#@thekinkyleopard

[yukiumisakura25]

A Coffee's Scent

AN: HAPPY BIRTHDAY GEEZIE! I saw your post about your birthday, and I just HAD to write out this Coffee Shop Fic! I could never NOT love Remi and Alistar! And Kanai is so cute with his little halo and hoodies omgfowen! I apologize in advance, I improvised abit on the likes and dislikes, and they might not respond to some conversations like they should, but I gave it my best! I hope you like it and HAPPY B-DAY!

Fandom: @aller-geez and @thekinkyleopard OC’s, none are mine.

CW: It’s messy, description of snot, sneezing, alittle bit of cock, and cussing.

Synopsis: Levi’s working at a coffee shop and Remi drops by to say hello. Too bad Alistar and Kanai do too, and Remi finds Alistar’s drink smells too strong.

“Welcome to Café La Luna, oh! Remi!” Levi beamed as he recognized it was his mate that had entered through the glass door.

“Hey Levi, told you I’d stop by. “He walked up to the counter, a small smirk on his face. It’s been three days since Levi started his part time job as a barista at the corner café shop near their place. After finally learning enough recipes and only breaking two mugs and three plates, the manager told Levi he would be working the morning shift by himself. Remi, being the encouraging and supportive boyfriend he is, decided to come visit his other half and prevent a nervous breakdown.

“I see the shop is still in one piece, that’s a good start.” Remi chuckled lightly. Levi gave a playful pout.

“Hardy Har Har. Are you going to order something, or just tease me the whole time.” He asked rhetorically. Before he could give his smart ass response, Remi was cut off by the door opening again. Levi looked past Remi and smiled again.

“Alistar! Kanai, hey!” Alistar and Kanai walked in, Alistar rocking a skin-tight long sleeve shirt with the words ‘Mommy’s Main Piece’ across his chest, and black skinny jeans. Kanai, in his dark purple hoodie, with the words in neon ‘Too Cute to Tame, Too Crazy to Care’ and light grey pants.

“Oh, what the fuck.” Remi growled under his breath, refusing to turn around. Alistar ‘s eyes lit up as he saw his favorite violent fiend.

“Is that Remi I see? I thought you didn’t leave the house until McDonalds stopped serving breakfast.” Alistar teased, moving closer to the ticking bomb. Remi tightened his fist, and snapped his head to Alister, glaring.

“What the fuck makes you think- no. Don’t answer that.” Remi whipped his head back at Levi, eyes asking for an explanation.

“Oh, I told Alistar about getting a part time job here.”

“And I just HAD to come and support my FRIEND.” Alistar spoke with a smug grin, knowing that he was pushing Remi’s buttons.

“I have also come to try your coffee and experience the ‘vibe’ of the coffee shop. Drae says it is a peaceful place to drink coffee and do work.” Kanai said raising a hand up slightly, reminding them he was still here.

“Speaking of, where is he? I’d figured he would’ve come too.” Levi asked curiously.

“He’s sleeping in, something about not waking him up before eight unless I want poison in my food.” Alistar spoke, amused. Kanai nodded agreeing to the statement.

“Drae is cranky when he wakes up early.” He deadpanned. Alistar scoffed.

“Cranky is an understatement. Anyway, coffee?”

“Of course! Yeah, I can do this. Right. Do you know what you want?” Levi asked, looking at the keypad, in preparation.

“What’s the strongest drink you have?” Alistar moved next to Remi, slightly pushing him out of the way to stand in front of Levi. Remi growled again, glaring hard with intent in his eyes.

“Hey, I was here first!” He spoke with a snarl. Levi looked at the keypad with focus, using his concentration on the menu in front of him.

“Um…a Blonde Roast Brewed Coffee. But the smell and taste are really strong, so I’d suggest some cream and sugar.” Levi said after reading the nutrition facts of the menu.

“Ill take one of those then, no sugar or cream with triple expresso.” Alistar said waving his hand.

“The fuck you will, I’m first!” Remi pushed Alistar out of the way and turned to Levi, taking a breath.

“I’ll just have a caramel latte.”

“Pussy.” Alistar fake coughed.

“Fuck you.” Remi growled, causing Levi to sigh.

“Both of you stop. Now, I’ll make yours first Remi. Kanai, do you know what you want?” Kanai looked in thought.

“I will also have a caramel latte, double caramel and 5 sugars and cream.”

“Okay great, two heart attacks coming up.” Levi took the payment from Remi first, then Alistar for the two drinks.

While they waited for their coffees, Remi did his best to ignore Alistar’s comments, as Kanai looked around the shop.

“Here Remi, I put in extra whip cream for you, free of charge.” Levi winked slyly, knowing he’s going to pay for that later at home. Remi smirked and touched Levi’s hand intentionally when he grabbed his drink.

“Thanks kitten.” His eyes promising another use of whip cream in the near future. Levi turned away, reminding himself he was at work.

“And my coffee?” Alistar asked leaning over the counter, looking bored out of his mind. And a bored Alistar is a dangerous Alistar.

“On it.” Levi quickly went to work on his order, as Alistar was rewarded with a glare from Remi. Levi prepared the beans and put them in the machine, the scent began messing with Remi’s nose. He discreetly sniffed and turned away from the two, sipping his drink as he watched Levi make Alistar’s cup. His nose crinkled as the smell was becoming stronger as the liquid filled the small mug. He used the sleeve of his hoodie to rub at his nose to fight off the irritation.

“You alright there sniffles?” Alistar’s voice cut into Remi’s thoughts, and he glared at the source. Alistar smirked, as if knowing what was irritating the green-eyed man.

“Here you go Alistar. Oh! And yours as well Kanai.” Levi gave them their mugs and the scent became stronger, setting off an itch in Remi’s nose.

“Heh. “Remi squashed his nose with his sleeve, giving Alistar a quick glare before looking away, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. Little did he know that Alistar caught on quick and would do anything to get what he wants.

And right now, that was to see Remi make a mess of himself.

“Oh, Levi, could you be a dear and please grab me abit of creamer please?” He asked slyly, keeping the steaming mug of black coffee between himself and Remi. Remi glared, his grip on his own mug tightening.

“Of course, here.” Levi grabbed some small creamers.

“Oh, and a few packs of sugar to, please.” He played it smoothly, his eyes never leaving Remi’s face.

“How about you take that slug and get heh- get the fuck heehh- the fuck away- hd’ISChh!” Remi kept his nose in his sleeve, feeling the spot becoming wet.

“And miss this show? Never.” Alistar gleamed.

“Donnie?” Kanai looked at him confused, noticing the creamers by his cup. Alistar never puts anything in his coffee. ‘I like my coffee black, like my soul.’ He recalls him saying.

“Not now Nai, the entertainment has just begun.” Alistar smirks. Remi tried to glare at him through teary eyes.

“F-fuck hhh’ISH’ih! He’IISHH! hehh-hEh’TXSSHEW!” Remi felt the snot coat his sleeve on that last sneeze, the congestion beginning to build up behind his sinuses as he tried to regain dignity and sniff back what he could. Kanai then made an ‘oooh’ face, understanding what his best friend was doing. He nodded and went back to his coffee, taking a seat nearby as the two others stayed by the counter.

“Need a napkin?” Alistar offered, moving much closer to him, a look of mischievous graced his face as he held out a single napkin. Remi snuffled a growl and snatched the napkin from him, burying his nose into it as he turned away.

“D-dambnit Hh’IISHH! Hd’ISCHhh! Huh’GDTS’ue! Heeeh- Hd’ISCHEW!” Remi moved further away from the two as he tried to contain the mess.

“I finally found the sugar packets! Sorry about the wait Al!” Levi ran over to them, holding a small box of newly opened sugar packets.

“That’s quite alright, I was just enjoying the scenery.” He spoke while pointing at Remi, who blew through that napkin, and now into his own hands. Levi frowned and grabbed some more napkins, running out from behind the counter towards Remi.

“Rems, are you okay?” He asked worried, holding the napkins out towards his poor boyfriend’s face. Remi groaned before another “Heh’ISCHhh” blew into what was left of the napkin.

“Kidden.” He snuffed, and Levi took that as his que that Remi was done. He slowly pulled Remi’s hands from his face, seeing the strings of snot connecting from his poor and abused red nose, his glistening wet lips, and the spray that hit the disintegrated napkin what was left in his hands.

“Oh, my poor baby. What set you off?” Levi cooed, taking the napkins and cleaning off Remi’s hands before working on his face gently. He had Remi’s back towards Al and Kanai, so they wouldn’t see him like this.

“The coffee smbell.” Remi looked annoyed. He took another napkin and blew his nose, clearing it of any left-over scent of that vile brew Alistar ordered.

“Really? Well, I guess the scent was pretty strong. Sorry about that.” Levi frowned. Holding a napkin to his nose Remi wrapped his arm around Levi.

“Don’t be, It pbut mbe in the mbood.” He pulled Levi in so he could feel how hard his cock was. Levi’s eyes reddened and he looked round, catching Alistar and Kanai’s eyes. He turned to Kanai with a pleading look. Kanai, taking the hint took Alistar’s shirt sleeve.

“Donnie, if we go right now, I’ll let you tie me to the bed and do whatever you want for 20 minutes. “Kanai haggled. Alistar turned his attention to him with a wide grin.

“Anything?” Kanai nodded and Alistar picked Kanai up over his shoulder and kicked the glass door open, shattering it.

“Well let’s go! Have fun you two!” He called out as he left with a dramatic run.

Well, Levi was probably going to get fired anyway. He grabbed Remi’s shirt and pulled him down into a kiss.

“Bathroom. Ndow.” Remi breathed out.

“Yes sir.”

~Plz Don’t Repost To Non-Snzfic Blogs~

[aller-geez]

If you're still looking for fic reqs could we maybe see either Remi hiding a horrible cold from Levi who is mad at him because he feels like he deserves it because he knows he's fucked up, or sick Elex in that scenario?

Hey there Nonny!

Here’s your fic with sick Remi hiding his cold from a pissed off Levi! ( @thekinkyleopard owns 🖤)

Hopefully this is what you were looking for, but I very much could have misinterpreted your request at the end, and if so I’m sorry 😭😭

Cold Shoulder

Written & illustrated by: allergeez ✨

Summary: Remi and Levi's relationship is tested after a heated argument leaves them emotionally distant and struggling to communicate. As Levi asks for space, Remi silently battles feelings of regret, isolation, and an increasingly severe illness that he hides from Levi. The tension between them grows deeper, characterized by silence and unspoken longing. Eventually, both must confront their fears and insecurities to bridge the emotional gap and rediscover the meaning of support and affection in their relationship. 5.4k words

Content Warnings:

Emotional conflict and interpersonal tension

Depictions of illness (fever, congestion, intense sneezing, coughing)

Themes of self-isolation and emotional neglect

References to anxiety, guilt, and depressive episodes

Explicit descriptions of sneezing and illness-related symptoms

“You never talk to me, Remi!” Levi’s voice cracked mid-sentence, part from anger, part from something far more fragile underneath.

Remi stood stiff in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, jaw tight. His shaggy black hair hung in his eyes, glowing green and dim—like low coals barely containing their heat. “I do talk to you, Levi. Just not in the way you want.”

“That’s not fair and you know it.” Levi’s hands trembled at his sides, fingers curled tight, like he was physically holding himself back from throwing something. “I ask you if something’s wrong and you brush me off. I try to check in, and you disappear into yourself until you think I’ll stop asking. You can’t keep shutting me out every time you get in your own head.”

Remi looked away, the muscle in his jaw ticking. “It’s better than dumping all my shit on you.”

“Oh, so now I’m just a liability? Thanks.”

“No, that’s not—” Remi ran a hand over his face, voice strained. “That’s not what I meant. I just… I didn’t want to make it worse. You’ve been stressed, and I didn’t want to add to it.”

Levi laughed, sharp and humorless. “You didn’t want to burden me? God, Remi, do you even hear how that sounds?”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was full—of everything neither of them was saying. The tension pressed against the walls, brittle and cold.

“I just need some space,” Levi said finally, softer now, but no less final. “Just for a while.”

Remi didn’t fight it.

He just nodded once, stiff and quiet, and stepped back out of the kitchen. The sound of his boots retreating down the hall was too loud in the silence that followed.

Levi stayed rooted to the tile, arms wrapped tightly around himself, already wondering if he was going to regret asking for that space.

Neither of them noticed the faint, stifled snfkk! Remi muffled into his sleeve as he disappeared into the dark.

The sun barely filtered through the heavy drapes of the living room, casting a pale, gray-tinted light across the floor. The space was quiet—too quiet—and far colder than it usually felt.

Remi stirred from the couch with a low groan, one arm draped over his eyes. He hadn't even bothered changing out of yesterday’s clothes. The hoodie clung to him, the collar damp with sweat, but even still, he couldn’t stop shivering.

His head throbbed, each pulse of pressure behind his eyes syncing up with the distant ringing in his ears. His throat felt scraped raw, and every breath through his nose came with a wet, reluctant snffkk.

He sniffled again, louder this time, and winced as the congestion refused to budge. He wiped his nose roughly on the sleeve of his hoodie and sat up slowly, the pounding in his skull intensifying the second he moved.

He blinked blearily at the empty space in front of him. Levi wasn’t there. Of course he wasn’t.

The echo of last night’s argument hovered at the edge of his thoughts, clearer now than it had been in the heat of the moment.

You never talk to me.
You shut me out.
You didn’t want to burden me?

Each word hit harder than the last. And now—on top of everything—his body had decided to fall apart too.

“Hhhuhh—hiiih’ISHHHh—uhH!! Snnffhh!”

The sneeze exploded from him with no time to catch it. He turned his head just barely, spraying into the open air with a helpless sniffle afterward.

His nose dripped instantly, and he scrambled for the tissue box on the coffee table, only to find it empty. He cursed softly under his breath, grabbing a wrinkled napkin from last night’s leftover takeout bag instead and blowing his nose into it with a miserable, wet honk.

He should tell Levi. He should say something.

But Remi just leaned back on the couch, eyes half-lidded and burning, and pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders.

Levi needed space. That’s what he’d asked for. And Remi wasn’t about to crawl back into their shared room coughing and sneezing like a kicked dog just for sympathy.

He already felt like a walking pile of regret. He could handle a little head cold.

Probably.

His stomach turned. His head pulsed. His sinuses burned. And his throat ached with every shallow swallow.

Totally fine.

“Hhhuhh—hehh… hh'IETSH’UE!! snfffffffhh— hhuhhhhh— HI’DTSCHIEW!”

The next two sneezes snapped him forward with force, and he slumped sideways, panting through his mouth, wiping his nose uselessly on the napkin again.

The space between him and Levi had never felt so wide.

Remi lay half-slumped against the arm of the couch, legs stretched out haphazardly, one arm draped over his aching stomach. The other hung limply at his side, fingers still clutched weakly around the crumpled napkin he’d already destroyed with half a dozen nose blows. He needed to get up—needed more tissues, water, anything—but he couldn’t make his body move.

His sinuses throbbed with a swollen, pressurized ache that refused to let him breathe properly. Every inhale through his nose whistled and gurgled, a disgusting symphony of congestion and rawness, but his mouth was too dry to keep doing all the work.

And worst of all… the sneezing. Or rather—the lack of sneezing.

That maddening tickle had nested deep inside his sinuses, clawing its way through every nerve ending, teasing and prickling at the edge of relief like a cruel joke. His nostrils twitched endlessly, his breath hitching in shallow, helpless gasps as the sensation threatened to crest again and again.

“Hhhuhh… hhihhh… hhh-hh’ihhh… snffkk!”

His head tilted back, eyelids fluttering, mouth parting with a soft, pre-sneeze whimper—only for the feeling to vanish at the last moment, like smoke slipping through his grasp.

He sniffled hard, the wet sound miserable and ineffective. “F-fuck’s sake,” he rasped, rubbing at his nose with the cuff of his hoodie, only for the tickle to flare again, sharp and urgent.

“Huhhh-hhhEHh’t—hhihhh!… hh-HHhuhh—snffhh… ughhhh…”

He hung there, trapped in a purgatory of near-release, his whole body tense and expectant, every breath shaky and unsatisfying. The prickling itch climbed back into place, crawling along the bridge of his nose and curling up beneath his sinuses like it knew what it was doing.

Then finally—finally—one slipped free.

“hhEhh-! HhEHh’iiTShh’iiEW! Snngkkt!!”

It was harsh, messy, uncontained. The force bent him forward at the waist, leaving a damp shimmer across the front of his hoodie and a ringing in his ears. It didn’t help. It didn’t clear anything.

Another swelled in its wake almost immediately. His breath hitched again, harder this time, chest rising sharply, muscles locking tight in anticipation.

“HhhUHhh... hhuhhh-HHhhuh—hh’IEHHHt’SHHHhhkk!! Hhuhhh-Hnkt'KNXTuhh!…snnrkkk…”

This one he tried to stifle, purely out of reflex—but the pressure in his head exploded behind his eyes like a hammer, and the stifle only made his skull throb harder.

He groaned aloud, dragging both hands up to cradle his forehead. His skin burned with fever, clammy and tight. Every nerve behind his sinuses pulsed like his body was punishing him for the build-up. And still... he could feel more hovering, teasing just out of reach.

His glowing green eyes were bleary now, dulled with exhaustion and thick tears he couldn’t wipe away fast enough. He swiped at his face with his sleeve again, damp and useless, but the tickle refused to stop. It lingered, wicked and insistent, burning just high enough to taunt but never low enough to let go.

“Snfhh… huhhh... h-hhuhhhHh… oh god—just—f-fucking sneeze already—hh’kKTSSCHhh!!”

He coughed afterward, deep and chesty, curling into himself with a moan. His hoodie clung to his overheated skin, his body trembling with the sheer exhaustion of fighting against every sneeze, every breath, every aching limb.

But still, he didn’t move.

He just sniffled again, throat dry and raw, and closed his eyes as he let his head fall back against the cushion.

Somewhere far away, he thought he heard the creak of the hallway floorboards. But it was probably just his own heartbeat pounding through his ears.

Remi had never been good at apologizing. Not with words, at least.

He wanted to say something. To fix the raw look that had been on Levi’s face the night of the fight. But every time he imagined walking into the room to try, all that came out was a rasped-up, barely intelligible grunt—and the bitter knowledge that Levi probably didn’t want to see him anyway.

