#fantasy sickfic

[nat-1-whump]

🌿 Whump for elves

Fantasy whump ideas no. 4

(Note that I'm going with the stereotypical foresty elves, but they vary a lot by setting so don't be afraid to play around with them. Sorry for basically disappearing for weeks. I just graduated high school and it was... a time. I'll start working on more writing prompts soon! 💖)

Longevity is a curse. Elf Whumpee can live for hundreds or even thousands of years. Everyone they care about, they will outlive. So, they avoid getting too close to people. The less you love, the less you grieve. Their long lifespan also means that they can suffer for a very long time, perhaps captured by an immortal Whumper who even they cannot hope to outlive. Maybe Whumper doesn't even reveal that they're immortal, so Elf Whumpee spends decades waiting for their captor to die before realizing that it's not going to happen.

Ears. Elf Whumpee is super sensitive to sound. Whumper uses this to their advantage, blasting their eardrums out with a whistle only they can hear, maybe using it as a way to control them in public. Their ears are also a very obvious indicator of their nature. Maybe they've had to chop them off to disguise in a place that is not kind to elves. Every now and then they trace the scarred edges of their ears, wishing they could have them back, but knowing they never will.

Connection to nature and magic. Elf Whumpee has a special connection to those things and the place they call home. Deprived of it, they feel themselves withering away like a flower in a dark room. Maybe they were captured and brought to a lifeless land of concrete and metal. Whumper taunts them by putting wires and metal pipes in ceramic flower pots around Elf Whumpee's cell.

Alcohol. Elf Whumpee has little to no alcohol tolerance. They try a pint of strong Dwarven alcohol at a party and end up a crying, shaking mess on the bathroom floor. Everyone is laughing at them and they feel incredibly sick and embarrassed.

Loneliness and isolation. For whatever reason, elves are strongly looked down upon in society. Elf Whumpee has a hard time getting close to people when nobody wants to be seen near them. Or, their own pride keeps them distant from others. Either way, they have nobody to rely on. When they get hurt, they have no choice but to seclude themself, their hands shaking as they try to treat it alone. Maybe their injuries get worse and they have to drag themself to go beg for help, but nobody will listen.

[angstyaches]

Could u do another similar to the Valentine’s Day Drabble were it’s very fluffy and the person is embarrassed by there gas. There blushing and excusing themselves as there stomach rumbles also phrases like goodness! excuse me dear

or just excuse me or pardon. And my stomach is upset or disagreeing with me please.

I love ur blog have a gd day ♥️

Ahhh, I'm so nervous about this one because it's different and a little silly.

I wasn't sure how I felt about this request but I took some parts and combined when with an idea I already had brewing, I hope that's okay, anon!

Early(ish) Days Felix.

CW: vampire blood-drinking, fantasy elements, overindulgence, bloating, stomach noises, burping, embarrassment, intentional burping, mentions of previous nausea and lack of appetite etc.

___

“Hello,” Elliott said as he walked through the bedroom door.

“Hi,” Felix called out, hoping he didn’t sound as strained as he thought he did. He wanted to be excited that Elliott was finally home, but he wasn’t sure his body would let him.

The bed jostled as Elliott sat down to take off his shoes and, in turn, so did the warm, heavy lump of pressure in Felix’s belly. He felt his stomach walls tremble with the effort of holding that pressure in place, but instead of cramping or churning, it continued to just… sit there beneath his rib, but not before letting out an audible groan from under the duvet.

Elliott paused and straightened his back at the edge of the bed. An amused half-smile crossed his face as he turned his head. Felix’s belly didn’t exactly have a reputation for going about its day without making a peep, but more commonly, it was wracked with twisting pleas for sustenance, or the watery gurgles of nausea.

“Was that your stomach?” Elliott asked incredulously, as though part of him wondered if the sound had come from his own.

All the blood �� his own blood, that is – in Felix’s veins felt like it was rushing to his face and neck.

He nodded. "Pardon me."

“Are you alright?”

“Yes. I just… I may have pulled a you today.”

Elliott’s smile dimpled his cheeks. “A me?”

“Yes,” Felix said, savouring the chance to be cryptic for once.

“And what, pray tell, does that mean?” Elliott chuckled, bending at the waist again to continue unlacing his shoes. “More to the point, should I be flattered or offended right now?”

Felix winced as he watched his partner; Nancy had assured him it was almost impossible, but if Felix tried bending like that right about now, he would surely projectile vomit across the room.

He swallowed carefully at the thought, feeling a tiny bubble of pressure deep in his chest.

“I may have… over-indulged.”

Elliott sat up and glanced over his shoulder at Felix again – first, twisting to get a look at the swell of his belly, and then turning towards his face. He undoubtedly noticed the improvement in his colour; even Felix himself had noticed in the mirror earlier. Vampire starvation apparently took a while to take its toll, but could be remedied fairly quickly under the right circumstances.

“Over-indulged on…?” Elliott raised an eyebrow.

“Blood. Yes.”

“On a hunt?”

Felix nodded.

“Oh. Nice. Where did you go?”

“The woods.” Felix gave a light shrug. “You know geography isn’t my strong suit. I’m certain Ryan can fill you in the details…”

At the emergence of another deep, sluggish rumble, Felix flinched, an inexplicable shyness washing over him. He wasn’t sure if it was the relief that sparkled in the amber of Elliott’s eyes, or something else, that sparked a warm glow in his chest. He didn’t dare to hope that Elliott might be… proud of him? Or, at the very least, less worried about him than he usually had to be.

“I’m assuming Nancy gave you something for the nausea, then?”

“Yes,” Felix said, trying to brace himself for the wobble in the mattress as Elliott moved again. “It was incredible. Like night and day.”

Elliott finally kicked off his shoes and placed them to the side of his dresser. “Oh?”

“She gave me a tonic, which…” Felix paused as he listened to his own stomach churn, feeling its gently burbling movements inside. He smiled in Elliott’s direction to assure him he was okay. “I’m not quite certain, but I think it relaxed the muscles in my stomach. Have you heard of that?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“She and Ryan must have developed it recently then.”

Elliott scoffed. “Or I just never had need of it.”

“Fair enough, I suppose,” Felix grimaced. He was both very attracted to and envious of Elliott’s seemingly indestructible digestive system.

Then again, if there were any stories from Elliott’s transformation days that painted him in a less-than-indestructible light, Felix was sure he’d gone to lengths to make sure those stories were kept airtight.

“So, it worked?”

“Yes. Once everything relaxed, it…” Felix almost didn’t want to admit that today’s hunt – the adrenaline, the euphoria, the feeling that he was the strongest creature on the food chain – aligned uncannily with how Elliott had described it all along. “It felt… the way I assume it is supposed to feel.”

Instead of hitting him with an I told you so though, Elliott leaned on his elbow, bringing his face closer to Felix’s. His bergamot-heavy cologne made Felix’s head swim in the most delicious way.

“Amazing,” Elliott whispered, with an almost relieved warble to his voice. And maybe a touch of excitement, too? He looked like someone who had been the only one to know a secret for years and years, only to finally have someone to confide in about it. “Right?”

“Incredible, Elli.” Felix wished he had it in him to sound more enthusiastic about it. “Once my body was relaxed and I was in the right headspace, it was… honestly astonishing how hungry I ended up feeling.”

“Not that astonishing.” The spark in Elliott’s eyes dampened slightly. “You didn’t keep anything down for almost a week, boo.”

Felix chewed the inside of his lip at the pet name. Elliott must have caught himself using it too, because he lowered his chin slightly to hide the smile that twitched across his face.

He hummed low in his throat as he reclined into place on the bed, turning to place his head on the pillow beside Felix’s.

All of the movement made Felix’s weight shift on the mattress again, earning yet another groaning vibration from his stomach. Nancy had warned him that along with easing any potential nausea or cramps, the tonic would also slow down the digestive process, meaning he was in for a long night of lying on his back, more or less immobile, as he had been all evening.

He hadn’t been prepared for how exhausted he would feel once his stomach was satisfied. His muscles felt like cotton wool. It was an effort even for his arms to work against gravity right now, so he’d spent most of his horizontal time with his arms placed neatly by his sides.

Felix swallowed. He was just thinking about how nice it would be to have a hand on his content-yet-confused belly when Elliott reached out and placed – no, braced a hand gently on his side, as though in apology for all of the movement.

“Felix,” Elliott exclaimed as his fingers edged up the gentle swell that pushed through the duvet. “Jesus. How much did you drink exactly?”

“Gosh, like I said…” The tips of Felix’s ears burned with indignance, and he found himself gulping drily again. “I believe I experienced something similar to your… frenzies.”

If he was offended or perturbed at all by that, Elliott didn’t say or indicate so.

He peeled the duvet back, exposing the t-shirt that Felix’s abdomen was doing its best to escape from. Its rumbling was even more obvious – and consistent – now that there was no thick blanket to muffle it. His t-shirt had gotten bunched up as he’d gotten comfortable in bed, leaving the lower half of his abdomen exposed.

Felix pressed his lips together and swallowed harshly, his tired lungs shuddering just from holding his breath for a couple of seconds.

He frowned and watched the curve of his belly lift and press even harder against his clothes as he inhaled, hands slumped by his sides. His stomach felt like a sentient water balloon struggling about inside of him.

The warmth and the weight of Elliott’s hand was pleasantly reassuring, though.

"Pardon," he murmured when his stomach shifted noisily again.

Elliott shook his head in mild distaste. "You don't have to pardon yourself every time your stomach makes noise."

Felix disagreed with a silent grimace to himself.

“I am so delighted for you,” Elliott insisted. “The fact that you finally got to enjoy feeding? Felix, that is everything.”

A flutter in his chest allowed Felix to relax into a proper smile. “It is?”

“Absolutely.” Elliott paused to let Felix’s belly grumble into the silence of the room. He waited for a particularly high-pitched, bubbly gurgle to break up the deeper sounds before he frowned and asked, "Are you feeling alright?"

"Oh, gosh." Felix gulped. "Yes. Sorry. Pardon all of the... disturbance."

Felix squirmed as much as his lethargy would allow him. He found himself wishing his stomach would give it a rest now. Sure, maybe it’d been endearing at first – Elliott certainly seemed to think so – but this was getting ridiculous. It was also getting a little difficult to breathe without becoming painfully aware of his stomach pressing on his lungs.

He wasn’t in pain; in fact, there was something satisfying about feeling his stomach churn and groan and process such a huge amount of blood. He’d been empty, or close to it, for so long, his body so starved for blood that regular food was digested at an accelerated rate, leaving him with hunger pangs mere hours after having a full meal.

But this was… lingering. Satisfying. Something he’d started to doubt would ever be possible for him.

His train of thought was de-railed as Elliott put a single fingertip against his side. The soft, stretched-out flesh barely reacted as he applied the pressure, but as he pulled his finger back and released it, Felix’s tummy wobbled from side to side, acting a lot like the water balloon it felt like.

Felix hummed under his breath, feeling everything – everything – as his stomach trembled inside.

Another trickling gurgle ran through his belly. The impulse to swallow washed sluggishly over him, but before he could do anything about it, a soft burp tickled at the back of his throat, rolling out over his tongue.

"Oh... gosh," he squeaked.

Elliott’s hand splayed over the top of Felix’s stomach, stiff with surprise.

Eyes watering, Felix pinned his gaze on the ceiling. He wanted to cover his face with his hands, but his silly arms felt like jelly. It felt as though the world had shifted on its axis, landing him in an alternative reality where he held even less mystery in Elliott’s eyes. Besides the queasy ones that always found their way out during a vomiting session, he had never burped in front of Elliott before.  

This wasn’t fair. There was very little spasming in his belly or throat, so the gas had simply slipped out of him like it’d been pressed out by an outside force. There was just no room left for it.

“Par – pardon me,” Felix murmured as an afterthought.

“Sorry if that was my fault,” Elliott said. He lifted his hand from Felix’s belly. “Should I stop?”

