#sick day fluff

[starstruckunknown-princess]

I’ll Do Anything

Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Warnings: None, just fluff!

Summary: After a mission with Steve goes awry, you end up with a massive cold so Steve stops by to take care of you.

Word Count: 857

A/N: Fluffcember Day 5! I’m loving the love these fics are getting, seriously I’m flattered. Hope you reblog/follow/like this one! Enjoy!

Your entire sinus cavity felt filled with lead, the pressure causing a monstrous headache. You were surrounded by used tissues and half-drunk mugs of tea that had all gone cold. Your body ached all over and your throat burned when you tried to swallow. 

“Damn you, Rogers and your stupid muscle-y frame. Cracking the ice and shit, being all superhuman and not getting sick but guess who gets to feel like shit for a week? Me!” You mutter to yourself as you haul your comforter over your shoulders as you sit up on the couch, looking for the remote.

On a mission last week, you and Steve had been chasing a HYDRA agent across a frozen river. You both had thought it was frozen solid, but the second you’d gotten too far away from the shore you found that it wasn’t. You’d both plunged into the icy water, and now the universe was kicking you while you were down. Not only had you lost the agent you were pursuing, but now you had the worst cold you’d had in a long time.

“Well if that’s how you feel,” Steve’s voice sounded from behind you. You turned sharply and saw him at the door to your apartment, holding a steaming pot of something between two oven mitted hands. “I guess I’ll just bring this back upstairs.” 

“Wait, no! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. Don’t leave!” You croaked and Steve chuckled, moving toward the stove in your kitchen and placing the pot on top of it.

“Tony’s got you isolated, huh?”

“I’m surprised he even let you come see me. Who knew Stark was such a germaphobe?” 

Steve chuckled. The sound was music to your ears. “I’m sure he’s got a full decontamination shower waiting for me outside the door.”

Laughing hurt, but you did anyway as you pulled the comforter along with you, getting up from the couch to go investigate exactly what Steve had brought, but the supersoldier was on you faster than you could blink.

“No way, you need to rest,” he said, gently taking your shoulders and steering you back to the couch. 

“Can I at least know what’s in the pot?” You asked, eyebrow raised.

Steve brushed some of your hair out of the way and cupped your face in his palm. His fingers were warm on your skin and if you hadn’t been so feverish you would’ve noticed how your body heated at his proximity. Your eyes closed against the touch, leaning into it like a cat and wishing he would touch you like that more often. Preferably when you didn’t feel like death warmed over.

“It’s chicken noodle soup, secret family recipe. You want a bowl?” 

You only nodded. His hand disappeared and the warmth with it so you opened your eyes and watched him ladle two bowls of soup. He brought them over and sat next to you, closer than he normally would’ve, you noticed, and you couldn’t help but lean against him a little, curling your body around the steaming bowl and further into your blanket.

The two of you ate quietly, the only sounds in the room from the show you’d been binging and the gentle clink of spoons on the ceramic bowls, followed by gentle slurps. The quiet was comfortable, though, and neither of you felt the need to break it.

When you’d finished, Steve collected your bowl and brought them over to the sink before coming back and collecting all the mugs you’d accumulated on the coffee table. 

“You don’t have to-” you started, but he interrupted.

“I know, but I want to,” he smiled up at you and your heart skipped a beat. “It’s the least I can do after plunging you into that river.”

“I was just kidding, you know, I don’t actually blame you.” Your voice followed him to the kitchen sink where he dumped out the mugs and loaded them into the dishwasher.

“I know. Doesn’t mean I don’t blame myself.”

You whipped around, noting his tense frame and the white-knuckle grip he had on the rinsed bowl. He blamed himself for so much, and you just had to run your mouth and add to his grief. You reached out your hand and gently said, “Hey, come here.”

Steve complied, leaving his chore. His large fingers wrapped around yours. You tugged him toward you, sitting him on the couch next to you. “I really don’t blame you. I’ll be fine.”

“I just don’t like seeing you hurting, doll.” He traced his hand over your cheek again and you swore that if he kept doing that you would, indeed, start purring. “Wish I could do something.”

“You can.”

“Anything.”

“Cuddle me?” You fluttered your eyelashes up at him and a smile split his face wide open. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and you threw your legs over his lap. You rested your head against his broad, muscled chest and listened to his heartbeat while whatever you’d been watching kept playing. Eventually you fell asleep, wrapped in Steve’s warm embrace, and even though you felt like garbage you’d never felt more content.

#steve rogers x you #steve rogers #captain america x reader #cap x reader #avengers fic #chris evans #captain america #fluffcember #writing challenge #fanfiction #fanfic writing challenge #sick!reader #sick day fluff #steve rogers x reader #avengers fanfic

[reztoru]

Satoru is late, again. He didn't mean to be, he just seen some tasty sweets on his way back to Jujutsu Tech and couldn't help himself. He could totally just warp himself to the school. But that would make sense and Satoru Gojo does things with no rhyme or reason.

But he's kinda thankful he didn't just teleport to the school, or else he wouldn't have seen you like this, with his students.

Doting on them like you were their parent. Poking at Megumi's cheek to bother him, laughing with Yuji and scheming with Nobara on more ways you can prod at the boys.

You've probably told them to make sure to drink enough water during today's training — seeing a group of water bottles that you most definitely stole from the house all lined up. And you're probably gonna make him take you all out for lunch for being late. After you've scolded him of course.

And Satoru takes a moment to just watch. His mind wandering. He couldn't think of a better person to be training with his students. His family. And what if he grows his family with you? Having an embodiment of the love you share, running around the empty halls of your home. Making the little trio watch the baby so you can go out for dates.

Taking turns waking up in the middle of the night to tend to the baby. Coming home the next day to find you napping with the little bundle of joy tucked into your side. Probably having fallen asleep watching that one Disney movie for the nth time because the baby loves it so much.

Embarrassingly, he thinks about it a lot, but he's never sure how to bring it up. How does he tell you all he can think about is you? How does he tell you his biggest desire, in a place where everything feels so dark and gloomy, is that he wouldn't mind a little more of your light; a little more of you in the world.

#☾ spirit writes ☽ #i was sick all day yesterday and wrote this #im delusional #this is the result #— ⊰ with the stars ⊱ #gojou x reader #gojou x y/n #gojou x you #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #gojo fluff

[poppyflavour]

She doesn't know where to look

#I'm sorry fluff lovers hello angst enjoyers #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel art #art #art video #sir pentious #cherri bomb #cherrisnake #snakebomb #angst #sir pentious x cherri bomb #art on tumblr #artists on tumblr #tv girl #It was supposed to be finished on the work days but i got sick and felt as shit lol

[kentosbabes]

m not sure if you did this, but how about nanami and sick reader? sorry my daddy issues are speaking rn

Omg this could not have come at a better time, I'm delusional AND I was sick yesterday xxx

Nanami and sick reader

Nanami who comes home to you being sick in the bathroom, he ties up your hair and gets you water. His hand stroking your head and patting your back methodically and asking if you are ok.

Nanami who never misses a day from work calls his boss telling him he won't be in, he knows he would be too worried about you to leave the house. He would be too preoccupied with you running his head to even think about leaving you by yourself.

Nanami who makes you breakfast, plain bread with butter, water and medicine he stepped out to buy while you were having a nap. He really wishes that he could make something better but this is all you can eat without being sick again.

Nanami who makes you lemon and honey tea when you start to feel a little better, his mother used to give it to him when he was sick and it is only fitting that you get the same treatment.

Nanami who reads to you to get you to sleep again, he picks up a book from your 'pile' on your bedside table. He happens to pick up Pride and Prejudice and even does the British accents with the voices.

Nanami who begs you to take it easy after you wake up and want to finish some work. "Are you going to be a good girl? Let me take care of you." He knows you feel uncomfortable just doing nothing at home whilst there is still work to be completed so he tries to make you feel better by distracting you.

Nanami who presses kisses on your forehead and your cheek despite you telling him he's going to get sick as well, he only responds with, "Then we can be sick together."

Nanami who checks your fever by placing the back of his large hand on your forehead, he strokes your hair and starts to play with it lying down and grabbing the remote to put some true crime documentary on Netflix you've been meaning to watch.

Nanami who made you some chicken noodle soup from scratch using his grandmother's recipe, the smell woke you up and you walked into the kitchen seeing him wearing the novelty pink frilly apron Gojo got him for his birthday and his long-sleeved top rolled back to his elbows.

