#flu sickfic

[rickybowensfever]

“Wear Your Coat, You’ll Catch a Cold” - Sicktember, Chris & Jenn

18. “Wear Your Coat, You’ll Catch a Cold”

23. Coughing Fit

@sicktember

My Ocs: Chris & Jenn

Read on AO3

When Jenn got home from yoga class, she dropped off her yoga mat in the wicker basket in the living room of their small apartment and walked to the bedroom to jump in the shower.

Walking into the room, she kicked off her shoes and turned to their queen bed to see Chris covered up under their white comforter with a fuzzy blanket over top of him. She pouted her lip and gently shook him.

“Hey, I thought you went out?” she asked. She and Chris left their apartment at the same time 10am. Chris heading to Target and the beer distributor to grab last minute snacks and drinks for Owen’s house party tonight and Jenn going to the gym to attend her weekly yoga class. Chris opened his eyes to see his girlfriend crouched by the side of their bed, her dark green eyes filled with worry as she noticed his rosy cheeks and pale complexion. He coughed to clear his throat before he spoke, “I came home. I don’t feel good” he said pulling the covers up to his chin and shivering.

Jenn pressed her palm to his forehead, “You’re really hot, babe” she announced as she felt the heat radiating off of her boyfriend’s toasty forehead.

“I was in the beer distributor with a 6-pack in my hand then it suddenly hit me all at once. I left the beer and walked right out of the store. I have the chills so bad” he said, letting out a train of harsh coughs into his elbow.

Jenn frowned at Chris’ condition, “You don’t sound good” she said, standing up and walking into their en-suite bathroom.

Seconds later, she returned with a wet rag, a thermometer, and a package of Tylenol. She walked over to the bed and set down the Tylenol. Then, took a seat on the edge of the bed, holding the digital thermometer in one hand, the wet rag in another.

“Sit up,” she commanded, holding the thermometer up in the air. Chris opened his eyes again and complied with her directions. Jenn fixed the two pillows behind him to give him a comfortable sitting arrangement.

“Open” she said and slipped the instrument under his tongue, running her hand through his matted hair and waited for the thermometer to beep.  

As soon as it beeped, she gently slid it out and read the temperature. Meanwhile, Chris turned to his side to release another series of harsh coughs.

She frowned instantly as she read 102.2 flashing on the screen. “Oof. We’re staying home tonight” she explained with disappointment, turning the thermometer to show Chris the results.

“Fuck. I don’t know how I got so sick” he said, hoarsely pulling the covers back up to his chin.

Jenn smirked. “I think I have an idea” she said, thinking back to a couple of days ago. The weather was finally feeling like Fall with the crisp cold air and a cold front lingering. It was the first football game of the semester, and they met up with their group of friends to cheer on the team.  

Jenn was bundled up in her puffer jacket and Chris wore a light flannel. Before they left the apartment, Jenn said to him “Wear your coat, you’ll catch a cold” which Chris passed off. “I’ll be fine. I won’t get cold” he assured her.

“Next time, you’ll wear a jacket” she said pursing her lips. Chris rolled his eyes at her and coughed into his elbow wincing at the pain it caused to his throat.

 “I’ll get you better. Promise” she said kissing his forehead then turning toward the nightstand and opening the package of Tylenol. She shook the package and handed Chris two tablets and pulled out her reusable water bottle from her tote bag that lay next to the nightstand.

“Thank you” he whispered. Jenn smiled and pressed the wet rag to his forehead when he was done drinking the water.

“Get some rest. I’ll make some soup and text Owen the bad news. Love you” she said softly patting his leg.

Chris yawned and closed his eyes, curling up with the mountain of covers and drifted off to sleep.

#my ocs #chris x jenn #chris and jenn #fever #forehead kisses #sickfic #sick character #sickfic writer #sicktember 2023 #sicktember #sick characters #fever whump #wear your coat you'll catch a cold #flu sickfic #i don't know how i got so sick #whumpee #whump #whump writing #whump community #sickfic community #one shot

[bingothedingo666]

When your snusband is feeling under the weather so you go full spa-mode

I love the HC that Crowley turns snakey when he's ill or in pain. Luckily he has an angel to take care of him ☺️.

Click to full size for better image quality, Tumblr deep fried the thumbnails.

#ya girl loves her sickfics lemme tell you #i see my favorite characters and i immediately give them the flu #for fluff purposes #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #my art #fanart #sick #caretaking

[vangh17a]

whoops made a part 2 Didn't feel right if I didn't add this part of the (totally not) current events

since its the flu it just means we gotta... sit and wait it out. At least it makes for silly projection doodles

Part 1

#my art #standalone comics #uhh #I don't have a name for this #I blame the flu meds lmao #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt #rottmnt leo #rottmnt raph #sickfic #ig?? #I might do a pt 3 even

[jurassicsickfics]

Body Aches Sickfic Prompts🤒😫:

1: Constantly clinging to caretaker because everything hurts, they're miserable, and they don't know what to do with themselves.

2: Crying any time something cold touches their sensitive body.

3: Being extra sensitive to bumping into things, or to rough touch.

4: Just straight up inconsolable crying because they feel bad all over and they're just fed up.

5: Cuddling with caretaker in a warm shower/bath.

6: Being fed pain meds by caretaker.

7: Whining while getting a massage from caretaker, because even the lightest touch hurts.

8: Curled up in bed, not wanting to move and swaddled in blankets.

9: Being super uncomfortable on a car ride because every bump is painful.

10: Making a bed for themselves in whatever the warmest room in the house happens to be.

#sicknario #sickfic prompts #sickfic #body aches #flu prompts #the flu #everything huuuuuuurts #fluffy prompts

[bellysoupset]

Vince sick with the flu at Wendy's birthday

Vince knew he was bound to catch the bug after being so terribly exposed, he had just been counting on the fact he had gotten the stomach flu back in the end of January and hoping this meant he was immune.

No such luck.

Not only he had definitely caught the bug, judging by how upset and gurgly his belly felt, but he had caught it on Wendy's birthday. He wanted to cry.

"Are you alright?" His father asked, looking up from the dishes he was doing when Vince groaned, tugging at the roots of his hair.

"I think I caught the stomach bug that's going around the school," he answered and Giuseppe frowned, drying his hands on the dishcloth and walking closer.

His palm was cold against Vince's forehead, all soft thanks to age, "you're a little warm, piccolino," he hadn't called Vin that since his son had outgrown him.

"That's just great," Vince sighed, leaning slightly on his dad's touch. He wanted nothing more than to go upstairs and crawl up into his childhood bed, let his family fuss over him, but instead he had to hit the road. There was no way he was going to miss Wen's birthday.

They had already talked the night before, video called at midnight so he could wish her happy birthday, and texted in the morning, Wendy sending excited updates about everything.

Her parents had sent her a huge breakfast basket with flowers and she had gotten a bunch of chocolate from patients, which Wendy was over the moon about as it was her first time getting gits from patients.

She was going to have lunch with Bella, Jonah, Barbie and Megan and then the party was going to be at night, at a rooftop and Vince knew for a fact that Jon had gotten fireworks for her as a surprise.

"I have to get going," Vin forced himself to pull back and stand up. As soon as he stood up, he felt all sorts of woozy, so Vin grabbed the wall behind him and breathed through his mouth until the slight vertigo faded away.

Giuseppe's silver eyebrows were up, blue eyes scanning him, "you're planning on driving like this? No, you're not."

"Babbo, I can't not go," Vince sighed, "I'm gonna drive slow, I promise. And text you as soon as I get there."

His father didn't look one bit pleased, "at least take some medicine before you go..." he mumbled, looking nervous about the prospect.

Although the old man looked fearful, he did let Vin go, without telling Ma about the fact he was sick, something Vince was very grateful for. There was no way his mother was going to be this cool about him getting in the motorcycle when feeling that woozy.

By the time Vince entered the big city, he was freezing. It was only partially due to the fever, it was the last day of February, so it wasn't exactly warm to begin with.

He had the key to Wen's apartment and she, thankfully, still wasn't home, so Vince headed straight to the bathroom. His reflection was a sight, his skin had gone from its usual light olive tone straight into green territory, all pale and with dark circles around his eyes. His lips were devoid of color and his hair had flattened down around his head, clinging to his clammy skin.

"Looking handsome," Vince grumbled, planting his hands on the sink and taking a steadying breath as his stomach gurgled uncomfortably. The nausea was taking its sweet pace building and currently he was covered in goosebumps, his mouth feeling sticky and sweet.

Vin stumbled into the shower area and turned up the hot water, hoping to wash away the look of sickness. He had very little energy, so he just stood under the stream, letting the water do most of the work.

He washed his hair and then gagged when the scent of conditioner hit his nose, making him rush to wash it off. It was to no avail, and Vince leaned over the drain, retching softly until a thin stream of watery puke came up.

It brought no relief whatsoever, but his stomach's muscles relaxed, leaving him still just as nauseated and unable to barf. Vince groaned, washing away the evidence and his face all over again.

Once he stepped out of the bathroom, with Wen's large lilac towel wrapped around his waist, Vince opened a smile as he saw Wen had left an outfit picked out on top of the bed.

He put on the boxers and the social pants and was sitting on the edge of the bed, struggling to tie his social shoes since the position squeezed his tummy, when Wendy opened the bedroom door.

"Oh hi..." she sounded all breathless and Vince didn't have to force a smile. His girlfriend stood at the doorway of her bedroom, with her hair in rollers and a pink robe.

"Hi birthday girl," Vince grinned, "c'mere-" he got up to kiss her and Wendy's whole face turned pink as she promptly wrapped her arms around his neck, getting on her tippy toes.

They stumbled back inside the bedroom and Vince bit down a groan as he felt Wendy climb his lap, still kissing him fiercely. He moved his face, planting a kiss on her neck and squeezing her on a hug.

"I missed you," Vince whispered, planting a kiss on her shoulder, pushing her robe out of the way, "I missed you so much."

Wendy let out a pleased sigh, pulling back and running her fingers through his humid hair, "I missed you too," she pressed her forehead to his, "I almost wish we could just stay in bed."

Vince snorted at that, patting her ass so she'd get off his lap, "no, you don't, you'd never miss your own party."

She blushed as he read her so easily, then climbed off of him, "I'm just gonna take a quick shower, can't get the hair wet. Are you almost done?"

Almost, he just really needed to throw up first, Vince thought, but kept his happy smile on.

"Yeah, pretty much. Take your time, though," he kissed her temple and swatted her ass, "I'm gonna go get your gift."

"My gift?" Wendy's voice went up at least two notes as she smiled and Vince rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, your gift," he steered her to the bathroom, "c'mon, you don't wanna be late."

He had left Wendy's gift in his backpack and Vince went to the living room to retrieve it, while buttoning up his shirt. She had picked a deep red button up, her favorite color on him.

Vince sat on the couch as he heard the shower running, allowing his mask to slip and wrapping an arm around his stomach. Even though he had left his belt quite lose and not yet tucked in the shirt, he already felt like he was being squeezed by it all.

His intestines were gurgling something fierce and when Vin pressed on his warm, sensitive belly, he felt a burp sneak up his throat. Airy and with no sound, but turning wet at the end. Vin snapped his mouth shut, swallowing back the urge to gag.

He felt another shudder run up his spine and Vince pressed his eyes closed, valiantly fighting a cramp- Then he heard the bathroom door open and immediately pulled himself together, pushing everything out of his mind and getting up.

Wendy was already in her shapewear, pulling out a deep magenta dress from her closet. She had removed her hair from the rollers and they fell around her heart shaped face like old Hollywood waves.

"You look great," Vince smiled, leaning against the bedroom's doorway, "you look gorgeous."

Wendy opened a big smile, then she caught a glimpse of the simple black box in his hands and raised her eyebrows, "what is it?"

"Turn around," Vince stepped closer, holding the large square box. He was quite nervous about it, actually. It hadn't been cheap, but it was nowhere near what a girl like her was used to. He knew Wendy was the Harry Winston and Cartier sort, so he was really nervous about buying her jewelry.

Vince put the necklace around her neck and planted a kiss on top of her head as she looked at her reflection in the closet mirror, "what do you think?"

It was a simple white gold necklace, with a flower pendant made of four rubies and the center a topaz.

Wendy didn't say a thing, leaning in to inspect it and Vince cringed, feeling a whole new layer of nausea wash over him.

"I know it's no Tiffany's or whatever, but-"

"I love it," she interrupted him, glaring at him in the mirror, "it's stunning."

Vince's cheeks burned and he fidgeted uncomfortably, as Wendy smoothed the necklace against her collarbones and opened a pleased smile.

"I really love it, Vin," she turned around to hug him by the waist and tilted her head back, opening a blinding smile, "thank you."

"You're not just saying that? Because its from a local jewelry shop, so you can definitely exchang-"

"I love it," she shook her head, squeezing him, "and it matches my dress."

Vince let out a scoff, biting down a burp as Wendy's head pressed to his upset stomach. He gulped down, keeping a hand in the middle of her naked back and breathing through the queasiness.

There was no way he was going to make it through the night without puking, Vin thought, as Wendy moved in his arms and planted a kiss to his tummy, pulling back.

"I'm just gonna do my make up and we can go," she said happily, putting on her heels and Vince forced a smile.

"Alright, I'm gonna wait in the living room."

The party was in the same rooftop Vince remembered being for Jonah's birthday, when Wendy had gotten sick due to a migraine. It was ironic she had picked it, given how horrible he was feeling.

Vince was practically wincing as Wendy intertwined their fingers together and pulled him as she checked with the staff everything was alright.

He was bouncing a leg nervously up and down and Wen let out a chuckle as she noticed that, "it's just our friends," she misinterpreted his nervousness, grabbing a champagne flute and pushing it in his hands, "you have nothing to be nervous about."

Vince offered her a strained smile, but that wasn't exactly true. Wendy was a social butterfly and he knew for a fact it was not a party just for Jonah, Luke, Bell and Leo. Half the hospital would be there, as well as all the girls she knew from yoga and from other courses. Barbie, Megan, whom Vince had met before, but they still made him nervous. Other people he had no idea how Wendy got acquainted with.

