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syilcawrites · 3 years

Note

A prompt (dunno if I should've messaged or sent a note, but eh, I'm used to asks):

Following the defeat™ of Ganon à la Link and Zelda, our favourite pair have settled in Kakariko Village for a bit as a temporary reprieve.

Then disaster strikes.

It starts with spaced-out sniffles. Then as hushed whispers come on the light snorts of a nostril attempting to impede the flow of an oncoming river of muscus. Rising to a crescendo, a throat reddens and sputters in an attempt to relieve an unending roughness that hinders speech and catches on food.

Link has the common cold.

Never has the hero felt so demeaned, so disrespected by the gods. His bones and blood and mind were forfeit the moment he drew the Sword as a child, of that he came to know and accept. But to now be impeded by snot and sebum - no affront could be greater.

So, stubborn as he is, he attempts to go on about his day, training, cooking, collecting - but, of course, fails spectacularly, his condition worsening. Looking from afar, Zelda finds that she's had enough and tends to the matter directly.

Ensue whatever great stuff you wanna write about.

TL;DR: Link gets mildly ill, worsens it by overexerting himself and Zelda has to force him to rest; magic ensues.

Sorry if that was way too detailed or exact for a prompt... I just have so many ideas of my own that I want to write but I just don't have the time right now. Sho, I'm keeping to plans aplently. ☺️

a/n: i loved this prompt and how detailed it was thank u for sending me this it was so fun to write sfauihhaifs sobs... I hope to see your writing someday!!! And hope you enjoy this lil fic (’:

ao3

to chase away a cold

It's been a little over two months since Calamity Ganon had been defeated. Paya had been kind enough to let them stay in her room for the time being, while Zelda recuperated from… well, everything. And it had been quiet around Hyrule since—the significantly decreasing amount of monster attacks had been a blessing for their short trips; they had run into little to no problems, fortunately, ever since they reunited.

But then, it started with a sound that Zelda could only affiliate with to a mouse squeak.

Her wide eyes flit to the ground, where Link was sitting atop of a futon that Paya had laid out for him. He didn't look at her as he continued shining away at his weapons, his back still facing her, pressed against the mattress of the bed Zelda was on.

She shrugged it off, resuming to mess around with the Sheikah Slate in her hands. Perhaps she was just hearing things… it wouldn't be surprising, since she hadn't officially settled into being back in her own body yet—

Zelda's ears perked up as the peculiar squeak happened again. But this time, the bed shook a little. She quickly lowered the Sheikah Slate from her view once more, her eyes narrowing.

"Link, was that you?" she asked, poking his back with her big toe.

He shook his head and shrugged.

Suspicious.

——————————————————————

The next morning, Zelda awoke at noon.

Which was, of course, normal for her. She was never an early-riser to begin with, even before the Calamity.

But Link? He was always up the moment the sun rose. She was a light sleeper, and always heard him get up, despite his best efforts to be quiet. And he never missed a day to leave a couple of fresh wildflowers in the vase next to the bed for her before she would get up to start the day.

But today, the wildflowers at the bedside had been the ones from yesterday—beginning to grow flaky and brown.

And Link was still sprawled on the futon next to the bed, obliviously sleeping away.

"Link," Zelda whispered, leaning over the bed. But he didn't budge. Weird. "Link!" Zelda leaned over a bit further to shake his shoulder. "Get up!"

"Hah?" He flinched, startling himself awake. He sniffled as he looked over at her with glazed, sleepy eyes.

"It's past noon. I thought you were going to help Cado—"

"Noon?" he gasped, scrambling up from the futon. "I told him I'd come by at eight," Link mumbled, fumbling for his tunic and trousers. "We might have to go to the Great Fairy Fountain tomorrow instead, I promised I'd help him find his cuccos today." His voice sounded a bit heavier than she remembered.

She waved her hand at him, shrugging as she stifled a yawn. "It's okay, go help him. I'm sure he's waiting." Zelda quirked an eyebrow up as he sniffled again—he was doing that a lot more recently. "If you need a hand, I can help."

"No, you're still recov—" Suddenly, Link's face contorted up in a way that she had never seen before—he whipped around and sneezed into the crook of his elbow.

"Did you catch something?" Zelda asked, shifting off of the bed to place a hand on his forehead. But with each step she took closer to him, he took one away from her as he shook his head fervently.

"I'm fine," he insisted, pulling his cloak over his shoulders, still facing away from her.

Suspicious.

——————————————————————

Zelda sat outside on the steps of Impa's home, eating pickled plum with her as the both of them watched Link run around Kakariko, trying to find Cado's precious, missing cucco's.

"It is beyond my understanding as to why Link even tries," Impa scoffed, handing Zelda the plumpest pickled plum of the batch. She still didn't have much of an appetite, but Impa had been as observant as she always was, and usually only offered Zelda bite-sized foods that she knew she wouldn't have trouble eating. "Cado loses his cuccos as least twice a month."

"Maybe we should build him a bigger fence," Zelda murmured, giggling as she watched Link wrestle with a cucco he was trying to drag over to Cado's little coop. "They wouldn't be able to fly as easily."

"Those little buggers will always find a way," Impa scoffed, shaking her head. "And—"

A loud sneeze caused the both of them to flinch—Link's well-fought battle against the cucco ultimately failed, and Zelda watched the aftermath of it with pity. He stared in defeat as it scampered away, back into the bushes.

"Link's been a little weird, hasn't he? He hadn't even stirred by the time I was awake," Zelda inquired, plopping another pickled plum into her mouth, chewing slowly. His jog was a little slower than usual, and he had to pause every five minutes to catch his breath—that never happened before.

"He's been staying up a little later than usual, hasn't he?"

Zelda nodded—he wanted to take her to several locations that were a bit further than their usual trips, so they had been mapping out the most efficient way to go about their mini excursion. While Link was an early bird, Zelda was more of a night owl… it did make sense that he would be a little off recently, with a shift in his sleeping schedule.

After he spoke to Cado, probably to apologize for not getting them all today, Link stumbled—he stumbled—a bit on his feet as he made his way to the cookpot, since dinner was just around the corner.

Suspicious.

——————————————————————

By the time Link went into the room to retire for the day, Zelda had already situated herself on the futon. She was lying on her stomach, humming, as she plotted out the last of their destinations for the upcoming trip. She craned her head to the door when she heard it creak open; he looked even worse than earlier.

"How was your bath?" Zelda asked, sitting up.

"Good…" he said, sniffling, a little confused. He pointed at her, quirking an eyebrow up.

"You're sleeping in the bed tonight—and!" Zelda pointed at the cup of tea sitting on the desk next to the bed. "You should drink this up before you go to sleep. The trip can wait until you get better."

"What do you mean? I'm fine," he muttered, rubbing his nose.

"Link, having a cold is a perfectly normal thing to catch—and you just made it worse by trying to hide it. Which you were terrible at doing, by the way." Zelda grabbed the cup and held it out to him, waiting. "Plus, I added some extra ingredients that I think could possibly increase the potency of the medicine—"

"I'm not sick," he said, shaking his head with noticeable effort. "I don't need it, I'm fine. I—I feel better than I've ever had before, actually." He sneezed—and the cough that accompanied it sounded just as painful.

"But I made this specifically for you," Zelda muttered, lowering the cup a bit. Before she could continue to convince him to drink it, he had already grabbed it out of her hand and taken a large gulp out of it.

