#sick!reader

[djopuppy]

boyfriend!steve babying you while you’re sick *.❤︎₊ ⊹

the world felt fuzzy as you laid in steve’s bed, the thick comforter on top of you becoming too hot for the fever blanketing your body.

“hey, sleepyhead” his voice was so soft as it came from the doorway, the usual sass and gentle teasing was completely absent. he sat down on the edge of the bed and began to softly brush the stray hairs from your forehead that had begun to stick from the faint sheen of sweat beginning to form. “how’s my girl?”

you shook your head, pale and dizzy “head.. hurts”

you could faintly see the frown of concern that immediately took over steve’s features “i know, sweetheart..” he picked up a mug from the side table with a strained smile, trying to sound hopeful “i made you tea, just the way you like. lots and lots of honey. sip f’me?”

“i’m not sure i can sit up, baby”

“don’t worry about a thing, i’ve got you.. just a few sips. okay?” he shifted closer and placed a hand on the back of your head to carefully support you while he brought the mug to your lips. you nodded as the warmth of the tea transferred to your tongue. “there you go… good girl” his thumb ran over the corner of your mouth to collect a drop of tea.

“thank you, stevie..” you shifted your head back down and closed your eyes as his hand stroked your cheekbone.

“anything for you, princess.. just focus on getting better, m’kay?” his voice was so tender. he began to lay down beside you, careful to not disturb the comfortable position you’ve found for yourself before arranging the pillows to nestle your head on his shoulder, his arm going around your back to hold you close as his fingers traced soothing lines up and down.

you found yourself instantly soothed by the rhythm of his heart and steady breathing. a fragile soft smile touching your lips as you nuzzled closer into his warmth.

“i’ve got you, honey” he began to hum a soft tune into your hair in between soft kisses against your temple. his hand was still drifting up and down your back soothingly as you began to fall back to sleep with the safety of your boyfriend holding onto you, knowing he’d do anything to make sure you were okay again.

— ‪♡

steve is such a softie. this was requested! requests are open. likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated. thank you ‪♡

read more of my steve stuff here!

divider from @cursed-carmine

[ohclaire]

You stumble into the rec room in the morning, not in uniform, hair a mess, bleary-eyed, and pouting. Immediately all the boys’ hearts shatter. You have an incredible effect to do that to them, whether with your pout or puppy-dog eyes that they still can’t resist.

You make a bee-line for Kyle who is currently pouring a cup of coffee, nearly stumbling on your pajama leg that’s too long and the fuzzy socks with no grips.

“Kyyyylle,” you whine, elongating his name. You shove yourself into his chest, head shoving into his sternum and arms wrapping around his waist.

“Hey, hold on—“ he immediatley puts down the mug in concern, “what’s going on, baby?”

“M’ head hur’s.” It’s muffled through his shirt, he can hear a tiny sniffle. “Think ‘m getting sick…”

His arms are instantly wrapped around you, you feel so secure and his biceps are huge and he smells so good—

You start crying. Your shoulders shake.

He pulls you away from his chest, forcing you to look at him to confirm what he thought. “Hey, baby, no, why are we crying? It’s okay.” He cups your cheeks, wiping away the tears.

Your lip wobbles, “I love you so much!”

He pauses. “You’re…you’re crying because you love me so much?”

“Mhm!” You nod aggressively.

He can’t help but break into a small smile and giggle. He pulls you back into his chest, “okay, sweetheart…it’s gonna be okay.” His hand is caressing the back of your head.

He makes eye contact with the others, letting them know he’s got this. They start to make your breakfast for when you calm down.

[invincibledc]

Twin!reader who’s easily sick. They can’t be a hero, they can’t fight, they can’t go out on patrols. They have to live that normal life while their whole family and twin fight bad guys. Damian always comes back home, getting dressed to relax. To take care of his beloved twin. He sits on the edge of their bed, making them take medicine, vitamins. You name it. The twin could only frown in sadness, telling Damian that they “don’t need care.” Damian felt a little anger, but was calm on the outside.

It was always his duty to protect his twin. He’s not letting you perish by your weak immune system. You will be healthy, even if it kills him to realize that you are actually dying inside.

