#I have a little bit of lingering chest congestion/pain

[raeathnos]

.

[lluvguts]

Cool Blue ; Chapter Five

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sneak us through the rivers

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☽ warnings: sexual tension, heat cycle talk, touching

☽ fic masterlist

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Luca slept through Lorenzo's gentle wake-up of kneeling beside the cave bed and prodding one caring hand against his shoulder. Ever since he was a child the action became normalized, with Luca curling around his father's touch along with a quiet yawn and a sleepy lopsided grin at his level eyes. But now, with the blues of his bedroom brightening as the sun hung above their home, he wouldn't budge. Lorenzo cleared his throat and removed his hand from Luca's shoulder for a moment, seeing how his son looked like a stone at the bottom of a river.

"Hey, Luca," Lorenzo rubbed his back. "You slept through the morning chores. I think the goatfish are missing you."

He stirred in the stifling water making his scales feel congested and stiffened when his eyes opened to his father wading next to him. Now that he was awake, the uncomfortable heat radiating off his skin made Lorenzo pull away with a frown.

"Luca, are you okay?"

"Giuseppe?" Luca slurred, disoriented. He rolled onto his other side to face Lorenzo, who was now floating back to the far wall of his room, gingerly tracing the ripples of warm water that chased his movements.

"Daniela!" Lorenzo cast a fearful look to his son then darted from the room. Though Luca's room was separated there was still the mouth of the cave entrance that had no means of a door and allowed Luca's grandmother (or, alternately, anyone) to peek her head inside at Lorenzo's little shout. Daniela soon followed.

"Y-You said he still had a few months!" Lorenzo returned clutching the hand of Daniela, while grandma Paguro trailed behind wordlessly, smirking to herself.

"All I said was that seventeen was the normal time for this, Lorenzo," Daniela said in a frustrated whisper, her dark tail making rivulets in the water.

Luca blinked at the three of them, now in his private space, then growled. He couldn't really stop himself from doing so, he had been sleeping peacefully enough until they all decided to ruin the dream he was having.

Oh, cod. The dreams he'd been having...

Daniela bent down to look Luca in the eyes, taking hold of his shoulder. Luca winced and placed his hand on top of his mother's. She clicked her tongue in response.

"Yep. Scales are hot...He's sensitive to touch...Been sleeping away most of the day already," She murmured more to herself than to her concerned husband.

"Will be be alright?" Lorenzo piped up, leaning toward Luca.

"Oh please, Lorenzo. You went through your heat too, remember?" Daniela sighed and looked back to him with a scowl. Lorenzo flushed and averted his gaze away.

Luca found his voice. "My...what?"

"Your heat cycle," His grandmother added in, being the third and final family member to join Luca at his bedside. She snorted. "It means you're going to be ready to find a mate soon."

"Mother! I said we should ease him into it! Does that sound like easing to you?"

Mate? A mate? Or...mating? He squirmed at the thought.

Three very different pairs of eyes, all holding separate emotions, glimmered back at him. Luca felt their gazes burning into his scales and crawled away from the ledge of the bed to the point where his dorsal fin brushed the rock wall. The stone cave was smooth and cool to the touch. So silky against his tender scales and spines it made that odd pain burst through his abdomen again until it blossomed into an even more peculiar sort of pleasure. It soothed his feverish scales and reminded him of the practiced hands that had been all over him in his dreams, and as his parents argued only inches from his trembling body he bit down on his tongue to keep quiet.

"Are you in pain, Bubble? Where does it hurt?"

"Oh, poor thing, look at him shaking. Great job, Daniela," Luca's grandmother chided with a light chuckle.

Not for what you may think, Luca thought with an internal groan of discomfort.

"What did I do wrong?" Daniela turned to growl at her mother.

"He's your son."

Daniela's tail flicked angrily. "Well what did you do when it was my time, mother?"

The older woman examined her scales, and, without missing a beat, "Sent you out to the breeding grounds. Don't point the claw at me, missy. You and Lorenzo had a fairly nice time."

"Breeding grounds?" Luca shrieked. His back was fully pressed to the cave wall now, to his parents it only confirmed their assumptions on his fear but really Luca was doing it because it felt better than the boiling water around him.

Even the word sounded primitive. Luca had seen--not by choice--a few of the goatfish going through a particular season of...breeding, and if what he'd been forced to watch while sheperding was anything remotely close to how it was for sea folk, he didn't want in on it. Well, he knew how it was for sea folk, of course. Daniela had been hell-bent on initiating that conversation much earlier than Luca would have preferred.

"Can we talk about this later?" Luca begged, sliding back down onto his kelp bed with his claws raked through the fins on his head. "Please? I just want to go back to sleep."

"Go back to sleep?" Lorenzo chuckled. "Son, you've been sleeping this whole time--"

"Oh, nonsense," Daniela put her hand on Lorenzo's snout, quieting him. "He'll need all the rest he can get if he really is in heat. Besides, it'll keep him away from the neighbor's. I think they have a young girl around Luca's age, and that's the last thing we need."

"Uh, I'm right here?" Luca said angrily. His whole body felt like it was spinning on a wheel of emotions with no axis, just one blending into the other.

Lorenzo gave Luca a sympathetic smile before he was pulled away by grandma Paguro into the cave channel outside his room.

"Don't worry Lu," Daniela took hold of both Luca's hands, squeezing them. "This'll all be over in a few weeks."

"But," Luca looked to her algae dress swaying with the water, feeling his face warm up. "You're saying that...all of these things I'm feeling are just because of the heat?"

"Yes, baby." She tapped the back of his hand reassuringly. "I know it's confusing, but I promise after you get just a little bit more rest, we can explain it later. Okay, Bubble?"

Luca had a million things to say, and he wanted to say them now. He wanted to tell his mother that he thought he was going crazy because he'd had the best and most vivid dreams of his entire life. Well, maybe not say exactly that, but it was definitely up there. Or the fact that every time he moved, a starburst of pain cramped in his stomach, low and threatening, but all that came with it were thoughts dirtier than the time uncle Ugo decided to make whale for dinner. He wasn't supposed to think things that vile!

And, most of all, the beautiful land monster boy he'd met at the cove. With his tanned skin that reminded Luca of the tender underside of the brown conch shells he used to collect. And the sun kisses on his skin! Each one like a splash of color gifted from the fish in the sky! His eyes, bright expectant shards of sea glass Luca wished he could touch. Alberto, marvelous and witty, painting the rocks that lined the pool at the cove. Luca, marveled and wincing with feeling. Just thinking about him made his stomach ache. It made him ache all over. But it wasn't a sorrowful, sore pain.

It was an ache of need. Of want. Once his train of though passed through thinking innocently of Alberto's kind eyes and lopsided grin, it focused more heavily on the way Alberto bit his lip and the lean muscles that made up his body until he had to catch his breath because his mother couldn't catch him like this.

So all Luca did was nod at his Daniela's words, all worked up again, and wave weakly as she swam out of his room.

He fell back onto the bed, chest heaving.

This was impossible. And she had said it was going to last weeks?

"Oh, sharks. I'm so dead," Luca groaned, digging the flat part of his hand to his belly. He traced one of his gills with his eyes closed, savoring the feeling and the memories of the night before. Luckily for him, the entrance to his bedroom was facing out into the hallway, where there was only silence.

A considerable amount of silence.

Then an idea broke through his hazy thoughts of Alberto. Luca flipped himself over and swam to the mouth of the cave, glancing at either side of the hallway. No one was in the rooms beside him, and from the eerie quiet they all must have left the house so he could sleep.

Guilty bile rose in his throat, but Luca didn't care. There was no feasible way he was falling asleep. He checked the hallway one more time before taking an old blanket made of sea moss and throwing it on top of his bed, along with stuffing a few lumpy pieces of coral he'd stashed away underneath that until it formed a lumpy version of himself under the covers.

He didn't believe that what was burning in his chest for Alberto was just because of some stupid sea monster thing.

/ / /

"Alberto! How are you already here?" Luca popped his head out from under the still water to stare at his friend. "I didn't think you'd be wandering around."

When Luca had snuck back to the wide rock opening to the cove underwater, he could already smell Alberto from above. His salty scent, mixed with other delicious things too overpowering for his sensitive nose, but he could find it anywhere. There was a sweetness lingering in Alberto's scent, it was honey and flower petals.

Alberto smiled apologetically with his hands on the straps of his bag. "I wasn't wandering around. I came to see you." He undid the latch on his bag, the very one where all of the fun paint colors came out of if Luca was correct, and produced a towel. Luca's brows were pulled low as he watched from the edge as Alberto crouched down to him and dunked it into the water.

"What're you doing?" Luca pointed at the towel, once light and radiating weird land monster smells but was now dull and soaking in sea water.

Alberto's face went pink, a color Luca loved looking at, and shrugged. "I, uh, thought that this might help with the sun." He knelt down on his bare knees and draped the dripping towel across Luca's shoulders. "You can come out of the water now. Now it shouldn't hurt as much."

Alberto helped Luca up until they were both sitting, cross-legged, staring at each other. The towel was heavy with the weight of the water around him, but was nice against his scales. He pinched the corners of the towel and nestled deeper inside of it.

"Thank you," Luca whispered with dark cheeks. When he looked at Alberto now the words mate and heat and breeding grounds appeared in his head unannounced and his skin crawled with the indecision of everything spinning around him.

"You good, Luca?" Alberto leaned closer toward him, growing concerned. Luca wanted to smack him, with his face inches from his nose the stench, albeit a lovely one, rippling off his tan skin was too much. They were things Luca did not know the names for in the human world, but all the same he smelled intoxicating.

Luca took in a deep breath, his gills still clogged with sea water, and nodded uneasily. "Is it okay if I try something?" He rushed to ask in his preheat, head-pounding state.

"Uh, okay?" Alberto sat back normally. "Are you gonna take me to Atlantis or something? Hate to break it to you, Luca. I might be an expert at swimming but I don't think I can breathe underwater like you."

The arrogance rolled off Alberto in waves, and Luca fought to keep his head steady.

"No! That's not what I meant! It's not even called Atlantis, you know. And if I wanted to take you, the water pressure is too deep for your ears. You'd probably die or something."

"Then what did you mean?"

Luca scooted closer, claws still gripping the towel like a cape. "Sorry, it's just that...you're the only land monster I've seen. Ever. So, like, there's a lot of weird things about you that I need to know about."

Alberto snorted. He placed his arms behind his back and looked to Luca with a glint of a challenge in his eyes. "Like what?"

"Like your stubby claws, for one." Without hesitation Luca grabbed for one of Alberto's hands, crawling to sit beside him and examined his fingers and nails chewed down to tiny stubs. "They're so weird. You can't do anything with these."

Alberto only watched with a smug look to conceal his awe.

"I'm gonna skip the whole no-tail thing," Luca continued, scanning Alberto's body. He drank in his skin and the shiny stuff that looked like water beading along his temple and around his tank top. It seemed cool, and he wanted to touch it but he kept his hand back.

"Alright, have you had your fun already? I know I'm not as amazing as you are," Alberto asked while Luca crawled closer to pat his fluffed up curls. "Not everyone can be a sea monster."

"Okay, now this is weird," Luca commented on Alberto's messy hair. His hands moved slowly to his forehead, checking to see Alberto's flat expression when his claws grazed the sides of his face.

"...What?" Alberto asked, leaning closer. "So, you're touching my face?"

Luca blushed and let his hands rest on each side of his jaw, holding him in place. "You don't, uh, feel anything?" If he could only slip his fingers beneath Alberto's ears...that was the most delicate part. That was where he'd scent him.

His breath hitched, and all he'd done was touch his cheeks. Scent him? He couldn't, he wasn't a sea monster. But...something in him wanted to. It really, really did.

"Am I supposed to feel something else? All I feel are your slimy paws on my face."

Luca hissed playfully. "Slimy? It's a natural coating. I'd dry up out here if I didn't have it...And they aren't paws, Alberto. They're hands just like yours."

"My fingers aren't webbed." Alberto held up one hand to make his point.

"Whatever."

"Why are you asking anyway?"

"Because," Luca let his gaze drift over Alberto's face, shiny with sweat and dotted in freckles. "Because it's supposed to, uh--"

"Does it...feel differently for you?" Alberto stared with new knowledge at Luca's face. "Is that why?"

Luca couldn't breathe. He only nodded. Alberto registered the breath Luca was holding, his yellow eyes wide and pupils blown.

"Ah, okay," Alberto whispered. He sat up straighter and lifted one hand off the grass, placing it directly on Luca's cheeks, his thumbs just grazing the base of his audial fins. His thumb and index fingers gently took hold of them, feeling their slippery texture almost in the way Alberto might relish in the softness of velvet. His touch was soft, tentative and curious but most of all wholly him.

All of the sea water that was dripping down Luca's face had dried up, and in its place was the shock that Alberto was touching him, not just touching his hand or his shoulder, but his hands were--

He couldn't even finish his line of thought. When he was touching him, the pain that had pooled in his stomach lightened. But it didn't stop the tingling that spread all through his legs and up his spine.

Alberto hummed his interest, gauging Luca's pinched face for any sort of reaction, before letting his wonder get the best of him as he slipped his fingers behind his fins, just above his gills.

"Hmm," Eyes shining, dark pools leaving Luca helpless as to what Alberto was doing. "These gills are interesting. They don't feel like the normal ones you see on a fish or a shark. You know, my Papa taught me all about marine biology, but maybe it's a bit different in your case. Though this seems to be the same..."

To refer his point Alberto ran his index finger in a slow, agonizing circle there on his skin.

A pathetic little purr rose in Luca's throat, and he hurried to correct his mistake by slapping his hand over his mouth.

He spoke around his own hand covering his lips. "Mngh! I'm sorry! I just! You're--"

Alberto shushed him and peeled Luca's hand away. "S'okay. Sensitive, huh? I guess I didn't think of that."

Luca bit his lip and nodded, clamping his tongue between his teeth. "Very."

His gaze lightened a bit, flicking over to Luca's cheeks tinged a deep, flushed blue. He let his eyes roam down to his throat, where he could see his frantic pulse beating away, trying to keep himself under control. And, finally, to the dappled line of brighter, more opalescent scales that trailed down Luca's waist until they disappeared into the hem of his mossy shorts.

Luca knew those what those markings on his skin were, such a light blue it teetered on the edge of pink.

They were signs of a sea monster in heat.

Luca swallowed hard, his throat much too dry, while Alberto's green eyes soaked him up. Alberto's next words were chosen carefully, softly spoken, barely a puff of electric air around his warm scales. When did they get so close?

"Is it...a bad sensitive?" Alberto pressed, genuinely interested, and lifted the pressure of his hands off of Luca's gills. "Or a good one?"

Luca snapped his jaws tight, he could feel the blood drumming in his throat at that. Somehow he found himself drifting to Alberto for the curve of his chest, both arms on him created a little curve for Luca to hide in. His heady scent drove him further, enough to rest his temple on Alberto's collarbones, lungs burning to keep his breathing normal. Alberto stiffened around Luca's touch, but only for a moment. He sighed and his fingers resumed their teasing touches along his neck.

"A g-good one," Luca breathed out. That painful burn pooled in his stomach, making those pink scales itch and Luca couldn't help but put his hand there on his belly to suppress the cramping. But that wasn't all that was bothering him. He realized, as the pads of Alberto's fingers pressed on his gills, on his scent glands, a warm pleasure bubbled up like molten honey hidden in his shorts, and he knew he had to scoot away before it was too late.

What would he think of him then?

That he was just some gross, horny little fish seeking comfort from everything that didn't make sense and find the answers in the arms of a boy?

But Alberto wasn't just some boy, Luca chided himself. As much as he wanted to side with the rational portion of his brain the other, more primal parts of him knew that there was someone here, there was a boy here, in his space.

A strong, tall boy who had his arms wrapped around him and could probably smell the heat on him.

But that boy also was so tantalizingly close, the dull ache in Luca's stomach erupted when he buried his face into the crook of Alberto's neck. Alberto's scent changed in an instant. A deeper, muskier smell that had a spike of fear that dissipated in an instant. He growled, and nudged his nose up to the base of Alberto's jaw, tasting his richness in the air.

Luca's tail whipped out from behind him and latched onto Alberto's bare ankle, tugging lightly and flaring up his fins to display. He would make such a good mate, Luca thought deliriously, letting his mouth part. He would leave such lovely marks on his skin to show for it.

"Luca, are you alright?" Alberto tensed, and his grip on Luca loosened.

Luca wriggled uncomfortably with the heat that trembled and throbbed between his legs, opening his mouth poised on Alberto's neck, only thinking of the blood rushing through him and the need to be full. His teeth kissed the sweat on Alberto's neck, and Luca let out a whimper in surprise.

"So pretty...you smell so good, Alberto." Luca mused. The heat wasn't allowing him to think clearly anymore, his head was muddled with Alberto's scent and the overarching desire to claim him. He rose off his knees, while Alberto held his breath in confusion, and Luca pressed his full weight onto Alberto in one sloppy motion. His hips stuttered as they met Alberto's waist, relieved to have some friction, and Luca already knew the other boy could feel what had been dripping there. "P-Please, I need you."

Alberto gasped and shoved him off, harshly. Luca fell back into the hot grass, the towel around his shoulders stank of mildew and heat. He blinked back at Alberto, who was scrambling up on his feet, chest rising in uneven bursts of air. As he stood he blocked the sun and his entire front half was bathed in shadow. But the absence of the sun did not hide the blush that blistered along Alberto's nose, not a delicate rose in bloom but like an aggressive blaze that colored its path. So much that it reached the tips of his ears.

Neither spoke for minutes. Both breathing heavy, one in shock and the other in embarrassment, sweat dripping from their skin. Alberto felt the spot Luca had left on his neck, then shuddered when he saw the unhinged glint in Luca's yellow eyes.

"I'm sorry...I can't control it," Luca whispered. His breath caught on the wind, raw with shame and a tumult of conflicting emotions, and he wouldn't be surprised if Alberto didn't hear him.

Alberto took another step back when Luca crawled out of the towel and went to the edge of the pool. "What do you mean you can't control it? What the hell were you even going on about?"

Luca, eyes streaming, slipped into the water without a sound. The cool waves lapped at his hot scales and they soothed him, but only on the outside. There was something twisting around inside of him that wouldn't go away, even if he wanted it to.

He couldn't control the way he felt.

He glanced over his shoulder before murmuring. "I'm in heat."

[kstewdeux]

Tumblr Exclusive For No Raisins

Five Stages of Grief

Struggling to breathe, Inuyasha clutched Kagome’s battered body tightly against his chest - one hand pressing against the wound on her back while the other pressed her ever colder hand against his heart. This was his fault. Completely his fault. That attack had been thrown and he ducked without taking into account the miko’s position. By the time he realized where she was, there was no time to take the hit for her and...and...

“You’re okay” Inuyasha choked as tears streamed down his cheeks and he buried his face in Kagome’s blood soaked hair, “You’ll be fine. It’s just...it’s just a flesh wound. Nothing deep. Just...just stay with me, huh?”

A whine escaped him as the scent of death began creeping into her scent. With trembling hands, he had tended to her wounds as best as he could but it wasn’t enough. At a certain point, he could barely feel his own fingers and every clumsy attempt to stitch up the numerous wounds wound up hurting her more. It wasn’t like this was his first time tending an injury that way. He’d done it thousands of times on himself with even cruder implements than what his miko carried with her from the future but his hands wouldn’t cooperate just like everything else in his body. Amber eyes - usually able to see every blade of grass - could barely see what they were doing. His lungs were barely taking in air and it took everything he had left in him not to simply pass out.

So he stopped trying since all he was doing was making her worse. Oh, he applied bandages and ointments and forced her to swallow those fever pills but she was bleeding out before his very eyes. There was nothing he could do for her. He had failed her in every possible way and now all he could do was pray.

To add insult to injury, the smell of graveyard soil had been steadily growing stronger over the last agonizing hour. Kikyo knew. She knew Kagome was dying.

“You can’t have her,” Inuyasha spat hatefully as the last person he wanted to see came into view, “She’s going to be fine. You’ll see. So...so you can’t take her soul. I won’t...I won’t let you.”

Closing his eyes, Inuyasha tried to find the will to stand and fight but it simply wouldn’t come. With Kagome slipping through his fingers so too did his own desire to live to see another day. He didn’t want to go back to a world without his miko in it. He simply wouldn’t survive.

Squeezing Kagome’s hand as tightly as he dared, Inuyasha tried to muster up more strength from the simple touch to no avail. So he restorted to desperately clutching her to him with both hands like he could hold in her soul through that action alone. The motion aggravated her wounds but with as far gone as his miko was in that moment, she didn’t even react and that sent his panic to all new heights.

“How was she hurt?” came Kikyo’s softly spoken reply and Inuyasha shook his head - burying his nose into ebony locks as his own heart struggled to beat. The scent of Kagome’s impending death was suffocating.

“Inuyasha look at me,” the undead miko commanded in a gentler tone than he’d heard in quite some time. When he merely whined and more tears fell, Kikyo tried to cross the distance between them but stopped at the menacing growl he used to warn her.

“You can’t have her,” Inuyasha managed shakily as he clutched Kagome tighter still. Like the action itself would keep the soul inside its vessel, “She’s mine. She’s mine and I promised...I promised to protect her.”

His voice cracked on that last word and the undead miko felt her unbeating heart crack at the sound.

“She needs new bandages,” Kikyo sighed, “And you’re in no state to...”

“Don’t touch her!” Inuyasha barked as yet more tears fell - one clawed hand blindly swiping to maintain distance through intimidation, “Stay...stay back. I’m warning you!”

Kikyo took another step and Inuyasha’s face contorted in pure unbridled rage.

“Take one step closer and I’ll destroy you,” the hanyou snarled between clenched teeth as his eyes flashed red, “I said you can’t have her bitch so back the fuck up!”

Kikyo let out another sigh before glancing at her soul collectors who nodded subtly and began gliding towards the grieving half-demon who watched with somewhat panic stricken eyes as they moved closer.

“Get those things away from me!” Inuyasha snapped desperately as he tried to get to his feet but any strength he had had long since fled his body, “What...what about you can’t have her did you not understand?!”

“Inuyasha I’m not going to...”

It was becoming terrifyingly obvious that something was wrong with him. Despite his best efforts, his body wouldn’t cooperate and every attempt to scramble to his feet and run resulted in his crumpling to the ground. His worthless ass couldn’t protect her.

He already failed but....

“If...if you need to take someone take me,” Inuyasha bargained desperately as one soul collector gently wrapped around his elbow and his body suddenly wasn’t his own. His grip weakened and he watched with heartbroken eyes as another soul collector wrenched Kagome from his arms, “I’ll go with you. I swear I’ll go with you. You can kill me or...or do whatever. I don’t care. Just...just don’t...”

A soft cry escaped him as Kikyo knelt down beside the one person who made his life worth living and gently rested one hand on Kagome’s stomach.

“Kikyo please....please don’t hurt her,” Inuyasha begged miserably as the soul collector immobilizing him pinned both arms behind his back. Kikyo was going to make him watch?! Didn’t she see he was already broken enough already? Why...why destroy him completely? What would be the point?! Did she really hate him that much? He...he’d never done anything to her. Defended her even at the expense of his own happiness. Even though it killed him inside. Every time he returned he had to face the betrayal in Kagome’s eyes which was more painful than any injury he’d received. Ruined every chance he had to be loved for the sake of someone who wanted nothing more than to make him suffer. Hadn’t he done enough? Sacrificed enough?

Inuyasha closed his eyes and willed his heart to give out. He couldn’t watch this. Another tear slipped free.

“These wounds are deep,” he heard Kikyo hum in a worried voice, “The stitches are too loose. Do you have more thread?”

Letting out a shaky breath, watery amber eyes slowly opened to find Kikyo looking at him expectantly.

“I’m not going to hurt her. I want to help,” Kikyo informed him in a slightly chiding tone before adding quickly, “Kagome is essential to defeating Naraku.”

Exhaling slowly, Inuyasha bit back tears as he tried to find his voice but failed. Kikyo gave him a strangely sympathetic look before glancing at the yellow monstrosity Kagome called a backpack and nodding to one of her soul collectors who clumsily tugged it closer.

Inuyasha felt his soul curl up and die as Kikyo began rummaging through the bag. This was a trick. Make him think she was there to help and then do something awful when his guard was down. There would be no holding Kagome one last time. No ability to say goodbye. She’d leave this world never knowing....never knowing how much he loved her. Swallowing thickly, Inuyasha tried to find the courage to say what needed to say before it was too late but his fear that Kikyo would make Kagome’s death more painful stilled his tongue. Two more tears trailed down his cheeks as he tried to remember how to breathe. Kagome had made him believe, if only for a little while, that he could be something more. That he had worth in his ability to protect and care for others but everyone was right about him. He had failed the one person in the world who thought differently of him from the very start. He was every bit the worthless half-breed everyone had always told him he was. Maybe he should’ve been drowned at birth.

It didn’t even register with him that Kikyo was, in fact, helping. Years of sewn distrust blinded him to the possibility that things were not as dire as they appeared. Whether Kikyo was helping or not, though, the scent of death lingered.

Letting out a shuddering breath, Inuyasha tried to struggle against the invisible bonds as his hardwired instinct to protect Kagome finally kicked in. It had shriveled up and died for a brief moment out of a belief that it was too late to do anything but now that the world has shown him once and for all things could always be worse, the instinct came back full force.

“Stop moving so much,” Kikyo sighed as she continued stitching the unconscious miko’s wounds, “You’ll aggravate your wounds.”

Inuyasha, of course, didn’t even know he was injured so that comment went right over his head. It hadn’t even registered that he also had been the victim of a direct hit that had shredded his fire rat robes and that half the blood that drenched Kagome was his own. Inuyasha honestly placed absolutely no value on his own life and the undead miko sighed sadly at that realization as she finished her task before reaching for the bottle labeled disinfectant. Which by the smell of it would probably hurt quite a good bit once applied.

Kikyo flicked her gaze up at the utterly heartbroken and obviously struggling boy watching with agony riddled eyes for just a moment before deciding she could multi-task.

“Inuyasha fear not. I have no intention of letting her die,” the undead miko began softly before looking at the spray bottle with a confused, appraising eye, “You must calm yourself.”

Again, Kikyo underestimated how very far gone Inuyasha was in that moment. His mind filled with panic induced static that was only growing thicker by the moment. Inuyasha was incapable of hearing anything outside of his own heart pounding in his normally sensitive ears. Breathing had gone completely by the wayside for more reasons than one and kiss goodbye his sense of smell with how congested his nose had become. The slow trickle of blood leaking out of the corner of his mouth was flowing completely unnoticed as his vision blurred and his head lolled. The effort he was expending tried to break free was dimming and his body was refusing to cooperate.

“Set him down,” Kikyo ordered softly as she spritzed the sanitizer a few times and hummed in understanding, “But be careful. Don’t aggravate his wounds.”

