#sore throat and something going on with my sinuses

[jesuistrestriste]

art donaldson mercilessly fucking you while he whimpers “imagoodboyimagoodboyimagoodboy—!” into your neck

his voice breaking and his hands clawing at your flesh, his entire body trembling as he’s able to focus on nothing but chasing the high of being inside of your convulsing warmth

[the-eng1ne]

good god i am so sick rn

[agdab]

fucking postnasal drip is driving me insane

[coquettefrancaise]

i got you babe

by sonny and cher

pairing: sick!Azriel x reader ~ 2.9k

warnings: non-sexual bathing

summary: when Azriel collapses from his fever while you're on vacation, you, the only person he'll accept help from, hurry home to nurse him back to health

a/n: overthinking is not for the weak (please please please give me ideas for fics guys I am stRuggling here)

Azriel had felt like shit the moment he woke up. From his sore throat to his heavy, achy limbs. Granted, he had felt the early symptoms of this earlier last night but had hoped sleep would erase it.

That didn't seem to be the case.

He rarely became sick but when he did, it was not pretty.

One could argue that it was because he didn't allow his body to rest which was why but he claimed it was a part of his 'bad luck'. The constant misfortune he was given that had wound him up with a loathsome childhood and three unrequited loves. Until you.

You had turned his world upside down so abruptly that he had been left dizzy and craving more. It took him time to be cared for in the way you did but he now grew to adore it.

He coughed, wincing at the soreness of his throat. Unfortunately for him, you were in the summer court with the females of the inner circle, taking a much needed vacation. And as much as he wished you were here to tell him he'd be alright, he didn't want you to end your trip early.

He stepped out of bed, hand catching the frame as he felt faint. He was fine.

He then took a moment for it to subside and went to change for training and take something for the intense pressure building in his head. It felt as if someone had stuffed cotton balls inside it.

One look in the mirror and he cringed. Face pallor, sunken eyes, sinuses swollen. His body screamed at him to go lay down and bury his face in your pillow and succumb to heavenly sleep. Anything besides being up and about.

Instead he splashed his face with cold water.

Besides... even if he didn't wish to disrupt your fun, Azriel was nothing if not schedule-oriented. It gave him some semblance of control to be able to know what his day consisted of. And it threw off his entire day if there was a kink in his program.

Albeit lethargically, he readied himself and swallowed a sour headache tonic. Hand pressed to his temple to further relieve the pain, he went downstairs to eat breakfast.

Cassian was at the table, a half-finished bowl of oatmeal and glass of water in front of him, humming a small tune. Cauldron, that water looked absolutely delicious.

"Good morning, sleepy head." Cassian cooed, pspspsing at Azriel as if he were a cat in want of chin scritches. "Ready for your ass to be beat?"

Azriel ignored the meathead and sat down, grumbling thanks to the house when his own food appeared. He didn't hesitate to gulp down the water, the ache in his chest dimming. Still fine.

He could feel Cassian's eyes assessing him, skeptical. "You look pale."

It was times like these that Azriel hated how observant the Lord of Bloodshed was.

Apparently, Cassian believed that, with you being gone, he was to be Azriel's warden. Telling him to go to bed when he had been too caught up in paperwork, reminding him to drink more water, having Rhys check on his whereabouts every few hours... and if he found out Azriel was sick, he'd coddle him. And Azriel didn't enjoy being coddled. Except by you.

"Woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. So you should probably take yourself out of my business before I shove that spoon up your ass."

Cassian threw his hands up in innocence, an amused chuckle falling from his lips. "You kiss your girlfriend with that mouth?"

Azriel made no comment.

"Aw, I understand now. Are you just so distraught that she's been gone for a week? Is that why you look so under the weather? She's your only salvation?"

Yes, actually. But Azriel wouldn't admit that.

"You really just enjoy hearing yourself talk, don't you?" he pushed his bowl of oatmeal away, not feeling too hungry.

"You can't even eat because you're so lost without her. It's alright to admit that you're totally, completely in love, Az. We've all been there."

Azriel felt that his head might explode if he sat there for one second longer, so he stood and headed up to the training ring. And Cassian, ever the obedient pup, followed.

As soon as they stepped out into the fresh air, Azriel felt somewhat better. Like he could breathe easier, even if his sinuses still stung sharply. He was still fine.

But his moment of relief was cut short as he swayed softly at his equilibrium being thrown off kilter.

Even in the dim lighting of twilight, Cassian caught the movement, frowning at Azriel. "You don't look so good, Az. You should sit down for a bit or-"

"I'm fine," Azriel snapped, closing his eyes as the intensity of the words caused him to feel even more light-headed.

He heard Cassian sigh heavily and then felt a hand at his brow. "Holy shit. You're hot."

Azriel scoffed.

"Not that way, you idiot," Cassian growled, "you're burning up with a fever."

"I already said I'm fine. Now can we please get this over with? I have actual work I need to catch up on."

"Mm, no."

And then Azriel was being pushed out of the training ring and towards the stair doors. "Your pretty bird would have my head if she knew I let you train in the midst of a fever."

There was no argument there.

You would have caught his fever way before it had broken, Azriel was sure. He never knew how you managed to do it. One cough and he would be put on bed-rest with warm soup being ladled to his lips while you dabbed at his sweat-slick skin with a cool washcloth.

But you weren't here to do those things so Azriel dug his heels into the gravel. "I've lived this long without being coddled by you Cassian. I think I can survive longer without you starting now."

Cassian would hear none of it, so he pulled out the big guns and said, "I'll tell her to come home early if you won't go back to bed."

That had Azriel's heels lift.

You had been ecstatic about this trip for months. You'd planned everything down to the last detail and even bought new clothing for it. Azriel wouldn't begrudge you your long-awaited vacation just because he wouldn't listen to his asshole of a brother.

"Fine," Azriel grumbled under his breath.

With that, Cassian continued to guide him to the stairs when Azriel collapsed. Not fine.

"I really, really, really wish we had a beach in Valeris."

You and the rest of the inner circle—excluding Amren—hummed in agreement at Nesta's contented sigh.

You had arrived nearly a week ago and spent most of the days under the summer court's sun while lounging on their pristine white beach. And in the evening, when the sun went to bed, everyone dressed their best and went out partying, taking advantage of the fruity beverages and up-beat music.

"You could always lay by the Sidra," Elain murmured from under her sun hat. While she didn't want to tan like the rest of you, she still wished to be nearby the group, so she used a towel and hat to cover her body from the warm rays.

"Because seeing a female in a skimpy bikini, sunbathing at the Sidra wouldn't be odd." Nesta said drily, adjusting the straps of said bikini.

The group chuckled then returned to the peaceful silence.

Oftentimes you all fell into naps from the noise of the salty waves lapping onto the shores at your toes. The only reason you hadn't burned to a crisp being that you periodically passed around a protective sunscreen.

Speaking of... you sat up, adjusting the sunglasses sitting on your nose, and dug around your bag for the sunscreen. "Alright ladies it's time."

Despite their groaning, they followed suit in sitting up, taking swigs from their waters and then passing around the lotion you offered. "You're such a mom," Mor teased, rubbing it into her arms.

You shrug, making sure you didn't miss the crevices of your ears or hair part. "I enjoy taking care of people."

"And we're grateful for that," Feyre chimed in, "because without you, we'd all be shriveled and red and a horrible sight for sore eyes."

You'd always enjoy taking care of the people you loved. It began when you were a little girl and you were tasked with watching your youngest siblings. If your parents weren't available, you fed, clothed, and played with them. Unlike others, you thrived under the responsibility.

So when you got together with Azriel, you were thrilled to find out that he wasn't very good at taking care of himself. While, yes, he was great at seeing to his family's and friends' needs, he neglected his own.

That's why you believed you were perfectly compatible. You looked after him and vice versa.

After everyone reapplied the lotion, you stuffed it back into your bag and laid back.

You wondered how Azriel was doing. If he was sleeping enough or- you shook your head. He was a grown male who was fully capable of taking care of himself. He didn't need you to constantly worry over him.

Unexpectedly, Rhys' voice filled your head.

"You need to come home,"

"Is everything alright?"

A pause. "Azriel collapsed."

You were on your feet instantly, heart pounding wildly in your chest like a drum. "Mor."

Mor quirked an eyebrow, clearly displeased at how you were blocking the sun.

"I need you to winnow me home. Azriel's hurt."

As hastily as you had jumped from your sunbathing chair, Mor had you in her arms, the world shifting under your feet until you appeared on the roof of the townhouse. Cassian stood a couple of feet away, leaning against the railing, no doubt waiting to fly you up to the house of wind.

"How is he?" you hurried to Cassian.

He smoothed his hands down your arms to calm you down. "Rhys and I didn't mean to scare you. Azriel is in stable condition but he collapsed on me this morning at training with a burning fever."

Of course the male would attempt to train while being sick. Yet, the worry in your stomach relaxed. You knew how to treat a fever. When Rhys had told you the news, your thoughts had turned to Azriel being seriously, deathly injured.

You took a deep breath in and blew it out. "Take me to him."

Mor called from behind you, "I'm going to head back to the summer court. Update us please."

You turned around and gave her a hug, thanking her for bringing you. "Drink a mojito for me. And don't forget sunscreen."

The blonde chuckled and squeezed you before leaving.

Not ten minutes later, you slipped into Azriel's room, a frowning Madja concocting a tonic at the vanity.

"Good thing you're here, child." She sighed, exasperated. "He's been moaning your name as if he were on his deathbed."

"It's a pleasure to see you too, Madja."

You walked to the bed, taking in the male under the sheets. Azriel looked worn. His skin was leeched of his usual sun-kissed color. Lips chapped and breath raspy.

Your fingers danced along his brow, concern furrowing your own at the heat emanating from his skin. How had he managed to even get to the rooftop this morning while burning this hot? Fevers this bad took time to build.

"Azriel?" you whispered gently, opening the top drawer of the nightstand to retrieve a lip salve and applying it to his lips. It was devastating seeing Azriel looking so sick; a stark difference to his usual strong, put-together appearance.

He hummed, eyelids shifting.

Madja walked to you, holding out a vial. The older fae probably wondered often herself how these males managed to survive this far with the way they managed to overlook their needs. "Have him drink this when he is awake. He'll need plenty of fluids and rest."

"Is there anything he could take to make him less dense?" you teased.

She muttered something under her breath, eyes turned heavenward as if praying for patience. "If there was, I'd have given it to them long ago. The high lord is practically paying for my existence at this point."

"Your work has probably made the biggest dent in his coffers."

Madja grinned, patting your hand. "I trust that you will manage him just fine. He's been one of the bats that I've tended to less ever since you entered his life."

A warmth filled your chest at her words. Madja's praise wasn't given often so you didn't think much when you wrapped the healer into your arms. She grunted softly, reaching around to tap your shoulder in reciprocation.

"Thank you Madja. For the compliment and being here for him. He worries me sick at times." You let go and turned to Azriel was still slept.

"That's how you know you love them, child. You continuously fret over their welfare and wish to take away their pain." A softness entered her eyes as she looked at Azriel too. "All the things he's endured, he never deserved"

It made you sick to think of his father and step-brothers. Of the things they had done to Azriel when he was only a child; small and vulnerable. "They defintely deserved what they got." Your voice was cold, not a tone you usually took up.

Madja nodded just as your name was raspily called from the bed.

You were sitting immediately, brushing the hair from his forehead. "Azriel?"

Hazel eyes blinked open, bleary from sleep. The corners of his mouth quirked up as he took you in before promptly falling. "You're-" he coughed, "you're not supposed to be here."

"Why not?"

"You were in the summer court... having fun."

Soft lips pressed to the crown of his head. "And I'm here now and I want to make sure you're healthy."

"I didn't want you to leave early. You were so excited."

"I wanted to leave early. I wasn't going to continue having fun while my stubborn boyfriend was sick and fainting in the training ring. Do you know how bad you scared me?"

Madja quietly slipped out of the room, giving you privacy.

"'m sorry," he rasped.

You sigh, "Let's get you into a cool bath, shall we? It will help to bring your temperature down."

He let you help him up, muscled arm across your shoulder as you led him into the bathing room and stripped him of his clothes. "For the record," you said softly, pulling off his socks, "I'm not angry at you. Only disappointed."

"Why?"

You stood, holding his face in between your hands, looking down at him from where he sat on the toilet. "Because I love you and I want you to feel that you can come to me whenever you're not feeling great. I hate knowing you were suffering alone."

He cast his eyes down to the floor, "You're always taking care of me."

"Do you not... not want me to?"

Did he think your constant attention was annoying? Sure, some people thought you were overbearing but you thought Azriel appreciated it. Wouldn't he tell you otherwise?

"No, my love," he pressed his forehead to your ribs, shaking hands gripping onto your thighs. "I didn't want to burden you."

"You could never, ever, burden me." It was said with finality.

Hot air blew across your exposed midriff. "Love you,"

"And I love you." You sank to your knees so you were eye-level. Despite his flushed face, his eyes were full of so much love and gratitude. "And I love taking care of you. There is nothing in this world I would rather be doing. So let's get you into this bath and into bed so you can feel better, hm?"

As he lounged in the tub, head thrown back against the lip as you soothed a rag across his chest and face, you laughed. You only now realized you still wore your bathing suit.

He cracked open one eye.

"You must be severely under the weather to not even notice my outfit."

His eyes scanned your body, tucked into the scanty blue bikini. "Is that color...?"

"The same color as your siphons? Yes."

The water disturbed as he lifted out a hand, bringing it to the nape of your neck where it was tied. You shivered at the cold of the water. Then you gasped as, with one expert flick, it became undone. You barely had time to catch the strings before you flashed Azriel. "Az!" you scolded, face pink.

"Can't a dying man admire his girlfriend's beautiful body?"

"You're not even dying." You tied the strings once more. "How about this? When you're fever breaks and you aren't falling asleep every five minutes, I'll let you admire me as much as you wish."

He smirked in reply, waving his hand haughtily. "Carry along with your ministrations then. I need to recover quickly."

You giggled as you continued to blot the cloth at his warm skin.

Later that night, when you were both tucked into bed, you smiled to yourself. Azriel was practically sunken into your skin with how his legs were intertwined with your own, arms wrapped tightly around your torso, and face tucked into your neck.

You truly did enjoy taking care of him.

divider credit: cafekitsune

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Oh my lovely Bucky writer. I'm in great need of some protective Bucky vibes, with a sick or hurt reader who hides it to not make a fuss, she's afraid the others think she's too weak to be in the team, cause she's new. But Bucky noticing her being hurt or sick and goes all in full blown protective mode. And takes cares of her 🥹😪 and makes sure that she can trust him. 💔 Reader is like “I’m fine—“ and then Bucky cuts them off and says “if anyone give you shit for not coming to the meeting, I’ll beat their asses” 😭

It’s Ok To Feel Weak Sometimes » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Female Reader

Summary: You catch a cold, but you don’t want the team to think you’re weak and Bucky assures you that it’s ok to feel weak sometimes.

Warnings: none except Fluff

A/N: Thank you for the request, nonnie🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

You woke up with a stuffy and runny nose and a sore throat. You sighed loudly before getting out of bed. You walked in the bathroom and looked in the mirror. Your cheeks are rosier than normal. That was more than enough to tell you that you have a cold. You decided to be in denial about it. You blew your nose and took some allergy medicine. You got dressed for training and put your hair in a messy bun before making your way to the gym.

The allergy medicine cleared your sinuses, but that didn’t last long. You were breathing through your mouth the whole time you were training. You pretended to be fine and you straightened your posture out any time an Avenger walked in the gym. When Bucky walked in the gym, he automatically knew something was off with you. It’s like his superpower.

“Doll?” Bucky says.

You jumped, not knowing someone was in the gym. You turned around to see Bucky standing a few feet away from you. You cleared your throat before speaking.

“Good morning, Bucky.” You say, your voice hoarse.

“Good morning, doll.” He says.

Bucky walked closer to you. He studied your appearance. Your nose is red and runny, along with your cheeks. He can tell your nose is stuffy from the way you’re breathing.

“You have a cold.” He says.

“No I don’t. It’s allergies.” You lied.

Bucky crossed his arms over his chest. He knows when you’re lying.

“Try again and don’t even think about lying to me.” He says.

“I’m-” A harsh cough left your lips before you could finish your sentence.

Bucky winced at the way the cough sounded. That was enough to tell him that you also have a sore throat.

“You’re going back to bed.” He says, wrapping his arms around you and gently walked you out the door of the gym.

“I’m fine-” Bucky cut you off before you could say anything else.

“If anyone gives you shit for not coming to the meeting, I’ll beat their asses.” He says.

“Ok.” You mumbled.

Bucky took you back to your bedroom.

“You put your pajamas back on and I’ll make you some tea.” Bucky says.

You smiled and nodded. Bucky went to the kitchen to make you some tea while you changed back into your pajamas. You put on a shirt that belongs to Bucky that may have gotten “mixed up” in your laundry and a pair of sleep shorts. You got back in bed and under the blankets and turned the TV on while you waited for Bucky.

“Here’s your tea, doll face.” Bucky says as he walks in your room.

You sat up as Bucky handed you the cup of tea.

“Thank you, Bucky.” You smiled.

“You’re welcome, doll.” He smiles back.

Bucky put his right hand on your forehead to see if you have a fever and you do.

“Doll, you have a fever.” He says.

You groaned and pouted.

“I know.” He whispers, kissing the top of your head. “I’ll get you some medicine.” He says.

He went in your bathroom and searched in your medicine cabinet for cold medicine. He found it with ease and brought it to you.

“Here you go, doll face.” He says, handing you the cold medicine.

You took it and washed it down with the tea. Bucky took his jacket off and kicked his boots off before getting in bed next to you. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to him.

“Why didn’t you just stay in bed when you knew you were sick?” Bucky asks.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged, playing with his Army dog tags. “I didn’t want anyone to think I’m weak since I’m the new girl and all.” You say quietly.

“It’s ok to feel weak sometimes.” He assures. “Wanna know something?” He asks.

You looked up at him and nodded.

“During my days as the Winter Soldier, I felt weak sometimes. Most nights, I stayed awake and stared at the wall or the ceiling. I just hated the fact that they used me as a weapon.” He says.

“Really?” You asked.

“Mhmm.” He hums.

Bucky telling you that made you feel less weak. It’s helpful to know that.

“Thank you for telling me that, Bucky. I feel better knowing that.” You say with a smile.

“You’re welcome, doll. Now, get some rest. I’ll be here the whole time.” Bucky says softly, kissing your forehead.

You snuggled yourself against Bucky and laid your head on his chest. A combination of the cold medicine and the sound of his heartbeat made you fall asleep. Bucky dozed off a little bit after you did.

You weren’t sure how long you had been sleeping, but Bucky woke up before you. Instead of getting up and accidentally waking you up, he scrolled through his phone and watched TV to keep himself occupied, keeping the TV on a low volume so it didn’t wake you.

