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#marvel sickfic
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!〗
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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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goldenempyrean · 4 months
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Back To Bed With You
« Day 10: “Honey, you’re supposed to be in bed." »
« Pairing: Lizzie Olsen x Reader »
« Notes: lil' bit late oops, I had to wait till I finished work to make the post :P »
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"Alright. Cut. Take 5 while we set up the next scene, I want makeup touch-ups done on everyone in the next shot please!" The voice of your director dismissed you from the current scene as people began rushing around to set up everything for the next.  
"Lizzie?" You tilted your head in surprise at the sight of your wife leaning up against some equipment behind the main camera. On any normal day you wouldn't have thought anything of it. But she'd woken up sick this morning with little to no voice left, and it'd taken you almost half an hour to convince her to go back to bed and take the day off. Yet here she was. Standing just off set... in her pyjamas. “Honey you’re supposed to be in bed. What are you doing here?”  
She only shivered in response and goosebumps ran up her exposed arms as she pulled them round herself. “Oh, come here sweetheart,” You shook your head, taking off the jumper you’d been wearing and pulled it over her pink pyjama shirt. It was slightly baggy but on her, but it was better than that thin fabric that seemed to be doing little to keep her warm, “That better?” 
She nodded before clearing her throat, "I missed you," Lizzie whispered hoarsely, her voice barely audible. "And I wanted to see your scenes. You always watch mine.” She sniffled before muffling a cough against the collar of her borrowed jumper, making you raise an eyebrow slightly knowing you had to wear that later. 
You cupped her flushed face in your hands, giving her a gentle kiss on the forehead. "You're the sweetest really, you are, but I don't want you getting any sicker. Your voice sounds awful darling. So how about this? You stay right here, I'll finish up this next scene and then I’ll walk you back to our trailer and get you settled back down, okay? How does that sound?”  Lizzie gave a weak smile, appreciating the warmth of your jumper and the concern in your eyes. "Okay," she agreed in a raspy whisper, her hand finding yours as you began to lead her over towards where one of the runners had plugged a small portable heater into an extension cord. 
“You just concentrate on getting warm, okay?” You murmured, kissing her hand, “I’ve gotta sort out my makeup. The scene’s only short but if you really don’t feel well, just head back without me. I’ll catch you up.” 
With that you turned to quickly run over to makeup to get touched up before making it back down in front of the camera. The scene went well. Everyone had delivered their lines well and you’d only needed to do a couple to retakes to get the perfect shot. 
As the director called for a wrap on the scene, you wasted no time in heading back over to where you had left Lizzie. She looked a little more tired now but at least the heater had been doing its job and had kept her warm as she watched. 
“Alright, you, we had an agreement, didn’t we?” You smiled, knowing it was time for her to go back to bed. Your wife pouted but nodded in agreement and with a bit of effort, you helped her to her feet, wrapping your arm around her for support as you walked back to your trailer 
"You're a terrible patient," You teased once you’d gotten inside, still holding her hand as you led her back to bed, a bundle of blankets that she more than willingly climbed back into. 
Lizzie grinned weakly as you leant down to press a soft kiss to her warm cheek once she’d gotten settled, "But still the best wife, right?" 
"Absolutely.” You chucked as you pulled the blanket up to her chin, “Now rest, my love and I'll be back as soon as I can." 
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lots-of-pockets · 1 year
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Everything’s gonna be okay (part 2)
Pairing: Scarlett x you
Words: 1429
Warnings: some swearing I think
Summary: after Scarlett’s sickness, you both sit down and talk about your relationship status.
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Three days pass before Scarlett had finally begun to get over her cold. You'd taken care of the entire time, just as you had promised, and other than the sniffles and the occasional itch in the back of her throat, she was somewhat back to her normal self.
You say somewhat, because despite the fact she was feeling better, she still wasn't quite acting like the Scarlett you knew. That reason was pretty self explanatory considering the circumstances, but you couldn't quite find it in yourself to call her out on it because that would be pretty hypocritical of you.
You were treading almost cautious circles around one another, neither one of you wanting to be the one to bring it up first. You knew you'd said you would, but it was easier said than done.
Scarlett was curled up on the couch, bundled up in a thick blanket whilst she watches whatever movie was on the tv. You had taken residence on the opposite side, your phone in your hand as you scroll aimlessly through your social media. It was obvious that neither one of you could find the words you wanted to say, and were using your chosen distractions as a suit of armour.
Your eyes, however, would often flicker over to her, just to be sure she was doing okay. And you would sometimes feel her eyes on you too, telling you your silent implication was reciprocated and that she was feeling the awkwardness too.
It was only as the movie finishes and a commercial begins do you finally find it in you to talk.
"Why'd you do it?" You murmur, locking your phone and setting it down onto your thigh. You hated how meek your voice sounded. It was almost as though you feared her yelling at you all over again.
Scarlett looks over to you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. It takes only moments for her facial expression to change into one of understanding, and you watch as she hesitates for only a second before sitting herself up and muting the tv, shifting her body around to face you and letting out a quiet sigh.
"I..." she swallows away the tightness in her throat as her hands absentmindedly twist a loose thread of the blanket around her finger. "I was angry." She could barely bring herself to look at you.
You nod, knowing this. You hadn't been able to forget the look of pure hatred on her face as she'd told you to get the fuck out. It was permanently engraved in your brain, and you were sure it would be for the rest of your life.
On that day, Scarlett had been in a bad mood from the second she'd woken up. You didn't know why, and no matter how many times you'd asked, she'd adamantly refused to tell you. It had left you walking on thin ice around her, keeping to yourself and not saying a word in fear you'd say something to make her snap.
Things weren't exactly picture perfect before this day though. For a month prior, her busy schedule had left you little to no time with each other. You went days without seeing her face, kissing her, touching her, and you guess that was the cherry on the cake that made you reach your breaking point.
"Why?" You ask, unsure eyes flickering up to meet her own. "Why'd you get so...mad at me?" You try to keep your voice as unaccusing as possible.
Scarlett bites her bottom lip softly as she lets out a heavy breath through her nose. "I wasn't mad at you," she shakes her head. It was almost as though she was trying to convince herself her as much as she was trying to convince you.
“I was never mad at you. I was mad at everything else. My job. My lack of schedule and personal life. I was mad at the world and I just needed someone to blame. You were just...there, in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was a shitty thing to do and I regretted it the second it happened. I'm so, so sorry."
You stare at her for a second before letting out a quiet sigh, your eyes flickering down to your lap. You didn't know what to say. You weren’t mad at her, at least not anymore. You’d forgiven her almost the second it had happened because deep down you knew she hadn’t meant it. She’d just been stressed and overwhelmed and you’d been the closest target.
"I went out in the rain, after you," she continues unsurely when you don't say anything. The trembling voice, however, does not go amiss, and you feel the tears swimming in your own eyes.  "I looked for you, for over an hour, but you were gone. I called too, but..."
"...but I didn't answer." You finish for her, and Scarlett lets out a quiet breath as she nods her head.
"Yeah." She murmurs hoarsely as she sniffles and clears her throat. "I'm so, so, sorry Y/n."
You knowingly nod your head. It takes you a few seconds for you to find your words.
"What we had together in those last few weeks was not at all healthy,” you start, trying your best to ignore the way you see Scarlett's bottom lip beginning to quiver in your peripheral vision. You hated seeing her upset, especially when it was you who had caused it.
"You took all of your frustrations out on me, even when it wasn't my fault and I tolerated that for a while because I knew you were upset and I didn't want to add to that. But what you should have done is talk to me, or ask me to give you space. I would gladly have done so without hesitation. We were partners, Scarlett, but you didn’t treat me like one.”
A single tear streams down her cheek, and as she wipes it away, more fall in its place, "I know. I'm sorry."
"I don't want you to cry," you murmur, scooting closer and cupping her cheek with your hand. You tenderly wipe away the tears with the pad of your thumb, "and I don't want you to be sorry. You've apologised before, and I forgave you. I just wanted to know why."
Scarlett nods as another tear steams down her cheeks. You press a soft kiss to her hairline before wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. Her body was warm against your own, and you hear yer let out a soft sniffle as her head comes to rest on your chest just beneath your chin. You cup the back your your head, the pad of your thumb grazing over the shell of her ear as her own hand tightly clutches the material or your shirt.
"In the future," you start as you lay your cheek against the top of her head, "in the future, you need to communicate with me. You need to tell me what's going on when you’re upset because I can't read your mind."
"Does that mean..." she tightens her arms around your midsection, and you nod as you press your lips against the top of her head. Before the break up, your relationship had pretty much been picture perfect. You rarely argued, communication was healthy and though you didn't get a lot of time together, it meant the time you did get was both cherished and special.
It was only in the last few weeks did that change, so you didn't see why you couldn't try again. You didn't want to waste the two amazing years together over an argument that could very much have been prevented.
That would be a stupid move on your part.
Scarlett buries her face into your neck, the tip of her nose cold against your skin. You instinctively tighten your grasp around her body, hand slipping beneath her shirt to rest against the bare skin of her back.
"I love you," you hear her murmur, and you smile tenderly. You didn't think you'd ever hear those words again.
"I love you."
**
Thank you guys so much for reading! ✨
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katebishopsbaefy · 6 months
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Soup and Sniffles
pairing: natasha romanoff x reader (can be read as platonic or romantic)
summary: you're sick and dont want natasha to find out. she finds out, fluff esues.
word count: 961
notes: hey everyone this is the first fic im posting pls no hate 😄😘
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You practically fall through your open window onto the floor of your bedroom, knees almost buckling underneath you. You’re able to catch yourself in just enough time to stop your face from slamming into the ground. The impact from your sort of fall is still loud, though, and you pray Natasha couldn’t hear it.
You realized you were sick two days ago, but only today had you really started to feel the full effects of your illness. School was a nightmare with a stuffy nose and constant headache, and with no time in between classes and patrol, you were absolutely miserable. But, not wanting to worry Natasha or risk being labeled as “useless”, you kept it to yourself and stuck it out. One fight in particular left you stumbling and sneezing, the guy’s ice powers making you feel even more sick. You’d managed to make your way to your shared apartment with Natasha. You couldn’t wait to take a much needed nap.
A knock on the door makes you jump up from your spot on the floor, which you happened to be very comfortable in. Natasha’s voice is muffled by the door.
“Y/N? What the hell was that?” she asks. Shit.
You panic. Clear your throat as quietly as you can, hoping to sound much less congested than you are. “Nothing! I’m ok, I swear.”
“I’m coming in,” she states, and she’s next to you before you can even begin to protest. She notices the carpet moved out of place under your feet and smirks. “Did you fall through the window?” 