His twin…

[hearts4steve]

જ⁀➴ i’ll still stay

steve harrington x sick!fem reader

a part of my i'll still stay au!

cw: reader has blood cancer, hints at depression, dramatic overuse of ‘baby’ bc i would love steve to call me baby icl

part 1 | part 2

hawkins was locked down. nothing comes in, nothing comes out.

now, this was specifically an inconvenience to you since the doctors were speculating you had blood cancer, but they didn’t have the proper lab equipment to analyze the needed bloodwork.

you were livid. if the countless doctors listened to you when you insisted what you had weren’t just stress headaches years ago, maybe they would’ve come to a faster conclusion.

maybe you would’ve accepted it rather than living in denial. maybe you wouldn’t have lost everything in the process of trying not to lose yourself.

with every ‘i don’t know’ and a ‘hm, that’s interesting’ a doctor hummed, you felt a piece of yourself wither away.

it was so frustrating to know there was something wrong with you, but not having the equipment to fix it, let alone pinpoint what it is.

you were upset, rightfully so, but you took it out on the wrong people. your outlet had become your friends. mostly during anything crawl-related.

you snapped at every minor inconvenience. you were strict, and unhappy. you were able to cover that one up as disappointment. your tight program undoubtedly led to the most successful crawls the party had ever seen. the safest, too. but it just got too much.

you yelled when you didn’t need to, and you hated the person you were becoming. that’s when you decided to drift away.

you lost your appetite; your skin a ghostly color and your body reduced to skin and bones. your eyes were sunken in and lost all sign of life; a glimmer became an impossibility even during happy moments.

you drifted away, but you were holding on by a thread. you’ve bled with these people. they’re your family whether you like it or not.

you listened in to robin giving hints at the next crawl on the radio, often switching the channel when they opt for an option you would’ve been extremely against or when the perfect choice had been right there, but none of them saw it for some reason.

she dropped one last hint that there wouldn’t be a crawl for a while and you wondered why. you didn’t know the party was practically crumbling without your guidance. well, not necessarily crumbling, just not flowing as smoothly as they were used to with you.

you were about to switch the channel when robin’s solemn voice kept you. it wasn’t a voice she deployed as rockin robin. this was your rob.

“jimmy ‘fast hands’ lee, why’d you have to leave? you taught us so much, but we want to learn more. things aren’t the same here without you. if you’re listening, this one’s for you, and we love you.”

the rubber chicken toy sound effect made you swerve lanes last minute and take a turn that would lead you to the squawk.

steve.

does he still miss you? you thought he forgot about you—he had every reason to do so.

he was your boyfriend and you pulled away so abruptly, in a way he didn’t deserve at all.

the first couple of months he came over to your house, but you were never there. you always at the damned hospital, withdrawing blood knowing damn well it had nowhere to go.

he caught you walking around near the hospital one day and ran to you, eyes wide, wondering what the hell you were doing on that side of town.

you kept your head low and walked past him.

nobody loves a sick lady.

steve deserves a healthy woman.

steve wouldn’t love you if he found out you were sick.

these thought played like a mantra in your head, ironically keeping you sane.

he had called after you and chased you down, but you ignored him and continued walking.

you were now standing in front of the squawks door and contemplated knocking. nobody ever knocks. so you didn’t.

you walked in and was hit with the smell of peanut butter and vinyls.

you took a left to the makeshift living room they had and froze in place. everyone was there.

all eyes were on you, mouths agape.

you tugged at the sweater you were wearing before you realized it was one of steve’s. great, so if he hadn’t noticed it, you most definitely brought his attention to it. turning around and running away seemed really appealing.

you stayed, not because you wanted, but because robin was entrapping you in a hug. “she came! i told you she would come! steve, she’s here!”

“i— yeah.” you swallowed, suddenly finding your tongue very heavy.

you saw your usual black splotches and swayed, robin grasping your elbow. you could swear you saw steve jump to help you.

“woah!”

“i’m sorry—i just need to sit down, i’m fine.”

lucas leaped up from the chair he was sitting on and offered it to you. your placed a thankful hand on his shoulder and sat down. he pretended not to feel how cold your fingers were and how they felt like sticks. they weren’t adorned with your rings because they kept falling off.

everyone was staring at you intently, eyes darting all over. you realized they hadn’t seen you in a while, and frankly, you looked like death incarnated.

you fiddled with the sleeves of steve’s your sweater anxiously.

you looked up to meet their eyes. the sight of steve staring at you with such care in his eyes made you choke up. you didn’t deserve this. you didn’t deserve him.

“the doctors think i have blood cancer.” the admission fell heavy in the air, the room suddenly feeling many sizes too small.

you could feel your heartbeat in your ears and you could hear your heart thumping. you felt fuzzy like you always right before the unbearable tension headache.

you pressed the heel of your palm to the middle of the forehead.

