#sneezefic

[sunshinesickies]

Feveruary Day 5— “Could you just hold me?”— Jinx x Reader

Based on a request. My first time writing Jinx! I low-key ran out of motivation today and it’s not proof read, but I hope it’s okay, I just wanna do my baby justice

It started about a week ago, your suspicions that your girlfriend was coming down with a cold. At first it was just a few small comments here and there about small headaches or being achy, but nothing even close to outright admitting she might be getting sick.

Back when you’d first started dating, and even before that when you were friends, there had been a few times when you had brought up your concerns about whatever bugs she’d managed to catch at the time, but you’d learned your lesson quickly that being taken care of like that was no where near her comfort zone.

By now, Jinx had become more used to vocalizing her needs and quite often complains about her gadgets and whatnot, but what she still isn’t used to, is vulnerability. Especially when it comes to sickness. She has no problems taking care of you when you’re feeling under the weather, but she herself doesn’t get sick often, and if she does, she rarely lets you know.

So you treaded carefully. But that was a while ago, and you and Jinx have come really far in your relationship and how you go about being with each other. Still, this whole week you’ve been tentative, unsure of how to approach the subject that your girlfriend was very clearly sick and should definitely be resting, not pulling all-nighters to work on her projects.

A few days ago you’d decided that for now, you weren’t going to mention her growing cold unless it got drastically worse, and that for now, you’d just make sure to do little things to make her life easier. Things like reminding her to eat since she often skips meals when’s she’s deep in her work, or bringing her a fresh glass of water, claiming you ‘just want her to stay hydrated’, and buying boxes of tissues and leaving them inconspicuously where you know she’ll find them if she needs them.

Your hope was that eventually, she’d give in and come to you about her illness. But now, almost a week later, you’d begun to believe it just wasn’t something she was comfortable with. You hope that one day she’ll invite you in completely, though you know it will take time, and you’re okay with that. Because there’s no one else you’d rather be with, no one else you rather be there for, and you know she loves you. So you’ll be patient, because you love her too.

Your attention is pulled away from your thoughts when you distantly hear a harsh sneeze followed by a muttered ‘bless me’ coming from Jinx’s workshop. You roll your eyes slightly with a small chuckle. You’d lost track of how many times that had happened even just today, though you took note that Jinx blessed herself out loud every single time without fail. It made you smile each time you learned a new little quirk of your girlfriend’s. A moment later you hear the muffled sounds of her blowing her nose, which you really hope she’s doing so in some of the tissues you’d strategically placed earlier.

You return to your own activity, doing your best to focus and distract yourself from the desire to just storm into the workshop, scoop up your stubborn girlfriend, wrap her in a blanket like a burrito and hold her until she’s better. She’ll come to you when she’s ready. You remind yourself gently.

A few hours later and you’ve finished your work and are now cozied up on Jinx’s old battered couch with a soft blanket, reading a book. A sudden BOOM makes your head jerk up from the pages, your senses immediately going on high alter.

Random explosions and sudden loud noises are something you’ve grown used to, you are dating Jinx after all, but something about this one felt off to you. Not to mention it was quickly followed by a string of unhinged cursing. Another explosive sound echos from the other room and you’re quickly on your feet, jumping up and sprinting to the source.

You burst into the workshop to find Jinx in the middle of what seems to be an emotional meltdown—most likely caused by her sickness, you guess. Once you see she’s not in any active danger, you wait a moment to see if she’ll calm down. She’s swearing up a storm, pacing in front of her workbench and grumbling angrily towards herself and at whatever she’s holding in her hands.

You decide to make yourself known when she slumps down on her stool, tossing her gadget across the workbench with an exasperated huff. “Jinx? Babe you alright, I heard some booms.” You try to speak as softly as possible as to not to startle her. She turns quickly to watch as you further enter the room, her hands pulling at her long braids which are messy and becoming undone.

“oh, hey toots. Everything’s just peachy.” She drawls sarcastically. “And haven’t you ever heard an explosion before? I mean have ya met me?” She tries to deflect but you give her a pointed look. “Jinx.” Is all you have to say and right then, you can see her resolve leaving as her shoulder sag even more and she gazes towards the ground.

“Jus’ a little mishap…” She gestures vaguely in the direction her invention rolled off to. “…can’t get the stupid thing to work, maybe I need to sleep on it.” She mutters, obviously annoyed at herself. You calmly close the distance between you, but leave enough space so she doesn’t feel crowded by your presence.

“You, admitting you need sleep? Never thought the day would come.” You joke lightly to keep yourself from showing your growing worry. Now that you’re closer, you can see smudges of gunpowder and oil all over her skin and clothes, probably from the explosion. Your heart clenches as the thought of her getting impacted by it, at least she didn’t seem hurt.

But she is without a doubt sick. Her normally pale face is alarmingly ghostly yet her cheeks are flushed a deep pink in contrast, and her forehead is practically dripping with sweat from working herself too hard, and from the fever you know she has.

She smiles slightly at your words but her light chuckle quickly turns into a deep coughing fit that has her doubled over and you rushing to rub her back and hold her steady. “Jinx” You repeat when she’s done and she looks up at you, her amethyst eyes watery and drooping with exhaustion. You cup the side of her face with you hand, frowning deeply at the amount of heat you feel.

“Let’s take a break, hmm? Get ya cleaned up?” You suggest gently and you can see her mind spinning, calculating her next move. With the softness in your tone, and the tenderness of your thumb brushing her cheek, she finally gives in, allowing you to lead her to the bathroom. You sit her down on the closed toilet seat and turn to the sink, wetting a cloth with warm water and a little soap.

Silently, she lets you clean off her face, arms, and neck. You could have had her get in the shower, but that’s a battle for another time, you decided as you watched her eyes flutter between open and closed while you worked. When you’re done, you guide Jinx to your makeshift bed, letting her change out of her dirty clothes while you grab her a glass of water.

When you return, she’s already in bed and you hide your surprise that you didn’t have to convince her further. She watches you with tired eyes as you set the water on the nightstand for later before you sit on the edge of the bed. “Is there anything else I can do to uh…” You don’t exactly know how to phrase it, but she nods as you trail off.

“Could, could you maybe just hold me?” Jinx whispers so low and so shyly you almost don’t hear it, but of course you do, because all your love and attention is on her. You smile softly as you nod and immediately move to get into bed with her. “Of course, babes.” She wastes no time snuggling close to your side, resting her head to your chest with a deep sigh.

You wrap your arms tightly around her, grounding her to the moment, and you feel her body soften as she finally allows herself to start relaxing. You stay like this for so long, and she’s so quiet, that you’re sure she’s asleep when you whisper the question that’s been on your mind all week.

“Why is it so hard for you to let yourself be sick, love?” You murmur, your tone one of pure curiosity, with the intent to understand, not a hint of accusation anywhere. She hears you, a breathes in deeply, shifting slightly in your hold. You’re taken aback when she answers quietly a moment later. “I-I dunno…but I think ‘m working on it.” Her words are soft and honest.

“I know you are. I’m here for you Jinx.” You hum, placing a kiss to her blue hair as you hold her slightly shivering form closer. She settles back down, her eyes still closed, but a few minutes later you feel her chest rise unevenly against you. She attempts to pull away but you hold her gently in place, a silent reassurance that its okay.

“Heh’EsSShhhuh! HhHih—hiHSSchHhihww!!” She releases two strong sneezes against your shirt then gives a harsh sniffle. “ugh bless me” she murmurs as you hum the words at the same time.

You look down at her, amused confusion in your expression. “You do that a lot.” You comment lightly. Your girlfriend looks up at you, her tired eyes imploring you to expand. “You bless yourself every time you sneeze.” You explain your observation.

“Oh yeah, I guess I do. I don’t think I even realize I’m doing it, it’s just a force of habit from back when I was…alone so much.” She trails off quietly, gaze shifting down. You hold her a touch tighter.

“Well…you’re not anymore. And as your girlfriend it’s now my job to say it.” You smile at her with a soft toothy grin. Jinx lets out a rough chuckle. “You’re a dork.” She playfully roles her eyes. “Buuutttt I’m your dork…” you pause a moment when you feel her chest rise slightly against yours again and for a moment time freezes as you marvel at her adorable pre-sneeze face before she’s tucking her pink nose away from your face.

“NuhHnnPptsshhiiww!” She sneezes once more before her nose finally seems to be done. She groans into your chest. “…and bless you.” You hum gently as she sniffles wetly. “Thandks.” Jinx mumbles, voice thick with congestion as she shifts around a little until she’s comfortable again.

“ughhh I feel like absolute crap.” She complains and you have to hold back an eye roll. “I know. But maybe you’ll let me take care of you now? I think you pushed yourself a litte too much this week. You need to rest.” You say, trying your new grounds and she hums in agreement.

“Fineeee. But only ‘cuz I love you. Well, and ‘cuz that stupid gadget refuses to work.” She mumbles, followed by a loud yawn.

You chuckle lightly as your hand moves to start running along her back under her loose shirt. “Thank you baby. Now just sleep, Jinx. I’ll be here.”

[4108927]

pretty long holdback session -> stifled sneeze -> immediate accidental half stifle -> full let out -> “oh fuck, that feels goo—” -> desperately let out fit

[wickedsniffles]

Domestic Bliss

Summary: A bit of morning sex during allergy season. Wade has the kink. Logan has the allergies ❤️ (This got SO out of control but holy moly was it fun to write)

Pairing: Wade Wilson aka Deadpool x Logan Howlett aka Wolverine

Rating: Explicit

Tags: established relationship, oral sex, handjobs, snz, kink!Wade, praise kink, pet names, fluff

Word Count: 1.2K

Wade's situated between Logan's legs, on his stomach, in the warm nest of their bed. He's sucking his cock in an almost dreamlike state, only half focused on the task at hand (in mouth). As nice as it is to get his partner off, as much as he loves to do it…it's getting harder and harder to ignore his own arousal. 

It's all because of the look on Logan's face. Flushed pink and worrying at his lip, Logan is the fucking picture of sexual pleasure. His pretty hazel eyes laser focused on Wade, breathing heavy as he fights not to arch up into his mouth. 

One hand sits on top of Wade's head, fingernails digging into his scalp gently. The other stays at his side, wandering up to his face every once in a while to scrub at his nose. The nose that is much darker shade of pink than his face, itchy and irritated, only drawing attention to the handsome shape and strong outline. 

Wait, what? 

Yeah, you read that right. Wade's unashamedly sucking cock and getting off to how Logan looks like he's trying hard to stay in the moment, focus on Wade, and not give in to the itch they both know is torturing him. 

It's allergy season, baby. And they might both be built to heal anything from a papercut to an axe wound, but that healing factor doesn't do shit against a nose as sensitive as Logan's. He's a wreck with the first warm breeze. 

A polite wreck, to be sure. Uncharacteristically polite. Of course, with Logan being Logan, there's no way he'd come out and admit to being taken down by something as small as a grain of pollen. The first time Wade notices him being allergic to something, Logan stifles it so well that he almost misses it entirely. Like a fucking sneeze ninja. 

They'd been cuddling together on the couch. Logan had just, like, frozen in place and pressed a knuckle to the side of his nose. His shoulders shook once, twice, three times. A soft exhale. 

Wade remembers bristling. Kink activated. “Um…bless you?” 

Logan had gone bright red down to the tips of his ears. “Shut up.”

The more attention Wade paid – and trust him, audience, he was paying plenty of attention now – the more times he caught him. When there's a lot of dust. When it's cold outside. Around certain flowers. God help him. As months passed and they got more comfortable around one another, Logan stopped stifling them like that every time. But Wade knew it was still his first instinct. 

Wade moans around what's in his mouth and takes Logan deeper, pressing his hips hard into the mattress. He can't believe Logan hasn't sneezed since he started sucking him off. 

But he looks like he might. Wade knows the look by now. A lot of blinking with those long pretty eyelashes. Expression going all distant and far away. Breath hitching, lips parting.  

That, or he's about to come. The fact that the two expressions are so similar makes another wave of heat clench in Wade's abdomen. 

“So fuckin' – good, baby,” Logan croaks, sounding absolutely wrecked. He scrubs at his nose with a thick sniffle, swallowing hard. “You gettin’ close too?” 

Wade whines his affirmative. I’d be closer if you indulged my weird kinks, bub. 

Smiling at that, Logan thrusts deeper into his mouth, making Wade take more, and god that’s a treat in itself. 

“You’re –” his breath hitches, followed by another irritated sniff.  “You’re gonna make me come,” he says. Nose scrunching in that familiar way.  “Wade –” 

He can’t take it anymore. Wade takes the hand that Logan has on his head and winds his fingers through, then grabs his other hand by the wrist until he’s locked in place. Oh, oops, sorry, I’m sooo cute and I just wanna hold your hands while I suck you off. Or do I have ulterior motives? 

They make eye contact. Logan tries to break loose from the grip, but Wade’s not letting him move an inch. Logan’s no idiot. He knows exactly what Wade’s trying to do, what he’d like to happen. His eyes narrow, both with exasperation and the effort of trying to hold back. Wade’s heart leaps. 

“You are f-fucking…” 

Oh, he’s not holding back this time. Wade grins like the devil around the cock in his mouth. 

“Heh…heh’ESSH-uh! Esshh! ESSHH-uh!”

Logan sneezes into his shoulder, breathy and desperate. Finally finally finally – 

That’s all Wade needs. With a long, muffled whimper, he comes hard against the sheets, feeling the warmth of it bloom against his stomach with each spasm. He relaxes into the mess, going boneless, and hears Logan scoff out a laugh. 

Wrestling his hands free, he carefully takes himself out of Wade’s mouth. 

“Bless you,” Wade manages, working his jaw. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Logan answers. “I was gonna say ridiculous.” 

“Yeah.” He’s definitely not gonna deny that. Wade Wilson is the original seven herbs and spices of ridiculous, with some added kick to keep people on their toes. 

His Wolverine’s eyes crinkle up into a smile. “C’mere, Red.” 

Crawling up until he’s straddling Logan’s cock, Wade can’t help but mirror the expression. There’s no one else on this planet – no one else in the multiverse – who matches his freak like Logan does. Who loves him like Logan does. They’re two perfect halves of the same fucked up pepperoni pizza. 

