#haikyuu!! sickfic

[stellar-haikyuu]

dependable ace ☆ ushijima wakatoshi x reader

synopsis: when reader develops a fever after training camp ends, she quickly realizes why ushijima is a dependable ace—just in a different way. details: fluff | sickfic | ~1.3k words | manager, f! reader | relationship leaning toward romantic

It was rather unfortunate that you developed a fever on the last day of the team’s training camp. 

With the inter-high tournament approaching rather quickly, you wondered if the stress and exhaustion from keeping up with the team had finally caught up to you. Then again, you didn’t exactly have the best immune system to begin with.

That morning, you were still fast asleep in your assigned room as everyone prepared to leave. Goshiki had knocked on your door, asking if you were alright. All you could do was hum weakly in response.

At some point, more voices started to appear from different directions. You assumed the coaches and the other members had come to check in on you, but their words just blurred together.

However, one voice cuts through the fog with startling clarity.

“She is not feeling well. What should we do?”

You force yourself to open your eyes. Multiple blinks later, Ushijima’s face finally comes into focus. For a moment, you wonder if it’s a fever dream—there’s something different about his usually stoic expression. It’s much…softer.

The chatter of the team fades into background noise as you focus on the team’s ace. Something about him just keeps you grounded in all the haze.

Your breath hitches when he suddenly makes eye contact with you and calls your name.

“Can you understand what I am saying? Would it be alright for me to carry you to the bus?”

Carry me?

You blink at him, nodding slowly. There’s not much you can do about it anyway—it feels like a hundred bricks are weighing your body down.

Someone gently peels your blanket away and Ushijima squats down in front of you.

“How should I carry her?” He looks at the rest of the team for help. Suggestions are thrown around, but in the end, everyone agrees that the best way is to ask you.

The thing is, you don’t know the answer to his question. 

You take a few deep breaths to think. As your eyes wander, you notice the sunlight slowly creeping across the room, nearly reaching your futon. Some of it shines on Ushijima, bathing him in an ethereal glow.

In your feverish delirium, you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “Doesn’t matter…I trust you.”

The world seems to stop as the words leave your mouth. His eyes widen a fraction before he nods once, resolute. “Alright.”

He slowly moves forward to pick you up, his movements careful. You try your best to be helpful, adjusting yourself when he slides one arm under your knees and the other under your back.

“Ah, bridal style.” You hear a snicker from somewhere. “Not bad, Wakatoshi-kun.”

As Ushijima pulls you securely to his chest, you feel the rumble of his voice. “Bridal style? Then…is this inappropriate?”

“No, no, that’s just what it’s called. Don’t worry, lots of people do it, not just married couples.”

“Ah. I see.”

You glance up at his face, taking in the solid line of his jaw and his calm, focused expression. For a fleeting moment, the thought of being Ushijima’s bride runs through your mind. How lucky his future wife would be…

The thought lingers longer than it should, but your imagination is cut short when Ushijima lifts you effortlessly. The sudden motion and slight shift in your orientation make your head spin, drawing a soft groan from your lips. Instinctively, your hands reach out to steady yourself.

Ushijima stiffens for a brief second, and you realize that your arms are wrapped around his neck.

Although you’re pretty sure your entire body is a furnace, you feel more heat rise to your face. Thankfully, no one comments on what you did.

“Her body temperature is very high. We should move fast so she can recover as soon as possible.” 

He directs the rest of the team, following a clear, continuous train of thought. You hear something about retrieving your belongings, checking for forgotten items, tidying up the room, things to buy at the convenience store, and lots more you can no longer process.

At some point, you nod off. It’s the absence of his deep voice that jolts you awake, just as he starts walking out of the room. 

You shift in his hold, braving another glance at his face. He notices and returns your gaze, but none of you say anything for a while.

(And well, it might be better not to, since he’s about to descend the staircase.)

It’s rare for someone to be carried by the Ushijima Wakatoshi, so you try to etch this memory in your mind forever. You focus on his strong arms and how they have not wavered once since he lifted you. 

When he reaches the parking lot, the cold morning breeze hits you. You involuntarily shiver, wishing you had worn your team jacket. 

“You are cold,” Ushijima comments. “Even though your body temperature is rather high.”

“Y-Yeah. That’s how a f-fever works,” you chuckle at his observation. You can’t help but pull yourself closer to him, arms tightening around his neck. “S-Sorry.”

“You do not need to apologize.” He continues walking and the bus quickly comes into view. A pang of disappointment hits when you realize that this moment with him will soon end.

As he brings you onto the bus, you tense at the temperature. A chill runs up your spine as you realize the air conditioning is at full blast. A shaky breath is all you can manage when Ushijima looks at you with…great concern.

“Tendou told me that cuddling increases body heat. Would that help you?”

You freeze, rendered absolutely speechless at his offer. “W-what?”

“He said that it makes a cold person feel better. Do you agree?”

You cannot bear another second dealing with your body’s baffling thermoregulation. At the same time, you want to fulfill a selfish wish to keep him closer to you for as long as possible.

“Yes,” you respond with no hesitation, sucking in a breath.

Ushijima nods at your consent. As he takes the paired seat in front, he gently lays you down next to him. To your surprise, he takes off his team jacket and silently offers it to you.

The generous action nearly makes you swoon. You thank him softly with a promise to return it later.

Ushjima waits patiently until you finish putting his jacket on. As expected, it’s quite big, but you’re just grateful for the extra layer over your pajamas.

“How would you like to...” There’s a tinge of uncertainty in his voice that you’ve never heard before. You can’t help but grin at how endearing he is.

“Um…” You turn towards him, shifting a little closer. Initiating the contact is a lot more daunting than you thought. Slowly, you lift your legs to rest them over his thighs. Then, you lean into him and wrap your arms around his torso.

“Is this okay?” Your voice comes out a little breathless. “If it’s uncomfortable, I can-”

“I am fine with this.” Ushijima responds, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “Would you like me to do anything else?”

His earnest desire to make you feel better tugs at your heart. “You can wrap your arms around me too.”

Ushijima hesitates for a moment, unsure of where to place his arms. You guide him gently, adjusting until the two of you settle into a comfortable embrace.

You close your eyes, sighing in content as his warmth finally envelops you. Throwing caution to the wind, you rest your head on Ushijima’s broad chest. The steady rhythm of its rise and fall is relaxing. 

“I feel better,” you mutter.

“I am thankful that is so.”

Would Washijo-sensei kill you if he sees this? Whatever, you can always blame it on the fever.

As the seconds pass by, you start to hear the thumps of his heartbeat. The rate is a little rapid, but you suppose it’s because he just spent the past few minutes carrying you. It doesn’t matter though, it’s soothing either way.

Before falling into slumber, you hear him speak in a low voice. “Thank you for your trust in me.”

“Of course, Ushijima-san,” You whisper in response. “You really are the dependable ace.”

masterlist

[noorpersona]

heyy first time requesting from you but i looove your work so if you don’t mind can you please write a timeskip!kenma x female!reader where reader is sick w high fever and kenma takes care of her and everything but two or one n a half day in she starts feeling really needy but is too tired embarrassed to tell kenma but he eventually finds out about what getting her so fussy and moody (other than the fever) and gives her what she longs for🙏🏻🙏🏻 I apologize if this is too long i mean no pressure at all you dont have to do it but i love the way you write fics please make it as long as possible thank youuu<33

I think I've ticked all your boxes hehe NEVER apologize for a request I love every one <333 thank you for your lovely words of encouragement! Enjoy!!!

--

Kenma had never liked seeing you sick.

Not in high school, not now, not ever.

He wasn't the overly expressive type—not with words, not even with touch unless prompted—but he was attentive in the quietest, most precise ways. It was in how he brewed your tea with exactly the right amount of honey, how he remembered which corner of the blanket you preferred, how he adjusted the thermostat a degree lower without being asked. It was in how he never once complained when you sneezed directly onto his hoodie and then apologized like you'd committed a crime against humanity.

You'd caught a fever two days ago. High. Dangerous enough to make him drop his controller mid-stream, tell his viewers he was logging off, and shut everything down without a second thought. His fans could wait. You couldn't.

Now you were curled up in bed, cocooned under three layers of blankets, face flushed and eyes watery. Your hair stuck to your temples in damp strands, and your lips were dry despite the water and juice he kept coaxing you to drink. A warm haze clung to you like a second skin.

Kenma sat on the edge of the bed, gently brushing a clammy strand of hair from your forehead, his brows drawn together with a soft, worried furrow. You looked so small like this. Fragile in a way he hated.

"Do you need anything?" he asked, voice soft.

Your response was a quiet hum—too soft, too weak. Your hand barely moved when you tried to reach for him and gave up halfway through.

He sighed. "I’ll take that as a 'no' then."

He rose and padded barefoot to the bathroom to change the cool compress on your head. When he returned, you winced slightly at the shock of it against your heated skin but gave him the smallest of smiles. That smile was all he needed to stay planted beside you for the rest of the evening.

The first day was simple: fever, rest, more rest. Kenma read to you in a soft voice when you couldn’t sleep, half-watching the screen of his Switch when you drifted off. The second day, the fever didn’t break. Your cough got worse. You started getting whiny—not in a mean way, just more clingy, more fussy. You tossed and turned, grumbled at the blanket for being too heavy and then too thin. Kenma adjusted it each time without complaint, wordlessly refilling your cup when it was empty.

"Don’t leave," you murmured once when he stood up to grab your medicine.

"I’m just going to the kitchen."

"Still. Don’t."

He paused. Then slowly sat back down. "Okay."

You fell asleep not long after, your fingers curled in the fabric of his sleeve like a tether.

By the start of the third day, the fever had started to dip, but something was off. Not worse—just different. You were moody. Restless. Your eyes kept drifting toward him, then away. You fiddled with your sleeves, pulled your legs up under the blankets only to stretch them back out a moment later. You weren’t saying much, but when you did, it was to complain—your pillow was too soft, your tea was too sweet, your shirt was itchy.

Kenma didn’t mind. He never minded when it came to you. But the inconsistency in your behavior pinged in the back of his mind like a notification he couldn’t swipe away.

By mid-afternoon, he closed his game console and leaned forward, placing it gently on the nightstand. His golden eyes watched you with subtle intensity as you fiddled with the edge of your blanket.

"Okay," he said flatly. "You’ve been squirmy and weird all day. Spill."

Your eyes widened, and your face—already flushed from the fever—somehow turned redder. You immediately turned your face into the pillow.

He waited.

You groaned. "It’s nothing. I’m just... tired."

He didn’t buy it. Not for a second. "You’re not tired. You’re needy."

Your breath hitched in your throat.

Kenma blinked, letting the silence stretch for a moment as he watched you squirm. His voice dropped lower, a little softer, more curious than accusatory. "...That it?"

You buried your face deeper into the pillow, voice muffled and near-incomprehensible.

"What was that?"

You turned just enough to peek at him with one eye, your lip trembling slightly. "I just... I wanna be held. But I’m gross and sweaty and disgusting, and I didn’t wanna bother you."

Kenma stared at you for a long beat. Then he gave a soft sigh, scooting closer until his knees bumped the side of the mattress.

"Move over."

Your eyes widened again. "But—"

"You think I care about sweat?"

"I literally sneezed in your hair yesterday."

"You did," he admitted. "And I’m still here."