“Maybe,” you reply. She quirks an eyebrow at you. “Rough ni-” you start, but a cough racks through your body and you’re forced to double over. You recover as quickly as possible, shooting back up with a sniffle and a smile. “Rough night,” you finish. You break eye contact with her once you see the concern laced in her green eyes. 
“I can tell. Did you get hit?” she asks, looking up and down your body looking for an injury that could be the source of your cough. She takes your face into her hands and studies the cuts littering it until your own hands push hers away.
“No, I’m fine. Well, I did get hit, but I’m fine. No problem.” You smile at her. It doesn’t reach your eyes.
The back of Natasha’s hand finds your forehead before you can react. Your mind tells you to pull away, but your body leans into the contact in search of comfort. She frowns as you sniff again. “You’re sick.”
“No I’m not,” you argue, finally finding the strength to pull her hand away from you. It drops to her side and her eyes search yours.
“Yes, you are. How long have you been sick for?”
“I haven’t been sick because I’m not sick.”
“Then why do you sound so gross?”
“I’m not gross.”
“You’re pretty gross.”
“I’m not sick, Nat! Jesus,” you swipe your hand under your nose and sniffle miserably. Her fingers find your face once more and she turns your chin to look at her, thumb swiping away a tear you didn’t know had fallen. Natasha looks at you, really looks at you. You’re shivering under her touch, just slightly, but enough for her to notice. Your eyes are sunken and red, as well as the tip of your nose and your cheeks. She looks back into your eyes.
“What’s wrong?” she asks softly, barely above a whisper. 
Tears fill your eyes and you let them. “I don’t feel good,” you tell her, and the wall breaks. She pulls you into her and kisses the top of your head. You're very aware of the grossness you're getting on her shirt, but she doesn’t care. 
“I got you,” she whispers over and over into your hair, rubbing circles on your back as you sob. Eventually your legs simply give out, but she’s there to hold you up. Drags you over to your bed and pulls away, forcing you to look at her. She hands you a tissue to blow your nose into.
“Gross,” she comments. You giggle tearily and she smiles at you. “I’ll make you soup if you wanna go shower.”
“Mkay. C’n you do tha’ thing where you put m’ clothes in the dryer so they’re all warm?” you look up at her with the best puppy eyes you can muster. This time she giggles at you.
“I guess so. Try not to take twelve hours in the shower, I want hot water too.”
You know she really wouldn’t care if you took forever, as long as it made you feel better.
You jump in the shower, and when you’re out (45 minutes later), there’s fresh clothes sitting on the toilet for you, plus a fluffy towel. You throw on the clothes and ring out your hair, walking towards the kitchen to the smell of soup. 
Natasha watches you and shoots you a small smile. “Better?” she asks.
“Yeah. Less gross,” you reply honestly. Your nose is a lot less congested and your shivering stopped for the most part. You plop yourself down in your spot on the couch and Liho, Nat’s cat, jumps up with you. You pull her into your arms and lay down on a pillow given to you by some distant relative, paying little attention to the sitcom running on the tv.
Nat turns to bring you a bowl of soup, but sees you passed out on the couch, snoring quietly. She walks over and grabs your favorite blanket from over the top of the couch, draping it over you and kissing your forehead. Notices you’re a lot less warm than before, smiles down at you. The soup could wait for later.
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Travel Troubles.
Prompt: Sick in an Inconvenient Place
Pairings: Wandanat x R
Word count: 1.1K
Summary: Sickness doesn’t care where you are. You get sick but your girls are there for you.
TW: vomiting
A/n I suck at grammar. So there are like three commas in this lol. Plus I typed it with one hand because I’ve hurt my other arm :(
Wanda had been begging you and nat for months now and you had finally caved. You were going to the beach for a few days. You were actually pretty excited to be spending some quality time with your girls so when you woke up the morning you were suppose to be leaving feeling like you had been punched in the stomach you groaned and shrugged it off. Luckily most of the day was going to be spent in the car.
Dismissing it as your usual cramps after your period you stuffed your duffle-bag into the car, opting for the backseat so you could starfish across the leather seats. All seemed well for the first two hours, the car seemed to be getting hotter though. And the pain in your stomach began to increase. Nausea set in around hour five. Curled up in the backseat in a ball Wanda shot nat a look.
<shes acting weird nat do you think shes ok?> she asked in Nat’s mind.
<if she needs us she well tell us>
<we both know that’s not true> Wanda shot back
You were in too much pain to notice the silent conversation. Your face pressed against the cool glass of the window. It was way too hot in the car.
“y/n/n what do you want for lunch, Natty’s getting us maccas.” When all she received was a groan she frowned. Being stopped at a red light Wanda unbuckled climbing into the backseat despite Natasha’s protests.
“y/n/n?” she asked running a hand through your sweaty hair. She frowned placing the back of her hand to your forehead. She gasped. “natty shes on fire” you whined when she pulled her cold hand away from your flaming skin.
“oh bug why didn’t you tell us you didn’t feel good sweets?” muttering something unintelligent you flopped against her. Chuckling slightly she pulled you closer.
“natty can you get her an ice water from maccas?”
“sure.”
Pulling into the drive through the nausea only worsened at the smell of greasy food. Wanda noticed the colour drain from your face. Rushing she seemingly pulled a sick bag from thin air with her magic, guiding it under your shaking chin as your breakfast reappeared. Nat tried not to frown at the gagging noises coming from the backseat as she ordered for the three of you. Asking Wanda if you were ok when she had finished ordering.
“I’m not sure natty shes a bit too warm for my liking and joined with the vomiting I don’t want her to get dehydrated. Did you order the water?”
“yes. We’ll keep an eye on her temp, I can stop of at the chemist for a fever reducer and thermometer if you like?” Wanda nodded her agreement chewing on her lip as she brushed back your hair as you laid against her thigh in a fever induced haze. She had used her magic to rid the bag of sick and had a fresh one on hand if you needed it again.
After a quick stop, nat returned with the goods and Wanda fed you the tablets passing the water to you and holding the straw to your lips. Your eyes were glazed and your body ached.
“oh sweetheart. You really don’t feel good do you love?” nat asked looking at your shaking body. You whined like a child in response too tired to form proper words. Wanda tapped your cheek, using her thumb to tilt down your chin and open your mouth. She slipped the thermometer inside and waited for it to beep. When it did she removed it guiding your head back to her lap before looking at the number. Wanda hummed her disapproval upon seeing the flashing screen.
“what is it love?”
“102.8 too high for our sweet angel hmmm” she ran her hands through your hair again, rubbing your back to help you rest.
“that doesn’t sound good baby.”
With about a half hour to go, your eyes flew open, Wanda startled by your sudden movement pulled you upright, shoving the bag under your chin just in time as what small lunch you had spilled down you chin. With a choked sob, you continued to throw up. “shhh baby your ok. Your ok” Wanda cooed, still holding the bag. When you stopped Wanda waved her hand replacing the bag with her magic and guiding you back to her lap where you fell back into a fitful sleepy fever induced haze. Wanda took your temperature again slightly happier with the number but it hadn’t lowered by much. It would be a matter of a cold shower when they reached the cabin. You were silent the rest of the trip there save for fevered mutterings and the occasional groan. When you finally pulled in, Wanda peeled you off her lap. Passing you to nat who held you bridal style as Wanda climbed out and unlocked the door. Heading straight for the shower you were stripped of your clothes whining at the ice cold air on your fevered and flushed skin. Wanda guided you to the shower practically holding you up as the water ran over you. Despite your struggling she didn’t once let go as she held you and nat washed your body clean of the sweat that had soaked your clothes.
“shh love its ok” she cooed stroking back your damp hair from your face
After the shower from hell, as you called it, nat and Wanda dressed you in fluffy
PJs before carrying you to the bed and putting the sick bag on the bedside table. Your girls snuggled up with you.
“what about the car. We need to unpack” you yawned.
“don’t worry your pretty little head about it love your far more important.”
“plus I can use my magic to unpack it from here love” Wanda stated.
“okay” you sighed curling into Nat’s shoulder as Wanda wrapper her arms around you.
“goodnight sweetheart.” Nat cooed, stroking your hair back.
“night wands. night Tasha. Love you guys.”
“good night love. We love you too. Now sleep baby.”
Masterlist
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Text
Middle of the Night
cw: vomit
—————
It’s 2:17 in the morning when Peter wakes up with violent urgency, stumbling to the toilet in near-complete darkness. He’s not even entirely awake when he starts to vomit, his whole body trembling and coated in sweat. The nausea is so bad that he has to brace himself against the sink beside him to avoid braining himself on the back of the toilet every time he heaves.
Eventually, his legs can’t support him anymore, and he sprawls out on the cold tile floor, panting. He starts to gain awareness as he lies there, and he begins to reflect on how much actually just fucking came out of him. His stomach roars underneath his sweaty palm, giving him a heads up that there’s somehow more where that came from.
It takes almost all of his energy to sit up and hang his head over the water where he lets the spit just fall from his mouth. He guesses it was adrenaline that made him be able to run to the bathroom, because he’d never be able to do that right now. So, he sits there, feeling his dinner coil back up from wherever it thought it was going.
When it re-fills his stomach, the nausea washes over him again, and he can feel his face go grey. With a soft whimper, he wraps his arms around his middle and prepares for another go. Right on cue, his stomach lurches, sending another wave of partially digested seafood splashing into the murky water below.
The pressure makes him feel like he has to burp, so he tries, but he ends up violently puking instead. Go figure.
He hears an awful splattering noise that indicates he failed to aim in the darkness, and the heat of embarrassment claws up from his chest to his neck and flushed cheeks.
He lets his stomach rid itself of everything it needs to, only opening his mouth in the general direction of the toilet and just letting the puke spill out. It’s not his finest moment, he’ll admit, but he doesn’t feel good enough to care right now. On the other hand, he really hopes FRIDAY doesn’t snitch on him. He doesn’t necessarily want Tony to find him in his underwear, throwing up all the expensive food he’d just bought for him not even seven hours ago.
When his stomach feels relatively okay, he wipes his mouth and flushes the toilet. He struggles to stand more than he’s willing to admit, but when he’s braced against the sink once more, he blindly reaches over to turn on the light and brave the damage from earlier.
He winces at the sudden onslaught of light, and when his eyes finally adjust, he freezes completely.
Because what the actual hell.
Not only is there some vomit on the seat and each side of the floor beside the toilet, but also all over the wall behind it and on the porcelain lid he’d frantically flipped up in his adrenaline-fueled panic.
The sight is enough to make him suddenly retch over the sink, thankfully only bringing up a few pathetic splashes of stomach acid and bile. His arms shake where he’s holding himself up, and when he glances in the mirror, he hardly recognizes himself.
He knows that if he looks over at the toilet again, he’ll start the cycle anew, so he actually gives up. He hopes Tony will forgive him for just going back to bed, because that’s what he’s doing. Needs to do, really. He’s getting lightheaded, and if he passes out, FRIDAY really will snitch.
