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#fever
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Actually Asthmatic
Summary: Reader comes to work despite being sick and pepper makes sure you’re ok.
TW: asthma, fever, overworking, sickness lol
Pairing: pepper x Platonic!Reader
Words: 2.5K
A/n Part two coming soon (part two will have natty and wands >:). Also, so much has happened since I posted last and I’m so sorry it’s taken this long. I’ve been super busy with uni. But… I got a girlfriend :) I also have a ton of uni work I have to keep up with and I have like no time for anything now. But I will do my best to keep writing. So expect my updates to be a bit more spaced but I’m NOT giving up on this account :)
Living in a dorm was an interesting thing. You had a room, kitchen and bathroom to yourself, but it was lonely.
You knew you were in for a rough time when your lab partner came to a lecture sick. Not only that, but they were coughing … a lot. You knew no matter how hard you tried you were bound to get sick and mentally you resigned yourself to your new fate.
Lo and behold the next day your throat hurt, but it was manageable. Another day passes and your head had begun to feel like it was stuffed with cotton. A truely lovely experience. To make matters even better, you had three classes and work today. Your shift at stark industries was something you couldn’t miss even if you wanted to.
Pepper was coming to check on your branch of the company and you needed to be able to show her the numbers at the meeting you were both attending. You needed to prove it hasn’t been a mistake to hire a collage student with crippling debt and insomnia to run a branch of what was probably the most successful company in New York if not the world.
You flipped the page on your textbook and bit back a sigh. There was still an hour left of class and the world seemed to be against you, time was moving slower, and it felt rather personal.
You rested your head on the table and tried to block out the droning of your collage professor, he was a great guy, but your head felt like it was being run over by a bus and your cheeks were warm and your fingers cold.
You must have drifted off at some point because before you knew it someone was nudging you. You groggily sat up and squinted into the light, a frown marring your face.
“Y/n/n, get up. Class is over.” It was one of your friends, you gave a half grunt and looked around.
The lecture hall was quickly emptying out and so you grabbed your bag and textbook and stood, swaying slightly.
“Whoa. You good?” Your friend asked and you nodded mumbling something about standing up too fast before beelining for the door.
You bid goodbye to your friend at the train station and boarded the tube that would take you to work.
It was about a five-minute walk from the train to stark industries, but the cold weather that threatened your lungs working in tandem with your asthma and what you were now beginning to think was the start of a nasty chest infection, made it seem like hours of hiking through the amazon after dark.
You adjusted the backpack on your shoulder and waited for the train to slow, the next stop was yours and despite it being the quiet carriage there was still the loud sound of train tracks passing under making your head feel like a drum being beaten by a tone-deaf monkey on steroids.
The train almost had pity on you as it slowed just as you thought the monkey had found an amp to make his music ‘better.’
You stumbled off the platform and hurried up the steps to the footpath. The crowd jostled you and you felt more than desire to just let the ocean of people sweep you out with the tide.
But you forged on. So did the monkey.
You must have looked like death incarnate by the time you arrived at the lobby. You were flushed at the very least and you could hear the wheezing in your breath as you took in air by the lungful.
You scanned your keycard once you had located it in the mess that was your backpack. Stepping into the clean white walls of stark industries made you feel like a racoon in an upper-class neighbourhood.
You made your way to the elevator that would take you to the board room and finally paused to catch your breath which was now just a string of wheezes. You knew that because the look the lady at the reception shot you was one that was a mix of concern, confusion and pity.
Your throat was raw, and your face was congested as well as your chest. You sounded like you swallowed a frog, and the frog was also now sick and subsequently congested.
When the lift arrived you thanked Stark, who was your own personal god that there was nobody else in it. You stepped in and lent against the railing after thumbing the button for your floor with what was probably more force than necessary.
You sat back against the cool metal bar and watched the numbers climb higher and higher as you approached the master board room which was also the same floor as peppers office. A place you rarely visited except when you had the quarterly board meeting like today.
As the lift pinged and the doors slide open smoothly you stepped off and gathered your bearings.
You caught sight of a door at the end of the hall with peppers name on it and smiled. She was also one of your own personal heroes. She worked like a horse and kicked ass like an avenger all while wearing heels and a smile that said, ‘don’t fuck with me before I’ve had my coffee’.
