#Mr. Hide and go Sneeze over here

[risestarkiss]

Rise Ramblings #521

...So, we’re all just going to pretend Donnie wasn’t hiding behind the recliner while his grandmother slept? Ok.

[parkerpeter24]

Omg can I request mcu! Peter Parker going on a date with reader but he’s actually getting sick and trying to hide it cause he’s been super busy and just wants to spend time with reader?

hi. it’s almost december 🥹 i wanna do winter blurbs 3.0

pairing ➳ peter parker x reader

masterlist

it was not a fun evening to be out on the streets but you had your muffler wrapped around your neck and ready to meet your ‘friend’ peter– if you can even call him that. he had been so busy working and spider-manning it up for the last month that he barely got any chance to contact you other than a few texts here and there.

you felt so happy when you finally saw a text that you had wanted to for weeks. ‘dinner? mick’s @ 7?’

you smiled, looking at the text and instantly replied with a thumbs up emoji.

as you walked through the streets, you looked up for any sign in case you caught him swinging by in his spandex suit. but there was no sign of him. once once you were inside and sitting in a booth, looking out the window at the slow traffic outside, you saw him and his worn trench coat. he rushed through the doors, instantly spotting you and sitting in front of you.

you gave him a smile, watching him take off his brown coat, noticing the red of his cheeks.

“good evening, mr busy.” he gave you a smile too, keeping both his arms on the table.

“good evening.” he smiled, “did you order already?”

“just got here.” you shrugged, not really knowing what you both were here for as peter suddenly looked at the light bulb hanging right over the counter across from the two of you. then he sneezed, rubbing his nose.

“sorry. allergies.”

you raised a brow, “it looks like-”

“it’s nothing.” he waved his hand around in dismissal, “so uhm. let’s order?”

“...sure.” you said, trying to enjoy the time you had with him, ignoring his unusual behaviour. peter was unusual at times so you didn’t mind much– the only thing you noticed was that he kept staring at the light bulb hanging from the ceiling of his favourite diner.

“your eyes are popping out.” you pointed out, taking an onion ring from the small basket that was over at his side of the table. peter didn’t seem to mind but gave you a question look.

“huh?”

“it’s like... you were here to spend time with that light bulb, not me.” you pointed to the said source of light, “what’s up with you?”

“nothing-”

“if you’re not really free, we can do this-”

“no, no no no no! we can do this now. i want this date with you.” peter cleared his throat and coughed a little, “everything is right.”

you smiled when he called it a ‘date’ and pointed it out, “date, huh?”

“oh, did i not clear that up?” he raised his eyebrows in genuine question.

“oh, no, no. your text was very informative, actually.” you chuckled teasingly, making him rub the back of his neck.

“sorry, i-” he coughed again and this time you became really suspicious with the way he was trying to hold back, stifling his cough with a fist over his mouth.

“peter... let me...” you leaned forward, the back of your hand extended towards him but before it could touch his forehead, he moved back. you gave him a look and peter sighed.

“look, i’m completely-”

you interjected, “not okay.”

“fine.” the two of you said at the same time.

“i call bull.” you crossed your arms, sitting back at the leather seat, “your cheeks are flushed. you keep coughing and-” you found the boy’s eyes again fixed to the light bulb, “there’s definitely something going on with that light bulb!”

peter sighed, “okay, i’m sick. but i didn’t wanna ruin our date.” finally giving in as he sneezed again, “because of one tiny mishap.”

“but you need rest.” you reached out your hand to grasp his cold one, “could’ve at least ordered a soup.”

“i didn’t want you to become suspicious...” peter coughed again as his eyes went to the light bulb.

“peter-” you huffed, “i swear to god if you don’t tell me what’s up with that thing, i’m asking the owner to take it out.”

“wait, please don’t-” peter felt his cheeks heat up even more, his obvious fever having nothing to do with it this time, “i heard that looking at a source of light stops you from sneezing but-” he sneezed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “doesn’t work for me...”

you blinked, “wait a minute, are you talking about that dr. mike video?” he nodded, making you chuckle, “silly, it was the opposite. if you look at it, you sneeze.”

“oh.” was all peter could say, making you laugh at his expression, making his cheeks go redder.

you gently squeezed his hand, “come on. let’s get you some soup.”

[waterfallofspace]

45 and 50, anything with F/rancis Fitzgerald. That man is so ridiculous. Also I'm on mobile, otherwise I would put these all in a single ask- so sorry for the multiple messages 😅😅 these are just so fun