So he gave Levi the space he’d asked for.

And if that space just so happened to involve Remi getting steamrolled by a brutal head cold, well... that was his own damn fault, wasn’t it?

He slept on the couch, curled into a ball far too small for his broad frame, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands like a kid trying to disappear. The blanket was too thin, the cushions too stiff, but he didn’t dare venture back to their shared bed. Not when he was this gross. Not when Levi still hadn’t looked him in the eyes since the fight.

The sneezes never came in ones. They dragged through him in doubles and triples, clawing up from deep in his sinuses, tearing through his chest, leaving him gasping and sniffling and soaked with fever sweat.

But Levi never heard them. Not once.

Remi made sure of that.

He’d press his face into a balled-up towel, practically biting down on it as the sneezes tore through him. When he needed to cough—which was often, wet and painful and rattling—he turned on the shower and let the water run, trying to time each fit between bursts of steam.

He flushed the toilet when he blew his nose. Opened the window in the kitchen when he heated soup, so the smell wouldn’t carry. Not that he could taste anything. His sense of smell had packed up and left two days ago.

Tissues were never left out in the open. He kept a stash rolled into the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie, pulling them out discreetly and stuffing the used ones deep down in the trash so Levi wouldn’t see.

When Levi passed him in the hallway—which was rare—Remi straightened up, cleared his throat, and offered a lazy “Hey.” Short. Normal. Cool.

Levi would nod, maybe say something neutral in return, then disappear into another room.

Good.

Better this way.

He didn’t need Levi worrying about him, not while he was still mad. He didn’t need pity. He didn’t want to force sympathy. He could take care of himself until Levi forgave him—or decided he wasn’t worth forgiving.

The hardest part wasn’t the sneezing, or the aching, or the fevers that left his skin clammy and his limbs too heavy to move. It wasn’t even the bone-deep fatigue that made walking down the hall feel like a hike through molasses.

It was the silence. The space. The absence of Levi’s voice in his day, of Levi’s fingers raking through his hair while they watched something dumb, of his laughter filling the corners of the house like sunlight.

He curled tighter on the couch and pressed his face into a cold pillow. His chest rattled with a breath he tried to keep quiet. His nose ran. His throat burned.

But still, he didn’t go to Levi.

He’d made his mess. Now he’d lay in it—and sneeze in it—until Levi was ready.

At first, the silence felt justified.

Levi had needed space—no, demanded it. And Remi, for once, hadn’t argued. He’d just backed off, cool and quiet, like he always did when the conversations got too deep or the feelings got too big.

At first, Levi told himself it was fine. He needed time to cool down, to think. To stop hearing Remi’s voice in his head with that infuriating mix of logic and avoidance.

But after a day, the silence didn’t feel empowering anymore. It felt empty.

He noticed it when he went to grab tea from the cabinet and realized Remi hadn’t touched the coffee in over 24 hours. Not once. Not even for a dramatic, sleepy entrance into the kitchen followed by his usual lazy grumbling about mornings.

He noticed it when he passed the bathroom and saw the light was on—but the door was closed, locked, and the sound of the shower running had been going for too long. Too quiet in between.

He noticed it when the couch cushions remained uneven, the blanket in the living room stayed rumpled for three days, and the familiar, low murmur of Remi’s favorite music didn’t echo through the floorboards.

And worst of all, he noticed it in Remi’s absence.

Not the physical kind—Remi was clearly here, somewhere. But emotionally? Remi had vanished.

He wasn’t showing up in Levi’s space. Wasn’t peeking into the kitchen with a smirk. Wasn’t making a half-hearted joke to break the tension, or pretending nothing had happened to coax a reaction out of him.

Remi was quiet.

And Remi was never quiet like this.

Levi curled his hands into the sleeves of his hoodie as he stood in the hallway, staring at the closed guest room door. His chest ached with something he didn’t want to name.

Had he pushed too hard? Said something too far?

He was angry—still angry—but now the silence didn’t feel like a boundary. It felt like punishment.

And it wasn’t Remi who was doing the punishing. It was himself.

Levi wiped his sleeve across his nose—dry, irritated—and exhaled shakily. His throat burned, but not from a cold.

He missed Remi. He missed his stupid, stubborn smirks and the way he curled his hand behind Levi’s neck when no one was looking. He missed his glow-in-the-dark eyes blinking sleepily over the lip of a coffee mug. He missed having someone there—even if they weren’t saying the right things. Even if they weren’t saying anything at all.

His eyes burned.

“God,” he whispered, swallowing hard. “What if I asked for space when he really needed me?”

The thought hit him like a stone to the chest.

Remi had a way of making himself invisible when he thought he was a problem. He’d done it before—physically there, emotionally tucked out of reach, like he was hiding behind a wall no one could climb.

It started with a sound.

A subtle one, muffled, easy to miss if he hadn’t been walking down the hall at just the right moment.

“Shhffhh—snrrkkk... snfffhh.”

Levi paused mid-step, brows drawing together. He turned his head slightly toward the bathroom door. It was closed—but not locked. The fan wasn’t on, and the sink wasn’t running.

He waited. Listened.

“Snfhhk.”

Another thick sniffle, like someone was trying to clear a nose too congested to budge. Then… silence.

Levi’s eyes narrowed.

He almost knocked. Almost called out.

But something held him back. He straightened, turned on his heel, and walked away instead, jaw tight. Guilt sulking, he told himself. He probably wants attention. Probably trying to make it look like he’s suffering just enough for sympathy, but not enough to be obvious. Classic Remi.

And yet...

Later that afternoon, while grabbing clean towels from the laundry room, he saw it: a single, crumpled tissue sitting on top of the washing machine. Not a paper towel. Not one of their backup napkins. A tissue.

Levi stared at it for a long moment.

He picked it up with two fingers, tossed it in the trash, and tried not to let it gnaw at him.

He passed Remi in the hall the next morning.

They hadn’t been making eye contact much—just awkward nods and brief, one-word exchanges—but Levi noticed, this time, that Remi’s hoodie sleeves were pulled down lower than usual. His shoulders were more hunched. His steps were slow, dragging like every movement took effort.

And just as Levi opened his mouth to say something—anything—Remi turned his head sharply to the side.

“Hhh’IISSHhh!… hHh’tSSCHuhh!”

Two violent, congested sneezes bent him at the waist before he could stop them. He stumbled, one hand bracing against the wall, the other pressed into the crook of his arm, shaking from the effort.

Levi froze.

Remi didn’t even look at him.

He just sniffled—wet and low—and muttered a broken, “S’cuse me,” before practically vanishing into the bathroom. The door clicked shut behind him, locked this time.

Levi stood there, heart pounding, throat dry.

That hadn’t been a man sulking.

That was someone sick. Really sick.

And he had let Remi suffer like that.

It started with a sound Levi couldn’t ignore.

He was halfway down the hallway, balancing a mug of tea in one hand, when he heard it—sharp, muffled, desperate.

“Hhh’IISSHHHhh’uhhh!!”

The force of it seemed to echo through the closed bathroom door, followed by a gasping inhale and another violent, stifled attempt at control that utterly failed.

“HHRR’tSCHHHuhhh—!!”

Levi froze, his brow furrowing, heart instantly kicking up a notch.

That wasn’t the quiet kind of sniffle he’d overheard earlier in the week. That was full-body, raw sneezing—unrestrained and pained.

He stepped closer to the door, listening.

“Snnkkggfffhh—huhh… Huh’GDSHHhh’ihh! hhuhhh-hhuh Hd’IZTSsHHhhh’-uhh!!”

Each one slammed through Remi with increasing desperation. There was no space between them—just breathless recovery before the next hit, as if holding back for so long had finally snapped something open.

Levi’s stomach turned.

The muffled, wet rustling of tissues came next. A groan. The scrape of something heavy against tile—maybe Remi slumping down to sit against the wall.

Then:

“hhuhhh’uhhHHH—hh’HGDSCHhh!! … hhuhh’DZSCHhhh!

—f-fuuhhck— hhuhh-hhehh’HhETSCHhhhuh!!”

Levi stepped up to the door and pressed his free hand against it gently.

“Rem?” he said, voice careful. Steady. “You okay in there?”

A long pause.

Then a croaked, soaked voice from the other side: “’M fine.”

It was laughable. He sounded like he was gargling gravel, breath catching, sinuses completely shot.

Levi’s throat tightened.

“You don’t sound fine,” he said softly. “Remi, open the door.”

There was a shuffling noise, followed by a congested, miserable cough and the telltale flutter of a tissue being torn from the box. Then another thick blow.

“I—snfkkk—didn’t wadda... y-you were mbad,” came Remi’s hoarse, barely audible voice. “Didn’t want you to see me like this.”

Levi closed his eyes, pressing his palm harder to the door. “You’ve been hiding this for days?” he whispered, not trusting his voice to stay even.

“I was trying not to bother you,” Remi said again, but his breath was already hitching helplessly.

“hhHhh’IEHH’TSSCHHhh!—ehh’GKTSSHHhhue! huhhh-uhhh—hhNTSCH’uhh!”

The rhythm of the fit stole any chance at conversation. It was pure reflex now, violent and constant, and Levi could hear the misery radiating from the other side of the wood.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Okay,” he murmured, stepping back. “That’s enough.”

He gave the door a gentle knock. “I’m going to get the humidifier, some meds, and a fresh box of tissues,” he said, voice warm but insistent. “When I come back, I’m sitting on the other side of this door until you open it. You don’t have to say anything. Just let me in when you’re ready.”

There was a pause. Another congested breath. A small sniffle. And then—so quietly Levi almost missed it:

“…Kay.”

Levi exhaled shakily and turned, moving down the hall with purpose—but his heart ached with every step.

Remi hadn’t just been sick.

He’d been hiding.

And Levi had missed every single sign.

Remi sagged against the cold tile wall, the sleeves of his hoodie soaked at the cuffs, his breath coming in hot, shallow pants. The tissue in his hand had completely disintegrated at this point—too many sneezes, too wet to be of any use—and the trash can beside him was overflowing with a nest of damp, crumpled extras.

He hadn’t meant for Levi to hear him.

Hadn’t meant to lose it like that, trapped in the bathroom, no longer able to muffle the sneezes that kept tearing out of him like they were trying to drag his ribs out with them.

“hhuh- -hd’ISCHhh!! -h’dtTISHh! hhh’ISCHih! !! Snrkkkkff— hhuhh’TSSCHHh-uhh!”

The last one doubled him over, nearly knocked his head against the sink. He braced one arm against the counter, the other shielding his nose as another sneeze clawed up fast behind it.

“HhhiIHH— HI’DTSCHIEW!!! Huhh- hhuhhh… hHAHH’IKKTsh—uhh!!!”

His head swam. Each sneeze left him reeling, gasping, the congestion in his sinuses thick and relentless—like every blow should’ve cleared it, but none ever did.

His nose burned. His eyes watered constantly, not from tears but from sheer overstimulation. And his throat—god, his throat—felt like it had been scraped raw with sandpaper.

He sniffled hard, a sharp, wet sound that only half-worked, and hissed softly as it made the pressure behind his eyes throb. He wiped under his nose with the heel of his palm, vaguely aware of how gross he probably looked, but too tired to care. He caught his reflection in the mirror and winced.

His hair clung to his face in damp strands, cheeks flushed dark red against pale skin. His nostrils were pink and chapped from friction. Even his eyes looked dim, the usual radioactive glow dulled to a tired glimmer beneath heavy lids.

He was a mess. A stupid, stubborn, sneezy mess.

And Levi had heard it now. All of it.

Remi groaned, burying his face in the crook of his elbow as another fit clawed through his sinuses with ruthless precision.

“hhuhh—IHH’EKTSHHHhh!… hhuhhh… h-hh—hEhTXSSHhh’ih!!! snfhhk— hhuhh’ESSHHHuhhh!”

They just kept coming.

He couldn’t even finish a damn thought without another hitting him like a truck. Every word he might’ve said—“I’m sorry,” maybe, or “I didn’t mean to shut you out,” or “I missed you”—was swallowed in the sharp, helpless rhythm of his own body breaking down.

He slumped to the floor again, hoodie pulled tighter around him, body still quivering with post-sneeze tremors.

Remi’s hand trembled as he reached for the lock.

His body ached. His sinuses were an active warzone, and the effort of just getting upright again had left him winded. But through the misery fogging his thoughts—through the congestion, the heat, the rawness of his throat—he could still feel Levi’s presence just outside the door.

Quiet. Patient. Still there.

He leaned against the cool wood for a second, forehead pressing gently against it, and let out a slow, ragged breath through his mouth. Then, with a soft click, he turned the knob.

The door creaked open.

Levi was seated right there in the hallway, back against the wall, legs crossed, a glass of water in one hand and a box of tissues balanced on his lap. He looked up immediately—and whatever expression had been on his face softened into something unspoken the second he saw Remi.

Remi didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. His voice was shredded, and the lump in his throat wasn’t all from the cold.

Levi rose to his feet slowly, setting the water and tissues aside.

His eyes moved over Remi—taking in the sweat-dampened hair, the flushed cheeks, the hoodie sleeves bunched around trembling fists, the completely ruined look on his face—and his jaw tightened slightly.

Not with anger. With hurt.

“Remi…” he whispered, voice thick. “God, you look—” He stopped himself and stepped forward, hands open, not touching, not assuming. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Remi blinked slowly, eyelids heavy and aching. He opened his mouth to respond, but all that came out was a small, helpless sound as his breath hitched again—an apology derailed by another building sneeze.

“hhuhh-hhhHhh… ihH’ktdSHhh!!! ! hHI’DTSCHIEW!—snfffh!”

He managed to turn away just in time, half-catching it in his already-damp sleeve before groaning and sagging against the doorframe.

That did it.

Levi stepped in, wordlessly slipping an arm around Remi’s waist to steady him, the other coming up to cradle the back of his neck.

“Come on,” he said softly. “You’re burning up. Let’s get you to the couch.”

Remi didn’t argue. Couldn’t. He just let Levi guide him, leaning into his touch like gravity demanded it. His legs ached. His nose was still running. His chest felt like it had splintered from the inside out. And yet, for the first time in days, something inside him began to settle.

The guilt still burned. But Levi was here.

Helping him stand. Holding him up.

And somehow, that was enough to let the walls fall.

He sniffled again, thick and miserable, and croaked softly, “I’b sorry.”

Levi’s eyes were already shining when he turned to look at him.

“I know,” he whispered. “But you don’t have to hide when you’re hurting, Rem. Especially not from me.”

Levi eased Remi down onto the couch like he was handling something fragile.

Which, honestly… he was.

The wolf’s usual strong, confident frame looked so much smaller curled into the cushions—his hoodie swallowed his shoulders, his flushed face was slack with exhaustion, and his glow-dimmed green eyes barely stayed open.

Levi tucked a blanket over him, gently adjusting it to cover Remi’s legs and half his torso, then reached over to pluck the tissue box off the coffee table and set it within easy reach.

Remi groaned softly and shifted, letting his head loll against the armrest. He looked completely and utterly wrecked. His hair was sweat-damp and tangled, his cheeks were glowing red under pale skin, and his nose was raw and twitching, never quite calming for more than a few seconds.

Levi knelt beside the couch and ran a hand through Remi’s messy black hair, combing it back from his forehead, then pressed the backs of his fingers against his burning skin. “You’re so feverish Acushla,” he murmured, his voice full of gentle exasperation. “You poor thing.”

“Snffhhk—d-dod’t say it like that…” Remi croaked, attempting a smirk that collapsed halfway in.

Levi chuckled under his breath. “What? Like you’re not pitiful right now?”

Remi sighed miserably and gave a congested sniffle. “Feels like… there’s a drill press… behi’d by eyes…”

“Your sinuses?” Levi asked, already sitting down on the edge of the couch cushion near Remi’s chest. “Cheekbones feel tight?”

“Yeah…” Remi breathed, his voice fading to a whimper. “They’re… throbbi’g. And that damnb tickle—snrggkk—wod’t leave. Feels like I’b godda sdeeze every five seco’ds…”

Levi gave him a warm, knowing look and reached up with both hands, thumbs poised just under Remi’s cheekbones.

“May I?” he asked softly.

Remi blinked at him blearily, caught off guard by the offer. “You… wadda bassage by face?”

Levi smiled. “Light pressure helps relieve sinus pressure. I read about it when I had that awful spring cold, remember? Plus…” He tilted his head with a soft look. “Might take the edge off that stubborn tickle, yeah?”

Remi let out a groggy, congested snort that was half a laugh. “God, you’re a derd.”

“You love that I’m a nerd,” Levi said, then leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Remi’s burning temple before gently beginning to rub small, slow circles beneath his cheekbones with the pads of his thumbs.

Remi melted.

The sigh that left him was deep and shaky, like he’d finally been able to release some hidden tension. “That’s… hhhnnnh—snfffhh—really dice…”

Levi kept the motion slow, mindful. “Just breathe through it, okay?” he whispered, watching Remi’s eyelids flutter.

The wolf’s breath kept hitching, his poor nose trembling beneath Levi’s fingers. But with the gentle pressure, the sneezing urge began to fade, retreating just slightly from the edge. His brows unknotted. His shoulders sank.

“Better?” Levi murmured.

“…Yeah,” Remi breathed, voice raspy but sincere. “Still gross, but like… slightly less cursed.”

Levi laughed softly and leaned down to nuzzle into his hair. “You’re my gross,” he murmured. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Remi let his eyes close fully, sinking deeper into the couch as Levi continued the massage, his fingers warm, precise, and full of care.

For the first time in days, the ache behind Remi’s face finally eased.

And with Levi’s hands on his skin, whispering sweet nonsense under his breath, Remi didn’t feel sick and alone.

He just felt loved.

Remi’s face felt like it was made of steam and static and ache, but Levi’s touch… it was Magik.

The slow circles of his thumbs under Remi’s cheekbones were gentle but firm, chasing the pressure away little by little. And Levi knew exactly where to press—how to angle his thumbs to ease the throbbing behind his sinuses without making the lingering tickle in his nose worse again.

Remi didn’t even realize he was breathing through his nose for the first time in hours.

Levi didn’t stop the gentle pressure behind Remi’s cheekbones until he felt the other man’s body begin to truly relax. It wasn’t dramatic—just a gradual uncoiling of tension. The subtle slump of his shoulders. The slight parting of his lips as he began to breathe deeper, slower, the fight draining out of him like the fever had finally loosened its grip.