You navigated your way to the board room and cracked the door a bit. So far there were a few people in there and it was still early. You smiled at the unfamiliar faces and sat down.
You didn’t know any of them yet and so you kept to yourself as you and the others waited for pepper and the rest of the companies branch managers and board members to come in.
After a bit pepper entered looking as swauve and elegant as ever. She took her seat at the head of the table and took note of the empty chairs with a small frown.
“It seems some people are still absent, so we’ll wait for a bit until the numbers are more … concrete.” She said with a smile drawing a few laughs from around the room.
You kept your head down, but your eyes kept straying back to pepper.
After a few minutes of you being sat there doodling in your notepad, the meeting started.
You paid attention to most things but once you had presented your numbers you had more or less zoned out. At one point you caught pepper looking at you closely and decided to try and pay attention again.
But the meeting droned on and soon your chest felt tighter and tighter. Your face flushed with the effort of suppressing a cough. The wheeze that had left you in the elevator had seemingly returned and you were doing your best to keep it quiet.
Your eyes looked around the room for an escape and you caught pepper looking at you again. She looked worried.
‘Are you ok?’ She mouthed and you nodded but she looked unsure.
You decided to leave, just to step out for a moment to get some air and let your lungs do their thing.
You waited until all eyes were back on the man presenting before slipping out the door.
You beelined for the bathroom which were luckily empty with everyone currently on the floor in the meeting.
You braced yourself by placing your hands either side of the sink and let out a string of deep chesty coughs. The wheeze got worse, and you cursed yourself for leaving your asthma inhaler in your backpack in the board room.
The coughing still hadn’t ceased, and it seemed the attack was making it harder to catch your breath than normal.
You barely registered the door to the bathrooms being opened and the sound of high heels click across the floor in hurried steps.
You felt a hand press between your shoulder blades as someone drew slow circles on your back. Someone was telling you to breathe and you recognised the voice.
Pepper.
You felt something being pressed into your hands and looked down to find a glass of water.
You gratefully took a sip and found it soothed your throat pretty well.
After a second, the fit ended and you just had the wheeze to worry about.
“Are you alright?” Pepper asked looking worried and trying not to fuss over you.
You shot her a weak smile.
“I’m ok.” You grinned unconvincingly. She gave you a look you assumed tony often received and caved. “I’m sick.” You rasped.
“I’d have never guessed.” Pepper joked rolling her eyes and guided you by the shoulders out the door.
“Where are we going?” You asked still holding the water.
“Well, you need to rest, and the board can handle the rest of the meeting. I want you to get that cough looked at and i have some emails to check. So, we are going to my office, you are going to lie down and I’m going to get some work done.” Pepper said with a smile, and you looked at her like she had hung the stars in the sky.
“Thank you.” You mumbled.
“That’s quite alright honey.” She smiled and then her brow crinkled as if she just noticed your wheezing. Which spoiler alert… she had.
You avoided her eyes as she scrutinised you closely. After a second her pace slowed and yours matched it before she stepped in front of you and placed a hand on your chin. She tilted your head back to look at her and met your gaze with a motherly worried expression.
“You’re wheezing.” She noted.
“And you’re pepper potts.” You said back looking nervous.
“Yes.” She deadpanned in response. “Y/n, are you … asthmatic?” She asked and you looked away.
That was enough of a response for her as she sighed. “Wheres your puffer sweetie?”
“Back in my backpack in the meeting room.” You mumbled.
“Alright here’s what we are going to do. I’m going to get you set up in my office and then go and get your bag for you.” She said and resumed her pace to her office.
When she arrived, she scanned her keycard and opened the door. It was an amazing office. Floor to ceiling windows in a corner room made the whole space perfectly lit with natural light.
You stepped inside in awe, and she guided you over to an expensive looking blue couch with a fond smile.
“You stay here, I’ll be right back.” She said and you grinned and nodded still star struck.
You could see the New York skyline from up here, the city bustling below.
You had barely blinked by the time pepper had returned.
She handed you your bag which you took and thanked her again.
“Now take whatever you need to and try to get some rest, I’ll be at my desk just there if you need anything.” She said with a smile, lingering to make sure you took your inhaler.
After you had uncapped the small blue device and administered the medicine, she gave you a curt nod and headed to her desk.
