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somber-sapphic · 14 hours

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Hii!! Been a fan of your of your stuff for a while now, could I please request Nat x reader with maybe Nat coming back home from a mission sick or something? using prompts: "Could you pass me a tissue, please?" + “I think I caught something. My head is pounding." + “Let me fuss over you."

Thanks!!

Healing Hours

〖Summary: Natasha returns early from a mission with a bad case of the flu.〗

〖Word Count: 1.3k〗

〖Pairing: Sick Natasha x R〗

〖Notes: I hope you all enjoy this!〗

You sighed and slammed your book shut, unable to on the words on the page. Natasha was supposed to be back from her mission in two days and you were a mixture of excited and nervous. She had been radio silent for days, only sending messages concerning the mission.

That meant no sweet texts to you, only communication with Cap and Tony.

It was standard for a mission like this, she was in a potentially dangerous situation and to minimize any danger they minimized contact. Even though you understood it didn’t mean you had to like it. You had continued to train while she was away, the physical act of hitting something distracting you from your anxiety. If you could keep your energy up you could keep the emotions at bay.

With a frustrated groan you pulled out your laptop, resigning yourself to some YouTube cat compilations. Those usually held your attention, and it helped that cats were adorable. Maybe you could convince Tony to let you have a cat, if you laid out a good enough argument he might let you.

For a while you let yourself be captured by the videos moving across the screen, watching the pixelated cats fall off of things only to get up unharmed, attack humans, and be afraid of toasters. You were pulled out of your feline trance by a slight jiggle of your doorknob.

You looked up from your laptop, staring at the door handle and reaching for your weapon. No one was supposed to come into your room, and you had strict rules about knocking before opening the door. You grasped the smooth handle of the knife under your pillow, tensing your body in preparation for a fight.

There were a million thoughts swirling through your mind, how had someone gotten into the tower? Why hadn’t FRIDAY alerted you? Were the others safe?

A dark silhouette appeared in the doorway, and you threw your knife, the blade sinking into the wood of the door frame beside the person's head. It was a warning shot, you didn’t miss. Your goal was to scare the person off to avoid an altercation that you didn’t want to get into.

“Jesus Y/n, what the fuck was that?” A raspy voice asked, someone flicked on the light illuminating a very grumpy-looking Natasha. She walked into the room and threw her toolbelt onto the dresser, being much less careful than she usually was. She loved that belt; it had saved her life many times and she always handled it with care.

“You fucking scared me! You’re supposed to be in Latvia, not breaking into my bedroom!” You shot back, lowering yourself against the headboard, the tension leaving your body. The adrenaline coursing through your veins began to calm down, slowing your rapid heartbeat.

“And you’re supposed to be asleep, it's 2:00 in the morning.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

“Like you're any better,” Your words trailed off as a sharp sneeze cut through the room, leaving Natasha hunched over and sniffing.

“Why are you back early?” Suspicion laced your words as you took in her disheveled appearance. When she was in uniform, she went to extensive efforts to make herself look professional even in a more relaxed setting.

This time her clothes were slightly wrinkled, and her hair was a mess. You didn’t expect her to look picture-perfect after coming back from a mission, but she did try to make herself look stoic coming home to impress the men. She turned to face you, revealing an unnatural flush to her cheeks and red-chapped nostrils, the telltale signs of the flu.

“I think I caught something; my head is pounding. Steve pulled me, decided I wasn’t healthy enough to be in the field. He threatened to come and get me himself.” She mumbled, sniffling again. She rubbed her nose against her sleeve and coughed into the air.

You smiled at the idea, picturing her arguing with Steve who would seriously come and get her if he felt the need.

“Okay love, go get showered and I’ll get some supplies. Do you think you’ll be okay to do it by yourself?” You asked, concerned that she might fall over if left alone. Natasha rolled her eyes, wincing at the motion. She shook her head slightly as if to clear it then nodded.

“I’ll be fine. Just want to get it over with, then sleep.”

“Yeah, I bet you do. It’ll feel really good I promise.” When you heard the shower running you climbed out of bed, getting to work. You rifled through the drawers of your bedside table and pulled out a bottle of Nyquil alongside a thermometer, a box of tissues, and a bag of cough drops, all things left over from the last time you’d gotten sick.

Next, you tiptoed into the kitchen and got a glass of water and one of juice, not wanting to make tea until Natasha asked for it. She rarely drank it and you knew she didn’t like it but you’d be happy if she consumed any fluids.

When you returned to your room you were surprised to find your shivering girlfriend curled up in the bed, her wet hair splayed out over the pillow. You’d only been gone for ten minutes tops, you hadn’t expected her to have showered so quickly.

“Did you enjoy your shower?” You asked, setting the glasses of water and juice on the small table by her side of the bed. She shrugged and sniffled thickly, rubbing her fist against her red nose.

“Could you pass me a tissue please?” Her voice was so stuffy, poor thing sounded awful. And she didn’t look much better, not that you would tell her that. You grabbed a tissue from the already prepared box and pressed it into her hand, turning a way to simulate privacy as she blew her nose weakly.

“Oh, my sweet Natty, you really don’t feel well do you…” You muttered, more to yourself than to her. Natasha nodded and turned to look at you with a pout set on her chapped lips. Barely three seconds later her gaze unfocused and she snapped forward with a rough sneeze that she didn’t have time to cover.

“Okay well that wet hair isn’t going to help. Sit up for me, take some medicine, and I’ll dry your hair while we watch a movie.” The redhead did what you instructed, lifting herself onto the pillows with a wheezy sigh.

You poured out a dose of the medication and watched her drink it, making sure that she got all of it. The gulp of “grape” flavored goop was quickly followed by half a glass of juice. You were internally pleased with the amount of juice she had just willingly drank, usually keeping her hydrated was a chore.

“Get comfy and pick a movie, I’ll grab the hair dryer.” She settled on Jaws for reasons that you couldn’t explain. You knew she loved it but you didn’t exactly consider it a good sick day movie. It didn’t matter, she already looked half asleep. You doubted she’d make it through the first act even with the sound of the hair dryer.

“C’mere baby, let me fuss over you.” You climbed into bed and pulled her into your lap, positioning her so that she was laying back against you with her head on your chest. Just as you’d predicted it didn’t take long for her eyes to start drooping, the sound and warmth of the hair dryer seemed to be lulling her to sleep.

“M’sorry for getting sick.” She mumbled, a huge yawn escaping her lips. You rubbed her shoulder and pulled the blankets up around her, making sure that she was comfortable.

“No apologizes necessary Nat. You just relax, I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

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#sickfic #fanfiction #sick fanfiction #marvel sickfic #fever whump #natasha x y/n #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha x you #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #sick fanfic #natasha romanov #mcu sickfic #sick character #fluff #sick fic #avengers sickfic

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sicktember · 2 days

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It's that time again, friends! The mods have assembled a new list of fun prompts for the upcoming Sicktember season. As always, there will be 30 prompts and 5 Alternative Prompts.

We will use polls again this year to allow you some say in two of the prompts. The first one will be posted over the next few days The second will be posted mid-May.

The official September 2024 Prompt list will be posted on Saturday, June 15th and we can't wait to share it with you!