Remi’s lashes fluttered against the tops of his flushed cheeks, and a sleepy, hoarse sound escaped his throat—a noise halfway between a sigh and a congested hum.

Levi smiled faintly, brushing his thumb along the corner of Remi’s nose where it twitched slightly.

“Still itchy?” he whispered.

Remi didn’t answer. Not with words.

Just a faint sniffle, a slow blink, and the barely-there shake of his head before he tucked himself deeper under the blanket with a gravelly mutter of, “Jus’ keep touchin’ my face… s’nice…”

Levi chuckled under his breath and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the edge of Remi’s jaw. “Yeah, yeah,” he murmured. “You’re lucky I’m a sucker for a sneezy disaster.”

A breathy huff of laughter escaped Remi—half-asleep now, barely there.

His body slackened into the couch. His lashes fluttered. His glowing green eyes, dulled by fever and exhaustion, finally closed.

He heard Levi's voice, soft and soothing and close, somewhere above him. “That’s it. Just rest. I got you, Acushla.”

Remi huffed a weak, stuffy breath that sounded like the ghost of a chuckle. “You always say that…”

“Because it’s always true,” Levi murmured, brushing a few stray strands of black hair from Remi’s damp forehead. He grabbed a tissue and gently wiped the edges of Remi’s nose with that same steady touch, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Remi didn’t even protest.

His pride was too tired.

His nose twitched again, and for a second, Levi thought he might be about to sneeze, but instead Remi just let out a soft, congested sigh, lips parting slightly as he finally allowed his body to give in to rest.

Levi tucked the blanket higher up around him and adjusted one of the throw pillows beneath Remi’s head. He watched the wolf’s breathing even out, slow and rhythmic, broken only by the occasional snuffly exhale or faint, unconscious sniffle.

The warm humidifier Levi had set up earlier hissed quietly in the corner, mist curling into the air like a lullaby.

Levi sat beside him on the couch, one arm gently draped along the top so his fingers could still trail through Remi’s shaggy hair. He didn’t speak. He didn’t move.

He just stayed.

Every now and then, Remi’s brow would crease in his sleep, and Levi would run a knuckle along his jaw until it smoothed out again. Every few minutes, Remi let out a hoarse little cough, and Levi would whisper, “It’s okay,” even if Remi couldn’t hear it.

He didn’t need to. He’d feel it.

The fight, the silence, the guilt—none of it mattered.

Levi reached for the cool glass of water he’d brought earlier and set it on the coffee table within reach. Then he tugged off his hoodie, draped it gently over Remi’s chest, and eased himself down onto the narrow space of the couch beside him.

It wasn’t graceful. Remi grumbled a little as Levi carefully maneuvered until his head found a place on Levi’s shoulder, tucked under his chin, arms still folded tight around the blankets.

Levi smoothed his fingers through the tangled, sweat-damp hair at the nape of Remi’s neck.

“Sleep, Rem,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

And this time… Remi did.

His breathing evened out, still a little snuffly, still punctuated by the occasional congested snore, but peaceful. Content. Safe.

Levi stayed awake a while longer, one hand in Remi’s hair, the other resting lightly over his blanket-covered chest, feeling the slow, warm rhythm of his mate’s heartbeat beneath his palm.

Maybe he hadn’t been there right away.

But he was here now.

And he wasn’t going anywhere.

The End ✨

[iwanttoleavethisblankbuticant]

little fanfic of Remi cause I’m obsessed.

Remi is @aller-geez’s character and Levi is @thekinkyleopard’s character. (I think. There’s a chance that’s flipped. Idk cause my brain is mush rn). I do not own any character’s mentioned in this fic, they are not my oc’s. This fic is based of this post from @aller-geez here (idk if this link works or not. It should bring you to her POV post but it might just bring you to her profile. I’m to tired to mess with it tbh.)

TW: illness, male x male, sneezes (barely any. There’s like three. My brain is really not cooperating), swearing? I honestly don’t remember but there probably is, and there is slight amounts of mess but not anything excessive.

anyway I hope this turned out alright. I’m not the best at writing but I’m trying lol.

fic after the cut:

The whole gang had decided to go on a trip to… well there wasn’t really a destination. They were all just going. It was truly mostly Levi’s idea. And with Levi so hyped for it, Remi just couldn’t say no to his kitten. So, somewhat begrudgingly, Remi went along with his mate’s and his mate’s friend’s idea of a group road-trip, despite the fact that Remi could feel sickness building in his sinuses. 

That speeds us up to now, where Remi sat on his hotel bed next to his beloved mate who was fast asleep as he had driven the group down here through the night. Remi look at Levi as he slept peacefully and juggled with the idea of waking him and asking him to go to the store and pick up some things to help his steadily declining condition. But as he saw his kitten getting his first traces of desperately needed sleep, he couldn’t bring himself to wake Levi. So with a sigh that sounded so scratchy that it was no longer recognizable as a sigh, Remi rose and slipped out of his hotel room and walked down the hall to your room. He went to you for many reasons: he could somewhat tolerate your existence (to an extent), you had a room to yourself so that would minimize the amount of people who got to see him vulnerable, your room was far away from Al’s so he didn’t risk that perverted bastard getting off to his misery, and you suffered from allergies so you were likely to have desperately needed tissues. 

The more he walks to your room, the more he wishes he had woken Levi. But he’s pretty much sealed his fate at this point. He knows he looks like shit, eye bags dark swollen and tinged red near the eye and bruise purple near his cheek, his skin paler then normal, sweat on his brow causing his baby hairs to cling to his clammy forehead. But worst of all, in his opinion, was the terrible unceasing itch in his sinuses. It caused him to hitch and hitch but it refused to manifest into an actual sneeze yet also refused to stop plaguing him. Plus it caused his nose to run like a faucet, and with no tissues in sight he kept having to wipe his runny appendage on the collar or sleeve of his shirt. 

Soon he finds himself at your door, he didn’t quite know how long he’d been standing there since he zoned out thinking about how utterly ridiculous this is going to be. Just walking up to someone he only knows through his boyfriend hotel door and begging for tissues after practically ignoring this individual’s existence up until now. But with an aggravated sigh Remi knocks on your door. 

Remi is surprised when the door swings open almost immediately but he quickly looks off to the side and forces his expression to be neutral. 

"Aye. You got any tissues?" Remi asks, trying to ignore the tickle in the back of his nose

"Levi’s asleep" Remi adds, feeling the need to explain further when met with silence. Though the statement doesn’t do much to explain with no context. But it makes sense in Remi’s fever clouded brain

"Ooookayy?" You mumble, opening your door more for Remi to come in. 

Remi shakes his head no as you motion for him to come in.

"Nah, just hiiiheh’… just give me some tissues and I’ll be on my way. I’m not here for chit chat" Remi says, stoping just before say ‘I’m not here for chit chat with a stranger’. He didn’t figure calling someone he technically knew of as a stranger would help him get tissues any faster. And he definitely needed tissues and soon because that little tickle in the back of his sinuses had decided that now, in front of someone he wasn’t the most fond of, he really needed to sneeze. And he could feel the amount of mucus in his sinuses and he didn’t want to be caught with no tissues when this tickle turned into a sneeze.

You cock an eyebrow as his breath hitches mid sentence but you can piece together why he’s in such a rush to get tissues as his breath hitches and his nose leaks. So you trudge into you hotel room, grab the whole box of tissues, and press them to Remi’s chest.

"Here, take care." You say, then you shut your door, sensing he wants to go back to his hotel room as quickly as possible so he can curl up next to his mate. 

As the tissues are pressed into his grasp and you promptly leave, Remi realizes that maybe your not that bad. You either A: picked up on the fact he did not want to be here, or B: you didn’t want him here to begin with. But something told Remi that it wasn’t the last option. 

So with a faint, unseen smile, Remi turns to walk back to his own temporary quarters. But immediately that itchy tickle in the back of his sinuses reared it’s head. 

His nose flairs as he fumbles to grab a tissue. Then he manages to his his fingers around it just as his brows furrow together. Then with one more breathy inhale, Remi buries his abused nose into the tissue and pitches forward with three large sneezes that make his head spin.

"Hii’ Hetchuu’iew! Hitttchiiew! Hetsheew! Snerrf!" 

From inside your hotel room your could hear Remi’s wet, desperate, and sickly sneezes. The walls were thin so you said a quick "bless you" that Remi was able to hear through the walls. 

Remi blushes slightly out of embarrassment, adding to his feverish flush. Then he makes a mental note to tell Levi of his encounter with you. With that, and a box of tissues, Remi retreats to his mate, cuddling up to him as soon as he can slip under the covers beside him.

[m1lo0o]

@aller-geez @thekinkyleopard

IVE BEEN READING AND LOOKING AT ALL OF YOUR GUYS’ ART AND WRITING AND JUST…OH MY GOD…ALISTAR HAS BEEN MY FAVORITE FOR A LONG TIME BUT I’VE JUST NEVER BUILT THE COURAGE TO POST ANYTHING CUZ THIS KINK EMBARRASSES ME BUT LIKE- DAMN. I JUST HAD TO POST THIS..🥹

I REALLY LOVE ALISTAR AND I MADE A PLAYLIST OF SONGS HE WOULD PROBABLY LISTEN TO…(in my opinion since i don’t know any of your music tastes.😭)

I TRIED MY BEST THOUGH AND I HOPE YOU GUYS MAYBE SEE THIS…🤟😎

[aller-geez]

I’ve been in my Svelex feels lately and I had to draw this slightly self indulgent Sven allergy tease 🫣

Elex belongs to @thekinkyleopard as always 🩶

[m1lo0o]

@thekinkyleopard @aller-geez ‼️‼️

I TRIED TO DRAW BIZ BUT THE MARKINGS ON HIS NECK WERE WHAT I STRUGGLED WITH☠️

THERE WASNT ENOUGH ART OF THIS UNDERRATED MAN SO I DECIDED TO MAKE A LATE CHRISTMAS GIFT FOR U BOTH (and since new years is today i decided it can be that too🫠)

ENJOY!!! LOVE BOTH OF YOUR WORK SM😭

[aller-geez]

Oooo could we maybe get a(nother) follow up to the S7en fic with Elex catching S7en's sickness and hiding it so he doesn't get his bf all worked up and worried because his lungs are still a little sensitive?

Hey there Nonny!

Be careful what you wish for…. 😏 the fluff in this one makes me melt I cannot lie 😫

Asphyxia (pt 3)

(Oxygen, or part 1 can be found here, and Breathless, Again or part 2 can be found here)

written and illustrated by: allergeez ✨ @thekinkyleopard owns Elex 🖤

Summary: Elex wakes up knowing something is wrong. His body is sluggish with fever, his head pounding, but none of that matters—because S7en is finally home. Finally safe. After everything he’s been through, the last thing Elex wants is to burden him with something as insignificant as a cold. So he does what he does best: he pushes through it. He hides the exhaustion, swallows every cough, and forces himself to act normal. But sickness isn’t something you can just will away. As his condition worsens, it becomes harder to keep up the act—especially with someone as observant as S7en. The problem is, S7en has only just begun to recover, and if he gets sick again, Elex isn’t sure he could live with himself. What starts as a stubborn attempt to tough it out spirals into something heavier—fear, control, guilt—emotions Elex doesn’t want to acknowledge but can’t seem to escape. But S7en isn’t an idiot, and the more Elex pulls away, the more determined he becomes to figure out what’s wrong. And when he does? Well, Elex might not be the only one who’s pissed. 7.2k words

Content Warnings!:

Illness & fever (coughing, congestion, sneezing, general flu-like symptoms)

Mild medical anxiety & contamination fears (hand-washing, mild germophobia, references to past illness trauma)

Emotional suppression & avoidance (characters struggling to ask for/accept help)

Mild language (casual swearing)

Physical exhaustion & overexertion

Elex knew from the second he woke up that something was wrong.

His head throbbed in a slow, punishing rhythm, a heavy weight pressing behind his eyes like a vice tightening inch by inch. His limbs felt sluggish, his body leaden, overheated—but not in the comfortable, lazy way that came with sleeping too long. No, this was different. This was wrong.

Still, he forced himself upright, biting back a low groan as the dull ache in his throat flared into something sharp and raw. His skin prickled with fever, the air in their apartment thick and stifling, but there was no time for this. No room for it. Not now.

Not after everything S7en had just been through.

Elex scrubbed a hand down his face, exhaling slowly, forcing his expression into something neutral before glancing to the other side of the bed. S7en was still asleep, his teal and orange hair a mess against the pillow, his breathing shallow but steady. No more oxygen masks. No more hospital rooms. Just him, here, home, safe.

And there was no way in hell Elex was about to let him worry about this.

So he swallowed against the rawness in his throat, pushed past the fatigue clawing at his limbs, and carefully—carefully—slipped out of bed without a sound.

His body screamed at him the second his feet hit the floor. A fresh wave of dizziness crashed into him, nausea twisting in his gut, but he gritted his teeth and powered through. Mind over matter. He’d been through worse.

S7en stirred slightly but didn’t wake.

Good.

The last thing he needed was the cat noticing.

Because S7en, stubborn as he was, had barely recovered. His lungs were still weak, his body still too frail, and if he caught even a whiff of Elex being sick, there would be no stopping him. He’d hover, fuss, get in his own damn head about it, and the last thing Elex wanted was for him to stress over him when he should have been focusing on himself.

So Elex shoved it down. The ache in his chest, the burning tickle creeping into his sinuses, the sharp stutter of his breath—he ignored it. He was fine. He’d be fine.

He just had to make sure S7en never found out.

And if that meant hiding every cough behind a clenched jaw, stifling every sneeze into the fabric of his hoodie, and downing enough painkillers to pretend his fever wasn’t steadily climbing?

So be it.

The first real warning sign came when Elex went to make coffee.

He had barely poured water into the machine when a violent shiver ripped through him, sending ice-cold prickles down the length of his spine. The air in the kitchen suddenly felt too thin, the light from the window too sharp, slicing into his headache like a knife. He braced himself against the counter, swallowing hard as his stomach twisted, fever heat coiling tight in his chest.

No. No, no, no. Not now. Not today.

He sucked in a slow, measured breath, rolling his shoulders, willing himself back into control. He’d dealt with worse. This was nothing. Just a little exhaustion, a little lingering chill from sleeping without a blanket. He just needed coffee. Caffeine would fix this.

Except—

His nose twitched.

The tickle was sudden, sharp, rising out of nowhere like a spark catching dry grass, flaring hot and fast. His breath hitched—once, twice—his head snapping forward before he could fight it.

“H’UTSSCHHhiew!! Hh—h’UHDTschhiew! Hh’uhSSCHHIHHeewww!”

The force of them knocked him forward, rattling in his chest, leaving his vision swimming and his throat burning like he’d just swallowed glass. He barely had time to straighten before another overtook him, tearing from deep in his lungs—

“hdt’USSCHHIEWW!!!”

Shit.

The sound echoed through the apartment, too loud, too obvious. His stomach dropped as he held perfectly still, pulse thudding in his ears, waiting for movement from the bedroom.

Nothing.

No footsteps. No sleepy voice calling his name.

S7en was still asleep.

Elex exhaled slowly, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead, feeling the fever radiating under his skin. He hated this. The congestion, the heat, the way his nose itched relentlessly, teasing him with another sneeze he refused to let out.

And worst of all? The knowledge that he was contaminated.

The very thought made his skin crawl. He could already feel it, the invisible filth clinging to his skin, coating his throat, tainting the air around him. He needed to shower. He needed to scrub his hands, burn his hoodie, fumigate the entire apartment—

But he couldn’t.

Because the second he acted too clean, too frantic about disinfecting everything in sight, S7en would know.

He was already walking a razor’s edge, trying to act normal while his body actively worked against him. If he so much as glanced at a bottle of disinfectant too long, S7en would sniff him out like the suspicious little feline bastard he was.

No. He had to play it cool. Hide this.

S7en had just barely clawed his way out of pneumonia, and his lungs were still weak. If Elex so much as breathed wrong around him, he could get sick again. And that? That wasn’t an option.

So Elex squared his shoulders, forcing the tension from his body, and grabbed a paper towel, swiping aggressively at his nose before moving to make breakfast.

He’d get through this.

He had to.

S7en had gotten used to waking up to Elex next to him. Even when they were both exhausted, even when life was kicking their asses, Elex was always there—half-awake, chewing on something plastic, grumbling about the sun being a “rude little bitch” before slumping into him for five extra minutes of warmth.

But today?

The bed was empty.

The sheets were cold.

S7en frowned, sitting up slowly, still groggy from sleep, his chest tightening with something uneasy.

Elex wasn’t in bed.

Elex was always in bed when S7en woke up.

He ran a hand through his hair, blinking away the haze in his vision before glancing toward the door. The apartment was quiet—too quiet. No sound of Elex shuffling through the fridge, no muttered cursing as he nearly tripped over their shoes by the door, no telltale sound of his knuckles tapping the counter absently like they always did in the mornings.

The silence felt... wrong.

Dragging himself up, S7en swung his legs over the edge of the bed, pushing to his feet with a slow exhale. His body was still weak—he hated it—but he was getting better. He was supposed to be better.

So why did it feel like something else was falling apart?

He found Elex in the kitchen, already dressed, already moving, wiping down the counter like he was trying to erase something only he could see.

S7en leaned against the doorway, watching for a moment before speaking.

"You left me alone," he muttered, voice still rough with sleep.

Elex stiffened.

It was quick, barely there, but S7en caught it.

The hesitation. The delay before answering.

"Yeah," Elex said, too casual, too quick. "Figured I’d let you sleep. You need rest, y’know, what with the dying and all."

S7en rolled his eyes, but the joke didn’t land the way it should have.

Because Elex still wasn’t looking at him.

And for the first time in a long time, S7en felt alone.

But he swallowed it back as much as he could, shuffling into the kitchen with his usual groggy irritation, hoodie sleeves hanging past his fingers, glasses sliding down his nose. His orange eyes were still hazy with sleep, his tail dragging lazily behind him as he blinked toward Elex with a tired squint. He was barefoot, which Elex immediately clocked as a problem.

The floor wasn’t clean enough.

Not for bare skin. Not for someone who had just gotten out of the hospital, lungs still too weak, body still too fragile.

