#x reader sickfic
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A Galling Yoke, Part 12
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for the “Where did this come from?” square on my July Break Bingo card
See this post for main info, including a masterlist and synopsis. See this post for warnings.
Word Count: 4.1k
Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x f!Reader
Rating: Teen
Baker Street, despite the sun lowering towards the horizon, was awake and moving when you stepped foot on it. A chill breeze blew through you, pricking at your already numbed face. Almost there, you tried to reassure yourself, with as much success as you tried warming up by chafing your frozen hands against your frozen shoulders.
Even when you got to Sherlock’s building, however, reassurance was not at hand. You knocked, and his landlady graciously let you enter and stay by his door—apparently, he had given her a note weeks ago that anyone bearing your name was to be let into the building—but he was not at home. Still. Sitting on the landing outside his flat and folding into yourself was the most rest and comfort you’d experienced in… Well, you didn’t know how long. And it was warm. So very warm…
You were aware of how rudely you’d been awoken before you were aware that you’d dozed off.
“Your ladyship!” shouted a voice as the attached hand jostled you. “You must wake, now!”
You glared up at the blurry face before you. “Must I, ma’am?” You blinked a few times. “That is—sir… Sherlock?”
The crease in his brow collapsed, like dead weight plunging to the floor. “My lady,” he breathed. “You terrorised me. You were shivering, and your skin was ice cold—do you not know that you cannot sleep when you are too cold, lest you never—?” He broke off, but you nodded in understanding.
“I have been walking outside for hours.”
You had meant to comfort him by offering up an explanation for why you were so cold, but he only looked more alarmed. “Hours?” he said. “It has been snowing all—how—why—?”
Your eyes widened as you remembered exactly why. “Oh, Sherlock,” you exclaimed, lurching to your feet. “I have uncovered— That is, I have— Oh dear, I feel rather strange of a sudden…”
Blood rushing to your head, you stumbled a little and would have fallen down the staircase if Sherlock did not catch you and heft you back up.
“Forgive me,” you mumbled. Held close to his body heat, you felt drowsier than ever. “For this, and for the thing…the thing a few days ago…the things I said. Forgive me, Sherlock—Mr Holmes.”
“My lady…”
With a hum, you nuzzled into his chest. This already felt like forgiveness.
But then the soft support you were leaning against stiffened. “Your ladyship. Where did this come from?”
“Hmm? Ow!”
However gently, he had touched your scalp, and you realised suddenly that the area was stinging. Your hands flew up to prod at the tender skin as your memory rewound a bit and recalled your abductor striking you in the head hard enough to knock you out cold.
“Well, sir—”
“And these?” interrupted Sherlock, grabbing your wrists with one hand and turning them over to his sight. “Where did these burns come from? What has happened to you?”
Begrudgingly, you leaned away from him to get a better look at what had him so vexed. “Oh,” you mumbled: your palms were bright red and blistering. When had that happened? “Oh, right.”
“Who did this to you?” he growled.
“Ah, you see, the burns I actually gave myself—”
“What?”
“—but they were necessary! In all likelihood, I turned out much better than he.” You paused as your own words sunk in. You had left that man to die. What if he actually had?
But Sherlock interrupted such thoughts with a waspish, “He?” Shrewd eyes scanned you up and down, darkening with every statement that followed. “Your hair is an utter mess. Your dress is askew—your skirt is torn— Who is ‘he’?”
“I… I know not,” you admitted. “But I believe he is the hitman who was hired by—that is, who killed my husband. He was at Cable Street, summoned, I believe, by Mrs Kinley. And I was at Cable Street because…” Wait, should you explain the familial connection between the nurse and the hitman first? You pressed the back of your hand to your brow; your temples were starting to throb. “Forgive me, Mr Holmes. I am finding it rather difficult to think.”
Sherlock scowled at that but did not hesitate to move both of you to his door and to unlock it. “I shall get a fire going.” His fingers tightened around your arm where they had been heretofore guiding you gently forward, and you understood with a regretful cringe that he was thinking of—as you were—the last time you had been around the hearth in his flat. Still, a fire sounded divine.
He carefully lowered you into the seat nearest to the iron panel, and as you watched him start the fire, you felt your heart melt first. You had missed him. You had missed him terribly, and you couldn’t believe he would still speak to you—welcome you into his home, even. Unfortunately, little beyond your heart did much melting.
The cold had seeped through your clothes, leaving them damp and rigid, and into your skin, sinking down every layer to the bone marrow. You shivered as you watched the flames begin their dance.
And then a fluffy weight fell around your shoulders. You looked up and met Sherlock’s stormy gaze.
“I suspect you have caught a chill, my lady,” he said. “If the fire warms you not within the next few minutes, you shall require a hot bath.”
Your cheeks alone warmed a little at that.
“In any case,” he continued, “you ought to change out of those wet clothes, though it should not hurt to give you those few minutes to regain some strength.” He looked away, ostensibly to grab another blanket for your lap. “You may use that time to tell me what has occurred.”
Eyes lowered, you recounted your sudden realisation about Mrs Kinley, your visit to Miss Algar’s flat, your abduction, and your escape. You skipped over the details of your ordeal, partly because you were depleted of any energy to explain, partly because you didn’t want to voice them at all. Your audience seemed to know much was missing from your narration, but after a long look, he only gave you a nod instead of a barrage of questions.
“It was good of you to check in on them,” he murmured, brushing aside some hair stuck to your clammy forehead—absentmindedly, his gaze far away. “Even if Mrs Kinley is indeed family to the hitman, she may still be exploited—and endangered, along with Miss Algar—should she have been unaware all this time of his intentions. He may have merely told her to keep him apprised, without explaining his involvement, which would explain her chariness.”
You were halfway through a nod when a sneeze ripped through you.
Sherlock frowned. “We best get you out of those wet clothes and into bed. I ought to have some old articles of clothing somewhere for you to use.”
“Oh, that is not necessary, sir,” you stammered. “Simply hail a cab for me—I can pay, of course—and I shall return to Voss House—”
“No.”
“Mr Holmes, I cannot impose—”
“It shall not happen!”
You straightened in your seat, shoulders tensing. Sherlock groaned and dragged a hand down his face.
“I meant not to be…domineering,” he said. “But I would not want you in a hackney right now: it is dark and cold, you are ill and injured. Besides, am I not to assume that you came here…for a reason?”
He and you looked at each other for a long, open moment.
You let your shoulders drop. “You are correct, of course,” you said. “Only, I want not to be a burden while you visit with Mrs Kinley and…”
The shake of his head was so unyielding that you immediately fell silent.
“I shall not see her until Monday—or whenever you are well again.”
Your eyes widened. “But— But the case—”
“I care not for the case,” he said, quietly, intensely. “I have not worked on it for days, my lady, not since—” He pursed his lips for a beat. “Not exactly, at any rate. After my last few deductions, I made up my mind. I think there are certain crimes which the law cannot touch, and which therefore, to some extent, justify private revenge. No, it’s no use arguing. My sympathies are with he who was moved to kill rather than with he who was killed, and I would not handle this case. I shall return to Cable Street to see to Miss Algar’s security, and that is all.”
You stared up at him, caught completely off guard.
He looked down to consider the floorboards. “Of course, we shall have to deal with the hitman somehow. I have very limited sympathy for him.” He looked up, regarding your burns for a second before meeting your eyes. “However, we may worry about that on the morrow. Are you able to stand, my lady?”
“I believe so.”
He helped you to his bedroom, which made your head numb and your extremities cold all over again—you had never been in a gentleman’s chambers before, not even Edmund’s—and as he turned to exit and search for dry clothing to lend, you grabbed his wrist.
He stopped in his tracks.
“I… I apologise.” You let go of him, and while his muscles relaxed, his eyes crinkled in reaction. Not knowing what that meant, you brushed it aside. “Would you please send Voss House a note? My staff should not be made to worry about me.”
“Of course.” He paused. “Of course, that would be necessary. I ought to have thought of that.”
You blinked, and he was gone before you could ask him about his abnormal behaviour.
He came back with the clothes and, permitting you to change in privacy, left to send off the note. Alone, you allowed yourself to bask in the feeling of wearing Sherlock’s sleepwear old, worn, and warm. Long after you had returned these to him, you would carry that feeling, you knew.
After blowing out the candle, you got into bed and pulled the covers close, but when Sherlock came in, he did not hesitate to tuck you in even more snugly.
“I…thank you,” you whispered into the dark. “You do much, sir, and I really do regret the burden I…”
“Shh,” he replied, and you wished you could see where he was. He sounded close, but the dark could distort perception into either nightmare or fantasy.
As he bustled about the room, ensuring the windows were shut firmly and starting another fire in this fireplace, you started to drift off. The last thing you were aware enough to be sure of was his whispering, “You are never a burden, little petal.”
Your slumber was deep and restorative for the first few hours but soon transitioned into fitfulness. Chills wracked your physical frame while fever dreams wreaked havoc on your mental one, and your only relief was the caring touch of Sherlock’s apt fingers. Whether it was wiping your sweat and hair out of uncomfortable nooks or coaxing you to sip some water with prods to your chin, his touch was your anchor. Sometimes, the back of his hand on your forehead was the only snatch of the tangible world that you could get past the blurred outlines of your ailing state.
At a certain point, the mental fog thickened: during the night—at least, you assumed, though that assumption was merely based on the fact you had been sleeping—you had jerked awake with a whimper, grasping at your leg. You had heard Sherlock’s voice, but your brain tuned it out in favour of blaring at you make it stop make it stop make it stop.
“Hurts,” you’d gasped between jabs of pain around, under, and out of your right knee. You were speaking to yourself, and to anyone who’d listen, and to anyone who wouldn’t. “Hurts s’much. Please, please…”
He had said something. You couldn’t make out the words, but the soothing undertones had lulled you into trusting silence long enough for him to creak across the floorboards and vanish out the door. You’d stumbled, dizzy, into half-consciousness by the time he returned.
“Petal. My dear, open those darling eyes for me, I know you can.”
Though you’d swatted at his prodding hands with irked mutters, you’d opened your eyes.
He had tipped his head at you, grinning. “Very good. I thank you, my lady. Now, I have retrieved something for your pain. Open up.”
“What is it? I do not like laudanum—it is vile,” you had tried to say, but your tongue had felt too heavy, your throat too sticky. Instead, you had shaken your head as vehemently as your vertigo would allow.
He had sat on the bed and rubbed your arm up and down. “Please, do not distress yourself, petal. You are in pain, and it may get worse.”
Shuddering, you had recalled the last time you’d had a bad flare-up. It had left you bedridden for over a day, and it hadn’t been as provoked as this one surely had.
“Do you trust me?” he had whispered.
You had trembled with fatigue, depleted by the simple tasks of keeping your eyelids up and keeping your head above the waves of agony crashing over you. You hadn’t had energy to spare for talking, but you had wanted the words out. “Unreservedly,” you’d croaked. “No matter what.”
His smile had been tender then, and you had opened your mouth to accept whatever medicine he had procured, pungently bitter laudanum or not. Arm around your shoulders, he had helped you sit up and swallow it down. But he hadn’t let go even after that. Usually, when your knee acted up and started affecting your whole body, anybody else’s touch—even presence in the room—felt too much, but right then, with the illness and anguish caused by your recent ordeal, you had felt entirely cosy and right curled up against Sherlock’s chest. Just this once.
“It shall take a few minutes to take effect,” he’d said softly, his warm breath skimming over your skin.
“Mhmm.”
“Until it does, I wished to… I needed to…to clarify a fact…”
You’d hummed, prompting.
“Your leg. This injury, this pain of yours… It is Sulyard’s doing? If not for him, you would not be suffering right now?”
You’d hesitated, then opted to at least give him, if not an expounding answer, a small nod. Surely Sherlock could piece—had pieced—together the details: an argument, a raging husband, a smack, a stumble, a trip, a fall down the stairs.
The full force of those details had resounded in Sherlock’s timbre as he’d growled, “It is almost a shame that he is already dead, for I would gladly skin him now—but only almost, as I cannot repine the betterment of the world in his absence.”
You had buried your smile in his chest. As the medicine—or whatever it was—had started to take effect, you had found the strength to tell him, “’M so glad you’ve returned t’me, Sherlock…” You didn’t catch his reply.
That was the only moment you could recall with any clarity. Though there were more instances of almost-consciousness—you might have even heard the murmur of conversation at some point—the next time you were lucid, you could tell from the stiffness in your back and the grime caked on your skin that at least a couple of days had passed. With a groan, you shifted around on the bed to take stock of your poor vessel for this mortal coil.
Craning your neck this way and that on your pillow, you noted your head was still stuffed heavy and throbbing dully, though no longer fuzzy. Tensing and testing the muscles in your feet, your calves, and your thighs, you could tell your legs were sore and likely would be for some time, but they weren’t so irate with you anymore. Lifting your arms to stretch them, you found them unwieldy but that was no surprise—
What was, however, were the cloths wrapped securely around your hands. You held one close to your face, wheezing, “What on Earth…?”
Your mouth snapped shut as a groan—this one not yours—and the creaking of wood sounded throughout the room. Achingly sitting up, you spotted Sherlock sleeping—and fast awakening—in a chair too small for his wide frame.
Gracious. Has he been here the whole time?
He blinked his eyes open, and you blurted out, “Forgive me, sir; I did not mean to disturb you.”
“I do wish you would stop the constant apologies.”
“Forgi—” You bit your lip. “Ah, that is… Good morning?”
Disgruntlement cleared the lingering sleepiness on his face. “I would argue that it is more of a miraculous one.”
It was your turn to blink slowly. You opened your mouth to apologise for whatever you had apparently done to cause his poor mood, but remembered his rebuke in time. He did not wait for you to come up with something else to say.
“Your condition deteriorated abruptly yesterday,” he informed you grimly. “Your fever broke just as abruptly in the night, so I suppose it was a simple matter of getting worse before getting better, but I cannot… I could not…” Heaving a deep exhale, he veered to his feet. “I demand to know, your ladyship, why you went to Cable Street without me.”
Again, you blinked. That’s what his heartfelt speech led to? “I… I had been caught up in the urgency, I suppose, but I also… At the time, that is, I also thought of it as my burden to bear.”
Your voice had shrunk as you went on, and Sherlock’s next words were just as quiet.
“This could have all been avoided if I had been with you.”
You swallowed. “Yes. It had been reckless to go alone. And you, specifically, I should not have kept out of the investigation, even if it would have been difficult to approach you about it after, well…after. It is no excuse.”
He neither agreed nor countered, stalking over to the fire to stoke it halfheartedly.
“Indeed, sir…,” you ventured, fiddling with the blanket, “I am surprised by the lengths to which you would go to care for me after all I have put you through, emotionally and professionally.”
“I am not,” he said, though he spoke more to the fireplace than to you. “I ought to be, surely. Surprise or confusion or censure—any of those would be natural in response to such illogical choices on my part. But no, what is natural to me in this instant—as natural as breathing, as blinking—is to want you to be safe and healthy, and more than that, to ensure that I see to it that you are safe and healthy.”
He still didn’t face you, but you couldn’t begrudge him his having his back to you, as that was the only way you could muster the courage to say—
“You are not angry, then, sir?”
His shoulders went rigid, then dropped. “After we last…parted ways, I realised you had known all along a potential motive for Sulyard’s death and never shared it. Of course, I was angry—furious, really.”
Your bottom lip wobbled. “Oh.”
“But then—” Slowly, he turned around and walked towards the bed. “Then, I realised you had not been actively undermining the case, not until that day. Which meant you had not known all along a potential motive, which meant it had not even occurred to you that the victim’s abusiveness would be a motive, which meant…”
Close enough to touch, now, Sherlock’s clouded gaze was as clear to you as his deductions were to him.
He sat down gingerly beside you. Which meant you hadn’t even thought your pain was that important.
You let out a shaky breath. Which meant you hadn’t even thought anyone would’ve cared enough to do something about it.
He cupped your cheek and caressed it with the pad of his thumb. Which meant you hadn’t even thought—
“I am sorry,” you choked out.
“My lady…”
“I am sorry I did not tell you about Edmund. Even if it were not the motive, it was pertinent to the case and I— I—”
“Do not be,” he said, his voice firm and grave even as he brushed aside your tears with utmost tenderness. “Do not be. You were right, darling. This is your life. Nobody—not even the closest companion, or the cleverest—is entitled to that.”
You leaned forward, dipping your head down. “You were right, too. Behind society’s and others’ expectations, I have hidden what is difficult to show—to share.” Mrs Rogers’s face flashed in your mind, and then Eudoria’s. “But I…I know not how to stop. I know not how to be the girl you knew, who could be free with her heart and let you in. Not anymore, I fear.”
Sherlock shook his head. “You need not. Indeed, in the past few days, I have realised that despite how I have changed and how you have changed—or due to it—you have not shut me out. I may have been wrong for forcing my way into your private information, but I stand by my belief that I know you. I do know things about you that matter; I was only mistaken in what, precisely, that means.”
Your own voice echoed in your head: You know naught what matters! Shame suffused your cheeks to recall the impetuous harshness with which you’d treated your oldest friend, but still… You could no longer blame him for not knowing you beyond his deductions—it was you who struggled with pushing him away, after all—but the fact remained that he didn’t know you beyond his deductions…right?
Using his thumb now to trace your jaw, he said, “To know you completely does not mean seeing what no one else can see. What you have endured is not who you are. To know you completely means seeing what no one else cares to see.
“I see your sweeping compassion in how you care for Pashbroke, Mrs Rogers, Enola, even Miss Algar. I see your quiet intelligence in how you manipulated your kidnapper so that you could escape, just as you controlled the conversation with Lady Brindon and Dr Crawford.
“I know your character, your values, your scent.”
You stopped breathing, his other hand clasping over yours as they trembled in your lap.
“I can envision how your hips and arms move when you walk, as clearly as I can envision how you would react in any given situation, as clearly as—”
“Sherlock.”
“As clearly as I can envision how at home the taste of you makes me feel.” His lips brushed against yours, tantalising your every sense, your very blood.
The contact was feather-light, a whisper of a kiss, yet it knocked your world completely off its axis. You were left spinning, dizzy, as he eased away.
“You are still the girl I knew,” he breathed into your space. “To know you completely is not a matter of deduction, but of devotion.”
Both of his hands moved to frame your face, leaving yours to tremble all the more freely now. As he drew you closer, your thoughts scrambled for justification. Surely now, surely if, surely with—?
But no. Now that you had gotten the hitman involved, there was only one way to end this without any more bloodshed: to close the case.
Clenching one hand into a fist in your lap, you lifted the other to hold Sherlock back. “We should not… I cannot…”
The hurt in his eyes nearly did you in.
