contains- HEAVY mentions of vomiting,fat fat TW lots of vomiting containments,if you think it’s ooc scroll,i tried to make him as like grumpy nice as i could,sweet lil boi katsuki,this is how i felt on my molly comedown,fun fact i’ve never had covid,implied female reader
sypnosis- you get sick he gets worried cause your his everything so he’s tweaking balls but it’s super sweet
wc- idk why i write a word count fuck do i know but this shit is pretty long
bakugo had always thought love was for other people.
for idiots. for people softer than him. people who needed to say it every five seconds, people who built their lives around it.
people stupid enough to let another person hold that much power over them.
he thought he was above it honestly
thought he was too sharp, too angry, too goddamn difficult to ever let someone that close.
and somehow, somewhere between your sweetness, the softness that grounded him… you lowkey ruined him.
because now everything was you.
his mornings, his nights.
the empty side of his bed when you weren’t there.
the way he checked his phone too often. the way his chest physically tightened when you sounded even slightly off over text.
because loving you meant there was now something in this world he could lose.
which was exactly why right now, standing in your dorm kitchen at two in the fucking morning.
he looked like he was one more issue away from punching something.
the place was dim except for the stove light over the kettle and the weak yellow glow from the hallway lamp.
his hair was a mess, black tank wrinkled, grey sweats hanging low on his hips, jaw tight enough to crack a tooth
his knee bounced against the cabinet while he waited for the water to boil.
his arms were crossed so hard it looked painful.
every few seconds, he checked his phone.
every few seconds, he looked toward your bedroom.
every few seconds, his stomach twisted.
and that was saying something, because he thought you were beautiful in every possible state.
but right now, fever-flushed and half-delirious under blankets, eyes glassy and skin too warm, lips dry, voice weak and scratchy—you looked fragile.
too fragile, and he fucking hated it.
you’d brushed it off yesterday.
“i’m fine, katsuki, it’s probably just a cold.”
by last night you were shaking under blankets, barely eating..
burning up under his palm, too tired to even argue when he showed up with medicine and basically moved himself in.
every hour he was checking your temperature.
making you drink water, forcing medicine into your hand.
standing there with that permanent scowl like if he glared hard enough at the flu it would leave your body out of fear.
he swore under his breath and moved fast, making tea like he was handling explosives.
when he walked back into your room, the sight of you hit him all over again.
curled up in bed, buried in blankets.
hair a mess against the pillow, cheeks warm with fever.
your breathing heavier than usual. your lashes rested against flushed skin.
and even asleep, you looked uncomfortable—small little shifts, restless movements, soft frowns pulling at your face.
his chest tightened so hard it pissed him off.
he set the mug down quietly, walked over body so tense he looks like he was about to explode.
he sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipped under his weight.
his hand moved before he even thought about it rough fingers brushing your forehead, then your cheek.
“fuck’s sake…” it came out quieter than he meant, but still bite to it.
your eyes blinked open slowly, heavy and tired.
“you’re still awake?” your voice was rough, sleepy.
“obviously. you think i’m gonna sleep while you look like death?”
even sick, you gave him the weakest little smile.
“shut up.” he grumbled, sounder sharper then usual.
but his hand stayed on your face, thumb brushing lightly over your cheekbone.
his expression looked irritated, but his eyes gave him away.
sharp red eyes that always looked angry now looked something worse, worried. that seemed like nothing but katsuki worried? shit.
you could see it in the way his shoulders wouldn’t relax, the way his jaw kept clenching.
the way his other hand kept tapping against his thigh.
you reached up weakly, fingers brushing his wrist
he hated when you said his name like that.
soft and tired, like you were trying to calm him down. because it meant he was failing at hiding it
“don’t what?” you murmured eyebrows creasing
“don’t do that bullshit where you act like i’m overreacting.”
you blinked at him, not hurt just confused.
he looked away, rubbing a hand over his face.
“you’ve been sick for two damn days and i’ve googled enough symptoms to qualify for a fucking medical degree. if you get any worse, i’m dragging your ass to recovery girl myself.”
you let out the tiniest laugh, immediately followed by a cough.
“i’m fine—” you waved him off
“i said sit up.” his voice was sharper then he intended
but his hands were already gentle, one behind your back helping you up.
the other handing you water. careful.
like you were something breakable and he hated that he had to treat you like it.
you took a sip, he watched a damn hawk.
you drank more, struggling to swallow.
“not even a little.” he sounded genuine
he took the glass, set it down, then just… stayed there.
too close to pretend this wasn’t eating him alive.
his fingers dragged through messy blond hair, frustrated.
