stormysnz

[stormysnz]

Along Came Fire Pt. 1 (Rewritten) - Avery/Blair

This is a rewrite of a previous fic, so quite a lot of it is new. The reason this fic never got finished the first time was because Avery didn't really start telling me who she was until the middle bit. By then, I was like "shit, I'll have to do a complete 180 on my readers and it won't make any sense." The differences were pretty drastic. So, I present to you the brand new and improved version where Avery is acting like herself and Blair is even more intrigued. I hope you like it!

For reference, this is a sketch page of Blair and Avery.

___________________________

Avery checks her phone for the fourth time. No texts.  No missed calls. 

And that was a good thing.

It wasn't that she didn't love her friends, but solo concert adventures were the best thing ever. No keeping track of other people's pee schedule. No stopping for gross ass food she didn't want to eat. Just herself, her favorite music, and two pounds of roast beef she didn't have to share.

Not to mention having her own room. If she even decides to stay in the concert hall's attached hotel.

Which she probably won’t.

Five hours back isn’t a really terrible drive, especially not with an adrenaline high from an awesome show.

But the drive to the show hadn't been a cakewalk. Traffic, rainy weather, and road construction had turned a five hour trip into seven. 

She could use a nap. The hotel staff probably won't let her snooze in the lobby, but at least she can sit for a while and decide what to do next. 

She plops down on the couch and tips her head back with a sigh. Too bad about the nap. It's a really comfy couch.

“Having a shit day?”

Said couch was apparently occupied. 

Whoops. 

Avery lolls her head in the direction of the voice. 

“Nah,” she says. “Just a really long drive.” Her expression shifts to something playfully apologetic. “Sorry I almost sat on you without looking.” 

He chuckles, a low, deep rumble of sound that prickles her skin to attention. And he's got the physique to match the super deep voice. Even sitting down, she can tell he’s not only tall, but basically enormous. He’s spread over half of the couch. Not in that “take up as much space as possible” way, like most guys do, but rather in a “this furniture isn’t built for a large human” way.  “Large” is putting it mildly, too. The man’s forearms are the size of her calves.  Not to mention the rest of him.

“You going to that show tonight?”

That voice. A dark, resonant sort of timbre that is somehow both comforting and intimidating at the same time.  If Avery ever found anyone or anything intimidating.

“Yep. You?” 

“Yeah, I'll be there.”

She takes a better look at his face, since he's looking right at her. Thick, brunette hair pulled away from his face with some kind of bandana. Shoulder length. Strong jaw with just the right amount of stubble. One super dark brown eye. One. . . absolutely not. Golden amber with brighter, yellow rings around the outside and pupill. Which looks oddly slanted. Kind of like a cat, but not.

She squints. Sits up a bit. Studies him without reserve.

He tilts his head. “What?”

“Your eye.” She points at her own eye like he needs a visual. “Pretty cool contact.”

A smirk curves his lips.  “You sure?”

Duh. It was obviously a colored contact. Maybe he's trying to do the Marilyn Manson thing by just wearing one, but whatever.  It's an oddly attractive look on him for some reason. And there is plenty on him to be attracted to. Not that she’s looking. 

Much. 

He tosses an indicative nod her way.  “That your real hair color?”

She runs her fingers through her mess of bright red, gold, and orange waves and ruffles it with one hand.  “Do you think it is?”

“I've seen stranger shit.”

She laughs.  He chuckles.  

He holds out a hand to her.  “Blair,” he says.

His fingers all but engulf her own as she slips her hand into his grasp.  “Avery.”  

For a split second, she swears that the yellow ring around his eye expands. 

Heat suffuses her body and the weight of his stare is like a chasm that threatens her with a depth she can't calculate.

Well, well. 

An unexpected turn of events, a game of sorts that she's more than willing to play.

Her tongue runs along the edges of her teeth in an unconscious acknowledgement of mutual attraction and something resonant and satisfied rumbles from the depths of his chest. 

“Pleased to meet your acquaintance, Blair,” she all but purrs. 

“Mmmm, likewise,” he says. 

A man of few words. Sexy, dark-infused words. Like distant thunder before an impending storm.

It takes her a second to realize that he’s still holding her hand . . . and that she’s letting him.  

