hi guys! as the title implies, this is my fic masterlist - I’ve been in a phase where I’ve been scouring for fic content lately, and other people’s masterlists have been godsends, so this is for anyone who might end up interested in the same things i’ve liked someday! Some notes:
I usually like to post two versions of the same fic; one on tumblr with spelled out sneezes and more detail regarding anything sneeze related and one on ao3 that’s essentially the same version with spellings taken out
My poorly disguised vanilla ao3 is here and my snz ao3 is here
At the moment, I’ve written and posted work for voltron, tma, bnha (tddk), ygo (angstship), aot, jujutsu kaisen, cherry magic, chainsaw man and buddy daddies
Same rules as my bio apply, please don’t interact with me if you’re a minor
Any bolded fic means that there is either MESS or CRYING or maybe even BOTH. … 😔✌🏼
I just hope someone finds this useful one day! I’m super appreciative of anyone who reads my work!
My fics by fandom:
Attack on Titan:
inhale release break conduct retreat: Erwin and Levi struggle through a meeting in Wall Sina. For entirely different reasons. - nsfw 18+
Chainsaw Man:
Shelter for a country mouse: Aki and Angel wait for their ride. Aki finds that Angel isn't built for the weather
Cherry Magic:
tug of war 1/2 2/2: Kurosawa is down with a cold. Adachi experiences another set of firsts.
Jujustu Kaisen:
sicktember 2024 masterpost
inuokko headcanon tag!
two birds one stone - if Inumaki is sneezing, then so is everyone else. Yuta doesn’t want him to worry.
Disruptive - Yuta has a terrible cold and his presence is required at a mandatory meeting. Everyone looks out for him where they can.
45 minutes to okutama station - Toge and Yuta go home early from a trip out with their cohort. Yuta can’t stop sneezing on the bus ride home.
afterglow: - Yuta has hayfever and Toge just wants to get him alone - nsfw 18+
absolution 1/3 | 2/3 | 3/3 : - Toge catches the worst possible kind of cold at the worst possible time. (16k)
prompt fill - Yuta rubbing Toge’s back through a sneezing fit while he’s holding back his own
limelight : There’s an outdoor concert nearby after a hard mission. Yuta is recovering from a pretty bad cold, and the chilly fall evening isn’t doing him much good. He tries to make it work anyways.
balancing act: The only souvenir Toge brought back from their weekend in Ikebukuro was Yuta’s terrible headcold.
unintended consequences: While hiding from a cursed spirit, Yuta almost sneezes. Almost. Cursed speech comes with repurcussions.
prompt fill: nanami + nasal swab // prequel
prompt fill: choso + cat allergies
prompt fill: sick toge on a mission with megumi
prompt fill: nobamaki + allergies
Magnus Archives:
x - Jon comes to work ill and Martin makes it his goal to check up on him, despite Jon’s lack of decorum or appreciation. Set at the beginning of S2
x - It’s the middle of the night and Jon’s hiding away in the cabin bathroom sneezing.
My Hero Academia:
x - Izuku and Todoroki work at the same pro hero agency. It starts to rain unexpectedly as they’re supposed to be walking back, and there’s only one umbrella.
x - Fic based on this wav where Todoroki comes home feeling under the weather after a long day in a snowstorm
x - Izuku has never really considered telling anyone about his super secret fetish. Shoto does what he has to to figure out why Izuku is acting so strange. 10.5k slow burn kink discovery fic -nsfw 18+
x - Shoto goes to the antique store with Izuku on their day off. It gets to him.
Ygo:
x - Malik and Ryou find out that just loving each other isn’t enough to fix all their unaddressed baggage. (This one is ao3 only, no spellings but I have a version w/ them I can share the link to! And I would do this with no hesitation. If you like these dudes PLEASE tell me ;_;)
Buddy Daddies:
x - Kazuki comes home after a long job and a walk in the rain with a high fever. Rei doesn’t ask any questions.
x - It’s supposed to be a routine job. The floral arrangements and Kazuki’s allergies have other ideas
Voltron:
x - Keith wakes up feeling cold and unwell and runs into Lance, who can’t sleep for other reasons
x - Lance has a cold, and a movie date he has planned with Keith. He pretends he’s fine, because he is, obviously.
x - Keith wears Lance’s sweater
x - The fire alarm snowstorm one, continued on ao3
x - The one where Lance is miserable at the airport, talking to Keith on the phone for comfort while he waits to board his flight
x - The one where Keith sleeps in Shiro’s room when he isn’t feeling well (gen), continued on ao3
x - The one where Keith sneezes so much that it disrupts alien movie night
x - The one where they play hide and seek and Keith and Lance hide in the same closet and I’m sure you can guess what happens next
x - The one with the bus (emeto warning)
x - The one where Keith goes to pick Lance up from the airport and they kind of fight about it
x - The one where Keith’s mom is there
x - The one where Keith is sick and Lance comes over during a rainstorm to give him soup - spoiler alert he is also sick :o -
a sickie feels an intense tickle in their nose in the middle of the night. they know they're about to have a sneezing fit so they quietly step out onto the balcony, hoping not to wake their partner. the cold night air hits them, making them feel even more miserable. they close their eyes, waiting for the first sneeze to come but once it does, they just keep coming, messier, wetter, and more desperate than the last. they can't seem to stop
Hear me out — progressing from “I’m gonna sneeze” at the start of the day to “I’b godda sdeeze” as the congestion amps up, to “I’b godda sdeeze sobe bore” as they fully accept they’re not going to stop sneezing anytime soon.