“There are aspects of this case that you do not—cannot—understand,” you whispered. “Sherlock…I still plan to turn myself in.”
For some reason, that seemed to assuage some of his pain. “I see.” He paused before clapping his hands together. “Well then, I am in the mood for a walk.”
You gaped. “A w— What?”
“A walk,” he said, rather cheerily for a gentleman whose advances had just been rebuffed yet again, as he climbed to his feet. “Not far, of course, but you mentioned some weeks ago that light exercise is better for your knee than sedentariness.”
He held out his arm, and through your bemusement, you managed to grab onto it and be pulled up. “I did mention that,” you said, dazed. What was going on?
Slowly but steadily, Sherlock led you to the armoire for a robe, out of the bedroom, across the hallway, into the living room—
You froze. “Is that…?” You strained your ears to confirm that the banging and puttering-about noises were coming from this flat’s kitchen. “Is somebody else here, Sherlock?”
Before the detective could answer, an exclamation came from whoever had evidently heard you speak. Then, there were rushing footsteps, and in ran Viscount of Pashbroke, The Right Honourable William Voss.
Sorry for the extended wait with this one, but hey, it’s the longest part so far! Which I did not expect at all from my outline lol. THIS chapter beat the tearoom and the art gallery and the kidnapping scenes? Okay. xD Thank you for reading. Sickfic stuff is not my forté, so feedback is always welcome!
Taglist [comment below if you’d like to be added!]: @theyaremorethanjustfictional @wonderlandfandomkingdom
#sherlock holmes x reader#sherlock holmes x you#henry cavill sherlock x reader#protective sherlock holmes#x reader sickfic#henry cavill fanfiction#enola holmes#a galling yoke#the dimensions of fandom
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Five times you find an excuse to carry Natasha and the one time she asks
Paring: Natasha x you
Words: 4756
Warnings: some swearing i think
1.
You tenderly grip the side of Natasha's thigh to keep it still as you graze the disinfectant wipe over the shallow cut placed just above her knee, your thumb absentmindedly grazing soft circles across the warm skin.
She was sat on the closed toilet seat clad in nothing but her sports bra and underwear, her hand clinging to both your index and middle finger as her eyes watch your every move.
Scrapes and bruises littered seemingly every inch of her pale skin, marring the already scarred, yet still beautiful canvas that sat before you. Some were sunken in and white, old from years of healing. Some were newer, still pink and raised. Each and every one told a different story. Some of which you knew, but most of which you didn't and probably never would.
You didn't necessarily mind honestly. Because all that you cared about right now was the fact she was letting you take care of her. That she'd allowed you to tenderly undress her without a single word of complaint. You had her trust, and if that's was all she was ever willing to give, it would forever be enough.
Not a single word had been spoken between you since she'd gotten home from her latest mission with Steve just twenty short minutes ago, and you weren't in a hurry to break whatever comfortable silence had settled upon you and you knew Natasha wasn't either.
You give the flesh of her thigh a comforting squeeze when a small, pained hitch of breath emits from the back of her throat at the sting the wipe against her skin, giving the damp skin a soft kiss before covering it with a large bandaid.
You then look up at her from your spot knelt between her legs, content to find her green irises already staring right back at you. They looked exhausted. She looked exhausted, and all you wanted to do was scoop her up into your arms and take her to bed.
The sudden shine of her eyes is what halts you in your tracks.
It was oh so rare to see Natasha cry. To witness her completely drop her walls and allow you to see the true pain she always seems to mask without an issue. It was a sight that has your own throat constricting and without a word, you place your hands underneath her armpits and coax her off of the closed toilet seat and onto your lap.
She straddles you, legs tight around your hips as arms rise to settle around your neck. Your own arms settle around her shaking frame, one hand cupping the back of her head as the other traces soothing circles over the bare expanse of skin.
"I've got you, baby." You finally speak, nuzzling your nose into her neck and taking in soothing scent of slight sweat and vanilla. Your lips press a soft kiss to the skin as you pull away just slightly, tightening your hold around Natasha to reassure her you wouldn't be letting go until she requested it.
She was trembling in your arms, tears hot against your neck, yet her sobs of grief don't make a single sound. Natasha had always been a silent cryer. No matter the circumstance; no matter the situation, it was quiet. All of the time. And you absolutely hated it.
She deserved to feel her grief just as loud and freely as everyone else, yet she fails to agree. She'd never outrightly told you so, but the look in her face as you'd spoken those words had been enough. And so you simply hold her. Love her. Cherish her, hoping that one day she'd realise she deserves the entire world.
Natasha soon stills in your embrace, those once barely audible hitching breaths easing into just quiet sniffles. With a soft kiss to her shoulder to let her know you had her, you place a hand beneath of each of her thighs and haul yourself to your feet.
It was an easy feet considering her slight frame, but that doesn't stop the quiet squeak of surprise that escapes her lips as you bounce her up in your arms slightly to get a better grip, forearms slipping beneath her behind as opposed to her thighs as you carry her through to your shared bedroom.
"I've got you, baby."
2.
"Babe, can you help?!"
At the sound of your girlfriends voice, your eyes instinctively flicker away from the tv and towards the kitchen doorway. You don't wait for her to ask again as you pause the show you were both currently binging before rising to your feet, shuffling through to the kitchen where you were greeted with the sight of Natasha trying, yet failing to reach something on the top shelf of the cupboard.
She was clad in nothing but one of your oversized shirts and underwear, her typical attire after a long day at work.
She jumps, and you couldn't help but snort in amusement when she doesn't even come close to reaching the desired item. She glances back at the sound of your stifled laugh, an unamused look appearing on her face in the form of a pout. Without a word, you walk towards her and cup her cheeks before pressing your lips against the warm skin of her forehead. She all but melts into your touch, and you allow your lips to linger just a few seconds longer than normal because of that.
As you pull away and Natasha falls against your chest, you look up to see the item she'd been attempting to grab was a bag of popcorn. You knew you could easily reach up and grab it for her. After all, you weren't exactly small. But a part of you wanted Natasha to be able to grab it herself. She was miss independent. Always had been and you knew she'd appreciate it if you didn't treat her like she was incapable.
With that in mind, you give her body one last squeeze before bending down and wrapping your arms underneath her backside.
Natasha glances down at you with an adorably confused expression on her face, and you press an affectionate kiss to her clothed chest before standing up straight and bringing her with you. She lets out a undignified yelp at the unexpected action, her arms all but clinging to your head as it settles in between her breasts.
Keeping your arms hooked tightly beneath her butt, you bounce her up slightly wanting her to be able to reach her popcorn without fearing she'd fall.
"What are you doing?" She laughs as she looks down at you. You were greeted with an adorably tiny double chin, and you couldn't help but nuzzle your nose against the soft flesh before gesturing with your head towards the popcorn.
"Grab your popcorn baby." You coax, and Natasha rolls her eyes fondly as she releases you with one arm and successfully grabs her snack. Once it was in her grasp, you don't put her down. You simply allow her to slide down your body so her legs were hooked around your waist. Your arms remain beneath her ass, and you give it a playful squeeze earning yourself a quiet squeak of surprise.
"Snuggle time?" You ask, and Natasha sends you a playful glare before nodding her head and allowing you to carry her back through to the living room.
3.
"Nat? Are you coming to bed baby? It's late and-" the remainder of your words get stuck in your throat when you fully take in the sight that greets you. There your girlfriend was, sprawled out on the gym floor, still clad in her workout gear, fast asleep. She was curled up on her side, hands tucked beneath her chin with legs curled up against her chest.
Slipping into the large room through the small gap you'd created, you kneel down next to her and rest a gentle hand on her bare side. She doesn't make a peep at the touch, telling you that she must be exhausted because Natasha was notoriously known for being one of the lightest sleepers ever.
"Oh baby..." you trial off, unsure as to why she'd allowed herself to fall asleep here when there was a perfectly good bed available just upstairs. It was past eleven at night now, way too late for her to still be working out but getting that into her head was proving to be exceedingly difficult.
You contemplate your next actions for a few silent moments as you stare down at your sleeping girlfriend, not wanting to wake her but unsure if you were able to carry her such a far distance to your shared room. It wasn't that she heavy. In fact, when she was awake you could carry her miles because at least then she was holding up some of her own weight. But she was asleep now, and you knew she'd be a complete dead weight.
Knowing you had no other choice, you carefully manoeuvre her onto her back and situate yourself between her legs before leaning down and placing your chest against her own. Her arms seem to instinctively rise to cling to your shirt, and you couldn't help but smile at the action as you hook one arm beneath her back, placing the hand of the other against the back of her head before easing her into a sitting position.
She was now straddling your lap, head heavy against your shoulder as her hands dangle limply over your shoulders. You take a few moments to prepare yourself before hooking an arm beneath her backside and rising to your knees. Two arms would probably be easier, but you needed that to keep her chest flush against your own so she didn't fall backwards.
With a quiet grunt, you lift one leg so your foot was planted firmly on the padded floor before using all the strength in you to rise fully to your feet. You manage the task with no more than a small wobble, and you silently congratulate yourself as you gently bounce Natasha up into your arms so she'd be more supported.
"What?" You hear her grunt in confusion as her legs instinctively tighten around your waist, and you shush her quietly as you rest a tender hand on the back of her head.
"It's just me, pumpkin. Go back to sleep." You murmur into her ear as you muzzle your nose into her neck, and Natasha let's out a heavy sigh before once again falling limp against you.
Once you were sure she wouldn't wake again, you bring both arms back beneath her behind and begin making your way out of the gym and towards the elevator. You silently curse Tony for making the compound so freaking big as the sliding doors open, arms already aching as you step inside and use your elbow to press the button to the floor your shared room was on.
Natasha, just like you'd suspected, was now a dead weight in your arms, legs limp around your waist and head heavy against your shoulder. You could feel the soft breaths of her quiet exhales against your neck as she sleeps peacefully against you, and you allow yourself to take comfort in the feeling as the doors slide open allowing you to stop out.
The journey to your room was thankfully quick, and you gently bounce Natasha up again so she was at less of a risk of falling when you release her momentarily with one of your arms to type in the code. Soon, you were inside your room, and you let out a quiet sigh of relief as you place one of your knees against the mattress before cupping the back of her head and easing her down onto the bed.
Knowing your next task -stripping her of her tight work out gear and into some comfy pyjamas- would be exceedingly more difficult than the last, you decide to take a few moments and climb into bed next next to her. She seems to instinctively sense your presence, curling up against your chest and throwing one of her legs over your waist, her hand slipping underneath your shirt to rest against the bare skin of your back.
You immediately return the embrace, the hand of the arm acting as her pillow grazing gentle patters against her back whilst your other hand trials affectionately just beneath the waistband of her yoga pants.
With the knowledge that you wouldn't be moving for the remainder of the night, you place a tender kiss to her forehead and murmur a quiet I love you against her hairline before allowing your own eyes to flicker closed too.
4.
When you hear Natasha sigh for the third time in just a few minutes, you force yourself to look away from your book and stare at her with a single eyebrow raised. You were both lounged on the couch, Natasha at one end with her blanket and laptop, and you on the other with your book. You'd both just eaten dinner -Mac and cheese courtesy of Yelena, and you had both taken it upon yourselves to have a few minutes of personal time before you inevitably ended up snuggled together.
When you receive no response to your silent question, you bookmark your place in your book before setting it down onto the coffee table.
"What's wrong miss pouty pants?" You tease affectionately as you poke her with your foot, and the red head sends you an unimpressed glare before seemingly reluctantly bringing her attention back to her laptop. Her hands were frozen on the keyboard, and you could see by the reflection in her glasses that was was working on what appears to be yet another mission report.
Understand her frustration, -because this was the fifth document today, you rise to your knees and shuffle over to her, wedging yourself in between her body and the back of the couch.
Your cheek settles on her shoulder, and though she hesitates, you do eventually feel her cheek come to rest atop of your head. You smile at the action as your arm settles around her waist, fingers creeping beneath her shirt to rest against bare skin.
"When do these need to be in?" You question quietly, and you feel her stomach rise and fall as she takes a deep breath.
"Tuesday." She responds, and you hum in acknowledgement as you reach forward to save the document before closing the laptop.
"What? No! What are you-" she attempts to grab the computer as you reach over to set it on the coffee table next to your book.
"Baby, it's only Friday. You have time." You attempt to assure her as you grab her hand, but Natasha simply shoves you away from her and attempts to make a grab for her computer. Her fingers skim it before you decide enough was enough. Without a word, you rise from the couch, grab Natasha by the underarms and haul her up with you.
She lets out an undignified yelp her chest collides with your own, "What the heck are-"
"No more computers for Natasha today," you interrupt her as you bounce her up in your arms, your arms beneath her backside to keep her supported as you carry her out of the room and up the stairs. She squirms relentlessly throughout the entire journey making it much harder and longer than it needed to be, but you eventually make it upstairs without dropping her on her ass.
"I will kick your ass," she warns in an almost silent growl as you kick your bedroom door open. "Put me down, right no-ahhh!" you toss her onto your shared bed. She glares at you as you climb in next to her, placing a hand on either side of her head.
"What in the actual fu-mhhhfff."
You smirk against her lips when you feel her kiss back without hesitation, knowing you had her right where you wanted her.
5.
Though the sight in front of you was becoming rather amusing, you knew for a fact that if you didn't put a stop to it now, Natasha would hand Tony's ass to him served on a silver platter.
You see, she was sick. And not just a little sick, but a full on fever and flu that had left her so congested she sounded like a duck when she talks. She needed to be in bed. You knew that also, but convincing her was a quiet the fucking task.
You'd attempted to get her into bed, but she'd simply pushed you into it instead, muttering -if you like the bed so damn much, you get in it- underneath her breath before storming out of the room.
Ten minutes later, you were in the meeting room, and the first five minutes had been fine. Natasha had seemingly been able to get herself under control and not a single peep was made. That had changed rather abruptly when Yelena had teasingly poked her sisters red nose, and Natasha, with a sharp glare towards the blonde, had sneezed four times in a row earning herself a look of disgust from Tony.
"Listen red, you're gross and contagious. You're going to make everyone else gross and contagious if you don't get out of here." Tony attempts to be nice about it as he shields himself with a piece of paper, but the damage had already been done if the look of pure anger on Natasha's face was anything to go by.
"You're a man. That automatically makes you gross and contagious. No one likes you and your stupid tin suit so shut your fucking mouth before I shut it for you." She growls, and Tony winces as he sends you a helpless look.
You shrug a little helplessly yourself, not knowing what to do without angering the red head further. As they continue to bicker, you feel a poke to your arm. You look over and see Yelena staring at you with a smirk. It was clear to see she was amused also, but there was a hint of concern in her eyes that wasn't hard for you to miss.
"How much do you like your face?" She asks, and you frown in confusion as you glance between the red head and her sister.
"Quite a lot." You admit, and Yelena clicks her tongue in thought for a second before turning back to you.
"I won't be able to carry her myself, but we have more of a chance if it's two against one." She murmurs, and you hum in thought as you watch Natasha take yet another step towards a terrified Tony.
You knew this may be your only option to get her out of here. After all, it was becoming increasingly obvious that she wouldn't willingly leave herself and there was no way you could talk her out of whatever this was when the threat -Tony- was still within close proximity. You couldn't exactly ask him to leave either, because this was his building.
"Okay. I got her arms. You get her legs." You tell her as you shrug off your jacket, and Yelena nods as she rises to feet and shakes out her arms as it preparing for battle. You snort slightly at the sight, but do the same knowing that by the time you're done, you may no longer be alive.
Yes, Natasha was small, but she was still a former assassin, probably stronger than you and Yelena put together. This was not going to be fun for any of you.
With Yelena close behind, you make your way over to Natasha, stopping just a few feet away. Tony see's you and his eyes light up, proving as a temporary distraction for Natasha who looks confused at the abrupt change of emotion.
Without warning, you lurch forward and grab the red head by the waist, trapping her arms beneath your own as you lift her from her feet. An undignified yelp was your response, and Yelena was quick to step in and grab her flailing legs, wrapping her arms around her calves and effectively pinning them against her own chest.
When it becomes clear she was trapped, Natasha squirming ups a tenfold and you grunt slightly as you begin carrying her out of the room. "What the fuck? Let me go! Stop fucking manhandling me you fucking assholes!"
"Thank you Y/n and mini Romanoff. Bye red!" You hear Tony call, any both you and Yelena share a smirk as you successfully manage to carry the unhappy Russian into the hallway.
"No sex for a week! A month! Yelena I'm stealing your vest and setting it on fire! This is not fair! Let me go!"
Yelena looks mildly disgusted at Natasha's words towards you, but when she hears the threat towards her vest, she looks as though she may cry. When she meets your eyes, you shake your head, silently letting her know Natasha didn't mean it, and whilst she seems doubtful, she does nod her own head in understanding.
Soon, you were in the elevator, a much needed break for your arms and legs because this was way worse than any workout you'd ever done.
"Nat, you're sick," you start as you tighten grip around her. By now, she was becoming increasingly close to getting herself out of your grip, and that would not be good for either of you. "You know what Tony's like with germs. And you need to be in bed. Preferably with some medicine and soup. Doesn't she lena?"
Before Yelena could get a word in edgeways, Natasha throws her head back, and it collides painfully with your nose. You immediately see stars at the action, your eyes burning with the familiar sensation of tears that immediately escape and fall down your cheeks.
Fucking hell that hurt. What was her head made of? Cement?!
Natasha, thankfully, seems unaware of what she'd done, but Yelena see's it and cackles. The elevator doors open, and without a word, you yank Natasha's legs out of her grip, set her down onto the floor, press a kiss to her head to let her know it wasn't her you were mad at before storming off.
"Y/n, no! I'm sorry." You hear Yelena cry. "Don't leave me here with her!!!"
It was your turn to laugh. Serves her fucking right.
A week later, you still had two black eyes.
6.
When the clock strikes one AM and there was still no sign of Natasha, you let out a quiet sigh and kick off the blankets before climbing out of bed. You shiver slightly at the coldness that greets you, pulling on the closest hoodie you could find. It just so happened to be one of the many oversized ones that Natasha's owns.
It falls to your mid thigh and just about covers your ass. You smile in amusement the sight, knowing that this very hoodie all but buries Natasha and falls to her knees.
With a fond eye roll at your tiny girlfriend, you leave the room with the intention of figuring out just where she'd disappeared off too. Instinct tells you she was in the very place you'd left her after heading to bed yourself about four hours ago, and when you reach her office, you figure yourself to be correct.
