Summary: You're perched on a table in the Atelier, nursing a wound courtesy of an accidental misfire during one of Coco's practice sessions. Qifrey tends to you the only way anyone can in a world where healing magic is forbidden — carefully, by hand, with a needle and thread, and perhaps against your better judgment, you find it very difficult to want him to stop.
Warnings: Minor injury, stitches, and there might accidently be some present tense mixed in there, sorry...
Qifrey tsked in sympathy at your hiss of pain. He looked up at you above his glasses before lowering his gaze back down to focus on the careful stitches he was weaving into your wound.
“It wasn’t her fault.” You offer meekly.
It really wasn’t. Coco had just been excited to try one of your newer spells, one that shot bright bursts of light into the sky. The spell truly is meant to be harmless, but one misaligned arrow was how you found yourself tenderly nursing a deep cut on your side.
You groaned in frustration.
It meant so much to you that your spells were harmless. You were a combative witch afterall, used to wielding your magic as a weapon. That’s why it was so imperative that you could slow down and enjoy the ‘gentler magic’ as Qifrey once put it.
His brow quirked up at your pout.
“Does it hurt terribly?”
You faintly registered his fingers drawing back to just barely ghost the skin of your ribs. Just as quickly as he had drawn back you suddenly found yourself craving for the warmth of the pads of his fingers back on the skin of your side.
You shook your head ‘no’, partially because it was true, but mainly because you wanted him to continue nursing you to health.
Being babied didn’t feel so terrible.
“No it doesn’t hurt. I’m just cross with you.” You lied only to keep the conversation going.
Qifrey hummed, not at all put off. His hand found solace back at your waist, steadying you as he dabbed gently at your now stitched wound.
“Why are you cross with me?” He murmured, once again leaving you as he discarded the cotton he had just used.
You shifted on the table you were perched comfortably on as Qifrey pushed his chair back, leaving from where he was situated between your open thighs.
“Where are you going?” You complained. You realized how childish you must sound right now as your voice adopts a low whine. But who could fault you? You just suffered a nasty blow.
Still, you immediately want to kick yourself from embarrassment before Qifrey looks up at you with a fond expression. You pause, looking down at his lovely face. There was a small divot still in between his brows from worry when he had scanned over your injury. With little thought you reached your hand out to gently flatten the harsh lines.
You felt him still under the featherlight touch of your soft hand.
“Why are you cross at me?” He echoed his previous question, in a breathy whisper.
“Where are you going?” You whisper back, brow raising in challenge.
He smiled, head tilting to brace against his arm on the table. Whisps of silky white hair fell over his face, loosely.
“I asked first.” He teased, only to rile you up.
You couldn’t help but reach out, brushing strands of white away from his soft blue gaze. Your fingers lingered on the peak of his cheek bone, tracing under the shadow of his shut lashes.
Qifrey’s eyes fluttered shut at the contact, just barely leaning into your touch.
What would the girls say if the saw the pair of you in this moment? You shuddered to think what Agott would say. Probably something sharp out of mock annoyance.
You felt a smile involuntarily bloom on your face at the thought of the girls.
Qifrey couldn’t help but mirror your expression, bringing his own hand up to poke at your cheek.
“What would Tetia say if she saw us like this?” He mused, almost as if he had read your mind.
You huffed out a laugh, biting at your lip in thought.
What would she say? Probably insistent that the pair of you were star-crossed lovers.
Your face flushed at the thought.
Qifrey pulled his chair back in between your legs, decidedly abandoning whatever it was he was going to get up for. Absent-mindedly he rested one arm against your thigh, leaning his head flat against it to get a closer look at his stitches.
Your heart thudded against your chest. You knew he was only being so touchy because of how absorbed he was in his work. Not that he wasn't touchy usually.
Who were you kidding? He was very touchy with you. As a matter of fact he was only this touchy with you. Everyone in the Atelier knew it– save for you, clearly.
“Gosh I don't want to even entertain that thought.” You groaned, half heartedly, thinking of all the crazed stories Tetia would surely come up with.
“Let her keep her focus trained on Coco and Tartar.” You finish, grinning at the memory of the two, sneaking around.
Qifrey prodded at your wound, experimentally.
The smile from your face dropped, as you hissed in pain, face contorting into a wince. You tried, unsuccessfully, to school your expression but Qifrey had seen the flash of pain.