Felix turned his head to look at Elliott’s idle hand and let out a resigned sigh. He was in for a penny, now; what difference would a pound make? “Do whatever you want, darling. It’s not as though there’s much I can do to stop you.”

“Wait. Are you angry with me?”

“What? No.”

“Something is wrong,” Elliott observed. “Are you sure you're feeling well? Are you in pain?”

“No.”

“Well, then, talk to me.”

“I had never…” Felix mumbled off the rest of his complaint, face blazing with heat. He was kind of grateful for the blush; at least Elliott would be able to tell that he was ashamed of what he'd done.

Elliott just stared blankly at him. “What?”

“Oh, my gosh. IhadneverburpedinfrontofyoubeforenandnowI’membarrassed,” Felix blurted out. “Alright?”

It was a half-truth; Elliott had heard Felix expel gas from his mouth more times than Felix was willing to recall, during his many vomiting sessions over the past few months. But this was different. He wasn't nauseous. He should have had more control over himself.

“Embarrassed?” Elliott chuckled like he'd been told an amazing joke. He smoothed a hand over Felix's arm. “Fee, you don’t ever have to be embarrassed with me. Especially not over this. I’ve burped around you lots of times.”

“No,” Felix complained miserably, “you haven’t.”

Elliott’s lips parted, as though he were about to give an example of a time when he had, but his eyes glazed over slightly as the gears turned in his head. “Well… perhaps I haven’t.”

Felix hummed in disappointment. He would have liked to be proven wrong.

“Give me a moment.”

Elliott raised his shoulder from the bed slightly, as though he were halfway into a sit-up. His defined stomach clenched visibly under the fabric of his shirt. He took the hand from Felix’s belly and curled it over the inward curve of his own. Then he inclined his chin and he pressed a little harder…

A low, swishing gurgle made Felix’s ears prick up.

Elliott opened his mouth to release a low, controlled belch, snapping his jaw shut as soon as he was done. Then he relaxed his shoulders into the bed again.

“There,” he said breezily, brushing his fingertips over his stomach muscles. “We’re even now.”

Felix could only gaze at his partner's face. His head didn't feel like it was going to burst into blame anymore, and the strained grumbling of his stomach didn't snag his attention quite as abruptly now.

There was just the two of them.

[the-duchess-of-domination]

Thanksgiving

here is a Thanksgiving fantasy to put you all in the mood.

your boyfriend is a people pleaser who has a hard time saying no. he fears disappointing people, and because of that you’ve got quite the line-up of Thanksgiving dinner invites: Friendsgiving with your mutual friends, Thanksgiving with his folks, Thanksgiving at your parent’s, a Thanksgiving dinner at his work. it’s a week long affair, and you’ve even got multiple dinners in one day with little time to recover. you slave away in the kitchen, making a new dish to bring to each dinner. your boyfriend, of course, is your taste tester.

the first dinner at your parent’s house is uneventful. this is his first holiday with your family, so he wants to make a good impression. he fervently eats anything that is put in front of him, and even though he doesn’t have room left for your mother’s sweet potato pie, he eats two slices.

the next day his work is having a Thanksgiving dinner. he brings you to meet his coworkers, and he wants to schmooze and charm them so much he takes a helping of Tanya’s mash potatoes, Carl’s filling, Genevieve’s green bean casserole. Not wanting to offend anyone, he fills a flimsy paper plate with so much food that it begins to bend. against all odds, every bite ends up in his rapidly tightening belly.

now it’s Thanksgiving Day, and you’ve got his family’s Thanksgiving in the early afternoon and your mutual Friendsgiving in the evening. your boyfriend’s mother gives him hearty scoops. that’s her little boy, after all. your boyfriend is noticeably petering out, but he doesn’t want to make his mother worry. he finishes his plate with an achingly full stomach, trained from the days of when he was a kid and wasn’t allowed to leave the dinner table without finishing his supper.

when it’s time for you to head to your Friendsgiving, you drive, and he sits in the passenger seat with his head against the headrest, wincing and cringing at every pothole you hit.

“you okay?” you ask him. “you’ve been awfully quiet.”

“yeah. just tired.” he lies.

at Friendsgiving, he listlessly plays with his turkey, pushing it around his plate with a fork, an elbow on the table and a hand supporting his head. while he doesn’t empty the plate, he hardly has anything to scrape into the trash.

when everyone retires to the living room, your boyfriend disappears. you search your friend’s house and see the bathroom door is closed. you knock.

“honey?” you say.

“hm?” your boyfriend replies.

“can i come in?”

“one sec.”

when you enter your boyfriend is sitting on the edge of the tub. he stands up quickly.

“what are you doing in here?” you ask.

“i just needed a minute.”

you look down to see a sliver of his white underwear. he zips up his fly, and sucks in his distended stomach to button his pants.

“are you okay?”

“yeah. it’s nothing. i just have a stomachache.”

you find this adorable. in an effort to get on everyone’s good side, to flatter them by eating their food, your boyfriend has given himself a terrible bellyache.

while your friends laugh over a card game at the coffee table, your boyfriend is distracted on the sofa, rubbing his stomach through the pocket of his hoodie. you put your hand in the pocket and start rubbing his belly, touching his cold hand with your warm one. his poor belly is hard and tight from everything he’s eaten in the past four days.

“does it hurt bad?” you whisper, and when he nods you say “do you want to leave early?”

he shakes his head. “we’re supposed to be having fun with our friends. i don’t want us to leave on my account.”

a mutual friend brings over a slice of pumpkin pie topped with whip cream. she offers it to your boyfriend. in horror you watch your boyfriend beam a fake smile and then graciously take the plate from her. the fork goes in his mouth. you feel his body shudder and his stomach growl angrily against your hand

what will Christmas bring?

[undercover-horn-blog]

Caretaking that is casual. Caretaking that's domestic.

You're sick, but it's just a cold. You're exhausted and sleepy, but it's nothing too serious either, so there's no need to worry.

So you're on the couch, sipping tea, trying to read, ending up just lying there, huddled under your blanket, drowsy and halfway to sleep.

Meanwhile, your partner is sitting next to you, also reading. Or playing a video game while you are watching, blinking tiredly but happy to be entertained in this way.

Or it's your friends. They're chatting, talking about their days. Watching a film. All reading. Studying. Playing cards.

And you're just sort of... there. They ignore your sniffling, don't mind when you blow your nose. They don't think you're gross or annoying. Occasionally, somebody might walk by and absent-mindedly pet your head. Squeeze your shoulder. Without even really looking at you.

"You okay?", somebody says, half-amused, when you sneeze forcefully.

"Fine", you mumble, closing your eyes again.

"You want tea?", somebody asks, but it's just an afterthought. They were already on their way to get tea for themselves.

"You warm enough? Want my jumper?", somebody offers. But it's only because they just took it off since they felt too warm.

You're literally just... there. Like a pet. Still part of it even though you can't do much. And you're so happy to simply be around them, feel included. Know you are cared for even though the illness is not that bad. Know you are loved without having to do anything for it.

[icycoldninja]

Hey sorry to bother you again but if you're still not too busy could you make a fluff story with Sephiroth? (And ik I always ask of him but I'd really appreciate this specific request) not gonna go into too much detail but here recently I've been feeling really sick and weak and on top of it I've been losing weight (I'm not for sure ofc but i see myself in the mirror thinning out) and i just want a small story doesn't need to be big or anything just something to kinda make me feel better for a moment please and thank you and if not i understand completely :)

Oh, I'm sorry. My prayers are with you and I'm wishing you a speedy recovery. In the meantime enjoy this, hopefully it will lift your spirits.

My poor baby (Sephiroth x Sick!Reader)

Sephiroth knew you were sick the moment he awoke and found your forehead to be much, much hotter than he was used to. He pressed his palms against your head one more time, confirming his suspicions. You were sick, probably with a cold. The only question was, how did you fall ill? Had he not taken precautions to prevent this?

Then he remembered you telling him one day in the height of his overprotective delirium that not every issue can be prevented, you were all bound to have something happen someday, one way or another, the only thing you could do was ensure it wouldn't be serious. Today seemed to be that day, though thankfully, a cold is not serious.

Sephiroth carefully pried himself out of your grip, his body reluctant to leave your cage of warmth. He knew, however, that taking care of you was more important than his own needs right now, so he endured the chilly, fresh morning air, and made his way to the bathroom to hunt down medicine.

He found some, but discovered upon his return that in the brief time it took to locate this medicine, you'd woken up and were now coughing your head off in bed, wondering why you felt so hot and sticky, and why your nose was clogged up.

"Seph," You whined helplessly, as he entered your room. "I feel awful. I think I'm sick."

"I had that same notion," He responded, opening the bottle of medicine and measuring a dose. "I've taken the liberty of getting some medicine from the bathroom; it's not expired, don't worry."

"Ok," You sighed, sitting upright so you could drink the bitter liquid without spilling it everywhere.

"And some water," Sephiroth insisted, handing you a bottle of water he pulled out of literally nowhere.

"Thank you," You rasped, barely gulping down the water before a coughing and sneezing fit overtook you.

"You wait there," Sephiroth said, surveying your situation. "I will get you some tissues and other necessities.

Before you could reply, he had already left the room, off to find supplies for you. He returned a moment later, carrying a small garbage can, a roll of garbage bags, a package of cough drops, and more water. He laid all these items out on your nightstand, arranging them so they're easily accessed by groping, shaky hands like yours, and kissed you on the forehead before telling you to get some rest.

"Seph?" You began, "Don't go...stay..." To a normal person, this would mean potentially catching whatever you had, but since Sephiroth was not a normal person, he had nothing to fear. He was immune to most sicknesses, so naturally, he agreed.

"Very well then," He mumbled, without a hint of reluctance as he pulled back the covers and slid into bed with you. "Come here, let me hold you."

Sniffling because of your blocked nose, you scooted closer to him and rested your head on his firm chest, the elevation doing wonders to drain your stuffy nose. You were still really uncomfortable, what with your itchy and sore throat, annoying fever and those occasional chills, but lying in Sephiroth's arms made it all the more bearable.

"My poor baby," You caught him whisper, after watching you shake under another bout of cold shivers. "I wish you did not have to suffer this much."

"It's fine," You replied, coughing. "I've been sick before."

"Still, you do not deserve to go through this pain. It is wrong and unnecessary."

"I love you too."

Sephiroth responded to that with a little "humph", patting your head gently.

"Get some rest now, Y/N. You will need it if you wish to make a speedy recovery."

[weregreatatcrime]

"Next time maybe don't wear all black in the desert."

....so I may be writing smth, and I got tired of writing for the day and ended up drawing it instead of resting, because I'm intelligent. I love making characters sick and I MEANT to make Everyone feel bads but Prompto took the brunt of it bcz he is, out of all of them, the most likely to suffer the worst for heat illnesses

None of you idiots are free of heat exhaustion. Prompto’s pale ass just got hit the hardest

[cuddlepilefics]

Chilly fall day at a cozy coffee shop

@cozytober

1 borrowing a sweatshirt or coat

3 chilly fall day

8 pumpkin coffee, apple cider, apple cider donuts or muffins

12 cozy coffee shop

Ateez WooSan oneshot ~ 9.2k words

Wooyoung was tired of the small town he had grown up in and spent all of his life. Especially after graduating, he had been determined to move away and see the world but so far, he had increased his work at the coffee shop, where he had used to take shifts after his classes, to a full time job, so he could save up some money. In a way, he liked being a barista but always seeing the same faces around the same time of day in a town so small that everyone knew everyone was sure to get boring. That didn’t mean that there weren’t some highlights to his days, like the elderly couple that always stopped by on their morning walk. They were sweet and Wooyoung admired that after decades of being together, they still hadn’t grown tired of each other.

Since the couple always came by after the usual morning rush, Wooyoung often had time to chat with them for a bit and enjoyed their visits though he did worry about them quite a bit. He knew they earned a rather big property on the edge of town and while they tried to stay in shape, he couldn’t imagine them being able to maintain it for the years to come. Especially now that the seasons changed, Wooyoung knew they’d have so much more work to do and worried what toll it would take on their health. He wanted to be relieved when they told him that they had hired someone this year but truth be told, he was weary that someone might be taking advantage of their kindness and need for assistance.

