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trektraveler · 3 years

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Chapter Five: Hello Again

Summary: Although Omegas had won the legal battle for equal rights, society was slow to catch up. Thought to be the weakest of the genders, they struggled to find opportunities that Alphas and Betas took for granted. Known as the Guillotine, Emmaline Beaumont was woman with a secret. Head of her family’s company; she was smart, shrewd, and tough as nails. At sixteen she presented as Omega and she’s hidden it ever since. Suppressants and hormone reassignment therapy allowed her to live her life as the Alpha her family needed her to be. The perfect solution, so long as she never allowed herself to be claimed.

As the President of Winchester Inc. Dean’s professional life was golden. As an unmated Alpha nearing forty, he was restless. Charming and devastatingly handsome, Dean was rarely without female company, but he wanted more. He wanted what his parents had. Someone made especially for him. His match, his true mate. Finding her on a trip to New York had been an unexpected dream come true, but no one ever said the road to love was easy.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!OFC, Dean x OFC, Dean Winchester x OFC

Characters: Dean Winchester, OFC, Sam Winchester, Jessica Moore, John Winchester, Jody Mills

Warnings: ABO dynamics, Heat/Rut cycles, Smut (Unprotected sex, knotting, oral sex, claiming bites), hurt/comfort, sickfic, hospitals and medical talk, fluff and angst, age difference (Dean is 39, OFC is 27), True mates, self hate (OFC struggles with gender)

Chapter Five: Hello Again Word Count: 2115

Masterlist

“Mr. Winchester is here.”

“Thank Christ,” Emma muttered before pressing the intercom button, “Great Jess, show him in please.”

She was determined to keep this meeting brief. Dean was flying in for the weekend, and she was desperate to see him. They kept in close contact, texting multiple times a day and having long phone calls at night. There was something old fashioned about courting this way, something innocent. Because they were already mated, the pressure of where all of this would lead was absent. They were already committed to being together so they could just talk, get to know each other. The sound of her Alpha’s voice soothed and comforted, and frankly she would been hard pressed to survive the separation without it.

Knowing that he was on his way to her this very moment had her mind wandering. It would be the first time they had seen each other since they were mated and all she wanted to do was burrow into his arms and stay there. Still, Emma was not without her pride and her professionalism. She was a Beaumont, damn it! And she wasn’t going to let her personal life prevent her from doing her job. She was strong, intelligent, determined and resolved. The iron fist in the velvet glove.

She sat straight and regal in her embossed, leather office chair. Queen of her domain, completely composed, she delicately sipped the remains of peppermint tea as the door to her office opened. Showtime.

The cedar forest scent of home hit first. It knocked her off balance even still seated.

Nothing could have prepared her for the sight of Dean walking into her office at that very moment. It was completely impossible, yet there he stood. Sure as the sunrise. Tall and bow-legged, clad in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit. All polished, pressed, and perfect. So very different from when they had last seen each other, but there was no mistaking the strong features of the man who had dominated her every thought since the moment they met. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. Oh fuck!

Dean followed the chirpy blonde into the executive suite, his sharp gaze taking notes. Thick, ivory carpet, elegant wallpaper in muted tones of light blue and gold. A carved maple credenza displayed an array of leaded crystal liquor decanters and a small refrigerator of bottled water. The air was lightly scented with citrus and sea salt. It was a continuation of the atmosphere that greeted him in the lobby. Chic and tasteful yet warm and completely feminine.

He recognized the floor to ceiling windows from the article and the woman who stood to greet him… he recognized her too. Ebony hair swept up in a simple twist, silky complexion airbrushed to perfection, full lips painted a classic red. The high-necked, cashmere sweater and matching trousers were cream and skimmed the subtle curves of a body he’d dreamed about for weeks.

He made it exactly three steps and froze. “Omega.”

Emma couldn’t breathe. The polite smile she reserved for business dissolved as her heart tripped. “Alpha.”

Jess looked between the pair and gaped. “You’ve got to be kidding me… your Alpha is Dean Winchester? How did you not catch that?!”

Emma couldn’t stop staring at him. Her mind was short circuiting, desperately trying to piece things together. Her professional life and her private life had just collided head on.

Her voice was surprisingly steady when she finally found it. “Jess, could you give us a minute?”

“You never got his last name?!”

“Jessica!”

With great reluctance and a dramatic eyeroll, Jess turned on her heel exited, her long skirt swishing around her ankles.

Dean was already across the room when the doors closed with a discreet click. A primal growl sounded in the back of his throat, and he had her in his arms. His mouth angled over hers, hot and urgent. His hands splayed her back, fisting the soft fabric of her sweater.

She clung to the lapel of his suitcoat for balance as he ravaged her. Delightfully warm and fuzzy, she tingled all the way down to her toes. Her Omega sighed in contentment, finally whole again after being separated from her mate.

He had to catch his breath when he finally broke the kiss. “Missed you, ‘Mega mine.”

She grinned up at him, swiping her thumb across his lips to wipe away the lipstick. “I missed you too. SO much… so much.”

He ran his hands up and down her arms, reacquainting himself with the feel of her. So different from when they first met. She looked like royalty, as refined and elegant as the environment around her.

“I like your grown-up clothes,” he brushed over her lips again, earning a happy sigh. “Sexy.”

Emma melted into him. She let herself be swept away, nipping enthusiastically at his beard covered jaw until his words registered. Grown-up.

She suddenly drew back with wide eyes. “Oh my God… you’re Dean Winchester!”

“Guilty.” He winked with a wolfish grin, “Emmaline.”

“Oh God,” she groaned, extracting herself from his grasp. “This is a disaster!”

“This is hilarious!”

“Stop laughing, this is serious!” She shoved his chest in frustration, only causing him to laugh louder. “We’re business rivals, you idiot!”

“We are?”

“Yes! Winchester Incorporated. They’re a complete monopoly! They own everything from Chicago to Seattle and whatever they don’t own, they hunt down and snuff it out before it can become a threat.”

“The nerve of those guys,” Dean drawled, leaning his hip on her desk.

“That is why you’re here isn’t it?” she demanded, hands on hips. “Test the waters? Scope me out?”

“Oh, I’m all about the scoping.” He grasped her hand and tugged so that she crashed reluctantly to him. She stood in the open space between his legs, her midnight eyes sparking with the humor although she refused to smile. That would be a submission, and he had to earn that.

“I’ve gotta admit, your portfolio’s impressive.” He murmured, his voice dropping low as he nuzzled behind her ear. “For a company barely out of it’s pampers.”

“It’s more than impressive, its profound. Of course, we’re always looking to expand our base.”

“Oh?” his teeth grazed her ear lobe causing her breath to hitch.

Emma cleared her throat, raising her gaze to the ceiling desperately trying to distract herself from Dean’s gentle exploration. “Mergers are an option that can be mutually beneficial.”

Dean hummed as he buried his nose in the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply. That was when it struck him, like a spell that broke. He had been so consumed by their bond when he saw her that he never even noticed, he couldn’t scent her.

“Dean? What’s wrong?’” she asked when he pulled back and frowned. His eyes flickering over her face.

“I can’t scent you.” He tried again and failed to catch even the faintest wisp of the sweet fragrance. She was thinner too, he realized as he scrutinized her appearance. She’d lost a good ten to fifteen pounds since he saw her last. Then he remembered the file Sam sent him. Emmaline Beaumont wasn’t an Omega; she was an Alpha.

“You’ve lost weight, are you taking those fucking suppressants again?”

“Of course not! I have no desire to go into toxic shock.”

“Well then what the hell? Because the whole world thinks Emma Beaumont is an Alpha.”

“That’s right. And they are going to keep right on thinking that so long as I’m in charge of this company.”

Dean on high alert now, his Alpha instincts kicking up. This was certainly not the reunion he had planned. His stubborn Omega stood utterly defiant, haughty even. Looking very much like the woman described in the article. Fire in her eyes, daring him to challenge her.

It was then that he caught a glimpse of something peeking out from under the high neckline of her sweater. Right where her claiming mark would be. His fingers peeled down the collar down and found a bandage covering her mating gland.

The Alpha flinched in stunned anger, as if he’d been slapped in the face. The claiming mark was meant to be worn openly, declaring an Omega’s status to the world. It would deter potential rivals and was a point of pride for her mate. It was a symbol of commitment and belonging. A visual reminder of their sacred bond. To see it hidden away, as if it were something shameful cut him to the quick. He’d dreamt of her, spent years searching for her. Did she not want him?

With one swift move, he ripped the bandage off. She yelped in surprise, rubbing the sting left behind by the adhesive, “Ah, Dean!”

“What the hell is this?!” he demanded, not bothering to disguise the hurt darkening his green eyes. “Why are you hiding my claim? Are you ashamed of me?”

“What?! No, of course not!” She reached up and cupped his face in her hands. Now that her claim wasn’t covered, her natural scent wafted up. It was all the stronger for having been sealed up for the past few hours. “I’m thrilled to be yours; this is just business. Like you said, Emma Beaumont is an Alpha.”

Apple orchard and magnolia blossom. Amazing what that combination could do to a man. He buried his nose in the crook of her neck and he was home. It made everything right. Hurt and doubts evaporated. Questions lingered, but they could wait. “Omega.”

Emma felt better than she had in weeks. That lingering headache was gone and the nausea along with it. Everything that had been bothering her faded to the background, replaced by her Alpha. His scent was so thick it made her dizzy, floaty. Intoxicated. She swayed slightly, falling into him. “Alpha.”

He grasped her arms lightly to steady her, smiling at the dreamy look on her face, “You alright?”

She let out a deep sigh as her brain buzzed, “Just a little lightheaded. Better now, I hate that patch.”

On closer inspection, Dean realized it wasn’t a bandage. The adhesive side was covered in a blue goo that gave off a strange, pungent musky smell. “What is this, anyway?”

“Just a patch,” she shrugged carelessly and her words slurred. “Alpha patch.”

Dean’s brows drew together in concern, she didn’t sound right at all. “Em?”

She grinned drunkenly, not caring at all that the room was tilting. She just felt so warm and relaxed, every ounce of tension drained away. It was delightful! “Hi.”

“Damn it,” he muttered when her eyes rolled back and she slumped into his arms.

She was somewhere between conscious and not as he sat her in her desk chair. Still smiling but not really looking at him. Her head nodding like a dashboard bobble. Dean knelt in front of her and took her chin firmly in his hand, “Emma, hey! Come on baby, look at me. What’s wrong, did you take something? Huh? Suppressants?”

“Hmm…. no. Patch.” Her tongue felt heavy and clumsy in her mouth, “Alpha. Alpha… patch.”

She frowned suddenly; her bottom lip stuck out in a pout. “You’re late.”

Her pupils were huge although her eyes couldn’t seem to focus on anything. Hell, she could barely keep them open. If he didn’t know better, Dean would have thought she’d been drugged. And he couldn’t help but think back to that horrible doctor that showed up when she’d gone into shock after he claimed her. If that son of a bitch has been treating her again, I’ll break his neck!

Suddenly remembering the assistant who showed him in earlier. He punched the call button on Emma’s desk while keeping a firm hold on her to keep her from sliding to the floor.

Jess had been pacing just outside the door. She couldn’t even eavesdrop thanks to the soundproofing her sister had insisted on during the last renovation. Ever practical, Emma always errored on the side of caution. It was infuriating!

The scene that greeted her when she rushed back in, was certainly not what she expected.

“What the hell happened?!”

“You’re her sister, right?” Dean demanded as he shrugged out of his suitcoat and wrapped it around Emma’s shoulders.

“Yes, what…?”

He cut her off, “You got a car?”

“Yeah,” Jess nodded, grabbing her sister’s bag and phone, already on the same page.

“Good.” Dean hooked one arm under Emma’s knees and the other behind her back, lifting her with ease. She hummed softly although her eyes were closed. Her head lolled aimlessly against his shoulder.

“We’re taking her to the hospital.” Dean said, his tone leaving no room for debate. “Let’s go.”

#alpha!dean x omega!reader #dean x you #dean x ofc #dean winchester fanfiction #spn fic #supernatural #abo dynamics #To The Victor

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whumphoarder · 5 years

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Long Distance Dadding

Summary: Peter gets sick while babysitting Morgan at the lake house and Tony is a Worried Dad™ about it.

Word count: 5,172

Genre: Sickfic, whump, hurt/comfort, fluff & angst

A/N: Mega thanks to @xxx-cat-xxx and @sallyidss or beta reading and ideas <3

(This story is set about a year and a half after the snap's reversal. Peter is 18 and in college and Morgan is 6)

Link to read on Ao3

The trouble with saving the world from the largest global disaster to date, Tony finds, is that no one ever shuts up about it.

“Okay, not to sound like an ass or anything...” Tony begins, already eliciting an eye-roll from his wife, “but I’ve already been given a Nobel Peace Prize, the Congressional Medal of Honor, three Victoria Crosses—British, Australian, and Canadian—a Russian Gold Star, a Chinese Hero's Medal, the Gold Cross of Zimbabwe, and about twelve other various countries’ awards. Why do I need to go to Morocco of all places now?”

“Because they built you a monument, Tony,” Pepper explains for the third time, her tone a bit exasperated. “There’s a two-hundred foot tall statue of you in their capital city, waiting to be ceremoniously revealed.”

Raising his hands to chest height, Tony wiggles his fingers—both the flesh and prosthetic ones—in a jazz hand gesture. “Oooh...a statue,” he mocks. “I’m titillated.”

Pepper snorts. “You’d better have mustered up some titillation by the time you shake hands with the Moroccan Prime Minister this weekend.”

“This weekend?” Tony balks. “We can’t go this weekend. Morgan’s got her… uh…”—he flaps his hand, trying to recall just what tedious elementary school obligation the first-grader has coming up next—“her snowman... ball… thingy.”

Pepper raises an eyebrow in amusement. “You mean the ‘Seasonal Snowflake Sing-along’?”

His face lights up and he snaps his fingers in recognition. “That’s the one!”

“Well, you’re in luck,” she laughs sardonically. “Earlier today, Morgan’s teacher called to let me know that our daughter has flat-out refused to participate this year. Something about itchy costumes, boring songs, and ‘child talent exploitation’—did you teach her that term by the way? Because I certainly didn’t and Ms. Sanchez was pretty ruffled about it.”

