Hey wear masks and shit, Covid fucking sucks

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐝𝐨 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤

𝐓𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐝𝐨𝐧 x flu! reader

in his mind, there was a hint of selfish delight at the prospect of you staying home from school and spending the entire day with him.

but then he realized that you’re suffering, which it made him feel extremely guilty.

so he makes it his personal mission to make you feel better. (succeeded)

since he’s a ghost, he’s immune to your illness.

he brings you extra blankets and tissues, and anything you ask for. he’ll go get it, zero complaints.

“can i get you water? food? medicine?” 

“can i have a popsicle?”

“are you sure? you really shouldn't..."

“please?”

“…what flavour do you want?”

you play cards, listening to nirvana or just talk about random stuff.

he steals your cough drops when he thinks you’re not watching. he’s dead, but still has a sweet tooth.

lacing your fingers together while spooning. (the first time he assumes the position of the big spoon!)

𝐊𝐢𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫 x common cold! reader

takes the day off to look after you.

"kit, it's just a common cold, you really don't have to-"

“in sickness and in health, mrs walka. don’t you remember?” 

he brings you extra blankets and wool socks if you’re feeling chilly.

a damp cloth for your forehead if you’re burning up.

he protects your peace when you’re sleeping.

“no, don't wake mommy! she’s sleepy and needs some rest. how 'bout you and thomas go make her a get-well card?”

does the household chores while you rest. ( laundry, cooking, helping the kids with their homework)

checks on your temperature every hour.

“my grandma swears by this chicken noodle soup recipe, nothing some soup and a cuddle can’t fix.”

this man is an absolute angel sent from heaven.

𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 x common cold! reader

“you have a fever, sweetness. of course i'm not going anywhere.”

would be grossed-out the pile of used tissues on your bedside table. but he’s too polite to mention it.

he’ll call someone to clean it up, though.

brings your hand to his lips, murmuring sweet words. suddenly you’re not sure if the heat on your cheeks is from the fever or because of james.

pampers you like a literal goddess.

personally supervises the kitchen staff to prepare your favorite dishes, then has them delivered to you on a gleaming silver tray.

fresh bouquets of flowers.

“you need to drink the tonic, love. how else will your cold go away?”

“aw, darling you look miserable... need me to kill someone for your entertainment?”

he’ll tell you stories about his past travels; exotic places he’d visited. (or his most prided murders, if you’re into that sort of thing too)

𝐊𝐚𝐢 𝐀𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 x stomach flu! reader

he leans against the bathroom door, face devoid of any emotion, while you hunch over the toilet, vomiting.

eventually, he lets out a sigh and squats down beside you, gently pulling back your hair away as you continue to retch into the toilet.

“you look like absolute crap.”

after you’re done, kai stands up. without warning, he scoops you up, bridal style.

“puke on me, and i’ll drop you.”

he carries you downstairs to the basement and dumps you rather unceremoniously onto the couch. hands you a bucket.

then he ignores you. acts like he doesn’t give a flying fuck about your well-being.

sits on the floor working on his laptop, occasionally sneaking glances at your direction.

“you can watch tv if you want. just not american housewife.”

“i’m going to the kitchen. need anything?”

mansplains to you about the importance of health and self-preservation.

“why can’t you take better care of yourself, huh?” he grumbles as he tossed you a throw blanket.

“this one’s gonna cost you. big time.” he groused as he set a glass of water and two tylenol on the coffee table.

𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐲 ! 𝐊𝐲𝐥𝐞 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 x common cold! reader

tells his frat brothers to kindly leave the two of you alone.

he dots on you. babies you, even.

“come on. take the medicine, i’ll get you some ice cream after you’ve taken it”

keeps a steady supply of throat lozenges and tissues within your reach, anticipating your needs before you even ask.

draws a warm bath for you when he sees you shivering.

lends you his own clothes to wear.

you looked so adorable in his hoodie and sweatpants, he stared at you.

you watch a movie on his laptop, snuggled against each other in bed.

soothing back rubs!

“you're going to get sick if you keep coddling me like this, ky.”

“you won’t get me sick. well. you might, but i don’t mind.” 

-—————————⋆｡‧˚ʚɞ˚‧｡⋆—————————-

✧. a/n ─ my apologies for not including jimmy and austin.. will update when i finish watching! pls excuse the crappy writing, english is not my first language.

✧. part 2: the evans when they are sick

©️@brknlamb

Fear of Tomorrow

Austin Butler x Chronically ill! Reader

Summary: When Austin is gone for interviews reader has a hard time at home, Austin takes care of her when he returns home.

Warnings: Mentions of depression, needles and chronic pain. It is kind of a sad/fluffy fic:)

Word count: 1,003

I loosely based this fic on me and how I’d like to be treated. As a young person with chronic illnesses and pain you don’t get a lot of sympathy from others. I’ve been dealing with CRPS, RLS, Raynauds and arthritis since I was a kid and am currently waiting on more diagnosis’s. For anyone in the chronic illness community or anyone that needs to chat, my messages are open, I’m here for y’all. I love y’all<3

I was laying in bed, the blackout curtains closed and the clock read noon. Austin was currently in New York doing interviews so I was alone and my depression was hitting me harder than ever. I’d gone to the doctor alone yesterday and my heart sank when she told me it was time for more tests, dealing with pain like this in my twenties wasn’t normal and there were probably more illnesses to add to my already mile long list. The arthritis in my hands had gotten worse recently and as a full time writer, that wasn’t good. My publisher had been calling me, asking for book signings, a new book idea, anything at this point. I ignored her calls and just laid in bed staring at the wall and pile of tissues in front of me.

Austin was coming home today and the last thing I wanted him to see was me in this state, he was on such an excited high from all of his jobs and the attention but I couldn’t help it, every time I tried to move my back screamed at me and I was too weak. Most likely from dehydration and the fact that I’ve been living on snack foods. I wanted nothing more than to be that dumb carefree college kid again where my biggest worry was if my slutty halloween costume would catch my crushes eye. Now my worries were when would my next hospital stay be? If Austin leaves me how will I support myself?

I heard the door open and heavy boots walk into the house. “Honey, I’m home!” He yelled. That had become his homecoming tradition. His footsteps were lighter once he took his boots off and our bedroom door was pushed open. I squinted my eyes at the bright light streaming in the room. “Hey hun. What’s going on?” He asked, sitting on the bed. I took a deep breath to try to compose myself but failed miserably as I broke down into sobs. “I’m in pain and probably dehydrated and I’ve been living on peanut butter crackers for the past couple days. Katherine keeps calling to see if I want to do book signings or if I’m writing anything but I can’t even write!” I cried. “I went to the doctor yesterday and she said I need more tests because something else is going on. I’m so scared.” I cried.

“Baby, why didn’t you call to tell me about all of this?” He asked. “I didn’t want to bother you and weigh you down.” I said. “You never bother me, I tell you all the things going on with me and you do the same with me.” He said. “I’m so sorry.” I cried. “No, baby. Don’t apologize. Can I hold you?” He asked. “Y-yeah. Not my hands.” I sniffled. He leaned against the headboard and pulled me onto his chest. I winced at the ache in my back. “Have you drank anything?” He asked. “I had a glass of water over the past couple days.” I said. “Are you hungry?” He asked. “Yeah.” I said. “Do you want me to go grab you some food?” He asked. “Yeah..” I said.

He stood up and set me up comfortably in bed. “I’m sorry Mrs. Vampire.” He said, opening the curtains. “Ah, I’m melting.” I said, trying to have some fun. He handed me the TV remote and left the room. I scrolled through the guide and didn’t find anything good so I put on my favorite Forrest Gump. A couple minutes later Austin came back with two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and my pink Stanley filled to the brim with water. “I want you to eat and drink.” He said sitting in bed next to me. “Thank you, Aus.” I smiled. “What kind of test does the doctor want you to have done?” He asked. “Labs.” I sighed. “Damnit. Again?” He asked, knowing my crippling fear of needles. “Yep, again.” I sighed. “I’m sorry, honey.” He said. “I’ll get through, I just want to know whats wrong with me.” I said. “Nothing’s wrong with you, honey.” He said. “You know what I mean.” I said. He nodded and took a bite of his sandwich. “I called my agent and publicist and told them to clear my schedule for the next couple weeks. The only thing I have to attend is the Oscars and of course if you can, I want you there with me.” He smiled. “Aus, you don’t have to do that for me. I want you to do interviews and photo shoots.” I sighed.

My big thing was that I never wanted to be a burden to him, I told him about my problems on the second date and promised him that if something ever was holding him down that we would go our separate ways. His career was going so well and I couldn’t be more proud of him and I wouldn’t let anything slow him down, especially me. “Y/n, you’re my girl, I’m going to take care of you. I love you so much.” He kissed my head. “I love you, Aus.” I said.

After we finished eating and Austin took the plates into the kitchen and came back into the room, I felt my eyes drooping as the exhaustion from the past couple of days hit me. “Are you tired, baby?” He asked. I nodded. “Every time I try to sleep the RLS kicks in and I just end up walking around the apartment.” I sighed. “C’mere.” He said, helping me lay between his legs, my head resting on his shoulder. He took my leg in his hands and started gently massaging. I let out a happy sigh and dropped my head back as I finally felt a little relief from the past couple days of hell. “Get some rest. I’m right here.” He whispered in my ear. I gladly obliged and let sleep finally reach me as I laid in his warm embrace.

Taglist:

@Purejasmine

@violetdaze25

@maddiemunson333

@Shelbygeek

@ABloversblog

Stars above | 02

Characters: Taehyung x Reader

Word count: 1.4K

Synopsis: Your nagging roommate is desperate for a third person to help meet the rent and your university just so happens to be running a fully-funded government grant for anyone who signs up to participate in the Intergalactic Exchange program.

Having an alien for a roommate is just asking for all kinds of trouble, though.

Alien!Taehyung x reader

Rating: Teens

Notes: You know I really feel sorry for reader throughout this drabble series because it’s bad enough to be adopted by one extrovert when you’re an introvert but imagine like having two annoying extroverts decide they both want to adopt you and then constantly war over you? Reader didn’t deserve this LOL

Masterlist

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

“So.” Nayeon sighs, arms folded across her chest as she stands imposingly in the living room, towering over the pathetic pile of blankets that currently houses a shivering Taehyung. “It comes down to this. They really weren’t joking about alien invasions.”

“You’re being dramatic.” You snap at her as you walk in from the kitchen, carefully balancing a bowl of vegetable soup (the closest thing you could think of in substitute of chicken soup). Nayeon merely continues to glare at the cowering alien while you settled down next to him on the couch.

The poor thing looks like death- his skin has taken on a shimmering blue sheen, courtesy of his body trying to sweat out the infection, and a gathering pile of blue-stained tissues rests in the bucket you had set beside the couch for his convenience. 

“I am not, (Y/N).” She insists, still glaring at the alien. You settle on the couch beside him, balancing the tray beside him and offer him a spoon. “He’s invaded our living room. He’s stealing my best friend. He’s got you hand-feeding him!”

She gestures to the spoon in your hand- you had, in fact, been in the middle of spoon feeding Taehyung but it’s only because his hands were trembling so much that he could burn himself on the soup. But after looking at how miserable he looked the entire dag, you’d felt the burden of responsibility weigh you down until finally you’d tugged him out of his bedroom and set him down into the living room with a blanket and set to work making him some food.

“First of all,” you say calmly, holding the spoon to Taehyung’s lips as he obediently accepts a mouthful. He’s watching you intently through squinted eyes, his shoulders rising and falling in shallow, uncomfortable breaths. “I’m not your best friend and I’m sick of you telling every person you meet that I am.” You scold her. She rolls her eyes because despite your constant insistence that you are not best friends, Nayeon is far too obstinate to accept that. She was bull-headed at the best of times. “Second of all, whose fault was it that Taehyung was stuck in the rain for hours and now has a cold?”

That is a strong enough point for Nayeon to quiet for at least a minute. It has to be a world record. 

“You never hand feed me when I’m sick.” She finally pipes up, settling into the armchair in the room and folding her arms with a pout. You arch an eyebrow at her because while what she’s saying is true, she’s also insufferably dependant on you whenever she’s sick. You find it ridiculous for her to begrudge Taehyung similar treatment considering he’s experiencing the awfulness of a cold for the first time.

“You’ve made me massage your scalp before.” You remind her as a comeback, before gesturing to Taehyung, who is leaning against the couch and shivering. “It’s literally what we signed up for with this program. So if you’re happy to take over, you can, but either way he’s getting spoon-fed until his hands stop shaking.” 

Nayeon pouts, but you know the victory is won, for now. 

“I greatly appreciate the care, but is it common for humans to be so attentive to those who have taken ill?” Taehyung rasps curiously. Even Nayeon winces at the state his voice is in. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

“It’s not common.....” she sulks. “(Y/N) just always takes care of people, in her own, grumpy way.” 

Glossy dark eyes meet your own, and he tilts his head. It’s the same intent look from earlier, and despite the way he’s pale from fever and squinty from discomfort, it’s a laser focus that has you shifting uncomfortably just a little bit.

“I can believe that.” He finally says. Oddly, the attention makes the back of your neck feel a little hot, and you eventually look away, unsure of how to respond. He’s been like this since you picked him up from the club last night- careful, observant. That trademark cheeriness you’d witnessed on his first night here has yet to resurface, and yet you don’t think the way he’s watching you is tinged with any ill-will. It just feels... probing. Like he’s trying to puzzle you out.

“Everyone in our friend group calls her the Universal Big Sister because she’ll always look after you but she’ll also beat your ass at any given opportunity.” Nayeon continues, oblivious to your moment of fluster. It allows you to regain your feet, at least. 

“I’ll beat your ass.” You snap at her, before turning to glare at Taehyung. “Eat your soup.” You all but snarl. He winces, eyes going wide and bewildered.

“Understood.” He says, leaning forward to obediently slurp at the soup. He finishes the last of it and leans back. He still looks terrible and briefly you wonder if maybe you should have called his intergalactic agency for medical assistance despite his pleads not to. Can his alien anatomy even cope with a human cold? 

Your hand comes up to brush away the sweaty strands of hair that cling to his forehead before you realise what you’re doing. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the gesture, but he doesn’t flinch or pull away. If anything, his head tilts ever so slightly, leaning into the gesture. His eyelashes flutter contentedly and something foreign and warm flutters in your stomach.

“Go to bed. It’s warmer in your room.” You finally say, and your voice sounds a little rougher than before in your ears. Maybe you’re catching his cold- you should clear away. He’s eaten something, at least. From here it’s just a matter of him sleeping off the worst of it. You’re ready to get to your feet, but a clammy hand on your arm stops you. 