No need for apologies, I'm having the best time filling these!! And yet again, thank you for the ask!!! I'm really enjoying the variety of characters I wouldn't normally write for!! It's such a fun challenge to me, and hopefully the results are adequate~~ (also, I adored your spellings for him in that ADORABLE comic you made, ~link here for anyone who wants to go check out Poni's incredible talent~ so I hope you don't mind that I based my own spelling off them~~) 1.5k words, prompts 45 and 50, story under the cut!! 45. “Your nose is literally twitching.” 50. “You sneezed ten times today.” “Thanks for counting.”

~~~~~~~

From the moment Louisa got to the office, she could tell something was wrong with her boss. His normally chipper personality seemed to be a performance this morning, complete with exaggerated smiles and strained tones. Despite this, it wasn’t her place to speak up. At least… she didn’t think it was.

But as the next ten minutes seem to take hours to pass, filled with suppressed coughing and thinly veiled sniffling from Francis, eventually she can’t take it anymore. As he finishes up his latest cluster of sneezes, she finds herself rising to her feet, and calling out.

“You sneezed ten times today, sir…”

Francis turns to her, tissues still pressed to his nose, sniffling weakly into them before attempting ‘and failing-’ to subtly clear his throat. 

“Thank you for counting.” 

A flash of heat makes itself at home in her cheeks as she feels her gaze start slipping back down to her papers. ‘No! Come on, Louisa, Mr. Fitzgerald needs you to speak up. He’s obviously not feeling well, but he cares about the mission, and about us, enough to try to work through it. I need to show him it’s okay to be sick!’

“I’ve been here for 20 minutes, sir.” 

“I noticed that, yes. Punctual as usual, Miss Louisa!” 

“M- Mr. Fitzgerald, I… I don’t think you’re understand-”

“hehHhh-! ‘Scuse me, do continue.”

“Oh right, yes, I was just saying I don’t think you’re quite understanding what I’m…”

She trails off as his face contorts once more, nose scrunching up as he seems to attempt to keep his eyes focused on her, despite the obvious tickle working its way through his sinuses. ‘Always so caring of my feelings. I’ll just wait for a minute, give him a chance to-’ 

“hH’YEHMMffshhhh’iee-! heHh-! yyiiffshhh’ieew-! heh’yitSHHH’iie-!”

“Blessings, sir. Three times over.”

“Thank you, Miss Louisa. Please excuse me, you were saying something?” 

Louisa weighs her options, watching Francis rub a finger roughly against the side of his nose. It becomes quite apparent that it’s not squashing the tickle, in fact, given the rapidly pinkening quality of said appendage, she’d wager it’s making it worse. ‘I could straight out say that I know he’s sick… but… he’s gotta know that I can tell… he’s not exactly great at hiding it… so maybe it’s not my place…’

“N- nothing. I was just wondering if uh… if you needed a new plan drawn up…?” 

“How wonderful of you to offer! I believe I am quite content with the ones you’ve already presen… presented- huhh’yiMMff’shhiee-!”

“Bless you, Mr. Fitzgerald.”

“Thank you again.”

Gesturing at her papers, Louisa waits for a nod from Francis before seating herself once more, eyes never leaving her boss’s quivering nose. ‘He’s not gonna be able to keep this up for long. The sneezes sound exhausting… I wonder if he has a headache… or a sore throat… maybe I should make him some tea…?’ 

“hEh’eeiiyyfff’hieew-! Excuse me.”  

“Blessings.”

“Thank you, Miss Louisa.” 

Starting to stand, Louisa watches as Francis ducks into himself with a strangled cough that is still clearly audible in the silent room. As it dies down he lifts a tissue to lightly dab at the wetness that had gathered in his eyes. Louisa feels a pain shoot through her chest, wishing more than anything she could just wrap him up in a blanket and send him home.

Instead, she settles on brewing a cup of tea, throwing blessings over her shoulder as Francis succumbs to another fit. ‘Maybe if I bless each one he’ll get the hint that I know something’s wrong…? It’s worth a shot, pointing out the number earlier didn’t work and… just speaking up… I’m not sure I could do that…’ 

“Eiiiyyiifffff’ieee-!” 

“Bless you.”

“heH’YYIFFFSHHH’iiew-!” 

“Blessings.” 

“aiyyMMFFFsshh’iiee-!”

“Bless you, sir.” 

“Th- thann… thankyou- yiTTSHHHffffieew-!”

“Blessings, again.” 

With a heady sniff, Francis manages to stall off the fit long enough to release a wet blow into the tissues, Louisa wincing at the way it seemed to have achieved nothing. Another chesty cough spills out, Francis turning away from her to try and muffle it into his arm. 

“Are you alright..?”

“P- perfectly fine- just something- stuck in my throat.” 

He manages to get out between the spasms, finally giving up with an eye roll as he allows the full harshness to slip out. Louisa can’t help but gasp at the sound, a faint rattling starting up as he inhales, a whistle note on the exhale. She finds herself behind his chair before she has time to process, gently rubbing his back.

“Exc- excuse me…”

Finally the cough eases, and Louisa notices just a second too late that her hand continued rubbing. Pulling away as a flush spreads to her ears, she mumbles an apology, one that Francis easily waves off.

“You have nothing to apologize for, you were simply assisting. I appreciate it. I appreciate you, Miss Louisa.” 

“Th- thank you, sir. That means… a lot…” 

A warm smile greets her, no performance in this one, just sincerity. She feels something swell deep inside her, a feeling she could only describe as home. It’s quickly replaced by something tinged with more concern though, as the smile is replaced by an open mouth, Francis’s eyes starting to flutter shut.

“hAHhh..-! Guhh.. ‘Scuse me, sorry, I thought I wa- oh wait… I am… s- sorry I have… I’m going to start… sn- sneezing again… heHhH-!” 

“I know, Mr. Fitzgerald.”

“hh’YYYITshhhiee-!”

“Blessings again, s-”

“eiiyyttfffshhh’iuh-yyiishhhmmmffff’ii-!” 

“Bless you twice over. Are you… finished..?” 

Francis meets her eyes, a far off look still haunting his own. Louisa finds herself drawn to it, unable to look away. Something curious inside her wants to dive into the feeling, get swept away in his tide. She’s drawn back into reality as his eyes crush shut, tissues pressed back to his nose as the remainder of the fit makes itself known. 

“yiieeddzshhhiiee-!” 

“Blessi-” 

“heH’YIESHHdjjuu-!”

“ings- and again. Are you quite alright?” 

Another deep blow into the tissues leaves Francis blushing, Louisa averting her eyes at the sight. ‘I want him to feel better, not to embarrass him… but… if that’s what it takes…’ Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the kettle, and she quickly busies herself with preparing the tea. Dropping an extra squeeze of lemon into it, she silently glides over, placing the cup of tea pointedly on his desk, and standing in front of his chair. 

“M- Miss Louisa..? Is there s-heHhh-! something I can help you with?” 

“Yes, actually, there is.”

Louisa doesn’t miss the distress in his gaze, though it takes her a second to place why it’s there. She notices the way his hand keeps finding its way up to his nose, pinching at it and rubbing the sides. His eyes dart past her, onto the desk, and following his line of sight she soon understands why. ‘I’m standing between him and the tissues. He’s going to have to admit he’s sick to get me to move, this is my chance!’ 

“W- well..? heHh-! gahh…” 

“I know you’re sick, Mr. Francis. Y- you should just admit it, it’s not doing you any good to stay here working when you’re ill.” 

He gives her a measured look, something sparkling in his eyes that she can’t quite seem to put her finger on. ‘Pride..? But it… feels more… more genuine… maybe… care..?’ 

“I assure you, I’m fine.” 

“Your nose is literally twitching.” 

It seems all he needed was a reminder to break the will he’d been so desperately clinging to, a gasp breaking free from his chest before he could stop it. Louisa offers him a kind smile, a hint of guilt seeping into it at the frantic look on his face.

“Okay, alright, you caught me, now please move, I… Ihavetosneeze-!”

“As you request, sir.”

She steps to the side as Francis lunges for the tissues, barely managing to press a handful to his face before the cascade of sneezes push their way out, impatient and quite irritated at being denied for so long. 

“yiiFFDJZSHII-! eiiyyDJJZSsshh’uu-!”

“Blessings, twice over, sir.”

“AIYYEMMFF’iee-! hEhH-! hEPF-! Guhh… Lost it. Oh- wait… hEh-! yiffttshhiieew-! yittshhh-aiiyyshhh-heH’YITTSHH’iie-!"

"Ble-"

"yIIDJZZshhiie-! Oh heavens… heHh-! Still n- not done..? yiisshhh’iie-! yyittfffshhh-yittshhh-aiiyyshhh’iuh-!” 

“Oh my- blessings again sir, I… lost count…”

Francis chuckles weakly through the tissues, congestion seeping through his voice as he manages a weak- 

“So did I, think nothing of it.”

-in response, before ducking into the pile of tissues to blow again. This time it sounds more productive, and Louisa lifts the mug from the desk, presenting it to him as he lets out a stuffy sigh, tossing the tissues into the garbage.

“Now… may I take over with business matters while you go lay down, at least for awhile..?”

“There’s no need, I’ve finished most of my work for the day. Thanks to your excellent plan, there’s simply no extra work needing to get done. A nap sounds wonderful, I believe I’ll do that. Thank you again, Miss Louisa. You’re truly too kind to me.”  “It- it’s nothing sir… I know you’d do the same for me.”

A smile cracks across Francis’s face, Louisa feeling a matching one bloom on her own.

“Yes, I would.”

[deedee-the-first]

Sick and in love

After her usual patrol with Chatnoir, Ladybug was swinging across the roofs of Paris when she reached her balcony, she detransformed, tired, she hit her ankle hard and fell to the floor. She tried to stand back up but couldn't she resolved to just sit on the floor.

. "Atchoo", Marinette sneezed.

After Marinette fed Tikki,.

"Marinette are you ok", Tikki asked. "yeah just a little atchhoo cold"."Marinette its freezing out here let go in". Tikki asked, trying to find warmth.

"I would if I could. I can't feel my ankle. It hurts really bad". "You have to get into bed or try and limp to your bed while I get your pyjamas".

After she had changed into cute bunny pyjamas, she climbed into bed. "Goodnight, Tikki, what would I do without you?", Marinette said.

Tikki cooed and said " Goodnight Marinette". "Atchoo".Marinette sneezed again. And fell asleep.

The next morning, Marinette couldn't get out of bed,. "Mommy" she yelled. She only called her mother 'mommy' when she was sick. Sabine was surprised, ran upstairs to check on Marinette.

"Marinette you look awful. Let me check your temperature" She rushed for the thermometer and ran back. She checked her temperature

"oh my God you have a high fever", Sabine said. "Mom *atchoo* don't even think about it *sniffs*you've planned this trip for months and*atchoo* it is not a pleasure trip. You have to get that award because you deserve it*atchoo* and I would be the worst daughter *atchoo* to keep you here" Marinette was stopped as her mother gave her a box of tissues.

"we will go on this trip but we will call you every hour to check up on you and I will call Mr. Damocles and tell him you are not going to school today and I'll make soup for you" Sabine answered.

Meanwhile, at school, Mr. Damocles enters Marinette's class. Everyone says "Good morning Mr. Damocles" Alya whispers to Nino, "Marinette's gonna be big trouble " "I know that dudette is super late", Niño answers. Mr. Damocles says,

"Good morning class, Unfortunately Marinette is sick and cannot come to school "

Adrien's thoughts " What? Why? When? I have to go to pay her a visit after class. That is"

That news made everyone sad.

Everyone was just waiting for class to be over so they could each send her messages.

Back at Marinette's she was really sick. She had slept all morning, but she wasn't feeling any better. By this time, her mom and dad had already gone on their trip and called 3 times before.

" Tikki my head hurts, my nose is running, I keep sneezing *atchoo*, and I'm hotter than the sun. What should I do?", Marinette said

"Well you go to those things called doctors", Tikki said.

"Out of the question, Tikki and they are people, not things", Marinette said with a little fear in her eyes.

" I know you better than anyone. The only thing you are afraid of is talking to Adrien, so why do you have fear in your eyes"?

"First I was nervous and not afraid and second, my heart belongs to my boyfriend now, so I'm no longer nervous when talking to him and third, I'm not afraid of anything", she said with a face that was like I'm not hiding anything, stop trying to find out.

"I want an explanation. Why don't you want to go to the doctors"? Tikki asked, disappointed that Marinette had hidden something from her

" firstofallIcantwalkandsecondifIgohemightsayIneedashotandI'mafraidofshots- so good to get that off my chest"

" Marinette, you know when you talk like that i can't understand you. Please say that again", Tikki said.

" first of all, I can't walk and second, if I go, he might say I need a shot and I'm afraid of shots". Please don't laugh", Marinette repeated.

" What are shots?" Tikki asked. " They are needles that contain medicine that they put in a sick person's body", Marinette said, "Why would they do that, isn't that painful? I would be scared if I were you, don't worry, I won't force you to go".

Back at school, every 2 seconds, Adrien checked his watch. He wished school would finish now and wondered how the princess was. The bell rung and he was about to fly out the door when Alya said,

" Everyone Marinette called and said she's contagious, so I thought that we should send her video messages ok"

Immediately after everyone had sent the messages, Adrien went home.

"Didn't you hear that she's contagious", Plagg said. "I don't care, I need to see my princess" Adrien. "Claws out" He ran over the roof tops until he reached Marinette's balcony. He ran through her window and saw her in her bed. He transformed.

" What happened to you? I heard you were sick. Why don't you ever take care of your self". Adrien said

"You and I both know *atchoo* I take care of myself. Kitty is just a *atchoo* little cold", Marinette replied,

" If it is just a little cold, why is your face so red? It is obvious that you have a fever. If it is the flu, I have to take you to the hospital".

"My doctor came over*atchooooo* already I'm ok Adrien really" she lied. She didn't want to tell him she didn't want a shot.

"You know very well that I can tell when you are lying to get up and go have a bath. You are coming to the hospital with me whether you like or not. Now stop being lazy", Adrien demanded.

Marinette thought 'why does he have to know me so well'. " *atchoo* I'm contagious and it is better you leave, I don't want you getting sick *atchoo*" Marinette said.

"Enough of that nonsense. I'm not leaving, get ready. I'm taking you to the hospital, " Adrien said, not having it anymore.

"Well I injured my ankle after a patrol last night", Mari replied

" let me see gosh it is really bad". It is blue. Your ankle might be broken Mari. We have to get you to the hospital". Adrien said.

He goes in and out of the bathroom, setting it up for her to bathe comfortably.

" I'll carry you to the bathroom. There is a chair in there and you can use that. Then I'll pick out your outfit". She just didn't want to go to the hospital. Now, going for two things. Could this day get any worse?

She pondered these facts, and she said " I done" he passed her a towel and a grey sweat pants with a white sleeveless shirt with a gray jacket. She wore it and she limped out of the bathroom.

Adrien rushed and carried her and looked at her disapprovingly, " Why didn't you call me to carry you out? I don't want you to stress your ankle while you hurt".

Adrien said he was not able to stay angry with his princess.

He braided her hair and took her to the hospital in a cab.

Marinette was completely against this idea. When they reach a hospital, "Please Adrien I don't want to be here. Don Don't make me please *atchooo*" Marinette whined.

" I'm sorry Princess but i cannot allow you to stay in pain", Adrien replied.

"I can handle the pain or Tikki can cure it. Please don't make me go in there", Mari said.

"Mari please, " Adrien persisted and carried her in.

In the waiting room after Adrien signed up.

She looked at Mari. She was really upset. Then, her name was called.

They went into the doctor's office. Immediately, she saw who it was. She was terrified, which was her childhood doctor.

"Ah Marinette, what's wrong with you don't look too good?", Dr. Elena. Scared to death, Marinette managed to say, "I'm sick*atchoo*".

Dr. Elena giggled and said, " I can see that you are still afraid of doctors".

Marinette thoughts *breathe in breathe out* she speaks a little bit less scared" No I'm not and Well I have a fever, I can't stop sneezing *atchoo*, my nose is stuffy and I 'm pretty sure I have the flu". Adrien said, "It wasn't that hard was it?" "shut it" she snapped, angry that he brought her there to start with. "Ok so according to your symptoms, you might have the flu, so I'll give you a check up and then if you do flu shots" Dr. Elena said.