Tony has to bite the inside of his mouth to keep the grin from spreading across his lips. He shrugs innocently. “You know, it’s important to start building a child’s vocabulary as early as possible. All the experts agree.”

Pepper heaves out a deep sigh, but Tony can see the smile in her eyes. She leans in and pecks his cheek with a kiss. “Go pack for Morocco, Tony. Peter already agreed to babysit. And besides”—she whispers the next part in his ear, her fingers trailing over the collar of his shirt—“I don’t know about you, but I think we could do with a weekend to ourselves…”

“Well…” Tony clears his throat, feeling himself melting under her touch. “You always did know how to make a compelling argument, Ms. Potts.”

“So, Morocco, huh?” Peter says with a grin as he loads his duffle bag into the backseat of the car. Tony’s parked in the loading zone just outside of Peter’s residence hall at MIT that Thursday evening. “What’s going on over there?”

“Just another stupid award ceremony,” Tony grumbles. He moves back around to the driver’s side. “Gonna cut a big red ribbon, shake metal hands with some dignitaries, attend a couple of fancy banquets, yada yada…”

Breathing out a short laugh, Peter plops down into the passenger seat. He looks a bit haggard, though Tony can’t blame him; the first semester of college is always rough. Hopefully the long-weekend away will help.

Throughout the four-hour drive to the lake house, they chat about Peter’s classes (“You know, they told us in high school that college was going to be so much stricter, Mr. Stark, but there was literally a kid in my English class who started making grilled cheese sandwiches on a hotplate and selling them during the lecture and the professor bought one”), the new people he’s been meeting (“Pretty sure my roommate is in a cult, actually...”), and extracurricular activities (“Did you know if you take fencing, archery, pistol shooting, and sailing, you can become a certified pirate?”). Eventually, they run out of things to catch up on and Peter starts looking drowsy, so Tony turns on the radio for some background music and they continue on like that for a while.

Three hours in, Tony’s forced to stop for gas. Peter is sleeping soundly, curled up in his hoodie for the whole time it takes to fill the car. For a moment, Tony’s tempted to just let him be, but given that this will likely be their last opportunity for a break until they’re home he ultimately decides against it.

“Hey Pete?” Tony says, shaking the kid’s shoulder a bit to rouse him. “Did you wanna stretch your legs or anything?”

Peter blinks awake and shifts to sit up straighter with a small groan. “How far are we?” he mutters.

“Another hour at least, but I thought we might get some late dinner too,” Tony replies. “There’s an Arby’s right across the street.”

Peter’s face screws up into a grimace. “Ugh, Arby’s is the worst. It’s like, a wad of salty meat on a bun.”

“But with sauce,” Tony points out. Seeing Peter’s expression doesn’t change, he amends, “Alright no Arby’s. McDonald’s? They’ve got a new McFlurry flavor for the holidays I think.”

Peter gives a tired shrug, then curls back up against the window. “You can just get something for yourself. I’m not very hungry.”

Tony eyes him suspiciously. “Who are you and what have you done to Peter?”

“Hilarious, Mr. Stark,” Peter deadpans. Then, after a moment, he admits, “My stomach’s kinda hurting.”

Tony’s brow furrows. “Yeah?”

Rubbing at his gut one-handedly, Peter nods. “Yeah, since lunch. Probably shouldn’t have tried convenience store sushi...”

Tony snorts a bit. “Well, they do say a key part of college is experimentation and learning from your mistakes.”

Peter huffs out a laugh. “Awesome. Maybe I’ll join Martin’s cult next.”

They make it the rest of the way to the lake house without incident. Morgan’s already asleep, so Peter hangs out in the kitchen chatting with Tony and Pepper for a bit before turning in to the guest bedroom for the night.

Peter seems fine the next morning, if a little groggy. Their flight to Morocco leaves at 6:30, but both kids are up at stupid o’clock in the morning to send them off.

“You’re sure you don’t wanna go to your concert thing tonight?” Tony tries one last time as he encircles Morgan in both his flesh and prosthetic arms for a goodbye hug.

She shakes her head firmly. “Every time we practice Jingle Bells, Keegan makes farting noises with his mouth and the vein in Ms. Sanchez’s neck gets really big and red,” she says. “Peter’s more fun.”

“Yeah, probably,” Tony agrees. He pecks her on the cheek before turning to Peter, who’s blinking tiredly and sipping at a mug of coffee as he leans against the kitchen island. “Now, are you sure you’re up for a whole weekend of this?” He gestures to the energetic six-year-old in front of him.

“I think we’ll manage,” Peter says with a small smile. “If she gets too crazy, I’ll just web her to the wall.”

“Hey!” Morgan complains, and Peter sticks his tongue out at her in return.

Tony chuckles. “Sure, do what you gotta do,” he allows. “Just don’t get it in her hair—hate to have to cut it off. The Valentine’s Day sing-along is up next.”

“Uuuuggghh,” Morgan groans dramatically.

Despite all of Tony’s protests, he has to admit that Morocco is pretty gorgeous. There are definitely worse places to be honored with a gigantic statue.

“I’m just saying, I think the chin was too big,” Tony complains as they make their way back to their hotel room following the ceremony that evening.

Huffing out a little laugh, Pepper shakes her head. “I’m sure they did their best, Tony.”

“But of all the things to get wrong, why’d it have to be the chin?” he goes on, though there’s no real heat there. “I mean, c’mon, this whole thing is about the defeat of Mr. Purple Ballsack Face—they could have a bit more sensitivity…”

While Pepper heads off to the shower, Tony glances at his watch. It’s just after one a.m. Moroccan time, meaning Peter and Morgan are probably finishing up dinner back at home. He figures that’s as good a time as any to check in, so he calls Peter’s phone.

Four rings later, a small voice that definitely doesn’t belong to the teenager answers the call. “Hello?”

Tony frowns. “Morgan?”

“Oh! Hi Daddy,” Morgan greets, her tone going much brighter. “How’s your trip going? Do you like maracas?”

Tony chuckles a bit. “Sweetheart, I keep telling you, Mommy and I are in Morocco. A maraca is a musical instrument that you shake to make noise.”

“Can you buy me one?”

“One of what?”

She giggles. “A maraca!”

“No, honey, listen to me.” Tony runs a hand over his face. Maybe Pepper was right about the whole needing a vacation thing after all. “Maracas are not Moroccan. They don’t make them here. It’s a totally different thing.”

“Oh.” There’s a beat. “Can you buy me one anyway?”

“I don’t know—we’ll see,” Tony says, shaking his head slowly. “Hey, can I talk to Peter for a sec?”

“Uh…” Morgan hesitates. “Peter can’t come to the phone right now.”

Tony frowns. “Why’s that?”

“He’s throwing up,” she says simply.

“Morgan!” he hears Peter groan irritably in the background.

“What?” she demands, speaking away from the phone now. “You told me to talk to him for you, so I am.”

“But you weren’t supposed to tell—” Peter’s voice is cut off by the sound of retching, followed by the faint sound of liquid splashing.

Tony pinches the bridge of his nose. “Why is Peter throwing up?”

“He’s sick,” Morgan reports. “We were playing before, but then he said he didn’t feel good and his stomach hurt so we were just watching Wreck-It Ralph for a while. Then I said I wanted taquitos for dinner and he threw up on my Elsa blanket. It was really gross. But he said he was sorry, so I told him it was okay.” She pauses her rambling for a second. “We can wash it, right Daddy? Like that time I spilled all the yogurt on it?”

“Yeah, I’m sure the blanket will be fine,” Tony says absently. He’s already scrolling through his calendar app to figure out just how many Moroccan obligations they have left to attend. “Can you give the phone to Peter now, please?” he requests. “And then go to the kitchen and see if you can find him a can of Sprite, okay? Maybe some crackers too.”

“Yeah, okay,” Morgan agrees.

He hears shuffling over the line, which he assumes is the phone being passed between them, immediately followed by the sound of Morgan’s footsteps hurrying out of the room. A second later, Peter’s voice croaks, “Sorry, ’m fine, Mr. Stark. And Morgan was watching another movie. Got everything…“—he swallows hard—“handled.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Very convincing. I’m sure Elsa agrees.”

“Elsa had it coming, honestly,” Peter grouses. “Those songs always get stuck... stuck in my—” He burps sickly, and then Tony hears the phone clatter onto the tile followed by more muffled retching and splashing noises.

Tony sighs deeply, running a hand over his face. So much for vacation. He fires off a quick text to Happy: Hey, you busy tonight?

As Peter continues to retch, three dots appear on the screen indicating Happy is typing. Are you in a foreign prison again?

For the last time, Slovakia was not my fault, Tony retorts.

A second later Happy texts: Keep telling yourself that.

Tony hears the toilet flush and the sound of the phone being picked up again. Peter’s voice, shakier now, comes back over the line, “Uh… you still there?”

“Of course. Wouldn’t miss it,” Tony says briskly. “Bathrooms have the best acoustics, you know.”

“That’s really gross...” Peter mutters.

“I don’t think you’re in a position to talk about gross right now, puke-boy,” Tony retorts as he fires off another text to Happy: Got a situation. How soon can you get to the lake house?

Happy’s reply comes a few seconds later: I’m watching Iron Chef America and doing laundry, Tony. It’s my day off.

Tony counters with, The kids are home alone and Peter just decided to reenact The Exorcist

The three dots appear, then disappear. Then they appear again a moment later, followed by a message: I can be there in 2 hours

You’re the best, boo <3, Tony shoots back. To Peter he informs, “Happy’s on his way.”

“He doesn’t have to,” Peter protests. “It’s just food poisoning or something…”

Tony scoffs. “Well, either way, someone who isn’t busy puking should probably be keeping an eye on the little troublemaker.” He pauses for a beat. “And Morgan too.”

Peter just groans.

In the background, Tony hears the telltale pattering of small feet on the tile. “I couldn’t reach the crackers, so I got you Doritos!” she announces.

Peter’s voice is hesitant. “Oh. Uh… thanks.”

There’s the sound of a crinkling bag moving closer to the phone. “They’re Cool Ranch flavor!”

Immediately, Peter starts gagging again.

Tony heaves out a sigh. It’s gonna be a long night.

After filling his wife in on the developments back on the home front (and being assured by Happy that he was keeping tabs on the situation as he made his way to the lake house), both Tony and Pepper decide they should try to get some shut-eye before their packed day tomorrow.

Pepper falls asleep straight away, clearly exhausted from their full day of travel and social obligations, but Tony finds himself tossing and turning on the overly-soft hotel mattress. It’s not until Happy texts that he’s safely arrived at the lake house to assume his uncle duties that Tony finally manages to drift off.

It doesn’t last long.

It’s barely 4:30 in the morning when Tony’s roused from his sleep by his phone vibrating under the pillow. He pulls the device out to see a message from Happy:

Kid’s had his appendix out already, right?

Being mindful of his sleeping wife beside him, Tony holds the phone just inside the duvet to shield the glowing screen from waking her. Yeah, before the snap, when he was 16, he replies, his mind going back to Halloween night seven years ago. A frantic and babbling Ned somehow managed to hack into Karen’s communication systems to inform Tony that Peter was more or less dying on the bathroom floor. An emergency surgery later, Peter’s been one appendix lighter ever since.

Why? Tony adds. Is it that bad?

Nah, just checking, Happy says. He says he’s alright but he’s running a fever and his stomach’s hurting a lot

Tony frowns. How high’s the fever?

Not very high. 100.9. It’s probably just a bug then

Yeah, probably, Tony agrees, despite the nagging worry in his gut. How’s Morgan taking it?

Just put her to bed, Happy reports. She kept trying to bring Peter juice pops until he finally ate one. Puked it up again ten minutes later. Don’t think nursing is her calling in life

Tony huffs out a short laugh as he types: Nope

Happy follows up with: Alright, I think I’ll try to get Sir Barfs-a-lot to bed now

Godspeed, Hap, Tony replies.

Then he slides the phone back under his pillow, pulls the covers up around his chin, and doesn’t sleep a wink.

“Look, I don’t like this situation any more than you do, but we can’t just bail on six dignitaries, Tony,” Pepper says in exasperation. She’s standing in front of the bathroom vanity, door ajar as she finishes straightening her hair. “We have two meetings this morning and a luncheon scheduled with the royal family at two.”

Tony runs a hand through his hair. “I know, I know…” he sighs. “I’m probably overreacting, it’s just…” he trails off.

It’s eight o’clock now, meaning the time is currently two a.m. back in New York. According to Happy’s last text, Peter managed to make it to bed around midnight and though he was still in a fair amount of pain, he hadn’t vomited for a few hours. Objectively, Happy did seem to have everything pretty well handled, but Tony still can’t shake the feeling that this might be something more than a virus.

Returning the sigh, Pepper unplugs the flat iron and sets it on the counter before walking over. “It’s just that your kid is sick, so you’re gonna be a worried dad about it anyway,” she concludes for him. “Am I right?”

“Guilty.” Tony gives her a sheepish smile. “Guess I’m getting soft in my old age...”

Pepper wraps her arms around him, pulling him close, and plants a gentle kiss to his lips. “Yeah, you are,” she agrees. “But don’t change. It’s a good look on you.”

They kiss for another few seconds before Pepper pulls back. “Well, the good news is, I’ve gotten quite good over the years at attending social obligations in your stead.” She gives his shoulders a squeeze. “You go do what you gotta do.”

With Pepper’s blessing, Tony leaves the jet and most of his luggage at the hotel with her, opting to just fly home in the Iron Man suit instead. It’s partly to ensure Pepper has a ride home in place, and partly so that he can shave an hour or two off the flight time. Even then, it’ll be a good five hours before he’s back, which gives him more than enough time to stress.

Sometime around the half-way point, Tony is soaring over the Atlantic when FRIDAY interrupts his thoughts. “Boss, you have an incoming call from Happy Hogan.”

“Put him through,” Tony says immediately.

A second later, Happy’s gruff voice comes over the speakers. “Got any extra sheets somewhere?” he says by way of greeting.

Tony grimaces. “So it’s one of those nights, huh?”