You shifted slowly, cautiously, your heart fluttering like the fever had sparked all over again. Kenma climbed into bed beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight. He was careful not to press against you too hard at first, but once you leaned into him, he wrapped his arms around you with a slow, deliberate tenderness, pulling you close until your head rested just beneath his chin.

You melted.

The warmth of him, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way his fingers settled gently against your spine and started tracing soft, grounding lines—it was everything you hadn’t been able to ask for.

"Better?" he murmured.

Your voice cracked. "Yeah."

He kissed the top of your head, barely a brush of lips against fever-damp hair. "Next time, just say it. I can’t read your mind, you know."

You made a weak, embarrassed sound. "I didn’t want to be annoying."

"You’re always annoying," he mumbled, brushing his thumb against your arm. "But you’re mine. So it’s fine."

Despite the congestion, the soreness in your throat, the heat in your cheeks—you laughed. A breathy, tired little sound that still managed to be real.

He felt your smile against his collarbone.

Kenma held you tighter.

Neither of you moved for a long time. Minutes passed, then maybe an hour. Eventually, you dozed off in his arms, breathing soft and slow, and Kenma didn’t dare shift or get up.

He stayed right there, running his fingers along your back, as the fever began to retreat.

The medicine was working.

But more than that, you had finally let yourself rest in the place you needed most.

With him.

[sepia-stained-sunset]

“I am in the prime of my life”

“Uh huh”

“I am”, Suga insists, trying to clear his throat and wipe his running nose as discreetly as possible. He doesn’t succeed in the least. 

“ Uh huh ”, Daichi replies, only half-listening, busy digging through the medicine cabinet in their bathroom, “hey, where’s the thermometer?”

“Next to the cotton balls”, Suga answers reflexively, muttering a curse under his breath as Daichi buries his head in the cabinet, a grin spreading across his face. 

It seems that never knowing where the things in his own home are located comes in handy sometimes. He’s clearly conditioned Suga into shouting out directions for him whenever he asks for the kitchen scissors or the vinegar bottle or, in a particularly embarrassing instance, the glasses that had been perched on his face.

“Open up”, he orders as he approaches Suga’s bed, pressing the power button on the thermometer. Being roommates for so many months probably means that Daichi’s been trained into enabling Suga too, an equal exchange.

“Well”, Suga begins, sitting up against the headboard, “it all started when I was ten and- blegh ”

Case in point, Daichi had known that the second he gave him an opening, Suga would leap at the chance to be annoying for the sake of it, letting him stick the thermometer in his mouth without struggle.

Suga goes almost cross-eyed glaring up at him as he waits for the beep.

“You are a very bad man”, he informs Daichi, “a cruel, cruel, bad man”

“No fever”, Daichi confirms, tuning out the complaints with practiced ease, “it could still be the flu though. We’ll only know if you start throwing up or something”

He pauses. If he could help it, Suga wouldn’t be throwing up at all, but since it’s looking pretty much inevitable, he should probably minimize the damage to their shared living space. Suga probably wouldn’t be able to make a run for it in time. Just the littlest bit of movement seems to have sapped him of his strength, his eyelids drooping like he’s going to fall asleep where he’s sitting up.

“I can’t believe the kids betrayed me like this”, Suga says, clearing his throat again, “eight year olds are so cruel”

“I thought I was the cruel one?”

A sick Sugawara Koushi is not really funny, but he is a little bit entertaining. Daichi’s had years to get to know him, every shade. Everything from the way his hands shake when he’s nervous to the way he gets so pouty and clingy when he’s taken down by a bug.

In sickness and in health , he thinks to himself, and that’s not really funny either, this big, giant, idiotic, unrequited crush he’s harbouring on his best friend who he eats breakfast with every morning, but it’s hard not to feel a burst of affection when Suga is blinking up at him sleepily, clearly staying awake through willpower alone. Even though he’s a total wreck right now, even though Daichi is definitely going to catch whatever bug he’d brought back from the school, he still makes Daichi’s heart beat double time just by looking his way.

“You’re cruel, they’re cruel, the whole universe is cruel”, Suga declares, slipping under the covers again. The lights have been dimmed, but he should probably just switch them off if they’re hurting his head, “I hate kids”

“You don’t mean that. You love your kids”, he chides. It had been just another arrow through his heart, the way Suga loved his classroom and the way they adored him back tenfold. He’s heard Suga recount how some of the kids refused to be picked up from school at the end of the day, bawling that they’d rather stay back and continue doing crafts and reading time with their favourite teacher, more times than he can count. Of all the people to love from afar, he’d gone and picked the warmest person he’s ever known, and then moved in with him to boot.

“I’d love them more if I didn’t fall sick every time they did”, Suga grumbles. His voice is hoarser than it was last night. It’s clearly getting worse.

“Count yourself lucky that you didn’t bring back head lice or something”, Daichi weighs his options, “do you want a waste paper basket or for me to stay?”

Suga cracks his eyes open, glaring, “Daichi. You can’t skip work for me”

“I can get someone to cover for me, and I have some sick days I haven’t used yet”

“Sick days you’ll probably have to use once you catch whatever this is”, Suga points out sensibly, “you know you shouldn’t skip work. There's probably tons of murders that need solving”

“I mean, I hope not”, Daichi says, dithering. It’s stupid, but he knows how much Suga hates being left alone when he’s sick. It would suck for him to be in pain and have to deal with it himself.

“What?” Suga groans as he remains rooted to his spot by his bedside, “I’ll be fine. I’m probably just going to sleep through the day”

Daichi moves the waste basket from where it’s stowed under Suga’s study desk, placing it next to where he’s laying in bed. It’ll be fine. He’ll be fine. Suga’s obviously been sick before and he hasn’t died yet. Still, the thought of him throwing up with no one to rub his back or get him water is kind of sad. And Daichi wants to do it. Maybe that’s what it comes down to. The domesticity of it, that he wants Suga to feel better. That he wants to be the reason Suga feels better.

“Oh my god”, Suga sighs, clearly unimpressed by the way he’s hovering, “come here”

Daichi obeys. Suga leans to the side and for a second, Daichi worries that he’s about to have sick splattered across his feet, but all he does is pull open his bedside drawer and yank out a sticker sheet.

“Here”

Suga slaps a gold star on his arm haphazardly, “If you go to work and don’t spend all your time at the station worrying about me, you can keep this. If you don’t, then I take it back”

Daichi can’t conceal his laughter, adjusting the sticker so it won't fall off immediately, “You’re so-”

“Incredible? Amazing?” Suga interjects, eyes fluttering shut again, “Sleepy? Why yes, I am, thank you for noticing. Please turn the lights off when you leave”

So that’s his dismissal then. But if Suga’s sure he can handle this, then Daichi can trust him enough to go to work with a clear head. He fiddles with the sticker on his arm, smiling down at it.

He isn’t going to dwell on whether or not Suga is feeling better, but he is going to think of how adorable he is, the way time with him feels toffee-sweet, and he thinks that’s an acceptable workaround to Suga’s parameters. 

He has to rush to make it to the station on time, but it’s fine. He’s determined enough to deal with most anything today. After all, he has a sticker to earn.

[sossi-still-dreamin]

kuroken fanfic recs

my late night fanfiction readers... this one's for you. most of them are short and fluff centered, a lot of getting together and slice of life type fics :D

kodzuken/streamer kenma/social media

video games and gold rings by gnomeo- one of the best fics i've read so far where kodzuken's fans slowly realize kenma's married... and who he's married to <33

true ending by todxrxki - kenma proposes to kuroo via this epic awesome video game he made

show them you're mine by thechloediaries- not really a social media type fic i guess but rumors go about that kenma's not singe... speculation... that he's with... basically everyone but kuroo? now that simply cannot be...

sickfics

to you, i'll always come running by natsukashiiii - kenma is sick... and kuroo is out of town... or is he? the humor in this one had me punching air and hopefully you will be too ;)

busy by hq_tales- kuroo gets mad at kenma without knowing he's sick, loved the prompt for this one and is an all time fav

quiet as the rain by Purple_Rose2008 - i... erm kind of don't know what happened in this one (i read these pretty late uhm) but it had a 10/10 from me so? ig just trust hehe

getting together/confession

pretty girls make me nervous by ebenroot - super super fun to read, absolutely impossible to hate. kuroo realizes kenma is single and tries to get him a girl... or maybe a guy? minor background ships and fun

how kuroo found kenma by SuggestiveScribe - this ones a bit longer, 5 chapters. a little less clean than all the other ones, rated explicit but it is seriously so fun. the dirty humor and oikawa & kuroo friendship is everything and more. kuroo realizes he's in love with kenma and fumbles a little til' confession :D

you’re the brake lines failing (as my car swerves off the freeway) by ghostpot - a kenma confession this time, super super super awesome well written kenma pov. 5+1 type fic with a lil sickfic mashed in there. i loved it <3

enjoy ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

[yellowelectroslime]

Can I get some sick kenma headcanons?? And reader taking care of him? tyy

[notes: OKAYYYYY :DDD]

I imagine he’s always the first person to get sick whenever its flu season

Grouchy boy :C

A very angry cat.

Will complain non-stop to u (he’s the type to immediately stop talking when u cuddle him. So cuddle him. NOW)

He becomes extremely clingy and touch-starved like a cat

Will whine if u walk away 😭😭

Is literally like a cat

When you first walk into his room you can see him cocooned the cutest fluffiest cat-like burrito blanket

HATES eating medicine

Would rather suffer weeks being sick than drink a single SIP of his cough syrup

But obviously you won’t let him suffer so you have to bribe him with lots cuddles <3

Cook for him please :C he loves ur food (even if ur bad at cooking he will still eat all the food you make him :D)

sleeps a lot.

18 hours of the day when he's sick he's sleeping

the other 6 hours he's playing video games

overall: 7/10 when he's sick, he's rlly cute but also kind of annoying BUT ITS WORTH IT

[belatinysun]

❄️ Three Days ❄️

🪻 A KageHina SickFic

🪻 Written for the @kghnexchange 2025

🪻 A gift for @reviiely 🧡💙

🪻 KageHina & DaiSuga • Rated G • 11,9k

🪻 Kageyama misses practice one day. Shoyo is worried and discovers the real reason for his absence—and many sentiments he didn't know about.

🖇️: Read it here!!!

[haikyuuuuluverr]

Sick; Injured - KuroKen

This is a series I wanted to start, but basically it’s the Haikyuu ships with one getting sick and then fluff and one getting injured and then fluff <3

So yeah here we are starting off with KuroKen Part 1 - Kenma <333

6:30 AM. Wednesday, February 13th.

Kenma’s alarm rang per usual. But today, Kenma’s body didn’t seem to want to work with him. Usually he would sit up, turn off his alarm and go to his bathroom to wash his face and he would be up. But today, well… he could barely sit up. He turned off his alarm by throwing his hand onto it. It was too loud. Way too loud. It hurt his ears. His mind was too clouded to understand why he felt like this, but he dragged himself out of bed nonetheless.

Before he knew it, he was on the floor, back facing up and his head turned to the side. A dull pain ignited in his left side where he had landed and he tried to get up again but he couldn’t. He tried to force his arms to get him up, but the best he could get was holding himself up with his forearms before they buckled and fell back down. Was this a result of the all nighters he had pulled? He couldn’t even sit up. Kenma laid there. He took a while trying to collect his thoughts, but he eventually realized that he couldn’t breathe through his nose. It was clogged. He groaned softly as he tried to move his head to face his nightstand.