There Natasha was, still sat at her desk, glasses perched on her nose as her tired eyes flicker over her computer screen. Next to her sat at least three empty cups of coffee, and you sigh at the sight, knowing she'd done everything in her power to keep herself awake despite being exhausted.
Pushing the door open further, you step inside and lightly clear your throat to let your presence be known. Natasha looks up at the sound, her lips quirking up into a small smile at the sight of you in her clothes. It didn't happen often due to your size difference, but either way she absolutely adored it.
"Hi baby." she greets tiredly, and you hum as you step closer and perch yourself at the end of her desk. Her hand immediately settles on your thigh, and you set your own on top of it, trailing the pad of your thumb over the soft skin.
"Hi you. How are you getting on?" You decide not to bombard her with the why aren't you in bed question just yet, knowing it wouldn't do either of you any good.
Natasha sighs as she uses her free hand to pull off her glasses, setting them down next to her still open laptop, "Good. Nearly done actually." She tells you somewhat proudly, and you couldn't help but smile as you gently reach forward to cup her cheek before pressing your lips in a tender kiss against the spot between her eyebrows. Her eyes flutter closed at the gentle affection, allowing you to linger for a little while longer than normal.
"It's late pumpkin." Is all you say as you reluctantly pull away, gentle fingers tucking her hair behind her ear, and Natasha sighs quietly as she nods her head. Her eyes flicker between you and her computer, and you sense that maybe there was something she wants to say but can't quite bring herself to do so. Not wanting to push her, or able to read her mind much to your dismay, you simply perch yourself on her lap and wrap an arm around her shoulder.
Knowing this wasn't something you did frequently nor often, Natasha was quick to wrap her arms around your waist and tuck her head just beneath your chin. In response, you cup the back of her head with your free hand, nuzzling your nose against her hair and taking in the comforting smell of vanilla.
About fifteen minutes pass before you feel her breathing deepen signalling she was growing dangerously close to falling asleep, and knowing her bed would be much more comfortable than her chair, you kiss her head before pulling yourself away from her and rising to your feet.
Natasha looks up at you with an unhappy frown as she grabs the material of your hoodie and tugs in a futile attempt at pulling you back down to her lap.
"No baby," you shake your head as you pry her hands off of you, "let's go to bed, okay?" You attempt to coax, and Natasha let's out a rather quiet, unhappy whine as she attempts to reach for you again.
"Nat, baby, bed. Your chair won't be comfortable." You strive to persuade, bending down and cupping her face in your hands. Tired eyes blink back up at you for just a moment before she pouts and holds out her arms, and you go to take her hands, assuming she wanted your help standing up.
Natasha, however, frowns and shakes her head, only furthering your confusion.
"What is it, my love?"
You watch as hesitation peeks in through the sleepiness lingering in her eyes for just a moment before she swallows heavily and once again holds out her arms. Her lips part, a barely audible question slipping through.
"Carry me?"
It was said so quietly, so nervously it was obvious she was scared that you'd say no. Of course you'd never. Not once has she ever asked you to carry her before. Each and every time you'd done so, you'd been the one to initiate it and not a single complaint had ever slipped from her lips.
It leaves you to believe that maybe, just maybe, there had been many times she'd wanted to ask, but was simply just too scared. Heart melting, you place your hands underneath her armpits and tug her to feet.
"Of course I'll carry you baby. You never have to ask." You murmur, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips before bending down slightly and wrapping your arms beneath her behind. You stand, bringing her with you, and almost immediately her legs hook tightly around her waist, arms loose around your neck as her small hands tangle through the baby hair at the nape of your neck.
Keeping one of your arms beneath her for support, you rest the other across her back and begin to carry her out of the room.
"I love you." You hear her murmur, and you smile softly as you give her body a squeeze.
"I love you more than you could ever imagine."
#soft natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff x reader#sickfic#natasha romanoff x you#natasha x y/n#natasha romanoff#black widow#fluff#marvel#yelena belova#natasha and yelena
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hi lovely! can i request sirius taking care of sick reader?? where he's really sweet like total fluff!!
have a good day/night!!
Hey gorgeous, thanks for requesting! Hope you have a good day/night as well <3
Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 940 words
“Can I just say,” Sirius says, leaning against the bathroom wall, “that this is the grossest thing I’ve ever seen. It’s a testament to your hotness that I’m still attracted to you right now.”
You laugh, and it makes a bit of water come out of your nose, splattering into the sink. Though the bathroom mirror is fogged up from the hot shower you’ve just sat in, you have an idea of what you look like right now, and you’re inclined to agree that it’s a miracle anyone could find you attractive like this.
You’re wearing the same bathrobe you’ve been in all day plus a fabric headband to keep your half-damp, frizzy hair away from your face as you bend over the sink, trying to flush out your sinuses with salt water. Your face is flushed and dry, your lips chapped, and your nose turned an agitated color from tissue overuse.
“Are you sure?” you ask Sirius, taking another tissue from the nearly empty box. “You could leave me, I wouldn’t blame you.”
You blow your nose. It makes a gratifying, horrendous sound, and Sirius’ mouth pinches.
“Charming,” he mutters, but moves closer to you. “No, I’m afraid I’m in for the long haul, sweetness. After I catch whatever it is you have, no one will have me anyway.”
“A cold,” you remind him, wincing as you wipe your raw nose.
“Sure.” You don’t turn around, but you can practically feel the uplifted eyebrow directed at your back. “You done with this part for now?”
You hum, letting Sirius take you back to bed with a hand curled in the fuzzy material of your robe. For someone who gripes about how sick he’s going to get so often, he sure hasn’t been holding back on the physical contact this past week. He pushes you down onto your bed, settling in beside you.
“I know it’s good for your snot or whatever,” he says, low enough you think he might be talking to himself, “but I don’t like you sitting in that hot shower when you’ve still got a fever. I’m freaked you’re gonna pass out on the bathroom floor, and we both know my reaction time isn’t quick enough to keep you from cracking your head on the tile.”
“I’m not gonna pass out,” you sigh, though you do let your eyes slip closed, succumbing to the exhaustion that seems to find you every time you stop moving since you’ve been sick.
“Mm,” Sirius hums discontentedly. You hear him twisting the cap off of something, and when you open your eyes he’s reaching for your face. You stay perfectly still as he cups your cheek in one hand to steady himself, using the other to smear vaseline onto your chapped nose.
You sniffle. “I could do this myself,” you say quietly.
“Obviously,” Sirius murmurs, “but I haven’t been much help, so let me have something to feel like I’m contributing, okay? I promise I’ll ask you to do tons more when it’s my turn to lay around.”
“You made me soup.”
“That was a box mix, babe. When I’m sick, I’m going to want chicken noodle made from scratch.”
You want to point out that chicken noodle soup isn’t all that difficult to make, but you stay quiet.
You wonder if Sirius can feel your heartbeat with his pinkie tucked under your jaw like this, if you’re giving yourself away. It’s always nerve-wracking having someone this beautiful look at you, worse when you know you’re not exactly at your most winsome yourself. But Sirius’ touch is nothing short of adoring as he soothes the cold jelly onto the burning parts of your nose. He’s looking at you with a tenderness you wouldn’t have been able to picture when you first met him and yet suits him perfectly, gray eyes gone soft and quiet like the sky after a storm.
They flicker up to you, catching something in your own expression. “What’s wrong?”
What’s wrong is the unbelievable fondness of his thumb as it coasts down your cheek, the way he blows lightly on your freshly moisturized skin once he’s done with the vaseline, cooling it. The gesture is half teasing and half sincere, evidence of a thoughtfulness he doesn’t often show and almost never admits to. You think that if you were to tell James the other boy would probably bug your room with cameras to try and catch it on film.
Sirius brushes a piece of hair behind his ear. “Does something else hurt, baby?”
“My eyes,” you whisper, pressing your fingertips to the skin underneath your eyes to show him. You can actually feel your sinuses crackling when you apply pressure. “They sort of ache.”
He makes a terribly lovely cooing sound, stroking your cheek and bending to press a kiss to your forehead. “Be right back,” he promises you.
You close your eyes as he goes into the bathroom. There’s not much point in keeping them open when your boyfriend’s not here to admire. You hear cabinet doors opening, the faucet running, and then your mattress dips again.
“Keep your eyes closed,” Sirius murmurs, settling a warm rag over your eyes.
You sigh, the relief is so instant, and you hear him chuckle quietly.
“God, I love you,” you say.
“That feels rather conditional,” he replies. “Would you love anyone who warmed up rags for you and made soup out of a box?”
“I think the real question is, could I love someone who I say ‘I love you’ to and they don’t say it back?”
“Fickle.” Soft lips press to your cheek. “Love you, sweetheart.”
#sirius black#sirius black x reader#sirius black x fem!reader#sirius black x y/n#sirius black x you#sirius black x self insert#sirius black fanfiction#sirius black fanfic#sirius black fic#sirius black fluff#sirius black sickfic#sirius black hurt/comfort#sirius black imagine#sirius black scenario#sirius black drabble#sirius black blurb#sirius black oneshot#sirius black one shot#marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fandom#the marauders#hp marauders#marauders era#marauders x reader
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Sniffle any louder
Natasha Romanoff x reader
Minors dni!! Masterlist°•☆
Summary - when you show up to work il lit aggravates Natasha that is until she sees your dire state
Warnings - mention of illness, nonsexual nudity, hurt comfort, as usual not proofread
Word count - 2k
A/n - I started rushing at the end because I wanted to have it out by tonight so the ending might not be as good srry
Fractures of pain shot through your aching body like icicles as you left the team meeting. God how you wished you'd just admitted you were ill this morning instead of letting your pride get in the way and pretended to the team that you were right as rain. I guess that's what happens when your on a team with literal super soldiers, you too start believing your above any illness or injury. Oh, but how wrong you realised you were when this flu hit you like a ton of bricks. The combined migraine alongside with the distrsssing chill of your bones left little energy left for you to do anything except lie down and rest, which you hated to admit and wouldn't ever given the choice, despite how sickly you'd begun to look.
Your usual bright eyes full of life and wonder became dull and bloodshot from the lack of sleep your blocked nose had caused you the previous night when you chose to ignore it. The skin on your face that was often painted a rosy colour now paled almost deathly looking, comparable to that of a ghost. Your unshakable senses, often remarked as some of the best had become overworked and dulled from the sickness using up all your remaining energy causing you not to notice people around you until they had begun to speak. The gravelly gasping and choking noises that spluttered from your inflamed throat were foreign to your usual bubbly voice.
Despite these stark and clear changes in not only your physical appearance but also how you carried yourself around the compound you had tricked yourself, somehow, into the belief no one around you would notice. Obviously you were unwell anyone could see that from a mile off and if you didn't think out of a house full of spies, enhanced beings and military personnel that not one of them would pick up on something up with you then you must have been seriously down with something.
Unlucky for you someone did notice after your sniffling had interupted their train of thought for the seventh time, it didn't take a genuis but she'd been ignoring the signs since you arrived. Natasha Romanoff had been trying to reread and correct a badly written mission report written by an incompetent intern. This had already been stressful enough for her without the woman next to her trying to desperately through her blocked nose instead of just going home. The first time she actually noticed something was up was when you nearly walked into the door, stumbling around like bambi on ice. This was something someone with your spacial awareness and high senses would never manage to do if they were as okay as they were telling everyone they were. She spotted it again when you began to cough like a smoker and at that like someone who smoked at least five packs a day, a thing she knew you were not. You'd told her a while back that despite your bad habits which were endless and definitely on show today that you never wanted to smoke because it reminded you of your mother. So unless you'd switched up on that which she very much doubted and had taken up chain smoking the answer was clear; you were ill, very ill.
She also questioned why you were even here, how you were even here. Natasha would leap at the first chance to avoid these dull meetings even if it meant admitting illness to the rest of the group. She'd actually faked being ill before to skip debriefs and instead head to the gym. At one point she had no clue how you were even still able to be alive and functioning with how shallow your breaths were. Everytime your mouth opened a disgusting noise alike to the disgust she felt at nails on a chalk board rung from deep in your throat. Aswell your ever scratcher voice that was beginning to drive her insane. It was one thing to come in sick, it was another to make yourself more ill by working harder than usual.
This had made her angry more than anything, angry at your selflessness. Angry no one else would ever do this, including herself. Angry you put working above your own physical health. Angry that you'd risk everyone else getting ill instead of taking a sick day. Angry you couldnt just admit your illness and leave.
Your eighth sniffle really sent Natasha over the edge as she turned to look dead at you and gave you a menacingly dirty look. A scowl that could kill glowering into your soul. Yet in feverly state you could hardly even register the spy looking in your direction as you still tried to process something said in conversation several minutes ago. Throughout the rest of the meeting she sideyed, scowled, gritted teeth, frowned, muttered under breath and cursed in your direction much to you ignorance. On an average day you could recognise what emotion someone was going through just by being in the same room as them and the tone of their breath but right now even with Natasha directly next you, practically right in your face you couldn't pick up a single negative emotion.
After the meeting you quickly stumbled in the direction of your room, hoping to avoid anyone on the way there, which you managed with much ease despite your worsening condition. Once you reached your room you shut the door without bothering with the lock. Stripped to your underwear and crawled back into bed without a sound. Curling up under your soft thick duvets you shivered and slowly cried yourself into a feverish slumber.
Natasha stayed behind to finish her reports, which she easily could have done hours ago without your incessant coughing and sniffling and all round ill noises. It only infuriated her more as she worked quickly, alone and welcoming the silence since the end of the meeting. When she finished up the work she was just about ready to give you a piece of her mind. And thats what she was gonna do. She had strong feelings about you prioritisation of work over wellness and she was gonna share them with you whether you wanted to hear or not.
Easily, she threw open your door and it hit the wall with a bang, enraged she didnt notice your crumpled whimpering figure writhing under the duvet.
"Sniffle a little louder next meeting." She comments loudly and sarcastically before instantly wincing at the sight of you in the bed.
Instantly her whole demeanour changes into one of care and pure unhidden worry. Natasha crouched over your trembling figure on the bed. Quickly she removed the pile of blankets from overtop and pressed a palm to your forhead before just as swiftly pulling it away with a frown. You were boiling 38°c at the very least and yet your body was still shivering. Without thinking twice Natasha knew the best thing for you was a cold, very cold shower.
She carried your somehow still sleeping figure easily into the bathroom as if you were no more than a light weight to her, which you probably were considering her max dead lift. Gently and ever so carefully she sat you down in the bath before turning the cool shower on next to you. Adjusting it so the water pressure was lower than usual so that it maybe less of a shock for when you fully woke.
Soon after the water began to flow your eyes opened to the hazy view before you. Natasha knelt over the bath making sure you were just alright. When you noticed the water and the bath, definitely not where you fall asleep you began to panic. Quickly flailing much like a fish out of water. Thrashing to get out the bath and attempting to scrabble to your feet. Natasha noticed your sudden frenzy and much quicker than you could, grabbed a hold of your hands halting your movements while whispering affirming words to you.
"Shh sh its okay. Your just in the bath, don't worry were just trying to soothe your fever." She begins to rub your palms slowly in a way which soothes you and instantly slows your panic as you go to rest your head on the bathroom wall.
"Hm don't do that darling. Try and stay awake while your in the bath, just for now." She's says quietly afraid to worsen the headache you already had as she coaxes your head off the wall. "That's it good girl. You can do this."
Her small praises would have usually annoyed you and felt almost condescending but right now they were almost enough to make you smile. She was making you feel as if your feeble attempts to stay conscious were really doing anything.
"M' so tired." You mumbled out a response that slumped together into your mouth so it was barely understandable to Natasha yet she still smiled and nodded at you, not wanting you to feel any worse than you already did.
"That's okay sweet girl, the sooner we get you out the bath and some medicine down you the sooner you can sleep." All the while she kept rubbing at your hands and fingers to keep you grounded in the moment. "I'm going to find you some fresh clothes just stay here."
You nodded but the minute Natasha left your head flopped back against the wall as if magnetised towards it. Upon her return with fresh clothes Natasha tutted.
"You really aren't well, are you?" A small attempt at a nod on your part did not surprise her one bit. "See if you told someone earlier we wouldn't be here right now. You have to ask for help when you need it." She knew her words meant little to you in your current state but she wanted to start bedding them in now nonetheless.
"Now, do you need help getting dressed? There's no shame in needing the help."
"Uhm.. I think a bit." Your response was croaky and your voice was beginning to sound worse by the second.
"That's okay, I'll help you then." She gives you a hand getting out the bath and holds you upright as she helps fully undress you. In her panic to get you in the bath she hadn't thought to remove what you were wearing.
You weren't insecure about your body but something like this would usually not be on with you. But right now you knew you couldn't refuse the help Natasha was offering as you could barely even stand still yourself. So begrudgingly you allowed her to undo your bra and slip off your underwear before tossing them in the bath saying something about getting them to the wash later. Putting on the fresh clothes was easier than either of you anticipated as you didn't resist and her strength helped you from falling against the cold tile floor.
Natasha helped you hobble back towards your bed which you instantly fell against ready to embrace sleep again.
"Ah. Not so quick, first the medicine then sleep." She said softly handing you first a couple pills and some water. "For your headache." Begrudgingly you took them and Natasha smiled as she saw the look of grimace on your face finding it both amusing and adorable. "Okay sweet girl just the syrup left, this will help for your throat." You stared at the syrup in your hand with a frown. Just the smell of its contents was enough to make you dry heave and its colour wasn't tempting either. After two minutes of more convincing and praise you managed to stomach it, not all of it but enough so Natasha was happy enough to stop bothering you.
You knew after that you could finally emmerse yourself in a blissful slumber and with little care curled up, face pressing into Natasha who watched over you as you slept making sure nothing interupted your much needed rest.