Inuyasha felt his body being laid out as he continued watching Kikyo do whatever the hell she was doing. Kagome was so close. If he could move, he could almost reach out and touch her. The undead miko glanced up then followed his gaze with a sad little smile before reaching over, grasping his hand and pulling it a hair away from Kagome’s wrist. Taking the miko’s wrist then Kikyo placed it atop his palm before helping curl his fingers around the thin flesh so his thumb lay just over her vein.

“Can you feel her heartbeat?” Kikyo asked softly as Inuyasha looked up at her with unfocused amber eyes before those same eyes lowered to where his hand was curled around Kagome’s wrist. For a moment he didn’t react at all before a shuddering sigh of relief gave her the answer he couldn’t give out loud. The steady thrum under his fingertips brought him comfort that couldn’t be voiced with words. At least he’d be with her at the end. Small comfort though that was. Maybe he’d be lucky enough to die soon so they’d be born together in the next life. That would be alright. To find out that soul and him really did have a destiny. Just wrong time and place this go ‘round. Vision blurring Inuyasha closed his eyes and focused on Kagome’s weakening pulse.

“It’s okay ‘Gome,” Inuyasha mumbled tiredly as another tear snaked down his dirtied cheek, “Its okay...”

It had to be several hours later that Inuyasha slowly regained consciousness even though his eyes stubbornly refused to cooperate. He was cocooned in something warm and soft. There was a pleasant pressure running along the front of his body too that one arm seemed to be keeping in place. Kagome was nearby, though, which meant he was being protected and cared for. And...and...

Oh no. Ooooh no. Nope. Not good. Definitely bad.

With a painful sounding groan, Inuysha finally forced his eyes open and nearly died on the spot. A short distance away a calm, indifferent looking Kikyo sat petting her soul collector while her two weird child minions maintained a barrier that surrounded him. As for the pressure against his front, one glance down told him that it was a pajama clad Kagome spooned up against his bare chest while the warmth came from the sleeping bag they’d both been stuffed into.

The rest of that day crashed down onto him moments later.

“Shit,” Inuysha breathed as he suddenly buried his nose into Kagome’s hair and inhaled deeply before whining in relief when the scent of death couldn’t be found. A tear welled in the corner of his eye as he squeezed the miko to him as tightly as he dared. He could smell the somewhat fresh blood from her stomach wound even now and...and his own dried blood? Had he been hurt too? He hadn’t noticed...

“Once you were both stabilized, I had my soul collectors arrange you this way,” Kikyo explained impassively as she glanced over at him, “It seemed the logical thing to do.”

Inuyasha set his jaw - nose remaining in Kagome’s hair as amber eyes watched the undead miko wearily. Had Kikyo been trying to help him? That seemed so absurd he didn’t even know where to start.

For some reason, this was the moment he suddenly remembered that Kagome hadn’t been wearing pajamas. And it would appear his undergarments were gone. His eyes widened in horror for a moment before he pushed that thought as far back in his mind as it would go. W-who cared it Kikyo saw them both naked? That didn’t bother him. Nope. Didn’t bother him at all. It was...

This was fine. Fine. An absolutely fantastic turn of events that wouldn’t keep him awake at night due to the crushing awkwardness. The only solace he could find was that Kikyo may have done a mortifying thing but it was done in the course of a not shitty thing so...

The fact that she had done such a thing when both he and Kagome were unconscious did seem to be the thing that convinced him Kikyo didn’t actually mean them harm. She’d had ample opportunity to kill them. They’d both been so far gone the jostling that must have occurred didn’t even wake them.

That didn’t help the blush on his cheeks or the mortification he felt - although the utter relief he felt that Kagome was alive muted both negative emotions considerably.

“Why help her?” Inuyasha asked suspiciously as his hand slid up to pull Kagome’s torso more fully against him.

“Kagome is essential to defeating Naraku,” Kikyo explained before smiling faintly and running one hand across a nearby silver serpent, “And if something were to happen to her, someone I know would be very sad.”

“What?”

Kikyo subtly nodded to herself as she realized that statement went completely over his head. Of course he wouldn’t understand the significance of her repeating back those words Kagome had said to her. Her reincarnation sheltered him from the ugliness of the world and if he had known that he almost lost both of them....

It made all the sense in the world to keep what happened that day a secret. Inuyasha had always been an anxious creature and at that time, he was endlessly torn. Kikyo wasn’t a stupid woman. She knew Kagome hadn’t admitted what should have been obvious. That day that seemed so long ago, it had been Kikyo’s intention to kill the competition and yet her reincarnation refused to say as much. This strange girl made it her job to protect Inuyasha from threats real or imagined. To shelter him from ugly truths he was ill equipped to handle like how the woman he still adored was now a being of evil. Kagome loved him for the good man he was and made it her mission in life to convince him to love himself. A strange girl made for an equally strange boy.

“When I was dying, Kagome risked her life to save mine. On more than one occasion,” Kikyo interrupted vaguely as she looked up into the starry sky, “It seemed only right to repay the favor.”

Inuyasha considered this before relaxing somewhat and rearranging to rest his cheek on Kagome’s hair with his eyes partially closed. It was still insanely hard to focus and his head felt ridiculously heavy for no reason. Still, Kagome was alright and that’s really what mattered.

“I love her you know so...so thank you I guess,” Inuyasha mumbled cautiously as he inhaled deeply and relished in the knowledge that Kagome would live.

“I believe that has been made abundantly clear,” Kikyo admitted with a humorless laugh.

Inuyasha snorted softly but didn’t bother arguing. Whether or not Kagome loved him in return was a question he’d prefer to explore with literally anyone else. Hell, he’d even ask Naraku for his thoughts on the matter before he’d ever try to talk about that remote possibility with Kikyo.

“Thank you,” Inuyasha mumbled after a long period of awkward silence, “For saving her. I...I don’t know what I would’ve done if...if...”

The half-demon couldn’t even finish that statement as visions of him permanently turning into a full demon and wreaking havoc across the land entered his minds eye. In his heart of hearts, he knew what he would’ve done. He would’ve gone insane. Just would’ve lost his damn mind and ran around killing people for no...

“It was the least I could do,” Kikyo sighed as she glanced over at the injured pair, “I will protect you until dawn and then I must leave. I believe you will have healed enough by then to take Kagome to a second location.”

Inuyasha nodded against Kagome’s hair as he gave the living, breathing, not dying miko as light squeeze. Of all the things that had ever happened to him, not one had been as terrifying as that morning. He needed to be more careful in the future. Be more aware during battle. Or, alternatively, he could just throw Kagome down the well and destroy it so this would never happen again. That was definitely an attractive option.

“I know you are a man of few words,” Kikyo offered barely above a whisper, “But perhaps it is time you told her. I have no intention of dragging you away from her. You have done enough.”

Inuyasha wrinkled his nose at that comment but otherwise stayed silent and nodded. Truth be told, holding Kagome against him was rather nice even if his undead typically murderous ex-fiancé was watching. If he didn’t just say screw it and throw Kagome down the well, he might insist they do this more often. If, of course, Kagome woke up and discovered he was holding her. What he’d do if he managed to pull this off without her knowing was an issue for a different day.

“I love you,” Inuyasha whispered in Kagome’s ear as he settled into a somewhat more comfortable position and nuzzled the skin just above her jaw. The warmth and contentment flowing through his veins soon rocked him to sleep and for the first time in his life, Inuysha slept well.

Kikyo watched on with a melancholy sigh as Inuyasha subconsciously snuggled up against his miko in his sleep.Yes, she was a creature born of evil. Yes, she had made many, many mistakes since she’d been so rudely brought back to life. And yes, her feelings toward the injured half-demon consisted of a mixture of love and hate. But something about his scream this night had triggered something she didn’t know she still possessed. A part of herself all but forgotten. She’d literally flown most of the distance toward him and walked the rest. Cautiously, of course. There most certainly a risk he would strike her down and honestly, she wouldn’t blame him.

When she opened her eyes that fateful day, she’d been in denial over so many things. Mind bucking against his insistence that he had nothing to do with her demise. That she had been cursed into this half-life consisting of little more than pain and misery.

Naturally what followed was unbridled rage at the world. Of course, everyone with eyes knew where that path had led her. 

After the anger had subsided, more or less, she’d began to plead with any god who would listen. Obsessed with the desire to return to the ground from whence she came, defeating Naraku became her number one priority. She promised to kill the wicked Onigumo - not out a warped sense of duty but rather because she hoped and prayed that by doing so, she would be freed from this hell. Maybe even gain the affection she once had and even be accepted by the people who once loved her. Inuyasha was a lost cause by that point but Kaede...

Kaede may forgive her yet.

It was the realization that it would be impossible to defeat Naraku on her own and thus not win any favors from the powers that be or forgiveness from her sister that brought her crashing back down to earth. Numb to the world around her,  she no longer cared what happened to her or anyone else. No longer cared whether Naraku won or lost. Yes, she still wanted to be the one who killed that horrid beast but...but she knew...she knew that she would not be there to witness her former love’s victory of defeat. There would be no redemption for her. There was no point even trying to do more than just wander aimlessly and help on occasion if she was in the mood to do so. By and large, however, she didn’t do anything productive any longer.

That was, until today. Something about Inuyasha’s anguished cry made something in her snap. It was the sound of a heart breaking with such devastating force that the world itself stood still. Never, never should he be allowed to make such a sound. Bygones being bygones, Kikyo was determined to stop whatever was the source of his pain. It was unacceptable in her mind for whatever reason.

And with this action, she accepted that this was her fate. Such a bizarre thing to realize at the end of an era. There was no one still living who loved her any longer.

She was truly alone.

“Kikyo,” Inuyasha muttered in a concerned tone as his amber eyes blinked open, “I didn’t know you could cry anymore. What’s wrong?”

Or maybe not.

“You must be imagining things,” Kikyo lied smoothly as she stared into the distance, “Such a thing is impossible.”

“Yeah okay,” Inuyasha snorted softly as he settled back down. A few moments passed before he cleared his throat and offered something he hoped brought the undead miko some peace, “Kaede’s been asking about you.”

Kikyo subtly furrowed her brow and glanced in his direction.

“Why do you say such a thing?”

“There are people who still care about you,” he continued hesitantly, “Just because I don’t love you like that anymore doesn’t mean I still don’t love you as a friend. Kaede I know misses the hell outta ya. Go see her. Old bat’d love a visit.”

Kikyo’s lips twitched upwards as she nodded and sighed.

“That was unkind,” she chided gently, “You should not speak of your elders that way.”

“I knew her when she was a brat and I’m still older than her. I can call her whatever the hell I want,” Inuyasha laughed good-naturedly as he settled back down and gave Kagome’s still form a light squeeze before frowning suddenly and clearing his throat to make a peace offering, “Just...just so you know I’m sorry for what happened. Back then I mean. I should’ve known. I should’ve....”

“It was a very convincing plot,” Kikyo interrupted, “And exposed issues that were already present. I failed you more than you have ever failed me.”

“Is that why you helped Kagome?” Inuyasha asked hesitantly and the undead miko shrugged slightly.

“To be honest I do not know why I assisted,” she lied, “This existence is most strange.”

“I bet,” Inuyasha acknowledged wearily before furrowing his brow, “Does it hurt?”

“This form?”

Inuyasha nodded.

“Not any longer.”

[greatcheesiness]

Heartbreak

Pairing: Ex-Husband!Atsumu x reader

Genre: Angst, sad

Words: 1.3k (pretty short)

Warnings: NSF- nah i’m just kidding xd, mentions of death

Completed: 20/10/2020 01:56

A/n: Umm, this is my first story on tumblr. So bear with me if it’s bad. I’ll try my best to improve in the future. Needed to vent so I wrote this for my favorite character Atsumu (that many seem to dislike 0.0) I hope you enjoy the story tho! It’s a bit short and it’s like almost two in the morning. I wish I could go into more detail on Miya’s perspective *smiles cheerfully*

~_~

Your eyes fluttered opened and the constant beep of the heart monitor continued. You lifted your trembling arms to your face. The crustiness from excess mucus, dried tears and exfoliated skin were irritating your vision. You blinked a couple of times to feel the comfort of opening your eyes again. 

Suddenly, a light knock was heard before someone gained entry into your bleached scent room. It was a young nurse who took care of you for the past couple of months. Such a delightful lady taking her job as if it came natural to her. “Good morning Mrs Miya. How are you feeling today?” she asked as she pushed a tray filled with medications and medical equipment. We’re doing this again aren’t we?

“I woke up just now so I don’t know how I’m feeling right now…”.The nurse’s eyes softened at your response. Silence set between the both of you verbally and only the sound of the nurse handling little boxes of pills was heard. Your orbs lingered at the lady. She faced you and ambled towards you with a cup of water in hand as well two pills.

“It’s time to take your medication Mrs Miya” she smiled caringly. You sighed as you received them. You popped the pills into your mouth and drank the cup of water. She waited patiently. After you finished, both of ye did a few things after. It was the same old thing scheduled almost every day. A typical day of an old woman with a heart disease.

Now you were left alone in your box-shaped room. There was no presence besides yourself. You felt so isolated and no doubt, an emotion of loneliness lingered in the chambers of your heart. That didn’t help your heart condition you admit. You exhaled. You could still taste the remaining of the med. Tasted bitter as the bitter life you had. You could endure it. No problem.

People say, if you go to the hospital, you’ll get better and better as days pass by. If only it could apply the same to you. You weren’t getting better. You just felt constant. Even worse, you felt as if your chances of living were decreasing as each day passed. You smirked. The wrinkles formed around your eyes and lips. After all, you’re just a test subject. You only realized that what the nurse gave was a placebo.

Suddenly, you started to cough. Your weak bony arms stabilized your upper body as you kept expelling sudden air from your weak lungs. Your eyes were closed shut and little tears threatened to spill out. “It hurts. It hurts a lot…” you managed to mutter. You clenched your hands and lightly tapped the left side of your chest. It seemed like you were trying to reassure his heart. His heart…

You gripped onto your cyan hospital shirt, scrunching the material. You tried your best to live the healthiest life and you did, to some extent. You took care of your heart as if it was your most prized possession. Of course. Without it, you wouldn’t be living… But this heart you have belongs to him. Atsumu’s…

You could feel a striking pain at your source of life. Was he also hurting just as much as you? Salty essence dropped onto the knitted blanket. You quickly grabbed a bottle of water from the night stand and dowsed your dry itchy throat to moisture. Your red swollen eyes stared at your left.

I’m so sorry

Atsumu

You cried as your twenty five year old self sat on the hospital bed. You didn’t want to die. You were too scared of death. You didn’t want to die this early. You have so much to experience in life. You just got married…

Someone held your hand for support as you sobbed for ages. His hands felt warm and that provided a small bit of comfort. He tightened his grip. He gently wiped the tears off of your puffy under eye. You sniffed due to congestion from endless crying.

Finally, you calmed down. You couldn’t create anymore. Atsumu brushed the hairs away to get a clear look at your face. He stared into your eyes. You did the same to him, not realizing you made a pout with your lips. His hazel eyes were bottomless and soulful. His eyes tells a lot of stories and just by gazing into them, you know what he’s thinking.

He’s telling you that it’s alright. You will live. Promise.

After a minute of not saying anything, he leaned and gave you a deep kiss. As cliche as it sounds, you melted into his. You almost forgot about your mental breakdown you had just a minute ago. He needed you to let go of that sadness. Don’t be like that when he’s here. He wants to make you happy. Cheer you up.

His lips left yours and he rested his forehead onto yours. Both of ye didn’t care of the sweat that formed. Your throbbing heart subsided. All thanks to him.

Every day after practicing with division 1 team, he would visit you. The two of ye would have talks about whatever that sparks your attention. He was the epitome of delectation and happiness for you. You guessed happiness was the only medication that worked wonders for you. All thanks to Atsumu…

Until one day.

He came in to your room as usual. You closed the book in your hand as all your focus was on him. A smile etched on your face. But then, your smile faded. “Atsumu… Is something wrong??” you asked. You were worried. Why was he wearing that kind of face? Did came in contact with the doctor? If he did, what did the doctor say?

At last, his eyes landed on you. You continued to look at him for an answer. He smiled softly at you and said “Someone’s willing to give you a heart”

Your eyes widened. You were happy for at least sixteen seconds until the seventeen second began. Atsumu handed you a letter. You were to read it after the surgery. Your brows scrunched.

Why did you feel like you were going to regret this?

Little did you know, the regret burned you slowly like flowing lava once you woke up with stitches on the left side of your chest and no Atsumu by your side anymore.

Time really went by. Thirty years had passed until this present moment. You felt cold and shivers ran up your protruding spine. It was night time already. You gently laid your back on the hard pillow provided by the nurse. A white celestial being imprinted on the night sky.

“The moon looks beautiful, Atsumu” You said huskily. It was meant to be said indirectly. There was no response. Of course there wouldn’t. He’s dead.

You let the tranquility calm you down as you shut your eyes. You were no longer scared of death. You had everything ticked off your bucket list. But you haven’t fulfilled some. Especially when they included your deceased husband.

While your eyes were closed, you could imagine him waiting for you in the afterlife. You began to feel numb and your heart rate was decreasing. You grinned as you see him in his MSBY jersey and shorts with a volleyball in his hands. Finally, you could see him clearly.

“I can’t wait to be with you again…”

You felt yourself being reversed in time for youth. You were young again. Your legs dragged you towards him in a rush. Your soul left your body.

This time you died. You took care of his heart for thirty years. He was always with you without you even noticing. He gave you his heart because he couldn’t live without you. But now that didn’t matter. Both of you are together again.

This time in a different world where there’s no heartbreaks...

[blu-archer]

Mr. Park’s return

So, I’m not sure what to make of this really... like it’s not really a sickfic thing - I don’t know.. it might be, I’ll just say it classifies, it’s more of like a little continuation bit in this series and because I felt like writing about it... I’ve had this sitting with me for a while, so I may as well post it.. it felt a bit everywhere, there’s some knew characters I just tossed in because I needed too and we’ll just see where that leads, yeah? 

[there is probably grammatical errors, my first language is English I just can’t proof read - its a rough life] anyway, I hope this is somewhat enjoyable, its kind of a mess

This is supposed to be just a small filler type thing I guess

Snz based but like its rather mild.

‘Sickie’ : Jimin / [Felix? its faint really]/ [Yoongi is mentioned, but yeah]

 Hybrid AU

 Part 1,  Part 2 , Part 3

Word count: 5376

I tossed some Stray Kids in here because I love them too. 

“Good morning everyone.” Jimin smiled at the class of juniors settling in their seats as warmly as he could considering that he was still trying to recover from days of fever. He still felt tired and a weak, with some lingering symptoms, but he was tired staying at home doing nothing.  He needed to work again, get back into a routine so that he wasn’t lazing around all the time. So, he had suited up in warm clothes and more makeup than usual to hide the dark rings that had still not left him.

The class stared at him with a mix of confusion and curiosity before greeting him with about the same enthusiasm he had done to them. He supposed that was fair, it wasn’t like they knew who he was really.

He cleared his throat, dropping the exam booklets onto the desk set up in the front of the room, before continuing on with as much forced giddiness as he could manage. No one wanted to head into an exam with a dark unwelcoming mood, so if he could brighten it by even an inch then he would be happy.

 “I’m Mr. Park, I’ll be your teacher for this exam.” As if to serve as a reminder, something caught in his throat and he smothered a small bout of coughs into his arm. “Please excuse my voice, I’ve been a little under the weather.”

It didn’t take long before a few voices rose up, which was not surprising considering majority of the class had probably never seen him before. it had become blatantly obvious that most of the students had wanted to spend much more attention on their paper. He didn’t blame them, anyone would want to be distracted from exams and he usually wouldn’t mind, he loved to gossip and get to know the students and they always seemed to be as interested in him as he was in what they were like, but even with the amount of lozenges he’d sucked on that morning already, his voice was definitely going to give out if he spoke for long.

 “What do you teach Sir?”

“You look so young.”

“Mr. Park! What are you doing here?”

“Are you new?”

“What type of Hybrid are you?”

 Jimin looked to students who had spoken up. Most dressed or styled slightly different from the standard uniform, clearly these were the usual extrovert favourites. He tried to ignore the more intrusive questions and focus more on the ones of innocent curiosity. A wide grin split across his face and his sight narrowed as he recognised one girl that he taught in modern contemporary. Jimin pressed his square framed glasses further up his nose, his tail flicking as the girl waved her arm wildly from the back of the class.

 “Sana? Oh, it’s weird seeing you out of class.” Jimin chuckled lightly, giving a small wave in return. “Most of you probably won’t know me, but I’ve been a part of the dance faculty for I think about three years now. I usually only interacted in the other art departments during these times, but this year the school thought it would be better to shift things around a bit. I think I only know Sana… oh wait, Soobin’s here too. Wow, it feels like forever since I’ve seen you two…” His chest warmed with the pleasure of seeing at least some of his kids.

 “Sir, what are you doing back?” Soobin grinned and leant forward from when he sat on top of his friends desk. “Mr. Jung said that you probably wouldn’t be back for at least another week.”

 “Not quite.” Jimin corrected, moving closer to his student. “It’s just not as heavy a work-load as usual. Are you ready for your exams? And you Sana? I feel so bad for not being there in your final sessions.”

 “I think we’re both glad that you rested rather than pushed to be there with us.” Sana grinned, packing away her English textbooks. “I haven’t done mine yet but Soobin had his exam yesterday.”

Jimin’s eyes shot to the boy who merely shrugged, although the bright flash in the fae boys eyes led Jimin to believe he did better than he wanted to portray. Which was good. Great, actually. His students were amazing.

 “Ahhh… why do I get the feeling that none of you did any real dancing while I was away… Anyway, don’t stress over it. Deep breathes and smooth lines. It’s nothing you haven’t done before.” Jimin countered to Sana before stepping back to address the class once again, coughing into his arm again – slightly harsher this time. He answered and entertained a few more questions from the students that he didn’t know before finally calling it. “Okay, we should probably start soon. May everyone please start packing away any studying material. And is everyone present for this exam?”

 “Mr. Park, Sir.” A trio of girls, each with unique traits that led him to believe they were all either warlocks or fae, waved to him from the side of the class closest to the wall of windows.

 “Yes?”

 “So, you’re a dancer, Mr. Park? Can you show us something?” The one with golden eyes smirked and Jimin’s chest tightened, knowing that her suggestive tone wasn’t one of humour or general curiosity. Kids. They were kids.

 “I am, but we have more important things.” He chose to ignore the low whining that erupted from them. “Clear your desks please, you don’t seem to be going over notes anyway. I am assuming that everyone is here, which means we are going to begin.”

   He returned to the desk without glancing at the girls again. The session had officially started.

Once desks were clear he began to hand out transcripts, only letting them turn through the pages once each student had one. It was a bit of a struggle, with how hoarse his voice was quickly becoming – given that he hadn’t needed to use it as much in the past few days as he was now, but he managed to read through the paper with them to make sure there were no immediate errors then set them forth on the 3-hour paper. Even though it made him drowsy he snuck a few pills in after he stifled a sneeze into his wrist. He wanted to try keep any and all symptoms to a minimum as to not distract anyone, but it was difficult when the class only had the scribbling sound of pens on paper to fill it with noise.

He sipped the tea from his flask that he was certain Yoongi had spiked with some type of herbal energy booster before Jimin had left that morning. The hybrid couldn’t help the wholesome warmth that ran through him at the thought of the worrisome warlock. Despite Yoongi being powerful and often intimidating to those who didn’t know him, Jimin knew that the elder was in-fact a big softy that was usually too shy to address things that  stressed him out. Especially if it was about the people he cared for. Instead he was prone to small actions that he thought would help lift any burdens or stressors, for both him and whoever he helped – in this case, Jimin. Yoongi hadn’t even wanted him to start at the school again yet, even for short hours, but after the hybrid had spoken some sense into him – that it was Jimin’s job and everyone, including Yoongi himself, had  worked while sick at some point – Yoongi eventually caved.

Although that didn’t stop him from being a bit clingier than usual, and definitely didn’t stop him from wrapping Jimin entirely in the Warlocks clothes so that his scent was with him all day. Not that Jimin minded being completed drenched in the elders scent and the clothes that were just a bit too big for him always made him feel warm and comforted. The last week that Jimin had spent at home with his boyfriend had been amazing, even if he had been a miserable mess for most of it.

Jimin had just finished firing off emails to the other dance staff members about how everything was going with the dance exams and if there are still students looking for last minute help when he felt the sad realisation that his med’s had been easing off. He hadn’t brought enough for a second dose and he could already feel his nose starting to run. The exam was almost over, just another hour or so and then he was free to be a mess again. But that wasn’t what his body had in mind.

He’inxshew… hih..Hieshxngt hXNGst..

 Damn it.

Jimin sniffed and wiped at his nose with a tissue. Thankfully he had thought to bring quite a few of the tissue travel packs with him, Yoongi had tried to slip an entire box of Kleenex into Jimin’s bag but the hybrid found that to be a bit excessive. His tail curled around his waist as he felt the gazes of a few of the students that were already finished or were checking through their work, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. He sniffed repeatedly, trying to be as soft and quiet as possible but it only seemed to make matters worse as he snapped forward with another sneeze that he caught by pinching at his nose. Stifling was a bit painful, especially with how congested he had been, but he would bear with it.

He stifled four more before he had to come to terms with the fact that he could not try to sniffle to keep it at bay anymore. So he claimed fresh tissues to blow his nose, wincing and sending apologetic eyes to the students at the wet gurgling sound that filled the room. Jimin’s face was heated and he swallowed hard trying to work past his embarrassment. The students probably didn’t even care that much. But he still felt like the floor should open to let him fall through it.

He perked as a hand shot up, the student mouthing for more paper. Jimin threw away his tissues, doing his best to ignore how gross he was momentarily felt, and after a quick squirt his trusty hand sanitiser that Jin made him carry,  he was up and handing out pages. Taking that moment of already being up to slowly walk around and check if anyone else needing anything from him. He tried not to linger too much when he noticed Soobin gnawing at his bottom lip. A quick glance and Jimin could tell that the boy was struggling with understanding some of the things being asked of him and he didn’t want to add any extra pressure of being hovered over. Clearly the boy was unfortunately – in this case - closer inclined to the creative arts than he was to general studies.

 “Si-Sir?”

 Jimin followed the soft whisper to a thin, pale dog hybrid who looked anxious just to have to look Jimin in the eye. Jimin cleared his throat to try get rid of the insistent itch that seemed to plague him and leant down so that the boy wouldn’t have to look up at him when he spoke. It wasn’t often that someone reacted intimidated by Jimin, so he was left a bit unsure. The few handfuls of times that he could remember being anything close to scary were strictly associated with his dancers or the few times he got into arguments with his friends, but usually everyone saw him as a soft and gentle hybrid that they could either try to walk all over or have pleasant easy conversations with. No real threat.

Jimin rested his hand on the edge of the desk to steady himself, then silently inclined his head to indicate that the boy could continue.

 “I-I don’t feel.. feel well.”

 Jimin gently rested a hand on the boys back only to frown at how sharp the hybrid’s bones were beneath his clothing. “What do you mean? Are you stressed? Sick? Do you feel nauseous?”

The boy merely nodded and swallowed loudly, sinking further away from Jimin.