He cooed in sympathy, drawing his hand away from your side instead resting on your thigh drawing light circles against the flesh with his thumb in an effort to pacify you.
He stared at you with a tender look, as if the moment he tore his eyes from you, you’d disappear, slipping right through his fingers.
You sat in the silence, unusually unbothered by his prolonged soft stare. In fact, you basked in it now, feeling yourself getting tired under the warm rays of his affection.
“Are you going to finish fixing me up?” You question, half-joking as you gestured your head to your exposed stitches.
The second you asked you regret it, realizing this would only shorten the sweetness of the moment.
Qifrey smiled to himself as if he knew some secret you didn't, and that only made you melt all the more.
He pushed his glasses up his nose from where it had tilted, turning to grab a long bandaid. With nimble hands he peeled the sticky wrapping off the back.
You allowed your mind to wander as you observed how diligently he worked on a task so menial. How everything he did seemed to receive so much of his care and his affection. How strong and steady his arms looked even while holding something as delicate as a piece of fabric.
“Lean back.” He hummed, eyes once again trained onto you.
You rested both your hands on the table beneath you, slowly easing yourself back. You winced at the stretch of your torso and the subsequent stinging on your side.
Qifrey moved quickly, flattening the bandage against your skin. Gingerly, he laid his palm flat against the fabric, moving his other hand to brace your back, pushing his palms together to ensure a tight stick.
You couldn’t help the groan that escaped you, though Qifrey was quick to soothe you, tracing small shapes and swirls into your skin.
“There, done.” He murmured, assuring you that the worst of it was over. His hands remained resting around your waist, kneading you into a mound of clay in his expert hands.
You sighed, contently, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his shoulder.
His hands moved down to press against the the curve of your hips as he leaned his head against yours, ever so slightly.
Your voice lowered to a hushed whisper, as if you were telling him a secret.
“I’m cross with you because you care too much.”.
You felt his ministrations pause briefly before he continued on, humming, thoughtfully.
Right now I'm thinking about Caretaker sitting bedside vigil to a Whumpee who's in such excruciating pain, the ragged breath, soaked in sweat, eyes clenched, can barely move or think type of pain. They have no painkillers, so Caretaker offers their hand, their wrist, their upper arm and tells Whumpee "squeeze". Whumpee takes the offer, and Caretaker can feel the slight tremble as Whumpee holds onto them for dear life, desperate to focus on anything else besides the agony. Caretaker wincing as Whumpee squeezes harder and harder, but refusing to pull away or complain. Whumpee feeling guilty the next day when the worst of it is over and they can see the the dark finger-shaped bruises they pressed into Caretaker. Caretaker reassuring them, Caretaker offered after all, and they're just glad Whumpee is doing better. Do you see my vision
overtime can wait sickboyfriend!nanami x fem!reader
"Even when he’s burning with fever, Nanami can’t stop working. But you’re determined to remind him that rest (and love) are allowed."
word count: 1,798
tw: fluff, soft nanami, sickfic, domestic intimacy, domestic au
notes at the end . . .
Nanami knows perfectly well that he shouldn't have given you that damn key.
Not because he needs to regain his well-known solitude, or because he finds you annoying, or for any reason that would classify your company as negative. Quite the contrary. You are too good for him. And someone like Nanami, who has only had overtime and solitude as his closest companions, will never be able to get used to situations like this.
‘What did we say about working... like this?’ Your voice, polite but tinged with a hint of concern, broke the silence that had fallen since you used that damn key to break into his flat. Truthfully, he deserves it, but he'll never admit it.
That same morning, you had seen each other at work, as you did every day. The monotony of your routine (one he greatly appreciated) remained intact... except that his eyes looked much more tired than usual, all the tissues he used in a day and the flush on his cheeks were clear indicators that the man had no less than a fever. Yes, even someone as strong as him can't avoid catching a cold every now and then. However, his stoic nature led him to convince you with elaborate arguments that he was fine, that he didn't need your help, and that he certainly didn't need a rest. Even though he was aware of your ruminative nature, he decided to take that path.
But, of course, even after you insisted throughout his entire working day that he should go home, he didn't listen to you. In fact, when he got home, he started working even harder. Which you weren't going to allow. How could you allow your beloved to demand so much of himself? And for what purpose?
‘Y/n... what did we say about showing up at each other's flats unannounced?’