Meanwhile, the Avengers were in the conference room, waiting for everyone so they can start the meeting for an upcoming mission later this week. Everyone was in the conference room, except you and Bucky.

“Where’s Barnes and Y/L/N?” Tony asks.

“I don’t know. I seen Y/N in the gym this morning.” Natasha says.

“I’ll go look for them.” Steve says.

Steve stood up and left the conference room. He looked in every room you and Bucky might be in. You two weren’t in the lounge room, kitchen, or the gym so he went to Bucky’s bedroom, but neither of you were in there. That’s when his enhanced hearing heard the sound of your TV playing. He opened the door to see you sleeping in Bucky’s arms.

“What are you guys doing? We have a meeting.” Steve says quietly.

“Y/N has a cold and I’m taking care of her.” Bucky tells him quietly.

“Oh ok. I get it. I’ll update you guys later when she’s awake.” He says.

Bucky smiles and nods, loving how understanding his best friend is.

“Steve?” Bucky says.

“Yea, Buck?” Steve asks.

“Y/N is going to need the next couple days off.” He says.

“She can have the rest of the week off and so can you.” Steve smiles.

“What about the mission?” Bucky asks.

“Sam and Natasha can fill in for you two.” He says.

“That sounds good. Thank you, man.” He says with a smile.

“You’re welcome.” He smiles before leaving your room.

Steve closed your bedroom door quietly so he didn’t accidentally wake you up. He went back to the conference room.

“Did you find them?” Wanda asks.

“Yes and Y/N has a cold. Which means Sam and Natasha are filling in for Bucky and Y/N.” Steve says.

As the meeting started, you stirred in your sleep. You rubbed your eyes and stretched. You looked at Bucky to see him still next to you, making you smile.

“Morning, sleepyhead.” Bucky coos, kissing the top of your head.

“Morning, Bucky.” You giggled softly. “Who were you talking to a little bit ago?” You asked curiously.

“Steve was wondering where we were and he gave us the rest of the week off. Sam and Natasha are filling in for us on the mission. He said he’ll keep us updated.” He explains. “How are you feeling?” He asks, moving your hair out from your face.

“Better than I was this morning.” You say.

Bucky put his right hand on your forehead to see if you have a fever or not.

“I think your fever is gone. You don’t feel as warm as you did earlier.” He says.

“That’s because I have my favorite person taking care of me.” You smiled. “Thank you, Bucky.” You say.

“You don’t have to thank me, babydoll. I love taking care of you.” He says, kissing your forehead.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[evie-sturns]

sick - Matt Sturniolo

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summary: when you come down with a bad cold, the only person you want is your best friend matt.

contains: fluff, bestfriend!matt, comforting, a little bit of crying.

a/n: just a short one today due to the fact i'm literally bed bound sick.

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i roll over in my messed up sheets, my whole body practically on fire and my head throbbing. i let out a frustrated groan as i wait for matt to finally come over to my place,

i invited matt over around 20 minutes ago, meaning he should be here at any moment.

click

the door to my bedroom opens and i'm met with matts sorry face. "matt!" my voice croaks, which quickly turns into a fit of coughs.

"you look like hell" matt laughs slightly, "such a gentleman matthew." i scoff with an eye roll.

"are you feeling okay?" he asks, walking over to my side of the bed and picking up the piles of tissues on the floor.

"oh- matt you don't have to touch those tissues." i protest, "its all good." he smiles before chucking them in the bin thats in the corner of my room.

i go to get out of bed, then stumble over into matt. "careful there" he says, grabbing my arm.

"my hair is like matted i need to brush it." i sigh,

"lay back down, i'll get your brush." matt says, helping me back down into bed. i lay down against the plush of my sheets.

matt disappears into my bathroom and comes out a couple seconds later with my baby pink brush and a few hair ties.

he jumps into bed next to me and pulls me onto his lap as he sits up against the headboard.

i sit facing the front, i can feel matt's light breathes coming from behind me as one of his cold hands finds its way into my hair.

"do i just.. brush it?" matt asks, "obviously." i laugh,

matt runs the brush through my hair gently, "does that hurt?"

"no it's okay" i smiles, rubbing my nose with the palm of my hand.

matt bunches up my hair in the back and ties it into a loose low bun, "that feel better?" matt asks, i nod before laying back against matt's chest.

i feel my body shiver all though i'm boiling hot, my sinuses are completely blocked and my throat feels like it's being cut by 1000 razor blades.

"my stomach hurts." i sniff, wiping my eyes as i feel myself grow overwhelmed.

"i know it does, i'm sorry." matt whispers,

i feel a couple tears fall down my hot cheeks, which quickly turns into a small sob.

"oh no- sweetheart don't cry." matt rubs my arms, "i feel sick." i mumble,

"i know you do, you've got a bad cold haven't 'ya?" matt coo's, i nod with a small pout.

matt continues to hold me close, his warmth comforting against the cold temperature of my body. i lean into him, feeling the rise and fall of his chest with each breath.

"do you want me to get you some water?" he suggests softly, his fingers gently tracing circles on my back.

"please," i manage to whisper, my voice barely audible through the congestion.

matt leaves the bed. i hear him moving around in the kitchen, the clinking of mugs and the sound of water spilling, followed by a small 'shit'.

he returns with a glass of water. he hands it to me carefully, his eyes full of concern.

"thank you," i say hoarsely, taking a sip. it feels like a balm to my sore throat, easing the rawness with each swallow.

matt sits back down beside me, pulling the covers up over both of us. he wraps his arms around me, holding me close as i drift in and out of a feverish sleep.

"i feel like death." i say with a cough, matt laughs slightly "you're gonna be okay, i promise."

"i don't want you to get sick matt-" i say, shooting up in bed.

matt grabs my arm and pulls me back down onto the matress, "you won't, i'm like 'fuckin superman or something, i don't get sick."

"oh your tough" i tease him, earning a small flick to my arm

"shush" matt scoffs, wrapping his arms around me, "you should just be grateful i haven't thrown up on you." i point out

"if you throw up on me i'm going home y/n" matt states, rubbing his eyes with a grin.

"then i'll try to keep my lunch down!" i say stupidly,

"thank you for your consideration" he laughs, i rest my head on his chest as i shut my eyes.

"go to sleep you idiot." matt sighs, i nod tiredly into his shirt.

matt presses a small kiss to the top of my head, and with another crunchy cough i feel myself slowly doze off to bed.

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

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[big-ooof]

Tuesday Night Confession

non idol au!jungwon x f!reader

note: sexual content 18+

Jungwon always said our high school library after dark felt like a place suspended between the world you had to exist in and the one where you could just breathe.

It was quiet. Not dead quiet, you can hear pens scratching paper, the hum of ancient lights. You sat across from him at a wooden table that has probably seen more panic than any actual librarian ever did.

“You’re highlighting the whole page again,” he murmured without looking up.

You froze mid-stroke. “No I’m not.”

“You are,” he said, finally lifting his head. His bangs were slightly curled from how often he ran his hand through them when he studied. He was wearing that zip-up hoodie he always left in your locker, sleeves pushed to his elbows.

“It’s all important,” you muttered defensively, trying not to smile.

“Then none of it is,” he replied, grinning.

You stuck your tongue out at him, and he snorted before tossing a sour candy across the table. It bounced once, twice, and rolled into your open palm. “Peace offering,” he said.

“You interrupted my study flow.”

“It’s not a flow if your highlighter’s dry.”

You rolled your eyes and popped the candy in your mouth anyway. You two had always been like this. Comfortable. Too comfortable.

You called it friendship, because naming it anything else felt like cracking open a window during a storm, it might blow the whole thing over. So instead, you existed in the space between glances that lingered a second too long, between knees that brushed under the table and hands that almost held yours before pulling back.

You were writing flashcards when his voice broke the quiet again. “You thinking of going far for college?”

You blinked. “Random.”

“Just wondering. You’re always talking about getting out of this city.”

You leaned back in your chair, pen tapping against your notebook. “I don’t know,” you said. “Sometimes I do. But then I think about all the people I’d miss.”

He didn’t say anything right away. Then: “I’d miss you, too.”

Your heart stuttered. “Too? Are you assuming I’d miss you?”

He smiled, slow and small. “Wouldn’t you?”

And there it was again, that feeling. Like standing on the edge of something, toes curled just over the drop, waiting to see if he’d jump first. You looked down at your notes instead. “Maybe.”

It was nearly 11pm by the time you both packed up. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as Jungwon held the door open for you, his backpack slung over one shoulder. The air outside was crisp, the streetlights throwing pale halos across the pavement. You walked side by side down the quiet block. His hand brushed yours once. Then again. You never moved away.

“Hey,” he said softly.

You turned your head. “Hm?”

He was staring up at the sky, lips parted like he wanted to say something. Something important, but then he just exhaled. “Nothing.”

You nodded, even though part of you wanted to stop, to ask. But you didn’t. Instead, you reached into your hoodie pocket and slid your fingers across the candy wrapper he’d given you earlier. And you smiled to yourself.

You didn’t know it then, but you’d both keep walking like that for years: hearts half-open, always almost saying it. And it would all come undone on a Tuesday night in a different city. But for now, you were just two kids walking home under streetlights, neither of you brave enough to say: I already love you.

You didn't go far for college. You also didn't need to go out tonight. You had a paper due in 36 hours, two loads of laundry still wet in the dorm washers, and the start of a sore throat brewing behind your sinuses. But your friends begged. It was Tuesday, trivia night, and Jungwon was going. That was enough to get you out of the house.

He was already at the booth when you arrived. Wearing a white tee, silver chain, drink in hand, eyes bright in the low glow of the bar’s purple neon sign. He grinned when he saw you.

“Late,” he teased.

“You’re early.”

“I missed you,” he said, like it was obvious. You didn’t let that sit too long. Just slid into the booth beside him and grabbed the empty glass pushed your way.

Two rounds in, your friend dared Jungwon to say something he’d never admitted out loud. He stared into his drink for a beat too long. You weren’t sure he even heard the question until he leaned close, so close his shoulder brushed yours, his voice cutting through the noise like it was meant only for you.

“You ever think we should’ve tried it?”

You blinked. “Tried… what?”

“You. Me.”

You laughed—quick, nervous. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m drunk and honest.”

You felt your mouth go dry. He wasn’t looking at you. He was staring ahead, lips parted like he hadn’t even registered what he said. Or maybe he had, and he was scared to take it back. You could’ve said something. You should’ve.

Instead, you stared at him. At the curve of his mouth, the slope of his neck, the way his fingers tapped nervously on the rim of his glass.

You leaned in. “You wanna get out of here?”

You stumbled into his room tangled together, the door half-closed, shoes abandoned in the dark. His lips were on yours before you could think, before either of you had time to regret. It was messy. Hungry. Years of tension detonating in one drunken night. Your back hit his mattress and he hovered over you, breathing hard.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered. You didn’t. You kissed him harder.

He kissed down your neck like he’d dreamed about it, one hand gripping your thigh, the other fumbling with the hem of your top. He pulled it off with a soft curse under his breath, eyes dark when he looked down at you.

“God, you’re…” He didn’t finish. Just leaned in again, slower this time.

His mouth found your breast, warm and wet. You arched into him, nails raking lightly down his back. You helped each other out of your clothes in pieces. His jeans first. Then yours. He kissed your stomach. Then your thighs. Then lower.

“You sure?” he asked again, voice rough.

You nodded. “Please.”

And when he finally pushed into you, it was slow, like he didn’t want to hurt you, didn’t want to rush, even though his hands were trembling.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You feel like…”

You tightened around him, legs wrapped around his waist. “Don’t stop.”

He kissed you, desperate, tender, everything at once. It wasn’t just sex. You knew that even with the alcohol, even in the blur of bodies and breath. It was something deeper. Older. Like your bodies were finally catching up to the truth your hearts had been whispering for years.

He came with your name in his mouth, hips stuttering against you. You followed seconds later, gasping his name into the crook of his neck.

You woke up tangled in his sheets, your head heavy and heart heavier. Jungwon was already up, sitting at his desk, staring at his phone. He looked up when you stirred, but not for long.

“Hey,” he said. Soft. Casual… too casual.

You sat up, your throat tight. “Hey.”

Neither of you mentioned the night before. He handed you water. You pretended to check the time. He asked if you wanted to grab breakfast. You said you had class. And that was that.

You didn’t know what scared you more: that maybe it didn’t mean anything to him. Or that it did.

After that night, you didn’t speak for three days. You texted once.

you: hey, did you want to talk?

You watched the bubble appear, then disappear. He never sent anything back.

By the next week, you told yourself it was a one-time thing. You had kissed, touched, and fallen into each other like the world would end by morning, but it hadn’t. The sun came up. You both woke up. And neither of you had the courage to stay in the dream. He didn’t avoid you. Not really.

He still sat near you in lecture. Still laughed when you answered something dumb in class. Still showed up at Sunoo’s party two weeks later and waved from across the room. But he didn’t ask to walk you home. Didn’t text at night anymore. Didn’t look at you like he wanted to pick up where you left off.

And you didn’t ask why.

He went abroad three months later, for a semester. A last-minute decision, he said. You said goodbye in a group chat like everyone else. Waved at the airport with the others. Smiled when he hugged you. He didn’t say anything extra. Didn’t look at you like he was holding something back.

Still, you watched his plane disappear from the terminal window, your hands cold in your pockets, wishing you’d said something. “I miss you,” maybe. Or, “I wanted that night to mean more.” Or even just, “Don’t leave before I figure out how to ask if you felt it too.” But you just went home.

While abroad, Jungwon never sent pictures. Not to you, anyway. Sunoo said he looked “free” over there. Wandering open-air markets, getting too much soju with new friends, dyeing his hair and cutting it short. You watched his stories sometimes. Muted the audio.

One night, you got a call at 3:27 a.m. — no caller ID. You answered, groggy.

“Hello?”

Silence… Then a voice you hadn’t heard in weeks. “It wasn’t nothing.”

Your heart jumped. “Jungwon?”

“That night. I thought about it all week. I still do.”

“You’re drunk,” you whispered.

He laughed bitterly. “I am.” More silence. “I think I fucked up.”

You sat up in bed. “Then come back.”

The line went dead. He never brought it up again.

He came back in the spring. With someone else. She was quiet. Pretty. A year below you. She wore soft perfume and knew all his favorite restaurants. He held her hand at Sunoo’s grad dinner. She kissed his cheek in photos.

He never looked at you the way he did that night in the bar again. But sometimes, you’d catch him glancing. Quick. Sharp. Like a heartbeat he didn’t mean to feel. And you’d pretend you didn’t notice. You didn’t have a fight. No dramatic falling out. Just the slow burn of two people who never quite got brave enough.

He graduated and moved back to the city. You stayed behind for grad school. You got serious with someone else. Broke up. Got over it.

Time passed. Jungwon had proposed to someone and you promised yourself you’d stop checking up on him on social media. It was when you met up with Sunoo to plan for his upcoming birthday that you found out Jungwon called off the engagement.

You didn’t know he’d be there at Sunoo's birthday party. You walked in, holding a gift bag and trying to balance two cupcakes in one hand, and there he was. Same eyes. A little older. A little softer around the edges. He looked up and saw you.

And for the first time in years, you saw something unspoken rise to the surface again. This time you didn’t look away.

Jungwon’s POV

He almost didn’t go. Sunoo’s texts were persistent, borderline unhinged, full of emojis and promises of strawberry soju, and “at least pretend you love me, hyung.” But parties weren’t his thing anymore. Not since quietly calling off the engagement six months ago. It felt less like a breakup and more like quietly putting down something he was never meant to carry. He stood in front of his closet, staring at his reflection like it might give him a sign. Black shirt. Chain. The same one he wore that night. His fingers grazed it like muscle memory. He recalled what he said: “You ever think we should’ve tried it?” His own voice haunted him. He didn’t meant to say it then. Didn’t even remembered saying it the next morning. But your eyes told him you did. And your body… the way you pulled him close. The way you whispered “please”. He thought about that night more than he’d admit. About your skin. Your sighs. The way you looked up at him like he was something precious. And how he’d ruined it by pretending it hadn’t happened at all. He wasn’t proud of who he’d been. Running. Avoiding. Pretending like silence was easier than honesty. He’d told himself he didn’t deserve you. But lately, he wasn’t sure if that was true. Maybe he was just afraid. Sunoo’s party was already loud when he arrived. Warm lights. Music from the kitchen speaker. Laughter spilling out of every room. Jungwon made it twenty minutes before he thought about leaving. And then— he saw you. Time didn’t slow down. It cracked. You walked in, cupcakes in one hand, your hair tucked behind one ear like you always used to. Same eyes. Same way you bit the inside of your cheek when nervous. Jungwon forgot how to breathe. You looked up. Met his gaze. Held it. Not a flinch. Not a blink. Shit. You were even more beautiful than he remembered. And tonight… he wasn’t going to run.

The room was full, but they were the only ones breathing.

Your stomach dropped the second you saw him. Not because you weren’t prepared, but because you were. You had thought about this. What you’d say. How you’d act. Whether you’d pretend not to care or let the fire in your chest burn wild.

Jungwon looked… different. Not unrecognizable, just older. Sharper jaw. Tired eyes. Black button-up rolled to his forearms. He hadn’t shaved. But the way he looked at you, like a breath caught in his throat, was the same. You didn’t look away.

Sunoo screamed when he saw you. Literally. He flung himself into your arms like you hadn’t just seen him two weeks ago for coffee. You let yourself laugh, if only to avoid the weight of the stare still anchored across the room.

“You look hot,” Sunoo said shamelessly. “Someone’s gonna fall in love with you tonight.”

You lifted a brow. “Oh yeah?”

“Manifesting.”

“For me or for him?” you asked, and tilted your head just enough for Sunoo to follow your gaze.

He stopped bouncing. Blinked. Then: “…Both?”

You rolled your eyes.

You didn’t talk to Jungwon right away. You floated through the party. Took shots with Heeseung. Laughed too loud at a drinking game you didn’t want to play. Pretended not to notice that Jungwon stood at the edge of every room you entered. But you felt him. God, you felt him. Every time your eyes drifted to him, he was already looking. Every time you got too close to someone else, his jaw tensed.

Until— you passed him on the way to the bathroom. He touched your wrist. Just lightly. Just enough. “Can we talk?”

Your throat tightened. “Now?”

He nodded.

So you followed him down the hallway, past coats and old memories, into Sunoo’s guest room. The one with the broken lamp and the unmade bed. He closed the door behind you.

Silence. Then, “you look good,” he said softly.

You didn’t reply.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” he continued.

“Would you have come if you did?”

He hesitated. “Yes.”

That startled you. Enough to meet his eyes. “You’re the one who disappeared, Jungwon.”

“I know.”