“think? what do you mean think?”

you dropped your hand to your lap and stared at it intently. “they don’t really have the equipment to do the bloodwork i need, and they can’t send out any samples to the lab in the city. they’re fairly certain it’s blood cancer, though, it’s the only explanation.”

a beat of silence, then dustin bursts. “i could’ve built you an entire lab! i could’ve done the bloodwork myself!”

“why didn’t you tell us, honey?” joyce asked, a frown on her face.

“i didn’t wanna add more onto your plates with the whole vecna thing going on, especially if it wasn’t even confirmed.”

“you aren’t a burden.” this time it was will that spoke up. “if you told us, we would’ve been there for you. we will. we are.”

you wipe a tear with the corner of your sleeve.

“how long have you known?” robin asked, tears streaming freely down her cheeks.

you opened your mouth then closed it again. you didn’t remember. your memory was nowhere near as good as it was then.

steve shocked everyone by giving the exact date. “it was the day i saw you near the hospital. god, if i had known…”

“steve.” you whispered, afraid if you went an octave higher your voice would give away. “there was nothing you could’ve done. any of you.”

“you didn’t have to go through it alone.” he retaliated.

“i’m okay, it’s fine.” you tried. “alive and breathing.”

“yeah, barely!”

everyone watches you two like they were watching an intense tennis match.

you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “i’m just here to apologize for the way i’ve been acting. i don’t expect anything from you guys. don’t pity the sick girl, please.”

“this isn’t pity, it’s worry.” nancy spoke up. “it’s guilt. we’ve known you for years we should’ve known something was wrong. we should’ve known your switch up wasn’t because you were sick of being nice to world when it gave you nothing in return. we should’ve known.”

“you couldn’t have.”

“i should’ve.” steve’s eyes were welling up with tears, hands placed on his hips. “it was my right to know. my right to help. my right to be there for you just like how you were there for me every single time. that’s how a relationship works.”

you stood up too fast—your mistake—and wobbled, already seeing splotches.

lucas jumped up and stabilized you. he held your hand, “where do you wanna go? i’ll take you.”

you didn’t fight. you knew you wouldn’t make it a couple of steps before swaying. “steve.” you whispered into his ear.

he nodded and took you to the kitchen, staring at steve and jabbing his head towards the kitchen ‘follow me’.

he sat you down on the most comfiest chair (in his opinion). he gave you a kiss on the top of your head. “you were like the older sister i never had. don’t ever—not for a moment—think you’re a burden. i’m right here. we all are.” he gave you a soft smile before exiting the kitchen, leaving you alone with steve.

he pulled out a chair and sat in front of you, his warm hands encompassing your cold ones.

“i’m sorry you went through this alone.” he said in a tone much softer than back in front of the rest. “i should’ve done more.”

“please.” you shake your head. “you were everything. it was me. you deserve more than this, steve. you deserve a healthy woman you could grow old with and have all six of your nuggets with.”

“no.” he said firmly. “if it’s not with you i don’t want it. any of it.”

“steve, no one wants a sick girl.”

“me!” he scoffed. “i do! i want every version of you. through sickness and in health. you took care of me when i got concussed in that russian base and before that by billy. you helped me with my migraines every single time. you taught me how to be me, and you think i don’t want you anymore? what, because some stupid small town doctor thinks you have cancer?”

“it’s the only explanation, steve—”

“how can you say that? you haven’t even explored all the options because we don’t have the equipment.”

“i just-” you sniffle.

steve pulls you in for a hug you’ve been craving for so long, and it immediately comes out like a dam bursting. you’re not just crying, you’re sobbing.

you cling on to his shirt like he’s your lifeline because he is. all those months alone, the one thing you wished you had was steve. all those nights you spent worried and crying, you wished steve was there right next to you.

“i’m sorry.” you repeated in between sobs over and over. “i didn’t want to push you away, it just got so hard.”

“it’s okay, baby, i’m sorry too.” he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “i should’ve been there for you.”

you sniffle, nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck. “let’s go lie down.” he offered.

he picked you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist. when he got to the living room, everyone was still there, but huddled closer. dustin was flailing his arms around with a pen clutched between his fingers. “well, when can he bring in the next shipment?”

steve cleared his throat and all eyes were on him. your baggy clothes were now hanging off your body, giving in to gravity, and they could see how lanky your limbs have gotten.

his eyes darted to the couch then back to you. only blinks were returned.

“dude!” lucas shoved dustin’s shoulder. “let’s leave.”

“alright now.” joyce got up. “let’s go to the basement and plan the next crawl.”

“crawl?” you murmured against his neck, low enough for only him to hear.

“next time, baby.” he pressed a kiss to your temple and laid you down on the couch, carefully draping a blanket over you.

you tugged on his arm and he got the message. you scooted over and he slid in next to you, brushing the hair out of your face.