Wade rubs his half-hard cock against Logan’s until he’s groaning with need, gripping it tight before leaning in to kiss that spot on his neck that makes him all hot under the collar. Logan gasps instantly and almost crushes Wade to him, pressing his face into Wade’s old t-shirt. Tilting his head for better access. 

“Fuck, please,” he says, breath hot on Wade’s skin through the material. 

He comes undone in only a few strokes, in just a handful of open-mouthed kisses pressed to his neck. Logan pants and gasps through every pulse of his orgasm, arching into Wade’s hand as Wade strokes him through it. 

“Good boy,” Wade tells him, low and hot in the shell of Logan’s ear. He shudders at the praise, dribbling a little more come with the smallest sound of need. Fuck. 

They breathe for a while, cuddled close like that. The feeling of Logan’s arms around him and listening to his pulse gradually slow against Wade’s cheek is his idea of a lazy morning well spent. He’d gladly spend hours like this, if it weren’t for the mess they’re currently covered in starting to get cold. Hell, they might come right back here to their little bed nest after they shower. 

“C’mon, peanut,” he says eventually. “Let’s get cleaned up. We’re gonna be stuck together if we don’t move now.” 

Logan doesn’t answer at first. When he does, his response is another trio of hitched sneezes into the collar of Wade’s shirt, followed by an irritated growl. 

“Sorry. And yeah, let’s go,” he sighs, rubbing at his itchy nose with the back of his hand. “Wade, get offa me.”  

Wade can’t move; he’s stunned into horny silence, more than aware of his cock filling up against Logan’s thigh. 

Once he realizes what’s going on, Logan breaks out in an embarrassed grin, shoving Wade off of his lap and onto the mattress. 

“You are the fucking worst.” 

“I love you too, babygirl,” Wade says sweetly. “And bless you!”

[silentsneezes]

in regards to your essential oils post: i am absolutely interested and i think i can safely say others would be too 👀 if you want to write if you definitely should

i hope this is worth the wait anon! here's 1.7k of j/ayce being helplessly allergic to essential oils

cw for talk about chronic illness/disability and mess! it's mostly just spray, but after the line "There’s a few moments of silence, broken only by Jayce’s desperate gasps" there are some more descriptions of mess

On a good day, there’s little to nothing Viktor can’t manage with a cane and the occasional break to sit down. He’s proven most undercity doctors wrong just by living past 25, and yet both he and Jayce understand the importance of the Hex Core. It’s their biggest breakthrough yet, their closest glimpse of magic aside from Jayce’s rune bracelet. 

Still, it’s not enough. Viktor knows it’s not enough to rely on the half baked mystery of natural runes. So he does what he can. He drinks enough water, he attempts to sleep consistently, he’s even taken up stretching for God’s sake. You may be asking “why now?”, to which he would answer “Jayce.”

Jayce has done everything for him, would do anything for him. So even if Viktor gave up years ago, he refuses to sit back and allow Jayce to watch him bide his time. He’s trying, damnit. 

Today, that effort entails using a new combination of essential oils Jayce purchased— a tasteful mix of eucalyptus, rosemary, and chamomile. Viktor has always denied such simple pain relief techniques, finding it to be more bothersome than it is effective. Except Jayce is nothing if not persuasive and he insists on indulging in buying expensive oils and herbs for his partner– it doesn’t help that Viktor is head over heels in love with him. 

Viktor doesn’t even want to know how much this new batch must’ve cost, but he will admit it seems promising as Jayce begins massaging it over his back. Viktor is laid face down on the cot in the lab, his arms pinned by his sides as Jayce straddles him from behind. Jayce is careful not to put any unwanted weight on Viktor’s hips or bad leg, propping himself up on the edges of the cot cautiously. His legs are bent at the knees, forcing him to rest his ass against Viktor’s– the first few times he’d massaged Viktor, Jayce asked for reassurance that he wasn’t too heavy or causing any pain every few minutes, but by now he’s figured out which position works best. 

Jayce’s hands work over Viktor’s upper shoulders, his thumbs rubbing little circles over the especially tense knots. Viktor emits quiet noises of pleasure as Jayce kneads his fingers into the sore sections of his back, taut and misshapen due to his brace. His spine bends awkwardly at the center, having contorted into an abrasive arch over the years. Still, he looks perfect in Jayce’s eyes. Every notch of his spine, pressing against his skin and accentuating his thin frame. Every mole and freckle gone unnoticed by his previous lovers. Every scar left along his back from the metal brackets of the brace chafing or cutting his porcelain skin. It’s all beautiful. 

Occasionally, Jayce will lean forwards and press a kiss to Viktor’s back, intermixing the massage with a gentle affection. As he does so, Jayce feels a buzzing sensation begin to work its way from the back of his sinuses up to the tip of his nose. He raises a hand, rubbing the bothersome appendage against its backside. Unfortunately, he gets a whiff of the strongly scented oils coating his palms. Fuck. 

Jayce’s breath catches in his throat, a vocal hitch forcing its way out, “hhHH-” Jayce places one hand on the small of Viktor’s back, steading himself so he doesn’t jostle Viktor at all. 

“Are you okay?” Viktor murmurs at the touch, half asleep under Jayce– it isn’t uncommon for him to fall asleep when Jayce massages his back. Jayce nods wordlessly before remembering Viktor can’t see him, “Yeah, f-hhih-fine…”

Jayce’s hands continue working over Viktor’s shoulders, but his mind remains distracted by that tantalizing itch dancing through his nose. It forces his nostrils to flare every so often, his eyes beginning to water with every hitch that catches in his chest. Viktor can feel every minuscule movement Jayce makes, suddenly feeling wide awake as he registers the little hitches. 

Unfortunately for Jayce, the buzzing worsens, and those “little hitches” are quick to turn into full on gasps, “hhHH-uh… hhheh-hhHHngh… hh’uUHH’ hHHHHRSCHHHEw!” 

Jayce barely turns his head to the side in time, the spray of the expulsion narrowly missing Viktor’s exposed back. His body shudders over Viktor’s, his thighs tightening their hold around his partner ever so slightly. 

“Bless you,” Viktor murmurs, feeling his abdomen fill with a swirling heat. Jayce rubs his nose against his shoulder, wrinkling the appendage and sniffling, desperate to subdue the continuous itch, “Shhsorry- did I get you?”

“No,” Viktor answers simply, humming as Jayce’s big hands begin their work again. Viktor waits, listening with rapt attention to every little shift in Jayce’s breathing, hoping the sneeze wasn’t just a single expulsion. 

A minute later, Jayce stupidly leans down to press a light kiss to the mole on Viktor’s upper left shoulder out of habit. As soon as his nose nears Viktor’s oil-covered back, it twitches. He takes in a desperate, “hhHHH-” before snapping forward with no other warning, “hhHGSSXCHHHew!ugh…” Jayce’s head is forced down as he convulses with the expulsion, his nose briefly pressing against Viktor’s shoulder. 

Viktor shivers as he feels the spray cast upon his bare skin, intermixing with the dampness of the oils. He swallows a moan as Jayce’s nose makes contact with his back, only heightening his arousal. He can feel Jayce’s weight shift, a bit more pressure being applied to his ass as Jayce is forced to change positions. 

Jayce’s eyes widen as he realizes the sheen of spray left on Viktor’s skin, blushing crimson and stuttering to apologize as his breath hitches again, “oh god VhhhViktor I’m s-hhH-so hhuHH- so sorrhhhHRRSXCHHh’uh!” 

Never has Jayce been hit by an allergen so intensely, having thought he had no allergies until this very moment. But the itch ravaging his nose is evidence enough to prove him wrong, causing him to hitch and whine. He can’t even raise his hands to cover or attend to the twitching appendage, knowing they’re both coated with the essential oils. 

“hhHhhngh- ehhhhHh- huh’hhHHEH-“ Jayce builds up to yet another sneeze, his hands now holding Viktor’s waist tightly in an attempt to keep some semblance of control, “hhHZZSXCHHuh’hh!”

The sneeze mists Viktor’s skin again, causing arousal to thrum throughout his body. It doesn’t help that he can feel Jayce’s hips buck against his ass with every expulsion. He muffles a moan into the cot’s surface, his body alight with desire. 

Jayce buries his nose against his own shoulder, berating the appendage as best he can without the use of his hands, “hhhuhh-ngh’uh,” Jayce’s breathless hitches are audible despite his efforts to suppress them. 

‘Foolish’ Viktor thinks upon hearing Jayce’s attempts at suppressing the build up. Viktor of all people knows just how loud Jayce’s hitching can get, having toyed with inducing his partner on many occasions. 

“hhHihH- Vik I’mhhh-I’m ghhehHgoing to sn-hhhHPDTSCHhew!” Jayce once again mists Viktor’s skin, his hands holding onto Viktor’s waist in utter desperation as the sneeze tears through him. Jayce stays bent over, not bothering to straighten up as he feels his breath catch haphazardly again. 

There’s a few moments of silence, broken only by Jayce’s desperate gasps before, “hhHHGGDZSCHh’uhh!” Jayce freezes as he feels a string of mess trail down his upper lip. Before he can move to catch it, it falls onto the nape of Viktor’s neck, causing the pinned man to shudder. Viktor doesn’t bother muffling his moan this time, his imagination running wild at the sensation of the mess against his skin. 

Jayce is quick to clean it up, gently swiping his fingers over the wet splotch and cringing at the sensation of the snot against his skin. He wipes it on his pant leg, murmuring a stuttered, broken apology, “sorry, I thinkhhhI’m hhHHallerghhHiHH– HHRRXSCHHeWw’huh! snNDFF- allergic.” 

At this point, Jayce’s thighs are pressing tightly against Viktor’s hips in order to maintain his balance, his big hands cupping Viktor’s bare waist. With every expulsion, Viktor can feel Jayce’s fingers grip his sides as the sneezes rack his body. 

The fact that Viktor can’t even see Jayce just makes him all the more aroused. Of course he enjoys watching Jayce sneeze, finding his expressions utterly enrapturing, but being pinned face down is equally as exciting; it leaves some of the experience up to imagination, allowing Viktor to picture his partner’s appearance while feeling every movement atop him. 

It doesn’t take long for Jayce to recognize that he’s not going to stop sneezing, unable to do anything but blink away allergic tears as sneeze after sneeze tears through his strong frame. After a little, Viktor shifts, signaling for Jayce to move off of him. Obedient as ever, Jayce attempts to do so, nearly stumbling over as he dismounts his partner. 

Once he finds his footing, Jayce looks at Viktor in utter disarray. His eyes and nose are streaming, a sheen of mess trailing down his upper lip, his nostrils flaring, his eyebrows knit together in a constant pre-sneeze expression. He holds his hands out in front of him helplessly, unable to tend to his nose. 

Wordlessly, Viktor stands and pulls Jayce into a kiss, taking his partner by surprise. Jayce melts into the kiss once his initial shock at the affection dissipates, reminding himself that Viktor finds his disheveled mess of a state hot rather than disgusting. Jayce has one arm draped around Viktor’s waist in support, his other hand tangling itself in his partner’s hair. He finds himself momentarily relieved as his and Viktor’s tongues dance along with each other.

Unfortunately for Jayce, the itch’s temporary dormancy is over. He takes in a desperate, quick inhale, his lips still pressed to Viktor’s, “hhHH-” before shuddering with a wet sneeze, “HHGGSXCHHew!” Jayce blushes crimson as he feels the spray of the sneeze intermix with the kiss, but his embarrassment is forgotten as Viktor moans, deepening their embrace. 

By the time Jayce’s allergies finally die down, it’s safe to say Viktor’s pain has been tended to… though not how the couple had initially intended. 

“You know,” Viktor murmurs lazily as he sits beside Jayce on the cot, “I now see the value of those essential oils you insist on purchasing.” He grins coyly at Jayce, watching his cheeks flush in response to the slight taunt.

[annie-sniffles]

desc ♡ sum sneezes from my very first winter cold xx

(tried to keep it down but its hard when a virus is teasing your nose. it tickled me until i desperately was sneezing every few minutes. this was all i could catch on camera in the duration of my recovery<3)

requests open!

[whumpusgumpus]

Caught him mid flu sneezing fit 👀

[syncsnzthings]

SFW OC snzfic - lab experiment - Rowan and Daniel

I've been obsessed with this concept for a while, I can't stop thinking about it.

SUMMARY: Rowan agreed to be the test subject for his friend, who works in/runs a lab that tests pharmaceuticals for companies that make allergy meds. He has no idea that he's not testing an antihistamine; it's something a lot more interesting. WARNINGS: Sneezing, long holdbacks (in a way), mild scientific malpractice if you squint, something akin to sneeze torture but not really WORDS: 3,100

━━━━━»•»🌺

The door to the lab finally opens and Rowan's head perks up to see Daniel wheeling in a tray covered by a thin sheet of cloth. Rowan, ever eager to help, had agreed to be the first test subject for a compound Daniel's lab had produced. Although he works in data entry and has no connections to the actual lab practices—save for his friendship with Daniel—he always ends up getting dragged into these things. He has such a hard time saying no when he's the best test subject any of them can think of.

Daniel and his lab associates do contract work for various pharmaceutical companies, mainly companies that produce allergy medication. Because of this—and factors unknown to Rowan, though he knew there were some—Daniel had taken up a project in creating his own compound with some of the research money the lab had been granted.

The basic rundown he was given was that this medication was supposed to prevent him from sneezing. It's a challenge finding something that will halt Rowan's allergies entirely; he seems to be allergic to everything under the sun, and he's never found an allergy medication that completely mitigates all of his symptoms. Hence, he's the perfect test subject for whatever Daniel and his associates cook up.

"Rowan," Daniel greets him with a friendly smile after he crosses the short distance from the door to the side of the medical cot Rowan is sitting on. He stills the cart, adjusts it slightly to be within reach but not in the way, then turns his full attention to Rowan. "Are you ready to test this out? You haven't taken your usual allergy medication today?"

Rowan returns the smile , his back straightening up in anticipation for the test. "Just like you said. I hope it's worth it, I've been itchy all day."