This feels way too natural. Almost familiar. A bit like some sort of unspoken recognition.

And judging by his intent expression, the feeling is entirely mutual.

“Hey, Blair, you lazy fucker, you gonna help us or what?”

Just like that, reality intrudes. What an annoying bitch.

“Gotta go.”  His fingers slide away, rough and calloused against her skin.  “Stand in the front.”

“Is there any other place to stand?” 

There’s that smirk again.  “See you later.” 

“If you’re lucky,” she says. 

That gets a laugh.  A real one. For some reason, she has the feeling that this isn't a common occurrence for this guy.

She watches as he lumbers across the lobby to where a shorter dude with thick, burgundy hair is gesturing and talking way too loudly about . . . something.  Hard to tell since every other word is “fuck.” Blair doesn’t even look like he’s listening, but that’s probably because his attention is focused somewhere else.

On her.  

Even across the room, the heat of his stare is palpable, intense but not eerily fixated like the average creep at a rock show.  And the man is pretty hot with his “old school rocker” look, complete with that shoulder length layered hair and a nose ring with a chain that connects to a stud in his ear. Which she absolutely hadn’t been staring at all.  

Although. . .the thought that he looks like he could pick up a few people and throw them over his shoulder like a bag of laundry is a little–

Hot.  The word she’s looking for is “hot.” 

Her phone buzzes and she glances at the thing just long enough to look and find him gone.  

___________________________________

“Yo, asshole.”  Miami waves his hand in front of Blair’s face and the bassist flicks an irritated gaze his way. “You hear what I said about the set change?”

“No.”  Blair leans against the Marshall stack behind the curtain and crosses his arms over his chest.  “Why is it so fucking cold in here?”

“Fuck if I know.”  Miami unwinds a string from his guitar and tosses it at Blair’s chest.  “Here.  Hold my G string.” 

“For your poser guitar.”

“Hey!”  Miami slides the new string into place and fucks with the bridge.  “This is a super high end flying V design that Dean stole from Gibson. You better watch your whore mouth.”  

Blair chuckles as Caspian appears on the scene, all decked out in some sparkly ass sequin pants and a half-buttoned piece of fabric that is trying to call itself a shirt.  

“Oh my gods, Miami.  You just changed that string an hour ago.”

“So?”  Miami fiddles with the tuning gear.  “This guitar fucking hates me.”

“It does not.”  Caspian tugs the thing from his hands and begins to properly wind the string without the use of brute force.  “You’re just too rough.” 

Miami brushes Caspian’s thick mane aside and nuzzles his ear.  “That’s not what you said last night.” 

A short gasp escapes the singer before he gets a grip on himself and shoves his lover away.  “Stop it, I’m in concert mode.”

“Diva mode,” Miami corrects him.

Caspian rolls his eyes, but doesn’t refute the claim. He does, however, rub at his arms with a shiver.  “Whhhhyyy is it freezing?”

“Don’t know,” Blair says.  “But we need heat, not AC.”

“For real.”  Caspian tosses his hair over his shoulder and executes a sharp turn down the hallway.  “I’m gonna find somebody to bitch at.” 

“You do that,” Miami says.  His lips curve into a smirk.  “Diva.”  

Caspian casually flips him the bird as he walks away. 

The singer won’t have any trouble getting his way with things.  Not that he ever does.  Almost like some kind of superpower.  Hmn.  Indeed.

Blair rubs at his nose with a sniffle. Wonderboy wouldn’t waste time, either. Thank the gods. With whatever bullshit his body is fighting, the sooner he gets some heat, the better. He peeks around the edge of the curtain where the opening act is finishing up.  The crowd is rowdy and thick, packed like sardines in the civic center.  Made it pretty hard to find–

“You looking for that girl?”

Blair doesn’t shift his gaze.  “What girl.” 

Miami smacks him on the shoulder. “Don’t give me that shit. The one with the wild as fuck hair you were ‘flirting’ with in the lobby.  If you could call whatever the hell that was 'flirting'.”  

“Fuck off.”  Blair swats at his hand, but doesn’t really bother to actually grab him.  

Because if he wanted to, he would have. 

“Shoulda given her a pass, dude,” Miami says.  

“Didn’t have one,” Blair says.  

“You’re losing your touch.” 