His worry eased slightly when San entered the coffee shop for the first time on a chilly fall day. San had been working outside all day and followed his employers’ advice to check out the cozy coffee shop in town in order to warm up and get to know some people. The couple knew that San would need a social life too, now that he was living in a small cottage on their property or else it’d be easy to feel isolated during the cold months and maybe they also sensed that he’d click well with the young barista. Wooyoung had never been interested in anyone in his hometown, a curse of having grown up together and having witnessed everyone’s most embarrassing moments and having his own most embarrassing moments witnessed but San was new and Wooyoung couldn’t deny that the older was attractive.

Years of various physically taxing jobs had left San with quite a bit of muscles and not even his coat could disguise his broad shoulders. To say that Wooyoung was surprised when the weathered looking man ordered a pumpkin coffee would be an understatement. It took a few weeks and the occasional chat for the barista to notice San being far more childish than he looked. They were pretty close in age and being new to town, San appreciated having someone to talk to. It was easy chatting with Wooyoung, so San made sure to stop by the coffee shop after work to avoid the busy time of the barista’s shift. He hadn’t exactly moved to town to meet people, rather the opposite, but Wooyoung had caught his eye and he prepared his pumpkin coffee so perfectly, San enjoyed his almost daily visits to the coffee shop.

San had wanted, no, needed a new start. Maybe if people didn’t know him, he could feel safe, get his life in order. Well, that was a big maybe but he was determined to give it a try. At least, the cottage he had moved into was cozy and it stood right at the edge of the forest, so he was as close to nature as could be, while not being completely removed from civilization. The elderly couple he worked for were lovely and just wanted their large property well taken care of, which San did with ease. He had grown up on a pretty large farm, so he was now stranger to the work and enjoyed the fresh air. It was a big plus, that he could work on his own and didn’t have to interact with people much because aside from Wooyoung, he wasn’t too fond of people. Especially not since what happened in his hometown.

A couple of years ago, San barely even remembered that night, he had had to get something from the barn and only grabbed his flashlight for the walk. He might not even have needed the flashlight, the full moon illuminating the night sky. Still, he hadn’t seen the predator perched behind the bushes, only waiting to attack him. The moment itself was a blur in San’s memory but he could never forget the searing pain in his leg. He must’ve screamed because there were shots fired, which chased the animal off before he collapsed to the ground. When his brother brought him back into the house, neither of them could figure out what animal had attacked San. The bleeding bite marks on his leg looked similar to those of a dog but there was no denying that the creature had been much too big to be s stray dog.

Though they cleaned his injury well, San fell severely sick not long after. He had contracted some kind of infection and Seonghwa feared his younger brother wouldn’t make it but miraculously, he survived. It wasn’t until later that they realized what damage San had actually taken. They did figure out eventually that the creature that had attacked him that night had been a werewolf, though that was hard to come to terms with after only hearing about those in folklore and their town’s urban legends. San’s own monthly transformations made it hard to deny though and Seonghwa often feared for his own life because he knew he wouldn’t have it in him to shoot his dongsaeng of he attacked him. They had always managed to lock San up in the barn in time but it was risky.

A secret can only be kept for so long though and San was eventually found out. They had been lucky in hindsight because he wasn’t killed on the spot but it was obvious that people would come for him. Seonghwa had his back and always would have but he couldn’t possibly protect the younger from the townspeople’s wrath. Still, he did his best to help San find a new place and helped him relocate, so he may get a fresh start. When San told him about his new job and the coffee shop he visited frequently, Seonghwa was relieved but he still feared how his dongsaeng would deal with the upcoming full moon. It seemed he didn’t need to worry though, the large forest giving San ample opportunity to roam in his wolf form. As long as nobody found out about his little secret, he knew he had found the perfect new home.

That turned out being trickier than expected, when he entered the cozy coffee shop on a chilly fall day after working the lands all day. His hand brushed against Wooyoung’s, when the younger handed him his usual pumpkin coffee. The barista’s eyes widened with worry as he gasped: “Are you okay?” At first, San didn’t know what Wooyoung was talking about until he reached over the counter to feel his forehead. Right, he had been running pretty warm ever since that day, so him coming in from the cold and having warm hands had to be alarming. “Ah, I’ve been wearing thick gloves”, San chuckled but Wooyoung didn’t seem to believe him, pointing out: “Your forehead is hot too.”

He tried his best to play his elevated body temperature off well but he could tell that Wooyoung still worried about him quite a bit when he left the coffee shop that day. Maybe it had bee the barista’s intuition telling him something was up before San himself realized it because later that night, he struggled to sleep, his body aching all over. Sure, he had been working hard but not to an extend that would usually leave him this sore and it also wasn’t even close to full moon, so he couldn’t make sense of the way he was feeling. At least he had a cozy bed in his cottage to curl up in.

The only downside to San’s new home, was the antiquated heating in his cottage. It wasn’t usually a problem because he always ran hot but tonight, he seemed to have developed a chill. As it closer to sunrise, his aches were joined by a pounding headache and San sighed hoarsely. Wooyoung might’ve been right, he was coming down with something. Seonghwa too could hear it in his voice as they spoke on the phone that morning and he couldn’t help but worry. This was the first time that San would be sick while living completely on his own but he assured the older that it was only a chill and scratchy throat so far and that he’d be fine.

San started to doubt that statement though as the day progressed. Despite having dressed warmly, he was freezing, the winds penetrating his thick sweatshirt. Today, everything seemed to take so much more effort and for a while he even contemplated if he should really go for his late afternoon coffee today or just curl up in bed as soon as he was done with his work. Not seeing Wooyoung today didn’t sound like an option though, no matter how exhausted San was. Yeah, he probably had a crush on the cute barista but could you blame him? Wooyoung had become his source of comfort in a foreign town, so of course, he’d get attached.

Against his better judgement, San dragged himself to the coffee shop that afternoon and of course it was just his luck that it started raining about halfway there. Wooyoung’s jaw dropped when he spotted San at the door, soaked through and his hair plastered to his forehead. They were lucky that the coffee shop was almost empty at that point, which saved what little remained of San’s dignity. “What are you doing here? Are you crazy?!”, Wooyoung scolded, “Why would you come out here without an umbrella?” – “It wasn’t raining when I left”, San argued, wincing at how rough his voice came out, “Wanted to stop by to warm up after work like usual ‘cause today was pretty chilly.” Covering his lips, the younger sighed: “Sorry. Do you want your usual? Or would you prefer some tea? It sounds like your voice could need it.” – “I love my pumpkin coffee but I don’t know if caffein is the best choice right now”, San agreed, rubbing at his eyes, “I’m beyond tired though, so maybe coffee? I dunno.” – “Do you trust me?”, Wooyoung smiled, already reaching for a cup.

Turns out, San does trust him quite a bit and he wasn’t disappointed when Wooyoung served him a cup of spiced chai along with an apple cider muffin on the house, insisting he looked like he needed the sugar. San’s heart did the weird fluttery thing again, that it been doing a lot in Wooyoung’s presence lately but it wasn’t uncomfortable and San was glad that he had come to the coffee shop today despite feeling like death warmed over. Being a person who always had his guard up, he startled when Wooyoung’s hand appeared on his shoulder. The fact that the younger had managed to sneak up on him like that a testament to how out of it he was. Wooyoung apologized sheepishly, holding out a sweatshirt, humming: “You should go to the restroom and put this on. If you sit around in your soaked sweater, you’ll only get worse.” It took a moment for San to realize that the younger had grabbed his own sweatshirt from the back. “Oh, it’s okay, Woo”, San rasped, “I’m not cold.” He was betrayed by an ill-timed shudder and Wooyoung only raised his eyebrow at him. In the end, it didn’t take all that much prodding to get San to borrow his sweatshirt.

When the older returned from the restroom, Wooyoung felt his breath catch in his throat. San’s arms looked even bigger in Wooyoung’s shirt, which ended up being a bit tight around his broad shoulders but it was warm and dry, helping his chills, so San wouldn’t complain and considering the view, neither would Wooyoung. The rain still hadn’t stopped and it didn’t seem like it would anytime soon. Initially, San had been determined to wait it out at the coffee shop but closing time was nearing and he felt increasingly run down the more time passed. Wooyoung was about to close up shop for the night, San being the only customer left and it didn’t seem like he really wanted to leave, so Wooyoung offered: “Do you need a ride home? I mean, you wouldn’t have come in soaked if you were here by car, right?” – “I don’t want to inconvenience you but actually, that’d be awesome”, San muttered, scratching the back of his head, “I had hoped the rain would stop, so I could make it home without getting soaked again.” – “Yeah, that wouldn’t do your cold any favors”, the younger agreed, “I’ll drive you home, you’ll just have to give me directions.”

That was what they did after Wooyoung closed the coffee shop for the night and San tried to relax his stiff muscles as the car’s heating fired up. With him looking so sleepy and out of it, Wooyoung had a hard time focusing on the road in front of him. “You’re not going to fall asleep on me, are you?”, he teased when San’s head tipped towards his chest. Straightening back up, the older shook his head and cleared his throat before mumbling: “You’ll have to turn left there.” – “Oh wow, I didn’t think you were paying attention”, Wooyoung giggled but turned left. He couldn’t believe how adorable sleepy San could be.

Pulling onto a dirt road, Wooyoung looked at San expectantly. “That cottage is where I live”, the older rasped, pointing out of the window into the darkness and it took Wooyoung a moment to spot it, “Make sure to lock the doors again once I’m out. The forest can be dangerous at night.” – “In that case, I’ll wait here till you get inside”, the younger hummed, watching San unbuckle his seatbelt. Turning to Wooyoung, San sniffled: “I’m still wearing your sweatshirt.” – “That’s alright. You come to the coffee shop so frequently. You can just give it back the next time we meet there”, Wooyoung smiled, “It’s okay if you don’t visit for a couple of days though. You should stay in and sleep off your cold.” – “You don’t wanna see me?”, San pouted, making the other laugh: “That’s not what I said. I don’t want you getting worse from being out and about though. No go inside and to bed, you can barely keep your eyes open. Get better soon.”

Though he looked a bit like a kicked puppy, San complied and got out of Wooyoung’s car, quickly shuffling into his cottage. Wooyoung had locked the doors like San had instructed but watched till the older had gotten inside before starting the engine again to drive home. He was impressed that he actually got home, having no memory of the remaining drive as he got out of the car. It seemed he was too deep in thought about a certain someone but luckily got home safely. Despite all those thoughts racing through his mind, Wooyoung fell asleep surprisingly fast.

In contrast to Wooyoung, San couldn’t seem to fall asleep despite having been close to dozing off during the drive. The cottage was cold, though he couldn’t tell whether it really was a problem with the heating or just the absence of Wooyoung’s sunny personality. San hadn’t removed the younger’s sweatshirt yet, only changing into pajama pants before crawling under his blanket to ease the chills. By now, he was pretty sure he was running a fever, even by his standards. What really kept him awake though was the bothersome cough, rattling deep in his chest and making his head pound. Before San knew it, the sun was rising and he had gotten little to no sleep. Still, he needed this job, so he didn’t feel like he could take the day off. When his employer came to talk to him about some yard work while San was raking up fallen leaves and he almost keeled over mid-conversation, the elder sent hi back to bed, telling him the leaves could wait.

Wooyoung didn’t think much of it when San’s usual time passed and the older hadn’t come to the coffee shop yet, after all he himself had told him not to and to stay in bed instead. That didn’t mean that he wouldn’t go check on San after his shift. Now that he knew where he lived, there was nothing stopping Wooyoung from visiting his friend. Well, he considered San a friend and he surely hoped the other did so too, it would be pretty awkward otherwise. For a moment, he reconsidered his decision to visit San when he knocked on the door and nobody opened. Just when he was about to turn and leave, the lock clicked and the door swung open.