"Even in the winter, with no seasonal allergens around, your nose is insatiable," Daniel replies, dry amusement coloring his usually professional tone. "And you swallowed the liquid ten minutes ago?" Rowan fixes him with a look. "I have to cover all my bases. It's important that everything is accounted for."

"Yes, I took the stuff when you told me to and then came right here," Rowan says. "I've been waiting here for you forever, you know."

"Ten minutes is hardly forever," Daniel says distractedly. He pinches the thin cloth covering the cart between gloved fingers and tugs it aside, folding it haphazardly and placing it on the counter lining the adjacent wall.

Rowan finally gets a glimpse of what's underneath. He's used to a sight similar to this because of his history of volunteering as a test subject: a tray of allergens, each guaranteed to produce some kind of reaction in him. Usually the tests are for antihistamines, so triggering his allergies doesn't make him react too horribly. This time, he finds himself getting slightly nervous. Daniel had never used the word antihistamine this time, he only said that it was supposed to stop him from sneezing. Daniel is nothing if not precise, so the sudden switch in vocabulary had instantly struck Rowan as odd. He's off his usual allergy meds, and he has an unknown substance working its way through his blood.

"Are you ready to begin?" Daniel turns his eyes back to Rowan, a flash of something Rowan doesn't recognize passing over his expression.

"Well, as ready as I ever am, I guess!" Rowan replies, trying to sound chipper despite his increased nerve.

Daniel nods once. He reaches for the tray on the cart and picks up a long feather, pointed at the tip but quickly morphing into soft disarray closer to the base. Rowan takes in a quick anticipatory breath as Daniel's hand approaches his face. The sharp tip of the feather begins tracing a gentle path along the rims of Rowan's nose and his breath catches again, this time caused by the tickle that instantly spreads up through his sinuses. Whatever it is that Daniel had him take, it did not make his nose any less sensitive to the stimulus.

Rowan pauses, his breath hitching sharply for a long moment. He's entirely prepared to sneeze and let Daniel mark this one down as a failure for now. But nothing happens. His breath evens out again only to pick back up into quick hitches and gasps. He sniffles and blinks his eyes open to look at Daniel.

"Wahh- hih! What's hahhppening? I need to… ihh!" Rowan stutters through his unsteady breathing. His vision is slightly unfocussed, but he swears he sees Daniel's lips quirk up into a satisfied smirk.

"It looks like the compound is working perfectly," Daniel offers as a simple, unhelpful answer. He continues teasing Rowan's nose with the feather, turning it on its side now to let the soft, flexible plumes rub against Rowan's sensitive nostrils.

Rowan twists his head to the side and Daniel lets him do it, lowering his hand to watch intently for a reaction. Rowan's hands hover uselessly in front of his face, steepled to catch a sneeze that doesn't seem to be coming. His shoulder shake with rapid breaths and his face is pinched in pre-sneeze agony. "Haa-! Hih! Ihhh! Ahh… HIH! Uhh…"

After a moment, the immediate need to sneeze seems to pass with no real result, leaving Rowan itchy and irritated. He brings the heel of his hand up to scrub at the underside of his nose, trying to rid himself of the tickly feeling. He turns watery eyes to Daniel. "Wha-hat's going on?"

"This compound is designed to stop you from sneezing, not remove the urge to do so." Daniel watches Rowan rub his nose, then reaches out with his unoccupied hand to gently take hold of his wrist and pry Rowan's hand away from his face. "It's going to take some… extensive testing to be sure it works to its full capacity."

Rowan lets out a shaky breath and sniffles softly. "How much testing?" His eyes fall down to the tray piled with allergens and he suddenly feels much more apprehensive than earlier.

"I'd like to see how far I can trigger your allergies before your body fights the compound entirely. If it does at all, that is." Daniel doesn't wait for a response before reaching down to set the feather back on the tray. He switches to a small, unlabeled glass container with a spritzer. He unscrews the cap, extends it out to Rowan, and lifts it. "Go ahead and give this a sniff."

Rowan can already smell the strong scent wafting out of the container. It's definitely a perfume. His nose twitches with a renewed tickle without even needing to sniff the substance. But Daniel keeps the container held out to him, so Rowan reluctantly leans forward and gives the pungent fumes a tiny sniff. His eyes glaze over with moisture and his nose twitches again and his breath catches.

Daniel urges the container forward. "Again. I need you to take a deep breath through your nose."

Rowan makes a small noise in his throat, half way between a whimper and a gasp, but he does it again. He sniffs the perfume until he has to pull back to gasp again, his nostrils flaring in instant irritation. His sinuses burn and his breath catches, his chest heaving with the rapid inhalations.

Daniel looks satisfied with that and he replaces the cap back on the top of the container. He considers for a moment, then seems to decide on something. He aims the spritzer directly at Rowan and gives a few sprays. The droplets land everywhere; on Rowan's shirt, on his face, on his lap, on his hands which are once again poised in front of his face ready to catch the sneeze that won't come.

Rowan's eyes widen in distress for a brief moment before they flutter shut again. The scent of perfume surrounds them, invading every inch of Rowan's allergic nose and giving him no reprieve from the overwhelming burning, ticklish sensation. He gasps in shallow, rapid breaths that brig him closer and closer to the relief he so desperately needs. It's being kept just out of his reach, driving him wild with need. His hands begin fanning in front of his face like it'll help him escape the feeling.

"Still working as intended," Daniel notes, his own interest barely masked by scientific detachment. He watches as Rowan struggles against his allergies.

Rowan is stuck like this for several minutes, unable to get a single breath in past his desperate hitching and sniffling. He briefly tries to rub at his nose again, but the scent of the perfume is still stuck to his hands and only causes him to break out into another fit of helpless gasps. Allergic tears well up in his eyes and he doesn't have the control to blink them away.

Wordlessly, Daniel lifts a cut sprig of goldenrod blooms from the tray of allergens. As soon as Rowan's breath has almost returned to a manageable pace, Daniel brings the pollen coated flowers up to his face and rubs them directly against his pink, twitchy nostrils.

Rowan's nose is a sight; bright pink, quivering uncontrollably, reacting to even the slightest stimulation. The pollen sets him off again nearly instantly. There's a light dusting of golden dust coating his flaring nostrils and tears streaming down his cheeks. The way he's desperately sucking in breaths is starting to sound closer and closer to whimpers and moans of distress.

"You're quite a sight like this, you know," Daniel comments. He sets the flowers on the cot next to where Rowan is seated and steps directly in front of him. He can see the way Rowan's nose is running, the way he's only barely managing to contain the mess by sniffling nearly constantly—as often as his frantic breaths will allow.

Daniel lifts his hand up to Rowan's face. He uses his thumb to swipe away a tear that falls down his face, then drags it across his cheek toward his nose. Gently, he presses the pad of his thumb against the twitching tip of Rowan's nose. Rowan only reacts by gasping deeply and then returning to his efforts to mitigate his suffering. Daniel can't help an amused hum. He begins rubbing a small circle on the tip of Rowan's nose, adding pressure to manipulate and squish the flesh under his finger.

"The effects of the compound can only reach so far. If we stimulate your nose enough, you might just be able to get a sneeze out," Daniel says thoughtfully, his eyes laser focused on Rowan's nose. He presses up on Rowan's nose and watches his nostrils flare frantically with every breath. "You'd like some relief, wouldn't you? We'll have to increase the discomfort before you can let it out, obviously, but it'll be worth it."

Rowan can only nod rapidly in response, the movement causing Daniel's thumb to rub and press against his irritated skin. Daniel's lips quirk up and he removes his hand from Rowan's face. He looks down at the tray again and takes a moment to scan his options. While he puts together a plan in his mind, he takes a vial of chinkni in his hand and absently holds it near Rowan's face.

"Here, sniff as much of this as you can," he instructs. He doesn't even have to look to know Rowan is eagerly following his instructions. He can hear the desperate little sniffs and feel the puffs of breath against his hand.

Once he can no longer feel Rowan's breath on his hand and he can hear his test subjects whines rise in pitch, Daniel sets the vial down and reaches for the feather again. He tips another vial on its side and sprinkles a layer of dust over the length of the feather, coating it entirely. He does the same with a pepper shaker, then lifts the feather to inspect it, making sure the entire thing is coated in the substances.

Daniel's eyes flick over to Rowan before he decides to start. Rowan has completely given up on sniffing back the tide of runny mucus in his nose, instead just letting it drip down his upper lip in a steady stream. Allergic tears are flowing non stop from his eyes and he looks like he might break at any moment. Daniel plucks a tissue from the small packet on his tray and uses it to wipe the clear mucus from the underside of Rowan's nose.

"If this doesn't make you sneeze, then I don't know what will." He tosses the tissue into a trash bin in the corner of the room, then brings the feather up to tease Rowan's nose once again.

The light tickling against the outside of his nostrils doesn't seem to do much of anything anymore. Rowan is too lost in the throes of his allergies to notice the light stimulation. Daniel hums shortly and begins inserting the tip of the feather into Rowan's nose. He doesn't stop, slowly pushing until every inch of Rowan's nostril is filled with the tickly plumes of the feather, coated in layers of dust and pepper. Immediately, he uses his fingers to twist the feather in a circle, dragging the instrument against the sensitive inner flesh of Rowan's nose.

Rowan gasps wetly and his nose twitches uncontrollably. The entire appendage seems to be quivering with anticipation of the release. His tears fall in thicker streams and his chest heaves with the frantic, rapid breaths he manages to pull in. Despite all of this, he tilts his head back to allow Daniel better access to his nostrils. He's so desperate to sneeze, he'd let Daniel do anything to him if it meant he could finally get relief.

But still, nothing seems to be happening. He whimpers as the tickle builds and builds, but nothing comes of it. Daniel slowly begins pulling the feather out of Rowan's nostril, the agonizing stimulation causing him to whine in protest. Once the feather is almost completely withdrawn, Daniel shoves it back in as far as it'll go. He repeats the process, quicker now, until he's thrusting the feather in and out of Rowan's desperate, trembling nose. With a quick flick of his wrist, he withdraws it completely, then wastes no time in inserting it fully into Rowan's other nostril to do it all again.

To Rowan's dismay, and to Daniel's enthusiastic interest, Rowan still can't seem to sneeze, no matter how helplessly allergic he gets. Daniel pulls the feather free, watching as a string of mucus connects the tip of it to Rowan's red, twitching nose. With his free hand, he plucks another tissue free and uses it to break the string and pinch the mess away from Rowan's nose.

"Still nothing? This compound is more effective than I thought." Daniel drops the soaking wet feather into the trash bin along with the tissue. He pulls a few more fresh tissues free and guides them into Rowan's hand. "Here, you're going to need these. I have a backup plan."

Rowan's hands tremble as they weakly grip the tissues. He doesn't use them yet, too preoccupied with hitching around several false starts. Daniel watches him for a moment; takes in the sight of his nose, which is bright red, irritated, and wriggling with a mind of its own. Rowan looks like the picture of allergic misery.

After allowing himself to indulge for a moment, he turns to pick up an unlabeled container resembling a sinus spray. He steps closer to Rowan. "This should completely counteract the effects of the compound. You need to be ready, because the effects will be nearly instantaneous. Are you ready?"

Rowan gives a small nod and Daniel nods as well. He lifts the nozzle of the small container to Rowan's nostril and presses it inside. The cold plastic makes Rowan's nostril flare.

"Get your tissues ready. As soon as I spray this, you'll need them." Daniel waits for Rowan to lift his hands, still clutching the tissues, then sprays a mist of the liquid directly into Rowan's nostril. He quickly pulls it away and steps back to allow Rowan a bit of space.

Rowan's face scrunches up at the feeling of a foreign liquid in his nose, but that only lasts for a moment. His sinuses are instantly filled with the tickle that has been building up this entire time. He clumsily lifts the tissues to his face but he doesn't even get them there before he's exploding into a wet, desperate sneeze.

"Haa'tISHhuhh!! Ha-ahh-! 'tISShhUH!!" The force of the sneezes has him jerking forward into the soft tissues. A shaky whimper of relief bubbles out of him.

"Bless you," Daniel supplies, knowing full well that Rowan is nowhere near done.

"I-ihhHH!! Hiih'tISCHHuh!! Ha'TSCHHh'tISHH'TSCHHuhh!!" Rowan can't drag in a single productive breath. Every inhale sends him into another fit of wildly desperate sneezing. "Hih'tishHh'tiSHhh'tSSCHHH! HaahH'tisHHUUHH! Ih'tSHUH! Hih'tshUH! Haa-ahhHH-!! HahHH'TSHUUh!"

Daniel stands a comfortable few feet away from Rowan and watches him dissolve into a helpless, desperate sneezing fit. After a moment of just watching, he reaches to take a few more tissues. He steps forward and gently takes Rowan's hands, swapping out the wet, used tissues with the dry, clean ones. He guides Rowan's hand back to his face, then disposes of the soiled tissues into the waste bin.

"Bless you," Daniel says again, his voice soft as he watches Rowan's attempts to soothe himself.

Rowan stutters through an attempt to speak, ultimately interrupting himself once again. "ThahhH- hih! Thahh'ank y-yo-ouhhH'tISCHHH! Ihhtshh'tiSHhuh! S-Sorhhuu'tiSHhhUH!" He gives up on it and instead buries his lower face completely into the tissues and gives himself over to the reaction. "IhhH'TIShhuHH! Haa'tshUH! Hihh'TSHhh'TISHHhh'TISCHHhuuhh!"

"Wow. Bless you," Daniel muses, a smile tugging the corners of his lips up. "You're a mess without your antihistamines, aren't you?"

Rowan cracks his eyes open to look at Daniel. He tries to shoot him a glare, but all he succeeds in doing is looking water eyed and miserable. He can't keep them open for long, either, because he starts sneezing again.

"Okay, okay," Daniel relents. He hands Rowan another bunch of fresh tissues, swapping them out for the used ones again and discarding them in the bin. "This has been really valuable information. I almost want to do a longer test to see if I can run the compound through its course. Another time, though."

"And… h-hh… hopefully a… Hihh'tSCHhuhH! Proper warning next time," Rowan requests.

