Tumgik
#sicktember day 9
nurse-buckley · 2 years
Text
Sicktember Day 9 - Home Remedy
Fandom: 9-1-1  Pairing: Buck x Reader Word Count: 789 words  Prompt: @sicktember Day 9 - Home Remedy  Tagslist: @firemedicdiaz @fireladybuckley @winterreader-nowwriter @iamasimpingh0e @dayrin085 @hauntedmilkshakeghost @floralbuckleys @writingmysanity  If you want to be added or removed from my tagslist, please let me know!  Authors Note: Is this me early posting (for me at least) for once? I have now officially finished my presentation so hopefully more regular posting - I am also going to be clearing my ask box and getting through my prompts missed during the big depression! Thank you @firemedicdiaz for having a quick glance at this, I hope you feel better soon love <3
You hate the feeling of migraines, but at the same time, when one hits, you can't remember a time before them. The pain is agonising, overtaking every one of your senses. Everything is too bright. Noises too loud. Movements causing the already dizzying nausea to worsen tenfold. 
“Babe?” Buck calls out softly as he enters his apartment, squinting in the dim light to spot any sign of you. He knew you were no stranger to migraines and judging by the darkness and eerie silence that fell upon the loft, he guessed that is what was happening. 
With no sign of you, he makes his way quietly up the stairs towards the bedroom, seeing you bundled under the duvet and your head buried into the pillows. 
You feel the bed dip as Buck perches on the bed next to you, even that gentle movement was nauseating. He places a gentle hand on top of where he guesses your hip is under the covers, before softly uttering the word, “migraine?” 
“Yeah,” you reply, just loud enough for him to hear you from beneath the cocoon you’d wrapped yourself in, whining as even the slightest movement causes the pain radiating from deep within your head to throb even more. 
“Have you taken anything for it?” Buck asks again, being mindful to keep his voice low. 
You chance coming out of the safety of blankets, thankful that Buck has kept the light off, “no…I feel too nauseous. Plus, nothing touches it, just gotta ride it out…” you whisper your reply. 
“I think I might have something that could help,” you feel him shift from the bed and move into the bathroom. 
You can see he’s carrying something, but you’re not sure of what in the dim light of the loft. He comes to kneel by your bedside, “do you trust me?” 
There was no doubt in your mind anything Buck did would make the pain any worse, so with nothing to lose you slowly nod your head. 
“Alright, I need you to shift around for me.” He guides you with a hand at the small of your back, helping to ease you down onto a pillow he’d laid out in front of him, so he has better access to your head. 
“I did a little research after your last migraine and read that lavender oil and a head massage can work wonders,” he explains as he pops the cap from the small amber bottle and warms a few drops between his palms. 
You wrinkle your nose, preparing for the overwhelming floral smell you’d encountered with some essential oils before, but are pleased to find the scent isn’t strong at all. 
“Alright, just relax and if it gets too much, just let me know.” 
You take a deep breath and close your eyes, feeling safe in Buck’s capable hands. Buck had given you massages before, but nothing prepared you for the pure bliss you felt as his touch gave you some relief, easing away the tension that had built up around your head, neck and shoulders. 
He places his middle and index fingers on your temples and begins to massage the area in a circular motion with just enough pressure to counter the pressure you were feeling from the migraine, causing you to let out a low groan. The feeling of relief only grows as he moves down to your chin, gently stroking his fingers up from your jaw towards your temples again. 
You hiss slightly as he moves his hands again, adding slight pressure with his thumbs along your eyebrows, right above where the pain is radiating from. 
“I’m sorry,” Buck apologises, moving his hands away. 
You make a move to grab his hands, placing them back over your head, “Nooo,” you whine, “don’t stop…feels good.” 
He continues on, moving towards you neck and back, turning your head gently to the side cupping your neck with his hands and using his thumb to work out the knots deep within the tissue. You feel him working into the area at the base of your skull, rubbing small circular motions, before moving back to the rest of your head, slow circular motions, gently scratching your scalp. 
Between Buck’s skilled hands and the relaxing scent of lavender you begin to relax more and more, the tension leaving your body along with the majority of the migraine pain. He finishes the massage, rubbing his hands together, warming a little more oil, before he places both his hands covering your forehead and eyes. 
The gentle pressure he’s applying feels wonderful, “Buck…”  
“Yeah?” he whispers his reply. 
“I am going to need you to do this again and again when I’m feeling better…because this was amazing. Thank you.” 
“Anytime.”
185 notes · View notes
fletcherwilbury · 8 months
Text
@sicktember Day 9: Alt Prompt 5: "I'm so sorry..."
Warning for Illness, past injury, eye infection, seizures, past trauma, ambulance mention, hospital mention
11 notes · View notes
faofinn · 8 months
Text
9. White Coat Syndrome
Holidays were a rare treat for the Cunningham-Cole crew. Both Taidgh and Harrisons jobs were difficult for raising a family, but they refused to let it get in the way. Each day out was precious, even a few hours at the park, a walk to feed the ducks, the tiny things that meant the world to both dads.
With the kids old enough to actually be a contender in races, Harrison often brought his running blade to join in - he wasn’t going to let Tai have the fun. So that's where they found themselves on a warm Sunday morning, charging around the park like idiots. They'd planned to stay the day, picnic packed and ready. Levi was old enough to join in, though he didn't always undenal the rules of whichever game they were playing, occasionally ending up in tears. 
Frisbee was easy enough, so they eventually moved onto that. The park was quiet enough, though the hum of other families laughter carried across the air.  Even Harrison's laughs carried across, Alfie having his life and loving it. Scout was just as bad as them, haring around the park and herding his family. 
Tai loved their weekend days out, when the whole family could mess around together. It was a warm day, the sun shining over the grass. The kids were rowdy, on their last few weeks of school holidays, and it had been good to get out of the house. He’d been haring about with them that morning, trying to catch up with the kids, but his knee had twinged and he’d ended up sat on the picnic blanket watching them play Frisbee, Scout rushing madly between them as he tried to catch it mid-air. He let them play for a while, before his stomach growled at him and he couldn’t ignore the food he was sat next to any longer. 
“Hars! Kids! Come on, lunch! I’m starving to death over here!” He called. 
They raced over, Scout leading the way with his bounding strides. The boys were close behind, but Harrison lagged slightly, his own leg starting to ache.
Harrison settled by Tai, wrapping an arm around his waist as he pressed a kiss to his cheek, the pair like lovesick teenagers. Of course, the kids made their displeasure known, a quiet chorus of gross as they laughed. 
Tai leaned into Hars, grinning at the kids. “You’ll get it when you’re older.”
"Ew, no! It's gross!" Kieran laughed, his nose scrunched. 
“You’ll get a kiss too, if you’re not careful!” Tai teased, reaching out for him. 
"No! Alfie, help!" Kieran wriggled away, shouting and laughing. 
