#dr sickfic

[softestqueeen]

✧*̥˚ spencer reid fic recs part 3*̥˚✧

a/n: *heavy sigh* another month, another fic rec list! yes, i am insane. also this picture of mgg is literally driving me into oblivion! i need him

✨ favourites

part 1 I part 2 I part 3 I part 4 I my criminal minds masterlist

✧*̥˚ smut *̥˚✧

bad, bad news by @aliteralsemicolon

it will come back by @parfaitblogs

diphenhydramine by @pathologicalreid

with your hands tied by -//-

gypsophilia; honey by @ophelia-is-complex

accidents by @tinystarbites ✨

like the back of my hand by @spencerreidenjoyer

✧*̥˚ fluff *̥˚✧

sweet creature by @cowboy1ikereid

rite of passage by @foxy-eva

more than a woman by @anniebeemine

eyes in the sun by @planetpedri

market day by @cookiescribble

radiant by @reidmoony-toast

longing for you by @proseandpretrichor

all of the books besides your bed by @tlou-reid

sleep by @mindfullycriminal

✧*̥˚ angst/hurt/comfort *̥˚✧

of anything by @reidscanehand

always, i'll wait by @pathologicalreid

deprivation by @reiding-writing ✨

lucky by @reidmarieprentiss ✨

speciality by @imagining-in-the-margins

please let me be enough by @mindfullycriminal

✧*̥˚ honorable mentions *̥˚✧

him (one-shot series) by @godsfavdarling series masterlist I her masterlist

@mindfullycriminal I her masterlist

if you want your work removed, dm me!

[evolucious]

A Return of Care : Zayne x Reader

For a moment, the weight of the world seems to lift from his shoulders, and he’s just Zayne—your Zayne—who’s finally allowing himself to be cared for.

pairing : zayne x reader (no gender specific terms are used to describe the reader)

prompt : Zayne is, once again, working past his limits and finds himself sick. With a bit of coaxing he just might take care himself. (aka, zayne is sick but he says "nuh uh")

genre : sfw, fluff, slice of life, zayne please get some sleep, sick fic

word count : 2,976

a/n : oh wow did i finally return after months with another Zayne one shot? I sure did.

The soft chime of the hospital’s automated door echoes in the hallway as you step into the familiar space, your footsteps light against the polished floor. The box of macarons cradled in your arms smells sweet, a gift you picked up on your way over, a small token of appreciation for Zayne. You know how much he loves these, especially after a long day of seeing patients.

As you approach the reception desk, Yvonne, the staff nurse, looks up from her station with a warm smile. She recognizes you instantly—you’re practically a regular here, visiting Zayne for your routine check-ups or just to chat when he has a free moment.

“Hello, Yvonne,” you greet her, returning the smile. “I’m here for my 7:00 PM with Doctor Zayne.”

“Right on time, as usual,” she replies, tapping a few keys on her console. “I’ll page him to let him know you’re here.”

You nod, leaning against the counter as she sends the message. The familiar hum of the station’s systems thrums in the background, a constant reminder of the vastness of space just beyond the walls. You glance around, noting the quietness of the evening shift. The lobby is calm, most patients already seen and gone, leaving behind an air of peacefulness.

Yvonne looks up, a slight frown creasing her brow. “Strange… he’s not responding.”

You raise an eyebrow. Zayne is usually so prompt, always ready to greet you with his warm smile and steady presence. “Maybe he’s in with another patient?”

Yvonne shakes her head, her frown deepening. “His last appointment ended a while ago. But I’m sure he’s just caught up with some paperwork. You can go ahead and see him—he won’t mind.”

You hesitate for a moment, but the familiarity of your relationship with Zayne pushes the doubt aside. “Alright, thanks!”

She waves you off with a reassuring smile, and you make your way down the corridor, the path to Zayne’s office as familiar as your own home. The door to his office is slightly ajar, a sliver of light cutting through the dim hallway. You knock gently, waiting for the usual, cheerful “Come in!” that always follows. But today, there’s only silence. 

Worry knots in your stomach as you push the door open wider. The first thing that hits you is the warmth—the room feels stuffier than usual, almost stifling. As you step inside, the source of your concern becomes all too clear.

