have to be this way with you? Your blood is simmering into a boil and something akin to hate fills you up. You hated the man's actions and his choices. Hated how he could ruin someone's life over the troubles of another because that's what happened here. This was mostly to do with Hyun-Woo not so much you. This was more about his brother than anything else but it didn't change the fact that you were the one suffering. Hyun-Woo will too but you're the one being forced to leave. To uproot everything and get out.

Everything you've ever known now gone. Sunmi, Asher, Hana, Leanna, Ji-Woon - gone. Your poor Ji-Woon who inadvertently became a father figure to you. You'll never be able to see him again and that thought alone pains you. You struggle to control your breathing just from knowing you'll never see Ji-Woon again. You wonder what he must be thinking. Was he even there in the crowd? You were too preoccupied with Hyung-Won to tell. If he wasn't you're sure the news will get to him fast. It always does.

You look up towards the ceiling with a sigh and will yourself to stop crying. Your head is starting to ache and you could barely deal with it. Sunmi's soft touch slowly comes to a stop as she watches you. You can see her from the corner or your eye. The way she looks at you with nothing but pity. You want to make it stop. Everything. The pity, the sadness, the noubt screams that are still tearing through the air by Hyun-Woo. Gods Hyun-Woo. What about him now? Despite recent events the two of you were always together and now you won't be. You won't see him ever again and that hurts you just as much as knowing you won't be able to see anyone else from this estate. There's no way Hoseok would allow you to. His possessive self can rival that of Hyun-Woo's and now you're all his. You'll be working under him now you're sure. Him and his brothers.

Lord Seokjin's words rattle on in your head. You're coming home with them. How could he do this to you? Lie with his brother so easily. A gossiper he was but a liar you wouldn't have expected because there was no way he would actually believe his brother. There was no way he could believe that you and Hoseok had something. Is that partly your fault? When you went looking for Hoseok that you went as far as to ask Seokjin for his whereabouts and only the gods know what Hoseok has been telling him.

What about Lord Jungkook? He was no where to be found. Sunmi made no mention of him either. You don't suspect he has anything to do with this though. He seemed far too into his own world to worry about others. Let alone a simple girl like yourself.

You look forward again before closing your eyes. They ache from all the crying. You rub the inner corner of one of them before relaxing into Sunmi's hold. A sigh escapes you and it seems like that's all you could do now. Just sigh over and over as you open your eyes to reality. This new arrangement being your new reality and you had to accept it. You didn't want to but you had no say whatsoever.

"What now?"

Sunmi squeezes your arm before speaking. "I don't know. This is the Bangtan clan's last night here. Gods know what's going to happen now but for now you're still home with us."

Home. You have no home here. Not anymore.

"I guess I should start packing, huh?"

Sunmi purses her lips as you go to look at her. It's with a sorry look she gives you that you sigh for the nth time before slowly going to stand.

You're running on autopilot now as you slowly gather your things. You place them on your bed and all that's here to accompany you are memories, silence, and Sunmi. You grab each article of clothing and fold them together. You're packing away your things until a thought strikes you. You stand about awkwardly with a garment in your hands as you look at Sunmi.

"I have nothing to put my things away in."

You never had to move having spent all your years in this estate. How will you take your things with you if you have nothing to carry them in?

Sunmi frowns as she goes to stand. "I should have something. I'll go and get it for you."

"What about you? I don't want to take your stuff and leave you with nothing."

"I can always buy another." She shakes her head with a small smile. "Let me do this for you. It's the least I can do."

Before you can respond she leaves your room in a hurry as she goes to fetch her bags.

You pout a little with a sigh before returning to your things. You wonder if you should pack your uniform. No doubt the Bangtan servants' uniform is different. You'll take it with you for now knowing they'll more than likely have you wear it until they can get new ones fitted for you. The Baek servants' uniform is all you'll have from this household that will serve as a reminder that you once worked here.

You fiddle with the button on your blazer. It has the family's insignia on it. It leaves you feeling forlorn and you fold it quickly before placing it onto your bed. You also grab your shoes. From sneakers to your work shoes and your slippers- you line them up next to your bed in silence. Every single thing of yours, you take them and hold them close before placing them together with the rest of your things until Sunmi comes back with a deep purple luggage set of two. One is relatively bigger than the other and she unzips it for you before lying it on the ground.

"You can place your clothes in this one. Everything else can go in the other."

"Are you sure," you ask hesitantly.

She smiles before nodding. "Of course. I promise you that I'm fine with it."

Your bottom lip quivers. "Thank you."

Her eyes seem to gloss over with her soft smile still in place. "Don't mention it."

She helps slowly put your stuff away. Only leaving a fresh pair of clothes with your sneakers and your shower caddy out for tomorrow. You'll wash up when it's time and dress up once it's time for you to leave. You'll pack away the rest of your things then but for now everything is zipped away in the luggage. Once the two of you are done you sit on your bed and look around your room. Though you didn't decorate it with many things it already feels different to look at. Having once looked lived in it stares back at you bare. It brings a fresh wave of tears to fall from your eyes and you have to take a deep shaky breath to calm yourself.

Sunmi goes to reach for you but she stops short when there's a knock at your door. The two of you look at each other with a questioning look on your faces. Your brows pinch together as you look back towards the door and it's with hesitancy do you tell the person to enter.

Your door slowly opens to reveal the last person you were hoping to see. Hoseok enters your room a small smile on his face. You greet him with a frown on your own and your teeth clenched.

"What do you want?" The words leave you clipped.

If he's put off by your air he doesn't show it - only his smile growing a little larger.

He looks at Sunmi whose frown mirrors yours. He looks at her expectantly and she looks to you before back at him. She bows in his presence before looking back at you again and you can tell she's starting to look worried.

Hoseok clears his throat before speaking. "Can I have a moment of privacy with my partner?" Though it's a question you know he's demanding her to leave.

Sunmi hesitates as she stares at you. You don't want her to leave and you know she doesn't want to but Hoseok isn't giving the two of you the chance to have what you want. So it's with a deep sigh do you nod her way.

"I'll see you later?"

She bites her lip before sighing herself. "I'll be back."

You don't say anything in response. You just watch her gather herself before stepping around Hoseok and out of your room.

The door gently shuts behind her leaving you alone with the vampire. He stands before you with his hands in his pockets. His eyes unwavering as they stare your way.

"I see you've already begun packing."

You don't respond.

He steps closer to you until he's knelt before you. His hands come to gently grab your own and it's with a quickness does he grip them when you try to pull away. His thumbs caress the backside of your hands and you begin to tremble in his hold. Your eyes water and your nostrils flare as the need to cry starts to overtake you once again.

"Don't cry, my love," he starts off gently. "You should be happy. Now we can be together forever."

You gasp before sniffling. Tears begin to escape you as you bite your lip to try and hold yourself together.

He shushes you softly as he leans up a bit to place a kiss against your jawline. You tense before a broken sob leaves you.

"Why are you doing this?"

He hums questioningly.

You slowly turn your head towards him before shaking it no. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

Hoseok's face shows neither anger, sadness, nor happiness but confusion. "Why would I? Why would I not pursue you when I found the love of my life?"

Your lips part in both despair and disgust. "You barely even know me. I am not and will never be the love of your life."

Your bite is hard but he doesn't even flinch from how cold you are to him. Rather his face slowly becomes devoid of all emotion as his grip on your hands tighten by the smallest bit. He licks his lips before sighing as if he's growing tired with you. As if you're a child who is suddenly throwing a tantrum and he has to deal with it.

"My love," he starts. "You may not understand it now but you will as time goes by."

"Stop calling me that," you grit out. "I am not your love."

You wince as his grip tightens even more.

"I'd stop talking if I were you because if not I'll give you a reason to fear me." His words are like needles piercing through your flesh. They hurt tremendously knowing you are in the situation you are in now. You're with a monster and he's willing to show how much more of it he is to get you to yield to him.

Your bottom lip quivers before you begin to cry more. You whimper in his hold as waves upon waves of tears escape you. In response he gives a sharp tsk before getting up off of the floor to sit on the bed next to you. His hands release your own so he can wrap his arms around you instead. You cry into his chest as he brings you closer to him and you sit stock still as he rubs your back gently. He shushes you as you continue to cry.

You hate that your life has come to this. You want to ask like so many other times over and over again why you but you know you'll be left without an answer. There's no reason why it should or shouldn't be you. Your life just is as it is but you didn't have to like it.

Your cries are heart wrenching as he continues to soothe you. You don't want him to but he's all that you have right now to get you to stop. You continue on like this until there's no tears left to cry and all that's left are small whimpers and wet sniffles.

There's a small kiss to the crown of your head as he parts his lips to speak. "No more of that now, okay? You should rest. We'll be leaving around 3 tomorrow so get as much sleep in before then."

You don't respond. Can't respond."

He kisses your head again before pulling back to look at you. "It's going to be a long ride but once we're home you'll see. You'll grow to love it."

You stare blankly at him as he leans in to place a kiss on the corner of your lips. He doesn't push for more than that and it's from there does he stand to leave you alone where you lie on the bed and curl in on yourself.

What has your life come to?

✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞

When you start your day the next day it's slow and daunting. You feel sluggish after having a fitful night of sleep. After Hoseok had left Sunmi came back. Apparently she'd been waiting just outside your room for him to leave. Once he did she came inside and comforted you. She asked what he had said but you couldn't bring yourself to speak. He left you feeling drained and at that point you wanted to sleep. Sunmi was kind enough to stay with you until you finally did sleep. When you awoke in the middle of the night though you felt yourself craving her presence, but you know she needed to sleep herself.

Several times you woke up with tears in your eyes. Life was unfair. That's all you could tell yourself each time. Now you're awake getting yourself ready for the last time in this household. No one says anything to you when you run into them. Either they're afraid to or just don't care that you're leaving. You do manage to find Hana and she tearfully bid you farewell. You remember her hug. It was tight around your middle and it felt like she was doing her best to hold you up as you could barely stand. The weight of your future fell heavy upon your shoulders and it showed. You thought about saying goodbye to the others but you couldn't bare the thought of seeing so many more faces that would look at you with pity. You couldn't handle that. Not after Sunmi did it so much last night and even now as she hugs you goodbye.

Everyone is stood at the entryway giving their goodbyes. She holds you tight as she whispers in your ear.

"I'll find out through Hyung-Won where the Bangtan clan live and I'll write to you. I promise."

You want to believe her but doubt Hyung-Won would be willing to divulge information when it came to you. So you take her promise with a grain of salt. Either way, you thank her as you squeeze her in your arms.

"It was a pleasure being here, Hyung-Won. Again, thank you for having us."

You overhear Lord Seokjin speaking. Him and his brothers stand before Hyung-Won and Hyun-Sik with smiles upon their faces. As if they weren't dragging an unwilling person away.

"You know the pleasure is all ours." Hyung-Won smiles and it makes you want to punch his face as you pull away from Sunmi.

You take note that Hyun-Woo isn't with them and it saddens you. You wonder if his appearance or lack of has anything to do with his choice or not. Lord Jungkook seems to wonder too as he questions where your other Master is.

Hyun-Sik gives an awkward look as Hyung-Won seems to stiffen.

"He uh," Hyun-Sik starts. "He had a rough night."

Hyung-Won clears his throat. "He had to be given some sedatives so it's why he couldn't make it to see you all out."

You frown. They gave him sedatives to prevent him from intervening with this deal. That was the truth and you knew it. How would he feel when he wakes up? You couldn't imagine but right now you could say that you were feeling ill about it all.

You feel a soft touch on your shoulder and you look over to see that it's Ji-Woon. His brows are pinched together as the corners of his lips are dipped down into a frown. At the sight of him your eyes begin to water.

"No, no. None of that now."

You can't help the way you crumble into him as he draws you into his arms. The man has never hugged you before but now he has and his embrace feels warm. His scent is soft and it brings you to calm yourself in his presence. He pats your back a few times as his other hand rests on the back of your head.

"I don't want to go," you whisper.

He sighs as he squeezes you tighter to him. "I know."

He knows but he can't do anything about it. No one can. The two of you are stood here like this for a minute more before you feel him lean towards your ear.

"Please be careful," he says. There's a hint of worry in his tone but when you pull back to look at him his facial expression is reserved.

You swallow deeply before giving him a nod. You'll try your best to even though at this point everything before you is unpredictable. You don't know what to expect behind the Bangtan clan's door. Especially Hoseok's. You can only hope that your life will not be in danger in any sort of way.

Ji-Woon pulls his hands away from you before giving you a firm nod. From there he goes to stand near Hyung-Won who doesn't even dare look your way. Hyun-Sik on the other hand does but it's for a short second as he looks away. Something akin to guilt mars his face and you hope it's real. You hope it is and that it's eating him up inside. All the respect you once held for your Masters is long gone. What fills you up now is disappointment and hate. As for Hyun-Woo, you ache and you wish they would give you a chance to say goodbye to him but you know they won't let you.

You look over to Sunmi and grab her hands just as the servants of the Bangtan clan that were brought with them begin to take everyone's luggage to load up in the limousine. You lick your lips as your heart begins to race.

"Tell Hyun-Woo that I'm sorry I had to leave this way." Your grip tightens as she nods. "That despite it all I will miss him and that I hope we can write to each other."

Sunmi nods again as she pulls her hands away to give you one last hug. You both squeeze each other to the point you nearly wheeze from the pressure but you don't care. You just want the comfort. To prevent yourself from falling into pieces.

"Y/N."

You ignore the voice as you hold Sunmi even tighter. There's silence surrounding you both. It's suffocating. Moreso than how tight the two of you hold each other. It continues on this way until you feel a hand on your shoulder.

"It's time to go, my love."

You nearly whimper and if it weren't because Sunmi pulled away first you would have continued to hold on to her.

You have to fight with yourself to prevent yourself from crying. Your nostrils flare as your throat tightens. Your body threatening to fall apart and cry on the floor. You feel the way Hoseok's hand tries to slip into yours but you jerk away from him before storming off into the hot afternoon air - not sparing a glance towards your former Masters' way. Everything feels so weird but you do your best to hold strong. When you near the limousine the door is opened for you by a servant. You don't think twice as you slip right in leaving everyone behind. It takes Hoseok and his brothers a few more minutes as Seokjin discusses something with Hyung-Won before they all depart and the Bangtan brothers follow in behind you.

The inside of the limousine is black and sleek just like the outside. The seating takes up the length of the car and you choose to sit close towards the front near the partition. You stare at the mini bar before you unseeing as Hoseok scoots in to sit by your side. Though you tense from the closeness you don't react when he grabs your hand to hold in his.

"It's going to take about five hours to get home so you're welcome to sleep."

You say nothing in response to Hoseok's words.

He raises his other hand to push your hair out of your face and you pray he doesn't lean in for a kiss. He doesn't though and it's with that does the limousine begin to move to take you to your new home. Your new hell.

It's silent for a while save for the little things here and there. Like Lords Jungkook and Seokjin pulling out handheld gaming devices to play with each other. At some point they switch out for their phones for entertainment before Seokjin leans into the mini bar for something to drink. He offers everyone something including you but you shake your head no.

At another point Seokjin engages in conversation with Hoseok who is absorbed in his phone. He still pays a moderate amount of attention to his brother so the oldest doesn't complain about it.

You hate how normal everything feels. Everyone around you is acting as if you're not an unwilling participant. As if they hadn't just ruined your life overnight. You wonder how the servants must feel knowing this because surely they aren't as deluded as Hoseok and his brothers are.

You look towards the back where you see another car trailing behind you. They must be in there probably talking about you. Wondering themselves how you managed to get into this mess.

You look back in front of you with a deep sigh and grit your teeth when you feel Hoseok squeeze your hand. His fingers are laced with yours and you have the strong urge to dig your nails into him. It would serve him right after all he's done to you. You twist your neck here and there and revel in the stretch as you loosen up your shoulders as well. You've been so tense sitting here next to him that it's leaving you feeling uncomfortable. He seems to sense this as he looks away from his phone to look at you.

"Do you want to lie down?"

You think about it for a moment. If you say no you'll end up falling asleep sitting up next to him and that alone brings discomfort to you. If you say yes he'll more than likely move out of the way for you. Without a second thought you nod.

He releases your hand to scoot closer to where Jungkook sits and pats the seating between you two. You take the chance to lie down but before anything he tells you to hold on a second and scoots back a little towards you. You look at him confused until you realize what he's doing when he pats his lap. You're sat frozen.

"Come on," he says. "You can lay your head on my lap."

You look between him and his lap and feel yourself grow tense. Your eyes draw over to the other two vampires and note that neither of them are paying attention to you or at least it seems like they aren't. Jungkook too into his phone and Seokjin with his drink in hand while looking out the window. You worry your lip between your teeth and it's becoming apparent to Hoseok how hesitant you're growing.

The longer he waits for you the more you grow nervous because you don't want this. It feels too domestic. Though you've done so much more with him it isn't like you were truly yourself when it happened.

Hoseok purses his lips before sighing. He looks away from you to stare out the window and you think he's going to let it go until you feel a familiar feeling seeping through the nooks and crannies of your mind. It starts off small and it leaves you feeling relaxed. You're growing calm until more of it soothes over your head. What was this? Was he? Is he?

"Hoseok stop." Your voice is small.

He doesn't look at you only forcing more of himself into your mind. You realize then that he's controlling your mind and despite how much you want to fight against it you feel yourself growing more and more powerless against him.

"Rest your head on my lap," he speaks and without question you do as he says.

Just after you do can you feel him slowly recede from your brain. Leaving no trace of his presence whatsoever.

Tears come to rest on your lashes before a few escape you. You feel embarrassed. You feel used and how Seokjin and Jungkook didn't react to it is beyond you. Surely they must know Hoseok was controlling your mind. His words were compelling you to do something you were against and suddenly you give in? They must know but seemingly don't care.