 “Do you want to go to the nurse?” he asked softly. Looking more closely at the boys’ face, his oddly sharp facial structure and sunken cheeks. He had originally seen the bruises under the boys eyes as a part of the exam season stress but maybe there was something else happening.. When he got the nod of approval Jimin set his hand on the boys exam paper. “Do you want to keep this for now, or should I take it?”

 “Take it.”  

 Okay then. Jimin stood up, slipping the exam paper from the students desk, and bringing it back to his station, making note of the foreign name, ‘Felix’, filled in at the top right corner. Then he moved to the intercom attached to the wall behind his desk chair and held the button that connected him to the head office. “Hi, could we please have someone come to room 48? I need a student to be taken to the nurses office.”

A garbled reply came back at him that he could only hope meant that someone would be sent soon. In the meantime, Jimin dug in his bag until he retrieved a sealed bottle of water. It wasn’t as cold as it had been when he had bought it, but it would do. He returned to the boy who had now buried his face into his hands, taking deep shaky breaths.

 “Felix… can you try taking some small sips of water for me?” Jimin knelt beside the desk once more, twisting off the cap of the bottle. “Just a few? When last did you eat or drink something?”

He didn’t get much of a response other than the hybrid lifting his head enough to look at the open water before shakily taking it from Jimin. He took the smallest of sips before just sitting there with his eyes tightly shut.

 “Okay.” Jimin rubbed Felix’s back and stood up again, coughing into his arm before letting out a restrained groan. “Everyone, you have 40 minutes left. If you’re finishing off or just sitting there, then go through your answers again and make sure you’ve read the questions carefully.”  

 It was almost ten minutes before Jimin heard a soft knock on the door.

Felix had been sitting with his hands pressed tightly against his eyes, leaning heavily on his elbows while taking stuttering breaths. Jimin had been hovering with concern, but there wasn’t anything he could really do to help. The dog hybrid pretty much shunned him every time he murmured a gentle question or soothing words.

Jimin left his spot next to the sick boy, giving a quick glance over the class to find that at least a third of them were watching him and not going over their work like he’d encouraged, but he called out a brief ‘half an hour left’ and moved to open the door.

 “Jimin?”

 “Jin.” Jimin let out a heavy breath, running a finger under his nose before leaning closer to the concerned elder. Silently thanking that their office employees had thought to call the school nurse directly and not some random other teacher to walk the boy to a better environment. “Hi, I’m not sure how sick this boy is, but he has a fever and I think he might be nauseous. He couldn’t tell me if it was from anxiety or something else so… He didn’t seem too keen on talking to me at all actually. I just gave him water.”

Jin nodded, wiping his hands on his jeans before stepping forward to move into the class. For a moment he looked like he wanted to question Jimin on something else but thought better of it.

 “Where are they?”

Jimin pointed him out and then stood back, trying his best to watch over the rest of the class and not interfere with Jin as he prompted a few words out of Felix – mostly about what he felt like and whether he was okay to walk - before helping him stand. The witch had to wrap an arm around the boys waist to kept him steady and they were forced to move at a slow pace, but Jin just murmured soft barely audible words of encouragement until they’d reached the door. Jimin lay a steadying hand on Jin’s arm before biting at his lip.

 “Do you need help getting back? I can ask the office to send another person..”

 “We’re fine Jimin.” Jin reassures, his hand rubbing gently at Felix’s side. “I know him, I’d rather just move slowly and not stress him out too much. You can come by in a bit if you’re worried, but I’ve got it.”

 Jimin let them go, closing the door softly behind them trying to ignore the tears that had sprung to Felix’s eyes as soon as the pair had left the room. Distracted, he gave a final slow walk through the rows of students. Most of them were finished now, some had lain down over their desks while others fiddled with their stationery. He gave a pleased nod to see that at least two students where carefully reading through their work and added to certain places, and then he passed Soobin. The boy had completely drawn over the back of his exam paper with dark detailed sketches that  couldn’t have been done quickly. Jimin winced at the thought of how the boys answers must look, and took it has a hint to sit the rest of the time at his desk where he sipped at the final bit of his now lukewarm tea.

He sent a few carefree texts to Yoongi, who had been complaining bitterly about having to stay at home for the day. Apparently he had tried to talk Namjoon into letting him work but the clumsy witch had threatened to jinx the elder if Yoongi came in to work. Jimin smiled at his boyfriend’s irritated messages, knowing that the warlock was probably still in bed despite him having his studio there if he really wanted to work.

He still felt a bit bad about getting Yoongi sick, but the warlock had thankfully always been a quick healer, so hopefully if he rested for a day or two then he would be fine. Jimin sent a final ‘see you in a bit! Love you!’ before he readied up the exam folder to retrieve the papers.

 He coughed once into his fist, pushing up his glasses instinctively afterwards, then gave a soft smile. “Okay guys, if anyone is still writing I’m going to need you to stop.”

*

   “Jin? You in here?” Jimin peeked into the small nurses office only to find it empty, ignoring how his voice had cracked. The desk had been pushed neatly to the side and had an open medical bag with some scattered medications on it but other than that and the locker off to the side that held Jin’s personal things, the room was impeccably clean. Although that shouldn’t surprise him, it was a nurses office. “Soekjin?”

 He heard a soft reply and then Jin appeared, ducking through the white curtain that basically blended into the wall. The sectioned off area for those that needed a bed to lay down in, if Jimin remembered correctly.

  “Yeah, hey.” Jin smiled and tugged at the collar of his shirt before collapsing into his chair with a sigh. “Sorry, I’ve been running everywhere.”

 “Mr. Popularity.” Jimin teased and entered properly into the room to lean against the second chair across from his friend. He flipped a small backpack up and dropped it onto the empty seat. “Felix left this. I didn’t want to leave it there in case there was something important inside. He can just fetch it from here whenever he’s back at school.”

 “He hasn’t left yet.” Jin let out a breath much heavier than before. His expression darker than what Jimin was used to seeing on him. “He stays in a foster home with a whole bunch of other kids, his guardians are always a bit preoccupied with the younger children. I think they like to think that the older kids can fend for themselves a lot better than what they actually can, but yeah. They were called, but his foster brother will probably be the one to fetch him after his classes for uni end.”

 Jimin frowned deeply. His chest ached in sympathy for the timid hybrid that had seemed close to passing out earlier. “Is he… okay?”

 “Mostly.” Jin shrugged, glancing back to the curtained area he had come through. “He threw up a few times and put up more of a fight than I thought possible when I tried to get him to drink a potion. I had to resort to just standard medicine, but it won’t be as effective.  Seems like a flu.”

 “I felt awful that I couldn’t really help earlier.” Jimin admitted with a small sniff, rubbing at the tip of his nose swiftly. “He seemed scared to tell me anything, but I don’t know… maybe he just really wasn’t feeling well.”

 Jin shook his head. “This isn’t his first foster home, he got moved around a lot. From his file and the times he’s spoken to me, he has a bit of a rocky history with cat hybrids – of course his experiences kind of dealt more with predatory breeds but I suppose he just kind of categorised.”

 Now Jimin felt worse. He bit at his lip and locked his eyes onto the curtain as if he would be able to see the boy through the material. Was he asleep, or was he listening? Jimin’s throat tightened at the thought of having scared the dog hybrid. He didn’t really like causing someone else unnecessary stress, especially if there was a history of something … what, abusive? Maybe?

 “I didn’t realise… Why was he sent to school if he wasn’t feeling well?”

 “Beats me. Probably didn’t say anything, he’s only really comfortable with a few people and I don’t think he expects to rely on his foster parents.” Jin says quietly. “He’s a good kid, though. Very funny and loud when he wants to be. He just needs to open up to others a bit more, stop feeling like a burden and maybe participate a bit more.”

 Jimin nodded, twisting at one of his rings. “It’s hard sometimes, I get that. If he ever wants to he’s more than welcome to come by the dance studio’s. We sometimes hold after school classes for those that are curious or need extra practices. It might be a bit late to switch to it as a subject, but I’m willing to teach him a few things when he’s feeling better, maybe it will help in terms of meeting new people. Or I can ask Hobi if he can teach him a few things if he’ll feel more comfortable with a human teacher.”    

 “I’ll let him know.” Jin let out a huff of a laugh. “How are you? Feeling better about being back?”

 Jimin grinned widely, leaning heavily onto the chair. “Loads better, Yoongi helped me a lot. I’m still a bit stuffy –“

 “And your voice is super hoarse.” Jin said, then smiled teasingly as Jimin whined, his ears drooping a little.

 “Yeah, I know… But I really do feel better. I’m tired now but I’m happy to be back at work, I missed my kids. I got see two of my students during the exam, although I don’t think I have a lot of faith in the ones English skills. … its fine though.” Jimin straightened up and gave a dramatic wave of his hands. “He won’t need good marks in standard school, he’ll go far in dancing.”

 Jin pulled a face at Jimin’s words causing the younger to let out a small giggle.

“Maybe not fail the standard schooling, but you get what I mean. He’s going places whether he gets those marks or not.”

 “Sure, Minnie. Just don’t tell him that he doesn’t need to get good marks in other things.” Jin advised teasingly. “That’s not the best way to educate the next generation.”

 A gentle knock on the office door had Jimin jumping in fright, his ears drawn back, and fur raised, only to see two boys hovering outside. He vaguely recognised one from seeing him in hallways but the shorter one was unfamiliar, they both had soft fae-like features and wide innocent eyes. The taller was still dressed in the academies uniform while the other was dressed entirely in baggy black clothes that reminded Jimin of Yoongi. Although he doubted Yoongi would willingly get a lip and eyebrow piercing… maybe Jimin could talk him into it…

 “Hey, Chan. You got here fairly quickly.” Jin rose from his seat. “ I think he’s asleep right now, but I’ll wake him up and give him a final look over.”

 “Thank you so much Mr. Kim.” The dark one said, smiling brightly at Jin before nodding a greeting at Jimin.

He gave a soft ‘Hi’ before he pulled the light backpack off of the seat and handed it to the one Jin had addressed. “Here’s his bag.”

 “Thank you.” Chan accepted it quickly and gratefully.

 “Aren’t you one of the dance teachers? On the other side of the school?” The student, who looked about the same age as Felix despite being taller than both Chan and Jimin. “I saw you in that theatre performance thing like three months ago… right?”

 Jimin nodded, assuming that the boy was talking about the fundraiser that the school did that was mostly a time for the students to see the staff make fools of themselves doing dances or skits – or in his and the rest of the performance arts staffs’ case, their talent and skills being flaunted in their natural habitats.

 “Yep, I’m a modern – contemporary instructor, but I help out in the hip hop sector when I’m needed.”

 The boys face lit up at knowing he was right. “You’re dancing is so cool. You were so graceful on stage, it looked really beautiful.”

Jimin smiled and felt his cheek warm. Jin had disappeared behind the curtain and Chan was watching Jimin with a small smile.

 “I remember now. I went and watched with him and some of our other brothers.” Chan added. “He kind of became obsessed with dance after that.”

 His cheeks burned and he let out a soft nervous cough into his fist. “That’s kind, thank you. Are you… all in the same Foster family as Felix?”

 Chan nodded before adding. “I don’t live there anymore, but I still spend time with some of them there, kind of become like real brothers, you know?”

 Jimin nodded, stilling feeling a bit off about thinking of them in a foster home. “Well I was just telling Jin that he was welcome to come by the studios if he ever felt interested in dance. As a way to open up a bit. I’m not sure if Felix would join if I taught him, but you’re welcome to join myself or Mr. Jung as well if you want – um..”

 “Hyunjin.” The boy said eagerly. “That’s so cool. I really want to, I wanted to take classes, but our guardians couldn’t pay for the extra fee.”

 Jimin bit back his grimace. It was unfortunate that students had to pay an extra amount for specialised classes but there wasn’t much he could do besides over informal schooling.

 “Well, we can organise once or twice a week to help you guys out. You actually look like the right build for a dancer, probably wont struggle too much…”

 Jin reappeared with the small dog hybrid following close behind, looking a bit steadier on his feet than before but still nowhere near healthy enough to be at school. Felix hesitated at the sight of him but didn’t stop for long before he move to sink into Chan’s arms. Jin spoke about some of the hybrids symptoms and what he’d need to take as well as giving a few things to watch out for and what to do if it got worse just in case their guardians got busy. Jimin moved back, letting the two boys move closer to their brother in the office. It was cute to see the three of them together, so different and yet there was a clear sense of family. Jimin sniffed only to regret it as a sharp piercing lemon scent that was no doubt coming from Felix flooded his senses. He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t smelt it earlier, perhaps it was because Felix was feeling safe – in any case, Jimin blinked hard. He pressed a finger secretly to his nose, but it only seemed to aggravate the itch. Damn it, he had really hoped that he had finished with this earlier – he had blown his nose enough times after leaving the class, but apparently not.

‘He’ingxt’ah.. h’ingxsh..hih..hih’IGTSHiew…’ He cringed as he felt eyes land on him but couldn’t do anything else but keep his hand covering his face. ‘hih’itchshew… h’IShiew..’

 “Bless you, Jimin.”

 Jimin groaned and pulled a face, giving a soft and somewhat nervous sniffle. It seemed to be the end of it thankfully. Everyone was looking at him, but thankfully they didn’t seem to really care. “Thanks…”

 “Thought you were better, hmm?”

 “Jin,” Jimin pursed his lips and resisted the urge flick him. “Shut up. I’m fine now, just... lingering stuff.”

Jin hummed but Jimin knew he was only trying to be annoying.

 “okay well, I’ll head out then.” Jimin clapped his hands together awkwardly, no longer wanting to stay in the room in case he was going to start being sensitive to any more scents.

 “Tell Yoongi to feel better for me, Min.” Jin said as he wrote down the names of specific medications that would be the most long lasting for a hybrid.

Remembering the adorable sight he had left his boyfriend in that morning, Jimin spun around with a cheery gasp and wide glimmering eyes that had Jin laughing loudly, the other three in the room just blinking with bemusement at the suddenly change.

 “Get home Jimin! That wasn’t an invitation to start blabbering about your boyfriend. Actually, I’m very annoyed at you – It’s your fault that I didn’t get my extra Namjoon-day yesterday. I was devastated! Devastated Jimin!” Jin scolded him without even trying to suppress his smile.

 “You can sleep with your husband whenever you want Jin. No one is stopping you.” A pen smacked into his chest and Jimin bubbled with laughter as he danced out of range of the book that had come flying soon after the first projectile. “Don’t throw things at me!”

 “Yah! Don’t say inappropriate things in front of students, you bratty cat!”

 “They know what sex is!” Jimin argued playfully, coughing lightly as he caught the next book that came flying at his face. “So sensitive. Has it been that long?”

 “I should have never befriended you. I have to rethink my life choices.” Jin shook his head as he sent Felix an exasperated look. The dog hybrid was watching the interaction with wide, watery eyes.

 “Bye, Soekjin.” Jimin laughed, handing the book he had caught to Hyunjin. “I’ll let Yoongi know you care. If you want… I can ask him to make up something special to help-“

“GO HOME, BRAT!”

 Jimin pranced away, hearing the soft curses that Jin threw after him. Home. Despite how mixed his feelings were after finding out about Felix’s family life, he couldn’t help but be filled with a flood of warmth at the thought of his boyfriend waiting for him. Most likely still cuddled up into the warm nest Jimin had rearranged for him, unless the elder had decided to use energy to make food or something, but that seemed particularly doubtful after he had messaged Jimin about how lucid he felt and about the mountain of tissues creating a new city on the floor of their bedroom.

It was endearing… possibly contagious to anyone else that stepped fought into their house but somehow, very endearing.

[harvestleaves]

When you breathe, I wanna be the air for you

Summary: Alex has a cold and it’s making his childhood asthma act up, his friends are worried about him, but he’s used to handling things on his own.

A/N: This fic takes place around season 3.  The song title is from the Bon Jovi song I’ll Be There For You.  There might be a second chapter or a sequel if enough people are interested.  @honeybee-babe​ enjoy!  You can also read this on Ao3 here.

Rating: G

Word Count: 1,423

He couldn’t breathe through his nose, and his head was throbbing.

That was the first thing Alex noticed when he woke up on a rainy Friday morning in early November on Meredith’s couch. He had a 48-hour shift ahead of him, though, and he didn’t have time to deal with it.

Pushing himself to his feet, Alex made his way to the bathroom with the duffle bag he brought, closing the door in Izzie’s face with a sly smirk as the blonde huffed at him.

“Come on, Alex! You’re gonna take forever in there!” she called through the door, causing Alex to roll his eyes in annoyance.

“Calm down, Iz, I’m just gonna take a quick shower and brush my teeth,” Alex yelled back hoarsely before he turned to the medicine cabinet, opening to search for some type of pain reliever or cold medicine.

Spotting some Tylenol, he quickly checked the expiration date, noting how it was almost outdated.  Shrugging, he shook two into his hand and swallowed the pills dry before he turned the water on in the shower to hot.

He stripped quickly as steam filled the room, hoping that the warm air would help clear his inflamed sinuses.

Alex made quick work of his shower and teeth brushing.  Finishing in the bathroom in under ten minutes before he went back into the hallway, a few coughs slipping past his lips when the cool air entered his lungs. A harsh contrast to the steam he was just in.

“That cough sounds bad. Are you okay?” Izzie asked as she reached out for his arm, frowning when Alex immediately moved away from her hand and passed her down the hallway.

“I’m fine. Just a throat tickle,” Alex explained, voice tight to keep from letting out another wheeze as he quickly made his way down the hall and back down to the kitchen for some coffee.  He wrinkled his nose, however, at the sight of Meredith and Derek kissing.

“It is way too early to see you two sucking face.”

“You don’t live here. Therefore, you can’t comment on it,” Meredith shot back with a grin as she pulled back from Derek. Her grin quickly disappeared when she took note of how pale Alex’s face was and how his shoulders seemed to heave with every breath he took.

“You look like shit. Are you hungover from last night?”

Meredith made her way over to where Alex was pouring a mug of coffee and reached out to press the back of her hand to his forehead.

“You’re a little warm. You’re also wheezing, and you sound congested. Are you sick?” she asked, scrunching her brows together in concern.

“I’m not hungover, and I’m not sick. It’s probably just my asthma from the weather change,” Alex lied easily as he tried pushing her hand off of his forehead with a glare.

“That’s still not good. I didn’t know you have asthma. Do you have an inhaler in your bag?” Meredith asked, glancing between Alex and the worn duffle bag on the counter, reaching for it carefully.

“Nope, it’s in my locker. It’s not a big deal though, I can breathe fine. It’s just a little wheeze, I’m still moving air, and this wheeze should go away once I get some coffee in me. The caffeine will be enough until I can take the meds,” Alex rolled his eyes as he looked at Meredith, giving Derek a pointed look to back him up.

Looking between his girlfriend and Alex, Derek sighed before his face softened as he looked over Alex.

“I’ve got to agree with Mer on this one. You sound awful,” Derek admitted.  Grabbing Meredith’s spare stethoscope from the kitchen table, Derek slid the tips into his ears and pressed the base to Alex’s back after warming it up.  “Take some deep breaths,” he stated firmly, leaving no room for argument from the younger male.

“This is ridiculous,” Alex rolled his eyes before he started to cough again, gripping the counter tightly. His chest was heaving when the fit was over as he tried to take a few deep breaths, Derek’s firm hand steadying him in place as the other listened to his lungs.

“Yeah, I don’t think your inhaler is really going to help at this point. I’m off this morning. I can go with Alex to the ER for a breathing treatment if you want to let Bailey know he won’t be on shift today.”

“D-don’t you think I should have a say in this?” Alex grumbled breathlessly as George and Izzie made their way into the kitchen for breakfast.

“What’s wrong with him?” George asked curiously as he glanced from Derek to Alex to Meredith, eyeing the stethoscope that Derek had looped back around his neck with a raised eyebrow.

“He’s sick. He was flushed and wheezing when I saw him after his shower in the hallway,” Izzie stated as she crossed her arms over her chest.  Not even feeling the slightest bit bad for ratting out her friend.

“And his asthma’s acting up on top of it all. Whatever he caught has clearly settled itself into his lungs. He needs a nebulizer and probably some IV steroids for the tightness in his chest,” Derek stated as he handed Alex over to Meredith so she could lead him to one of the chairs at the kitchen table before he finished preparing the mug of coffee for Alex.

“Sip on this until we’re all ready to go. It’s not as good as your inhaler, but it should hold you over for a little longer. Did you take anything for your fever?” Meredith asked as she took the mug from Derek and handed it to Alex.

“Why didn’t you say that you weren’t feeling well?” George frowned in concern as he brought his own mug up to his mouth, having thought that the four of them, plus Cristina, had become closer since their internship had started.

Alex simply shrugged as he stared at his coffee, no longer interested in the beverage as the other four seemed to all be staring at him.

“I took two Tylenol, but they expire next month, so they might not be very effective.  I didn’t want you all to worry, though. You all seem to like to coddle each other too much. I didn’t want or need to have you mother me,” Alex finally wheezed out as he ran a hand over his face in exhaustion, wincing when he tried to take a deep breath.

“Alex, you’re our friend. We’re always going to worry about you.  Whether you like it or not,” Izzie sighed softly as she placed her hands on his shoulders to try and work out the knots she was positive were there from his strained breathing.  “Now go put your shoes on so we can get you treated.”

Groaning, Alex shuffled to the living room to slip on his sneakers, sitting down on the couch when the tight feeling in his chest in his chest caused a wave of dizziness to fall over him.

Dropping his head to focus on catching his breath, Alex let out a shaky wheeze before he brought a hand up to his chest to rub at his sternum.

It was definitely getting harder for him to breathe, and though he’d never admit it to anyone.  He was scared.  He could deal with the bloodiest of surgeries at work, but asthma attacks always seemed to shake him to his core.  It was that childhood fear that still lingered within him that one day he’d have an attack by himself, with his inhaler unable to help and he would suffocate.  Alone.  How he had lived most of his life.

“Ready to go?”

Alex lifted his head to look up at Meredith as she crouched in front of him, her hand resting gently on his heaving shoulder as a sign of support.  I’m here for you.  Meredith was always great under pressure, though he could see a softness in her eyes that was typically only reserved for Derek, Cristina, and her patients.  In that order.  And even though he resented her for pitying him, for caring about him when he’d been nothing but an ass to them all.  There was just a small part of him that was thankful for having friends that seemed to genuinely care about his well-being.

“Y-yeah, I’m ready.”

And he was.  For whatever life threw at him, because his friends were always going to be there for him.

[janekfan]

Growing Pains

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26567926

Jon pressed a lingering kiss on Martin’s hot forehead, checking his temperature and worrying when it didn’t seem any lower.

38.4. The Eye so helpfully provided. Which confirmed his suspicions, thank you very much.

“Good morning, darling.” There were so many things to worry about, especially when the fog took a moment to clear from his eyes, and Jon knit his brow, stroking back auburn curls and murmuring soft memories because his biggest fear was losing him again to the Lonely.

And not being enough to get him back.

“Jon.” His voice was raspy, cracked in the middle, and he turned away to cough weakly into the back of his hand.

“There you are.” Brushing away the remnants of clinging mist and wishing he was stronger.

“Where’d I go?” Martin blinked, languid and slow, face flushed delicately over his nose and hiding away the lightest freckles.

“Just been asleep, that’s all.” He groaned, turning his face into Jon’s thigh to rub his cheek against it and Jon wasn’t sure he could handle how utterly, heartbreakingly adorable this man was. “I know, not fun being ill.”

“S’stupid.” Laughing gently, he laid down beside him and wrapped him up.

“Is it?”

“Mmf.”

“I see, that is a powerful truth.” He tugged his head to his chest and kissed the top of it. “I’m going into the village to pick up supplies. Was there anything special you wanted, my darling?”

“Mmmf.”

“Two packages, then?” Martin smacked at his shoulder and missed. “Alright, alright. I’ll stop teasing, shall I?”

“Mf.”

“I’ll be back soon.” And when Martin gripped him harder, Jon soothed him to sleep, replacing himself with a pillow as he slipped away.

The weather was on the chilly side, the sky a bright and brilliant blue that contrasted with the highland cows dotted along the fence lining the walk and Jon found himself smiling as he paused and snapped a few photos for Martin, going so far as to take a selfie with a particularly friendly lad and not deleting it.

Unfortunately, approaching the village meant approaching people. People who were marked by numerous fears and experiences the Beholding wished so, so much to feed on. It pushed the ravenous, empty ache to the forefront of everything and Jon kept his gaze down near his feet so as not to frighten people with his hungry, unblinking stare. It was as though he could taste their proximity and swallowed back the urging, the longing, the yammering of the Eye in his head, wanting Martin to be proud of him for keeping his promise. Quick in the market, Jon packaged everything away in his rucksack and shouldering it, grunted under the weight as it seemed he’d gone slightly overboard. Never having been in the best shape, by the time he made it back to the safe house his leg was protesting and he was panting hard. Martin would always be worth it, no matter the cost, big or small.

Standing up from his stool, Jon swiped the last ingredients into the stock pot and gave it a stir and a tentative sip to check the flavor. It felt good to care for someone even if he had so little experience in it, basing it on what he thought might feel nice. What he'd seen in movies. Read in books.

He couldn’t blame that lack of knowledge on his monstrous transformation.

“Mm...smells good…”

“Hullo, darling.” He couldn’t help but smile when Martin buried his face in the space between Jon’s shoulder and neck, ticklish and almost deliriously happy over soup and the idea that, while he hadn’t cooked in forever and a day, he could do this for Martin now. Jon let himself relax back into Martin’s overwarm embrace when his arms wrapped around his thin waist, settling there like they belonged.

Dishes in the sink for tomorrow’s washing up, Jon plied Martin with a mug of herbal tea doctored heavily with honey and lemon for the cough, stroking along his arm when he listed sleepily into his side and cuddled into the knitted throw they kept on the couch.

“Jon?”

“Are you alright?” The edge of panic made Martin laugh and then cough and if Jon weren’t so worried he would have been insulted.

“I’m on the mend.” The Eye cheerfully confirmed this with a read of 37.8. “But. You feel warm, Jon.” Martin leaned away to cup his face. “You need a rest yourself after everything that’s happened.” Moved to his brow and frowned. “Are you feeling well?”

“I’m fine, darling.” He took them in his own and squeezed, kissing Martin’s forehead softly. “Your hands are cold, that’s all.”

Truthfully, Jon was knackered. But who wouldn’t be having gone through what they’d just fled from? That’s all. He was tired and hungry and stressed with worry over Martin and how quickly he’d fallen ill and how high his fever had risen and Jon didn’t know how to care for people, how to help because he was made to harm and to hurt and mygodhewasgoingtoruinthis.

It wouldn’t help Martin to focus on himself or the starving sensation buzzing in the periphery at all times.

“Jon, I’m really feeling better.”

“It’s quite cold outside and your cough--” Martin held his hands, rubbing his thumbs over the backs of them.

“Okay, okay.” Jon was relieved and he could tell Martin was amused by all of his fussing, but he frowned just slightly, looking down at their tangled fingers. “You’re trembling, love.”

