'Sup snzfuckers I'm Akahana. This is a snz blog only for fucking snz. Pan/Gray-Ace | they/them | bday 1996 | Ask about RP (no minors) If you're interested in my fics, check out my AO3 @ SFAkahana
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What starts off as a rare quiet day for the newest member of Team MZ quickly becomes much more interesting when Corbeau makes a request.
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Your vacation in Lumiose sure has been eventful so far. From climbing the ranks in the Z-A Royale, to calming Rouge Mega Pokémon, to clearing Team MZ’s debt to the Rust Syndicate, you feel like you’ve barely had a moment to rest since you stepped off the train. Your Pokémon haven’t had it easy either, faithfully by your side through the work. You decide you all deserve a slow morning for a change. So with your mind made up you wish AZ and the team a good day before whisking yourself out the door. Cafe Introversion down the street sounds like a perfect place to relax.
*Ring ring! Ring ring!*
The sound of your Rotom phone stops you in your tracks, barely past the front steps of the hotel. You answer.
-click-
“Hello, hello. It’s been a while. I hope I’ve caught you at a good time, I would like to discuss a job with you.”
Corbeau’s faux polite smile greets you. He’s sitting at the large desk in his office, presumably alone since Phillipe isn’t in frame. You frown.
“Discuss a job? I thought you said the debt was waved. Didn’t take you for the type of man to go back on your word.” You know you probably shouldn’t be sassing the boss of the scary loan sharks, but Corbeau always seemed more amused by your snark than offended. This time is no different as his business smile slips into a smirk. He huffs a laugh.
“Don’t get smart with me kid, your debt is settled. No, today I come to you with a request for your help. Compensated of course.”
For a moment you think about refusing, but only for a moment. Despite his questionable business practices and habit of layering threats into his speech, you like him. He cares about Lumiose, and if this job is anything like the past ones he sent you on, then you know it’ll be for a good cause. So you agree to help, silently kissing your lazy morning goodbye.
“There’s an unwanted gathering in the gardens near the Magenta Plaza. I need you to… disperse the crowd, by whatever means you see fit.”
Somehow Corbeau always makes his jobs sound like a contracted hit piece. But at this point you know better- he’s calling you because this is a problem to be solved by a strong trainer. You feel a little flattered that even with all his underlings he’d still hire you to get it done right. Guess he wasn’t exaggerating when he said he found you impressive after the Promotion Match.
“Just a tip before you go- I suggest you bring a fire type, maybe that pesky Charizard of yours. I’ll be in touch. Good luck.”
And with that he hangs up. Never a moment wasted with that man. You sigh before heading out to hail a Lumi Cab, better not to keep the poor groundskeeper waiting.
The problem is apparent the moment you set foot in the gardens. In the middle of the circular hedges stands a group of wild Roselia, rose buds lifted towards the sun and pollen floating gently with the breeze. It’s a beautiful sight, but a problem none the less. Roselia are very territorial Pokémon and have a nasty habit of stun sporing anything that gets too close before attacking it. They really can’t stay here in the public gardens. You take a moment to snap a few photos, a little sad that you have to disturb their sunbathing, before summoning your Charizard as suggested. You can take on 5 at once, no problem.
The battle goes as expected. The Roselia were no match for Charizard’s flamethrower, and after they recover from fainting you’re able to usher them back to Wild Zone 7 where they had probably wandered off from. You weren’t able to avoid getting stun spored though, the tingly pollen sticking annoyingly to your clothes and hair even as the effects wore off. You’ll have to shower later.
*Ring ring! Ring ring!*
It’s Corbeau, right on time.
-click-
“I’ve received word from the groundskeeper that the job is done. Good work out there kid, I wish I had the time to watch the battle myself. I love when I get to observe competent trainers.” You flush at the honey dripping from his tone, a pleased expression settled over his face. You’ve noticed before that for all the scary boss act he puts on, he’s quite generous with his praise.
“Come to my office to receive your pay. I’ll be waiting.”
Once again he hangs up. You contemplate returning to the hotel to shower before meeting Corbeau, but decide against it. He’s praised you in the past for being punctual and reliable and you’d hate to prove him wrong. So you detour only to heal your Pokémon up at a Pokémon Center along the way before heading for the intimidating Rust Syndicate headquarters.
Corbeau’s office is as pristine and expensive looking as always. You can’t help but feel underdressed whenever you visit, especially as you stand there dusted in pollen. Corbeau looks up from the papers he’s checking over when you enter, smiling that same pleased smile. You feel warm.
“Punctual as usual, I always appreciate that about you.” He stands as you approach his desk and slides you the money; 10,000 pokedollars. Too much for the scale of the job, but he said before he’s known to be a generous tipper. As you finish counting Corbeau gestures to the couches, a custom tea set laid out as if he’s been anticipating a guest. He flashes you his faux business smile once again, his eyes letting you in on the joke.
“You came just in time, I was about to take a break. I hope you can spare a moment, I have some rumors to share that Team MZ may find useful.”
So you join him for tea. Who would you be to turn down such an offer? The rumors he shares are interesting; general public opinions on the implementation of wild zones, how much people know of the Rouge Mega Pokémon problem, and the downward trend of people’s trust in Quasartico Inc.’s stated mission. You find yourself distracted though, because as he talks you notice Corbeau start to fidget in a way you’ve never observed of him before.
Corbeau is the kind of man who works to appear professional and authoritative at almost all times, and is usually adept at keeping his hands calm and still. But you notice he keeps adjusting his glasses, and occasionally his expression pinches in a way that doesn’t match his words. For a moment you can’t figure it out. Is this simply what Corbeau is like under more casual circumstances, or is something wrong? It isn’t long before your question is answered.
“More civilians are considering joining the Lumiose Safety Group a-as theyhh…” Corbeau’s words stutter over a breathy gasp, his eyebrows furrowing and his hand jumping up to his face once again. But this time it doesn’t touch his glasses, instead rubbing his nose as it twitches slightly. It’s noticeably pink against his pale fingers.
“hh-h…”
Another shuddery breath has him reaching for the handkerchief in his pocket, a deep purple and embroidered with the poison motif Corbeau is fond of. It makes his nose look even more pink as he tucks it under his flaring nostrils and attempts to excuse himself.
“P-pahhrdon mehh…heh! eh-!”
“K’Tchh- ‘TCHhhu!! hh- heH’K’tchhu!!”
Corbeau snaps to the side, gritting his teeth to keep the sneezes polite. For moment he doesn’t move as if he isn’t sure he’s done.
"à tes souhaits.”
He manages only a weak glance in your direction before his expression crumples and he shudders into his expensive handkerchief with more restrained sneezes. You have to bite your lip to keep from giggling at his ticklish expression.
“A’Tchh- a’khh- hhhH…hH! AK’Tchhuh!!”
A strong sneeze breaks through and leaves him sniffling. As he recovers you can see a tear slip down his cheek, his eyes looking a little red. You start to grow concerned.
"à tes souhaits, à tes amours, à ta santé! Are you ok? You’re not working sick, are you?”
You watch Corbeau carefully wipe the tears from under his glasses before turning to you. With his pink nose and watery eyes, he’s starting to look like he has a cold. You can’t tell whether the color dusting his cheeks could be from the potential illness or embarrassment, his neutral expression not giving away any clues. You personally believe it’s the latter.
“No, I’m not sick- snf! I’ve been fine until…”
He stops short, and his eyes suddenly rake over you from head to toe. Heat touches your own cheeks as his sharp gaze takes you in.
“You’re covered in pollen.”
The simple statement makes you blink. The status effect had worn off so you’d forgotten about the light dusting of yellow that settled over you. You raised your eyebrow in confusion.
“Yes? I got hit by a stun spore or two during the battle. Those Roselia are feisty little things.” You offer as an explanation, still confused. Is he changing the subject to avoid your concern?
“I’m allergic to pollen.”
Corbeau’s admission stuns you for a second, no Pokémon move needed. Allergic? But that’s ridiculous, doesn’t he…?
“But you have a Roserade.”
Corbeau sniffles, rubbing his nose and leaning back in his seat. He shoots you an amused smile.
“Yes, it was quite the challenge to train it. Roserade’s pollen is much less potent so I don’t have much trouble now, but as a Budew it was a menace.”
There’s a moment of silence before a giggle escapes you. After that you can’t help but laugh at the mental image. Corbeau struggling to give commands through sneezes as his Budew looks on in confusion- it’s strangely charming to imagine. You smile teasingly at him.
“Anything for the poison types huh?”
“Of course, poison types are the behhH- huh! NG’tchh!!”
Corbeau stifles the surprise sneeze, not getting his handkerchief up in time to cover. Something about his expression makes you feel flustered, and you decide that now’s probably a good time to leave.
“I should get going. I wouldn’t want to ruin the rest of your day.”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that. You couldn’t ruin my day if you tried. Snf! I look forward to our next collaboration. I’ll be in touch.”