“i needed this.” you confessed. “needed you.”

his heart shattered into a million tiny pieces.

“i’m here now.” he promised. “never leaving. never letting you leave.”

you hummed contentedly and your eyes fluttered shut.

steve hoped it wasn’t the last time you closed your eyes.

[skyrigel]

Simon had him and you all convinced that it was just sex and nothing more.

“No attachment.” He always said, everytime — sometimes so hurried and forgotten that it's just mumbled against your mouth before he's shoving his tongue down your throat.

Sometimes with so much urgency that it's lost between your moans, no attachment, babe, no attachment. And you believed him because it was really just sex, wasn't it ? There were no pretty dates and no fancy dinner at ritz, maybe those poorly wrapped ones he pretended he had not ordered and takeouts he brought along...but oh please, no attachments!

But maybe sometimes about those walks in the city where he would not so subtly grasp your hand, and you would catch him stealing glances at you while a teenager fiddled with his guitar, rhyming she came, my world lit with narcotic, I am addict.

No attachment but Simon's standing outside your workspace when it's raining —“I thought you might need it.” holding up the umbrella but those two words were there again when you were knee deep in the passanger seat and he was eating you out... because it was casual, right ? No attachment.

And it really didn't burn and ached until you got sick, real sick — puking your guts out and coughing until your ribs gave up, surely he wasn't the best role model of no attachment when he was panting to death as he picked your unconscious frame from the floor, you still remember the faint whisper of his ‘please don't leave me, please, please don't —’ over and over.

And if he wanted for no attachment then he should be gone. Gone and not come back because it was just sex...

Simon shouldn't be mopping the floor, and stirring your soup and touching your forehead every five minutes.

No attachment then why he's loading your grocery and taking out trash and doing your laundry, why he's wiping your tears and telling you it's going to be alright.

Why he's not leaving like he always did because there were no attachment right, but he's right here, tucking you in bed and washing your hair and reading you book.

“Is it some eccentric joke ? Why this Zaid is always growling ?—also when you get alright... we're gonna try it out, lovie.”

You blushed, but it wasn't just what he was suggesting but that word, it felt good.

“S-say it again.” You whispered, shifting your head in pillow. Simon turned back a page he was reading from, your scrunchie on his wrist.

“Zaid growled—” You screwed your face,“—oh, we'll try it—”

“last word. Your last word.”

“Oh.” He said, “Lovie...you don't like it ?”

You shaked your head, sniffing very unsexy-ly

“Call me that...I love it.” Simon pushed up the book up his face, his neck was pulsing with his many veins and you knew the blush that would be blooming on his hard face. Cute.

“Again.” You tilted your head, to get a look at his flushed out face.

“Okay Lovie...sleep now.” He grumbled, flicking your bedside lamp off and bookmarking the book with one of your scrunchie he removed from his wrist.

“Huh...Good night baby.” You said, waiting to be corrected, waiting for those two words to come and upside down it all.

But they never came, like they never even existed, never had a meaning to them at all.

No attachment, lost forever in darkness.

“G'night lovie.” He said so sweetly, and when you closed your eyes this time, you only saw daylight.

Grim Reaper! Simon

Masterlist

[junebugonjupiter]

Madder Than a Wet Hen | Jake Sully

Word count: 1.4k

Pairing: Jake Sully x fem!avatar!reader

Description: Jake takes care of you when you're sick.

Content Warnings: Sick reader, reader has an accent (it is supposed to be (american) southern, but could be any), both were transfered to their avatar bodies, takes place after movie 1.

Author's note: This one was an indulgent self insert, not even going to lie. I had the flu over the weekend, but am feeling much better! Thank you to everyone who left me a sweet message!

And @lejardinfleur, thank you for catching my mistakes per usual!

When Jake caught you staring off into space, blinking slowly as you braided plant fibers, he figured something was wrong. 

“What’s going on in that head of yours, baby?” he asked, braiding his own fibers into a thin rope for a new loincloth. The two of you sat side by side in your kelku(home) as the sun set, having just come back from the evening meal where you had been unusually quiet.

“What?” you asked, looking dazed and a little lost. He noticed your golden eyes were now glassy and a little bloodshot. Your fingers trembled as you slowly glanced over to him.

“You look out of it. You feel alright?” he asked again, lowering the forming braid to the floor.

You shook your head, your brows coming together, “I’m fine,” you insisted, but Jake didn't believe you.