All his attempts were futile. After a minute or so, he somehow managed to throw his arm up onto the nightstand and grabbed his phone. Actually, he more so got his hand on top of the phone and then dragged it off the table and let it land on the floor. He tried to open his phone but it was too dark. The phone couldn’t recognize his face. He did his best to collect his thoughts and type in the passcode, but his mind was too foggy he couldn’t punch the right numbers in.

“Damn it…” he hissed under his breath. After a couple minutes of struggling, he got the right password in.

Sighing in relief, he calls his irritating, pushy and overly obnoxious captain and also somehow his best friend. He didn’t want to embarrass himself by texting weirdly. Kuroo picked up after the second ring, clearly still sleepy. Neither of them were morning people, but Kuroo seemed so happy that Kenma had reached out first—so much so, in fact, that he seemed like a morning person now.

“Kenma?” Kuroo’s voice was much lower than Kenma was used to. But it helped. It didn’t hurt his ears. And Kuroo had a happy tone to his voice that Kenma could hear through the line.

“Ku-…roo…” Kenma mumbled. His own voice was raspy and low. He could barely recognize himself.

On the phone, Kenma could hear Kuroo’s confusion and concern. “Kenma? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” There were so many questions it made Kenma’s already spinning head even more fogged.

“Ku…roo-…” That same unrecognizable tone said once more. Kenma tried mumbling for help but couldn’t get his sore throat to say anything else.

Somehow, Kuroo seemed to understand he needed help. “I’m coming over, we can talk then. Stay on the phone with me, Ken.”

Kenma wanted to thank him but he was so exhausted and weak. He just made a hum in agreement. Throughout the five minutes it took for Kuroo to get to his house, Kuroo made sure to talk to him the whole way to keep him awake.

Kuroo started asking him yes or no questions to keep his mind running and awake. After a while he says. “There’s obviously something wrong, so if you’re injured give me one acknowledgment, if you’re sick give me two and if it’s something else give me three.” Kuroo was clearly trying to figure out the situation, and although there was an underlying tone of concern in his voice, it was overshadowed by a calmness and trying to keep Kenma awake.

Kenma gave two hums. That’s what he thought he was, at least.

“Alright. I’ll figure out your symptoms when I get there. I’m outside, just let me grab the spare key, don’t bother getting up.”

Kenma hummed again as he heard the faint jingle of keys and the door opening. He tried getting up but couldn’t. “Where are you, your room?” Kenma gave another hum. “Okay. I’m coming up.” The call ended and Kenma heard footsteps gradually getting louder.

Kuroo’s head popped into the doorway. His hair was a disheveled mess and his eyes were tired. He was in joggers and a jacket like he had slipped them on and had no care for what he looked like. Seeing Kenma on the floor, Kuroo’s breath hitched. Kenma shifted his head to look up at Kuroo with pleading eyes. Basically asking him to help.

“Kitten… you seem so weak.” Kuroo’s lips tugged downwards into a frown and he squat down to Kenma’s level, helping Kenma sit up. First he turned Kenma around, then put one hand onto Kenma’s back to stabilize him and the other hand held Kenma’s hand to signaling he would be with him every step of the way. Kenma took a shaky breath. It broke Kuroo’s heart. “Let’s get you onto the bed. I’ll call into the school for you.” Kenma could only nod half heartedly. Kuroo let go of Kenma’s hand and slipped it underneath his knees. The other near his neck as he assembled the smaller in his arms and set him down on the bed in a laying position.

Kenma shuddered. Kuroo notices this and pulls Kenma’s blanket up, wrapping it around him. Then sitting down on the bed next to him, keeping his legs off. Kuroo looked at Kenma with a warm expression. He checked Kenma’s temperature by feeling his forehead and neck, then checking his pulse. “You’re burning up… do you feel okay? Need anything? Do you want me to run to the store to get you medicine?”

The younger groans and starts tossing and turning in discomfort. The blocker immediately starts stroking his head and holding his hand, trying to calm him down and get him comfortable again. The setter tossed and turned some more before finally stopping and relaxing with his head on Kuroo’s thigh. Kuroo’s eyes widened and he turned a bright red, but of course, no protest. “I need to get you medicine, Ken…” Kenma shook his head and wrapped his arms around Kuroo’s thigh. This made the older blush even harder but he smiles softly. “I would stay here, but at least let me get you a damp towel to lower that fever. I’ll be back before you know it, okay?” He smiles. Kenma nods and lets go of his leg.

Kuroo sighs and walks out to the kitchen, having been there dozens of times before as Kenma’s best friend. Personally, he didn’t think it was that obvious he liked the younger. But according to Yakkun, it was clear as day to the point Lev could see it. And although Kuroo would confess, the second the thought came up in his mind it vanished and his confidence crumbled. He felt his cheeks heating up and his fists clenching.

Menwhile, Kenma was lying in the room, tossing and turning again. He couldn’t feel at ease without Kuroo’s comfort and warmth. He needed the hair strokes, the hand holding, and something warm to lean on. But it had to be Kuroo doing it. Anyone else and he’d be creeped out. Of course, he’d never admit that. So now he laid there tossing and turning again, waiting for Kuroo to come back with the damp towel.

After about 5 minutes, Kenma groaned. What is taking him so long? He knows where everything is. He forced himself out of bed again, but only his arms were properly working. He caught himself before he fell face first onto the floor, but then had to slowly descend with his arms, onto his forearms, his elbows and his upper arms all while scooting himself forward to get himself off the bed. He finally landed with a soft thud and then clapped his hands to get Kuroo’s attention from the kitchen. He hoped the other would hear.

Kuroo was still a blushing mess, but he snapped out of it as he heard the clap from the setter’s room. “Coming, sorry!” He scrambled to prepare a cold bowl of water and a face cloth, then wetting the cloth and wringing it out before dashing upstairs, careful not to spill the water.

When he came into the room, Kenma was on the floor again. Kuroo chuckles, but his eyes were filled with concern. “Kitten, why’re you on the floor again?” He sets the cloth and bowl down on his nightstand and slips the setter into a bridal style carry once more, putting him back onto the bed and making sure to be delicate. He checked the time. 6:57 AM. Kuroo grabs the cloth and uses it to gently wipe away any sweat the setter had, then left it on top of his head. “I’m going to call the school and tell them we won’t be there.”

Kuroo was about to leave, when he felt the back of his shirt being tugged back gently. He turned to face the other who was holding onto his shirt weakly.

“What’s up Kitten? Something wro-” Kuroo yelped as he got dragged back into the bed laying down with more strength than he had expected Kenma to have. He was flabbergasted at first, but then his face slowly creeped into the smirk that tended to piss everyone he knew off. “So you don’t have enough strength to stand but you can pull me like that, huh?”

Kenma ignored him and grabbed one of Kuroo’s hands, putting it onto his head as a signal he wanted Kuroo to stroke his hair, then grabbed his other hand and interlocked their fingers, then draped one leg over Kuroo and his head on the older’s chest.

Kuroo didn’t seem to understand for a moment and was frozen in place, before a low chuckle resonated through his chest and he stroked Kenma’s head and held his hand, staying there for Kenma to lean on. He grabbed the towel on Kenma’s head and dipped it into the bowl again, wringing it before wiping Kenma’s sweat again and rearranging it onto his head.

Kenma groans as the older takes away his hands to fix the damp cloth. Although, the cloth was kind of refreshing so it made up for it.

“I’ll just tell Yakkun to call the school for us, okay Ken?” Kuroo asks, putting his hand back onto Kenma’s head, the other grabbing his phone.

Kenma hummed in acknowledgment as he settled back into Kuroo’s warmth. A quick thought flicked in his mind. His face immediately reddened.

What even are we?

But Kenma shoved the thought away, hearing Yaku on the other end of the line on Kuroo’s phone. “Kuroo, it’s like 7, what do you want right now?” The familiar voice was tinged with exhaustion and exasperation. “I swear if this is a prank.”

“it’s not, Yakkun.” Kuroo muttered, voice unusually low and cautious.

A pause. Then—“Go on.”

“Ken’s sick, need you to call in and tell Coach and the school neither of us will be there today.” Kuroo explained, fingers threading mindlessly through Kenma’s silky hair.

“…fine, but only because it’s Kenma. Are you with him right now?” Yaku’s voice had an unmistakable edge of concern.

“Yep.”

“Lemme hear him, just to make sure you’re telling the truth.”

Kuroo chuckled. “Yeah, fine. He can’t say anything more than a hum though.”

“Fine by me.” Kuroo didn’t need to see Yaku to know he was grinning mischievously.

Kuroo put the phone hovering near Kenma’s mouth. “Here ya go, Kitten.”

Kenma blinked before giving a low mumble. “Mmm…”

Another pause.

“That’s all I needed to hear. Anyway, get better soon Kenma, and Kuroo, if I hear any complaints from Kenma when he’s better, you are dead. Hear me? Dead.” Yaku hissed.

“Okay, okay! I get it, Demon-Senpai, don’t have to tell me twice.” Kuroo rolled his eyes, even if Yaku couldn’t see it.

“Yeah, yeah. Bye.” Yaku dismissed.

“Bye, Demon-Senpai~” Kuroo teased as Yaku hung up.

(STAY TUNED FOR UPDATES ON THIS POST!!)

[iaminlove24]

Yoo 🤘🏻 guys I am back with another Haikyuu Sickfic.. 😁.. I love writing Sickfic please 🥺 don't judge me..

Title : Wrong Number, Right Person

Summary : When a sick and feverish Oikawa accidentally calls Kageyama instead of Iwaizumi during a painful stomachache, chaos ensues. Kageyama, confused but concerned, rushes over to help—and ends up staying the night to care for him. The next morning, Iwaizumi walks in, catches them in the act (of wholesome caretaking), and captures the moment for future blackmail. Oikawa is humiliated, Kageyama is flustered, and Iwaizumi is thriving. A wrong number leads to unexpected comfort—and a whole lot of teasing.

Words : 2418

Scene: "Wrong Number, Right Person"

The pale blue glow of the phone screen lit up Oikawa’s sweaty face. His body trembled under his thin blanket, beads of sweat lining his forehead. His gut twisted again, a sharp pang of gas pain shooting across his abdomen.

“Ugh… damn it…” Oikawa hissed, curling tighter. His head throbbed, his fever spiking. He reached out with a shaky hand, unlocked his phone, and with half-lidded eyes, tapped on Iwa-chan’s contact—or so he thought.

The call rang twice before being picked up.

“Hello?” came the voice.

Oikawa immediately groaned, barely registering anything beyond survival. “Iwa–Iwa-chan… it hurts. My stomach’s killing me, it’s all twisted, and I—I have a fever. I think I’m gonna throw up or explode or something…”

There was a pause on the line.

“Iwa– listen—my spare key's under the flower pot, okay? Just come in. I’m in my room, bed. I can't—ugh—I can't get up…”

“Oikawa–”

He coughed weakly. “Please hurry… it’s really bad… please don’t be mad, okay?”

Click.

Kageyama Tobio blinked at his phone.

“…What the hell just happened?”

His first instinct was to toss the phone away and pretend none of this happened. But he just sat there on his bed, staring at the ceiling, heart pounding.

“That idiot thought I was Iwaizumi,” he muttered. “Why the hell would he even call me—no, wait, he didn’t mean to.”

Kageyama looked down at the screen, thumb hovering over the contact. He wasn’t even sure why he was still holding the phone.

