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whats-k-popping · 2 years

Note

Hey I have a request💜

Jungkook with a bad and sneezy cold and fever, he become sad and cry a little bit, while the members take care of him making him soup and clean his nose for him. I would like Jungkook with stuck sneezes and cant sneeze so the members make him sneeze to help him in many ways.

Ps: Im italian so english isn't my native language Im sorry😅

Grazie per la richiesta! 💜💜 Mie piaciuto scrivere questo!

Sono felice che ti piaccia i il mio lavoro da un altro paese. (Il mio italiano non e buono. Non lo uso piu molto. Scusa!)

Pairing: OT7 - platonic intentions but ship how you want.

Words: 2684

Warnings: Graphic Descriptions of Cold Symptoms || Illness || Snz Content || Congestion || Graphic Descriptions of Snot || Induced Snz Content || Sick Member || Snzing on Members

See Also: @sneezyminniejo did a very similar fic recently to nearly the same request. It can be found here. They also did such a good job with it and it's such a pleasure to read! Please make sure to read that fic as well! <3

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Jungkook's been fighting a cold for three days. It’s a brutal battle; there are empty blister packs and crumpled up tissues strewn about as evidence that Jungkook’s holding his own. But when he wakes on day four, it seems the cold is coming out on top. The combined efforts of cold medicine and nasal spray prove useless. He can't breathe at all though his nose, and he's hacking merciless coughs that tear through his chest. In these minutes of misery, he believes being mauled by a bear would hurt less.

He stands in the bathroom white knuckling the edge of the sink. After a round of wet coughs, he spits the phlegmy remains down the drain and sniffles harshly. But nothing moves in his sinuses. It's an impenetrable wall of snot. He tries forcing air in, he tries forcing air out. It's all ineffective. He whimpers pitifully, splashing warm water over his face hoping that might help. Still, nothing changes. He momentarily contemplates using that neti pot that Namjoon swears by.

The six members can hear Jungkook hitching and sniffling heavily from the bathroom. But they give him space. Jungkook was adamant from day one that "it's not a big deal" and “It’s just a small cold” and the ever so mature "I can take care of myself." So they wait. They agreed to let Jungkook come to them, when he needs it. They try not to coddle him too much, unless that's what he wants. So they are seated around the table, breakfast served, listening to Jungkook lose another battle with his nose.

It goes on for a while and Jungkook's not coming down to eat. Seokjin cracks and stands from the table. Hoseok immediately interjects, "He said he doesn't want any help."

"And I'm not going to help him," the elder answers nonchalantly, "I'm just feeling a little warm." He casually goes over to the home thermostat and lowers the temperature a few degrees. There’s a mischievous look in his eyes as he presses the down arrow repeatedly. The other members seem to understand what their hyung is up to. They nod collectively around the table, Seokjin retaking his seat. They don't need to speak about it, everyone already knows there’s a plan.

There's another round of painful sounding coughs followed by throat clearing and spitting. Then they finally hear footsteps walking toward the staircase. Seconds later, Jungkook joins them at the table. His food has already gone cold.

"Bornin, hyunds" Jungkook greets, pushing the plate aside and resting his head on the table. Maybe if he hits his head hard enough against the table, the snot clogging his sinuses will finally shift. It's a fleeting thought, and he ultimately decides not to act on it. Instead, he just sniffles thickly again.

"Still got that cold, JK?" Jimin asks, hoping maybe Jungkook would admit that he's feeling bad. They don't have anything to do today, so what's the harm in seeking a little attention?

"Yeah," he sniffles thickly as if to prove his point. "I dink id's gettig wordse. Id anyone else cold?" His teeth are chattering as he wraps his arms around his upper body.

Sure, they know Seokjin lowered the temperature a few degrees in the dorms. But Jungkook makes it seem like he's sitting in a winter storm without a coat. There's several replies around the table that all convince Jungkook he's alone in feeling cold. He kind of suspected that was the case.

Hoseok leans over uninvited and presses a hand to the maknae's forehead. Surprisingly Jungkook doesn't pull away; instead, he leans further into Hoseok's touch basking in the memory of what warmth feels like.

"Aigoo, you feel a bit warm, bun." The dancer announces to the table. Jungkook groans in response to the news. Instead of pulling his hand away, Hoseok uses it to stroke gently down Jungkook's cheek as a comforting gesture.

Jungkook melts at the touch. It's just the simple comfort he's been denying himself for the past three days. The same comfort he's been craving, but has been too ashamed to ask for. But now he's feverish and stuffy and miserable. And he just wants to be cuddled.

"Hyunds," the maknae's eyes begin to water as he looks at them. He can sense their pity. He knows they won't be mad. "I deally don'd beel good."

Jimin stands from his seat and wraps his arms around the sick maknae, pressing a long kiss to the crown of his head. No one else moves, they don't want to smother him. Besides, Jimin is the best when it comes to physical comfort. "That's okay, Jungkookie. Hyungs are here to take care of you." He reassures, wiping fallen tears off his fellow vocalist's flushed cheeks.

Despite Jimin’s soft tones and gentle touches, Jungkook breaks down into hysterical sobs. He knows he’s been a jerk to his hyung for days and they didn’t say anything to him about it. He feels bad, physically and emotionally. And he can’t help but think that maybe if he would have let his hyungs help days ago, he wouldn’t be feeling so badly now. “Hyunds, I’b dorry. I’b do dorry.” He repeats through broken, hiccuping sobs.

Jimin repositions so he’s sitting on Jungkook’s lap. He pulls the maknae in and buries his face into his own shoulder, petting his damp hair slightly. He doesn’t care about the mess it will make. He just wants for Jungkook to calm down. It hurts his heart to hear Jungkook wail like this. Jimin’s whispering sweet nothing and reassurances into Jungkook’s ears so quietly not even Hoseok, who is seated beside them, can hear.

As Jungkook starts to finally calm down, Jimin makes subtle gestures to the other members. He’s got Jungkook for now. But they’re going to need a team effort if they want Jungkook to be effectively taken care of. So the table disperses to various areas of the house. Jungkook doesn’t even hear them leave.

When he looks up, Jimin’s holding a napkin toward him encouraging him to blow his nose. Jimin doesn’t let go of the napkin, and when Jungkook turns away Jimin’s hand follows. Eventually, Jimin just cups the napkin around Jungkook’s nose and squeezes. The napkin fills, now sticky and wet against Jimin’s fingertips. But there’s room for more. And from the sound of Jungkook’s sniffling, there’s definitely more. “Good, now blow for real this time,” Jimin commands in a low assertive voice. It’s eerily close to Yoongi’s tone. Jungkook doesn’t mess around when Jimin deepens his voice. He knows it means he’s serious. Jungkook blows hard, relieved that crying had loosened his sinuses. He files it away as a quick fix should he feel stuffed up again.

Jimin pulls the napkin away, wiping at any left over on or around Jungkook’s nose. He puts the napkin on Jungkook’s untouched plate of food and goes back to coddling. Jungkook’s on Jimin’s shoulder again, the one that’s not soiled with tears and snot, and Jimin’s rocking them from side to side. It’s a peaceful few minutes of comfort. Then Jungkook’s breath hitches and he scrunches up his nose. “Hhe- EHet-” He anticipates a sneeze and points his face away from Jimin. But he loses it as soon as it snuck up on him. “Ghuh” He sniffles and shakes his head, trying to will the sneeze back. The need is still there. Less urgent, but it will happen sooner or later. He prefers sooner.

Jimin chuckles at the disappointed and determined look on Jungkook’s face. He knows how annoying it can be to feel a sneeze that’s not ready to come out yet. “Ah, Kook-ah, let hyung help you.” Jimin pulls Jungkook’s face back, brushing longer strands of hair against the edged of Jungkook’s nostrils. The thin strands tickle at Jungkook’s nose. And the residual chemical smell of hair dye from Jimin’s new color is strong enough for Jungkook to sense. The combination does wonders for Jungkook’s stuck sneeze.

It’s a matter of seconds before Jungkook’s hitching and pitching with a flurry of sneezes. “Eh-NgtCHI, Heh-PFTIchu, HEI-gnxtch” He tried to turn away, but Jimin kept him tucked in. The sneezes sprayed against Jimin’s neck, some of the dampness getting in the short vocalist's hair. But Jimin doesn’t flinch or cringe. He doesn’t pull away.

Jimin waits patiently for the fit to end and then looks at Jungkook’s face. His eyes are red rimmed, nose dripping with fresh snot that he tries to sniffle back. There’s a small pout on his lips. And the maknae’s breathing is labored, like the force of the sneezing took his breath away. He smooths over Jungkook’s hair. “Feel better?” he asks softly, reaching around the table for an unused napkin. He wishes they were closer to a box of tissues.

“A biddle,” Jungkook replies, already wiping the drippage on the back of his sleeve in the interest of time. “I wadda sleeb,” he admits.