"You didn't put something weird in this, right?" Link asked, sniffing it. At least he tried to sniff it, but his nose was closed up. She laughed at his scrunched up face as he continued to try to smell it.

"It's a secret," she said, patting the top of the bed. "It's been a long day, you should rest."

He took one more long gulp before handing the cup to her with a satisfied sigh, his smile a little woozy. Zelda quickly grabbed it from him and stared into it—he had drank the whole thing in two gulps. He was supposed to drink it slowly.

He flopped over on top of the bed, burying his head into the pillow.

"This bed is really comfortable," he said, his voice muffled as he rubbed his face into it.

"Hey, you're going to get snot all over my pillow if you do that!" Zelda scoffed, tugging at his sleeve as she twisted around.

"It smells like you," he murmured, looking at her with half-lidded eyes as he strained to keep them open.

"Oh? And how do you know what it smells like if your nose is clogged?" She brought her arms over the bed and folded them together to rest her cheek against them. She had never witnessed him getting sick, even before the Calamity. And to see him acting a little aloof brought warmth into her chest—even though he hadn't recovered every memory, he still treated her with familiarity, which she appreciated. She was afraid of being thrown into a world so familiar, yet different.

But he stayed, even though he didn't have to.

"Hmmm... I can just feel it," Link muttered as he closed his eyes, pressing deeper into her pillow.

"You can feel what my pillow smells like?" Zelda snorted, trying to hold in her laughter. Instead of responding to her, he began snoring.

Zelda would have to remember that including a few sprinkles of nightshade acted as an excellent way for someone to fall asleep quickly.

#zelink #botw #breath of the wild #yes I will be making graphics for the prompts #because they're fun asfhjvf #syilca answers #my fanfics #zealouslinkage

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sickfic-with-kiko · 5 years

Note

“Slow burn sickies who feel queasy for long periods of time” prompt with akaashi who’s got the flu or food poisoning or something that makes him woozy. but his nausea’s not painful, instead his stomach feels like a wave pool or something. since he’s pretty out of it and not in pain, he doesn’t feel the need to say anything. cue bokuto trying really hard to care for akaashi but it’s tough when he keeps burping up huge amounts of vomit with no warning at all

Hello! So…. I’m not dead. I’m here with a new sickfic. I was really busy lately! I translate some haikyuubyu stuff and I started school in Japan this week. I hope you enjoy my writing!

The date was amazing. Akaashi isn’t going to deny that. They’d planned the date for months, and reserved seats beside the windows. Akaashi was comfortably full when the night ended, his oyster dish and caramel pudding sitting in the bottom of his stomach. He didn’t even mind the slight dizziness that hit him every few minutes, or the dull ache in his head.

But an hour and a half later, he’s beginning to have second thoughts. Sitting on the couch and marathoning cheesy action movies with his boyfriend, Akaashi feels slightly off. His stomach is heavy and the contents are sloshing like a wave pool.

Akaashi sinks further into the couch. Sleeping it off is his first thought, but the pressure in his head is too heavy. He’s tired, but sleep isn’t an option. The movie’s plot is completely lost to him.

Bokuto bursts out laughing, and Akaashi doesn’t react. It’s meant to be a funny punchline, but he doesn’t get it. “That’s so dumb, Akaashi!” Bokuto snickers, turning to him. “Hey, Akaashi, you okay?”

Okay? Of course he is. There isn’t anything to be worried about. He tries to answer, but what comes out instead is a weak groan.

“Whoa, Akaashi! Do you have a fever? You’re awful red!” Bokuto slaps his palm onto his forehead, sturdy arms holding him up.

“I’m fine. My forehead is just hotter than usual.”

Akaashi mumbles a poorly-constructed excuse, and Bokuto doesn’t believe any of it to be true. Which was to be expected. Bokuto drapes a blanket around Akaashi, wrapping him up like a sushi roll.

“I’m gonna get a thermometer. Then, even you can’t make up excuses! Mwahaha!” Bokuto says pointedly, wagging a finger at him and slipping off into the bathroom.

Bokuto is a good boyfriend, Akaashi thinks. He’s well cared for, and despite every single person’s expectations of them, Bokuto is the one who domesticity comes more naturally to. He can cook meals that can be eaten without contracting Salmonella. He can take care of sick people without panicking and hurting them by accident.

The pressure in his stomach doesn’t let up, but Akaashi can’t bring himself to care enough. He feels woozy from the fever Bokuto claims he’s sporting, and his nose is stuffy like a clogged drain.

Bokuto seems to take his sweet time, looking for the thermometer. Akaashi wouldn’t have minded, if it weren’t for the rising discomfort in his chest. He isn’t sure what it is, but it’s not something he wants to feel, he knows that much.

Akaashi’s mouth waters, and he assumes it’s from the sweating. His mouth is sweating too, if that’s even possible. Bokuto still isn’t back. He can’t even see the clock from where he’s sitting. He wants to move, but his body is weighed down with lead.

His head pounds, and the ringing in his ears echoes with each passing second. he needs to get up, but that isn’t happening anytime soon. His throat is under attack too. There’s a burn he can’t ignore, and he certainly doesn’t feel good about his body right now.

When he realises what’s happening, it’s already too late.

There’s something pushing against his chest, coming up at an alarming speed. He’s too out of it too immediately realise what it is, but when a bitter liquid rises in his throat, he knows he’s in a shitty situation without help by his side.

Akaashi’s eyes water, and his cheeks swell with vomit. It spills from his mouth with a choked gag, and the only thing he can do is tip his head forward so he doesn’t get puke stuck in his throat.

Tears well up in his eyes as he lurches forward, and heaves up another stream of sick onto the blanket. The thick texture lining his mouth is disgusting. He wants to cry, until he realises he already is. His head pounds worse from the gagging, as if something’s sticking inside his brain.

He sobs, eyes watery and bloodshot from emptying his stomach. It feels like hours since Bokuto left him. A string of spit drips onto the blanket, connecting his lips to the puddle of vomit.

“I found it! It was buried under the hair products…” Bokuto comes back at last, but he’s already missed about three moments when Akaashi needed him the most. He realises this a split second later, when he notices the mess Akaashi’s sitting in.

Tears roll down Akaashi’s cheeks, and Bokuto lets out a mangled yell, jogging to his side. “Bokuto-san, I don’t feel so good.” Akaashi blinks out his tears.

Bokuto grabs the blanket off him, wiping off his face with the corner. “You really didn’t feel good, huh?” If he’s grossed out, he’s good at hiding it. “You need a change of clothes. I’ll get them in a moment.”

Most of the vomit was caught in the blanket, but there’s still wetness dripping down his t-shirt. He shivers, goosebumps floating on his arms.

This time, Bokuto comes back quicker. “Here, I found your favourite sweater! Let’s get changed, okay?” He pulls Akaashi’s t-shirt off, dressing him in his fluffy navy sweater. It’s warm, and the chills are a little more bearable now. “Does your stomach hurt?”

Akaashi shakes his head. “I want to drink something. My mouth tastes gross.”

Bokuto nods, getting up to fetch a cup of water and a plastic basin. Exhaustion washes over Akaashi in waves, and his head tilts back, pushing into the sofa. When Bokuto comes back, he’s half asleep.