He could ignore this. It wasn’t his business.

But then again… what if Oikawa was seriously sick? What if he passed out? What if—

“Damn it.”

Tugging on a hoodie and grabbing his bike keys, Kageyama muttered to himself as he stormed out the door, “He better not throw up on me.”

---

Scene: Oikawa’s Apartment – 20 minutes later

Kageyama arrived, panting lightly from pedaling hard. He hesitated outside the door, eyeing the flower pot. Lifting it, just like Oikawa said, he found the key. His grip tightened on it as he muttered under his breath, “I’m gonna get yelled at for this, aren’t I…”

The apartment was dim and stuffy. A faint whimper came from down the hall.

He walked in slowly, kicking off his shoes. The bedroom door was slightly ajar. He pushed it open.

Oikawa was curled on his side, his shirt ridden up slightly, revealing his pale, bloated stomach. A heat pack lay half-slid off him. He was trembling, eyes shut tight, lips parted in shallow gasps.

Kageyama stepped closer. “…Oikawa?”

No response. Oikawa looked miserable.

“Hey,” he said again, a little louder. “Oikawa.”

The older boy stirred, brows scrunching. “Iwa…? You came…”

Kageyama’s mouth twitched. “Idiot. You called me, not Iwaizumi.”

Oikawa opened his eyes slightly. “What…?” His voice was hoarse. “No I… didn’t…”

“You did. You called me, said your stomach hurts, told me where the spare key is, then hung up.”

Oikawa blinked slowly, eyes glassy from fever. “Oh…”

“…You want me to leave?”

There was a pause. Oikawa whimpered and clutched his stomach again.

“No… please stay,” he mumbled, barely audible.

Kageyama sighed deeply. He crouched down next to the bed, assessing him. “Where does it hurt?”

“Middle… and a bit lower… I’ve been gassy all day and now it’s just tight and awful…”

Kageyama turned red. “I-I didn’t need that much detail.”

“Shut up,” Oikawa croaked. “You’re already here. Help or don’t.”

There was an awkward silence. Kageyama got up and looked through the medicine cabinet, found a heating pad and a bottle labeled Simethicone – Gas Relief. He returned, holding them up.

“Is this what you take for gas?”

Oikawa nodded weakly.

Kageyama handed him the tablet and water, then gently switched the warm heating pad with the cold one.

A few minutes passed.

The pain must’ve eased slightly, because Oikawa slowly unc curled and looked at him blearily. “Thanks…”

Kageyama looked at the floor. “…You’re welcome.”

Oikawa mumbled, “You didn’t have to come…”

“Yeah, well… you sounded like you were dying.”

“…Still. Thanks, Kageyama.”

Kageyama cleared his throat. “…Want me to call Iwaizumi?”

There was a pause.

“…No. Just stay. Please.”

Kageyama blinked. Then sat down in the chair by the bed. “Fine. But if you fart, I’m leaving.”

Oikawa let out a small, weak laugh.

“…I’ll try.”

Morning – Around 7:50 AM

Iwaizumi Hajime stood outside Oikawa’s house, phone to his ear, annoyance growing with each unanswered ring.

“Pick up, dumbass…”

Beep.

“No voicemail, either? Seriously?”

He stared at the screen with a frown. “He was acting weird yesterday, too… something’s up.”

After a moment of hesitation, he marched up the steps and lifted the flower pot by the door. The spare key was still there. That was already suspicious. Oikawa never left that key out unless he was expecting someone.

Unlocking the door, Iwaizumi stepped inside quietly. The apartment was still dim, curtains shut, and it smelled faintly of menthol and something medicinal.

“…Tooru?”

No answer.

He followed the scent and silence to the bedroom. When he pushed the door open, the scene that met him made him stop in the doorway.

There was Kageyama Tobio.

Fast asleep.

On the floor.

Back slouched against the side of Oikawa’s bed, arms crossed, chin dropped against his chest. His shoes were neatly placed by the door, and a hoodie had been folded up under his head like a makeshift pillow.

And on the bed—

Oikawa lay sprawled on his side, pale and clearly feverish. A fever cooling patch stuck to his forehead. His arms loosely hugged a warm heating pad on his stomach, and a strip of gas relief meds lay beside a half-empty glass of water on the nightstand.

Iwaizumi blinked.

Then—he smirked.

Silently pulling out his phone, he crouched and snapped a photo.

Snap!

Then he grinned wickedly.

“Blackmail material, secured.”

---

Kageyama stirred with a groan, squinting up blearily. “Wha… huh?”

He looked around, still dazed—then spotted Iwaizumi, who was standing smugly by the bed.

Kageyama paled.

“Wait—no—I didn’t mean to—he called me—I didn’t—”

“Relax, I know,” Iwaizumi said, biting back a chuckle. “He told me the same once. Left the key under the flower pot and everything. Looks like he thought you were me last night.”

Kageyama looked away, flustered. “He was in bad shape. Fever, stomach pain… I couldn’t just ignore it.”

“Didn’t think you would.” Iwaizumi looked at him, a little impressed. “So… you stayed all night?”

Kageyama nodded reluctantly. “Didn’t plan to. But he asked me to stay.”

“…Huh.”

Iwaizumi’s gaze softened slightly as he looked over at Oikawa, who still hadn’t woken up. He brushed some of the messy brown hair from his forehead and felt his skin.

“Still warm, but not as bad. You probably helped keep him calm.”

Kageyama looked surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah. When he gets sick like this, he gets whiny and dramatic. If he let you stay, that means he was actually scared.”

Iwaizumi stood, stretching. “I’ll take over from here. Go get some sleep. Or breakfast.”

Kageyama looked hesitant. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi tossed him a grin. “Besides… I already got proof of this moment.”

Kageyama stiffened. “You took a picture?!”

“Oh yeah,” Iwaizumi smirked. “Gonna frame it. Maybe send it to the entire Seijoh group chat.”

“Don’t you dare—”

“Relax,” Iwaizumi laughed. “I’ll only use it when he annoys me.”

Kageyama stood, brushing off his hoodie, face burning. But before he left, he glanced at Oikawa one more time.

“Tell him… uh… never mind.”

Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow. “Tch. You’re just as awkward as he is.”

As Kageyama left, Iwaizumi pulled a chair up to Oikawa’s bed, settling in.

“Dummy,” he muttered affectionately, brushing his fingers through Oikawa’s hair. “Calling the wrong person… but lucky you. He came anyway.”

Oikawa stirred slightly, eyes fluttering open. “Iwa…?”

“Yeah, I’m here, dumbass.”

“…Thought you were already here…”

“I wasn’t. But Kageyama was.” Iwaizumi smirked. “He babysat you all night. Pretty impressive for someone you claim you hate.”

Oikawa blinked in confusion. “Kageyama…?”

“…Yup. You called him instead of me.”

Oikawa’s face turned red.

“WHAT?!”

---

Oikawa sat up so fast his head spun. The fever patch flopped sideways onto his cheek.

“I CALLED KAGEYAMA?!”

Iwaizumi casually sipped from the bottle of water on the nightstand, raising a brow. “Yup. Poured your heart out to him too. Told him your stomach was twisted and you were gonna throw up or explode. Real poetic.”

Oikawa covered his face with both hands and groaned like he’d been stabbed. “No, no, no, no, no. Tell me you’re messing with me. Tell me he didn’t actually come here.”

“Oh, he came, alright,” Iwaizumi grinned. “Let himself in with the spare key, gave you medicine, switched out your heating pad, and stayed all night. Slept on the floor like a loyal dog.”

“STOP,” Oikawa squeaked through his hands.

“Oh, and—” Iwaizumi held up his phone.

“No. No! No photos!”

Too late.

Iwaizumi turned the screen to show him. It was perfect: Kageyama curled up on the floor, head resting against the bedframe like a loyal knight. Oikawa on the bed, curled up like a gas-stricken drama prince, fever patch still in place, mouth half open.

Oikawa let out a strangled noise. “YOU TOOK A PICTURE?!”

“I mean—what kind of best friend would I be if I didn’t immortalize this moment?”

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

Oikawa groaned, flopping back dramatically onto the bed, arm flung over his eyes. “He’s never gonna look me in the eyes again. I told him my stomach was going to explode, Hajime.”

“You also told him not to be mad at you and to please hurry. Real touching stuff.” Iwaizumi smirked.

“Shut up!!” Oikawa grabbed the pillow and smushed it over his face.

“Don’t worry,” Iwaizumi added, smugly crossing his arms. “He didn’t mock you or anything. He actually looked kind of… worried. Stayed by your side. You should be grateful.”

“…I can never face him again.”

“You can,” Iwaizumi said, standing and going to the kitchen. “You just won’t stop being dramatic about it.”

“HE HEARD ME TALKING ABOUT GAS, HAJIME.”

“You made him hear about gas. There’s a difference.”

---

Scene: Later That Day – Group Chat: ‘Seijoh Chaos Squad’

[Iwaizumi Hajime]:

📸 [Photo Attached]

Guess who didn’t call me when he was sick?

[Hanamaki Takahiro]:

WAIT. IS THAT KAGEYAMA???

[Matsukawa Issei]:

💀💀💀💀💀💀

[Yahaba Shigeru]:

I thought he hated Kageyama???

[Kunimi Akira]:

Apparently not when he’s dying of gas.

[Kyotani Kentarou]:

this is the best thing i’ve ever seen

[Watari Shinji]:

You good, Oikawa? Or should I call Kageyama again?

[Oikawa Tooru]:

DELETE. THAT. PHOTO.

[Hanamaki Takahiro]:

So anyway, when’s the wedding?

Matsukawa Issei:

Does Kags get best man privileges or maid of honor?

---

Scene: Oikawa’s Room – Present

Oikawa lay curled under the blanket, clutching his pillow like a lifeline. “I’m going to move. Change my number. Become a monk.”

Iwaizumi chuckled, gently tossing a sports drink onto the bed. “Or, you could just thank the guy who literally sat through your digestive meltdown and didn’t even laugh.”

“…He didn’t laugh?”

“Not once. He looked worried. Said you asked him to stay. Then stayed.”

Oikawa was quiet for a long moment.

“…Maybe I should text him.”

“Maybe you should apologize and say thank you.”

Oikawa sighed dramatically, grabbing his phone and squinting at the screen.

To: Kageyama Tobio

Hey. I heard what happened. I… uh… didn’t mean to call you. But… thank you. For staying. And for not laughing. Also—please forget everything I said about exploding. Forever.

He hit send, then immediately buried his face in the pillow again.

“…He’s never gonna forget it, is he?”

Iwaizumi patted his back. “Oh no. He’ll remember this until the day he dies.”

Scene: Kageyama’s House – That Afternoon

Kageyama sat at his desk, trying to review his set formations, but his eyes kept flicking back to his phone.

Eventually, it buzzed.

From: Oikawa Tooru

> Hey. I heard what happened. I… uh… didn’t mean to call you. But… thank you. For staying. And for not laughing. Also—please forget everything I said about exploding. Forever.

Kageyama stared at the message.

A weird tightness squeezed in his chest. He didn’t know how to respond right away. For a long moment, he just sat there, thumb hovering, unsure if he should say something back or pretend he was already asleep at 4 p.m.

But instead, he opened a new message.

To: Iwaizumi Hajime

> Hey. Is he okay?

…Don’t tell him I asked.

