#Only to get sick from the common flu afterwards

[spiritofpassionfruit]

Dr Ratio's students being all kinds of unhinged to the point it makes Ratio look normal by comparison.

They did not pass his classes through sheer intelelct alone you gotta know that.

[ckret2]

So what would happen if bill got sick with the flu, or common cold? Like he gets sick, and tries to keep going, but is bedridden because of how bad it is, or the pines force him to rest so he doesn’t spread it

Common cold would NOT stop Bill for a single day, he'd just keep going on about his business with a snotty nose and brain fog, unstoppable. Flu WOULD stop him but not until he's either collapsed from exhaustion or losing his lunch. Sleeps for two solid days straight and only sticks his head out from under the covers to rehydrate. Afterwards the bedding has to be burned.

Not only would he not give a single flying hoot about people trying to get him to rest before he wants to rest, but he also would weaponize being ill. He would cough in people's faces and spit in his enemies' food. He's waging a one-man campaign of biological warfare against the town.

However, the fact that I think that's how he'd react doesn't mean I'm gonna write about it. I'm not personally interested in sick fic for sick fic's sake and I don't have any plot plans that would benefit from an illness. At this point the only sickness I intend for Bill to endure is the self-induced sort that comes as a natural consequence of trying to medicate his misery away with booze and smile dip.

[datauthorress]

The Monster in Her Eyes [Chapter 9]

pairing: alucard / original female character / alexander anderson summary: years after the death of integra hellsing, a young woman moves into the hellsing estate to start a new life after events happened in her home country. a new butler has been appointed to take care of the estate, which includes the monsters that have been dormant since integra��s death. but her will states that the new owner of the hellsing estate also owns everything belonging to hellsing, including the vampires that lay within. rating: e

The weekend came and went fairly quickly, causing Shelby to realize that she was going to have to get back to work on her writing. However, by Sunday she had realized and felt that she was a bit under the weather, having woken up with sniffles and breathing issues. She took it easy on Sunday and went to bed early, only to wake up Monday morning with a nasty migraine that caused her to refuse to open her eyes.

“Sir?” she heard a Scottish voice ask from her doorway.

Shelby only groaned in response, keeping the blanket over her eyes.

“Are you still not feeling well, sir?”

“No,” she replied. “My head is killing me; my breathing is worse and everything aches.”

Shelby coughed harshly for a few seconds before she groaned softly again and sniffled.

“I’ll fetch Walter.”

Shelby mumbled to herself, dozing off for a few moments until she felt a hand on her forehead, and she opened her eyes, glancing up at Walter.

“You’re very warm, sir.” Walter spoke. “I’ll make a doctor’s appointment for you. It could be the flu, or another infection going around.”

“Just my luck,” Shelby muttered.

“Hang on,” he said, leaving the room for a few moments before coming back five minutes later. “They were able to get you in for 8:30. Do you have enough strength to get dressed? If not, I can con Anderson into helping you.”

“No, I got it.” Shelby replied.

Walter nodded and left the room to give her privacy. Despite the nasty migraine she had, she managed to power through it to slip on some leggings and a sweater. She slipped on some socks, almost falling over on her face. God, she felt awful. She normally didn’t get sick and when she did, it was usually a nasty infection. She didn’t have to wait long for Walter to come in, followed by Anderson.

“Are you ready to go?” Walter asked.

“Yeah, just need my shoes.” She replied, coughing afterwards.

Anderson lifted her into his arms, and she groaned softly at being moved, but didn’t ask to be put down. She couldn’t walk down the stairs since she was light-headed. Walter slipped her shoes on once they were downstairs and then they drove to the doctor’s clinic, where Walter informed the receptionist, they had arrived.

They only had to wait for about ten minutes before they were called back and Shelby’s weight was taken, weighing about 135 pounds. Once in the office, she relayed her symptoms to the nurse and then again to the doctor, who didn’t seem to be too convinced.

“It just seems like a common cold,” the doctor said.

“I know what a cold feels like, doctor.” Shelby replied, shivering slightly. “And this is not it.”

“Well, I would say just go home and get some rest-,”

“Doctor, if I may interrupt,” Walter said firmly. “You don’t seem to be taking Sir Hellsing’s health seriously. We do realize that her normal doctor had an emergency, but you still need to take her health seriously.”

“Are you by chance pregnant?” the doctor asked.

“I don’t have a fucking uterus!” Shelby shouted. “If you’d even take a look at my medical history, you can see that I had a hysterectomy at 16-years-old!”

“We would like another doctor,” Walter said firmly.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible-,”

“Now!” Both Walter and Anderson said at the same time.

The doctor jumped and nodded before leaving the room quickly. Shelby shuddered and Anderson shrugged off his coat before placing it around her shoulders, making sure she was covered. She thanked him and pulled it around herself tightly.

About a half-hour later, another male doctor came inside and took one look at Shelby before he called for the nurse and immediately ordered a series of tests, to take a few vials of blood and to check for diseases. The doctor apologized for the other doctor’s behavior and assured them that he would be dealt with his inappropriate behavior.

When Shelby’s tests came back, it was revealed that she had caught a nasty upper respiratory infection. “I’ve ordered antibiotics, a steroid and pain medicine to help with the migraines.” The doctor spoke, his voice professional but also concerning. “Take them with water only, no caffeine or alcohol. And get as much rest as you can the next few days. If your symptoms don’t lessen or get worse, don’t hesitate to go to the emergency room.”

“Thank you, doctor.” Walter said, taking the medicine order. “That other doctor needs to learn to take women’s health concerns seriously. He could have been sued for medical malpractice.”

“I will make sure he is disciplined. It’s not the first complaint we’ve gotten about him, but it will definitely be the last.” The doctor nodded. “Please, go home, take your medicine and get plenty of rest Miss Hellsing.”

“Thank you, doctor.” she said hoarsely.

After retrieving her medication from the pharmacy, Walter drove them back to the manor. Anderson took her upstairs to her bedroom and Walter came up soon to give her the medicine she needed to take. She managed to take them down with some water and immediately laid down, managing to get underneath her covers so she could sleep.

“Do you need anything else, sir?” Walter asked.

“Mm-nm,” Shelby replied, shaking her head slightly.

“Very well. One of us will check up on you in an hour to make sure you don’t need anything.” He said with a nod. “Please holler if you need anything, sir.”

“Mph.” was all she said before she fell asleep shortly.

~ ~

Shelby felt herself stirring when she felt the sensation of cool digits smoothing away locks of her hair away from her forehead. She opened her eyes a bit, blinking a few times so she could focus on the youthful features of the vampire before her.

“Good afternoon, master.” he cooed.

“What time is it?” she asked softly.

“Around 4 pm. You slept for quite some time,” Alucard replied.

She really did. She had to pee like crazy though.

Shelby managed to get up long enough to relieve herself before she huddled under the covers once more. Alucard felt her forehead, feeling that she was still warm.

“That feels nice,” she mumbled.

“Are you up for eating, master?” he asked.

“No, because I’ll throw it up.” Shelby answered, knowing that if she ate anything, she would throw it right back up.

“What would you like?”

“Get under the covers with me and let me cuddle you because you’re cooler.”

Alucard grinned before he snuck underneath the covers, getting comfortable on his side before watching as Shelby scooted closer to him, wrapping his lanky frame around her much warmer body.

“Feels nice,” she murmured.

“Go back to sleep, master.” he encouraged.

~ ~

When Shelby woke up again, it was around ten pm and she was absolutely shivering. She was shaking, even underneath three large comforters. Walter had taken her temperature and it revealed that her fever had gone up to 103.

“No hospital,” Shelby muttered.

“But sir – ,”

“No hospital.” Shelby said again, coughing. “I….I just need to sleep.”

Walter sighed. “Alright, but at least take your medicine. You need it.”

Shelby groaned softly, but complied. She took her medicine and then huddled back underneath the covers. Walter left to give her time to sleep, but Alucard was walking in a few minutes later with Anderson in tow.

“m’ fine,” Shelby mumbled.

“Master, you’re literally shaking despite being under three comforters.” Alucard pointed out.

“What’s your point?” she asked tiredly.

“Anderson, why don’t you share your body heat with her?” Alucard suggested, turning to look at the priest.

“I’m not going to get in the bed with Sir Hellsing,” Anderson said with a light scoff.

“Come on, priest. Your body is warmer than mine and she’s clearly shaking,” Alucard said. “It’s not sexual in any way.”

“I don’t care what you do.” Shelby said, shivering.

Anderson sighed, before taking off his shoes and coat, setting them aside near the chair by the window, opening up his clergy jacket and setting that aside as well. Shelby moved aside enough for the priest to slip into bed, which was enough for him with him sitting propped up. After a moment, Shelby maneuvered herself to rest between his thighs, leaning up against the large man’s chest. He was indeed a lot warmer than she thought, even though she had felt his body heat before, but given how much she was shivering, his body heat felt incredibly nice.

Anderson reached over and pulled the covers across her shaking frame, tucking them around her body. Her cheek was resting on his chest and he could feel the warmth of her fever.

“Is that any better, master?” Alucard asked.

“Mmph, yeah…” she mumbled, closing her eyes.

~ ~

It took about six hours for Shelby’s fever to break. Around 4 am, Anderson shifted slightly due to his legs falling asleep. Alucard raised his head, regarding the priest with those red irises of his.

“Why are you looking at me like that, vampire?” he questioned.

“Don’t play stupid with me, priest.” Alucard snarked. “If you really didn’t like our master, you wouldn’t have agreed to do this for her.”

“You’re so very infuriating, beast.” The priest snapped quietly.

“That’s not what you said last week when I sucked you off.”

Anderson glared at him, before scoffing slightly and turning his gaze away. Shelby shifted lightly on his torso, her back nearly falling off of him. He placed a hand on her back and gently pushed her back onto him, to which she mumbled underneath her breath and pulled the covers tighter around her before going still once more, breathing softly.

“Don’t bring that up,” he muttered after a moment.

“You liked it, Anderson.” Alucard cooed, sliding up beside the priest without disturbing Shelby.

Anderson narrowed his eyes at the vampire who was sliding up alongside him, before he leaned up and was grinning at him. He chuckled, bringing a gloved hand up to grasp the side of Anderson’s neck. “You like our master, priest and don’t deny it.”

“It’s not my place to like my boss, Alucard. I swore my loyalty to her.”

“That you did,” Alucard hummed. “A bold move from a Catholic priest.”

Anderson didn’t flinch as the vampire leaned up more, cold breath fanning across his lips. He instinctively closed his eyes as Alucard leaned up further, pressing his lips to the corner of the priest’s mouth, feeling the scrap of his facial hair against smoother flesh.

“Anderson,” Alucard purred against him.

“Not now, vampire.” he replied quietly after a moment. “Not…here,”

Alucard chuckled, his long tongue flicking against the priest’s chin for a moment before he pulled away.

“Soon, my beloved nemesis.” He cooed.

~

Shelby’s eyes scrunched a bit as she woke from what felt like a very deep sleep. She stirred, feeling hard but soft muscle underneath her. She shifted slightly before opening her eyes, causing said muscle to shift underneath her.

“Master?” she heard Alucard call out.

“Yeah,” she mumbled, blinking a few times before turning her gaze to the vampire before her.

“Good morning,” he grinned lightly. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” she replied.

She still felt extremely tired and sore and achy, but at least she wasn’t shaking anymore, and she could tell that her fever had broken. All she wanted was a shower and to go back to sleep for a few more hours. She sat up slowly, realizing she had been lying against Anderson.

“Better, sir?” he asked.

“Yeah, my fever broke.” She nodded with a tired expression, moving her hand up to smooth her locks out of her face. “I need a shower and food. I actually think I can eat.”

“I’ll go down and let Walter know you’re awake,” Anderson said, swinging his leg over her so he didn’t hit her and got up, stretching his sore limbs.

Shelby couldn’t help but let her eyes wander across the expanse of the priest’s back, the powerful muscles that rippled whenever he moved or stretched them. When Anderson started to turn, she quickly tore her gaze away and cleared her throat, noticing the way that Alucard was looking at her with a shit-eating grin and she gave him a warning glare to not say anything.

“Thank you, Anderson.” Shelby said before he left.

“Oh, Master.” Alucard purred.

“Shut it,” she warned.

[perfectveda]

Stay away from flu this season and prevent the spread of cold and cough with these tips.

With the cold and flu season approaching, it's important to take precautions to prevent the spread of these illnesses. Not only can colds and flu be uncomfortable and disruptive to our daily lives, but they can also lead to serious health complications, particularly for those with weakened immune systems or underlying health conditions.

Among the most prevalent respiratory infections are the common cold and the influenza virus. While both are caused by viruses that enter the body through the respiratory system, they are not identical.

Cold and flu viruses are extremely infectious and spread readily from one person to another. Droplets emitted when an infected individual speaks, coughs, or sneezes are a major vector for the propagation of these viruses. That's why it's crucial to take preventative measures, including regularly washing your hands and staying away from sick individuals, so you don't catch these diseases.

People get sick from the common cold and the flu because the viruses weaken the immune system. When the immune system is compromised, viruses have an easier time taking over the body and cause damage. The elderly and those with pre-existing medical issues are more vulnerable to the effects of cold and flu viruses because of their compromised immune systems.

The body's immune response to the virus also causes the symptoms of the common cold and the flu. Inflammation is a protective immunological response that occurs when the body detects a pathogen. Symptoms of this inflammation include a fever, stuffy nose, and sore throat. Although unpleasant, these signs indicate that your body is doing its best to fight off the illness.

Furthermore, several predisposing variables can increase an individual's vulnerability to respiratory viruses such as the common cold and the influenza. Some people are more vulnerable to illness than others because of factors like smoking, a compromised immune system, or environmental pollution. Quitting smoking, starting an exercise routine, and limiting your exposure to environmental contaminants are all great ways to lower your risk.

 Here are some tips for staying healthy and preventing the spread of cold and cough this season:

Wash your hands frequently: One of the most effective ways to prevent the spread of cold and flu is to wash your hands regularly with soap and water for at least 20 seconds. Be sure to wash your hands after using the bathroom, before eating, and after coming into contact with someone who is sick.

Avoid close contact with sick individuals: If you know someone who is sick with a cold or flu, try to keep your distance. Avoid shaking hands or hugging, and stay at least six feet away from anyone who is coughing or sneezing.

Cover your mouth and nose: When coughing or sneezing, cover your mouth and nose with a tissue or the crook of your elbow to prevent the spread of germs. Dispose of used tissues immediately and wash your hands afterwards.

Stay home if you're sick: If you're feeling unwell, stay home from work or school to avoid spreading your illness to others. Rest and take care of yourself to speed up your recovery.

Clean and disinfect frequently touched surfaces: Germs can linger on surfaces like doorknobs, keyboards, and countertops. Regularly clean and disinfect these surfaces to prevent the spread of germs.

Get vaccinated: Getting vaccinated against the flu can help protect you from getting sick and prevent the spread of the virus to others. Consult with your healthcare provider to determine if you should get vaccinated.

Boost your immune system: A healthy immune system can help fight off cold and flu viruses. Get plenty of rest, eat a healthy diet rich in fruits and vegetables, and stay hydrated by drinking plenty of water.

Medication: There are several over-the-counter medications that can be taken to relieve the symptoms of cold and flu, medicines such as Maharshi Chyavana Sinacure, Fevril and Algirex.

By following these tips, you can reduce your risk of getting sick and prevent the spread of cold and cough viruses to others. Stay healthy and stay safe this cold and flu season!

[1kook]

youtube & use lube

part 7 of my netflix and chill collection!

summary: You can’t believe this is Jungkook’s preferred sick day treatment; YouTube, cuddles, and an ugly amount of lube.  warnings: smut in the forms of nipple play, handjobs, spit kink, face riding, unprotected, flavored warming lube, riding, praise kink, soft femdom, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, tit sucking, more jk has an impreg kink, oh and this is all subby kook rating: mature (18+) miscellaneous: domesticity baby!! fluff, soft scenes /.\, jk is sick:((, doyeon is A Doctor, yn sees an opportunity and she grabs it, surprise ending <3  word count: 8.7k  

notes: finally…. 7 parts later and we get ~✨💓sub kook💓✨~ this was honestly my fave to write I think because I was obSESSEDDD with his softness and yn leading hehe /.\ also yeah we time jumped 6 months bc uhmmm 😎 story progression also here’s [ THE KOOK U SHOULD IMAGINE FOR THIS 😡 ] also if see a typo ummm no u didn't .

let me know what u think! a simple ask goes a long way <3

Despite what past experiences may dictate, Jungkook’s body is actually quite resilient. It’s due in part to his obnoxiously healthy lifestyle; avocado breakfasts, gym rat tendencies, and a normal person’s circadian rhythm (you could never relate). He lives the life health professionals can only dream of writing down in their notes, so careful of his well-being that it’s almost annoying. Of all the habits you help him break, the rituals he sometimes forgets, his health is never one and it’s actually one he ropes you into quite often. The ladder accident last summer had truly been an odd occurrence, and for a while after, you doubt anything else will ever happen to him. 

And then winter comes. 

Now, Jungkook, with all his superior bodily systems and strict lifestyle, is still not immune to the common cold. So when he comes down with a stuffy nose, a saggy frame, you’re not too surprised. It’s right after New Year’s, which you had spent it at one of Taehyung’s classic overcrowded parties this year, shivering on a rooftop as he kissed you silly under the fireworks, so one of you was bound to get sick. And you were sick for Halloween, so it’s only the universe’s way of leveling the playing field when he gets sick after New Years. 

What does surprise you is when he doesn’t bounce back right away. Usually, Jungkook’s high caliber immune system has him in tip top shape about two days later. But this time around, it takes a while. In fact, it takes longer than usual, and you don’t realize until you’re coming over on a Friday night, met with an unusual silence at the Jeon household. 

As you slowly grew accustomed to your life out of school, you and Jungkook accepted that you didn’t really have time to be glued to each other’s hips at all hours of the day. It was only natural that sometimes you had too much work, were too tired, or were just not in the mood to visit each other. That was fine, and you’ve come to quite appreciate this new routine, because it only made your heart flutter faster than before when you did see him next. You don’t have to see each other everyday, and that was fine; it was part of growing up together (and growing old together, your sappy heart says).

But today, this separation ends up being your downfall. Jungkook first showed signs of a cold on Monday, and now it was Friday and you hadn’t heard from him in two days. You’re beginning to suspect he’s come down with something severe— maybe that strain of the flu that he forgot to get vaccinated for this year —or even worse, dead.

Luckily, Jungkook isn’t dead, just sadly slumped across the end of his bed, nose a bright red and hair a tangled mess. “Oh no,” you frown, but there’s not an ounce of distress in your voice, because boy, was he cute. 

He groans at the sight of you. “Don’t look at me,” he whimpers, hands fisting the sheets. “I’m ugly.”