Jimin chuckles. “Okay, baby. The couch should be all set up for you now.” He leaps off Jimin’s lap and offers the maknae a hand. Jungkook accepts the hand and allows Jimin to guide him to the living room. Like Jimin alluded to, his personal bedding is set up on the couch. It’s clear now Jimin’s affections were meant to bide time.

Jungkook makes himself comfortable on the pillow that’s leaned up against Hoseok’s lap. He knows Hoseok is a bit of a germaphobe, but he can’t resist getting as close to the dancer as possible. He assumes it’s okay when Hoseok coos and starts rubbing Jungkook’s arms over the blanket.

Before he gets too comfortable, Seokjin and Yoongi emerge from the kitchen. Seokjin’s holding a steaming bowl and Yoongi’s got a small pharmacy in his arms. “You’ve gotta eat something before sleeping, JK.” Seokjin advises, “And take some medicine.”

“Bill you feed be?” Jungkook asks in a small voice as he sits himself up. He continues to lean against Hoseok. Seokjin isn’t going to say no to such a precious request. He sits on the floor in front of Jungkook and spoon feeds him. Jungkook eats half the bowl before he says he’s full. Jungkook’s not usually the type to get full, especially on less than one serving; but Seokjin doesn’t argue it. When Seokjin steps away, Yoongi approaches with blister packs of cold medicine.

“Do you want daytime or nighttime?” Yoongi asks before he opens anything.

“Night,” Jungkook pleads. He just wants to be asleep. Yoongi pops the pills and hands them to Jungkook. While the maknae works to dry swallow those, he’s pouring a dose of cough medicine which Jungkook takes with only a few complaints. “Cab I dleeb now?” He’s still making a sour face from the taste of cough syrup. Yoongi smooths a fever patch into his forehead.

Yoongi nods and settles nearby. One by one all the members come to rest around the couch. There’s a movie playing in the background but no one can give it much attention. With Jungkook’s constant thick sniffling and wet coughing, everyone’s attention is on the sick maknae.

“Are you sure you don’t want to try the neti pot?” Namjoon offers, as is standard everytime one of the members has a cold. The answer is always a resounding no, but he’ll make the suggestion until the day he dies. In line with the tradition, Jungkook cringes at the mention. He’s terrified that he’d drown or his brain would fill with water. It’s not logical, but neither is pouring water up your nose.

“What if we make you sneeze?” Taehyung suggests mischievously. There’s a silence among the members. Taehyung feels judged for even suggesting it, so he elaborates, “If you sneeze, you might clear up your sinuses. And finally be able to sleep.”

Jungkook’s entranced by the idea of sleep. He’s beyond drowsy and sapped of energy since he took the night med. He’d be asleep if it weren’t for the heaviness in his chest and head. His only reservation is that he doesn’t think he has the stamina to sneeze. Each one rips out of him with such force. He doesn’t have the energy for that. But he’s willing to try. “Led’s try id.” He admits.

Taehyung’s up and out of the room at light speed. He doesn’t tell anyone what he’s planning. The other members look around and try to come up with ways to make Jungkook sneeze. Jimin stays silent. He’d already been sneezed on today, he feels it’s someone else’s turn. Seokjin makes the first move. He blows in Jungkook’s face, a slow stream of air directed toward the top of Jungkook’s nose. It makes the maknae’s nose twitch. He hitches once. But nothing productive.

Namjoon instructs Jungkook to look at the light, hoping that might trigger something. But the cool lighting of the dorm isn’t bright enough to trigger a reaction. Still his nose itches and he scrubs at it. Hoseok grabs a candle sitting on the side table. But when he looks at it, he notices it’s unscented. Of course all the candles are unscented. Scented candles make Jungkook sneeze. So they don’t keep them in the dorm. Yoongi shrugs and jams a finger under Jungkook’s nose.

“Hyung, that’s how you stop a sneeze,” Jimin remarks with a chuckle.

Yoongi stutters embarrassed, “Ya, maybe it works both ways. You never know.” Jimin raises his hands in surrender. Yoongi’s finger doesn’t have any effect on Jungkook’s stuck sneezes. He hitches again gasping for air, desperate to relieve the tickle in his nose.

Taehyung runs back into the room with a shaggy throw pillow in hand. He shoves the pillow against Jungkook’s face. The surrounding members can clearly smell the strong cologne that Taehyung wears to award ceremonies. It smells as though he dipped the whole pillow into the bottle.

Jungkook inhales a heavy dose of the cologne and is immediately thrown into a sneezing fit. “hep’tehCHU, hmf’NXTchi, he-eh'HXTt, HA’tichu, hpti’atCHI, HXTngt, Hi’TISHuu” He sneezes relentlessly into what he knows if Taehyung’s favorite snuggle pillow. Each sneeze is louder and messier than the next. They are hard on his throat and they hurt in his nose, but it’s working. He can feel mucus shift with each sneeze. He can tell just from the stickiness alone that the pillow is now covered in his snot.

He wants to pull it away. The heavy scent of the cologne is still attacking his nose. But he doesn’t want the others to see the mess he’s made. After 13 harsh sneezes, Namjoon rips the pillow away and tosses it onto the reclining chair in the corner. “Alright, Jungkook. I think that’s enough.” He tries to keep it lighthearted, but he’s seriously concerned about Jungkook’s vocal cords after all the sneezing.

Jungkook’s left with nothing to hide his messy face. There’s snot glistening his skin all the way down to his chin. He hastily rubs the sleeves of his sweater against his face to clean himself. He’s tearing up at the same time, embarrassed. Seokjin’s got a box of tissues in his hands. He grabs three and approaches the maknae.

“Jungkook-ah. Don’t use your sweater. That’s not clean.” His voice is calm and sweet. “Here, hyung has tissues for you.”

Jungkook grabs them hastily and finishes cleaning up. He throws the balled up tissues on the same chair as the pillow. He figures they should keep all of his mess together. “More, please.” Jungkook asks, his voice a lot clearer than it has been all day. Seokjin just passes the whole box.

Jungkook blows his nose loudly three more times before he finally feels empty. Or emptier, at least. He’s now able to breathe better through one nostril and his head feels less heavy. And as expected, the sneezing fit wore him to bits. He finally feels like he can sleep. He nestles back in against Hoseok who accepts him with open arms.

Taehyung smiles, reclaiming his previous seat. “Sleep well, Jungkookie.” He rubs the maknae’s calf.

Still no one can focus on the movie over the sounds of Jungkook’s congested snores.

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A/N: As always, thanks for reading to the end! Feedback is always appreciated. And please let me know if I missed any tags or TWs. Please call me out for any errors you notice!

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undercover-horn-blog · 5 months

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Honestly, sneezing and swearing is so chef's kiss!! 👌

"Fuck, I... hhh'tCHH!"

"hhh'ISHH'oo! Goddammit."

"heh'kchh! Hhh'ishh! Hh'cheww!! Fucking hell, man."

"Shit, sorry, I... HuhCHIEE!"

"hnn'ishhh! Ah, God, this bloody cold, I swear."

Hnnnggg <3

#snz #snzblr #snz kink #snz thoughts #tw swearing

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dampsleeves · 1 month

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my hungry ass could never be locked in a room with mothman

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hockeynoses · 6 months

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“If I’b dnot careful I’b goddaaa – haaah… I’b godda gedt everyeeehh - hih’GGKSSHH’IUE! Ughhh, I’b godda ged everyond sigg.”

#snzblr #snz prompts #snzfic #tw: contagion #cw: contagion #sorry I can't stop... I've literally been so horned up this week 😩

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temporarilyunspokensneezes · 2 months

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Horny contagion thoughts

Someone who only cares about not making a mess because it's embarrassing, not because they're worried about spreading their cold. So in large groups they pinch off their sneezes, duck away to cough if they really can't keep it in. But around those one or two people who they feel comfortable around, they sneeze freely, cough openly even when facing the person and without covering. They'll grab a tissue while building up but use it post-sneeze to wipe away the mess on the back of their hand, never even considering that they could just sneeze into the tissue to begin with. Contagion is simply something that doesn't even cross their mind to worry about. Sick or not.

#snz #snz kink #contagion tw #inspired by my friend thats always sneezing #literally was in the middle of a cold and coughed right at me #it was an amusing mix of “this is hot” and “they literally just did that without acknowledging or apologizing #“should i be offended lol?”#i was not #but im also biased and gay/smitten so the jurys still out

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aliasnz · 5 months

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the sluttiest thing a man can do is lift his collar over his nose to sneeze all over his bare chest

#snz #snz kink #snez #snez kink #snz musings #snez musings #aliasnz's #mess tw #tw mess

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zensations35 · 6 months

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King of Madness

Soooo, I knocked this thing out in like 48 hours. Because when inspiration strikes, nothing makes sense. This is an Orestes fic based on Greek mythology retellings. It's a different style than I normally write, but I did it this way to keep it loyal to the source material. I also wrote it specifically to be read as an audio fic, so, enjoy that! A little background: The furies are causing Orestes to hallucinate and Menelaus is trying to catch him acting mad so he can take over Orestes’ kingdom. It’s all very political and petty. Ok! Enjoy!