"What" Marinette exclaimed, limping for the door, but was stopped by Adrien. She pushed past him and bolted for the door.

Adrien ran after, Mari suppressed the pain in her ankle, trying to get away as fast as she could, but Adrien was right behind her. She reached the parking lot and hid behind a car. She slowed her breathing with the adrenaline rush gone her ankle was throbbing, which hurt so much. Adrien passed by where she was hiding and his sharp ears heard her breathing.

He quietly made his way to her and held her still. Mari started thrashing around, begging, screaming, crying for him to let her go. Then he hugged her, and took her inside while cradling her. Once they were back in Dr. Elena's office.

"Mari what's wrong." He said he was really worried. Right then she felt the urge to puke. She looked at Dr. Elena, who pointed to the bathroom door. She limped in and after she had finished, and she said to tikki "what am I going to do? Adrien is going to make me take the shot. What should I do"?

Adrien was waiting for her outside. "Marinette are you okay in there? I'm coming in" Marinette said "no don't I'm coming out" she said to Tikki, wish me luck.

"Marinette your ladybug you can do anything".

" Ok I don't want to make a fool of myself".

She goes out and sees a worried look on Adrien's face when she said, "Its not about me having to take a shot or more. What hurts me is that I didn't want to come here, but you still made me. I knew this would happen. I just knew it". Adrien started to chuckle then he was now laughing hysterically.

Marinette was now furious, "what's funny fact, forget it. I'm gonna go get my shots", she said, turning away. He held her arm.

"Wait for all this because you were afraid of a shot, why didn't you tell me " he laughed again.

"What kind of boyfriend are you? Instead of comforting me, you laughing and making me go through my fear" she said, really frustrated, and caving in.

" You know I'm the best boyfriend ever because I would rather see you get a shot than suffer from the flu *atchoo* oh no it's like I'm catching the *atchoo* flu. " He said/sneezed. "Haha now I am not the only one getting a shot today", Marinette countered.

The finally settled down, in front of Dr. Elena. Dr. Elena asked them many questions. When she came to this question, she looked at Marinette

"Why were you limping? ". Chat decided to answer her " Well, Marinette told me she hit her ankle on her balcony earlier"

Dr. Elena let me take a look.

She was about to lift Marinette's ankle. She touched it and Marinette shrieked "Ow please don't" "But i have to take a look" Dr. Elena told her. Chat held her hand, she took a deep breathe and said, " Please be gentle".

Dr. Elena lifted Marinette's leg gently and said, "oh dear, it seems to be broken"

"It didn't look like that at her house. She *atchoo* probably stressed it when she ran off, Doc watcha*atchoo* gonna do about it", Chat said, trying to lighten the mood which obviously did not work.

Dr. Elena looked at the Adrien worriedly and said, " Can we speak outside" "Yes *atchoo* doc".

When they were outside, "So you *atchoo* say her ankle is broken*atchoo* and shifted", Adrien said.

"Yes so i have to rearrange it like shifting it to the proper position. It seems that you are catching the flu too". Dr. Elena said,.

"In that * atchhooo* case, you have to do it while she's not aware”, Adrien said

Dr. Elena said'', I have noticed that she is very uncomfortable here ''

*phone ring*

Alya :Hi Adrien

Adrien : alya I'm at the hospital right now

Alya :ok

Adrien :Actually I brought Marinette here. She was really sick".

Alya: Did you say Marinette because she hates going to the doctors? She must be scared to death I'm coming.

Adrien : Yh because it is only you that can handle her

Alya: Bye

"So while you were on the phone, I prepared Marinette for the procedure but she's still on edge"

Dr. Elena said, " you and Marinette are both going to receive flu shots when her friend gets here"

Alya arrived, and Mari thought I could still make a run for it.

Alya looked at her and said in a no-nonsense voice, " Don't even think about it. "

Adrien was frustrated, "Mari stop *atchoo* acting like a child and get ready for your *atchoo* shot".

"No you are going first'', Mari said, trying to stall.

"Ok fine princess*atchoo* if i get mine you promise *atchoo* you'll get yours" he said so calmly but on the inside he was panicking, but then he said in his mind "I'm doing this for my princess".

" I can't promise you anything", Marinette scoffed. He did as he was told and he got himself ready and sat down. He rolled up his sleeve.

Immediately, the needle impacted his skin, he whimpered, which made Marinette really scared and everyone could see that. She closed her eyes, too afraid to open them.

Adrien touched her hand and she opened her eyes with tears and said " I can't do this" she stood up forgetting about her ankle and fell into his arms. They gazed into each other's eyes passionately.

"Marinette you are stronger than you think", Adrien said, putting her back in the bed. Dr. Elena, tired of all this drama, said "Marinette I never knew you to be such a drama queen. Just because of this little shot, you're almost hyperventilating. Gosh kids" she said, holding up her syringe that was ready for her 15 minutes ago and is 2 times bigger than Chat.

Marinette, more terrified than before, Adrien said, "Why is it bigger than what I took"?

"Well yours was just a vaccine. Hers is a cure, please shift aside I have things to do", Dr. Elena said, fed up with this rubbish. "Marinette please just do what she says, "Alya said

He said, " Marinette, please take off your jacket", Adrien said, giving her a sympathetic look.

She took off her jacket and accepted her fate. Closing her eyes, she held Adrien's hand.

She felt sharp pain, as the needle entered her arm. She covered her hand with her mouth and, for fear of screaming, a tear ran down her which Adrien immediately wiped away.

"Not that bad was it? " Adrien asked Marinette when she was done with the shot. " What are you talking about? It was worse than I thought-" and she fell asleep.

" I loved my princess but she was really a pain in the neck today", Adrien said.

"So you finally gave her anesthetic, please go over and give her the flu shot and straighten her ankle. Today has been a long day", Adrien said, disappointed that this was the only way to.

"I never knew Marinette could be so dramatic, " Adrien said

"This time she got a shot in and even saw a doctor. She couldn't have handled it in a normal case. I think she's very brave even I stalled when I've got to take a shot and Marinette just stalled her shot from the afternoon to the evening", Alya said, defending her best friend.

The next morning, Marinette woke and saw Adrien beside her, she jokingly pushed him off her bed and sat up.

After an 'oh so hard' push, Adrien woke up with shock on his face. Marinette recalled the events of yesterday.

"Mari I can explain ok, Mari reason I can't just leave you in this condition", Adrien said, trying to pacify Mari.

Marinette looked down and saw her ankle in a cast "Spill what happened yesterday.

Adrien jumped, "Well instead of a flu shot, Dr. Elena gave you an anesthetic because she also needed to straighten out your ankle without you in pain or scream" he gave her an apologetic smile.

She stood up to check her ankle on the ground but was stopped by Adrien. "How am I going to get around if I can't even stand"? She said.

"Alya thought ahead and brought you this", Adrien said, holding bluebell crutches that matched her eyes.

"Thank you", Marinette said. "for everything”.

He leaned in, and Mari mimicked him until their lips met in the middle. Then Marinette giggled'

[sidhewrites]

Chapter 8! Kind of! Flailing in the general direction of a narrative and excessive use of brackets to move the action along!

Project Info

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

The second Josie sees Renfield, she cries out in relief and pulls him close to her chest, peppering his fat head with kisses. "Thank you, Kaz. [I was so worried]." Now that she's got her cat back, Josie can focus on other concerns. Her gaze drifts over to the circle of light where a valiant effort to get a modicum of work done after all the chaos.

"Josie...?" I warn, but there's not much heart behind it. After nearly losing Renfield, it's hard not to want to give her something nice. Maybe she could at least say hello. I look over my shoulder and sigh. "Be cool. Okay?"

"So cool. I'm very cool."

"I believe you." I don't believe her.

"Do you...?"

She pauses, looking down at Renfield in her arms. He's happy as can be, face buried in the crook of her elbow. I know Josie wants to take him to the vet to get looked at, and she'd be right to, but the risk of missing out on meeting the archivists. It's such a small thing, but I can still see it weighing on her.

I don't want to make her make a hard decision, not after tonight. "Listen, come by tomorrow. They're probably going to be pissed at me in the daylight and want to talk to Mr. Ngo about things. Might as well have you stop by too. Yeah?"

She hesitates before nodding, and despite her exhaustion, there's a distinct glimmer in her eye. "Sounds good."

"Let me know what the vet says?"

"Will do." Josie looks down at Renfield and sighs. "Thank you, Kaz."

"Sure thing. I'm glad we found him."

Josie heads off, and I turn back to the team, plastering my best customer service smile on my face, and get ready to grovel once more.

#

[Kaz checks in with josie in the mormning, renfield is fine and seems healthier than he was in his last visit which is wild. But he's behaving oddly, hiding under tables, and refusing to be pet. So she's gonna keep an eye on him and keep in touch with the vet.

She also talks with the haunted archivists, gets permission to use the video with the cat in it, etc. she gets a selfie with them and ts delightful.]

Josie looks like she barely slept, but the fear and tension is mostly gone from her shoulders.

"Good news, then?" I ask, and she makes a face. I try again: "Bad...news?"

"Weird news."

"Tell me."

Josie pulled out her phone in search of the after-visit summary. "The vet says he's in perfect health."

"Well, that's good, isn't it?"

"As in, perfect health. No bladder infections, no kitty arthritis. Nothing. Even his breathing seem to be doing better."

"Definitely weird news, then." Renfield was a smush - faced cat. He'd been examined back when Josie first took him in the day she found him in the trash, and the vet said he'd likely suffer some issues in his old age. Sure enough, he'd slowly started to huff and sneeze and wheeze a bit as the years went by, though it was a mix of issues that lead to him being less active and more determined to fall asleep in your lap and drool on your pant leg.

"So..."

"I don't know. I scheduled a follow up at the end of the week with his usual vet, and we'll see. But here, look. See? He's totally fine." She flipped the phone around to show me a video of Renfield noisily chowing down on his breakfast.

"Aww, look at him." I cooed. "A little scrungus man."

"Be nice," Josie whined, even as she moved on to the next video of him scratching at his cat tree.

"An old scrunkly bungus."

"No, he's a sweet baby!"

I fully intended to continue insulting her stinky baby boy but the front door swung open again. "Hang on just a second," I said to Josie, then leaned back in the chair to call out the office door, "I'll be with you in a second!"

A familiar voice answered, "No need."

Ah. The Archivists were back. I felt my whole body cringe, hoping against hope they hadn't reported last night's chaos to Mr. Ngo. A quick glance to Josie told me that she matched my dread with her own levels of excitement. "Be cool," I hissed.

"So cool." She nodded aggressively.

Neither of us were capable of being cool. I was fully prepared for another round of groveling and apologizing until Lourdes poked her head in the door with the biggest smile on her face.

"Morning!" She chirped, and waltzed in, followed by Mick and Maddie. I would have questioned their energy levels after last night were they not all sporting cups of coffee from a local cafe. I had similarly loaded up on caffeine before work and had a backup cup ready to go under the office's coffee machine.

"Morning...?"

"Sup." Josie crossed her arms and leaned against the desk, which would have been perfectly casually if she also wasn't visibly restraining herself from fangirling over both Archivists and their manager standing less than five feet away. She does not miss the dubious glance I shoot her way, but manages to say nothing.

"So the three of us were talking last night," Maddie begins, glancing down at notes on her phone.

"Look, I'm sorry. I swear that one wasn't planned. Josie's cat never runs like that, and he--"

"We'd like to use it in the video."

"What?"

Maddie gives me a look that seems to say keep up, we're talking business here! "It's great content. The team's in the middle of a successful [seance? what's the word] and in comes a cat. I think the audience would be disappointed if we don't do a little Q&A with him, too. You know, just as a little bonus."

I glanced to the side. Josie's practically steaming with the effort of keeping her calm. Frankly, I'm more than a little impressed. "I mean, you'd have to ask his owner, right?"

"Of course, yeah," Maddie says, and the team nods in agreement.

"No, I mean... the owner...?" I gesture to Josie.

She waves.

"Oh -- oh, hey, cool! Hi, I'm Maddie." She reached out to shake Josie's hand, and gestured to the other two. "I don't know if you know us...? This --"

"Mick and Lourdes, Haunted Archivists. I know you guys. Um -- that is, I've seen your show, and --"

I kick Josie lightly, and she clears her throat, getting a hold of herself.

"Yep, yeah. So cool. Um, yeah, that was my cat Renfield that you... want to use in the video, apparently?"

[They greet Josie and talk and of course she's excited.]

She talks about some of the local legends, and points them in the direction of the librarian

Tag list:

@adaughterofathena

@ambreeskyewriting

@carnelianflames

@feather-dancer

@halfbloodlycan

@nadunacreates

@serenanymph

@vigilantdesert

[munvermaniac]

Eddie always knows when Jason's getting sick, he's like a blood hound, Jason can't escape him ever.

Here's a example I have written you.

Eddie always knows when Jason's sick. Hell, with everything they go through on a daily basis slash come in contact with its a miracle there not sick all the time. It's all the questionable   slop from the cafeteria, the gym and the Hellfire room, sleepless nights when Eddie decides they need to go a adventure. Eddie's surprised it doesn't happen more often. But even so, when Jason does get sick, Eddie just knows on every level, it's like a sixth sense as his uncle would say.

First, he senses it. The signs are so tiny that only he can sniff it out, but to him they're clear as day. Jason wears down slowly gradually even, trying to do what he does best and that's ignoring the symptoms until he's undeniably sick. He starts to walk like a zombie, eats less, takes longer to do well everything including showering. If asked though, Jason would just punch the air calming he's in tip top shape. "Never better Ed," he'd say, but Eddie knows better.

Second, he hears it. His lover tries to hide the sniffles, the sneezes, the coughs and though they've both had years of hiding illness from parents, teachers, uncle's, Jason was never completely successful. But Jason never complains not even to Eddie, probably out of his deeply rooted sense that he needed to be Mr. Perfect all the time. He will probably never learn, as if it would be admitting devastating defeat and vulnerability instead of asking for help.

Lastly, Eddie sees it. When Jason finally comes to terms to getting a cold or the flu, he fishes out one of Eddie's ratty very loved hoodie from the Hellfire club out of Eddie's dresser and pulls it over his head. Eddie always returns secretly getting medicine to Jason face down on their bed, nose completely buried in that hoodie that drowns him and softly snoring to a pile of used tissues. Eddie's heart always surges at the rare but beautiful sight, knowing that the scent and feel of his clothes always give Jason comfort when he feels most vulnerable. Eddie will then just put a blanket on him, find Jason's giant ass shark and go put his uncle's famous chicken soup on for him.

You're welcome.

Awwww, sick Jason curling up with Big IKEA Blahaj as Eddie takes are of him just tugs at my heartstrings.

[sw-a-mpie]

(Here's a snippet of a Ghostface/Reader fic I'm writing. I haven't seen any/many of a killer/slasher reader before, so I'm gonna try my hand at one. The readers killer name is Pit vipers as their main method of killing is through injection/needles)

Feeling the body slump against you, a moment of peace makes itself known in your chest.

While the man in your grasp had put up quite a struggle, it only made the cyanide work all the quicker. Mixing with his blood, his body at war with itself as he tried to jerk himself away from you.

Internally giving yourself a pat on the back, pocketing the now useless syringe into your fanny pack; you manage to only twitch in surprise when the sound of slow clapping fills the empty alleyway.