“Hey, don’t sleep there. It’s uncomfortable.” Bokuto places his arm around Akaashi’s shoulder, hoisting him up and carrying him to the bedroom. Akaashi lets out a small moan, eyes flitting shut. Bokuto pushes Akaashi onto the bed, patting his shoulder. “Alright, up, up, up. On the bed.”

Akaashi lets Bokuto do most of the work, and he can manage that, too. “Did you get me the water?” He whispers, and Bokuto presses the plastic cup to his lips. Akaashi’s throat bobs as he swallows the water.

“Sleep, Akaashi. You’ll feel better soon!” Bokuto pushes the covers up for him, and Akaashi genuinely feels better. His head still feels like it’s been crushed, though. Bokuto pats his disoriented head, ruffling his hair.

A cool washcloth is placed onto Akaashi’s head, to cool him down and numb the growing ache in his head. “I’m tired,” he groans, and it feels like it’s the only thing he’s said for the past few hours.

A bead of sweat trails down Akaashi’s neck, and a heave escapes his throat. He doesn’t realise he’s going to throw up, until he gags a second time. The vomit presses his throat, and there’s nowhere for it to go besides out.

“Crap, in here! Don’t puke yet!” Bokuto grabs the plastic bowl just in time, shoving it under Akaashi’s chin. Everything is blurry, and Akaashi burps up a thick stream of vomit into the basin. His throat is burned with acid, and bile splatters onto the plastic.

Akaashi doesn’t have the time to speak. He vomits up large amounts of sick, with little time in between the heaves. He can’t seem to stop throwing up, and this time, it hurts. His stomach feels like a towel being twisted and squeezed.

“It’s okay, Akaashi. It’s okay.” Bokuto rubs his back, and Akaashi slumps into him once he’s finally stopped throwing up. “Tell me if you feel like puking again, okay?”

Akaashi nods, grabbing some tissues off the bedside table. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to gross you out like this.”

“You’re sick. You don’t need to feel bad about that!” Bokuto takes the plastic basin and empties it out, gathering a few towels in case of an emergency. “I’ll be here if you need me, so go to sleep.”

Bokuto removes his hands from Akaashi, and sets his head down onto the pillow. Akaashi closes his eyes and sighs. His entire body is sore, and his stomach has exerted itself too much in one day. His eyelids drop closed, and he passes out soon after.

When Akaashi wakes up again, he feels his clothes stick to him with sweat. It’s way too hot in his room, but the slickness is cold against his skin. He shivers. Sickness weighs him down, and his eyes burn.

Bokuto is sitting on the chair beside the bed, nodding off. It’s almost midnight, and the tiredness has caught up to him, too. Akaashi decides to sleep again, until water starts pooling in his mouth.

A burp forces its way out of him, and he realises too late that he’s going to vomit again. The plastic basin is out of his reach. He can already feel liquid hitting the back of his throat.

Akaashi grabs a towel beside his head, the only thing within his reach. He presses it against his mouth, attempting to control the damage he’ll potentially cause. A gag rips out of his throat, and a splash of watery vomit soaks the towel.

He can’t seem to breathe properly. The heaving doesn’t stop, and more vomit pours from his mouth, staining the fabric. He coughs out a string of bitter bile, and Bokuto wakes up. “Did you throw up? Are you okay?”

“I just want it to stop,” Akaashi whimpers, in between painful heaves. “Everything hurts.” Refuse drips down from his chin, and he’s trembling uncontrollably.

Bokuto hands him more towels, and places the soiled one into the basin. “I know. That’s a pretty nasty case of stomach flu you have, huh?” He wipes Akaashi’s face and caresses his cheek softly.

Akaashi nods. “I think I’ve already thrown up everything I’ve ever eaten,” he says, voice scratchy from the gagging. He reaches for Bokuto’s hands and presses them onto his cheeks. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

Bokuto kisses the top of Akaashi’s head affectionately, ignoring the fact that he’s been throwing up for the past few hours. “I love you, Akaashi! It’s my job as the golden boyfriend to take care of you!”

Of course, that was the kind of person Bokuto was. Akaashi cracks a smile, and Bokuto wraps him in a blanket. He’s truly blessed with an angel for a boyfriend.

#sickfic #bokuaka #akaashi keiji #Bokuto Koutarou #haikyuu sickfic #emeto

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emrysblu · 6 years

Note

Steamy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Steamy

“Ngh,” Nico grunts. He rubs at his face trying to get rid ofthe moisture gathering at the corners of his eyes. “Will, stop- what are-” He sounds like a clogged pipe, so he sniffs and clears his throat but the phlegm chokes him and makes him sound disgusting, ugh. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this, least of all his boyfriend- his hot blond, not-sick, annoying, healer, boyfriend who had to drag him out of his disgusting (but comfortable) cave of misery, better known as the Hades Cabin.

Thankfully, as a professional of the healing arts, Will was kind enough not to look put off by the current state of his snotty, whiny, goth boyfriend. Instead, his face showed only concern and a great deal of exasperation as Nico turned his head to subtly blow his nose on some used tissue paper which he then pocketed.

“Nico,” Will began in an exasperated tone and if Nico was in his right state of mind, he’d be annoyed with Will’s pushiness and shadow-travel the hell out of there… but the stupid cold has stripped down his usual emotional defenses and the only thing he wanted to do was lay down, burrow himself in pillows, and whine at Will to cuddle him to death (or at least until he gets better enough to feel embarrassed about how needy he is when sick). “This is for your own good.”

“Noooo,” Nico shakes his head and then stumbles at how dizzy that makes him. The runny nose made it sound like he was saying ‘nuuuu’ (and great, let’s just add ‘sounding like a whiny kid’ to the list of things to be embarrassed about when he has regained his sanity from this stupid cold).“I don’t even know where you’re taking me.” And wow, those words sounded better in his head, they come out more like ‘Dn’t ebin nu wer yer tikn nee’.

And of course, Will, head healer of camp who has overseen the recovery of, maybe, hundreds of cold-stricken patients whose speech has been turned into gibberish because of phlegm, managed to decipher his boyfriend’s complaints easily, “I told you, we’re going to the Steam Cabin.” He says patiently as he half carries, half drags the son of Hades into a small cabin a few feet away from the Camp Infirmary. “The Hephaestus kids managed to finish it in time before the flu season, which is good news for us. I mean sure, we have ambrosia and unicorn’s draught for injuries or sickness- but sometimes there are so manysick people that we run out of them! So it’s good to have a back up plan. And nothing beats good old steam. Steamcan improve health in so many ways! It improves blood circulation, lowers blood pressure-”

As usual, whenever Will gets too into the medical benefits of things, Nico zones out. His chatter was like a soft lullaby lulling him into a false sense of security with how boring it was. He doesn’t even realize he’s fallen into a light doze until Will nudges him awake in a room full of smoke.

“Wha-” Nico jerks awake and inhales sharply, finding to his joy, that he can actually breathe in properly now. “What happ’nd?” He asks, his voice awed but still a little slurred from sleep and sickness.

“The magic of steam.” Came a familiar smug tone.

Nico blinks rapidly as he slowly becomes aware of threethings. One, it’s really hot, whichis probably why, two, there was steam everywhere. And three, the smug voice came from his blond boyfriend who was currently wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.

Nico blushes so suddenly that he feels dizzy and lists to the side.