Pylades sweeps into the room, cloak whirling around his feet as he dips so quickly he cracks his knee on the smooth floor of the bedchamber.

“My King,” his voice is firm, respectful. Only slightly pitched with worry.

Orestes reclines--slumps really--against the headboard of the carved wooden cradle of the bed. He looks much worse than Pylades last saw him. Dark curls damp his brow, his visible flesh shiny and scented with the gleam of oils and sweat from his mental decline.

“Did…” Orestes chokes on the word, his lips dry, breaths hot like baked earth. “Did you bring it?”

Pylades pulls out a wooden box, gold filigree carved in the sides and woven in floral patterns.

“Yes, My King, but I know not why.”

Orestes shifts to sit upright and winces. His head spins and he swears he catches the sight of a sinister shadow just out of his field of vision.

“Open the box,” he says. “Dab the oil on your wrist.”

Pylades is dying to ask more, but he obeys. Even he concedes to Mycenae’s ruler.

The bottle of oil in the box is a voluptuous glass with amber liquid inside. He does what he is told and spreads a dollop around his wrist.

The odor is pungent, the sweet earthy scent of flowers permeating the air.

Orestes drinks in a liquid sniff. “Yes--that is the one.”

Pylades’s brow furrows. “Is this…the scent you react to?”

“It is.”

“My King, my Lord…why?”

Another sniff, this one punctured by a swift intake of breath. Orestes nose tips skyward and his lower lip quivers. Then his chest deflates with a sigh. He brings up a hand to whisk under his twitching nose.

“Menelaus comes for me. We must convince him my fevers are illness, not madness.”

“And you wish me to…”

Orestes presses the circle of his fingers into Pylades’ wrist. “You must aggravate my symptoms from the oil. But do not let my Uncle know what causes it. We must be--”

Orestes shivers, his breaths slick with panic. His eyes catch the sight of something above him, but he dares not look. “I-I'm not…” he cinches his lids, curling into himself and shuddering. He can hear them--the furies--cackling in the rafters, screeching.

Orestes smothers his face in his palms, muffling his mania. “I c-can't! I…I see them! I see--!” His voice pitches into hysteria and Pylades moves closer.

“My Lord, Orestes,” he breathes, steadying his voice, guiding his King back to the realm of reality. “You are here. You are safe. You are in Ithaca. You are safe!”

Orestes blinks shadows from his eyes and seals his lips. A beat of his heart, and then he sighs. “I…yes. I am…”

A bull of a knock makes both men flick eyes to the door.

“Nephew?”

Heart thudding in his neck, Orestes’ grip tightens on Pylades’ arm and he wrenches his wrist close, dipping his nose into the heartbeat of his skin. He inhales.

“Nephew? I--”

Orestes doesn’t hear the rest. His lungs crackle with force as he guzzles a breath. “HfSH-Mnn-!”

That silenced Menelaus. But his footsteps do not retreat. Orestes knew he wouldn’t. But now he knows this plan should work--as long as Pylades reads the cues as well as he does in battle.

Pylades helps Orestes stand and hobble to the door. His normally bouncy curls stick flat and limp against his slick brow.

The door creaks open and Orestes stands in the hollow arch. Menelaus is there, bold and ready to enter.

“Nephew, kin of my kin,” his shoulders bob--barely a bow but no one, no one, would insult the great Menelaus by questioning his prowess at bowing.

“I have come to escort you to the feast.”

“Uncle,” Orestes offers a respectful nod. He ambles forward, detaching himself from Pylades.

Menelaus watches them, a spark in his eyes that is close to malice. And then, gone. Replaced by a Kingly smile. “We have not started without you. I told them, I said, ‘We must wait. We mustn’t start without the King! Not without the Lord of Mycenae.’”

Menelaus is so close now, Orestes can smell the sour wine upon his breath and Menelaus can see Orestes’ sweat bathed forehead. The King of Sparta licks his teeth, eyes narrow and clever.

Orestes turns away to sniffle politely and cough.

“Your illness seems not to have improved.” Menelaus scans the room. “Where might Elektra be?”

“She helps the women prepare the feast, of course.”

A raised brow in mock surprise. “Who cares for you, then, nephew? Your noble hand,” he gestures to Pylades. “I thought him capable in battle, no? Such a good man. A good soldier.”

“Pylades does just as well with other tasks.”

“Sickness is inherent in your family, is it not?”

A muscle feathers in Orestes’ cheek. “Are you implying, Uncle, that Agamemnon--your brother, greatest of Greeks--has a tainted bloodline?”

Menelaus chuffs, “Of course not. Obviously I meant in the matters of caring for ailments and illnesses, Elektra has experience with these. Wiping brows and blowing noses is women’s work.”

Orestes stiffens. “I find it distasteful to assume men cannot perform such simple tasks.” He twitches his head to the side to hide a silky curve of his lips. “But perhaps it is more Kingly to see women as superior in some aspects.”

Menelaus’ eyes flash, a peevishness hooding his eyes. He blinks it away. “How silly of me, very silly. I know not enough about your condition to say.” He tilts his head to the side, shifting his bulk from one foot to the other. “What exactly ails you, my nephew?”

Orestes opens his mouth to speak but instead of words escaping, air flows in.

Pylades, taking the subtle cue, places his oiled hand on Orestes’ shoulder.

Orestes turns his head as if to look at Pylades, nose pinking from the cloying scent a mere hairsbreadth away.

“My King…”

Orestes dips in a small sigh, brushing his nose against Pylades’ perfumed skin. “Hih-ieh!” his chin juts upward, nostrils jumping to life, “Hnk-ZZHeu!” His body warps and coils, avoiding Pylades’ skin with the spray.

A thick sniffle follows and he knuckles the itch still lingering behind.

Pylades notices the dizzying intensity of the sneeze. Notices every muscle Orestes must use to keep himself standing and stoic. He notices the slight tremor in Orestes’ legs, though the robe shades it from Menelaus’ notice.

“My sickness is from Thebes, come about when merchants came into the city for trade. It is quite Hie-TZHhhh-! Hn…” a thick swallow. “It is quite contagious. This is why Pylades cares for me. He has already been through the ailment.”

Menelaus rocks back on his heels, feeling the weight of his body rolling up and down his joints, his muscles. “Contagion is a myth.”

Orestes plasters on a smile. “I am glad to hear you say that, Uncle. I would hate to miss tonight’s festivities beca--” his eyes widen. The furies are there. Just above, in his field of vision. They giggle and cackle and caw.

One of them reaches down with a long, blackened finger, and curls it upward in an arcing motion.

“Hhh-ih!” Orestes feels the pull of his sinuses, as if his breaths were on a puppet string attached to the finger of the furies. The others giggle, glee replacing anger. Torment amuses them.

The finger lifts higher and his nose follows the motion.”Hhh-hh…”

Menelaus stares at him. Pylades stares at him. For the other men, it seems a normal, if highly exaggerated sneeze.

But it is not. It is well controlled by the furies. A monument of torturous prickles, like hanging partially off a cliff. “--ieh-HHh-Hhhihh!” Orestes’ nose stands poised, nostrils glistening, eyes wet, blurring their shadowy forms.

His chest swells, hitches coming like a songbird in his throat. And then, with a skip of his heart, “Hieh-TSZHSHH-! EGK’TNNKSHEU!”

The sounds ripping from his throat casts Orestes forward, stumbling so hard that Pylades wraps warm hands around his King’s shoulders to steady him.

Menelaus, eyes wide, teeters back. Takes a small step in retreat, before catching himself, anger hardening his features. Menelaus, King of Sparta, recognizes when to withdraw.

“Perhaps, nephew, you should pray to the gods for recovery first,” he says, sweeping back through the door. “I shall send my best priest to your chamber.” He peeks over his shoulder, lips curling. “After all, we want the best care for the King of Kings, do we not?”

The door bangs shut. Footsteps retreat. And then, unable to hold himself up any longer, Orestes falters, collapsing to the marbled floor.

Pylades dives for him, heartbeat threading through his throat. “My Lord, my Lord--” he holds Orestes in his arms. The King of Mycenae, son of Agamemnon, weak like liquid in his embrace.

“Pylades,” Orestes pants, hand fumbling, searching. “I…I…” he speaks with the ashes of fatigue, his energy burned away from the mere act of standing too long.

Pylades touches the back of his hand to his King’s brow. The closeness of his wrist lights a fire in his nose.

“Hih-EXTSHue! HihTSHHoo!” His neck bends, moisture painting Pylades’ hands. He can’t suppress his shudders, lips trembling as he speaks. “Apologies. Apologies--I--”

“My Lord, all is well. Menelaus has gone. You are safe, you are safe…I will care for you.”

Orestes slumps further into Pylades and sighs. “It is rotten work.”

Pylades’ finger drifts over his thumb, “Not to me.” He uses the folded cloth of his robe to dab at Orestes’ cheek. “Not if it’s you.”