Tags: @wandasfifthwife @yanaromanov @idkwhatever580 @stayevildarling
#natasha x reader#natasha romanov#natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff fluff#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha x you#natasha x y/n#natasha romanoff x you#natasha x fem!reader#natasha romanoff x female#natasha romanoff x fem!reader#hurt/comfort natasha romanoff#sickfic#fanfic#natasha Romanoff sickfic#marvel natasha#natasha mcu#natasha avengers
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GENSHIN MEN & LETTING YOU TRACE THEIR SCARS.
characters. xiao zhongli diluc kaeya childe scara x gn!reader
genre. romantic fluff.
an. i love them ur honour :3 | please reblog!! im getting back into writing and reblogs with tags and comments will make me want to write more :D
xiao
it's a big deal – don't tease him, please treat him with care. xiao allowing you to see the marks of his past is not something he takes lightly ... you're special. he trusts you. the scars haven't healed yet and the scars will not heal. trace his back lightly and watch as he winces; please, hold him gently. perhaps for the first time in eons, something wet drips down xiao's face.
zhongli
zhongli lets you see his scars – it's not something he hides, but something he trophies as a reminder of his old life. he's not the old geo archon anymore, but he smiles while fondly regaling his tales of old, victorious battles. each scar tells a story – and with each scar you point at, he answers with a soft hint of bittersweetness, melancholy, and regret.
diluc
goes completely silent the minute you touch it. he's not mad – don't worry, but it's such a sacred part of himself that he reels when he realises that he's let someone in so much to this point. it'll take him a while to get used to it; please don't mix his confusion for anger. he loves you, even though it's hard for him to comprehend because your love is blinding.
kaeya
kaeya tries to shrug it off. it's not every day he feels that sour twinge of vulnerability inside – please stay calm, please don't make a big deal out of it – if he freezes, don't be taken aback. touching the fragments of his past is frightening, so treat him with the love and care as you would with a little animal. kaeya certainly feels like one, sometimes.
childe
his breath hitches – it's ticklish, but also... electrifying. no one has ever drawn stars around his scars before. it's exciting, even – to feel his triumphs in a carefully handled light. he's always shown it off loudly and proudly, but for his wounds to be treated delicately ... it's an unfamiliar feeling. but nothing is every truly unfamiliar when it comes to you.
scaramouche
he doesn't enjoy it at first. he grumbles, tching in annoyance – why is this necessary? you've seen it plenty of times. scara is taken aback by how quickly you withdraw your hand – scara's body is a temple, and you don't want to overstay your welcome after finally being let in. perhaps you're different, and perhaps... he likes the warmth of your touch.
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reblogs w/ tags & comments help me lots !!! if you liked this and would like to support me, please consider dropping me a follow as well :-) they all go a long way!
#astronetwrk#zhongli x reader#kaeya x reader#diluc x reader#childe x reader#zhongli fluff#kaeya fluff#diluc fluff#childe fluff#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#genshin x gn reader#genshin impact x gn reader#[📝 stewardess' notepad!]#genshin fluff#domestic fluff#xiao x reader#xiao x gn reader#xiao fluff#sickfic#scara x reader#scaramouche x reader#scara x gn reader#scaramouche x gn reader#scara fluff#scaramouche fluff#wanderer x reader#wanderer x gn reader
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Chicken Soup for Carmy
⚠️ Content Warning ⚠️ harsh language, sexism and violence in one scene (not from Carmy). Hurt/comfort, fluff.
A/N: I’m literally feral for this man. I’m sick atm and I started thinking about taking care of Carmy while I was making chicken soup. Bonus combo with Carmy protecting you from an asshole customer. Not proofread bc my brain is rotting. Plz be nice this is my first time posting a fic 🥺
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It was cold. You braced yourself against the harsh Chicago wind as you made your way briskly down the street. After a late night phone call from your brother sent you into a spiral, you couldn’t sleep. You’d been tossing and turning all night until finally, at 4am, you flung off the covers and got dressed. It wasn’t a surprise that you’d come here. This place consumed all your mind and your heart since you started working here a few months ago. You used your key to unlock the door in the alley, sighing with relief as the warmth of The Beef welcomed you inside. It was quiet, the lights were down, it was peaceful. You slipped off your sneakers trading in your kitchen clogs and tucked your things safely away in your locker. You tied your handkerchief on your head as you moved. It was so comforting, the routine of The Beef’s prep work. You felt so at home, moving from the prep area to the walk in, diligently beginning the tasks that didn’t need to be started for a few more hours. He would understand. You thought to yourself as you began to prepare fresh stock for the day. He was a man after your own heart, your boss, Carmen Berzatto.
Avoidant, chaotically emotional, one wrong thing away from a complete meltdown, that you both disguised as workaholic tendencies. As you finely chopped onions, your mind quieted. Everything was shut out except for the task at hand. Your brother’s angry voice on the phone accusing you: “you never come home! You don’t even care about us! You can’t take come take care of your own mother?!” was drowned out by the rhythmic pound of your knife on the cutting board. You were in the zone.
Until a voice startled you out of your bubble. “Chef?” You jolted, looking up at the man before you. Carmy’s hair was messier than usual, the bags under his eyes were deeper and more purple. His lips were parted with each soft breath he took. He gave you a quizzical look. “What are you doing here?”
“I uh-” your mouth felt dry and you tripped over your words, as usual when he set those intense blue eyes on you. “I couldn’t sleep.”
Carmy nodded, not pushing you any further. All he said before moving toward the office was a simple: “Heard, Chef.”
You watched him go, noticing the slump of his shoulders and the labor of his normally spry step. There was no mistaking it, Carmen was sick. You stared at the office door for a long moment before you made up your mind.
You set a heavy bottomed pot on the stove with some olive oil. Your hands moved with well practiced efficiency as you chopped garlic and onions, celery and carrots. The garlic and onions went in first. Then the celery. A sprig of thyme and a dash of white wine. While that simmered you quickly seared some chicken breast and chopped it into perfectly bite sized pieces. All into the pot with chicken stock and water, tightly covered to develop the flavors. Next came the pasta. You cracked eggs into the well of flour, mixing and kneading until it became a smooth golden dough. You carefully, tenderly rolled the dough and cut it into thick, short noodles. A bath in hot water to cook, then they too joined the pot. In no time at all, you were ladling a generous portion into a bowl. You set a toasted piece of chibatta on the side, grabbed a spoon, and took a deep breath in an attempt to settle your nerves. Softly, you knocked on the office door.
“Yeah?” His voice responded.
“Chef?” You entered, nervous. Words failing you as they so often did in his presence, you set the bowl before him. Carmy’s eyes widened. The aroma made his mouth water. He looked to you, gaze softening. “You made me chicken soup?”
Your cheeks grew warm. “Y-yeah, I mean chicken soup always makes me feel better when I’m sick.”
Carmy couldn’t believe you. You noticed? He smiled at you. You were so beautiful. You were always so confident and sure on the line, delegating with efficiency, respect, and authority. He had hired you the second you stepped into The Beef. Your resume was impressive but there was something in the way you carried yourself that truly earned the golden reputation you had in the culinary industry. But you were different with him, in the occasional moments like this where it was just you and him. Shy, almost bashful, gentle, and soft. He loved it. He wanted more of it. He lifted the spoon, bringing a bite to his lips.
“Gotta get a little of everything.” You muttered, eagerly awaiting his response.
Carmy shot you a sideways smile. It was good. No, it was better than good. The warm broth slid down his throat and each bite exploded with a depth of flavor he couldn’t believe. It was pure comfort. It reminded him of being a little kid staying home sick from school. Curled up on the couch while Jerry Springer played, eating crackers and ginger ale until his mom would bring a bowl of chicken noodle soup. But this soup, your soup, was more than that. People always talk about cooking with love but he swore he could taste it. Each ingredient had been so carefully handled. Perfectly chopped vegetables, moist and flavorful chicken. The warm feeling in his chest grew as he inspected the bowl.
“Did uh, did you make this pasta fresh?” He asked, eyeing you.
“Yeah, it’s better that way.” You blushed.
“Thank you, chef.” He said. “It’s really, really good.” Carmy looked down, suddenly feeling heavy. The fear of closeness set into him and all he could think about was how he’d fuck this up. “You-you didn’t have to make this for me.”
“Oh, it’s okay!” You insisted. “It was no big deal.” You began to leave, giving him one last truthful smile. “I like taking care of you.”
“I like taking care of you.” Your words rattled through Carmy’s mind all day. Throughout all of lunch, prep, and dinner he couldn’t stop thinking about what you’d said. The soup you had made was the first thing he’d eaten in too long. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had cooked for him and you’d just done it because you noticed he wasn’t feeling well. No motive, no games, just tender love and concern.
Love.
Carmy shook his head to try and shake the thought from his mind. No, no, no there was no way you actually cared about him. Not like that. You were just being nice.
That’s just who you are; nice. You were always so kind. The way you’d help Marcus workshop pastries, the way you’d make Tina laugh and listen to her talk about whatever trouble Louis had gotten in, how you’d encourage Sydney and remind her that she can do this. Even the way you’d throw snark right back at Richie or how’d you’d always set aside a portion of Family for Fak and Sugar, even Pete. You were always thinking of others. Carmy wasn’t special.
Yeah. Not special.
Carmy insisted the thought as he scrubbed the grill. Not special. Not special. Not special.
“Carmy?” There you were. You were always there. You had a thick denim jacket on, bag on your shoulder, knit beanie pulled down over your hair. Your brow furrowed at the sight of him. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Carmy shook his head. “I’m fine… you uh- you heading out?”
You shrugged, hoisting your bag a little higher on your shoulder and eyeing him skeptically. “Yeah. Are you?”
“Yeah, in a bit.”
You chuckled, more exasperated than humorous. “No.”
“What?” Carmy asked, confused.
“No, you’re leaving too.” You insisted. You were feeling bold. Months of long looks and his hand on your lower back every time he passed you had culminated tonight.
You had taken over the front for Richie while he ducked out to take a call from his daughter. You’d insisted. It was slammed for dinner but everything was going fairly smooth until an irate customer approached you.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” He’d asked, slamming his plate onto the counter.
“Excuse me?”
“I mean are you retarded or something?” He continued. You were stunned into silence. You had never had anyone speak to you like that. “How hard is it to make a fucking sandwich? I know your tits are bigger than your brain but Jesus fucking Christ it’s not hard!”
“I-I…” you were shaking. “I’m sorry that you’re not satisfied, sir. If you like, we can-”
“Not satisfied?!” He screamed. “How can I be satisfied with this piece of shit!”
He hurled the sandwich at you. It hit you in the chest, toppings and sauce splattering everywhere. Before you even knew what was happening, a blur of messy curls shot past you. Carmy launched over the counter, tackling the man. His fist collided with the man’s face over and over while Richie and Fak rushed after him. There was a cacophony of yells as Richie pulled Carmy back. “Get your girl!” Richie yelled. “Cousin! Go get your girl!”
Fak and Richie dragged the man out and threw him into the street. Carmy’s hands grasped your cheeks.
“Hey, hey, are you okay?” He wiped the sauce splatters from your brow. “Look at me.”
Carmy burned with anger as he watched you shake. Your white shirt and blue apron were covered in the sandwich. He imagined what you would do for him if he was in your position. How you’d care for him, how you’d tend to him… so he tried to do what you would. Gently he guided you to your feet and wrapped his arm around your waist. He practically carried you to his office where he sat you on the couch and quickly went to grab a clean shirt from his own locker. You were in the same place he left you when he returned. Carmy knelt before you, taking your face in his hands once more.
“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.” Tears welled in your eyes and you collapsed into his arms. He smoothed his hand over you back, repeating “it’s okay” over and over again. He felt like he was on fire. The feeling of you clinging to him, nuzzling your face into his neck, the smell of you, how you fit in his arms… it was too much. He wanted to run away and never speak to you again. He wanted to wake up next to you every morning for the rest of his life. He wanted to scream. He wanted to feel your lips against his. He wanted to find the piece of shit that yelled at you and rip him to pieces. He wanted your chicken soup every time he was sick.
All those feelings were closing in on Carmy once again as he stared at you across the kitchen. You still had his t shirt on. You were looking at him expectantly.
“Sorry, uh… what did you say?” Carmy’s voice was softer than he expected.
“I said I’ll walk home with you.”
“Oh, no that’s okay. Ive got to-“
“Carmy,” you stepped closer. Your voice was firm but so tender. “You need to get some rest. Come on, I won’t take no for an answer.”
He couldn’t help but smile back at you. “Alright…” he conceded.
The two of you braced yourselves against the cold and hurried down the sidewalk side by side. You argued about who would walk who home. Carmy insisted on walking you to your apartment but you protested on the grounds that he’d just go back to the restaurant once he dropped you off.
“Fine,” you gave in. “But you have to call me when you get to your place so I know you made it home!”
Carmy looked at the ground, smiling. The warmth in his chest from your soup was steadily turning into a molten pool of lava.
“Heard.” He grinned. You wanted to know he’d made it home. You wanted to make sure he rested. I like taking care of you.
“Well, I’m just up here.” Your voice stopped his thoughts from spiraling before it could even start. Carmy’s brow furrowed. “What?” You asked, puzzled by his sudden change in demeanor.
“You live over there?”
“Yeah? Like a block down?”
There was a beat of silence before Carmy let out a breathy laugh. “I live right there.” He pointed to the building on the other side of the street.
“No shit!” You laughed in earnest. Your hand came to rest on his arm. “Guess I’m gonna be walking you home more often.”
Carmy’s entire body was on fire. He could imagine the tingle of your soft hand on his skin through all the layers of clothing. He wanted to hold you close again like in his office, but this time you wouldn’t be crying. A deep pit opened in his stomach. How long before he made you cry? How long before he fucked it all up? Until you hated him and quit the restaurant and everything fell apart because he-
“Hey,” your voice. Always your voice that brought him back. When he looked over at you it was like everything but your face faded into a blurry background. You were all Carmy could see. “Do you want to come to mine? I haven’t eaten and I KNOW you haven’t either.”
Carmy’s heart fluttered. “O-okay.” He started, his confidence rising when he noticed your hand was still in his arm. “Only if you let me cook you something.”
“Ooh,” you smiled. “I’d never turn that down!”
Carmy chuckled, feeling lighter for the first time in years as he walked so close beside you that your shoulders brushed. “It won’t be as good as your chicken soup.”
#the bear#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto x reader#carmy the bear#carmy x reader#carmy x you#carmy x fem!reader#hurt/comfort#sickfic#carmen berzatto fluff
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Spring Showers
〚 Notes - Hello! This was based off this: request! I was meant to post this yesterday I think but something came up. Hopefully this is enjoyable, honestly feels good to write again :) 〛
〚 Pairing - Natasha Romanoff x Reader 〛
〚 Summary - When you’re sick, your day goes from bad to worse. A small car breakdown later and you find yourself unexpectedly bumping into Natasha. 〛
〚 Wordcount - 2681 〛
〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙
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Waking up that fresh spring morning, you rolled over to snooze the alarm that had pulled you out of your slumber, hitting it lazily before letting gravity take control and send your arm flopping over the edge of the bed.
You groaned a little as it hit the edge of your bed, rubbing your elbow with an annoyed look as if somehow death-staring the metal frame would make up for it.
As you begrudgingly got out of bed, the chill of the early morning hit you, sending a shiver down your spine. You had to admit felt a bit off, today. Your head heavy and your throat scratchy but you ignored the signs of fatigue and finished getting dressed and ready for the day.
Nat was always one to be up and out early in the mornings. Running, training or sometimes even just reading, whatever it was, she was definitely up and ready for her day before sunrise. Early bird gets the worm? Well, the early widow gets her 90-minute workout in without being disturbed. She liked it that way.
Unfortunately, it meant you usually weren’t able to see her most days before heading out to work - the rare exception being when you were on a late shift and got a few extra hours at home before heading out.
You weren’t an Avenger like your girlfriend, instead you served the people of New York by working in the local hospital as the Chief Nurse in charge. It was a demanding job, but one you found incredibly rewarding.
The pouring rain grabbed back your wandering attention as you sat sleepily over your chosen bowl of cereal. You hadn’t really had an appetite but had forced a few bites down regardless before you lost interest. Checking your phone, you realised you needed to set off, so you grabbed your car keys and headed out the compound.
As you pulled into the hospital's parking lot, you mentally prepared yourself for the day ahead. You tried to clear your throat as you checked yourself over in the mirror, but it ended in you coughing raspily and sighing in defeat as you rubbed your throat. Maybe water would get rid of the soreness, you thought as you took a tentative sip from your bottle… nope, it still hurt. What a fun day this was going to be.
Whoever said being in charge was fun, was sorely mistaken. Throughout the morning, you found yourself raising your voice more often than usual to be heard over the cacophony of the emergency room. By midday, your voice had started to crack and strain, sending sharp pains down your throat with each word.
Eventually you resigned yourself to your office, sick (literally) of the mix of pitiful, disgusted and annoyed glances you were receiving from both residents and patients.
As you sat in your office, trying to soothe your aching throat and mustering the energy to tackle the mountain of paperwork on your desk, the hospital intercom made you jump as it crackled to life, urgently calling you to the ER.
You groaned but despite your muscle’s aching, your instincts kicked in, and you rushed out of your office towards the ER.
As you entered the chaotic room, your senses were assaulted by the echo of urgent voices and the sharp smell of antiseptic made your eyes water.
You had barely assessed the ongoing situation before a sudden sneeze erupted from you, surprising yourself with its volume. You’d quickly covered your mouth, but the damage was done. Several heads turned in your direction, eyebrows raised in concern.
Before you could even attempt to explain, your boss appeared, her expression a mix of concern and sternness. "What are you doing here, Y/N?" She asked, her tone indicating she already knew the answer.
You tried to muster a response, but your throat rebelled, emitting only a hoarse croak instead.
Your bosses' eyes softened slightly, an understanding look settling on her face. "You're ill," She stated matter-of-factly. "Go home, rest, and don't come back until you're fully recovered. We don’t need you starting an epidemic.”
Despite your protests, she ushered you out of the ER and back to your office to collect your belongings. She helped you collect your things, only stopping to hold a thermometer to your ear as she checked your temperature.
You thanked her hoarsely as she held open the door for you, “Seriously, I don’t want you back until 48 hours after that fever breaks.” She warned with a stern tone but the gentle pat on your back made it obvious she was just worried that’s all.
As you stepped out of the hospital, the chilly rain immediately soaked through your clothes, sending shivers down your spine. You dropped your keys twice as you fumbled to unlock your car, finally flopping down behind the wheel with an drained sigh - a sigh which your crackling lungs despised, reprimanding you in the form of a burning cough.
As you drove home, the rain beat relentlessly against the windshield, blurring the already dimly lit road ahead. Each cough sent a sharp pang through your chest, and your vision blurred with exhaustion. You tried to focus on driving safely, your mind drifting to the warmth of your bed and girlfriend waiting for you at home. Not long now…
But just as you approached a traffic light, your car sputtered, the engine emitting a series of ominous noises before finally giving out with a pathetic wheeze. Panic seized you as you coasted to the side of the road, hazard lights flashing weakly in the rain.
You tried to restart the engine, but it only responded with a feeble groan before falling silent again.
“Oh you piece of shit!” You slammed your hand on the wheel as the car’s engine light flickered an angry red, “Stupid, fucking-“ An awful cough broke off your curse, your grip on the wheel turning white as your lungs burned.
After you caught your breath, you leaned back in your seat, feeling utterly defeated. Each raindrop seemed to mock your predicament, drumming against the windshield like a cruel taunt. With a heavy heart and a pounding headache you pulled out your phone - fighting back exhausted tears as you saw the critical low battery warning flash up on the screen.