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aziraphales-library · 21 hours

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Hello amazing mod team! I was wondering if you know of any fics involving Crowley taking care of an injured/sick/Fallen Aziraphale, or vice versa? The fluffier the better. I also typically don't read AUs. Thank you all so much for what you do here. Much love!

Hi! You can check our #sick fic, #hurt aziraphale, #hurt crowley, and #fallen angel aziraphale tags for more fics like this. Here are more fluffy hurt and sick Aziraphale fics to add...

Unsteady Breaths by Elijahsworld (NR)

Happily unboxing his new collection of books, the thought that anything he would receive could be harmful to his angelic being never crossed his mind. Or Aziraphale falls ill but Crowley's there to comfort him through these rough times.

Made it out of our cages, never made it back home by ethewinter (NR)

"We were a team," said Crowley. "And a damn good one at that. I never... Out of all of the people who could've betrayed me, angel, I never would have thought it would be you. Not in a thousand lifetimes. You want to know why I'm still hurt?" Crowley straightened and looked directly into Aziraphale's eyes. His yellow eyes were filled with tears. "I never would've done this to you. Never. I don't fucking care what you think, we're an us. We've always been an us. You running off to play archangel doesn't make that different." - Aziraphale's promotion to supreme archangel doesn't work out. Crowley's left to pick up the pieces.

so I’ll take care of you (and honey, you’ll take care of me too) by sugardustedtulips (T)

“Angels don’t sneeze,” Crowley began, letting a few seconds of silence fill the atmosphere. “Wait, do they?” “I don’t know, dear. But, not to worry, I’ll be all tickety-boo in no time. It’s just the weather, you see, icy all around,” Aziraphale remarked, his tone a smidge too polite and formal for the situation. “My corporation’s merely responding to the changes-“ He had begun, before another sneeze so rudely punctuated his sentence. The muffled mucus-filled sniffles were loud enough to be transmitted to the other end of the phone, the worry in the demon’s chest rising, pounding on his ribs. “‘m coming over,” Crowley said matter-of-factly, hoping Aziraphale couldn’t somehow sense that both his legs are anxiously bouncing at breakneck speed.

Unwilling to waste miracles on himself, Aziraphale can’t miracle himself better after catching a cold. Luckily, a certain lovesick demon is there to take care of him. A sickening amount of fluff ensues (and many feelings are realised).

at the edge of the water by viperinz (G)

“Hello, dearest. Do you mind miracling a cold pack for me? I’m afraid I can’t focus enough to do it.” Crowley swallows, his eyes wide. He does what he’s asked to do, because of course he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind at all. He walks to the side Aziraphale is facing, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He hands the cold pack to Aziraphale, who gratefully takes it. “Thank you,” he whispers, and Crowley watches as he puts the pack on his right thigh. Aziraphale sighs in relief, but his face still conveys how much pain he still feels. And, Crowley gets it now. The pain that needed a cold pack, the way that Aziraphale was limping. It was an injury, wasn’t it?

Crowley notices that there's something going on with Aziraphale's leg. He realizes the pain lies deeper than he first thought it would.

Eye for an Eye by Greenathena (T)

A year before the Apocalypse, Aziraphale is suddenly struck blind, losing both his corporeal and ethereal vision. To make matters worse, he's just discovered that Heaven may have some new technology to hasten the end of the world.

so grey the face of every mortal by philadelea (T)

"Now, some 6,000 years, several historical rescues, and one half-Apocalypse later, that promise tasted like ash in Crowley’s mouth. " It's been six months since Armaggeddidn't. Aziraphale has been in Hell for the last three weeks. Crowley is there to pick up the pieces.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #hurt aziraphale #sick fic #mod d

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sylix-royalty · 1 day

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If you’re still taking prompt requests, can I ask for 23 with hotchreid? <3 🥰

Of course! I’m so happy to fill request while I write my next part for my alphabet series, gives me a little motivation! Request as much as you’d like!

Ship: Hotch/Reid, Heid

Prompt: "I'm... lightheaded..."

Type: Fluff

Warnings: Nothing really, just a headache as expected

I made Hotch the Vulnerable one, I couldn’t help it.

Enjoy under the cut!

Aaron sighed as he sat his bags down. Thankfully they’d finished the case just in time, as tended to happen with them it seemed. Due to inclement weather, they weren’t able to fly out until morning, which the team seemed fine with taking an extra night to sleep and relax. David and Derek had a room, JJ and Emily, leaving Spencer with Aaron. The men would rotate rooms occasionally, but for the most part this is how it ended up, mainly because Aaron stayed up late and Spencer was the least to complain about it (meaning he never did).

Spencer noted the exhaustion as Aaron seemed to collapse into a seated position on his bed. He was worried, but he tried not thinking about it too harshly. This case hadn’t been easy for any of them, least of all Hotch since he helf such a high standard for himself that the rest of the team never truly understood. He took such a pride in himself, but he never really reflected it to the rest of them unless he had to, to get the team kicked more into action than they already would be.

Still, it worried Spencer just how out of it his boss seemed. He couldn’t hold his tongue very long as Aaron held his temples with one hand, covering his eyes. Spencer shut off the overhead lights and decided to stick with the lamps in order to try and help.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asked, not wanting to pry, but at the same time, he wanted answers.

“I’m fine,” Aaron said, still keeping up that demeanor that everything was fine when it most certainly wasn’t.

“Hotch?” Spencer tried pressing gently. He didn’t want to go too far in fear of making Aaron angry at him, but he wasn’t going to give up that easily.

Aaron knew that.

“Yeah…” Aaron sighed, “I’m just… I’ve got a headache, is all,” He mumbled, blinking himself back and not wincing at the dim light, as he glanced at Spencer. His eyes seemed unfocused, and Spencer didn’t like it.

“Are you sure that’s everything?” Spencer asked.

“Yeah, just a headace. I’m gonna shower, the heat and steam will probably help,” Aaron mumbled, standing and grabbing one of the hotel towel’s to bring into the bathroom with him, along with his go bag.

Spencer didn’t say anything else as he watched Aaron disappear into the bathroom. Spencer didn’t tend to calculate how long someone to shower, it really depended on outside factors like cases and how someone was feeling that he didn’t spend his time doing it. However, he knew when it was too long for Aaron. Especially when the shower turned off and Aaron hadn’t emerged after a typical couple of minutes to get dressed.

It took him 9 minutes and 45 seconds to come back out to the main room, and Spencer was fully watching him now. Aaron took hold of the wall to keep steady.

“Hotch?” Spencer asked as he slowly stood.

“I’m… light-lightheaded,” Aaron whispered, and as he tried to take a step, his knees buckled beneath him. Spencer was able to catch him and keep him steady.

“Woah, I gotcha, I gotcha,” Spencer whispered, carefully carrying him to the bed and sitting him down. He pressed the back of his hand against Aaron’s forehead. It wasn’t at all accurate, since the man had just emerged from a hot shower and a steam filled room, but still Spencer didn’t like just how warm Aaron felt.

“You might be running a fever,” Spencer whispered. “I won’t be able to completely tell until you’re body has cooled from the shower.”

“I don’t… feel sick,” Aaron whispered.

“You’re lightheaded enough to lose your footing, that seems sick to me. How much have you slept?”

“This case or in general?” Aaron asked.

“Let’s go with in general,” Spencer said as he stood to grab a washcloth and grabbed the ice bucket.