Nanami who sat you down promptly, once realising that you can't lift the spoon well due to your weakness, he started to feed you. He wiped the soup on your chin with one hand and went back to holding yours.

Nanami whose hands traced circles into your back whilst you cuddled him on the sofa. He started to give you a proper massage and even got the oils out from the bathroom cabinet. His large and dexterous hands squeezed and pulled all the knots in your neck from sleeping all day. "You know I love those cute noises you’re making sweetheart."

Nanami who sleeps with you, legs entwined with yours, his hands encircling your waist and his head on your neck. Nanami wants to keep you as close as possible to him as much as he can. The warmth and rhythmic breathing makes it easier for you both to sleep. He thinks you're asleep so he starts to confess to you, "I love you so much I don't think I could live without you," and "I got so worried this morning I don't think I could've gone into the office without leaving an hour in."

masterlist

#nanami headcanons #kento nanami #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento #nanami kento drabble #nanami kento x you #kento nanami x y/n #kento nanami fluff #nanami fluff #nanami x reader #sickfic #sick day #hes so bbg #i love him #lawd have mercy

[roanniom]

Eddie would totally make you soup when you're sick.

He'd open the can, pour it in a mug, stick it in the microwave, even stick a spoon in it and bring it to you. The works! 😂

Eddie Munson x Reader

I feel like the poor man would have the self awareness to be a little sheepish about it. Rubbing the back of his neck with a little smile as he hands it to you.

“The Munson special, m’lady. Only the finest, as Uncle Wayne used to say.”

You look up at him with warm, teary eyes.

“It’s perfect, Eds, thanks.”

You say it earnestly. Not like you’re playing along with him or agreeing with his sarcasm. Your lover made you something to make you feel better. It’s something you genuinely appreciate. Eddie sits down next to you, a bit pinker around the cheeks, and watches you swallow your first spoonful.

“I promise I’ll learn how to…actually, you know, make soup so that next time…” he shrugs, clearly uncomfortable with himself. “I can ask Nancy for a recipe or something—,”

“Eddie,” you say quietly, hushing him with the sound of his name and with your hand placed lightly on his knee. “All I need is for you to be here with me. Nothing else.”

It seems like it’s his turn for tears to cloud his vision, and suddenly you’re doing your best to hold the mug full of soup aloft as Eddie envelopes your body in a hug.

“Baby, you’re gonna get sick,” you try to admonish, but he just holds you tighter.

“Don’t care,” he mumbles into your neck, almost childishly.

You hum and hug him back, not sure you care either.

#Issa’s Sick Day #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader

[newcomernewcums]

got hit with a cold today so... price/sick reader? 🥲

We got fluffy Price stat for egg:

Price has never really had the ability to relax. He thinks he lost it somewhere in his teens—too hyped up on whatever hormonal mix was fucking with his body—or in the first week of basic training, drilled out if him as quick as possible.

Whatever the actual reason, he never finds himself sitting down and having a moment. Never takes the time to watch a movie or eat a full meal. Every time he thinks to try he ends up jittery, distracted, mind running too fast, going back to the research he needs to do for the next mission, or what he could add to the last report to make it more precise, better data for to learn from for the future. Make sure he knows every outcome, every wild possibility, make sure that he knows how to get his team home every time without fail.

He hadn’t even seriously tried to relax before you.

Its probably the way you’ve managed to crawl into every aspect of his life, on base and off. If he’s not training you he’s on a mission with you, if its not a mission its silently doing paperwork next to you, if he’s not with you at all (a rare occurrence these days) he’s checking the clock every 3 minutes, willing that his glare will make time go by faster.

He finds he really enjoys having you underfoot, an arms length away, it allows him to reach you whenever he wants, take your hand in his or listen to you pattering on about something or other that you love. He remembers it all, loves memorizing your cadence, the lilt in your voice and the light in your eyes when he prompts you with questions or laughs at one of your stupid jokes.

He still doesn’t try to relax, though. Its not really a thought, you don’t seem to mind how he spends late nights in his office, or how he always finds more hours to put in at the gym. You just knock on his door with a blanket a book and a cup of coffee (it took you a surprisingly small amount of time to memorize how he likes it), or show up with an extra water bottle for him and offer to be his spotter.

You become so ingrained in his routine that he notices it immediately when you’re gone. It’s 8am when he reaches over to take your hand in his from where it usually rests on the edge of the desk, his brain buffering when he only finds empty space.

He checks your room first, finds the blanket stripped off the bed, which is… a little worrying. Until he heads back to his own room.

He should’ve assumed, really. You two have never actually slept slept together, trying to keep things as above-board and secretive as you can, but your self-preservation skills have always been shite so of course you’re curled up on his bed, burrowing into the two layers of blankets, completely knocked out.

He figures out what’s happening rather quickly—only having to take your face in one hand to feel the fever—before he’s rushing off to the communal kitchen for some tea and whatever cold medicine he can scrounge up from their meager medbay.

It takes a couple tries to wake you enough to get you to drink, avoiding an arm trying to swat him and chuckling at a withering glare for daring to disturb your nap (in his bed, he can’t seen to forget that). Once he’s satisfied though, he leans down to give you a kiss before getting up to go back to work, already reorganizing his own internal schedule.

He’s stopped by a soft hand on his wrist, looks back to find you reaching for him, pulling the blankets up to invite him in. He freezes.

“Please, John?” your voice sounds so sweet despite the rasp, so much like home, that its impossible for him to not kick off his shoes and slip under the covers next to you. Impossible to not curl his arms around you, bring your head into his chest, and fully breathe out for the first time in years. He’s lulled by the steady rhythm of your breathing, your small snores. He lies awake for hours just taking the time to enjoy your presence with no distractions.

He finally drifts off to sleep with the thought that he rather likes doing nothing when its with you.

#ask #Duuude i hope this is sick-day enough #egg post #Egg is sick and its a fucking travesty #how dare the world do egg like that #john price x reader #its just fluff #cod #captain price

[vvagustd]

hellohello! i was wanting to request a chishiya x sick!reader! im craving fluff rn and i love your ffs! -sincerely, anon! <3

i'm actually sick rn, wish chishiya was here to take care of me

✎ an apple a day - chishiya

[chishiya x sick!fem!reader]

synopsis - you get sick and chishiya takes care of you

warning! takes place post-borderlands but there's no spoilers or anything, just a light-hearted fluffy fic. slightly ooc chishiya

this one is short, but i hope you guys still like it ☆

Everything felt wrong.

You woke up with a sore throat and a massive headache, every bone in your body aching. Unwrapping yourself from Chishiya's arms, you sat up, immediately feeling dazed. Chishiya stirred next to you, "Y/n?," he called, "it's early, love. Why are you awake?" You tried to respond, instant pain hitting your sore throat. His hands rose to your forehead, pulling away the second they made contact. "God, Y/n, you're burning up." He got up, not even bothering to change out of his sleepwear, as he walked into the bathroom. He came back with a small cup, carrying a vile reddish liquid. "Oh no," you groaned, burying yourself face first into the pillows.

"Yes, Y/n. Now." He spoke softly yet firmly. The bed dipped where he sat down, his hands still holding the medicine. You whined in protest again, Chishiya sighing with a mix of frustration and annoyance. "Dear, I'm a doctor. Please take the damn medicine." Huffing in defeat, you turn over, grabbing the gut-wrenching liquid from his hand, and downing in. Chishiya chuckled at the face you made the second it reached your mouth. "Is it really that awful?" You glared at him, pushing the cup back into his hand and turning back over.

You had fallen asleep again and Chishiya sat on the foot of the bed, admiring your sleeping figure. You truly had to be the only person that could make him feel the way he does. Your hair was a mess, pieces sticking to your sweat-covered forehead, body radiating heat. And he still thought you were breath-taking.

-

You woke up a few hours later to the smell of ginger filling your nose. You got up and walked to the kitchen, Chishiya sitting down with two cups of tea and a kettle. "Ah, shogayu tea. Infamous cold remedy." You said with a smile on your face at how thoughtful Chishiya was. "I made this for me, not you." He said with a smirk, sliding the teacup towards you. "I guess an apple a day wasn't enough to keep the doctor away." You gratefully accepted it, taking a sip of the hot tea, it instantly warming you up.