Almost as soon as your head hit the soft fluffy throw pillows on the couch you were out.
The next few hours were spent toeing the line between sleep and wakefulness. At one point as you dozed you heard pepper talking to someone on the phone before you returned to sleep.
Pepper had sat down to get some work done but had barely typed out one email before her eyes were back on you. You seemed so small in this moment. Just a young adult, you reminded her of peter. She wanted to make sure you were ok and the small wheeze coming from your lips made her worried.
Your face was slightly flushed, and pepper was sure nobody had been messing with the room temperature controls. Feeling maternal, she picked up her phone and punched in the number for Bruce’s lab. Better safe than sorry.
After a short conversation with Bruce in which she relayed your symptoms, he decided he wanted to see you to run further tests and rule out pneumonia. Pepper had looked over at you and agreed, you had been sleeping for nearly four hours now and seemingly weren’t doing much better, and including your asthma she didn’t want to risk anything.
Bruce and pepper agreed to bring you to the avengers' tower to check your lungs and maybe put you on a nebuliser to be safe as the wheeze was still lingering.
When the phone call ended pepper stood from her desk and walked over to the couch, gently she sat down beside you and nudged your shoulder. You groaned and rolled over trying to escape.
Stifling a giggle pepper placed her hand on your arm, frowning when she felt heat radiating off you. She paused and then lifted her hand to your face, laying the backside of her palm to your forehead and feeling for a fever.
Finding what she was looking for, pepper gently rubbed your arm again.
“Y/n? Honey, you have to get up. We’re going to the doctor sweetie.” She said softly and you whined and buried your face in the couch.
“Tired and don’t wanna move.” You mumbled into the cushions.
“You can lean on me the whole way to the car, alright?” Pepper said carding her hands through your hair.
“Okay.” You mumbled and blinked your eyes open to look at her. The haze of fever was settled in and the pink hue of your cheeks made you look both dazed and cute.
With peppers help you stand up and lean into her side. She had already called happy to bring the car around and he was going to meet you both out front.
With your bag slung over one shoulder and you curled into her other side, pepper slowly began the trek back to the lift. The board meeting had ended hours ago so it was just the two of you left on the whole floor.
After a slow and sleepy trip down to the car pepper got settled into the backseat with you so she could keep an eye on how you were fairing.
Your cheeks had darkened slightly, and she felt your forehead again as happy peeled out of the car park. Your fever had definitely risen, and she frowned as the glossy look in your eyes was increased ten-fold.
Part two coming soon :)
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jump-in-the-whump · 2 days
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"Can you tell me where it hurts the most?"
Whumpee tries to focus on Caretaker's face, their eyelids feeling heavy. They take a deep breath and shake their head slightly. "I… I don't know. Everywhere hurts…"
Caretaker nods, understanding their pain, and leans forward, their hand brushing against Whumpee's cheek gently. The cool touch of Caretaker's fingers against their hot skin sends a shiver down Whumpee's spine.
"I will do my best to ease your pain." Caretaker promises softly, and then they begin to hum a soothing melody, one that sounds like home, Whumpee thinks.
Whumpee listens intently to the melody, their eyes closing as they try to focus on the sound. They feel a strange warmth spreading through their body as the melody washes over them, soothing their pain.
"Th-thank you...." Whumpee whispers, their voice barely audible, before passing out completely.
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todays-xkcd · 3 months
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Hypothermia of below 98.6 K should be treated by leaving the giant molecular cloud and moving to the vicinity of a star.
Fever [Explained]
Transcript Under the Cut
Treating a Fever
Fever/Treatment 38°C-40°C (100°F-104°F): Fluids, rest, normal doctor stuff 40°C-45°C: Hospital, advanced doctor stuff 45°C-100°C: Exit that steam cloud immediately 100°C-400°C: Stop, drop, and roll 400°C-500°C: Return to Earth from Venus ASAP 500°C-1,500°C: Please climb out of that volcano 1,500°C-5,000°C: Turn your tunneling machine around and come back up to the surface 5,000°C-6,000°C: No, the surface of the Earth, not the Sun 6,000°C-50,000°C: Wait, that's not the Sun. What star are you visiting? Come back right now. 50,000°C-20,000,000°C: At least stay on the surface of the star instead of diving down to the core 20,000,000°C-10,000,000,000°C: You know, you could've picked a normal star instead of one that's exploding 10,000,000,000°C or higher: I hope you're enjoying your visit to the Big Bang but you should really come back home immediately
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zeragii · 11 months
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*evil chuckles*
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squintingcats · 7 months
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List of symptoms
I hate having whump fantasies that involve some vague fever that doesn’t have consistent symptoms to make it feel real. Here’s a handy list to flesh out the nature of your whumpee’s illness.