Dumping the body from your grasp and turning around, you tense as a someone in the goofiest looking mask audibility tsks at you.

"Didn't know people did that in real life." Were the first words you spoke, the gas mask giving your voice a nasily tone. The person tilted their head at you, either in curiosity or sizing you up.

Cause no one walks around in a mask like that, wearing all black and looking as if they'd just stepped off the runway for Halloween costumes...if they weren't looking for a fight.

Or a chat, either was fine with you.

In the back of your head, you knew Elias was waiting for you at point central. Your...friend wouldn't want you engaging with Mr. Funny man that was...oh, starting to talk. Right. Focus time.

"My, my." He started, it was definitely a he...or a she who was using a crappy voice modulator. Maybe Elias...No! Focus!

"That was beautiful. You really are a master of your craft, but I already knew that, Pit Viper." The man seems almost joyous at meeting you, even with the fact of the very apparent body in the room. Alleyway.

Whatever.

Whoever this guy was, he spoke with his hands, almost animated in a way.

Your eyes roved his body, looking for obvious weapons; hidden or not. Because the man before you was...short. Maybe by a few inches. 3 tops.

"-nd I've seen you all over the paper! Quite the rapt you've made! And 67 known kills, but I bet you've been busier than that over 6 years." The guy states in a know it all voice, gleeful despite the cracking of his voice.

Oh....that's how many you've killed? Seems like more.

You really have to go now, because as much as hiding in dank, dark places was fun, you weren't that far from the bar and you didn't want to be seen just yet by some drunks.

But before you can think about sneaking away, the man starts to walk towards you. Quiet steps, no shifting of his clothes could be heard. He walked with purpose, and if you were to rip off the mask, you were sure you'd find eyes similar to yours.

Crazed.

Manic.

You took a step back, just one as he squared up to you, his white mask almost glowing in the moonlight.

He smelled like cheap bathroom cologne, strong enough to smell even with the gas mask.

It made your nose itch, but you held back a sneeze as the man tilted his head again.

"I was looking for a little more conversation out of you, but I'll just make myself clear." You could feel the greasy smirk on his lips.

"Better live it up on having your face plastered on the front page, because I'm planning on ripping it out from under your feet; sooner or later."

[justreadbooksblog]

Mr. Absolutely Not! A Romantic Comedy The Seattle Svenssons #1

Armed with comfy pants, overpriced coffee, and a highly anxious emotional-support corgi, I prepare to face him. Corporate boss. Villain. I step into his office. His perfect mouth twists into a sneer. There is no heart of gold beneath that suit, just a big black pit. He’s a shark in the frothy waters of high- stakes finance. He might be the quintessential asshole CEO, causing all in his path to quake in fear, but he’s never had to face down a basic bitch in her thirties.

I am exactly like the other girls—I adore Starbucks, greige home decor, and making snarky jokes with my bestie. I’ve even inherited a stalker from an ill-advised singles party. Yeah, the stalker is… a problem, one I’m hoping will just go away if I ignore it.

I can’t ignore him, though. He’s all broad shoulders and snide comments, picking apart everything about me as he circles me, going for the kill. He would never fire me, though. There’s no fun in that. He wants me to quit, to have a mental breakdown. Well, he can get in line behind my crazy gold-digging sister, my guilt-tripping mother, and the aforementioned stalker.

He pins me with his gaze. I brace myself, waiting for the verbal blow to come… Instead, he says, “I need a date tonight, and unfortunately, it has to be you.”

This is a full-length, enemies-to-lovers romantic comedy, complete with smokin’ hot-but-morally gray heroes, a smidge of suspense, and of course the perfect happily ever after!

Excerpt After a cold shower, I wrap a towel around my waist as I step out then lather up to shave. I’m just rinsing off the straight razor when something slimy and rough runs against my leg. I strangle a curse as the pudgy corgi stumbles back, tripping over the bath mat. “Mandy!” I bellow, wrenching open the slightly open door. “Mandy!” “Scram,” I tell the animal. “Out.” It runs under the vanity and stares at me. Dammit. “Mandy!” Her footsteps are soft over the carpet as she hurries to the bathroom. “Salinger? Salinger, what the—” The door opens a crack. “Eep!” She jumps back out of view behind the door. “Your dog, that’s what.” The animal lets out a whine. “Oh, Pepper, come. Come!” The dog ignores her. “Get in here now and get that animal.” Mandy makes that squeaking nose again. The corgi sneezes. “I can’t. You’re not wearing any clothes.” She’s still hiding behind the door. “Mandy…” Warning laces my voice. The door creaks open. Mandy, hand over her eyes, takes a hesitant step inside. “It’s under the vanity.” I point. Mandy walks into a wall. “Oof.” Groping around with her free hand, she begs, “Pepper, come on. You know you can’t be in here. We talked about this, remember?” Her hip bangs into the side of the vanity. “Ow!” “A few feet to the left.” I run some product through my hair. I’m not one of those men who rolls out of bed, washes their hair once a week with dish soap, and calls it a day. It takes time to look like someone you would trust with billions of dollars. “Pepper!” Mandy’s voice is pleading. “Pepper, please just get out of there.” “Christ.” Grabbing the robe that hangs on the back of the door, I shrug it on, sidestepping her as she walks straight into the glass door of the shower.

“Uncover your eyes.” I tie the belt. “Nuh-uh.” “Mandy.” Her fingers spread slightly, and her brown eyes peer at me. “I’m wearing a robe. Get your animal. This is absurd.” Mandy’s still peering through her fingers, and she gropes under the vanity, trying to grab the dog. It. Does. Not. Want. To. Leave. It makes a wheezing sound as she finally drags it by its back feet out from under the vanity. “I’m so sorry about that, Salinger.” Mandy’s corgi side-eyes me as Mandy tries to scoop it up with one arm. “You see me every day,” I remind the dog. Its lip curls up. “Mandy.” I point to her dog. “She went out before I brought her up.” Mandy sounds out of breath. “No. It looks crazy.” The whites of the dog’s eyes are showing, and her ears are laid back against her head. “That’s just how she is,” Mandy says. “She’s not going to freak out at the charity function. Is she? Do you have medication for her or anything?” Kneeling down in front of the dog, Mandy whispers, “Let’s try and keep it together. I’ll take you to Olive Garden for a personal plate of pasta, no garlic. But not ’til after the event because I know you’ll get an upset tummy.” “This is going to be a fucking disaster,” I say to the ceiling. “And where is my date?”

[honorhearted]

From this close, Ben could feel Francesca's frame shaking with soft laughter. Although it was distracting, exhilarating, he managed to keep a sound grip on the rope.

“At least Caleb is actually worthy of it.”

"And you're not worthy? Come now, don't sell yourself short, darling," Ben teased. "If anything, you're at least an honorable mention here."

With a chuckle, he pulled back on the rope with a grunt, gritting his teeth as yet again, he felt a bit of give from the other side.

"Lean harder!" Augustus called from the back of the row.

In turn, everyone (including Caleb's side) attempted to lower down at a diagonal, which brought everyone to yet another stand-still.

Unable to help it, Ben started laughing, his palms burning against the rope fibers as he squeezed Francesca along with every awkward, jerking tug.

"Oi, what's so funny, uh?" Caleb jeered. "I didn't realize the sting of defeat was so comical!"

"More like seeing you lift two feet off the ground!" Ben retorted.

“Stop goading him. He is only going to try harder.”

"Why yes, I'm counting on it -- once he tires out from all that huffing and puffing, we can yank them over the line." Amused, he asked, "Are you sure you're one of eight children? Because truly, this sort of trickery should be second nature to you by now."

With the sun beaming overhead and causing the participants to squint, Ben leaned back farther still, practically seething from the effort. And then, just like that, the game was suddenly over.

Caleb's star player gave a great sneeze -- more like a miniature explosion, given Mr. Howe's massive size -- and the commotion caused a few of the participants to lose their grip. Taking full advantage of this, Ben and Francesca's side tugged anew and then a great cry arose as one by one, each of them toppled backwards akin to a stack of dominoes. In turn, Caleb's side all vaulted forward; some even faceplanted into the grass.

Cheers arose and Ben laughed. With Francesca sprawled over top of him, and himself draped over the unfortunate victim from beneath, he curled his arms around Francesca's waist and squeezed her against his front, still laughing as he heard shouts and curses arise from the other side.

"We won," he whispered into her ear. "Unfortunately, this will be the last game you win for the day, seeing how we will soon be opponents."

Still snickering, he unsteadily rose onto his palms, if only to alleviate the pressure on the man beneath them, and after taking Francesca's hand, he attempted to help her to her feet. There were a few patches of grass stains and dirt smeared across her skirts, and with a grin, he asked, "Would now be a bad time to say you can get filthy in these games? I suppose Father and I will be teaching you how to launder next."

"You cheater!"

Looking up, Ben bit his lip to hide a sneer as Caleb stormed over, his chin covered in dirt and grass. Evidently, the whaler had been one of the faceplanting victims.

"Looking good there, Brewster," he quipped. "All you're missing in that garden there are a few flowers."

"Arsehole!" Caleb exclaimed, though he was grinning. After socking his friend on the arm, he asked Francesca, "You gonna avenge my honor, lass? I suppose I should be mad at you, too, but I know that Tallboy's the bad influence in all this. You've gotta beat 'im for me in the races."

With her hands wrapped tightly around the rope and a determination clouding her features, Francesca practically jumped at Ben’s sudden closeness, his arms around her seeming far too intimate for public company. Yet that was not the case at all – No, he was simply holding onto the rope, the same as she was. Still, it did not stop her cheeks from tinting themselves pink.

"Yes, because a marriage is anything but an alliance,” she retorted, her sarcasm punctuated with a raised brow and a sideways glance. His cheek nuzzled into her then, and Francesca found herself smiling, eyes closing briefly as she took in the immense happiness that ached in her chest. Happiness that was soon replaced with the fire of determination.

As much as she heaved upon the start of the game, Francesca got the feeling that she was having little impact on the overall score. She was not overly weak but she certainly was not strong either, having not had much reason to build up any upper body strength.

Caleb’s voice cutting through the crowd did manage to cause a laugh, Ben’s cutting remark in her ear almost earning an elbow to the stomach – If only he was not crucial to their winning, Francesca would have done it without a second thought. “It is surely one of the better titles to give up,” she replied, voice strained with the effort of hauling the rope, the friction burning her palms. “At least Caleb is actually worthy of it.”

The next few moments seemed to be at a standstill, the rope taut and unmoving, yet as soon as there seemed to be some leeway in the stakes, Francesca’s heart leapt. They were winning – They were actually winning.

“Stop goading him,” she warned, although the mirth was evident in her tone – It was difficult to hide the ghost of laughter hiding behind her lips. “He is only going to try harder.”

[gnattyplayssims]

1951 Pt2 - Don's Girl

Sofia absolutely loved being a mom and Ava was a perfect infant. Don wasn't the domestic type so he gave her her own trailer in Bedrock Strait. He never bothered her as long as he got her evenings at the club. He even provided a top-notch nanny.

Ava was a very wiggly baby so she had a hard time sleeping on her own. She often would only fall asleep to the sound of her mother's voice so Sofia would tell her fantastical stories about magic and princesses and worlds where all their dreams could come true.

Maybe it was because she was wiggly but Ava even liked tummy time. She liked working out her little arms and that it got her closer to those toys that were just out of her reach.

"There you go baby girl! Look at you, so big already! You'll be crawling in no time!"

Frequent sneezes and tummy time did not go well together. A violent sneeze shook little Ava's body and she bumped her face on the floor.

"Oh no Little Bird! Don't cry. You're okay. I guess we're done with tummy time for today." Sofia rolled Ava over, trying to soothe her.

The biggest thing Sofia struggled with was cooking. She had never had the opportunity to learn before. The orphanage had a cook and while her mother was a master at cooking, Anabelle had only taught her daughter a few things. Thankfully Ava didn't require fancy cooking to survive.

"Okay Little Bird, mommy has to go to work. Be good for Mrs Picket. Sleep all night so mommy doesn't miss a thing, I'll be home in a few hours."

Ava looked at her with those brown eyes that sometimes made her want to cry. She kissed her daughter and slipped into the darkness.

Ava always woke up with the sun so she was usually ready to start her day about the time Sofia was crawling home after a long night at Don's. She would try to sleep and shower before coming home but she didn't always have that option.

"You're worth it Little Bird."

One afternoon Sofia was resting with a book when a pleasant surprise showed up at her door. Nikolas had put together the pieces in Sofia's letters to track her down in Oasis Springs. He wasn't impressed. Her rich new boyfriend should be able to do better than a trailer.

"Nikolas, what are you doing here? How did you find me?"

"You didn't honestly think you could hide from me did you. You know I'm a Clever Sim."

"Well I'm happy to see you. I love Ava, but she's not the best company when it comes to talking about my day."

"You...could come home. It's almost Hannukah. I'm sure they'd love to see you"

"You wouldn't say that if you knew what dad said. I can take care of Ava on my own."

"With your pimps help"

"I wish you wouldn't call him that. It's not like that. I only woohoo him not just anyone"

"Gross! So do I get to meet Ava or keep standing on your porch."

Sofia brightened and led him in the trailer. "Hey Little Bird, this is Nikolas, my bestest friend in all the worlds."

"Hey Ava, wow...she...those eyes."

"I know, sometimes she makes this face and...it's hard."

Ava looked up at Nikolas with concern while Sofia tried to assure her. "Don't worry, Ava, I got you" Nikolas cooed craddling her close.

Suddenly Ava started to cry. Big wails that filled the trailer. "Oh no! Hey Ava, It's okay. Nik is a friend!"

"You better take her back."

A few days later Hannukah came and Sofia had managed to get the night off. As the first stars lit the sky she settled in with a grilled cheese and thought of home. Her father loved Hannukah and had been excited for their first Winter Season as a family.

Then he'd ruined it.

She was just preparing to go to bed in her own bed for once when she heard a key in the lock. "Don what are you doing here. I thought you said I could have the night off?"

"A night off from the club. Doesn't mean you get a night off from me. Celia is already on her way for Ava."

By the time she'd woken up Ava and handed her over to the nanny, Don had already dimmed the lights and lit the candles. "Thought I'd get into the festive mood. You like it?"

"I love it. Why are you being so romantic?"

"I can be romantic."

"Usually you like to get right to it."

"That will come, tonight I just want to savor you." He pulled her into another slow kiss. "Mmm, you're learning. That wasn't half bad."

"Really?"

"A little more practice and you might be a pro. Let's try again."

He pulled her close again, his hands moving over her.

"I heard a man was here a few days ago."

"What? You mean Nikolas?"

"Who is he?"

"My best friend from childhood. You don't have to worry about him"

"Worry? A man like that doesn't stand a chance against me...A man like that won't consume your dreams...or your body like I will"

He seized her wrist and pulled her closer, her moans getting louder as he moved. He looked at her hand. "You know I don't like this ring."

"I know...I didn't get a chance to take it off since you showed up unexpectedly."

He slipped it off her finger letting it fall to the carpet.

Don always knew how to completely satisfy her but for the first time she heard him say something she never thought she would, "That was incredible, My Dove."

"Really?"

"Really. You know I wouldn't lie to you about that. Next time maybe I'll even let you take the lead."

