#not a sickfic.... what a surprise

[valkyriexo]

You Faint | Bang Chan

ᑉ³pairing; Bang Chan x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Sickfic, Comfort, Fluff,

ᑉ³warnings; Fainting due to Dehydration and being busy, mentions of not eating, mentions of not drinking water, kissing, Implied Female reader, Established relationship

ᑉ³Authors Note; Other members coming soon!

Part of the "He helps you when.." collection. Other members parts: Chan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Han | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

In the flurry of your responsibilities as a personal assistant to the CEO of a massive corporation, every second counts, every task critical to the smooth functioning of the business. Despite the hunger gnawing at your stomach and the parched feeling in your throat, you soldier on, driven by the need to ensure that everything operates seamlessly for your employer.

Hours blur together as you navigate the demands of the corporate world, your own needs pushed to the sidelines in the relentless pursuit of success. The weight of expectations presses down on you with each passing moment, propelling you forward even as exhaustion threatens to overwhelm you. You don't have time to notice the way your limbs grow heavy with fatigue, the world around you fading into a distant blur as you push yourself beyond your limits.

But as the day wears on, your body begins to rebel against the neglect it's been subjected to. Dizziness clouds your vision, a warning sign of the toll the day's exertions have taken. With every step, your limbs grow heavier, protesting against the punishing pace you've been maintaining.

And then, without warning, it all becomes too much. Your vision blurs, black spots dancing at the edges as dizziness overwhelms your senses. Your knees buckle beneath you, unable to support the weight of your weakened body, and before you can even comprehend what's happening, darkness claims you.

As consciousness slowly seeps back into your awareness, you find yourself nestled on the plush couch of the CEO's office, the soft hum of the air conditioner the only sound in the room. Your head throbs with the remnants of your fainting spell, a dull ache echoing through your skull.

Blinking groggily, you glance around the room, your eyes adjusting to the dim lighting. To your surprise, you find yourself surrounded by two or three other assistants, their faces etched with concern as they hover nearby, murmuring amongst themselves.

"Hey, are you okay?" one of them asks, her voice laced with worry as she kneels beside you, her hand hovering over your forehead. "You gave us quite a scare there."

You nod weakly, the events of the day slowly coming back to you in fragmented pieces. "I... I think so," you mumble, your words slurred with exhaustion.

The other assistants exchange worried glances, their concern palpable in the air. "You should rest for a bit," another assistant suggests, her tone gentle as she helps you sit up, offering you a glass of water.

Taking a sip, you feel the cool liquid soothe your parched throat, the sensation a welcome relief. As you lean back against the cushions, you're grateful for the support of your colleagues, their presence a comforting reminder that you're not alone in your struggles.

"Thanks," you murmur, offering them a weak smile. "I appreciate it."

"We were so worried about you," one of them says, her voice filled with genuine concern. "You gave us quite the scare."

You offer a weak smile, still feeling disoriented and unsure of what happened. "I'm sorry," you mumble, your words barely audible.

Another assistant nods sympathetically. "We called for help," she explains gently. "We wanted to make sure you were okay."

You furrow your brow, confusion clouding your thoughts. "Called for help." you repeat, the words sinking in slowly.

Your mind feels foggy, memories hazy and fragmented, making it difficult to grasp the severity of the situation. The concern in the assistant's eyes only adds to your growing sense of unease, prompting a knot of anxiety to tighten in your chest.

Before anyone can elaborate further, the door to the CEO's office swings open, and Chan rushes in, his expression a mix of panic and relief. "I got here as fast as I could," he says breathlessly, his eyes darting around the room until they land on you. "Are you okay? What happened?"

You swallow hard, the reality of the situation hitting you like a ton of bricks. They called Chan, your emergency contact, before they even called the paramedics. You feel a pang of guilt knowing that he's here now, worrying about you, when you hadn't wanted to burden him.

As Chan rushes to your side, his expression a mix of relief and concern, you can see the worry etched into every line of his face. His hands tremble slightly as he reaches out to grasp yours, his touch both reassuring and desperate.

"I... I don't know," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I fainted, I think."

Chan's eyes widen with alarm, his grip on your hand tightening. "You fainted?" he repeats, his voice tinged with disbelief. Chan's concern deepens, his brows furrowing with worry. "Do you know why?" he asks gently. "Did you eat today? Drink enough water?"

You shift uncomfortably under his scrutiny, the guilt of neglecting your own well-being weighing heavily on you. "I... I may have forgotten," you admit sheepishly, avoiding his gaze.

His expression softens with understanding, but a flicker of frustration dances in his eyes. "Y/N.."

"I just didn't have time," you whine, feeling the weight of his disappointment settle over you. "I have deadlines to meet, and it's been really busy here with the CEO prepping for a major partnership with another company. Plus, I'm in line for a promotion, Chan. If I do well, it's almost guaranteed. But if I fail, then I have no shot."

Chan's expression doesn’t give much away, but his resolve remains firm. "It's not that important," he insists, his tone gentle but firm. "There will always be other opportunities. Your health should come first."

You shake your head, frustration bubbling to the surface. "Not everyone can lead and be super talented like you, Chan," you argue, your voice tinged with emotion. "Some of us have to work twice as hard just to keep up."

"I know it feels that way," he says gently, as he reaches out to cup your cheek, his touch warm and comforting. "You're already doing more than enough," he assures you, his gaze unwavering. "But your health should never be sacrificed for success."

You sigh, feeling the weight of his words settling over you. "I know," you whisper, your voice heavy with resignation.

Chan's hums at your response, his hand lingering on your cheek for a moment longer before he reluctantly withdraws. "Let's go home," he says gently, " You need rest."

With a heavy heart, you rise from the couch, your legs trembling beneath you as the full extent of your exhaustion becomes apparent. Chan's eyes widen in concern as he notices your struggle, his expression softening with empathy.

"Here, let me help you," he says, moving to your side and slipping an arm around your waist for support.

You lean into him gratefully, feeling the warmth of his embrace. With Chan's steadying presence, you manage to make your way out of the CEO's office and towards the elevator, your fatigue pressing down on you with each step.

As you reach the lobby, Chan guides you towards the exit, but when you attempt to take a step forward, your legs buckle beneath you, weakened by fatigue. Chan's eyes widen in alarm, his arms wrapping around you protectively as he catches you before you fall.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice filled with concern.

You nod weakly, feeling embarrassed by your inability to stand on your own two feet. "I'm just... really tired," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Without hesitation, Chan sweeps you up into his arms, his strength a reassuring presence against your exhausted frame. "Let's get you home," he says softly, his voice filled with tenderness.

You nestle into his embrace, feeling safe and secure in his arms as he carries you out of the building and towards the waiting car.

Once you're settled into the car, Chan drives you home with careful attention, his concern never wavering as he steals glances at you from time to time. When you finally arrive at your apartment, he helps you out of the car and guides you inside, his arm wrapped protectively around you.

As you enter the cozy sanctuary of your home, Chan guides you towards the couch. However, he senses your hesitation, the way you lean heavily on him as if struggling to keep your balance.

"You need to rest," he insists softly, his voice laced with concern as he helps you settle onto the cushions. Despite his gentle urging, you remain silent, the weariness evident in every line of your body.

"I feel gross," you finally murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, admitting to the discomfort that weighs heavily on you.

Chan's brows furrow with worry, his gaze searching your face for any sign of discomfort or pain. Seeing your distress, he nods in understanding.

"Would you like to take a shower?" he suggests gently, his tone filled with empathy. He waits patiently for your response, ready to provide the support and comfort you need

You shake your head slowly, a feeling of exhaustion washing over you. "I don't think I have the energy," you confess, feeling a pang of guilt at the admission.

Chan's expression fills with empathy as he steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently squeeze yours. "That's okay," he reassures you, his voice soft and comforting. "Why don't we start with something smaller? Like washing your hair?"

You blink back tears, starting to feel overwhelmed. "I just... I feel so drained," you admit, your voice trembling with emotion.

Chan nods sympathetically, his gaze filled with compassion. "I understand," he says softly, his words a soothing balm to your weary soul. "Let's take it one step at a time, okay?

As Chan helps you make your way to the bathroom, you feel the weight of exhaustion pulling at your limbs. With his steady support, you settle on the edge of the bathtub, feeling drained and weak. Chan kneels beside you, his gentle hands reaching for the shower head. His concerned gaze meeting yours.

"Lean back," he murmurs, his voice a soothing melody in the quiet bathroom. You obey, allowing your head to rest against the edge of the tub as Chan pours the water over your hair, the liquid cascading down in a comforting stream.

The sensation of the warm water against your scalp is both soothing and revitalizing, washing away the weariness that has settled deep within your bones. Chan's touch is tender, his fingers massaging your scalp with care as he works shampoo into your hair, creating a rich lather that fills the air with a subtle scent of eucalyptus.

As Chan tenderly tends to your needs, a wave of helplessness crashes over you, leaving you feeling small and useless. The inability to perform even the simplest tasks on your own gnaws at you, a constant reminder of your vulnerability. You watch as Chan effortlessly takes care of everything, his competence highlighting your own shortcomings.

A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you struggle to suppress the rising tide of frustration and self-doubt. "I hate feeling like this," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper, tinged with the bitterness of inadequacy.

"Like what?" Chan's voice is gentle, his concern evident as he seeks to understand you.

"Helpless," you confess, the word heavy with emotion.

Chan notices the heaviness in your sigh and the sorrow in your eyes, and his heart aches with empathy. Leaning closer, he places a soft kiss on your lips.

"You're not helpless, love," he murmurs, his voice soft and filled with affection. "You're just taking a break. Everyone needs a little help sometimes, even superheroes like you."

His words are like a warm embrace, wrapping around you with love and understanding.

"You're my baby," he whispers, "And I'll always be here to take care of you, no matter what."

As Chan rinses the shampoo from your hair, the water running clear and pure, you feel a sense of renewal wash over you. With each gentle stroke of his hands, you can feel your energy slowly returning, a flicker of hope igniting within your chest.

When the task is finally complete, Chan reaches for a fluffy towel, wrapping it around your shoulders with care. He helps you to stand, guiding you away from the bathtub.

"Let's dry your hair a bit so you don't go to bed with it wet," he suggests, his lips forming a shy smile. He grabs a hairdryer, carefully adjusting the settings before starting to blow dry your hair, the warm air a comforting embrace against your skin.

As he works, you feel a sense of peace settle over you, the sound of the hairdryer a soothing backdrop to the quiet intimacy of the moment.

Chan concentrates intently, his brow furrowing as he focuses on the task at hand. His brow furrows in concentration, his lips pursed in determination as he attempts to weave the strands of your hair into a braid. With each failed attempt, a mixture of frustration and amusement flickers across his features, his cheeks flushing slightly with embarrassment.

You can't help but find his earnest efforts endearing, and a soft chuckle escapes your lips as you watch him work. The sound fills the small bathroom, mingling with the gentle patter of water droplets.

"Where did you learn to braid?" you ask, genuine curiosity in your tone.

Chan looks up at you, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "I've been teaching myself," he admits, his fingers still fumbling with the strands of your hair. "I thought... one day, when we have kids together, I want to be able to braid their hair. I want to be the kind of dad who can do that."

His vulnerability touches your heart, and you reach out to gently squeeze his hand, a tender smile playing on your lips. "You'll be an amazing dad," you assure him, your voice filled with love and admiration. "And you're already an amazing partner."

"I want to be better,"he says softly, his voice tinged with sincerity. "For you."

He leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. His lips are soft against yours. As he pulls away, his eyes shimmering with adoration, he presses another tender kiss to your forehead before returning to his task.

"You did great," Chan whispers, his voice filled with pride and admiration, as he guides you to your bedroom. The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a warm, comforting light across the room as he fusses over you, fluffing pillows and tucking blankets around you until you're cocooned in warmth.

With gentle hands, he arranges the pillows behind you, ensuring you're propped up just right for maximum comfort. He tucks the blankets snugly around your shoulders, his touch tender and reassuring as he ensures every corner is tucked in securely.

After making sure you're settled, Chan disappears into the kitchen, the faint clinking of dishes drifting through the air as he prepares your meal. Moments later, he returns with a tray laden with food – a simple yet nourishing meal, prepared with love.

The aroma of home-cooked food fills the room, mingling with the soft scent of freshly laundered sheets. Chan sets the tray down on your bedside table, arranging the dishes with care before settling in beside you.

As you eat, Chan sits close by, his warmth radiating beside you. He regales you with stories and jokes, his laughter filling the room with a sense of joy and ease. Each tale is punctuated by his infectious laughter, and despite your weariness, you can't help but smile at his antics.

As you finish your meal, feeling the warmth of the food spreading through your body, Chan rises from his seat beside you, his movements fluid and graceful as he clears away the dishes. The clinking of plates and silverware fills the air as he tidies up, his attention to detail evident in every gesture.

Once the dishes are cleared, Chan returns to your side, settling in beside you on the bed. He pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you in a gentle embrace. The familiar scent of his cologne envelops you, soothing away the remnants of tension that linger in your muscles.

With a contented sigh, you snuggle closer to him, reveling in the warmth and security of his embrace. Chan presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his touch a silent reassurance that everything will be okay.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he murmurs, his voice low and raw. As he speaks, he guides your hand to his chest, letting you feel the rapid thud of his heart beneath his shirt.

"Every time you're in pain or in danger," he continues, his voice barely above a whisper, "it's like my whole world stops."

You feel a lump form in your throat, a rush of emotion threatening to overwhelm you. "I'm sorry," you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion. "It wasn't on purpose."

Chan shakes his head, his grip tightening around you as if afraid to let go. "I know," he says softly. "But I need you to promise me something."

"What?" you ask.

"Promise me that you'll always try your best to care of yourself," he says, his tone earnest. "Promise me that you won't push yourself too hard, that you'll listen to your body and prioritize your health."

You meet his gaze, seeing the depth of his concern reflected in his eyes. With a nod, you offer him a small smile, filled with gratitude and determination.

"I promise," you vow, your voice steady with conviction.

Chan's eyes soften, a tender smile playing on his lips. "And I promise in return," he says softly, "to always be there when you need me, or a little extra help."

He settles back against the pillows, pulling you with him until you're both comfortable. As you nestle into each other, Chan reaches for the remote control, flicking through the channels until he finds a movie that catches your interest.

The soft glow of the TV bathes the room in a warm, flickering light as the movie begins to play. You rest your head against Chan's chest, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat getting faster beneath your ear. It's a comforting sound, a reminder of the love and stability that he brings into your life.

As the movie unfolds, you lose yourself in the story, the worries and stresses of the day fading into the background. With Chan by your side, you feel safe and at peace, cocooned in a bubble of love and warmth.

*·˚ᑉ³ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Taglist | Thank you for your support | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like | © 2024 Valkyriexo  licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 4.0 

#stray kids smau #skz smau #skz texts #stray kids #straykids x you #stray kids ff #straykids angst #skz imagines #straykids fluff #skz #skz x reader #bang chan #lee felix #lee know #minho #changbin #jeongin #seungmin #hyunjin #fainting #bangchan #chan x reader #christopher bang #chan x you #chan x y/n #stayville

[writtnbyhan]

Let me take care of you.

PAIRING: han jisung x reader

TAGS: sickfic, idol!han, established relationship.

WORD COUNT: 1927

PROMPT: "and just when were you going to tell me about your [injury/illness]?" You're sick and Jisung is worried -- That's the plot.

warnings: mentions of being sick (reader has a cold). Let me know if I missed a warning.

author's note: i don't know where this came from. I had something very different planned for today's post but this came to me in a vision and now i can only think of jisung taking care of his s/o, he's so baby and he's probably so good at taking care of people !!!!! i just wanna be in between his arms !! being cared for !!!

Okay, here’s the thing: you knew you were getting kinda sick. You knew from the way your body ached when you first woke up, from the sore throat and from the general feeling of being unwell. However, you decided it was not a big deal, and that was obviously your first mistake.

It was Jisung’s kind-of-free day, which meant he only had to go to the studio with 3RACHA to work on “some stuff”, as he put it himself, refusing to elaborate claiming that it was a surprise. You knew they were probably working on music for the next comeback even when this one wasn’t even out yet, and that’s why Jisung wouldn’t come clean, wanting to avoid your reprimanding from overworking themselves when they finally have some free time from the studio, only having to comply with the schedules related to the comeback.

On these days, he was usually only busy for a few hours before they got distracted with something random and therefore decided to call it quits, going home and relaxing for a few hours before moving onto the next scheduled activity. Today, Jisung didn’t have any of those, only going to the studio and then straight back home. You didn’t want to ruin what little time together you were getting these days, and you weren’t actually sick yet, so it wasn’t anything you should worry about.