“Oh yeah, we’re having a blast,” Happy grumbles tiredly. His voice has a slight echo to it, indicating he’s in the bathroom. “Kid’s also wearing a pair of your pajamas now—hope you’re not too attached because the way this night’s been going, I foresee more casualties.”

Worriedly, Tony diverts more power to his thrusters. “The linen closet is in the hall by the master bedroom—should be some extra sheets in there,” he informs. “How’s his fever?”

“Holding steady around 101. He looks pretty miserable though.”

“Can I talk to him?”

“Hang on.”

There’s some movement and a few muffled words from Happy’s end before Peter’s voice rasps out a very pathetic sounding, “Yeah?”

Tony winces in sympathy. “Yikes, kid...” he says as lightly as he can manage.

“I threw up in bed,” Peter admits, his voice thick. “’m really sorry. I was tryin’ to get up, but moving made my stomach hurt more and then I just…” He trials off, sniffling slightly. “And now Happy says you’re flying home early and, and... I’m just really, really sorry.”

“Hey, hey,” Tony interrupts over the kid’s emotional rambling. “It happens, no big deal, okay? And honestly, Pepper’s much better at the whole decorum thing than I am, so the Moroccan royal family is better off with her anyway.”

A small, dismayed noise issues from Peter’s throat. “The royal family?” he whines. “Mr. Stark…”

“It’s just fancy tea with old people,” Tony assures. “Boring as hell, I promise. You’re doing me a favor.”

“God. I’ve gotta be the worst babysitter ever,” Peter moans sadly. “Zero stars on Yelp. You should give Happy my fifteen bucks an hour...”

Tony huffs out a single laugh. “Don’t worry, we’ll get him a nice fruit basket when this is over. Chocolate covered strawberries and all that.”

Over the line, Tony can hear heavy footsteps on the tile. “Sheets are changed,” Happy says, his voice muffled.

“Thanks,” Peter croaks back. Into the phone, he says, “Um, I’m gonna go back to bed now.”

Tony hums in affirmation. “That’s good. Try and sleep, alright?”

“‘Kay,” Peter says. Then, in a very small voice, he adds, “Uh...I’m really glad you’re coming home, Mr. Stark.”

Tony’s heart aches. “Yeah. I am too, kid,” he says softly.

By the time Tony’s boots touch down in the yard, the sun has just come up over the lake house, clearing the early morning fog. He retracts his armor and heads into the house, legs wobbly from the lengthy flight.

He finds Morgan and Happy sitting at the kitchen table, eating breakfast. The six-year-old immediately jumps up to greet him.

“Daddy!” she exclaims, racing over. Tony stoops down and wraps his arms around her, pulling her into a hug.

“Hey pumpkin,” he greets, planting a kiss on her forehead. “You’re up early.”

She shrugs. “I didn’t wanna sleep anymore. I wanted to see if Peter was better.”

“Is he?” Tony asks.

Morgan shrugs again. “I dunno, he was sleeping and Uncle Happy said I couldn’t wake him up ‘cus he’s sick. So we were gonna make pancakes, but Uncle Happy couldn’t find the pancake flipper,” she says with a pout. “So he was gonna use a fork. But then he dropped the eggs on the floor and they got broken and he said a bad word and now we’re eating cereal instead.”

His eyes flick up to Happy, who’s finishing off a bowl of raisin bran and looking at least as exhausted as Tony feels.

Since Peter is still sleeping, Happy and Morgan head out to feed Gerald and run some errands while Tony heads to his own room for a quick shower and change of clothes. Once he’s done, he pours himself a cup of coffee and heads to the guest room where he finds Peter curled up in bed, a lined trash can beside him.

“Aw, kid…” Tony breathes out as he approaches the bed. Even in his sleep, Peter’s brow is beaded with sweat and his face is pinched in pain.

He straightens out the kid’s covers and watches him for a few moments, taking in the rise and fall of his chest and his fever-flushed cheeks before sinking down into an armchair beside the bed.

Only a few minutes into his silent vigil, the combination of jet lag and sleepless nights catches up with him and Tony finds himself nodding off.

It’s the sound of whimpering that pulls Tony from his sleep thirty minutes later. His eyelids flutter open to see Peter curled up on the bed, arms circled around his stomach and eyes red and wet with tears.

“Whoa, whoa, hey,” Tony says in alarm. He quickly moves over to sit on the edge of Peter’s mattress, a hand on the kid’s shoulder, but the movement of the bed only makes Peter moan. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Stomach r-really hurts,” Peter manages to choke out. “‘S like, stabbing me.”

A fresh wave of worry washes over Tony. “Where does it hurt?” he asks. Cautiously, Peter hovers a hand over his lower right side, causing Tony’s eyes to widen. “Kid...” he begins.

“But-But it can’t be that!” Peter protests. “I already had it out. It’s gone, it’s—” He cuts himself off with a groan, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Does it feel like it though?” Tony presses. “Like your appendix did?”

Without opening his eyes, Peter nods hesitantly. “Yeah, exactly like that. But it can’t be,” he insists, sounding like he’s trying to convince himself as much as his mentor. “It’s gone.”

“True, but you’ve got plenty of other organs in there that could be going haywire,” Tony points out. He makes a beckoning gesture at Peter’s stomach. “Let me see.”

Reluctantly, Peter lifts the hem of his shirt up to expose his abdomen. His lower belly appears slightly swollen and the skin is flushed a light pink. As carefully as he can manage, Tony presses his fingertips to a spot about four inches down diagonally to the right of the kid’s navel.

Peter instantly gasps. He clamps a hand around Tony’s wrist, startling him. “Stop, stop, please,” he begs.

“Okay, okay,” Tony says, quickly releasing the pressure. But rather than relieving the pain, Peter cries out and curls even more into himself.

“That’s it—we’re going to the hospital,” Tony decides, already pulling out his phone to fire off a text to Happy. “Appendix or not, this is obviously something.”

Tellingly, Peter doesn’t argue. He just squeezes his eyes shut and gives a teary nod.

It takes a few minutes just to get the kid to uncurl enough to sit up, and then once he is up, he’s so nauseous that it’s another several minutes of hanging over the trash can and swallowing convulsively before he manages to get to his feet. The walk to the car is slow and shaky, with Tony bearing most of his weight. Thankfully, they’re less than half an hour from the lake house to the nearest SHIELD base, and they are equipped with a full Medical facility—something that definitely factored into Tony’s decision to purchase this particular property.

(Retired or not, he’s still a goddamn worrywart.)

Peter is lying curled up in the backseat, and Tony keeps stealing glances at him through the rearview mirror. The kid whimpers quietly with each bump in the road and every turn elicits a low moan.

“Almost there, kiddo,” Tony promises him. “Just fifteen more minutes.”

But only three minutes later, he hears Peter inhale a sharp breath, then suddenly go quiet.

“Pete? Still with me?” Tony asks worriedly, glancing up at the mirror. He’s half-expecting to see that the kid’s passed out, but instead finds Peter looking infinitely less tense than he did a moment ago.

“Yeah,” Peter breathes out. “It just hurt really bad for a second, but then it stopped hurting? Not all the way, but it’s a lot better now. Like, a lot better.”

Tony’s heart drops as one thought screams in his mind: something fucking ruptured.

“That’s, uh… that’s good Peter,” he says shakily as he presses the gas pedal to the floor. “Just hang in there, okay?”

A gurney is waiting for Peter outside when they pull into the SHIELD base and he is immediately rushed to an examination room. But when the test results are inconclusive and his fever spikes to nearly 104, the doctors decide that exploratory surgery is their best bet to figure out what’s going on.

Tony spends most of the next three hours in the waiting room on his phone. First, he manages to get a hold of May in the middle of her shift. He gives her the lowdown while simultaneously sending a wildly expensive Uber to pick her up and drive her to the base.

Next, he calls Happy, who is currently at an indoor butterfly farm with his awe-struck niece. “Fucking knew something was wrong,” Happy sighs in response when Tony tells him.

Morgan talks to him for a few minutes, expressing both her heartfelt concern for Peter and the overwhelming joy she experienced when a very pretty purple butterfly landed on her arm a few minutes ago.

Tony can’t help but love her for it. Morgan might come across calloused or unfazed at times, but between the blip’s reversal, the defeat of Thanos, and seeing her dad’s long and arduous recovery process following the loss of his arm, she’s lived through more trauma in her six years than most people do in several decades. He’s glad that she’s usually able to find happiness regardless.

It’s around that time that Tony’s adrenaline fades enough for him to realize just how much his wrist is aching from where Peter grabbed it and rolls up his sleeve to reveal purple bruises. He’s pretty sure nothing is broken, but quietly gets an ice pack from the nurse anyway to press to the injury, sick at the thought of how much Peter had to be hurting to do that.

Tony calls Pepper—who has just finished up her royal luncheon—and finally lets himself fluster out properly.

She manages to talk him down from the panic attack that’s threatening to overtake him just in time for the doors leading back into the OR to swing open and Bruce to emerge.

“I’ll call you back, Pep,�� Tony ends the call abruptly. Then hurries over to his friend, stomach in knots. “How’d it go? Is he alright?” he asks anxiously.

Holding up a hand, Bruce clears his throat, a little awkwardly. “Okay, first of all, I’d just like to say that the surgeons are just finishing up and Peter is, for the most part, fine.”

Tony instantly breathes out a huge sigh of relief. “Thank god…”

“But, uh, for the second thing...” Bruce goes on, gesturing to one of the waiting room chairs. “You might want to sit down.”

“It grew back?!” Peter balks at them.

It’s been about five hours since his surgery now and the kid is finally lucid enough to take part in the absurd medical conversation surrounding his unprecedented case. Bruce, Tony, and May attempted to explain the situation earlier, but Peter hadn’t been able to keep up and ended up nodding off straight into his jello cup, so they’re on round two now.

“Well… sort of,” Bruce explains, adjusting his glasses. “When you got un-blipped, your cells were reconstructed, same as everyone else who came back. But since your mutated DNA regenerates your cells at an expedited rate, they somehow took that process a step further and managed to restore your body to, uh…” He flaps a hand, searching for the correct term.

“...to factory settings,” Tony finishes for him. He huffs humorously. “Congrats, kid. You’ve gotta be the only person in history to have their appendix burst twice.”

Peter groans. “Awesome. Parker Luck strikes again...”

May tuts and hits his shoulder playfully.

“You’ll be on heavy antibiotics for a while,” Bruce continues. “Luckily, the rupture occurred very close to the time of your surgery, so peritonitis didn’t have time to set in yet. The surgeons flushed out your abdominal cavity as best they could and hopefully the combination of the medication and your enhanced healing will be enough to prevent another infection.”

“So don’t jinx it,” May concludes firmly. She ruffles her nephew’s curls.

Morgan and Happy appear in the doorway a few moments later. Tony gets up, ready to remind the little girl that she needs to be gentle with Peter since he’s still recovering, but it seems as though Happy’s already given her that talk because rather than bounding over, she tiptoes into the room, arms held behind her back.

“Hi Peter,” Morgan greets. “Does your tummy feel better now?”

“Yeah, a lot,” Peter assures her with a small smile. “Thanks.”

“Good.” From behind her back, she produces a colorful wooden instrument and shakes it. “Uncle Happy and I bought you a Morocco!”

Running a hand over his face, Tony lets out a long sigh.

God, he loves these kids.

Link to all my fics!

If you're interested in reading the full story of the first time Peter's appendix ruptured, check out my previous work: Ned the Dumbwaiter

Or, for more sick Peter at the lake house with Tony and Morgan, try: Dad Level: 3000

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

#sick peter parker #irondad fic #morgan stark #Peter Parker & tony stark #lake house #serious illness #surgery #appendicitis #babysitting #peter parker needs a hug #tony stark has a heart #my fic #irondad & spiderson #vomiting #hurt/comfort #peter parker whump #whump

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mirai-eats · 5 years

Text

Stray Spring:: Dance (Summer Romance)

Snufmin, 4,673 words, part 2/5

flower symbolism bc thats how i work i dont change, Fluff, Romance, so soft it hurts, Light Angst, Sickfic, Spring Deity Snufkin, little my is a demigod???

A deity borne of spring and summer can’t leave Moominvalley alone.

read on AO3

Moomin had a hard time getting himself out of bed today and that bothered him since today was an important day. Mamma didn’t scold him for stumbling down the stairs well into breakfast, but only wished him a good morning and gently told him to have those midnight adventures on days he doesn’t need to get up early.

Sniff was charged with distracting Little My and taking her up to a rural spot in Lonely Mountain where Snufkin had buried a box of rocks for her to find. Meanwhile, it was up to the Moomins and every spare hand to set up the extravagant party to celebrate the new season and Little My’s new age. Moomin didn’t know how old she was, and every time he asked something would always interrupt. He gave up asking and resorted to counting the candles on her cake.

The party was going to be lovely, Moomin thought. Long tables were set out with summer flowers and stakes with paper lanterns framed the perimeter they set up, strings of lights draped the trees and strung over their heads as an imitation of stars. Mamma was cooking with vigor in the kitchen, preparing enough food to keep the whole valley full through winter. In the meantime, Mamma had set out heaping plates of juicy, red watermelon and sweet berry juice for people setting up the party. Moomin took a few slices and ran down to Mr. Hemulen’s where Snufkin was helping him pick flowers to decorate.

“This is very delicious, thank you Moomintroll,” Snufkin said after chewing thoughtfully on the melon.

“You’re welcome, now let’s haul these over so we can get them on the tables and chairs. Little My is due back soon!”

It was no walk in the park bringing so many flowers in the wheelbarrows. It was a miracle they got them all placed in time right before they heard the large shouts of Little My coming from just beyond.

“Everyone get in place! She’s coming!” Pappa clapped his paws and on cue, everyone rushed to stand in attention, facing the hill Little My will climb to the top of and see the party waiting for her.

“Mymble isn’t here yet, what do we do?” Pappa fretted, his hat tilted askew in his frantic movement.

“She will come, it’ll be a grand surprise on top of this surprise when her mother comes,” Mamma soothed.

---

The party was going well, very well, but the Moomin’s were still eyeing the path from the beach waiting for The Mymble to arrive. She’ll come when she comes, Snufkin thought.