1952 Pt1 - Stefan's Dream

[iamcalmdammit]

Green-eyed monsters || [TASM!Peter Parker]

Summary: Your night together gets interrupted by Aunt May, but Peter walks you home so you have time to talk. He knows something's bothering you and you don't hesitate to enlighten him.

Note: This is based on a request. Jealousy. Fluff. Feel free to leave a review. I didn't do much proofreading, sorry.

Whenever his aunt had a night shift, Peter invited you over so the two of you could spend some time alone without adults constantly warning you to either stay in the living room or leave the bedroom door open. Peter’s lips curled into a mischievous smile as he leaned a little closer to kiss you, already pushing you on your back. But he miscalculated this move as the bed under you ended and you would have fallen to the floor if it wasn’t for his quick reflexes.

“I got you,” he said proudly.

You laughed while he pulled you back on the bed and gave you another kiss. To make sure this didn’t happen again, you sat on top of him and pulled him up into a sitting position by grabbing the front of his shirt, making sure your lips didn’t have to leave his even for one second. It was fortunate that you were alone because you didn’t want to hold back—not now. When he finally decided to help you out of your shirt and bra, you quickly did your part by removing his shirt then pushed him back on the bed to kiss his neck and slowly move down toward his chest.

Peter buried his hand into your hair and pushed you further down with a hungry look in his eyes. He didn’t have to say anything, you knew exactly what he wanted. You unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans when…

“Peter, I’m home,” came a familiar voice from the door.

“You said she had a night shift,” you told him in a hushed tone as you quickly started to get dressed.

He sat up and pulled on his shirt. “Because that’s what she told me this morning.”

Crap, you didn’t want to meet her like this. She was a very, very nice woman who supported your relationship, but she—along with your mother—was very, very worried you would risk becoming teen parents if left alone despite both of you being smart enough to know how to use protection. Groaning, you ran a hand through your hair and cursed under your breath. What would you tell her, why were you there?

“The closet,” Peter suddenly said. “Hide in the closet.”

Did he really ask you to do that? “I won’t hide in your closet. How would I get out without her noticing?”

“You want to meet her?”

“It’s… inevitable. I need to go home tonight or my parents will kill me.”

Peter bit on his lip as he looked around and put his hands on his waist. “Okay, um, we’ll say you came over to watch a movie.”

“Then why aren’t we in the living room?” you asked, pointing out the hole in the plan that would surely be found by her in a second.

“Damn it.”

“You showed me your secret stamp collection?” you teased him with a laugh.

“Not helping.”

Suddenly there was a knock on the door before May asked, “Peter, are you in here?”

“Yes, I’m here,” he called out then jogged over to open the door a little. “Aren’t you working tonight?”

“I didn’t feel well so I came home,” she replied and she sure sounded a little weak.

“Do you need anything?” Peter asked worriedly.

“No, thank you, I’ll be fine.”

You couldn’t help it. There was that tingling feeling in your nose, you knew it was coming, but there was nothing you could do to stop it. You sneezed loudly and it was audible even though you put your hands over your mouth in time.

There was a door between you two, but you could still see May’s suspicious look as she looked at Peter. “I thought we agreed that you two won’t be here alone. And she most definitely can’t sleep over,” she said seriously.

Letting out a sigh, you walked over to Peter and put a hand on his shoulder. “Hello, Mrs. Parker. I wasn’t planning to sleep here—I know the rules. I’m sorry,” you added with a guilty look on your face. This usually worked on her. Act like you regretted what you did, give her the puppy eyes, say a few nice words, and with that, you can easily avert a crisis. This wasn’t the first time she caught the two of you together.

“I’m so sorry, I know I should have at least told you,” Peter began, following your lead. “We volunteered to do a project together and we were working on that.”

“Which is an excellent excuse to spend time together, isn’t it?”

She saw right through you. Damn it.

“I think I should go home now,” you told them then turned back into the bedroom to find your bag.

May let out a long sigh and said, “Peter, I know it’s late, but please, walk her home. The last thing I want is something happening to her.”

He nodded. “Only if you’ll be fine until I get back.” May nodded. “Okay, there will be no detours, I promise.”

You lived near, only a fifteen or so minutes long walk away from them. You walked side by side on the sidewalk in silence, but you could tell by the look on his face that something bothered Peter. It wasn’t that his aunt caught you, and you were also sure it wasn’t her not feeling well. Then what was it? He’d been so strange lately that you were beginning to wonder if there was a reason behind it.

Was it a simple mood that would pass? Or did it have anything to do with her? After all, they had been spending quite a lot of time together lately.

Peter came to an abrupt halt and took your hand to make you stop as well. “Why were you acting so strange back there?” he asked seriously.

You raised an eyebrow in question. What the hell could he be referring to? You were as normal in his aunt’s presence as you could be in this situation. “Strange how?”

“As if you were a hungry little kitten craving attention,” he explained, massaging your hand with his thumb as he pulled you closer. “I love it, don’t get me wrong, but you’re usually not like that.”

Should you tell him? Maybe that would clear the air and make things a little better. Thinking so much about it only made you more and more depressed as the days passed. Just thinking about the possibility of losing him was enough to turn you into an emotional mess, and it sure as hell awakened the green-eyes monster inside you.

After taking a deep breath, you pulled your hand away. “It’s… I noticed that you’re spending a lot of time with Gwen recently. Why? Is there something going on between you?” you demanded, risking to sound like a jealous bitch. But you couldn’t care about that anymore, you wanted answers.

“What? You think there’s something going on between us?” he asked incredulously. “Hey, I would never cheat on you. Gwen is only helping me out with something, that’s all. There’s no need to worry, I promise.”

“What exactly is she helping you with, Peter? Because I can tell there’s something you’re not telling me and it makes me worried about you.”

He let out a sigh and began pacing back and forth in front of you. After what felt like an eternity, he finally stopped and turned to look at you again. “I’m… Spider-man,” he blurted out.

Being Spider-man? That was his explanation. You couldn’t help but laugh at this. Great joke, but it didn’t work for long. So there was something he wanted to hide, something that even made him come up with such a ridiculous lie. “Sure you are,” you replied sarcastically.

“Okay, you want proof?” You nodded without hesitation as you folded your arms over your chest. “All right, fine.”

Peter took a quick look around to see if anyone was near, but there was no one so he went on with his plan. He walked over to a nearby tree, jumped up, then grabbed a branch to hang from it. Except… No that couldn’t be. He wasn’t gripping that branch, he was sticking to it by his fingertips. This couldn’t be, it had to be a trick. But when you walked there to take a closer look at his hand, you had to admit that it wasn’t a trick.

“No way,” you muttered.

He let go of the branch and shrugged. “I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to be in danger because of me,” he explained, extending his hand in hopes you would take it. When you didn’t move, he let out a sigh. “I’m sorry, I know I should have told you already. But… how do you tell someone that you’re Spider-man? Gwen only found out by accident and it was nice to have someone around who knew the truth. She was helping me with my gear, that’s all.”

This made sense in a way, after all Gwen was smart, you were more than willing to admit that. But it still hurt that he didn’t trust you enough to tell you the truth. Him being Spider-man explained why he disappeared so suddenly sometimes, why you couldn’t reach him for hours, or why he acted stranger than usual. Maybe he was right, though. Being the girlfriend of New York’s favorite hero sure made you a target.

“Can you promise you’ll be completely honest with me from now on?” you asked, finally breaking the silence between you.

Peter nodded immediately as he took your hand and kissed it. “No secrets from now on, I promise. Can you forgive me?”

You only smiled before wrapping your arms around him and burying your face into his chest. “I love you,” you muttered without looking at him.

“I love you too,” he replied before kissing the top of your head. “We should go, I don’t want to leave Aunt May alone for too long.”

[groundcontrol21]

A Little Help from My Friend (M, Musketeers)

So the hindbrain wrote this one. CW for: inducing, contagion, mess, stuffy-talk, character with the kink, and absolute desecration of characters from classic literature. Very glad Mr. Dumas is not around to see what I've done here. How far we've strayed from the light.

This is a marked departure from what I usually write and I honestly don't know what came over me. I'm very nervous about posting it for some reason (?) so please be kind.

“Hehh… uhhh…” For the umpteenth time that day, the sneeze which had been building and dragging Aramis to the precipice now abandoned him there, snuffly breaths hitching as he rubbed his hands over his face with a groan. “Snf!” His nose squelched as he rubbed at it, in one last vain attempt to coax the sneeze forward. He huffed miserably. “I’m so ill, Porthos.”

As attractive as it was to watch Aramis’s face go through the slow, agonizing permutations of readying to sneeze time and time again, Porthos felt terrible for him. “I know,” he said, biting at his lip. “I didn’t have it half as bad as you.”

Aramis coughed, the sound wet and congested. Porthos’s own cough hadn’t sounded that bad, had it? He thought back to when he’d been sick with this cold. The first couple days it hadn’t been bad enough to keep him from duty, so Aramis had merely hovered beside him like a worried nursemaid, urging him to drink often and offering his own waterskin when Porthos’s had run dry. Then when Treville had taken him off duty to prohibit him from sneezing on the royal court, Aramis had been with him in his every spare moment, pouring him tea and washing his sodden handkerchiefs. Really, Porthos supposed, he should have expected that just as soon as his own sniffling diminished, Aramis’s increased, as though the cold had just seeped from his head into his friend’s.

Aramis’s croak drew him back to the present. He flopped his arm around miserably on the bed. “I’m beginning to think I’ll ne-eh’hehhh—never be well again. Snf!”

Porthos couldn’t help but crack a small smile. “Well, that’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

Aramis shot upward, curled in on himself in what Porthos was sure would end in a sneeze, only for his nose to be left a dripping, flaring, unsatisfied mess as the sensation abandoned him once more. “HEHH...ohh.” He pressed the back of his hand hard against his nose with a set of marshy sniffles. “If I could only sneeze, the world would look so much brighter.” 

In more ways than one, Porthos thought, making a concerted effort to swallow down the fluttering feeling in his stomach. He felt bad enough that he was enjoying his friend’s misery in a way; he would be damned if Aramis found out about that fact. Whereas the day previous Aramis had been veritably unable to stop sneezing, each expulsion somehow leaving him sounding more congested than the last, today he was many times taunted but never satisfied. Yesterday had brought its own challenges when Porthos had come to check on him, namely the need to hide any untoward reactions to his friend’s desperately ill sneezes, but when Porthos had agreed with Aramis’s plea for the heavens to make him stop sneezing, it hadn’t been with this new misery in mind. Misery for Aramis, but also for Porthos, because these near-sneezes were hardly any better.

Aramis coughed again, rubbing at the swollen glands near his jaw. “Oh, and my throat,” he moaned with a harsh swallow. “And my ear.” He winced as the coughs continued and Porthos felt his heart split in two. No sooner did the coughs cease than did his breaths begin to hitch again–

“Hehhh…Ihhh…IHHHhh–”

–only to fade away into nothingness once more. Poor Aramis let out a hoarse, throaty groan, and that pitiful noise not only increased Porthos’s concern but also must have banished whatever sense he possessed, for he suddenly heard himself saying, “I think I know something that could help you with the sneezes.”

Luckily, Aramis’s eyes were closed as he pinched and rubbed at his leaking nose, for Porthos was sure he looked like the portrait of a mortified man. His hands shook slightly and he blinked; help him? Dear God, what was Porthos thinking, exposing himself like that? Worse, what if Aramis accepted? How could Porthos pretend to be normal in that?

A second passed in which Aramis said nothing, and so Porthos rushed in with a fumbling attempt to somehow explain his offer. “It’s something I’ve done–uhh, it’s a bit unconventional… but…” Good Lord, Porthos thought, he was merely digging himself deeper into this godforsaken hole.

“Porthos,” Aramis sighed, cracking open a tired eye at him, “at this point I would join the Cardinal’s Guard if it would make me feel better.”

Porthos gasped in mock scandal. “You don’t mean that.”

He was stalling, this much he knew, but he also knew he would rather be trampled by every horse in the garrison than continue this conversation, even though Porthos had been the fool who brought this whole predicament upon himself in the first place.

Aramis said nothing in reply, merely fished his handkerchief out from beneath the blankets and gave a liquid blow into it. He fixed his gaze balefully on Porthos when he finished, rubbing at his nose with the corner of the cloth in slow, slurpy circles. He looked so utterly miserable, his cheeks flushed, his nose chapped, his eyes bruised with purple, that Porthos knew instantly he would swallow every inch of his pride to make him feel better. 

“Sit up, then,” Porthos said, and said a quick prayer to nothing at all to help him, for surely this was out of God’s domain. “I have a feeling this might help you.”

Aramis grumbled and groaned but did as Porthos bid him, dragging himself into a seated position and swaddling the thickest quilt from his bedsheets around his shoulders. Meanwhile, Porthos went to the post at the wall where he had hung his own hat and plucked one of the feathers from it. He cared far less for his hat than Aramis did, and anyway he knew that Aramis was planning to give him a new one for his birthday that year, as the man could really be horrible at keeping secrets sometimes. As such, one feather now could be sacrificed to the cause.

Porthos returned to the bed and took a seat across from the bundled, shivering Aramis. His heavy-lidded eyes fell upon the feather which Porthos twisted nervously between his fingers and he grinned, even as Porthos wished the floor would swallow him whole. 

“Ahh, I see,” Aramis murmured, and Porthos nearly lept to the ceiling.

“You-you see?”

“Would you believe me if I said I’ve done this before, too?” 

At this, Porthos’s heart nearly stopped. He felt dizzy, felt his mouth drop open, unable to believe what he was hearing. Aramis continued. “With a feather, I mean. I used to know a woman who was quite, shall we say, fond of sneezes.” Porthos could already feel his cheeks burning, but then Aramis’s eyes took on a far-off sparkle, glimmering with pride, and the words which accompanied them were almost his undoing. 

“Especially mine, so she said.”

I’m inclined to agree with her, Porthos thought. His cheeks felt positively aflame now, and Porthos hardly knew how he managed to keep his voice from being a croak as he asked, “By fond do you mean…” He licked his lips, almost praying that Aramis would spare him completing his question. “Aroused?”

Aramis smiled. “I was trying to be discreet, but yes.” That same faraway look of pride gleamed in his eyes again, and Porthos wished he could slap the man for it. “Ah, I wonder if she’s found a better sneezer than I.” 

At once, Porthos’s mind supplied him with I doubt it, and wished he could slap Aramis for prompting that, too. To hide the tremble he felt rising in his voice, Porthos scoffed. “You,” he laughed, shaking his head. “Discreet.”

“I am very discreet, dear Porthos.” Aramis laid his hand across Porthos’s, the one which held the feather, and Porthos could feel the man’s fever even through his fingers. “Notice how I have not so much as disclosed her name.” Removing his hands, Aramis pressed his thumbs beneath his eyes, near the bridge of his nose and massaged himself lightly. He groaned softly at the contact. “Snf! Now, enough reminiscing. My nose is positively stopped full and it n-n-eh-needs your help. Snf!” 