“Whoa!” Will, being the reliable medic he is, manages to catch the other teen before he fell to the floor in a heap of embarrassment.

“How is this thing supposed to lower blood pressure again?” Nico asks faintly to the relief of Will.

“Because of the steam, your body releases a hormone, called aldosterone, which regulates your blood pressure.” Will lays Nico down gently,brushing his bangs from his forehead, “But mostly we’re here to clear your congestion and encourage deep breathing. But we can’t stay too long or you’ll become dehydrated.”

Nico sniffs, “At least I sound human again.” A pause and then he whispers, “Why are you naked?”

Will blinks and then, unable to help himself, he laughs, “You clearly have your priorities straight. Why? Does it bother you?” He teased.

Nico feels like he achieves a new level of blushing today, as he turns his head to the side. He keeps his mouth pursed, not wanting to bemade fun of any further.

Will laughs again, “Sorry, I just- I can’t leave a sick person alone in the steam room. I need to be here to see how much steam you can take before we get you back to bed. And I can’t exactly stay in the steam room fully clothed, I’ll overheat. Also, I’m not naked, I have a towel preserving my modesty and so do you.” He tells Nico, reminding him, he wasn’t the only one not fully clothed in the room.

At those words, Nico has never been more aware and surprised (and freakin’ embarrassed) by the fact that, why yes, aside from Will Solace, he too was only clad in a towel.

“Oops,” Will says as Nico tries to become one with the floor again, “I think that’s enough steam for now, let’s get out of here.” He drags Nico upright and towards the changing room section of the cabin.

“Please, just put me out of my misery,” Nico groans as here realizes the blond will have to dress him to get him out of the Steam cabin or whatever this miserable place was called. “Or at least let me put on my underwear myself. Or better yet, let me shadow travel to my cabin as I am so I can forget about today and not add any more stupid stuff to my list of ‘things I’ll be embarrassed about later’.”

Will rolls his eyes, “Don’t be dramatic. As head medic, I’ve experienced worse patients than you, and as your boyfriend, I’ve seen basically everything of naked you.”

Nico tries to shoot him an annoyed look despite how woozy he feels, “Yes, but you haven’t seen snotty, sweaty, sick naked me yet. And I’d rather keep it that way.”

“You’re not making sense, naked you is still naked you whethersick or not, only with phlegm.” Will says patiently as he efficiently dresses his boyfriend while he was distracted with their conversation. When he finishes, he dresses himself quickly, then, kisses Nico on the forehead before looking straight into hazy eyes. “But I want you to know that I’m doing this not because I’m head medic of the Camp but because I’m worried about you and I don’t trust, or want, anyone else to take care of you. I’m happy that I can at least do this for you and I like that only I get to see this side of you and help you get better.”

Nico blinks slowly trying to process the barrage of words with his overheated mind. All he could come up with was, “So… you don’t think I’m gross when I’m sick?”

The blond smiled at him helplessly, “I think, and you’ll probably punch me later for this when you’re thinking straight again- I think you’re adorable, sick or not. And like I said, I’ve seen worse. Nothing surprises me anymore, and I’ll still love you even if you drool, bleed, or puke all over me. Which, for the record, has already happened to me countless of times, sometimes, even at the same time. So no, you are not gross, you’re my adorably sick boyfriend who has a persistent cold.”

“Okay,” Nico nods even though most of what Will said justflew over his head. Still, he got the gist of it, which is: it was okay if he was gross and that Will did not find him gross and even if he did, he still loves him- or something along those lines- ugh, who cares, he just wants to sleep.

“Can we go lie down now?”

Will raises an eyebrow, “We?”

Nico scowls, “If I have to summon an army of undead just to get you to cuddle me until I’m better, then I will.”

Will laughs again, “Nico: King of Aggressive Cuddling.” Heshakes his head fondly, “Okay, okay, leave it all to me.” He lifts the slender teen and carries him back to the Hades cabin, which he’d instructed his siblings to air out and clean while they had been in the steam room. He rests his forehead against Nico’s warm one and whispers, “You can rest now, Nico, I’ll look after you.”

Nico knows a good suggestion when he hears one. So he leans against Will (just for now, while he was sick, Will knew more about taking care of sick people than him anyway) and he sighs in contentment, drifting off.

He’ll let Will take care of him.

Just this once.

FIN

Author’s notes: Can also be found in ao3

Someone send me a word so I can make a drabble about it

#fanfic #answers #answers to asks #anonymous #steamy #sick nico di angelo #will solace #nico di angelo #solangelo #pjo #hoo #solangelo one word drabble

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hurt-care · 5 years

Text

HP Universe Drabble Challenge Pt. 2

5 more drabbles for the sickfic/snzfic drabble challenge! The first 5 can be found here: http://hurt-care.tumblr.com/post/181569578979/hp-universe-drabble-challenge

6. Light (Harry Potter) 7. Hands (Remus Lupin) 8. Fever (Remus Lupin) 9. Finally Alone (Severus Snape) 10. Worried (Sirius Black)

6. Light

Ginny opened the bedroom curtains with a flick of her wand and crossed the room to her still-sleeping husband.

“Harry,” she said, tugging at the quilt that lay over him. “It's nearly noon, love.”

Harry stirred and opened his eyes for a moment, blinking in the bright sunlight. He groaned and rolled over, burying his face in his pillow.

“Shut the light, please,” he moaned.

“It's nearly noon,” Ginny repeated. “Get up or we won't get to all our errands this afternoon.

“Please, Gin, the light,” he said from behind his pillow shield. “My head feels like it might split.”

Worried, Ginny flicked her wand and charmed the drapes closed again. She sat down on the bed and reached out to smooth back Harry's mess of dark hair.

“A headache or what?” she asked softly, moving her hand down to the nape of his neck and tucking her palm across it. “You're a bit warm, love.”

“Dunno,” Harry said, rolling over to face her, In the darkened room, he looked up at her through circled eyes. “A cold, I think. I'm all clogged up and my head is pounding and I'm just tired.”

“Go back to sleep and I'll go down to the apothecary and get you some potions,” Ginny said soothingly. “I'm sorry I woke you up.”

7. Hands

“Remus, love?” Tonks said tentatively. The man in the bed opposite her stirred and blinked his eyes open. “How are you feeling?”

“Ehh...alright,” he murmured sleepily. “Still really stuffed up.”

He'd been fighting a head cold since before his transformation and now the day after, no potion seemed to be making a difference. He'd finally managed to get some much-needed sleep but the snoring and sinus pain kept waking him.

“Let me try something,” Tonks offered. She sat up and reached her hands over to her husband's face, placing her two thumbs on either side of his nose and gently pressing them down, running them across the ridge of his sinuses. She trailed the thumbs back again, stroking with an even pressure.

Remus grimaced under her touch.

“Too hard?” she asked.

“No, it feels good.”

She pressed her index fingers into the top corners of his eyebrow ridge and he sighed quietly as the pressure in his head shifted. She eased her hands upwards and pushed back his fringe, gently running her fingers through his hair as he drifted back to sleep.

8. Fever

The month passed in a blur of mixed emotions. Sirius was innocent and free! The joy of the news had been overwhelming for Remus, who had assumed for over a decade that Sirius was lost to him. But Remus had been forced to leave Hogwarts and the security of a safe transformation with Wolfsbane, not to mention a warm and cozy place to live plus a salary more generous than any other he'd ever received.

