#(a sickfic with sweets!)

[flowercrowngods]

in which steve is sick, eddie is in love, and floor time is being had

Eddie is in the kitchen when he hears the sound of footsteps approaching him. The smile is on his face before he even turns around to catch a glimpse of Steve, gloriously disheveled from all that sleep he’s been catching up on. He’s wearing one of Eddie’s big, fuzzy sweaters that Steve always hogs when he’s sick — which, thankfully, isn’t all that often —, a thick pair of sweats and mismatched socks.

Sickness is the time to wear mismatched socks without judgment, Edwin Munswin, Steve had huffed the first time Eddie saw him with a runny nose and ridiculous socks that definitely didn’t belong together. It had been the first time he admitted to himself that he was absolutely gone for Steve Runny Nose Harrington.

And so it doesn’t come as a surprise to him that his heart stumbles in his chest and the smile on his lips widens. Steve might hate being sick, but Eddie can’t really help but love him even more when he gets like this. When Steve allows himself to be a little weak and for Eddie to take care of him.

“Hi, sunshine,” Eddie says, turning down the heat on the stove to go over to his Stevie, wrapping his arms around the blanket Steve still has around his shoulders. “Sleep well?”

“Mmh.” It’s nothing more than a raspy grunt, a pathetic little noise as Steve cuddles further into Eddie, seeking out his warmth and comfort so freely that Eddie presses a kiss to his slightly sweaty forehead. “Missed you.”

“I’m right here,” he promises, running a hand up and down Steve’s back. “Just made you tea while the soup is warming up. Because you’re gonna have to eat.”

“Okay,” Steve nods, sounding solemn as he does, and Eddie wants to laugh. Gods, he’s so in love, it’s disgusting. Ridiculous. Absolutely laughable. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” A whisper, another promise, another kiss. He unwinds his arms and looks back at the giant pot of soup he made yesterday. “Do you wanna go back to bed or stay here?”

“Here,” Steve sighs and promptly sinks down the counter until he’s sitting on the floor, looking up at Eddie with those beautiful brown eyes, so big and and full of love that Eddie can’t resist ruffling his hair, which earns him a little giggle from Steve.

Oh, right, he’s had the good stuff prescribed from the doctor. This is going to be fun in a few hours.

“You ridiculous man,” Eddie murmurs, trailing his hand from the crown of Steve’s head down across his cheek all the way to his chin in a gentle caress.

“Go back to your soup, you most ridiculous of men,” Steve says in retaliation, but he reaches for his hand to hold as Eddie returns to the stove.

“Technically it’s your soup.”

“That’s what I said.” Eddie looks down to see the most adorable of frowns on Steve’s head, and his heart explodes a little in his chest.

He snorts and squeezes Steve’s hand. “Sure is, baby.”

“See? I’m smart sometimes.”

“No argument from me there,” Eddie says, and he means it.

A hum comes from Steve and then he leans his head against Eddie’s leg. “You’re so nice to me, Eds. I like that you’re nice to me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And then it’s quiet, and the weight of Steve against his leg becomes heavier by the second to the point where Eddie is pretty sure Steve’s fallen asleep again. He doesn’t dare to move, but dear God he wants to laugh, he wants to cry, wants to scream at the world how much he loves this ridiculous, adorable, possibly delirious and high on cold medication man who is wrapped in his blanket on their kitchen floor.

“Stevie,” he whispers at last, the soup hot, the tea just cool enough, and cards his hand through Steve’s hair to wake him. “Sunshine, wake up, I have soup for you.”

“Soup?”

“Soup.”

“But I love soup.”

“Then I have great news for you,” Eddie laughs and tilts Steve’s head up so he’ll meet his eyes. “It’s plenty, it’s warm, and you can have some. It’s right here.”

“You made me soup?”

“Yeah, babe,” Eddie chuckles, his heart tearing itself apart at the way Stevie looks up at him with such wonder and awe and love. “I made you so much soup. All for you.”

Steve nods, thinks for a moment and then looks up at Eddie again. “Can we share?”

“You wanna share your soup with me?” Eddie says, crouching down so he’s on eye level with Steve and can brush a kiss to his forehead again.

Steve nods again and reaches for him, clinging to Eddie’s sweater — well, it’s Steve’s technically. “Wanna share everything with you.“

“Even your blanket?”

Steve smiles and nods again, lifting one arm to invite Eddie in, which earns him a laugh. “Alright, let me just…”

He grabs two bowls of soup, Steve’s large mug of tea, two spoons and two pillows from their chairs so they can eat the soup on the floor without uncomfortable heat in their laps.

Later, when soup is but a distant memory of half an hour ago, Steve lets himself fall to the side and slumps into Eddie, head nestled on his shoulder.

“Sleep time again?” Eddie asks.

“No,” Steve slurs, definitely already on his way to half asleep. “Just. Just love you.”

Eddie hums and leans into Steve in return, warm underneath their blanket, surprisingly comfortable on the floor, backs against the counter. “Just love you, too, sunshine.”

And if Eddie closes his eyes, too, lulled into a sleepy state of comfort and warmth, then that’s just one more thing that happens with a sick Steve around.

In sickness and in health, he thinks with that same smile on his lips.

for @seidenbros, i besmooch your forehead with this 🌷🤍

#steddie #steddie fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things #y’all wick MediMait has like 600mg paracetamol and 18% alcohol and idk if y’all ever had it but it can leave you In A State #so here you have some ridiculous delirious ‘high’ steve and an eddie who couldn’t be more in love #i had meant to write more floor time but it felt forced so i left it where it is #dio words #this is my first sickfic ever idk how this works but them being ridiculously sweet is okay right? #my brother used to be ridiculously sweet on me when i was sick. and i on him. idk there’s just love all around when anyone’s sick #idk how else do deal with this??

[tomssexdoll]

2006 tom or bill x sick fem reader? i don't know if you already did it, you can just ignore it then. buuut i was just thinking :)

Ofc!

Sick (version 2)

PAIRINGS: Tom 2006 x Female reader

CONTENT: FLUFF

SYPNOSIS: Y/N has fallen sick all of a sudden and calls her boyfriend Tom, asking him to come over and take care of her since her parents are away on a business trip.

A/N: eee

WARNINGS: none :)

I woke up, my nose congested and with a nasty cough, my throat raw. I grabbed my phone, dialling Tom's number.

He picked up instantly, "hey baby, what's up?" he seemed distracted, quiet video game noises coming from the phone as he spoke. "Can you come over...I'm sick and my parents are away" I cried out, my voice raspy.

"shit...yeah I'll be there in fifteen hold on schatz" he said, voice filled with concern, putting his controller down and hanging up.

I waited for him, laying in my bed. Time went so slow and he eventually arrived, I opened the door and looked up at him, my eyes red and puffy from crying and nose raw from all the wiping and blowing.

"Oh schatz..come here" he cooed, engulfing me in a sweet and tight hug. He was holding a bag with something heavy in it, I stared down at it "oh! Yeah my mum said to give you some soup, she made some the night before for our cousin who is sick" he chuckled, walking into the house and placing it on the counter.

I walked towards him and wrapped my hands around his waist, "I feel like shit..." I sniffled, resting my face on his back. "I know baby, I know" he mumbled, pouring the hot soup into a bowl for me, fetching a spoon.

"come here baby, eat this and you'll feel better, mum makes it for us when we're sick" he smiled softly, holding my hand and guiding me to the dining table. I sat down and slowly ate the soup, the liquid burning my throat.

"Feeling any better?" he took my hand, rubbing it softly with his thumb. I nodded "a little.." I sighed, drooping my head down.

"Aw..c'mon let's get you some medicine and then we can get into bed" he whispered in my ear, caressing my head softly. I followed him into the kitchen again, watching as he grabbed the bottle of medicine and spoon fed it to me.

"you're so cute when you're like this" he chuckled, holding my hand and walking to the bedroom with me. I gently layed down, feeling the bed dip as he came behind me and grabbed my waist, wrapping his arms around me sweetly.

He caressed my hair, whispering sweet nothings into my ear, "you're ok baby..I'm here now", he softly kissed my neck, rubbing my back with his other hand.

"when will it go away..." I groaned, he frowned, hating when I was in pain "oh liebe I don't know, but you'll feel better soon just focus on me..c'mon" he flipped me over to face him, looking deeply into my eyes.

"Do I look bad.." I whined, he chuckled "oh baby..I don't care if you looked like a goblin I'd still love you" he caressed my cheek softly, I scoffed "so I do look bad?" "There's the y/n I know and love, see you're starting to get better, your attitude is back" I giggled and smacked his arm playfully.

"But to answer your question, you do look pretty rough but you're still beautiful" he smiled, kissing me softly. "Fine I'll take that" I smiled, rolling my eyes.

@tomscumdump @itsmealaiah

#tom kaulitz #tokiohotel #bill kaulitz #georg listing #gustav schäfer #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz x y/n #tom kaulitz x you #tom kaulitz fluff #tokio hotel fluff #sweet fluff #fluff #sickfic #sick #i want him #caring #i need him #ilovetomkaulitzmybfomg

[mjbunnyluv]

Recompense

Zhongli wakes among silk sheets, body shivering against the cool air that slips under while he turns on his side. He swallows thickly, throat feeling strained and sore.

“Hmm. Some tea perhaps.”

When he throws the sheets off and drops his feet off the side of the bed, a harsh shudder rolls through his body.

“That is new,” he says to himself. 

It has been six months since he’d given up his gnosis to the Tsaritsa. Since stepping down as Archon of Liyue. Six whole months of living a mortal life. Zhongli supposes that he is finally adjusting, feeling what mortals feel with the changing of seasons.

He stands and quickly rests a hand against the side of his face as his head pounds fiercely. It is as if he’s been hit with a club, temple and cheek throbbing beneath the surface. He grunts and blinks away the pain before making his way to the kitchen.

“Tea,” he says again, shuffling a few containers on the counter to find the right blend. 

A chime rings outside, bells singing at the top of a new hour. Zhongli pauses in his tea making and counts the chimes.

“No, that cannot be right.” Still, amber eyes shift to the noctilucous jade clock that decorates the wall. “Oh dear. It seems that I have slept in. That will not do.”

Pushing the containers of tea leaves back into their rightful place, Zhongli moves about the apartment to get ready for the day. When he bends down to retrieve a clean pair of trousers, that awful pounding in his head returns.

Bright spots dance around the edges of his vision. He reaches up to rub at his temple, trying to massage away the pain. Once it subsides, he concludes dressing and takes the elegant staircase down two levels to the main lobby of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.

Director Hu Tao was generous enough to allow him lodging above the place. As such, Zhongli appeared in his office at exactly the time his daily shift was supposed to start.

“Zhongli, you’re late.”

“My apologies, Director,” he bows his head courteously to the short statured woman. “I foolishly slept in this morning.”

Hu Tao crosses her arms and regards him with curious eyes. A single brow raises as she taps her chin in thought. “You look quite pale today. Dark circles under your eyes too.”

“I am sure it will pass, but I have been experiencing a pain in the side of my face. It is quite unusual, but I assure it will not hinder my work, Director.”

“Oh?” Hu Tao perks up. “Shall I gather the proper documentation for your last testament?”

Zhongli fixes her with an unamused stare. “That will not be necessary.”

“Whatever you say,” she says in a sing-song voice, wandering to her office to begin her daily routine.