You didn’t know the number of any breakdown services or anyone that could really be of help. The most you were able to do was to text Tony to ask him to help you move your car tomorrow. He had always been quick to respond so you found your spirits lifting just an inch higher when he agreed. However, those spirits were surely crushed when you opened up the Uber app on your phone only for the screen to turn black, taunting you with the picture of an empty battery.
“For fucks sake!”
There was nothing more you could do. You’d just have to walk. Nobody was coming to save you. You were a grown girl. You can look after yourself. There was a grocery store just down this road, maybe 10 minutes or so. You’d be able to stop there, rest, maybe pick up a few supplies. There’d be a phone there too, you’d be able to call someone to pick you up.
As you trudged through the rain, each step heavier than the last, you had to practically drag yourself down the street as your congested lungs begged for air. It was hard for see through the constant rain; the whistling of the wind made your ears throb. The chill of your soaked clothes clung tightly to your skin, and the coughing fits continued to rack your exhausted body until finally you’d made it.
You didn’t wait any longer before heading inside. The bright fluoresce of the lights made your eyes sting a little but this was miles better compared to being outside getting battered by the rain.
With each stumbling step, you grabbed a basket make your way to find some medicine. You just wanted something to make you feel better, just anything that would put an end to your awful day.
Maybe you should get some actual groceries whilst you where did. It wouldn’t hurt to stock up the cupboards a little, you might as well consider you were here.
Little did you know your girlfriend was already one step ahead of you.
Natasha’s eyes widened a little as she strolled down the aisle, pushing along half a cart of groceries as she hummed. Y/N? What were you doing here? This was a pleasant surprise and she kept quiet as she snuck up to you.
“Hey bub.” Her warm voice murmured, and you felt familiar arms wrap around the front of your waist. Natasha’s head came to rest on your shoulder as she nosied at what you were looking at, “I thought we agreed that I’d be doing groceries this week.” She purred, kissing the side of your neck sweetly.
You shrugged through gritted teeth, your damp clothes crinkling uncomfortably, “I just needed something.”
“Hold on.” Her brow crinkled just a little, “I thought you had work?” She paused, her face shifting slightly as she realised just how soaked you were. This was not the kind of damp someone got just walking from the car to the entrance. You were drenched! “God, you’re soaked Y/N! Where on earth have you been? Did you walk here?!”
Your eyes cast to the floor. You’d forgotten that it was usually the day that the two of you had gone grocery shopping. Of course, it hadn’t even occurred to you that Nat might’ve been in the store.
“I may have got a little damp.” You sniffled thickly, trying to keep your tone neutral but the painful rasp in your voice instantly gave yourself away, “…and my car may or may not have broken down coming back from work.”
Natasha's concern deepened as she noticed your raspy voice. "Oh, sweetheart, you should have called me. I would've come to pick you up." Her voice softened, filled with genuine worry. Her grip tightened around you a little. “You're not just ‘damp’, you're practically drenched and- oh, what’s this?” Her eyes glanced down, noticing the theme of items in your own basket.
She had just about to ask you about them, but her question was answered when you ducked into your elbow with two forceful sounding sneezes barely seconds later.
“Double bless you!” Her tone shifted instantly to one of comfort, “Guess I don’t need to ask why your voice is so hoarse and you’re buying meds then, hm?” She cooed and you turned around with a pout, letting your head fall onto her shoulder as you wrapped your arms around her.
“You’re not feeling well.” It wasn’t a question, she just looked at you, looking deep into your weary eyes as she continued to hold you, “How long?”
You let out a small cough into her shoulder, “This morning. Got worse at work, got sent home which was beyond embarrassing.” Your croaking voice mumbled in defeat as Nat’s hand came to soothingly rub your back.
“I’m so tired and achy.” You continued, grumbling softly, finally feeling the weight of the day begin to let up as Nat continued to hold you in the moment, “My throat’s been so bad all day and I’ve had to constantly yell at people to do their jobs properly because apparently they’re all incompetent idiots that don’t know their elbows from their arse!”
Natasha couldn’t help but laugh a little at your choice of words but quickly shut up when you shot her a glare - of course the glare had been in no way intimidating with your sleepy eyes and runny nose, but she got the hint regardless.
“Sounds rough sunshine.” She murmured, sympathetically rubbing your back before the two of you began to walk towards another aisle, “Let me get those for you, oh and the car?” She asked, realising you hadn’t explained.
Nat took the basket from your hand and put it in her cart despite your objections, “It just decided to give up on me, right in the middle of driving home. I text Tony and he said he’d get it moved tomorrow but then my phone died before I could call an uber so I had to walk the way back.” You coughed harshly as you explained what had happened, rubbing your throat with a whine.
“That’s some awful luck sweetheart, I’m sorry. How about we get you a few things and just spend the rest of the day being warm and cosy?” Nat offered as a pulled a stuffed animal from the shelf, nuzzling it against your cheek before putting it into the cart.
Your face lightened up a little and you found yourself keeping a little closer to her as the pair of you continued through the store, “You wanna get some ice cream for that poor throat of yours sweet girl?” She asked, but of course she already what the answer would be.
As you nodded eagerly, Natasha smiled, glad to see a hint of brightness returning to your expression. She led you to the freezer section, picking out your favourite flavour without hesitation. "Here we go," she said, placing it gently in the cart beside you. "Oh, and we should get some tea as well, all we have is that herbal stuff Wanda likes but it’s kinda bitter, you’ll feel better with something sweeter. I think.”
She kept her hand softly holding your own you both headed over to find the tea - occasionally pausing as Nat picked up some of the general groceries you needed but it was hard to miss how she kept adding in small treats for you along the way, your favourite drink, snacks she even chose your favourite scent of laundry detergent.
Eventually your fever raging brain felt too fuzzy to keep paying attention, so you switched off, trusting her enough to let her lead you along without asking questions.
Her voice seemed to echo and your vision blur before a hand cupping your cheek brought you back to reality. “Hey, earth to Y/N.” Natasha repeated herself, “You dazed out for a second there sweetie. Did you hear what I said?”
“Uh, no, sorry.” You answered sheepishly, warm embarrassment creeping up into your cheeks.
But Nat only smiled at you, her warm gaze making you relax, “I asked what tea you’d like baby.”
You nodded and turned to look over the assortment of boxes. You weren’t much of a tea person, in fact you never really drank it at all unless you were sick and Nat was definitely more of a coffee girl, herself. As you looked over the selection, a sudden sneeze caught you off guard, you stumbled back a little and bumped into Nat which made your girlfriend shake her head fondly as you sniffled in surprise.
“Bless you again. Looks like we’ll need some more tissues," She deducted, kissing your cheek swiftly before jogging back to the previous aisle, quickly returning with a few extra boxes and added them to the cart.
"You poor thing," Nat said sympathetically, as she opened one of the boxes in the cart and handing you a tissue. "Here, blow your nose love.”
“Thanks.”
“Berry-Bliss?” She read the name of the tea you’d chosen, after you’d finished blowing nose. “Is that one the kind you want?”
You shrugged sluggishly, biting back a groan as your muscles ached, “I’ll give it a try.”
“Worth a try.” She agreed, taking the box from you, not missing the chance to kiss your forehead as she did so. “You’re really warm baby. How about we pay up and get you back home sweetheart? I know you’re exhausted.”
As she suggested heading home, you nodded gratefully, taking her hand and letting her lead you towards the check outs. It wouldn’t take long to pay and get home but when you did, you knew you were in for an evening of cuddling and love.
Who could ask for more?
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sick days | lee minho
✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼
hi! this is my first ever post on here,, hehe. constructive criticism is welcomed, hate is not.
cw: sick reader, petnames, slight cursing, slightly suggestive (??), angstyish oops, mostly fluff! just minho being the cutest bf :3
another hacking cough forces itself from your throat, leaving behind a painful sting and the inability to swallow. a frustrated groan emits you, followed by disgruntled sniffle. you hate being sick.
sore throats, gross coughs, painful headaches, and a stuffed nose were all a recipe for disaster — especially today. you and minho had planned out the perfect date; a picnic, stroll in the park, and finally a movie. you had looked forward to it all week, barely getting through. only the promise of seeing your boyfriend kept you going.
you turn over on your side, the gentle movement sending another round of pain signals ringing in your head. tears sprung to the corners of your swollen eyes. you were devastated at having to miss your date. blearily, you swung a hand over to the bedside table, blindly searching for your phone.
once found, you swiped over to minho’s contact. pressing the call button, you slumped back onto your pillow defeatedly.
“jagi?” came the sweet voice of your boyfriend. “what’s up?”
an exhausted whimper answers him. “min.. min i’m sorry” is all you can utter.
his voice instantly is filled with concern. “what’s my love sorry for, hm? is everything okay?”
“no, m’sorry min.. i feel so bad. my head hurts, and i puked earlier, and it —“ another pained sound exits you. “— it hurts.”
something shuffles over the phone, and your boyfriend is quick to reply. “oh, my poor jagi. i’m on my way, don’t worry.”
you furrow your brows. “wh-what? no no you don’t have to do that, min!”
“see you in five.”
your eyes rolled as your boyfriend hung up on you a abruptly (like he always does — and it never fails to surprise you). coughing again, you accept that there’s nothing you can do to stop him from coming over. you scan your messy room and groan. you’re sick! you don’t want him to see you like this!
you swing your legs over to the side of your bed, only pausing when a sneeze erupts from your pinkened nose. you settle your socked feet on the floor and attempt to rise to your feet.
you sway, blinking harshly as to try to clear the black spots plaguing your vision. maybe getting up wasn’t the best idea..? oh well.
slowly, you begin to shuffle around your room, picking up discarded clothes and trying to round up any embarrassing wrappers or trash. you’re halfway through folding another t-shirt when your body flashes hot, then cold. the pounding in your head increases tenfold and you drop the shirt in favor of clutching your temples. spots engulf your sight and you sink to your knees, not even attempting to make it to the bed.
you’re sweating. but the ceiling fan above only makes you shiver, goosebumps lining your arms. everything is too bright, and you squint from a combination of a headache and the glaring overhead light that suddenly feels like a thousand suns beating down on you.
another whimper crawls out of your dry throat. the only thing your fever-weakened mind can think is minho. where is minho? you need him, it hurts it hurts everything hurts —
“jagi?! oh my god, are you okay?” thunderous footsteps make their way to you and you wince at the sudden exclamation.
cold, cool hands press themselves to your trembling body and you sigh in relief. they stroke through your hair, carding through gently. you open one eye to see who they belong to, but clamp it shut immediately, the bright light making your eyelids pulse.
you hear shuffling from the side, and one of the hands leave you. you suppress a whine, but something in your expression must be alarming because the voice coos. “oh, baby, i’m just turning off the light, okay?”
no, it’s not okay. not when those hands are the only thing grounding you, keeping you from melting. however, as promised, the offending light gets shut off, and you hum in appreciation.
the nice hands quickly return to their rightful place in your hair, and you bravely attempt to open your swollen eyes again.
your boyfriend looks down at you gently. “my poor girl. let’s get you back into bed, hm?”
you nod pathetically, letting him lift you up and place you softly on your mattress. you murmur a quiet thanks and he kisses your sweaty forehead in response. he sits on the side of the bed next to you, placing his hand on your leg and rubbing comforting circles into your skin.
“have you eaten at all yet?” he inquires.
you shake your head, “no, not yet. i don’t think i could eat a thing without puking it back up, to be honest.”
minho hums at that, scanning your face. he reaches out and places a small hand on your forehead, feeling out your temperature. he frowns.
“i think we need to check for a fever, honey. you’re very warm.”
he moves to go stand and you pout. “don’t leave, please.”
“i’m just going to grab the thermometer and a glass of water, i’ll be right back, okay?”
“be fast!” you plead.
he cards a hand through your hair. “i’ll be so fast, jagiya.”
it feels like an eternity as minho tries to locate the thermometer from outside your bedroom. you shiver again, pulling the closest fuzzy blanket over you and burrowing into it.
and that’s how he finds you when he returns — a sweaty, sick burrito. you watch as he smiles down at you fondly, pulling back the blanket a little to take a look at you.
“think you can sit up for me? need help?” he asks.
“need help, please,” you respond nasally.
minho aids in positioning you up so you’re leaning against your pillow. he holds out the found thermometer and motions for you to open your mouth.
you oblige and he places the thermometer under your tongue. after a few moments, he pulls it out and looks down on it with a displeased expression — like it personally offended him.
“100.” he states, his brow crinkling. “yeah, you’re not leaving this bed.”
you sigh and slump farther into your blanket. “i’d rather hear that in a different situation.”
minho blinks slowly, fondly. “i’ll ignore that, just because you’re sick.”
you stick out your tongue as he rises from the bed to put away the thermometer. he looks down at you, unimpressed, but with a twinkle of amusement in his catlike eyes. “brat.”
“i’m sick!” you whine, “be nice.”
“i am being nice. so nice, in fact, that i’ll ignore this little attitude —“ he reaches down and pokes your forehead, “— because i know that you feel like shit.”
you roll your eyes when he’s turned and putting the thermometer in some drawer, but deep down you’re very grateful he came over to take care of you. for all his teasing, he really does treasure you. you still feel bad for canceling the date.
in some feverish, dramatic mood change, tears begin to well in the corners of your eyes. they’re hot and uncomfortable, and you sniffle. not only did you cancel the date, you’re acting like a brat instead of thanking minho for looking after you.
“m’sorry,” you croak from your cocoon of blankets.
minho turns around sharply and scans your face quickly. he strides over to the bed and sits beside you. “what?”
“m’sorry!” tears begin to trickle down your face, sticky and unwanted. you reach up to swipe them away.
minho’s hand reaches out, grabbing onto your arm and lightly tugging you into his chest. “silly girl. what are you sorry for?”
“f’making you come over and take care of me and being a brat and not saying thank you!” you rush out, slurring some words.
a chuckle shakes minho’s chest. “oh wow, you’re really out of it, huh?”
“i’m sorry!”
“hey, hey,” his joking manner disappears when a fresh wave of tears erupts from your eyes. “you have nothing to be sorry for. you’re sick. you have a fever, baby. you aren’t being a brat, i’m sorry i called you that when you weren’t feeling well.”
you peek up at him. “you mean it?”
minho doesn’t respond, just pulls you tighter into his chest and kisses the top of your hair. his cool hand rubs on your back soothingly under your shirt. he gently lays back onto your bed, cradling you to his chest.
“try to sleep some of this off. take a nap,” he orders you lightly. “i’ll be right here.”
at his words, you snuggle into him. he reaches to the side and pulls a blanket over the two of you. just before sleep takes it’s hold over you, you look up at him, catching his eye.
“thanks for being here, min. i love you,” you murmur, your eyelids getting heavier and heavier as you begin to succumb to sleep.
the last thing you hear before sinking into feverish dreams is, “anytime, baby. i love you more.”
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yas! ok! first post done, please lmk what u think!!!1 reblogs and likes are appreciated:3
#sickfic#lee know x reader#skz x reader#skz imagines#skz fluff#skz angst#lee know imagines#lee know angst#lee know fluff#lee know drabbles#stray kids x reader#stray kids scenarios#stray kids fluff#lee minho x reader#skz x you#you x skz#stray kids reactions#stray kids reader insert#lee know x y/n#skz x y/n#skz lee know#lee know#lee minho#lee minho imagines#lee minho x you#lee minho fluff#skz
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The cycle of life
Azriel x Reader
Fae cycles suck, thank the mother for your attentive mate who is there to provide you with all of the smut and fluff you desire.
warnings: smut, language, self-esteem and body image struggles, anxiety, slight breeding kink
She didn’t know when the self-loathing crept in - although it was always the first sign. The week had been busy, she’d poured herself into her work. Being a bookkeeper for such a wealthy court was… tiring to say the least. It was fulfilling work, especially when it came to the Court of Dreams. Balancing ledgers and creating budgets for various charitable endeavors was a duty she was proud to take part in. The High Lord and Lady’s efforts in keeping their court thriving was admirable. Most would find the work mundane, and she supposed it could be, but accounting always felt like a puzzle to her - using her brain to solve problems and contribute to the advancement of the Night Court was rewarding.
She wasn’t perfect though, despite that desperate desire within herself to be. She’d push, and push, and push herself completely overlooking all the good she did and absolutely berating herself internally when the occasional mistake occurred.
Azriel was her number one supporter. She’d always imagined him to be better suited for the likes of a fellow warrior such as Mor or a Valkyrie like Gwyn. Perhaps even someone soft and lovely like Elain, a glowing beacon to come home to. Y/N had told Azriel as much when he began pursuing her.
“Why me?” She’d wonder to herself as she assessed her figure in the mirror - overlooking the enticing feminine curves that all but screamed “squeeze me, grip me, take me”, the way her plush lips bowed into a perfectly kissable pout, how her radiant skin that nearly glowed rendered her ethereal. She only saw imperfections. Not to mention that she wasn’t graceful or stealthy, she couldn’t cook or keep plants alive to save her damned life, and she had a tendency to get stuck inside her mind.
Truthfully this week was more than busy, it was hard. She’d pushed herself to meet deadlines that she’d gotten behind on due to an influx in workload. She’d made a few mistakes that nobody had issue with - except herself. Nuala and Cerridwen were taking well-deserved time off, leaving the essential household tasks on the back burner. Between working endless hours, Azriel being gone on a mission, and a flare up of the anxiety that she’d put so much effort into working through over the years - she was exhausted.
Physically her muscles ached, stomach cramped, and her head pounded as the all-too-familiar symptoms of her impending semi-annual cycle took root. Her mind and spirit were utterly fatigued from the busy week, the flare up of anxiety, and the overall stress of life. She was desperate for Azriel to return from his mission soon.
It was around 9PM when she coerced herself into wrapping up work on Friday night, she spent three hours afterward tending to the house and catching up on neglected tasks from the week, too tired to even bathe as she crawled into bed - sleep claiming her immediately.
She awoke the next day to a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Hello beautiful.” Azriel whispered against her skin, pulling back to allow those intense hazel eyes a chance to examine her. Her eyelids fluttered and brows furrowed as she let out an exhausted groan, “baby…” a small smile lifted the corners of her mouth as she reached toward him in a needy manner that made his heart ache. He hated leaving her for missions though she always understood and supported him. He leaned down, wrapping his arms around her body, letting his warmth seep into her bones as she melted into his embrace.
Azriel noticed the flinch she made as the sun shone through the window into their room, quickly flaring his wings to block it from view until her eyes adjusted. “What’s wrong, love?” He whispered, though he already had an idea. The heat of his breath against her ear sent chills through her, prompting her to give a quick nip to his neck before kissing it.