He drags himself back to bed, shivering even under two thick blankets. With his last strand of consciousness, he turns off his alarm for school in the morning. At the very least, he’ll miss his first class cleaning his bathroom, anyway.
Not even a second later, he’s out cold. He doesn’t so much as stir until hours later when he wakes to the sound of someone’s distant voice. He groans, pressing his face against the mattress beneath him. The voice grows more insistent, echoing. He’s vaguely aware of the fact that his stomach feels like it’s rotting, but he can’t quite do anything about it yet.
Finally, the voice reaches his ears at a somewhat normal volume, and the rude reality of consciousness envelops him. The memories of last night all flood in, making him cringe and feel sort of like throwing up right where he’s lying.
“Peter,” the voice says again. Peter now knows it’s Tony. He hums, drawn out and tortured, letting Tony know he heard him. “C’mon, Pete, what are you doing? You were supposed to be up an hour ago.” He steps further into the room.
“Mm...turned off m’alarm,” he rasps, throat still raw from his lovely encounter with the toilet.
“Why? And God, kid, what died in here?” Tony suddenly asks, probably looking around for a forgotten pizza box or something similar. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“I did,” he mumbles, face still buried in his sheets.
“Huh?”
“The smell s’my bathroom,” he admits, feeling much too shitty to be mortified like he knows he’ll be later. “I wouldn’t go n’there, though, I kinda threw up all over the place.”
“What?”
“Yeah. M’about to clean it, don’ worry,” he announces, honestly feeling more like he’s just going to add to the mess.
“Like hell you are, kid. Stay put,” Tony says, disregarding Peter’s warning and swinging the cracked bathroom door open wider. He flicks on the light and lets out a string of curses under his breath.
He then closes the door abruptly, turning back to Peter, who hasn’t moved an inch. In all honesty, he feels like he might hurl if he does.
“That was—okay, wow.”
“Told you not to look.”
“Peter, that is so not the point right now,” Tony replies, walking over and perching on the edge of Peter’s bed. “Why didn’t you get FRI to tell me you were sick?”
Peter groans a bit at the mention of his condition. “Dunno.”
“It’s like you’re begging me to re-install the baby monitor protocol.”
“I really jus’ wanted to sleep. Didn’t feel good. M’sorry.”
Tony sighs, reaching out to brush the curls back from Peter’s forehead. “You don’t actually owe me an apology, kid. It just makes me worried that you were alone and that sick.”
Peter wants to reply and have an emotionally intelligent conversation, but he’s starting to get that tight feeling in the back of his throat again. Nausea stirs in the pit of his belly. He’s not sure if he has anything left to throw up, but he doesn’t want to take that chance.
“Um. Tony,” he strains. “I feel...” He can’t say the actual words or it’ll push him over the edge. Might be too late, anyway.
Tony thankfully gets the message and doesn’t waste any time. He swipes the trash can from beside Peter’s desk and has it under Peter’s chin in record time. It’s a good thing, too, because Peter was right. As soon as he moved a single muscle, his stomach took that as an open invitation.
Despite the horrendous amount of stomach contents that he’d already vacated in the middle of the night, he’s throwing up again. Only this time, it’s not so easy. Rather than being able to let the sickness run it’s course and pump him empty, he’s choking, and hiccuping, and tearing his throat up with every go.
“Jeez, kid.”
Peter wants to say I know, or maybe please just kill me, but all that comes out is more burning hot puke. He feels Tony start to rub a calloused hand between his shoulder blades, and he has to admit to himself that he wishes he had this earlier today. Maybe he does want the stupid protocol back.
Or maybe he’s just sensitive from being so sick. All he really knows is that he feels miserable, and he’s glad Tony came to check on him. There would probably be another mess to deal with if he hadn’t.
After a few more unsatisfying heaves, he stares blankly at the pool sitting in the bottom of the bin and tries to catch his breath. Tony gets up from the bed, and Peter feels a sudden, childlike urge to cry out for him. His future self will probably be grateful that he doesn’t have the energy to do so.
Tony comes back, anyway. He has a handful of toilet paper, and when he sits back down, he actually wipes the sick from Peter’s mouth. It’s parental, and Peter’s so gross, but Tony doesn’t seem to care. Peter must have a fever, because he’s about to cry over it.
The tears overflow despite his efforts to blink them away, and suddenly the bin disappears from his lap.
“You’re okay, Pete,” Tony soothes, collecting Peter’s still trembling body and holding him close to his chest. His hand curves gently up and down Peter’s spine.
“M’really sorry about th’ bathroom,” Peter murmurs, finally feeling the extent of his embarrassment.
“You don’t owe me an apology, kid. Anyone who’s sick enough to do that kind of damage gets a free pass.” Peter groans, feeling a bit sorry for himself. He can’t help it. Something about the way Mr. Stark is treating him makes him realize he should’ve gotten help.
“I think it was the sushi,” he murmurs. “Tasted a little funny.”
“Yeah, well, next time seafood tastes a little funny, maybe don’t proceed to eat twice your body weight in raw salmon.”
Peter groans. “I don’t think I’ll eat anything ever again.”
Tony breathes out a quiet laugh. They stay like that for a few minutes, listening to the birds outside Peter’s window. He’s glad he decided not to tough it out and go to school. A cramp reaffirms his thoughts.
“My stomach hurts,” he moans, pulling back to wrap his arms around his middle.
“I bet it does. You want some Pepto?”
He shakes his head. “I’d throw it up. I always do.” It’s true. Almost every time he’s ever taken Pepto, it ends up spewing back out of him almost immediately.
“Okay, maybe some Sprite? We gotta get some liquids back in you, kiddo.”
Peter thinks for a second and then nods, letting himself curl back into bed. Tony pats his knee through the blanket and stands up.
“Good. I’ll be right back.” He crosses the room, stopping at the door. “Anything else you want me to get while I’m down there?”
“Um. Maybe another trash bag? This one is making me nauseous.”
“I’m right there with ya, pal. Give me like, two minutes. Hang tight.”
Peter just hugs his stomach and groans, drowning in his misery. He wonders if it’s actually this bad or if he’s gotten dramatic, but for his ego’s sake, he’s probably dying. He can barely lift his head when Tony finally comes back.
He greets Tony with a whimper. A literal whimper. He’s going to hate himself later, but for now, he just wants Tony to wave some magic wand and give him a new stomach.
“I know, kid. Go ahead and sit up for me.”
Peter regrets ever sinking back against his pillow, because now sitting up sounds like the single most unachievable thing in the world.
“If I move, I’ll barf,” he replies, only half joking.
“Then we’ll ride it out and try the Sprite when you’re done.”
Peter groans, knowing he’s never going to win this battle. He begins to lift his head and eventually his torso, feeling the ache of his stomach muscles from overuse. The motion makes him very dizzy, probably from dehydration if he’s honest.
He holds up his hand, blocking Tony from bringing the glass to his lips.
“C’mon, don’t fight me, Pete,” Tony says, almost pleading.
Peter shakes his head barely. “One second...tryin’ not to puke.”
“Ah. Got it.”
Blessedly, Tony doesn’t push the glass on him again. He sits there swallowing convulsively for a minute before he can even open his eyes. When he does, he can’t help but look at Tony with open misery.
“I know you don’t feel good, kiddo, I’m sorry,” he says, seemingly reading Peter’s mind. They’ve gotten to that point apparently. He places a steady hand between Peter’s shoulder blades and rubs in a circle. “I really think you’ll feel better if you sip on this. Just try for me, Pete.”
Peter eyes the bubbling liquid and tries not to feel entirely disgusted. In a moment of pure bravery, he reaches for the cup and takes three whole sips. It’s cooling against his raw throat, and he’s grateful to get the taste of bile out of his mouth at least a little.
“That’s it, you’re doing good. You can take a break if you want to.”
So, he does. He sets the cup down on his nightstand and lays back down while Tony replaces the bin liner for him. His head swims a little as if he’s drunk, and he gets the sinking feeling that his Sprite victory won’t last too long.
“Mm...Tony,” he mumbles, snaking a hand under his t-shirt and trying to magically settle his stomach through touch.
“Yeah?”
“Can you turn on the TV? I really need to think about something other than my stomach for, like, two seconds.”
Tony gives him a sympathetic smile, grabbing the remote and turning on The Office. He uses his foot to scoot the trash can back to where it was and sets the remote back down. Peter starts to feel himself drifting off already.
“I’ll get out of your hair. Please actually tell FRIDAY if you need me, okay? I’m gonna check in every now and then anyway.” Peter nods, curling into himself. “Alright, I’m gonna go call Midtown, tell them you’re not feeling so hot.” Peter just nods again, blinks getting longer and longer.
The voices on the TV get jumbled and muted as he’s pulled into a state of half-consciousness fueled by fever. His dreams are far-off and confusing, often nightmarish and gory. When he wakes with a start, he wonders if it was a nightmare or a memory. Sometimes he worries that patrol has doomed him to a lifetime of night terrors.
It takes him several minutes to come to and make sense of the noises in his room. He eventually fumbles for the remote and turns off Netflix, flopping back down onto his mattress.
He’s coated in sweat, battling the swirling in his stomach yet again. He has no idea how much time has passed. It’s unsettling, and he finds himself really wanting company. His mouth is also bone try, so he grabs the Sprite with a trembling hand before speaking.
“Hey, FRI?” he rasps.
“Yes, Mr. Parker?”
“Can you, um. Get Tony?”
“Alerting Boss. Would you like me to deliver a message?”
Peter shivers at the condensation from the glass running down his forearm. “Um...just tell him I don’ feel good.” He knows he sounds like a child, but his head feels very funny and he doesn’t quite know what else to say.
He must be truly dehydrated, because once he starts drinking, the sips turn to swallows, and the swallows turn to desperate gulping, and before he knows it, the cup is empty. He winces almost instantly at the new sloshing feeling in his stomach. Maybe he fucked up.
He can’t even breathe in without heaving on the exhale, and in a fraction of a second, he’s refilled the glass. He promptly sets it down and leans over, vomiting into the trash bin.
Right on cue, Tony knocks on the door and cracks it open just a tad. When he peeks in, another wet retch is climbing up Peter’s throat.
“Ah, shit,” he mutters under his breath, crossing the room to pick up the bin so Peter doesn’t fall over with the effort of heaving. He’s grateful, because the blood rushing to his head was really starting to make his vision swirl.
Tony is silently rubbing his back, and Peter tries not to be too gross. It’s sort of a lost cause, especially when he misses a little bit and pukes on his hand that’s gripping the bin. Of course, that sets off his nausea all over again.
It takes him a long while to catch his breath. He has to close his eyes and forget where he is so he can stop gagging.