“I’ll get you both!” Tai said, as Alfie piled in, and Scout tried to join in too, barking and hopping excitedly. 
Harrison sat back with a smile, looking proudly on at the chaos he'd created. He grabbed a sandwich while the others were distracted, sneaking Levi a piece of cheese his youngest had been eyeing up. 
Eventually the chaos died down, the twins and Tai flopping back on the blanket breathless and grinning. He reached for the food, grabbing a sandwich. 
As the kids dug in, Harrison nudged Tai's thigh. "Hey."
“Hey, you okay?”
"More worried about you. I saw you twist it."
“Just a little twinge, I just didn’t want to do any more damage to it."
Harrison rubbed his thigh. "Are you in pain?"
“Not now I’m sat down.”
"Are you sure?"
“Yeah, it’s not bad. I just didn’t want to be haring around on it and making it all swollen. If they don’t do this op tomorrow I’m going to have a breakdown.”
Harrison hummed, fingers trailing over skin. "Yeah, I know."
“Are you sure work are okay with your time off?”
"As if I'd give them a choice."
“And Steve’s okay with having the kids?”
"He's looking forward to it."
“Mm, okay.” He said, and kissed his cheek again.
Harrison reached a hand to cup his cheek, tilting his face up to kiss him properly. His thumb stroked his cheek as he pulled back. "It's going to be okay. I love you."
Tai smiled. “Love you too.”
He quickly pressed a kiss to Tai's nose before moving to lean against him and reaching for his can of pop. "You know I'll be there for you, whatever you need."
“Pass me another sandwich?” He asked cheekily. 
"What's the magic word?" He teased, dangling it out of reach. 
“Mm, please?”
Harrison grinned. "Nope."
“Hey!”
"You gotta say the magic word!"
“Please is the magic word!”
"Nope!"
“Come on!” He whined, kissing him on the cheek again.
Harrison's resolve cracked. "It's a good job I love you."
“And I love you too.”
Their day was heaven, a picnic in the warmth followed by more stupid games after they’d eaten. Eventually, though, they headed home, all of them just completely shattered. It was a job to corral sleepy kids to bed, Tai and Hars exhausted themselves. Scout had spent the evening sprawled out asleep on the rug in the living room, looking like they felt. 
Even Tai and Hars had headed to bed early that night, aware they were up early the next morning. They fell asleep with Tai’s head resting on Harrison’s shoulder, warm and comfortable. When their alarm went off the next morning, Tai just snuggled up against him, refusing to move. 
He was eventually coaxed out of bed and got dressed, enjoying the last glass of water he was allowed. Steve arrived to look after the boys, and after some hugs and fuss, the pair of them headed to the hospital. It was weird, driving their familiar commute for something other than work. 
Harrison knew Tai was stressed. He could feel it a mile away. Of course, he was worried too, not just for the operation, but his recovery and everything that came with it. The operation itself was rubbing a little too close to home for Harrison, having had so many himself. It was the right leg, too, which only stirred up more emotions for him. He shook his head to clear his mind, taking Tai's hand as they headed in. 
Tai squeezed his hand gratefully, heading through the doors into the day surgery unit. It was unfamiliar, which was both good and bad, but he signed in at the desk and then it was a waiting game, his left leg bouncing anxiously. 
"You've got your bag, you've got stuff for after, some juice and some throat sweets." Harrison murmured, mainly to himself. "And you've got your sweets for emergencies, and I put an extra juice box in for you, too. I've got the insulin and I'll give it to the nurses when we get there."
Tai glanced over at him. “What would I do without you?”
"Probably be a lot less stressed." He admitted with a laugh. 
“A lot more stressed, more like.” 
"Mm, maybe."
“Got you to look after me.”
"I'll always look after you."
“Yeah.” Tai said, moving to rest his head on his shoulder. 
"Sickness and in health. All that bullshit." He pressed a kiss to his hair. "And anyway, we've got the kids. I can't manage them alone."
“You could.”
"I wouldn't."
“I hope they’re okay with Steve.”
"I think it's the other way round." Harrison managed to joke. "I think dad's gonna regret offering."
“Probably, they’re nightmares.”
"I can't even stand up for them. I know I should." He said sagely, trying to keep a straight face.
“They’re feral, but hopefully yesterday tired them out enough.”
"I hope so. Scout was bloody knackered, bless him."
“Looked how I felt.” Tai agreed. It wasn’t long before they called him through, and he gripped Harrison’s hand as he stood. All he wanted was to go home, but that wasn’t possible. They asked him to change, and they’d be back for obs and things. He hesitated, looking at his fiancé. “Can I just sack this off and we just go home?”
"Don't be daft." He shook his head, though wanted nothing more than to do the same. "You need this sorted. Just think, this time tomorrow, all the operations and stuff will be done. And you'll only have the physio to do."
He pulled a face. “Even worse.”
"What, you're not looking forward to physio?" He feigned shock.
“Nobody looks forward to physio, knob.” He shot back.
"And after all the shit you gave me?"
“I’m allowed to give you shit, we’re getting married. Besides, I’m already doing physio.”
"Yeah, well, I'm doing a physio."
He snorted. “That’s a terrible joke. Can we go home? I don’t want to do this.”
"No, we can't." Harrison sighed. "And I'm not being a dick, but you need to take a few deep breaths, try and relax as much as you can. I can feel your anxiety from over here, and it's not gonna help you."
He forced himself to take a breath, his lips pressed tightly together. His shoulders slumped as he let it out, reaching for Harrison. “I hate hospitals.”
Harrison stood, moving to wrap his arms around his fiance. "I know, I know. I've got you."
He leaned into him, taking another deep breath and focusing on the smell of him, washing powder and aftershave and something that was just him. Some of the tension drained from his shoulders, his body softening against Harrison’s. 
"That's it, well done." He praised, kissing his forehead. "Another slow breath.'
He nodded. “Feel all sick and anxious.” He admitted. 
"I know, I know. It's fucking shit." He soothed. "But you'll get all the good drugs soon, get a nice little nap, and you'll wake up with your leg sorted."
“I’m such a baby, jesus.” 
Harrison couldn't help his smile. "I know it's the wrong time and all that, but I really love your accent."
“Piss off.” He grumbled good-naturedly. “It gets softer all the time, being stuck here with you.”
"We should go across, once you're better. I'm sure your mum would appreciate it."
“She would, it’s been too long since she’s seen the boys.”
"Tell you what, Christmas? Steve said he'd come too, we'll go over for the two weeks. Stay in a cottage, have Christmas there." He said, feeling Tai relax into him. 
“As if you’ll get two weeks of leave at Christmas.”
"Watch me."
“Only if you forge a sick note will you get that much time off. And don’t even think about it.” He teased. “I don’t even think I could get that much off, but maybe a few days before new years?”
"We'll manage it."
