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#under the weather
cillianmesoftlyyy · 5 months
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Under the Weather | Cillian Murphy x Reader
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Summary | It's your one-year anniversary with Cillian and he's just finished filming The Party but as the night goes on, you begin to feel feverish and sick. Cillian comes home and takes care of you.
Warnings | fluff lol; age-gap.
Pale Blue Eyes- The Velvet Underground 🎶
word count: 1421
Don't interact if you're a Yvonne hater. This is a completely fictional piece and does not reflect Cillian or his family in reality. Read with the assumption that Cillian is not married and does not have children.
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She started to feel sick around noon, the inklings of fatigue and fever creeping up into her head. She went to dinner with Cillian as she said she would for their one-year anniversary but her pearl earrings felt colder than usual against her feverish skin and she shivered when she had pulled on her dark green dress with the boat neck that exposed her collarbones to the chilly air. Curling her hair was too much, and the heat had left her exhausted and sweaty, even though she was cold. She tightened her green buckled flats and sat up in her chair at the vanity, placing a warm hand against her hot forehead and sighed. She wasn’t sure if she was actually sick or just anxious from the weeks of filming that Cillian had been preoccupied with for The Party. But he was done now and focused on his private life, the life that included her now. 
He was 41 and she was 28, and already the media had a lot to say about their relationship. She was young but not that much so, she’d gone from crappy sitcoms and low-budget movies to blockbuster films and award shows. She was just as relevant as Cillian, though she may be a decade younger. She loved Cillian and the way that he helped her with her rehearsals and her anxieties. She confided in him and spilled her guts and he listened, his eyes gentle and validating. He was quiet and reserved when she had first met him on set for Peaky Blinders as one of Micheal Gray’s love-interests. She was almost never in the same scene as him so they never had a moment to speak until an interview that she was invited to attend with the main cast. She was seated next to him on the raised platform in front of the cameras when the clip keeping the back of her dress together broke and nearly unraveled in front of everyone. Without hesitation, CIllian had reached over and pulled the two ends of fabric together, keeping her dress from falling down her chest. He kept his hand against her back for the remainder of the interview, and still added to the discussion and smiled when prompted to. When the cameras stopped, he helped her get up from her seat, still holding her dress together and helped her off. He only left once a crew member had successfully pinned her dress, giving her a kind smile and a nod.
And now here they were. 
She checked Cillian’s watch on the bedside table and hurried to finish getting ready before he arrived at 7. He’d made reservations at a small restaurant in Dublin where he knew the owners and their children. Smoothing down her short emerald green dress, she hurried down the stairs to the first floor of the walkup she shared with Cillian in Dublin and waited anxiously by the door for the familiar sound of footsteps on the granite steps. She saw his silhouette through the textured glass on the front door and threw it open before he could knock. He was startled but smiled when he saw who was waiting for him. 
“My God, you look lovely darling!” He smiled and closed the door behind him, blocking out the summer breeze. He put each hand on her waist and turned her around slowly to see what she was wearing. He’d finished an interview for The Party and changed into his suit in the dressing room before driving back, so he looked slightly rumpled but unmistakingly beautiful.
“How was the interview?” She asked, her hands clasped around his neck.
“Eh, I’m happy it's all over with ya’ know?” The wrinkles around his eyes crinkled as he smiled. 
He kissed her head but when he pulled away, he frowned down at her. 
“You feel warm.” He put the back of his hand against her cheek and moved it to her forehead, clucking his tongue. “Do you feel alright, love?” 
“I thought I might be getting sick but it's not bad, I can still go.” She waved him off. 
“Ah ah ah, not so fast. I think you have a fever.” He took her hand and led her to the kitchen and picked her up, setting her down gently on the countertop. 
“You mustn’t make such a fuss, Cillian.” She sighed defeatedly, her hands clasped either side of the cold marble countertop.  
“Hush, love.” He rummaged through the medicinal cabinet in the kitchen and retrieved the mercury thermometer that they had bought at a drugstore as a house-warming gift for themselves. “Open your mouth for me,” she complied, touching her tongue to the roof of her mouth, “good girl.” He praised her. 