Snufkin didn’t want to admit it, but he was rather nervous himself. He kept to himself at the fringe of the party, in which most, if not all, of Moominvalley, showed up for. The record player Moominpappa had successfully fixed up was playing joyful tunes into the sweet, summer air as the day slowly cooled as the night struggled to blanket the horizons. This was the longest day of the year and sunset didn’t come until the party reached its peak, when the music grew the loudest and drinks splashed refill after refill into cups. Little My had stuck a little cosmo from the table display into her bun as if it were her crown and swung around in the middle of it all, her laughter loud and smile even louder.

It’s when the sun touched the tops of the forests and the sky was a rich gold with strands of rosy pink did a parade arrive. Thirty-four children with hair red like Little My’s and screams somehow louder than hers rushed from the beach trail and over to the party, in the midst of their chaos rose the imposing figure of their mother.

The Mymble was eccentric, a presence so loud and bright it’s hard to ignore, especially how she was taller than even the tallest hemulen. Her red hair was messy atop her head, where little baby’s breath flowers were scattered like sparse snow and her eyes glittered like sunshine on the greenest lake surface. The air felt sweeter in her presence, cooler like a gentle spring breeze dripping with honeysuckle petals. Little My leaped with a shout and ran into her mother’s embrace, her big arms holding her tightly to her chest. The party grew louder, more rambunctious, fit for a Little My with too much energy crammed in that very little body.

From the fringe of the party, Mymble’s eyes landed on Snufkin. This was the first time she’s seen him since he was placed in a basket and sent down the river. He tipped his hat and turned away.

---

He wasn’t mad at her. He couldn’t bring himself to be angry at her for letting him go when he was so young. He grew up fine, he never pined for the affections of a mother or the guidance of a father. He knew what his mother and father were, but when Moominpappa placed a name and face to their beings, shaped their characters through his stories, he ached something sharp like a cold pick of winter ice drilled into his heart.

It was a surprise when it wasn’t Moomintroll who found him first, but The Mymble. Overwhelmed with the party, he had dove into the forest and climbed up a maple tree thick with green leaves. The summer breeze hit him just right, and from here he can watch the sun tiptoe the horizon and paint the sea a brilliant, hazy orange that drove the warmth of the day away.

“Snufkin,” she said.

He nodded in acknowledgment and lit his pipe, letting the smoke waft into the air and fill the thick silence with its odor, the sweet smell of daisies and poppies on his hat was blanketed under a smokey curtain.

“You’ve become quite the deity, haven’t you,” she settled herself on the ground under his tree, her voice rising into the air as if caught by a breeze and sailed up to his perch.

“You couldn’t have done anything for me, could you?” It was a statement, not a question.

“No. I can’t raise a spirit. Those children are all demigods and I enjoy watching them grow, but you aren’t a demigod. You won’t grow like them.”

“Little My?”

“Is like them, and so is my eldest. You’re one of a kind, Snufkin.” A sigh left her lips and it was as if the whole forest took a breath of fresh air. The leaves seemed greener, the air fresher, and the gentle sweetness of the most fragrant flora, of soft sweet peas and mysterious wisteria, star-light jasmine and plump gardenias. It was as if spring came back once more for another round. Snufkin looked down from his perch and saw The Mymble as she truly is- a goddess of spring.

Flowers bloomed and died in her hair, petals dripped like soft snow onto her shoulders and the green grass that’s sprouted out around her. The collar of fur was replaced with a wreath of greenery and flowers oozing their sweet scent, her coat was now a shifting robe that seemed to have been woven from the silkiest petals. She looked up to where Snufkin lounged in the tree, her round face glowing with light only one not of this world can possess.

Snufkin lifted his robe of glamour, the scruffy Snufkin in a coat too old to count the years of and boots worn to the thinnest soles were replaced by his robes of shimmering green. His hat bloomed all sorts of flowers, from the smallest, palest buds to the brightest, largest petals. He descended from the tree with a graceful leap, draped in spring nature, falling far too high to be safe and landed gently on the freshly grown grass, his bare feet hitting the cool blades.

“What of The Joxter, my father?” Snufkin asked.

“A minor god, the personification of a lazy summer day,” she nodded. “It’s why you reign strongest in the spring and summer where the flowers bloom brightest and the sun is the warmest. You spend your days idly and freely, amongst the root of trees and grassy meadows and wherever you go, you bring spring with you.”

She looked up where he stood before him. Even sitting, he was only barely taller than her. “You need to leave earlier than that, my son. I heard from the Moomins you hang around here through the autumn. That can harm you, and it can harm the balance of nature.”

“I know.”

“Then leave as soon as the trees start to shudder and the flowers start to grow smaller. You need to bring your music to the south where the sun sits high in the sky.”

“I will.”

Her eyes narrowed, unbelieving of him. Towers of delphiniums started growing around her, pale blue and pink trumpets of flowers unraveling and reaching for their sun, their spring goddess. Pops of tiny daisies sprung at their feet and brushed up against Snufkin’s bare ankles. “You will. I don’t know if you know this, but if you linger too long in one place, you may perish.”

“I know.” He was starting to sound like a broken record, skipping over select words that would appease his mother. But he knew, he understood the risk of staying too close to winter in Moominvalley. He did it once before because Moomintroll asked him to stay until the winter solstice for their feast so he won’t miss him too terribly when he left. He was ill then, and could barely touch his food, and almost didn’t make it out of Moominvalley before the snow started to really come down. Moomintroll has tried since then to have him stay a little longer, sighing loudly, despondently, into the autumn air. He caved and stayed, and he almost died.

“Don’t do it again. For each time you do, you will grow weaker faster.”

A shout of his named echoed through the forest. A flock of birds rose from the trees and scattered into the orange horizon, the sun swallowed by the midnight blue.

Moomintroll rounded the corner and spotted Snufkin. “There you are! Are you alright? You disappeared during the party.”

“I’m okay, just a little overwhelmed with the number of people,” Snufkin said.

“Oh wow! These are gorgeous!”

The Mymble had disappeared, leaving the patch of jewel-green grass and the stocks of delphiniums at the base of the tree. Snufkin had dropped his glamour back on, his boots crushing the grass and the daisies on his hat matched the ones by Moomin’s feet. Moomintroll did not see a thing. “Aren’t they lovely? They’re called delphinium.”

“They are.” Moomin picked a couple of little daisies and stuck them in the wreath of flowers on Snufkin’s hat. “Do you want to be alone right now?”

Snufkin shook his head. “We can go to the beach and take a walk. I’m just tired of the party.”

Moomintroll’s eyes lit up, a mischevious sparkle that seemed a little too excited for a simple moonlit stroll on the beach.

“Can I show you something instead?”

---

They stole a lantern from the party when no one was looking and traipsed up the forest path. Snufkin realized it was the direction Moomintroll had been sneaking off too for months now.

“What do you want to show me?” Snufkin prodded.

“It’s a surprise.” Moomintroll was practically vibrating.

They reached a bend in the trail and Moomintroll went off the path, over a bushel of bright, yellow yarrow, and down a secret worn path that wound through the trees. He suddenly stopped at the base of a sturdy oak tree. He pushed aside some broken branches piled up at the bottom and revealed a rope ladder dangling down the side of the tree.

“What is this, Moomintroll?” Snufkin asked. He looked up and between the thick branches he could make out wooden boards.

“I built us a secret base,” Moomintroll said, his voice barely able to contain his excitement. “I read a book about spies having secret bases hidden in plain sight, where they can meet and plot their next missions. I thought it would be cool if we had a secret place, too.”

“Oh, Moomintroll, it’s fantastic.” Snufkin’s heart swelled with something warm. A moment of fear iced his veins, that this was Moomintroll asking him to stay forever, but this was a treehouse, a place for them alone and not an actual house. He needn’t read too deeply into the meaning of all this.

“Let’s go, let’s go! You haven’t even seen the best of it yet!” Moomintroll ushered him up the ladder. It took them through a square hole cut out of a wooden platform, buried in the oak branches and green leaves. There was no way someone could see this place from below, and with the thick tree coverage, it was hard to see it coming from the forest path unless someone was looking for it.

The house was a simple box that was morphed around a sturdy branch. The door was a little high off the ground, and there were curtains patterned with summer yellow sunflowers (definitely Moominmamma’s work). The cabin was small, a little rickety for comfort, but Snufkin adored it. The little chairs at the table, a basket of snacks, a worn map from Moominpappa, a bouquet of small sunflowers and pale purple cosmos sat in a vase Snufkin remembered Moomintroll made when he was briefly into pottery, the sides bumpy with paw marks and the smear of bright blues made it personal. Moomin lit the oil lamp on the table and filled the small space with a wonderful warm glow. The blue light left from the twilight was chased away with the golden candlelight.

“This is wonderfully cozy,” Snufkin said as he settled down into one of the chairs. He peaked out from behind the window curtain and could see the main forest path between the branches of their tree. “Perfect for spying, but I’m afraid at night someone will see our light.”

“Then we’ll have to be extra careful and only come when everyone’s asleep,” Moomintroll said. He took the seat across from Snufkin and pulled out a book from a box under the table. “Let me show you the book that inspired me to make this!”

---

Little My bobbed through the tall stocks of gladiolus, a bundle held in her small arms. With her size, it was as if she was carrying lumber, not pink and yellow flowers. She emerged from the stocks and ran full sprint toward Moominhouse, where Moominmamma was trimming the stems of gladiolus and placing them in long vases.

“Thank you, Little My, that will be plenty for now,” Moominmamma said kindly, taking the new bundle from Little My. “Can you deliver this vase to Mrs. Fillyjonk?” She handed Little My a vase almost as tall as her with a spry of artfully arranged flowers, a red bow tied around the slim neck of the bottle.

“Sure thing! Don’t get mad if I spill!” Little My leaped from the porch and teetered down the walkway toward Mrs. Fillyjonk’s house, the water sloshing dangerously in the vase and her arms burned but she refused to put it down.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a Moomintroll-white shape flitter in the corner of her eye. She quietly placed the vase down on the side of the road and scanned the treeline where she saw it.

There! Darting between the trees was Moomintroll, his own armload of gladiolus flowers clutched close to his chest, the red pedals bobbing with his steps. The flowers won’t die if they waited out in the sun for a bit, Little My thought to herself and ran after him.

She stayed far enough away he wouldn’t be able to hear him, but close enough to keep him within sight. They wound through the trees, going off and on trails and pushing through bushes. He stopped suddenly at the bank of a river, a waterfall feeding into the quickly moving water. Snufkin sat at the shore, a bucket next to him and his fishing rod posed in his hand. Branches of green leaves and fern dripped from his hat, the single white dahlia poking from the side was like a beacon amongst the green. Moomintroll came up behind him and plucked a bud of red gladiolus and stuck it in his hat brim. The roar of the waterfall hid their words and Little My scooted closer to catch what they were talking about.

She heard “secret base” and lost face. She hopped from behind the bush and shouted, “And what are you two up to?!”

Moomintroll jumped in surprise and Snufkin turned and tipped his hat in greeting. “Little My, hello.”

“Hello to you, too. What are you talking about?” She asked again.

Moomintroll seemed to be sweating under all his fur, his eyes darting everywhere but Little My. “Nothing much, I wanted to show Snufkin the flowers you and Mamma picked.” Liar.

She tried again, badgering them for good answers, but she only got vague remarks. She got bored, as Moomintroll was giving Snufkin big cow eyes as he fished and Snufkin kept sneaking longing glances at Moomintroll when he wasn’t looking. It was sickening and she couldn’t take it. She left to go finish delivering the flowers

---

Moomin realized that he harbored warm feelings for Snufkin when the sun was at its hottest. Snufkin had stripped to his trousers and worn shirt, the white so faded it was threadbare at the hems and elbows. They splashed around a creek where a willow tree traced its surface, stocks of violet irises waved in the warm, summer breeze and spots of petunias reached for the water. It was a picturesque sight of them chasing frogs in the moving water, tripping over stray stones and tangled in weeds. The cool water felt great in Moomin’s heated skin, his fur thinned for the summer but it wasn’t enough to cool him from the hot sun. Snufkin had a peeling sunburn on his nose, new freckles sprang up across his cheeks and the back of his hands and for a second Moomin wanted to kiss them.

The shock of realization hit him as if Little My dumped ice-cold lemonade over his head. He froze in the creek, the water splashing at his waist as he stared wide-eyed at Snufkin floating on the surface, eyes closed and absorbing the sun peeking through the willow branches and warming the water. Moomin’s heart leaped in his throat and caught his tongue in a stranglehold. Never in his life had he wanted to hold someone’s paw so much.

---

The Moomins shielded themselves from the midsummer sun under their balcony, with Moominappa taking up residence in the hammock with a book over his face to muffle his snores. Snufkin sat on the railing cleaning his harmonica while Moomintroll sat next to him with a book of his own. From where they sat, a breeze hit them just right. Moominmamma was nearby repairing one of Little My’s dresses with a rather large hole in the hem. The little monster herself laid sprawled out on the porch, sweat dampening her hairline and shooting glances and Moomintroll and Snufkin.

Snufkin let his eyes follow her glances where Moomintroll was posed reading a book, one of pirates and seascape adventures. The sun hit his fur where the shade couldn’t shield him, haloing him in a white glow and Snufkin’s heart stuttered in his chest.

Moomintroll chose that moment to look and he smiled at Snufkin, his eyes glittered with mirth from what Snufkin suspects is from a silly part in his novel. He winked at Snufkin and went back to reading.

Little My snorted when Snufkin turned his back to the porch so no one could see his red cheeks.

---

Snufkin found himself napping amongst hydrangeas. They grew off the side of one spot on the road and their fragrant shade was ideal for a mid-afternoon nap. It was August, and the heat was reaching to the point of unbearable. The day before he and the Moomins wore themselves out on their own seascape adventure when they took the boat out. He could still smell the lingering salt and sand on his skin, a smell that won’t go away until summer is gone beyond the horizons.

He heard familiar footsteps coming down a road, a gait he had memorized by heart. Moomintroll caught sight of his boots sticking out of the flowers and crawled under the bush to join him.

“Hullo, Snufkin,” Moomintroll greeted. “Do you mind if I join you? The sun is very harsh right now and it smells wonderful in this shade.”