“You want some Sprite?” Tony asks, unintentionally sending Peter into his worst retching fit yet. “Okay, so that’s a hard no. I’ll let you have a minute to breathe.”
“It’s—,” Peter tries, cut off by a gurgling retch. He greedily sucks in air, heaving from deep in his belly on the exhale. “Not Sprite.”
“You wanna try some juice or something instead?”
“No, I mean—that’s-” More vomit. “I threw up the Sprite.”
“Yeah, I can see that, kid.”
Peter’s never going to be able to explain if he keeps imagining the glass. He’s panting heavily over the soiled trash. “No...I drank it all,” he strains. “That’s puke.”
Just like magic, Peter’s empty stomach finds more to shove up his throat. It trickles pathetically against the plastic.
Tony stands there, processing, and then:
“Oh. Oh, Pete.”
And then Tony’s visibly trying to figure out what to do about the full cup of vomit on the bedside table. Peter feels so embarrassed all of a sudden, and if he had the energy to escape the tower and go be by himself, he would. He knows he wouldn’t make it far.
“M’so sorry.”
“I’m sure you wouldn’t have done it if you had any other choice, kid. I’m just glad it’s not on the carpet.” That makes Peter feel a little better, actually. Not enough to actually make a difference, of course, but it’s better than nothing.
“When’s it gonna stop?” he breathes out, barely keeping his composure.
Tony lets out a short sigh. “I wish I could tell you. Hopefully soon.”
Peter wilts, not feeling optimistic about that at all. Last time he caught the flu, he spent the entire weekend hurling just about anywhere he deemed moderately appropriate. He hadn’t even felt as bad then.
“I’m gonna get rid of this. Do you want me to bring anything back?”
Peter takes a moment to think and then shakes his head. There’s nothing he can imagine that would ease his misery. The only thing he can bring himself to do is pray for sleep to take him, and even that’s a battle.
“Alright. Again, call FRI if you need me for anything at all, okay?”
“‘kay.”
Tony leaves him to what’s sure to be his slow death. He turns over and begs for sleep, receiving nothing but a lingering stomach ache. He lays awake for over an hour before he finally, blissfully slips into unconsciousness.
—————
A/N: Thank you for reading as always! You rock
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bloomingflowersthings · 9 months
Note
Could u do florence pugh getting set off with allergies during an interview bc of perfume please
Sweet-smelling Interview
Author’s note: Hello everyone!!! I apologize for the lack of content lately, some rough things have happened to me so I wasn’t doing too well, I am planning on writing more though!! Thank you for your support and patience. I hope you enjoy it!! <3
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—————————————
“Ladies!! We’re going to start soon, in 10 minutes, you should be in your places.” The filming director called for you and Florence.
The both of you were going to be in a buzzfeed interview today about your new movie, you were the director, and she was the leading role, everything was going fine.
“Hehktshoo!”
Well, as “fine” as it could go with your sneezy girlfriend.
Allergy season always hits Florence hard, even taking antihistamines she still finds herself sneezing a lot throughout the day.
“Bless you, did you remember to take your allergy pills?” You asked, glancing over Flo, who was trying to rub at her eyes without messing with her makeup.
“Well…” She started to speak, avoiding your gaze.
“Oh my god Florence, what did you do?”
“See, I was going to take them! But I used the last of it yesterday and forgot to buy more.” She said, trying to defend herself.
“You’re unbelievable sometimes-“
“Hi'tshiew! Hhhxxnt!” She turned away from you to catch two itchy sneezes in her elbow, sighing softly afterwards.
“Bless, my love, are you going to be fine without them?” You said, holding both of her hands.
“I’ll be okay.” She smiled and kissed your cheek.
With that, the both of you got to your places to start the interview.
She was not okay though, Laura, your interviewer was wearing a strong perfume, that was enough to bother you a little, and to send Flo’s allergies crazy. Her already sensitive nose was red and twitching, and she was doing everything in her power to avoid sneezing. But clearly, it wasn’t working.
“hhgxnt! h'tsh! ’nxgt!” She sneezed once more, stifling to avoid making a scene.
“Bless you!” You and the interviewer said in unison.
“I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s happening to me today.” Florence said, blushing red at her lack of control.
“It’s okay! We’re gonna edit this part, are you sick?” She asked.
“No, it’s just allergies.”
The shooting continued, with a lot of stifled sneezes coming from your girlfriend, which made your worry grow, it was obvious she’d give herself a headache, but you couldn’t just tell her to stop, if you were in her place, you’d probably end up doing the same. You just wanted it to be over soon so you could take Florence home.
Thankfully, it took only about half an hour before the interview ended, and Flo rushed to the bathroom while you gathered your things.
Once you were done, you realized that she hadn’t come back yet, so you made your way to the ladies restroom, knocking lightly on the door before entering.
Florence was hunched over the sink, rubbing furiously at her eyes and nose, her breath hitching as she tried to stave of the need to sneeze.
“Flo, just let it out.” You said, sympathetically.
“Hh- What?”
“Just sneeze darling, this won’t make you feel any better.”
“I don -Hh- need -Hheh- to sne- hHEH’” She said between hitching breaths, stubbornly pressing her wrist over her nose, which made her loose the battle.
“Hhhxxnt! h'tsh! h'ktshi! hhgxnt! h’nxgt! Ow…” She said, wincing at the pressure in her head.
“Stop stifling, you'll hurt yourself." You chided lightly.
“Hhehh-Hikxxt! ’Nkxshh! Heh’kshuu! I’ll never stop sneezing that way, I think Laura’s perfume set me off, it was so strong.” She sniffled thickly, rubbing at her nose.
“Bless you, I think so too baby, and you were already sensitive without your meds, let me take you home, we’re gonna stop at the pharmacy, okay?” You said, getting the car keys from her purse, earning a glance from the sniffly blonde.
“You can’t drive home in your condition.” You said, getting a disposable mask from your pocket and giving it to her, “Here baby, put this on so the pollen doesn’t bother you too much while we walk to the parking lot.”
“Hhah'ktshi! ’tshoo! ’tshhiew!” She wiped her nose with some paper towels from the bathroom and put the mask on, “Thanks, can you take me home now pleeeease?” She whined, making you chuckle.
“Of course darling, let’s go.”
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Even though Florence had her mask on, as soon as the light breeze from the parking lot hit the both of you, she was set off again, and you interlocked your arms with hers so she wouldn’t stumble.
“Hhep’tshoo! h'ktshi! hk'kiktShIEw! Hi-HI-HIT'ShiEw!” She sneezed with her elbow pressed tightly over the mask.
“Bless, there’s tissues in the car, my dear.” You said as the both of you approached the car.
As soon as you both entered the car, Florence immediately reached for the small tissue box in the glove compartment.
“Hhah'ktshi! ’tshhiew! ‘hktshoo! Hh’itshoo! ’hktshoo! Ugh, I cant take this anymore.”
“Aww Flo, bless you.” You said, wiping her allergic tears and kissing her cheek. “We’ll get you feeling better in no time.”
She looked at you lovingly “Thank you for taking care of me Y/N, you’re my everything.”
“I’ll always take care of you.”
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
taglist: @goldenempyrean @somber-sapphic @natashamyl0ve @wandanats-goodgirl
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lizziecanrailme · 2 years
Text
My Sweet Angel
Pairing: Cargiver!Wanda x little!reader
Summary: Your Mommy takes care of you while you’re sick.
Warning: Age Regression, sickness, my bad writing
A/N: Why is most of my writing little!fics🧍🏽‍♀️
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〈★〉
The sound of the TV and your small congested breaths were the only sounds Wanda could hear. She sighed while rubbing your back, you were laying on top of her. Face buried in her neck, pacifier slightly hanging out your mouth.
She was slightly startled when she heard you cough a few times. It didn’t seem to affect you that much as you continued to sleep. Her bottom lip stuck out, worried eyes focusing on your now peaceful face, her poor angel.
You had unfortunately caught a cold that came out of nowhere. She was instantly worried at your constant coughing and sneezing. She regularly gave you medicine, even though it was difficult due to your stubbornness.
“Baby, you have to take the medicine” Wanda said while holding the syringe. You looked at the substance in disgust, “No” you stated whilst shaking your head. She sighed, grumbling under her breath.
“It will make you feel better sweetheart”, she declared, bringing it closer to your face. You turned your head away, “Noo, medicine tas’ icky” you whined.
But eventually you had to give in, knowing you’d only get worse and not be able to play outside or go places with your Mommy. You were smart, and that’s one of the things your Mommy loved about you.
She felt your breath hitch against her neck. You let out a sneeze, a particularly loud one that made you stir. “Bless you angel” she said and pressed a kiss to your sweaty forehead. She reached over to grab a tissue from the nightstand. She lifted your head up a little bit, then proceeded to wipe your nose.
You coughed again, but it sounded rougher and a little more congested than earlier. “Okay baby, it’s time to take your medicine” she said with sympathy. You whined but didn’t protest, you felt too tired to.
She raised herself from the bed, with you in her arms. She walked inside the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. Grabbing the ‘Robitussin’ and the small plastic syringe next to it. She sat on the toilet seat, you meanwhile silently sat on her lap.
Your head was laid on her collarbone, as you watched her fill the syringe up with medicine. You were awfully fatigued, even after naps and average hours of sleep. Wanda was saddened with seeing you so tired, and not the playful little she was used to.
“Say ‘ah’ for me angel”
You slightly opened your mouth, then felt the liquid being squirted in your mouth. You swallowed it and scrunched up your face from the nasty taste. She smiled at the look on your face, “I know it tastes yucky but it’ll make you feel better”. You nodded in understanding, “Ca we go back to bed Mommy?” you said while looking into her eyes.
“Of course my sweet angel”
〈★〉
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Text
Strep Throat- Marvel Oneshot
"Y/N, darling!" Wade threw Y/N's bedroom door open, "rise and shine, I brought snacks!"
Y/N groaned from underneath a mound of blankets. She peeked over them from her spot in bed and gave Wade a pitiful look.
"You're in bed still?" Peter asked, stepping inside with Wade, "you're usually up long before now."
"Don' feel good," Y/N mumbled.
Peter's lenses widened for a split second, which Y/N had learned long ago meant his spider sense was active.
"You're sick," Peter noted.
"Congrats, Sherlock, you're a genius," Y/N sniffled, "Iron-Man marvels at your IQ."
"Aww, poor little Y/N," Wade said, sitting down on the bed, "maybe this will help?"
Y/N looked up and saw Wade waving a chocolate chip cookie in front of her face. Y/N turned her head away and whimpered.
"Don' wanna eat anything," Y/N mumbled, "throat hurts too much."
Wade looked absolutely crestfallen.
"I think you need a doctor, Y/N." Peter put a gloved hand to her forehead, "yikes, definitely feverish. All right, up you go."
"Nooo," Y/N whined, "I don't wanna move."