Blair glances over his shoulder.  “You’re gonna lose a hand.”

Miami laughs. “Cackles” is more like it. 

At least Caspian yelled at the right person because the scent of a heater kickstarting wafts throughout the building.  Probably won't be super warm in the next 15 minutes, but whatever.  Spending too much time in the frigid, open air the last few gigs had really fucked his shit sideways.

Science would tell a person that one cannot “catch a cold” simply by being cold.  Blair was a living exception to this assertion. For the last three days, he’d fought to regulate himself, to keep his system from going into that weird kind of “hibernation” that it liked to throw at him, but the rolling power outages in the last city made the hotel damn near unbearable for both Caspian and himself.  They’d spent the night in their respective parts of the bus, but a three hour gig in the freezing wind and a moderately warm night’s sleep hadn’t done a damn thing to rejuvenate him.  

The fact that this is happening more often than he would like is concerning.  Soon, he’d have to talk to—

“Hey, jackass.  We’re on in five.” 

Miami again.  Blair waves him off and crushes the heel of his hand against his nose with a cringe.  Goddamn it, not now.  Couldn’t this bullshit wait until after the damn show?

His breath catches with an almost painful hitch and he growls his way through it.

Obviously not.

“Hheh—hhheh!  HhhehRISSSHt! Hhh-NGTSCHHuh!” 

Well, half-muffling that into his palm hadn’t done a goddamn thing, except create the need for a tissue.  Which is really a napkin. Because that’s what he’d grabbed on his way out of the green room earlier. 

“Motherfucker,” he grumbles as he fishes out one of the hastily stashed squares.

“Dude, get your shit together,” Miami says from somewhere behind him. “There’s like, three thousand people out there.”

“Fuck off,” Blair says for the third time.

He slings his bass over his shoulder and “accidentally” whacks Miami in the shoulder with the headstock on his way to the stage.  Probably should have aimed for his head. 

________________

“Front row” turns out to be smashed between two hyper, sweaty dudes and stuck behind three taller ones. And that’s saying something, considering the fact that she is almost six feet tall in moderate heels. It's more about touching. . . people. 

Ugh, gross. 

Up close and unwanted personal human contact is so not her thing.  And of course—wait, what was his name? Blair. That’s right.  Blair is nowhere to be found.  Not that she expected to find him in the sea of drunken idiots, but she at least wanted to look.

Which she can’t do because of the seven foot douche canoe in front of her. Would vaulting over him onto the railing be too much?

Wouldn't be worth it for the opener. Boy, did those guys suck. They obviously needed a better sound tech.  A better singer might help, too.

Like two cats fucking on a chalkboard.

At least the main act was going to be amazing.  She’d seen Caspian St. Claire before and the man never disappointed.  He was pretty to look at, too, although rumor had it that she had the wrong equipment for that fantasy.  

Besides, as beautiful as he was, her type leaned more towards tall, thick, and scary.  Which she shouldn’t be thinking about. 

But thank the gods the openers are done and the stage is set for the actual talent.  

The crowd erupts into mayhem as the musicians amble onto the stage to start the second half of the show, the drummer hopping behind the kit first, followed by the lead guitarist, and then the—

“Are you shitting me?” She hisses to absolutely no one.

That lumbering saunter.  The bandana with the crosses on it. It’s him. He’s the goddamn bassist. And his gaze lands right on her.  

She stops gawking for a second and gives him a slow, half assed wave. Flips him the bird, too.  Just for good measure. He responds with a one handed finger gun and  a subtle smirk.

Stupid, sexy bastard.

And she's had enough of this “third row” crap. She slips between the drunk, jostling idiots as if they're nothing but a slight detour.

That is, until a beer belly in its fifth trimester blocks the path.

“Hey, baby.  Want me to pick you up so you can see better?”

Grabby fingers fumble at her hip and her eyes narrow.

What kind of audacious fuckery. . . ?

“Fuck off, I bite,” she says.

“Come on, you know you wanna.”  

Of course, he doesn't listen.  But he's about to wish he had.

“Be nice, bitch.”

Oh. No. He. Did. Not.  

She sinks her nails into his arms, growls in face, and twists his wrist hard enough to make him stagger.  

