#snuffling and sneezing someone help | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sickskz · 4 months ago

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This is strange and specific but could you write a fic about Changbin having pollen allergies as spring starts and he gets embarrassed when someone (not neccessarily a member) points out that (ADORABLE) little scrunch thing he does with his nose when it's itchy 😭❤️ then the members kind of laugh at how cute he is and he gets even more shy lol

He does it 9 times out of 10 when he's just about to sneeze and also just in general when he's itchy and I think it's so fucking cute so could you write a fluffy, sneezy allergy fic for Changbin where the members look after him and stop him being embarrassed? Tysm 🫶

Also feel free to use my account for references lol because I'm obsessed with this man 😭💕

Okay, so I am absolutely in love with the nose scrunch 😭 it’s so cute???? So I definitely had to emphasise that quite a bit in this fic hehe.

Life has been rough the past few weeks so I really craved something fluffy, funny and sweet soooo this came to life🤌🏽

As the flowers bloom

Sickie: Changbin

Caretakers/fan club/affectionate bullies: Stray kids + staff ;)

____________________________________________

Changbin despised spring.

Well, the season itself was fine. The weather warmed up, the days got longer, and people generally seemed to be in a better mood. In theory, it was nice.

But in practice? It was one big nightmare.

The moment Changbin stepped outside the dorm that morning, he immediately knew it was going to be a long day.

The sun was shining, the birds chirping and the air felt undeniably thick with the mixed scents of blossoming flowers. It was a beautiful day to most, but Changbin could already feel the all too familiar tickle in his nose as the pollen spores infiltrated his sinuses.

Even though he had taken his medication, he knew there was no way to truly avoid his symptoms during the height of springtime. He simply had to endure it while his sinuses turned into a battered battleground, just like every other year.

By the time they arrived in the studio to get ready for an interview, his nose was already tickling persistently, and his eyes felt just a little too watery. He snuffled quietly, pressing his knuckle against the tip of his nose to try and ease the discomfort, but it didn’t do much.

The dressing room was its usual chaotic mess of makeup artists, stylists and members moving in and out, preparing for their shoot. Changbin sat in his chair, trying not to fidget too much as a stylist ran her fingers through his hair, adjusting the strands so they fell just right.

As soon as the stylist was satisfied, a familiar makeup artist stepped forward and started working on his face. Changbin did his best to sit still, but he couldn’t help squirming uneasily. His eyebrows kept furrowing as he tried to suppress the itching in his nose, his eyes.. His entire face at this point, really.

“Changbin-ah..” The makeup artist chided gently, pausing midmotion. “You need to stay still.” She tutted, adjusting the beauty sponge in her hand before continuing to blend his foundation.

“Sorry.” Changbin mumbled sheepishly, clearing his throat as he forced his body to stay still. He pressed his lips together, fingers curling against his thighs in an attempt to ground himself.

“Are you okay?” Her voice softened, and her gaze lingered on him with quiet concern. She must have noticed the redness rimming his eyes, or the persistent sheen of tears that seemed to linger within them.

“Yeah.. just allergies.” Changbin replied with a sigh, sniffling again for emphasis. He could feel the itch traveling, teasing at the back of his throat and throughout his airways.

The makeup artist hummed softly, focusing back on her task. “Ah.. Springtime must be tough for you, hm?”

“You have no idea.” Changbin groaned, his voice tinged with frustration. He watched idly as she moved her hands to her belt, pulling up a wide brush and a powder compact.

She chuckled sympathetically, her hands steady as she leaned in and gently started dabbing the powder across his skin. The light pressure from the sponge had been fine, but the moment she dusted the brush of powder near his nose, the once small tickle spread through his sinuses like wildfire.

Instinctively, he wrinkled his nose in a subconscious attempt to chase the itch away, his breath hitching.

Unfortunately for him, it didn’t work.

“Hh’tssCH!”

The makeup artist froze, and for a split second, Changbin was worried he’d ruined her work. But then she let out a delighted gasp, her hands clasping together in excitement.

“Oh my god. That was so cute!”

Changbin blinked up at her, completely stunned by the unexpected reaction. “What?”

“You do this little scrunch thing with your nose before you sneeze! It’s soooo cute!”

Immediately, Changbin stiffened, his stomach plummeting to the floor as he realised what she was on about.

“No, it’s not-”

“It is!” She insisted, spinning toward the stylist beside her, who was busy working on Felix’s hair. “Did you see that? The cute thing he did with his nose? Oh- look! He’s doing it again!”

Of course, she had to point it out just as the itch flared up unbearably. He sniffed sharply, his nose wrinkling on its own accord as he fought another sneeze.

It was a losing battle.

“Hh’tssCHh! Hhh’KTTSCHH’uh!”

Changbin barely managed to duck his head, stifling the rapid sneezes into his cupped hands as warmth rushed into his cheeks.

The moment she called attention to it, it was game over for him. He knew that all too well.

Hyunjin's head immediately snapped towards them from the other side of the room, like a bloodhound catching a scent. “Wait, what? What did he do?”

Felix, who was seated to his right, narrowed his eyes at him through their shared mirror as if he was searching for evidence. “Wait, I didn’t see it. Do it again!”

“N-No?!” Changbin blurted out quickly, eyes widening. He blinked rapidly, desperately trying to clear the stinging, irritated sensation, but it was no use.

“Do what again?” Jisung asked as he rose from the couch in the back, his interest piqued. Lee Know wordlessly trailed after him as he stepped forward, his expression equally as expectant.

“Changbin scrunches his nose like a little bunny before he sneezes!” The makeup artist announced proudly, as if she had just uncovered the greatest secret of the universe. “It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen..”

Changbin groaned, sinking lower in his seat as if he hoped the chair would swallow him whole. He could already feel his ears burning, and the increasing attention wasn’t helping his case in the slightest. “I… I-It’s not a thing.”

“No, no, it definitely is.” Chan interjected, his grin carrying a mischievous glint as he caught Changbin’s eye in the mirror. “I’ve seen it before. I just never realised how cute it was until now.”

“It’s not cute!” Changbin protested, shifting uncomfortably under their relentless scrutiny. His lips pulled into an involuntary pout, and he absentmindedly rubbed at his nose again in an attempt to quell the tenacious itch.

“Hold on, I need to see this.” Seungmin perched his chin on Jisung's shoulder, having left his seat beside Chan to join in on what felt like an act of public humiliation at this point.

Changbin gawked at him in disbelief, eyes wide. “Wha- no-what? There’s nothing to see!” His voice cracked slightly, and he nervously chewed on his bottom lip as he felt the heat spread across his cheeks. Why were they all so insistent on this?

Jisung, grinning from ear to ear, nudged Seungmin with his elbow. “You think if we talk about pollen or something, he’ll do it again?”

“Probably..” Seungmin mused, tilting his head in mock contemplation. “The power of suggestion.”

“Guys, stop–”Changbin said, his voice rising in protest, but it was too late.

As if on cue, his nose twitched and scrunched up again. Not followed by a sneeze this time, but it was just barely avoided.

The room practically exploded.

“OH MY GOD! THAT WAS ADORABLE!” Hyunjin shrieked, his hand clutching onto his chest as if he had just witnessed a life altering event. He seemed to have teleported across the room to join the group encircling Changbin's chair.

Felix threw his head back as he let out a delighted laugh, holding a hand to his stomach. “I CAN’T! Oh my god, Binnie- why is that so cute?!”

“I feel like I just witnessed something sacred...” Jisung said dramatically, wiping a fake tear from his eye as he leaned back into Seungmin for support.

Lee Know nodded with exaggerated solemnity. “Yeah, this moment ought to be cherished.” He said sagely, though the smirk on his face betrayed his amusement as he watched Changbin wither away under the weight of his own embarrassment.

“It really is like a little bunny!” Felix gasped in awe between bouts of laughter, and the others quickly followed suit with an eruption of giggles, coos and agreements. The staff seemed to be just as humoured by the situation as his members, much to Changbin's dismay.

Hyunjin was practically tripping on his feet with excitement, whipping his phone up from his pocket and pointing it directly at the red faced man who was held captive in his chair.

“I need this documented.” The dancer stated, his eyes locked on Changbin as he stared at him through the camera. “Pretty please, Binnie? Just one more time?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Come on, just think about pollen again.” Seungmin teased, crossing his arms over his chest with a taunting expression. God, Changbin wanted to wipe that smug smirk right off his face.

Changbin shot Seungmin a glare that was supposed to be fierce, but the effect was entirely lost. His red, watery eyes and the way he kept sniffling every other second robbed him of any intimidation he might have had.

Safe to say, hay fever didn’t render him a very threatening sight.

“I will fight you.”

But just as the challenge left his lips, the inevitable happened. As the itch rushed through his sinuses, his nose scrunched up once more, completely out of his control.

Hyunjin must have gasped loud enough to be heard into the next room, undoubtedly capturing the moment with his phone camera. “OH MY–”

“That was the best one yet!” Jisung wheezed, turning around to grip onto Seungmin's arm for support as he doubled over with laughter.

Seungmin cackled out that evil laugh of his, giving Changbin a light slap on the back. “Oh, this is incredible.”

Lee Know leaned in to peer at Hyunjin's phone screen with a sly smirk. “I’m gonna need that in slow motion.”

“Put it in a loop!” Jeongin chimed in, bubbling with laughter as he hovered beside them.

Changbin groaned, burying his face in his hands and slouching forward in defeat. “I hate you all.”

“No, you don’t.” Jeongin snorted softly, clearly revelling in Changbin’s discomfort a little too much for his liking. Damn him.

Changbin looked up at their maknae with a deadpan expression, sighing deeply with a mixture of exasperation and resignation.

He was right. He didn’t.

Felix, noticing just how mortified Changbin was, softened his gaze. He reached out for a box of tissues, grabbing a couple and handing them over to the sniffly rapper. “Aww, Binnie, don’t be embarrassed” he said softly, offering him a warm smile. “We just think you're cute~”

“Yeah, we’re just teasing.” Chan supplied, extending his arm out to give Changbin’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “We’re not trying to make fun of you, really.”

The room died down from the burst of laughter, leaving only a few small chuckles between the lot of them.

Chan’s expression shifted, his eyes flickering between the clock on the wall and Changbin. “More importantly, how are you feeling? Are you going to be okay for the interview?”

Changbin hesitated, a little taken aback by the sudden shift from teasing to concern. He still felt congested, his sinuses throbbing and the faint tickle was steadily getting more invasive... but it was just allergies.

Besides, he wasn’t entirely miserable yet, just annoyingly flustered to top it all off.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Changbin mumbled, dabbing at his nose with a tissue as he considered it. Then, he doubled over, pressing his face into the tissue as his shoulders tensed again.

“Hh’TSCHH! Hhh’CHUUh!”

This time, there was actually no laughter or amused teasing. Instead, Changbin felt hands patting his back soothingly and Felix giving his thigh a gentle squeeze.

After a brief silence, Hyunjin couldn't keep himself from letting out a soft “Aww.”

“No.” Changbin raised his finger at him in warning, snuffling softly as he wiped his nose again. “Don’t start.”

“I wasn’t going to say anythi-“

“We can ask for a short delay if you need a minute.” Lee Know cut in sharply, squinting his eyes at Hyunjin as he silently told him off.

Changbin huffed out a small chuckle, shaking his head dismissively. “No, I’ll be okay, promise.” He reassured, managing a faint smile as he straightened up again. He was a little touched by their sudden sincerity. They weren’t just teasing him, after all, they genuinely cared. “But…thanks guys, really”

“Don’t mention it.” Chan pat his shoulder one last time before settling back in his chair. “Alright everyone, let’s get the hair and makeup wrapped up, we’re supposed to start in under 5 minutes.”

As the others scurried back to their seats, Jeongin stepped forward to hand Changbin a water bottle, his lips still carrying an amused smile despite the thoughtful gesture. “Here, at least drink something before we go in. You sound a little stuffy..”

Changbin took the bottle with a small, grateful smile, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. Even with all the teasing, he knew his members always had his back. “Thanks, Innie.”

“We’ll cover for you if you need us to, but you already know that.” Felix assured him casually, his smile ever so warm and comforting.

Changbin nodded softly and took a sip of his water, peering back up at his designated makeup artist with a mix of bashfulness and anticipation.

Despite the attention and teasing his little nose scrunch had garnered, Changbin couldn’t bring himself to be mad at her for inadvertently causing the ruckus. She clearly hadn’t meant any harm by it.

Instead, he leaned back in his chair and tried to relax his shoulders, giving her a small smile. “You’ll make me look presentable at least.. Right, noona?”

The makeup artist, clearly unfazed by the earlier scene, met his gaze with a sly grin. She was already rifling through her supplies again, preparing for a quick but precise touch-up.

“Of course, Changbin-ah.” She replied naturally, her voice full of confidence. “Your allergies are no match for my skills.”

#stray kids sickfic #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #skz sickfic #kpop sickfic #sickfic #sickfic blog #stray kids #skz #stray kids sick #sick changbin #allergies #stray kids hurt/comfort #skz hurt/comfort

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oh-no-my-hand-slipped · 5 months ago

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We know noseguard trapdoors exist But what about Noseguard Chests, and Noseguard Wardrobes(Especially a Noseguard Wardrobe for, say... a maid?)

If you can fashion a lock for something, you can have a NoseGuard! Boxes, chests, luggage, even diaries! Usually, the limits don’t involve the what, but the where. Depending on what a NoseGuard is made of, it is sensitive to many things. Imagine it in cold climates, on a dusty shelf, buried.

One of the greatest adversaries of NoseGuards is dust…which you will soon see.

************************************

This room had obviously not been used in years — much like the rest of the manor. How could a once such prosperous, wealthy household, Estella wondered, fall into such disrepair?

Well, no matter. If she had anything to do with it, this study would soon be sparkling from the edge of the chandelier to the corners of its plush red carpet.

But first, she needed supplies. Her master had told her something about a maid’s closet in this room, but with all of the old and broken furnishings filling every inch, Estella knew it would be some time before she found was she was looking for.

Or so she thought.

“Ooooooh…”

Estella jumped. The groaning only got louder, growing more pained with every breath. Was it a lonely spirit? A mischievous ghost? One of the errand boys playing a trick?

She held her feather duster in front of her, brandishing it like a deadly weapon.

“Show yourself!” she said, hoping she sounded just as brave as the guards. “What are you doing in my master’s house?”

There was no reply other than a few moans, punctuated by thick sniffles.

Estella lowered her duster. This wasn’t someone playing a trick — this was someone who needed help.

“Are you alright?” she called, craning her neck over the mountain of velvet and polished oak. “I don’t mean to harm you,” she added, kindly.

After a few moments, a muffled, sniveling voice shuddered from nearby.

“Oh, thangk heavens…snf!…please, this rug is ever s-hoh-! So very d-duhsty-!”

Estella looked around the room, her eyes soon falling on a, in her opinion, quite ugly rug. The green wool was decorated with brown diamonds, each surrounded by a pattern of yellow vines. In other words, it looked more like a rotten garden than anything Estella would have pleasure in cleaning.

She grabbed both sides of the rug, using all her strength to heave the thing aside. As it piled on a floor next to her, a cloud of dust rose around her. She coughed, fanning the plume from her face.

“Oh, at last! To be free frob that horrid prison!”

Estella jumped again. The voice was right in front of her, but she saw no one. All there was under the rug was an old wardrobe, decorated with simple iron edges.