If the Lord did exist, He must have been very displeased with Porthos, for He was surely testing every mite of Porthos’s resolve this day. Porthos raised the feather slowly, his hand trembling so badly he was worried he might jab Aramis in the eye with it. He was almost unable to look Aramis in the face but he forced himself to, trying to distance himself from the thought that he was really doing this, that he was really putting a feather to his friend’s blocked, sniffly, cold-ridden nose just as he’d always–

“I don’t think it’ll take much,” Aramis said thickly. “Snf! I’ve been hovering on the brink all day.” He caught Porthos by the wrist, stopping the feather a mere hairsbreadth from its target. “I might—snf!—I might sneeze on you.”

Porthos cursed the stirring he felt in his trousers. “That’s alright,” he managed, hoping he didn’t sound quite as breathless as he felt. He tried to don an air of uncertainty; it wouldn’t do to seem to be enjoying it so much, for God’s sake. “I-if it was my cold first, that means I shouldn’t catch it again, right?”

“I should hope not bc I—snf!— I feel miserable and I’d feel even worse if I made you this miserable too.” 

Porthos made a sympathetic sound in the back of his throat and worked to push aside any thought that wasn’t of concern for Aramis. The man was freely admitting to feeling miserable, for God’s sake. Porthos could help him, would help him, and would not let any silliness get in the way of that. If this is what it took to alleviate the smallest bit of his brother’s discomfort, so be it. Porthos could deal with himself later. 

Porthos brushed the feather delicately beneath the red, chapped skin of Aramis’s nose, and the man gave a full-body shiver at the contact, bundling deeper into the blanket tucked around his shoulders. He coughed lightly, his nose already beginning to twitch and flare, and Porthos knew the man had been right, it wouldn’t take much. He inserted the very tip into one of Aramis’s nostrils, gave it a slight wiggle, and that was all it took before the man’s breath snagged on a ragged inhale. 

“P-hhhooo’ohhh’ISHHHUHHH! Ihhh’KSSHHH! Ihh’HESHHHH!” 

The dam finally broken, Aramis sneezed and sneezed, collapsing forward with each expulsion. Porthos could see the wetness hang in the air between them, could feel it land on his cheeks. Mess trailed down in ropy tendrils from Aramis’s nose and he cupped his hand in a futile and retrograde act of containment. “Heh’KMMPPFF! Hehh’RMPFFF!”

His hands shook with the fervor of his movement, and he was not successful at keeping them plastered to his face. As they broke away they brought with them a strand of mucus, clinging to his fingers, but still Aramis was far from finished. “Heh’ZDSHHH’ooo! Ihh’GSHHH’ooo! Hehh’ihh’INGSHHHH!” He sniffled almost convulsively between each sneeze, desperate for air. Porthos felt a mist on his cheeks and for a moment he was paralyzed. 

Porthos wouldn’t have minded if the man kept releasing a fountainous spray upon him, but to preserve his friend’s dignity he cast around feverishly in the bedsheets. “Damn it, Aramis, where did you put the handkerchief?”

Aramis was pinching his reddened nose, his fingers glistening with the mess which had spilled onto them. Already his hair was wild and framed his face like an unholy halo. “Udder the pill-Pshhh’IEEWWW! Pillow? Heh’DSHHH!”

It was not under the pillow, nor tangled in the bedsheets, but had rather fallen to the floor halfway beneath the bed. Porthos scrambled to retrieve it as his friend released sneeze after sneeze of the wettest, fullest sort, as though they had been building in his head the whole day. They probably had been, the poor man. He started to cough, only for more sneezes to cut him off.

“Heh’RSHHH! Heh’TSHIEW! Oh, thagk you,” Aramis sighed as he hurriedly took the cloth from Porthos. Their hands brushed, and Porthos swallowed heavily at the dampness he felt on Aramis’s fingers. He watched as Aramis took a deep breath before blowing what must have been every bit of fluid in his nose into the handkerchief. Once he had finished, he folded the cloth, turned it over, and blew again, before seeking out a dry corner and nuzzling into it, massaging his nose between the folds and making stuffy noises of relief.  

He lowered the cloth for a mere moment before his eyes clouded over again. “I’ve got… sdeeze! Ahh’TSCHOO! HEHH’TSHHH!” He blew his nose again and coughed throatily into the handkerchief, before his breath crescendoed into one final, massive sneeze. “Ahh’hihh’HITSCHHOOO!”

Aramis buried his nose in the folds again and simply held it there as if to let gravity drain away the rest, shutting his eyes in the utterly exhausted aftermath of such a display. Porthos was grateful for the man’s distraction, for he was finding it increasingly difficult to sit still. 

“Oh, Porthos,” Aramis groaned in a positively sinful manner as he finally lowered the handkerchief. “Snf, snf! Snf!” The sneezing had clearly shifted the congestion in his head, but already he was beginning to sound all bunged up again. His cheeks and nose were flushed scarlet, his hair a tangled mess, his eyes streaming, and before Porthos could stop himself he squirmed and gave a minute groan of his own. 

Then, to Porthos’s horror, Aramis smiled at him. “Am I wrong in saying that you appear to be enjoying this quite as much as Ju—my friend?” 

At once, the room began to spin. Had he really been so obvious? Porthos’s breath quickened as thoughts and curses jumbled together in his mind, his hands beginning to tremble, his legs starting to bounce in agitation. He would have to leave and hope Aramis would forget this; he was not some oddball lover who–

Aramis’s hand was back on his thigh, stilling its motion. “Porthos, mon ami,” he said lowly, and Christ Almighty, every ounce of congestion was back weighing on his voice. Porthos could not look at him. “I will not judge you. I—heh’TSHIEW!” 

As if on reflex, Porthos found his head snap up at the sound, and he damned himself. Aramis had twisted away to sneeze at his shoulder, but he turned back to Porthos with a bleary sniffle. He smiled at him again, and though his eyes were tired, they held nothing but gentleness.  “What a man likes in bed is between him and the parties in it.”

Porthos could hardly believe what he was hearing, could hardly believe what had happened and what was continuing to happen. He spluttered, choking over thank you for not thinking I am a deviant, and I hope I haven’t made things odd between us, until all he could think to say was, “But I–we–we’re not in bed!”

Aramis gestured to the mattress on which they sat with a laugh. “In any case, I am glad someone is eh-enjoying my… my cold. Hhhh’KSHHHH’uhh!” The sneeze burst from him too quickly to be adequately covered by the handkerchief, and so Porthos saw a heap of wetness slide out from his nose before being sniffled back. “Snf! Guhhh… Because it certainly isn’t me.” 

Aramis gave his nose a haphazard swipe with the cloth. “We could do some more if you’d like. There’s still a lot—a lot…” Aramis trailed off as though forgetting his train of thought, but the true reason for the pause became apparent when his breath gave an almighty hitch and his eyes flickered shut. “Hhhh’RSHHHH!” He sniffled thickly and gave a rueful little smile. “A lot left in there.”

Warmth pulled at the base of Porthos’s belly, but he dared not hope. “Are you sure?”

“After a day of being clogged up with no respite, sneezing like that was nothing short of divine.” 

You can say that again, my friend. Porthos smiled, anticipation thrumming in his veins as he picked up the feather once more, the realization washing over him that he would get to see that divine display again, that he would be able to watch his friend’s beautiful sneezes crash forth and not need to look away for fear or propriety’s sake. It was dizzying, and Porthos felt as though he might burst with it. 

Again, Aramis took him by the wrist. His eyes were alight, but serious. “Tell me how to make this more pleasurable for you.”

Porthos must have been dreaming. “P-Pardon me?”

“My l-friend, she liked it when I tried not to sneeze after she’d tickled me.” 

Porthos’s voice, when he found it, was naught more than a rough whisper. “I—uh—I’d like that too.” If he ever found this woman, he would fall at her feet and kiss them. 

“Noted,” Aramis said with a grin. “Snf!” He slid a knuckle beneath his nose. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to hold back given how congested I am, but on my honor as a Musketeer I will try.” He patted his breast proudly, and Porthos thought he might love the man for it. “What else?”

And if Porthos thought he loved the man before, he was surely infatuated by that comment. What else, the man asks? As if this weren’t already everything and more. The heady thrumming pulsated in his ears, and he could hardly feel his lips as they moved. “Tell me how you feel.”

Aramis blinked at him blankly, and for a moment Porthos feared all was lost. Stuttering, he pushed ahead. “Y-your symptoms. How miserable you feel.”

“Oh, you like it when I complain?” Aramis flashed him a sparkling, devilish grin, and in that instant Porthos saw what every woman must see in him. “You are in luck, dear Porthos, because I feel awful.” He frowned, shaping his features into a dramatic pout. “Every part of me feels run-down and achy—“

Porthos danced the feather ever so lightly across the man’s septum, marveling at how much it quivered at such slight contact. 

“Snf! And sh-shivery. Snf! Like I have a-a f-fehhh… a fever.” 

Porthos pressed his hand gently to Aramis’s warm forehead, his fingers stroking back the sweat-damp hair. “I think you do, poor Aramis.” 

“Poor me, indeed!” Aramis cried hoarsely, breaking off into a few sharp coughs directed at his shoulder. Porthos’s fingers slid to Aramis’s jaw and he guided the man’s face back to him. Porthos ran the feather against his septum again. Aramis’s entire face twitched, but he soldiered on. 

“My throat… my…” His expression went lax as the feather ghosted against his skin and his eyes fluttered to half mast. He gripped Porthos’s thigh, his fingers flexing and relaxing, his nails digging into the flesh. “Oh, I have to sn-sneeze. Hehhh—“

Were it not for the iron grip of his friend’s hand, Porthos felt as though he might float away into the ether. “Keep holding on,” he croaked, sounding almost as wretched as Aramis. “Keep talking.” 

Aramis doggedly blinked away the tears which had begun to form in his eyes. “Oh, snf!” His nose was red, chapped, and quivering, and yet Porthos taunted it more with the feather. Aramis squirmed. “My throat feels like I’ve choked on my sword. My ear feels hot and full. Snf! Hehhh…. Oh, and my nose. Snf! How is it possible for it to be so stuffed up and… and so runny… HEHhhh… Snf! At the same time?” 

And indeed, Porthos could see the evidence of such a predicament, a line of mucus dripping from one of Aramis’s nostrils no matter how forcefully his nose twitched and sniffled. It wouldn’t be long now, and so Porthos made the final gesture, inserting the feather into the snotty nostril inch by inch with a tantalizing slowness. Aramis squeezed his eyes shut and moaned, his breath already beginning to hitch. Porthos wiggled it a couple times and then withdrew it at the same pace, drawing with it a thick rope of slime. 

“Ohhhh…” Aramis was trembling, his breath shaking as he fought against his body’s urge with every ounce of strength. But he was no match, this Porthos could tell; he was going to lose this battle, and lose it quickly. 

“I’b really…hehhh’EHHH...huhhhh—Snf, snf!” His voice was rapidly taking on a breathier and breathier quality with each word he spoke, and Porthos’s heart raced. “Really dot feelig—HESHHHOO! Ihh’TSSCHHH! Uhh… I’b dot feelig well at all, Porthos. Heh’TSHIEWWW! Oh…”

They were both done for now, Aramis lost in a violent haze of sneezes, even more vigorous now than the first, and Porthos swirling in his own private ecstasy. “Heh’ZDSHHH! KSHHH’uhh! Hehh…Ihhh..HEHISHHH! Hhhh’ITSCHHH! Snf! Huh’TSHHHH’ooo! Nggghhh…”

Aramis rubbed at his nose with the handkerchief as he sniffled and sneezed, letting it fall to the side with a sigh of irritation upon finding the cloth utterly soaked. Mucus dribbled down his lips no matter how many times he sniffled, and the sharp inhalations made him cough. 

“Let it all out,” Porthos rasped, “you’ll feel better.”

“I deed–de-heh’HESHHH’oo! Snf! Oh, Porthos… Heh’KSHHHIEW! Snf, snf! A haddkerchief–snf–please! Ahh’TSHCHH!” It was true, Aramis’s face was a mess of fluid from his eyes to his chin. Porthos dug out a handkerchief from the pocket of his trousers and passed it to Aramis, before flopping back against the bed and tending to himself as Aramis blew and blew. All the while, Porthos lay on his back, panting, staring at the ceiling as visions of what he had just seen danced across his view. 

“Ugh, I’b exhausted,” Aramis said upon finishing, before dropping abruptly onto Porthos’s chest, pillowing his head against his breast and curling up beside him. Porthos stroked the top of the man’s head, gratified when the man let out a hoarse and congested, yet content hum at the contact. He pressed a long kiss to the hot skin of Aramis’s forehead, suffusing it with the thank yous and I love yous and my heart breaks when you aren’t feeling wells that he could not put into words. Aramis turned and pressed his nose into Porthos’s shirt, drawing a long breath in before muffling his next sneeze into the fabric, though some still spilled over onto Porthos’s exposed skin where the shirt came undone at his chest.  “Ehh’KMPFFF! Oh…” He sniffled and laid his head back down on Porthos’s chest, before murmuring tiredly, “You’d best hope you can’t catch this again.”

[poisonheadcrabsalesman]

Crosiers and Caminos

A commission for my good friend @tigerdrop. I got the chance to write about his wonderful characters from Stay Away From Daniel Creech. Jamie and Daniel are so fun to write.

This work is explicit. 18+. We all know the drill.

Jamie watches like a sweaty neurotic hawk as Mrs. Turner gets helped into one of her friend’s cars in her Sunday best from his hiding spot in the front room. The house is near silent save for the settling creaks and his own ragged breathing. Heart thumping loudly, he shifts his weight to get a better view, heat rising in his cheeks as he feels like some kind of pervert.

He had snuck into the dusty old office to peer out the sheer curtains, but now it seems that’s backfiring on him as he tiptoes out of the room, to yet another window, barely stifling a sneeze. 

Just normal guest activities, hiding and creeping on an old woman on her way to church to see if he’s finally got the house to himself. 

He squints out the condensation-fogged window, leaning against the wall to avoid giving himself away. The car sputters down the tiny lane towards the church on an already hot Sunday morning, way too early in his opinion, but she should be gone long enough for him to do what he needs.

He lets the lacy curtain fall back into place and shuffles over to the door in the near dark, cursing as he stubs his toe and fumbles the doorknob with his sweaty palm. Heat is already crawling up his neck and flushing his face from the shame. He’s sneaking around like a freak and for what! 

Whatever. It’s fine and natural to– Whatever.

There is no way in hell she will be back anytime soon, and he will be able to hear her friend’s ancient caddy as it pulls into the driveway, even from his borrowed bedroom at the back of the house. He’s totally in the clear. 

A loud, choked rumble starts up and makes him yelp, heart pounding in his ears as the AC struggles to kick on. Cool air cycles through the ancient system with a displeased hum and he sags where he stands, hand over his chest. 

The guest bedroom calls to him, and so does his bag of supplies. He’s fine. He’s been waiting for this, and he’s prepared. Fucking sue him.

He’s got a locked door, a can of febreeze from the Barn Mart, and several weeks worth of pent up stress he needs to take care of.

It’s all coming to a head because he saw Daniel Creech work on some cars.

Jesus Christ, what is wrong with him?

Less than a week ago he was thinking that the guy had killed someone in the woods and that Jamie was going to be next, and now he’s sneaking around the guy’s grandma’s house looking to get off on the memory of their hands touching.

Was he that desperate that the heavy gaze of that weird mechanic was doing things for him? Jesus Christ, Jamie you need to get out of here soon, he’s not going to fuck you.

It didn’t help that his own hands felt inadequate next to Daniel’s or the fact that the whole thing had started when he walked over to the Creech garage. His mental state had deteriorated since that day and he felt like a marble being battered and rolled through a Rube Goldberg machine whenever he thought about it.

After checking in with Tracy to find that, yes Daniel was there, and not fucking off in the woods or something, Jamie just waltzed right in with a stupid grin on his face and sweat beading on his temples. 