You bite your lip to keep your sobs in. Hoseok notices and he lays his hand onto your head to scratch away at your scalp. You don't know how you're going to last being with him in his estate. You can't imagine your time will go well and it scares you. How can you deal with someone who can shape and mold you to do what he wants whenever he wants? All of it against your will. You tremble a little but it's not from the cool air running through the limousine but the vampire who holds you close to him right now.

You worry your head over it again and again until you fall into a stress induced nap. At least here in your sleep - in your dreams you are alone. Hoseok doesn't go poking and prodding into something he isn't invited to. You don't dream of him or of any of the vampires in your life. Instead you're out in a field of flowers. Their fragrance wafting through the air as they bloom. The sky is colored in hues of purple and orange as the sun peaks through the horizon giving you one last look before it hides. The Summer air is warm and you can hear the bugs chirping into the oncoming night. It's all you have. This is all you have. Solitude and happiness and it's all for you.

Nothing disturbs you nor your sleep for a while. After your dream it's a blur of nightmares. Many of them in relation to Hyun-Woo. You can hear him crying out for you but you can't find him. Everything is pitch black. Each time you think you draw closer to him he's pulled farther away. At some point you find a door and it leads you back out into that field from earlier, but you don't feel calm. You feel anxious. You call out to Hyun-Woo but nothing seems to calm him down. His cries shake you down to your core but you can't make him stop.

Your field of happiness becomes dreary as rain clouds pour over you and you shiver in its wake. You tremble and tremble and run to hide underneath a giant tree in the distance. You can't hear Hyun-Woo anymore over the pouring rain but you can still feel him somewhere out there aching to be heard. Aching for you.

You're huddled under the tree and find a spider web just near your head. You jump when you realize the spider is there staring at its prey that it managed to capture. You watch as it slowly descends and begins to weave a coffin for the bug that tries its hardest to escape. You wish you could save it but it's already too late. You don't know why you hesitated but you did and now the bug is trapped forever.

For some reason it makes you want to cry but you don't. Or maybe you do. You can't tell if the water on your face is from you or the rain droplets that managed to get in between the leaves of the tree you're hiding under. Either way, water drips down your face and it's accompanied by something crawling up your arm. When you look down you see a spider and it forces you to jump. So much so you're jolted awake. You gasp as you awaken and the hand that was softly caressing your arm comes to a stop. You follow the hand up to its owner and see Hoseok staring down at you.

Of course it was Hoseok. You fell asleep on him remember?

He smiles down at you before looking down at his phone.

"You slept for a while. We're almost home. Just a few minutes more."

You don't know how you managed to sleep the whole trip away but you know that you're thristy and a little bit hungry. You rub your stomach as it growls a little and hear as Hoseok chuckles.

"We'll eat once we're settled inside."

You refuse to answer him back now that you know you're a lot closer to his home. The reality of the situation has sunken in and knowing you're no longer where you should be it breaks your heart.

Hoseok is right though. It takes just a few more minutes until you reach the estate. It stands tall in the night air. Stone makes up the building as it does the roundabout driveway you pull up into. The one thing you're glad about is that you no longer have to sit in the limousine. Your body aches and needs to stretch out more than what inside of this car lets you do.

"It's good to be back home." Seokjin hums.

Neither of his brothers say something in response but you suspect that they feel the same way.

The door opens before you four as a servant makes way for you to exit out of the vehicle. The three vampires exit out and leave you behind as you hesitate a moment to come out.

Finally you're here and your nervousness is starting to show. You nibble your bottom lip as your breathing picks up a bit. You are before your new home. Gods you hate having to call this your home but it was the truth and you're expected to deal with it. The urge to cry is nonexistent. After having done so much of it already you feel dried up but that didn't mean you weren't feeling emotional.

Hoseok peeks his head in to the limousine when he realizes you haven't come out yet.

"Everything alright, my love?"

No you want to say out loud. Everything is far from okay, but you can't bring yourself to speak. You give the outside one more once over from inside the car before sighing and making your way out of the vehicle.

Hoseok smiles at you and stretches out his hand for you to take. You take it without question to avoid any problems. You're officially in survival mode and want to avoid any issues that may come your way. You were no longer a resident of the Baek's but Bangtan. You were utterly alone and now was the time to fend for yourself and to play nice when needed.

His fingers lace with yours as he tightens his hold on you.

"Welcome home."

You don't know who says it as your mind is captivated by your surroundings. Flowers along with little lights light up the walk way. The grass on either side is perfectly trimmed. It all leads up to three small stairs and then a platform where the door to the estate awaits you. Though the building is made up of dark gray stone the flowers around you prevent it all from looking so dull. The majority being a shade of purple. Much like the lilacs that sit close on either side of the platform that leads straight to the door.

You huff because you don't want to be in awe of your surroundings. You're still upset about everything that lead up to this. Heartbroken mostly. What you see before you is not a home but a prison. No matter how pretty it looks it is what it is.

"Come on. Let's get you settled in and then we can eat." Hoseok interlocks your fingers as he says this so you can't pull away. "There's much more for you to see but we can deal with that tomorrow after you're well rested."

You follow next to him as one of the servants goes to unlock the door. When it opens you get to see what's inside and it's just as beautiful as the outside. One of the first things you notice are the wide stairs a little ways ahead. They open up wider as they reach the top and the banisters and balusters are designed to look like vines are making their way up and around them. The carpet that runs over them is a dark shade of purple and you note that the curtains to the high windows are too. A chandelier hangs above you and it emits a heavenly glow as you all step into the home and if it weren't because of your situation you would admire it all.

Once you're all inside Jungkook sprints up the steps in a hurry. Seokjin chuckles at the sight of him taking the stairs two at a time before stretching.

"He's happy to be home."

You didn't ask the Lord why Jungkook did what he did and so you ignore his answer. He seems to notice you're cold shoulder and so he chuckles again.

"You'll learn to love it here, dear Y/N. I promise you that."

Hoseok turns to you and smiles at his brother's words. "He's right. You won't need for anything. You'll have it all."

You purse your lips as you look around. You'll have to get used to this layout when it comes time for you to work. You wonder if someone will show you the ropes or if you'll be left to fend for yourself. Looking back at Hoseok you question him when you'll start working.

He gives you an incredulous look before a small smile breaks across his face. "My love you won't be working."

You frown. "I don't understand."

He fully faces you and grabs your other hand in his. "I didn't bring you here to work. I brought you here as my lover who will sit by me. You don't have to worry about working ever again."

Your lips part in small disbelief. He sounded just like Hyun-Woo except you weren't back home but in an unfamiliar setting.

"I don't want people waiting on me." You frown.

He mimics your frown with one of his own before speaking. "I know it'll feel weird at first. You've been working your whole life but not anymore." He smiles.

You want to fight back but you're still in survival mode. You don't want to not work and you don't want to be here period, but you have to play nice if you want to survive. So you give a barely there nod. Your facial reaction one of defeat. He doesn't seem to care though as he goes to lean in to kiss you on the forehead. When he pulls back he looks at your lips.

"How are you feeling?" His words are whispered. "Do you need another fix?"

You almost forgot the reason why you're here. That damned kiss of his and his saliva.

You hum in response. "I'm okay."

"For now at least. We can do something about it later then when we're more relaxed."

You don't say anything. When the two of you are more relaxed? You wish it was not at all and never again.

His fingers soothe over your skin but before he can say or do anything else a voice rings out around you.

"Well look at who we have here."

Hoseok and you turn to the owner of the voice. He's stood at the very top of the stairs and stares down at you with mischief in his eyes. If you thought the three members of Bangtan you've been acquainted with were handsome then the one before you now is even moreso. Like an angel staring down from the heavens he smirks when he catches your eye. His blonde hair is slicked back and he wears a pair of black slacks with an opened silk robe. It reveals the skin that makes up his torso and he shows no shame when it slips down his shoulder by the slightest bit to reveal more of himself.

"Jimin." Hoseok says in greeting.

The vampire named Jimin gives a toothy grin. "I missed having you around, brother." He starts to make his way down the stairs.

"And no hello for me?" Seokjin scoffs though you can tell he's being playful. He says this as he begins to walk away.

"It's always good to see you too." Jimin's smile continues to grow. "I already ran into Jungkook but you," he points to you. "You're new."

Hoseok's grip on your hands tighten. "Jimin," he warns.

Jimin's hands go up in mock surrender. "I'm just curious is all." He comes to stop near you where he stretches out his hand to you in welcome. "If it hasn't already become apparent - I'm Jimin. You are?"

You would shake his hand but Hoseok's grip is strong. He doesn't give you any leeway and so you settle with just your mouth as you speak.

"Y/N," you say.

His eyes brighten up at the sound of your voice. "Pretty name for a pretty girl."

"Watch it."

Jimin's brow perks up in Hoseok's direction. "Someone's a little possessive."

Hoseok huffs in irritation. "Don't you have one of your little playthings to get back to?"

The angelic vampire sighs though it's exaggerated. "I had to return her before anyone noticed her missing. So poor me is feeling a little lonely tonight."

"Not my problem." Hoseok releases your one hand to hold the other and pulls you away from Jimin. "Going to go and get settled in. You do whatever it is you want."

"If you say so, big brother." He chuckles. "I'll see you later, pretty girl."

You wince as Hoseok's grip tightens again but say nothing of it. You wonder what you got yourself into. Now that you're here, reality is settling in and you truly realize your previous life is over and all you have left are new ones where problems are already beginning to arise.

[witchersmistress]

Battered and Broken

Hello my darlings, Happy Friday!!! Monster August and Walter are still in time out for being stubborn and no copperating.. bad bad boys

Trigger Warnings: the biggest one is going to be irritation with me, youll forgive me shorty i promise, blood, violence and masturbation

Word count: 7.6 K

its a long one so buckleup and hang on tight

August’s pov

The world comes back slow, like water gathering momentum. I hear voices and soft squeaks and a steady, monotonous beeping. It’s sickeningly familiar. It crashes in fast, like a wave that’s been building. I sit up, my heartbeat sending a machine into a frenzy. I start yanking at the tubes and wires in my face, my arm, my chest. So many fucking ties binding me to life. The squeaks come faster, and a hoard of nurses rushes in, shoving me back when I fight, pinning me to the bed, banging on the button to give me more meds, to sedate me. I don’t want to go under. There’s something important— And then it’s gone. When I wake again, I’m groggy, but I open my eyes this time. My brother is sitting beside me, scrolling on his phone, that damn sucker tucked into his cheek. “Where is she?” I ask. His head jerks up, his gaze flying to mine and then to the door, where our father is standing, his phone held to his ear. Baron takes his sucker out and puts a finger to his lips, turning his back to him so only I can see. “Who?” he asks aloud. Our father makes a ‘hold on’ gesture to us and then steps into the hall. “What the fuck am I doing here?” I demand. “You tell me,” Baron says. “We dropped you off at home and went out, and the next day when we woke up, we saw all these texts from Father saying you were in the ER with a concussion and a fractured skull. Again.” A little more comes back. Calling Dynamo. Meeting Colin alone at the Slaughter Pen. Throwing just enough punches to make him think I was trying. How right his fists felt connecting to my face, almost orgasmic. “When?” I ask, pushing up. I have to get her. The thought is quick and clear, a blow to the solar plexus. “A couple days ago,” Baron says, shoving the sucker back in his mouth. “Fuck,” I say, yanking the tape off my hand and jerking the IV free. Blood spurts from my vein, and my brain doubles back. Blood on Duke’s mouth. Blood on Baron’s dick. Blood on her thighs. “What are you doing?” Baron demands. “Chill the fuck out. You’re drugged out of your mind right now. Just go back to sleep.”

 “Where’s Harper?”

He glances at the door and lowers his voice. “Where we left her. She’s probably dead by now.” I shake my head. No. She can’t be dead. “I have to get her.” “You wanted her dead,” Baron reminds me. “You were going to kill her. I’m the one who told you not to. Remember?” I don’t want to remember that because then I have to remember what she did, the truth Baron showed me on her phone—hundreds of messages laid out over months, revealing the most personal, most shameful details of my life to a stranger on the internet. No, not a stranger. An enemy. She is an enemy. I don’t know why my body keeps fighting even when I remember that. But I have to get out, have to find her, have to know the truth, the reason. I yank the tube in my nose, but it hits the back of my sinuses and makes my head swim. Baron slams his chest down on mine, smacking a call button. “What the fuck,” he growls. “You’re intubated. You can’t pull that out. You’ll rupture your fucking esophagus or something.” I’m still fighting when the fucking army shows up, the nurses in pale blue scrubs that feature in too many of my nightmares already. I fucking hate hospitals. The drugs that cloud your mind, the helplessness, the way they keep you alive when you don’t want any fucking part of it. It’s all way too familiar by now. The way they think they’re saving you, but they’re destroying you. The way they keep you from saving her after you destroyed her.

Harper's POV

The first few days are hard. I don’t get out of bed except to use the bathroom, which is excruciating. There’s no point in objecting. What I want doesn’t matter. It never did. August kept telling me, but I didn’t understand. Now I do.. He never takes off the mask. He takes pictures of my face and body each day. I don’t protest. What’s the point? I sleep when he’s not asking anything of me. I appreciate, in some detached way, how little he wants, how little he bothers me, he asks for nothing, not even a response. I think if he demanded intimacy of any kind, I’d shatter completely. But he doesn’t. He barely touches me. He wakes me and dresses me and brings me to the table each day. He cooks fancy meals for me, but I don’t taste them. I eat, and when I’m done, he carries me to bed, where I curl up under the blankets. The lulling voices on Local News with Jackie fill my head as they drone on about the cost of gasoline and someone overdosing on a new street drug. I don’t hear anything about a missing girl. I fall asleep praying I won’t wake up this time. It’s around the seventh evening, as I’m slumped at the island eating some fancy herbed potatoes with glazed Brussel sprouts and salmon, when my savior and captor lays down his fork. “I have to go out for a while tomorrow,” he says. I don’t answer. I don’t care where he goes. I sleep most of the day. Sometimes the apartment is quiet, and sometimes I hear him exercising or clicking away at his keyboard in the big, open loft where he has a standing desk against one wall. I haven’t wondered where he goes or what he’s doing when he’s gone. It doesn’t matter. “Do you need to go home and get your clothes or anything?” he asks. I shrug. “I’ll buy you some clothes,” he says decisively. I don’t answer. 

“Where do you live, anyway?”

 “Mill Street.”

 My voice sounds creaky and unused. I clear my throat

 “Right.” He sips his wine and watches me for a minute.

 “I’m glad I wore a condom.” 

I don’t say anything. What is there to say? 

“Do you live alone?”

 “Yes”

He leans his elbows on the island, closing his eyes. “Thank fuck.” He always sits me on his good side, but I know why he hides under the mask. He’s a monster under the mask, disfigured and ugly. I push a bite of salmon into my mouth. It’s flaky and salty, but I don’t taste anything. The corners of my mouth have healed, and the angry red tracks across my cheeks from the ropes are gone when I look in the mirror. My body takes in food and water and heals itself. But whatever’s broken beneath the surface doesn’t change. At least you can tell, looking at him, that he’s suffered. “So will, ” he says after chewing and swallowing slowly. “Will anyone be looking for you?” I shake my head no, the only man i cared about left me for dead “Have you talked to anyone?

 “With what?” “Fuck,” he says, raising his hand like he might run it over his face. When he touches the mask, he drops his hand to his lap. “I’ll get you a phone tomorrow.” I shrug. I decide I’ll call him the Phantom, like the masked man from the opera.

 “Why hasn’t anyone called the cops?” “probably because of my job, i'm always gone for weeks at a time” 

“Oh.” He sits back on the barstool, working his tongue around inside his mouth. “That's slightly terrifying” I don’t argue.

 “I’m going up to water my plants before it gets dark,” he says, rising from the island to take his plate to the sink. “Why don’t you come? Get some air. It’ll be good for you.” He takes my plate and wine glass without asking if I’m done. I sit at the island while he cleans up. Each morning, he dresses like he’s going to an office, but every time I wake, I can hear him moving around his apartment, living. His closet is full of different shades of grey slacks and pressed dress shirts in every color. He rolls his sleeves up tan forearms before rinsing the plates and setting them neatly in the stainless-steel dishwasher. Everything here is immaculately clean and organized. I can’t imagine him getting his hands dirty. He opens a door and pulls a small tool bag from a shelf, then gestures for me to follow. I think about staying, but there’s no reason to disobey. He pulls down a drop ladder, and we climb up into a tiny attic space with exposed insulation and a door.  Opening it, he steps through into the blue evening. The door opens onto a flat roof that’s full of potted plants in different sized containers. Leaving me in the doorway, the Phantom unwinds a hose from a spool, turns on a faucet knob against the wall near the door, and starts spraying water over a rectangular box filled with curly purple and pink flowers. Their perfume lures me out onto the roof. I haven’t breathed outdoor air in a week. It’s moist and heavy, clinging to my bare arms like algae. I can hear traffic in the distance, but from the roof, I see only the same field that I can see from the huge windows in the loft below. The grass is tall and brown from winter, but green pokes up in small patches on the ground. I walk to the edge of the roof. I wonder if he’d stop me if I stepped over. There isn’t even a railing. It would be so easy. It would all be over.