With a deep inhale that makes his chest feel heavy, Zhongli enters his own office and begins his tasks. A few requests to sort through, but nothing particularly pressing. It allows him time to do a bit of research, consulting books around the parlor. The information in them just makes his head spin.

“Surely, this cannot be correct,” he mutters to himself as he flips the page. “Mortals are burdened with such weakness.” 

Zhongli tries not to think too much about his ailments, but by midday he has a few more symptoms to add to the list. A cough has developed. Nothing horrid like those who visit the infirmary in dire condition, but a nagging sort of thing. Each time he thinks he has cleared the sore itch in his throat, the urge to cough returns. 

He sniffles, clearing his nose that has begun to drip incessantly. “Well, this is just…” Zhongli trails off with another cough.

“Sounds like I should get your measurements,” Hu Tao comments in passing. 

“Not necessary.”

An hour before the end of his shift, when the light filtering through the window has turned the color of rust, Zhongli rests his head against the cool wood of his desk. His eyes flutter closed and his breathing evens out. Exhaustion is not a new concept. Though he is hardier than the common mortal, able to last three days before sleep became a necessity, it is strange to feel it take hold before the sun has fully set. Not to mention, he slept the evening prior.

“Just for a few moments,” Zhongli whispers to himself. “A short rest.”

Unsure of how much time has passed, Zhongli startles awake when a hand rests on his shoulder. Reflexes take over, his hand flashing upward to grip his attacker.

“Woah there, Zhongli,” a familiar voice warbles. 

Blinking back the fog, amber eyes settle on the newcomer’s face, recognizing the particular shade of blue glinting in their eyes.

“Childe?”

“Uh huh,” the Fatui Harbinger nods. 

“I was unaware you returned to Liyue. I thought you had been summoned to Snezhnaya,” Zhongli comments, releasing his hold on Childe’s wrist.

“New assignment,” the man shrugs. “Though I’m sure the people of Liyue will have something to say about it.”

“Hmm.” A deep breath makes the former archon cough again. His face contorts as something wet and bitter rises to the back of his tongue.

Childe is quiet beside him, observing with shocked curiosity. “Are you sick?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Zhongli dismisses him.

“Oh, am I?” An eyebrow raises in a bit of a teasing manner, making light of the situation. “I’m not the one on death’s door, Xiansheng.”

“So, preparations should commence,” Hu Tao chirps from the doorway. “I’ll grab the paperwork.”

“Honestly,” Zhongli huffs. “I am not sick, nor am I dying.”

That tickle in his throat is more annoying than before, causing him to let out a few wet coughs. His head pounds each time, and with a groan, the archon reaches up to massage his temples.

“Right,” Childe sighs. “Looks like we’re making a stop at Bubu Pharmacy. Come on.”

Zhongli doesn’t have a chance to argue before the harbinger’s hand grasps his bicep and practically drags him out of his office. The director is singing to herself - an old funerary song - while she gathers the usual forms needed to plan a final farewell. 

“Don’t worry Director Tao,” Childe waves with a smile as they pass through the lobby. “Next time you see Zhongli, he’ll be right as rain.”

Once they’re outside, the temperature cool but not unpleasant, Childe finally lets go and falls into step beside him.

“I didn’t think archons could get sick.”

“Nor did I,” Zhongli sighs. It feels like cotton is stuffed inside his head. His usually exceptional hearing and sense of smell are hindered and the pounding behind his eyes is more than a little concerning.

“Aha, so you admit that you are sick!”

“Hmm, yes, I suppose that is the most plausible explanation for these terrible symptoms.”

“What are your symptoms?” Childe asks. “After living in Snezhnaya most of my life, I’ve come up with a lot of remedies for these kinds of things. I noticed you have a cough. Does your throat hurt, too?”

“It does indeed,” Zhongli nods. “Perhaps your expertise in these matters is necessary. Upon standing after I awoke this morning, I felt a throbbing pain against the side of my face. It seems to have become more insistent as the day has gone on. I have gotten much use from my handkerchief today as well.”

“Sounds like it’s just a cold.” The man shrugs.

This makes the archon slow, blinking as he takes in Childe’s words. “Just a cold?” He asks in a measured tone. “Do all mortals suffer these symptoms during their lifetime?”

“Yeah, I guess. I mean, a cold is pretty common.” 

Zhongli ponders this on their walk. They pass through the gate that leads toward Yujing Terrance and approach the stairs leading to Bubu Pharmacy. 

“Think you can make it to the top, Xiansheng?” Childe teases, taking two steps at a time in quick succession.

“Such insolence,” Zhongli mutters, beginning his ascension. 

Halfway there, he feels out of breath. His cough is more insistent and he is starting to feel a bit lightheaded. He paused to regain his strength, raising his gaze to take in the remaining steps. Childe was at the top looking equal parts amused and bewildered.

“Okay down there?!” The Fatui Harbinger calls lightly.

Zhongli climbs the rest of the way and fixes his companion with the most disapproving look he can muster. “You joke, though I imagine you have been in worse states than I am at the moment, Childe.”

The ginger haired man coughs lightly into his fist, though it sounds suspiciously like a laugh. “I mean no offense, Xiansheng. Just trying to keep things light.”

Amber eyes squint, observing Childe. There is a tightness to his jaw and stiffness in his shoulders. Eyes the color of the sea that laps at Liyue’s shore are sharp and serious, betraying the nonchalant smile that is plastered on his lips.

Zhongli reaches out, his hand resting on Childe’s shoulder in a comforting manner. “No need to worry, my friend. If it is…just a cold, as you say, then I am sure Doctor Baizhu will have a remedy to offer.”

“R-Right,” Childe chokes out before stepping out from under the former archon’s touch and makes his way into the pharmacy. 

Qiqi, just following orders, nearly makes the harbinger rip his hair out before Doctor Baizhu makes an appearance. He apologizes for her insistence that a prescription is needed. It is only when Childe explains that it’s not him who needs medicine but Zhongli that Baizhu turns and regards him with scrutiny.

Hands find their way to Zhongli’s face and neck, pressing lightly. He flinches at the doctor’s cool touch and the next thing he knows, a wrist is pressed to his forehead.

“Hmm. Fever, some swelling in the lymph nodes, and you’ve coughed quite a bit since arriving. Tell me Mr. Zhongli, how long have you had these symptoms.”

“Since this morning,” he answers with a level tone, trying to keep his annoyance at being touched under control.

“I see. Well, judging by the harbinger’s concern, I’ll give you a few things that will ease your discomfort,” Doctor Baizhu states, turning back toward Qiqi to rattle off names of medicines and herbs.

“I’m not concerned,” Childe bites out. The dusting of pink on his cheeks reveals his embarrassment at being caught in his emotions.

It warms Zhongli’s heart to know his friend cares so much about him. That he would go out of his way to care for him while in this predicament.

They leave with a bag of medicine and instructions hand written by Baizhu and a reminder to return should his symptoms become worse.

The walk back to Wangsheng Funeral Parlor is quiet, save for the light conversation that flutters down from the upper levels of Liuli Pavilion. 

Zhongli turns to regard his companion as they ascend the steps leading to his apartment and finds that Childe’s blush has darkened, eyes looking without seeing.

“Something troubles you, my friend.”

His voice seems to jolt the harbinger from his thoughts, who clears his throat and looks down at his boots when they arrive at the door. 

“It’s nothing.”

Well now, that’s certainly a lie. Zhongli may still be learning how to navigate the subtle intricacies of mortal life but Rex Lapis observed both adepti and mortals for over six millenia. He’s come to learn a thing or two about hiding one’s emotions.

“Childe?”

Those brilliant blue eyes snap to amber, a light smile turning up peach lips. All traces of worry are hidden behind Childe’s carefully constructed mask.

“Good night, Xiansheng. Hope you feel better in the morning.”

“Thank you,” Zhongli bows his head slightly. 

Childe is already halfway down the steps when the former geo archon enters his apartment. Alone once more, and in desperate need of some warm tea, Zhongli begins heating the kettle to the perfect temperature. The medicine prescribed to him by Doctor Baizhu is carefully set on the counter and he reads the instructions while his tea is being prepared. There is some kind of syrupy concoction that smells of bitterness, making Zhongli’s nose scrunch in distaste. Also, a paste or ointment meant to be rubbed over his chest to aid in clearing the pressure he feels in his face while he sleeps.

With tea expertly prepared, he takes a seat at his small, but elegant table, body aching as he lowers himself into the seat. 

The syrup tastes horrid, making Zhongli gag and hold a gloved hand to his lips. 

“An awful way to ruin beautiful tea,” he says to himself, taking a sip to wash away the bitterness that clings to his tongue.

The tub of ointment is not much better. It makes Zhongli’s skin stick to his silk pajamas in a way that makes him feel dirty. After having slept the previous night, it is strange to slumber again. However, exhaustion still holds a firm grip on the former archon. It takes some time, but eventually he falls into a sleep riddled with strange dreams. 

When he awakes, Zhongli feels worse than the previous morning. He cannot breathe out of his nose, nor inhale without coughing. He shivers under the sheets and tucks his knees in close to his body. 

“The director will surely not take this as an excuse. I must get ready for the day,” he said so himself, voice raw. He wonders if he had been coughing in his sleep.

Upon standing, he falls straight back to the bed with a weak sigh. His body aches and his head throbs unpleasantly. Though he does not want to experience the taste of that bitter medicine, Zhongli knows Doctor Baizhu wouldn’t have prescribed it without the utmost care and knowledge.

He is sluggish in arriving downstairs and when Hu Tao gets a look at him, he is promptly dismissed with the director’s harsh threat to get well soon.

Tea does little to warm his shivering body, eyelids heavy as he sits at the table and sips the hot drink. Zhongli’s bed looks inviting and once he finishes the tea, he crawls under the sheets. Each time he thinks he’s about to drift off, consciousness suddenly sparks. The sound of someone working on the floor below, birds chirping just outside the window, the urgent feeling that he should be hiding in this weakened state. Though he tries to will himself to check the door, Zhongli falls asleep before he can finish that thought.

The next time he awakes, it’s to the feel of something damp pressed against his forehead and a heaviness that has been laid across his body.

Amber eyes blink open, just making out familiar messy ginger hair and a lithe frame flitting about the kitchen.

“Childe?” Zhongli croaks, throat dry and incredibly sore.

“Ah Xiansheng, you’re awake,” his friend answers, relief clear on his face as he approaches the bedside. “I know you’re an archon and all, but maybe you should think about locking your door when you plan to sleep.”

“I did not plan on it,” he responds.

“Yeah, I guess being sick will do that to you,” Childe chuckles softly and rubs the back of his neck. “When I came to check up on you, Hu Tao mentioned she sent you away to rest.”

“And you barged your way in?”

“I did not barge in.” He rolls his eyes. “The door was unlocked. Besides, you were shivering so I took the time to make you more comfortable.”

Zhongli finally sees the reason for the weight lying over his body. A thick quilt that he does not recognize is draped over the silk sheets.

“Hmmm, it’s warm.”

“Good,” Childe nods, intending to leave the room before abruptly turning back around to remove the damp cloth lying on Zhongli’s forehead. “Do you think you could eat? I picked up some black-back perch stew from Wamin Restaurant. Xiangling sends her regards, by the way.”

“That is very kind,” Zhongli says, mustering a smile. “I will have to thank her the next time I visit.”

“So, do you want some?” There is a nervousness in the harbinger’s crystal blue eyes.