“I only sleep for about 4 hours a night,” Aaron admitted.

“Not good,” Spencer mumbled. “I’m gonna go grab you some ice. Lay down if you need to.”

Aaron nodded, and Spencer left to do that. When he returned, Aaron was still sitting up, but his hand was back over his eyes, middle finger holding one side of his temple and his thumb holding the other. Spencer filled the washcloth with a bit of ice, not enough to make a huge mess when it melted, but enough to provide a little relief for a headache.

“Do you want some of my over the counter medication?” He asked, carefully placing the washcloth over his neck.

“No, I’m fine,” Aaron whispered shakily.

“We both know you’re not,” Spencer whispered.

“You don’t have to take care of me,” Aaron whispered, dropping his hand to look at Spencer. There was a weakness in his eyes that Spencer had never seen before. Not even after the murder of Haley, this was a different kind of weakness.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t want to,” Spencer whispered. “You’ve taken care of me, right? You don’t always have to be by yourself, Aaron.”

Aaron blinked, clearly exhausted enough not to argue. Spencer watched his reaction, trying to keep his face steady and warm.

“I’ve got you,” Spencer promised. “Lay down, I’ll take care of you.”

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #hotchreid #spencer reid #heid #Sylix’s Little Snippets #Sick fic

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spicy-apple-pie · 29 days

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Does this have a point? Yes. I wanted to see more soft dad Bruce and more of early Damian forced into accepting affection because he's sick.

Edit: this isn’t part of the adopted Damian au, this is canon Damian. He’s just so out of it because of the fever

Commission Info / Kofi

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ohmygraves · 3 months

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sick!ghost is so stubborn, refusing to drink his meds and insisting on going to work.

"i've got reports to do," when he's clearly just complaining about his buttload of paperwork the other day.

"those recruits would get in trouble," when johnny told you that ghost yelled at the recruits being dumb that they were cowering in fear because of his scoldings.

"old man needs me," when price literally told him to just stay home instead of getting the entire base sick with his cold.

so, you forced him to stay in bed. somehow.

it was a lot of wrestling with him, fussing for his health and damn near tackling him back under the blanket. you were so convinced at one point that you'd have to restrain him, but at some point he was too dizzy to even get up and walk around, so that sort of helped you.

you didn't want him to force himself until his cold got worse, so you stayed behind too, taking care of him. sitting by his bedside, listening to him grumble about how annoyed he is that he can't go to work, or how he is pissed that he's so dizzy and his sinuses are blocked and his throat felt scratchy... it was just endlessly complaining for him, that he didn't even notice you just caressing his hair softly, nodding along hearing his ramblings with a small smile on your face.

"'mmfine... s'not tha' bad..."

"baby you almost fell while making tea... i can't let you go out like that..."

"'mmfine... i promise..."

you make him some soup, something warm and filling, yet also light for his stomach. he would need it to take his meds. as much as you hated seeing him being so stubborn while he's sick, you hate it more when he's so sick that he couldn't even get up.

when you returned to the bedroom with a bowl of soup and some meds, he was sleeping, snoring away as he splayed all over the bed. you fixed the blanket for him, hands slowly caressing his hair and face to wake him up.

"simon, wake up. i made food. eat a little, okay?"

"mm... no..."

"come on, please?"

suddenly the stubborn man turned clingy, getting spoonfed some soup as he pouts, curling up in a blanket burrito. you patiently feed him, blowing on the food in case it's too hot, and smiling when he finishes everything.

"wasn't so bad, huh?"

"mm... whatever..."

you gave him a kiss on the cheek, handing him a glass of water and some meds. this time, he obediently drank his meds like a good boy.

secretly, he likes being taken care of like this. perhaps he hopes that he gets sick again soon, so you can dote on him more.

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #call of duty headcanon #simon ghost riley x reader #cod ghost x reader #cod headcanon #sick fic #tw: sick

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leighsartworks216 · 7 months

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I've Got You

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Kept thinking about Astarion being cold and Tav being warm and then took another step. Open-ended because I have no idea how to write the other companions and I'm not about to start figuring it out now lol

Warnings: fever, fever chills

Word Count: 626

Masterlist

AO3

Astarion ran cold, this was not new information. A dead body - even one that could walk, fight, speak and more - had a difficult time retaining heat. You offered a way to counteract this.

Your body, full of pumping, delicious blood and a beating heart, radiated heat. Even when you were cold, your skin was as warm as sunlight on his face.

It was hard to allow himself this comfort, at first. It was all he could focus on during your prior intimate moments, but now that you knew his, ahem, complicated relationship with sexual intimacy, you'd been showing him non-sexual physical intimacy. Cuddling, hand holding - that sort of thing. He was stiff the first couple times. And you never begrudged him when he let go or pulled away from the contact. And that was... a lot. It meant a lot.

So, with time, he allowed himself to seek you out. Indulge in your body heat and gentle caresses. At night, you could be barely awake and still open your bedroll to him. Any downtime was passed against your side.

Maybe that's why he noticed the change so quickly. When he sought you out in the night and your body was hot. It almost burned him to touch you.

"Darling," he coaxed, cupping your cheek with a cold hand as he tried waking you. Your eyes fluttered open weakly, and you leaned into his hand with a quiet sigh. Oh, this was not like you at all. "Dear, you're burning up."

You hummed. The words weren't reaching you. All you did was reach out to him. When he slipped into the bedroll with you, you immediately latched onto him. Your forehead was like fire against his neck.

Astarion sighed and wrapped you in his arms. A shiver jolted through you at the temperature difference. "I don't envy how you'll feel come morning."

You groaned quietly against him, annoyed with how his voice rumbled against you. Ah, so you had a headache, too, then.

"I always forget you mortals are so fragile." He tries to speak softer than a whisper. The words are barely audible in the cool night air, but they're more for him anyway. "One sneeze and you're practically on death's door."

Seeing you so weak, so defenseless, terrified him. You were so strong - he'd never seen anyone take down enemies as efficiently as you aside from himself - and yet a minor illness could bring you down so fast. Determined shouts and commands, exchanged for pained whimpers and chattering teeth. He had no idea how you could be shivering when it felt like he was hugging Karlach, but he did his best to help.

Throughout the night, he placed cold hands against your neck, stomach, forehead - anywhere he felt could cool you down. When your fever made you sweat, he brushed it away with the edge of your blanket. There were a few moments when you stopped shaking, but they never lasted long enough. Murmurs of odd dreams reached his ears during the worst episodes. He wished to reach into your mind and remove whatever made you so distraught, but it was almost like your tadpole was dormant, like it was fighting off your illness, too.

He did not eat that night. He feared he would slip out to catch a boar and come back to find you completely still and colder than him. No, staying with you was better. He wasn't sure when he began whispering words of encouragement and care into your ear, or when his hand at the nape of your neck curled into your hair and began massaging your scalp. But as the sun rose above the horizon, "I've got you, my love," were the only words he could think to say.

#fanfic #fanfiction #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate astarion #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #fluff #sick fic #light angst #soft astarion

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ellecdc · 27 days

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I'm sick rn so I wanted to know if you could do a little comfort fic of moonwater taking care of sick reader or something pls :)

awe so sorry you're unwell babes! hope you feel better soon <33

poly!moonwater x fem!reader who has the flu

Another shiver shook your frame even from your place burrowed deep beneath the thick duvet in your spare bedroom.