Gods, she’d missed him.
“Nothing baby.” before he could call her on her lie she continued, “what time is it?”
“Well, you missed breakfast.” He smirked.
“Ugh… how did I sleep in so late?” She sat up, rubbing her tired eyes.
Azriel shrugged “Your body must have needed it.”
“Says you.” She scoffed. “You were off all week doing physically demanding work and busting your ass for this court… while I sat on mine balancing ledgers.”
“Y/N…” he spoke, his low voice barely more than a warning growl. “We’re not going to do that. You are allowed to feel tired, allowed to let your body rest. Your work is important.”
She sighed, knowing better than to press on. She knew to pick her battles and that this one was not one she would win.
“Fine.” Y/N shrugged, eyeing a paper bag on the bedside table. “What did you bring me? Please tell me it’s something with chocolate.”
Azriel’s lips curled up into a grin that she’d never tire of seeing, handing over the bag. “See for yourself, darling.”
———
Azriel knew from the moment he stepped into the quiet house that she’d need extra love and attention today. His loving, caring, selfless mate who typically rose early - he swore the sun rose on her accord and not the other way around - was still sound asleep in bed.
He immediately exited the house before she could sense his presence and stopped by her favorite bakery along the Sidra. Chocolate croissants were a necessity in times like these. She’d need a pain relieving tonic, epsom salts and soothing oils, and a bouquet of flowers couldn’t hurt either.
He went ahead and picked up ingredients for a few quick meals and a new book she’d mentioned recently as well.
He had to laugh at the irony. His mate often questioned her worthiness of him. HIM. She couldn’t see what he saw. A passionate, intelligent female who cared for her mate, her court, and family more than anything. Always putting her own needs last but the first to volunteer when help was needed. The cauldron truly found his equal - someone who gave and gave but it was never enough. Someone who couldn’t see her own worth, her pure heart, her devastating beauty - while the rest of the world marveled at it.
She’d been the catalyst in his own self-acceptance. He’d spent centuries believing he wasn’t enough, that he was unworthy of a mate, of his position, of the power he was born with - just to meet this intelligent, radiant being who could bring an entire room to a halt and assume they were only seeing flaws. Not the beauty that could make even kings fall to their knees if she’d only ask. When the bond snapped, he decided then and there that he would show her just how worthy she was. In the decade they’d been mated, she finally started to see her worth, how precious she was to him, to those she graced with her presence. But life is complicated and triggers are inevitable, especially when it came to the flare of hormones that accompanied an impending cycle.
—————
The chocolate croissants were a win if the drawn-out contented sigh Y/N let out upon finishing her third one was any indication. He’d shared details of his mission as she indulged in the pastries and she gave him a few details of her week - frowning as she went into detail about the “mistakes” she’d made.
They were common mistakes that anyone would make, truthfully, some weren’t even her fault, but he listened as she let it out. He’d learned over the years that sometimes she just needed to get it off her chest and not advice. Simply hearing each other out had become a key element in the foundation of their relationship - when thoughts became too much - they were always listening ears for each other.
Once she’d gotten it off her chest she changed the subject by asking, “What do you want to do today?”
Azriel had a lot to do - but his mate took priority this weekend. He gave her a wicked grin, “I want nothing more than to waste away in this bed with you all day.”
“But?” She replied.
“But nothing.” He flicked her nose. “I want to spend the day in bed with my mate - is there something wrong with that?”
Azriel could see the war in her mind. Debating whether she deserved to take a day off, or should tend to other tasks. Before she could object he leaned in, lips capturing hers in a deep, loving kiss. She immediately opened for him, his tongue lazily tangling with hers. “Fine” she murmured.
“That’s my girl.” He cooed before returning to claiming her mouth, the shell of her ears, her neck.
“Mmm” she purred into his kiss while he palmed at her breast through her silken cobalt night gown. Her swollen breasts immediately peaking beneath his touch.
“So responsive” his low voice growled into her neck, sending fire straight through her, igniting her core. “Is that beautiful pussy as ready for me as these are?” He asked, tweaking a nipple through her gown.
The responding moan told him more than enough as he hitched the hem of her nightgown up to her waist, exposing the dripping cunt practically begging for him underneath. His eyes rolled back at the intoxicating scent of arousal drifting up into his nose. “Holy shit, Y/N.” he groaned, clearly pleased with the sight.
He ran a finger through her slick core, adding a teasingly light amount of pressure to her clit but before he could insert a finger she moaned “No Az, I can’t wait. Please.”
“You don’t want my fingers?” He teased, slipping one inside of her. Mother, she was absolutely soaked.
“Az…Fuck. No. Please.” She pleaded. Reaching down to palm the hardened length beneath his sweatpants. “I need that inside of me. Now”
Typically he would reprimand her for being so demanding, robbing him of his playtime with her sweet, dripping sex. But the desperation in her voice left him desperate to oblige her.
“Since you asked nicely.” He replied, to which she frantically helped him out of his pants.
Before she could reconsider taking more fingers, he thrusted his length into her. Hard. Every thick, aching inch of him, stretching and filling her completely.
“Like that?” He asked as her moans filled the room.
“Yes. Yes, Az.”
“Fuck.” She cried out. “Just. Like. That.” Each word coming out individually timed to the thrusts of his cock.
There was no way he was going to last long at this pace, especially after being away for a week. “Not gonna last long like this. Fuck!” He ground out.
She grit her teeth as his thrusts became harder, more erratic. “Then fill me, Az. Need your cum.”
Slipping a hand between them, he pressed his thumb to her clit, moving it in that perfected motion he’d finessed over the years as he diligently studied her body, a scholar whose sole discipline laid in pleasuring his mate. Locking his eyes with her, he gently commanded “Cum with me baby.”
With that they both let go. Their releases filling the room like a song. A melody Azriel would never tire of, one he replayed in his mind somehow far too often, yet never enough during his time away.
Azriel stayed inside of her until their breaths settled, evening out into sync with eachother. He reveled in the warmth of her. His perfect mate - physically, emotionally, spiritually. He’d never take this for granted.
Finally he pulled out of her in one long sweep, she looked down to admire the still considerable length of him even when partially softened. Her stomach dropped to see blood mixed in with their combined releases.
“Az, oh, I’m so s-” She started but he cut her off.
“Baby. It’s just a little blood.”
She almost looked ashamed. “I know but- I’m embarrassed.”
“Embarrassed?” He puzzled. “It’s completely natural. Do you really think blood bothers me? Come on now beautiful, we’ve had sex during your cycle before. Why shy away now?”
“I just didn’t expect the bleeding to have started already. It explains why I’ve felt so lethargic, I suppose.”
Azriel went to get a warm cloth from the adjoined washroom, returning to wipe her. Her cheeks flushed at the intimate action.
“Stop overthinking it. Besides, we’re mates.” He smiled, a soft look overtaking his eyes. “If you still want to have children with me someday, your cycle is kind of an essential step of the process.”
Y/N flushed at the comment. The thought of carrying his babies was something she’d dreamed about for years now. Thank the gods for her distant Illyrian ancestry and the genes that blessed her with curvy hips capable of birthing winged babes.
“You know, with my cycle returning… we could always start trying? If we stopped taking our tonics now - it should be out of our system in time for ovulation. Rhys has offered recently to let me bring on an assistant book keeper, which would be excellent timing.”
Azriel’s heart fluttered at the thought of it. His mate round and glowing as she carried their baby, a babe that would know so much more love than he ever had as a child. Something so pure and beautiful that could come from the love between he and his mate. They’d talked about it for years now, a dream of theirs. He had to quickly blink away the silver lining his eyes at the gift she was offering him, his selfless mate in all her infinite love. There was no way he could verbally reply in the moment without choking up so he sent waves of adoration, joy, and gratitude down the bond.
She sent every bit of love right back to him, propping up on her elbows to capture his lips in a promising kiss.
———-
After they came to a decision, Azriel carried Y/N to the bathing room where a hot bath full of the oils and epsom salts he’d picked up that morning were waiting. She nearly cried at the relief of the welcoming heat that greeted her.
Before she could object, Azriel quickly stepped out to change the sheets, promptly returning to slide into the bath tub behind her. He washed her hair, massaging her scalp to which she nearly purred like a cat. He carefully washed her entire body massaging her back, thighs, calves, shoulders, and breasts in the process. By the time he was done tending to her, she’d nearly fallen asleep.
Ever the caretaker, she tried to wash him in return but he insisted that this was about her - passing her a rolled up towel to place behind her neck while she relaxed, letting the oils from the bath soak into her skin as he lathered himself. He got out first, toweling himself off before lifting her out of the tub and drying her off with a heated towel.
Though she insisted she could do it herself, Azriel wasn’t having it. This was his day to care for his mate so he helped her into cloth lined linens and selfishly left her topless, slipping her underneath the fresh blankets.
He assured her he’d be right back slipping out to the kitchen to heat up her favorite gnocchi soup and fetch a tray he’d prepared with her pain relieving tonic, bouquet of flowers, and more chocolate.
It didn’t take much to bring his mate joy - the genuine gratitude she’d send down the bond at even the smallest gestures was never lost on him. Perhaps it was self-serving but he couldn’t resist surprising her, coveting each warm smile she’d give him as if he’d never feel warmth again.
He prayed their future babes had her smile, her eyes, any of her features, truly. But most of all, her heart - maybe then, beating within the most precious gift the mother could offer them, she’d finally see just how beautiful she really was.
————
He had to beg and plead like a mad male but finally she agreed to spend the entire weekend in bed with him. Who knew that he, the one who was typically the workaholic, would be the one to grovel at his mates feet begging her to take a break.
Fortunately, she was not immune to his charms and obliged him. At one point, she snuck out of bed in an attempt to accomplish a few tasks around the house before her cramps humbled her. Azriel was promptly startled awake from the nap he’d drifted off to as she loudly exclaimed from down the hall, “Fuck it. Back to bed.”
They spent the rest of the weekend making love, whispering of their dreams for the future, indulging in sweets, and reveling in each others touch with no shortage of laughter and kissing in between.
——————————
A/n: So I’ve totally been under the weather this weekend with no motivation to write but as I laid in bed with my own partner tending to me with whatever I needed, I couldn’t resist writing this. I intended it to be a Drabble but the words just kept flowing. I stan fluffy Az. Anyway, thanks for reading!
For those of you waiting on new parts to my current fics - I promise they’re coming along and will be out soon! xo ♥️
#sarah j maas#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#a court of silver flames#a court of frost and starlight#azriel#a court of mist and fury#a court of wings and ruin#azriel shadowsinger#azriel x reader#acotar smut#acotar fluff#sickfic#shadowsinger#shadowsinger smut#shadowsinger x reader#acotar oneshot#fluff and smut#acotar fluff and smut
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Slashers getting sick
Michael Myers:
• He's pissed
• How could his body do this to him??
• kinda betrayed ngl
• will refuse medicine
• He's to strong for that 😒
• also it tastes yucky
• your probably gonna have to make him tea with honey if you want to actually help
• coax him into bed with the promise of candy afterward
• that's about all he'll let you do
Billy loomis & Stu macher:
If only stu is sick:
• he will be super clingy
• wants to eat but physically can't
• might just lay in bed crying
• you and Billy sit with him and make sure he sleeps
If only Billy is sick:
• attempts to power through it
• ends up fainting
• you and stu are great care takers
• you two have to dog pile on Billy to make him lay down
If both are sick:
• They kind balance each other out
• Billy wants to get up and move, stu wants to lay down and cuddle
• thank God you have a more than one bathroom
• you have to hide stu's medicine in drinks
• you have to call Billy a chicken to get him to take it
• Both make sad noises until they get what they want
Thomas Hewitt:
• he doesn't get sick often but when he does...oh boy
• this is Texas heat, if any Hewitt is sick you have to but them in the basement
• it's the coldest place in the house
• even then he's gonna have to take off his shirt
• wants chicken and human noodle soup
• he really wants to go up and eat with the family
• it REALLY upsets him that he can't
• please go down stairs and eat with him
Bubba Sawyer:
• tired and sad and doesn't know why
• you have to be the one to figure out he's sick
• he feels weak
• when Bubba gets sick he goes into a depression
• sad babbles as he trys to explain that he has to provide for the family
• he goes to bed when you sternly tell him to go
• you freeze a towel and give it to him
• again he's in Texas
• holding his hand and telling him he'll be better soon helps him trough it
• forehead kisses are ideal for a sick Bubba
Bo Sinclair:
• " Bo you're sick"
• " No I'm not!"
• " go to bed!"
• "No!"
• * almost vomits*
• " ......fine..."
Vincent Sinclair:
• he is one of the only normal ones
• He knows his body's limits and takes care of himself
• He's very grateful that you want to help him
• all he wants you to do is bring him food and cuddle up to him
Lester Sinclair:
• he is the definition of male sickness
• he could cut of his arm and he'll just duct tape it back on
• but as soon as he has a cold he's dying
• looks like a lowly peasant boy asking for bread
• you have to wash him, help him to the bathroom, feed him, all that jazz
• he is forever grateful that he has you
• feels bad that you have to do all that for him though
Billy Lenz:
• if he sneezes he begs you to call in sick at work to take care of him
• "you're fine Billy"
• " No no no no Y/N my tummy hurts."
• " You ate 3 crayons"
Brahms Heelshire:
• cries
• begs for his mom
• He tackles you into cuddling
• he wants grilled cheese and tomato soup
• will fight you if you try and give him medicine
• just put it in the soup and he won't know
Hannibal Lecter:
• he refuses to let you take care of him
• "you'll end up getting sick too."
• Quarantine time
• he does everything himself
• appreciates that you want to help
• lays in bed and reads books
• will give YOU medicine so YOU do t get sick
Thanks for reading <3
You can soooo tell I wrote this two years ago. (P.S. That's why there isn't anything for Will Graham or The Lost Boys.)
#slashers#slashers x reader#hannibal x reader#nbc hannibal#michael myers x reader#micheal myers#billy loomis#stu macher#billy loomis x stu macher x reader#thomas hewitt#bubba sawyer#brahms heelshire#billy lenz#bo sinclair#vincent sinclair#lester sinclair#x reader#fluff#sickfic#reader#fanfic
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BABY, I CARE FOR YOU.
➞ pair: yoongi x f reader
➞ genre: sickfic, best friends to potential lovers (who knows?), fluffy fluff, yoongi being the best bff you could ever ask for, I miss him so much.
➞ synopsis: where the reader is sick and her bff is always there for the rescue.
➞ warnings: none.
➞ A/N: another request by @parkjennykim, who used 'she/her' pronouns in the req so I used those accordingly. This was fun to write. I hope you enjoy it :)
PS. readers, remember my reqs are still open for now. you can go ahead and send some (read pinned post if u haven't yet, tho).
★ MASTERLIST.
ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑
the bag you've been carrying all day slipped off of your shoulder as soon as you pushed the door to your apartment open and stepped in. not bothering to pick it up, you remove your shoes and leave them somewhere near the entrance and take a deep breath through the nose.
your body was having a party that day. muscles and head aching like crazy, throat bleeding as it burned with a ticklish feeling that lingered for hours and bringing out coughing fits from your chest every few minutes, legs barely holding you up and an annoyingly runny nose, you're sure the skin around it is red and raw from how you've been rubbing at it with tissues all day. not to forget the fact that you were freezing to death even though the heaters were doing their work in the flat more than enough.
“Mom is finally home!” A loud squeal came rushing from down the hall. You raised your head with some difficulty to see your best friend approaching you with your cat, Leo, in his arms and a wide smile adorning his face. He stopped in his tracks and frowned, however, as soon as he noticed your scowling expression and bloodshot eyes.
“Woah, you look so not happy right now.” he commented.
“What are you doing here, Yoongi?” Though your expression softened as you spoke, your voice still held a wince the more uncomfortable the light bulb became to your squinted eyes.
“You didn’t answer my calls or even texts, so I just decided to come over myself.” he explained, then eyed you up with knitted brows and a barely noticeable pout on his cherry red lips, “are you okay?”
“My head and body are killing me. I’m going to sleep. You can stay as much as you like, just feed Leo before you leave, plea-." A couple of sneezes cut your sentence off. The action stabbed daggers into your already throbbing brain; so painful that your eyes teared up and you squeezed your hands around your skull to try and control the waves of shock that hit you all of a sudden.
“Wait,” Yoongi put Leo on the floor and walked towards you. the back of his hand felt like a soft, warm blanket wrapped up around your body on a cold, snowy night as it rested on your forehead, so you closed your eyes and hummed in satisfaction.
“You’re so hot.” he grimaced at the heat that bit his skin, and when he noticed how you smirked mischievously with your eyes still closed shut, he whined, “don’t!”
“I’m not doing anything!” Your tongue felt numb as you blinked your eyes open and smiled at him.
“Come, you need to take a warm bath and eat something.” his fingers gently wrapped around your wrist, slowly pulling towards the bathroom.
"Your hands are always warm. I like that a lot." you whispered, absent-mindedly eying the way he was soothingly caressing the skin under his thumb.
“Are you going to bathe me?” his cheeks warmed up at the question you blurted so suddenly, but the way you were slurring your words implied that none of the things you were rambling about were intentional. the fever really took its toll on your brain.
“Go do your thing, and I'm going to make you something warm to eat.” he bit his lower lip and pointed towards the bathroom, leaving to start doing his task in the kitchen.
"The walls are spinning around me!" You whimpered as soon as you entered your room, wet hair wrapped up in a towel, a fluffy, warm hoodie swallowing your torso and a pair of sweatpants. Yoongi, who was sitting on your bed, immediately fixed his gaze on you with a small smile. you could spot your favorite pair of socks laying beside him on the bed sheets, and your heart skipped a beat or two at how thoughtful that small gesture alone was.
"I'm sorry. let me just blow dry your hair, and then you can eat." he apologized, pointing at the hair dryer he'd been holding in his hand and patting the empty spot next to him.
"You're spoiling me today." You complained, but still obediently sat besides your sweet friend.
"You're sick, I'm taking care of you." he replied matter-of-factly.
you murmured a small 'thank you' before he gently started taking the wet towel off your head, then started carefully drying your hair.
When you stepped into the kitchen, you found Yoongi setting plates, along with utensils on the small table located by the wall. his eyes landed on you as soon as your painful-sounding coughs announced your arrival.
“Feeling any better?” his brows rose worriedly, and his gaze followed your hunched up body as it walked and took a seat.
“kind of. thanks for the food.” You offered a genuine smile despite all the tiredness washing over your limbs. he nodded knowingly.
