#f/f sickfic

[chaotic-iguana]

♡ - fluff | ✿ - smut/18+ | ☾ - angst | generic masterlist

one shots:

acting out (✿) - soft dom! din smut - mando x f! reader

bored, bratty reader acts out while din’s on a bounty. he fixes her attitude.

bodyguard (♡) - pure fluff - mando x gn! reader

reader isn’t doing too well, and mando checks in. pre-relationship. request.

enough (♡, ☾) - angst and fluff - grumpy mando x sunshine! f!reader

din grapples with his feelings, and hurts reader in the process. unable to see her upset, he confesses. request.

[connieslovers]

i’m sick rn so have this

Your f/o notices you’re sick one morning when they hear your coughing while you’re sleeping. They feel your head lightly, you don’t have a fever, but you’re clearly not well. They prop you up slightly so you can breathe better, and gives you a kiss on the forehead before setting up a humidifier or something similar. They come back and curl up next to you, kissing your head before they fall back asleep as well.

i’ve been sick the past 3 days including today. wish me luck lol.

[sunflower-snz]

Taking Care Of Her

Valentines Event Recipient: @messysneezer

I wrote cute lil’ fic for this event, thanks to @sneezydarliing for organising it and being super awesome in sorting some issues out!

This is told from the readers POV and theres no definitive pronouns so take this how you’d like. It was written from a wlw perspective though!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

“Oh sweetheart, you really have it rough don’t you?” You murmured softly as you looked down at your wife, her eyes closed and head resting in your lap as she tried to catch up on some sleep.

She’d come down with a little something a few days earlier. You’d warned her to wear a coat, “The weatherman says it’s gonna rain baby, we don’t want you catching a chill, now do we?”. That’s what you’d said to her before leaving for work that morning but when you’d returned back, her coat was still hung in its original position on the hook, having been clearly left behind.

Of course she’d came home soaked to the bone. Now here she was, a few days later, paying the price for it. You gently brushed a strand of damp hair from her forehead, feeling the warmth radiating from her feverish body. The soft hum of the humidifier created a soft backdrop against the sound of her congested snores.

She was so stuffed up with this cold. Usually whenever your wife got sick, it tended to settle in her chest but this one had been all up in her head and it was making had been clearly making her miserable.

As you continued to cradle your wife's head, she stirred slightly, eyelashes fluttering open. She was so sleepy, she barely had time to react before a sudden, forceful sneeze had her head bobbing forwards, seemingly catching the both of you off guard.

“Hh..hhii’eshhiew!”

She was barely awake enough to sit up, never mind have the ability to cover so it was inevitably your exposed legs that took the brunt of the damage - of course you weren’t angry. The poor thing was too tired to realise what she’d done anyway.

“Goodness bless you darling! I guess you weren’t quite ready for that one huh?” You laughed softly, reaching over to grab a tissue from the nearby box as your wife slowly sat up and sleepily rubbed at her eyes, seemingly still processing what had just happened.

Your wife sniffled and sighed, "Everything hurts…” She mumbled pitifully, her usually chirpy voice now hoarse and sore. Not another moment passed before her breath hitched again, her eyelashes fluttering closed as she was helpless to another two sneezes, catching them in her hands and wincing as they scraped against her raw throat.

“HH-Heh’iishioo! H-Heh..Heh’kshuu!” She sniffled thickly, her face grimacing as she looked down at her hands before whining quietly again,“My head feels like it’s going to explode.”

“I know baby, I know.” You murmured softly, pulling her closer to you as you pressed a gentle, loving kiss to her warm forehead, “Here you go sweetheart, use these for me?” You asked gently, handing her the tissues you’d gotten earlier.

Your wife, still sniffling, took the tissues and nodded weakly. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. As she blew her nose, you continued to gently comfort her, your hand slipping beneath her shirt to rub her back soothingly.

After a listening to her breath stuffily for another few minutes, you had an idea, "How about a warm shower, love? It might help you feel a bit better and clear up those poor sinuses of yours.” She looked up at you with tired, grateful eyes and nodded again. With gentle support, you helped her stand and guided her towards the bathroom.

You heard her take a breath as if say something but as you glanced over your shoulder to look at her, she stood there woozily, her eyes glazed over as she lazily held a finger in the air almost as if to pause herself before she’d even started.

“IiisSShhiuew! Hh’heH’shiew!” The back of her wrist wasn’t exactly the best way to cover and you could seen the light reflect the subtle sheen she’d coated on her skin but considering you were both about to jump in the shower, it didn’t exactly matter anyway.

“Bless yo-“

“No-not hH..h fini-hh-ish- Huh-hh’Hh’ItSSHIEW!” She ducked over, bending forward at the hips as if she’d put everything into just getting that final, desperate itch out.

“You done now?” You couldn’t hold back a small laugh as she her hair fell messily in front of her eyes. She was a mess, an adorable, sniffly mess but you loved her nonetheless. She was your mess.

“Come on sweetheart,” You cooed as you came to push back several strands of hair behind her ear, making it so that she could see again and extended an offering hand, “Let’s get you into that shower, yeah?”

After helping her undress, the both stepped into the warm embrace of the shower, the steam enveloping you as you held your wife close. She leaned against you, her body feeling heavy with fatigue. You reached for the gentle shower gel, lathering it in your hands before gently massaging it onto her back, working out the tension that had built up from her illness.

The floral scent of the gel must have tickled her the wrong way though because you barely had to time to take your hands off her before she gasped and suddenly ducked to catch a rapid set of desperate sounding sneezes against her wrist.

“HhH-Huh’CHIEW! Hih’CHIEW!”

She wobbled a little and you instinctively reached out, letting your hand rest on her back to steady her. She shivered involuntarily against your touch despite the warmth of the water cascading down you both.

“Hhe-Hih- Ehhh’CHIEW!” She fanned her face rapidly, shaking her head as if to to physically chase away the tickle, “Hht... Hhh... Hht'EshhiEW! O-oh God-“

“God bless you baby!” You whispered once you were sure she’d finished, pretending not to notice her cleaning up her face a little to avoid embarrassing her further.

“Excuse me love.” She sniffled thickly before scrunching up her pink nose and groaning, her head felt like it was pounding relentlessly. Her head came to rest in the crook of your neck and you murmured sweet nothings in her ear, slowly rocking her gently, “M’sorry for being so gross.”

“Hush, don’t need to apologise for anything. We’re both in the shower. It doesn’t matter and it’s not like you can help it either.”

“I know but still.” She pouted a little, letting her shoulders finally sink down and relax. Her fever had caused her muscles to ache all day, finally it seemed she was getting some relief.

After a while, the warm water began to lose its comforting touch, signaling it was time to step out of the shower. You carefully helped your wife dry off, wrapping her in a fluffy towel before guiding her back to the bedroom. Her hair was wet and clinged to her forehead. She looked so small and vulnerable when she wasn’t feeling well. It was undoubtedly adorable.

She still seemed a bit weak, so you helped her into her pajamas, the soft fabric felt good against her sensitive skin. You watched as she yawned sleepily, her head bobbing as she fought to keep herself awake.

“Awh, you tired baby?” You teased when you noticed her eyes falling closed again.

She sniffled, nodding as she fought back another yawn, “A little, I justhh- Hh-tshu! Just can’t seem to keep my eyes open anymore…”

You chuckled softly, pulling back the covers and guiding her into bed. "Well, let's get you all tucked and settled in then. Some sleep will do you wonders darling.”

As you turned off the bedroom light, she mumbled a soft, grateful "Thank you darling.”

“You’ll feel better in the morning.” You smiled down at her, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead as she finally let her eyes close, “I promise.”

[softsnzstuff]

The delinquent (adult) younger brother of a 1940’s farm vet. The one who’s sort of known for being a fuck up despite also being a vet. The one who fakes illness and injury to get out of work or unpleasant outings. The one who wears suits and sweaters every day. The lady killer.

Yeah him?

I’m gonna wreck him with the worst fucking cold by way of fanfic soon 😈

[wetsnifflesneeze]

Hi guys 👋🏻 happy Tuesday lol 🥴 I have a new lil story. Making a pretty girl suffer with a cold but giving her a sweet gf so I think that balances it out💘💞

……………………………………………………………………….