He wanted to die as the place started to fill up and his head continued to swim. Vince couldn't pay attention to anything that was being said, but thankfully his participation in small talk was all but optional.

He was feeling clammy all over as the little canapes started to circulate on top of trays.

Wendy squeezed his arm, "are you hungry?" she tilted her head to look at him and Vin promptly shook his head, almost stumbling back as it made the room spin.

Just the mere thought of putting anything in his stomach made more sickness splash up and he gulped down, "No-" his voice came out all hoarse and Vince cleared his throat, "no, I'm just warm. I'm gonna go outside for some air, okay?"

Wendy pouted slightly, "are you alright...?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Vince squeezed her hand in his, "talk with your friends, I'm just gonna get some air and I'll be back," he promised and she opened a bright smile, turning around and squealing as she caught sight of Jonah entering the room.

Vince turned around and bolted.

It was not lost on him that once upon a time he had found Wendy hunched over the same rail. He pressed his tummy to the iron rail and forced up a sick burp, but nothing came up with it.

Vince groaned, squeezing the metal and feeling like he was about to collapse. His legs were shaking and he couldn't stop swallowing down, his mouth pooling with saliva.

Another burp snuck up on him and Vin whimpered, feeling his eyes sting. He hated this, he wanted to be having fun with Wendy, not almost ruining her party.

A hand came to rest on his back and Vince shuddered, knowing who it was without even looking back, "fucking kill me, Luke."

"What's wrong?" Luke's voice was impossibly soft and Vince tipped to the side, leaning against his best friend's chest. He was freezing, he wanted all warmth he could get.

"Stomach flu..." Vince groaned as his stomach flipped again, "gonna be sick..."

"Okay, think you can make it inside? To the bathroom?" Luke squeezed his nape, rolling his thumb in a comforting manner. Vin took in a deep breath.

"Don't-" he gulped down as a gag interrupted him, "don't want Wendy to see me-"

"Buddy, the chances of her seeing you here are way higher," Luke squeezed him a little tighter, "lean on me, okay? We're gonna speed walk."

"M'kay," Vince slumped almost completely and heard Lucas let out a little huff at his weight, but he didn't let go. He was so dizzy, he didn't actually see a thing as they moved back inside the restaurant area, only heard the noise escalate and then get low once more, as Luke pushed him inside the bathroom.

Vince stumbled, bracing against the sink and Lucas let out a sigh, "c'mere," he wrapped an arm around Vin's chest, steering him towards the toilet and Vince immediately fell to his knees, leaning over the bowl and panting.

His stomach hurt with how much it was churning and finally he let out a weak gag and felt everything he had eaten since morning rush up his throat.

Vince groaned as the sheer amount seemed to suffocate him, coughing and groaning as it stung his nose. He spat in the bowl, blindly reaching to flush it, but his arms were too shaky and that almost caused his chin to hit the porcelain, wasn't it for Luke wrapping an arm around his chest.

"I got you, I got you," Lucas reassured him, before flushing the toilet, "done?"

"Nu-uh," Vince gagged, spitting once again. He had never felt so nauseous in his life, what the hell was this bug?

"Jesus, dude..." Luke groaned when Vince let out another gurgly burp, which quickly morphed into a violent heave and even more puke rushed up and splattered in the bowl.

Lucas moved so he was crouching practically next to him, planting a hand on Vince's forehead and keeping him from taking a dive in the toilet as the heaves continued to rock him. He cringed as he could feel the crazy heat under his palm, it was shocking Vince had been able to play off as healthy for so long with a fever like this.

"Okay, okay, big breath," Luke rubbed his back as Vin let out a whimper and swayed on the spot, bracing against the stall wall and causing the entire thich plastic structure that separated the cubicles to tremble.

"Fuck," Vince breathed out, squeezing his eyes and massaging his chest. His hands were trembling and tears had run down his cheek, he also looked terribly pale, "this isn't a stomach bug, it's some plague."

"It looks like it, yeah," Lucas flushed the toilet again, grabbing a bunch of toilet paper and passing it to Vince, "you good?"

"For now..." Vince wiped his mouth, blowing his nose, "but my stomach is still churning and I feel like I'm gonna shit my pants."

Luke wrinkled his nose in distaste, getting up from the floor, "you need to go home-"

"I can't go to Wendy's, it's her birthday," Vince whined, "I'm not gonna ruin her night-"

"No, you're coming to my place," Luke rolled his eyes, "can you just sit there and not die? I'm gonna let Bell know-"

"Oh god, Bella-" Vince groaned, curling up as much as he could in the small space and Lucas let out a sigh.

"Just don't die, alright? I'll see if she can go home with Wen and you come with me- Don't die," then he turned around and ran out of the bathroom.

Vince sighed, leaning his head back against the hard plastic and trying to find any strength to get up and wash his face. He hated himself for going anywhere close Daniels last week.

There was a gurgle through his stomach and Vince squeezed his belly, breaking in cold sweat. He let out a sickly little burp, getting on all fours and struggling force himself up, swaying so much he nearly smashed his head against the stall wall.

Vince fell down on the toilet, tugging on his social pants and clumsily reaching for the door and locking it, before managing to push down his pants just in time for the runs to hit him.

He wrapped both arms around his tummy, pressing his eyes closed and sniffling pitifully. The cramps were killing him and to make matters worse he was starting to feel nauseous all over again, the curled up position forcing up sickly little burps.

Vince gulped down, breathing slowly through his mouth as the woozy sensation only seemed to get worse. Then there was a knock on the door and his head snapped up, colorful little spots dancing on the corner of his sight.

"Occupied!"

"Vin, it's me," Luke said and he could've cried. In fact, judging by the way his throat was hurting and he could feel his eyes burning, he was pretty sure he was.

"Gimme- Give me a minute..." he groaned, "just wait."

"Okay, yeah, no problem," Lucas said hurriedly and Vince assumed he probably could hear the pleading in his voice, since he didn't fight him.

Vince wiped the cold sweat from his brow once again, taking slow measured breaths as he cleaned up and then got out of the stall, stumbling to the sink in order to wash his hands and his face.

He looked dreadful. Vince made a little pray that Wendy was across the rooftop and didn't get a glimpse at him, because he looked pretty close to a corpse.

He dried the cold water from his face, before all but collapsing against the bathroom's main door, pressing his forehead to it, "Luke."

"Yeah?" Lucas' voice was very clear, as if he was glued to the door and Vince thanked his stars for that.

"I think I'm gonna faint..." his lips felt numb, this wasn't good. The second the weak words made out of his mouth, the door opened. Just in time, because Vince's knees buckled and Luca caught him by the armpits, letting out a grunt as he almost went down with Vin.

"Christ, Vin-" Luke's hand pushed his hair back, patting his cheek, "hey man, I need you to help me here or I'm gonna drag your ass to the hospital."

Vince shook his head, angrily forcing his eyes open and trying to think through the fog, "Wendy-"

He jumped as there was a loud noise, followed by squeals, just outside the private hallway that led to the bathrooms. Luke stiffened his hold around him, only to let out a nervous chuckle.

"It's Jon's fireworks. We should go."

"Uhmm," Vince nodded, grabbing on Luke's arm, "I'm gonna hurl on you."

"I know," Lucas forced him up, voice all strained, "but outside of here, deal?"

"Deal," Vince almost chuckled, pressing his feverish forehead to Luke's shoulder and allowing him to rush them out of the fancy restaurant.

#sidenote: i know vince is sicilian but giuseppe isn't so his children use babbo even tho that's a northern italian thing not sicilian #ended up posting it all in one thing bc i'm lazy #mywriting #vince monacelli #stomach flu #sickfic #emeto #emetophilia #maybe i'll do a part 2 even tho this is huge already #idc i'm having too much fun lol

[somber-sapphic]

Hi I was wondering if you could do the sicktember 24. “Did you just sneeze?” - Yelena x Sick Reader.

Little Kitten

〖Summary: Yelena teases you for the way you sneeze.〗

〖Word Count: 550〗

〖Pairing: Yelena x Sick Reader〗

〖Notes: I would greatly appreciate if everyone is nice about this one, I will admit that Yelena is not my best character and I'm working to get better at her characterization.〗

〖Translation: котенок = kitten (according to google translate; I don't speak Russian, I'm sorry if it's wrong)〗

☾Masterlists☽

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Did you just…sneeze?” Yelena asked, incredulous at the small kittenish sound you had just made. You pouted at her and grabbed a tissue that you used to paw at your nose. Her face split into a grin as she watched your movements, noting that even those were strangely catlike. 

 “Lena,” You whined, sniffing in a rather pathetic way. “Le’me alone, I don’ feel good.” A permanent pout had settled on your lips since this mind-numbing cold had started and you felt rather pitiful. 

To her credit, Yelena had been doing a surprisingly good job at taking care of you. She wouldn’t win any awards for being the most nurturing person, but she made sure you ate, drank water, took your meds, and supplied you with more tissues than you’d ever need. She even cuddled with you when you asked, though the act was performed with a lot of grumbling about germs. 

You didn’t blame her, this was a monster of a cold that had you laid up in bed for three days already, days that felt like weeks. It had hit you hard and fast, one night you were fine and the next morning you were an absolute mess. 

Your head ached. Every part of you ached, your nose was stuffy, and you had a low-grade fever that was just enough to make your bones hurt. You’d developed a cough the day before that was clinging to your chest, making it feel heavy. Concerns of bronchitis had floated across your mind for a moment, but you didn’t feel well enough to care. 

If it was bronchitis Yelena was making sure you were doing what you needed to combat it and you were pretty sure she wouldn’t let you die. Not like that anyway, that would be rude of her. 

“Fine, but that was cute. Do you need anything?” she asked, still chuckling. The little smile on her face would have been sweet if it hadn’t come at your expense. You glared at her and crossed your arms over your chest, huffing your frustration. Not only were you plain old tired, but you were tired of being sick. 

“No.” You muttered, staring with dead eyes at the TV. You weren’t sure what was playing but the bright light was annoying you. Everything was annoying you. You were mad about being sick, mad that TV was boring, mad that your nose was running, mad that your throat hurt. Mad mad mad. 

“Okay grumpy, why don't you go sit on the couch and I’ll make you something to eat? We’ve got some great boxed mac and cheese.” she offered, trying to guess what you were thinking. She was right of course, the most frustrating thing about your current situation was that all you had eaten was soup. You were so done with soup. 

“Fine.” You took in a quick breath and sneezed again, making the same sound as earlier. Yelena laughed and leaned over to kiss your forehead, the bed shifting with her weight. 

“Rest котенок. Food will be ready when you are.” As she left you allowed yourself a small smile. You were touched by her warmth, something saved only for you. She had such a hard exterior, which made sense considering what she had been through, and her caring held a different level of meaning. 

#sickfic #fever #fanfiction #sick fanfiction #marvel sickfic #sick reader #fever whump #yelena x you #yelena black widow #yelena belova #avengers sickfic #sick fanfic #sick whump #minor whump #flu #marvel fanfiction #yelena x y/n #yelena x reader #yelena x sick reader

[yelenabemylova]

Flu- Natasha Romanoff x Maria Hill x Reader

summary: you have the flu, but luckily your girlfriends are more than willing to take care of you

a/n: the fourth wall break is a little ongoing joke between my old readers and i, don't worry if you don't understand it, this is a very old one-shot

You lay asleep in your bed, curled up under a huge pile of blankets, dreaming of all the ways you could kill a certain archer when you began to stir awake. You peaked out from under the blankets and saw Natasha getting ready to go train.

You put your arms out and tried to call her name but your voice was completely gone due to the nasty flu you had come down with. She was facing away from you so she didn't see you. Maria gave her a soft kiss, "love you." The ginger smiled, "love you too."

After Natasha had left, Maria looked over to you lying in bed with a small pout on your face. "What's wrong, baby?" she kissed your head. "Nat didn't say bye," you quietly said, coughing immediately after. Maria rubbed your back softly, "we thought you were asleep, I'm sure if she knew you were awake she would've come to say goodbye to you."

Nodding in agreement, you attempted to pull Maria into bed with you, resting your head on her chest before drifting off to sleep again. She pulled the blankets back over you, keeping you protected and warm.

After a few hours, Natasha came back to your room, smiling when she saw her two favourite people cuddled up in bed together. She had a quick shower before getting in bed behind you, her chest against your back.

You shuffled back into her embrace, Maria pulling you back closer to her. Natasha draped an arm over your waist, doing the same, making you wake up. You realised what they were doing and giggled before turning round to face the redhead and pulling her close to you.

"Good morning," she whispered to you. Smiling up at her, you opened your blanket to let her into your cocoon of warmth. She gladly accepted your offer and hugged you tightly. "Come back," Maria muttered from behind you.

You turned round and she kissed the top of your head before kissing Natasha on the lips. You pouted up at her, making her chuckle, "I don't want to get the flu, I have work to do." You frowned and turned away from her, only to be met by a smirking Natasha.

Sometimes having two girlfriends had it's downsides.

You groaned and went to get out of bed before they both pulled you back down. "Let me go," you tried to tell them. "Sorry didn't catch that," Maria grinned. You scowled and went under your blankets, pulling them off of Natasha.

Clint walked in the room, not bothering to knock, "have any of you guys seen Lucky?" Maria and Natasha shook their heads and he raised an eyebrow at the ball on the bed, "what's up with her." The brunette chuckled, "I think she's mad at us."

He walked over to you and was about to open his mouth when you cut him off, though your voice was frail they still all heard you, "fuck off Clint." He was quick to pull all your blankets off you, making you whine quietly.

"Hey, that was unnecessary," Natasha grabbed them back and placed them back over your shivering body gently. "She deserved it," he shrugged. "Well you deserve the pencil I'm about to shove up your ass," she lunged at him before Maria quickly held her back.