“What about going to Fao’s? Won’t you miss that?”
"You miss your family for mine."
“I love your family.”
"My point still stands."
“Mm, it would be nice to go back. You won’t understand a word.”
"Be nice for the kids to have the accent though." He smiled, glad Tai was relaxing more. "Be like mini yous."
“We’d need to move for them to have the accent, really. Right now they’re just gonna end up like Fao.” He joked. 
"Oh, I don't know which would be worse." He teased, his face falling as the door pushed open. 
Tai tensed, his jokes forgotten as the door creaked open. 
"Hi, Tai? Ah, excellent, you're all changed. I'm just gonna grab a few obs off you, and then we'll pop you through."
He nodded, swallowing thickly. “Okay.” He untangled himself from Hars, sitting down. 
Harrison mirrored his actions, sitting and fidgeting with a stray thread. The nurse was nice enough, but Harrison couldn't focus on their conversation, his eyes trained on the monitor. 
Tai did his best to try and relax, focusing on his breathing. He’d looked to Harrison, but he was just staring at the obs machine, and that didn’t help. He tried to think of something else, of the Christmas trip they’d been planning, but the stupid thing had sound and he could hear how fast his pulse was, the way the blood pressure cuff squeezed so tight his fingers tingled and he prayed it wouldn’t be ridiculously high. 
The nurse made a soft noise. “Oh, those are a bit on the high side, aren’t they?”
“I’m, uh, a really nervous patient. White Coat Syndrome and all that.” Was Harrison going to be pissed he was anxious again?
Harrison frowned at the obs, and stood up. He moved back to Tai's side, kissed his cheek and hopped on the bed next to him. He laced their fingers together, bringing their knuckles to his lips. 
"Deep breath together?" He said softly. "Make you feel better."
He nodded, forcing himself to take another deep breath with Harrison.
He kissed their knuckles. "And again? All the way down, from your head to your toes."
“Gonna make me go dizzy.” He grumbled, but did as he was told after a few moments, focusing on drawing the breath all the way to his feet. 
"Don't make yourself dizzy." Harrison murmured with a gentle laugh. "Defeats the point."
“I know.” His pulse had come down, and the nurse hummed. 
“I don’t suppose you do your blood pressure at home, do you?”
Tai nodded. “Yeah, they asked me to at pre-op, given my anxiety. Last one was 121/83.” 
“Oh, perfect.”
"He's the fittest person I know." Harrison said. "And I know I've gotta say that, but it's true."
“Well, I’ve not been so good recently, but I do my best trying to stay fit.”
Harrison stroked his thumb over the back of his hand. "You know, he even does the physio he's supposed to."
“Only because if I didn’t, I’d be the world’s biggest hypocrite. Practice what you preach and all that.”
The nurse laughed, leafing through the paperwork. "Ah, yeah, here we are. You've got your blood pressures for the week. Bless, you really are nervous, aren’t you?"
He nodded. “Really nervous. I’m awful, I hate needles and I’m not overly fond of hospitals as a patient.”
"I don't blame you, not one bit. They're not nice to be in." He smiled. "Unfortunately though, we will have to put a little needle in when we go through."
“Yeah, I know.” He said. “I’d rather that than no anaesthetic, but I’m not a fan.”
Harrison huffed a laugh. "Hey, maybe they can get you a sticker for being such a brave boy? Finn did it to me for my last one."
“Oh, piss off.”
"I'm not even joking. He found a little cat one, and I woke up with paed tape on my cannula and a "good boy" cat sticker stuck to me." He laughed. "Ely was in on it, I swear. So was Fao."
“I don’t remember that.” He said softly. 
"Oh, I shouldn't have said anything. I've ruined my surprise."
“Arse.”
He kissed his cheek. "I know."
The nurse smiled at the pair. "Your heart rate has come right down to normal now."
“He usually makes it go up.”
Harrison blushed immediately, his ears tipped red. "Tai."
“I didn’t mean it like that! I meant you’re always stressing me out!”
The nurse laughed again. "Right, before Harrison here melts, why don't we get you through? The sooner you go down, the sooner you can be in recovery."
Tai couldn’t help the anxiety that shot through him. “Already? Thought I’d have to wait longer.”
"You're top of the list. We'll pop you through to the room and the anaesthetists are waiting for you to have a quick chat and then they'll take you down."
He nodded. “And Hars can stay?”
"For now, yeah."
"I've already spoken to them." Harrison said quickly. "They know."
“Okay then.”
Harrison squeezed Tai's hand. "We've got this. You’ve got this."
13 notes · View notes
cyb3r-st4t · 7 months
Text
Sicktember, Day Nine
White Coat Syndrome.
════ ⋆★⋆ ════
Warnings: This Fic contains mentions of pretty harsh wounds, skin picking out of nervousness, and mentions possible loss in limb mobility!! Keep yourselves safe, let me know if I miss anything!
Characters: Aether and Baizhu.
POV: Aether can’t seem to take care of his wounds… and Baizhu hates it…
════ ⋆★⋆ ════
The rooms silence was loud, but Aether’s breathing was just a little louder.
Sat on the bed and surrounded by a quiet… and subtly empty room, he couldn’t help but already be a little nervous.
His last visit with Baizhu was not the most pleasant one on his end, the sheer amount of terribly infected injuries and broken bones that possibly didn’t heal right…. He got a stern talking to that day.
Today, he was here for a small update— but unfortunately for him, he was likely going to get lectured again. A new wound stood out on his upper arm, a nasty one. One that he had no care for when it came to treating it after he’d already bandaged it.
“Oh well…” he thought, “it’s too late now.”
It sure was!
Baizhu was soon to enter the room, a facial expression that was once relaxed had turned sour upon first glances. His wounds seemed to be treated… but not in the ways that Baizhu had explained to him.
“Great heavens child!!” Baizhu cried, “That’s the only one, yes?” He questioned as he pointed to the clearly new wound on his arm.
Aether just gave it a glance before looking back to Baizhu and nervously nodding.
“Mhm…”
Baizhu shook his head dismissively before sitting himself down across from him. While he sat there, he took his time to try and evaluate his injuries just based off of their looks. Majority were on his arms and torso— which were in easy sight for him, the others were placed on his legs, but he wasn’t going to ask to see those ones just yet. He could tell Aether was already uncomfortable due to the way he was holding himself.
Aether was sat in silence, fidgeting away with his fingers— picking at them, and scratching at them.
Sighing his concerns away, Baizhu stood to grab a few supplies to help treat the new wound.
“How well have you been taking care of the new one?” He questioned.
“Uhm… well— I couldn’t really give it any attention, I was busy…” Aether responded honestly.
Baizhu shot him a look that made Aether look away. He hated this so much.