"You know I love you, right?"

"You know you're insufferable when you're sick, right?"

#aib chishiya #chishiya #sick day #chishiya x reader #chishiya fic #alice in borderland #chishiya alice in borderland #imawa no kuni no arisu #chishiya fluff #aib season 2 #aib x reader #aib s2

[pahtoosh]

doctor daddy

[image ID: a behind the scenes photo of Sebastian Stan as Lee Bodecker from The Devil All The Time. He is standing with his hands in his pockets and looking off into the distance. /.end ID]

masterlist

18+

wc: ~980 words

warnings: Lee wants to beat someone up(no one in particular, he’s just frustrated), reader is in physical pain, mentions of painkillers, written on my phone, sappy and needy reader as usual. Lee carries reader.

a/n: this picture makes me giggle, I wonder what he’s thinking about.

pairing: lee bodecker x gn!little!reader

summary: Lee’s baby is hurting

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Pain and suffering: that’s all you knew. The sun never seemed so dull and the nights never seemed so cold. You wondered if you’d survive the ne-

“Baby?”

Oh! Daddy’s home!

Lee quickly toed off his shoes and met you at the couch, setting down his paper grocery bag along the way. You looked adorable swaddled up in a blanket with your stuffed bunny, but Lee’s heart couldn’t help but ache for you.

You’d been stuck on the couch all day. Standing or even sitting up required too much energy, not to mention that shifting positions could mean upsetting your body further.

Earlier today Lee wanted to call in sick and tend to you, but you assured him that you would be okay as he went on with his shift at the station. He lovingly carried you to the couch where he’d set up everything you could’ve possibly needed while he was gone. Blankets, painkillers, snacks, water, books, and the TV remote were all within reach. Your daddy left you with a kiss on the forehead and strict instructions to rest up, drink water, eat a snack, and call him if you needed help.

You obliged with a yes, daddy and made it through the next seven hours still in pain, bored, and missing your daddy. You were so happy when he came home, but your state meant you had to wait for him to come to you instead of running to meet him at the door as usual. Luckily, Lee wasted no time getting to your side. He’d missed you just as much as you’d missed him.

He held your smaller hand in his and gave you three gentle kisses on your forehead, the tip of your nose, and your puffed out lip. Lee normally loved your pouty face but knowing that this one was caused by your state of pain rather than an adorable neediness made it less enjoyable. He almost wished there was a single person responsible for your pain so he could take it out on them, but he knew all he could do now was be here for you.

“How ya feelin’ sweetie?”

“Hurts, Daddy.”

Lee muttered a curse under his breath and gently massaged the hand he was holding. “My poor baby. ‘ wish there was somethin’ I could do to help. I could beat up someone right now, makes me so mad seein’ my baby hurt like this.”

You shook your head and pulled his hand closer. “Just need Daddy.”

Lee smiled for the first time that day. “And you’ll get him, sweetheart. Just let me help ya out a little first, yeah? I stopped by the store and got somethin’.”

You raised your eyebrows in curiosity. Lee normally just bought the essentials, and you technically had everything you could need to recover at home already. He tucked your arm back under the blanket and began pulling stuff out of the bag.

“I gotcha a different kinda pain medicine, this one’s a cream. There’s a new thermometer, in case the old one wasn’ workin’ right and my baby really is sick. This here’s a new pair of socks to keep yer feet warm and protected. And this is a lollipop for being my good ‘n brave little baby.”

You admired your new socks and treat with a soft thank you daddy and let Lee fuss over you with his new supplies. He cleaned the new thermometer and let out a sigh of relief when it confirmed that you were at a safe temperature. He swapped out your old, worn-out socks with the new, softer ones. And then he carefully peeled back the blanket and your clothing to rub in the pain-relief cream.

After Lee washed his hands, he climbed in behind you on the couch, replacing the numerous pillows and blankets with his solid body. His round belly fit perfectly into the curve of your back, and his strong arms acted like a weighted blanket. He knew just how to support you to keep you comfortable and ease your pain.

In this position, he could also speak to you in a hushed tone and feel butterflies in his chest whenever you whispered back or snuggled closer to him.

You asked him about his day. He kept it brief, mostly talking about how much he missed you. He only shared the details of his work with you when you were at your big age; Lee was very diligent about preserving the safety of your little mind.

He turned the question on you, listening to you describe the episodes of Bugs Bunny you watched and what antics your stuffies got into today. He loved hearing about your inner world. Lee never got to explore his imagination too much. His responsibilities kept him tied to the real world, so he admired that you were able to keep that part of you alive while still dealing with your own issues.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence before you were overcome with the need to tell your daddy how much you appreciate him.

“Thank you for takin’ care of me, Daddy.”

Lee kissed the back of your head. “It’s no problem, sweetheart. That’s what daddies are for. You feelin’ any better? That pain medicine doin’ its job yet?”

“Mhm.” You nodded and then turned your head to muffle your next sentence, shy about the sappy words about to leave your mouth. “Daddy’s the best medicine though.”

Lee chuckled and pulled you closer if that was possible. “Oh yeah? What makes ya say that?”

You squeezed his arms wrapped around you and wiggled against his belly, proving your point. “Daddy’s soft and cozy and strong. And Daddy gives the best cuddles.”

Lee shook his head, not believing how lucky he was to have you in his life. “Daddy loves you, baby. And I’ll never stop cuddling you.”

#i got the owies today and wrote this while in bed #i could not stand but at least daddy lee was there for me🫶 #i was going to write specifically about menstruation pain bc that’s what I’ve got rn but there’s a good bit of those fics out there already #maybe I’ll do that another day but I wanted this to be less specific so it could apply to more readers #to any of you babies are in this with me: I hope your pain eases soon #lee bodecker x little!reader #daddy!lee bodecker x little!reader #lee bodecker x gn!little!reader #gn!little!reader #sick!reader #hurt!reader #comfort #cuddles #soft!daddy!lee bodecker #oneshot #fluff #cg!lee bodecker #sfw regression #toosh writes #doctor daddy #doctor-daddy #little being carried

[pixlokita]

Fic: -and the literal dead character who can’t even eat or sleep or feel anything and is in eternal agony knew his friend had it worse than them, sure the friend was alive and depressed but being dead meant they weren’t suffering like their alive friend was who btw was also the reason they died slowly and painfully in the first place -

Dead character: -also feels guilty for blaming their friend for literally killing them even though they legit DIED because of them-

Me:

Me: no I’m sure the dead character has it worse.

#and ironically this isn’t even something I first saw in fnaf #it’s like wayyyy back from mystery skulls too #like yeah i get it you want them to get along #but boy 😭 they do not have it worse. #i legit stop reading mid sentence when it gets like that and look at the camera like in the office #so depression and guilt are bad yeah but eternal suffering in some sort of limbo is def worse #fnaf #msa #like don’t get me wrong I love reconciliation and angst and fluff #but =w= dont gaslight the literal victim please #AUGH #sorry yall I am sick for days and tired and stressed lmao

[osamusriceballs]

The Accident - Part VII

Atsumu x fem reader

Warnings: None

Words: ~ 2k

About: You talk to your mysterious friend and finally part from Atsumu.

Part I II -> Next part

"It's me. I'm okay- please don't worry. I'll be back soon."

"Where have you been? I was worried sick; I've tried calling you all night! You just texted me that everything's alright at 4am, but what's going on? Where are you?"

The voice comes out of the phone, quickly and fast as always, and you hold the phone a bit further away from your ear. "Please, I'm okay, I promise!" You can hear a few deep breaths on the other side, probably the attempt to calm down, and then the voice speaks again.

"Where are you right now? I'll come and pick you up, and then you can tell me everything."

"I'm at the—" you hesitate and then look at the name on the towel and read it out loud. "Do you know where that is?"

"Give me a second." You hear typing noises on the other side and then a little gasp. "That's an expensive hotel! One night costs 500 bucks, and the suits are literally thousands of dollars per night!"

"What?!" you're speechless for a few moments, realizing just how much money Atsumu might own—you are in a suite after all and you definitely did not pay for it.

"It will take some time to get there. I'll be there in an hour? I'll send you my location. Is there someone else with you?" Your thoughts drift to Atsumu, and you hum. "Yes. And I need to ask for a favor. Do you have a lawyer? Or do you know someone who maybe knows someone who can help me with a divorce for cheap?"