"As much as I would love to see that happen, the readers are complaining about all the Clint slander and I think we need to tone it down a notch," she sighed. "Fine, but we're going back to normal after this chapter," Natasha huffed.

Clint backed out the room slowly, happy to be free from the wrath of the scariest people in the compound, for now at least.

You stayed under your blankets, shaking from the cold air you were exposed to. Both of your girlfriends curled their bodies around yours and you let them under your blankets, but only because you were cold. You were still mad about them not wanting to kiss you, although you did understand why.

Natasha pulled off her hoodie and put it on you, engulfing you in heat and her familiar scent of vanilla and cinnamon. "Love you, detka," she kissed the tip of your nose before you drifted back off to sleep in her protective embrace.

#marvel #natasha romanoff x reader #avengers #fluff #maria hill x reader #blackhill #blackhill x reader #natasha romanoff x maria hill #natasha x maria x reader #ybml writes #flu #sickfic

[sickficideas]

gin with the sick akutagawa insight...this makes me sad 😭 he is so in denial

and bonus: (so true)

#nothing makes me sad more than the fact that she doesnt even know hes dying i pretend its not real #sickly akutagawa real and thats why i love him #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd #gin #akutagawa #higuchi #illness #sick #ill #flu #canon sickfic content #tachihara #forgot hes there too sorry king #chronic illness #terminal illness

[echo-goes-mmm]

Ambrose and Elliot #18

Masterpost

Previous

Next

Warnings: sickness

Elliot had an itch in his throat. At first he thought it was leftover from screaming during James’s visit, but that was a while ago and it hadn’t gone away. 

He kept on with his chores regardless. It was his place to serve, and a little cold shouldn’t stop him. Master had been rewarding him at the end of every day with a shiny gold coin and Elliot didn’t want to disappoint him. It would be just as bad as the beating that would follow.

He was tired now, too. It wasn’t the satisfying kind that he’d gotten used to after a day of being a good boy. Instead of sleeping pleasant and deep, he tossed and turned at night. Cold and hot all at once, and his beloved blanket wasn’t doing its job. It wasn’t fair. Elliot had been eating more than he’d ever gotten before. He slept well. He had no open wounds (the scratches had faded just like Ambrose said), so there was nothing to infect. It wasn’t fair!

And it wouldn’t be fair to Master Ambrose to stop working. So he didn’t.

___________________

He couldn’t get out of bed. Oh gods, he couldn’t get out of bed.

The fire had gone out during the night, and the fall air chilled him. He shivered, burrowing into the quilt, blanket, and pillows. His jaw barely creaked open enough to breathe, as his nose was clogged. Why did everything hurt? His limbs weighed him down and his muscles protested at the slightest movement.

Light began to filter through the windows. Dawn was approaching. His room faced the sunrise, and it was too bright. Just yesterday, he’d cleaned the windows and now he couldn’t get up to draw the curtains closed. How pathetic. 

He watched the beams of light grow longer on his floor. Master Ambrose would be awake soon. Please help me. 

___________________

Elliot wasn’t up and about yet. Odd. He wasn’t in the kitchen, or the dining room, or even outside watching the sunrise. 

Ambrose knocked on the bedroom door. He heard a faint whine from behind the wood.

“Ellie,” he called, turning the knob, “I’m coming in, sweetheart.”

Elliot was bundled in both his quilt and blanket. Shivering and squinting, he panted and looked absolutely awful. The fire was out, and cold. 

Ambrose crossed the room, closing the curtains. Dimming the light would help Elliot’s obvious headache. 

He arranged a few logs in the fireplace, striking a flint to light them. He would need to bring more wood from a neighboring room later.

___________________

“Oh Ellie,” said Master, sitting on the edge of his bed. “I’m so sorry.” 

Master’s cool hand brushed away his sweaty hair to take his temperature. Master tutted, and guilt swirled in his gut. If Ambrose wasn’t panicked, it must not be that bad. If it wasn’t that bad, Elliot should be working. 

He tried getting up, but Master Ambrose gently pushed him back onto the bed.

��None of that, love. Just stay in bed, and I’ll take care of everything.” Elliot was relieved. Now he could rest and obey at the same time. He’d make it up to Master later.

He let Ambrose rearrange the blankets, untangling them from between his legs. The fire was already warming the room and the pleasantness made his eyelids heavy. 

___________________

Ambrose let Elliot doze as he tiptoed down the stairs. Luckily, he’d made and canned a huge batch of chicken stock for soup season. Made with roasted chicken bones and bits with peppercorns, bundles of herbs, garlic, and vegetables, the hearty stock would be perfect for Elliot. And it would provide some fluid and nutrients. 

He grabbed a pint from the storeroom and set to work. He drizzled some oil in a copper pot and set the heat. Ambrose minced some garlic and ginger and tossed it in the pot. Ginger would help reduce the croaking pain in Elliot’s throat. He diced an onion while the aromatics became fragrant. He added the onion and gave it a stir. Ambrose uncapped the pint of stock, and carefully plopped it into the pot. It was so rich, it had partially congealed. Perfect.

Ambrose held off on adding potatoes. They would be fine for Elliot if cut small enough, but Ambrose knew swallowing would be tough for him. Better to start off with a thinner soup and gradually thicken it as Elliot recovered. Instead, he added some cream for protein. A generous amount of salt, and it was nearly ready.

Soon it was the perfect temperature and the scent was delightful. He ladled a portion into a wooden bowl and carried it up to Elliot’s room.

___________________

Elliot tried to sleep, but the rumble of his stomach kept the fuzziness in his brain from working. The ache in his joints was uncomfortable, and he just wanted everything to go away. He felt so heavy.

“Love, I’m coming in,” said Master.

Elliot saw the bowl and spoon as Master entered. His stuffy nose kept him from smelling anything, but even the promise of food made his mouth water. Master Ambrose sat the bowl on his nightstand, and helped him sit up. Ambrose even propped up the pillows to keep his head from lolling, and Elliot was too tired to even feel ashamed for being useless. 

___________________

He couldn’t lift the spoon. Damn. He should have thought of that.

Elliot stared at the soup, despair on his face. Elliot was so fond of food, and for good reason. Sympathy panged in Ambrose’s heart. It must be killer for Elliot to be so close and yet unable to eat without assistance. 

Ambrose put the bowl to Elliot’s lips, tilting it ever so slightly. He’d intentionally made it just warm enough to eat right away, thank goodness. Elliot drank, his eyes fluttering. After a moment, Ambrose pulled away to let him breathe. 

The look Elliot gave him was halfway murderous and it was almost comical if it weren’t for everything else. 

“I don’t want you to choke,” explained Ambrose, and Elliot settled down. Hiccups wouldn’t help either. They were unpleasant if your throat was raw. 

Ambrose fed him until the bowl was empty. Elliot had finished it quickly, drinking it down as greedily as a bottle-fed lamb. 

“Let’s wait to see how your stomach does,” said Ambrose. “I’ll get you more if you can keep it down, okay?”

Elliot gave him a small smile; he understood. 

“Do you want to sleep?” 

“Mhm.”

Ambrose helped him lay down again. He’d have to stay by Elliot’s side today. Thankfully it was the third day of the week, so he didn’t have to put out notice that he had closed.

But as he grabbed a book from his shelves and went back to Elliot’s side, he wondered. How did he get sick so fast? He understood why Elliot was hit so hard; he was still not physically recovered from before, and the stress of the recent fight must have contributed. But these things didn’t happen overnight. 

He watched Elliot’s chest rise and fall. The soup had loosened his stuffy nose a little, but he still couldn’t breathe through it. Ambrose would have to whip up some medicine to make that easier.

If Elliot had hidden his developing sickness from him, Ambrose needed to know. He’d ask as soon as Elliot could tell him.

___________________

Elliot’s fever broke as he slept, but a cough had taken its place. Ambrose dashed downstairs and hastily made a salve for Elliot’s chest. It was a sticky thing, full of strong scented herbs that would help Elliot breathe. 

Carefully, he pulled back the bedclothes and reached under Elliot’s nightshirt. The salve was still warm as he didn’t wait for it to set. He smeared a generous amount on Elliot. 

He barely stirred at the touch. It worried Ambrose, but at least he was sleeping. 

___________________

Elliot woke up groggy. His head was stuffed with cotton but he could breathe a bit better. Ambrose sat next to him, a book in his hands. He had stayed, and that meant the world to him.

“How are you feeling?” asked Ambrose, setting aside the book. 

“Better,” he croaked. And then he coughed and Ambrose sighed a little. His shirt stuck to his chest when he coughed and it felt… sticky under there. Alarmed, he clutched at his shirt and looked down. No blood. And hey, his arm was responding now. But what was it?

“What- what’s on-” he coughed again. 

“Just some breathing cream. I’m sorry I didn’t wake you to put it on. You needed to rest.”

Oh. That was nice. It seemed to be working, at least.

“Do you want some more soup?”

“Mhm.”

___________________

The next few days were a blur of tissues and various teas and soups. Elliot’s fever had returned a couple times, and scared the hell out of Ambrose. He’d even gone delirious at one point and begged Ambrose to let him go. It broke his heart.

Elliot had nightmares, too. Eventually Ambrose started reading to him, and that seemed to help.

His cough had gone from a dry nuisance to a wet hack but a steady treatment of the cream and hearty, steaming food kept the worst of it at bay. At one point he’d hacked up something green and nasty and the cough significantly diminished. 

Elliot kept everything he ate down, and Ambrose was proud to say Elliot hadn’t lost any weight while bedridden. 

By the third day, Elliot was up and moving. His cough was gone, and the weakness subsided into a simple tiredness that could be treated with an afternoon nap. The worst of it was over, and Elliot would be fine.

Thank the gods. 

taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain @secretwhumplair @paintedpigeon1 @whump-blog @whump-em @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @starfields08000 @littlespacecastle @mylovelyme @whump-cravings @zeewbee @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

#SICKFIC SICKFIC #i was ~inspired~ by both a spanish flu and a bubonic plague documentary #Ambrose doesnt get sick here bc he has an immune system with 100+ years experience and also is perpetually 25 years old #got that +75 advantage at 'resist disease' rolls #ambrose and elliot #my writing #whump #slavery whump

[boysbellyrubs]

Can we get Alistair with the stomach flu 🙏🙏

thanks for the ask, another anon also asked for this so here you go :)

—-

Alistair was used to getting stomach aches; he often ate food that he knew would upset his stomach, ate too much, or just was chosen that day to suffer with a tummy ache. He was very brave about it, okay! However, bravery was lost for this stomach ache. Along with an achy belly, he was feeling lightheaded, sweaty, nauseous and couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. There was no doubt about the fact that he was definitely sick.

He was unsure where he would have picked up a stomach bug. It could have been from stress, as right now his drama class were preparing for their annual production and he was one of the lead roles. The line learning stage had passed, but they were still touching up some of the blocking on some scenes, which meant he was focusing very hard to quickly write everything down before the director moved on. As he was writing, he could physically feel his pencil slipping in his grip; his sweaty hands making writing nearly impossible.

The others around him were already finished writing in their notes when he looked up, and were staring at him. He felt his insides curdle.

“Sorry, butter fingers today.” He joked. Most of the cast giggled a little, but the director was giving him a stern look. Alistair needed to pull himself together, he only had another hour to go. He could do this.

The scene played out more, and Alistair was now giving one of his monologues. He tried his best to not look down at his script, and project to the audience. Nikau was down there, watching him while he waited for his part. Alistair’s couldn’t help but move his eyes over to him, smiling and looking proud of his boyfriend.

“Alistair! Focus please, we need to see more emotion. It sounds like you’re reading from the script.” The director yelled, cutting off his words. He looked over to her, the room spinning. He stumbled a bit,

“Yep.” He quickly said, trying to keep his stomach in place. Standing up for so long was terrible for his head, his feet weren’t his own and he swore the stage lights were making little figure eight movements. Alistair looked down, desperately trying to compose himself. He wasn't about to have a ‘Pitch Perfect’ moment.

Thankfully, he got through his monologue without any more issues and he was allowed a break. He rushed off stage, one hand sitting gingerly on his belly and the other carding through his sweaty hair. Alistair felt like he was dying, the air around him was too warm and suffocating, the smell of old costumes and props filled his nostrils and he nearly gagged. Without even thinking, he went out the backstage door and into the carpark, breathing heavily through his nose.

The fresh air did wonders for his head, but now the smell of petrol and rubbish replaced the mothball stench and he doubled over with a hearty heave. Nothing came up. His chest seized and a cough sputtered out of his mouth. Alistair had to stabilise himself on the wall next to him, forehead meeting the cold concrete. Stomach now worked up, he felt his lunch bubble and churn inside him, desperate to be out.

He moaned, “Fuckk,” rubbing his stomach did little, he was going to throw up in this grotty car park like a drunk, “Where’s Nikau when I need him.”

Alistair was swallowing thickly and rapidly, holding back burps and gags like his life depended on it. The cool wall was doing little for his scorching fever and he forced himself to crouch down as the nausea ramped up to a 10. He whined, saliva gathering in his mouth. It hit him in an instant; a burp and then a loud gag and suddenly his lunch was splattered in front of him. When the first lot came out, it prompted everything else to and soon enough he was spitting up more vomit.

It burned his throat and chest, and his gags were throaty and knocked him off his feet. His knees hit the ground harshly, and he quickly caught himself with his hands, splashing into the puddle of vomit. He lost control and coughed up another round, disgusted with himself and the mess he was making. He wondered if any passersby were staring at him. Alistair groaned at his stomach churning, still nauseous and angry despite most of his lunch being in front of his face.

At least he had crouched down first before he got sick, with the way his head was spinning he didn’t think he would have been able to stand up properly. He was also thankful it was cloudy today; having the sun shining down on his overheating body would have tipped him over the edge.