“You slept with me, said something real, and then pretended none of it happened.”

“I know.”

You swallowed. “So why now?”

He stepped closer. You didn’t move. “Because I never stopped thinking about you.”

Your breath caught.

He exhaled shakily. “I called off the engagement because I couldn’t do it. Not with someone I didn’t see a future with. Not when I couldn’t stop seeing you in it instead.”

You blinked hard. “Don’t say that unless you mean it.”

“I do.”

Silence stretched. Too taut. Too full.

And then you said: “Then show me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Jungwon kissed you like he was making up for everything he never said.

Your back hit the door before you could say another word, his hands already cradling your jaw, thumbs brushing your cheek like you’d vanish if he let go. His lips were rough, not from aggression, but restraint. Like he’d wanted this for too long and wasn’t sure how long you’d let him have it.

You tugged him closer. He groaned into your mouth, like the sound had been hiding in his chest for years. “I missed you,” he whispered against your lips.

“Then don’t stop,” you breathed back.

Clothes disappeared in pieces. First his shirt, you dragged it up and over his head, fingers brushing the warm expanse of his chest, his lean stomach flexing as you touched him. His skin was hot, flushed, and you traced every part you didn’t get to memorize the first time.

He unzipped your dress slowly, reverently. Eyes locked on yours.

“Can I?” he asked, hands trembling where they gripped the fabric.

“Yes,” you said. “Please.”

He kissed down your shoulder as he pulled it off, letting it fall to the floor. His hands found your waist, sliding over your curves with aching gentleness.

“You’re even more beautiful now,” he whispered. “Fucking perfect.”

You pushed him back toward the bed. He went willingly.

The moment you straddled his lap, everything blurred. You kissed like you were trying to crawl inside each other, to remember how it felt to be known so deeply your name felt like safety. You rolled your hips over his, grinding through the fabric between you. He hissed.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he muttered, breathless.

“You deserve it.”

He smiled. Then flipped you, gentle but firm, pinning you beneath him.

“Say it again,” he murmured against your neck.

“You deserve it?”

“No.” He kissed down your collarbone. “That you missed me.”

You arched as his mouth found your breast, tongue circling your nipple before he sucked it softly. “I missed you,” you gasped, nails digging into his shoulder. “I missed you so much.”

“Fuck,” he growled.

When he slid down your body, kissing his way lower, you tangled your fingers in his hair. He looked up from between your thighs, eyes dark, lips swollen.

“Tell me what you want.”

“You,” you whispered. “Just you.”

He didn’t hesitate. His tongue met your heat like he’d been dreaming about it. Slow at first, savoring every response, the way you gasped, trembled, clutched at the sheets. He sucked your clit gently, then harder, fingers gripping your thighs as he devoured you.

“You taste so good,” he moaned. “So fucking sweet.”

Your thighs trembled. You were so close it hurt. “Jungwon—” He slid two fingers inside you, curling just right, and you broke. “Fuck—Jungwon—”

He held you through it, mouth never leaving you, like he wanted to swallow your moans. When he kissed you again, you could taste yourself on his tongue.

“I need you,” you whispered, desperate.

“You have me,” he said. “You always have.”

He lined up at your entrance, watching your face as he pushed in slowly. Deeper, deeper, until you were full, your back arching off the bed. You both moaned.

“God, you’re so tight,” he breathed, forehead resting against yours. “Fucking perfect.”

He moved slowly at first, deep, deliberate thrusts that made your breath hitch. His name left your lips over and over like a prayer.

“Faster,” you gasped. “Don’t hold back.”

He didn’t. His pace snapped into something desperate. Hands gripping your hips. Skin slapping. Heat building. Sweat slicking your bodies together as he fucked you like he was trying to burn the memory into his bones.

You wrapped your legs around him, dragged your nails down his back, kissed him like you were starved. “Gonna cum,” he whispered against your ear. “Want you to cum with me.”

“I’m close,” you gasped.

He reached between you, rubbing tight circles over your clit, eyes never leaving yours. “Let go for me. Please.”

You shattered. Body convulsing. Hands clutching. Moans muffled in his neck as you pulsed around him. He followed instantly, cursing as he spilled inside you, thrusting deep once, twice, then collapsing over you with a shudder.

You lay there, tangled in limbs and breathless silence. Then he whispered, lips brushing your temple: “This time… I’m not walking away.”

You didn’t answer right away. But your fingers found his. Interlaced. And you didn’t let go.

The room was quiet. Not in a hollow, awkward way, more like the quiet after a long breath you didn’t realize you were holding. The window cracked slightly, early sun bleeding through cheap blinds and pooling on the guest bed sheets like honey.

You stirred first. Jungwon’s arm was slung across your waist, bare skin against bare skin. He was still asleep, lips parted, hair messy, lashes casting shadows under his eyes.

He looked… soft. You hated that you let your fingers reach up to trace the edge of his jaw. Hated it more that he leaned into the touch, even asleep.

“You’re staring,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

You stilled. “No, I’m not.”

He cracked one eye open. Smiled lazily. “You are.”

You tried to pull away, but he held you tighter. “Can we stay like this?” he asked, lips brushing your shoulder. “Just for a little while?”

“You’re not gonna run this time?”

He shook his head slowly. Serious now. “I ran for too long.”

Silence.

“I meant it, you know,” he said softly. “That night at the bar. I was drunk, but not that drunk. I knew exactly what I was saying.”

“You said you liked me.”

He nodded. “I still do. Always have.”

Your heart clenched. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“Because I didn’t know how to be honest with myself, let alone with you. And because if I fucked it up… I didn’t know if I could come back from it.”

You looked at him. “You still might.”

He smiled, sad and sincere. “But at least I’d rather try than keep wondering what we could’ve been.”

You looked away, suddenly shy. “So… what now?”

He tilted your chin to face him. “Now, we figure it out. Together.”

You didn’t leave the room until almost noon. Sunoo raised both brows when he saw you walk out in Jungwon’s shirt, your cheeks flushed, hair messy. He held up his coffee like a silent toast and said nothing.

Jungwon caught your hand when you tried to escape out the front door. “Come back to mine,” he murmured. “I’ll make you breakfast.”

“You can cook?”

“I can burn eggs, and I’ll look hot doing it.”

You laughed, a full and real. And you let him pull you toward the future neither of you were brave enough to imagine before now.

Jungwon’s apartment wasn’t what you expected. Smaller. Warmer. Lived-in in the quiet, careful way he always was. Shelves lined with dog-eared books, mismatched mugs, a vinyl player in the corner still mid-song. You slipped off your shoes at the door and suddenly felt like you were seventeen again, stepping into a boy’s world too carefully arranged to touch.

But this time, it was him who touched you first. He pressed you against the inside of the door before it even closed all the way. Hands under your thighs, lips at your throat, like he'd held back long enough.

“Still want me?” he murmured, voice low.

You nodded breathlessly. “Yeah.”

“Like this?” He pushed your back to the wall, ground his hips into you, his cock already hard through his jeans. You gasped, fingers clutching his shirt.

“Fuck, Jungwon—”

“Say it.”

“I want you. I still want you.”

He groaned like that undid him. He carried you— stumbled, really, to his bed. The sheets were messy from earlier. You didn’t care. He laid you down and peeled your clothes off like you were a gift he finally let himself unwrap.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this again,” he said, staring down at you, naked and aching for him.

“Then don’t make me wait,” you whispered.

He undressed quickly, jaw clenched, eyes never leaving yours. He was harder this time, rougher, more desperate, but every move was laced with reverence, like he still couldn’t believe you were here.

When he slid into you, he hissed through his teeth. “God, you feel like heaven.”

You moaned his name, head tilted back, nails digging into his arms as he rocked into you slow and deep.

“You’re mine,” he whispered against your skin. “You’ve always been mine.” He moved faster. The bed creaked. Your body sang. “Let me see you fall apart,” he said. “I want to watch you cum.”

He brought his fingers between your bodies, stroked tight, perfect circles over your clit. It didn’t take long.

“Jungwon—”

“Cum for me, baby. Let go.”

You shattered. Loud. Wild. Shameless. He followed right after, burying himself deep with a strangled groan, then collapsed over you, both of you panting, trembling, wrecked.

You lay there in silence. His fingers traced shapes on your stomach. Your eyes stayed on the ceiling.

Then you asked: “Why were you going to marry her?”

He stilled. “Because it made sense.”

“But it didn’t feel right?” You cautiously asked.

“Not once,” he admitted. “She was nice. Easy. But I couldn’t picture my life with her… not really.”

“But you still proposed.”

“I think I was trying to prove I’d moved on.”

You didn’t respond.

“The thing is,” he continued, “I kept picturing you when I imagined the future. Even when I tried not to. It was always your laugh. Your voice. Your name in my mouth.”

He looked at you then. “You ruined me for anyone else.”

You swallowed hard. “Good.”

He smiled. “You want to stay?”

You rolled over on top of him. “Only if you burn the eggs tomorrow.”

[goldenempyrean]

Hey there, I have a specific Nat request! Natasha and the reader both come down with a nasty case of the flu but are determined to join the rest of the team on a mission. However, Tony, known for his germaphobia, firmly refuses and quarantines them in their rooms for their own good. Left alone in the compound, Natasha and the reader care for each other and grow closer as they bond over their shared illness. When the team returns, they find Natasha and the reader fast asleep together on the sofa, having found comfort in each other's company during their time of need.

Stuck With Me

〚 Notes - I feel like I haven't written Nat in ages, I was meant to post this ages but never finished! Hopefully you enjoy :D 〛

〚 Pairing - Natasha Romanoff x Reader 〛

〚 Summary - You and Nat both get sick and can't go on a mission with the team. At least you can keep each other company 〛

〚 Wordcount - 2300 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

╚════════ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ════════╝

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. The team was buzzing with excitement as they prepared for the upcoming mission, the air thick with anticipation and purpose. Everyone was in high spirits, except for yourself and Natasha, who were huddled together in the corner of the briefing room, looking utterly miserable. 

A couple of days ago, the whole of the Avengers had been made to be some PR, and as such you and the rest of the team had spent the day interacting with the public. Everything had seemed fine at the time. Oh how that’d change. 

That morning, you had blinked slowly as you woke up and instantly regretted it. The first thing you registered was pressure, deep throbbing pressure nestled behind your sinuses snd temples. You rubbed your eyes and groaned quietly. This couldn’t be good. 

Beside you, Natasha stirred, you could hear her groan too followed by a deep, rough cough as she pushed herself to sit upright. She cleared her throat and looked down to you, her expression noticeably softening when she took in your flushed features. 

“You too?” She asked quietly, you could tell from her voice she wasn’t feeling well. Her tone was quieter, more reserved. Not to mention the thick congestion which blurred her words. 

You shivered and shuffled up to her, through the thin fabric of her shirt it was hard to miss how warm she felt and you let your head rest against her, “You’re warm.” You mumbled, pushing the back of your sleeve against your nose as you felt it run a little. 

"I think we caught something," Nat grumbled, her voice coming out raspy and sore. 

"No kidding," You mumbled hoarsely in agreement, “But from where?” 

She thought for a moment, eyes narrowing. "PR day. All those handshakes, the photos... people everywhere." She scrunched up her nose before she stifled a sneeze against the back of her hand,  "Did you get your flu jab?” She sniffled, the question popping into her mind. She’d been meaning to get hers but life was just busy and she hadn’t gotten round to it yet. 

Your eyes widened and you gave her a knowing look, “Oh shit.” 

“Oh shit indeed.” 

** 

If only this hadn’t happened today. Today, yourself, Nat and the rest of the avengers were meant to be setting off on a mission to Wakanda to assist in the ongoing vibranium crisis. It was to be an all hands on deck affair, every last pair of hands needed. 

So instead of curling in bed where you should’ve been, the two of you decided it would be better to drag yourselves down to the meeting room and sit through debriefing like absolutely nothing was wrong. 

You honestly don’t know how you’d thought that you’d somehow get away unnoticed. It was painfully obvious something was wrong. Natasha was as white as a ghost and couldn’t go more than a few minutes before giving into a liquid sniffle, all just to keep her nose from running. Just beside her, you were shivering, visibly and helplessly, all while you couldn’t stop beads of sweat from forming on your forehead.  

“Oh no, absolutely not.” Tony had almost yelped when he entered the room and caught sight of the pair of you, “These two are absolutely not coming anywhere near this mission.” 

You groaned inwardly. Of course, Tony would be the first to notice. He had an uncanny ability to pick up on things he didn’t like - germs being at the top of that list. 

Natasha didn’t haste to shoot him a glare, usually in any other circumstance this would’ve been enough to make him back off but the effect was ruined when her breath hitched and she immediately curled into her hoodie with a series of damp sneezes. 

Tony visibly flinched, his hand already reaching for a sanitiser bottle he seemed to have materialized out of thin air. He pointed toward the door. "Out. You two are quarantined," He decided firmly in a tone that read there was no room for argument. "There's no way I'm letting you infect the rest of us, especially me.” 

Steve and the others had arrived by this point and were murmuring agreement. Somewhere in between Steve trying to rationalise with an ever, stubborn Natasha and Tony shrieking about infection, Bruce had ran down to medical and grabbed a first aid kit. 

When he returned, he kneeled down and pulled out a thermometer from the box. “Alright, let’s see what we’re dealing with here.” He reached forward to take her temperature but she held a hand out to stop him from getting closer. 

“Wait.. I need to-“ Her eyes fluttered shut as she quickly turned to the side, burying her face into the crook of her elbow just as a series of harsh sneezes burst out of her, “Hh'kshhh! Hih'tshh! Heh’ktsch!" 

“Bless you.” You murmured softly. You tried to close your eyes to get some relief from the throbbing in your temples but you jumped a little at the feeling of a thermometer being rolled over your forehead. You had forgotten that Stark had insisted on buying the fancy kind. 

The device beeped its verdict and Bruce sighed, shaking his head in disapproval as he stood back up, “Nat 38.2, Y/N 38.5. In no way shape or form are either of you up for this. You’re both at serious risk of dehydration. You need to rest.”  

“Quarantine. Both of you.” Tony repeated though he’d noticeably taken a few large strides backwards. He pointed towards the door wrinkling his nose in disgust before looking up at the ceiling, “FRIDAY, disinfect the room after they leave. Use the strong stuff.” He exaggerated a shudder as Nat fell into a particularly rough coughing fit. 

“Scratch that, disinfect everything they’ve touched. I want this contained.” 

The system announced a “Yes, sir.” and you couldn’t help but groan in defeat. There was no way the two of you would be able to get out of the now and you shivered once more as you dragged yourself up out of the chair you’d being huddled in, pulling up Natasha to stand up next to you. 

Natasha looked like she wanted to argue, but the effort of coughing left her too exhausted to put up much of a fight. Her posture sagged slightly as she stood, clearly feeling every bit as lousy as you did. You gently nudged her, signaling it was time to go, and she gave a reluctant nod. Neither of you were thrilled with the idea of sitting out on such an important mission, but it was becoming increasingly clear there was no way around it. 

You caught Nat by the arm gently as she wobbled on her feet. Before the pair of you left, she shot Tony one more withering glare, though it had less of its usual sting. She stifled another sneeze into her elbow, her breath shaking as she sniffled miserably. Tony, ever the kind, sympathetic gentleman of course, took another step back, waving his hand in the air like he could physically push the germs away from himself 

“What are we meant to do now.” You mumbled after you’d left the room. When the others left you’d have the whole compound to yourself, usually in any other scenario the two of you would make good use of the alone time but there was no way either of you for feeling up for that. 

"I don't know," Natasha rasped, her voice was sounding a little worse from coughing, "Sleep, I guess." She sniffed again, her nose still red from the constant sneezing and rubbing. “Or we could stage a jailbreak. Sneak onto a jet before they leave.” 

You chuckled quietly then coughed and chuckled again, “Sorry love but if you think we’re gonna be able to sneak past them while coughing up a lung then you’re more feverish than we thought.” You reached out to rub her back when she started coughing again, “Besides I don’t think you’re up to flying, do you?” 

“Maybe not.” She rasped after catching her breath. The pair of you were just about to turn to make your way to your bedroom when you had a different idea. 

“How about we grab some blankets and cuddle up in one of the living rooms, grab some supplies and camp in there? That way we can watch some movies or something if you’re feeling up to it.” 

Natasha gave you a tired but grateful smile, her green eyes heavy with fatigue. "That... doesn't sound half bad," she admitted in a hoarse whisper, sniffling again as she rubbed at her nose with the back of her hand. "But if we're doing this I wanna rewatch the Star Wars movies.” 

You shot her a knowing grin, “My, my. Natasha Romanoff, the great Black Widow is a secret nerd. Who would’ve guessed?” That earned you a small nudge in reply and on the way, the two of you headed to a storage closet to grab  

as many blankets as you could carry without falling over whilst Nat grabbed a large box of tissues and headed off to get some medicine. 

You’d just settled down on the sofa of the common room when Nat shuffled in holding a bundle of things in her arms. Tissues, cough medicine, a thermometer, two hot water bottles and your matching water bottles.  

Originally, you had seen them being sold in a little shop whilst you were out one day. A clear, hard plastic bottle but with a little cartoon of the Black Widow on it. You’d bought it instantly and it had become the main bottle you’d use.  

Of course Natasha had blushed with embarrassment the first time she’d seen it but she couldn’t deny the action was adorable. So the next time she went out, she had gone out of her way to buy a matching bottle. This time one with a little cartoon of you in your fighting outfit. 

She set the supplies down on the coffee table in front of you before flopping down on the sofa next to you, immediately she regretted letting go of her hot water bottle and grabbed it, cradling it for a moment as she got warm before tucking it under her hoodie. 

“You need anything else?” She shook her head and you cleared your throat before reaching to pick up the remote to start the first movie before handing it to her as you remembered that you had no idea which order the movies went in. 

The corner of her mouth quirked a little as a smile played on her lips, “Episode IV, no prequels first.” She began to explain why it was so important even though it went right over your head anyway, “We watch in release order, we’re not heathens.” 

You nodded along, pretending to understand the logic of watching the Star Wars movies in release order, though to be honest, most of the reasoning had gone straight over your foggy, headache-riddled brain. She rambled on for a little, and you occasionally nodded to signify you were still listening until she eventually pressed play, and the familiar fanfare and iconic text crawl started to roll up the screen.  

For a moment, you both just sat there, quietly watching, the only sounds in the room the hum of the TV and the occasional sniffle from Nat. Her head slowly started to lean onto your shoulder, and without even thinking, you shifted slightly to let her rest more comfortably. The warmth from her hot water bottle radiated through her hoodie and into your side, a comforting presence. 

"You okay?" You murmured softly, glancing down at her. She looked exhausted, her eyes half-lidded as they flickered between the screen and you. 