“But I’d prefer your company, and you’re currently taking residence in this room.” Taehyung says, and its in the most pathetic tone you’ve ever heard. Despite your desire to leave the room and flee from these strange feelings, you find yourself sinking back against the couch against your will. You don’t now how this weirdo alien has done it but he’s got you suckered- he could probably ask for your entire savings and if he asked in that pathetic, wobbly tone, you’d hand it over without blinking an eye.

“Fine. But go to sleep- the best way to get through these is to sleep them off.” You say gruffly, and he nods eagerly, before leaning across the couch and settling his head against your lap. 

Your eyes widen. His hair is fluffy and tickles against your exposed knees and his body runs a couple of degrees warmer than yours. Your heart lurches and you wonder if you’d made a mistake to take over from Nayeon- surely by the time the exchange is over you’ll have developed some sort of cardiomyopathy.

“What are you-“ you protest. 

“If it’s necessary to stay warm during these spells of fever, surely the warmth you emit is the most efficient way to do so.” He cuts you off, sounding unreasonably logical for someone who’s trying to get you to let him rest his head in your lap. before turning to glance at you out of the corner of his eyes. You narrow your eyes at him in response, but he releases another pathetic cough and you groan, leaning back into the couch in acquiescence. If he were a cat, he’d have released a contented purr with the way his eyelids flutter close and he settles against your thighs.

“See!” Nayeon almost shrieks, from where she had lost interest mostly and had previously just been scrolling through tiktok on her phone.  You wince at the sheer volume of her voice as she leaps to her feet and points at Taehyung in outrage. “Now he’s invaded my best friend!”

A well-timed glare from you has her quieting, lowering herself cautiously back into her chair. 

Right as she seats herself, she opens her mouth, probably to offer something unhelpful, but you silence her with a more potent glare. 

Taehyung pipes up then, from where he’d been gradually settling into sleep. It’s an unfamiliar word, smooth and musical, but you don’t quite catch the syllables that form it. 

“What?” You ask. He smiles without opening his eyes. 

“It’s a fruit, on our planet. The shell is sharp and incredibly dangerous. But within, the flesh is very sweet and nutritious.” He squints open one eye to assess your reaction. “It reminds me of you.” 

Nayeon’s resulting guffaws signify that he’s significantly pacified her distress. Your cheeks flush hot, and you have half a mind to shove him off your lap. 

You just settle for glaring, and his smile merely widens and he settles back against your lap. 

Stupid alien. 

My First Snzfic (N/ewsies)

I was informed that people would be interested in reading my, *ahem*, N/ewsies snzfic, so... here it is. I don’t really know where it came from, I just got possessed by the idea recently and... this is the result. It’s also the first snzfic I’ve actually worked up the courage to post here so... that’s an important milestone, right?

Please note that the characters here are aged-up slightly from canon (early 20s). This also takes place in my Modern College AU, which is honestly so far removed from the original source material that you don’t really need to know anything about N/ewsies to read this. It’s basically an original story, I just borrowed the character’s names and a bit of their personalities.

I think that’s everything so... enjoy! And feel free to let me know if you’d like to read more stories featuring these characters/in this universe, or if you have any other ideas you’d like to see me write. I’m open to inspiration.

When Katherine opened the door to her apartment, Jack was taken aback. The normally extremely put-together journalism major was clad in a sweatshirt and flannel pajama pants, her hair was piled into a messy bun on top of her head, and she wore a large pair of glasses. Perhaps most alarmingly of all, her eyes looked heavy with dark circles underneath, and unshed tears made them appear glassy and unfocused. Katherine's nose, too, looked like it had seen better days, flushed a deep red and clearly swollen.

"Woah, Ace... you okay?" Jack asked as she stepped aside so he could enter.

"Mby whole he-hhh-head itches," she replied stuffily, pressing a crumpled tissue to her nose as her nostrils twitched wildly. Jack shut the door behind him and waited a moment to see if anything came of it, but the urge to sneeze seemed to back off as Katherine lowered the tissue with an exasperated sigh. "I hate this."

Jack frowned sympathetically. "Yeah, I hear ya. Allergy season's been bad so far, Crutchie's got it even worse than you."

"Poor guy," Katherine murmured. "Although I don't see h-hehhh... uhhHHHH- UHHchiew! Hngxt-chew! Ugh, sorry. Snf. I don't see how that's possible."

"Trust me, it ain't pretty." Jack shook his head, then held up the plastic bag he was carrying. "I got the medicine ya asked for. Ask me, though, you should get somethin' stronger from ya doctor."

Katherine shook her head. "I did, years ago, but it made me so drowsy it was impossible for me to work. This doesn't fix all my symptoms, but it at least takes care of the sne- ehhhh- AHH-gnxgt! The sndeezing. Snf."

"Bless ya." Jack handed her the bag, which she took gratefully. "Well, here's hopin' it does the trick."

Katherine nodded, reaching into the bag and pulling out the small box which contained the nasal spray she swore by. Swiping at her relentlessly dripping nose, she gestured to the side table in her living room, upon which sat a box of tissues. "Sorry, cand you hand me a couple tidssues? I ndeed to blow mby ndose before I take this." Snf- snf! "Ugh."

"Sure." Jack obliged, grabbing the box and pulling out a couple tissues which Katherine accepted gratefully. Steepling her hands around her nose, she let forth a productive sounding blow, causing Jack to wince in sympathy. She must really feel miserable.

Katherine aggressively rubbed at her nose with the tissues when she was done, her breath hitching and her head tilting back as she inadvertently coaxed more sneezes forward.

"Hah- ah- ahhh- AHschngxt! Ngxt-shiew! Da-hhh- damnit... Hihhhh..."

"Don't hold 'em back, it'll just make ya have ta start all over again," Jack advised, earning a watery glare from Katherine as she geared up for another round. She did listen to him, however, as she convulsed forward into the tissues with a fit of surprisingly loud unstifled sneezes.

"Ihhhh- ISCHIEW! Aaaa- aHHHH- A'kSCHIEW! K'SCHIEW! Heh- ESCHIEW! Hahhhhh... snf... ahhhHHH- AH'gschiew! Guh..."

"Jeez, Ace, bless ya. You really weren't kiddin' on the phone, huh?"

"Obviously not, Sherlock," Katherine grumbled, pushing her glasses back up onto the bridge of her nose. She took advantage of the momentary respite and pried open the box, taking out the spray without bothering to read the instructions. She was something of an old hand at this.

Inserting the nozzle of the bottle into each of her still twitching nostrils, Katherine sighed in relief as the cooling spray calmed her inflamed nasal passages. The tickle she had been fighting all day began to dissipate, and she gave an experimental sniff before smiling at Jack.

"Thanks, Cowboy. Sorry about... all that."

Jack waved her off. "Don't worry about it, Kath. 'S what friends are for, right? Plus now I can go tell Crutchie he's gonna have ta step up his game. He's got serious competition now."

Katherine shook her head, wiping her nose with the tissues as she spoke. "You're an idiot, Jack Kelly."

The Lost Boys, Star, and Laddie- What They’re Like When They’re Sick -Headcannons

A/N- I’m sick again today so this idea just kinda popped into my head 😅 inspired by how my family, friends, past students (I had a high school placement at an elementary school, was part of a literacy program for little kids, and was a substitute dance teacher), and I act when sick lol

Also- this is my first time EVER writing for Marko, so I hope I did okay 😅 I apologize if any characters are too OOC (also sorry for super long author note whoops)

Warnings- mention of medicine, food mentioned once (last hc), blood mentioned once (last hc), I think that’s it though?

I used lots of gifs today 😅 gif credits go to @whatisgoingonpaul for the group gif, @bonniebirddoesgifs for the David gif, @running-with-the-devil for the Marko gif, @welcometomymadness-blog for the Dwayne gif, @gold-chaotic-wizard for the Paul gif, @losthavenmine for the Star gif, and @welcometomymadness-blog for the Laddie gif 🥰

David

He’ll try to act all tough and such, but secretly he wants to be looked after

He will never admit to this though

If he’s sick usually Paul, Star, and Dwayne will stay behind to take care of him (although it’s probably mainly Star and Dwayne... Paul just kinda goes off and does his own thing 😆) and Marko will go out and get food and any supplies David might need (medicine, tissues, etc)

He’s super miserable the whole time because he absolutely hates being sick

He’s really grateful to the others for looking after him though

Marko

Like David, Marko loathes when he’s sick

Marko will try to hide it at first and just tough it out

Eventually he gives in and lets the others take care of him

He will be super grumpy about being sick

He also won’t be one to admit it, but he wants attention and affection

Wants all the hugs

Dwayne

He finds being sick a bit of an annoyance, but he’s not nearly as upset about it as some of the others

It’s just something he has to go through and deal with. Yeah, it sucks, but whatever

Unlike the others, Dwayne is not one for physical affection when he’s sick. He doesn’t want anyone he cares about getting sick as well

If the others pester him enough, he will give in and allow a couple quick hugs ☺️

Paul

This boy can, and will, pout about it

What do you mean, he has to stay home and get better?

He’s absolutely miserable

He won’t take any medicine because it “tastes bad” (or some other excuse)

The kind of person who uses a tissue and throws it anywhere (on the bed/ couch, on the floor, etc)

Absolutely requires affection

Demands hugs

Needs people to pay attention to him. He’s sad, okay? Give the poor guy a hug :(

Star

Gets really tired/ sleepy when she’s sick

She goes automatically into self-care mode getting all the supplies she needs, doing all the right stuff, etc

She just wants to get this over with as soon as possible

Star will protest if anyone tries to get near her when she’s sick. She doesn’t want to get anyone else sick

She gives up protesting pretty quick and will 100% love being in a giant cuddle pile with her five favourite people ☺️

Laddie

The kind of kid who gets sad when they’re sick

This means he can’t have fun and go to the boardwalk with his brothers and sister 🥺

The boys and Star all stay and take care of him (sometimes in shifts so that they can get food, blood, and get anything they might need for Laddie). They do whatever they can to cheer him up and distract him from the fact he’s sick. They look after him so well and do everything they can for him :)

He gets hugs from everybody 💕

Winter Challenge 2021: Day 7 (Catching a Cold)

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Female Reader Summary: Frankie has to convince you to rest without having the ability to speak POV: Werewolf Frankie Warnings: discussion of hunting/eating animals Words: 825 A/N: From my Lunar Cycle/Bitten universe

As the transformation agony dissipates, Frankie feels the hardwood floor under his fur and inhales your familiar scent.

When you sneeze, he opens his eyes and thumps his tail in greeting. Sniffling, you smile at him. “Hey there.”

He grins, turning onto his front, and nuzzles at your hands. Your fingers caress his face, reassuring the Wolf.

“You got your clothes off in time,” you chuckle, nodding at the sweats and flannel shirt piled by the couch.

Your voice sounds wrong, hoarse and congested, and you’re breathing mostly through your mouth. Your eyes are a little red and puffy, too.

Concerned, he licks your cheek. No fever. He tries to remember if the human side of him knew you’re sick. You definitely weren’t yesterday, but he can never remember much about the hours leading up to the moon’s rise, so he’s not sure about today.

When you sneeze again, Frankie takes the tissue box off the end table by the couch and sets it on your lap.

“Thanks,” you say with a tired sigh, grabbing one to blow your nose. “I should grab the travel pack from my purse to take.” You stand and head to retrieve it from the bedroom.

Frankie realizes that you intend to go on the hunt, despite being unwell. Of course you do. You constantly put everyone else before yourself, especially him, and most especially over the last few months since he was bitten.

Well, there’s no way you’re going to do that tonight.

Trotting to the master bedroom, he hears your near-constant sniffs and the occasional cough.

“Sorry, I thought they were in here,” you say, dumping the contents of your purse onto the bed. No sign of the travel pack. “I’ll just stuff tissues in my pockets.”

Frankie positions himself in the door frame, blocking you from exiting. He nudges your hip, then nods at the bed.

“They’re not in there and I have no idea where else they’d be. We need to get going, though, so I’ll just take from the box in the living room. No biggie.”

He mimics a sneeze, points at you, then whines in concern.

Understanding this time, you smile reassuringly, “It’s just a cold.” You scratch his butt, making his back legs want to give out with how good it feels. But, no, he must focus!

Annoyed by your flippancy, he stomps over to your dresser, opens one of the drawers, and paws through it until he finds your coziest pair of pajamas.

Coughing into your sleeve, you roll your eyes. “I told you, I sound worse than I feel.” Apparently, his human self had had a discussion with you about this, and he’s guessing you ignored his advice to rest.

For a split second, he debates what to do next. He could go out alone, he supposes, but he really doesn’t want to. Without you to keep an eye on things, he’s scared he’ll run into another person and accidentally hurt them. And you know that, which is why you’re pushing to go.

The best option seems to be to eat some of the spare meat from the freezer. He hasn’t had to do that since the first time he transformed, but it’s the best option for tonight.

After setting the pajamas on top of the dresser, he walks back to you. A shiver runs through you, making you look pitiful. He rears back on his haunches and wraps his arms around you, snuggling you into his warmth.

“Honey,” you protest, voice muffled by his chest, “we need to go.” Even as you talk, though, you’re melting into him.

He begins to lick your forehead. He can feel some of your discomfort easing as his tongue laps over the pressure points on your temples.

The relaxed moment is broken when you duck away from him to sneeze three times. Snuffling miserably, you swipe your nose with your cuff. “God, I’m sorry. I can’t believe I got a stupid cold during the full moon. I really didn’t feel too bad earlier, but, now that night’s here, I’m turning into a mess.”

Frankie makes a soft shushing sound before kissing your lips gently. He hopes his eyes convey that you don’t need to be sorry. Then, he gestures at the pajamas.

You rub your eyes. “You need to eat.”

He mimes opening the freezer, unwrapping frozen meat, and eating it.

“Are you sure?”

Nodding, he strokes his thumb across your cheek.

You sigh, acquiescing. “Just leave the ham, that’s for Christmas.”

Half an hour later, Frankie’s eaten and you’ve had a hot shower. Finally in those pajamas, you climb into bed next to him. “You got enough?”

He roos an affirmative, curling up around you like a fuzzy, weighted blanket. Your hands dig into his fur as you exhale in relief, giving up the fight against your body.

Massaging your back lightly, he smiles softly, glad that he’s able to finally look after you like you always look after him.

Thank you SO much for reading this story; I'd love to hear your thoughts! 🥰

Frankie Morales Masterlist Werewolf Masterlist

The Outside

Bucky x reader

Word count: ~1k

Warning: Hurt/comfort. Angst (Depressing thoughts).