“Mm. I’m.” Looking away out of shame and embarrassment, Jon took his hands back as well, wringing them together nervously. “I’ve b’been. Hungry.” He couldn’t actually remember the last time his hands hadn’t been shaky and said so, catching the flash of guilt in Martin’s eyes because he hadn’t been there to know and oh, how could he have abandoned Jon to that all on his own.

And, horrified, Jon kept that thought to himself because he’d accidentally plucked it out of Martin’s without permission and rather than see the disappointment that would surely be there, he leaned up on his tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

Jon hadn’t meant to hide that he wasn’t feeling well. Truly. And because he felt so brittle and stretched thin much of the time, it wasn’t always easy to parse out what were symptoms of an illness and what were just normal pangs. But Martin still wasn’t one hundred percent, a low grade, persistent fever clung to him like the fog Jon had to scare off on occasion.

This time, it was a bad coughing jag when he came in from the out carrying an armload of firewood, the temperature change sucking all the air out of his lungs and replacing it with cement. It almost sent him to his knees and he heard Martin get out of bed from where he’d been napping and of course, Jon, can’t even let him get the rest he needed.

“Jon-darling?” His palm was on his back, fingers tipping his chin so he could get a good look at his face but his complexion was dark enough that a flush would be harder to see. Once Martin was better, then he would relax. Just a bit longer. “That sounded painful.” It had been and the tightness in his chest made it difficult to speak.

It didn’t stop his lying.

“I, uh. Had a smoke.” Martin’s attention was disapproving now, instead of investigative. So that was. Good. That was good, right? “I. Didn’t. You know how powerful your disappointment is.” But he hadn’t smoked in a long while, and didn't need it when the real cravings were the statements walking around in the nearby village. People. People walking around who. Who had statements.

God, Jon.

He was tired.

He was cold.

“I’m sorry, Martin.”

Jon didn’t know what time it was but knew he should get out of bed and get the tea started. It was good to start with tea because it helped with the congestion and the coughing and he’d finally become somewhat capable at actually making it thanks to Martin’s wonderful tutelage. So he slid out of bed, limping to the kitchen on a stiff and sore leg to put the water on to boil.

He only closed his eyes for a moment.

Martin woke with the sun falling across his face, lighting up the room in a soft apricot glow, and a cold, empty bed. Where had he run off to? Martin knew he wasn’t feeling well and for some reason thought he had to hide it from him, but that was a conversation for another time. With his luck, Jon had wandered off into a field somewhere in only his pajamas.

Instead, he found him curled up on the kitchen floor swallowed up in one of Martin’s jumpers, a tea kettle full of water on a cold hob, and he knelt beside him, unfolding him enough to get a hand on his brow. Not surprisingly, he was burning up, the flush he couldn’t see before now present, highlighted with pallor and a sheen of sweat.

“Oh, Jon.” Most definitely down with Martin’s flu if the chills were any indication. “Good morning, love.” Lashes parting like a moth’s fluttering wing, Jon looked dazed and disoriented, blinking up at him as Martin maneuvered him into his lap. “Why’re you on the floor?”

“Jus’ lai’down for a minute.” He breathed out and in as he spoke his slurred words. Exhausted. “Dunno...dunno what happen’d.” Martin was sure he didn’t.

“I have a few guesses, love.”

“M’yeah?”

“Yeah.” He was quickly losing him to the pull of feverish weariness and decided to put off his teasing until he could at least defend himself properly. “Let’s get you back to bed, hm?”

“Bed.” The right fool. Martin lifted him, holding him close, and kissed him softly when he threw skinny arms sloppily around his neck with a contented hum. “Warm.”

“Better than the floor?”

“Hm.” Jon was clingy, whinging when Martin pulled away to retrieve medication and finish the tea he’d almost started, but stilled when he buried fingers into his wild salt and pepper hair for a quick second. He took pills and drank fluids when pressed, but mostly wanted to sleep and cuddle up wrapped around Martin’s leg. And he let him, content to work on some spare verses and rub Jon’s back as he alternated between sleeping like a stone and coughing up a lung.

Martin was overjoyed when Jon cooked for him, even if the man himself hadn’t been able to eat much, and he reheated it on the stove, returning to their room with a mug of broth and a bowl for himself.

“Martin?” Bleary and congested, he needed his help to sit up against the headboard, Martin providing himself as a support when he threatened to fall over again. He passed him the mug, making sure Jon’s shaking hands could hold it. His decision to fill it only halfway proved wise.

“Jon?” Fever glazed and half lidded, Jon’s eyes looked for answers in the bottom of his mug.

“Feel better?” Martin tapped the side, encouraging him to sip instead of speak.

“Much better, thank you.” He pressed a kiss to his temple and Jon leaned into his touch even more. “You took very good care of me, love.” Martin could almost hear his self deprecating thoughts, spiraling round and round. “Will you let me care for you?”

“Shouldn’t h’have to, to, to care for me.” Martin lifted the broth away, setting it on the side table. “You n’need.” He curled closer, his arms drawn tightly around himself, shivering.

“Need what, Jon-darling?”

“Bet’ter.” It hitched in the middle.

“Than you?” He was like a brand where they touched and Martin knew from previous experience that Jon was prone to weepiness when sick. “Impossible. Come here, love, shh, hush now, hush.” It was nice to dote and fuss over Jon now that he would let him. “You can’t help falling ill.” And Martin held him through his nonsensical rambling until he finally dropped off to sleep.

Jon’s fidgeting woke him up close to dawn just as the sun was beginning to burn away the fog on the horizon. It was satisfying, watching it disappear, torn apart by light and warmth, and he smiled softly before laying a hand on Jon’s shoulder.

“Everything alright?”

“Sorry.” He breathed, turning to face him. “Din’t mean to wake you.” Martin pushed a few flyaways back behind his ear, pleased that his temperature was markedly lower and his eyes clear if still full of sleep. His face twisted up into a wince and Martin cupped his cheek, stroked his thumb over the bone there.

“What’s wrong?”

“N’nothing.” He was a horrible liar and he knew it, the way he was glancing away and purposefully holding still.

“Jon.” Martin was firm, wanted to help if he could.

“Just. Having a difficult time getting. Uh. Comfortable.” Shame colored his face and his admission was mumbled into his pillow.

“Oh, love.” With shadows still thick beneath his eyes and far too warm, it seemed he’d passed the point where Martin’s presence was enough. “Can I help?” He watched Jon stare at the headboard, likely following the patterns in the wood grain, and while Martin had his suspicions he wanted him to to feel like he could share this with him. He gave him patience. Watched him war with himself.

“Do. Do you get. Aches?” Martin ran a hand down his back and watched him settle. “When. With fevers?”

“I do, I was really sore with this flu.” Jon leaned into his touch like a cat. “Is that what’s bothering you?”

“Mm. But I can. I’m sorry, I can be still.” And he could, save for the delicate tremors. “M’leg.” When Martin wouldn’t look away. “That’s all.”

“Can I try?” Jon didn’t say no, just shifted with a rough, cut off groan. The muscles were tight and rigid when Martin swept his fingers down just to see what was hurting, and Jon whimpered involuntarily. He focused on the old wounds from Prentiss in his hip, worked his way gently to his knee, soft and careful, letting his hands warm everything up and Jon was almost a puddle by the time he’d finished because, despite all that happened and all he tried to pretend otherwise, he loved to be touched, especially by Martin. And he may have used it to his advantage a time or two. He watched Jon unspool under his hands, relax deeper into the mattress, breath even and slow, seconds away from finding sleep again and Martin had done that, brought him some peace and relief. This time, he curled up around Jon, not wanting to move him in case it made him hurt again, and kept watch.

[ak47stylegirl]

Sick Days: Chapter 10

Well this wasn’t the fic chapter I was expecting to post tonight 😅 but here we are lol😂 I hope you guys enjoy this XD (Alan sure isn’t lol 😂 The poor kid is sick 🤒) Also the artwork is one I did earlier this year.  

The rest of the chapters 

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Scott's pov 

He quietly nudged open Alan's bedroom door with his elbow, Alan's dinner sitting on a dinner tray in his hands. It was definitely a challenge not to spill any of the hot soup because sheesh, Virgil had filled the bowl up to the brim.

The sun had gone down a long time ago, the darkness of night setting in, causing Alan's room to be submerged in darkness. He could just make out the silhouette of Alan laying on the bed, the little rocket night-light next to the bed illuminating his baby brother. 

He could also see every little tremor that shook Alan's core, and he could hear every hitched and wheezy breath clearly, every sniffle and cough that Alan made, he could hear loud and clear. 

It absolutely broke his heart…

But even though the night-light illuminated Alan and the room enough that it wasn't pitch black, it was still dark and he couldn't see the floor very clearly. The risk of walking blindly into a seven years old's room; especially with a bowl of hot soup in his hands, was too high of a risk, even for him. 

Because anybody that has raised young children or been around young children a lot would know just how much kids loved to leave stuff scattered all across their bedroom floors for unexpecting adults to nearly trip over or step on. 

So it was with much regret that he had to turn Alan's ceiling light on, flooding the room with light. Much to the dismay of his baby brother, who cried out in pain at the sudden change of lighting and buried his head under his blanket. 

He grimaced, nudging Alan's bedroom door closed behind him, "Sorry, sweetie..." He apologised as he made his way over to Alan's bed, stepping around discarded toys that he would have surely tripped over if he didn't have the ceiling light on right now. 

"I'm going to turn the ceiling light off in just a moment, okay?" He lowered the dinner tray down onto the bedside table. 

Alan just whimpered in pure misery, a pair of feverish blue eyes peeking out from under the blanket. Alan's bed was covered in a blanket of dirty tissues; he thought with a concerned frown as he switched the bedside lamp on. 

And the bucket beside the bed wasn't much better, tissues overflowing onto the floor, he thought as he made his way back over to the ceiling light switch, flicking it off. The room darkened quite a bit but not to the point where he couldn't see where he was walking. The bedside lamp had a softer glow than the ceiling light, which should be much gentler on Alan's eyes. 

At least he hoped so; he thought with a worried frown as he walked back over to his baby brother, whose head was still buried under his blanket. He sat down on the edge of the bed, laying his hand lightly Alan's shoulder. "Sweetie, the light is off, you can come out now…" 

Alan hesitantly removed his blanket from his head, blinking up at him with a feverish pout. "Is that better? The light not hurting your eyes anymore, is it?" He asked gently, laying the back of his hand against Alan's flushed cheek.

It was warm to the touch...  

Alan looked at him for a moment before weakly nodding his head, his eyes flickering close briefly as Alan groaned, his face scrunching up in discomfort. "I...I don't feel well…" Alan sniffled damply, looking up at him with watery, bloodshot eyes. 

"B-By h-" Alan broke off to cough harshly into his pillow a couple of times, his chest rattling with each cough, "-b-by head really h-hurts…" Alan finished with a stuffy groan and whimper.

"Oh baby, shhh I know..." He ran his hand gently through Alan's hair, letting his hand linger against Alan's forehead for a moment. (The forehead felt even hotter somehow...) "I know you don’t feel well…" 

Alan sniffled. 

He sighed softly, glazing over at the hot soup on the bedside table "Come on, It's time to sit up a bit, okay?" He gently slipped his hands under Alan's armpits, taking hold of the kid's torso and gently lifted him up into a sitting position; fixing Alan's pillows accordingly. "It's dinner time.." 

Alan watched him with a sickly glaze, looking so sick and feverish; his flushed cheeks seeming even more apparent now; his nose visibly swollen and red, thick gunky snot oozing out of it. 

He grimaced at the sight, grabbing a tissue, "But first I need to give you your medication, okay?" He explained as he gently dabbed away the moisture under Alan's nose. 

Alan nodded with a little groan, slumping slightly against his pillow, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes. 

His eyebrows furrowed as he ran his hand through Alan's hair, letting his hand wander down to Alan's feverishly warm cheek; watching as Alan closed his eyes and leaned into his touch. 

Alan whimpered as he pulled his hand away, looking up at him with a pout. He signed sadly as he opened Alan's medicine and poured a measured amount into a little cup. 

"One big gulp and it's all over, okay?" He comforted as he handed Alan the little cup; which his baby brother took reluctantly, holding it like it was a snake wanting to bite him. And maybe for a seven-year-old, a foul-tasting medicine was akin to a snake. 

But what Alan was currently feeling must have been worse because Alan swallowed it in one go, without needing any more encouragement from him. Which was a worrying surprise as it told him just how sick Alan was feeling...

Usually, he would have to encourage Alan a bit more before he would take his medicine, he thought as he took the empty medicine cup and handed his baby brother a bottle of water. 

But this time, he barely had to say anything…This cold really was a bad one, wasn't it? He thought with a frown, running his hand through Alan's hair as his baby brother took a couple of small slips from his water bottle. 

Alan stops drinking abruptly, lowering his water bottle just before a massive sneeze burst out of him; stray going everywhere as Alan didn't have time to cover properly. That surprise sneeze was followed by another, this time into Alan's hand, and that sneeze was followed by another…

And another...

He gently slipped the water bottle out of Alan's hands as Alan continued to sneeze, each time getting wetter and more out of control; his baby brother sounding more congested every single second. 

Alan's head collapsed back against his headrest with a weak groan once the fit was over, the poor kid looking beyond miserable and exhausted, little tear lines running down his cheeks. And Alan's nose was even redder than it had been, looking mighty irritated and sore; thick gunk oozing out from it all the way down passed Alan's chin, running like a faucet on full power. 

"Oh, baby..." He grimaced softly as he reached for a couple of tissues, taking one and gently wiping under Alan's nose, causing Alan to whimper slightly; his nose flaring at the irritation of the tissue running across his nostrils. 

He paused briefly what he was doing, waiting for a second to see if Alan was going to sneeze or not. 

And with how irritated Alan's nose had been; he wasn't really surprised when Alan lurched forward, sneezing into the tissue he was holding over the kid's nose, soaking the tissue through thoroughly. 

He wiped up the moisture from the last sneeze the best he could with the socked tissue, "Your nose really isn't your friend today, is it?" He mused softly as he threw the soaked tissue into the overflowing bucket, wiping the excess moisture off onto his pants. 

Alan nodded with a congested sniffle, his head collapsing backwards against his pillow. He sighed as he gently lifted Alan's hand and wiped it clean as well, throwing the dirty tissues into the bucket by the bed. 

He really needed to clean that out soon, he thought, looking down at the bucket with a frown; before turning his attention back to Alan, who's nose had already started to fill up again. And was beginning to run as well, causing Alan to sniffle and rub roughly at his nostrils; which crackled with moisture as the kid tried to stop the flow of his misbehaving nose. 

"Oh kiddo, come here.." He grabbed one more tissue and gently titled Alan's head up slightly, holding the tissue over Alan's nose, "Give me a big strong blow.." 

Alan sniffled, looking up at him with glazed over feverish eyes before blowing to the tissue; his nose still very congested and leaky as he pulled away. 

He frowned, grabbing another tissue, "one more, kiddo…" 

Alan groaned weakly before blowing into the tissue with a wet honk, soaking the tissue beyond use but that last blow seemed to have done the trick; Alan's nose stopping its assault for the moment.

"That's a good boy.." He whispered, laying a little kiss on Alan's forehead as he threw the dirty tissue into the bucket. "Now, I want to take your temperature, but after that, we can get some food into you, okay?" He smiled softly at Alan, his eyes filled with a tenderness reserved for his little brothers. "Virgil made your favourite, chicken and corn soup.." 

Alan paled slightly.

"Do I have to eat?" Alan groaned, rubbing at his wet and irritated eyes with his fist, looking up at him "I Don't...I don't feel good; I'm not hungry…"

He frowned, worry blossoming in his stomach as he grabbed the thermometer off the bedside table. It wasn't like Alan to deny Virgil's chicken and corn soup. "Alan, you need to eat your dinner..."  

"But...but my tummy hurts..." 

"I'm sorry, but this isn't up for debate sweetheart…" he stroked Alan's hair back tenderly, slipping the thermometer under Alan's tongue. "You barely ate anything today, and what you have you've thrown up… I'm not letting you skip dinner..." 

The teary-eyed pout Alan gave him was made even more heartbreaking by the thermometer sticking out of the kid's mouth, causing Alan to look so miserable and sick.

He couldn't help but pull Alan into a quick hug. "Sweetie, I'm only looking out for you.." he sighed, laying a gentle kiss to the side of Alan's head; pulling away as the thermometer beeped. 

He sighed, frowning at the results. Alan's fever had gone up a bit since he last took the kid's temperature, not by much but still…

He would prefer his baby brother to not have a fever at all, he thought with a sigh, putting the thermometer back down on the table. He glanced over at Alan to find that the kid had slipped down his pillow a bit, his arms crossed in a pout as he stared off into the distance unseeingly.

He sighed softly, "Allie...come on, sit up, sweetheart.." He reached forward and gently lifted his baby brother up a bit; causing Alan to grumble and groan at him. He frowned, "I know you're not feeling well, but please cooperate with me, kiddo..." 

Alan bit his bottom lip as he looked up at him, blue eyes shining with moisture; red-rimmed around the edges and cloudy with fever. It was evident to him if he pushed too hard or sounded in any way mad; that Alan would one hundred per cent start crying...

He sighed for what felt like the hundredth time today, "I just want you to eat a little bit of your dinner, okay?" He explained as gently as he could, placing the dinner tray on Alan's lap, "You can't get better if you don't eat sweetie..." 

There was visible steam coming up from the soup, which made Alan shake his head and scrunched his nose up, the steam shifting something in Alan's sinuses…

And before long, Alan started to hitch and gasp, his eyes watering immensely as he desperately reached for a tissue. Grabbing one just as he lost all control; a multiple of five powerful sneezes bursting out of Alan, barely giving the kid time to recover before the next one hit. 

Alan was left shivering and shaking; all the colour having drained from Alan's cheeks, leaving him even paler than he originally had been. 

"Oh, sweetheart..." he sighed softly, brushing Alan's hair back with his hand. 

Alan made a sound that was in between a groan and whimper as he looked up at him; his nose shining red with moisture. "I...I don't feel-" Alan coughed harshly into his elbow, "-ugh..feel good.." 

He frowned, his heart just breaking and aching so badly for his little brother, "I know, baby.." He comforted, his eyes crinkling with worry as he grabbed a fresh tissue, "I know..."

He gently mopped up the excess moisture under Alan's nose, being careful not to irritate Alan's sore nostrils further. Alan's nose had started to drip and run; full to the brim with snot. 

He sighed, holding the tissue over Alan's nose. "Blow, kiddo.." 

Alan blew into the tissue, sounding very much like a stuffed up, water clogged foghorn. He frowned, throwing the used tissue away. His poor baby...

Alan sniffled, roughly rubbing his nose as he stared down at his dinner; baby blue eyes foggy with illness. "Stars?" Alan croaked, coughing slightly as he picked up one of the croutons. 

His eyes softened, "Yeah, I made them just for you, kiddo.." He smiled softly, running his hand through Alan's hair. "Because I know how much you like them. I even made a rocket…" He pointed to the crooked triangle shape-ish crouton, laughing slightly at his attempt. "At least I tried too.." 

"Oh…" Alan mumbled with a wet little sniffle. 

His smile slipped slightly as he watched Alan put the crouton down and continue to just stare at his food, not moving to eat any of it. 

"Allie, come on…" He sighed as he grabbed the spoon off the tray and scooped up a bit of soup, gently blowing on it before he brought it up to Alan's mouth; which Alan reluctantly opened after a second. "I just want you to eat a little bit, that's all I'm asking…" 

He continued to feed Alan a couple of more spoonfuls, Alan slowly getting more willing to eat after each new spoonful, a little bit of colour returning to Alan's cheeks. "You think you can finish the rest while I clean up your room a bit kiddo?" He turned the spoon handle towards Alan, holding it out for Alan to take. 

Alan nodded with a little sniffle, taking the spoon and scooping up a bit of the soup, taking a small sip. Alan's hand wasn't as steady as his had been, causing some of the soup to dribble down his chin, and drop onto his pyjama top. 

But that didn't really bother him; he was just happy that his little brother was eating, he thought with a small smile. He leaned forward and placed a light kiss on the tip of Alan's forehead, softly whispering "Good boy…" as he stood up.

Now onto the not so fun stuff, he thought with a grimace as he looked at the mess that was Alan's room, toys littered all over the floor and tissues overflowing from the bed and bucket/bin. Not that any of this was fun, he thought with a sigh, his eyes shifting to his sick little brother. 

Toys or tissues? He thought, quickly deciding to deal with the tissues last as that would be the messiest job, seeing as the bin was already overflowing, and there looked to be half a bucket worth of tissues on the bed as well. 

He was halfway through cleaning up Alan's toys when he heard the sound of Alan starting to cough. "You're okay kiddo?" He asked, concerned, watching as Alan nodded, spluttering into his arm. 

He frowned, before turning back to his task at hand, but he could not stop himself from glancing over at Alan every so often, worry churning in his stomach. He chucked the last toy into Alan's toy box and closed the lid, stretching slightly, his back hurting from bending over so much. 

Who knew Alan had that many toys? No wonder he always tripped on them, there were so many… now those tissues, he thought with a frown, looking at the overflowing bin. He's going to need a rubbish bag from the kitchen...

"S-Scotty?" Alan asked weakly with a damp sniffle, looking at him with wet bloodshot eyes, “Where're you going?" 

"I'm just going to get a rubbish bag for those tissues, sweetheart.." He smiled softly at Alan, his hand resting on the door handle. "I'll be right back; you just continue eating, okay?" 

"Oh…" Alan sniffled with a little nod. "Okay…"

----

He emptied the bucket full of used tissue into the black rubbish bag, before gently stroking the ones that were on the bed into the bag as well, some falling onto the floor, joining the other ones on the floor. 

"You sure know how to go through tissues kiddo…" He sighed softly, trying to make light of the situation as he bent down and picked up the last couple of tissues. "You're going to need another tissue box at this rate…" 

"S-Sorry.." Alan mumbled weakly, slumped into his pillow, dinner tray discarded on the bedside table. "I-I don't m-mea-" Alan sneezed into his hand, launching forward before collapsing back down with a misery filled groan, wrapping his arms around his middle. 

"Oh Allie, it's not your fault, I was only joking..." He comforted as he sat down on the edge of the bed with a sad look in his eyes. He stroked Alan's fringe to the side, letting his hand linger. "This cold is just being very terrible to you, isn't it?" 

Alan nodded, his eyes getting more misty and wet. "It's just k-keeps getting worse…" Alan's voice creaked, his bottom lip starting to shake and tremble. A tear slipped down Alan's cheek, followed by a couple more. 

Alan gasped breathlessly, rubbing his eye with his fist, trying to stop the flow but being unsuccessful as more tears started to make strong, powerful rivers down his cheeks. 

"Oh baby, come here…" He scooted closer to Alan, wrapping his arms around his baby brother in a comforting hug. Alan latched onto him with a little sob, burying his face into his side, his little fists desperately grasping his shirt tightly. 

"Shhh, I'm here... I'm here, shhh, it's alright..." he whispered, gently stroking the back of Alan's head, his eyes filled with sadness and heartfelt pain. 

Because he knew that this was just the first day of this horrible cold, and he knew that in the next couple of days, Alan was going to worsen. 

The first day was only the teaser to the cold that would follow, and seeing how bad today had been for Alan, he was significantly worried. It was only going to get worse from here on out…

He sighed, leaning his cheek gently on the top of Alan's head. "I know it seems like it's getting worse and maybe it is, but that's why I got you booked in for a doctors appointment tomorrow sweetheart..." 

To make sure this was just a cold…

Alan looked up at him, his eyes wide and vulnerable, making a sound between a whine and a sob. "I...I don't want to g-go out tomorrow, I...I feel too...too sick!" 

His eyebrows pinched together in pain as he looked down at Alan, his eyes soft but filled with so much worry and pain. "Baby, sometimes there are just things we have to do; it doesn't matter if we want to do them or not..." 

More tears fell down Alan's cheeks. 

He sighed deeply, "It will be worth it, I promise…" He caressed Alan's cheek, running his thumb gently across the bottom of Alan's eye, catching a couple of tears. 

All the crying had caused Alan's nose to start running again, thick gunky snot oozing out onto Alan's reddening top lip. 

He reached for a tissue and gently wiped Alan's nose and upper lip, grimacing slightly as Alan whimpered in pain, the soft tissue starting to feel like sandpaper to Alan's sore nose. 

He sighed, throwing the tissue away and bringing Alan close once again, his baby brother's head collapsing against his chest, the medicine starting to kick in, making Alan one tired little boy. 

One tired little boy indeed, he thought, looking down at Alan, who's tears had dried up and who was now looking thoroughly drained. "Come on; I think it's time you get some rest-"

"Hey, guys!" Gordon opened Alan's door with a bang, causing Alan to jump in fright. "We're putting a movie on! I was wondering if Alan wanted to join?!" Gordon asked, his eyes wide with excitement. 

He could hear Virgil yelling from the living room 'I told you not to disturb them, Gordon! Get back in here!' He blinked in surprise for a second before frowning, rubbing the bridge of his nose with a tired sigh.

"Gordon, I'm trying to get Alan to sleep here…" He explained quietly, his hand running up and down Alan's back in an effort to soothe Alan after the momentary fright he had gotten from Gordon bragging in unexpectedly. 

At least Gordon had the decency to look embarrassed, rubbing his neck sheepishly. "I...yeah, um sorry, I just…" Gordon looked down at the floor, rubbing the sole of his shoe into the carpet. "I...I just thought I should offer, you know? I thought it would; I don't know, maybe cheer Allie up a bit or something?" 

His eyes softened slightly, his frown turning into a tired smile. "Maybe another time, Gordy, okay?" He suggested as Alan's eyes started to flicker close, the soothing rubbing motion of his hand easing Alan to sleep. "Allie needs his sleep, but I'll join you in a moment, okay?" 

Gordon nodded, looking a lot more timid than he did when he first entered the room, "Okay, sure..." Gordon turned to leave. 

"Hey Gordon, one more thing!" he called, causing Gordon to pause and look at him. He smiled softly, "it better not be another sea life documentary again…" 

Gordon's eyes lit up, "Aww but sea life documentaries are so fun to watch, don't you know that Scotty..." Gordon grinned cheekily at him, quickly disappearing down the hallway. 

He chuckled, glad to see Gordon back to his normal self. The fish may frustrate him at times, but he couldn't stand to see him down and not his upbeat self. 

He turned his attention back to Alan, finding his baby brother on the edge of sleep. He smiled softly at the sight as he slowly and gently shifted Alan into a sleeping position, fixing the kid's pillow with one hand, the other supporting his sleepy baby brother. 

He silently moved off the bed. 

"Jeffy.." Alan muttered softly, reaching out blindly, unable to keep his eyes open much. "Want...want Jeffy.." 

Jeffy was Alan's beloved teddy bear. The kid had found it when he was around four years old and hurting from their parents' deaths. He had been against being it home at first as it had been incredibly dirty and broken, missing most of its stuffing. 