Kinda love the idea of someone showering with their sick partner. Just feeling the congested inhales. Taking in the shudders. Being leaned on after a particularly strong sneeze. Getting sneezed on.
swear on my life i see one mention of mess and i feel like a giant sign pops out behind me that says PERVERT in giant flashing letters. everyone starts holding signs and pointing at me and they are all saying PERVERT!!!!!!! PERVERT!!!! THIS BITCH IS PERVING HARD!!!!!!
W/itch H/at A/telier snz fic where O/lly and Q/ifrey care for each other :) 1.4k
contains: m snz, illness, light mess, contagion
MINORS DNI
for those unfamiliar with the source material, these two basically watch over an atelier of 4 apprentice witches together. relationship left ambiguous on purpose, but they're totally in love. you can quote me on that.
Olruggio is under no false pretenses on how the next few weeks are going to go, so he's been quick to finish up his ongoing commissions and just as hasty with his polite refusals of new ones, citing, “A time-sensitive project that needs my attention before I accept any new commissions. I appreciate your patience and thank you for your patronage” as the reason behind his reticence.
In actuality, it's been people rather than objects that have been taking up much of his time in recent days. Their atelier had been touched by illness, a simple cold that made its way through Qifrey's apprentices before settling down in their master. The ailment hadn't been dangerous, though it had been rather severe, and Olruggio had found his hours outside of his usual commission work occupied by trips to the healers for supplies, warming and cooling spells, and a new magical object that concentrated steam in a round shape to allow their little witches to momentarily ease their congestion.
To his and Qifrey's relief, the girls had healed rather quickly, as youths are wont to do, though their atelier is still bathed in a calm quiet as their master works through achieving the same outcome and their Watchful Eye struggles through the beginnings of his own inconvenient ailment.
Olruggio rubs firm circles into Qifrey's back as the witch doubles over into a handkerchief with productive, chesty coughs. Nearby, the girls are clinking around in the kitchen, adding some final touches to a soup that they had been saving for a day like today. Qifrey wipes at his mouth with a congested sigh, sending a tiny, grateful smile Olruggio's way.
“Tetia's got the tea on,” Olruggio says, taking his hand from Qifrey's back and returning to his sketches that are spread across the floor. “That'll hopefully soothe yer throat.” It's a quiet midday in late fall, cool outside but warm inside, and they've all accepted that it'll be a subdued next couple of days.
“Here Olly,” Qifrey croaks, handing Olruggio a fresh handkerchief produced from somewhere beneath his leisure robes. He feels warmth dust his cheeks as he accepts the handkerchief, dabbing it under his leaky nose. He had dripped a little onto his sketches to make Qifrey offer up one of the precious, clean cloths, and it's equal parts embarrassing and truly that dire.
Unfortunately, the dabbing causes a tickle to radiate through the congestion in his nose, and he sniffs sharply to abate it. Screw it, he might as well blow his nose. It's not like it would be the most unsanitary thing to happen in the atelier this month. He tents the handkerchief around his nose with firm hands and blows best he can. His sinuses are simultaneously congested and drippy, which means that his nostrils are an irritated red from being wiped at and his attempt at emptying them ends with a sad, crumpled-sounding HONK.
Quick glances of sympathy come from everyone in the room, which make his cheeks heat again, but he knows better than to hide in his quarters. Without anyone to make Qifrey rest, the master would run himself ragged and make his recovery time twice what it should be. Plus, the girls couldn't be left unsupervised in the kitchen, and he has to admit that the spot on the floor by the fire that he and Qifrey had set up their spellbooks near is comfortable and warm. Much better than– and he would admit this only if threatened– spending the entire day alone. The only thing worse than being miserable is being miserable by yourself.
Qifrey didn't seem to believe that. Since their childhood, he'd always tried to endure alone, which is why Olruggio finds it as easy as breathing to drag him along when he's ill and force his friend to the inconvenience of his company. Sometimes he knew that his constant fretting frustrated Qifrey, but it was worth it for every private smile and grateful side glance.
“You're warm,” Qifrey says softly, his palm suddenly pressed to Olruggio's forehead. The hand travels to his cheek, cupping it briefly so that Qifrey can turn Olruggio's head towards him. Whatever he's looking for in Olruggio's eyes, he must find, because he gives a small, regretful smile and lets go, instead clasping Olruggio's free hand that isn't occupied with his nose and the handkerchief. “I'm sorry for passing my illness to you.”
Olruggio has time to remove the fabric from his nose and open his mouth before he's hurriedly covering both again, barrelling forward to catch his spraying sneezes. “Hn… h'ngtchh! —HRRAAHHT'chht!”
“Bless you,” Qifrey squeezes his hand.
Olruggio just shakes his head, sniffling and panting raggedly into the cloth before losing two more sneezes to it. “HNnt'chihh! ih'YISHhieew! Snft!”
“Goodness, bless you again. That sounded like it hurt.”
Blowing his nose with one hand isn't something he's well practiced in, but Qifrey's grip on his free hand is stronger than ever so he gives it a go. He can feel how much he's failed when the handkerchief isn't enough fabric to hold the mess he's made, which is simultaneously mortifying, fascinating, and disturbing. Qifrey seems to realize the problem right as he does, and lifts the handkerchief he had coughed into to assist in Olruggio's cleanup. He doesn’t let go of his hand.