“Be my guest.” Snufkin patted the spot next to him. It was a tight fit within the sturdy branches and pom poms of pastel flowers, but Snufkin didn’t mind. He could never mind being so close to Moomintroll.

It was peaceful between them, or that’s what Snufkin wanted to say. He was enjoying the air between them, warm and fragrant. It was Moomintroll who seemed to not be able to settle down. He was tense, kept shifting in his spot.

Unable to take it, Snufkin pokes. “What’s the matter, Moomintroll?”

“I want this to last forever,” Moomintroll spoke in a rush, a crack in the dam.

“Well, summer can’t last forever. Soon it will be autumn and I’ll have to leave again, but don’t worry, I’ll always be back,” Snufkin soothed. “Then we can have a whole new spring together.”

“No, not that. It’s-“ Moomintroll gulped and sat up as far as he could with a wide branch of spade leaves in his way. He looked down over at Snufkin. “I don’t want us to change.”

“People are always changing, but we can change together.” Snufkin was admittedly a little confused where Moomintroll’s train of thought was going. He thought they’ve discussed this in-depth?

His heart lit up, fluttered in his chest in hope. He crushed it underfoot.

Moomintroll gulped. “I don’t mean it like that. I’m… I…”

Snufkin waited patiently. He sat up, too, and gripped the brim of his hat in his lap.

“I don’t know how to say this but I need to say this to you Snufkin, but I don’t want ya to change apart, can we still be friends?” Moomintroll looked anywhere but at Snufkin.

“Of course I’ll stay by your side,” Snufkin agreed easily. It was the easiest yet hardest thing he could do.

“Snufkin,” Moomintroll took a deep breath, steadying himself and pulled his gaze to meet Snufkin’s. “I love you so much, I want to stay with you, and you stay with me. I love you like Mamma and Pappa love each other, and if you don’t- don’t feel the same way, that’s okay! As long as we can be friends that’s more than enough for me.”

There was a stutter in Snufkin’s heartbeat at Moomintrolls confession.

“You don’t have to respond, we don’t have to change,” Moomintroll continued. “I needed you to know that before I exploded.”

“What if I want it to change?” Snufkin asked. His heart felt so light, pounding a rhythm into his chest. Before Moomintroll could respond, a look of pain crossing his face, Snufkin said, “What if I want us to be together, too… if you would have me?” He felt… he didn’t know how to voice his love for Moomintroll, he never thought he would ever. He wasn’t prepared.

Moomintroll’s eyes filled with starlight, a smile graced his face so wide and happy Snufkin silently filed away that memory forever. “I would love to,” Moomintroll said.

They held hands, something they’ve done countless times before, but this time it had a whole new meaning.

---

The summer heat got hotter and drier as the season progressed, the riverbed dried out and only the sturdiest flora could withstand the waves of heat. Grass shriveled to brown crisps and Moominmamma’s roses were nothing but bare stumps. In this, like everyone else in Moominvalley, Snufkin found himself dozing off more often than not. With a heat this intense, it left the air dizzy with sleep.

As Moomintroll and Snufkin would be considered officially together, they hardly strayed from each other’s sides. Their honeymoon phase, as Moominmamma called it. Despite how desperately Snufkin wanted to cuddle up to Moomintroll’s soft chest and sleep the day away under the bridge, the heat wouldn’t allow him to go closer than a few inches from Moomintroll. At night, when the air cooled to a more bearable warmth, not nearly cool enough to wear his jacket again but less like he needed to peel his skin off too, they would watch fireflies dance amongst the midnight blue or simply relax on the beach where the waves pounded their stories into the sand.

Snufkin tried not to think of the coming autumn, how the sunflowers were growing less frequently and the air lost the summer touch.

---

As if summoned, or perhaps sent by a certain spring goddess, Snufkin received a visitor on the last day of summer.

The summer left him weak and found that naps helped. Napping in flowers helped a lot. He laid in a grove of lavender brush, the first of the upcoming season and a final goodbye from summer. Their soothing smell lulled him into a deep sleep and he wondered if Moomintroll has seen this yet.

A crunch of footsteps through hard dirt and the sage leaves of the lavender brought Snufkin out of his stupor. Sleepily, he sat up and put his hat back on, the top adorned with more of the lavender stocks and sweet asters Moomintroll had found for him. A figure framed by the too-bright sun shaded his vision.

“Hello, may I help you with something?”

“I’m your dad and your mother sent me to make sure you’re getting ready to leave,” this person, The Joxter, said.

To see both his parents within the span of one season, how fortunate Snufkin must be. The Joxter was as Moominpappa described him to be, his eyes were a piercing blue and his olive coat had seen better days, the hat on his head was similar to Snufkin’s except red and looped through the cord around the brim were dandelions. From the pipe hanging from his lips and the calm disposition, Snufkin was a little unnerved by the similarities between them.

“It’s too early, tell her I’ll leave when it’s properly time,” Snufkin said.

The Joxter’s eyes narrowed. He took a deep breath of his pipe and puffed out a ring of smoke. “Okay.”

Snufkin was taken aback. “Okay?”

“Yeah.” He plopped down next to Snufkin and leaned back, his hat tilted down to shield his face. “I don’t care. You’re a grown man. She never took interest in you before now, so I don’t know what her concern is.”

The remark sort of hurt, but it was the hard truth. “Is she trying to change herself?”

“Not likely. I think she doesn’t want her only god kid to die out because he liked hanging out with the Moomins. Don’t worry, I do too. Your little boyfriend’s dad and I go way back.” His voice was muffled by his hat, the pipe lifted lazily in the air as he tapped out the ashes without care.

Snufkin stared down at him unsure of where to go from there. “They’re good, the Moomins.”

“Yeah, lay down kid, take a nap with me, then let’s go eat some of Moominmamma’s delicious food.” The Joxter patted Snufkin’s spot, the dent still in the grass where Snufkin had been laying.

He complied and found it odd to be having a cat nap with his dad out of the blue, a man he has never met before this moment. A god-like him who chose to spend his days idly, and suddenly he didn’t find it so weird so similar they were.

-----

AN: see Snufkin here!

#moom #moominvalley #the moomins #snufkin #snufmin #springdove #fic #hng

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inevitably-johnlocked · 7 years

Note

Hello wonderful human being. I need Johnlock fluff. But real HARDCORE fluff with butterfly kisses and caring about each other. Do you have any fics with this many fluff?

Hi Lovely!!

I’m actually in the process of doing a Johnlock Mega Fluff Fic Rec List; it’s the third most recced list after Angst and sick!fics, LOL. Currently, I actually do have some Fluff Fic Lists already posted:

Tooth Rotting Fluff

Funny and Fluffy Stories

The Speckled Blonde / BedSharing

BedSharing Pt. 2 and Insecure Sherlock

So you can start with those!

Actually, you know what? Perhaps I can give you a preview of some of the fics on that list, plus additions I’ve had since to the Tooth Rotting Fluff section, since it’s gonna be too big anyway to post all the links anyway. Note that I’m no where near done, but here’s hoping you find something you like! Let’s pick a super soft section…

HUGS, CUDDLES and KISSES

Sherlock Doesn’t Like Summer Nights by sherrinholmes (T, 337 w. || Fluff) – “Isn’t it considered normal and wise to remove layers when one finds one’s self overheating?” Sherlock threw the shirt into some dark corner of the room and began working on the drawstring of his pyjama trousers.

Too Much by belovedmuerto (T, 567 w. || Empath John) – Sometimes, it’s too much for John.

This Kiss by suitesamba (T, 731 w. || Humour, Drunkenness, Angst, Stag Night) – Stag Night - back at 221B - in a world where Mrs. Hudson doesn’t interrupt the guessing game with the client. Part 1 of The “This” Series

Cuddling by GraciousK (Ao3, G, 1107 w. || Angst/Cuddling/Hypothermia) - John finds Sherlock and he’s delirious. John saves Sherlock, semi-happy ending.

In Dreams by Youarethelightoftheworld (T, 1,339 w. || Fluff, Cuddling & Snuggling, Accidental Cuddles, Domestic Fluff) – Every once and a while, the dark makes it easier to see.

Battle of Bakerloo by bendingsignpost (G, 1,494 w. || Cuddles, Clingy Sherlock, Fluff, Snuggles) – The change had occurred, John had accepted it, and when Sherlock had asked, “You don’t mind, do you?”, John had answered, “No, of course not.” In hindsight, an obvious mistake.

Apologies by Sherlock Holmes by ad0rably_0rdinary (G, 1,549 w. || Fluff, Worried Sherlock, Cuddles) – Sherlock sends John off with harsh words, and Sally points out that if he keeps it up, John could leave him. Worried Sherlock ensues, and he blunders his way into a cuddly apology.

Tangential by Bitenomnom (NR, 2,047 w. || Fluff, Love, Nightmares, Cuddling, Ace!Sherlock) – …In which John stitches up Sherlock’s head (but not really), Sherlock comes into John’s room at night to take his laptop (but not really), Sherlock is married to his Work (but not really), and John is more than proficient at keeping Sherlock (really, definitely). Part 48 of Mathematical Proof

Assurance by belovedmuerto (T, 2,382 w. || Bed-Sharing, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Idiots in Love) – It’s not so much the ‘you’re half-dead, you wanker,’ or even the broken ribs, the hairline fracture of the pelvis, the dislocated shoulder and knee, and the wrenched ankle.

Eight Letters, One Word by beesandjam (G, 2,520 w || Cuddles and Snuggles, Domestic Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles) – Once Sherlock finds some place comfy, there’s no waking him.

it’s in the details by kimbiablue (T, 3,272 w. || Fluff, First Kiss, Pining Idiots) – Sherlock and John meet with a forensic artist to determine how capable they are able to describe each other. In which John struggles to adequately describe Sherlock Holmes, and also thinks about his lips a lot.

Water Is Another Matter by cathedral_carver (T, 3,903 w. || Pining, First Kiss) – He thinks it’s in trouble, his poor heart.

One Day Like This by nondeducible (E, 4,872 w. || First Time, Bed-Sharing, Romance, Fluff, Virgin Sherlock) – When Sherlock emerged from the bathroom, the sight before him nearly took his breath away. The only light in the room was the small lamp on the bedside table. John’s skin shone like gold, his hair like the purest silver. He was on his side, facing the empty part of the bed, his outstretched hands ready to embrace whoever climbed in next to him. Sherlock could imagine, just for a second, that this was their shared bed and he was coming back to settle into John’s arms.

Bed-Sharing Between Flatmates by testosterone_tea (T, 5,053 w. || 5 and Ones, Bed Sharing, PTSD John, Science, Whump, Insecure Sherlock) – 5 times Sherlock had an excuse to share John’s bed, and the one time he didn’t need one.

To Sleep, Perchance to Smother Your Flatmate with a Pillow by Linpatootie (G, 5,308 w. || Bedsharing, Fluff) - Sherlock wants to conduct a sleep study of sorts. John contemplates smothering him with a pillow. Part 1 of Two Coffees One Black One with Sugar Please (this whole series is amazing, and I love it so much).

the lingering taste of orange juice by darcylindbergh (G, 5,824 w. || Pining Sherlock, Fluff, Miscommunications, Humour) – Sherlock felt the familiar heat surge in his abdomen again at the touch: hope strung taut between head and heart as in all the quiet moments between them, when Sherlock sometimes got the clues all mixed up and thought maybe John felt something too. For once, Sherlock is the idiot.

You’re a Doctor, Fix me by edken (G, 8,342 w. || Sickfic, Fluff / Cuddling) – Sherlock doesn’t do anything halfway, and that includes getting sick. John nurses a very sick flatmate back to health using cuddles, forehead kisses, and a massage. Humor and fluff promised this time, but also some character analysis because who doesn’t love that?

A Terrific Soporific by antietamfalls (T, 11,269 w. || Bed Sharing, Sleepy Cuddles, Fluff, Insomnia, Experiments) – Sherlock, a long-time sufferer of insomnia, is forced to share a bed with John at a hotel while on a case. To his astonishment, he finds that spending the night next to John helps him sleep and becomes determined to maneuver himself back into John’s bed.

Solace Series by CKLizzy (T to E, 21,515 w across 5 stories || Cuddling & Snuggling, H/C, Nightmares) – An Experiment - how long can you keep two characters physically and emotionally close without their relationship turning into a sexual one? Sees the development of John and Sherlock’s relationship from their bedroom’s perspective (no, don’t worry, there will NOT be a talking bedroom in the story).

Knotted by naughtyspirit (E, 23,166 w. || UST/URT, Cuddling, Sharing Body Heat, Confessions, Kissing, Mastrubation, Frustration, BAMF!John) – John has to cancel a date because of Sherlock’s case, which leads them to be tied up in a basement from which they have to escape. They get wet, get tied up close and John has to step up and save them. Because he’s pretty. And hot. And just a little bit of a BAMF.

a good old-fashioned happy ending by darcylindbergh (E, 32,731 w. || Christmas, Frottage, Comfort, Est. Rel., Fluff, Insecure Sherlock) – For Christmas this year, Sherlock wants to get John something special: something every fairytale deserves. Part 2 of things fairy tales are made of

A Love with No Name Series by aceofhearts61 (M, 49,955 w. across 20 fics || Ace!Sherlock / Straight!John, Queerplatonic Relationship, Cuddling/Snuggling, Soulmates, Caretaking, Platonic Romance) – In which Asexual!Sherlock and Straight!John are platonically in love life partners.

TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF (Pt. 2)

Conversations With Idiots by scullyseviltwin (T, 1,744 w || Complete Idiots, Love Confessions, Fluff) – A huge gust of breath comes rushing out of John’s lungs as he steels himself, checks his resolve, and then, “I’m… I’m gone on you.”

John Was Nice Like That by hannah_baker (T, 1,307 w. || Est. Rel., Fluff, Body Worship, John’s Bum) – Sherlock Holmes may not ever sleep, but that hasn’t prevented him from having a kip on the couch with John.

here’s to love (here’s to us) by trustingno1 (G, 1,309 w. || Weddings, Fluff, Best Man Speech) – “I suggested that he ask Greg,” John says, “to which he replied, ‘Who?’,” and Greg pushes back from the table, exasperated. “I then made the mistake of suggesting his brother, to which Sherlock enumerated twenty-three reasons that that was a terrible idea.” (John’s best man speech at Sherlock’s wedding).