You bite down on a smile, hang your bag on the hook behind his bedroom door. He’s barely making an effort to stay on the bed, clinging to the side with such powerless hands. “Absolutely hideous,” you play along, arms wrapping around his middle. Registering your touch, your support, he immediately releases what little grip he had and almost sends the two of you tumbling to the ground. “My poor baby,” you croon, manhandling him back into the comfort of his sheets. 

Perhaps the reason you believed Jungkook was so immune was because, well, he never let you see him sick. 

He was picky about his presentation to the world, always wanting to show his best side. And well, you were in that world. Hell, you were probably the main person he wanted to show off for (not to toot your own horn), so he avidly avoided showing you his unpleasant sides. Even in college, when you had been practically stuck to his side, he had always made a big deal of pushing you away when he was sick, calling off dates and hiding away at his house. 

You sort of knew why. Namjoon had told you once that Jungkook when drunk was the equivalent of a needy, whiny baby. You could attest to that because wine drunk Jungkook and vodka drunk Jungkook were quite the experiences to haul home. And apparently Jungkook when sick was more or less the same. He was all doe eyes and pouty lips, magnified by his weakened appearance. He was adorable. 

He’s wearing a lot of layers, but it’s still winter so you don’t think too much of it. Dark long sleeve sweatshirt, the front tucked into some cute brown and black checkered pants. You see it as just some casual at home attire until you reach for his covers, hand brushing his hair from his face, only to find it ice cold. 

“Oh, you’re freezing, honey,” you frown, for real this time. Jungkook whimpers, snuggles into the sheets you pull up to his chin. He dozes off soon after, pouty lips chapped to hell and back. You reach for your chapstick, deciding to get one good use of it on your own lips before contaminating it with Jungkook’s sick germs. Even in his sleep he’s a good boy, rolling his lips together after you’ve applied it on him. 

With Jungkook knocked out, you pad back downstairs and into his kitchen. You can more or less infer that he’s come down with something a little more intense than a cold. His skin was cold, and his nose was runny, but, oddly enough, he wasn’t sweating. You decide to consult a professional. 

“The little gremlin is sick?” Doyeon repeats, a comforting buzz in your ear as you get to work making Jungkook your famous Get Better Soon Soup, idly waiting for the water to boil over. You confirm. Doyeon, legend that she was, accidentally sat an entire physiology class one semester (and passed), so this is the closest you’ll get to a doctor friend. “Hm,” she says, “what’re his symptoms?”

You press your phone between your ear and shoulder, clattering around Jungkook’s kitchen for ingredients. “Runny nose and colder than your ass that one time you passed out in the snow,” you supply. “Oh, but not sweating.”

Doyeon hums over the line, tells you to give her a second, and disappears. “WebMD is saying fever, but you said he’s not sweating?” You confirm again. “Throw him in front of the heater and make him sweat then. He has to burn it out somehow.”

“I can’t do that,” you sigh, pausing when you hear some vague sound from around the house. It’s not Jungkook, so you return to your call. Anyway, Jungkook’s house is, like, perfect. Always warm when need be and always cold as well. You don’t even think he knows what a space heater is. “He’s sick sick. Like, can barely hold himself up sick.” 

She scoffs. “And I care why?” You huff, go to scold her for their weird rivalry, but then she’s moving on. “Babe, just give him some pain relief and call it a day.”

“Fine,” you mumble. “Wait, can you look something else up for me?”

Anyway, Jungkook probably has a fever, except it’s weird because he’s not sweating it out. He wakes up about an hour later, but this time he’s more self aware. He eats his soup and takes the medicine you offer him. Afterwards, he can’t go back to sleep so he huffily asks for his iPad and begins watching some weirdly specific YouTube videos you don’t think you’ve ever seen him watch before. 

You have absolutely no idea what he’s watching, some niche videos of guys in Singapore turning random forest areas into underwater pools? You don’t know. Jungkook seems interested, though, for all of ten minutes until he falls asleep again. 

He’s still cold, poor baby, nose like an ice cube that just won’t melt. You find a heating pad you left over in his closet and place it on his chest. Your thought process is that if his heart, the source of all energy, was warm, then certainly the rest of him will warm up soon enough. Yeah, you missed the last three seasons of Grey’s Anatomy; you were a little rusty. 

So with Jungkook fast asleep and nothing else to do, you assume the age-old, patriarchal task of cleaning around the house. 

His house was usually neat and tidy, mostly as a result of Jungkook’s virgo manifestations, but even those varied. His living room tended to be spotless, but his personal office was a different story. But with him having been out of it this past week, the entire house is littered in tiny garbage that would make Normal Jungkook burst a blood vessel.

There’s a pile of Reese’s wrappers in the downstairs bathroom, on the sink next to his toothbrush. The sight makes you sad, because your poor boy must have been struggling if he was eating candy in the bathroom, where he… uses the bathroom. And then that thought makes you even sadder, thinking back to all the times he was sick and alone, fending for himself out of his weird embarrassment of showing normal body functions. 

You had thought he was cute when you first arrived— he still was —but he was also so weak and frail, bulky muscles rendered useless by whatever bacteria was attacking his body, making him sleepy and in pain for god knows how long. With a resolute nod, you sweep all the wrappers into the trash and decide to do your very best at helping Jungkook get through this sickness and bounce back better than ever. 

Before leaving his bathroom, you ransack his cabinets, deciding he probably keeps most of his antibiotics here. It’s a spot you never really snoop around, because Jungkook always keeps a fully stocked basket in his closet filled with your typical necessities— from conditioner to pads to nail polish remover, he kept it all. And furthermore, you always tended to use his upstairs bathroom anyway, so that’s where your toothbrush and the like were kept. There was really no need for you to ever look through the downstairs bathroom’s cabinet. So the downstairs bathroom cabinet is practically the other side of the world to you, a culture shock so strong it has you plopping down in front of it to thoroughly sift through. 

He’s got a disgusting amount of hair products, none of which you actually think you’ve ever seen him use, and a maniacal amount of tooth stuff. Now, you were quite possibly the biggest proponent for dental care, but this was ridiculous. Four packs of floss on reserve, and about three cases of those dental picks. A whole family pack of toothbrushes and one of those cute little cases for his retainer you’ve seen a few times. 

So overwhelmed with his ungodly stash of dental hygiene utilities, you almost miss the pretty pink tube hidden in the very back corner. 

You’re thinking it’s some makeup primer you left before that he mistook for moisturizer, probably dumped it with all his other things, only to find out you are very, very wrong. 

Sensation Warming Lubricant: NOW! in strawberry flavor 

You blink. 

Lubricant? Jungkook was using lubricant? Strawberry, sensation warming lubricant?!

Somewhere in your mind you had convinced yourself that Jungkook was a simple man, a lotion at his bedside drawer type of man. He had you for the last one and half year, and you two fucked like rabbits, so you hardly doubt he was jacking it alone these days. And even if he was, why on earth was he so specific about the type of lube he uses?

You turn the bottle around, eyes scanning for an expiration date or something of the like, only to find that the copyright symbol was under this current year. The year that had just started, like, two weeks ago. 

Oh, so this was new. 

You turn it over, eyes scanning over the warnings like it’ll tell you something about your boyfriend you don’t know yet, some other hidden secret that he’s maybe held from you. Granted, owning lube isn’t really a big deal, but the fact he’s got it so hidden away (not really, it was casually sitting beside his sunscreen) was definitely something to zero in on. 

Strawberry flavored, you read again, warming, stimulating, edible? Forget his weirdly extensive floss collection, you had stumbled upon something amazing in here, the goddamn Hope Diamond among snooping girlfriend finds. You’ll confront him about this later, you decide, when he’s back to normal and not whiningly calling your name from upstairs. You pocket it for now, tucking it into your cardigan pockets for said later interrogation, and bound up the stairs to him again. 

He’s sitting up in bed like a very angry and confused toddler, brows furrowed sharply like he’s mad. Actually, he just can’t see, the light from the hallway blinding him, so you shut the door and flick on his bedside lamp for him instead. “Hi, honey,” you coo, sitting down on the edge beside him. He’s still waking up, leaning a little too heavily into your palm when you cup his face. “How’re you feeling?”

“Terrible,” he rasps out, but he’s definitely looking better than before. You don’t know if you imagine it, but there’s this slowly accumulating sweat that forms along the base of his neck. “Please don’t leave again,” he says softly, droopy eyes glassy. 

Something shoots straight to your heart— an arrow from Cupid himself! —that makes you stroke his cheek tenderly until his eyelids are fluttering shut again. “I won’t,” you promise, feeling around for his iPad. He doesn’t seem like he’ll fall back asleep, sitting up with more strength than he had that morning. 

You end up climbing behind him, let him be the little spoon you know he secretly craves to be, as he watches his weird YouTube videos again. His body is so warm against yours, but his skin is still so cold. If what Doyeon had said was true, it’s no wonder he’s kept the same sickness all week. The rhythmic sound of machetes hacking at the earth and water trickling through bamboo pipes grows on you, makes you fall into a sense of comfort behind him, arms tracing circles over his chest. 

It’s a mindless habit, one you actually do a lot. Most of the time, it’s when he’s at his desk and stressed out, your masseuse hands making an appearance to soothe the muscles in his neck and chest from being hunched over for so long. Even now, your fingers unconsciously press into the fabric over his pecks, tickle up his sternum until he’s melting against you. 

It takes one quiet whimper from him to let you know exactly how he’s feeling. “Everything alright?” you inquire, halting your movements over his chest. Jungkook nods shakily, head lolling forward. The nape of his neck calls to you, whispers for a kiss that you tenderly bestow upon it. It makes Jungkook jolt, another pretty sound leaving his lips at the press of your warm lips against his sensitive neck. 

“No more,” he mumbles, rolls his head around until it’s resting against your shoulder, giving you a clear view down his chest. You slide your hands back up from where they’d gone stiff just around his ribs, let them palm over his pecs. Jungkook’s hips buck, a minuscule movement you almost miss. 

His heart thunders like the inside of a horse race track beneath your palm, breath picking up just from the simple motion of your hands on his chest. It’s on the fourth circle around his pecs that you feel your pinky briefly catch on something. “Poor thing,” you sigh, running the pad of your pointer finger over the hardened nipple that peaks beneath his sweatshirt. “Is this what was bothering you?” 

A shaky exhale in response, hands tightly clutching at his iPad and beloved YouTube video genre. “N-No,” he denies, but you chance a peak at his face, where his lips are bitten a rosy pink color, its slightly muted sister rushing down his cheeks, over his neck. 

You press the lightest of kisses to the side of his neck, and he shivers. “Need me to take care of you?” you purr, trail your hands down his chest towards where the hem of his sweater sits. You run your finger over it twice, before moving to slip your hand beneath. Your fingers brush along his abs, contracted tightly at your touch, and slowly make their way back up his chest. 

Fingers find his pebbled nipples, a gasp escaping his lips. “Does this feel good?” you ask softly, pinching the swollen nubs between your fingers. Jungkook groans, body arching just the slightest as you rub his nipples, tug and twist them until he’s a whining mess. “Need you to tell me, honey,” you encourage, lips ghosting over his neck. 

The second kiss has him flinching as well, head rapidly turning the other way as you slowly kiss over his neck. “___, please,” he pants, knuckles pale on the sides of the iPad. You're afraid it’ll snap, if not from his grip then from the way he pushes at it, like he’s breaking a wooden board over his knee. It’s still on YouTube, playing another video from the same collection, volume competing with Jungkook’s tiny sounds. 

Pressing your lips to his neck, you kiss along it slowly, reveling in the lovely noises that Jungkook produces the more you rub his nipples, lower body squirming animatedly before you. Your kisses grow wet for a short period, suck purple blossoms across his skin until Jungkook is quivering like a leaf. “E-Enough,” he begs, voice a wobbly mess that is so light and airy. 

You grin, giving his rockhard nipples one last flick before sliding your hands down his chest, over his stomach to toy with the elastic of his pants. He inhales sharply, iPad nearly snapped in half mid video. Ready to play with him some more (and slightly afraid for the future of his tablet), you reach out a hand to move it away, set it off to the side. 

But Jungkook doesn’t release it. In fact, he clings to the damn piece of tech tighter than before. “Hmm?” you murmur, bottom lip brushing against his neck once more. “Not letting go, sweetheart?” 

He shakes his head, soft crown of curls bouncing from the movement. “Can’t, can’t,” he shivers. His knees shift back and forth, move between being casually spread and flush together. Like he’s hiding something, using the iPad and the videos on screen as cover. You tug at his wrist and Jungkook shakes his head again. 

You change tactics, hand sliding around his wrist instead. The other travels up, up, up, comes curling around the base of his neck. Jungkook whimpers, tilts his head back for you cutely at the first brush of your fingers against his Adam’s apple. “Thought you were my good boy?” you ask, eyes zeroed in on the tremble of his lower lip. 

Jungkook exhales shakily, a rather torn expression crossing his features. “I am,” he insists, fingers still tight “I am your good boy.”

You smile, stroking the front of his neck softly as you lean down to press a kiss against his cheek. “You are, aren’t you?” He whimpers. “Then let go, honey,” you murmur, hand on his wrist giving another experimental tug. Still, his grip remains solid. “Jungkook,” you snap, “let go.”

“Y-You’ll laugh,” he cries, yet his grip slowly weakens. It’s with a swift tug that the iPad tumbles to his side, presses against his hip, and shows you the raging hard-on that stirs beneath the front of his cotton pants. Pressed nearly beside your ear, Jungkook shivers. 

Ever so slowly, your hands return to their place around his waist. “Why would I laugh, sweetheart?” you mumble, marveling at the way his cock twitches and jumps beneath his pants before you can even touch it. His shirt is hiked up just above his abs, your hands tenderly stroking over the skin beneath his navel, but it’s got Jungkook writhing. “Hips up for me,” you instruct. 

He shakes even when he pushes himself up, knees wobbling as you slip your hands beneath his waistband and tug them down his thighs. Afterwards, his legs flop forward flatly, spread out with his beautiful swollen cock on display against his hip. 

You trap it at the base and Jungkook mewls, hands fisting the sheets now that his beloved iPad has been snatched away. It’s still playing his videos, interrupting his saccharine moans with corny ads every few minutes. A hand snaps up to join, opposite of yours, until your fingers are entwined around his dick. How romantic, you think, discreetly rolling your hips back against the mattress. “Gonna help me make you cum?” you ask instead, give him a light squeeze that makes him jolt. 

“Uh huh,” he responds, feathery. 

You reward him with a kiss to his cheek, reaching up to brush away the hair that’s begun sticking to his forehead. In the very back of your head you recognize this as being good for his fever, but the rest of you is more concerned with the pretty pout on his lips. “Hold tight for me,” you smile, releasing his cock to press your finger against the very tip of his cock where a pearly drop of precum has begun forming. “So pretty, Jungkookie,” you praise, teasing the length of your finger over the slit on his head. It has that juicy droplet coating your finger, gliding seamlessly over and over again. 

The simple touch makes him buck, has him blindly wrapping an arm around your bent knee that was pressed to his side this whole time. He squeezes around you rather weakly, the majority of his strength going to holding his cock tightly like you’d instructed. He’s such a good boy for you, trying his absolute best, even when you’re very obviously overwhelming him. 

You roll the flat side of your finger over him, his mushroom tip slowly growing more and more slick as he produces more precum. It’s shiny, fits perfectly between your clasped fingers when you squeeze around his head. Jungkook’s breath turns labored. 

He’s always so well kept down there, skin so smooth and free of hairs, and you know he does it because he wants to impress you. “So pretty, baby,” you hum, acknowledging his efforts. Your praise makes Jungkook moan, suddenly fucking up into his hand. It’s accidental, because he hisses at the drag of his dry palm around his relatively dry dick immediately. 

“Hurts, hurts,” he whimpers prettily, lower lip caught between his teeth. 

You frown, slide your wet fingers down the base of his cock until they’re wrapping around his and Jungkook’s little gasps even out. “I’m sorry, baby, you gotta be patie—“

Something presses against your hip, something distinctly hard that you had hastily picked up from his bathroom cabinet earlier, and a whole new door opens before your eyes. “Hold still for me,” you tell him quickly as you release your grip around his cock. Jungkook wails at the separation, but you’re more concerned with wrestling the tube out of your pocket with one hand. It’s heavy in your palm, turning over until that big fat label on front comes into view again. 

Jungkook explodes at the sight. “Wh— Where did you find that?” he stammers, cheeks ablaze. “I-I don’t know where that came fro—“

You ignore him, hold the bottle of lubricant over his stomach as you uncap it, a gooey pink substance spilling over into your hands the moment the lid pops off. Jungkook is still rambling away about the origins of the bottle, as if you care. You set the bottle on his tummy, the cold plastic makes him shiver. But you know what’s not cold? The warming lube in your hands that only takes three rubs of your palms to activate. 

You latch down like a crazed animal around his cock. With both your hands fighting to grip at his cock, you’re pressed closer against Jungkook, lips against the shell of his ear. 

The initial touch makes him sob, back arching and legs kicking at the sheets piled at the foot of the bed as your slick hands track the lube over his dick. “No!” he cries, hands wildly reaching out to grab whatever he can as you slowly get to work pulling him off. “I-I can’t, __, I can’t.”

“You can,” you coo, watching the translucent pink substance coat his cock, join his sticky precum. 

Maybe you get overexcited in your efforts, forget Jungkook is the way he is right now because he was still a little weak from his fever, but you go crazy on stroking his cock. One hand lingers around the base, squeezing and rolling over his balls, palm pressing against the hardened sac and squeezing there too. The other focuses at the tip, does most of the actual stroking over his cock. His head is leaking precum now, every stroke and squeeze making him shudder and push out another drop, until it’s mixing with the lube to form a sticky sweet substance that you wanna lick at so bad. 

So you do. 

You release one hand to curiously bring it up to your face, turning it over and around as you examine the stickiness on your fingers, the fat drop that unintentionally drips onto the front of Jungkook’s sweatshirt. He sobs at the sight of your lips around your fingers, squirms and bucks into the hand still on his cock until he’s embarrassingly coming. “I’m sorry,” he wails, hands fisting the sheets, fucking into your hand like a virgin. “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to.” 

You draw your hand away, watching in slow motion the cum that just spurted from his cock come dribbling down the slowly softening length now. “Oh, sweetheart,” you croon, hands on his tummy. The bottle of lube slips to the side, meets the still playing iPad at his hip. It’s sticky and gross to touch him like this, especially when you know Jungkook hates being unnecessarily dirty, but you can’t stop yourself from softly caressing him, soothe him after such a hard-hitting orgasm. 

Honestly you had thought he would hold up a little more, let you get in a few more strokes, but he must’ve been more sensitive than you thought. “I’m sorry,” he cries again, head lolling to the side to meet your gaze with watery eyes. 