Elex’s hands twitched toward the disinfectant spray, but he forced himself to grip his coffee mug instead, knuckles white.

Just act normal.

"Why the hell are you up first?" S7en muttered, voice rough with leftover congestion.

Elex smirked, masking the way his stomach clenched at the reminder of just how recently S7en had been this sick. "Had to make sure my dumbass boyfriend didn’t wake up and start licking the walls again."

S7en squinted at him.

"That happened once."

Elex huffed a laugh, lifting his coffee to his lips—

And that was his mistake.

The heat hit his throat, scalding against the rawness he’d been trying to ignore, and the tickle in his throat that had been lurking for hours suddenly flared up hard and fast.

His breath hitched.

His lungs clenched.

No, no, no—

Elex barely had time to turn his head, fist clenched against his mouth, before the cough tore out of him, rough and deep and impossible to hide.

The sound of it made his own skin crawl.

And worse?

S7en froze.

For a long, horrible second, the kitchen was silent.

Then—

"What the fuck was that?"

Elex gritted his teeth, forcing his face neutral, the heat of his fever making the air feel thick, suffocating.

"Swallowed wrong."

S7en’s ears flicked.

He was watching him now.

Fully aware, pupils narrowing in that calculating way Elex hated.

"You sure?"

Elex shrugged, already turning toward the sink to pretend to rinse his mug.

"Yep."

S7en didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

Elex could feel the weight of his stare, feel the way his lungs wanted to wheeze, feel the next cough curling in his chest like a live wire.

Don’t let him see. Don’t let him hear.

He held his breath.

Held still.

And after an excruciating moment—

S7en grunted, finally moving toward the coffee pot.

Elex exhaled slowly, trying to ignore the way his hands had started shaking.

But the second S7en stepped closer, the air shifted.

It was subtle, just the smallest tilt of his nose, the faintest flick of his ears—barely noticeable to anyone else. But Elex knew. He knew.

S7en smelled it.

He always did.

Elex felt a fresh pulse of panic claw up his spine. If that damn cat caught so much as a whiff of this—

"Something smells weird."

Elex tensed.

"Like—" S7en sniffed the air again, his nose scrunching. "Not bad, just…off."

Fuck.

"Yeah?" Elex muttered, keeping his voice lazy, unconcerned. "Probably just your own breath. You were mouth-breathing like an asshat all night."

S7en scowled, flicking his tail at him in irritation, and Elex almost relaxed.

Then—

S7en tilted his head, squinting harder. His pupils dilated slightly. His ears twitched forward.

The exact fucking look he got whenever he was about to figure something out.

Elex’s entire body went on high alert.

Because if S7en knew? If he caught on?

Elex would be done.

So he did the only thing he could do—he faked a yawn, stretched dramatically, and turned away.

"Ugh, I need to piss," he announced, already heading toward the bathroom.

S7en made a vague noise of acknowledgment, clearly not fully awake yet, but Elex didn’t give him time to press further.

He was gone before S7en could dig his claws into the situation.

Elex shut the bathroom door behind him, locked it, and immediately braced his hands against the sink, breathing hard.

He had seconds before another sneeze hit.

His nose burned, his sinuses prickling unbearably, every breath quivering with the inevitable. He scrambled for a handful of tissues just as his chest hiked—

"Hh'UMFShhhiew!—h'Ushh'iew!—hh’ieXSHHHh!!"

The force of them wrecked him, leaving him gasping against the counter, fever heat pulsing under his skin. He grabbed the faucet, cranking the water to the highest heat, and scrubbed his hands raw, fingers digging into his palms like he could scrape away the sickness itself.

Not clean. Not clean. Not clean.

He squeezed his eyes shut, inhaling slow, steady.

No more. No more sneezing. No more anything.

He was fine. He had to be fine.

He couldn’t let S7en know.

Not now.

Not ever.

Elex leaned heavily against the counter, his breath coming in uneven gasps as he forced himself upright. The heat of the water scalded his hands, the sting grounding him, but it wasn’t enough. The sickness was still there, clawing at his throat, pressing against his skull, burning beneath his skin. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the dizziness to pass, willing his body to just cooperate.

Minutes passed. Maybe more. He wasn’t sure.

Eventually, the tremors in his hands eased enough for him to shut off the faucet, but the unease lingered—coiled tight in his chest like a cable ready to snap. He needed to move, to shake the feeling of filth clinging to him, but when he pushed off the sink, his vision tilted. The world blurred at the edges, his knees threatening to give.

He caught himself just in time, fingers gripping the doorframe, heart hammering.

Breathe. Breathe.

By the time he stepped out of the bathroom, his body felt detached—like he was wearing it rather than existing inside it. He forced himself forward, each step calculated, careful, controlled. If he could just keep this up—if he could just last the day—he could make it through this without S7en catching on.

But as the hours crawled by, the fever pressed in harder, suffocating.

And S7en?

S7en was starting to notice.

S7en was used to Elex being a little twitchy. It was just how he was.

Always moving, always chewing on something, always restless in a way that made it hard to tell if he was anxious or just alive.

But this?

This was different.

They were sitting on the couch—or, at least, S7en was. Elex was perched on the other end, practically curling into the armrest, the furthest he could physically get without sitting on the floor.

It was weird.

Elex was always touching him. Always pressing up against him in some way—a foot shoved against his thigh, a hand absently tugging at his hoodie strings, a knee bumping into his as they sat too close for no reason.

But right now?

S7en may as well have been on a different planet.

He frowned, stretching his arms over his head before slumping further into the cushions.

"Y’know, it’s real fuckin’ weird when you’re not all over me," he muttered.

Elex huffed, a short, forced noise. "Wow. Clingy much?"

S7en kicked at his foot.

"You like it."

Elex snorted, but he didn’t move closer.

Didn’t shove at S7en like he usually would. Didn’t sink into him lazily, the way he always did after a long day.

Something about it made S7en’s stomach twist.

He let it go.

But the feeling stayed.

Elex had made it through the morning.

Barely.

Now, the afternoon loomed ahead, and his body was falling apart faster than he could keep up.

His limbs felt weak, heavy like they didn’t belong to him anymore. His fever had climbed, turning his skin too hot, then too cold, then hot again, like his body couldn’t decide what the hell it was supposed to be feeling.

But worse than the heat, worse than the exhaustion, worse than the pounding ache in his skull—

Was the fact that S7en wasn’t an idiot.

Elex had been dodging him all day.

Avoiding sitting too close. Keeping his back turned while cooking lunch. Drowning himself in cups of coffee and forcing a smirk any time S7en’s gaze lingered too long.

But the cat was watching him.

He could feel it.

The slow tilt of his head. The way his orange eyes narrowed, pupils slitting ever so slightly, tail flicking in that way it did when he was figuring something out.

It made Elex’s skin crawl.

And then—

The itch flared again.

A sudden, unbearable tickle climbing sharp and fast through his sinuses, making his breath hitch, eyes fluttering against his will.

Fuck. Not again.

He twisted away, forcing the urge down, down, down, clenching his teeth and balling up his hoodie’s fabric in his hands.

Don’t.

Don’t.

His shoulders tensed hard, muscles locking up so tight it made his head pound worse—

And somehow, somehow, the sneeze receded.

Barely.

His chest was still tight, his breath still uneven, but at least he hadn’t—

"You good?"

Elex’s entire body locked up.

S7en’s voice was casual, almost bored, but there was something off about it. Something too sharp, like he was waiting for the answer to confirm a suspicion.

Elex forced himself to exhale slowly through his nose.

"I'm fine," he said, voice rough, but steady enough.

S7en hummed.

"Sure."

He didn’t believe him.

Elex knew it.

Knew it the way S7en’s ears twitched forward. The way his tail lashed lazily against the arm of the couch. The way he tapped his mechanical pencil rhythmically against his sketchbook, eyes never leaving Elex’s face.

But he didn’t press.

Not yet.

Which meant Elex still had time.

He just had to hold it together a little longer.

Just—

A shiver rattled down his spine, making his breath stutter, and he barely bit back a curse.

S7en’s eyes narrowed.

Fuck.

Keep moving.

Elex turned toward the sink, gripping the edge with white-knuckled force, blinking hard against the dizziness creeping into his vision.

His palms were sweating.

His skin felt disgusting.

He needed to wash his hands again.

But if he did, if he reached for the soap one more time, S7en would—

“You’re acting weird.”

Elex stiffened.

Breathed in slow.

Out.

And forced a lazy smirk as he turned around.

"Am I?"

S7en’s gaze flicked over him, studying.

Too long. Too observant. Too much.

His pupils dilated, nose twitching—like he was smelling something.

Elex’s stomach dropped.

"I dunno," S7en mused, stretching his arms above his head, tail curling lazily. "You’re being... extra twitchy today."

"Maybe you’re just being extra nosy today," Elex shot back, gripping the counter behind him to ground himself.

S7en grinned, but his eyes stayed sharp.

“Maybe.”

Elex’s heartbeat pounded in his skull.

He had to get away.

Elex needed space.

S7en’s eyes were on him—too sharp, too focused, too knowing. He could feel it, the weight of that gaze pressing into his skin, reading into every twitch, every forced breath. It made his stomach turn, made his hands clench uselessly at his sides, made the sick heat crawling under his skin even worse.

He needed to get away.

Elex pushed off the counter, muscles stiff, nausea curling at the edges of his senses, but he forced himself to keep moving. His pulse hammered against his skull, drowning out the soft sounds of the apartment, making it hard to think past the heat pressing against his temples.

The fever was getting worse.

His own body was turning against him, pulling at the edges of his control, but he had to keep going. Had to stay ahead of it.

If he slowed down, even for a second—if he let himself feel the exhaustion sinking into his limbs—S7en would see it.

And if S7en saw it, it was over.

Elex swallowed hard, his throat raw and aching, and forced himself forward.

By the time he made it back to the kitchen, his hands were already reaching for the disinfectant wipes, fingers trembling as they closed around the familiar plastic container. The motion was automatic now—habitual, necessary.

Clean. Fix it. Clean.

But it wasn’t enough.

It was never enough.

His skin still crawled, his breath still felt wrong, his chest still ached with something he couldn’t scrub away.

And behind it all, the fever burned.

Rising. Tightening.

His head pulsed, sinuses clogging up, making every inhale a slow, labored pull through congestion that was only getting worse. He wiped his phone screen again, third time now, but the anxiety didn’t ease.

Nothing eased.

Because no matter how much he tried to erase the contamination, no matter how many surfaces he disinfected—

The sickness was still inside him.

And S7en?

S7en wasn’t letting this go.

Elex could feel it—the weight of his gaze, the way his energy had shifted from lazy amusement to something sharper, quieter, watchful. He didn’t need to turn around to know S7en was still tracking his every move, pupils just slightly too wide, ears just slightly too alert.

It was only a matter of time before he put it together.

Elex had to stay ahead of him.

So he moved. Kept moving. Forced himself into motion, into habit, into the kind of constant distraction that would keep him from thinking too hard about the fever pressing hot and heavy under his skin.

He had work to do.

He wiped down the counters. Again.

Ran a disinfectant wipe over the fridge handle. Again.

Checked his phone screen—again—and swiped a microfiber cloth over it until the glass shined.

Still, it wasn’t enough.

Because no matter how many times he scrubbed his hands, no matter how many surfaces he wiped down, no matter how much he cleaned and cleaned and cleaned—

The sickness was still there.

Thick congestion was already pressing hot and tight behind his eyes, his sinuses burning like someone had shoved a matchstick up his nose and let it smolder, each breath dragging through his throat like smoke, raw and unrelenting.

His hands were clammy, his breath coming in shallow pulls, but he kept moving.

He had disinfected the kitchen. Three times.

Cleaned his phone screen four times just in case.

Scrubbed his hands so many times the skin was turning red, peeling around his knuckles.

And yet, he still felt dirty.

Still felt contaminated.

He had made it this far, hidden it this long, but his body wasn’t listening to him anymore.

The warning signs had been too easy to ignore at first.

The slight chill at the back of his neck.
The dull ache in his limbs.
The tight, nagging itch in his nose that wouldn’t go away—

But now?

Now the weight pressing on his chest felt unbearable, his head ached so badly he could barely see straight, and his nose—

Fuck.

It twitched suddenly, sharply, the burning sensation flaring up out of nowhere, and his breath hitched hard.

No.

Not now. Not here. Not—

The first sneeze tore through him before he could stop it.

“H’USSHHhiew!—Hh’ehHTSCHHHh’iew!—h’UhtTSCHhhiew!!”

It wasn’t controlled.
It wasn’t covered.

It was violent, raw, messy—

And out in the fucking open.

Elex barely had time to process the horror before the next hit, dragging him forward, shoulders snapping down as his entire body shook with the force of it.

“Hehh’EhDTSHhiew!—hh'ieXSHHH!—hdt’USSCHHIEWW!!!”

The sound ripped through the apartment, wet and unrestrained, and the second the fit was over, the panic set in.

Elex froze.

His pulse pounded in his ears, cold dread settling deep in his stomach as his fingers twitched—

His body locked up, hands hovering in front of him like they weren’t his own. He could see the germs—feel them clinging to his skin, crawling up his arms, coating every surface.

His heart pounded against his ribs, his breathing coming fast and wrong as his hands shook violently, fingers twitching as he lunged for the sanitizer.

The bottle nearly slipped from his grasp, but he caught it, shaking it so hard the liquid inside sloshed. His brain was fuzzy, fever-haze clouding his thoughts, but he had to get rid of it. Had to clean. Had to—

He pumped the sanitizer into his palm and scrubbed.

Once. Twice. Again. Again. Again.

It wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t enough.

His breath came faster, too fast, his lungs tightening as he fought against the feeling, against the sickening reality that he couldn’t take back what had just happened.

And Elex gritted his teeth, his pulse hammering in his ears as he braced himself against the sink. His whole body trembled, every inch of him screaming for relief he refused to give it. The fever was pressing in hard now, wrapping around his skull like a vice, but he kept moving.

Scrubbing.

Disinfecting.

Fixing what he had done.

Not clean. Not clean. Not clean.

The whisper crawled up his spine, slithered under his skin. He could feel it—feel the contamination clinging to him like oil, seeping into the air, coating everything he had touched. He wiped down the sink. The door handle. The light switch. The air—

A violent shudder ripped through him, and he choked back a whimper, squeezing his eyes shut.

Breathe. Breathe.

He couldn’t.

His breath stuttered, caught on the thick, unrelenting burn in his lungs, but he forced himself to keep moving. He was fine. He’d be fine. He had to be fine.

Then—

A voice.

"Elex?"

His blood ran cold.

He froze, heart seizing up in his chest.

Footsteps. Slow. Careful.

Too close.

His fingers clenched into the counter, nails biting into the surface as he struggled to keep himself together.

"S’fine," he rasped, voice barely above a whisper. He cleared his throat, forcing something steadier. Stronger. "What? Need me to open a jar or somethin’?"

Silence.

Then, a quiet sigh.

"Cut the shit."

Elex’s jaw locked.

Shit. Shit.

His reflection in the mirror looked like hell. Damp hair clinging to his forehead, his face flushed with fever, red-rimmed eyes filled with exhaustion and something sharp—something desperate.

He turned the sink back on, pretended to be focused on washing his hands.

"I'm literally just—"

"You're sick."

Elex’s stomach dropped. A different kind of heat flushed through him this time—shame, dread, panic.

He forced a short, sharp laugh. "Wow, thanks for the update, doc."

A pause. A shift in the air.

Then—soft.

"You’re sick," S7en repeated, quieter this time. "And you’re hiding it from me."

His voice wasn’t amused anymore.

It wasn’t sharp with teasing or smug with victory.

It was hurt.

The sound of it made something deep in Elex’s chest twist painfully.

"You were gonna keep hiding it, weren’t you?" S7en asked. It wasn’t really a question. "Even after—" A breath. "After everything."

Fuck.

Elex squeezed his eyes shut. His throat burned. His hands curled into fists, nails biting into his palm.

"You think I don’t know what you’re doing?" S7en’s voice was steady, but there was an undercurrent of frustration beneath it. "I know you, Elex. I know how you get when you’re freaking out."

"I'm not—"

"You are."

S7en stepped forward. Close enough that Elex could feel the warmth of him at his back. "You're scrubbing the air, El."

Elex flinched.

He hadn’t even realized.

His fingers were still clenched around a disinfectant wipe, moving in circles over the countertop.

Over. And over. And over.

He felt sick. Sicker. Not just from the fever. Not just from the way his whole body ached—

But because S7en was right.

Because he was contaminated. Because he had ruined everything. Because if S7en got sick again—if his lungs gave out again—if he was the reason—

His breath hitched sharply.

Not again. Not again. Not again.

He had to fix this.

He reached for another wipe, but before he could grab it, S7en caught his wrist.

Firm. Unyielding.

Elex jerked, but S7en didn’t let go.

"Stop."

His voice was gentle. Not commanding, not forceful—just there.

Elex swallowed, his hands still twitching, fingers clenching uselessly against the air.

"It's okay," S7en said softly.

Elex shook his head. His breath stuttered, uneven, wrong. "It’s not okay," he rasped. "I—I sneezed—I fucking—contaminated everything."

His voice broke.

S7en’s grip tightened.

"You didn’t contaminate anything," S7en said. "You got sick. That’s all."

Elex shook his head again, panic tightening like a noose in his chest. He tried to pull away, but S7en wouldn’t let him.

"Elex." His voice was steady. "You're okay. You're just sick."

Elex felt his legs tremble beneath him. He hated this. Hated the way his body felt—weak, out of control, vulnerable. Hated the way S7en was looking at him.

He wanted to run. To hide. To scrub his skin raw until he felt clean again.

But S7en didn’t let him.

"You're okay," he repeated, softer this time.

Elex clenched his jaw, his whole body trembling.

His breath came too fast, too uneven, each inhale catching in his throat, clogged and raw. His fingers still twitched where S7en held them, like his body couldn’t decide whether to pull away or clench tighter, hold on.

He felt filthy. Exposed. Wrong.

His skin burned under his hoodie, his fever too high, but none of it compared to the way his stomach twisted, the guilt gnawing at his ribs.

He wasn’t supposed to let this happen.

S7en had just gotten better. He had just started breathing normally again. Elex had watched him nearly cough his fucking lungs out, had sat there through every long, awful night where every breath had been a goddamn fight. He had been so sick. So weak.