"I can arrange that." Daniel smiles at him again before turning to pack up the cart.

[snzluckys]

Saw this in a NON snz blog, so I decided to draw my version 🤭

A T/o/Z OtT fanart based in a fic were l/ink catch a cold a navy take him to m/alon to take care of him 💖

[snzagaba]

am I stupid for desperately needing S/tardew V/alley snzfics?

Is it just me?

[snzpkmntrainer]

Powerful sneezes!

Just came back home from work (actually 3 weeks ago) I was waiting to get a decent amount of sneezes before sharing 😂

[lemoncatissour]

Hoshi is not good at hiding 🫣

💖 The Family Dragon 💖

Characters and comic series, as well as art By LemonCatIsSour

Please do not repost to non sneeze blogs

[aller-geez]

Oxygen

Written & illustrated by: allergeez 🖤

Hey! Remember back in August how I teased a Svelex fic set for Elex’s birthday? NWELL, I FINALLY FINISHED IT 6 MONTHS LATER ✨

Just under 8k words, CW: Illness & Injury (fever, pneumonia, difficulty breathing, passing out) Medical Settings (hospital/ER scenes, oxygen use, discussions of health conditions), Mild Alcohol Use (social drinking, light references), Themes of Self-Neglect (pushing past physical limits, refusing to ask for help)

Though Oxygen explores themes of stubbornness, friendship, and vulnerability, at its heart, it’s a story about learning when to let go—and knowing when someone cares enough to catch you.

Summary: S7en has never been great at self-preservation, but for Elex’s birthday, he’s determined to pull off the perfect surprise. Weeks of planning, secret coordination, and late-night prep have all led to this—one flawless night where everything goes exactly as planned.— There’s just one problem. S7en is sick. Really sick. And he’s been hiding it.

With the weight of the day pressing down on him, the only thing keeping him going is sheer stubbornness and the desperate hope that he can hold out just a little longer. But as the night unfolds, his body has other plans, and no amount of willpower can fight the inevitable.

As reality comes crashing down, S7en is forced to confront a truth he’s spent his entire life ignoring—he’s not invincible. And sometimes, pretending to be okay only makes things worse.

Prologue:

S7en had never worked so hard on something in his life.

For weeks, he had been obsessively planning Elex’s birthday party—late nights spent hunched over sketches, paint drying on his fingers as he designed the perfect decorations, hours scouring online shops for the exact shade of green streamers that wouldn’t make Elex groan about “clashing aesthetics.” He’d snuck around behind his back to pull together the guest list, bribe people into secrecy, and track down the most obnoxiously over-the-top cake he could find. It had to be perfect.

Elex deserved perfect.

And, as always, Elex had no clue.

Which, honestly, wasn’t surprising. The man could smell a lie from a mile away, sniff out bullshit like a bloodhound, but when it came to anything about himself, he was painfully oblivious. S7en could have probably told him, straight-up, “Hey, I’m planning a surprise party for you,” and Elex still would have just grunted, shrugged, and gone back to chewing on whatever plastic thing he’d picked up that day.

The same way he had completely failed to notice that S7en was getting sicker by the hour.

It had started as a scratch in his throat, nothing major—just the kind of raw, dry feeling he chalked up to too many sleepless nights and the absolute joke that was his hydration levels. He ignored it, popped a cough drop, kept going. He had too much to do to slow down now.

But then it got worse.

The scratch deepened into a constant ache, turning into that burning, sandpaper sensation that made every swallow a chore. His voice had started rasping sometime around day three, but he played it off, clearing his throat and mumbling that it was just from talking too much.

Then came the congestion.

Thick. Unshakable. A slow-building pressure behind his nose and eyes that made his head feel too heavy, too tight. He kept sniffling between sentences, breath hitching every time he tried to take a full inhale, but he was damn good at keeping it subtle.

Elex never noticed.

When he felt a sneeze creeping up, he’d duck into another room, press the back of his wrist hard against his nose, and wait it out. If he got caught off guard, he’d twist away, stifling into his sleeve so violently it left him dizzy. It left his chest tight, his head pounding, but it was better than Elex hearing and asking questions.

There was too much to do.

If he let himself sneeze once, it would turn into five. Maybe ten. And if that happened, he’d never get through his never-ending to-do list.

So he fought it. Again and again.

S7en had become a professional at dodging suspicion. He had to be—Elex might have been oblivious about some things, but he wasn’t stupid. If S7en so much as sniffled too obviously, the badger would latch onto it like a feral dog with a bone.

So S7en adapted. He learned how to mask it, how to time it, how to slip away just before his body betrayed him.

But sometimes… it got close.

The first time was late—way too late.

S7en had been running on a handful of energy drinks and sheer force of will, hunched over his desk, hand-painting decorations that no one but him would care about. The apartment was silent, save for the soft glow of his desk lamp and the occasional sound of Elex shifting in his sleep.

Which was a problem.

Because that meant every single noise S7en made was way too obvious.

He had been trying—really trying—to keep himself together, but his nose was done playing nice. The burning deep in his sinuses was unbearable, and no matter how much he bit his lip or rubbed furiously at the underside of his nose, it wasn’t stopping.

The tickle teased mercilessly, rising, falling, rising again.

Don’t. Don’t. Not now.

His breath hitched.

He jerked forward, smothering the sound into his hoodie sleeve as hard as he could.

“Hhh’NGXT!—h'KXT’chh!"

He held still, heart hammering in his chest.

The silence stretched.

Then—

A sleepy mumble from the bed.

“...Why you sneezing like a bitch over there…?”

S7en froze.

Shit.

He hadn’t even realized Elex had woken up. The badger’s voice was thick with sleep, slurred and lazy, but there was just enough suspicion in it to make S7en’s stomach drop.

Think. Think.

“Fucking… dust?..,” he muttered quickly, sniffling once for effect. “The paper’s covered in it.”

A long pause.

Then—

A heavy sigh, followed by the sound of Elex flopping onto his other side.

“Go to bed, dumbass,” he mumbled.

S7en stayed still until he was sure Elex had drifted off again.

Then, finally, he slumped forward, burying his face in his arms.

Too close.

The second time was worse.

They were sitting on the couch, half-watching some dumb action movie, Elex’s feet propped up on the coffee table as he mindlessly chewed on the plastic cap of a water bottle. He was in a good mood, talking non-stop about how he "just had a feeling something cool was gonna happen" on his birthday.

Which would have been hilarious if S7en wasn’t actively trying not to sneeze on him.

His nose had been itching relentlessly for the last five minutes. That awful, creeping burn was rising up again, and no matter how much he rubbed at his nose discreetly, it wasn’t enough.

Bad timing. Really bad timing.

His breath hitched—barely enough to make a sound.

Too close.

He needed to get out of there.

Stretching his arms in an exaggerated yawn, he forced his muscles to stay loose and casual as he pushed himself off the couch.

“Gonna grab a drink,” he muttered, already heading toward the kitchen.

“Get me one,” Elex called after him, not even looking away from the screen.

S7en didn’t answer.

Because the second he was out of sight, he barely made it to the sink in time before a violent—

"Hh—! HHAHH—! HAHDT’tchhiew!! Hh—! AHHDT’tchhiiuhh!"

—ripped through him, bending him forward with the force of it.

His hands gripped the edge of the counter, breath shuddering as another chest-deep cough tore out of him immediately after. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to get it together before—

“You good in there?”

S7en nearly jumped out of his own damn skin.

Elex’s voice was casual, distracted, but S7en knew him too well.

The badger had noticed something.

Shit.

He barely had time to smother another cough into his sleeve before he forced his voice to sound normal.

“Yeah. Just—fucking—dropped something.”

A pause.

Then, mercifully, Elex just grunted, attention snapping back to the movie.

S7en exhaled slowly, pressing the heels of his hands against his temples.

Too close. Again.

By the end of the week, he knew.

This wasn’t just a cold.

The signs had been there for days, creeping up on him like a slow, inevitable landslide. At first, it had been subtle—a scratch in his throat, a little extra weight in his chest. But now? Now, every breath ached, every inhale felt like dragging air through soaked fabric.

His lungs weren’t just tight anymore. They were drowning.

And when he coughed—because, at this point, there was no fighting it anymore—it wasn’t some weak, dry little thing he could brush off. No, it was deep, raw, rattling, the kind of cough that came from somewhere low and dangerous, scraping the bottom of his lungs like a dull blade.

It hurt.

And Elex still didn’t notice.

Because S7en made sure of it.

He had perfected the art of hiding it.

Whenever Elex was around, S7en played it off like nothing was wrong. He timed his coughing fits so they happened when Elex was in the shower, when he was digging through the fridge, when he was too distracted ranting about something to notice the way S7en had to brace himself against the counter just to stay upright.

If a sneeze hit, he bit back against it with everything he had, muffling it into his hoodie sleeve until his head pounded. If he couldn’t stop it, he’d make sure to stifle it into near silence, no matter how much the pressure made his already aching sinuses throb.

His voice was going hoarse, his breathing was labored, but he pushed through, kept talking like nothing had changed.

When his hands started shaking, he simply curled his fingers tighter around whatever he was holding—a drink, his paintbrush, the edge of the counter—until they stopped trembling long enough to keep up the act.

His eyes were red-rimmed, glassy, but if Elex glanced at him for too long, he’d just mutter something about being exhausted and wave him off.

Everything needed to be done.

And he wasn’t about to let a little cold ruin it.

Even as it got harder to stand without swaying.
Even as his lungs tightened like a vice with every breath.
Even as his body screamed at him to just stop.

He pushed forward.

Forward. Forward. Forward.

August 10th:

The morning of Elex’s birthday should have been easy.

After all, S7en had spent weeks planning every last detail. The decorations were set up, the cake was waiting in the fridge, and their friends were in on the plan, all waiting for the big reveal later that night.

All he had to do was get through the day.

And yet, when Elex jolted awake that morning—cocky, buzzing with birthday energy, already texting half his contact list like he was about to throw himself the most legendary party of all time—S7en could barely sit up without his vision blurring at the edges.

The second he lifted his head, a fresh pulse of pain slammed through his skull, a migraine so sharp it felt like his brain was trying to escape through his eye sockets. He swallowed against the nausea, trying to ignore the way his throat burned, raw and swollen, while his chest tightened with every inhale.

Bad. Really bad.

But he didn’t have time for bad.

So, S7en forced a grin, let Elex’s nonsense birthday rambling wash over him, and powered through.

“S7en, I swear to God, my birthday instincts are going crazy today,” Elex announced, cracking open an energy drink before he was even fully sitting up.

S7en barely managed to hold back a pained wince at the sound of the can popping. Too loud.

“Oh yeah?” he croaked, then immediately regretted speaking. His voice was wrecked, rougher than usual, like he’d spent the entire night screaming into a pillow.

Not ideal.

But if Elex noticed, he didn’t say anything—too busy stretching with an exaggerated groan before flopping onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow. His mismatched eyes gleamed, that lazy smirk pulling at his lips.

“Yeah. It’s like—I dunno, a sixth sense,” Elex went on, taking a sip of his drink. “Like, I just know when something big’s about to happen.”

S7en hummed, noncommittal. “Birthday instincts,” he repeated flatly.

“Exactly.”

“Hate to break it to you, but you might need a refund, dude.”

Elex snorted, waving him off. “Nah, nah, it’s real. Watch—by the end of the day, something sick is gonna go down, and I’m gonna be totally right.”

S7en bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, because if Elex had even the slightest clue about the party, he would not be this calm. But the badger, for all his cocky bravado, was utterly, hilariously clueless.

Good. That meant S7en’s work wasn’t for nothing.

But as he pushed himself up, the room lurched sideways, and his stomach twisted violently.

Shit.

He froze, pressing his hands into the mattress to steady himself, willing the dizziness to pass. But his lungs ached when he took a breath, and his ribs felt like they were wrapped in tight, unrelenting bands.

Breathe. Breathe through it.

Elex, of course, was too busy hyping himself up to notice.

“Bet something sick happens before noon,” he said, checking his phone. “Maybe I’ll win some crazy giveaway. Or, like, get free food somewhere.”

S7en forced out a breathy laugh, ignoring the sharp, rattling sensation in his chest.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Something like that.”

Because at the rate he was going?

Something was gonna happen before noon.

Just not the kind of surprise Elex was expecting.

S7en just had to get through the morning.

Then the afternoon.

Then the party.

Simple.

Except nothing about this was simple when his entire body was actively trying to betray him.

He had barely been upright for two minutes before the pressure in his sinuses flared up again, an unbearable, burning tickle crawling its way deeper. His breath caught just once—a sharp, involuntary inhale—before he forced it down, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to sting.

Not now. Not in front of Elex.

Elex, still riding his birthday ego trip, had zero idea what was going on, stretching like he had all the time in the world. Completely unaware of the absolute war S7en was fighting just two feet away.

"Alright," Elex announced, cracking his neck. "I’m thinking pancakes."

S7en barely heard him. His focus was on not sneezing.

The burning sensation spiked, his nose twitching, his breath threatening to hitch again. He clenched his jaw, exhaling slowly through his mouth, willing the tickle to settle.

No luck.

It was coming, fast.

Shit. Move.

Before Elex could glance his way, S7en swung his legs over the bed and pushed himself up, heading straight for the bathroom. Too fast. His vision swam, dizziness crashing into him all at once, but he barely managed to keep himself upright, gripping the doorframe for balance.

He shoved the door shut behind him, barely able to hold back the gasping inhale before—

"Hh—! Hhh! HAHPT’tschiew!! HAH! AHHDT’shiiiiew!!"

Fuck.

He doubled over against the counter, pressing the heel of his hand against his nose, his breath still stuttering from the sheer force of it. The moment he tried to straighten, another thick, chest-deep cough forced its way up, scraping like sandpaper in his throat.

His lungs felt wrecked. His head was pounding.

And he had approximately five seconds before Elex came looking for him.

Swallowing hard, S7en quickly turned on the sink, splashing cold water onto his face, trying to erase the obvious flush creeping into his cheeks. A second later, he heard Elex’s footsteps outside the door.

“You dying in there?”