Through A Glass by Mildredandbobbin (M, 2,012 w. || Voyeurism, Masturbation, First Kiss) – There is an adjoining door in the bathroom at 221B that leads into Sherlock’s bedroom. The door, from the bathroom to Sherlock’s bedroom, is made of three glass, semi-opaque panels. It has suddenly come to Sherlock’s attention that if he stands in exactly the right spot in his bedroom he can see through said panels, and more to the point, can see John.

It Wasn’t Just the Mistletoe by Irrevocably_Sherlocked (E, 3,593 w. || Christmas Fluff, Mistletoe, First Kiss / Time, Frottage, Masturbation) – Sherlock and John just stood there, seemingly frozen. Sherlock was desperately trying to think of a way out of this. There was no way he could kiss John, even a small kiss, and not have him know immediately how he felt. Sherlock could lie, and fake and sham, but there was no way he could hide this.

Everything by patternofdefiance (E, 4,409 w. || Snuggles and Cuddles, Bed Sharing, Frottage, Vulnerable Sherlock) – John wakes up with an armful of Sherlock.This – situation – is unusual, yes, and definitely unfamiliar, but in no way does it feel wrong.Rather, it feels the exact opposite. Part 13 of I Blame Tumblr

Telling the Bees by siennna (G, 5,174 w. || Fluff, Beekeeping, POV Sherlock, Love Confessions) – It took a beat of silence for the words to settle in, before both of them realized what John said. “You—” Sherlock started. “I—” John said at the same time. “Love me? You love me?” Sherlock asked faintly. Part 3 of sienna’s favorites

all things warm and tender by darcylindbergh (E, 5,177 w. || PWP, Romantic Fluff, Rimming/Anal/BJ’s, Body Worship) – Grinning and giggling, John slides back down under the sheet and pulls it over his head. He finds Sherlock waiting for him, eyes bright and hair wild, the firelight bleeding through the thin fabric, colouring everything in soft peach and topaz, and in that moment he is so suddenly, unexpectedly, ethereally beautiful that John forgets how to breathe.

Problematic by MrsNoggin (E, 6,164 w. || First Time / Kiss, Oral Fixation, Obsessed Sherlock) – Sherlock really wants to ask John something. Only, he’s not sure what…

#darjeelinglove #steph replies #johnlock fic recs #johnlock fluff #tooth rotting fluff #hugs and cuddles #my fic recs

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swissmissficrecs · 7 years

Link

Word count: 67,077 Chapters: 17/17 Fandom: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes & Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes & Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes & John Watson, Greg Lestrade & John Watson, James Sholto/John Watson Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Mycroft Holmes, Mrs. Hudson (Sherlock Holmes), Greg Lestrade Additional Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Illness, Injury, Sickfic, Guilt, The Three Garridebs, Iceland, If waxing dramatic was an Olympic sport Sherlock would win the gold medal, PTSD, Mycroft being a good big brother, Depression, nice rugged highland scenery, Pining, developing johnlock, John Whump, which is a nice change to all the terrible things I tend to put Sherlock through, Tentative johnlock, Unrequited Love, Slow Burn, John's past, Medical Realism, angst like whoa Summary:

John getting injured leads Sherlock on a path of guilt and revelations.

======

Rec: Sherlock angsts extensively, John is stoic, little in the way of communication takes place, and yet somehow they end up closer than ever before. This never quite crosses the line between more-than-friends and romantic partners, or maybe there was never a line to be crossed at all. The best part of this for me was seeing inside Sherlock’s head as he tries to make sense of and deal with this very unfamiliar thing called sentiment -- and quite possibly love. With Mycroft taking a very fun turn in the role of caring brother, Iceland’s geography playing havoc with rescue plans, John in Sherlock’s bed, and a Danish cab driver who knows full well what the score is.

#j_baillier #50k+#sickfic #pining #travel #angst #50k

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camsthisky · 7 years

Note

Can you rec any stories?

Oh boy. You better strap in, because I have read a lot of fics. Most of these will probably be Dick Grayson centric, though, so just a fair warning. I’ve seen a couple people format fic recs like this, and I really like it. I hope it’s organized enough!

Of course, you can always go through my fic recs tag, too!

The Bonds that Tie by DawnsEternalLight Words: 59,507 (between 2 fics)Summary: A series exploring the Batfamily growing closer together.My Comments: Absolutely amazing and heart wrenching. The first fic in thisseries is finished, which is a lot more about Dick and Damian’s relationship,but the second is still ongoing, which is more about Jason and Tim. It’s a wonderfulseries!

To Pass Through This Night by DawnsEternalLightWords: 4,147Summary: When Dick was captured by the Syndicate he died, for a short period of time, but he still died. It’s a fact he kept from his closest friends and family to protect them. When Damian and Tim find out he has to face not only them, but the emotions he’s buried from the event.My Comments: It’s a forever evil fic. Like, you don’t even know how much Ilove this, especially because it involves the whole family’s feelings, not justDick’s.

Even When You’re Down by DawnsEternalLightWords: 4,628Summary: Jason is expecting pizza at his door, not a very sick Dick Grayson. When he can’t figure out what’s wrong with his brother he turns to the only person he can, Bruce.My Comments: Ahhh I love sickfics so much, and this one did not disappoint!Jason and Bruce coming together to care for Dick was amazing to read! To be honest, @preciousthingsareprecious‘s fics are all amazing, and I’ve read so many of Dawn’s works. These are just my absolute favorites!

Stubborn by audreycritter Words: 20,359 (4/4)Summary: Dick is usually the one taking care of everyone else and he’s bad at asking for help.So bad, in fact, that he never even actually asks– but Jason shows up anyway.And then Dick returns the favor. And then they both do for Tim. And it’s just going to keep going from there.It’s probably Alfred’s fault. When your butler mom calls and says, “Go check on your brother,” you don’t argue. You just do it.My Comments: The first chapter absolutely killed me. It’s a sickfic, witheach chapter focusing on a different batkid. It’s so well written, and it’s oneof my all time favorites!

The Mechanics of a Hug by incogneat-oh Words: 4,154Summary: “So,” Tim ventures. “It's… what, a cuddle pollen?” Bruce just shrugs. “Something like that.” My Comments: It’s funny, it’s angsty, the dialogue is absolutelyamazing, and I would recommend this author’s fics (all of them, really) a thousand times over. This one is just my absolute favorite that I’ve read a bajillion times.

World’s Apart by Fernandidilly_yo Words: 37,169 (3/?)Summary: Dick’s world is falling apart. With all the heroes and Batman gone, the teen thinks this is the end, that is until Dick miraculously end up in an Alternet Universe where the world is whole and there’s a family waiting for him.My Comments: This is an AU that absolutely BREAKS MY HEART. There’s so much description and it’s such an amazing story. It has a lot of potential, and besides the occasional typos/spelling errors, it’s probably one of the best I’ve ever read. I’m looking forward to more!

Locked Away by AutumnHobbit Words: 3,021Summary: anonymous asked: would you consider writing dick being asked to empty jasons locker at school after jason dies?

“Uh, Wayne residence,” he said, cringing after the fact at how hoarse his voice sounded. He scrubbed a hand over his eyes in frustration.“Um, hello. Is, um….” the female voice trailed off hesitantly. “Is Mr. Wayne available at the moment?”“I’m afraid not,” Dick said, trying harder to channel his inner Alfred. “Can I take a message?”“…Yes,” the woman said. “It’s….well, it pertains to his son, Jason.”My Comments: THIS IS SO SAD. I still love it, because it shows a side of Dick that we don’t see often. We see Dick happy around his family, angry, frantic, but never this grieving boy mourning the loss of a brother, and it’s heartbreaking. There are a lot more quality fics by this author, as well.

there is a design, an alignment by irnanWords: 584Summary: Dick’s just had brain surgery. No wonder it hurts.My Comments: This is so sweet. But, of course, Bruce can only seem to show affection to his kids when they’re hurt or unconscious.

exactly how this grace thing works by irnanWords: 22,710Summary: Dick gets de-aged. You’d think this would be a routine thing.My Comments: Honestly, this is the fic that convinced me to stay in the fandom. It’s the fic that I will always aspire to write, quality wise. It’s an amazing piece about a de-aged Dick learning to accept the family that’s suddenly thrust onto him, and his family, in turn, learn things about him that they didn’t know before. The whole fic is amazing.

Who We Were by ZiZzyWords: 105,025 (33/?)Summary: When the Graysons fell their son went to his great-uncle to be trained as a Talon. Four years later he is rescued and taken to live at Wayne Manor. But, he is not the talkative boy he once was, in fact talking at all is a bit of a problem… A series of connected oneshots about how the Batfamily is formed when the older brother is not quite who he was meant to be.The timeline of each chapter is in the A/Ns.My Comments: It’s a little hard to get used to this fic, since most of them are read like one-shots in the same AU, but this fic destroyed me. Dick is so adorable, and he’s going through so much, and Bruce is so understanding. The last couple of chapters had me in tears.

Half Lost, Half Found by takadainmateWords: 23,632 (4/5)Summary: Driven underground, Batman fights to keep Nightwing alive. There is a fight. There’s always a fight.My Comments: I always recommend this story, but it’s amazing. There’s a lot of tension between Dick and Bruce, but they have to work together in order to survive. Sadly, this fic hasn’t been updated since 2013, but it’s only the last chapter that’s missing. It’s still a great story, even without it.

Family is a Crisis by LysicalWords: 4,172Summary: In their family there’s always some sort of crisis going on.“Probably a fashion crisis,” Jason muttered. “He probably dragged us all here so he could show off some chartreuse and fuchsia monstrosity.” “You aren’t making a new costume again, are you?” Damian added, nose wrinkling. “I thought we all agreed you were staying away from colors.”My Comments: This fic is hilarious.Seriously, as much as I wish Tim was in it, too, it is the perfect sequel to the one scene at the burger joint in Batman #16.

Grade School by KagSesshloveWords: 100,098 (13 fics)Summary:Imagine that Damian goes to a regular school full time. And has to do things that normal grade-schoolers have to do. This is his life now: pretending to be a normal 10 year old at school all for the sake of the public. But, honestly, the public would rather he not.My Comments: When I first found this fic, I think I started screaming at @stepichu to read it, too, I was so excited. I think I actually read it twice in one week? Please read this entire series. It’s hilarious and serious and just plain amazing. Sometimes the characterizations are a little exaggerated, but I still love it. It totally adds to the story! And the best part is that it was just completed!

the man with guns for eyes by 8swordWords: 22,056Summary: “Don’t blame him, little D. He gave me a choice.” “He always makes it a choice,” Damian mutters. “If you’re the one who makes the decision, it’s your fault if it’s the wrong one.” (Dick comes back from the dead.)My Comments: Hm. Okay, on the one hand I really like reading this fic, because the boys are all forced to talk to each other and try to work things out. On the other hand, sometimes this fic leaves me reeling. There’s a lot to get through in one sitting, and sometimes I have to break it up.

With Friends Like These by ChimaeraKittenWords: 4141Summary: How Artemis got to know both Dick Grayson and Robin before finding out they were the same person. My Comments: This is a YJ fic, but it’s really good. Like, I didn’t know I needed Artemis getting to know Dick Grayson so badly until I read this. There are also some other really good fics by @chimaerakitten, but this one is one that I fell in love with.

Crowded Enough by CaraLeeWords: 18,744 (15/?)Summary: An AU built off of the titular line from the pilot episodes of Young Justice. Dick Grayson comes home from the events at CADMUS to the enjoyment of his various siblings, friends, and sibling-like people. Now extended: One chapter per episode of the first season. Plus a few extras.My Comments: I love this so much. Each chapter is gold.

Save You by ArsenicInYourPuddingWords: 6538 (4/4)Summary: The three times Wally West made sure Dick Grayson lived to fight another day, and the one time he didn’t have to.My Comments: Warnings for suicidal thoughts/actions. The bromance between Dick and Wally in this is amazing, and this fic got me through some tough times. The whole thing always has my crying by the end, no matter how many times I read it.

That’s just on ao3, and it’s getting really late, so I needed to shorten this a bit. I will say that you’re welcome to look through my bookmarks on ao3 and my story favs on ff.net if you’re looking for more. There are a lot of amazing fics out there that I didn’t mention. I probably will come back to update this sooner or later.

edit because I don’t know how I forgot these:

Interval of Shadow by CaramelMacheteWords: 41,403 (15/?)Summary: Nightwing, Robin and Red Robin take on Clayface. Nightwing does not emerge unscathed.Is this the end of Nightwing’s career? How will the rest of family react? Will Dick recover, and what should he do if he can’t?My Comments: My goodness, this fic is honest to god amazing. It shows the struggle Dick goes through and how his family scrambles to be there for him. The interactions between everyone is so spot on, and if you haven’t read this, read it. And then come scream at me or @caramelmachete about it.

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by anon_nom_nomWords: 3,614Summary: Prompt from yj_anon_meme:Okay, so I always thought that the reason DCAU Dick turned into such a bitter little thing was because he only ever had Batman, and sometimes Batgirl, but he never had his Titans or his Wally or anything.So I would like so see something where Robin is starting to show early warning signs of this, maybe just frustration after a really bad night on the job in Gotham with Batman, and him actually having his team there to help him deal with it.In which Robin has a bad night, discusses poetry, and gets a massage.My Comments: This is a YJ fic that shows the struggle that Dick goes through as a partner of Batman, and I find it super realistic. It’s really fluffy with a hint of light angst, and all of the characters are spot on.

Fear by tristen84Words: 18,622 (6/6)Summary: While on a stake-out together, Robin and Kid Flash have a frightening run-in with Scarecrow. Dick-Wally friendship.My Comments: Another YJ fic. If you want Wally and Dick bromance, like, this is the fic. It’s a really good story, too, and it shows just how much both Dick and Wally care for each other. It’s a good read.

I’m probably still forgetting some, but these are all amazing, too, and please check them out!

#cam answers #anonymous #fic recs

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amethystdreamer114 · 5 months

Text

My Weakness Part 1/?

