Triosk's Drabble Thread (75/101) - loads of fandoms, most recently Giri/Haji

[Triosk1]

So, I've never written drabbles before, but I was really intrigued by Salamander's thread, and decided to give Dove and Natto's challenge a go myself. No idea how far I'll get, but I'm willing to give it a go.

Loads of fandoms! Currently Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Sherlock, Harry Potter, Silk, West Wing, the Avengers, Pride & Prejudice, Bridget Jones's Diary, Star Trek, Formula 1, The Expanse, Endeavour, Good Omens, The Marvelous Mrs Maisel, Sense8....so many things! Even some originals and short stories written in consecutive ones. Prepare for spoilers and random pairings.

So here is the list of prompts, and then I'll post what I've got so far.

1 – Kink 2 - Science Fiction 3 – Frightened 4 – Fake 5 – Pencil 6 – Squint 7 – Misplaced 8 – Joy 9 – Touched 10 – Cough 11 – Hot/Cold 12 – Sin 13 – Care 14 – Frail 15 – The End 16 – Three 17 – Never 18 – Midnight 19 – Promise 20 – Fight 21 – Pollen 22 – Embarrassment 23 – Alcohol 24 – Mask 25 – Mistake 26 – Suspicion 27 – Disagreement 28 – Assignment 29 – Purple 30 – June 31 – Calculating 32 – Fall 33 – Cry 34 – Relief 35 – Breath 36 – Miserable 37 – Chocolate 38 – Violent 39 – Muffle 40 – Swift 41 – Run 42 – Poison 43 – Contagion 44 – Tissue 45 – Sore 46 – Enraptured 47 – Wary 48 – Pathetic 49 – Sweat 50 – Gentle 51 – Milk 52 – Ravenous 53 – Blanket 54 – Needles 55 – Sports 55a – Ruin 56 – Lovely 57 – Hospital 58 – Annoying 59 – Mother 60 – Bike 61 – Idiot 62 – Puppy 63 – Control 64 – Unfair 65 – Similarities 66 – Raincoat 67 – Worship 68 – Attitude 69 – Fuck 70 – Confession 71 – Floor 72 – Remedy 73 – Don’t 74 – Ego 75 – Heartless 76 – Lullaby 77 – Secret 78 – Shut Up 79 – Music 80 – Grudge 81 – Solitude 82 – Magic 83 – Dirty 84 – City 85 – Teacher 86 – Sky 87 – Hypocrite 88 – Tattoo 89 – Money 90 – Childhood 91 – Goodbye 92 – Victory 93 – Weather 94 – Photo 95 – Rage 96 – Internet 97 – Fashion 98 – Favor 99 – Lazy 100 – Airplane

#12 Sin

Fandom/Original: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (around series 2)

Characters: Drusilla, Spike

Pairings: Drusilla/Spike

Fetish: Spike (male), induced

Word Count: 165

Drusilla knelt on Spike’s chest, the delicate veins of her neck clearly visible in her alabaster white neck. She was breathing heavily, but the air in the room didn’t stir; it was a vampire thing. Spike watched her lick her lips in anticipation. She held between her fingers a white feather, twitching it back and forth between their faces.

“You’ve been a bad boy, haven’t you love?” She whispered, as she lowered the feather. Spike nodded. He would do anything to please his darling, even if it meant a little unpleasantness. And he didn’t really mind.

“A very bad boy. You’ve been awfully...sinful.” She rolled the words around in her mouth, savouring them. The feather was at his nostrils now, tickling away, the urge to give in almost irresistible, but he knew she preferred it when he tried to hold them back.

“You deserve to be...punished.”

“Esc’hoo! Hah...Usch’HOO!” As he sneezed, Drusilla leant close against him, her mouth against his ear as she giggled.

“Naughty.”

#30 June

[Redacted]

#73 Don’t

Fandom/Original: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (series 1, before Angel went evil)

Characters: Angel, Buffy

Pairings: Angel/Buffy

Fetish: Angel (male), cold

Word Count: 250

Angel shivered, and pulled his jacket around tighter around his ancient body, but the cold he felt went right to his bones. Since he had been cursed, he seemed to be just human enough to feel the cold. And to contract the odd virus now and again.