And now?

Now, Elex had ruined everything.

Now, he was the threat.

He shook his head again, harder this time, but S7en still wouldn’t let go.

"You don’t get it," Elex croaked, voice wrecked. "I—I can’t—" He squeezed his eyes shut, shoulders shaking, panic twisting tighter in his chest. "I can’t—I can’t be the reason you get sick again."

S7en’s grip tightened.

His voice came soft, steady. Unshakable.

"Elex—"

"You almost fucking died, S7en," Elex snapped, voice cracking straight down the middle. His throat burned, his whole body shaking like it was coming apart, but he didn’t care. "You were in the hospital, you—you couldn’t fucking breathe, and now—now I’m just supposed to sit here and act like it’s fine if I make that happen again?!"

S7en stilled.

Elex could feel it. The way his breath caught, the way his hands tensed for just a fraction of a second, the way his pulse jumped beneath Elex’s trembling fingers.

Guilt crashed into S7en’s expression like a storm.

But before Elex could sink too deep into it, before he could pull away, S7en moved.

He shifted closer, stepping into his space like he was trying to anchor him, like he was afraid Elex was about to tear himself apart right in front of him.

"You didn’t do anything to me," he said, voice rough, thick with something Elex couldn’t name. "You didn’t contaminate anything. You didn’t ruin anything. You just got sick. That’s all."

Elex let out a harsh, shaking breath, his hands still twitching like they needed to be doing something, like he still had to fix this.

"I should have been more careful," he muttered, eyes dropping to the floor. "I—I should’ve—I should’ve stayed away from you, I should’ve—"

"Stayed away?"

S7en’s voice went sharp.

Elex flinched.

And fuck, he was too exhausted to hide it.

S7en exhaled hard, raking a hand through his hair, tail flicking behind him in agitated, frantic movements.

"Elex," he said, gritted out like it physically hurt to say, "you can’t—you can’t just keep me in a fucking bubble every time you get sick."

Elex’s jaw clenched, but before he could argue, S7en kept going.

"Do you even hear yourself?" S7en demanded, his voice raw, frustrated, but not at him. Never at him. "You—you’re not some fucking diseased animal, Elex! You’re a person! You get sick, I get sick, it happens! I can’t just—I can’t just live my whole life in fear of that, and you can’t either!"

Elex’s breath hitched.

Because he wasn’t just scared.

He was terrified.

Because what if?

What if this was the one time it went wrong again? What if S7en got sick and couldn’t bounce back this time? What if it was Elex’s fault?

"I—I can’t—" Elex’s voice cracked. His hands balled into fists, but S7en caught them.

S7en held him.

Didn’t let him pull away.

Didn’t let him run.

Instead, he squeezed, firm but gentle, grounding him.

"You were there for me," S7en said, softer this time, steadier. "I needed you, and you were there. You didn’t leave me when I was falling apart. So don’t ask me to leave you now."

Elex felt his chest tighten.

His eyes burned.

He wanted to fight it. Needed to fight it. But he was too tired. Too drained.

And S7en was too close, too warm, too real.

So instead of fighting—he let go.

A slow, shaky exhale.

His shoulders slumped, tension bleeding from his muscles like air from a punctured tire.

S7en didn’t move.

Didn’t push.

Just held on.

S7en could feel the second Elex gave in.

The fight bled out of his body all at once, his shoulders slumping, hands no longer twitching with the urge to clean, to fix, to escape.

But he was still shaking.

Still burning up.

Still fucking wrecked.

And S7en—who never knew what to do with his hands, who never hovered, who never worried the way Elex did—suddenly didn’t care if it made him clingy or annoying or anything else.

He wasn’t letting go.

Not now.

Not after Elex had spent days breaking himself apart trying to keep this from him.

So S7en did what Elex had done for him not so long ago.

He held on.

Gently, carefully, he guided Elex toward the bed. Not rushed. Not forcing. Just moving, just keeping him close, keeping him steady when his knees nearly buckled.

And Elex—Elex let him.

He didn’t protest.

Didn’t crack some awful joke just to deflect.

He just followed, leaning against S7en’s side, his whole body too hot, the fever finally winning.

S7en eased him down, pulling the blankets up, keeping his touch gentle, steady, careful—the way Elex had done for him a few days ago, when he had been the one fighting for breath, fighting against his own fragile fucking body.

And when Elex exhaled, slow, wrecked, exhausted, something in S7en’s chest ached.

Because he recognized that sound.

It was the same sound he had made when Elex had been taking care of him, when he had finally stopped trying to act like he wasn’t drowning in it.

"You okay?" S7en asked, voice softer than usual.

Elex huffed—a weak attempt at amusement.

"Would be bore okay if by dose wasd’t fugki’g closigg up od be," he muttered, sniffling thickly, his voice a wrecked mess of congestion and fever.

S7en snorted. "Yeah. No shit."

Elex groaned, dragging his hands over his face. "Fugk, by head..."

S7en didn’t even hesitate.

He shifted, fingers moving to Elex’s temple, rubbing slow, soothing circles, the way Elex had done for him when his fever had been the one stealing the air from his lungs.

Elex froze.

And S7en knew—knew he wasn’t used to this, wasn’t used to letting someone else do the caring, the fixing, the hovering.

But he didn’t pull away.

Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t try to brush it off.

Instead, he let out a slow, shaky exhale and sank further into the pillow.

S7en didn’t stop.

Didn’t tease him about it.

Didn’t say anything at all.

He just kept going.

Because he knew—knew what it felt like to finally let someone else take over, to let the weight of it lift, even just a little.

And if Elex could have that, even for just one goddamn night?

S7en would make sure he did.

No matter what.

Elex had gone quiet.

Not in the way he usually did—when his mind got too loud, when he was pulling back into himself, into the places S7en wasn’t allowed to reach.

No, this was different.

This was exhaustion, fever-heavy and all-consuming.

S7en could feel the heat rolling off him in waves, his body shaking despite the thick blankets S7en had pulled over him. His breath hitched with congestion, thick and shallow, and every few seconds, his nose twitched like he was fighting off a sneeze.

Elex never let himself lose control.

But now?

Now he was losing.

S7en frowned, shifting to grab more tissues before pressing them gently into Elex’s hand.

Elex made a weak noise of protest, half-asleep, barely there, but S7en wasn’t having it.

"Blow your goddamn nose," he muttered, voice softer than the words. "You sound like you’re drowning in it."

Elex groaned, cracking one tired, red-rimmed eye open.

"Bossy," he rasped, but took the tissues anyway.

S7en watched as he struggled to sit up, his movements sluggish, hands barely steady.

Before he could make it worse, S7en reached out, bracing him with one arm, guiding him up easily, gently, carefully.

Elex let him.

Didn’t even fight it.

That scared S7en more than anything else.

Elex wasn’t a fighter in the traditional sense, but when it came to himself—his health, his own well-being—he was a goddamn battleground.

And now?

Now he wasn’t even arguing.

S7en swallowed the tightness in his chest and let Elex slump into his side as he blew his nose, harsh and miserable, before immediately dropping back against the pillows like the effort had wiped him out.

"That bad?" S7en asked, trying to keep his voice light.

Elex just groaned.

"Everythigg hurts," he muttered, hoarse and wrecked. "I thidk by skid is bad at be."

S7en snorted. "What, like, personally?"

Elex huffed, half a laugh, half a cough.

"Yeah," he grumbled. "Betrayal. Treacherous little bitch."

S7en rolled his eyes but kept his hand on Elex’s back, rubbing slow, grounding circles like Elex had done for him when he was the one breaking apart.

Elex exhaled, deep and slow.

Then, quieter—

"You should stay away from me."

S7en stiffened.

For a second, he thought maybe he’d imagined it.

But no.

Elex’s voice was softer now, raw and strained, but dead serious.

"I’m serious," he murmured, not looking at him. "You just got better. I can’t—I can’t be the reason you relapse."

S7en exhaled hard, dragging a hand down his face.

"We’re really doing this again?" he muttered.

Elex didn’t answer.

Didn’t have to.

S7en could feel it, the way his body had tensed, the way his fingers had curled into the blanket, like if he just held on tight enough, he could stop this from happening.

S7en shifted, leaning in closer, pressing their foreheads together, letting Elex feel the solid weight of him, the warmth that was still there, still strong, still okay.

"Listen to me," he said, steady and sure. "You didn’t get me sick. And if I do get sick? It’s not your fucking fault."

Elex swallowed, eyes fluttering shut.

"It would be."

"No," S7en said, firm. "It wouldn’t."

Elex huffed, a tired, miserable noise.

S7en rolled his eyes.

"Seriously, what are you gonna do, Lex? Lock yourself away for the rest of your life? Walk around in a hazmat suit just in case?"

Elex made a weak, stubborn noise, burrowing further into the blankets.

S7en shook his head. "You don’t get to keep doing this. You don’t get to tear yourself apart over shit you can’t control."

Finally, finally, Elex cracked his eyes open.

"Yeah?" he muttered. "Like you didn’t do the same thing?"

S7en froze.

Because fuck.

He was right.

Elex had held him up when he was at his worst, had been right there through all of it. Had never let him fall alone.

And now?

Now S7en was supposed to just walk away?

Like hell.

S7en scoffed, shoving Elex’s hoodie-covered shoulder.

"That’s different," he muttered.

"How?"

S7en sighed, running a hand through his hair, thinking for a second before saying, "Because I don’t give a shit about me. But I do give a shit about you."

Elex went still.

Completely.

Like his brain had just blue-screened.

And before he could overthink it, before he could ruin it—

S7en reached for the thermometer, shoving it into Elex’s hands.

"Now shut up and put this under your tongue," he muttered, ears flicking back. "Before I shove it somewhere else."

Elex snorted.

Another weak laugh.

Another win.

And as he finally, finally relaxed against S7en, letting the weight of the fever take him under, S7en just sat there.

Holding him up.

The way he always would.

Elex had given in.

Not all the way, not completely—but enough.

Enough that he let himself sink into S7en’s warmth, let the weight of exhaustion pull him under, let his body finally stop fighting.

And S7en?

S7en wasn’t going anywhere.

Not after all the bullshit avoidance, not after watching Elex tear himself apart, not after hearing him whisper that he couldn’t be the reason S7en got sick again.

Like he hadn’t just spent the last week watching over him.

Like he wasn’t allowed the same thing.

Like S7en getting sick again was some earth-shattering, world-ending event instead of just...life.

S7en swallowed hard, shaking off the lingering weight of that thought, and pressed the back of his hand against Elex’s forehead again.

Still too hot.

Still burning up.

S7en’s ears flicked with frustration.

He didn’t know how to do this.

Didn’t know how to be gentle, how to be soft in a way that actually mattered. He only knew how to watch and wait and be there when shit hit the fan.

But Elex deserved more than that.

So S7en did what he could.

He tucked the blankets tighter around Elex’s shoulders, making sure he was warm enough but not too hot.

He grabbed the cool rag from the nightstand, folding it before pressing it lightly against his forehead.

Elex made a soft noise, somewhere between a sigh and a whimper, his eyelashes fluttering but not opening.

S7en’s chest tightened.

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, trying to keep his voice steady, casual. "I know. I’m a fucking saint."

Elex didn’t answer.

Just let out a slow, exhausted exhale, his body melting further into the blankets.

S7en watched him for a moment, fingers absently brushing the cooling strands of his hair back, his mind drifting.

He still remembered the way Elex had sat at his bedside just days ago, quietly rubbing circles into his back when he was struggling to breathe, wiping him down when his fever had spiked too high, watching him with the kind of focus that felt too much, too intense, too raw.

Now S7en was the one watching him.

Noticing every shallow breath.

Every twitch of discomfort.

Every exhausted tremor in his fingers.

It wasn’t fair.

Not that Elex was sick—that happened.

But that he had felt like he had to go through it alone.

Like he had to hide it.

Like he had to carry it on his own shoulders just to protect S7en from something he had no control over.

And S7en hated that.

Hated that Elex had been suffering in silence, scrubbing his hands raw, avoiding him, trapping himself in his own head just to keep from being a burden.

Like S7en wouldn’t drop everything for him in a heartbeat.

Like S7en didn’t already know what it felt like to be in this exact position.

His fingers curled tighter around the edge of the blanket, jaw clenching, tail flicking in agitated movements before he forced himself to breathe.

Not the time.

Elex had stopped shivering.

That was progress.

S7en exhaled slow, shifting so he could tuck the blanket higher over Elex’s shoulders.

That’s when he felt it—

The smallest, barest hint of movement.

Elex’s fingers, still curled into the fabric of S7en’s hoodie, tugged.

It wasn’t intentional—not really.

More of a half-conscious reaction, a barely-there plea for something S7en wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been paying attention.

But he was.

So he didn’t hesitate.

Didn’t question it.

Just shifted closer, letting his weight settle against the mattress, letting Elex press against his side, forehead brushing S7en’s shoulder, his whole body giving in.

S7en just held him.

Didn’t make a big deal of it.

Didn’t say anything at all.

Just breathed.

Because Elex was finally letting himself be taken care of.

And S7en wasn’t about to ruin it.

The end ✨

[aller-geez]

@thekinkyleopard WHY IS THIS THE ENTIRETY OF A SHIFTERS TALE

[m1lo0o]

@thekinkyleopard @aller-geez

l made my first snz oc😭😭😭

Species:

Wolf/ Incubus hybrid 🙃

Age: 22 ‼️

Height: 5’9

Sexuality: Bi 💜

Birthday: April 1st

Zodiac: Aeries🥰

Appearance description : Two black horns portruding from the top of his head, Half and half light and dark green hair, (his hair is braided in the back.), he has a piercing under his bottom lip and two piercings in the middle of his eyes and eye brows, eyes are the same color as his hair.

Fun facts:

-He can’t write neatly for the life of him😭

-He’s insecure of how broad his shoulders are

-He may seem introverted, but he’s very foul mouthed and vulgar which catches most people he meets VERY off guard☠️

-He thinks the freckles on his face look stupid

-He actually has glasses but REFUSES to tell anyone unless it’s someone he’s very very close to (He usually wears contacts or not and prefers to act completely normal when in actuality he’s basically blind without them😭)

-He hates how raspy and low his voice is (It sounds like he’s sick)

Allergies:

DANDELIONS…

(He doesnt get sick often)

Symptoms when he has allergies:

-Very teary eyes

-constant sneezing

-Red nose (the fact that his skin is paper white makes it obvious and he hates it)

Symptoms when he’s sick:

-COUGHING like 24/7

-Sore ass throat

-Bad body aches

- Sneezing (but its not that bad)

[aller-geez]

missing baby draeko so much! what about a sickfic full of fluffiness? 🫶

You got it, Nonny! (Sorry for the delay, and that it’s only KanaixDraeko without Alistar, I struggle to imagine Alistar in fluffy situations and still write him on character, so I’ll leave writing fluffy Alistar to @thekinkyleopard 😅)

Kanai’s Guide To Sick Mutt Maintenance

written and illustrated by: allergeez ✨

Summary: Draeko has been sick before, but this time feels different. What starts as a mild cold quickly worsens into something more exhausting and relentless. Kanai, ever observant and unshakably patient, watches over him with quiet precision—ensuring his care is handled with calculated efficiency, even if Draeko stubbornly insists he’s fine. As the fever takes its toll, Draeko finds himself vulnerable in ways he hadn’t anticipated, and Kanai, despite his limited understanding of emotions, refuses to leave his side. In the midst of fevered delirium, restless dreams, and unrelenting exhaustion, Draeko begins to understand something deeper about Kanai’s presence—his unwavering steadiness, his quiet acts of care, and the unspoken truth that, no matter how weak or miserable he feels, he will never have to go through it alone. 5.2k words

Content Warnings!

Illness & Fever: Depictions of fever, congestion, exhaustion, and general cold/flu-like symptoms.

Nightmares & Distress: Mentions of fever-induced nightmares and emotional distress.

Sensory Overload Elements: Descriptions of discomfort due to fever, overwhelming sensations, and exhaustion.

Draeko had been sick plenty of times before, but this—this felt different.

It had started that morning as just a tickle in his throat, a little congestion, and a few sneezes that came and went with mild annoyance. Kanai had noted it immediately, of course—his observational skills were as meticulous as his aquariums—but Draeko had waved it off, insisting he was fine.

Kanai had simply blinked at him. "You are ill."

Draeko had sniffled, muffled a quiet "Hh'GXNTchh'ue!" into his sleeve as he pinched his nose shut, and cleared his throat. "...No, I'm not."

Kanai tilted his head in a slow, calculated movement, eyes scanning him as if analyzing the probability of Draeko being a liar.

"You stifled that," he noted blankly. "It is unhealthy to suppress a sneeze, Luciftias. The pressure can rupture delicate blood vessels."

Draeko groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Nai, I don’t need a scientific analysis of my immune system—hhHh'GXXTchh’iew! Hh’KXTCH’ue!—ughh..."

Kanai watched in silence as Draeko sniffled thickly, his ears drooping slightly under the weight of his congestion. His nose twitched as if still tickling, his expression soft and unfocused in the aftermath of his fit. A perfect, obvious, undeniable picture of a sick man.

And yet, Draeko still had the audacity to smile up at Kanai through watery, mismatched eyes and say, "See? Totally fine."

Kanai did not react.

Instead, without comment, he disappeared into the kitchen.

When he returned, he set a bottle of water, tissues, and fever medication on the table beside Draeko with a precision that suggested he had already determined this outcome the moment the hybrid sneezed.

Draeko blinked at the items, sniffled pitifully, and then blinked up at Kanai. "...You just had this stuff ready to go, huh?"

Kanai sat beside him, silent for a long moment before answering, "It is inevitable."

At first, Draeko had believed his own stubborn optimism. His symptoms remained mild, just a little stuffiness, the occasional harsh sneezing fit, and a general feeling of malaise that he refused to acknowledge.

Kanai, ever present, had watched.

Even as Draeko curled up under a blanket in the hound’s room, watching the soft, eerie glow of the jellyfish tanks sway in the dim lighting, Kanai observed. He had his notebook in hand, jotting something down between glances at Draeko.

Draeko, snuggled into his hoodie, narrowed his tired eyes. "You’re writing about me, aren’t you?"

Kanai did not bother denying it. "I am analyzing the physiological progression of your illness."

Draeko groaned. "Great. I’m a science experiment."