“Let's just…here…” Qifrey's voice is soft and private, eyes focused as he gently wipes at the sides of Olruggio's nostrils. He's leaned in to get a closer look, his lips parted to make up for the fact that he's probably as stuffed up as Olruggio is right now and can't use his nose for basic functions like breathing. “Your kerchief is a bit obsolete, Olly, would you mind terribly moving it aside?” Qifrey looks amused as he asks, likely knowing exactly why Olruggio hasn't done so yet. He gives the man a halfhearted glare as he sniffles wetly into the handkerchief one more time in a futile attempt to snort up the majority of the mess that the kerchief can't contain, but based on the way he can feel the coolness of the air interact with his damp nose and upper lip, he hasn't really succeeded.
Luckily, Qifrey is quick with cleanup duty, pinching off Olruggio's nose with a wet sound that makes him wince, but Qifrey doesn't even blink. It's as if taking care of Olruggio is as natural as drawing spells to him. Qifrey gives a satisfied smile as he dabs at Olruggio's philithrum one last time. “There. All– oh– aADTSSCHHeUH!!” Qifrey is just quick enough to bring the handkerchief to his face. The same one that he had just used to mop Olruggio's face with.
“Bless. We make a right disgusting pair, don't we?” Olruggio remarks, making Qifrey choke on a laugh that quickly becomes a cough.
“Master Olly, is Master Qifrey okay?” Coco asks with concern, checking in on them between tea and meal preparation. Qifrey is turning a bit red from the effort of coughing, but still seems to be breathing.
Olruggio nods to her. “He'll be alright. Even better if we could have some o' that tea.”
She straightens. “Right! Right away!” and disappears again.
Qifrey's eyes are amused, sparkling in a way Olruggio hasn't seen in a few days due to his misery. “Good girls,” Qifrey remarks, voice slightly hoarser.
“I suppose we're a bit fond of ‘em,” Olruggio allows with a sniffle. He glances back at the spells littering the floor, a wave of exhaustion moving through him. His headache, which has been slowly getting worse throughout the morning, is pounding after his small sneezing fit.
“I've decided. We'll drink Tetia's tea, and then you'll have a nice nap before dinner.”
Olruggio raises an eyebrow at him. “Will I?”
Qifrey nods. “I know for a fact you didn't get much sleep last night.” Qifrey, alongside everyone else in the atelier, were probably almost as disturbed by Olruggio's nighttime misery as he was. He tries not to feel too mortified by the thought of them all hearing his miserable sneeze attacks. “So take a nap, just a quick one. It's warm and lovely, right? We'll keep your soup warm for when you wake.”
Olruggio's eyelids are already feeling heavy, and he feels hands on his shoulders that helpfully lead him horizontal. Someone– it must be Qifrey, but he can't be sure because he can't be bothered to open his eyes to check (and when had he closed them?)– wedges some pillows beneath his head, which helps him breathe slightly better, and he hums a thanks. He'll just take a quick nap before lunch, and he'll feel much better when he wakes….
someone soaked to the bone definately catching a cold from being out in the cold rain. Leaned up against someone else while they're wrapped in a blanket. Sickie is so tired they nuzzle their still cold wet dripping nose into the person they're leaning against. Maybe they end up snzing too and making a mess but they're just too tired to care anymore
This is a fic for the anime/manga W/itch H/at A/telier, which is a delightful series that everyone should check out. It's even got this cute little creature called a brushbuddy, who this fic is about!
Other guys relevant to this fic include pov character Olruggio and his best friend/forever crush Qifrey, who he lives with while Qifrey is also training four young witches as his apprentices. This fic is set directly after episode 6 of the anime.
@darlingsnz gets a kudos from me for their post of headcanons for both O and Q that kicked my ass into gear and got me to write something -- thank you for your service!!
Without further ado, here we go! (1.8k)
---
It first came to his attention soon after he discovered that Qifrey, damn the man, had acquired a new apprentice.
She'd snuck into his tower in pursuit of the brushbuddy (apparently the girls had a pet now) and had ended up charming him in a way that he was loathe to admit, although any remaining sense he'd had about turning her in to the Knights Moralis was sure quashed by the way her eyes lit up when she saw the Glowstone Path.
"You're getting soft, Olruggio," he said aloud to himself as he climbed back to his work station. His nose was itching, and he thumbed at it briefly with a dragging sniff. "Letting her run rough-shod over you like that."
He was still grumbling as he went back to his work, a particularly fiddly contraption he was putting together with the Silver Eve procession in mind. He had already been growing tired before the interruption by Coco, having gotten precious little sleep over the past few days while he'd been working abroad and traveling, but now he found himself distracted too. His nose continued to tickle, no matter how much he swiped at it with the heel of his hand or the knob of his wrist, and after a few minutes of it he found himself teetering on the edge of a sneeze.
It was a relief when it finally crossed that invisible line, and he pushed back from his desk to catch the sneeze in the crook of his elbow. "hh'USHhoo!"
He froze there for a moment, waiting to see if a second was coming. When the sensation began to fade, he resurfaced, sniffling and blinking watering eyes.
If it had just been the single sneeze, he wouldn't have thought much of it, but several of them came upon him in the same manner over the next few hours, which was unusual enough outside of hayfever season that it gave him pause.
Maybe he was getting a cold. He'd just go to bed early (-er than usual) and hope he could sleep it off.
When the morning came and he felt fine again, he assumed that was what had happened. He'd been lucky, for once. Maybe he should start doing this (sleeping) more often.