“You need to start leaving your tasks for later, your health is much more important.” Baizhu lectured, rolling a small cart of supplies over to Aether. “How do you suppose you’re going to continue to help people if you’ve hurt yourself so badly that your wound never heals properly enough to give you proper functioning in that area or limb again?”
Aether swallowed thickly, just shrugging and looking to Baizhu’s shoes to avoid thinking about that. He didn’t like the thought of consequences, but committing actions never seemed to bug him as much. How funny.
Baizhu sighed and sat across from him again, scooting his chair closer to make treating his wounds easier.
“Look, how about this. We run over care one more time, and maybe we can get someone to remind you to take care of your wounds that isn’t me. Does that sound like a good idea? Or no?” He suggested.
Aether thought for a second, nodding subtly.
“Okay… just don’t lecture me again… haa…”
════ ⋆★⋆ ════
6 notes · View notes
newwwwusername · 8 months
Text
Fic title : The Upside to Having Your Nerd Boyfriend Come with You to Doctor's Appointments
@sicktember 2023 prompt : White Coat Syndrome
Rating : General Audiences
Fandom : Sanders' Sides
Pairing : Logan/Virgil
Additional tags : Alternate Universe - Human, Medical Examination, Medical Procedures, White Coat Syndrome, Anxiety, Anxiety Disorder, Medical Device, Caring Logic | Logan Sanders, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Word count : 355
3 notes · View notes
empresskaze · 2 years
Text
Sicktember Day 9 and 10: Home remedy & Excessive use of tissues handkerchiefs/blow your nose.
~~~
Spring was in the air. Gabriel Lane Herondale despised it.
Looking at the plethora of sodden handkerchiefs littering the few feet which encircled him, Gabriel groaned while clutching one of the last ones he had.
Sniffling, which did little aside from tickle his throat incessantly, he rubbed at his poor redden nose again wishing that his allergy medication actually brought relief.
Even the most intense rubbing did nothing to quell the persistent itch plaguing him since the weather turned warmer.
Gabriel’s raspy breath hitched hard twice before another false start gave way to more rubbing and blowing.
"I'll need...to do laundry soon." He muttered to himself, swallowing thickly. "Near...ly..." His thought broken as the looming sneeze finally broke through sending his nose back with the folds of his handkerchief. His eyes tightly closed as three more followed all in rapid succession.
His breath squeaked with every muffled sneeze, the soft fabric of the handkerchiefs no longer bringing any sort of comfort to the raw edges.
"Oh dear." He sighed, shoulders sagging from what felt like a weight of pollen crushing him. Why couldn’t he simply enjoy spring time like so many others? What he wouldn’t give for strolls with his dearest down by the river or a simple walk to the farmers market. Gabriel had always wanted to buy his Liam flowers, sadly even with medicine, it would be too much of a gamble.
When the itchy congested fit finally passed, Gabriel managed to get himself up, walking into his kitchen looking for a clean bowl to heat up some of the homemade chicken soup left over from when Liam had visited last weekend.
Even if he wasn't a cold fighting a cold, the warm soup made him feel better as he sat amongst his cluttered kitchen table. Gabriel blew his nose several times as he ate as the soup made his poor nose drip even more making the need for clean handkerchiefs even more prevalent.
After rinsing his bowl, Gabriel gathered his cloths and headed down to the laundry.
11 notes · View notes
groundcontrol21 · 2 years
Text
Sicktember #9
Prompt #9: Home Remedy
Character(s): Anatoly, his mom, and his sister Elisaveta
Title: Old Time’s Sake
Summary: University student Anatoly is home from school when he catches a cold, and his mother’s folk remedies clash greatly with his modern, medical sensibilities. 
Notes: Now you get to see yesterday’s Onions of Legend. 
The moment Anatoly came back to his childhood home for his winter study break, he was enveloped by his mother and sister as though he hadn’t just seen them for dinner the month before. When they finally broke away from the embrace, his mother was crying, and Elisaveta was sniffling, too. Anatoly mocked her for her newfound sentimentality, but it turned out there had been a cold making the rounds at the typist’s office and Elisaveta had brought it home a couple days before. But she was, for all intents and purposes, better, she said, save for a bit of lingering sniffles and raspy throat.
So naturally, Anatoly came down with it two days later. 
He shuffled into the cramped kitchen for breakfast, but didn’t even make it to take a seat at the battered old table before one of his mother’s hands was on his forehead and the other was pointing him back through the door to his bedroom through which he had come. 
“Hehh’KNSSH’uhh!” He twisted away from her, folding into the crook of his robe. “Hehhh… Snf! I’m–Snf! I’m fine. I–KSHHH’uhh! Snf! It’s just a cold.”
His mother smoothed her hand over his hair, but regarded him sternly. “Back to bed, now. I’ll prepare the tea.” She spun him around, hands on his shoulders, and marched him back into his cramped little bed. Once he had climbed in, she pulled the tattered quilt up to his chin, her expression infinitely concerned, and for a moment, Anatoly thought he might cry as her hands brushed against his cheek. 
Then, she clapped her hands together and exclaimed, “The onions!”, and any tender feelings Anatoly harbored dried up within him.
“No,” he groaned, coughing a bit in the aftermath. “Mama, they don’t work. There is absolutely nothing medically proven about–”
“You think you know more than your mother because you are studying to be a doctor, hmm?” She flicked his ear. “You are a smart boy, Tolya, but there are some things you don’t learn in books.”
“Ehhh’KSSHHH! Mama…”
“Stay put. I’ll be back with the onions.”
Anatoly flopped back on his pillow with a long-suffering groan, resigning himself to a day full of raw vegetables and boiled spices that would make his eyes water. Sure enough, his mother returned with tea and onions, the combined effect of which was so strong that, though Anatoly remained as bunged up as ever and could not smell them, he had the added bonus of a stinging, tickling nose thrown in the mix. By the time Elisaveta had left to meet with her friend for lunch, Anatoly had sneezed so much he was positively exhausted and had no choice to drop off to sleep.
“Hi.” Anatoly cracked his eyes open to see Elisaveta slip in through the door. “Hope you weren’t sleeping.”
He sighed, but he couldn't find it in himself to be upset at the interruption, and he flipped on his side to face her as she went to the window. “You wouldn’t care if I was.”
“Not really, no.” She tucked herself up into a cross-legged ball on the slim little windowsill just as she had been doing for as long as Anatoly could remember, like a cat in a sunbeam. It was far too narrow a ledge for her; she was half-hanging off and looked far from comfortable, and one day soon it would surely break and send her to the floor, but for now Anatoly drank in the familiarity of the scene, watching as the winter sun illuminated the side of her face. “You’ve got the nighttime for sleeping.”
“How was Zoya?” he asked, wiping at his nose and sitting up a bit on his elbows. “Is she still pining over me?”
Elisaveta was staring at something out the window, the tip of her nose pressed to the glass. “She’s found a guy in these past few months, a steelworker. She seems happy enough, but I bet if you only said the words…”
“You know I won’t.”