His honeyed words and promising smile run through your mind on repeat as you make your way back to Hotel Z. With your heart beating fast and your face hot, you wonder if poison is supposed to taste this sweet.
lex luthor is a mad scientist and his new muse is clark kent. he is eager to find out what kryptonite mist does to superman, and learns some new feelings along the way.
word count: 4.6k
tags: light mess, yandere (ish), the closet is glass (literally), superman in a fish tank, really bad and incorrect science sorry, if anyone knows anything abt science don’t read this pls im so embarrassed, written with my dick and not a single brain cell, alien, allergies, hayfever, clex if you squint, freak relationships idk,
a/n: i literally know nothing abt dc or superman outside of the movie (which was awesome and david is so sexy wow wow wow dimpledimpledimpledimple) so forgive me for every single inaccuracy in this lmaooooo. i just wanted to write lex being a Homo Freak Loser (bald). i promise i’ll write something normal next i just really wanted to explore this strange dynamic
A cage is too crass of a word to describe the luxurious containment pod Lex built for Clark. This is a gift. A gesture of admiration dressed up as a fish tank.
It’s made of high glass walls, thick and reflective from the inside, so Clark can’t see outwards but Luthor can see in. Inside is a twin-sized cot, covered in burgundy and brown quilts, arranged with the tenderness of a caretaker rather than a captor. Lex isn’t a captor, he’s just a scientist. A round wooden nightstand sits beside the bed, a potted plant at its foot. On top: a silver analog clock, a glass of distilled water, a framed photo of Jimmy, Lois and Clark at a baseball game.
No, it’s a terrarium fit for Superman.
Surrounding of the terrarium is a laboratory, bought and owned by LexCorp, with the purpose of studying meta-human DNA to further modern medicine, science and building a better tomorrow, today.
He came up with the mission statement himself. It sounds nicer than ‘I wanna be smarter than Einstein and richer than Rockefeller.’
Getting the facility up and running was a massive undertaking. But procuring Superman? That had taken years of planning.
Or—no. Not Superman. Not anymore.
Clark.
Clark Kent is his muse now.
There was a very lonely few years in prison, staring at the corroding cement, with those blue eyes burning into the back of his skull. Every time he closed his eyes, he imagined Superman’s straight teeth and deep, cavernous dimples.
It made his stomach roll with rage enough to kill him.
But it also gave him passion. There was a motivation behind his prison break, one that couldn’t be quenched by curiosity. He needed answers. He needed science.
Clark sits hunched over, elbows on his knees, in a pair of plaid flannel pajama pants and a white tee shirt that hangs off of him. He looks… smaller like this. Fragile. Not like the man who once hovered above cities with the sun burning at his back. Not like the god the world once looked up to.
Clark takes off his glasses, rubs the lenses against the hem of his shirt, his hands trembling just enough to betray him.
“I—I don’t know if anyone’s out there,” he says, voice fragile and shy. “But I think… I think you’ve got the wr—wrong guy.” He doesn’t sound convincing. Not even to himself.
Lex had thought the same, once. Had laughed aloud in disbelief when his men brought him a bumbling reporter from The Daily Planet—the guy who spilled his coffee, who regularly volunteered at the soup kitchen, who said “gosh” and kept a bottle of Zoloft in his medicine cabinet.
But then the cloth soaked in kryptonite was pressed over his mouth, and Clark had dropped like a stone. His skin even screamed. Turned gray, veins rising in angry black rivulets across his arms and neck. His heart slowed. The air had been yanked from his lungs.
That’s when Lex knew. That’s when it all clicked into place.
The bumbling fool. The clumsy hands. The cowardly flinches. The incompetent reporter was actually Superman in disguise.
Clark doesn’t know he’s being watched. The walls of the terrarium are mirrored on his side. But on the other side, Lex watches everything.
He steps into the observation deck now, gloved hands steepled behind his back. He watches the way Clark flinches when the mic flips on, even though he can’t see who it is yet. Something primal in him knows. His senses are heightened, maybe he knows Lex’s scent the way Lex knew his.
There’s a beat. Then recognition.
Clark’s head jerks toward the mirror. He doesn’t see Lex, he’s looking a little too far right. His eyes widen, pupils blown. Confusion, then disbelief. Then horror.
“Lex,” he breathes. “You’re… You were supposed to be in prison.”
Lex smiles, not bothering to hide the satisfaction that ripples through him. “Hello, Clark. It’s been a while since we’ve seen one another. Though, I knew you under a different name then.”
Clark stands. Slowly. He’s taller, broader than Lex, but he shrinks into himself, shoulders curling inward like without his suit he’s trying to disappear.
“Lex, listen—I know you’re upset but—”
“You’re mistaken,” Lex says gently. “I’m not angry. I’ve had time to reflect, Clark. Four years, to be exact. Four years staring at the same four concrete walls, with nothing but your face in my mind. Your eyes. Your voice. Your smile.”
Lex steps closer to the glass, his voice soft, reverent. He brushes his fingers across the glass.
“I learned that it isn’t that I despise meta-humans, I despise lack of understanding. I hate what I do not understand. You see, right?” Lex paces along the glass mirror, and to counter Clark sits back on the mattress. He’s too big for the twin size, his width swallowing it whole. “So in my solitude, I decided I wanted to turn a new leaf. I don’t want war, I want understanding.”
He presses his hand to the glass, palm flat. “And now look where we are.”
Clark swallows hard. His lips are red, bitten, worry-wet. His skin glows golden in the artificial lighting, freckled across the bridge of his nose where the sun has kissed him the most. The prescription in his glasses makes his eyes look enormous. Vulnerable.
Lex wants to trace every line of him. He wants to hold Clark’s face in his hands and make him understand how tragically beautiful he is when he’s terrified. How weak he is when he’s not hiding behind Superman’s bravado.
The door to the terrarium opens with a hiss, and Lex steps through.
Clark freezes. Moves back again. But there’s nowhere to go. The cot creaks beneath him as he sits, arms stiff in his lap.
Lex kneels before him, slow, patient. One hand reaches up, fingers brushing Clark’s chin. He tilts his head left, then right. Studies him like a sculptor admiring his masterpiece.
“You’re magnificent,” Lex whispers. “You always were. Even when you were pretending not to be.”
Clark doesn’t answer. His breathing has quickened. His eyes search Lex’s face like he’s trying to find the man he used to know. But Lex sees the exact moment he realizes he’s gone.
This isn’t a rivalry.
This is worship.
“Lex, there are people who need me out there. You’ve got to see that by now—just let me go. The lives I could be saving—”
Lex’s fingers tighten abruptly around Clark’s chin, the gentleness from before vanishing into the air. His thumb presses cruelly into the hinge of Clark’s jaw. A high, wounded sound escapes Clark’s throat.
Lex smiles thinly. “Feel free to take off your shoes and get comfortable. You’ll be here for a while.”
He releases him with a flick, shoving his hands into his pockets like nothing had happened. As he walks toward the door, Clark’s voice trembles.
“And what happens when you’ve grown bored of experimenting on me? What then?”
The door hisses open, electric and final.
Lex doesn’t turn. “Then I’ll kill you.
Lex is a scientist, not a monster, so he leaves Clark Kent to get acclimated to his room. He watches the monitor of his terrarium from the privacy of the observation deck for the majority of the night. Not out of cruelty, just sheer curiosity.
Clark is a peaceful sleeper, on his back, with an arm thrown over his stomach. He wets his lips and crinkles his nose a lot while he’s dreaming. It’s involuntary, it’s fascinating.
At 6:30 a.m., breakfast is delivered—eggs, toast, and a steaming cup of hot chocolate. Clark eyes the tray with understandable suspicion. He stabs at the eggs with his fork, flips them, pokes the toast like it might spring to life. Eventually, hunger wins. He takes a tentative bite, and when nothing happens, he finishes the meal. He drains the water last.
At 7:15 a.m., Lex switches on the mic.
“Experiment One.”
Clark bolts upright, startled. He looks around wildly for the source of the voice.
“I’ve long been curious about your relationship to kryptonite,” Lex says, conversational. “We know the green geode in the physical form weakens you…tactile exposure leads to shortness of breath, disorientation, cell decay. But what about different types of kryptonite? What about different states of matter?”
A soft, mechanical click echoes from the ceiling. Then: a hiss.
From the vents, a faint green haze begins to spill, curling like smoke. The color is soft but unmistakable—glowing a radioactive sapphire, delicate in its danger. The mist spreads slowly across the floor, dense, clinging to corners and swirling across the cot like fog at dawn.
Clark tenses. He squints up at the vents as the first trace of kryptonite-laced vapor curls down toward him. The scent hits him instantly, the smoky, charcoal chemical. To Lex, it was barely noticeable, like charred metal or a burnt-out fuse.
But to Clark, it’s overwhelming.
He reels back, face twisting in visible discomfort, his breath catching sharply in his throat.
“Oh, look at you,” Lex purrs into the mic, raptly focused on his subject.
There is a brief second where Clark entirely loses control over himself. His lip curls up in a snarl, driving a knuckle into the side of his nose. The tickle contorts his face into a desperate limbo, lips puckered as the scent shifts around him. The air grows thick with the heavy scent, nearly odorless to Luthor but so strong for Clark.
“Wh—hH!…gzH..”
Erratically, his nostrils pulsate and his breath snags on the edge of a sneeze. He sniffles deeply as moisture immediately begins to collect at the rim of his nostrils. He wipes his nose carelessly on the back of his hand.
Lex watches in fascination as Clark’s elbow preemptively rises and lowers as he wars with the sensation. This was not the reaction he anticipated at all, but it piques his interest all the same. Is he going to sneeze? Maybe? Maybe not?