Alistair spat a little before sitting back on his feet. His hands were splattered with sick, and he shook them a little before letting them sit palm up on his thighs. He was a pitiful sight. He swore he was swaying on the spot, ground sloshing around like the bile in his tummy. He thought about going back inside, but then made eye contact with his vomit soaked knees and thought maybe it was better to just stay out here. Perhaps he would die out here, covered in vomit. God what a sight that would be.

His stomach gurgled. It was still very upset and hurt like a bitch. Alistair threw his head back, closing his eyes as the cramp tore through his body. A lone raindrop landed on his forehead. Well, at least the rain could clean up his mess easily. More rain fell and soon Alistair was just sitting out in the rain, sick and tired. His classmates were probably wondering what he was doing. He didn’t really care. He just needed his bed, and maybe his boyfriend.

His boyfriend. Nikau was definitely wondering where he had gone. Alistair’s phone was in his back pocket, and with now semi clean hands he pulled it out. He flicked a text to Nikau and waited. The door flew open, hurting Alistair’s head. But then, he saw Nikau crouching down next to him, touching him all over and wiping away some of the hair stuck to his face.

“Oh my gosh, Star, have you been out here this whole time?” He looked at the remnants of vomit on the concrete, “Oh, jeez. I had a feeling. You didn’t look so good on stage.”

Alistair looked at him, giving a small smile, “Yeah. Feel awful,” His stomach chose that moment to gurgle and cramp again, and he winced. The rain was now starting to make him shiver, and he was pissed that his jeans were now wet, “Can you take me home?” Nikau nodded and muttered ‘yes’ before gently lifting Alistair up.

“You’ve got a bad fever, sweetheart. You’re like a heater.”

“Yeah.” He leaned into Nikau, using Nikau’s steps to make his own. He kept his eyes closed, needing the darkness to not throw up again. He heard the whispers of his classmates and tried his best to focus on Nikau’s hands.

He opened his eyes and recognised the carpet of the audience seating, and waited for Nikau to gather up all their stuff. The director came over to the two.

“Alistair? Where have you been?” She looked him up and down, noticing his saturated clothes.

Alistair shuffled his feet sheepishly, “I’m sorry, I’m not feeling very well Miss. I need to head home.” He said those words and she took a couple steps back, but spoke with a gentle tone.

“That’s okay. Email me if we need to call in your understudy.” Alistair saw a small smile on her face and then she was gone, shouting again at the rest of the cast. Nikau rubbed his arm with his knuckles,

“Ready to go?” Alistair nodded, turning to his boyfriend. Nikau guided him out of the door and to the car. It was bliss to sit down, and he leaned back in the seat. However, he wasn’t excited for the drive home.

“Try and drive careful?” He asked, already holding his belly. Nikau hummed in confirmation and set off.

As they were driving, Alistair could feel every little movement the car made and it translated to tidal waves in his brain. He was so dizzy. It was a mission to keep his head still, while also feeling like his stomach was going to explode out of him once again. Alistair’s hands were shaky and warm, fingers digging into his cramping stomach.

Because he had terrible luck, the underlying nausea turned into full blown nausea and he jolted in his seat. Suddenly, it felt like he was being thrown into lava and was seconds away from puking. He made a strangled noise in the back of his throat, hand tightly over his mouth. He heard Nikau curse, and then a bag was in his lap. Without questioning where he got it from, Alistair promptly puked into it. His back curled, his fingers held onto the bag like a lifeline.

The cars movement did nothing for him. No matter how hard he tried it felt like he was spinning, “Oh, Nikau, I’m-” he gagged, “everything is spinning.” He whined, unable to say anymore as he gagged again. Nikau had rolled the windows down, cool air washing over him. Alistair sat back as far as he could, holding the bag up to his mouth just in case. He needed stability.

“That’s it, Star. Just breathe. Relax, you’re sitting perfectly still.” Nikau’s words calmed him a little. He moaned as he felt the urge to gag again, and spat up a little more bile. He dropped one hand to his stomach, if he didn’t hold it he felt like it would slip out from inside him. The nausea slowly passed, and he was able to tighten off the top of the bag and hold it down by his feet.

“You good?” He was at a red light.

“Yeah, I think so.” Alistair murmured. His throat was scratchy and sore, his body was aching. He kept his eyes closed, and when that didn’t work he chose to look out the window. He kept his eyes locked on one spot in the horizon, and watched as the roads slowly got smaller and soon he was looking at their front door of their flat. Nikau’s hand was heavy on his knee.

“Come on, sickie. I know you’re feeling terrible.” Alistair whined at him. It was heavenly to finally get inside and lie down, with clean, comfy clothes and Alistair curled up on his side. The day’s events finally caught up to him and he felt his muscles slowly lose their tension. Nikau knelt down next to his face.

“I’m sorry to do this to you, but I wanna get some medicine in you. That fever is concerning,” He touched Alistair’s forehead, warm and sweaty. He tsked through his teeth, “You should’ve told me sooner you weren’t feeling good.”

Alistair murmured. Nikau was right, “Sorry. I thought I could get through rehearsal.” His head spun, a quick bout of vertigo forcing him to close his eyes.

“It’s okay. Are you dizzy?” Alistair nodded his head minutely, whining a little. He felt Nikau’s warm hands travel down his body and then he felt a kiss planted on his forehead.

Alistair felt Nikau’s presence disappear, and so he rolled onto his back gingerly, keeping his head still and placing a hand on his stomach. It was still hurting him, and was bloated and gross. The gurgles were sickly and he was probably going to be puking all night. Oh, he was so excited. Nikau returned, carrying the proper materials for a sick night. He gently forced Alistair to take some medicine, and then to make up for it, he lied down next to Alistair with the promise of rubbing his belly.

“I’m sorry you’re so sick, sweetheart.” Nikau whispered into Alistair’s hair.

“Mm, it sucks. But, you make me feel good.”

“Okay, I’m glad. Just rest, Star.”

#emeto #stomach ache #sickfic #emetophilia #vomiting #oc's #alistair #nikau #belly kink #belly rubs #stomach flu

[shion-yu]

A Safe Place (part 3) [day 18]

A feverish Cliff is seen in the emergency room. For @monthofsick Day 18 “Unfamiliar surroundings”. 2,965 words, original work, TWs emeto, hospital content.

Part 1 | Part 2 - I swear this was supposed to be 2 parts but now it’s gonna be 4? Lol whoops.

Elliot supported Cliff into the busy ER. It was a Saturday, of course there were a lot of people there, Elliot thought regretfully. Silly to hope otherwise. Elliot eased Cliff into a seat as close to the reception desk as possible and then checked Cliff in, presenting Cliff’s ID and health insurance card. He was grateful Cliff’s wallet and phone were the two things his boyfriend had actually brought with him when he left his parents’ house, although a jacket and his inhaler would have been useful third and fourth choices.

“What’s this visit for?” The receptionist asked after scanning the cards and handing them back to Elliot.

“My boyfriend is having trouble breathing,” Elliot said, hoping this concerned her as much as it concerned him. “He has asthma, he’s wheezing, and he has a high fever. He didn’t know who I was earlier.”

The receptionist stood up a little to catch a glimpse of Cliff in his seat, who did look like he was struggling. “Okay, we’ll get him triaged as soon as possible,” the receptionist said. Elliot chose to believe her for his own sanity’s sake. “In the meantime, have him wear a mask.”

Cliff sagged against Elliot when Elliot sat next to him. He was in no shape to do paperwork, so Elliot tried to fill it out as much as he could. Fifteen minutes passed. Cliff was whimpering in pain and his wheeze had grown louder. “Just a few more minutes, Cliffy,” Elliot said, hoping it wasn’t a lie. Thirty minutes passed. Cliff was now insisting he was fine after all, and that they ought to go home. But that was when he was lucid, which would last only a minute before he’d follow up by saying something that made very little sense and reminded Elliot exactly why they couldn’t leave. Finally, about forty minutes after they’d checked in, a nurse called Cliff’s name and brought them to a small room between the waiting room and the actual ER. Elliot repeated the story he’d given the receptionist although more aggressively this time as the nurse nodded and took Cliff’s vitals.

Elliot never wanted Cliff to be so sick. However, his vitals did prompt some action and for that Elliot was grateful. Cliff’s fever was 103.5 now, his oxygen running lower than expected at 92%, and his heart rate and blood pressure were both high. The nurse led them to a stretcher in a curtained off bay and told Cliff to change into a gown. Elliot had to help Cliff climb up, his boyfriend’s coordination poor. His hands were shaking too hard to button his own gown up, so Elliot did it for him.

“Don’t feel good,” Cliff mumbled, swaying even as he sat up on the stretcher.

“I know, just lie back,” Elliot said. “They’re gonna help you.”

Thankfully, this time they only waited about ten minutes before a new nurse came in with a small bucket full of supplies. She introduced herself as Anna and said she was going to insert an IV, take some blood, and hook Cliff up to oxygen and fluids. She was also going to swab Cliff for flu and strep, but Elliot explained the urgent care had already done that. “Well, this tests for some other stuff too, it’s a full respiratory panel. I’d recommend we just do it anyways.” Elliot agreed on Cliff’s behalf; Cliff seemed to be communicating only in nods at this point.

Nurse Anna looped some oxygen tubing over Cliff’s ears first and plugged it into the wall. She also attached a blood pressure cuff and oxygen probe that she said would stay on for now for monitoring. Elliot felt like all the devices only made Cliff look sicker. Anna swabbed Cliff’s nose, which made him cough harshly to the point of gagging, and then got ready to insert an IV.

Cliff looked to Elliot in panic, swallowing rapidly. ‘Faint,’ he mouthed to Elliot helplessly. “Um, I think he passes out when there’s needles,” Elliot spoke up for him. Cliff nodded gratefully.

“Well you’re in the right place if you do,” Nurse Anna said. She lowered the head of the stretcher and told Elliot to hold Cliff’s hand as she looked for a vein in his other arm. “I’ll go super quick,” she reassured them, and she was right. It was quick. But Cliff turned sheet white and got really sweaty and by the time she’d collected enough tubes of blood, flushed and secured the hub and hooked him up to a bag of fluids, Cliff was barely conscious. “Don’t worry, it happens,” she said. She put a pillow under Cliff’s legs and told him to breathe deeply through his nose. Elliot found her calm demeanor the only thing keeping him calm, because it seemed terrifying even if it was normal. Cliff followed her directions and eventually gained some color back. Anna said his blood pressure was coming back up and that he should just lie there with his feet up for a few more minutes, then left the room.

“I’m sorry,” Cliff apologized miserably for the tenth time since they’d come back here.

“Baby, please, stop apologizing,” Elliot told him. “You’re here because you have to be and you’re not doing anything bad or wrong. Just rest.”

Cliff’s eyes filled with tears and he covered them with his forearm. “I suck,” he whimpered, Elliot’s words clearly not having reached him as intended. Elliot sighed and put one hand on Cliff’s head to stroke his sweaty hair. It wasn’t worth fighting Cliff on this right now. Elliot just had to be there for him.

Cliff fell asleep to Elliot’s relief. Elliot texted his mom what was going on and hoped this wasn’t as bad as it felt. Cliff snored quietly until a woman came with a huge portable x-ray machine. “Sorry to wake you up,” she said, “Cliff? I’m here to get your x-ray. I’ll go fast.”

Cliff opened his eyes and stared blankly at her. Elliot wasn’t sure if Cliff knew what was going on at this point so he stroked Cliff’s arms and explained, “Cliff? She’s gonna take the pictures of your lungs now.” He helped the x-ray tech manipulate Cliff’s torso so that he was lying on a hard board. Elliot stood in the doorway while they did the films.

“Alright, take a nice deep breath for me and hold it,” the x-ray tech said. “I know, good job, got it. You can cough.” And cough Cliff did, that same desperate wet cough that had made Elliot’s mind up to bring him here. He managed to catch his breath, but it wasn’t over. “One more,” the tech said, moving the boards and machine around to point at Cliff’s side now. “Again. Deep breath. One, two, and good. Let it out.”

This time Cliff didn’t seem able to stop coughing. He coughed until each gasp sounded like a Herculean struggle and Elliot wasn’t sure that any of that air he was gulping in was actually reaching his lungs. The machine that was measuring Cliff’s oxygen levels started to beep and the tech told Elliot she was going to find the nurse. Elliot held on to Cliff and tried to soothe him, but it didn’t seem to work. Cliff just kept coughing until suddenly his eyes flew open and he spewed a sharp wave of vomit from his mouth all the way to the end of the stretcher. Elliot winced, pulling back and trying not to look at the mess. Cliff spluttered and coughed between additional harsh gags that produced little besides a stream of thick brown saliva that pooled in his lap. Elliot prayed the nurse would come in soon and hesitantly rubbed Cliff’s back. He didn’t know what to do and Cliff seemed frozen, unable to lift his head or close his mouth.

Thankfully the nurse showed up then and said, “Oh no!” Oh no was right, Elliot thought anxiously. “Did we just get coughing too hard?” She glanced at Cliff's oxygen levels and turned a small green dial on the wall, which made a quiet hissing noise for a second as the flow of oxygen increased. “Don’t worry hun, we’re going to get you cleaned up.” She found a change of sheets in one of the cupboards behind the stretcher and changed the blankets and top sheet in record time. She checked Cliff’s fluids which were nearly done and then charted standing in the room for a few minutes on her rolling computer.

Cliff was silent, hunched over holding a pink plastic basin in his lap in case of another incident, and Elliot couldn’t tell if he was just out of it or humiliated. The room still smelled of putrid stomach acid; Elliot breathed through his mouth. His phone dinged in his pocket and he saw an alarmed text from his mother. He didn’t have time to reply though, as the doctor walked in at that moment.

“Doctor Jim,” Anna greeted him politely, scooting her computer farther away from the bedside. “He just threw up coughing and I turned up his oxygen.”

“I’m not surprised,” Dr. Jim said. He looked to be in about his forties, was mostly bald and had tiny round glasses that looked too small for his face. “Cliff? I’m Jim, I’m a physician here. How are you doing today?”