You’d woken up a little late this morning; Regulus needed to be in the office early for a meeting, and Remus had a meeting with his publisher, meaning you had been on your own. You felt awful, but ultimately hoped that as the day had continued, you might perk up a bit.

You did not perk up. In fact, you ended up spending so much time in the bathroom that your boss actually suggested you go home for the rest of the day.

Too poorly to feel as embarrassed as you probably ought to, you readily accepted and returned to yours, Regulus’, and Remus’ shared flat.

It took nearly all your effort to change out of your work clothes, change the bedding in your shared bedroom so that the boys wouldn’t have to sleep in your germs, and set yourself up in the guest room with a bucket just in case.

You’d slept on and off quite fitfully, waking up with a start when your fever induced brain concocted the most ridiculous nightmares to alert you to your sweaty and discomfited state.

You were so poorly that you hadn’t even realized anyone was home until Regulus was standing in front of you like a creepy vampire watching you sleep.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Regulus.” You muttered, slapping your hand to your own chest as you tried catching your breath, which caused a small coughing fit.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Your boyfriend asked incredulously.

You groaned as you rolled back onto your side to face him.

“Hello, Regulus. It’s nice to see you.” You deadpanned.

Regulus huffed and dropped his briefcase.

“Hello, amour.” He deadpanned in return. “What the hell is wrong with you?” He asked again as he gently sat on the edge of the bed to place the back of his hand to your forehead, grimacing in response to your sweat or your fever, you weren’t sure.

“I’m sick.”

Regulus made a pathetic cooing sound that was so contrary to his sharp demeanour made all the more severe in his smart work attire, it was almost comical.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

You huffed at that. “So, what? So, you could come home and watch me barely sleep? I was fine.”

“Fine.” Regulus scoffed. “You don’t look fine, amour.”

“Words hurt, Reg.” You groaned as the pain behind your eyes grew.

Regulus made another cooing sound and stood.

You thought perhaps he was getting up to change or whatnot but opened your eyes to see him with his phone pressed to his ear.

“Regulus, what are you doing?” You demanded with all the sternness you could muster, which was not much at all in your current state.

“That’s enough out of you.” He muttered quietly as he brought his phone back to his ear.

“Hi love, how are you?” He spoke over your attempted rebuttal.

You could hear your other boyfriends’ low tones responding to Regulus from the other end of the line.

“Good. It went well, thank you. I just got home actually, Y/N’s already here; she’s quite poorly.”

Though you still couldn’t make out the words, Remus’ voice picked up in volume.

“No, she didn’t tell me either.” Regulus commented, sending you a pointed glare.

“Okay, yeah. Alright, we’ll see you soon. Yeah, love you too. Bye.”

You groaned petulantly. “Why’d you do that? He doesn’t have to come home for me.”

“Maybe he’s coming home for me; ever consider that?” He snarked back, pushing some of your sweaty hairs away from your head to press a kiss to your head.

“You’re a furnace, amour. Is it safe for me to assume you haven’t taken any medication?”

He got his answer in the form of a guilty expression.

“Tu vas être ma mort. Tu as de la chance d'être si mignon.” He muttered as he left the room to change and gather some things for your flu.

You came back into consciousness to the sound of Remus and Regulus speaking gently.

“I hate to wake her up, but she really should take something.”

“Has she eaten, though? She shouldn’t take anything on an empty stomach.”

“If that bucket is any indication, I doubt there’s anything in her stomach at all.”

“Can you guys go do your worrying elsewhere, please? I’m trying to die in peace.” You groaned, caused Remus to gasp and Regulus to scoff.

“Dovey! Oh, my poor girl. What happened? Are you okay?” Remus cooed, kneeling on the floor in front of you to start petting at your head.

“I’m okay.” You croaked.

“You’re a liar.” He responded; words pointed but expression loving.

“Do you think you can eat, amour?” Regulus interrupted.

“I don’t want to.” You moaned.

“That’s not what I asked, love.”

Remus tsked at Regulus’ coldness and took your face in his hands.

“Dove, can you try? Please? For me.”

You groaned very petulantly but began sitting yourself upright nonetheless.

You allowed Remus to position your pillows and arrange the tray Regulus had prepared for you on your lap, but you drew the line at him trying to spoon feed you the stew.

“Did you wake up this poorly?” Regulus asked from the end of your bed.

“Sort of, but it got worse at work.”

The air was sucked out of the room as both men turned to look at you incredulously.

“You went to work?!” Regulus gawked.

“Why, dove?”

“Ma MORT, je le jure!” Regulus groaned exasperatedly. “Why didn’t you call us to pick you up?”

“And you took the time to change the bedding and move out of our room when you were like this?” Remus added.

You were beginning to feel embarrassingly teary as you put your spoon down and pushed the tray away from you.

“I didn’t want you guys to get catch this. I just... I was fine.” You sniffled and wiped at your eyes as the first tear fell.

Remus tsked again and rested his forehead against your temple, and you realized then how much cooler his forehead felt against yours.

“Okay.” Regulus said quietly, picking up the tray from your lap and placing it on the dresser. “Can you take these for me, love? Fever reducers and anti-nausea for now; we’ll see how you feel in a few hours.”

He held the pills out to you in his palm and held a glass of water in the other. You hiccupped and sniffled before accepting both, handing him back the glass half full once you were done.

“Thank you.” Regulus whispered gently, kissing your forehead and bringing your tray to the kitchen.

“I’m sorry we scolded you, dovey.” Remus whispered into your cheek, causing new tears to fall. “We just worry; you know that, right?”

“Yeah.” You whimpered, and even you could tell it was sort of pathetic.

“Oh, my poor darling.” Remus cooed, standing from your side to climb in on the opposite side of the bed.

“Don’t, Rem. I don’t want you to get sick.” You whined, though allowed your body to be pulled into his side.

“Tough.” He said simply, punctuating the sentiment with a kiss to your temple. “Then I’ll just get to call in sick too.”

You were sure the tears were mostly from exhaustion and discomfort, but you couldn’t seem to get them to stop.

“What’s the matter, hm?”

“I don’t feel good.” You whined.

“I know, babydove. I’m sorry.”

That’s how Regulus found you when he came back to the room; you crying into Remus’ shirt as he rubbed broad strokes up and down your back.

“Rem, we’re trying to bring her temperature down, love.” He admonished gently, though sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his own soothing strokes on your clammy arm.

“You try denying this sweet girl her cuddles, Reg.” Remus responded.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before placing a cold wet cloth on your head.

“I’m sorry you’re so poorly, amour. And I’m sorry if we made it worse.” He apologized.

You quickly shook your head (which you immediately regretted as the nausea threatened to return). “You didn’t; you don’t.”

“I upset you though, I’m sorry. I’m too rough sometimes.” Regulus admitted, sounding almost as teary as you. Remus tsked and reached one of his hands over you to take Regulus’ hand.

“I know what you’re thinking, love, and you’re wrong.” Remus insisted. “And I know you’re wrong, because your parents wouldn’t have fussed over you at all when you were sick; so there’s no way you could be acting like them right now.”

The fact that Regulus had spent any amount of time worrying that he’d been too harsh with you, that he’d been at all like his awful parents caused your few tears to turn into true crying.