You tilt his head to the side, angle him just right for you to bestow your first kiss of the night against his little pout. Jungkook hiccups, melts against you as you slowly guide him through the kiss. He’s sloppy and shy, moves nothing like your normal Jungkook, and that fact alone has you slipping your tongue past his lips. He doesn’t fight back, just lets you play with him and sighs all delicately against your mouth. 

There’s something about this, his soft and submissive attitude, that has you pulling away to look at him. Big brown eyes, glassed over with unshed tears, and plush lips that call your name. And yet. 

“Open,” you murmur, hypnotized by the way that tiny mouth moves. 

“Huh?” Jungkook flushes, but he’s so good, he’s your good boy, and does so anyway. Lower lip quivers as he parts his lips, stuttering exhales creeping through as you purse your lips, let the saliva collect on your mouth, before rudely spitting into his. He flinches, whimpers softly, and swallows. He looks at you with these expectant eyes, like he wants to hear how much of a good boy he is, so you do exactly that. 

You brush his bangs away lovingly. “Aren’t you just so good for me,” you purr, revel in the way his eyes flutter shut at your touch, like you could never hurt him, and you won’t. 

As sweet as the moment is, there’s a raging fire in your core begging to be stroked, and your hyperfixation on Jungkook’s mouth lets you know there’s only one way to chase the feeling. “Up,” you tell Jungkook, who whimpers sadly when you finally escape from behind him. 

But you don’t get too far, settling beside him on the bed until you’re looking at the damage you’ve caused from the front. His skin is sticky in some places, pink sheen of the lube decorating him from your incessant touching. Pants around his thighs, shirt against his chest. His face is flushed, all the way down to his chest and up to his ears, so rosy and pink all for you. He shies away under your gaze, drops his head to his chin bashfully. 

You grin, shuffle forward to turn those pretty eyes back towards you. “Messy little thing,” you tease, slotting your mouths together again. Jungkook moans this time, lazily kissing you back. His lips move in slow motion, trembling hands reaching for your face to cup, your name falling from his lips when you pull away slightly. “Need you to help me out now,” you murmur, hand on his jaw. “Can you do that, honey?” Jungkook nods hurriedly, eyes foggy and on your mouth. “Lay back.”

He does so, rushes to lay against the pillows until he’s flat on his back. You get to work on your clothes, shed your cardigan and languidly tug your top over your head in the way you know makes your breasts bounce. Beneath you, Jungkook whines at the sight. “You too,” you remind him, wiggling out of your jeans. At your instruction, he begins fumbling with his clothes, pants and underwear haphazardly thrown over the edge of the bed. 

By the time you’re naked, you’re met with a rather amusing sight. 

In his haste to take his clothing off, Jungkook seems to have gotten himself tangled in his long sleeves, shirt awkwardly bunched up around his wrists and twisted over some. You chuckle. “Help please,” he asks so politely, shaking his arms back and forth above his head. But you’re genuinely confused as to what he did, because one of the sleeves wraps around the other, pins the bulk of the fabric to his skin, and then the other wraps around that. A mess you don’t bother dissecting, simply climbing over him. He complains, of course, soft huffs you wave off. 

“Don’t need them anyway,” you shrug, can’t help the lovesick look you send him when you brush his hair away for the umpteenth time. Jungkook leans into the touch sweetly, rosy cheek pressed against your palm. “Lemme see your pretty little tongue,” you order, pussy clenching when he does as told and rolls his tongue out for you, tip pressed against his bottom lip. “Good boy.”

A soft whimper, and then you’re shuffling over him, pretty doe eyes watching with amazement when you finally hover over his face. “For me?” he asks so softly, so sweetly. 

It’s a question you’ve heard him utter countless times before in similar settings, always with a cocky grin and mean eyes, ready to send you to hell and back with his tongue or his cock. But it’s different now, big shiny eyes looking at you like you’re the greatest thing to ever happen in his life, so pliant and demure beneath your touch like he lived to serve you. 

“All for you,” you assure him, get comfortable, and slowly lower your pussy over his face. His eyes flutter shut immediately, pink tongue ready for you by the time your dripping cunt nears his face. 

You can’t help the moan that tears itself from your throat, a soft cry as he begins lapping against your folds. He’s so tender, so careful. It drives you crazy. Hands above his head squirming as you slowly grind your pussy over his face, more mindful than usual because he was so delicate tonight, like a baby bird that shivers with the simplest touch. 

His tongue is smooth, circles around your clit. He nudges your bundle of nerves back and forth a few times, sends an initial wave of tingles down your spine, before taking it between puckered lips. His slurps it into his mouth, where it’s so hot and wet, it makes your grind stutter. “Oh,” you pant, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair. “P-Perfect,” you mumble. 

The praise makes his features twist up cutely, mouth desperate to get more out of you. “You like that?” you gasp, holding his head still as he runs his tongue along your folds. Jungkook nods, eyes glazed over as he messily begins eating you out. “Like when I tell you you’re a good boy, Jungkookie?” 

He lets out a broken whine, the vibrations shooting up your spine and making you shiver. Tongue pressed in at your entrance, prods gently like it’s his first time (it’s not) and he’s gauging your reactions. “Oh baby,” you shudder, fingers tightening in his curls. 

He looks like an angel beneath you like this, halo of curls artfully splayed across the sheets, arms knotted above his head. Big pretty eyes that make you want to lay down and be his bitch instead, their power just so strong even when he’s whining and whimpering against your pussy like this. His tongue dips into your cunt, makes you buck against him by accident. “I’m sorry, angel,” you breathe, so caught up in your thoughts that the name just slips. It makes Jungkook’s cheeks flush a pretty pink, arms tug at their makeshift restraints. But his brain is scattered, torn between releasing himself, eating you out, and being shy. 

He settles soon enough, ends up just sticking his tongue out flat for you to grind against, using the grip in his curls to drag your pussy over his face. His scalp feels warm, sweat clinging to his hairline. He sighs endearingly against you, and it’s that final puff of warm air against your folds that has you coming, cum dripping over his lips and chin sinfully. 

When you finish, you quickly get off of him, lay down beside him. Jungkook is panting softly, tongue peeking out to taste the cum that splattered against the corner of his lips. “You were so good for me,” you praise, idly dragging your finger across his skin, collecting your cum on the tip. 

Jungkook looks at you with a heavy gaze, knotted wrists slowly returning to rest over his abdomen. “Can you… Can you call me that again?” he asks hesitantly, so shy and polite. 

“Hm?” you ask. “Angel?” His lips part, an awfully aroused look crossing his features. You smile, press your cum loaded finger against his lips and he opens, sucks around your finger and moans. “My pretty little angel,” you purr, slowly thrusting your finger in and out of his mouth. Before you can stop yourself, you’re leaning over to kiss him again, swallowing his cries in your desperate need to taste yourself on his tongue. Jungkook is more active this time around, daringly challenging your tongue with his before ultimately giving up, languidly following the pace you set for the kiss. You pull off with a pop, leave him dazed and trailing after your mouth cutely. 

You pat his cheek once, offer him a tender smile, before moving to get up and clean up. Jungkook whines at your departure, and it’s only once you’ve sat up that you realize why. 

Half hard cock at his hip, fattening slowly but surely. Instantly, it’s like the post-orgasm fatigue is yanked away, pussy throbbing at the sight of your angel and his cock, swelling from eating you out and kissing. He was too good to be true. 

“Oh, you poor thing,” you sigh dramatically, shifting onto your knees at his hip to look at him. Something pokes your leg; it’s the stupid iPad playing his dorky YouTube videos that you click off and chuck to the other side of the bed. You had had enough of that by now. 

He’s not at full mast yet, and he’s not getting there quick enough for your liking. So you take matters into your own hands. (Besides, what was stopping you tonight? Certainly not this soft, pliant Jungkook.)

Kneeling between his legs, you reach for the forgotten bottle of lube, squirt a fat glob into your hands, then decide that isn’t enough and squirt it directly onto your chest. Jungkook watches with wide eyes, lower lip caught between his teeth. “What— What’re you doing?” he stammers, can’t even sit up with his hands held together. “__, y-you don’t have—“

Squeezing your breasts together, you slip his cock between the crevice, watch as his angry head comes out on the other side so easily, so slippery. Oh, this was gonna be post-work, shower-time, spank bank material for months. 

Jungkook sobs, loud and unfiltered at the sight, expression torn as he watches you slowly work your tightened breasts down his quickly hardening member. “T-Too much, too much,” he cries, squirming and bucking beneath you. “I-I’ll come—” 

“Don’t,” you snap, stilling your moments to flick your eyes back to him. His head is rolled back, jaw strained, but when he manages to lift it up and look down at you, there’s tears that streak his cute face, trails that glisten when the lowlight of the lamp hits him just right. “Don’t fucking come yet, Jungkook.”

He sniffles weakly, more tears spilling from his eyes. “But I— it feels,” he blubbers, knotted hands reaching down for the base of his cock. You slap it away. “___, please,” he wails, face flushed from all his conflicting emotions. 

Ignoring his cries, you get back to work, moving your upper body to and fro to simulate the thrusting motion he is too weak to do himself. He whimpers pitifully, more tears leaving his eyes when you lean down and spit on the head of his cock when it emerges next, make it join the rest of the ungodly fluids painting your chest. Honestly, you’re certain it’s that damned strawberry flavored, sensation warming, edible lube that makes this experience so enjoyable, so mind-blowing. 

Jungkook seems to agree, stuttering out a messy whine. “Feels weird,” he snivels, only to be cut off when you release him from in between your tits. Immediately, he begins lamenting the loss. 

Slowly, you ease him back in. You’re beginning to understand the intensity of that damned warming lube, because with each glide of his cock between your breasts, it’s like a tingle of nerves sparks within you, insides folding in on themselves as they channel all their energy to that one area of hastily spread lube. It feels so good and wet and messy, Jungkook’s whiny sniffles only fueling the experience. His cock twitches dangerously, and you flash him a glare. “Jungkook,” you warn. 

“I’m sorry,” he weeps, thrashing back and forth as if that makes it any easier. “I just— I want,” he chokes, hips bucking into the suction you’ve created between your boobs. Tentatively, you stick your tongue out, let his tip brush against it on the next thrust. Jungkook curses, a feral groan escaping his lips. “Wanna fuck,” he seethes, “now.”

It’s but a slight peek into his regular personality, his normal mannerisms. But something about it now annoys you. In fact, it pisses you off, seeing him be so complacent and sweet just to try and overthrow you at the last second. And it’s with this same train of thought that you release him, climb over him like a crazed sex demon, and press your hand to his throat. 

“You're supposed to be good,” you spit, scowl turned on him and it immediately has Jungkook drawing back with his tail tucked, falling into line as he should. “You’re supposed to be my angel tonight, remember?”

Jungkook nods, big round eyes looking at you like you’re insane, but the cock that presses against your ass tells you that he likes it. “I-I’m sorry,” he stutters, shrinking back into the mattress. Sticky hands around his throat, probably make him warm and tingly, but all you can think about is those pretty eyes. Sensing your wavering emotions, he takes advantage by tilting his chin forward for you cutely, pink lips trembling as he silently asks for a kiss. 

You release him.

“Stupid angel,” you huff, mouth against his. “Gonna make me mad if you don’t act right,” you remind him, pushing his sweaty curls away from his face. He whimpers against your mouth, let’s you play with his hair as you calm down. He’s a blushing mess beneath you, every inch of him flushed and warm and sweaty. 

You shift back and are met with his still rock hard member against your ass. You touch him appreciatively, reaching back to stroke him with a half-assed grip. It makes him moan nonetheless, pulling away from your lips to mewl against your shoulder. “Wanna fuck?” you hum, curling your hand over the tip like he likes, watching his head roll back against his pillow at the sensation. Jungkook groans, doesn’t seem to hear you now. You try again. “Wanna fuck my pussy, baby?”

“Yes,” he gasps this time, jolts when you press the tip of your finger against the slit on his head, plug his cock from releasing any more precum. “Please, please,” he begs, the hands on his chest straining against the shirt he still hasn’t managed to shake off. 

One last kiss is delivered to him, a chaste one against his pout that makes him whine. “Whatever you want,” you purr, line him up. 

Your hands are still sticky with the lube and so is his cock. Everything is sticky; his cock, you folds, your tits, his neck. It’s a big sticky, slippery mess, but you can’t even be annoyed because everything feels so good. Your tits tingle from whatever they put in that damn lube, nipples rock hard and extra swollen today, like if you don’t touch them you’ll die. You sink back into Jungkook’s throbbing cock, and the second his cock spreads the lube along your walls, you’re jolting because it just feels so damn good. 

You can’t believe this is Jungkook’s preferred sick day treatment; YouTube, cuddles, and an ugly amount of lube. 

His cock pushes past your folds, fits snugly inside of you just like it belongs. It still feels like the first time, feels like your first day where he was so perfect and sweet. Part of you wonders what would have become of you two if he had reacted like this that day, soft and whiny, when you first prepositioned him. Maybe the sexual aspect of your relationship would be entirely different today, maybe you’d be one the always leading. 

But… you’re not sure if you’d want that. Leading is fun— hell, you’re certain this moment will be what you get engraved on your tombstone —but you were a pillow princess at heart with occasional dominant tendencies. You drool over this moment now, but if he asks for this again tomorrow you might actually bend over and die. It was a lot of work, keeping the energy going, and you find yourself having this newfound sense of respect for Jungkook as his cock slips past your folds. 

Anyway, when you sit on his cock, fingers teasingly tightening around his throat, Jungkook’s eyes are weirdly focused on your tits. He’s been doing that a lot lately, losing his mind by just staring at your tits. On some occasions he puts them in his mouth, gets possessed by some titty loving monster and sucks on them until you’re trembling. It’s fine because it’s quite frankly a huge ego boost, but something him now makes you want to pick at him for it. 

“They’re yours to taste, angel,” you hum, slowly rolling your hips over his fat cock. Jungkook whimpers, softly ruts up into your heat the next time you press down. “Tell me what you want,” you exhale, a breathy moan. 

He doesn’t say anything, just drops his mouth open for you with a trembling lower lip. Tongue peeks out, eyes glazed over in his lust, looking every bit like those hentai ads he hates so much. But you fulfill his wishes, help him sit up until he’s flush against your chest. His awkwardly bound hands get squished in the middle, and he says, “m-my hands...” 

“I’ve got you,” you soothe, undo his self-made restraints and toss them to the side. Immediately, he’s wrapping his arms around you, pulling you flush against him to latch his lips around your breasts. “S-Slow down,” you whine, hands on his biceps as he sucks your tit into his mouth, twirls his tongue around your nipple. He’s good with his tongue even when he’s sick. 

He pulls off with a pop, ragged breathing only making you more sensitive as it fans over the thin layer of saliva he leaves on your tits. “Tastes like strawberries,” he groans wondrously, head against your chest. You use the lull to get back to fucking yourself on him, but Jungkook’s got other plans. He rolls the two of you over, pins you beneath him with his hot and sweaty body. “I’m sorry,” he moans as he begins jackhammering his thrusts into you. 

Your back arches, legs thrown around his waist as the sudden change of events. “Fffuck,” you heave, “harder, angel— gotta fuck like you mean it.”

Jungkook shudders, hands looped around the small of your back. His cock rams into you over and over, each glide of it against the walls of your pussy making you unravel in his arms. His lips latch around your other boob, suck and suck like he’s expecting something to come out.

That’s when it hits you. 

“N-Nothing there,” you tell him, arms wrapped around his shoulders. His lashes are wet, eyes pinching tighter at your reminder. He pulls away almost to protest, but then you’re guiding him up to your face, hot breath mingling with yours. “Nothing there because you haven’t given me a baby yet,” you murmur darkly, watch the emotions flood his features as you tap into that taboo kink of his. 

He chokes, grinds his cock into you and holds it there. “I-I didn’t,” he sniffs, “we never— you never said,” he whines, “...you wanted one.”

You cup his face in his hands, feel slightly mean for the pride you get from his tear stricken appearance. “I do,” you purr, lazily kissing him. “Want one if it’s from you. Don’t you?” He nods like an antsy puppy, quivering against you as he slowly and shallowly ruts into you. “Don’t you wanna see me like that, angel?” you egg on, hands looping behind his neck, idly playing with stray waves and curls. “Tummy so big and swollen because you did something bad, because you couldn’t pull out.” 

Jungkook sobs, pulls you impossibly closer until the head of his cock is missing your cervix repeatedly. One of your legs is pressed nearly to your chest, hip tight from the force in which he holds you. “I-I want,” he agrees, more tears spilling down his cheeks. 

You smirk evilly, kissing the corner of his mouth gently as he slowly picks up the pace of his thrusts. “Then fuck me hard, Jungkookie,” you demand, “fuck me full of your cum.”

Jungkook nods with a sniffle against your shoulder, fingers tightening against your skin as he slowly but surely begins nailing you into the mattress. He’s a good boy, always, because he does exactly what you tell him to. Uses those bulky muscles to hold you down, makes it impossible for you to move as he pistons his hips, cock sheathing itself inside your cunt. 

Every drag makes you unconsciously clench, the raw feeling consuming your thoughts. His cock is so big and wet today, certainly due to that stupid lube from beneath his cabinet. Your entire pussy feels like it’s on ecstasy, stupidly geeked up by that lube, and you’re sure Jungkook’s cock feels the same. It makes the glide so much better, so much easier, each ram of his cock feeling so easy. “Oh, fuck,” you whimper, nails digging down his spine. Jungkook is a sobbing, sniffling mess against the crook of your neck, absolute gibberish falling from his lips. 

But you’re no better, tongue seemingly set on a chaotic rampage to validate every single one of his fantasies. “Gonna fuck me while I’m pregnant?” you pant against his ear, fingers tugging at his hair. He doesn’t offer more than a strained cry, thrusts momentarily falling out of rhythm. “You would like that, huh? Fucking me when you’re not supposed to. You’re so bad, Kook-ah,”  you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Only pretend to be an angel but really you’re just a dirty, little pervert.” 

He wails loudly, slams his hips so hard into you that it makes you sob as well. “N-No,” he blubbers, tears against your skin. “I’m good— I’m a good boy,” he stresses, fingers bruising their prints into your skin. 

He presses so close, cock practically making your stomach bulge, but neither of you see. “Dirty angel,” you spit, yank his hair back roughly until he’s forced to look at you with that watery gaze. “So horny you’re willing to get me pregnant.”

Jungkook cries out, snaps his cock into you like he’s trying to break you in half. “No,” he heaves, tears dripping down his cheeks and onto yours. “I-I-I’d do it right,” he defends weakly, hips losing their demonic pace as his orgasm sneaks up on him. “Ma— Marry first… then, b— ba— bab—“

You swallow his words with your lips, kiss him like you’re on the verge of death in a desperate attempt to hide your tears from him. They paint your cheeks in stark strokes, trail down your skin and make everything blurry, but so does your orgasm. 