‘Nothing. You literally told me that I didn't need to bother letting you know every time I came over.’ He can't deny it. That's how it was, after all. He continues to stare at me, somewhat flushed due to that annoying fever that keeps rising. Your expression makes his heart skip a beat: you're not upset, far from it. You have a sweet smile, somewhat worried, but sweet... ‘On the contrary, you know perfectly well that you like it. So much so that you're regretting giving me those keys: you're going to have to stop working, and you're going to have to be pampered by me until that cold of yours is completely gone.’
Your boyfriend exhales, letting out a low groan, as he finally decides to put down his damn pen and place it on his wooden desk, which is still covered with documents. His small action makes you smile, and it works like a magnet: you feel a great need to simply hug him. And that's what you do. While he remains seated, you hug his head, taking the opportunity to plant multiple kisses on his slightly tousled blond hair. When he realises that this is the first time all day he has managed to relax, all thanks to you and your great ability to understand him, he feels a great urge to sit you on his lap and kiss every inch of your face as usual. However, you have other plans for him.
‘Kento, I'm going to get angry.’ In reality, there is not a hint of anger in your tone of voice. It sounds more overprotective than anything else. ‘I said today is your day to relax...’
‘By now, you should know that there's not much else that relaxes me other than your company.’
‘I love you, but you know perfectly well that's not what I mean.’ You take the opportunity to give him a quick kiss on the nose, which takes him by surprise, but definitely makes him smile. At least a little. Enough for you to notice the change in his facial expression. ‘Come on. Let’s get you to bed.’
‘Y/n... I'm going to infect you...’
‘Mhm. At this point, whatever you have, I already have it. Pfff, as if we weren't together every day...’
As you say this, you start pulling on his strong arms to get him to his bed once and for all. Something you should have done a few hours ago, but no: he's too stubborn. Luckily, he found a woman as stubborn as he is... capable of making him take a break. Something like this is crazy for Nanami. Anyway, he feels very lucky.
‘Put on your pajamas and go to bed, I'll go and get some medicine to help with that fever and make you some soup.’ Looking around his room, you spot his laptop and mobile phone neatly placed on his bedside table. This man... ‘And these are confiscated... until further notice.’
You can see him frown, but he doesn't reply or protest. On the contrary, he starts looking for pajamas to put on.
‘We both know how... accidental you can be in the kitchen. Please be careful and don't burn yourself...’
‘It's literally just soup, love.’
‘That's exactly why I'm saying this. I know you, you'll probably burn yourself with the pot... and be careful not to mess up my medicines. They're all sorted and categorised by...’
‘Kento.’
‘Oh, also... make sure you put the laptop and mobile phone on a safe surface, completely out of reach of falling. Accidents happen and...’
You hold his head with both hands and kiss him. God, him and his obsession with control. You thought maybe it would ease up a little in his feverish state, but quite the opposite. Anyway... This is your trick to let him lose some of his beloved control for a few seconds. It always works wonders.
‘Cook carefully, don't mess with the medicines, keep your electronic devices safe. Anything else, love?’ You look at him with a little smile, always so kind and understanding, even when he's stubborn... He remains silent because of your kiss. The effect you have on him is impressive.
‘...no.’ Before leaving his room, you give him a little goodbye kiss and then head off to do those three tasks.
°︵‿ ︵࿔.
‘Don't even think about it!’ Nanami tries to hold the soup you've made for him so he can drink it himself. Of course, your overprotective nature compels him to simply stretch out and accept that you will indeed feed him. As much as he hates the idea of depending on someone, of being taken care of instead of taking care, of being served instead of serving... There is a part of him that can't help but feel so... relaxed. He hasn't felt this way since he was a child.
When you finish feeding him, your boyfriend instinctively gets up to put the plate in the kitchen. Damn habits... You push him towards the bed and, obviously, take the plate yourself.
After successfully completing your three tasks, you can finally stretch out next to Kento in his bed. You notice that he is trying to rest, but he can't: his obsession with work is probably killing him. If there's one thing he can't stand, it's being unproductive, and even though he's sick and running a high fever, all he can see is that he's being lazy, wasting time while lying in bed...