“I’m sorry Reggie.” You cried, turning to look at him. His brows furrowed dramatically, and he looked just as close to crying. “If you weren’t here; I’d be sitting in bed with no food, no medicine, no cloths, and no love.”

“Well, you maybe would have had some love.” Remus argued from your other side.

“I would’ve died.” You insisted.

One tear did fall from Regulus’ eye as he smiled sadly at you. “I just hate to see you so poorly, amour. You should always be happy and lovely.”

“I am. I’m better when you’re here.” You insisted.

“How dare you insinuate that our sweet darling girl could ever possibly be not lovely, Regulus. Absolute blasphemy.” Remus scolded, causing both you and Regulus to chuckle.

“Terribly sorry, you two. I seem to have forgotten myself.” He laughed, turning the cloth over on your head and trailing his fingers down your jaw to massage at your neck.

“Don’t let it happen again.” Remus instructed.

You fell asleep to the sound of Regulus promising that he wouldn’t.

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vanteguccir · 1 month

Text

Sick boy | Matt Sturniolo

Matt Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where Matt wakes up with the flu, but Y/N is there to take care of him.

Warning: The flu, headache, fever, body aches.

Requested?: Yes, by anon.

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

"Come on, my love. It's time to wake up." Y/N muttered for the third time, her eyes running over Matt's face carefully.

She crouched on the floor next to where Matt's head rested on his pillow, lightly pulling the duvet covering his neck down, before bringing her hand to his short curls, running her fingers through them gently.

"Um, don't wanna." Matt complained, wrinkling his nose and keeping his eyes closed. His voice sounded hoarse and tired, as if he had just laid down to sleep, not the other way around.

Y/N frowned. She knew that her boyfriend didn't have any ease in waking up - regardless of the time - or getting out of bed, but he never reacted like that. Normally, he would pull her back to bed and make some little jokes.

The girl moved her hand down from his hair to his forehead, feeling skin against skin.

"Oh no, babe, you're burning up! Are you feeling any pain?" Y/N asked in a low voice, moving the back of her hand against his forehead, feeling every possible point.

"Everywhere, my body is sore, and my head is pounding." The brunette responded seconds later, taking a while to process her question. "I'm so cold."

"I know, lovie, I know. I'll get the thermometer, I'll be right back." Y/N caressed the skin in the middle of his eyebrows gently, feeling small droplets of sweat begin to appear there.

Matt groaned at her sentence, raising his right arm and wrapping his hand around hers weakly.

"I need to know your temperature, love. I'll be right back, I promise." She whispered, bringing her face closer to his hand that held her, sealing the warm skin with her lips before letting go, lifting herself off the ground.

The girl walked quickly to the bathroom on the other side of the hall, rummaging through the various drawers until she found the emergency one. Her eyes soon found the thermometer and the medicine box, trying to find the one specifically for fever and body aches.

She returned to the bedroom, closing the door behind her with her right elbow before moving closer to the bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress next to Matt's body.

"Open your mouth for me, baby." Her voice was soft as she lightly tugged at his stubble-covered chin, adjusting the thermometer to the right position above his tongue before closing it again.

While Y/N waited for the result, she ran her free hand over the boy's face, pushing away the strands of hair that were sticking to his sweaty skin, watching as he slightly opened his eyes every now and then, blinking them slowly.

Soon, the small beep sounded, and Y/N could finally see the result, her eyes widening when she saw the 39° written in yellow letters on the display.

"Oh no... This isn't good." She muttered to herself, searching with her eyes for her bottle of water that she kept in their room, soon finding it on her bedside table. "Come on, let's take some medicine." The girl indicated, stretching over Matt's body and retrieving the bottle, returning to her previous position.

"I don't want medicine." Matt complained in an almost childish voice, turning his face away from where Y/N was.

"I know you don't like it, babe, but you need it. I promise that after you take it, you'll feel all better, hm?" The girl proposed, caressing his covered shoulder with her free hand, watching with a small smile as her boyfriend turned his head towards her, nodding slowly, a pout decorating his lips. "Here, sit."

The brunette sat with her help, opening his right hand, waiting for the pill. Y/N took one out of the pack, placing it on his palm before opening her water bottle, handing it over as well.

Matt opened his mouth, throwing his head back and putting the medicine against his tongue, before taking a large gulp of water, closing his eyes tightly as he swallowed the pill, the remnants of the bitter taste remaining in the back of his throat.

"Thank you, my love. Now, lie down. I'm going to make you some eucalyptus tea to bring down your fever, okay?" She took the bottle from his hands, closing it before placing it on the bedside table next to him, receiving a nod from the brunette.

Her hands worked on helping him lie down in the best way possible, keeping the duvet away from his body - despite the boy's complaints. Making sure he was completely comfortable, she curved her upper body over his, kissing his reddened cheek for a few seconds before finally standing up.

Her steps towards the kitchen were silent, making sure of closing the door when leaving the room, not wanting to disturb her boyfriend with the sounds she would make in the kitchen.

"Where's Matt?" Chris's voice sounded from the living room, making Y/N turn around too quickly in fright, her hand flying to her chest, feeling her heart beating strongly. "Oops, sorry." The boy smiled in amusement, adjusting his position momentarily on the couch upholstery, his phone in one of his hands.

"It's okay, Chris. Matt is sick, he woke up with a fever and body aches, I'm going to make him some tea." She indicated, moving back towards the kitchen, missing the worried look that took over the face of the youngest.

"Is he feeling super bad? Do you want some help?" Chris lifted his upper body, sitting upright, ready to get up and help her as needed.

"He'll be okay, Chris, it's just a flu, don't worry." Y/N smiled softly at him, trying to convey reassurance with her words. "You can go see him if you want."

Chris quickly got up from his seat, throwing his phone on the front pocket of his hoodie and walking quickly to her shared room with Matt. Y/N shook her head with a small smile on her face. She loved how they looked after each other so much.

Y/N quickly returned her focus to her initial task, filling the kettle with water and taking it to the stove, turning it on. She opened one of the cabinets above the sink, taking Matt's favorite mug before opening the first drawer on the right, pulling out a small bag of eucalyptus tea, placing it inside the mug and attaching the string that held it to the edge with a proper clip.

The whistle of the kettle caught her attention, letting it known that the water was at the correct temperature. Y/N quickly turned off the stove, taking the kettle arm carefully so as not to burn herself, filling the mug to the right amount.

The girl waited a few seconds for the herbs to release their tea property before taking it carefully, holding it with both hands as she walked back to their room.

The door had been left ajar by Chris, who was no longer there, probably having gone down to his own room after checking on Matt. She walked slowly to the bed, seeing that her boyfriend had fallen asleep again.

Y/N sat in the same place as before, resting the mug on her left thigh and keeping it still with one of her hands, bringing her other to Matt's face, caressing his cheek with her cold fingers lightly, coercing him to wake up.

A whine of complaint escaped Matt's throat as his senses returned slowly, his brow furrowing almost automatically.

"I know, honey. Come on, I made your tea." Y/N cooed, taking her hand from his cheek to his shoulder, pulling him almost imperceptibly, helping him sit up straight. "Here, pretty boy."

She lifted her hand that was holding the mug, fitting it between Matt's two hands and guiding them close to his lips, keeping her hand pressed against his own in case his fingers let go of the ceramic.

"Does your head still hurt?"