He had no clue where it had been or what it had touched, so it wasn't rocket science to realise why he didn't want his baby brother anywhere near it. Any well-meaning guardian/parent would react with the same concerns. 

But Alan had already gotten attached, and no amount of reasoning was going to change his mind. He remembers those tear-filled eyes that had looked up at him and sobbed, 'I don't want him to end up like mummy and daddy..' 

So it goes without saying that broke him, and he gave in; letting Alan keep the teddy bear on the condition that they were going to wash it and fix it up before he could play with it. Alan had stood in front of the washing door the whole time it was in there, refusing to let Jeffy out of his sight. 

Even when they were sewing the patches on, Alan had insisted on supervising the process, sitting on Virgil's lap as he sewed the bear back together. It was a very much beloved bear…

(And when it had gotten lost for a week after they had first moved to the new house, Alan had been inconsolable...) 

He smiled softly as he spotted said bear, it had fallen between the bed and side table. "Shhh, he's right here, baby…" he whispered, handing Alan his teddy bear. 

The second the teddy was in Alan's arms, it was snuggled close to his chest as Alan rolled onto his side. He grabbed the blanket and brought it up to Alan's neck, carefully tucking his baby brother in.  

"Sweet dreams, Allie…" He lightly kissed Alan's temple, gently stroking Alan's hair out of the way. "I hope you feel better in the morning…" He silently picked up the dinner tray and flicked off the lamp, making his way out of the room. 

He paused at the door, taking one last look at Alan before leaving, closing the door behind him. 

[leapyearkisses]

O Captain, My Captain 2/2 - (m/m) Salem/Faughn

Part two of the soldier setting.

Lil’ bit of mess. Hair brushing. Yearning. Etc.

---

The bar was dim and full of smoke from the spitting of the fire in the grate.  Despite the proprietor’s efforts to shield against the storm, it was raining down the chimney, and the logs were hissing like hecklers at a bad variety show.  The haze collected in the ceiling joists with the smoke from the soldiers’ cigarettes. It was crowded and loud inside and stank of wet wool and spilled ale.  Could definitely have smelled of worse, though; Salem wasn’t complaining.  He tapped his lips against his empty mug, gaze lingering in the shadowed corner of the room.

“Another round for you, sir?”

He looked up, saw Maisie Harpe looking down her nose at him, serving tray under her arm.  Her expression was condescending.  Salem remembered it fondly.

“You don’t have to call me ‘sir,’” he said, but pushed his mug toward her.  “I’m still the same as I was.”

Maisie sniffed dismissively, picking it up.  “Gone off and joined the war.  Too good for a potter’s life.  You think you’re going to come out the other end of it?”  Her blonde curls shimmered around her round face with a flash of lightning.  “Pa says it’s like watching sausages get made.”

“Hold your tongue, girl!”  John Hadditch, the blacksmith of Yens Hollow, came up behind her and shooed her off.  “Bad luck talking of that over beer.  Go and bring us something better than this swill your Pa’s set aside for soldiers.”  He sat down across from Salem and lifted his wooden leg around the bench with a grunt.  “She still wants you to be pullin’ her pigtails, Sammy.”  He chuckled.

Salem cleared his throat, hiding a smile.  “She’s got better prospects than me.”

“Aye, maybe an officer?  I heard they’re keeping the brass nice and polished at Maven Broadmoor’s place.”  John leaned in.  “You got a roof over your head, Sam, or are you out with the poor suckers in the mud?”

“Well, I’m not really brass.  Maybe copper,” Salem said, accepting a new tankard from Maisie.  “Mrs. Broadmoor is letting me sleep in the horse loft with the other lieutenants. Better than the back pasture.” He tapped his fingers on the table.  When Maisie had walked away to another group, he leaned in.  “I need to know if it’s safe to talk.”

“Not in here,” said John, taking a long draught of beer.  “Come to my shop on the morrow, or I’ll come down to the farm if the bloody sky hasn’t fallen.”  Thunder shook the double-paned windows.  “My leg’s not as it used to be, though, and riding is a trial.”

“We can come to you.”  Salem had been given a small company of men solely for this purpose of meeting with the trustworthy locals… or at least those they hoped were trustworthy.  “On the morrow, if, as you say, we’re all still here.”  

—

It was still raining when he finished the night, snapping the neck of his raincoat closed at the door, as if that would help.  Maisie Harpe moved in the fallen darkness of the banked fire, turning out the oil lamps on the walls and drawing blankets over the men who had passed out at their benches from either drunkenness or exhaustion.  Salem kept his tongue to himself, just tipped his hat to her on his way out.

His horse was none too keen to be drawn out of the stable, digging her heels in while he tacked her up.  “I know,” he murmured, securing the saddle girth.  “But you’ll be home soon enough.”

The streets were the same as he remembered them, and he rode confidently toward the edge of town even in the storm.  He’d gone to school here as a boy, every morning hitching a ride on a wagon into town from the neighboring village.  His father had been a cooper, building barrels for beer, whiskey, fish, pickles… whatever the fur traders needed, and then when that started drying up, whatever anyone else needed.  His mother had been a potter.  Technically, he still owned the house and the workshops, but he’d given the plot to a cousin to manage.  He wondered absently, focused on the echoing of his horse’s hooves on the cobbles, whether he should go by the place while he was stationed here.  Surely no one would begrudge him the chance to see family.  …Although they weren’t close.

His mare moved faster on the dirt roads despite the muddy furrows, picking up her pace going out to the farmlands.  Salem hunched against the rain.  Water was running down his neck and his face, and an ill-timed breath sent a drip up his nose, too.  He ducked to the side with a loud sneeze.  “Hruuscht!”  His horse laid her ears back.

“Sorry, girl.”  He wiped his face on his wet sleeve and sighed.  It was very late, but he thought, maybe, he should try to meet with the Captain before he went to sleep.  To update him on the idea of meeting with Hadditch tomorrow, to tell him what Salem had overheard while drinking, …to inspect the state of him.  Salem sighed.

—

There was a lamp still burning at the Broadmoor farm.  Salem put his horse away and then slogged up to the main house, shivering on the back stoop.  Martha, the maid, let him in to the kitchen and took his jacket, scolding him for coming back so late.  She probably thought him a souse.  He let her chide him as she brought him a towel and a heel of bread.  He ate it after she’d returned to her bed, then left his boots on the hearth, hoping that the fire would dry them somewhat, before going upstairs.  He trod carefully.  Major General Wallace was staying here as well, and he was said to be a rough character when untimely roused. 

Light flickered beneath the door of the yellow bedroom.  Salem tapped lightly against the paneling and waited for an acknowledgement.

“Yes?” The Captain’s voice was hoarse.  “I don’t need another of your bitter infusions, Doctor.”  He coughed.  “I’ve had more than enough of them.”

“It’s Lieutenant Desidero, sir.”

“Come in.”

Salem stepped into the room.  The Captain had a candle burning and was writing at the desk, quill scratching over the parchment at a steady pace that was uninterrupted by Salem’s visit.  Captain Faughn was wearing his hair down for once.  It spilled down his back like blood, the same shade, tangled and damp with rain or sweat.  Hardly regulation, Salem could hear in his mind, the voice of his long-ago trainer barking away in memory.  His gaze followed the length of it to the Captain’s trim waist.  He was in his shirtsleeves.

“I have a report,” he forced himself to say.  “A short one.  I went to the village tavern tonight.”

“Tell me about it,” said Faughn, without looking up.

So Salem did, describing the state of the place, the bearing of the owner, Maisie Harpe, the blacksmith.  He talked about the bar’s stable, which had a new roof, and the men who had worked on it and dined there that night.  The church had burned two years ago and been rebuilt a little bigger, with a new back room, by the same men.  Men from trapper families with nothing to trap anymore, back in town since a few months ago.

Faughn listened to the report without commenting, though he did lay his quill down sometime in the middle.  By the candlelight, his eyes were heavy-lidded and thoughtful.  His cheeks were flushed high with fever.

“Nice job,” he said when Salem had finished, rubbing his hands together.  “I knew I was right to trust this to you.  If all goes well here, I will be sure to give you a commendation.”  He sniffed hard and Salem heard a liquid shift of congestion in his sinuses.  “Is there anything else?”

Salem swallowed.  “Your hair, sir?”

“My hair?”  Faughn frowned.

“I’d like to brush it for you.”

—

The Captain’s comb was made of whale ivory.  Salem sat on the bed behind him and drew the fine teeth carefully down through the Captain’s hair, trying to untangle it without pain.  The Captain’s hair was soft despite the rigors of the war.  Salem supposed he must keep it oiled under his hat, or some other way protected from the elements.  “I’m not hurting you, am I?” he asked.  

Faughn had made a small noise, but now he lifted a hand to dismiss concerns.  “No.  No, you’re fine.”  His fingers were slender and strong, but he curled them now under his nose.  “I’m going to hh-” 

Salem slipped the comb free as the Captain bent forward, crushing his nose to his knuckles.

“Nkktsch!  Ngktschx!”  His breath caught again.  “Hah- hahktschiu!”  Moisture shone against the smooth curve of Faughn’s nostrils in the candlelight.  He sniffed thickly and reached to the bedside table for a handkerchief.

“Bless you,” murmured Salem, gaze lingering.  He looked away when the Captain raised an eyebrow.  “How are you feeling?”

Faughn cleared his throat, low and irritated.  “I do wish people would stop asking me that.”  He dabbed at his nose but seemed hesitant to blow.  The corners of his dark eyes creased in uncertainty.

Salem traced his fingers over the comb, thumb pressed along the smooth edge from end to end.  The bedroom was warm from the farmhouse’s central fireplace.  Heat blossomed also in his belly.  He looked at his nail, snagged earlier on his horse’s reins, instead of at the Captain.  He could hear from the Captain’s breathing that he would sneeze again.  “My apologies.”

“Ngktschiu!”  Wet again, but this time enveloped by the folds of the handkerchief.  Salem could imagine how it might feel instead against his skin.  His arousal swelled.  Faughn groaned softly, a private sound.  Salem rose to his feet.

“I will report to you again tomorrow night,” he said, placing the comb on the clothes chest by the foot of the bed.  He could feel himself blushing.  Part of him wanted the Captain to turn and see it, too, but most of him knew to keep it close and hidden.  “Good night, sir.”

“Good night, Desidero.”

Salem closed the door behind him and then stood for a long moment in the empty hallway, listening to the rain.

[halfway-happyyy]

Just the Same

AN: This was the product of a whole day and half’s worth of rain, and soft feels. Reader and Alexander have (and probably always will have) unfinished business. Fluff and soft feelings ensue. Happy reading loves. 

Little pleasures exist in almost anything, don’t they?

Sometimes they’re found in that first sip of ice-cold water at three in the morning when your throat feels more like sandpaper than normal. Sometimes they’re in that near-scalding shower taken at the tail end of a day you never thought would end, or the first few bites of your favourite pizza. Lately they’ve looked like hours set aside to devour the last few chapters of your current novel; or curled up on a chair in your front window, watching the rain pour down the glass in sheets.

And then you saw his face again after more years than you'd like to admit, and it put every single little pleasure you'd ever experienced, to shame.

He looked just about the same as he had the last time you’d been lucky enough to lay your eyes on him, albeit a little bit older, a little bit more distinguished. Where the creases next to his glassy blue orbs were newly acquired features, the way they glittered when the corners of his lips turned up into a small smile, remained the same. You suspected that aspect of his face would simply never change. “Hi,” He murmured breathlessly and after a beat or two, smiled and shook his head in mild disbelief. “God it’s good to see your face again, kid.”

Your cheeks grew warm at the mere sound of that painfully familiar cadence of his, but oh, hi Alex… seemed a bit too trivial a greeting for someone who once shared your life in every sense of the word. Instead you folded your arms across your chest and nodded your head in greeting. There were so many things you wanted to say to him; things you had years to form questions and answers to you in the wake of his gaping absence. Yet despite that notion, none of them could be vocalized at this particular moment in time.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, finally.

Alexander shrugged and shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Honestly I left the apartment this evening with no real trajectory and found myself here somehow.”

“It’s not exactly close,” You offered up quietly.

Alexander shrugged again. “I needed the fresh air.”

That’s not good enough…

You hugged your jacket tighter to your frame and swallowed hard, gathering the courage for what you were about to ask him next. “What are you really doing here Alex?”

His gaze traveled to a stray pebble on the ground beneath him which he kicked. “Honestly? Work is picking back up again. I’m leaving at the end of this month for an indefinite amount of time and I keep- He cleared his throat. “I keep thinking about you.” He scratched at the back of his head; his gaze still trained on something unseen on the pavement below your stairwell. “I could be doing anything, you know? And somehow it always comes back to you. Always.”

The all too familiar sting of oncoming tears prickled threateningly in the depths of your eyes and you glanced upwards to try and ward them off. You’d been in this position and had this exact conversation with the elder Swede before you, numerous times in the past. “Listen Alex, I'm not really sure what you're looking for-

“Bill and Gustaf are in town right now,” He admitted quietly. You had to strain to hear him above the sounds of the city around you. “I know it’s been a while and far too much space has settled between the pair of us…” He made a point of looking right at you now. “But they miss you. And I know how I feel about you, and if you're up to it, maybe you could meet the three of us for drinks tomorrow night?”

In awe of the audacity with which he possessed, and maybe also in spite of it, you found yourself saying yes. And as you watched the grin bloom slowly across his face in the low evening light of May, you wondered why on earth people left if perhaps they were never meant to in the first place.

*

It never ceased to amaze you how easily Alexander could find his way back into your life again. For a while it was simply enough that you both resided in the same city, both breathed the same smoggy air, both rode the same congested subway. But no matter how hard you had tried to extricate yourself from him, he always found a way back in. Sometimes it was through broken pieces of Swedish you’d glean from passerby on the street, or a favourite song of his on the radio in a taxi, or walking past a restaurant you’d visited with him late one evening ages ago. He never lingered far from your thoughts and it drove you nearly mad.

Nerves had very nearly gotten the better of you as you approached the door of the pub you were meant to meet at. It was only running at half capacity given the current climate; and knowing him like you did, you imagined he and his brothers were holed up at the back of the bar in a tiny corner of their own. You took a deep breath and stepped into the front foyer of the pub, reveling in the sudden warmth that greeted your chilled figure, and the subtle scent of cigarette smoke. You smiled softly to yourself when you noted that the three men were indeed seated at the farther most booth of the pub, and any trepidation you may have had going into this little get together dissipated when Gustaf turned to you and grinned broadly. His smile- the genuine contentedness beneath it, helped to warm you that much more. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” He scooted further down the cracked leather booth to make space for you.

“Mm… a little while, yeah.” You smiled back at him and shrugged out of your jacket, hanging it on the hook outside the booth. You could feel Alexander’s gaze on you, practically boring a hole into the side of your face. “Hi Bill,” You smiled widely at his younger brother, who raised his half-full pint glass in greeting. “I hear a congratulations are in order?” You wiggled your eyebrows in amusement. The idea that Alexander’s kid brother was now a father still astounded you somewhat.

Bill’s face split into a wide grin and it caused your heart to ache just the slightest bit. “Who would’ve thought, hey?” He winked.

Gustaf scoffed beside you and took a sip of beer, setting it down with a resounding clank. “Not me, that’s for sure…” This caused the three of you to dissolve into fits of hearty laughter and after that eventually subsided, Alexander caught the eye of a waitress and waved her over. You glanced down at the glossy drink menu beneath you and ordered a pint of Belgian Moon.

The longer you basked in their company, the longer it felt just like old times again. Blissful vacations spent in Sweden with the whole clan, blurry nights out at film festivals and premiers, hungover Sunday brunches at your favourite spot in the city. It astounded you how easy it was to fall back into old memories, how much like breathing it was to be around Alexander and his family even after the dust had settled over everything.

“I’m really glad you decided to come tonight,” Alexander murmured while Bill and Gustav were deep in conversation about something. He was leant towards you across the wooden table, and the urge to ghost a fingertip down the length of his stubbled cheek was overwhelming.

You took a hearty sip of beer and shrugged, eyeing the soft-looking blue t shirt he had on. A worn leather jacket hung from the hook beside him. “Yeah well… I’m a glutton for pain I guess.”

Alexander smirked at you. “Not much has changed then, I see.”

You blamed the blush that had creeped into the apples of your cheeks on the near-empty beer wedged in the grasp of your hand and not at all on the memories of how good the elder man had once made you feel. You cleared you throat and deposited the rest of the golden liquid into your mouth. “You’ve been well?”

Alexander smiled but it never really touched his eyes. “As well as can be, I suppose. Production was halted on a lot of projects I had lined up for last year and this one.”

“Work isn’t everything.” You murmured.

Alexander laughed lightly, the mere sound of it as familiar as hearing an old favourite song. “It is when it’s all you’ve got.”

It did not take you long to appreciate the mild buzz you had acquired thanks to the three beers you had nursed throughout the course of the evening. Gustaf had just finished happily regaling you with stories of his arctic adventures and of his work with Green Peace. You told him of your tentative plans to visit Ireland when it was safe to do so, and by the time his bill was paid, he’d already texted you a wonderfully long list of places he thought you’d love, whenever you got around to going. You got up from the booth so that you could let him out and Alexander did the same for Bill. Gustaf hesitated a beat before pulling you into his arms for a bear hug, the heartfelt gesture leaving you almost breathless. When he pulled away, he was beaming at you again. “It was lovely to see you again, kid. And hey- he gestured to the phone in his pocket. “If there’s anything you want to know about Ireland- feel free to get a hold of me, yeah?”

“Thanks, G.” You smiled and turned your attention to Bill. “Squeeze her tight for me, okay?”

Bill wrapped his arms around you as well and nodded his head. “Be happy to. Hope to see you again soon.”

Alexander hugged each of his brother’s goodbye and watched them snake their way past the half empty tables to the front of the bar. He stood at the head of the booth for a while after they left, hands wedged into the front pockets of his jeans. “You know, it’s almost embarrassing the amount of times they ask about you.”

“G and Bill?” You asked mildly.

He let a small laugh loose. “All of them.”

A pang of something- it felt remarkably close to intense heartache, hit you hard and winded you for a few moments. What could you say to someone you used to know better than yourself? Where did you go from here?

“When do you leave?” You asked after a while.

Alexander scrubbed a hand down the length of his face and sighed. “Uh… in about two weeks give or take but-” He was about to say something else when the waitress returned to your table with the bill, which Alexander paid for wordlessly. You made a mental note to slip him some cash later.

The journey home was a quiet one; the only sounds in the mostly empty subway car were that of the one-sided conversation from a woman a few seats down and the rhythmic chug of the wheels against the track. You were keenly aware of Alexander, though. Of the heat radiating from his body next to yours, and of how badly you wanted to lay your weary head against the crook of his shoulder blade like you had so many times before. If you closed your eyes tight you could almost feel the way his hand used to wrap protectively around the top of your thigh.

Not everyone who leaves wants to. Remember that.

He had sent it roughly a month after the two of you split for good and you had spent a few evenings crying yourself to sleep over that particular combination of words. Now, right in this moment, you understood that statement better than you ever had before. “Can I tell you something?” You asked rather suddenly.

Alexander glanced up from his clasped hands to stare out the window at the passing lights of the city for a few moments and then turned to gaze at you. “Go for it, kid.”

“I- you swallowed hard. “I don’t think I would have given up.” He let the silence settle around you before he said anything. “I think I would have fought for us.”

Alexander shook his head sullenly, his gaze downcast. “I made a mistake. One that I have agonized over for the better part of eight years.” He scratched at the nape of his neck uncomfortably. “I’m not proud of admitting that I took the easy way out in that situation but believe me when I tell you I regret it deeply, nearly every damn day.”

The train trundled to a halt and you got up from your seat wordlessly. You were half expecting him to stay where he was, but he joined you at the doors and waited next to you for them to open. You walked the few blocks in silence and when you were about five minutes away from home, you turned to him. “I just wanted you to know that no matter what happened, no matter what was said, no matter how far away you traveled from me, I would have loved you just the same.”

“I know.” He consented. You sighed heavily and continued walking, trying in vain to blink away the tears brimming in the depths of your eyes. You could just make out the wrought-iron lamppost in the distance signaling the stairwell leading to your foyer. The sound of hurried footsteps on pavement could be heard beneath the buzz of your muddled thoughts and Alexander caught up with you in front of your apartment. “Listen kid,” He murmured. “We fucked it up the first time. Both of us,” His breathing was steady, measured. “We just couldn’t seem to get the distance and timing right. But we could do try it all it again you know.”

We could try it all again.

“Would you like to come upstairs?”

Alexander nodded his head wordlessly.

You fished the keys from the depths of your bag and pushed it into the lock, allowing the elder man to go ahead of you as you held the door open. He knew the way well. Everything had mostly remained the same since he had last seen it, you figured.

“You have a cat?” Alexander asked in genuine surprise.

Except for that.

You glanced back at the orange, Rubenesque tabby cat eyeing Alexander rather suspiciously from her perch on the pain-chipped windowsill. “Oh yeah. That’s Estelle. I got her in the divorce.”

Alexander’s face fell slack, his blue eyes widened in horror. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’m kidding, Alex. I uh… got her a few weeks before everything went to shit with the pandemic.”

He elicited a dry laugh and shrugged his shoulders. “A lot of time has passed. Anything could have happened. I was actually a little surprised to see that you weren’t snapped up yet.”

You pulled a bottle of wine from the wooden rack next to the fridge and uncorked it, setting it on the marble counter top to breathe. “Yeah well, I could say the same about you.” Sometime in the last fifteen minutes it had started to rain, and now you watched the drops race themselves down the length of your kitchen window.

“There was one point about two and half years ago that I thought I may be finally ready to move on,” Alexander offered. You pulled a wine glass from the top cupboard and passed it to him wordlessly. “I bought a ring and everything. And then uh… the night I had set my mind to it, I couldn’t go through with it.”

“You couldn’t?” You asked quietly.

Alexander shook his head slowly, his gaze trained somewhere outside the kitchen window. “Something felt inherently wrong, you know? I couldn’t put my finger on it until last night.” You poured him a glass. He cocked his head to the side and cleared his throat. “What shall we cheer to?”

“To gut feelings and fresh starts.”

He smiled softly at this and lifted his glass in greeting. “To gut feelings and fresh starts.” You were quiet as you savored the slightly jammy flavour on your tongue. Alexander allowed himself a healthy sip and placed it carefully back atop the counter. “Do you have any idea how badly I wanted to touch you this evening?” You had been about to reply, but he stopped you. “I don’t even mean that in an outrightly sexual way. I mean that in a,” He pursed his lips together as if trying to locate the perfect way to express himself. “I mean that in a completely innocent way. I wanted nothing more than to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, to reach across the table and take your hand in mine,” His tone was hopelessly wistful.

“You could do it now,” You offered almost inaudibly.

Alexander lifted his gaze to yours, smiled at you, and pushed himself from the edge of your counter. He closed the distance to you in seconds, and took your face in his impossibly warm hands. Kissing him for the first time in eight years was like coming home after an unbearably difficult day. No matter how far away either of you roamed, he would always be home to you.

Right now your little pleasures exist in the weight of his lips on your own, the utterly familiar flux and flow of a rhythm that never stopped working. They exist in the notion that no matter what transpired between the pair of you, you would always love him just the same.

[iwritesickfic]

not if it’s you

Bo knew that calling out sick for a day would mean he’d see Dell at some point after he was done with whatever he had to do. Part of him is hoping that Dell doesn’t know why he has the day off, but Dell isn’t an idiot. 

Part of Bo’s reasoning is that even though he probably could work, he really shouldn’t. He’s told Dell enough times to not wait until it’s so awful he can’t get out of bed to get some rest, so he’s partially taking his own advice. That said, he feels pretty terrible. Whatever this virus is, it’s absolutely vicious. His sinuses feel like they’re full of concrete, his nose won’t stop streaming and most aggravatingly, he’s sneezing. Maybe for some people sneezing is the least of their worries, but with the aching in his swollen sinuses it makes it feel like someone’s driving a stake between his eyes. 

The final reason is that Bo never really gets sick, and if he does it’s always mild, so he can’t imagine how Dell, who’s genuinely miserable with what others would call a cold, could handle this. The chances are pretty good he’s going to catch it even with Bo taking a day off, but it’s worth a try. Which is why he’s hoping Dell won’t show up at his door tonight, even though he knows it’s inevitable. 

And just as he expected, at 8 PM there’s a knock on the door. Bo takes a deep breath and spends a moment in front of the mirror trying to look less shitty than he feels before opening the door. 

“Hi,” he says, and Dell smiles. Even feeling like this it makes Bo’s heart melt. 

“Hi. You’re sick,” he says, and it’s not really a question but Bo nods. 

“You shouldn’t be here.” All he wants is to be held right now, to be taken care of and looked after and loved but it’s selfish to ask those things of Dell, even if he’s offering them.

“I’ll be fine,” he says, and Bo sighs. His head is really starting to ache from being upright. Dell starts to lean in, and Bo has to put a hand on his chest.

“I really don’t want you to catch this.” Dell tucks a bit of hair behind his ear, and Bo can feel his fingertips brush his temple.

“C’mon, you’re breaking my heart.” His voice is so hard to resist, he’s too damn charming. “Probably caught it already anyway.”

“Well you’re definitely going to if you come in.” A few sneezes catch him off gaurd, and though he’s able to catch them in his sleeve, his head throbs and it’s so bad he’s swaying on his feet. Then, he feels steady arms pull him close, his aching head against Dell’s chest. It feels incredible, being held, and he lets out a shaky breath.

They stay like that for a while in silence, one of Dell’s hands rubbing his back.

“You’re running a fever,” he finally says, and Bo hums in response. There’s another long pause before he speaks again. “Listen, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll go, but you have to take tomorrow off and you have to text me, ok?” Bo breathes a sigh of relief and nods against Dell’s chest. “Alright. One more thing.”

They pull apart, and immediately Bo is disappointed, the steady comfort is gone as quick as it came.

“What?” He asks, and without warning, Dell presses a lingering kiss to his forehead. Clever of him not to ask first, as Bo definitely would’ve said no, but it feels so nice he doesn’t complain.

“I’ll see you the day after tomorrow,” he says, and Bo nods, forcing a little smile. “Good.” He smirks. “Now go get some sleep you look like hell.”

--

Two days later the illness is almost completely gone, the only remnant the odd sniffle here or there and the soreness of his nose from being rubbed raw with tissues. 

He’s glad they’ll be working - it takes care of the whole no-kissing thing without Bo having to actively decline, which is good because he’s pretty sure he’d give in just seeing his smile.

He’s hyper focused on Dell throughout the day, and luckily it seems like he’s feeling fine. He has small tells that Bo’s learned to recognize, but nothing seems off. Usually after work they’d have dinner, but Bo decides it’s best if he doesn’t risk it.

But, the next morning, he sees Dell and his heart immediately sinks. He definitely hasn’t slept well, and he’s touching his septum with his knuckle which nine times out of ten means he’s coming down with something.

“We should take the day off,” he says, and Dell sighs.