Elliot thought that was a stupid question. Cliff looked at Dr. Jim with hazy eyes and mumbled, “Sick.”

“Well, that makes sense. You’ve got yourself a nasty case of double pneumonia,” Dr. Jim said. Elliot’s heart sank. “Has this ever happened to you before?”

Cliff shook his head no. He moved his hand to the edge of the bed that Elliot understood as a silent signal to hold it, which he did. “Well, I think it’s best if we admit you for observation overnight with the vitals you have. I’m going to order two IV antibiotics and some steroids, try and get that swelling down in your lungs and hopefully you’ll be feeling better in no time. How’s that sound?”

Cliff didn’t answer. “That sounds fine,” Elliot said, squeezing Cliff’s hand. “Can I stay with him?”

“Once we move him to the floor, visiting hours are eight to eight,” Dr. Jim said. “But you can stay with him for as long as he’s in the ER.” He turned to Anna and gave a few other orders for Zofran, Tylenol, albuterol and budesonide treatments. It all seemed so casual to them, but Elliot was still disturbed by how sick Cliff looked and seemed to him.

Dr. Jim physically examined Cliff next. Cliff shuddered and Dr. Jim apologized for his cold hands, but Elliot knew that the temperature hadn’t had anything to do with it. He hummed a lot, wrote down some notes, and then left with a “Hope you feel better soon.” Elliot wondered if he told all his patients that, or just the ones who could actually get better soon. Nurse Anna also excused herself to get the ordered medications, leaving Elliot alone with Cliff once again.

“So… pneumonia. That sounds pretty bad,” Elliot said. “Why didn’t you tell me you felt so sick?”

“You were at work. I didn’t want to bother you,” Cliff said in a tiny voice. “And then I tried to text you but none of the letters in my phone made sense.”

Elliot felt his chest clench painfully hearing that. “Cliff, you wouldn’t have bothered me.”

“But I’m bothering you now,” Cliff whimpered.

Elliot frowned. “I didn’t say that.” Silence from Cliff. Elliot sighed and grasped Cliff’s hand in his own. “Cliff, Cliffy, can you look at me?” It took a second, but fever-bright, hazel eyes eventually focused on Elliot. “You’re my boyfriend. I want you to be okay. Can you at least try to trust me?”

“I do trust you,” Cliff whispered, voice hurt.

“Then let me care about you.”

Cliff fell quiet again and Elliot sat back but kept Cliff’s hand in his. Cliff had his eyes closed, but it didn’t do much to hide the tears that escaped from the corners of them. Elliot didn’t say anything, just brushed them off of Cliff’s cheeks with his sleeve. Once Cliff was asleep, Elliot finally allowed his own silent tears to fall.

Eventually a CNA came to bring Cliff down to the short-stay unit. She rolled Cliff’s stretcher down the hall and into an elevator. Cliff looked nervous and kept glancing at Elliot, making sure he was still right next to him. Elliot always was. They got to a small room that had a real hospital bed in it and the CNA and Elliot both helped Cliff take two steps from the stretcher onto the bed. It was painful for Elliot to see how difficult even this brief transfer was for Cliff, and Cliff started another one of his long coughing spasms afterwards. Elliot rubbed Cliff’s arm, unsure what else he could possibly do to help. “Water,” Cliff croaked hoarsely between deep, rattling coughs.

“Sure. Um…” Elliot looked around him but this room was barely more than an ER bay. It didn’t even have windows. “Let me go check,” he said, and went to go look for the nurse’s station. There were two tired and rather bored looking, middle aged women sitting at computers at the end of the hall. “Excuse me? My boyfriend just got here and he could use some water…”

“I’m almost there,” one of the nurses said, which Elliot thought was a weird thing to say when she very much wasn’t almost there. Regardless, they didn’t seem to like him hovering very much so Elliot went back to Cliff’s room. There was nowhere for him to sit, so he stood at the bedside. Cliff had managed to stop coughing at least.

The nurse, despite her indifferent demeanor, did show up with a little bin that contained hospital socks, meds and a large plastic jug of water. “Clifford Barrows, hmm? I’m Carey. And you are…?” She raised an eyebrow at Elliot.

Suddenly feeling extra protective, Elliot quickly said, “His boyfriend.”

“Alright. Mr. Barrows, are you okay to have Elliot in here?”

Cliff nodded a yes. Elliot thought it was so weird to hear Cliff called by his last name. They seemed too young for that.

“Well, your boyfriend will have to leave after I finish this admission paperwork as visiting hours are over soon, but remind me to get you a chair for tomorrow,” Carey said. She started a myriad of questions, which included Cliff’s emergency contact.

“Make it Elliot,” Cliff said quickly, looking at him. “Um, will my dad know I’m here?”

“You’re eighteen, right? Not unless you tell him,” Carey said. “But I see your dad is the primary insurance holder so he may see the invoice after you’re discharged. It shouldn’t show any details though.”

Cliff grimaced but nodded. At least there would be no confrontation in the actual hospital, Elliot thought to himself. Carey kept asking questions, which ranged from did Cliff smoke to could he walk up a flight of stairs to did he have any plans to hurt himself right now. They seemed a little ridiculous to Elliot, but Cliff was able to answer all of them with simple yes’s and no’s pretty quickly since he was for the most part entirely healthy.

“You’re easy,” Carey said, winking at Cliff. “Boyfriend? Visiting hours are over now honey, so you say your goodbyes and you can come back at 8am tomorrow morning.” Elliot thought she was kind of like those old ladies at diners who yelled at you for your order but called you honey so you couldn’t feel totally attacked.

He nodded and gave Cliff a quick hug. He thought about kissing him, but Cliff didn’t like to be kissed in front of other people so he just squeezed Cliff’s hand instead. “I’ll be back in the morning,” he promised. “Get some rest and tell them if you don’t feel good, okay?”

“Okay,” Cliff said. He looked scared, so Elliot hugged him again and kissed the top of his head this time.

“I love you,” Elliot said. “I know you can be strong for me. You’ve got your phone right here.”

Elliot didn’t look back as he left, because he could feel Cliff’s kicked puppy expression trailing him and knew if he did, it would be ten times harder to leave. He walked to the parking lot without thinking, got in his car, and drove home without Cliff beside him. He made it to the park a block away from his parents’ house before he pulled over and cried for a solid ten minutes.

Cliff was going to be okay, Elliot told himself. Cliff was stronger than he seemed, and realistically Elliot couldn’t be there for him every second of the way. But he’d promised Cliff they weren’t going to the hospital, and then he promised Cliff that he’d be right there next to him the whole time. He’d broken both of these promises and now Cliff was sleeping in a hospital bed, in a tiny room with no windows and only a crotchety old lady to keep an eye on him. Elliot felt just terrible and wondered if he’d made the wrong choice dragging Cliff to the ER. All he wanted was for Cliff to be okay, though, and he really hadn’t seemed okay today.

Elliot wiped his tears away and told himself he had to be strong. This seemed so intense and adult, but Elliot couldn’t let it overwhelm him. He tried to remember the coping mechanisms his therapist had taught him back in high school. Deep breaths. One second at a time. He could do it, and so could Cliff. Elliot turned on the car and returned home by himself.

[Part 4]

#shionwrites #sickfic #illness whump #fever whump #oc: cliff #oc: elliot #whump #sicknario #sick whump #male whump #angst #hurt/comfort #novemetober rescheduled #prompt: unfamiliar surroundings #vomitting #emeto #tw: emeto #oc sickfic #pneumonia fic #flu whump

[creative-caramel-coffee]

Hi, can I request Natasha x sick reader? Both Natasha and the reader were asked to watch Morgan while Tony and Pepper are at a company gala. Reader woke up with what they thought was a small cold, but they really start to feel unwell while they are watching Morgan. Natasha insists that the reader take it easy. Morgan wants to play doctor after she sees the reader sneezing, and Natasha ends up lovingly caring for the reader while simultaneously babysitting.

Sleepy Sickness

Pairings: Natasha x R

Word count: 2.4K

Summary: Reader comes down with a cold before her and Nat are supposed to be looking after morgan.

TW: colds, headache, children (lol), exhaustion

A/n I hope i did this idea justice :)

Not today, you couldn’t be sick today. Pepper had called at around four yesterday afternoon, their usual babysitter fell through and in a last-ditch attempt to keep from having to bring Morgan to the charity gala they had called Clint. Of course, Clint, being the most experienced with kids was an excellent choice. However, Clint was also a little shit. A little shit who had been trying to warm nat up to the idea of having children one day. Her tough past made her a little uncomfortable around most kids, Clint’s brood excluded. She often worried she may say the wrong thing or hurt them, so she hadn’t had much interaction with Morgan.

There were always the birthday parties that she attended, and Morgan called her auntie natty but Nat’s worries of doing something wrong always won out. However, Clint being Nat’s kind-of best friend had taken it upon himself to volunteer the two of you to look after Morgan. Pepper had she not been in a rush may have noticed the small abnormality, but she had been trying to sort out a small crisis for the gala, one of the catering companies had come down with some sort of bug that had been coming around and had to cancel last minute after they couldn’t find replacements for their staff.

So here you were, lying in your and Natasha’s bed with an arm over your eyes as you tried to block out the light that streamed through the cracks in the blinds. The team was out on a mission, so pepper was bringing Morgan to the compound at eleven, so they had the day to get ready. Nat was already up from the looks of the sheets beside you and you figured she was most likely training per usual. The headache was new. Sure, last night you had felt a bit off but when Nat had asked you simply said you were tired. Heck you even though you were just tired. But as the first sneeze came, followed by a short, ragged cough that seemed to tear you throat apart you knew it wasn’t just a headache. You were sick. You were sick and your girlfriend and niece needed you today.

Sighing you pulled back the sheets before shuffling into the bathroom. You looked awful. Deep purple marks marred the space under your eyes and your skin lacked its usual tan pallor. Pale and sickly was todays aesthetic from the looks of the face that stared back at you in the bathroom mirror. You sighed again and splashed some water on your face to try and wake up a little more. When that didn’t work you decided to get a coffee.

Throwing on some makeup to take the dead look from your face you brushed your teeth, coughed and changed. Your head was raging with displeasure at the light of the hallways thanks to the big windows. You considered grabbing Nat’s sunglasses but when you couldn’t find them you gave up. After making your way to the kitchen and starting the coffee machine you slumped into a chair resting your warm head in your hands and closing your eyes.

Feeling hands on your shoulders you jumped eyes flying open.

“Woah there sweetheart.” Nat said turning her hands up in surrender. “Sorry love usually you can hear me coming.” She said frowning. She hovered her hands an inch from your shoulders and you nodded as she lowered them and began to massage your tense muscles.

“Jus’ a bit tired” you said slurring slightly from exhaustion.

‘Are you sure thats all your very tense darling.” She said.

“Ok maybe I’m not feelings so hot right now.” You said and turned away to muffle a painful sounding cough into the crook of your elbow. Nat rubbed your back as you stopped and pulled away to look at her, wincing as you spoke, your voice raw. “Sorry.” You said and Natasha frowned.

“Don’t apologise. Let me get you something to drink you don’t sound too good.” She said and lacking your usually snark response you simply nodded.

Nat filled a glass at the sink raising an eyebrow at the coffee sitting still under the coffee machine now steaming and ready to drink.

“Love please tell me you weren’t going to drink this you need rest not caffeine” she said.

“Need coffee, Morgan’s coming.” You mumbled and Nat tensed before relaxing and sighing. She walked back to your side and handed you the water which you drank with a grateful look.

“Honey I’m sure pepper can find someone-“

“No!” You interpreted before coughing again and nat nudged the glass towards you again as you took a small sip. “No.” you said your voice softer. “I miss the little thing and it's just a small cold.”

“Honey you can barely keep your eyes open, you need rest.”

“Please don’t make pepper find someone else she doesn’t need the stress.”

“And neither do you, my love.” Nat countered.

“Please.” You begged and nat visibly caved.

“Ok fine. But you don’t leave the couch, I don’t care how many times we end up watching frozen, you are resting today.” She said with a stern voice, and you smiled tiredly.

“Thank you, baby.” You said and pressed a kiss to the knuckles of her left hand.

“Anything for you my sweet girl.” She said and it was at that moment Jarvis announced pepper was here. You startled. What was the time, surely you hadn’t slept in that long. Nat noticed your panicked expression and was quick to reassure you.

“Love you needed the rest so i let you sleep. Don’t worry about getting dressed pepper and Morgan are family its ok.” She said.

Truthfully, she thought you looked quite precious sat in the kitchen with your Dino slippers and shark hoodie that brushed down to the back of your knees. You had small octopuses printed on the long pyjama pants which were blue and white which matched the baby blue hoodie. Your hair was in a messy bun and your makeup had not gone unnoticed by the trained spy.

“Sit tight I’ll be back in a sec.” Nat said pressing a kiss to your cheek. You nodded and turned away to sneeze. Nat shot you a sympathetic look and retreated towards the elevator to collect Morgan from the foyer.

Pepper stood tapping her heels in her worried manner as she stood with Morgan next to her, holding her little hand. Morgan was dressed in a small navy shirt with an Ironman helmet on it, sparkly pink sneakers and little black leggings. She had a red backpack over her shoulders and a glittery red skirt over the leggings. The five-year-old looked quiet cute despite having dressed herself that morning as pepper had no energy to argue.

As Nat stepped from the elevator pepper visibly relaxed. Nat walked over to them and said hello before quickly talking to pepper as Morgan tugged on her arm.

“Wheres Y/n?” Pepper asked looking past nat to find nobody there.

“Shes resting, she’s not feeling too goody. So, Morgan and I are going to have some fun today.” Nat said crouching down on her calves to address the little girl.

“Isn’t that right mo” nat said and Morgan smiled widely.

“I’ll be good for you and auntie Y/n.” Morgan said nodding and pepper smiled squeezing her hand before thanking nat and leaving.

Natasha took the young girls' hand had led her to the lift telling Jarvis to take them to the avengers' lounge which was attached to the kitchen where she left you.