However, she did notice one strange thing — instead of a knob or a lock, a large iron nose sat in the middle of the door. As Estella took a closer look, she saw a ring of rust surrounding its nostrils, as well as the remains of a rodent’s straw nest stuffed into them.

Hold on, was it…? Did Estella just see the nostrils quiver?

Suddenly, the iron nose sniffled, bits of straw falling onto the floor. Estella stumbled back in surprise, falling onto a nearby fainting couch. Another cloud of dust rose up between them.

“Oh, pardon mbe!” the nose said, bridge wrinkling. “I didn’d bean to…t-to…”

The dust was swirling around the nose, and it began to snort and snuffle.

“Th-Thad blasted d-d-duh-! Huh-!”

The nose hitched, its nostrils flaring, its septum trembling, until…

“Hoooh dear…”

The nose’s nostrils drooped, causing more straw to flutter from them. Estella got to her feet, approaching the nose sideways, leaning away.

“B-Blessings?” she stammered.

“Blessings have ndo place before a sdeeze,” the nose said, sniffing. “Ooh, I haven’d had a good sdeeze in years. Not that adyone has required mby contents…”

Estella squinted.

“Must someone make you sneeze in order to open the door?”

“By master’s orders, yes, to be sure ndo rapscallion steals the rags for handkerchiefs and the like.”

The nose sighed.

“Bud I’ve been stuffed so full of dust and straw thad there is simply ndo room for a sdeeze.”

Estella smiled, patting the side of the wardrobe.

“Well, you are among good company, Master Nose!”

She lifted the corner of her apron.

“I’ll have you and this room as clear as a dead man’s debts!”

She began rubbing the inside of the nose’s nostrils with her apron, tugging out the tightly packed debris.

“Ohoh-! Do be cahah-!”

Estella felt its nostrils flare against her fingers, even though she was as gentle as she could be. The nose sniffled and snorted and sighed and gasped, only breathing “a b-bid to the left” or “r-right!” between them.

Estella was polishing the outside of the nose’s nostrils when the felt the whole wardrobe shudder, and the door seemed to bend with every sharp hitch the nose choked out.

“I d-do - hiiiih-! - th-think I…st-stand bahahaHAAAAAH-!”

Estella hurried behind the fainting couch. The nose’s door seemed almost ready to shake of its hinges as the nose bent upwards, showing its massive (but clear) nostrils.

“HAKSH’SHIEEEHIIIIIIIEW!”

A fine yellow spray misted the air above Estella, giving the air a metallic smell. The wardrobe door flung open with a rusty squeal. The nose lost no time in making up for the dismal dustiness it endured, and continued to sneeze for quite some time afterward.

“Snnnnnf - oh, by the gods,” the nose said as Estella finally revealed herself again.

“Bless-ings,” Estella said. She began looking inside the wardrobe for her cleaning supplies.

“Oh, no, my dear, blessings to you. I haven’t sneezed so well since my smiting!”

“Well, you’ll have plenty more to sneeze after soon,” Estella chuckled, bringing out a glass bottle of freshening water.

She sniffed it, and her own nose wrinkled. Her eyelids fluttered, and she pitched forward into the wardrobe.

“hhhp’tcHIEW! TSHIEW! TSHHHHIEW!”

“Blessings for a magnificent sneeze!” the nose cried.

Estella sniffled. “I…my pleasure?”

The nose hummed.

“I’m sure anyone would be quick to free your lock, with a sneeze like that!”

Estella laughed, closing the wardrobe door again.

“A strange compliment to be sure, but one I have no qualms with, Mr. Nose.”

#snz fic #ohnos fics #snzfic #snz #snzblr #snz kink #snz things #snezblr #snzario #snez kink #snz scenario #snezario #snz drabble #whump

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bewitchedfeathers · 6 months ago

Text

Sick Viktor - Ja/yvik Snz Fic

A wonderful anon requested sick Viktor with established Ja/yvik. I hope you enjoy this little ficlet! Thank you kindly for your request!

And thank you to everyone who took the time to leave kind words on my fics! 💜

Jasha is a russian petname for Jayce and Vitya is a petname for Viktor.

------

Jayce and Viktor left the lab for the night, Jayce's hand pressed to Viktor's lower back like he was guiding him. Which would normally be enough for Viktor to smack someone but Viktor knew it was just an excuse to touch and not unsolicited aid.

Jayce was looking Viktor over from the corner of his eyes. He'd been sniffly and congested all day, not all together unusual with Viktor's seasonal allergies, but there was a tell Jayce had picked up on. When Viktor was sick his accent tended to get thicker. And about halfway through the day Jayce had picked up on Viktor's accent growing more pronounced.

He didn't look anymore sleep deprived than usual, thankfully. But his nose looked red around the edges like Viktor had been rubbing it all day.

Viktor caught his gaze with a curious raised brow. “What?”

“Just wondering when you were going to tell me you'd caught a cold,” Jayce said casually. But his gaze was daring Viktor to even try lying.

Viktor let out a long suffering sigh. “Its a mild head cold. Snfsnf. You don't need to worry so much.”

“Ha, I knew it,” he said smugly, hoping to get a laugh out of Viktor.

Viktor rolled his eyes but Jayce could see the twitch of his lips that meant he was amused. Then he rubbed at his nose, expression starting to glaze over. His feet stumbled to a stop as his breath hitched.

“Hhh..hh’hh…HH’GZT-chh…hhh’IZSSHHxt…KZkt-Tccht-huhhh…sndff…”

“Bless you, Vik.”

“Mm. Sndff,” he hummed in acknowledgement but his expression remained distracted. His nostrils twitching against one long finger as he attempted to quell the lingering itch.

“hhh….huhhh…” Viktor's head tipped subtly upwards and Jayce could see the damp inner edges of his nose trembling with the need to sneeze.

Jayce grabbed a kerchief from his pocket, that he usually carried for Viktor's allergies, and confident the halls were empty at this time in the evening, brought it to Viktor's nose gently cradling it in the folds.

“Just let them out, Vitya. You'll feel better if you do,” he quietly encouraged. Viktor was a notorious stifler even when it was just the two of them. But sometimes it drew his sneezing out longer than if he'd just let a few out to begin with.

“Hehh’hh-IDJSSHmphh…hh’hh’ISSHmphh…hh…” He cracked open his eyes and a few sneezy tears rolled down his right cheek that Jayce wiped away with his thumb. “Hhh’Hihh-EISSHHuhhhh…sndff…ngh”

“Bless you. Now wasn't that better,” he wiped Viktor's nose clean but Viktor stopped him from helping him blow his nose, gently grabbing his wrist and then taking the kerchief from him.

“Thank you, Jasha,” he murmured softly, cheeks a little pink from Jayce tending to his nose. Especially where someone could in theory walk by and see.

He pressed the folded over kerchief beneath his nose, snuffling against the fabric. And then cupped it around his nose to blow into it. He let out a quiet sigh when he was done.

Jayce wrapped an arm around his waist and pressed a kiss into his hair, half cradling him for moment. Viktor leaned into the comforting contact, savoring it before he pulled away.

Jayce smiled at him warmly and then returned his hand to his lower back. “Lets go home, Vitya.”

Viktor nodded and they started walking again but this time Viktor leaned into Jayce's side letting him take some of his weight. And Jayce felt warmed by the act of trust all the way back to the home they shared.

----

Let me know if you like it! Thank you for reading!

[Snz Fic Masterlist]

#snz #snzblr #snzfic #snzfucker #sneeze kink

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moonstruckme · 2 years ago

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Hey love! How are you? I hope everything is well. Could I request a fluffy fic where the reader is sick and the marauders dote all over her? I have been sick the past couple of days with high fever and I am in desperate need to be taken care of lol. It doesnt matter if it is a poly!marauders or one of the boys. You can choose whichever you are in the mood for. Thanks in advance <3

Hi sweetheart, I'm good, thanks! I'm sorry to hear you're unwell :( Soooooo relatable, basically all I do when I'm sick is fantasize about someone taking care of me. I've been dying to write a roomate!James fic so I took this in that direction, hope that's okay. Thank you for requesting and I hope you feel better soon lovely!

roommate!James x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

James listens as the door to your room opens and closes again, his unease mounting.

You’re typically quiet, but lately you’ve been quieter than usual. Normally, James can count on at least seeing you in passing, or hearing your comings and goings signaled by the ridiculously harsh creaking of the front door. You sometimes play soft music while you cook, or have a friend over to chat in your room, or listen to a podcast while you get ready in the morning.

For the last few days, there’s been none of that. If it weren’t for the occasional sound of your bedroom door and your key still on its hook in the entryway, James might think you’d moved out.

He’s been walking past your door more often today, curious and a bit concerned at what’s keeping you confined in there. Though he knows he should be more ashamed of his eavesdropping, who else is responsible for making sure you’re okay if not your roommate? Anyway, if one day he finds you dead in your bedroom, “I was trying to mind my own business” isn’t going to make a very good excuse.

When he goes by on his fourth unnecessary trip to the kitchen that afternoon, James is stopped by the startling noise of rapid-fire sneezes from behind your closed door. He’s knocking before he can second-guess himself. “Hey, you alright in there?”

There’s a great snuffling sound, and then, “Yeah, thanks,” your voice muffled.

James hesitates. He’s not sure what your definition of “alright” might be, but he doesn’t feel right going about his day when you’ve locked yourself away and are acting so strange. “Can I come in?”

“No.”

Well, that’s about as much confirmation that you’re not alright as he needs. “Are you decent?”

“I—yeah, but James—”

He cracks the door, sticking his head in just as you dive beneath the covers of your bed. The floor is covered in tissues and wrappers of some sort, dirty dishes stacked on your desk. The room actually smells like sickness, likely a result of your being in here without opening a door or window for days.

“James, please go.” Your voice is muffled by the covers, but now James can hear how congested it sounds. “I don’t want to get you sick.”

“We’re roommates, love,” he says, taking a few tentative steps toward you. “Whatever you have, I’m gonna get it eventually.”

You sneeze, your form tensing under the covers. “Not if I stay in here and you stay out there,” you insist nasally.

James crouches by your bed, careful to avoid the tissues and what he now sees are cough drop wrappers. He tugs at your sheets until you release them, pulling them down to reveal your very flushed, very displeased face. James can’t help it; his eyebrows come together and his bottom lip juts out in pity, and your glare intensifies.

Of course, it’s hard to appear very intimidating when your nose is twitching as you fight off another sneeze. After a moment you give in, pressing a tissue under your nose as your shoulders hitch. James winces in sympathy.

“How long have you been like this?” he asks, taking advantage of your distraction to touch the back of his hand to your forehead. He’s not surprised to find it warm, but the intensity of the heat that meets his hand has him inhaling sharply. He presses his palm to your cheek to be sure, but it’s the same. “Merlin, you’re burning up.”

“S’not that bad,” you say, though your next sniffle undermines the claim.

James brushes a sweaty strand of hair from your forehead, worrying his lip. “Seems pretty bad, love. I think we ought to get you to a doctor. You shouldn’t be this warm.”

You’re shaking your head before he’s finished speaking. “James, no. I want to stay here, at home.” You pull your blankets closer about your shoulders protectively. “I don’t want to sit in some freezing waiting room for hours just so they can tell me I have a cold.”

James looks at you for a moment. Your clammy forehead, your poor pinkened nose. A tiny shiver takes you, making you burrow under the blankets until just your pleading eyes are peeking out at him, and that’s what softens him to your cause. “Alright,” he sighs, “but then you need to let me take care of you.”

“But—”

“I don’t care about getting sick,” he cuts you off, leveling you with his sternest look. It’s not very well-practiced, but it does the trick, and you settle down. “You let me help, or I’ll take you to someone who will.”

You look resentful at being given an ultimatum, but nod.

“Great.” James grins, his usual affability returned. “Now when was the last time you ate?”

From that moment on, you’re on strict bed rest. James cancels his plans with Remus and Sirius for that night, both of them sending wishes that you start to feel better soon, and a call to his mum grants him access to her recipe for “get well soup.” You don’t have an appetite, but James coaxes you into eating a few spoonfuls, and the warm sensation in your throat proves too soothing to let a silly thing like appetite prevent you from finishing the bowl. James cleans your room as you eat, ignoring your protests and embarrassed groaning as he puts your tissues and wrappers into a bin, placing it beside your bed for easier access when you need it. Then, he gives you a steaming bowl of water, making you sit with a towel over your head in your own personal sauna. You complain about feeling disgusting as your sinuses empty themselves out, but admit to breathing a bit easier once it’s done. Soon you’re feeling well enough to sit up, propping yourself up on a few pillows with a full stomach and slightly clearer nasal passages while James takes your temperature with the thermometer he’d run to get from the corner store.

“Can’t believe we didn’t have one of these,” he mutters as he holds it in your ear. “One of us was bound to get ill eventually, it’s a miracle it’s taken this long.” You hum, your eyes trained on the inside of James’ forearm. It hasn’t escaped his notice that you’ve been looking at him more today than you ever have before; he supposes he owes that to the glaze of fever he can still detect in your eyes. James would never embarrass you by mentioning it, but the warmth of your gaze is nice, and he’s glad you’re not sharp enough at the moment to notice he’s as flushed as you. The thermometer beeps, and he pulls away, the tension in his brow relaxing a bit as he reads the number. “Well, it’s not nothing, but it seems lower than earlier.” He feels at your forehead again, nodding to himself. “Yeah, definitely lower.” James leaves his hand on your face a tenth of a second too long, and your eyes raise to his.

“That’s good,” you say, giving him a small smile. He returns it heartily. “I feel better, thanks.”

“Yeah?” he asks, his smile falling away when you give a small sneeze and then wince. “You sure, love? Is your head still hurting you?”

“It’s not as bad,” you sniffle, grabbing a tissue to wipe your nose. “I really think all this is helping, James, thank you. Sorry you have to be around me when I’m so gross.”

“You’re not gross, you’re lovely,” he says dismissively, moving the box of tissues closer to you when you reach for it again. “You’re incapable of being anything but lovely.”

You actually snort, the sound loud and wet. “Yeah, okay. Whatever you say.”

“I do say,” James insists. “And I’m the only one here not delirious with fever, so I think that makes mine the final opinion.”

Your cheeks get impossibly pinker, almost matching the hue of your nose, but your smile rivals James’ own. “Well, anyway, thanks for taking care of me. I really appreciate it.”

James doesn’t bother to pretend he’s feeling for a fever this time, placing a hand on your cheek and rubbing at the skin under your eye affectionately. He thinks his heart actually turns to mush when you lean into the touch. “No thanks necessary, sweetheart. Happy to do it any time.”