Can We Go Home 🥺

Carolina could feel she was getting a cold as she made her way to work, her throat was a little sore, and she felt a bit sniffly. But it was fine. She couldn’t imagine she would start to feel worse before the end of the day. Besides it was Friday and she always met up with her girlfriend after work on Fridays to have a date. So with her coffee in one hand and her phone in the other she smiled at one of her colleagues as they entered the lift together. “hhhKTSSSSTHIEW ugh sorry, I think I’m getting a cold” she said after she turned her head towards the wall and sneezed uncovered. She wasn’t shy about sneezing uncovered or admitting she didn’t feel well. “Aww bless you. Well at least it’s Friday you can rest this weekend.” her friend replied. “SNf.. yeah exactly. I’m actually not feeling that bad so it’s fine”

Later in the day her friend went to her desk and found her sitting there with a few tissues scattered on her desk. “Hey, how’re you feeling? I brought you some tea.” “Oh thanks, you’re so sweet” she sniffled to try and get rid of the congestion in her voice. “I keep sneezing…sorry… ttTSSSSHIEW” she turned to the side away from her friend and sprayed her desk and keyboard.

“Bless you, I need to get back to work but do you need anything, I have some painkillers?” She asked sweetly.

“Uhm no thanks I’m okay for now.”

“Okay, well if I don’t see you later, feel better this weekend.” She left giving her friend a little rub on the back, knowing that she wasn’t feeling good. She was normally very chatty and upbeat but not this afternoon.

The next few hours just dragged by... and she felt worse by the minute. The congestion was making her breathe through her mouth. The sneezes would allow her to breathe through her nose again but only for a minute.

Finally she met her girlfriend in the metro station as usual. She smiled, she was glad see her. But as soon as they embraced Ali said “Oh honey you’re sick?” “How could tell already” Carolina laughed which turned to a little cough.

“Baby, you’re so pale, except your nose is getting pink” she kissed her nose and then her forehead which felt a little warm”

“Yeah, I’ve been blowing my nose a lot. It’s so stuffy… Ali can we go home?” Carolina asked softly and looked at her with pleading and sad puppy eyes.

“Of course baby, I want to get you home and we’ll have a nice warm bath together, sound good?”

“huTShhiew HuTTSSHHHIEW ugh, yeah *snfff*”

“Bless you, my poor angel. C’mon let’s get on this train.” Ali guided her girlfriend towards the carriage and they somehow fit into the packed space.. it was far from ideal but at least they were headed home. Carolina felt a tickle in her nose and she thought of course my nose is starting to tickle when it’s impossible to cover my mouth properly. The carriage was so full, she was holding onto Ali for balance and had no choice but to sneeze into her girlfriend’s neck and chest “ETTIIISSHHIEW.. I’m so sorry!”

“It’s okay love, bless you.” Ali gave her pink, sniffly, irritated nose a gentle kiss. Carolina sniffled, she couldn’t blow her nose until she got off but it was running now. She just had to sniffle. Ali wrapped her arms around the sick girl letting her bury her face against her chest. Carolina was grateful to just hide her face from the world. She couldn’t wait to get home.

By the time they got off the train she had a thin stream of snot down to her lips. She desperately wiped it with her jumper sleeve as soon as she could. Ali got some tissues and passed them to her.

“Ali I’m so sorry I sneezed on you, that was so embarrassing. I’m so disgusting.”

“Baby please, you’re not disgusting. You’re sick Cari and that’s not your fault.” “HEETIISSSHOO”

“Bless you darling, have you been feeling bad all day?” “Mhmm pretty much..” she admitted still wiping her nose with the tissues. She saw an empty seat on the platform and sat down.

“How come you didn’t want to leave work early?” “I don’t know… I just kept telling myself that there’s only a couple of hours left until I see you”

”And your boss? He didn’t care?” “He… he was out playing golf with our some clients.” Carolina rolled her eyes as she said that.

“Oh I see.. I’m sorry honey.” “Stacy was nice to me though, she brought me some tea *SNFFF*”

“That’s good, I always liked Stacy. Okay c’mon let’s get up we need to get our next train”

Carolina stayed sitting down… closed her eyes and brought her hands to her face to try and hide her tears.

“I just wanna be home already” she managed to say in between shaky breaths.

Ali felt her heart pang in sympathy at the sight of her girlfriend like this. Nobody would have ever imagined seeing Carolina like this, she was typically so unflappable, poised, self assured, and confident. “Hey sweetie it’s okay I’ll get us an Uber it’ll be quicker. We’ll be home in no time.” Poor Carolina’s nose didn’t leave her alone in the Uber either, she tried to keep her runny nose at bay by dabbing at it with her tissues but she couldn’t hold back the overwhelming tickle “huh hh hEAIISSSCHOO” “ATTTTCHIEW” “ATTTTISHIEW” she sneezed into her elbow. “Sorry, excuse me” she said after each sneeze. Ali gave her hand a sympathetic squeeze and said bless you. Once they got home Ali prepared the bath with some bubbles, candles, and eucalyptus oil hoping to help her congested girlfriend breathe clearly again.

The warm water felt so good after being out in the cold. She felt her nose tickling and running a little bit.. after only a couple minutes she sneezed toward the water “hehIIISSSSHHH“

“Bless you baby.. I’m sorry the eucalyptus oil might make you a bit sneezy but it should help to clear your sinuses.”

“ETTIIISSHHIEW that’s okay, I was sneezy anyway.” A few moments later Carolina sneezed a particularly messy sneeze, her spray accompanied with snot “HAHTIIIISSSSSHHHHCHOO ugh fuck” she raised her hands to her face and made a groaning noise which let Ali know that she needed a tissue for the mess her nose just made.

“Aww bless you baby, here let me clean you up.” Carolina somewhat reluctantly moved her hands and let Ali wipe her nose. “Thanks *sniff* this cold is so gross I’m so sorry *SNGHF*.. and I know you hate being sick so you probably think I’m disgusting right now.. and I’m super contagious I imagine so if you want to keep your distance it’s okay I understand.” Carolina sighed dejectedly.

“Hey, no baby, that’s not true. I mean, yes I hate getting sick but, I just want to take care of you. Honestly you’re so adorable right now and I feel like you’ve never needed me this much before, I love getting to take care of you.. you’ve done the same for me before.”

That seemed to put her at ease. She let another small sigh and leaned back against Ali in the bath, finally letting her body completely relax. Ali gently began to massage her temples. “How’d you know that my head hurts?*SNNF*

“Just a guess.. you’re so stuffed up so I thought your head was bound to start hurting, poor baby” Ali kissed her temples and forehead. Then went back to the gentle massage. Carolina enjoyed a couple minutes more of relaxation until her nose started to run again. Exhausted and no longer as embarrassed she ignored it as long as she could, when her sniffles weren’t enough to stop the thin trail of snot running onto her lip she just left it, until more and more snot pooled at the bottom of her nostrils and continued running eventually dripping into the bath water, Ali noticed and reached for some tissues. “I got you baby” She gently wiped it all away and kissed her cheek. The other girl sniffled again.. her poor nose not getting a break for even a minute. This time she couldn’t ignore the strong tickle she felt building making her breath hitch “huh..” if Ali wasn’t behind her she would’ve seen her face scrunch up like she was trying hard to focus on something, her mouth half open, red nostrils flaring, her pretty, long eyelashes fluttering and she closed her eyes before.. “huh.. hah.. HATIIISHIEEW ATTTTSSSHIEW” followed by a tired whimper.

Ali felt her girlfriend’s body rocking and snap forward with the force of the desperate wet sneezes that sprayed into the water. “Bless you honey.” She moved her arms from around the sick girls waist to pass her a tissue which she took and blew her nose.

“I’m going to get you some tea and then we’ll go to bed.. how does that sound?”

“Good” *SNFfl*. Typically when she would reply with monosyllabic answers Ali would ask her what’s wrong but there was no explanation needed today.

They got into bed and Carolina moaned rather than closing her eyes. “What is it sweetheart, what hurts?” Ali asked. “My throat and my head.” “Oh my poor baby, let me get you something” She returned moments later with honey and painkillers. “This is that really nice honey we bought from the farmers market, remember that date? I hope it makes your throat feel better.”

“I loved that date” Carolina smiled at that fond memory before swallowing the honey.

“Okay now your poor head..” Ali leaned over her and kissed her forehead which seemed to be getting warmer by the minute. Carolina raised her hands to try not to sneeze directly on her girlfriend’s chest for the second time today “HEIITTSSHIEW”

“Bless you! You’ve got a fever baby, so I need you to take these paracetamol too”

“Okay” she obediently took the paracetamol and added “Now cuddles”.

Ali grinned “you’re so cute when you demand cuddles.”