"Mm-hmm," She mumbled, though her voice was so thick with congestion it came out as more of a hum. She snuggled in closer, her hand absentmindedly toying with the sleeve of your shirt. "This is perfect," She whispered hoarsely, her body sagging into yours with that telltale heaviness of someone about to drift off. She was perfectly still for a few minutes until you felt her chest rising suddenly as she sat up quickly and rubbed at her nose, “F-fuck I-” She tried to warn, luckily you knew what she needed but you still barely had time to pass her the tissues before she set off into a flurry of sneezes. 

“Bless you,” You replied softly after each one, watching as she blew her nose and gave you an apologetic look afterwards which made you respond with a gentle kiss to her forehead, “You can’t help it love, don’t worry.” 

The rest of the week was spent the same way, the two of you cuddled up on the sofa together. You’d hold her close when she was shivering and she’d periodically swap out a cloth to place on your forehead. Napping had become the biggest part of the day, the two of you sleeping with arms wrapped around each other. It had been during one of these naps when the team had finally arrived home. Clint had come clambering in, looking to kick back and watch some trashy TV after days of concentration but what he was met with instead was a huddle of blankets and two sniffly girlfriends tucked up in each other's arms. 

He couldn’t resist snapping a quick photo, one which he totally wouldn’t use for blackmail in the future. He smiled softly as he saw how relaxed the both of you looked and quietly tiptoed out of the room, closing the door softly and writing a note not to enter. There was no point waking the pair of you up, not when you both looked so peaceful. He’d simply wait to tease the pair of you when you were feeling better. 

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[ozzgin]

I went to take a nap and when I woke up I was dying because of a cold, so give me your cheapest and weirdest cold-curing tip/hack thingy

I'm afraid I don't have any fancy tips to help you with, as I personally just take the usual medicine (painkillers and decongestants).

If you want a funny story, back in college my best friend caught a cold that came with a sore throat. I hadn't gotten around to renewing my pill stash, so we googled for simple home remedies. I made her a cough syrup with boiled onion and honey (it was all we had). She gagged at the smell and insisted this is crazy, but still chugged down half her cup. Told me like an hour later it actually worked and she's much better. I felt like the village priest for the remainder of our cohabitation.

If you want bizarre traditional remedies that I had to put up with as a Romanian kid: my grandma would soak my socks in vinegar and make me wear them in bed for fever. She'd also dip some cotton balls in disinfectant and ask me to take a big sniff. To cleanse my sinuses, she would boil tea in a large bowl and make me sit above it with a towel blocking the steam from escaping - now this is actually pretty useful and my partner can confirm it's unpleasant but effective. Something I never did but was also a common belief was potatoes around your neck.

So, yeah, my go-to simple remedies outside of modern medicine: sleep and warm tea with lemon and honey. Steam baths or hot showers for stuffed nose.

[cowboyemeritus]

Can i request something sweet with aeth pleaseee. Maybe a ghoul reader and him cuddling. I’m telling you, i have 99 problems and laying on top of aether with my head on his belly would solve all of them 🥺

howdy! i feel you there - aether cuddles would fix me. here's a little something something in that vein. i've been sick recently, so this was on the brain lol. sorry it's short, but i hope you enjoy nonetheless. thanks for the request!

“This shouldn’t even be possible,” you mutter, throat burning like you’ve swallowed broken glass. “I thought we were immune to human germs.” Aether hums, his chest rumbling beneath your aching head. A large, warm hand comes up to stroke your hair.

“Normally, we have a good amount of resistance, but you’re new here, love. You’re still adjusting.” He gently scratches at your scalp with the tips of his claws, and you let out a pleasured groan. It triggers a fit of coughing that leaves you gasping for air, the muscles in your chest weak and sore from days of this misery. Aether, with a sympathetic hum, rubs soothing circles between your shoulder blades until it dies down.

“Or,” you wheeze, “Perpetua doesn’t know what he’s doing, and gave me a weak-ass vessel.” There’s snot threatening to run out of your nose and onto Aether’s shirt. You sniffle, trying to keep the deluge at bay, while your tail probes around blindly for the box of tissues that lies somewhere around your knees. The appendage is still stiff, difficult to maneuver, and so it takes a few attempts to grab it and bring it within reach. Blowing your nose causes the pressure in your sinuses to rapidly change, producing a sharp pain behind your eyes. “Fuck. Are you sure that guy is a member of the Bloodline?” The large ghoul snickers, cut off by a grunt when you flop back down on top of him.

“This’ll pass soon enough, stardust. I promise.” His fingers thread into your hair once more, the digits splayed around your newly-erupted horns. “Let’s see if…” Aether applies a little pressure, and your eyes nearly roll back in your head. The relief is instantaneous, washing over you like a tidal wave. “There we go.”

“More,” you groan, nudging the crown of your head into his touch. “Unholy shit.” Mercifully, he obliges, massaging the area around the bony protrusions while you wriggle like a worm on ecstasy, your tail unconsciously slapping against the bed until it finds and intertwines with his. You could cry, it’s so good.

“That’s it. Just relax.” It’s hard not to obey when he holds the key to your salvation. Like a sweater with a loose thread, his fingers pull the tension out of your body until you’re nothing but a pile of string, boneless and pliant. As your pain ebbs away, drowsiness sets in, tugging your eyelids shut. Aether is warm and firm beneath you, a reminder that, though your vessel is frail, you are free from the cold, unfeeling depths of the Pit at last. A contented purr rumbles in your chest as you finally slip under, safe and comforted.

[foundtherightwords]

A Knight's Cure for the Common Cold

Pairing: Hellcheer (EMT Chrissy x Medieval Reenactor Eddie)

Summary: The next chapter in the adventures of Eddie the medieval reenactor and Chrissy the EMT. Chrissy comes down with a bad cold, forcing her to cancel an important date with Eddie. To her surprise, Eddie shows up with an arm full of historical remedies, which may not work on her body but will certainly work on her heart.

Warning: mostly fluff, brief mention of blood

Word count: 4.3k

A/N: I wasn't going to use this prompt, "summer cold", for the Bingo Event with @hellcheeranniversaryweek, but then I read this cute sickfic by @waterfallsilverberrywrites about two characters who are historical reenactors. That reminds me of my "Knight Shift" one-shot, in which Eddie is also a medieval re-enactor. The prompt and the inspiration came together nicely, and here we are!

All recipes and remedies mentioned in the fic are real, btw.

Chrissy groaned as she opened the door to her apartment. She'd forgotten to open the windows that morning when she left for class, and now a wave of hot, stale air, like that inside an oven—an old one, which had not been thoroughly cleaned in a while—hit her right in the face. When it reached her stuffy nose, it sent a ripple of pressure across her sinuses and intensified her headache, making her feel like her head was going to explode.

Shuffling her feet inside, Chrissy went through the tiny one-bedroom apartment, opening all the windows and turning the fan on high, though it did little to disperse the heat. She dropped her bag on the couch and went into the kitchen, hoping some ice-cold juice would make her feel better. But the cool air inside the fridge made her shiver, and the orange juice hit her sore throat like a shot of vinegar. She winced and forced it down anyway, before returning to the couch and slumping into it.

If there was anything worse than having a cold in the summer, Chrissy didn't know it. In the winter, at least she could curl up under the blanket with a hot drink, and the runny nose and the scratchy throat wouldn't feel as bad. Now, her fever competed with the summer heat until she couldn't tell if she was hot or cold, the tip of her nose was tender and swollen from too much sniffling and blowing, and it felt like she was swallowing glass every time she ate or drank something. She had been battling the sniffles for two days now, and after two night shifts at the EMS station and a long day at the community college, where she was taking several courses to prepare for nursing school, it had turned into a full-blown cold.

At least it was her night off. If it hadn't been, she would have had to call in sick, and she hated to do that when the station was already so understaffed.  

The orange juice gurgled in her empty stomach, and Chrissy debated whether it was worth the effort to get up and find something to eat. Probably not. She closed her eyes and let herself doze off, not from sleepiness but rather mere exhaustion.

The phone rang.

Chrissy pressed a throw pillow over her ear, hoping it was just some stupid telemarketers. After five rings, whose shrillness was like a drill boring into her aching head, the answering machine picked up.

"Chrissy, it's me," Eddie's cheerful voice came on the line. "Just checking to see if we're still on for tonight. Call me back. Bye!"

Eddie... Oh, no.

Between work, classes, and the cold, it had completely slipped Chrissy's mind that she was supposed to meet Eddie that night. They had been going out for over four months, since that fateful night Chrissy responded to a call at the convenience store where Eddie worked and found him with a knife stuck in his back. Luckily, his chainmail—which he'd been wearing to prepare for a joust with his medieval reenactment group—had stopped the blade, and Chrissy had come away with one hell of a story, and a date.

Since then, both of them were so busy with work and school—Eddie was trying to get a teacher's certificate—that most of their dates had consisted of lunch and a matinee show at the movies or a quick dinner before the start of their shifts. That night, though, was to be a special occasion. After months of training and fighting, Eddie had finally earned an Award of Arms from the Society for Creative Anachronism. He had explained it to Chrissy, and even though she didn't fully grasp it, she knew it was an important step toward knighthood and that it meant a lot to him. He had invited her to the award ceremony, and they were going out to dinner afterward.

And she'd forgotten all about it! Curse this cold!

With a groan that was half from fatigue and half from irritation, Chrissy dragged herself up, went to the phone, and dialed Eddie's number.

"Eddie," she said when he picked up. "I'm sorry I didn't call sooner." It came out more like I'b soddy I dib't call sooder. "But I'm not going to make it tonight."

"Is everything OK?" Eddie's voice was tinged with concern.

Chrissy was quick to reassure him. "Everything's fine. I just have a cold."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure." As if to contradict her, her lungs chose that moment to rebel and sent a racking cough through her.

"That doesn't sound great," Eddie said. "Do you want me to come over?"

"No, no," Chrissy said as soon as she caught her breath. "I don't want you to miss the ceremony." She added, "I'm really sorry."

"Don't worry about it. We can celebrate any time. Just get plenty of rest, OK?"

"OK."

"I'll call you tomorrow."

Chrissy hung up, trying to ignore the guilt bubbling up inside her. Eddie had been so patient with her. They were taking things slow—very slow. Chrissy's previous relationship had ended in such a bad breakup that she was wary of jumping into something new, and it had taken her a month before she could kiss Eddie, and another month before she could invite him up to her apartment—only for a nightcap, not to stay, she wasn't ready for that yet. And Eddie had never once complained, never asked her to give their relationship a clear label or to take the next step. And even though he had readily told her everything about his family, about his mother, who died when Eddie was only six, and about his dad, who, in Eddie's senior year in high school, had dragged Eddie into a scheme that ended with a police officer getting shot, their house burned to the ground, and his dad in jail—Eddie himself would've ended up in jail as well, had it not been for a lenient judge—even though he had told her all that without a trace of shame, and introduced her to his uncle as well, he had never questioned why Chrissy rarely mentioned her own family or talked about her old life in the city. She wanted to do more for him, wanted to show him how much he meant to her, yet it never seemed enough.

She went back to the couch and dozed off again.

When she opened her eyes, it was dark, and her fever had returned, making her head, her joints, and her very skin ache. This time, her stomach refused to be ignored. So, putting all her strength into her legs, she went to the fridge and opened it again to see what was there to eat. Other than the juice and a carton of milk, the fridge was empty. There weren't even any eggs. Of course. Ever since her summer classes started, she'd been living on cereals and takeout, but the thought of cereals or Chinese food in her sore throat made her shudder. Besides, she had been breathing through her mouth so much that it'd gone completely dry, and any food would just taste like sand.

For a moment, Chrissy considered calling Joyce, her fellow EMT and the station's self-proclaimed "work mom", to see if Joyce could bring her something. But no. It was Joyce's night off too, and she would be spending it with her sons. Chrissy couldn't intrude on that.

In times like these, Chrissy almost missed her mom. Almost. Being sick was the only time Chrissy could count on her mom to be truly gentle with her, when her mom would take care of her without her usual criticism, and when Chrissy could eat anything she wanted without having her mom watching her every bite and reminding her to watch her figure.

It wasn't enough to make her consider moving back home though.

In a cupboard, Chrissy found a can of tomato soup. Well, it would have to do. She dug out her can opener and started working on the lid. But she couldn't get a purchase, and a moment later, the can opener clattered out of her hand in two pieces.

"Piece of shit," Chrissy mumbled under her breath. She found a butter knife, stabbed it into the lid with all the strength her aching muscles could muster up, and wriggled it round and round to pry the lid up.

The lid was almost open all the way when the knife slipped from Chrissy's sweaty fingers. The jagged edge of the half-opened lid sliced into her hand. The can slid from the kitchen counter and fell to the floor with a splat, tomato soup exploding everywhere.

Chrissy stared blankly at the puddle of tomato soup at her feet, unable to summon the strength to reach for the paper towels and clean it up. She was tired and sick and hungry and alone, and nothing mattered anymore.

Nudging the can out of the way, she sat down on the floor. When the effort of holding her head up became too much, she lay down next to the puddle and closed her eyes.

There was a knock on the door.

"Go away," Chrissy croaked.

Whoever was at the door must not have heard her, for they knocked again, louder. Chrissy didn't bother answering. She just lay there, listening to the buzz in her congested sinuses.

"Chrissy? Are you home?"

It was Eddie.

Shit. The last thing Chrissy wanted him to see was her looking like this, rotting into the floor, her hair a mess, her clothes splattered with tomato soup, and her face all puffy with snot running down it. Chrissy shut her eyes more tightly, like a little kid playing hide-and-seek, hoping Eddie would give up and go away.

But he didn't go away. After a moment of silence, there was a startled cry, and the door burst open, followed by the sound of running feet.

"Chrissy, wake up!" Eddie cried, shaking her.

Chrissy opened her eyes and let out a shriek.

Standing over was a giant bird. A giant black bird with a flat head, a huge beak, and round, glassy eyes, its wings spread as if ready to engulf her.

"It's me!" the bird said, removing his mask to reveal Eddie's face, his hair all tousled, his eyes wide with alarm. So it was no bird. It was merely a costume consisting of a long, dark coat, a wide-brimmed hat which gave his head that strange shape, and a bird mask.

"What happened?" Eddie continued. "Did you fall? Is that blood?"

Chrissy looked at herself. "This is blood," she said stupidly, raising her hand. Then she pointed at the spill. "That's tomato soup."

Eddie sat back with a sigh of relief. "Jesus Christ," he said. "When I looked through the window and saw you, I thought you'd had an accident. Why are you on the floor?"

Chrissy shrugged, not an easy thing to do while lying down. "I'm just tired. Why are you dressed as a bird?"

"It's not a bird. It's a plague doctor costume."

"A plague doctor?"

"Not because I think you had the plague or anything," Eddie quickly said. "I just thought it would be funny."

"Is it part of your reenactment?"

"No. The plague doctor costume is more of a seventeenth-century thing, so it doesn't quite fit the scope of SCA. I had to borrow it from my friend Gareth." He tossed the costume aside and helped her to her feet. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

He took Chrissy's hand to examine it, and then walked her into the bathroom, where he turned on the tap and ran her cut under it.

"You got a first aid kit?" he asked.

Wordlessly, Chrissy pointed to the cabinet by the mirror. Eddie took out rubbing alcohol and cleaned the cut. Chrissy hissed at the sting.

"Sorry," Eddie said softly.

"I can do that myself, you know," Chrissy said, nodding at the alcohol.

"You've spent enough time stitching people up," Eddie said. "Let someone else take care of you for once." He stuck a Band-Aid over the cut. "Now, why don't you change out of those stained clothes, and I'll deal with the kitchen, OK?"

Almost in a daze, Chrissy went into her bedroom to change. By the time she emerged in some clean pajamas, with her hair brushed and pulled back in its customary ponytail, the kitchen floor was shining like a mirror. Eddie had brought with him two grocery bags and was now taking things out of them—bread, eggs, bananas, chicken, and vegetables from one, and, rather strangely, a wooden box and a leather-bound book from the other. Seeing Chrissy, he quickly directed her to the couch, where he'd made a cozy little nest of blankets and pillows, and sat her down, before going back to the kitchen.

"Soup will be ready soon," he said, chopping up the chicken and vegetables and browning them in a pot.

"You cook?" Chrissy asked. It didn't seem real that a few minutes ago, she'd been ready to die on her kitchen floor, and now here was Eddie, cleaning up and cooking for her.

"I can cook a few things," Eddie said modestly.

Chrissy sat back on the couch. The evening air coming in through the windows had cooled the room down, and she could put the blanket around her without feeling like she was being boiled to death, yet it did nothing to ease her. If anything, she was even more uncomfortable at how attentive Eddie was.

"You've missed the ceremony," she said.

"It's no big deal," Eddie said with a shrug. "It's not like a knighting ceremony. It's just the herald reading out the award scrolls, and then everybody cheers, and maybe there will be some music and dancing after. I've called, they're going to mail me my scroll, so it's all good."

"But you've been looking forward to it." The guilt she'd felt after the phone call was now threatening to boil over. Not only was she a pathetic child who couldn't take care of herself, but she had to drag Eddie away from his commitments to wait on her hand and foot as well.  

"I don't mind, really," Eddie insisted. "And anyway"—he looked at her with a dimpled smile that never failed to make Chrissy's heart flip, no matter how many times she saw it—"what kind of knight would I be if I left my lady in distress?"

Her heart flipped again at the easy way he said my lady.

Eddie set the soup pot to simmer and crossed into the living room, bringing with him the wooden box and the book.

"Now," he said. "How are you feeling? Have you taken any medicine?"

Chrissy rubbed her head, which felt like it had been taken off her neck, resized, and then screwed back on wrong. "It's a virus. There's nothing I can do but wait for it to run its course."

"We'll see about that."

"What do you have in mind?" Chrissy asked, eyeing the box and the book warily. Was he planning to perform an exorcism? 

"Maybe we can try some medieval remedies," Eddie said, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"What kind of remedies?" The only thing she knew about medieval doctors was that they were very fond of blood-letting, either with a scalpel or leeches. Neither sounded good.  

"That depends on your symptoms." Eddie flipped through the book, which appeared to be a journal full of handwritten entries and recipes. "Is the cold in your chest or your throat? Or just the runny nose? Headache? Fever?"

Chrissy shrugged helplessly. "It's everything."

Eddie stopped at a page. "Hmm, the Salerno School's Regime of Health suggests this for a cold: 'Fast well and watch, eat hot your daily fare. Work some, and breathe a warm and humid air. Of drink be spare; your breath at time suspend. These things observe, if you your cold would end.' Kind of vague. It does recommend these herbs for headaches though—mallow, mint, sage, rue, and violet. But how to use them? In a tea? As an electuary?"

Chrissy had no idea what an electuary was, but there was something in the way Eddie frowned over the book that she found soothing. It was nice to have someone fuss over her.