“Here, take these when you finish eating.” He put a tablet right next to your bowl and sat across from you, digging into his own plate as well.
After a while, you decided to break the comfortable silence when your eyes fell upon the clock hanging just above the door frame, “You have work tomorrow, and it’s getting late. you should probably go.”
“I know you’re a jackass and you’d sleep on an empty stomach if you wanted to, even when you’re sick.” he muttered so casually it almost made you giggle if it weren't for the guilt of forcing him to stay taking over your mind.
“That’s not right!” You started to argue but hissed when your head reminded you that it still got a tornado going on inside of it as it throbbed even harder.
“Stop talking and eat!” he scolded, and you wordlessly complied.
"I'm not leaving until you're tucked into bed and fast asleep," he added in a stern tone after a small pause, making you grin weakly and stuff your face with another spoonful of soup.
"Are you feeling any better?" Once again, yoongi asked after pulling the duvet over your chin. he chose to sit right by your side, on the floor and with his back facing you.
you replied with a muffled hum, barely audible as you were busy gratefully enjoying the softness of your comforter with closed eyes. it felt as though it had some kind of magic that absorbed all the aching tension in your body, allowing you to finally heave a sigh in relief after such a long, tiring day.
"Where's Leo?" you asked.
"probably napping somewhere after his meal."
"You fed him?"
"Of course I did. I'm not like you, forgetting my cat as soon as I get sick." he smirked teasingly.
"I didn't! I knew you were gonna stay, and I trusted you, like I always do." Your voice was only getting weaker and weaker, sleepy as you fought a battle against sleep just to answer your cheeky best friend.
Yoongi only smiled, glancing at you with tinted cheeks. he allowed his gaze to linger just a tad bit more on your closed eyes, nose poking out above the fuzzy blanket and shoulders ever so faintly shivering as the fever still clung onto you. he found the sight so endearing, he chuckled quietly and sighed, "Good to know you do."
"'m so 'ired." You slurred.
"Sleep, darling. I'm right here." was the last thing you heard him say ever so gently before surrendering your powers and drifting into a deep slumber.
Yoongi kept observing as you slept for a while before standing up. He bent down to press one soft kiss on your cheek and another one on your forehead, then walked out of the room with extra efforts not to make any noise and disturb your peaceful night when it had just started.
"Mom is sleeping. Let's hang out in the living room, hmm?" He picked up the fluffy cat that came running towards him as soon as he saw the door opening and kissed his head. heading towards the living room with a small smile on his face.
#yoongi#yoongi scenarios#yoongi drabble#yoongi fluff#yoongi x reader#bts scenarios#bts yoongi#bts#bts imagines#bts fic#sickfic#friends to lovers#maybe not#hahaha#who knows#suga fluff#bts fluff#fluff
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i'll always look after you (alessia russo x reader sickfic)
you're sick, and your girlfriend takes care of you.
A/N: warning for nudity (nonsexual!). this is so sappy and fluffy, and now i have major bath envy and wish my place had a bath so my girlfriend and i could have one together. based off of this request, i hope you like it!
You knew as soon as you woke up that you were getting sick. Your head felt weird, your hands were clammy, and everything hurt a bit. Rolling over, you turned off the alarm on your phone. All you wanted to do was curl up and go back to sleep, but there was no way you were missing training just because of a cold. You laid there for another minute, enjoying the warmth of your bed, before sighing and getting up. Anyway, you thought to yourself as you got ready to head out, you’d probably feel better once you were outside in the fresh air.
It didn’t take long for you to decide that you did not feel better in the fresh air. You were a couple hours into training, and your head pounded with every step you took. Your girlfriend watched you anxiously.
“Are you sure you’re okay, babe?” she asked, arms crossed, worry clear on her face.
“Yeah, Lessi, I’m fine,” you insisted, sweat beading down your forehead. “just a bit tired, that’s all.”
She wasn’t fooled. For the rest of the morning, she followed you around, keeping a close eye on you. By lunch even you had to admit that you felt awful, and there was no way you could keep training. You left early and collapsed into bed as soon as you got home.
You awoke a few hours later to the sound of keys in the front door. “Lessi?” you called out, voice hoarse. The two of you weren’t living together yet, but you spent so much time at each other’s places that you both had keys for the other’s house, just to make things easier.
“Baby, hi!” you could hear clattering and a soft thump, before your girlfriend’s face appeared through your bedroom door. “How are you feeling?”
“Sick,” you whined. “m’ head hurts and my throat is really dry.”
“Oh, darling,” she said, caressing your hair gently and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “hold on, I’ll get you a drink.” She reappeared a few minutes later carrying a mug and a glass of water. “Here, some tea, just the way you like it, and some cold water too, just in case. Oh, and I brought you some paracetamol!”
“Thank you, baby,” you said, moving over onto your side of the bed from the middle, where you had cocooned yourself in the duvet. “can we cuddle?”
“Can you take some medicine for me first?” she asked, holding out the paracetamol and the glass of water.
“Ugh, fine,” you said begrudgingly, wriggling out of your cocoon to take the medicine and a sip of water. “okay, now can we cuddle?”
She smiled at you, climbing into bed. “Of course, darling.”
You sighed contentedly as she spooned you, holding you close and keeping you warm. She drew shapes on your arm with a finger, pressing soft kisses on the back of your head, and it wasn’t long before you fell asleep again. Once your breathing changed and she could tell that you were fast asleep, Alessia slowly moved out from under the duvet, careful not to disturb you.
Going into the kitchen, she rummaged through the shopping bag that she’d dropped earlier. She pulled out some vegetables, put on some quiet music, and started peeling the veggies.
This time, you woke up to a delicious smell wafting through your apartment. Alessia was sat on the bed next to you, scrolling through her phone. She looked down when you rolled over, and smiled brightly at you.
“Hi baby,” she said gently, smiling at the way you cuddled into her side.
“Hi,” you replied, rubbing your eyes. “how long was I asleep for? And what’s that smell? It smells so good.”
She blushed lightly. “Oh, I made some soup for you. And you’ve only been asleep for about an hour, don’t worry.”
“You made me soup?” you asked, sitting up to look at her properly. “You made it? For me?”
“Yeah,” she said, chuckling. “who else would I have made it for?”
“No one has ever made me soup before,” you said, smiling in adoration. “I can’t believe you made soup for me.”
“Would you like to try some?” she asked, a smile on her face.
“Yes!”
“Wait here, I’ll get you a bowl.”
“No, I’ll get up,” you insisted. You hated spending so much time just lying in bed, it made you feel restless. And you felt better now anyway. Kind of. You stood up, the duvet still wrapped around you, and swayed in place. Okay, so maybe you didn’t feel better. “Woah.” you said, falling back onto the bed with a soft thump.
Alessia frowned, her face lined with worry. “No, baby, you stay here. I’ll get it for you.”
She came back a minute later with a bowl of fresh tomato soup, steam rising from it. “I hope it tastes okay, I haven’t really made soup before. There’s lots of veggies in it, to help your body get healthy again, but I blended them up so you wouldn’t have to deal with any chunks, in case your throat hurts.”
You took the bowl from her and took a sip. “Oh babe, this is so good,” you said, and she smiled with relief. “I think this is the best soup I’ve ever tasted,” you told her, and suddenly you realised you were crying.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” she asked, alarmed, taking the bowl from you. “Does something hurt? Was the soup too hot? Did you burn yourself?”
“No, I just-” you sniffled, grabbing a tissue and wiping your nose. “no one has ever made me soup before, and you did, and it’s so good, and I can’t believe you made it for me, and I just love you so much, and-”
“Oh, baby,” she cooed, cupping your face and wiping away your tears with her thumbs. “I love you.”
You nodded, sniffing. “Thank you for making me soup,” you said, taking the bowl back from her. “it’s really really good.”
“I’m glad,” she said, stroking your hair. “I have to say, no one has ever cried because of my cooking before. At least, not in a good way.”
You laughed, finishing the rest of your bowl. “Can I have some more, please?”
After you finished your second bowl of soup, Alessia grabbed your laptop and got back into bed with you, putting a tv show on for you both to watch. Your head was still pounding, and your limbs felt all sensitive and painful, but the warmth from her body against yours was helping. After the second episode finished, you realised just how sweaty and gross you felt from being in pyjamas for most of the day. Plus, you really needed to wash your hair.
“Baby?” you asked, and your girlfriend’s hand stilled on your leg, where it has been absent-mindedly playing with the drawstring from your pyjama bottoms. “Can you help me shower and wash my hair?”
“Of course, darling. We could even have a bath if you want?” she suggested, and you smiled.
“Ooh, a bath would be nice.”
She nodded, getting up to start the bath. You listened to the gentle splashing of the water, and after a couple minutes she came back into the bedroom. “I’ve put that bath stuff in, the one that you like.”
“Thank you, baby,” you said, standing up. This time you managed to stay up, although she did have to steady you with a hand on your waist, and you leant against her, breathing in her scent, a combination of her favourite perfume and the smell of the bath foam. Once in the bathroom she helped you undress, before undressing herself and joining you in the warm water. You sighed happily as she sat behind you, pulling you in to lean against her front.
“You want me to wash your hair now, or sit like this for a bit first?” she asked.
“Mm, sit like this for a bit first,” you said, enjoying the feeling of the warm water against your skin and the gentle rise and fall of her chest against your back. “How was the rest of training?”
“Fine,” she said, hands trailing up and down your sides and your arms under the water. “I was worried about you. Kept getting distracted,” she murmured into your ear.
“What are you like,” you said, smiling. “I was okay, no need to worry about me.”
“I like you,” she hummed. “want me to wash your hair now?”
“Yes please,” you said with a sigh. “otherwise I’m going to fall asleep.”
She took the shower head and put one hand against your forehead. “Let me know if it’s too hot or too cold?” she asked, switching it on. Her hand stopped any water from trickling down your face and into your eyes, and you relaxed against the steady stream of the shower.
You let out a moan as she massaged shampoo into your scalp, her fingers putting pressure on all the right spots. “That feels so nice,” you said, letting out another moan as she got a particularly tight spot at the base of your scalp.
“Moaning for me already, baby?” she asked, and you could hear the smirk in her voice. You rolled your eyes and slapped her arm lightly, and you felt her laugh against you. “I’m going to rinse the shampoo out now, okay?”
Her gentle hands combed through your hair as she rinsed away any suds. After your bath, she dried you off using a big fluffy towel that she’d put on the radiator. Once the two of you were in bed again, she brushed your hair gently, taking care not to pull too hard.
“How are you feeling now, my love?” she asked, making you blush. You loved it when she called you that.
“Still sick, my head hurts, and my throat is starting to hurt too,” you said, and turned to look at her with a cheesy grin. “but I feel all warm and clean and happy, thanks to you. Thank you for looking after me.”
Alessia smiled, cheeks red. “Of course, I’ll always look after you,” she said, kissing you softly. “I love you, y/n.”
“I love you too, Lessi.”
#alessia russo#woso#woso fanfics#woso imagine#woso x reader#alessia russo fluff#sickfic#alessia russo imagine#alessia russo x reader#alessia russo fanfic#fluff#woso fluff#hannah writes fics
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ꜱᴜɴᴅᴀʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ꜱɪᴄᴋ! ꜱ/ᴏ
pairings - sunday x sick !reader
content - reader is sick and sunday spends his day taking care of you / fluff / comfort / sickfic / a lil bonus scene :)
warnings - none
⋘ ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ... ⋙
↻ It wasn’t often that you would get sick, but if you found yourself starting to exhibit symptoms of the flu then Sunday would clear his schedule to ensure he had the day off
↺ If he wasn’t able to completely clear his schedule, then he’d do his best to call and check on you, having another family member or worker tending to your needs
↻ I can see him as being a mother hen when you’re sick, always checking in on you and getting everything you needed
↺ He’ll make sure you always have tissues and a rubbish can near you, an ice pack or heating pad, a glass of water or tea, etc…
↻ If there isn’t already medicine on hand, he’d personally send someone to get one or get it himself
↺ Getting it himself would be the last resort as he would like to be by you 24/7, in case anything were to happen then he’d be right there
↻ Sunday would take over any chores that you normally did, cleaning and disinfecting around the place while you slept
↺ If you had to work that day, he’d call in for you so that you could have a couple days of rest
↻ He’d make sure that you would eat something that would be light on your stomach
↺ Meals consisting of different soups and a couple of diced fruits, refilling your water here and there (he’s kind of your personal maid at this point)
↻ If you need help taking a shower, he would assist you, washing your hair and massaging your scalp gently or scrubbing your back
↺ Sunday would find you especially cute when he’s drying your hair, you just look so soft
↻ Although he would try his best to try and not get sick, a couple kisses (mainly on your forehead or hands) couldn’t hurt..could they..?
↺ He probably would get sick by the time you are feeling much better, and as disappointed as he is that he has to miss out on work while burdening you with his sickness, he would be so grateful that you’re willing to take care of him
↺ Sunday would insist that he could do things on his own but you’d help him anyway, eventually he just accepts his fate
↻ Sunday would make sure that the room is comfortable for you, as in the lighting from outside isn’t too bright or it isn’t too hot or cold in there (just in case you were sensitive to sounds and light)
↺ Personally, headaches where light and noise make it worse are something I HATE
↻ If you need help falling asleep, he’d hum a lullaby (could be one of his sister’s songs or something from his childhood) or talk to you about anything (lulling you to sleep with his voice)
↺ Once you are asleep, he’d place a soft kiss on your forehead while holding your hand, tucking you in, and remaining by your side for the rest of your sleep
-----
The city noises were muffled, the lights from outside leaving the room dimly lit through the curtains. The temperature of the room was neither too hot nor too cold. Sunday had ensured the room was to your comfort, not wanting to worsen any headaches you may be experiencing.
Under thick comforters, you laid restlessly. As much as it was important to rest, you just couldn’t find a comfortable position. A knock at the door interrupted your struggles.
“Darling? Are you alright?” Sunday opened the door slightly, allowing the light from the hallway to seep in.
Fidgeting in your shared bed, you shook your head no, trying to refrain from straining your sore throat.
“Hm… You can’t sleep?” A nod of your head confirmed his suspicions.
He walked into the room, shutting the door behind him, and taking a seat near your spot on the bed. “Is there anything that I can do to help you?” Sunday hummed in thought, moving a strand of hair away from your heated forehead. You nodded again.
“...Do you want to hear a story?” In different circumstances, you would’ve chuckled at his suggestion, but you wouldn’t mind him telling one if it meant hearing him speak. Nodding with a small smile, you made yourself comfortable.
Sunday looked down at your hand, caressing your palm deep in thought. His wings slightly perked up once he found something to share, looking back up at you.
“During my childhood…”
For the rest of the night, Sunday would recall fond memories of his childhood, some that you’ve heard before and others that were new to you. Nevertheless, hearing his voice calmly recount stories had lulled you to sleep, your grip on his hand growing lax. Sunday noticed you had fallen asleep and his stories slowly came to a stop.
Smiling adoringly at your relaxed figure, he pulled the comforters up a little higher and gave a small kiss on your forehead.
“Goodnight darling, I will be here by your side until you wake. Sweet dreams.”
-----
↻ Once you wake up from your slumber, Sunday would be resting his head on your stomach, wings fluttering every couple of minutes
↻ Eventually, you would fall back asleep, hand resting on his head after running them through his messy strands
↻ Needless to say, with Sunday as your personal caretaker, you would be better in no time
⋘ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ! ⋙
note - thank you guys for reading! i am so so happy you all are enjoying the work i put out. currently, i am working on a request so stay tuned, not gonna spoil the content! ;)
#writing➠#hsr sunday x reader#sunday x reader#hsr#honkai star rail#hsr x reader#honkai star rail x reader#fluff#sickfic#comfort fic#i really love birds and used to have budgies so i like adding some of their characteristics to sunday lol
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Caretaker
Pairing: Azriel x reader
Summary: Reader is sick & Az being the best bf ever
Warnings: slight suggestiveness, tooth rotting fluff
A/N: Literally wrote this when I was sick asf and high on cough medicine so I hope this makes sense 😭😭
2.2k words
My body tremors as another weak cough racks through me, my throat pulsing at the feeling. Watery eyes form tears, sliding down the bridge of my nose and dripping onto the plush pillow beneath my head.
I stare out the floor to ceiling window, marveling at the way the sidra morphs starlight into rainbow refractions. I sniffle, one of my nostrils completely closed off and making it a challenge to breathe. It was late. I didn't know the exact time but from the moons position in the sky I could guess it was far past midnight.
My mate hadn't come to bed and I debated clambering out of this all too hot bed to go and find him, wrap my arms around his waist and guide him back to our bed. But I can't expose him to whatever virus plagued me, in turn getting him sick, no matter how badly I missed his touch. It was already a risk to share the same bed, I couldn't push it.
Madja stopped by earlier and gave me a tonic to help ward off the cough but there was nothing she could do beyond that. I took the tonic minutes ago, the effects still settling in, I just hoped the cough would cease long enough for me to be able to fall asleep.
It's been days, my mate was convinced I was getting worse. He surveyed me like usual, but his gaze turned soft and pitiful every time a raucous cough came over me. Shadows kept me company, swirling fluidly against my back in a reassuring manner, the chill touch of them making me cool off from my heated state.
There was a soft knock at the door and I didn't have to look to know who it was. I adjusted under the covers, using my strength to sit up and lean against the headboard, teary eyed but making eye contact with the large winged male in the doorway. "Az." My voice was practically a whimper, a feeble excuse at calling for him.
"My love," He drew a long exhale, my sickness seemingly weighing on him as well.
"You can't be in here." I murmur, wiping my tears and wishing it was his hands instead of mine doing the act.
"I miss you." He offers me a soft smile as he tilts his head against the frame of the door, his silhouette from the hallway light made him look like some sort of angel.
"I don't want to get you sick." I shake my head, holding my arm out as if to shield him away but we both knew I held no power at the moment.
"It wouldn't be so bad," He tries to lighten the mood with a shrug. "I'd be off work, we could quarantine together. We'd read and cuddle and I could actually go within a ten feet radius of you." His words were convincing, and the idea has a smile tugging at my lips. That is until a croak of a cough rattles my body and I remember how irritating this illness is. I wouldn't want him to have this, ten foot radius or not.
"It's hard enough to stay away from you, don't tempt me." I sigh, allowing my bones to sink into the large matress.
"Worth a try." He mirrors my smile. "Do you need anything? Tea or soup?" He asks and I twist my lips to the side as I ponder what he could give me that would ever amount to how badly I want him and him alone. "A good book perhaps?" He arches a perfect brow. It pains me how well he knows me.
"A book would be nice." I hum and he pushes from the doorway, excited to accomplish a new task. His gaze lingers on me before he closes the door and his silent footsteps recede down the hall.