It’s not like Jamie was popular in town and seeing as how his van still needed a lot of work, he ended up spending a lot of time hanging out at the Creech garage. Things were better now that he didn’t think Daniel was going to kill him. 

Still didn’t help him not act like a freak whenever he was near the guy.

Something about him just pressed every single one of Jamie’s buttons. Hot or cold, Daniel would just stare at him with those dark eyes peering up from under his hat. And then Jamie would open his mouth and over-explain and get sweaty and flustered, or get defensive and sweaty and flustered, or straight up get mad and sweaty and flustered. 

He went through a lot of gatorade.

Jamie had walked in to find him elbow deep in his El Camino with his jacket off. It was the most skin he had seen on the guy, ever. 

He felt his nervous grin disappear as he took in the sight of Daniel Creech’s muscled arm tightening something in the engine bay, pale skin on display for the first time in Jamie’s presence.

Whatever dumb greeting he had planned vacated his head along with all coherent thought as he watched him twist the cap off some kind of tank. Daniel’s arm flexing as his oil slick fingers gripped the lid and it came off with a satisfying pop.

The memory burns like a brand. Jamie hadn’t been able to take his eyes off the way Daniel’s fingers moved, or the way he hefted up a jug to pour something into the car, he doesn’t know what, he wasn’t focused on that.

Jamie had been watching pale skin work with the quiet confidence of years behind the movement. His bicep moved, muscle bunching and holding there until the job was done. The overhead light cast its shadow over the curve of his arm and the brim of his hat, and Jamie had stood there breathless in the humid heat of the garage. The fingers returned, deftly twisting the cap back on with no wasted movement. 

Daniel had started wiping his hands on a rag, cleaning each finger and knuckle with a rag and his mouth had gone dry at the sight.

Inhaling sharply, Jamie shakes his head at the memory. Already his cheeks burned and his heart was crescendoing in his ears. He gets as comfortable as he can and wriggles out of his pants and boxers. There is a bit of a time crunch to be mindful of.

Jamie groans as he peels the soft material of his boxers down his legs, hissing as the wet spot touches his thighs. Christ alive, he was already so wet? Just from thinking about Daniel?

God, should he have put a towel down? 

Shame curls in his belly, and floods his system worse than the white-hot arousal and his daydream about Daniel’s fingers takes a sharp turn.

Would he be mean? Does he already know? He always looks at Jamie with those fucking eyes and he can never get a read on the guy. 

But in the garage, he had seemed….off, or more off than usual. 

His jacket was gone and Jamie had felt a bit like a voyeur walking in to see him fixing his own car. Daniel had locked onto him as soon as he opened his mouth, eyes a bit wild like a cornered animal, and he’d pulled an oil stained hand out of his engine bay as quickly as he could.

And then of fucking course Jamie got nervous like they were just meeting again and started babbling. Words spilled out and he felt his face redden as the stupidest attempts at conversation were met by Daniel’s brick wall of a personality. Jamie had nearly given up when he squeaked out some car related question; his voice cracking embarrassingly and he wished the ground would open up and swallow him.

That had been the right thing to say though. A spark behind Daniel’s eyes and then the mechanic was stiltedly explaining what he was doing. 

Next thing Jamie knew he was being waved over as Daniel lectured about his car and the different parts. 

“Oil’s cheaper than parts, you know.” Daniel looked at him and then away, gesturing back to the maze of wires, tubes, and machinery Jamie couldn't begin to describe. The garage felt warm, not as bad as the humid air outside, but Jamie tugged at his collar anyways as Daniel continued. “S’why I’m changing it out, that and the filter. Look here.”

Jamie nodded and listened, mesmerized by Daniel’s voice droning on about his small block Chevy and the larger oil filter. He doesn’t know jack-shit about cars, but Daniel does. He seemed to know everything, rambling on in his stilted way, voice rasping pleasantly as he poked and gestured for Jamie to follow. Something about Air-cooled and oil-cooled and bigger filters meaning enough extra oil for the engine.

Jamie nodded again, furrowing his brow and made some kind of comment about how he hasn’t really worked on cars and couldn’t see the part Daniel was referring to. He had pointed and leaned forward, closing in on Jamie’s personal space. A flash of emotion, frustration maybe?, ghosted over Daniel’s face and he urged Jamie closer.

Jamie’s next memory of the incident was a bit of a blur, and for good reason. All thoughts left his head as Daniel showed him the part by taking his hand and easing it between the frame of the car and the engine. 

"Oh it's uh, warm. Ha." He squeaked as Daniel's hand slid over his and led him to the hidden part. He babbled, hoping like hell Daniel couldn’t feel his pulse pounding. “Makes sense, I guess.” 

He hoped the warmth of the engine hid how clammy he felt, but Daniel's rough slick fingers slid over his hand, engulfing it and making his heart pound harder.

His blood rushed in his ears and all he could do was hang on and nod as Daniel droned on about the car while his fingers slipped sinfully between Jamie's and slid against the sensitive thin skin. 

He showed him where the bolt was but none of the information stuck in Jamie's mind beyond the burning shame of how Daniel's hand dwarfs his. His fingers are short and clumsy compared to the mechanic's, and his palm covers the back of Jamie's hand with ease. Calluses rubbed the back of his hand and burned themselves into his memory.

His face was flushed and it wasn’t not the garage or the still cooling engine. 

The memory of the heat burns, his face aflame and his core pulsing. Why is he so affected? Jesus Christ.

The guy just had some nice hands. And knew his stuff. And made Jamie’s heart race when he looked at him. Whatever.

Sitting up for a better angle, Jamie hisses as he brushes his dick. He had barely started touching himself but it’d been a long time since he had a moment to himself. That’s all.

He’s so worked up it’s going to be over too soon. It’s not like wants to come so quickly from thoughts of his mechanic. His own fingers frustrate him more than do anything good so he backs off, circling back to what feels good. Jamie has to do this right or it won’t fucking work and who knows when he’ll have another chance. He isn’t going to go jerk off when he’s out surveying in the woods!

He bites his cheek and thinks about plants.

Cercis canadensis

Slick warm heat and rough fingers, maybe they would tangle in his hair.

He's going to lose it too quickly.

Polystichum acrostichoides

Crosiers unfurling slowly. Roots digging deep, strong enough to reach down and grow into the mountain itself.

Plants. Heat. His own too small hand.

Jamie thinks about walking in the heat, trekking up the steep hill to the Creech property. Sweat making his shirt stick uncomfortably to his back and belly. Just enough of an uncomfortable memory to distract the wire tight tension building low in his core.

His mind's eye flashes to dark eyes and strong fingers. A rough hand on his, guiding him lower into the warm depths of a car. Gruff, stilted voice in his ears. Would he do it right there in his garage? Against the hood of his car?

How would he feel if Daniel was the one working him open? His brain betrays him and he pulses around his own pathetically short fingers, soft and not at all what he wishes were in him. 

Daniel had big hands, and those eyes. Would he watch Jamie first? Make him beg for it, to have fingers in him that could stretch him better, fill him better.

A whine keens, shattering the silence. He bites his lip as he fights the noise that escaped against his will. Palming his dick, he humps his hand and remembers their hands together.

Would Daniel help? Put his hand over Jamie's again and dip down into slick warmth, really show him how it's done.

Stretch him with those fingers that Jamie had seen twisting bolts, had felt guiding him. Would that make Daniel smile that small, soft little thing Jamie had seen once, the one he wanted to see again to make sure it was real?

Jamie bucks off the bed, back arching and mouth open as he comes. Sparks on the edge of his vision ignite as he clenches and rides out the aftershocks. Breathing heavily as he comes back down he curls his legs up and groans.

Contentment and shame war inside him and while he feels good, looser after his orgasm, the emotions curdle inside him.

He stretches out and stares at the ceiling, grimacing as he touches a wet spot. The febreeze bottle looks on from its spot on the shelf accusingly.

Jamie’s going to have to wash the sheets.

[gotnofucks]

No One’s Bitch

Pairing: dark!Steve x Reader

Summary: If Steve thought you’ll bend to his will, he was dead wrong. This kitty has some claws.

Words: 1.5k

Warning: Non-con/Dub-con, smut, kinda hate fuck?, kidnapping, language, breeding kink, 18+ ONLY

A/N: This is my Happy Hoelentine’s Day gift to @mariahthelioness29​ . Hope you enjoy this love, wishing you a very orgasmfull Valentines! This amazing challenge was hosted by the very talented @amythedvdhoarder​ @drabblewithfrannybarnes​ and @chrissquares​. You girls are amazing! 

“We need an ultrasound!” Steve shouted, carrying you into Bruce’s office and dumping you on a stretcher. Your hands beat at his shoulder in protest, a snarl ripping from you as he finally let go.

“I told you I can walk!” You scream at him and he scowls at your tone.

Bruce blinked at you two for a minute before sighing, wheeling out his ultrasound machine next to you and motioning you to pull up your top.

“Did you finally get her pregnant?” He asked in an almost bored voice and you wrinkled your nose at him in disgust. The nerve of everyone in this goddamn tower!

“No, he didn’t, and if I have it my way he never will.” You huff, earning a disapproving look from both males. Bruce squeezed some cold gel onto his probe and put it on your stomach, gliding it along your stomach and abdomen, eyes trained on the screen.

“Don’t be too sure about it. I’ll like to see you try to escape once I put a baby inside you.” Steve growled and your nostrils flared in anger. You flipped him off, uncaring of his strength and threats. When he kidnapped you and claimed you months ago, Steve didn’t expect you to fight this long. He thought he’d be able to extinguish your fire, force you into a loving relationship and be with him. Well, the jokes on him. You’re no one’s bitch. Not even Captain America’s.

You looked at the monitor too, biting your lip nervously as Bruce pressed the probe deeper, making you hiss.

“What the fuck?” He sputtered, raising his brows at you and Steve. You rolled your eyes, relaxing a little. Thank fuck its not stuck in your throat. “Is that a ring in your stomach?”

Steve slumped on the stool beside you, sighing deep.

“She swallowed it.” He simply said and you sat up quickly, pointing an accusing finger at him.

“Blond fucker’s a liar” You snap, “Who the fuck hides a ring in food anymore? Can you get anymore cliché?”

Steve slams his hands on the stretcher beside you, caging you in as he pressed in close to touch his nose to yours. The musky scent of his aftershave wafted over to you and clung to your pores, making you want to sneeze.

“I was trying to be romantic.” He said. “It’s valentine’s day tomorrow. I wanted to spend it as fiancés.”

You breathed out a disbelieving laugh, still surprised at how normal everyone treated this absurdity of your relationship with Steve. If it could even be called that.

“You thought that snatching me away from my family and life was romantic? You thought that taking me against me will and fucking me unconscious every night was romantic. What does a man like you know of romance and love, Mr. Rogers?” You sneer in his face.

Even as his hand came to fist your hair and pull, you don’t cry out in pain. You’ve trained yourself well enough to somehow keep the tears in your eyes and not have them spill over.

“Don’t sit here pretending you don’t come on my dick like a slut, darling” Steve said, his voice low and deep. You barely registered Bruce clearing his throat and walking away, too busy focusing on the rapidly darkening blue in Steve’s eyes.

“If we’re being honest here Steve, then your meaty cum-gun is the only redeemable part about you.” You sweetly said to him and whined as you were roughly push on your back, Steve’s body covering yours.

His lips descended on yours in a frenzy, hands frantic as they pulled at your pants. Months ago, you’d have been embarrassed by the moans that spilled from your parted mouth, but when it became clear that earth shattering orgasms was the only reward for you in this shitshow of an arrangement, you decided to make the best of it.

You pulled on Steve’s hair, biting his lip roughly when he pulled out his hard length and slapped it against your glistening folds, lubing himself in your juices. He growled against you, two fingering unceremoniously thrust into your opening that had you arching your back with pain and pleasure.

“Pathetic” Steve spat, “Only have to touch you and you become a whiny cumslut.”

You groan, wrapping your legs around his huge body to urge him closer. Heels dug into his back and you raked your nails across his scalp and back, leaving bite marks across his shoulder that had him pushing inside you with one hard thrust. You threw your head back, a choked sound howled directly in Steve’s mouth as he hips became flush with yours.

“Look at you, my greedy girl” He mocked, pulling back until only his tip was inside before plunging back inside. “Can’t get enough of daddy’s cock, can you?”

The fragile stretcher threatened to give out under the force of you both, squeaking dangerously as Steve powered into you, sweat and spit mixing on your skin and leaving you damp.

“Is that all you got, Captain?” You challenged, “Can’t make me stay even with a magic cock, can you?”

Steve’s hands took yours and pinned them beside your head, hips almost a blur as he went in and out of you, hitting so deep he seemed to move your womb.

“Fucking bitch, I’ll have you round with my seed. We’ll see how well this mouth runs when it’s too busy sucking my cock and singing lullabies to our brat” He said.

Your brows knit together as he hit a spot inside you that had you mewling, breath coming out in broken pants. You put your lips at Steve’s eyes, licking his earlobe before pulling on it.

“Can’t even get me pregnant. Maybe you should get Bucky to help.”

That was the last straw and Steve’s growl was almost animalist as he ripped away your top, sucking greedily on your hardened nipples while his dick speared you open. You screamed as the stretcher finally snapped, you and Steve tumbling to the floor, still fucking like animals in heat.

The coil inside you wound up tighter the harder Steve went, his tongue swirling inside your mouth and not letting you speak. Your eyes were locked with his furious ones, hips coming up to meet every thrust of his with your own, your juices dripping down your thighs and making a mess.

“I’ll fuck you ten time a day, I’ll spread you open and fuck you in front of everyone until the only thing you’re capable to thinking and saying is my name. You think you won, but no baby, I can do this all day!” He hissed at you and pinched your clit harshly. You snapped, a powerful orgasm tearing through you and making your world turn upside down. You howled, an agonized scream of pure, unadulterated, sinful pleasure echoing around the room.

Steve fucked you through your high, almost close to his own release when you used all your strength to turn him over, straddling him and bouncing on his cock. His eyes widened, his dick going deeper as you took hold of his shoulders and sank down on him with a moan.

“Come inside me then, Captain. Come, fill me up. Let’s see if you manage to fuck a brat inside me today after all.” You provoked and Steve grunted, huge arms holding you close as he twitched inside you, his cum painting your insides.

You collapsed on him, sweaty and spent, breath laboured. He wasn’t much better, the broken stretcher digging into his back as he pulled you closer, nuzzling his nose in your neck. You tried to jerk away, rejecting his affections but he only held tighter, forcing a sweet, almost innocent kiss on your pursed lips.

“One day, I’ll fuck you so good you’ll fall in love with me.” Steve promised and your eyes narrowed. Covered in his scent and essence, you were as marked by him as a tree peed on by a dog.

“One day, you’ll wake up with a dagger inside your chest and you’ll only have yourself to blame.” You remarked. Steve lazily chuckled, bringing you even closer. You wondered if he planned to fall asleep on the floor with you when Bruce came in, resolutely looking at the ceiling.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” The doctor bemoaned and you sarcastically smiled at him despite him still looking away.

“What, haven’t you ever witnessed a good shag?” You ask and Steve’s chest rumbled beneath you. “And you, let go. I need to get that fucking ring out of me.”