You come first, heart and body trembling at his unexpectedly sweet words, as you become a whimpering, teary mess beneath him. Jungkook follows, cries out your name one last time as he busts inside of you. 

Sticky and gross, he falls onto the pillow beside you. Poor baby is so tired, curls covering half of his face, but lips cutely puckered against the pillow. He’s sweaty as hell though, which you now vaguely remember was your original goal with all of this so you count this as a success. 

You think he’s fallen asleep, sitting up slowly and reaching for that t-shirt that bound him together earlier to clean up. He shudders when you run it against his skin, obviously still overwhelmed. You shift around the bed in search of today’s MVP. “Where’s the lube?” you mutter to yourself. 

Jungkook groans. “YouTube?” he asks, voice dry as all hell. 

“No, honey, the lube we used,” you respond, running your hands over the sheets for any signs of the pink bottle. 

“Want YouTube,” he mumbles, lets you swaddle him up in the blanket again. You roll your eyes and reach for the forgotten iPad that had long since tumbled to the floor. When it turns on, that same video from before is on pause so you don’t bother changing it as you hand it back to Jungkook. “Nice,” he murmurs, “underground water slide.”

You snort. “Weirdo.” He glares cutely, eyes barely open at this point. “Watch your YouTube.”

“Use your lube,” he sasses back softly, nonsensically, and then rather anticlimactically passes out. 

There’s something soft in your chest, something so big and overwhelming, that has you bending over his sleeping figure, mouth brushing against his. “Hurry and get better, angel,” you whisper, wish on it with all your heart. 

 To no one’s surprise, you get sick two days later. Doyeon laughs and laughs for hours about it, tells you that’s what you get for using sex as medicine. But Jungkook’s back to normal, which means he stays over and coddles you to death. 

“Hurry and get better,” he says, spoon feeding you your famous Get Better Soon Soup that you passed on to him. “I have a question to ask you.”

There’s a little black box in his downstairs bathroom cabinet that you swear you’ve never seen, but Jungkook knows you’re lying. 

It fits perfectly. 

epilogue

She scoffs. “And I care why?” You huff, go to scold her for their weird rivalry, but then she’s moving on. “Babe, just give him some pain relief and call it a day.”

“Fine,” you mumble. “Wait, can you look something else up for me?”

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

Taking a Sick Day - happyaspie

No Archive Warnings Apply || Rated G || Word Count 4932 || May Parker & Peter Parker & Tony stark, Sick Peter Parker, College Student Peter Parker, fluff and hurt/comfort

Part 15 of Sicktember 2021-2022 series

Summary: It's Peter's first year in college and his first solo experience in taking care of himself, fully and completely, while sick. He's not sure what to do or how to properly handle the situation. Especially since he'd enhanced. So, he consults his two favorite adults.

Sicktember 2022 Prompts:

-Common Cold/Flu -Care Package -Taking a Sick Day -Vapor Rub

[Except Below the Cut]

Peter’s day had started out in a normal enough manner. He woke up to his alarm and hit the snooze button no less than three times before rolling out of bed. Then he grabbed a pair of pants out the pile on the floor and gave them a hesitant sniff. Once he’d deemed them fresh enough, he threw them on and ran across the campus towards the dining hall for breakfast. There were all of the ordinary choices; barely toasted bread, overcooked eggs and undercooked bacon. He grabbed a plate and sat down at his usual table to scarf it down, realizing partway through that he wasn’t all that hungry. Internally, he shrugged and disposed of his trash. He had a lecture starting soon and he really wanted to go over some of his notes before it started.

From there, Peter’s day started to go downhill. The lecture hall seemed cooler than usual and he found himself spending more time rubbing his hands up and down his arms than taking notes. But he figured that was fine. He understood what was being explained and was already planning to attend a study group later in the day. There was bound to be someone there who could help him get caught up.

After class he wandered into the courtyard and lay in the grass under one of the numerous trees. The sun was warm and white noise created by the passing students was nice. Peter sighed tiredly as he propped a book up against one of the larger roots and began to read. He only got through about four pages before his eyes began to droop. He wanted to say that was expected, but the truth was he’d gotten much better about going to bed at a reasonable hour. He tried to think back to what time he’d gone to sleep the night before and came up blank. Idly, he rolled onto his back and cleared his throat when it began to itch. When the sensation lingered, he cleared his throat again, followed by a few experimental coughs. Eventually, he sat up and buried his head knees. It was then he realized that he just felt off in general.

The remainder of the day passed slowly. He ate a mediocre cafeteria lunch, then went back to his dorm to plug in his phone and take a quick power nap. Next on the agenda was the study group, and he managed to get there right one time. Though, outside of filling in his notes, he didn’t actually get anything done. He debated going back to his dorm afterward but wasn’t sure he’d want to reemerge for dinner if he did. So, he made himself comfortable in a corner of the library and got to work on a powerpoint that, technically, he should have already started. It was due at the end of the week. Although he quickly realized he didn’t actually possess the focus or the motivation required to generate any sort of progress. Frustrated, he slammed his laptop closed and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. He could feel a headache brewing and decided that he may as well grab an early dinner and head back to his dorm.

The plan had been to go to bed early. The problem was that there was an itch at the back of his throat and no matter how many blankets he threw onto his bed, he couldn’t seem to get warm. Even after he’d gotten up to turn off his fan. Although it wasn’t until his joints started to ache that he started to wonder if perhaps he was coming down with something. He considered checking his temperature but was ninety-nine point nine percent sure he didn’t have a thermometer. And he didn’t particularly want to go out to attempt and purchase one. It occurred to him that he could call May. She was a nurse and could presumably give him a good idea of how to tell without having to go out. However, as he picked up his phone he abruptly realized how late it was.

Frettingly, he chewed at his lip and tried to decide what to do. May tended to work early shifts and was likely already in bed. He really didn’t want to wake her up for something that felt so trivial. It wasn’t like he was dying. He was just a little uncomfortable and knowing whether or not he had a fever would help him decide how to proceed. With a small defeated sigh, he clicked on Tony’s contact instead.

“Hey, Kid. It’s after eleven. What’s up?” Tony cheerily greeted.

[Continue Reading on AO3]

[castexpectopatronum]

Liquid Amber - Part III [Remus Lupin x Reader Imagine]

Summary: You had been crushing on Remus Lupin for an eternity when you finally decided to ask him out. However, things do not go as planned and you remain wondering just what exactly is going on with this boy.

notes: reupload because the original got deleated

trigger warnings: none

word count: 1.9k

Masterlist

What was Remus Lupin hiding?

The question was burning inside of you ever since your encounter in the corridor a few days ago. And even though you knew that it was none of your business, you still were determined to find out.

Concerning this matter, it was fortunate you fancied Remus as that made you far more observant of him. Whenever you could, you shot glances at him, during meals and classes, and paid special attention to his behaviour. You did notice that he seemed rather sick, he looked pale and peaky and he seemed to be growing weaker by each day.

Then, he disappeared. When you stepped into the Transfiguration classroom one day, already late, only to find his seat empty, a deep frown appeared on your face. His friends, James, Sirius and Peter, were there, but unusually quiet and had black shadows under their eyes. Peter even fell asleep during the lesson; his soft snores filled the classroom until Sirius nudged him with his ellbow causing Peter to almost fall from his chair. You observed them carefully while pretending to listen to Professor McGonagall’s lecture. Perhaps the Marauders had pulled off an all-nighter of some sort but that still didn’t explain Remus’ absence. Maybe he had a hangover – although you failed to imagine Remus as some kind of party animal.

Remembering how sickly he had looked the day before, you decided to check the Hospital Wing for him and bring Remus some chocolate bars from Honeyduke’s which you knew he loved.

However, when you entered the Hospital Wing, you found that it was already occupied. James, Sirius and Peter were huddled around a bed at the far corner of the room, hiding the person lying in it from your view. The expression upon their faces turned into one of surprise once they spotted you, mirroring your own.

“Sorry,” you said, taken aback by their presence – although now that you thought about it, you should have expected it. “I didn’t know you were here. I was just looking for Remus.”

The three of them exchanged looks, as if they knew something you didn’t, and stood up.

“No problem, we just wanted to leave, anyway,” Sirius said. Next moment, he groaned all of a sudden, leaving you to raise your eyebrows in surprise. James bent down to whisper something in Remus’ ear who looked rather alarmed. He replied something in a hushed voice but James simply gave him a crooked grin, patted him gently on the shoulder and barely gave Sirius and Peter the chance to say their goodbyes before he pushed them towards the door. Playing with your sleeves, you observed them with furrowed eyebrows.

“Y’know, if it’s not a good time, I can come back tomorrow or-”

“Nonsense, the time is perfect,” James interrupted.

“Just make sure to be gentle with him,” said Peter in a concerned voice. “He’s been through a lot.”

Your frown deepened. “What do you mean?”

“Just a nasty flu, tha’s all,” said Sirius quickly, shooting Peter a warning glance. “Nothing to worry about. Give it a few days and he’ll be as good as new.” He turned to his friends. “C’mon, we best be going.” They shot you one last glance and Peter flashed a smile, then the door closed behind them, the sound echoing in the room, leaving you and Remus alone in the Hospital Wing.

You turned around to him and chuckled nervously. “Well, that did not quite go as I expected.”

Remus didn’t laugh. He didn’t smile. He didn’t give any indication whatsoever that he was happy to see you. He simply stared at you, his eyes shining like liquid amber.

“What are you doing here?”

“I missed you in class today. Here.” You placed the chocolate bars on the nightstand next to his bed. “A little something to cheer you up. Thought you could use it.”

Remus nodded weakly. “Thank you,” he muttered and watched you sit down on a chair.

You smiled sheepishly. “So, the flu, eh?”

Remus shrugged and pulled the blanket up to his chin. “Happens to the best of us.”

You took in his appearence with furrowed eyebrows. Remus was whiter than the bedsheets, his face was hallow, and his eyes, usually so attentive and full of warmth, were now dull. Dark bags circling them, and he looked very thin and weak. You doubted he even had the strength to get up.

“How are you feeling?”

Remus turned his head away from you and looked up at the ceiling. “I’m fine.”

You cocked your head. “And Dumbledore isn’t two-hundred years old.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “I don’t think he’s quite that old.”

“How would you know? Do you know when he was born?”

“No wizard gets that old.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Dumbledore did. The man is ancient.”

This finally evoqued a smile from him which you couldn’t help but return. But he remained silent.

“You don’t really have the flu, do you?”

Remus’ head spun around, and although he hid it quickly and put on a neutral expression, you did not miss the flash of panic in his eyes.

“Of course I have the flu. What else should I have?”

“Remus, you’re as white as a ghost. The flu is terrible but it doesn’t make you look as if you’re on the brink of death.”

The moment the words left your mouth, you knew you had hit a nerve. Remus’ jaw clenched and his eyes suddenly turned colder. He turned his head to stare at the ceiling, avoiding the worried yet piercing look in your eyes.

“It’s a nasty one.”

You snorted. “Sure. Don’t try and fool me, Remus. I know a flu when I see it and whatever it is that you have, it’s not that.”

He didn’t respond.

You sighed, regretting the harsh tone in your voice. “Listen, Remus... You don’t have to tell me what you have or why you get sick so often. But... I just want you to know that I’m there for you if you ever do want to talk about it. And whatever it is – I can’t imagine it could change my opinion on you.” You gave your best to give him an encouraging smile and stood up. “You should eat some chocolate. You’ll feel better afterwards.”

You knew he wouldn’t answer but still lingered for several moments to a least give him the opportunity to. When your conviction proved to be right, however, you gave him one last half-hearted smile and left the Hospital Wing.

A part of you had hoped that after this incident Remus and you would grow closer but instead Remus was more determined than ever to avoid you. Every time you passed him in the hallway, you felt a painful sting in your heart. However, the original issue of Remus refusing to go out with you became less and less important to you although your crush on him grew stronger by each day.

Your academic success was quite average but you weren’t stupid – to you there was no doubt that Remus’s illness was the cause of all this trouble, also considering he often looked pale and sickly. Every time you saw him looking particularly weak, your wish to help him grew even more urgent than before but you could only help him with his condition if you knew what it was – and trying to get Remus to open up about his sickness was about as effective as convincing James of writing a love letter to Snape.

It was two months of this slow torture and several stupid theories later that you realised Remus’s sickness was not only a frequent but also regular occurence. As far as you remembered, he seemed to be getting sick every once a month.

A deep frown appeared on your face and you turned around in your seat to look at Remus who was taking notes on Professor Flitwick’s words. His face was pale again with dark bags circling his eyes. A strange cut peaked out from under his shirt collor.

As if he had felt your intent gaze, Remus suddenly lifted his head. For one moment, is amber eyes burned into yours, then his intense expression turned into one of guilt and he quickly looked back down at his notes.

That day you merely picked at your food, your thoughts far away. Your friend watched in concern as you ripped a breadroll into tiny little pieces without eating any of it, staring absent-mindedly onto the wooden table.

“(Y/N), are you alright?”

Startled, you looked up, halting in your motion. “Yeah, I uh...” You hesitated, looking at the breah crumbs in your hand. “Actually, I still got something to do, uh...” Pushing your plate away, you stood up from the dining table, your friend watching you in confusion. “I’ll catch you up later,” you promised and left the Great Hall before your friend had even opened their mouth to protest.

The library was dead quiet as every student was at dinner which was very much to your liking. That way you could follow your suspicions without having to worry about anybody asking unwanted questions.

Pensively, you let your fingers brush over the back of the old books until you finally pulled one out, feeling the weight of it in your hands. You viewed the cover thoughtfully for a moment before you tucked it under your arm and continued to collect more books.

Half an hour later, you carried a great stash of books out of the library, carefully transporting them the long way to your common room as they didn’t all fit into your bag.

“What the hell is that?” your friend asked incredulously as you entered your dorm room and let the books fall onto your bed where they scattered all over your blanket.

“Books,” you answered.

Your friend raised their eyebrows. „Really,“ they said blankly. „Good thing you explained that, I had no idea.“ You threw them an half-annoyed, half-amused glance as they strolled over to your bedside and viewed the book titles.

“Magical Diseases and Epidemics,” they read aloud, “Dragon Pox or Measles? An Encyclopedia on Magical Maladies.” They raised their head to look at you, their eyebrows raised so high they almost disappeared in their hairline. “Are you sick?”

“No,” you said, shaking your head, and started stacking the books on the nightstand, pushing your friend aside as you did. “It’s ... a new hobby.”

“A hobby?”

“Yes. That’s what you call an enjoyable freetime activity.”

“I didn’t know purulent dragon pox were an enjoyable free time activity.”

You threw her an annoyed glance as you put another book on the growing stack. “It’s an interesting topic as I have realised.”

“And you had to skip dinner to get those books?”

“Yes,” you said, avoiding your friend’s eyes.

You knew they didn’t believe a single thing you said but thankfully, they didn’t further inquire. Instead, they rolled their eyes and let themselves fall onto their own bed. “I always knew you were weird,” they said. “Just make sure you don’t actually get sick. I don’t fancy getting dragon pox.”

“No one is going to get dragon pox,” you replied, but a small smile was tugging at your lips. The two of you walked down to your common room to do your homework which, although you had quite some trouble concentrating on, you hurried to finish, so you could get back to your books.

Remus Lupin had a problem and you were determined to find out what it was.

[herinsectreflection]

There is a repeated motif in the show that when Buffy falls ill, she gains perception of a new reality. Sickness opens her third eye, and she glimpses the truth of things previously unseen. This is an old trope in folklore, that some kind of mental/physical suffering can bring forth forbidden knowledge - going back at least to Odin, cutting out his eye and hanging himself on the tree of life to gain knowledge of all things. It's a common trope in Buffy too - such as in S5, where the mentally ill are capable of seeing Dawn's true form.

We first see this with Buffy in Killed by Death, where she can only see the Kindestod while she is sick with the flu. The second is Earshot, where her demon infection allows her to hear the thoughts of people around her. The third is Normal Again, where another demon infection causes her to catch glimpses of an entirely new reality. All three take place at a similar point in the season, and tend to come at an emotional low point.

The parallels between the latter two really interest me. In both cases, this new level of perception drives Buffy to greater sickness, and she is unable to continue. She passes out, and is taken to rest in her bedroom, as her friends scramble to take care of her.

In both cases, the cure comes in the form of a potion, made from a part of the demon that infected her. In both cases, her vampire boyfriend goes to fight the demon and bring it back for her (which they both do successfully). They are then tasked with feeding her the cure.

However, while Angel successfully takes care of Buffy in Earshot, feeding her the potion and ensuring she recovers, Spike fails at his task in Normal Again. Almost immediately after he is given the task, he and Buffy get into an argument, which ends with him storming off. Immediately afterwards, Buffy pours the cure into the bin.

I don't want this to be taken as a pro-Angel/Bangel anti-Spike/Spuffy thing (I hope we have a fandom have moved past that). I just think it's interesting that we have these two situations and scenes that mirror each other very strongly, but one ends in success and the other in failure.

As the world seems to be crumbling around her, Buffy feels like her life is not as it once was. Her friends are not as much of a supportive presence ("Your sister, your friends, all of those people you created in Sunnydale, they aren't as comforting as they once were.") The battles she fights no longer have the same shine ("Buffy, you used to create these grand villains to battle against, and now what is it? Just ordinary students you went to high school with.") And her relationships are no longer a source of strength - they are toxic, and unhealthy, and cannot heal her as they once did.

Buffy can no longer rely on the people around her to heal her. They can still support and provide for her - and they do in this episode - but the final step to breaking out of the sickness has to come from Buffy herself.

[fortisfiliae]

Promised Part 10 - Tom Riddle x reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Masterpost | Masterlist

Summary: In this story, Tom didn’t grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader’s sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return.

Disclaimer: Please be aware that I don’t condone any of this in real life. (GIF is not mine)

Warnings: Arranged marriage

Word count: 3k

Part 10 - Mors Grano

The days after Avery’s poor attempt of gathering information went by quite eventfully. Not only had Avery and Lestrange almost gotten expelled by Dippet for what they had done, but had received the worst detention you had ever heard of. 

Every day, up until the N.E.W.T.s would start, they had to help Mr Carpe, Hogwarts’ caretaker, to clean every last bit of the castle. Without magic of course. And when they weren’t scrubbing floors, cleaning windows, or polishing trophies, they were copying the school rules on parchment, by hand. The amount of paper they had to fill looked like it wouldn’t even fit into an entire classroom, had it not been rolled up. 

Even if they still wanted to, their new schedule didn’t even give them enough time to trail, or even think about you. They barely had enough time to finish their homework before tumbling into their beds.

You would have felt sorry for them, but Tom’s snarky grin, which he wore every time you saw the two in the hallways, reminded you that you didn’t have to. 