“You’ve gone through much trouble for my sake. It would be a slight against you to refuse such kindness.”

“It’s just soup, Xiansheng.”

Childe disappears back into the kitchen and Zhongli hears the rustling of a paper bag. No doubt, he’s setting the table with the food he acquired from Wamin Restaurant. 

With a groan, Zhongli leaves the bed, pausing to look back. His fingers slide across the quilt. Soft cotton squares depicting patterns foreign to Liyue are stitched together with shining thread. He doesn’t let himself linger on the many questions his mind drums up, instead wrapping the blanket over his shoulders and joining Childe at the table.

“It’s comfy, right?” his friend smiles, looking pointedly at the quilt.

“Indeed,” Zhongli answers, pulling it tighter around him. “I don’t recognize the pattern…or craftsmanship.”

“Snezhnayan,” Childe tells him. “I brought it from home. Don’t really use it much since it’s so much warmer here in Liyue, but it’s– it’s a comfort.”

The former archon can hear the love laced into those words. A prized item. “And you would allow me to use it in my weakened state?”

His friend shrugs with a nod like he hasn’t just given Zhongli a piece of himself.

“I will take great care of this.”

“I appreciate it,” Childe says softly. “Here, try this.” A bowl of black-back perch stew is placed in front of him.

Food is decidedly harder to consume, but the broth is warm and eases the ache in his throat. 

“Would it be wise to visit Bubu Pharmacy again?”

“Nah,” Childe shakes his head before taking another spoonful of his own soup. “This is just the way with being sick. Sometimes you feel worse before you get better.”

“I see,” Zhongli hums. “Then I will proceed with the care instructions Doctor Baizhu gave last night.”

They resume their meal, quietly enjoying the stew together. Though Zhongli would prefer not to feel so awful, Childe’s presence fills him with pleasant warmth. 

“I believe I will rest some more,” he announces once only a few spots of liquid remain in the bowl.

“Good idea.” 

Childe collects their bowls and utensils. He begins cleaning up as Zhongli crawls into bed once more, pulling the quilt around him a bit tighter. His friend is right in his description that it is a comfort. The sound of dishes clinking and water running softly lulls him to sleep.

Silence meets Zhongli’s ears as he slowly comes to. For a moment he wonders if Childe has left, only to feel a gentle touch run through his hair. That wet cloth is plastered to his forehead once more and he feels a bit better than earlier. 

“Keep resting, Xiansheng,” Childe whispers.

Amber eyes flutter open. The room is dark save for the single lantern casting a warm glow from the bedside table. It must have been hours since he shared stew with his friend.

“You’re still here,” Zhongli mumbles.

“It’s the least I can do…” 

“Hmm.” 

The former archon thinks about the strange emotion that tinges Childe’s tone. Though he is still learning about the many facets of mortal life, he is coming to understand regret. Of course he experienced the emotion as Rex Lapis, but it meant something different before he chose to step down as Liyue’s revered god.

“I hold no ill will towards you for releasing Osial,” Zhongli finally says, turning his head to regard the Snezhnayan warrior. “In fact, without you, I do not believe the Adepti and Qixing would have ever come together.”

Childe’s lips turn into a straight line, eyes hard to read in the low light.

“I have apologized for using you as a pawn in my contract with the Tsaritsa, and I will do so again if it is required of me.”

“No,” his friend sighs. “It’s not– I…”

Zhongli stays quiet, allowing Childe to sort his thoughts into the words he wants to speak aloud.

After a few moments of silence, the harbinger speaks. 

“I released Osial in hopes that I would draw out Rex Lapis…but you never appeared. A good fight is worth everything to me and what better way to test my strength than against a literal god?”

“Ah,” Zhongli nods slightly. “I see. Perhaps I could make it up to you with a spar. Once I am back to full health, of course.”

Crystal blue eyes blink at him once, twice, before a sparkle of mischief and excitement returns to them. A smirk pulls at the corner of peach lips and Zhongli returns the sentiment. 

“I would like that,” Childe answers.

“Then we have a contract. Once I have regained my strength, we will spar.” 

Zhongli settles against the bed again and lets his eyes flutter closed. If he feels that gentle touch resume gliding through his hair, he does not comment on it. Instead, he sighs softly, leaning into the comfort so easily given by his friend.

#genshin impact #zhongchi #zhongli #childe #tartaglia #fluff #sickfic #cold #zhongli gets sick #childe takes care of zhongli #baizhu #cute #caretaker childe #soft tartaglia #sweet #soft zhongli #xiansheng as a term of endearment #hu tao genshin impact #hu tao being a little shit

[ajaxpilled]

despite it going against his entire character i feel like childe would be so pathetic when he's sick,, telling everybody "i'm fine" through a voice thick with congestion. he trails around miserably, lacklustre and sighing miserably (as best he can with a sore throat and stuffy nose), in comparison to his usual cheer and energy. the freckles on his nose are sharper against the red flush, the blue in his eyes softened by red rimmed wateriness, his hair even more tousled than usual.

but when it comes to zhongli/neuvillette/wriothesley etc, he snuggles into them, clingy and miserable in the privacy of their home, and lets himself be babied. he blows his nose into the tissues they hold up for him. he obediently takes the spoons of medicine they hold up and holds onto the heat pack they make him as he lays in their lap under piles of blankets, falling asleep to the soft sounds of them reading him a book while they rub his back, letting out small sniffles and coughs all the while. drinks the warm tea and eats the soup they spoon feed him after protesting half-heartedly, appetite all but diminished and uncomfortable with the steaming heat in his face. he lets himself be carried to bed after falling asleep and woken up with herbal tea and sliced toast with jam, hand gently carding through his hair and lips soft against his forehead.

after all he has been through, all he has done, since the young age of fourteen, it's difficult to let himself be taken care of, and a rare thing he indulges in (especially while sick and vulnerable) - but the way they hold him so gently, eyes soft and hands warm on his cold back and upset tummy, asking him if he needs more tissues or medicine or blankets; asking him if he feels any better, warning him to rest and take it easy - he thinks sometimes, it's nice to depend on others. it's nice to have his sickness be a cause of worry and caretaking instead of an inconvenience in his work or fear of contagion. it's not so bad, being loved.

#sickfic #idek #im so soft for sick childe rn #i guess in the cold weather cxffing season im just like #shduehydufjr childe being looked after and loved for once <33 #hes such a kind sweet guy and nobody in game seems to care about his well being :( #i feel like if its scara he would pretend to complain the entire time but secretly love that he gets to mind him shdjgdjjdhd

[enchantedchocolatebars]

A Spoonful Of Sugar (This fic is canon divergent)

Caleb enters his bedroom with a metal pail filled with water and a rag floating inside.

His mother was sitting on a small wooden stool, taking care of a sick Philip in bed.

Patience was doing everything she could to bring down her youngest son's viral fever.

"Here's the water you requested," Caleb informed Patience, putting the bucket down beside her.

Thanking her oldest, she reached inside for the wet rag and started wringing the water out.

After that, she folded the cloth before placing it on top of Philip's forehead.

This would help cool down his skin and temperature a bit, thus providing him with some relief from his fever.

"Mother, is Philip going to be okay?" Caleb asked in a timid voice, gazing at his mother with troubled eyes.

The small blonde was extremely worried about his baby brother.

He wanted him to recover from his sickness.

Caleb received a small nod from Patience followed by a soft smile. "He will. I'll make certain of it," She assured him as the blonde smiled hopefully at her before leaving.

Patience returns her attention to Philip.

"Philip, would you be willing to sit up for me? I have something I want you to take."

Despite his discomfort, Philip managed to sit up and saw his mother bring a tablespoon of black syrup to his lips.

"Open wide," She gently instructed.

After taking a small sniff of the strange, syrupy liquid, Philip immediately wanted to gag.

It smelt awful!

The fact that the liquid didn't look appetizing to have inside his mouth didn't help either.

Philip shook his head.

"Mm-mm!" The brunette uttered in a pouty voice, crossing his arms defiantly.

"Now Philip," Patience began, a hint of sternness in her sweet voice, "Your sickness requires the help of this medicine. My mother would always give it to me whenever I was ill."

"But mother," Philip complained in a whiny voice, "I don't want it! It looks and smells icky."

He wasn't entirely wrong, Patience thought.

Taking medicine as a child was not a pleasant experience for her either.

The scent and taste were not enjoyable.

"How about this? I'll make sure to bring you something sweet to soothe the bitter taste of your medicine if you take it," Patience promised with a smile. "How does that sound?"

For a moment, Philip contemplated the offer.

On a day like today, something sweet seemed promising.

"Okay then." He nods in agreement, opening his mouth as Patience inserts the spoon inside.

While taking out the spoon, Patience notices that Philip is still holding the medicine in his mouth and looks as though he wants to spit it out badly.

"I understand it's unpleasant, Philip, but please swallow it all," Patience advised.

After swallowing the medicine with a silent sigh, Philip immediately makes a face.

"Blech!" He said, sticking his tongue out.

"Thank you." Patience smiled as she stood up from her stool and walked to the door. "I'll be right back."

...

Patience had a hot cup of tea in her hand when she returned to the room, taking a seat back on her stool.

She begins to blow on some of the steam that is coming from the cup before giving it to Philip.

"Here, Philip, I added a spoonful of sugar to your tea. That should make the medicine go down," she stated as Philip took the cup to his lips and started to gulp down the tea.

"Little sips, Philip," Patience advised as Philip began to take his time sipping the warm liquid.

He lowered the cup. "Thank you, Mother!" He beamed, taking another sip of the warm drink.

He was happy to get rid of the unpleasant medicine taste.

"I love this tea! It's so sweet!"

"I know that you have an affinity for sugar," she giggled.

He obtains it from her. "When you've recovered, would you be interested in dessert?"

Philip's blue eyes lit up as he quickly nodded to the idea.

"YES, I WOULD! I WANT APPLE PIE! 🍎 🥧"

"Very well then."

"WITH ROSEWATER ICE CREAM!"

Patience playfully sighed at her son's second request, still smiling at him. "You and your sweet tooth... Fine. Apple pie and rosewater ice cream once you're well."

"Can you, me, and Caleb make the pie and ice cream together?"

"Of course."

As he brought the cup of tea to his lips for the second time, Philip smiled back at his mother.

#(a sickfic with sweets!) #(now i want tea and pie and ice cream lol ☕ 🥧 🍦) #(kid philip is so cute) #(ALSO AAA MA/RY POP/PINS SONG REFERENCE) #the owl house #owl house #toh #emperor belos #belos #kid belos #kid philip #belosfanstakeover #patience wittebane #oc #original character #fanfic #fanfics #fanfiction #fanfictions #writing #my writing

[pmak2002]

The chocolatier’s Apprentice

Willy was enjoying teaching Noodle how to make her own chocolate. It was nice watching her experiment with his help and together the two were having fun and now that he had his own factory. He could afford to pay Noodle for helping him.

Unfortunately it wasn’t always easy.

One day Noodle gave Willy one of her newest chocolates to try.

It didn’t go well.

The next thing he knew Willy’s stomach was swirling and aching. He was nauseous and was afraid he might be sick.

Of course Noodle noticed immediately when he started looking unwell and she panicked. She had hurt him! She rushed around caring for him and constantly apologizing.

“Noodle please don’t worry. I’m alright.”

Willy tried to comfort her as his hands wrapped around his middle.