She turned, looked directly at Anatoly, an understanding smile hiding deep within her eyes. “I know.” 
The silent moment between them was broken when Anatoly began to cough, the feeling hot and sore in his throat. He was at that awful beginning stage of a cold when everything was wrong at once; still early enough that the throat is tender and achy with each swallow and the soreness has not yet disappeared, and yet late enough that the congestion and sneezes and coughs have surely begun to take hold. 
  Elisaveta, at least, had the good grace to look contrite when the fit persisted, though she did not move from her perch. “Sorry for getting you sick. I’m sure this isn’t the way you wanted to be spending your break.”
“It’s better than being sick and alone at school,” Anatoly croaked out amidst a break in the coughs, flopping his hand around on his night table in search of his glass of water. His fingers found two onion halves before they found the glass, and he groaned. “I think.”
“Don’t think you know everything just because you’re studying to be a little doctor now.”
“Ugh,” he groaned again, into the glass as he drank, “you sound just like her. Hehh’ehh’KSSHHH!” He managed to catch the sneeze in his shoulder, and not to drop the glass in the process. 
Elisaveta’s voice turned serious and soft, if a bit fond. “She misses you, you know.” Her gaze was downward, at the mouse-chewed holes in the floorboard. “A lot. And she wishes you’d visit more.”
“I’m half an hour away by train,” Anatoly said. “And I do visit! I have to study sometimes, you know.”
“I know!” Elisaveta held up her hands, palms facing him. “Her words, not mine. I happen to think you’re a perfect distance away. Far enough that you stay out of my hair, give me some room to breathe, but not so far that I don’t ever see you. That I can’t come say ‘hello’ if I want.”
Anatoly rolled his eyes. “You’ve never done that, Liza.”
“But I have the option,” she said, and the words probably came out more earnestly than intended. “I might surprise you one day.”
Again, Anatoly broke the tender moment with a sniffle, then a hitching breath. “Ihhh’HEH’ISSHHH! Ahh’KTSCHHHH!”
“Get some sleep.” Elisaveta hopped off the windowsill, going to the night table and fussing at its arrangement. “The onion isn’t close enough.”
Anatoly slapped her hand away as she tried to place the vegetable next to his pillow. “The onion is far closer than it needs to be, actually.” He put it back on the table, as close to the corner as it could be without falling off. “Thank you.”
“Look, when I had this I slept with them in a towel on my chest, and I was better in two days.”
“And yet you still got me sick, so I don’t think you were as ‘better’ as you think you were.”
Elisaveta shrugged, pulling the curtains closed before slipping back through the door. “Whatever you say, Doctor-in-Training.” 
Anatoly burrowed back beneath his covers and fell asleep in minutes. Much to his joy, three days later he felt almost as good as new without having to put a single onion on his chest, but his mother and sister assured him that had he done so, he could have reduced his recovery time by at least a day. 
16 notes · View notes
drelizabethgreene · 2 years
Text
If you’re looking for some weekend reading, I hope you enjoy my first foray into the Kitbell fandom!
The prompt I used from Sicktember was “home remedy.” Features a belated Halloween costume, Bell with the flu, and some romantic fluff.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/41705901
5 notes · View notes
Text
A Fire in Your Heart (and in Your Throat) (2847 words) by echoing_sound Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 逆転裁判 | Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Ayasato Chihiro | Mia Fey & Naruhodou Ryuuichi | Phoenix Wright Characters: Naruhodou Ryuuichi | Phoenix Wright, Ayasato Chihiro | Mia Fey, Charley (Gyakuten Saiban) Additional Tags: Sicktember 2022, Sickfic, Comfort, lots of banter in this one, Phoenix is an art student, Sicktember Day 9: Home remedy, Pre-Gyakuten Saiban 1 | Ace Attorney, Hurt/Comfort, Sick Phoenix Wright, Sicktember Series: Part 3 of Sicktember 2022 Summary:
Phoenix's boss refuses to let him work while sick.
[@sicktember 2022 fill for Day 9's prompt, "Home remedy". Also loosely inspired by the Day 3 "Painkillers" prompt]
6 notes · View notes
fanfictasia · 2 years
Text
Sicktember Day 9
Home Remedy
Spoiler: This is an excerpt from Way of the Sith
“I don’t know what to think about having him here,” Rapax huffs, as she, Vader, and the twins sit on the top deck of the palace, overlooking the surrounding sand dunes. Interacting with Anakin is… interesting, but it’s still weird because he’s too Light. He’s a Jedi, and that’s what matters most of all to her. It’s only a concern if that’s less true for the others.
“It is fine,” Vader replies sounding surprisingly unconcerned with Luke and Leia snuggled up against him on either side. “His presence here is not a problem for us.”
“Leia using the Light isn’t a problem for you?!” Rapax demands, straightening.
“I already spoke to her about it,” he replies. Her master has always been lenient, more so than any Sith she’s ever known, but she would expect more of a reaction about this.
“She is right here,” Leia says loudly.
“And she is being corrupted by her Jedi uncle,” Rapax complains. Leia glares at her.
“Rapax, that’s enough,” Vader interjects, “I once understood the… curiosity for the Light Side too.”
“You did?”
“Once. We know what is stronger and that is why we will always chose it.”
“So, you can all stop panicking,” Leia huffs, though Rapax gets the feeling she’s feeling a little more uncomfortable about everyone’s reactions than she’s letting on.
“If you’re done making noise,” Luke interrupts, “I think I hear a krayt dragon.”
Now that he mentions it, Rapax can hear the noise, too.
“You’re the one who makes the most noise here,” Leia whispers.
Luke tries and fails to kick her, because he can’t reach her properly with Vader between them.
Rapax snorts. “I think you’ll have to save that for later.”
“Save what?” asks Luke innocently.
She scoffs. “I think you are well aware of what. And see, Leia? I told you, you would be just fine.”
“I do not believe you’re advice is of much help to her,” Vader says flatly.
“Because she never follows it!”  Her ‘home remedy’ advise on what to do is perfectly effective, thank you very much, and how prescily would Vader know anyway?
“You really have to talk about this now?” Luke asks loudly.
“This time, I agree with him,” Leia mutters.
Rapax snickers, but they fall silent at that, and she silently watches the stars shining brightly above them.
5 notes · View notes
autobot2001 · 7 months
Text
It's Nothing
Sicktember one-shot 5/6
Fandom: Transformers Characters: Jolt, Ratchet, Jasmine, Ironhide, Sideswipe, soldier Prompts: Day 9; white coat syndrome, Day 23; coughing fit, Day 27; Uncooperative patient, Day 30; Patient 0 Warning: None
A soldier wakes up, realizing they have a cold, but ignores it. They have a full training day, and they're certain a soldier gets a longer lecture than any other employee when they say they're sick. The soldier takes a shower and gets ready for training. The shower helps the soldier feel better.