You woke up alone, the other side of the bed unmade from when Hanji woke up, earlier, and went to the gym before the studio. He spent most nights with you, cuddling to make up for the time you weren’t capable of being together due to busy schedules and responsibilities. Everything ached, and the only thing you wanted to do was cover yourself with the sheets and sleep some more. But, you couldn’t do that. You needed to take a shower, clean up a bit, and force yourself to feel better. “Just for today, tomorrow we can be sick,” you told your body as you got out of bed, frowning and closing your eyes when the light coming through the window was quick to cause you a headache.

Shower first, you decided, going for the warm water and hoping it’d help with the pain on your body. It did, luckily. You then brushed your teeth, noticing on the mirror that the bags under your eyes were darker and more noticeable. Yes, you were obviously getting sick. Tomorrow. You were getting sick tomorrow, because today you had to spend the day with Jisung and cuddle with him watching Ghibli movies, it was a need.

After breakfast, you took some ibuprofen and sent Jisung a quick text.

“good morning, baby. hope everything’s going well at the studio, missing you already :)”

Putting your phone down after that, you set out to clean up the apartment, taking more ibuprofen whenever your body was being inconvenient to you.

“hello cutie, we’re actually wrapping up for the day!! going home in 30, love you.” You read the text when ten minutes had already passed since it was received. With a smile on your face, you sent a quick reply, knowing it wasn’t necessary given that he was already coming home, but also knowing that he would sulk if you didn’t reply to his “love you”.

“love you too<3 will be waiting with the popcorn ready.”

Making good on your promise, you started making popcorn and conditioning the living room for

Making good on your promise, you started making popcorn and setting up the living room for your movie plans, bringing all the blankets you could find (which was not actually necessary, but you were starting to feel cold so you thought it’d be better to have those around) and the pillows from your bed.

As you were placing the popcorn on the table with some juice, the door opened, and in came the squirrel-looking boy that was able to put a smile on your face instantaneously, even when you were feeling so ill.

“Hello, my love!” you said, dramatically, bringing a hand to your own chest as if to hold your heart. “I thought you’d never make it, I was left missing you for too long!”

He smiled with that heart-shaped smile that made your heart do spins. You felt dizzy just by looking at him (okay, maybe that was the cold you probably had, but you decided to convince yourself it was Jisung’s fault). “My lady, I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting, shall we begin with our plans?”

You giggled, skipping towards him to give him a kiss on the cheek and drag him to the couch that was currently surrounded by blankets. You chose one and threw it over both of you, getting comfortable in between your boyfriend’s arms with the remote in hand.

Halfway through the first Ghibli movie of the night, you began sneezing.

“’m sorry” you mumbled, getting up to grab some tissues and noticing you felt much more sick than in the morning.

You should tell Jisung, you knew that. But he’d worry, and you didn’t want to cut your night together short.

So, you didn’t. You grabbed the tissues and got back into his arms, kissing his hands when they were in front of you. Jisung freezed when you did that, and you frowned — it was a common gesture between the two of you, why was he reacting like that?

His hand went quickly to your forehead.

Oh, that.

Jisung gasped.

“Baby, you’re burning up.”

He sounded worried, and you sighed.

“I know.” You said. You didn’t actually know you had a fever, but you didn’t want him to make a fuss. You wanted to watch movies together, and cuddle, and sleep. And okay, maybe you had a headache and that had made you grumpy, which was something that always happened when you were sick so Jisung was used by now to your complaints about his caring.

However, despite knowing you always reacted badly to feeling unwell, that comment had made him frown, looking at you while his hand was still on your forehead.

“You knew?” he repeated, clearly agravated by what you had just told him. “And when exactly were you planning on telling me? When you collapsed in the hallway or while I was being forced to bring you to the hospital?”

He was being dramatic, of course, but the sincerity in his worry and his concern made your heart soften a little, so you directed your eyes to the floor, blinking to try and ease the headache that had formed from looking at the screen for too long.

“I didn’t wanna worry you” you mumbled, voice soft and shy. He melted a little at that, his anger dissapearing almost as quick as it had made his way forth.

“Baby, you need someone to take care of you when you’re feeling like this. We could’ve just cuddled in bed so you were more comfortable, and I could’ve been checking on your temperature and your medicine. What hurts?” he asked, giving a little kiss to your forehead before letting his hold around you loosen, clearly having plans of getting up.

You whined at the lost of his warmth against your back, your eyes filling up with unwanted tears at the cold and the loneliness you suddenly felt.

“Hannie…” you cried out, looking up at him, who looked almost bewildered. When he met your eyes, a pout formed in his face. He extended his arms towards you, now standing in front of the couch, and hugged you so you could attach yourself to him like a koala would to a tree. Your hold was weak, so he made sure to keep you safe with one hand on your back while he wrapped a blanket around you as if you were a baby. You knew the plan was to get you to your shared bed so you could cuddle more comfortably and drift off to sleep when you needed it. Problem was: you had needed it for about 15 minutes by now, so hiding your face in his neck and letting his warmth envelop you, you were quick to fall asleep against him, not minding his movements or the sounds around you.

You woke up when it was already dark outside. A wet cloth was on your forehead and you were now in bed, your boyfriend’s hand on your waist and Ponyo playing in the background. You looked to your bedside table and found a water bottle and some pills that you knew you didn’t have in your house. You knew Jisung never wanted to leave your side when you were sick, no matter that you were asleep, so you were sure he had those delivered or asked one of the boys to pick them up for him.

You turned around, letting the wet cloth fall off so as to hide your face in his chest. You felt better after sleeping, and you were sure your fever had subsided because you no longer felt cold, but your throat was still sore and your eyes still stung with the light.

At your movement, Han directed all his attention towards you, kissing your forehead and tightening his hold on your waist.

“Hello, sleepyhead. You need to take some medicine, I asked Chan-hyung to bring it here because all you had was some ibuprofen, and you were running out of it. How are you feeling?” he asked, his free hand caressing your hair and making you feel a lot more relaxed, even when your back still ached and your throat hurt.

“I’m okay,” you settled for, your voice coming out raspy and probably revealing what you were hiding. He chuckled, and you knew he knew what you just said was a lie, so you sighed. “I’m feeling a lot better, but my throat still hurts and my body aches. It’s probably just a cold.” You mumbled the last part against his chest, a subtle way of saying: there’s no need to worry this much.

He nodded, which you knew because you felt his head moving above yours. “Probably. Please, take some medicine so you can feel better faster.”

You did as he asked, taking the pill he was offering you and drinking from the water bottle he had uncapped and handed to you. You smiled at him in thanks, after wincing from the bitter taste of the pill.

“Sorry for ruining or movie date.” Your eyes were sad and he knew you were sincerely sorry. A pout formed on your lips as you thought of when you would be able to have the next one, knowing it’d be difficult to plan out given that the comeback was so close.

“You didn’t ruin anything, baby,” he said, equally as sincere. “It’s not your fault you got sick, and I don’t mind taking care of you — I really like it, actually. Plus, I got to watch the movies while watching you sleep, so… I really don’t mind. I just want you to be okay so we can have more movie dates.”

You blushed at his words, feeling soft and just wanting to kiss him — you both knew you should not do that, for he couldn’t get sick now because he had a lot of presentations and performances to do. You pouted.

“This is so unfair, I want to kiss you so badly,” you complained, and he laughed, kissing your cheek.

“I know, baby, me too. So, take your medicine so I can get all the kisses you owe me.”

#✿ . . cami writes #skz x reader #skz imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #han jisung x reader #han jisung x you #han jisung x y/n #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff #stray kids fanfic #han jisung fluff

[comfortless]

If it's not too much trouble or boring to write, may I ask for more König taking care of sick reader? Thanks :)

(The anon that asked for the other sickfic and that is sick again 🥲)

König brings you breakfast. Tries, at least. There was an attempt made to ensure that the plate of hastily thrown together food and the big mug of lemon tea look nice together. Warm bread and your favorite jam, butchered on the plate with the butter running off to the other side of it entirely. He’s not a chef, and breakfast isn’t quite his forte; König much prefers you cooking in the mornings and the lazy way he can drape himself over you as you do so.

But… you’re ill and look so somber and adorable tucked into bed, wearing one of his shirts and hardly able to keep your eyes open when you’re presented with food. To think this poor little angel would have to suffer so… He momentarily sets everything aside, tells you in a quiet tone of voice that everything around the house has already been handled, so all you need to do is focus on taking care of yourself. No. Actually, he can help you with that too.

Despite any protests, you find yourself seated in his lap, one large hand gently caressing your cheek as a digit prods at your lips. There’s an expectation of compliance. He knows what’s best, or, has himself convinced that he does.

“You have to eat,” he chides, bringing the bread right up to your mouth. Apple butter for the first bite, some other sticky confection on the next. And as frustrating as it might be when all you would like to do is curl back into bed and nurse your aching head with the comfort of a cool pillow, König does not let up until every crumb on the plate has been cleared.

There’s a dollop of jam smattered across your bottom lip from being hand-fed like a disobedient pet. Then, a warm tongue grazing over it and a mouth leaving a trail of kisses up to the peak of your warm cheek. “Messy little thing,” he huffs against your temple. “And your tea..?”

Thankfully, he doesn’t try to scald your mouth feeding you that, too. His hands find your hair instead, then massage at the nape of your neck as you sip away at the bitter drink. There’s a rumble in his chest as he tries to soothe you, humming a song his Oma used to sing to him as a boy until your eyes shut and you relax against his chest in sleep.

If or… when you do try to leave the bedroom, you’re met with a horribly doting brute. He isn’t entirely sure what else he can do to console you. He isn’t one to sit about on his phone for hours on end, but his search history is assuredly a mess by now. You’re not given the chance to walk even a foot past the threshold of your shared room before you’re picked up and toted about like a bride on her wedding day with no warning.

Medicine is pressed into your mouth by his hand while you’re sat on the countertop, trying to assure your weary, giant nurse that you’re fine. He could stand to relax a bit. König is nothing short of a tense, anxious nightmare when he’s worried about something, especially something as important as you. It’s no surprise when you find yourself lying back on the couch with his face buried into your chest as you stroke at the top of his head, the overgrown buzzcut prickling the tips of your fingers. He smiles in his sleep, babbles something like a wish as his hands twitch to squeeze at your sides.

“Just… stay right here.”

#never a bore! i love writing silly soft fluffy Kö #anything to try and cheer up the lil wisp in my phone screen heheh #i hope that you are okay! i will send you all of the love and light in the world hand feed it to you too if i must! #until then i hope you’re resting up and drinking lots of water!

[mahoushojo-chan]

Astarion x Tav || sickfic

can you keep me close? (can you love me most?)

synopsis: her vision is foggy, but she's fairly certain she can discern an angelic figure by her bedside, radiating a brilliant white or perhaps a gentle golden hue, accentuated by the candlelight in the dim room. then, the soothing radiance recedes slightly, and the angel utters, "you're an idiot," with a casual air, the words tinged with a devilish tone.

an excerpt of 'cause my love (is mine, all mine)

word count: 1435

pairing: astarion/tav

other tags: f!reader, bard!tav, half-elf!tav, hurt/comfort, sickfic, non-sexual intimacy, romantic tension, friends to lovers, the usual at this point, song inspo: someone to stay - vancouver sleep clinic

ao3: here

concept: sickfic!!

Tav isn’t really sure what’s happening.

Actually, the whole past twelve hours have been a little blurry—memories and movements kept blending themselves in a non-cohesive way, she kept forcing her limbs to move but they would trail sluggishly behind, and she isn’t sure where she is right now.

When she feels something cool on her forehead, she finally startles.

Her vision is foggy, but she's fairly certain she can discern an angelic figure by her bedside, radiating a brilliant white or perhaps a gentle golden hue, accentuated by the candlelight in the dim room. Then, the soothing radiance recedes slightly, and the angel utters, "You're an idiot," with a casual air, the words tinged with a devilish tone.

Ah, naturally. She had never expected to receive her very own angel. It seemed more likely that the gods would send an eerie, skeleton-like old codger, draped in tattered robes, who would speak in cryptic riddles to assist her, or a dream guardian that, in reality, turned out to be a peculiar, haughty tentacled creature with aspirations of dominating all other races in the world with mind-controlling parasites.

She squints and blinks repeatedly until Astarion comes into sharper focus. He's seated in a chair, legs crossed, arms folded, and appears quite displeased. She vaguely recollects a caregiver mentioning bringing some medicine, and fervently hopes that her current company isn't the result of that promise. After all, her companion is one of the last individuals she wishes to see right now.

The situation is rather embarrassing. She's cocooned in blankets that are overly warm, her hair is in disarray, she can't quite manage to open her eyes completely, and her muscles are protesting, urging her to remain at rest. She's determined not to let Astarion witness her in this state or feel sorry for her.

Her first instinct is to apologize, especially under his scrutinizing gaze. Instead, she insists, “I’m dying. Can’t you be a little nicer?”

“Oh, goodness me. Perhaps I’ll just leave you to suffer this horrible affliction alone,” he offers, hand on his chest in mock offense as he gets up, pretending to leave.

“Good. You don’t need to take care of me—”

She reaches out for her hat and makes an attempt to rise, but Astarion places his hands on her shoulders, gently guiding her back onto the bed. His touch, once more, carries a soothing coolness, alleviating the hot discomfort and muscle soreness. "Oh, no, no, no. Absolutely not. I am not suffering another heart attack because of everyone’s favourite idiot again," he admonishes her, and she blinks in surprise, as it almost seems like he's expressing genuine concern for her.

“I’m not everyone’s favourite idiot,” she protests, weakly, even as he presses her back into the mattress to lie down.

“No, but you’re mine.” He says, perched on top of her. He's leaning above her now, effectively pinning her to the bed. He senses her slight movement beneath him, though it's hard to discern if she's merely shifting or genuinely attempting to break free, given her frail state.

Nevertheless, he gazes down at her from above, her hair splayed across the pillowcase, her face flushed, eyes half-closed, disheveled clothing, and heavy breaths. He realizes the position he’s in and releases her quickly, flustered. He hides this by opting to fetch a drink of water from his waterskin for her.

“You—you could have said something, you know.” He continues, smoothly. “Before it got this bad.”

“You had other things on your mind. Didn’t want you to worry about me,” she mumbles, but Astarion detects the slight slur in her words. He lifts the glass to her lips, eyes lingering on its shape, and she takes a sip of the cold liquid, letting out a soft moan of relief.

“Don’t want you to get sick, either.” She adds, snapping him out of his reverie.

“Thinking your companion is going to die after they randomly collapse is very worrying, so you know.” Astarion chides, putting away the waterskin. “And also, I’m far too dead to contract such a simple illness. Dalyria says it’s from exhaustion—something you’re suffering from more than me, for once.”

He’s really sure that she’s dying now. She does not retort, and against all odds, it seems that she actually managed to fall asleep again. It makes sense to him that her sickness might be getting slightly worse. When he first touched her forehead, it felt scorching to the touch, and she's now buried beneath several layers of blankets, almost swallowed by the bedding.

Astarion takes in the sorry state of the room. There's a soiled towel nearby with remnants of vomit. He observes her shivering, her clothes clinging to her body, drenched in sweat.

Astarion sets out to gather some supplies—more towels, additional water, and some rations. They were running low on food, but as long as she could sustain herself, he wasn't too concerned.

He watches her as she drifts in and out of consciousness, noting her increasing confusion, likely due to the worsening fever. She mumbles about things he can't quite make out as he settles with a book to keep her company while he monitors her condition.

He glances up from the pages periodically as she rests on the makeshift bed, wrapped in old, dusty blankets. Astarion stokes the nearby fireplace to provide warmth, even though she appears to be sweating profusely, so he's unsure if it's the best idea.

She did seem to be relieved by his touch, though. To check on her condition once more, he reaches out and gently brushes her hair to the side to touch her forehead. She initially flinches, and he moves to withdraw his hand—until she grips his wrist. It’s a feeble hold, but she keeps his hand pressed against her face.

He realizes he doesn’t feel repulsed by her actions at all. It’s true, she’s using him—quite literally, as some sort of relief—but it feels like she needs him in this moment. He can’t pretend not to like the thought of being needed, even wanted by her.

He wonders, as an extension of that line of thought, if he would be okay with kissing her. Reflecting on his past experiences with the drow, he remembers the familiar, lingering disgust and self-hatred that typically arose. However, Tav doesn't evoke any of those emotions within him. His hand drifts, and his thumb traces her bottom lip gently. It's not smooth or plump; it's dry and cracked. Somehow, that makes it feel more authentic, and the question lingers in his mind.

But he doesn’t need that. He can get physical affection from anywhere. He just… likes this. That’s all it is. That’s all it has to be, right? This is rarer—he wouldn’t give this up for the world.

So he doesn’t allow his thoughts to wander beyond that.