Kanai hummed noncommittally, his hand still moving against the paper.

Draeko huffed, sniffled, and wobbled to his feet. "I’m getting some water—hhHh’KSHhht’iiew! Hih’GXNTch!—hihh’KXXtsh’chhu!!" He froze mid-step, his breath still hitching as he quickly pinched his pink dusted nostrils between his thumb and index finger, the tickle refusing to subside.

Kanai, still writing, spoke without looking up. "Bless you."

"Hhhihh…hh’NGXSHh’ue!—Hihh’GXXTsh’iiew!“

Kanai paused. Looked up. Watched.

Draeko was still stuck, breath trembling in his throat, nose reddening at the edges as he fought against the overwhelming itch. His deer ears twitched, his tail flicked once behind him before he finally succumbed.

"Ihh’gxxnt’iiew! Huh'GDTS'iiew!! Hhh— Hh’NDKT’ih!"

The sneezes rocked his small frame, leaving him sniffling miserably into his hands.

Kanai observed him carefully, eyes flicking toward the tissues before he, without breaking eye contact, slid the box toward Draeko with a slow, deliberate push.

Draeko sniffled and took one. "...Thanks."

Kanai nodded once. "You are still getting worse."

Draeko sighed heavily, flopping back down into the blankets. "Yeah, yeah, I know."

Kanai watched him curl into himself, his tail wrapping around his legs as his sniffles softened.

He turned back to his notebook. "Stage two: full-body fatigue. Increased sneezing frequency. Heightened congestion. Possible fever incoming."

He did not know at the time how correct he would be.

At first, Kanai was not aware that anything had changed.

His aquariums filtered the silence of the night with soft bubbling, their light casting slow-moving shadows across his walls. The apartment was quiet. Draeko had fallen asleep beside him earlier, his small frame curled under layers of blankets, breathing softly.

Everything had been still.

Until the whimpering started.

Kanai’s eyes snapped open.

His ears tuned in immediately to the sound—the barely-there, breathless murmurs of distress.

Kanai shifted, turning to where Draeko lay—only to immediately notice the problem.

Draeko was shaking.

Not the light, occasional shiver of someone cold, but the uncontrollable tremors of a body overwhelmed by fever. His sweater was damp with sweat, his hair sticking to his forehead, his breath coming in short, sharp little gasps.

Kanai pressed his hand to Draeko’s forehead.

Burning.

The next thing Kanai noticed was the thrashing.

Draeko's small frame twitched and jerked under the heavy blankets, his legs kicking out in frantic, unfocused movements. His tail curled in tight, his ears pressed flat against his damp, sweat-matted hair.

Then came the murmuring.

At first, it was just soft whimpers, breathless little sounds that barely carried beyond the blankets. But soon, his voice rose—frantic, fevered, lost.

"N-no—" Draeko shifted sharply, his body curling inward as if bracing for something unseen. His hands clenched at the sheets, gripping desperately, knuckles white. His breath came in short, uneven gasps, quivering at the edges.

Kanai watched. Assessed.

He knew what nightmares were. He had read about them. Observed them in others. But he had never experienced one. Fear was an abstract concept to him—one that did not govern his actions, one that did not coil in his chest the way it did in mortals.

Still.

Draeko was in distress.

And Kanai did not like it.

Kanai barely shifted as Draeko whimpered against him, his overheated body curling tighter into his chest. The slow-moving constellations in Draeko’s horns flickered briefly, unfocused—like a signal struggling to hold.

Kanai observed the change in silence, watching as the swirling nebulae blurred, the stars within them shifting sluggishly, their usual clarity dulled by fever.

“You are disoriented,” Kanai murmured, his cool fingers tracing the ridges of one horn carefully, monitoring the slow, dragging movements of the galaxy reflected there. “Your vision is compromised.”

Draeko only sniffled against him, a weak, exhausted hum the only response he could muster.

A particularly sharp whimper escaped Draeko’s lips, a broken, pitiful sound that sent a deep, unfamiliar sensation twisting in Kanai’s chest.

His breath hitched sharply, his fingers gripping at nothing, his brows furrowing in visible fear. His chest rose and fell erratically, his voice barely a breath.

"...D-don’t leave…"

Kanai reacted instantly.

Without hesitation, he wrapped an arm around Draeko, pulling him close. His palm found Draeko’s burning cheek, grounding him, his presence a steady, unmoving force.

Draeko’s breath stuttered. His mismatched eyes fluttered open, glassy, disoriented.

Kanai tightened his hold.

And then, with a choked, gasping inhale—

Draeko jerked awake.

He sat up so fast that the world tilted, his breath staggering in his lungs. His fever blurred the edges of reality, his vision swimming, disoriented. Sweat dripped down his temples, soaking into his flushed skin.

For a moment, he didn’t know where he was.

His ears twitched wildly, searching for sound, for something familiar, something safe—

And then his eyes met Kanai’s.

Silent. Steady. There.

Kanai was already reaching for him.

Before Draeko could fully register what was happening, he was being pulled into Kanai’s chest, into warmth, into something solid and grounding.

And the moment Kanai’s arms wrapped around him—the moment Draeko realized he was safe—

He broke.

A choked sob wrenched its way out of his throat, raw and helpless, as his fingers clutched Kanai’s hoodie. His body shook violently, shivers wracking his fevered frame as the pent-up fear, exhaustion, and overwhelming sickness crashed over him all at once.

Kanai said nothing.

He simply held him.

One hand pressed firm and steady against Draeko’s back, the other threading slowly through his damp, pastel-colored hair.

Draeko’s sobs came hard and unrelenting, his breath hitching, catching painfully in his throat. The fever left him raw, vulnerable, too exhausted to hold anything back. His tears burned hot as they spilled against Kanai’s chest, his fingers tightening in the fabric of his hoodie as if he feared Kanai might disappear from his grasp if he didn’t.

Kanai did not let go.

His hand continued its slow, steady movements, combing through Draeko’s sweat-dampened hair in a rhythm that was neither rushed nor hesitant.

Draeko sniffled hard, burying his face deeper against Kanai’s shoulder, his body still trembling in aftershocks of panic. His breath stuttered, breaking apart between cries, voice hoarse and small.

“…Nai…?”

The name was barely a breath—soft, fevered, and uncertain.

Kanai’s grip on him tightened. Not out of urgency, not out of worry—but out of certainty. Out of the absolute, unwavering fact that Draeko was here, in his arms, safe.

"You are safe, Luciftias." Kanai’s voice was low, steady. Absolute.

Draeko shivered. His entire body curled into Kanai’s warmth, his weak, trembling hands balling up a fist full of Kanai’s hoodie as though the fabric itself was keeping him tethered to reality. He let out a soft, stuffy whimper, his breath shuddering as his nose twitched, pink and raw from the endless irritation.

“I f-feel so shitty…” His voice cracked, barely above a whisper—stuffed thick with congestion, choked with fever. His lips parted as if trying to say more, but the words never came. Instead, his breath hitched sharply—a sudden, desperate gasp sucked in through blocked sinuses.

Kanai paused.

Draeko’s expression slackened, his brow furrowing slightly, his glassy, unfocused eyes fluttering as his pink nose twitched violently. His ears twitched along with it, flicking back against his damp, pastel-colored hair. His breathing grew uneven—little quivering inhales, caught somewhere between relief and irritation.

And then—

"hhHh'GNXTschhh'ue! hhHh'kNNGTchh'ue! Hiihh’NGnxxt’iiew!!"

Each sneeze pitched him forward, his small frame shaking as they ripped through him, leaving him sniffling weakly against Kanai’s chest.

Kanai did not move.

He simply waited. Observed. Let Draeko press his fever-warm face further into his hoodie, soaking the fabric with heat and helpless sniffles.

Draeko whimpered softly, nuzzling against Kanai’s chest like a miserable, sickly kit searching for warmth. "Uhhg… snnfff… s-sorry…"

Kanai didn’t acknowledge the apology. It was not necessary.

Instead, he pressed his cool palm against Draeko’s flushed cheek, feeling the unnatural heat still radiating from his small frame. Still rising. Still unacceptable.

"You are overheating."

Draeko made a weak, exhausted noise, the kind of sound that could not be classified as protest or agreement—just resignation. He sniffled harshly, voice thick and ruined.

"...D’know what to do about it… snnff!"

Kanai knew.

Without another word, he let his long, delicate fingers trace up Draeko’s face, brushing aside the damp, sweat-clung strands of pastel pink and mint green.

Draeko shivered, but this time, it wasn’t from fever.

His eyelashes fluttered, lips parting slightly as Kanai’s fingers ghosted over his temple, slow and deliberate. It was not an intentionally affectionate gesture—just methodical, precise. But to Draeko, it felt like paradise.

Kanai hummed softly. “I will cool you down.”

Draeko, too weak to protest, merely let out a small, pitiful sniffle, his body sinking further into Kanai’s touch.

Without hesitation, Kanai moved.

Every action was slow, calculated, but undeniably gentle.

He reached for a damp cloth, freshly soaked in cool water from earlier, pressing it carefully to Draeko’s overheated forehead. His movements were precise, methodical, deliberate—as if handling something fragile.

Draeko sighed, his body giving in completely.

The relief was instant.

A soft, trembling exhale slipped past his lips, barely a breath—a whimpering, exhausted sigh as he melted into Kanai’s care without resistance.

Kanai paused.

Something settled in his chest. A feeling unfamiliar. Unnamed.

His fingers moved on their own, slipping down to trace slow, absentminded circles along Draeko’s back. Not calculated. Not planned. Instinctual.

Draeko sniffled again, rubbing his still-twitching nose against Kanai’s chest with a quiet, sleepy grumble.

"...Nai…’s cold now…"

Kanai blinked.

He adjusted the cloth with precision, pressing the cool fabric back against Draeko’s flushed cheeks.

"You were overheating," he stated plainly. "This is an improvement."

Draeko huffed—a stuffy, congested little sound, muffled against Kanai’s hoodie.

"...Still don’ like it…" He sniffled wetly, barely lifting his arm before another sharp inhale stole his breath.

Kanai braced.

Draeko’s nose scrunched, his pink nostrils quivering in irritation. His breath hitched—a quick, gasping prelude—before he finally succumbed.

"H’GXTSH’ue! K’GNSH’iiew! Hihh’GXXTsh’iiew! "

Kanai remained perfectly still as each sneeze rocked Draeko’s frame, knocking the mutt further into his grip.

Draeko gave a small, exhausted whimper, sniffling helplessly against Kanai’s chest.

Kanai, without comment, reached for the handkerchief beside them.

He brought it to Draeko’s face.

Draeko’s dazed, glassy eyes fluttered open.

Kanai tilted his head slightly. "Blow your nose."

Draeko, blinking sluggishly, let out a small, tired groan before obediently pressing his nose to the cloth.

He blew, then sniffled. Then collapsed completely against Kanai’s chest.

Kanai, still holding the cloth, merely wrapped his arm more securely around Draeko’s shoulders, letting the mutt curl into him.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Draeko’s breathing slowed, evening out. His fever still burned, but the shaking had lessened.

And Kanai, still tracing absentminded patterns along Draeko’s spine, let the weight in his chest settle.

"...Better?" He finally asked.

Draeko, already half-asleep, gave a small, stuffy sigh.

"...Mmhm…"

Kanai exhaled softly.

“…Nai?” Draeko mumbled after a moment, his voice hoarse, barely above a breath.

Kanai’s eyes flickered down, feeling the slight shift of Draeko’s weight against him.

"Yes?"

Draeko sniffled, the sound thick and pitiful, before pressing his hot forehead further into Kanai’s chest. His small fingers curled weakly in the fabric of Kanai’s hoodie, his grip loose but clinging.

“…Y-you’re being really nice.”

Kanai blinked. He paused briefly, processing the statement, before responding in his usual calm, even tone.

“I am always ‘nice’ to you, Luciftias.”

Draeko’s fevered mind latched onto that immediately.

His ears twitched, and despite the obvious misery he was in, a small, stuffy giggle slipped out, wet and tired.

“…’Cept when you let me eat that weird fish food.”

Kanai did not react outwardly.

“…That was an experiment.”

Draeko groaned dramatically, sniffling thickly against Kanai’s chest. “Not cool, Nai.”

“You are still alive,” Kanai countered. “Thus, the experiment was a success.”

Draeko huffed—a breathy, exhausted sound, though his tail flicked once, betraying his amusement. But the moment was short-lived.

His breath hitched.

Kanai recognized the signs immediately.

Draeko’s nose twitched, pink and raw from irritation. His eyes squeezed shut, brow furrowing, as his breath trembled into a sharp, desperate inhale.

Normally, he would stifle. He always did. Pinching his nose, suppressing every sound, even if it hurt.

But now—with Kanai—

"HhHh'IHSHh’iew! hhHh'KSHhht! hh'ihhTSHH'ue!!"

Draeko sniffled weakly, rubbing his nose against Kanai’s hoodie in a dazed, exhausted motion. His body remained slumped against the hound’s chest, his fevered frame boneless and pliant.

Kanai’s fingers continued their slow, rhythmic motions through Draeko’s hair, smoothing through the damp pastel strands with absentminded precision.

Then, in the same calm, neutral tone he always spoke in, Kanai hummed softly and said,

“I am beginning to understand why Donnie is so fond of those.”

Draeko blinked.

Still half-buried in Kanai’s chest, he lazily peeked one glassy, mismatched eye up at him, blinking again in tired confusion.

“…Hhuh?” His voice was thick with congestion, but the bewilderment in it was still obvious.

Kanai tilted his head slightly, his hand still idly stroking down Draeko’s spine, like one would soothe a restless creature.

“Sneezes,” he clarified evenly.

Draeko stared.

Kanai watched his exhausted, fevered brain struggle to process the words, the gears in his mind turning sluggishly.

And then, despite the fog, the realization hit.

Draeko’s ears twitched.

His pink-flushed cheeks darkened slightly, and suddenly, his tail flicked once, as if his body was visibly trying to short-circuit.

“Nai—what?” His stuffy voice cracked slightly, genuine disbelief flooding his expression.

Kanai remained unaffected.

“It was not unpleasant,” he stated plainly, his fingers still idly combing through Draeko’s tangled hair. “Your body tensed and released in a rhythmic pattern. Your breath grew erratic, followed by a sharp, involuntary reaction. It is always an interesting physiological process to witness up close.”

Draeko’s face heated, and not just from the fever.

He blinked rapidly, shifting weakly in Kanai’s arms. “Wh—okay, okay, but—fond of them? What does that even—” He sniffled, his red-rimmed nose twitching slightly. “Wait—d-do you mean like—”

Kanai nodded.

Draeko made a noise.

A small, stuffy, overwhelmed noise.

“Nai, what the fuck?”

Kanai hummed. “It was inevitable that I would begin to analyze their effects, yes?”

Draeko sputtered. His fevered brain was not equipped for this conversation. He sniffled aggressively, trying to clear his mind, but instead, the sudden inhale tickled too much, and he barely had time to catch a breath—

"hhHh'IHSHh’iew! hhHh'KSHhht! hh'ihhTSHH'ueh!"

He collapsed back into Kanai’s chest, too tired to stifle, too tired to care.

Kanai remained silent for a moment.

Then, in a perfectly neutral tone, he mused, “Yes, Luciftias. Like that.”

Draeko groaned, his ears twitching wildly as he tried to sink into Kanai’s hoodie and disappear forever.

“…Nai, I am not having this conversation right now.”

Kanai tilted his head slightly. “Why not?”

Draeko groaned again. “Because I don’t—ugh—I don’t get it!”

He sniffled, voice thick and miserable, rubbing his tender, pink nose against Kanai’s hoodie again without thinking.

Kanai continued his slow, absentminded touches, voice still calm and observant.

“Your breath hitches before release. Your body is overcome with sensation. The tension builds, and then you succumb to it entirely.”

Draeko felt his soul leave his body.

His ears pressed back into his mess of hair, his face heating up as a blush bloomed further into his cheeks.

He sniffled deeply, still lost in Kanai’s hoodie, too sick and tired to fight back.

“…Okay,” he muttered helplessly. “Okay. I mean. I—I guess? I still don’t get it, but sure.”

Kanai hummed in response. “It was an interesting discovery.”

Draeko, exasperated but too drained to argue, sniffled weakly and let out a small, tired sigh.

“…You’re so fucking weird.”

Kanai did not react.

Instead, he simply pressed the damp cloth against Draeko’s forehead again, his free hand returning to gently stroking his back.

Draeko, utterly spent, utterly stuffy, and utterly unwilling to unpack this moment further, just sighed heavily and melted into the contact.

“…Can you just pet my ears now and pretend we never had this conversation?”

Kanai obliged immediately.

The heat was still there. His body still burned beneath the weight of the fever, his cheeks flushed pink, damp strands of hair clinging to his forehead.

Kanai, without thinking, tucked the stray strands behind Draeko’s ear, his cool fingers lingering against fever-warm skin.

Draeko let out a soft, sleepy sigh, his body finally settling.

His fever still burned beneath his skin. His body still trembled with exhaustion.

But he was safe.

Kanai was here.

And Kanai wasn’t leaving.

Draeko’s breath evened out, his body going slack in Kanai’s arms, his tail giving one final, lazy flick before stilling completely.

Kanai waited.

A full ten minutes passed before he finally adjusted his hold, his fingertips brushing lightly against Draeko’s forehead once more.

Still warm. Still fragile.

But no longer alone.

Kanai had been carefully replacing the damp cloth on Draeko’s forehead when he noticed it.

The usual slow, idle drift of stars across Draeko’s horns had changed. Instead of lazily panning across the cosmos, the frame had sharpened—focused.

The image shifted, settling on something closer.

Kanai observed the flickering planets, the shifting coordinates. A precise lock. A location.

His eyes lowered. “…You are tracking.”

Draeko, half-delirious, barely clinging to consciousness, gave a slow, congested sniffle against Kanai’s chest. He blinked glassy, unfocused eyes, trying to process the words.

“Mmh…?” His voice was barely a breath, his horns flickering again—trying, failing, to hold the image.

Kanai hummed, lightly pressing his fingers against the spiraling ridges. The image within them wavered, and then, as if sensing Draeko’s exhaustion, the focus collapsed.

The frame drifted back into its usual slow pan of space.

“…You are too ill to track properly,” Kanai noted.

Draeko just sniffled again, pathetically.