It was the impending transformation without Wolfsbane that weighed most heavily on Remus' mind. After eight moons spent curled up in his professors' quarters, returning to the dreaded basement of his dilapidated cottage in Yorkshire seemed unbearable. But he had no other choice.

He went down into the damp basement before moonrise and prepared for the usual worst. The next morning, he woke to a cacophony of pain and the dull ache of fever. It would be at least an hour before he'd be able to get to his feet. He lay, face pressed to the ground, floating between delirium and lucidity.

Beside him, he heard a sound. Slowly, with great effort, he turned his head over to look towards the stairs that led up to his cottage. A large black dog sat staring at him. It wagged its tail and whined softly.

“You can't be here,” Remus rasped to the dog. “They're going to be watching me. They want to find you so badly.”

His vision swam and he closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the fever addling his thoughts and sending chills down his limbs. With a deep, steadying breath, he looked again, but the dog had vanished.

He felt his heart sink for a moment. Sirius was far, far away now if he knew what was good for him. He was going somewhere tropical, Harry had told him before he'd left Hogwarts. There was no reason for him to be in Yorkshire. It was the fever playing tricks. He needed to get to bed and rest...

Gathering his strength, he sat up. After about twenty minutes of slow effort, he made it up to the small bedroom and under the quilts, breathing heavily from the exertion. Everything felt too hot and his skin prickled with fever and the aftermath of the transformation. Letting himself sink into his pillow, he closed his eyes and let himself surrender to an exhausted sleep.

9. Finally Alone

Snape shut the dungeon door as the last of his sixth year students filed out of the Potions classroom. He'd taught three sessions of classes today and that was about three times as many as he'd felt like doing since last night. A brutal cold had settled into his head and chest overnight and while he'd staved off the majority of symptoms with doses of potions, he was eager to be back in his own chambers, alone.

Pushing open the secret passage behind his office bookshelf, he passed down a small hallway to his sitting room and bedroom. His sitting room was a crowded space full of bookshelves and parchment and spare cauldrons, and one he rarely used for anything beyond grading papers after dinner. Today, it was the sparse bedroom he was aching to return to. The four-poster bed was freshly made by the House Elves, who had apparently noticed the handkerchief he'd left by his pillow; a clean stack of several now sat on his nightstand.

Sitting down on the bed, he kicked off his shoes and allowed himself to slump back against the stack of pillows, closing his eyes. The change in orientation shifted the congestion in his head, sending a drip down his throat and triggering a volley of coughs. He rolled over, coughing into the pillow. When it ceased, he caught his breath and pinched at the bridge of his prominent nose, pressing at his aching sinuses.

Erhh-GHSCHHHT!

Head lolling forward, he sneezed against the mattress and groaned. Thank god class was done and he could deal with this all in peace.

10. Worried

“I don't mean to fuss,” Remus said. “It's just that....like, when was the last time you were sick?”

Sirius lay in the oversized bed at Grimmauld Place, looking up at his friend with a fever-addled, listless expression.

“Did you get sick in Az...I mean, did you get sick there?”

“Not really,” Sirius croaked. “I felt sick a lot but I don't remember this.”

His limbs were quaking with chills and his voice was hoarse and thick with congestion.

“I don't think your immune system was quite up to fifteen people in the house,” Remus remarked. “This is the flu, for sure.”

Hurhh-TSGHHHHHT!

Sirius sneezed openly, misting the air with a bit of spray. He sniffled thickly and rolled over, pulling the quilts up.

“Speaking of being around others,” Remus continued. “Covering your nose is considered polite, if I may remind you.”

Sirius moaned from his blanket fort.

“I know it feels wretched. I've had it twice,” Remus said sympathetically. “How's your fever?”

He reached down and tucked a hand under the blanket to touch Sirius' brow.

“You're burning up, Pads,” he said, worriedly. “I'll send an owl to bring some potions that'll help.”

“Don't go,” Sirius rasped. “My brain is all woozy. I...Moony, I think I'm hearing things.”

“Shhh,” Remus soothed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “That's the fever. Try to sleep and I'll try to get something to help you feel better.”

There was movement under the blanket and where Sirius had been, a large black dog was now curled up, breathing noisily.

“There,” Remus said, patting the dog's head. “That'll help quiet your brain. Now sleep and I'll wake you when the potions get here.”

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cartoonfangirl1218 · 4 years

Text

Winner’s Curse Ch. 13

Super excited for this one. Lots of references to characters from the Aladdin series. Enjoy.

Jay glanced around at the muddy, deserted streets and was amazed by how quickly he was able to shift back to alert Isle mode. The mode that was prepared for a surprise attack at any moment whether from Uma’s pirate crew or some person angry that he stole their goods once again.

It was like a tourney reflex that he honed in from months of practice only it was deeper than that. It was instinctive.

He would always be from the Isle. That would never change.

And when he had been feeling it more and more during this week with the Auradonians.

Before this whole “Save Auradon (for the third time) from the Isle,” Aziz and Jordan tolerated him. Aziz was kinda moody around him even though he swore he had no problem that their dads had been enemies, but sometimes when they’d hang out with the rest of the team, Aziz would pull him away and show him around Little Agraban.

Jordan usually acted less than pleased to be his presence and always sniped about his sticky fingers even though he stole her lamp just one time. How was he supposed to know that it was her lamp. He didn't even know genies could have kids. And okay, maybe he was a bit curious to see if it would work. But that incident sealed her view of him, he was a deceitful no good thief.

Now they acted like he was only Jafar Jr. in their eyes. It made him miss Evie, Carlos and Mal. They would have his back if they were here.

Even the Vks.. oh Allah when did he start calling them “Vks?” He always used to think of himself as just from the Isle.

Even the Isle kids they had teamed up with disliked him.

He had never liked Harry or Uma and their crew, and their hostilities only grew when he stood by Mal and their friends.

He didn’t need to hear Uma’s side of the whatever sob story grudge she had against Mal, he was sticking by his dragon girl. No matter what. She had his back and he had hers.

Uma was just a power-grabber, always trying to edge on Mal’s rightful territory. Hopefully Jordan was seeing that now for herself. People always ignored him when it came to strategizing and plans but he knew a thing or two about people.

Who to manipulate, who to avoid, who to charm, who to steal from. And any plan with Uma was bound to fail. She’d always try to take power for herself. As for Lala...He had met her a few times before when their parents hooked up. He asked her if she was worried their future half sibling would become her mom’s favorite and she shrugged, saying that she doubted it. La treated her children as more of a mini hunting squad; food providers now she no longer had leopard men.

Jay understood all too well. Jafar wanted him to earn his food by stealing whatever trinket he could for the shop. Or even stealing food itself. But no matter how much he stole or what he stole, it was never the “big score” that would make his father proud of him. Or care about him.

But Lala didn’t want to bond on that commonality. She always seemed to look down on him for stealing his dinner from others rather than hunting food down with his bare hands.

And okay, maybe he stole several of her weapons too.

So? He didn’t know what Queen La preached but he had been following his dad’s mantra that “There was no team in “I.”

That it was best to only serve himself and make sure everyone loses but the more time he spent in Auradon, he realized something. That even though he believed his own boasts as the most selfish, bad guy on the Isle, he never had been.