"OK, here's something interesting from the Secreta Secretorum. It's sort of a medieval health manual," he added, seeing Chrissy's blank look. "It says 'to open the closures of the brain and amend the blood, rub thy head with some coarse linen or other thing that is hot and dry of complexion and sweet of smell.' Still kind of vague, but we have things 'sweet of smell' here, so maybe it's worth a try. Now for something 'hot and dry'... Wait, I think I got it."

Eddie picked up the plague doctor mask and turned it over to show Chrissy. "See how the beak is a sort of respirator? They would fill it with dried herbs and flowers to keep out the miasma that they thought caused the plague. I'm thinking we can do the same, but for your cold." 

The box turned out to be full of glass jars and vials containing all sorts of dried leaves and petals, a veritable apothecary. Eddie rumaged through them, added a handful of this and that to some clean paper towels, and wrapped them up, before soaking the whole thing in hot water. "That's hot and moist rather than hot and dry, but let's go with a mix of Salerno and Secreta, shall we?" he said. He then stuffed the wet package into the beak of the mask and lifted it to Chrissy's face. "Ready?"

At this point, Chrissy was already so miserable that she was willing to try anything, so she nodded. Carefully, Eddie tied the mask to her head. It was rather dark and claustrophobic inside, but to Chrissy's surprise, not as suffocating as she'd thought. Heated by the warm vapor of the paper towels, the dried herbs gave off a pleasant fragrance, and as she breathed it in, she could feel her nose getting clearer and her head lighter.

"How is it?" Eddie asked anxiously.

Chrissy couldn't speak because her mouth was covered by the mask, so she gave him a thumbs-up. Through the eyeholes, she could see Eddie give a satisfied nod and pick up the book again. 

"Good," he said. "Now let's move on to your congestion and coughs. Here's a fifteenth-century recipe. 'Mix four parts stale ale, four parts mustard seed, and two or three ground nutmegs in a glass that fits your nose. Boil it in a pan of water, then place the pan under your nose.' Boiled stale beer and mustard? God, I don't think so. You can just go to any bar after hours and get a lungful of that for free."

Behind her mask, Chrissy giggled, but it came out as a fit of coughing instead. 

"That sounds like a wet cough," Eddie said. "How about this? It's from an eighteenth-century newspaper called Weekly Amusement: 'a plaster for a sore throat, made from melted mutton suet, rosin, and beeswax, spread on a cloth and tied from ear to ear'. Are we curing sore throats or making candles? Let's try something older... Here's a recipe from the seventeenth century, in Pharmacopeia Londinensis: 'lungs of a fox well dried, but not burned, is an admirable strengthener to the lungs.' You know what, I think that just might work."

Thinking she'd misheard him, Chrissy pulled the mask down and stared at him. "Fox lungs?!" she exclaimed.

"Dried, not burned," Eddie confirmed with a grin. "You don't happen to have a couple of those lying around, do you?"

Chrissy grinned back at him, some of the guilt she felt at making him miss the ceremony dissipating. She sniffed the air and was ecstatic to discover that she could smell again.

"Something smells really wonderful," she said.

"That'll be the soup."

Eddie went into the kitchen and came back a moment later with a bowl of steaming chicken soup. "Do you know that the Tudors suggested that chickens were best eaten in times of epidemic, because they thought it was the easiest meat to digest and could help to balance the humors of the body?" he said, handing her the bowl.

Chrissy was less interested in the eating habits of the Tudors and more in the soup. The first spoonful, with its hint of onion and ginger, sent a wave of warmth through her that was nothing like the aching heat of the fever. After the second spoon, sweat broke out over her forehead and ran down her back. She hardly noticed and kept eating.

Eddie got a towel from the bathroom and wiped down her face. He gently pressed the back of his hand against her cheek to check her temperature. "I think your fever's broken," he said.

Chrissy leaned into his hand, savoring his touch as much as she savored the soup. "Thank you," she said.

Eddie smiled. "If this knight thing doesn't work out, maybe I have a shot at being a healer. These medieval remedies actually work, who knew? Well, except for the fox lungs. But only because we didn't try it."

"Eddie!" Chrissy yelled. "Stop talking about fox lungs while I'm eating!"

She'd meant to chide him, but she couldn't help laughing. The laugh turned into a cough, and some soup dribbled out of her mouth, which made her laugh even more. She no longer cared about being presentable for Eddie. After all, what was the point of a relationship if she couldn't be a silly mess in front of him?

Eddie laughed too. He gave her more soup and ate some himself. Then, while he did the dishes, Chrissy dozed off again, only to stir awake when she found Eddie carrying her from the couch to the bed and tucking her in.

"Would you stay?" she asked.

In the dimness of the bedroom, Eddie's eyes were soft as he looked down at her. "Do you want me to stay?"

"Yes." Then the EMT in her added, conscientiously, "Maybe not in the same bed, though. I don't want you to get sick."

"That's OK. I'll sleep on the floor."

Chrissy showed him where she kept her extra sheets and gave him a new toothbrush. Eddie went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and casually stripped down to his T-shirt and boxers, as if he'd slept over a hundred times.

"What do you want for breakfast?" he asked, shaking the sheets out on the floor. "I can make a mean French toast."

"French toast sounds good," Chrissy said absently. A strange feeling was blossoming in her chest and spreading all through her as she watched Eddie, a warmth that was quite different from the warmth of the soup or even the warmth of his hand on her cheek. It almost felt like... like... "Eddie?" she called.

He looked up. "Yes?"

"I love you."

She couldn't tell which of them was more shocked by those three simple words, Eddie or herself. Eddie clutched the pillow to his chest and stared at her, mouth agape.

"Is that an 'I love you I love you', or an 'I love you for doing this for me'?" he asked.

Perhaps she was still feeling woozy from the fever, but Chrissy couldn't make head or tail of his question. "What?" she said dumbly.

"I mean, is it a general declaration, or just a temporary, of-the-moment kind?"

"It means I love you, OK?" Now that the most difficult part—the actual saying of the words out loud—was over, Chrissy no longer felt shy. If her heart was hammering in her chest and her hands were shaking, it had nothing to do with shyness. It was elation, elation at the absolute clarity of her feeling, and at how simple it all was. Eddie was still looking at her uncertainly, so she added, "I'm in love with you."

As it sank in for him, a smile broke out across Eddie's face, a smile of pure sunshine.

"Holy shit!" He clapped a hand to his mouth. "Sorry, didn't mean to swear. But you do? You are?"

Chrissy smiled back at him in exasperated fondness. "Yes. But please don't make me talk anymore, I'm so tired my voice is coming out of my ears—"

She didn't get to finish. Eddie dropped the pillow he was holding, leaped to the bed in one bound, took her face in his hands, and kissed her.

"Eddie!" Chrissy pushed at his chest. "I'm contagious!"

She tried to pull away, but he pulled her right back. "I don't care," he said. "It's worth it." He kissed her again, a deep, thorough kiss, and her mind went pleasantly blank.

It was a while before they finally drew apart.

"Now what?" Eddie said.

Chrissy's fingers curled into his shirt. "Well, we've already kissed, so you might as well stay in bed."

"You sure?"

"Yes." At that moment, the thought of being apart from him, even just a few inches away, was unbearable to her. "And if you do get sick, I'll get a chance to take care of you."

Eddie laughed. "OK, Miss EMT." He settled down and tucked her against him, wrapping his arms around her. "Now sleep," he said, dropping another kiss on the top of her head. "You'll feel better in the morning."

Chrissy smiled up at him. "I feel better already."

Quietness fell upon the room then, a gentle and restful quietness that even the sound of their breathing, Chrissy's occasional sniffle, and the soft whirring of the fan couldn't break.

It was broken, a moment later, by Eddie's voice. "Chrissy?"

"Hmm?"

"If I do get sick, promise not to use the dried fox lungs, OK?"

"... No dried fox lungs, got it."

"I love you too."

Chrissy nuzzled into his chest with a happy sigh, and slept.

THE END

[becomingkatie]

I’m gonna complain about my day.

I leave this weekend to go to my mom’s for a week to take her to her chemo appointment and help her afterwards, but my car registration expires this month and I can’t renew it without an emissions inspection. The last time I renewed, I went to the gas station near my house and it was fairly quick. I figured it would be the same since it’s not the last week of the month yet so people aren’t freaking out. The line was soooo long.

After 45 minutes and no movement, I went to a different service station 10 minutes from home. The line was long but at least it was moving. In the end, I got the emissions inspection and left just about 2 hours after I left home.

Turned to leave the shopping center and realized I could only turn right and had to turn around up ahead. The green arrow was already green as I approached so I was like “can I do a U turn here?” and looked for signs but it was just a quick look since the light was already green. I looked up by the light and there was no sign, but I didn’t see the one on the pole lower to the ground. I wasn’t even all the way around the bend when a motorcycle cop sped over and blipped his siren at me.

So now I’ve got a fine and points on my license (first ticket ever) for making an illegal U turn I tried to check the legality of but didn’t do a good enough job, after waiting for two hours for my inspection.

Also I am sick. My throat is sore and my sinuses feel like they’re about to burst and I’m gargling salt water like a maniac trying to kick it so I can go be around my immunocompromised mom to help her with her chemo.

And then doc is like “yep it’s a lump, go get an ultrasound!”

So I call the number on the form they gave me. The obgyn is part of inova so that’s the number they gave me. Inova only does breast ultrasounds out of one facility nowhere near where I live, and the soonest they could schedule me for is late October. The scheduler said “we don’t have a cancellations list or anything to call you if something opens up but you can call every morning to see if there are cancellations for that day.” I do not want to call every day for three months and I do not want to wait three months and I do not want to drive to that center at all!

So I called the radiology center five minutes from my house that isn’t inova and they can schedule me for next week (I’m out of town helping mom but they have lots of openings the week after, too) except they won’t do an ultrasound without a mammogram so I have to get my doctor to change the order. All of this was happening immediately after I got home from my appointment, yet by the time I got through with the second place and called to ask if the doctor will order the mammogram so I can go to the convenient place sooner, she was gone for the day and isn’t working tomorrow.

SO I have to call Monday except that’s when I’ll be taking mom to her infusion and spending the day with her, and I’m not telling her any of this because she doesn’t need to be worrying about cancer I probably don’t even have, so I’ll be sneaking off to call the doctor without her hearing and it’s all just deeply inconvenient and frustrating.

[moody-alcoholic]

Special Delivery Service

Chapter 10 - The Bomb

Summary: Simon x Reader, 4.1k words. The aftermath of a terrorist attack that has injured your brother who is now fighting for his life in hospital. 141 are asked to come back to active duty to chase down those responsible and you're stuck in the middle.

CW: +18 MDNI, explicit content. Mentions of fictional terrorist attack, terrorism, medical stuff, medical inaccuracies, descriptions of injures, mentions of brain death, mourning, death, bedside vigils, angst, lots of hurt/ comfort, military inaccuracies, bombs, use of weapons, kissing, attempt to use sex as a distraction.

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Enjoy <3

You don’t remember much about the flight back to the UK. It was when you got to Heathrow airport you started paying attention to what was going on. Your mother had messaged you what hospital your brother was being transported too. She hadn't told you much else. 

“Let’s get home.” Simon says coming up behind you.

“I want to see my brother.” You say your eyes puffy from tears. Your head sore, apparently flying with blocked sinuses from crying was not a good idea. You’re ears haven’t popped yet, not that you really care. All you care about is seeing your brother. You look up at Simon as he runs his fingers through is hair. You’re pretty sure the last place he wants you to be is central London.  

“Soap!” Simon calls and Johnny comes skipping over. 

“Take her to the hospital stay with her till I get back.” Johnny raises an eyebrow but nods anyway. You don’t want to argue with Simon you don’t have the energy. You follow Johnny looking behind you to see Simon walk back towards John. Johnny tries to make conversation with you you don’t listen. When he asks you questions you just grunt in reply. He pulls the car up at the drop off zone outside the main entrance of the hospital. There are media everywhere.

“You don’t have to stay.” You say to Johnny as you step out the car. 

“It’s not a problem lass, I’ll park up and meet you in there.” He says. You nod at him closing the door. You make your way through to the main entrance checking your phone for the ward. It’s busy there is a meeting set up for new people to come and see if their loved ones have survived. You walk over to the lift. 

“Hey!” Someone calls over to you. You turn to see an older looking woman wearing a red cross vest. “Sorry no one is allowed through, are you staff?” You freeze almost saying yes, but you shake your head instead. She walks over to you with a clipboard. 

“Do you have a name?” You look at the woman wide eyed feeling tears threatening to spill again. Your mouth is just hanging open. You look round at the crowd of people looking over the table being manned by other red cross volunteers.

You don’t know what to say as you back away from her clutching your phone. You stand there wrapping your arms around your body, feeling a chill in the air. You want to get to him you have the ward and room he’s in you just want to get there. You don’t want to be round all these people. You feel Johnny come up behind you he makes you jump placing his hands on your shoulders.

“You okay lass?” He asks. You turn to see him. 

“They won’t let me through.” You say your voice catching in your throat. Johnny looks past you patting his jacket. 

“C’mon.” He says taking something out and grabbing your wrist pulling you over to the lifts. 

“Hey! I’m sorry.” The same red cross lady from before runs over. Johnny shows her whatever he pulled out his pocket. 

“We’re allowed through.” He says his voice filled with authority. It makes you stop in your tracks. 

“I’m sorry sir, I think all the army is meeting downstairs.” She says. 

“I know but we’re needed elsewhere.” He says dragging you over to call for a lift. 

“Army?” You ask bewildered. He passes you the card. You see it says captain John Price. A smile creeps on your lips.  

“Nicked it from Price when we quit.” He says leading you into a lift. You press the button to the right floor handing the card back to Johnny. You follow the signs to the ICU, the whole place is busy. It’s a hospital but it feels busier then usual.

You walk into the ward looking in each cubical for your brother. You see your mum first. Sitting next to his bed holding his hand. You rush in wrapping your arms around her as she sobs. Johnny stayed stood in the entrance of the cubical.

Things went back into a blur. You listened to what your mum was saying even though you didn’t understand anything. He has burns to his face and arms, he was close to the blast from what your mother was telling you. You pull a chair up on the other side of the bed and gripped his hand, his bandage wrapped hand. You look up at his face. He's pale with tubes and wires sticking out his throat and body.

It's your little brother, he looks younger for some reason, his hair is shorter then you remember. It's a Friday night, he was probably going out with friends from uni. Now he's in a hospital bed fighting for his life. The tears come thick and fast, you try not to make a sound not wanting to set your mother off. You scoot your chair up to his face and whisper in his ear. 

"I love you Dylan, you're going to be okay." You squeeze his hand. You try so hard to believe it, he's going to be okay, he's going to make it. 

 ——————————  

You wake to Simon, laying his hand on your shoulder. You snap up turning to look at him. Your mother is gone. You can’t tell if anything has changed the machines are still beeping. 

“Where’s my mum?” You ask. 

“She left a bit ago.” Simon says. You feel drained looking over at your brother. Simon sits next to you. 

“What time is it?” You ask, it was late when you arrived here. There are no windows on the ward. 

“Don’t worry about that, you need to rest, let me take you home.” Simon says his hand resting on your thigh. 

“I want to stay.” You say gripping your brothers hand. You’re too tired to cry too worried to care. You look up at your brothers face. You can’t tell if he looks better or not. The nurses come in now and again to change his dressings. They don’t give you updates, when you ask they say the doctor will meet with you soon.

Your mum will have gone home to feed the cats, get some things from Dylan's room. You feel bad you should be doing something other then sitting here holding his hand hoping he’ll wake up. What is he even going to look like with all the burns he has. 

“At least let me get you something to eat.” Simon says you turn to look at him as he squeezes your thigh. You don’t want to eat you don’t want to do anything. You nod though hoping it will make him happy. He leans over and kisses your cheek getting up off the chair and leaving the room.

You want him to stay, it was nice having him by your side. You look back up at your brother stroking his hand. There is a knock at the door and your name is called you look up to see what you assume is a doctor, you nod at him. He’s holing a clipboard in his hands.

“I’m doctor Stuart the intensive care consultant. I was wondering if we could have a word.” He says, he has that look on his face, the one like he’s about to spill the worst news ever. You nod and he pulls the chair up next to you. 

“I spoke to your mum this morning before she went home. Your brother is unfortunately very sick.” He has kind eyes, tired eyes he reminds you of John. 

“We were waiting for the results to come through from his second MRI, and there has been some bleeding in his brain.” He continues pausing to make sure you’re following. You swallow hard feeling sick. 

“We believe that the injuries he sustained from the blast were unfortunately fatal. I am very sorry but we cannot detect any brain activity.” He says. You don’t believe him, you brother just looks like he’s sleeping. You can see his chest rising and falling, he’s breathing. 

“What does that mean?” You ask. 

“It means that we don’t think he’s ever going to wake up.” The doctor says, you look down at the clipboard in his hands. He pulls an envelope off. 

“There’s a chance he could wake up right? I’ve seen it in the news before. Someone they thought would never wake up, wakes up.” You say squeezing your brothers hand. He’s still warm, there is still blood pumping through his body he’s alive.

“I’m sorry but we don’t believe there is a chance he could wake up, he sustained life threatening injuries form the explosion. He had lost a lot of blood and unfortunately his brain was without oxygen for a significant amount of time.” The doctor explains calm and slow looking in your eyes making sure you understand. You don’t understand though. 

“We have to discus how you would like treatment to continue if you choose to do that. Other wise we can discus the processes of removing the vent that is keeping him breathing.” 

“You should speak to my mum.” You say sniffing. 

“He has declared you medical power of attorney.” The doctor says handing you the envelope. You frown opening the letter, it’s your brothers will. There it is in black and white. 

‘Should the time come that it is necessary for decisions to be made regarding the continuation of treatment in the case of brain death. I give full and complete responsibility to my sister..’  

You stop reading you feel the pit come back in your stomach. 

“I can give you some time to think, there are nurses around if you have any questions. Would you like the chaplain to come and see you?” He asks as you squeeze the letter in your hands. You’re not religious, nether is your brother, your mum would want them to come though. You nod. 

“I will be back for ward round tomorrow but in the mean time if you have any questions please do not hesitate to ask.” You hear him get up. There’s tears again, your eyes are raw your head thumping. The next noise you hear is Simon coming back. He’s bought a sandwich and some water. You can’t stomach that now.

“What’s wrong?” He asks sitting down in the chair the doctor occupied a few minutes earlier. You pass him the letter. 

“They say it’s brain death.” Is all you manage before you’re sobbing in your hands again. Simon’s arms wrap round you pulling you up to his chest. He kisses your head shushing you. You’re exhausted and now you need to make the decision to kill your brother or not.

You mind goes back to thinking about Paris, the people who broke into the rental house, were they involved in this. You should have killed them. Then maybe your brother would be okay. Your little brother who had done no wrong in the world. You feel anger build up inside you. You were in the same room as the people who did this to him. 