"A divorce? Who needs a—wait. Are you talking about yourself? Did you get married?" The voice is so shrill and loud that you almost flinch, and you find yourself regretting revealing that fact already. "I'll tell you the details later. Please don't worry about me." You try to sound as calm and soothing as you can, and after a few shocked gasps, you hear silence again on the other hand. "Hello? Are you still there?"

"Yes. I'll come and get you, and then you'll have to tell me everything."

You agree, and after a few more times of you repeating that you'll be fine and that you're being taken care of, you hang up. You take a deep breath, and without thinking too much about it, you quickly undress and go into the shower.

It's like heaven. The warm water feels soothing on your skin, and there are more products in the shower than you have ever used so far, but you find yourself drawn to the pretty bottles and decide to spoil yourself. It's not your water bill after all, and if Atsumu is paying for it, you can go all out and spend a few more minutes in the shower. The towels are fluffy and warm, thanks to the towel warmer, and you find yourself pressing your face against the soft fabric and inhaling the fresh and clean smell. The mirror is foggy by now, you probably showered at too hot a temperature, but the warm water just felt so good on your skin.

A soft knock on the door brings your attention back to reality, and you find yourself stepping closer to the pompous wooden door. "Y/n? I put the clothes in front of the door. Samu and I will wait on the balcony; you can get them anytime."

"Thanks!" you respond and hear footsteps leaving the room and a loud sound that's probably the window closing behind them. You wait a few more moments just to be sure that they are gone, and then you open the door a little bit to take the small pile of clothes.

It's a shirt with the hotel name, surprisingly tasteful due to the minimalistic logo of the expensive establishment, as well as a matching pair of sweatpants as well as a pair of socks. The fabric is soft, and you quickly put on the new clothes, only regretting that you have to wear your old panties, but there is not much you can do about it.

You take one last look at your phone, quickly checking your appearance one last time, wishing you'd have the time to wash your hair too, but you'll do that when you're back in your hotel room. You're just glad that you feel clean and warm now.

You step out of the room, feeling a little better and more alive already, and look around. You find Atsumu and Osamu standing on the balcony, both of them busy in a heated discussion, and you watch them for a few moments from your position after you noticed that they are not looking in your direction yet.

They are undeniably related. You can find similarities in the way they speak, in the way they use they hands when they talk and in the way they stand. They are both very attractive—something that you can freely admire now that they haven't seen you yet.

A notification on your phone informs you that your friend will reach you in a few minutes, and when you look up, you see that the twins have stopped talking and instead watch you through the window in silence. You pause momentarily and then lift your hand to wave at them. Atsumu's eyes take in your new clothes, checking you out from head to toe, and he gives you an approving thumbs up and a grin. Osamu rolls his eyes at Atsumu and simply pushes the door open.

"Hey. I'm glad the clothes fit." He comments, and you look down at yourself at his words. "Yeah, me too. Thanks. I appreciate it a lot; I feel so much better already."

Atsumu also steps into the room again, making sure to bump his shoulder against Osamu's when he passes him, ignoring the curse of the dark-haired male.

"Ya look better already. Feelin' alright again?" His voice is still tinted with the slightest bit of concern, and you smile at his words.

"Yes, thank you. I'm sorry for being so weird before. I was just a bit overwhelmed." Atsumu shakes his head and buries his hands in his pockets. "Don't sweat it. That's normal. Gettin' married like this is a pretty unusual thing after all."

"Right. Uhm. My friend will pick me up soon; I'll get downstairs and wait there. I'll give you my number, and then you can call me as soon as you find out more?" You look at him questioningly, and he is quick to fish for his phone in his back pocket. "Sounds good. I'll wait with ya till yer friend arrives." He watches while you type in your number and quickly save it. "Oh, you don't have to. I'll find the way on my own, don't worry." You shake your head, but he quickly wraps an arm around your shoulders and leads you to the door. "Nah, I insist. Where are your shoes?" You let him guide you, his arm around your shoulders feeling somewhat heavy but comforting while you look around for your high heels from last night. Atsumu guides you to the chair next to the door and ushers you to sit on it while he grabs the black shoes from the ground. "Do ya think they'll fit with the socks?" He asks with a frown, and you just shrug your shoulders as a response. "I hope so. I don't want to leave without socks; I don't even want to wear the shoes, to be honest."

His brows furrow while he looks at your feet. "Sorry, I wish we had some other shoes for ya." You quickly shake your head. "It's fine. It's just for the way downstairs. It's okay." He nods and kneels in front of you, and you subconsciously slide back on the chair as far as you can to create some distance between the two of you. "What are you doing?" He takes your left foot and places it on his thigh, and you feel every single muscle in your body tensing at the sudden contact. "Helpin' with yer shoes. Stay still for me."

You're at a loss for words while he slips the shoe on your foot; all you can do is stare at him while he secures it around your ankle. Surprisingly, it fits around your socked foot, and he nods before he lets go of your foot and reaches for the other. It doesn't take him long to get it on your foot too, and you shortly admire how skilled he is with his fingers, and then he places them both on the ground. "There ya go." He hums satisfied and gets on his feet, quickly offering you his hand to stand up. At this point, you just accept it and take his hand, allowing him to lead you to the door.

"Uhm. Bye, Osamu. See you. Maybe." You turn around and wave at the dark-haired twin who had made no attempt to come with you, and he nods acknowledgingly. "See ya."

You follow Atsumu through the door, who seems to be familiar with the hotel because he is quick to lead you to an outrageously big elevator. It's silent on the ride downstairs. You're standing each on different sides of the elevator, leaning against the walls, your bodies no longer touching. You don't really know what to say to him; you're too deep in thought right now, and he seems to feel somewhat similar.

"The exit is right there." He motions to the other end of the hall as soon as you get out of the elevator, and you hum while you follow him to the doors. You're lucky that there are barely people around because you certainly feel a bit underdressed with the clothes from the shop, but Atsumu doesn't even spare a glance to anyone you're passing. The receptionist greets you without batting an eye at your unusual attire; you're fairly certain that you both give a very unusual sight. Atsumu with his formal dress pants and half-opened dress shirt, and you with the hotel shirt and sweatpants and heels from last night. Surely not an everyday sight, but professionalism prevents her from looking longer at you.

It does not take long until you both stand in front of the hotel, just far enough from the entrance not to bother other guests but still close enough to see everyone who enters the building. You both stand there for a few moments in mutual silence, until you look up at him with a faint smile. "Thank you for showing me the way. I'll manage from here on. You can get back to Osamu; it's alright."

He frowns at your words and looks around.

"Can I really leave you here?" He looks a bit worried, and you nod with a tight smile. You really need some time to think about everything. "My friend will pick me up soon. You can go back to Osamu; it's fine, really!"

He hesitates for a second, probably not fully convinced that everything's fine, and the next thing you know is that his big arms surround you and pull you into a hug. You're stiff at first, unsure how you should react, but the comfort and familiarity that he is radiating by now makes it all too easy to melt into his touch and to hug him back. "Y/n. I meant it. I'll take care of ya, okay? Everything's gonna be alright. I'll make sure of that."

"Hmm." You hum against his shoulder, deeply inhaling his comfortable smell, and his grip tightens around you. "And if ya need anything—anything at all—call me. Anytime." You nod, hoping that he can feel your response and your gratitude because you don't trust your voice right now. You know you should probably pull back, but it feels too good to be in his arms, too good to be close to him, so you just stay, and he seems willing to let you.

"Y/n!" You hear someone yelling your name behind you, and you quickly pull yourself out of Atsumu's arms. You turn around and face a familiar face with big brown eyes which flicker from you to Atsumu with a surprised expression.

"Wait—Atsumu Miya? What are you doing here?"

Your jaw drops, and you turn your head back to Atsumu, who looks equally surprised to see your friend.

"You know each other?!"

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #atsumu #atsumu x reader #atsumu fluff #I feel like I'm stretching a few things here #but I just enjoyed writing the details rn somehow #I hope you enjoyed it too! <3 #I feel like it's always easy to guess my mood from my writing #I was in no rush and relaxing today #because I'm a bit sick and spent the day in bed #I already started writing the next part #I might be able to post it tomorrow #I hope you're excited to meet y/n's friend! <3 #it's definitely someone you know #and someone you maybe wouldn't have expected #but I wanted to show some appreciation for that character <3 #I wanted to keep it a surprise until the next part

[vintagesuga]

Are you serious! - Y.Jeongin

Genre: Fluff, semi sick fic. Like I mentioned, he is sick but don't go into detail

Pairing: Yang Jeongin x gn!reader

Warning: mentions of food

a/n: I missed his bday live :( Any who happy birthday to Man bread. He hasn't been a baby for quite some time, lol. Just a cute little thing. Not proofread.