“i hate this.” he finally sounded less .. angry ..
your voice was quieter now. “me being sick?”
his eyes snapped to yours.
“i hate not being able to do shit. i hate seeing you like this. i hate that i can’t fix it.”
his mouth shut immediately after, like he regretted saying it.
but you just looked at him
really looked at him, and there it was
beneath the attitude. beneath the sharp mouth and the dry replies and the irritated sighs.
because bakugo loved like a disaster, silently violently and completely.
and the idea of losing you—even to something small.
something stupid like the flu making your body too weak and your smile too tired..
made something ugly crawl up his spine.
because once you love someone like this, your brain becomes cruel
what if you missed something
what if he should’ve come sooner
what if one day it isn’t just the flu
what if one day he can’t fix it
he swallowed hard, angry at himself for even thinking it
it was so stupid he thought, it was a flu and he was acting like you were on the verge of death
your hand found his, warm, you squeezed.
he looked at you, even with the most tense body his eyes looked so soft
“i’m okay.” you tried to push
“you sound like shit too.”
“what? i’m telling the truth..”
even with the dry tone. even with the permanent grudge sitting in his voice like he was personally offended by your immune system, he would not shut up.
he couldn’t! every five minutes—
“then why do you look worse?”
“because you’re being dramatic and overthinking!!.”
“no it’s because you look like shit.”
he said it like an insult, but his hand was already on your forehead again.
forehead, neck, cheek even the wrist.
checking temperature like he didn’t trust thermometers to do their damn job
his brows pulled tighter every single time, his knee bounced when he sat beside you.
he barely ate because he was too busy making sure you did.
every little sound you made had his head turning, every sigh nd every cough.
every small shift under the blankets.
it was like his body had rewired itself to respond only to you.
and the worst part was, he knew he was being insane.
but knowing didn’t stop the awful pit in his stomach every time your face scrunched in discomfort or your voice came out weaker than usual.
bakugo was good in emergencies.
he was good when buildings were collapsing, when villains were screaming, when everything was on fire.
you being sick in bed, too warm and too tired and too quiet?
this made him feel fucking useless, and useless made him mean.
so he hovered, exhausted, and impossibly gentle.
by one in the morning, he’d finally passed out beside you welllll not properly
more like his body gave up before his brain did
he was half laying on top of the blankets, one arm still thrown over your waist like even unconscious he refused to let you out of reach.
his face was turned toward you, brows still faintly furrowed even in sleep.
blond hair a complete mess from running his hands through it all day.
the lamp on your bedside table cast soft light over him his breathing was slow finally.
for the first time in hours, you tried not to move too much..
but your stomach turned hard, that awfullll sudden drop.
the kind that gave you barely enough warning, your eyes snapped open.
you sat up too fast, one hand slapping over your mouth, the room spinning with it.
the movement was sharp enough that the mattress shifted hard.
and beside you bakugo’s body reacted before his brain did.
then his whole body jolted awake like someone had set off an explosion in the room
his eyes opened fast, wild and unfocused for half a second, still dragged through sleep.
his voice was rough, thick with exhaustion from only an hour or two of sleep.
then he saw you sitting upright and shaking, hand over your mouth.
and his heart fucking dropped straight into his stomach all the sleep vanished so fast it was violent.
“hey— hey, what’s wrong?? baby what’s wrong—“
his voice changed instantly.
still rough, still him, but stripped clean of the irritation. all sharp concern, his hands were already on you.
one on your back, one on your forehead, then your neck like he could telll from the temperature of your skin what was going on
“talk to me. what happened? you dizzy? fever worse? can’t breathe?”
you shook your head quickly, swallowing hard.
“i— i think i’m gonna throw up.”
you looked panicked now, which made him panic harder
“i really think i’m gonna throw up.”
“okay. okay, fine. that’s fine.”
“that doesn’t sound like you think it’s fine.”
“because it’s one in the fucking morning and you look like you’re about to die, excuse me for sounding concerned.”
you made a distressed noise, pressing your hand harder over your mouth.
out of bed. grabbing the nearest thing. water bottle, towel absolutely no plan.
“bathroom. now. c’mon.” like his slow was forgot you were on the verge of throwing up everywhere
you stood too fast and immediately wobbled.
he caught you before you could even stumble properly, one arm wrapping around your waist the other gripping your arm
his face had gone pale under the usual anger
“easy.. easy..— don’t do that.”
“i’m trying not to vomit on your floor.”
“i don’t give a shit about the floor.”
his voice was too fast now
his heart was pounding so hard it made him feel sick too, because rationally, he knew this was normal.
flu fever nausea normal.. but love made people irrational!!
and all his brain could think was wrong wrong wrong.