Thank Merlin you hadn’t told Avery much when he had disguised himself as Tom. You had just confirmed that the engagement had been arranged but thankfully hadn’t said anything about your sister. There had been worse rumours going round about Tom and you. 

Camille almost didn’t believe you when you told her what they had done. After a lot of head shaking and “no, they didn’t”s she just stared at you with her mouth open and proceeded to laugh for a full minute or two when you told her about their punishment. 

It was a lucky coincidence that she had found an interest in Ben, as she didn’t mind now that you were spending a lot more time with Tom. She was preoccupied as well by the looks of it. 

After the accidental sleepover, you had stayed in Tom’s dorm overnight more often. Not on accident though. It had become a routine to you, to have another quick chat with Camille after classes, arrange some dates for when you wanted to study together and then make your way to the Slytherin common room, where Tom’s dorm was.

Tom was sitting at his desk when you entered the room, apparently deep in thought and studying the Potions book he had gifted you.

“Alright?” you said when you closed the door.

He nodded as you went up to him.

“Found anything interesting for the Moly?” you asked. “It still looks quite healthy to me.”

“Not really,” he answered and turned towards you. “Nothing specific.”

“Oh, I just got an owl from my parents. ” You crammed the letter out of your bag and handed it to him. “They’ve fixated the date. For the wedding.”

Tom read the letter quietly, his eyebrows twitching slightly once or twice.

“June 30th,” he said.

“That’s only one day after we graduate,” you stated and tried to lighten the mood by joking. “Seems like they can’t wait for the big day.”

He nodded as he gazed into the flames inside the fireplace, a tiny grin pulling on the edge of his mouth before he looked up at you. “Can you?”

To prevent the chuckle that built up inside of you from bursting out, you took Tom’s hand, lightly pulled on it and gestured towards the couch, where you wanted to sit. He closed the Potions book, but kept one finger inside it and took it with him when you led him over.

“Well, I don’t know,” you said as you let yourself fall onto the cushion. “It still doesn’t feel real, does it?”

“True,” he simply agreed. 

“I can’t wait to try on the dress, though. That’ll be exciting,” you went on and noticed him smiling. “And then there’s the most important part, of course.”

He gave you a look as if to say he didn’t know what you meant.

“Elsie,” you explained. “Your uncle will lift her curse completely then. Or so I hope at least.”

Morfin had to, didn’t he? It was part of the pact after all. Tom and you would get married so that they would free your sister. As much as you wanted to believe that the Gaunts were trustworthy, there had been a nasty sting in your stomach ever since the engagement. Would they really give up, even when they had won? They wouldn’t be able to control you anymore afterwards, or Tom, or anyone but themselves. Marvolo’s filthy grin appeared in your head. Would he ever give it a rest?

“He will free her, won’t he?” you asked.

Tom looked into your eyes for a moment, then cleared his throat. “Well, it’s what they agreed on.”

“But?” you asked. 

“But,” he went on, “You’ve seen how they are.”

An invisible weight seemed to pull on your limbs and the sting in your stomach got more intense. 

“They’ll never let go,” you breathed. “But how-”

Tom shook his head and exhaled slowly. “I have to show you something.”

He gave you the Potions book and opened it at the page where he had put his finger before. “I thought you’d come across it on your own, but as I noticed you wouldn’t… Just see for yourself.”

You stared at him for a moment, wondering what Morfin’s book had to do with anything, before looking down at it. Tom pointed at a recipe, written in scrawled handwriting:

Mors Grano or The Dust Of Slow Death The dust is used to be scattered over an item and will cling to the first person that touches it. Vanishes the second the victim comes in contact, which makes it very hard to be detected and cured. Victims will suffer from a distinctively harsh cough, as well as pain and flu-like symptoms, which will worsen each day, until they become fatal. Average time until death is around three weeks after the first encounter with Mors Grano. In most cases, the victim will lose their life before the appropriate antidote can be given. 

You didn’t bother reading the list of ingredients, as your hands were shaking far too much to even detect another word. You had heard of Mors Grano before. Professor Dippet had brought it up in History of Magic when you had learned about the Passing of Men in 1760. Hundreds of witches had poisoned their abusive husbands with it when the dust had been invented. It had taken years to figure out what had caused such an increased amount of deaths, which happened to involve male wizards only. The potion and most of its ingredients got banned afterwards and you had never heard of another case since.

Until now. It suddenly all made sense. The Gaunts had sent the letter and had coated it with Mors Grano. They had known how to cure Elsie all along and had patiently waited, days and weeks, had let your sister suffer until Father had contacted them. No wonder the owl had given the letter to her, even though it had been addressed to Father. They had specifically chosen her. A ten year old, innocent, little girl. 

You weren’t sure if you had to throw up, or just needed to punch something really hard, but your stomach did twists and turns that you had never felt before. A thin layer of sweat had formed on your forehead and your hands were still shaking.

“They…” you whispered. “And you knew?”

Tom swallowed thickly. “I didn’t at first. But then I came across it when Morfin prepared the poison.”

“And you never told me?” you asked, your voice loud and on the verge of breaking, while you attempted to get up from the couch.

“Let me explain,” Tom said and grabbed your hand. “Sit down.”

“What is there to explain?” you asked, trying to pull away from his grip. “You’ve known for months. Even before your first visit. Before Elsie got sick. And you never tried to prevent it, nor did you tell me.”

Tom’s grip around your hand got tighter the more you tried to get him off you. “I said let me explain. I let you explain yourself when I saw you with Avery, didn’t I? Imagine I just ran away then. Now sit down.”

Finally, Tom’s grip loosened, allowing you to tear your hand away from him. Not knowing what to think or say, you sat down but couldn’t bring yourself to even look in his direction.

“Yes, I knew,” he began with a sigh. “And I didn’t care until I found out what they wanted to use the potion for. But I couldn’t tell you. Or anyone. I still can’t. I’m unable to talk about it. They were a step ahead. Understand?”

The Gaunts were a step ahead. They always wanted to be. Just like on Christmas Day, when they wanted you and Tom to do-

“An unbreakable vow?” you asked with wide eyes. “You had to vow not to tell anyone.”

He nodded. “I vowed not to tell. But I didn’t vow not to show.”

He turned one page inside the book and handed it to you again.

Mors Grano - antidote

Ingredients: 

The skin of a snake

2 fresh Foxgloves

3 blossoms of a Moly

4 drops of Moondew

5 tears of a Banshee

“The antidote,” you mumbled. “Full with an ingredient list and instructions. Morfin brewed it already then? They gave it to Elsie, otherwise, she wouldn’t have gotten better.”

“He didn’t complete it,” Tom answered, apparently trying not to say something that would interfere with the vow.

“He left out something? They gave her an unfinished antidote?”

Tom nodded. 

“The tears?” you guessed, solely because it was the most powerful and rare item on the list.

“I’m not sure. They never let me into his chamber after the engagement.”

“Can we… Can we steal it from him? And add the last ingredient?”

“Marvolo has the flask on him at all times. He’s suspicious, even of Morfin.”

Bloody hell. Marvolo’s paranoia was a real pain. You scanned the antidote again, thinking of all the ways you could get your hands on that potion.

“But I could brew it myself. Most of the ingredients are easy to find. Foxgloves are for sale in Diagon Alley, I’ve seen them countless times. The Moly, we have it here,” you listed and looked at it standing on the desk, finally realising why Tom had tried to keep it alive so badly. “Snakeskin from Nagini. We just wait for her to shed. Moondew and the Banshee tears will be tricky, however.”

Tom nodded at every new thing you had said. “You figured it out.”

Your stomach had stopped squirming at the glimmer of hope you had for saving Elsie. You carefully read the recipe for the antidote again, understanding how long it would take and how hard it would be to get the potion right. If everything went well, it would be finished mid to late June at the earliest. Besides, Slughorn had never taught you such advanced techniques. 

Now that you were thinking of your Professor, it began to dawn on you. “Do you think Slughorn has Moondew and Banshee tears in his chamber?”

“Possibly,” Tom answered. “But do you really want to steal from him after what Avery and Lestrange did? I’m sure he’s got it all locked up in his office now.”

“Well, I have to try. Where else would I get those things from? And I better try soon. The antidote will take months to make as it is and the earlier I start, the better.”

Tom took the book, got up from the couch and put it into the drawer of his desk, closing it shut slowly.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“We’re going to Slughorn then, aren’t we? Come on.”

You followed him out hastily, trying to sort out your thoughts. Frankly, you had not expected to get the ingredients this quickly.

“Wait, how are we going to do it?” you asked, struggling to keep pace. “We can’t just sneak in and grab the things we need. He might be in there.”

“Even better then,” Tom said, not deigning to look at the other students strolling along the hallways. “I talk, you get the stuff.”

As Slughorn’s office was located on the sixth floor, it took some time to get there. Your mind was still racing around the facts you had just been given and you needed to talk about it.

“I can’t believe they made you vow,” you muttered. “Marvolo and Morfin are…”

“Bastards,” he finished your sentence when you stepped from one of the moving staircases to another. “I’m aware.”

“Well, yes they are.”

You were the only people on the staircase, floating higher up towards your destination. Tom looked over his shoulder to double-check if anyone could hear him.

“You know what,” he said pensively. “I actually expected people to ask me what I, or my family, had done to make the engagement happen. Seeing as it was them who got the ball rolling. But everyone suspected you. They all thought your parents bribed us.”

You thought about what to answer for a moment. A sour smile had formed on your face. One that, for all you knew, every woman had worn at least once in her life. 

“A woman's intentions will always be questioned a hundred times harsher than those of a man, Tom. What else is new?”

He pressed his lips together, nodded and kept quiet until you reached the sixth floor.

“Wait,” you said and got a hold of his hand when you had entered the corridor of Slughorn’s office. “I wanted to thank you. For helping me. The book, the Moly and now this. You know you don’t have to.”

He squeezed your fingers lightly in response. 

“Trust me, no one hates Marvolo and Morfin more than I do. If I can make their lives a bit harder, I’ll gladly do it. And besides, I want to see your sister become Quidditch captain one day. That will really piss them off.”

There wasn’t a lot of time to take in Tom’s words, as you had arrived. There it was. The door to Slughorn’s room.

“Get behind me,” Tom ordered. “Make sure he doesn’t see you.”

You did as he said, pressed your back against the stone wall and watched from a small distance how Tom knocked on the door and Slughorn opened it.

“Oh, Tom,” the Professor said. “Good afternoon. What brings you here?”

“Good afternoon Professor. I hope I’m not disturbing you. I have some questions about Avery and Lestrange. I’m trying to sort out some things for Professor Dippet. Would you mind letting me in?”

Slughorn opened the door fully and stepped back. “Of course, boy, of course. Come in.”

Tom had left the door open for you to slip in behind them, which you instantly did. He lured Slughorn to the far end of his office, walking backwards and keeping an eye on you. Slughorn’s potion stock was right next to the entrance, where you knelt down between the shelves, in case he would turn around unexpectedly.

The small drawers weren’t tagged, but you noticed that their contents were sorted alphabetically. As you silently roamed through them, you could hear Tom and Slughorn speak.

“So, Professor,” Tom said. “Do you know if Avery and Lestrange have taken anything else? Apart from the Polyjuice Potion?”

The Professor hummed. “Not that I’m aware of, no. Why?”

Every single one of the drawers was filled to the brim with ingredients, some vials even had completed potions in it, but you still hadn’t seen the things you were looking for. It was a delicate act to go through everything so quickly, while being quiet at the same time and making sure not to miss anything.

“Well, there were some items found. Residues of Moondew and Banshee tears,” Tom explained.

“Banshee tears?” Slughorn asked.

“Yes. We can’t be sure if it was them, but I thought if you missed those things from your supply, the two might have something to do with it.”

“No, everything else is there, I counted it myself,” Slughorn assured. “What baffles me are the Banshee tears.”

Tom was an excellent liar, even though Slughorn would have probably bought anything his favourite student said. The bottom drawer at the penultimate row was stuck. You pulled the handle tightly but it only opened up an inch and gave a screech while it did, making you freeze from fear.

“Did you hear something?” Slughorn asked, his voice echoing your way.

“No, I didn’t,” Tom answered and coughed. “Why are you surprised about the Banshee tears, sir?”

“Well, those tears are rare,” the teacher answered, his head directed towards Tom again. “Very rare and also not very legal, boy. I’ve never seen them anywhere in my whole life. They couldn’t have been from me.”

No Banshee tears from Slughorn then. You pulled out your wand and cast a nonverbal spell to loosen up the stuck drawer. Should have done that right away, you thought to yourself. Eventually, it opened smoothly and your eyes went over all the flasks and their name tags. Mollowsweed, mandrake, maw, mistletoe berry... Moondew. Thank Merlin! There were over ten vials of it in the drawer, so you hastily took out one and put it into your pocket.

You peeked over the counter, locked eyes with Tom, and pointed towards the door to let him know you would leave.

“I see,” Tom went on, his eyes back on Slughorn. “We’ll have to look into that. Anyway, if you do notice some Moondew missing, against all expectations, I’m going to have another talk with Dippet about Avery and Lestrange.”

“I’ll let you know, boy. Thank you.”

“Enjoy your evening, sir.”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Masterpost | Masterlist

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[twstdreams]

A Bouquet to Share: Flower Foraging

CYOA: Chronic Hanahaki AU

Length: 2K | ao3 link

Warnings: fluff, mentions of flu/cold

next

You’re waiting in front of the mirror for your turn to pass, behind the infamous first years. No one in NRC isn’t aware of the prefect and their friends, mostly how they perpetually get themselves in all sorts of trouble. 

“Hey, wasn’t the prefect going to be in our group?” Jack asks

“Oh, they couldn’t make it because they got sick,” Deuce answers. There’s a pause as the unasked question lingers in the air. If they’re just suffering from a passing virus or if it’s that illness.

“With a normal cold,” Ace clarifies, “Grim’s been complaining about having to take care of them.”

You think you’ve heard ten different iterations of this conversation before. Some with Octa A-kun, another with a Pomefiore duo, the same rumours and inquiries always start flying when winter is broken by spring’s warm touch. Everyone wants to know who has hanahaki and chronic sufferers are always the first suspect. People attempt to deduce who’s sick because of pollen or because of the flowers blooming in their lungs. It’s not a lethal disease with modern magic and technology, but you swear enough drama follows it to make up for the lack of imminent doom.

“Hand!” the ghost before you demands once you’re at the front of the line. You offer the back of your hand and immediately a rose is stamped on it, proof that you’re a student who has access to the Great Seven botanical gardens. Then you step through the mirror and are greeted by the site of a massive glass structure. You’re excited to explore the grounds. Each area is its own biome with unique flora and fauna which flourish in that environment. Personally, you’re hoping to see the aquatics section for fun, but you need to ensure that you complete your assignment first.

“Meet each other in the tropical region in two hours!” you text to Jamil and he responds with an affirmation. You two had already agreed to this prior to the project. Most people are wandering the gardens with their partner, but you know Jamil has his hands full with Kalim. You just hope Jamil will actually get to appreciate a couple flowers too.

Officially, the headmaster says this is a field trip for all grades because botany is useful in several fields of magic. You think it’s because a massive amount of students visiting from a prestigious school gets him some sort of discount, but those aren’t thoughts you voice out loud. Not that you care, the Great Seven Botanical gardens hosts some unique and deadly plants, even more so than the poisonous flowers allowed to bloom on campus. You can't choose a lot of them for your assignment but nothing is stopping you from visiting them if you have extra time. Plus, activities amongst different classes aren’t that common, let alone those in various years. If you’re lucky, you might see Malleus amongst the flowers.

You’ve only met Malleus at night, on late walks while perhaps avoiding a guard or two. The daffodils at the entrance remind you of your first meeting with Malleus. But you can’t recall clearly, was there only one daffodil at the spot where you met or several?

-

Staying up late the night before to cram for a test, only to crash and take a nap afterwards completely messed up your sleep schedule. No amount of staring at your ceiling was going to make you drowsy. Besides, you want to explore the campus and check out some night-blooming flowers. You spotted several during the day but hadn’t gotten the chance to see them underneath the moonlight. 

You slip out of your dorm to enjoy the slight breeze and fresh air entering your lungs. Exploring the campus at night feels a little liminal. Not to say that it was silent, some nocturnal familiars scurry around, a ghost or two floating, and more than a couple of students here and there creating background noise. But it's interesting to see a campus normally overflowing with life morph into something restful and quiet. The closer you get to the Ramshackle dorm, the more this effect becomes more pronounced.

You spot plenty of random vegetation growing on the lawns of the dorm. You’d be willing to bet a week’s worth of lunches that dorm hasn’t had real maintenance for at least a decade. Horrid for the prefect living there, you really do feel bad for them, but lots of fun for your midnight flower foraging trip. Your phone battery is dying fast with the flashlight so you test out a new spell you’ve recently learned. You murmur the incantation and a ball of light forms in the palm of your hand. You try to extend it so it acts as a familiar but the light begins to flicker so you’re stuck with having it illuminate the area around your hand. A little testing, a failure or two, and you’re able to create a soft light to guide you. Your hand is nothing but a glorified flashlight, but you can see your surroundings so it’s not a total fail. Unfortunately, what you thought was some pretty evening primrose is actually daffodils.

“How odd. You’re not one of the Ramshackle inhabitants,” a voice notes. You’re certain a ghost has come to lecture you, but you let out a gasp when you realize a living being is behind you.

“I’m, uh, yeah I don’t live here,” you admit, “Just wanted some fresh air. I couldn’t sleep.” You were honestly hoping to avoid all dorm leaders, you know some don’t take kindly to students leaving their dorm after hours, and you think some greater force must be laughing at you because somehow you’ve stumbled upon the most mysterious and powerful one.

“And you came to this abandoned building to do that?” His voice is even. You’re not sure if there’s an accusation laced in his statement or if his regal airs just make him always seem confident and a bit unfriendly.

“I thought it’d be cool to see the night-blooming flowers too,” you add, “There’s supposed to be some evening primrose and moonflowers beneath a gargoyle but I can’t figure out which one it is.” 

“I can introduce you to the correct gargoyle,” Malleus comments. Your head, which is frantically processing information and doing its best to be logical, tells you that’s probably a social cue to ask him to show you where the gargoyle is. Your mind, however, is still trying to comprehend how the heck you ended up meeting the Malleus Draconia on a weedy lawn.

“I am part of the gargoyle appreciation society,” he continues but the way his lips were pressed into a thin line indicates that you’ve spent a little too long coming up with a response.

“Oh! That’s impressive,”—now isn’t a good time to admit you didn’t know that club existed—“if you don’t mind, then I’d really appreciate it!” He nods once in acknowledgement and you begin trailing after the dragon fae. 

“Do you know about each of the gargoyles?” you ask; you ought to express interest in his passions when he’s doing you a favour. You’re not sure what to expect, but it was most definitely not an encyclopedic infodump about Ramshackle’s gargoyles.