But seeing her reluctance to let him go stirs something within him. It’s a tug at the depths of his chest, an undeniable ache. Well, if he could be of help to her like this, then who was he to deny her? After all, it wasn’t as if they hadn’t shared moments like this before.

He proceeds with caution, making every effort to avoid disturbing her as the bed slightly dips underneath his weight. He pulls the blanket over both of them and he draws her near, and she emits a soft sigh as her arms instinctively encircle him, warming his chest.

In the absence of a clock, Astarion loses track of time as he remains in bed beside her. He devotes most of it to observing her, running his fingers through her hair with a gentle touch. It's an act one might do with a lover, although she remains unconscious. He could murmur tender words, and she would remain unaware. Even if she happened to hear, he suspected her current state of mind would prevent her from retaining the information. No, this is for his own solace, and he finds it strangely comforting.

#astarion romance #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #fanfic #bg3 #writing #astarion headcanons #astarion x mc #mutual pining #astarion fic #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x dark urge #sick fic #mahoufiction #sickfic #fic ideas #writing prompt

[hearts-hunger]

january blue || josh kiszka x reader

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Cabin Fever Masterlist

Summary: You're sick, and Josh takes good care of you.

Pairings: Josh x Reader | Genre: fluff, h/c, sickfic | Word Count: 2k | Warnings: none!

A/N: Here's another one of those self-serving fics that I hope you like :) Also this is lowkey an ad for Netflix's “The Greatest Night in Pop” because that was a great documentary. Anyhoopla I hope you like it! ♡

“Sweet baby, when is your birthday again?”

You pulled your blank gaze from the waiting room wall, frowning a little as you looked over at Josh. It took you a second to think of a response; the fluorescents overhead were harsh, and everything seemed unnaturally bright under them. Josh held the pen poised and ready above the intake form, waiting for you to tell him your birthdate.

The uncomfortable vinyl chair creaked when you turned towards him. “You don't know my birthday?” you asked, unsure if you should be surprised by that. You were surprised, but you were also rather disoriented, so maybe it was a normal question for an attentive boyfriend to ask.

He cracked a smile, a welcome bit of tenderness in the cold, stark doctor’s office. 

“I do,” he said. “I was only teasing.” He jotted it down along with your other details, taking care of the task for you as you sat in the waiting room together. It was sweet of him to do it and try to take your mind off things while he did, and it made the appointment seem a little less daunting.

“What are your symptoms?” he asked, writing down the ones he already knew. “Earache, sore throat, congestion?”

You nodded, covering your ear with your hand, careful of pressing too hard. “Dizziness, too. And a headache.”

“My poor baby,” he said sympathetically. He finished up the intake form. “Okay, honey. You’re all set.” He returned the clipboard to the front desk, taking your hand when he came back to sit next to you.

“What do you think?” he asked. His hair was a golden halo of soft curls, and it didn’t surprise you that even the awful atmosphere of the doctor’s office didn’t dim his warmth and cheerfulness. “Do you wanna read one of these magazines that have been here since the eighties? There’s probably some older ones if that sounds too modern.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I think I’m okay, thanks.”

He smiled. “Well, let me know if you change your mind.”

He pulled out his phone to answer a text from Danny; you rested your head on his shoulder, trying to ignore the persistent ache and the vaguely panicky feeling you always got at the doctor. 

Josh gave you a quick smooch on your forehead. You smiled.

“What was that for?” you asked.

“Danny said to give you a get-well kiss,” he said. “So there you go.”

You cuddled closer to him. “Thanks for coming with me.”

“Of course, baby.” He pocketed his phone. “Thanks for asking me. I would have been sad to find out you went without me.”

You raised your head to look at him, a bemused smile crossing your face. “Why?”

He shrugged. “I know you don’t like the doctor, and I like to be with you for things that make you nervous, if I can. I’m glad you know you can ask me for help.”

Your smile was wobbly, then. “Aw, Joshy. I love you, you know.”

He gave you a sweet smile. “I love you too, baby. Hopefully we’ll be in and out, and then we can spend the rest of the day cuddled up on the couch. Sound good?”

“Sounds wonderful,” you said with a sigh. 

You lost track of time in the waiting room, sucked into the weird vortex of discomfort and the smell of antiseptic, but eventually your name was called. Josh went with you, and though you might have felt a little embarrassed to be a grown woman with a personal escort to the doctor, you just didn’t have the energy to care. Besides, there was nothing wrong with having Josh with you, and you were glad you didn’t have to do it alone.

He waited patiently while you got your vitals checked, making jokes about your pulse being a little high with white coat syndrome. When the nurse left you alone in the room again, he gave you a thumbs up.

“You’re doing great, baby,” he said with a sweet smile. “I bet you’re the best patient they’ve had all day.”

“I do my best,” you said. You fidgeted on the table, the paper crinkling under you. “Can we get coffee after this?”

“Sure, honey. Whatever you want.”

You gave him a teasing smile. “Whatever I want, huh? Could you strip naked right now and do the hula for me?”

He laughed, and the warm sound of it took the edge off the chill of the sterile room.

“Maybe not whatever you want,” he corrected. He stood and came over to the exam table, giving your thigh a comforting pat. “But I think I can handle coffee.”

You winced and tilted your head as you felt a sharp pain go from your ear all the way down your neck. Josh gently covered the spot with his warm hand, and you leaned into his touch.

“There’s this new documentary on Netflix,” you said, trying to distract yourself from the ache. “About the night they got the supergroup together for ‘We Are The World’.”

“I saw the trailer,” he agreed. He slowly ran his fingers over your fevered skin. “You want to watch that when we get home?”

“Sure. We can make a roster of who should be in the next version with you guys.”

He smiled. “Okay, baby. I’d like that.” A sympathetic frown tugged at his features when you grimaced again.

“I'm sorry you don't feel good, honey,” he said. “I know a jacked up ear isn't very fun.”

You breathed a laugh. “I shouldn't complain. Your whole eardrum exploded, so mine’s easy in comparison.”

He chuckled. “Are we in a competition for worst ear injury? That's kinda weird, even for us.”

You leaned your head against his, thankful for the way he comforted you and made you smile without even trying. 

He pulled back when the door handle turned, and gave your hand a squeeze before he took his seat again. The doctor gave you a quick exam, confirming an ear infection secondary to a sinus infection, and prescribed you a round of antibiotics. 

Josh got you squared away at the desk before you left, and you were content to let him do the talking as the pain started to catch up with you. He led you out to the car, getting you settled in the passenger seat before he got in himself.

“Still feel up for coffee?” he asked.

You curled up in a pitiful little ball. “Yes, please. But maybe I’ll get the Medicine Ball instead.”

He kept one hand on your thigh as he drove, and you half dozed with your hands wrapped around the wonderfully warm Starbucks cup. He ran into the store to pick up your prescription and a few other things, and though he’d promised to be quick, he was gone longer than you’d expected.

“Where did you go?” you said, an irritated, petulant tone creeping into your voice. “The Bermuda Triangle?”

“I’m sorry, baby,” he said sincerely, putting the bags in the back of the Jeep. “The pharmacy line was super long. I guess I should have taken you home and come back out for your medicine.”

You softened, feeling a little guilty. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be grumpy with you when you're running around doing everything for me.”

He touched a hand to your cheek. “You don’t have to apologize, baby. I know you don't feel good. I understand if you’re grumpy.”

You held his hand and kept it pressed to your cheek for a moment. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure, baby. Let’s get you home, okay?”

At home, he got your medicine and some painkillers into you before he ran you a bath. He sat on the edge of the tub, brushing your hair back from your face.

“I think you’ll feel better if you have a nap, baby,” he said, keeping his voice quiet. “Do you want to eat something before you lay down?”

You shook your head. “I don’t really have an appetite.”

“I understand. I’d like you to try and eat a little something, though, just so the medicine doesn't make you sick. How about some soup?”

You looked up at him. “Can you do the spinach and rice one Jake makes?”

He nodded slowly. “Uh... yes. I think so.” You laughed when he pulled out his phone to ask his brother for the recipe.

He pressed a kiss to your hair. “Let me go get it cooking,” he said. “You enjoy your bath.”

You gratefully sank into the warm water, letting it soothe your aches until you felt all jellied and tired. Still, you were reaching the edge of your tolerance for the consistent pain; you knew the Tylenol had to be kicking in soon, but until it did, you were steadily getting more outdone with feeling so miserable. You hardly spoke when Josh came to help you out and brought you warm pajamas, and he watched you with worry as he steered you to the couch.

You winced when the pain spiked suddenly. “Oh my god, ow.”

Josh pulled back from you. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“No. My stupid ear.” You gingerly pressed your hand to it, close to tears with frustration and discomfort. You looked pitifully up at him. “It hurts, Joshy.”

“I know, baby,” he said gently. “I’m sorry. What can I do?”

You shook your head, unable to think of anything, even if there was anything he could do. He just pulled you close and held you in a safe, steady hug, and it was exactly what you needed.

“My sweet baby,” he said softly. “I’m so sorry you’re hurting.”

A few tears spilled over, and you buried your face against his chest.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you said in a small voice.

“Honey,” he soothed. “You’re welcome. You don't have to thank me. I wish I could do more to help.”

You hugged him tighter, resting in his warmth and closeness. “You’re perfect, Josh.”

He rested his head against yours and rocked you gently. “I love you, my sweet girl.”

When the uptick in pain finally subsided, maybe because the medicine had finally kicked in, you let yourself be settled on the couch in a nest of pillows. Josh covered you with every fuzzy blanket he could find until you were practically buried in them.

“Joshy,” you giggled. 

He smiled. “There’s that sweet laugh,” he said tenderly. “I missed it. What’s got you so tickled?”

You tried to lift your arms under the blankets. “I’m gonna be trapped in here.”

He chuckled. “It’s my master plan. Keep you wrapped up in blankets so you can never escape me.”

“I don’t want to escape you.”

“Just making sure.” He held your face in his hands and gave you kiss after kiss after kiss, each one sweet and gentle and joyful. “I love you very much, you know.”

You gave him a bashful smile. “Yeah, I know.”

You had dinner — Josh had replicated Jake’s recipe perfectly, which he insisted was thanks to his twin’s detailed instructions — and watched the documentary about the recording of ‘We Are The World’. The two of you spent a while listing people you wanted in your supergroup to play with Greta Van Fleet.

“I want Noah Kahan and Gregory Alan Isakov,” you said.

Josh nodded sagely. “I see the vision. We should get Labi Siffre too.”

“Can we go back in time and get John Denver?” you asked.

He smiled. “Yes. I’m making that executive decision. Because I want to grab the original lineup of Fairport Convention.”

“So... we’re doing a folk rock version, then?”

He hummed in agreement. “And we make friends with everybody, and it’s the number one single in the world, and it’s your favorite song that we’ve ever done.”

You laughed and cuddled against him when he pulled you close.

He ran his hand up and down your arm. “I'm glad you’re feeling a little better, honey.”

You gave a contented sigh. “Me too.”

It had started to rain when you got home, and there was still a gentle, steady drumbeat on the roof that matched the hazy blue wash against your windows. Josh held you close and told you about what they’d worked on in the studio, and before long, the warmth of his voice and the sound of the rain worked as surely as a lullaby to pull you towards sleep.

Josh brushed his thumb over your cheek. “You’re so beautiful, baby,” he said softly.

You tilted your face up for a kiss, and he obliged you. He was all love and gentleness and warmth, as he always was, and you melted into his touch.

“You love me lots, don’t you?” you asked.

“Yes, baby. Lots and lots.”

“Oh good,” you said, cosy and sleepy and content in the safety of his arms. “I love you lots too.”

gvf taglist:@malany-gvf@spark-my-nature@eearevee@madneedshelp@demonrat444@josh-iamyour-mama@honeyandsweettae@mydarlingdanny@gretavandann@sacredjake@myleftsock@joshskittytickler21@hellowgoodbye@watchingovergvf2@fearfulspirit@mywaysoon@carbondancingthroughtime@caprisunsister@eraofstardustchords@sacredthefran@shesawomaninadream@serendipiti@demonrat444@wildflowerxx-x@tearsofdanny@iluvjoshkiszka@jordie-gvf-admin@demolitionndann@hi-hi-hello11@wildbluesorbit@nessie-glorpa@laneygvf @jazzyfigz @musicspeaks @amythestars @missharvestmoon @readyforthegarden

@gvfrry@ohhey1293@the-chaotic-cow@mountain-in-springtime@xserenax-13@stardustjtk @brooke-gvf@weightofdreams-gvf@jakeydoesit @hayley1623@doodle417@finestoflines@brokenbellz@bowievanfleet@s0livagant@strugglingtodoshit@s-u-t@kay-jordan@gretavanfleas@jakeyboiiiiiii@gretavansteph@gretavanbitches@myownparadise96@luverleaver@weightofdreamz@greatervanfleet@maedesculpaeusoubi@jakekiszkasbestie@pineapple-photographer@baguettejuliette@alexxavicry@levi-wants-ur-bones@carlybubs@cowboysamkiszka@dannyandthekiszkas@jordierama@slutforsteve@starshine-wagner@quartzzzzzzz@edgeofdreams@writingcold@lostoverseer@catharu77@mackalah@jaketlove@haileygvf@blacksoul-27@ur-m0ms-blog@hi-hi-hello11@wildbluesorbit @nessie-glorpa @laneygvf@madneedshelp@dreamsingxld

#i've been in such a writing slump but hey leave it to josh and baby to get me out of it :)) #greta van fleet fanfiction #gvf fanfiction #gvf fluff #josh kiszka x reader #josh x baby #maddie writes stuff!

[maximwtf]

“Fret not, all will be well.”

Xianyun x Reader

Words: 2k

Google Docs Pages: 3

Warnings: chronic (joint) pain but I guess the mentions are very brief, could just go as a sickfic, hurt/comfort angst you know the usual. Mother is mothering

Opening: Having been Xianyun’s disciple for years, you finally move to the harbour. Though, trips to Mt. Aocang to see your master started to feel like a chore after your body started to ache. Word of this pain spread to her unknownst to you. This making the adeptus seek you out. 

AN// Reader can be any gender! Oh no, is that another very self indulgent fanfic I see?! Yes. But these help with the bane of my existence so I might as well keep making them. This also gives me a chance to learn how to write for her, because I’m a firm believer that more content of her is needed :”D. I found her way of speaking hard to follow up on without hearing her talk constantly, so I apologise if any of her lines seem off. 

I proof read this fairly quickly, so any mistakes are on that.

“Fret not, all will be well.”

After years of studying the adeptus arts with Cloud Retainer, you moved back to Liyue Harbour. Got yourself a comfortable house to live in, and built your new life around there. From time to time you would still visit the all too familiar mountain that your master ruled. You’d sometimes bring in notes and greetings from Shenhe and Ganyu whenever they couldn’t find the time in their busy lives to visit the crane. An overall nice set up you’d gotten yourself into. 

You couldn’t deny that the scenery along the way to Mt. Aocang was also beautiful, bringing you joy as you made your way each time. As rough as the trip from time to time was, it was always worth it in the end. You could tell the visits delighted the adeptus living alone, bringing her peace of mind to hear that her disciples were doing alright. 

Though as of recent, you had found it hard to make it all the way to her. Body aching badly enough to not even make you dare to try. You began giving your regards to Cloud Retainer through Ganyu or Shenhe instead, staying home and working as you’d usually. Though, as much as you had hoped otherwise, the condition seemed to worsen over time. 

But even with life getting harder due to the aches, you couldn’t find it in you to complain. After all, you lived comfortably and didn’t feel the need to bother anyone with this. Maybe even still hoping that this would eventually pass. That having been one of the main reasons why you hadn’t told Cloud Retainer why you stopped visiting her like you’d done in the past. 

But even with the hopeful mindset, you had to admit to yourself that doing daily tasks had become more challenging. You'd already taken a few days off work to rest, but that hadn’t helped as much as you had hoped. Your form ached just as much each morning, having to find the extra courage to get up and prepare breakfast. 

So in hindsight, the fact that the news of your worsening condition had spread shouldn’t have been as much of a surprise as you’d taken it as. Especially with how close you were with the people around you. Them figuring out something was wrong was no surprise. 

Though, you didn’t notice any of that happening. Being busy enough with keeping your daily routines together. 

And that was exactly what you were doing this morning. Sitting up from your bed with muffled groans, eyes tired from the lack of sleep. With a yawn you attempted to gently stretch, wiping your eyes to maybe rub away the exhaustion behind them. You didn’t know if it ever actually went away at this point, but you stayed hopeful. 

As normal as this morning had been so far, it was going to turn upside down soon enough. And that happened as soon as a knock echoed from your front door. It alerted you, chasing away the last bits of sleep from your mind as you took a hold of your nightstand to stand up. 