“I... “hiiTSHIEW TTTSHIEW… I’m cold and sick. I’ll die without cuddles tonight.” She shivered after she sneezed into her blanket.

“Okay, my goodness we don’t want that” Ali smirked as she took off her clothes and wrapped her arms around her cute sniffly mess of a girlfriend. She knew that if she was naked her body heat would reach her chilled girlfriend faster. She had never felt more in love.

[scrumply-selfship-imagines]

imagine having to keep reminding your f/o not to kiss you while you're sick

[lockwood-fic-recs]

When You Tell Me You Love Me (I Can Actually See It)

by OnlyAPerfectDisaster on ao3

Rating: T | Category: F/M | Relationship: Lockwood/Lucy

This time—for the first time—he doesn’t try to fight the words that float through his brain as it rises. God, I love her.

Five times Lockwood nearly tells Lucy he loves her (or pointedly thinks it at her) and one time she does it for him.

[mirkwoodmunson]

pt1 pt2

eddie munson x f!reader

tw: cursing, feeling sick

you breach consciousness with a softly pulled breath, eyes managing to slide open halfway, and this time it’s easier keeping them open as the sun was now starting to go down; your senses weren’t quite so overwhelmed now. you still ached, still trembled with a deep-set weakness, still struggled to take deep breaths without coughing but compared to earlier, you were at more of 6 than an 8 if your discomfort could be scaled.

something lingers with you like a dream, it had felt so real at the time but looking around, seeing you were alone, you question whether eddie had really been here or not. you swore you’d felt a hand at your back…

it’s probably just your body overwhelmed with exhaustion but tears prickle your eyes and you sniffle. maybe he was here and left? looking around some more as you sit up and pull your blanket around you, something catches your eye on the floor; a plastic bag. rustling…

“eddie?” you call weakly, but no answer.

you stand and groan with the effort of holding yourself up, the blanket held tight around your form as you head out to investigate.

it doesn’t take long — he’s in your little kitchen, stood at the stove stirring a pot of something and lightly tapping socked feet. he’s humming mötley — home sweet home for crying out loud — nodding his head a little too, and the juxtaposition of metalhead and domesticity makes you pull a wide smile. he lifts up a spoon and blows, sips, sputters and curses wildly under his breath, quickly turning off the burner.

“gah- fuck, doesn’t need ‘er fuckin’ mouth burned out, dummy, jesus christ—“ he mutters to himself, setting the pot to the side to cool before turning, lifting slightly on his toes in surprise when he sees you, a smile flashing before concern sets in.

“wh- hey, hey what’s up? why’re you cryin’??”

you hadn’t even realized it but then when he says that you hiccup on an inhale, “i-i woke up n’-n’ thought i dreamed you or-or you left, and i missed you and—“

eddie strides to you and pulls you in, wrapping arms around your blanketed form as you mush your face into his shoulder.

“oh, you— sweetheart—“ eddie has to fight that ‘squeeze the cute thing really really hard’ urge. “i’m here, i’m real, you’re okay.”

again his heart aches for you, softly pressing kisses into your hair and doing those big, comforting circles on your back with the flats of his hands, holding you to him and letting you rest there, let out the frustration that comes with feeling as shitty as you do right now. he wants so badly to make you better, bring you soup and crackers and watch crappy tv with you, wants to lay down and sleep beside you if that would bring you comfort — and like hell anything would stop him from doing just that.

eddie lifts you away from him gently after you’ve calmed, gives a noisy smooch to your forehead making you giggle.

“now get that ass back to bed, okay? i’m bringin’ in the big guns — chicken noodle soup and young frankenstein.”

[brandnewcouch]