“This is ridiculous. I feel fine, Cillian!” She mumbled around the thermometer. He rested his arms on either side of her body, his legs planted firmly between her knees. He said nothing but glanced down at his watch every few seconds to check the time. When it was done he pulled the thermometer from her mouth and read it to her. 
“100.3. You’re sick, love.” He laughed softly and placed the thermometer on a folded cloth by the sink to wash later. “Come on.” He spread his arms and she reluctantly hugged him around his shoulders so that he could pick her up. He sighed softly as he arranged her in his arms and climbed the short flight of steps to the second floor. 
“What about the dinner reservations?” She whined into his shoulder, her nose crushed against the soft fabric of his suit. 
“It'll be fine, darling. Let me worry about that.” He passed through the doorway into their bedroom and laid her down on the bed. She squirmed in protest when he went left, going down the stairs quickly. She could hear him moving around the kitchen for a while before coming back up the stairs, a glass of water and Tylenol in his hands. She sat up against the pillows at the headboard and curled her knees into her chest. He sat on the edge of the bed and gave her two of the distinct white chalky pills. 
“Take these.” He ordered softly and waited. 
“Yes, sir.” She grumbled and swallowed the pills, downing them with water. He took the empty glass from her hand and placed it on the nightstand. 
“Let me get you out of these” He unbuckled her shoes and tossed them aside, his hands patting each ankle as he did so. 
“I’m sorry, Cillian.” She whispered, her arms held up in the air in a pitiful request for affection. He leaned over and hugged her. 
“For what, darling?” He furrowed his brow and stroked her hair. 
“For being sick on our anniversary.” She sniffed and fought back childish tears. He pulled away and rubbed his thumb over her feverish cheek. 
“That’s nothing to be sorry for, love. We still get to spend the evening together, right?” He smiled and kissed the top of her head. 
“Ok.” She nodded and allowed him to remove her earrings, sliding the backings off into his hand and returning them to her jewelry box. She turned to the side as his hands found the top of her zipper. As he pulled, her skin tingled with goosebumps all the way down to her tailbone. His hands slid the dress off her shoulders and pulled it over her head. She was naked besides her underwear and sensitive to the cold. Cillian quickly took one of his long sleeve shirts and pulled it down over her head. She slid her arms through the sleeves and curled into his side as he leaned over, resting the dress carefully on the arm of a chair. When he straightened back up, he put one arm around her shoulders and the other one on his stomach. She nestled beneath the sheets and wool blankets beside him and breathed him in. 
As she started to fall asleep, he cradled her in his arms, holding onto her with security and love. He waited patiently as she slept before changing out of his suit. He turned off the lights and applied a cold washcloth to her head as she slept soundly beside him. He laughed softly when her nose was congested and she started breathing through her mouth, drooling slightly on her pillow. He combed his fingers through her hair and kissed the crown of her head into the night before he fell asleep himself, his arms tightly around her.
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a-little-unsteddie · 1 month
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under the weather || steddie
this is for @rogueddie’s bday! i’m sorry it’s late but i fell ill and am only just starting to feel better. i thought a sickfic was fitting for the situation :b. hope you like it, eddie! and i hope your bday was good <3
sickfic, pre-relationship, technically post-s4
No one had seen or heard from Steve in three days.
Eddie knew he didn’t really have any right to be as worried as he was, seeing as even after spring break the two of them hadn’t gotten close. Eddie hadn't wanted to push his luck, knowing exactly how he acted during the apocalypse. There was no way that Steve didn't know that Eddie was gay, and despite Robin’s vague assurances, Eddie didn't want to press his luck much farther. But he was. Worried, that is.
Despite not being that close, Eddie still knew that Steve would never intentionally miss picking up the kids from Hellfire—now hosted at the new Munson house, government provided. He was even less likely to miss picking up Robin from work, which was what really caused Eddie to worry.
Robin had called Eddie and asked him to check on Steve, because in spite of their adamant denial, her mother still thought she and Steve were dating, and refused to let her go over to his house alone.
“Just…check on him, please,” Robin had asked him quietly, her voice tinny on the receiver.
“Of course, birdie,” Eddie replied, frowning at the counter. “I’m not sure if he’ll want to see me, though. Wouldn’t it be better to send Nancy or Jonathan?”