“Hah!...HRRSHOO!” He sneezed into cupped hands, feeling it burn his already painful throat. Just for a moment, he imagined Buffy’s arms around him, her cool hands soothing his headache, her soft lips on his. Then he put the thought aside: whoever heard of a vampire with a head-cold? What would she think of him?

Speaking of vampires, he heard a disturbance from behind a tree in the graveyard. Quickly closing the gap, he saw Buffy in the flesh, fighting what looked to be a new convert. Fighting hard. Letting his rage consume him, he allowed his body to change and the demon to take control as he pulled the creature away from her, wrenching it to the ground and staking it through the heart, but not before it got a blow in to the solar plexus. Coughing and gasping, Angel stayed on all fours over the space where the vampire had been. He felt Buffy’s hands on his shoulders, his back, and cringed away from her; unable to regain control enough to disguise his face.

“Shhh...” she whispered, turning his chin to face her as he stopped coughing. He tried to turn away again, but she held on. “Don’t,” she whispered, kissing him.

Edited February 26, 2023 by Triosk1
Adding new drabble

[Triosk1]

And another one for good measure. Bedtime now, though!

#35 Breath

Fandom/Original: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (series 1)

Characters: Angel, Buffy

Pairings: Angel/Buffy

Fetish: Angel (male), accidental

Word Count: 248

“That is seriously wiggy. Do it again,” Buffy coaxed him. She and Angel lay on his bed, fully clothed, relaxing after an evening’s joint patrol. Or extended make-out session, depending on how you looked at it. Angel smiled indulgently, took a deep breath and blew. Not a single hair stirred around Buffy’s face.

“But why don’t you breathe? You look like you breathe.” Angel shrugged.

“Why don’t I age? Why don’t I show up in mirrors or photos? Vampires don’t breathe.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense! You wouldn’t be able to talk, your lungs couldn’t expand if air didn’t go in-“ Buffy stopped as Angel put a finger to her lips, laughing silently.

“I know. But I’m a vampire, Buffy. Normal rules definitely do not apply.”

“But what would happen if you did breathe?”

“What?”

“Well...what would your body do then?” Buffy was crouching over him now, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Angel had no idea where this was going, but he knew he didn’t like it.

“Buffy...” But he didn’t have time to respond before Buffy leaned down and blew directly at his nose. The sudden influx of warm air made him wrinkle it involuntarily, his eyebrows drawing together into a tortured expression. Turning away from her he took a shuddering breath, before releasing a wrenching:

“HiyyyISHOO!” Blinking and slightly dazed, he turned back to find Buffy looking sheepish.

“Oops,” she said, kissing his still tingling nose. “But, at least now we know, you know?”

Edited January 5, 2012 by Katrelle

[Triosk1]

Two more! Just plain torturing of characters, I'm afraid. No plot, obvs.

#62 Puppy

Fandom/Original: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (series 2)

Characters: Drusilla, Spike

Pairings: Drusilla/Spike

Fetish: Spike (male), allergies

Word Count: 171

“Look what I found, love,” Drusilla’s voice echoed as she returned from the night’s hunt, ethereal and floating. Spike rolled his eyes, and wheeled himself towards the door, wondering with foreboding what exactly she had ‘found’. A whimpering noise confirmed the worst.

“Its mummy died...and she wasn’t even tasty...” Dru whined, shaking the rain from her skirt and depositing in his lap a shivering, golden Labrador puppy. It looked up at Spike, whined, and shook itself. He could already feel his nasal passages starting to itch and tickle.

“Dru,” he began, but it was no good. Pressing the back of his hand to his unruly nose, he let out a barrage of itchy, allergic sneezes.

“H’tch! Tchu! Heh’ITchu-Ih’Tchu-TCHOO! Huh...ASHOOO!” At the final, resounding sneeze, the puppy flicked an ear, but, deciding that Spike’s lap was much warmer and more comfortable than the floor, curled up and went to sleep.

“Don’t you like it, darling? I found it for you.”

“I...Hu’ISHOO! *snf!* I love it, sweetheart,” said Spike, sniffling resignedly. “Thank you.”