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snz-thoughts · 6 months

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AS//TA//RION SNZ FINALLY (no one was waiting for this more than me lmao)

#its a messy sketch but he's recognizable and i love it #hot vampire elfs sneezing this is def what i need #snz #sneezeblr #sneeze art #sneeze kink #snz art #sneeze blog #snz kink #snzblr #snz thoughts #sneezefucker #tw: mess

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rosy-bless · 11 months

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one thing that i am personally very passionate about is a man who is just a mess. his hair is bedraggled and plastered to his face with sweat. he's shivering with a blanket around his shoulders. there's a feverish flush to his skin and bags under his eyes. the relentless tickle in his nose is making his eyes water and his breath catch, his lips parted in needy expectation; when he finally gets to sneeze, it's sudden and messy and draws out a pathetic groan. one hand is holding a crumpled tissue to his streaming nose and the other is snaking under the waistband of his sweatpants, and his gasp dissolves into a congested little cough when he touches himself.

#imagine how much more of a mess he'll be soon!!!#snz kink #snz scenario #bona fide babbs original #mess tw

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whats-k-popping · 2 years

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Could you write a fic where taehyung has a fever and is really sneezy but he has a headache and sore throat and every time he sneezes his head hurts?

Hope this is what you were looking for!?! I kinda glossed over the snz content and turned it more toward the sore throat and the headache. Sorry it took me so long to get done! I hope you can enjoy it! Thanks so much for the request! <3

Pairing: Taejoon - platonic intentions but read how you want. Ft. minor Taejin.

Words: 2732

Warnings: Illness || Snz Content || Sick Member || Fever || Sore Throat/Lost Voice || Headache/Migraine || Graphic Descriptions of Cold Symptoms || Graphic Descriptions of Headache || Crying/Emotional Distress

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“HEEEtsch, EETthhu, HEHnxtch”

Taehyung’s sneezes are louder than any alarm clock Namjoon's ever owned. So when Taehyung sneezes three times in the middle of the night, it startles Namjoon awake with a gasp.

“'M up. 'M awake” Namjoon slurs his words, scanning the room with squinted eyes. Everything is still dark and blurry, but he can tell it’s still the middle of the night. He swears he set his alarm for 8:30. He is certain that a loud noise invaded his dream and pulled him from sleep. But now that he’s awake, the room is silent.

Well, mostly silent. Taehyung is sniffling from his bed. There’s a lot of shifting, even for Taehyung, and Namjoon figures that the younger is awake. “Tae-yah? Did you hear something?” He asks. He needs the validation just to ensure he’s not going mad.

“Sorry, hyung. It was just my sneezing. Did I wake you?” Taehyung feigns ignorance. He knows the answer is a blaring yes. He had been enviously listening to the sounds of Namjoon’s peaceful sleep. Because he’s been awake the whole night, bargaining with his budding cold symptoms. Negotiations have gotten him nowhere.

Namjoon nods, “S’okay. Are you okay?” If the rapper were fully conscious, he would have quickly recalled that Taehyung does not sneeze in multiples unless it’s illness related. He might have noticed that Taehyung doesn’t sound sleepy at all, but rather a little congested. But he’s still swaddled in the warmth of his covers and clinging onto a promised sleep. Too close to the edge to notice those intricate little details. Not all of his neurons are firing. He doesn’t have the mental capacity to think about how his roommate usually sneezes right now.

So Taehyung takes advantage of it. The vocalist knows he’s getting sick. He could feel it coming on since the previous day. And he feels like it’s going to be a bad one. But he knows Namjoon is trying to sleep, resting well after a long day. And he wants it to stay that way. He promises to tell someone in the morning. But for now, the others need their rest. It’s too early for Namjoon, or any of them, to be taking care of him. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little tickle. Must have been some dust on my bed or something.” The lie comes easy. It has been a while since he changed his linens. He’ll add that to his post-cold to-do list. “Go back to sleep, hyung. We still have a few hours.” he gently encourages. Namjoon doesn’t fight it.

Taehyung feels more sneezes inching their way to the top of his nose. But he doesn’t want to bother Namjoon anymore than he already has. He doesn’t want to risk waking him again. So he holds them back, shaking his head and tucking a finger under his nose to scare them off. But that’s only a temporary solution. They still lie in wait for a loud and wet release. So he waits until he’s certain Namjoon’s sleeping deeply again. Once the leader’s snores confirm it, Taehyung sneaks out of the room with his blanket and relocates to the couch. Hopefully far enough away from the bedrooms to sneeze freely without waking anyone up.

Sleep doesn’t find him any easier on the couch than it did in his bed. He’s still turning over every time his sinuses shift. He’s still coughing as post-nasal drip fills his throat. And he’s still sneezing when he feels the tickle in his nose. It’s impossible to even get a few minutes of shut eye. And when he does feel on the brink of sleep, a feverish chill shakes him back to consciousness. It’s hell on earth, he thinks with a whine.

He does manage to fall asleep at some point. He wouldn't believe it given how exhausted he still is. But he's awoken by the sounds of voices nearby. He keeps his eyes closed, pretending he can't hear them. But it's Seokjin and Namjoon, neither of them do well with hushed conversation. It sounds like they are arguing. Or maybe Taehyung's headache is just amplifying the sound of their voices. Any noise at this point is too loud for him.

He picks up bits and pieces of the conversation. From what Taehyung can gather from his eavesdropping, Seokjin is angry at Namjoon. Something about the Daegu vocalist spending the night on the couch. And even though Namjoon seems equally upset about it, the oldest hyung is blaming the leader.

The realization that his hyungs are fighting because of him hits his fevered mind. That's silly. Namjoon didn't do anything wrong. It was his decision to leave the room. It was his decision to sleep on the couch. He has to take responsibility for it. He needs to end the argument with the truth. Because he hates it when his hyungs fight.

Maybe he also hates it when they are loud. Maybe he has a splitting headache and wants to sleep more. Maybe he knows that Seokjin and Namjoon can go on for hours with petty arguments like this and he just wants them to stop. But he doesn't feel well, so he can be a little selfish. The outcome will benefit them all in the end.

His body aches as he sits up on the couch. He pulls his blanket around his shoulders and clutches the corners around his chin to fight the chill. The ends of the blanket drag behind him as he follows his hyung's voices to the kitchen. It's a long, shuffling journey. His whole body tells him to stop.

Two loud sneezes alert the two older members to Taehyung's presence. They both turn and look at the sick member. He has definitely seen better days. His skin is blotchy with fever spots, the tip of his nose is bright red, and he can barely keep his eyes open. He looks so small wrapped up in a blanket, quaking at the knees like standing is simply too much.

"Tae-yah, you should go rest." Seokjin's voice is gentle and caring. "Hyung will get you something to eat, go lay down."

Taehyung opens his mouth to speak. He wants to say that he didn't want to bother Namjoon with his cold. He wants to say he chose to leave the room when Namjoon fell asleep. He wants to say he chose to sleep on the couch and it's not Namjoon's fault. But croaky broken syllables and raspy breaths take the place of his words. His voice is completely gone, but he doesn’t remember losing it. It was fine enough when he was talking to Namjoon in the middle of the night.

He pouts in frustration, massaging his throat with the hand not clutching his blanket. His neck feels hard and swollen, but he aims to be able to speak again. He clears his throat with some wet coughs before attempting to speak again. But it’s the same result. Nothing intelligible comes up, he ends up hunched over coughing deeply into his fist.

Seokjin’s expression softens immediately. He forgets entirely about his spat with Namjoon and runs to Taehyung’s side. He immediately goes into mother hen mode, pressing a palm to his fellow vocalist’s sweaty forehead. “You’ve caught yourself quite a nasty cold, Tae bear.” He consoles once Taehyung’s done coughing. “Don’t you worry, you’ll start feeling better soon.”

Taehyung leans against Seokjin, too weak to support his own body weight for another second. He lets out a whimper and a yawn. “You’re tired,” Seokjin understands, “Let’s put you to bed then.” He starts guiding Taehyung toward the bedrooms. The younger man makes it as far as the stairs before he quits. He looks at Seokjin with desperation. There’s no way he can climb the steps. He just won’t make it.

The oldest understands instantly. “Alright, Tae. Can you get on my back?” He squats to make it easier for Taehyung to climb on. He scrambles for a few minutes while trying to push himself up, but he’s lacking the usual upper body strength he needs to latch on. With a little help from Namjoon, Taehyung is able to secure himself to his hyung for the journey to the bedrooms. Seokjin marches up the steps with ease despite the added weight and deposits the sick member in his bed. “There you go. Hyung’s going to go get some supplies for you. Can you stay awake for five more minutes?”

Taehyung nods with no confidence in his answer. Seokjin doesn’t believe it either given the way the vocalist’s eyelids droop as soon as his head hits the pillow.

It actually takes Seokjin about 15 minutes to return to the room. So he can’t blame Taehyung for being asleep when he returns. He looks so peaceful while he’s resting, Seokjin doesn’t want to disturb him. He looks like death warmed over. He needs every second of rest he can get. So he decides to do the best he can while still ensuring that Taehyung stays asleep. He scans his forehead with a temporal thermometer and confirms the presence of a significant fever. With gentle motions, he smooths a damp rag over the sick vocalist’s forehead. Food and medicine will have to wait until he wakes.