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a-dauntless-daffodil · 1 year ago

Text

the idea of a "not zombie plague" at the hotel.... what an effing comedy it could be...

thanks @sunsetcougar and @insert-funny-name-here69 for making me picture it XD

Vaggie comes back from Cannibal Town snuffling, no big deal, maybe it's all those feathered hats and fur stoles (sUSaN) or nice flowers or whatever. Vaggie goes to bed like normal, wakes up the next day GROANING, stiff and grumpy and shuffling around the hotel

Oh no!- Charlie the protective gf cries- what if there's some hellborn illness angels are weak towards??? It's time to physically carry Vaggie back to bed for rest (and keep doing that a few times until it sticks and she puts Razzle on guard at the door) (also print out and past their room's windows with pics of her own pleading pout so Vaggie won't try flying to freedom again) (and crashing again)

well this is kinda a weird and kinda funny for the rest of the hotel... until the Symptoms start to spread

sneezing is the first stage, the infection fun, a sign you've already got it, but everyone wants to blame Susan and Susan's specific perfectly matching (aka hostile harsh and annoying) choice of perfume lingering around the hotel, so they all (not vaggie) (vaggie thinks susan is The Coolest) just walk around sneezing and yelling "FUCK YOU SUSAN" afterwards instead of "bless you" or whatever

loss of appetite isn't that big a deal at first- between the guy with the drug addiction, his friend also with a drug addiction, an alcoholic, a tiny woman who can fill up on a single ritz cracker, a guy who eats rotting dear corpses, a pig who regularly gets his appetite spoiled with treats, an egg boi who doesn't know what he eats without his boss around to tell him, a goat demon stuffie hell bent on only consuming doughnuts, a demon princess too busy singing and scheming happiness plans to do things like SLEEp never mind EAT, her girlfriend who will care about stuff like hunger once everything else is taken care of and not a second before, an the KING of hell who hasn't even had an appetite for LIFE in ages.... no one notices the lack of eating going on at first, until it's Too Late

stiffness and aching of the joints has everyone complaining when it hits tho. Angel Dust is pissed it got in the way of his performance. Husk feels old again and gets grumpy when he gets called old man which makes him even MORE grumpy. Niffty enjoys it for 4 minutes until it throws off her rat kill rate. Alastor pretends to feel nothing but every time he moves there's a horrible CRACK from any and all bending joints and Cherri finds him stiffly stuck in a chair a least once. Cherri is the best off bc she mainly just feels like she got blown up and is used to it. Vaggie is having flash backs to the pain and weakness right after losing her first wings- Charlie wants to help but is hunched over so far she regularly rests her chin on Vaggie's head and doesn't have the energy to drag her back to bed. Lucifer is ACTUALLY hobbling around using his cane, snapping to false casualness whenever someone looks his way, secretly using a rubber duck as a stress ball. They grudgingly agree they can't blame this one on Susan (actually...) and migrate to the lobby as a group, trying to figure out what KIND of hell bug they've somehow caught.

Now is where the loss of appetite finally gets notices. Vaggie dragged out some food for the war council and NO ONE can stand even LOOKING at it. there are, however, at lot of OTHER looks going around....

Husk edges away from Angel, who's eying him even more hungrily than usual but without any of the sultriness. Niffty scuttling past gets his attention and makes his tail do the little pre-pound wiggle as he sinks his claws into the sofa to keep from FOR REAL pouncing. Cherri is staring at her bestie Angel Dust and gritting her many sharp teeth at the hallucination that he's limbs are actually full of drugs. Alastor's eye is twitching, the hotel gusts all having taken on the shape of deer carcasses from his point of view. Lucifer is fine until he looks over at Vaggie- he looks away instantly and shoves his ducky in his mouth to BITE, panics, yanks it free again, and when he looks down it's morphed into a stylized duck version of Vaggie with bite marks. Vaggie has gone dead quiet and is staring at her future father in law, clutching her spear, mentally roasting him over hellfire on a spit in her mind's eye.

Charlie sees all this happening like what is going ON guys, why are you all acting so... sooooo............Hm. Charlie wonders aloud if Razzle, Dazzle, and the Egg Boi have always had such a close resemblance to juicy little roast chickens?

Then Niffty bites Husk's tail and the hotel is overrun from the inside

it's not a ZOMBIE plague- it's CANNIBAL FLU- and now sinners are chasing sinners down the halls with knives and forks, Charlie is trying NOT to eat the little hellborn as they try and fail to nibble on her lanky limbs, and Vaggie and Lucifer-

there is a new hole in the hotel where Vaggie tackled her future dad in law through the roof and now anyone looking the hotel has great view of them both snarling, circling each other in the air, spitting out mouthfulls of feathers from successfully blocking each other's bites while failing to to grab any FLESH with their own

Thankfully Rosie had finally gotten wind of Vaggie leaving with a 'slight head cold' last time and waltzes over just in time to toss some of her best stock into the hotel, a fine selection of sinner, hellborn, and even some leftover angel steaks from the battle, smartly distracting the hotel crew from hunting and tearing into each other instead

One very upsetting but ENERGETIC meal later, the blankly traumatized (and blood spattered) hotel crew huddle in groups back in the over turned lobby, listening as Rosie assures them the worst is over and they should be good as gore by tomorrow morning!

Alastor politely informs Roise that the mention of gore at just that moment might not have been the BEST choice of words

right on cue, Husk starts making hairball noises, and everyone else looks suddenly sick

Vaggie sighs, patting her gf on the back as Charlie tearfully hugs Razzle after having had her jaw unhinged in preparation of swallowing him whole when Rosie made her timely arrival (Razzle forgives her, he was planning to try devouring her from the inside out or die trying) (meanwhile Charlie had put both Fatty Nuggets and the Egg Boi on a frying pan and was preparing to have a nice cozy ghibli-style family meal- of friendship. literally. of friends)

-alright, Vaggie gives in, fine. Just one time I'll say it too.... Who do we blame for all this?

SUSAN everyone growls

this reminds Rosie to pass out the "shove your groaning up your asses" cards Susan made for all of them, which are, of course, scented

Vaggie sneezes at the scent and there's a stampede as everyone not wildly in love with her tries to run and save themselves

cannibal flu. it puts the "i" in cannibal as in that's what it makes YOU

cannibals are immune to this party bc they would barely even notice if they had it, for them, it's just suddenly turning into picky eater for a few days until the craving is satisfied :3 sometimes with your next door neighbor but really, isn't that what neighbors are for~?

(charlie falls into bed that night, exhausted, only to look around at a strange chewing noise)

(it's vaggie. on the window seat, hunched over with wings huddled around herself, looking up frozen in the act of gnawing on lute's torn off and left behind arm)

Vaggie: ".... Susan sent it over for me, special."

Charlie: "Uh huh."

Vaggie: "I'm not sick anymore! I just, was kinda curious..."

Charlie: "Vaggie, I support you biting the arm of the woman who tore out your eye. And you look great smeared with angelic blood." (pouting) "....but can you be cannibal curious in the morning and snuggle with me now?"

Vaggie: (tossing lute's arm into the bathroom) "Always, sweetie."

Charlie: "Mmm gooood. Now kisses!"

Vaggie: "Shit wait, I should wash my mouth-"

Charlie: "Or not?"

Vaggie: "..not?"

Charlie: "I'm kinda curious too~"

and thus was Susan's cannibal propaganda successfully spread, by the power of gay love, and how hot the demon princess of hell thinks it is when her angel girlfriend is spattered with someone else's blood

#hazbin hotel #vaggie #charlie morningstar #chaggie #husk hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #angel dust hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #niffty hazbin hotel #cherri bomb hazbin hotel #rosie hazbin hotel #susan hazbin hotel #incorrect quotes #utter silly nonsense #what if they were overcome with the urge to BITE BITE BITE #XD

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according2thelore · 8 months ago

Note

Does LS/ES Sam or Dean have conversations with their respective selfs about their partner like, "So, Sammy *still* does that thing in his sleep?" or "Please tell me LS!Dean grew out of that WildWest fixation".

GAHHHH ANON AHHHHH!!!!!!!!

LS!Dean sits at the library table, and ES!Sam & LS!Sam are sitting at the table in the corner, helping translate some more obscure lore. LS!Dean is tapping his pen on the table, and they can both tell it gets on their nerves as the incessant taptaptaptaptaptap of whatever metal song dean has stuck in his head echoes in the room.

"so discouraging to know he still does that," ES!Sam says, mouth twisted down in disgust, and LS!Sam hides his snort behind his palm. ES!Sam turns to LS!Sam, and sees the familiar judgemental, gleeful glint in his eye, and asks,

"does he still insist on keeping all his socks that are way past their expiry date?"

ES!Dean has a nasty habit of keeping his socks from the fruit of the loom six packs that are now grey or beige with age and have so many holes they could be used as leg warmers. they're perfectly good, sammy, dean insists, even as he wears blisters into his toes from his boots.

"turns out he doesn't just do it with his socks," LS!Sam says, somber, "it's his boxers, too."

ES!Sam recoils, but realizes unless dean put them in the laundry pile, he'd have no idea. LS!Sam gestures for him to get closer, and ES!Sam bends closer to hear him.

"i've had to start sneaking them out of his dresser. i found boxers last week that was just a square of fabric held to a triangle of fabric with one string. it was basically just a thong at that point."

ES!Sam bursts into laughter, shocking them both, and they talk for an hour about the dumb thing that their brother did, still does, and will in all likelihood continue to do.

yes, unfortunately, dean still has his wild west obsession. sam has found it is most productive if he can get dean to vent all his obsession for it into sam wearing a cowboy hat and/or assless chaps during sex once a month and let him spit-fuck him, and ES!Sam's jaw drops comically. no, actually, dean doesn't put that much sugar in his coffee anymore. he drinks it black. they both look a little uncomfortable about it before they confirm that indeed, dean still sneezes without covering his mouth--it's gross.

and yes--the tips of LS!Sam's ears flush when he says it--dean still flirts with people using that facial dumb expression of his but uh...he mostly uses it on sam, now. unfortunately, it usually works.

a week later, ES!Dean shuffles into the kitchen clearly exhausted, and when LS!Dean asks him what pissed in his cheerios, ES!Dean tells him ES!Sam was snuffling and muttering in his sleep again and the noise from the bed over kept waking him up.

"ugh!" LS!Dean says, "what's he stressed about?"

ES!Dean is kinda taken aback but yeah, it makes sense that he also picked up on the pattern, i mean, hell, it's him. ES!Dean shrugs.

"ionknow. but i'm two seconds away from taping his mouth shut. he keeps smacking his lips and it drives me nuts."

"two words," LS!Dean says, going to pour himself another cup of coffee, "oral fixation."

ES!Dean almost falls out of his stool. "fucking pardon??"

"yeah." LS!Dean shrugs. "he just wants stuff in his mouth. for a while he'd sleep with his face pressed against my shoulder, i think just to feel something on his mouth. he sleeps better when you start sharing a bed, though, so..."

ES!Dean looks like someone just hit him over the head, dazed.

"whenever he starts mutterin, i just roll over and throw an arm over him and he sleeps like a baby." LS!Dean takes a long, satisfying sip of his coffee, too pleased by the gobsmacked look on ES!Dean's face to care that it scorches his tongue.

"does..." ES!Dean clears his throat, shaking his head. he almost wants to say Stop Talking About Him Like That but stops himself in time. he forgets it's him he's talkin to. "does he still do that thing where he pushes his mouth up when he's concentrated."

LS!Dean softens. "oh yeah, he does. and he looks like a toddler every time." a pause. "i...uh, keep expecting look up and see him sitting there with bunky."

ES!Dean lights up. "oh shit!! bunky! i forgot about that raggedy thing."

bunky, of course, being a stuffed rabbit that pastor jim gave sam, and with which sam was obsessed for a few years. their talk is a bit more nostalgic, talking about things baby sam used to do that they notice adult sam doing now, including rub his eye with the back of his fingers when he gets tired.

"does sam ever get that stick outta his ass?" ES!Dean asks, and they're both grinning so big, high off being able to talk about sammy with someone who gets it, who knows him.

"nope." LS!Dean beams. "he stays our little pain in the ass forever."

they both kinda freeze, then turn to look at each other. our.

huh.

i had so much fun with this one omg your mind is so HUGE ANON AGHHHHHH!!!!!!!! thank you so much for sending it in mwah mwah mwah

-lizzy <3

(ES/LS verse masterlist)

#ask box #lizzy answers #ES/LS verse #anon <3

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sweetlysniffly · 1 year ago

Text

i just want you to imagine being in a movie theatre, watching a film. there aren't a ton of people in the theatre, but there is someone about a seat or two away from you. you came alone, and so did they. they sat down a bit after you did, and you can't exactly blame them as you did pick the row with the best view.

the film is starting, and it seems like you won't be entirely focused on the story. They're wearing a hoodie, and they keep reaching into their hoodie pocket for a tissue. At first it was just a couple sniffles, but as the movies goes on, it slowly devlops into quiet, breathy hitches that give away how much work they are putting in to holding in their sneeze.

their eyes are slightly watering and their nose is red, which you can clearly see depsite the darkness of the theatre.

they manage to keep their sneezes quiet, but they begin to get...messy. so messy, in fact, that they're about to run out of tissues. the cold air blasting in isn't exactly helping either. they're furiously rubbing their nose, trying to be quiet, but snuffles are carried very clearly to your flushing ears. your heart is beating so quickly you feel your own face heating up.

eventually, it all comes to a head. they hitch, and hitch, and hitch until one loud sneeze rings out. its almost stilfed, but not quiet, you can hear the itch releif in the exhale that comes out afterward. it seems they've run out of tissues, but a steady trail of snot has shot out of their right nostril. sympathetically, you tap their shoulder and hand then a napkin to clean up their face. they thank you quietly, cleaning their upper lip and huddling closer into themselves and their hoodie.

they sniffle, wiping their nose on their sleeve. you might need to do a bit of cleaning yourself up by the end of the movie.

#mess #snz fet #snz kink #snzfic #snzario

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nametakensff · 9 months ago

Note

spring prompt request: hitching and inopportune for k/im ideally in your fet!h/arry x k/im setting

Hellooo, I am sooo sorry this prompt has taken months in the making but I am finally finished!! Thank you for your patience 💕 Please enjoy 8.4k of K/im having a hard time