He put his phone down, face red. “Idiot. Why am I even worrying…”

---

Scene: Oikawa’s Room – Meanwhile

Iwaizumi’s phone pinged as he poured soup into a bowl. He glanced down.

From: Kageyama Tobio

> Hey. Is he okay?

…Don’t tell him I asked.

Iwaizumi froze.

A slow, evil smile crept onto his face.

“Ohhh, buddy… you just handed me gold.”

---

Scene: Five Minutes Later – Oikawa in Bed

Oikawa was still half-hiding under the blanket, scrolling mindlessly, when Iwaizumi walked in carrying the soup and a very smug expression.

“Your soup, my dramatic disaster.”

“Thanks,” Oikawa mumbled, sitting up slowly.

Iwaizumi set the tray down… then cleared his throat dramatically.

“Oh, by the way,” he said nonchalantly, “someone wanted to know if you’re okay.”

Oikawa raised an eyebrow. “…Who?”

“Oh, I can’t say.” Iwaizumi grinned. “They explicitly told me not to tell you they asked.”

Oikawa narrowed his eyes. “So, someone you know... who cares... but doesn’t want me to know they care…”

He paused.

“Was it Kageyama?!”

Iwaizumi didn't answer.

Instead, he walked backward out of the room, grinning wide, and sang:

🎵 “He caaaares about youuuu~” 🎵

Oikawa’s jaw dropped. “HAJIME!”

Iwaizumi poked his head back in. “He also told me to not tell you, so you can go ahead and add that to your little ‘Reasons to Die of Embarrassment’ list.”

“OH MY GOD I KNEW IT—”

“You two are so dramatic,” Iwaizumi chuckled, walking off.

---

Scene: Kageyama’s House – A Few Minutes Later

Kageyama’s phone buzzed again.

From: Iwaizumi Hajime

> So… he knows you asked. 😁

From: Kageyama Tobio

> I TOLD YOU NOT TO TELL HIM

WHY WOULD YOU

From: Iwaizumi Hajime

> It was either tell him or burst. I’m only human.

Also… his face went redder than a tomato. You're welcome.

From: Kageyama Tobio

> I hate you

From: Iwaizumi Hajime

> You really don’t.

Soo that's it.. 😁.. I hope you like it.. I guess it's a bit too long sorry 😅.. I just got carried away.. but enjoy anyways.. 😉 and let me know if you have any specific request 😚..

☺️don't forget to leave note.. bye 👋🏻 guys love 😘 you.. 💓

[crimsonrekii]

REALLY rough draft on the fic in working on

Idk if I should finish it so lmk if u would read it :3

Kagehina sick fic <333

[lilimonarch]

The little ways I learned I loved you in this little paradise - Haikyu!! Oneshot

WC: ~4686

Daichi is a flower shop owner desperately trying to get his business off the ground. Sugawara is wedding-planner in desperate need of flower arrangements and a reliable business partner. Slowly, Daichi realizes their bond may be more than just business partners.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58839904

~

“Please be open, please be open, please!”

This was the final chance Daichi would have to make his dreams come true, he figured as much while he fidgeted with the bucket of roses in the front of the flower shop which he affectionately called his pride and joy. Opening only a few months earlier, he was already faced with the troubles of owning a small business.

Particularly, the solitude which came from starting it alone.

He had previously worked in larger flower businesses in the city, but he strived for so much more than that. Daichi wanted that personal connection with his customers, not to be another face in the crowd. Yet, the world had not been kind, and the business of The Flower Patch had been much too slow to reasonably keep up for much longer.

His head perked up at the pleading voice, the familiarity of the doorbell ringing on entrance. “Welcome to The Flower Patch, yes, we are open. How can I help you?” He turned his head to see a man slightly shorter than himself, ashen gray hair, and an exasperated smile.

“Oh, thank goodness. Hi, do you do wedding arrangements?”

“Yeah, I can do that.”

Daichi was not too sure how to describe the feeling, but it appeared the stranger who randomly entered his flower shop was going to change everything, he could feel it. “Well, it’s just me, but I can assure you I have experience making flower arrangements from arches to centerpieces,” Daichi started, internally praying the man did not look down on his newness to the business owner world and rush out the door the second Daichi took out his portfolio. “My name is Sawamura Daichi, and it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Thank you, Sawamura. Sugawara Koushi, or just the wedding planner,” the man smiled and held out his hand for a handshake. Daichi handed Sugawara a book full of images from flowers he had arranged from since he was sixteen to now, well into his twenties. While Sugawara flipped through the book (a good sign he was not planning on simply marching out of the store just yet), Daichi could not stop from analyzing the man across the counter.

Despite the gray hair, Sugawara seemed so young and bright, other than the eyebags under his eyes. They were hardly noticeable, but Daichi was always a stickler for those characteristics. “Oh my gosh, is this you?” Sugawara piped up, and Daichi looked at the page his current-almost-customer was looking at.

A teenage Daichi sitting in front of a wedding arc, a mixture of flowers blending into an almost sunset-like gradient. It was one of his first successful arches, an arc he had set on doing for his sister. One of the few arches full of color, compared to the white and pale arrangements he was used to.

Daichi kept forgetting to remove the picture due to his own appearance in it and will forever internally curse at himself for not getting a sole picture of the arch for portfolio. “Aww, look at you. Just a little guy, very sweet,” Sugawara commented, and Daichi covered his face to hide the flush. “And this arrangement? It’s absolutely gorgeous, and I need one just like it.”

“Really?”

Sugawara looked at him with eyes practically aglow, the face people get when they are too excited about a plan which has barely come together in their own heads, let alone a plan built enough to share with friends, not including Daichi who just so happened to be a stranger to Sugawara up until this point. “Yes, my florist bailed on me, but she was such a jerk. You, my friend, how would you be interested in a partnership? You do my flowers; I bring you business.”

Daichi must have been right; this was just the turnaround he needed for this business. “Yes!” He grinned, shaking Sugawara’s hand which was too soft for even his own sanity and wellbeing. “Absolutely, yes!”

~

The arc Sugawara had briefly mentioned in their first encounter had not been too far off from what he needed ordered for a lovely couple getting married… today, right now. The original plan was for Daichi to have everything set for Sugawara to pick up, but one thing led to another, and here Daichi was, standing at the venue with his pickup truck full of flowers.

It was awkward, seeing decorators and venue organizers bustling around the site trying to get everything ready, and Daichi stood outside his truck waiting for Sugawara.

“Hey, Sawamura?”

Daichi looks up to see Sugawara, clipboard in hand with a black button-up and dress pants which flow to the bottom of his ankles. His heart skipped a beat, but he shook his head in attempts to stay focused. “Right, your flowers?”

“Thank you so much,” Sugawara grinned, not waiting a second until the trunk door was down to climb in and start handing the flowers to decorator assistance. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t come get them, it’s pretty busy around here and I got busy.”

“It’s completely fine!” Daichi reassures him, helping to move the flowers into other people's hands and clear his truck. It has been ages since Daichi had actively seen a wedding being put together, another truck pulling in with a large three-tiered cake. “I can tell. Don’t worry, I’ll get out of your way.”

“You’re never going to be in my way,” Sugawara rolls his eyes, slamming the pickup trunk closed. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“Again, I don’t mind it at all. I’d deliver them much further for you,” the last comment slips out of his mouth and catches him off guard just as much as it does Sugawara, Daichi immediately moving to cover his face before the blush grows. “I’m heading out now. If you need anything, just call.”

“Right. Thanks!”

The encounter and sudden flirtatious comment keeps Daichi on his toes for the rest of his busy hours at the flower shop, and it continues to plague his mind when he’s cleaning up in the quiet hours. “God, what am I doing?” He shakes his head, rearranging some roses potted near the front counter. At least the night would be able to calm him, his busy hours were over and hardly anyone popped in past 6 pm.

“Sawamura!”

Well, anyone except Sugawara. “Welcome to The Flower Patch, what can I do for you?”

“Not me, just the wedding planner. By the way, the flowers were beautiful,” Sugawara comes in, his shirt buttoned high now with its two top buttons unbuttoned, a much more relaxed and fitting appearance for Sugawara. “The couple was so pleased with how everything went, thank goodness. It was really stressing me out,” Sugawara admits before putting a small white box on the table.

“What’s this?”

“Me trying to make it up to you.”

Daichi shakes his head, slowly going to open the box. “Suga, you didn’t have to. Delivering the flowers is part of my job,” Daichi sighs before opening the box, a generous slice of chocolate cake sitting in it. He could already see Sugawara grinning at the way Daichi’s face lit up. “Aww, Sugawara.”

“You should call me Suga more often,” Sugawara smiles before leaning against the front counter. “And I insist, you were eyeing the cake earlier. Snuck a piece away, it’s the least I could do.” He looks up at Daichi, hands reaching across the counter while he sports a mischievous grin.

Daichi’s heart skips a beat. He has to put the box down on the counter before he drops it. Play it cool, play it cool. “Well, thanks. I really appreciate it, Sugawara.”

“No Suga?” Sugawara frowns, getting a nervous laugh out of Daichi.

Daichi takes a deep breath, trying to calm his heart which is on the border of heading out to the races. “Nice try, Sugawara. Thank you for the cake. I look forward to future business with you.”

The shop goes silent before both burst out in laughter. It starts with a small chuckle from Sugawara before he doubles against the counter in giggles, Daichi following suit until the wedding planner composes himself to get up. “Fine, fine. I’ll see you, Sawamura.”

“Yeah, see you.”

~

The store is technically closed when Daichi hears the familiar ring of the bell. A few months after the first wedding he did with Sugawara, and it appears that Sugawara was the second chance at his life as an independent businessowner. Nowadays, his flower shop is bustling with people, and there is no reason for Daichi to keep The Flower Patch open so late anymore.

Nowadays, he spends the extra hours on arrangement designs (if he is not working on wedding business). Flower combinations, color gradients he may not have considered before, it is all so much more freeing. He still does not leave for home until nine, because although the public would notice Daichi’s shop closes at six, it stays open for three extra hours for one single person.

“Welcome to The Flower Patch, what can I do for you?” Daichi responds to the bell.

“Not me, just the wedding planner and my dear Daichi, you are going to hate me for this one,” Sugawara bursts through the unlocked door, disturbing the silence of The Flower Patch, as he typically did.

Daichi stops arranging a bouquet of orange roses for the fifth time that minute, crossing his arms and looking Sugawara up and down. “Suga, I could never hate you. Any business is good business.”

Sugawara shakes his head, slapping down a file of papers on the front counter. “This really rich couple is getting married, small but expensive wedding. Picture it, the wealthy cosplay small country.”

Daichi lets out a small laugh, reaching out for the file, conveniently using orange roses. Orange rose centerpiece, twigs and sticks, almost resembling a campfire. “Suga… at this rate, every client of yours is wealthy,” he jokes, flipping through the pages. “This stuff is easy, shouldn’t take more than two months to get the job done.”

Silence.

Daichi looks at Sugawara.

“Sugawara?”

Sugawara blinks twice.

“About that…” Sugawara gulps and Daichi’s eyes narrow. “They are getting married in two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” Daichi’s eyes widen, and his sudden positivity is stripped away. “To go to the market, find the flowers, hydrate them, and arrange thirty centerpieces by hand? Are you crazy?” Daichi shakes his head. “Thirty? Market shopping typically takes three days, and you’re telling me I have two weeks to get the entire thing job?”