You sighed as you hung up the phone. Of course, this would happen because when have you ever planned something and it didn't end up in flames? All you wanted was to throw a nice little party for Jeongin, but the universe took that personally. You had just gotten off the phone with the bakery. Apparently, their entire batch of frosting was made wrong, so they would have to make a whole new batch. This would mean that you had to push back the dinner you planned so you could have the cake on time.

Then, when you had picked up the balloons earlier, they all had been the wrong ones. Instead of the cute fox themed balloons you wanted, they had made you cat themed ones instead. It wasn't that big of a deal (it was), so you didn't make a huge fuss, but still.

Now you couldn't find his present either. It was a custom-made bracelet with both Jeongin and your birthday plus your anniversary date. A little cringe, but he loved wearing bracelets, and you wanted to give him a special one. You knew you had put the box in your closet. Made sure that it was there all the time. But now, nothing. It was as if it had vanished into thin air.

So here you stood at the jewelers, looking for a sufficient stand-in. Assessing your options and making sure it was perfect. Once you were done looking, you paid and made your way to your car. All that was left was to pick up the cake and meet Jeongin at your place for a nice quiet dinner. No more fuss, no more running around.

“Hey Angel. I think I caught a stomach bug. Can we reschedule that dinner you had planned?” Jeongin’s hoarse voice never sounded more upsetting than it did right now. Of course, you weren't upset with him. You could never be upset with him.

It was just the circumstances you found yourself in. Every single thing you planned today just ended up being a nuisance.

“But, I. Today is the worst!” You exclaimed angrily at the sky. You huffed as you opened your car door and climbed inside.

“Oh? What happened today?” Jeongin asked, curious as to what made you so upset.

“Where do I even start? I had this cute dinner planned for us tonight. I had balloons and a cake planned, but the balloons ended up being the wrong ones. Then the bakery called and said that they had to push my pick up back cause their frosting was botched.” Once you started, you couldn't stop.

“When I went to look for your present, I couldn't find it, which really sucks cause I thought it was so cute and now I can't give it to you. So I went looking for another present. Like, I know you don't care about materialistic stuff like that, but I do. And now, you're sick.” You took a breather.

“I'm not upset at you cause that's something you can't help. But I just wanted to have a nice surprise for dinner tonight.”

Jeongin was silent on his end for a moment. He thought it was cute. Your plans for tonight sounded so sweet, but you went through so much trouble.

“Why don't you come over still. You can bring some balloons and my cake, give me my present and we can watch a movie. Just because I'm sick doesn't mean I can't see you. I need my daily dose of (name).” You could practically hear the smile in Jeongin's voice.

“I was already planning on coming over regardless. I need to baby you when you're sick. It's the only time you let me dote on you.” Your tone was a mix between teasing and pouty. Still a little spur about all the misfortune you had gone through. “Let me go and pick up your cake, grab like 2 or 3 balloons, and I'll be over there, ok?”

When the door opened, you were met with Jeongin's bright smile. He was wrapped head to toe with his biggest blanket. You could still see the hoodie he was wearing poking out, his feet covered by the fluffier socks he could find. His nose and cheeks were pink, and he was sniffling here and there. His hair was all over the place. Despite his suffering, he was just so cute.

“Do I get to peek at the cake now, or do I have to wait?” He laughed as he took the box from you. He placed it on the kitchen counter as you found some bowls for the soup you brought. You ended up tying the balloons down in the living room.

“No. You have to wait.” You shuffled around him, shooing him out of the kitchen. “But you can open your present.”

You handed Jeongin the small bag. Watching carefully as he opened the jewelry box inside. The bracelet wasn't too grand, just a simple little thing with a small charm; your initial.

“It's nothing too special, and I still plan on giving you your other present. I'm going to tear apart my room if I have to.”

“No. I think this is perfect.” Jeongin’s smile was blinding. He wasn't going to deny your other gift, but he wanted you to know that he still loved this one. You walked over to him, bowls of soup in hand. Jeongin placed a sweet kiss to your cheek, taking a bowl from you and following behind.

“The only present I care about is seeing your face at the end of the day.” Jeongin watched in delight as your cheeks flushed. You were so easy to fluster, and he found great joy in showering you in compliments.

“Gross.” You fein disgust as you wipe your cheek. “I don't ever want to hear you being so sappy again.”

“But you love it!”

“Shut up and eat your soup.”

©️vintagesuga Do not repost.

#stray kids #skz #stray kids imagines #yang jeongin x reader #skz jeongin #happy birthday jeongin #jeongin fluff #sick fic #happy i.n day #stray kids imagine #jyp stray kids #stray kids fanfiction #yang jeongin #yang jeongin fanfic

[steddieyes]

Ness never gets sick. And when he does, to put it lightly, it fucking sucks.

He's usually zooming all over the place, taking orders (in the diner, duhh) left and right, making cheery remarks and comments to whoever, and flashing that cheery grin.

And then he gets sick. Looks like he hasn't slept in a month, paler than the uniform on his back, and his eyebags are like nothing you've ever seen. Andy doesn't even give him the chance to tie his apron before he's shoving him out the back door with an order to go home and sleep "for ONCE, Ness".

And no matter what disease or sickness he's picked up after working and theorising 25/8, he always gets the sniffles. Constantly has a rose tipped nose and tissues by his side. He doesn't even have a cold or anything of that kind, but a runny nose always comes to haunt him. He hates it. He whines about it to Mike who jokes that he has a curse, which of course sends Ness falling deep into the rabbit hole of disturbing the paranormal and the consequences behind jt (its all tied to the freddys case, its always tied to the freddys case). Mike puts him on bedrest for a week, even notepads are banned until he's better.

I lobe him:(

(This is what I was thinking of but in Mike's room and more eepy and sick and miserable, he needs eep)

#securitywaiter #ness the waiter #mike schmidt #ness x mike schmidt #ness x mike #ness fnaf #fnaf ness #fnaf movie #dreamtheory #hes just a sick little guy #whining about being sick even though he hasnt given himself a rest day in months #silly goober 😔 #sick ness #fluff

[allfortzu]

i'll carry the moon and stars, i'll carry you and me

-- jihyo / tzuyu. 1.4k - light angst, fluff - hurt/comfort, light mentions of blood // MEN DNI.

tzuyu goes home to jihyo.

it’s late at night and pouring outside, a constant static of crashing cascades instead of rhythmic patters. 

jihyo still finds it calming, though. there’s always been something about the simultaneous state of disarray and comforting orderliness that came with storms and thunder. 

it also meant she had an excuse to curl up under a blanket and watch every movie she’d been neglecting. not that she needed one, but it was always nice to have. 

a little mundane for a detective, maybe, but some mundanity has always been needed to balance out a life like hers. 

peace in chaos, if you will. 

comforting orderliness in states of disarray. 

so, jihyo picks out her most comfortable pyjamas, and makes the best cup of tea she knows how to make – which only consists of choosing the most expensive brand of tea she has and actually boiling water instead of microwaving, but such is life. 

she’s still humming and waiting for the kettle to sound when her doorbell rings, a barely discernible ding in the storm. 

she pads her way from her kitchen to the living room, right up the entrance of her house. it’s too dark outside to see anything through the peephole, so she opens the slightest crack in her blinds.

the light from inside spills out, and the outline of a familiar figure is illuminated. 

jihyo opens the door instantly. instinctual, immediate. 

“tzuyu?” 

tzuyu looks up at the sound, and jihyo’s chest tightens. 

her cheeks are smeared with blood, gaze weak and lidded. her suit is ripped and there’s splashes of dirt and more blood over her usually stark white button up. everything is drenched in the downpour. her clothes drip with rain. 

tzuyu’s voice is painfully soft. 

she opens her mouth but nothing comes out, the rain drowning out every syllable. 

but jihyo hears her clearly. 

she knows when tzuyu says –

“jihyo unnie.”

jihyo’s heart shatters. 

she wants to tug tzuyu in by the wrist and ask her every question in her mind – what happened, are you okay, who did this – but tzuyu takes a single step in, and she loses all strength. 