His friendship with the others had excluded him from the title from the start.

And now he wished he had his friends by his side. He missed having the security of backup and people who understood what it was like on the Isle.

He looked at his two partners from his peripheral eyesight. Jordan had healed Aziz’s back but she was still checking him and Aziz was swatting her hands away, bickering in Arabic.

Jay clenched his fist to ignore the rise of frustration that welled up in his chest. They knew Arabic, they knew things like mathmatics and science and history and so many other things that some of the Aks looked down on him for when he asked his “stupid” questions in class.

All he had were his father’s stories.

There were so many differences between them because of fate. Their parents, where they were born. It was all so unfair.

He knew Jordan and Aziz’s intentions were probably good, having the villains take over Auradon would be no treat, especially since some were pretty pissed that his friends hadn’t gotten them off during Ben’s Coronation as they had said they would.

But Aziz and Jordan didn’t truly understand. Once this was over, they would go back to their plush lives as if nothing had happened.

Which he had been doing as well up till now.

Another thing he couldn’t help notice beside reverting to his Isle mode were the kids. He hadn’t noticed them before. But even though he didn’t usually listen to Evie’s Isle proposals, some of her speeches slipped into his head.

He looked at the few children he had seen that were brave enough to roam the streets despite the Coven’s strict law. Many of them were about searching through trash cans for food. Looking for one unspoiled apples among the leftovers or daring each other to eat the most rotten.

He remembered he used to do that with Gaston’s son, bragging that he could eat anything no matter how foul tasting or disgusting it was. It had given him food poisoning more than once, but he had been proud of himself for not complaining about it like a man.

Lady Tremine’s 3 year old grandson would be able to boast the same, Jay thought as he saw the bob-ponytailed boy run away with a bundle of molded bananas.

It wasn’t just the food that was the problem. The dirt and the hygine was seriously lacking. Something he hadn’t realized until he got to Auradon and Couch Jenkins required the team to take showers after practice. He had just stood in amazement as he looked at all the dirt swirl down and eventually clogged the drain.

When he got sick on the Isle, he had learned not to complain. Many parents didn’t tolerate whining about a “little sniffle” even if that sniffle turned out to be a raging fever. Every year there was always some bunch of kids that ended up being buried on the shores of the Isle.

He could sort of understand why Uma and Evie were so determined to get kids off it. While he had been fine living here, proud of himself for surviving so long, Auradon really was a better place to live and these kids deserved to get that chance.

But Jordan and Aziz had been so concerned about infiltraiting the Coven, they had been neglecting Evie’s list and he doubted that they would give it priority so it was left to him to find them. He doubted the others would mind, he had a feeling that Jordan would be oh too happy to be rid of his presence for a couple of hours.

He knew Diego De’Vil was on the list but he lived on the other side of the Isle where the more livable houses were instead of the shacks that lined the alleyways and docks. As for the others he would have to check the list again.

But Jordan took the list….

Oh this was going to be too easy.

Jay fell at their feet bracing himself for impact as they fell over him like dominos and ecieving a nasty kick to his ribs in the meanwhile. Hands scrambling, he felt around Jordan’s skirt for any pockets but couldn’t find any.

Did Jordan give the list to Aziz? Jay couldn’t remember but it would be just-

“Hands off the ass!” “Sorry, sorry, I tripped. Dude, get-aack- get your foot off my neck.” Jay mumbled when his face was suddenly pressed against the dirt.

“My foot is nowhere near your neck.”

“Well someone’s is!”

With some shoves, and dirt swirling from the wind picking up, they managed to get themselves all upright again.

Jay rubbed his head, surprised by how woozy he felt from the “accidental trip.” He must be getting rusty.

“We’re not getting anywhere like this.” Aziz snorted derisively, “We should probably split up. We’re too intimidating all together.” “You intimidating? Ha!” Jordan barked.

“Well it’s not like you’ve been having good ideas lately.” Aziz retorted.

“He’s right.” Jay cut in before another “boiling” incident could happen, “We usually stick to gangs on the Isle for safety. People will approch us if we’re alone. Or targte us so you better hold your weapons close.” Jay gripped his scimitir for emphesis.

“Got it. You go that way, I’ll go this way.” Jordan pointed to the point where they had come and motioned for Aziz to keep moving forward. She didn’t give Jay any directions. Figured. So Jay decided to go to the alleyways.

He closed his eyes as he did so, secretly congratulating himself every time he brushed past a wall or a person without hitting it. He knew this place with his eyes closed.

“Jayal, my son.” A voice slithered from behind him and Jay nearly tripped forward for real.

“Jay. You’ve gotten soft in Auradon haven’t you.” The voice mocked, his shadow looming over Jay’s on the ground.

“Hello, Dad” Jay turned to his back and looked up.

His dad looked nothing like he remembered. Gone was the beer belly, and tattered pajamas. He was no longer stooped with age and ill health. He looked like the picture of his glory days.

Jay never saw how his father could be seen as sinister. Patheticness and desperation reeked his appearance on the Isle but now he could.

Skinny as a cobra, the thin mustache and curled lips gloated as Jay looked up to his father. The turban’s glowing ruby kept blinding him as the lamp lights hit it and the pointed shoulders of his outer robe reminded Jay of all his dad’s threat of stabbing Aladdin and the rest of the royal family to death once he was back on the throne.

In hand, Jafar held his staff, now shimmering with magic that had been untapped until now.

“Get up you miserable whelp.” Jafar hit his legs with the staff, urging Jay to get up quickly. “Miserable whelp?” His dad never called him that. But then again from the slghtly blissful crazed look in his eye, he bet his dad was already drunk on power.

“Well, Jay, come to take me to Auradon a year too late?” Jafar sarcastically asked, catching Jay’s chin with his staff and drawing to him.

Jay felt himself at a loss of what to say and fear started to trail down his spine. “Well Jay?”

Jay knew what he would have done if any of his friends were to face their parents. He would stand between them and protect them from Maleficent’s scorn and Queen Grimhilde’s criticsm and Cruella’s abuse.

He’d bring those villains down with his fists, killer tourney moves, and whatever weapon he had in hand. Improvising weapons had been one of his more unusual yet necessary skills while growing up. Besides those three adults made him furious. Why did they think their abuse would make their kids better? They were just bitter about how their lives turned out, they used their kids as punching bags. Or a tool that if one achieved victory, they achieved victory without doing the work.

He had seen too many times Mal having near panic attacks about not living up to her mom’s perfect ideals, Evie’s meltdowns over a stray pimple and Carlos’ withdrawn demenour after a brutal evening alone with his mom.

Back then, he had seen what theit parents did to them, and Jay had done nothing.

He had told himself it wasn’t his fault. They hadn’t asked him too, they never went into detail about what happened behind the closed doors of their home. They were Vks, they were expected to suck up and deal with the tough love.

But he regretted it now. He had seen their pain and he hadn’t even asked them how it felt. It was too mushy, too personal but he still should have done something.

Damnit he had gotten bloody noses taking on Uma’s crew for messing with his friends in their somewhat superficial feud brought on by a child’s prank. But when it came to the real abuse. He did nothing. Yet they still thought of him as their “big brother.” Some big brother he was. He didn’t deserve that affection. He didn’t earn it after doing nothing. Just like Jafar said. Why would anyone care for you if you were a miserable parasite. That’s why he had to do his share and get goods for the store. Then he deserved some food.