A/N: this is purely self indulgent, i feel like shit and i want bucky by my side. I'm writing this straight up on my phone so idk the word count and this is unedited bc I'm too tired from crying.

--

Bucky hasn't seen you all day, when he asked around the compound he only got negative results about your whereabouts.

He went to your room, knocking lightly and calling out to you.

"Y/N?" When no answer came he opened the door a bit, just a tiny bit to let him have a glimpse into your room. What he saw made his heart ache. There you were on your bed, laying on your side. He could hear the cries you were trying to keep quiet. He could see the movements of the blanket that was over you as your body shook from the sobs.

Opening the door wider, the creak and light that came from the hallway startled you and you turned around only to see Bucky there with a wide worried look in his beautiful blue eyes.

"Doll?"

"Bucky," you stuttered as you tried to use your hair to cover your tear stained cheeks. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to check up on you, i haven't seen you around today..."

"Oh, i just felt a bit sleepy, it's fine, you can go now." You forced out a court smile and a laugh, hoping he will let this go. You knew you can't hide any of this from a supersoldier, and you knew that you can't make up any excuse that he wouldn't immediately catch as a lie. But you only hoped he will let you rest and cut short the humiliation.

Bucky closed the door and locked it, getting closer to your bed and sitting on it.

"Doll, tell me what's wrong? What's gotten you crying?" He brought his metal arm to cup your cheek and wipe away a lingering tear. The intimacy of the action, and the delicacy of his touch only made it harder to keep your guard up and your tears gave away and spilled down your cheeks.

The broken sob that followed it broke Bucky's heart more and he took off his shoes and got on the bed to be closer to you. Bucky pulled you to his side so that your head rested in the crook of his neck and his left arm circled you as his right one drew patterns on your arm.

"Tell me what to do to make it better, angel." He whispered in your ear and kissed your forehead. He brought your legs over his lap and wrapped you up into his, so that all you could feel was just him, without the outside world.

"You can't make it better, it's silly to cry over it anyways." You sniffled and put your head just above his heart. Bucky took a moment to look around your room. He noticed the book on your bedside table alongside the tissue box. He noticed the tissues on your covers and the ones that were behind you on the floor. He noticed the thrown remote on the other side of the room.

"Just tell me, please doll." He ran his fingers through your hair, hoping to ground you and calm you down. It worked.

"There is just so much hate out there, outside. So much hate and so many awful people that just get away with being awful. It's so horrible there outside, in the world, and i can't deal with it. Everywhere i look online a person is being ignorant and hateful, insensitive- they don't even care about other people and their feelings!" It only made you sob harder and it got harder to understand what you were saying between the sniffles and the sharp intake of breath, but thank god he has super hearing. "I feel so helpless because i can't do anything about it, i can't stop the hate and it makes me miserable."

He took your hand in his and put it on his chest, letting you feel the rise and fall of his breaths.

"Doll, look at me." His low voice made you obey and he melted at the sight of your sad eyes, he would do anything to get you to smile again, he can't bear you being so sad. He will never leave you alone. "For the most part of my life all i knew was hate, that's all I saw and that's all i felt. I know there are awful things out there, humans that have no humanity inside them, but there are also good things. Never forget that there are good things. After all the hate i went through i got here, and i found my little ray of sunshine in you, in steve, and in this compound full of good people. Don't forget that through all the hate there are puppies and kittens, there are good books and marvelous movies; don't forget that there are more people like you, fighting the good fight and slowly but surely making this world a better place. One footstep at a time and they are changing this world for the better."

Bucky sighed in relief when he noticed your gaze was focused on him and your breath now matched his.

"In life there is a pile of good things and a pile of bad things. The pile of good things doesn't always soften the pile of bad things, but also the pile of bad things doesn't spoil the pile of good things or makes them unimportant."

You nodded at him when a small yawn escaped you.

"Remember that there is still kindness in this world, take it from me, it will get better and you will be able to see all the bright places from between the clouds." He kissed the crown of your head.

"I will." Your voice was low, you grew tired from the tears. "Thank you, Bucky."

"I promise I will never let you get hurt from the world outside. I will be here for you, forever." And here, inside the small home that for you was Bucky, you found yourself believing again.

crybaby (therapist!overhaul x f!reader)

summary: She nodded, too ashamed and drunk on her own high to function. 

Unsatisfied by her response, Chisaki grabbed her face. Her rosy cheeks squished in his grip. Chisaki realized she was cute like this. A little puffy fish. 

“You’re being such an annoying pig. My patience is growing thin. Tell me. Tell me you want my cock.” His sentence stumbled from him, in between heavy breaths. 

The woman buried her face in his chest, “Please fuck me, Kai. I need it -- please, please, please.”  warnings: boot worship, dubcon, light scalpel play, male masturbation, light medical play, praise, smut, overstimulation, yandere elements word count: 4,162 lil note: this was written as part of the bnha degeneracy 9 to 5 collab! also we like the banner?? i’m thinking of bein fancy with my posts now 👉👈 masterlist | tipjar | twitter | commission info | ask box is open (for requests)

"His eyes were lifeless. No light entered, no light left. I guess," the woman pauses and pushes out a gravely sigh, "no… refraction." Chisaki Kai notes she says the word with grief; as if it were painful. He scribbles a note: overemotional. Golden eyes examined the woman. Scanning and memorizing the imperfections in her armor. The woman that sat comfortably. It was like her little sad frame didn't bother her. Her body shook and a whimper escaped. 

'Fascinating,' he thought. She was a pathetic creature. Sobbing once a week into his fine leather. The woman was an ugly crier. Her face would swell; puffy and pink. Eyes glossy and red. Sometimes, Chisaki's pants would constrict from the display. Misery in it's finest form. A show just for him. 

Chisaki would be lying if he didn't think this blubbering woman would look better wrapped around his cock. Her squishy face smashed against his groin. Eyes watery and looking up, words of praise muffled. Latex gloves gripping her hair as he degrades her. 'A pathetic little crybaby.'

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The first time she had cried, Chisaki sent her packing. His stern voice demanding she "fix her attitude" before returning. Yet, the very next week this weepy woman crumbles. Her voice was a howl. Low and haunting. She'd shake. Her tiny body unable to contain grief. It was disgusting. This was time for help, not fits. The second time, Chisaki only found it unsightly. 

But the third time? The third time she was able to speak, and her voice trembled. Words so sad and awful. She was lesser than him. She was pathetic. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Eventually, Chisaki memorized her trauma; low self esteem and a lack of power from an event involving a roommate. Some days he learned more than others. Sometimes the woman would simply come to cry. No words, simply the sound of her wails. They bounced off the room like rubber. Her sobbing stuck in his ears like honey. Thick. Syrupy. Sweet. 

Nothing seemed to improve during their sessions. It was always one fit after another. No change. No spiral. This crybaby was the only constant for Chisaki. His patients came and went, conditions manageable. But this little crybaby of a woman was expected every Friday at 4. Punctuality was her only redeeming quality. There was something pleasant in appreciating Chisaki's time. 'Considerate' was the word. 

She stopped crying as the clock struck 6. 'Like clockwork.' Truthfully, Chisaki believed the woman allowed herself this insecurity. The two hours with him were cathartic. He circles the word in his notes. His canary eyes were glued to her file now. The woman's face was bland and uninteresting. 'You look so plain like this.' A scowl returned to Chisaki's lips. 

"Thank you, Dr. Chisaki," the woman beamed. She often pretended as if she hadn't wept. As if Chisaki were paying her a kindness. It enraged him; she was scum. Her position was beneath him. Her eyes wouldn't leave him. Glossy and wrinkled in a grin. 

'Sickening.' 

Chisaki suppressed a shiver, "I appreciate our talks," his lips twist into a smile, "Drive home safely." He always emphasized the talking. Her trembling lips and heavy voice were erotic in a way. Chisaki wondered what her tears tasted like. He envisioned himself atop her; fingers exploring her pussy, tongue lapping at her tears. 

He watched the woman leave. Golden orbs trained on her back. She took her time leaving; punishment for watching her cry. Chisaki’s cheeks grew hot. It was nauseating to think of bending her over the fine leather. Chisaki was convinced she’d be obedient, her ass waiting in the air. 

‘You’d be a soaking little crybaby, wouldn’t you?’

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

His evening began with ritual. Chisaki slipped off his slacks, opting to keep his sweater on. He felt less dirty that way. His cock sprung from his boxer briefs. Heavy and veiny. Chisaki rubbed the tip before spitting on it. He rubbed the spit in, thinking of her. Drooling and sobbing on his cock. Chisaki wanted to rob her of oxygen, ‘Her face must be so cute when she chokes.’ The thought hit Chisaki as he stroked his length. He grunted, palm pumping his cock. His other hand cradled his balls, softly kneading. Orgasms felt so dirty. Unnatural. Viscous cum shot into the pillowy deepness of a tissue. 

He looked at it and groaned. Tossing the tissue away, Chisaki started preparation. 

The hum of a computer filled his bedroom. It was ancient, but Chisaki wasn’t picky. Besides, the rudimentary technology only served one purpose. This was Chisaki’s gateway into ‘hysteria and the female orgasm.’ A million and five hundred thousand results. Everything at his fingertips. He observed her enough -- watched her enough to realize what she needed. She needed his latex clad fingers. His cock buried in her seeping core. He’d stretch her, ruin her body for anyone but him. Her cunt was made for him. 

Chisaki sat in his underwear. Face focused on an order page. Recently, Chisaki found himself hyper focusing on this fantasy; his little crybaby overstimulated and mewling, begging Chisaki for relief. She’d pray for his cock. He was her only release. 

The plan was simple. Allow her to breakdown as usual until he could no longer handle it. Then, he’d offer the woman a glass of water. Claiming that she must be ‘so dehydrated.’ If she refused, Chisaki planned to persist. ‘It’s for my peace of mind, too.’ He could strike her vulunability. Show her someone cared. She was naive and too stupid, so clearly she would lap up his kindness. Insist on drinking every last drop, letting the ‘medication’ take full effect. This necessity was for his sake. Chisaki didn’t want his crybaby too loud. 

His mind drifted to her wiggling beneath him, his boot pressed against her cheek. Perhaps he would force her to lick it, if only to remind her of her place. 

“Beneath me,” he murmurs as a hand sneaks under his waistline. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

His kit sits comfortably, tucked behind a bookshelf. Chisaki recognized he needed items. Physical means to make his vision into reality. He anticipated she would come into his embrace quietly… but a part of him hoped she’d fight him. Permit him to make an example of her. Chisaki’s chest tightened. The clock ticked slowly, as if chastising Chisaki for his plans. However, he knew she needed this -- needed him. 

In his kit sat latex gloves, rope, a scalpel, and an expensive vibrator. The personal massager took some convincing to buy; he hated the idea of a market for these… toys… but it was essential. Her face had to be flushed and sweaty. It was important she knew how inferior she was. Chisaki was doing her an injustice by letting the woman merely exist without him. 

A soft beep echoed; the beginning of his plan. Chisaki sat with his legs crossed. Leisurely. Slender fingers atop his notes. The little pile before him was a fraction of his observations. His little crybaby was interesting, to say the least. She was his favorite client. Chisaki was almost embarrassed by the sheer volume of material he kept. His closet was home to clothes and boxes; all filled with parchment. Their margins were adorned in highlight and sticky notes. Chisaki was nothing if not dedicated. 

Quiet foot falls marked her arrival. The woman would always stand outside until Chisaki welcomed her in. Even asking permission for her therapist appointment. There was something admirable about it -- something Chisaki had to break. 

“Come in,” Chisaki called. His voice carried an airy professionalism. Yellow eyes briefly looked up, but quickly returned to the floor. Chisaki held his lust by memorizing the carpet. 

She shuffled in, gently shutting the door behind her. Despite the miserable crybaby mannerisms, the woman was quite polite. ‘Very well trained for a mutt,’ Chisaki mused. Silence was heavy between them; this weeping woman was never consistent with greetings. Somedays, she wouldn’t choke out a ‘hello’ until deep within her misery. Her words obviously muted by her hands. She liked to cradle her face, Chisaki believed it was to stimulate intimacy. Something she was clearly lacking. 

Settling into a chair, she managed a meek ‘hello’ before salty tears brimmed her eyes. Chisaki snuck a glance; she looked in pain. Her bottom lip stuck between teeth. The woman nibbled at the flesh. Anything to alleviate her sadness. The sharp pain was a perfect anchor.

‘I won’t cry. I won’t cry in front of him today.’ She was going to will herself to hold back tears and actually talk. It was kind enough of Dr. Chisaki to let her openly bawl. In all honesty, the woman hated herself for it. At this point, she was only paying him to watch. The poor man was probably too shy -- too professional to ask her to quit. She was abusing his altruism. The woman bit back a shiver, puffing out her chest. Swallowing sadness. 

Chisaki looked up. Silence between them this early was… "Are you okay?" Her name comes out like a melody. Something he wants to say forever. Chisaki gripped his clipboard. He needed to ground himself. Find haven in reality. 

She stares back, "I come here bec--"

"Don't say it," he murmured. Hand resting comfortably on her thigh. There was an obvious barrier; her leggings. Plush. Almost like her pillowy thighs. Chisaki groped at the plump flesh; "You're so soft." His fingers wander to pinch, "It's disgusting."

The woman remained quiet. Debating with his hand creeping toward her thigh felt dangerous. Dr. Chisaki made her feel dirty; lewd, maybe? She wasn’t sure. The heat in her core was becoming overwhelming. Her mouth moved to speak, but nothing fell out. Empty.

“Silent now, are we? What happened to your big speech? Tell me about how you’re feeling… right now.” His words were a command. No trace of a request. Chisaki needed to hear her quake; wiggle against his clothed bulge. 

Saliva pooled in her mouth. Anxiety, anxiety, anxiety. 

“I want to go home,” She blubbered, voice strained and whining. Her vision was blurry at best. Everything was splotchy. Dr. Chisaki was an imposing shape of purple and black. She knew he wore a tie; simple deep purple. Shirt. His shirt is black. It takes her a moment to compose thoughts. His hand and her only time to weep were overstimulating.

Chisaki continued his assault, fingers violently rubbing at her covered slit. He wanted to see a tear before the gloves. Before her examination. His cock pulsated at the thought. Latex in her mouth, stuffing her with the cure his cock. A shock -- an orgasm (even this word was perverse to Chisaki) would dislodge any feverishness. Dissipation. Her cries for him. 

“You’re crying,” Chisaki commented; hand slow against her crotch, “Little crybaby.” 

The woman muffled a sob and instead bit her lip. Blood bloomed in the corner of her smile. The doctor was a curse. This was illegal. He shouldn’t be touching her like this. 

He sighed.