I look back at the man who pulled me from the swamp, who went to such lengths to find me and bring me back. He crouches to poke in a big, round pot. His back is to me as he pulls on a pair of gloves from his bag. I could do it. It would be quick. “I got you an appointment at the women’s clinic on Wednesday,” he says. “To be tested for STDs. You can take my truck and bring it back when you’re done.” I step closer to the edge, until my toes are even with the end of the flat roof. I look down at the parking lot below. Try to remember why being up here is better than down there. I lift one foot, watching it hang suspended in the air, like a diver. He looks up when I don’t answer. His gaze moves to the edge of the roof and back to my face. Our eyes meet, and I know he can tell what I’m about to do. I wait for him to say something, to be angry or afraid. To demand to know what I’m doing, if I want to die. “I’ll bring a chair for you next time,” he says, unfolding slowly, cautiously, from his crouched position next to some sprouting plants. I watch him move, how comfortable he is in his body, how confident. He’s quick but unhurried; tall and slender, painfully elegant. He’s built like a dancer, all slim lines and measured grace. He’s at my side before I know what’s happening. His strong hands are gentle on my upper arms as they pull me back. “Good girl,” he says softly, drawing my shoulder blades flush with his chest. I know he’s thanking me for not jumping, for letting him pull me away, but in truth, I don’t have any more desire to die than I have to live. It’s not worth the effort. “You can come up here with me every day,” he says when I don’t answer. “You could use some sun.” We stare out at the overgrown lot next to his building without speaking. His breath is even, his hands barely holding on. But I can feel his heart thudding rapidly against my back with each heavy beat. I scared him. The thought registers in some distant way. He wants me to live. What I want seems equally irrelevant to both of us. There’s no point in telling him, so I don’t, and he doesn’t ask

August pov

“Where have you been?” I spin toward the voice, my hands fisting, adrenaline pumping. I don’t like being taken by surprise. “Out,” I growl. “What the fuck are you doing sitting in the dark?” Baron switches on the lamp beside the couch. Duke is sprawled across the loveseat, his eyes glassy, a tumbler of whiskey in one hand. “You’re going to get us caught,” Baron says. He picks up a sucker and begins to unwrap it slowly, his elbows resting on his knees and his eyes fixed on me. “This is a small town. It’s not New York. It’s harder to hide a murder when there are only a couple a year.” “We didn’t murder anyone,” I snap, hating that he’s the reason for that. He reminded me that death is too kind. That we don’t kill Darlings. “That’s right,” Duke says. “And I’m not afraid of the cops. They’re not NYPD. They’re hicks. What can they do to us?” “If we don’t get sloppy, nothing,” I say. “No one but the three of us know what happened.” The twins glance at each other, that fucking twin telepathy thing that pisses me the fuck off. “Right?” I grind out. “Right,” Duke says. “We didn’t say anything to anyone at work. We’re not stupid.” No, not stupid. They’ve just never done this shit before. Sometimes I forget how little blood is on their hands. And that’s by design. 

Protect our brothers. King would despise me if he knew what we’d done, what I’d let them become. I should have killed her like I wanted, kept them from her, kept myself from having to admit this truth about them—that I knew what they’d do to Harper when I finally let them have her after six months of denying them. It was both their reward for respecting my previous claim and her punishment for betrayal. But I can’t remember when they became the kind of people whose attention is a punishment. The twins look up to King, though, and I’m supposed to fill his shoes. I think of what he’d say, not because I want to be like him, but because it will comfort them. Duke needs that, at least. I’m not sure Baron has whatever it is that makes a person seek comfort. “We didn’t do anything the Darlings wouldn’t have done to us,” I point out. “We eliminated a threat to the family. That’s all. A man has a right to protect his family.” That’s not what she was, and we all know it, just like we all know Crystal’s blood is on my hands. Harper was no threat to my family. She was a threat to me. I finally, truly understand what they went through with Mabel. When it happened, I saw it from the outside, and I felt for my brothers, but I didn’t get it. I thought they were fuckwits for thinking of her as human at all. I didn’t think I was capable of caring about a Darling. But now I know what the Darling girls do to a person when they set their sights on you, when they decide to play. I know how they lie and twist everything until you start to believe that against every odd, even though you know it’s impossible, someone could give a fuck.

“Who was she talking to, though?” Duke asks. “Because he might figure it out.” “I don’t think we need to worry about him,” Baron says, sliding the sucker into his mouth. “She hadn’t talked to him in weeks. She cut him off. He won’t think anything unless it makes the news.” “So, it’s our job to make sure it doesn’t,” I remind them. Our eyes meet. He gets it. He may not have blood on his hands, but he’s got the stomach for it. “Exactly,” he says. He picks up the bottle of whiskey and pours a finger into a glass, then looks me over, his gaze taking in my wet jeans and shoes. “So, again, where were you? Because we’re being careful. But parking beside the road and walking across a huge-ass rice field into the swamp is going to get us caught a hell of a lot faster than anything we might say in the locker room.” “I was looking for her phone.” “Fuck,” Baron says, leaning back and closing his eyes. “She dropped it when she was fighting us.” I nod. Even a dead phone is easily traceable. It doesn’t matter if it is at the bottom of the swamp and will never work again. They can still track it. If the Darlings go looking for her, they’ll get the law involved. They don’t play by our rules, taking care of their own problems. They have no honor. Only a person without honor could do what she did, exploiting someone’s helplessness for their own gain. For a fucking scholarship of all things. Such a pathetic, pedestrian thing. All along, she was nothing but a gold digger. We thought she didn’t know she was Darling, but she must have known. Even if she didn’t, and she really didn’t know who she was talking to, he must have known. And if he gets the cops involved, and they suspect murder, they’ll get the FBI involved. And the FBI will find her phone.

 So we have to make sure no one else looks for her. “You didn’t find her phone?” Duke asks. “No,” I say, scowling at his drunk ass. “I didn’t find it.” “We should tell Father,” Baron says. “He’ll know what to do.” “No,” I say, holding up a hand. “If we need his help, we’ll tell him then.” “Okay,” Baron says, looking skeptical. “So, what now?” “Where’d you put her clothes?” “Shit,” Duke says. “They’re in my bag.” “That’s the kind of sloppy shit we can’t do,” I say. That, and letting her drop her phone in the swamp. If they find that, they’ll search the swamp, and they’ll find her. At least… I think they will. They’ll have a whole team, dogs and infrared gear and shit that I don’t have. I’ve been in that swamp exactly once before today, and it was night by the time we left, and I was… Not entirely present. I barely remember walking into the swamp. I was in survival mode, like those months after Crystal died that I barely remember, and the ones before that I don’t remember at all. I let the monster take care of me, take care of what needed to be done, of what I couldn’t. I was weak, and he was strong. Maybe if I put him in control, he can find her. I’ll have to go back again. But I have a good reason. I looked today, my first day home from the hospital, searching until after dark, but with only my phone’s flashlight and a vague memory of being there before, I couldn’t find where we’d left her. I couldn’t find her.

“What are you thinking?” Baron asks, sitting up straight and setting his whiskey on the coffee table. “Burn her clothes?” “Yes,” I say, stepping into the living room. “She was a Darling. We need to act like it.” I’ll burn everything that ever reminded me of her, all the random shit she left at my house, my notebooks where I wrote poems about her like some pathetic lovesick dog chasing after a bitch in heat. We should burn the whole fucking town to the ground with all the Darlings in it. “She’s one of the disowned Darlings’ kids,” Duke says. “They don’t care about her.” Duke isn’t good with the aftermath, the cleanup, the details. He’s there for the fun and games, but he forgets that after the games, it’s real. “One of them cared enough to find her,” I say. “Even if the grandfather cut them off, one of them reached out to her.” “Or he did,” Duke says. “Well, she’s an adult.” Baron says, trading his sucker for the whiskey. “And her dad doesn't give a shit anyway. Right?” “We need to act like everything’s normal,” I say. For a minute, we’re frozen in confusion. None of us have the slightest idea how to be normal. “No skipping work, though. Now that August’s back, we have to act like it was just about him.” Irritation flares in me, but he’s right. I can’t be the one to go off the deep end over this. Not when it means the twins will go down with me. I should have fucking left them out of it. What was I thinking? I could have done it myself, slit her throat and dropped her in the river. But I didn’t want her in the same river where Crystal drowned. That water is sacred. She deserved swamp water. “I’ll talk to her dad.” “What?” Duke asks, sitting up straight. “Are you fucking crazy?” “No,” Baron says, holding up a hand, his eyes on me. “He’s right. That’s what a normal person would do if his ex disappeared from work. Bring back her shit, ask her dad if she’s okay. Act like you think she went back to Faulkner High.” “And in the process, see what he knows,” I say. And see if Harper’s there. I don’t add that part aloud. I don’t want my brothers to worry. We left her tied to a tree somewhere in that snake-infested swamp. I barely made it out without being bitten by one of the vipers. She couldn’t have gotten away from the ropes, let alone gotten past the snakes and hiked twenty miles back to town without shoes or clothes. Could she? If there’s one person on earth who’s tough and resourceful enough to do that after what we did to her, it’s Harper. And she’ll be out for revenge. So, if she’s alive, why hasn’t she called the cops? And if she’s dead, why can’t I find her body?

[crystalsnow95z]

Drabble written within two hours just because inspiration struck. Posting as is because I'm so lazy.

Sickie; Yoongi with bad cold.

Caretaker: mostly Jin

Why do they have to be so loud? Yoongi puts in his earpieces to try to muffle the sound of Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook warming up their voices. They were singing nursery songs, but singing it at a higher octave with each line, seeing who could hit the highest note.

He usually isn't bothered by their playful nature, but even after taking medicine, he still felt pressure behind his eyes, the high pitch sounds making it worse. A tickle in his throat made him cough again, trying to muffle it. Maybe the medicine just wore off..

"Are you sure you're feeling up to this Yoongi?" Jin asks voice thick with worry. "You've been coughing all morning.." He swore that Yoongi had been running a fever when he woke him up, but when staff checked when they got to the venue, he was only a fee degrees warmer than usual.

"I can do it, it's been three years since we've been here, and I don't know when we can come back. It's just my voice. It's fine Hyungie.." Yoongi coughs into his arm, wincing at the pain. "I'll just leave the shouting to the others.."

"It's time for the sound check." A staff member tells them, giving Yoongi his escape from his only hyung.

"Okay, we're coming, thank you.." Namjoon answers with a bow. "If you change your mind no one will blame you okay? Sometimes you're just unlucky.."

"I'll ask staff for some medicine after the sound check. I'll be okay." Maybe if I say it enough, it'll be true.. Yoongi goes with the others onto the stage, staying close to Hoseok, leaning against him. Hoseok's takes Yoongi's hand, giving it a squeeze. "Your energy being low before the concert even started isn't a good sign." J-hope frets over him, pushing a lock of hair behind his ear.

"The crowd will give me energy. I'll be.. Heh'ehhitchew..!" A sneeze cuts him off, wiping his nose with his sleeve, sighing with irritation.

"Hyung just admit it. This isn't just a little cold.." Hoseok finds a tissue. "If you're going to go at least try to clear your nose.."

"I'll be fine." Yoongi tries to feign confidence, clearing his throat to try to stop from coughing. Yesterday, it was an annoying tickle, but today, he was completely congested, his sinuses leaving pain behind his eyes. He turns his head away from Hoseok blowing the mucus out the best he can. "Gross.." he murmurs, throwing it into the waste bin.

"Take it easy, okay?"Hoseok squeezes his hand, feeling a little more at ease when Yoongi's breathing comes softer than before. "Please don't push yourself, please?"

"Hey hey.." Namjoon's voice through his mic makes the crowd roar with excitement, making Yoongi bite his lip as the pain flares up, pinching the bridge of his nose. I can do this. It's fine..

Everyone had started playfully talking to army, but when Yoongi goes to take his turn, instead of his voice coming out, he nearly coughs into the mic, quickly pulling the mic away and coughing into his fist.

"Min Yoongi. Min Yoongi.." The crowd screams his name, giving him the strength he needs. They're so excited to see me. I have to push through.

"Army are you ready for tonight?" Yoongi usually yells the words, but couldn't get his voice above his normal speaking voice. "Make some noise!"

The screams sounded louder to Yoongi than it did any of the previous shows they've done that month, but he couldn't tell if it was from his aching head or if army were actually louder.

The crowd chanted and screamed as the other members walked around the stage, making hearts and blowing kisses, showering army with affection as they sang their parts.

Yoongi pushes through his part, ignoring the urge to cough and pressing his fingers on his chest as he finishes, going to the edge of the stage for water. I sounded so bad..My voice cracked at the end.. He smiled when he made eye contact with someone trying to push away his negative thoughts, regretting it when they let out a shrill scream.

He goes back by the other members, feeling a wave of nausea from the pain, swaying into someone. Yoongi felt someone's foot under his, apologizing when he saw Taehyung next to him, looking at him with a worried expression. He's not doing well..I gotta do something.. he's swaying.."Hyungie.."

Yoongi's eyes were dulling, and tears were forming. His skin glowed with sweat, and Taehyung could see his hand trembling.

"Hyung lean on me okay?" Taehyung orders gently, removing one of Yoongi's earpieces to speak with him, unsure if he even understood him.

My vision..everything's fading.. I'm gonna faint.. I'm so dizzy.. Yoongi involuntarily let's out a soft moan, leaning into Taehyung just to stay on his feet. Despite Taehyung being right behind him his voice sounds far away, as if he were listening underwater.

Taehyung keeps his hands firmly on Yoongi as he quickly moves to hug him from behind, holding Yoongi by the waist as he sings his part, singing a half second behind the music. Army squeal loudly to see Taehyung's sudden display of affection of the Daegu rapper, unaware it wasn't just love that made Taehyung hold him so tightly.

Yoongi's knees were threatening to buckle from underneath him, and Taehyung holding him was the only thing that was keeping him on his feet. Taehyung hides this fact by making it look like he's just playing,lightly swinging Yoongi to the beat of the music,but the other members look over with concern when they see Yoongi not putting up any fight.

Yoongi is completely out of it for another minute before recovering, panicked for a moment when he momentarily forgot where he was. Pulling away from Taehyung to stand on his own, he takes a few deep breaths to clear his head.

"I'm okay.." Yoongi whispers to Taehyung, just in time for Jimin to finish the last verse of the song, just barely recovering on time. My visions still fuzzy..but I can't let the crowd know.. Taehyung lets go of his waist but grabs Yoongi's hand, the seven boys meeting up center stage to say a quick 'see you later' and return to back stage. Taehyung keeps his arm around Yoongi as they bow, not risking him falling forward, leading him down the steps.

"Yoongi-hyung fainted on stage." Taehyung blurts to the other members as soon as they enter the back room.

"Seriously?" Hoseok's eyes widen, putting his hand on Yoongi's back. "Hyung you can't do this if you're already that weak..

"What? That's why you were holding him?" Jungkook questions, reaching to touch Yoongi's cheek.

"You should sit down." Jin orders softly.

"We need to get a doctor." Namjoon tries to control the situation. "Give him some space guys.."

The members all started talking at once, making Yoongi's head spin once more. He steps back, trying to escape all the grasping hands and worried team. Please be quiet..

"I was just dizzy for a few seconds, that's all. It's no big deal. He's just overreacting." Yoongi tried to calm their worries, giving a glare at the younger Daegu boy for telling them this. It took every ounce of willpower he had to regain consciousness, but he didn't want the others to know.

"I'm just worried about you.."Taehyung squeezes Yoongi's hand, but Yoongi pulls his away from him, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Well, worry about yourself. You already messed up during sound check."Yoongi didn't want Taehyung or the others making mistakes, but his voice came out more aggressive than he intended instantly, regretting his harsh tone when he met Taehyung's misty eyes.

"I'm just worried about you.." Taehyung blinks quickly to fight off the tears, pointing his nose upwards.

Jin notices it too, wrapping his arm around the vocalist. "Yoongi-yah, I know how frustrating it can be to not be in good condition before a show, but you don't have to take it out on us. Apologize to Taehyung.."

"I'm sorry, Taehyung-ah.." Yoongi says sincerely, placing his hand on his shoulder. He usually didn't lose his patience so easily, especially not with the youngest of members. "I should've said that.. I just have a headache and it's making me irritable.."

"It's okay.."Taehyung hugs Yoongi. "I know i messed up my timing, but i couldn't let you fall in front of our fans."

"I know, and I'm grateful.. I'm just pissed at the situation not you..." Yoongi pushes Taehyung away, coughing into his elbow.

Their's short embrace was enough to get the others set back on track with the core problem. Could Yoongi perform?

"Yoongi-hyung, you've been coughing all day and hardly ate the past few days.." J-hope frets over Yoongi, helping staff dry the sweat off his face. "And you look pretty pale. Are you sure you can do this?"

"I just need to take some medicine, I already talked to staff this morning, and it's just a cold. I'll be fine." Yoongi tries to calm Hoseok, trying to not get frustrated with Hoseok too. It's the same conversation i had with Hyung earlier... "Don't worry about me, just focus on getting ready for the show. I'll take it easy. Okay?"

"Alright, just.. know your limits, okay?"Hoseok hugs Yoongi before going to get changed for the concert. He's so stubborn, but there's nothing I can do..

Yoongi changes into his set clothes, not realizing how much he was shaking until he tried to put his earrings in, almost stabbing his earlobe.

"Let hyung do it." Yoongi jumped in surprise when he heard Jin's voice next to him, taking the hoop from his unsteady hand and putting it in place, doing the same for the other side. "I brought you some medicine and some vitamins." Jin tells yoongi while opening the bottles, putting a mixture of tablets into his palm. "These should help keep your strength up and help with that migraine.."

"Thanks, hyung.."Yoongi sniffles then sighs. "I hope i can at least get better by day three..my voice sounds so congested.."Yoongi takes the cocktail of tablets with a gulp of water. "Heh'ehhitchaaugh.." Yoongi sneezes with an annoyed whine at the end.