Clark’s breath trips on a soft breath, then rushes out in a groan, and then a larger more violent gasp. His chest expands to take in as much air as possible.
Clark pushes out another breath. His voice is whiny and cracks in the center, in a way Superman’s had not. “HHU—Hhhh..”
Then the most glorious thing happened. Lex approaches the glass in awe.
A tear rolls down Clark’s cheek, it skates into the crevice of his nose, down his lips and drips off the bottom of his face.
It’s beautiful.
Lex steps closer to the glass, heart thudding. This is it.
Clark gasps audibly, then again, but silent this time, his face twisted, lips parted in raw anticipation. “hihHh! hHHH!”
The sensation peaks.
“HEHh’TZZSSSCHHHhOo!”
It was the most enormous, throat scraping sneeze Lex had ever seen, and the look of satisfaction never crosses Clark’s face. The glass walls tremble with the force of it, the glass of water tips, a slow splash sloshing over its lip. The clock on the nightstand shifts backward an inch from the force.
Clark doesn’t even pause. His breath catches again.
“h—dJJZSSSHT'uhh!! Oh boy, that rhH…really tiHhckles—hAHhh…HD’ZZSCHHHHh’eu!”
Another follows: deeper, rougher. It seems once he breaks the surface tension, he can’t stop. He coughs, a catastrophic swelling breath catching right on the edge of his teeth. Lex watches Superman press his mouth into the crook of his elbow with a prayer and a cinch between his eyebrows, shoulders quivering as he bends himself in half.
Lex waves a hand. The fog machine stops. The hiss cuts off. The colorful mist halts mid-swirl, the color beginning to dilute in the air. Clark, still reeling, lifts his head slightly. His elbow glistens with spray, wet and slick from the last sneeze. His eyelashes are soaked spikes, cheeks stained rosy and marred with tear tracks. Clark surprises him again, by cupping his hands into small fists and lifts them to cover his mouth and nose like he’s trying to trap the tickle.
“h’ZTSSHh’yh!—KZSCHhh!!” Clark’s shoulders jerk inwards, as he captures the sound into his palms. The harshness of his sneeze fades with the oppressive burn of kryptonite fog. Without such an offensive presence, his sneezes are much more meek—fitting of him. The itch isn’t brutal and consuming, it was needy and flighty, dancing with just a delicate touch. It was euphoric, a gentle tease, feathery and light.
Lex watches, rapt, as Clark’s wet lashes flutter open. His face is pink and painfully human. His breath is still shaky, still uncertain. Another sneeze curls at the edge of his face. He blinks up at the ceiling, breath hitching—
Lex tsks under his breath. The sound is quiet, almost affectionate.
His expression shifts, still cold, but with something softer beneath. It doesn’t suit him. Sympathy looks strange on him, tenderness stretches like an ill fitted glove.
Clark is a dripping mess, an aftermath of natural disaster. Red-nosed, damp, dazed. Lost in a haze of allergic misery, too overwhelmed to remember to be polite. His hand drags across his upper lip, from knuckle to wrist, sniffling wetly. He lifts the hem of his shirt and pinches it against his enflamed septum, dabbing moisture across the fabric with frantic itchy urgency.
The microphone picks up every sound—the wet squelch of congestion, the rhythmic sniffles, the desperate rustle of cloth against irritated skin.
Lex sighs.
He crosses the observation deck and retrieves a box of tissues from a corner desk. When he reaches the door, he presses his palm to the biometric pad. The DNA scanner flashes green, and the door hisses open.
“You’re going to rub your face raw,” Lex says coolly, stepping into the terrarium.
Clark doesn’t answer. Just sits there, dazed, still sniffling, red-eyed and blinking.
Lex crouches in front of him and smacks his hand away from his nose. The damp fabric of his shirt flutters down.
Up close, he watches Clark’s nostrils pulsate, quivering wide and trembling with every slow inhale. But the irritant is gone, and the sneeze won’t come. The tickle lingers… taunting… tickling… torturing.
Poor, pathetic thing.
Lex holds out a tissue.
Clark doesn’t move to take the tissue. His breath is panting, suspended in that pre- and post-sneeze haze—his glassy eyes half-lidded, his nostrils quivering delicately, flaring with each shallow inhale.
Lex sighs, exasperated. “Useless,” he mutters, and folds the tissue neatly over Clark’s flushed nose himself. “Blow.”
That breaks through the fog. Clark startles, eyes widening in a haze of allergic tears. His cheeks flush, blooming a deep, rosy red embarrassment that streaks all the way up to his ears.
“But—I’bm all—I’bm a mbess,” he stammers, voice thick and nasally. “I dodn’t wadnt you to see mbe like—”
“Spare me the sonnet and blow,” Lex snaps, crisply.
Clark’s blue eyes study him for signs of bluff, mercy or anything that might soften. There is nothing but calm, expectant detachment. His stillness confirms that he is serious.
So, Clark blows his nose into the tissue. Wetly. Loudly. His breath shudders as he exhales into the tissue, a long, gurgling honk that leaves his nose streaming. Lex pinches the mess away from Clark’s nostrils with precision, folds the tissue clinically, and gently wipes beneath his nose in a motion. The skin there is hot and sticky with irritated moisture.
Clark, obedient as always, places his hands beneath his thighs like a reprimanded boy. He watches Lex with an unreadable expression, unsure of the impasse they've landed in.
Lex watches him back. He is a scientist first. When will Clark understand that?
A low beep signals the door, which hisses open. A lab tech rushes in, head ducked. They collect the used tissue with gloved hands, seal it in a specimen bag, label it, and vanish again in a breath.
Clark watches them go. Then, after a pause: “You’re bei’g… kind to mbe. I don’t understand.”
Lex doesn’t look up from the sleek interface on his smart watch, where he types out a quick string of commands. “That’s the difference between us,” he says calmly. “You dedicate yourself to misunderstanding me. I’m simply a man of science. Knowledge is my greatest strength.”
He stands and joins Clark on the cot, the mattress squeaking beneath their combined weight.
“And my life’s goal is to understand you.” He adds, with a hint of private humor, “and maybe bring about the demise of Superman while I’m at it.”
Clark studies him like he’s trying to figure out which part is the joke.
Lex’s watch chimes with a message and he hums thoughtfully as he reads it.
Then, something smug shifts behind Lex’s gaze. He turns his head toward the mirrored wall as though he can see beyond it. He sees Clark’s eyes widen with dawning horror in his periphery. Clark scrambles to his feet, snatching his glasses from the nightstand and jamming them onto his face.
“Wait! Dodn’t—dodn’t do this—”
“On to Experiment Two,” Lex says, already bored. “Mix the blue and the purple kryptonite. Increase output by twenty-five percent.”
“Ndo, ndo, ndo! Lex, please! Obviously, I’bm allergic. Is that what you wadnt to hear? I’bm allergic to kryptonite— Dodn’t do this—”
But the vents slid open once more.
A new fog begins to swirl in, thicker than before, a dreamy periwinkle that pulses faintly with radioactive glow. It creeps in through the ceiling vents like smoke from a fire.
It’s even more exciting to witness up close.
Clark gasps instinctively and holds his breath, desperate not to inhale it. His chest rises and locks. Lex remains seated, one leg crossed lazily over the other, fingers folded over his knee.
Clark clamps his mouth shut. His lips press into a tense line. The fog curls and dances around his legs, around his arms and face. It’s inescapable, like he’s trapped in an allergenic bubble.
One second.
Two.
Three.
His eyebrows twitch. His nose twitches harder, disapprovingly. The bridge scrunches faintly and the nostrils begin to flutter, angry red and already starting to drip again.
He won’t last.
Lex, eager to move the process along, stands and reaches toward him. Clark is taller, an annoying fact, but it grants Lex a perfect view. Clark has a long nose, Lex observes. A very strong, prominent bridge, but delicate, reactive tear drop shaped nostrils that turn red at the slightest irritant. The tip is upturned and malleable, already flushed a sweet shade.
From below, he studies the elegant slope of Clark’s nose, the flush at the tip, the way it flares and writhes under the influence of the airborne kryptonite.
He presses his knuckle to the underside, nudging it softly.
Nothing. Too much congestion. Maybe he’s applying too much pressure.
The lack of reaction is unsatisfactory for Lex. Lex frowns, adjusts tactics. He switches to the pad of his index finger and begins to trace gentle, teasing circles across the irritated tip. It’s a featherlight touch, massaging the very tip of his nose.
That does it.
Clark loses his breath, inhaling sharply at the tickle. The second he breathes in, the kryptonite wafts into his system, causing his nostrils to tremble immediately. They flare up and wide, fluttering away from one another. His mouth drops open, silently his chest jumps with four staccato breaths.
Clark freezes and Lex does too, his finger gently placed against Clark’s nose.
Then, in a blur of motion, Clark reaches forward, grabs Lex by the waist, and pulls him flush to his chest, twisting them both so Lex is shielded by Clark’s body. His hitch is wild and loud as he whips his head away from Lex. He sneezes with all of his power over his shoulder.
“IHRRSSSSCCHHHHOO!!!”
It’s a sneeze of seismic force. The nightstand topples on to its side, the water glass shatters, the photo frame skitters across the floor and hits Lex’s dress shoe. The glass cracks beneath his heel.