However the whole situation was different when it came to facing his own father and how he treated him. He didn’t feel anger towards him like Mal sometimes did at night. He didn’t feel complete terror as Carlos always feared his mother.

He had never thought of seeing his father again and had no idea what he’d do.

Jafar wasn’t the worst parent on the Isle he thought. He never hit him outright except for one time when he had gotten really furious at Jay for bringing nothing home and threw random objects. Some accidentally hitting him on the head.

He didn’t criticize his looks like Evie’s mom or expected him to be the baddest villain on the Isle like Maleficent.

Jafar didn’t expect much of him except to bring the money.

Jafar didn’t care if he got beaten on his runs from other gangs. He wouldn’t have noticed until the end of the day when Jay didn’t come with the money. He would look past Jay’s scars and bruises and Jay would sometimes wonder if the blood he felt trickling down his nose was even visible for how little Jafar cared.

Though the one confirmation Jay had that Jafar did see Jafar see his scars was during the the few arguments where Jay rebelled against his dad. Jay would threaten to walk out and hoard his ill-gotten gains for himself if he didn’t get his fair share, Jafar would point out the bruises Jay had gotten from a fight before and remind him that he wouldn’t survive long fighting everyone on the streets. He should be thankful to his dad. Jafar him a home when he could have stayed at the brothel with his mom to die. He helped create him. He owed him his life.

Jay would concede that his dad was right and lay down under the tvs and try to ignore Jafar’s continued ranting. On that topic of Jay owing him his life, he should be bringing in more money. He knew Jay could get the big score so why was he always failing?

Yet despite how little Jafar cared for him. Demeaned him that he wouldn’t survive on his own. Gave him enough scraps of encouragement that he could steal bigger and better things that Jay would stick around.

Jay still cared about his dad. Because as much as he hated to admit it, he did. He owed him his life, and he had hated to see his father walk around his junk shop in pajamas and rant about his glory days to Iago. He had thought that if he could just get that big score that maybe he could fix his father’s tattered life. He could be proud again and proud of Jay. Praise him for bringing his power back into his life instead of being a burdensome child and then…

Well that was where the fantasy ended. He didn’t know what would happen after the big score because he could never imagine it being possible. He could see himself swimming in piles of gold but he always knew it was a fantasy in his head. Not a future.

And since he’d been in Auradon, he had tried his best to ignore the nagging feeling that this was his chance to make his father proud, that he could finally be the “Crown prince of Agrabah he should be.” Jafar didn’t deserve Jay’s effort to earn his respect. Jay didn’t “owe” him his life.

He realized, even if he gave Jafar the seat of Agrabah, all the gold would never be enough. Jafar would still send him to fetch more. For him to steal something he could really be proud of. That Jay had to continue being useful in other ways, keep up his skills, get more and more gold. He’d never earn his father’s approval. All those years he spent trying..... That’s what angered him the most. He, the famed silver tongue prince of thieves of the Isle, fell for his father’s lie that there was a chance he could win his approval and maybe even love. And he had wasted 16 years of his life for him.

Jafar dropped Jay’s chin and threw his head back with a cackle, dirt swirled around him, transforming his skinny figure into a slender, black furred cat-man in Egyptian-styled robes.

Jay covered his eyes from the flying dirt and scowled, “You!”

He lunged to grab him by the throat but all he gripped was vanishing smoke.

“Over here, Jay.” The voice purred

Jay turned and punched at thin air.

“Whoops, wrong one. That one was an-”

“Illusion.” The two said together.

Jay looked up to follow the sound of the voice and felt the ground give way beneath him like quicksand.

Jay’s eyes searched frantically for a branch, something to hold onto but then took a deep breath and exhaled. He wasn’t really drowning. There was no quicksand on the Isle streets. It was just another illusion.

He opened his eyes to confirm his belief that he was safe and saw the Isle streets had completely disappeared. He was facing a dark iron laden wall dripping with moisture and cells lining the wall to his left.

“Huh where am?” Jay looked around wildly and found himself tied to a chair, Aziz and Jordan tied to his back as well.

“Hmm he didn’t panic about the quicksand. It’s always so disappointing when they don’t scream.” The teenage cat mock-whimpered to the female twin that appeared beside him.

“I know. But we still have time. All the time in the world. I can’t wait till Staqauit gets his hands on them.” The girl smiled, her fangs gleaming against the darkness of the room and the blackness of her fur.

“Illusion, Chimera.” Jay growled, fighting against the iron shackles that bound him.

“Oh don’t act so surprised that we’d mess with you. You should have seen yourself when you saw your father hehe! You were like a statue. All frozen and mute!” Illusion swiped his beanie to condescendingly ruffle his hair and then pulled the communications earpiece Carlos had gifted him from his ear and crushed it between her claws.

Though they didn’t physically look the part, these two were one of the most dangerous creatures on the Isle. Near gods. They were the children of Evil Incarnate.

They escaped entrapment by virtue of the fact that no one dared to enter their mother’s cosmic void, Morbia. But they did visit from time to time. They enjoyed all of the Isle’s backstabbing, thieving, immorality, and of course, evilness.

“Yeah we kinda figured the connection. Cat people with the powers of socercery and illusions. Of course you’re Mirage’s children. But seriously, Illusion? Chimera? Oh please tell me you have a third sibling named Hallucination. It’ll really tie up the theme naming.” Aziz mocked.

“Continue your brave little prince act…. I dare you.” Illusion walked over to Aziz’s side, disappearing from Jay’s view but he coud hear Aziz grunt and the familar sound of claws against skin and Jordan tense up beside him.

“Though we’ll admit, we didn’t do this just for the sake of evil.” Chimera buffed her nails on Jay’s shoulder as she settled on Jordan’s lap, “We wanted to create a little family reunion. Jay with his dad.”

“The prince with his uncles and cousin.” Illusion continued, “And the genie with her new master.”

“Isn’t that such a good deed? Maybe we’ll even be invited to come to Auradon.” Chimera cackled.

Jay tried to work his finger to find some sort of knot or chain to undo but there was no use. With Chimera and Illusin in the room, he doubted he would have a chance when they could literally change the landscape in an instant.

His frustration at their predicament grew alongside the still-mounted anger he had for himself at being duped by Illusion. And the greater anger that he had come face to face with who he had thought was his father and he had done nothing but stare.

He wanted to hit something, make them burn like the anger burned inside him... Wait that was an idea!

Jay nudged Jordan’s shoulder and tried to mouth for her to do the boiling trick she had to Uma as best as he could but Chimera just glared at him and Jay switched to give his best smolder in return.

"Antiqam!!!” Illusion called and the door slammed open to reveal a tall, tan man drapped in flowing blue robes studded with ambers and onyxes and desert diamonds and sporting a five o’clock shadow.

“Hello, cousins, genie.” Antiqam smiled. His face was warm but his silver eyes were cold and focused and that lied the greatest danger.

During the few Aladdin-haters club meetings back in the day, His father had always warned Jay to not go near Mozonroth or his son which honestly, he didn’t need any warning.

Antiqam was a good 8 years older than Jay and had the physique to match. But it wasn’t the muscle that scared Jay, no, wits beat muscle any day, it was just that Antiqam was manipulative as he was strong and had an unpredictable temper.