“This is the first gargoyle, located on the entrance to the east building. Are you able to see it?” Before you had a chance to answer, Malleus casts a spell of light that creates fake fireflies which illuminate your surroundings. 

“Now I can. It kind of looks like a crow,” you answer. The gargoyle is easy to see but you think Malleus’ elegant magic is more beautiful. Your lightbulb of a hand is almost embarrassing and you quickly stop the spell.

“It is a crow, which is extremely rare for a gargoyle. This is the only one I’ve ever seen. Its quality means it must have been made by a famous craftsman. It looks like it could take flight at any moment.” He goes on about the history of the gargoyles here; you’ve never really been interested in them but the way Malleus talks about them with such excitement makes you engaged. It’s the way that extensive knowledge is intertwined with informed hypotheses while the excitement in his tone never leaves. Hearing Malleus talk about something he loves feels enchanting and endearing. His bubbling enthusiasm is cute.

“This is the gargoyle with the evening primrose and moonflowers,” Malleus announces. Once he finishes his little spiel about its history, you begin to take pictures of the flowers. You want to ask if you can take a picture of him; there’s something so odd about this experience that you want a picture to prove it is real. However, the fresh air has awaken your brain cells and they let you know that perhaps asking someone you just met for a photo in the dead of night is not the best idea. But well, Malleus has been pretty accommodating so you decide to ask for another favour.

“If you don’t mind, could you teach me that light spell?” you inquire. The surprise is evident in his expression and you wonder if you’re being too selfish.

“Is that so? You want me to help you with your spell? Interesting,” he comments and honestly, the pause makes you so nervous you regret ever opening your mouth, “Very well. Show me what you can do.” Even though you're the one who asked, you're a little surprised that the Malleus Draconia has agreed to some impromptu tutoring.

“I can summon a light but I’m having trouble making it steady after it stops making contact with my body,” you explain while taking out your wand. You murmur the incantation and a soft light envelopes your hand while illuminating your surroundings. As the light starts to float away, its shape begins to morph and looks like a blob of light which never stays a consistent shape, akin to a lava lamp. 

“You have enough magic to power the spell. The changing shape suggests that you’re having trouble imagining the outcome,” Malleus sumrises, “Why don’t you try mimicking the shape of mine?” Malleus adjusts the shape of his firefly lights into simple spheres. Unfortunately, it does not go so smoothly for you. First the light looks like a balloon, then it shrinks to the size of a marble, but when you have it at a reasonable size then the edges of the ball begin to quiver.

“I’m sorry it’s taking me so long,” you mutter. Sure, you don’t expect to be on the same level as someone as infamous as the Diasomnia dorm leader, but this feels embarrassing.

“You aren’t expected to master everything at the beginning. Don’t be shy,” he reassures. His comforting words encourage you to calm down. You take in a deep breath and start again. The light transforms into a uniform sphere—your own little sun for this corner of the world the two of you are tucked away in.

“I did it!” you exclaim, “It’s all thanks to your advice!” You toss the light between your hands before extending it to float beside Malleus’.

“You already completed the basics. I only offered some advice,” he gently protests but a smile remains on his face all the same.

“What’s the incantation to change its colour again?” you ask, and Malleus says it aloud for you to repeat. You alter your spell, dying it in your favourite colour, then allow it to dance in the sky. His luminescent green light merges with yours, and the spells twine with each other.

-

Since then you’ve taken to late-night walks for exercise and hopes of meeting Malleus. You haven’t exactly been charming—

“Are you here to admire gargoyles?” Malleus inquires when the two of you meet in the dead of night yet again.

“No, but I can,” you offer. Admitting to the ruler of the valley of thorns that you have been wandering around at night to see him again because you’re very intrigued and a little enamoured is not ideal. Luckily Malleus never questions your intent.

— but the two of you are on friendly terms now. So far no flowers were blooming in your lungs, but you’d be lying if you said a crush wasn’t taking root in your heart. But before you could linger on any hypothetical flowers, you have to pick an actual flower for your assignment! As a second year, you will have to grow whichever flower you pick back at school. 

Which flower will you choose? Vote here

White and pink carnations

Crimson astilbe (feather flowers)

Purple snapdragons

Orange tiger lilies

[skellebonez]

Since it's been a while since I prompted you, 38/51 for Traffic Light Trio and Spicynoodleshipping?

It’s also been a while since you... sent this... I am getting through my prompts slowly but surely! Hopefully the wait was worth it, it has been a while since I have written TLT or SpicyNoodles alone so this was really enjoyable! I apparently missed this more than I realized as this is quite long! (There are references to a past fill as well, but this can be read stand alone.)

If you move from that spot, so help me, I will tie you down/Can you two save the kissing for later?

“For the love of- stop trying to get up Noodle-Brain!” Red Son snapped, albeit more with exasperated worry than anger this time. “You’re only going to make it worse!”

“No, really, I’m fine!” Xiaotian insisted, moving to once again attempt to stand.

He was not fine and his face soon came into contact with an impromptu date with Red Son’s open palm, catching him before he landed on the floor instead. Normally Xiaotian would have pulled his face back with a muttered "sorry" or "thanks" or "wow Red that was shockingly nice of you".

Instead he groaned and allowed himself to just kind of... hang there, his weight being held by that palm that probably felt oddly normal temperatured to him at the moment. Understandable given that his face was flushed red and that even to Red's naturally warmer body temperature touch he felt overheated in fever.

This was not quite the sight Red Son had expected to see when he had ventured out into the city on his own, just wanting to have some kind of time away from his work to gather his thoughts about... well, a lot of things. Ever since the entire fiasco with the Lunar New Year festival his mind had been wandering back toward when he worked with Xiaotian and Xiaojiao and things that happened afterwards.

He still had the phone he had accidentally kept from the green dragon and they had talked a few times. More than a few times. ... ok, maybe they had been texting near daily and had calls every other night and maybe he started watching her streams out of curiosity, and maybe he had been added to a group chat with the Noodle Boy and started to text him too, but he didn't really have anyone else to talk to outside of the his parents and Bull Clones! They were still enemies, just friendly ones! Frenemies! And it had been... nice. To talk to someone who seemed interested in what he wanted to say. And maybe understood him a little. Maybe possibly... didn't actually dislike him as much as he had believed initially.

... and maybe Red Son was deluding himself when he said he didn't actually like either of them, but that was neither here nor there! His thoughts were getting away from him!

The point was thus- he'd gone into the city for a break with the intention of heading to his private apartment he had for such occasions, happened upon one Noodle Boy laying face down on the seat of his (otherwise empty and clearly not being used for work that day) delivery vehicle looking absolutely miserable and burning up, and against his better judgment he took him back to said apartment. That was shockingly easy considering Xiaotian was pretty much passed out due to the high fever combined with his moving around and the fact Red Son could lift the vehicle himself if he wanted to (he didn't, he just took the keys with them so no one would make off with it).

And so that was how Red Son found himself in this predicament. In his apartment with the AC on just enough to be slightly uncomfortable, one sick Monkie Kid doing his best to remove himself from his couch with a cold compress on his forehead while insisting he was fine when he clearly was not, debating on whether or not he should have taken this dumbass to the hospital instead. If only because he was being frustrating to keep still.

"You are most clearly not 'fine', now lay back down," Red Son said with a warning growl, pushing his rival (gently, he wouldn't be so callous as to kick someone while they were down like this) back into the mound of pillows he had laid out for him. He never had visitors so he may as well make the best of this and pull out what he had in storage so they could be used for once. "If you move from that spot, so help me, I will tie you down."

"... ok," Xiaotian finally acquiesced, closing his eyes and laying back into the plush around him and looking even worse than he had before he had been trying to convince the other he was fine. (Though had he not looked clearly sick the sight would have been almost cute to-NO! Red was not going to think that.)

Red Son didn't know what precisely was wrong with him, though based on his symptoms and reactions it was likely a basic but now out of control flu (regardless, he knew he himself was in little to no danger of most human illnesses) and helping him recuperate here (because no one except Red Son was allowed to defeat the Monkie Kid, not even an illness!) was looking like a more reasonable idea now. But he couldn't help but wonder how had the other man allowed himself to get this bad. Why had he even gone outside in his state? He wasn't working, his lack of normal uniform or delivery orders was evidence enough of that, so it wasn't as if he had been forced to go out by his boss. Was he just too stubborn? Did he think he would be ok for a few minutes and not realize he was this ill? The delivery boy was of no help in that regard, brushing off every attempt from the fire demon to learn the answers to those questions. He wasn't delirious, he just refused to answer!

So instead of trying to push again Red Son sighed and stood up. When Xiaotian opened his eyes to look at him in curiosity he frowned at the deep dark bags under them (had he ever been sleeping?) and the dull sheen they seemed to have before he held his hand up in a "stop" motion.

"You stay right there. I meant that threat. I am going to be back in 10 minutes. Do not test me..." Red stood, lifting both his arms for a moment before giving the other another glance. "And don't, uh... die, I guess."

And then Red was gone in a wave of his arms and a flash of fire.

~

He landed at the entrance to a nearby convenience store, not somewhere one would normally think he would frequent but convenience was convenience. And they had very good coffee to grab when he ran out in his apartment. Yes, he was a Villain with a capital V and could just torment the staff for free goods... but he knew that if he did that long enough the stores would start causing him trouble or close down and that would negate the convenience.

No, it wasn't because the first cashier that greeted him was willing to pay for his goods believing he had forgotten his wallet and thus felt guilty for his first attempt at doing so. And he would deny that until the day he died.

That wasn't his goal for the day, however. Red Son may not get ill the way humans did, but it felt useful to him to know how how to treat the more common ailments in the event his family may be forced to work with one. So he grabbed a basket and made a quick beeline straight for the nearest aisle with medicine.

In even less than the 10 minutes he cited he had a basket filled with flu medicine, more cold compresses, soup broth, and much more. Yes, all of this was absolutely necessary. He didn't care that much about his nemesis, he just wouldn't let an illness make him weak. Nope. That was the only reason. Nothing else. He totally wasn't caring for someone he considered a friend, he didn't have friends, not even Xiaojiao was a-

"Red?"

Crap.

"What are you doing standing in line at a convenience store?" Xiaojiao asked, and as Red turned back to her he saw that she had... some very similar items in her own basket, plus some comics. At his eyes widened in realization she looked down at his own basket and sighed. "... either this is a very interesting coincidence or Xiaotian did something he shouldn't have."

~

Red entered his apartment through the door, the noise rousing the apparently lightly sleeping man on his couch.

"Red? You're back alrea-!?" Xiaotian snapped his mouth shut as he turned his head and opened his eyes to see the wide smiling face of a, clearly to someone who knew her well, angry Xiaojiao. "... I'm in trouble aren't I?"

"Oh you have no idea," she replied lightly, setting down the snacks and books and other assorted items she had purchased while Red made his way into the kitchen with his purchases. "I told you I would be at your apartment with stuff after I finished covering your shift for you, so would you like to explain why Red Son found you nearly passed out in your tuk-tuk half way to the nearest store?"

Though her words were sharp and snappy, it was clear to the listening Red that they were so in genuine concern for her friend. There was a mutter from Xiaotian and a questioning sound from Xiaojiao before the man cleared his throat and repeated himself.

"You already helped me out... I just wanted to try to get that stuff myself so you wouldn't have to do more. I was feeling pretty ok until I drove for a while..."

Ah. So that explained it. Xiaotian had just been going out for medication himself. Not the best idea with a fever of his magnitude, but understandable if he believed he could handle something that simple. Red had begun to wonder if he had been trying to head to Flower Fruit Mountain with bow evasive he was being, but this was a much less disastrous answer.

"Xiaotian, you're my best friend," he heard Xiaojiao say in a much softer tone, and there was the sound of the shuffling on the couch. "I wanted to help you, it didn't matter to me how much it was. I've helped you get to Flower Fruit Mountain and kick demon ass! A delivery shift or two and a convenience store run is something I'd do in a heartbeat. Now open your mouth, I grabbed a thermometer so we can see how bad off you actually are."

There was an agreeable sound and a chuckle, then silence as Red continued what he had been doing. Taking out a dose of medication and preparing something for Xiaotian to eat. Or, rather, drink along side the tea he was also preparing for himself and Xiaojiao. It was little more than chunks of tofu and soup broth with some mild flavoring, something simple and easy to make and eat while sick and-

Red Son held his face in his hands and groaned softly as he waited for the broth to warm. What was he doing? His greatest enemies were in his living room, one sick with fever, and he was preparing medicine and food for him. Frenemies? Only he could defeat them? Is that really what he was telling himself to justify his actions? That they were friend-enemies and they were his to beat?

That was a bold faced lie and he knew it. Had known it for a while. Maybe since he first called Xiaojiao just to speak with someone who would listen to him. Maybe since he first watched her stream in curiosity. Certainly, though, since he accepted being added to the group text she had named "Traffic Light Trio" (really? What kind of name that that?). He would have never done that had he not considered them his friends, he knew that deep down. He just didn't want to admit it (and he super did not want to admit that he maybe felt his own face warm up when they complimented him or that he had butterflies in his stomach the off times they called him by nicknames).

As he turned off the now lightly boiling broth and set it to the side to cool, Red Son began to admit to himself that maybe he was just as much of a dumbass as the Noodle Boy. It seemed that out of the three of them Xiaojiao had firm hold on the only available brain cells when it came to interpersonal relationships.

But that train of thought was not helpful at the moment, so he pushed it down (deeeeeeep down) as he gathered everything up and made his way to the couch again.

The sight that greeted him gave him pause Xiaojiao sitting on the arm of the couch and running a hairbrush through Xiaotian's tangled hair, Xiaotian looking slightly better thanks to the compress against his forehead and smiling softly against the pillows.

There were those butterflies. Oh. Red Son had it bad.

"So?" He asked, drawing their attention to himself as he sat everything on the nearby table. "How bad is it?"

"Not enough to take him to a doctor yet," Xiaojiao answered with a chuckle as she hopped down. "Though I think what you did before helped with that."

Red flushed a bit himself in response, grumbling under his breathe as he shoved the medicine and a cup of water into Xiaotian's hands. "WELL. Take this and. Maybe it’ll stay that way!" He attempted to sound as snappy as normal but the looks on both his guests faces told him he failed miserably in that regard.

"Thanks, Red," Xiaotian said with an earnest smile, and the butterflies were back and Red Son couldn't help the slight sparking of his hair in response.

"Don't mention it. Ever." He grumbled a bit, taking the cup before sighing and helping Xiaotian sit up straighter. "You shouldn't eat half laying down." He maneuvered the pillows to make a little wall between Xiaotian and a space next to the arm of the couch. A space he quickly occupied himself before handing him the bowl of broth over his shoulder. "So you don't have to move more."

The other two looked at each other with surprise on their faces before Xiaojiao smiled and sat on the other arm as they grew silent. Xiaotian eating, Xiaojiao playing on her phone, and Red... well. He tried to look like he was doing something on "his" phone, the one he took from Xiaojiao and replaced the old case with a showy flame covered one. But in reality he was just sitting there staring into space thinking "holy crap this is happening what have I done what happens next oh crap".

"Hey Red?"

"YES!?" He asked far too loud and quick with a squeak in his voice as his hair flared at Xiaotian's words, clearing his throat before repeating himself in a much more appropriate tone (only to earn a giggle from Xiaojiao).

He felt the other man lean back against him, and before he could even begin to fight his flush on his face he heard him chuckle as well. "I appreciate your help."

"L-like I said... don't mention it..."

Xiaotian chuckled again in reply and sighed, leaning completely against Red Son and as he looked over and down he saw his relaxed face and flushed deeper and... it felt nice.

He wondered why he ever pushed down his feelings before.

Xiaojiao grabbed the dishes with a knowing smirk, heading into the kitchen with a few parting words.

"Can you two save the kissing for later? Maybe when Xiaotian isn't sick?"

Both men flushed as deep as they could and sputtered out denials in response, and if that wasn't an indication that Xiaotian maybe felt similarly to Red as Red did to him...

[mcthehuman]

Lucifer, Satan, and Beel with a Sick F!Reader

I’ve been thinking of domestic Lucifer and Satan for a while so I wrote this imagine, I added Beel too because he’s a soft boyo. Should I make for the other brothers?

Lucifer

Even after everything, Lucifer suddenly remembers - you're still a human, a fragile and mortal human - as he watches the witch, Agnodice, care to your wanned body. A white glow glazes over the witch's hand and she places it on top of your feverish forehead. When you groan, Lucifer's body immediately reacts, but the witch's smirk pulls him back, a frustrated line draws on his lips as he digs his arms closer against his chest.

"I must say, this is quite the surprise, Lucifer," she says while standing straight. "I have never even thought of the day you would become attached to a human, especially to a non-magi."

"You're mistaken," he says immediately, defensively. "I am merely following Lord Diavolo's orders by taking care of our human exchange student."

"By calling me?"

"Are you not a human world physician?" He snaps, glaring at her. "Agnodice, I did not summon you to the Devildom to pique your opinion. I am merely doing my job and, frankly, you should be doing yours."

"It's the common flu, Lucifer. It's no pressing need to go through the trouble of summoning me." She smirks then opens her palm silencing the demon as a soft and sparkling white light dances around her hand, a pack of medicines and a neat scroll conjures on top of it.

"She's fine, Lucifer," she says kindly. "It was probably brought upon the upcoming winter winds here in the Devildom. It's quite extreme compared to the ones back in the human world. Assure that she has proper winter attire and that she takes her medicine every six hours after a meal."

"Thank you, Agnodice," Lucifer takes the medicine and examines the scroll carefully. "You may leave."

Agnodice holds back a smile at the sight. Thank you, huh? To the unsuspecting eye, Lucifer remained collected and haughty, an image only befitting of the responsible and mighty Avatar of Pride. But she lived long enough to recognize the telling concern that softened his hardened eyes. The witch turns on her heel and exits the bedroom, pausing as to hear you moan from the other side.

"Lucifer?" You croak, pushing your body up weakly. Lucifer frowns and takes a seat beside you, holding onto your frail arms.

"Don't strain yourself," he coos. "Get more rest. I'll wake you when there's food."

"I'm not hungry," you whisper, resigning as he gently lays you back on the bed. "I feel cold."

Lucifer tucks the comforter closer to your neck, his fingers skimming against the skin of your jaw gently. "I shall fetch you more blankets then," he stands but you immediately catch his wrist, your hand faltering almost immediately at the sudden strain of energy. Lucifer sits once more, taking your hand in his and caressing it gently with his thumb.

"Such a troublesome human," he whispers and you laugh throatily. His words were harsh, but Agnodice notes the apparent gentleness of his voice and quietly flushes her body closer to the door, listening intently.

"You find it endearing."

"What is it that you want?"