Lex grins.
“Well,” he breathes, giddy. “It looks like someone can’t control their powers when they sneeze.”
Clark isn’t listening. The tickle fumes and seethes, wrecking havoc on his sinuses. His sinuses are on fire. Clark’s grip on Lex’s waist slackens and begins to attack his nose, furiously crushing the heel of his palm into the side of his nose. The tears are back, streaming from Clark’s crystal blue eyes.
His mouth gapes open, eyes screwed shut before he snaps forward, sneezing violently into the open air. It knocks his glasses askew. “HHIDGZSSSHH’uh!!”
He doesn’t even finish the first sneeze before the next gasp wracks his frame.
“HH’NGXSHT—GUh! G-Gosh I’bm—! HHH’MMFFSHh!”
Lex, watching with the calm of a researcher and the rapture of a man in love, presses the voice note button on his watch. Clark sneezes as the underscore, his curls flying into his eyes.
“Subject exhibits violent expulsion reflex. Pressure from the diaphragm suggests loss of control over bodily strength during the act of sneezing. Reactions to combined kryptonite vapor are heightened resulting in tears, impaired breathing, and multiple consecutive sneezes with increasing force. Remarkable.”
Clark shudders. “L-Lex, I can’t stop—” he pleads, eyes wide and watery, cupping his hand over his face from nose to chin. “MMFFZSSSHHHH! HhFFZZSSHHHT!! HD’ISSSCHHHH—OOHh!!”
The evidence of his fantastic performance is painted inside his hands. Spray, tears, all glistening signs of his body’s great betrayal. Wind stirs around the room, leaving the blankets on the cot fluttering. Lex plucks a tissue from the box and tucks it into Clark’s hands to clean himself up, not unkindly.
Lex waves a hand toward the glass, and the vent shuts with a soft hiss. The mist fades slowly, color bleeding from the room.
Clark blinks through the fog, winded and panting, dazed with allergic misery. His face is slick—red and raw, nose twitching, glistening. His chest heaves as he tries to breathe.
His shoulders jerk.
“Hh—tZSH!”
Lex, already anticipating it, lifts a hand and covers Clark’s nose with his palm. Spray coats the center of Lex’s palm. “hh’ih-iH-iHhZSSSHh-u! hKZSSSHHHh! —KSH’ih!”
Clark grimaces.
Lex cups his cheek with the other hand. “There we are,” he murmurs. “You’re doing so well.”
He pulls a fresh tissue from the box and uses it to wipe his hand clean without a grimace.
“I…I totally just sdneezed on you,” Clark muses, sounding defeated and apologetic. “I’bm so sorry.”
It’s endearing, hilariously misplaced because Lex is causing all his sneezing. Still, he sighs.
“Don’t apologize,” Lex grumbles. His watch is freckled in the crossfire of Clark’s spray. “It’s fine.” He taps the face of his watch, pulling up the data feed and begins another voice note. “Subject exhibits reduced sneeze force once the irritant is removed from the vicinity. A fit of softer— Actually, replace ‘softer’— the term is misleading. Sneezes remain aggressive in decibel and physical output but demonstrate a higher refractory arc, also a higher frequency interval. Strong implication that the subject suffers from human-style allergic triggers. Possible cross reactivity with ragweed, dust mites, etcetera. Investigate common allergens. ”
Clark watches him, blinking blearily through swollen lashes, his hair a mess of dark curls and sweat. After a long beat, a mischievous smile tilts his lips.
“You’re ndot going to bless mbe?”
Lex’s fingers freeze mid-air. He glances up from his watch, startled. “No.”
Clark sniffles, itching his nostril with his thumb. His eyes are big and pouty, wet. “Why ndot?”
Lex swallows, hard. The air is thick with kryptonite residue and something else he doesn’t have a name for. Something awful and unwelcome stirs heavily in his gut. It’s the cousin to rage, and friends with lust.
“I’m a scientist,” Lex snaps, attitude forever his armor. “Not a priest, Clark.”
Clark sniffs, still rubbing his nose with the side of his thumb. He knows exactly what he’s doing now, Lex can tell. He has to know how disarming he looks when he’s flushed and flushed out, all watery eyes, pink nose and trembling shoulders.
“C’mbon Lex,” he croons. “After all this fuss about mby biology? I’bm starti’g to think you don’t appreciate this.”
Lex’s mouth tights. There’s a tick in his jaw, a crack in the wall he so painstakingly built. “That concludes today’s observations.” Lex croaks, stiff.
Clark smiles like he won something.
Lex tosses the box of tissues onto the cot besides him with a little too much force. “Clean yourself up. Tomorrow we will test new variables. Maybe I’ll see what happens when you ingest it.”
Clark huffs and mutters solemnly. “Should I bring wine?”
He doesn’t dignify it with a response. He turns on his heel and strides out, sharp and fast so he can outrun the heat crawling up his neck.
Outside the pod, in the observation desk, slams his hands atop the desk, grounding himself, jaw locked.
He shouldn’t have gotten close, Clark is a bigger evil than Superman. It leaves him low and bitter.
It takes a while for the Saja Boys to get used to their human disguises once they breach the surface. Everything is bright and loud, their bodies feel heavier and harder to move in, and strong emotions cause their patterns to stain their skin like an oil slick. These things are annoying but not totally unexpected. What is unexpected are the new… sensitivities they have. Sensitivities they find out the hard way, one by one.
------------------------------------
Jinu, Baby, Romance
------------------------------------
Relearning how to be both human and idol is progressing smoothly, all things considered.
The last few days had the Saja Boys studying almost nonstop, watching old debut interviews so they can plan their answers to be consistent with their personas. Reinforcing their roles on the variety show will be just as important to the plan as the performance itself, so they can’t afford to be caught off guard by anything. Luckily the questions are usually simple; favorite color, favorite food, things of that nature. But one question is causing an unexpected problem...
Their favorite flower.
Romance rolls his eyes as he remembers the night before. Abby, Baby, and Mystery truly couldn’t name even a single flower, let alone give a reason for why they’d like it, causing Jinu to insist on dragging them to a florist first thing in the morning to pick one. They really could have just looked up a list of flowers and their meanings and picked from there, but Jinu is surprisingly stubborn. He’s convinced that they won’t get a “believable understanding of the flowers” over the internet. Whatever that’s supposed to mean. Baby in particular wasn’t very happy with the plan. They argued for a while until Baby demanded to know what Jinu’s answer would be “since he’s so worldly”. Their dear leader, ever the traditionalist, had chosen Korea’s national flower – Hibiscus. He really shows his age sometimes.
Romance, of course, has already picked his flower. The red rose represents love and passion, fitting his concept perfectly. No need to over complicate things. Truthfully he gains little in joining the others on their excursion; he could choose not to go; but the Saja Boys don’t really do anything alone. Jinu’s the only one who wanders, accompanied by the guardian spirits that are curiously attached to him. Besides, Romance himself has never actually held a rose, at least to his vague memories. Might as well get acquainted.
So the demons dutifully follow their leader around town, dressed casually to draw less attention despite their attractive human forms, until they reach the nearest florist. A bell chimes pleasantly as Jinu ushers them in.
“Welcome! Is there anything I can help you with?”
They’re greeted by a young woman behind the counter, and Jinu sends them a meaningful look before flashing his Leader Smile. It seems it’s time for a practice run.
“Yes actually, we’d love some help. If you wouldn’t mind-”
The Saja Boys fall into character as Jinu makes up a charming reason for why they need to find flowers that represent them. Baby cranks up the youthful energy and gets stuck with Forget-me-Nots for his trouble. Abby flaunts his body with a cheeky grin and gets given Gladiolus. Mystery keeps his voice soft, asking simply for something pretty and purple. They look at a few different flowers, but eventually settle on the Morning Glory for him. Everything goes smoothly, their act encouragingly convincing for their first attempt. Jinu looks pleased. When the florist turns lastly to Romance to ask him what he wants his flower to represent, he tilts his head to let the light sparkle in his eyes as he smiles wistfully.
“Why, I already know what flower I want. The red rose suits me nicely don’t you think?” The young lady blushes pink and giggles at his theatrics, nodding her head. Good. She leads them to the front of the store, presumably where the most popular flowers are kept, to a sea of different colored roses. They’re bright enough that Romance has to rub his eyes as they get closer. Everything in the human world is just so… much. He quickly puts his hand down as the florist picks him the biggest and prettiest bloom of the bunch, handing it to him with a shy smile. He grins back, making sure his fingers brush hers and he accepts the rose. She blushes a proper red. Romance makes eye contact with Jinu over her shoulder only to find the other demon practically beaming with pride. He has to suppress the shiver that runs through him at their leader’s approval. Turning his attention back to the florist, he lets the red blossom rest just under his nose as he takes a gentle sniff, fluttering his eyes prettily.
Well, he means to flutter his eyes at her, but before he can he’s caught off guard by a strange feeling in his nose. He can’t help but flinch back, the rose petals brushing gently under his nostrils. Before Romance can even comprehend the sensation h-he’s… he-
“iih- k’chuu! ik’chuuh! oh...”
He flinches forward with two quick sneezes, unable to turn away from the rose with how fast they overcome him. What he can only describe as an annoying itch blooms in the center of his face. His nose scrunches and eyes water as he tries to recover.