He even went down to have a late breakfast with Qifrey and the girls, who he could hear chattering in the main room as he made his way over from his tower. Qifrey was working with Coco and Tetia on peeling some vegetables for a stew that Agott was poring over on the stove, while Richeh set about measuring out spices. The brushbuddy poked its head up from Richeh's shoulder when Olruggio entered the room and gave a cheerful "Pwee!~" in greeting, as if it was still appreciative of him drying it off the night before.
"Olly!" Qifrey said cheerfully. "Fancy seeing you up and about before noon."
"Yeah, yeah." Olruggio went over to dish up some of the sliced fruits left on the counter from the girls' breakfasts. "Got things to do, ya know."
The rest of the morning passed in quiet contentment, with the girls studying in their own workspaces and Qifrey puttering around collecting and setting herbs to dry in the kitchen. After Olruggio finished his breakfast, he decided to also bring his in-progress contraption down to the main room. He generally preferred to do his work in solitude, but Qifrey wasn't bothersome, and in fact Olruggio found that he did tend to get more work done when he was around. Something about the quiet familiarity of occupying the same space as Qifrey put him in the proper creative mindset.
However, after a few hours of work, he returned to the main room from a break to find that the brushbuddy had curled up on his draft signs, drawn no doubt to the drying conjuring ink. It was definitely cute, Olruggio thought as he approached the furry white creature curled into a cozy spiral, but it was still in the way.
"Go on now, get," he said gently, reaching out to nudge the brushbuddy with the back of his hand when it opened a sluggish eye. "Go find one of the girls."
It uncurled with a grumbly squeak and hopped from the table, then rippled across the floor towards Tetia and Richeh's rooms, where it knew it would be more welcome. Olruggio brushed some stray fur from his papers and got back to work.
Unfortunately his productivity was doomed to stay fractured, because a few minutes later, his nose began to itch again. It started as a tingle in the very tip, but as he sniffled and scrubbed at his nose with his finger with little luck, the tickle grew and spread until his sinuses were buzzing with it.
Finally, his nose had had enough, and he leaned away from his work to sneeze heavily towards his shoulder, elbow half-raised in anticipation. "hrUSHHhoo!"
But this one required a follow-up, he realized quickly, and he snapped towards his shoulder once more. "USHHieu!"
"Bless you!" Qifrey called from the kitchen.
Olruggio ignored him; Qifrey always seemed to find great pleasure in blessing him when he sneezed, but he knew better than to expect a response from Olruggio in return. But, frustratingly, it wasn't more than five minutes later when he had to sneeze again. He squeezed his eyes shut and brought his elbow to his face again expectantly.
"USHieu!"
"Bless you!"
"hih? — hh'USHieuhh!"
"…Bless you. Are you all right, Olly?"
Olruggio looked up, sniffling wetly, to see Qifrey poking his head around the doorjamb from the kitchen, a half-stripped bundle of sage in his hands.
"I feel fine," Olruggio protested, though a third sneeze had begun to creep up from the back of his thickening sinuses, and he knew he was going to require a handkerchief soon. "Just this blasted sneezing."
"Perhaps you're catching cold?" Qifrey offered with no absence of concern. "You have been traveling a lot lately and wearing yourself down."
"And have another trip coming up this evening," Olruggio said with an irritated cough. His throat did feel a bit off too, though it was more itchy than sore. It felt almost like the way he reacted to grass pollen, though it was the wrong season for it. He wasn't sure quite what was going on.
"I'm sure they'll understand if you can't make it," Qifrey said, though they both knew that wasn't necessarily true. Some of Olruggio's clients could be quite demanding.
Olruggio shrugged. "I'll be all right, no need to worry about me."
The symptoms persisted throughout the early afternoon, until he gave up on working and retreated to his tower to bathe. The steam and humid air helped clear the congestion that had begun to set in, and after he emerged and began to dress for his trip, he found he felt almost normal again.
A bit odd, but he wasn't going to complain about it.
And in a way that continued to be odd, his symptoms completely dissipated over the next few days while he worked with some townspeople in a village to the west. Perhaps it had just been a small cold and he'd gotten over it, he thought, mildly perplexed.
But then, to his consternation, they began again as soon as he returned to the atelier. He was chatting with the girls and Qifrey in the kitchen when the brushbuddy scaled him until it could perch happily on his shoulder, fluffed up and preening as it welcomed him home.
The urge to sneeze swept upon him like a gust of wind, and he took a hurried step back from Qifrey and leaned away for an itchy, irritated sneeze into his elbow. "hrr'USHoo!"
The brushbuddy squealed and clung more tightly to his shoulder with its little black feet, but a second, harsher sneeze dislodged it and sent it skittering across the floor to Coco, who scooped it into her arms, wide-eyed.
"Bless you!" She said, echoed by Agott and Tetia. Qifrey, oddly enough, said nothing at first. It wasn't until Olruggio had found a handkerchief to blow his suddenly running nose that he spoke up.
"Have you considered that you might be allergic to the brushbuddy, Olruggio?" He asked mildly. Tetia looked dismayed, and Coco looked down at the fluffy creature in her arms. "You said you weren't sneezing at all while you were away, and it started back up as soon as you came home."
Olruggio sniffled wetly. "It has been years since I've been around them," he admitted. "And I can't say I've ever lived with one before. It's possible."
"This is horrible!" Tetia cried. "Poor Master Olly!"
"Do we need to…get rid of it?" Coco asked in a tiny voice, her eyes wide as the brushbuddy tried to curl into the smallest ball possible, keening quietly.