Steve sighed, reluctantly releasing you and sitting up. He gave you his t-shirt to wear, your own laying in tatters on the floor.

“Will I need a surgery?” You asked Bruce who was grimacing at the mess in his small office.

“No, it should come out naturally in a few days.” He said. When you just looked at him dumbstruck, he wrinkled his nose, a little amused. “You’ll have to pass it out.”

Steve’s eyes met yours and you resisted the urge to throw something at him.

“I’ll get you a new one.” He said dismissively and you stomped your feet, fixing yourself the best you could and moved towards the door.

“I am not marrying you!” You shout over your shoulder, pushing open the door and not sparing a glance behind.

“We’ll see.” Steve said, a smile on his lips.

[raindownforme]

Hey! I’m back with another request!

Reader and Ted practicality have all the same classes and whenever they have to do projects or work in pairs Ted without fail or shame is always like “Can she work with me! Please!” Even in front of the class So he can flirt with her during the project

She/her pronouns pls :D

Also I LOVED ORBITING JUPITER I NEVER HEAR ANYONE TALK ABOUT IT

An Ode to You

Ted Nivison x reader [she/her used]

The teacher, Mrs. Statham, smacked a stack of papers on her rolling cart. She lined the edges of them up to make it straight, then held the stack in her off arm. She turned to face the class, smiling kindly as she stood tall in her professional shoes.

“This week, we’re starting a project. You and a partner will be writing poetry based on prompts and discussing your different styles of writing. Your partner will be randomly assigned-“ the class groaned, some shutting books in protest. “Hey. It’s 9am, you think I want this either?” The class grew quiet. “Exactly. Now, I’m pulling names from a hat. First is…”

y/n leaned into her open palm, closing her eyes for a moment. She could hear students shuffling around their chairs, tennis ball covered legs scraping the cheap cement. She ran a hand through her hair, leaning back to stretch her back over the cheap school chair.

“YES.” Someone stood quickly in the opposite corner of the room, the scraping and falling sound of the chair making y/n jump. She opened her eyes to see her classmate Ted standing up in the corner with his arms upright in a cheering motion. He smiled widely, looking over towards y/n. He quickly realized his outburst, dropping his arms and pushing his glasses further onto his face. “Should I pick up that chair?”

“Yes, Ted. Then go move over to your partner.” Mrs. Statham shook her head, going back to the task she’d been working on before hand. Ted gathered his things, placing the chair back to where it belonged, and headed across the classroom to where y/n sat. He pulled the chair next to her out and sat down, smiling widely.

“Hey, come here often?”

y/n rolled her eyes, trying to hide a small smile. “Good morning Ted.”

“Good morning gorgeous.” Ted looked away from y/n, sorting through his backpack for a spiral notebook and a mechanical pencil. He turned back to y/n, intending to say something, but Mrs. Statham spoke first.

“All partners have been assigned. On the board are types of poetry and some one-word prompts. Yes you and your partner must pick the same type of poem and prompt. If you have any questions, I’ll be up here grading. Go ahead.”

The students began chattering as Mrs. Statham went to her desk. y/n huffed, staring at the board. She wasn’t well-versed on types of poetry, and the list was quite long.

“How about an Ode? You know like an Ode to something?” Ted gestured with his pencil as he talked. “I’ll let you pick the category.”

“An Ode to…” y/n scanned the board, looking for the right word. “Does that say darling?”

“No?” Ted squinted as he looked at the board as well. “I think it says daring. But I like darling! An ode to darling.”

y/n smiled, turning to begin writing in her own notebook. The rest of the lesson went on with only a few scattered comments from Ted.

“What color are your eyes?”

y/n looked up at him, confused. “Why?”

“Never mind I got it.” Ted furiously scratched at his paper, y/n returning to her own.

“What season is your favorite would you say?”

“Fall.” y/n set down her pencil, smiling kindly at Ted. “I like the leaves and it’s usually a nice temperature out. You?”

“I’m a late spring early summer kind of guy.” Ted taped his pencil over and over in a slow rhythm he could only hear in his head. “I mean, unless you have a pollen allergy.”

“Why?”

“I can’t take you out if you’ll be sneezing and coughing the whole time. I don’t know, maybe the fall could be a good time.” Ted waved like he was getting rid of an idea. “I’ll figure it out.”

“Okay?” y/n thought to herself for a moment, then ignored Ted’s question to go back to her work.

“Hey what’s your-“ Ted was cut short by the ringing of the school bell. He groaned dramatically as y/n stood to gather her things. “No! Stop.”

“Why?” y/n didn’t stop, instead zipping her bag shut and throwing it over her shoulder. Ted grabbed onto the edge of her shirt, tugging slightly.

“I don’t want you to go.”

“Ted, I have a class across the school. I’ll see you tomorrow.” y/n gently pulled her shirt from Ted’s grasp. He sighed, standing up.

“Fine. Let me walk you there at least?”

It took Ted all of a minute to gather his things. He shouldered his back pack and led y/n out of the classroom. He let his hand fall to his side, gently taking y/n’s middle finger and wrapping his own finger around it. He looked down at her, smiling softly, and held on tighter when she showed no sign of discomfort.

The two walked in silence across the school, taking y/n to her science class. Ted stopped her before she walked in, keeping her finger is his grasp. “Can I see you later?”

“Ted, we have class tomorrow. I’ll see you then.” y/n patted him in the arm, politely excusing her self. She watched him walk backwards down the hall, and turned to walk into the class.

“I’ll be thinking of you!” She rolled her eyes at Ted’s outburst, avoiding the peering eyes of her classmates.

———

The next few days continued the same way; Ted endlessly flirting while y/n write her ode. The writing came easy to her. She wrote about the stars, about the constellations and the night sky. It was a basic topic she knew, but it was easy to write about and it fit the prompt. She wasn’t sure what Ted had written about, but by now everyone had finished their poems, and it was time to present.

“Alright, Ted and y/n?” Mrs. Statham sat behind her desk, yawning into her mug of tea. “Please state your type and prompt.”

“We chose an Ode, and I miss read the prompt so instead of daring we chose darling?”

She nodded, keeping her eyes on the grading sheet in front of her. “I like it. Go ahead.”

y/n cleared her throat. She looked over at Ted, waiting to see who would go first. He gestured to her, offering her to go first while smiling kindly. Oddly enough, for it being the first class of the day, Ted seemed to be the most awake in the classroom.

“For darkness around you, a pattern to make do…” y/n read robotically from the sheet of paper in front of her. The poem lasted only ten seconds, letting her quickly set it aside and awkwardly smile at her classmates. There was light clapping from the crowd, complimentary almost.

“Very good.” Mrs. Statham scribbled on the grading sheet with a blue pen. “And what was that called again?”

“An Ode to the Stars.”

“Thank you. Ted you’re next?”

Ted nodded eagerly, straightening himself. He smoothed down the front of his shirt and looked expectantly at Mrs. Statham. “Do I-“

“There are no extra credit points for memorization. However, if you’d like to, go ahead.”

“Thank you.” Ted turned back to y/n, smiling widely. “I’m encaptured in your loving stare; My darling girl, my lady, fair.”

Ted went on for a long minute, leaving y/n a flustered mess. Every stanza, Ted found a new way to look at her. A new way to gesture to her. A new way to emphasize the lines he spoke. And after that long minute, the class fell silent for a moment before clapping loudly for Ted’s display.

“Thank you both. Class, did we notice any differences in Ted and y/n’s writing?”

Someone y/n didn’t know the name of put their hand upwards, prompting Mrs. Statham to call on them. “Well, y/n wrote about an object, Ted wrote about a person.”

“Good. Is there anything else we can infer class?”

“Oh!” Someone in the back classroom sat up straighter as they shouted out. y/n couldn’t quite see who it was. “y/n wrote kind of factual? Like things that we could all see. But Ted sees the person differently than we’d normally… perceive them?”

“Yeah. Exactly. Alright good job you two, go ahead and take your seats.”

Ted followed y/n to the shared desk in the far corner of the classroom. Another set of students went up to present theirs, and y/n kept her eyes glued forward on the pair, avoiding looking at Ted.

“I really liked yours.” Ted leaned over to whisper in her ear. She jumped a bit, surprised by how close he sat. “I think it was beautiful.”

“Thanks.” y/n chewed at the inside of her lip. “What was yours called again?”

“An Ode to You.”

“Sorry?” y/n tried to swallow the heat rising to her face, trying to not be flustered in front of Ted.

“It’s called An Ode to You.”

“To me?”

“No— well.” Ted twirled a pencil around in his finger tips. “It’s called An Ode to You, not like An Ode to y/n, I mean technically it is about you-“

“Me? What, are you flirting?”

Someone snorted in the seat in front of y/n and Ted. “You just noticed?”

y/n watched Ted’s face turn bright red. “I mean, they’re right. You just noticed?”

“I assumed it was a joke.”

“Why would I be joking?” Ted looked at y/n with concern etched across his face.

“I don’t know! Are you not joking?”

“No.” Ted very gently took y/n’s hand in his. “y/n, my darling. I would never joke about you.”

“Well Ted, honey, it’s 9am and you’re flirting with a tired teenager.”

“Can I flirt with you some other time?”

“Yes.” y/n yawned, stretching her arms upwards. “Any other time.”

“Tonight then? 7 o’clock?”

“Why 7-?” y/n stopped, her face becoming increasingly heated as the realization came to her. “A date? You want to take me on a date?”

The school bell rang and Ted stood from the desk, placing a folded piece of paper in front of y/n. “Text me, I’ll come pick you up.”

She watched Ted walk away, then looked down at the paper. On it read a phone a number that she assumed belonged to ted. When she unfolded it, however, was a hand written poem with a title reading, An Ode to y/n.

[nev3rfound]

curled up : b.b

bucky hasn’t seen you all day in the compound, and it turns out you’re sick in bed. so being the loving yet oblivious boyfriend he is, he decides to provide some needed comfort. (1k)

masterlist / permanent taglist (also thank you to whoever organised my taglist!)

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website without being credited, it has not been approved to be shared by me. all rights reserved.)

Walking into the shared living space within the compound, Bucky looks around, only to sigh in disappointment. “Anyone seen Y/n?” He calls out, only to be greeted by a series of heads shaking in response.

“You sure she’s not found someone else to annoy? Like Peter for messing up on his date with MJ?” Sam laughs, oblivious to Peter holding his hand up sheepishly.

“Erm, I’m right here, Mr Wilson.” Peter mutters, and Tony rolls his eyes, motioning to Peter to lower his hand back down.

“I haven’t seen her since last night,” Bucky admits quietly, unaware of Sam raising a brow to Steve. “and she’s not answering her phone either.”

Footsteps echo from behind, and Bucky knows it isn’t you as the footsteps stride through the corridor.

Loki stands tall as he passes Bucky with a smug look on his face. “Missing something, Barnes?” Loki questions playfully, hearing the metal plates in Bucky’s arm whirring as he forms a tight fist. “No need for that, I can assure you.”

Rising to his feet, Thor steps forward much to Loki’s disappointment. “Come on, brother, where is Lady Y/n?” Thor’s voice booms as he stands in front of Loki, recognising the sly look crossing his gaze. “Don’t make me ask you again, Loki.”

“I’d do what he says if I were you,” Tony chimes in from the couch, eyes never leaving his phone despite a potential argument brewing between a super soldier and two literal Gods.

“Well then,” Loki starts, looking between Bucky and Thor. “if you must know, Y/n is sick.”

Scoffing, Bucky crosses his arms over his chest. “She can’t be, she was fine yesterday.” Bucky reasons, but Loki simply looks at him before tearing his eyes away mischievously.

“Buck, she isn’t invincible,” Steve speaks up. “she’s only human.”

“Pitiful really,” Loki mutters, tutting to himself as he moves past the pair. “now if you’ll excuse me, I’m after some needed quiet after having to put up with Y/n sneezing and coughing two rooms down all night. Not exactly the kind of noise I like to hear from someone in the night.”

Turning around, Steve shakes his head as Bucky’s feet remain cemented in place. “Buck, go,” Steve ushers, and Bucky snaps out of his thoughts, rushing through the corridor toward the elevator. “god, young love, hey, Queens?” Steve jokes to Peter who nervously laughs.

“Whatever you say, Mr Rogers.” Peter mumbles, hoping by some miracle the ground will swallow him whole. *

Hovering outside of your door, Bucky can hear your dry coughs and faint swears leaving your lips.

“Hey, doll?” Bucky knocks on the door before opening it, revealing the room drowned in darkness; and at least twelve packets of empty tissues discarded across the floor.

“Bucky?” You speak up, sounding nasally. “I thought I told Loki I didn’t want anyone coming in here.” You add in defeat as you sink your head back down into your pillows, unaware of Bucky’s smile fading.

Closing the bedroom door behind him, Bucky creeps over toward you until he’s perching on the edge of your bed. Despite it being close to pitch black, a slither of light peeks through the blinds and Bucky can see your eyes are closed, but brows remain furrowed together.

“You didn’t want me to come check on you?” Bucky tries to hide the defeatist tone in his voice, but you open your eyes and reach out sleepily, flinging your hand on his.

“No, no I didn’t mean it like that,” You tiredly whine, and Bucky chuckles under his breath. “I didn’t want anyone getting sick, I’ve got into full quarantine.” You explain before coughing violently, a hoarse noise leaving your lips.

Bucky quickly picks up the glass of water you’re reaching for, and passes it to you. He listens as you gulp it down, a softer cough following before you lie back down.

“Full quarantine or not,” Bucky starts as he rises to his feet, moving around the bed to climb in beside you. “I’m not leaving.”

Feeling the dip in your bed, you roll over as a pair of arms wrap around you gently, lifting your body closer to his.

You hum in content, knowing there’s no use fighting and you don’t exactly have the strength to bother trying.

Resting your head on Bucky’s chest, his metal arm remains wrapped around you whilst his other hand rests on your hair, his fingers attempting to run through the tangled knots.

“Loki didn’t pass my message on, did he?” You suddenly ask, and Bucky pauses. “Stupid God.” You mutter, feeling Bucky’s chest rise and fall softly.

“He is, isn’t he?” Bucky remarks. That’ll show Loki for trying to get between him in and his girl. “Do you want me to get you anything? Like some soup? My Mom always made soup when I got sick as a kid.”

Shaking your head in response, you tug on the duvet, pulling it further over you both. “Can you just tell me a story? I wanna hear more about your family.” You whisper and Bucky tenses beneath you. “I, sorry Bucky, if it’s not something you’re ready to share that’s okay.” You ramble, but Bucky shushes you, returning to running his fingers through your now knotless hair. “I’d happily tell you, doll.” Bucky leans down and kisses the top of your head. “Well, growing up on Sundays,”

It was almost instantaneous that you fell asleep in his arms before Bucky was even able to get into any depth in his story. But it didn’t matter as you peacefully slept in his arms as the occasional snore left your lips.

Smiling to himself, Bucky closes his eyes, wondering how he ever got so lucky to find a girl like you; ill or not, you’re the most precious thing in his life.

t a g l i s t (thank you for the support!) link in my bio and at the top of this piece to add yourself☺️(if your user isn’t tagged, it’s because nothing comes up- sorry!)

@biss-stuff @psychicforest  @lourightm @mywinterwolf   @justsomedreaming​ @stanlux17 @smokeandnailz @supermoonchildbroski @xrosegoldwolfx @courtneychicken @marvelsangels @supraveng @tommy-lee-81 @smilexcaptainx @fandom-princess-forevermore​​ @sarge-barnes-sir @pleasantlysecretdream @decaffeinated–fangirl @howdyherron @kirby-boo @florencxs @eldahae @handmesomecoffee @hi-my-name-is-riley @dev1lbella @thanossexual @alissaginger @sambucky8 @notbrooklynsblog @nikkixostan@cosmiccaptian @adoreyou976 @sarcasticallywitty15 @multi-fandom-princess07 @16boyfriends-and-me @courtneychicken @mackevanstan80 @torchwoodoctor @pleasantlysecretdream@yougottalovefandoms @magicalxdaydream​ @soccer-100000​ @tenaciousperfectionunkown