“…’s fine…wasn’ tryin’ to…”

Kanai hummed in acknowledgment, brushing his thumb over the base of Draeko’s horn once, absentmindedly.

“I will monitor for anomalies,” he said simply.

Draeko, too tired to process, mumbled something incomprehensible and melted further into Kanai’s arms.

Draeko slept, but it wasn’t deep. His body twitched in Kanai’s arms, shifting restlessly beneath the blankets, still too warm, still too sick.

Kanai, ever patient, remained still.

Even when Draeko’s hot breath fanned against his collarbone, even when his fevered skin pressed against his own cool frame, Kanai did not move away. His fingers continued their slow, absentminded movements through Draeko’s sweat-damp hair, tracing along the soft strands without conscious thought.

It was an automatic action. A motion meant for soothing, for grounding.

And it worked.

Draeko breathed softly against Kanai’s chest, finally resting. His exhausted frame had gone slack, his fevered body no longer trembling so violently.

Kanai remained still.

His eyes drifted, watching the ever-slowing movement of Draeko’s horns as they settled into their idle sequence.

Planets drifted lazily.

Stars flickered like distant embers in a cosmic tide.

Kanai watched wordlessly, his fingers resuming their slow, steady motion through Draeko’s sweat-dampened hair.

“…Rest, Luciftias.”

The galaxies continued their silent orbit.

Draeko’s breathing remained soft, congested sniffles slipping between quiet, fevered murmurs. Every so often, his tail gave a weak flick, his body reacting to some unseen discomfort before settling once again.

Kanai watched.

Listened.

And when Draeko whimpered softly in his sleep, pressing his face against the fabric of Kanai’s hoodie, Kanai simply tightened his hold—just slightly. Just enough.

Draeko sighed, his warm, clammy fingers twitching against Kanai’s chest before going still again.

Draeko stirred.

Not all at once, not suddenly—just a slow, sluggish shift, his overheated body squirming weakly under the weight of the blankets.

Kanai immediately noticed.

He could feel the heat still radiating off Draeko’s skin, could hear the shallow congestion in every uneven breath. He reached for the cool cloth, still damp, and gently pressed it back to Draeko’s forehead.

A small, pitiful whimper left the mutt’s lips.

“Too cold…” Draeko’s voice was hoarse and congested, barely above a breath as he curled further into Kanai’s chest, tucking his nose into the fabric like a burrowing creature.

Kanai blinked, then pressed the cloth back down anyway.

“You were overheating.”

Draeko whined.

The sound was soft, hoarse, but childishly stubborn.

“…Don’ like it…” he mumbled thickly, sniffling deeply against Kanai’s hoodie. His nose rubbed absently against the fabric, barely processing that he was doing it. “Wanna be warm again…”

“You are already too warm.” Kanai held the cloth in place, ignoring the sleepy protests. “You will overheat again if I remove it.”

Draeko let out a weak, dramatic sigh.

“…’S so unfair…” His tail gave a lazy flick, curling slightly at the tip before falling still again.

Kanai hummed, watching the way Draeko’s ears twitched slightly at the vibration in his chest. His fingers never stopped their soothing patterns, brushing through Draeko’s hair with calculated ease.

“…You are unusually clingy.”

Draeko let out a sleepy, stuffy giggle, his half-lidded, fevered eyes blinking up at Kanai’s blank expression.

“…’Cause you’re comfy.”

Kanai blinked.

He did not know what to do with that information.

So he ignored it.

“…Your fever is still high.” His fingers brushed against Draeko’s temple, pressing lightly as if assessing the temperature again, even though he already knew the result.

Draeko just sighed into him, his stuffed-up breath catching slightly.

“…You’re always so nice to me when I’m sick…” His voice was thick, heavy with congestion.

Kanai hummed. “You are in distress.”

Draeko sniffled hard, his nose scrunching slightly—and then, with no warning, his breath hitched sharply, his body tensing beneath the blankets.

Kanai paused.

Watched.

Draeko’s eyelashes fluttered, his pink nostrils quivering as his lips parted, breath growing uneven—

“Hh’ITSCHH’ueh!—hhHh'IHSHh’iew! hhHh'KSHhht!—hh'ihhTSHH'ueh!”

Each sneeze pitched him weakly forward, his small body shuddering from the force.

Kanai waited.

Draeko’s breath caught again, nose twitching as if overloaded with irritation. His ears twitched, drooping slightly, before another sharp inhale forced him into another fit.

“HhHh'IHSHh’uhh! Hhh… hhHh'KSSHhh’ueh!”

Kanai tensed slightly, the soft, breathy sneezes far too close against his collarbone.

Draeko sniffled thickly, groaning as he pressed his pink nose against Kanai’s chest, snuggling deeper into his hoodie.

“…Hhihh—ihH’ktdSHhh! hiiih’ISHHHh—uhH!! h’dtTISHh! ”

Kanai did not react outwardly.

Instead, he simply reached for the tissue box on the nightstand, plucking one free before bringing it directly to Draeko’s face.

"Blow."

Draeko let out a small, tired whine.

“…T’red…”

"Blow."

Draeko groaned dramatically, but leaned into the tissue, his tiny, fevered sniffles worsening.

Kanai held it firm, his grip steady as Draeko finally complied. The sound was wet, exhausted.

“…nnnngh…,” Draeko groaned weakly, pressing his forehead against Kanai’s collarbone.

Kanai folded the tissue with precision, setting it aside before running his cool fingers down the back of Draeko’s neck.

Draeko sighed.

“…You’re so cold…” He nuzzled further into Kanai’s touch, sniffling softly. “D’know if I wanna fight you anymore…”

Kanai tilted his head slightly. "You were fighting me?"

“…For control of the temperature…”

Kanai blinked.

Then, after a moment:

"You lost."

Draeko let out a sleepy, congested giggle, tucking himself further into Kanai’s chest.

“’Course I did…”

Kanai exhaled slowly, his fingers continuing their slow movements through Draeko’s hair.

Draeko sighed again, his tail curling slightly against Kanai’s leg.

“…’m really glad you’re here.”

Kanai, without thinking, pressed his forehead lightly to the top of Draeko’s head.

“…You were in distress,” he murmured, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

“I will always wake up for you, Luciftias”

Draeko melted.

His breathing evened out, his tiny sniffles growing softer, until—finally—his body relaxed completely.

Kanai did not move.

He simply watched the rise and fall of Draeko’s chest, felt the soft warmth of his even, fevered breaths.

Still warm. Still fragile.

But no longer alone.

Draeko woke to the soft sound of bubbling water.

For a moment, he didn’t move.

His body was heavy, aching, like he had been buried under layers of warmth and exhaustion for centuries. His head pounded, his throat was raw, and his nose felt completely clogged.

He sniffled experimentally.

Nothing.

A miserable groan rumbled from his chest, muffled against something solid, warm, and unmoving.

It took another few seconds for his fever-fogged brain to realize where he was.

Kanai.

Draeko blinked blearily, vision swimming, before tilting his head slightly to confirm.

Yep. Still there.

Kanai was still holding him.

Not in an uncomfortable, confining way—but with perfect precision, like he had measured exactly how much weight to apply to keep Draeko comfortable but not trapped.

…Had Kanai even moved all night?

Draeko squinted, voice thick and hoarse when he finally rasped out, “…Did you even sleep?”

Kanai did not hesitate.

"No."

Draeko groaned, pressing his flushed face into Kanai’s hoodie.

“Naiii,” he whined stuffily, sniffling hard against the fabric, voice muffled beyond recognition. “You don’t have to be that nice…snnff!”

Kanai tilted his head slightly, pressing the back of his cool fingers against Draeko’s cheek.

"You would have woken up alone."

Draeko, still groggy and congested, felt his ears twitch weakly at that.

“…Well…yeah," he admitted, sniffling against Kanai’s chest, too tired to argue properly. “But…that’s only ‘cause you’re not supposed to…hh’ihhhSHH’uhh!—stay up the whole night…”

Kanai did not move as the hybrids tiny, exhausted sneeze pitched him weakly forward. He simply reached for a tissue, held it to Draeko’s twitching nose, and waited.

Draeko blinked sleepily.

“…Snnff—oh.”

"Blow."

Draeko sighed dramatically, too tired to put up a fight, and let Kanai gently press the tissue against his pink, stuffy nose.

The sound was embarrassingly wet.

Draeko whined. “Uhhhg… I’b so gross…”

Kanai, unfazed, simply folded the tissue neatly, setting it aside before tilting Draeko’s chin up slightly.

"You are still alive."

Draeko gave him a flat, stuffy look.

“…That’s your bar for success?”

Kanai hummed, lightly smoothing a cool palm over Draeko’s damp forehead.

"Yes."

Draeko groaned again, snuggling deeper into Kanai’s hoodie.

Kanai did not move away.

Instead, he reached for the cup of water on the nightstand—one he had placed there hours ago in preparation—and gently nudged it toward Draeko’s hands.

"Drink."

Draeko pouted, sniffled, and grabbed the cup anyway.

Kanai watched closely as he took small, slow sips, waiting for any signs of discomfort.

“…Better?” he asked once Draeko set the cup back down.

Draeko gave a small, stuffy nod, his ears twitching.

“…Y-yeah… snff! A little…”

Kanai hummed, his fingers finding Draeko’s ears almost on instinct, rubbing small, precise motions into the soft fur.

Draeko melted instantly.

A deep, congested sigh escaped him, his body relaxing completely into Kanai’s touch, ears flicking once before going limp.

Kanai observed this with mild intrigue.

“You respond positively to touch stimulation,” he noted, scratching lightly at the base of Draeko’s ears, his movements slow, practiced.

Draeko sighed again, half asleep.

“…'s juss d’ice…" he slurred. “Dod’t stob…”

Kanai did not stop.

He simply adjusted Draeko’s blankets, checked his forehead again, and settled in silence.

Draeko’s breathing evened out, his tiny sniffles growing softer, his tail giving one final, lazy flick before stilling completely.

Kanai exhaled softly.

“Sleep, Luciftias.”

As Draeko finally slipped into deep, fevered sleep, the swirling images within his horns slowly stilled. No longer flickering between blurry visions or faltering attempts at tracking, they settled into their natural state—a slow, drifting pan of the cosmos.

Nebulae stretched lazily across the curved surface, painted in soft, glowing hues of violet and deep cerulean, dusted with flickering golden stars. The planets shifted in gentle, rhythmic orbit, their movements slow and dreamlike, matching the soft rise and fall of Draeko’s breathing.

Kanai watched in silence.

With each measured inhale, the light in his horns glowed and dimmed, like the pulse of some quiet, celestial heartbeat.

Kanai did not move.

Instead, his fingers drifted absently over Draeko’s damp hair, his touch cool and calculated, yet uncharacteristically tender.

The galaxies in Draeko’s horns continued their unhurried path across the vastness of space.

Kanai, for the first time in hours, allowed his eyes to close, his golden halo sliding slightly askew, and his grip on Draeko never loosening.

Draeko was safe.

And the universe—at least within his horns—slept peacefully with him.

The End ✨

[m1lo0o]

@thekinkyleopard ‘s OC, ALISTAR!!!!🤟

Al: “Can I induce you two while we fuck I’m so boredd.”

Drae and Kanai in unison: “NO AL.”

Al: “You two are no fun…”

THATS JUST HOW I PICTURED WHAT AL LOOKED LIKE WHEN SAYING “You two are no fun…” 🛐🛐🛐

I HOPE YOU LIKE IT KEZZI!!! ALSO @aller-geez OFC��

I haven’t drawn in a while, but Al inspired me…🧍‍♀️

MINORS DNI!!!

[aller-geez]

For oc interview? (; @thekinkyleopard

details about ocs!

send an emoji/description of emoji to learn more about a writer's oc! many of these are taken from my munday asks meme, because i thought it would be fun to make a version for characters too! the prompts are categorized by emoji type and given descriptions in case anyone can't see the symbols. can be used for roleplayers and any general writers alike! for roleplayers, these can also be used for your interpretations of canon characters if you so desire as well!

𝐎𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐒. 💭 THOUGHT BALLOON — what is your oc's MBTI, enneagram, and/or other personality aspects (if known/interested in)? 🚗 CAR — does your oc have a driver's license? can they drive/operate any automobiles/machinery besides cars? ✈️ AIRPLANE — does your oc like traveling, or do they consider themselves a more homey person? 🎮 VIDEO GAME CONTROLLER — what are three of your oc's favorite hobbies? 💍 RING — does your oc have any piercings? do they want any (more) piercings? 🖊️ BALLPOINT PEN — does your oc have any tattoos? do they want any (more) tattoos? 📚 BOOKS — what level of education has your oc most recently completed/is currently in (GED, undergraduate, grad school, phd, etc)? 🎻 VIOLIN — does your oc play any instruments? what is their skill level (beginner/intermediate/advanced/virtuoso/etc)? 🩹 ADHESIVE BANDAGE — does your oc have any physical and/or mental disabilities? 🩸 DROP OF BLOOD — what is your oc's blood type?

𝐒𝐘𝐌𝐁𝐎𝐋𝐒. 🎶 MUSICAL NOTES — what type of music does your oc like? do they listen to music very often? 💯 HUNDRED POINTS SYMBOL — share three random facts about your oc that others may not know. 💤 SLEEPING SIGN — is your oc a light sleeper or a heavy sleeper? how are their sleeping habits? 🔱 TRIDENT EMBLEM — can your oc swim? do they enjoy swimming? 🔺 RED TRIANGLE POINTED UP — does your oc know how to use any weapons? 🔶 LARGE ORANGE DIAMOND — does your oc know cpr? do they have any other medical expertise? 🚫 PROHIBITED — does your oc drink/smoke? do they do it regularly, or is it more on occasion or for special events?

𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄. 🌈 RAINBOW — what is your oc's sexual orientation/gender identity? what pronouns do they use? 🎄 CHRISTMAS TREE — what is your oc's favorite holiday? 🐶 DOG FACE — does your oc have any pets? 🐈 CAT — does your oc prefer a wide circle of friends or a few close friends? 🐷 PIG FACE — what is your oc's favorite animal? 🐉 DRAGON — what is your oc's favorite mythical creature? 🍃 LEAVES FLUTTERING IN WIND — what is/was your oc's favorite subject in school? 🌴 PALM TREE — does your oc have a green thumb? do they enjoy gardening? 🍎 RED APPLE — where was your oc born? do they still live in/around their place of birth or do they live somewhere else? how do they feel about their birthplace?

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒. ❤️ RED HEART — what are three of your oc's positive traits? 🤍 WHITE HEART — what are three of your oc's neutral/questionable traits? 💔 BROKEN HEART — what are three of your oc's negative traits? 💘 HEART WITH ARROW — what and/or who do(es) your oc consider the most important to them? 🧡 ORANGE HEART — does your oc tend to prioritize family or friends? 💛 YELLOW HEART — how many languages does your oc speak? what language(s) are they learning, if any? 💚 GREEN HEART — does your oc prefer being inside or outside? 💙 BLUE HEART — does your oc have any cool/special powers and/or abilities? how are they with magic, if it exists in their world? 💜 PURPLE HEART — what is your oc's ancestry/genetic background? 🖤 BLACK HEART — has your oc killed or seriously wounded anyone before? have they broken someone's heart and/or broken someone's trust?

𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐒. 🎂 BIRTHDAY CAKE — when is your oc's birthday? how old are they? what are their sun, moon, & rising signs (if known)? what about their tarot card, ruling planet, & ruling number (if known)? do they fit the typical traits of these sun, moon, & rising signs? 🍝 SPAGHETTI — what is/are your oc's favorite food(s)? 🍰 SHORTCAKE — what is/are your oc's favorite sweet(s)/dessert(s)? 🍦 SOFT ICE CREAM — what is/are your oc's favorite ice cream flavor(s)? 🍔 HAMBURGER — is your oc good at cooking? are they good at baking? which one do they prefer? 🥯 BAGEL — what does your oc's typical breakfast look like? do they usually eat breakfast? 🥪 SANDWICH — what does your oc's typical lunch look like? do they usually eat lunch? 🍛 CURRY AND RICE — what does your oc's typical dinner look like? do they usually eat dinner? 🍸 COCKTAIL GLASS — what is your oc's favorite alcoholic drink, if they can drink? ☕️ HOT BEVERAGE — does your oc prefer coffee, tea, hot chocolate, milk, water, or some other drink? how do they like to take this drink (ex. coffee with milk, hot chocolate with whipped cream, a specific kind of tea, etc)?

𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄. 😊 SMILING FACE WITH SMILING EYES — what are your oc's career/general life desires? what do they want to get the most out of life? 😖 CONFOUNDED FACE — is your oc an introvert, an extrovert, or an ambivert? do they let people in easily, or are they more reserved? 🤔 THINKING FACE — what are some of your oc's quirks/mannerisms? 🧐 FACE WITH MONOCLE — is your oc more logical or emotional? 🤓 SMILING FACE WITH GLASSES — is your oc chatty or quiet? are they at ease in social situations, or are they more shy? 🤩 FACE WITH STARRY EYES — is your oc a planner, or are they more spontaneous in their actions? 😥 SAD BUT RELIEVED FACE — is your oc prone to getting stressed out, or is it easy for them to keep their cool? 😓 DOWNCAST FACE WITH SWEAT — is your oc open-minded or stubborn? are they inquisitive or do they prefer to keep to their bubble of knowledge? 😞 DISAPPOINTED FACE — does your oc attract others, or do they tend to be left alone? 🤒 FACE WITH THERMOMETER — does your oc get sick easily? 👨‍👩‍👧‍👦 FAMILY WITH MOTHER, FATHER, SON AND DAUGHTER — how many people are in your oc's immediate family? how many people are in your oc's extended family? do they have aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, etc? who in their family are they closest with? are they close with their birth family, or do they have a found family?

[snz-thoughts]

felt creative so I did this piece for @aller-geez bc I really love their ocs design and relationship besides the snz stuff ofc 👀

OC art [ Levi @thekinkyleopard ! Remi @aller-geez ! ]

[aller-geez]

hii, saw your last reblog, the bronchitis scenario, and now i need a svelex fic/art about it 🙏🙏

Hey there Nonny! Okay I literally love you sm for this req, bc usually I don’t write dramatic fics, (and granted, this might not be exactly what you were looking for, but I digress…)

But oh my god, this is definitely my favorite Svelex fic to date, although @thekinkyleopard may disagree whenever she comes back and reads the 300 fics I’ve written since she’s been online 😂

It’s not technically a snzfic cause the prompt was about bronchitis, but definitely very whumpy at least •⩊• so I hope you enjoy it!