"Sleep with me," you say and catch Lucifer off guard, his eyes widened by surprise. You let out another throaty laugh, "Not like that, silly. I meant, sleep beside me. It will make me feel better, plus, the sleep will do you good. I know you're a report away from fatigue."

"Demons do not get fatigued," Lucifer states a matter-of-factly, slipping his hands underneath your back and legs before lifting you in one smooth ascend. "Are you failing Basic Demonology?"

"Hmm," you shift closer against Lucifer's chest, sighing at the intimate sound of his heartbeat. "I don't think so. Either way, you do need the rest."

"I don't need to rest. But," Lucifer leans close to your forehead and presses a chaste kiss on top, keeping still and letting his lips brush against your skin as he spoke. "I must take care of what's mine, so I shall sleep beside you. Come, my bed is much bigger."

Oh Lucifer, Agnodice smiles as she quietly pushes herself off from the door, walking briskly out of the hall, you've mellowed.

Satan

There's a faint glow from your bedside table as you wake from your sleep. You groan and shift from underneath the neatly tucked comforter on top of you, hearing a soft "oh" from beside you as you do. Satan lowers his book and flashes a gentle smile when you meet his eyes. He stands from his chair and takes one stride to your bed, sitting beside a space near your legs.

"Hey," he says softly. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," you croon. Satan catches the way you weakly push yourself up and moves closer, helping you by your shoulders to sit up. When you're comfortably seated, he slowly pulls his hands away, skimming his cool fingers against your hot arms as he does so.  

"Thank you," you whisper, weakly taking his hand in yours before he could pull away. He smiles and holds it endearingly, his thumb grazing against your knuckles. 

"Anytime," he says with a genuine smile. "Are you hungry?"

"I am," you nod. "What's for dinner?"

"We had Quetzalcoatl brain stew. But," Satan hesitantly pulls his hand away and stands, walking to the bedside table to pick up a tray. "I thought you might want something else."

Satan carefully places the tray on your lap and you feel your heart swell at the sight - a small vase of flowers that looked like the Devildom's counterpart of the Peony, a tall glass of water with lemon, small chocolate candies, a book, and a small clay pot.

"Don't - don't get ahead of yourself," he stammers and you look up to see faint pink tinting his cheeks. "It's my first time cooking this, so I don't know if it's your liking." 

He takes the lid off and you smile at the sight and smell that dances in your nose.

"Is this chicken noodle soup?" you ask, your smile spreading farther on your cheeks. Satan nods and clears his throat.

"I read that this was the best human dish to serve when one is sick."

"It is," you reach for the spoon but hesitate when Satan shuffled anxiously. 

"There are so many variations to the recipe, but if we're talking about the key ingredients, Devildom cuisine has a counterpart - "

His insistent warnings grew faster but went nowhere as you leaned in and took a spoonful, making sure to blow it a little before taking a sip. Satan pursues his lips as he watches you taste it.

"It's good," you say a few seconds later and giggle as to see the evident relief wash over his face.

"Really?"

"Really."

"Please be a bit more constructive," he says seriously. You let out a throaty laugh and nod once before taking another sip, letting the soup stay on your tongue longer.

"It's a little bland," you say slowly, unsure of what to say - it really did taste good. "But, I think that's a good thing. I am sick, so my senses are a bit muted. If it were any saltier, it probably wouldn't be good for me either."

"Alright then," Satan rubs his chin before nodding contently, a small smirk curving his lips. "Don't lie to me now. If you are, you're giving me false confidence in trying to cook more human world dishes for you."

"I'm not," you giggle softly. "So you better stay true to your word and cook more. How did you get these ingredients anyways?"

"I had help from a few friends," he says, a glint in his eyes. "In fact, human world ingredients aren't as scarce as you may think they are here in the Devildom - a few cafes and restaurants serve human world cuisine as appetizers since many demons enjoy them. But compared to Devildom, Celestial, and, well - a human's soul itself - your dishes are almost immediately digested and we easily get hungry after that."

"I see," you smile, always enjoying the way Satan elaborates on topics. "You should take me to some of these places."

"Get better first," he says firmly but sweetly. Satan moves closer, pushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear as you lean for another spoonful of soup. "Do you need anything else?"

"I was hoping you'd say that," you smile and reach for the book on the tray, weakly waving it in front of him. "Read to me?" 

"Of course," Satan smiles and transfers to your side, lifting the tray with ease as you move to give him space. He places the tray on both of your laps and sits right against the bed.

"Now then," he whispers and presses a brief and chaste kiss on your temple while opening the book to its first page. "Let us begin."

Beelzebub

Beelzebub loosens his tight arms around you as you shift awake, visible discomfort etched on your face. The large demon frowns and reluctantly lays his arms down as you wiggle out of the comforter wrapped tightly around you. When you open your eyes, your face softens and all discomfort from the heat fades away.

"Beel?" you call, genuinely confused at the sight of him beside you. 

"I'm sorry," he whispers apologetically. "I know I shouldn't have, but you started shivering so I..." Beelzebub trails sheepishly as he starts to move aside. However, you catch his arm and weakly pull him back close to no hesitation.

"No," you croak. "I was just surprised to see you beside me, that's all. Don't leave."

Beelzebub smiles sweetly and carefully wraps his arms around you in another tight hug, leaving the comforter to the side this time. His eyes are a mixture of adoration and worry as he wipes off the sweat accumulated on your forehead and nose.

"Are you hungry?" he asks, pushing back a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "I made porridge." 

"Yes, but," you frown and Beel tilts his head. "I don't want to leave this position yet. I've never felt so safe and warm."

Beelzebub flashes another sweet smile and caresses your cheek with the back of his hand - briefly yet endearingly - before lifting it in the air afterward. You watch as a soft and sparkling orange glow dance around his hand, a small "woah" escaping your lips in awe. A few seconds later, you hear a small rattle by your dresser and turn your head, watching as a bowl and spoon, both wrapped in the same orange glow, fly from the drawer towards the bed.

"Sometimes I forget you all are demons with magical powers," you whisper. "Especially you, you've never done anything flashy like this before."

"Lucifer banned me from using magic whenever I wanted something to eat," he says, a chuckle escaping his lips. "But I think he'll allow this time since I'm not the one eating."

Beel sits up then gently cradles you against his chest. Another sweet smile draws on his lips as he looks down at you - small and cute against his large chest - and hugs you tightly. However, before you could react, Beelzebub slowly drops his arms to the side, frowning as he suddenly remembers that you were a fragile human, in the process of recovering, and he was a large demon with massive strength.

"You're so small and too cute," he frowns and takes the floating spoon. "Please eat and get better soon."

"Don't worry, Beel. You saw me sweating, right? That means I'm getting a lot better," you say kindly and take the spoonful of soup from his hand. "Please keep hugging me. I'll tell you if it's too tight or too hot, okay?"

It takes a few seconds but Beel nods and hugs you once again, watching you eat with a gentle focus.

"Do you want some?" you ask and on cue, you hear a loud grumble from Beel's stomach. The large demon blushes shyly but shakes his head nonetheless. 

"I'll eat after you," he says solemnly and blushes a faint pink a few seconds later when another grumble erupts.

"Here," you offer him a spoonful to which he takes after a moment of hesitation. "When was the last time you ate anyways?"

"Twelve hours ago," he mumbles with a frown and gently takes the spoon from your hand. "You're really amazing..."

"What do you mean?" 

"Even when you're sick, you're still taking care of me..." 

"I don't think it's as amazing as you may think it is," you whisper, feeling your cheeks grow warmer despite your recovery. "I know you'd do the same for me, Beel. Besides, I don't think I can finish this."

"What?" Concern washes over the awe in Beel's face. "But you said you were getting better..."

"I am!" you say quickly and cup his face, caressing his cheeks assuringly. "I am. It's just when we humans get sick, we lose our usual appetite."

"You already don't eat much in the first place..." he whispers. "Are you sure you're full? Please don't worry about me, we demons don't get sick."

"I promise," you drop your hands and lean forward to kiss his cheek sweetly. When you pull away, Beel touches his cheek absent-mindedly, the worry melting into shy happiness. "Please help yourself. I don't want your food to go to waste."

"Alright," Beel nods. You watch him reach for the small bowl and inhale the porridge in one gulp, chuckling at the sight - did you really expect less from the Avatar of Gluttony himself? He lifts his free hand, the same orange glow wraps around it, and a glass of water and small packet of medicine fly towards you.

"Please drink your medicine and water then," he says after wiping his mouth. "Lucifer said you should drink it immediately after eating."

"You should go and eat more," you say while complying, placing the tablet on your tongue before pushing it down with water. Beel swipes his hand - the floating objects flying back on top of the dresser - then carefully wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace.

"You said you didn't want to leave this position," he whispers and presses a chaste kiss on your forehead. "So, I'm not leaving."

"But you're hungry," you frown but shift closer against his chest.

"I am, but," Beel wraps his arms tighter around your body and rests his face against the mop of your hair, inhaling your scent - I'd rather know you're healthy. "Food tastes better when you're around. So, get rest, okay?"

You smile and flutter your eyes close, "Okay."

If you enjoyed, please leave a comment or like... or follow... quq

[s-creations]

In Sickness, In Health Chapter 6 - Getting Shots

Fandom: DuckTales 2017 / The Three Caballeros             Rating: General Audience             Relationships/Pairings:  José Carioca/Donald Duck/Panchito Pistoles       Additional Tags: getting sick, being cared for, mental health, injury, sore throat, common cold, chicken pox, broken bones, whooping cough, taking care of others.

Part of a Series Called: We’re the Three- Sorry, Six Caballeros!

If there was one thing that Louie absolutely hated, it was the doctors. Not just the professional person alone, not just the freezing cold office, everything associated with the medical field was just terrible. Sure, this wasn’t too much of a new revelation for any child to have this stance. But for Louie, it was a living nightmare. 

 It had been drilled into him how terrible his immune system was. How to never get messy, how the cold/flu season was almost a death sentence for him, and the slightest hint of a cough had Louie sent to the doctor’s office.  It was often teased in the family that Louie had seen the doctor more than any adult, ever. One that the green cladded duckling grew tired of quickly. 

 But if asked what part he truly hated about every experience, it was the shots. Louie was sure he could recall every prick to the skin. No matter what Huey’s ‘research’ says about forming memories at a certain age. 

 It was the same thing when the dreaded time arrived. When he was younger, Louie would cry the entire time. Leading up to, getting it, and hours afterwards, he wailed so loudly. No one was able to calm him down. As if to ensure everyone was as absolutely miserable as he was. Rising in age, Louie would attempt to pull any stunt he could to get out of the appointment. Lying, bribing, even hiding away in hopes to miss the appointment. But nothing worked. 

 The days after were just as bad as getting the darn thing. Because the ‘entry point’ would always become bruised. Black, blue, yellow and absolutely nasty looking. The arm would also become sore, almost painful to move. Eventually getting so bad that the shot would have to be injected into the duckling’s non-dominant arm. Just so he could still do something while he was recovering. 

 Nothing made the experience better. His favorite meal didn’t help. Being pampered while he was recovering didn’t help. Bribes of his favorite treats, snacks, whatever could be offered didn’t help. All were at wit’s end on how they were supposed to reach a workable solution.

 That was until José brought the situation up to his co-workers. Namely, the mother’s.

 “Have you tried distracting him?” Amanda asked over breakfast. 

 “He is already in a negative mood to really pull his attention away. Even then, he already knows where we are going. I do not know what to do.”

 “...What about video games?”

 José raised a brow. “They are a bit young…”

 “I gave my little girl a handheld video game. She loves it! And there are so many kid friendly games. I know you said Louie has a clever little mind. Very strategic. There’s a really famous game that involves battling with these little creatures.”

 José scooted closer to look at Amanda’s phone. “It is very...colorful. And a lot of little creatures.”

 “If you could, get him really involved with the game before you even put him in the car. He’ll be so focused on that game that he won’t even feel the prick.”

 José wasn’t fully sold on it. He knew it was hard to pull Louie’s attention away from items he knew to keep it on. But the parrot knew better than to toss aside help. He ran it past his partners first. Donald was a little apprehensive, but had the same thought process as José. If it was a way to help Louie, what did they have to lose? 

 It was the night before the next appointment that the present was presented. The triplets were each given their own handheld game system and a single game. Each were so thrilled to receive new toys. Discussing what each game had to offer and what they had found in the version they were playing. They went to bed a few hours later. Excitedly whispering about what they would discover the next day. 

 “Not one mention of the appointment tomorrow.” Panchito whispered cheerfully once they were safely away from the room. 

 “The big hurdle will be getting him in the car tomorrow.” Donald argued.

 The parrot gave a gentle nip to both of their necks. “Do not fret. I have an idea.”

 The morning was filled with sugary cereal and more video games. Talk and overall atmosphere dropped quickly when José walked in, keys in hand. “Alright Louie, we need to get going.”

 Louie was instantly pulled away from his game. “Going? Where are we going?”

 “You have your appointment this morning.” Huey offered helpfully.

 That caused Louie to turn a little pale, eyes widening. “...I don’t feel well.”

 José gave a smile, gently placing a hand on the duckling’s shoulders. “They it is a good thing we are going to the doctor’s office.” 

 It was the easiest time to get Louie into the car. Possibly because he knows there’s no way to break from freedom. He stares out the window, strapped into the car and heading towards his doom. 

 “So, how has your game been?” José asked.

 Louie twitched slightly at the question, looking at the electric device still in his hands. “Um...it’s fine.”

 “Can you tell me about it? It looks complicated.”

 The duckling started speaking softly at first. But eventually picked up volume and speed. José added his own questions to keep Louie going. When they arrived at the office, the nerves entered in Louie’s voice again. The parrot quickly caught this, easily picking the duckling up, continuing the conversation easily.

 Louie was caught between fear and wanting to show his skills at his new game. He realized that he felt better and far less stressed when he was talking. So he pressed on. Happily jumping onto each question that José offered him. He gripped onto the parrot’s shirt as they checked in and waited to be called back. José easily understood that Louie didn’t want to be let go. The parrot kept the conversation going. That quickly came to the halt again when Louie’s name was called out. José easily moved them back towards the room. 

 They were in the final stretch now. Louie had instantly become quiet, staring ahead as they waited for the doctor to arrive. José did what he could to pull Louie back towards the conversation, only for the silence to stretch on. Which only became worse when the doctor walked in. 

 “Good morning Louie,” The doctor said with a smile. The duckling didn’t reply. “Don’t worry, we’ll make this quick.”

 Still nothing.

 José gave a sideways glance to the doctor. Who smiled and nodded. “So Louie, your uncle here told me you got a new game! Have to say, that series is my favorite as well.” 

 “Series? It’s a series?” That pulled Louie back out. 

 “Oh yeah, the first one came out when I was 10. That version was a lot different from where it is now. Did you know that the Ghost-Type moves actually counted as physical?”

 “Wait, really, how? They’re ghosts!”

 José said nothing, just watching as Louie and the doctor interacted. It was as Louie was discussing the craziness of how the original game play was done when he was given the shot. The duckling more focused on the extreme eye roll as the craziness than what the doctor was doing. Completely ignored by the duckling. Who had now turned the talk towards his favorite type.

 “Alright, you’re good to go!” The doctor happily announced, placing a bandaid over the point. 

 “Wait, what?” Louie raised his arm before looking at José.

 “Just remember to move your arms around. It will help!” the doctor continued on, “Make sure to set up your next appointment before you leave.”

 Louie was still quietly looking up at José with awe as they left. Making no noise until they were on the road. “How did you do that?”

 The parrot smiled. “Painful things become less so when you are not focused on it. And you tend to overly focus on things you do not like. We thought talking about something you really like will help you not panic. How does your arm feel?”

 Louie instantly beamed. “It feels great!”

[thebibliosphere]

I don't want to stress you out so feel free to just delete my message if this is a topic you're avoiding! I was wondering how you're handling all the panic around coronavirus. I'm immunocompramised and even 'the common cold' will knock me on my ass for weeks and the only reassurance I'm hearing is that it doesn't kill healthy people. I'm trying to reassure myself that people are more likely to wash their hands& the like during the outbreak, but I was hoping you might share some thoughts?

Immunocompromised solidarity fist bump. I too am only just now getting back on my feet after the cold I caught two weeks ago, and I do mean back on my feet in a very literal sense. That shit knocked me six ways from Sunday and now suddenly people are telling me it’s March. Amazing.

That said, when it comes to coronavirus, I’m treating it like every flu season. Which is to say, the usual annual fear and preparedness that comes from being immunocompromised and surrounded by privileged, healthy people who don’t seem to understand the importance of handwashing and covering their mouths when they cough or sneeze all of the time, not just when we’re facing a possible global pandemic.

What I am having to factor in now, however, is other people’s panic, and the fact that healthy and able-bodied people are buying up medical supplies that disabled and chronically ill people need to use, sometimes on a daily basis, despite the fact that things like paper face masks really won’t protect them from something like the COVID-19 virus, not least of all because they don’t know how to use them, and don’t know how to take them on and off without the risk of contamination. Same with vogmaks. Vogmasks should never be used to prevent the spread of illness, firstly because their filter doesn’t work that way (it’s not small or well fitted enough) and secondly because as a reusable mask, it’s a high risk of contamination every time you put it on, especially given that vogmask comes with a fitted filter, and washing the mask renders the filter into mulch. So using a vogmask in a contagion type situation is highly not recommended, and if one has to be used, it should be discarded immediately afterward. This hasn’t stopped people from panic buying them in droves, however, and as of March 2nd 2020 the official store is still out of stock, meaning that people like myself who need them to go outside due to pollen and air pollutant risks aren’t able to get our hands on them. Heck, we can’t even get our hands on regular paper masks, and the ones that are available are selling on Amazon for $200 a pop and are not properly made and are not certified medical grade. Fuck, even my SIL’s hospital where she works is running out of masks, all because people are panic buying.

Which sure was the long way round of me saying, I’m more pissed than worried.

Oh sure I’m worried, but no more so than I am for usual cold and flu season because every year is a potential risk to my health and longevity of life. And while I think some worry is healthy and entirely understandable, I also think it’s important not to let it escalate to full-blown “gargling with bleach” panic, which yes, is apparently a thing people are asking google if you should do. Cause, y’know, can’t catch coronavirus if you’re dead...

Being alert and aware is good, being prepared is good, and sure, it’s probably a good idea to make sure you’ve got some extra meals in the freezer and an extra package of two of toilet paper in the house just in case all of humanity grinds to a halt for a few weeks. (also stock up on any meds you might need) But I’m also not lying awake at night worried about it. I’m far too busy lying awake at night worried about my own body and the things it’s capable of all on its own. So yeah, am I more at risk from something like COVID-19? Yes. Am I worried about it? Yes. Do I find it completely callous, ableist and utterly monstrous to hear able-bodied and healthy people saying things like “don’t worry, it’s only going to kill the weak”, abso-fucking-lutely. I’m legit one more comment like that away from drowning a motherfucker. 