“Yeah, I know, but please!” Sugawara sighs, closing up the file for Daichi. “The wife, she’s an influencer. The couple offered to pay a 35% increase for the rush.”

Thirty-five? That is a lot of money.

“I can see it on your face. It is a lot of money,” Sugawara commented. “Daichi, I swear I’ll never ask you to do something like this again, but just this once. Heck, I’ll find some high school volunteer to help if you need it, but please.”

“No need for that,” Daichi looked at the orange rose bouquet in the front of his shop, Sugawara’s pleading face, and his hands, slightly coarse from his flower work. “I’ll do it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah!” Daichi said the words without hesitation, but he could already tell he would slightly regret his decision. The arranging part was the easy bit, all the prep-work was going to be the killer, not to mention still trying to keep his shop open.

Despite all that, he could not say no, not to Sugawara. Not to his pleading face, upbeat smile, not to him. Daichi looked at Sugawara from across the counter, the way his face lit up from a positive response, his grin stretching from ear to ear. “You’re amazing!” Sugawara grinned before jumping up and heading to the door. “If you have any questions, just message me. Thank you so much, you’re awesome!”

And then he left.

Daichi looked at the door and then at his hands, suddenly shaking. His heart was racing in his chest, and he almost admitted it to himself, the obvious elephant in the room. “You sure are something, Suga,” he shook his head and took the file, heading to the back of the shop to start scheduling purchases for the flower arrangements.

Daichi did not admit it that night.

A part of him wanted to, but he couldn’t.

~

There were about thirty centerpieces highlighting orange roses in the back of Daichi’s shop as he scrolled through his laptop for emails about other business, only about six in the morning. His hands shook as he clicked through digital folders of payment trackers, lists of pending orders, all the works. Nowadays, the shop is closed on Sundays, but Daichi stayed through the night to finish those arrangements for Sugawara.

He had not realized it as Sunday until Sugawara at around four in the morning messaged him a chirpy Good morning! I’ll be there around seven for the flowers.

Daichi was not the most used to pulling all-nighters, not even when school was at its hardest, but here he was. Essentially, for Sugawara. Maybe it was exhaustive delirium bringing all these thoughts to his brain, but Daichi knows he would never do this for anyone else.

The third yawn that hour slips out from under him, and he shakes his head to move to the back of his shop, making sure the flowers are correctly protected and hydrated, ready to go for when Sugawara gets here. Each organized, Sugawara’s order label named correctly, everything was finally set to go with about an hour to spare.

The back of the shop was quite a switch from the front, not many windows to be bright and comforting to possible customers, but functional enough for Daichi to work on his projects, not to mention, a slightly older velvet couch for when his back hurt from arrangement work standing or sitting on a stool in his workspace.

The exhaustion was truly getting the best of him as he subconsciously moved to the small velvet couch with his laptop to get a change of pace while checking emails on the laptop, now sitting on his laptop. Not too much later, he found his eyes slipping shut with only the sound of his laptop fan running disturbing the silence.

When he woke up, the flowers were gone, and his awkward sitting position on the couch with his laptop had been switched to him laying down with a hoodie covering his torso, laptop placed neatly down on the ground beside him. Daichi jumped up with a start, looking around to where his arrangements had gone. When he reached for his phone in his pocket, his first notification was a message from his favorite wedding planner.

Hi Daichi! You left the back door unlocked. You were completely knocked out when I came by, so I didn’t want to wake you up. I took them, don’t worry.

Daichi felt relieved.

You’re so amazing! Your favorite wedding planner falls in love with the flowers more and more every day! <3

Daichi eyed the last text, looking at how the sweater which covered him like a blanket was not even his, it was Sugawara���s. It was slightly small if Daichi were to actively put it on, and it had the smell of Sugawara’s signature cologne.

His heart sank to his stomach. “You really are something, Suga,” he shook his head, watching his hands to start to shake.

Finally, he decided to admit it to himself.

“I think I’m falling in love with you.”

~

“Welcome to the Flower Patch, how can I help you?” Daichi says on instinct, cleaning the counter from another busy day at the flower shop while Sugawara enters. Days have gotten busier, not that he was complaining. More work for him meant more money, which meant more flowers to work with.

Daichi waited for Sugawara’s usual “just the wedding planner!” Joke from his one and only wedding planner, but the quip never came as Sugawara pulled up a scarf to his face, sneezing into the fabric and looking absolutely miserable. “I’m checking in progress for the rose heart for the wedding next week,” and sounding even worse, his voice a wreck.

“Er… Suga? Are you okay?” Daichi stops to properly look at his wedding planner, dark circles under his eyes and pale skin. “You don’t sound too great.”

“Thanks, I think I’m coming down with something,” Sugawara sighed, rubbing his eyes and clearing his throat. “Hell, and I have two weddings and an anniversary ceremony to plan by the end of the month,” Sugawara goes to the front counter and leans his head against the cool granite.

“I thought you weren’t going to stress yourself out like that anymore,” Daichi looks at Sugawara, his head against the granite with only his fluffy gray hair to be seen. “You shouldn’t be out, let alone working.” As his professional partner, Daichi should send him home because professionalism and he did not even need to check to know the other was sporting a fever.

As his friend with questionable closeness, Daichi reached across the counter, running his fingers through Sugawara’s hand. “Suga, you’re running a fever. I mean it, you could’ve texted me,” he says, feeling his heart shatter as Sugawara groans at the touch. “Worry about the arrangement when you’re not burning up. You should go home.”

The silence is on the edge of something much more than platonic, Sugawara still having his head down against the counter, Daichi’s heart racing in his chest. The silence needs to be filled with something, anything to keep Daichi’s mind from wandering. Anything to keep him from saying the words he so desperately wants to say.

I’m in love with you.

Sugawara coughs twice, Daichi frowns and continues to run his fingers through his silky gray hair. “Am I… am I a good person?” Sugawara looks up at Daichi, his chin resting on the counter while his face is a fevered flush. There are tears in his eyes, starting to roll down his cheeks.

“What? Suga…” Daichi reaches to wipe his tears, hand traveling from the top of his cheek to holding Sugawara’s chin. “You’re an awesome person. You’re just not feeling well, that’s all.” And a little delirious, it appears.

“If I’m always working, I don’t have to worry about love,” Sugawara sniffles, and that’s the sentence which causes Daichi to move from across the counter to the side where Sugawara is standing, holding out his arms as his wedding-planner practically falls into Daichi’s embrace, burying his face into the crook of his neck. “But then I’m always alone, and I don’t want to go home alone. Please, Daichi.”

Daichi sighs and holds Sugawara close to him, slowly moving to sit on the linoleum floors with Sugawara leaning against his shoulder, coughs turning into quiet sobs. “Sugawara—”

“Nobody gets me like you do, Daichi,” Sugawara confesses, reaching for Daichi’s hand. It is intimate, and Daichi looks down at Sugawara who is clearly out of it. His voice is already dying in his throat, and the eyebags under his eyes are highlighted from fevered pallor.

Daichi knows now is not the right time.

“I’ll take you home. Come on, you deserve to rest, okay?” Daichi continues to wipe tears from a now empty dam. “Then we can worry about all the projects together,” he comments, slowly helping Sugawara up.

He looks Sugawara deep into his eyes, mouth going agape when Sugawara moves to wrap his arms around Daichi’s neck, staying in that hold. Daichi cautiously moves to bring his hands around Sugawara, lips hovering over Sugawara’s neck.

“I’m so tired…”

“Yeah, figured as much.”

Kiss him.

Don’t.

Daichi shakes his head and lowers, moving to carry Sugawara in his arms. “I got you, don’t worry,” he sighs, carrying his wedding-planner into his car, buckling his seatbelt, his gaze lands on Sugawara, almost half-way to passing out.

“I love you.”

The words tumble out of Daichi’s mouth, a whisper unheard by the entire world other than Daichi himself. He shuts the passenger’s door and moves to the drivers’ seat, starting to drive to Sugawara’s home.

~

Daichi was getting sick of weddings.

He was tired of seeing Sugawara run himself into the ground with work before bouncing back like nothing ever happened, and it’s not the easiest to be in the wedding business surrounded by love but never having any himself.

It’s even harder to be in the wedding business with the person who stole his heart.

Daichi has admitted it over and over again, whenever they spent late nights video chatting about work, or casually as of late, Daichi was so smitten over his wedding planner, it was not even fair. Especially since it seemed Sugawara, at least in Daichi’s mind, was definitely not looking for a romantic partner.

It’s still a bad memory, a fevered Sugawara sobbing into Daichi about his stressors on solitude. Why worry about love when there’s work, and they love their work.

It was Valentine’s Day rush, when every hour was rush hour, and days like these reminded Daichi that it may be time to hire extra help. “I’ll take the next person!” Daichi shouted from behind the counter as a teenager came with a bouquet of flowers and the most bashful expression on his face. Daichi let out a small chuckle. “You look a little flustered there—”

The boy nodded his head while pulling out his wallet. “Is it bad that I’m confessing on Valentine’s Day?” He looked up at Daichi, not that the flower shop owner was any more qualified to be giving advice.

Love advice? That’s probably more in Sugawara’s department. Daichi thought to himself. “Well, with flowers in hand is probably a good way to do it. I wish you luck,” Daichi smiles, handing the flowers all neatly arranged and returning the boy his change.

“Thanks! You too!”

Before Daichi could even question the comment, the teenager was out the door. “Flowers, huh? With flowers in hand, on Valentine’s Day,” Daichi looked at all the flowers in his shop, and then all the extra flowers in the back reserved for future arrangements.

The next customer came to the register, a bouquet of tulips in hand. “One second, I’ll be right with you,” Daichi gave a curt nod before rushing to the back of the shop for where he kept his cellphone, opening Sugawara’s contact.

He writes a text.

Hey— Can you come by the Flower Shop tonight around seven? If you’re not busy.

Hardly a second passes before he gets a response, his heart racing in his chest.

Like I’d be busy tonight. I was just about to ask if I could pop in. Funny, right? I’ll see you at seven!

Daichi cannot help the smitten sigh which escapes his throat as he puts away his phone to finish the rush day at his shop. Then? A flower arrangement, and to see why Sugawara wanted to pop in.

Daichi prays it’s not another rushed order. It was worth it for the money, at that point in time, but it was definitely no longer an option left on the table.

Actually, Daichi prays it’s nothing business related. He just wants to see Sugawara, for no business reason, just to be with him.

His inner monologue is interrupted by the bell on the register desk ringing. “Coming!” He rushes back to finish his day the best he can.

~

The rush of Valentine’s Day has ended, and it’s 6:45 in the evening. Daichi is standing by the register, fixated on the bell above the door. He’s exhausted, his hands are rough from all the flower work of the day, but nothing matters more than the bell above the door and the arrangement sitting on the counter.

The arrangement: the second Daichi shut his doors, he immediately went to work on the most heartfelt flower arrangement he could conjure up. It was less aesthetic than a lot of his newer pieces, but it was raw. A few flowers in warmer hues, a little homage to the first arrangements Daichi ever made for Sugawara, the first sample that caught Sugawara’s eye in the portfolio he showed him during their first meeting. Tulips, because Daichi had learned Sugawara adored Tulips and was saddened they were not used in weddings more often. There was one rose, a light pink hue, because it went with the sunset gradient, and it was the one thing that really gave the arrangement a more than friends look.

The bell rings, Daichi perks up. He’s grinning ear to ear and trying to hide the obvious blush on his face. “Welcome to The Flower Patch, how can I help you?” He jokes, getting a nervous chuckle out of Sugawara.