The dangerous part though wasn’t when Antiqam would snap but how. Antiqam could vanquish you in a swift blast of heat or he could arrange for a slow torture by manipulating you to ruin your own life.

But despite the danger, Jay had to ask, “Cousins?”

Hey, just because his life was in peril, it didn’t mean he had to act like it. That was one of the foremost rules of the Isle and thievery, never let them see you sweat.

“Oh Jay, you don’t know? Besides being cousins to the insufferable soon to be ex- prince over here, you and I are distantly related. I am Antiqam iban Mozonroth iban Cassim and Nasira. Your…” Antiqam prompted.

“Aunt. Aunt Nasira is your grandmother?” Jay stared, suddenly gripped by a headache. He never really knew his aunt’s age or his father’s. It didn’t matter much since villains seemed to pop up from the dead like woodwork or achieved immortality somehow, but this was a new revelation.

“Yes! And Cassim is the princy boy’s grandfather. So you two are my baby cousins. And you are my new genie. Well my father’s. Then mine. We planned it all out. Your father will go to Jafar, and your mother to Nasira. It’s so nice that there’s three of you. Makes splitting things up easier.” Antiqam smirked.

“We live to serve to make things easier for you.” Jordan bitterly smiled.

“Eventually you’ll go to my little brother and his family. My heirs will be inheriting bigger things, more servants since they’ll be the ones ruling the Black Sands and the kingdom of Agrabah.” Antiqam held out his hand and Illusion obediently gave him Jordan's lamp. “So we’re all one big family. I mean once we execute half of it. Starting with the crown heir.” Antiqam slipped out of Jay’s view again to Aziz’s side.

“Yeah, sorry to disappoint you but I’m not the crown heir. I’m the second in line.” Aziz cockily corrected.

“Uhh I think there might be a problem with that if my father rules Agrabah.” Jay couldn’t help but add when Antiqam was about to speechify again, much to Antiqam’s annoyance, “I mean not that any you’ll ever will get to rule Agrabah. We won’t let you get away with this.”

Antiqam leaned down so they could look eye to eye and stared at Jay’s defiant ones, holding his gaze until Jay reluctantly broke his. “Heh, that is up to discussion. We haven’t exactly planned the boundries yet but Jafar and Nasira won’t live forever. And you and Jade can always be deposed of.”

“Or be used as servants.” Jordan piped up earning her a confused look from Imran.

“What? Seriously?” Jay cried. He knew she didn’t like him but really? To immediately backstab him the moment they were in trouble! And Aks said they were bad.

“Jafar came to the Isle as a genie bound to a lamp. You can always use him as your genie if he doesn’t do what you want. So you’ll have that as blackmail.” “And then I won’t have a reason to use you. Is that what youre getting at? Don’t think so.” Antiqam finished and dipped his finger in the dip between her breasts, smirking as she cringed, “Jafar’s lamp is in the hands of his sister and even if I wanted a genie, I would still choose you. I think we both know why.”

“What about Jafar’s crotch? It could be good. We don’t know. We haven’t seen it. Maybe it’s a diamond in the rough, it’ll take you to a whole new world.” Jordan blurted.

Jay felt himself growing queasy and vainly pressed his ears to his shoulders in an effort to will away that sentence and image. Antiqam backed away, his look of disgust giving way to amusedly shaking his head, “You are definitely a genie. Always talking about the most inane subjects.”

“To be fair my mom has speculated on your dad’s crotch so it might be genetic. Mainly about him compensating...” “Jordan!” Aziz shouted.

“I’m nervous.” Jordan cringed, “But you’re right, I should gag myself right now. That-That would probably be a good idea.”

Antiqam laughed outright, “This is too easy. I mean that little side-tangent about crotches was disturbing. But still. My own gorgeous annoying phenomenally cosmic genie! No one will ever be in my way and I can assure you, you will soon see I have nothing to compensate for.”

Whatever Antiqam was about to say next was interrupted by the sound of a door creaking open. They all whipped their heads around to see who had entered and saw Jafar with his sister, Nasira and her daughter, Jade.

Jay looked to the two cat dieties. It would be just like them to create another illusion just to add to the psychological and emotional pain but neither looked devious. They looked anticipatory just like cats eyeing the canary to see who would make the first move. The cat pouncing or the canary flying.

Jay gulped. It must mean this was truly his father, he could tell by the irritated look on his face that Jay had seen most of his life. The same furrowed brown and frown that seemed to pull down the rest of his face. Aunt Nasira stood by him like a second command which was unusual since Aunt Nasira and his dad had a falling out a few years ago but he supposed they reunited once the opportunity came to seize Agrabah. Jade stood behind her mother looking pityingly at him which was.. different. Everything about her looked different actually. Jade wasn’t wearing her scratched and worn leather pants and faded purple crop top but a flowing violet abaya with diamonds, rubies, sapphires and bloodstones adorning the collar like the ones he saw the Sultana and Aziz’s sisters wear on TV. She had completed the look with an opulent jade and gold choker and matching head-chain, looking every bit a princess as those that attended Auradon Prep.

He and Jade has always got along, always teased and got on each other’s nerves. She used to be his partner in pickpocketing before their parent’s fell out though that didn’t stop them from getting similar tattoos on his 13th birthday. His was a cobra striking to the left and hers was a coiled viper looking to the right. Both were on their lower backs so if they stood next to each other, it looked like the snake tattoos were about to fight. The tattoo fit her. She was as fierce and vicious as a viper or more accurately, her mom.

Although they never had a close bond like he did with his friends, he also considered her as someone to count on. Their relationship was different than that with Mal, Evie and Carlos. While their differing personalities contrasted yet melded to somehow work as an awesome team, he and Jade were so similar they were often mistaken for fraternal twins and not just because of their similar looks.

A day didn’t feel quite right if he went without talking with at least one person from his gang but he and Jade could go for months without talking and pick up again like nothing. She was someone to go to hang out and relax. Compare notes on what they imagined Agrabah to be like.

They didn’t have a touchy feely relationship. He couldn’t remember the last time he really touched Jade beyond fighting back to back with her or flicking her on the forehead compared to the numerous hugs Evie pulled him into or Carlos jumping into his arms. Jay knew he would never have to protect her like he did with the others because Jade could handle people herself. She didn’t need him and she’d proudly boast of the fact.

They didn’t get emotional with each other or talk about their feelings, it was only fun and games between them. They didn’t give pitying looks. Jade was too tough for that.

So if she was looking at him that pityingly….

Jay watched warily as Jafar strode towards him, his arm so outstretched it looked like the staff was leading the way. The staff that he had stared at every night before he went to bed, thinking of his dad’s stories of its mind control powers.

Jay vaguly registered his father’s “Jayal, my son.” He thought he heard Illusion cackle saying, “That’s what I said! I got it right.” He might have heard Jade murmur something. And there was some echo about remembering there was no “I” in team. But he didn’t see anything.

All he could see was the staff’s bright ruby eyes. Those tantalizing glowing eyes that must have been in the Cave of Wonders for it gleamed and shined like the thousands and millions of jewels and treasures and gold that was said to be there. It was so tempting, so mesmerizing.

He couldn’t look away.

#jay #jafar #nasira #jade #jordan #aziz #winner’s curse #illusion #chimera #antiqam #my fanfic #my fanfiction #my ocs #ocs #disney descendants #chapter thirteen

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