K/im is already feeling under the weather when an allergic reaction to dust at the worst of times makes his day even more exhausting. At least H/arry is there to help 😇

~~~~~

Content:

M/M, H/arry has a sneezing fetish, K/im is a kinky motherfucker, (oncoming) cold sneezes, dust allergy sneezes, sneezing whilst hiding, stifles, rapid sneezes, handkerchiefs, tissues, some mild mess, spray, hitching breaths, K/im generally has a very persistent tickle, sneezing on someone, catching someone else's sneezes for them, brief cold denial, blowing nose into hands (in the shower), handjobs, frotting, masturbation, elements of domination/submission, embarrassment, some voyeurism/exhibitionism, dirty talk, fetishy dirty talk, praise kink, graphic descriptions of semen, mentions of phone sex, caretaking, not orgasm denial exactly but neither have nutted in a while

CW: mentions of drug abuse, mentions of homicide, standard police stuff, general mentions of lightheadedness and not feeling well

NSFW - Minors DNI!

Kim awoke with a distinct feeling the day ahead was probably going to suck. He’d been feeling out of sorts this week, in the way that one does when one is probably coming down with a cold. He sighed, covering his eyes with the back of one hand as he lay on his back. After a moment he peered at his alarm clock, promptly remembered he couldn’t see jack shit, then reached for his glasses.

The clock read exactly 04:45 AM. He’d only gotten around five hours of sleep, still had over an hour before his alarm was meant to go off. He could try and go back to sleep, but he also knew from experience that he probably wouldn’t get very far. Once he was awake, that was it. He sighed again.

Just after 5 AM, Kim crawled out of bed and set to getting ready for the day. He figured he could use the extra time to get through outstanding paperwork (although there was admittedly very little ever outstanding for him) and decided to eat breakfast at the diner nearby the 41st precinct. The artificial, glaring lighting paired with a black coffee would hopefully make him feel a little less like the walking dead.

Sitting at the diner just after 6 AM, his first sneeze (of which Kim hoped was not many) had him scrambling for his handkerchief one-handed, the other clutching his newspaper. He decided, gently wiping at his nose in the aftermath, that to pay it any mind would be to invite more, so he simply returned to scrutinising the daily crossword, occasionally taking sips of coffee and meagre bites of a breakfast muffin. The façade of normalcy didn’t last especially long; he wasn’t hungry, the coffee hurt his throat, and the crossword seemed to be taking up entirely too much of his mental energy.

It was as if the admittance that things were amiss operated as a kind of signal to his treacherous nose. In the wake of that earlier sneeze, the tickle that had prompted it – instead of being purged by the sneeze – had merely lingered, hidden away in the depths of his sinuses. It reared its head once again, giving him a little more time than before to prepare, but still peaking rapidly enough that he had hardly gotten his handkerchief to his face before his chest swelled with a definitive inhalation.

“Hhtt-! Hh’gxt! N’Gkt!! Hh’NGxt’chu!!”

Instead of a sense of relief, the sneezes merely left him bleary-eyed and worse for wear. He snuffled discretely into the cloth, grateful that the other patrons hadn’t registered his outbursts (or more likely, that they just didn’t care). He allowed himself to rub indulgently at his nose, wriggling it from side to side in the hopes he could externally quell the internal irritation. It worked a little, but he was still sniffling against one crooked finger as he left the diner and climbed back into his MC, the leather of his glove coming away damp.

Luckily, nobody seemed to notice the desperate triple of sneezes he stifled between the pinching grip of his thumb and pointer finger, striking him right as he entered the station. They were nasty sneezes, total bullies that fought as hard as possible to burst past the barrier of his resistance. Kim winced more at the audibly liquid sound of them than the way they almost unbalanced him, walking at his brisk pace. He sniffled, trying not to cringe when the crackling resonance of it prompted a cop stood nearby to peer over at him in thinly-veiled disgust.

Once he was at his desk (and more importantly – sat down in his chair), he felt he could relax for a moment. The Major Crimes Unit was temporarily bereft of Major Crimes, so their officers were being lent out, as it were, to slightly more menial affairs. Jean had been complaining openly about this. The day before, as he stood in the kitchen whilst Kim and Harry picked at their lunches, he had grumbled that they were slowly becoming the Minor Crimes Unit, and the flat affect of his voice had made Kim laugh hard enough to almost choke on the crust of his sandwich.

Today, Kim was grateful they were evidently still the Minor Crimes Unit. It meant that half the officers were away on patrol, and that the rest were either plowing away through paperwork – or chatting amongst themselves in various nooks and crannies. It suited Kim just fine – this way he didn’t have to worry about stifling the persistent sneezes into total silence, and the lack of a fixed audience meant he could occasionally indulge in openly tilting his head back, nostrils flaring and face creasing, as any particularly irritable sneezes started to build.

So content had he become in the mechanical routine of write, pause, sneeze, resume writing that he was almost disappointed when Harry’s warm palm gripped him by the shoulder and shook him out of his trance. His partner grinned at him, gesturing with a thumb over his shoulder that they were getting the hell out of dodge. Kim offered a small smile back, tried to ignore the slight vertigo as he stood up and gathered his things.

Harry filled him in on the way to the garage – a new witness for a case that had gone cold years ago had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, promising vital information regarding the homicide of a 35-year-old mother of two. Harry’s enthusiasm could perhaps be described as in poor taste to some, but Kim understood. The thrill of all the pieces coming together, a case finally hurtling towards a successful closure was as potent a source of adrenaline for him as high-speed pursuits.

Kim pulled the MC out of the garage, more on autopilot than anything else, as Harry continued to natter. Kim found he was struggling to listen and drive at the same time – not good. Not usual, for him. He focused as much of his split attention as he could, thanking his lucky stars when Harry remained so wrapped up in his own hyper-focused ramblings that he didn’t notice as Kim’s head bobbed forward with three expertly stifled, silent sneezes.

~~~~~

The witness was a frazzled former meth user. Conversation with her seemed to bounce back and forth, and when Kim asked her what year it was, she was a decade off. Harry’s enthusiasm appeared to visibly wane as time went on – even his abilities as a human can-opener could only do so much in the face of synapses fried by years of abuse.

It seemed like a lost cause until Harry mentioned the name of a previous suspect – released from custody almost immediately due to lack of solid evidence of his involvement. Raking her hands through her hair, the witness seemed lucid and engaged all at once. Kim quickly flipped open his notebook and began to jot down the conversation in shorthand, even knowing Harry would memorise it entirely.

His nose tickled ever so slightly, and he sniffled, nostrils arching delicately. It was a mistake; he immediately needed to sneeze. The tickle was fast to come on but not especially strong – he did not find himself bending in half with the body-shaking force of it. Instead, his head gently bobbed forward which each sneeze, an unremarkable triple. It was a quick, efficient affair; he barely even shuddered with them. He might have been able to avoid detection entirely, had he not indulged in an audibly liquid sniffle immediately afterwards.

The witness glanced at him, a microscopic shift in body language, before her eyes were fixed back in the general vicinity of Harry’s shoulder. It was all that was needed for Harry to glance over at Kim - right at the moment that sniffle ignited the tickle into an unexpected fourth sneeze.

Kim’s eyes fluttered closed as he inhaled sharply. Harry was already watching him, concentration on the witness effectively broken. He needn’t have attempted to stifle this sneeze into total silence for his sake, but he felt he didn’t want to spook the witness out of her relative lucidity. His head bobbed forward again as he convulsed under the pressure of the release – stronger than the preceding three; strong enough that the sneeze was audible despite his best efforts. An awkward, entirely nasal stifle burst out of him, and with it a tiny stream of mess from his left nostril.

A gloved hand shot up to his face at once, pinching away the mess before dutifully returning pen to paper. Harry was rigid beside him; Kim bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from breaking out in a mischievous smile. The way he could render Harry dumbstruck with a single sneeze was one of his newfound delights in life. He felt like shit, and really didn’t want to be catching this cold, but now that Harry had noticed his struggles, he didn’t much feel like suppressing his sneezes any longer.

They thanked the witness, who had supplied them with a further lead in the form of a supposed hideout for the gang member she suspected committed the murder. It was probably a dead end this long after the crime, and both of them knew it, but it didn’t stop Harry from perking up in hope, just a little bit.

He perked up even more as Kim stopped walking, and Harry, several paces ahead, turned just in time to watch him sneeze an uncovered, unhindered triple of sneezes.

“Hh-Hh-h-!! Hupt’ISSHH’uu!! ‘TSScHh’iew!! Hh! Hah’AHDT’Tsziew!! Ahh, Mon dieu.”

“God, Kim. Bless you.”

Kim brought his handkerchief up to his face to snuffle into, smiling behind the fabric. It had felt fantastic to sneeze openly and as loudly as he wanted, and it felt just as fantastic to hear the poorly restrained arousal in his partner’s voice.

“Thank you. That felt good.”

Harry swore under his breath and continued to make his way to the MC, Kim following right behind him and doing his best not to beam in satisfaction. Back in the car, Harry turned to face Kim, eyes roving over his face in question. Kim simply sat there and gazed back at him, allowing the silent scrutinization.

“You okay, honey? Got a tickle?” Harry asked, doing an impressive job of sounding like he wasn’t sporting an extremely obvious erection.

“Hm.” Kim sniffled, starting the engine and glancing towards the road. “Yes. Just a tickle. A very persistent one.”

He pulled the car out onto the road, making his way towards the district of interest. Harry was squirming in his peripheral vision.

“That’s too bad. Hope you get some relief soon.” He offered after a moment of silence.

Kim nodded, stifling another smile. It seemed they were both refusing to take the topic any further. It was fine with him if Harry wanted to focus on work – he encouraged it wholeheartedly, and he didn’t particularly feel like surrendering to the other man how under the weather he felt just yet.

Fine. Let them both be stubborn, independent of each other. Kim drove a little less quickly than usual, on account of the occasional sneeze, and Harry did his very best to look entirely interested in everything that wasn’t his boyfriend sniffling several feet away from him.

~~~~~~

The hideout looked like any other drug den one might expect to encounter in Faubourg. Kim immediately felt uneasy walking up the short path to the front door, but it was a familiar unease he’d grown used to after decades on the job. Harry was alert and focused beside him. They turned to one another, reaching tentatively for their holstered guns – a habitual motion, just to confirm everything was in order in case things went south.

They needn’t have worried; nobody answered the door, which was unlocked, and a quick skim of the property confirmed it to be entirely empty. Harry nodded at him and Kim put his pistol back in its holster. They both wandered somewhat lazily around the shoddy bungalow in companionable silence, torches out due to the sheets pinned over every single window.

“Well. Fuck.” Kim heard Harry mutter, coming to the same conclusion as he that the only kind of organised crime this property had been related to in recent years was the procurement and consumption of drugs. The numerous needles littering the carpet were as good a sign of that as any.

“We got to her too late. This place is a wash. Shit.” Harry kicked an empty takeout box across the room, spreading fragments of ancient chow mein asunder. Kim sighed.

“It’s an old case, detective. We knew this was a likely outcome.”

Harry crossed his arms and let his head fall forward, sighing dramatically. Kim reached out and squeezed his bicep conciliatorily.

“There may be another lead yet. We’re not in any rush, we may as well investigate the property thoroughly.”

Harry looked up and smiled at him. Even in the dim light of the room, Kim could make out a grateful twinkle in his eyes. The almost childlike serenity of it had him smiling back in an decidedly uncool way, rife with affection and tenderness. The corner of his eyes were even crinkling, for fuck’s sake. But then again, this was Harry. He’d been a sucker for him from day 1.

Kim slapped him harder on the bicep than was necessary as he pulled away, then got to work.

~~~~~

He should have considered this. He didn’t understand why he never seemed to remember how irritatingly allergic to dust he was until he had already started to have a reaction. Breath catching and head tipping back for what was probably the tenth time since they’d entered this dust trap of a crack house, Kim briefly fanned at his face with a gloved hand before he was sneezing again, shuddering with the force of it.

“HhHH’DZZSTShhh!! Hih-!! Hup’TSCHhhht!! ‘TSCHhhuu!! Hh-Hhh!! HAHDt’Tssieww!!”

The frantic post-sneeze sniffle he indulged in just seemed to stoke the tickle right back into fruition – another thing he ought to have remembered not to do in the middle of an allergy attack, and yet. He gasped, chest jumping uncontrollably with every hitching breath, and sneezed even harder.

“HUPTt’TZzSHHhh!! AhHD’TZSCHhuu!! ‘DTZSCHhttt!!”

Even through post-sneeze bleary, blinking eyes, he could make out a cloud of aerosol spray lingering in the light of his torch for several seconds before dissipating into the air. If he was with anyone but Harry, he would be mortified.

“Fuck. God bless you. Again.” Harry offered from the other room. He was audibly aroused, and Kim would be lying if it wasn’t getting to him even whilst he felt absolutely miserable.

He didn’t have long to dwell on the matter before the tickle, utterly maddening in its feathery intensity, had him gasping and sneezing anew, nearly stumbling forward under the force of it.

“HH-!! Hhh’AGKk’TSschtt!! Hupt’TSCHHhh!! Hup’TSZSHhieww!! HAGK’TSSHhhuu!!”

Harry blessed him again, but Kim could hardly focus through the supreme irritation. He reached for his handkerchief and blew his nose hard, trying not to blush when his congested sinuses produced a rather undignified honking noise. Relax. Harry likes this. The thought provided him with a little relief, though extremely short-lived as his sinuses started to fill immediately, triggering yet another tickle. He tucked the torch under his armpit and reached to steady himself on a nearby wall, gasping hard into the protective cover of his handkerchief.

“Hih! Hh-HHdt-!! HDTT’TZzshhh-‘TSSH’uu!! HdDDZT’Tzshieww! HAH-! AEESCHH’uu!! Ohh…”

This was no good. One might even say he was fucked. He was getting hardly any reprieve between sneezes now, and each fit left him increasingly weaker and trembling in the aftermath. He felt Harry’s broad palm reaching between his shoulder blades, stroking his back as his breath scissored in and out of him. He hadn’t even heard him approaching the musty bedroom he’d been stationed in, so consumed had he been with purging the tickle. His eyes leaked twin streams of irritated tears down his flushed cheeks and saturated the fabric of his handkerchief. Harry’s hand felt like a grounding anchor amidst it all.

“Kim. Babe. We’ve officially seen enough, okay? I’m ending this investigation. We need to get you some fresh air.”

Kim nodded, unable to speak as another vicious triple tore its way out of him. Harry cooed at him, wrapping an arm around his waist and standing him upright. Kim allowed him to press a soft kiss to the side of his face, unprofessionalism be damned given the circumstances. He felt horrible; his body arched towards Harry, seeking the comfort like a lifeline.

They’d hardly taken a couple of steps forward when the sound of approaching footsteps and gruff male voices from outside had them freezing mid-movement. Maybe the joint wasn’t abandoned after all. The almost marching and level sounds of the steps – the domineering, unwavering cadence of the men…it didn’t sound like a pair of drug addicts. They sounded like they meant business. Fuck.

Upon the sound of the men reaching the doorstep, Harry yanked Kim back into the bedroom and behind the door, slightly ajar. The front door opened, and they held their breath as the men strode inside. Their current hiding place was a terrible vantage point – neither Harry nor Kim could watch them, only listen as they rummaged around, opening draws and shifting furniture. They weren’t saying much of anything – there was no urgency in their banter, nothing frantic about the sounds of their movements. Kim clutched his handkerchief to his nose, pinching hard, and with his free hand clutched at the gun in his holster. Beside him, Harry’s hand rested on his own weapon.

Kim’s mind raced through the possibilities. Somebody must have been watching their approach and informed these men. Their MC was parked a couple of streets away to avoid becoming a spectacle, but perhaps it had been discovered, or they’d been seen entering the property and recognised by the RCM insignias on their jackets. Were the strangers actively looking for them? No. They would have moved with frenzied purpose, were that the case.

Maybe they were drug addicts after all. Maybe they were opportunistic scavengers. Maybe he and Harry ought to emerge from the bedroom, guns before them, and make their presence known? They’d hidden instinctually, perhaps preemptively. He frowned, rigid beside an equally rigid Harry as he thought and thought.

The most pressing matter, beyond all of these possibilities and their outcomes, was remaining concealed. Kim was excellent at this; he’d been described as catlike, both to his face and behind his back, and took pride in being light-footed and discrete. Keeping quiet was not a problem.

Correction. Keeping quiet was not a problem except for when he was in the midst of a terrible fucking allergy attack.

Like clockwork, the tickle peaked once more, and Kim shuddered in place with a harsh, punishing triple, stifled between pinching fingers into his handkerchief. Miraculously, they remained silent; the shivering exhale he couldn’t help but let out made more noise. He sensed Harry glancing at him, but he couldn’t so much as turn before his breath was snagging and another three sneezes forced their way out of him, wracking his slender frame.

This was no good. In fact, this was terrible. He barely had a moment’s breath where he wasn’t inhaling and sneezing, the allergy attack now in full swing. Try as he might to keep the sneezes absolutely silent, they were getting increasingly more difficult to suppress.

“Hh’GKTt!! NGX’tt!! ND’Tt!! ‘Ngxt!! H’NGxtsh!!”

He felt Harry squeezing his shoulder – a gesture either meaning ‘Are you okay’ or ‘Shut the fuck up’ – likely a mixture of both. Kim merely shook his head before sneezing again. Gun forgotten (probably for the better – he would never live down a gunshot triggered by an unruly sneeze), Kim struggled to hold his handkerchief to his face, now drenched and clinging to the fabric of his glove. He leant his back against the wall behind him, free hand bracing himself as his knees weakened with the effort.