I also was so excited to post it that I didn’t really draw a cover, I just slapped some text on a gif so there’s that ˙ᵕ˙ 2.5k words

⤹ The prompt nonny is referring to is this one ⤸

This was supposed to be a kind of a follow up for Live, Laugh, Lose Consciousness found here, but doesn’t actually have any context so do with that what you will~

Elex had never been good at handling emotions. Anger? That was easy. Frustration, violence, resentment? Second nature. But this—this tight, twisting feeling in his chest as he sat on their couch, cradling S7en’s overheated, miserable body against him—this was something else entirely.

The kid was burning up, fever pressing into Elex’s skin through the thin, sweat-damp fabric of his hoodie. His hands, calloused and rough from years of fights and harder living, felt clumsy as they adjusted the nebulizer mask over S7en’s flushed face. The mist curled out from the edges, visible in the dim glow of the TV’s silent menu screen. He didn’t know how long they’d been sitting here, but his legs were going numb under S7en’s weight—not that he gave a shit.

The wheezing was bad. Worse than bad.

Every breath S7en managed to pull in rattled through his lungs like broken glass, thick and wet and wrong. It was the kind of sound that made something animal deep in Elex’s gut tighten in instinctive dread. This was bad. Too fucking bad.

S7en stirred against him, whimpering softly in his sleep before a cough wracked through him, convulsing his thin frame so hard Elex had to tighten his grip to keep him upright. The coughing fit went on longer than it should have, deep and raw, until S7en made this awful little sound—like he was drowning. Elex clenched his jaw, shifting his mate just enough to rub slow, grounding circles against his fevered back.

"Easy, dumbass," he muttered, voice lower than usual, almost gentle. “Breathe through it.”

Not that S7en had much of a choice.

His breath hitched weakly, another wheeze scraping its way out before he slumped heavier against Elex’s chest, boneless and exhausted. His head lolled to the side, cheek pressing into the crook of Elex’s shoulder, mouth falling slack with hoarse, congested snores that were barely distinguishable from his wheezing.

Elex swore under his breath.

This was not just bronchitis anymore. He’d seen S7en sick plenty of times—hell, the guy caught everything like a damn sponge—but this? This was the worst yet. Every inhale sounded like a battle, and every exhale took just a little too long to come.

Elex wasn’t a doctor. Didn’t know shit about medical stuff, other than how to patch up a knife wound or pop a dislocated shoulder back into place. But he knew what it looked like when someone couldn’t fucking breathe.

His fingers found their way back into S7en’s sweat-drenched hair, combing through the tangled mess with slow, deliberate motions.

“Geezus fuck,” he murmured, mostly to himself. “You really don’t do shit halfway, huh?”

S7en whined softly in response, shifting just enough to bury himself further against Elex like he was seeking out his warmth. Elex let him.

He’d let him do whatever the fuck he wanted, as long as he just—kept—breathing.

The badger was out of his depth.

He could handle a lot—had handled a lot. Fights. Crime. The constant weight of hiding who he really was. But this? Watching S7en struggle just to breathe in his arms, his chest barely rising before another wet, strained wheeze forced its way through his lungs—this was worse than any fight he’d ever been in.

The nebulizer wasn’t helping. The mist curled and dissipated into the thick air of their apartment, but S7en’s breathing wasn’t getting any easier. If anything, it was getting worse.

Elex gritted his teeth, eyes darting down to the weak rise and fall of his boyfriend’s chest. Too slow. Too shallow. Every inhale was a war, every exhale a desperate, failing attempt to clear the congestion that clung like tar in his lungs.

And he wasn’t winning.

"Hey." Elex shook him gently, trying to rouse him. "S7en. Wake the fuck up."

Nothing.

S7en barely reacted—just a sluggish twitch of his ears, a pathetic little whimper as another round of coughs rattled through his fragile frame. His head lolled heavier against Elex’s shoulder, burning hot and damp with sweat, his body boneless in a way that sent a bolt of pure panic through Elex’s chest.

No. No, no, no. This was bad. So fucking bad.

He pressed his fingers against S7en’s ribs, feeling the sharp, stuttering way his breath refused to move properly, how his body worked too hard for air that just wasn’t coming.

"Fuck," Elex hissed under his breath, his grip tightening.

He should’ve seen this coming. The second that fever started climbing, the second the wheezing didn’t ease up after the first treatment—he should’ve done something. But he’d let S7en convince him it was fine, that he’d been through worse, that he didn’t need to go to the damn hospital.

And he believed him.

Like a fucking idiot.

Another strangled noise clawed out of S7en’s throat, half-cough, half-miserable gasp, and his body jolted weakly against Elex’s chest. His breath hitched. Then hitched again.

And then—stopped.

For one horrific second, there was silence.

Elex’s blood ran cold.

"Sven—!"

A choking, rasping inhale suddenly tore through the quiet, and S7en shuddered hard against him, sucking in air like a drowning man breaking the surface. His hands jerked where they were limp in his lap, weakly gripping at Elex’s hoodie like he was trying to ground himself.

The breath wheezed out of him in a shaky, half-conscious moan of pain, his chest rising in uneven, frantic movements as his body fought violently to breathe again.

"Shit, shit, shit—stay with me, kid, come on—" Elex muttered, shifting to get a better hold on him, his own heartbeat a rapid-fire thud in his ears.

S7en was barely clinging to awareness, his lashes fluttering against fever-flushed cheeks. His lips, normally some shade of cocky smirk, were pale—too pale.

Elex had seen enough.

Fuck stubbornness. Fuck whatever argument S7en was gonna put up when he got dragged into the ER. They were going.

Now.

With an iron grip, Elex hooked an arm under S7en’s legs and lifted him like he weighed nothing—because right now, in this state, he did.

S7en groaned weakly at the sudden movement, head lolling against Elex’s shoulder. His tail, usually flicking with irritation or mischief, just hung limp.

Elex’s jaw clenched.

"Yeah, I know," he muttered, adjusting his hold as he strode toward the door. "But you don’t get a choice, kid."

And with that, he kicked the door open, disappearing into the cold, night air, S7en burning fever-hot against him the whole way down to his car.

Elex barely registered the sound of the car door slamming shut behind him as he maneuvered S7en into the passenger seat. His grip was too tight, too urgent, his fingers digging into S7en’s burning skin as he wrestled the seatbelt across his trembling frame. His breathing was still so wrong—fast and shallow, like his body was trying to compensate for what his lungs refused to give him.

“Stay with me, kid,” Elex muttered under his breath, fumbling with the belt buckle before finally clicking it into place. S7en didn’t respond. His head lolled against the window, his fluffy ears twitching slightly but otherwise unmoving.

Elex didn’t like that. He didn’t fucking like that.

His breath was coming fast, sharp through clenched teeth, but the only sound he was really hearing was the wheezing. The sick, labored pull of S7en's breath, like a fucking broken accordion barely holding together.

“Fucking hell,” Elex snarled under his breath, slamming the door shut hard enough to rattle the frame before bolting around the hood of the car and throwing himself into the seat. The keys shook in his hand as he shoved them into the ignition—too hard—the metallic clang echoing through the car before he twisted them with a forceful jerk. The engine roared to life, but Elex barely heard it over the pounding of his own heartbeat.

A string of curses tumbled under the badger’s breath as he slammed the gear shift into drive and tore out of the driveway, the tires shrieking as they lurched forward. He wasn’t supposed to be driving, but fuck that. Fuck everything.

He wasn’t about to let this stupid, stubborn cat die on him.

His hands were white-knuckled on the wheel. His eyes kept darting between the road and S7en, glancing over every few seconds to make sure he was still breathing.

His chest still rising? Yeah. Okay. Fuck.
But how long could he keep that up?

"Just hold on, S7en," Elex muttered, foot pressing harder on the gas. "We're almost there."

S7en had been so still, so out of it, that when he suddenly sucked in a sharp, shuddering breath and jolted forward with a strangled choke, Elex nearly swerved off the road.

"Geezus—!"

S7en gasped again, curling in on himself, his orange ears flattened completely as his claws scrabbled weakly across the fabric of his seatbelt. His breaths were shallow, coming way too fast, way too wrong.

Panic.
He was panicking.

"Hey, hey, hey—Sven—!" Elex reached over without thinking, resting a firm hand against S7en’s chest, feeling the uneven, frantic rise and fall beneath his palm. "You're okay. You're alright, just breathe, babe. Breathe slow."

S7en blinked blearily, his pupils blown wide in the dim glow of the dashboard. His chest stuttered with another ragged breath before he whined, soft and miserable. "Elex…?"

"Yeah, yeah, I got you," Elex said quickly, eyes darting back to the road for a split second before locking onto him again. "We're going to the ER."

S7en’s expression barely shifted, but the little furrow between his brows made Elex know the argument was coming before the hoarse words even left his mouth.

"’m fine," S7en rasped, his voice barely audible over the sound of the road beneath them. "Don’t need the—"

"Bullshit."

The word came out sharper than he intended. But Elex was done pretending this was fine, that this was something they could just ride out.

S7en flinched at the tone—then slumped back into the seat, squeezing his eyes shut.

He tried again, weaker this time. "Elex—"

"You can’t breathe, S7en."

Silence.

S7en coughed, a horrible, wrecked sound that rattled through his frame and left him panting for air. When he finally opened his eyes again, something had changed in them.

Realization.

Defeat.

And finally—reluctant, unspoken acceptance.

Elex swallowed hard. His grip tightened on the wheel.

S7en didn’t argue again.

Elex was driving like he stole the damn car, which—okay, he had stolen plenty of cars in his life, but S7en’s wasn’t one of them. Still, right now, it felt like he was outrunning something worse than the cops. He was pushing the speed limit, weaving through empty streets with white-knuckled fists, but no matter how fast he went, he couldn’t outrun the rasping, strained breaths coming from the passenger seat.

S7en’s head lolled against the window, his half-lidded, fever-glossy eyes barely tracking the streetlights as they flashed by. His mouth was parted, sucking in shallow gasps of air that weren’t nearly enough, and Elex could hear the congestion rattling thickly in his chest. Every breath sounded wrong. Too much and not enough at the same time.

Elex tried, just once, to lighten the mood. “Y’know, you bitch at me for my driving, but you’re real quiet right now,” he muttered, flicking a glance over at S7en in the dim glow of the dashboard. “Guess that means I win.”

It was meant to be teasing. Just a distraction.

But then S7en let out the weakest huff of amusement—and it shattered into a coughing fit so violent that his whole body pitched forward, his spine arching against the seatbelt. His face went red, scarlet, as he gasped and choked, his shoulders trembling with the force of each ragged hack. The sound was awful, wet and shredding, like it was scraping raw against his lungs.

“Shit, breathe—” Elex yanked one hand off the wheel, blindly reaching over to rub circles into S7en’s back as he choked. It wasn’t doing anything. It wasn’t helping. Elex gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached. “Almost there, kid, just hold on—”

They skidded into the ER parking lot a minute later, Elex slamming the gear into park without even turning off the engine. He whipped around to look at S7en, bracing for a complaint about his driving, about whipping the car around like it was some GTA getaway.

But S7en didn’t say anything.

He just slumped weakly against the window, his usual sharp, Cheshire grin nowhere to be found. His pupils were blown wide, dazed from fever, his breaths shallow and barely moving his chest.

That was not right.

“Fuck—no, fuck that—” Elex was out of the car in a flash, yanking S7en’s door open and hooking an arm around his waist, practically hauling him out of the seat. S7en barely reacted, his legs almost folding under him the second he was upright. His tail drooped, heavy and limp, barely twitching.

That scared Elex more than anything.

He half-carried, half-dragged S7en through the sliding doors of the ER, his heart slamming against his ribs. As soon as they stepped inside, the nurses at the front desk immediately jumped to action.

“S7en? Again?” One of them—Lillian, maybe?—was already reaching for a nebulizer before Elex could even say anything. “What are we working with this time?”

“Bronchitis—maybe pneumonia, I don’t fucking know—” Elex snapped, gripping the back of S7en’s hoodie so tight his nails almost tore through the fabric. “He’s burning up, he can’t breathe, he—”

“We’ve got him.”

That was the only thing they had to say before taking S7en out of his hands, guiding him toward a room like this was routine. And, fuck, it was routine. S7en was in here so often that nobody even blinked. They just got to work.

Before Elex knew it, he was sitting in an uncomfortable plastic chair beside S7en’s bed, watching the nurses slip a nebulizer mask over his boyfriend’s face.

The first few minutes were tense—S7en sat there, glassy-eyed and swaying, chest still rattling—but after a while, the mist started working its way into his lungs. His shoulders slumped, his body slowly unwinding, like his muscles had been clenched so tight for so long that he forgot how to not be in pain.

Elex sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees, staring at him in silence. Just waiting. Watching.

S7en’s ears twitched first. Then his tail. Then his orange eyes—bleary, but focused—flicked toward Elex, catching him staring.

“…y’look like you’ve seen a ghost,” S7en murmured, voice still wrecked but a little stronger.

Elex scoffed, raking a hand through his green hair. “…Yeah, well. You weren’t exactly breathin’ a few minutes ago, dumbass.”

S7en blinked slowly, processing. Then, to Elex’s absolute horror, his lips curled into a soft, lopsided grin.

“Worried about me?”

“No.”

S7en hummed, tipping his head back against the pillow, eyes slipping shut. “Liar.”

Elex didn’t dignify that with a response. He just exhaled, leaning back in his chair, his shoulders finally losing some of the tension they’d been carrying for hours.

For now, at least, S7en was breathing.

Elex would deal with whatever came next.

The end 🖤

[m1lo0o]

ALERT‼️ @thekinkyleopard @aller-geez 😆

🌀NEW SNZ OC 🌀

Birth Name: Reno Wisterain

(Re)Name:Reuveyte Euven Emwire!!

Nickname: Rui or Reuvey🌀😭

Species: Fallen Angel

Sexuality: GAY🏳️‍🌈

Age: 26 (2,600 yrs old)

Birthday: 5/14

Zodiac: Taurus

Height: 6’3 1/2

Appearance Description: See-through teal wings, white hair, white attire, teal/baby blue piercings, long lashes, teal markings under his eyes, star shaped pupils, always a fang sticking out of his mouth wether it’s opened or closed because I think that’s rlly cute🥺💙

🌀FACTS🌀

•Loves to make jokes (they are HORRID…😂)

•He likes to live on the edge even though he’s already dead (which is how he died in the first place💀)

•Literally obsessed with shit he finds in the most random places

•He used to have long lucious hair before he decided to chop it off (to him it got annoying to take care of🫠)

•All 4 of his siblings think of him as the big brother when in reality he’s literally the youngest🥰

•He isn’t afraid of anything😈

•He’s surprisingly good at voice impressions 🤩

•People often compliment his physique (Literally who wouldn’t 😩😩😩)

🌀PERSONA🌀

•Very confident even if he’s in the wrong…💀

•Literally doesn’t know the mean of ‘embarrassed/embarrassment’(Yes, he’s that confident😭)

•Very protective even if he sucks at fighting🫠

•He has a soft spot for cute things which is why he can’t resist animals even if he’s allergic to them😏

🌀LIKES🌀

•Lana Del Rey, Mitski, Laufey, Indila, The Neighbourhood, Isabel LaRosa, Arctic Monkeys, TV Girl, and Chase Atlantic ‼️

•Heights

•Night walks🤩

🌀DISLIKES🌀

•Untrustworthy people

•People who get jealous easily

SNZ🫠🫠🫠:

He doesn’t have the kink, but he loves to annoy the fuck out of anyone who does🤡

•He’s allergic to most animals and he loves animals(how ironic…😏)

The animals that really get him in a fit are birds and dogs😭

•He has very stuck sneezes and once they arent stuck it’s hard for him to stop ESPECIALLY when around those two animals, the others are just like hives, runny nose and eyes😂

•Allergy snz:

“Hiih—…hehh!!—HEK’TKSCHA!..ugh..”

“Hii—hhh—eh-eEKSHIEW!..bleh..”

“EHHhh..—EICHIEW!”

(He literally can’t stifle no matter how hard he tries🫠)

•He gets sick often like every month or so🥺🥺

•He’s a baby when he’s sick (he does it on purpose to fuck around with whoever is caring for him😏)

•His symptoms are high fever,mild sneezing, coughing and very very bad sore throat since he does those cool voice impressions 😎(If someone he knows and told him that they have the kink, he will definitely try to fake cough or sneeze even if he doesnt need to😂😂😂)

•Sick snz:

“…Heh—HEKTISCHHieW!”

“…Hiih—HIIHCKT’IEW!”

“—Heh..hiHh!—cHiEWw!”

🌀BACKSTORY🌀

TW MENTIONS; suicide, blood, descriptive gore‼️‼️

Reno Wisterain was born to a human woman who married an angel. They had a total of 5 kids, including Reno. The first born child is, Kyodo (male), second is Eloise(female), third is Siene(trans girl), and fourth is Akilay(male). They all valued Reno, the youngest as the older brother since he was the one who cared for the family the most. He would often be treated badly by Kyodo due to his jealousy for practically being the favorite child. Reno’s parents eventually kicked Kyodo out and he wasn’t seen for several years. The family lived in peace in that time frame until one night Reno woke up to several blood-curdling screams. He ran to the source of the sound and discovered that his whole family had been murdered by none other than a reveng-seeking Kyodo. Since Reno wasn’t that experienced in physical battle he unfortunately lost and died due to being stabbed countless, horrific times. Blood was spilled that night and Kyodo left with no regrets for his actions. That hatred he felt for Reno was unbearable. So unbearable that not long after he killed them all, he killed himself. Reno’s conciousness awoke to him back on earth, but as a fallen angel. He had lost his memory entirely. So he decided to name himself Reuveyte Euven Emwire (without knowing he was renaming himself). Now he currently wanders his hometown with confidence, completely unaware of anything that happened in the past.😭

THANKS FOR READING THIS FAR🥺🥺🥺

I’m obsessed with him already..🌀🌀🌀

I spent like 5-7 hrs on his design😩

[aller-geez]

@thekinkyleopard !!!!!!!

love is stored in the friend who reads your fanfiction