"If you need to stop at any point during the show, you need to tell us, okay? Your health comes first above anything else. If you don't feel like you can do it, we can work around it." Jin says, sounding like a concerned parent, rubbing his thumbs gently over Yoongi's temples. The soft motion ebbs some of the pain away.

"If it gets to that point, I'll let you know..thanks hyung.." Yoongi coughs into his fist, Jin rubbing his back. He can feel the eyes of the other members looking at him, sighing. "I hate this.."

"I know yoon, but just remember no one blames you. Rest up until it's time to go. Hyung will wake you up in time to warm up." Jin says, taking his jacket and balling it up on the floor as a pillow. Yoongi obeys, his body instantly growing heavier as soon as he lays down.

"I love you yoongi." Jin gives him a quick kiss on the top of his head, brow furrowing with worry when he notices Yoongi's eyes already closed. He's exhausted..

"You too.." He murmurs his reply, already half asleep.

"Yoongi really isn't well.." Yoongi hears Namjoon whispering, but he felt too groggy to open his eyes. "He's got a fever and his coughing hasn't let up much."

A fever? No. No.. Sh*t.. I gotta pull myself together.. Yoongi sits up slowly, Namjoon's jacket falling off him. When did he cover me up? How long have I been asleep?

"Namjoon-ah, don't worry about it, I'm feeling better now.." Yoongi wasn't lying, but it wasn't by much. His headache dulled down, and it didn't hurt as much to talk, but his body still ached all over, and he felt freezing despite the fact it was so hot backstage. I have to perform..

"You don't look like you're feeling better, but you know your limits more than I do, just pace yourself okay? I don't want you to pass out again, hyung." Namjoon says, ignoring his gut feeling to tell him to stay back. He knew how much this meant to Yoongi all too well.

"I won't. I can do this.." Yoongi tells Namjoon, but it was more for himself, he holds out his hand for Namjoon to pull him to his feet.

"Staff called five minutes, we were just coming to wake you. We wanted to let you rest as long as you could." Jin gives Yoongi a cup of green tea with lemon. "Maybe this will help your voice a bit.."

Yoongi sips it,wincing when he swallows. Its gotten worse..it didn't hurt to drink before..The liquid did nothing to soothe his swollen throat, but he thanked Jin nonetheless.

The members gathered together, chanting to psych themselves up, Yoongi biting his lip to avoid coughing, adding his two fingers to the pile but not shouting with the others.

The seven boys go to the steps leading to the stage, yoongi staying close to his only hyung.

"My poor Yoongi.." Jin squeezes his shoulder. "Please take it easy, okay?"

Yoongi nods, soaking in the cheers of the crowd when they enter the stage, quickly getting into position, starting with black swan. He closes his eyes, letting his body go through the motions from muscle memory when he wasn't rapping, the synergy of the crowd giving him the strength he needed. His voice was drowned out over the background music, army having to be quiet to hear him.

He was okay for the first two songs, but when he was on the sidelines for mic drop, he couldn't suppress his cough anymore. He felt Namjoon take his mic from his hand when he doubled over so his coughing wasn't caught on the mic.

No. It can't come back yet.. it hasn't even been that long..His cough made the pulsating headache return, him rubbing at his temples for the few seconds he had to spare before his part came brushing his back against Hoseok when they switched who was rapping, his voice came out with a cough for the first few words but quickly recovered.

Namjoon was ready to back him up, holding his mic close to his mouth, but Yoongi already had several voices singing with him.

Army had joined him, Yoongi taking out one of his earpieces to hear them, letting them sing the last line, walking to get his tea to dry to soothe his throat.

"You did well."

"You got this!"

"We love you min Yoongi."

"It's okay!"

Army shout encouraging words in several languages, but instead of making him feel better, he felt the pressure to try harder. These army traveled from all over the world.. i have to try harder.. Yoongi takes a deep breath, putting his cup down and running to his spot.

After mic drop, they did their greeting, bowing to army. "Hello, we are BTS!" The members go down the line with individual introductions. We aren't even halfway over yet..and there's the rap medley..

Yoongi sits on the stage, closing his eyes. The stress only made him feel worse. He was freezing, though he was sweating under the stage lights. Nausea washed over him, wrapping his arm around his stomach.

Jin takes a seat behind him, pulling him to lean into him. "You need to calm down, Yoon.." Jin whispers. "If you keep worrying like this, I'll have to pull you. You're doing fine. Army understands. You have to understand, too. They don't care about just the music. They care about you."

Yoongi takes a few deep breaths to calm himself. Only just now hearing army never stopped chanting for him.

"Army doesn't want you worrying about being good. They just want you to be happy and healthy." Jimin tells Yoongi, his words making army scream with agreement.

"Army.." Yoongi talks into his mic, the crowd falling silent. "I have to admit it, i can't give you my all, but I'll give what I can, but I'll need you to help me"

[moonchildreads]

small town

Chapter 12 - Fortress Around Your Heart

IN THIS CHAPTER: A mysterious card, allergy pills, and Wayne conspires against his nephew [7.1k]

WARNINGS: eddie being a lil sick (nothing serious), vague mentions of financial hardship

A/N: a huge shout out and thank you to two of my fairy godmothers and biggest cheerleaders, my beloved @justahappycloud and my loveliest @gutterratt for vibechecking wayne's dialogue in this chapter. it takes a village to build a small town! i love you both, deeply, madly, truly.

masterlist - prev - next | playlist

And if I built this fortress around your heart Encircled you in trenches and barbed wire Then let me build a bridge

Tuesday, May 6th - 1986

Five days. Five days without a single drop of rain. Not a light shower, not a thunderstorm, not a drizzle in sight, and Dottie felt like she was losing her goddamned mind. Before moving to Hawkins, she was sure she dreaded rainy days; New York smelled like a sewer, the subway was muggy as hell, and she was perpetually tired of people bumping their umbrellas into her head when she walked home from school. But rainy days in Indiana? Absolute bliss. She’d gotten so used to the fresh smell of wet soil, to sitting on her window seat with a book, a moody record playing in the background, thunder rumbling and lulling her to sleep. Rainy days meant driving home with Eddie and Gareth, huddling under tin roofs with Jeff for warmth while Donny smoked a cig, sharing a hand-knitted blanket with her Dad while they consumed anything and everything that was on TV after dinner. Rain was comforting and homey, and as the weather continued to get warmer and humidity levels kept climbing, she couldn’t wait until that night’s forecasted thunderstorm to hit the small town she had grown to love in only a couple of months. Eddie, on the other hand, was once more contemplating on moving to the middle of the desert and never having to see a raindrop again in his life.

“Man, you look like shit,” Gareth said, sliding into his usual seat at their lunch table.

“I’ve been telling him to go to the nurse since second period but you know how he is,” Donny shook his head disapprovingly.

“I don’t need to go to the nurse,” Eddie told him, accepting the sandwich Donny was offering so Eddie would share his chocolate covered peanuts with him in return. “It’s just allergies.”

“I think I have allergy meds in my locker if you want some,” Dottie said.

“Why do you always have pills on you? Are you a fuckin’ pharmacist or what?” Gareth teased her.

“Okay, asshole, next time all those weird fumes in the lab give you a headache, get your own painkillers,” she said, pushing his lunch tray away from him and down the table, just barely out of his reach.

“D’you really think they’ll help? Your meds?” Eddie asked, finally caving in, eyes squinting under the fluorescent cafeteria lights.

“I mean, I’m not a doctor, but it’s worth a try. They make you really sleepy though, so maybe take them after school?”

“Okay,” he rubbed his eyes with two fists. “I’ll take them when we get home.”

During the past couple of years, Eddie had developed this random allergy that seemed to get progressively worse whenever the weather changed. As the air was becoming more and more oppressive with the kind of humidity one forgets could be experienced after the colder months, Eddie was more often than not showing up to school with red eyes that had nothing to do with the weed he liked to indulge in after hours. Eating his sandwich and peanuts without really tasting anything because of how clogged his sinuses were, he considered stealing a wad of toilet paper to survive his upcoming Biology lesson after depleting Dottie’s generous stash of tissues during their back-to-back shared periods before lunch. The skin on the sides of his nose was becoming raw and red from blowing it so many times, and his head felt like it was stuck inside a bucket, his ears sensitive to loud noises and his throat scratchy.

By the time the final bell had rung and they were driving towards his trailer, Dottie theorized he might have developed a cold last Saturday morning when his water heater had died on him mid shower. Thankfully, Wayne was nothing if not resourceful and had gotten it up and running again that same day, but if Eddie had really gotten sick from washing himself with freezing water, there was little anyone could do except wait for the illness to pass on its own.

“Boy, you look like shit,” Wayne said from his armchair, watching his nephew shrug off his coat as he stepped into the trailer.

“Thanks, Wayne, hadn’t noticed,” Eddie replied dryly.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” Dottie started guiding him towards his room.

“No! No, you can’t go in there,” he immediately blocked her path, arms braced on the walls of the small hallway to stop her from marching on.

“Ed, I don’t care if it’s mes-”

“It’s not- I mean, it is a mess but-” he blubbered, watching her cross her arms and cock her hip to the side in defiance. “Nuh-uh, nope, can’t have you seeing that shit right now. No way.”

“Eddie.”

“You can’t argue with a sick man, princess, that’s illegal.”

“God, you’re-,” she threw her hands in the air, exasperated. “Fine, have it your way. Go sit on the couch.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he conceded, sinking into the cushions next to Wayne who was very amused by the entire situation but had the decency to act like he wasn’t paying attention. “Where do you keep your stash?”

“There’s a hidden pocket at the back, look for small round yellow pills.”

Dottie busied herself rinsing a mug in the kitchen sink and filling it up with water from a pitcher that was in the fridge while he snooped around her belongings, her brown corduroy backpack pulled into his lap. He was taking a couple of notebooks out to get better access to the small concealed zipper sewn onto the back panel when a baby pink envelope fell from one of them, landing next to his ratty sneakers. Always a curious one, Eddie picked it up, instantly noticed red hearts on the glossy paper inside and hurried to put it back where it had fallen from before she could catch him being nosy.

Trying to focus back on his initial task, he began rifling through the contents of the pocket, pulling out of a waterproof pouch that held various types of pills and tiny plastic bottles. He would have asked what they were for, always eager to know more about Dottie, but his brain was stuck in a constant loop of questions. Was that a love letter? Does she know who it’s from? There weren’t any names on it, is it a secret admirer situation? Why wouldn’t she tell me? Is it-

“Here you go,” she kneeled on the carpet next to his feet, pushing the plastic McDonald’s mug into his line of sight. “Did you find them?”

“Uh- yeah, these ones?” he asked, shaking a blister with pills that matched the description she’d given, making them rattle.

“What’s that?” Wayne asked, pretending like he hadn’t noticed his nephew having a mild stroke in front of his very eyes by the mere sight of an envelope.

“My allergy meds,” Dottie explained, resting an arm on Eddie’s knees. “I get really sniffly when seasons start changing so I thought maybe they’d help with Eddie’s too. I take those once a day when it starts acting up, and then I also have a nasal spray. I used to have two different ones, but I ran out of the prescribed one and haven’t replaced it yet.”

“You take a lot of pills, kid?” the older man said, curious.

“I try not to ‘cause I’ve heard it’s bad, like the bugs build resistance to the drugs or something? But I was a babysitter so I got used to carrying stuff around. Can’t really look after a screaming toddler if I’ve got a sudden headache, you know?” she explained before turning to look up at her friend. “You can keep those if you want, I’ve got a ton at home. They’re cheaper than a doctor’s appointment.”

“Thanks,” he said, staring at the blister. There were only three pills missing, and one of them was currently inside his body. “D’you wanna get started on homework?”

“We can take a day off if you’re not feeling well.”

“No, no, I’m okay. I can work on my drawings, I guess? Something that doesn’t require a lot of thinking would be great right now.”

“Okay, but you’re definitely gonna need a nap in about an hour,” she patted his knee and got up from the floor, moving to sit next to him before busying herself with her own work.

“I’m gonna go make some soup,” Wayne announced, shuffling into the kitchen before muttering to himself. “See if that saves us a visit to the doctor’s office.”

Wayne Munson was a simple man with simple needs. He considered himself lucky in the sense that he’d always had a roof over his head, and he’d always been able to provide for those he loved, fancy cooking be damned. He didn’t need three course meals or top of the line equipment to make his boy feel better as long as he knew how to make a good chicken rice soup, just like the one his mother used to make. They might not have lived in a real house with a big backyard and a bedroom for both, but as long as his meals were warm, his beers were cold and Eddie was smiling, it was enough for him.

He’d always thought of his nephew as a happy kid, one that chose to see the best in everything even when life had dealt him shitty card after shitty card, but Wayne had to admit that in the twelve years he’d been responsible for Eddie, he had never seen him act the way he did when Dottie was around. The youngest Munson was a ball of energy, always gesticulating wildly, not knowing how to control his own voice whenever he got going, leg perpetually bouncing when he was quiet. It was strange to see how subdued he was whenever his newest friend was around, and even more so considering she could also be loud and animated when given the opportunity. There was a gentle quality to their interactions, as if they were both toeing an invisible line that separated them, wishing the other one would cross it first but being afraid of overstepping.

As the old man leaned to get a couple of carrots that desperately needed to be eaten from the bottom of the fridge, he noticed once again the water pitcher on the door. He had never once seen Eddie choose water over any kind of cheap soda he could get his hands on, and yet this ancient plastic pitcher that hadn’t been used in years had somehow found its way into their fridge when Dottie started hanging out at the trailer. Wayne had only known the girl for a few short days, but felt that their shared time had already been enough to form a strong opinion. He liked Dottie. He liked how she was simultaneously polite but quick to make herself at home, how she was always helping around just because she wanted to and not because anyone asked her to, how everything she did came with a heap of kindness. He liked how she kept up with Eddie’s humor, how they calmed each other down, how she made him smile and want to try harder. And perhaps, above all, he liked how easily she dissipated Eddie’s fears of not being enough. Wayne loved the boys in the Hellfire Club, he really did, but he knew that his nephew compared himself to them, with their loving families, their houses in residential neighborhoods, their homemade lunches that did not consist of leftovers or whatever snack was left in the pantry.

The eldest Munson wasn’t one to pry, but he knew something was different with Dottie when she showed up on Monday with a handful of coupons from that day’s newspaper. “Ed said he likes mushrooms and my Dad can’t eat them without getting sick so I brought you these. I hate when coupons go to waste. Do you like mushroom soup, Mr. Wayne?” she had asked. It might have been an assessment made with personal bias, but Wayne was certain that no kid who didn’t go through any financial turmoil in their lives could be so into couponing that they hated not using them before their expiration date.

Around 45 minutes after Eddie took his medicine, his speech started to slur and his eyes kept trying to close themselves no matter how hard he fought to keep them open.

“Time for a nap, sleepy head,” Dottie pushed his thigh with her sock-clad foot.

“M’fine, don’t worry ‘bout it,” he said, and immediately yawned.

“You were saying?”

“Ugh, fine. Jus’ a short nap, gotta get you home,” he muttered, tucking himself into the couch cushions.

“Ed, you need to rest if you want to get better,” she insisted, pulling him onto his feet with her hands on his wrists. “That means sleeping in your bed, not on the couch.”

“Room’s dirty,” he said, standing on wobbly feet. “Don’ wan’ you to look.”

“Okay, I won’t look. I swear.”

Satisfied with a promise that she obviously did not intend to keep, Eddie let her lead him towards his room at the other end of the trailer. Nothing could have prepared her for what she saw when she opened the door. It was like his closet had exploded onto the floor, clothes strewn everywhere, no indication as to which ones were clean and which ones were not. His bed was unmade and his bedsheets were rumpled into a ball in the middle of the mattress, an overflowing ashtray sat on his bedside table and a thin sheen of dust covered the objects he clearly did not use very often. Dottie helped him shrug his hoodie off and helped him get comfortable under his blankets, already making a list of things she could straighten up without waking him up once he was safely on his way to DreamLand. He turned to his side and coughed a few times.

“I’ll get you some water,” she said, but before she could stand, he shot out a hand to grab her wrist.

“No, stay,” he muttered. Dottie was very familiar with the particular kind of drowsy associated with her allergy meds and knew that he was somewhere between awake and completely unconscious. He was gonna be out like a light in a few if she had her math right. “M’legs feel weird.”

“They feel heavy?” he nodded. “Go to sleep, silly. You’re gonna feel better when you wake up.”

“Okay,” was the last thing he said before his eyes finally closed and his breathing evened out.

Dottie knew it wasn’t right, but she couldn’t help but stare at him for a few moments as he slept. He looked so peaceful, his long eyelashes almost touching the top of his cheeks, soft freckles decorating his skin. He didn’t move when she stood up, didn’t even flinch when she tucked his hair behind his ear and pulled the covers up higher. Surveying the room around her, she spotted a white plastic bag underneath his desk and quickly retrieved it, starting to clean up some of his mess. First thing to go into the bag were the cigarette butts; then the few cans lying around, the crumpled snack wrappings and pencil shavings on his desk. She was in the middle of picking up a denim jacket strewn on his desk while suppressing a snort at the busted handcuffs hanging from the wall - and oh, did she want to ask about them some time -  when she noticed a black shadow hovering above her head.

“Oh, shit,” she whispered to herself, recognizing instantly what it was.

In the corner of Eddie’s room, displayed like a piece of art, was the most likely cause of his long-lived allergies: black mold. Dottie could have kicked herself at not paying attention when she walked in; the stain was so big she wondered how she had missed it in the first place. Immediately remembering her Uncle Johnny’s retelling of his encounter with black mold behind an old broken washing machine back in ‘69, she looked back at Eddie wondering if he would listen if she told him to get rid of it. Judging by the state of his bedroom, he wouldn’t, so she steeled herself for what was possibly gonna be a very awkward conversation and hoped to the stars she’d come out on the other side as a victor.