But he also doesn't give up. Redoubling his efforts, he snags her belt loop and jerks her against his stained tank top.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” she half-yells, half-growls over the roar of thousands of people.

He’s got her backed against the barricades with his massive stomach used as a placeholder to keep her there while he tries to grab whatever he can at this point. She's about to go full-on batshit and show him what a huge mistake he's just made. Already, the heat inside of her is rising, her fingers curled like claws.

She's gonna fuck him up.

Until he’s suddenly not there. 

 It takes her a minute to realize just what the hell is transpiring.  The stinky blob is hovering off the ground, thrashing around like a dying fish gasping for air.

Because Blair has picked him up by the throat.

She hadn’t even noticed the bassline was suddenly missing from the latest song until the person playing it had somehow leapt into the crowd.  And boy, is he pissed.

“You think you can just go around grabbing women, you fuck?  Huh?  Huh???”  Blair snarls in the man’s face and for a second, Avery swears that one amber-yellow eye glows like a bulb on a strand of Xmas lights. “I'm gonna fucking end you.” 

“I-I wasn’t—”

He doesn’t even get to finish because Blair all but tosses him over the barricade as the useless security guards scramble to grab him and hustle him off to who-knows-where.  Concert purgatory or something. 

A different set of hands grip her hips in a gentle, but firm grasp and she, too, is lifted over the barricades and set on her feet.

“Stay here.”  Blair is somehow already beside her, his voice a low rumble in her ear.  He beckons to the nearest security guy.  “She’s with me.”

The guy nods and Blair squeezes her shoulder before he disappears around the monitor.  

“Wow, okay,” Caspian is saying into the mic between songs.  “Don’t grab the ladies, you damn idiots.  I’m definitely not going to stop this guy from throwing you like a frisbee.”  

He points to Blair, who looks like he’s about ready to erupt out of his own skin or something.  With the brightness of the light show behind him, the man almost looks like he’s smoldering.  Literally.  It’s cold enough in the venue to see her breath, but this wispy business is coming off his bare shoulders, not his lips.  

Not like she hasn’t seen that kind of thing before in the super cold air, but it’s not that cold.  

Is it?

(TBC....)

[stormysnz]

Hi everyone. Unfortunately I’m going to need the help from the people on Tumblr. I’ve been informed this morning that somebody by the YT channel name “Yeehowdy” has taken my recent wav and uploaded it to YouTube WITHOUT MY CONSENT, despite me making it explicitly clear that it cannot be shared. And you want to know the best part, they didn’t even bother to censor my little watermark 🤣

I now upload wavs onto tumblr on a reason rather than on YouTube due to negative past experiences. Please help me by reporting the YouTube channel, the video, and see if we can find their Tumblr to kick their ass!

[stormysnz]

Someone in midst of a sneezing fit going “j-just one… more” after each one but they just don’t stop. They’ll get interrupted mid warning or not even be able to get one out, but will consistently try to say that there’s another coming.

[stormysnz]

Emoji prompts v.1

Okay I've been motivated to work on my wips for days but the stupid mental block against getting started is strong SO... help a girl out and send some emojis so I can speedwrite some no-pressure-on-quality short scenes to hopefully get my brain flowing again?

⏳ Long buildup

💀 No warning

🛏️ Sleepy

😡 Angry

🔔Interruption

🦊 Animal allergies

🌷 Flowers

🪶 Deliberate

🌵 Inconvenient

#feel free to send em now and i’ll go thru when i get some more time on my hands! #for grayson+sage or noah+sav! #much appreciated #hopefully it’ll give me some ideas to sift through! #even if i don’t get to them for a week or so knowing myself lol

[stormysnz]

Someone who, for the first time, is a sneezy mess as they're petting a cat or dog. They're swearing up and down in between sneezes to the owner (friend, partner, etc.) that they're not allergic to the precious animal curled up in their lap.

Before they realize that the animal is an outdoor dog/cat, and has undoubtedly been collecting pollen on their fur. And that, they're definitely allergic to.