“’Hddtsh!! NGX’tshh!! H’GXT’shh!! NGt-GXT’tsh!!...Hg’GXTZshht’u!!”

Fuck. That last one had not only made his temples throb in pain as it forced its way past his trembling fingers, it had been messy. Worst of all, it had been louder, an explosive burst of sound. Harry’s grip on his shoulder flexed, just once. Through the roaring of blood in his ears, Kim couldn’t hear any significant change in conversation in the other room. Good. He managed to stifle the next few into silence once more, but it didn’t feel like much of an accomplishment. It was only a matter of time before he would simply have to let loose entirely.

Suddenly, the voices drew closer – so close, in fact, that Kim was certain the strangers would stride into the room and find them there. What a sight that would be – a Disco cop and his partner, currently almost doubled over sneezing his proverbial brains out. It would be a funny thought if it wasn’t such a viable outcome, and also perhaps if Kim didn’t feel as though he was about to pass out. This tickle was a bully; it didn’t matter how much he sneezed, it simply demanded more.

Miraculously, Kim at last heard the footsteps of the men receding, followed by the front door closing. He hadn’t been able to follow the conversation, but it seemed that whatever they’d been looking for, they’d found.

“’MP’tschh!! Hh! Hg’GXTtt!! NGXtt!! H-Hh-!! Hh’GKShhht!!”

God, just let this end. His eyes were streaming down his face in a constant onslaught of allergic tears, and his nose felt as though the ticklish fibres of the fluffiest feather possible were touching every part of his nostrils all at once. The itching sensation seemed to fill his entire head, even. It felt as though he would never stop sneezing.

He had been vaguely aware of Harry leaving the room, but it wasn’t as though he could inquire after, or indeed follow him in his current state. When he returned several minutes later – in which Kim was still sneezing, though admittedly much less quietly – he knelt in front of him. Kim peered through bloodshot, miserable eyes at his face. Before Harry, he hadn’t realised it was possible for human beings to wear expressions so perfectly torn between arousal and intense concern, but there it was, staring right back at him.

“Okay, they’re gone. I watched them leave, they’re not coming back. Probably just grabbed some product and fucked off.”

Kim nodded, sneezed, sneezed again.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Harry reached out, pulling Kim just enough that he gave in, let himself slide down the wall into a sitting position. He had not the least bit of energy to resist as Harry pulled his handkerchief clad hand away from his face, didn’t protest as Harry quickly swiped away with his thumb at the prominent mess under his nose and over his lips. He felt a fresh handkerchief – Harry’s – being held over his face, securely, by his partner’s broad, warm hand.

“It’s okay.” Harry murmured again, hand expertly following Kim as his head tipped back with a gasping inhale. “Let it all out.”

Kim didn’t have much of a choice either way. Gripping Harry’s wrist for purchase, he trembled under the force of the sneeze, fully unhindered as he practically roared into the handkerchief.

“hhHUPTT’TISSHHHIEEWwww!!!”

The bliss, the relief from finally sneezing without restraint, was monumental. Kim’s entire body shivered pleasantly, goosebumps breaking out on the surface of his arms. He moaned, losing himself for just a moment – and then geared up to do it all over again.

~~~~~~

They drove to Harry’s apartment, it being the closest. Harry had taken the wheel, to their mutual displeasure, but it would have to do, given that Kim was still sneezing. He was winding down, gradually, the pauses between hitching and sneezing and sighing growing much longer – but sneezing nonetheless. In a way, Kim considered it a boon that he had been sneezing since that morning already. As the allergic reaction began to fade, the odd couple of sneezes every now and then felt almost like returning to a familiar baseline. God, he was tired. He felt weak and unwell, truly exhausted from the sheer number of sneezes his body had been subjected to, and the magnitude of those he had finally let loose. That Harry hadn’t cum in his pants as Kim had sneezed against his palm was truly impressive.

Towards the end of the journey, Kim wondered if it wouldn’t have been just as well that he had driven. Harry was so riled up and distracted it was a blessing he hadn’t gored any pedestrians with his drifting and last-minute breaking. He would jump when Kim sneezed, rigid and alert between each release as he expectantly waited for another. It was funny, and it was flattering, but Kim had reached out more than once to steady the wheel as his partner’s trembling palms lost their slippery grip. Harry’s cock stood to attention the entire way home; it persisted even as they climbed the stairs to his apartment, Harry insisting Kim walk in front of him to shield the tenting of his pants from prying eyes. He moaned as Kim’s sneezes echoed in the stairwell.

“You shower first, baby.” He’d offered, pupils blown and shifting from foot to foot. “You need to get that dust off of you.”

Kim didn’t disagree – didn’t even have it in him to ask Harry to join him. He tossed his clothes into Harry’s laundry basket, grimacing as the dust the motions stirred up promised to bloom into another tickle. It did, several minutes later; he didn’t hold back as the sneezes ramped up again, aided by the steam opening his sinuses.

“AESCHhhh!! HdtT’TSCHHHhtt!! ‘DZSCHhh’uu!! Fuck…Hh! hHUPT’TSshhh!! ‘TZSChh’uu!! AhDT’TSsHhiewww!! Ah…”

They were harsh, full body releases. Each sneeze brought with it a stream of mess, hanging over his lower face before the next sneeze would displace it, soaring onto the floor of the shower. Within moments, his runny nose would be dripping, prompting another sneeze in what he was sure would have been an endless cycle had he not indulgently blown his nose into his hands, stemming the flow and dulling the itch.

He swallowed hard, clearing his throat against the tickle. At least the fluttering, allergic sensation that had made his entire face feel itchy and alive with irritation had now dissipated. Though brought on by dust, these sneezes, like this morning, felt distinctively…unwell. He sighed and leaned his forehead against the cool tile wall, allowing the shower water to sluice down his back for a time.

~~~~~

When Kim emerged from his shower, one towel round his waist whilst he tousled at his damp hair with another, Harry all but bolted past him and into the bathroom, hesitating for a split second to utter a small “love you” and press a kiss to Kim’s bare shoulder. Kim barely had a chance to blink before the door was closed just shy of slamming behind him.

He chuckled to himself before locating a change of his clothes in Harry’s dresser – folded neatly and just as he had left them, in sharp contrast to Harry’s own crumpled and pell-mell shirts and slacks. He took them and placed them on top of the dresser, noticing that Harry had placed there a fresh box of tissues, a glass of water and a small blister pack of antihistamines, some of the pills already missing. Harry must have taken some – or more likely, Kim suddenly realised, Jean. It would be just like Harry to keep some around in the rare instances Jean went without. Kim smirked, taking a pill himself and chasing it with the entire glass of water.

Kim began to towel himself dry, but the day’s exhaustion, more than doubled by that ridiculous allergic reaction, proved too much. He lowered himself, towel wrapped round his waist, into the armchair Harry had started using as a desk chair. (They’d had sex on this chair a good few times – Kim had absentmindedly wondered where it had vanished from the living room as they entered the flat.) His upper body was dry enough that leaning back into the fabric didn’t feel entirely awful. He sighed, resting his eyes and allowing himself this small break. He would get dressed when Harry was finished; they would be leaving together anyway. There was no rush – he felt he could claim this small pocket of time as entirely his own.

He'd been drifting between the periphery of consciousness and oblivion when an audible groaning sound caught his attention and pulled him out of his doze. He was a light sleeper, both a blessing in this line of work and a curse for literally every other reason. He listened, eyes still closed, focusing on any other noises over the gentle hissing of shower water. The distinctive moan he had heard didn’t come again – only the sounds of plastic toiletry bottles being rifled through.

He didn’t want to be nosy; he tried his best to allow others the privacy he so desperately clung to, reserving any meddling for his detective work. One could argue that the unmistakable sound of his boyfriend orgasming in the shower whilst he was sat in the next room was none of his business – if Harry wanted to masturbate in private, who was Kim to judge? One could also say, however, that when his boyfriend is orgasming in, no doubt, direct response to his allergies, he is entitled to speculate and enjoy whatever snatches of sound it may induce. Tired though he was, his cock stirred and started to harden in response. He palmed it lazily under the towel, humming as sordid images danced through his mind - of Harry moaning, fucking his own fist, legs trembling as the shower water washed away the evidence of his orgasm as quickly as it had materialised.

He stopped teasing himself when he heard the water shut off. A couple of minutes later, Harry emerged in his own towel, doing a quick double-take at Kim lounging in the chair and watching him.

“Not gonna get dressed?” He asked, sounding incriminatingly relaxed and amused as he began to go through the motions of drying himself. Kim peered at the nape of his neck, the way the damp tendrils of his unruly mane curled there.

“Oh, I will. I’m tired, though. I didn’t feel like rushing.”

Harry hummed in response, the sound morphing into a continuous melody, toweling wildly at his hair. Kim watched him, secretly wishing he could afford the same luxury of such rough treatment. He would rather die than admit out loud the fact that he patted his own hair dry with gentle tentativeness, hoping to avoid thinning out his receding hairline any more than nature had already cursed it to.

Kim smiled fondly at his back.

“You’re in good spirits.” He stated, resting his hand on his prick.

“It was a good shower.” Harry merely said by way of response, dropping the towel and walking naked towards his closet for a change of clothes.

“It sounded like it.” Kim said. Harry didn’t turn around, didn’t see him squeezing himself through the towel, though he did tense a little before exhaling a little laugh.

“Sorry, sorry. Had to…scratch an itch.”

“You’re insatiable,” Kim laughed, even as he reached under the towel and took himself back in hand. Harry rifled through his clothes, humming again.

“That’s twice in my career, now,” Kim started, “That I’ve had to hide in a dust trap and stifle my sneezes into near silence to avoid detection.”

Harry paused his rifling, face still hidden by the open wardrobe door. Kim smiled, lazily teasing his own urethra with a circling fingertip. He went on.

“The tickle is always so maddening, but when I can finally let myself sneeze unrestrained it’s such a rush. Though I’m sure I’m preaching to the choir. Still – that was an enjoyable fit.”

Kim had to fight back a giggle at the sight of Harry as he turned round with a tortured expression, cock already half-hard and standing out like an exclamation between his legs. His eyes widened at the sight of Kim stroking himself.

“See?” Kim drawled, leaning his head on one propped up hand against the arm of the chair and pulling at his cock with languid strokes. He nodded towards Harry’s erection. “Insatiable.”

Harry blinked, looking for all the world like he was short-circuiting, before uttering a comically resolute “Fuck.” Kim watched as he walked the short distance to his bedside table, reaching inside to extract a small bottle, and lay back on the bed. He started to laugh in genuine amusement as Harry, stony-faced, squeezed a generous amount of lube onto his hand and started masturbating at a frantic pace.

There was nothing else for it, really. He walked over to the bed and swung one of his legs over Harry’s hips, leaning forward on his forearms, framing Harry between them. The Lieutenant looked up at him with twinkling eyes, crinkling in the corners with affection. Kim smiled back at him, certain his eyes were a mirror image of adoration.

“Hi, Kim.” Harry mumbled between hitching breaths.

“Hello, Harry.”

Kim leaned down to kiss him, almost startling at the voracity with which Harry kissed him in return. He pulled back a moment later, sucking on Harry’s tongue as he went.

“Well?” He peered at Harry, who looked kiss-drunk and confused. “Aren’t you going to make me cum? You’re one orgasm ahead.”

Harry reached for him immediately, squeezing his slippery fingers in a warm vice around both of their cocks. Kim’s breath hitched at the contact, their solid lengths throbbing against each other, the sound of it morphing into a happy, shuddering sigh as he lowered himself down and onto his forearms. Hips pressed together, they were soon thrusting at a coordinated pace, chasing their mutual pleasure with a heated urgency. Kim’s whole body seemed to vibrate with elation.

“I’ve missed you.” Harry suddenly said in such a melodramatic voice that Kim’s eyes, having slipped shut as he lost himself in the hedonistic rhythm of fucking, snapped open at once. He smiled in exasperation, nosing at Harry’s sideburn.

“But I’m right here,” he muttered into Harry’s mutton-chopped cheek, enjoying the gentle scratch of facial hair against his lips. “We see each other every day.”

“Work doesn’t count!” Harry protested, cutting himself off with a loud groan as Kim’s hand, having joined his own, teased at his frenulum after a particularly languorous upstroke.

Kim thought work counted a little. They were fucking right now on work time. Harry wouldn’t want to hear this, though, and Kim didn’t particularly feel like having the conversation. Every stroke on his cock felt wonderful, incredibly sensitised.

“When did we last have sex?” He breathed out, half-thinking-out-loud and half-asking.

“Nearly two weeks ago.” Harry replied bitterly.

Shit. That meant Kim also hadn’t had an orgasm in just as long. That explained why he was feeling absolutely out of his mind with pleasure in this moment, despite Harry’s grievances. He could cum at any moment. He decided to try not to do so and cleared his throat.

“We can have sex all of this weekend. I want to have sex with you, I’ve just been – “

Kim groaned as Harry squeezed them both, his dick throbbing and throbbing in the tight tunnel of that huge fist. He hoped he needn’t finish his sentence – he was far too turned on to partake in any further mollification.

“It’s okay, I get it. We’re work junkies.” Harry grunted. Good, Kim thought. Crisis averted, orgasm very much on track.

Harry turned to press his mouth to Kim’s ear.

“If you really mean it, about this weekend – I’m gonna fuck you so hard, Lieutenant. I’m gonna make you scream. You’ll be limping into the office on Monday, and everyone will know why. So prim and proper, except for when you’re not.” He finished his statement by starting to suck on Kim’s earlobe, which he knew drove him crazy. Kim’s cock drooled down his knuckles in response, and his whole body shivered.

“Fuck,” Kim moaned. He hadn’t even realised how badly he’d needed this. Everything else had paled in the face of work, even when work was slow - a bad habit of his, he knew.

He wanted to reply with some acerbic, flirtatious comment about making sure Harry would be the limping party rather than him, but a sudden wave of exhaustion and lightheadedness overwhelmed him, rendering him incapable. He sighed and leaned forward, pausing the motions of his hand as it gripped their cocks and resting his forehead on Harry’s chin for a moment, waiting for it to pass.

“Hey, hey,” Harry said, frantically but gently, using his free hand to smooth down Kim’s back reassuringly. “You okay?”

Kim considered lying. He considered doing what he had done for years with various former boyfriends – keeping them at arm’s length the second any legitimate concern was levied his way. It used to be easy enough. But now his boyfriend was Harry Du Bois, human can-opener. Lying, or at the very least downplaying, was no longer an option. More importantly, he found he actually didn’t want to lie. And so he didn’t.

“I’ve been feeling a little…off.” He admitted, resting for a moment longer. Harry continued to rub his back and gently cradle their dicks. They were so hard that Kim could feel both of their heartbeats as they nestled together.

“Mm. I thought so. Tell me how?” Harry murmured, careful not to jolt Kim as he spoke.

“Hm. Like I might be coming down with something. A cold, maybe.”

Harry’s cock gave a significant twitch at that, and Kim couldn’t help grinning despite himself.

“Ohh, honey, that’s terrible.” Harry cooed, sounding perfectly concerned and saccharine even as his hand wandered down Kim’s spine before settling on Kim’s left ass cheek and squeezing it, hard.

“You’re awful.” Kim teased, allowing himself to lean back and resume his straddle above Harry now that the headrush had started to recede.

“I mean it!” Harry offered a crooked grin that seemed to imply anything but. Kim raised an eyebrow at him, then batted Harry’s sticky hand out of the way and resumed stroking his boyfriend’s cock with renewed vigour, transforming that devilish smile into a contorted mask of pleasure.