He moved to your side, laying a hand flat to your forehead. He frowned, “You’re hot, baby,” he informed you, cupping the back of your head as he brought his cheek down to your forehead.

“Aw thanks,” you said sarcastically as he gently flicked your ear and pulled away from you. His arms bracketed around yours.

He couldn't help himself but smile at your humor. “I mean, of course you're hot… but you’re also temperature hot. How do you feel?” he asked.

You shrugged weakly, “I’m okay, just tired,” you repeated.

“No, it's more than that. What are your symptoms?” he pressed.

You sighed, your brain feeling foggy as you did a mental scan of your body. “Uh, I feel stuffy, headache, I’m tired, I started coughing this morning a little. It’s just a cold,” you insisted.

“Can we even get colds now that we’re Na’vi?” Jake asked.

“I don’t know, Jake. That’s a Norm question,” you sighed, tying off the braid between your fingers and Jake took it from you.

“Well, both humans and Na’vi have to rest, I know that. Go lay down.”

“I’m okay, not even tired,” you insisted, but Jake leveled a look at you.

“Baby, your eyelids are half closed right now. You’re not fooling anyone.”

You rolled your half-closed eyes and he smiled slightly, “Lay down,” he ordered again.

“Fine,” you grumbled. You stood up, dropping your supplies in a basket and shuffling to the sleeping mat that Jake was already unrolling for you. 

He smoothed out the mat and moved to another hanging basket to get out a blanket. You laid down with weak limbs and curled onto your side as he unfolded the blanket you typically only used in the colder seasons.

“Alright,” he murmured as he crouched next to you. He pulled the blanket over your chin and made sure your body was fully covered, “I’m going to go get Mo’at, just so she can check you over.”

“No, Jake, that’s unnecessary,” you groaned. Your hand darted out from the blanket to grip his wrist and he hesitated. 

“She can at least make you some herbal tea, that stuff will help,” he suggested.

“I’m f-”

“Fine,” Jake finished for you, grinning at the way your eyebrows came together in annoyance. “Yeah, I know. You’ve said it a hundred times.” He kissed your forehead sweetly, “I’m still gonna go get her, so you can stop arguing.”

“Okay,” you relented, drawing your blue arm up and over your eyes to block out the light from the small tsmisnrr (bladder lantern) hanging from the ceiling near the entrance. 

“I’ll be right back,” he promised, setting off into the night.

Mo’at and Jake reentered a little while later, bringing with them a horrible smelling tea that Mo’at all but forced down your throat.

“Gah,” you gulped in air greedily when you had swallowed most of it in one go. 

“Big baby,” Jake muttered teasingly under his breath and you leveled him a glare. 

“You try it then,” you insisted, holding out the hollowed gourd which still had a small sip worth of liquid in the bottom.

You flinched as Mo’at ordered, “Drink it,” and you immediately brought it back to your lips. You were not going to poke the thanator, not when you felt this horrible.

Jake fought back a smile, but sobered at his next question. “What’s wrong with her?” he asked Mo’at.

“Human illness, I do not know more than that. You both should stay in your home until she recovers. This cannot spread,” she informed and Jake nodded solemnly.

“Norm can come take a look tomorrow. He might have a cure or medicine.” Jake verbalized his thoughts and Mo’at nodded. 

“I will send a messenger in the morning. It’s best you do not leave,” she advised. The Na’vi were susceptible to anything that they weren't used to. Their immune systems couldn't fight what they didn't know.

“Okay,” Jake agreed, “And she’ll be fine until then?”

“Yes, just keep an eye on her. Come get me if she gets worse,” Mo’at said.

“I will,” Jake promised.

“Do you need anything else, Toruk Makto?” she asked.

“No. Thank you, Tsahik,” he bowed his head in respect and she did the same before making her way through the opening and into the night. 

Jake moved to get you water as you spoke. “So… sounds like it's just a cold, I was totally-” you got cut off when you sneezed, “right,” you sniffled.

He set down the water in front of you and you took a sip. “Uh huh. We’ll see what Norm says in the morning. Go to sleep, baby,” he ordered gently, lifting the blanket to slide in beside you.

“Wait, what if you get sick?” you asked as his arm wrapped securely around your waist.

“I’ve already been exposed. Besides, I’m not gonna let my wife suffer alone.” 

“If you're sure,” you muttered sleepily.

“I’m sure, and if I do get sick, then by that time, you’ll be well and can nurse me back to health,” Jake pointed out, his voice hardly above a low whisper.

“Sure, J. Whatever you need,” you nodded, eyes closing as he started dragging his thumb back and forth across the skin on your stomach.