“Mr. Wayne?” she asked, stepping back into the main area of the trailer. “I- I’m sorry, I don’t want to be disrespectful but did you know there’s mold in Eddie’s bedroom?”

“Yeah,” he scratched his head, lowering the fire on the stove to let the soup simmer. “Been tellin’ Ed he should clean that up but you know how he is. I think the only reason he listened when I told him to patch up the roof was so it wouldn’t rain on that fancy guitar of his.”

“Sounds like Eddie,” she smiled. “In any case, if he’s not gonna do it himself, would you be okay with me cleaning it up for him? I think that’s what’s causing his allergies and he could get very sick if he keeps breathing that stuff in.”

“Don’t know what my nephew has told you but you are a guest here, not a maid,” Wayne said, pointing with his head at the trash bag in her hand.

“I’m a friend,” she said, like it was the simplest fact known to man. “This is what friends do for each other. They help out, even if they are as stubborn as Eddie. Especially when they are as stubborn as Eddie.”

“Don’t I know that,” he snorted, his features softening. “He can be hard to be around sometimes, but he’s got a good heart.”

“Yeah, he does. I can see where he gets it from.”

Wayne liked to think of himself as a man of few but intentional words. As he looked at the young girl in front of him, he realized that they both knew exactly what was happening in this conversation and they were both on the same page. Eddie didn’t often ask for help; in fact, help was almost always simply thrust upon him disguised as a nonchalant act or a trade, and the eldest Munson knew that this request was as much for his nephew as it was for Dottie. He stirred the soup for a few seconds, and finally set down his wooden spoon.

“Y’know he’s gonna get mad when he sees what you did.”

“I’d rather deal with an angry Ed than have him start coughing up blood,” Dottie said. “But I won’t do it if it bothers you. This is your home and I’m aware I’m overstepping just by asking about it.”

“Well, it’s like you said, right? Friends help out,” he shrugged, the corner of his mouth lifting into half a smile. “So what do you need?”

“I just need him out of the trailer for an hour. He’s not gonna let me do it otherwise, he didn’t even want me in there in the first place.”

“I’ll get him out of your hair, don’t worry ‘bout it. Need a ride home?”

“Oh, no, thank you. You’re busy with dinner, I can ask my Dad to pick me up if you let me borrow your phone for a second.”

“All yours, kid,” he pointed behind her to where the phone was hanging from and went back to his cooking.

Fifteen minutes later, Wayne was in the middle of explaining his soup recipe to Dottie when a car horn interrupted their talk. The older man walked her outside and waved at James, who waved back at him from the front seat of his car.

“Tell Ed I said bye!” she said, skipping down the front steps to the trailer.

“Bye, Dot. See you on Thursday,” he said, resting an arm on the door frame. “Say hi to your dad for me.”

Dottie stopped at the last step for half a second before hurrying up the stairs again and wrapping her arms around the eldest Munson with a bright smile on her face. She squeezed him tightly before letting go, her expression sincere and yet a little bit embarrassed.

“Thank you, Mr. Wayne. See you on Thursday,” was all she said, before disappearing into her dad’s car and leaving down the dirt road.

He watched them leave, sitting on his doorstep and fishing a cig out of the front pocket of his work shirt. He chuckled to himself after taking the first drag, thinking about his nephew taking a nap in his room, about the black stain he kept telling him to clean up to no avail, and about the girl who refused to take no for an answer. About how there was definitely something different about Dorothy Burke, and how maybe, just maybe, what separated her from all the other kids her age was exactly what made her so similar to Eddie after all.

Wednesday, May 7th - 1986

Hawkins High’s library wasn’t as big as her former school’s library, but had so far proved sufficient enough for all her researching needs. Thus, Dottie found herself perusing the Home Economics section after claiming to need a book for an essay, resorting to little white lies in the hopes that Eddie wouldn’t look too much into them. He seemed to be in brighter spirits that day, still sniffling and occasionally coughing into his elbow, but his eyes were less swollen and teary with the help of his newly acquired allergy meds. Still, Dottie insisted (perhaps a bit too much, but he wasn’t about to fight her about it) that he take a nap during their shared free period in an effort to get back to full health as quickly as possible. He didn’t even think about how unusual it was for her to even suggest it before resting his head on his balled up jacket, arms folded on top of their secluded table at the back of the room.

“Do you need any help, sweetie?” Mrs. James, the school’s librarian, said, startling Dottie from her trance scanning the table of contents in what looked to be yet another useless book. “You’ve been going through every shelf in this section, maybe I can help you find what you need?”

“Oh, thank you, I didn’t think to ask,” Dottie smiled at the old lady. “I’m trying to do some research on mold and I’m stumped.”

“Mold? Why, I think you ought to be looking in the science section then! Is this for a Biology class? Maybe you can ask Mr. Brooke if he has any recommendations.”

“Actually, I was looking into mold removal for Home Ec? You know, like in old houses or bathrooms!”

“Hmmm, can’t say I recall any books like that off the top of my head but let me check. There must be something about home repairs somewhere,” she walked away towards the front desk, muttering to herself.

Dottie followed her into the main area of the library, always keeping an eye on the path towards the table where Eddie was resting upon, blissfully unconscious and unaware of his surroundings. Mrs. James rummaged through a set of drawers full of neat cards, nodded once and promptly disappeared through a back door behind her desk. Dottie waited, her hopes dwindling as she stared at the clock on the wall counting down the minutes until the bell rang.

She was distracted, rapping her chipped sparkly red nails on the wooden surface in front of her when she felt a weight settle across her shoulders, and smelled her sleepy friend before she even saw him. Eddie’s clothes generally had faint traces of smoke hidden behind Old Spice after shave, generously applied cheap woodsy cologne and gentle laundry detergent, his battle vest adding a hint of pungent weed to the mix. She had only noticed a few days prior that his hair always smelled like green apple in the mornings, most likely thanks to his predilection of showering as a way of waking himself up. Dottie knew that if it had belonged to anyone else, she wouldn’t have found the mix of aromas as charming as she did - she thought of it as a side effect of that newly discovered pesky little crush she consciously chose not to dwell too much about.

“Well, that was a hell of a nap,” he muttered into her hair, voice and limbs still heavy with sleep.

“And you woke up on your own before the bell rang, I’m impressed,” she said.

“So… what are we waitin’ for?”

“Mrs. James is looking something up for me in the back, you can wait at the table if you want.”

“Nah, I’m cozy,” he said, putting all his weight onto her shoulders, her knees wobbling a little bit before she caught herself on the desk.

Dottie was sure he’d dozed off while standing up and the way he jumped when the bell rang didn’t really convince her otherwise. It was still ringing when Mrs. James reappeared from wherever she had been hiding in her backrooms, a small book with a bit of a lengthy title in white letters at the front. She waved it around as if it were a valuable carnival prize.

“I’m not sure it’ll be of much help, but I think it’s the closest you’ll find here,” she admitted. “Just sign this, you can fill in the rest when you return it. You don’t want to be late for class!”

“Thank you!” Dottie hurried to sign the form attached to a clipboard and tucked the book into her chest to hide the front from Eddie. “I’ll let you know if it helped.”

“Oh, please do! If it doesn’t, maybe you could check the local library? It’s much bigger than this one, I bet they’ll have what you need.”

“I will, thank you. I’ll bring this one back tomorrow, I promise.”

“You can keep it for a week, sweetie, don’t worry. Now go on, get to class you two!”

“Did you get the feeling she was trying to get rid of us or was it just me?” Eddie muttered, a sly smile on his face while they gathered their things and left the library.

“Just doing her duty in helping you to graduate, that’s all,” Dottie joked back, shoving her newly acquired book deep into her backpack.

“See you at lunch?” he said, walking backwards through the quickly emptying hallway.

“Of course! See ya!”

She watched him nod once and bolt towards his Latin class when the second warning bell rang. Dottie took a second to take a deep breath before walking into her World History classroom where Jeff was already waiting for her, his usual calm smile on his face. She really didn’t like hiding things from her friends, but since she only had Eddie’s benefit in mind, she hoped he wouldn’t be as pissed off as she feared he would be when he found out.

Gareth’s house had big windows on the west side that opened up to a medium sized backyard, thick green grass extending until the end of the property. His parents had debated on building a pool back when the kids were younger, but as it turned out, pools were much more expensive than what they were willing to spend at that moment. They had ended up getting a blow up pool that served its purpose perfectly for a few hot summers until Gareth crashed his bike into it at age 12 and punctured it.

Eddie felt marginally better than the day before and was looking forward to taking his second dose of allergy meds once he got home, but for now, he was content to tuck himself into his friend’s armchair and read through Jeff’s Biology notes. Besides, having the girl he was hard crushing on in his line of sight was always a plus. Dottie, on the other hand, wished Eddie would just fall the fuck asleep so she could skim her damn book without him noticing. Homeowner’s Quick-repair and Emergency Guide by Max Alth was still carefully hidden between her other possessions in her backpack when Jeff plopped down on the seat across from hers at the dining table.

“Heyyyy,” he said, awkwardly.

“Hey?”

“I, uh, I need advice on something but if you don’t wanna talk about it, just… tell me to fuck off, okay? I won’t hold it against you, I promise.”

“Okay?” Dottie stared at him like he had grown two heads overnight.

“So, I remember you mentioning you have a book about Victorian flower language?” he waited for her to nod in confirmation before continuing. “I was hoping you could tell me what to get, y’know, for Mother’s Day.”

“Oh! Of course, I’d love to help! What did you have in mind?” she smiled, understanding now where his hesitance was coming from.

“Just something nice, doesn’t really matter if it’s expensive. Bobby’s coming home, said he’s pitching in.”

“Aw, that’s cool. I’m sure your Mom will be happy to have both her boys home.”

“Yeah, I guess,” he shrugged. “Haven’t told him about Virginia yet, I’m kinda terrified he’s gonna get pissy about it and ruin the day for Mom. He can be… intense about the military stuff, even more than my Dad. It’s so annoying.”

“Well, that’s his own fucking problem,” she scoffed. “You didn’t do anything wrong, not your fault he can’t see you are not a kid anymore and can make your own choices. But never mind Bobby, we were talking about your Mom! I’ll bring my book to school tomorrow, we can look through it together if you want, find something cute.”

“That sounds great, thank you!” he smiled wide, his braces full on display. He couldn’t wait until he got them removed. “Are you… Like… Man, I don’t know if this is okay to ask-”

“Jeff, it’s okay,” she patted his hand across the table. “You can ask, I don’t mind.”

“I was just wondering if you celebrate or anything like that.”

“I do, in my own way.”

From his comfy spot on the couch, Eddie watched Dottie pull her backpack into her lap and rummage through her books, finding a baby pink envelope between them and sliding it over to Jeff with a shy smile. His heart rate picked up, could it be…? Was she showing him what she had received or was she giving it to Jeff? Maybe there had never been a secret admirer, maybe… maybe Dottie had always just liked Jeff and Eddie had been so far up his own ass he’d never noticed it before. And who could blame her? Jeff was kind, gentle in ways that Eddie couldn’t fathom being. He was going to a good college, had a bright future ahead of him, came from a nice family. He watched them talk; Dottie leaned over the table, pointing something out to him on the card. Jeff was polite, a fantastic singer, a great friend. One of Eddie’s best friends, actually. Fuck, I’m such an idiot, I can’t ruin this for them, I’m-

Jeff carefully put the card back into the envelope and gave it back to her, stopping to grab her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. Eddie’s pulse returned somewhat to its normal rhythm when Dottie put the pink paper inside her backpack, tucked into the same spot she’d taken it out from. Donny got up from his spot on the floor, books forgotten, and slid himself into the chair next to Dottie’s, arm resting behind her. She leaned into his shoulder using his arm as a neck pillow, the three friends now engaged in animated conversation. Eddie caught a few words as their voices raised: the boys were trying to talk her into going to next week’s gig at The Hideout. He looked down at Jeff’s Biology notes resting on his thighs and ran a hand over his eyes. Everything was normal, nothing had changed, and yet everything felt different for him anyways.

Eddie had always been proud of his ability to hold his shit together no matter what. He considered himself an expert in bottling up, shoving things under the rug until they could no longer be seen. But this mystery card situation? It was absolutely messing him up. If he had discovered something about himself in the past two days, it was that even though he wasn’t a jealous asshole, he could still be a jealous man, and that knowledge embarrassed him to the bone. He didn’t like the way all his insecurities screamed at him whenever he compared himself to his best friends, detailing all his shortcomings and failures, constricting his chest and leaving him breathless. In his mad panic, a lone image of having to watch Dottie fall in love with someone else while he got left behind kicked him square in the chest.

Dottie turned her head to the side, looked at him sitting alone on the couch and beckoned him over with her hand, a soft smile gracing her features. He realized right there, as loud thunder cracked open the sky and the long awaited rain made its return to Hawkins, that he could take a step to the side if she needed him to. He would let her be happy with someone else, even if it was with one of his best friends. Even if it pained him to imagine it. But he also realized that Eddie Munson wasn’t going to go down without trying. Once they were alone tomorrow, he was gonna ask about the card and if her answer turned out to be less than favorable for him, he’d be supportive and encouraging. He would be a good friend, just like she’d always been to him. And most importantly, if she happened to choose Jeff, or Gareth, or Donny, he would never let it come between him and his band mates. All his friendships would remain intact, he would make damn sure of it. But he couldn’t quit before he tried.

Eddie joined them at the table, mirroring Donny’s position and letting his arm fall behind on Jeff’s chair. Jeff leaned into his shoulder and batted his eyes at him, clearly making fun of Dottie who chucked an eraser at his chest in response. Everything will work itself out, Eddie thought, watching Gareth pull up a chair to the table. We’ll be fine.

“Honey, can you set the table?” James called from the kitchen, hands busy finishing dinner.

“Yeah,” Dottie replied, barely loud enough for him to hear her.

James took the chicken out of the oven, setting it on the empty stove top and transferred it from the sheet pan to a more appropriate container that wouldn’t burn the surface of the wooden table when placed upon the tablecloth. He was adding the final touches to his roasted potatoes when he lifted his head and noticed his daughter hadn’t yet moved from her spot on the couch, legs dangling from the arm, book propped on her thighs. This wasn’t an unusual sight in the Burke household; Dottie had an affinity towards never sitting like a normal person, something that he’d always found extremely amusing. James leaned out of the passthrough window to call her attention again.

“Can Her Majesty please set the table today if she wishes to eat while it’s hot?”

“I’m coming, hold on,” she finally got up, book still in her hand and being held open by her thumb in the middle of the gutter.

“What are you reading?”

“Something I got from the school’s library. I think it’s a bust but it’s the only one they had on this topic.”

“What topic?” he asked, and Dottie lifted the cover so he could see. “Homeowner’s Guide? Did you buy a house I wasn’t aware of?”

“Yeah, you know that blue Victorian mansion on Morehead Street? Got it at a discount because someone got murdered in there,” Dottie said in a deadpan tone.

“You hate haunted houses but you’re gonna live in one?” he snorted, watching her come in and out of the kitchen to the living room carrying plates and cups with only one hand.

“Nah, I’m gonna fix it up and turn a profit.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, proudly.

Once they were seated at the dinner table, plates full and cheeks stuffed with homemade bread, Dottie went back to her reading, going back and forth from the table of contents to various pages she was marking with her fingers. This was also not unusual behavior coming from the teenager; James was very much used to her being absorbed in whatever she was reading at any given time, so much so that sometimes she’d make herself a snack or a cup of tea to enjoy while getting lost in her fantasy worlds and completely forget about it until hours later. He supposed he only had himself to blame for that, having encouraged reading since she had learned to sound out her own name. It was, however, extremely strange to see her this engrossed in non-fiction, particularly about a subject that she had never really shown much interest in before. She loved baking and cooking, sewing, knitting and doing various kinds of crafty things, but she’d never been curious about home repairs. Sometimes she’d wait for days until James changed a lightbulb for her, claiming she didn’t want to do it herself because she was probably gonna get electrocuted. James supposed that was also his fault, pampering his daughter so much that she had never really needed to learn how to do it in the first place.

“I’d like to talk with my daughter during dinner like a normal family, please,” he said, tapping the top of her book.

“Sorry, it’s… I’m doing research on mold removal and I’m getting nowhere,” she huffed, finally setting the offending pages aside and looking up at him. “This book sucks, can’t believe this guy’s advice for an intruder is to get a dog.”

“We’re not getting a dog.”

“Do you enjoy ruining my fun?”

“I signed a contract, it’s my duty as your Dad,” James grinned. “Why do you want to learn about mold removal?”

“Remember I told you about Eddie’s allergies? He has mold in his room, Wayne said I could clean it but I don’t really know how.”

“Wayne asked you to clean Eddie’s moldy room?”

“No, of course not!” she glared at her dad like he was insane for even suggesting it. “I asked for permission to do it. I’m worried about Eddie, he could get really sick if he keeps breathing that stuff in. I just- I wanted to do something nice for him, that’s all. He’s always driving me around and doesn’t let me pay him for gas, it feels like I’m taking advantage of him.”

“A good deed for a good deed?” James said, softening.

“I was thinking about it more like payment in kind.”

“And you said the book isn’t helping?”

“Nope,” she said, popping the P. “Not a single mention of mold but plenty on wasps.”

“Why don’t you ask Uncle Johnny? He cleaned up the mold behind the washer and it never came back, he might remember how he did it.”

“Huh, hadn’t thought of asking him. Thanks.”