But I’m also trying very hard not to let panic and fear rule my life. Which is basically how I’ve been living for the last 5 years anyway if I’m honest. It’s so very, very easy at the moment to look around and be consumed by terror, and if I’m honest, it happens to me at least ten times a day before I’m able to reel it back in and do what I can about it. Which in this instance, is taking care of myself, and taking a few extra precautions here and there to avoid potential sickness.

So yeah, I don’t know if any of this is reassuring, cause honestly, I’m not sure how to reassure myself sometimes. But I also acknowledge that anxiety and stress take a toll on my immune system, and I need to do what I can to stay calm and not weaken an already fragile vessel any further. So I’m taking my meds, I’m practicing good hygiene habits, I’m avoiding people where possible, and generally just trying to live my life as safely and as best I can in a world where people cite the death of people like me as an acceptable statistic provided they make it out all right. Sad, pissed, and resolved to outlive every one of the motherfuckers if it’s the last thing I do.  

Take care of yourself. I know you will, but take extra care of yourself. Be kinder than usual, allow yourself to rest more, stock up on your meds if you can, get some extra food in the freezer so you don’t have to expend energy going grocery shopping. And toilet paper. Trust me, you never want to run out of toilet paper while in self-imposed quarantine. 

[ashleyswrittenwords]

Frogs, Fevers, and Forehead Kisses

My titles are getting more unimaginative by the day.

----------

“Her Royal Highness requested that we test the specimen she found by Death Mountain.”

The princess’s knight attendant looked between the Sheikah scientists with growing confusion, the overly respectful distance only increased his worry. Robbie and Purah inched further away as if he were a grizzly bear still debating whether he wanted to eat them.

“I don’t understand,” his brow furrowed, “Is the princess okay?”

“Oh, yes,” Robbie waved him off. “Mere symptoms.”

His heart dropped, “Symptoms? Of what?”

“Link,” Impa said crisply from behind the two. He couldn’t see her face from behind Robbie, but that sternness was unmistakable. “In the frog, Purah found a strain of the flu that was thought to be extinct.”

“Is,” he tried to swallow the dread in his throat. “Is she in danger?” Hylia, it had to be the frog, didn’t it? After incessant pleads from Princess Zelda, he quickly learned he didn’t have the strength to deny her for long. That night they roasted it over a fire with as much seasoning as he could find, then they shared it and he was bombarded with her scientific analysis.

Did he feel any more energetic? No.

Could he see any better in the dark? No.

Was he ill or queasy? Not any more than one would be when they eat a charred amphibian.

And, if he were being honest, it wasn’t that bad. The spices definitely helped with the taste, though Link doubted he would do it again on his own volition.

“Historically, no,” Purah inserted, adjusting her glasses, “Unless you are a specific subrace of Hylian, the host will only experience common flu symptoms from seven to fourteen days – which is the apparent case with Zelda.”

An itch started in his sinuses and he tried to ignore it.

“And what would happen if that specific person were affected?”

“Oh, I can answer that!” Robbie pointed his chin up, airy in his demeanor. “The Sheikah would experience symptoms such as vomiting, pneumonia, and subsequent death.”

The itching came to a head and Link sneezed loudly into his elbow, leaving Impa to yelp and run down the hall. “Send him away! Goddesses, send the infested child away!”

Purah pursed her lips, “Ah, she means we have to isolate you and the princess.”

---

They had been in the same room for two days now, which wasn’t out of the ordinary. Princess Zelda had been his charge for nearly a year. However, it had never been like this. Neither of them were allowed to leave the room nor interact with anyone that wasn’t already infected – and that was restricted to Link and Zelda.

The room was isolated in the west wing due to the lesser populated halls and, until their isolation, was meant exclusively for storage. A large bed had been moved in for the princess and a smaller cot for her knight. Other than that, the room was barren and the essentials were brought up and left by the door where he was only allowed to open it once the servant had left. It wasn’t long until the castle realized the top physicians were all Sheikah of origin who feared the possible levels of contagion.

Upon his arrival, it was obvious that Zelda had been taking the brunt of the illness. The princess was already burrowed within the quilts of her new bed with a heated fever. So, through the mahogany of the door, it was decided that Link would be her main caretaker and communicate her vitals every morning.

A knock at the door snapped Link out of his daydreaming haze and he approached it.

“Yes?”

The voice was muffled yet unquestionably regal, “How is she?”

Link gave a passing glance to the girl resting in her bed and lowered his voice, “She’s resting now, Your Majesty.”

King Rhoam sighed, “I suppose it is for the better. You’re a decent lad, Link. Look after her.”

“I’ll let the princess know you came by.”

Receding footsteps signified the king’s departure. Link turned to the sleeping form under the quilts. The princess had woken up a half hour ago, shuddering from a cold that wasn’t there. He found himself being drawn to her without needing to be. With the covers drawn to her chin, her hair formed a halo around her in tangled blonde strands. Audible breaths came from her slightly parted lips and her cheeks were flushed pink with fever. Link’s rather sleepy expression upturned.

Gently, he leaned down onto the mattress. With one hand, he smoothed down the short hairs that so often fell in her face and pressed his lips to her forehead.

It was a quick show of affection and as quickly as he had indulged, he moved away to rest his exhausted head on the cot.

After all, he was sick too.

 ---

Four days into isolation, the princess learned she couldn’t read for long in her condition. With a lantern wicking from her bedpost, her knight had taken up the task by sitting in a chair that looked older than his father. At her bedside, he read through a novel about a milk maid who decided she wanted to travel the world and fell in love with a highwayman. Now they were at the part where she was cornered by ruffians and this masked crusader rides in on his midnight stallion. With one raise of his sword-

“You have a nice voice,” Zelda interrupted him. He glanced up from the book to see her quietly watching him, her cheek flush with the pillow below her.

“It’s the fever talking,” he simply said, caught between the magnifying green of her eyes and the following words of the novel.

She made a small motion, “No, I mean it. I want to hear what’s going to happen next, but at the same time it’s like I’m being lulled to sleep.” Then, almost predictably, she fell into a heavy cough that haunted her when she spoke too much. Link knew it sounded worse than it really was, but it made him wince regardless, “I think that means we should get some sleep.”

A whine came from the bed, “It does not!”

“It’s already late and you need to build up your strength.”

“Link, please?” Zelda paused him as he stood. There was that look again. The look that got them in this mess in the first place. Just as he was going to deny her a final time, she hurriedly said, “I’ll fall asleep if you keep reading. And tomorrow we can read over where I fell asleep so I don’t miss anything.”

Link closed his eyes, relenting and falling back into the chair. “Fine.”

She smiled to herself and briefly he thought that if she stood in the middle of battlefield with that face, she could stop a war.

He read for an hour. The highwayman had revealed himself to the former milk maid and she gasped. It was the blacksmith’s son who she had been betrothed to since they were young. She hadn’t seen him in years and fearing her reaction, he ran from her. Link let his voice trail off.

The princess didn’t budge. Her arm hung off the bed in slumber. Slowly, in case the chair decided to creak, Link rose and set the novel on the seat. He took her forearm gingerly and tucked it into the pile of covers. Although her smile was gone, the relaxed expression she wore affected him all the same. Impulsion took over and he brushed her hair aside and kissed above her brow.

Then, uneventfully, he blew the lantern out.

 ---

Six days of isolation passes by and now there is splashing water.

“Link, don’t look.”

“I’m not looking.”

“I know, but just… don’t look.”

“I’m not looking!”

The tub was in the center of the room and Link was buried under a blanket. He heard a loud slosh and then water dripping into the tub. Zelda sighed from the other side of the room, finally feeling clean after almost a week. It seemed as if they were on a scale. The healthier Zelda seemed to get; the more ill Link seemed to fall. Some of her blankets were transferred over to his small cot.

“Alright,” she finally said, “I’m dressed now.”

Groaning, he sat up. Link felt every bit as awful as he looked. His hair was in disarray and tissues covered his surroundings. “I don’t think I need to bathe.”

Zelda stared incredulously, “You must.”

“I don’t want to.”

She wore a simple day gown that was so soft that she could sleep in it if needed. “It’ll make you feel better.”

His eyes drooped in her direction, “Nothing can.” Then, he let himself fall to the cot.

The princess crossed the room, eyes rolling but concern glinting, “Don’t be dramatic.” From behind, she pulled him up to a seat and, gods, was he heavy.  As she whispered small encouragements, he let her pull him to a wobbly stand and towards the tub. The water was bubbly and he looked at her with absent accusation.

And bashfully, she admitted it, “I prefer bubble baths.”

Link didn’t say anything and simply stared.

“What?” Zelda felt suddenly insecure.

Tiredly, he drew in a breath, “I have to undress, Princess.”

“Oh!” she spun on her heel, face aflame. “Right.”

Clothes were heard being discarded and she could make out his tired voice, “Zelda, don’t look.”

“Oh, shush.”

He laughed and the water moved as he got in. The water was still steaming when she got out and it no doubt felt nice on his skin. And, quite unfortunately, the thought practically returned the thick blush of a fever. Busying herself with the book about the milk maid, she looked through the parts she never got the chance to read herself. He had finished the book for her last night and as she skimmed the pages, she could hear his voice read the words.

“I liked this book,” she said with a passing breeze in her tone. He hummed, “I think I did too.”

A smile played on her lips, “What was your favorite part?”

Link thought for a moment, “When you would grip the covers whenever the highwayman was in danger.”

Afterward, Zelda listened as he dunked his head underwater.

“Zelda,” he sounded frustrated. “I… I can’t reach my head.”

“What?”

“Whenever I try to wash my hair, I feel like passing out. And I really don’t want to pass out in water.”

She blinked at the wall, “Do you want me to wash your hair?”

“You don’t have to. I just don’t want you to yell at me when you see that my hair is still greasy.”

“Can I wash your hair for you?”

A beat of silence went by and then, “… I suppose.”

Zelda took the back of the old chair at her bedside and dragged in over, careful to not look at the tub unless absolutely necessarily. At most, she glanced at the wood. Link sat with his back to her. Thankfully, the bubble bath was an ingenious invention because the only thing she could see was the midpoint of his torso and his knees jutting out of the water. Even if she stared, she probably couldn’t spy anything… not that she would, that is.

“Hand me the soap,” she gently commanded as she sat.

He did and she ran a hand experimentally through a portion of his hair. The locks were wet and free, partially stuck to his neck. She spilled a generous amount of shampoo on her hand and lathered it between her palms. Then she began to entangle her fingers in his scalp and brushed.

“You didn’t touch your soup last night or today,” she stated plainly, “That’s why the heat is getting to you.”

“I wasn’t hungry,” it sounded more like a weak complaint. The princess bit the inside of her cheek and tried unsuccessfully not to look down at the water running along his neck. Admittedly, he was very pretty to look at – from behind, at least. Zelda was a simple woman, she appreciated the male physique, and his back muscles were very appreciable.

Her fingers were tender and forgiving in hair that hadn’t been properly brushed in days. So much so, that he leaned into her touch. When they found a tangled knot, she worked at it without pulling until it came free. Far too soon, she pulled away.

“Okay,” Zelda pronounced. “Dunk into the water and I’ll shake the soap out.”

He nodded, sidling into the water until fully submerged. Tautly, she ran her hands through his hair and laughed as bubbles of soap and his breath came to the surface. Eventually he came back up, breathing in air.

“Thank you.”

She nodded without him seeing and went back to the book while he scrubbed up. Once he was dressed, he allowed her to know and she turned with a question on her lips, “Would you prefer the bed? I wouldn’t mind sleeping on the cot if it meant you were warmer.”

Even then, she watched him shiver out a tentative no.

“You need it more,” Link straightened out the blanket on the cot.

“That’s not true,” she moved to the edge of the bed. “I don’t have a fever anymore. You do.”

He shook his head and croaked out, “I’m fine.”

“We can share it. It’s big enough, Link.”

Of course, he hesitated. It was a large bed with comfortable pillows and a mass of quilts. Not to mention, an inviting princess looking at him with doe eyes. But…

Zelda sat with her legs tucked under her, “The door’s locked. No one would find out.”

He let go of the cot’s blanket and walked to the bed; she smiled and pulled back the covers on his side. Without words, they rearranged the pillows so she wouldn’t hoard them all and Zelda reached for the lantern.

“Goodnight, Link.”

“Goodnight, Zelda.”

For the first time in their isolation, Link didn’t dare continue his routine of sneaking forehead kisses once she was asleep. He was far too tired and the newfound comfort of a proper mattress with all too enticing. Although, as he floating into a dream, he could have sworn someone had cupped his cheek and warm lips kissed his forehead.

[themummersfolly]

So you’re getting the covid vaccine

You’ve finally gotten a hold of the health department, nailed down that elusive appointment, and the big day’s almost here. You may have a lot of questions: what will the site look like? Who else will be there? How will I feel afterwards? You may be excited; you may be nervous (and your conspiracy theorist family member hasn’t been helping).

I’m going to try to lay some of your concerns to rest. I’ve been working at my state’s vax sites for about a month at the time of writing; my information won’t apply to all states and it’s very unlikely to apply outside the US, but it may help you get your bearings and make the whole thing less alien and intimidating.

The site is likely to be run by state or county health departments, or by a local hospital, but it may not be located at a healthcare facility, depending on the number of patients they usually get. High-volume sites tend to be set up wherever they can find room for a thousand people and their cars; some of ours are hosted by sports stadiums and shopping malls. Pop-up sites are also a possibility, and will probably become more common as younger people are brought into phase. These are sent out to places like industrial sites and college campuses to get shots to people where they are. 

Most of the sites I’ve worked at are drive-thru, some take foot traffic. Almost all require you to make an appointment. (I can’t help you much with the appointment side of things; that differs significantly from state to state. Best to google it or call your local health department.) If you have an appointment but aren’t familiar with the site, drive by it ahead of time. See for yourself what you’re heading into. If they’re not too busy, stop and talk to some of the site personnel. Ask them if there’s a particular way they want you to enter from; many sites have a single flow of traffic with one entry and one exit, while others (like the one I’m at right now) are set back in a rabbit warren of back streets, half of which will be blocked off on a busy day. Scout ahead; we appreciate you being prepared. Ask questions; I guarantee I’ve answered much dumber ones.

A note on drive-thru sites: please be on your game when you’re driving. You’ll most likely be driving through tight spaces with pedestrians and other cars very close by. Know where the corners of your car are, and be able to tell your gas pedal from your brake. It sounds petty to harp on these things, but I spend my days dealing with people who straight up can’t. Keep your head on a swivel, as we say. Please don’t be that person who plows into a concrete barrier or, God forbid, one of my buddies. If you’re not comfortable driving in cramped, low speed conditions, please try to find someone to drive you. At the very least, have someone drop you off; even drive-thru sites will accommodate a walk-up if you have an appointment.

Now that you’re at the vax site, who can you expect to meet? A lot of other patients, obviously; you can’t receive the vaccine if you’re currently sick, so you shouldn’t be at an elevated risk of catching anything from the people around you. However, people will occasionally get in line thinking it’s a testing site (which they generally won’t seek out unless they’re sick) and you always have the risk of silent carriers, so it’s best to maintain a distance and mask up as applicable. 

Most sites are going to be staffed by employees of the hospital or health department running the event; depending on where you are, the National Guard may also have been deployed to assist. At my site, we have a mix of National Guard, State Guard, and Health Department staff working all positions: three of our medics are military, while on a busy day the Health Department's dentist will come out an help me direct traffic. Don’t be intimidated by the uniforms; we don’t have any authority beyond parking you in the right spot, and I don’t think any state arms their covid-response teams. And don’t thank us for our service; it’s awkward, annoying, and we’d much rather you just wear your mask and not hit us with your car. 

There may be cops onsite, depending on how bad traffic congestion is and/or how many belligerent boomers they’re expecting. (Seriously, that’s who causes the majority of our problems. If somebody’s going to start trouble, nine times out of ten it’ll be an old white person with a shit ton of money.) I wish I could say that none of them are the kind to go looking for trouble, but unfortunately I’ve known too many cops - it only takes one to ruin it for everybody. For the most part, though, this is going to be an easy-money type of assignment for them, and if they’re not in their patrol cars they’re probably gossiping with the National Guard.

 As you get up to the actual clinic, someone is going to approach you to take down your medical information. If you’re on foot, they may hand you the forms to fill out; if it’s a drive thru site, they’ll probably ask you the questions and write down your answers. This won’t take long; most sites streamlined their process while they were doing testing last year. To avoid clerical errors, a good practice is to hold up your ID and have them copy your name and address, especially if English isn’t your first language or you speak a noticeably different dialect of English.

Ok, so you’ve located the site, braved the traffic, made it past Corporal Snuffy with his clipboard, sat in The Line That Time Forgot, and now you’ve finally reached it: the Gleaming Needle of Destiny. What will the shot itself be like? Practically speaking, not all that different from the average flu shot. A quick poke in the arm, a bandaid that you don’t really need, and then you go wait 15-30 minutes to make sure you aren’t allergic to it. My buddy and I just finished our course of the Pfizer; neither the first nor the second shot gave me more than a sore arm, but my buddy got a mild fever after the second one and didn’t feel well for about 24 hours afterward. Both are normal reactions. It’s best to plan your second dose so you have some time to recover in case you do have an immune response; better to have it and not need it. However, if you break out in hives, get an itching throat, or show any other symptoms of an allergic reaction, this is not normal and you should flag one of us down immediately. Walk up to somebody, beep the horn - whatever you have to do to get our attention. You are surrounded not only by medical personnel, but by bored soldiers with a shit ton of first aid training and visions of lifesaving and glory. We will be more than willing to help you.

Once you’ve received the shot but before you’re sent off to Observation (Interminable Wait #2), you’ll receive a card with your vaccination info on it. If you do not receive one, go back and pester them until they give you one. This is your proof of vaccination; do not throw it out. If you want to get on a plane you may be required to present it as proof of not being a plague rat, and at any rate you’ll want it for your medical record. Some places may put a date on there for your second shot and use it as proof of appointment; others may require you to go make the second appointment on your own. Double check which the case is. You most likely will be getting the two-shot vaccine, either Pfizer or Moderna. I don’t know of any sites that are doing Johnson+Johnson; they seem to be encountering a bunch of PR problems already, so I don’t know how widespread that one will get. Just make sure if you are scheduling your own second appointment that you get the same vaccine type as you got for the first one; getting one Pfizer and one Moderna will result in neither being effective. The scheduling website should be set up so you can’t do that, but just double check; trust but verify. And by the way, the second shot isn't formulated any different frim the first one. It's the same exact thing in the syringe, your body just has to see it twice to be able to use it.

And that’s it! After about fifteen or thirty minutes we will have established that you aren’t going to swell up like a character from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and we’ll turn you loose upon the world. Go home, take a nap and/or some motrin for that sore arm, and then feel free to add your experiences to this post!