You stumbled with the first few steps, cursing to yourself silently before shaking the nagging attitude off for whoever was at your door. With a deep breath you tried to pull something that resembled a smile on your face before opening the door to see who was on the other side. But that facade of a smile soon fell when you saw your master standing outside, patiently waiting for you. 

Your eyes widened for a brief moment, trying to quickly collect yourself as to not embarrass yourself in front of her. “Good morning, master.” You began, watching as her keen eyes looked around your house quickly before landing on you. “May one come in? Perhaps join you for breakfast?” She asked, a polite invitation with a clear hidden meaning. But who were you to decline her offer, after not being able to go and see her yourself for such a long time. “Ah, of course. Come in.” You mentally sighed, stepping out of her way as she walked through the threshold. 

Her feather-like clothing swayed smoothly as she made her way to your kitchen, seeing how messy it looked. You cringed at seeing the dishes you’d avoided cleaning, knowing it would put a strain on your body and even the thought of that felt unwelcoming. But it most certainly was not a good look for you in her eyes. But she was kind enough not to mention it, hiding the scowl mixed frown from her face before turning to you. 

“Word of you got to one, making one wish to come and see you.” Xianyun said, seating herself on one of the chairs gracefully. You didn't know what she was talking about. Not having any memory of talking to Ganyu or Shenhe about yourself, you weren’t so sure what she’d heard and from who. “I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean, master,” you replied before turning your back to her in an attempt to prepare tea for the both of you. Still fully listening to what she had to say. “One heard you had fallen ill, thus making you unable to visit.” She said, voice observant as she watched you gently. You cringed at the explanation, assuming the people around you must have spread the word around. “Ah, I see. Well, worry not for I am perfectly fine.” You hummed, taking a hold of the cups with a low hiss. You hadn’t had the time in the morning to mend yourself into a better shape before making something to eat. So these tasks hurt to do, but there was no way to explain this to Cloud Retainer in simple means. 

But perhaps you didn’t have to explain. The hiss and careful movements must have been enough for her to form a deeper frown on her face once more. “One does not recall teaching one’s disciples to lie, hm.” She said with a huff, some offence in her tone but you knew it wasn’t serious. You were more worried when you heard her stand up. You swallowed hard, turning to see her after placing down the cups. “One may not know every mortal illness, but that does not mean one is blind.” She continued, placing her hands to her hips. You weren’t sure what she was looking to gain from this, drawing in a deep breath. There was no way out of this with her. You’d have to explain what had been going on. 

You leaned on the kitchen counter, looking away from her as you collected your thoughts. “Well, I wasn’t necessarily lying when I said I was fine. It’s merely some joint pain.” Cloud Retainer gave you a look, tilting her head a little as if to point to the mess in your kitchen. Not to even mention the rest of the house. “Well- It may or may not stop me from doing certain tasks sometimes, but it honestly is nothing to worry yourself over.” You sighed, not sure if you were trying to defend yourself or make her worry less. “One does not worry themselves, one merely came to see where you had been,” she huffed but after reading her expression it wasn’t hard to tell that she was only keeping up appearances with the comment. She had come here for exactly what you accused her of, worry. 

There was no getting through to her. You sighed, shaking your head gently before giving in. “Very well. It hurts enough to have stopped me from climbing the mountain to come and see you. And maybe it also affected the appearance of my living space.” You huffed, turning your eyes to her form, giving her a strong ‘you happy now?’ look. And in return she gave you a moment of deep silence before crossing her arms over her chest. “Words of comfort are not one’s strong suit, but allow one to prepare the tea for you. We shall sit and talk after.” She said, and without another word you understood the look she was giving you as ‘go sit down’. And that you did with no further complaints. 

You abandoned the kitchen, not wanting to sit in silence in the same space as her as the water slowly boiled. So you retreated to the nearest couch, huddling up on it to the best of your ability. You’d figured a while back that sitting with your legs criss crossed or straight were the only two pain free ways of sitting. So, choosing to cross your legs, you waited for your master to come back. And whatever entailed when she did.

In no time the sound of her heels alerted you, the sound getting closer and soon a warm mug was placed on the table in front of you. Xianyun herself sat on a stool you kept under the table, crossing her legs. 

Taking a hold of the mug, it warmed up your hands. Not even having noticed how cold your hands  had gotten, it felt nice. Bringing it up made the steam hit your face, but it wasn’t too hot, making you confirm that the tea probably wasn’t too hot not to drink. So you took a sip, holding back a wider smile at the taste. It reminded you of the tea you used to have with her back when you’d just started as her disciple. The teas she made had a specific taste that you couldn’t chase whenever you made it. At some point having started to believe that perhaps it was the effect that happened when you ate any food someone else had made. It just tasted better. And so did the tea she prepared, bringing back pleasant memories. 

But that train of thought was interrupted as she spoke up, placing her mug down gently. “One had time to ponder on your condition. One believes there may be a stronger medicine one could prepare for you in order to relieve the pain. One also feels the need to remind you, that one is always here for you. You need not but reach out.” She spoke, a sense of comfort in her words which somehow managed to embarrass you. 

You gulp down the rest of the tea, placing down the mug to reply to her properly. “You need not do that for me, if it’s any trouble-” You started, but she raised her hand slightly, shaking her head. “Nonsense. One wishes to help, it is no trouble. So fret not, all will be well.” And the way she managed to word everything out brought a sense of comfort that overpowered the embarrassment. Perhaps she was correct, all would be well if you had someone helping you. So you agreed with a nod. “Alright. Thank you, Cloud Retainer,” you added, a tired yet grateful expression on your face. 

A short, rather awkward silence fell upon the two of you. As if she wanted to say something but wasn’t so sure how. “Hm, as eloquent as one may be, there is not much more I can say. So allow one to tidy up here and you take a rest. One will wake you up in due time.” She requested but truly there was nothing you could say to protest against her. She was going to do it regardless. “You really do not have to,” you mumbled while laying down carefully, reaching down for a felt. You groaned lowly at the action, shoulder not giving out enough to unravel it. “One does not feel obligated to, fret not.” She replied, even as rhetorical as your silent comment had been. But almost as if automatically while speaking, she’d gotten up enough to unravel the felt for you before turning towards the kitchen. You blinked a couple of times at her action, not mentioning anything of it as you huddled to a more comfortable position. You’d thank her once you woke up again, was the last thought you had before the sleep you’d been losing recently caught up with you. 

#xianyun x reader #cloud retainer x reader #cloud retainer #xianyun #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #x reader #genshin x reader

[hazbinfallinginaspiral]

Sickfic Vox Ideas

And prompts, I guess.

Vox gets sick- well, the closest thing to it he can be, considering he’s part machine. He’s got a fever so his system is running hot, his body is sore, and he feels sort of sluggish. Most of the effects could be seen on his face. His screen flickers sometimes and is often buffering or loading. There might be small lapses of memory as his sickness progresses and his fever gets worse, due to corrupted files and loss of important data in his system. It’s backed up so he’ll be fine. He might have a few small crashes, displaying a blue screen. Caretaker handles Vox during this time, despite Voxs protests. Vox is a bit stubborn, not wanting to accept help, but becomes a bit clingy and more sweet than normal when he accepts being cared for.

-Pale skin, sweating (static), unfocused eyes

-flushed cheeks (screen), slight glitching

-Lying down/sitting with eyes open, everything blurry, just thinking because he can’t do anything else.

-Being dazed, disoreinted, confused, stressed or afraid.

-From nightmares/fever dreams

-system crash, making him frustrated

-temporary lapse of memory

-Garbled words and incoherent noises

-Shivering, feeling unbearably cold despite his high body temperature

-heat pouring off him in waves that can be felt just from being near him

-hypersensitive to touch, especially when its unexpected. Could startle him or hurt.

-Stumbling around, moving sluggishly

-losing his train of thought, trailing off midsentence

-Constantly clinging to caretaker because everything hurts, he’s miserable, and he doesn't know what to do with himself.

-having to convince/coerce him into take his meds

-Whining, curled up in bed, not wanting to move and swaddled in blankets.

-Him wandering around sometimes and making a bed for himself in whatever the warmest room in the house happens to be. (Cat behavior tbh)

-whispering sweet nothings as he falls asleep/as you cuddle because he can’t sleep (or he just had a nightmare) and is uneasy

-placing a hand on his forehead to check his temperature only to remember that doesn’t work because it’s a TV (then touching his arm or shoulder or something instead)

-extra pillows, blankets, water and a bucket at the ready

-cooking his favorite soup (or comfort food)

-finding something to distract him from pain (ex: movies, games, music, etc)

-convincing him that the medicine’s taste isn’t that bad

-KISSES AND LULLABIES AND COMFORT

-hdjdifjjdhjdjcbjdjs

Prompts

1. Vox's Screen Flickers: As Vox's fever worsens, his digital display starts to flicker more frequently, causing him frustration. Caretaker (could be reader, Lucifer, Alastor, whoever floats your boat) intervenes by adjusting the lighting in the room and finding a workaround to stabilize Vox's screen, earning a grateful smile from the usually composed demon.

2. Memory Lapses: Vox experiences occasional memory lapses due to corrupted files in his system. Caretaker helps him navigate these moments by providing gentle reminders and filling in the blanks, leading to some humorous exchanges as Vox tries to piece together his thoughts.

3. Blue Screen Crashes: During one particularly severe crash, Vox's screen displays the dreaded blue screen of death. Caretaker panics momentarily before realizing it's just a system error. They manage to reboot Vox's system and get him back up and running, with Vox expressing both annoyance and gratitude for their quick thinking.

4. Cuddling for Comfort: Despite his initial resistance, Vox eventually gives in to caretakers insistence on cuddling for comfort. They share a tender moment as caretaker wraps their arms around Vox, offering him warmth and reassurance as he battles his illness.

5. Care Package: Caretaker surprises Vox with a care package filled with remedies (for his physical symptoms and technological problems) and soothing programs to help alleviate his symptoms. Vox is touched by the gesture and allows caretaker to administer the treatments, grateful for their thoughtfulness.

6. Vox's Vulnerability: As Vox's fever peaks, he becomes increasingly vulnerable, shedding his usual stoic facade in favor of expressing his true feelings. Caretaker witnesses a softer side of Vox as he opens up about his fears and insecurities, forging a deeper bond between them.

7. Late Night Conversations: Unable to sleep due to his discomfort, Vox engages caretaker in late-night conversations about life, love, and the complexities of being a demon in Hell. Caretaker listens intently, cherishing the opportunity to connect with Vox on a deeper level despite how tired and groggy they are.

8. Comic Relief: Despite his illness, Vox's signature wit and sarcasm remain intact, providing moments of comic relief amidst the seriousness of the situation. Caretaker finds themselves laughing at Vox's quips, grateful for his ability to lighten the mood even in the darkest of times.

9. Slow Recovery: As Vox's fever begins to break and his systems stabilize, caretaker continues to provide unwavering support and care. They celebrate small victories together, rejoicing in Vox's gradual recovery and the return of his usual health and power.

10. Gratitude and Affection: In a quiet moment of respite, Vox expresses his gratitude to his caretaker for their steadfast companionship and unwavering devotion. He admits that he couldn't have made it through his illness without them.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #vox #my writing #writing #writing prompt #sickfic #he’s sick #my prompts #go feral idk #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel brainrot #sick #sick fanfic #vox x reader #vox x alastor #vox x lucifer #radiostatic #staticapple #if you want idc #vox x valentino #vox x velvette #voxvel #voxval #staticmoth #vox x husk #vox x y/n #vox x oc #vox x you

[corvidares]

you know what, i've sent this list to a couple friends at this point so i might as well make it a post -

ACE ATTORNEY FIC RECOMMENDATIONS!

(all mostly sfw) (i'll make a separate list of nsfw ones) in no particular order, besides the first few!

Pressure (pushing down on me) - genuinely the best ace attorney fic i've read. between the characterization, expansion of plotbeats, the prose, etc. Pressure elaborates on and reinterprets canon scenes taking place in the main trilogy. Obviously narumitsu flavored. CANNOT RECOMMEND THIS ENOUGH.

Kindred - my FAVORITE, genuinely a comfort fic i've reread at least three times. miles adopts Pess, a borzoi dog tied to a murder case. very narumitsu flavored

Indefensible - also HIGH up there as a favorite, a very robust murder case with fantastic characterization across the board. it's got narumitsu, it's got franmaya, it's got drama. everything you need. there IS a few sex scenes, but the author warns you in the chapter descriptions if thats not your thing.

continued....

take it like a man - light angst centered on phoenix, and suit shopping. it's good

New Digs - really well written oneshot highlighting maya's ptsd, which we don't do enough of as a fandom btw

you still love him (but she does too) - classic case 3-5 hospital scene, very beautifully written

i didn't know how so we took it in turns (to my surprise we found my words) - narumitsu hurt/comfort focused on miles' ptsd

the soul truth (and nothing but the the truth) - FRANMAYA CENTRIC MULTI CHAPTER!!! WOOHOO. a really very good case fic :]

Triple Blind Taste Test - this is a oneshot about fran being autistic and struggling with food texture, which makes Me Personally feel very seen

to know gifts given - miles and pearl bonding, very cute :'D

the patience of little great things - trucy sickfic, miles does the Most to help phoenix take care of her.

#ace attorney #narumitsu #wrightworth #franmaya #ace attorney trilogy #fanfic #ace attorney fanfiction #corvi caws #phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #franziska von karma #maya fey #trucy wright

[starrynini05]

help, I need somebody – ahn yujin x kim gaeul x 7th member!reader

Summary: your leader and your eldest would always be by your side, it’s never to late to ask for help

warnings: mentions of sickness, anxiety, vomiting, fever

tags: idol!au ; reader is '05 liner ; 7th member!reader ; platonic!gaeul x reader ; platonic!yunjin x reader

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort, sickfic

word count: 1.3k

a/n: WE ARE SOO BACK‼️‼️, I’m sorry for disappearing, but I’m officially a high school graduate and have time to write again, I hope you like this and expect more regular updates 🫶🏻

Your dynamic in the group was very simple, being, a year and a half older than Leeseo you were in between the youngest and the adults. Apart from you and Leeseo everyone was a legal adult, being more than 19 and already out of school.

You were in the rare middle between not being quite an adult, but not a minor either. With only 17 years of age you still were required to leave events early and go to school, while also being expected to have enough responsibility to fulfill your duties as an idol.

Although you were the second youngest, you were not as nearly as coddled as the maknae and you knew it was mostly your fault. You were added to the lineup really close to debut, being a transfer trainee from SM. This made you reserved and somewhat scared of your teammates, mainly because you were really nervous around new people, and shy in general.

And, even if you longed for that care, you were too shy to willingly ask for it. Now, in your dimly lit room, you lay awake tangled in the sheets, shaking. Your members fast asleep in their respective rooms, blissfully unaware of the turmoil brewing within you.

Earlier that week, yours and Leeseo’s school had canceled classes due to a virus going around. Both of you were thankful that neither of you had caught it, but now you weren't so sure. During practice, you felt more tired than usual and a dull ache had installed in your body, but you gave it no thought.

Now curled up in your bed, trembling and with what you were sure was a high fever, you regretted not saying anything earlier. Nonetheless, refusing to wake the others, you convinced yourself that you could sleep it off and wake up the next morning feeling better.

You had worked so hard to create a perfect facade, you were too embarrassed to let it falter. But, as time went on you only felt worse, transforming it into a relentless torment. Beads of sweat clung to your forehead as you debated whether to wake Yujin and Gaeul. Your heart thumped like a drum, the anxiety of disturbing their slumber almost as unbearable as the pain.

Finally, with a surge of determination, you mustered the courage to knock lightly on their shared room door. Inside the room, both Yujin and Gaeul woke up confused as to why someone was bothering them at 2 a.m. Confusion turned into worry, and Yujin hurried to the door with concern. She was surprised to see you standing there, your usual calm demeanor replaced by an ashen hue of unease.

You cleared your throat, adjusting your posture so you wouldn’t look as fragile as you felt in front of her, at least. You hated looking fragile in front of anyone, let alone them. They were your elders and you didn’t want them to think of you as someone fragile or weak. Sensing your hesitance she broke the silence first “Is everything okay?" she asked, the concern in her voice genuine.

Even then you wanted to resist but she was looking at you with such caring eyes, and you just felt so tired. You sighed in defeat, not quite looking at her face, your voice barely audible as you responded, "I... I'm not feeling well." Yujin's eyes widened, her concern replacing any hint of amusement she might have felt at your shyness. "What's wrong?" she asked while motioning for you to enter the room and lay in her bed.

Your voice trembled with pain while you explained your symptoms, failing to see the frown on her face at your sudden drowsiness. With a tired groan, she helped you lay on the bed, placing her hand against your forehead. As she was about to comment on your high fever you suddenly jolted, a sudden wave of nausea dawning over you. You barely had time to run into a nearby trash can before you were violently sick. Gaeul, who was almost falling asleep, was now wide awake, hearing your retching sounds. She quickly got up and ran to your side, holding your hair back and rubbing your back soothingly. "Hey, hey, it's okay. You're going to be fine. Just breathe, alright?" she whispered, trying to calm you down.