#65 Similarities

Fandom/Original: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (series 3)

Characters: Buffy , Giles, Willow, Xander

Fetish: Giles (male), Willow (female), allergies

Word Count: 202

The Sunnydale High library was quiet, except for the peaceful sounds of pages turning and pens scratching. Unusual, considering it so often rang with the grunts of exertion during Slayer training, the screams and yells of fights with vampires, and the heated discussion of the next eldritch horror to be faced by the Scooby Gang. But today, the gang worked in silence in the stuffy heated environment, trying to work out the possible cause of a couple of strange disappearances in the last two days.

“Heh’tch!” Willow stifled a sneeze against her knuckles. Then another. And another. “Tchu! H’tch!” Her nose was approximately the pinkish shade of a pomegranate, and she continued to look on the very verge of sneezing.

“Bless you, Wills,” said Buffy, watching her friend struggle to hold back yet more sneezes. “Giles, it’s so hot in here, do you think we could maybe open a-“ She broke off, because Giles chose this particular moment to raise his handkerchief and sneeze forcefully into it.

“H’RRRSHOO! Heh! H’RRRISHOO!” He rubbed distractedly beneath his glasses at his sore and itching eyes.

“Y’know, Buff, I don’t think opening a window would be such a great idea,” chipped in Xander.

“Hih’tchu!” agreed Willow.

Edited January 5, 2012 by Katrelle

[silentdreamer789]

Wow, these are great!

[Triosk1]

@silentdreamer - thanks so much! I'm glad you liked enough to read them, I know drabbles can be just ignored in the Stories thread.

It's the hurt/comfort brigade! Is it awful that I love writing this stuff?

#53 Blanket

Fandom/Original: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (series 3, around Beauty and the Beasts/Homecoming)

Characters: Angel, Buffy

Pairings: Angel/Buffy kinda

Fetish: Angel (male), flu (no sneezing, massive hurt/comfort, coughing)

Word Count: 330

[bit of recap of plot. Angel was a vampire + soul due to gypsy curse, then he sleeps with Buffy, experiences a moment of true happiness, his soul is lost again and he goes back to being Angelus, absolute cold-blooded (literally) vampire killer with a major sadistic streak. Willow discovers the way to redo the curse, and performs it at just the time when the only way to stop the universe being sucked into the demon dimension (Hell, sorta), is for Buffy to stab Angel with a big old ceremonial sword. So he turns back into Angel, she realises, they kiss and angst a bit, and then she stabs him. He falls backwards into Hell. Later, to say goodbye to his memory, Buffy put the claddagh ring that Angel gave her on the floor in the place where she stabbed him. Somehow it summons him back from Hell, where he’s been (we presume) tortured for hundreds of years, because time is much slower (or should that be faster, I never know) there. First of all he clearly has no idea who he is or was, and is just an animal. But then he saves Buffy’s life at the end of Beauty and the Beast, and collapses sobbing in front of her. Before that she’d had him in chains because he was dangerous and seemed hopelessly broken, but now he seems to be getting better. I have only so far gotten up to Homecoming, so please, please don’t spoil. So their relationship is very muddy at the moment to me.]

“Angel?” Buffy whispered as she entered the ex-church. It was late, and she didn’t want to wake him if he were asleep. Which he seemed to be, curled up on the cold stone floor, his body twitching as he fought off the torturers that plagued his nightmares. She stood, uncertain, watching him for a while. She had no idea where they stood right now; whether he would ever fully recover what was left of his sanity. Whether he would forgive her for sending him to Hell, even though she had had no choice.

Then she realised that Angel was shivering; his whole body shuddering against the stone, his bare arms clutched around his chest, sweat standing out on his forehead. Cautiously, because she couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t try to hurt her if she woke him from such a violent dream unexpectedly, Buffy reached out to put a hand to his face. He was burning hot, the tremors tangible to her fingers.

Worried, Buffy dug through what was left of Spike and Drusilla’s things. At the bottom of the wooden chest she found what she was looking for: a blanket. Shaking off the dust and spiders, she put it over him, pulling it tightly over his tensed, trembling body. She found a handkerchief in the trunk, too, and wet it from the pools of icy rainwater around the church, putting it on Angel’s forehead. He moaned and pulled away, but she held him still.

“Shhh, it’s ok. Everything’s gonna be ok.” Angel opened his eyes at her voice, but they were shiny with fever and unseeing, not recognising what was going on. He turned his face to the floor and coughed: a black, rattling cough from deep in his chest, so that Buffy winced and rubbed his back tenderly. When it finally stopped, he lay still, panting, watching her properly now.