Zayne is slumped in his office chair, head tipped back, eyes closed in what looks like a fitful sleep. His usually smooth brow is furrowed, lines of discomfort etched into his features. His skin has a slight sheen to it, and his usually neat appearance is disheveled. A small collection of cough drop wrappers is scattered across his desk, and the wastebasket beside it is filled with used tissues. The sight sends a jolt of worry through you.

“Doctor Zayne?” you call softly, moving closer. When he doesn’t stir, you reach out, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “Zayne?”

His eyes flutter open, and it takes a moment for him to focus on you. When he does, he tries to sit up straighter, “You’re here early,” he rasps, his voice rough and strained.

“I’m right on time, actually,” you reply, concern lacing your words as you take a glance at the clock on the wall beside him. 

Zayne rubs a hand over his face as he clears his throat. “Yes well, please take a seat. Let's get started with your check-up”. He says, swiveling his office chair to drag a stool beside his desk before gesturing for you to sit. 

Before you can protest, he’s already reaching for your chart, fumbling slightly as he tries to pull it out of the stack on his desk. You can see the strain in his movements, the way his hands tremble slightly as he flips through the papers. He’s clearly pushing himself, trying to go through the motions despite his obvious illness.

“Zayne–” you say, your voice soft but firm. Despite being a few feet away from you Zayne carries on as though he didn’t hear you. He pulls out his stethoscope, clearly intent on examining you despite his condition. “Let me just—”

“Zayne, stop.” you plead, gently pushing the stethoscope back down. “You’re always telling me to rest, to take care of myself, but you’re obviously not doing the same. I know you want to work but you’re in no shape to help others right now. Don’t be a hypocrite, Zayne. Please, let me take you home so you can get some rest.”

He hesitates before looking directly at you for the first time this evening, his eyes searching yours as if trying to find the strength to argue but there’s a crack in his resolve, a momentary flicker of vulnerability and the weariness in his eyes makes your heart ache.

But then he shakes his head, grasping for excuses. “You must have rode your motorbike here. You cannot bring me home on that.”

“I walked,” you counter, undeterred. “And I even stopped to get macarons on the way.”

His eyes shift toward the box of macarons sitting on his desk, a brief flicker of interest breaking through his exhaustion. Zayne’s sweet tooth is one of the things you’ve always found endearing about him, and you can tell that the mention of his favorite treat has caught his attention.

You smile gently, teasing him just a little. “I was going to give them to you, but I don’t think you should have sugar given your current state.”

His stoic demeanor falters, a slight crack appearing in his resolve. It’s as if the macarons are the final straw, the deciding factor in this small battle of wills. He doesn’t say anything, but the way his shoulders sag and his eyes drop back to the desk tells you he’s given in.

He lets out a weary sigh and murmurs, “Just don’t drive my car the way you drive that bike.”

Your heart lifts with relief, and you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. “No promises,” you let out a soft chuckle, glad to see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

As soon as the apartment door closes behind you, Zayne seems to deflate, all the energy he had left draining away. He heads straight for the sofa, plopping down with a heavy sigh, his head resting against the back cushions. His eyes are half-closed, exhaustion etched into every line of his face.

“You know,” he murmurs, a faint smile playing on his lips, “your driving isn’t nearly as reckless as you like to pretend it is.”

You chuckle softly, sitting beside him on the sofa. “Only because I had precious cargo this time.”

He gives a small, appreciative hum, but it quickly dissolves into another cough. You watch him with concern as the fit passes, then reach out to brush a lock of hair away from his forehead. His skin is still warm, but the tension in his body seems to have eased a little now that he’s home.

“Why don’t you rest for a bit?” you suggest, your voice gentle. “I’ll make you something warm to drink. Take a shower and we then can eat those macarons together when you’re feeling up to it.”

Zayne opens one eye, peering at you with a look that’s both amused and resigned. “Only if you promise not to hoard them all for yourself.”

You laugh, the sound light and comforting in the quiet of the apartment. “Deal.”

As you rise to head to the kitchen, you glance back at him, knowing that you’ll do everything in your power to make sure he gets better—because, after all, Zayne is worth every bit of care and more.

The space is sleek and modern, with smooth countertops and neatly arranged appliances, but as you stand there, a realization hits you—you have no idea where anything is.

Your eyes scan the cabinets, trying to guess where Zayne might keep the tea. You hesitate, fingers hovering over the handle of a cupboard, unsure if it holds cups, plates, or something entirely unrelated. A small sigh escapes your lips as you inwardly curse your lack of foresight. How hard could it be to find a simple teapot in here?