Wade swept Y/N up into a bridal carry, blankets and all. Y/N let out a shocked squeak.
"Wade, put me down!" Y/N said weakly.
"Nuh-uh, Sunshine, you're going straight to the SHIELD med bay," Wade said, "maybe if you're good you'll get a lollipop."
Y/N shivered as Wade carried her out of her room. Peter fell in step next to Wade and opened the front door. Wade set Y/N down in the backseat of a SHIELD hover car and got in the driver's seat. Peter sat in the back with Y/N and held her upright. Y/N closed her eyes as the hover car floated up into the sky and toward the SHIELD helicarrier.
...
"Yep," the doctor said, "the strep test came back positive. You're lucky your friends have healing factors. Strep is very contagious."
Y/N sat on the exam table, hunched over and wrapped in one of her blankets. Peter rubbed his hand up and down her arm soothingly.
"What do we do?" Peter asked.
"Take this amoxicillin 3 times a day." The doctor handed Peter a bag of medicine, "and get plenty of rest and fluids."
...
A few hours later
"Peterrr," Y/N called.
"Coming!"
Peter ran into Y/N's bedroom.
"What's up?" Peter asked.
"Can I have more pain meds yet?" Y/N asked pitifully.
Peter shook his head.
"I'm sorry Y/N, but you gotta wait a few hours before I can give you more... Wade's making you soup though, it's your favorite!"
Y/N groaned and burrowed deeper under the covers.
"My throat hurts too much to eat," Y/N whimpered.
"I know, but you gotta eat," Peter reasoned, "you won't get better if you don't."
Y/N just let out another whimper.
"What hurts, Y/N?" Peter asked, "I mean, other than your throat."
"My head hurts, and my body aches, and I'm cold, and I just don't feel good!"
Peter sat down on the edge of the bed and ran a hand through Y/N's hair. He winced at the warmth radiating from her head. At that moment, Wade threw the door open, holding a bowl of soup with a spoon.
"Soup's on, doll!"
"Don't want it," Y/N mumbled.
"Too bad, you're getting it," Wade said, "now sit up."
Y/N sighed as Peter helped her sit up against the pillows. Wade sat down on Y/N's other side and held a spoonful of soup to her lips.
"Wade, I can feed my- mmph!"
Wade pushed the spoon into Y/N's mouth. Y/N had to admit, it tasted pretty good. Now came the hard part. Swallowing.
"Come on," Wade said, "you gotta swallow it."
With great difficulty, Y/N swallowed. Her throat throbbed as the soup went down.
"Can I have the spoon now? Mm!"
Wade shoved another spoonful of soup into Y/N's mouth. After a few seconds, Y/N swallowed. This went on for several minutes, Wade feeding Y/N and Y/N attempting to protest. At one point, Y/N tried to grab the spoon, but Wade held it out of her reach and made airplane noises as he shoved it back into her mouth. After a few more minutes, Y/N held up a hand for Wade to stop.
"No more," Y/N said weakly, "my throat is killing me."
"Alright, Sunshine, you can be done."
Wade set the still half-full bowl of soup on the bedside table. Y/N yawned and winced at the pain it caused in her throat.
"You wanna sleep, Y/N?" Peter asked gently.
Y/N nodded feebly. Peter helped her lay back down in the bed and adjusted the covers for her.
"Do you want us to leave?" Peter asked.
"No...stay...please," Y/N asked, turning over on her side.
"Okay, we'll stay," Peter said, and he resumed running a hand through Y/N's hair.
Y/N blinked heavily. Just eating had taken a lot out of her, and it wasn't long before she drifted off in the company of her friends.
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chrisevansdaughter · 2 years
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Plan for tonight :)
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Hey guys hope you’re all well, I’ve decided that I like the way I’ve written the last two requests so for now that how I’m going to form them.
Tonight I’m looking to publish 2-3 requests depending on how long they take :)
REQUSTS are OPEN so please do send them in i need more :)
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whumpybucky · 2 years
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I haven't been able to stop thinking about this scenario and I finally found the time to write it out. It's some sort of Silver Fox AU (always inspired by the incredible @softersteve obviously) and poor Steve just needs all the cuddles.
1k of sick silver fox Steve and protective Bucky under the cut.
All sick hurt/comfort, no plot. Enjoy!
A rough groan left Steve’s lips as he closed the snooze on his alarm for the upteenth time. The afternoon nap had done nothing to evict the ache that had taken up residence in his sinuses since last night. That familiar pain along his cheek bones spreading to behind his eyes. The one that meant he was on his way to a sinus infection. Maybe even an ear infection if the full underwater feeling was any indication. 
The serum had started to slow on his recovery time a few years back. Bucky’s too. After running them both through the gamut of tests, the head doctor of SHIELD’s medical team had joked that they were getting old. Bucky hadn’t found it funny.
Steve smiled at that memory, then blinked his eyes a few times trying clear away the puffy stiff feeling. In one, albeit slow, movement he shifted his legs off of the couch to sit up. The change in position moved the congestion in his head and a string of three rapid but strong sneezes overtook him before he had time to prepare. 
“Huh'ESHooo! HhTSCH! ETCHieeew! Ughhhh… snnfff!” 
Steve grabbed a handful of tissues from the coffee table and attempted to blow his nose as gently as possible, but it was no use. The congestion was stuck in his head like wet cotton and he was left dizzy, ears buzzing.
There would be no hiding this from Bucky, that’s for sure. 
When his husband had left earlier that week for recruit training, the beginnings of the cold had just settled in. Bucky had been so distraught about leaving him, despite Steve’s assurance that he would be fine.
“I just hate leaving you right as you’re getting sick,” Bucky had said sweetly as he hugged Steve goodbye. 
“Buck, I’ll be okay. You’re only gone four days—”
“Four and a half,” he had corrected with a worried tone.
“Four and half,” Steve repeated with a smile. “It’s just a cold—”
“A bad one that knocked me on my ass for three days. That’s with the serum.”
Steve saw the concern painted across his husband’s face, brows furrowed and jaw clenched. The same look from all those decades ago. It still made Steve melt.
“Buck, sweetheart… snfff! I promise I’ll go to med if there’s even a hint of a fever.”
“You better,” he had asserted, along with his best ‘I'm not kidding’ look before pressing a soft kiss into his forehead. His lips lingered ever so slightly, which had made Steve chuckle.
“I don’t have a fever.”
Bucky had sighed at being caught in the act. 
“I just worry about you,” he had admitted, barely above a whisper as he lowered his chin to rest their foreheads together, running his calloused hand through Steve’s sandy silver waves.
“I know you do, sweetheart. And I love you for it. You know I’ll send you status updates. Now go, or you'll miss your flight.”
Four and a half days came and went. Bucky would be home in an hour and Steve was… well, he was pretty sure he was running a fever now. He felt like he constantly had to clear his throat and it ached whenever he swallowed. His head felt like it was full of concrete. And the pressure, the pressure made him want to sink back into the couch and keep his eyes closed for the foreseeable future. 
Clearly Steve had cursed himself when he had assured Bucky he was feeling better the night before. He really thought he was. He had even promised him there would be vegetable barley stew for his return. He knew Bucky loved something comforting after a stint away.
Sighing at the combined thought of having to muster the energy to prepare dinner and disappointing his husband at his not improved state, the retired captain forced himself up off the couch and into their bathroom to take a hot shower. Maybe the steam would help loosen things up a bit. 
Thirty minutes later Steve barely made it back to the couch. The steam had made little difference. Only enough to send his sinuses buzzing, sparking another string of painful sneezes. The congestion was definitely in his ears and it made him feel like he was on a boat, so much so that he had to hold onto walls and furniture as he walked back into the living room. Plus the loss of heat from the shower had him shivering since he got out, unable to regain the same warmth. 
Steve decided he would sit for five minutes. Just to get warm again. 
As he finished pulling the fuzzy blanket Bucky had bought him for his last birthday across his lap, Steve heard the deadbolt turn. The stew would have to wait.
*****
“Stevie? I’m back, baby,” Bucky called out to his husband as he toed off his shoes and hung his jacket on one of the hooks in the hall. 
“In here, Buck.” The rough weakness of Steve’s voice, followed by a dry cough, made Bucky cringe.
“Steven,” Bucky chastised as soon as he had lowered himself onto the couch. Steve’s eyes fluttered open, offering a glassy blue look of apology—which Bucky accepted, noting the fevered flush across his cheeks and the puffiness around his forehead and cheekbones. 
“I’m sorry, Buck, but dinner isn’t made, SNFF!—” he paused to cough, then cleared his throat, “I was getting better, I swear… SNfff!”
Bucky huffed, but not out of anger, “fuck, you know I don’t care about dinner, I just care about how you’re feeling now.”
Bucky cupped Steve’s cheek, his lips pouting slightly at the heat radiating from his husband’s skin. Steve sighed into his palm, likely reveling in the cooling contrast of the touch. 
“I th–snnfff–I think I need to go to med,” Steve admitted, then suddenly turned away from Bucky’s hand and into his elbow, clearly about to sneeze. He hitched softly, coaxing out the strong soft triple.
“Huh… huh… hurrESHHUUU! het’STCH…huh’HSSHhhu!” 
“I think so too. Bless you, three times,” Bucky offered along with several tissues.
Steve accepted them with a grateful nod, snuffling into the bunch before all but collapsing into Bucky’s chest.
“Poor Stevie,” Bucky whispered more to himself.
Then he wrapped his arms around his husband, leaning them both back into the couch. Then one hand rubbed soft circles on Steve’s back while the other carded fingers through his fever damp hair. 
“Maybe in a little bit though?” Steve mumbled the delayed response into Bucky’s chest, followed by a weak cough. “Just got you back. Missed you.”
“Of course. Missed you too. So much.” 
Bucky’s chest ached for Steve. For not being there when he needed. But as much as Bucky wanted to run his husband down to med right away, he couldn’t say no to holding him a bit longer. He was home. He could take care of him now. 
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somber-sapphic · 10 months
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Fevered Confessions
〖Notes: Sorry guys, just another repost.〗
〖Summary: You fall asleep after a mission and admit something you didn't intend to.〗
〖Word Count: 770 〗
☾Masterlists☽
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
It wasn't a surprise that you fell asleep. It had been an exhausting battle, and everyone knew that you had been working yourself harder than you should be; going days at a time without sleep, and generally ignoring your wellbeing. The surprise came when you fell asleep on Natasha. 
You’d been swaying in your seat for a little while, trying to keep up with the Avengers conversation when you just couldn’t hold your eyes open anymore. Your body ignored your wishes and you slumped, exhausted, against the assassin, your head landing on her shoulder. 
The woman jumped a little bit but recovered quickly and instinctively wrapped an arm around your waist to keep you from tipping over. 