“Simon.” You say sniffing in his chest. 

“Yeah.” He says rubbing your back.

“The people who did this you’re going to get them right?” You say through sobs. 

“‘Cause we are.” He says. You don’t know if you believe it or not but it's what you need to hear. You close your eyes breathing him in, he smells of cigarettes. 

 ——————————  

It’s raining as Ghost steps out the back of the army truck. So much for being retired, Price was having to fight off calls as soon as they landed in the UK. He knew staying in reserves was a bad idea. Now they had some general breathing down their necks, making sure they did a good job. 

“Captain!” Someone shouts. Ghost looks over to see a police officer walking over. Price comes to stand next to Ghost holding his hand out for the officer. 

“We heard there would be a specialist team coming.” He says introducing himself and shaking price’s hand. Everyone follow’s him as he explain what happened during the raid. They had intel this house was one of many safe houses the terrorists were using only when they raided it they found bomb making facilities. 

“I’m surprised the whole street hasn’t gone up yet.” The officer says scoffing as he leads everyone inside. It looks like a normal house from the outside but the whole place has been turned on it’s head inside. Tables and drapes, the whole place stinks of plastic explosives, fuel and gunpowder. It’s not a house it’s a factory. 

“Have you evacuated the street?” Price asks the officer. 

“A two street radius.” The officer confirms. 

“Gaz lets clear the top floors, Soap let’s get this place secure, stick with him LT. You should clear your officers out of here, let us work.” Price says. Soap pushes past Ghost going over to a table of devices poking at them with wire cutters. Ghost hears the officer protest, something about securing evidence. 

“Can’t secure anything if you’re dead.” Price says, it makes Ghost smile. The officer relents and orders the officers mulling around the place taking photos to leave. Price nods at Ghost as he heads up the stairs with Gaz. 

“How’s she doing?” Soap asks as he walks over to a table. 

“Focus on the job Soap.” Ghost replies, he’s not in the mood to talk about you. 

“I’m sorry about her brother.” He says looking up at him. Ghost crosses his arms. He can’t worry about you now, he’s got a job to do. 

“This place is a mess.” Soap says as he looks over the tables covered in wires and what looks like work in progress IED’s. There are vests with plastic explosives already shoved in them. It doesn't look like anything is finished though all work in progress. Ghost besides to walk round the room in the other direction.

He comes to a table with papers and a computer, he starts thumbing through them as he looks for anything important. A lot of it is in Arabic, his speaking Arabic is rusty enough never mind his reading skills. He looks for anything that sticks out. There is a map of the London underground with a highlighted route, and an X. He recognises it as the station that was bombed. 50 people were killed, the number of injured keeps increasing. It’ll be 51 soon. He shakes his head pushing the thought away. 

“Got a live one here Soap.” Gaz’s voice comes though his earpiece. 

“Copy.” Soap replies heading for the staircase. Ghost stays on the lower floor checking through the rest of the documents. The police will take all this, or more likely MI5 will. They would know what everything says eventually as soon as they’ve been translated. He looks up as Price comes down the steps.

“They’ll finish clearing, only one room left.” He says, Ghost nods. Suddenly there’s a muffled crashing noise. Ghost’s hands grip his weapon bringing it up his body twisting in the direction of the noise.

Price is by his side as they make there way in that direction. The wall looks flush but the noise definitely came from behind it. Price steps forward lowing his weapon and pressing on the wall, it bends in oh-so-slightly. There’s something hidden back there. 

“Soap sitrep?” Ghost asks into his mic. 

“Disarmed, we’re finishing clearing the floor.” 

“Cancel that, both of you get down here.” Price says.

“Copy.” Soap says. It doesn’t take long before they’re standing next to Ghost. Price is still trying to find a way to get the secret entrance open. Gaz and Soap raise their weapons realising the situation.

“Gaz, keep our six clear.” Ghost says. There could be more hidden places the last thing they need is someone sneaking up behind them. Price presses on a part of the call and there is a click, the wall popping out slightly. Simon clicks the safety off his weapon, he hears Soap and Price so the same. Price looks back nodding at them, they nod back. Ghost holds his breath as Price pulls the door open.

There’s two people, unarmed, a man and a woman. Next comes the shouting, the shoving ‘hands in the air!” Get down on the floor!’ The sound of zip ties, Ghost keeps his weapon trained on them as Price and Soap pull their hands behind their backs. It’s all too familiar, although this feels strangely personal now. These could be the very people responsible for the attack. Ghost switches with Price as he calls the officers back to arrest them. 

“We thought the house had been abandoned, we knew they would be tipped off.” The officer in charge says as SWAT rush into the building. He seems happy they have someone they can question now. Ghost is surprised they found any one, any one alive at least.

Price looks over at him, he knows that look. If this was a different circumstance they would be the ones to do the questioning not the Met. He comes over putting his hand on Ghost’s shoulder, squeezing it. He must be able to see something, Price is good at reading his expression through the mask, Ghost blinks at him. 

“Lets sweep the place again!” Price calls moving his hand, turning to the officers. Ghost watches as the people are lead out the house. He clicks the safely back on his weapon, he’ll get his chance. He knows he will. 

 ——————————

You’ve lost track of time, it was dark when you made it to the hospital and it’s dark when you leave. Simon said he had to work at some point. You still had the letter you hadn’t been able to bring yourself to telling your mum about it. You would need to though at some point they would need an answer. He is taking up a bed in ICU after all.

You don’t want to make the decision. You understood it though. If it was your mums decision, she would choose to continue treatment, have him moved to one of those hospices that care for people in his situation. She would never be able to do it, it makes sense Dylan is her son, no mother should ever have to make this choice.

Dylan knew that, that’s why he left it to you, he hoped you would be able to make the horrible choice. You got a taxi back to your place, you wanted to change at least. Get into something more comfortable to stay at the hospital in. When you walk into your flat you almost jump at the sight of Simon popping his head out the kitchen. You drop your keys shutting the door behind you. 

“I’m sorry.” He says coming over to you. “I thought I would do some cleaning in case you decided to come back.” You nod as he picks your keys up. You wrap your arms around him. He smells clean, a hint of fuel. His arms wrap round your back as you breathe him in. You don’t want to cry again you can’t. Maybe you can just forget about your brother for a few minutes, you need a distraction.

You break away a little looking up at him planting your lips on his. You kiss him hard, wet and sloppy, too much tongue, not a normal kiss. Anything to quiet your mind, focus on something else. You push your hands up his top, feeling each muscle and scar, your nails digging into his skin. He tries to say something but you kiss him harder forcing him to pull his head up as you stand up on your toes. 

“Baby-” He tries to says between kissing. You shake your head trying to stop him, forcing your tongue deeper in his mouth. It’s not working you need something more, more touching. The uncomfortable touching that makes you shake, at least it will be a distraction from everything going on. You need something else to be on your mind then your soon-to-be dead brother in the hospital.

You pull your hands off him reaching round and grabbing his wrists, forcing his hands up your shirt. His hands brush your breasts and it makes you shiver. A pit of fear pooling in your stomach. That’s what you need, your heart starts racing. You’re not thinking you fall into the familiar feeling letting it overpower you.

You haven’t even registered the fact that Simon’s hands have left your body as he pulls away from the kiss, moving his mouth away so you can’t reach him. You look up at him feeling hot tears fall down your cheeks. He looks sad, his hand comes to your cheek brushing the tear away. It hurts, your eyes and cheeks still raw from crying. 

“I-I can’t.” You say, you don’t know what to say. 

“I know, I know baby.” He says holding you away from him. He bends down kissing you softly on the lips. 

“You’re grieving, you’re exhausted.” He says as a matter of fact, his voice low. You look up at him all you can do is nod. 

“How about a shower and then some sleep.” He says waiting for your reaction. 

“I need to be with him.” You say your voice catching in your throat.

“You need to rest, you’re no good to anyone like this.” He says, you know he’s right but you don’t care. You don’t want to sleep, you don’t want to have to wake up and face it all. You close your eyes taking a breath. 

“Stay.” You say to him opening your eyes. 

“‘Cause, I’ll stay,” he says pulling you back into his arms. Things happen in slow motion, or at least that’s what it feels like. Simon brings you some PJ’s and you go for a shower while he says he will cook you something. You take a long time in the shower, a hot shower letting the hot water burn your back. Your mind fixates on your brothers burns, his face and arm covered in them.

It’s Simon knocking on the door that drags you back into reality. You get out the shower drying yourself off and changing. When you walk out the bathroom Simon leads you over to the kitchen table. You see a bowl of soup on the table. He must have been shopping there’s fresh bread too. You’re not hungry but you sit down anyway, if just to make him happy. You didn’t eat the sandwich he bought you at the hospital giving it to your mum instead, reminding her of the importance of eating. You watch as he cuts some bread up for you.

“Come on, a few spoons at least.” He says. You reach out taking the bread and dipping it in the soup, cream of tomato. It makes you think of being sick as a kid. You nibble on the bread, as soon as you’ve had one mouthful your stomach grumbles and you realised how hungry you actually are. Simon stays by your side rubbing your back as you sip on the soup nibbling on clumps of bread.

You’re only halfway through though when you feel full. Simon sighs but accepts it, at least you’ve eaten something. He kisses you on the forehead finishing off the rest as you sit in silence. When he’s done he takes you to bed. You’re not tired you just feel numb you lay down and he gets in behind you wrapping his arms and legs around you. He’s warm and you can feel his heart beating as his chest presses up against your back. It feels good being in his arms, it feels safe and right. 

“Simon?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Is it okay if I call you my boyfriend?” You ask relaxing into him. 

“Of course.” He replies kissing your head. You can feel the smile as he squeezes you. 

“I love you.” You say closing your eyes. 

“I love you too, get some sleep, I’ll be here.” He says breathing into your neck. You feel him leave little kisses, his hand stroking your arm. You try to relax matching your breathing with his, despite you not feeling tired it doesn’t take you long before you’re asleep.  

When you wake it’s light out, Simon is softly snoring behind you. You turn in the bed so you’re facing him which causes him to wake.

He blinks slowly waking up his hand coming up to stroke your face. You don’t say anything you just look at him, soaking in his face. His hand is soft on your cheek the pressure is nice. It makes you smile, it feels like the first smile in days. For a few blissful moments you’re not thinking about your brother, or the hospital, or the fact that he’s going to die today. You’re just enjoying a few moments with your boyfriend. He smiles back at you and leans in planting a kiss on your lips. Then the moment is gone and you remember what you have to do. 

“My brother’s going to die today.” You say. He nods, his hand still brushing your cheek. 

“I want you to be there.” You say, you need him to be there, you need his support. 

“I will, whatever you need I’ll be there.” He says. You nod reaching over and kissing him on the lips. You watch him for a second trying to read his expression, his beautiful caramel eyes glowing in the sunlight. You wish you didn’t have to do this you wish you could stay here forever. Instead you force yourself to turn away and get out of bed.

Next

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[freefallen-snx]

Emmmmm 😈😈😈 I saw your post about the ask game and got EXCITEDDD ✨✨

Would love to read 🌋🪶🫂 for Ren (or any of your lovely OCs 🤩) if one of those prompts strikes your fancy ☺️ or if you want to combine some of them! No pressure of course ❤️

SCATTERRRR~

this ask is like a million years (okay a month) old and i am sorry it has taken me so long to get around to this but FINALLY I COME BEARING GIFTS.

i saw your prompts and got so excited~ you always come up with the BEST stuff and it's always a pleasure to receive prompts from you ^^

i deliberated about whether to merge all three prompts into one fic or do them separately, but i finally decided on splitting them into two fics. this is the first one and i will post the next one with the other two prompts in the next day or so! fret not, for it is coming haha!

thank you again my love for such amazing prompts! i hope these are something like what you were after and that you (and anyone else reading :3) enjoys!

~~

🫂 – Sneezy Friendship

Details: 5.1k words, male sneezing/illness, no pairing but light, suggested M/M flirting if you squint super hard haha. Also some light mentions of mess.

Summary:  Having moved to the city from a countryside farm, Ren is out on his own for the first time. Not only is his hometown warmer and safer, but he has always been surrounded by people. Now alone, he comes down with a terrible cold while on shift at the local bar. His supervisor, a not-so-unattractive singleton, takes it upon himself to be the one to offer Ren the care and companionship he desperately needs.

***

It started with a sneeze.

That’s how it usually starts, right? Just one single sneeze, nothing particularly noteworthy about it, coming out of seemingly nowhere before being long forgotten.

Until one single sneeze becomes two. Then three. Then too many to keep count of before it develops into something decidedly noteworthy. The sneezes pave the way for a sore throat, a stuffy nose, a constant headache, and a chill in the bones that no amount of blankets or layering of clothing can thaw.

It was easy to blame the weather at first. Ren had spent his entire life in a much milder climate, out in the countryside where summers scorched and winters were wet and mild. He watched as the snow fell in thick clumps outside of his window and settle on the city streets below, lamenting all the times he complained about the weather back home. He now realised that his complaints were entirely unjustified and even made him miss the dredgery of the winters back home. 

It had only been a month or so since he had relocated his entire life to the big city. It was the usual tale; there just wasn’t work or money back home any more. He’d already secured an apartment and a stable job in that short time, which was more than he had achieved in over 12 months back home. It was simple bar work, but it paid him enough to get by. Sure, the hours weren’t great but it suited his social personality. He actually found himself enjoying the work more than he expected. He actively looked forward to going into work, wondering what fascinating characters and interesting anecdotes he would face that shift.

Though as he buttoned up his shirt for the late-shift, he had to admit that this was one shift that he was actively not looking forward to. He was starting to come down with a cold, that he knew for a fact, and he wanted nothing more than to curl up in a mound of blankets, sip hot tea and doze while watching trash reality TV. His head felt fuzzy, his eyes heavy, his sinuses throbbed, and his nose... his nose was just constantly -

“h’EEIISSHH’uh!!”

- sneezing. It had all started with a single sneeze, but now that particular symptom was loathe to stop. Ren would be lying if he hadn’t already considered calling out of his shift, but it was a Friday night and they were already short-staffed; it seemed this bug was making its rounds, having already conquered three other staff members. And no way was Ren going to leave them in the shit, regardless of how lousy he truly felt. 

It did help that he was on shift with his favourite co-worker. Sly was the kind of person who was just made for bar work; he was cute, outgoing, flirtatious, polite. Everything you could hope for and expect from someone in customer service. He was technically Ren’s supervisor but he never asserted himself as anything more than the other staff’s equal. Ren had taken a shine to him immediately, and it seemed that the feeling was mutual. Every shift with Sly was always filled with fun and banter.

So despite the sniffles, Ren finished his look with a spritz of cologne, grabbed his keys, and was out the door, praying that it would be a peaceful, quiet evening.

***

It would appear upon arrival that Ren’s prayers had not been answered. He hadn’t even set foot in the place and he could already see that people were queuing out the door. Every table in sight was occupied, people even standing around with their drinks after failing to find a seat. He sighed to himself, which rudely turned into a cough which was smothered into his elbow. He sniffled thickly as the artificial lights shone his face a sickly shade of white, hucking up his collar around his throat as he ventured inside the venue.

The warmth hit him immediately, making him shiver on impact. His nose rebelled against it, the heavy congestion seemingly melting temporarily and threatening to run past the shores of his nostrils. Sniffling reflexively, Ren made a beeline behind the bar, shrugging off his jacket just as Sly noticed him, the other man brightening immediately at what could only be described as his saviour.

“Ren!” he exclaimed, clasping a hand over Ren’s shoulder between pouring drinks. He looked frazzled, a line of patrons waiting across the bar as he dashed around to serve them solo. Ren’s hopes and dreams of a quiet night were dashed in an instant, and he quickened to get himself ready to be hurled into the thick of it headfirst, cold be damned. He patted Sly’s hand in return, giving the other man his most convincing smile, determined to make it through the night with as little disaster as possible.

“Man, am I glad to see you, buddy,” Sly remarked, taking payment from a customer as the cash register tinged open. “We’re in for one hell of a night!”

Having readied himself, Ren rolled up the sleeves of his black button-down in a we-mean-business sort of way, quirking a smile at Sly.

***

Sly really hadn’t been kidding; they were in for one hell of a night. 

Music was pumping, customers just kept piling in and the alcohol was flowing. The bar was fairly simple, modest, but hosted a colourful menu with some elaborate drinks. Sly loved to show off his mixology skills, throwing shakers up in the air and catching them behind his back before holding it way too far above the glass than was necessary while pouring. It always got the crowd going, making their wait in line slightly more tolerable when they had a show to watch. 

An hour or so had passed and Ren had all but forgotten about his cold; he was just too busy. When he felt his nose running, he would just give a snide rub against his shoulder and continue with what he was doing. He was so occupied that he didn’t even feel the need to sneeze even once during that first hour. 

Until, suddenly, he did. 

It came slow, torturous, like an ember glowing in the calm moments before it roared into flames. Ren was in the middle of pouring two drinks at once when the feeling first crept in, his hands truly occupied. A wave of panic overtook him, knowing he had no free hands, no tissues or napkins, no way of excusing himself into the back for even a second. He was stuck, well and truly, left with no other option than to fight against it. 

He tried. Boy, did he try, but this tickle was stubborn. He tried to sniffle, rubbed his nose up against his shoulder, pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, even held his breath, but it was all to no avail. The tickle just continued to spread, until his entire nose was filled with the sensation, fanning out from the inner recesses of his sinuses right down to the edges of his nostrils, pulsing uncomfortably. Knowing that it was coming, despite his insistence for it not to, Ren opted for a less demanding tactic: stifling. He had never been great at stifling, but it was the best option he could hope for at this juncture. Better than sneezing openly into drinks or across customers, anyway. Pausing mid-pour, Ren allowed his expression to fold just slightly, a brief haze of ticklish misery weakening his features, before he turned away and directed an attempted, smothered, “h’TGDSH’iuh!” into his shoulder. 

Not his finest, most graceful moment, but it was as contained as Ren could have hoped for. It was quiet enough over the thumping music to be mostly overlooked, but his current customer - a pretty little thing wearing mostly lace - offered a haughty, “Bless you!” loud enough to be heard over the cocophony of noise inside the bar. Ren offered a smile and a gentle apology, sniffling repeatedly as he handed over the drinks and took the payment, completing the transaction before moving onto the next person. 

It all seemed to go downhill from there. 

That one sneeze had apparently pissed Ren’s nose off, making it immediately stuffed so full that pressure throbbed behind his eyes, a constant droning pulse of congestion that thrummed with every beat of the music. It was heavy enough to weigh down his eyes, making him feel tired without necessarily needing sleep. To make matters worse, there was a constant feeling that his nose was about to drip, running persistently, but it was too stuffy for any kind of sniffling to be effective. Loathe as we was to wipe it against his shirt, there were few other options afforded to him at present. Sometimes the need outweighed the urge and Ren found himself scrubbing his nose against the hem of his shirt collar on instinct, barely even registering what he was doing until it was already done. 