“No,” came Robin’s hasty reply, “no, he’d rather see you than either of them.”
That had confused him enough into agreeing and hanging up to get ready to go to the Harrington’s to check on Steve. He didn’t know what to expect, so he just grabbed a can of soup and shoved it into his bag, along with some weed, and just in case, he grabbed his pocket knife.
Unable to think of any more scenarios right at that moment, Eddie left before he could overthink it.
Fifteen minutes and a few ignored stop signs later, Eddie stood at the front door to Steve’s house. He knocked first, and then a few minutes later, rang the doorbell. When there was still no response, Eddie grabbed his knife and checked to see if the door would open. Fortunately,—or unfortunately, it did.
Eddie crept around, listening for any signs of danger and life in general, as he peered into the kitchen from the living room. He passed the stairs and heard coughing coming from somewhere upstairs and frowned. He put the knife away, and made his way slowly up the stairs.
“Harrington?” Eddie called, poking his head into the door that led to his room. The sight that greeted him was heartbreaking, Steve was under a bunch of blankets, the only part of him that was visible was his hair, which looked uncharacteristically greasy.
“Steve?” he called again when it didn’t look like Steve was moving.
Just as he was about to panic, he heard Steve groan in response, what could have been “Munson”, but sounded closer to “m’ns’n”. Steve pulled the blanket down and squinted in Eddie’s direction and whined when his eyes were greeted with light.
“Oh, Steve,” he breathed, glad that he was just sick and not in mortal danger. Eddie rushed over to him and felt his forehead, which was burning up.
“M’fine,” Steve croaked, trying to weakly push away Eddie’s hand. “Was jus’ gon’ get up,” he breathed, trying to sit up.
“Oh, no you don’t, big boy,” Eddie said firmly, pushing him back into bed. “You’re sick, sweetheart. Stay in bed.”
“M’not sick,” he protested, and then immediately started coughing. Once the coughing fit was done, Steve mumbled, “Maybe m’sick.”
“You think so, sweetheart?” Eddie teased gently as he helped Steve lay back down.
“W’d,” Steve started, but a coughing fit took over the sentence before he could even try to complete it. Eddie’s heart went out to him, aching as he watched Steve shiver once the fit was done. “Wh’d’r’you do’n’ere?”
Steve’s words were so slurred that Eddie had to make an educated guess as to what he meant, “Robin was worried about you,” he explained, “wanted me to check on you.”
“‘bin?” Steve breathed, eyelashes fluttering as he struggled to stay awake.
“Yeah, Robin. She’s really worried. Rest now, I’ll get some things to help you feel better, okay?” Eddie murmured and didn’t wait for Steve to respond before he made his way out of the room.
The next two days were spent with Eddie nursing Steve back to health. Steve slept through most of the first day and a half, but seemed to be getting more lucid on the third day. Instead of being completely disoriented from reality, he seemed to be embarrassed that Eddie had to help him, which he was quick to shoot down.
“I’m sure you have better things to do than take care of me,” Steve insisted, probably for the third time. “I can take care of myself from here.”
“I’m sure you can, Stevie,” Eddie said, just as patient the third time as he was the first. “But you don’t have to, I want to take care of you, I like taking care of you.”
Steve’s face turned red, and Eddie bit back a smile as he handed over the fresh bowl of soup. He wanted to say that it was the fever causing Steve’s face to be so red, but his fever had broken the day before. The only thing that Eddie could think of that he’d be blushing right now was something he didn’t even want to consider, in case he had it wrong. He’d spent so long avoiding the jock because he was scared he’d some how sense his big gay crush on him, he didn’t want to jump to conclusions off of a few days taking care of him.
It was a nice thought, though.
“Thank you,” Steve said quietly as he held the bowl in stable hands. The first day Steve had tried to hold it himself, but was shaking so much that it was impossible, so Eddie had fed him then. It’d taken every ounce of self-control to not get overwhelmed with the closeness, instead he focused on the task.
“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” Eddie said, sitting back in the armchair that Steve had in his room.
“Aren’t you gonna eat?” Steve asked with a frown.