“tzuyu!” 

jihyo surges forward; without thinking, without hesitance. 

tzuyu falls right into her arms. 

boneless, completely weak.

the rain from her clothes soak through jihyo’s pyjamas, she’s piercingly cold to the touch. jihyo feels her tremble, meek and shivering. every breath she takes comes out shakily, every exhale barely there.

jihyo’s never realised just how small tzuyu is, finding solace in her arms. 

it hurts terribly to see.

maybe it’s the adrenaline, or pure determination – but jihyo hoists tzuyu up with everything she has, carries her unfalteringly until they reach her shower. 

she sets tzuyu down and hurriedly pushes her damp blazer off; clenches her teeth at the sight of more blood revealed on the sleeves of tzuyu's white shirt. 

"who the hell did this, tzu?" jihyo seethes, pulling a towel off the rack and wrapping tzuyu up. "what happened?" 

"i don't know…" tzuyu says weakly, clutching at the towel and curling into herself for warmth. "some other gang– " 

then, softer; shakier, "sorry… you– you were the only person i could think of."

jihyo pulls tzuyu into her arms as tight as she's able to, presses tzuyu into her shoulder, cheek to temple. 

she's still worried sick, but at least tzuyu's conscious and speaking. 

at least tzuyu's here with her. 

"are you hurt anywhere?" jihyo's voice cracks, pained. she lifts tzuyu's head gently to cup her face, caressing a thumb over her cheekbones and looking over the wounds.  "... is this your blood?" 

tzuyu doesn't say anything, just looks at jihyo, eyes watery and lips pursed. 

"oh, baby," jihyo mutters. 

she realises, tzuyu's not so much shaking from the cold than shaking from whatever happened to her before all this.

she's scared. 

jihyo decides her questions can wait. 

"take a shower, i'll get you a set of clothes," she says, stroking tzuyu's cheek one last time and laying her palms on tzuyu's knees. "okay?"  

tzuyu catches jihyo's wrist before she stands up; whispers, "stay with me?" 

her fingertips are still freezing, so jihyo adjusts her hold until her hands are covering tzuyu’s. just a little warmth. 

“okay,” she raises their hands up to her lips, presses a kiss to tzuyu’s knuckles. “i’ll get us clothes.” 

--

jihyo has seen her fair share of blood and slashes, but peeling tzuyu’s soaked red clothes off still makes her wince. tzuyu sucks in a sharp breath at times, some wounds a little more tender than others. 

the most obvious ones are gashes below her ribs and another on her thigh, then bruises here and there. there’s more blood on her jaw, but jihyo can’t tell if they’re tzuyu’s or someone else's. 

tzuyu stays close the entire shower, and jihyo focuses on washing her hair first. she kneads the shampoo into tzuyu’s head gently, massages her fingers into her scalp and detangles whatever she can. 

the shower adds on to the rain outside; it’s loud in tzuyu’s ears, a mess of sounds. 

tzuyu clenches her fists, lets jihyo work her fingers through her hair despite the sensitivity of water passing over her wounds. 

she tries to focus on jihyo’s eyes – dark brown, then golden when the light catches them just right. they’re distracted and darting, cautious and wary, but soft around the edges, fading into black at the rim of her irises.

it becomes apparent that the blood on tzuyu's face isn't tzuyu's own. jihyo doesn't know if she should be worried or relieved. 

she cleans tzuyu's wounds in the shower, too, gently rinsing the cuts with warm water. tzuyu flinches whenever jihyo dabs at it, whimpering and shaking softly.

jihyo intertwines her free hand with tzuyu’s, squeezing reassuringly. “just a little more, tzu.” 

tzuyu squeezes back, eyes closed. 

for the most part, jihyo's voice is soothing enough to help her endure the pain. 

"this part won't hurt, don't worry." 

she rests her head on jihyo's shoulder still, and jihyo tries not to ache too much at the feeling of tzuyu tearing up, holding her breath throughout. 

the gashes don't look deep, so jihyo places a gauze dressing over them and settles with wrapping tzuyu up in bandages. 

"can you walk?" jihyo asks, scratching lightly at tzuyu's scalp and running a thumb over the shell of her ear.  

tzuyu nods, releasing the breath she was holding. she uses jihyo as leverage to stand up, but shifts most of her weight on her uninjured leg. 

jihyo stands with her, letting tzuyu hold on to her shoulders as they dress. 

"thank you," tzuyu says, slipping jihyo's oversized t-shirt on. 

it fits just right when she wears it, and it smells perfectly of jihyo. 

"sorry," she adds. "i won't– "

"don't be," jihyo cuts in. "i know it's a given for… what you do." 

she curves her palm around tzuyu's jaw gently, almost as if she's afraid of hurting tzuyu. tzuyu can't help but turn her head to nuzzle into the touch. 

"just come to me, okay? any time," jihyo continues, stroking tzuyu's face. "i'm always here. i'll always, always open the door for you. i'll do all of this again if you ever need it. remember that." 

tzuyu nods. "i know." 

she places a hand over jihyo's, kisses her palm. 

remembers the storm outside, how she staggered through the downpour with barely any conscience, light-headed from the fight. she'd shown up at jihyo's house naturally; an innate desire to just want to be with jihyo.

there was nowhere else she’d rather have gone.

--

tzuyu wakes up in jihyo’s arms at dawn, turns her head to check if jihyo’s awake. 

jihyo has tossed all the blankets over tzuyu, she knows tzuyu runs cold. she has one hand over the part of tzuyu’s abdomen that had been injured, and the other plays with tzuyu’s hair idly. 

“i have to go to work,” she says, seeing that tzuyu had awoken. her voice is low and raspy in the morning. “will you stay?”

tzuyu hums, stretches until she can curl an arm around jihyo’s waist. “can i?” 

she's still sore, and every move sends a sharp pain to the gashes. but it's better. better than if she were alone.

“always." jihyo kisses her temple. 

she leans down again to brush tzuyu’s hair aside, presses another kiss to her forehead. “i have to get a few urgent things sorted at the office, but i’ll be home quickly, okay?” 

tzuyu smiles. “i’ll be here.” 

where else would she go?

the rain had stopped sometime in the night.

she’s warm, she’s safe. 

and she’s with jihyo. 

even if tzuyu is chaos in all her ways, jihyo is peace.

i'm sure this would've been a much nicer read if i'd wrote some backstory for them, but i couldn't get this particular scene out of my mind 🤧 it's meant to be detective!hyo / vigilante!tzu! is the suit part of tzuyu's vigilante get-up or is it just bc i find it hot? who knows <3 you can tell ttt crime scene 2 did a number on me

anyways, thank you for reading!!! i really loved writing this one, and i really hope you enjoyed it! interactions truly truly appreciated <3

#twice imagines #jihyo x tzuyu #twice fluff #twice angst #park jihyo #chou tzuyu #jitzu #but very light angst! #angst written simply to give rise to a fluffier ending <3 #title very very vaguely inspired from 披星戴月的想你 by 告五人 (accusefive) #the vibe of their songs in general fits very well here too!! highly recommend! theyre one of my favs :) #i wanted to write a datzu sick fic but everything felt too similar to “in pain in love” so ive put that aside until i forget ipil 🙏 #and new gradient!! for angst fics 😁 #would be ideal if i had the mental strength to make this a series and seriously flesh all these out #maybe one day #twice fics

[steviewashere]

Our Love Ain't Compromised

Rating: General CW: Minor Vomiting/Dry Heaving (I have emetophobia so I made sure that it was minor, don't worry.) Tags: Sick Fic, Established Relationship, Married Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Future Fic, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington has Anxiety, Worried Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Sick Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Takes Care of Eddie Munson, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Medical Accuracies (Surprising, I Know, But I Actually Know Somebody Who's Had a Transplant), Mentioned Kidney Transplant

For the @steddielovemonth prompt: "Love is being taken care of when sick/love is taking care of them when they're sick."

💕—————💕

Eddie’s immune system is shot to shit. Has been since March of 1986. When he had awoken after his little stint in the Upside Down, it was to patches of scars, a missing nipple, and a brand new kidney. Turns out, that when alternate dimension bats chew you to bits and pieces and you’re helpless against them, they bite a little further than you could imagine. The ones that attacked his torso took a little more than necessary. Though, it wasn’t what caused him to get a kidney transplant.