“Nothing just as I suspected.” 

“This... “ A heave interjects, “This is my time. I can’t express myself like this.” She motions to her tears. Honestly, the woman was high-strung. Revealing herself -- taking off a mask -- was cathartic. Liberation in its purest form. 

He pursed his lips and harshly removed his hand. The auburn haired man stood up; crossing the room to a benign black bag. Chisaki rooted around for his gloves. Latex, white, a barrier between them. Chisaki wanted to touch her briefly -- skin to skin was important. Necessary. Something unavoidable. 

A snap resounded through the room. Loud. Interrupting. Chisaki wanted to be heard. He wanted her to gawk; eyes glued to him. 

Her face erupted into confusion. Fear nestled into her veins. Too cold, too much. "What is..?" The woman's voice is quiet and still muffled from tears. 

'This is the cutest you've looked, isn't it?' Chisaki thought of pinching her cheeks, examining the damage. His pants constricted. It was a kindness to teach this wrenched woman her place. 

"Keep talking. This is a part of your therapy," Chisaki stated plainly. He rummaged in the bag further, producing something thin and shiny; metallic caught in the fluorescence. Uncomfortable by the sight, the woman shifted her gaze to his feet. His choice of footwear was odd. Polished, tar black boots. His footfalls were anything but quiet. Roaring. Really, she found it intimidating. 

“Please…” She didn’t know why she begged like this. Dr. Chisaki wasn’t supposed to be this cruel. He was a therapist -- her therapist. He seemed so balanced before. Normal. And yet the man before her stood with molten eyes and a scalpel. 

Slowly, the auburn haired man strode toward her. As if he were a lion savoring his meal. Inspection for prime dread. “Don’t be stupid and move. It’d be a shame if I,” Chisaki paues to taste the words, “hurt you.” Like any greedy man, Chiaski expected resistance. 

But like a good little doe, she stares into the scalpel. ‘So moronic shiny things distract you.’ In a way, he found it enduring. She was so pathetic, so useless without his sympathetic ear. Functioning without him must be a chore; he was her sanctuary. 

He stops in front of her, boot tapping against wood. “I think it’s beneficial you learn your place, don’t you? Society must be so pressuring for you. As your licensed healthcare professional, it’s my business.”

The woman gathered remaining courage. 

“I’ll call the police.” Before her threat was tangible, Chisaki grabbed her wrists. They fit perfectly in one gloved hand. 

“Stop being such a little crybaby bitch.” Cool metal touches her cheek. A warning from Dr. Chisaki. 

A shiver overtook her spine. The scalpel was new, shiny, and sharp. He could slice into her face right now, nothing was truly stopping him. Anxiety bubbled in her mind. This man was dangerous. Maybe, maybe monstrous. He listened to her, let her reveal such an intimate part, only to turn on her trust. Betrayal in the worst form. 

The woman doesn’t respond.

“Get on all fours,” Chisaki commanded. He punctuated his sentence with a shove. “You’re such a pig bitch, you know that right? It’s sad you think anyone would listen to you sob.”

Her eyes grew into shock. With trembling hands, the woman gets on her knees. Her palms were flat atop spotless wood. Dr. Chisaki was quirky like that. If anything, she admired him for it. He seemed so disciplined. ‘All lies,’ she thinks, melancholy stuck in her eyes. Her heart practically ached. Ached for herself, ached for him.

His lips curled into a smirk. Eyes genuinely wrinkled. Finally, this succubus learned. A jolt of excitement shot through his cock; the member twitching. 

“Kiss my boots.”

She blinked at his demand. Her mind had to catch up. She needed to absorb the sentence. Should she resist, kick him, and take off? Could she? Her mind swirled with violent images. Large hands wrapped around her throat. His naked body sweaty against hers. 

The woman decided to comply. Chisaki watched in anticipation as her lips made contact with glossy leather. Staying up to wax them was worth it for this. Every fantasy was drab compared to her. She was meek; placing light kisses. Her lips ghosted and left little spit puddles in her wake. Chisaki felt a certain hotness in his stomach. The act was so disgusting, and yet, Chisaki was grinding his bulge into his palm. 

Suddenly, the woman stopped and looked up at her confidant. “Can I -- please -- can I leave now?” 

Chisaki frowns. She doesn’t sound broken enough. ‘Fixed enough,’ he corrects. ‘She needs to be fixed. Cured.’

“Did I say you could stop?” The auburn man sneered. He stomped his boot, his patient mask falling. “Keep kissing them. Slobber on them, little pig. Show me how worthless you are.”

Her tongue whirled around, saliva dotting his boots. She sounded flustered. Huffs and soft squirming. “How are you feeling? You seem to be enjoying it.” 

Without meeting his predatory gaze, she whimpered in between sloppy kisses, “I -- I love this so much, Dr. Chisaki.” Such an obedient crybaby. 

“We know each other enough for Kai, you know that.” 

Eager yellow eyes watched. Excitement lit up inside his veins. Hot and unable to reject. 

Being complacent was her only means of survival now. She stopped, doe eyes boring into him.

Drool trailed from her lips, joined with his boot. “Kai, can I?” Her warm hand removed his and rubbed his crotch. Delicate fingers feeling his length, massaging girth and veins. A vibrating, rough groan escaped Chisaki. Something deep. Something feral. It was a sound the woman couldn’t fathom. 

And yet, she felt a tingle between her thighs. 

Chisaki stroked her face. Squishy and tear-stained; she should be embarrassed. How humiliating must it be to grovel and sob? It was pitiful in a way. Broken. Pathetic. “Let me see how much you want my cock, like the filthy pig you are. So greedy.”

In response to his harsh words, the woman graciously unbuckled his sleek belt, and quickly unbuttoned his slacks. His cock was constrained underneath boxer-briefs. The cut showed off his calves, toned and lean. Being this close to Chisaki reminded her how big he was -- he towered over her. 

She fumbled with the hem of his underwear. Unsure if he wanted her hand or her mouth. 

Noticing her confusion, Chisaki brought a gloved finger to her lips, “Suck.” 

The woman shook while she tugged down Chisaki’s boxer-briefs. His cock -- slick with pre-cum -- sprung from their cloth prison. She winced at his size; he would spear her. Shoving away lewd images, she gently stroked him. An experimental touch before she took him into her mouth. His cock was heavy in her mouth. The girth of Chisaki made her cheeks puff. Gently, she tried to work his cock to the back of her throat. His bulbous tip made her gag, a sensation that had Chisaki instinctively forcing his cock down her esophagus. Her walls contracted around him. In a panic, the woman tried to shove him away. The action was futile, which left her with one option: digging her nails into him. Piercing his thighs to get him to stop. 

“Don’t be so rough, piglette.” Chisaki tugged at her hair until she winced, an audible squeal was muffled by his violent thrusting. Spit dribbled down her chin, landing on her chest. Her face was awash with crimson, discomfort in her features. Chisaki took her in like fine wine. Delicious and sweet. 

Her wet tongue tangled with his cock, exploring every inch of him. Hot breath pistoned from her nose. Her nails were still pricking him. Pain mixed with pleasure, until the hot bundle within his stomach felt as if it might explode. Salty pre-cum flooded her mouth; the taste resulting in a sour face. Chisaki knew he’d cum if she didn’t stop. 

Chisaki pushed the woman away. Surprised and caught off guard, she lost balance, slamming her palms on the floor. 

Chisaki stepped out of his clothes and crouched down. The auburn man decided to instead examine her face, and allow his fingers free-range over her delicate body. 

“Stay still,” Chisaki advised, his fingers manipulating the doughy flesh of her breast. She was as soft as he imagined. He could easily bruise her; give her marks that screamed, ‘you belong to Kai Chisaki.’ But he resisted. “Take off your blouse -- slowly -- and tell me how sad and pathetic you truly are.” 

“I’m… I’m so sad all the time. I just have this -- oh god -- I have this deep sadness and it feels suffocating, Kai. It’s pathetic. I’m pathetic.”

Her body stiffened at his request. The words were too harsh. Too rough. She lifted up her shirt and tossed it behind her. She looked away as Chisaki’s monstrous gaze transversed her chest. 

“The bra too, piggie.”

Taking off her bra added another layer of awkwardness. This wasn’t the first time a man saw her like this -- exposed and sweaty… but his hungry eyes sent chills through her. An electricity of unease. 

Cruel hands fondled her breasts. His fingers were faint over her nipples. She leaned into his touch, back arched. Barely audible mewls flew from her lips. Her body betrayed her. It was degrading. She should already be out the door and dialing the police. But no, her body craved him. ‘A compliant little pig.’ Chisaki hands wandered to her hip and played with the edge of her skirt. His motions were playful. This side of him was tolerable. Chisaki was like a school boy; bashful and nervous.

“Now, how are you feeling?” Chisaki asked. His tone was condescending; he wasn’t asking out of benign professionalism, but hateful interest. 

Her mouth opens and then closes. Unable to compose a response, the woman simply places a hand over his. 

Slapping her thigh, Chisaki chides her, “Speak, pig. Use your idotic words and tell sir how you feel.” 

She gulps. 

“I feel sick. This is shameful, s-sir.” The lewd title causes her blush to deepen. Cheeks flush with embarrassment and delight. Chisaki saw his treatment was finally starting to take hold. 

Chisaki snakes a hand under her skirt, massaging her slit once more. Her arousal was still there, clinging wet panties to her cunt. The woman bit her lip trying to stifle groans. The mixture of his fingers on her breast and between her thighs was almost too much. Sweat gathered at her brow as Chisaki slipped a finger into her soaking core. His slender finger pistoned in and out; snapping against her lips. The auburn man had a lack of mercy, his mouth clasped over her neck. Hot mouth sucking at tender flesh. His tongue circled around the abused patch of skin, desperate to savor her. 

The room was an ensemble of depravity; their moans mixed with the squelch of her pussy. She bucked into his digit, her body hurting for the stimulation. Heat built in her stomach, like a balloon filled with fire. The sensation continued to expand until it peaked; a high pitched squeal marking her orgasm. 

There was a popping sound and then, “So excited you cum already, pitiful, and I was hoping you’d squirm more. You want my cock, don’t you?” His finger leaves her cunt. Spongy walls now empty and wanting. 

She nodded, too ashamed and drunk on her own high to function. 

Unsatisfied by her response, Chisaki grabbed her face. Her rosy cheeks squished in his grip. Chisaki realized she was cute like this. A little puffy fish. 

“You’re being such an annoying pig. My patience is growing thin. Tell me. Tell me you want my cock.” His sentence stumbled from him, in between heavy breaths. 

The woman buried her face in his chest, “Please fuck me, Kai. I need it -- please, please, please.” She broke out into a series of pleas mixed with crying. Her body was still numb, still too high to really anticipate more. Overstimulated and teary eyed. 

“On your back,” Chisaki breathed, his face slightly flushed. He maneuvered her bare body and spread her legs around his wiry waist. Her knees hooked at an angle, like a spider.

Chisaki lined himself up with her tender, violated hole. “You’re so fucking insignificant.” His first thrust was hard and without warning. She gasped and placed her palms on his chest. Carnivorous, gold eyes looked down at her, mouth open and panting. His hips snapped against the back of her thigh. The sound was sharp against their perverse moans. A chorus of vulgarity. His girth made her cunt ache, sensitive walls stretched and full. “Do -- do you know how miserable you make me, little crybaby?” Forming sentences was hard. Chisaki’s cock was sucked in by her cunt; stuck in a death grip. ‘Gonna milk me for every bit of cum, aren’t you, piggie?’

Her hands roamed his chest. His relentless pumping was too much. She needed to grab something. To ground herself back into reality and not a cum induced daze. His veins added texture. Something so stimulating the woman found herself atop another peak. Ready to descend. However, Chisaki hadn’t quite reached nirvana. The cool air desensitized him. The heat of her pussy was like a shock. 

“Focus on me.” His raspy voice brought her back into the moment. Squishy body jiggling from the force of Chisaki. Lidded eyes rolled over to gawk at Chisaki. Blissed out. “Honestly, your little crybaby face is cute like this, piggie.” A light slap smacked against her cheek, as if to further compliment her. 

Chisaki’s rutted into her sloppy cunt until the hot brand in his stomach exploded; a deep groan vibrated from his chest as cum squirted into her cunt. He milked each thrust, until his balls lazily slapped against her. Tears streaked her face. Eyes glazed over with ecstasy. He grabbed her face once more. A close up look of the damage, “You did so well for a stupid little crybaby.

✨TW: mentions of dry heaving/throwing up (not graphic)✨

Hey y’all. Guess who’s sitting in his bathroom floor, feeling miserable? I’ve been on the verge of throwing up for like an hour now, but all I keep doing is dry heaving. I’m taking sufferering for my art very seriously lol. I’m definitely not getting any sleep tonight, so I wrote a little drabble about Mickey being sick. Except he actually has someone there to take care of him. Enjoy!

Ian woke up with an instinctual feeling that something was wrong. The room was still dark, save for the night light that Mickey insisted was only for making sure they didn’t trip over anything in the middle of the night. And Mickey himself was no longer in bed. It was far too early for him to be up—3:24am, to be exact—and Ian was always up first anyway.

“Mickey?” He called out softly, slipping out of bed and picking his way across the bedroom floor.

The door was cracked just enough for him to see into the hallway. A thin sliver of light splashed across the floor, coming from under the bathroom door. Ian padded across the hall and knocked on the door.

“Mickey?” He called again, putting his ear up to the door. “Are you okay?”

His only answer was a low groan, almost too soft to hear. His heart jumped up to his throat as he threw open the door, catching it just before it hit the wall.

Mickey was sitting on the floor in front of the toilet, legs spread, hunched over, and holding his head in his hands. There was a pile of tissues in front of him, all dirty. He was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, despite only wearing a pair of boxers and the house being kept at a cool 66°F. He didn’t turn or acknowledge Ian at all, causing a little jolt of worry to go through Ian’s chest.

He knelt down beside Mickey and placed his hand on his back, careful not to startle him. His skin was warm to the touch.

“What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

Mickey started to turn towards him, then paused and hunched over again, dry heaving. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead on the edge of the toilet and closed his eyes.

“Don’t feel good.” He muttered. “Somethin’ I ate.”

Ian scrunched his eyebrows together, worried. “I’m gonna get you some medicine.”

Mickey nodded, too exhausted to argue. He rubbed his hands up and down his legs, shivering violently as another wave of chills wracked his body. Shifting to lean over the toilet, he dry heaved again and coughed. Grabbing another tissue, he wiped at his eyes, which had begun watering again.