"A little, but not as much as before." The brunette responded weakly, moving the mug away from his lips momentarily, enjoying the hot liquid warming his throat and relieving the pain.

"That's a good sign, sweetheart." Y/N whispered, stroking his covered thigh with her free hand.

Matt put the tea down seconds after, pushing his hands against Y/N's - which was still close to his - indicating he didn't want it anymore.

"There's one more sip here-"

"No." He whimpered, shaking his head repeatedly, his eyes filling with tears as he felt a sting in his head from the sudden movement.

"Oh darling, don't make any sudden movements. It will only make it worse." The girl sighed, extending her arm that held the mug towards the bedside table, resting the ceramic there, before turning her attention to the sick boy. "Come on, let's get you to bed. The ideal would be to take a warm bath now, but let's give the medicine time to work and make your headache ease first."

"M' sorry." Matt sniffed, lowering his head and fixing his gaze on his legs.

"Hey." Y/N called gently, cupping his chin and pulling it up, looking into the blue eyes she loved so much. His tired, glassy eyes looked up at her, blinking profusely as a singular tear slid down his cheek. "Oh, my poor baby. There's no need to be sorry. Everyone gets sick, it's normal. Taking care of you is a pleasure for me." She quickly assured him, stroking the skin of his jaw lightly. "I promise."

"M'kay." Matt murmured, sniffling and passing one of his hands on his face, wiping away the trail of tears. "Can you lay with me?"

"Of course, sweet boy." She responded, smiling softly before rising from her siting position. "Do you need anything?"

Matt shook his head, slowly adjusting himself on the mattress so that he could lie down again, afraid of making any sudden movements and ending up in more pain.

Y/N walked to her side, keeping the duvet at the foot of the bed. If Matt couldn't cover himself, neither could she.

"Do you want to lay on my lap, lovie?" The girl asked, sitting just below her own pillow, looking at him with caring eyes.

"Can... Can you hug me?" He asked weakly, his cheek burning with the feeling of vulnerability.

"Of course I can, honey." Y/N responded without excitation, moving her body onto the mattress so that she lay completely on her back.

Her hands touched Matt's biceps, coercing him to lie on the way he felt more comfortable on top of her. The boy sighed contentedly, laying his head in the crook of her neck and wrapping his arms around her waist, burying his nose in her skin. He intertwined his legs between hers, almost melting with the warmth of her skin and clothes against his own.

Y/N smiled as she made sure he was completely comfortable, wrapping her own arms around his shoulders, pressing him closer to herself - if that was even possible.

She tilted her head down slightly, sealing her lips over his messy curls in a tender kiss, exhaling the scent of his manly shampoo.

"Sleep, sweetheart. I'll be here when you wake up."

Y/N watched in relief as Matt's breathing slowly slowed, him finally surrending to the deep sleep that would help him get better.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

My asks are always open. My requests are closed at the moment since I have many to work in, but you can always send questions or simply talk to me 🩷💋

And remember to treat people with kindness always!

~ taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @il0vebeingdelulu @sturniolowhore @mimi-luvzyu @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @domizzzsstuff @sturnizd @hearts4chris @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @leah-loves-lilies @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @sturniolho @ksskianshd @ccolleenn @sturniolo-lover1317 @soimightlikeoldmen69 @hrtyjy @ldr-sl0t @breeloveschris @bellasfavbisexual @its-jennarose @iammattswife

(If you want to be added to the taglist, please comment here)

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newtabfics · 5 months

Text

The first time Astarion let you hold him was emotional to say the least. You weren't feeling particularly great, having been caught in the rain. You were nearly bedridden, but thanks to a few herbs and some hot broth, you were on the mend.

When he curled against your chest, your skin was feverish, slowly settling as you began to run your fingers through his hair.

His whole body had stiffened. He already loved when you played with his hair when you were kissing and when you gripped it when his tongue worked magic or when he plunged into you almost animalistically.

But this? This was different. Your nails lightly scratched his scalp with one hand while the other played with the curled hairs on the back of his neck.

His nose pressed lightly against the crook of your neck as you held him so tenderly. He felt guilt in his veins as he realized you were falling in love with him.

He needed to tell the truth, he knew, but as your fingers slowed and you snored softly, breath brushing over his forehead, he decided he could wait.

he would tell you...but for now...he would just enjoy how you held him.

#drabble #astarion bg3 #astarion angst #astarion romance #astarion x reader #cuddling #sick fic

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italiansteebie · 1 year

Text

whenever anyone was sick, steve would bring them soup.

classic chicken noodle, very soothing, very good. the issue was, no one could figure out where he got it from.

it was that kind of soup that you wanted on a cold winters night, or the days when you just need something cozy.

they had gone through all the restaurants in town that serve chicken noodle soup, and yet none of them came anywhere close to what steve brought them.

he always delivered it in a plain plastic bag, and a plain styrofoam cup wrapped in tinfoil. it was always still warm, just at the perfect temperature for eating.

it was like magic.

and then came the fateful day, eddie was sick. cough, snot, fever, the gross, disgusting works. and hell. he'd been waiting for this day, couldn't wait to try steve's soup. and weasel out of the boy where he got it from.

so the doorbell rang, and eddie all but ran to answer it. steve harrington in all his glory, standing on his front step with that famous grocery bag that contains the magic soup.

they get inside, settle into the couch and eddie cracks open the container.

"geeze man. where do you get this stuff? it's like heaven in a styrofoam cup."

eddie practically moaned into his first bite.

steve laughed, "everyone says that. it's just soup!"

eddie shakes his head, "but from WHERE?"

"from me."

and that stops eddie mid bite. he gestures to the cup with his spoon, eyeing steve. "you made this?" he asks, mouth full, broth dribbling out.

steve ducks his head, grabbing a napkin to dab at eddie's mouth. "yeah, it's no big deal."

the absurdity itself almost cures the cold that wracked eddie's body.

"dude! your soup practically cures all illness!"

steve scoffs, looking at eddie fondly, "whatever eddie, just eat your soup."

he pushes eddie lightly on the shoulder, watching as the metal head mocks him silently into the soup container.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steve can cook #steve harrington headcanon #bi steve harrington #gay eddie munson #steve is a good cook #steve is a sweetheart #steve is a mom #soft steddie #steddie #steddie fluff #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #stranger things ficlet #sick fic #stranger things headcanons #sick eddie munson

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jasmines-library · 2 months

Note

Hey I don't know if you've ever done a Winchester!sister story with the sister being really young and also much younger then her brothers, so I don't know if you would be able to do this request for me but I really hope you can:)

Anyway the request is 2 year old reader wakes her brothers up by crying and they get up and find her in her crib her onsie pajamas buttons is open as if she tried to get rid of it and then when Dean picks her up he feels the heat radiating from her.

Both Dean and Sam know they have to take care of the situation. Dean takes her temperature, and they find out she is sick and they take care of her and so on and so on. This is just a type of summary so you can change things as much as you like. I love a good fluff and angst story;)

Loveee your writing and can't wait for this story❤️❤️❤️

Sick Bug

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Summary: When you wake up feeling sick, your big brothers are there to help make you feel better.

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Sickness

Exciting sidenote: I am 2 followers away from 1K!!