“Sure. I totally believe you.” Kim deadpanned, trying not to show just how turned on Harry’s open lustiness was making him.

Harry was a walking collection of vices, Kim had very soon realised. If it wasn’t drink and drugs, it was something else. He lived voraciously – he worked himself to exhaustion, thought himself to despair, ate himself to temporary immobility and fucked himself to stupidity. Kim didn’t mind the last one, especially, but the point still stood. Himself being a veritable pinnacle of self-restraint and deferred gratification, one might argue Harry was his polar opposite – and yet when they were together like this, everything felt electric. Kim had never put much weight into the saying ‘opposites attract’ – not until he’d met Harry. It just – worked.

Harry seemed to suddenly remember he was a human being on this mortal plane and that Kim’s dick was currently unattended to. His hand reached between them and resumed stroking and squeezing with such passion that Kim nearly swooned with it. God, he was going to cum embarrassingly quickly.

Kim soon felt regretful over the way his tempo was beginning to falter in exhaustion, his wrist beginning to ache. It made him feel notably old and unsexy. Harry didn’t seem to notice, bucking into his grip enthusiastically, loving it all the same. That was reassuring, at the very least. Harry deserved pleasure. He wanted to give him all he could.

Something Harry liked – listening to him speak. It hadn’t taken them long into their relationship for him to confess to Kim just how much he loved the velvety smoothness of his voice, in sharp contrast to the rumbling timbre of his own, one evening over the phone. (Kim had been quick to assure him he was mutually as appreciative, both verbally and by coming into his own hand as Harry uttered pure filth down the receiver to him). He could work with that, always. Now was as good a time as ever to put his voice to use and talk Harry up to orgasm before he fell into his own.

“You know,” He started, prompting Harry to open his eyes, temporarily closed in a rictus of pleasure. “It’s relieving to get it off my chest. I’ve been sneezing practically all day – it’ll be nice to let myself sneeze freely for the remainder of this cold.”

“Fuck, Kim – you can always do that. Please always do that.”

Kim smiled, kissed Harry’s bristly cheek.

“What if I don’t think you deserve it?” He teased, rubbing his thumb in a lingering swipe over the head of Harry’s cock. It drooled precum in response.

“I’ll – fuck, I’ll be good!” Harry was almost panting.

“Yeah? You’ll be a good boy for me?” Kim murmured, stomach tingling and tightening in arousal. “You know what good boys get? Hm?”

Harry groaned in response, hips starting to buck arrhythmically. So, so close. Kim leaned to croon directly into Harry’s ear.

“They get my sneezes all over them - on their face and their cock. I use them instead of a tissue, until they cum for me. Are you my good boy, Harry?”

Much as Kim predicted he would, Harry had no chance to respond before he was shuddering and moaning, tossing his head back as the efforts of Kim’s voice and his stroking hand tipped him over the edge. Kim watched his face, one of beatific torture as the pleasure washed over him, and grunted as his own orgasm lurched ever closer. He squeezed Harry throughout, milking his cock for all it was worth and enjoying the trickle of semen over his knuckles that hadn’t spurted over their stomachs. For a man who had had an orgasm no more than fifteen minutes earlier, he still came a great deal. Kim wondered if Harry had been actively denying himself release these past two weeks – waiting for his touch until losing it today. The thought of that made him moan, cock twitching and neglected, Harry’s hand having fallen to his side mid-orgasm.

Harry finally relaxed, sinking into the mattress with a long, satisfied sigh. He wrapped his arms around Kim in a bear hug, pulling him flat down onto his chest and sandwiching their sticky torsos together. Kim chuckled in exasperation, thinking about his recent shower. Ignoring the way his solid cock dug into Harry’s lower stomach, he allowed himself to be held. This kind of full-body, skin on skin contact always felt so good. He nuzzled his nose into Harry’s neck, enjoying the sensation of those ridiculous mutton chops brushing the side of his face.

“That…was so fucking good. Shit. Fuck. I love you. Oh God…”

Kim kissed his neck by way of response, allowing the post-orgasmic platitudes to wash over him. Harry was right – two weeks without moments like this had been too fucking long.

He was pulled out of his contemplation just seconds later when his burgeoning cold decided to strike again with a vengeance. That oh-so-familiar tickle peaked almost instantly, giving him no time to warn Harry or pull away. With a surprised gasp, Kim cringed into a small fit of outrageously tickly sneezes, leaving beads of irritated tears at the corners of his eyes in their wake.

“Hh-HDZ’tzshhh!! ‘Tishhuu!! Hupt’TSshht!! ‘GXTt’shuu!!”

He snuffled and rubbed his itchy nose against the skin he had dampened, drinking in Harry’s moan and the way his body tensed against him. His nose was starting to run in earnest, so he wriggled a hand free of Harry’s embrace and reached up to pinch at his nostrils. Harry reached wordlessly for the tissue box beside the bed and handed Kim a bundle of fresh tissues. Kim took them gratefully, feeling the exhaustion of the day suddenly intensify. He lay his head on Harry’s collar bone and worked his own nostrils in lazy circles through the tissue.

“Mm. ‘Scuse me. My timing was a little imperfect.”

“Bless you, honey. You really are catching a cold, aren’t you? Poor thing.”

Kim allowed Harry to slide him off of his chest and onto his back on the bed. He watched through lidded eyes as Harry swiped at the mess on his stomach for a moment before he leaned over Kim in a reversal of their previous positions. He had almost forgotten he was still very much hard when Harry’s damp, warm hand returned to his cock. He gasped and jolted a little as those fingers wrapped around him and gave a decisive tug.

“Ohh, fuck…” He groaned a little, reaching up to wrap his arms around Harry’s shoulders as the bigger man picked up the pace, jerking him hard and fast.

“Your turn, baby. Gonna come for me?” Harry drawled, back vibrating with the timbre of it under Kim’s hands. Kim shuddered and sighed.

“Fuck, yes – don’t stop-!”

Harry didn’t – he stroked and squeezed him expertly, just the way Kim liked. The build up to his orgasm was almost too much to bear; he clung to Harry, tense and leaking, hardly remembering the last time he’d felt so desperate as his world focused in on the sensations of his twitching cock, eclipsing everything else.

Remarkably, even as the pleasure started to crest to the point of no return, Kim’s nostrils twitched devilishly, flaring wide with the sudden and undeniable need to sneeze. His head felt fuzzy, like it was stuffed full of cotton; everything was so intense, and the warring teasing in his nose and cock were maddening in the most incredible way. The building tickle felt orgasmic in its own right.

“Ohh, baby – need to sneeze again?” He heard Harry say. He couldn’t respond, hitching and gasping in equal parts pleasure and irritation. Harry moaned, and the sound of it made Kim throb and pulse in his grip. He truly didn’t know how much longer he could exist like this, right on the precipice of both sneezing and orgasm. An irrational part of his mind wondered how it could ever end, how he could possibly handle both releases in such close proximity.

His body made the decision before he was consciously aware of it. Hitching breaths culminating into one final, wrenching gasp, Kim was thrown forward helplessly, pressing up into Harry and gripping him tightly. He peppered the air with sneezes, no doubt all of them raining down onto the skin of Harry’s back as he shuddered with them in quick succession.

“-!! AESHHHTttt!! ‘DZTSHhh-TSSHh’ieww!! HahDTT’TSHhh-Hupt’TISHHhh’uu!!”

Kim barely had a second to recover, gasping as his orgasm hit him, seemingly without pause from the tail end of that last violent sneeze. Temporarily mute from the euphoria, he trembled against Harry, fingers digging into his back as he held on for what felt like dear life. His cock throbbed rhythmically, deeply, sending waves of pleasure through his body as it shot arcs of cum over his stomach, the most powerful climax he’d experienced in what felt like forever. When it released him, he went boneless against Harry, moaning low and long, feeling like his body was now jelly in the shape of a human. Fuck.

“Fuck.” Harry said, mirroring Kim’s thoughts, and he wanted to laugh but the exhaustion was back again, and he was so, so tired…

~~~~~

Kim woke gradually, slowly brought to the surface of consciousness by the feeling of Harry stroking his hair with a feather-light touch. He stirred a little, opening his eyes and realising, as the form of Harry remained a blur hovering over him, that he was no longer wearing his glasses.

“Hey, Kim.”

“Mmrmmf.” Was all Kim was able to manage initially, moving to sit up. Harry, however, pressed him back down against the pillowcase with a soft but firm hand. Kim was too exhausted to resist, going willingly. His brows furrowed in confusion before he remembered all at once that firstly, he was coming down with – or rather, had already caught – a gradually worsening cold; secondly, he had had an insane allergy attack earlier; and thirdly, he had seemingly fallen asleep immediately after coming his brains out. He chose to believe that the falling asleep part was due to both feeling unwell and the fact that he hadn’t orgasmed in a fortnight, not some newly encroaching middle-aged development.

“What time is it?” He asked after a couple more minutes of lying there, letting Harry pet him lovingly. He realised he wasn’t sticky and was securely bundled up in Harry’s duvet – he’d evidently been cleaned up and positioned thus whilst deep in sleep.

The blurry form of Harry raised an arm to presumably look at his watch.

“About three-thirty. You’ve only been asleep for ten minutes or so.”

“Sorry.” Kim muttered, watching blurry Harry shake his head. “Can I have my glasses? I want to see you.”

Harry gently placed the glasses on his face, and Kim smiled as he looked up at his expression of naked adoration.

“You feeling okay?” Harry asked, cupping Kim’s cheek in his palm.

“I’m tired. Really tired.” Kim sighed. “You tucked me in?”

“Sure did. You need to sleep.”

“I need to work, Lieutenant.”

“Nuh-uh.” Harry muttered plainly. “You were dead to the world, just now. You’re sick and you’re overworked, and you had an amazing – uh, horrible allergic reaction, so you’re going to spend the rest of the day and evening luxuriating in my humble abode. I changed the sheets last night, by the way. Lucky you, since we fucked on top of the duvet and all. No sleeping in the wet patch.” He finished with a wink and twin finger guns pointed at Kim, who suddenly no longer had any desire to oppose him whatsoever.

“Is that an order, Lieutenant Double-Yefreitor?” He mumbled, feeling himself quite embarrassingly starting to fall asleep all over again.

“Oh, it certainly is, Lieutenant. And you’d do well to follow it.” Harry smirked down at him.

Kim laughed softly, feeling his eyes already starting to slip shut. He felt Harry removing his glasses, heard him placing them gently on the nightstand. Harry was saying something else to the tune of ‘I’ll be back later’, but all Kim could focus on before he fell back into a deep sleep was the gentle warmth of Harry’s fingers ghosting over his temple.

#genuinely been trying to get this baby out there for so long lol #nametakenfic #d/isco e/lysium #sneeze fic #sneeze kink #snz fet #snz kink #snz fucker #snzblr #sneeze fucker

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dragonnan · 1 year ago

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May Prompts 2024

May 1st

Sharing is Caring

The violent sneezing could be heard even as John was still halfway down the stairs. Not even a surprise, really. It was the second week of Autumn and three things that could always be predicted during this season were rainy days, changing leaves, and Sherlock's allergies.

Even Greg knew better than to call unless things were truly dire.

As he made his way to the kitchen, John started the water boiling before arming himself from his kit. Tissues and antihistamine tablets were set on a tray. He also made toast and spread it with honey before finishing the tea – an herbal blend with orange that lacked caffeine.

With everything ready he gave a soft knock on Sherlock's door. “Alright if I come in?”

There was another sneeze, followed by a somewhat blurred reply which John took as consent.

One inside, juggling the tray to one hip, John turned on the bedside lamp to take stock of his friend. Sherlock was... well... he looked miserable. Features more pale than normal save the flush on his cheeks and reddened nose. Eyes red and watery, lips cracked, and a snuffle through clogged sinuses.

John set the tray down on the floor before pulling the duvet back. “Here, budge up a bit. I've brought you some breakfast.”

Sherlock made a face. “No thank you.”

Ignoring the protest, John collected the tray and bridged it over Sherlock's lap. “It's just tea and toast. It will help. Here's some tablets for your sinuses.”

While Sherlock picked at his toast and sipped his tea, John went about collecting the drift of tissues from the floor (though, upon examination, were actually wadded loo roll as Sherlock couldn't have been arsed to locate proper tissue).

Sherlock managed to finish one slice of toast and about two bites of the other before pushing away his plate. He did drink all of the tea as he downed his tablets so that was something. John removed the tray; carrying it out to the kitchen, before returning with an ice pack.

“For your head.”

Sherlock took it and groaned as he laid it across his eyes.

“Anything else I can get for you?”

Sherlock pulled a face. “Some silence perhaps.”

Rolling his eyes, John quietly left the room. An hour later Rosie was at her creche and John at the clinic. Mrs. Hudson had assured him she'd look in on Sherlock throughout the day and had even insisted on a trip to the shops for juice and soup. So, of course, when he arrived back at the flat, that evening, it was to find his sleeping flat mate curled up on the couch in a cocoon of blankets while Mrs. Hudson puttered over a cook pot that smelled absolutely fabulous.

Bypassing the mound of misery, John went straight into the kitchen. She, of course, noted the absence of a certain someone. “No Rosie? Ah, you've left her with someone.”

John hummed while leaning over the kettle. “Harry. Didn't think it was a good idea to have her around with Sherlock being sick; just in case this turns out to be something more.”

That 'something more', of course, proved to be an apt prediction.

The evening had all started out well enough. While Mrs. Hudson had been finishing up dinner preparations, John had returned to the sitting room to rouse Sherlock. Ratty about being cajoled into consciousness he'd shaken off John's steadying hand and trailed off to the loo. Fetching down some of their mismatched bowls while Mrs. H secured the cutlery, John was about to go rap on the bathroom door when there was a toilet flush – soon followed by the door opening.

Sherlock emerged in a miasma of gloom. His cheeks were splotchy and he held a wadded bit of loo roll to his steadily running nose. There was no grace remaining in his steps; instead he trailed wretchedly back to the couch where he, more or less, collapsed onto the cushions.

Mrs. Hudson made a small sound of pity while John followed in his friend's wake – placing the back of his fingers against Sherlock's cheek in spite of the disgruntled moue he got for his trouble.

“You feel a bit warm. Which means this likely isn't allergies.”

“Took a medical license to figure that out?” Sherlock griped.

Ignoring him, John retrieved his kit before returning to the couch to get a proper temperature. Making use of an ear thermometer, not worth that battle to get Sherlock to take it orally, John held it in place until it gave a short beep.

38.3.

Well, not the worst – though it did mean some changes to their plans.

“How's the stomach? Think you could handle a little soup?”

If the sudden flush of pale around Sherlock's throat was any indication, the answer was likely to be a negative – confirmed when Sherlock swallowed hard.

John tapped the thermometer against his palm. “Some juice instead then. And there's a package of biscuits in the cupboard.”

Sherlock winced as he shook his head – his voice rasping. “Just the juice.”

Which, truthfully, was better than John could have hoped to manage, though he still wished he could get Sherlock to eat. Granted that was a hard sell even when Sherlock wasn't ill.

Half an hour later, John and Mrs. Hudson had finished their meal and Sherlock was asleep on the couch. Rather than attempt to cajole him back to his bedroom, John had just dimmed the lights, and made a fire, before settling in his chair to read. Even the telly, turned down low, would be too loud as Sherlock's hypersensitivity tended to go into overdrive when he was sick. Book in hand, attention divided between the words on the page and his miserable friend, John prepared for a long night.

***

Something rattled John from the sleep he hadn’t intended to drift into. A blurry look at his watch confirmed it to five minutes past three in the morning. Thank god he didn’t have clinic duty, later that day, as he would have been dragging himself around the office. He next looked towards the couch – squinting in the dim light. Blankets and pillows were scattered in a jumble that trailed from the couch and halfway across the rug. One needn’t be a world class detective to see the pattern of a panicked race towards the…

A muffled and violent gag came from the bathroom. John rubbed his eyes and pushed out of the chair – back already stiffened from the less than perfect sleeping surface. Approaching the shut door, he rapped lightly with his knuckles. “Hey, you alright in there?”

A response may have been attempted but was swiftly overcome by another rough sound and a watery moan. John hummed in sympathy. “Right. I’m opening the door.” Sherlock made no comment to this and remained slumped between the toilet and tub as John entered. Stretching across to flush away the vomit, John then reached down to press fingers against Sherlock’s pulse. His skin was still warm but, thankfully, felt a small bit cooler than before. Pulse was elevated but that was to be expected.

“Think you can walk back to your room? Probably be more comfortable than the couch.”

Lips pressing tight, likely debating the effect that going vertical would have on his constitution, Sherlock finally held out a limp hand with all of the wilting flair of a victorian maiden. John, to his credit, managed to keep his smile internal at the dramatics.

The journey to the bedroom, for all of its close proximity, was a saga of dragging feet, hitching breaths, and one alarming moment where it seemed a return to the bathroom may be needed. As it was, they made it without incident and John was able to lift the detective onto his mattress. Another soft groan slipped past clenched teeth as Sherlock settled. His eyes were two narrow slits; giving away his discomfort.

“I’m going to get you some more juice and something to help with the fever and nausea. Think you can swallow some tablets or would you prefer an injection?”

One long-fingered hand crushed around the duvet that covered him up to the chest. Finally, Sherlock gulped, then breathed out. “The tablets. Please.”

John nodded, even though Sherlock’s eyes remained closed. “I’ll be right back.”

Medicine administered, along with a full bottle of juice, John finally took himself back to his chair once more. Going off Sherlock’s previous illnesses, he’d likely be feeling much better by the following day and would be completely well by the end of the week. That meant at least two days of petulance and pouting, while John insisted that Sherlock stay home, rather than trekking out in the cold and giving himself pneumonia. Once was enough, thank you.

Lifting his discarded book, John pulled the quilt from the floor and placed it across his knees before flipping back to the last page where he’d left off.

He managed to read three paragraphs before feeling a sudden tickle in his nose. Immediately afterward, his whole body shuddered in a violent sneeze. And then another. And then a third one. Grabbing the nearby tissues, John blew his nose – swallowing around the start of a familiar dryness in the back of his throat.

“Well fuck.”

Read it on ao3

#sherlock #fanfic #MayPrompts2024 #writing challenge #writing community #bbc sherlock #john watson

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iwanttoleavethisblankbuticant · 2 years ago

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I’m back and ready to disappear again after I post this

!tw: mess. Like heavy mess. Don’t read if easily grossed out!

Hello, I am back and I bring you a little imagine~

Imagine just sitting at home when your roommate comes back. Their nose is an irritated red, snot pooling under the nostrils. With a sniffle they walk over and join you on the couch.

"I have hay fever and I hate me life." They whine as they curl up beside you.

"I feel so icky and I’m not even sick. My immune system is just bullying me and getting worked up over flowers." They add.

Your pitiful roommate looks up at you from their spot by your side. Then suddenly their chest starts to rise and fall frantically and they bring a hand up to their mouth.

"Hurrshuu!" They sneeze primarily out of their mouth, making no dent in the mucus in their nasal cavity, only pushing more up out of their sinuses to reside in their nose, too thick to run out.

"Sorry." Your roommate croaks out.

You assure them their fine and ask how they got suck bad hay fever. Your roommate just shrugs their shoulders weakly.

You pull them into your arms, soothing them gently. They bury their overflowing nose into you chest, getting snot on you in the process.

They squirm, unable to get comfortable with the itch in their skin and in their nose.

"Can I be disgusting?" Your roommate asks weakly, having no energy left to even try and be functional anymore.

You promise him you won’t judge And that it’s fine.

With the green light, your roommate gives up on all attempts at being put together. They squirm, moan, and groan into you. They rub their overfilled nose in a circular motion against your chest, trying to relieve the itch in their sinuses but only succeeding in plastering snot on your clothes. They let out a whine as the tickle won’t leave them be.

Then you feel their chest rise and fall rapidly against you, pressing against your chest then releasing suddenly as their breath hitches with a building sneeze. Their head tips backwards, their jaw slacks, then their bright and abused nose flairs and they snap forward with a sneeze stifled into your chest.

"Hu-hinngk!"

Stifling was a bad idea because immediately they snap forward with another half sneeze, and another, and another. They’ve gotten themselves stuck in a cycle of small rapid sneezes that bring them no relief and only push more snot into their nose.

Knowing they need your help, you pinch their nose shut, forcing some snot out onto your fingers as you keep them from sneezing long enough for a full on sneeze to build.

"H-hii-hehh hehh… Hechiewww!"

They sneeze as soon as you let go. They had clamped their hand so tightly over their mouth that it forced the sneeze to come out of their nose, forcing yellow snot out onto your chest and all over themselves. On their hand, on their sternum. They really did make a mess.

They pull away from you, thinking the fit over but are immediately proven wrong as they duck back into you and release another gurgling sneeze into your collar bone.

Their mucus is sinus infection yellow, no wonder they feel so miserable.

"I-I’m sorry. That was gross of me-" your roommate starts but you stop them. Then you grab a handful of tissues and begin to clean them and yourself up. They had hay fever and a sinus infection, you couldn’t hold it against them. So instead you held them protectively to your chest. You scratch their itchy and irritated back as they rub their equally itchy and irritated nose against you, leaving snot damped spots on your clothes.

They continue to sneeze into you, soaking you with snot as they bury their feverish head into your chest with ever spasm. You wipe allergic tears from their eyes as they snuffle back mucus. Someone so allergic to flowers really shouldn’t be a florist.

———————————————————————

This may be a little teaser to an oc I’m thinking of, but it puts you in the shoes of his roommate. Enjoy, sneeze fuckers and whumpies.

#snz kink #sneeze kink #snz fic #snzblr #sneeze blog #sneezefucker #snz things #snz fet #Sneeze fuckery #Mess #blank strikes again #Whumpy-ish

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perfectpaperbluebirds · 2 years ago

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Sicktember #3

Prompt: “What happened to your phenomenal immune system, huh?”

Fandom/OCs: New Girl (Schmidt and CeCe)

Words: 1240

Sicknario inspo: Knowing someone is sick because they sleep in from this post, "sounding like that" from this post, sleeping on her side of the bed from this post.

Author’s comments/background: I’m not used to writing this fandom, so idk how good the characterization is. But I love Schmidt and CeCe’s dynamic and it was fun to (attempt to) explore. And there is simply not enough New Girl sickfic in the world so here you go.