a quick little donna & fourteen thing i wrote because i can’t sleep. takes place after “the giggle” so….. spoilers!!!

~~~~

“Ugh, why do I habe to be so stuffed ub?” Donna groaned after blowing her nose for the millionth time that morning.

“I believe that’s just part of the package,” The Doctor commented.

“Always so clever, you,” she said sarcastically. The Doctor chuckled, half because of her comment and half because he noticed her nose was almost as bright as her hair.

“hihh-hih’KTschoo!” Donna sniffled and pulled the last tissue from the box to wipe her nose.

“Good thing you’ve stocked up on these,” The Doctor said as he swapped out the tissue box for a new one. “Really stocked up. You know I think you have more boxes in your house right now than the TARDIS has had in all of eternity. Why is that?”

“I’m a mother, Brainbox,” she groaned. “I learned very quickly that kids are always bringing germs home from school. I always have extra tissues for Rose.”

“And yet you’re the only one using them,” he said, raising an eyebrow. Donna was not amused.

“You’re lucky I’m so exhausted right now. Otherwise you’d be getting a slap in the face.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” he grinned. He wrapped an arm around her as she leaned against him and pulled her legs up onto the sofa.

“I feel like shit,” she mumbled.

“Would it make it better or worse if I said I could tell?”

“I don’t know,” she moved in closer, wrapping an arm around his torso and resting her head on his shoulder. The Doctor gently brushed her bangs away from her face.

“Could be worse. You don’t have a fever.”

“I’d rather have a fever,” she said, pausing for a moment to cough. “It would be much less humiliating than taking two days off work for a measly cold.”

“UNIT has a great sick day policy. There’s no harm in taking advantage of it,” he argued. “Plus, you said you felt like shit, did you not?”

“I did,” she muttered. “Ei’hiiSChhh! Hih’eiTSChh!”

She sniffled into his shoulder, not bothering to lift her head. The Doctor instinctively pulled her in closer and began to run his fingers through her hair.

“I hope I don’t pass this on to Rose or Shaun,” she sighed, leaning into his touch.

“If you’ve been even remotely as cuddly with Shaun as you’ve been with me over the last hour, I’d say he’s a goner,” he joked.

“Oi! I’ve been careful around him! The tradeoff for not being able to catch this is having to put up with my clinginess, Skinny.”

“Oh, hush, you aren’t clingy” he said fondly.

“No? How ‘bout now?” she asked, somehow managing to get even closer than she already was.

“Okay, maybe a little bit,” The Doctor chuckled.

He leaned back and hoisted his legs onto the coffee table as Donna sniffled into his chest. Clingy or not, he felt so lucky to be able to experience little moments like this with his best friend. Those fifteen years had killed him, but getting to have a life with her made it all worth it. He noticed her breathing had slowed and looked down to see she had closed her eyes. He had a feeling he would not be moving for a while.

“I love you, Spaceman,” she whispered.

“I love you, Earth Girl.”

[sleptwithinthesun]

here is another installation in the t/ourette's au!! there is snz this time, and 5K words of it (+ a fuckton of plot. help) :D i hope you enjoy!

cw: neither f/oreman nor h/ouse are exactly kind to c/hase in this. there's nothing explicitly against him, but some of their choices and thoughts shouldn't be repeated. also, i know nothing about the medical stuff. forgive me for any inaccuracies

"And where have you been?"

Foreman glances up from the medical journal he's been occupying himself with to watch Chase walk in, already wearing his lab coat, which is strange enough on its own for a three-in-the-morning page from House. Even stranger is the fact that he's later to arrive than House in the first place, who is proudly notorious for almost never being on time to work.

"Surgery," he replies, practically collapsing into his seat and accepting the file Cameron holds out to him. He smiles tiredly at her, even as his shoulders jerk upward and his eyes squeeze shut.

House ignores the tic, spinning in his chair to face the whiteboard, marker poised to write. "Symptoms include nausea, vomiting, jaundice, and fatigue. Patient came in because of the jaundice. Thoughts?"

"Jaundice indicates that the liver's failing," Cameron points out.

"Duh," House says. "Patient's a light drinker, she's in college, but nowhere near an alcoholic. Check the liver for cirrhosis, and we'll go from there." He flaps a dismissive hand at them, already forcing himself up on his cane and limping toward the door to his office.

Foreman doesn't even bother waiting for him to leave, just rises from his chair and follows Cameron and Chase down to the patient's room. About halfway down the hallway, Foreman breaks the silence to ask, "Think she's going to have cirrhosis?"

"If her liver's failing? Yes." Cameron speaks with conviction.

"Not necessarily," Chase interjects, neck twisting sharply to the side and forcing him to grab onto Cameron's shoulder for a second to keep his balance. He pauses to reorient himself, blinking sheepishly. "Sorry."

"Not your fault. You okay?" she asks. He nods, hand dropping back to his side, and sighs quietly.

It takes a moment, but he eventually speaks again. Foreman's noticed that about him; whenever Chase has a particularly bad tic, usually resulting in him drawing attention to himself, he tends to lapse into silence for the following handful of minutes. Cameron once explained to him that, according to Wilson, he's been doing it since even before she joined the diagnostic team, and it's a habit neither they nor Wilson see him breaking anytime soon.

"Could be hepatitis," he says quietly, voice a bit strained. "Although, type A wouldn't result in cirrhosis of the liver."

Cameron nods in acknowledgement, then pushes the 'down' button for the elevator. It's not even three-thirty in the morning, and in pure spite of the fact that Foreman's been working as a doctor for the past six years, the one thing he'll never get used to is the complete lack of a sleep schedule. He stifles a tired yawn behind his palm, then runs a hand down his face to try and wake himself up.

It doesn't work. He slumps against the side of the elevator once they're all inside, closing his eyes for a moment. He opens them again to find Cameron glancing at him sympathetically, lips curved with an odd little half-smile. "Any chance it's an easy diagnosis?"

"Knowing House? Never." Foreman rolls his eyes playfully at her.

"I don't know why House didn't just have us get a liver biopsy," Cameron continues as the elevator doors slide open again. "I mean, that's the easiest way to determine cirrhosis."

"And it's also unnecessary if we can get a CBC and run a panel for liver enzymes." Chase follows closely behind Cameron as they exit. She's the only one who actually knows where they're going; Foreman only remembers the floor number, and Chase barely got to look over the file before they were leaving the conference room.

Foreman glances back at him. "We should probably get an image, too. MRI or CT scan?"

"MRI," Chase says. "Better contrast resolution."

Cameron nods her agreement, then pauses outside a room, seeming to check the number. A moment later, she's pushing open the sliding glass door and smiling softly at their patient.

"Ms. Davis?" she asks, breaking the stillness of the room.

The girl in the bed laughs. "I'm nineteen; my mom is Ms. Davis." Foreman takes note of the honorific, storing the information away to share with House later. "Please, call me Audrey."

"Audrey," Cameron corrects, walking over to her bedside. "I know that it's late, and that you've had a rough couple of hours, but we need to run a couple of tests."

"We can expedite them," Chase offers, and Audrey's face crinkles with confusion, likely at Chase's accent. Either that, or the subtle tic presenting in the muscles of his face, which Foreman's pretty sure Chase doesn't even realize he's doing. "It's late. We haven't been slammed with an emergency, and most of the equipment is open."

Slowly, Audrey nods. "Where're you from?" she asks.

Chase blinks, startled. "Uh, Oz— Australia."

"Cool," Audrey says enthusiastically, her brow smoothing out a bit. She attempts to sit up straighter in her bed, smoothing a few strands of hair away from her face. "You haven't been over here very long, have you?"

She's flirting with him. Foreman rolls his eyes at Cameron, who just sighs and leaves the room to get the consent forms. Audrey's gaze trails after her as she leaves, and then, she states, just as plainly as if she were talking about the weather, "You're not dating."

Chase splutters. Foreman laughs. It's always teenage girls; something about Chase's accent, floppy hair, and general demeanor just draws them in, like a moth to a flame.

"No," Foreman says, chuckling. "They're not dating. Let's get you prepped for these tests. Dr. Cameron's getting the consent forms now, you just have to sign them." He starts checking her IVs; IVIg, saline, metoclopramide. The stand's going to have to travel with her.

Audrey flops back into her bed. "What're you going to do to me?"

"Nothing major. Take some blood and run an MRI scan," Chase says, having finally regained his voice. His cheeks are still tinged pink, and Foreman holds back a smile at the sight.

"It'll be quick," he promises, moving to the drawers and pulling out a needle and the necessary vials. "In fact, we can do the blood draw right here, once Dr. Cameron returns with the paperwork."

"You rang?" Cameron says, a clipboard and pen in hand. She passes them both off to Audrey, pointing out where to sign.

Audrey hands the paperwork back to Cameron a minute later, who then leaves the room with Chase to schedule the MRI. She holds out her left arm. "How much do you need?"

"Three vials," Foreman says, grabbing a rolling stool and bringing it over to her bedside. Placing said vials in his pocket, he sets the needle down on the tray next to the bed and starts feeling the crook of Audrey's arm for prominent veins. Nothing.

The tourniquet goes around her bicep, the needle into her arm only a minute later. Unlike most of their patients, Audrey chooses to watch as her blood fills the vials with an odd sense of fascination.

"You interested in biology?" Foreman asks.

"No way." Audrey grins at his expression, teeth flashing in the awful blue tinge of hospital lighting. "I took the pre-req. Reminded me of how much I hate it."

Foreman pulls the needle out after filling the last vial, then presses a small gauze pad to the inside of her elbow before taping it to her skin. "Dr. Cameron will be back to get you for the MRI shortly," he says, then leaves the room.