S7en cleared his throat, ignoring the sharp pain it sent through his ribs. Make it sound normal.

“Chill,” he called back, voice rough but controlled. “Didn’t know I had to schedule my pisses around your breakfast plans.”

Elex snorted. “I mean, you do. But I’ll allow it, since it’s my birthday.”

S7en exhaled slowly, gripping the edge of the sink.

Too close. Again.

By the time S7en forced himself back into the kitchen, Elex had already trashed his pancake idea in favor of raiding the fridge for anything edible. He stood with the door wide open, shoving a piece of cold pizza into his mouth like he wasn’t the absolute most unhinged person alive.

S7en could barely look at food without feeling his stomach twist unpleasantly.

"You good?" Elex asked around a mouthful, finally giving him a passing glance.

S7en shrugged, keeping his movements casual, despite the way his body screamed at him to sit the hell down.

"Tired," he muttered, heading for the cabinet where they kept their mugs. If he had something in his hands, it’d be easier to look normal.

Elex didn’t press, which was both a relief and kind of funny, considering if their situations were reversed, S7en would have had him in a chokehold demanding answers. But Elex just yawned, stretching again.

"Yeah, yeah," he said. "Big day. You should nap or something."

The irony almost made S7en laugh.

Yeah. Sure. Great idea. He’d get right on that.

As soon as he survived the next fourteen hours.

But as he reached for a mug, the telltale prickling started up again. His breath hitched before he could stop it.

Shit. No. Not here. Not now.

Keeping his back firmly to Elex, he pressed his wrist hard against his nose, willing it to stop. His shoulders tensed as the itch flared up, teasing mercilessly.

Hold it. Hold it. Hold it.

Elex, blissfully unaware, just kept rambling, his voice distant, drowned out by the relentless burning in S7en’s sinuses.

It was winning.

S7en had no choice.

With as much control as he could manage, he ducked his head into the crook of his arm, forcing the sneezes silent.

"Hh'NGXt! Ktchhh!—h’NNgch!"

The pressure was brutal, his skull throbbing with the effort of holding them back. His lungs seized painfully, a cough clawing its way up, but he swallowed it down, knuckles tightening around the counter.

He waited.

Nothing.

Elex hadn't noticed.

Slowly, carefully, S7en straightened, schooling his expression before turning back around.

Elex was still halfway through his pizza, scrolling through his phone with zero clue about the absolute disaster happening right in front of him.

S7en let out a shaky breath, grabbing his mug with slightly unsteady fingers.

He just had to get through the day.

That was the mantra he kept repeating in his head, over and over, like a scratched CD skipping on the same damn track. Just a few more hours. Then the party. Then the moment when Elex would finally see the absolute masterpiece S7en had spent weeks putting together. Then—maybe—he could breathe.

If his lungs still worked by then.

It was getting harder to ignore. Everything.

The aches had settled deep into his bones, like he was dragging concrete around his limbs. His head pounded relentlessly, his chest felt like it was wrapped in steel wire, and his breath was turning shallow, forced, unnatural.

And Elex?

Still didn’t notice.

Somehow.

It was actually impressive, in a way that was borderline offensive.

Because anyone with a working pair of eyes could tell that S7en was not okay.

His skin was pale, fever-glazed, dark shadows lingering beneath his eyes. His voice had gone from a little hoarse in the morning to full-blown wreckage, scraping and raw like he’d been swallowing glass shards for fun.

And yet.

Nothing.

Elex was still living in his own little birthday world, sending obnoxious texts to his friends, hyping up his own damn existence, and loudly debating whether he should get a new tattoo or a pet snake to mark the occasion.

S7en was dying in real time, and Elex was googling exotic pet names.

Ridiculous.

By the time they left the apartment, the sun was too bright, the air too sharp, and S7en was too damn tired.

He had planned to stay inside, get through some last-minute details, maybe even steal a moment to sit down and pretend his body wasn’t actively staging a rebellion.

But Elex, in all his unmatched, chaotic glory, had insisted on going out.

“It’s my birthday,” he had said, flashing a grin that should be illegal. “You’re legally required to follow me around and do dumb shit all day.”

S7en had just barely held back a groan.

The first stop was some hole-in-the-wall shop Elex swore had the best snacks on the planet. S7en, running on sheer force of will and the lingering effects of a third energy drink, followed him in, head pounding, lungs on fire.

He was so focused on staying upright that he didn’t notice the way his sinuses had been slowly tightening, congestion pressing like a vice behind his eyes.

Then, as he shifted his weight, something shifted with it.

A sudden, sharp readjustment deep in his sinuses sent a blinding tickle straight through his nose, pressure tipping over into something unstoppable.

Oh, fuck.

His breath hitched dangerously, his nostrils twitching, the overwhelming sensation building too fast for him to fight.

Not here. Not now.

He turned sharply on his heel, heading toward the corner of the store, hand clamped over his nose.

The moment he was out of sight, he braced against the shelf, burying his face into his sleeve as his body gave up.

“Hh—HhAH’DTschhh! Hh! HHhih—! HAHDT’tchhhiiew! Hhh! AHHDT’tsschueh!!!”

His ribs screamed in protest, his vision swimming from the sheer force of it. His breath hitched again, another wracking cough tearing out of him immediately after, leaving him shaking, dizzy, breathless.

Too much. Way too much.

He forced himself upright, swallowing against the rawness in his throat, fingers digging into the shelf for balance. He needed to move before—

“Sven?”

Shit.

He barely had time to school his face into something remotely normal before Elex appeared around the corner, holding a pack of sour candy and a soda, looking infuriatingly relaxed.

“You find something?” Elex asked, popping open the drink like nothing was wrong.

S7en cleared his throat, biting back the unbearable urge to cough again. “Nah. Just looking.”

Elex blinked at him, then tilted his head slightly.

For half a second, S7en thought—hoped, really—that maybe Elex was finally putting two and two together. That he’d look at him and actually see what was happening.

But then the badger just shrugged.

“Cool. Let’s hit the gas station. I wanna see if they have those weird energy drinks from Japan.”

And just like that, the moment was gone.

S7en swallowed back another cough, another wave of exhaustion, and nodded.

“Yeah,” he muttered, voice scraping at the sides. “Sure.”

And without much more, he followed Elex back out into the sun, lungs screaming, heart pounding, the warmth of the afternoon too sharp, too heavy against his feverish skin.

The heat pressed down on him like a weight, making the air feel thicker, harder to breathe, and for a moment, as they stepped onto the sidewalk, the world tilted dangerously beneath his feet. He forced himself forward, keeping his stride even, controlled, ignoring the way his vision blurred at the edges.

The party was just a few hours away.

He just had to last a little longer.

But his body? His body was done.

The fever that had been simmering beneath his skin all morning had finally boiled over, turning into a suffocating, all-encompassing heat that made the world feel distant and unreal. He felt like he was walking through a fog, slow and sluggish, barely tethered to his own movements.

His hoodie, usually something soft, comforting, familiar, now felt like a weight pressing down on his overheated body. The fabric clung to his skin like insulation, trapping the fever in, suffocating him from the inside out.

It was getting harder to think.

Harder to breathe.

Every inhale was tight, shallow, unsatisfying, as if the air itself had thickened, turning into something too dense to pull into his lungs. He knew he should have eaten something, but the mere thought of food made his stomach twist violently, nausea crawling up his throat.

But none of it mattered.

None of it could matter.

Because Elex was still completely oblivious.

So when the badger shoved his phone into his pocket and announced they were going to the arcade, S7en nodded.

When Elex cracked another joke about his “birthday instincts,” S7en forced out a laugh, even though his ribs ached from the effort.

And when a sneeze built out of nowhere, sharp and relentless, he bit down on the inside of his cheek hard enough to sting, forcing it back, forcing his breath to even out before it could betray him.

It was fine.

He could do this.

And then—

Elex threw an arm around his shoulders, dragging him closer, leaning some of his weight into him in that effortless, careless way he always did.

S7en felt his legs nearly give out beneath him.

It was only for a second. A brief, involuntary dip in his balance that he corrected just in time, locking his muscles in place before he could actually collapse.

Elex didn’t notice.

Because of course he didn’t.

He just kept talking, laughing, existing, completely unaware that the world around S7en had started to tilt dangerously again.

That the sounds of the arcade were beginning to blur into a low, distant hum.

That every inhale was tighter, shallower, harder to take in.

That S7en, for the first time all day, wasn’t sure if he could keep this up.

A single thought forced its way through the haze.

You’re not gonna make it to the party.

The arcade was a neon-lit blur, the pounding music and overlapping voices slamming into his skull like a hammer to glass. His fever had reached new, unbearable heights, making the room feel hot and cold all at once, the flashing lights too bright, the noise too much.

And still—he kept moving.

Elex was having the time of his life, completely in his element, button-mashing through some fighting game like it was a life-or-death battle. S7en barely processed what was happening, just stood there, hands shoved into his hoodie pocket, rocking slightly on his heels to keep himself upright.

The floor tilted beneath him again, nausea coiling tight in his stomach.

Just a little longer.

Just a little—

“Dude, you’re terrible at this,” Elex announced, nudging him toward the machine. “Come on, you gotta play at least once. Birthday rules.”

S7en knew if he sat down, he wasn’t getting back up.

But Elex was staring at him now, actually looking at him, and S7en had to move, had to do something, had to make sure Elex didn’t catch on.

So he shrugged, smirked through the absolute exhaustion dragging at his limbs, and picked up the controller.

The match was a disaster.

His hands were too shaky, his reflexes too slow, but somehow—somehow—he made it through without drawing too much attention.

By the time they left the arcade, the sun had begun to set, and the cool air should have felt refreshing. Instead, it only made his fever chills worse.

S7en barely made it through the door before he was shrugging off his hoodie, the fabric sticking to his overheated skin. His t-shirt underneath was just as bad, suffocating, but Elex was already grabbing beers from the fridge, completely unaware of the absolute train wreck standing behind him.

Elex tossed one over without looking.

“Happy birthday to me,” he announced, cracking his open. “Now drink, coward.”

S7en caught the can out of reflex, but the thought of alcohol sent an immediate wave of nausea rolling through him. He hesitated, fingers tightening around the cold metal, trying to psych himself up.

If he refused, Elex would notice.

So he lifted it, took a sip—

And nearly gagged.

The second the liquid hit his throat, his stomach flipped violently, his body rejecting it on instinct. He swallowed it down, forcing his expression to stay neutral, relaxed, normal, but the warmth rising in his throat told a different story.

Fuck.

The carbonation burned going down, only agitating his raw, sore throat further. He barely contained a cough, throat clenching as he forced himself to lower the can casually, like nothing was wrong.

Mercifully, Elex had already turned away, completely distracted by his phone buzzing on the counter.

“Rex?” he muttered, before picking up.

S7en exhaled silently, relief cutting through the fever haze.

“Yo, what’s up?” Elex answered, tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder as he grabbed his keys.

S7en barely processed the conversation, his focus slipping in and out as Elex and Rexar started talking about car problems, something about the transmission, something about a weird noise.

Then, finally—finally—Elex headed for the door.

“I’m gonna check my car while I talk him through this,” he said, already halfway outside. “Don’t drink all my beer while I’m gone.”

S7en barely managed a smirk, lifting the can in mock cheers as the door swung shut.

The second the lock clicked, his whole body gave up.

The first cough was immediate, tearing through his chest with enough force to make him double over against the counter. The sound crashed through the empty kitchen, harsh and unrestrained, his body finally allowed to react after an entire day of suppression.

Then another. And another.

It was unstoppable now, his body making up for all the times he’d held it back, a brutal mix of hacking, gasping coughs and desperate, shuddering sneezes.

"Hh—hhAHH’Tschh! Hhh—! HhhAHH—! HAHDT’tchhhiew!! Hhh! AHHDT’tschhhiu!!"

His body jerked forward with each one, raw, painful, messy—his breath barely catching before another slammed into him. His hand scrambled blindly for his phone, barely able to see through fever-glazed eyes as he pulled up his contact list.

The party. The guests. He needed to check the plans.

He hit the first name.

Freya.

Her face appeared on screen, and the second the call connected, she took one look at him and frowned.

"Geezus, S7en. You look like death.”

S7en sniffled hard, rubbing at his nose with his wrist, attempting to smirk, but it came out more like a grimace.

“Damn, angel, don’t hold back,” he rasped.

Freya narrowed her eyes, clearly unimpressed. "Are you seriously still running this party?"

"Obviously."

"You can barely hold your damn phone up."

S7en rolled his eyes, regretted it immediately when the movement made his head swim. "I’m good."

Freya looked like she wanted to reach through the screen and shake him, but before she could argue, another rapid-fire sneezing fit tore through him, leaving him breathless and hunched forward over the counter.

"Hhh! HAH—hhAHDT'shhiiew!! hHh—! HhHPTT’tchhiEW!! hh—! HAHHDT’tchhIEEW!!”

Freya just stared.

Then—flatly: “Uh-huh. Sure. You sound great.”

S7en groaned, sniffling thickly as he waved her off.

"Look, just—are we still good for eight? I don’t have time for a lecture.”

She sighed, clearly not thrilled, but nodded. "Yeah. Everything’s set."

"Good. See you then."

And with that, he ended the call before she could press him further.

Next.

Kriia picked up on the second ring.

And just like Freya, she took one look at him and immediately frowned.

"Yo. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Evening to you, too," he muttered, sniffling into his sleeve.

"You look like you lost a fight. With, like. A bus."

S7en snorted, regretted it instantly as another cough tore through his chest, sending a sharp, tearing pain through his ribs.

Kriia’s expression shifted, concern settling in. "Dude. Are you sure you should be doing this?"

S7en waved her off before she could start, ignoring the way his vision blurred at the edges.

"It’s Elex’s birthday. I’m not ruining it.”

Kriia exhaled slowly, like she was debating whether to fight him on this. But in the end, she just muttered, "Your funeral, man," before confirming the plans.

S7en ended the call and dropped his phone onto the counter, fingers digging into the surface as another wave of dizziness hit.

The door clicked open again.

Shit.