“Oh, poor girl,” Wanda noted, shaking her head slightly. They all wanted you to relax, but you seemed unable to. Every so often you would meet another sleepless Avenger and stay with them until they could go back to sleep. For some reason, your presence seemed to calm them. 
“She’s been going non-stop for days now, I’m surprised it took so long,” Bruce remarked, voice full of regret. They were all wishing that they could’ve done something to help you take a break, but they didn’t know how. 
“Nat, you okay?” Wanda asked, drawing attention to the stunned look on the spy’s face. She had always wanted this. She’d wanted to hold you since the minute the two of you met. She’d let herself fall in love with you.
Natasha nodded slowly, seemingly trying to take in what was currently happening. Your head was buried in her neck, burning skin making direct contact. 
She pushed a piece of long hair out of your eyes, getting a little whimper in response. It broke her heart.
She pulled you a little closer, hoping she could provide you with some comfort. You muttered something in your sleep that sounded like ‘don't go’ which hurt Natasha all over again. 
“Shh, shh I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here.” The woman soothed, pressing a gentle kiss to your hairline. You relaxed in her arms, melting into her warm touch. 
Clint had apparently put the jet on autopilot, because he walked out from the cockpit, instantly noticing how you were curled into Natasha’s side. He smiled, knowing very well about his best friend’s crush on you. 
“How’s everybody doing?” Cap asked, appearing behind Clint. You jumped at the volume of his voice and your face screwed up in discomfort. 
“Y/n finally fell asleep.” Tony pointed out, raising an eyebrow at Steve. 
“Tasha? W’as goin’ on?” You mumbled, eyelids fluttering a little. Everyone sighed, and Wanda shook her head at Steve. 
“Nothing Y/n, Steve’s just being a little bit loud. Go back to sleep, alright?” Natasha murmured, running her fingers through your sweaty hair. You rubbed your bleary eyes and sat up, realizing that you were leaning against the woman. 
‘Sorry…sorry I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I’m sorry.” Your voice was heavy with sleep, but you were struggling to keep yourself from falling back against the assassin. She was warm and soft and felt so much better than the chills wracking your body. 
“No, no honey please go back to sleep. You haven't slept in days and we’ve still got a couple of hours.” Natasha pleaded, grabbing your trembling hands. 
You blinked at her, confused, and shook your head. 
“Mission,” 
“The missions over, Y/n,” Tony said, trying to pull you out of the feverish delirium. You frowned, looking over at Natasha who was looking at you with fear-filled eyes. 
“What's wrong? What happened? Did someone get hurt?” You asked, not understanding why she looked so nervous. 
“No love, no one got hurt, you’re just a little sick, okay? How about we go back to sleep?” She coaxed, nodding in thanks at Wanda, who wrapped a blanket around violently shaking shoulders. 
You wanted to protest, but your eyes were slipping closed again. 
“Stay?” You sniffled, drooping against the redhead's shoulder. Her heart melted at the genuine request, although there was nowhere that she could go. 
“Of course.” She pressed a gentle kiss on your sweaty hairline, trying to quell the worry that your fever brought. You sighed contentedly at the gesture and moved a little closer.
“Love you, Tasha…” It was so quiet that she wasn’t sure if she heard you correctly. Her heart leaped into her throat and tears sprung to her eyes. 
“I…I love you too Y/n. Now, go to sleep. I’ll wake you when we get home.” You nodded against her shoulder and allowed yourself to succumb to the enticing call of sleep. 
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goldenempyrean · 1 year
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Hey! I have a request. Could you write something where Wanda has been a bit stressed with work, and R had the flu. R doesn't want to add to Wanda's stress, so R hides their sickness. R has to go and do something outside for whatever reason (even though Wanda protests) and when R comes back in, their so delirious and out of it, they tell Wanda they feel sick, even though they don't really know what's going on. Thank you for your time!
Don't You Worry About Me
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〚 Notes  - Hey! Just another lil piece to fill the gap as I work on the AU :) Oh, please lmk what yall think about the new lil colours for the titles and stuff. I think it looks pretty cool! Also my amazing @lyak12 helped me out with the main idea for this too!〛
〚 Pairing- Wanda Maximoff x Reader 〛
〚 Summary - Wanda's been swamped with work lately and the last thing you wanted to was to add to her stress. Even if it means hiding the truth from her. 〛
〚 Wordcount - 3140 〛
〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙
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Wanda had spent the last few days battling a nasty case of the flu. She had been feeling weak and achy and was fighting a fever which just wouldn't break, no matter how hard you tried. But she was finally starting to feel better and had even managed to drag herself into her online work that morning. Unfortunately, she’d quickly realised that she was behind schedule on her reports. For some dumb reason Fury had decided to shorten the deadline and now she was quickly running out of time to complete them all. 
She tried to focus on her work, but her head was still a bit fuzzy from the fever. She kept having to stop and reread things, and it was taking her twice as long as it should have. She could feel her stress levels rising as the clock ticked on and her to-do list seemed to be getting longer rather than shorter. And despite your best efforts to keep her calm, every little thing only seemed to add to the growing pile of stress pressing down on her. That was probably why you hadn't even registered the aching feeling in your bones, you were far too busy.  
But as the day went on, you couldn't ignore the sick feeling that was slowly creeping up on you. Your head was starting to throb, and your throat was beginning to feel scratchy. You tried to push through it, but every time you stood up to grab something, you found yourself feeling dizzy and disoriented.  
Around noon you'd decided to make some tea and that's when you'd first noticed it, the weakness in your arm as you went to lift the kettle. That’s when it really clicked for you that you were getting sick, and you had to stifle an annoyed groan. Of course you’d caught it from her. Just great... But it wasn't exactly like you had the time to dwell on it – if you did you’d only end up alerting Wanda to your condition, which was the last thing you wanted, especially when she was already so stressed with her work, so instead you finished up the tea and came to sit beside Wanda in the living room, attempting to clear a space on the coffee table between the piles of paperwork and files to place her mug down. 
You could see the frustration and exhaustion written all over her face as she loudly tapped on the laptop settled on her knees. It made your heart ache. You knew that she was the type of person who hated falling behind on her work, especially when deadlines were involved. 
Wanda looked up from her laptop and smiled weakly as you placed the mug of tea in front of her. "Thank you," she murmured before turning her attention back to her work. You settled down beside her, trying to ignore the growing ache in your bones. You really didn't want to worry Wanda, especially since she was already stressed enough as it was. "How's your day going?" She asked casually, her voice still a little hoarse from days of coughing. 
You shrugged. "Busy, but nothing I can't handle," You replied, trying to sound optimistic, “Can I do anything else for you though sweetheart?” you offered sweetly as you reached out to gently squeeze her thigh. 
“Is there any way you could help me with these?” She motioned to the stacks of paper littering the coffee table, “I know it wasn’t your mission but I’m so far behind and Fury’s going to have my head chopped off and hung up for public display if I don’t get this all done.” 
You nodded, Fury was known for being strict with deadlines, “Okay baby, do you want me to look over these?” You asked, picking up one of the denser files. 
“That’d be amazing.” Wanda sighed in relief as she leant over to kiss your cheek, “You’re doing me such a huge favour baby.” 
As you both started working on the reports, you could feel your own weakness and fatigue growing with every passing minute, not to mention the constant feeling like your nose was running leading you to sniffle quietly every so often. But you pushed through it, determined to help Wanda get her work done. Much to your annoyance, over the next few hours, your sniffles only increased, and you were frequently having to take breaks to go and discreetly blow your nose in another room. On a normal occasion you would’ve told Wanda the second you began to feel like something was off, but you knew that telling her would only stress her out further and there was no way you wanted to do that. So, you stayed painfully silent about the growing pressure in your sinuses and continued to diligently help Wanda with her work. 
As the day wore on, you could feel the exhaustion starting to take its toll on you. Your body felt heavy, and your mind was starting to feel foggy. You knew you should probably take a break and rest, but you didn't want to let her down so when Wanda suggested taking a break, you instantly jumped on the opportunity. 
By the time the two of you were going to bed, you felt thoroughly exhausted. Even just moving felt like a monumental task and you had to fight to stay awake as you brushed your teeth. By some miracle, you managed to finish getting ready for bed without falling asleep, it was just as you were giving yourself a final look over in the mirror when you felt the annoying itch in your sinuses. 
“Hh'ishu! Ish'chu! HeH’TSHiew!” Despite your best efforts to stay quiet, your last sneeze ended up being on the louder side prompting Wanda to call out a ‘bless you!’ from the bedroom. You waited hesitantly to see whether she’d say anything else, but it seemed her poor mind was too preoccupied with the looming work of tomorrow for her to connect the dots, so you took the opportunity to thoroughly blow your nose before padding back into your bedroom. 
“You tired my love?” Wanda asked, as you sank into the bed, welcoming the warmth of your blankets, “Thanks for helping me out so much today.” 
“A little.” You mumbled – ‘a little’ was a huge understatement, “and you don’t need to thank me darling, I just want you to be able to get all this work done.” 
“You helped a lot. I'm really thankful.” Wanda murmured quietly as she yawned widely before nuzzling against you, “Goodnight baby.” 
“Goodnight Wands.” 
〘✧✧✧〙   
When you woke up the next morning the bed was cold. Painfully cold. You rolled over into the spot where Wanda would usually be led, only to be met with an empty bed. You felt awful, you’d barely opened your eyes when you were struck with a harsh, painful headache nestled deep behind them. Groaning, you tried to sit up, though admittedly it did numerous attempts, and you began slowly massaging temples in a feeble attempt of getting some form of relief. 
Pulling your aching body out of bed seemed almost impossible but you did it anyway, trying to take a deep breath as the room span around you. There was no way you were getting properly dressed today, instead you opted to pull on one of Wanda’s fuzzy cardigans instead before heading over to the bathroom. 
You really should’ve prepared yourself better for the reflection staring back at you in the mirror. You looked awful. Thick purple bags hung beneath your red, tired eyes, only extenuated further by your sickly, white skin. You hadn’t even had the chance to criticise your fever flushed cheeks before your sinuses reared their complaints and sent you bending at the waist with two strong sneezes only to be followed by a harsh bout of thick coughing which left you trembling and breathless. 
After the coughing fit subsided, you stumbled over to the sink and splashed some water on your face. The cool liquid brought a small measure of relief to your pounding head, but it wasn't enough to stop the dizziness from overwhelming you. You leaned heavily against the counter, willing the room to stop spinning. Humouring yourself, you decided to take your own temperature and even that was a huge task, especially when you weren’t able to breathe out of your overly stuffy nose. 
However, you managed to hold your breath long enough for the small device to beep loudly, announcing its verdict. 