The soldier tries to keep up with the others in Sideswipe's training class. Wishing this was the last thing on their schedule, and they could go to bed. Instead, they have to do an intense workout, run five miles then go to Ironhide's gun training class. By the time Sideswipe's class is finished, the soldier feels awful. Sideswipe notices, but the soldier claims they're fine. I don't think Ratchet would consider this a concern if I told him. Sideswipe believes.
The soldier hoped lunch would be enough of a break to feel better, but they felt worse. I am a soldier; we don't show weakness. They remind themselves. Sideswipe watches the soldier, wishing one of the medics were also in the cafeteria. Seeing the soldier is clearly not fine, but none of the medics would come to the cafeteria unless it's an emergency, and a soldier ignoring they have a cold isn't an emergency. "Someone doing terrible in your class?" Ironhide asks. "No, one of the soldiers seems off by the end of the class, but they claim they're fine. That's them," Sideswipe points to the soldier. Ironhide sees the soldier is unwell: "I was hoping one of the medics would be here." "We do have the right to make them go to the medbay," Ironhide says, "that's what I'll do if they refuse to go by the end of my class." The two watch the soldier leave the cafeteria.
Ironhide watches the soldier walk into the shooting range, noticing how unwell they are. He pulls the soldier to the side. "Why are you here? You should go to the medbay," Ironhide insists. Just like with Sideswipe, the soldier claims they're fine. The soldier does well in Ironhide's class. Relieved class is over. They head to the stairs to go to their room.
The soldier hopes to act ok as they walk by Ratchet but coughs in a way that anyone would consider a sign of sickness. "You are clearly unwell," Ratchet comments, "you are coming with me." The soldier cannot refuse as Ratchet forces them to go with him to the medbay. The two walk by Ironhide and Sideswipe, who follow the two. Ratchet is aware and believes he needs to talk to both of them.
Ratchet has Jolt examine the soldier while he talks to Ironhide and Sideswipe. "I know this soldier was not pleased to see me for their physical," Ratchet comments, "I could tell they do their best to avoid doctors." Ratchet talks to the soldier while Ironhide and Sideswipe leave the medbay.
The soldier is too sick to argue with the medics as they figure out the soldier has been hiding being sick. Now, to figure out how sick they are. They get a little rest while waiting for one of the medics to return and lecture them.
"Consider them patient zero," Jolt comments while handing Ratchet test results, "they're at the beginning of the flu, but ignoring the symptoms made them feel worse." "We sure this is the first patient then rather than there aren't other soldiers that avoided coming here?" "I'm certain. Even with everyone's busy schedule, no one can hide they're sick with the flu. Maybe a cold, depending on their schedule. Both Ironhide and Sideswipe noticed something was off with this soldier."
Ratchet talks to the soldier, finding out they left the base all weekend. Which increased their chances of catching the flu from someone. It's now Wednesday. Plenty of time for the virus to affect them. "….I want you to be admitted to the medbay until at least tomorrow," Ratchet finishes. "I'm fine," the soldier argues before coughing and lying back down. Ratchet is tempted to let the soldier leave, but they worry the soldier will get worse and face complications without treatment at the medbay. Instead, he has Jolt help him get the soldier into an in-patient room. Both medics are used to Autobots putting up a fight in their bipedal form. They both can tell how little effort the soldier is putting into fight them, knowing it's a sign of how sick they are.
By the time the soldier is getting treatment, they feel like shit. They give up trying to leave. "Are we going to have to add sedition?" Jolt asks. "No, they're causing symptoms to feel worse, and can't ignore how awful they feel. I just hope they will be getting better without complications." "I hope we don't have to deal with many like them this flu season."
As Ratchet planned, the soldier is released the next day, feeling a little better but still having to test in their room. Ratchet tells them they must report to the medbay first thing Monday morning. Hoping not to have to force the soldier to come to the medbay just to be cleared to return to training.
1 note · View note
nurse-buckley · 2 years
Text
Sicktember Day Eleven - Emergency Room/ Ambulance
Fandom: 9-1-1  Pairing: Buck x Reader  Word Count: 1,095 words  Prompt: @sicktember Day 11 - Emergency Room/ Ambulance, written for the amazing @floralbuckleys  Tagslist: @firemedicdiaz @fireladybuckley @winterreader-nowwriter @iamasimpingh0e @dayrin085 @hauntedmilkshakeghost @floralbuckleys @writingmysanity  If you want to be added or removed from my tagslist, please let me know!  
Buck had warned you on more than one occasion to be careful carrying stuff down the steep stairs of his loft, even more so now you had both welcomed the latest edition to your family. The shelter a block from your shared apartment had had a special event for the cats and kittens in their care with their kennels recently overwhelmed. With a lot of pleading from you and the endless cute cat photos you'd sent to Buck, he had eventually caved and you’d adopted Sammie, a beautiful little white and ginger cat who had definitely made the place her home. 
“Come on girl,” you gently nudged her with your foot to try and get her to walk ahead of you, your hands full with a basket of laundry that had built up. You giggled as she didn't listen, flopping over dramatically in front of you before moving to weave in and out between your legs as you continued to ignore her. 
You’d had a few near misses, Sammie wanting to be right by your side, rubbing her face against your legs as you attempted to move past her. “Sammie, come on sweetheart, you’re going to trip…” you didn’t have time to finish your sentence as you came tumbling down the stairs, Sammie running off to hide with her tail fluffed as the flying laundry startled her. 
You tumbled down the stairs, each one seeming to find a new spot to hit, sending jolts of pain through your body until you flew forward, your head landing on the floor with a sickening thud. 
With the wind knocked out of you it took a little while for the initial shock to wear off. You took a shaky breath before you began to move each of your legs, testing for injury, moving higher and higher as you checked your body over. When it came to checking your wrist, you let out a yelp as a jolt of pain shot up your arm.  The jerk sent another pain through your head and you could already feel the large lump forming near your temple where you’d made impact with the ground. You lifted your hand to inspect the side of your head, gasping when it came away with a smear of blood from a cut on your forehead. 
With the danger over, you glanced around as you heard a meow, the sound followed by Sammie who had come out from her hiding spot to investigate what had happened. She made her way over coming to nuzzle against your side; if you knew better you would think she was apologising for causing the accident. 
“And this is why we’re careful on the stairs,” you groaned as you cautiously sat up. Sammie seemed to take this as an invitation and she climbed onto your lap, her paws coming to rest on your chest as she nuzzled against your face. “Alright, get off me. I guess I’ve got to go and get checked out at the hospital.  What’s your dad going to say about this? You think we can get away without calling him from the ER?” 
Being gentle, you shoved her off before you slowly got to your feet, glad you were the only injured party between you. Once you were sure you were okay to stand, you made your way to the bathroom, grabbed some gauze for your head, and left your apartment for the short walk to the hospital. 