Your face was flushed, your body trembling as you leaned over the bin. You felt tears sting your eyes as you emptied your stomach, feeling miserable and weak. You hated being sick, especially in front of them. You didn't want to bother them or make them worry about you. You wanted to be strong and independent, like they were. But right now, you couldn't help but feel grateful for their presence and support.

When you finally stopped throwing up, you leaned back against the bed, feeling exhausted and dizzy. Yujin handed you a glass of water and a wet towel, helping you clean your mouth and face. "How long have you been feeling like this?" she asked, her voice gentle but stern. You hesitated, not wanting to admit the truth. "Um... around 1 hour ago, I guess." you lied, hoping they wouldn't notice.

They did. Yujin and Gaeul exchanged a look of disbelief and disappointment. "An hour ago?" Yujin repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Are you sure? Because we saw you looking pale and tired during practice, and you barely ate anything at dinner. And you didn't say anything to us. Why didn't you tell us you were sick?"

You felt a surge of guilt and shame, knowing you had been caught. You lowered your eyes, avoiding their gaze. "I... I didn't want to bother you. You have so much to do, and I didn't want to be a burden. I thought I could handle it on my own. I'm sorry." you mumbled, feeling small and pathetic.

Yujin and Gaeul sighed, shaking their heads. They moved closer to you, wrapping their arms around you in a warm hug. "You're not a bother, or a burden, or anything like that. You're our friend, our teammate, our family. We care about you, and we want you to be happy and healthy. You don't have to handle everything on your own. You can always ask us for help, or tell us how you feel. We're here for you, no matter what. Do you understand?" Yujin said, her voice soft and sincere.

Gaeul nodded, adding her own words of comfort. "Yeah, what she said. You're amazing, and talented, and beautiful, and we love you so much. You don't have to hide your feelings or pretend to be okay when you're not. You don't have to be perfect, or strong, or anything else. You just have to be yourself, and that's enough for us. You're enough, okay?"

You felt a wave of emotion wash over you, making you choke up. You couldn't believe how lucky you were to have them in your life, how much they cared about you, how much they accepted you. You nodded, feeling a smile tug at your lips. "Okay. Thank you. I love you too." you said, hugging them back.

They smiled, kissing your cheeks and forehead. "You're welcome. We're glad you're feeling better." they said, tucking you in the bed. "Now, you need to rest. We'll stay with you until you fall asleep, and then we'll call the manager and the doctor in the morning. Don't worry about anything, we'll take care of everything. Just focus on getting well, alright?"

You nodded, feeling a wave of relief and gratitude. You closed your eyes, feeling their warmth and love surround you. You drifted off to sleep, feeling safe and secure in their arms. You knew you had nothing to fear, as long as they were with you. You knew you had found your home, with them.

#ive x reader #ive yujin #gaeul x reader #yujin x reader #ahn yujin #kim gaeul #ahn yujin x reader #kpop x reader #kpop imagines #kpop gg #ive #sickfic #kpop sickfic #k films

[dominimoonbeam]

What's Happening?

Gavin/Freelancer sickfic I wrote for @glassbearclock my beloved!

Early early relationship, Freelancer has a cold but is worried that if they cancel on a date with Gavin he won't come back.

tags: sickfic, relationship uncertainties, gavin is a caregiver, light angst

What's Happening?

Freelancer felt like shit. They’d been sucking on throat lozenges like their life depended on it all morning. And it sort of did. At least their sex life did.

Gavin was a daemon, so it wasn’t like they could get him sick, they just had to not be disgusting when he came over tonight.

Fuck, they were so tired, but they dragged themself to the pharmacy and tried to find the strongest cold medicine that wouldn’t completely knock them out. They read the label on another bottle and had to bite off a laugh when it said not to operate heavy machinery. Did Gavin’s dick count? Were they the one operating it? No.

When they noticed someone sneaking a glance at them, they realized they’d laughed aloud. Oh shit, were they acting weird? They felt like a furnace in their hoodie, even though everyone else was wearing big jackets and it was snowing out.

The walk home felt twice as long as ever before. They were so worn out. They had to resist the panicked urge to pop the bottle in that shopping bag and take a few drinks. They needed to get their shit together. They needed to perk up. They had an incubus coming over!

Oh god, what if they couldn’t get it together? What if he realized they were sick? If they weren’t any good tonight, then would he come back again?

They liked Gavin. A lot. And not just for the sex. The sex was amazing, of course. It was the stuff of fantasies that Freelancer had only read and daydreamed about before. Their own brief sexual encounters with other people had been okay, but nothing like this. And Gavin made them feel like they were the deviant, like they were just as prolific and skilled as he was. It felt amazing and empowering and fun. They weren’t ready to give that up, but more than that, so much more than that, they were worried about losing Gavin.

They wanted to believe they were more than just a good meal to him, more than just benefits. They wanted to believe they were friends. But the level of worry they had over not being able to perform tonight was making them realize they really weren’t sure.

And if he didn’t come back, how would they find him? How would they ask how he was doing or if he wanted to hang out?

They were lightheaded by the time they got to their building and leaned heavily against the wall in the elevator. The ding seemed impossibly loud.

Okay. They just had to get to their apartment, chug some of that cold medicine, take a shower, and act like they weren’t ready to sleep for twelve hours.

The elevator dinged and the door rattled open. Freelancer walked down the hall, surprised by how it stretched and wobbled. That can’t be good. They managed to get their keys out and in the door, pushing it open and stumbling in.

“You’re late,” Gavin called from the living room, sounding seductive and guarded like always. “I was starting to think you were standing me up, Deviant. I was about to—Deviant?”

Their knees hit the floor just inside their apartment and they dropped their backpack and the shopping bag, somehow fumbling both in an attempt to hang on to them and to themself while their vision turned too bright and the ground kept sliding under them.

“Deviant?” He was closer. Was that panic in his voice? Shit.

They tried to say they were okay and to apologize, maybe even laugh at how clumsy they were, but everything went dark.

-

Gavin had only gotten there a few minutes before them. He’d actually been late, largely because he was struggling over how eager he was to see them. It wasn’t normal. He shouldn’t be that invested in one of his charges. They came and went. They were there for a good time, a good time he delivered, but he’d always been careful not to get too attached.

So, he’d been intentionally late.

And it hadn’t even mattered because his deviant wasn’t home yet anyway. So he sat on the couch and wondered where they were, if he should leave, if they were over him and onto other things…

And then the door had opened and he’d stayed on the couch, trying not to act overly eager.

And then his deviant had stumbled.

Gavin was there in a flash, standing over them and trying to understand what had happened. Their aura was…strange, and they were breathing fast. They mumbled out a tangle of what he assumed was supposed to be words before their body keeled forward in a dead faint.

Gavin caught them, one hand cupping their head before it could hit the floor. Panic stampeded through him. “Deviant?” he spoke gently, picking them up in his arms and carrying them to the couch. With a thought, he’d closed the front door.

He put them on the couch and their eyes were already fluttering open. “What’s happening?” he almost pleaded, touching their face and neck. They were so hot. This couldn’t be normal for humans. He used magic to search for injuries, for anything he could heal, but there was nothing.

They looked teary, pressing their lips and swallowing hard. They flinched, like that hurt. “Shit… I’m sorry, Gav…” They sat up. He stayed on the coffee table, hands roaming their upper body, afraid they’d tip over again. They coughed and tried to hide it against their arm.

“You’re sick?”

“I’m okay.”

“We should take you to a hospital.”

They smiled a little. “For a cold? No. Seriously, I’m fine.”

“You fainted!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for it!”

They caught one of his hands. They were so warm, but they looked up at him so calmly through those glassy eyes and past those flushed cheeks. “It’s okay, really. I just overdid it, I guess. I probably shouldn’t have gone out.”

“Why did you?”

They deflated, looking down. “I was getting cold medicine. I thought if I could get something to shake the symptoms… you wouldn’t notice.”

He blinked. “I mean, I’m glad you want me that bad, but I’m not sure my dick is actually worth dying for.”

They snorted a laugh and then coughed again, curling an arm over their face. “I mean, I wouldn’t say it’s not... But I just… I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

Gavin felt like the world had dropped out from under him. He stared at them. “What?” Disappoint him?

“I know you hang out with me for…” Their aura flinched and twisted, filling with self-doubt and delicate fear. “I didn’t want you to leave or… not come back,” they confessed quietly, shoulders sagging.

Gavin tried to absorb all of that. They had gone out when they were sick to try to get this cold medicine in hopes that he would somehow not notice they were sick so he’d fuck them, not because they wanted to get laid, but because… because they thought that was his only reason for hanging out with them? And why wouldn’t they think that, when he’d definitely always put it that way for himself and for them. But they wanted him to hang out with them… Enough to go through all this effort. Enough to put out when they were definitely not into it. There was a lot about this he hated but the crystal clear center was what almost had him choking up.

Fortunately, his deviant was definitely too sick to notice at the moment.

“I like you,” Gavin said, a little terrified to say it and sort of hoping that fever would keep them from remembering.

They looked up at him, their aura smoothing out with hope. It was beautiful. And it had cost him nothing but the truth. “So… You’ll come back sometime?”

He sighed, pushing some of their hair out of their face. “Oh, deviant… I’m not leaving you like this.”

They blinked and then straightened where they sat. “Y-You want to… I was worried the whole sick thing would be a turn off…”

He laughed darkly. “It’s not, but we’re not going to fuck. You fainted from walking down the hall. What I do with you might kill you right now.”

His deviant chewed their lip, leaning closer. Their weak aura even flared with interest. He smiled. They were incredible. “I don’t think it would… We could try.” They started coughing again, this time rooting around in the pocket of their hoodie, dumping little wrappers before coming out with what looked like a candy. They shoved it in their mouth and sucked.

Gavin ignored the way his dick jumped in his pants. No. Nope. He was not going to take that bait. He snagged one of the wrappers and spread it out, reading it. Medicine.

“We should put you to bed, right? The right way, I mean,” he smirked, floundering a little. What did people do with sick people? “We should get you in your pajamas and into bed and then… water?”

“Yeah, I’ll go to bed… You don’t have to stay, Gavin. I know this isn’t fun—”

“Who says it’s not fun? I’ve never taken care of a human before. Maybe I’ll be good at it…” He smiled. “I’m good at most things I do.”

His deviant smiled. “I believe you.”

He shivered pleasantly and scooped them up. The deviant gasped, throwing arms around his neck in surprise when he picked them up. Somewhere between the living room and their bedroom he vanished their clothes, enjoyed their surprised gasp against his neck and the naked skin in his arms for a split-second, before putting their favorite pajamas on them just as quickly. He settled them on the bed and pulled the covers up over them. He’d never actually pulled the covers up before…

For a second, he stared at them and they stared at him. They were so cute.

What else?

Fluids? That was an illness thing, right? He used magic to make a big glass of water and then considered their sore throat and added a cup of tea.

Deviant smiled, their aura practically shining with happiness despite.

Was it so easy to make all humans happy? Or just his human? He changed into his own comfy sweatpants and crawled in bed with them. “What else do you need?” He pulled their body against his, again surprised by the heat radiating off of them.

“No, that’s great. Thank you. You don’t have to stay.” Their eyelids were heavy.

He stroked their hair the way he knew they liked, of course, usually he did it as a part of aftercare, but care was care, right? “Do you want me to go?”

“No,” they whispered, half-asleep already but the answer coming fast and easy.

“Then I’ll stay.”

They smiled to themself and curled into his chest. He kissed their head. When they were asleep, he magicked their phone from their bag to his hand. He googled colds and what to do. When they woke up, he’d make soup and make sure they drank some of those liquids. It looked like he’d need a thermometer and maybe medicine to reduce a fever if they kept this up. He was going to be a fucking expert when they woke up, but, until then, he stroked their hair and their back and relished the steady pulse of their aura.

#redactedverse #gavin/freelancer #gavin is a caregiver in hiding #sickfic #comfort #giftfic #<3 #dominimoonbeam #redacted asmr #early relationship #uncertainty

[youreirrelevant]

Skyglow

pairing: kendall roy/reader

summary: “I want you to take care of me.” That makes him ache. Fills him with that heavy, hot feeling- the one you get when something’s a little wrong.

words: 1787

tags: explicit, sickfic, daddy kink, praise kink, but also a little degradation kink, pwp, established relationship, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, playful sex, like the tiniest bit of fluff, implied age gap, there's really nothing that establishes when this is so

a/n: I started writing this when I was sick a few weeks ago and I thought I'd finish it. It's just for fun. It's a little silly. It doesn't all have to be serious or good.

It always felt like a waste, to stay in bed all day. Somehow scrolling through your phone in the living room seemed more productive than if you did it in bed. You barely even had the energy to do that. Left thinking. Wanting. Always find your mind wandering to him and what he can do for you. A warm, soft place to rest your hands. Press your lips against.

A deep voice to coax you through what his cock brings out of you— 

But the exhaustion was bone-deep. Bending a finger, lifting an eyelid- both felt nearly impossible. Even while lying down you felt weak, like you couldn’t get deep enough into the pillow, into the mattress. You needed to pool and bubble out; water spilled on the counter. 

The door opening wakes you from what must’ve been the fifth nap of the day. You were in a guest room- you didn’t want to get Kendall sick. He had shit to do, things that were “unmissable.” 

It’s dark. You can see out of the window from the bed; the sky is blue-black, a yellow edge on the horizon that fades up into it. Planes blink red and white across it. Only some of the windows in the other buildings are lit, and you wonder how late it really is. It's quiet; you can hear the AC running. The apartment is thrumming with a sleepy energy, like the way voices sound when you’re dozing off- blurred and smoothed at the edges.

“Can I, uh, can I sleep with you?”

You mumble that he can, voice croaky and gone. Scooting further in on the bed to make room for him- every joint aching so badly you almost whimper. He wraps his arm around you, kisses the back of your neck, and breathes. The heat on your skin makes you melt. 

“I couldn’t sleep without you in there with me.”

He brings you a little closer, for emphasis.

“I’d like to say the same, but I’m exhausted.”

A little huff of air from him, an affectionate smile you can’t see. Another kiss, right along your hairline. 

You both lay there for a while, but you don’t fall back asleep. The thoughts are much worse when he’s flush against you, firm thighs and a softer chest. His arms around you- you want him to use them to pull you down over him. 

“Why aren’t you sleeping? You said you’re tired.” He sounds groggy, as if maybe he’d fallen asleep, for just a second. 

“I know I was just- I was thinking of this,” you giggle a little, “of this tweet. Where this guy said that pussy, when someone has a fever, is crazy because it’s so hot.”

He grins so wide it hurts his face.

“Is this your way of, uh, telling me you want me to fuck you?”

“I mean- we gotta at least find out for ourselves.”

Kendall slips his hand beneath the waistband of your pajamas, uses the pads of his fingers to guide your leg up, to drape over his leg. He’s surprised to find you so wet, skin scorching against his. Wonders how long you were thinking about it. Rubs your clit slowly, and you’re practically boneless already. But then fingertips work down, towards your cunt, and you tense in anticipation. He knows you’re sick; he should be nice. But he can’t help but tease, doing it a few times until you whine his name. 

“You need it that bad?”

“Please- ” you sound kind of annoyed, as if his denial doesn’t warm you.

His clothes are moved just enough, but he grips the waistband of your pants to yank them down as far as he can from his position- he wants to get at you fully. They get stuck above your knees, and you huff and whine as you kick them free clumsily. Kendall’s undeterred, puts you back where you were. Presses in easily, and maybe they were right. Your groan is distant in his ears. When he’s seated fully, he rests his forehead against your shoulder.

“Well?”

“It- it is hotter. It could be, uh-,” he makes a muffled sound, like he’s steadying himself, “be in my head, though. Placebo effect, or something.”

You can’t help but laugh a little, the noise scraping out of you so badly he almost couldn’t tell what it was.

“You’re ridiculous. You’ve been asleep all day, I come in to sleep with you and you want me to fuck you.”

“I want you to take care of me.”

That makes him fucking ache. Fills him with that heavy, hot feeling- the one you get when something’s a little wrong. He places a big hand on the back of your thigh, slides it up to lift your ass cheek, spread you open. 

“Like, a daddy thing, or-?”

Oh… man.

“I don’t know if we- if we have to be so- if we need to go quite that far.”

As soon as you say it you’re prepared to recant. It makes your stomach fill with butterflies and warmth but it seems so much more taboo than other things that people would actually consider worse. So heavily stigmatized, something everyone knew about and mocked. His teeth press into your shoulder, like he’s squeezing it out of you. 