“I ate downstairs while making your food,” and it wasn’t a lie, he’d made himself a sandwich.
He didn’t look pleased at the answer, but accepted it nontheless.
“What day is it?” Steve asked after he finished his soup.
Eddie hummed, “Uhh, Thursday, I think. Yeah, Thursday.”
“I was supposed to pick up Dustin from school today,” Steve exclaimed, and immediately tried to get out of bed.
“Ah, ah, ah,” Eddie stopped him, forcing him back into his bed. “The Sinclairs took care of it. Robin also took care of your shift yesterday and Keith is working your shift today, unwillingly, but doing it.”
Steve deflated, but sidn’t lean back. “Can I at least go to the living room?” he asked with a pout. Eddie staunchly refused to acknowledge the way his heart fluttered.
Maybe he was catching whatever cold Steve had.
Eddie sighed, pretending at being exasperated. “I suppose I can let you do that,” he said, standing to help Steve up. The jock was still shaky on his legs, but much more stable than he had been.
Together they worked their way downstairs slowly, taking it one step at a time. Eventually Eddie helped Steve ease onto the couch, and then went over to the tv and VCR.
“What movie do you want?” he asked, looking back at Steve, catching him blushing and looking away. He raised his eyebrows, bewildered as to what he could have been doing that warranted that reaction.
“Uh..” Steve slowly grinned, “Grease.”
Eddie rolled his eyes, groaning. “Of course you want to watch Grease,” he sighed, grabbing the tape and putting it in. “You’re lucky you’re pretty, Stevie.”
Steve blushed, and grinned widely at Eddie as the metalhead made his way back to the couch. He lifted the blanket and Eddie smiled softly, settling into the couch next to him.
“It’s a good movie,” Steve protested. He must have still been loopy from being sick, because he curled into Eddie’s side, and forced him to wrap his arm around Steve.
Eddie tried to keep his heart steady, but found himself unable to.
“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”
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dirty-spiced-chai · 5 months
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CORPSE
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babysmama · 5 months
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I’ll be back soon! Feeling under the weather..
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hailieshapedbox · 6 months
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ayyy-imma-ninja · 11 months
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Does sk moon have any blankets that he loves or cuddles with? Does he wear blankets when he is under the weather like sk sun?
What do the sk boys do when they are under the weather? How do they cheer eachother up??
He'll wear one too, if it's particularly cold out. He'll sit by the heater to stay warm. And when Moon is "under the weather" he just lays in bed. And when one is not feeling well, the other will try to make them comfortable.
After Sun went through something very personal and had a lot of stress, Moon gave him some of his favorite things to do, while also forcing him to stay in bed.
When Moon isn't doing so hot, he and Sun watch movies and television together.
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hausmakes · 6 months
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15. WEATHER
feeling under the weather
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onlyhisbabygirl · 2 months
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Does anybody have any tips for battling feeling unmotivated?
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loca1ghoul · 1 year
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GUYS PLEASE IM GONNA CRY
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catgendermikus · 4 months
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❣︎ waterainica ❣︎
[ water - rain - ick - uh ]
a gender related 2 the song “under the weather” by corpse husband, water, && rain !! may feel melancholy, angry, remorseful, blue / gray / green / black, gloomy, wet, connected 2 nature, or in any other way connected 2 “under the weather” && water / rain !!
rq by: anon !!
ఌ — the rolling girl did not find this gender in previous coining posts, but please let voi know if it already exists !! — ఌ
[PT: waterainica [water-rain-ick-uh]: a gender related to the song “under the weather” by corpse husband, water, and rain!! may feel melancholy, angry, remorseful, blue/gray/green/black, gloomy, wet, connected to nature, or in any other way connected to “under the water” and water/rain!! rq by: anon!! the rolling girl did not find this gender in previous coining posts, but please let voi know if it already exists!! END PT]
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cannibalgh0st · 4 months
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No work until Monday😭🙏 I'm going to try to rest and relax. I know my job is crazy sometimes, but I am grateful they thought about giving me time off to recover....
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scarmille · 1 month
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via pinterest
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siciliankiss · 4 months
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k-y-g · 2 months
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under the weather//corpse - kyg
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oldlilcheeseblog · 1 year
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