"I can manage," Olruggio began to say at the same time as Qifrey said, "There is a medicine that should help with it. It's what you already take in the summer, for the grass pollen."
Ah yes. It tasted foul unless it was in the form of a tea heavily sweetened with honey, and Olruggio was rubbish at remembering to take it, but maybe…
He shrugged. "I can do that. There's no need to get rid of the creature."
"We can make sure to sweep up more often," Agott said quickly. Olruggio was briefly charmed; he hadn't thought that the girl had cared much for the brushbuddy. Perhaps she was speaking more out of concern for her friends than out of her own love for the beast. "We'll make sure the main rooms stay clear of fur."
The brushbuddy had wriggled up onto Coco's shoulder, where it was half-hidden in her hair, but when Olruggio locked eyes with it, it gave a soft "pweeee" that sounded almost apologetic. He rubbed the back of his neck, abashed.
"It'll be fine, girls," he said, and sniffled.
And it was, overall. Taking the tonic, he would occasionally get sniffly or sneeze a few times if the brushbuddy made its way into his tower — apologetic or not, it did seem to be particularly fond of his writing materials, and once or twice his bed — but the girls held up their end of the deal, and they all benefitted from having a stricter cleaning schedule in the atelier.
"They would have been quite sad, if they'd had to get rid of the brushbuddy," Qifrey said one day to Olruggio as they were washing up. Olruggio had sneezed as soon as he'd entered the kitchen — the cooking spices in the air, as like as not — and Qifrey had blessed him merrily as usual. "Thank you."
"And break their hearts?" Olruggio scoffed. "Please. I didn't want apprentices of my own, but that doesn't mean I'm a monster."
Qifrey huffed a laugh, and Olruggio looked over to see the other man smiling fondly at him. "No, my friend. No, you are not."
Quifrey catching an awfully messy cold and trying to hide it because he doesn't want it to spread... but Olly catching said cold while taking care of sick Quifrey
✦ hiiii !!!!! anon!!!!!! i want u to know that this hasnt left my brain from the moment you sent it. this is the first thing ive finished in so long. i wish it was longer and had more snz, but im so rusty T_T pls enjoy!!!!
Qifrey knows Olruggio. Knows almost everything, after years of being together, his tells and behaviors, and he loves it, aside from when it goes the other way around. Olruggio isn't easily decieved by him, no matter what he tries. Qifrey can tell from the sideways look he gets at breakfast while he’s resisting the urge to cradle his head in his hands.
He had woken up late after turning in early, exhaustion seemingly triggered by the rain that had been pelting the atelier for a few days now, making his head throb. Upon waking up that morning, he realized it was only actually accentuating an existing pain, starting under his eyes and working its way into his temples. He had scrambled up to find the girls already awake, and came up with some flimsy excuse that none of them bought. It's his own fault for having such smart apprentices, but he would appreciate it if they gave him some slack.
As is his usual luck, it's one of the few days Olruggio is awake before noon. While Qifrey struggles not to slump against the wall of their kitchen as his apprentices eat their breakfast in the other room, easily entertained by their own ideas, thank goodness, because Qifrey’s throat feels thick and the vibration of his own voice echoes through his head in sharp pains, Olruggio staggers downstairs and into the room, likely in search of coffee. His hair is mussed, and he's still blinking away sleep, but when his eyes lock with Qifrey’s they hesitate for a moment too long.
Qifrey tries to smile, but it makes Olruggio’s brows furrow, so he just turns away to gently wipe his nose against his wrist. He’s been caught like always. It’d be easier to hold up the facade if Olruggio didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, because he just feels guilty lying to him. He sighs with defeat when Olruggio leans against the counter and levels him with a stern look.
“You look awful.” Olruggio says, voice still rough. Qifrey sniffles again, nose irritated by the steam wafting off the bowls of oatmeal in front of him, feeling all too much like he's advertising his symptoms. “I’m quite alright.” He says, and his voice is just as congested as he feared it would be. How embarrassing he is. “Just a cold.”
Olruggio huffs, leaning over to gruffly force a hand against Qifrey’s forehead that he's a bit too unsteady to dodge. “Jus’ a cold.” He murmurs. “You’re awfully warm for that.” Qifrey smiles again, suddenly finding his nose itchy. He pushes olruggio’s hand away, not unkindly, and steps back a bit to create space, waving a halfhearted hand in front of his face. “Not at all,” He can’t help the wince that comes across his face, the feeling aggravating both his sinus’ and his headache. “I’m merely warm from bearing near the stove. I’m in a fine state to-” has to pause to press a knuckle against his nose, which ends up having the opposite effect. The itch crescendos, so he has to whip around in an attempt to protect Olruggio from the worst of his symptoms.
“ ‘chT-!" he has to pause for a moment, curled over into his wrist, until his vision returns from static and he can feel anything but the thundering pulsing of his own skull. After a few deep breaths, he manages to straighten up and almost-look Olruggio in the eye. He looks annoyed, but not in the way he does when dealing with frustrating clients or mental blocks. He looks, frustrated, almost, closer to when their girls stubbornly refuse rest, or even Qifrey, sometimes. It's not a look he likes very much when it's placed onto himself.
“Go to bed.” Never one to mince his words, Olruggio tells him flat out. “You’re going to fall over.” Qifrey was perfectly able to come to that conclusion himself, because there is still grey towards the corners of his vision, and his legs are starting to get suspiciously shaky. It's not something his lovely Olruggio should be seeing, though. Having his own weakness thrown back at him sparks an age-old defensiveness every time, like a cat backed into a corner. He sort of wants to snarl.