“Buffy,” he whispered hoarsely, as another shudder ran through his body. “You’re here.” Then his eyes closed once more.

Edited January 5, 2012 by Katrelle

[obsessed]

I'm not too familiar with Buffy, but this was brilliantly written:)

[Salamander]

Mm, these are so very lovely. I enjoyed every one of them and I'm not even a buffy fan

[Triosk1]

@Sal, @Obsessed - yay, glad you like! Also glad you can enjoy without being a Buffy fan. I love Buffy, but it's always to know that fanfic can reach outside the fandom. I like your Merry Gentry stuff despite not having read any of the real stuff. It'll be a bit surreal if I ever get round to it!

Anyway, change of fandom. This is Sherlock! Because the new episode is gorgeous and I adore them. But no spoilers for it. I will do another one with sick!Holmes, but this is sick!Watson. It's also pushing drabble length. Dialogue is costly on the word count.

#9 Touched

Fandom/Original: Sherlock (BBC TV 2010-2012, series 1-2)

Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson

Fetish: Watson (male), cold, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 450

John thumped back into the flat at lunchtime, having made the executive decision that, given the way he was feeling, he was more at risk of infecting people than curing them today. He collapsed into 221B’s sofa, directing a tired sneeze at the elbow of his jacket.

“Heh’HrrIshoo!”

“John,” Sherlock emerged from his bedroom, sleeves rolled up, clearly meaning business. “How’s that database of missing dogs coming?”

John paused in the midst of what he was doing, which was blowing his nose into a crumpled tissue. He finished, before asking thickly:

“Whadt? What database?”

“The one I told you to start this morning.”

“I went out this morning. I went to work. You didn’t notice?”

“It’s not my fault you didn’t hear me,” responded Sherlock, already turning away. But John knew this just to be his petulant, toddler-like reaction to not getting what he wanted, which was this database. While he let Sherlock get over his disappointment, he headed to the fridge. Tea, now that was what he needed. A nice cup of-

“Sherlock, where is the milk?”

“Not to worry, we’ve only lost a morning, you can start it now, and...”

“The milk, Sherlock. I bought it this morning. It was here.”

“It wouldn’t fit in the fridge.”

“Of course it fit in the fridge. I put it in the heh! fridge.” He paused to rub his itching nose. “What wouldn’t fit in the fridge was heh! all these test tubes of God knows what.” John paused, one hand on the open fridge door, before doubling over with another sneeze. “Huh’ASCHOO!”

“They’re samples of dog saliva. Vital to the case. I threw the milk away.”

John pinched the bridge of his nose. No tea, then. Better and better.

“Anyway, that doesn’t matter. In order to get this database done before-“

“No.” John said, firmly.

Sherlock ploughed on. “Before tomorrow, you’ll need- what do you mean, no?”

“I mean, no, I am not going to do your database. I have been at work all morning, there is no milk for a cup of tea, and I have a filthy cold. I am going *snf!* to bed.”

To illustrate his point, John extracted another tissue from his packet, and blew his nose again. Then he left the room, before further argument ensued.

Half an hour later, John was woken from a doze by a knock at his door. Grumbling to himself about what Sherlock wanted now, he opened it. No Sherlock. Instead, sitting on the floor outside, was a steaming mug of tea, with milk, and a fresh box of tissues. Well, he thought, picking them up gratefully, maybe he does have a human side, after all.

Edited January 9, 2012 by Katrelle

[Aria]

Ooh, I really love your Buffy drabbles! The hurt/ comfort is beautiful and the sneezes even more so! Thoroughly enjoyed You've also captured the quirky Joss Whedon dialogue quite well. It can be difficult to master but you're a natural!

[queenie]

AAAH SHERLOCK LOVE CANNOT CONTAIN MYSELF NEED

[Triosk1]

@Queenie, @Aria, thanks for the feedback! Glad you liked

Yay, more Sherlock! Sick!Holmes this time, though. Also, have slightly re-edited the previous drabble, but probably not so's you'd notice.