After dinner, Dottie hurried to wash all the dishes before dialing a very familiar number she was sure she’d remember her entire life. Sat on one of the kitchen island stools, pompom pen in one hand and cord stretched to its limit, she heard the phone ring once, twice, thrice before someone picked up from the other side.

“Hello?”

“Hi Uncle Johnny, it’s me!”

“Hey tiny, how’s it going? How’s your Dad?” his voice was soft and warm just like it always was; Dottie could hear his smile in every word.

“Good, good, he’s taking a shower. I was actually calling because I need help with something important.”

“Uh oh, do you want me to get Mary Elizabeth?”

Johnny and Mary Elizabeth had gotten married the summer after Dottie turned five; she got to fulfill the role of flower girl at the modest but gorgeous wedding, stealing all the looks as she danced with her Dad all night and fell asleep before the cake was cut. The couple had been friends since their first year at college, but they had started dating only a year before Johnny proposed during a cheap last minute holiday in Vermont. They had the kind of relationship that made Dottie believe in true love: two best friends who supported one another through financial turmoil, illnesses, debts, and grief, and kept choosing each other every day despite the hardships. Every time she saw them, she hoped that someday she’d get as lucky as they did when they found each other.

“No, I need your expertise this time,” she said, twirling the stretched cord around her pen. “Remember when you got rid of that mold behind the washer? A friend of mine has a mold issue and I was wondering if you could tell me how to clean that up.”

“Hell yeah, I remember, that stuff was gross. Got something to take notes on?” he asked, getting comfy in his armchair back in New York.

Around fifteen minutes later, James popped into the kitchen in his pjs with a ball of dirty clothes under his arm. He stepped around the island and threw the pile into a half filled basket in the laundry room for him to sort out the next day while he listened to Dottie on the phone.

“What do you mean it’s toxic?” she asked, and crossed something in her notebook. “Oh, okay, I won’t. Yeah, I think so. Two. One might be stuck but I know the big one opens-” she paused, listening. “Great, I’ll do that then. Thank you so much! Yes, I’ll call you tomorrow. Okay. Okay, I’ll tell him you said that,” she rolled her eyes. “Bye, love you! Say hi to Mary Elizabeth and Rosie for me. Thank you again!”

“Everything okay?”

“He says that he saw that movie you told him to watch and it sucked.”

“I know. That’s why I told him to watch it,” James grinned. “Did he help with the mold thing?”

“Big time,” she said, her sly smile matching her Dad’s. “That ceiling is gonna look brand new when I’m done with it, I promise.”

taglist (let me know if you want me to add you!): @munsonology

[babybearsnz]

hello, I hope your requests are open, otherwise it will be embarrassing. can you write a fic about felix and jisung (skz) where they are alone in the dorm with some super sneezy cold. and they have to look after each other despite their condition.

thank you for advance!!

Stupid nose

Sickies: Jisung and Felix

Caretakers: Jisung and Felix

Relationship: Platonic

Felix’s pov:

“Alright, sickos, we’re heading out.” Chan came over to the couch and gave Han and I each a kiss on the head while the other members made their way to the cars. “Can I get you two anything else before we go?”

I shook my head. Han just stretched his arms out, requesting a hug which Chan happily delivered.

“Take good care of each other,” he said. “Call if you need anything. Love you both!” He called from the doorway.

And then we were alone, bummed we couldn’t attend the day’s interviews. We had caught colds, and they were rough. Headcolds in which the only symptoms were terrible congestion and incredibly itchy noses. A headache pounded in my sinuses.

“Sungie, I’m getting up to take more meds.” Han was curled up in a blanket beside me, scrubbing at his nose. “Is there anything I should grab for you?”

“More tissues.” He sniffled and his mouth opened slightly. He always sneezed a lot when he was sick and I heard his breath hitch as I walked away. I frowned, expecting one of his small fits.

I was getting a glass of water to take the pills with when I heard him. “TCHhuu! TCHhuh! hadETCHhuu! TCHhuu!”

“Bless you!” I called.

He yelled back, thanking me, shortly before I returned to the living room.

“You okay?” I asked and handed him a box of tissues.

He nodded and blew his nose. “It’s just annoying that I sneeze this much.”

I sat back down and cuddled up next to him. “My nose is super itchy but not nearly as bad as yours, I guess.” I shrugged.

“I always get like this,” he rolled his eyes. “hehTCHhu! HESHhuu!”

“Oh, bless you.” I coughed and sighed.

Han sniffled again and held a knuckle up to his nose. “Thank you.” He stretched. “Are you hungry?”

“I could eat,” I replied.

He stood from the couch. “I was thinking of making ramyeon. It might help your stuffiness.”

I thanked him and turned on the TV while Han went to make us lunch.

Jisung’s pov:

I put a pot on the stove and started on our food. The steam made my nose run and I had to stop a few times to blow my nose. I decided against a spicier recipe because I had already sneezed plenty.

“What do you want to watch?” Felix called from the couch.

“Pick whatever, I don’t mind.” I answered. “Big bowl or small?”

He didn’t answer and I looked up in confusion. “S—small’s fi—f—fine. huhRESHhuhh! Oh, excuse me.”

“God bless you, Lixie.” I started portioning the food.

“Thanks.” I heard the fridge open and turned to see Felix getting out ice tea. He poured me some as well and headed back toward the couch, stopping in his tracks in the hallway.

“Lix?” I followed him with the food.

“hahISHHuuh! Jeez, sorry.”

I laughed and the two of us sat for our meal.

I had to keep sniffling while I ate. My nose was running from the steam and I eventually switched to holding a tissue up to my nose.

Soon enough, the tickle in my nose grew. “TCHheh! TCHhuu! hehNGXTtch! hihNGXT!” I groaned, the sneezes giving me little time in between to breathe.

“Wow, bless you, hyung.” Felix patted my shoulder and I blew my nose again, sneezing tiredly twice more.

I thanked him with a nod and continued eating. “Is it good?”

Felix nodded and took another bite. “Mhm, you did well.” He reached over and ruffled my hair before turning to the side. “huETCHhuh! huESHH!”

I was mid bite. “M’bless you.”

He sniffled a few times. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

“This is the worst,” I said and scrubbed harshly at my nose. “I have to sneeze so bad all the time.” My breath wavered and I let out an involuntary whimper.

Felix had finished eating and pulled me over to lean on him. He put an arm around me. “You’re feeling worse than me, huh?”

I shrugged. “It’s just my stupid nose.” My breath hitched. “I don’t know why when I’m sick I s—sneeze so mu—much.”

“Oh, Hannie.” Felix rubbed my arm and pulled me in tight.

I cupped my hands over my face. “hehTCHhuu! huhTCHH! hahTCHH! hehTCHH! hehTCHH! heh-heh—haah, haTCHhiew! heTCHhiee!”

Felix rested his head on mine. “Bless you, bless you. You must be exhausted after that.”

“Mm,” I groaned and shut my eyes. Lixie rubbed my back until I was able to fall asleep, itchy nose and all.

[iwanttoleavethisblankbuticant]

little collection of my brain tangles, relating to my OCs that I previously abandoned… part 1

Yooo I actually wrote something! Bare with me because I’m not a good writer and I’m a visual thinker. So when I think of these stories, they’re in WEB/TOON form in my brain. Then I have to translate all that into words. It’s a painful process for me. But I actually wrote and it feels good

I’m sorry if the story makes literally no sense. It’s hard for me to get the world I built down.

TW: swearing, male arousal, sneeze, slight mess, gay. It’s not letting me add a cut again I’m sorryyyyy. ——————————————————————— the whole crew (Vex, Mackie, Knox, Asher) all being going out to eat. They get seated, order there food and drinks, and just bask in the coziness of the little diner they’re in. Mackie, being unable to sit still to save his life, begins the fidget with the condiments on the table. “the hell are you doing?” Vex asks him incredulously, cocking an eyebrow at him. “deciding what condiments I’m gonna use when I eat your knee caps.” Replies the gremlin with a happy smile. Vex just scoffs and looks at the other two people at the table. Knox is looking over at Asher’s phone as Asher mindlessly scrolls. Vex doesn’t particularly like talking, but he wishes someone would say something. Or something would at least happen. He shouldn’t have wished that.

Mackie, in his fidgeting, knocks over the pepper shaker. No damage seems to be done. Nothing spilt, so Mackie just picks it up, puts it back with the salt, then continues fidgeting with a ketchup bottle. a few minutes pass until they notice that the pepper shaker did have some effect. “*hih*” the tiniest, breathy-ist hitch comes from Knox. It flys right over Mackie’s head. But Vex and Asher are both hyper aware of it immediately. “you good there, big man?” Asher asks tentatively, wondering if he’s in for a show. He can’t help the smirk that pulls it’s way across his face.

“yeah. Nose itches a bit.” Knox mutters, not paying much mind to the question. But those words fill Vex full of dread. And Asher full of anticipation.

“oh? Why’s that? What’s bothering your nose?” Asher presses, smirking. “I don’t fucking know. That pepper shaker dust whatever. When Mackie knocked it over. Sent little bits all up in the air. It just makes my sinuses buzz.” Knox says with a shrug. Vex wanted to curl up and die. All this nose talk had his mind going places he wished it wouldn’t go. Especially over Knox! He hated Knox. But fuck. That kinda talk was doing something to him.

“just blow your fucking nose, dip shit” Vex hisses. “stop being an asshole. I don’t need to blow my nose. You can shut the fuck up if your getting mad at me for just existing.” Knox growls.

Vex just rolls his eyes and turns his head to his left, facing Mackie. Vex hoped that would be the last of it. A new conversation would pick up, he’d calm down and soon eat food then go back home where he could sulk. But of course that wish didn’t come true. Soon vex could hear the faint squelching sound of someone, Knox, rubbing his nose. Curiosity killed the cat and Vex looked up at Knox, only to find him rubbing circular motion into his irritated red nose. Vex was all too aware of Knox suddenly. He forces his eyes back to Mackie. He forces his eyes to stay on Mackie even when he hears another hitch come from Knox.

“hehh… hii.. fuck me” Knox groans under his breath.

“My dick would like to” Vex thinks to himself, very much annoyed at Knox and his sensitive nose. I mean, who even sneezes because some peppery air exists. And why must it drag out so long? If it was a one and done sneeze then Vex could manage himself. But no. He just doesn’t have that luxury.

“Daddy chill~” Asher says in response to Knox’s murmuring. Asher smiles cheekily at Knox who just rolls his eyes. “shut up. Both y’all” Vex says through gritted teeth. “both of us?? What the hell did I doooo heh! Hiiihhhh mmmm, fuck. Heh.. heeh. Ah!…nhg.. shit, fucking lost it..” moans and groans Knox.

Vex wants to not exist. Even more he wishes Knox didn’t exist. He could feel the urge for his hand to go to his crotch. But he refused to palm himself here and now, especially to Knox.

“Aww, what’s your nose doing? Can’t handle the mildest spices” Mackie teases.

Knox huffs and goes back to rubbing his nose. “I guess. This stupid tickle just won’t leave.” Knox moans. With a thick sniffle that makes Vex want to decapitate himself even more, Knox sniffs back up the mucus building in his sinuses that’s trying desperately to roll down his upper lip.

“just go to the fucking bathroom and blow your nose and get your shit together” Vex growls.

“yeah? I ought to drag you with me and beat your ass while I’m at it.” Knox says back with a scowl. “…” Knox’s words put a whole plethora of ideas in his head, non of which he wants to do with Knox. “no.” Vex says finally. An awkward silence falls amongst the group. But it’s quickly filled with Knox’s hitches.

“heh hiiii… hehehe! Hehh. Ahh.. ahhh.. he-hehhhh…. Ngh… heeehhh. Hiiihhhh. Mmmm~ fuck… ehhh… hih-hih-hhheehh.” Knox hitches, sounding an awful lot like something else. Vex can’t help but rest his hand on his pent up member. The weight of his hand mixed with the noises Knox is making, Vex uses all the self control he has no to buck his hips. “heshhhuu!” Knox sneezes finally, not covering his mouth despite all the warnings the sneeze gave him. Droplets off spray land on the table. None reach Vex, but they still drive him mad. A tendril of snot clings to Knox’s upper lip. Knox wipes it away as Mackie whines about getting sneezed on. Apparently some of the spray had gotten on him. “I’m gobing to thd bathroomb.” Knox says, punctuating his sentence with a thick sniffle. “oki, bless you Chico~” Asher says as he gets out of the booth so Knox can get out. Vex is just glad it’s over with. At least he is until he hears Knox sneeze again from a distance and the problem on his hands gets bigger. Or more like the problem between his legs.

[rainsnz]

albedo, up in dragonspine with a headcold. thinks he can work it off, but the weather isn’t being particularly considerate regarding his current condition.

Dearest Anonymous Writer, I do hope you enjoy this fic I lovingly crafted for you!!! I was OVERJOYED to receive this in my asks and I really really hope you like it!!!!!!! Even though I am bad at writing (especially albedo who may seem ooc, but i tried.) Happy Holidays everyone!

Frostbite

g/enshin snzfic (sick!a/lbedo & k/aeya) (4k ish words)

The frost is extra frosty today.

Even clutching the furry blankets closer to his freezing skin does very little against the cold seeping into his bones; Albedo wraps the covers closer to himself, letting out a small shiver, wholly unwilling to get out of the warm fluffy sheets. At least, for a few more moments…

…

Just a few more moments… 

When the ceiling comes into view again, it seems like the room’s gotten even colder, and Albedo’s muscles feel like lead, and his eyelids feel as though an irresistible force, stronger than gravity, is pulling them down.

He has half a mind to close his eyes again and allow sleep to claim him once more.

…

Albedo’s eyes fly open, leaving the world reeling from how quickly light infiltrates his senses, and his mouth opens before he even has the slightest idea why, his mind still slow and stupid from the stupor of dreamless sleep - he’s plunged into darkness once more as quickly as he’d left it, his every thought now devoted to a singular cause - the insane, burning itch that has somehow invaded the very back of his nasal passages -!

“-h-hIH-!”

He wavers, mouth hanging open, nostrils quivering in frustrated anticipation, for just a moment - 

“..-h-hiihH-..!”

Before finally, thank the Archons, his nose releases him from the agony - he pitches forward, blanket raised up to catch the messy spray of his sneezes -

“-hIh’ks-Huh-! h’IHKSH-uh-!”

A pause, in which Albedo keeps his eyes squeezed shut, nose still buried in the fur of his blanket, waiting for the itch to summon more exhausting expulsions - 

Then the alchemist sighs, a wet sniffle escaping him as he lowers the blank-

“-hiHH’kSHhuu-!”

Startled, he gasps involuntarily, his breaths growing uneven as the itch burns powerfully throughout his nose, which responds with an aching twinge of agonizing sensation pummeling the sensitive insides of his red, twitching nostrils - 

“-hiiyyEiiii’kSHhiuu-!! …!”

That sneeze had been particularly wet, and he’s left sniffling furiously, trying to recover his dignity even as his blanket’s hopelessly soiled with the spray of his - oh no, his breath catches as a particularly sharp twinge in his sinuses makes his head rear back, and something tells him that his blanket’s going to be rather worse for the wear after -

“-hhaAHHH’EKkhsh-hIHH’kSShhi-uuuHH-!!”

Hurriedly, before he can sniffle reflexively, he shoves the fur blanket off of himself, all but catapulting himself out of the safe haven of the warm bed, eyes still squeezed shut -

“hhAHh-uhhKKSShhh-!! h’KKShh!!.....” 

Albedo swipes at his inflamed nostrils, groaning slightly as he finally has the chance to open his bleary eyes. Ugh.. With a slight sigh he sinks down onto the chair by his desk, a hand rifling through his drawers. He knew he should’ve gotten rid of that fur-blanket ages ago, as it had the tendency to coax a few sneezes out of his sensitive nose every now and again, but he hadn’t exactly expected the itch to be quite so strong so as to wake him up. The alchemist sniffles, fingers finally finding the handkerchief he’d been searching for, and, with a slight sigh, he blows his nose. Perhaps the blanket had accumulated some dust, or something..? 

Either way, best not to keep the thing about for now. Albedo sniffles once again, finding it rather irritating how much his nose is running. His throat at this point is starting to ache, which can only be from the chill that’s invaded the entire cave. Hmm.. must’ve been a particularly bad storm. 

Albedo frowns, hesitant, as he stares down the offending blanket, its furry exterior evoking a particular itch in the back of his nose. However, the sheer amount of shivering he’s doing is strongly dissuading him from exiting the cave to properly dispose of the thing, and for a few moments he simply clings to his own arms, trying to hide from the pervasive cold.

Oh, not again - his head tilts back, breath catching once more -! Albedo moans quietly, the back of his hand digging at his irritated nostrils, but still he’s helpless to stop the next series of -

“-h-hAHHhikSHH-! h’iIKSh-uhh-! h’iKKsh-HUH-! H’--!! h-hh-AKsHHiyuuhH-!”

A wet sniffle. His nose burns badly. In a rather embarrassing display he blows his nose into the poor, wet handkerchief, and finds barely any relief, as his nostrils ignite with renewed passion.

“Uhh-hhh-! hAAhhHKKHSHHh-!! ha’AKKHShhUH-!!”

As the itch starts to get utterly overwhelming he decides that enough is enough. With one hand pinching hard at his itchy nose, the other holding the blanket as far as possible from his face, Albedo (in a very dignified manner) thrusts the wretched fabric far into the snow.

He breathes a sigh of almost relief, that swiftly becomes a gasp of desperation -!

“-huuuhh-! H-uhh-..!!”

The agonizing seconds stretch longer and longer as his breaths come unevenly. 

And yet…!