Just as you’re about to open the wrong cabinet, you hear Zayne’s voice call out from the living room. “Top left, above the stove. Teapot’s in there. Tea’s in the drawer below.”

You freeze for a moment, slightly startled that he’d known exactly what you needed without even seeing you. It’s like he can read your mind—or maybe for some reason he’s just that familiar with how people fumble around in unfamiliar kitchens.

“Thanks!” you call back, relief flooding through you as you follow his instructions.

Sure enough, you find the teapot exactly where he said it would be, and the tea nestled in a drawer below. You set some water to boil, then rummage around for a mug, the task becoming easier now that you know where to look. As the water heats up, you glance back toward the living room, half-expecting Zayne to have dozed off again, but the faint sound of his cough reminds you that he’s still awake, though probably exhausted.

When the tea is ready, you carefully carry the steaming mug back to the living room. Zayne’s eyes open as you approach, a tired but grateful smile tugging at his lips. You hand him the mug, and he takes it with a murmured “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Dr. Zayne,” you reply with a mock-serious tone, sitting down beside him on the sofa. “Though I should let you know, I’m your attending physician now. I’ve learned from the very best as an intern, after all.”

Zayne arches an eyebrow at, the corner of his mouth quirking up in amusement. “Oh? And what does this new ‘attending physician’ believe is the diagnosis?”

You adopt a serious expression, holding out your hand as if it were a clipboard. “Let’s see…” you say, pretending to write on your palm. “The diagnosis is… one very stubborn doctor who refuses to rest when he’s sick.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he takes a sip of the tea. “I see. And what do you prescribe, Doctor?”

“I prescribe– a warm shower, cozy pajamas, and a strict order of rest. No exceptions.” you say firmly, finishing your fake note. 

Zayne’s eyes twinkle with amusement as he looks at you over the rim of the mug. “Sounds like a pretty detailed prescription. Are you sure it’s not too advanced for me?”

“Well,” you say, tapping your chin thoughtfully, “it’s a tough regimen, but I think you’ll manage. And if you don’t follow it, I might have to put you on an even stricter bedrest.”

Zayne chuckles again, the sound warm despite his rough voice. “You’re really getting into character, aren’t you?”

“Only because I had an excellent mentor,” you tease, giving him a playful nudge. “But seriously, Zayne– no more pushing yourself.”

For a moment, the teasing air between you fades, replaced by something softer, more earnest. Zayne looks at you, and though he doesn’t say anything, you can see the appreciation in his eyes. He knows you’re right, and even though he’s always been the one to take care of you, he’s beginning to let himself lean on you now.

There’s a vulnerability in his posture that tugs at your heartstrings, and without thinking, you reach out and gently place your hand on his forehead. His skin is warm beneath your touch, confirming what you already knew—he’s running a low fever.

Your hand drifts from his forehead to his cheek, your thumb brushing softly against his skin. “Zayne,” you murmur, your voice filled with concern, “I don’t like that you let yourself get like this”

Zayne’s eyes remain closed, but he leans into your touch, nuzzling his cheek against your hand in a gesture that’s both tender and weary. He lets out a low, affirming hum, a sound that’s as much a comfort to you as it is to him. For a moment, the weight of the world seems to lift from his shoulders, and he’s just Zayne—your Zayne—who’s finally allowing himself to be cared for.

After a moment, he reaches up and takes your hand from his cheek, holding it gently as he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. His eyes remain focused on your hand as he speaks, his voice soft but resolute. 

“Alright Doctor, I’ll follow your orders.”  he says, his tone carrying the weight of sincerity. “I promise.”

You smile at his words, knowing he means them, but also knowing that it might take some gentle reminders to make sure he follows through. “Good,” you whisper, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “That’s all I ask.” 

“Now, go take that shower. I’ll make sure everything’s ready for you when you’re done.” Zayne nods, setting the mug down on the coffee table before rising from the sofa. As he heads toward the bathroom, you can’t help but feel a surge of warmth in your chest. It’s a role reversal, but one that feels right. Zayne has always been there for you, and now, it’s your turn to return the favor, even if it means coaxing him into taking care of himself with a bit of playful banter.