“Oh shit...” You mumbled to yourself, looking down at the numbers on the slightly blurry electronic screen. 39.1 - that really wasn’t good, truthfully it wasn’t just the screen that was blurry, everything around you seemed to be muffled by a thick wall of cotton and you only found yourself cursing again when you opened the bathroom cupboard to see an almost-empty bottle of Flu medicine sitting on the shelf. 
Wanda had used the last of it. 
Great. 
Speaking of. You wished Wanda was here. You needed her more than ever, you craved her comfort and longed for her to tuck you up into bed but no, you were stuck here staring at your pitiful reflection, feeling like death warmed over. Just as you were about to call out for her something stopped you.  
She still had her work to do, calling out for her now would only distract her. Muffling another round of harsh, chesty coughs into your sleeve only made tears well up in your eyes. But you didn't cry. You only sniffled and reminded yourself that you were an Avenger too. You might not have powers, but you had resilience and determination, and you weren't going to let the flu defeat you. You just had to toughen up. How far even was the shop anyway? All you needed to do was go out and by yourself some medicine. That’s all you needed to do. 
Taking a deep breath, you pulled yourself away from the bathroom counter and slowly made your way to the door. The room spun as you tried to focus on the hallway in front of you. Every step felt like a marathon, your body ached and shivered with every move. But you pushed on, driven by the desire to get better and not let this illness get the better of you. 
Ignoring Wanda’s call of ‘goodmorning’ from the kitchen, you reached the front door, opening to only be blinded by the intense light beaming down from the blue sky. It was a beautiful day, the kind of day you would usually spend outside, enjoying the warmth and taking in the sights of the city. But today, all you could think of was getting to the pharmacy and getting back to bed. 
With shaky hands, you stepped outside, continuing to ignore Wanda’s calls of confusion. The cool air hit you instantly, and you shuddered, pulling the cardigan tighter around yourself. The pharmacy was only a few blocks away, but each step felt like an eternity. You could feel your temperature rising, your head pounding, and your breathing becoming more and more laboured. 
You didn’t know how long you were walking for before you decided to turn back, everything was too much, the light, your wheezing exhausted breathing, everything. Hell, you could barely make out your own hand in front of your pale face as the world spun around you. It was a miracle you’d even made it this far without collapsing. 
And so, by the time you’d stumbled back into the safety of your home, all your energy had been thoroughly drained, and you clutched the wall for support, knowing it was the only thing keeping you upright. 
“Sweetie? Where did you go?” Wanda called out as the sound of the door closing echoed through your home, hearing no answer, the witch stood up from the table and slowly padded over to peek round the corner only to frantically rush to your side when she saw you leaning weakly against the wall for support, “Oh my god, Y/N?! Holy shit, you’re on fire, why on earth were you outside? When did you get this sick? Fuck Y/N-” 
Truthfully, you were only hearing about half of the worried words frantically spilling from her, you were too busy on attempting to keep yourself lucid which was proving to be a very difficult task when the room around you wouldn’t stop spinning, “We need’d med’cine.” Your words came out in a jumbled mess as Wanda pulled you into her arms, cradling your trembling body. 
“No, no baby you need to be in bed. Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling sick? When did you even get sick? This can’t be new.” Her anxious tone was impossible to miss as you felt yourself being lifted up into her arms as she carried you in the direction of your bedroom, “Why didn’t I notice this...” 
“Yo’ were busy wit’ work.” Your slurred word were barely decipherable and you soon felt yourself being lowered down onto the familiar softness of your bed; a thick blanket being tucked over your shaking body.   
Wanda’s face was etched with worry as she looked down at you, “No, I should have noticed. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. My work is nowhere near as important as your health is.” She pressed a cool hand to your sweat-soaked forehead, “You’re beyond burning up...” 
Your response was only a mutter of unaudiable words as Wanda quickly rushed out of the room. It felt like she was gone for hours, but in reality, it was only probably a few minutes. But when she returned, she was tightly clutching a small bottle in her hands, “I got this from the neighbours, it isn’t too strong but it’s the only thing we have on hand.” 
“Mm?” you tried sitting up, but a firm hand kept you in place. 
“No baby, lay down. I just need you to drink this, okay?” Wanda’s words soothed you as she poured out a dose of the medicine and held it to your lips, rubbing your back as you sipped it weakly.  
The medicine was bitter and made you scrunch up your face, but you were too weak to protest. Wanda continued to stroke your hair and hum a gentle tune, trying to calm you down as the medicine began to take effect. Gradually, you felt the heat in your body subside a little and your breathing became easier. 
“Poor baby, I'm so sorry that I got caught up in all that work.” She whispered quietly, reaching over to grab some tissues when you began fussing with your running nose. 
She must’ve been physic or something because only seconds later, you felt your nose burn with that pestering itch again and you only had to energy to turn your head away in the opposite direction to her before...  
““Ihsheiueww! Hih...hihhEHHHSHIEW!” 
“Awh my poor baby, bless you.” Wanda sighed, taking another handful of tissues to wipe your face before running her hand through your slightly-damp hair, “This bug’s really doing a number on you, isn’t it?” 
You could only manage a weak nod in response, feeling utterly drained and exhausted. But as Wanda continued to care for you, you couldn't help but feel grateful for her presence. Her gentle touch and soothing words were the only things keeping you grounded in reality. 
As the medicine began to take full effect, you felt your eyes start to droop and your body relax into the mattress. Wanda must have noticed because she leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead before whispering, "Get some rest, my love. I'll be right here with you." 
And with those words, you allowed yourself to drift off into a peaceful slumber, feeling safe and comforted in Wanda's loving embrace. 
The next time you opened your eyes, the room was dark, and you could see the faint outline of Wanda sitting in a chair beside you, still keeping a watchful eye. She must have fallen asleep at some point because her head was resting against the back of the chair, her breathing slow and steady. You didn't want to wake her, but your throat was parched, and you needed water. 
You mustered up all your strength to croak out her name, "Wanda?" 
She stirred slightly and opened her eyes, rubbing them to adjust to the dim light. "Hey there, how are you feeling?" she asked softly. 
"Thirsty," you managed to say, your gravelly voice barely above a whisper. 
Wanda immediately stood up and grabbed a glass of water from the bedside table. She helped you sit up and slowly raised the glass to your lips, supporting your head with her other hand. The cool water felt heavenly on your parched throat, and you gulped it down greedily. 
"Thanks," you said, your voice a bit stronger now. 
Wanda smiled, "Anything for you, my love." 
You settled back down into the bed, feeling a bit more comfortable now that you had some water in your system. Wanda pulled the covers up to your chin and tucked you in, her hand lingering on your forehead to check your temperature. 
"You're still warm," she noted. "But your fever has gone down a little, I was seriously debating taking you to hospital earlier y’know.” 
The next few days were a blur of fever dreams and fits of coughing, but Wanda remained by your side throughout it all. She made sure you were always comfortable, bringing you hot soup and a cool washcloth to soothe your burning forehead. 
Despite the pain and discomfort, there was something oddly comforting about being so vulnerable around Wanda. She never judged you or made you feel weak for being sick. Instead, she loved and cared for you even more, making you feel truly cherished. 
As the days passed, your symptoms gradually began to subside, and you started to feel more like yourself again. Wanda was always at your side, encouraging you to take it slow and rest as much as possible. 
Finally, the day came when you felt strong enough to get out of bed and move around a little. You stumbled into the living room, feeling a little unsteady on your feet, but Wanda was there to catch you. 
"Easy there," she said, smiling gently. "How are you feeling?" 
"Better," you replied, your voice still a little raspy from all the constant coughing. "Thanks to you." 
Wanda's smile widened, and she pulled you into a warm embrace. "I'm just glad you're feeling better," she whispered. "I was so worried about you." 
You hugged her back, feeling a sense of gratitude wash over you. Despite the illness, it had brought you even closer to Wanda, and you knew that you would always have her by your side, no matter what. 
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lots-of-pockets · 11 months
Text
Vulnerable
Parings: Natasha x You
Words: 1466
Warnings: extremely brief mentions of SA. Redroom.
Summary: Natasha is extremely sick, and trusts only you to take care of her.
Notes: this definitely could have gone on for much longer, but it’s been a while since I’ve had the inspiration to write and I wasn’t going to push myself. So enjoy this, because I’m not sure when I’ll be able to update again 🤍
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Natasha lets out a congested sniffle as she brings her hand up to rub at the tip of her nose in a futile attempt at quelling the persistent itch. She didn't think she'd ever felt so awful before.
Her nose was simultaneously as stuffy as it was dripping with snot. That wasn't even mentioning how sore it was due to how often she was constantly having to blow it. She was feverish; her joints ached and it feels like she was swallowing gravel each time she tries to eat or drink something.
She was sweating through every single item of clothing she owns, and she could barely stand up without feeling as though she was about to pass out.
Natasha didn't even want think about how her hair hadn't been washed in days, sprawled down her back in what was once considered a braid but was now simply one large tangle.
She was frustrated, irritable. And she just wanted everything to stop.
"Huh'htsch!" She doesn't even bother trying to stifle. She'd sneezed so many times today that it was beyond her efforts.
"Bless you baby." You murmur as you make your way back into your shared bedroom, setting down the tray filled with soup, medicine and water onto the nightstand before sitting down and running a gentle hand up and down Natasha's back. "How are you feeling?" You tuck a sweat soaked strand of hair behind her ear.
Natasha just barely shrugs her shoulders as her eyes burn with the familiar sensation of tears.
She wasn't an emotional person. Not as a child, nor now as an adult. Early on she'd learned that being cold and emotionless was one of the only tools you had in this cruel world. Not a single tear had been shed during her time in the red room. Not when she was beaten. Tortured. Not even when they'd taken what was left of her innocence away at just thirteen years of age. She'd remained stoic and unfeeling. A robot. Just as they'd taught her.
It was a title she'd held most of her life. She was often described as rather cold and emotionless by those she chooses to have close to her, and she was okay with that. It made pushing people away easier when the time came for it, because the less people she had in her life, the less there were to betray her.
But with you? Never. In your company, she allows those walls to fall a little. She was safe with you. She trusted you. More than anyone and anything. So when the first of many tears begin to fall down her cheek leaving only a soft tickling sensation in its wake, she doesn't even try to stop it.
"I know," you whisper knowingly as you lean down slightly to press a gentle kiss to flaming hot skin, "I know baby. I'll go run you a cool bath, okay? See if we can get this fever down a little. You can have your soup later."
Natasha simply nods as she sniffles wetly into her pillow, and after making a mental note to change the sheets before you went to bed tonight, you press another kiss to her wet cheek before disappearing through to the en-suite bathroom. Several more coughs and sneezes fill your ears as you make quick work of preparing the bath, and you sigh in defeat as you dry off your hands with a towel.
You wished you could do more for her. Medicine and soup could only do so much before your efforts were in vain.