“you’re okay,” he said, like he was trying to convince himself too. “you’re fine. just breathe i’ve got you.”
you nodded, but your breathing had gone shallow, nervous.
“what if i actually throw up?”
he stared at you, blinking.
“..then you throw up baby. that’s usually how it works.”
his hand slid to the back of your neck, grounding very warm too
his red eyes locked on yours, wide awake now. scared as hell
“your not allowed to freak out because if you freak out, i freak out, and i’m already about two seconds away from losing my shit so please try and stay calm”
despite everything, you let out the weakest breath of a laugh.
not the usual sharp glare, not annoyance, not irritation—just genuine ugly fear sitting raw in his expression.
it almost made you forget your own panic almost..
because your stomach twisted again harder this time sharp enough to make your whole body fold.
you barely got the words out before you dropped to your knees in front of the toilet.
one hand gripping the seat, the other still pressed over your mouth.
he was down with you instantly so fast it was like he’d been expecting it.
one second standing the next crouched behind you on the cold bathroom floor
one hand flat between your shoulder blades, the other immediately pulling your hair back from your face.
every loose strand every piece
getting it out of the way with shaking fingers that were trying so hard not to shake.
“it’s okay. it’s okay, just let it happen.”
his voice was low now, scarily soft..
trying to be steady for you even while his own heart was slamming so hard it felt painful.
“don’t fight it, baby. just get it out, yeah? i’ve got you.”
you made a miserable little noise, breathing uneven.
your whole body felt hot and shaky and awful throat burning with that horrible creeping feeling
“i really, really hate this…”
“i know.” he said quietly
his palm rubbed slow circles into your back
“i know, baby. i know. just breathe.”
another wave hit and you leaned harder over the toilet coughing your body trembling with it.
he moved closer, so close his knee pressed against yours.
his hand stayed firm on your back while the other kept your hair gathered tight
thumb brushing against the side of your head without him even realizing it.
his chest hurt, he hated this hated seeing you like this hated how helpless it made him feel
if there was something to punch, something to fight something to destroy, he’d do it without thinking
all he could do was kneel on the bathroom floor and whisper you through it.
and somehow that felt harder.
you swallowed thickly, voice small and embarrassed.
“are you gonna hate me if i throw up in front of you.”
the second the words left your mouth his eyes narrowed, not pissed just the typical katsuki look.
like the idea offended him on a personal level
“are you out of your mind?” he said still slightly soft
your eyes stayed fixed on the toilet.
“i’m serious…” you murmured
i mean the thought of .. bakugo .. seeing you vomit your last meals into his toilet was kinda scary ..?
his hand pressed more firmly against your back
he softened his voice, but only barely.
slowly, you turned your head enough to see him, the bubble of acidity still in your throat.
and god he looked terrified.
blond hair a complete mess from sleep.. eyes red and wide and awake in the worst way..
jaw tight, worry written all over his face so plainly it made your chest ache.
he looked more scared than you did.
because bakugo didn’t scare easy but this shit ? this had him unraveling.
“listen to me,” he said, quieter now. “i do not give a single fuck about that. not one. if you throw up, you throw up. if you throw up on me.”
a weak laugh caught in your throat, his ahh would still look fine covered in vomit.
he kept going because once he started, he couldn’t stop.
“you think i’m sitting here worried about that? i’m sitting here trying not to think about whether i need to drag your stubborn ass to a hospital at one in the morning.”
his voice cracked at the edges, thinking about having to take you to the hospital ..
“that’s what i’m worried about.”
your eyes stung his thumb brushed under one of them before a tear could fall.
gentler than someone like him should know how to be
“you being sick, looking like shit, throwing up, drooling, whatever disgusting thing your body decides to do right now.. that is not gonna make me love you less dumbass.”
another shaky breath left you.
but his mouth twitched barely, watching your head turn toward the bowl as you whined.
“i’ve got you,” he said again, softer this time. “just get it out, baby i’ve got you.”
another sharp wave rolled through you and your body answered before your pride could
you leaned forward hard, one hand gripping the toilet seat so tight your knuckles hurt.
the other bracing against the tile and bakugo stayed right there.
no hesitation, not even a twitch in the broke
his hand firm against your back, rubbing slow circles between your shoulder blades
the other still keeping your hair pulled away from your face like it was the most natural thing in the world
“that’s it,” he murmured voice low. “don’t fight it. just let it happen.”
your whole body trembled with it miserable and exhausted and embarrassed all at once
and through all of it he didn’t so much as flinch didn’t gag or didn’t make a face not even pull away.
if anything he moved closer
because right now the fact that you were throwing up barely registered compared to the absolute horror of seeing you sick like this
his heart felt like it had dropped somewhere near the floor and stayed there
he was too busy listening to every shaky breath every weak sound every cough every little thing that might tell him if you were okay
that was all he cared about
you were all he cared about
not the mess. not the exhaustion, not the middle of the night
his hand slid higher up your back, his palm warm through your shirt
“good,” he whispered. “good girl, baby. i know, i know. just get it out.”
he leaned down, pressing a kiss between your shoulder blades so soft, barely there
your body shook again little trembles like shocks.