Walking back in Nat saw you had called asleep headfirst on the table. She chuckled slightly and let go of Morgans hand to scoop you up. You nuzzled into her chest and stayed asleep exhaustion winning out in the end. Morgan who had watched the whole thing stood near the door was before tugging on the hem of Nat’s shirt.

“Auntie Natty.” She said whispering the way kids did when they tried to be quiet but weren’t. “Can we watch a movie while auntie Y/n sleeps?” She said and nat smiled widely.

“That’s a great idea mo. Why don’t you go pick a movie while and I’ll bring in auntie Y/n to lay on the couch with us before getting some lunch and snacks.”

“Ok!” Morgan said before taking off to complete her mission. Nat gently set you down on the couch and pilled a blanket over your sleeping form. Morgan scrolled through Netflix and nat adjusted you pillowed glancing at Morgan before quickly going to get lunch.

Nat was willing to admit she wasn’t a very good cook. You did most of the domestic stuff like cooking. Between the red room and the overall chaos of her life Nat never really got a chance to learn. You never held it against her. You loved the time you spent cooking and dancing with her in your arms in the kitchen. Listening to American Pie on the speaker.

Nat shook her head from the memory. The three of you needed lunch luckily there was something she could make.

Nat emerged from the kitchen after around fifteen minutes with three plates of peanut butter and jelly sandwiched. One for Morgan with the crusts cut off and one for you, knowing you wouldn’t be very hungry. She had one and a half on her plate having already eaten a half while making them. She also had some fruit snacks from the pantry from where tony stashed them for when Morgan came to the compound. Nat walked in and placed the food on the coffee table. Morgan, as predicted, had put on frozen and sat cross legged next to you on the couch. Nat watched as she picked up the sandwiched inspecting it before taking a bite.

Nat leaned over once Morgan settled again and she rubbed your shoulder lightly to wake you. You stirred and Nat helped you eat your food before you fell asleep again.

Around an hour later the movie ended and you were still sleeping, Nat went to queue up frozen two but the momentary lapse in the entertainment left Morgan feeling bored. She turned to look at you, swaddled in blankets. Suddenly you sneezed waking yourself up. Your tired eyes looked around.

“Natty?” You said sounding rough and groggy.

“Im here love.” Nat said, “go back to sleep.” She said and you closed your eyes and hummed quietly.

“Auntie natty?” Morgan asked whispering again.

“Yes mo?” Nat asked pressing play on the movie.

“Can we play doctors for auntie Y/n?” She asked and Nat hesitated. She didn’t want the little girl to get sick, pepper would probably never let her babysit again and as nervous as the girl made her the day had been quite enjoyable, it wasn’t often she allowed herself to relax like this. Nat settled on the next next thing.

“Ok, can you help me get her some medicine and make some tea with me?” Morgan nodded excited at the idea of helping. “Im sure it will help auntie Y/n get better soon.” Nat said and stood led Morgan to the kitchen slightly surprised as the girls slipped her small hand into Natasha’s. She didn’t pull away, instead giving it a soft squeeze and smiling at the little girl. Morgan had a pep in her step and a smile that lit a sparkle in her eyes. The girl was simply adorable.

Nat boiled the kettle as Morgan looked through the cupboards for camomile tea. Once locating it she held it out to nat in her small hands. Nat took it and blew her a kiss making the girl giggle. The noise made Natasha’s heart swell.

Once she had helped Morgan measure out the right dose of medicine and put the tea, tissues, pills, water and cough medicine on a tray, she walked behind the girl as she slowly walked into the lounge carefully balancing some of the items on the tray. Nat had taken the glass off incase she dropped it. Sipping the water so Morgan didn’t know why she took it not wanting to upset the girl with thinking she didn’t have faith in her. She simply wanted to avoid tears at all costs. That was your department. Setting the tray on the table Morgan came and gently woke you up. Stirred and Morgan watched as Natasha handed you the tissues which you used the blow your nose before discarding the tissue into the bin Morgan held out to you.

You took the pills and drank some tea, but when nat handed you the cough mixture you turned your nose up. Morgan frowned and beat Nat to it.

“Auntie Y/n you have to drink the medicine it makes the sickness go away. My daddy says its full of mini superhero’s which battle and get rid of all the bad guys making us sick.” She said and you smiled. Nat shot you a glare telling you with her look not to upset the child who had a very basic understanding of germs. You sighed and took it like a shot.

“Yay.” Morgan said and handed you back your tea. You took it gratefully and washed down the taste of the medicine. Morgan sat next to you a agin and waited for the Tv to be turned back on. Nat chuckled at your soft yet confused expression and sat herself, pulling you into her arms and turning on the movie.

The three of you curled up together as you were careful not to breathe on Morgan and make her sick. Curled up on the couch is exactly where pepper and Tony found you in the early morning when they came to pick up Morgan from the half sleepover due to the late running time of the gala.

Pepper snapped a quick picture of the three of you cuddling before tony scooped up Morgan to take home. Pepper wrote a short note letting you know they took her and let you sleep before she tucked the blanket over the two you again. You wiggled further into Natasha’s arms and pepper audibly cooed at the sight before switching off the tv and light before leaving you to rest. Hopefully the comfortable position wouldn’t leave you achier the next day.

MASTERLIST

#marvel #the avengers #natasha romanov #sicfic #natasha romaoff #Natasha x r #Natasha x reader #Morgan stark #tony stark #pepper potts #domestic avengers #avengers compound #comfort #sickfic #sick #sickness #illness #cold #flu #sick reader #sick r #sleepy #avenger r #avenger reader #babysitting #hurt / comfort #fluff #whump #no angst #cute

[allthewhumpygoodness]

Recently been in love with those calm, practical caretakers. Ones that, if the whumpee's ailment is only relatively mild but they're still miserable because of it, they're able to keep the balance of acknowledging their discomfort and attempting to soothe it, while still remaining calm about the whole thing and not panicking. They know the whumpee isn't in any serious danger -- but they also know they're majorly Unhappy right now and want to do anything within their power to remedy that.

#whump #especially w/sickfics #like. they *know* it's just a bad cold #or the flu #and they aren't worried per se but they can tell the poor whumpee #is having a Very Rough Time of it and just feel bad for the poor thing

[bellysoupset]

Vince was not feeling well.

Which was saying something considering he hadn't been feeling well since November last year.

The talk with Wendy had helped, a lot, the knot that had permanently tied in his throat. Knowing they weren't over had him nearly dizzy with relief, even if he was very aware that it wouldn't be easy to have a relationship when they were 4 hours apart.

But there was more. There were his friends still... With whom he hadn't spoken. Well, everyone safe for Leo, who had texted him over Christmas break and hadn't stopped.

"I don't want you unhappy," had been Leo's simplistic answer when Vince met up with him that morning and asked why he was being so cool about the entire situation. Jonah hadn't spoken with him in a while and Vin wasn't sure if he was being ignored or if it was just Jon's regular sullen silences.

He was absolutely certain that Luke was ignoring him and that was more than partially to blame for the queasy sensation that spread all over his body.

"It seems like you're the only one," Vince scoffed, pushing the french fry around with viciousness and glaring at it. He couldn't fathom eating it, with how unsettled his stomach felt.

Leo let out a sigh, "that's not true, Vin." He was sitting back against Fredo's leather seats, finishing off his own burger, "Luke's a wreck, you two should really talk."

"Nothing to talk about," Vince grumbled, trying not to meet Leo's eyes and failing miserably when the blonde glared at him.

"Vince."

"He's just making everything worse," Vince groaned, wincing as his stomach cramped painfully, "it's hard enough leaving and it's hard enough that I'm gonna be four hours apart from my girlfriend and Luke- Luke's fucking everything up."

Leo raised his eyebrows, judgement rolling off of him and Vince ducked his head, muffling a burp against his fist. There was a burning in his chest that nothing could soothe.

"Vince."

"Stop looking at me like that."

"You say you wanna go, but I've never seen you look more miserable," Leo pointed out, his voice gentle, but firm, "look at me, Vin."

He did and immediately grimaced. There was nothing but support and concern in Leo's face, which Vince quickly found that he did not want. He much rather be yelled at, as he was sure Jonah or Bell would have.

"I'm okay."

"Bullshit," Leo sighed, rubbing his face, "don't lie to my face, okay? You're miserable."

Vince shrugged, "I will be okay... I got a job in Doverport."

Leo's eyebrows jumped up, "uhm... Congrats?" he said, unsure given the tone of the conversation, "what is it?"

"History teacher at the local public school," Vince picked at his nails, "I start in a week."

"That's great Vin! You've always wanted to teach..." Leo's voice trailed off and he let out a heavy sigh, "and you're not happy."

"What do you mean? Of course I a-"

"It wasn't a question," Leo twirled the coke in his cup with the metal straw, poking at the ice chips, "why are you moving if you don't want to?"

"I do want to," Vince sighed, giving up all pretense at trying to eat and his upbeat attitude, "I miss my parents, Leo. Which I know- Well, it's not something either of you guys is very familiar with, but I don't just love my family, okay? I like them. I genuinely enjoy spending time with them... And my parents are getting old and Sophia is leaving at the end of the year and I'll see her even less and Liv... I feel like I missed every single milestone? She's six, I- I came to college when I she had just learned to say my name..."

It was terrifying, to know he would be missing out on important memories with the ones he loved regardless of each town he picked.

"No, I get it," Leo nodded, then when Vin raised an eyebrow he rolled his eyes, "okay, fine, I don't get it. Not for a second, this is completely out of my reality... But I saw Jon with Angie this Christmas and how heartbroken he was over them not being closer. I saw Luke with his dad and how Kit doesn't even know him... And I know I spent my whole childhood wishing I had something like that," he shrugged, "so yeah, I don't get it, but I do."

Vince nodded, forcefully swallowing against the knot in his throat, "yeah..." he swallowed again, feeling clammy and ill, "it just sucks, because it feels like I'm letting everyone down and-"

"You're not," Leo reached over the table, grabbing Vin's wrist, "look, it's not you leaving, it's how you did it. At least with Wendy it is."

"You don't know Wendy," Vince scoffed, wiping the sweat collecting over his lip, "she's- She's heartbroken and furious and it's my fault."

"I do know Wendy," Leo rolled his eyes, "she's petty as fuck and she's loyal and she's independent and you asked her to give up her life and move with you after you spent two months lying to her face and leading her on."

Vince's eyes widened and he shook his head, "I didn't lie, I just- What was there to tell if I hadn't made up my mind? Nothing."

"She's your girlfriend, of course you could've said something," Leo glared at him, "you think I'd be happy if Jonah just up and decided something after months of thinking it, when he never shared the plans with me? When I wasn't a part of the conversation?"

As if the realization suddenly hit him, Vince mouthed around nothing, confused, "I didn't... I didn't think of that."

Leo let out a little snort, before starting to drink his coke. He waited, patiently, as Vince came to terms with the new realization.

It took him a minute to put it into words, but he did it, crumpling forward and shielding his face with his hands, saying in a muffled voice, "I fucked up."

"You fucked up," Leo agreed, trying not to sound too harsh, "but she still took you back, so I'm gonna guess you didn't fuck up that badly."

"God knows why she did," Vince grumbled, removing a hand from his face and staring at the table, looking like he wanted to say something and failing.

Leo's winced in sympathy, "look, we love you, Vin. All of us. That's not gonna change, okay? They'll get over it."

"Yeah," his friend nodded, not looking like he believed it, "you should come visit..." he didn't raise his eyes from the table, "I'm really going to miss you, kid."

Leo's valiant smile and upbeat attitude wavered a little and he only nodded, not quite managing to fake it, "yeah, I'll miss you too..."

"I think we should get going, I still have to hit the road..." Vince cringed just at the thought. His father had let him borrow the car, so he could retrieve all the boxes from Wendy's apartment and the trunk and backseat were already loaded up.

He still had to swing by his girlfriend's apartment to get some stuff and to say goodbye... And his stomach was burning just thinking of it.

Everything felt horrible, from getting up to hugging Leo goodbye, to driving away and the prospect of the four hours long drive before him... And saying goodbye to Wendy...

Vince was so caught up in his own angst, that he completely missed the car parked next to Wendy's pink one. He had started to sweat back in the restaurant, clammy perspiration over saying goodbye to Leo, but that by now he knew was more than just that.

He felt downright woozy during the elevator ride, the small lunch he had been able to force down starting to flip in his stomach. Vince leaned against Wendy's red front door, resting his forehead on it and took a measured breath.

He just had to fake it for half an hour more. Just enough to kiss her goodbye and try not to start crying over it and then...

"And you think it's the meds?" Wendy's voice travelled through the door and Vince groaned, as he quickly realized she had company, Bella's voice answering.

"I hope it's just the meds... I'm scared, Wendy - Fuck that, I'm overwhelmed..."

"Of course you are, it's a lot to handle on your own, Bells..."

Vince turned the doorknob, deciding to make his presence known sooner rather than later. He was already in both women's shit list, the last thing he wanted was to be accused of eavesdropping on them.

As soon as he opened the door, the talking died down and both girls turned to face him. Bella was leaning against the dining table, while Wendy was on the opposite side, putting the decor back on top of the table after they had lunch.

He could still smell it in the air, raspberry pie and something else.

"Oh hey, you're back early!" Wendy's voice went up a note, all awkward in a way that wasn't like her at all. She glanced nervously at Bella, who had crossed her arms defensively and raised her eyebrows.

"Hi," Bell said coolly and Vin all but flinched at her tone.

He loved this girl like a sister and it was a slap to the face to be treated like that.

"Hi," Vince gripped the doorknob, "I'm on my way out," which was the wrong thing to say, because Bell let out an incredulous, bitter scoff, while Wendy promptly dropped the vase she was holding down on the table, looking spooked.

"Already? I thought you were only leaving tonight..." She looked all heartbroken, "I thought we'd have more time-"

"Don't let the door hit you on your way out," Bella said and Vince reeled at her tone, while Wendy's mouth hung open, her heart shaped face turning pink.