Ian made his way to the kitchen to get the pepto bismol and pedialyte. He dug through his EMS bag, tossing aside Advil, gauze, and a splint before finally finding the pepto bismol. The pedialyte was kept on top of the fridge for easy access. Then he headed back to the bathroom, grabbing an easily washable blanket on the way.

When he pushed open the bathroom door, Mickey was, once again, dry heaving. Ian paused for a minute to just look at him. With his damp hair plastered to his forehead, the way he was still shivering, and the clammy look to his skin, Mickey looked miserable. He still wasn’t acknowledging Ian’s presence, but Ian knew not to take it personally. Mickey rarely ever got sick, but he was a pain when he did.

Ian draped the blanket over Mickey, kneeling back down beside him. “I know it sounds dumb, but you’ll actually feel better if you can throw up.”

Mickey groaned. “Fuck, man.”

He sat there for a moment, then began heaving again. But this time he continued gagging, eventually leaning over the toilet and actually puking. Ian stayed next to him, gently stroking his hair as he continued to throw up.

When he was done, Ian handed him a tissue and stood up, wetting a washcloth and handing him that also. Mickey sat back on his heels and wiped his face, groaning. He accepted the pepto bismol Ian offered him, washing it down with the pedialyte. They were both silent.

“Do you feel any better?” Ian asked, using a second cool cloth to wipe the sweat off his body.

Mickey shivered again before answering, his voice hoarse. “Yeah. Thank you.”

Ian nodded and wrapped the blanket back around him. “Let’s get you back to bed then.”

He helped Mickey stand up, picking him up and carrying him when he saw Mickey’s legs shaking. He only gave a weak protest, giving in quickly and cuddling against Ian’s chest.

Ian closed the bedroom door behind them with a soft click. Dropping the blanket on the floor, he deposited Mickey gently on the bed, then climbed in after him. He pulled Mickey to him, pressing his cool chest against Mickey’s sweaty back and wrapping his arms around him. They lay like that, with Ian tracing soft patterns into Mickey’s hip, until he fell asleep. Ian turned his alarm off, nuzzling into the back of Mickey’s neck and slipping into sleep.

Job Benefits. ( Part Two)

undesirable

- chapter two.

you can find part one here : part one : new beginnings pairing : ceo! gojo x female reader warnings : cursing wordcount : 1145 a/n : this is just me procrastinating finishing my valentines day event and it’s not even good plsss I HATE THIS

         There is something utterly angelic, almost eerily beautiful about you to Gojo.       Elegance, formality. Even as his negligence towards his own work turned to affect yours, you didn’t quite give it another thought as the papers piled up on your already messy desk. Buried upon mountains and mountains of endless streams of text, he’s quite surprised you’re still sane.       Now, he had just learned that you were in-fact, not.       It’s not like Gojo is too intimidated by your capability, too being the keyword. But never had he met a woman that looked the other way when his eyes met theirs, he could definitely work with this.       He’s wondering all about you, entranced, under a spell you didn’t know you casted. What did he have to do to grab your attention, was that even possible?       “Are you even listening?” you ask, tapping your newly returned carrot pen against the table’s hand carved edges, leaning onto the fine artwork. Gojo clears his throat, looking at you with painfully sarcastic eyes.      “Sure I am. You’re a scary woman you know? Guys don’t like that.” he quirked an eyebrow, anticipating your response- limit testing as one might say.      “That has nothing to do with the topic at hand, sir.” you plainly respond, hiding your hurt under your quivering tone, were you not desirable? Was that a requirement having to do with secretaries now or some shit? Gojo lifts open the lid of his candy jar, plucking out a translucent green one. The jar reeked of artificial flavoring.       It’s only when Gojo starts bursting out with laughter that you straighten and shoot him a dirty look, swallowing back tears. Popping another candy into his mouth, it confused you in so many ways, it would take many millennia to recount why it confused you. Why was he laughing, was he laughing at you?     “Holy, (Y/N). Loosen up a little. Here, have a candy.” opening the can of candies once more, the revolting smell filled the room once again, and you swear you’re about to vomit.        Crossing your arms across your chest, you instead huff, turning your back on him as he handed you a translucent candy. You took this time to wipe your tears away, some already spilling down your cheeks.      How could you possibly loosen up right now?       You had to continue the ongoing line of professionalism, it could be a test set up by your employers to see if you would slack off or not, and you weren’t having it. Gojo laughs, and laughs, and laughs, as though he had heard the funniest joke in the world, and you turn to look at him again.      When he’s done laughing, you raise your chin, looking down at him, hands on your hips like a mother.     “Don’t look at me like that, (Y/N)-chan. You can barely look down on me even though I’m sitting. Aww, wait- are you about to cry?” he mused aloud, taking another long slurp of his coffee, smacking his lips together, humming.       You splutter, not knowing how to react to his rather ill-mannered comment, you preferred for a man to not judge your physical looks, and he was really starting to get on your nerves now. His tone felt so demeaning, it hurt.     Maybe if it was a different day, or maybe a different hour, you’d give him a pity giggle- perhaps as a way to make amends for the bad day. Maybe, just maybe, you were tired from such a long annoying day that you needed a good cry and that was enough to push you into actually doing it. You take one last look at him, tears beginning to dawn yet again at the corner of your eyes, and off you went back to your office, long confident strides.      “Ooooh! Struck a nerve didn’t I?” you hear him laugh even down the hallway through his still widely opened door, and you grit your teeth.      Gojo was like every other person you met, commenting on you being some boring person, no, that wasn’t you. You were resourceful and smart, good with communicating. Wasn’t that a good thing?       Was there any good quality about you, not pertaining to work? There sure were a lot of negatives one.      Off the top of your head, you were too stuck up. That’s how you found yourself more alone then not; and you were sensitive. Too many times had you leapt into your mother’s arm, sniffling, snot running down your nose about the bullies that had pelted you with insult after insult. This hadn’t changed as you grew older, instead of tackling your mom though, you found yourself punching your pillow as a coping mechanism. You didn’t find yourself particularly attractive, though. Any normal person with stable confidence would’ve laughed alongside Gojo Satoru, you were sure he didn’t mean ill.      But it still hurt.       You don’t even know why you’re crying, at the back of the bus as you came home from a long unenjoyable day from work, you dabbled at your cheeks with tissues, and sooner or later you knew you’d run out. Embarrassed as random individuals stared at you with annoyance evident on their face. You tried so desperately to hide your sniffling, but you just couldn’t.     Even as you inserted and twisted your key, revealing the interior you had been dreaming about and designing as early as 8 years old, the door swinging wide open into the first living space you had bought with your own money- you still felt miserable over one little comment.       “Men don’t like me?” echoed at the back of your head, replaying the word vomit slipping out of his mouth, so easygoing it was like he was talking to a friend away from the work setting. Even as you began to make your dinner, even as you turned the shower on, even as you did anything- it was still there.      Never mind that, why did his opinion matter so much to you? You were sure it was banter, almost 100% sure. It just felt weird to have your boss make fun of you. You’re not even completely sure if he was making fun of you, maybe you’re talking out of your own ass.       These were the thoughts that went rampant in your mind that night, but it’s not uncommon for you to overthink. To showering, to dinner, to slipping into the comforting warmth of your covers, you heard those stupid words whispered into your perked up ears over and over again.       Until, an idea that you’d normally jeer at occurs through the foggy mess that was your brain that night.      If you weren’t desirable to men, you’d test it out in the office, to see if it really was true. That would be telling enough to Gojo you’re easygoing and sexually appealing, you’d prove yourself to him- that you did have the good traits of a woman, even as a boring secretary.     And through the tears, you slept as soundly as you could that night, under many balled up tissues, waiting faithfully for the next day.

yo you made it to the end!  good on you, here’s part three!  broken routines

Sick Assist - Hockey RPF

Sid/Geno. 1.4k words.

Geno is sick and Sid brings him tissues and soup.

If you’re a non-fetish person who somehow comes across this, it might not be for you!  But again, this is pretty mild.

This is probably the most self-indulgent thing I’ve ever written, and I kind of love it. Enjoy!

“Geno?” The front door creaks open and Sid steps into the dimly-lit entryway of their house.

“Id here…” he hears the deep, congested reply from the living room.

“I got some stuff for you at the store.” Sid walks into the kitchen, setting the bags on the counter. He glances over at the couch. Geno’s head is peeking over the top of it, the tv playing quietly behind him.

“Whad you ged?” His eyes look tired and glassy, and his hair is sticking up all over the place. A result of lounging on the couch all day, probably.

“Let’s see…some orange juice, tea, cough drops…NyQuil, and,” he walks over to the back of the couch and places a box on top of it, right near Geno’s head. “Lots of tissues.” Geno grabs the box before it has time to topple off the couch.

“Ugh, thanggs Sid; you best.” He sniffs as he rips the top off the box, trying to keep his nose from running. His timing couldn’t have been better; just as he gets it open and is able to grab a couple tissues from the box, his breath starts hitching. “Huh…uh…ha-EEESSHH!” He buries his face into the small pile of tissues in his large hands, body curling forward with the effort. “Ughhhh…” He wipes his nose, throwing the wadded up tissues towards the small wastebasket he brought over specifically for this purpose. “I’m go through so bany today,” he says, pulling more from the box, “Id’s so-hah….so- eh-ccXXHHghh! …So bad.” He blows his nose, sinuses crackling as the pressure shifts.

“Jeez, is the other box gone already?” Sid walks around the couch to the coffee table, grabbing the empty box to get rid of it.

“Yeah, I use ahh- all.” He rubs his finger against his nose, hoping to quell the itch. “Can’t staaah- hah- can’t stop snee-RRSHHH-ahhh” he sneezes into his bare hands, caught off guard. “….sdeezing.” He looks at Sid over his steepled hands covering his face. He looks miserable.

“Aw, bud, you’ve had a rough day, huh?” Sid says, running a hand through Geno’s hair.

Geno looks up at him, disgruntled. “Don’t joke Sid. It suu-sucks!  All heh- all day I’m try to relax,” he reaches for more tissues, “stuck ond couch, can’t go to practice because- hiiXXRRSSHH!” he groans into the mess of tissues under his nose. “Face is exploding.” He takes a deep breath and gives a long, gurgling blow. “Just wand to stop.” He leans back on the couch, breathing through his mouth, dialing up the dramatics a bit for sympathy.  Sid’s eyes travel up his long body. He’s so cute in his hoodie and sweatpants, with his flushed face and pink nose. It’d be hard to deny him anything.

“Do you want some orange juice? Tea?” He takes his chances and darts out a hand to feel Geno’s forehead. Geno narrows his eyes at him, then swats Sid’s hand away after a moment.

“Fever was yesterday, Sid, all gone now.”

“Okay, fine. Just checking.” Sid starts heading back to the kitchen.

“And baybe…hhrrESSSHH! …sombe tea?”

Sid gives him a soft look. “Comin’ right up.” Sid putters around the kitchen for a bit, starting the electric kettle. “Are you hungry at all? You should probably eat something.”

“Hmm, a little hungry, yeah.”

“Good, because I stopped at that Apteka restaurant and got some borscht. Surprise?” He holds up the bag he had left on the counter, unopened. Geno turns back to him, shocked.

“Really, Sid? Yes! Sounds so good right now.” Sid smiles.

“Well, I’m sure it won’t be the same as your mom’s, but hopefully it’s pretty good. I’ll heat it up.”

“Thaaa-ahTTSSHH! Thagg you.” He wipes his nose then balls the tissues up, aiming for the wastebasket, cursing when it bounces off the rim.

“You’re picking those up; I’m not touching them.”

“Finddd. I will in a binute. You so picky.” He snuggles back down into his cocoon of blankets, turning back to the tv. Sid just rolls his eyes. He’ll give him a pass today. Once the tea is done and their soup is reheated, he brings everything out to the coffee table. He sits down next to Geno, who is splayed out on the sectional end of the couch.

“You need anything else?” he says, handing him his mug of tea.

“No, is perfect. Thanggs agaid.”

“No problem,” Sid says, bumping their shoulders together. Geno takes a sip of his tea and sighs. It feels amazing on his throat, which has basically been scraped raw from sneezing all day. He gets one more sip before the steam starts to tickle his nose. His breath starts to hitch as he tries to shove the mug into Sid’s hands without spilling it. Sid grabs it just in time to watch Geno turn away from him as best he can and aim two uncovered sneezes toward his other side. “ha-ESSSSHHH! Heh-ha-RSSSHHOO!”

“Gross, man.” Geno pulls two tissues from the box beside him, glaring at Sid as he blows his nose.

“You already sick before; why you worried?” He tries again to throw the tissues in the wastebasket, this time succeeding.

“I’m just saying,” says Sid with a shrug.

“Is your fault anyway.” He sniffs as if to emphasize his point.

“Hey, you know when someone on the team gets sick it’s just a matter of time before everyone has it.” Sid reaches for his soup and starts digging in. Geno grumbles but reaches for his bowl as well.

After a minute, Sid asks, “How is it? Does it pass the test?”

“Yes, very good Sid. Nod as good as mama’s, but nothigg is.” He takes another bite. “I think we go here again.” Sid smiles in response, happy his idea worked out. They finish eating, watching whatever Russian show Geno had on. At least he had the subtitles on so Sid could follow along somewhat. Geno was back to contentedly sipping his tea. Sid was grateful to lounge on the couch after a long day and a good meal. He looks at Geno, “You gonna go to bed early tonight? Get some sleep?”

Geno hums, “I don’t know…might watch another episode.” Sid eyes him. He looks sleepy already. As if to purposefully contradict him, Geno’s nose starts itching. He rubs at it with the back of his hand, trying to get it under control. “Ughhh…not agaid.” He leans his head back, as if entreating the heavens to make it stop. Unfortunately this has the added effect of him looking almost directly into a ceiling light, only making the situation worse. He breathes through his mouth, breath starting to hitch. Sid grabs some tissues quickly, placing them into Geno’s hand and leaning away. “Huh…eh…” Geno closes his eyes and lurches forward with the force of it. “HAH-ESSHH! huh-xxRRSSHH! Ah…hahhh…ha-XXCCHHH-uughhh.” He stills for a moment, catching his breath. Sid leans back in and rubs his back in long, soothing strokes.

“Ow,” Genos says pathetically.

“You okay?”

Geno clears his nose into the destroyed mass of tissues. “Oh by god, I just wand this over.”

“I know, bud.” Sid’s hand moves to the back of his neck, fingers running through the hair there. “You’ll feel better in a couple days.”

Geno sniffs, nose glowing pink, “Don’d want to wait days.”

“Maybe it’ll be less if you go upstairs and get some sleep,” says Sid, giving him a knowing look. Geno sighs and looks back at him with glassy eyes.