“I’m fine. Really.” Bo bites his lip. “Promise. If I feel bad I’ll let you know.” Bo must still look skeptical because Dell puts a hand on his shoulder. “Trust me, I’d love to take a break every time I feel like shit but I have responsibilities. The world’s not gonna stop for me.”

Bo wants to argue but he knows Dell’s right, at least partially. Now of all times it’d be hardest to get a break. He’s still in the process of transitioning into his new role which originally was supposed to be king, but is now just taking over all of the policy his mother doesn’t want to handle. The royal titles are mostly symbolic, but their family still wields considerable political power.

While there’s always tension between Dell and his mother, lately it’s been more pronounced than ever. Things are moving fast and he can’t afford to stumble.

 “Promise you’ll tell me if you need to slow down.” Dell smiles.

“I promise. You’re really cute when you’re worried.” That manages to draw out a laugh, and Dell seems pleased.

The rest of the day goes smoothly, but Bo can tell he’s feeling worse and worse. By the end of the day, Bo’s already trying to see how possible it’d be to cancel their day tomorrow. Better to get a jump on the inevitable.

He’s relieved when they’ve finally reached the end of the day, but almost immediately there’s a new problem.

“Why wasn’t it on the agenda?” Bo asks, and Dell sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose like he does when he has a headache.

“It’s a family thing, I thought you knew about it. It’s not a big deal, it’s just a dinner.” It’s not just a dinner, Bo knows that. They’ll be entertaining some group of politicians for most of the night, then he’ll have to spend at least a few hours with his family and Emilia. But there’s really nothing to be done. Family commitments are non-negotiable. “I feel ok, really. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, ok?”

Bo takes a deep breath and nods.

“Tomorrow morning.”

The minute he doesn’t see Dell at 6:30 the next morning in the front driveway, waiting for the car, he knows something is definitely wrong. Dell’s never late. Ever. Still, he waits 15 minutes. When he doesn’t show by 6:45, Bo makes his way upstairs and through the maze of hallways to Dell’s apartment. 

He knocks once, twice, three times, all to no response. Finally, he just opens the door. The room is dark, and for a moment Bo thinks maybe he’s not here, when he hears a few muffled sneezes.

He flips on the lights, walking over to the bed where he now sees a lump underneath the comforter.

“Hey,” he says, trying to keep his voice low. If he caught what Bo had he’s probably got a pretty bad headache. When he gets close enough he finally sees Dell curled up under the heavy blanket all the way up to his nose, eyes red rimmed and unfocused. Carefully, Bo sits on the edge of the bed, and Dell lets out a soft little moan. He tries to be gentle, but even pressing his palm to his forehead draws out another half-moan half-whimper.

He’s incredibly warm, but that’s not really a surprise.

“Fuck, did I sleep in?” he mumbles, voice thick with congestion.

“No, you’re fine,” Bo says, not wanting to make him feel any worse. Normally Dell’s sharp enough to tell when Bo’s bullshitting, but now he just accepts the information without complaint. He just lays still while Bo runs his fingers through his hair. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“Head fuckin hurts. A lot.” Bo can tell. Dell doesn’t offer anything more, so Bo lets his thumb run back and forth against his hot temple.

“Migraine?” he prompts, and Dell makes a small sound from the back of his throat. “That’s a yes?”

“I don’t know, Bo. I just feel awful.” His voice sounds unsteady, like he might cry, which ratchets Bo’s anxiety up a notch. That and the fact he’s actually admitting to feeling terrible. Usually statements like that are followed by “but i’m alright,” or “but it’s not so bad.” He starts to sit up, and his face immediately goes pale. Bo guides him the rest of the way so he’s upright, but lets him rest his weight against his chest. His head is tucked into the crook of Bo’s neck. His breathing is strained.

“Hey, it’s alright, just relax, ok?” Dell shakes his head, and Bo sighs. “What’s wrong with that?”

“I have to get up.”

“I promise you don’t.”

“I’ll take an ibuprofen, it’ll be fine.” He’s shaking, but Bo’s not sure if it’s from exhaustion or the fever. 

“Hate to rain on the parade but you can barely sit up. I’m not just telling you to stay in bed, I -”

“Yes you are,” Dell argues back weakly. Bo almost wants to let it happen. For Dell to get up and pass out  just so he’ll understand what’s going on. 

“It’s not an opinion, i swear, i’m being objective here. You’re just too sick.” Dell lets out a small huff and tries to sit up straight. He manages, and somehow gets his legs over the edge of the bed. Bo sighs.

And of course, just as he anticipated, the minute Dell tries to stand on his own his knees go weak. Luckily Bo’s able to catch him and get him stable again pretty quickly, but the damage is done. The shaking is even worse now, and with every exhale there’s a little pained sound. 

“Fuck,” he finally says, and Bo presses a kiss to his temple.

“Just relax, ok?” He says, and Dell nods. Just as he’s pulling away, he lets out a harsh sneeze, followed by what can only be described as a moan. Two more come soon after, and it’s abundantly clear they’re worsening the pain in his head. He sniffles, which draws out another soft moan.

Bo pulls far enough away so his hands rest on Dell’s flushed cheeks, and experimentally, he presses his thumb into the space under his eye and to the side of his nose. Immediately he lets out a choked sob, and Bo frowns. His sinuses are so swollen Bo can tell from that one touch alone he’s got a sinus infection, and a bad one at that. It’s no wonder his headache is so awful. He remembers his own bout with this and how terribly his own head ached. He can’t imagine how Dell must feel. 

“I am so sorry,” he whispers, and Dell shakes his head.

“It’s not your fault,” he says, and Bo sighs. “M’gonna lay back down, ok?” he mumbles, and Bo nods.

“Yeah, definitely. I’m gonna grab some stuff, I’ll be right back.” He nods, and Bo gets up. In the bathroom cabinet he finds a few things that might help, but he’s not totally sure. He has the thermometer, obviously, and at first he considers something cold to help the fever but decides something warm is probably better to help the ache. He remembers an old trick he used to use in university when he ran track, a quick way to make a hot compress.

He brings the supplies he’s got so far back to the bedside table and slips the thermometer under his tongue, before going to the closet and grabbing a sock. It takes him a minute to find the right drawer, but when he does he heads into the kitchen. It takes another minute to find the rice, but when he does he fills the sock about halfway and ties the end, then sticks it in the microwave. It’s sort of strange, but if it works it works. 

When he finally gets back to Dell, the thermometer’s long done. 102.4. Bad, but not catastrophic. Yet. He takes the hot pack and lays it over Dell’s closed eyes, and he lets out a little gasp.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, panicked for a moment.

“No. Feels good,” he mumbles, and Bo is about to reply when his phone starts to ring. Loudly. Dell’s expression tightens, and Bo fumbles to answer the call. He gets up, walking over to the couch.

“Hello?”

“Bo, shit, what’s going on?” It’s one of the family’s other assistants, Marina.

“Dell’s sick. I was just about to call.”

“So when will he be ready?” Bo braces himself.

“He can’t get out of bed.”

“When did you become a doctor?!” She snaps.

“Mari, I’m serious.”

“I’m serious too!”

“He almost passed out trying to stand up, there’s no way he’s going anywhere. Even doped up on whatever, it’s not happening.” There’s a long silence.

“Well...” she trails off. “Shit. You’re sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Alright.” She sighs. “I’ll clear everything today and tomorrow, and I’ll put in a med assist request. You better not be exaggerating. This totally fucks the entire week.”

“Why would I -”

“Because he has you wrapped around his finger, Bo.”

“I’m not gonna talk about this with you. Just text me about the med assist and let me know if I need to make any calls.”

“Alright. Talk later.”

“Thanks.” When he hangs up he lets out a heavy sigh, and Dell’s weak fever slurred voice pipes up from the bed.

“Who was it?” 

Bo shoves his phone in his pocket and heads back over to where he was sitting on the edge of the mattress.

“Just Mari.” 

“Why? You said we’re not late.” Bo goes back to playing with his hair, hoping the touch is comforting.

“Everything’s cancelled.” Dell still looks confused.

“Why?” Bo considers his options. He could just tell him the truth - it’s because he’s too sick to even get out of bed - but that might just stress him out more. Knowing that he’s the reason everything’s been rearranged will just make him feel worse.

“She didn’t say.” Luckily, he seems to accept that answer without question, but Bo can tell there’s something more bothering him. “Was everything ok last night?” Dell sniffles, and Bo hands him a tissue from the almost-empty box on the nightstand. He takes the now room temperature compress and puts it on the bedside table.

“No, I didn’t sleep good.”

“I mean with the dinner and everything.” 

“Oh. Uh, it wasn’t great. Just family drama.” He pauses. “No one gives a shit about me, Bo.” Immediately Bo’s hand goes to cup his cheek.

“That’s not true.” Usually Dell doesn’t discuss any of his family issues, even when it’s just the two of them. He’s always diplomatic and vague, never really expressing any opinion. Bo gives a soft smile. “I do, right?”

“Not you, that’s not what I meant,” he says, and Bo sighs.

“Well what makes you say that?” Dell looks lost, his mind cloudy with fever, so Bo resates. “That no one gives a shit about you. What would make you think that?”

“I was so fucking sick last night.” He ends the sentence there but Bo can infer the rest of the meaning. And no one cared. 

“To be fair, you’re very good at looking perfectly fine when you feel like shit.” Bo offers, but Dell’s expression doesn’t change.

“ I can’t...it’s hard to explain it.”

“It’s alright, I understand.” He doesn’t, but the conversation is clearly only making Dell more upset. “Can I get you to eat something?” He asks, and Dell sighs.

“I guess. I don’t know. Can you ask Mari why everything’s cancelled? That doesn’t make sense.” Bo bites his lip. 

“Yeah, I can ask her.” He’s wondering how he’ll even begin to think of a believable lie when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He opens his texts. 

medical got denied. Bo frowns, typing back quickly.

what? why?

She texts back almost immediately.

they didn’t say. schedule is clear though, so that’s something at least.

The frustration must show on his face because Dell speaks up.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, just give me a second,” he says, and types back.

he needs the med assist

Another message comes through.

relax. he gets sick all the time its not a big deal 

Bo closes his phone and shoves it into his pocket, trying not to look as angry as he feels. 

“What?” Dell asks, and Bo sighs, brushing some of the hair off his forehead. 

“Just Mari giving me shit, it’s fine.” Dell frowns.

“What did she say about the schedule?” He asks, voice distorted by congestion and fever. Bo takes a deep breath.

“Today and tomorrow everything’s cancelled.” Dell still looks confused.

“Why though?” Bo is really having to weigh the benefits and drawbacks of being truthful. If he lies, Dell might feel better for the moment, but he’s eventually going to find out the reality. But if he is honest - that he told Mari he was too sick to get out of bed - it’ll cause some more immediate problems. Bo decides that he’s going to keep an even keel, and cross the truth-bridge when they get there.

“I think someone last night noticed you weren’t feeling well.” Dell doesn’t look totally satisfied with that answer. “Your mom maybe?” Dell’s expression immediately shifts to one of almost childlike disbelief, and Bo immediately feels guilty. 

“Yeah?” he asks softly, and a lump forms in Bo’s throat. Would it be so terrible to lie if it’d make him feel so much better? He’s so sick he might not even remember their conversation.

“Mmhmm.” He’s really digging himself a hole here. Dell’s going to be devastated when he finds out it’s not true, but for now if it’s what’s going to keep him in bed that’s probably the most important thing. For most people the worst outcome of not getting proper rest with something this bad would be a prolonged recovery, which isn’t great, but it’s much better than what he knows Dell’s experienced twice - sepsis. When a normal infection gets into the bloodstream and wrecks absolute havoc. Insane fever, every nerve screaming, heart racing -

He hasn’t witnessed it himself, just heard the second-hand accounts from some of the other staff, but he knows enough. The awful immune system, the scar on his sternum, the nightmares and panic attacks - that’s where they all come from. One bout after pneumonia went untreated for two weeks when he was 15, the second from a kidney infection when he was 22. And Bo swears it’ll be over his dead body before it happens a third time. 

So maybe he is overreacting, but he’d rather overreact than have to see Dell go through anything like that. Which is all the more reason Dell needs the med assist. 

“Just when I thought she finally, fully, 100% hated my guts...” Dell mumbles, and Bo bites his lip. He types a text to Mari.

who denied medical?

He slips the phone back into his pocket, and goes back to stroking Dell’s hair. He seems so content, like he’s ready to fall asleep.

“Wait, take these first,” Bo says, and hands him two ibuprofen. He downs them quickly, and wastes no time curling back up under the comforter. Bo’s phone vibrates in his pocket.

who do you think? Bo sighs. Another text comes in.

could definitely change though. she’s trying to set some meetings back up, without him obviously, so she might want him distracted

“You keep looking at your phone like that. What does that mean?” Dell mumbles, and Bo rubs his eyes. 

“It’s just Mari, it’s fine.” He slides it back into his pocket and tries to process everything that’s happening. Dell pouts.

“She’s being mean to you?” He almost smiles, but the look on Dell’s face is earnest. He tests the blonde’s forehead. Definitely a little warmer. Once a fever starts getting into the neighborhood of 103, Dell is a little less...filtered. 

“I can’t talk shit about her, especially not to you,” Bo says, and Dell tries to roll his eyes, but his face screws up in pain. Bo smirks. “What’s up?”

“My entire face fucking hurts.” He takes a deep breath, and Bo’s glad it sounds like his lungs are doing fine. He presses the heels of his palms against his eyes and groans. “My teeth hurt, Bo. My teeth. They’re bones.” Bo can’t suppress a laugh. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dell looks at him like he’s an idiot.

“Bones are like...rocks.”

“They are 100% not like rocks. Why do you think it hurts when you break something?”

“Because there’s stuff around it - whatever.” He takes another deep breath and sneezes wetly into his elbow, followed by a soft moan. “Mari sucks. Why can’t we talk about Mari?” he mumbles, and Bo is surprised he remembers the beginning of the conversation. That said, he’s still clearly operating under the fever - he’d never be so candid if he was in his right mind.

“Because it’d be unprofessional,” Bo says, and Dell laughs.

“How does fucking me fit into unprofessionalism?” He asks, and Bo’s a little relieved he seems to have enough mental wherewithal to be sarcastic. 

“Ok, yeah. You’re right.” Bo’s hand has stopped playing with Dell’s hair. “She just said something about me being wrapped around your finger.” Dell opens his eyes wearily.

“More please,” he mumbles, and Bo furrows his brow. “Your hand. Do more.” Bo cracks a smile and continues his ministrations, carefully running his fingertips through the gold-blonde curls.

“I think she was right,” he says, and Dell frowns.

“Bout what?” 

“I’m wrapped around your finger.”

“No, it’s uh...the snakes. Around that thing,” he says and sniffles again. Bo hands him a tissue.

“I’m not following,” Bo says, catching himself before pulling his hand away from his hair. 

“It’s like...two snakes. Around a thing. It’s on a bunch of stuff...” he says, trailing off, and Bo racks his brain.

“Can you give me...literally anything a little more specific?” Bo asks, and although he’s joking, feverish Dell doesn’t seem to get it.

“I’m trying, my head hurts,” he says, sounding genuinely dismayed, and Bo runs a thumb over his hot temple.

“I know, I’m just teasing.” The image suddenly pops into Bo’s head. “Caduceus! The staff with the two snakes, right?”

“Yeah, I guess. They’re like...they’re wrapped around each other. That’s you and me. Wrapped around each other.” Dell closes his eyes, finally seeming content now that he’s gotten a thought across. 

After that, Dell falls asleep for real, which gives Bo a little time to handle everything else that’s going on.

He walks into the kitchen and closes the door before calling Mari.

“Hey,” she says. “Good news. You’ve got your medical but bad news is I don’t think you’re gonna like it.”

“Why wouldn’t I like it?”

“I’m pretty sure the plan is to have a doctor deem him physically unfit for any sort of real political office.” Bo feels a spike of anger in his chest. “It’s kind of bullshit but it might be better in the long run. With everything going on the past few months, he hasn’t been this bad since college. Or so I’m told. It’s what Will says, anyway.” Will’s been working PR for the royals about 10 years now. “He said stress makes it worse. And you know things have been pretty fucking stressful.” 

Bo doesn’t know where to begin. There’s too much he wants to say.

“You there?” She asks, and Bo sighs.

“Yeah. Unfortunately.” 

“They said they wanted the people there asap, so I’d keep a lookout.”

It’s then that Bo hears voices from the other room.

“I’ve gotta go,” he says, and hangs up before hearing her reply. He walks back into the main living area and sees Dell sitting up against the headboard, a young man and two young women are huddled around him. Bo clears his throat, and they turn.

“Bowen, correct?” the man asks, and Bo nods. “Seeing as Mr. Hagen won’t be needing your services for the rest of the day, you’re free to leave.”

“Bo stays,” Dell says before Bo can even open his mouth. The man nods.

“Alright.” One of the women is pulling out some medical tools, the other seems to be prepping a blood draw. The man doesn’t bother introducing himself to Bo, just continues on his conversation with Dell. Bo can’t be sure what’s already been said, but it’s safe to assume Dell downplayed the severity. 

One of the women, Bo guesses they must be nurses, takes Dell’s temperature with an over the forehead reader. Bo braces himself for the reading.

“100.3. Low grade,” she says, and Dell shoots him a look. Either the fever’s miraculously broken in the five minutes Bo’s been gone, or Dell knows how to cheat the thermometer. The nurse taking his blood pressure frowns.

“That’s odd, he’s very warm. Do we have the tympanic?” The other nurse nods, and grabs an ear thermometer from the bag. Dell’s face has fallen. She puts it in his ear and and he sighs. It beeps, and she pulls it back.

“That’s more like it. 103.1.”

“Fuck,” Dell breathes, and the nurse rubs his shoulder.

“It’s alright, just your body fighting to get well.”

“I know,” he whispers. He looks like he might cry. He doesn’t so much as blink when the other nurse starts taking his blood.

“So we’ve gone over how you’re feeling today...” the man says, flipping through pages in a file. “You said mild headache, upper respiratory congestion?” Dell nods. “We’ll add the fever in, and your blood pressure is low...” He draws out his words as he scribbles things down onto the paper. “Obviously I’m just the RN, and Dr. Jones -”

“Dr. Jones?” Dell interrupts.

“That’s who was requested, right?” Dell frowns.

“I didn’t re- where’s Dr. Hansen?” He asks, and the RN looks surprised but not confused. He looks down at the sheet and presses his lips into a line.

“Alright, uh, I see the problem. Dr. Hansen’s -”

“Don’t tell me he’s busy. He’s not busy. He gets paid to be on call, it’s his job to not be busy,” Dell snaps, and Bo’s a little taken aback. He’s never heard Dell demand anything before. “I know what’s going on here, ok? I’m not an idiot.”

“I think your temp-” one of the nurses starts, and he cuts her off.

“I’m not mad because I have a fever, ok? I’m mad because I’m 24 years old and I’m being treated like a child.” He sighs and rubs his eyes. “I apologize, I’m just very frustrated,” he says, and it’s odd to hear him all of a sudden using his professional voice. “I know it’s not...I’m sorry, this is just your job.” He takes a long pause. “My mother made this request -”

“Oh, no. We were told it was uh...your assistant?” He turns to Bo, “I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

“Bowen,” Dell says, voice flat.

“Right. Bowen spoke with Marina, and communicated to her that you were too ill to leave bed. Marina in turn put in a medical assistance request.” 

Dell pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. 

“Ok, whatever.” He sighs, and when he opens his eyes he looks completely exhausted. “What I mean to say is Dr. Jones reports to my mother, and Dr. Hansen is the doctor with whom I have a confidentiality agreement, so if I’m going to be seen by somebody, I need it to be him. And additionally I’d appreciate it if the vitals were reported exclusively to Dr. Hansen.” 

The RN seems to have no problem with this, looking almost relieved that he hasn’t done something wrong.

“Alright, sounds good. Will do. Is there anything else I should tell him?” His pen is hovering over the paper.

“You can tell Dr. Jones I did a thousand pushups. And to go fuck himself.” The RN laughs nervously, but Dell’s face is blank. “Apologies for my language I’m fuck-” he catches himself and lets out a shuddering breath. “I’m really not feeling well.”

“Right, speaking of that,” the RN seems to be relieved the non-medical part of the conversation has ended, “Like I said I’m not Dr. - I’m not the one who makes the diagnosis, but with a fever that high I’m surprised you don’t feel worse.” He flips back a few pages. “From what you described I’d guess a common cold but it doesn’t square with your vitals.”

“Can I be frank with you?” Dell asks, and the RN twirls his pen nervously.

“Of course, sir.”

“I’m exhausted. If you have what you need -” The RN stands up immediately, and motions for the nurses to grab the bags.

“Yes, of course. Absolutely.” The hurriedly pack their things, and are gone without a trace in under a minute. Dell’s still sitting upright, leaning back against the headboard, eyes closed. Bo sits down on the edge of the mattress. Carefully, he runs his fingers through Dell’s hair.

“I’m not mad at you,” he whispers, but Bo doesn’t reply, just keeps playing with his hair. “You’re just worried about me, you don’t...” he sighs shakily. “You don’t know how fucked up everything is.”

Bo feels tears start to well up in his eyes, and a lump form in his throat.

“hey, hey, it’s alright,” Dell says, and Bo shakes his head.

“I hate seeing you in pain. I fucking hate it. And this is my fault. All of it.” He chokes back and sob and rubs his eyes. “And now I’m crying, and you’re comforting me which is ridiculous, and you’re still burning up and you still have that headache because I can see that crease between your eyebrows, and -”

“Relax.” He grabs Bo’s hand gently. His hot thumb runs back and forth over Bo’s knuckles. “Just relax.” Bo tries, and Dell gives him a sad little smile. “Trying to take care of me is...it’s like trying to build a house of cards in a hurricane. It’s rotten work.”

Bo looks down at their intertwined hands, then back up to Dell’s eyes. He tries to keep his gaze steady.

“Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

[queen-of-deans-booty]

He Gives You Everything You Need

Characters: Sam Winchester x Skinwalker!Reader, Dean Winchester

Word Count: 1,436

Warnings: being sick as a wolf, just so much fluff

Request by @gabrielslittleangel​: Reader is a werewolf (she can shift into a wolfie) and she gets sick, and she’s stuck in her wolf form, so they have to take care of her as a wolf. 

Summary: Shifting between your human form and your wolf form is painful enough as it is. Add an illness, and it’s unbearable.

Squares Filled: sat on his lap instead of the chair for @spnfluffbingo // shapeshifter in @spngenrebingo // common cold in @badthingshappenbingo​ // “She... I mean- she’s... she’s sweet and she’s beautiful and she’s just kinda sorta perfect.” for @spnquotebingo​ // food for @goodthingshappenbingo​

Fandom: Supernatural

Beta: she wants to remain anonymous

Author’s Note: If you have any requests, please send them in!

Feedback the glue that holds my writing together

Tags at the bottom

It’s that time of the season where the common cold makes it way back into civilization. Some people get it, and some don’t, and it’s usually the people who don’t think they’re going to get it. You’re one of those people. You haven’t done anything to warrant otherwise, but the cold found you through the sea of people. What’s worse is that you’re a shapeshifter and have been stuck in your wolf form for a while now. Sam and Dean think you’re stuck, but you like this version of yourself a lot better than the human version.

There’s just something so satisfying about being a dog. You have no responsibilities, you can run around in mud all day, you get to eat whatever you can fit into your mouth, and no one questions you when you do anything. You like being human when Sam and Dean are on a case because you get to help them out a lot better than if you were a wolf. There are certain things you can do as a human, and certain things you can do as a wolf.

You can’t have both.

When you turned back into your wolf form, you didn't know you had already contracted the common cold. You could go to the veterinarian, but you’d much rather go to a human doctor. They know what they’re doing more than veterinarians. If you’re in pain, then you might switch from a wolf to a human in front of the doctor. As a human, you know you can take the pain. If you’d known you’d be sick, then you might have stayed in your human form just a little while longer. After years of going through this, you know it’s better to be sick as a human than as an animal. You can’t communicate properly about what you need and how you’re feeling if you’re a dog.

You’d switch back, but it’s a very painful process.

Most people think shapeshifting is an easy thing to do when really, it’s full of pain and agony. Your bones shift to fit the animal or human you’re trying to imitate. Your nervous system has to be rewired in order to accommodate the thing you’re turning into. It’s why you like to stay in your wolf form whenever you’re at home. You’ve been shifting since you could walk, so the pain isn’t that bad, but it’s not like it’s a walk in the park either.

Sam and Dean are home right now since there is no case to handle. You’re very sick, but you know you’d feel a little bit better if you’re in the arms of one of the brothers. Dean is working on his car since you can smell the oil. Even with your congested nose, you can still smell the potent oil. Sam is reading in the library while sitting on the chair you got at a swap meet for only 20 bucks. It’s big and comfy, but it’s also full of dust. You tried getting as much dust out of it as possible, but there is still a lingering smell.

You walk into the library with your ears bent and your tail between your legs. You’re a small dog for a wolf but bigger than the average pet. Sam looks up from his book when he hears your nails tapping against the wood floors.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks when you get to his feet.

You look up and whimper at him with the biggest puppy dog eyes you know you can do. You howl softly and sneeze, looking down once more.

“Are you sick?” he asks, and you nod your head.

You’ve learned to understand human language whenever you’re taking on the form of an animal. It was hard to get used to, but you’re a pro at it now.

“Why don’t you shift back into a human and take some medicine?”

You tip your head back and howl as if you’re telling him, “fuck you, no, I’m not going to do that”. He knows how much it hurts you to shift, so he can only imagine what the pain would be like if you’re not feeling well.

“Are you hungry? I can get you something light to eat. How does chicken sound? I know we still have some.”

All you can do is nod, and he gets up to cook you the meat. Humans wouldn’t eat chicken if they aren’t feeling well, but since you’re a dog, the meat is good for your stomach. Dogs and humans have different digestive systems when it comes to being sick and what they can and can’t eat. It doesn’t take Sam long to cook the chicken, and soon he’s sitting back in his chair. He’s about to lay the plate on the floor when you hop onto his lap. He chuckles and makes enough room so that it’s comfortable for both of you.

“Want me to feed you?” he asks.

He does so without your response since he knows how much you like it. Even as a human, you like it when people feed you (especially Sam). He takes a big piece of chicken and holds it out for you, and you snatch it up. The chicken is at the right temperature, so it doesn’t burn your mouth, and you quickly swallow it. You eat everything on the plate in less than five minutes. It would have taken you one or two, but you wanted to take your time with this.

As soon as Sam moves the plate out of the way, you rest your head on his chest and close your eyes. You’re very tired and worn out, and he allows you to use him as a pillow. He smells so good and feels so comfy that you don’t want to move. He reaches up and pets your head while reading his book with one hand. He scratches your head lightly with his fingernails, and it’s enough o put you into a light sleep.

Dean comes in while wiping the oil that’s on his hands off on a towel and sees you and Sam together. He knows his brother has had a crush on you for the past few years, and he’s never done anything about it. He knows about your crush on his brother too, and he’s going to do something about it soon if you two don’t.

“What’s going on?” he asks and nods to you.