San slumped against the door frame, his hair disheveled as if he had just gotten out of bed, which he probably had. “Woo?”, he forced out, turning away coughing, “What are you doing here?” – “You look and sound awful”, Wooyoung cringed, “I came to check on you, figuring you were doing worse because I didn’t see you at the café today, and to bring you something to cheer you up. Cinnamon hot chocolate and we had apple cider donuts today.” San’s face heated up when the younger held up a paper bag but he’d blame the rising fever for that. No way Wooyoung’s adorable smile could be to blame. Glancing back into the small cottage, San muttered: “Do you wanna come in for a bit? My place is a mess but….” – “That’s okay”, Wooyoung smiled as he kicked off his shoes and followed San inside.

Haphazardly pulling a fluffy blanket off the couch, San cleared some space to sit and rasped: “Can I offer you anything? I got tea. Nothing special but it’s warm.” Wooyoung accepted a cup of tea and smiled when San took a seat next to him, handing him the hot chocolate he had brought. “It got you bad, didn’t it”, he hummed sympathetically, pressing his finger against the side of San’s neck. Hissing in utter shock, Wooyoung recoiled and was about to drag the older to his car to take him to the emergency room. San gave him a sad smile and whispered: “Don’t freak out. I always get really high fevers, it’s nothing to worry about.” – “I’m pretty sure, you should be dead with a fever this high. Do you have a thermometer or something?”, Wooyoung frowned doubtfully. Shaking his head, San quietly denied: “I don’t own one but if it was dangerous, I don’t think I’d be conscious. It’s alright, really. Seonghwa always worried too but it’s just a weird thing my body does.” He had told Wooyoung about his older brother once and the younger could hear a tinge of homesickness in his shot voice now.

“You’re not used to living on your own, are you?”, he whispered after a while and San slightly shook his head, asking: “What gave it away?” Gently running his fingers through the other’s hair, Wooyoung smiled when he didn’t pull away and hummed: “Nothing specific but I realized over time that you aren’t as rough as you may appear at the first glance. I think you’re a big softie inside and you miss your brother, don’t you?” Avoiding the younger’s eyes, San admitted: “I’ve lived with Seonghwa all my life until I came here two months ago. It’s different. I do enjoy the freedom and I love the new place but especially while not feeling well, it does get lonely.” – “Then I’m glad I stopped by today”, Wooyoung beamed, scratching San’s scalp, “Can’t have you suffering out here all on your own.” – “Why?”, San breathed and Wooyoung furrowed his brows. “What do you mean ‘why’?”, he frowned. Fiddling with a loose string on the cuff of his sleeve, San sniffled: “Why would you care if I was lonely?” – “Because you are my friend and I care about you?”, Wooyoung mumbled, feeling slightly hurt. Did San not consider him a friend after all?

“Sorry”, San sighed after a moment, “I guess, I’m just not used to it. I’m glad you came to visit me but I didn’t expect anyone would. The only one I knew, who cared was Seonghwa and he lives too far away to randomly come by.” – “Well, that’s what friends are for”, Wooyoung smiled and this time, San mirrored it. Wooyoung could tell that being up was taking a lot out of San. He was still unsure whether he should drag the older to the emergency room for his fever and therefore didn’t really want to leave him by himself but his visit was draining him. Watching San nibble the donut despite claiming he barely had an appetite, Wooyoung hummed: “Do you have any medication, so could take for that fever? I know that I should go and let you sleep but, I don’t know, I’m worried about something happening to you once I’m gone.” San shook his head. “I don’t but seriously, Woo. Don’t worry so much. You’ll lose your hair”, he teased weakly. The younger would’ve almost believed him if he hadn’t broken off coughing. Getting to his feet, Wooyoung headed for the door and put on his shoes, announcing: “Give me a moment.”

When he returned, he triumphantly held up a pill bottle. “I still had some ibuprofen in my car”, Wooyoung smiled, shaking two pills into his cupped hand. Holding them out to San, he instructed: “Since you just ate something, you can go right ahead and take those. They should bring your fever down and also help with any pains you might be experiencing.” – “Well, that’d be lovely. My head’s killing me”, San muttered, knocking the pills back and rinsing them down with a sip from his hot chocolate. Carefully stroking San’s bangs out of his face, Wooyoung whispered: “You should go to bed. Get some sleep.” – “I can’t sleep”, the older muttered, eyes already fluttering shut, “’m too restless and I keep coughing and it just sucks.” Taking his hands and pulling him to his feet, Wooyoung giggled: “Come on, you big baby. I’ll put you to bed.”

San swayed slightly on his feet but Wooyoung’s hands on his shoulders steadied him and steered him to his bedroom. Pushing down on San’s shoulders, the younger made him sit on the edge of the mattress and folded back the blanket, so he could lay down. “Will you be okay if I come back tomorrow after work? I’ll leave the ibuprofen in the kitchen and get you some water before I leave”, Wooyoung whispered, tucking San in. Already drifting off, the older mumbled something unintelligible but nodded, so Wooyoung placed a glass of water onto the nightstand before seeing himself out.

He had a bad feeling leaving San by himself but he didn’t think they were close enough for him to stay the night. Yeosang could tell that Wooyoung was uneasy. They had been best friends for childhood and Yeosang occasionally worked early morning shifts at the café too. “Someone’s in love~”, he sang teasingly, ducking and laughing when Wooyoung flicked a tea towel his way. Drying another cup, the younger whined: “I’m just worried for a friend. For the record, San and I are friends, okay?” – “Okay”, the older snickered, refilling the coffee beans. He knew that Wooyoung hadn’t been that interested in anyone since middle school, friend or not. Since it might stop the younger from moving to a different town though, Yeosang was glad. He couldn’t imagine staying either if his best friend left.

Yeosang didn’t get another opportunity to tease Wooyoung because a customer walked in and he went over to serve him. It was another unfamiliar face, which didn’t happen often in their small town, so Yeosang was intrigued. While he prepared the stranger’s order, he learned that his name was Seonghwa and he was only in town for a visit. Wooyoung’s ears were perked, hearing that name and he tried to listen in to their conversation. Just when Seonghwa was about to leave, Wooyoung spoke up: “Are you San’s brother?” Though surprised, the older nodded. “I am. Sannie’s sick, so I came to town to make sure he has everything he needs. Sadly, I don’t live all that close by and also have a farm to take care of, so this is one of my rare day trips. How do you know my dongsaeng?”, Seonghwa hummed, earning a shy smile from Wooyoung and a chuckle from Yeosang. “San is one of our regulars. He always orders pumpkin coffee when he comes by after finishing his work”, the barista claimed, stepping on Yeosang’s foot to stop him from announcing his crush to said crush’s older brother.

“Are you sure, I shouldn’t take you back home for a couple of days till you recover?”, Seonghwa worried, feeling San’s forehead again. He sat on the edge of his dongsaeng’s bed, sipping his coffee while contemplating their options. Draping his forearm over his eyes, San rasped: “I feel safer here, especially when the full moon is only a week ahead. Hyung, I can handle myself and Wooyoung visited me yesterday, making sure I had medicine. It’ll be fine.” – “Wooyoung?” – “He’s a barista at that cozy coffee shop where you bought your drink”, the younger breathed. Furrowing his brows, Seonghwa turned the paper cup in his hand and studied the label, humming: “Which one?” – “The cute one.” – “Well, they both are”, Seonghwa chuckled, “But one seemed to recognize my name, so I’m figuring that was Wooyoung.” – “Mhm, think so. He’s the one I talk to most. Yeosang is rather quiet”, San mumbled, giving his brother a sleepy smile, “He’s more like you. I think you should get coffee more often there.” – “And I think your fever’s up, Sannie. You’re saying nonsense”, Seonghwa snorted, heading to the kitchen to start preparing some soup.

Seonghwa was lucky he had the whole day at San’s place because the broth needed to simmer for a couple of hours and he wanted it to be done by the time he left, so the younger wouldn’t have to do anything but heat it up. San had started to eat more meat ever since his transformation, his body burning through nutrients much faster. That was why Seonghwa took the time to make a nourishing bone broth as base, figuring it would give his dongsaeng’s body everything it really needed. San’s comment stuck with him though. Yeosang was indeed pretty cute and if he lived any closer, he would’ve probably asked him out, just to see if they really fit like San claimed they would.

They were both weary of the darkness, so San kicked Seonghwa out early that evening. Realistically, he knew it wasn’t a full moon but if werewolves were real, what other creatures were? That was also why San was so adamant about Wooyoung making sure his car doors were locked whenever he stopped somewhere on his way home. Though Seonghwa knew it would be for the better, he left his dongsaeng with a heavy heart, saddened that the younger would have to suffer by himself once again. He hadn’t been gone for long though, when there was a knock at San’s door. Dragging himself out of bed, San pulled his blanket around his shoulders and went to open it. His voice was husky, when he frowned: “What are you doing here, Woo? It’s going to be dark soon.” – “Yeah, and? My phone has a flashlight”, Wooyoung shrugged, “It was dark last time I visited too, so….”

“Is Seonghwa still here?”, Wooyoung asked when San pulled him into the cottage and quickly closed the door behind him. Shaking his head, San sighed: “No, he left already. He knows it’s dangerous to be out after dark.” – “Are the two of you close?”, Wooyoung hummed, taking a seat on the couch while San muffled a painful cough into the blanket. Weakly collapsing next to the younger, San nodded and explained: “We grew up together and took care of our parents’ farm. I eventually started to despise our hometown and wanted a fresh start, so I came here but we still talk on the phone often and he made sure I was okay. Seonghwa has always been the motherly type and I couldn’t be more grateful towards him.” – “That’s nice”, Wooyoung smiled, “I grew up as an only child but Yeosang and I were almost like brothers. Do you miss Seonghwa a lot?” San’s hesitation was enough to answer the younger’s question. “I do but I still think that coming here was the right decision. It just comes with some challenges like everything in life does”, San explained after taking a moment to sort his thoughts.

Glancing at the clock, San asked: “Did you eat dinner yet?” When Wooyoung shook his head, he added: “Seonghwa made some soup. Do you wanna stay for dinner?” – “I’d love that”, the younger smiled, “Actually, I brought desert. We had apple cider muffins at the coffee shop again and I’m kinda obsessed with our seasonal menu.” – “Same. Your pumpkin coffee is to die for”, San laughed, which turned into a cough. Biting his lip, Wooyoung mumbled: “I guess, I gotta confess something at this point. Whenever you come in, I prepare your coffee with one more pump of caramel syrup than the recipe calls for. That way when one of the other baristas prepares it, it won’t taste the same.” – “Are you manipulating me, Woo?”, San gasped, making Wooyoung turn bright red. “I wasn’t brave enough to write my number on your receipt”, the barista mumbled, so quietly that San struggled to catch what he was saying. Holding out his phone to Wooyoung, San teased: “Hope you’re brave enough to put your number in my phone.”

Wooyoung swore his heart stopped for a couple of seconds and when it resumed beating, he typed his phone number, having to redo it because his hands were shaking so badly. Despite the feverish gloss in San’s eyes, the look he gave him was smug. “I should’ve asked you so much soon, Woo. Now, let me go heat up that soup”, San laughed, leaving the younger rattled. Wooyoung remained quiet when San returned with two steaming bowls of soup, making the older frown: “Did I make you uncomfortable?” – “Not uncomfortable, just shy”, Wooyoung admitted, accepting the bowl, “Thanks.”

“I know, I’m not the most fun right now”, San started, clearing his throat before blowing on his soup, “Once I’m better, would you consider going out with me?” Lowering his spoon, Wooyoung gave San a long look. He was trying to figure out whether the older was being serious. A small smile spread on his lips and he mumbled: “If you’d still go out with me after I’ve been spiking your coffee, I’d love that.” San almost spilled his soup in his rush to place it on the coffee table to hug Wooyoung. The younger barely managed to place the bowl down in time, so San wouldn’t knock it out of his hands. Laughing, Wooyoung ruffled San’s hair as the other’s arms tightened around his middle. Right now, the older resembled an excited puppy more than a grown man but Wooyoung wouldn’t complain, he liked that about San.