“Yeah, you right. I’m probably fall asleep during show anyway.” He sits there for a moment, reluctant to move. Then he shoves the blanket off his lap and heaves himself up, making his way over to pick up the tissues that had missed the basket, as promised. Sid turns off the tv and grabs the bowls to take to the kitchen, Geno following with his empty mug.

“I can take care of these,” Sid gestures to the dishes, “You head upstairs.”  Geno sets his mug on the counter and turns to envelope Sid in a big bear hug, shocking an “oof!” out of him.

“Love you,” Geno mumbles into his hair. Sid wraps his arms around him and presses his face into Geno’s neck.

“Love you too.” They stand there for a quiet moment, holding each other. Then Geno breaks away.

“Okay,” He leans toward the counter, grabbing the other box of tissues Sid had unpacked. “I’m take this with me.” He gives Sid a joking smile, tongue sticking out a bit. Sid just laughs at him.

“I’ll be up in a minute.” He watches Geno go. Once he’s disappeared up the stairs, Sid hears a distant, “hah-EESSHHOOO!” Sid shakes his head with a small exasperated laugh. Hopefully they’ll be able to get some sleep tonight.

different anon here but omg im so happy you made a kaeya/albedo drabble.. could you write up a pt 2 where kaeya catches his cold? doesnt have to be long, anything would do if youd be so kind

😭 anon... please, have mercy. Reversed roles are my absolute ~weakness~, so just this once, I am here to deliver a fic that I didn’t spend like 300 years writing. (Thanks for the excuse to write these two!!)

[part 1] 

—

A few days pass before he sees Kaeya again.

Albedo is only at the headquarters to ask Lisa if she has any books on the medicinal uses of Liyue specialties. The meeting is a coincidence, all things considered. Kaeya is leading a group of Knights—new recruits, Albedo thinks, because he’s pretty sure those are new faces—back into the main hall.

“Captain,” one of the recruits is saying. “I’m sorry about today. I’ll do better next time.”

“Struggling with training?” Kaeya asks. “I hope you weren’t hurt.”

“I wasn’t. I just… I should have been able to dodge. Back up in Starfell Valley, when that hilichurl fired. It wasn’t hidden or anything, but I didn’t notice.”

Kaeya shakes his head. “It’s a lot to think about, right? That’s one of the tricky things about fighting with a close-range weapon. It’s not a bad thing to pay attention to whomever you’re clashing swords with. Just don’t forget to keep an eye out for enemies that are further out.”

“Got it,” the recruit says, solemn.

“Your swordsmanship has improved, though.” Kaeya adds, “I can tell you practiced. The new sword suits you.”

The recruit brightens visibly. “Thanks a lot, Captain.”

It’s not surprising, really—Kaeya has a strange talent for saying the right thing at the right time. He’s patient, too, and good at strategizing; all things considered, Albedo can’t think of someone more qualified to be training the Knights.

But Albedo isn’t here to watch. It just looks like their group is about to adjourn, and he figures he should really thank Kaeya for his help a few days ago—Kaeya is a fast learner, and an even better conversation partner. Had it not been for him, Albedo knows he would’ve been up on Dragonspine for much longer.

Currently, Kaeya is turning to address the entire group. He still hasn’t noticed Albedo’s presence, it seems.

“Great work today,” He says, then launches into a speech about strategy. It’s not a notable incident—or, it shouldn’t be—except the more he talks, the more Albedo can tell how tired he is. It’s subtle. It’s Kaeya—of course it’s subtle. But his posture looks deceptively casual—really, it looks like it’s taking all of his energy to keep himself presentable—and mid-speech, he’s actually stifling a yawn. His voice sounds slightly off, too, perhaps from overuse.

They’re all busy, Albedo knows. But he feels guilty nonetheless. He knows it had been Kaeya’s decision to help him, but still—perhaps it hadn’t been the best choice, seeing how much he still has to do.

“Captain Kaeya,” one of the other recruits interjects, after Kaeya finishes his speech. Most of the other Knights have already started to leave. “If you are free later, could I stay late to train with you today?”

And Kaeya—

—Kaeya, for some reason, hesitates. He shuts his eyes for just a second, as if he’s at war with himself, before he opens them again. This time, his smile is a little less effortless, a little more strained. “Of course. I need to get some paperwork filled out first, but I’ll meet you after.”

“Alright, thanks! I’ll wait for you outside?”

“Sure. I won’t be long.”

The recruit—oblivious to the fact that something’s wrong—turns to head towards the exit. Kaeya sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, his eyebrows furrowed. He really looks exhausted.

Albedo wants to call out to him. He’ll say thanks, and then he’ll get out of Kaeya’s way. But then Kaeya starts off towards Jean’s office—to pick up paperwork, presumably—and stops halfway down the hall, tensing, one hand hovering over his face—

“hiiH… hiiH’ESSCH’ew!”

It sounds… rough, and tired, as if he’s been doing that all day. He sniffles, shivering, and continues walking, and Albedo knows.

He feels bad immediately. Kaeya had been kind enough to help out—of course he had, he’s selfless like that—even though he must have been busy. Meanwhile, Albedo hadn’t thought to tell him to sit further away, hadn’t been careful enough about not touching what he’d touched, hadn’t stepped away when Kaeya had insisted on walking back with him, hadn’t protested when Kaeya had lent him his scarf for the walk back through Dragonspine’s freezing weather…

...All things considered, this is most certainly Albedo’s fault.

—

“I got it, Jean,” Kaeya says, taking the pile of paperwork from her desk.

“Take it easy,” she says. “You should go straight home after this.”

Kaeya smiles tiredly at her. “Oh? I thought you didn’t want me slacking off. I can do more today, really.”

Jean rolls her eyes. “You look like you’re about to fall asleep standing. Please, for the love of Barbatos, get some rest.”

Kaeya can’t say he feels very differently than Jean says he looks. Still, even if Jean won’t ask him to stick around, the new recruits will—he likes them, but they’re still new to combat, which makes things harder on him. In between scouting domains, looking out for the younger knights, and trying to cover for the mistakes they make, perhaps he’s pushed himself just a bit.

“It’s just a cold,” he says, turning as far away from her as possible to cough into his elbow. “No one’s ever taken off work for a cold.”

“For now it is,” Jean says. “I don’t want it to turn into something worse because you won’t rest.”

“It won’t. It’s just paperwork, right? I could do that in my sleep.” And one-on-one training with a recruit. And after that, another meeting with the Knights, and a domain East of here to scout out on his own, but Jean can find out about that later when she’s reading his reports.

It’s very unfortunate that he has to sneeze.

He takes another step away from her, lifting his hand to cover.

“hiIH’EESCH’-ew!” he winces. The sneeze is loud, and it sounds almost as miserable as he feels, which means it feels far too transparent. “Hiih… hIIH… snf… hiiih’IiDDZScsh’ew! hIIIH’EZSCHh’-iu! ugh… snf…”

“Bless you,” Jean says, sighing as she passes him the tissue box on her desk. He takes a generous handful of them and before handing it back. “You sound awful.”

Kaeya laughs, pocketing the tissues. “You never fail to flatter me, Acting Grandmaster.”

“Forgive me for being worried,” Jean says flatly. “At least tell me you’ll take care of yourself.” “Of course. When do I not?”

She gives him a significant look, which is fair.

He takes the chance to leave her office. His head hurts, more than it would if he’d just had a bit too much to drink, and it’s the kind of headache that he knows is going to get much, much worse if he doesn’t take it easy. Maybe if he rushes, he can get the paperwork done before then.

The recruit he’d spoken to is waiting for him outside, he recalls. He rubs his nose, shivering, and heads for the door.

Someone is waiting for him, but it’s not the person he expects.

Kaeya musters the energy to smile. “Albedo! Did you need something?” He probably shouldn’t be taking on additional responsibilities after Jean’s already told him to take him easy, but then again, this is Albedo—whatever he needs, it must be  worth staying late for.

“I just happened to be stopping by,” Albedo starts. “I, err, wanted to ask Lisa about my research.”

“I take it that you didn’t find what you needed?”

“I did.” “Is that so?” Kaeya says, faltering—if that’s the case, he’s not sure why Albedo is still here. “Were you waiting for me, then?”

It’s supposed to be a joke, except Albedo hesitates, and Kaeya feels bad for suggesting it.

“Actually, I was,” Albedo says, which is a surprise.

Kaeya’s breath has gone unsteady again, and he rubs his nose, sniffling. Albedo, who seems not to have noticed, keeps talking.

“I wanted to tell you—”

Kaeya doesn’t want to interrupt, but colds tend to make his sneezes so jarringly unavoidable. He turns away, lifting up a hand to shield his face. “Hiiih… hiih’EESCHh’ew!” He gasps, and with a muffled sniffle, presses his hand closer to his face. “HIIH… hiiIH’IIZSCHH-uu! hIIIH’NGKT-Sshew! snf…!”

—His shoulders untense as he finally lowers his hand, fishing through his pocket for tissues. How embarrassing, he thinks, blowing his nose as softly as he can. He doesn’t exactly want to look over to Albedo to see the expression on his face—disgust, probably, or worse, pity—

“I’m sorry,” Albedo says instead.

Kaeya’s glance snaps upwards in surprise. “What?” “I was hoping you wouldn’t catch this,” he frowns, looking away. “I wasn’t careful enough. I did not intend for you to feel miserable because of me.”

What is that supposed to mean? “This isn’t because of you.”

“Captain,” Albedo starts, completely serious. “Whose cold do you think you have?”

Kaeya blinks. It’s true—he’s probably caught this from Albedo, given that he can’t think of anyone else who’s been sick lately—but that doesn’t mean that Albedo should feel guilty over it. “Colds spread. It happens, it’s not your fault.”

“I should have been more careful,” Albedo shakes his head dejectedly. “Or perhaps I should not have accepted your help at all when you offered to stay. I knew you must have had a lot of work. It was selfish of me.”

“I told you, I wanted to help,” Kaeya insists.

Albedo sighs. “You are selfless to the extent that it is detrimental sometimes.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I sent the recruit home, by the way. Really, you couldn’t have told him to wait a couple days?”

“He asked for my help.” Kaeya holds a hand up, veering away again. “I wasn’t going to deny him just because of… a… hiIH… c-cold… HIIih’EESSCHh’ew! HIIIH’GKTt!-shew!” His head throbs in protest, and he sniffles, tilting his head upwards, a fresh tissue in hand, in ticklish anticipation. “hiIIH… hiIIH’IIIZZSCH’ew!”

It takes everything in him not to slump against the wall.

“Bless you,” Albedo says. “You sound—”

“—awful?” He lowers the tissue with a laugh. “I know. Jean informed me.”

“I was going to say tired,” Albedo says, shifting forward to feel Kaeya’s forehead. His hand shifts to Kaeya’s cheek, studying him with a look of such intense concentration, Kaeya tries not to smile. “I don’t think you have a fever, but you’re warm. Allow me to walk you home?”

As enticing as the offer sounds, he shouldn’t. Everyone else is working hard—he knows if he does less work than usual, it will be Jean and Amber picking up the slack, which is the last thing he wants. “I still have lots to do.”

“It can wait until you’re well. The Knights will survive if you take a day off.” Albedo drops his hand, but he’s still looking at Kaeya with the same intensity. “I will talk to Jean, if it’s an issue.”

“Please don’t talk to Jean,” Kaeya says sheepishly. He’s sure she wouldn’t exactly be thrilled to find out about his plans to stay and work late.

Albedo raises an eyebrow. “Will you listen to me, then?”

Maybe it’s not such a bad idea, after all—he can head home, sleep this headache away, and come back in the evening. “Well,” he starts. “If… hiIIH… hiiIH’ESSCH’ew! snf-! If you insist…”

“I do.”

“...I guess I could head home early.”

It’s worth it, for the way Albedo smiles softly in response. He looks... relieved, Kaeya realizes, which is strange, too—he hadn’t expected Albedo to be so worried about him.

Kaeya starts off in the direction of his house. It’s not a long walk from the headquarters—certainly closer than the manor was, back when he’d lived there. Admittedly, it’s lonelier sometimes, living on his own.

Unexpectedly, Albedo follows him.

“You’re really walking me back,” Kaeya says, slightly disbelieving.

“Yes,” Albedo says. “Would you prefer if I didn’t?”

“It’s nice.” Kaeya sniffles, stifling a cough into a raised hand. “I hope you’re not just doing this because you feel bad about this.”

Albedo hums. “I’m not. I am quite free this afternoon, thanks to your help. I do feel bad, though.”

“Doing alchemy with you was the most exciting part of my week,” Kaeya says honestly, flashing him a grin. “I’d say it was worth catching a cold over.”

Albedo stares back at him. Then he smiles back, so brightly that Kaeya feels warmer, just looking at him. “You could come visit more often, then. I enjoy having company if it’s you.”

Snowy Sniffles

💡SPENCER REID X DEREK MORGAN💡

read on ao3

Summary: Derek gets the flu when he and Spencer are snowed in on a case in Colorado.

Word Count:  2k

Category: fluff, slight angst

Content Warnings: swearing, sickness, case details

A/N: enjoy my otp being cute and cuddly for my first day of 12 days of moreid :)

The snowy mountains of Colorado. A serial killer as cold as the air was out there, and It was the job of the BAU to catch him.

The team boarded their plane like normal, occasionally Derek coughed and cleared his throat. Not enough to realize what was happening, but enough to get a “You okay?” from JJ.

There weren’t many hiccups with local police, except for them withholding information about the victims. Derek and Spencer were sent to profile the dump site, JJ and Emily to interview victims' families, while Rossi and Hotch set up at the station.

The dump site was in a clearing next to a mountain frequently used for sledding. A visiting family from Texas was recommended the mountain by a friend and since they weren’t familiar with the area, the mom got lost and they came across the body. Thankfully the kids weren’t there to see it.

Spencer and Derek walked out of the black SUV and ducked under the police tape in their fleece jackets and large boots. 

“The victim was Hannah Gentry. She was a fourteen year old girl who ran away from her abusive father. No sign of sexual assault, but there were signs of restrains on her thighs and around her stomach.” Spencer walked around the area the body had previously been found, searching for anything left behind by the unsub.

“Maybe he thought he was saving these girls. How old were each of the victims?” Derek said, pulling tissues from jacket pocket.

“Ages ranged from 13 to 19. All had someone abusive close to them. You sure you’re okay?”

Before Derek could reply he was coughing and gagging into the torn kleenex in his hand.

“I’ll be fine,” The stuffiness in his nose was apparent in his voice now. “Let’s go back to the station. I’m sure Rossi and Hotch are at the M.E. now.”