⛧ SPN MASTERLIST ⛧

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

You were crying again. Poor baby had been restless all day, tossing and turning as if you were trying to escape a force that wasn’t there. At first your brothers thought you were just over tired: the three of you had been on the road all day. Travelling with a toddler was dangerous business, so Sam and Dean tried not to do it often, but with Cas MIA and Bobby out of town they were left with no choice.

They had lay you down to rest not too long ago, but you had been restless since then. You had protested being put to bed in the first place, clinging to Dean with your little hands but after some coaxing he had managed to get you to sleep. That and you were absolutely exhausted and struggling to keep your little eyes open.

Then your eyes had come flying open and your little whimpers filled the room. You were too hot and felt like you were going to suffocate as your squirmed, trying your unbutton your pyjamas. Your head ached and your sinuses were uncomfortably blocked, throwing you off balance.

Dean rose slowly from his slumber, altered by your cries. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes he made his way to your crib where you were sat up trying to struggle out of your onesie. Sam rolled over to glance at your from his bed. He hadn’t really been sleeping, but seeing as Dean had made his way over to you he didn’t feel the need to.

“What’s the matter, huh sweetheart?” Dean frowned as he reached out to pick you up. Your arms reached out instinctively to grab him as you continued to cry.

The second you were in Deans arms he became increasingly worried about the warmth that radiated off of you and he shot a look to Sam who, at his brothers concerning lack of speech, clambered out of bed and moved cumbersomely towards you.

You buried your face into the crook of Deans’s neck trying to hide from the ache. His skin provided some relief and you sniffled. Dean further furrowed his brow. Your skin was hot. Too hot.

“Sweetheart?” Dean tried to coax your face away from his neck. He brushed away the stray hairs that your cold flush of sweat had plastered to the edge of your face before pressing his palm to your forehead. “She’s warm, Sammy.”

“You feeling poorly, kiddo?” Sam asked, taking you from Deans arms. You clung to him closely and nodded feebly.

Dean moved quickly towards the first aid kit, rummaging around for the thermometer as Sam bounced you up and down gently in his arms to try and soothe you a little. The eldest Winchester’s movements were somewhat panicked as he pulled out the glass cylinder.

“Alrighty sweetheart, open up.” He tried to persuade you to place the tube under your tongue. When you finally stopped trying to turn your tired face away and they had convinced you to hold it in your mouth for long enough, Sam pulled out to reveal that the line had skyrocketed to 101.

“Fever.” Sam confirmed, showing his brother the thermometer. He shifted you in his arms. “Explains why she can’t sleep.”

Suddenly you were overtaken by a fit of harsh, dry coughs that tore through you. Sam winced, rubbing you back gently.

“S’mmy…” you blubbered gripping his shirt tightly.

“Shh. It’s alright sweetheart we’ve got you.” Sammy moved over to the bed, still cradling you in his arms. He looked up at Dean. Realistically he knew that you would be fine, but he had never dealt with anything like this before and it worried him.

Dean on the other hand knew how to handle the situation. He had dealt with Sammy being ill plenty of times when he was younger. But when he looked at your flushed and sweaty cheeks and the way your body shivered ever so slightly, he couldn’t help but feel awful. As though he should have found someone to take care of you instead. But watching you curled up in his brother’s arms he realised he had more pressing matters to worry about.

Moving back to the first aid box, he pulled out a dose of medicine, cursing silently when you were overrun by another coughing fit. It was followed by another whimper. Sam slowly removed the outer layer of your onesie hoping that he could cool you down quicker. Still you clung to him closely, too young to understand that you might get him sick as you sniffled against him, but Sam didn’t care. He would risk being sick if it meant taking away your pain.

“Here we go sweetheart.” Dean wandered back over, a cool glass of water on one hand and a medicine in the other: one of those small sachets that they kept on hand in case of emergencies. “This will help you feel all better.” He promised.

Reaching out you held onto the cup, and with Deans help took a few sips. The icy water soothed the back of your throat and you sighed in content, setting back into Sam a little. It took a little more convincing for you to take the medicine. Tired and overwhelmed you had tried to refuse the bitter taste. But in the end Sam had promised you that you would feel much better if you took it, so reluctantly you let the liquid slide over your tongue.

It wasn’t long after that that you began to grow tired. Your little eyes struggled to stay awake as you lay curled up in Sam’s lap. Dean had perched beside him, watching shitty cartoons to help keep him awake so he could monitor your temperature in case you got any worse. Though as your ragged breaths evened out into tiny half-snores, the medicine seemed to be doing its job as your temperature seemed to slowly fall back down to a slightly more normal number.

At some point, Sam had also fallen asleep. Rubbing circles on your back and smoothing over your hair had lulled him into slumber. Dean smirked and pulled the bedcovers over the two of you. It looked like you weren’t going back to your bed tonight.

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

SPN TAGS:

@defonotashleyr

@aestheticdaisies

@xxrougefangxx

@hell-o-kittys

@inlovewhithafairytale

@harleycao

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

#supernatural x reader #supernatural x sister reader #hurt/comfort #sick fic #Sam Winchester #sam x sister reader #sam Winchester x sister reader #supernatural x little sister reader #Sam Winchester x little sister reader #Dean Winchester #Dean Winchester x Reader #Dean Winchester x sister reader #Dean Winchester x little sister reader #spn #spn fanfic

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thebearchives · 1 month

Note

lando and oscar

who would baby tf out of you when you have the slightest injury or tiny cold? but more than that, which one of them would LOVE when you play into it too? 🥺

LANDO NORRIS will take any chance he gets to baby the absolute fuck out of you. it doesn’t matter if you’re sleepy, or hungry, or injured, or sick— if he gets the chance, he will take it. of course, lando hates when you’re sick because his heart aches seeing you whine and cry about feeling horrible— but he LOVES how easily you end up caving and don’t fight it when he starts babying you.

— little blurb under the cut!

“baby, open up.” lando sat in front of you with a bowl of soup ( it had been canned and heated on the stove, but it’s the thought that counts. )

you whined, pulling your head further back. “nooo, i don’t want anymore.”

lando frowned back at you. “i know you don’t want to, but you need to, okay? you need to eat before you can take your meds.”

“but it hurts.” you’d been nursing a sore throat since the night before, and it was seemingly only getting worse as the hours passed.

“i know it does, love.” lando pouted. “but this should help you feel better. i promise.”

you mulled it in your head for a bit— logically, you knew lando was right, but logic was out the window when your head was pounding and it hurt to swallow. you’d much rather go back to bed and sleep it off, but unfortunately for you, your boyfriend refused to pass up a chance to play nurse.

“fine, but only this bowl.” you glared at the bowl in his hands before shifting your glare to the man holding it. “if you pull a move like last time and get another bowl of soup right after—”

“i won’t.” lando cut you off. “i’ll even pinky promise you.”

you watched as he shifted the bowl to one hand, holding his now free hand out with his pinky extended. you begrudgingly lifted your own hand and intertwined your pinky with his. lando smiled, tightening his pinky against yours before letting go.

“alright,” he pulled the spoon back up to your lips. “now say ‘ahhh’.”

you rolled your eyes, but listened anyway.

this post is part of a celebration! click here to learn more and send your requests!