The pair ate their dinner in comfortable silence, only broken by San’s occasional sniffles as the steam cleared his congestion. When it seemed like Wooyoung was about to call it a night and prepare to head home though, the older grew uneasy. “Are you sure that you wanna drive home?”, San frowned, “It’s already dark out.” Waving him off, Wooyoung smiled: “It’s not far and I drive through the dark pretty often. No big deal.” – “It’s dangerous though. Seonghwa left earlier to avoid just that”, the other argued, earning a soft chuckle. “Sannie, are you scared of the dark?”, Wooyoung asked with barely masked amusement. Growing anxious, San stammered: “Something like that, I guess. Please don’t tease.” – “Okay, I won’t”, the younger whispered, growing serious, “Would you feel more at ease if I stayed the night? Your couch is comfy, so I wouldn’t mind.” – “Please? I wouldn’t want anything happening to you on your way home”, San pleaded and Wooyoung refrained from pointing out that he was a good driver and in such a small town, what else could possibly happen to him if not himself running his car off the road. Something in San’s tone told him that the older was serious, so Wooyoung wouldn’t push it.

San brought him one of his largest sweatshirts to sleep in, knowing how cold the cottage could get during the night. It was far to big on Wooyoung but he couldn’t deny that he looked adorable in it. While San went to collect a pillow and blanket for Wooyoung, the younger lifted his sweater paws to his face and deeply inhaled San’s scent. It was soothing and he had no doubts that he’d sleep incredibly well. Something about the elder’s cottage was unbelievably cozy, despite the chilly fall winds howling past the windows. “Here, I’ll also light the lantern on the table, so you’ll find your way around”, San hummed lowly as he placed a pillow on the couch and draped the blanket over the back.

A shiver ran down Wooyoung’s back when he made eye contact with San, while the older blew out the match. The firelight gave San’s eyes a soft golden glow, which didn’t look entirely human and seemed to pierce straight through Wooyoung’s soul. Checking the door to confirm he had locked it, San asked: “Do you need anything else, Woo?” The younger shook his head and smiled: “No, I think I’m good. Good night, Sannie.” – “Sweet dreams”, San whispered, shuffling to his room. He knew, he wouldn’t be able to sleep anytime soon, the insomnia another side effect of his transformation. It was hard to tell whether it was him being nocturnal though or if it was his anxiety making him listen to the slightest of sounds outside in case he was about to be attacked, be that by a werewolf or an angry mob of people wanting to get rid of him.

At least now his sharp hearing might be able to keep Wooyoung safe as long as he stayed close enough for San to protect him. San told himself he could, though both Seonghwa and Wooyoung would tell him he was more likely to trip over his own feet in the attempt. It was true that he got clumsy when he was sick but he would never accept it as a fact, despite Seonghwa pointing it out to him multiple times over the years. If he told himself he’d be able to protect Wooyoung, while the younger slept peacefully on his couch, maybe San would be easier able to rest too.

Wooyoung slept pretty well despite the wind howling so close. Sometimes, it almost sounded as if there were different howls mixed in but he was half asleep and dazed, so his mind conjuring up things wasn’t all that surprising. San startled himself awake with a howl, sitting up so fast it made his head spin. Once his heart stopped racing, his mind finally had a chance of catching up. He had howled. Gosh, hopefully Wooyoung was still asleep. It wasn’t full moon yet for fuck’s sake, so why was he acting weird? His head pounded as he rolled out of bed to get himself some water. He really needed a drink, his throat on fire from howling in his sleep. “San?”, Wooyoung yawned, rubbing his face when the older tried to sneak past him to the kitchen, “I had such a weird dream.” – “Yeah?”, San croaked painfully. He poured a glass of water and sipped it slowly as he joined the younger on the couch. Resting his head on San’s shoulder Wooyoung mumbled: “I dreamed that it snowed and I visited you for Christmas. There were so many pawprints in the snow. They looked so big, no idea what dog breed would leave such prints. Would you ever consider adopting a dog? I think that’d be pretty cute. It would suit you. You like animals, right? I mean, you grew up on a farm, so….”

San smiled as he listened to the younger rambling. It didn’t seem like Wooyoung actually expected a reply, already slowly trailing off as his eyes fluttered shut. San carefully placed his glass onto the coffee table and shifted the younger into a flat position before reaching for the blanket and gently tucking him in, so he wouldn’t get cold. Despite going back to bed not long after, San struggled to fall asleep again. His irritated throat ached and he couldn’t keep from coughing for long. He tried his best to muffle it into his pillow but it was only a matter of time till he’d wake Wooyoung. Though his hearing was usually on point, San hadn’t noticed the younger approaching his bedroom and startled when he suddenly stood in the doorway.

“You okay?”, Wooyoung hummed, voice thick with sleep. San nodded but had to duck his face back into his pillow to muffle another cough. Clicking his tongue, the younger turned and went to refill San’s glass with water. As he watched the other drink, Wooyoung worried: “Is there anything else I could get you?” – “Um, there’s some cough syrup Seonghwa-hyung brought next to the ibuprofen in the kitchen. I don’t think I’ll get much sleep if it keeps going like this, could you?”, San forced out, voice strained. He didn’t have to elaborate, Wooyoung already heading to the kitchen to get his medicine. After making sure the older was medicated, Wooyoung sat with him and even grabbed a cold wash cloth to try and bring down what he still deemed a dangerously high fever. San insisted his fever wasn’t all that bad and that Wooyoung shouldn’t worry too much but he also couldn’t deny that he enjoyed the other’s affection.

They both fell asleep on San’s bed, Wooyoung’s back and neck predictably sore from the odd position he had slept in sitting up against the headboard. He didn’t regret it though, finally having exchanged number with his crush last night. San didn’t regret it either, despite feeling guilty for Wooyoung’s bad sleep and achy muscles. At least, it also gave him the chance to see if their morning routines matched and he was relieved to see the younger pour his cereal first and add milk after. San seemed to be on improving, his fever having gone down quite a bit under Wooyoung’s gentle ministrations, though they both knew the cold would linger for quite a while with the way the congestion had gone down to his chest. Wooyoung was most worried about San’s fever still though, not fully believing the older when he claimed he always ran hot, and the odd gloss he had detected in his eyes only furthered his concern.

Wooyoung had to go to work after breakfast though, no matter how badly he wanted to stay with San. After repeatedly reminding San to text if he needed anything or felt worse, he sighed and slipped on his shoes. No sooner than the younger was out the door, San picked up his phone and called Seonghwa, panicking. He hadn’t expected to get attached to Wooyoung that fast or ever because every acquaintance and friendship threatened the delicate secret he had been keeping and the reality he had been running from.

Seonghwa was busy but remained on the phone with San for close to two hours as he went about his daily chores, worried for his dongsaeng’s safety. The full moon was about a week away at this point and San already saw his eyes changing when he glanced into the mirror that morning. It was only a glimmer at this point but there was a slight risk Wooyoung would notice if they ended up spending more time together. When they eventually hung up, San opened a chat to Wooyoung, his heart heavy when he typed that Seonghwa had decided to take him home till he was over his cold and that he would be out of town for somewhere between one and two weeks. It was a little white lie, the brothers knowing that San couldn’t possibly go back to his hometown with his monthly transformation pending but it should deter Wooyoung from any surprise visits.

Although slightly disappointed that he wouldn’t get to see San for a while, Wooyoung was relieved thinking that San was with Seonghwa. From what he had heard about his friend’s older brother, there was no doubt in his mind that San would be well taken care of, especially if his temperature remained that high. It also gave Wooyoung a chance to come to terms with the feelings he harbored towards San, accepting that Yeosang was right after all. He was in love.

Wooyoung’s shift seemed to drag on forever, which might have been because his body ached all over. He really shouldn’t have slept in such an odd position. Yeosang teased him, especially for the pout that just wouldn’t leave his lips after San texted him that he’d be out of town. “Cheer up, we can hang out. Hongjoong-hyung is going to visit and we can call Yunho and Mingi to see whether they’re busy. Don’t worry, Woo. We’ll distract you till lover boy is back in town”, Yeosang giggled, wiping down a table. Hongjoong had left town almost two years ago to study music a few towns over and they only saw each other every couple of months, so Wooyoung was happy the older would visit but the smile still didn’t entirely reach his eyes because Hongjoong wasn’t San.

Yunho and Mingi obviously made sure to join their friends a when they heard that Hongjoong was visiting and Yeosang volunteered to host them at his apartment a couple of days later. Not that he had to do much. He knew that their hangouts were always a group effort. They ordered pizza to share and Yunho brought apple cider, which he heated up in Yeosang’s small kitchen. Wooyoung had made spiced cookies, mainly to distract himself from missing San till it was time for their hangout. A shiver ran down his spine as he got out of the car. Yeosang didn’t live as close to the forest as San but he could still hear a haunting howl from where he stood in his friend’s driveway. Remembering how weary San was of the darkness, Wooyoung hurried to get to the door and his heart only calmed down when Yeosang closed the door again behind him.

He forgot all about the weird sense of dread as they spent the evening catching up after not seeing each other for so long. To his shame, Wooyoung had to admit that he drank far more cider than he had intended but it just happened with Mingi frequently refilling his cup before it was even completely empty. There was no way, he’d still be able to drive but he also couldn’t stay at Yeosang’s place. His friend’s apartment was small as it was and he had already agreed to have Hongjoong sleep over while he was in town, so Wooyoung really had to get home. Yunho, bless his soul, had been responsible enough to stay sober, so he could drive himself and his boyfriend home, Mingi too having had more than enough to drink. Wooyoung didn’t even have to ask for Yunho to tell him to get into the car, so he could take him home.

With Mingi already falling asleep with his head against the window, Yunho didn’t wait for long after Wooyoung got out of the car. Convinced that his friend would be inside in only a second and it also was considerably bright outside, Yunho drove off and didn’t see the shadow skulking behind some bushes leading up the driveway. Wooyoung found himself frozen in place when his eyes locked with glowing golden ones. There was something in his driveway and he’d inevitably have to pass it in order to get inside. His heart raced as he took a tentative step forward and the creature stood up to its full height. It was only then that Wooyoung realized what it was and his heart sank. He had been convinced that wolves were extinct in this part of the country but the creature in front of him was far too big to be a stray dog.

Wooyoung did something he’d later beat himself up over. He ran. Despite knowing that this was exactly what he was supposed to avoid, he ran, making a mad dash for his front door. The wolf didn’t move, though it could’ve easily snatched Wooyoung while he drunkenly fumbled with his keys. When he finally shut the door behind him slumping back against it, Wooyoung was still shaking from the adrenaline. Considering that he had been drinking, he knew his friends wouldn’t believe what he saw, so after locking the door, he just went to bed.

Sleep wouldn’t come easily though. Wooyoung was still woozy from the alcohol but he surely wasn’t imagining the howls he heard blending in with the wind outside, right? Even when he fell into a restless slumber, his dreams kept repeating and they were oddly similar to the one he had at San’s place. Rustling leaves and deep paw prints in the mud. With how badly he had slept, it came as no surprise to Wooyoung when he woke up to a splitting headache, that made him swear he would never drink a single drop of alcohol ever again. He groaned as he rolled out of bed and slowly shuffled to the kitchen to have some water. The cool drink felt nice and helped wash away the foul taste that had remained on his tongue but the headache remained and he didn’t feel even half awake as he glanced out the window, dropping the glass in shock.

The dirt driveway was covered in large paw prints, resembling the ones from his reoccurring dream, and Wooyoung pinched himself to confirm that this wasn’t another one. He shouldn’t have had that much to drink. As if things weren’t already bad enough, Wooyoung caught a glimpse of a golden shimmer between the yellow and orange leaves and gasped, straining to see whether he could spot those eyes again. He couldn’t but that didn’t change the feeling that he was being watched. That eerie feeling got even worse when he returned to his bedroom and found a pine cone on his outside windowsill. It looked deliberately placed and there were more paw prints in front of his window. Now thoroughly terrified, Wooyoung closed all the blinds and quickly forced down some saltine crackers before downing more water and cursing that he didn’t have anymore ibuprofen to ease his hangover. Hoping his mind was just conjuring things up from thin air, he went back to bed with the intention to sleep off his headache.