As the sound of the shower starts up, you settle back on the sofa, feeling content in the knowledge that Zayne is finally letting himself rest—and that you’re the one making sure he does.

After opening the window to let some fresh air into the apartment, you stand there for a moment, debating whether you should stay and make sure Zayne gets to bed. The idea of leaving him alone doesn’t sit well with you, but something tells you that he’ll be alright. He’s taken care of you so many times before—maybe it’s time to trust that he can do the same for himself.

Your gaze drifts to the box of macarons on the coffee table. A small smile tugs at your lips as you pick up the box, thinking about how something so simple could bring him a moment of joy even when he’s feeling so run down. You can’t resist leaving a little surprise for him, so you carefully take out one macaron and place it on the kitchen counter where he’ll easily find it when he emerges from his shower.

With the rest of the macarons in hand, you head toward the door, glancing back at the closed bathroom door one last time. The sound of running water is still steady as you slip out of the apartment, closing the door gently behind you. Your steps are light as you make your way down the hallway and you can’t help but wonder if Zayne has felt this way each time he’s cared for you—leaving quietly after making sure you were settled in, with a warm heart and a lingering sense of connection.

The cool night air greets you as you step outside, and you breathe in deeply, feeling refreshed and content. The box of macarons in your hand is a small reminder of the connection you share with Zayne, and the thought of him finding the one you left behind brings a smile to your face.

The next morning, you wake to the sound of your alarm buzzing beside your bed. You groan softly, rolling over in your sheets as you burrow deeper into their warmth, reluctant to leave the comfort they offer. You’d been so exhausted when you got home that you fell asleep almost immediately, and now, the weight of that sleep is still heavy on you.

For a moment, you lie there, savoring the last remnants of drowsiness before you start your day. It’s your morning ritual—waking slowly, checking your notifications, and letting the world come into focus at your own pace.

You reach for your phone, swiping it off the nightstand and bringing it close as you scroll through the usual morning updates. Emails, a few messages, and then one that makes you pause. It’s from Zayne, sent last night after you’d already gone to bed.

With a mix of curiosity and anticipation, you open the message, feeling a small flutter in your chest as you wonder what he might have said.

The message from Zayne opens with a photo of the single macaron you left on his kitchen counter. Beneath the image is a teasing caption: “Is this how I’m rewarded for following doctor's orders?"

You can’t help but laugh softly as you read his message, imagining the expression that must have accompanied the text. You quickly type out a reply, your fingers moving swiftly over the screen.

“You know, most doctors give their patients one sticker on the way out for being good sports. What kind of doctor would I be if I didn’t give you a reward?", a smirk playing on your lips as you hit send.

It doesn’t take long for his response to come through. "Touché. When can I schedule my next routine checkup? Maybe I can earn some more."

You grin at the thought, leaning back against your pillow, you type your reply.

"I’ll have to check my schedule, I’m suuuuuuuper busy Doctor." 

With that, you set your phone aside and stretch, feeling a sense of contentment settle over you. Zayne’s message, as playful as it was, reassures you that he’s okay—and that he’s starting his recovery with a bit of lightheartedness, thanks to you.

It’s a good start to the day, and as you finally roll out of bed, you can’t help but feel a quiet satisfaction knowing that, this time, you were the one who got to take care of him

{pls dont repost i beg}

[sicktember]

While waiting for the Sicktember 2024, June 15th reveal, check out these past prompts and collections for inspiration!

Sicktember 2023 - 2021 Past Prompts and Collections

💚2023 💚

[AO3 Collection]

Prompts List ⬇

1. Hopelessly Bad at Self-Care

2. Quest for a Cure

3. “What happened to your phenomenal immune system, huh?”

4. Hiding an Illness

5. Preventative Measures (Not Taken)

6. Sick and Injured

7. “You’re a Jerk When You’re Sick”

8. Persistent Fever

9. White Coat Syndrome

10. “The only place we’re going is to the pharmacy”

11. Beginner’s Guide to Faking Sick

12. Old Wives Tale

13. Anxious Stomach

14. ‘‘I shouldn’t be worried about you, but for some reason I am’’

15. Sick in an Inconvenient Place

16. Consulting the Internet/Web MD

17. Magical Remedy/Healing Potion

18. “Wear Your Coat, You’ll Catch a Cold”

19. Curled Up With a Pet

20. Cramping Pain

21. “But if you stay, you’ll get sick too”

22. Terms of Endearment/Nicknames

23. Coughing Fit

24. “Did you just sneeze?”