Seokjin does everything he can for Taehyung before he absolutely does have to leave the dorm. He’s got schedules to attend, things to do, places to be. But he doesn’t want to leave Taehyung alone, so he recruits Namjoon to look after him for the day. It may be more of a demand, a repentance to compensate for the fact that Taehyung slept on the couch. But Namjoon accepts it regardless. He knows he can work on things from home. It’ll be easy enough to work on tracks on his laptop while keeping an eye on Taehyung.

“HEP’tichi, HESHhu, ehh-HE’tch”

Taehyung’s nose only allows him a meager half hour of sleep before he startles himself awake with forceful sneezes. Despite losing his voice, his sneezes are still monstrous roars that claw through his throat with vengeance on the way out. There’s an ache that grows each time he pitches with a harsh sneeze, traveling from the bridge of his nose to the backs of his eyes all the way around to the base of his neck. It hurts everywhere.

He’s in too much pain to sleep, despite how his body yearns for a few more hours. His body is playing tricks on him, making him believe that he’s thirsty. But it seems to be just a cruel way to trick him into swallowing. The action is painful and does little to soothe his raw throat. Every time he starts to doze off, another string of sneezes forces him back to consciousness.

There’s no relief. He tries to massage around his temples, he tries to shift positions in the bed. He tries pulling the blanket over his head to block the light and even tries to bite the tip of his thumb because he heard somewhere that it's supposed to help with headaches. But nothing eases his ache in the slightest. The humming of the air conditioning is deafening. The dimly lit lamp is blinding. The pulsing pressure of blood against his skull is agonizing. It’s a waiting game against the pain. And just when he thinks the drumming ache is receding, he sneezes again and he’s right back where he started.

After repeating the cycle four times over, he can’t maintain his composure. He cries. He weeps in desperation and in pain. He feels the most miserable he’s ever felt in his life. He doesn’t see an end to the suffering in sight. He has no hope for any relief. So he cries.

He wants comfort. He wants to draw someone’s attention, someone’s sympathy, someone’s love. He wants someone to coddle him, just a bit. He wants to be reassured that he will be okay. But no one will ever hear him. His cries are silent, nothing but heavy breaths and pitchy croaks as tears pour mercilessly down his cheeks. He tries calling out for the members, but he can’t force a single syllable. As therapeutic as the crying seems at the moment, it only proves to make his headache even worse.

Eventually, Namjoon returns to the room. It’s been a while since Seokjin checked Taehyung’s temperature and he wants to know if the rest has been doing the vocalist any good. He opens the door to find Taehyung sitting up in the bed, sniffling as tears drip quickly from his chin onto his blanket. His expressions are devastating, eyes squinted shut and mouth hanging out like he’s trying to scream. He scrubs at his face with balled fists and jerks with sobs that just land him coughing into the open air. The urge to comfort him is immediate.

As soon as Namjoon lays a finger on Taehyung’s shoulder, the vocalist wraps his whole body around the leader. Similar to how a boa constrictor would envelop their prey, only Taehyung is much more distraught than intimidating. The vocalist will never let go. He never wants to be alone again. The pain is too much for him to cope with by himself.

Namjoon’s struggling to breathe in Taehyung’s clutches, but he could not care any less. Because watching Taehyung bawl his eyes out makes Namjoon’s stomach flip. So he doesn’t care what happens to him if it means that Taehyung will calm down. He consoles, brushing fingers through Taehyung’s hair and scratching gently against his back. His skin burns, Namjoon suspects a fever spike played a part in Taehyung’s breakdown. He keeps his verbal reassurances low and rhythmic.

It’s a long while before Taehyung finally calms himself down. He’s still sniffling and catching his breath. His eyes are bloodshot and watery, but finally open enough to look pleadingly into Namjoon’s big brown eyes. “There you go, Tae Tae. You’re okay. You’re going to be okay. All better.”

Taehyung tries again to speak, but nothing comes out and he realizes he’s right back where he started. He’s not better now. He’s worse. He’s miserable and he still doesn’t feel well at all and it feels like it’s never going to end. And to make matters worse, he can’t even express that appropriately. So he tries to make Namjoon understand, through the sheer power of body language.

But Taehyung’s gestures are flailing and vague and just hard to understand. Namjoon can’t make sense of it. Until he sees the events in action.

All the crying had shifted the contents of Taehyung’s sinuses. His nose runs relentlessly in an effort to clear it. Taehyung sniffles harshly in between gestures to ward off the tickle but it eventually wins out. “EHRshhh, ee’NXTtch” He pitches forward with a messy double. When he picks himself up, his hands shoot to his head as the splitting pain returns with a vengeance. He winces and shuts his eyes, pressing himself impossibly closer to Namjoon. And Namjoon finally understands that Taehyung’s got a headache. A borderline migraine by the looks of it. Suddenly all the flailing makes sense.

“Is it your head, TaeTae?” Namjoon questions, whispering. He starts to pull himself away. Taehyung nods, a small movement so he doesn’t have to jostle his throbbing head too much.

Namjoon has to pry the vocalist off of him before he manages to get Taehyung to lay back down in bed. There’s a few whimpers and a whole lot of teary-eyed pouting, but Namjoon assures him he’ll only be gone for a few minutes and then they can resume cuddling. Taehyung accepts with the promise of more cuddling.

Namjoon hurries to gather the supplies Seokjin left for him. He finds the bottle of painkillers and gives a dose to Taehyung. He turns the lights off in the room, leaving only the minor light of a dimmed desk lamp to make sure he doesn’t trip over anything in the room on his journey to the bed. He climbs into the bed and leans against the headboard, arms wide open expectantly for the vocalist's arrival.

Taehyung finds some comfort in pressing himself to Namjoon’s stomach, arms wrapping around his torso to once again prevent his escape. Namjoon allows it, gently massaging the area around Taehyung’s temples until the younger member is finally able to fall into a steady sleep.

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A/N: Wonder how many fics I have ended with the sickie falling asleep?? I need to be more original. LOL. As always, thanks for reading to the end! Feedback is always appreciated. And please let me know if I missed any tags or TWs. Please call me out for any errors you notice!

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pollinatedbosom · 7 months

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Group contagion scenario(minor mess talk):

was watching one of those early/early mid 2000s detective shows, and just thinking about how the main character, usually the boss(or boss enough) will hover over their teammates when they have new information about a case.

Just entirely leaning into their desk space, and over their computer as they are sharing information, no sense of personal space. Thinking about our boss with a streaming contagious cold that everyone is bound to come down with. it's only a matter of time.

sick character is polite enough to try and not intentionally catch their teammates in the cross fire of their nasty wet cold, but they have a persistent buzzing itch nagging at their swollen red nose(sometimes the sneezes come without warning. and they're so pathetically apologetic that nobody is genuinely upset with them).

our sick character who is mindlessly wiping their nose with the palm of their hand or messily trying to rub the itch away throughout the entirety of the day, inevitably leaving their hand teaming with snot and contagion. spreading their germs as they use their teammates computers, desk space, or phones.(if they are affectionate with high fives or shoulder rubs anything of the sort)

their direct partner(love interest) who shares the car rides with them to crime scenes and interrogations undoubtedly being the first to come down with the awful cold. their partner bringing them tea instead of the usual coffee even while our sick characters is adamant that there's no need for "drastic measures". carrying around handkerchiefs or travel packets of tissues(they will need them soon anyways too)

and anyone who gets trapped in the elevator with them might as well consider themselves down for the count as well.

#snzario #snzblr #snzfucker #snz kink #tw contagion

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boobsneezevids · 3 months

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another take on the princess forgetting her hanky, but this time she's not refusing a kind offer but rather begging to borrow your handkerchief because she's getting herself into quite a terrible mess

(link)

#sneezy princess #lesbian sneeze #snzbian #snzblr #snzfucker #snz wav #snz video #my video #tw mess

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hockeynoses · 6 months

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Happy Halloween! (a snz fic)

Male - cold, mess!, implied future contagion

~*~

He wakes up to sinuses that are absolutely packed with congestion. He’d gone to sleep last night with a tickle in his throat and a bit of a headache, but he certainly didn’t expect to wake up to this.

His nose starts streaming the second he sits up in bed, setting off a tickle deep in his nose. Still hazy from sleep and a head that feels like it’s stuffed full of cotton, he only manages to get his hand halfway to his face before erupting with a thick sneeze – “heh-nnggK’SHO!” that forces the gunk that had accumulated in his sinuses out, covering his hand in mess, the rest escaping into the air. He’s left with twin trails of clear liquid coating his upper lip as he shivers, dazed.

Leaning over to the nightstand, he thanks his past self for keeping a box of tissues stocked there as he pulls out several of them. He buries his face in the soft cotton and lets out a truly ill-sounding blow. The sound of it crackles through the air as more snot is dislodged, filling the bundle and soaking through to his hands.