‘Having you with a cold is hell...’ Hearing your voice break the silence so suddenly, he immediately turns to you. "Don't get me wrong. I love that you're finally letting me take care of you, even if it's only when you have the worst cold in years... but you don't relax. I know it's not up to you, but... I don't know. When I start overthinking, I just hug you and hope that whatever is bothering me goes away. Or I talk to you about it directly. It's probably just me... here, I feel at home. It's as if being with you gives me back all the energy I lose in my daily life, my fuel. Ugh, I don't even know what I'm saying, and I'm sure your head isn't ready to put up with the rambling thoughts of your pensive girlfriend..."
A few seconds later, Nanami decides to turn completely towards you. With his eyes still closed, he reaches out his strong arm and wraps it around you, pulling you close to his chest in a tight hug. No matter how many times he's done this, you can't help but feel a pleasant shiver every time your boyfriend decides to hold you affectionately. And even more so when he does it after you've blurted out some messy, stupid, meaningless thought that was on your mind. He always thanks you for understanding him so well, but he's the one who deserves the most credit in this regard: he has never once shown disinterest in your words, even if he's not as verbally expressive as you are.
‘You're right,’ Kento replies, his voice deep and calm, slightly hoarse from his cold. ‘Let's see... I'm not as good as you when it comes to talking about... these things, but I know that if there's a place for me, that place is with you. I'm not used to these situations either, but you've made me realise that I don't need to think about it so obsessively: yes, there's work, but I have you by my side.’
Right after saying this, he nuzzles against your neck. Damn, how cute. Anyone would say that this last adjective is not the most accurate to describe a tall, blond, muscular and intimidating man like him. But when he behaves like this with you…
‘I think I'll apply your way of solving things, hugging you like this, and I'll face whatever I have to face later...’ You think he's just getting sleepy, but there's total sincerity in his words. The only thing that contradicts him is his desire to keep things under control, which sometimes prevents him from taking the attitude he's choosing now.
Anyway, you're not going to complain right now. It will take time for your boyfriend to get used to being vulnerable, to detach himself from work, from his obsession with control... but you are as stubborn as he is (or maybe more), and that's why you're going to achieve all that. If anyone can do it, it's you.
‘I love you too, Ken.’ Yes, he hasn't explicitly said ‘I love you,’ but when he opens his heart, that's when he shows his devotion the most. Your words make him tighten his grip in the sweetest way possible, and after a few minutes, your boyfriend, still cold and with a feverish forehead, sleeps peacefully with his face hidden in your neck, whispering words of affirmation as he drifts off.
n/a: As always: please be kind, English is not my native language, so I apologise for any spelling/grammar mistakes or parts that are confusing. I have been (and still am) completely uninspired lately, so I apologise in advance if you don't really like the way this short fic unfolds and such. Thanks to the random user who gave me this simple but cute idea <3 love u xx.
Whumpees so exhasted and disorianteded they have no idea Caretaker rescued them.
They're concious through all of it. They have no idea they've been fed, bandaged, tilted up and given water, or picked up and placed in a warm safe bed.
Feveruary is a sickfic event with a closer focus on comfort and caretaking!
Hello guys! After a busy year, Feveruary has been taken over solely by myself (as Somber is taking a well deserved break) so I appreciate everyone’s patience and understanding at the lack of clarity of this year’s event.
That being said, I can’t wait to see what great things are written this year, we had an amazing year last year and I hope this continues. Hopefully these prompts live up to the expectations, I know many people have been waiting a while for them. As always, the ask box is open for any questions!
Prompt Text Version Below!
1. "Don't get too close."
2. "You're going to get yourself hurt."
3. Migraine
4. Whiny Sickie
5. "I told you to wear something warm!"
6. Flu Shot
7. "Did you seriously think I wouldn't notice?"
8. Sharing Blankets
9. Unlikely Caretaker
10. "You can't catch it... Probably... Maybe."
11. "We better get you cleaned up before (blank) sees you like this."
12. Sent Home From Work
13. "Are you alright to drive like this?"
14. "I'd kiss you right now if you weren't contagious"
15. "I don't think I've ever seen you ill before."
16. Sneaking Out of Bed
17. Bad Timing
18. "You're not being needy. You're being human."
19. Refusing Medicine
20. Cancelled Plans
21. "Don't lie to me. You're pale, you're sweating, and you can barely stand."
22. Ear-Infection
23. "Jeez, if that's your bedside manner, I'd rather take my chances on my own."
24. Contagious
25. "It's just a cold."
26. Pharmacy Run
27. "I don't think that's exactly hygienic."
28. "Your boss called..."