~~~***~~~

Dating a person like Schmidt was never boring. He was anything but predictable. However, he WAS a man of routine. Every time CeCe had slept over, it was always he that woke her, whether by bringing her breakfast or by exercising in the room to show off his body, or by kissing her somewhere sensual, he was always the early riser. Therefore, when one day she woke to find him still snoring beside her, she knew immediately that something was wrong.

She ran a hand down his arm, and he barely stirred. His skin was very warm. All of him was, she realized, and had been for a while. She was sweating just lying next to him. She slid out of bed, and still he didn't move. She watched him for a moment, frowning in concern as she debated waking him. He slept like the dead, though, breathing thickly, so she decided to leave him be.

Pulling on a robe, she padded out to the kitchen just as Nick and Jess emerged from their rooms as well. They headed straight for the coffee pot, barely awake, but stopped when they realized it was empty. They wordlessly turned to CeCe.

"Why didn't Schmidt make coffee this morning?" Jess mumbled, barely awake.

"Schmidt's not up yet."

That roused them more than anything else could have. Nick and Jess glanced at each other worriedly.

"He's not… awake? How is that possible?" Nick asked. "It's Schmidt. He's like a robot. He's programmed to get up at the exact same time every day and make us coffee."

"Not today, I guess," said CeCe. "I think he's sick. He's like, super warm. And he's snoring. It's not normal."

Nick groaned. "Great. His delicate internal wiring is compromised. Who knows what'll happen now. Sick Schmidt is a very bad thing. I'm not sticking around here until he wakes up. We're getting dressed and we're leaving, Jess."

"But–" Jess tried, looking at the coffee pot forlornly. Nick grabbed her arm and led her back to the bedroom before she could finish, closing the door behind them.

CeCe sighed. So much for getting any help from them.This was the first time she had ever dealt with sick Schmidt before, and she was at a loss.

When people were sick, what did they need? Medicine probably. Soup. Water. She could handle that. She didn't want to wake him up, though, since sleep was important too. She decided to leave him be for the time being. At least it was Saturday and she wouldn't have to worry about dealing with his job for a few days.

She got ready around him, listening to him snuffle and snore and mumble. Just as she was nearly finished, he rolled over suddenly. The movement apparently shifted whatever was in his nose, because he suddenly lifted his head to sneeze thickly:

"Hnnkkt'CHUH! Hehgg'CHUHH! EHHG'choo!"

He had clumsily thrown his elbow over his face in an attempt at covering, but the spray had still gone everywhere. Schmidt made a disgusted noise, clawing several tissues out of the box by his bed and scrubbing everywhere he could reach.

"Bless you," CeCe said, making him jump.

He looked beside him where she had been lying then back at her, as if making sure he wasn't hallucinating.

"CeCe? Why are you upb so early?" he mumbled, his voice rough and congested.

"It's not early, babe. It's late. It's after ten."

"Whadt!?" He jumped out of bed, staggering against the wall for a minute before he found his balance. "I godda go for mby Saturday run," he croaked. "I ndever mbiss mby run." He began to rifle through his dresser for his running clothes.

CeCe moved to his side, grabbing his hands to still them and pushing the dresser drawer closed with her hip. "You're definitely not going for a run sounding like that. You'd pass out from not breathing."

"I'mb fide, CeCe," he said, swiping at his nose with his shoulder.

"No. You're not. You're sick," she said.

"I'mb ndot sigck. I take extreme precautions and have a phenombenal immbune systemb. I ndever gedt sigck. Idt's jusdt… allergies."

CeCe rolled her eyes. "You're sick, trust me. You have a fever. You woke me up because you were so hot."

"Girl, you know I'mb always hodt," he said, taking a stab at his usual attitude and failing miserably.

"Uh huh, sure," she said, unimpressed. "I'm just saying, you should take some medicine for all that hotness or you're just going to feel worse."

"Girl, they don't mbake mbedicine for whadt I godt," he tried again, coming off even less convincing.

"Nope, they sure don't," she said flatly, grabbing her purse. "Whatever, do what you want. I have to go, Schmidt, I've got a gig at noon. But I'll be back when I'm done. Jess and Nick and Winston left, so please try not to do anything stupid until I get back. At least drink some orange juice or something. And maybe don't leave the apartment. I'm worried you'd get lost with a fever like that."

"I'mb fide, CeCe, really."