He throws the ruined tissues to the floor and grabs the box, setting it next to him on the bed and pulling out fresh ones. His breath scissors in his chest before he snaps forward with a violent – “huh…ha-AHH’EEHGGSHH’IUE!” that explodes out of him.

He doesn’t dare remove the tissues from his face, groaning as he feels the wet mess of it against his skin. He gives a damp, clearing blow, strong enough to shift the pressure in his ears. He’s forced to breathe through his mouth as he crumples up the Kleenex and tosses them to the side.

I’m going to go through the whole box by noon, at this point, he thinks, flopping back onto his soft pillows. He rubs his knuckles against his itchy nose, already well on its way to becoming pink.

It fucking had to be today, he laments, allowing himself a small pity party. It’s Halloween, and he’d been planning on spending the day making treats for the party later tonight, as well as handing out candy to the trick or treaters. He’s just going to have to power through. Maybe it just seems worse because it’s still early and his body hasn’t had time to wake up yet.

As soon as he thinks it, his nostrils flare and he’s surprised by a wrenching double – “ha’GSSHH’IUE! Huh..ha’NGGSSHH’uh!” At the mercy of his own body and unable to cover in time, the viscous spray of it mists the sheets in front of him. “Ugh… oh god,” he groans, swiping at the mess on his face with his hand.

Remembering the box next to him, he pulls out a fistful of Kleenex and releases a gurgling, cold-ridden blow into the waiting tissues.

“Fugg, I don’t wadda be – heh… ha’ERRSSHH’IUE! – SNF. I don’t wadda be sigg today.” Noting the squishy pressure that still clogs his sinuses after so many clearing sneezes, he resigns himself to the fact that he most likely has come down with the cold from hell.

Yet, determined as he is, he’s not going to let it stop him from going on with his plans. He can still make the food for the party tonight, he’ll just have to be very careful about washing his hands and covering his sneezes. If he has to make them one-handed while holding a tissue to his dripping nose the whole time, then so be it.

He should be able to hide his illness enough that no one will be worried. Hopefully he’ll be able to hold it off enough so they won’t take one look at him and decide it isn’t worth the risk. Hell, the way he sounds, even just being in the same room as him might be risky enough. But he can’t let his friends down, and he doesn’t want to miss the party.

Pulling more tissues from the box, he catches a harsh, scraping – “uh…huh…ha’NNGGGSSH’ah!” into the bundle, containing all of the dense, contagious mess that his nose is constantly trying to force out of him. He gives one last marshy blow before getting up to start the day, box of tissues in hand. If he can just keep his nose under control, everything should be fine.

#snzblr #snzfic #snz fic #snzfics #snz fics #cw: contagion #tw: contagion #cw: mess #I wrote this with Ste/ve H. in mind but I made it generic for the masses!#Happy Hall/oween! I woke up and immediately wanted some Ste/ve Hall/oween horniness #I've been on a tear lately 😂#I wrote this in an hour so please be gentle and enjoy #hn tissue tag

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fuckin-sick-bih · 8 months

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Tattoos and Tissues pt 3!

Fandom: Stranger Things Summary: No Upside Down. Tattoo Artist and Florist AU. Eddie goes to Steve's place to take care of his florist boyfriend who has fallen ill. CW: Mess, inducing, stuffy talk, illness, mentions of erections and adult themes/kink, Steve has the kink and Eddie likes indulging Word Count: 4.3k Author Note: I did it! I finished it! I finished a fic! Holy fuck! No one ever let me do this again... I am absolutely going to do this to myself again no questions, I just suck at pacing myself lmao. Honestly, the first draft was WAY more Adult lol But also I don't want this to be the end of this AU. I just don't wanna do another 3-part fic, I wanna do little mini fics or drabbles if ideas happen tbh. Regardless, enjoy. I am aware not all things resolve, but hey that's why it can be something cute and small and on-going, right? Eddie - bold Steve - Italics MINORS DNI

whats your address?

What? Why?

because i come baring gifts, Harrington. address, please, so i can figure out where the hell im going im so lost

413 Building D Maple Glen Apartments just off Terrace Street. I’ll buzz you in, just come up to the fourth floor, and I’ll be poking my head out.

When Eddie showed up at Building D of Maple Glen Apartments and saw he had four flights of stairs to climb, he decided he was going to strangle Steve instead of nurse him back to health. He adjusted the bags of goodies for Steve in his hands and began the climb up to the fourth floor. The top floor, of course.

As he reached the top and exited the stairwell, he spotted Steve poking his head into the hallway as promised. Sure, Eddie was panting, but Steve looked wrecked. There were dark circles under his eyes, his nose was bright cherry red at the tip and rims, and the rest of his face was pale.

“Jesus H. Christ, you weren’t kidding… You really are sick, huh?” Eddie said in a soft, somewhat concerned tone as he approached Steve.

The other’s pale cheeks seemed to flush up a dark shade of red at Eddie’s words. “What id the world are you doi’g here, Eddie?” Steve asked in a congested and raspy voice that made Eddie wince in sympathy for his throat.

Instantly, Eddie went digging in his bags for the bag of cough drops. “Please suck on one of those, Harrington. Talking sounds like it hurts. And they’ve got menthol-y stuff in ‘em. It’ll help your nose, c’mon lemme in.” He shoulders his way into Steve’s apartment before the other can stop him.

“Eddie!” Steve rasped out before turning away from the other to cough harshly into his arm. “You dod’t wadt to be id here, you’ll get s-siiih… IXXGH’T! Sick.” There had been just enough time for Steve’s hand to shoot up and pinch his nose to stifle what sounded like a powerful and still just barely restrained sneeze. It made Eddie wince to think how it must have hurt his ears.

There was a scoff from the curly-haired tattoo artist, who was already unpacking his bag of goodies on the nearby countertop. At the same time, Steve shut the door, not protesting anymore. “Bless you and puhhh-lease. I don’t get sick, Steve. Munson Constitution. Allergies? Yes. Sick? No. I can’t even remember the last time I was sick. Wait-” He frowned as he tried to dig up the memory. “I think it was like 8th grade? And I had the flu? I dunno; Uncle Wayne came home to me curled up asleep in the empty tub with a fever. He couldn’t find me for like twenty minutes.”

There was a mildly concerned but still somewhat fond smile on Steve’s face. “You’re a bess, Budsod.” He sniffled thickly and grabbed a tissue from the box beside the couch where it looked like Steve had taken up residence. A nest of blankets, a pillow from his bed, crumpled tissues surrounding the nest, and a few empty water bottles. “But seriously, you should go. Robid high-tailed it out of here to Dadcy’s the seco’d she heard I was sick.”

“All the more reason for me to stay!” Eddie chirped, stepping back to show Steve the menagerie of sick supplies he’d brought. “Not that you need a babysitter, and if you seriously wanna be left alone to your misery, I get it, but…” He side-stepped a little closer to bump their shoulders together. “I never liked being alone while sick.” He admits softly.

The little bump made Steve’s lips twitch, and Eddie counted it as a win. Then Steve moved forward to have a look at the supplies. “Jesus, you didd’t have to get b’me all this…”

Eddie pats Steve on the back as he moved with him, eyes scanning over the cold/flu meds, a couple cans of chicken noodle soup, some bottles of Gatorade, the cough drops he’d mentioned earlier, and even- “Those fucking dissolvable shower disks are evil, Harrington. That’s your treat if you’re a good boy and take your meds, deal?” He said with a smirk growing on his face now.

A sputtering noise from Steve turned into a coughing fit almost right away, bad enough that Eddie was rubbing his back through the end of it. “W-What the hell does that bead?” He choked out, eyes wide. “If they’re evil thed, why did you bri’g theb?”

A laugh escaped Eddie, who was now taking Steve’s hands to guide him back to the couch, settling the sick man down to wrap him back up in blankets. “Because they work and because you will probably love it.” He said playfully and hesitated momentarily, trying not to overthink it before pressing his lips to Steve’s forehead. “Not warm.” He whispered softly.

Steve let out an almost shuddering-sounding sigh like he was just happy to be touched. To be taken care of for once. They’d only started getting to know each other but had been texting a bit. With all those teens he babysat, Eddie could believe it. Between work, babysitting, and probably taking care of things at the apartment with his roommate… when did Steve get time to care for himself? No wonder he got sick, Eddie thought.

“What do you say to some daytime cold meds, a cough drop, some Gatorade, and I’ll heat you up a can of soup in a bit?” Eddie asked Steve softly, running his fingers delicately through the other man’s messy bedhead. It was as if Steve was a cat, utterly leaning into the touch despite how sick he must feel with how he looked.

There was a nod from Steve, so Eddie took that to mean go ahead with his plan. “Kinda glad to see you keep work at work.” He admits to Steve in a casually playful way while grabbing Steve a Gatorade and some pills. “Would’ve sucked if we were both sneezing our heads off- bless you, by the way.”

As Eddie spoke, Steve’s face had been going slowly slacker, and his eyes were unfocused in a classic pre-sneeze hang-up. “Ixx’TSH! IXGh’t! Oh god… I’b dot godda be able to stifle those buch lo’ger…” Steve mutters with a much soupier-sounding sniffle than Eddie expected for some pretty well-stifled sneezes.