And just to top it all off, there was the sneezing. 

This cold was relentless, brutal, nestled deep within Ren’s sinuses where it seemed to linger and just… simmer. The tickle was a dull permanence, ever-present and unreachable where no amount of rubbing would ebate it. Not even sneezing would completely rid Ren of the sensation, and that certainly wasn’t for lack of trying on his nose’s part. 

They were coming on faster and more frequently with each one. By the time they reached the last hour of the shift, there was a constant buzz in Ren’s nose which promised a sneeze was not too far away. The tickle had become so deep that stifling was no longer an option, and holding back was completely off the table. Whether Ren wanted them to or not, despite his best efforts, they came barrelling out of him in twos and threes, occasionally more. One noteable instance had him firing off a little fit of seven back-to-back with barely a chance to catch a breath in between. Even Sly noticed that one and gave a hearty laugh, a back slap and an exclaimed, “Bless you, damn!” from the other side of the bar. 

The minutes seemed to tick by slowly until finally, finally, it was time to shut the bar. Getting the customers out was an ordeal all by itself, but shortly after 1AM, the bar was empty save for the two bar staff. Ren had never taken so much pleasure in securing the deadbolts across the door, placing both hands firmly against the wood as if to keep anyone who dared to try and enter back. His head ducked down between his arms, a thick sniffle sounding louder than he would have liked across the now-silent room, and Ren cursed under his breath as he felt yet another sneeze begin to build. It was strong, potent enough to mist his eyes with a sheen of irritation, his nose crinkling up on one side as he braced for impact. Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long before it crested, and he allowed himself to fully indulge in it for the first time that evening. 

“h-..h-!.. H’EEISSHH’iuh!!” 

It was aimed down towards his feet, hands still bracing the door, completely unrestrained. It felt good to finally give in to the urges of his body without constraint, but allowing himself to do so came with a new set of problems. Ren could feel the slow, steady drip of something skirting down the inner length of his septum before it reached the edge of his nostril, threatening to spill out over the threshold. He was exhausted, dishevelled, past the point of caring about airs and graces, but he wasn’t about to let himself leak all over himself. He sniffled back what he could and allowed the back of his wrist to take care of the rest before forcing himself upright, sighing heavily through parted lips. 

With the adrenaline from the busy shift fading, Ren realised just how awful he truly felt. His head throbbed, his voice was raw, his throat shredded from continually shouting over the noise to be heard. There was an inner freeze combating an outer burn, his bones chilled while his skin blazed. He was glad the worst was over, but his heart sank when he turned around to discover the bar in disarray; plastic cups strewn across the floor, tables sticky from spilled drinks, empty glasses… they were everywhere. Ren was surveying the chaos when he heard a voice calling across the bar. 

“Hoo-wee!” Looking up, Ren saw Sly behind the bar, swiping sweat from his brow with his forearm as he clutched the drawer of a cash register with the other. He looked ruffled, hair a mess and shirt crumpled, but had a big grin on his face as he looked across at Ren. “We made it! That was crazy, right!?” 

Ren offered a weak smile and nodded, closing the gap between them to begin the endless task of cleaning up. The sooner they were done, the sooner he could get to bed, which was Ren’s primary focus at present. It was honestly the thought of crawling into a warm, soft bed with cool pillows caressing his face that got Ren through the clean-up. Given the chaotic state of the bar, it took longer than a usual closing shift, and it was almost 2AM before everything was tidied, cleaned, mopped and sanitised, ready to be opened again the following day. Hanging up the mop, Ren went to grab his jacket but paused when he heard the distinct tinkling of ice against glass. Spinning around, he saw Sly standing with a drink in hand, offering another out to Ren. He was already shaking his head in decline but before he could speak, Sly cut in. 

“Have a drink. You’ve earned it,” he said, voice softer than Ren was used to. Sly was usually so carefree, upbeat and thrumming with energy that it was strange to see him so calm. He was still offering out the drink, and didn’t show any signs of taking ‘no’ for an answer. He wobbled it side to side, clinking the ice, his smile widening. “On the house?” 

Huffing a soft laugh through his mouth, Ren took the glass. He couldn’t exactly refuse such a generous offer, after all, and pulled up a stool beside Sly at the bar. Slumping down and taking the weight off his feet for the first time in hours, Ren rested both arms across the bar and was just… still. Much as he wanted to get home, much as he felt like deep-fried garbage, he had to admit that this was nice. He had been alone since the move, not knowing a single person in this place, and could admit that loneliness was starting to take its toll. Having someone sitting beside him while they sipped drinks in comfortable silence was a thing he hadn’t realised he had missed. Or needed. He sniffled, his nose choosing that precise moment to betray him, as he felt the rising creep of another tickle slowly taking over. Luckily, he had a drink to shove against his lips to distract him and hopefully stop it dead in its tracks. 

“You know, I super appreciate tonight,” Sly said after a few beats of silence. Ren quirked a brow, confused, as the first dulled taste of his drink touched his lips. He realised exactly what it was as the warmth spread across his chest as he swallowed. Looking up, Ren’s eyes met Sly’s, which were soft and compassionate. “This ain’t an easy job on a regular day,” Sly continued, sipping at his own drink. He steadied Ren with a knowing look. “And it’s especially rough when ya caught a cold.” 

Ren cowed, as though being caught out, making an attempt at a subtle sniffle which came out loud, thick and wet. And honestly, he didn’t have the energy in him to muster much of a protest. 

“It’s not that bad,” Ren said quietly, his voice thick with congestion, taking another sip of the whiskey-honey-lemon mixture Sly had concocted just for him. It slid down his throat like liquid gold, soothing every raw nerve it touched as it went. Ren’s shoulders visibly slumped as he relaxed. 

“Whatever you say,” Sly replied, shrugging with both hands as he smiled to himself before motioning to Ren’s drink. “Get that down ya, though. It’ll help.” He grinned a wink in Ren’s direction. “Grandma’s home recipe, so you know it’s the good shit.” 

Ren huffed a breath of laughter, which came abruptly to a halt when it devolved into a cough, swiftly travelling up into his nose which tickled unforgivingly. Within the space of maybe three seconds, Ren had gone from laughing to hitching, his entire expression lifted briefly, nostrils fanning outwards as wide as they could reach, before he was stuck in a staccato duo of hitches, snapping suddenly to the side with a barely-contained, explosive sneeze. 

“h-h-H’EETSSCHH’iu!.. ugh..” 

It was just as messy as it sounded, keeping Ren with his nose tucked against his shoulder to hide his shame. The groan afterwards apparently told Sly all he needed to know, and Ren felt a tap against his other arm and didn’t even glance over to look. Instead, he just fumbled with his hand until he felt something soft and papery press into his palm. He took the tissue-napkin from Sly and immediately pinched it to his nose, mopping up as best he could to save at least some modicum of what lingered of his dignity. 

“Bless you,” Sly offered, his voice soft, quieter than Ren had ever heard. His nose was still buried in the tissue as he uttered a stuffy, “..tha’gk you,” when he felt something cool press against his brow. Under normal circumstances, he would have probably shrunk away from the touch, especially when he was in the middle of doing something as uncouth as blowing his nose, but the cold pressure against his warm skin felt too good for him to resist. His eyes closed briefly against it, unaware that he leaned forwards just a little as it was taken away from him, subconsciously chasing its comfort. 

“You don’t look so good,” Sly observed, keeping a watchful eye locked onto Ren as he finished tending to his nose and pocketed his tissue. There was no denying it; his skin was pale, his nose red, his eyes heavy-lidded and weighted, lips parted to breathe as nose-breathing was simply impossible against the metric-ton of congestion stacked up in there. Sitting back, Sly’s arms folded across his front, his brow furrowed into a slight frown. “And you’re burnin’ up.” 

There wasn’t really much that Ren could say. Sly was right on the money with everything, and denying it would just be outright lying. And Ren was a terrible liar. Not to mention that secretly, he was lowkey lapping up this sort of attention. He was alone out here, with nothing and no one to fuss over him, so having Sly looking out for him felt sort of special. Not that he would ever admit to such a thing. He was far too cool and collected for that. 

“Drink up,” Sly said, his voice back to its usual bright vibrancy as he snatched his tumbler off the bar. “I’ll take you home.” 

“N’do, it’s fide, I can-..” Ren started to protest but Sly waved a dismissive hand. 

“I insist,” he stated as a finality. He smiled towards Ren, genuinity reaching his eyes where they crinkled ever-so slightly at the corners. “Call it severence pay for working a full Friday shift in your condition.” 

The two men shared a soft moment of laughter, warmth permeating between them. This was the first time Ren had felt a true sense of belonging since his move to the big city, a closeness forming between him and his supervisor as they sat and finished what remained of their drinks in relative silence. The only sounds between them were the damp sniffles from Ren and the occasional sneeze he fired off into his arm. 

Once finished and cleaned up, the two of them grabbed their things and made their way to the back entrance, Sly flipping off every switch along the way, sinking the bar into complete darkness. It was only once they made it to the back door that they realised a serious problem… 

The snow had been falling thick and fast the entire evening, but neither had noticed just how thick or how fast. It had settled on the ground, reaching way above their knees and was continuing to fall as they stood and watched. Snowflakes dappled Ren’s lashes, melting on impact against the warmth of his skin, one of them landing delicately against the tip of his nose. It tickled mercilessly, wrenching Ren to the side with a harsh double that bent him slightly at the waist. 

“Shit,” Sly muttered, mostly to himself as he surveyed the sight before him. The snow twinkled in the artificial light of the streetlamps, its beauty belying its inconvenience. Looking to their left, Sly slumped as he noticed his truck, which was mostly buried in the thick blanket of frozen misery. To get it free would require at least a couple hours of shovelling, and even then, the roads looks impassable. 

Ren was lost in thoughts of trekking through this tundra in abstract misery to get home when he felt a strong hand clap him against his chest. 

“Well!” Sly sounded far too bright and optimistic for Ren’s liking. He scowled towards the other man. “Looks like you’re hunkering down with me tonight,” he said, grinning ear to ear. Lucky for them, Sly was currently renting the apartment above the bar, so there was no commute for him to make to get home. Ren felt a little uneasy, not wanting to impose himself on Sly’s space given they didn’t really know each other too well just yet, but he had to admit, they were sort of out of any other options at this juncture. It was either stay here, or walk home in this, which would take… Ren didn’t even want to think about how long that would take. Hours, probably. He slumped, defeated, swiping a rogue bead of moisture that had collected just beneath his nose with the back of his hand. 

“You sure?” Ren asked, and was met with Sly’s usual level of enthusiasm. 

“Of course!” he assured Ren, pulling out his keys and turning back towards the iron steps that paved the way to his apartment. His head turned over his shoulder to look back at Ren, his grin wide. “Sleepover!” 

Ren couldn’t help but be endeared by Sly’s persistent optimism. Nothing ever seemed to frazzle him. Whatever was thrown his way, he just seemed to accept it and go with the flow. It was admirable, honestly, and the more Ren got to know him, the more he liked the guy. He was just… likeable. He had such a sweet yet charming charisma, the kind of person who was impossible to dislike. Ren followed him up the stairs carefully, keeping close as the door to the apartment opened up to greet them. 

Warmth hit Ren immediately as he stepped inside, Sly flicking on the lights to better guide them. It was a modest place; open plan, with a hallway which gave way to the lounge, a kitchenette just off to the side. Ren had yet to venture deeper, but he could assume that the bedroom and bathroom were off to the other side of the lounge. It was neat and tidy, clean without being clinical, decorated with a unique but tasteful interior which Ren couldn’t decide if it was already like this or if Sly had some part in the decorum. Either way, it was warm, it was comfortable, and it was inviting. Not to mention it was a shelter from the storm raging outside, and Ren would have honestly stayed in a hayloft had it kept him out of the elements. 

“Make yourself at home,” Sly was saying as he shrugged off his jacket and shoes, Ren mirroring his actions. He stopped mid-shoe-removal when he saw a flurry of movement out of the corner of his eye before hearing a soft, gentle sound. Sly crouched to his knees and it was then that Ren noticed the bundle of fluff before them. 

“Heyy, cutie-pie~” Sly said, his voice sing-song as he scratched the grey cat beneath its chin. “Ren, this is Phantom,” he said by ways of introduction, standing up as the kitty purred and wound herself around his legs. Though Sly stopped and glanced to Ren, slight concern on his face. 

“You’re okay with cats, aren’t you?” he asked. “You’re not allergic or anything?” 

Ren shook his head as he finished up the shoe removal, the two of them making their way through towards the lounge. “N’do, I’m good,” he said, shivering as the warmth of the apartment began to work its way through his clothes and settle into him. 

“Thank god,” Sly snickered, motioning for Ren to sit on the plush sofa. “You’d probably drown in your own snot if you had to fight allergies alongside that cold.” His tone was joking, and Ren could admit that it did make him laugh. 

“It’s not tha’d bad,” he huffed as he plopped himself down, letting himself sink into the couch. Once he was down, he resigned himself to never get back up again. This was it now, his life, his existence. He would live, laugh, love for eternity on this sofa. 

Ren hadn’t even noticed that he had dozed off until he was being shaken awake by a hand nudging him at his shoulder. Honestly, he didn’t even realise he’d closed his eyes until he was having to pry them open. Sly was standing over him, another glass of what he’d drank before in one hand and a beaker of what Ren recognised to be his arch nemesis in the other: NyQuil. His nose wrinkled up at the sight of it, and his reaction made Sly actually throw his head back slightly in laughter. 

“Look, I know it tastes like shit,” he said, “but it’ll help. Besides, I got you this as a chaser.” He thrust the beaker of NyQuil into Ren’s left hand, the tumbler of alcohol pressed into his right. Standing back, Sly watched with too much amusement for Ren’s liking. He offered him a wink. “Bottoms up!” 

Despite his reluctance, Ren necked the goop in one swift swallow, grimacing on reflex but quickly realising that his taste was suitably dulled enough thanks to the congestion for him to be able to taste it properly. Sly chuckled to himself, taking the beaker back from Ren and returning a moment later with his own drink, sinking down next to Ren on the other side of the couch, Phantom joining them as she leaped weightlessly onto Sly’s lap. 

“So,” Sly started, his hand occupied with tickling behind Phantom’s ears. “How you liking the big city? I can’t imagine how different it is to where you grew up.” His eyes moved back to Ren as he listened intently, his curiosity about the other man genuine. They’d chatted briefly during shifts before, so they knew a little about one another, but only snippets. Sly was apparently eager to learn more now that they were presented with the opportunity. 

“Hm,” Ren mused, thoughtful. He sniffled again, the heat from the apartment striking havoc on his nose. Sly wordlessly grabbed a tissue box from nearby and handed it across to Ren, propping his head up against a fist as he listened. “Probably a month now,” he said, wiping at his nose. He could feel that indistinct, hazy flicker of a sneeze brewing, though he ignored it in favour of talking with Sly uninterrupted. 

“D’ya miss home?” Sly asked without preamble. He was a natural conversationalist, making Ren relax in his presence. Opening up to him felt natural. 

“I mean.. sure, of course,” he admitted, his blinks coming quicker as he continued to fight against the uprising tickle. His nostrils pulsed widely in protest as the tickle progressed, becoming less of a flicker of more of a blaze. Ren grabbed another tissue from the box in preparation, just in case. “I thi’gk I need to, hh-!... adjust to the-.. to.. the…” 

His voice trailed off as the sneeze blossomed into something impossible to hold back. His eyes fell half-lidded, nose twitching, head even tipping back a little as it crested, the remainder of the sentence temporarily suspended as Ren worked through the tickle. It only took another second or two before Ren’s breath hitched, shoulders bouncing softly before he folded inwards into the waiting tissues. 

“..h-H’IITSSSCHH-!.. EHTSSCHHHH’iuh!..” 

There was a distinct unfinished tinge to the sneezes, but no more came for the moment. Ren snuffled heavily into the tissues he had wedged against his nose, swiping and rubbing until he lowered them to reveal a nose a deeper shade of red than it had been all night. 

“Shit, bless you!” Sly laughed, sounding truly impressed by the ferocity of those two. He didn’t seem at all fazed by Ren’s cold, seemingly finding some humour in it. Never once was Ren made to feel awkward or uncomfortable being sick in Sly’s home; quite the contrary. As they both sat there, Ren felt nothing more than comfortable - and comforted. 

“We don’t get snow back home,” Ren continued once he was back under control, his nose in that blissful moment of being clear enough for his consonants to be enunciated before it would fill back up in the coming seconds. There was a slightly sneezy haze lingering behind Ren’s expression as he spoke, wisping at the corners of his eyes and ghosting the edges of his nostrils. 

Conversation flowed pleasantly between the two of them as the night wore on, the first light of early dawn steadily creeping in. They talked of many things; Ren’s upbringing, Sly’s tragic love-life, only being interrupted by Ren’s frequent sneezes. It was around the time that the sky started its first streaks of pink and orange in the first-morning light that Ren stopped answeing Sly’s questions. Looking over, Sly noticed Ren’s eyes had closed, his cheek propped against the arm of the sofa. His lips were parted, his breathing heavy and laboured but steady (albeit a little noisy; Sly could clearly hear the congestion settled in Ren’s nose and on his chest.) 

Smiling to himself, Sly retreated to his bedroom and plucked a comforter from his bed, tucking it tightly around Ren as he took the empty glass from Ren’s slack fingers. 