-

Chase is humming under his breath when Cameron slots the images from the MRI up onto the lightboard for House to see. "No cirrhosis," she sighs.

"Doesn't mean anything," House says, pacing across the room.

"Her liver is failing, and no cirrhosis doesn't mean anything?"

House pauses. Instead of answering Cameron's question, he glares right past Foreman at Chase and snaps, "Can you stop?"

Immediately, Chase quiets. His lips press together, and the already barely-audible humming ceases entirely. House nods, and the discussion flips back over to the patient. Still, glancing back at Chase, Foreman can see the vague flicker of his vocal cords. Despite the attempt at subtlety, it's clear he's struggling to suppress the tic.

"—testing her," House is saying when he brings his attention back to the more-important discussion at hand. "Liver enzyme panel will be back when dawn breaks. While you're waiting for that, you three can go on a little field trip. Go break into her dorm."

Chase nods and leaves the room without a word. Cameron's gaze trails after him before she follows, and House raises an eyebrow. "What's up with him?" he asks.

Foreman sighs. He wasn't sure about Chase from the moment House informed him that his new coworker had Tourette's, and weeks later, he still can't tell if the younger doctor should even have been allowed to become an intensivist in the first place. Constant, high-pressure situations cannot be good for someone prone to anxiety, especially when that anxiety can manifest in them killing someone because said person was too busy jerking their head around.

He's a neurologist. Despite what Chase thinks, Foreman is far from ignorant about what his condition entails, and he knows that what Chase is letting House do to him every meeting is going to screw them over in the future.

After sending a passing glance toward House, Foreman follows Chase and Cameron out of the room. "You want to drive?" he asks Cameron, who shrugs, keeping pace with him.

"I don't mind," she says, "if I can stop for gas on the way back."

Foreman nods, and switches topics back to the case. They've both learned better than to let Chase drive, after the first and decidedly final time. "There's not much privacy in a dorm room," he comments. "We're probably better off questioning her roommate and RA."

Chase, lagging a few feet behind them, asks, "Do we have a copy of her schedule? It might help us narrow our search."

"How, exactly?"

"We check the classrooms," he says, then lets out a jerky exhale, shoulders tensing up and eyes squeezing closed for a second.

Cameron, at least, is unfazed. "We don't usually check our patient's places of work, just their residences."

Chase isn't giving up. "She's in college," he counters. "It's more than likely that most of her time is spent outside of her dorm. We can ask other students in those classes if they've noticed anything weird."

"Other people would be sick, too," Foreman snaps at him, and Chase's entire face screws up for a moment. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but it's swallowed by a hum, the same tic House told him to suppress. Frustration passes over his features, and he goes quiet.

"It's worth looking into," Cameron says, her voice breaking through the sudden tension. "We can't check every classroom, though. Princeton's campus is way too big."

They lapse into silence after that, occasionally interrupted by Chase's humming tic. With how repetitive it's being, and how soft it is whenever he lets it out, it's clear that he's still trying to suppress it. Idiot; neither Foreman nor Cameron are going to yell at him for it.

Chase doesn't protest when Foreman claims the passenger seat. Instead, he leans against the window after buckling his seatbelt, letting his eyes slip closed for a moment. It's still pitch-black outside, aside from the streetlights and other establishments along the road. The dirty remnants of their recent snowfall are still pushed up against the curb, half-melted and refrozen into misshapen blobs. Cameron's attention flickers to their surroundings whenever they hit a red light, and she comments, "It's weird to see everything so... still."

Foreman huffs out a slightly-bitter laugh. "That's probably because, like most people, you're not awake at five in the morning."

"We're doctors," Cameron says, flicking her blinker on and glancing around the deserted road before turning left. She's a good driver, which is to be expected from a woman like her. Surprisingly relaxed behind the wheel, but he supposes that after seeing Chase drive, anyone would gain some confidence. "We work more than fifty hours a week, on average. Our sleep schedules revolve around the amusement of our boss, and unlike most people, I am woken up at five in the morning at least once a week." The smirk that follows that statement is surprising, but welcomed.

"Fair enough," Foreman concedes, then, realizing there hasn't been any input from their resident Aussie, glances at the backseat.

Chase is asleep, chest rising and falling steadily. With a start, Foreman realizes it's the first time he's ever seen Chase without a tic rippling underneath his skin, begging for release. He's oddly relaxed in sleep, muscles slack without any of the tension that normally binds him together. Even stranger, Chase somehow looks even younger than he normally does, with the strain gone from his face.

"Chase? You okay?" Cameron asks, obviously having noticed Foreman's sudden quietude.

"He's asleep," Foreman says, turning back to face the road again.

Cameron sighs and presses her lips together, sympathy blooming across her face. "He's probably exhausted. We can let him sleep."

"It's hasn't even been two hours since House called us; he shouldn't be crashing yet."

"He was attending a surgery before all this," Cameron reminds him, her gaze remaining focused on the road in front of them. Luckily, Princeton University isn't too far from PPTH, and Nassau Hall comes into sight after a handful of moments.

It doesn't take Cameron long to find suitable parking. "Do you want to wake him up, or should I?"

Foreman snorts. "He's not seven. Watch, this'll be enough." His boots crunch softly against the frozen grass, and he pointedly looks into the back windows until Cameron follows his gaze, then loudly shuts the car door.

Chase startles, jerking awake. Immediately, a tic forces his head to the side, and he glares at Foreman through the window before unbuckling and sliding out on Cameron's side.

"Not funny," he murmurs, once he comes into earshot. His accent is thicker with the remains of sleep clinging to him, making it harder to understand him than usual. He shivers a bit in the cool nighttime air, breath making clouds in front of him. "Can we go inside, now?"

-

The birds were just starting to sing by the time Foreman crossed the parking lot with Cameron and Chase, and glancing outside now as they make their way up to the fourth floor, dawn is already spilling across the sky.

Cameron drops their patient's file on the conference room table. "Negative for hepatitis A, B, and C."

"Liver panel come back yet?" House asks.

"No. It could be cancer," she suggests.

"A tumor, or multiple tumors, would have shown up on the MRI. Might be hemochromatosis, or Wilson's disease," Chase says, slumping into a seat. He presses his fingertips against his temple, wincing slightly.

Foreman interjects, "Maybe we're thinking about it the wrong way. Maybe it's not the liver malfunctioning because of a condition, maybe it's the liver malfunctioning because of what's going into it."

"We tested everything we got from her dorm," Cameron protests, "and it all came back negative for toxins."

"There's no way we got everything she came in contact with. Princeton's got a big campus."

"That's what I was saying earlier, but you both said other students would've been sick, if that were the case." Chase's elbow jerks back, and he sighs. "The problem is with her liver, not inside of it."

He twists away from the conversation, then, and preses his face into a raised shoulder. Shuddering softly, he releases a barely-audible "h'ksh!" He sniffles, and looks up to see House glaring at him.

"That's not a tic, is it?"

He shakes his head slowly, cheeks rosy with what Foreman assumes is embarrassment. "Just a sneeze."

"Bless you," Cameron murmurs. Chase flashes a half-smile at her.

"Do a biopsy of her liver," House says, staring at the whiteboard. "Foreman's right, it probably is inside of her. Question her for any symptoms that she might have chosen not to mention earlier. And see if she's been taking a high amount of over-the-counter painkillers recently." He pops a Vicodin, then, and raises his eyebrows at them, imploring them to go.

The weight of exhaustion is settling down on all of them, but no one bears it more obviously than Chase. His tics are coming out slower, less forcefully, as if he can't quite keep up with the pace they normally set for him. The motion will jolt through his body, and then Chase will actually become aware of it. Every tic has an echo, almost, where it comes out subdued and then Chase puts the effort in, repeating the action.

"You okay?" Cameron asks softly, and Chase nods.

"I just want to be done with this case," he responds.

Behind Chase, Cameron shoots Foreman a concerned look. The eldest doctor simply shrugs, and says, "The quicker we finish this, the quicker we'll figure it out."

Chase nods, then shudders again with another contained sneeze. "eK'sch!"

"Bless you," Cameron says once more.

"Thank you." Chase sniffles, then wrinkles up his nose, scrunching it twice. Foreman can't tell if it's a tic, or in response to the sneeze. Either way, Chase shakes his head, then says, "I'm going to go and get a room for the biopsy."

They watch him disappear down the hallway, white lab coat gradually blending in with the other doctors'. "Did he seem... off, to you?" Cameron asks, brow furrowed.

Foreman shrugs. "He's probably tired."

Cameron frowns harder. "He slept in the car on the way to Princeton and back."

"Ten minutes doesn't replace eight hours. Nor does it account for that surgery he assisted," Foreman points out.

Anything left of Cameron's argument dissolves when they arrive at Audrey's room. She's asleep, but stirs the second Cameron pushes her door open. There's an emesis basin on the floor next to the bed, freshly cleaned.

"Hey," she says, pushing herself up on her pillows. Her brow furrows as she takes in the two of them. "Where's the other doctor? The one with the accent?"