“Well- it does sound… kind of hot. Maybe we ease into it? Maybe ‘daddy’ doesn’t have to be said, but implied?”

His hand slips over your hip to rest on your lower stomach, a slow pull and push of his hips as his fingers find your clit again. Not wasting any time.

“You want me to ‘take care’ of you?”

Plush lips slide beneath your ear as he speaks, and every inflection and hard consonant fills you with heat. It’s your words, but from his mouth, it sounds good and perfect and right. His voice is soothing in this condescending way and it makes your lashes flutter.

“Yes, Kendall.”

He uses his palm against your pubic bone to pull you close, allow him to get deeper, fuck a little rougher. Insistent. You reach behind you to grab at his waist, fingers fisting in the soft fabric of his t-shirt. Your voice is fucked- every moan and whimper is broken and raspy and quiet. He kind of likes it, drags his lips over your neck, laughing affectionately when his finger presses harder, rubs at just the right angle, against just the right side and you cry out hoarsely. Barely able to keep your eyes open before but you want him so fucking bad. 

It’s like you’re next to a fire; you can practically see a red glow coming from your skin, penetrating your closed eyelids. You’re limp, melted into the smooth sheets, rolling weakly against him when you really need it. His brows pinch and his jaw falls open with a desperate noise before his lip is tucked beneath his teeth. Kendall props himself up on his elbow, fingers slipping into your hair, damp from sweat, turns your head enough to kiss you. So slack and pliant. You don't even think to stop him. 

“Does that feel better? Is this what you needed?” 

Jesus. It’s as if your brain is already fried- you’re already gone. Making some noise that’s probably the saddest attempt at an ‘mhmm,’ ever been done. Trembling, pulled tighter, breathing ragged and uneven and burning in your chest and throat. He brushes the tip of his nose over your temple- his own breath puffs rapid and hot against you.  Grunting when you grip even tighter. 

When you cum, it's so good it hurts. Like massaging a sore muscle, or fingers into your cheeks when your sinuses ache. It seeps into your hips and belly and back and you lean into it, into him. He shushes you and you can’t help but let out this startled ‘ god .’ You want to tell him he feels perfect, fucking perfect, but the words don’t come out. His pace doesn’t falter -no matter how snug and plush and slick you are around him- and it makes it seem like it’s lasting forever. 

Kendall thinks it’s lasting forever; you’re over a cliffside, on the other end of a rope, trying to pull him down when he has to keep you up. He makes sounds like he’s struggling; when you finally relax, he sounds relieved. 

Part of him wants to keep it up, and he can’t help, for a second, seeing the new ease with which his fingers slip over you, pressing three flat against your labia to make you squirm from the sensitivity. But that doesn’t last long, arm moving to wrap around your waist to hold you in place. Insistent. 

You’re awash with fatigue, fingers curling around the edge of your pillow, lids low over your eyes. Each time his hips meet your ass you make these pathetic little noises from the impact, sometimes barely even audible. He grabs your face again to turn you toward him- you feel hot, cheeks flushed to show it. Skin around your eyes, shiny, blueish, almost cartoonish. But you look up at him dutifully.

“You’re so pretty when you take it for me.”

That reignites something in you, makes you moan and grab at him.

“Such a pretty, perfect little girl deserves to feel good. Always desperate to cum on my cock- thinking about it when you can barely fucking think.”

You let out something between a gasp and a laugh, stunned. Thrown against the ledge but you can’t go over until you get that little bit more. 

“I- Ken, can you- would you-?”

This is how it always goes- just one more. Kendall gives it to you and goes to get his, but it always puts you right there, and he can’t help but oblige. He wants to tell you to do it yourself, because you’re tired, and maybe you won’t get off and you’ll get frustrated and whine. That makes him feel orange-hot and tingly, makes his hips stutter at the thought. But that’s not what this was tonight. The wide pad of his middle finger is tight against you -swollen, slick- and even with how fast you cum, he cums faster, hips so rough against yours that you whimper and wince.

He’s almost as light-headed as you are, almost as lax, weak. Every inch of you is unbearably heavy; it's like your skin could slough off your face. It’s so good.

“I might bring a whole new, literal level to sleeping like the dead.”

Your voice cracks and you slump forward onto your stomach, keeping your face turned from him.

“At least you’ll feel better.” Smiling softly, rubbing your back.

“You’ll join me shortly, since you fucking kissed me.”

#kendall roy #kendall roy/reader #kendall roy x reader #succession hbo #succession fic #succession #reader insert #ig i'll make a masterlist or a tag for my fics or something tomorrow #my writing

[pretty-purple-pages]

𝓲𝓽'𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓶𝓮, 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝔂 𝔀𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓮 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓵𝓭

synopsis: grayson davenport hawthorne is sick. luckily his beloved girlfriend is there to help him.

pairing: grayson x reader (the inheritance games)

content (genre and warnings): fluff 100% fluff, banter, sickfic, grayson folds for reader, just grayson getting the love he deserves

word count: 0.5 k

"Gray?", you called out sleepily, half awake, but fully aware of the warm, shirtless body beside you. Grayson's hand was firmly wrapped around your waist, pulling your back even closer to his chest, if that was possible.

"You feel hot", you continued, propping on your elbows to look at his face properly. His normally perfect hair was dishevelled, but he still managed to look perfect. The kind of perfection which gave you butterflies.

"I know you find me hot, darling, but it isn't a reason to break our peaceful slumber in the middle of the night, is it?", Grayson answered, half annoyed, half amused, his voice even deeper than usual. He opened his eyes to look at you properly, running his hand through his hair.

"Not like that!", you gasped, as your cheeks burned red. "I'm saying, I think you have a fever."

"What?", your boyfriend asked with pure confusion painted all over his face. He looked absolutely adorable; it was an extremely rare sight.

"A Hawthorne doesn't get sick", he scoffed, as if you had told a dad joke. He was now fully awake and fully annoyed.

"Being a Hawthorne doesn't mean you're immune to diseases", you countered, exasperated, which was justified due to his utterly ridiculous statement. "Unless your sadistic psychopathic grandpa altered your genes to make you immune. Wouldn't be surprising, actually."

Grayson threw you a look and you rolled your eyes. You put your palm flat on his forehead and flinched back.

"You're burning!", you said, concerned, lines etching on your forehead. You stood up and rummaged through the bed-side table, and retrieved a thermometer with a victorious smile.

"Here", you tossed it to him. "Take your temperature, I'll be right back with some medicine."

You quickly ran and brought the paracetamol with a glass of water. He protested, but swallowed it once you glared at him. Yes, the all feared Grayson Hawthorne folded at your one glance.

"Now rest up", you ordered, getting into bed beside him, sitting up against the headboard. He took your hand and patted his head. You sighed, moving his head onto your lap, running your fingers through his hair, just how he liked it.

"Who would think that Grayson Davenport Hawthorne cannot sleep without his girlfriend playing with his hair", you giggled and he blushed from embarrassment. Oh, how you wanted to snap a picture right there and then, and then trade it with Jameson or Xander for some "Hawthorne gossip".

"Oh shut it", he mumbled as he snuggled closer to you, drifting asleep.

©reyna-obsessed | Not to be reposted, translated or copied on any platform

tags: @reminiscentreader @shuhuaspookie @loife1m @that-multi-fandom-hijabi @moondust-on-the-hijabi

#dividers by cafekitsune #mini writes—◈ #the inheritance games #grayson hawthorne #grayson x reader #grayson davenport hawthorne #the hawthorne legacy #the final gambit #the hawthorne brothers #writers on tumblr #writerblr #writers #writeblr #creative writing #writerscommunity #orginal story

[mikhailwrites]

Get well soon / Ghost x Soap

Kinktober #17 - Sickfic

Gaz takes one look at him before the morning briefing. “Shouldn’t you be in bed or something?” Soap waves him off. It’s not that bad, he keeps telling himself. It’s not like he’s a kid anymore; he can tackle terrorists; some puny flu ain’t a problem. And it ain't, until he collapses.

Ever since he was a kid, Johnny didn’t get sick often. A hardy highland bairn and all that. But when he did, it was always bad. His joints hurt, his head pounding, his stomach was all wobbly, unable to hold anything down, and he had a fever that would make anyone worry, if not straight up calling an ambulance.

Every time, it only lasted for a few days, but it was nasty and left Johnny exhausted.

Soap hasn’t been sick in years. Since he’s made it to SAS. It was a miracle, what with all the travelling, bad weather and harsh conditions they had to endure. Yet, at the same time, they were in top shape. Johnny’s life depended on his body functioning like a well-oiled machine, and he made every effort to keep it that way.

That’s why he is surprised – no – shocked when he wakes up with a sore throat, achy joints and a headache. They haven’t been deployed for several weeks, so it’s only typical British winter; wet and freezing - he has to deal with. There’s no way it is bringing him down, especially right before his leave to spend Christmas with his parents and siblings in Scotland.

Unless, of course, it is and in a rather spectacular manner at that. Gaz takes one look at him before the morning briefing. “Shouldn’t you be in bed or something?” Soap waves him off. It’s not that bad, he keeps telling himself. It’s not like he’s a kid anymore; he can tackle terrorists; some puny flu ain’t a problem.

When he’s lucky to make it to the bathroom before he throws up his lunch, he starts to have some doubts. Still, he has duties to attend to and no time to be sick. Who else is going to harass some poor recruits? And the damn paperwork isn’t going to fill and sign by itself.

He soldiers on as usual, with the sole example of skipping the gym; Soap is happy he’s able to drag his sorry arse about. No way he could lift any weight like this. Some bloke in the mess hall makes an off-handed comment about Soap looking like shit. Soap ignores it, which gets him a bunch of raised eyebrows. Soap has a reputation as someone you don’t want to mess with.

Today, he only grunts out some half-hearted insult as he goes about his business. Unaware of a pair of brown eyes watching him intently from behind the skull mask.

It only gets worse from there. The headache is absolutely killing him, no matter the amount of painkillers he’s already had. The bad knee aches and itches and twitches, making him even more fidgety than usual. Soap is also reasonably sure he’s running a fever. He should drink a lot of water. Would, too, if not for his damn upset stomach. He’s downright miserable.

He stands in the rain, raincoat doing nothing to keep the humid air from clinging to him. He’s so cold, shivering like a bloody chihuahua. Looking at his watch, Soap sighs. Still an hour to go. “No slacking off, keep up!” he hollers at the recruits who are drenched in rain and mud. At least he’ll be done for the day. Sweet Jesus, how he looks forward to his bed! Soap daydreams for a second, imagining the warm blanket and the quiet to soothe his headache.

Blinking the image away, he sees one of the recruits struggle behind. Soap is ready to go to him and make him do at least fifty mud-kissing push-ups. He takes a step forward and pauses as the world spins around him. Johnny takes a deep breath, trying to keep his balance. It only makes it worse, somehow. He needs to sit down but is far too unstable to attempt it. Instead, he stands there, praying the dizziness would go away. He can wait it out; he can do it. The moment his vision darkens, and the low hum fills his ears, he knows he’s fucked. And there’s nothing he can do.

The last thought to go through his head is that the nice thing about passing out is that you’re not present to the embarrassment of it.

He wakes up and, for a fleeting moment, thinks he’s feeling much better. It’s a lie. A few seconds later, his hand shoots to his forehead, clutching at it and moaning weekly in pain. It’s not a headache – well, it’s not just the headache. There’s something more tangible about it now.

Soap startles as someone opens his mouth and puts something small, round, bitter and disgusting on his tongue. Then, he feels the cold, hard edge of the glass being pressed against his lower lip. Someone cups the back of his head to steady him, but it hurts, and he tries to make it stop, so Soap tries to turn away. The hand simply grabs a handful of his mohawk and forces him to stay in place as the glass is carefully pitched, and he’s gulping down a bit of cool water along with the pills. There’s some more water being slowly poured into his mouth in small increments, and, finally, his head is laid back on the pillow.

Johnny waits before he tries to open his eyes. It’s thankfully dark in the room, the blinders shut, lights off except for the small desk lamp; its light warm and soft enough for him to bear with it.

He turns his head, surprised to see Ghost there. “You’re an idiot,” Ghost says in the most flat way imaginable. “You knew you were sick and just kept pushing yourself.”

“It was fine... until it wasn’t,” Johnny sighs, his voice a whisper, as he wants to avoid overusing his throat out of fear of a coughing fit.

“Yeah, genius, it usually is,” Ghost stands so abruptly that Soap thinks for a second he’s going to hurt him. Instead, he leaves, leaving Johnny alone, confused and unable to process what just happened. Not with how his brain is mushed with the fatigue and a fever.

When he wakes up again, he actually feels much better. The headache is gone, leaving behind a different kind of pain. Gingerly touching the back of his head, Soap figures he must’ve hit it when he collapsed. His throat is still sore, and he feels awfully weak but still a lot better. Whatever the pills Ghost gave him, they worked.

As is often the case, he must’ve summoned Simon with his thoughts because there’s a soft knock, a brief pause, and then Simon enters. He’s lost the jacket and traded the mask for a balaclava. Moreover, he’s holding two cups of what’s presumably a tea and has a book tucked under his arm.

Setting the cups down and sitting on the chair by Johnny’s bed, he looks much softer than the last time. “How are you feeling?”

“Better... the pills worked,” Soap rasps, his voice rough. Almost like Simon’s, he realises.

“Good. Here, drink this,” he nudges the cup to Johnny. On second glance, only Simon’s has tea; Soap’s is something else. “It’s supposed to help with the fever and sore throat.”

Johnny takes the cup, cradling it against his chest. Who would’ve thought that infamous Ghost could be so sweet? “Thank you, LT.”

The drink is vile. Sour and weirdly sweet, with a hint of bitterness and tastes like about the half of “My First Chemistry Kit” mixed together. Soap forces it down his throat, nearly choking on it. Setting the cup down, he focuses on Ghost, who opens his book.

“You don’t have to stand guard by my bedside, Ghost. I’ll probably not die of cold,” Soap smiles.

Ghost doesn’t say anything for a while. It’s obvious he’s hesitating about something. Soap, for once, doesn’t push him. “Do you want me to go?”

“No... I just... didn’t want you to feel obliged or something,” Johnny hurriedly clarifies. Having Ghost here is nice. Not being alone, feeling like he’s cared for.

“I saw it... when you passed out,” Ghost admits, closing his book and setting it aside. There’s something about his voice that makes Johnny focus more. For a moment, his thoughts clarify enough to offer a possibility. Ghost was worried about him.

Soap blinks a few times. Oh. Damn. The whole talk about Soap being an idiot suddenly makes much more sense. “I’m sorry.”

Ghost nods, his gaze intense and warm. It doesn’t look like he’s going to say anything else, so Johnny relaxes. Not for long, however, as realisation hits him. “Wait a minute. Weren’t you supposed to be up north? Checking out the newest SAS candidate batch or something?”

“I switched with Kyle,” Ghost says, way too casually for Soap not to get immediately suspicious. It’s not like Ghost to get out of the assignment, even one he might consider menial. He must notice Soap’s furrowed brows as he sighs. “Fine. I asked Kyle to cover for me so I could keep an eye on you. I knew you were being reckless and stubborn but didn’t know how far you would take it.”

Soap almost takes offence. Nearly says that he didn’t ask for a bloody nanny. Then he reconsiders because he’s laying in bed, feeling like shit, after he collapsed on the job. Creepin’ Jesus, Ghost is right. Right to call him reckless and right to keep an eye on him. “Thank you, I guess…,” Johnny mutters, averting his gaze. At least he can blame the blush on fever.

“I don’t want your thanks, I want you to do better,” Ghost says with a conviction that startles Soap a little. “I need you to do better, Johnny. I need you to have my six out there, but I can’t bloody well trust you with it when you don’t even have your own shit together, can I?”

Soap feels his jaw drop as he stares at Ghost. That’s some harsh truth right here. And it hurts something crazy because he longs for Ghost’s approval and trust. He yearns for him in a way that would get him fired from the force. “I just… didnae want tae bother anyone.”

What little can be seen of Ghost’s eyebrows disappear under the balaclava as he raises them in clear astonishment. “Didn’t want to bother anyone? You nearly gave me a heart attack, Johnny.” The way Ghost says that, the way he drops his gaze and digs his gloved hands into his knees, is stirring something in Johnny. Hope.

 Soap fidgets with the hem of the blanket out of sheer necessity to do something with his hands. There’s a lot going on in his tired, slightly delirious, overheated head. Too much not to end up in some serious trouble. “Kiss me?” He blurts out like a madman he is.

Simon’s head whips right up, eyes blown wide with shock. It’s precious to see him like this, but he regains his composure quickly. “Johnny… you’re not thinking straight.”