#or it's making their already bad animal allergy ten times worse... #i'm a fan of cat/dog allergies as much as the next person but this is still beyond hot #snzario #scenario #snzblr

[stormysnz]

hmm maybe 💣🌻 for steddie?

thank you for your request! i also included the 🤧 prompt because i had a few requests to write that one as well - i hope that's okay :) also, this was inspired by my own post hehe

As promised, Steve calls as soon as he and Robin arrive in Nashville during the first day of their summer road trip. It’s a yearly tradition, or so they explained a couple months ago - right around the time Eddie and Steve finally crossed the line between friends and something more. Eddie was quick to assure them he wasn’t the jealous type, and Robin was quick to assure him that she was, in fact, 100% gay. 

It was a revelatory week, to say the least.

“Munson residence,” he now quips as he picks up the phone, twisting the cord around his finger. His ears pick up on the muffled sounds of city traffic and what must be the static of the TV in Steve and Robin’s hotel room.

“Eds, hey,” a garbled voice greets, followed by a small string of congested coughs.

Eddie freezes. “... Steve?”

“Yeah?” he asks, confused. A couple more coughs, then the younger man clears his throat, his voice emerging a tiny bit smoother than it was before. He still sounds awfully stuffed up, though. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, just… didn’t recognize your voice at first,” Eddie admits, listening to Steve breathe through his mouth into the receiver. After a few seconds, he cuts himself off with a sniffle so congested that Eddie’s chest tightens in realization. “Still feeling a bit hayfeverish, are we?”

“It’s dot so bad,” Steve insists. He sniffles again, and Eddie swears he can hear the other man’s sinuses squeaking in protest, as if no matter how hard he tries, no amount of air is able to pass through them. “Just deed to get - hH-! … ohhh… snnff! Sorry, mby dose is… hheh, snrf! really itchy.”

“That’s okay, sweetheart,” Eddie says gently.

“Adyways, I just deed sobe mbedicide, thed I’ll be good. Robid a’d I are about to head to the store, but I just wadted to – hHH’SSCHHHIEW!”

He’s interrupted once more, this time by an abrupt sneeze that rattles loudly in Eddie’s ear. He tries not to wince, not wanting Steve to hear it in his voice. 

“Gesundheit,” he says lightly, keeping the phone a couple inches away from his ear in case Steve surprises him again.

“Thhhhank you,” Steve replies, his breathing soft and shallow. Eddie waits, knowing that his boyfriend is gearing up for another sneeze or two. “Fuck, sorry, h-hang od - ahh-! AAESSCHHOO! ESSCHHHH’uhh… hh’snnnnf! SNF!”

Steve manages to move away from the phone this time, but Eddie can still hear how monstrous the sneezes are despite his boyfriend's best attempts to muffle them into what Eddie assumes is the collar of his shirt.

“Goodness,” he says once it seems like Steve has caught his breath. “Bless you, Stevie.”

“God,” Steve mumbles in complaint, sucking in another hard, squeaking sniffle. “Sorry. Doe mbatter what I do, I cad’t - snrf! - cad’t stop sdeezi’g.”

He pinches and rubs at the ever-present itch that’s buzzing around in his nostrils, emitting a wet, squishing sound into the receiver. Eddie’s chest aches again.

“The medicine will help,” he promises, feeling utterly helpless against Steve’s allergies and the miles of distance between them. “I thought you packed some, though? I could’ve sworn I saw it sitting on the counter this morning...”

“... I forgot,” Steve admits, letting out a sharp, sudden gasp as he moves away from the phone again. “ahH’ASCHHHHhiew! ‘TSSCHHHH! … Guhhh... snnrf, snngk!” He sniffles thickly, rubbing his nose a bit more desperately this time. His voice sounds far away when he speaks again, and Eddie realizes he must’ve set the phone down in his lap. “Robs, could you pass mbe the - snF! - the tissue box?”

Eddie hears a hard click as Steve moves the phone to the table, accompanied by the sound of Robin’s voice. She’s too far for him to make out what she’s saying, but whatever it is must be funny, because Steve’s response is another enormous sneeze immediately followed by a laugh. He blows his nose before picking up the phone, still sounding miserably congested.

“Hey,” he says, panting slightly. “Sorry about that.”

“You know that’s the third time you’ve apologized since we started talking?”

Steve pauses. “I… kind of wadt to say it agaid.”

“Don’t you dare,” Eddie says with a chuckle, shifting the phone to his other ear. “Buckley cracking jokes over there?”