The two walked back to the car and headed towards the police station. On the way it started snowing and Spencer said something about growing up in Vegas without snow, and how in Virginia they never really saw the snow fall, they just woke up to it on the ground and in the streets.

Between the snowfall rapidly increasing, the windshield wipers not doing anything to help, and Derek driving in an unfamiliar area, he began having a coughing fit and swerved off the road.

They didn’t get hurt in the accident, just a large rush of adrenaline, but the car wasn’t in the best shape. The engine made a sound that contorted Spencer’s face.

“We should probably check that.”

Derek tried to push his door open but he had driven into a ditch and snow was piled up tp his window. He rolled it down and shoveled some of the snow with his gloved hands. He got the door all the way open with a little wrestling of the handle. The boot of the car was opened and steam was rising from it. Spencer had crawled across the center console and got out from Derek’s side.

“Do you think we could get an officer to pick us up?” Derek sniffled.

“I think the snow is coming down too hard now.” Spencer’s black coat was powdered with snow that he didn’t bother to shake off, knowing it would be back there in an instant.

“I’ll call Hotch.” Derek fished his phone out of his pocket.

“You fell in a ditch? Morgan, this is a very time sensitive case. This guy kills every three days and it’s been the second day since the last body was found. We need you guys here.” Spencer overheard Hotch’s near yells over the phone.

“Okay, dad, calm down there. I’ll call up Garcia to find us the closest hotel and we’ll crash there. Reid says snowing too much for an officer to come pick us up.” It was around 7:30 and the sun was starting to set.

“Alright, we can send someone to get you tomorrow.” Hotch hung up and Derek called Penelope.

“Hey-llo my chocolate thunder! Anything I could do for you?”

Derek coughed a couple of times.

“You okay, Derek?”

“Yeah, uh, me and Reid got stuck in the snow and we can’t get back to the hotel. Are there any near us that we can crash at?”

“You’re in luck, Derek Morgan, There is a motel only a seven minute walk away from you. Anything else?”

“Not right now, baby girl, take care of yourself.”

“So what are we gonna do?” Spencer had begun chewing on his fingernails and pacing in a circle around the car.

“Kid,” Derek took Spencer’s cold hands into his warm, gloved ones. “Stop your worrying. I can see all of those gears in your head going a million miles an hour. Garcia found a motel near us and we can walk there and stay the night until someone can pick us up. We’ll be okay.”

“I know I’m gonna be okay, it’s you I’m worried about, Morgan.” Spencer took his hands out of Derek’s and leaned into the car to grab his bag.

“What do you mean? I’m fine.” As if on cue, Derek started having a coughing fit.

“I’m talking about that, Derek. You’re showing signs of getting the flu. Your heart rate has sped up by 39% in the last couple of days. You constantly have a running nose and you won’t stop coughing. I am not getting sick, I cannot afford to get sick, especially on a case, so I hope this motel has two beds.” Spencer pushed away from Derek and began walking.

“Wait!” Derek ran to catch up. “Pretty boy, you’ve already been with me for almost 24 hours. I think you are already infected. Besides, you, my friend, are shivering. Now let me give you one of my coats.”

Spencer slowed his walking and let Derek drape his second jacket over his thin, purple one. Having a crush on your coworker was the worst.

When the pair reached the motel the sun had fully set and they had snow covering their shoulders and resting on their heads. They brushed it off before entering, where they were bombarded with the overwhelming scent of perfume as what could only be presumed as the owner tugged them in with both of her arms. She was short and wore a sparkly pink dress not unlike one Penelope would wear.

“What can I do for you kind fellows today? Did ya crash on the side of the road? Lots of people did tonight. Can I get you a room? Was it your engine? Faulty car?” The woman rambled.

“Um, we fell in a ditch a little bit back. We just need two rooms for the night,” Spencer looked down at her nametag, “Sasha. Thank you.”

“Well, boys, I am sorry to disappoint but we only have one more room for the night. You’re just gonna have to share.”

“Are there at least two beds?” Spencer whined.

“Sorry,” Sasha took Derek’s credit card and punched in the numbers on a computer that looked almost a decade old. “You good there? You look like you could throw up any second?”

“I’m fine, ma’am. Just give us the room key please.” Derek cleared his throat.

“Alrighty, there you go FBI guys.” Sasha handed them the room key labed 7B.

Given the overwhelming personality that brought them in, neither had a chance to look around and profile the front office. When they got to the room they realized just how miserable the stay would be.

The heater seemed to be turned off resulting in the room being colder than the outside. Complementary water bottles on the nightstand had frozen, expanded, and exploded. The pipes in the walls creaked and whined. Derek moved towards the bed, which when he pulled up the sheets, they were stiff and barely moved at his touch. Spencer moved past the bed and to the kitchen, where he found a coffee machine and cups in the cupboard.

“What are you doing?” Derek coughed.

“Making coffee. It’s something to keep me warm.” Spencer still had Derek’s jacket across his shoulders.

“Alright well, you might be right. I think I’m starting to get a fever. I’m gonna hop in the shower. Hopefully it’s just the reverse air conditioning that’s broken.”

Derek’s observations were proven correct as he unexpectedly walked into the spray of a nearly boiling shower. His muscles relaxed as he began thinking about the events of the day. His nose ran more than it had in the cold weather and it reminded him of a moment in the office that happened some while ago, back when Spencer first joined the BAU.

It was a slow day in the bullpen. With Spencer being nearly fresh from college, Derek wasn’t expecting him to take the best care of himself, no one was. Derek looked up, ready to throw Spencer a rolled up note about how bored he was. Instead he was greeted with an empty desk. After asking Hotch where the boy genius was and getting a surprised ‘I don’t know’ in response, he went in search of him. Spencer was found laying on the couch in an empty office. HIs skin was red and burning to the touch. Derek gave him a couple of shakes and he woke up, groaning. Spencer had gotten the flu and didn’t know how to deal with it at work. Not wanting to disappoint Hotch by skipping a day for something so insignificant as a virus, he settled in an office he correctly assumed was vacant. He insisted that he was okay but Derek refused to believe him. He dropped Spencer off at his apartment and immediately knew. He was in love with Spencer Reid. And he wanted to spend as much time with him as possible.

When Derek was in the shower for at least 15 minutes Spencer presumed that the shower was warm, so he called Sasha at the front desk from the phone in the room. She wouldn’t be able to get someone to come fix it for another day. He sat on the bed, spreading his arms and legs out in an attempt to warm the sheets. Letting his mind wander, he started asking himself questions. Why did he like Derek? He was just his coworker. Just someone in his life. An attractive person in his life, but just like anyone else in his life. Did Derek know how much he meant to him? Would he ever know? Would he be given the chance to let Derek know that he loved him and wanted to spend his life with the other knowing?

He was taken out of his day dream when Derek came out of the bathroom. Derek was shaking. He wore thick, flannel sweatpants and a grey hoodie, along with his socks, not wanting to leave a single part of his body too exposed.

“Uh, I know you’re super germaphobic and probably want nothing to do with my running nose and sore throat right now, but kid, all of my muscles are aching. Do you mind if I-”

“Not at all.” Spencer wrapped his arms around Derek’s middle as he sank onto the bed.

Derek let out a sigh of relief and settled in Spencer’s arms. It wasn’t long until his breathing evened out and he fell asleep in the lanky man’s arms.

“I think I love you, Derek Morgan.” Spencer whispered.

The next day Hotch called Derek to let him know that they caught the unsub. He was an amateur child groomer who left a hair in his latest victims mouth. An officer picked up the pair from the motel and they boarded the jet. Derek’s flu passed as soon as it came and he was better in the morning. A little cuddling with Spencer was just what the doctor ordered.

“Hey, Spencer.” Derek sat across from him after everyone on the jet had fallen asleep.

“Yes, Derek?” Spencer noted the use of his first name in his head.

“We need to talk about last night.”

“What about it?”

“I heard you, Spencer.”

“Wh-what are you talking about? Heard me say what?”

“Spencer,” Derek put his hand on the other’s knee, “I love you too.”

In a panic, Spencer leaned forward and pecked Derek on the lips.

“I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” He stammered.

“It’s okay. We can do that if you want.” Derek leaned back in for a real kiss from Spencer. He still tasted like the cheap hotel coffee.

“We can do anything as long as we’re together.”

TAGLIST: @greenaway-lewis @pretty-b0yy @w0rmpi3 @sunflowrly @fuckshitupm8-deactivated3728 @the-sassy-one @endetit @adhd-lesbian @nobody121113​ @stalinthestripper​

A Medicated New Year

While on the run, Scully becomes ill as New Year's Eve approaches. Despite feeling terrible, she still wants to celebrate the holiday with Mulder.

I had not planned to write a New Year's story, but how can you ignore the muse when she stands in front of you and taps her foot impatiently, sending you ideas and waiting for you to write them down?

Hope you enjoy this bit of fluff.

December 31, 2002 Somewhere in Montana 11:15 p.m.

Mulder walked inside, shivering as he closed the door with his foot, his arms full of firewood. What had started as a simple task, for which he had not worn his coat, quickly became a “never do that again” moment. The snow had covered the stack of wood and while he had debated walking back to the house, he decided instead to push through.

Without a coat or gloves. Scully would be after him for that decision.

If she was awake, anyway.

Two weeks in the little cabin, two trips into the small town, and she had picked up a bug. Fever, cough, sore throat, body aches… she had it all. She had been in bed for two days, the medicine helping her sleep, the humidifier, he had driven to a larger town to find, running day and night.

Shivering again as he stacked the wood, the pile full enough for the next couple of days, he stood by the fire and warmed himself. The small television was on, showing Times Square and the people celebrating the quickly approaching new year, well for those not on the East Coast, knowing it had already come and gone in New York. He shook his head at the thought of freezing as he stood in such a large crowd, all to watch a giant ball drop.

But then, he smiled as he thought of New Year’s Eve in a hospital, watching the ball drop, bringing in the new millennium.

“Well, not exactly the millennium,” he said with a smile, glancing at the bedroom door, remembering Scully correctly stating that the new millennium did not officially start until 2001.

Shaking his head, he moved away from the fire, his body now warm and walked to the bedroom. Opening the door quietly, he heard her breathing, her mouth open, the blankets wrapped around her. Smiling again, he closed the door and went into the kitchen to make something to eat.

Deciding on toast and eggs, he scrambled them up quickly and ate them at the small two person table in the kitchen, reading the local paper. Getting up, he brought his dishes to the sink and turned on the water. Waiting for it to warm up, he placed a pot on the stove beside a can of chicken noodle soup for Scully if she were to wake up soon and want something to eat.

As he washed the dishes, he heard a cough and turned his head to see her standing behind him, the thick blanket wrapped around her. Hair messy, nose red, and mouth open to breathe better, she looked adorable, but he knew she would vehemently disagree if he said so out loud.

“What are you doing up?” he asked, rinsing his last dish and turning off the water. She coughed again and moaned.

He smiled and walked over to her, wrapping her in an embrace. She moaned again, her head on his chest. Even through the two shirts he wore, he could feel the heat she was emanating. Kissing the top of her head, he pulled back and looked at her.

“You’re hot.”

“Thank you,” she rasped, her eyes closed, mouth still open. Her breath was bad, but again he was smart enough to keep that comment to himself.

“You’re welcome,” he said with a chuckle. “Though that’s not what I meant.” He pressed his lips to her forehead and the heat was even greater. “I’m going to get the thermometer and the medicine. I’m sure you’re due for more.”

“Such a smooth talker,” she mumbled, her eyes opening slowly. She moaned again and sighed. He held his breath, her own truly awful.

“Come on. Let’s get you back to bed.” He started to guide her and she stopped him.

“No. I wanted to be here for the… the…” She gestured to the television and sighed again.

“The ball drop?”

“Hmm…” She nodded and closed her eyes again. “If that’s what it’s called.” He laughed softly and she whined with a cough.

“Okay, to the couch then. Come on.” He guided her over, helping her get situated before he went to get her some water, the medicines and the thermometer.

Bringing it all back to her, he put the thermometer into her mouth and opened the bottles of medicine. She kept her eyes closed as she waited for the temperature to register.

“One hundred… and two, almost three,” he said, taking it from her mouth and reading it. “That’s hot.”

“As you’ve already said,” she groaned, coughing and sighing deeply. He chuckled again and she opened her eyes. “I feel so terrible.”

“I know. Here take these.” He handed her some ibuprofen, and then some NyQuil. She took the pills and drank the liquid, making a face and reaching for the water he was ready to hand her.

“So disgusting,” she complained, shaking her head and taking another drink of water.

“How about this?” He held out a small candy cane and she smiled, taking it from him in exchange for her glass of water.

“I know. My breath is bad,” she said, opening the candy cane and putting it into her mouth.

“What? That’s not…” He shook his head and gave her what he hoped passed for an honest confused look.

“Mulder, I can taste it. I know it must smell just as bad.” She stared at him and he shrugged. “When you’re inevitably sick with this cold, I’ll be sure we still have a stock of candy canes on hand.”

“Good plan,” he said with a smile. She nodded and then groaned with a whine.

“Are you hungry? I could make you some soup…”

“No, just sit with me. Let’s bring in the new year together.” He nodded and picked up the stuff from the coffee table, grabbed a box of tissues, and joined her on the couch.

She laid down, wrapped in her blanket cocoon, her head on the pillow beside his leg. He ran his fingers through her hair as she sighed. Her head was so warm and he shook his head.

“How high of a temperature can you have before it would be necessary to go to the hospital?”

“Mulder, I’m fine, as long as the medicine is bringing it down. It’s just a cold.” She hummed as he scratched at her scalp and he smiled.

“I’m going to make sure to remind you of that.” She hummed again and they were both quiet, only the sounds of the television and the crackling fire filling the room.

“Have you ever wanted to go to Times Square...” She coughed and blew her nose with a tissue from the box he had placed on the floor. “For the holiday I mean? Not just in general.”

“Nah. I used to have a friend who lived close by there and every holiday he came back to his parents on the Vineyard to avoid the crowds of people.”

“Ohhh, poor guy forced to run to the Vineyard,” she scoffed with a groan. He laughed and nodded, moving his hand to her shoulder and rubbing her arm.

Quiet again, he thought she had fallen asleep, until he heard her crunching on the candy cane in her mouth. He smiled as she groaned loudly and sat up suddenly.

“God, I’m hot,” she said, unwrapping the blanket from around her and standing up unsteadily, kicking it off and laying back down.

“Better?”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, rubbing his shin and then tucking her hand under the pillow.

“You know, we don’t have to watch this. We could just go to bed.”

“Mmm,” she groaned in disagreement and he chuckled.

“Okay.”

“I mean, I ate that candy cane. In preparation for… for…” She yawned and coughed, moaning and whining.