"Getting a room," Foreman says. The snark is unintentional, honestly, but he still can't get over the fact that it's always the college girls that have crushes on Chase.

Audrey's clearly unsatisfied by the half-answer, but at least she's got her priorities straight. "Do you... know what's wrong with me, yet? What did the tests say?"

"You're negative for hepatitis," Cameron says, looking at the monitor. "We're going to do a biopsy to rule out a couple of other possibilities, like hemochromatosis."

Audrey's eyes widen. "It's not serious, is it? Like, I'm not going to need surgery?"

"You shouldn't," Foreman comments, taking in her worried expression. Only half of their patients immediately jump to surgery, either expecting the worst or the best. "Why?"

"I've got a volleyball game in three days. Can't miss it."

"Your roommate mentioned something about you being on the varsity team," Cameron says, pulling out the paperwork for consent to a liver biopsy.

Audrey grins, taking the clipboard when Cameron offers it. "Yeah, Sammy's never been real interested in the sport. I love her to death, though." She rolls her eyes playfully at them before her tone sobers. "It's tough, y'know? My coach is already pissed that I'm missing practice because I'm in the hospital."

A sudden thought barges its way to the forefront of Foreman's brain. "You have a practice bag?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"You keep it in your dorm?"

"Usually. I think Margo—one of my teammates—has it right now, although I have no idea why." Audrey looks at them. "Does it matter?"

Cameron glances from Audrey to Foreman, catching on. "It might."

"We've seen a lot of high school and college athletes take ibuprofen before their practices or games, just so that they can keep going," Foreman says. "It works in the moment, because you can't feel the pain of exerting yourself. Usually, it's warned against because athletes can't realize when to stop pushing their bodies."

"In other cases, though, an excess amount of ibuprofen is taken in over a long period of time. This can eventually lead to liver damage," Cameron explains.

Audrey closes her eyes and leans back against the pillows, her hands coming up to cover her face. Her voice is pained when she admits, "I've been taking two pills a day for almost two months, now."

Foreman looks over to Cameron. "I don't think we're going to need that biopsy."

Cameron's already moving, taking the clipboard from Audrey and taking out her pager, most likely to let Chase know of the change. Less than a moment later, she's shoving it back into her pocket and gesturing at Foreman. "He'll meet us at the labs. We've still got a vial of her blood left to run a test."

"House is going to be so annoyed," Foreman says, leaving the room and shaking his head in disbelief.

-

"We're treating you for ibuprofen overuse," Cameron explains, barely an hour later, attaching a bag to the IV stand. "This is going to flush your system, and you should be good to go."

"That's it?" Audrey asks, staring up at Cameron in shock. "Really?"

"Yep," Foreman says. He barely catches the sound of Chase repeating the word to himself quietly; a tic. "That's it."

Cameron warns, "Don't take this lightly. You can't take ibuprofen with repeated use, or you might damage your liver again."

"It's best for you if you stop taking NSAIDs completely for the next few months," Chase says. "That'll allow your liver to—to—to—"

Chase pauses to take a breath, clearly frustrated with the palilalia. His jaw snaps shut with an audible click of his teeth, and his head bobbles a few times, eyes glazing over. Foreman doesn't even realize what's happening until Audrey yelps.

"Oh, my God," Cameron breathes, surging to her feet.

Foreman ends up kneeling down on the floor right beside Chase, turning him onto his back and checking to make sure he's breathing. "Should've gone home," he mutters, glancing over to Cameron, whose concern is worn like a badge of honor.

Chase groans, his eyes fluttering weakly. Contrary to popular belief, unless they're slipping into a coma, most people only remain unconscious for a handful of seconds after fainting. Any longer, and brain damage is almost guaranteed.

"Are you okay?" Cameron asks, working with Foreman to get Chase up to a sitting position. It's not that hard; Chase isn't very heavy, and he's willing to work with them. Her fingers brush across his forehead and she freezes almost comically before putting the back of her hand against his skin. "You're burning up."

"Why didn't you tell us you were sick?" Foreman demands.

Before Chase is able to respond, angry beeping fills the room, joined by the sudden, desperate sound of choking. "She's asphyxiating," Cameron breathes, and rushes to shout, "We need help in here!"

The next minute is a blur. Foreman rushes to intubate, Cameron's pushing a cc of epinephrine, the nurses are frantic, and Chase is still on the floor, apparently feverish. The epinephrine kicks in, and slowly, the beeping of the alarm stops. Audrey stares up at them, eyes wide and pupils blown with fear.

"Not the ibuprofen," Cameron says, breathless.

"Not the ibuprofen," Foreman agrees.

There's a moment of silence where they're both clearly wondering what they're dealing with, if not overuse of ibuprofen.

Then, Chase groans, and their collective attention immediately switches back to their coworker, with the nurses able to handle Audrey for the time being.

"I'm fine," he mutters, already struggling to his feet. "Just need to... catch my breath." He punctuates the sentence with shoulder jerk.

"You just passed out, man, that's not exactly the definition of fine," Foreman says, pushing down on Chase's shoulder when he actually makes an effort to stand. "Stay down, man."

He gestures at the nurses. "We've still got a patient."

"What is it about the words 'you just passed out' that confuses you?" Cameron asks. "You didn't hit your head, did you?"

"Why are we fondling Chase in front of the patient?"

House's voice cuts through the room, and Cameron and Foreman both turn to look at him, Cameron with indignation and Foreman with sheer disappointment.

"I'm not—" Cameron starts.

"Zip it. I'm trying to get rid of the patient," House says, then limps over to Audrey's bed.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Audrey asks, her voice slightly raspy.

"I'm surprised you haven't been experiencing lung issues before now," House comments absently, looking at the detached IV bag of heparin that's no longer flowing into her veins. He sighs, then looks at her. "You have alpha-1 antritrypsin deficiency."

"What?"

"This is... Dr. House," Cameron says, interfering, and gives House a questioning glance. "AAT deficiency?"

He shrugs innocently. "It was on the liver panel."

Of course it was on the liver panel, considering that it took half a day longer than it should have to come back. The one thing that actually would have let them know what's wrong with her.

"The NSAIDs will clear out of your system normally. Try not to take any more, or you might end up right back here. And take it easy on the sports." House gives her one of his tight-lipped smiles, the ones he does only for politeness, then looks back over to Chase. "Why was she fondling you?"

"He passed out," Cameron replies shortly.

House's eyebrows shoot up in genuine surprise. "Why?"

"He's sick." Foreman gently hauls Chase to his feet, who sways the second he's upright and shakes his head violently enough to nearly send him right back to the floor. Foreman's hand clamps down tightly on his shoulder, keeping him on his feet.

"I'm fine," Chase repeats, but it's clear he knows he's defeated.

"Clearly not," House snarks. "One of you, drive him home. Or ask Wilson to do it. His lunch break is soon. Either way, we're done here." Unexpectedly, his tone softens, just a bit, when his gaze lands on Chase. "Get some sleep."

And then, he's leaving, cane tapping softly against the floor in a rhythmic pattern.

Cameron exchanges a look with Foreman. House is right; Chase is in no state to drive, not when he's practically on the verge of fainting again and nursing a fever of what Foreman guesses is nothing lower than one-oh-one. Cameron's place is only ten minutes away from the hospital, but in the complete opposite direction to Chase's. On the other hand, Foreman lives a bit further, but Chase's place isn't much of a detour for him.

"I can take him," he offers. "You finish up here."

Cameron nods, then murmurs, "Feel better," to Chase as she goes to console Audrey, who's looking more than freaked out.

Chase is quiet aside from the occasional tic as Foreman leads him down the hall to the diagnostic conference room so they can gather their stuff before leaving. Wilson's leaving House's office just as they walk in, and looks at Chase with sympathy in his expression.

"House said he passed out?" he questions.

Foreman nods his affirmation, shedding his lab coat as Chase hums. "Foreman's taking me home."

Wilson nods. "AAT deficiency?"

"We didn't get the liver panel back," Foreman says, rolling his eyes. "I'm assuming the tech didn't send up the printout like we asked."

"At least House didn't try to, I don't know, inject her with ursodiol." Foreman glances over at Chase, who now has his messenger bag slung across his chest and his wearing his jacket, beanie stuffed into the pocket. "You ready?"

"Yeah," he says, blinking hard. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." Foreman nods at Wilson. "See you tomorrow."

"Drive safely," Wilson says, and goes back to his office.

Chase stays pretty close to Foreman as they head down the elevator, in spite of his initial protests that he was fine. He's always seemed like one of those doctors whose body would give up long before his brain did, kind of like House. But with the case ending abruptly, there's really nothing else they can do until House drops another file onto the conference room table.

The second they hit the cold air, though, Chase ducks away from him to bury a handful of sneezes in the elbow of his coat, becoming harsher as they progress. "h'ksHh! iK'schh! ih'gxXt!" The last one comes out slightly stifled, and Chase's shoulders tense up to his ears while both his elbows jerk back, the movement half-aborted, followed by the heel of his palm coming up to smack him in the chin. Foreman can hear it when his teeth slam together.

"Woah, you good?" Foreman asks.

Chase nods, breathing softly. "Can't sneeze and tic at the same time," he says, by way of explanation.

Foreman takes a second to piece that bit of information together. "Wait, so if you sneeze, it basically makes your tics worse?"