“Huh? snnnfg! … Oh, yeah, she, ub - sNf! - she said mby sdeezi’g is goi’g to rupture both of your eardrumbs by the tibe allergy seasod is over.”

Eddie laughs again. “That is if it doesn’t rupture yours first.”

“Ha,” Steve deadpans. “Shit, h-hhhhang od - AHH’SSCHHIEEW! … hh! hihHH! GGKTSSCHHhh! Oh, mbad… sngk! That ode kinda hurt...”

“Sounded like it,” Eddie says, pouting sympathetically. Steve sighs, sounding so run down that Eddie wishes he could eradicate all the pollen in the universe.

He opens his mouth to say something else, but he’s cut off by a stuttering gasp as Steve succumbs to another dreadful itch in his sinuses. The sneezes are even louder this time, scraping painfully against his throat. Eddie moves the phone even further away from his ear.

“HH’EESSCHHHH! snrrf! ehhhh… EHH'SSCHHHOO! sNNf, snrrk! Jesus…”

“I know,” Eddie murmurs, pressing the phone all the way against his ear so that his soothing voice carries properly through the receiver. “Allergies are a bitch. I’m sorry, honey.”

“The bitchiest,” comes Steve’s gruff response.

The longer haired man scoffs, hearing a faint scraping of cardboard as Steve pulls out a few more tissues. He waits patiently as the younger man blows his nose, seemingly too tired to move the phone to the table this time. Eventually, the drenched, gurgling blows start to taper off, and Steve lifts the phone back up to his ear, sounding absolutely exhausted.

“Better?” Eddie asks softly.

“Mm… kind of. snngk!”

Eddie smiles, shifting the phone to his other ear. “Hey. What did you want to do?”

“Hm?”

“You were saying how you and Robin were about to go to the store, but you wanted to do something first.”

“Oh,” Steve says, clearing some more congestion from his throat. He audibly rubs at his nose again, sniffling. “I, uh… wadted to hear your voice, ‘s all.”

Does he sound… embarrassed? No way. Eddie bites his lip to keep from grinning too hard, making a mental note to check in with Robin later and ask if she saw Steve blushing at any point during their conversation.

“You did?” Eddie finds himself asking.

“Of course,” Steve says genuinely. Like he can’t believe anyone would think otherwise. 

Shit. Now Eddie’s blushing, too.

“I… I missed hearin’ yours, too,” the longer haired man says eventually, nearly cringing over the cheesiness of it all. 

He half expects Steve to tease him over it, which is why he lets out a breath of relief when Steve’s response is accompanied by a wide smile in his voice. “You wod’t mind if I - snrrk! - call you agaid later todight, thed?”

Eddie laughs softly, hoping he doesn’t sound too giddy. “I think I can probably pencil you in, babe. Now, why don’t you go take a shower, see if you can wash some of that crummy Indiana pollen off? I bet Robin won’t mind going to the store by herself. They probably even have some medicine down in the hotel lobby.”

“Yeah, okay… L-Let me just, ohh, snNF! AH-! AAEEESSCHHHOO!”

Eddie does wince this time, the deafening sneeze still ringing in his ear even as he lowers the phone. He shifts the speaker to his other ear again, just in time to hear a rough scratch and a brief, muffled exchange between Steve and Robin.

“Sorry about that,” comes Robin’s voice, a shining display of health in comparison to Steve’s. “Dingus will be right back. I’m afraid he’s currently incapacitated.”

“What, did that last sneeze rupture his spleen or something?” Eddie jokes, although they both know it’s not completely out of the question.

Before Robin can reply, Steve bursts into another fit of sneezes. Although it sounds like he’s now on the other side of the room, they’re loud enough that Eddie can hear every syllable, every frenzied, hitching breath that comes in between them.

“hHH’TSSCHHHHIEW! Oh mby fucki’g Gohhh- AHH’SSCHHHH’uhh! -ESSCHHh!” The sound of another extremely wet nose blow filters through the phone, followed by even more robust sneezing that makes Eddie start to feel bad for the people in the room next door.

Robin’s amusement is evident in her voice. “No, but those surely did.”

#dawww this is so cute #their little blushy interactions are killing me #and love robin too! #love it!