“No Willy I made a mistake and now you’re sick. It’s my fault.”

“Noodle please you know that mistakes happen when we do anything.” Willy said

He groaned as he felt another cramp rip through his stomach. The chocolate Noodle had made him had tasted so good. So why did his stomach hurt?

Noodle grabbed a bucket.

Just seeing it made Willy gag.

“It’s ok to throw up Willy. I’m sorry.” Noodle said worriedly.

“Apple Strudel it tasted good! There’s no need to be sorry.”

Wily coughed and swallowed hard. Oh how he hated to throw up.

“Willy if it hurts get it out of your system.”

“But it tasted fine Noodle!”

“Just get it up I don’t want you to suffer.” Noodle said.

Willy coughed and retched hard until he finally brought up the barely digested chocolate. It hurt more coming out of his mouth then when he eaten it.

Willy put a hand on his stomach. He thought after puking it would have helped but his stomach still hurt. Noodle helped him up from his chair. "Come on let's get you to bed."

Willy whined "but what about your chocolate?" he asked her.

"Don't worry I'll figure out a recipe that won't make you sick." she said

"I hope this didn't discourage you Noodle." Willy coughed and rubbed his stomach.

"it didn't but you certainly gave me a good fright." she said

Willy laughed as Noodle helped him to his bedroom to rest.

Once Noodle got Willy comfortable he fell asleep. Noodle went to work on her chocolate to hopefully avoid another mishap.

#wonka 2023 #willy wonka #Wonka Sickfic #sick Willy Wonka #noodle is worried #chaos ensues #Willy is too sweet despite suffering #Noodle is panicked #wonka #noodle #noodle noodle apple strudel #wonka fanfic #wonka timothee #timothée chalamet

[iamjustbread]

Fuck it I've been looking for this fic for about twenty minuets and I cannot find it despite remember key plot points.

So, the fic

It was a Izuku x Katsuki fic where they both were adults. Katsuki had been hit by an unknown villain quirk while on partol(?) with Izuku, but nothing really changed with Katsuki. They caught the villain and they were brought back to HQ by another hero to be examined, and Izuku was instructed to watch over Katsuki to make sure it wasn't a quirk that affected him later.

As it turns out, the quirk was a cupid arrow's type, but with Katsuki already being madly in love with Izuku to the point he was able to supress it to a congratual degree, nothing changed with him. Ends with a sweet confession from Izuku while taking care of his sickly bud.

Now, I 100% read this on ao3. I think it was tagged sickfic but I cannot find it for the life of me. I am losing my mind because I miss it and just wanna read it again it was so sweet and cute and it made me die inside from the fluff

(another note, I found the fic at around may? I think? Probably last year because I don't remember being intrested in bnha for like at least three years. but like what do I know ahaha) (note2, it's been found!! Check replys for the user who found it, but here it is!!

)

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bkdk #fanfiction #fanfiction question #help find ao3 fic #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #unknow ao3 fic need help finding #I am crying I miss it #where are you oh sweet sickfic

[sickficideas]

Hiya! May I request sick Chuuya and the flags take care of him?

ANON !!! I FINALLY GOT A GOOD BIT INTO STORMBRINGER...i got WAYYY too attached oh my god i love them all so much. i hope you like this fic i had fun writing it!!!

just a dream || chuuya + the flags sickfic (+ skk)

ao3! 5k words, sickfic, stormbringer light novel spoilers - please refer to the link for additional tags!

"I'm comin' in. Hide your girlfriends."

Chuuya groans, holding a pillow over his head. It's far too early in the morning for this. The morning light hasn't even fully flooded his room yet. He’s not entirely sure how Albatross got into his apartment to begin with, but either way, he wasn’t invited.

"Or boyfriends! I don't discriminate. You know, me and D-"

"Stop! Stop, I don't wanna know," Chuuya exclaims, loud enough to drown out the rest of Albatross's sentence in case he decided to keep going. He had plans with Albatross this morning, he thinks. Something work-related that he can't quite place right now. But they were supposed to meet at work.

Chuuya got up at some point in the middle of the night to throw up. He hardly remembers it at all, but he just barely made it to the toilet. He remembers making a few texts about not being able to come into work this morning, and one of those texts apparently went to Albatross.

"Wake up! A hangover never stopped any of us," Albatross exclaims proudly, his voice suddenly sounding much closer. Chuuya's arms are weak, he doesn't have the energy to hold the pillow over his head, and he doesn't care enough to use his ability. Albatross takes the pillow and uncovers him, and clicks his tongue at the sight. "Oh, shit, kid. You really did it this time, huh?"

"I'm not hungover," Chuuya groans, reaching an arm back out for the pillow. Albatross hands it back, but only lets him tuck it against his chest. Chuuya holds it close to him with a weak groan.

"Could'a fooled me," Albatross jokes.

"I'm serious," Chuuya grumbles, letting his eyes travel up to Albatross's face. "It's - a cold, or something."

Albatross still looks suspicious, landing a hand on his hip. He leans forward and reaches for Chuuya's forehead with his free hand.

"Sheesh, kid. You're really runnin' a fever there," he says with a click of his tongue. He pushes his sunglasses up to the top of his head, giving Chuuya a rare glimpse at his eyes. He really wishes he’s put them back on. He doesn’t like how concerned he looks. "How long you been feelin' sick for, huh?"

"Just…just since last night," Chuuya murmurs, dropping his gaze. He doesn't see the point in lying to him. He doesn't even really remember feeling sick the night before, it really only hit him that time he woke up.

"You stayin' home today?" Albatross asks.

"Uh-huh," Chuuya murmurs. He only looks at him for a second but he can't handle the worry on his face. It doesn't look right. He's never seen him make that face. "Told everyone I needed to already."

"Good. Cause it'd be crap to work when you don't feel good," Albatross says, sounding relieved. "I'll call Doc for ya. I'm sure -"

"No, please - please don't," Chuuya murmurs. "Don't tell anyone."

Albatross tilts his head.

"I just…it's not a big deal. I'll be fine tomorrow," Chuuya huffs, turning his face into his pillow. He hopes Albatross will just leave Chuuya to sleep this off, but he's not sure he'll get too lucky this time. His body betrays him and forces out a few coughs that are muffled by the pillow. He can’t tell if that’s part of his illness or if he’s just starting to feel nauseous again.

"Alright, alright. I've gotta call someone if you don't get better, though, got it?" Albatross tells him. “Lemme get you some water. You gotta stay hydrated, kid.”

Albatross disappears from Chuuya’s bedroom, and Chuuya groans into his pillow before he turns his body around, facing away from the door.

He hears Albatross talking to himself in Chuuya’s kitchen, which isn’t unusual at all for him - the guy has a hard time keeping things to himself, no matter the content. Chuuya thinks he hears his name at some point, but now that he’s starting to wake up some more, he’s starting to feel nauseous again.

The saliva starts to pool in his mouth and he groans at the feeling, starting to panic just a bit. He doesn’t want Albatross to see him throw up. He doesn’t want anyone to see him sick at all, it’s humiliating enough as it is, but this would just make things so much worse.

He's swallowing saliva, something he can’t do much longer because he feels his stomach pushing up and trying to get something up his esophagus. He knows he's going to throw up, but he can't move. He's so sore and achy. He tries to force himself to sit up, but he can hardly keep himself propped up with his weak and shaky arms.

Chuuya's stomach lurches without time for him to better prepare and he feels something splash into the back of his throat. He gags, hard, all the muscles in his abdomen contracting to bring something up, a thin stream of pale, digested contents from his stomach. He groans, his free arm wrapped tight around his middle, eyes screwed shut. It hurts.

“Shit, Chuuya…” he hears from behind him. His stomach twists and he starts to breathe heavy, hoping that getting more air in will somehow quell his nausea, but it only makes it worst. He’s just a billion times more anxious now with someone watching him and now he can’t get anything else up. He wants to cry, but he can’t imagine doing that while he’s already puking.

"Just get it up, kid. Sheets are super easy to clean," he feels the mattress shift as Albatross climbs on next to him with a gentle hand on his back. "Don't breathe so hard. Breathe gentle and it'll come up."

He tries, he really does, taking deep, calculated breaths through his mouth, trying to not focus on the fact that he’s not alone right now. Just a few breaths later, a wave of Chuuya's partially undigested dinner comes pouring out of his mouth. Chuuya coughs and gags through it, eyes screwed shut.

“There ya go,” Albatross says.

He leans over the puddle that’s started to pool in his sheets, hoping that anything else will make an appearance quickly so he doesn’t have to struggle much longer. He burps a few times in some effort to get more up, and one particularly wet belch brings up another wave of pale vomit, followed by a pained whimper.

From there, his stomach calms down just a bit. He still feels nauseous, but not enough to puke again, at least for the time being. He doesn’t remember it hurting this much last night, but maybe he’s already sore from that incident.

He groans, wishing he could just melt into the mattress and disappear. He really doesn’t feel good. He’s glad his fevered middle-of-the-night brain made the right call and decided to not come to work.

"You're gonna have to let me call somebody to bring you some meds," Albatross says as he slides the soiled sheet off of Chuuya’s bed, clearing him to lie back down. "I don't have nothin’ and I doubt you do either."

"Fine," he murmurs quietly, curling in on himself and taking that same pillow from before to hold against his aching stomach. The pressure does help a little bit.

“You got extra comforters anywhere?” Albatross asks, and Chuuya barely manages to lift up an arm to point toward a closet at the corner of the room, where Albatross wastes no time in finding something to cover Chuuya with. He feels a shiver take over his body even after Albatross lays the comforter over him. The last thing he needs is to deal with the chills.

Evidently, though, throwing up tired him out so much that he starts to fall asleep before he can further agonize about his situation.

…

"Special delivery!" Chuuya hears. He doesn’t pay much attention to who it could be at first, but it’s not Albatross. It’s further away, far from his bedroom door. He groans, wishing he had stayed asleep. 

It's Pianoman's voice, he thinks. He starts to tense up at the realization that someone else is here now, and his stomach starts to cramp again. He's gotten used to Albatross seeing him ill, but now he's going to have to be okay with others, too.

He decides his best course of action is to pretend to be asleep, not that it will be too difficult. He’s starting to realize he feels worse than before. His stomach hurts from the nausea but the soreness too, and his head swims and spins at the slightest movement.

He hears their footsteps come closer. There’s a third set, too, so it’s not just Pianoman. He curls up tighter in the center of his bed with a pained groan, tucking his face back under a pillow. Go home, he wants to tell them. He’s fine. He just needs to sleep it off. He doesn’t want anyone’s help.

"I think he's asleep. I'll give it to him when he wakes up," Albatross says quietly right outside the bedroom door, and Chuuya sighs in relief, thinking he’s avoided a crisis for now.

He wonders what time it is. It seems Albatross has pulled down the blinds, so any sunlight to tell him the time of day is blocked out. He’s tempted to get up and see, or at least reach over to grab his cell phone, but he really doesn’t even have the energy to do that.

He lies still for a few moments, but with the way his stomach is turning, he’s not sure if he’ll be able to fall asleep any time soon. He’s hungry, but too nauseous to even think about food. That’s the worst kind of feeling.

"Hey. I know you're awake, Chuuya," Pianoman says, his voice suddenly beyond Chuuya’s bedroom door. His voice is gentle, not accusatory, so Chuuya doesn’t feel as anxious - but he still doesn’t want anyone to see him. "I think it'd be better if you took this medicine sooner rather than later with how you're feeling."