“Get some sleep, kid,” he said quietly, ruffling Ren’s hair lightly as he walked around the sofa towards his own room. “And feel better.” 

~~~

[thewhumpcaretaker]

Re: the sneeze thing, do you think it would be hot if a guy wearing a super fancy traditional suit with the pocket square thingy like Marquis or Santino actually used it for its original purpose???? Maybe a ficlet about that?

Why yes. I do. Supremely hot.

I didn't specify a person, just a general mafia boss. (FYI, I try to keep these kinds of asks on my @snzcaretaker blog normally. I'll see you over there in the future.) Alright, let's get into it! TW: sneeze kink, cold

❤︎ Matching Pocket Square ❤︎

The boss sits square-shouldered at the end of his gleaming, hardwood table, the picture of manly grace. Everything matches: the polished black shoes correspond to the shiny black buttons of the waistcoat, the icy smile matches the mirthless glare, the gold silk pocket square brings out the gold silk tie. And the droplets welling up at the corner of his eyes match the tiny drop beginning to form under the tip of his nose.

He sniffs, to no avail.

He's been coming down with something since yesterday. A sore throat, tiredness. Nothing to worry about. But it turned terribly congested this morning, and it was too late to cancel negotiations. As if he'd give it up anyway. This deal is critical. It could mean the difference between doubled profits, or an all-out turf war.

Does he even care anymore?

Another sniffle. The inside of his nose is starting to throb, deep and demanding, somewhere in the back of the sinuses. He'll have to sneeze sooner or later, but just...just hold out a little longer... Meanwhile, the rival don is rattling off a long list of demands in a monotone voice, rings glinting and grin vicious. He tries desperately to answer with the same sureness, to pay attention to anything other than how stuffy and exhausted he feels, and the urgent sense that he can't hold back much longer. It's such a disheartening feeling.

He hates being sick. It's so much trouble to hide it, to avoid the mocking conversations that would otherwise ensue. It reminds him that he's never really safe, that he has to be strong, that no one honestly cares about him. He resists the urge to put his head in his hands and instead sniffs against the impending sneeze one more time, even more desperately.

Wrong move. Now he can't even breath without setting himself off. "Excuse mbe," he manages, "phone call," and rushes out of his seat, pretending to go for his cell phone.

He finds himself standing in the hallway with the same problem: that he's about to sneeze all over himself with no recourse. Half by instinct, his hands goes to that perfect pocket square. It's so crisp and nice and not intended for this at all and it's a bad idea but -

Very abruptly, it's too late.

A harsh, explosive release snaps his head forward, ending in a half-grateful, half-miserable moan. "Mmmff…ugh." He needed that so much. And this is the most luxurious "tissue" he's ever enjoyed. Embroidered florets press against his skin, mercifully silky. It feels like burying his face into a fresh, soft pillow where he wishes he could just lie down and rest. An inanimate thing, but safe for that very reason. Nonjudgemental, nonthreatening, just so welcoming that he blushes from the comfort, eyes scrunched closed.

The distinctive scent of dry-cleaned fabric, so pristine it has barely ever touched flesh, floods up into his nose. He sneezes again, and again, harder. Might as well - he's already soiled it. He just lets everything go.

He muffles a loud, sickly nose blow against the cloth and scrubs at his nose when it's done, as if he can clean the cold out of it. He can't. His airways are clearer now, but at the cost of feeling a little lightheaded, of feeling the fever creeping up the back of his neck with chills that make him long for warm arms around his shoulders. No, no, don't get emotional. He sighs, trying to catch his breath.

His eyes are puffy and watery now. If he's not careful, he'll look like he's been crying. He dabs at them politely with the corner of the kerchief and sniffs again, with a sense of finality. There, that's a little better. But he still looks downright vulnerable. Nothing can hide the irritated flush at the tip of his nose, which is already starting to drip again. And when he goes back inside, his pocket square will be mysteriously missing.

[cosmicmunsonwrites]

black friday ch. 2

bjorn x fem!oc

cw — verbal arguing

authors note — this is chapter 2 of my story on wattpad listed here. go check it out!!

i do not give any permission for any rewrites or republishing of this story.

COUGHING loudly into her elbow, aurora groaned in pain. her throat had felt like it'd been rubbed raw and her nose was beginning to feel sore from all the sneezing she was doing. the particles of dust and coal were traveling through her sinuses and making her feel extremely sick. the mining poisoning was no joke.

she was only halfway through when she'd decided to cut her shift short and hand in her tools to one of the administrators. there was absolutely no way she was going to make it all the way through without possibly fainting or worse.

beginning the walk home to her house, she stuffed her hands into her sweater pocket and hugged herself a little tighter to try to preserve body heat. all she could think about was a nice hot shower to help soothe her. the cold was only making her feel worse.

in what felt like literal hours to her, but really was only about 15 minutes, she was now home. she walked inside and locked the door behind her before dragging her feet all the way to her bedroom. she desperately needed to go to bed now. she felt the mucus pool at the back of her throat and her head begin to pound painfully.

she grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a sweater along with her undergarments. she headed into her bathroom and reached inside the shower to turn it on and wait for the heat to fill the room. she rid herself of her clothes then stepped onto the tile under the warm water.

she felt the immediate relief wash through her tense muscles and the warmth spread through her body. she just stood for a minute and sighed, closing her eyes and allowing herself to relax finally. this was much needed.

once she was out and dressed, she placed the devices back into her ears and sat onto her bed. suddenly there was a knock at her door. "come in," she said loud enough for whoever was behind it to hear clearly.

her sister pushed it open cautiously incase she'd be interrupting anything. "hey, you hungry?" she asked once she saw her sitting alone doing nothing. she closed the door and moved to sit beside her.

aurora contemplated for a second. "a little, but i'm not sure i can stomach anything right now. i feel like absolute shit," she said honestly.

rain frowned and chewed her lip in thought. "how about i make some food anyway and you eat what you can? you have to at least have something, even if its small. maybe it'll make you feel a little better too."

although she didn't really believe that, in fact she knew it'd have the complete opposite effect, she still agreed. "yeah, that's good. thank you," she said softly. "where's andy?"

"he stayed a little later today," she replied absentmindedly as her hands fiddled with the blanket. "he knew you weren't feeling well and saw you clocked out early so he wanted to make up some of your hours."

now it was aurora's turn to frown. she was more grateful than he'd ever know, but she felt bad. hours were excruciatingly long and working was hard for everyone, even weyland creations. "i thought you'd both finished your hours though."

rain nodded in response, lifting her head to look at her. "we did. we're going to admin tomorrow to check-in and hopefully be cleared if everything goes well," she informed her with a smile.

it was almost like a sense of relief washed over her with those words. "that's great to hear," aurora returned the excited smile. "i'm really happy for you guys."

"thank you," she replied happily. "i'm gonna go grab some food really quick then i'll be right back."

aurora nodded and watched her sister exit the room before laying down and swallowing down what felt like a ball of mucus sitting at the back of her throat. she closed her eyes for a moment, her head spinning and her body sore from the long hours she'd endured.

she felt the migraine begin to kick in along with the overwhelming need for sleep. she decided she needed to do her best to stay up though out of respect for rain considering she was taking the time to make her food. she readjusted back to her sitting position as the buzzing of the microwave filled the air.

only a minutes had passed before rain was back with two bowls, one for herself and the other for her sister. both were full of easy made mac 'n cheese. just something simple to get some food into their stomachs. aurora thanked her when she was given hers.

"guess who called today," rain said while gathering some of the shells onto a spoon. the younger one raised her brows, urging her to continue her sentence. "tyler."

aurroa choked on her noodles. "what? what did he want?" he didn't even look at them in person, not after the incident. they rarely even crossed paths anymore. so why on earth would he bother calling?

she shrugged nonchalantly. "he said they've been doing a ton a research and stuff for a few months now and think they might've found a ticket out of the colony."

her expression turned into one of confusion. "i'm not understanding. how the hell does that concern you at all? did he just want to brag and rub it in your face?"

she shook her head. "no, they want our help," she said hesitantly. "theres this abandoned warehouse a couple miles out that apparently has a ton of documents on a decommissioned ship. it has all these parts and— i don't really know. he said he wanted us to stop by tomorrow so they can fill us in."

"i still don't understand how this has anything ta' do with us," she added. "it's been two fuckin' years of nothin' but silence and suddenly they wanna help us get out of here with them? doesn't sound right."

rain bit her lip and hesitated. "they need you to fly the ship and andy for the codes."

"fuck no," she snapped before her sister could say anything else. "they go complete ghost on us then suddenly reappear when they need somethin'? not how it works. they're not going to take advantage of andy and nor will i pilot their stupid fuckin' ship. navarro is well and capable of doin' it all by herself."

the older sister nodded. she knew this was more than likely going to be her reaction. how could it not? with the way they completely abandoned them? it wasn't going to be easy to win her over. "look, i know it's frustrating...but they used to be like a family to us. maybe its time we all just put everything behind us," she said optimistically before setting the bowl down. her expression turned into a much more serious one. "i went to admin today. they've upped the hours."

aurora's face dropped instantly before rain continued speaking. "i wasn't going to say anything, because i wanted to wait until i actually talked to a rep tomorrow, but if this is the case and we do need more hours, then maybe their idea isn't so bad. obviously we'd need to know the plan first, but it wouldn't hurt to hear them out."

she shook her head in disbelief. "you're jokin', yeah? you're right, they were a family to us. you don't just leave behind everythin' like that. if we meant as much ta' them as they said we did, they wouldn't have just shut us out," she argued, her tone much quieter and full of sadness. "they left us and haven't even cared to check in or return any calls until they need a favor. now you really think we should just 'put everythin' behind us' and move on? do you not remember the nights we spent cryin' to each other over the pain they put us through?"

"i do. i remember everything..." rain confirmed understandingly. "but i also remember all of the good memories we had with them. that bond was unlike one we've ever had with anyone else and as much as i want to hate them or be mad at them for what they did, i miss them all like crazy. i know you do too, rory. please? if our hours meet the quota, then andy and i are free and we can just continue with our lives and decline. if not, then we go see what they're talking about and see if it could be a way out. it'd be nice to see them again."

aurora hated that she was right. she missed her family more than ever but she'd never forget how they shut them out. somehow she felt like the good outweighed the bad. "they have one shot and the moment they screw it up, i'm out. i'm not goin' through what happened last time. i'm not puttin' myself through that again," she said wearily. "i'm serious, rain. even the slightest bit that strikes up a red flag and i'm gone. it's unfair and i'm not jus' gonna forget about it all."

rain nodded in an agreement. "i understand. whatever you do, i'll follow you. if you don't feel like it's for us or maybe they're acting weird towards us then i'll be right behind you no matter what. and if they have anything to say, i'll defend you and we can leave immediately. its all your choice. i want you to be comfortable too, rory. i promise."

—

aurora was annoyed to say the least. first, she was sick. second, she was freezing. third, this walk felt like a million miles long. fourth, the quota of work hours had indeed been raised. and finally, they were just approaching the home that belonged to the people they once called family.

the oldest sister was leading them with andy behind her, and the youngest trailing a few feet behind them. "hey!" rain called out once she got close enough. bjorn was sitting on the doorstep, his device in hand as he played while navarro sat a bit away from him welding something together.

the boy glanced up at them for a second before looking back down at his game while his sister peeled her mask off. "oh, for fucks...," she mumbled loud enough for them to hear.

bjorn shut his game off and shoved it into his pocket, looking at the the oldest. "what's up rain?" he said with a tight lipped smile. "long time no see."

"i told you she'd show up," navarro said as she stood up and placed her equipment down. "and i told you she would too," she added, nodding towards the younger girl who was hidden behind andy. "you owe me ten bucks."

before anyone could say anything, a loud shifting sound startled the three siblings. they turned over their shoulders, andy raising a hand and smiling immediately. "hey! why'd the blind miner fall down the well?" tyler asked from the open doors in the elevated ship.

he took a step closer, rain following behind as her lips twitched up into a slight smile. "why?" andy asked curiously.

he returned his cheeky grin. "he couldn't see that well," he replied as the boy smiled even wider.

"please don't encourage him," rain said teasingly as she patted her brother on the back.

tyler nodded and chuckled to himself. "alright, go inside. i'll be there in a second," he called back before disappearing into the ship and shutting the doors.

the two walked into the spacious house, aurora hesitantly following behind. rain quickly walked through to the kitchen where she heard the voice of her former best friend while andy trailed close behind. the youngest took her time, not exactly ready to fully interact with them all again.

she looked around the living room as she walked around. it still looked the exact same. it still reminded her of all the good memories they had made in there all those years ago. she found herself smiling as she reminisced.

unfortunately for her, that was short lived. "good to see you again, rory," the familiar voice said. she sighed and turned around. though she'd just seen him outside, bjorn was now leaned up against the wall by the stairs, arms crossed over his chest and that stupid grin on his lips. she simply nodded and pursed her lips into a thin line. "what? no hug?"

"i'm sick," she said bluntly. she didn't care to sugar coat it like she would've done before. he didn't deserve that right now, not after how he left things.

his brows furrowed as he stared at her. "sick with what?" he asked as if he hadn't known the answer just by looking at her. her usually tanned skin was much more pale, her body slightly thinner, her eyelids more droopy, and her posture much more slouched.

fortunately for her, she didn't have to answer. another voice interrupted their conversation. "rory!" she heard tyler say as he rushed over and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. "its so good to see you again. how are you?" he asked excitedly.

she was slightly taken back by his new peppy personality, but it was also welcoming. she decided she liked this side of him. she returned his embrace without hesitation. "i'm good, tyler. and you?" she didn't need to see to know bjorn was staring daggers into his cousins back.

"better now that you lot are here," he replied as he pulled away. "you look great. ya' not gettin' old on me now, are you?"

she rolled her eyes at him and lightly smacked his shoulder. "i'm only 22, asshole. if i'm old then you must be a fuckin' grandpa at this point."

he threw his head back in a laugh. "alrighr, yeah, i'll give you that one," he said and smiled with an approving nod. "c'mon, lets get started."

she followed behind him, hearing bjorn scoff before joining as well. then she heard a loud squeal and felt a deathly tight grip around her. it slightly knocked the wind out of her. "oh my god!" kay squeaked out in excitement. "i missed you so much rory, you have no idea!"

aurora leaned into her hold and hugged her back with the same intensity, or at least as much as she could muster up. "i missed you too, kay."

"i'm really glad you came," she said as she pulled away, hand still holding her biceps to keep her close enough to whisper the next part. "they're really happy to see you," she added, nodding towards the boys. "especially that once. i know he missed you." she glanced towards bjorn.

she huffed out a small laugh before her face slowly turned into one of sadness. "i heard about your dad. i'm really sorry," she said, glancing at tyler as well.

he turned over his shoulder to let his bag down onto the floor. "between the hailstorms and the new diseases every cycle—"

"yeah, everybody's dyin', right?" bjorn interrupted his sentence. "so, should we show 'em," he asked slightly breathless and impatient, clapping his hands together to put emphasis on his words.

rain looked between the two boys. "show us what?" she asked curiously.

tyler motioned them all over to sit on the couches in the living room. "ok, so, last night we were loadin' up the last thesiotec. we were about 200 miles above the ground and all of a sudden—"

"beepity beep beep beep beep beep," bjorn mocked the sound of the radar, staring at the oldest carradine as he did. he was sat on a one seater by the wall, rain and andy beside him, navarro seated on the windowsill, kay and aurora on the longer sofa across from the wall tyler was leaned up against. all sat in a square.

he continues his sentence. "—it picks up this beepin'. navarro tracks it and turns out, this big wey-yu ship driftin' right above our heads."

rain looks to navarro. "drifting?" she questioned in confusion.

"decommissioned," she answered. "abandoned.

tyler nodded. "probably damaged or outdated."

"like that guy over there," bjorn said while nodding towards andy who was playing a game with a controller in his hands.

"bjorn!" his cousin scolded before kay mumbled something to him. "why are we all sittin' around here waiting for the travel permit the companies never goin' to give to us? thats the whole reason our parents didn't get to yvaga."

rain shook her head in disagreement. "because it takes nine years to get to yvaga and you can't make that trip without cryo sleep," she argued.

tyler shrugged. "decommissioned ships still carry tons of functional equipment."

"how do you know it wasn't decommissioned for a reason?" aurora finally spoke. "maybe theres a reason it's been abandoned."

bjorn chuckled and kicked his foot up onto the coffee table. "what? too scared?" he teased with that stupid smug grin she hated.

she scoffed and shook her head. "its not about whether i'm scared, its about riskin' our lives. you don't know whats on that ship and whether or not it's dangerous. are you really willin' to risk your life just to find these parts?"

navarro took a sip of her drink and set it down before speaking. "the hyperlink shows that the ship still has a few pods left. if anything happens, we just hop into of them and fix ourselves up."

rain chuckled to herself in disbelief. "you—you wanna break into a weyland-yutani ship and steal highly regulated equipment?"

"before someone else does," kay spoke up nervously.

she couldn't help but truly laugh. "you guys are insane."

they all muttered in agreement. "are you guys gonna help us?" kay asked optimistically.

"sorry, what do you need us for?" rain asked.

bjorn looked between her and tyler, his fingers tapping on his lip before speaking. "rory and andy," he blurted out. "we need rory and andy."

rain looked to tyler with a worried expression in hopes he'd give her a better answer. "he's a weyland-yutani synthetic. he can access the terminal on the ship to get us in and out without a fuss," he explained. "and rory's the best pilot and decoder we know. she'll be able to help fly us there and back and break down the protective hardwares to release the equipment."

"its the only way," navarro added.

the oldest sister glanced between her and tyler. "ok but what if we get caught? it'll ruin our chances of ever getting a travel permit," she noted.

bjorn threw his hands up in the air. "alright, rain and rory ain't comin'. how 'bout you let us take, andy then?"

aurora narrowed her eyes at him as if he was insane for even suggesting that. "we're not sending our brother up there alone," she snapped back.

the boy smiled and shook his head. "he's not your brother though, is he?"

tyler furrowed his brows. "bjorn, shut the fuck up!" he spat back.

"its true though, isn't it?" he asked, pointing to his cousin. "he's not your brother. he's just weyland damaged goods your dad found in the trash. and thats all he is, rory, so just let him come."

aurora wasted no time in standing up off the couch with pure rage filling her body. "go fuck yourself," she snapped at him. "i'm out. i want no part of your plan." she grabbed andys hand gently and spoke to him with a softness that contrasted from her previous tone. "c'mon, lets go."

he glanced up at her with a frown as the room began protesting their departure. "what's going on?" he asked.

she shook her head, blinking back tears as she carefully tugged on his hand. "we're goin' home," she replied as a tear slipped down her cheek. she let go of him to wipe it before bee-lining for the door.

"rory wait!" tyler called out urgently as he sprinted out the door behind her. "rory! please stop," he shouted, now jogging to keep up with her brisk walking pace. he finally caught up and stepped in front of her. "i'm sorry. listen, i know my cousin can be a dick sometimes, we all do, but he's right about somethin'. you need to wake up. because this company is not gonna give us anythin'. you know that as well as i do. we have to take it."

she chewed her lip nervously as silent tears fell. she hated how people treated andy. she hated it more than anything else.

tyler reached up to gently wipe the liquid with the back of his sleeve. "please, rory. i just don't want to end up like our parents," he said softly. "do you?"

she shook her head. "no, but i'm not just gonna fuckin' sit there and let him talk about my brother like that. he has feelings as well and its so fuckin' unfair that he has to go through this just because you guys need somthin' from him. i'm not gonna put him through that," she cried. he sighed softly and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. "i won't do it, tyler."

he rubbed gentle circles on her upper back with his palms and rested his chin on the top of her head. "i promise you, i'm gonna take care of him, alright? i'm not gonna let him get hurt and 'm not gonna let bjorn say anything to him. i promise you that."

"i'm not goin'," she decided before pulling away from him. she could see rain holding andys hand a few feet in front of the door while kay, navarro, and bjorn stood out on the porch watching. "i'm not doin' it. navarro can fly and decode just as well as i can."

she smiled sadly at him before glancing at her siblings who began to follow her on their route home.