#81 Solitude

Fandom/Original: Sherlock (BBC 2010-2012, series 1-2)

Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson

Fetish: Sherlock (male), cold

Word Count: 260

John Watson thought he had a realistic idea of what to expect when he returned from his weekend conference in Dublin. He did not predict that the flat would be tidy, nor that there would be anything edible in the fridge. He was even prepared to believe that Sherlock would show no sign of even noticing that he had been away. However, as he entered the living room of 221B, John was would have been the first to admit that he had not expected this.

Sherlock sat hunched on the sofa, a blanket thrown over his dressing-gown-clad shoulders, a steaming mug warming his hands. It took John approximately eight seconds to draw the necessary conclusions. Not difficult, given the piles of crumpled tissues and empty packets of Lemsip strewn all over the room.

“Sherlock, I go away for two days, and—“ He broke off as Sherlock raised an imperious finger. John waited obediently for his response. When, after several seconds, none materialised, he asked in exasperation, “What?”

Sherlock stared fixedly at an apparently fascinating spot on the opposite wall, finger still raised, before saying in hoarse, strained voice.

“Going...to sneeze...” Following which, he did so, with force, his slender, long-fingered hands holding a balled up tissue to his nose.

“Hi’KSSH!”

“Bless you,” replied John automatically. “Well, you seem to have caught quite a cold in my absence.”

Sherlock sniffed, looked dazedly upwards, and sneezed again.

“Hih’KSHOO!” Recovering with a sniff, he looked at his flatmate, who was surprised to find him smiling. “A most accurate deduction, John, well done.”

[Triosk1]

And another Sherlock! I'm on a roll today. The joke at the end is a reference to 'The Adventure of the Dying Detective', which is apparently a Holmes short story which I have not read, but which looks like hurt/comfort heaven if you're interested.

#4 Fake

Fandom/Original: Sherlock (BBC 2010-2012, series 1-2)

Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson

Fetish: Sherlock (male), fake

Word Count: 359

“Over there. That’s our man.” Sherlock jerked his head at a young man sitting a few tables from them in the café. He was early forties, greying hair, smartly dressed in a suit and tie.

“You sure?” John couldn’t see anything particularly incriminating about the man.

“Absolutely. Serial adulterer with a destructive gambling addiction. No doubt.”

“But we have no proof.”

Sherlock paused for a split-second, considering, before patting his inside pocket, and standing up. John watched apprehensively as Sherlock walked deliberately towards the potential gambling adulterer.

As he drew level with the man’s table, apparently on his way to the bathroom, Sherlock paused. John saw him put a hand to his face, and take several exaggerated breaths.

“Hah...heh...huh’ASSHOOO!” Unable to see Sherlock’s face, John couldn’t judge how convincing the performance was visually, but it was impressively realistic in sound.

Sherlock was mumbling apologetically as he reached into the pocket of his jacket. Upon withdrawing a white handkerchief, something metal and shiny clattered to the floor beside the seated man’s chair. Predictably, while Sherlock was still fumbling with the handkerchief, the man reached down to pick up the silver cigarette lighter.

“Oh, thank you so much,” Sherlock gushed, voice muffled through the fabric, leaning against the back of the man’s chair. In a movement so quick that John was only half-sure it had happened, an envelope was removed from the man’s jacket pocket and deposited in Sherlock’s inside one. By the time the cigarette lighter had been returned to its rightful owner, all necessary proof had been obtained.

“How did you—“ John began, as they left the café quickly.

“That the envelope was useful? He was fingering it all through lunch. Compulsive gambler, adulterer, had to be something incriminating.”

“Nicely done.” John was silent as they headed back to the flat. When they arrived, he made a note on his laptop while Sherlock removed his coat. As he crossed the room, Holmes glanced at the screen.

“No, John.” John grinned, sitting back in his chair.

“Why not?”

“John, you cannot call it ‘The Adventure of the Sneezing Detective.’”

John continued to grin broadly. “My blog, Sherlock, my title.”

Edited January 9, 2012 by Katrelle

[LeapYearKisses]

I admit that I haven't read your Buffy drabbles, since I'm not at all familiar with the series, but your Sherlock drabbles are SPOT ON. Well done! I hope you write more for them.

[MusicaDiabolos]

OMG brilliant! Sick!Sherlock is my new favourite I there a link to the short story you mentioned?