“She’s sick, and so I made her some chicken to eat.”

“You tell her how you feel yet?”

“No, Dean, and I don’t think I’m going to.”

“Why not? She’s the perfect woman for you. Why are you so afraid?”

“Can we not talk about this right now? She’s right here.”

“She’s asleep. I can hear her snores even from where I’m standing. What are you afraid of?”

“I’m not,” Sam mumbles.

“Bullshit.”

“Would you just drop it?”

“How can I when I always see you two eye-fucking each other whenever either of you looks away. You know she won’t turn you down.”

“I know. I guess that’s what I’m afraid of. She deserves someone better than me.”

“You are the only one who is good for her. We’ve known her for, what, ten years? I’ve never seen two people get along so well like the two of you.”

“How can I be sure I’d give her what she needs? What she wants? She... I mean--she’s... she’s sweet, and she’s beautiful, and she’s just kinda sorta perfect. What can I offer her?”

“That’s a question you have to answer. Ask her out before someone else does. She won’t wait for you forever,” Dean says and leaves the room.

Sam knows you’ll eventually give up waiting for him and look for someone else. He knows he should have asked you out years ago, but he’s too afraid that you won’t ever be satisfied with him. He can’t give you everything you deserve, and he doesn’t know how you feel about that. If you happened to reject him, he won’t ever come back from that. It’ll ruin what you two have now. But, then again, if you accept him for who he is, then he could have years filled with love and happiness with the woman he loves.

The reason you went to Sam is that he makes you feel safe. There is no one in the entire world you’d rather spend your life with than the man whose arms you’re in. He may not be able to give you everything you want, but he definitely gives you everything you need.

Wanna get tagged? Add yourself to this document! If your tag doesn’t work, find out why!

@li-ssu @babypink224221​ @fluffydanger​ @winchesterweirdo @jennazeise​ @calaofnoldor​ @miraclesoflove​ @xxboesefrauxx​ @kendall-michele​ @007zada​ @nahigm​ @sandlee44​ @a--1--1--3​ @paintballkid711​ @musiclovinchic93​ @whizzer1320 @essie1876​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @fuckwby​ @gh0stgurl​ @ballistic-bailey​ @scarletmeii​ @mizzezm​ @miraclesoflove​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @katherine097​ @posiemax​ @countrygal17a​ @knowledgefulbutterfly​ @justalonely-nerd​ @deanloveboi​

[thetourguidebarbie]

Try #2, because the last one had a weird read more problem.

I listened to Last Kiss by Taylor Swift and got a little emo, okay? Hopeful ending, but real angsty on the way. Canon-compliant as much as I know how, because I didn’t watch a single episode of TO.

--

The burn in her lungs was familiar when she woke, every breath painful and heavy, dragging spikes across the insides of her ribs. The room was dark, but she’d lived at the boarding house long enough to know exactly where she was. Her mind was sluggish, her memories fuzzy. The last thing she could recall was tattling about Klaus’s unforgivably stupid plan to Elijah and agreeing on a course of action before heading back to get the girls ready to help out. She’d blacked out as soon as she’d entered the house.

The tiny window peeking out of the only part of the wall above ground was completely dark, and she choked back a sob as she immediately realized what that must have meant. The ritual had most likely been done at this point, though whether the plan carried out was hers or Klaus’s wouldn’t be clear until she escaped, and she had a feeling that she couldn’t shake that things hadn’t turned out the way she wanted.

She had no doubt of who was behind knocking her out and locking her up. Ric could hold a grudge, and he hadn’t danced around the fact that he thought her feelings for Klaus were impacting her judgment. She’d been much more understanding with him than she should have been, and she had no doubt that if Ric had his way, her payment for coddling his hurt feelings would be Klaus’s corpse.

She’d just managed to pull herself to her feet when the door to the basement opened and she saw Ric in the doorway, giving her what she was sure was supposed to be an understanding smile. He’d never quite gotten out of the habit of condescending to her despite her now being in her late thirties--something she suspected had to do with him having been her teacher--but she’d never found it more infuriating than she did at this moment.

“What the hell, Ric?”

She’d come pretty close to killing him multiple times over the last sixteen years, generally for things involving diaper changes or because he’d never seemed to learn how to clean up after himself, and she always had to remind herself that the girls would be upset.

“He’s gone,” Alaric said softly. “Caroline, I’m—“

“You locked me up to stop me from saying goodbye. You do not get to say you’re sorry,” she hissed, her eyes hot as tears gathered at her lashes. “How fucking dare you—“

“He’s clouding your judgment—“

“My judgment?” Caroline asked, her voice starting to become shrill, fingernails digging into her palms. “Seriously? You’re the one who held a stupid grudge for over a decade, Ric! No one had to die for this.”

“The Hollow—“

“Could have been put in something else! Elijah said he would take it.”

“He did, Caroline,” Alaric said, his hands up in a placating gesture, and Caroline felt all the stress bleed out of her.

“So you meant Elijah, then? Klaus isn’t...” she trailed off, the word ‘dead’ not quite able to pass through her lips.

Alaric winced, which was not a good sign, and she felt all of her rage and grief come back. She didn’t love Klaus, but she could, she’d looked forward to trying to, and the loss of that future she’d wanted so desperately after the girls were grown would be devastating. “What happened, Ric? Why did you lock me up? What did you do?”

“I couldn’t pass up this chance to take him out, Caroline. You have to understand—“

“I don’t. Explain.”

“I had the girls do the binding ritual he planned originally.”

“You idiot,” Caroline choked out. “Are you serious?”

“I didn’t kill him,” Alaric said, putting his hands up in a placating gesture that only made her madder. "He was the one who--"

"I know he wanted it, but that was stupid of him. I had a plan, Ric. How could you do this to me? After everything I've done for you. You couldn't let me have this one thing? You couldn't trust me to know what I was doing?"

“Well, Damon—“

“Nope, never mind, you’re done explaining,” Caroline interrupted, her lip curling. Of course Damon was continuing to ruin everything even slightly good in her life. “I’m done, Ric.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m done. I’m taking Hope and the girls and we’re going...I don't know. Away. We're going to figure this...this thing out. And you need to leave us alone."

"I'm not leaving the girls."

"You don't have a choice," Caroline shot back, her eyes fire, her nails drawing blood as they bit into her palms. "I'll compel you if I have to, Ric. I swear to god, I will."

"For Klaus?" he demanded. "You'll take away my kids because I didn't save a crazy mass murderer? He's tried to kill us all, Caroline."

"No, I'm doing this for me," she said, her voice somehow even despite the rage and grief she felt brewing inside of her. "For me and the girls. Hope will want her dad back, and Josie and Lizzie..." she swallowed, looking away, refusing to meet his eyes because if she did she wasn't sure she could keep it together if they made eye contact. "We'll figure something out. You can see them in the summer, maybe. But you need to leave me alone. I'm serious."

"But I--"

"You've done enough. Seriously," she bit out. "Now, let me out before I make you. I need to go."

To Klaus's place. To see if she could find something to bring him back. Anything.

He looked like he wanted to argue, but she was thankful when he didn't, simply stepping aside and letting her go. He probably thought that they'd talk later, when she'd calmed down. It was a familiar pattern to their disagreements, one that always read to her as grossly relationshippy, though she'd tried to convince herself that he thought they were co-parenting platonically even if he looked at her sometimes in a way that made her feel a visceral disgust deep in her gut.

He was lucky that she didn't break his neck on the way out, honestly. After all she'd done for him he repaid her by betraying her like this... She'd always known he was a garbage person, but seriously. It was a new low.

She took a deep, shaky breath, squinting her eyes in the too-bright sunlight, her undead heart thumping against her chest, her entire body quivering from adrenaline. She needed to get in control of this situation somehow, needed a plan. Somehow she could fix this, right? Hopefully Klaus's mansion would provide her with some kind of sign...

-

"You can't go up there, sorry!"

Caroline frowned at the probably-hybrid standing at the bottom of the stairs leading to the second floor of Klaus's New Orleans mansion. It was the last place she had to check after the various hybrids had suspiciously let her snoop through the ground floor. They knew who she was, at least on some level, but they hadn't been all that helpful.

The guard's smile was pleasant, but there was an undercurrent of danger that made Caroline's hackles rise, her gut twisting in a sudden fear that felt foreign to her until she realized why she was suddenly so nervous. The feeling of safety she usually had when interacting with werewolves had evaporated, now. Klaus had been her insurance policy; she'd always known that even if she wouldn't have admitted it. She'd never felt truly unsafe around werewolves, because she knew Klaus would come to give her the cure if it came to that.

And now he was gone.

"Why not?"

"Klaus doesn't let people into his room. Not even the help."

"That doesn't matter anymore," Caroline said quietly, swallowing audibly before she spoke again, slightly impressed that the words didn't catch in her throat, that she managed to choke them out. "He's dead."

The hybrid frowned. "Dead? He's invincible. That's impossible."

"Yeah, well, he found a way," Caroline said, not bothering to conceal her bitterness. That he'd left. Left her.

The hybrid seemed torn for a moment before her lips thinned. "I can't let you up. I'm sorry."

Caroline sighed. "Okay," she said, before reaching out to snap the hybrid's neck and nudging her body out of the way to make her way up the stairs. She found what was clearly his studio and then a bathroom (neither turning up anything helpful) before finally getting the right door. She could tell it was his bedroom from the lingering scent of him, and when she looked around, she couldn't have been less surprised by what it looked like.

She'd been curious (in passing, of course), had wondered about it (casually!) about two or maybe a hundred times over the past almost two decades. All the furniture was dark wood, the closet door slightly ajar with the light still on revealing shelves that appeared to be stocked with stacks of henleys and jeans, a few pairs of boots haphazardly grouped in a clump on the floor, one of his leather jackets tossed carelessly over the back of an armchair that sat by a big bay window.

But nothing useful.

The light felt stifling, suddenly, and she reached to close the blinds, sinking down on the soft, slate grey sheets of his bed. The comforter was still crumpled on the left side, clearly not having been disturbed since Klaus woke that morning. It was weird, being in what was so clearly his space. The bed unmade, little pieces of him strewn around so easily, waiting for him to return. Just like her.

She felt her eyes fill with tears, her nose suddenly feeling a bit tight from congestion, and she pressed her lips tightly together to restrain the sob that welled in her throat. God, she'd been so stupid.

She'd thought that Elijah could make him see that what he was doing was selfish, even as much as he thought it was to protect Hope and the rest of his family. She'd thought that he'd stay for her. That he'd find a way out, the way he had so many times before. He was supposed to be the most powerful being in the world, and he let himself get defeated by some stupid magic trick.

He'd died before he could give her the eternity that he'd promised her. The however long it takes  he'd said with such sincerity at that football field so many years ago had been real then, and she knew that, but the crushing reality was that the promise of forever with her hadn't been enough for him to live for, to fight for.

They were immortal, and she thought she had all the time in the world. A part of her had been scared that she'd taken too much, that he wouldn't want her anymore. That had changed in the last few days, the realization that he cared for her as much as he'd promised he would in Mystic Falls.

And then he'd taken it all away. He'd left her.

If she had only known that giving into what she wanted, giving into him, in the forest would be the last kiss she'd ever give him, the last time she'd ever feel his skin against hers, she would have made different choices. He'd offered her his number and told him to call if she wanted to, and god had she wanted to... But she had thought they'd had time. But then with the girls and Ric and her own insecurities, she'd convinced herself that she wasn't ready. She just needed to get settled in a job, just needed to let the girls get a bit older, just needed to get the school a bit more settled... Not yet, not yet, not yet. But soon.

The forest was supposed to be the first kiss. A beginning. The start of an epic love story that lasted forever.

And instead she was sitting on the carpet of his bedroom floor with her spine uncomfortably wedged against the clawed foot of the bedframe with no memory of when she'd sat or how the pillow she was clutching to her chest had ended up in her arms with her faced smushed into it as she cried. But it smelled like him. For now, at least. Even with her stronger senses, that scent would fade, just like the memories she was clutching to with a tight hold that she knew would eventually slip through her fingers, the ghost of a possibility of an epic love that she'd had within her grasp but never quite let herself catch.

It was crushing to realize that what she'd thought was soon had actually been almost. That it was too late.

She sniffled, her eyes squeezed shut, tears soaking into the fabric, her face raw from trying to wipe them away even as she knew it was useless, that they'd just keep coming, and she felt ridiculous for it. She could remember those pretty words from the party his mother had threw before his family splintered, how he'd told her that she was strong and full of light.

If only he could see her now, she thought wryly, crumpled on his bedroom floor and crying her eyes out for a fucking almost. Crying because he'd left her and she was furious at him for doing it, for leaving her to pick up the pieces with nothing more than a sad, dimpled smile and empty promises.

How dare he? How dare he crash into her life with his stupid promises and compliments and reassurances and then just leave her. Wasn't she worth anything to him? He'd done everything he could to show her that she was enough, that she was worth the trouble, and then instead of any kind of follow-through he was just like, 'whoops, Caroline, I know I promised you forever but I guess I'll just give up on you and die instead.'

And she was a blink of an eye to him, anyway, wasn't she? He must have had hundreds of almosts, of potential forevers.

When she thought of what she wanted for her forever, she'd always pictured it being theirs, instead.

Her skin was raw, her vampire powers slowing the recovery of it from her lack of recent meals, too consumed with getting to his house, with finding any kind of clue or idea or possibility that he could still be alive, retrievable, that they still had a chance. Her eyelids felt crusty, her nose stuffed and likely tomato-colored, and she winced when she brushed a thumb against her wet cheek at the scrape of roughness against her skin. She got up on shaky legs and sat down on his bed, flopping down on her back and hugging the pillow close, letting it ground her, still sniffling.

He'd never see that she wasn't a pretty crier.

-

When she woke, she became immediately aware that her cheek felt like it was one giant hive, the burn and itch of it making her teeth sink into her lower lip before she gasped out in pain, tears pricking at the already raw skin around her eyelids.

She heard a soft murmur of an apology from a voice she'd recognize anywhere, and when she opened her eyes, she saw Klaus withdrawing his hand from where it had been on her cheek, his body strangely transluscent, the front of his henley torn open to show a deep wound in his chest that didn't seem to be healing despite the powers he was supposed to have.

"Klaus?" she asked, hardly daring to believe what her eyes were telling her, that he was here, even if he clearly wasn't whole. She wanted to reach for him, to touch him, to feel his skin against her hand and remind herself of how his body had felt against hers, wanted to kiss him and remind herself of what his lips had felt like that day in the woods, the day of their first kiss.

The day of what she'd been denying had been their last one.

He was looking at her with reverence, and she hissed as he reached to touch her again, the burning itch immediately blooming on her skin. He withdrew his hand immediately with a wince, letting it dangle uselessly by his side as he drank her in, scanning her as though to check for injuries, to reassure himself that she was as whole as she wished he was.

When he spoke, his voice was rough, but the familiar rasp of it ignited every inch of her with hope that she could fix what had gone wrong, what he'd so stupidly done in the name of protecting his family. And her.

That this wasn’t the ending to their story that she’d worried it was.

"Hello, love."

[okaybutlikeimagine]

What if Billy got sick but cause he’s so used to pushing through it he didn’t think it was a big deal

(as of writing this, I, too, am sick!! >w

Ohmydear the poor poor hun!!! Okay you SO know that this child wouldn’t do anything about being sick. Like this kid is gonna be sick as a dog and still get totally set to go to school that day. Just bc he thinks he needs to!!!

Like…. He can’t remember the last time someone helped him through being sick. Sometimes when he was sick back in Cali, Max would bring him the bag of cough drops they kept in the bathroom or pour out the cold medicine when Billy was too dizzy to do it himself. He did the same for her when Neil and Susan were too busy to notice she needed it. When Susan was too busy attending to Neil to coddle Max like a baby.

But Billy never got that. Never really accepted it from the handful of times that Susan timidly offered bc accepting help from her felt poisonous. It always felt poisonous. There was never really a maternal care to be found in her eyes. Any that lingered there was always covered by a very genuine fear that pissed Billy off more than anything. Neil only did enough to make sure Billy didn’t actually die from his cold bc nothing pissed Neil off more than having to lug Billy to the hospital and pay for it.

So when he wakes up congested, he doesn’t do anything about it. He doesn’t tell anyone, he doesn’t say anything, he legit just goes about his day like normal. If he coughs a little roughly every now and then, no one notices (or Billy’s too out of it to see Hop giving him a concerned look).

So Billy keeps going to school, keeps going to work, keeps going to basketball practice, and obviously??? Keeps getting worse.

His voice is getting nasally and he glares at Hop when he mentions it.

He sneezes about 5 times in a row and flicks El in the shoulder when she whimpers and says “gross”.

He starts wearing so many layers to school that Tommy is actually concerned but shuts up as soon as Billy gives him a glare that promises death.

He pukes up his dinner one night and blames it on drinking. He relies on the hope that Hop will be too busy giving him a lecture on not drinking on a school night that he won’t question his sickness.

It’s not until he wakes up and he can’t breathe and his head is throbbing like someone’s put it in a vice and his throat is on fire that he decides now might be a good time to scavenge for something to help him.

So he gets up and wobbles himself over to the bathroom, digging through the medicine cabinet for anything he can possibly take to help himself. He finds some painkillers and children’s cough medicine. He briefly considers downing the bottle of syrup but, even in his sick haze, convinces himself it’s a stupid idea and instead wanders out into the rest of the cabin to grab his keys.

He runs into Hop first.

Like, legitimately walks right into Hop bc he’s walking with his eyes nearly closed bc he can’t keep them open.

“Woah- uh?”

“Hey.” Billy mumbles, but it comes out as more of a grunt. He goes to move around Hop but he just kinda rocks over bc his feet decide they don’t wanna move anymore.

Hop grabs onto Billy’s shoulders to stabilize him.

“Woah there, kid. You look like shit.”

Billy grumbles.

“And you’re Miss America?” Billy slurs, finally taking a step around Hop and making his way towards the door.

Hop turns enough to get a hold of the boy again, who’s now growling or… moaning? It sounds more like a ghost moaning in agony.

Hop’s not okay with this.

“Seriously, are you alright?”

“M’fine….” Billy groans out, weakly shaking his wrist to get Hop off of him.

Hop briefly considers letting go bc he feels bad, but he gets his other hand on Billy’s forehead and flips out.

“Holy shi- you’re burning.” He says, grabbing a harder hold of Billy’s wrist and pulling him gently towards his bed.

“Stooop…” Billy groans again, tripping over his feet as he’s pulled.

Hop flops him down onto the bed, Billy’s body hitting it hard bc he can’t hold himself up right anymore. He immediately curls up, head throbbing harshly from the pain of standing for so long.

“How long have you been feeling like this?” Hop asks, walking over to the kitchen.

Billy groans in response.

“You sounded a little nasally the other day.” Hop adds.

Billy growls as menacingly as he can when there’s so much phlegm in his throat. It doesn’t really work.

“And you couldn’t keep your food down the other night. Wow, am i an idiot?” Hop says that last part under his breath to himself, amazed that he let this boy just walk around sick as a dog bc he kept pushing Hop away.

He walks back over with a wet towel and a glass of water.

“What’re you playing at, kid? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Billy swats at the wet towel being lowered towards his face. It’s incredibly weak and misses in the air.

“What’s there t’tell?” Billy asks, rocking his head back and forth to avoid the towel. His stomach starts to contract, Hop notices. He worries for a second it’s bc the boy is gonna throw up again, but in a few seconds Billy’s attempting to push himself up and out of bed.

Hop puts a hand on Billy’s chest and gently pushes him back down.

“You’re sick as a damn dog.”

“Mahhh… and? I’m fine. I’ll be fine.” Billy says, nose clearly stuffed up. He sounds like his lung is attempting to climb up his throat as he coughs.

Hop takes a deep breath of exasperation.

“Son, please. Lay down. I’m calling in to school.”

“But I have to… I have to… Max.”

Billy still drives Max to school everyday. Hop nods and waves his hand in the air in an act of dismissal.

“Right. Yeah, I’ll drive Max to school, you stay here and rest. I’ll be back”

“Mmm… work…?” Billy asks.

“I’ll let them know I can’t come in.”

“I’m fine.”

“Look, I’d leave you here but I’m worried you’re gonna try to go to school or work or something so for now I’m staying. Now shut up, I’m gonna make El make sure you don’t get up and I’m getting soup and medicine and… yeah. Maybe a thermometer.”

So Hop goes to Melvald’s, obviously. Bc he needs to buy medicine and stuff but he also needs to ask Joyce about what the fuck to do with a sick 17 yr old.

“Oh no, Billy’s sick?”

“Yup.” Hop says as he eyes up all of the different types of medicine. “What do you do when Jonathan gets sick?”

“Well I usually have to force him to stay home. My boys hate being home sick.”

Hop sighs bc he understands now. He picks up two different types of cough syrup and straightens out so he can analyze both.

Joyce walks up to him then, grabbing hold of both medicines gently and putting them down before picking up a completely different one and placing it in Hop’s hand.

“Jonathan and Will said this one isn’t as gross as the rest.” Joyce says, giving Hop a soft smile before walking through the store and picking out the best and most affordable brands of different things: tissues, a thermometer, cough drops. She also writes down a list of some good foods to feed him along with apple juice and some ginger ale. (“It’ll settle his stomach.”)

Hop follows behind her quietly, observing her choices and paying at the end. She sends him off with a pat on the back and the most motherly smile, telling him to “let me know if he needs anything else! And tell him I hope he gets well!”

So Hop walks back into the house, bags of medicines and such in his hands, where he sees El sitting on the couch tipping her head to the side every couple of seconds.

“What’s up, kiddo?”

“Making Billy stay still.” El says with another tilt of her head. Billy, who’s currently trying to get up, falls back down again (seemingly not of his own volition)

El looks at Hop with a lopsided smile. “A little bit. Trying to.”

Hop ruffles her hair and puts the bags on the counter.

“I’m fine.” Billy says like hes still trying to convince Hop. Like Hop didn’t just leave and come back with bags full of stuff just to help him get better.

Hop just rolls his eyes and takes out the medicine, making a little more than a half hearted attempt to read the label because honestly, he hasn’t bought cold medicine in ages. He used to abuse pills, but that’s very different.

He pours the right amount of syrup according to the chair and hands it over to Billy, who sits up and scrunches his nose at the liquid.

“I don’t need it.”

“God, you’re stubborn as a bull. Just drink the damn medicine.”

El looks curiously, eyeing the colorful liquid as Billy downs it like a shot. Billy makes a face afterwards, sticking his tongue out in a disgusted gesture that looks involuntary.

“Joyce said her boys think it’s less gross than the rest.” Hop says by way of apology, giving a pitying look to Billy as he takes the tiny cup back.

“Haven’t had that stuff in years.” Billy says, giving his head a little shake and curling back down into the bed.

El asks if she can have some and Hop just shakes his head no as he takes the thermometer out and asks El to put it under Billy’s tongue and read the number out loud as he goes to put some soup on the stove.

“One zero five.” El calls out, looking to Hop to figure out how to react to that.

“Holy shit, kid!”

El turns to Billy with a gasp.

“Holy shit, kid!” She mimics, which makes Billy chuckle (and then groan again with the pain of the movement) and makes Hop sputter before saying “Don’t say that again, sorry, shouldn’t have said that.”

So Hop, who was planning on going to work that night, stays and watches Billy. Like he’s a fucking baby who caught the flu. Billy’s understandably livid about his lack of freedom and the intense level of coddling.

“I don’t have like… fucking scarlet fever. I’m fine.” Billy says over a cough while Hop wraps him up in even more blankets. He’s tucking them underneath him like he’s a burrito.

“Shut it, kid. Do you want some more soup?”

“I’ve probably had 5 bowls at this point. No. I don’t want any more soup.”

And Billy groans and growls and whines and complains and Hop and El dote on him like he’s a baby and he wants to hate it, he does. He kind of does hate it, actually, but there’s not a lot of fire in his body over it right now bc 1. He’s weak from being so sick. And 2. It’s sweet. It’s really, really sweet. It’s annoying as all hell, but it’s sweet too so he’s gonna sit here and let it happen.

It’s not until the next day of soup and medicine and tissues and coughing and ginger ale that there’s a knock on the door.

“Hey, is Billy home?” comes the voice that Billy immediately recognizes as Steve.

“Uh-”

“Babe! Help!” Billy croaks from his bed, moving to get up but being pushed down by El’s powers. “They’re holding me hostage!”

It’s then that Steve rounds the corner to find Billy in bed, sweating and covered in blankets.

“Tell them I’m fine-”

“Oh my god, Billy! Are you alright? Why didn’t you tell me you were sick, I could have picked up something for you!”

“Hop bought the whole damn pharmacy yesterday.” Billy says, still congested and indicating the cough drops and medicine next to him on the table. “I-”

“Do you need some soup? How bout some water? Do you have a fever?” Steve places his hand on Billy’s forehead, then his cheek, then his neck, then into the collar of his shirt to his chest. “You’re burning up! What do you need? How are you feeling?”

And Billy, at this point… is blushing up a storm. Like…….. he’s been flushed the last few days from his sickness but suddenly he’s red as a tomato as this beautiful boy leans over him and dotes on him and-

“I’m dying.”

Hop scoffs loudly.

“Poor baby!” Steve gushes, rushing over to the kitchen in a flurry to grab some water and a towel. Billy grunts a little at being called a baby but it’s okay bc he gets to watch his boyfriend flutter around and care for him. “Here, put this on your head. My mom used to do this for me. Have you taken medicine today? Do you need more? How’s your throat doing? Do you want some tea?”

And with that, Billy snuggles into his blankets with a pitiful (and fake) look on his face, Steve coos in concern, and Hop grabs his hat.

“I’m heading down to the station. I think you can be off Billy duty for a while, kiddo.” Hop says to El before motioning to the TV. “Go ahead and watch some TV or something.”

El giggles and nods, sending Hop a wave before flopping down onto the couch to catch some cartoon reruns while Steve kisses Billy’s forehead with another coo.

[melonkooky]

love [jeon jungkook]

not requested

word count: 3901

genre: fluff, small angst, slice of life kinda thing, jungkook x reader

warnings: underage drinking, minor cussing

author’s note: i don’t have much to say other than the usual please ignore my mistakes and grammar errors lol. this one shot starts in high school and ends in adulthood, you’ll see what i mean when you read. sorry if this one shot is kind of a mess. but please enjoy it!!

please do not copy my work. but please like and reblog it. thank you!!!!

love (/ləv/) noun - an intense feeling of deep affection

if your mom, or dad, or friend, or anyone that you were close to had told you that you would find the one, that you would meet the love of your life within the next few years, you would have laughed and said, “yeah, right.” hell, you were like most people. you had the mindset that no one would ever love you, that you wouldn’t find someone that you could confide in, that you could love. you were convinced you would be alone.

but then you came across a boy named jeon jungkook. he was in your grade. you recognized him from previous years of school, but never really thought about him, much less looked at him. he was just another student.

but then he seemed to take an interest in you, one fortunate and faithful day. you and him were young, barely starting high school. he was nervous to say the least, but he walked up to you as you were opening your locker. you were shocked, felt shy, wasn’t sure of what to do or how to act. you haven’t really talked to boys.

the awkwardness and shyness went both ways, which ended up strengthening your bond.

you and him clicked and instantly became close friends. you and him were inseparable.