Let’s go:
Dizziness/faintness
Congestion
Sneezing
Coughing
Headache
Muscle aches
Joint aches
Cramping
Exhaustion/lethargy
Shivering
Wheezing/trouble breathing
Sore throat (trouble speaking and swallowing)
Sweating (leads to dehydration)
Flushed and/or pale skin
Delirium (delusions, nightmares, lack of filter, inability to regulate emotions, hallucinations, incoherent speech, confusion)
Nausea/vomiting
Abdominal pain (burning, stabbing, soreness)
Chest pain (burning, stabbing, soreness, tightness)
Pain/pressure behind the eyes
Feeling too hot or too cold
Weakness
Blurred vision
Weight loss (loss of appetite)
Rapid heartbeat
Abnormal breathing (rapid, shallow, panting)
Sensory sensitivity (light, sound, touch, smell, taste)
Tell me more……
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whump-kia · 6 months
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FEVERS. WHUMPEE BEING TOO OUT OF IT, THE UNCONTROLLABLE SHIVERING, HALLUCINATIONS, SWEATING, PALE SKIN, THE FEVER DREAMS, SKIN BEIN TOO SENSITIVE, WET CLOTHING/TOWEL(?) ON FOREHEAD.
JUST FEVERS.
FEVERS.
F E V E R S.
anon you're in for a doozy of a response because I LOVE this trope so much.
first of all--denial. "i'm fine". wearing too many layers in obliviousness or too little in an attempt to lower the temperature. dizzy spells leaving them with an elbow on the nearest support, shaking off the fatigue.
pair that with the forced acceptance--they stay zoned out for a minute too long, saying things that don't make sense, a paleness or flushed look just on the cheekbones and finally someone presses their forearm to the back of their neck and whispers, "you're burning up."
when they try to wait it out. leaning against doorframes, eyes closed, an unsteady breath. pacing to keep moving because if they stop for even a second they won't be able to stay standing. that hitch in the breath as it slowly gets worse until they're forced to go home and rest--or, better yet, collapse into the arms of a caretaker, mumbled apologies into their shoulder as they finally give in.
and finally the intensity of the caretaking--there's not much you can do with a low fever. body aches and constant shivering, muscle spasms and hot or cold flashes, lighter symptoms that develop into that weak moaning, heavy sheens of sweat, inability to get comfortable, so disoriented they can't open their eyes past the spinning of the room. when they're calling out for a loved one. when they shudder out that breathy "...sorry" to the caretaker. when they're forced into an ice bath and the sudden rush of pain leaving them crying out, even as the fever begins to recede.
FEVERS. anon you are so correct.
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warmasf · 3 months
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Thinking ab tiny, comforting, caretaking gestures
Caretaker gently touching whumpees thigh under the table, letting them know that their discomfort isn’t being ignored
Caretaker holding onto whumpees bicep, keeping them steady under the guise of a meaningless touch
Caretaker rubbing small circles on whumpees back as they cough or get sick, giving them a bit of comfort through the violence of their illness
Caretaker playing with whumpees sweaty hair, feeling their fever-warm skin and holding them close
Caretaker whispering small words of encouragement, little “shh”s and “it’s okay, it’s okay”s under their breath as whumpee cries, because they just don’t feel well
Whumpee collapsing into caretakers arms as they sob, because they’ve never felt this loved through such small actions
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anigst · 3 months
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The Yuzuki Family’s Four Sons - Ep 11
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snapcracklewhump · 5 months
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Favorite prompts for fever? 👀
Thanks for the ask! Fever is one of those whumps I enjoy on nearly every character. 
Delirium from a high fever. Whumpee is frightened and disoriented. The things they say don’t make any sense, but it doesn’t stop whumpee from trying to get others to understand. Or maybe they’re so weak that their distress can only be expressed in quiet murmurs or whimpers.