[Merino Sheep]

Not too familiar with Buffy yet, but I loved them! And I loved the BBC Sherlock even more! Keep up the awesome writing. =]

[Triosk1]

Yay, glad you liked! Sorry, this isn't an update as I haven't written any more, but you can find The Adventure of the Dying Detective on Project Gutenberg at http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/2347 if you're interested.

[Always]

Oh, these are lovely!

[Triosk1]

Hi, long time no update, sorry! Here are two Harry Potter drabbles, both cold, featuring Lupin and Snape. I've never tortured Snape before, but I love Alan Rickman, and having just read Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality (an AMAZING fanfic if you're a geek like me), I'm feeling a lot more sympathetic towards Snape. If you need inspiration to hear his sneezes, I suggest:

YUM.

#37 Chocolate

Fandom/Original: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

Characters: Remus Lupin

Fetish: Lupin, cold

Word Count: 319

Seventeen. Twelve more to go. And the clock continued to tick on into the night, as Remus sat at his desk, his quill occasionally inscribing a neat word or scruffy question mark onto the pile of third year essays. He shivered, drawing his robes closer around him, unwilling to expend magic to warm himself when he was already so tired. Another finished essay. Eleven.

“Heh...hah...” A tickle had been building at the back of his sinuses for a good minute, and now it had decided it was time. Turning aside from the desk, Remus cupped his hands over nose and mouth, releasing a weary sneeze, echoing in the small office. “Hrrushoo!” He sniffed, reaching into the pocket of his patched robes and retrieving his handkerchief to blow his nose, before returning to the pile of parchment.

Ten. Nine. He stretched out a hand for the twenty-first, then picked up his handkerchief instead, pressing the cloth to his nose just in time. “Huh’ASHOO! Ugh...” That sneeze had caught him by surprise, and his throat stung with its force. Those sneezes, he must be coming down with something; he really didn’t have time for a cold right now.

Shivering again, Remus forced himself to think rationally. He was sitting in a castle currently surrounded by Dementors, he was tired, and he was feeling very under the weather. Nevertheless, he had to get through these essays before bedtime. Dabbing at his still itching nose with his handkerchief, his other hand reached down into his bag, emerging with a wriggling, brown item. A chocolate frog.

Almost as soon as the chocolate had melted on his tongue, Remus felt a tiny glow of warmth spreading through his body. It wouldn’t last, he knew, but it should be enough to get him through to bed. Stifling a cough, he picked up the next essay. That is, if Miss Granger hadn’t insisted on writing 3 feet instead of six inches again.

#85 Teacher

Fandom/Original: Harry Potter (somewhere in Books 1-4)

Characters: Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall

Fetish: Snape, cold

Word Count: 443

Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, sat in his office and plotted cold, violent murder. He didn’t know which of his lazy, germ-ridden students had done it, but he had woken that day with a pounding headache, an unpleasant abundance of phlegm, and a persistent itching in his sinuses that meant only one thing. Snape sniffed broodingly, resolving that the next student to sneeze in his classroom would be given an hour’s detention. That might lift his black mood a little.

He swept into breakfast slightly late, after putting an industrial-strength cauldron of Pepper-Up Potion on to simmer. Further annoyance greeted him as he found that the only available seat was between Professors McGonagall and Flitwick.

“Good morning,” Minerva gave him a brief nod.

“Bornig,” Severus managed thickly through his cold. They were his first spoken words of the day, and he had to cough to clear his throat. Unfortunately, his chest had other ideas, turning a perfunctory ‘ahem’ into a fully blown coughing fit, rough and painful, bringing to mind a 40-a-day smoker with bronchitis. He held the sleeve of his robes to his face as he tried to regain control. As he managed to slow his breathing, Severus drank deeply from a glass of pumpkin juice.

“Severus, you sound ghastly,” said Minerva, apparently genuine concern in her voice. “Have you taken any Pepper-Up yet?” Snape opened his mouth for a cutting remark, realising in horror as he did so that he had to sneeze. He fumbled desperately in his pocket for a handkerchief, praying that he had left one in there. The sneeze built, tortuously, and he took several gasping, almost comically vocalised, breaths. He imagined that McGonagall and Flitwick were both watching in amusement, bobbing, cartoon-style, in time with each inhale, as he tried desperately to hold back the sneeze until he had retrieved his handkerchief.