-

Later that night, when all of Pandora was sleeping, you laid curled up in Jake’s arms on the soft, woven floor. You had been fighting to breathe normally, congestion clogging up your airways. You moved away from his sleeping body to cough into your elbow, grimacing at the sharp pain in your throat.

Jake had been drifting between dreaming and awake, but startled at the sound. He noticed that your cheek using his arm as a pillow was unusually warm. His hand resting on your hip slid over your shoulder and came to land on your forehead, hissing at the heat there.

“What?” you groggily asked, eyes still closed from where your face was pressed into his bicep.

“You’re burning up,” he mumbled.

“I feel like it’s a hundred degrees,” you muttered.

“Why didn't you say so?” He immediately flung the blanket off of you both and the sweet night air cooled your skin.

“Better?” he asked.

“Mhmmm,” you hummed into his skin. “But I’m madder than a wet hen right now. I can’t breathe, I'm so stuffy,” you huffed, your accent slipped out without you meaning it too. You rolled in his arms so that you were facing him.

He grinned. “I haven't heard you talk like that since we were human,” he said and you groaned. 

Now that he’d heard the accent, he would be mocking you all week. “I’m mad cause I can’t breathe through my nose, so my mouth is all dry.”

“I’m sorry, baby, really, but you’re madder than what?”

You sighed, “A wet hen,” you admitted and he barked out a quiet laugh. 

“You look as mad as one,” he agreed, bringing his thumb to smooth out the crease between your eyebrows before dragging it down your nose. 

“It hurts,” you sniffed, your accent rearing its ugly head again since you were tired. You closed your eyes as he traced swirls in your skin, traveling across your cheek and over your shoulder. He smiled a little at the cute drawl of it, before your words registered.

“What does?” he asked softly, sounding concerned, all humor gone from his voice.

“My head,” you whispered back.

“Need more of that tea?” he asked. “I can go wake up Mo’at.”

“No, it didn’t really work. I just want you to keep holding me,” you replied. Pride swelled in his chest that he was the one who brought you comfort.

You couldn’t see it, but Jake grinned fondly at this soft, vulnerable version of you that only came out after midnight. “Alright, I can do that. I’ll always do that,” he said, wrapping his arms around you again, pulling you to lay fully on his chest. 

“Go to sleep, baby. I got you.”

Jake Sully Taglist: @chaotickittenanchor @sleepilysworld @irinazatyk @up-l4te-4t-n1ght @yogirlminnie @superlegend216 @mrscadethankya @kodzuvk @saltedcoffeescotch @x-isha9 @earth2t @saibaxoxo @cherrysfruity @iconotfound @sillyfreakfanparty @dat-bit @coastalcowgirlie @loreyuv @leeaaahhhhhh23 @18lkpeters @sapphicdecay @fantasticxox @julietelysythe @pearly-pebble @itskekeelise @kklovescookies @eliza7up @skxawngg @omg-hellgirl

General Avatar taglist: @fiction-obsessedd @silkentofuu @zzma-rs @ghostlywonderlandtragedy @rebelatbay @runrabbitrun3 @filmocholic @strawberrychita @cuntigram @domis77 @angellovelyss @lexasaurs634 @your-mom-gay25 @nsaqlx @viliwi @edgyficuselastica @overly-enthusiastic-cats @teabeen @cuntigram @oceangodsss @darlnosis @athenannann

[pope-codys]

just saw your sick!reader headcanons with pope, what about daddy brett and daddy titus 👀

not this ask making me realize i've written nothing for brett (what a travesty)

brett richards, fire daddy

if you're dating brett richards you're taking supplements and vitamins. that man is totally health conscious - healthy, well rounded eating, regular check ups, regulated nervous systems etc.

if you got sick there wouldn't be a better person to take care of you, you wouldn't have to lift a finger

he's making you tea with herbs from his garden, he's making you soup and other hearty meals using the vegetables he's grown

he's testing if you have a fever by pressing a kiss to your forehead

he's giving you home remedies that he's learned in his travel, cultural remedies he's picked up from people at the fire houses that he swears by, like homemade salves and specific drinks

brett insists on hot showers when you're congested and sweaty from a fever. if you're too tired to stand in the shower, he bathes you while you sit on the floor of the tub

brett has you lie on the couch so he can keep an eye on you. he's watching you like a hawk for any concerning symptoms

when he has time (and he always has time for you) he sits on the couch so you can lay your head in his lap. you fall asleep easily like that, with brett running his fingers through your hair

when you're sick you never sleep alone, brett is always there to hold you while you fall asleep. he might get up to do some things while you're sleeping - cook, clean - but he's always right there when you wake up