“Yer right aboot that,” Johnny smirks, unable to resist the call of the particularly bad pun.  He sobers up quickly. “I want it, Simon. Do ye? If not, just say the word, and we can just… blame it on the fever.”

“What I want is not important,” Simon tries to buy some time to think.

“I’m not hearing a no, Ghost,” Soap presses him on, licking his lips on purpose, just to tease the other man.

Simon huffs out a quiet laugh before he tucks the balaclava up on his nose, revealing thin, scarred lips, blond stubble and strong jaw. There’s no hesitation when he gets up from the chair slowly, leaning on the bed and closer to Johnny, whose mind is a neverending repeat of “yesyesyesyesyes…”.

Johnny angles his head up and with Simon so close, closes his eyes. He feels Simon’s breath on his face, there’s a trace of cigarette and a mint he took earlier. Johnny parts his lips slightly, waiting, waiting…

And Simon does kiss him. On the forehead. The absolute wanker!

He stays close as he says: “Let’s have this talk when you feel better.”

#call of duty #ghost mw2 #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghost x soap #ghostsoap #soap mw2 #soapghost #ghoap #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #fluff

[merrybloomwrites]

You Can Start a Family (Extra: Getting High)

Summary: Y/N's never tried weed before, and has an interesting night trying it for the first time with the three people she loves and trusts the most.

AN: This is a story about people getting high, written by someone who's never been high. I did a fair amount of research, so I hope it's accurate enough to what people experience lol

Previous Chapters:

Main Story: One ; Two ; Three ; Four ; Five ; Six ; Seven ; Eight ; Nine ; Ten

Sickfic Part 1 ; Part 2

Mitchrry Prequel

Fan Reactions

Holiday Blues

Mitchryy Reunion

Word Count: 2.8K

CW: Mentions of smut & daddy kink; drug use

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s a perfect Friday morning. You’re sitting at the kitchen table of your LA home with Sarah, Mitch, and Harry. Sarah had surprised you all with a full English breakfast “just because” and you’re enjoying every delicious bite.

It’s so good that everyone is practically silent, no one wants to take a break from eating to say anything. You’re the first to get full so you decide to start up some conversation. There’s something you’ve been wanting to ask them but have been too shy to actually voice your question.

Deciding to finally go for it, you break the silence saying, “What’s it like to get high?”

Simultaneously, all three of them stop mid chew to stare at you, completely caught off guard by your question.

Harry composes himself first and after finishing his bite of food he says, “Well it depends on what drug you’ve taken.” You’re grateful for the way he responded, showing that they’ll take the conversation seriously and not as a joke.

It’s no secret that he and Mitch have done a couple different drugs in the past. It’s common knowledge that “She” was written by Mitch while he was under the influence of psychedelic drugs. And everyone’s heard the story of Harry biting off part of his tongue while high on mushrooms.

Harry has also mentioned having done coke once or twice, and that admittedly makes you a little nervous. You went through the DARE program growing up where you’d been taught that all drugs will ruin your life and kill you. So while you never judge others for occasionally getting a little high, it does make you somewhat nervous that something bad could happen when they do.

You voice your concerns to them, and they talk you through what drugs they’ve tried, what it was like, and how they ensure their safety while under the influence. By the end you’re feeling better about everything.

But you notice one thing they left out.

“And what about weed?” You ask.

“What about it?” Mitch asks.

“What are you guys like when you smoke it? Eat it? Whatever you all do with pot,” you clarify.

“The boys prefer to smoke,” Sarah answers, “And I don’t like smoking, so I’ll have some edibles if I want to participate.”

“We all get pretty mellow,” Mitch says to answer your question.

“You can be more mellow?” You inquire jokingly, referring to his generally calm demeanor.

“He just sits there all smiley,” Harry says.

Sarah laughs and adds, “Yea, until he starts getting extra horny.”

You blush thinking about what that must be like and then ask, “What about you two? What are you guys like?”

“Sarah gets very giggly. And chatty,” Mitch answers. “And Harry gets the munchies.”

“Seriously?” You ask. Harry, the person in this relationship who is most regimented about what he eats and rarely ever snacks, gets the munchies?

“Oh, for sure,” Harry answers. “All bets are off when I’m high. Calories don’t count,” he finishes with a shrug.

“I wonder what I’d be like,” you say quietly.

“Y/N, do you want to try it? We’d all be with you, make sure nothing happens,” Sarah says.

You sit silently for a moment, debating what to say. This was another goal of yours for this conversation. You want to try getting high, especially with the three of them, who you trust more than anyone. You had been offered weed at a couple parties before, and always turned it down, nervous that something could go wrong. But here? With Sarah, and Mitch, and Harry? Well, that sounds like it could actually be fun.

You nod and say, “Yea, I kind of do want to try.”

“Okay,” Harry says. “We can make that happen.”

After that, the conversation turns to other topics as you finish eating and cleaning up breakfast. Harry spends a good chunk of the day writing. Mitch helps him but heads to the grocery store in the afternoon. Meanwhile, you and Sarah work in the garden, getting it ready to put in some new plants.

Happy with your progress for the day, you head inside to take a shower. When you’re done and dressed you walk down to the living room where Sarah, also freshly showered, and Harry and sitting together on the couch. You join them, sitting beside Harry. He talks a bit about what he worked on so far and then you finally hear the door opening, alerting you all that Mitch has returned from the store.

All three of you join him in the kitchen, helping to put the groceries away. You get to one bag that looks different from the others, like it came from a different store, but it still just seems to contain some different snacks, namely chocolates and some gummy candies. You get a closer look and notice the little leaf symbol on all of the packages.

“Uhm, Mitch? What is this?” You know what it is, or at least, you’re mostly sure, but it feels like a good idea to actually confirm.

He looks over to see what you’re holding and smirks before saying, “Well that would be weed. Figured it wouldn’t hurt to grab some after our talk this morning.”

“Can we try it?”

“Sure,” he replies.

“Tonight?” You ask.

“Are you sure?” Sarah confirms.

“I mean, it seems like a good time. We have a free weekend, which never happens. And I don’t want to overthink it more than I already have.”

“Ok,” Harry responds. “After dinner if you still want to then these will be our dessert,” he says, taking the bag of goodies from you and putting it in a cabinet, far away from the rest of the snacks.

“Sorry it’s only edibles,” Mitch says to Harry. “Sarah doesn’t smoke, and I didn’t think Y/N would either. And you don’t like smoking alone so, yea.”

“Are you not joining us?” Sarah asks.

“Not this time, I want to stay sober just in case.”

“Look at you, going into daddy mode,” Harry jokes.

There’s a flicker in Mitch’s eyes at that, something you’ve never seen before. “Haven’t heard that nickname in a long time,” Mitch says.

“You haven’t earned it,” Harry replies, tone definitely cheeky, and a little suggestive. You tuck the encounter away in your mind, making a note to ask them about whatever that just was at another time.

Now that everything seems to be decided, you turn to start making dinner. With the prospect of a new experience on the horizon you need to do something that’s familiar to you. Sarah helps you cook, and the boys clean up after.

Once everyone is in comfy clothes you meet up back in the living room. Mitch is holding the chocolate bar and gives you a look before asking, “Still want to try this?”

“I do,” you reply. You’re excited, even if you’re slightly nervous about how you might act or if you might say something stupid while under the influence.

“Alright,” he replies.

Mitch opens the package, breaking off three pieces and handing one to each of you. He then passes the rest to Harry, saying, “You might want one more in a bit. It’s a pretty low dose.”

You pop the chocolate in your mouth, a thrill going through you at doing something you’ve always been told was dangerous. It’s silly to feel this way, knowing now that the likelihood of this having any type of negative outcome is extremely slim, but it still feels almost reckless in an exciting way.

Nothing happens for a bit, but you expected that. Harry ends up taking one more piece, and you wonder if you should as well. Before you can even ask, Mitch says, “No more for you, give it time.”

Sarah adds, “It’ll kick in soon, trust me.”

And she isn’t wrong. You don’t notice it happening, but eventually you feel different. Your body feels kind of tingly, and you’re smiling but you don’t really know why.

The next thing you know, you and Sarah are discussing the garden at length. The area you have set aside is totally not big enough. You need way more space so you can grow veggies and berries and like, three orange trees so you can make your own orange juice every morning. Harry gets up no less than five times to retrieve snacks from the kitchen and you discover you’re actually starving, which is weird because wasn’t dinner an hour ago? You’re never hungry so soon after a meal.

Some more time apparently passes, and you and Sarah are now laughing at a story Harry’s telling about his craziest fan encounter.

Suddenly you remember a comment from earlier and turn to Mitch. He’s sitting next to you on the couch, completely entertained by the antics of the three of you and doesn’t miss when your attention focuses on him.

When you don’t say anything for over a minute he gives you a confused look and says, “Can I help you?”

“Why did Harry call you daddy earlier?” You ask.

At this question both Mitch and Harry blush. BLUSH. You don’t think you’ve ever seen that before.

Mitch looks at your doe eyed, innocent expression and thinks for a minute how he’s going to explain this to you. He sometimes forgets that all your sexual experience has been with him, and there’s a lot you’re unfamiliar with. Sure, the fact that you have sex with three people at once might seem adventurous, but the sex you all have tends to be mostly very vanilla. Mitch watches your inquisitive expression as he figures out the best way to explain daddy kinks and dom/sub dynamics to you.

He decides to start by asking you, “Have you heard of daddy kinks before?”

Your eyes go wide as you realize that this is going down a sexual route. Sarah starts giggling next to you at your reaction and you pout before saying, “Don’t laugh at me, you know I was sheltered!”

“I don’t mean to, you’re just so adorable when you're all shocked and naive,” she replies.

Sarah then shifts on the couch so she’s laying sideways, her back against the armrest. She pulls you to her, so your back is against her chest. Mitch slides closer and Harry takes the seat next to him. You and Sarah both stretch out your legs over Mitch’s lap until your feet rest on Harry. You feel all warm inside, getting to be in contact with all three of them.

“Sorry for laughing,” Sarah says quietly in your ear. “You know how much we love teaching you new things.” You shutter involuntarily at her suggestive tone. She wraps her arms around your middle as Mitch says, “You never answered my question.”

“There was a question?” You say and start giggling. You search your fuzzy brain, trying to remember what he asked you, then trying to remember what you guys were even talking about.

“I asked you if you knew what a Daddy kink is,” he says, watching you closely in case you had another entertaining reaction.

This time your face goes serious, and Mitch can literally see the wheels turning in your mind as you come up with an answer.

After a literal minute of thinking you reply with a decisive, “No.”

“Okay. So, a common misconception is that someone with a daddy kink has daddy issues. And that could be the case for some people but that’s not really what it is. It’s about power dynamics. Like one person gives over control to the other person. And the one with control would be considered daddy.”

“Mitch, that was a fucking terrible explanation,” Harry says. “Y/N, did that make sense to you?”

“Not really, no.”

Sarah decides to take over and says, “Do you remember the night after one of the Wembley shows when we teased you on the ride home?” You immediately remember what she’s talking about and a shutter of pleasure runs through your body at the memory. “And when we got back to the room we edged you even more and wouldn’t let you come? And then made you come multiple times until you passed out?”

“Holy shit,” Harry says. “Why have I never asked about things you did before I joined? Fuck, that sounds hot.”

You blush at the memory and Sarah continues, saying, “That night, Mitch and I had the power. We were in control of your pleasure. You trusted us to take care of you. That’s what a dom/sub dynamic is about. And there’s different titles that doms go by, like sir and ma’am or daddy and mommy. Depends on personal preference.”

“And Mitch prefers daddy?” You ask. He huffs out a laugh and looks visibly flustered at this question, so you say, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Oh, he for sure prefers daddy,” Harry adds. “The first time I let it slip out, he came instantaneously.” Your body starts to heat up and you squirm in Sarah’s lap as Harry continues, “I’d asked him to restrain me and just take what he wanted. He went full daddy mode and didn’t even realize. One of the hottest things I’ve ever experienced.”

You can’t sit still any longer, so you move, your limbs uncoordinated due to the drugs and lust clouding your mind, but you finally succeed in straddling Mitch’s lap.

“I wanna do that,” you say.

“Do what exactly?” Mitch presses.

“I dunno. Everything. Anything you guys want to do. I want to give up control,” you answer.

“Darling, I don’t think you’ve ever been in control in bed,” Sarah says with another giggle.

“Okay but like, I wanna do it legit. Please, daddy?” You say with puppy dog eyes looking right at Mitch.

He groans, and you think you’re getting your way, so you move to kiss him and grind down in his lap. His hands grip your waist and frustratingly, they stop your movements.

“Look at me, baby,” he says, and your eyes dart back to meet his. “We can try it, but not now.”

“Why not?” You whine.

“Because you’re high and can’t fully consent. We all have to be sober to do this the right way. And there’s a lot we need to talk about first. We need to discuss limits, safe words, things like that. Okay?”

“Fine. But I won’t forget this.”

“Trust me babe, neither will I,” he replies, nipping at your ear and you give him a dirty look for teasing you.

“Now, why don’t we watch a movie?” Mitch suggests.

“Emperor's New Groove!” You immediately shout.

“What’s that one about?” Harry asks.

“Seriously? You’ve never seen it?” He shakes his head no and you look at the other two who confirm they’d never watched it either.

“NONE of you have seen Emperor's New Groove? That’s a fucking travesty.” They all burst into laughter since you never curse but this seems to be high enough stakes to earn the explicit word.

“We are watching it. Right now.” You jump off the couch, stumbling across the room to grab the remote. You plop back into Sarah’s lap, legs outstretched over the boys, and concentrate on putting the movie on.

Before you press play you say, “I have one very important question.”

“And what would that be, love?” Harry asks.

“Are there more snacks?”

Without a word he gets up and makes a trip to the kitchen, bringing back an assortment of treats.

You grab some of the chocolates and start the movie.

You’re all a giggling mess watching the movie, and you’re starting to get very sleepy by the time it’s over. Mitch has his work cut out for him, rounding the three of you up and helping you all get ready for bed. You cooperate with brushing your teeth and washing your face, but refuse to put pants on, arguing that it’s too warm and all you want is one of Harry’s t-shirts. You also refuse to walk from the bathroom to the bedroom, and Mitch steps in before Sarah can try picking you up while she’s still unsteady herself.

You’re basically dead weight in Mitch’s arms, and you laugh uncontrollably when he gently throws you onto the mattress. The night ends with all four of you together in bed, exchanging “I love you” back and forth repeatedly.

You fall asleep on top of Mitch, and he thinks back to how the evening went. He can’t help but smile at the fact that high Y/N is basically a combination of the other three when high. You laugh and talk uncontrollably like Sarah, snack like Harry, and get a bit more horny than usual like Mitch.

And he certainly won’t forget the conversation you’d had any time soon. He hopes the rest of you won’t either. As he strokes your hair and looks fondly at Sarah and Harry sleeping at his sides, he feels like today was a perfect day. And he can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Thank you so much for reading! Requests are open so if you want to see anything specific, let me know!

Taglist: @akkatz @pandeebearstyles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite@theekyliepage@numafarawayglxy @booberry019-blog @hillzrry@ssareidbby @gem1712 @acesofspadess@houseofdilfs@shaquille-0atmeal-1@kissitnhekitchen @amateurduck @poguestyleskye@n0vaj3an@snwells@drunk-teens-doing-drugs ; @fdl305@creativelyeva@daphnesutton@selluequestrian@lovingfurypanda @stardream14 @tbsloneely@eversincehs1@boomitsallie1@rose-garden-dreamz @fictionalmensblog @buckybarnessimpp

#harry styles x reader #mitch rowland x harry styles #mitch rowland x reader #mitch rowland x sarah jones x reader #sarah jones x reader #sarah jones x mitch rowland x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you

[hearts-hunger]

a sure and steady hand

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Standalone in the Cabin Fever universe

Summary: Josh comes home sick, and you take good care of him.

Pairings: Josh x Reader | Genre: fluff, sickfic | Word Count: 2k | Warnings: none!

A/N: More Josh and Baby! Thanks to everyone who shared their cuddly Josh pics today — they were my "research" for this fic :3 I hope you like it! ♡

You woke to a tangle of blankets and a very warm boyfriend. 

Propping yourself up on the pillows, you did your best not to wake him as you gently tried to disentangle yourself from him. He was snuggled so close that he was practically on top of you, and while you didn’t mind his closeness, he was awfully warm to the touch. You brushed his soft curls back from his face and weren’t surprised to see how flushed his cheeks were. 

Josh was always been a furnace, no matter the weather, and you felt that it suited him: it seemed like the light and comfort of his personality couldn’t help but show in rosy cheeks and warm, gentle hands. During the winter months, he was always happy to share a little of his warmth with you, and you’d fallen asleep in his arms the night before, thankful for the heat radiating from him as you pressed close under the covers. 