"Pretty much," Chase sighs. "My tics usually feel... heavier, I guess, when I'm sick. They're harder to get out, even though I need it."

"...That sucks, man," Foreman says. Chase huffs out a laugh, ticcing again while they walk through the parking lot.

"Yeah. I'm kind of used to it though, you know?" He pauses at Foreman's car. "You sure you want to drive me? You're going to have to get me tomorrow morning, too, because my car'll be here."

"It's fine. Whatever keeps you off the roads."

Chase sighs in agreement. "Believe me, I don't like it either."

They're referring to Chase's driving tic, which makes him wiggle the steering wheel. It's not much, but it was enough to catch both himself and Cameron off-guard the first and only time they let Chase drive to a patient's house. With a start, Foreman realizes this is the only time Chase has actually talked about his tics, bringing them up casually, like they're a normal part of his life. Which, he supposes, they are. They're just abnormal to the rest of them.

His thoughts are interrupted by Chase sneezing again. "eKh'sch'h! Sorry. Change in temperature." He blinks, half of his face twitches, and then sneezes again, more contained. "hk'tt!"

"Bless you," Foreman says. Chase is probably slightly delirious, he says to himself. That's why he's being open, for once.

He backs out of the parking spot, and takes Chase home.

[chaotic-iguana]

can I have din hurt/comfort fic recs pls and thank u

edit; stop LIKING THE POST HELP ME PLS REC.

[sunflower-snz]

Spy vs Sniffles

This took way too long to write, stupid writers block. Anyway, cue a couple thousand words of Natasha Romanoff being very sick and stubborn much to her girlfriends dismay. Little smidge of angst thrown in for some *spice* but it’s all sorted out quickly. 

No fandom knowledge really needed, just enjoy the wlw rep >:D  I apologise that the lack of editing is appalling but it's readable :,) Enjoy! 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The Black Widow was a trained assassin. A world-class spy, unbeaten in her field. An Avenger! The Black Widow was not burdened with such mundane problems like having a cold. The Black Widow doesn’t simply get sick. 

However, Natasha Romanoff does. 

But nobody else needed to know that of course. Especially not the Avengers. Tony gave her trouble enough for the few times she has shown herself to be human and she really was not ready for the snide comments that she was bound receive if this were to get out. Regardless of that, Natasha had always hated the idea of admitting weakness to anyone, even her closest peers. No. She had to hide it. That was easier said than done of course. 

She’d woken up that morning with a congested groan, the previous 8 hours rest she’d gotten feeling like little to none. The dim light filtering through the curtains revealed a room adorned with sleek, modern furnishings, a stark contrast to the tumultuous world she navigated daily. The room was silent except for the soft hum of the ventilation system yet even that seemed to hurt her head, a dull ache forming within her temples. 

Nat sniffled thickly, pushing herself to sit upright as she felt her nose begin to slowly drip, “Oh, gross.” She mumbled under her breath, reaching up to swipe the underside of her wrist against the bridge of her nose, in an attempt to quell the growing itch. 

“Hhup’tsch! Hh..Hhi’hiptshu”! 

It didn’t work. She was ducked forwards as she gave into the itch, sneezing down into her hands.  Nat cringed, sniffling thickly as she clumsily stumbled over to her attached bathroom, keeping her hand tightly cupped to her face as she swiped a handful of tissues from the box on her sink to clean herself up with – helpless to fight the small wince she made at already how sensitive her nose already was. 

The widow sighed, throwing away her soggy tissues before leaning over the sink to splash some cold water onto her face, “Today’s gonna be a shitshow.” She mumbled to herself, rubbing her eyes as her tired reflection in the mirror stared back at her. Natasha would’ve continued to judge her reflection further if only the insistent itching and teasing of her sinuses hadn’t snatched her attention away yet again. 

It was the feeling of discomfort that made her eyes squint shut with irritation and frustration as she groaned. Well, half a groan to be exact. She hadn’t really made it through the whole thing. Her throat objected to the motion, sending her into a set of harsh, chesty-rattling coughs that really didn’t sound good at all. The type of sound that would make a second listener cringe hard before ushering the afflicted back to bed. 

“Shit...” Shit indeed. This whole situation was shit. Natasha knew the second someone (and by someone she 100% meant her girlfriend) heard her sounding like this, she would be undoubtly forced to lay back down. No, no, no. That couldn’t happen. She wasn’t sick. She just needed to train. Just needed to sweat it out, that’s all. Then she’d be fine.  

The redhead someone managed to get dressed without stumbling over, though it had taken a little longer than usual due to the fact every time she leant over, her nose just seemed to drip. Eventually though, she’d finished pulling on her gym clothes – a sleek black crop top and leggings. Maybe not the ideal thing to wear when her body was struggling enough to keep its temperature in check she’d come to realise when a layer of goosebumps crept up and settled along her arms. Natasha shivered, pulling her arms around herself as she stepped out of her room. Whatever, she’d just blame it on the AC. 

She kept repeating her plan to herself as she slowly made her way down the long compound towards the kitchen. “Get a small bite to eat and then sweat it out. Eat then train... Eat then train... EatHh- thIhh theE’ShhIEW! Hhi’htshoo!” 

The sound of her desperate sneezes didn’t fail to echo down the corridor, making the spy’s cheeks blush a deeper shade of red at the thought of someone else hearing her outburst. Her head was throbbing, and her teary eyes barely blinked back open before a bout of rough, throat scraping coughing overtook her. Nat allowed one single exhausted sob to escape her as she leant against the wall, her body sinking against the concrete as she allowed the sweet relief of the floor to ease her exhausted body as she composed herself. She felt awful. 

And it just didn’t help that she still needed to, to- “ihh'ITSHU! HehH-Ht'SCHoo!” Natasha swore in Russian as she cursed her body for betraying her like this, rubbing the back of her wrist hard against her nose, with no care for delicacy anymore. This ended now, she growled to herself before she firmly pushed herself up of the floor, energy fuelled by self-frustration. Nat wobbled a little as she rose, but she managed to maintain her balance before continuing her way to the kitchen. 

Maria had been sat in the kitchen, sipping on a cup of coffee and working at the laptop on the countertop. She liked working there. People usually came in and out as they pleased, letting her have small casual conversations throughout the day to keep her spirits up as she worked. Plus being in close access to coffee was always nice. 

Then she heard it. A sniffle came from just outside the door. Usually, she wouldn’t have even noticed such a sound, but this was different. It was the type of sniffle that screamt of thick, cold-fuelled congestion. Not to mention the awful sounding cough that followed. You could imagine her surprise when her girlfriend came... shambling? (that’s probably the closest word to describe it) round the corner and into the kitchen. 

Maria’s eyes widened in disbelief. She nearly dropped her mug. Her girlfriend’s appearance was certainly startling to say the least, like something out of a horror film, her eyes watery, swollen and bloodshot. Her hair hung limply, plastered to her head with sweat, her nose red and dripping. She looked like she’d been hit by a train. 

“Nat? Oh my god, Natasha?” Maria gasped, “What on earth happened to you?" She frantically asked, immediately jumping up to come to her girlfriend’s side. The poor woman was swaying and fighting to keep her eyes open, she looked as if she was about to pass out, 

“I’m fine... Just tired..." Natasha spluttered, managing to turn away from her girlfriend as she fell into another round of coughing. She felt a soothing hand come to rub her back, slowly bringing her out of the fit as she struggled to catch her breath. Maria sighed as she took note of the heat radiating from her skin, shaking her head in sympathy at the sheen of sweat covering her girlfriend’s body. 

Maria kept her hand on her back as she turned to look over her girlfriend properly, “Natasha, honey, you look terrible. Come on, you’re in no condition to be up right now.” 

“I look fine," Nat muttered in reply, her tone more defensive than she intended. A sudden, forceful sneeze interrupted her, and Maria instinctively muttered a soft, "Bless you." 

The spy shot her a sharp look, "I don't need your sympathy. I just need to train and get this out of my system." 

The agent sighed, moving her hand to settle on Nat’s shoulder, "Nat, you're not in any condition to train. You'll only make it worse. Just go back to bed, okay? 

“Maria stop, listen to Hehh-, me, I’m hhH- fine, thank Hhy-you-Hh’tshhU! Hih'ii-I-eishSHOO! ” She helplessly ducked forward into a barely raised elbow, her messy red hair falling in front of her face before she straightened herself back up and pulled herself out of her girlfriend’s hold, “Just fuck off back to your work. I’m fine.” Natasha regretted the expression the second it had left her lips, but she was in no condition to fight the feverish fog clouding her judgment. 

Maria’s lips thinned into a line as her expression hardened at her girlfriend’s words. She had seen Nat sad, angry, and weak. However not once in all those moments had she ever been rude to her. Her eyes narrowed in a sudden flash of indignation, feeling like this was a complete rebuke of her concern. 

"Natalia Alianovna Romanova, I’m going to excuse what you just said on the pretence that you are absolutely burning up and have no idea what you are doing but if you think it’s acceptable to speak to me in that manner and that I’m just going to go back to work when you’re this sick, then you're delirious – which you clearly fucking are." Maria crossed her arms sternly and looked her girlfriend in the eye, her hard tone leaving no room for argument, "You are going back to your room. Right Now.” She took a deep breath, letting her annoyance fall away and be replaced with her prior concern. 