sometimes he'll carry you out to the front porch - he has a large porch swing big enough for three - and he'll sit out there with you asleep next to him, your head in his lap. he says the fresh air is good for you

he reads to you too, helps you fall asleep by opening a novel and reading aloud

titus danforth, evil daddy

after marrying titus, you realize you very rarely get sick

you have staff to clean your house and keep away germs and dust, chefs who cook you any food you'd like resulting in a very balanced diet, and a personal trainer to meet your fitness goals

you're the healthiest you've ever been and the staff are careful to not come to work if they get sick

but you go out into the world to shop or go out to dinner and sometimes a sales manager unknowingly gives you a cold along with your diamond necklace

when you get sick, titus gets you the best - the best doctors, the best medicine, the best care

you get your blood drawn for tests (just to be safe) and an IV to replenish your fluids

you get a steaming hot bath to soak your aching muscles and clear up your sinuses

you get top of the line medication and vaccines from doctors who are flown in to care for you

titus gets mad when you're sick - not at you, never at you - but at the virus, which is something he can't fix quickly with money or destory with his bare hands. he doesn't like to see you lying in bed, ashen and barely conscious. he doesn't like when you have discomfort or pain

so titus snaps at staff, orders the doctors to do something to make you better, faster

but when it's nighttime and you're both alone in your bedroom, titus gets quiet. he sits in a chair next to the bed all night and watches you. he dabs your hairline with a damp washcloth and presses kisses to your forehead while you're asleep

you're his wife, his whole world. he'd do anything for you

[lottie-sweetheart]

𝘖𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘜𝘱!

"𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘺, 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳."

Summary: You get sick with a serious hard-hitting cold. Bucky decides, even through his grumpiness, it's finally time to show more of a softer side to help you get your light back. Ingredients: no use of y/n, established relationship (bf!Bucky, gf!reader), reader is fem (uses she/her), Bucky is a right up grump, but he finally shows some softness, 18+ only even if there isn't smut or nsfw, mentions of mucus, mentions of vomit, Non-sexual nudity, Sam Wilson and Steve Rogers mentioned, fluff, angst (on Bucky's end), Bucky being a carer, so much fluff with grumps. Calories: 1.4k Chef's Note: This is actually perfect for me to write atm. As I have a death giving cold (I cannot breathe-) But anyways! I hope you enjoy!! Part One , Part Two

The first thing he noticed was the way you started to cough constantly. It would be light at first, like you just haven't drunk enough water or maybe even swallowed something wrong. Nothing that really caught his attention at all, until your... attitude was, bleak. Mild. Like all the sun you had inside of you was starting to be covered by large storm clouds, that inched only slowly until all the rays of light were to disappear from his skin.

Your smile was smaller, sometimes forced. Your eyes wouldn't spark up whenever you saw something of your interests or just general knowledge. You didn't even perk up when he hesitantly gave you your favourite mug filled with hot chocolate. But that was 2 days ago now. Bucky had just come home from spending a night at the Tower due to some... discrepancies. However, those are now at peace. But what is not at peace is Bucky's heart as he walks in to hear retching from the bathroom.

He happened to mention to Sam about your mood. And how you were slowly becoming more bored than happy, which Sam, being Sam, only responded with one thing that has been stuck in Bucky's mind the whole day.

"Well maybe you should stop being a grunting grump and step up a little."

Sam meant it as a tease and Bucky knew that. But it still slashed a part of him that he forgot existed. It existed before applying for the army, it existed before the train. Fuck, it existed before everything bad that ever happened to him. It slashed his care, his deep-love, even if he would be flirting with every woman he saw back in the 40s, this was different. Not that you were different, you were still a bright, intelligent and gorgeous woman but this entire relationship, was the difference.

You saw him as James Buchanan Barnes. Not The Winter Soldier, not the guy that fell from a train and was presumed that he plummeted to his death. He was just, Bucky. The normal guy, who just happened to have a metal arm. Who you loved, with every inch of your shining soul. And all he did to return that was minimal soft moments, grunts and eye rolls. And now you were as sick as a sailor with seasickness on the most violent moving ship ever made.

And what was he doing? He was standing in the doorway, a duffle bag in one hand, and groceries in the other. Like a complete idiot. He needed to be in the bathroom with you, petting your back, whispering that it'll be okay and just let the vomit come up.

... The bags fell to the floor with a very loud thump. He threw his cap off and booked it down the hall of your small home before he practically threw himself into the bathroom.