“Goodness, are you ok? You’re not allergic are you?” The florist’s worried voice forces his attention back. Shit, this isn’t going to plan. How can someone be charming like this? …Maybe…? Romance let’s a sheepish expression settle over his face, holding the rose slightly away.
“Aha- I’m alright- snf! I’m n-not sure about your fhh...flower though, sorryhh- hk’cHhhu! t’chu! oh-” he purposefully tries to talk through the itch, twitching his nose after the small sneezes, really playing up looking pitiful. He knows it’s worked when the florist smiles understandingly at him.
“Oh, we can afford to loose a single flower. Don’t worry about it.”
Before Romance can respond, a large hand grips him tightly by the elbow and drags him out the shop, rose in hand. He sees Jinu apologize to the lady before he’s whisked away down a side ally and pushed up against a wall. Abby cages him in with his hands pressed to either side of Romance’s head, flanked by Baby and Mystery. Their eyes glow bright in the shadow of the ally.
“For a demon you sure know how to play helpless.” Abby sounds almost breathless when he speaks, like he’d been holding his breath through his little display in the store. A smug grin flits across Romance’s lips. He brings the rose up to settle under his flushed nose, and sniffles.
“W-well ifh… snf! If we’re goihhng to be idols, wehh- hiih! It’chh! T’chh! uh… we’ll have to use everything to our advantage- snF! IT’cHhu!! uh-”
He doesn’t move the rose as he sneezes, letting his nose push further into the very thing that’s tickling it. And oh, does it tickle. Tears overflow down his cheeks as his breath hitches deeper. Oh god, he’s gonna-
“That was quite a show you put on, I should be impressed.”
A voice cuts through Romance’s mounting breath and something presses hard under his nostrils. After a few uncertain gasps, the need backs down enough for him to open his watery eyes. Jinu’s unimpressed expression swims into view as he presses up against Abby, his finger held under Romance’s itchy nose. His eyes burn even brighter than the others’ as pink streaks begin to stain his hands. Romance simply grins, all teeth and fangs, and rubs his nose against Jinu’s finger.
Purple smoke envelopes him without warning, and with nothing more than a popping sound and dizzying movement, he’s being thrown onto the couch in their small shared apartment. Bodies surround him on all sides and his arms are pulled above his head over the back of the couch. When his barrings return to him after the unexpected teleport, he finds Abby straddled over his lap, looking smug and holding the rose. Baby and Mystery press in at his sides like predators biding their time before they strike. Jinu keeps his hands trapped, looking disgruntled when they lock eyes. Interesting.
“Might as well put on a show for us too, since you’re so keen on performing.” Jinu grumbles, and Romance licks his lips. So that’s what their dear leader is all worked up about. He grins.
“Jealous? -snf! How dare I sneeze for someone else, hhhow rude of meeh... -snf -snF!”
Romance sneezes down towards his own chest, shaking the bodies above him. Jinu’s expression shifts in a way he can’t quite read, before making meaningful eye contact with Abby over his head. Abby looks absolutely thrilled before focusing his attention on Romance. The rose is brought back to rest under his pink nostrils. A demand.
“Yeah, how rude of you. You’ll have to make it up to us Loverboy; how about you show us something nice?” Abby taunts excitedly. Four pairs of golden eyes pin him in place, breath held for his performance. How could he turn them down when they’re this desperate for him?
So Romance smiles sweetly, tilting his head to let the light sparkle in his teary eyes, and takes a gentle sniff.
------------------------------------
Also here’s what the flowers mean if anyone’s interested
Forget-Me-Not: the want to be remembered, Baby gives the impression of someone who wants to prove themself (lol)
Gladiolus: strength and resilience, like a sword wielded by a knight. Abby gives the impression of someone strong and protective, someone reliable
Morning Glory: restricted or lost love, Mystery gives the impression of someone who yearns for something just out of reach
It takes a while for the Saja Boys to get used to their human disguises once they breach the surface. Everything is bright and loud, their bodies feel heavier and harder to move in, and strong emotions cause their patterns to stain their skin like an oil slick. These things are annoying but not totally unexpected. What is unexpected are the new… sensitivities they have. Sensitivities they find out the hard way, one by one.
------------------------------------
Jinu, Baby, Romance
------------------------------------
“5,6,7,8 and 1-”
“-FUCK”
A loud swear and the sound of bodies crashing to the ground interrupts Jinu’s step count. Baby grimaces from where he hit the concrete ass first, only to find his legs tangled up with none other than Mystery. Of course, who else would it be? The Saja Boys have been hard at work perfecting the Soda Pop routine for the past week or so. They look great, steps synchronized and voices harmonized, except for one part. When they all stance change back and forth during Jinu’s solo, Mystery can’t seem to keep his stupid feet to himself and keeps tripping Baby. If it weren’t for him they’d have moved on by now.
“Dammit Mystery, how many times are you going to throw me to the fucking ground before you get this right? The steps aren’t even that hard. Were you always this bad?” Baby snaps, pushing himself up to his knees so he could loom over the other demon. Mystery sneers up at him. A loud sigh sounds from beside them.
“Come on guys, no fighting. We’ll just run through that part in half time until we get it right.” Jinu reasoned despite looking exasperated himself. Abby and Romance stand at his flanks and share an annoyed glance. Romance rolls his eyes, making Abby giggle.
“Ugh, you’re always so easy on him Jinu. What do you even see in him??” Baby glared down at Mystery, studying. The other demon was sprawled out under him, propped up on his elbows, glaring under his thick bangs. The sunlight glints temptingly off his bottom teeth. Baby has to swallow as his mouth waters, fangs suddenly itching. Fuck.
“Well, I guess you can get away with anything if you’re willing to whine on command like a good dog.”
That gets a reaction. Whatever the others have to say is drowned out by Mystery snarling, before lunging to knock Baby to the ground. Baby doesn’t stay down for more than a second. He shifts his weight to flip himself on top the other, though it isn’t long before his ass hits the concrete again. They roll around the abandoned rooftop, snapping their teeth at each other and kicking up dust, until Mystery finally comes out on top. Baby tries to wrestle his arms back as the dust settles, but he’s truly pinned. Mystery’s weight pushes down on his wrists and his knees press into his thighs to keep him immobile. The other demon pants in time with him.
“Alright, that’s enough-”
Someone starts to walk over to break them up, but Baby can’t tell who. He’s distracted by a sudden strange feeling around his nostrils. It’s annoying. He wants to rub his nose, but Mystery’s still got his wrists, refusing to budge even as Abby comes into view. It’s so annoying. Baby scrunches his nose and sniffles, trying to make the feeling stop. Unfortunately, instead of stopping the sensation, the sniff makes it travel from his nostrils up into his nose. The tingle takes him by surprise, making his head feel fuzzy.
He can’t help sniffling again.
The tingling blooms into an irresistible tickle that steals his breath. Baby’s never felt anything like this, light and coying and insistent, making him gasp. Sh-shit…
“snf- Mh-Mystery… lehh goohhh-”
Baby squirms trying to pull himself free, but instead of the weight lifting like he expects, the grip around his wrists tightens. Baby tries to fight his blurry vision, eyelids fluttering. He thinks he sees purple patterns crawling up Mystery’s arms before the tickle sharpens, closing his eyes and gathering breath into his lungs. Fuck-
“ahh… haAHh-!”
“hAK’Tchhhhuu!!”
Oh shit, so that’s what a sneeze feels like. Baby’s thrown forward with the strength of the outburst, curling down to sneeze between their bodies. Even still, Mystery doesn’t budge, Baby’s wrists held firmly above his head. His nose still tickles.
“aH- AK’tchh! AT’Chhh!!”
“ahh… ah- snf! haAhh?? snf- ahh...”
Then something strange happens. His nose still tickles like hell but the sneezes seem to stall. The fuzzy sensation sits tantalizingly close, teasing at his nostrils, coaxing his breath into fluttery gasps. He’s completely out of control.
“Dh-dammit Mhhystery! ahh… snf! C-cant-”
The weight pressing down on him finally shifts, but he doesn’t get his hands back. No, his wrists are yanked farther above his head, pressed together so they can be held down with only one hand. Baby forces his eyes open, his expression weak with the stubborn tickle. Mystery looms over him. His claws are out, one sharp nail hovering just over Baby’s twitching septum. Fuck, he wouldn’t-
The nail barely has to touch him, tickling so lightly under his nostrils, for the sneezes to break free.
Baby pants for breath as he collapses back, the tickle finally releasing him. He’s left sniffling, face hot, and patterns pulsing under his skin from embarrassment. He had definitely sneezed all over Mystery. Baby doesn’t open his eyes yet, listening for the other’s reaction, but he’s met with silence. When he finally looks he’s surrounded by hungry gazes on all sides. The others must have joined them sometime during his fit. Baby can’t stop the blush that rushes through him, their patterns all flashing in response. Is this what Jinu feels like all the time?
Mystery’s finger rubs under his nose to bring his attention back to him. The other’s smile is smug and full of teeth.
“Seems I’m not the only one who can whine on command.”