"Yes Ma'am…” Nat said reluctantly, hanging her head in defeat. She wanted to kick herself for how she’d spoken to her girlfriend and was ashamed of the ease with which the fever had driven her to outburst. She nodded in agreement despite the heat rising through her cheeks, she couldn’t deny that she was in no condition to argue her case. She looked to Maria sheepishly as she replied, accepting whatever would be said next. 

But the sharp voice she was expecting never came, instead Natasha found herself being pulled into her girlfriend’s arms and was helpless to resist. She sank into the hold. With her feverish body aching for the warmth of a human touch, she was powerless to resist and simply allowed the hold, surrendering to the warm embrace. 

"I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to be that rude..." She mumbled quietly into her girlfriend's chest her breath hitching as she tried to speak, "I just..." 

“Shh, shh.” Maria hushed her sweetly, bringing her hand up to gently cup the back of her head, “I know sweetheart, just save your poor voice, okay?” She held her girlfriend in place, her comforting hold not wavering even when Nat’s hitching breath took in a sudden shaky inhale. 

“It’s okay baby, just let it out.” The agent encouraged her gently as she felt her attempting to hold back the dreadful itch. 

Natasha hadn’t needed much more encouraging, she was going to have to give into the burning tickle either way, “ii-I-eishISHUU, Hih-tshoo! EhH-Hhh-itSHUUH!” Her nose twitched and she gave into another violent fit of powerful sneezing into Maria’s chest, her entire body shuddering weakly against her girlfriend’s grasp. “hii’hI-eishSHOO” The spy let out a soft whimper as she pressed her nose against Maria's chest as if hoping it might bring her a shred of relief from the irritating and stubborn tingling sensation, even for a second. 

“Goodness, bless you sweetheart. You done?” Maria whispered, pulling her sleeve over her hand when she received a small nod, she gently used the fabric to clean up her assassins' face, ignoring the whined complaints about ruining her clothes, “My hoodie can be washed baby, don’t you worry about that.” 

The two women exchanged a quiet moment, their attention turning to the comfort and relief that was coming from the silence, “Do you want to go back to bed now sweetie?” The agent asked quietly, pressing a soft kiss down to her girlfriend’s hot temple. 

"Please..." The spy mumbled helplessly in reply. She felt utterly exhausted and helpless to the growing pressure of this sickness that was eating her alive. Maria smiled and easily lifted the exhausted, sick girl and carried her out of the kitchen, giving Nat's rear a soft pat on the way which had elicited a small, sleepy smile from the redhead in return. It didn’t take long to reach their room and Natasha felt herself be gently laid down on their bed. Familiar blankets were quickly tucked around her. 

With a soft, understanding smile, Maria joined Natasha on the bed. She carefully wrapped her arms around the spy. The room soon fell into a soothing silence, interrupted only by Natasha's occasional sniffles and coughs and Maria’s soft reassurances. 

"Rest now, my love. I'm here," She whispered, placing another loving kiss on Natasha's forehead. It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep after that, soon enough the redhead’s eyes had fluttered closed and she was finally resting, her sleeping forming carefully cuddled in protective arms. The world outside their room ceased to matter as the two women found solace in each other's company. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

[softsnzstuff]

OF/MD - Kraken!Ed with a Cold

Based on this post thread. Have a snippet of what myself and @snzsnchillz-afterdark think menacing Kraken!Ed would be like when he’s got the worst cold and is trying to still be threatening. This one goes out to my OFMD buddies - @friv0lite @peach-plumb-pear2 @sniffles-and-tickles @softersteve

Based on the new promo pictures because Taika could choke me and I’d thank him Ed looks so good 🫡😍

Set between seasons 1 and 2 (before canon S2 has come out if anyone finds this post 10/05/23)

CW: intentional contagion

The crew of the Revenge were well used to Ed’s overnight personality changes at this point. At first he’d been all weepy and switched to being one with the Earth and musical and personifying his soul…whatever that meant.

The second switch happened a few days later. Over night. When he had reached the point in his breakup that condoned anger and violence. He’d cut off Izzy’s toe and fed it to him in the night, also tossing plenty of Stede’s things overboard - partial crew included.

He’d been in full swing as Blackbeard for a couple of weeks now - ravaging ships, looting them, and leaving men for dead in ways more unimaginable than skinning them with the snail fork.

This third personality shift happened when he came down with the cold from Hell… or rather - tried to convince everyone that he hadn’t.

Ed had been up Izzy’s ass the the last day, quite literally screaming orders in his ear, pausing occasionally to cough wetly. Izzy would just close his eyes and force a smile before responding with, “Yes, Captain.”

This morning, Izzy had awoken the crew early - somehow managing to be both yelling at them and quiet as not to wake Ed.

“Alright listen up, dogs! Blackbeard is… under the weather… and is more irritable than usual.” Izzy started. “I want you lot to just do what he says and try not to fucking upset him.”

“Why is that our job? He’s the one being a dick.” Jim muttered, twirling their knife.

Izzy sighed, having known Ed the longest. “Because the sooner he is well again, the sooner he stops being a cunt.”

“Yeah, that’s a good enough answer for me I feel.” Frenchie looked around for agreement. Everyone stayed silent, but Fang gave a single nod in solidarity.

“I want you all to keep your heads down and stay out of his fucking way. If he asks anything, you say ‘yes captain’ and fucking do it. And you-” Izzy points to Frenchie, “I want you find what’s left of any medicine that Bonnet left on board. Is that understood?”

There were some silent nods.

“I SAID IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?!?” Izzy screamed.

“Yes, fucking Christ.” Jim grumbled, bringing some hands up towards their ears.

“H’iszzzSCHEW! K’tCHuh!”

Just as they were finishing up, Ed kicked the door in, sniffling thickly against his gloved hand.

“What the fuck are you all doing down here???”

Izzy quickly came up with a lie, “I was just telling these fucking idiots that it shouldn’t take this long to clean the floor!”

Izzy shot Frenchie a glance and he immediately dropped to his knees, using a piece of his shirt to scrub at the floor.

“I’m sorry captain Blackbeard sir, it’s just hard to clean the floor without any.. water?” He tried to play along with the charade.

“Hmm. You’re right.” Ed hummed thoughtfully before spitting on the floor right in front of the younger man. “There. Now you’ve got something.”

Frenchie held back a gag as Ed stormed out the other door to the deck of the ship, Izzy and crew following behind. Jim have Frenchie a hand up and he scurried off to go find Stede’s medicine stash.

*****

One thing about the gentleman pirate is that he was bound to have loads of the unnecessary - books, fine fabrics, and medicine. It only took a few minutes for Frenchie to find the bottles in the Captains’ chambers bathroom, but seeing as he couldn’t read, he just grabbed everything and shoved it into a crate to bring to Izzy on the upper deck.

Hands full of different bottles and vials, he turned on his heels to leave the Captain’s chambers. Slamming into the chest of the captain…

“The fuck are you doing in my room?!” Ed hissed, looking the man up and down.

“I uh… you see Mr.Blackbeard sir… I just.. I was…”

Ed’s scowl gave way momentarily to something more relaxed. He turned to the side out of habit, sneezing openly at the air.

“Eh’tSZzZiew! Snlrff”

“Shut up! You’re fucking taking too long.” Ed held up a hand, making Frenchie stop.

The crew member was frozen, staring wide eyed, his eyes locked on the small trail of mess leaking down Ed’s upper lip.

Ed had him pinned against the wall. “The fuck are you staring at?”

“You’ve just…. You’ve got a little…on your face…” Frenchie stammered, gesturing towards Ed’s nose.

He watched in horror as Ed’s nostrils flared once again right in front of him. He squeezed his eyes and hoped for the best.

“H’ekTSZZZuhew!”

Frenchie scrunched his face as he felt droplets hit his cheek.

“Well now you’ve got a little something on your face too.” Ed released his grip on the man, throwing him against the wall and rubbing his own nose again.

“This is so unsanitary.” Frenchie whined quietly.

“What was that???”

“I said uh… sanctuary! Thank you for providing us with such a great… sanctuary….” The fake enthusiasm trailed off at the end before he scurried away to the upper deck.

When he arrived topside, he looked like he’d seen a ghost. Jim was standing at Izzy’s side.

“Jeez what the fuck happened to you?” They asked.

“Here’s your fucking medicine.” Frenchie aggressively dropped the crate of medicine on the barrel in front of Izzy, pausing to wipe at his face and swiping one of the bottles, “this one’s for me now.”

Izzy huffed a knowing sigh and rubbed at his temple. “He sneeze on you?”

Jim made a face of disgust as Frenchie nodded. “Yup…”

“He’s worse than I thought.” Izzy groaned. “Never thought I’d say this but we need Stede back.”

[sosoftxx]

Got prompts?

Feel free to drop me a belly-related writing prompt and I'll fill it out to the best of my ability!

Key below:

🍩- Stuffing

🎈- Bloating

🥤- Eructo

💨- Eprocto

🥦- Upset Belly

💊- Sickfic

🩺- Medical

🎆- Free choice

[sparky-kasane]

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Hetalia: Axis Powers

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: America/Japan (Hetalia)

Characters: America (Hetalia), Japan (Hetalia), england is mentioned

Additional Tags: Sickfic, Sicktember 2022, Sicktember, America is a dumbass, Japan puts up with him, Human & Country Names Used (Hetalia), Marukaite Chikyuu, y'all are fucking weeaboos, this I know cuz I'm one too, Boku Hetalia, I will be using english dub character speech patterns, which means I'll be writing Kiku with his accent

Series: Part 9 of Sparky Kasane's Sicktember 2022

Summary:

Alfred manages to get a sore throat, and his loving Kiku has a simple home remedy that should help. So does Alfie, actually! But surprising literally novody, the two have very different definitions of "remedy"

Tagging: @sicktember

[godfistgonnalive]

chat im sick this is like a sickfic in real life except i have no one to take care of me so i will die now