"Whatever you say, Schmidt. I'll see you in a few hours." With that she left, shaking her head, hoping against hope that he couldn't do too much damage to himself in that time.

~~~

She let herself into the loft with some trepidation that evening, wondering what she would find. The apartment was dark and quiet, and Schmidt was nowhere to be seen. Tossing down her stuff, she went in search of him. To her shock, she was exactly where she'd hoped he'd be… in bed, in his pajamas, napping, surrounded by used tissues. There was another break in routine, though: he was sleeping on her side of the bed, his face pressed into her pillowcase. Her face softened at the sight, and she went to his side, trailing her nails over his arm. His eyes flickered open, then lit up upon seeing her.

"CeCe, you're bagck! How was your gig?"

"Fine. The usual. Hot, dumb models and ugly, dumb directors everywhere. You would've loved it."

"Sounds like a dreamb," he yawned.

"But how are you? How are you feeling, actually?"

"Sigck," he muttered. "Tired. I barely lefdt this roomb all day."

"What happened to your phenomenal immune system, huh?" she gently teased as she shimmied out of her shoes and dress and pulled on a robe.

"Idt abandoned mbe, jusdt like everyone else," he sighed pathetically, closing his eyes.

"I'm here, aren't I? And look, you didn't even leave me room on the bed. Why are you lying over here, anyway?"

"Smbells like you," he said, barely audible, even as he shifted over to make room for her.

She had no smart remark to that, since it tugged on her heartstrings just a little too hard. She brushed away most of the tissues, then slid in next to him on the bed, letting her boyfriend cuddle into her arms immediately. He made a needy sound.

"I mbissed you," he sighed. "I hate bei'g sigck. Idt ruins everythi'g."

"Yeah, I get that," she said. "Makes for great cuddle time, though."

At last, she saw him smile for the first time all day. "Guess you'll have to show mbe."

And that's exactly what she did.

#sicktember 2023 #skt 2023 #prompt 3 #ne/w gir/l #sch/midt and ce/ce

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minteacutie · 2 years ago

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Super Late Birthday Fic

...I know this is like almost a month late @poetic-illness but I wrote you a Birthday fic because you wrote me a really great fic on my Birthday. So here this is Happy Super Late Birthday!!! I hope you like this!!! 🤣 Eddie fumbled with his phone getting a video call set up, propping his phone up on a nest of pillows. He smiled when Steve came into view but his smile quickly dropped when he noticed how pale and drawn his boyfriend looked. The light pink hue of a low-grade fever dusted his cheeks. “Flu finally catch up with you?” Eddie cooed, trying not to sound amused as his boyfriend recently bragged about how certain he wouldn’t get the flu this year. He’d even made sure to get his flu shot early if that wasn’t comedic irony. Shut uhhuh-up…”Steve grumbled, sniffling thickly through his clogged nose, rubbing at the flushed appendage with a bit of squish. “Someone’s grumpy…”Eddie teased good-naturedly, knowing Steve had a habit of getting slightly moody when he wasn’t feeling well. It probably didn’t help that Eddie was in another City visiting family. Steve was on his own with this bug, making his heart ache a little. “How’re you feeling?”He asked, chewing his lower lip, watching his boyfriend fuss a bit with his flushed pink nose nudging at already chapped skin. “Like crap, but better than I would if I hadn’t gotten my flu shot,” Steve sniffled scrunching up his nose, “...gh my nose is driving me nuts…” “Poor thing…”Eddie practically purred, wetting his lower lip watching Steve knuckle at his flushed nostrils and itchy squelch. Steve huffed out a laugh raising his brow at the other man from the other side of the screen. “Something tells me you’re not too disappointed to hear that.” “Tease.” Eddie cackled, flopping back against the headrest of the bed. “Sorry to disahhuh…point, Baby,” Steve chuckled, his breath wavering slightly with hitched breaths.” but I haven’t had much luck with sneezes today.” “Hmm…actually I might have an idea…if you’re interested?” He twisted a dark curl around his finger, tugging it over his mouth as he gave his boyfriend a cheeky little grin. Steve gave Eddie a questioning look curious as to what the other man was going to suggest. “Whhhuh-hat exactly do you have in mind, babe?” “You could try inducing…I could talk you through it if you wanted.”He suggested with a little shrug. Steve felt his skin prickle with excitement at Eddie's suggestion. He’d only recently learned about the other man’s kink but he’d had been enthusiastic to indulge his boyfriend. “And how do you suggest I go about that…since you’re the expert?” Steve asked flashing a grin at the older man. After a quick discussion, they decided Q-tip would probably be the best thing to start with. Not wanting to risk the prolonged misery of an allergy attack when his boyfriend was already feeling pretty crummy. Steve dug around in their nightstand in search of the tool in question, which had frequently appeared in many of their…inducing sessions. Making a bit of a triumphant noise when he finally found what he was looking for, holding it up to the camera to show Eddie. “So uh…how do I…”Steve started twirling the Q-tip between his fingertip anxiously. Eddie chuckled not used to seeing Steve look so uncertain, but to be fair he was usually the one inducing the younger man. “Well first you’ve gotta actually put the Q-tip in your nose, babe.” He teased earning an eye roll from his boyfriend, watching as he just barely inserted the fuzzy end of the Q-tip into his left nostril. His whole face scrunched up as he coughed ticklishly, immediately removing it to scrub his nose. “Gh…I forgot how weird it feels.” Steve snuffled thickly. “It’s ‘cuz it’s gotta go a little deeper than that Steve otherwise it’ll just make you cough, baby.”Eddie chuckled watching as his boyfriend fumbled awkwardly with the Q-tip. Steve coughed against as he reinserted the Q-tip following Eddie’s instructions sliding it into his nostril a bit deeper this time until the ticklish coughs tapered off into hitched breaths. The bridge of his straight nose wrinkled at the bridge. “That’s it, Stevie, now just start moving it around.”Eddie practically purred watching his boyfriend follow his instruction. His nostrils flickering as he swirled the Q-tip around. “O-oh that tihhih…tickles.” Steve mumbled through hitching breaths as he wiggled the Q-tip around in his left nostril. His expression grew hazy before it crumpled completely, “HahhAH’TSCHH! ‘TSCHHUUu! Hh’DKXnsh!” Steve practically snapped in half with harsh messy sneezes, the hand just hovering in front of his face Q-tip long forgotten still sticking out of his left nostril. Still ticklishly fluttering around as his mouth hung open slightly and his chest swelled with hitching breaths. “Ehhh- Ehhhh!! HUhh’ HHASHhieuu!!!” He plucked the Q-tip from his nostril, knuckling at the tip of his nose irritably. Lowering his hand from his face with a thick sniffle. “Bless you, Stevie…you look like you could use a nap.”Eddie cooed, watching as he practically melted back into the pillow on his bed relaxing a bit now that the tickle in his nose had been scratched. “Mmm…I can stay on longer…”Steve mumbled rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Alright, I’ll stay on with you a little longer…”Eddie smiled, talking to his boyfriend and telling Steve about his day. Keeping his voice smooth and even lulling the younger man to sleep. He smiled watching his boyfriend snore for a few minutes before mumbling a soft goodnight. Hanging up the phone.

#s/teddie #s/tranger t/hings #s/teve h/arrington #e/ddie m/unson #snzfic #Birthday fic #poetic-illness

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splattales · 9 months ago

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((Not sure how many of you are following the Queenie/Eelrune fluff since it's kinda side-story, but as a diehard fan I wrote a little fic a few months back and I want to share it here. Got the go-ahead from @grandpa-cephalopods - since I was experimenting with perspectives too. ))

((It's set before the human rocketship stuff happens, but apart from that it's pretty self-explanatory mushy stuff lol. Under the cut.))

Coughs and Sneezes

It was Eelrune’s day off. Her plans for a family visit had been cancelled due to transport issues, leaving her without much to do. She’d had a shower and watered her garden but was now struggling to find another means of occupying herself. She could read, or watch TV, or even try to study—but none of it felt particularly appealing. Something to drink, perhaps? That could waste about … five minutes…

After making herself some tea, she sat on the sofa to think. It was quiet. Things had been quiet for the past week and a half. Queenie hadn’t been visiting the clinic lately. She usually showed up every other day after work—Eelrune always finished much later. But recently, the human hadn’t shown up at all. Or called, or texted. Perhaps she was busy, but Eelrune had been contemplating the possibility that her friend had simply lost interest. After what she’d shared of her life; the little she did in her free time … it was highly possible Queenie found her boring.

Eelrune glanced at her shellphone. She could initiate a call herself, but knowing someone as talkative as Queenie, if she’d wanted to chat they’d be on the phone already. Then again … the human was prone to stumbling into dangerous incidents. What if something had happened to her?

Before Eelrune could begin wording her message, the phone rang. Startled, she answered at once, barely registering the caller ID—but it was someone she knew. “Hello?”

“Oh, Eelrune—” The high-pitched, teary warble of a voice reminded the nurse of Marina’s first visit to the clinic, where she’d burst through the door crying like Queenie had died. “It’s Queenie, she—”

“Has something happened?”

“Well—sort—kind of? I know you don’t know everything about human illnesses, but T’s phone is engaged, I don’t know who else to ask, I really need your help…”

“Okay, try to calm down. What’s the problem?”

Marina took a long, whimpering inhale, trying to control herself. “Ohhh… She says it’s fine, but you know how she downplays stuff all the time. She’s really sick, she only gets out of bed to throw up, she keeps sneezing and snuffling, and she can’t stand up for long…”

“That certainly doesn’t sound good…” Eelrune considered where she left the human handbook. This didn’t seem like a situation where she’d have to operate, but the details on human anatomy and bodily functions might help with a diagnosis. While it seemed like Marina was overreacting, it had been worrying enough that Queenie had kept this to herself. “I’ll come over and see what I can do. Where do you live?”

Silence fell on the other end at Marina’s pause. Not a snivel could be heard. As Eelrune was about to ask again, the octoling finally said, “I’ll meet you at Grizzco Industries and we’ll go from there.”

Once she’d collected her things, Eelrune set off to meet Marina. She hadn’t picked up much, most of the useful equipment was at the clinic, but the handbook and a purse-full of medicine would be enough until she could determine which to use.

Grizzco Industries wasn’t hard to reach, but the octoling wasn’t prompt about appearing, and it was an unpleasant place to stand around. When Marina finally did arrive, Eelrune was losing her patience, but she held her temper for the fretting girl. Besides, she’d used the time to revise human anatomy. It had some surprising similarities to other species.

“Sorry, I … got lost,” Marina mumbled. “I can find my way back, though. For sure. We can’t take too long.”

Eelrune nodded. “Lead the way.”

Marina seemed certain of her lead, though some of her turns felt a bit directionless, making it clear to Eelrune why she’d become lost. Eventually, though, they arrived at the outskirts of Splatsville, where a large lone caravan stood.

“Here we are.” Marina gestured before stepping closer.

“Where—the caravan?” Eelrune’s eyes darted around. “You both live here?”

“Yeah,” Marina confirmed, not registering the confusion in her voice as they started up the entrance. “It’s real close to the dig site I work at, so it’s a pretty great location – can you make the step? There aren’t too many, but it’s the only way in, so…”

Inhaling deeply, Eelrune tried to focus on the matter at hand. “Yes, not to worry.”

Once inside, it was clear they’d entered the kitchen. It was a lot tidier than the eel was expecting; clean kitchen surfaces and a neat dining table for one. There was another room leading to the right, but Marina seemed more interested in the one on the left.

“Queenie, I’m baaaack…” She motioned for Eelrune to stay put for now. “How are you feeling?”

A response drifted from within the room, nasally and pathetic. “Awful. Did you get me the tea I asked for?”

“Yes—and something better.” This time, Marina motioned for Eelrune to come through instead.

The moment she laid eyes on Queenie, a look of pure horror graced the human’s visage, and she pulled the covers of her bed up to her face. Her hair was unkempt, the bed itself was strewn with tissues, and there was a (mercifully empty) bucket next to the side-table.

“No, don’t look at me—!” Queenie squirmed, curling her legs up beneath the covers. “Marina, why did you bring her? Seeing me like this … it’s just a cold, I don’t need medical attention. Now she knows what squalor we live in!”

The octoling didn’t take this very well, and her concern flared into anger. “You can sleep outside if you want! I didn’t have to get you anything, or anyone, but I was worried about you! Shows me!” She stormed out into the kitchen, and Eelrune was left to deal with the situation.

“Well, it’s nice to see you too,” she huffed, sliding further into the room. “Marina said you’d been throwing up, and that sounds worse than a cold to me.”

“I’ll be fine, I prom—prom—hatchoo!” Queenie’s condition made this entirely unconvincing. “I’ll get better within a week on my own.”

“You might be right, but I’ve been asked to make sure.” Eelrune tightened her grip on her handbag. “I also brought a decongestant and some painkillers, but I’d like to make a diagnosis before I risk giving you any medicine.”

“Alright, fine. What do you want to do to me?”

“I’d like to take your temperature, listen to your breathing, and look at the inside of your mouth. There’s not much I can do without equipment…”

Queenie glowered at the floor, reluctantly lowering her blanket shield. “Do what you must, but I don’t like the sound of that last one.”

“I don’t have any tongue depressors on-hand, so you might escape it.” She didn’t have a sterilized thermometer either, so she placed her hand on Queenie’s forehead instead. It was warm. Humans were hot-blooded, but not THAT warm. “I think it’s safe to say you have a fever.”

“I could’ve told you that,” Queenie muttered. “How are you going to listen to my lungs without a stethoscope?”

Eelrune gave her a look, barely stopping herself from saying ‘How do you think?’ by maintaining her bedside manner. “I’ll put my head on your chest. The stethoscope’s purpose would be to amplify that sound.”

“You—you’ll—” Queenie was flushed already, but now she looked hotter. “Ohhh, hurry up then...” She took a sharp intake of breath as Eelrune rested her head against her.

“Exhale slowly, please.”

Queenie tried to do as she was told but was interrupted by her own cough. “Ugh… I hate having you see me like this.”

“Oh, please. I met you in a much more compromising situation.”

“At least that was spontaneous and dramatic.”

Eelrune rolled her eyes. Queenie’s pride always came from an unusual perspective. Maybe it was a human culture thing. “Yes, well … I can’t listen when you talk to me, so take another breath.”

This time, Queenie managed to subdue her cough. She shut her eyes, savouring some unspoken feeling as Eelrune listened.

The nurse soon lifted her head, adjusting her hair-tails. “It doesn’t sound like you have much liquid in there, which is better for you than it would be for seafolk.”

“I don’t like how you said much instead of any.”

“Well … your breathing is laboured. But it could be far worse. I can safely confirm that you’re not dying, as Miss Marina feared.”

Queenie pouted. “I told you I was fine.”

“That’s the problem—you’re not fine, either.” Eelrune folded her arms. “Is it true you’ve been throwing up? Can you stand for me? Can you walk?”

Trying to prove her point, Queenie struggled out from underneath the sheets and emerged from the bed, holding her hands out to steady herself. She teetered, attempting to set one foot forward, all with a defiant look on her face.

Eelrune put her arms out to catch her when she inevitably fell forward. “That settles it. I think you should stay in bed and rest.”

Queenie clung to her, hiding her face in her shoulder. She shook slightly, and Eelrune felt the fabric of her clothes dampen, but the human didn’t make a sound.

She patted her on the back. “I’m trying to help because I want you to get better. I’m not trying to hold anything over you—everyone gets sick.”

“Please can I have the medicine you brought now?” Queenie’s voice was much meeker than it had been.

“I’d like to give you it – but I have one more question to ask. Have you had our medicine before? I wouldn’t want to cause further complications by giving you something that wasn’t designed for your species’ intake.”

“Well, nothing else I’ve had has killed me yet … I’ll have a look at the packaging though, for your sake.”

“For my sake…?” Eelrune helped Queenie back into the bed, where the human sat up and grasped onto the blankets. She didn’t elaborate at this confusion and was still sulking. Before Eelrune could prompt her further, Marina re-entered with a tea-tray. It seemed she’d let off some steam with the kettle, her concern greater than any offense she’d taken. There were two cups.

“I’ve brought your tea.” She offered the tray to Queenie, who silently took one. Marina turned to Eelrune. “Sorry, I didn’t ask if you wanted one, but I made some anyway. If you want, there’s some sugar in the kitchen.”

“Oh—thank you.” The eel slid her cup off the tray, placing it on the bedside table. She watched as Marina tucked the tray under her arm. “Aren’t you having any?”

“Mine’s in the kitchen. I don’t really want to interrupt whatever it is you’re doing in here. Um, how’s it going?”

“I was just about to give Queenie something for her sickness. She should be alright, as long as she keeps resting and drinks plenty.”

“That’s a relief…” Marina rubbed at her brow. “Anyway, I’ll leave you be.”

Eelrune passed over the decongestant she’d taken out of her handbag. “You can’t take both medicines at the same time. But do make sure this hasn’t got anything toxic to humans…”

“I’m familiar with most medicinal components, I assure you,” Queenie reassured her as she studied the packaging, taking a quick sip of tea with her other hand. She thought it best not to mention her poison studies again. “This should be fine.” A pause. “Thank you.”

As Queenie took the medicine with her tea, Eelrune dipped out to put sugar in hers, mostly unnoticed. On her return, she rolled a chair over from Marina’s desk at the back of the room and sat at the bedside.

“I’m not much to look at right now,” Queenie grumbled, blowing on her tea.

“I assumed you’d want some company. But I can go—”

“Don’t go,” Queenie sighed. She put her tea aside. “Let me be plain with you, Runey.”

The tip of Eelrune’s tail twitched at the nickname, but she turned her head away in a demure manner. “I’m listening.”

“I am quite guarded with my emotions. Preserving my ego is … excruciatingly important to me.” She stopped to raise a tissue to her nose, sneezing before she continued. “As such, I find myself unpractised with expressing how I feel. About people, about my passions—I am often at war with myself, and as a result, I tend to put my foot in my mouth...”

Eelrune didn’t think that sounded healthy, exactly, but she left room for Queenie to continue.

“Which brings me to what I’m trying to say now. You … are very dear to me. You’ve done a lot for me, and I enjoy my time in your company.” The human fought her nerves, swallowing. “So … please don’t ever think I want you to leave, or that I’d want to leave you, er, ‘high and dry’. If I’ve been acting strange, it’s because…” Well, she didn’t have to admit the whole truth. “I’m struggling between long-dead social expectations and being a good friend.”

Hearing that Queenie had finished, Eelrune exhaled a long sigh. The human’s hand was flopped on the bedsheets, and she took it gently. She probably couldn’t catch it, but she’d definitely be washing her own hands later... “I understand. Well—more accurately, I understand what you’re trying to say. Your situation is practically unheard of. A fish out of water, if you’ll pardon the expression.” She looked down. “That must come with a lot to learn. Not just about Splatsville, but about yourself. I had a taste of that when I first moved here, but for you, well…” Eelrune looked up again to see how Queenie was reacting.

The human was regarding her with intense interest, patiently waiting for her to continue, so she did.

“It’s not surprising that you’d feel overwhelmed—nor will things magically fit into place.” She squeezed her hand, hoping to reassure her. “But if you want me here, then I’ll stay. I want you to get better.”

Queenie’s mouth half-opened, but she seemed to think better of whatever she was going to say. Eventually, she asked, “Is that because you’re a nurse, or because you’re my friend?”

“Well, take your pick.” Eelrune drew her hand back, reaching for her tea. “Because I’m both. But I didn’t come all the way here on my day off just because some patient of mine had the flu.”

The edges of Queenie’s mouth curled upward for the first time that day. It was weak, but the smile was there. “So … tell me what gossip I’ve missed while I’ve been sick in bed.”

#Plotpost #Queenie #Marina

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