Luckily, his headache had improved a little when he woke up again later that afternoon and the oppressive feeling of being watched too had faded but the pawprints and acorn remained. Something had been there and it made Wooyoung doubt that the wolf he had seen the previous night had been purely his imagination. Hallucinations didn’t leave prints in the dirt after all.

Wooyoung’s heart almost stopped when there was a knock at the door and for a moment, he considered playing dead but a moment later he got a text from San saying that he was back in town and was waiting for him to open his door. How did San know his address? Wooyoung didn’t question it for long when he let the older in and saw he had brought coffee and porridge with fruit. “Hi”, San chuckled, handing the food to Wooyoung, “How’s your head?” – “Pounding. How do you know?”, the younger muttered, brows furrowed. Tilting his head, San pouted: “We spoke on the phone late last night, don’t you remember? I brought some food to help with the hangover and the ibuprofen.”

Pretty convinced that he had not spoken to San the previous night, Wooyoung wearily followed the older into the kitchen and hummed: “I didn’t expect you back so soon. Are you feeling better?” – “Lots”, San smiled, handing him the coffee, “Sure, the cough’s probably going to linger for another week or two, it always does, but I feel alive again and I also gotta work, so…. And I take it, you had fun yesterday? Here, eat something, so you can take something for your headache!” – “Yeah, it was nice seeing Hongjoong again. Thanks”, Wooyoung agreed, “He moved away for university and I missed him a lot. Glad you’re doing better.” Not wanting the older to think he was crazy, Wooyoung didn’t mention what he had seen the previous night and instead quietly ate the meal San had brought.

San also reminded him to take his painkillers before taking a longer look at Wooyoung. “What’s with your eyes? I thought it was a fluke when I first saw it but there’s still that golden glimmer. Are you wearing contact lenses?”, Wooyoung asked curiously, hands cupping San’s cheeks, so he could take a better look at his eyes. Pulling away, the older blinked a couple of times and mumbled: “My eyes do that sometimes when the light hits them just right. You’re not the first to point it out.” – “It’s pretty. I like it”, Wooyoung smiled, making the other blush. When he smiled back, San felt his lips scrape over his canines and quickly closed his mouth, afraid the younger would notice. It was only the day after the full moon and he had just return to his human for a few hours prior, so he wasn’t completely back to normal yet but his worry had forced him to go and check on Wooyoung as well as return the favor of taking care of him.

With both of them exhausted, Wooyoung from his hangover and San from his lingering cold and the after effects of the full moon, they had a quiet afternoon and Wooyoung came to discover that San’s wide chest was incredibly comfortable to cuddle into. Though the older insisted that his fever was gone and that this was his normal temperature, Wooyoung still pointed out how warm his embrace was. Not that he was complaining. San was his personal furnace and the heat made him sleepy once again.

Running his fingers through Wooyoung’s hair, San chuckled: “Are you falling asleep on me, Woo?” – “You’re in no position to complain. You fell asleep on me at least twice”, the younger slurred, keeping his eyes closed. A laugh rumbled lowly in San’s chest before he pointed out: “I’m not complaining. It’s cute. I just didn’t think it possible after you did away with that large caramel latte.” – “I work in a coffee shop, caffein runs in my veins. I am resistant, I am its master”, Wooyoung mumbled, making San laugh again and earning himself a soft kiss to the forehead.

San spent the rest of the evening with Wooyoung, neither of them tired enough to sleep but too exhausted to do anything. The younger eventually mentioned the dreams he was having and fully expected San to laugh at him but for some reason, he didn’t. “Did you see those prints when you came up the driveway?”, Wooyoung pressed, “Please tell me I’m not hallucinating.” – “You’re not hallucinating, Woo, but please don’t tell your friends about them if you haven’t yet”, San sighed. Shaking his head, the younger muttered: “I haven’t. Didn’t think they’d believe me.” – “Do you promise me not to freak out?”, San asked carefully, making Wooyoung tense. Still, the younger nodded, so San continued: “You saw what left those prints, didn’t you? When you came home, you saw the wolf?” – “That wasn’t my drunk imagination?!”, Wooyoung gasped, clutching the other’s sleeve. The older cleared his throat, rasping: “No, that was me. I knew that you wouldn’t be as careful at night as I’d like, so I decided to keep an eye on you to make sure you’d get home safely.”

“You’re messing with me”, Wooyoung said slowly, studying San’s eyes. He couldn’t deny that the golden hue resembled the wolf’s eyes a little but that was impossible. Taking the younger’s hands in his own overly warm ones, San sighed: “I’m not. I wasn’t with Seonghwa-hyung but it was a full moon last night. There are dangerous things lurking in the night, that’s why I don’t want you nor anyone to be out after dark. I used to go out whenever and nothing happened till one night it did.” – “So, you’re a werewolf?”, Wooyoung whispered, watching San flinch. “I hate that word but I guess that’s what people consider this disease”, the older winced, “If you’re scared of me, that’s okay. If you never wanna see me again, that’s fine too but please, keep my secret. I already had to leave my hometown because people wanted to destroy me. All I want is a place, where I too can feel safe. I don’t endanger anyone and I enjoy the woods behind my cottage.”

Tucking his head under San’s chin, Wooyoung took a deep breath and hummed: “I’m not scared of you, San. It’s weird but I feel safe, knowing you were watching over me last night.” – “Would you still go out with me, let’s say, next weekend? You’ll be over your hangover by then and I had a chance to catch up with work”, the older smiled, deciding to be brave. He didn’t want Wooyoung to start overthinking their reality and maybe change his mind. Nudging San’s chest, Wooyoung chuckled: “I already said I’d go out with you and next weekend sounds perfect. No more apple cider though. I swore I wouldn’t drink that ever again.” – “I was thinking about coffee or hot chocolate but if you want, we can go for something alcoholic too”, San laughed, making the other groan: “Hell, no. Coffee sounds lovely but you know I still make the best pumpkin coffee.” – “True, maybe we should go for dinner instead because I want to take you out and not have you do all the work or judge the coffee”, San mused, ruffling Wooyoung’s hair, “I heard there was this lovely Italian place….”

[foreststarflaime]

He really did try to get it right, but it never seemed to be enough. He didn’t even really know where to start to fix this defect in him. How on earth was it so easy for everyone else? Perhaps he was just made to be alone. Some weapons were made with siblings, twin daggers alone together against the world, but not him—he was a lone katana, cold and distant from the start, folded in on himself a thousand times over and unable to reach out.

Sephiroth has trouble interacting normally with his new friends. After an unfortunate incident involving the labs, they discover why, and reassure him that they love him just the way he is.

And I’m back at it again with the Sephiroth angst hurt/comfort this time! AGS, of course, as always. What started as a short character study about his quiet nature turned into a much longer than expected lab sickfic. I merely did as the brainworms commanded, I am subject to their whims

[gremlinbehaviour]

Kipperlily holds another food truck event for her campaign, and although the Bad Kids remember to cast Detect Magic, they neglect Detect Poison. Riz soon finds himself regretting that lapse.

[angstyaches]

hii could we please get a sick ryan because she ate something stupid (thinking about the time she stole nancys cookies heheh) with nancy as the caretaker? i miss them sm :)🍄

You also requested something Ryan-centric for this post, quite a while ago, so I've combined the two.

Word Count: 4,400+

CW (PLEASE READ): species-based food intolerance, nausea, vomiting, bad self-talk, behaviour which could be interpreted as harmful to the self so please proceed with caution and be gentle with yourselves 🖤

___

“I feel my gratitude must, once again, be expressed,” Ryan said, distracting herself with words while her knife pressed down on her stack of green leaves, tomato slices, chicken, and dressing. This chaotic arrangement had somehow cost more than an entire cow used to cost in the equivalent currency. She supposed she remained indoors far too often, if culture shock could still manage to creep up on her out of nowhere.

Her lunch companion raised her eyebrows as she chewed. She had ordered clam chowder and bread, much to Ryan’s quiet and resigned dismay. Exposure to the smells of food were a challenge for her senses to begin with, but it was a special kind of hell when seafood became involved. To make things worse, she had clams and prawns and whatever else was hauled in off the coast of Portrush had once delighted her beyond reason.

To be sickened by something once loved brought an especially bittersweet tang to her mouth. She could almost hear the crashing waves, the tinkle of little Silas’s laughter –

“For… what?” Mrs. Waters pondered innocently.

“For… inviting me to convene with you over your afternoon meal,” Ryan clarified, giving a slight shake of her head. She would have to limit the extent of her olfactory indulgences as much as possible. “I understand that your schedule must come with an abundance of restrictions –”

The trickle of discomfort in Mrs. Waters’ eyes made Ryan’s words halt on her tongue. She was being too formal. She knew that. Well, she hadn’t known that. But she knew that now.

Or perhaps it was the way Ryan’s jaw threatened to rebel against her every time she lifted the fork to her mouth, her tongue becoming awash with acrid saliva. The way she chewed as though she could somehow stop the food from touching the surfaces inside her mouth. Like a fool.

Like an utter fool.

“It was really no bother at all,” Mrs. Waters assured Ryan, eyeing her bowl of soup as she carefully lifted a spoonful towards her lips. Ryan wasn’t sure if the woman was of a generally nervous disposition, or if it was Ryan, specifically, who was making her nervous. “To be honest, I was a bit anxious to meet you. My Charlie is basically working for you right now.”

“I see,” Ryan said, poking at a chunk of tomato with her fork. It wept a sickly pink juice under the pressure of the tine. She wasn’t sure she was satisfied with the idea that the young Mr. Waters was working for her; she had thought that allowing him to continuing living on the property had been a generous gesture, not a job offer.

Indeed, he would be keeping an eye on the structural integrity of the building and preventing the odd build-up of dust and grime, but didn’t most mortals perform these duties within their dwellings –?

“Not – not that I was afraid you were some kind of weirdo or anything!” Mrs. Waters exclaimed.

“Ah.”

Half a second later, Mrs. Water’s gave a nervous chuckle, which told Ryan that she should be chuckling too, and certainly shouldn’t have given a deadpan, one-word answer. To avoid having to make up for it now, she loaded her mouth full of vinegared leaves, the texture and flavours lost in a sea of tingling, unpleasant numbness between her jaws.

The sensation came on so fast that it felt like a spike had been driven down through the top of her head, its point grating at the base of her tongue. The intensity shocked her somewhat, which was a good thing; if not for the shock, she might have started in her seat and instantly spewed her food back out onto the table.

As things stood, her jaw had clenched and her lips had mashed up tightly together.

“So, you’re looking to move out to the countryside?” Mrs. Waters asked.

Ryan’s eyes were somehow dry, yet also stinging with tears.

She made a show of puffing out her cheeks and pointing towards her closed lips to buy herself more time to chew. More time to… suffer through chewing. Every cell in her body wanted to spray the wet, slippery greens as far as they would go. Her inherently liquid diet didn’t often require her jaws or her back teeth to do much work, beyond the initial slicing into the flesh of a live pray, of course. It was oddly tedious and repetitive work.

Not to mention her guts were practically revolting in protest already. Before she’d turned immortal – more immortal than most other immortals, in fact – Ryan had lived through more diseases than many creatures who still roamed the earth, and she didn’t appreciate the reminder of what sickness could feel like.

But none of that mattered. The current situation called for her to be sociable. There was no room for anything else.

The story was that she was planning to move to the countryside with her partner, who suffered from a rare lung disease and would benefit from a fresher kind of air than the stuff readily available in the suburbs. They were planning on adopting two rescue dogs, and as soon as they were settled in, Ryan planned to take back up her long-lost hobby of painting portraits of animals in Colonial-style dress. This last detail had been Ryan’s own contribution to the charade, and Nancy had raised an eyebrow at it.