His body snapped upright on instinct, throat still burning, lungs still raw, but Elex was already stepping inside, phone tucked away, beer still in hand.

"Apparently Rex’s transmission’s fucked," he muttered, completely unaware of what had just happened.

S7en forced a half-smirk, voice barely above a whisper.

"Tough break."

Elex flopped onto the couch.

"Whatever. Commute’s gonna be shit, though."

S7en swallowed hard, ignoring the fire in his chest.

"Yeah," he murmured.

Everything was too hot, too loud, too sharp at the edges. His body was dragging, fever weighing him down like cement blocks strapped to his limbs, but the worst part was his head. It was pounding relentlessly, a deep, throbbing ache that had settled right behind his eyes, making his vision swim every time he moved too fast.

And yet—he still almost forgot the damn restaurant reservations.

It wasn’t until Elex, now two beers deep, kicked his feet up onto the coffee table and stretched like he had no plans to move for the rest of the night that it finally hit him.

Shit.

"Alright, get up," S7en said, standing way too fast. The floor tilted. He gritted his teeth, planted his feet, forced himself to stay upright. "We got dinner reservations."

Elex blinked at him, caught mid-yawn. "Wait—what?"

S7en sighed, rolling his eyes like his head wasn’t spinning in slow, miserable circles. "You really thought I wasn’t taking you out for dinner? What kind of boyfriend would I be?"

That earned him a grin, lazy and smug. "Damn. I really am the best."

S7en snorted. "Uh-huh. Now get your shoes on."

And just like that, the plan was back on track.

As long as S7en didn’t pass out before they got there.

The drive was a blur.

S7en shouldn’t have been driving. He knew that.

His vision swam every time he shifted lanes, his hands felt unsteady on the wheel, and every time he blinked, his fever-hazed brain took just a little too long to process what was in front of him.

But if he let Elex drive, that meant questions. That meant attention. That meant a risk he couldn’t afford to take.

So he forced his fingers to grip the wheel tighter, focused on the road like his life depended on it.

Which, honestly, it probably did.

By the time they pulled into the restaurant parking lot, his knuckles were white from how hard he’d been holding on.

Just a little longer.

Except—when they got inside, it all went to hell.

S7en barely processed what the hostess was saying at first, his fever-glazed brain lagging behind reality.

“…I’m really sorry about the mix-up, but unfortunately, we don’t have a reservation under that name.”

S7en blinked. "…What?"

The hostess winced. "It looks like there was an error in our system, and we’re completely booked for the night."

Elex frowned, looking at S7en. "Didn’t you book this, like, a week ago?"

"Yeah," S7en rasped, throat raw, jaw tightening. He turned back to the hostess, forcing himself to stay calm. "So… what’s the wait time?"

She gave an awkward smile.

"About two hours."

S7en nearly laughed out of sheer exhaustion.

Elex sighed dramatically, shaking his head. "Welp. Guess we’re going home, then."

And for the first time all day, luck was on S7en’s side.

Because that was exactly what he needed to happen.

He gave the hostess a half-hearted nod before turning back toward the door, shoulders tense, every muscle aching.

Fine. Home it was.

S7en still should not have been driving.

His head was swimming, the world tilting at the edges, but he was too stubborn, too deep into the lie to stop now.

Elex, meanwhile, was perfectly content, reclining in the passenger seat like he hadn’t a single care in the world. "Honestly, I wasn’t that hungry anyway," he mused. "Good call, though. The universe clearly wants me to have homemade pizza instead."

S7en made a noise that might have been agreement, though it came out more like a weak exhale.

His grip on the wheel was tight, too tight, but he didn’t trust himself to loosen his fingers without them shaking.

Then—a problem.

The congestion that had been building behind his eyes all day shifted suddenly, sending a sharp, burning tickle straight through his sinuses.

His breath hitched violently, the urge to sneeze crashing into him like a tidal wave.

No. Not now. Not while driving.

He swallowed hard, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth, clenching his jaw so tightly it hurt. His fingers flexed against the wheel, breath quivering, trying desperately to force it back down.

It wasn’t working.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

His vision blurred, breath stuttering, but just as his body jerked forward involuntarily, he lunged for the volume knob on the radio, cranking it up just in time.

"Hh’NGXT! K’tshhh!—h’NNgch!"

The pressure made his ears ring, his head throb twice as hard, but Elex didn’t even flinch.

"Okay, why the hell is the music so loud now?"

S7en sniffled subtly, shifting in his seat. "Needed to wake myself up."

Elex huffed a laugh. "Damn. Didn’t know dinner cancellation trauma hit you that hard."

S7en forced a smirk, even as his sinuses screamed in protest. "Devastating."

And then, thankfully, mercifully, they pulled into the apartment lot.

The second the car was in park, S7en let go of the wheel like it had burned him. His fingers were stiff, locked from how tightly he’d been gripping it the whole drive.

Elex stretched, groaning dramatically. "Man, what a weird-ass birthday. Hopefully, the universe has one more surprise left for me."

Yeah.

You have no idea.

S7en forced himself to stand, lungs protesting, vision blurring dangerously for just a moment.

Almost there.

He just had to get inside.

Just a few more steps.

Just a little—

His breath hitched again, and he clenched his jaw, swallowing it down.

Not yet.

Not until he was alone.

S7en barely made it through the door before chaos erupted.

“SURPRISE!”

The apartment exploded with noise—cheering, shouting, laughter—all blending into one deafening wall of sound.

Elex’s reaction was instantaneous.

His fists shot up, body twisting instinctively, already halfway through swinging on whoever had dared to startle him.

For a split second, S7en had a horrifying vision of Freya or Kriia getting decked in the face, but just as Elex’s arm tensed, realization hit.

His narrowed eyes scanned the room, taking in the decorations, the crowd of friends, the drinks already in waiting hands.

Then—he turned to S7en.

That stupid, crooked grin stretched across his face, all sharp teeth and amusement, his previous fight mode already forgotten.

“You little shit,” he muttered, clapping a heavy hand on S7en’s shoulder, shaking him a little. “You actually got me.”

S7en barely held back a grimace at the sudden contact, his body thrumming with exhaustion, but he forced himself to grin through it.

“Told you your birthday instincts were trash,” he rasped, barely audible over the noise.

Elex laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah—okay, you win.”

The moment should have felt like victory.

And in a way, it did.

S7en had done it. The party had come together exactly how he planned, every detail falling into place just as he had imagined.

He had made it.

But as the music turned up, as drinks started passing between hands, as people settled into the celebration, S7en realized—

He still had to survive the rest of the night...

By the time everyone had arrived, the apartment was a perfect mix of chaos and celebration.

Music blasted.
Drinks flowed.
Elex was in his element, soaking up the attention, grinning like an idiot as his friends hyped him up.

S7en stayed near the edges, tucked into the background, letting the night move around him.

Everything felt far away, like he was watching the party from the other side of a glass wall. The fever had dragged him into a dreamlike haze, every noise muffled, every movement just slightly out of sync.

Still, he could see Elex—laughing, teasing, play-fighting with Rexar over some inside joke about "Toad Biscuit" merch.

The night blurred around him—colors bleeding together, laughter twisting into an indistinct hum, the weight of the room pressing down too heavy, too hot, too much.

S7en had spent the entire day pushing forward, ignoring the way his body was crumbling beneath him.

This was the last thing.

Just one more step.

One more task.

Someone called for cake.

The words barely registered, muffled beneath the fever’s grip, but his body moved on instinct.

S7en stepped toward the table, striking a match with trembling fingers.

The tiny flicker of fire blurred before his eyes, swaying unnaturally, and it took him a second too long to realize—it wasn’t the flame that was moving.

It was him.

The floor lurched beneath him like the ground had been ripped out from under his feet.

His chest tightened—seized—refused to expand.

A sharp, deafening ringing filled his ears.

His vision tilted violently, everything twisting into a warped, spinning mess of distorted colors and movement.

Far away—too far away—he could hear Elex’s voice, lighthearted, distracted, still caught up in the conversation, still completely unaware.

S7en tried to step forward—to finish what he started, to keep going, to keep standing—

But his knees buckled.

His breath stuttered dangerously, shallow and weak, his body losing the battle he had forced it to fight all day.

And then—

Elex’s voice sharpened, cut through the fog.

Something in his tone shifted—not joking anymore, not distracted anymore.

Alarm.

Realization.

“Wait—Sven!?”

Elex saw it happening.

But he was too far.

He was on the other side of the room, still surrounded by people, still grinning one second ago, still completely oblivious to just how wrong things were.

Then he turned.

And his stomach dropped.

He saw it—the way S7en swayed violently, the way his fingers slipped, the way his breath hitched in a way that had nothing to do with laughter.

His body was giving out.

Too fast.

Too soon.

Elex moved instantly, shoving through the crowd, but he was too late.

S7en’s body tilted forward, his orange eyes rolling back slightly.

The match slipped from his fingers, flame snuffing out before it even hit the ground.

His legs crumpled.

And before Elex could reach him—before anyone could react—

S7en hit the floor.

S7en drifted somewhere between consciousness and nothingness, floating in the thick, fevered haze of half-awareness. His body felt heavy, his limbs like lead, his chest wrapped in tight, suffocating bands that wouldn’t let him breathe fully.

He could hear voices.

Familiar, but distant—like sound carried through waterlogged fabric, muffled and uneven.

Then, one voice cut through the haze, clear and sharp.

“His blood oxygen was at eighty-one percent when they brought him in.”

That was bad. Even he knew that was bad.

A sigh—low, exasperated, but not surprised.

Elex.

“Geezus fuck,” he muttered, voice strained with something tired, frustrated, guilty.

The other voice—a woman’s—continued speaking, firm but calm, the kind of voice used to dealing with stubborn, repeat offenders.

“He has pretty severe pneumonia," she said, matter-of-fact. "You’re lucky he passed out when he did. If he’d stayed upright much longer, he probably would’ve just stopped breathing entirely.”

S7en didn’t have to see Elex’s face to know exactly what expression he was making.

Jaw clenched.

Hand rubbing over his face.

That rare moment when Elex wasn’t just annoyed, but genuinely upset.

And not at anyone else.

At himself.

S7en could practically hear the weight settle in his voice when he muttered, “…I should’ve noticed.”

The woman—whose voice was familiar in a way that took too much effort to place—sighed through her nose, not unkind, but firm.

"Yeah," she agreed bluntly. "You should have."

A pause.

Then—paper rustling, the sound of something being shifted from one hand to another.

“These are his prescriptions,” she continued. “Antibiotics, steroids, inhalers—we’re trying these this time. Make sure he actually takes them.”

That voice.

The realization hit sluggishly.

ER nurse.

He knew her.

She had been there every time he’d landed himself in this exact same situation.

Enough times to know him by name.

God, that was embarrassing.

Elex sighed again, and S7en could hear the distinct crinkle of the paper bag as he took it from her.

His voice was quieter this time. Tired. Guilty.

“I got it,” he murmured.

Another pause.

Then—her voice softened just slightly.

“Just… be more observant next time, yeah?”

No sharpness now, just gentle warning.

“Could be worse, next time.”

No argument. No defensive retort.

Just the quiet sound of Elex nodding.

S7en wanted to laugh.

If only he had the breath for it.

After a moment, a long, heavy sigh broke through the silence.

Then—the soft creak of a chair being dragged across the tile.

S7en felt more than heard Elex drop into the seat next to his hospital bed, elbows resting on his knees, the weight of exhaustion settling into his frame.

Then came the sound of both hands dragging down his face, a quiet but telling frustration behind it.

S7en almost would’ve gotten away with pretending to still be asleep.

Almost.

Except—his damn ear twitched.

Elex caught it immediately.

"I know you’re awake, dumbass," he muttered, voice low and uncharacteristically gentle.

S7en hesitated.

Then, slowly, he cracked his eyes open, squinting against the harsh fluorescent light overhead. The world swam for a moment before settling, and when his vision finally focused, the first thing he saw was Elex watching him.

Worried. Tired. Like he’d just come back from a war he hadn’t even realized he was fighting.

S7en’s ears flattened instinctively in embarrassment, a quiet flicker of shame settling in his chest.

The room was small, sterile, impersonal—the same goddamn hospital he had spent far too much time in over the years.

And the weight of his failure hit him all at once.

This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go.

A shift in his nose made him suddenly aware of the cannula, delivering pure oxygen to his wasted lungs.

His fingers twitched, reaching up to pull it off, but Elex’s hand was there first—firm but gentle, gripping his forearm.

"Don’t," Elex said softly.

S7en stilled, swallowing hard, ears pinning further against his head.

A beat of silence.

Then, in the same quiet, unusually careful voice, Elex asked,

"Why didn’t you tell me?"

S7en hated how much that question hurt.

He couldn’t bring himself to look at Elex. Instead, he dropped his gaze to his lap, claws absently picking at the thin hospital blanket.

"I—" He stopped, voice raw, barely above a whisper. He swallowed, trying again.

"I didn’t want to be the reason your birthday sucked…"

Elex stiffened slightly.

S7en continued, ears still pressed flat, tail curling closer to himself.

"I worked so hard to make it perfect," he muttered, barely breathing the words. "And after everything, we’re still here. Another—" his voice wavered, thick with frustration, "another claustrophobic, shitty little hospital room."

Silence.

S7en braced himself for Elex to be pissed. For the usual snark, sarcasm, maybe even an exasperated rant.

But instead—

Elex sighed, slow and deep, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer than S7en had ever heard it.

"Dude. I don’t give a shit about some stupid party."

S7en blinked, glancing up at him hesitantly.

Elex ran a hand through his messy, dark green hair, shaking his head. "You really think I care about that more than you literally—collapsing in front of me?" His voice wavered slightly, jaw clenching before he forced it back down.

S7en didn't know what to say.

Elex exhaled sharply, leaning forward, forearms resting on his knees.

"I should’ve noticed." The words came out quiet, guilty. "I mean, fuck, you looked awful all day. I just—I was too caught up in my own bullshit to pay attention."

S7en shook his head weakly, ears twitching. "Not your fault."

"Not entirely," Elex agreed, mouth quirking slightly. Then, more serious, "But you’ve gotta stop doing this, man."