Chuuya doesn’t move. Maybe he can trick Pianoman, but he quickly realizes that’s a foolish thought. He couldn’t ever trick Pianoman.

He hears a plastic bag rustle, and Pianoman sits on Chuuya’s king mattress. “I have some nausea medicine for you too. Albatross told me your stomach’s been bothering you.”

Chuuya doesn’t like that Pianoman knows about that, but at this point, he would rather get his nausea under control than worry about his image. He begrudgingly turns over so that Pianoman knows he’s not hiding anymore. When their eyes meet, he watches Pianoman’s brow furrow.

“I know I look like shit,” Chuuya mumbles, surprised at how hoarse his voice sounds. He hasn’t been coughing all that much.

“I wonder how you caught this,” Pianoman says, taking three medicine bottles out and setting them down on Chuuya’s nightstand, along with two cups of water that he apparently brought with him. “Two of these are liquid, sorry. But they tend to work better, I’ve noticed.”

Chuuya doesn’t care much, as long as they’ll help. He forces himself up, and Pianoman reaches out an arm to help him - the touch makes Chuuya freeze up. “Relax. I’m just trying to help.”

Chuuya groans and lets him. Pianoman props up a few of his pillows at the headrest and helps Chuuya lean against that, that way he’s sitting up but still comfortable, and he’s grateful for Pianoman’s thoughtfulness, but he keeps his eyes low. He’s hoping that avoiding eye contact will make him forget about this faster.

“I feel like this one always gives me awful nightmares,” Pianoman says with a huff as he hands Chuuya a cup of medicine, which he takes like a shot with no issue. The taste is artificial fruit and bitter, but if he imagines it’s more like alcohol, it’s not as unbearable. "Do you get nightmares?"

"No," Chuuya murmurs. "I don't dream at all."

"I thought I heard you say that before. Might be a good thing, then. A lot of people get bad nightmares when they have fevers like you do, even without medicine," Pianoman says. "Lippmann does."

That seems like an intimate detail to know about someone, especially to share with others, but he doesn't say anything.

“We’ve all seen each other sick. You don’t need to hide from us,” Pianoman assures him. Chuuya realizes that’s the point he was trying to make, but he still can’t meet his gaze. He just takes the next cup of medicine and downs it, but this time, his stomach twists. This one tastes much worse. He thinks this one might make him vomit even if he wasn’t ill. He presses a hand up to his mouth and Pianoman is quick enough to recognize the situation - he’s holding a trash bin under Chuuya’s chin, allowing him to choke up the medicine he just swallowed, that never had a chance of staying down at all.

His stomach still tries to get more up, even though he’s sure that the only thing left in his system was the medicine he just swallowed. The way his abdominal muscles squeeze together against his sore stomach hurts so much he can hardly take it. He’s ashamed. He’s dealt with injuries far worse than a little stomachache, but this hurts so bad that tears prick at his eyes.

"It's okay. I know it hurts," he tells him gently, tucking Chuuya’s hair behind his ears as it threatens to get caught in the saliva that’s starting to form strings from his mouth. "You don't have to hold back your tears for any of us, Chuuya."

“But, I…” he starts, cut off by a pained groan. He spits up the salvia that’s gathered in his mouth.

“I know. Your whole body’s sensitive right now ‘cause of that fever you’re running. And throwing up with nothing in your stomach hurts. Trust me, I know,” Pianoman tells him. “I don’t blame you at all.”

Chuuya lets his tears fall, and he whimpers from the pain he’s in.

He seems to only get worse from there. He doesn’t have enough energy to hold himself up properly anymore, even with the propped-up pillows, so once he thinks he’s done gagging, Pianoman helps him lie back down. He can’t stop his tears, they darken spots on his pillow. He feels so sick. He wishes he could just fall asleep again. He doesn’t want anyone to see him.

He quickly finds out Lippman was the third person who entered his apartment, and the concern taking over his face as soon as he sees Chuuya from the doorway is too much for him to handle. He can’t imagine how awful he must look, especially now that he’s been crying. He’s so pathetic.

“Albatross, that’s far too wet to put on his forehead. You need to wring some of that water out,” he hears Lippmann say after Chuuya stuffs his face back into a pillow to avoid being seen. “Here, let me see it.”

“Always stealin’ my thunder, huh, Lippmann…” Albatross says, clicking his tongue.

“This isn’t thunder. This is a monsoon,” he says, supposedly waving the soaked cloth around.

Soon enough, he feels a hand gently turn his head so he’s looking at the ceiling, and Lippmann lays a cool, folded washcloth over Chuuya’s forehead. It feels incredible. For just a second, he feels like he’s cured, but of course, it’s never that easy. He lets his eyes fall shut and tries to take the opportunity to relax.

Lippmann smooths down Chuuya's hair, something he would normally be greatly opposed to but it feels nice. Lippmann's hands are always ice cold. He thinks Lippmann is sitting beside him on the bed, which for some reason, he’s not opposed to. He’s trying to relax. Every breath makes him more sore. He groans from the pain and turns his head to the side, only to be turned back up by Lippmann.

"I called Doc. He should be on his way soon," Pianoman says as he enters the room. Chuuya didn’t even realize he was gone. "Definitely wouldn't hurt to get some IV fluids in you. I'm sure you're dehydrated."

"Poor thing," Lippman says with a sigh, a hand of his on Chuuya’s clammy cheek. "Let me see a thermometer, Piano. He feels much warmer."

“I couldn’t find one earlier,” Pianoman says. “I told Albatross to go look at his place. Let me go make sure he still remembers what I asked him to do.”

Pianoman disappears again too, but Lippmann stays, still smoothing down Chuuya’s hair. He tries to shift himself onto his side to get more comfortable, and he realizes just how much sweat is covering his body. The hair framing his face feels like it’s stuck to his skin.

Chuuya hears his phone buzz in the nightstand. It’s a buzz different from the normal notifications, because it’s Dazai. That son of a bitch gets his own special one.

“Lippmann?” Chuuya croaks, his eyes barely about to make it up to his face. “Can you…can you hand me my phone?”

“Of course. In the nightstand here?” Lippmann confirms and Chuuya manages a nod. He gently hands him the phone.

Chuuya’s eyes take a few seconds longer than normal to adjust to its brightness, and Lippmann briefly leans over to turn it down for him while he’s still getting used to it. He groans when he sees the message on the screen, and he replies almost right away without thinking much of it.

He sees Dazai open the message, but to his surprise, he doesn’t get a reply. He groans. Why on earth would Dazai message him anyway? Why does it matter to him where he is?

“Is this the Boss’s kid you’re texting?” Lippmann asks, his head tilted. Lippmann knows that Dazai isn’t actually Mori’s son, but that's what the Flags call Dazai.

Chuuya just groans and nods. He closes his phone for a moment. Half of him just wants to block Dazai’s number, even though in his defense, he’s just asking a rather innocent question.

“I saw him very early this morning on my way to meet with the Boss. He asked me where you were. That was before Albatross called us,” Lippmann says. “It doesn’t hurt to tell him. Maybe that way he won’t bother you, if that’s what you want.”

Chuuya huffs. He’s not sure how he feels about Lippmann’s claim that Dazai would ask where he is. Would he even really care? Chuuya doesn’t think so, but it’s strange that Dazai would ask Lippmann that, and even directly text Chuuya on top of it.

He groans again, long and annoyed, before he opens his phone to send another message.

He lets his phone slip from his hands, and Lippmann takes it and puts it back in the drawer for him - and it’s not long until he hears the others come back too.

Chuuya really doesn’t feel well.

He can’t rely much on his senses at the moment. He feels himself cough every now and then, but it almost feels numb, like his body forces him to do it. The last thing he can clearly hear from any of them is his temperature - a hundred and three point one, only because Lippmann makes it a point to make sure Chuuya can hear him. Chuuya never measured his fever to begin with, but he know it wasn’t that high. That’s not good.

It feels as if he only shuts his eyes for a moment, but when he opens them again, Doc has entered his field of vision. It looks like he’s talking to someone else, but he can't hear anything.

He feels someone tugging on his arm, and another smoothing down his hair. He’s not entirely sure what’s going on. He feels his chest tighten up and he wants to get away. His body tenses up and he’s waiting for Doc to leave an opening for Chuuya to get away, but he doesn’t. He turns his head and makes eye contact with Chuuya, and smiles. Doc kind of has a creepy smile, and it’s difficult to tell if it’s genuine most of the time, but Chuuya finds this one reassuring. He relaxes.

No one here is going to hurt him. He’s safe with them.

…

When Chuuya wakes up again, he feels like a new person.

His ears feel clear. He can hear the mattress when he shifts his weight, something he would never imagine being grateful to hear. He hears someone else breathing, and somehow, he has the energy to push himself up.

Doc is leaned against the wall in a chair from Chuuya’s kitchen. Reading from some impossibly large textbook that Chuuya almost thinks must be too heavy for his frail arms, he doesn’t notice Chuuya’s movements, or he at least doesn’t acknowledge them.

Chuuya sneaks a hand into the drawer beside his nightstand to fish out his phone to check the time, and he sees a message from Dazai.

Chuuya wasn't expecting a sort-of-nice message from him. He almost thinks for a moment this isn’t really Dazai, but he’s distracted by movement from Doc.

“Heheh…good morning, Chuuya,” he says, lowering the textbook down to the floor. Chuuya knows it’s not really morning, now, his phone said something close to seven in the evening, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Doc was being serious. He doesn’t strike him as the kind of guy to have a good sleep schedule.

Doc stands up and drags the chair behind him over to Chuuya’s bedside, and Chuuya moves closer to the edge, assuming Doc’s intention is to check him over. Chuuya doesn’t want to make him stand, he knows he can’t do that for very long. Chuuya’s eyes follow Doc’s IV line up to a pole that’s standing beside Chuuya’s bed, with an extra bag of fluids on a line extending down to Chuuya’s forearm.

“We’re matching,” Doc says with his usual off-putting smile, meeting Chuuya’s gaze. Chuuya’s never asked him why he always has that thing, but maybe he’s more content with not knowing.

“Guess that thing’s kinda handy,” Chuuya says as he lays back. His voice is still pretty hoarse. He tries to clear it, and Doc offers him a glass of water that’s been on his nightstand. He starts to wonder where the others have run off to, and the door opens, revealing the missing Flag.

"You look a little better now," Iceman says to him as he walks over. Doc doesn’t turn his head, so Chuuya assumes he’s known that Iceman has been here. "Compared to what I saw when I got here."

"Where is everyone?" Chuuya asks before Doc slides a thermometer under his tongue.

"Passed out in your living room,” Iceman says bluntly.

“Albatross sent us all a photo of Lippmann and Pianoman sleeping together, heh,” Doc recalls with an amused grin before he takes the thermometer back.

“In my apartment? Ew,” Chuuya groans. “What’s it say?”

Doc had already laid the thermometer down on the table, and he leans over to refer back to it to answer Chuuya’s question. “One hundred point seven. Much better than earlier.”

Chuuya’s relieved to hear that. He was really worrying this was something he was going to be suffering from all weak, but Doc seems to have worked his magic on him. Chuuya wished he had given in to calling him over sooner.

“We already notified everyone who needed to know that you’ll be off tomorrow, too.” Iceman tells him, wandering over to the window to open up the blinds and let some of the evening light in. Another one had already been opened up.