The more seemingly innocuous drivel included, the more convincing the fabrication, Ryan had assured her wife, and when it seemed as though Nancy had been about to protest, Ryan had done what she generally did when Nancy was about to protest. She’d kissed her on the mouth.

She couldn’t quite tell Mrs. Waters the truth, that the house her son resided in was plagued by the densest swarm of demons the world over, or that her son himself was possessed by a demon, or that Ryan was monitoring him for fear he’d caught the attention of the most dangerous immortal on the planet.

These were simply not appropriate lunchtime topics of discussion.

“Well… that’s exciting,” Mrs. Waters smiled. She smiled more with the left side of her mouth than the right. “Can I ask why? Are you just… looking for a change, or is there a job…?”

Ryan’s lips trembled, and she wanted to smack them to make them behave. Her lungs gulped in air, despite her efforts to refrain from excessive breathing, as she swallowed the foul mouthful. It gurgled in her throat, her internal muscles twitching and spasming as it was forced down, into a stomach that felt how she imagined Felix’s did when he had to watch a creature being slaughtered.

With a disdainful curl to her lip, Ryan certainly hoped she didn’t look the way Felix did when he had to watch an animal being slaughtered.

Below the table, her stomach burbled.

She pressed a poised finger to her lips, stifled an indigestive burp, and nodded in response to Ingrid’s question. “Well, my partner, you see, has a rather uncommon lung condition…”

___

Ryan sat in her car long for an excessive amount of time after arriving home. The shadows that had descended as the garage door closed behind her had felt like a blanket encircling her shoulders, shrouding her from the prying eyes of the world. The sensation disgusted her. Ryan never had need for blankets or warmth or self-pity.

And as soon as her defences went down, they went down. Hard. The cogs in her brain began to analyse every moment of the interaction, criticise every facial expression, pick apart every selected word, twist at every hum of agreement.

Even the fact that she was sitting in her car, emotionally paralysed, told her that she, herself, needed improvement. If spending the afternoon with a human person could take this much of a toll on her, then she was in dire need of… practice. Exposure. She had once attended Lions Club meetings and taken painting lessons; perhaps it was time to explore those options again. Spend some time with beings other than witches and vampires and… others.

Ryan rested a hand against her abdomen as she pressed her spine into the car seat, feeling a rather violent tension pushing against the buttons of her crisp white shirt. Her stomach was bubbling and squelching away, as though it thought its sluggish efforts would achieve anything close to digestion.

She used the heel of her hand to knead the space beneath her ribs where her meagre meal sat like a thick slime. The wretched organ might as well have been a dried-up clay pot, for all the good it was doing her.

And yet, no matter how many strategies and recalculations spun through her brain, she couldn’t see how she could have excused herself entirely from eating. She could have implied that she was on a diet, or taking medications that limited her mealtime options, but she couldn’t see Mrs. Waters reacting well to either of those. Well, why on earth did you agree to a meeting over lunch? She would have been too polite to say this, but Ryan knew she would have been thinking it. She was thinking it herself.

Thinking about Shayne, Ryan wondered if Mrs. Waters would have felt guilt for eating her lunch if Ryan hadn’t also ordered something. If she’d learned anything from her latest protégé, it was that mortals had the fascinating ability to feel guilt over the most inevitable of their human needs.

Luckily, Ryan was not a human.

And she had things to do.

She drew her shoulders back, released the tension in her stomach - the result was an even tighter press against the buttons of her shirt, but she could ignore it - and opened the car door.

___

As she entered her study after a slow ascent of the stairs, Ryan’s stomach was snarling like a small animal attempting to assert its dominance. She gritted her teeth and bore down on her abdomen with her knuckles. If anything in there wanted out, it should… well, it should make haste. While she usually preferred to shut the door to the upstairs hallway, Ryan left it ajar today, so that she could make a brisk exit to the bathroom when the time came.

Grrrlllrrrgghh.

Ryan listened to the distressed gurgling with a muted sense of contempt. If her stomach was so unhappy with its contents, why hadn’t she thrown up already? She didn’t have all day to wait around for it to happen. Two hundred years, and two transformations later, and it seemed her earthly form was still not without its flaws.

So concerned was she with her despondent gut that she wasn’t even aware that the thrum of Nancy’s footsteps had taken a route from the bedroom to the study, and the soft knock on the doorframe made her heart jump into her raw, delicate throat.

Nancy poked her head around the door with a soft, almost slow-motion swish of her ponytail. “Oh, you’re home!”

“Nothing gets past you, does it, my love?”

“Oh, enough of that,” Nancy tsked, tugging on Ryan’s hand and pulling her about to plant a kiss on her lips.

Ryan softened a little, overcome with relief that she wasn’t married to another vampire. Despite her fantastical abilities, Nancy’s senses – the five main ones, that is – were as dull as the average mortal’s. She wouldn’t detect the scent of salad on Ryan’s breath, so long as Ryan didn’t exhale near her. Therefore, it was a very chaste, brief kiss that they shared.

“How did it… Ryan?” Nancy gasped as she stood back, holding a hand to her mouth as though to quiet herself. “Why do you look like death warmed over?”

Ryan curled her lip as she stalked over to her desk. She thumped the documents onto the wood. “I did not think this was news to you, Nan, but it did. Two hundred years ago, to be precise.”

“Sweetheart, I meant that you –”

“Yes, yes, thank you, love. Incidentally, you also look radiant this evening,” Ryan murmured. As she slumped into her chair, her stomach gave yet another obnoxious, unproductive grumble. She cleared her throat and gazed across at Nancy.

“Sorry, Ry,” Nancy said, cheeks reddening. Then she swept her hands down the front of her skirts, with an air of starting on a clean slate, as she planted herself in the plush armchair that sat to the side of Ryan’s desk. “How did everything go?”

“Fine.”

“Everything signed?”

“Of course.”

“Wonderful,” Nancy smiled, with a distinct lack of the excitement she’d had at every other point of this endeavour. “What was Charlie’s mum like?”

“Mrs. Waters,” Ryan rather snapped,“was akin to a pleasant, yet overall remarkably ordinary, individual.”

Nancy let out a gentle scoff, once again brushing her hands over her skirts. “Well, don’t overwhelm me with details.”

“I do not know what more to tell you. Except that… I am…” Ryan’s eyes widened as she trailed off. She’d been trailing off an awful lot today, even though it was a habit that irked her in others.

But a tingling, numbing wetness began to fill her mouth at an alarming rate, worse even than when she’d been taking bites of the salad that was prickling at the base of her oesophagus. The air felt like hot soup against her skin, in her lungs.

Why, why couldn’t Nancy have been occupied elsewhere? Now Ryan was obliged to share her discomfort, or continue her silence and risk giving her wife an untimely fright. “I believe I am… ‘bout to experience… emesis.”

Nancy blinked. “You –?”

Ryan’s eyes were wrenched back so hard in her skull that they ached, and her back arched forward so hard that she felt like a doll being pulled by the hair. The wheels of her desk chair rattled as she trundled out of range of anything particularly porous… Her stomach muscles clenched so hard that Ryan – in a moment of hyperbolic weakness – thought that her internal organs might come up through her nose –

And yet, while her senses braced themselves for the wet, clattering sound of stomach contents hitting the tiled floor, nothing came. Ryan swayed between emotional relief and dismay at being denied the physical relief.

“Oh, sweetheart, come,” Nancy murmured, and then her delicate, warm hands were guiding Ryan’s shoulders up and out of the desk chair. “I knew something was off about you. Did you eat?”

“I may have… ingested… a few mouthfuls of leafy matter.”

“A salad?” Nancy could neither have looked nor sounded more horrified if Ryan had hinted towards having had a stick of plutonium for lunch.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“A refusal to ingest would have resulted in…” Ryan slapped a hand to her stomach – silly as it sounded, her instinct seemed to be to try to physically suppress the spread of pain through her insides. “… Suspicion or discomfort.”

Nancy’s lower lip dropped down silently, but Ryan knew her wife well enough to guess what her thoughts were; how can someone with so much wisdom and experience be so stupid?

Thankfully, dear, sweet Nancy spared her the actual voicing of the thought.

“How… How was it?”

Amidst holding down her gorge, and fighting the urge to slump to the floor and take Nancy with her, Ryan managed to muster up a look of derision. She cast it lengthways as she hobbled from the study with her hands clasped on Nancy’s shoulders. Nancy looked back at her with a gormless grimace.

“Right. Never mind.”

___

“It. Refuses. To. Emerge,” Ryan moaned into the toilet bowl.

"Sweetheart," Nancy murmured distractedly.

Ryan flung a hand up in the air, then clapped it against her thigh in a display of finality. “It will never emerge! I shall now persist with rotting vegetation in my tract for the remainder of my existence.”

Nancy gave a light-hearted click of her tongue. “This,” she hummed, “coming from the woman who refuses to give up on a single other person on earth.”

Ryan attempted to spit the sour taste from her mouth, but her excessive saliva had dried up, leaving her with nothing but a tacky residue that clung to her cheeks like cells held together with collagen. If she’d had more spit, maybe the foul contents of her stomach would have slipped up and out of her by now, instead of sticking to her insides like leeches.

“What makes you the one and only hopeless case on this entire planet, hmm?” Nancy’s eyebrows quirked as she focused on something she’d arranged in her lap, nestled in the folds of her skirt. “What makes you so special?”

Ryan sank back from the toilet, though couldn’t quite get her head to remain straight without supporting it against the side of the bowl. She rubbed miserably at her gut; the chances of producing a physiological benefit were low, but she couldn’t fight the instinct to try. Her mood shifted once she’d realised that her wife was concocting something; not hopeful, but lured back from the brink by scientific intrigue.

Her weary eyes skimmed over a couple of ingredients that Nancy had used to throw together potions over the years, though Ryan had never seen them in this combination before. From her knowledge of Nancy’s works, it seemed to her that the result of this project would be rather… well, explosive would be a word for it.

“An elixir,” Ryan murmured, “to induce emesis?”

“Mmhmm,” Nancy’s voice pulsed in her throat, as though parting her lips to answer would have been too much of a distraction.

Disappointment clouded Ryan’s curiosity, rendering it difficult not to sink into the pains in her stomach, not to feel them so completely that everything else dimmed once again. “It will not be effective on me.”

“What if I told you I have added one very special ingredient,” Nancy said, raising one sardonic eyebrow, “for one very special lady?”

“I would remind you,” Ryan muttered, “that I am not merely a special ‘lady’, but an organism of unnatural qualities, including a resistance to the potency of –”

“In that case, you would have nothing to lose, isn’t that correct, my love?”

Ryan snatched the vial with what was probably excessive force and knocked back the liquid. Something stirred in her memory as she gulped, as though her taste buds had somewhat drifted out of slumber, just for a nanosecond. Mostly, she enjoyed how cool the fluid was as it snaked down her burning throat and carved its steady way down towards her stomach.

“It,” she spat, mouth dry as she lowered the vial, “will be ineffective.”

Nancy wore a patient smile almost as well as she wore a sweetheart neckline. More impressively, even, for Ryan knew that Nancy’s reserves of patience did not run as deep as their boys, or her students, thought. That patient smile was a thing of fine craftsmanship.

“If so,” she said softly, “I apologise. But wasn’t it worth a shot?”

Ryan had to turn her face away to avoid the humbling light of Nancy’s well-fought-for optimism. Her stomach rumbled in acknowledgment of its latest arrival, confirmed even further by a vibration through Ryan’s hand. “I suppose so.”

Nancy stretched her arms above her head, tilting her folded knees to keep her equipment and ingredients from rolling over the tiled floor. “Whew. I for one am mighty tired of this floor, Ry. Mind if we move you to the bed with a bucket instead?”

___

Bed and bucket proved a mundane combination to an immortal woman with work on the brain and an immovable lump in her stomach.