Nevertheless, Eddie pulled his bandana from his back pocket and swatted Steve with it before offering it out to him. “Here. Stop stifling then, jackass. Didn’t see me stifling for you, hm?” He pointed out, handed over the meds and drink, and gestured to the cough drops. “Try one. It’ll feel good on your throat and help your congestion.”

Steve caught the bandana and gave Eddie an appreciative smile for the soft fabric against his nose. “Ugh, fide if it gets you to shut up.” He teased, punctuated by a weak cough after downing the meds. Then he grabs a menthol lozenge. After popping it into his mouth, Steve’s eyebrows raise. “I was expecti’g that to taste worse… cad defiditely still taste the bedthol…” He admits with a slight sniffle.

“Sorry… what were you sayi’g earlier?” Steve asked with another little sniffle as he settled on the couch, pressing the bandana to his nose some more. There’s the slightest flush that wasn’t there a little bit ago. Eddie would’ve remembered if it had been there or not. It’s too cute, barely spreading over his cheekbones and nose tip.

Eddie was knocked out of his daydreaming by remembering he had to answer Steve. “Huh? Oh- thanking you for your lack of plants. That’s all.” He jokes and shakes his head. “It’s stupid, don’t worry about it. I’m just glad to get a break from being the sneezy one.” He teased.

A quiet, albeit raspy, chuckle escapes Steve while he sucks on the lozenge. “Ab I givi’g you a rud for you b-buhh…bodey yet? Or do I deed to snff let byself sdeeze bore for that?” With all the stopping to sniffle and how his nose seemed to be tickling, Eddie got the idea the menthol in the lozenge was working on Steve’s sinuses.

“Well, I think you’re doomed to sneeze more soon either way, big boy.” Eddie teased as he watched the other man’s expression fall again into that pre-sneeze desperation.

Still, Steve seemed to want to deny himself release. “D-D’noh idea… w-whhaahat you bead, Eds-” His breath was beginning to hitch dangerously now, coming closer and closer to its inevitable crescendo.

Eddie took Steve’s hands, “Don’t stifle, Steve… just sneeze. It’s okay.” He urged the other, getting the feeling it was far more than just a matter of Steve not wanting to spread germs. Like he was still embarrassed and shy.

“Oh, okaaehh-! AeISHHue! HeiiISHhuh! Ngh- Ugh… Oh fuck. Still tickles.” Steve admits, scrunching and wriggling his nose in all sorts of ways Eddie found altogether too damn endearing.

Eddie rolled his eyes and dropped down onto the couch with Steve. “Come here, sniffles.” And he can plainly see that has an effect on Steve from where he sits now. Steve’s breath catches, and there’s the slightest tent to the front of his Hawkins High Swim Team gray sweatpants. Whoever designed those pants for the swim team, Eddie could kiss them. “Oh, you like that?” He purred.

A shaky sort of breath left Steve, but Eddie wasn’t quite sure if it was from being teased or still needing to sneeze. Though Steve moved a bit closer, his eyes were watering a little now with the irritation that wouldn’t budge. “O-oh god, cobe o-ohhhih-!” Even with as desperate of a hitch as it sounded, Steve still faltered into sniffles and groaned.

The curly-haired man looked at Steve with an exceptionally soft pout, one of distinct sympathy. “You want some help with that? Seriously, that looks like torture.” He tilted his head when Steve sniffled, and his eyes widened at Eddie’s offer.

“I’b sorry, what’d you just ask, b’me?” Steve asked, like he wasn’t sure if he was hearing correctly. He was still rubbing his nose against the cuff of his hoodie; Eddie wasn’t sure if he was encouraging or fighting off the tickle anymore.

Eddie raised a brow at Steve in confusion, “Do you need help with that stuck sneeze? You’re starting to look more miserable than me peak allergy season, Stevie.” He teased, watching as the other continued staring at him like a deer in headlights until it clicked for Eddie, and he had his lightbulb moment. “Wait! Does that turn you on?” He asked, sounding utterly delighted to have figured out how to get Steve going to the point where he was nearly speechless.

Instantly, Steve was sputtering, and it caused a few coughs to escape him. “Oh by god, you cad’t just say thi’gs like that to b’me, Eds…” He complained, leaning back against the couch to tip his head back while rubbing at his nose some more. “Fuck… ugh, bay- maehh… hehih-!” And once again, Eddie watched him wind up, only for nothing to happen.

“Sooo…?” Eddie prompted and gave a vague wave of his hand as if gesturing Steve to continue.

It was truly remarkable how red Steve’s face could flush, Eddie thought as he watched the lighter brunette make the internal debate. “Fide. Jesus, we practically flirt all the tibe adyway.” He reached forward to snatch a tissue, twisting the corner into a point.

Eddie’s brows furrowed as he watched in utter confusion while Steve strangled the tissue. “Okay, I gotta ask… what the fuck are you doing?”

“I’b- ihhih… ugh, I’b baki’g sobethi’g for you to i’duce b’me.” He explained before handing the tissue, now twisted to a neatly pointed tip, over to Eddie. “Probably wod’t get bore thad ode use out of it because I’b all coldish, but iihh-! it should do the trick.”

After accepting the new tool, Eddie turned to face Steve more as he started to get the idea. “Ohh, I think I get it. Okay. Never actually thought to use a tissue like this, honestly.” He admits before smirking a little. This was Steve’s kink, and well… he wanted to perform for him a little. Make it fun for him.

He trails the very tip of the twisted-up tissue end over the tip of Steve’s red nose and watches as his nostrils flare in response to even just that. “Jesus, someone’s sensitive.” It was just a stray comment. Sometimes, Eddie couldn’t keep his mouth shut, but judging by how Steve’s hips suddenly squirmed, he really enjoyed it.

A grin split across Eddie’s face, and he suddenly moved to straddle Steve’s lap, “Think I need a better position for this, don’t you, sweetheart?” he asked teasingly and winked at his boyfriend, who was now bright red as he looked up at him. Eddie eased down to sit more in Steve’s lap, which caused the other man to groan softly.

“Sure, E-Eddie…” Steve stuttered out, but this time, it clearly had nothing to do with his sensitive nostrils that Eddie was already getting back to teasing. “You cad go i-ihhh idside…”

That made the darker-haired man raise his brows in mild surprise, but he nodded, gently slipping the tip of the tissue into Steve’s nose. He gently twirled the tissue curiously, which had Steve instantly gasping beneath him, and Eddie’s dick twitched at just how powerful he felt for a brief moment.

The twirl seemed to do the trick because Steve’s nostrils flared out, and his eyes fluttered closed with another desperate, hitching breath. Eddie’s hand shot back with the tissue still clutched between his fingers, the twisted tip now all damp and limp despite its short adventure.

“Ihh… IXXTISHHUE!! HEIIISHUE! Uh… Hupt’IISHHuh… ugh oh by god…” Steve groaned out after the sneezes. The first two burst forth with a sudden intensity Eddie hadn’t been expecting at all. The lighter-haired brunette hastily grabbed a tissue to press to his face, cleaning himself up while a blush spread across his neck and cheeks. “Fuck that’s so e’barassi’g.” He whispered, but Eddie could feel Steve’s erection pressing firmly against him.

The ease with which Eddie could get Steve so hard he was pressing up against him like that even while he was under the weather was borderline intoxicating. It didn’t matter that Steve had snapped right forward to sneeze, the spray misting briefly against Eddie’s forearm and stomach.

“Bless you, hey… it’s alright. You’re sick; gotta get that gunk outta you. Maybe a shower with one of those disks would be a good idea, actually… clear out some of that congestion, huh?” He offered and grabbed Steve another tissue to replace the one he’d just about soaked through by now.

Little, congested snuffles were coming from Steve constantly as Eddie sat back in his lap to let him tend to his leaking nose. “Baybe…” Steve relented a little, still seeming shy, and wiped away the tears at the edges of his eyes from sneezing. His sinuses were so utterly full it was hard not to tear up with every sneeze. “What uh… what exactly do they eved do? Dever really tried theb before.”

At that, Eddie perked up and grinned at Steve before moving out of his lap. “Oh, you’re gonna love this- c’mon, sniffles. Let’s get you in the nice warm shower with one of those disks then.” He slid backward off of Steve’s lap carefully. He offered his hands to pull him up, ensuring Steve was steady on his feet before grabbing one of said shower disks and being led to the bathroom.

The bathroom was admittedly a little small for two people. Eddie wasn’t sure how Steve and his roommate managed it, but he went about getting the disk out of the packaging. Of course, the moment the menthol scent hit him, his eyes watered, and his nose prickled, making him pause to rub roughly at it with his hand.

A sudden hand on his arm made him pause, blinking over at Steve, who was looking at him with a concerned expression. “I cad oped it?” He offers softly, but Eddie takes a moment to look at him. Steve looks exhausted and sick, sure, but his pupils are wide and lust-blown. That hard-on from the couch is still half-present and painfully evident in those gray sweatpants, too.