Summary: ABO where Gold is a hot-blooded alpha and struggles with rutting symptoms, while trying his hardest to gain your favor before the worst hits…

TW: rut, swearing, smut, vomiting, random other sickfic stuff I decide on- honestly this is kinda a kitchen sink sickfic so😂

Soft, yellow candlelight illuminated Gold’s jacket as he paced up and down the isles of his store, attempting to distract himself with various items. With every second, the clock ticked closer to midnight. He could already feel his chest and neck heating up as his fever started.

Alpha ruts were… interesting to say the least. They lasted 5-7 days and typically worked in phases.

Phase 1: Fever, heightened sense of smell, temper or outbursts, an insatiable need to find a mate, or if you had one, an insatiable need to be near them.

Gold had a mate… or so he thought.

He’d met you at Granny’s on one of his walks. He could still picture it perfectly. Your pastel yellow sundress, the way your hair flowed in the breeze, the way you smelled like sweet oranges and freshly picked flowers.

He remembered how you had been so kind and gentle to him, especially since he’d just been left alone by Belle.

You two had talked for a few minutes on the bench outside. He’d studied your every word and the way you looked at him as if, for once, he mattered for more than just being The Dark One.

That’s when the blasted pirate showed up.

“(Y/n) love, we mustn’t get too close to the crocodile.” He swept you away, gesturing to his hand. “Learned my bloody lesson the hard way.”

Since then, you’d been on his mind and now, he was even more drawn to you. Especially since every now and again, he’d catch your scent.

Belle had left him at the worst time possible. During a rut, if an alpha *doesn’t* have a mate, symptoms are much worse.

What would normally feel like an off-day or residual flu symptoms very quickly became debilitating.

The clock continued to tick, showing him that his time was passing quickly. With every step, every attempt to distract himself, he could feel the chills and discomfort settling in. His long, brown hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. Soon, he started to feel disoriented and confused.

He fumbled around for his cane and then gave all the effort he had to reach the back of the shop, where he all but collapsed on one of the couches.

The fabric felt like knives as it rubbed against this feverish skin.

He started to curl in on himself, tugging on the edge of a thin throw blanket that was almost out of reach.

That’s when a gust of wind through the window brought in your scent. In his hazy state, he envisioned you at his side, stroking his hair and telling reassuring him that it would be alright and he’d make it through this.

He was scared, honestly. He’d never been through a rut alone.

He needed you and now, he had to find you and beg for the help he so desperately needed.

#ouat fanfiction #ouat sickfic #ouat rumple sickfic #sick rumple #abo #abo fanfiction #abo sickfic #alpha rumple #alpha gold #abo mr gold #ouat rumple #rumplestiltskin #reader insert #omega reader

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sicklylittlesnowflake · 7 years

Note

Hi! Do you think you can do a Jughead sickfic where he's sick at school and refuses to acknowledge that he is sick when it's obvious to everyone else? Sorry that the request is so general, but if you can do something that would be great and if you can't I totally understand. You're an amazing writer, keep it up!!!!

(First of all anon you are honestly the sweetest???

When life constantly throws obstacles and hardships at someone, that someone tends to grow a thick skin. However, a certain degree of care afterwards must be performed because at the end of the day, people are still human. Humans get hurt and weary.

Jughead tended to ignore the scratches and wounds that life gave to him, because processing everything that’s happened to him would surely drive him insane. If he for one second truly take in the harsh reality of his life, he wasn’t sure if he could put himself back together again. He developed an unhealthy coping mechanism of brushing things off and pretending wounds weren’t there, if he didn’t just laugh it off.

The same method applied to his physical health. If he had just elected to pretend it wasn’t there, everything would be fine.

The last thing Jughead needed was to get sick.

The past week had been far far too much for him. Jughead rarely ever cried, and this week he had cried 8 times that week already. Nothing good seemed to come from that week. Of course, Fred Andrews was kind enough as to let Jughead stay with them long term, until at least FP could get out of jail. The way things were looking, that wouldn’t be for a very long time.

It really had been a hectic week, and Jughead’s crappy body of course could not handle it. It wore him down, until he woke up sick with a fever and a stuffy nose.

Jughead hadn’t even been in school for quite a while. After Homecoming, he had turned up once and literally forced out of school. He had missed days due to police interrogations and the like, and when he was granted back access to the school, Fred forced him to stay home for a mental health day. Needless to stay, he was really behind in all his classes.

Jughead could not afford to miss another day of class. He wasn’t exactly straight A student Betty Cooper. Which was the reason Jughead began to drag his sick, weary body out of bed and to school.

“Is Jughead still not awake?” Fred commented as he watched Archie nearly finish his bowl of cereal.

“I’ll go–oh,” Archie stopped himself as Jughead shuffled into the kitchen. He was fully dressed in his usual S T-shirt, dark jeans, loose suspenders, worn out converse, messy dark curls peeking out of a grey knotted beanie and denim jacket combo, but he looked awful.

“Woah, you okay sport?” Fred blinked, taking in Jughead’s pale face and dark circles. The kid looked behind exhausted. However sickness was not even on Fred’s radar, he just thought Jughead had yet another fretful sleep.

Archie frowned as his friend sat down next to him and poured the milk into his waiting bowl of cereal, “You not get enough sleep?”

Jughead smiled at him weakly, “Yeah, that’s it. I’ll be fine though.”

Fred frowned, “You sure you should go to school today? I can ring..”

“No, Mr Andrews, thank you though. I’m fine, honestly. I need to catch up,” Jughead insisted, his voice giving out by his last sentence, sounding strained and obviously painful. He cleared his throat and coughed lightly into his elbow.

“Hm, okay,” Fred said reluctantly, glancing at Archie briefly as if to tell him to keep an eye on Jughead.

Archie eyed his friend worriedly, but sighed and gave in. He finished up his bowl of cereal and waited for his friend to finish so they could head to school.

Jughead and Archie were pretty silent the walk to school. Both of them had their headphones plugged in, listening to different music.

Archie could faintly hear light sniffling mixing in with Daughter’s “Youth” he was listening to. He yanked out the headphones off of his ears, the melody abruptly stopping as he looked over at Jughead.

Jughead rubbed at his nose lightly, putting his hand down when suddenly he was involuntary inhaling sharply. He raised his elbow to his face, turning away from Archie and sneezing two, tired sounding sneezes. Once he recovered he lowered his arm, giving one sniffle then continued on listening to his music, like nothing had happened.

“You’re sick!” Archie accused, stopping.

“No I’m not,” Jughead said casually, a little boredly even.

Archie was a little taken aback, tongue-tied. He was at loss for words. Normally Jughead was a lot more defensive about his sickness denial, and this lack lustre, “just another day” attitude was working. Archie felt a little intimidated, realising Jughead was improving at his denial tactics and he would have to start forming a new strategy against him. He pouted to himself for a few seconds, because he had just gotten a hang of calling Jughead out of his bullshit.

Once Archie got over himself he stopped again, “We are turning around and going home.”

Jughead smirked at him, “What? Tell your dad I sneezed and I have to stay home? C'mon Arch, it’s a natural bodily function–some particles in my nose that needed to be expelled, probably.”

Archie glared, “Jughead Jones, I know what you are doing! Don’t think I don’t know your evil, scheming plan..”

Jughead looked playful, “It just appears you want to miss school because of that math test you have.”

Archie groaned, sulking, finally giving in and continuing their walk to school.

Jughead had finally managed to get Archie off his back when he went off to do some music stuff with the Pussycats, and he felt relieved. He made his way through the crowd of people, trying to reach his locker. Once he arrived, he started to unlock it when suddenly someone was pulling his beanie off.

Jughead groaned quietly, turning his head around to face Reggie Mantle with an annoyed look on his face.

The victorious, playful grin on Reggie’s face instantaneously faded once took in Jughead’s sickly appearance. He frowned and carefully replaced the beanie clumsily onto Jughead’s messy dark hair.

“Uh..sorry dude, you got a cold?”

Jughead rubbed at his pink nose and shook his head, “No? Didn’t know where you got that idea?”

To further debunk that statement, an irresistible itch began to gnaw at his throat. Irritated tears pricked at his eyes, as a brief but harsh coughing fit tore its way out of his throat and into his now surely germ infested jacket sleeve.

Reggie pressed his lips together and pulled out a packet of cough drops from his jeans and pressed them onto Jughead’s palm, “Sure thing, beanie baby. Uh..welcome back and..don’t die I guess.”

Reggie stalked off into the crowd quickly, not even giving Jughead the chance to protest. He quickly unwrapped one and popped the drop into his mouth, pocketing the rest of the pack and silently praising all the deities for Reggie Mantle. Jughead breathed in shakily, discreetly pressing the back of his hand against his forehead to check his own temperature.

He frowned at the intensifying heat, hoping today would go by as soon as possible. He breathed in heavily, bracing himself for the day.

The reason Jughead had decided to brave through the day and get his sick ass out of bed was so he could catch up with school, and now he couldn’t even hear what the teacher was saying because of his fever. Jughead was seriously regretting his decision because now his little sacrifice was worth nothing. He still couldn’t just admit that he was sick, so he continued on with his little charade.

Jughead squinted, hoping his vision would focus and stop fading in and out so he could stop feeling so nauseous and generally unwell. He was focusing so hard on trying to concentrate he didn’t even notice a sneeze building up and creeping up on him, until it was too late.

He had barely managed to cover his face with his arm, causing Veronica to look over sympathetically. “You’ve got yourself a really bad cold, haven’t you?” She sighed.

Jughead sniffled and shook his head, voice contaminated with congestion, “Huh? No, I haven’t.”

Veronica blinked incredulously, “..uh, babe, you are very sick.”

Jughead shook his head calmly, “I think you’re misunderstanding. I’m not sick.”

Veronica raised an eyebrow, “Um, Jughead..the whole world can see you’re–”

“Lodge!” The teacher yelled.

“Sorry,” She apologised quickly, sparing an exasperated glance over at Jughead quickly, before he shrugged at her and gave her a small, reassuring smile.

She sighed in frustration and turned frontwards again and got back to the lesson.

Betty released a sigh of relief as the bell rang, commencing the beginning of lunch time and thus dismissing her from her absolutely boring History class. She was already so done with today, and just wanted to eat and hang out with her friends.

She got up from her seat and left the classroom, taking a quick detour to the bathroom. Once she had finished, she made her way towards the Blue and Gold office as she had left her lunch there earlier that morning.

As she neared the door of the office, she could faintly hear a chorus of congested sounding coughing from within. She raised her eyebrow in suspicion, and slowly opened the door to reveal Jughead resting against one of the chairs, shaking violently.

Jughead’s eyes widened as Betty’s figure formed in his vision, jolting straight so he was no longer slumped weakly against the chair, trying to stop his shivering, “Betty! Hey! How are you?”

Betty raised her eyebrow at the rough edge of Jughead’s lowered voice, taking in his sickly features and frowned when she came to her conclusion, “Awh, Jug..you’re not looking so good. How’re you feeling?”

Jughead shook his head defensively, “I feel fine. I was just going to get a head start on the article..”

Betty shook her had furiously, “No way! For one you’re sick, and for two you need to rest! It’s been a tough week.”

Jughead stood up, hoping to prove his point but swallowed as a wave of nausea hit him from standing up, his entire frame racked with shivers, “Im okay, Betty. Really! I don’t even know why you’re so concerned when I feel great.”

Betty sighed deeply, “Jughead..”

“I’m fi–” Jughead cut himself off as he inhaled involuntarily, quickly turning away to harshly stifle three sneezes into his arm, naively hoping Betty wouldn’t have noticed.

“Bless you,” Betty said softly.

“I didn’t sneeze!” Jughead insisted.

Betty looked incredulous.

“C'mon, Betty, lets go to the cafeteria or something,” Jughead pressed, making a move to exit the office when Betty wedged herself in between. She crossed her arms, face stern, as firm and resilient as she could be.

“Jughead Jones, you are not leaving this room. You are going to sit your sick ass down on that chair and relax.”

Kevin sat down at their usual table already inhabited by Archie and Veronica at the cafeteria, his face scrunched up in worry and concern. He looked a little spooked even, like he had just seen a ghost.

“What’s wrong Kev?” Veronica asked.

Kevin shook his head, “Its just..have you guys seen Jughead today? He looks awful.”

Archie rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh, “I keep trying to call him out on it, he’s so obviously sick it’s painful. I’ve tried to coax the truth out of him secretly by blessing him whenever he sneezes but he just acts like he didn’t sneeze at all?? It’s so frustrating.”

Kevin nodded in agreement, “Like he was just staring at nothing the whole time during Geography, like his cheeks are so red with a fever but he’s shaking so much?? The teacher asks him if he’s alright and he starts explaining the key features of an OS map.”

Veronica couldn’t help the laugh forcing its way out of her, trying to stifle the sound earning a glare from Archie.

“What?! That’s hilarious!” Veronica protested.

She sighed, “Yeah okay, it’s hilarious but it is concerning. Was he sick this morning? How’d he get sick?”

Kevin spoke up, “He got sick through a culmination of the infamous shitty Jones immune system and all the shit he’s been going through lately. I mean, that’s gotta be rough for his body, right? Speaking of which..”

Kevin’s voice lowered into a more soft and sympathetic tone, “How’s he holding up?”

Archie sighed sadly, “Not good. He isn’t sleeping, he’s having really bad panic attacks, he doesn’t even eat as much as he normally would.”

Veronica widened her eyes, “Jesus.”

Archie nodded, “Exactly! We didn’t even realise he was sick this morning because he’s been this dull the whole week. If only we could just tackle him down and get him to admit he’s sick.”

Veronica nodded in agreement, “This is frustrating. Where is he, anyways?”

Kevin pulled out his phone as it beeped, quickly scanning through his new text, “Uh, I got the answer to that.”

He raised his phone up so that the two could see what the text said.

Betty Cooper: Kev Jughead is super sick and he’s not admitting it so I’m trying to trap him in the blue and gold office hurry please I can’t hold him in here by myself

“C'mon, lets go get them,” Veronica announced, standing up and heading for the office.

The three friends managed to arrive at the Blue and Gold within two minutes of Betty sending the text; and when the Kevin opened the door to reveal the sight, Jughead looked even worse than he already was.