“Come on, honey. Let’s go to bed.” He shut the television off and the room was lit mainly by the low burning fire.

“No… we only have ten minutes. I can…” She coughed, unable to stop until he helped her sit up and she worked at catching her breath. She looked at him, her expression miserable, and he smiled softly as he rubbed her back.“Fine, let’s go to bed.”

They stood up and he held her face in his hands, staring into her eyes.

“You feel cooler. That’s good.” She nodded and closed her eyes, holding onto his forearms. “It’s technically already the new year where we’re from, so…” She opened her eyes, glassy and medicated, and nodded again with a sigh.

“I’m tired.”

“I know. Happy early New Year.”

“Hmm. You too.”

He kissed her softly and she kissed him back, leaning into him heavily as they parted. He wrapped his arms around her and they swayed in place. She coughed and he smiled, putting an arm around her shoulders, he led her to the bedroom.

Coming back to the living room, he used the old ashes in the bucket from their last fire and put out the current one. He turned out the lights and picked up the blanket she discarded. Refilling her glass of water, he went back into the bedroom.

He set the glass on the bedside table, covered her with the blanket, and checked the humidifier. Refilling it, he got into bed beside her, and she snuggled closer, the hand on his chest clasping tightly to  a tissue. His watch beeped and he smiled.

“Yay, we made it,” she slurred and he held her tightly as he kissed the top of her head.

“We did. Now sleep, Scully.”

“Hmm,” she hummed and then coughed.

It was quiet as he rubbed her back and waited for her to fall asleep, hoping it would be soon so she could get some rest.

“The candy cane didn’t help much did it?” she mumbled, smacking her lips, and making disgusted noises. He laughed and nuzzled against her head.

“Not entirely.”

“Hmm,” she agreed, coughing and then blowing her nose. “Goodnight. Happy once more that the world didn’t end.”

“Me too,” he chuckled. “Sleep, honey.” She hummed again and was asleep within minutes.

When he woke up the next morning, his throat sore and body aching, she kissed his forehead and stumbled from the bed to get the medicine and a glass of water. Groaning as he took the medicine, they laid down and went back to sleep.

The new year was put on hold in that small cabin in Montana, as the humidifier hummed quietly in the corner, and heavy snow began to fall silently outside.

Detention (Part 1)

Summary: Mik may just have been her self-proclaimed bad girl that week and earned herself one of her three detentions. Little does she know that she might make a friend out of the illusive Rosé while stuck inside it. 

Or a story branching off of the dinner conversation in CH 1 of Backstage.

Author’s note: I had to write a sickfic and the idea of this was too perfect to pass by. Got a second part in the works – let me know how soon you want it.

Warnings: Swearing

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“What’s wrong with bad girls?” Mik asks.

“Oh please” Liv turns back to the table with a scoff. “You’ve had, like, three detentions. Rosé is raking up around thirty.”

“Thirty?” Mik murmurs in disbelief.

“The only time she didn’t earn a detention was that week when she got hit by the flu going around” Liv continues to exaggerate as if Mik hadn’t said anything. “But even then, she still had some outstanding.”

“I was in there that weekend” Mik adds in. “Poor thing coughed and sniffled the whole way through.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Mik normally didn’t argue with teachers – apart from when she got herself landed in here. But then she had just felt like being an arse. If she were to argue this time, it would be justified. Except for some reason she didn’t. Guessing that she wouldn’t win it in the end, so what was the point in trying?

Still, she couldn’t help feeling second-hand guilt seeing Rosé in the far corner although she had nothing to do with her being here.

“When you’ve finished your lines, there’s a list of tasks to do on the board” the teacher Mik didn’t know the name of instructed them. “I’ll be back in two hours to let you out” they concluded before they turned to leave, shutting the door behind them.

As if she didn’t have all the time in the world, Mik immediately stands from her chair and walks over to the front desk to grab a pen and a sheet of paper. Bringing it back to her desk she notes that Rosé hadn’t moved at all but doesn’t care enough to say anything about it.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I will respect my teachers; I will respect my teachers.

The messy scribbled lines fill half her page and already Mik feels like her hand will fall off. Dropping her pen for a second she stretches out her fingers and shakes off her wrist. As she’s about to pick up her pen again, a string of chesty coughs sound from the back of the room.

Not meaning to impose but strictly out of habit she turns around to see Rosé slouching in her chair. She looks horrible with her pale face partially covered by a black hood and still shivering beneath the extra layer of her usual leather jacket. It was no secret that most of the school had been taken out by the flu this season, but Mik hadn’t expected that Rosé would still be forced into detention with it.

As she looks back, the other girl’s eyes connect with hers and she fully expects her to glare at her and characteristically demand “what the hell are you looking at?” Instead, she sniffles into the back of a sleeve-covered hand, rasps out a pained sounding “sorry” before ducking back into her elbow to cough some more.

After Rosé looks up and clears her throat, Mik flashes her a quick sympathetic smile before turning back to her lines.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

When Mik has the last few lines to go she hears a chair squeak as Rosé pushes hers back and walks to the front of the room. She doesn’t look up as Rosé moves past her but her eyes do follow her toward the teacher’s cupboard next to the board.

It’s clear that Rosé’s been here plenty of times with how comfortable she seems opening the doors and riffling through the shelves until she finds what she’s looking for. Pulling out a box of tissues she places it on the front desk before grabbing a few to raise to her face.

“Hipt’chew” the stifled sneeze is nearly inaudible and completely not what Mik would have expected from the rebellious and confident girl with pink hair. Still, the force of trying to keep it silent bends her slightly at the waist and she straightens up blowing her nose softly.

It pains Mik how quiet she’s trying to be in the silent room, when Mik is the only other person and wouldn’t care.

With a congested sniffle Rosé throws the tissues away and picks up a piece of paper and a pen on the way back to her desk.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Mik has long finished her lines by the time she finally moves from her desk. She’d zoned out for about 10 minutes not immediately bothered to work through the list of tasks. Though eventually she brings her paper up to place on the front desk and walks over to the board.

Clean writing off of desks – too hard.

Remove staples from scrap paper – maybe.

Highlight important dates in the calendar – that’ll work.

Mik smiles as she picks up a range of neon highlighters and the calendar provided. Distracted by the prospect of making the calendar look pretty with the highlighters, she almost forgets to pick up the sheet with the important dates. Quickly snatching it off of the desk she moves over to her own and sets to work.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The sound of coughing starts out quietly, Rosé carefully muffling them into her arm and curling forward in an effort to restrain them. Though as the fit continues on, she loses that control and the coughs become louder and deeper within her chest.

Mik grimaces slightly as she turns around in her chair again, not able to help noticing how painful they sound. Her observation is only proven as she watches Rosé’s other hand move to the hollow of her chest as if it could hold her together. At last, when the fit dies down Rosé sighs out a breath as she leans her head down in her hands. Some of her pink hair spilling out from beneath her hood.

For a few moments Mik considers saying something. It would be pointless to ask if she’s all right because she obviously isn’t. And if she was to note how bad it sounded, how would Rosé reply, and even if she could how would Mik reply to that? So, with no lead in for a successful conversation in mind, she says nothing and turns back to highlighting dates in July.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

She got distracted again. After closing the calendar and placing it back on the teacher’s desk, Mik aimlessly began wandering around the front of the room. There wasn’t much to look at apart from a fire safety notice and a page on common language features, so eventually she went back to looking at the task list.

Remove staples from scrap paper – she could do that.

As she turns around to go over to the back of the room where the scrap paper bin is, her eyes catch on Rosé. Hearing her sniffle again like she has been doing all too frequently and seeing her leaning her head against a hand as she lazily writes her lines. Without thinking Mik grabs the box of tissues from beside her and makes her way over to Rosé’s desk.

At the sound of the box being placed down Rosé looks up at her and Mik flashes her a small smile.

Rosé does her best to return it, but she looks so tired that really only one corner of her mouth moves. “Thanks” she rasps out quietly.

“Not a problem” Mik says casually as she walks away over to the stash of scrap paper.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Oh, come on. Who needs three staples to hold pages together? Mik thinks to herself as she pulls them out of the corner. Brushing the staples over to the collecting pile she then places the now staple-free paper on the growing stack.

Leaning back in her chair she lets out a sigh, glancing at the clock which hasn’t seemed to move in half an hour. 55 minutes to go. How detention is only just over halfway through is beyond her and she thinks she’s going to go insane by the end of it.

As she sits straight again and gets back to work, Rosé pushes her chair out and comes over to the desk next to her, carrying the box of tissues with her. After placing the box down ahead of her, she sits down in the chair before scooting it further away from Mik.

At the other girl’s presence Mik smiles slightly at her, finding it saddeningly sweet that she’s trying to keep her distance.

Rosé clears her throat quietly as she reaches for a stack of stappled papers and pulls it over to her. As she sits back again, Mik offers her a staple remover but she shakes her head in dismissal before prying the teeth apart using her nails with a practiced ease.

Despite being weighed down by the flu, Rosé works quickly, easily catching up to the work that Mik had done in ten minutes in five. Nearing the end of the final pile, Rosé draws in a breath before pushing her chair back further and turning away from Mik.

“Huh’ukshhu, ‘akshhh” she muffles into an arm before sniffling heavily.

As she turns back Mik pushes the box of tissues closer to her and she takes a few before blowing her nose miserably. With another forceful sniffle and then a sigh, she gets up from the chair to throw the tissues away and then brings the bin back over to the desk.

“What are you even doing here?” Mik finally speaks after Rosé sits back down.

“Don’t have much choice” Rosé says simply before clearing her throat against the poor quality of her voice.

Mik inaudibly winces before she says in disbelief, “surely someone would let you off.”

Rosé shrugs, looking like it takes a considerable amount of effort. “When you’ve had as many detentions as I have, they’d probably think I’m faking” she pauses to sniffle into the back of her wrist. “Didn’t think it was worth asking.”

“Gorge, this may be a school for the performing arts, but no one will think you’re faking” Mik scoffs.

“I – oh, fuck” Rosé cuts herself off with a shaky exhale as she reaches for another tissue. “Huh’ushew, uh’ishew, uh’isshew” her body crumples forward with desperate sneezes leading way to another nose blow.

“How did you even get out of bed this morning?” Mik asks, her face showing genuine worry.

“Easy” Rosé says as she throws the tissues away. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Have you been like this all week?”

“Mm” Rosé’s hum of confirmation gives way to a cough behind closed lips before she forcefully swallows the rest of them back. “I am so sorry if I get you sick by the way.”

“Don’t worry about it” Mik dismisses. “I’m up to date on my flu shot.”

“If you wanna go back to your room, when the teacher comes back, I can make the excuse for you” Mik offers after a brief silence.

Rosé shakes her head. “Thanks for the offer but if I don’t finish this, I’ll just have to repeat it.”

Mik nods her head in understanding. “Why don’t you try and get some sleep?”

“Task list” is all Rosé says as she nods to the board.

“I’ll do the last one, it’s just cleaning the desks.”

“That’s a hard one, I’ll help” Rosé tries to insist but Mik won’t allow it.

“Angel, this thing is kicking your arse, and that’s punishment for you enough.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Mik doesn’t know how well Rosé sleeps, if at all. Lying across the desk with her head in her arms, occasionally shifting to cover a couple of coughs into her shoulder. Still Mik is true to her word and lets her rest while she cleans the desks – aside from Rosé’s, she’s not going to bother her. By the end of it her wrists and shoulders are tired, she’s chipped her nail polish and broken at least one nail.

She sighs in relief, turning around to see the clock. Five minutes left. Her lips turn up in a smile at the close prospect of freedom, she can’t wait to get out of this room and frolic on the field for all she cares. She almost laughs at the thought of her running before her attention falls back on Rosé.

She should probably get her up.

“Rosé?” she says cautiously, having no idea how the girl will react to being woken up. Figuring that a gentle approach is the least likely to go wrong, she places a careful hand on Rosé’s shoulder as she steps up beside her. “Rosé?”

Her touch seems to do the trick and Rosé inhales a deep breath as she wakes up, pushing herself to sit up off the desk. She blinks a few times to get her bearings before her eyes focus on Mik and she settles into her surroundings.

“We’ve got about four minutes until the teacher comes back” Mik says when she sees Rosé’s eyes snap back to clarity. “Thought I’d get you up.”

“Thanks” Rosé says before rubbing a hand over her face to wake up more.

After her arm drops, she stands and takes the cleaning supplies from Mik’s hands.

“Don’t be silly, I can do your desk” Mik offers as Rosé goes about spritzing the desk top, not knowing why she let go of the supplies in the first place.

“I can’t hear you” Rosé pretends as she wipes the liquid off.

“I’m serious” Mik almost whines with a smile on her face.

“Doesn’t matter, it’s done” Rosé says as she pulls the cloth from the desk. “Plus, I breathed on it” Rosé adds as she goes to put the cleaning supplies back on the teacher’s desk.

“If you’re so worried about infecting me, why did you even show up?”

“To be honest I didn’t think anyone else would be here” Rosé shrugs. “It’s normally just me. And I’m sorry again if I” – she gets cut off.

“If you get me sick, I know” Mik says. “Like I said, don’t worry about it.”

“You know flu shots don’t always work?” Rosé checks as she sits back at the desk.

“Jesus, girl! Don’t tell me that. You’ll jinx it!” Mik jokes before breaking into a laugh.

Rosé laughs as well before it morphs into coughing.

“What are you going to do after this?” Mik asks, sensing the mood for joking is over.

“Dunno” Rosé shrugs.

“Have you been to the nurse?” Mik asks, sitting down at the desk next to her.

Rosé hums with a nod of her head. “Not much they can do.”

“Do you think you should go back? If you’ve been like this all week, that’s pretty bad.”

“It’ll be fine. It’s the weekend, no classes just sleep it off.”

Mik’s expression changes but before she can argue with her logic, the door opens signalling that their detention is over and the teacher releases them to freedom.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Mik practically bounces out the door before she slows down in the hallway waiting for Rosé to follow her out of the classroom.

“It’s lunchtime, do you want to go get some?” she turns around to ask her.

“You go ahead” Rosé shakes her head. “I’m just going to head back to my room.”

“You want me to walk you there?” Mik offers, her excitement vanishing for the moment.

Rosé flashes her a small smile. “Nah, get to lunch before the good stuff is gone.”

“If you’re sure?”

Rosé nods to her. “I’ll see you around” she says before turning off in the opposite direction.

“Okay” Mik chirps as she continues to the dining hall. When she’s walked about another few steps away, she suddenly turns around, remembering something. “Hope you feel better Rosé” she calls out but the girl is already gone, leaving her in an empty hallway.

Part 2