I look back out the window while I wait, fiddling with the mating ring around my fourth finger. My cough seemed to have settled, I'll have to tell my brother to increase Madja's salary for her admirable work — or maybe I'd pay her directly myself. As soon as I'm better I will, whenever that might be. I release a long sigh and allow my eyes to shut for a moment, I must've slept for half the day earlier but that didn't stop the rest from weighing at my heavy lids.
Before I dared slip into a sleep the spymaster opened the door with a multitude of items in his hands. I couldn't help but smile. The night courts intimidating Shadowsinger was at my door, with soup and tea and a book, taking care of me. He had one of the world's deadliest knife's at his thigh and he probably used it to cut open my tea bag.
"Az, I'm gonna cry." I warn. My already watery eyes verging on tears as I think about how much he does for me.
"No don't cry." His brows crease as he sits on his side of our bed, placing a bowl of soup down on my nightstand. "I tried to follow your mom's recipe but it won't be as good." He frowns and there's nothing more I want to do then kiss the pout off his perfect face. "And this is hot, so don't drink it for a few minutes." He places a steaming cup of tea beside the soup. "And this," He holds up a worn paper back book. "I went to Nesta and asked her for the best romance novel she could think of and she gave me this so." He places it on my lap. "Hopefully it's as smutty as you hope." He mutters beneath his breath and I flush hot but blamed it on my fever.
"Thank you." My voice was a rasp, he looked to my eyes. Hazel laced with love and admiration, the emotions reflecting on the golds and greens of his irises.
"Get some rest after eating, you have to get your strength up so I can get my sparring buddy back." He placed a hand on my forehead to check my temperature, something on his expression falls when he doesn't notice any difference from the last time he checked my temperature.
"Is Cassian not good enough anymore?" I scoff.
"He's not you." He huffs and an upside down smile spreads over my expression.
"I know you're sick but I really want to kiss you." He admits and just the idea makes me feel warmer inside. I grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him into me, his upper half hovering over me as I plant my lips onto his. I grin against the sensation, it's only been a few days but gods, how did I forget how perfect it felt to have his mouth against mine?
He pulls back first and I debate chasing him back but he pecks my forehead and I settle for it, leaning back onto my headboard yet again. "I'm going to finish up an assignment then I'll come to bed, okay?" He gets up from the bed and my eyes follow.
"Mhm." I nod tiredly.
"If I find you reading that book when I get back I'm taking it away." He warns and I bite my bottom lip mischievously.
"Goodnight lovely." A shadow tucks a strand of hair behind my ear as I watch him make his way to the door.
"Night Az." I muse in reply, already reaching for my bowl of the nostalgic meal.
—
About an hour later I had finished my entire bowl of soup and cup of tea. Both of them reminding me of my mother humming her favorite songs as she sewed her dresses, of Rhys teaching me how to fly before I could even walk, of Cassian brawling with my brother when he first moved in, and of Azriel's warm embrace.
I was curled into a ball with a mage light over my head, flipping through the pages of the romance novel Nesta lent me. It was a fantasy with just the right amount of erotica, the kind that would make any female flush. There were a few times when I'd have to close the book and take a breather before opening it back up, which meant it was perfection.
The door opened with a creak and I slammed the book shut the way a teenage boy might with a nude magazine. Azriel crinkles his brows at me and I look at him guiltlessly. "Evening handsome." I greet and he blinks at me like I'm crazy.
"Why are you being weird?" He utters, coming further into the room and closing the door behind him. I fold my lips inward to keep myself from laughing or possibly exposing that I was reading absolute filth just moments ago.
"Just reading." I shrug innocently and he narrowed his gaze in on me but seemed to let it go when striding over to the armoire to change. I watched him shamelessly as he stripped off his shirt, golden tan skin inked in swirling black. He shuffles through the drawers, giving me a full show of his muscular back and those large wings. My breath hitched as I stare without caution and a small chuckle sounds from him. He knows I'm watching, and at this point I can't find it in myself to care.
"Are you flexing on purpose?" I ask him as he discards his leathers for a pair of lounge pants.
"I'm not flexing love." He confesses and my stomach does backflips. Cords of muscle rippled from his shoulders down to his bulging arms, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't at least a little turned on. And he was just standing there. He turns to look at my tinged cheeks and it only makes me blush more. The eye contact just might kill me. The nonchalance and causality of it made my stomach churn, as if he wasn't standing there in front of me shirtless.
"You're teasing." I set my book on the nightstand and sink down into my pillows.
"How so?" His question is half a laugh because he knows what he's doing.
"I can't have you right now." I whine like some sort of child, pulling the blankets up and over my head so I don't have to look at his chest that seemed to be sculpted by the gods themselves. The bed sinks and I know he's now beside me. I can't help but gravitate towards him only to stop myself because I know cuddling would get him sick.
His strong arm wraps around my waist and pulls my back to his chest.
"No, Az I don't want to get you sick." I protest, pulling away with the weakest strength since the predicament at hand wasn't all too bad.
"I already told you I don't care if I get sick." He brings me in closer and who was I to deny my mate's embrace?
It was nice to lay beside him, nice to have his warmth radiating onto me. I missed him even if it's only been a few days, even if he still sleeps beside me every night. I missed the physicality of it. Azriel's never been one for touch but sometimes I go through phases where if I don't have my hands constantly on him I'd collapse.
So I allowed myself to lean into his chest, matching my breathing to his and intertwining my hand with his scarred one. "I love you." He hums into my shoulder, placing gentle kisses to the crook of my neck and a soft smile spreads across my lips.
"Would you still love me if—" I begin but he doesn't let me finish,
"Yes." His tone is confident and didn't waver for a beat.
"You don't even know what I was going to say." I pout and I feel him shake his head against me.
"As long as you're still you, I love you." He professes and I flip around to look at his golden eyes that the stars themselves were outmatched against.
"I love you too." My voice is a mere whisper but a wide grin takes over his face, revealing his dimples. His smile was so bright I thought for a moment that sun wouldn't rise in fear of rivaling it. "And I'm totally getting you sick." I threaten but he doesn't seem to mind, especially not when I lean forward a few inches in order to kiss that grin.
"Sleep, love." He coerced and pulls me into his chest, his wing draping over me like a blanket, blocking out any seeping light from the moon outside. "I'll be here in the morning." He muses, smoothing a scarred hand over my hair. He continues to play with the strands until I'm drifting off into that touch, his warmth inviting me to sleep.
Azriel was quick to follow, once he noticed my breathing even out. Shadows settle around us as his lids grow heavy and his weight falls into the bed. With me in his arms it was easier for him to sleep, the comfort of knowing I'm safe while in his hold pushed him further into that sweet relief of rest.
#azriel#sarah j maas#acotar#azriel x reader#azriel x you#x reader#acomaf#fanfic#comfort fic#sickfic#im so lonely#i need him#suriels tea
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I just found your blog but I love your fics omg. I don’t know if you’ve received a request like this, so forgive me if you have. But do you think you could do a sickfic with the reader taking care of Miles?
i havent gotten this req yet, tysm for requesting!
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wc: 1k
Pairing: Earth-42! Miles Morales x f! reader (could possibly be read for 1610! Miles as well)
Summary: Miles has been acting off, so you decide to pay him a visit.
Warnings: established relationship, sick fic, cursing, fluff
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Staring at your phone's messages, you awaited a response from Miles. But he hasn't been responding to you all afternoon. He never does that. So, it's only natural that this raised suspicion within you.
Miles made the mistake of granting you a spare key to his dorm a while ago. Since you lived on the same campus, you decided to pay him a little visit. It's not like this was the first time you've shown up unannounced, anyway.
Walking down the hallways of your school, you successfully found his dorm. You knocked on his door, "Miles, it's me. I'm coming in." Putting in the key to his door, you unlocked it. Miles was seemingly unfazed as he stood in front of you. "Hola, princesa. ¿Qué tal?" (what’s up?) He said with nonchalance.
But there were a couple of indications that made you realize what his deal was. For one, he didn't greet you with a kiss. Matter of fact, he was standing a few feet further from you than usual. Even before you started dating, Miles would always leave a small kiss on your forehead or temple. And secondly, there were dark circles on his under-eyes that don't usually adorn his face. He was still indubitably charming, however. There was no denying that.
You raised an accusatory eyebrow at him, and he immediately knew you saw straight through him. "You're sick. Aren't you, Miles?"
He almost rolled his eyes at how well you could read him. "I'm fine. It's nothin', ma." He shrugged, but his voice was laced with a subtle rasp. Still enough for you to pick up on, however.
"C'mon, even big tough douches get sick sometimes." You hit him lightly on the chest and grinned at him. Entering his dorm, you asked him, "Have you even eaten anything?" He brushed off your question. Instead, he said,
"You're lookin' pretty-" trying to change the subject, but you cut him off. "Good try, Miles. Wait here, I'll be back!" You promptly ran out the door, Miles stood there dumbfounded.
Within less than ten minutes, you returned to his dorm as promised. With a whole bundle of supplies. "Alright babe, sit." You grabbed him by his arm and sat him on his bed. "Estoy bien, mami. Really. You don't gotta do all this." He told you. But you didn't buy it. Holding up the back of your hand to his forehead, you winced. "Miles, you're burning hot. Temperature-wise." You winked at him.
Unpacking all the supplies you brought, you gave him medicine to take. "This stuff is magic, it'll help you feel better in no time." You said as you handed him the bottle. Glancing at the bottle in skepticism, he told you, “I ain't that sick.” His voice came out atypically groggy.
Much to his dismay, you whipped out a thermometer and put it in his mouth. He didn't even see where it came from. Within a few seconds, it read an unusually high temperature. As you suspected. Putting your hands on your hips, you told him, "Miles. You’re 101 degrees. Take the damn medicine or else I'll feed it to you."
Miles always put on a front. A facade that he didn't need anyone, a 'tough guy' front. But you knew better.
He finally gave in and took the medicine, your eyes trailing to his adam's apple that bobbed as he downed it. Shaking off your wandering gaze, you handed him a bowl and told him, "I brought you some soup as well." Staring up at you, he accepted it. He looked at you with adoration in his eyes. As long as you were here with him, he'd look forward to waking up in the morning.
A few moments passed by and he said, “...Gracias, mami.” “Of course, Miles.” You replied, gently placing a kiss on his forehead. He backed away slightly and concernedly said, "You're going to get sick, ma."
"It'd be worth it." You carelessly grinned at him, and he was sure you could singlehandedly cure him with your smile.
The sun was already starting to set, so you decided to stay at his dorm for the night to make sure he was taking care of himself. Behind closed doors, there was no doubt in his mind that he'd stand outside in the cold rain for hours if it meant you'd stay here with him.
The next morning, you somehow ended up with his arms wrapped around your waist, your back snuggled against his torso. At least you attempted to keep a safe distance the night before. Can't say you didn't try. Stirring awake, you noticed Miles was already up.
But unbeknownst to you, he's been up longer than you'd think, silently listening to the soothing thump of your heart. Glancing up at him, he pressed his lips to your temple.
"¿Cómo te sientes?" (how do you feel?) He said, the rasp in his voice almost undetectable. You let out a small chuckle at the irony, "I feel like I should be asking you that." You replied. Waking up from your trance, you remembered that it was a school day. Looking for your phone, you asked him frantically,
"What time is it? We're going to be late for class, Miles." He shook off your fears, reassuring you. "Cálmate, princesa. We got time."
Letting out a sigh of relief, you relished in his embrace, not wanting to ruin this rare moment of quietude. Maybe you should've been more careful around him, but how could you when he was holding you like this?
It was almost a perfect way to wake up in the morning. You silently hoped you could stay like this a while longer with him. And little did you know that your wish would be granted. Just not in the way you initially hoped.
An abrupt sneeze interrupted the comfortable silence that fell between the two of you. You slapped your face with your hand. Groaning at how warm it felt, you exclaimed,
"Oh, fuck."
Needless to say, both of you were in this together. Whether you liked it or not.
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estoy bien - i'm good
cálmate - calm down
princesa - princess
gracias - thank you
#earth 42 miles morales x reader#miles morales x reader#across the spiderverse#into the spider verse#miles morales spider man#miles morales x y/n#miles morales x you#spider man#friends to lovers#prowler miles#prowler!miles x reader#miles morales prowler#atsv prowler#prowler miles morales#miles morales#sickfic#spiderman across the spiderverse#spiderman into the spiderverse#x reader#earth 42#established relationship#spiderman
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Spider-Girl gets heatstroke ft Wanda Maximoff and Natasha Romanoff
The sun bore down mercilessly on the city, amplifying the already stifling heat. Y/N Parker, also known as Spider-Girl, swung through the crowded urban landscape, her agile form navigating effortlessly between towering buildings. The snug superhero suit clung to her like a second skin, offering little reprieve from the oppressive warmth.
Wanda Maximoff, the Scarlet Witch, and Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, followed closely behind. The three made an unlikely but formidable team, each contributing their unique skills to the cause. Today's mission had brought them into the heart of the city, where the scorching heat seemed to amplify with every passing minute.
As they reached the rooftop where their target was supposed to be, Y/N's movements started to slow. The heat had become an almost tangible force, sapping her strength and leaving her feeling sluggish. Wanda exchanged a concerned look with Natasha, both recognizing the toll the weather was taking on their youngest teammate. Natasha was the first to say something about it over the comms.
Natasha - Kiddo, we need to take a break. It's too hot up here.
Y/N hesitated, her hand gripping the edge of the building for support.
Y/N - I'm fine!
Insisted the adolescent as her voice strained.
Wanda moved closer, placing a hand on Y/N's shoulder.
Wanda - You need to take care of yourself. This heat is dangerous. *frowns*
But Y/N, ever the stubborn teenager, shook her head.
Y/N - I can handle it. Let's finish this.
Natasha sighed, sharing a worried glance with Wanda. They pressed on, but it wasn't long before Y/N's movements became more laboured. Sweat dripped down her forehead, and her breaths were audible over the comms.
Wanda - We need to get her out of here.
The Scarlet Witch urged, her concern deepening.
Natasha grabbed Y/N's arm.
Natasha - Come on, baby. We're calling it a day.
Y/N resisted.
Y/N - No, I can't let them—
Wanda cut in, her voice firm.
Wanda - Your health is more important. The mission can wait.
Reluctantly, Y/N allowed herself to be guided away from the edge of the building. The trio found a shaded spot, but Y/N was insistent on finishing the mission even if she was already swaying slightly.
Y/N - I just need a moment...
Natasha - You need more than a moment. You need water and rest. *crosses her arms*
Y/N's stubbornness flared, and she pushed herself up.
Y/N - I can't let them get away. I can—
Her words were slurred, and her vision blurred. The next thing she knew, she was on her knees, the world spinning around her. Wanda and Natasha exchanged alarmed glances.
Wanda - Y/N!
Wanda cried out, rushing to her side.
Natasha activated her comm.
Natasha - We need an evac. Now.
Y/N tried to push herself up, but her limbs felt like lead. The last thing she heard before darkness claimed her was Wanda's worried voice calling her name.
______________________________________________________________
When Y/N opened her eyes, the world was a blur of white. She blinked, trying to make sense of her surroundings. The low hum of the quinjet's engines filled the air. She was lying on one of the benches, and her suit had been partially removed.
Y/N - Wanda? Natasha?
She croaked.
The two women appeared at her side, relief was evident in their eyes.
Natasha - You fainted detka, heatstroke.
Explained the Black Widow, her voice a mix of sternness and concern.
Y/N groaned, remembering the mission.
Y/N - Did we catch them?
Wanda smiled gently, brushing a strand of hair from Y/N's face.
Wanda - Yes, we did. But you scared us. You need to take better care of yourself, honey.
Y/N mumbled an apology, attempting to sit up. Natasha pressed her back down as she spoke firmly about their order.
Natasha - Rest, we'll be back at headquarters soon.
Wanda held a bottle of water to Y/N's lips, urging her to drink. The cool liquid was a balm for her parched throat. As Y/N sipped the water, Natasha began removing the rest of her suit to help her cool down.
Y/N - I can do that myself.
Protested the youngest weakly.
Wanda - You're in no condition to argue, my dear. *chuckles*
They worked efficiently, and the atmosphere was a mix of professionalism and genuine concern. Y/N couldn't help but feel grateful for the two women who had become her teammates and, in many ways, her surrogate family and mothers, in their own way.
Once out of the stifling suit, Y/N felt a wave of relief. The cool air of the quinjet was a welcome contrast to the oppressive heat outside. Wanda conjured a soft breeze, further easing Y/N's discomfort.
Natasha - You scared us back there, sweetheart.
Natasha admitted, her eyes intense.
Y/N - I'm sorry. I just wanted to finish the mission. *sighs*
Wanda placed a hand on Y/N's shoulder.
Wanda - There will always be another mission. But you only have one health and body for us to kiss, hug and give tickles. Don't jeopardize it for the sake of a mission. *tickles Y/N*
Y/N - Stopp- *giggling*
Natasha - Let her rest Wanda. It's okay lovebug *kisses forehead*
They lapsed into a comfortable silence, the hum of the quinjet providing a backdrop to their thoughts. Y/N closed her eyes, allowing herself to rest, knowing that she was in capable hands.
As the quinjet touched down at headquarters, Natasha and Wanda helped Y/N to her feet. She felt a little unsteady, but the support from her motherly teammates kept her upright.
Natasha - Promise us you'll take better care of yourself, babygirl.
Natasha said with her tone meaning business.
Y/N nodded, a genuine smile playing on her lips.
Y/N - I promise, moms.
Wanda grinned, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
Wanda - And if you don't, we might have to resort to more drastic measures.
Y/N - Like what? *raises an eyebrow*
Wanda and Natasha exchanged a knowing look before simultaneously saying: Mama bear's voice, the head-tilt and the raised eyebrow.
Y/N burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the quinjet. As they exited the aircraft, a trio of superheroes ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, Y/N couldn't help but feel grateful for the bonds forged not just in battle but in the quiet moments of care and concern.
#avengers sickfic#avenger!reader#avengers x platonic!reader#avengers x platonic reader#avengers x reader#avengers x reader platonic#avengers x teen!reader#platonic avengers#platonic avengers x reader#wanda maximoff x teen reader#wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff#wanda maximoff x daughter!reader#wanda x natasha x reader#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff x teen!reader#natasha x reader#natasha romanoff x reader#mama nat#wandanat x reader#wandanat fluff#wandanat x daughter!reader#wandanat x y/n#wandanat#wandanat x fem!reader#wandanat x female reader#wandanat x you#natasha romanoff x daughter!reader
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