“I got it, sweethhheart.” Eddie assures, wiggling the disk as his own breath tries to hitch, and he lets it for once. In fact, Eddie sniffs slightly, which only irritates his sensitive nose more, so his nostrils twitch and flare. “Told you… you’ll l-love.. thhhh… hEXZT’Shiew! Whew! Okay. You’ll love these.” And without another moment to waste, Eddie sets the little disk in the shower for Steve with a wink. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

Finally, Eddie sees Steve’s unfiltered reaction to one of his sneezes, similar to in the library. It was as if the poor man had completely bluescreened briefly before rebooting. Pupils wide and lust blown as he stared at Eddie, who still rubbed his nose. “Uh… yeah, so just… shower like dorbal?” he asked with another soupy sniffle and began to pull off his shirt, already starting to shiver.

Suddenly, Eddie’s throat felt dry as Steve began undressing with him in the bathroom, and he nodded. “Yep. That’s the idea. It’ll dissolve, and the scent will help clear out your sinuses. Want me to go sit on the couch and wait?”

With his pants still on, Steve was reaching forward to crank the water as hot as it would go, still sniffling. “Uhm… ki’da… ki’da dizzy actually? Could you baybe like… keep close? Id case I deed you?” There was a quiet plea in Steve’s voice, the request coming out awkward and stunted like he wasn’t used to asking for help.

Something in it tugged on Eddie’s shriveled heart, and he looked up at Steve with a soft expression. “Yeah, Stevie. I can stay. I’ll turn around so you can strip and get in, deal? Deal.” He agreed, tucking himself into the corner by the sink to stare at the wall. There was a good deal of shuffling behind him before he heard the shower curtain and the spray of water finally being interrupted.

The menthol scent from the shower disk was already making Eddie’s nose twitch and tingle, so he closed the toilet seat lid, going to sit down on it. “Remember what I said earlier? We’re trying to get that gunk out of you, man. Trust me when I say I’m not gonna judge you or anything. Seriously, I’m sure you’ll get to see me peak allergy s-seeh-season, and you’ll get it.”

His idle chatter as Steve showered made the man give a quiet grunt. “You sure?” Steve’s voice was tired, nervous, and still congested, but it already sounded a little better than before.

“P-Positiihh-“ But just as Eddie had been about to respond, his breath hitched dangerously, and his hand flung up to cover his mouth and nose. “IXT’SHiew! Ugh, positive! Sorry, sensitive nose.” Eddie admitted with a little sniffle and scrunched his nose up to try and dispel that tingling sort of itch. It wasn’t like his usual allergic itch, just maddening enough to make his sinuses wonder what was in the air to react to. “Hit’SHZiew! Snf! Motherfucker. It’s supposed to make you sneeze, not me!”

A laugh escaped Steve, turning into some productive-sounding coughs that had Eddie grimacing in sympathy. “Give m’be a m’bidute, dod’t worry.” He assured, sniffling a little as the shower disk worked its magic while he went through his usual shower routine.

It was barely a minute later when the bathroom had gone oddly quiet. “Heh… Gonna- HEIKTshuh! HI’TShue! Eh… ET’SHHue! HN’kt!” The last one sounded strange, and Eddie blinked a few times, wondering what in the hell Steve had done to make it sound like that.

“You good, man?” Eddie checked in softly, almost tempted to peek over the shower curtain just to make sure he wasn’t going to pass out or anything.

A shaky breath left Steve, and Eddie saw one of his hands come up to grab the shower curtain rod for support. “Uh-huh… snff! Yeah, just-” Another little groan came from the lighter brunette, and Eddie felt worry fluttering in his ribcage like a frightened bird. “Dizzy… m’okay. Rad out of breath od that last sdeeze…”

Something like a little cough slipped out of Steve, and Eddie stood to put a hand on top of Steve’s that had a white knuckle grip on the shower curtain rod. “Maybe it’s time to rinse off and get out, yeah? I’ll get your towel and look away so you can hop out.” He encouraged, already moving, to grab the fluffy maroon towel and hold it open.

Only a few moments later, Steve sounded like he’d rinsed off, but then there was a soft catch of breath just above the spray before- “HeXT’SHHuh! EXT’SHHUE! Hihh… IXT’SHHuh IT’SHH! Oh by god…” If anything, Steve’s tone sounded exasperated, but the sneezes had sounded productive. “You were right. About the shower disk.” He groaned, and Eddie could hear the shower spray being disrupted again, making him smile a little before the water shut off.

“You’re kind of adorable when you’re sick, y’know that?” Eddie said as he shut his eyes, turning his face as he held out the towel for Steve. “I mean- you’re adorable in general, don’t get me wrong! But like… I dunno, man. I know you can take care of yourself, but I just wanna make sure you’re looked after.”

There was another brief pause, and the continued silence as he felt Steve press into the towel had Eddie’s anxiety spiking. He wrapped the towel around the other’s shoulders and gave him a squeeze there. As the silence dragged on, Eddie felt a need to fill it, “Sorry, is that weird? I don’t wanna like- infantilize you or anything. I just… I wanna drag you to bed, wrap you in blankets, get you whatever you need until you feel better, y’know?”

“Would you lay with me?” Steve asked suddenly, voice right in front of him, and it shocked Eddie so much that his eyes snapped open.

In front of him stood Steve. Hair dripping wet still, the towel now around his waist, and droplets of water running down his sinfully pretty chest. A more perverse part of Eddie had the intrusive thought of licking the water off him. Steve still had dark circles under his eyes, but those eyes were bright and pleading. “Of course I will, Stevie. We can get comfy and lay together as long as you want.”

Visibly, Steve’s shoulders relaxed, and he nodded with an almost pleading expression, pulling at his brows and lips. “Yes, please? That sounds- snf! fantastic.” He lifted a towel corner to dab at his sensitive, red nostrils with a bit of a wince. “Ugh, ow.”

With a little purse of his lips, Eddie made a sympathetic noise. “Nose all raw?” he asked, reaching out to open the bathroom door so Steve could lead the way to his bedroom. “I didn’t think to get any Vaseline; sorry, sweetheart.”

“S’okay. This always happens when I get si-ihh…. Ihih-!” Halfway down the short hallway, Steve paused with one hand on the wall as his breath began to hitch and his eyes fluttered. “Oh no come o-ohhhhh-!” Eddie watched as Steve’s hand hovered in front of his face, expression utterly helpless and slack before suddenly exploding. “IX’TSH! HiISHHue! Snf! Ugh- sorry.”

A little chuckle came from Eddie, who just shook his head, “I am the last one you have to go apologizing to for sneezing.” He assured Steve and put a hand on his lower back as he followed him.

It didn’t take long for Steve to be dressed in some boxers and a sweatshirt since he was cold after his shower. Without even thinking about it, Eddie began pulling off his shirt and sat down on the bed to take off his shoes. The sudden sensation of fingers against his back made Eddie jump a little, and his head whipped around to find Steve tracing the dice tattoos along his spine.

“Like what you see, Harrington?” Eddie asked in amusement as he finally kicked off his shoes to lie down beside Steve. He wiggled out of his dark pants, which got tossed to the floor as well, leaving him in boxers. Most of his upper half was covered in tattoos at this point.

Some kind of sleepy slight hum came out of Steve, slightly congested again but not enough to hamper his speech yet. “They’re pretty. Your tattoos. Did you do them yourself?” He asked curiously, and his hand now strayed curiously over the large moth just below Eddie’s sternum.

Eddie adjusted himself to get the blankets wrapped around them both, making sure Steve was tucked in properly before tossing the blankets over his legs. “Some smaller ones, yeah. Because I’m an idiot. Don’t tattoo yourself, Stevie. I mean it.” There’s amusement and a warning, but he leans to press his lips to Steve’s forehead again. Both checking his temperature and enjoying the simple intimacy. “Chrissy did a lot of them. Gareth, one or two, actually.”

This time, the hum from Steve was more distant, and when Eddie looked, he saw the other man was nearly asleep, tucked against him. “Get some rest, sleeping beauty. You need it. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

Taking a deep, slow breath, Steve let out a long and decidedly sleepy sigh through his mouth. His nose was still a little too congested for such things. “Promise? You won’t leave?”

Something physically hurt inside Eddie to think once upon a time; Steve might’ve been in a similar spot, vulnerable and left completely alone when he didn’t want to be. “I’ll be here. I promise.” Eddie moved his hand to find one of Steve’s, interlocking their pinkies so he could squeeze the other man’s tight before bringing it up to kiss his knuckles. “I’m here, Steve.”

The reassurance was all he needed. Steve was out like a light, soft little congested snores sounding against Eddie’s shoulder as they cuddled beneath the blankets in the cozy queen-sized bed. And really… Eddie couldn’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be.

#ed/die mu/nson #st/eve ha/rrington #st/eddie #st/ranger th/ings #snzblr #snz #snzfic #bex's snz writing #snzfucker #tattoos and tissues #tw mess #tw inducing

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