By the time you arrived in the ER and were triaged, the pain in your head and wrist had doubled and you were beginning to think maybe it would be a good time to call Buck. 
“Y/N?” 
Your thoughts were interrupted as you heard your name in an all too familiar voice. You turned just in time to see Buck and Eddie wheeling a patient into the ER, cursing whatever power had led them to bringing someone in at that exact moment. 
“Heeeeeey babe. It’s not as bad as it looks,” you replied. 
Buck wasted no time, checking that Eddie was okay being left with the patient before he made his way over to where you were sitting. 
“Let me be the judge of that,” he said as his hands came to hover over you, afraid to hurt you as he checked over your injuries. He put a gentle hand over the one holding the bloodied gauze to your head, pulling it away with a hiss as he got a glimpse at the wound. 
“Y/N what the hell happened? Why didn’t you call me?” 
“I swear, I was going to as soon as the nurse saw me. I wasn’t looking where I was going with the laundry and Sammie got under my feet and I ended up falling down the last few steps.” 
Buck sighed as he glanced over the various bruises that had begun to form over your body and the swelling in your wrist, “that looks like a lot more than a few,” he admonished.   “I’m going to go catch up with Bobby and let him know I’m staying with you, you’ll need someone to take you home with that head injury…,” Buck paused, “wait…how did you get here anyway? Did you drive with a head injury?  Y/n, do you even know how dangerous…” 
“Buck,” you interrupted him. “I’m not that stupid, I didn’t drive here…I walked.” You realised as soon as you said it and by the look on Buck’s face that it probably wasn’t the wisest decision you had made either, but you decided to chalk that up to the head injury.  
“Why didn’t you call 911, or me? You could have had a spinal injury, you could have a serious head injury and be unconscious on the side of the road right now,” he continued rambling off each and every worst case scenario he could think of. 
“I know and I’m sorry, I was embarrassed, you’ve told me time and time again to watch out for Sammie and I didn’t listen.” 
Buck silenced you with a chaste kiss to your forehead, “it doesn’t matter now, as long as you’re both okay. I’m going to take the rest of the shift off, take you home, and we’re going to get your favourite takeout and chill on the couch tonight.” 
You stopped him as he began to turn and walk away to find his captain. 
“What’s wrong baby?” 
“Can we stop by the store and get Sammie a treat? She’s had a trauma today too!” 
“Anything for you two,” he chuckled, shaking his head. 
544 notes · View notes
fletcherwilbury · 2 years
Text
@sicktember Day 9: Home Remedy
Warning for headache.
4 notes · View notes
faofinn · 2 years
Text
9. Home Remedy
@sicktember
Fao hated being ill. He'd picked this up from God knows where, probably big lectures, long days and cold, exhausting rugby training in the rain. Regardless of where this illness had come from, it was horrid. Pounding headache, cold sweats, a cough that Fao couldn't shift. He sounded awful, his voice on its way out too, and he didn't have the energy for much other than staying curled under his duvet sleeping. He'd even missed lectures, which he never did, but he couldn't summon the energy to walk to campus. He could barely summon the energy to get up to make tea. 
He was woken from his doze by his phone ringing on the table beside him. Groaning, he reached for it to see who was calling him. Sheila. She’d been fussing since she’d found out he was ill. 
“Mum?” He rasped, his voice really suffering now. 
“Oh, Fao. You sound dreadful, sweetheart.” Sheila said softly.
“Mm. Feel it too.” He replied.
“Did you have lectures today?”
“Yeah. Didn’t go in.”
“It’s for the best. Do you want us to come up? Fred can get time off.”
“No, no. ‘m ‘kay.”
“Are you sure, sweetheart?”
“I’ll probably go back to uni tomorrow.” He mumbled. “Don’t want you wasting your time.”
"Don't be silly. It's not a waste of time." She sighed. "I wish you were down here."
“I’m fine.”
"You sound it." She winced as he started coughing again. "Why don't you get some rest? Call me later?"
“Yeah. I will. Love you.” He said roughly. 
Sheila hung up after a few more insistences for him to rest up and look after himself. He really sounded awful, and as soon as Fred got in, told him so. Sheila worried about everything and everyone, it was just who she was, but Fred's phonecall to Fao later in the day made him worry.
He made his mind up quickly enough, putting in leave at the University and sending the homework out instead. The trains were simple enough, and he was on his way to Fao's by teatime.
He hailed a taxi from the station, aware Fao would be asleep, and wanting to let him rest as long as he could. Only outside the door did he knock, and, on second thoughts, rang his mobile.
Fao had finally managed to sleep after tossing and turning for hours, when his phone rang. Again. No doubt it was Sheila fussing, Fred having told her he sounded bad. Of course he sounded bad, he was sick. He’d get better with rest. So long as they stopped fucking calling him.  
Rolling over, he saw it was Fred calling, and groaned. 
“Yeah?” He asked, coughing as he rolled back onto his back. “M tryin’ to sleep.”
"Can you come unlock the front door?"
Fao frowned. “Why?”
"Because it's bloody cold out here."
“What?”
"Just come let me in, will you?"
Confused, Fao forced himself out of bed and to the front door, dragging a hand through his hair. He opened the door, frowning at the figure that greeted him on the other side. 
“Fred?”
"Sorry it's so late. It was the first train I could get."
“But? Why are you…? Is everyone okay?”
"Everyone except you." He said. "You sounded so rough on the phone earlier.'
“I’ve got a cold. I’m fine.”
He hummed. "Still, I'm here now. Are you going back to bed?"
“Mm. It’s the middle of the night.” Fao grumbled. “Are you stayin’?”
"Not quite the middle. I can get a hotel room."
“Feels like it.” He said, shivering. “You can stay ‘ere.”
"Come on, back to bed." He murmured, shepherding him through. "You need your rest."
“I was tryin’ to rest.” He protested. 
"I know, I'm sorry."
Fao paused, and then turned to face his adoptive father. He wrapped his arms around him, sighing. “Thank you.”
Fred squeezed him back. "You're welcome, kiddo."
“You gonna stay here?” He asked, his voice muffled.
"Yeah, someone's gotta look after you."
“Mm. ‘m an adult. Can look after myself.” He grumbled, but it held no heat. He finally let go and slunk off to bed, curling up under the duvet again. 
Fred let him go, heading to the kitchen. He figured he might as well get a start on the cooking, so Fao would have something for the next day.
When Fao woke the next morning, he still felt awful. As soon as he sat up he was wracked by a coughing fit that he couldn’t stop, and with a frustrated grumble he managed to force down some water. He wanted a cigarette, but he’d never manage with the way his chest was, and instead he padded into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. 
Determined, Fred had been up a few hours before Fao stirred, finishing off the day's food and packing plenty more for the freezer. He glanced up as Fao walked in, giving him a small smile.