Ryan lay slumped on her side, face right at the edge of the bed so that she could keep an eye on her designated bucket, for so long that the sun set behind the curtains. About six kilometres away, a cricket began to shriek, adding itself to the din of the city. The world moved on, progressed, thrived, while Ryan lay overwhelmed with nausea, unable to digest or eject the offending food.

And yet her stomach continued to grumble its discomfort.

Nancy had stayed awake with her, fondling her hair in a way that reminded Ryan just vaguely of being fussed over by her mother. She wasn’t certain if the memory was welcome or not, and tried to let it wash over her like the tide. Nancy had also massaged Ryan’s back for a while which, whilst failing to dislodge the knots in her stomach, had done wonders for the tension in her muscles.

Gghhhhrrrlllgghh.

“Ssshh,” Ryan hissed, pressing her knuckles harshly against her stomach muscles. The pressure evidently would offer no help in inducing vomiting, but there was nothing to say a little aggression wouldn’t discourage the infuriating noises that continued to –

“Ry,” Nancy chided, closing her fingers around Ryan’s fist and guiding it halfway across the bed. She pressed Ryan's wrist into the top sheet, far away from where it could do any more persuading. “Please don’t do that. You’ll hurt yourself.”

“It is wearing on my nerves like –”

“I don’t care.” Nancy’s tone prodded at the fog of nausea and rage, and Ryan caught glimpse of herself through her wife’s eyes. “You’re wearing on mine with this nonsense. You’ve put your body through an ordeal already today, and now is the time to let it recover in whatever way it needs. Isn't that the wise thing to do?"

She exhaled noisily through her nose – was that a snort of amusement? – as Ryan’s stomach gurgled and bubbled a few inches from her elbow. Ryan’s brain flared with annoyance, which she quickly threw some reins on.

“Perhaps.”

“There is no ‘perhaps’,” Nancy said. “But you’re already suffering enough bodily, so I won’t put you through the mental torture of admitting that I'm right."

Ryan hummed in appreciation. Nancy didn't let up on her hand, so Ryan eventually turned her palm upwards so that their fingers could interlock. She almost found herself drifting off to sleep when she realised Nancy had shifted and slipped her hand away. Ryan felt her tug a wisp of Ryan's silvery-blonde hair back from her face, heard her wife holding her breath in a way that invited conversation.

“Yes?” Ryan had slurred before Nancy had even spoken.

“Will you try taking a second dose?”

It took Ryan longer than she was proud to admit to realise that Nancy was talking about the elixir she’d concocted earlier. If she thought about it hard enough, Ryan was sure that she could still feel the cool, slightly sticky medicine sitting alongside the offending mush in the pit of her stomach. Not making anything worse, but certainly not improving anything.

Ryan grunted. “I do not think it will –”

“Let me rephrase,” Nancy interrupted. “I have a second dose for you, and I strongly suggest you take it.”

With an even more aggressive grunt, Ryan hauled herself into a somewhat-upright position. It would be easier to take the useless potion than to incite further argument. She winced as the sudden movement made it feel as though her intestines were poised to crack inside of her.

“Give it to me,” she deadpanned, but Nancy was already un-stoppering the vial for her. Ryan slurped it back, fueled by nothing but the assuredness that this was not going to work, and was astonished to find herself licking her lips as soon as she’d swallowed. Even more bizarre, she found herself anticipating the smooth sensation of the medicine coursing down her throat, cooling and almost pleasant in its –

It stuck. It stuck, like a rock in the centre of her chest.

Ryan swallowed again, her posture turning rigid. She was only vaguely aware of Nancy’s hand coming up to rest on her waist.

A bubble of pressure slipped into the back of Ryan’s throat, and her stomach muscles jolted, resulting in a high-pitched exclamation and a thunderous, sloshing gurgle.

And then a belch.

A deep one, one that she felt reverberate under her lower left rib. The moment had a faint gloss of eureka to it, like she’d made a world-changing discovery, but at its core was a pit of dread, like she’d made a world-ending discovery.

She shuddered, torn halfway between turning towards the edge of the bed and turning to face her wife in disbelief.

“What… what’d you –?”

"Don't worry about it, cookie."

"But..."

In her desperate curiosity, Ryan almost choked on a mouthful of vomit. She would have ejected it all over the bedroom floor, had Nancy not laid gentle hands on the sides of her head and directed the spray downwards. There was a conveniently-placed bucket beside the bed, primed to catch and contain her vomit.

The bulk of it, at least.

As the retch had lost momentum, a small wave of thick slime had dripped from Ryan’s lower lip, hitting the floorboards between the bed and the bucket with a weighty thwop.

“Wonderful,” Ryan choked out, swiping her chin with the back of her hand. She barely had time to consider where she was going to wipe said hand when her guts gave another powerful lurch.

This time, a delicate hand slipped across the bed and tugged the rim of the bucket closer to Ryan’s side of the mattress. Nancy’s chest and stomach brushed softly against Ryan’s back.

“Great job,” Nancy murmured softly.

Ryan would have scoffed, if she’d been able to catch her breath. Great job? Great job suffering through the consequences of a bad decision? Great job smearing the hardwood with her gastric juices? She was not a child; even a child shouldn’t have been praised for anything she was doing.

Ryan cried out instinctively as she gagged again, the hollow ring of her voice echoing loudly inside the metal bucket over the gushing and splashing. She felt Nancy’s hands move to her shoulders, fingers lightly massaging the tumultuous muscles there.

"Oh," Ryan sighed as soon as she could get a word in between heaves. The mechanical harmony of clenching muscles and ejected fluids was almost as comforting as her wife's touch. After all, what could be more reassuring than the knowledge that one's body is working as it should?

"Better?" Nancy whispered, using her pinky to fish a pale curl away from the edge of Ryan's mouth.

Ryan hung her head over the side of the mattress, slack-jawed, unwilling to close her mouth and risk inhibiting further substance elimination. Nancy shifted her hands as though to hold her in place, and although she wasn't, Ryan found she was rather enjoying the illusion.

"Yes," she slurred, though she knew her ordeal was far from over. "Ineffably so."

[primal-playtime]

Have you ever wondered where you could find or be the most disgusting, inhumane degenerate possible? A place where cruelty could be a form of affection? Tumblr used to be such a place, where people like this had just started expressing their nature. It was a cesspool of vile, twisted degenerates.

Do you ever wonder what kind of place Tumblr would be now if that environment had stayed? If the degenerates had grown into the full monsters they are and could express it fully? Where every broken piece was put back into place with golden glue so the world could see the pride in their cracks because they had no shame in their flaws? They love their own twistedness, their vile natures, the darkness inside, and the insidious sensations of their desires and cravings.

Do you ever wish you could see the Tumblr where twisted, vile, insidious monsters and sick, demented, insane victims would seek each other out, indulge in each other, lose themselves within their desires, and call it love within their own sick, twisted, impure obsession?

[the-duchess-of-domination]

the sickfic to end all sickfics

i will never get tired of a boy going to bed feeling funny and waking up in the middle of the night feverish and horrifically sick.

he tries to brush off his sour stomach and tiredness and lack of appetite. after all, he’s been working long hours and eating the wrong things. a good night’s sleep is all he needs. he hardly touches his dinner and is in bed by 7:30.

he falls asleep quickly next to you, but his temperature rises and leaves him with feverish, confused dreams. you’re awoken by him mumbling deliriously, and when you ask him what’s the matter he starts muttering incoherent sentences that don’t seem to connect or conclude. you switch on a bedside lamp, and examine the pallor of his sweat-slicked face while using your palm to feel his forehead. he’s absolutely burning hot. his eyes, heavylidded, flutter.

“i don’t feel good” he manages to tell you through dry lips. his breaths come shallow and out of his mouth. you feel so sorry for him but can’t help but find him irresistible in such a weak state. you ask him where he isn’t feeling good, brushing back his bangs.

“stomach” is all he says. you probe further and ask him what kind of stomach ache it is, and with a heavy swallow he says “nauseous” and that “everything is spinning.” you lie there with him until his saliva is too much for his own mouth, and you have to help him to the bathroom. you stay by his side until he thinks he’s done.

the next morning doesn’t fare much better. he got sick a couple more times in the night, and is still running a fever. he mumbles incoherent thoughts about having to call into work sick, so worried about having to take a sick day, about how much he’ll be missing at work. he tosses layers of blankets to the floor and removes his pajamas, complaining about how hot it is. within fifteen minutes he is shivering and you have to help him put his pajamas back on.

he goes a couple hours without throwing up, and you suggest crackers. he manages to keep those down, and before long he agrees to a can of chicken soup. when you come to place the tray over his lap, he is lying there staring off into space looking so miserable and pale. you hope the soup will give a little color to his face.

he slurps the soup down to its bottom. you’re glad to see him eating, and after he’s done you take the bowl to wash. as you’re doing the dishes, you hear him coughing. you think he might be trying to clear his throat.

you hear him start to retch.

you leave the sink and come back into the bedroom. his head is hung over a trash can. he looks up.

“im sorry,” he mutters. “im so sorry. i didn’t mean to.”

this sight absolutely breaks your heart. in this woozy state he feels the need to apologize, worried about upsetting or offending you for throwing up the soup you made. you rub circles on his back and hush him as he apologizes again and again and again. after he’s done you tuck him back up, kissing his burning forehead. you sit at his bedside to play with his hair and make him sleepy. he goes in and out of sleep, and senses when you’re not there. when he wakes he weakly cries out for you, begging for you to make it all better. all you can do is pet his hair and shush him, hoping it’ll all be over soon.

[starsandauras]

Entry 10: Stable

FFXIV 30 Day Writing Challenge Prompt 10: Stable "Lung fever" is an archaic term for pneumonia.

Brigid was three years old when the lung fever set in.

She didn’t remember it well, mainly she remembered the struggle to breathe, the feeling of her parents’ hands checking her, hushed conversations that she didn’t quite understand, and William. She remembered William curled around her, silent but steady, as though he could somehow guard her from her illness. She remembered him holding her close as she coughed into his chest, and how much it hurt. She remembered holding tight to him, her breath rattling in her chest.

William never caught it. They were never able to figure out why.

Recovery was long and slow, unable to keep up with her brothers for very long before her chest started to burn, before she started coughing and couldn’t stop. Her da would pause, sigh, and easily scoop her up to carry her around. It wasn’t fair! She wanted to run around and play like all the other kids!

She got sick again. And then again. Over and over, before she reached ten years. More than a child her age should. Every time her parents fretted. Every time William was at her side. Every time recovery took that much longer. Every time they would have to spend more and more coin on her.

William still never got sick. She could cough in his face (and had a time or two, accidentally) and not once did he catch whatever illness had attacked his sister this time. Sometimes Brigid was angry at him for it, that he got to be healthy, but most of the time she was simply glad he was there for her.

Especially when he figured out how to get her back out of spasm, so that sleeping would be easier, and recovery could be that much quicker.

As she got older she got sick less, but the damage had been done. The sole blessing of her young age meant it was easier to adapt, for her body to adjust to the damage. Sometimes she could even pass for someone healthy. But when the cold sank in, when she pushed herself past what she knew were her limits, when things were stressful, she would collapse, end up with whatever illness of the lungs was passing by.

But William would be right beside her, holding her close as she coughed into his shoulder, digging his knuckles into her back. Always.

[dollgutzzz]

Sicktember Day 6: Dizziness/vertigo

Thank you to anonymous for the outline suggestion for this prompt! It was super fun to write :) 🩷

Rating: T

Media: Final Fantasy XV

Characters: Noctis, Gladiolus, mentioned Ignis

Summary: Noctis is not feeling well, but knows he can’t put off his training. He eventually pushes himself to his limit.

[littledrawsandwritesstuff]

Next Sickfic is up and to no one's surprise, it is Final Fantasy XIV. OC-centric, handles sea sickness, so expect some vomiting. That was the prompt Dizziness/Vertigo from @sicktember

[fachefaucheux]

Canticle // Chapter 44

Time for the Monday Canticle update! In which there's much ado about a blanket, and Mirk proves himself once again to be a sucker for Gen's creepiness.

Enjoy the fluff! <3