"Sweetheart, hey, hey it's okay." He rushed his way over and immediately started to rub your back gently. "I know it hurts, trust me I do. But it's gotta come up, okay? Bad for it to stay there, yeah?" You nodded only to gag again and bring up chunks of mucus.

"I'm sorry James... I'm so sorry..."

"Hey hey, none of tha' okay? I should be the one that's saying sorry. Because I'm guessing this started last night? Yeah? While I was gone?" He already knew the answer, especially once your coughing had started he should've just stayed home. Helped you out.

"C'mon... I'll help you clean your face up then we'll get you a hot shower runnin' alright? Hot shower, those warm pyjamas and then lots and lots of medicine." You proceeded to side glance him, because what is with this behaviour?

You'd been sick around him plenty of times before, and he never changed from the ol' lovable grump. But this was... different. Unexpected, is probably a better word to describe it all. Yes, your Bucky could be soft, but in the rarest of moments. This was just... almost like a stranger of a man just broke into your home and happened to look like Bucky.

However, the shattered exterior with rushed softness dispersed once he cleaned your face and started to help you undress while he set up the shower. His hands were gentle but fast, not wanting you to get worse and freeze. Plus, he made sure there was plenty of steam and heat from the shower but not enough to dry you out completely before helping you in.

"...Buck?" He grunted quietly in response as he got your nightly routine ready on the bathroom counter. "Thank you..."

Bucky stayed quiet for a moment, he hated how your voice sounded so... bland. It's usually so much more lively, energetic but at a pace he could handle. Now? Now it was practically non-existent. If he wasn't so grumpy all the time maybe he would've noticed you getting sick earlier and helped you before it got to this.

"You're welcome... I'll go get your pyjamas ready. Call out if you need me, 'kay?" He then left the bathroom quietly, turning on the heater before putting your towel in the dryer and grabbing your winter based pj's.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

The joint kitchen and dining room strongly smelt of chicken, garlic and ginger. It raked over your body like a calming wave of breath. No, seriously, your nose slightly unblocked as soon as it hit you. Bucky stood over the stove as he stirred something in the brand new cook pot you got last week. He looked domestic, calm, like the world beyond the windows and door of your home wasn't as dangerous as it was. No alien invasions, no HYDRA based issues, none of it. Just the four walls of your home and everything inside.

“That smells good…” You padded over to him, wrapping your arms around your own waist to get slightly warmer from Bucky’s hoodie that you stole.

He didn't look up from the pot, grunting quietly as he grabbed a bowl from the left of him, scooping some contents into it. The steam was spinning and swirling around him.

“Here, it’ll help clear you up.” He handed it to you without looking back, he was scared too. He didn't want to see the light gone from your eyes. The small but exhausted smile would only make him die a little more than he already was.

“Thank you James…” You gave him a small and quick kiss onto his Henley covered shoulderblade before making your way into the warm living room. Leaving alone a Bucky who just kept staring at the bubbling oil that surrounded the seasoned chicken breasts.

He needed to follow Sam’s advice, but the way he acted when he got home only scared himself slightly. He was terrified to break what he has up, because what if by the time he fully shatters from his grumpy shell exterior, you’re taken from him? The only solid light in his life that was stronger than Sam and Steve combined.

He huffed before serving his own bowl and stalking into the living room. His steps and pace calculated, like if he made one wrong move you’d disappear, like this entire sickness was reminding him that you wouldn't ever be as strong as he was, you were just, you.

That's all he needed, couldn't lose that now. No. He would kill this sickness off for you, all you needed to do was just rest.

“This is really good. Oh my goodness.” You scoffed the final piece into your mouth as he sat down next to you. He muttered a quiet, ‘thanks, glad you enjoy it.’, before focusing on whatever game show was playing on the TV before you. His thoughts still sprinting around in circles of every possibility he could take to get the best solution. That solution being that you get healthy and back to normal ASAP.

“Just follow what Sam said. Stop being a grunt, be the boyfriend she needs you to be.”

“Mmm, James? Can you hear me from there?” His head snapped up from his bowl to you, like a dog being asked if it wants a treat.

“Huh? What?”

You glanced back at the TV before back at him. Repeating and reading out the trivia question to him. “Which U.S. president won the Navy and Marine Corps Medal for his heroism during World War II?”

“Oh, uh… John F. Kennedy. I think.” That then came up onto the screen as the answer, you gave a quiet, real, giggle before petting his head playfully.

“Such a smart cookie.” You cooed. He only grunted in slight embarrassment and dismay before hiding the grin into his bowl of chicken.

final chef's note!! : I've decided to make this a two parter as I feel this COULD have some more potential behind it. (thoughts? feelings? emotions?)