It takes a while for the Saja Boys to get used to their human disguises once they breach the surface. Everything is bright and loud, their bodies feel heavier and harder to move in, and strong emotions cause their patterns to stain their skin like an oil slick. These things are annoying but not totally unexpected. What is unexpected are the new… sensitivities they have. Sensitivities they find out the hard way, one by one.
------------------------------------
Jinu, Baby, Romance
------------------------------------
Perhaps Jinu had underestimated the difficulty of his plan.
Creating the perfect boy band had seemed easy when he was pitching the idea to Gwi-Ma, having already found four other demons talented in music and performance. Now that they’er in the human world though, the problem isn’t song and dance, but acting convincingly human. The others aren’t transitioning as easily as he’d assumed. They are younger Jeoseung Saja, less than a decade since they were condemned if he remembers correctly, but it seems their memories have faded quickly. Unfortunate, but it’s fine. He’ll simply have to adjust the plan. More than just studying idol culture, they’ll have to study humanity as a whole.
It’s easy enough to charm themselves into a small apartment and swipe a few necessities unnoticed. One of those being a laptop Jinu could figure out how to hook up to the TV that came with the “borrowed” space. Jinu doesn’t enjoy the modern forms of communication, but if he’s going to pull this off in a reasonable amount of time he’ll need as much access to information as possible. He starts by showing the others the variety show he knows he can get them into. He’s been observing the kpop industry for a while, and “Play Games With Us” works the most with newly debuted groups. So he piles everyone onto the small couch and plays a compilation. They watch the show, and he watches them.
None of them look pleased. Jinu feels Abby’s bicep tense around his shoulder as he cringes, Baby sneers in distaste, and Mystery taps his fingers against the rug with nervous energy. Romance sits still on Abby’s other side, hand covering his mouth in reluctance.
“Are these all humiliating on purpose?” Baby grumbles, side eyeing Jinu from the floor.
The video cuts to the next clip, and Jinu finds his face unexpectedly warm at the next “game”. The host has each member sniff pepper to see who can keep from sneezing the longest, commenting on every silly face they make at the camera. He has to look away, itching his own nose.
The video pauses unexpectedly.
When Jinu looks back, it’s Abby with his hand on the laptop. He looks confused when he turns to Jinu, the rest following suit. Nobody says anything for a moment, so he raises an eyebrow.
“Can we do that?” Abby asks uncertainly. The question throws him off completely and it takes a moment before he can respond.
“What?”
“Like, physically. Are we able to sneeze?” Abby clarifies, the others nodding along. Jinu stares, dumbfounded. What do they mean are they able to? Even demons can sneeze, well at least Jinu can, and there’s no way he’s the only one. Have they all never done it?? In 10 years???
“Of course we can. These bodies are made to mimic every human function.” Jinu’s not willing to admit that he doesn’t need the help of a human body, but he’s positive they can do it even if they’re not sensitive enough to do so as demons. They still look unconvinced though, and he feels warm again as they share a look before all eyes snap back to him.
“Could you demonstrate?” Romance asks, tone carefully neutral. The warmth in his face immediately turns to heat, his patterns pulsing under his skin, very visible. The others don’t move, but their eyes glow like lantern light in response, gazes turning hungry at having found an unexpected weakness. Jinu’s laugh comes out nervous as he gets up, shrugging.
“I, uh… sure. If it’ll put you guys at ease.” He tries to look casual, suppressing a shiver as Abby’s hand trails down his back. He quickly strides to the kitchen a few feet away and grabs the pepper packet that came with the lunch they had “ordered” earlier. He thinks about just doing it right there at the counter to keep some distance, but… something he can’t name pulls him back towards the cramped couch. So he grabs a few napkins and plops himself back down; the other demons press in closer, hands touching where they weren’t before, eyes trained completely on him. Jinu doesn’t keep them waiting. He rips the packet open and pours a tiny bit of pepper into his palm, taking one harsh sniff.
The burn is immediate and he can’t help but cough, irritated little things that leave him sniffling. Soon that sniffling turns into hitching as the burn moves up. It settles high in his nose, nostrils twitching and eyes watering as he gasps. The bodies press in closer still.
“ehhe… h-hAHh! N’gT!!”
The first sneeze is tightly stifled down towards his chest, sending a pulse through his body that ripples through the others in kind. Jinu doesn’t get to see their expressions before he gasps into more sneezes.
“aAh-! AN’gt!! -ng’t! -nG’Tchiew!!”
A sneeze breaks through his stifling, and he finally brings the napkins to his pink nose. After a moment of hitching he realizes that the ticklish burn won’t let up if he doesn’t let them out fully. Nails dig lightly into his knees. He lets it happen as he pitches forward.
“AT’tChiiew!! hT’Chhiew!! -k’hiiew! ...snf...”
There’s a moment of silence as he sniffles into the napkins. Jinu opens his eyes to meet four other pairs, bright yellow and very close. Abby’s hand has moved down to hold his waist to keep him seated. Romance presses across Abby’s lap to rest his hand on Jinu’s thigh. Baby’s fingers grip his ankle possessively, and the nails he felt before are Mystery’s; kneeling almost between his knees, bangs slightly askew, mouth open just enough to see his fangs. No one moves.
“No pepper at meal times it seems.” Surprisingly, Mystery is the one to break the silence, and it’s like waking from a spell. The gold in their eyes fade back into their human colors and the hunger tempers into something less intense. They settle back to continue watching the show. No one moves away. Jinu blows his nose quietly as Abby leans forward to unpause the video, and he feels multiple hands squeeze him as if to keep him close.
His patterns don’t fully fade until the next morning.
fandom- totk
characters- link, Purah, Sidon, Zelda
relationship- zelda/link
cw- sneezing, kink content, mess
notes- hi!!! I'm locked in!! So hard!!! This might be my magnum opus. I forgot to include it I think but his ears are twitching just as much as his nose in this because I think it's cute LOL hope u all enjoy it!!! the puffshroom allergy is inspired by @sf-akahana 's fic !!! its literally never left my brain
Link's never seen anything like a Puff shroom. Probably something dredged up by the upheaval, they're long and vase-shaped, and as Link quickly finds out, incredibly itchy.
He's somewhere in central Hyrule, fighting off a minor monster camp at the request of a stable hand, when he feels something land at his feet. His first instinct is to shield himself from some explosion, gasping, but that proves useless as he gets a lung full of something and is sent coughing, stumbling around Uselessly In the cloud of smoke. His nose is on fire, twitching desperately with need of release, but there's no time. He has to get out of there.
Link runs until he can finally see, breath held against every spasm of his lungs. Once he's out, he can't breathe for another reason, though, nose aflame and flaring. He's sent reeling with a rapid set Off inhales, barely avoiding choking on his irritated lungs as he sneezes and sneezes.
“ hiA’tSHh- t'CHh- e’TCHh-ieww! hI'H-TSCHh-! hiD'TCH’yu! t’CHh- eT’tChh-t'CSHh- e'TCHhi-ieww!” he stumbles forward, still off balance, every breath of air he manages to choke is stolen from him in an instant. He needs to breathe, so he pinches his nose between the fingers of his unchanged hand and prays to Hylia for something as he takes in another whining inhale.
“hD'NGK'T-! e’nDT- n'GKT! heiH'TSH-n’GKT! hiH-hiA'TCHh-iewh!!” he finally gets some respite, wheezing into the damp grass beneath him. But he's not done. His nose tickles with such need, and his eyes are streaming, and a mess is running down his face. Scrubbing his nose against the rough fabric of his sleeves sets off another reaction, making his Entire face itch with A desperation he's never felt before as he pitches forward.
“ ‘iISHHihh-yU! hI’ySCHHh-e’TCHhih-yu! hiAh’CHHTt-ieW!” Link whines, his breath coming still in pitchy gasps. His nose isn't even satisfied, still aflame, prickling deep within his swollen sinus. He's never sneezed like this before. He tries to swallow it down, tongue pressed to the top of his mouth as he stands. He doesn't dare to dust himself off.
The trek back to Lookout Landing is slow going. Every time He can't resist the urge to scrub His nose against something, he's left pinching his flaring nostrils, trying to hold off any kind of reaction. By the time he finally drags himself to the landing, the sun has changed positions in the sky, and Purah's staring down at him with an unreadable look in her eyes.
“Jeez, what happened to you?” She clicks her tongue, studying his itch-flushed face, and dares a poke at the skin above his sinus’. It sends every feeling he'd been trying to repress back to the forefront, and there's Nothing he can do but stumble away from Purah as he twitches and twitches from his nose to his ears as he gasps, teetering over the edge, before yet another fit tears itself out of him.
“ y'DSCHh-! eHD’TZzHhih-iewh! hyIHT'DZzsH-yuu! hyI-” There's a hand on his shoulder supporting him, too large to be Purah's, and when he finally manages to look up, there's a soldier giving him a worried frown. He can't hear what anyone's saying, too muffled beneath his pitchy inhales as a whine escapes from his throat. Vaguely, He thinks he registers something about ‘washing off’ and ‘Hylia, bless you!’ ashes sent into more Rapid sneezes.
He tries to gesture vaguely at himself as he catches his breath, but it's interrupted as he's thrown forward with a “hIHt'CHHhi-!” that scrapes his throat and leaves him coughing and wheezing into his elbow. The cover is pulled from him, and Purah tells him he's going to “smother himself, silly man.” And his entire system is shocked as he's suddenly doused in cold water.