A whumpee who becomes emotional when they have a high fever. It messes with their head, and a whumpee who might normally be quiet or reserved suddenly cries at the drop of a hat. (Please have caretaker wipe away their feverish tears.)
Bone-deep chills that seem to shake whumpee to their very core. Nothing seems to warm them even though they’re already burning up. They’re shaking so much that they can hardly get a sentence out. 
Feverish confessions. Maybe with a fever, whumpee outright admits something they normally wouldn’t. 
Or maybe, they let slip a series of small admissions that caretaker puts together into a truth whumpee would never dare say aloud. 
Caretaker cradling whumpee to their chest, feeling them shiver despite the uncomfortable heat. 
The relief that floods over caretaker when whumpee’s fever finally breaks. They push the sweat-soaked hair off of whumpee’s forehead and finally they know that everything will be alright
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whispers-whump · 1 month
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love a good forehead fever check as much as the next gal but like we’re sleeping on so much fever checking potential here
overly warm hands, palms just beginning to sweat
a rapid pulse throbbing under glistening skin
feeling the warmth radiating off of whumpee through a thin t-shirt
even better, cool hands against the overheated skin of a bare, aching back
grabbing whumpee’s forearm and finding the unnatural heat there
a loved whumpee’s legs resting across caretaker’s lap, limbs hot on their thighs
the top of a head, hair damp and scalp burning when caretaker rests their chin on whumpee’s head
the back of a flushed neck, cupped tenderly in a hand
overheated thighs, maybe gripped through loose sweatpants or mostly bare because whumpee felt too hot for anything but shorts
squeezing a shoulder comfortingly and discovering the warmth there
feel free to add on!
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somber-sapphic · 3 months
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Cooking With A Cold
〖500 Follower Prompt: “Oh sweetheart, you’re worse than I thought” + “Sorry, I can’t stop sneezing” + 🏥〗
〖Summary: You hurt yourself while trying to cook a romantic meal for your girlfriend.〗
〖Word Count: 1.5k〗
〖Pairing: Natasha x Sick Reader〗
〖A/N: Hello! So, some of you may know there was a bit of a "situation" last week which threw me off a bit and I decide to postpone posting this. I know, it's been months, but I really needed to recompose and regroup which changed my plan. Sorry, I know this is a bit long but I hope you enjoy!〗
☾Masterlists☽ ☾500 Masterlist☽
Natasha had just gotten home from a long mission and when she had come into the kitchen you’d screeched at her to get out, not wanting to ruin the surprise. She’d left laughing and was currently sitting on the couch in preparation for what she didn't expect to be an incredibly fancy dinner. She knew that you hated to cook and assumed you’d just thrown a few frozen things in the oven and mac and cheese or something on the stove. 
Instead, you had taken it upon yourself to make her favorite dinner and a dessert to go with. Over the two weeks that she had been gone, you’d been watching cooking videos and practicing in your spare time. There was a lot of spare time. You had decided to make her a medium-rare steak with baked asparagus and sauteed mushrooms. Following that there was a cheesecake in the fridge that had come out much better than you’d expected.
When planning this fancy meal that you very much didn't know how to cook, you had been so excited. You were thrilled to get to spend real time with your girlfriend and you wanted her to tell you everything about the ocean and beach and blue skies. It hadn't been a particularly dangerous mission, and you were sure that she’d be happy to tell you all of the more fun details. 
So of course, your body had decided to throw something at you. Maybe it was the long nights spent awake wishing you weren't alone in your bed, maybe it was the fact that one of the Avengers (Clint) seemed intent on spending time with you even though he was clearly sick (it was probably the second one), but the cause didn't matter because you were sick. Sick sick. 
You didn't have a little sniffle that you could push through with a dose of cold medicine and a few tissues, you had a full-on everything hurts, whole body feels hot and cold, stuffy and runny nose, dizziness, chest cough that won't let up kind of cold. Or maybe the flu. You weren't sure, but that didn't particularly matter to you either. For now, all that mattered was you staying upright for long enough to finish this meal. 
Between breaks of sitting on the floor and about one million tissues, you’d managed to get down to the last stretches. The steak was done, and ready to be cut. The mushrooms were sitting on the stove covered by a pot lid to keep them warm. All that was left was the asparagus sitting in the oven and the timer for those had just gone off. 