“Tomorrow? No way, I’ll be fine by then,” Chuuya grumbles, looking over to Doc for backup.

“I don’t recommend it. Unless you’re fond of fainting on the job,” Doc says, shrugging his shoulders.

“Just one extra day to get your energy back. You’ll live,” Iceman says. “You should take any days off you can get, Chuuya. Take it from us.”

Maybe if they’re all here, it won’t be so bad.

“I’m putting an injection into your fluid line here…might make you tired…” Doc says, pushing a syringe full of a clear substance into the line, and Chuuya feels the effects almost right away.

“Just don’t go anywhere…” Chuuya murmurs as his eyes start to fall shut. His mouth betrayed him by admitting thoughts he didn’t want to share with the room, but he sees faint smiles from both of them before he loses his battle with the drowsiness.

…

"You finally up?"

Chuuya wasn't expecting to hear Dazai's voice.

He forces himself to sit up, and he's in a different bedroom. He’s done so far too quickly, it seems, because his head swims and tilts his world sideways so much that he nearly faints, but he forces himself to stay upright on the bed.

Dazai is standing right at the end of it. He looks perplexed, and Chuuya can’t figure out why, but Chuuya’s even more confused. Dazai looks different. His eyes don't look so dark. He looks taller, somehow. He’s not wearing his usual getup. He’s wearing a bolo tie. Why the hell is he wearing a bolo tie?

"Where's…" Chuuya murmurs. He can’t quite remember what he was going to say.

"Where's who? It's just me here," Dazai says, the confusion in his eyes only deepening as he makes his way over to the side of the bed.

Chuuya's stomach drops. He doesn't understand what's going on.

"Hey, hey. What are you so worked up about?" Dazai asks him, and the tiny hint of concern in his nonchalant attitude is freaking him out. Dazai hadn’t texted him that he was coming over. Why is he here? Why would he show up?

"I was just…I just, um…" Chuuya starts mumbling as he scrambles to get to the edge of the bed he’s on, "they were all here. You were at…they…"

"Bad dream?" Dazai says, a hesitant hand reaching out towards Chuuya’s. That’s not like him. Why is he so confused?

"What…?" Chuuya starts, just then registering Dazai’s words. That's not possible. Chuuya doesn't dream. He's never had a dream. Chuuya swings his legs over the edge of the bed and stands up despite his head’s protests, and he’s relieved to see Doc’s face, back where he was, leaned against the wall.

But he hears blood dripping.

And when he lowers his gaze, just a bit, it seems his brain omitted the fact that the lower half of Doc’s body is missing. There’s nothing below his torso, nothing but a growing pool of blood.

Chuuya screams.

…

"You blacked out on me again," Dazai says. His voice is gentle, as Chuuya wakes up again, once again in a different room. It feels more familiar this time. He’s in a living room, and he thinks it’s his. “Your fever’s worse. I took you out here, it’s kinda warm in your bedroom.”

"Sorry," he mumbles. He can't muster up energy for much else. His body aches. He looks for any signs of the Flags. The IV pole. Lippmann’s hand on his forehead. The medication Pianoman brought home for him. None of it is there.

Was any of that real? Was he hallucinating? It’s happened before, when he gets high fevers, but this one felt so real. It was almost like he just experienced it, in real life, and then suddenly he fell asleep for several years - and now he’s back in the present.

Was it a dream?

"I wanna go ride," Chuuya murmurs. Dazai’s hand is on his cheek. He pulls it away and sits back on the coffee table, that same look of confusion taking over his face again.

"Your bike?" Dazai asks.

"Uh-huh," he says.

"No-can-do, buddy. You can barely stand up," Dazai reminds him with a half-smile, hints of concern still visible.

Chuuya’s head turns in his direction. His chest feels tight. "'S not my bike."

Dazai still looks confused. "Yeah?"

"'S Albatross's bike," Chuuya barely manages. He still feels his cold hand in his. He knows they’re all dead, it’s beyond him why he thought just a few moments ago that they were all still in his apartment. It takes everything in Chuuya to keep himself together.

"I know, Chuuya." Dazai murmurs, his expression falling. “What’s up with you today?”

Chuuya’s eyes start to flood with tears, only furthering Dazai’s concern. He kneels beside the couch and Chuuya tries to sit himself up, only melting into Dazai’s arms in his attempt to get up. Everything hurts. He doesn’t know why he’s so overcome with emotion. Maybe he’s just sensitive right now because of his apparent illness, but the feelings he holds are real.

Dazai’s trying to comfort him, but Chuuya can’t hear his words. He holds him close. It’s incredibly rare for him to be so sympathetic. He must know something isn’t quite right with Chuuya right now.

If it really was a dream, he wants nothing more than to go back.

…

“We can go visit their graves when you feel better. If you want to,” Dazai offers, sort of out of nowhere. Chuuya’s been silently curled up in his bed for a few hours. Dazai offering him water and bites of food he can hardly stomach every now and then, making sure he takes medication.

“It’s raining,” Chuuya murmurs. He’s mindlessly scrolling through old messages from his friends, on a cellphone he hasn’t touched since they were killed. His heart hurts. He doesn’t have the will to get up.

“Hopefully it stops once you’re up for it,” Dazai says, reaching forward to brush some of Chuuya’s unruly bangs from his eyes.

Chuuya sees a rare photo in their message thread. A picture of Lippmann and Pianoman sleeping together on his old couch from an apartment he used to live in, followed by them in the same position, but this time, in selfie form courtesy of Albatross. It’s a photo that feels familiar, but he can’t remember why. Maybe they were drunk. Maybe he never came across this photo until now. But for some reason, it’s comforting to see.

“Yeah,” Chuuya mumbles, his eyes floating up to Dazai. “Let’s go.”

“Alright. Just let me know whenever you’re up for it,” Dazai tells him.

Chuuya’s still staring at the photo.

#i cant decide whos my fav #i really like doc and albatross #but i think everybody loves albatross right LOL he's everyone's guy #ugh my poor sweet chuuya #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #illness #bsd #sick #sickfic #my fanfictions #vomiting #emeto #fever #ao3 #fanfic #fanfiction #chuuya #dazai #albatross #doc #pianoman #lippmann #iceman #flu #high fever #hurt/comfort #skk #soukoku

[littledreamling]

Excerpt from In Sickness and In Health, my upcoming sickfic:

“Will you help me?”

“Of course,” Dream replied easily. Hob made a vague noise, deep in his throat, and let his forehead fall forward to bonk gently against Dream’s shoulder as if the mere whisper of effort was overwhelming. Dream had to admit, he had never succumbed to human illness—maybe it truly was overwhelming. The sight of his love, trembling and miserable, made his entire chest ache and he gave in to the impulse to press a gentle kiss into Hob’s hair.

“What can I do to help?” He prompted, as soft as the feather-fall of his own realm. Gentleness, softness, comfort; these were his purview, tools he wielded as easily as his helm and sand. He took pleasure in wrapping his partner in these tools as often as possible, weaving warmth and contentment from the fibre of his being, the essence of himself that made him Dream, the essence of himself that made him an Endless. The urge, usually a comfortable rush under his skin, transformed to a torrent in the face of the smile, small and shaky but undoubtedly there, that Hob bestowed upon him then. It scared him, sometimes, what he would do for that smile and the trust and love that it carried.

It’s full of softness and fluff (with a surprise cameo at the end!) and the perfect balm for anyone torn apart by the angst of The Wrong Name! Featuring sick Hob Gadling, worried (and slightly jealous) Dream, showering together, and enough sweet fluffiness to be mistaken for a mountain of cotton candy at a glance.

It will probably be uploaded tomorrow night (EST) so if anyone wants to be tagged when it drops, let me know!

Edit: it can now be read here!

#my writing #my fic wip #shameless self plug #dream of the endless #morpheus #hob gadling #dreamling #the sandman #sandman netflix #sickfic #fluff and comfort #tooth rotting fluff #im serious this is pure sweetness #with just a touch of angst at the very beginning

[soft-for-yoongi]

Hii! I hope you’re doing well. I just had this idea for a JK sick scenario. What about JK being in a concert and he gets kicked in the stomach in one of their dances but to not worry the others he continues with the concert. Then, the pain starts progressively getting worse through the concert and in one of their breaks, he throws up and starts feeling dizzy but reassures the others that he is fine. He finishes the concert in pain, nauseous and feeling really poor. Then, maybe when they’re changing they notice that he has a big bruise on his abdomen. He faints and gets rushed to the hospital where they find out that he was hit so hard that he was bleeding internally?

Idk if you’re taking requests but i thought I’d shared this with you in case you wanted inspiration or to take the story

ON Accident (sick JK)

--------------------------------

Sick: Jungkook

Caretakers: ot7

Word count: 1538

Tw: emeto, vom*****, dizziness, nausea, stomach pain

(Taehyung accidently kicks Jungkook in the stomach, hard enough to form a bruise, make him super nauseous and give him stomach pains)

Side note: I didn't include the internal bleeding nor the hospital just because I try stay away from the severe injuries/illnesses!! I hope you don't mind x

Thank you for the idea, anon!!! <3

--------------------------------

It was halfway during ON, their concert was going so well and all of them were having a blast and Army was screaming and cheering, having the time of their lives. Everything was going smooth until..

Wack

A foot straight into Jungkook's stomach, making him suck in a sharp breath and stumble over the harsh choreography of the song. Jungkook registers that it was Taehyung and holds no grudge, Taehyung's definitely noticed what he did and is already looking guilty. Jungkook feels the lingering pain, still not died off as he dances like nothing happened. His middle aches and sharp pains make it immensely harder to keep a straight face.

He definitely got winded, his stomach area hurts as he moves, a pulsating feeling making him struggle to hit notes. Jungkook makes eye contact with Hoseok but instead of a stern look, it's one of concern.

They finish up the song, arms around each other, back facing the crowd. Jungkook hangs his head low, unable to hold back the grimace.

"Jungkook-ah!! I'm so sorry–I didn't mean to kick you. I'm sorry, does it hurt still? What am I talking about of course it hurts—please forgive me, I'm sorry-" Taehyung rambles the second they get backstage. He doesn't notice the way Jungkook's got a hand over his mouth, stomach threatening to appear.

"Hey, Taehyung-ah. Calm down, what's happend? Are you okay, Jungkook-ah?" Namjoon asks, a hand on both of the youngest' shoulders. The other members have gathered around, all in various states of worry.

Jungkook's ears ring over the sheer volume of fans and his stomach is still aching, making him nauseous and dizzy. "I-I accidentally kicked Jungkookie during ON...." Taehyung mutters, looking at the maknae for signs of anger. "I-It's okay Taetae... I'm just– feeling a little sick." Jungkook replies, attempting a smile but it ends in a retch.

All colour drains from the maknae's face and Yoongi scrambles to get something under his chin. There's chaos between staff members and Taehyung's almost crying, Namjoon is trying to come up with a logical way to handle the situation and Jimin, Hoseok and Seokjin are all trying to comfort the youngest.

Jungkook heaves into a plastic bag, dropping to a squat when standing is too hard. "Come on Kookie—let's sit you down." Seokjin and Jimin usher Jungkook into a chair, Taehyung is clinging onto the 94' liners and Yoongi holds the bag when Jungkook's grip gets too shaky. Jungkook vomits and clutches his middle.