S7en swallowed, feeling suddenly very small.

"You don’t have to—I don’t know—carry everything yourself," Elex continued, voice softer now, tired but firm. "It’s okay to tap out sometimes. Party or not."

S7en hesitated.

Then—finally—he met Elex’s gaze.

And what he saw there wasn’t annoyance, or frustration, or the usual bullshit banter.

It was genuine concern.

That made something tighten in his chest in a way that had nothing to do with pneumonia.

The corner of Elex’s mouth twitched into something softer, and after a pause, he added,

"By the way, next time you try to fake being fine, maybe don’t fucking pass out in the middle of a party. Kinda ruins the illusion."

Despite himself, despite everything, S7en huffed a weak, breathless laugh.

"Noted."

Elex rolled his eyes, but there was no heat behind it.

And for the first time all day, S7en finally let himself relax.

The end 🖤

[thekinkyleopard]

Hold Still

A BlyFry Snz Fic

⚠️Content Warning⚠️

Force Holding, Snz Fet, Smut, WLW

Description: this fic is based off this prompt!

Author’s Notes: You have been feeeeddddd!!! I don’t CARE if you don’t want the lesbians /i/ want the lesbians 👹 I love them. Anyway, enjoy BlyFry torture. 🥰 @aller-geez owns Freya and did the cover art!

Freya was curled up in the pit of Blythe’s arm, snuggled close as they enjoyed the sound of a gentle rain from their open cottage bedroom window. “It’s so peaceful out here..” the angel sighs with neutrality as her fingers trace up and down her lover’s exposed torso.

“I agree, lover, there’s nothing quite like laying with you next to the sound of mother nature existing as she comes,” Blythe's voice was a low murmur, vibrating against Freya's cheek where she nuzzled in closer. The scent of petrichor hung heavy in the air, a comforting aroma that mingled with the delicate fragrance of Freya's skin. As the rain continued its soft patter against the window, the world outside seemed to fade away until it was just the two of them cocooned in their intimate sanctuary.

Freya's touch was light yet purposeful, her fingers dancing across Blythe's skin with a feather-light nudge that sent shivers down her spine. Every caress was like a promise, a silent vow of love and devotion that spoke louder than any words ever could. Blythe's breath caught in her throat, her heart swelling with an overwhelming sense of adoration for the angel in her arms.

In that moment, nothing else mattered but the sensation of Freya's embrace, the sound of the rain outside, and the unspoken bond that held them together like two perfect puzzle pieces completing the picture. They laid like this for a few moments before there were light sniffles that started from below. “Snddff…H’h..” Freya quickly shook her head, trying to cast away the irritating feeling that began to make itself known within the passages of her sinuses. “iihh..D-Darling….I th-think the wet pollen is…agitating me…” the fallen finally admitted, Blythe looked down at her girlfriend, concerned at first but her inner monster couldn’t help itself. She wrapped her hand along the underside of the Angel’s jaw and forced her gaze upward into her own.

“Do tell me, Angel,” she asks with a heavy seductive tone. Freya gulps loosely. Bly's eyes gleamed with a predatory hunger as she held the woman’s gaze captive, her hand exerting a firm yet gentle pressure on the angel's jaw. The subtle shift in her lover's demeanor did not go unnoticed by Freya, who could feel the heat rising in her cheeks at the intensity of Blythe's stare. “M-My…l-love…?” she questioned softly, barely above a whisper.

The sensation of the wet pollen irritating her sinuses had been momentarily forgotten, replaced by a different kind of ache that pulsed through her veins. Despite the discomfort beginning to build in her nose, there was an undeniable thrill that coursed through Freya at the dominance displayed by the succubi. It awakened a primal part of her being that yearned for submission, for surrendering control to the one who held her heart in their hands. The forbidden feeling.

With a soft whimper, Freya leaned into Blythe's touch, her breath hitching as she felt a wave of arousal wash over her. The rain outside seemed to echo the rhythm of her racing heart. She knew this situation all too well. “What is it my Angel? Do you need to….sneeze?” She asked curiously, but behind that curiosity was a sick sadist that needed to be quenched.

“K-Kinda…” the fallen mumbled with slight hesitance. As often as she was ready to please her insatiable partner due to her affliction…she wasn’t sure she was ready to submit to the game up the succubus’ sleeves.

Blythe's lips curled into a knowing smile at Freya's hesitant admission. The succubus could practically taste the tension that hung in the air, a heady mix of desire and uncertainty. She leaned in closer, her breath ghosting across Freya's sensitive skin as she whispered, "You know what you need to do, my Angel….Let go for me," Her voice was like silk, smooth and seductive, coaxing Freya to surrender to the inevitable urge building within her.

Freya's chest tightened as she felt the first tickle of a sneeze creeping up her sinuses, a sensation that both thrilled and terrified her. The conflicting emotions warred within her, but she couldn’t just let it out that easily. “h-Heh…” she started but then swallowed it back, hard like a gumball down one’s throat. The succubus raised a brow and quickly flipped their positions so that the angel was below her and she hovered over top.

“What is this hesitation? Shall I induce a punishment for disobedience, my love?” Freya blanched at the thought of Blythe's punishment, her mind conjuring up images of spankings and other torments. The succubi’s eyes narrowed in warning, and Freya could feel the heat of Blythe's body against hers. A wave of nervousness washed over her as she realized she had pushed her partner too far.

“You’re still holding them hostage from me hm? Okay…then I suppose there’s no other choice….hold still,” the woman quickly thrusts her lover’s hands up and attaches them to the handcuffs secured to their headboard already. The angel gasps gently her nose stinging and leaking with the need to release but she couldnt possibly fathom what the succubus had in store for her. The sensation of being restrained only intensified the anticipation that gripped Freya's heart. She could feel Bly’s eyes on her, studying her every move, every twitch of her body as she waited for the storm to unleash itself.

As the seconds ticked by, the pressure building in Freya's nose grew more and more unbearable. She could feel the squishiness of her swelling nostrils, the tickle-turned-itch that threatened to consume her entire face in a sudden burst of sneezes. The rain outside seemed to emphasize the echoing beat of her heart, and Freya felt as though her very soul was being exposed and offered up to Blythe's predatory gaze.

The succubus could see the struggle in Freya's yellow eyes, the tension that twisted her features into a mask of both desire and anxiety. And with a cruel, seductive click of her tongue, chuckled at her girlfriend. “You’re so adorable, chained up at my will,” she teased, the woman then quickly pulled a box out from under the bed with a swift movement. Retrieving the hitachi wand from inside. “You’re going to wish you would have just listened, my dove,” she shakes her head solemnly but her eyes glisten with sin.

The fallen's heart pounded in her chest as the succubus approached her with the Hitachi wand, its vibrations pulsating with anticipation. The scent of her arousal filled the air, mingling with the earthy musk of her sweat and the floral notes of the scented candles scattered around the room. The succubus trailed the wand over Freya's nose, sending a shiver down her spine as the gentle hum against her sensitive skin threatened to precipitate her into a sneeze.

Blythe's eyes held a wicked twinkle as she continued to torment her lover, the vibrating massager teasing Freya's nostrils and the inside of her quivering lips. The crisp sheets crinkled beneath them, the only sound in the room other than the storm outside that seemed to mimic the tempest brewing inside Freya's body. “Now now, don’t you dare, you made the commitment to hold them back, remember? So hold them back,” Bly demanded of her lover with a strict, authoritative tone, while Freya let out an exaggerated, tortured whimper.

“B-But…” she started, her breath catching in her throat, wrists tugging at their restraints and her legs spreading further apart to accommodate for her girlfriend sitting between them.

“Aht, Aht, hold them back,” Blythe mocked, her voice darkening like a storm cloud as she wielded the Hitachi wand with a deft touch. Freya's entire body tensed, her skin prickling with awareness as she felt the vibrations from the wand radiate through her, lingering on her nerve endings. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, a wild beat that matched the frenzied rhythm of the rain drops hitting the side of their home.

It was as if the elements themselves were conspiring against her, trapping her in a whirlwind of sensations that threatened to overwhelm her. The betrayed smell of her sweat mingled with the heady scent of her arousal that seemed to bloom like a rose beneath her, sweet and intoxicating. The succubus noticed and took a deep inhale of her surroundings. “Delightful…my sweet Angel’s scent is so intoxicating…” The air felt heavy, as if the very molecules around her had been saturated with desire and anticipation.

She clenched her fists on each side of her body, trying her best to keep the explosions she so desperately needed inside her body as her forehead started to sweat. Bly now tracing her free hand across the exposed thighs of her girlfriend who was only sitting in a thin night gown that had fallen behind her hips in this position. “Your skin is so beautiful..” the demon licked her lips as the tips of her fingers drew patterns up Freya’s inner thighs.

The angel moaned, unable to withdraw the desire building within her quim at the touch of her lover’s hand. It was proving too much, holding back her sneezing, and being touched so intimately. “B-Bly…” she tried to protest as the buzzing continued to echo inside her skull. Her nose felt like it was going to explode, every breath seeming to teeter on the edge of uncontrolled expulsion. She could feel the tightness in her head, the gears of her sinuses grating together in their effort to contain the pressure building inside her. Freya's sinuses strained against the vibrations, her nasal cavities expanding and contracting in response to the intense stimulation. The warmth of her lover's touch against her sensitive skin only added to the mix of lust, further fueling the fire within her. The storm outside seemed to act as a mere background to the frenzied game they played, as lightning bolts of pleasure and need struck her from within, threatening to tear her apart in their intensity.

A single tear escaped her blackened yellow eye, trailing down her cheek as she felt herself losing the battle to hold back her sneeze. Her body shuddered involuntarily, her muscles clenching and unclenching in a futile attempt to delay the inevitable moment of release. The scent of her arousal became more pronounced, mingling with the musk of her sweat and Blythe’s own prominent pheromones. “I must taste you…” the Succubus whispered hungrily keeping her arm in position but sliding down the fallen’s body, she used her free hand to pull Freya’s panties to the side to expose her wet folds, sliding a wicked forked tongue against them. The angel wanted to throw her head back and release everything she’d worked hard to hold back, but she didnt. She whimpered, low and long as the sensation of her girlfriend’s lips closed around her throbbing clit.

It was two fold the trouble, the wet, messy mouth now ravishing her sacred treasure, and the wand electrifying the entirety of her brain through her nostrils. She couldn’t form a single thought. The Hitachi wand continued to vibrate against Freya's nose, its hum a constant reminder of the battle she was waging against the sneezes that threatened to escape. She could feel the pressure building in her sinuses, the walls of her nasal cavities were red and swollen, as if they were being stretched to their limits. Her nostrils flared with each inhale, and small droplets of sweat glistened on her skin as she fought to contain herself. Every breath she took felt like a challenge, a fight against the inevitable release that awaited her.

Blythe cooed and hummed against the sensitive throbbing bud, allowing her tongue to massage the underside before teasing her aching hole. “S-Shoot…” Freya ‘cursed’ as the feeling of release was just hiding around the corner.”P-Please…Bly-Blythe…”she pleaded. “I’ll…b-be…go-good…” she stuttered and swallowed trying to keep her promise and hold fast against the vibrating assaults. Her breathing had become short and sharp, her heart pounding furiously against her fingertips as she gripped the bed sheets tightly. Her eyes were wide with lust, her skin flushed with arousal and sin.

As Blythe continued her assault on Freya's swollen bud, her forked tongue dancing around it with expert precision, Freya's resolve began to waver. The pleasure built like a tidal wave, threatening to crash down upon her and obliterate her fragile control. She could feel the storm brewing within her, the electricity of ecstasy striking her from within, igniting every nerve ending in her body. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, her heart pounding in her chest like a war drum. Her scent thickened, filling the air with the heady aroma of raw, unbridled passion.

The Hitachi wand continued its relentless attack on her nose, driving her closer and closer to the edge with every pulse of electric vibration. Her sinuses strained against the intense sensations that plagued her, both from her head to her delicate parts, she was on the verge of insanity. “I’m gonna….Blythe..I’m gonna…” prepared to release, her orgasm built inside of her groin with a persistence that was now unavoidable. Sensing her girlfriend’s approaching release, the succubus pulled the wand away from Freya’s leaking, swollen and reddened face to force a double sensation.

“OH MY GOD…” the angel threw her head back as her orgasm suddenly started to fold her over with Blythe’s tongue still actively working against her but at the same moment it threw her off one edge, the release of the vibrating wand against her face came free and she found herself thrown over a different edge at the same time. “H’IhhSHHHHiew!! essh’IEW!” she finally sneezed, a cloud of spittle falling over cast the both of them, her body convulsing and twitching under the force of her orgasm, but this didn’t stop the succubus, she wanted more, she would drain every last sinful drop off the ethereal.

“B-Ly…iit’SSHHIEW! eh’TnSHiEW!” the fallen throws her head against the headboard, her hands pulling and tugging at the restraints above her, desperate to touch her lover but denied the access. Freya’s sneezes were like bombs, shaking the very walls of the room and sending a shower of droplets spraying across the intimate scene. Blythe, undeterred by the sudden exhalation of her lover's nasal passages, continued to lavish attention on Freya's sensitive regions, her forked tongue swirling and flicking against the angel's needy clit. Every sneeze felt like a blow to Freya's arousal, yet with each release, she found herself growing more and more flushed and overwhelmed with passion.

The Hitachi wand, now abandoned on the bed, hummed softly in the quiet moments between Freya’s sneezes. Its absence was a cruel reminder of the intensity of the sensation it had unleashed, and the angel knew that it would not be long before the agony and ecstasy of her orgasm returned. Blythe's tongue moved to wrap around her throbbing bud, sucking, teasing and while Freya fought to swallow the attack, it only intensified against her pleasure. “EhH’tshiew!” she collapsed with defeat after she sprayed another plume of wet mess. Blythe wanted to speak, she wanted to interject with something spicy, and quick, but her hunger. It drove her as she devoured her lover’s liquids. She knew there was more. Bringing up her hand she inserted her index and middle fingers, curling and twisting inside her twitching and shuddering lover. “h’Heh..iiKKSCH!!” throwing caution and followed by a high pitched moan as her body rolled into Bly’s motions.