“The girls need a master present.” He grits out instead between clenched teeth. Olurggio sighs, looking worn already, drags a hand down his face. “I’ll watch ‘em. I’m basically their master already.” He makes a shoo-ing motion. “Go off to bed before they start worryin’.” It's a bit lowbrow to bring them into this, but Qifrey can’t argue it, no matter how much his skin is prickling with desire to fight back. He sniffles against the back of his hand again instead of replying, starting to stumble his way upstairs to his chambers. Olruggio’s shoulders are tense as he passes, and his eyes look even more tired than normal, even though he doesn’t have any upcoming deadlines that he’s heard about. Not that he's been a good listener these past few days.
••●━━━ 𖤓 ━━━●••
His room is dark when he wakes up. Intentionally, surely, because he had been too tired to bother closing his own blinds when he collapsed against his bed, had fallen asleep with his head buried into the pillow to try to drown the light out. There’s only one person that would be in here, so he squints against the dark shapes, ignoring the way it makes him ache, and can vaguely make out a dark robe.
Olruggio must be focused, or else he would’ve noticed. Qifrey takes his time getting up, for no reason relating to the way the world spins and heady pressure shifts in his face, tries to study Olruggio. There's the faint scratching of a quill, and Oruggio's posture seems stiffer than usual, like he's focused. Once Olruggio sniffles a few times, unconsciously, because his nose has started running since he lifted his head up, Olruggio looks up at him.
“Mornin’.” He says, voice soft like he knows. “Want a light on?” Qifrey feels his face pull into a frown. “Why not just open the blinds? Natural light is always better.” According to Beldaruit, anyway, who liked to preach on the importance of nature at random turns. Olruggio opens his mouth, then shakes his head like he’s thinking better of something. “It’s the middle of the night, Qifrey.” Is all he says, quill taping an anxious rhythm against his paper.
Qifrey sits up in a frantic motion, almost tipping over in the process. He has to grip the sheets hard and pant for a second, the whole world consisting of spinning shapes and his heartbeat in his skull. He sniffles again, uselessly, and Olruggio shifts around for a moment before handing him a grey handkerchief.
The gentle touch of fabric against his nose sets him off almost immediately. He barely has time to take in a breath before twitching. “ ‘dszhh-!” The shifting of congestion in his nose makes the itch reignite before he manages to catch his breath. He watches Oruggio's gaze as his breath wavers, on the edge, until he's finally set free. “ ‘dSZh - eH’dTZh!” thick and so unlike his usual sneezes, they hurt his throat.
“Bless.” Qifrey hums in response. He doesn’t trust his ability to talk. He's sick of this song and dance with Olruggio. Tired of pretending, tired of everything. He's exhausted, aching, and feels trapped in this room.
“You’ve got a fever.” Oruggio says, startling him out of his fervor. His hands are gripped in the sheets, handkerchief still in hand. He avoids Olruggio’s eyes. “Nothin’ bad, you’re not too warm.” Qifrey sniffles again, pathetically, clears his throat into his shoulder. He’s so foggy-minded. “Okay.” he murmurs. “Thank you, Olruggio.”
Olruggio doesn’t say anything, for a few minutes. Long enough that Qifrey nearly starts nodding off, lulled to sleep by rhythmic noises of anxiety. His quill never stops its tapping, probably bleeding through the paper and onto his sheets. Neither of them mention it.
“Can I just take care of you, for once?” Qifrey finally meets his eyes, through his half closed eyes. He looks more ragged than usual, accentuated by the dark shadows of his room. Qifrey wants to ask him when he last got a good night's rest, when his next commissions are due, when the last time he checked up on the girls is. Wants to ask if Richeh ate much dinner, if Tetia is too hyper without enough to do today, if Aggott even looked up from her studies once. He does none of this.
Instead, he sighs. “Will you take no for an answer?” he tries, to Olruggio's scoff. “Do you ever?” Qifrey can’t help but feel a little guilty at that, sinking back into the bed sheets with flushed cheeks. Olruggio stands, groaning, like he had been sitting there for a while. He shuffles across Qifrey’s room to his desk, full of books and scattered sheets of paper. There’s a bowl on it, and Olruggio takes it before returning to his chair heavily. He reaches out the bowl, full of cool oatmeal, until Qifrey begrudgingly takes it, is slow to release it like he is worried Qifrey will drop it. It lays heavy in his lap. He sets it aside, despite Olruggio's look, and neither of them mention it.
Olruggio shuffles around a little more and pulls a few snugstones out of his pocket. He sets them around Qifery’s form in the blanket, and they’re too warm, but he doesn’t have the heart to say anything with Olruggio’s thoughtfulness. He closes his eyes, too tired to keep whatever it is they have going, and lifts a corner of the blanket. “Come in here, then. You look tired.”
Olruggio gives him a long look, and Qifrey’s worried the fever got to him for a second. But then he stands from his chair, slides into bed without complaint. Their bodies are so close, and wife's aflame. He falls asleep burning.
••●━━━ 𖤓 ━━━●••
Qifrey feels disoriented when he wakes up. He can’t find anything that could have startled him awake, and he hadn’t had a nightmare. He stares at the dark ceiling for a few moments, trying to get his bearings, until he’s startled by a sudden “ ‘rSZCHh!”, and the previous hours start to drift back to him.
“Bless you..” Qifrey murmurs, voice surprisingly present. He must have passed the worst of it, finally. “Are you okay?”