The poor thing gets pained with another grating heave, swaying forward and his head almost submerged into the bag, streams exiting his mouth like a tap. Seokjin is palming small, fast circles between the youngest' shoulders and Jimin keeps the hair out the way.

"Joonie-h-hyung I d-didn't mean to—" Taehyung sobs, wiping his tears away and trying to compose himself. "Hey, shhh love. We know you didn't and Kookie knows too. He's strong Taetae and it was an accident." The leader smiles, petting Taehyung's hair. "Joonie is right, aghi. You don't need to cry, we know you feel bad but Kookie is going to be okay." Hoseok coos, pulling Taehyung into a warm hug.

Jungkook sneaks a look at Taehyung, sandwiched between Namjoon and Hoseok. They make eye contact and Jungkook sends him a thumbs up and a small smile, hoping to reassure the boy. Jungkook feels the nausea lessen a little and swallows down the last hints of puke trying to come up.

"I'm okay..!" Jungkook gets out, sitting up straight and closing his eyes. "Jungkook—" Seokjin starts, "no, hyung. I'm okay, don't worry." Jungkook interrupts. Jimin looks at Yoongi worriedly, the maknae isn't in a condition to dance.

"40 seconds left!!" A staff member calls out. Well fuck. They're going to have to take Jungkook's word and hope for the best.

----

Jungkook sure is one lucky ducky. They don't know how he does it but he manages to work through and dance to three more songs, end speeches and good byes to Army. They truly don't know how.

Jungkook does know however, that he feels like shit. Shit with a capital S and exclamation mark. He managed to ignore the pulsing pain and the presence of nausea for most of the time. He focused on dancing and putting on a good show for Army. But, of course he can't ignore it forever and the second they get backstage and the concert is over, Jungkook keeps a hand to his middle and flops onto the nearest couch.

"Jungkook! Hey, are you okay?" Taehyung asks, already on the boy's tail and still feeling guilty to the core. "Yeah— I'll be okay." Jungkook chokes out, a make-up artist is removing his makeup and somebody takes him to their change rooms. He meets the rest of the members in there and from the looks of it, they were talking about Jungkook, as they all go quiet when he walks in.

"Are you alright, kid?" Yoongi asks, the other members are undressing swiftly because they can all tell that Jungkook is eager to get home. Jungkook feels his heart clench. He can't resist opening up to the eldest rapper. Jungkook shakes his head weakly, glad they're free of staff to give them privacy. "Y-Yoongi-hyung..." Jungkook whimpers, a hand to his middle and the other making grabby hands for the older.

Yoongi steps forward to Jungkook and holds him at the waist. "Is your stomach hurting still?" Yoongi places a hand over Jungkook's that's glued to his stomach. Jungkook nods repeatedly and Taehyung somehow manages to feel even more guilty than he already was. "Can I see, Kook-ah?" Yoongi hesitates before lifting the edge of the maknae's shirt ever so slightly. After getting a nod, Yoongi lifts Jungkook's top to reveal a bruise right in the middle of the boy's poor stomach. The other members give a quiet gasp and Seokjin mutters a worried comment under his breath.

Jungkook wants to cover it up instinctively but Hoseok has gravitated over and gently takes his hand, giving it a massage. Yoongi softly touches the bruise, apparently pressing a little too hard, "o-ow—hyung that hurts." Jungkook moans, god he's starting to feel sick again. "Sorry, Kook. That's one heck of a bruise you got," Yoongi comments. Seokjin is eyeing Jungkook's complexion and takes the pale pallor as a hint to grab a plastic bag in case.

"Here, Jungkookie. How about you rest on the couch?" Hoseok advises, guiding the maknae to sit down before he falls over. Namjoon eyes Seokjin wearily. When Jungkook sits down there's silence until his stomach gives a menacing gurgle and he brings a fist to his mouth. "Feeling sick again, love?" Seokjin walks over and kneels in front of the youngest, bag at the ready.

A gut wrenching heave makes Jungkook grab for the bag and shove his face in it. Seokjin's eyebrows raise in alarm but he starts to rub the boy's back to offer some comfort. Taehyung is being comforted by Jimin, although both of them are worried shitless about their yongest brother.

"Try to breathe, Kookie." Seokjin coos, Yoongi is working to hold back Jungkook's hair and Namjoon is racking his brain for an idea on when Jungkook is going to start feeling better. Hoseok is feeling a little squimish so instead he tries to comfort the 95's.

Jungkook feels his middle clench and coughs up a wave of puke. His hands shake as he holds the bag and a wet burp drags up his throat. Another torrent forces its way out and Jungkook holds back a whimper. He coughs and coughs, Seokjin pats his back and Yoongi strokes his hair. "Calm down, bun. You don't want to hurt yourself." Seokjin worries.

Namjoon makes sure their car is ready so they can leave as soon as possible and Hoseok gathers some comfy clothes Jungkook can change into, given skinny jeans and his stage outfit isn't the comfiest. Jungkook takes a few shaky breaths, calming himself down. "Please, c-can we go home, h-hyungies?" Jungkook looks up at them all, eyes glistening.

"Of course, Kookie. Are you feeling less icky now?" Seokjin croons, gaining a small nod. "Taehyung, do you mind helping him change?" Seokjin looks over at the second youngest. Even though Jungkook has forgiven him, the two should spend some time with each other. "Is that okay, Jungkookie?" Taehyung asks, he'd love nothing more than to make it up to Jungkook.

Jungkook nods vigorously, already missing his bubbly, happy Taehyungie-hyung. Jimin taps Taehyung on the butt before he makes his way over to Jungkook. Taehyung and Seokjin help the boy up, while Yoongi takes the puke bag. When Jungkook is upright, the maknae smuggles Taehyung in an embrace, taking him by surprise. "I don't like seeing you sad, T-Taehyungie-hyung.." Jungkook mutters quietly.

Taehyung smiles, quick to hug back but still being mindful of Jungkook's stomach. "I know, I'm sorry Jungkookie... you know I didn't mean to, right?" Taehyung replies, "Of course, hyungie. I forgive you." Jungkook smiles. "Thank you, Kookie. Now let's get changed and go home, huh?" Taehyung smirks.

#soft-for-yoongi writes #jungkook #bts #bts!sickfic #bangtan #emeto #emeto fic #sick #sick!jungkook #caring!bts #taehyung is sweet #comfort #vomit mention #vomiting

[pinkykats-place]

BakuDeku Sickfics ft. sick!Midoriya

UA Students

AO3 Fanfic Recommendations

Disclaimers!

None of the stories linked below are mine.

Most are SFW … please still check tags.

Credit to @julpux for the artwork.

Note: If you read any of these stories and like them please let the author know with a kudos and/or comment!

hold me till i feel better by leahistyping

Summary: He never knew it’d hurt so much to be so Izukuless. The damn nerd was always chasing after him, whether he wanted him to or not. But he was always there, even if Katsuki pushed him away again and again.

— — —

After Izuku returns to UA, he gets a fever. But luckily for him, Katsuki’s there to help him.

One Shot | SFW

Somethings Never Change by Quirkyasfok

Summary: Deku was just quiet. Stupid Deku was never quiet. Something had to be wrong.

or that one fic where Bakugou cares even though he probably wishes he didn't.

One Shot | SFW

Izuku’s Stupid (Katsuki Loves Him) by The_Coolest_Cucumber06

Summary: Izuku got sick from being practically attached to Katsuki while he was sick. Katsuki’s not impressed, but he is in love and they both know it. Now Katsuki gets a turn to be doting and loving and to take care of him, but he makes sure to remind him how much of a dumbass move it was.

One Shot | SFW

Force of Habit by dynamics

Summary: Katsuki’s plenty used to the practically weekly occurrence of Izuku being in the hospital for life-threatening injuries, because he’s a reckless idiot. But when Izuku is bedridden for a week with the flu of all things? Well, that’s a different story.

One Shot | SFW | Third Years

i don't want no other heart to ever hold me by acheybones

Summary: Katsuki was what some people would call an ass. Well, what most people would call an ass.

— — —

or, Katsuki is only soft with Izuku, and that's how he likes it.

Complete | 2 Chapters | SFW

Lovesick by Ciruelaa

Summary: There weren’t many curveballs left that Izuku would expect life to throw at him.

A fever-induced confession he’s been trying to muster the nerve for since preschool? Cross it off the list, I guess.

In which Izuku gets sick and Katsuki is there for him. (Always).

Complete | 2 Chapters | SFW

In Sickness and In Health by s_the_queen

Summary: Deku gets hit by a quirk on patrol during his work study. It makes him sick and when he gets back to the dorm, Aizawa asks someone to volunteer to check in on him for a few days while he recovers.

Before anyone else can open their mouths, Bakugou volunteers.

Complete | 5 Chapters

Rated - Teen & Up

Hot Stuff by SashaDistan

Summary: Deku has a fever – which is fine, Katsuki can take care of him – only when Deku gets ill, he also gets horny.

{One Shot}

Rated - Explicit

#bakudeku #sickfic #sick midoriya #sick deku #ao3 fic rec #bkdk fic rec #ua students bakudeku #bakudeku fluff #sweet bakugo #bkdk ao3 #archive of our own bakudeku #bakudeku recommendations #ao3 sickfic #bakudeku sick fics #ua students #midoriya is sick #deku x bakugo #bakugou katsuki x midoriya izuku #third year bakudeku #first year bakudeku #sick!deku #sick!midoriya #bakugo takes care of deku #fic recs #bkdk #fanfic recommendation #bakugou x midoriya #ao3 bkdk #bakudeku fic rec #ao3 bakudeku recs

[te-amozevris]

Flufftober Day 8- Rain Day 11-Sweet tooth!

@flufftober

It had been rainy this week, and maybe because of the erratic weather change Fenris had got ill and developed a fever again. Donnic and Zev were out of Kirkwall doing some shopping. When Fen had been feeling better he had a craving for red grapes. Sadly the markets here were fresh out, and the men set out on their ‘quest’ for exotic-foods shopping haha!

We had been taking turns (with Anders, Beth and our helpers) to care for the sick warrior. Was my turn today, and I loved wringing the water from the cloth and sponging Fenris. He could relax more when a familiar person was close by. I had run back after finishing lessons early. My best friend was quite deeply asleep, relaxed, his lyrium marks gently humming and glowing. His skin was back to normal tan, with flushed cheeks. No shirt, he had just felt too hot last night.

Gently I put the rag on his forehead and touched the side of his warm neck. His hands were tucked over the scarlet blankets, hiding his legs. Fenris shivered. Somehow I hadn’t wrung out all the moisture, droplets trickled and rained over his lashes and cheek. Elf looked like he was crying.

Fen furrowed his brow, mumbling: rain- go away… and something in his tongue. “Oops sorry,” I got a dry kerchief to dab off the excess water, and turned to the bowl on the side table. I fervently hoped my dear friend would be feeling stronger soon.

Before the rains, Fenris had been sitting up reading, chatting with us sometimes and taking baths. Not eating much but he was at least able to eat 2 small meals. Bethany and the healers’ team were still checking his results if this could be a lapse of the lyrium-fever Fenris had gotten before, last year.

That’d be horrible, it had taken him months of recuperating from the sheer exhaustion. Deep in my head, I didn’t realise elf was awake until his voice rumbled, “It’s you, mi carrisime soror.” I forgot what those tevene meant but he sounded loving and affectionate. His eyes were small slits of sleepy green, and he stirred yawning, one hand wiping the sheen off his face.