[stormysnz]

The phrase “I’ve been like this all day” as it relates to a state of allergic misery is just….*chef’s kiss*

That’s all. That’s the tweet. 

[stormysnz]

thinking about someone holding a really dire realization that the antihistamine they took is working, and this is what that looks like

[stormysnz]

idk how to explain this but i fucking love snzs that aren’t bombastically loud per say, but bc of how much it itches you can hear it revving up against their throat — when you can literally hear how much more flustered they are having the snzs or multiples shoot out of them? KO

[stormysnz]

I’m certain it’s been said/done before, but it’s currently nesting in my brain:  Demon/Dark Force being ‘allergic’ to blessings, Human/non-demonic force not knowing this and blessing them, causing a worse reaction.  “hETZshh’oo-!” 

“Oh, bless you!”

‘huH’RRSHH’oo-!” 

“Bless you again. Are y-”

“ITZZSHHH’oo-! KNNGT’guhh-!” 

“Bless you and bless you again!” 

“J- Juhhst… hEH’DESHHH’oo-! S- stop with t- that… hEH’MMFFZZSHH’uhh-!” 

“With what? Bless you aga- oh.”

“hEHH-! hH’EMMPFSHH’oo-! ASHHH’oo-! ITZSSHH’uhhh-!” 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know that was a thing!” 

“It’s fine. snfff- Just- don’t do it again, okay?” 

“Okay! Christ, you really sca-”

“ITSCHH’uhh-! hahh’MMPFFFSHH’oo-!” 

“Whoops… heh, sorry…”  Cue them figuring out if any blessing causes that, or only ‘holy’ ones (ie. ‘gesundheit’ is fine because it just means ‘health’, but ‘bless you’ isn’t because it’s offering a ‘holy’ blessing). 

[stormysnz]

a person cursed to sneeze when they say the word “sneeze’ but with a twist - they have to get the word fully out to be able to sneeze, and they have absolutely terrible hitches that make that near-impossible

Bonus: their partner with the kink cursed them

Bonus bonus: breaking the curse involves some sort of nigh-impossible holdback task

[stormysnz]

Hey friends :)

Thought it was time I put together a little intro post! (even though i've been around for a while shhhh this is for my own sake of mind lol) You can call me stormy, s, pretty any variation of my user that floats your boat lol - I'm in my 20s and use she/her pronouns!

I write sometimes when I get the time/motivation lol, but mostly reblog things I like on here. Also love to chat and have RPed in the past, so feel free to send any asks or dms to talk snzarios or to set up an rp :)

ALSO: THIS IS AN 18+ SNZ BLOG PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU'RE A MINOR OR NOT A KINK BLOG PLS AND THANK YOU! Below you can (hopefully) find links to the stuff I've written based on the pairing of OCs! Thanks for hangin' around :) Grayson/Sage

Noah/Savannah

[stormysnz]

There is nothing more intimate than your partner asking for help with a stuck sneeze. The bashful plead mix with the soft hitches while their poor nose blush and wriggles? And just the simple act of placing a soft peck or giving it a playful flick being enough to finally hear that awaited desperate sneeze? ✨10/10✨

[stormysnz]

Someone accidentally making their allergies 10x worse? Sleeping over at a friends house and waking up with the friends cat cuddling their face? Instant reaction to the hours of cat dander and fur being shoved up against their face. The cats just like “your allergy is not my fault” LOL

[stormysnz]

I don't even have the words for how forcefully it tugs at my heartstrings when someone is being uncharacteristically clingy when sick. They really don't feel like dealing with lack of gentle touch at all right now and get a little petulant if denied. A little fragile in their sudden neediness.

And when I say "tugs at my heartstrings" I mean gosh it might just break, gotta be careful with this one.

[stormysnz]

Thinking about how people talk through a sneeze. I mean I can see their nostrils flaring and their nose twitching...they rush to finish their sentence.

Better yet, towards the end they can't help it breath catches and they struggle through those final words before their sneeze rips loose! Or equally good, they sneeze mid word!

I can't believe people are innocently being THAT sexy.

[stormysnz]

When build ups sound almost… panicked? Like the person is trying desperately NOT to sneeze, even if that isn’t the case? They just can’t help but hitch, hitch and hitch like they’re desperately gasping for air… hnn.