"That's fucking enough, Bell," she glared at the ginger, "you can be civilized or you can leave."

A horrible warmth spread all over Vince and he breathed in deeply through his nose. The floor seemed to be swimming, nausea clinging to the back of his throat.

"I'm not gonna coddle him just because-"

"This isn't about Vince and you know it, you're letting your feelings get in the way-"

"Yeah, damn right I am!" Bella exclaimed, her voice a note louder and Vince groaned, as it made his head pound.

He was going to be sick.

His mouth filled with saliva and he gulped down nervously, trying to think through the horrible fog. He could bolt for the bathroom, but that would get them questioning him, besides... He really didn't want to impose on Wendy, she was already being too understanding-

"Helloooo? I'm talking with you, jackass," Bella's voice cut through the haze and Vince struggled to focus on her. She had moved closer, while Wendy was hot on her heels, looking flustered and pissed off.

"You really should go now, Bella-"

"Fuck no, I won't, not until he looks at me-"

"Move," Vince groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and darting a hand forward. It touched Bell's wrist and he squeezed it as well, "Bella, get out of the way-"

"What the fuck do you think you're doing!?" Bella's voice suddenly was much louder, "let go off me-" the implication of her words was more nauseating than anything and Vince's stomach surged up in his throat... And he didn't have it in him to even fight it.

He bent in half, shoving Bella back to avoid getting her combat boots covered in sick and then lost his lunch on Wendy's foyer. All over his boots.

Vince swayed on the spot, a cramp hitting him fiercely and he would've crumpled down to his knees, wasn't it for Bella grabbing him suddenly.

"Vince?! Vin, what the fuck!?" Bella exclaimed right next to his ear, her voice strained by the effort of keeping him collapsing. He was far too big for her, if his knees fully gave in, he'd pull them both down, "what's wrong? Are you sick? Are you hurt?!"

All that anger gone in the flick of a wrist.

Vince let out a groan, squeezing his stomach. Everything felt horrible, his head felt completely disconnected from his body, his belly was sour and far from empty, churning up a storm and he was freezing...

"Aw honey," Wendy's voice, a balm to his nerves, made Vince open his eyes. A towel had already been draped over the puddle of sick and his girlfriend had wrapped her arm around his opposite side, helping Bella hold him up, "you're not well, I can feel the fever from here..."

"I'm g-" His throat constricted and Vince gulped down against the knot in there, "gon'besick..."

"Yeah, help us," Bella gasped, sounding worried and frustrated as they tried to move him to the bathroom. Without his help, not even in a pair they could do much.

Vince nodded, shivering violently and leaning on them, using all his force to move. He collapsed down on the bathroom floor, taking Bella with him since she was the one further inside.

There wasn't much time to think as he pushed the toilet lid up and tried, vaguely, not to cause a bigger mess. His stomach cramped again, squeezing, and Vince white knuckled the porcelain, heaving.

A hand cupped his forehead, supporting his heavy head and Vince leaned into the soft touch with a sob. His thoughts were a jumbled mess, flip flopping between the horrible sensation of his body and the confusion and hurt over the previous interaction.

"I'm-ssssorry..." Vince slurred, sounding and feeling drunk, trying to get rid of the line of thick spit dangling from his bottom lip.

"Shut up," Bella said quietly, dabbing his lip with a wad of toilet paper, "jesus, you're soaked..."

"Here," Wendy, crouching down next to them, planting a humid washcloth to the back of his neck. Vince let his eyes slip closed, immediately regretting it as in the darkness he could feel the room twirling around him-

"Arms up," Bella, grabbing his elbow, "c'mon, big guy, help me here."

"Whataare... What are you doing...?" Vince forced his eyes open and realized he was no longer slumped over the toilet, but propped against the cold wall of the bathroom. Wendy was standing near the sink, re-wetting the washcloth.

"You're boiling," Bell explained, all soft, "we need to get your temperature down."

He really didn't feel like he could trust her, not after all the yelling, not after she had been ignoring him... Besides, it was freezing.

"No, 'mnot..."

"Yes, you are, Vin," Bella pushed his damp hair back, looking terribly concerned, "this is going to help, okay?"

"Uhm-" he couldn't help but lean on her touch, letting his eyes close. Sure, he was hurt over Bell's words and she was pissed at him, but it was still Bella...

"Honey," Wendy, patting his cheek, "Vin, open your eyes... Vin..."

He tried to force them open, ready to cry over not being able to just fucking sleep. Being awake just meant feeling like he was about to spew the food he had eaten back in 8th grade, he'd much rather sleep-

"Vince," Wendy shook him a little harder and Vince opened his eyes. He was shirtless now, which was more than a little concerning. He didn't remember taking his shirt off.

Bella was perched on the bathtub, watching over them, and Wendy was crouched in front of him, cupping his face.

Vince's head swam as he tried to focus on his girlfriend. Wendy's eyes were the size of platters, all worried.

"Hi..."

"Hey," she forced a smile, stroking his cheek, "how are you feeling?"

"Like crap," Vince groaned and couldn't help a small smile as he heard Bella snort.

"Yeah?" Wendy rolled her eyes, "when did you start feeling sick, honey?"

"Uhm..." Vince winced as another cramp hit him and he curled up, sucking in the air. It took a second to breath through the hot, sharp pain and as soon as the iron grip in his inside eased, a new wave of nausea hit him. He was sweating, gulping nervously as his mouth watered and his tongue felt too big for his mouth, "don't feel good..."

"I know, sweetheart," Wendy smoothed his hair back, "I just need to know for how long this has been going on. Were you sick this morning?"

She sounded so... Calm. So gentle. Somewhere in the recess of his mind Vince knew this wasn't a good thing, that this was Wen using her doctor voice. The last thing he wanted was to be an even bigger bother-

Tears stung his eyes and Vince curled up even more, turning his head away from Wendy... His eyes paused on Bella and she looked horribly guilty. Twice as concerned. None of the calm that Wendy sported, panic was written all over her face.

"I'm so sorry," she said before Vince could say anything and a sob bubbled up, making his whole frame shake. Vince ducked his head, he didn't want to cry, but the fever was frying at his nerves and before he head any control over it, big fat tears started to run down his cheeks.

"Hey, hey..." Wendy whispered, moving up and wrapping her arms around him, pulling Vince into a tight hug, "hey, I got you. You're okay-"

"I'm sorry," he mumbled into her hair, words sticking together, shaking them both, "I'm sorry, I don't- I'm making a mess, I've made a mess-"

"No, no, we're fine," Wendy squeezed him, kissing the side of his head, "we're working through it, right? We're okay- You're okay-"

"No, I'm not, I don't- I hate this. Everything is wrong and I feel wrong, and-" Vince sobbed, his words jumbling together in one continuous stream that made no sense even to his own ears and suddenly there was another pair of arms wrapped around him, squeezing him even tighter than Wendy was.

"B-Bell...?"

"I'm here- You-you're okay," she mumbled, voice muffled since Bella's cheek was squished to his shoulder, "we're okay, alright? We're gonna be okay."

"But- but you hate..." Vince whimpered and Bella pulled back, all but replacing Wendy in cupping his face, forcing their eyes to meet.

"No, I'm furious at you, I don't hate you," she glared at him, "not for a second, Vin."

This was all very touching, but Vince's stomach apparently hadn't gotten the memo he was having a moment, because suddenly he was gagging.

Bella jumped out of the way and both women pushed him forward to lean over the bowl, just in time for the rest of his stomach lining to make a reappearance. He coughed and coughed, but there wasn't much more to bring up and Vince was left panting and sobbing, curled up over the toilet bowl.

He felt Bella's fingers moving through his sweaty hair, Wendy squeezing his arm as she got up from the ground, "stay with him, I'm gonna settle the room. Clearly he's not stopping any time soon."

Vince groaned, he didn't need Bell to sit with him, he didn't need a nanny... Bella flicked at his ear.

"No one said anything about you needing a nanny," she scoffed, before continuing to comb his hair, "you seem hellbent on throwing up on me."

Vince let out a surprised chuckle, eyes closed as he breathed through the nausea that was starting back up, "it's the least you deserve after yelling at me like that."

Bella snorted, running her hand up and down his naked back, "god, I'm gonna fucking miss you."

#HI IS THIS ANYTHING #sickfic #stomach flu #emetophilia #emeto #mywriting #vince monacelli #here have 3 caretakers for the price of 1

[somber-sapphic]

Hi! Can I request 1, 35, and ill timed with Yelena and sick reader? Love your writing!

Old Wives' Tales

This is my first Yelena fic! This is also unedited! Mostly because it's 2am!

[[Summary]] Most of the avengers would kill to get out of a press conference. Not you. You would do whatever you could to make sure you got to go. (yelena x reader)

-----

You had been looking forward to the press conference all week. Most of the others absolutely hated dealing with the media. Natasha voiced her hatred outright and had even recruited Clint and Wanda (who were clearly only supporting the assassin because they were dating) to boycott any sort of press event. Fury had shut it down, insisting that it was a part of the job and that people needed to view all of you as a unit. 

Tony loved the attention, Bruce didn’t really care about any of it as long as the big guy didn't come out, Cap was, of course, all about the people, Strange enjoyed showing off his intelligence in any way that he could and Thor always looked bored. Yelena only went because she had little choice. Natasha decided that if she had to go, so did her sister. 

You, Tony, and Cap were the three who truly loved the conferences. It was fun for you, it was some of the only times that you could snap back at the public for the way that they saw some of you, mainly when it came to the three women. For some reason, they were more okay with the men destroying cities than with the rest of you accidentally knocking down some statues in a battle. Calling them out on it and watching faces go red was quite entertaining. 

Imagine your dismay when you woke up three hours before the conference with a blocked nose and full sinuses. Your throat felt like someone had force-fed you gravel and your body was unnaturally heavy. Damnit. You were sick. You hadn’t been sick in years but could recognize the feeling anywhere. It went without saying that you were no longer looking forward to dealing with reporters. 

With a hacking cough, you heaved yourself out of bed, swaying when your feet hit the floor. All of the blood rushed from your head, leaving you dizzy and vulnerable. You fell back onto the bed and clutched your head in your hands, groaning quietly. This was going to be an incredibly long day. Suddenly the idea of sitting under harsh lights and arguing with misogynists sounded like a nightmare. 

You took a final deep, bubbling breath and stood up again before shuffling to the bathroom to get ready. Despite knowing that there would be someone to do your makeup you applied a small amount, simply enough to make yourself look less like a walking zombie and more like a semi-living human. 

It was difficult to do proper makeup with shaky hands and blurry vision, but you pulled it off with minimal screw-ups. You’d thought for a moment that you could handle doing mascara and eyeliner but after accidentally drawing a dark black streak on your cheek. Then you’d had to do the makeup again, leading you to give up on doing anything close to your normal look. 

You threw back a shot of cold medicine and chased it with two Tylenol tablets swallowed with a gulp of water. Your throat burned and you coughed into the sink, wincing at just how much worse that made it. The fever you could deal with, but the sore throat was really getting to you.  

There was this old wives tale that you only vaguely remembered, but you knew that it had something to do with salt water. After a quick Google search, you found yourself in the kitchen mixing a teaspoon of salt into a glass of warm water. The internet had recommended less salt, but your logic said that more would make you feel better faster. 

You took a sip and nearly gagged as you attempted to gargle with it, the salt burning your throat even further. You only managed to keep it in your mouth for a few seconds before needing to spit it out. Wrinkling your nose you did the same thing with the rest of the glass, managing to keep the disgusting water in your mouth for longer each time. 

When it was gone you rinsed your mouth with clean water and took a big sip, thoroughly annoyed when you found that your throat seemed to hurt even worse than it had before. So that had failed. Of course, it did, why would it have worked? Why couldn’t it just make you feel better?

You checked your phone and sighed, wondering what you were supposed to do for three hours. If you had thought it over better you may have waited to do any sort of makeup and instead set an alarm that would let you sleep for a little bit longer. But no. Now you had to figure out what to do with yourself. 

Then, it came to you. Some people swore by exercise to cure minor illnesses and you needed to train anyway. Screw the makeup. You made your way down to the gym and changed into a tank top and leggings, pulling your hair up in a tight bun before you entered the actual training area. 

You made your way over to the punching bags and began to hit one, growing tired after only a few seconds. That didn't matter, it was good for you. It would be good to sweat out the germs and you’d get in a bonus workout. 

Twenty minutes later you had moved onto the obstacle court and were drenched in sweat, struggling to avoid said obstacles. You had fallen on your ass twice and there was a fresh bruise on your cheek which would of course hurt much worse when that was the only pain that you’d have to focus on. 

“Y/n! What on Earth are you doing?” You stopped and turned around to find Yelena stalking toward you, wearing a nice dress and a scowl. You opened your mouth to respond when the blonde’s expression turned to one of worry and you felt something slam into your back. The breath was knocked out of you and you fell to the ground, curling up to protect your head. 

You stayed in that position until you felt calloused hands on your shoulders, coaxing you out of your protective ball. 

“Idiot.” The young widow grumbled, pulling you to your feet. She held you steady and glared into your eyes, her face softening as you felt yourself wanting to cry. She could tell, of course, she could. There was no bullshitting Yelena Belova, especially when you didn’t have the energy to put on a mask. 

“The germs aren’t leaving.” You complained, your voice a mere whisper. The woman raised an eyebrow and nodded, pressing her hand against your forehead. You whined and pulled away, swatting at invisible bugs as you did. 

“Okay weirdo, you sure are delirious. Come on, let's go.” She ordered, wrapping an arm around your waist. You sniffled and put your head on her shoulder, nearly letting the tears fall when she pulled you closer. 

It wasn’t often that Yelena would show affection where others might see the two of you, it simply wasn't the kind of person she was. But in private she was incredibly loving and attentive, she was an absolute sweetheart who would quite literally kill to keep you safe. Well, she may also kill for fun. The woman had a violent streak. 