When the tub was filled about half way with warm water, you head back through to the bedroom to see Natasha just as you had left her. Except now, she appears to be asleep. Soft snores were escaping her slightly parted lips, and you couldn't help but smile softly at the sight as you head over to her and perch yourself at the end of the bed. You run a gentle hand across her back.
"Nat? Your baths ready baby." You attempt to rouse her, and Natasha sighs heavily as she pries her eyes open. She smiles softly at the sight of you, and you couldn't help but mimic it as you slide your arms beneath her back to sit her up.
"Want me to carry you?" You ask as your hand comes to rest on the bare skin of her back from where her shirt had ridden up, keeping your voice as judgment free as possible. Whilst you knew she trusted you, more than she trusted anybody else, she still had her limits and you weren't about to push them.
Natasha could only nod, and you press a gentle kiss to her shoulder as you guide her arms to settle around your shoulders. Once sure she was hanging on, you slip a hand beneath each of her thighs and easily lift her smaller frame up into your arms. Her legs seem to instinctively tighten around you, and you give her behind a few soft pats to reassure her that you had her before making your way through to the bathroom.
Natasha's body seems to protest on its own accord when you attempt to set her down straight away, and you find yourself pausing for only a second before standing back up right and tightening your grip around her. Her legs were in what could only be described as a death grip around your waist, fists tight around the material of your T-shirt.
You knew -for wherever reason, that she was in fight or flight mode right now, and treading carefully was your best option.
"It's okay," you reassure, keeping an arm beneath her to behind to help keep her supported, your free hand tracing gentle circles across the length of her back, "we'll stay right here for as long as you need. You want to know our plans for after your bath?" You ask in hopes it would help distract her, and though it takes a little while, you do eventually feel her nod, silently signalling for you to continue.
"First we're gonna get some soup into your stomach. I made chicken and noodle, your favourite," you give her a soft bounce, glad to feel her lips quirk up into a smile against the skin of your neck. "Then after that I'm afraid it's time for some more medicine." You continue knowingly, and the groan that falls from her lips did not go amiss.
Her legs, however, do loosen slightly around you signalling she was becoming more relaxed.
You smile slightly in amusement. "But..." you add with a playful tilt to your voice, "if you take it with no complaints, I have some ice cream in the freezer that's calling your name."
You weren't beyond bribing your girlfriend when necessary. She was more stubborn than anyone you've ever met before, so if a promise of ice cream was enough to get her to take her medication then so be it. You weren't ashamed, and neither was she.
Natasha remains in your arms for a few moments longer before legs go limp allowing you to set her down, and you do so both gently and reluctantly, bringing your hands up to cup her flushed cheeks and delicately grazing the pads of your thumbs across the soft skin.
"Kiss." She pleads hoarsely as she clutches at your wrists, and you pout softly as you lean down to press your lips against her own. The kiss was gentle, her lips slightly chapped. It lingers for no more than two seconds before you reluctantly pull away.
"Bath, baby." You remind as you lean forward to place a lingering kiss to her forehead, and Natasha nods with a wet sniffle as she holds up her arms.
Smiling slightly at the silent implication, you gently tug the oversized shirt from her body and toss it into the laundry basket. You then fall to your knees and wait for her nod of consent before easing your fingers into the waistband of her shorts and easing them down her legs along with her underwear.
With an affectionate kiss to her hipbone, you were back on your feet, taking your hands in her own and helping her unsteady frame into the tub.
She says nothing about the temperature of the water, but you could see by both the look on her face and the goosebumps that litter every inch of her skin that she was less than comfortable. With no hesitation, you find yourself stripping off too, slipping in to the small gap left behind her and circling your arms around her waist.
"I've got you baby.” You murmur, “I’ve got you.”
**
@mywitchy-assassin @goldenempyrean @somber-sapphic
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chrisevansdaughterr · 2 years
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GUYS! I NEED HEADCANNONS IM IN THE MOOD TO WRITE!
Send them in <33
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Flushed. fevered. flu.
Prompt: faking sick
Pairings: Wandanat x R
Word count: 1k?
Summary: you had lied about being sick one too many times and now you really are your girls don’t quite believe you
TW: vomiting, non-sexual nudity, fever, not being believed (yes it’s a warning), slight angst, migraine
A/n …
It was midday and despite it being winter every inch of your skin felt like it was on fire. The day had started off fine. A small tickle in your throat and a budding headache behind your eyes soon turned into a full blown migraine and seemingly harsh coughing fits.
You had drawn the curtains and were curled up in bed feeling like you had been hit by a truck. Clutching the thin blanket around your shoulders you didn’t have the energy to get the thick fluffy one you loved so much. Your eyes were closed and the only indicator that anyone had come into the room was the sound of the door opening. You threw an arm over your eyes when Nat turned the light on. Wanda stood by her shoulder peering into the room at you in the big shared bed.
“Really y/n?” Nat asked sounding unimpressed.
“Huh?” You asked the fever muddling your thoughts.
“Faking sick to get out of team training?” Nat sighed.
“‘M not faking.” You grumbled rolling over. Fast footsteps approached from the door and you felt the blanket snatched for your shoulders.
“Get up before we finish getting changed or we won’t wait for you.” Nat said harshly stomping off to the wardrobe to get her training gear. She dumped the blanket on the floor.
“Y/n I really thought you were starting to grow out of being so immature.” Wanda sighed with no malice in her tone just disappointment which somehow stung worse as you know she believed her words to be true. Tears budded in your eyes as both girls got changed. Nat huffed looking down at you with dissaprovemnt.
“Come on wanda she’s Steve’s problem now.” She grabbed Wanda’s hand and led her from the room. Wanda shot you a concerned look. Usually you were one to give up and follow them after theatrics but not today it seemed.
Burying your burning face in the pillows you let the tears fall and wet the fabric. Sobs wracked your heated form as hard coughs bubbled up in your chest. You were left gasping for air as more tears fell and harsh rib rattling coughs tore at your lungs and chest. Suddenly the migraine and the coughing teamed up and the tell tale signs of being sick hit you. You wobbled to your feet trying to get to the bathroom in time as you steadied yourself against the wall. You felt like you were dying. You had just made it to the bathroom when your legs gave out. Your stomach gave you no more time as you threw up all over yourself and the tiles. Promptly you burst into tears and despite your girlfriends harsh words you wished they were with you. Through your sobs you didn’t hear the knocking at the door or Steve’s voice as he said he was coming in.
Being the team leader it was his job to rally the troops for team training. Wanda and Nat had told him you were faking so he was shocked when he saw you slumped against the wall crying and covered in your own sick.
“Y/n?” He asked still shocked. “Hey it’s alright.” He said crouching down to your eye level avoiding the sick on the floor. “Do you want me to get Natty and Wands?” He asked and you nodded through the sobs. Disgusted with yourself and utterly miserable.
“Jarvis alert Natasha and Wanda that I need them urgently in their room.
You must have been really out of it or the girls were concerned as it seemed like just seconds later you heard them burst into the bedroom.
“Steve?” Wanda called
“In here.” He called
“What’s wro-“ Nat asked “oh.” Was all she said as she looked down at you tears still falling down your cheeks.
“Oh sweet girl it’s ok we’re here love.” Wanda cooed crouching down beside you.
“I’m just gonna” Steve jabbed his thumb at the door. “You’re all excused from todays session.”
“Thanks Steve” Nat nodded.
After Steve left Nat was at your other side.
“Love is it ok if we take off your clothes?” Nat cooed. You nodded wanting to be out of the sick covered Pjs you hadn’t changed out of this morning.
“‘M sorry about the mess” you cried.
“Oh love no. We should be sorry we didn’t belive you even when you tried to tell us.” Wanda cooed.
Nat tapped your side with her finger “arms up sweetie” she said softly. You lifted you aching arms above your head and as Nat removed your shirt her fingers brushed against your warm skin making you shiver.
She frowned throwing the shirt in the sink and coming back to place a hand on your forehead.
“Wands can you get the thermometer I think our sweet girl has a fever she feels a bit warm.”
Wanda nodded, just having finished taking off her own clothes so she could help you shower.
Rummaging around in the cupbaord she pulled it out. Nat took it from her and swiped the tip over your sweaty forehead.
It beeped once. Then twice. She turned the screen to wanda to show her the number.
“Oh baby 103.2 that’s too high my love we don’t want you to hurt that pretty brain of yours.” Wanda cooed. Helping you up as Nat went to get somthing to clean the sick off the floor.
Wanda guided your hand onto her shoulder as she crouched down to take off your pants. You steadied yourslef on her as you step each leg out. Wanda chucked them in the sink as well and helped you into the shower.
“This is gonna feel cold love but I promise it’ll be over soon.” She turned the handle and you whined when the water hit your skin.
“I know. I know love.” Wanda cooed pulling you into her bare chest.
“It’ll be all better soon.” She ran a hand through your wet hair as you cried softly.
After she helped you wash your body clean of any grossness she wrapped you in a fluffy towel and dried your hair. Nat helped dress you as you were shaking and she had finished cleaning the floor and had thrown your Pjs in the wash. Having brought a second pair back with her.
“We just need to check your temperature has gone down and then we’ll go cuddle up in bed ok my sweet?” She cooed running a hand through your hair. You nodded and coughed leaning into Wanda’s neck your body pressed against hers with most of your weight.
“Can you turn and look at me love.” Nat asked and you did. Fever flushed cheeks and glossy eyes still somehow making you look cute. Your nose was pink and your eyes drooped.
She swiped it over your forehead.
“102.6 I think that’s safe enough to go back to bed but we’ll have to keep an eye on it.” She hummed.
“Do you think you can make it to the bed by yourself.” Wanda asked. Looking at your shaking legs. “Nevermind love ready?” She asked placing a hand behind you knees. “One. Two. Up we go.” She scooped you up and carried you back into the bedroom. Nat followed behind with the thermometer and just in case, a sick bag she had gotten off Bruce when she went to wash your clothes. You looked missrable as you muffled a series of coughs into Wanda’s chest. She didn’t seem to mind, knowing how hard it could be for you to be vulnerable around people. Part of her also knew you were too far gone right now to care about that. You just needed love, support and care. Three things you hadn’t had in the past.
Carefully she placed you on the bed and pulled up the sheets to your chin. Sitting on either side of you, your girls looked down at your small form. Nat placed the thermometer on the bedside and wanda pressed a tablet to your lips which you took. Drinking the water she held up for you without complaint.
“Relax now love. Go to sleep. Natty and I are here now.” Wanda cooed running her fingers through your hair. You moaned slightly at the cool nails on your warm scalp and sighed contently. Wanda chuckled slightly and Nat laid down beside you.
“From now on we will listen to everything you have to say my love. I’m sorry I didn’t belive you.”
“We both are.” Wanda agreed.
But you were already asleep. Softly snoring as you basked in your girlfriends arms and love.
MASTERLIST
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