Every passing moment feels more and more like a letdown, as the itch becomes more of a background hum, as silent as the snowflakes falling onto snowdrifts, yet as present as the chill they bring. Albedo’s hand lowers, taking with it the handkerchief and his spirits. He sniffles, hugging his elbows as he waits patiently, head still tilted upward.

It feels as if an eternity passes with his nose wiggling in the air, nursing the tiny itch until it’s formidable enough for him to finally expel it - and oh, that burns -! 

“-hihhh…h-ihh-!”

A small hitching gasp ignites his nasal passages with a brightly burning sensation. 

“..h-iihh-…” It’s only a matter of time, he can tell by the way his eyes are starting to water and the way his throat feels scratchy with anticipation. Yet, he is helpless to speed up the process, completely bent to the will of this torturous sneeze, the burning overwhelming his senses -

“…! -h-!! hihhh-..!”

His breaths are ragged, his nose squirming from the sheer irritation of it all, and - he gasps, itch finally freeing him from the agony.

 “iiih-iiHIHH-kSHUHH-!!”

That’s odd, he thinks, sniffling and shivering with equal fervor, brow furrowed as he tries to part the mist filling his weary brain, shouldn’t his nose be itching less now that the blanket’s gone…? Indeed, his nose’s itch is only growing in strength with every weak sniff and violent shudder. Irritated and annoyed, he blasts his nose into the handkerchief once more. Maybe the tickle hasn’t run its course yet.

Carefully he removes the handkerchief from his nostrils, wiggling them experimentally; fortunately, despite the fact that his every inhale feels stuffy and uncomfortable, he’s not out right sneezing. It probably was the fur after all -!

Albedo’s nose chooses that moment to twitch powerfully, and his fingers quickly reach up, pinching at his nostrils that are currently whining at him, hoping for some reprieve from the wild itching that is exploding like an overload reaction. As the tickle starts to invade his senses he finds that he cannot possibly ignore such a powerful adversary, and, dignity forgotten for a moment, he gasps - nose frantic for relief -!

“hhAHH-!!! h-aAHHEEKSSHH-!! hAHHESHHUHH-!!” The sneezes burn his throat on the way out and he’s left panting slightly, wincing as his entire head is suddenly spinning and pounding and full of sawdust. Albedo sighs, and his heart sinks as that innocuous breath becomes a slight cough as his throat rebels against him.

Well, there’s no denying it now. He’s sick.

A part of him had known the second he’d woken that morning, what with the slight tickle in the back of his throat, creeping upwards into his nasal passages. Now with the irrefutable evidence, there’s no way Albedo can ignore the facts. 

Good thing he can still ignore the symptoms.

Unfortunately, even if Albedo only has a head cold, the outside has a different kind of cold - a much more severe one, at that. A longing gaze turned towards his forlorn bed makes him sorely wish that he hadn’t been so hasty to throw away the warmest blanket that he possessed. Yet a stronger shiver running through his body strongly dissuades him from leaving to retrieve the probably sopping wet and frozen blanket.

Another shiver forces Albedo to his feet, and he stumbles to the fireplace, frozen fingers fumbling with the little firewood he had left. Hands graze against the box’s bottom, and he simply sighs, before tossing the last of the tinder into the hearth.

Normally that’s a sign to go out to fetch more.

Today?

He can barely keep his eyes open long enough to start the fire, fingers barely hanging on to the flint, as his breath shudders weakly in his chest -

He ducks his head into his shoulder, shivering as the itch once again takes control - “hAHkCHUHH-! h-ah-!!”

A pause.

“…hiih…”

The way his breath stutters in his chest is not a very encouraging sign as he wrestles with this fast-fading itch.

“…”

A wet sniffle, disappointment settling into his veins as the urge leaves him hanging, and he wearily turns back to his fire-starting efforts. 

Thanks to quite a few attempts, he manages to get a spark fanned into a small flame, and warmth fills Albedo’s veins. A contented sigh.

“…-ihh-!!” His nose suddenly ignites, a spark similarly bursting to life, and he squeezes his eyes shut, aching nose raised into the air -

“..-hihh-..”

The itch fades once more, and his throat complains furiously. These false starts are driving him insane. There’s nothing Albedo can do, however, but blast his nostrils and gunk into the abused handkerchief helplessly.

Ugh.

Illness is such an inconvenience.

There’s still much to do, and just thinking about it makes Albedo’s head spin. He’ll probably be alright, it’s only a little cold. From prior experience, it’ll most likely go away. The worst that this illness would be is an annoyance - although, his next hitching gasp makes him rethink that, as he desperately clears his itchy nose into his poor soggy handkerchief.

Albedo shuffles onto his chair once the warmth is sufficient to stop his whole-body shivers (somewhat, he’s starting to suspect that the origin of some of them are not in fact from the chill outside) - and even though his body flashes with freezing cold every few minutes or so, it’s enough to get him back to work.

With a careful hand guiding tweezers full of elemental dust, Albedo stares at the pan. Combining these two identical materials, borne of different origins, might have a novel effect, given the technique of mixing is precise. As he delicately handles the instruments, laser-focused on the mixture, he sniffles slightly, the itch in his nose omnipresent and omni-annoying. Wisps of smoke seep upwards, twirling in the cold air, and -!

His throat rises up in immediate protest, a scratchy sensation emerging and rearing its head throughout his respiratory system; Albedo stiffens, a hand automatically flying up to his mouth as he sputters a small cough. CLACK! The tweezers clatter to the floor, but his eyes are fluttering with a much larger issue -!

“hi-IHHHKShuuH-! hii-ihKSHhyuh-!!!”

He opens his eyes to find elemental dust swirling all throughout the frosty air, visible against the puff of his breath, sparkling like motes in the sunlight - and this is not a sight he sees for very long, before his eyes squeeze shut again, breath catching in a half-cough half-sneezing expulsion that grates at his chest - “aHIKSSHTYUUhhh-!! hI-AkkSSHiuhh-!! h-yakkSHUHH—!!!!”

His nose is weeping, and a wet snort does nothing but worsen the issue as more dust makes its way into his red, raw throat. The alchemist stumbles; eyes, nose, and throat burning with an unquenchable fire. Feeling against the wall, gasping as his breath leaves him in repeated coughs and sneezes sprayed against his elbow - “hyiIHHUkkSHH-h’KShhhUhh—!!” Albedo’s fingers find the entrance and he nearly faceplants into the snow from how quickly he opens the door, letting the blizzard-strength winds gust into his poor, frozen abode. The pitiful fire extinguishes itself with a spiteful hiss, but Albedo can barely care less as he refills his dust-infested lungs with fresh, freezing cold oxygen -

and that oxygen acts as a catalyst to the horribly irritating reaction blasting around in his nose; distantly, he wonders if this could count as a swirl reaction, before all thoughts leave his fuzzy mind in favour of I NEED TO SNEEZE -!!

“iiyyIIIEESHHUH-!! h-iihhKSHH-!!!! h-i-iih-kkshhiyyuhh-!!”

He reels in the frosty air, his lungs screaming as the harsh contrast between burning itch and freezing cold stings at his throat and sinuses. Before he can even register the sheer agony, Albedo’s mouth snaps open once more, breaths coming out as half-cough half-hitch abominations as the irritating sensations war with one another -!

“-h-aaHH-h’k-! ‘kSHIiyuh-’! h’k--h’iihHHk’kshhiHUHhh-kSHH-t!!”

The wind is unforgivingly frosty against his poor nose, which protests the sudden temperature change with a violent twitch, and Albedo feels himself falling to pieces even before he has time to draw breath.

“-hiiiIIIIHh-hh’iiHHKKshhHHUh-! h’akSHhuhh! h’kSHHihh-h’hHKhshuhHH!!”

The alchemist pants, his throat finally satiated with the desperate expulsions, and quickly he pulls the door shut as the wind bites at his ears and nose and fingers.

Sniffling fervently, and coughing quite a few times as well, he shivers as he turns back into the room. The lab has dropped in temperature once more. Albedo finds that his head is spinning so badly that he can’t bring himself to bother braving the storm for another heap of firewood. Maybe if he worked some more, he’d regain some energy. Furthermore the storm will probably have passed by the time his experiment has completed. At least, that’s what the alchemist tells himself, as he focuses bleary eyes on the table once more, shuddering as the intensified chill presents itself as an icy feeling through his veins.

For a while he simply works, ignoring how his throat curls with pain and how his sniffling keeps messing up the experiment. A shaking hand is no good when he’s working with delicate ashes, and he grits his teeth out of frustration - totally not because they’re chattering, forced together by the harsh chill in the room. His throat feels as though he had swallowed an entire bottle of sand, and the flask of water isn’t doing much to solve that issue.

His head is pounding - very annoying when he’s trying to measure out ingredients that he can’t remember clearly. Albedo grits his teeth, resolving to scribble down what he’d just added to the mixture, even though this would normally be child’s play. His fingers tremble as he writes - 3 g. Anm. Slime. 4.2 g. Crys. Fly.

The alchemist frowns, quill shaking slightly, as he tries to remember whether or not he’d added the fragile resin three seconds ago, and with a slightly frustrated sigh he shoves the concoction into the waste bin, restarting the experiment once more.

…

The ashes swirl into nothingness from a raw sneeze for possibly the fifth time, although truthfully he’s lost count. A soft groan, and his nostrils rebel, red rims expanding as his eyes flutter shut, and his handkerchief finds its way underneath; the feeling of his mouth opening is almost second nature at this point and Albedo gasps, his whole body gripped by the urgency of expelling this itchy sensation…!

“hy-hAHHKSH-hhUUH! h-hAKASSHUiuhh—!”

He rubs at his nostrils with the handkerchief, smothering a few harsh coughs into the fabric, utterly miserable as the congestion forms a pounding headache. He’s driven utterly to distraction by the freezing cold temperatures, which to his dismay have not improved in the slightest; as some semblance of night falls he finds himself clutching at his arms, shivering so violently that it seems his workspace is vibrating. It’s utterly ridiculous to even consider working still at this point, but Albedo is determined -!

His head pounds again, more powerfully this time.

He ignores it.

“You still kicking, Albedo?”

The alchemist in question suddenly starts, dropping the ingredients and groaning as he ruins the process yet again. “O-oh, coming..!” More pressingly, someone’s at the door, so he hurriedly whisks the mess away with a wave of his hand. The world seems to tilt to the side as he stands up too quickly, and for a moment he can only wobble in place, gripping his chair tightly for support as his vision blurs with many colours.

Freezing cold wind enters the room as he peeks out, eyes meeting a blue-haired knight of Favonius.

“Cavalry Captain..?” Albedo’s voice feels rusty from disuse, so he clears his throat slightly into his fist. “What are you d-doing here..?”

What indeed, would compel anyone to go to Dragonspine during the winter, during this awful snowstorm? Albedo can barely keep his eyes open against the frigid winds that are causing him to shake uncontrollably despite the layers he has on, and the head cold isn’t helping matters - letting the icy frost penetrate deep into his bones as his teeth chatter helplessly.

The man simply chuckles, shaking his head. “Did you seriously forget what day it is?” Kaeya’s expression is one of mild amusement.

Bewildered, Albedo glances up at the sky, as if the dark clouds and the blustery snow will tell him anything about the passage of time, and then back at Kaeya’s bemused expression. He strains his throat to be heard above the howling winds, teeth chattering so badly that his words sound unrecognizable. “I’m s-sorry, please remind me. If that’s alright.”

“The Acting Grand Master asked me to ask you if you were going to give us the heatshield potions for the mission anytime soon.”

Albedo’s eyes widen, before he regains his composure. How could he have forgotten? “I-.. I haven’t completed that assignment.” He smothers another cough, thankful that the other hasn’t mentioned it by now. “I can finish it by tomorrow, though.”

Kaeya tilts his head in apparent agreement. “Mind if I stay here, then? I’m supposed to bring the potions back.”

The blonde-haired man nods, though his eyes are distant; he can feel some sort of tickle in the back of his throat, migrating towards his sinuses, and it’s terribly distracting.

“You ok there, Albedo? You’re not looking too hot.” Kaeya’s voice drifts towards him, and vaguely he discerns a concerned expression on the other man’s face.

Albedo opens his mouth to respond, and…

His nose itches so badly, so suddenly, like a sharp feather-blade twisting its way into his nose, and he has to hold his breath, teeth gritted, in order not to sneeze directly onto the other man, and to his great relief, he manages to keep the nigh-inevitable itch from escaping all over Kaeya’s garments…!

“Albedo?”

He blinks, an apology already making its way out of his aching throat. But when he opens his mouth, a raspy cough escapes instead, turning itself swiftly into a burning itch in the back of his nose and throat and instinctively his body attempts to expel the sudden irritation - his hitching coughs spluttering into a - “h-hhaahh-kkshu-uhh-!! h’-AKSH-!! ‘aKsHHHUH—!!” 

A firm hand on his shoulder steadies the ailing alchemist. Albedo looks up at what appears to be three spinning copies of the cavalry captain, and he stifles a groan.

“Whoa, there. You alright…?”

Albedo blinks, trying to make sense of the gibberish flowing from the other’s mouth. “Um… Y-yes.” His words do not sound very confident, especially considering that he shivers violently right afterward. 

“Try again.” Kaeya lets himself, and a strong gust of frosty wind, into the cave, and as Albedo shudders the knight smoothly slips off his furry scarf, tying it loosely around the blonde-haired man’s shoulders. “Archons, Albedo, you’re burning up.”

“So I am.” The Alchemist’s voice is quiet, eyes rather distant as he leans away from Kaeya’s hand reaching for his forehead. “…O-or perhaps, y-you’re th-the one that’s cold…”

His poor attempt at a joke is interrupted by a quiet curse from the fireplace. “Do you not have any firewood…? In Dragonspine?”

“Did earlier..” 

He must’ve sounded rather pitiful, as Kaeya stands up immediately and makes his way to the door. “Stay right here, I’m gonna have to get some more.” Just like that, he’s gone, sending another chill into the room. 

Albedo’s attempt to stop him - opening his mouth to protest, has left his own nose protesting, and he stifles a sneeze into his palm - “h-iIIkhshUUH-!” Well, now it’s too late. The wind whistles outside and he has no ability to follow given his current state. Now the only thing he can do is to obey Kaeya’s order to wait.

Albedo listens for all of about three minutes, and that’s mostly because he’s summoning the strength to stand again. As soon as this capability is returned to him, he’s once again sitting at his desk, staring at the elemental dust in his workspace. He definitely has time to finish the potions before Kaeya returns.

He is about to mix everything together when he realizes he needs more flaming flower stamens. The most important ingredient in the potion. The only reason he’s not kicking himself, physically, is that he left some in the storage just a two-minute walk from this lab.

It’ll be a short trip.

Albedo’s opening the door before he can think twice about it.

The biting frost stings at his numb fingers. Albedo’s been shivering nonstop for the whole day so the fact that he’s shivering barely registers. 

By the time the shaking gets worse, the path is hidden under layers of snow. His feet sink into the powdered frost, leaving them soaked with cold. 

Everything looks so unfamiliar, even though he’d lived here for so long.

It’s another five? Ten? Minutes before Albedo finally admits he’s lost, coughing harshly into the scarf that Kaeya had lent him. 

Snow feels like nothing against his already-numb fingers and wet against his knees.

Navigating this is impossible, given that he can’t keep his eyes open for even a moment before the snowflakes catch in his eyelashes, fluttering as his nose compels him to duck forward into frozen hands -

“HH-iIYEESh- h’kSHIeyyUUUh!!!”

He sprays sneezes against the sparkling snow, the sound lost to the howling wind.

Albedo’s eyes are burning with cold and hot and the same time, as they stream with tears from the force of ejecting his tortured lungs via sneezing and coughing -

A warmth upon his shoulder, and he hazily looks up, sky and snow blurring together.

A certain blue-haired Knight of Favonius stares back at him, frightened concern clear in his icy eyes - his lips move, but Albedo doesn’t hear anything over the roar of the blizzard.

He simply melts into the other’s touch, too dizzy and too weak to move on his own, and thankfully the other man supports both their weight against the wind and snow. It feels like forever, struggling against biting cold that burns at his nose and ears and -

Albedo gasps, muffling a coughing fit into his frozen hand, and his nose, offended by the frigid snowflakes, immediately sends a stinging itch through his congested sinuses - he sputters, breathless. “hiIHk-sHuh-!! hikhssh-hiIhkSHHuuh-!!”

The wind lessens and Albedo manages to crack an eye open against frosty air to see Kaeya bracing himself against the snow, protecting them from the brunt of the storm as they continue to shuffle in the direction of Albedo’s abode.

“-hiiIh-! hih-! h-hiIHKHSH! h’ksHUH!” A dizzy sneeze leaves him leaning heavily against Kaeya’s chest, and luckily the Cavalry Captain does not falter. Instead he speeds up, all but dragging his companion into the safety of their shelter. 

It’s a single moment of silence after the raging storm outside.

Broken swiftly, a few seconds later.

“What were you thinking?!” Kaeya all but yells, breathless from exertion. “You’re sick! What were you doing outside?”

“I’m used to snow,” Albedo responds, weakly, and his own raspy voice sounds pathetic to himself. “Had to get some ingredients fr-from…” His nose scrunches up and his weak voice trails into nothingness, and he catches Kaeya’s wince of sympathy before his eyes slam shut. “fr-uuuHhkShu! uuhKSHHiyyuu—!!”

A wet sniffle, followed by a few congested coughs, and Albedo moans, involuntarily, from the discomfort. 

“Here, I gotcha -”

The next few minutes are a blur, and by the time he regains actual consciousness a fire is roaring in the hearth. He’s wrapped in a blanket. Albedo blinks slowly.

“Th-thank you, Kaeya-”

He sniffles into the blanket.