"Morning."
Fao cleared his throat. “Mornin’.” He said, his voice close to a hoarse whisper. 
"Kettle hasn't long boiled."
Fao hummed, reaching for his favourite mug. “Mum send you?” 
"No, she wanted to come up though."
“‘kay.”
"Couldn't get time off with Finn, and you know what he's like."
Fao shrugged, trying to save his voice as he made his tea. 
"I'll make you breakfast, go sit down."
“Not hungry.” He rasped, turning away to cough again, gripping the kitchen counter. 
"You need something."
Fao didn’t have the energy to argue, and he certainly didn’t have the voice to either. Instead he shuffled to the sofa, curling up under a blanket with his tea. 
Fred watched him go, shaking his head. He returned to the stove, and started on Fao's breakfast, some scrambled eggs and orange juice. Once finished, he headed through to the living room, passing Fao's breakfast before sitting next to him - the soup was pretty much finished. 
Fao took it, though he still wasn't really hungry. He picked at it, finishing the orange juice, and then curled into Fred with a sniff and a sigh. 
"Oh, son. You just feel rotten, eh?" He wrapped his arm around Fao. "I've made lunch and tea, and I've frozen a few weeks worth for you, too. Just some soup for today, an old recipe my mum used to make. Meant to fix anything, she said. Hopefully it helps with your cold."
Everyone knew Fred's soup was the best, and Fao hummed happily. “Thank you.” He rasped, his voice cracking. 
"You're welcome, kid. We'll sort you out."
He dozed off against Fred, content and still exhausted. It was easy to feel safe with him around. 
They stayed like that for a while, comfortable and relaxed, until Fao stirred just after lunch time. His voice had completely crapped out on him by then, a scratchy whispery mess, but Fred didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he offered Fao another cup of tea, with honey and lemon, and a steaming bowl of chicken soup.
It was perfect. Warm and filling and so so soothing. It eased Fao’s sore throat, stopped his cough just for a while. Fred’s mum clearly had been right - it could fix everything. Alongside a couple of cold meds, Fao was feeling better by late afternoon, though his voice was still gone. At least his head wasn’t pounding so much, he wasn’t constantly coughing and making his chest sore. He might be a medical student, but there was nothing like a home remedy to make you feel better. 
It was more than just the soup, too. The fact that Fred had travelled up to see him, spend time with him, cooked him a family recipe just to make him feel better. Fao knew he was lucky to have such a good adoptive family, but even then he sometimes doubted his place with them. 
There was no denying that he was part of the family today. 
He curled up back on the sofa with Fred’s arm around him, and the TV on playing some daft old movie that Fred decided was the best film ever made. Fao didn’t mind, it was easy enough to fall asleep to. He was just enjoying feeling loved. 
5 notes · View notes
acasualcrossfade · 8 months
Text
Someone to Stay
Sicktember Day 9: White Coat Syndrome
Stranger Things: Steve Harrington/ Eddie Munson
Words: 500 | Rating: T | CW: brief mentions of blood, needles, physical abuse, terrible fathers/ parents
@sicktember
Summary: Steve hates doctor’s appointments for many reasons. Eddie has a few ideas about how to help.
Find me on Ao3!
--
Steve stared at the circled square on the calendar for today’s date with a sinking feeling. The scribbled words were loud and clear.
Doctor’s appointment.
He hated the doctor’s office. The sharp smell of sanitizer, the white walls that made him feel claustrophobic…He wished for a way out of it. It helped that he couldn’t eat because of his blood draw; he doubted his stomach could handle anything.
“We leave in five,” Eddie called from the kitchen. 
“Can’t we just cancel?” Steve asked. “The headaches aren’t that bad.”
“Steve, they aren’t headaches, they’re migraines,” Eddie said, coming to place a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “And you’ve been getting them almost weekly.”
“I’ve had them for years,” Steve grumbled.
“Not like this,” Eddie reminded him gently. “I know you hate needles, but what is it about the doctor’s office?”
The childhood memory flashed in Steve’s mind and he caught snippets: the nurse with a tray of seven immunizations for his check-up, the way he’d fit himself behind the vending machine to hide, his father’s grip on him to pull him back in to the exam room, the force in which his father held him down as the nurse jabbed Steve with needles. Steve remembered the way he’d cried continuously afterwards and his father’s hot slap across his cheek to stop your tears. 
Steve swallowed down the sour taste in his mouth. He hadn’t described much of his childhood and he hadn't talked about the many doctor’s visits that ended with his parents arguing. They’d pick him up from the appointment and spend the car ride home nipping and digging at each other about what Steve’s results meant for sports and scholarships. Or worse, they’d be in a tight silence the whole way home, his father braking the car hard enough to make Steve carsick. 
“Just, don’t really like them,” Steve responded lamely.
“Is there a way I can help?” Eddie asked softly.
“It’ll be okay,” Steve sighed and nodded at the clock. “We’ve got to go.”
Eddie tugged Steve’s sleeve. “We’ve got a few minutes for this, hang on.” Eddie paused. “Maybe something for the waiting room? You still playing Animal Crossing on your Switch?”
Steve met Eddie’s eyes. “Yeah, you’d bring yours?”
“Course, that way I can play while I wait,” Eddie responded. “Maybe I can show you my new garden before you head in."
“You’re staying? I thought you had errands or something.”
Eddie gave him a look. “Yeah, I’m staying. No way I’m leaving you in there all alone.
Steve felt his face flush and a smile play at his lips. The thought of Eddie in the waiting room, not beside him but in the same building, simply nearby, melted the tension between his shoulders.
“And I’ll grab some snacks for after. We still have extra from watching Holly last week.” He stroked Steve’s cheek before heading to the kitchen. “You like Teddy Grams?”
Steve felt comforted. 
Maybe that’s what he needed all along. 
Someone to stay.
12 notes · View notes
fergusandmarsali · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media
Potions & Promises by @fergusandmarsali​
“Do you… need something?”
“Something to cure a cough, the kind that keeps ye awake at night. Every night.” 
“Okay,” Fergus adjusted his shirt so the buttons sat in a straight line. “Milady, she would be happy to help. Come with me, after school—”
“No! I cannae—” Marsali let out a frustrated growl. “Ye ken how my ma would react if she found out I was visitin’… Lallybroch.”
Fergus took one last drag from his cigarette before putting it out with the bottom of his scuffed shoe and raised an eyebrow. “The ‘Sassenach Witch’, you mean?”
- OR -
Desperate for something to heal her mother's persistent cough, Marsali seeks out fellow high-school student Fergus Fraser. With the aid of three little sisters they discover more than just the benefits of home remedies. Modern Day AU.
Tumblr media
Now available on AO3
Written for @sicktember​​​​: Home Remedy (Day 9)
6 notes · View notes