“fuck, i know i know, sweetheart.”
his voice had gone frighteningly sweet
the kind of soft that only ever came out when he was genuinely scared the kind nobody else got to hear
kinda made it obvious just how badly this was getting to him because bakugo only got that gentle when he was terrified.
after the second time your body finally seemed to give up
the worst of it passed leaving you shaky and limp and drained in a way that felt almost unreal.
you let out the weakest groan and, with absolutely no dignity left, dropped the side of your face against the toilet seat.
just gave up. so fucking done. a corpse.
for a second there was silence.
“…that is fucking disgusting.”
your eyes barely opened to the sound of katsukis half sarcastic half genuine voice.
“leave me here.” you weakly whined
“absolutely not.. you look like a dying victorian child.”
but he was already reaching for a washcloth
running it under cool water, wringing it out with one hand while keeping half his attention on you like if he looked away for too long something catastrophic would happen.
he came back crouching in front of you this time.
and god the sight of you.
completely exhausted.. hair a mess, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy and barely open, looking like your soul had physically left your body and taken the last of your dignity with it.
because even looking like this, looking wrecked and miserable and half asleep on a bathroom floor and you were still his favorite thing in the world.
his voice was quieter now, still firm
you let him tilt your chin up.
the cloth touched your face, cool against overheated skin.
he wiped your mouth carefully.
like this wasn’t gross or inconvenient like taking care of you was as natural as breathing.
“mouth. water. don’t make me repeat myself.”
you muttered something about him being bossy, but obeyed anyway
he handed you the cup, watching like a hawk eyes slightly narrowed like he was studying the way you drank water
you did side eyeing him at the fact his ass we being so for real
you gave him a tired glare
“are you like enjoying this or something?”
he nodded once satisfied like he’d just completed a military operation.
then he stood turning to flush the toilet and toss the cloth aside, the sound of the flush filled the quiet bathroom.
you had managed to shift enough to sit back against the wall now, legs weakly stretched out, head tipped back against the tile.
you looked half asleep and completely wrung out.
your eyes barely stayed open as you watched him move.
big muscular shoulders tense even now
black tank still wrinkled
blond hair sticking up everywhere from stress and sleep and running his hands through it a hundred times
still hovering and still worrying like a shit
still looking at you like if he blinked too long, he’d miss something important
your voice came out small
he looked over immediately eyes doing a full body scan before he replied just to check
suddenly shy in the weirdest moment possible but honestly you looked dead as fuck right now so who cares
no immediate insult to cover how much he felt
just silence for a second.
then he looked at you, really looked at you like he got lost in the sight infront of him
sitting on the bathroom floor.. sick and exhausted, embarrassed and still somehow worried about something like that.
and something in his expression softened, completely like scarily fucking soft
a small smile against his lips
rare enough to feel like catching lightning
“yeah.. course’ i do baby..”
your eyes stung instantly cause like that’s really your man
he crossed the room like it was nothing, like there was never another possible answer
you made a weak little protest when he leaned down shifting your legs and your body like you weighed nothing
“you can barely keep your eyes open dickhead”
and with stupid unfair ease, he slid one arm behind your back, the other under your knees, and lifted you straight into his arms.
like you weighed nothing .. i say again ..
he’d do it a thousand times and never complain
instinctively, your arms curled around his neck your head falling against his shoulder.
he adjusted you higher against his chest when you shifted holding you tighter.
protective without thinking just his natural way when it came to yoh
your body was finally giving in now, the adrenaline gone just utterly drained
you could hear his heartbeat against his chest
still too fast, still worried but he’s always worried.
“your heart is very fast.”
your eyebrows creased.. rude.
your voice was barely above a murmur, sleepy and soft against his neck trying again whilst his foot pushed the door open
his steps slowed for half a second, just enough to feel it.. his grip tightened
and though his voice was still rough, still unmistakably him there was something quiet in it.
“yeah?” he muttered, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he carried you back to bed.
a/n: nawww so cute — also peep him and that good girl nngggggg daddy
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