“We’ve gotta go, Lena. We have-”

“Shut up.” You shut up. It just wasn’t a fight that you would win, nor a fight that you wanted to start. You’d rather just let her do what she wanted and maybe she’d cuddle with you. She’d definitely cuddle with you, it was a matter of whether or not you’d get a lecture about neglecting your health or not before the cuddles. 

Yelena half-carried you to your shared bedroom, not complaining about how much work you were making her do. It wasn’t intentional, but it seemed that forcing yourself to train had sapped every ounce of energy that you had left and you were struggling to make your body move the way it was supposed to. 

Your clear lack of strength came to a head when your knees gave out under you and you found yourself crumpled on the floor of the hallway containing everyone’s rooms, Yelena unable to keep you standing any longer. 

“Damnit, Y/n, are you alright?” The Russian woman asked, maneuvering out of the tangle of your combined limbs. That was it, that was all that you could take. You had been doing such an okay job at keeping yourself steady, making sure that your illness was on the sidelines, hyping yourself up for the press conference that you had been so excited for but now you were starting to break down. 

Tears slipped down your cheeks and you hung your head, body beginning to shake as you let yourself give up. Yelena cupped your face in her hands, her striking emerald eyes searching every part of your face for anything that could tell her how to help. 

“Hey, hey why are you crying?” She murmured, quickly rearranging the two of you so that you were leaning against her instead of the wall. You knew that your nose was running and that you looked absolutely disgusting, you were amazed that she was willing to be so close to you. She usually shied away from sick people. 

“Talk to me kotenok. Tell me what’s wrong, let me help.” Her kind words just made you want to cry harder. Rather than forcing you to answer Yelena held you tighter, pulling your head down onto her chest. She pressed her lips into your hair and whispered to you in Russian, promising you that everything would be alright. 

“I-I don’t f-f-feel good.” You finally managed, speaking into her shoulder. 

“I know Y/n, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this sick. But that’s why I’m here, I get to help. Even though you’re kind of an idiot.” You let out a waterly laugh and smiled, sniffling thickly in an attempt to get rid of some of the snot. Gross. 

“Gross.” Yelena echoed your thoughts and pulled a tissue from her pocket to wipe your nose with. Where she had gotten a tissue and why she had one you didn’t know, but you were grateful. 

“Thanks, baby.” You mumbled, giving her a weak smile. She snorted and kissed your forehead, rolling her eyes at you. 

“Alright germ bag. Ready to get up again?” The blonde helped you back up and the two of you went back to stumbling down the hall, your tears subsiding slightly.

Maybe you could convince Yelena to let you join the press conference via Zoom. Then at least you’d get to be a part of it. If not though, at least she was there to remind of you of your bad decisions all while making you feel like the most loved human in the whole world.

#sickfic #fever #fanfiction #sick fanfiction #marvel sickfic #marvel #marvel mcu #sick reader #fever whump #yelena x you #yelena black widow #yelena belova #mcu sickfic #avengers #avengers sickfic #sick fanfic #sickness #sick whump #minor whump #flu #fluff #mild angst #my fic #marvel fanfiction #fanfics #yelena x y/n #yelena x reader #yelena x sick reader #yelena mcu #white widow

[writing-whump]

I love your OCS! Can I request something where Matthew is sick, but it's not his shadow, is just some good ol' human tummy bug and he's all over the place not knowing what to do? With Seline as caretaker? - 🎃

Aww thank you for the request, nonnie! My first for the werwolf story, I'm so excited. Here you go.^^

Contains emeto and mentions of scat.

Stomach flu

Seline wasn’t sure how or when it happened that Matthew now accompanied her from classes back home, but somehow it had become routine before she even realized. Since the day he stumbled upon her and pretty much tore himself to pieces with his shadow to protect her from a random threat, he basically made it his mission to be around in the afternoon hours. How it fit his schedule, she had no idea. Somehow he was simply there - and she suspected he didn’t follow his classes nearly as reliably as he did hers.

So she didn’t wonder or say anything. She didn’t feel obligated to make herself especially available - it wasn’t as if she invited him over - but she didn’t protest his presence. But evenings suddenly became their evenings, with her sitting by the central dining table connected to the living room, working on her laptop and Matthew dozing on her couch or flipping through her Netflix account. When she was done studying or no inspiration came to her for new songs - self-made songs were the most effective for magic - she would sit a few meters away beside him and watch as well. 

Seline only realized how much of a routine it had become when something disturbed it. Like today.

Matthew was restless. He was shifting on the couch like he was sitting on a bee hive and he had that angry scowl on his face she associated with difficult days with his shadow. Except he was cautious with his shadow around her - they didn’t have an incident inside her apartment. As if her defensive magic woven into the floor now worked more in his favour, clearing his mind. Which was a good thing, natural thing, since witches usually provided comfort and calmness to their wolves. But they weren’t a pack and she wasn’t his witch or he her wolf - here they were just two students, bounded by a secret they never talked about. Somehow it mattered very little here and she liked it that way. 

Seline was biting her lip, looking up from her laptop occasionally. She wanted to ask him what was wrong but didn’t know how well he would take it. Maybe the best she could do was give his discomfort privacy, no matter what it was.

Suddenly Matthew stood up, expression drawn and uncomfortable, hand on his belly. Then he bolted to the bathroom. Seline watched him go, concerned.

She watched out for gagging noises, but none of that came. Maybe she was reading too much into this. Would he tell her if he was sick? Wolf and witch relationships aside, if her stomach bothered her, she would rather die of emberassment than admit it. It was an intimate, awkward thing, stomach issues, so she bet he would rather be left alone if something was wrong.

You can only offer what you would like yourself. She was aware she wouldn’t know what would help him. How can you spend evenings with a person each day and not know this?

The bathroom door opened abruptly, but the followed steps were shuffling and slow. Matthew dragged himself on the hallway to lean against the wall across from her. Her gaze flickered to him, trying to be inconspicuous. 

Matthew was sweating buckets, dark red hair plastered to his face. He was usually pale, but now he was glistening, freckles standing out on his cheeks and nose, his arms wrapped around his stomach. He was swaying, bending forward a little.

“Seline.”

She turned towards him immediately. “Matt? Hey, what’s wrong?”

He gulped and ran a hand over his face. “Ugh. I-I don’t know? It’s just-” he looked away, flushing, “my stomach really fucking hurts.” 

“Did you throw up?” she asked, eyebrows drawing together. 

“No. But it feels like my guts fucking exploded,” he threw a sheepish look toward the bathroom. Seline noted he closed the door behind himself, which he usually wouldn’t bother with. “...and it didn’t help at all.”

“Oh.” Seline nodded, trying to figure out a sensitive, emphatic way to talk about this without embarrassing him or getting squicked out herself. “You know what? I have these herbal drops that help with indigestion? They are a miracle thing, I swear.” 

She brushed past him towards the kitchen for her yellow bottled drops. Learned to use the herbal things from her mother and knew a really good doctor who made herbal drops from his own garden. Her whole family used it for years for all kinds of issues. It was always her go-to before any hard-on medication.

Counting 30 drops for herself and adding 20 more for Matthew’s weight into a bit of water, she swiftly returned with the glass.

Matthew slid down the wall on the floor, pulling his knees towards himself and hugged them close, face hidden in the crook of his arm.

Seline crouched down beside him, her heart swelling up at the sight. “Come on. Drink this. Maybe it will spare you from throwing up.” 

He eyed her with glossy eyes. This close to him, the smell of sickness and sweat hit her senses, and she suppressed a grimace. Matthew took the glass of water and took a tentative sip. “Hmm. Is this a witchy concoction?”

“Just regular human medicine and traditional herbal knowledge,” she snorted at him. “If it worked for them a few hundred years ago, it will work for you now.” 

Matthew nodded and emptied the glass. She took it from him before he could drop it on the floor, hunching over himself. 

“You will feel better in a minute,” she promised, doubting words immediately. “Come on, up from the floor. Let’s lie you down on the couch.” She wrapped her hands around his arm, coaxing him to stand. He swayed unsteadily as he got up. Better get him sitting down now, or he might not get up on his own soon. 

The redhead sprawled on the couch, but then moaned at the movement and curled up on his side instead, shivering. Seline noted how he hugged his stomach protectively and pulled his hoodie up, nuzzling his face into the couch’s decorative pillow. “I just don’t get it. What’s wrong with me?”

She sat down across from him on the edge of the couch. “You have been handling your shadow pretty well lately, right? Keeping it down so consistently. Ever managed that before?”

Matthew took a shuddering breath, his bleary eyes focusing on her. He squinted against the light of the living room lamp over him. “No?”

“Well, there you have it. Congratulations! You managed to keep your shadow down enough to catch a stomach flu. It’s been going around the campus, I hear.”

“Congratulations for sure,” Matthew grumbled, huddling further into himself, squeezing his eyes shut.

Seline didn’t really have a reason or good excuse to stay beside him, but she didn’t feel like leaving at all. Shutting off the light, she brought her laptop to her lap, sitting cross-legged beside Matthew. This way, she could keep an eye on him all the time. 

The noises his stomach was making didn’t get any better, though. If anything, they grew worse with each passing minute, gurgling and whining. Matthew wasn’t asleep either, hiding his face in the pillows and rubbing his stomach angrily. 

A burp sneaked past his lips. Matt’s eyes flew open and he coughed a small “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay. Do whatever you need to,” she said. She couldn’t focus on her work at all, watching all the telltale signs of oncoming sickness. 

Closing her laptop resolutely, she threw it on the nearby table and fetched a trashcan. Better be safe than sorry.

Matthew looked horrified at the trashcan, sitting upright to lean against the backrest. He scowled at her and then burped instead whatever he wanted to say, pushing a hand over his mouth. 

“I’m-m not gonna throw up,” he declared, a fighting glint in his eyes. He was radiating heat. She could feel it even standing up. She cracked the window open and then sat beside him, pushing the trashcan nearer with her foot. 

He glared at her and then belched. A shiver ran through him and he swallowed hard. His breaths came in short, panting huffs.

Then he pitched forward with a painful-sounding retch. Seline quickly grabbed the trashcan and brought it close, just in time for him to hunch over it. Another retch wracked his body and he lurched violently over the trashcan. Nothing came up. Only a few drops of saliva hang from his lips.

“Mattie. You are doing fine. Psshh. Just let it happen.” She pulled his hoodie down and dared to put a hand on his back, rubbing gently.

The movement coaxed up another burp. Matthew panted over the trashcan, eyes opening and shutting hard. He grimaced and spat into the bag, looking offended and angry to boot. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Seriously, you don’t-”

“For real,” he interrupted, looking at her from the side. “I didn’t mean to come to your place to hurl. I never mean it and it somehow always happens and I’m really sorry. I can leave if you-”

“Oh, shut it,” she said with a small grin. “It’s okay. I’m not letting you leave like this. So stay put and get better.”

He smiled slightly in return, then grimaced. “Seline?”

“Yes?”

“I hate this.” 

She laughed softly at that and leaned closer. Matthew took the trashcan from her hands and buried his head inside it. Putting both her hands on his back, she felt his whole spine shake with the next lurch that finally brought chunky liquid out. She winced as it splashed against the plastic.

A slight pause came. Matthew lifted his head hesitantly. His nose was running and there was vomit hanging from his lips and chin. 

Seline patted his arm. “Be right back.” She hurried to get a paper roll from the kitchen before sliding behind Matthew. He had his feet planted on the floor, trashcan between his knees, head hanging low over it, looking helpless and lost. But he sighed at her touch.

She offered him one of the papers, but his grip on the trashcan didn’t loosen one bit. She gave up and wiped his chin herself, catching all the droplets and throwing the crumpled sheet into the trash. “There you go. You are alright.” 

Matthew stayed silent, blinking hazily. Then his back arched and he was heaving again. She raised herself on her knees with his back in between and rubbed at the sweaty pullover. 

When he pitched forward with a loud throaty gurgle, she sneaked a hand under his hoodie, over his stomach. Seline wasn’t sure what was allowed or not, but he didn’t protest her administrations, so she went with the feeling. His middle was bloated and tense under her hand, puffed out despite all the emptying his body been doing from both ends. 

Matthew moaned against her and she could feel his stomach muscles clenching against her hand. She kneaded against the gurgly organ, which ushered a burp out and a handful of milky sickness. At least it was more watery now, coming easier.

Matthew gagged and heaved, a torrent of liquid rushing out. He was left coughing and catching his breath for a few more minutes, even when he came up empty. Then he let go of the trashcan and tipped back, unknowingly leaning against her chest. She squicked quietly and laughed. “Okay, okay, easy, big guy.”

Seline slid from behind him and helped him ease against the couch until he was lying down, propped up on two pillows. When she stood up to get rid of the stinking bag, she felt a tug on her sleeve.

“Where-...are you…?” Matthew blinked sleepily, dazed and confused. It wasn’t fair. Why did she suddenly feel so protective of him? His dark brown eyes looked like big chocolate cookies, lost in his ashen face. 

Taking mercy on him, she twisted the bag shut and pushed it aside, sitting down next to his head. “Shhh. I’m not going anywhere.”

They sat in silence as Matthew took deep breaths, his chest rising and falling irregularly before evening out. His eyes slid shut and he reached out a hand towards her. Seline could do nothing but take it, holding it over his shoulder. Effectively trapped beside him. 

Pretty sure he would never allow himself such a touch if he was fully coherent. But with the fever raging against him and with how dizzy and exhausted he was after the bounds of vomiting, she could see a completely different side to her gruff red-haired protector. Protector? She still thought his shadow was more of a hindrance to him, but he was getting better. This human weakness was proof.

She slipped her fingers over his forehead, pulling the sweaty strands from his face. Then she combed them through his hair.

Matt grumbled softly, sounding content.

#ask #sickfic #emeto #emetophilia #vomiting #whump #my writing #emeto writing #hurt/comfort #stomach flu #werwolf wip #hey it took only 4 days #I'm happy ^^ #finally writing a bunch #Matt