The sight of Blythe's fingers buried deep within her was too much for the innocent to bear. Her body convulsed with each thrust, her heart pounding against her ribcage like a wild beast trapped in a cage. The storm within her raged on, the lightning bolts of pleasure and need striking her from within, tearing her apart in their intensity. She couldn't hold back any longer. “I’m gonna...I’m gonna...” she gasped, her voice cut off and swallowed by the burning static that consumed the passages of her nostrils. Blythe now fully thrusting her hand with a speed and intensity that caused the fallen’s eyes to roll back. “Aa-AH Hi’iHHSHHHhiew!” another convulsive sneeze rattled the room, spraying saliva and droplets of arousal in a chaotic arc across the space around them. Blythe released Freya's clit with a satisfied smirk, her tongue now flavored with the sweet nectar of her lover's arousal. “An absolute dish,” She grabbed Freya's ankles, pulling them apart and exposing the angel's dripping core to the cool air. The sudden constriction of the clitoral hood sent another jolt of pleasure coursing through Freya's body, the intensity of which was matched only by the explosive sneeze that followed.

“Eshh’iiiiewww!!” Freya cried out, her back arching off the bed as she convulsed with the force of the sneeze. Blythe took advantage of the momentary breather, leaning in to lick and taste the droplets that lingered on the angel’s lips.

“Good girl,” she whispered breathlessly, herself tired out from the overconsumption. Blythe lowered her head to Freya's chest, feeling the rapid pounding of her heart, the sweat dampening the fine fabric of her dress. The room was now sweltering, heavy with the scent of sex and the faint, earthy tang of the air that had shaken them both to the core. Her fingers traced gentle circles on Freya's skin, seeking to soothe the fiery tension that still lingered between them while the ethereal caught her breath.

As Freya's breathing began to slow, Blythe couldn't help but admire the exquisite beauty of her lover's face flushed and glistening, her eyes half-lidded with pleasure. It was a sight that made her own heart race and her throat dry with longing.

The coolness of the room against the heat of their bodies was a welcome relief, but it also served as a reminder of the urgency to solve a problem. Lazily, the succubus got out of bed and closed the window, looking back at her flushed and spent partner she smiled, sweetly, the hungry demon inside her satiated for now. “Better, my love?” Freya blinked her tear filled eyes allowing them to clear before turning her head to inhale deeply, feeling a sense of calm and clarity now that the window was closed.

“Much,” she breathed, her voice still slightly hoarse from the exertion. Freya's eyes fluttered shut as she surrendered to the afterglow, her body still humming with pleasure. Blythe, ever attentive, crawled back onto the bed to lie beside her, wrapping her arms around Freya's waist.

She nuzzled her nose into the crook of her lover’s neck, inhaling the intoxicating scent of their lovemaking, the mix of their arousal and the lingering traces of musk from the outdoors that had started to dissipate. The room was now filling up with the scent of their passion and the warmth of their bodies, a testament to the depth of their desire.

Blythe traced her fingers along Freya's collarbone, her touch soft and gentle, like the caress of a summer breeze. The angel hummed delightfully, leaning closer into her sadistic lover. “You’re so naughty…” Freya giggled, to which she was met by a dismissive scoff.

“Me? Dont play coy, darling, you’re just as filthy as I,” they giggled together as they spent the rest of the day rolling in between sessions of passion and contentment.

The End

Author’s Notes: another short one for you guys to consume while I try to get my shit together 🫡 I love BlyFry so much idc

[silentsneezes]

since the brainrot is continuing, here’s a 1.6k sick v/iktor fic !

cw for talking about disability/chronic illness and a brief mention of dizziness

A few fits from Viktor isn’t uncommon, especially in the spring and fall, so Jayce dismisses the first few series of stifles from his partner. He blesses Viktor, as always, but doesn’t give it a second thought. That is, until Viktor has a particularly long fit, nearing 10 rapidly stifled sneezes without a single breath drawn.

“Bless you, mi amor. Is something setting you off?” He inquires, looking over from his desk to see Viktor’s shoulders shudder with another series of stifles, silent this time. If he hadn’t been looking, he wouldn’t have noticed, but the bobbing of his partner’s head and the shaking of his frame are telltale signs, “Bless you again.”

Viktor frowns at having been noticed, muttering a frustrated, “thank you,” without looking up from his work.

“You know, you don’t have to stifle when it’s just us,” he prompts, expecting to receive the same response he always does: either a dismissive wave of the hand, a glare, or– his least favorite– no response at all. Viktor decides on the latter, letting Jayce’s statement hang in the air unacknowledged.

“I don’t mind,” Jayce continues, “it’s…” he pauses, searching for the right word.

“Incessant.” Viktor substitutes, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“I was going to say endearing.” Jayce shrugs as he walks over to Viktor’s workspace, placing a hand on his shoulder. He can’t help but feel a pang of worry as he notices the heat radiating from his partner, “you should take a break.”

“Science does not “take breaks”. Neither does the hexcore,” Viktor rebuts, his accent thick with a congested drawl.

Jayce bites his tongue, holding back from quiping “neither does your nose.” Taunting Viktor would do no good. Instead he gives Viktor’s shoulder a little rub, his thumb traveling over his shoulder blade towards his neck.

“Maybe the hexcore doesn’t,” Jayce agrees, “But you do. You’re human, Viktor, it’s natural to get sick.” He reasons, his voice soft.

“You know it’s different,” he replies bluntly, not bothering to deny his illness.

Viktor’s words hang in the air, the insinuation obvious; Viktor may not get sick super often, but when he does, it tends to linger for weeks, exhausting his body to the point of dysfunction. Having a plethora of chronic illnesses does not mix well with any sort of cold or flu, as proven by Viktor’s record breaking fevers.

“I know,” Jayce murmurs as he continues to rub Viktor’s shoulder, “but that’s all the more reason to rest.”

Viktor closes his notebook, silently admitting defeat. He looks at Jayce with tired eyes, leaning into his partner’s warm touch.

“Let’s go to bed,” Jayce prompts, stepping closer to Viktor, “you need to sleep.”

Viktor can’t help but let out a tired breath as Jayce steps closer, leaning back as if he’s magnetically attracted to the other man. As much as he likes to pretend he doesn’t like physical affection, he’s always indulgent in Jayce’s touch.

Jayce places both hands on Viktor’s shoulders, stepping closer again, their bodies almost pressed against each other as he stands behind the sick man.

Viktor swallows, nodding. He fumbles for his crutch, his hands tightening around its handle as he forces himself into a standing position. Much to his annoyance, his vision clouds with black splotches for a moment, as it always does when he’s feverish. After a few seconds, he manages to shake off the dizziness, turning to face Jayce. His movements are slowed as the fever exhausts his body, only furthering his sour mood.

“Okay,” He agrees, meeting Jayce’s eyes with a tired, hazy gaze.

Jayce smiles, moving to give Viktor’s hand an affectionate squeeze, “good. I’ll grab my things.”

In the time that it takes for Jayce to gather his notebook and a blueprint he’s currently designing – only a few minutes, if that– Viktor has already occupied himself with a new task. Once again, he sits hunched over his desk, his posture downright terrible as he jots down a few equations in his notebook.

“V, you ready?” Jayce prompts, making his way back over to his partner and peeking over his shoulder.

Ignoring Jayce, Viktor starts, “I realized if we-” his breath breaks his thought with a sudden, quiet “hh-” before his shoulders shudder, his head bobbing down with a poorly stifled fit, “hh’hNgSxch! hh’NZxchh’h-hhNSXCh!”

“Bless you, bless you, bless you,” Jayce murmurs, resting a hand on Viktor’s shoulder, “come on genius, you can work on this when you’re feeling better.”

“Just let me-,” Viktor starts, evidently intent on finishing whatever project it is he’s started, but Jayce cuts him off with a swift, “No. We’re going home.”

Viktor looks up, a little surprised at Jayce’s firm tone. His lips purse in a thin line, weighing the pros and cons of resisting Jayce’s caretaking. Whether it’s his fever or exhaustion that breaks through his stubborn determination, Jayce doesn’t know. He’s just grateful to receive a quietly mumbled, “fine.”

“Good,” Jayce murmurs with a little smile, leaning over to kiss the top of Viktor’s head. He waits patiently for Viktor to stand and get his bookbag, placing a hand on Viktor’s waist as they make their way to the lab’s exit.

Viktor pauses as they reach the door, his eyebrows knitting together as the buzzing in his sinuses returns. Raising a hand to his face, he presses two fingers to the base of his nose just in time to stifle, “h’NGSxcH-nKZXxT! hh’NGSXt’eh! nNGxxXt! hh… hhNSXchh!”

“Bless you,” Jayce murmurs for what feels like the hundredth time that day, watching as Viktor fishes in his pocket for a handkerchief and wipes at his twitching nose.

The walk back to Jayce’s room in the academy is rather uneventful. It’s slow moving, more so than usual, and Jayce mentally scolds himself for not realizing Viktor was sick sooner. Typically he would, but he’s been so enveloped in his work today, it was easy to dismiss the frequent fits.

Of course, it’s likely that Viktor would’ve insisted on working even if Jayce had realized sooner, but Jayce still takes the blame. ‘He’s my partner. I should’ve known,’ he admonishes as a mental debate pans out, one side reasoning that Viktor is often reluctant to accept aid, and the other insisting that it’s Jayce’s responsibility to prove to Vitkor that he deserves care.

Even months into their relationship, Jayce struggles with proving to Viktor that his affection is out of love rather than pity. Admittedly, he’s made a few blunders in learning how to navigate helping Viktor with accessibility without diminishing his autonomy; as eager as he is to help his partner, he still finds himself unlearning certain behaviors he has from growing up able-bodied in Piltover.

His mental dispute is interrupted by a quiet “hh-” from Viktor, immediately earning Jayce’s attention. He looks over, watching as Viktor stands in place, his handkerchief held loosely in front of his nose as his breath hitches. Jayce feels his heart swell at the sight; Viktor looks downright miserable, his nostrils flaring in irritation at the itch.

“hh’ng’KZXchh! hh’TKsCHhew-kGNX’SHh!” The sneezes tumble out one after the other, and Viktor only manages to half stifle the first of the explusions, muffling the second two into his handkerchief.

“Salud,” Jayce murmurs as his hand finds its way to Vitkor’s waist again, giving it a gentle squeeze, “we’re almost home.”

Once again, Viktor doesn’t reply, instead wincing as he swallows. ‘Damnit, he’s worse off than I thought’ Jayce thinks, but he puts his mental chastising on hold, prioritizing the task at hand: getting Viktor home.

It doesn’t take much longer for the couple to arrive at Jayce’s place, and he’s quick to unlock the door, allowing Viktor to step inside. Viktor makes a beeline for the bedroom, not bothering to hide his exhaustion– and frankly, not able to hide his exhaustion with his worsening fever.

Jayce follows his partner, ready to make sure he’s as comfortable as he can be. He gives Viktor space as he climbs into bed, knowing not to offer help unless he’s prompted. Still, it pains him to watch Viktor position himself stiffly on the edge of the mattress, using both hands to leverage his bad leg up before shifting to lay back against the headboard.

Jayce busies himself with little tasks, appeasing his million mile per hour mind by getting tissues, a thermometer, cough drops, and all the necessities in battling a cold. He places the items on the nightstand, leaning over to cup a gentle hand over Viktor’s forehead, “Mi dios,” he mutters, feeling a pang of concern at Viktor’s temperature.

Viktor just allows the touch, his eyes drooping shut as he tries to ignore the swelling pain behind his temples. Now that he’s laying in bed, his work left behind in the lab, he allows himself to feel the extent of his sickness. It’s safe to say, the discomfort isn’t pleasant.

“Can I get you anything? Tea? A cold washcloth? A-,” Jayce starts listing, eager to relieve whatever pain he can.

“No,” Viktor answers simply, hooking a slim hand around Jayce’s waist and giving him a weak tug. Jayce submits without hesitation, climbing into bed beside his partner and making sure not to jostle him. Viktor melts against Jayce’s side, his head resting between the crook of Jayce’s elbow and his chest.

“I’ve got you,”Jayce murmurs lovingly, a hand coming up to sift through Jayce’s hair, “Just rest.”

Raspy and barely audible, Viktor mumbles, “What do you think I’m doing?”

Jayce can’t help but smile, chuckling quietly at his partner's sass. Even sick, Viktor is quick to give Jayce attitude, “point taken,” he concedes.

i’m working on the asks i’ve received, as well as a second part to the allergic j/ayce fic, but i figured this fic has sat in my snzdoc for long enough

as always, any comments or tags are much appreciated !! thank you to anyone who read the fic, i hope you enjoyed

[annie-sniffles]

things that turn me on as a girl with a sneeze kink

(are these thoughts/head canons?)

im bi so for me this can apply to either a boy or a girl, i just had a boy in mind when doing this fsr.

"bless you sweet girl/baby/princess/love/sweetheart"

"you want a tissue?" (same nicknames)

"your nose is all red, baby."

rubbing your back

holding the back of your head to their chest

wiping your nose with their thumb

forehead kisses when you sniffle

being spooned while you sneeze in your sweatshirt in bed

"you sick, princess?"

complaining to them about how much it tickles and they rub your nose for you

tickling you because they like the sound of your sneeze

tucking your hair behind your ear when you sneeze

hair strokes while you have a runny nose

"let it out, sweetie."

him telling you to not sneeze until he says and hes just like holding you while you whimper and squirm.

"good girl", after you sneeze/blow your nose.

or "good girl," for a loud whimper when holding it in for him

whispering bless you over and over in your hairline

the thumb thing on your shoulder while you use a tissue

"you okay, sweet girl?"

UGHHHH 😭😭

i had a reblog moment with @lavsnz over the first one.

[whumpusgumpus]

Shout out to men w dainty sneezes‼️ but yeah Alucard def would have a dainty small snz that he’d be overly polite about excusing. Definitely a soft velvety “pardon me” before each sneeze, after if it catches him off guard. (Ok Ik it’s unlikely that he’d sneeze but LEAVE ME ALOEEJENEK Maybe he sniffed up some garlic lmao)