His temperature now, though, was starting to feel more like a fever. It was especially noticeable with the snow falling gently outside the window, highlighting the chill of your bedroom in your beautiful old house and the warmth of Josh’s face pressed against your neck.

You brushed your thumb over his cheek. “Joshy.”

He only cuddled closer to you. “Five more minutes,” he mumbled.

You smiled. “It’s okay, honey,” you said softly. “You need to sleep. Do you want me to call the boys and let them know?”

His expression scrunched then, and he lifted his head just enough to give you a sleepy, confused look.

“Let them know what?” he asked. His voice was gravelly, and he cleared his throat. “Am I late? What time is it?”

Without waiting for an answer, he reached over you to grab his phone from the nightstand.

“Might as well get up,” he said, giving you a wry smile. “Unless you want to try and squeeze some more sleep out of the seven minutes we have until my alarm goes off.”

You touched a hand to his back when he sat up. “Do you feel okay?”

He looked over his shoulder, a little distracted. “Yeah. Why?”

“You feel warm.” You touched your hand to the back of his neck, and a sweet little giggle bubbled out of him as he moved away from your hand.

“Quit that,” he laughed, and it quickly dissolved into a few crackly coughs. “Your fingers are freezing, baby.”

“Sorry,” you said. You sat up next to him. “I think you should stay home.”

He smiled. “Why, because you want me to stay in bed with you all day?”

You couldn’t say the thought hadn’t crossed your mind, but mostly you felt like he should stay home to rest.

“Let me take your temperature,” you said, getting out of bed to get the thermometer. He followed you to the bathroom, and you thought he was coming willingly to get his temperature checked until he started to brush his teeth. You looked around in the drawers for your thermometer gun but couldn’t find it.

“What’re you looking for?” he asked around his toothbrush.

“Thermometer,” you answered.

He rinsed his mouth out. “I don’t have a fever, baby. I told you I feel fine.”

You abandoned your search for the thermometer and put a hand to his forehead. “But you’re really warm, honey.”

“I run hot, you know that.” He pulled your hand down and kissed your palm. “I promise I feel fine, sweetheart. Thank you for worrying, but you don’t have to.”

He went to get dressed, sifting through his wardrobe for a few moments only to pick his trusty white sweatshirt and khakis. He shivered when he took his pajama shirt off and replaced it quickly with his sweatshirt.

“This house is like a meat locker,” he said, coming over to you to give you a hug. “I kinda wish I was staying home with you and snuggling all day.”

You put your arms around his neck and rested your cheek against his shoulder, watching the snow collect on the windowsill. He still felt overly warm, but you knew there was no use trying to get him to stay home. Josh was nothing if not dedicated to his work, and you knew that him admitting to wanting to stay home was a gentle reminder to you that he was still going to work but was thankful for your worry.

You kissed his cheek. “Come home if you start to feel bad, okay?” you asked. “Promise.”

“I promise, baby.” He gave you a tight squeeze. “I’ll see you after a while. I love you.”

You gave him a gentle smile. “Love you too.”

Snow continued to fall all day, piling up in a beautiful powder across your yard; you ventured out to turn on your Christmas lights when it started to get dark, and your house looked like a gingerbread house bedecked in candy and frosting at the end of your long driveway. Though the snow kept you inside most of the day, you did run to the store to stock up on cough drops, NyQuil, and Josh’s favorite tea. You made soup for dinner, knowing it would be the perfect meal for such a cold night and still convinced that Josh would need some homespun doctoring when he got home from work.

You saw you were right as soon as he came in from the car. You opened the door and meant to greet him when he came up, but he stopped at the top of the porch stairs; after a moment, he ducked his head with a harsh sneeze, and a fine dusting of snow fell from his curls with the movement.

“Goodness, bless you,” you said. "Come inside, honey. You’re covered in snow.”

“Sorry,” he croaked, his voice shot. He let you brush his jacket off on the porch before you helped him out of it, and no sooner was it off than he turned away from you to muffle a volley of congested coughs in his sleeve.

“Sorry,” he said again. He sounded terrible, and you guessed he’d probably pushed his voice to the limit trying to keep pace with the boys in the studio.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” you said gently. You hung up his jacket and were surprised to hear him give a hoarse laugh.

“What’s so funny?” you asked, unable to help a smile yourself.

He shook his head. “Nothing. I’m just waiting for you to say ‘I told you so’.”

“Aw, honey.” You gave him a hug, and he buried his face in the crook of your neck. “I wasn’t going to say that. I’m just sorry you’re sick.”

“I should have stayed home, like you said.”

“You didn’t get a lot done?” You hated the thought that he’d gone in when he felt bad and hadn’t even gotten done the things he’d been planning on.

He lifted his head. “Actually, we did a ton,” he said. His smile was lopsided. “You should have heard me sing, baby. My voice sounded fantastic with it all hoarse and deep like this.”

“I bet it did,” you said truthfully, a little wry. Though you wished he wasn’t sick, you couldn’t deny that the raspy edge to his voice was alluring; you’d heard him sing coming off a cold before, and you’d been surprised how much you’d liked it.

You gave him a quick kiss. “But you’re going to lose your voice if you’re not careful,” you reminded him. “Which means you’re on vocal rest until I say so.”

He chuckled, and the sound was warm and gravelly. “Yes ma’am.”

You led him into the kitchen, having him sit at the table while you fixed him a bowl of soup and a mug of tea.

“Thank you,” he said, looking up at you with a glassy, exhausted, completely devoted gaze. You couldn’t stop yourself from cradling his face in your hands and giving him a gentle kiss, and you felt his smile when you did.

“What was that for?” he asked.

You brushed his curls back. “No reason. I just love you lots, that’s all.”

“Aw, baby,” he said tenderly. “I love you lots too. Thank you for taking care of me.”

It was your pleasure to take care of him, and you showed it by showering him with the affection and care he always gave you when you were sick. You put his pajamas in the dryer to warm them up; you brought him medicine; while he got a shower, you put on another kettle and set up the couch with a nest of pillows and blankets so you could watch a movie together. You wished there was more you could do, but he was a good patient and really wanted nothing more than for you to be close.

“Where are you going?” he asked when he was settled. His curls were tight and damp, his cheeks rosy, his hands wrapped around the mug to get all the warmth he could; he looked up at you pitifully, worrying you weren’t going to join him on the couch.

“Just to get into my pajamas,” you said as he bottled a few coughs in his chest. “And to get you some Vick’s. Pick out what you want to watch, okay?”

You changed into sweatpants and an old tee of Josh’s, grabbing the vapor rub and the box of tissues from the bathroom before you came back to the living room. Josh looked a little sheepish as the movie started, and you smiled at the familiar jaunty banjo tune and the voice of Kermit the Frog that started Emmet Otter’s Jug-Band Christmas.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

“We can watch whatever you want,” you reminded him. “And you know I love this one anyway.”

He smiled up at you as you came close, and his cheeks took on an even deeper color as you straddled his lap.

“Um, baby...”

“Settle down, cowboy,” you said with an affectionate laugh. “I’m just putting your medicine on. Hold still.”

He was patient and pliant as you rubbed the Vick’s on his chest and neck, giving a contented little groan of relief when you massaged your fingers over his sore muscles. 

“That feels so good, baby,” he said when you pressed your fingers down the line from his neck to his shoulder.

“I'm glad it’s helping, my heart.”

He looked up at you with a dreamy smile. “Call me that again.”

You kissed him. “I love you, my heart. My sweet Joshua.”

His hands gripped your hips gently, and you both lost yourself for a few minutes until he had to pull away with stuttered breaths.

“Sorry, I — ”

He caught a sneeze in the crook of his arm and groaned. “Ugh, why does it hurt to sneeze?”

“You poor thing,” you said with a tender laugh. You climbed off of him and handed him a tissue from the box on the coffee table. “Bless you.”

“Thanks.” He sighed and pressed his free hand to his temple, warding off a headache. “I wish I didn’t feel terrible. I’d just kiss you all night if I didn’t feel like I was going to drop dead any second.”

“So dramatic,” you teased, pulling the blanket over both of you and snuggling close. “Let’s take a rain check for when you’re feeling better.”

You could tell he was tired, and you watched with mingled amusement and affection as he tried to stay awake as the movie played. He rested his head on your chest, and you played with his hair as you sang softly along with the movie — “Thus the winds of time will take us, with a sure and steady hand, when the river meets the sea.”

“I like it when you sing, baby,” he said, his voice soft and hoarse. 

You smiled. “I like singing for you, Josh.”

He cuddled closer to you, seeking warmth and comfort that you were only too happy to give.

“You know John Denver sings this song?” he asked, half asleep.

“I do,” you said. “You got me that album for Christmas last year.”

His smile was drowsy. “Maybe we should do a Christmas album with the Muppets.”

You gave a soft laugh. “Maybe you should.”

You pulled the blanket up over his shoulders and tucked it snugly around him. He snored softly as he dozed, congested and content to let his body rest and heal; you lay with him and held him, loving when he curled his arm around you to get as close as he could be.

“Thank you for taking care of me, baby,” he said just before he fell asleep. “I love you.”

You kissed his soft curls. “You’re welcome, Josh. I love you too.”   

josh taglist: @way-to-go-lad @prophetofthedune @stardustchxrds @bajabule69 @high-fidelity1 @grimm-gvf @gretnavannfleet @sunnykiszka

gvf taglist:@malany-gvf@spark-my-nature@eearevee@madneedshelp@demonrat444@josh-iamyour-mama@honeyandsweettae@mydarlingdanny@gretavandann@sacredjake@myleftsock@joshskittytickler21@hellowgoodbye@watchingovergvf2@fearfulspirit@mywaysoon@carbondancingthroughtime@caprisunsister@eraofstardustchords@sacredthefran@shesawomaninadream @serendipiti @demonrat444@wildflowerxx-x@tearsofdanny @iluvjoshkiszka @jordie-gvf-admin@demolitionndann@hi-hi-hello11@wildbluesorbit@nessie-glorpa@laneygvf

@gvfrry@ohhey1293@the-chaotic-cow@mountain-in-springtime@xserenax-13@stardustjtk @brooke-gvf@weightofdreams-gvf@jakeydoesit@gretasmokerising@hayley1623@doodle417@finestoflines@brokenbellz@bowievanfleet@s0livagant@strugglingtodoshit@s-u-t@kay-jordan@gretavanfleas@jakeyboiiiiiii@gretavansteph@gretavanbitches@myownparadise96@luverleaver@weightofdreamz@greatervanfleet@maedesculpaeusoubi@jakekiszkasbestie@pineapple-photographer@baguettejuliette@alexxavicry@levi-wants-ur-bones@carlybubs@cowboysamkiszka@dannyandthekiszkas@jordierama@slutforsteve@starshine-wagner@quartzzzzzzz@edgeofdreams@writingcold@lostoverseer@catharu77@mackalah@jaketlove @haileygvf @blacksoul-27 @ur-m0ms-blog@hi-hi-hello11@wildbluesorbit @nessie-glorpa @laneygvf@madneedshelp@dreamsingxld

#okay i actually really like this one and i hope you do too! <3 #josh kiszka fanfiction #josh kiszka fluff #gvf fanfiction #greta van fleet fanfiction #josh x baby #cabin fever fics #maddie writes stuff!

[halfmoth-halfman]

chamomile kisses

Pairing: Kyle “Gaz” Garrick x GN!Reader Word Count: 1.1k Warnings: illness, guns, fluff Prompt: Taking Care Of Each Other & "Are you wearing my shirt?" Disclaimer: I do not own modern warfare or any of the modern warfare characters. A/N: next up, a little sickfic for @glitterypirateduck’s GazFest 2023 💜

It’s a ritual the two of you have.

When he gets back from a mission, Kyle sends you a text before he has to disappear into a plethora of debriefs, and you spend an entire day getting ready for him to come home.

It’s nothing extravagant, not wanting to overwhelm him after what is usually months of intense action. More often it’s a home-cooked meal, hot shower, and a night spent watching his favorite childhood movies in bed while you tell him about all of the “excitement” of civilian life. It’s simple, but an easy change from the blood and gunfire that always threatens to follow him home. 

It’s something he starts looking forward to the moment he steps onto base. Stress melts from his shoulders when he pictures your smiling face, the feel of your skin, the taste of your lips. It’s hard to keep the smile from his face as you flood his thoughts, and Price has caught him grinning to himself like an idiot on more than one occasion.

Which is why he feels a small, creeping concern when you don’t text him back. He tries not to let it bother him, telling himself you’re just busy getting ready for him. He talks himself through deep breaths the entire drive to the house, assuring himself that you’re perfectly fine and safe.

His heart is gripped with ice when he walks into a completely dark house with you nowhere in sight. He tries to calm himself, taking deep, steadying breaths as he shifts into Sergeant Garrick and searches the ground floor of the house. 

The doors and windows are locked, no signs of a break-in. Your shoes are by the front door, the fridge is fully stocked, and your bag is sitting safely on the counter. 

Panic seizes in his chest, and Kyle reaches under the sink to grab one of the various handguns hidden around the house. He rushes up the stairs two steps at a time, heading straight for the bedroom. 

The bedroom door is cracked, but there’s no light coming from inside. 

Kyle creeps toward the door, reaching out a hand to lightly push the door open. The bedroom is dark, the curtains closed so no light can reach inside. He blinks twice, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness as he scans the room. He spots you, a huddled lump on the bed buried beneath a pile of blankets with one of your arms hanging off the side of the bed. 

He hears you breathing, but it’s shallow and hoarse, more wheeze than inhale. There’s no immediate danger, and that thought is enough to lessen the anxiety in his chest. He moves quietly, careful not to disturb you, as he sets his gun on the dresser and toes off his boots before making his way to your side of the bed.

There’s a collection of mugs on your nightstand, interspersed with half-empty bottles of painkillers and cold medicine. Your phone is hanging off the corner, dead to the world just like you. 

Sympathy courses through him, and he leans down to lay a delicate kiss to your cheek before he starts collecting the mugs. He quietly carries them down to the kitchen, leaving them in the sink while he gets to work on making you a fresh mug of chamomile and ginger tea. 

When he finally returns to the bedroom, the light is on and you’re sitting up, one hand cradling your head while the other rubs sleep from your eyes. His eyes rake over your disheveled state, hair a mess, eyes swollen, and a familiar shirt hanging off of one shoulder.

“Are you wearing my shirt?” he laughs softly, watching the way your eyes widen in surprise as your head snaps to him. 

“Ky-le?”

Kyle winces at the rough state of your voice, hurrying to offer you the steaming mug in his hands. You take it with a thankful smile, holding the mug close to your nose to take a deep inhale of its scent. 

Kyle kisses your cheek again, waiting until you’ve taken a sip to begin undressing. He changes into a t-shirt and sweatpants–something more casual, more comfortable, than the jeans and hoodie he’d worn from base–and crawls into bed next to you.

He sits next to you, his side pressing into yours as he runs a soothing hand down your back. You lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder, and he takes the initiative to slide his arm under your knees to pull your legs across his lap. 

Neither of you speaks as you settle against him, eyes sliding shut at the warmth that surrounds you.

“Don’t sleep until you’ve finished that,” Kyle softly chides, tapping on the tilting mug in your hands. You open your eyes with a quiet groan, lifting your head to pout up at him. 

“Is it too hot?” he asks, not letting you answer as he wraps a hand around yours and brings the mug up to his lips to take a testing sip. It’s a little hot, maybe too hot for your throat–

He stumbles as you pull one of your hands away, nearly dropping the mug. Before he can question it, you place your hand on his cheek and turn his face, leaning up to press your lips to his. It’s a brief kiss, but far from chaste as you run your tongue along his tea-soaked lips before pulling away. 

“Much better,” you rasp, a playful, mischievous smirk across your face as you lick the remnants of chamomile and ginger from your lips. 

“Cheeky thing,” Kyle laughs, the hand on your back sliding down to pinch your hip. You’d worry he was annoyed, but he leans in and pecks at your lips two more times before leaning back against the headboard. 

You get comfortable against him, working your way through the tea while you fight back sleep. The tea is almost done when you lose the fight, eyes sliding shut as your head droops against Kyle’s chest. He carefully pries the mug from your hands, setting it aside so it won’t spill.

He’s gentle as he grabs two blankets from your pile, trying not to jostle you as he pulls them over the two of you. You snuggle into the warmth almost immediately, and Kyle feels his heart skip a beat. 

Usually, this is when you’d help him decompress, overload him with stories about boring, everyday stuff to keep his mind from wandering until he falls asleep. But now, with you tucked against his chest sleeping peacefully, Kyle finds himself calmer than ever. It’s amazing how much your mere presence has the ability to soothe him, even sick like this. You don’t have to do anything special–you’ve never had to–for him to be taken with you. 

Having you near, close enough to hold, knowing you’re safe and sound in his arms, is enough for him. 

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