“Don’t mention it.” The man looks at him sideways, a soft huff of relief escaping. “Do you usually… do this?”

He does not usually catastrophically fail his commissions, so his back stiffens with offense. “N-no, I assure you, I do not tend to forget my tasks-!” Albedo’s voice starts to waver, “...It was… I…”

To his horror, his eyes are watering.

“...I…”

He has no explanation, really, for his failure.

“...I can g-get the potions made by tomorrow, so t-that y-you c-can-h-uHH-!”

Albedo’s arms feel like lead; he can’t raise them in time to cover his nose and mouth, so he instead ducks his head downwards into the blanket, nose burning - “iiIIHIhihksHHUh-i’kHShuh-hiiuuhh-uh-!!”

He raises his head up again, sniffling. “..so th-that.. snff.. you can leave qu-uickl-yiiiSShh-hi’ksSHHuh-!”

“Albedo. I didn’t mean it like that. You can’t just…” Kaeya sucks in a breath, eyebrows knitted together in concern. “Look, how are you going to make anything if you’re half-dead in a snowstorm? Which you were going to be if I hadn’t…”

His voice trails off. “Point is, you have to take care of yourself. You mean a lot to m- people, as a researcher… and as a friend.”

“I’ll take that into c-consideration.” The words have left a peculiar warmth in his chest, which does more for his cold than the fireplace ever could.

Kaeya smiles, holding a handkerchief to Albedo’s scrunched up nostrils. “Well, for right now… Let me take care of you.”

[obsessedwithkpopfics]

Sickie: Woozi

Caretaker: Hoshi

Hoshi p.o.v

It wasn't often that Woozi was this bad at dancing. Yes, it sounds horrible, but I don't know how else to describe it. It was like he lost all sense of rhythm overnight. It seemed like I wasn't the only one who noticed though because halfway through our practice Chan stopped, "Jihoon hyung, focus!" Woozi didn't even seem to notice he was being spoken to. He continued to stare at the wall as if he was waiting for something to happen. I went over to him, "Jihoon!" I tapped his shoulder. He flinched, and I mentally noted how strange he was acting. He glanced at me, "What's going on? Your moves are so off today." He mumbled an apology. "It's okay, just try and focus better." It seemed like my words weren't going through to him. I looked around at Chan, trying to explain the situation to him. He looked just as confused as I did. "Okay, let's just take a break, everyone take 5."

Woozi p.o.v

Ever since I woke up, I knew it wasn't gonna be a good day though I couldn't quite pinpoint what it was. My head felt stuffy and it seemed difficult to keep my eyes open. Well, I still had to go to practice so I pushed the uneasy feeling to the back of my mind and started getting ready for the day. I internally groaned when Cheol told us we were gonna have a dance practice as well as the group recording today. This day was really not working out for me. Dance practice was pure torture. I managed to annoy even Chan who was known to not get mad no matter how much you mess up the choreography. While he was talking to me possibly about how much I was messing up, I began zoning out. There was an ever-present tickle at the back of my sinuses, and my head was stuffed up making it very difficult to focus. It got to the point where Soonyoung had to come up and tap my shoulder to get my attention. He asked me what was wrong and told me that my moves were off. "I'm sorry," I whispered and I didn't think he could hear. He told me it was fine before announcing to the group to take a break.

I was relieved that Hoshi called for a break because I really needed to blow my nose. Plus another four hours of sleep would be nice, but I'd settle for a tissue right now. I informed Cheol that I had to use the bathroom. I went to the nearest one and took a handful of paper towels and blew my nose. I cringed at the feeling. Glancing at my phone, I realized I had 3 mins left. I blew my nose again and stuffed some tissues into my pocket. Leaving the bathroom, I was about halfway to the practice room when the tickle that had been bothering me all morning decided to fully come out. "Hhktchhu!- Hektchuh!- hh-Hhtkcchu!-"

"Bless you." I flinched at the voice. It was a girl's and it came from behind me. I turned around and saw one of the Le Sserafim members, (Chaewon, I think was her name) "Thank you."

"Are you alright, Sunbaenim? You're kinda pale." She looked concerned. I smiled at the young girl's concern, "Yes, just a cold." She nodded. "Feel better, Sunbae."

"Thank you." She bowed and walked into the bathroom. Once she left, I took a few of the tissues out of my pocket and blew my nose. It was already starting to hurt, the skin around my nose growing raw. I cringed and sniffled one last time before I went back to the practice room.

"You're late," Soonyoung said, his arms crossed over his chest. I glanced at the clock, "By like 1 minute."

"Still." he looked half irritated, half concerned. "Well sorry!" I shook my head, feeling irritated at him. It's just a minute for goodness sake. I rolled my eyes to myself. "This isn't like you Jihoon. You're a lot more serious than this. I don't know what's gotten into you. If you think, just because you write our music, you get to slack off, I'm sorry. In my opinion, everyone here is practicing hard except you and I would like you to be serious." That little speech made me completely lose my patience because frankly, I'd had enough of Soonyoung nagging me that day. "Who the hell gave you the right to decide who's slacking off and who's not?! I may be off today and everyone has those days. Who the fuck are you to nag me about that! Just because you make the choreography doesn't mean you can belittle people who don’t pick up on it quickly. Heck, Chan's definitely a better teacher than you. At least he tries to sympathize with his members, unlike you who's stuck in his own fucking world where everything's perfect. Well, I'm sorry to crush your dreams but everything in this world can't be done according to you!" Every single member went silent and stared at us. Soonyoung's eyes were damp with what looked like tears. I instantly regretted what I said. "Soonyoung-"

"I think we're done for today." he interrupted me, his voice cold. The entire room fell into a heavy and awkward silence. "Let's head back to the dorms," Cheol said, trying to break the awkward atmosphere. The whole group began moving. Little conversations broke out between the members, but Soonyoung remained silent. I went over to him and tapped him on the shoulder. "Soon-"

"Jihoon, I don't really want to talk to you right now and I would like you to respect that." I nodded. I felt guilty, but I couldn't blame him.

On the way to the car, I stopped by the bathroom to blow my nose in private. I felt bad that I had lost my temper like that, I didn't want to make it worse by drawing unnecessary attention to myself.

Hoshi p.o.v

I was hurt, I felt like crying, a bit angry, but above all just confused. I couldn't figure out what I'd done to make Jihoon snap like that. Like, yeah, I was a bit irritated but I didn't think I deserved… all that. This was one of the very few actual fights I had with Jihoon. Sure we bickered sometimes but Jihoon has almost never been this mad at me before. The thought itself made me wanna curl up into a ball and cry. I was very close to Jihoon, and the fight we just had was really breaking my heart. I know he probably didn't mean what he said to me, but a part of me wondered 'what if he did.' I think my obvious hurt and confusion were showing on my face as Cheol came up to me, looking concerned. "What happened back there?" The concern in the leader's voice made my eyes burn with oncoming tears which I quickly blinked back. "I don't know, hyung. I don't know what I did to make him that mad at me." Cheol patted me on the back comfortingly. "You okay?" I nodded, trying to force the tears away. "Maybe you should talk to him?" The leader suggested, "I really don't want to," I admitted quietly, "I understand that but maybe he had a good reason," Cheol said. I nodded, "Is he still here?"

"I think so. Think he's in his studio." I nodded, "So will you talk to him?" Cheol asked as he started leaving the room. "I'll try. Thanks hyung."

"No problem, I just want you guys to figure stuff out. I'd hate to see you guys fight."

"For the record, he started it." Seungcheol shook his head at me, "Just go talk to him," he said, a hint of a laugh in his voice. "The rest of us are heading back to the dorm. It's just you guys." I nodded, "If you need someone to pick you up just let me know and I'll send someone." "Thanks hyung."

"No problem. I gotta go. The others are waiting for me. But you go talk to him." I waved at the leader as he left.

Woozi p.o.v

Even though I was supposed to be heading back to the dorm, I took a detour to my studio. It felt more like home there anyway. There's also the fact that I didn't want to deal with the others just yet. This situation had been hard enough, I didn't need them making it an even bigger deal than it already was. Plus, there was also the fact that I was trying to hide a cold from them which wouldn't go too well, especially with how fast-moving it was. Right now, I could barely see anything as my eyes were watering so much, plus the ever-present tickle in my sinuses. I turned on my computer, in hopes of losing myself in the music when the tickle suddenly decided to make itself known. "Hhkktschu!- 'snf' Hettschu!- Hh..hkhhschu!-"

"Bless you, Jihoon-ah." I flinched at the voice and whipped around and saw Soonyoung standing in the doorway of my studio. "Soonnie I'm sorry," I stood up and walked over to him. "I didn't mean anything I said. And none of it is true. You're not a bad teacher and I know you were just trying to help. I'm really sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me." I was angry at myself as I felt a tear roll down my cheek. I quickly brushed it off, accidentally hitting my nose causing my breath to hitch once again, "HhkTCHhu!- HhtcHshuH!- HhktChHuh!- HhtKKtchu!-" I sniffled, feeling my sneezes get harsher than they were before.

"Bless you and I forgive you. And I'm sorry for losing my patience with you." I stepped closer and hugged him, he seemed a bit surprised, and I couldn't blame him, I wasn't really the clingy type. He let me hug him and wrapped his arms around my waist.

Hoshi p.o.v

Saying I was surprised by Jihoon's hug was an understatement. But what was even more surprising was the noticeable warmth I felt once I was touching him. I immediately placed my palm on his forehead, checking his temperature. "Jihoonie, you're burning up."

"I am? Hadn't realized." Said the producer. I internally groaned. This was so much like Jihoon. Ignoring and hiding any sign of weakness till it gets to this. "Okay, Ji, I need you to tell me how exactly you are feeling. And don’t lie, I can see right through that." I heard him sigh softly. "Okay, I feel awful, my head is stuffed up and I also have a slight headache, I can barely keep my eyes open. I also feel like I'm gonna sneeze any second, and my nose feels like a faucet I can't control." Wow, I didn't expect all that. 'He must have been feeling like this in dance practice too', I thought. No wonder he couldn't keep up with the rhythm if his head was stuffed up and he could barely see through his eyes. And no wonder he was late, he must've been blowing his nose or something as he was determined to hide this from the others. I mentally beat myself up again for getting irritated but Jihoon needed me and I couldn't wallow in self-pity right now. A soft gasp interrupted my thoughts as I looked down and saw Jihoon, his eyes closed, turning away from me, his breath hitching. "Ahh…hhtKSshu!- HhhktsCHuu!- HhHKtshuu!- HhktsCHhu!- Ugh, 'snf'-" I flinched at how harsh his sneezes had become in a matter of minutes, he must be exhausted.

"Bless you, c'mon let's get you home. You need rest, like a lot of it." Jihoon nodded as I took out my phone and called Cheol. He answered the call in about 2 rings. "Hey Soon, what's up?"

"Cheol, could you send one of the members to pick us up? Jihoon's sick." I said, giving Jihoon a quick glance, he looked half asleep already, and knowing Cheol, he probably knew that too. "Sure thing. See you then,"

"Bye," I said and cut the call. "Cheol is sending someone to pick us up," I said, turning to Jihoon.

"I was gonna finish this first though." He said sniffling against his wrist. "Jihoon, you're sick. You need t-"

"HhhktCShhu!- HhkKtcHHu!- HhttTchuH!-"

"Bless you. You need to go home and rest."

"I know. I'm just bad at resting sometimes, " He said, laughing lightly. I sat down next to him and put my arm around his shoulder. "I know. But let me help you relax. You need to rest. You'll never get better if you don't sleep." I handed him a tissue from the box on his desk, he thanked me and blew his nose wetly. I tried not to cringe but it sounded painful and messy. He coughed after, which sounded equally as painful. I patted his back. "You alright?"

"Sick." He said under his breath. I smiled and brushed the hair off of his face, "I know."

Woozi p.o.v

I knew Soonyoung was worried. He didn't show it too much so as not to overwhelm me but I could see that he was worried about me. It made me feel both happy that he cared about me and guilty for bothering him with something so small. He must've seen the change in my expression as he smiled softly, "Hey, it's fine. It's not your fault you're sick and I don't mind taking care of you." I smiled too. In a few minutes, a car had pulled up in front of my studio. "C'mon, let's go." I quickly gathered up my stuff, shut down my laptop and turned off the lights. When we got to the gate, I saw Jeonghan wave at us. I smiled at him slightly. "Hey, Seungcheol said you were sick. How're you feeling?"

"I'm fine, really hyung, it's just a bad- Hhh…hhtKStshuu!- HhkSHtshu!- 'snf' Hhh…hhhtskshCHu!- It's just a bad cold." I said, sniffling, my nose completely rubbed raw by now. "I can definitely see that," Said Jeonghan, patting my arm lightly. "C'mon, let's get you guys home." He said climbing into the car.

Hoshi p.o.v

I got in the back seat of the car and Jihoon climbed in after me. The manager looked in the rearview mirror, "Is he okay?"

"I-

"HhhktCShhu!-HhkKtcHHu!-HhttTchuH!-"

"Bless you, I think he's got a bit of a cold."

"Does he have a fever?" Jeonghan asked from the front. I reached over and placed my hand on his forehead, "Yep, feels like it," I noticed the way that Jihoon leaned into my touch. "We need to get you home and resting, ok." He sniffled, "Sounds good to me." He cleared his throat, "Can I take a nap on the way home?"

"Sure, Ji." I said, softly.

He laid his head on my shoulder and fell asleep quickly.

Once we arrived back at the dorm I gently shook his arm to wake him up. His eyes opened for a second as he looked around in confusion, before they fluttered shut and he ducked his head towards his shoulder. "Hh-ktchUH!-TCchu!-kktCHshu!-tTch!SHhu!-"

"Bless you!" I patted his shoulder. He sniffled and rubbed his eyes. His pink nose and pale skin made him look much younger and even cuter than normal. "Let's get you to bed, Ji," he nodded, attesting even further to how tired he was. "Thank you, Soonie," he said softly as I half carried him to his room, I smiled and kissed his forehead, "No problem. Just want you to feel better. " The two of us made it to his room, and I got him in bed. There was a bit of a struggle to get the half asleep sickie to change out of his sweaty practice clothes. But finally, I got him into his pajamas and into bed. He seemed very dazed as I did so, and when I moved to leave the room, I felt his small fingers wrap around my arm. "Please stay. I don't really want to be alone." I smiled softly. "Sure thing, Ji." I climbed into the bed next to him and allowed him to curl up with me. I smiled and began running my fingers through his hair. "Feel better, Jihoonie."

💖👾

[inevitablemoment]

What Else is There to Do When You're Sick on Valentine's Day?

Word Count: 598

Warnings: Sinus infection, sick character

Fandom: Ghostbusters

Pairings: Egon Spengler x Cathleen Paige Spengler

Did I write this while dealing with a sinus infection of my own? Yes.

Did I write the end bit because I want to imagine what it would be like to meet Jim Henson? Yes.

Enjoy!

————————

Valentine's Day 1988

Cathleen coughed into her elbow, wincing at the feeling deep in her throat. She reached for her glass of water and took a sip; the cold water helped a bit, but not by much. And it still hurt to swallow.

Yesterday, she had hoped that her sinuses would clear up and her throat would stop hurting. But, then again, she had only started her antibiotic two days before, and she had woken up with a sore throat on Wednesday.

She grabbed another tissue to blow her nose as she saw Egon coming in from the kitchen with her dinner-- a bowl of her favorite stew with a plate of saltines on the side. She tightly wrapped her blanket around her as she tried to adjust herself to a sitting position. She considered taking another bath, even if she had taken one earlier that morning.

"Here you go-- careful," Egon advised as he handed the tray to her.

"Thank you," she rasped out.

Immediately, Cathleen took a saltine and dipped it into the stew. The heat soothing on her throat, and she needed her voice to recover as soon as possible.

Egon brushed a few locks of her hair out of her eyes; her hair had become a complete rat's nest in the last couple of days. And the dark circles under her eyes didn't need to confirm to him the rough time that she had getting to sleep. She had to take two Benadryl along with her night dose of antibiotic to knock herself out at night. Her nose was red and irritated, even though he had picked up the tissues with lotion in them. He hated seeing her so miserable.

Cathleen sighed as much as she could with her stuffed-up nose. Egon had sent Callie to stay with Ray because she had been so excited to spend the night at his place while her parents enjoyed Valentine's Day. Besides, Cathleen definitely deserved a kid-free night.

She was a bit relieved when Egon was so insistent that they cancel their Valentine's Day plans and stayed home that night. She felt too woozy and feverish to put on makeup and play dress-up (as much as she loved that). Staying out past midnight did not sound very appealing when she only seemed to be getting three hours of sleep.

Her stomach let out a growl that sounded as pathetic as she felt as she scooped up more of her stew with a cracker. "Egon, I'm sorry that we couldn't go out tonight."

"I don't mind," he assured her. "Even if you weren't sick, I would've been happy to just stay in. I'm just sorry that you're not feeling well."

"Not as sorry as me," Cathleen told him. "I feel like shit."

She held up a finger before grabbing another tissue and sneezing loudly into it, then blowing her nose again. She took another sip of water. She sneezed two more times before looking blearily at her husband.

"You can't possibly find me attractive right now," she said.

"Of course I do," Egon told her. "Cath, you're beautiful, even when you're covered in our daughter's vomit."

She smiled. "That's sweet to hear-- but, also, a little gross."

After Cathleen finished her dinner and Egon washed the dishes, the two of them snuggled on the couch, watching Muppets Take Manhattan.

"Wasn't it nice of Jim Henson to send us this advance copy after we ran into him filming that summer?" Cathleen asked.

Egon smiled. "Cath, we didn't just run into him-- you actively sought out where they were filming."