Olruggio makes a thick, snuffling sound somewhere to his left. The bed is still warm, so he must have just gotten up. “Yeah,” he says, and then it’s quiet for a few moments until the floor creaks with his return. “I didn’t mean to wake ya.” He says, voice more rasped then it usually is when he wakes up, nuzzling back into Qifrey. He falls back asleep quickly, but he tosses and turns uncharacteristically. It eats at Qifrey, keeps him awake.
It’s likely sometime after sunrise when Olruggio starts to stir again. He never really settled, and at some point Qifrey stopped trying to help him for fear of waking him up, so his limbs are knotted in the quilts. He doesn’t seem to notice, blinking slowly at Qifrey. “Good morning,” he tries, with a smile. Olruggio doesn’t say anything, just buries his head back against Qifrey’s chest and takes a slow, congested breath through his nose. Qifrey’s heart hurts.
They stay like that for a while. Qifrey doesn’t want to move him, but his nose starts to itch at some point, and despite his fight he ends up jostling him with a sharp movement. “h’TShh-! ‘tSZhih!”
Olly startles up, probably having been half asleep. Qifrey wants to apologize, but his nose isn’t satisfied, so he holds a placating hand and shields his mouth against his other one as he sneezes once again. Finally, he falls back against the pillow, pushing Olruggio back against his chest with a gentle hand. Olruggio doesn’t say anything for a long while, and when he does speak it's rough and painful sounding.
“I think we’ll both be stuck in here for awhile,” he says, and there’s nothing saying he’s mad at Qifrey for it but he can’t help but feel so guilty, especially when Olruggio’s so busy. “Somebody’s got to tell the girls.” Qifrey hums, allows himself the pleasure of running one brief hand through Olruggio’s messed up hair.
“I’ll do it.” He says, without making any move to get up. “I think I may be better off than you are, now.” Olruggio huffs at that. He doesn’t want to move, feeling kind of like Olruggio is a cat that won’t come back if he moves even the slightest bit. But he can hear birds, faintly, and the floor above him is starting to creak with life as his girls start to stir. No matter what he wants, he can’t leave them entirely alone.
So he gets up, and Olruggio watches him leave with droopy eyes, and he smiles at the girls as they trickle in, passing off his own stuffiness as just a bit of allergies. When he serves their bowls, he finds himself suddenly famished, so he ends up scarfing down a bowl in the kitchen while they eat in the other room. Their quiet chatter is so warm, but the light in the kitchen spills out from the windows. His head aches. He has to bid his girls farewell, instructing them to learn on their own for a second day, and return to his room with an orange and paring knife.
Olruggio makes no move to sit up from where he’s sprawled out in his absence, so he sits himself at the edge of the bed. “Are they doing alright?” He mumbles into the bedsheets. “Of course,” he replies, choosing not to tease him for his worrying this time. “They’re a bit concerned, though.” Olruggio hums. “Too smart for their own good.”
Qifrey has to stifle his laugh. “I brought you food,” he says, holding up the orange even though Olruggio can’t see it. Fruit doesn’t count as a meal, really, but Olruggio tends to get upset stomachs when he doesn’t feel well, so he’s hoping it's good enough. Olly groans into the mattress, but he eventually shifts around until he’s sort of sitting up. His face looks pinched, and it isn’t long before he’s muffling a heavy sneeze into his elbow. “ h’rRSZhh-iuh!”
“Bless you,” Qifrey says, and Olruggio makes a lazy flapping motion with his free hand before gasping again. “ ‘rRSCHhh’iuh!”
“Bless you,” Qifrey says again, because he can’t help it. Olruggio’s face is flushed when he comes up, expression still pinched looking. He grumbles something inaudible. Qifrey hands him slices of fruit as a peace offering. Olruggio takes it with a steady hand, holds it hesitatingly near his mouth before starting to eat. Qifrey feeds him slices until he eats them all.
a/n: sickfic, about 1k words, orufrey, as much h/c as those guys will allow,
Sunlight naturally illuminates the kitchen so well that there’s no need to use one of the contraptions Olruggio has set up. The sudden exposure to the brightness sends a shockwave of pain ricochetting through him. He’s over a clock mark late to prepare breakfast, Qifrey realizes upon walking into the smell of eggs simmering over the stove. Placidly, he lets his lashes rest against his cheek and clasps his hands together to find his center of gravity.
“Girls, you should’ve woken me,” he chastises mildly.
“That wouldn’t make for much of a surprise,” Richeh’s voice comes, her back pointed towards him as she slides chunks of cured meat into the cast iron pan.
Tetia’s bright curls bounce in his peripherals as he glances down. “By the looks of you, I’d say you should’ve slept in more.”
“Oh no, no.” He takes a step back, waving his hands dismissively. Did he look that bad? Usually she saved such comments for Olruggio. “I’m more than rested.”
If only his body could be so convinced. Agott slides a plate in front of him.
Neither the steady intake of honeytree laden tea nor ginger he’d self-imposed the day prior had been enough to nip Qifrey’s cold in the bud—he’d realized as much when he’d awoken plastered to a tangle of linens by his own cold sweat. Panic from the uncomfortably familiar sensations of being cold and wet threatens him from the other side of his carefully crafted wall. In a sense, it’s a blessing to not have to search for such a thing.