“Hihi elf Fennie! Are you all right? Better?” I blurted, too excited to weep but my eyes stung and my throat closed. Fen pushed off the blankets, and turned to his side to face me. We held hands. He beamed.

“Hm almost sniffed water into my nose. Really wet.” I chuckled, comforted by his dry tone. He bade me to sit, his eyes falling close.

“Achy, weak but more… alive. Thank you. How—long have I been in bed?” I patted his callused hand.

#flufftober2023 #day8 rainyday #day11 sweet tooth #dragonage #fenris #myfanfic #sickfic #elves

[cyb3r-st4t]

Sicktember, Day Seven:

You’re a Jerk When You’re Sick.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Warnings: This is a Sickfic, if that’s of no interest to you, DNI!! This Fic contains nothing more than a bit of sass and mentions of being sick for a continuous amount of time. Keep yourselves safe, let me know if I miss anything!

Characters: Scaramouche and Kazuha.

POV: Scara refuses Kazuha’s assistance… Kazuha isn’t having it…

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Having stayed in the past few nights, Kazuha was helping Scara deal with something he never had before.

An irritating thing of all.

Illness.

Currently laid in bed curled into fetal position, Scara laid there as he watched the TV as it played in front of him.

Kazuha opened the bedroom door to see him still awake, and tilted his head in a bit of confusion.

“Couldn’t fall asleep?” He asked.

Scara averted his eyes from the TV, and nodded.

“Yep.” He mumbled.

Kazuha frowned.

“I can get you some more medicine if you think that would help, specifically sleep medicine.” He suggested, placing a hand on the door handle as he readied himself to leave again.

“No. It’s fine.” Scara mumbled again, sighed and shaking his head soon after.

“Oh come on, it might be nice to try?”

“I said it’s fine. Jeez.” Scara snapped.

Kazuha narrowed his eyebrows before shaking his head himself.

“I’m just trying to help you, it would be nice if you would cooperate.” He mentioned, leaning himself against the door frame as he crossed his arms.

“Yeah, yeah. I can manage this on my own you know.” Scara replied.

“You wouldn’t have said that last night.” Kazuha brought up, slight sass behind his tone. “Now, how about the medicine?”

Scara glared at him for a few, long, silent seconds…

“…whatever.”

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#short and sweet :) #cyb.stat fics #cyb.stat bleh… #sicktember #sicktember day seven #sc//ara #kaz//uha #kazu//scara #sickfic #cyb.stat sickfics #gen//shin im//pact #gen//shin sickfic #gen//shin #gen//shin imp//act #gen//shin fic

[ichilemonwritruoo]

Hikari Twins Sickfic

Disclaimer: I am emetophobic and part of my therapy to help me heal is writing about throwing up and what I believe is the proper response to help me get out of my head. That type of illness is the focus of this story, its not in depth but it does happens so please be mindful. Scene begins under the cut. Thanks <3

"How are you feeling Nii-San?" Netto asked as he sat down on the bed.

"I'm okay." Saito yawned. "I'm a little tired."

"Take a nap! It might make you feel better." Netto settled onto the pillow beside his twin.

"Okay." Saito nodded and eventually laid down as well, resting his head on Netto's shoulder.

The older twin had a small procedure for his chest and was doing well, just in the recovery phase.

Saito stared at the ceiling for awhile before eventually being lured to sleep by the sound of his twin's soft breathing.

It was an extended amount of time before Saito finally woke up. He didn’t know why he had woken up, and was slightly frustrated with his sudden awakening, but yawned as he sat up.

"Oh you're awake Nii-San!" Netto said.

Saito glanced and noticed Netto was across the room at the PC (hopefully working on homework).

Saito simply nodded. He didn’t feel right. His throat was warm and his mouth was watering.

"You okay Nii-San?"

"Um...I don't feel good." Saito looked down.

Netto's expression softened. He was hoping the nap would have helped because Saito had mostly been miserable. "What's wrong?"

"Got a weird feeling."

"Like what?" Netto asked. His brother hadn't been human for very long so he was still adjusting to everything in his new body.

"Like its-" And that was unfortunately all Saito could get out before he suddenly threw up.

Netto was immediately by his side, rubbing small circles on his back and holding his hair out the way. He now understood what Saito was trying to tell him.

It seemed to last forever and Saito was frustrated as he had been sitting in the bed. Now there was more stuff to clean.

"Easy Nii-San. It's okay." Netto said softly.

Saito shook his head as he choked back a sob. This sucked!

"Mom! Nii-San's sick!" Netto called as he moved to help Saito lean forward.

"I'm coming dear!" Haruka called back as her footsteps begin to travel up the stairs. It was shortly a minute later when she arrived at the twin's room.

"Oh sweetie." Haruka said as she joined them.

"I'm s-sorry." Saito whispered.

"No apologies." Haruka shushed him. "Netto, let's move Saito-San into the bathroom, I'll take care of the bed okay?"

"Okay!" Netto nodded as Haruka helped Saito out of the bed.

Netto picked his twin up to carry him to the bathroom.

Haruka followed after them with a fresh set of pajamas and water. "Call me if you need me."

Netto and Saito nodded as Haruka left to start cleanning. Netto helped Saito out of his clothes and after a quick shower, helped him into new pajamas.

"Feeling any better Nii-San?"

"No." Saito said hoarsely. Now his throat was hurting too. "I just gave you and mom more work. I'm horrible." The older twin pressed his face into his hands.

"Stop Nii-San. That's not true. You're sick and recovering from surgery. Not only that you're still getting used to having a human body. Things like this happen."

"But your bed-"

"It's fine, worse things have happened to it!" Netto laughed.

"So stop worrying okay?"

"O-Okay." Saito said finally as he nodded. "Thank you Netto-Kun."

"Of course." Netto smiled. "Come on, you need to brush your teeth too."

When the twins came back the bed was made once more and everything was clean and pretty looking (the Haruka touch).

"Back to bed for you dear." Haruka ushered her oldest back into the bed.

As much as Saito wanted to protest he did as was told.

After getting situated, Haruka kissed them both on the head. "You know to call me if you need anything."

They both nodded and with that she left. Saito laid back down and Netto sat up beside him to keep him company.

Their mother had left a basin just in case Saito wasn't feeling well again. Which in the end, Saito was very grateful for as his stomach decided it was not done with him.

Netto was of course ever by his side holding him steady as he clutched the basin tight, hoping and praying the worst would be over soon because the gagging made his chest hurt worse.

"Why...why do...do you stay?" Saito asked quietly as he inhaled as he coughed once more. "Isn't...it gross?"

"I stay because you need me." Netto said instantly as he continued rubbing circles on Saito's back. "How could I leave you when you need me the most? Also you can and would do the same for me. How many times have you stayed by my side whether you were in the PET or not, doing whatever you could to make me feel better when I was stuck in bed? That's what you do when you care about someone."

Saito felt his eyes watering and that he wanted to cry.

"If you're done I can go get Mom."

Saito nodded and Netto called for their mother. Haruka came within a minute's notice, told the twin's she was proud of them, and left to clean the basin out.

Saito mindlessly thought about how his mother was a hero for how she wordlessly took care of them and never complained. She was too nice and deserved the world. When she came back she checked Saito for a fever which he thankfully didn't have.

"No fever which is good. Let me get you a ginger ale and crackers." She handed Saito a towel to clean his face with.

Saito nodded but he felt very tired and laid back down as soon as she left the room. The good thing about being twins was that he didn't have to ask Netto if he could use him as pillow or if they could cuddle. Netto already knew.

And so Saito cuddled up into Netto's side using his twin's stomach as a pillow.

"Comfortable?" Netto asked softly as he put his arm around his older twin.

"Yeah...back hurts." Saito replied tiredly.

"Unfortunately not surprised though." Netto took a pillow and placed it behind Saito. "Try to get some rest if you can. I'll be here."

"M'kay. Thanks Netto...you're the best."

Netto smiled. "Anytime Nii-San. Love you."

"Love you too." And when Haruka came back Saito was thankfully fast asleep.

The oldest twin slept through the whole night easily and the next morning woke up feeling a bit better just empty and exhausted.

"How's my dears doing?" Haruka asked the next morning. Netto hadn't come to get her since the evening so she hoped everything had been alright.

"Better." Saito said hoarsely. "Just weak. And head hurts."

"I'm glad your stomach is better sweetie. Now we just gotta finish letting your chest recover."

Netto was snoring and fast asleep beside Saito. He deserved all the rest he wanted, Saito thought as he squeezed his twin's hand.

"How about a really light breakfast? With some gatorade?"

Saito nodded. His stomach growled now that it had stopped being a jerk. "Yes please."

"I'll get right to it. You guys stay put."

"Can you make Netto hot chocolate?"

"Sure thing. I'm sure he'd love that." Haruka smiled gently.

"I can't make it myself but I just want to thank him even in a small way." Saito smiled a bit. "He rarely gets to have that so."

"Of course. Anything else?"

"No ma'am thank you."

"That's what Momma's are for Saito." Haruka kissed his head once more and left to start breakfast.

Saito sat up in bed and watched a little tv on the laptop making sure to be quiet so Netto could stay sleeping. "I love you Netto. A lot. You mean the world to me."

"Love you...too...Nii-San..." Netto slurred in his sleep but smiled.

#my fanfiction #hikari twins #hikari saito #hikari netto #mmbn #sickfic #emetophobia warning #Phew...really wanted to get this out of my head #rockman.exe #Imagine getting sick like that for the first time I'm sure it absolutely sucks even for someone who isn't afraid #Netto is a really sweet twin brother #He just wants his Nii-San to feel better #Haruka Hikari #Best mom #Therapy and coping

[totallyexhausted]

Vash getting sick after connecting with the plant before being brought to his home…. Or just getting sick in general while traveling in the car through the hot freaking desert because this dumbass won’t tell anyone till he couldn’t hide it anymore- pretty sure Wolfwood would sniff him out though… Wolfwood scolding him but being gentle (he acts like it’s an annoyance but he’d slam the blondes fevered head against his thigh so fast so the ladder could lay down in the back seat, give him his jacket as a pillow and pretend he isn’t running his fingers through his sweaty hair), Meryl’s driving isn’t helping let’s be honest, and Roberto aka uncle downer is in dadmode.

Or Wolfwood getting sick, trying to play it off but like damn isn’t he like 12 (?) and Vash being his gentle caring sunshine self (he would definitely card his fingers through Wolfwoods sweaty hair, reassuring him, give him his jacket, let him lean on him despite the other man’s protests, and honestly be okay if he accidentally got vomited on… idk this guy is the freaking sun), Meryl being cautious but caring and once again, Roberto in dadmode.

Also love that Roberto starts to refer to himself as Uncle Downer or Uncle Downy. Lol this man I hope these four stick together and if not, don’t burst my fantasy that they do…. Vash needs a fucking hug bro- but I also want to see him MAD. Like mad that he fucks shit up- he looses control, himself, and it’s up to the trio to bring him back…

#trigun stampede #vash my beloved #Vash #babygirl #Wolfwood #sick Wolfwood #sick Vash #meryl stryfe #Roberto #uncle downer #little missy #needle noggin #sickfic #kb #you can pry this anime from my cold dead hands #Vash is the sun #sweet boi needs a hug #sick boy #sick kiddo #sick stampede #vashwood #vash x meryl #I’ll take either #love them #love the intro #millions knives #Nai