“Not me, just the wedding planner,” Sugawara said with a bit of a sigh. “Happy Valentine’s Day. Was it busy?”

“You have no idea.”

They both share a laugh, and Daichi’s eyes keep flipping between the gorgeous view of Sugawara and the flower arrangement on the counter. “Are there any business updates I should know about?”

Sugawara, for the first time in ages, shook his head. “No, I just didn’t want to be a loser and spend tonight in my apartment. This is nice, having your wedding planner over even after a busy day.”

“You’re more than a wedding planner.”

“Daichi?”

The words just tumble out of Daichi’s mouth before he realizes what he said, and now Sugawara is staring at him with doe eyes, staring for clarification. “I’m sorry if I’m being unprofessional, but I see you as so much more than the wedding planner I work with,” Daichi can feel his hands shaking in his sweater pockets. “You’re amazing, the most amazing person I’ve ever even been able to talk to and it kills me to think you aren’t capable of finding love because every time I look at you, I want to kiss you more and more.”

They both blush, Daichi lets out a stuttered breath. “With consent! Of course— I mean, that’s why I haven’t kissed you. Even when you were sick— okay, let me backtrack really quickly,” he shakes his head, nerves calming down when Sugawara laughs at his only slight disaster of a confession.

Daichi reaches for the arrangement on the counter, holding it in his hands. “I know this sounds like a marriage proposal, but I want to take care of you, give you that love you deserve, love better than the couples you see and work with every day,” he holds out the arrangement. “I didn’t think I was ever going to have a crush on someone ever again, let alone fall in love, but here we are. I…”

Daichi takes a deep breath and for the first time, he says the words he had been dwelling over for ages to Sugawara’s face.

“I love you.”

Daichi keeps his arms out with the flowers in hand, desperate for any answer at all as Sugawara stands there with wide eyes.

He starts to cry.

“Suga?” Daichi starts to panic, setting down the arrangement on the counter and rushing over to comfort his closest confidant. “Hey, what’s wrong? Was it something I said? I’m sorry if—”

Sugawara moves to bring his arms around Daichi’s neck, looking up with teary eyes and fluttery breaths. He’s smiling through the tears, flustered blush on his face. “Daichi, I came here to confess to you. Beat me to the punch, didn’t you?” The breath lands on Daichi’s lips, and he’s never been closer to kissing him. “It definitely wasn’t going to be as romantic as this, though.”

“You’re a wedding planner, aren’t you supposed to be the romantic one?” Daichi shakes his head, moving his arms around Sugawara’s waist as his grin spreads across his face.

“Fine, fine. I guess you’re right,” Sugawara rolls his eyes through the tears before pulling Daichi closer, leaning in so their lips meet. It is soft, sweet, and beyond their wildest dreams.

It is paradise.

[ejlyt]

does anyone have that one KuroKen angst fic with the star projector? Someone on Bsky is asking for it but I can never remember what it’s called 😭

[noorpersona]

hello lovely!! I hope ur doing well! I’ve been to gobbling up all your writing recently and I just wanted to say that you’re so talented! Your ability to accurately characterize, well, the characters is so important and it’s just overall fantastic. Please keep up the good work!! <33

I wanted to request Sugawara — possibly taking care of the reader when they’re sick? Or maybe period pains? Either works, I really don’t mind! There’s not a lot of Suga writing on tumblr as a whole (that I’ve been able to find), and I’d like to see you work your magic! Thank youuu!

Hi sweet anon!! 🥹💛 Thank you so much for your kind words — They genuinely mean the world to me. I’m so happy you’re enjoying the writing!! Hopefully this is want you pictured in your head hehe

Enjoy<333

--

Anon Asks: Sugawara

The door creaked open before you could even lift your head from the couch.

"Hey, you should be resting," came Sugawara’s voice—soft, teasing, but edged with concern. The sound of it washed over you like a balm, even as your body rebelled against every small movement.

You grunted in response, curling deeper into the fortress of blankets you'd made for yourself. Every inch of your body ached with a dull, persistent throb. Your head pounded in time with your heartbeat, and your stomach twisted and cramped unpleasantly, making you feel heavy and brittle all at once.

Koushi set the grocery bag down with a soft thud, the rustling of plastic filling the room as he moved around. You cracked one eye open to find him methodically unpacking supplies: herbal teas, a box of your favorite crackers, a heating pad, a fresh bottle of painkillers, and—to your complete and utter dismay—a small bouquet of daisies.

“You didn’t have to,” you croaked, voice hoarse.

He shot you a look over his shoulder, eyebrow arched in a way that immediately made you feel silly for even suggesting it. “You’re right,” he said lightly, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I didn’t have to. I wanted to.”

You huffed, burrowing deeper into the blanket, trying—and failing—to hide the way your face flushed. Whether it was from embarrassment or overwhelming gratitude, you weren’t sure.

Sugawara padded over, kneeling down so you were eye-level. His hand, warm and slightly calloused from years of volleyball, brushed against your forehead. Gentle, steady.

“Still warm,” he murmured, his brows knitting together in a tiny frown. “Poor thing.”

You cracked a weak smile, the motion tugging at the ache in your temples. “I’m fine, really,” you mumbled.

“Mmhmm,” he hummed, clearly not believing a word of it.

Without asking, he cracked open one of the heat packs, giving it a firm shake until it warmed to life. He slipped it under the blanket, pressing it against your lower abdomen with slow, careful movements. A soft, involuntary sigh slipped past your lips as the warmth seeped into your cramping muscles.

He smiled at that, eyes crinkling in that boyish, heart-melting way he had.

“There’s my girl,” he said, so quietly you almost didn’t catch it over the gentle thrum of the rain starting outside.

Sugawara busied himself preparing tea—the comforting clatter of the kettle, the soft clink of a spoon stirring honey into a mug—all while stealing glances at you every few moments. Watching. Making sure you didn’t strain yourself.

When he returned, he slid onto the couch beside you, coaxing you upright just enough to press the steaming mug into your hands.

“Easy,” he murmured, one hand steadying the cup with you. “Small sips.”

You obeyed, too tired to argue, the warmth from the tea and his touch making the ache behind your eyes begin to loosen.

Once the tea was safely set aside on the coffee table, he didn’t retreat back to his corner. Instead, he carefully pulled you into his arms, arranging you across his lap with an ease that made your heart ache. His hands found your lower back almost immediately, working slow, tender circles into the tense muscles there.

The world outside faded. The rain against the windows softened into a background hum. Your muscles remained sore, but the sharp edges of your pain dulled—replaced by the steady, grounding beat of Koushi’s heart against your ear, the rise and fall of his breathing, the feeling of being wrapped up in something—someone—solid and sure.

Your hands tightened weakly in the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him like a lifeline.

“Thank you,” you whispered back, voice cracking from the weight of everything you were too tired to say properly.

He only squeezed you tighter, thumb stroking lazy, soothing patterns across your hip.

“Always,” he murmured.

And as your eyes fluttered closed, your body giving in to the exhaustion at last, you realized: with Koushi here, you could finally let yourself rest.

Truly, completely, safely rest.

[hyperdragon24calm]

Haikyuu SickFic

Sick/Sad : Iwaizumi

Caregiver : Kageyama

Soft, wholesome, puking, overworking.

×

Iwaizumi was always picking up after other people, always cleaning up others' mess and troubles.

He never got a break for himself, never had any time to take care of his own needs.

" Hey Iwa-Chan! I need help! "

Oikawa called out to Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi sighed. He was in the middle of his own assignment when Oikawa called him. He dropped his pencil and groaned.

" Just give me a minute! "

Iwaizumi replied. He got up from his desk and went to Oikawa.

" What? "

" I need help with this question, please, Iwa! "

Iwaizumi sighed, and one another, every team member was asking for help from Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi was going back and forth, and by the time he got back to his own work, he was exhausted and fell asleep.

When Iwaizumi woke up, he had to rush his assignment and head to school to hand in the paper.

Iwaizumi, of course, did not get the high score that he wanted. Everyone else on his team did.

" Damn... "

Iwaizumi muttered under his breath, sighing in defeat as he scrunched up his paper.

" Screw this. "

Iwaizumi scoffed, throwing the paper away. Oikawa went to Iwa.

" Iwa! What did you get? "

" Go away, Oikawa, I'm not in the mood. "

Iwa said. Oikawa pouted.

" Don't be rude, Iwa! Come on. Time for practice. "

Kawa said, crossing his arms and scoffing at how rude Iwa was being.

" I'm not going to practice today. I'm going for a walk. "

Iwa said.

" You have to come!! "

Iwaizumi groans.

" Seriously?! Just give me some space, please! "

Iwa yelled at Kawa.

" Oh jeez, so rude. Don't worry about coming to practice. We don't need you. "

Kawa said, and he walked away.

Iwaizumi sighed as he decided to go for a long walk. He didn't even know where he was going. He just walked and walked.

He didn't realise he had walked to the Karasuno school district. He looked at the surroundings.

Kageyama was walking to his house when he noticed Iwaizumi was looking around almost lost.

" Iwaizumi? "

Kageyama questioned out loud. Iwaizumi looked at Kageyama.

" Kageyama? "

Iwaizumi questioned.

" Oh, hello, Kageyama. Jeez, I had no idea how far I walked. "

Iwaizumi said, sighing as he crossed his arms.

" Heh, what brings you here all alone? "

Kageyama asks.

" Oh... I just needed a break. Everyone was just... too much. I couldn't handle the stress. "

Iwaizumi said. Kageyama frowned.

" I'm sorry to hear that. "

" I failed an assignment! Everyone needed my help, and I failed! Because I had to rush!! "

Iwaizumi unloaded, and he sounded stressed out.

" Oh, Iwaizumi, I'm sorry. "

Kageyama placed a hand on Iwaizumi's shoulder.

" You should take a break for yourself. "

" But I can't, I have to help everyone... "

Iwaizumi muttered, Kageyama frowned.

" You don't, though. Iwaizumi, you need to take care of yourself. Have you ever had any time for yourself? "

Kageyama asked, holding Iwaizumi's hand.

" No.... anytime I'm sick, I won't bother taking care of myself... I just ignore the sickness. "

He says sadly, holding Kageyama's hand tightly.

" I just want someone to take care of me... y'know?? "

He said, inhaling a deep breath as he let go of Kageyama's hand.

" I should get back... goodbye, Kageyama. "

Kageyama nods.

" You have my number, just call me, okay? "

Iwaizumi nods, and he walks away.

A few months passed, and Iwaizumi did not listen. He kept helping everyone and not taking care of himself.

Iwaizumi woke up one morning feeling sweaty and horrid. They had a practice match with Karasuno today, but he couldn't take the day off.

Iwaizumi struggled out of his bed, and his stomach churned, Iwaizumi swallowed thickly as watery acid rose up his throat.

" Ngh.. "

Iwaizumi forced himself to get dressed and eat. Today wasn't a class day, just a practice day. An early practice match against Karasuno.

He struggled through the morning before he made his way to school by bus. His body was sweaty and warm, and his palms clammy, his mouth was dry as.

Iwaizumi arrived at the gym, already late for warm-ups.

" Where have you been, Iwaizumi?! Jeez, so late! "

Kawa complained. Iwaizumi had no strength to talk back or make any remarks. He just hobbled over to the team.

Karasuno is arriving very soon. The team had to do some more warm-ups, spiking, and serving drills.