-

you hid a tiny laugh with the back of your hand, ducking your head down to hide behind the student in front of you.

jungkook next to you was laughing at you, but doing a much better job at hiding his laugh. he was staring at the board, as if he was paying attention to the teacher, but the small smile of his face told another story.

he had just roasted you. you were making fun of his corny jokes, going with the whole “your jokes are dry” scenario. and jungkook, being the young teenager he was, replied with, “you would know. your jokes are like the sahara desert.” it killed you.

only, you and jungkook’s playful bickering were interrupted by the teacher. “jeon jungkook and l/n y/n, do you guys want a seating chart?”

you say up, red faced, trying to hide another smile. “no, mrs. kim.” jungkook replied.

it was even harder after that.

-

jungkook was your other half. you and him bonded like no other. he was your rock through your hard times.

-

“i’m so stupid.” you mumbled.

jungkook looked at you with sad, worried eyes. you had skipped school, so naturally he walked to your house afterwards to check on you. he was surprised when he saw you crying. your face was red, eyes puffy, a look of totally hurt and devastation. his heart broke at the sight of his best friend being in so much pain.

“how could i actually like a stupid boy like him.” you continued, harshly rubbing your eyes with your fists.

jungkook gently grabbed your hands. he adjusted his posture on the side of your bed so that he could face you better. he leaned forward, catching your gaze. “he’s a dick.” he said, a serious look on his face.

you suppressed a grin. “he fucking cheated. he said he didn’t even like me in the first place. he just needed some entertainment.”

“and he’s an idiot for doing such a thing to you. do you want me to beat him up for you?”

you heard the joking tone of his voice, but knew fully well how serious he was.

“do you even remember your martial arts lessons?”

“hell yeah i do!” jungkook stood up and got into his stance. you saw how determined he was, but he still looked cute.

jungkook held his fists out in front of him and threw a few punches to the air. “tell me his address. i’ll take him out.” he pursed his lips, throwing another punch.

you bursted out laughing, feeling heavy weight lighten in your chest. you felt like you could breathe, function, and it felt good. you felt better.

jungkook turned as he heard your laughter and smiled, relaxing. he was proud of himself for being able to make you laugh and smile. he made you forget about your ex, even if it was just for a little bit.

-

love can be many things. it can come in all shapes and forms, no matter the time or place. and you cherished the love you began to feel for your best friend, especially after breaking up with your ex. you held onto it with a tight fist, not wanting to let it go. you just hoped that someday, jungkook would reciprocate it.

-

you wiggled in your big coat nervously as you walked up to the door belonging to the jeons’. it didn’t matter that it was freezing and snowing outside. you still walked the short distance from your house to jungkook’s, because he had told you he was sick.

you made him some soup - with the help of your mom - and hurried over. you have been there only a few times, so you were nervous. in fact, you felt a bit hot.

you knocked, adjusting yourself grip on the bowl of soup that you had so carefully carried over. a few seconds later, the door swung open, revealing the kind and warm face of his mom. she gasped, eyes sparkling. “y/n!”

your cheeks flushed warm and red. “mrs. jeon.”

“are you here for jungkook?” she asked.

you nodded. “i brought soup.”

“well, come inside, come inside.” she touched your shoulder as she ushered you inside. “it’s freezing.”

you thanked her. once inside, she helped you with your coat and then informed you that the sick boy was upstairs in bed. you hurried upstairs, eager to help your best friend and fellow crush. luckily the soup was still warm.

you knocked and entered, being quiet in case he was sick. but he was awake, and jungkook immediately smiled as he saw you enter. he looked pale, with a hint of red on his nose and cheeks. he seemed shy, probably because of your sudden appearance.

“i brought you some soup.” you presented it to him.

jungkook removed the lid and held it up to his nose. he could smell very well, but he still hummed and smiled warmly. “i can’t really smell it.” he laughed.

you gasped suddenly. “wait, you need a spoon.”

you ran back downstairs, said a hi to mr. jeon, grabbed a spoon, and ran back upstairs. jungkook laughed again, the noise coming from his mouth sounding congested and nasally. “there you go.”

you say on jungkook’s bed as he ate. you and him talked, joking around a bit.

as jungkook sipped the last bit of broth, he turned to place the bowl on his nightstand. you watched him, admiring his side profile. you were head over heels for him, there was no denying that. if only jungkook could see the way you looked at him. the love in your eyes alone could for sure tell him.

you had been staring at jungkook. you hadn’t realized. you had zoned out, and jungkook’s cheeks were darkening and turning red, not because he was sick. he was blushing. “y/n?”

“ah, sorry.” your own cheeks burned.

he smiled. “what’s on your mind?”

“just,” you paused, unsure of what to tell him. should you lie, make an excuse, or tell him? “thinking.” you finally said.

jungkook shifted his gaze away, making your feel nervous. why did he seem disappointed?

“well, you shouldn’t stay for long, y/n.” you felt a slight pang, like a needle poking your heart. but he continued, “i don’t want you to get sick because of me. then i would have to take care of you.”

although, i wouldn’t mind that, you thought. “oh, yeah.” you hesitated, glimpsing at jungkook’s soft gaze, before standing up.

you reached for your bowl, but was surprised when jungkook grabbed your wrist, holding you steady. then, he sat up and pressed his lips to your cheek. it was a quick, simple peck, and yet it was enough to make your heart race.

jungkook released your wrist, just as you turned to look at him. the warmth from his skin lingered. it felt like his fingers were still wrapped around your arm, a ghostly feeling. he was blushing and wouldn’t meet your eyes.

you weren’t sure of what to say.

“you’re responsible if i get sick, jeon jungkook.” you said, a teasing tone of voice.

“i know.” he replied, smiling.

-

eventually, the love you felt for jungkook was practically crawling underneath your skin. it was begging to be let out, released, to not be kept a secret anymore. it started to control what you do, both out of fear of hurting jungkook and out of fear of ruining the special relationship you and him had. but one day, you couldn’t keep it inside you anymore.

-

you and jungkook were chilling in your bedroom one afternoon. you and him had walked home from school. naturally, after being assigned a group project, you and jungkook were partners. and jungkook wanted to come over. of course, though, you should’ve known that he would get distracted.

jungkook was laying on your bed, his head hanging off the edge just slightly, enough to see what you were doing while you sat on the floor. you had your laptop in front of you. papers and notebooks were spread out. as you worked, jungkook made comments, watched, and ate all your snacks. maybe he was a little too comfortable.

he hummed along to the music in the background, singing along during the chorus. it would have been funny when he purposefully sang at higher or lower notes or botched the lyrics, but you were staring at him. you had been working so hard, slightly annoyed at jungkook for not helping. but in the end, you still had plenty of time to work on the project with jungkook. he knew that, and that was why he wasn’t paying attention.

perhaps it was because you already had so much love for him. but staring at him always entranced you. it was those candid moments. jungkook didn’t know that you were staring, so he continued being goofy and throwing snacks into his mouth.

suddenly, an all too familiar urge overcame you. one that always came when you were around him, in moments like this. you sighed and shook your head. now wasn’t the time.

but now you were feeling anxious, or like it was urgent, like you needed to fulfill your urge. but you were scared. what if jungkook didn’t like you back? you were on the verge of being overwhelmed by emotions. thank god jungkook wasn’t paying attention.

however, you made the mistake of glancing at him again. his skin, his jawline, his doe-like eyes, his adam’s apple, his lips… now was your chance.

without another moment of hesitation and overthinking, you turned and stood up on your knees, leveling your head with jungkook’s. he looked at you, confusion written over his face, a snack between his fingers. “y/n-”

and you pressed your lips to his after cupping his cheeks. you cut him off, afraid of what he was going to say. but then again, you couldn’t anticipate what he would say after. maybe this was a mistake.

sure, the kiss was a little out of the ordinary, like the one kiss from the movie spiderman, but it still made your nerves quiver, your insides to twist, your heart clench and race, this was something that you needed to do. it lifted weight off of your shoulders, it needed to be done if you ever were going to live.

you pulled away, avoiding his gaze, and sat down again. you were staring at your laptop, but you weren’t thinking about the project. jungkook was all over your mind. you wondered if the room suddenly felt hot, constricting. your mind was overthinking. what had you just done? were you going to lose your best friend? no, jungkook wouldn’t do that. things might, at least, be awkward.

you shook your head, finally hearing the bed creak behind you. jungkook had sat up and was cautiously moving towards the floor beside you. his cheeks were bright red, and he seemed nervous. his legs were crossed underneath him with his hands tucked in the middle. you felt ashamed in a way. but why were all your thoughts negative? you had to be positive, that’s something that your mom had been drilling into your head since you started high school.

“y/n.” his voice was calm, quiet, soothing.

you looked at him, unsure of what he was going to say.

he smiled, “spiderman.”

you poorly suppressed a laugh, a whine leaving your throat. you covered your face with your hands. jungkook wondered whether you were crying or laughing, or maybe both, but it was funny to him. “hey! why are you acting like this?”

he reached for your hands and pulled them from your face. your face was as red as his was, but you still looked cute in his eyes. you were beyond flustered.

jungkook laughed before leaning forward and kissing your lips again. things were definitely different. and things were working out much better than you were thinking. you were relieved.

-

after finally confessing your feelings for each other, nothing much changed between you two, other than now a lot of encounters had more physical affection.

jungkook seemed a lot happier after you and him started dating. your friends, as well as some of jungkook’s friends, would come and report to you that he was often smiling to himself, or laughing… basically he looked like he was in love, and they knew it was because of you.

to you, that was love. even when you weren’t around, he was still thinking about you.

but of course, with every relationship, there were a few downsides. you and jungkook had fought a few times before, before you and him started dating. but your first fight as a couple was different.

-

there was a party going on at a friend’s house. you wanted to go, as you weren’t really one to go out and hang out with people, especially at a party. you knew there was going to be some trouble involved, like underage drinking, as well as other “things”. you told yourself the moment you felt uncomfortable, you would leave.

you invited jungkook, since you were slightly scared of not going without him. you knew he would watch over you and keep you safe if need be. although, when you asked jungkook if he wanted to go, he seemed a little anxious.

“i don’t know,” he had said. “i don’t really think it’s right to go.”

you knew where he was coming from, but your mind was set. you wanted to go. “please, jungkook. i don’t want to go without you.”

“i don’t feel comfortable going to this party. we could get into a ton of trouble. if something happens, it could affect us for life.” you knew what he was talking about, but you were certain that none of those things wouldn’t happen, at least not to you, especially if jungkook were there. but jungkook was adamant about not going.

“fine. i’ll go with kensey or something.” you said, a little annoyed.

jungkook sighed, watching as you stood up from the table and walked away. he didn’t want to end the conversation like that, it wasn’t his intention.

hours later, you were arriving at the party with kensey. she was ecstatic that you asked if you could tag along, expecting you to be with jungkook. you told her everything, and she too understood where he was coming from, but kensey told you that it was good that you wanted to get out and try something new.

so, you and her hung out with some friends and partied like high school students did on a friday night. only there came one particular activity that you were practically pressured to participate in. it was a drinking game, and you didn’t want to drink as it was illegal, but many insisted that it would be okay and that it wouldn’t get too far.

in summary, you got drunk. and drunk you were yelling at yourself for drinking, talking about getting in trouble with your parents. your friends laughed about it, until kensey wondered if that was your cue to leave.

while kensey was dragging you out of the house, telling you to lean on her, you had called jungkook. “jungkook.” you slurred. “why aren’t at the party?”

he sounded disappointed, but you didn’t pay any attention. “y/n, why do you sound like that? don’t tell me…”

you pouted. “please don’t be mad at me.”

kensey glanced at you, before taking your phone. “hi, this is kensey. i’m taking her home, don’t worry about her.”

you don’t remember much about what she said after that because you were suddenly thirsty and tired, all at the same time. luckily for kensey, you weren’t too much to handle. you still tried your best to understand what was going on and where you were going.

by the time you and kensey reached your house, jungkook was standing by the front door. “i can take her.” he said.

jungkook bid a goodbye to kensey and helped you inside, quietly as to not wake up your parents. he was thankful that you stayed quiet until he brought you into your bedroom. “jungkook,” you spoke, “when you did you get here?”

he was still disappointed in you, “just now. kensey brought you home.”

you sighed, sitting up to look at him. “why are you standing all the way over there?” you pouted.

jungkook didn’t reply for a while. his jaw clenched and unclenched as he wondered what he should say, how he should react… “i’m mad at you.” he finally said.

you scoffed and rolled your eyes. “why?”

“why? you got drunk, y/n.” he was close to yelling, but quickly changed his tone to a whisper. he was worried about your parents waking up.

“i didn’t mean too! it was an accident.”

“how do you accidentally get drunk?”

you shrugged, cheeks going red. “i don’t know. my friends said everything would be fine. they said it wouldn’t hurt.”

your boyfriend sighed tiredly, feeling exhausted. he would have been fast asleep, seeing as it was after midnight, but he was worried about you, and waiting for a text that said that you got home safely. you calling him nearly scared him, until he heard your drunken voice.

“y/n, you can’t let friend pressure you into doing those things.”

“i knew what i was doing, jungkook. you’re not my parent. i don’t need you to constantly be by my side, watching over me like a hawk. i was completely safe and okay.” you spoke harshly.

jungkook was hurt by that statement. he pursed his lips, averting his gaze to the rug on your floor. with a slight nod of his head, he said, “alright then. good night.” and turned to leave.

your eyes widened. you immediately regretted saying those things. you didn’t mean them. you had hurt jungkook’s feelings, and now you were worried about him leaving. without any further hesitation, you stumbled off of your bed, nearly falling, and grabbed his hand. jungkook was surprised by how fast you had moved, especially in your state. he turned as he released your doorknob.

you looked up at him, eyes full of regret. “i’m sorry.”

jungkook relaxed and wrapped his arms around you. he rested his chin on top of your head, even placing a little kiss on it. “it’s okay.” he sighed. “i just can’t not think of all the things that could go wrong at parties. someone could have hurt you, taken advantage of you, you could do something you’ll regret,” there was a long, heavy pause. “someone hotter than me could have stolen your heart.”

you laughed, it was a small, still sad laugh, but it lightened the mood. “there is no such person that is hotter than you.”

he laughed too, holding you closer. after sharing a silent, intimate moment, jungkook suddenly pulled away. “now go shower. you stink.”

“hey!”

-

who would’ve thought that you and jungkook would last so long, to have such a strong bond that enabled you and jungkook to stay together.

now, many years later, here you were. your life felt complete. you felt satisfied. you have a job, you have a house, you have a husband, and you have a child.

“mamma, mamma.” your daughter called.

she jumped onto the bed, climbing between you and jungkook. jungkook was still asleep, whilst you woke up as soon as your daughter opened the bedroom door. you sighed into the pillow. “my love, what’s got you so energetic in the morning?”

she laughed. “i’m hungry.”

you sighed again. “you are just like your father.”

“what about me?” jungkook asked, his voice deep and laced with sleep still.

“she got her appetite from you.”

“that’s a compliment.”

you rolled your eyes and sat up. your daughter wrapped her arms around you, climbing into your lap, before poking jungkook’s back. “daddy, get up.”

he flipped over finally. despite having bedhead that covered a part of his eye, and a lopsided, tired smile, he still looked attractive. he reached out, poking the little girl in her stomach. she wiggled around in your arms, her dark hair becoming even messier than before. her laugh was music to your ears. it was amazing how much she looked like jungkook.

“alright, i guess i’ll start breakfast.” you said, removing your daughter from your lap.

she immediately climbed into jungkook’s arm, laughing as he tickled her some more. you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. you watched them with a fond, loving look in your eye.

sure you had dreams of what your family was going to look like, but you never could feel what having a family would be like. it was until you started one with the man of your life that you felt special, like your family was special. and that was the beauty of it.

love didn’t feel anything like how you felt now in this moment.

you didn’t feel love until you were happy with yourself, until you were successful, until you met the love of your life, your soulmate, until you brought a bundle of joy into the world.

that was love.

suddenly, you were brought out of your head, your thoughts interrupted. you saw jungkook looking at you. he was standing up, bending over slightly to look at you. your daughter was no where to be found.

“huh?”

he grinned and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “i asked if you wanted me to cook breakfast.”

you shook your head, hurrying out of bed. “i don’t trust you in my kitchen.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

you turned and looked at him, a teasing smile forming on your face. “run bts! 2017.” then you made a dramatic pause. “episode twenty.”

jungkook’s face reddened, recalling the moment when he showed what he had attempted to make. the food was stuck to the plate. in fact, he was able to flip the plate upside down, and the food remained still. it was a funny moment, to say the least.

[livayl]

Tusks and Training

Aka- the promised bad-ass-Orc-warrior-woman-sneeze fic. xD You might know Azra from her previous story: https://livayl.tumblr.com/post/189575537427/tusks-and-comfort But you don´t need to read or know anything else to have fun with this one. :)

It starts out with a (hopefully gripping) fight that melts into an unexpectedly close combat. Which gets even more intimate when Arza feels irritated by the dust she´s covered in. No injuries or real harm done to anybody but a mention of blood. Also they´re a little rough because Orcs. Please only re-blog to other sneeze kink blogs, thank you! <3

The dry air smelled of  fights, dust and sweat. Heavily underlined with the ever present scent of slick weapon oil and this distinct metallic odor of thoroughly forged weapons one could almost taste. All distilled under the cruel, burning blaze of midday sun which honed the orcish warriors even further. It was a blood boiling, temper rousing blend and Azra loved every single nuance of it. Reddish clouds of powder wafted through the flickering summer air. Stirred from the auburn colored sand that was only a fleeting carpet to the bone breaking floor of the vast arena. Plumes of dust wafted upwards by fluent motions and blistering winds. They richly stuck to every inch of exposed, sweaty skin and coated ones lungs with every inhale.                                                                     Though slightly rusty in shade by nature it´s color had deepened richly with spilled blood and broken dreams over the years. Decades that had added a lingering, potent iron perfume deeply associated with battle, triumph and painful disappointment.

Azra fluently dodged a sharp, vicious swing of her opponents ax and met it with her own only a heartbeat later. The ringing clash of steel split the air as both Orcs forcefully leaned into the motion before parting to resume their hazardous dance once more. Despite her supreme height and muscle mass Azra was known to be swift and deadly on her feet. But so was her adversary.   The two orcish soldiers stalked each other with predatory agility, clashing and parting in a rhythm so refined it was as beautiful as it could be deathly.   As a sudden gust of parching wind swept up a new billow of concealing, sense numbing sand Azra took her chance to dive beneath an already low aimed blow. She managed to quickly kick her opponents legs aside with enough force to make the massive Orc stagger and than roughly tackled him towards the floor. She held him down with her whole body as her own ax came to rest right at his throat: The sharp, slightly curved blade did cut in just enough to draw a fine cut. A slowly withering stream of crimson trickled down his grayish, strongly muscled neck and spilled over the mirroring edge. Red beads glistered on the dangerously grounded weapon that had come to a steady rest despite Azras panting breath.

The attack had happened swift and with apparent ease but the female warriors body language spoke of an ongoing stress that had now lasted for several hard hours. Her muscle cords were clearly visible and strained under a gleaming layer of sweat.                                                                                                                     More than a few droplets were running over the rugged, scarred and firm landscape that was her body. They sprinkled the sand and left countless round, fast vanishing dots that accompanied the fewer blossoming red ones. Her luscious mass of hair had come loose and now cascaded down- enveloping both fighters in it´s dark shroud.   "You give up?" She asked. Her voice as well as her expression stayed eerily emotionless and blank. Steady and adamant as her grip.   Still tightly trapped in her oppressive grasp the other Orc could feel her weight as well as every shallow gasp for air stroking his heated skin. Scattered, salty beads of sweat that had first trickled over her body now dabbled his own. Her rival swallowed forcefully against the blade. A motion that made his adam´s apple bounce and forced the narrow cut open a bit more. The gash felt seething hot in contrast to the cool ax.

Just about to yield he stopped as he noticed a subtle change in Azras facial features. He was trapped underneath the other warrior with her face hovering right above his own and had a perfect view: Her nostrils, which had formerly merely pulsated in rhythm with her steadying breath, now started to crinkle open a lot further. They widened and flared backwards irritatingly- exposing her septum and it´s many glittering adornments.  The layered, fine argent rings shook slightly as her nose crinkled with a wet sniff. He could see the swollen and damp inner membranes of each nostril with every opening motion. Azras thick brows had drawn together deeply. A movement akin to frustration or anger that in truth must have been an answer to a fierce, unpleasant stimulation. He watched as her former piercing gaze slowly lost it´s edge while her black lashes started to flutter erratically. Against her will Azras mouth trembled slightly. Her upper lip curled back in a snarl that exposed a sharp row of fangs in addition to the already present tusks. That unusual display left the fierce warrior open and more vulnerable than the other had ever been privileged to witness. Now her breath started to quaver and deepen in an irregular pattern. Gasping deeply again for another reason than exhaustion. Stray wisps of hair danced around her chiseled and now grimaced face with each increasingly helpless hitch. He felt each breath stroking and tickling his skin as her leather clad chest began to rise and fall with irregular rhythm as well. Ready to be overcome by an urge entirely unfit for a fight. In truth the whole build up had probably happened very fast. Yet to him every subtle and then obviously growing sign of irritation had been a precious first and thus seemingly extended and stretched time.

Both Orcs startled out of their shared stupor at the final, deep and voiced gasp that crested in a sudden and rushed sneeze: "hhHH- HUHR-EIZSSSCH-ue!" Azra had tried to angle her head to the side but with their close contact it was impossible to spare him a rather different kind of baptism. He felt the fine mist coating his shoulder, neck and left cheek as well as the newly mounting urge to sneeze that made her body go rigid with anticipation. The defeated warrior watched as Azras head titled back and her neck strained with another enormous inhale. He managed to get a last glimpse into teary red eyes before they tightly closed. The sneeze trembled at the cusps of release a moment longer, trapped her face in a longing grimace. Then it caused her head to snap aside in a motion similar to a whiplash with a harsh sounding, almost growled sound: "HUHR-ERRSSCH-hah!" Again accompanied by a fine yet clearly visible cloud of spray and a full bodied shudder. Her hand had held his shoulder in an adamant grip before and now clenched deeply into him with barely suppressed force. He felt her claws pierce his flesh.  

These small discomforts aside- the conquered warrior could not remember a recent time where he had been equally thankful for years of hard training and discipline. Despite being almost completely distracted and undone by that sudden tickle: Azras weapon, still deadly nestled against his throat, hadn't even flinched while the rest of her body shook. It still pressed on firm as she recovered with some much needed sniffs. Then he felt the sharp edged pressure lift at once. "Ugh.... Fuck. I´m sorry." She mumbled and fluently moved back to first melt into a crouch and then rub at her still deeply blushed, slightly runny nose. He could see Azras many piercings move and wiggle with the massaging motion that was accompanied by clearly audible sounds of wetness. "Gesundheit. I assume the "sorry" is for nearly cutting open my throat?" He grumbled while sitting up- much less graceful but not really angry. Undeniably achy? Maybe. "No. For sneezing on your face." Azra replied. Fully standing, almost towering above him now. He could see her squint and twitch with leftover irritation as she extended a calloused hand to help him up. His likewise rough, sweat slick skin met hers as she lifted him to an upright position as well. Again, the intimate and close contact lingered for longer than needed.

"Those are some strange priorities you've got there." He countered with a wry grin that exposed his own impressive set of teeth and painted friendly wrinkles around is dark blue eyes. "Nooh- hhh- not really. Beheading is a common thing in fights and should be expected. Sneezing- iihhh-" She broke off and slightly turned to one side. He could see her profile beginning to contort with a beginning sneeze. Felt her shoulder brush against his own as her breath and grip on his hand tightened. And saw the annoyance as it left her with unfulfilled duty. "... Sneezing isn't." Azra finished lamely, voice thick and speech dulled with congestion. She now used both hands to rub over her face and audibly swollen nose. And somehow managed to look cute and absolutely miserable at the same time. "Are you unwell?" He asked, a tad bit worried now. The male Orc had not noticed any lapses or signs of weakness in their prolonged fight but knowing the other that did not mean much. "Nu-huuh-...." Her breath hitched behind protectively raised hands and teased her palms with stuttering flutters."No... Ugh... Just itchy... Hhh-hold on-" Azra then explained before turning away from him completely. He watched as her shoulders first tensed than rose and fell with another series of fruitless hitches that ended in a deeply vibrating, angry growl. It was strangely exciting and endearing to witness her in such an uncommonly soft, control-less state.

Both had now completely forgotten about their fierce training and weapons bedded to rest in the grinding sand. Utterly distracted albeit for slightly different reasons. He gently stroked sweat damp waves of midnight colored hair aside and kissed the soft parts of her shaved nape. "Let´s go and wash that grime off." His lips mumbled against her skin- words more hummed than spoken. It made her shiver with pleasure as tingling goosebumps blossomed all over her back. She felt his fangs and protruding tusks lightly scratch her and would have enjoyed the soft tease if not for the much more demanding one buzzing inside her sinuses. Azras mouth turned into a feral snarl with both rising need and kindled annoyance. "Fuuh--fucking shit!" She cussed as the growing prickle spread once more and forced tears into her eyes. It lingered for a few heartbeats, right on the verge of tripping from "almost" to "finally enough" only to draw back again- displaced by the surprisingly smooth lips against her neck. "Hold on!" Azra almost snapped, more sincerely and completely in command this time. "Sorry- I can´t focus on both. Wa-hhheh-haaiit a moment." She then added, speech already discordant but not unkind sounding. Arza halfway turned around and felt almost disappointed at the retreat of fondling and advance of... That cursed...Feeling...Right there.... Just a bit more... He watched as her body shook in silent, gasping struggle and felt something not unlike curiosity. Even anticipation as she used an outstretched claw and hooked it in one of her septum rings. And definitely shock while witnessing her yanking said jewelry down almost brutally. The harsh trigger caused an exploding stimulation, a mixture of exquisite tease and stinging pain. Azras eyes squeezed shut under desperately knitted brows right after while her mouth and nose opened for a deep inhale. She felt a building pressure rising through her lungs, straining her chest. Finally enough to fuel the much needed, throat scraping sneezes: "Huuuhr-RRRSSCHooh!- HAH-ERSSSCHH-ue!- HUH-EIZSSCHhah!" The finally released force had bent her almost in half while making her stumble slightly. Clearly audible throughout the whole arena, the rushed sneezes left both eyes and nose damp and her head finally cleared. Albeit more than a bit dizzy. She absent minded rubbed the space between her breast where a not uncomfortable pang still echoed the previous outbursts.  

"Huh.... Finally..." Azras almost moaned relieve was accompanied by a good humored chuckle and rewarded with a hard, passionate kiss. Now she would have much more attention left to revel in her victory as well as in the surely following and very eagerly presented prize.