No, in fact, he only has a brand new kidney because his body was fighting against the skin grafts and other surgeries. His downstairs business—the bladder and one kidney—were compromised. Luckily, his bladder was able to heal. But the scarring on his left kidney was too severe to come back from.

Hence, one new kidney.

The downside to this transplant, though, came in the form of one prescription drug. The immunosuppressant. A bunch of little capsules that he takes daily; in the morning and at night. And, get this, they’re forever pills. Meaning, they follow him to the day he dies. But knowing his luck, he’ll be up there arguing with God, one palm full of pills, and a glass of water in the other.

Surgeons and doctors told him that the suppressants were going to compromise his immune system. They were going to make him more vulnerable to infections and illnesses. And he’d been mostly careful in his life so far. If he catches a cold, he stays home and rests. If somebody he knows gets sick, he stays far away.

Though, when you’re a grown adult with a husband who works around snotty children all the time, the illnesses come whether you like it or not. It started with Steve getting pretty damn sick, knocked down by the yearly flu season. Which, granted, Steve had received his vaccine—but even then, the strongest still can be K.O’d. 

Steve’s sick state is…well, less than ideal. Eddie loves him to bits and pieces, but man is his husband a miserable thing when he gets ill. Like a desperate wet cat in a thunderstorm. Mewling and rolling about and picky to a fault. So, Eddie did the logical thing (admittedly, the dumbest), he took care of Steve. Hand fed him spoonfuls of soup. Draped a washcloth on his heated forehead. Changed out his puke bucket. Ran lukewarm baths and did the laundry and tucked Steve in and kissed his forehead and…ran himself dry.

The karma is Eddie gets sick now.

It’s only a few days after Steve is able to return to work. When he’s been fever free for forty-eight hours, that Eddie gets severely sick.

We’re talking many trips to the bathroom. Heat shivers like nothing else. Sweat stains and chilled bones and clicking teeth. Heavy chest and congested nose and an appetite the size of Rhode Island.

When Steve comes back from work, it’s a Friday, he comes through just in time to hear Eddie dry heave into the toilet for the—give or take—eighth time that day. Did he mention that it’s only four? Has he said that he hasn’t had anything to eat except for toast this morning, some that Steve made before he had to leave? Steve’s class starts at eight. He eats at six.

Immediately, Eddie hears the rush of heavy footsteps clamber down the hallway. Skittering into their bedroom. Practically sliding into the tiled, small bathroom. A hand carefully bunches up his hair, ties it back loosely—just enough so it’s out of the way. And another runs up and down his spine in long stripes. The t-shirt Eddie is wearing gets stuck a few times with the movement of Steve’s hand, due in part to the tacky sweat on his back, and also because Steve moves his hand anxiously. He’s an anxious guy when the people around him aren’t doing too hot.

With his last round of dry heaving, Eddie spits into the toilet bowl, reaches up and clumsily flushes the toilet, and then settles loose on the floor. Collapsed halfway on the toilet’s seat. His butt sat on his folded legs. He sighs.

“Oh, baby,” Steve coos above him. “Baby, why didn’t you say you were sick? I would’ve stayed home with you.”

Eddie’s voice is raspy and exhausted when he speaks. “Didn’t know,” he says, “started after you left.” A chill runs up his arms and he full body shivers with it. “Was gonna call, but I knew you were excited to see your kiddos again.” He shrugs. “I can manage for a few hours.”

“Yeah, but you’re miserable,” Steve relays, as if Eddie wasn’t aware. He’s very much aware. Too aware, actually. But he lets Steve make a fuss. “Okay, uh, okay plan. I’ll run a bath for you and I’ll—I’ll, fuck, I’ll make you that chicken broth that you like. And I can change out our bedding while you relax in the tub and I can—“ He stops to swallow. His hands flap at his side. Steve never does well when Eddie gets sick, he immediately goes high strung and scrambled.

With a weak hand, Eddie reaches out and soothes his palm down Steve’s calve. “Honey,” he whispers, coaxing. Steve’s breath is heavy, yet short. And his eyes are darting when they finally look at Eddie. “Honey,” he repeats. “It doesn’t help me when you get worked up. One step at a time, alright?”

“Right,” Steve mutters shortly, “right, you’re right.” He flutters out of Eddie’s space. Instead, he leaves the room. Eddie hears him shuffling about their bedroom, changing the sheets. And then he retreats back into the hallway, to the linen closet for a towel. (Eddie knows him a little too well some days. Especially on high strung days.) Then, he’s back in the bathroom with new clothes and a towel. Just in time for Eddie to be up off the floor, a cup of mouthwash swirling around his tongue. Steve’s talking a mile a minute when he comes back in. “Okay, so I got clothes and a towel. And my phone is on the charger so that I can call your doctor just in case things get really bad. And I—Honestly, I already texted him and he said to just take a couple tablets of Zofran for the nausea. Also, I checked the fridge while I was putting away my shoes—I forgot to take them off, sorry about the little bit of mud by the door—but I couldn’t find any of the bay leaves for that broth. So, I hope it’s okay that the chicken broth is a little bland. Actually—“

He spits out the mouthwash, holding back his laughter. Eddie’s not sure if the rambling is something Steve picked up from Robin or if it’s something associated with his anxiety. Honestly, if he allows himself to think about it, it’s probably a bit of both. But he watches Steve leave the room again. His mutterings about the space are loud to his ears.

“—God, we have like no seasonings,” is what Eddie picks up on when he exits the bathroom. Steve continues, “And the pot I need is in the sink. I’ll do the dishes and then I’ll make the broth and…Well, no, if I make the broth in the smaller pot, then he can eat while I clean. But what if he needs me while he’s eating? I can’t be in a different room when he needs me. What if he gets sick on the couch while I’m cleaning and I don’t hear him and then he’s too tired to clean himself up and then he’s just sitting there and then—“

“Steve,” Eddie calls from the kitchen entryway. He’s stood still in front of the open pantry door. Hands nervous at his sides. Eddie’s never actually been a witness to the rambling before. It’s usually that Steve stays stuck in place, eyes far away, head full of a thousand thoughts that he needs Eddie’s help to parse through. The thoughts don’t typically all leave his mouth at once, though. It’s a little bit concerning. “Baby, I need you to calm down. How about you draw me a bath? Help me wash my hair, because I think I got a little bit of puke in the ends. And then, we can order Chinese food or something? I’ll just get plain white rice.”

Instead of saying anything, Steve nods. Eyes not exactly far, but still somewhere distant. Yet, he crosses the room anyway. A hand to Eddie’s forehead. The other on his chest. Then, he mutters, “You’re burning up. Let me grab the Tylenol.”

“I already took some, Stevie,” Eddie says. “I just need you to run me a bath, please.” He reaches up for the palm on his chest, squeezes, and holds tight to it as he drags them back to the bathroom. Without much prompt, Eddie slips out of his dirty, sweaty clothes. And with a silent demeanor, unusual for somebody like him, gazes on as Steve patters about—bending over to turn the knob to warm, going to the sink’s cabinet for the bottle of lavender soap, reaching up on the shower shelf for the hair products. And for the first time since Steve got home, he goes completely quiet, now sitting on the lip of the tub, hands out in silent offering for Eddie’s. Which he takes with a soft hold and allows himself to be maneuvered into the water.

He lets Steve pour a cup of water over his hair. A hand settled on the side of his neck. Washcloth on his forehead. Eddie relaxes into Steve’s gentle touches, for once today, the idea of being sick dissipates from his mind.

It’s not even ten minutes into the bath that Steve speaks up again.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

Eddie opens his eyes, not even realizing that he closed them. Steve’s hands just feel that good. “Why are you sorry?” He asks genuinely.

Steve shrugs. “For getting all overbearing and whatever. It’s hard to—“ Sometimes, it’s difficult for Steve to find his words, the emotions. Always has been a bit of a thing for him, but Eddie never minds. In fact, he kind of adores watching Steve work his way through his thoughts, actively seeing in real time as the sensations click for him. “—It’s hard to see you sick. Especially when I know that it’s because of my bug that I had. And, you know, considering the bullshit back in Hawkins.”

“Hey,” Eddie says softly, “don’t say it like it’s exclusively your fault.” He rests his left hand over Steve’s own. His skin is soft under Eddie’s palm. The heat radiating from him is grounding. “I made the decision to help you. And it wasn’t something you just decided to bring home from work. It’s okay. Just the flu,” he tries to reassure.