The short-circuiting is enough to let him get an actual bearing of their surroundings, and he looks up through swollen lids to see Purah worrying her bottom lip at him, the same soldier holding an empty bucket. He grins Sheepishly at Link. “Sorry, it's the only thing we could think of. You were having a pretty bad allergy attack.” Allergy? He knew what they were, of course, but Link had never been allergic to anything. He tries to get Such across, with a shake of his head that sends water droplets flying from his hair.
Purah sighs. “Well, obviously you do now.” She begins, poking him in the forehead and graciously avoiding his nose. “There are a lot of new things around. Do you know what it was?” So link pantomimes a mushroom and then an explosion, the crude gestures sending Purah giggling a bit into her hand. “Sounds like a puff shroom.” The soldier states, now handing him a towel, Link's not sure of the source. He doesn't ask, too exhausted and still-itchy to do much of anything besides dry himself off.
“A puff shroom, huh?” Purah muses to herself. “Looks like you'd do well to avoid them, chosen knight.”
_ _ _ _ _ _
Resting for A moment in some unnamed forest near Hateno village, Link decides to experiment.
He's a resourceful person, whether through training or by nature, and he's smart enough to understand the benefit of puff shrooms might have in battle. He has 3, stuffed as far back in his inventory as he can manage, and he buries his face in his hood as he takes them out. The sight of the white spores floating in the air makes his nose twitch.
He takes out an arrow, sniffing as the itch starts to build at the tip of his nose. It's not his first time attaching something to an arrow like this, but he's not sure how much puff shroom's exposure his nose can take. He has to test it.
So he stands, taking his bow and aliGning the arrow in its ridges, a subconscious motion. His nose is starting to tickle so much, though, and he scrubs it on his shoulder before assuming a proper stance, staring Down A tree across from the clearing he's in.
inhale- he draws himself tightly, taking a check of every part of his body. He draws his booting tight. He tries to ignore the glittering white powder on his hands, just inches away from his nose. hold- with everything taught with anticipation, he aims. Closes one eye and aligns the bow until the tip of his arrow is staring at the center of the tree. His nose is starting to burn, urgent and needy. He tries to ignore it until his lungs start to demand more air, taking in hitchy breaths. And release- the arrow whirls by his ear, but he can't see if it met its mark because He pitches forward just a moment after.
“y'DSCHh-! eH’TZzHhi-! hyIHT'shHi-yuu!” he manages to peel his eyes open for just a millisecond, trying to observe how well the puff shroom envelopes everything, but the sight of the spores just ignites the itch again, and suddenly he's sneezing impossibly more.
“h'EISHHh- eTCHh'iew! hyH’tTCHHhi-!” he can feel his Nose drip onto his upper lip, he realizes mutedly, but there's nothing he can do about it yet, because everything just tickles so much that he's got no choice but to scrub at his face, failing to realize his hands are covered in the mushrooms Spores. He's hopeless to his own body as he gasps, head thrown back like a wild animal, every part of his face wet and on fire with Need.
He's smart enough to keep his hands away froM his face now, but it leaves him sneezing down his own front, misting his clothes and the grass beneath his feet. Something finally, mercifully gives, and he can finally breathe, Chest heaving with the effort. He needs to sit down, but not before scrubbing His hands raw in a nearby Pond.
He lays in the grass, head still spinning, watching His horse stare at him with judgmental eyes. He paws at his nose, the faint tickle still residing up in the tip of his nose, sending him into a rapid flurry of small, breathy sneezes.
It might be for the best if he doesn't use them in battle, after all. Maybe his horse will eat mushrooms.
_ _ _ _ _ _
It's months before the allergen presents itself again, so Link's entirely unprepared when it does.
That's not the only reason, though. He's come to expect it in battle and at the trunks of trees, but being face-to-face with a puff shroom in the middle of Zoras's Domain is unprecedented.
It's literally face-to-face, too, Because Sidon’s hands are eye level To link, and he's holding one of those mushrooms in his clawed Grasp As he chitters on eagerly.
“Link!! How lovely to see you, old friend! I was just discussing with one of our dear warriors about you!! Impeccable timing, as always, friend! Rivan apprehended this from a bokoblin this morning and thought it might- oh dear, are you alright?” For all of Sidon's ability to talk anyone's ear off, his perceptiveness deserves credit, as Link wrinkles his nose and gives his head a rough shake that he hopes communicates something.
Sidon softens anyway. “You look A bit unwell, dear friend. Have you considered getting some rest at the inn? I must say, the water beds are truly…” As he talks, he presses a cool hand into Link's shoulder. If he squints, he can see the white spores against the bright red of the king's skin. Unfortunately for him, the movement jostles the mushroom just slightly, and spores float up directly into Link's face.
He can't help but gasp as the tickle Ignites, prompting even more concern and even more movement from Sidon, kneeling and talking incomprehensibly to link, whose sole focus is the tickle that's ignited Itself across his nostrils, leaving him in a staccato hitch as he desperately tries to pull away from Sidon's stubborn grasp.
“hIHH! hih-hAh-” “dear me! Have I made you cry, dear friend?! Do not worry, link, I will-""hiAh’CHHTiew-! hiD'TCH’yu!!” unable to move quickly enough, he sneezes into the open air, beads of mist joining the dampness of the air. Sidon releases him suddenly, leaving him to stumble back for a moment.
Can Zora even sneeze? The thought only grasps him for a moment as he throws his head back, the itch not muffled but somehow worsened by the release. He takes in a quick gasp, then another, and another, but nothing's enough to send him over the edge, even as the tickle burns to the tips of his nostrils, his mouth gaping wide and flashing long canines to the world. He opens a watery eye, taking in Sidon's concerned frown for just a second before something about the light or just the sight of that hylia-forsaken mushroom finally breaks the dam.
He gasps, taking in impossibly more air, before pitching forward entirely uncovered. “h'EISHHh- eTCHh'iew-!hI'H-” Suddenly, remembering some vague sense of decorum left over from years of knighthood, he buries himself into his elbow. “tCHh-eTChh’yu! hIH'h- snf!” He gives another wild shake of his head, feeling something adjacent to cleared out, until He's faced with a sudden dampness on his upper lip.
Shame overtakes his relief, and he can't help the redness on his cheeks as Sidon peers down at him with a half-curious, half-concerned look in his eyes. Link gestures to the mushroom, forgotten in his Hand amid the whole event, and hopes that's enough to connect the dots, because if Sidon doesn't know what's wrong with somebody, he'll pester until he does something he thinks will help.
In this case, it does. Sidon breaks his stupor after just a second of staring, whirling into motion with a simultaneous wide step-back and handkerchief pressed into Link's hands, which are hovering dumbly in the air. Despite Link's clear embarrassment, or maybe as a result of it, Sidon grins down even wider than usual.
“Goddess bless you, dear friend!! I've never seen you sneeze quite like that. I apologize for not knowing about your allergy, a true friend should know about that kind of thing!” Link waves off his apologies as he gives an embarrassingly productive blow into the gifted handkerchief. The material is fancy, soft, and tickly enough to warrant a quick “tI’shiew!” into its folds. It's such a contrast from his issue treatment of his nose, as he's so used to just scrubbing it against whatever sleeve he has on, absentmindedly. The difference from the usual rough fabric to this simple display of royalty is enough to send a pang of hurt into his heart somewhere, but he mentally shakes it off.
Without his knowledge, Sidon has started pushing him towards the baths, babbling Something about ‘washing everything off’, disregarding the fact that he's the one that had the puff shroom, though he's not sure where it ended up now. Sidon's absent-mindedness is so familiar that it stings, a strange habit today, but Link allows himself the rare privilege in getting lost in it, Finding himself suddenly exhausted with the day's events.
Puff shrooms and really anything to do with fighting are pushed far back in Link's mind for the moment.
If he doesn't come back to himself until hours later, waking up in the nicest bed in the inn, he doesn't question it too much.
_ _ _ _ _ _
It's such unknown territory that he's not sure what to do with himself. Ganon was defeated, and after long and painstaking months of rehabilitation, they've finally found some peace back in Hateno.
It's a good thing, too. While the house itself is sturdy, over a year of disuse left every surface covered in nearly an inch of dust that took them hours to clean, and left both of them a little sneezy. But now, the house was starting to feel lived in again.
There was the lingering scent of dinner in the air, and sunlight lit a patch of the wooden flooring up like gold. Link found himself in bed, limbs tangled up lazily with Zelda's as he stared absentmindedly, tracing the grain of the wooden floor. His face lay against her cool neck, forehead set against its crook, and he could feel one of her hands working itself through his tangles of hair, brushing out the knotted bits between her fingers. Ever since he had gotten her back, they stayed impossibly close, like 3 months of staying together like puzzle pieces could make up for almost a year of separation.
When Zelda breaks the Warm silence, he can feel her voice vibrate against her throat. “I went to visit Sidon the other day,” she pauses, probably waiting for a response to verify that he's awake. He gives it in a soft hum. “He told me a story about a little mushroom making you sneeze.” She punctuates the sentence with little giggles, only increasing in intensity as he flushes a bit with embarrassment.