You pulled yourself to your feet and stumbled slightly, the world shifting quickly around you as your center of gravity changed. It was all you could do not to grab the hot stovetop and stumble into the counter instead, hoping that you hadn't made too much noise. You may have felt awful, but you didn't need Natasha to know that. 
With your brain on autopilot, you stuck your hands into the oven and grabbed the metal pan with a bare hand. You were so out of it and ready to be finished cooking dinner that you hadn't realized you had forgotten the oven mitt until you felt white-hot pain shoot through your hand. 
You pulled back with a strangled gasp, catching the back of your hand on one of the oven racks as you did. Tears of pain clouded your vision momentarily and you clutched your hand to your chest, unsure what to do. The gasp led to a fit of coughing that left you doubled over and panicking. If you just kept standing there your dinner would burn, but you were pretty sure that your hand was useless. And the room was still spinning.
Now you’d have to get Natasha and she would be upset because not only had you ruined dinner, but she’d also need to take care of you. You stood there frozen, and to your utter horror, you began to cry. The frustration of it all was too much. All you’d wanted to do was make a nice hot dinner for your incredibly busy girlfriend and now you needed her help. 
“Hey Nat?” You called out in a watery voice, congestion seeping into your worlds. You sniffled and brought your tightly clenched hand up to wipe your nose on your sleeve, doing your best not to disturb the burn. A tiny part of your brain was telling you that you should probably be running it under cool water or at least stick it in the fridge, but it hadn't quite caught up to the part that was shutting down the pain. 
Natasha, bounced into the room, her smile lighting up her eyes falling as she saw the twisted expression on your face and the protective way you were holding your hand. You could feel your lower lip quivering and your nose might have been running again but you weren't sure, you were just humiliated. To be safe, you swiped your hand against your fist and sniffled. 
“Oh dorogory, what happened?” She asked, rushing over to wrap her arms around you. You laid your head against her shoulder and let out a whimper, wishing that you didn't have to admit to your failure out loud. This was all so humiliating. 
She pulled back for a moment and cupped your cheek, lips pursed, and eyebrows furrowed. She glanced back at the half-open oven, then at your hand, then back into your eyes and you watched her face go from pure terror for your safety to understanding concern. 
“Show me please?” Nat murmured, not wanting to force your hand open and risk hurting you more. You started to nod, but quickly wrenched away to sneeze into your elbow. One sneeze turned into four which turned into a bout of raspy coughing which made you glad you’d managed to turn in time. You didn't want to get her sick too. 
You extended your hand at the end of the fit, revealing the blistering burn across your palm. 
“Oh, Y/n, I could tell you were sick, but sweetheart, you’re worse than I thought!” She exclaimed, studying your burn intensely as she flicked her eyes up to your mess of a face. You wrinkled your nose and sniffled again, blinking rapidly at her. Black dots had appeared in the corners of your vision in these last few seconds, and you were beginning to wonder how much longer you’d be able to stand up. 
“Shit, okay. Let's get you sitting.” You didn't have to say a word, Natasha was right there wrapping her arm around your waist and leading you to the living room. She even managed to turn the oven off as she practically carried you out and set you down on the sofa. 
You leaned against the arm of the couch and rested your head on the cushion, another low rumbling cough echoing through your chest. It hurt to breathe, and you could hear a slight wheeze that might be more audible to those with less clogged ears. 
“Okay. This hand really doesn't look great baby and I don't like the sound of your breathing. You’re going to hate this, but there’s an Urgent Care a few minutes away and I think we need to go. They might be able to get you something for the pain and something to open up those lungs, okay?” She didn't bother to sugarcoat (much) and her tone made it clear that she wasn't asking. Whether you wanted to or not, you had earned yourself a trip to Urgent Care. 
Instead of answering you sneezed again, barely able to direct the sneezes to your lap rather than in her direction. You knew it was gross, but you couldn't seem to make your limbs cooperate the way you wanted them to. Lifting a pinky felt like lifting a thousand tons. 
“M’sorry. I can’t stop sneezing.” You mumbled, hoping those words were enough to convey just how sorry you were, not just for the sneezing but for everything. Natasha kissed the top of your head and pressed a tissue to your nose, guiding your uninjured hand to hold it there.��
“No apologies my love, just sit tight. I’ll get your shoes and your favorite blanket then we’ll head out, okay?” She soothed, running your fingers through your hair as she talked.