" Iwaizumi, pick up the pace! You are so slow!! "

Kawa spat, Iwaizumi sighed, groaning as his body was covered in a layer of sweat.

The Karasuno Team arrived.

" Great King!! "

Hinata said cheerfully as he ran to Kawa and hugged him.

Iwaizumi wiped his head with a damp cloth. His breathing was ragged and shallow, Iwaizumi struggled to catch his breath as he gulped down a heap of water to coat his throat that was dry.

Iwaizumi immediately regretted gulping down that amount of water. He felt nauseous and sick. He could feel the watery liquid rising up his throat.

Iwaizumi quickly ran out of the gym. Nobody noticed except Kageyama. Kageyama noticed the pale greenish hue on Iwaizumi's face.

Kageyama followed Iwaizumi out of the gym, Iwaizumi was leaned over a bush, watery liquid spilled from his mouth.

Kageyama rushed over to Iwaizumi.

" Iwaizumi, oh gosh... "

Iwaizumi coughed wetly, his legs shaking as he struggled to keep himself upright. His legs were trying to hold all his upper body weight, and he was so weak.

Kageyama held Iwaizumi, trying to take some weight off of Iwaizumi.

" You're okay, I'm right here. "

Kageyama rubbed Iwaizumi's back, and Iwaizumi heaved up more liquid from his mouth, his stomach convulsing.

" Oh fuck... "

Iwaizumi muttered, he eventually got a break. They heard other team members come outside.

" Come on, Iwaizumi, let's get you to the bathroom. "

Kageyama said.

" Oi! Iwaizumi, come back inside! You have warm-ups to do! "

Kawa yelled.

Kageyama glared at Kawa.

" He won't be doing any warm-ups. Iwaizumi is sick. I'm taking him home. "

Kageyama spat, absolutely appalled by Kawa's behaviour as he helped Iwaizumi stand up and took him to the bathroom.

Iwaizumi's legs trembled.

" K-Kageyama... "

Iwaizumi faltered with his words. He was so exhausted and burning up badly.

" I... don't... "

Iwaizumi was stopped by more liquid rising up his throat. He jerked forward and gagged.

Kageyama helped Iwaizumi over one of the sinks.

" Sshhh, don't try speaking. You are too sick. "

Kageyama said soothingly, rubbing Iwa's back and whispering soothing and comforting words.

" I'm right here. "

Kageyama said gently, Iwaizumi heaved up more puke into the sink, sweat drops rolling down his head as he trembled.

Soon, Iwaizumi got a break. He felt only a little bit better. He didn't feel like he would vomit anymore, so that was a good sign for him. He hated the feeling.

" Kag... I want to go home. "

Kageyama nods.

" I know. I'm going to take you home now, okay? "

Kageyama said. Kageyama cleaned up Iwaizumi and helped him home, Kageyama knew where Iwaizumi lived since one day Iwaizumi needed some company.

Kageyama opened the door with the spare key, and he helped Iwaizumi inside the house.

" We are home, Iwaizumi. "

Iwaizumi let out a small groan. He was so exhausted, and he just wanted to rest now, Kageyama placed him on the couch.

" Kageyama... hold me, please. "

Iwaizumi pleaded softly. He was in such a vulnerable, weak state that he just needed someone there to hold him and take care of him.

" I'm here, Iwaizumi, I'm going to take good care of you. "

Kageyama assured as he sat on the couch and pulled Iwaizumi into his embrace, holding Iwaizumi close and taking off Iwaizumi's shirt.

" You are burning hot. I'm going to get you a damp towel. For your head. "

Kageyama went to the bathroom and wet a cloth. He went back to Iwaizumi, who was already asleep.

Kageyama placed the damp wash cloth on Iwaizumi's head and held him close, keeping Iwaizumi company and taking care of him.

×

End of chapter. May make a second part!

Words : 1335

[hollowtakami]

dropped a daisuga fic on my ao3! pls go read!!!:3

[stellar-bluelock]

so...i wrote like 1.1k of rin fluff in one sitting. heh.

and 700 words for an isagi fic where i self-project lol

it's been 3 months since i've put out a bllk fic 😭😭 helppp

[sweetfushi]

How about a haikyuu sickfic where the reader has a sleepover at a characters house to nurse them, but they end up getting sick too and now it’s the characters turn to take care of them? You can change the idea if you’d like, good luck!!

NURSING HIM WHEN HE'S ILL

fluff | wakatoshi ushijima, kozume kenma, kentaro kyotani x reader, surprise surprise all of them are ill and idiots for not being careful (or just too in love to care), high temperature | word count. 1.4k ◦ notes. changed this very slightly if you can notice but the idea is very much still there <3

WAKATOSHI USHIJIMA

“I told you to keep your distance,” you sigh heavily, cupping the mug of warm chamomile tea and honey to measure the temperature. When you’re sure it’s cool enough to hold, you hand it to Ushijima, who’s barely keeping himself sat up on the couch. You wince as he coughs into his tissue again, before taking the mug from your hands.

“Keeping my distance,” he mumbles, “meant leaving you ill.”

You shake your head and roll your eyes, but know he means well. Did this man have any flaws? “And look what caring for me got you.” Once you sit beside him with enough distance between the two of you to ensure your health, you refill his glass of water that sits on the coffee table. In the meantime, Ushijima sips his tea and inhales wheezily. His cough was nothing serious because yours was the same, just an inconvenience that left you too unbothered to do anything other than complain and curse yourself for being so careless.

Ushijima, however, is much quieter than you when ill. The most he’s done is complain under his breath or groan loudly. Even so, it’s clear he’s uncomfortable and bothered by his illness. Especially since it renders him incapable of performing his best in matches. Luckily, he’s not had any upcoming ones due to the last two months being ones dedicated to training before the finals. Meaning, he had more than enough time to get better.

“You’ve officially killed me,” he huffs with his eyes closed.

Well, it appears even when he’s ill Ushijima will find humour in the situation.

You press your fingers to his temple in the shape of a gun - your middle and index finger together, your other fingers curled back and your thumb pointed upwards. “My cleanest kill yet.”

He shakes his head, before coughing loudly into his fist. All the while, you stare at him, waiting for him to calm and settle back into the couch with a tired look on his face. Ushijima glances at you, blinking slowly. Even when ill, Ushijima wants to maintain physical contact with you despite knowing it would be best not too if he valued your health alongside his.

But, he still reaches his hand out and hopes you get the message. God knows he’s too parched and sore to verbalise it.

And being the understanding woman you are, you appear to catch on with the way your lips tilt into a small smile. He knows you love it when he gets like this, particularly needy and aching for your touch. So, you apply a decent amount of sanitiser on his hands and wait for him to slowly rub it along his skin before grabbing his hand.

Your thumb brushes along the back of his hand, enough to soothe him even as another cough builds up in his throat. This time, he catches it in a tissue and gives you a tiredly sheepish look.

“I’ll wash my hands this time.”

“Good idea.”

KOZUME KENMA

Kenma is a good listener when he wants to be. He decided he would not listen to you when you warned him of his cold having the potential to progress into much worse. That being a fever; a fever that left him bed-ridden and highly uncomfortable with any sort of noise, skin contact and unequilibrated temperatures. He was dealing with all three with the sound of the washing machine, your hands placing a damp cloth on his forehead, and the open window of his previously warm room.

His expression is of evident frustration with himself.

“I… maybe,” his teeth chatter, “should’ve listened.”

You bite your tongue to suppress the urge to tell him I told you so, as saying that may only do good for your ego. Instead, you give him a pointed look that he just about catches through his hooded eyes and raging headache. Though even as you treat him, your sniffles pose as the remaining aftermath of your own fever from a week ago. Kenma knows this, so it is now his turn to give you a pointed look.

“Hey, you worry about yourself,” you whisper-shout, careful not to raise your voice to a decibel that would worsen his headache. “You can glare at me when you’re not looking like a sad cat.”

Kenma snarls, but he’s amused. He just doesn’t have it in him to express that, not when it meant laughing or even cracking a smile. But he does let out a small whine to let you know that he’s listening to your uncalled-for insults.

Your lips part as you go to talk again, but seal shut when you decide against it. You don’t want to bother him with unnecessary talk, even if your voice is one of the few he could listen to continuously without wanting to pull his phone out.

You refill his glass of water before helping him sit up in bed and offering him the glass. He takes a moment to just inhale and exhale at a controlled pace, before taking the glass and bringing it up to his lips. The positive thing about this all is that Kenma is very cooperative when ill because he hates being in that state as much as the next person. He’ll complain and grumble, sure, but it would never be towards any attempt to help him get better. Thus, he drinks the water in silence and politely asks for a refill.

“I was…” he mumbles, “gonna practise with Kuroo tomorrow.”

“Not in your state you won’t. Maybe he can FaceTime you as he practises, but you’re going nowhere near that court.” You pause for a moment, considering your words. “Or any other human for that matter.”

Kenma is on the brink of sleep as he stares at you for a moment, before shutting his eyes and sighing in agreement.

KENTARO KYOTANI

Once you’ve finally finished squeezing some fresh orange juice into a glass, you make your way over to the curled heap of illness that is Kyotani. You’d thrown a blanket over him and let him sip on the orange juice with a grumble. You were only a partial cause of his sneezing. The other part came from his open window, either due to the pollen that infested his room or the cool night breeze that unsettled his immune system.

“Thanks,” he manages to say, before slamming the empty glass down on the table just in time to catch his explosive sneeze in a tissue. You thank him internally for having the capacity to do that and not spread his germs (even though you had been the one to spread yours to him).

“Make sure to blow your nose and push the snot out, not suck it back in.”

“Ew, please don’t,” he grimaces. “I mean, I’ll do that and whatever, just please reword.”

You roll your eyes at his excessive disgust, but find it amusing that he can still generate anger when his nose tickles and his chest constricts. You’re not sure if that’s something you admire, but it is certainly something you find entertaining, so you can credit him for that.

Kyotani sees your gentle, almost dazed smile as you run your hand along his buzzcut, smoothing over his head and watching as he allows you to. Ever since you got married, he had made it clear to you that physical touch was enough to satiate him no matter his mood, so it’s no surprise that he’s closing his eyes and practically purring at the feeling of your hand on him.

For a moment, you pull your hand away from his head in order to pull the blanket tighter around him, and this frustrates him. He doesn’t care about the damn blanket, he wants your hand back on his head. Following that thought, Kyotani internally appreciates human incapability to hear thoughts or read minds, otherwise you wouldn’t let his thoughts go for weeks. You tease him enough as is, he’s not sure he can survive anything more.

You practically scream at the sudden sneeze he releases the moment you release your hold on his blanket. He grunts when you smack the back of his head.

“Surely you could’ve sneezed quieter.” You try to grab at his hair in an attempt to pull it, but hear him snicker when you fail.

“You were blowing this place up just as much a few days ago.”

“I’ve never known a sick person to talk so much,” you retort. Kyotani shakes his head at your immature response, but it gets him to fall silent and focus his attention on stopping his sneezes - as if paying closer attention to them would mean he would get better. Maybe it did, hell if he knew.

But, it was nice to be doted on, as much as he won’t admit it. He wouldn’t mind falling ill more often if it meant you’d devote your full attention to him.

sweetfushi © do not modify, repost, translate, copy or use my post in any way. all that is included in this post, aside from the fictional characters and universes, belong to sweetfushi (zee).