Ever festering stress makes for a fine breeding ground for these viruses and try as he might, he’s never seemed to be able to get away with a simple sore throat or sniffle. He can handle being sick. He’s used to it all—the distinctive searing pressure that crosses his sinuses to his temples, the deep-seated chills that make him wonder if his bones themselves had frozen over, the shards of broken glass encrusted into the lining of his throat, the endless shifting between a runny nose and a blocked one. All of that is easy. Everything else, comparatively, well, the implications he’d rather not consider.
“Master Qifrey,” Coco starts, “Does it taste alright?”
He jolts when he realizes he’s only eaten half of the prepared egg melt. Now four pairs of eyes are upon him. “It’s perfect,” he assures her with a pleasant smile. Each swallow of his breakfast raises his discomfort, but he lets out a satisfied hum as they watch. In the warmest voice he can manage, he affirms, “And the fact that all of you worked so well together only adds to it. Excuse me for taking my time partaking.”
His next bite is deliberately larger. If only he could really appreciate the taste, though perhaps it’s for the best that he can’t.
Tetia comes to his rescue in carrying the morning conversation and manages to rope Coco into her latest idea for a spell. All of the chatter allows coverage for him to sniffle and occasionally swipe at his nose with the cloth napkin.
“Tell you what,” he says, rising to collect their plates once they’ve all finished. “Since you’ve been so kind as to do all of this fine cooking, I’ll handle the cleaning so you can return to your primers.”
“Are you sure?” Coco asks, cocking her head like she’s nervous about something. “Shouldn’t we—”
“Go on.”
It’s then he sees how much of a mess they’d made in the process.
***
“Mornin’, Qifrey.”
He nearly fumbles the bowl he’d been cleaning. It would’ve been a shame if he’d dropped it, especially given that it would be the last thing he needed to put away. His hands are shaking so terribly that he’s sure drawing a decent spell would take tenfold its required concentration. And he’d need all of that to get through this brief exchange.
“Olly,” he greets warmly as if even speaking his name hadn’t wreaked havoc on his throat. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”
Does he ever? Olruggio gives him a guilty look. “Was up late. Did you save any for—“
Qifrey points at the plate that’d been set aside.
“Courtesy of our dear apprentices.”
“Looks delicious.” He rubs his hands together.
“It is.”
Olruggio takes another bite of egg melt and gives a smile unfettered by fatigue. “You’ve taught ‘em well.”
Always so achingly sweet. Something twists painfully in his chest and he can’t help but cough. He quickly tries to pass it off as a chuckle, though it’d been so resonantly ugly he supposes it’s all for naught.
“You alright?”
“Hm? Ah.” He nods. “It was just nice to see them all working together. Even Agott was helping out.”
Now’s the time to make his retreat. Of course now his nose has chosen another path. He’d managed to keep this under control, but in Olruggio’s presence something always seems to have to give.
The next inhale he takes breaks into three distinctive parts “hih-hih-hehh—” and then—
“nkxt’shh!”
“Bless.”
Perhaps pinching his nose was stupid; Olruggio was looking right at him, after all. All he’s done is prolonged the fit. His pulse quickens.
“Excu-hhse me,” he manages, sniffling behind his sleeve as he searches for a handkerchief, fingers finding nothing as he gears up for another. “heh’CHSHhiu!”
His vision is bleary once again, his hand rests on the countertop for balance.
“Comin’ down with a cold, are you?” The accusation comes with a handkerchief hand-delivered by Olruggio of the torch himself.
He’d hoped to avoid this entire situation altogether, but of course he couldn’t manage that. Qifrey accepts the cloth with thanks and dabs at his nose with it, ignoring that it, too, carries traces of his scent. Harder to overlook by many strides is the calloused palm that greets his forehead, warm-tipped at the fingers, but ultimately a distinct cold feeling at the hollow of his hand, revealing the fever he’d suspected. How he wants to lean into it, to put his hands on those shoulders.
“I suppose you’re right,” he says, arching his back away from Olruggio, and averting his gaze from the concern pinching his brow. With nowhere to back into, he steps to the side. “Could I ask you to mind the girls?”
“I’m meant to…ah, well, it shouldn’t be any trouble, but Qifrey, shouldn’t you—”
“Olly, please, back up a bit. I’d hate for you to become ill too,” he chides. Even in this state, his words flow naturally. Years of practice, he supposes. “I’m sure it’s catching. I'll manage much better knowing they’re in your care.”
“You’re burnin’ up.”
“I’ll manage.”
The throbbing behind his eye is getting worse. Faster. More domineering. Is that his pulse? The headache that never seems to fully leave him? Both, probably. How awful.
Olruggio supports his weight from the side without his permission and begins guiding him to his room. Instead of fighting it, he falls in line, matching his careful pace, all the while, berating himself. It’s all he can do to not lose consciousness, to not give into the warmth only he could provide. He doesn’t ask for forgiveness this time, just lets himself be led to bed and thinks of the snugstone on his bedside table that’s never seen use.
Okay but A has the kink and tells B about it and B is like "hm not my thing but good for you" UNTIL A gets caught in a huge allergy fit and B cant help but watch as they succumb to sneeze after waist bending sneeze and when they finally recover B is like.... oh oh I get it now🫠
hey y'all happy Juneteenth, if you'd like to support a Black queer person in need this month I'm collecting funds for a friend off of tumblr who is fighting homelessness right now. Without getting too much into the explicit details, she's escaped a toxic situation, moved, and lost her new job all in the past few months and now she's trying to raise money for rent just so she can keep a roof over her head for another month. I've done the math and figured that if a number of people give just $20, she'll be able to cover her rent (but whatever you can give is much appreciated!)