Her voice was the sound of summer rain on a warm night, slow rolling waves on a white sand beach, and birds chirping in a lush green forest. It was every comforting thing anyone could think of plus ten more. She was all that. She never failed to make you feel safe, loved, accepted, and, most importantly, worthy of feeling all of those good things. 
You nodded wearily and let yourself melt against the couch as she moved around you, turning off lights and gathering whatever she thought that you would need. You were dreading whatever might happen at Urgent Care, but if she was there you knew that it would be okay. She’d make sure that it was all okay. And when you felt better, you’d make her that damn dinner. 
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syncopein3d · 8 months
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Someone passing out from fever or sickness, but in a fictional way where you can rush to pick them up and wrap them in a blanket on your couch, not where you call EMS and worry that they might have cracked their head on a sidewalk. Their eyes actually close, unlike in real life where people sometimes faint with their eyes partly or entirely open.
Someone being drugged, but in a fictional way where they glaze over and then gracefully faint, but continue breathing, instead of the real world way, where we have to have a respirator during surgery because substances that produce sustained unconsciousness also tend to paralyze breathing. I like sci fi settings where I can make up drugs for this reason, I know too much about anesthesia.
Someone being put to sleep with magic, which requires no qualifier because it never has medical health risks. I like fantasy settings because of this, too.
Someone passing out from being choked with someone's thighs or arm, but in a fictional way where they stay out without the risk of brain damage or death and they don't lose bowel or bladder control.
The comical clonk on the head is just ruined for me entirely unless it's an overt cartoon, because concussions are scary and subdural hematoma is even scarier.
As a writer I want to do research. As a whump fetishist I have learned that once I have done research, sometimes I harm my own suspension of disbelief. Oops.
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jump-in-the-whump · 7 months
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the weary feverish whumpee aesthetic™
I love it when a whumpee is so weak that they:
are bedridden, much to their discomfort. They long to leave the bed, but cannot because they are too weak, and their legs shake at the thought of taking even a single step.
can't keep their eyes open. Their eyelids flutter but due to tiredness and too much light, they always close again. However, the whumpee has learned to rely on other senses, and is able to recognize the caretaker's voice or touch among a thousand others.
have to always lie down. They try to sit up, perhaps to eat something, but after a few minutes their head starts spinning and their body starts screaming because of the effort. Much to their chagrin, they have to force themselves back down or else they will likely pass out.
are not hungry. Their body can't handle even plain broth, making them queasy and dizzy. So they continue to refuse food, their only source of livelihood, and this obviously worsens their condition.
are too sensitive to touch. Their skin that seems to boil with fever, the bedsheets that rub down their limbs like sandpaper, the hair that sticks to their sweaty forehead, even the simple touch of the caretaker, a touch that is supposed to comfort them, is too much. They start to hate all these little things.
Please, feel free to add more.
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sickiehugs · 7 months
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The most cold, blunt, reserved, imperious characters going completely soft when their cinnamon roll partner gets sick >>>>
Cuddles, pet names, spoiling them to heaven and back. Absolutely no regard for pride, all they're focused on is making sure their poor, sick little sweetheart doesn't have to lift a finger until they're fully recovered.
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dreampencil · 6 months
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Suptober Day 14. Fever.
Dean's fever is raging after being attacked on a hunt – he doesn't seem bothered though...💚💙
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squintingcats · 8 months
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“I’m sorry. I have to do this, okay?”
Said by Caretaker before:
Lowering Whumpee into a cold bath for their dangerously high fever
Lowering Whumpee into a lukewarm bath for their dangerously severe hypothermia (it feels boiling to them)
Doing stitches, cleaning and dressing a wound, etc.
Cauterization
Forcing them to eat/drink something after an extended period of illness and/or starvation
Resetting a broken bone
Field surgery
Dragging their ass to an actual hospital
Dragging their ass to an actual therapist
Restraining them during a violent (as in, physically harmful) flashback or nightmare
Inducing vomiting when the Whumpee clearly needs to, but can’t
Uncomfortable medicine (bad-tasting, syringes, aerosolized medicine through a weird mask, etc.)
Moving a Whumpee who’s in a particularly bad state
Tell me more.
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