#— 2k celebration #lando norris x reader #lando norris #lando #norris #ln4 x reader #ln4 #sick fic #blurb #drabble #ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ writes

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sickiehugs · 7 months

Text

The most cold, blunt, reserved, imperious characters going completely soft when their cinnamon roll partner gets sick >>>>

Cuddles, pet names, spoiling them to heaven and back. Absolutely no regard for pride, all they're focused on is making sure their poor, sick little sweetheart doesn't have to lift a finger until they're fully recovered.

#sickfic #whump #sickie #whumpblr #sickfic prompts #fever whump #sickfic tropes #sick fanfic #sick fanfiction #sick fic #fever #fluff #whump fluff #fluff whump #whump prompts #whump prompt #promptiehugs

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esbee-daisy · 7 months

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When A is woken up in the middle of the night and at first they’re not sure why. They rub their eyes and look around blearily; all looks in order. But damn they’re hot. And as soon as that thought appears, they realize with a start it’s coming from next to them - and they look down in horror at B, laying curled into their side. B is absolutely radiating heat - so much so that A is sweaty just from being pressed against them, though no where near as drenched as B. B is shaking and whimpering pathetically, and looks pale even in the low light of the moon, with bright red spots high on their cheeks. A realizes they must not have been feeling well for a while and not mentioned anything, because with a fever like this there’s no way B didn’t go to bed feeling terribly unwell. And A hadn’t noticed.

A tries to wake B up gently, knowing they need to take their temperature and get them some water and meds, but after a few gentle hair strokes and rubbing of B’s arm, they realize B isn’t rousing at all. And if anything their face seems more pained and frightened than it had a minute ago. A starts getting frantic, shaking B harder and calling their name in a panic. They see B’s eyes flutter beneath the lids briefly, then stop as their head dropped even more towards the bed. A’s stomach drops when they realize their aren’t able to rouse B at all. Uh oh.

#fainting #passing out #sickfic #burning up #fever #caretaker #sickfic prompts #whump #whump prompt #unconcious #sick fic #sickie #Whumpee #sick whump #sick Whumpee #collapsed #fever fanfic

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peachesofteal · 1 year

Text

Cough

Just a drabble. Belongs in the future of the Sassy series.

Simon Riley/female reader - Soft dad Simon Riley 1k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: sickfic, comfort, medicine and illness, soft dad Simon, fluff, Simon is a good partner and dad I will be taking no questions. Simon's family is sick.

The raspy cry is what wakes him. You groan in your sleep, searching across the mattress blindly for the source of the sound, seeking Theo where he sleeps in the bassinet that you set up when he first got sick. You’re wrapped up in a cocoon of blankets and one of Simon’s old sweatshirts, fighting to get free and pull the babe into the bed with you, just as you have for most of the night. Very dim, light orange rays of dawn peek under the drawn shades, casting shadow across the wooden floor of the bedroom, and Simon rubs his eyes open, body fully in tune with the sound of Theo’s distress. He gets there first, scooping the crying boy into his arms and ushering him out the door and into the bathroom, silently hoping you didn’t wake fully.

He turns the shower onto scalding hot and draws the curtain closed, stripping Theo out of his night shirt, cradling him against his bare skin.

“We’ve got this, yeah?” Theo blinks up at him, tears dripping from his eyes, face scrunching into a scream. Poor lad, Simon thinks. “Shhh, shhh.” He tries to soothe him, pressing the baby to his chest, the steam from the shower filling both of their lungs, and Theo’s cries slowly shift into more of a wheeze. The high pitched, squeaking noise sets Simon on edge, and he hovers his mouth above Theo’s ear, trying to relax him into easier breathing. The syrupy rattle of his little lungs heightens Simon’s anxiety about the illness that’s swept the house, the thickened scrape of the coughing and gasping coming from both you and Theo filling him with unease. Sickness is not something he’s well equipped to deal with, he believes, and this silent foe that threatens his family caught him more off guard than he would care to admit.

“It can be common in babies of this age.” The pediatrician explains to both of you while he holds Theo, the big four month old squirming and crying in his grip. You cover your mouth as you cough.

“But he’ll be okay?” To a stranger, you sound calm, but to Simon, who’s seen you in too many life or death situations to count, he recognizes the waver in the higher pitched syllables, the tense string tying your shoulders taut. You’re worried, even with the doctor’s reassurance.

“This medicine twice a day for seven days should knock it out. You can try turning the shower on and closing the door in the bathroom for a makeshift steam room to help give him some relief in the meantime.” She smiles kindly and then scribbles onto an RX pad. “Call me if you don’t see improvement after the medication finishes.”

A very soft knock sounds at the door.

“You okay?” Your voice scratches when you pop your head in, nose stuffed, face tired. Theo twists his head in your direction immediately.

“Yeah, we’re alright.” Your eyes travel over the two of them briefly, taking in the baby, only in his diaper and Simon, only in his boxers, a sleepy, barely-there smile twisting your lips. You step into the foggy room, resting your chin against Simon’s arm, careful to keep your face pointed away from Theo.

“How’s his breathing?”

“Still got a bit of a wheeze.” Simon takes a closer look at you and nearly winces. You’re no longer contagious, but not particularly any better off than Theo, the exhaustion of having a sick kid compounding your own illness. “How’re you feeling?”

“Fine.” You lie, moving to wash your hands in the sink before stroking a finger along Theo’s cheek. “Poor baby boy.” You murmur, and then draw a scratchy breath and step backwards, coughing into the crook of your arm.

“Sweet girl,” he says, palm brushing along your sweat-dampened skin, “you should be in bed.”

“He’s due for his medicine. The alarm woke me.”

“I’ve got it.” He assures you, gesturing to the vial on the counter. “We’ve got it, huh Theo? Tell her, go back to sleep.” You raise an eyebrow.

“You sure?” you sigh heavily when he nods. “Okay.” He presses his lips against your forehead.

“I’ll check on you once I put him back down.” You glance at them again, eyes half asleep, and then click the door shut as quietly as possible.

Simon eyes the sticky pinky substance that drips from the brown bottle with disdain. Smells awful, like fake bubblegum. Theo sits with his back against his chest, legs dangling over his forearm, watching his dad in the mirror as he scoops a dose into the little baby spoon they’ve been using.

“Alright lad.” He holds the spoon in front of his mouth, trying to urge him to open up. “I know, I know.” He hums while Theo jerks his head backwards, lips opening with a wail. Simon seizes the opportunity and deposits the pink slime onto his tongue, gently tilting his head back just slightly to encourage him to swallow. “Shhh. All done, good job.” He turns him around, laying his cheek against his chest, rubbing his back until his cries quiet down.

When he cracks the door to the bedroom, you’re already knocked out, sprawled across the bed, mouth open and lightly snoring. It’s the deepest you’ve slept in a week, and he can’t bring himself to disturb your rest. He leans over you, Theo still in his arms, and kisses your cheek gently.

“Say goodnight, mum.” He whispers, one arm supporting the boy, while the other tucks the sheet closer under your chin.

He buttons Theo into new sleep clothes before placing him on his back in the crib, Simon’s giant palm just barely resting on his little chest until he settles, eyes slowly closing and breaths falling into an even rhythm. He folds up a spare baby blanket for a pillow, and lays down on the carpet, one hand grasping the bars of the crib. Just in case he wakes up. That way, he knows his dad’s here, Simon tells himself, his own eyes feeling heavy, the heat from the steam finally pulling both father and son into deep, dreamless sleep.

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