“Huuh...heeeh....huuh!...” Finally, he found the correct pocket, yanked out the cloth and buried his nose in its folds.

“H’USSSH! Ugh, heh-heh’H’USSHOOO!....” A beat, as Severus geared up for a third sneeze, his face drawn back in a slack half-snarl, before jerking forward, nose in handkerchief once more. “AH’UFFSHOO!” The final wet, half muffled sneeze brought blessed release as he blew his nose, easing the heavy congestion clogging his sinuses. But not his mood.

“Bless you, Severus,” piped up Flitwick. His surprised, sympathetic tone of voice was the last straw for Snape. Standing up in one movement, he whirled from the great hall, returning to his dungeon office in record time, resolving not to come out until he had taken enough Pepper-Up to quell pneumonia, let alone this cold.

[stargazer]

I absolutely loved these two recent ones...especially the last. I just love a sneezy Snape.

[Akahana]

Ohmaigod I loved the Buffy ones!! Do you think you could do a little more feather torture with them? The one you did just killed me, I love it!!! <3333

[Lexi]

I just love a sneezy Snape.

ME TOO

[swann_ee_song]

Your Sherlock drabbles are MARVELOUS!!

And I loved the Snape one. Even though he's not my favourite for sneezing, I really liked it. The bit about Remus at the end with the chocolate was great. That's exactly how chocolate makes me feel too!

[Triosk1]

Hey guys! Sorry I haven't been around for a while. Here are another couple of drabbles in compensation

#48 Pathetic

Fandom/Original: Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Characters: Buffy, Giles

Fetish: Giles (male), cold/flu

Word Count: 381

Sunnydale High Library was uncharacteristically quiet this sunny Thursday afternoon. The final bell was just about to ring, and yet the usual clatter of equipment was noticeably absent. Usually, at this time, Rupert Giles would be busying himself with collecting the latest weaponry and the even more important protective padding from his armoury, ready for Buffy’s training session. But as his gaze flicked over his office clock, Giles could barely bring himself to rise and change location in favour of the atrium to wait for Buffy’s arrival.

Once ensconced, less comfortably, leaning against the table, Giles allowed himself a small grimace, massaging his temples with one hand and breathing deeply. Only a few seconds later, he heard the door swing as the Slayer arrived.

“Ah, Buffy,” he began hoarsely, then cleared his throat. “I’m—“ he got no further as Buffy interrupted.

“Miss Blake wants me to do extra revision on the Civil War, can you believe it? I thought just one paper on it was bad enough. I’ll definitely be imagining her face tonight in whatever we’re training on.”

“Buffy, I—“ Giles was interrupted again, but this time by a violent sneeze, which burst from him almost before he could retrieve a white handkerchief from his top pocket. “HrruSHOO!” He dabbed at his nose, trying to continue: “Oh, excuse me. I’m afraid I’m going to have to canc—“ the pitch of his voice rose as he tried to hold back a second sneeze, but it was no good. “Hrr’USSH! H’USHHOO!” Hoarse and desperate, Giles pressed his handkerchief to his face, bracing himself against the table as he sneezed. After the third, his sinuses pronounced themselves satisfied, and he raised his eyes to Buffy to resume his apology. “I’m so sorry, excuse me. It’s terribly pathetic I know, but I think we’ll have to cancel tonight’s training. I’m feeling, well, frankly, rather awful, and—“ Buffy cut across his increasingly

rambling words.

“Giles, you’re sick, it’s fine. You go home, and I can get on with Miss Blake’s paper before the deadline’s actually passed for once. You are ok, though?” She added as an afterthought. Giles nodded, smiling reassuringly. Buffy’s worried frown cleared, and a moment later, the door swung closed. Silence returned gently to the Sunnydale High Library.

#19 Promise

[Redacted]

Edited April 23, 2018 by Katrelle

[Salamander]

Wow, these are great. I LOVE me some Lupin any day of the week.

And then there's this;

“I’m so sorry, excuse me. It’s terribly pathetic I know, but I think we’ll have to cancel tonight’s training. I’m feeling, well, frankly, rather awful, and—“

Possibly the most adorable declaration of illness ever.

[sneasons greetings]

Oh my god. Remus. Love.