He was convulsing violently, arms wrapped around himself to try and provide himself with some warmth. His nose was rubbed raw, an angry shade of red and his cheeks were the same shade of red, flushed from a fever. His eyes were watery and bleary, face ghostly pale, highlighting his dark circles.

Betty was hovering over him, trying to feel for his temperature but Jughead was ducking away defensively, clearly not wanting her to feel his forehead. Betty sighed in frustration, trying to get a grip on his forehead but Jughead would only inch away from her, lightly swatting at her hand.

“Oh my god, Forsythe! If you’re really ‘not sick’ Just let me feel your forehead!” Betty exclaimed impatiently.

Jughead opened his mouth to protest but widened his eyes as he caught sight of his other friends. He instinctively straightened and cleared his throat, brushing messy curls out of his face.

“Wh..” Betty turned around to face her friends, and let out a sigh of relief. “Oh thank god you’re here! Help me hold him down!”

“What?!” Jughead exclaimed, voice cracking and hoarse. Quickly, he turned away from her to stifle a sneeze into his shoulder.

While his guard was down Veronica rushed over and pinned him down in place so he wouldn’t duck away. Jughead squirmed, leaving Kevin and Archie at awe from Veronica’s display of great strength.

Betty pressed the back of her hand against Jughead’s forehead and frowned deeply at the result, “Jughead! You are burning up!”

Jughead shook violently, teeth chattering but shook his head all the same, “No I’m not!”

Veronica rolled her eyes, “C'mon Jughead, you’ve lost this battle. C'mon and admit it.”

Jughead shook his head childishly, crossing his arms and pouting. He sulked in the chair for a little while, still shaking and shivering.

“Awh, you actually look kinda cute when you’re sulking,” Betty giggled.

Archie sighed deeply and took off his Varsity jacket, grabbing at Jughead’s arms and putting the way too big jacket on him.

“Archie! It’s huge!” Jughead whined, stretching his arms out which were engulfed by the jacket sleeve to prove his point. However, despite his complaining he couldn’t complain about the warmth and comfort the jacket brought him.

Archie smirked, “Well I’ll take it back then.”

Jughead pouted, “No!”

The rest of the group erupted into laughter.

“You can keep the jacket if you admit you’re sick,” Kevin suggested.

Jughead huffed, “I–I..”

He sighed deeply and pouted, looking away in embarrassment, “Yes. Yes I am sick.” He sneezed into the soft fabric twice to prove his point.

Jughead curled up into the chair, snuggling up into the oversized but comforting fabric of Archie’s jacket. He closed his eyes exhaustedly, only then letting his guard down and showing how weak he actually felt.

“Yeah, I don’t..feel great,” Jughead mumbled.

“We know sweetie,” Veronica said softly, sitting down on the chair next to him and gently caressing his dark hair.

Archie smiled softly, “I’m glad you told us. I’ll go to the nurses and call my dad, you’ll be home soon.”

Jughead managed a soft smile, “Y-yeah..h-home.”

#jughead jones #archie andrews #jarchie #betty cooper #veronica lodge #kevin keller #riverdale #sickfic #fever #whump #prompts #fred andrews

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coughdontfeelwellcough · 7 years

Text

Uncertain (Ocs sickfic part 2)

Thank you everyone who’s read the first part, I hope you enjoy this one :) You can check out part 1 here

Sleep came in dribs and drabs, Jamie waking her with various times as he moaned and whimpered. She tried to sooth him best she could but he continued to be restless, the medicine hadn’t been enough to get his fever down to a reasonable level. Her mind wandered to the future, something she tried so hard not to even think about; everything with Jamie was just too uncertain and for that very reason those three words had never been spoken, like speaking them would break a bond and make everything real in a way they both knew it couldn’t be.

The sun had risen, shining through the open windows when Anna woke for the last time. She rolled over to Jamie still asleep, he looked so pale in the light the only colour being his chapped nose and fever stained cheeks. She ran her hand over his forehead feeling the heat still radiating from his skin. His lips were cracked from breathing through his mouth and she wished she could just take it all away from him, his pain and hardships because he didn’t deserve them, not any of them. She continued to generally stroke his hair waiting for him wake and in that moment she didn’t care if her parents walked through the door because right then she was happy and nothing could spoil that.

He woke a few minutes later, a mixture of her cool fingers against his skin and the rattling in his lungs. His eyes were glassy and still tried despite the hours of sleep but he still smiled when he saw her.

“Good morning sleepyhead, how are you feeling?” she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

He groaned which turned into a painful coughing fit, he buried his face in the pillow to try and muffle the sound. Anna rubbed his back and went to fetch his a glass of water, she was still wearing the clothes she’d worn to the forest having not found time to change. She was in need of a hot shower and the grumbling stomach told her some food wouldn’t be a bad idea either. She returned to him sitting up in bed, leaning against the pillows as he breathed heavily, she’d never been him look so weak that she felt physical pain in her chest, her own breath catching much like his own.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this ill in my life,” he said as she placed the glass in his shaking hands.

Anna frowned “You poor thing, I wish there was something I could do.”

“You’re already doing it, you’re here with me,” his voice was low and rasping but it could still send a shiver down her spine.

She would have kissed him right then if her stomach haddn’t grumbled loudly and they both laughed, his more of a wheeze than a laugh but at it was better than nothing.

“Suppose I better get some breakfast and I know you’re probably not hungry but you need you strength, so you can beat whatever this,” she said softly.

“Just whatever you’re having, it’s going to taste like snot anyway.”

Anna smiled at his dumb joke, he could always lighten her mood and in all her life he was the only one that could calm her anxiety prone brain.

“Okay, well I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“What if your parents come up why you’re gone?”

“They won’t, they hardly ever come to my room and plus they don’t get up before 9am ever so we should be safe,” Anna replied.

“Are you sure?”

“Very.” She leant over and kissed his forehead, it was still burning but it was worth it just to kiss him.

It was quiet downstairs just like Anna had said, her parents yet to rise and with no siblings left in the house there was no one else. Though they did have both a cook and a housekeeper they didn’t live on the property so were easy to avoid when necessary. She went into the kitchen and started gathering up various breakfast things, she wasn’t sure what Jamie would actually want to eat as he didn’t have any kind of appetite but it was God’s guess when he would have last had a proper meal. It hadn’t quite sunk in that he was actually in her home, in her bedroom and it wasn’t all some weird dream. She knew the circumstances of the whole thing where far from perfect but it was the closest to normal they’d ever had. Anna returned with a tray of various breakfast things, buttered toast with jam for her, greek yogurt for him as she thought it would be soothing on his throat and a bowl of fresh fruit to help boost his immune system.

“I wasn’t sure what to get so…” Anna trailed off and Jamie laughed weakly, desperately trying not to set off another round of coughing.

“Wow, thank you.”

She smiled and they sat together on the bed, the tray of food resting between them. As well as the food she’d brought up some tea with lemon, something to help Jamie’s poor wrecked throat. He sipped at the hot drink, leaning back against the headboard and Anna found herself at a loss for what to say, she’d not felt out of place beside Jamie for a long time but sat there on her bed it felt weird. She wasn’t even sure she’d ever seen him in daylight, the sun picking out the gold in his otherwise brown hair. Normally their conversations were based around ranting about life, finally able to let everything go as the words they said could only be said to each other, the only ones to understand.

Jamie sneezed with such force that he snapped forward, it such quick succession that Anna couldn’t keep count.

“Bless you,” she said, kind of thankful for something to say.

“Urgh,” Jamie moaned, reaching toilet paper Anna had left on the bedside table. Even in a house as big as hers there was still no tissues when you needed them.

“How are you doing?” she asked.

He’d barely eaten and had started shaking so hard he’d had to lay down.

“I’m okay.”

She sighed, resting on her hand on his forehead, he was still on fire but the medicine she had just wasn’t strong enough. She needed a plan to get out of the house to buy some more without her parents finding out. Jamie had closed his eyes, already drifting off again as she removed the leftover breakfast things. In all the times she’d imagined what it would be like having Jamie in her home, in her bed she never imagined it like this, there was also more passion, more love and less awkwardness, it was like she didn’t know how to act around him anymore and she kind of hated herself for it. For so long she’d had to keep herself at home and herself in the forest seperate, never letting them cross over and now everything was a big mess and she’d gotten lost somewhere in the middle.

After changing in clean pyjamas she joined Jamie in the bed, wrapping an arm around his waist. She didn’t regret the action she took in bringing Jamie home, it had to be done, she just wished she’d been strong enough to do it better. Jamie coughed and rolled over in his sleep, Anna rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

For awhile they both slept soundly, the morning light bringing more rest than the night. They became so tangled it was no longer possible to tell who’s lim was who’s, both their heads on one pillow, so close together the heat was nearly unbearable but not enough to wake them. The sound that woke Anna was so small, so nearly insignificant that she might not have heard it at all but the moment the floorboard squeaked she was up like a shot.

“Someone’s coming!” she hissed, shaking Jamie by the shoulder.

“What?” he replied, still half asleep.

“My parents are coming,” she whispered.

Her brain was working a mile a minute trying to think of what to do, she had to hide Jamie and she only had about thirty seconds to do it. Her first thought was the wardrobe, the typical film clique but it was too small, Jamie wasn’t exactly short and she didn’t trust him on his feet for any length of time. Twenty seconds, the bathroom was their only real reason, they’d just have to pray no would go in.

“I need you get up okay? It’ll only be for a moment,” she was still whispering, the words coming out in a hushed rush.

Jamie nodded and moved to stand, his body was aching, he felt like he was made of lead and his vision swam and he got to his feet. Anna was there just as he thought his knees would give way beneath him, clinging onto his arm and guiding him toward the door at the far side of the room. 10 seconds and Anna had just got Jamie through the door, she sat on the closed toilet just as he started coughing, his fist pressed to his mouth to try and muffle the sound. 5 seconds and she panted his back trying to help him clear his lungs but time was running out. 3 seconds, 2.. Anna ran, the bathroom door swinging closed behind her and jumping into bed in the same moment that her bedroom door open and her mother appeared.

“Still in bed I see? Don’t you remember we’re suppose to be at the Montagu’s at eleven,” said Anna’s mother.

Mrs Violet James was as fierce as her demeanor suggested, thin lipped, straight backed, never without 5 inch heels, always ready to look down on people. Her dark brown hair didn’t show a single grey hair despite her age, going grey is for those who can’t afford the proper care she always said.

“I…” Anna started, no idea what she was going to say. She’d completely forgotten she was due at some social engagement, she hadn’t had a clear thought since she first caught sight of Jamie in the forest.

“Good God Anna, you look terrible! Are you unwell?” her mother criticized.

It seemed the panic and the struggle of hiding Jamie had paid off, her cheeks were red, sweat beaded on her forehead and hands still shaking with nerves.

“I’m afraid I don’t feel well,” she said, forcing a weak cough from her lungs.

“Poor Humphrey, he was so looking forward to seeing you,” her mother said, fake sympathy in her voice.

Anna forced out another cough and shivered, trying to make herself look as pathetic as Jamie felt.

Humphrey was the God awful son of one of their ‘friends’ who they’d been trying to set her up with years, forcing them together at every available opportunity. The idea of even seeing them made her shudder.

“I’m sorry, just one of those things,” Anna replied.

Her mother frowned, lines appearing the corners of her mouth but she didn’t comment.

“I’ll get Mary to bring up that soup, you really do look awful.”

“Hmm thanks, oh and mum? Could you ask Mary to get some medicine, I’m afraid I’ve run out.”

Mrs James bristled, she hated being called mum not that Anna cared.

“Alright but I’ve told you time and time again to get a bell in your room,” she said.

Anna resisted rolling her eyes, she’d always refused getting a call bell in her room it would be like going back to the days of scullery maids and footmen but she figured that’s what her parents wanted, to be the Lord and Lady of a manor long forgotten.

“Thank you,”

“We’ll see you later then darling, feel better.”

Anna’s mum blow a kiss from the door and let left back down the squeaky stairs, not having ever stepping into the room. Where most mother’s would tend to their ill child, feel for a temperature or have some soothing words Anna’s never had, she felt closer bonds to nanny’s that she did do to her own mother.

She wanted thirty seconds, just to be sure before dashing off the bed to Jamie. He startled awake from where he’d been asleep sat on the toilet seat but still mustered up a weak smile.

“Are we safe?” he asked, his voice groggy and yet adorable.

“It’s all fine, mum took one look at me and declared me too unhealthy looking to be going anywhere. She’s even sending Mary up with food and medicine, so we’ll finally have something for that fever of yours,” she said, her hand coming to rest on his cheek.

“Wait, who’s Mary?”

“She’s kind of like our housekeeper.”

“You have a housekeep…”

He was interrupted by a series of violent coughs, his whole body was shaking with the force of them and in that moment he’d never looked so small, so young. It was like seeing him as a child and Anna’s heart tumbled toward her stomach. When it was finally over and his wheezing lungs were able to get in enough air he lent over the sink to sit out whatever it was that making breathing so difficult.

“Can we go back to bed now?” he asked, his voice barely a squeak.

“Of course we can.”

She took his arm and helped his stand, his weight falling on her as she wrapped an arm around his waist. She got him to the edge of the bed where he sat panting despite the few steps they’d taken, he was out of breath so easily. He was still wearing his grumpy t shirt that was sticking to his skin with sweat, there was no way he could be comfortable and she had to try and get his fever down somehow.

“Hey, I need you to take this off, is that okay?” she asked, her hands on his shirt.

Jamie nodded and slowly raised his arms, letting her pull the sweaty fabric over his head. Anna had to try not to gasp at the sight of Jamie’s bare chest, he was almost littered with scars. There were some of all shapes and sizes but by far the most worrying was the one that ran along his left size, it looked like someone had stabbed him.

“Is everything okay?” Jamie asked.

He was looking at her with fever bright blue eyes and it took all her strength not to cry, he wasn’t going to see her cry over this not now when he needed her.

“Everything’s fine, everything’s going to be fine.”

He laid down again and she joined him, his fever so high she could no longer have the duvet near her. He was asleep in minutes, his head against her shoulder and she found her hand tracing the scar along his side. Who could have stabbed him? And for why? It brought up a question she couldn’t afford to think about… Did she really know Jamie at all?

Part 3 coming soon!!

#sickfic #A&J #fever #coughing #sneezefic

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