She presses a gentle kiss to his nose, and he scrunches it in response. It conveys the annoyance because she giggles again. “No, it's cute. I didn't know you were allergic to anything. I want to see.” That makes him look up at her, wide-eyed with surprise. She smiles even wider. “For science, of course. Would you do that for me?” She asks so gently. He doesn't tell her that he'd give her the world if she asked; he doesn't even need to.
_ _ _ _ _ _
When Zelda managed to acquire a puff shroom, it was so long after the initial conversation that Link had completely forgotten about it.
She comes home one day from some fancy meeting link that wasn't invited To- not that he particularly wanted to go, anyways, with an extra pep in her step that leaves Him making a questioning noise when she walks in the door.
She smirks at him. “Oh, it's nothing. Just something for later.” She winks at him, giggling, and runs upstairs to their shared Bedroom. Links will as a knight is possibly the only thing keeping his curiosity at bay, but he also knows that if he doesn't prod, she’ll usually spill eventually.
Eventually turns out to be a couple of hours later, when they're both lounging out against a tree, full and happy from dinner. Link is half asleep when Zelda jumps out, rushes inside, and runs back out, grinning with her hands clasped behind her back.
“I can finally fulfill our little promise.” She teases, placing her hands into her lap, palm open, revealing a small, grey mushroom. The sight of it alone makes his nose start to itch, and he scrunches up his face to quell it. That's all the time it takes for her to get even closer to him, staring at him with a silent ask. “Do you trust me?” And “with my life.” It is such a common song-and-dance for them that she doesn't even need words.
The already-blooming itch spells certain disaster, but Link can't ever say no to Zelda, so he nods anyway. She pulls a handkerchief out of her pocket, setting it into his lap. “You'll need this, I think.” She teases with a gentle peck to his nose, already starting to twitch.
It takes her a minute to decide how to go about this, evident by the Way she gently worries her lip. Eventually, she takes the puff shroom in both hands and holds it up to his face. She locks eyes with him, anticipation and eagerness and a little bit of something he can place in them, and bites her lip when he leans forward, sniffing in deep.
The effects are imminent. He gasps, throwing his head back, nose on fire from tip to nostril. it prickles deep into his sinus’, so intense that he doesn't know what to do besides hitch and hitch, until he takes in a whiny breath and throws himself forward until he meets a solid weight.
“hiAh’CHHT-! hI’TSCHhih-t’CHh-eH’TCHhh’yu-!!hIT- … hiH - hA'DTCHh! hH'kNGT'yu-! hI'H-” he realizes with desperation that he just cannot stop. Every breath he manages to suck in Is immediately pulled away from him, and they've done nothing to quell the itch. He's curled into himself, trying to hide such a shameful and weak display. But they keep coming, and he's barely able to think.
“hD'NGk't-! hIAH-” His body is short-circuited when a kiss is pressed against His lips, unbothered by the mess clinging to his cupid's bow. “Don't hold them in.” The lips mutter against him, leaving him hopeless in his body again as it finally catches up. It can't be so simple, though, never for him, and he's left gasping, staring up at the sky through allergic tears in a standstill.
It tickles so bad ,though, and he's so desperate. A whine escapes him, high-pitched and begging for some kind of relief as everything in his nose feels like it's on fire. His mouth is gaping open in a pathetic display, chest stuttering with every needy gasp.
Zelda. The thought comes to him like light at the end of the tunnel, and suddenly he's gasping for her, begging for help, and he can hear her Soft laugh somewhere underneath his own raspy, uneven breaths. Then there's a finger tracing the outside of his nose ever so gently, and he barely feels the touch before the tickle is ignited impossibly more, and he gasps impossibly deeper.
..hiDt’tSCHh'yu!” Even his nose is getting exhausted, the fit leaving him panting and his face uncomfortably damp. He tries to scrub the remnants of the itch away, but it triggers a quick, little “hits-sSHh’iew!” That he doesn't quite cover in time, so he's forced to look at the little droplets of mist left in the air as he sniffles wetly.
“May Hylia bless you, love.” Zelda’s voice startles him- in his allergic desperation, he'd completely forgotten he was there, and the realization makes his head spin. He curls back in on himself, shame coiling up in his gut, swallowing hard. it makes A little click! Sound, muddled by the congestion in his throat.
A pair of hands, impossibly gentle, bring his face back up to the light. Every self-deprecating Thought is brought to a screeching halt as she kisses him again, hands holding him in place as he tries to pull away. He doesn't have any good way of articulating that he's gross, so he just makes a raspy-sounding whine against her lips. She pulls away, then, giving one last peck to his bottom lip.
She moves one hand to the handkerchief long forgotten in his lap, using the other to cup his face as she cleans him up. His nose is so sensitive that the too-gentle touch leaves his nose tickling away, and he paws at Zelda's hand as he hitches, feeling his nose twitch and twitch, but she holds firm, handkerchief pressed to his nose, and there's nothing he can do when she rubs his nose again.
“hiD'sHhu - hI'DtsHh! d'shH-yu! hiD'tShh! hiH-! hiDtT-!” They're ticklish and entirely unsatisfied, not nearly enough to quell the last bit of the itch prickling deep in his nose. He holds his breath, fighting every need to take in more pitchy gasps, waiting for something. And Zelda, tried and true, manages to understand. There's that underside of a nail again, tracing down the crooked bridge of his nose, and everything comes Alive with such intensity that he's helpless to it.
“hiD’TSCHHh'yu-! eH’TCHhh’yu! e’TCHh-ieww! oh-” He pants with relief, but Zelda removes the damp handkerchief from his nose, and he's just filled with shame. A knight should never be so weak, so disgusting, never in front of his princess. Her father would probably banish him to the depths for a display like that.
But Zelda doesn't mind, somehow. Instead, she cups his face again, brushes the irritated tears from his cheeks, and massages the irritated skin under his eyes. “Bless you,” she mutters, so impossibly tender. “I think that did the trick.” And she smiles against his lips.
Once the adrenaline well and truly wears off, he's exhausted. His head started to ache, and he was sure he pulled something in his back from being thrown forward so much. Zelda guides him forward, into the house and bed, setting him down with a kiss to the top of his head and a promise to return in a moment.
Link took the time to truly blow his nose, and the satisfaction of it outweighed the embarrassment at how loud it was. Sniffling again sent a “dsch'u!” tumbling out of him, his nose is still abnormally sensitive. Within a minute his eyes are drooping close, but he's startled awake When his hands are guided to a steaming cup.
“Warm milk,” Zelda explains, sitting down next to him with her cup. “Are you feeling better? Your eyes are all red.” There's something deeper in her tone, so he looks over at her, where she's frowning down at her untouched drink. “I'm sorry for making you sneeze so much. I didn't know you were so allergic.” He shakes his head and tilts his Head in a dog-like way that makes her giggle. “Yes, I did enjoy it.” She admitted, leaning into him.
“I've never seen you sneeze like that before,” she continues, pressing her lips to Adam's apple. “It was so cute.” He feels her mouth curve into a smile against her throat. The feeling is ticklish, and it makes him cough. Once he surfaces from his shoulder, he takes a long drink of the milk and hums mostly to test his voice. He's surprised to find it mostly intact, if a bit congested. Link kisses her back, long and gently, on her lips. He has to pull back far too soon, though, unable to breathe through his nose enough not to suffocate.
Another soft fit escapes him- “d'tcHh-! hi’dtshh'yu!” lazily covered by his wrist. Eyes drooping, he feels more than hears the “bless you” from Zelda from where she's nestled against his neck.
I love the idea of someone with the kink who teases their partner by interrupting their sneezes, because they think it’s cute how disgruntled they get when they lose them. Then, to show how “sorry” they are, they help them induce to relieve that stuck sneeze feeling, almost as if getting to be the one in charge of when and how they sneeze had been their plan all along.
I’m likely doing a deep dive into the franchise as a whole soon so I’ll be on the lookout for more clips
Also the funniest part to me is this butai scene (which I hate btw LMAO) happens at the 3/4 mark. And since the first play only covers the first third of the story, he literally just… does not return after this.
FYI for those not in the know, he fought the moon and then the moon cursed him to teleport to a random place in the world whenever he does the snz🥲
He's brought X/ie L/ian's hand with him inadvertently when he brought an arm up to sneeze into, and X/ie L/ian is staring at him wide eyed in a way that says that's doing something for him.
"eh-eh-- hhheh!! g'tcHiew!! hHHIESSHHUHh!! Oh my god!"
X/ie L/ian starts laughing, raucous and almost a cough, and H/ua C/heng can't help but follow along. The timing! "
now that it's done, here's the full comic illustration with its excerpt from chapter 1 of to take; to accept
Bl/air for Benjamin, San/ji for Biz, Ae/ther for @collectivelyallergic
@goodlucksnez's OC Zip
My OC Aubin and @accidentalmistress's OC Zayne (also for @sneezywoowoo)
Tigh/na/ri for @collectivelyallergic and Ji/ao/qiu for @rachwavs
If you like my drawings, and are willing and able to do so, please consider commissioning me, pledging to my Patreon, or donating through ko-fi ☕! You're not obliged to, but every bit helps to keep me living decently and I really do appreciate it!
I’ve been playing BOTW for a while now, and I am in love with the idea of getting a side quest where we have to make an NPC sneeze by getting her more and more sneeze-inducing objects.