“But what if you get sicker than I did? Like…So sick that we have to take you to the hospital and then you’re there for several days and the bed is empty of you and I—“

“Stevie,” he cuts in. “Honey, you need to breathe for me, alright? I’m right here. And, yes, I’m sick and miserable. But it’s just the flu. I know what it is, you know what it is.” He takes a deep breath, it mingles with Steve’s own stuttered inhale. “If something happens, we contact my doctor. Remember why I get sick easily, baby. It’s just the suppressants doing their job, nothing else. We’ll be alright.”

Steve nods, going completely quiet. Almost still with it.

“What’s on your mind, baby?” Eddie questions.

“I—Do you even like it when I’m the one taking care of you? Like I get when Wayne does because he’s all calm and collected about it, but.”

Eddie soothes his hand up to Steve’s left forearm. Fingers tapping, waiting for Steve to completely look at him. When they lock eyes, he states firm yet soft, “I love it when you take care of me. You make sure I have and get everything I need. There’s nobody else that I’d rather have here with me.”

“Even when I can’t shut up about what needs to happen? Even when my brain goes a mile a minute because I’m just…scared?”

He nods subtly. “Yeah, sweetheart,” he whisper-rasps. “I feel so loved when you take care of me. Because you actually care. It’s hard for both of us when I get sick, I understand that.”

Steve nods back at him. Teeth sunken into his bottom lip. “Is it weird to say that I love taking care of you? Like it makes me feel useful to help you out?”

“Not weird, just welcomed,” Eddie assures. Because that’s the beautiful truth.

A few moments of silence lull between them. The washcloth goes a little cold against Eddie’s skin and he senses the prickling of shivers mingling under his skin. “Help me out of the tub and just lay with me in bed for now? I’m not hungry yet.” Steve bounces back into action. At the snap of fingers, ready to tend to anything Eddie needs of him.

And when they’re back in bed, Steve’s ruffled feathers finally flattened back to his body and Eddie’s fever dropping a single degree, Eddie is content. He lays on his back with Steve curled on his left side. Their legs tangled with each other. A palm heavy on his t-shirt clad stomach. Eddie’s own toying with Steve’s hair. The shirt is stuck to him from the VapoRub that Steve applied.

It’s warm in their room. Radiator on and lowly humming. Curtains closed so that it’s dark, though lit by Steve’s bedside lamp. Eddie’s got his own bucket settled on the floor, just in case. A sleeve of saltine crackers on his table. Poncho is curled up by his feet, purring incessantly, fur shifting and tickling his soles.

This treatment is one of a million reasons why he adores the man he married. “I love you, Steve. You take good care of me; you should know that,” he mutters into the soothing silence.

Instead of receiving an answer, Steve’s snore is muffled into Eddie’s shoulder. Puffing in warm bursts against his neck. He shifts his hand to press between Steve’s shoulder blades. And smiles a little to himself when Steve shuffles in impossibly closer. He feels like crap, that’s pretty hard to miss. Though, he’s comfortable. Comfortable enough that he can slip into a peaceful, syrupy, boneless sleep.

His immune system is shot to shit. But the love that fills his soul sure isn’t.

💕—————💕

#stranger things #steddie #fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #sick fic #hurt/comfort #fluff #steddielovemonth #day 21

[roanniom]

Because this is something my husband had to do for me once - imagine Eddie seeing how badly you're shivering and physically having to help you undress and get in the shower with him and just letting yourselves melt together.

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Aw Eddie would be very gentle and I feel like he’d speak in hushed tones, even though that wouldn’t be really necessary. Like he’d whisper as he delicately helped you out of your sleep clothes.

“You’ll feel better under the warm water. I know, princess, I know.”

He’d hum at the way you whine when the water hits you, but his chest is there for you to press back up against. His arms are there to wrap around you and keep you up and stable under the spray.

“That better, princess? Let’s get you clean and warm and back into bed to sleep this off. You’ll be better in the morning, promise.”

#Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson fluff #Issa’s sick day

[abiiors]

Can we get some sick Matty fluff? Coming from a gal fighting a sinus infraction rn 😢

A sinus infection sounds horrible :( I hope you feel better soon x

Also here you go, I hope you like it! There’s some nudity in this one but it’s absolutely non-sexual.

If you want a swapped version of this, go here!

Sick Day

A string of sneezes echoes around the house followed by a wet cough. 

You wince at how bad he sounds today. Despite the check-up he’s had yesterday, his cough only sounds worse. You try to hurry up in the kitchen, beg the soup to finish cooking as soon as possible. When it takes too much time, you put the flame on a low heat and make your way to your shared bedroom. 

You can see a mop of curly hair peeking out from under three different blankets. Even when he’s so bundled up, you can see a shiver wrack his body every now and then.

He’s not allowed to speak, he’s not allowed to sing and he has no strength to get out of bed. In short, what you have on your hands today is a big, irritable baby. You try to caress his cheek but his face only scrunches up in pain at even the smallest of touches. That’s how you know that the congestion is terrible. 

When he feels the bed dip under your weight, he turns around with great effort and buries his face in your lap. His eyes are red-rimmed and the bags under them are so pronounced—it breaks your heart to see him like this. But there’s only so much you can do for him apart from sitting with him and stroking his hair.

‘Have you taken your medicine, love?’ you ask as you continue to stroke his head. It’s warm, so much warmer than it normally is that you mentally try to remember the last time you checked his temperature.

He opens the Notes App on his phone with some difficulty and starts typing.

I don’t think I can swallow anything :( 

‘Matty…’ you scold gently but only because you’re worried about him. ‘Baby, you need to take them.’

Another :( is his only response. 

‘How about I bring you some soup, yeah? That might ease up your throat?’

He contemplates that for a bit and then barely nods his head. It takes another two minutes for him to actually get his head off your lap but you let him be as clingy as he wants to. 

You waste no time getting back to the kitchen and bringing him a bowl of steaming soup. Getting him to sit up, however, proves to be a bit of a herculean task. He tries not to put all his weight on you but you end up having to prop him up against the pillows anyway. He holds up his phone and frowns.

I feel like an invalid.  

A small laugh escapes you at that. He’s managed to make you laugh even when he feels like death warmed up and he clearly looks proud about it. 

‘Come on now,’ you hand him the bowl, ‘or should we pretend it’s an airplane?’

He rolls his eyes but ends up cracking a smile anyway. He even manages to finish the entire bowl of soup. But then his mood sours again when you hold up the two round pills in front of him. 

‘Don’t make this into a battle of wills. You know I’ll win,’ you quickly warm him just as he’s in the middle of making a face. But in the end, he obliges. 

The muscles of his throat move, trying to reject the pill but he swallows again and gulps down some more water. Then he picks up his phone again. 

Will you stay?

‘Of course, I will,’ you say. In fact, you’re already getting comfy in the bed and pulling his head on your lap. 

He cracks a small smile when he feels your fingers running through his hair and then mouths a “thank you”. A combination of the medicine and his exhaustion—it doesn’t take long before his breathing evens out.

Sometime in the second hour of his nap, he begins to kick off the blankets one by one. You run over a hand over his forehead, his cheek and notice that the collar of his jumper is slowly turning damp with sweat. 

‘Matty,’ you shake him as gently as possible. ‘You need to wake up, love. I think your fever is breaking.’

He groans a bit but then cracks an eye open. 

‘Do you think you can take a bath?’ 

Only if you can take one with me,

he types out. Despite the illness, you like this clingy version of him, how he wants you to be there for every little thing he does. 

***

He sways a bit at first but manages to hold himself upright while you get him out of his clothes. The bath is almost full by now—you’ve made sure to add some oils in there too and now your entire bathroom smells like peppermint and eucalyptus. 

The bath is big enough for the two of you but when you get in after him, he instantly scoots closer; closes his eyes as you lather shampoo on his scalp. His face is still paler than usual but he looks much more alert now. Much less ready to keel over. 

The water will go cold in a bit, you know it will. For now, you just let him indulge as much as he wants to.

#matty healy imagine #matty healy fluff #matty healy x reader #matty healy fanfiction #the 1975 #matty healy drabble #drabble #asks #fluff #matty x reader #tour bus naps #soft matty healy #sick day #sicfic