25. Confused/Disoriented

26. Pink Eye/Conjunctivitis

27. Uncooperative Patient

28. “I should have stayed home”

29. Side Effects/Adverse Reaction

30. Patient 0

2023 Alternate Prompts

Alt. 1.“I Could Really Use a Hug Right About Now”

Alt. 2. Fuzzy Socks

Alt. 3. Pounding Headache

Alt. 4. Forehead Kisses

Alt. 5. “I’m so sorry”

💚2022💚

[AO3 Collection]

Prompt List ⬇

1. ‘Do You Know How To Take Care of a Sick Person?’

2.  Homesick

3.  Painkillers

4.  Hangover

5.  'Great. Now I Have Your Germs All Over Me.’

6.  Sick on vacation

7.  A cry for attention

8.  Intense coddling

9.  Home remedy

10. Excessive use of tissues/ ‘Blow Your Nose’

11. Emergency Room/ Ambulance

12. Psychogenic Fever/Stress Induced Illness

13. Seasonal/Pet Allergies

14. ‘I Might Be A Teeny Tiny Bit Sick, But It’s Fine.’' 

15. Frostbite/Sunburn

16. Care Package

17. Syncope/Fainting

18. Nausea/Upset Stomach

19. Whining/Crying 

20.  Cold Sweat

21. ‘Does this look infected to you?’

22. Common Cold/Flu

23. Tepid Bath

24. ‘I Need You To Pull Over!’

25. Acid Reflux/Heartburn

26. Tickle in the Throat

27. Sleepless Night/s

28. Chronic Illness

29. Lethargy/Exhaustion

30. ‘Get Back in Bed!’ 

2022 Alternate Prompts:

Alt. 1. Soft Pajamas

Alt. 2. Vapor Rub

Alt. 3. Cuddling on the Couch

Alt. 4. Taking a Sick Day

Alt. 5. ‘Can You Be Brave For Me?’

💚2021💚

[AO3 Collection]

Prompt List ⬇

1. Fever

2. Persistent Cough/Sniffling.

3. Chicken Pox/Rash 

4. Headache/Migraine

5. Comfort Item (Plush/Blanket)

6. Nebulizer

7. Sneaky Temperature Check

8. Contagious

9. I’m Not Sick

10. Medicine/Injection

11. Bed Rest

12. Faking it

13. Appendicitis

14. Aches and Pains

15. Quarantine 

16. Hot Water Bottle

17. Ginger Ale and Crackers

18. Fever Dream/Hysteria

19. Addiction

20. Doctor’s Visit/Check Up

21. Unlikely Caregiver

22. Toothache

23. Ear Infection

24. Sneezing

25. Sick at School/Work

26. Strep Throat/Laryngitis

27. Blankets

28. Missing Out 

29. Motion Sickness

30. Food poisoning/Allergy

2021 Alternative Prompts:

Alt. 1:  Warm Soup

Alt. 2:  Too Many Layers

Alt. 3:  Vitamin C

Alt. 4:  Stay

Alt. 5:  Asleep on the Couch

[takeyourdailydoseofcyanide]

Icky

This fic/prompt(s) was requested by @bloodheartz

AO3

Fandom: Soul Eater

Character(s): Franken Stein, Spirit Albarn

Word Count: 1 600

Tags: Sickfic, Illnesses, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff

Summary: Spirit finds that Stein is very ill and takes care of him. I made Stein a pathetic little meow meow in this.

Notes: Writing Prompt: Sickfic + Fluff: is someone sleepy? + I can’t even talk properly. Stein + Spirit. (Non-specified)

Stein audibly, though quietly groaned into the fluffiness of his pillow as glimpses of the morning sunrise peaked through his window. He shuffled under the covers, kicking his legs, unable to find a comfortable positions. In fact, he hadn’t managed to get comfortable the entire night.

He spent the hours he was meant to be resting tossing and turning, and frankly, repressing something akin to a childish outburst, a tantrum. Every time he’d wrap himself in his comforter, he’d heat up to the point of being drenched in sweat, but the very moment he even so much as stuck a foot out from underneath the pile of blankets, he’d freeze. Not to mentioned, the incessant pounding in his head and eyes that even a good dose of ibuprofen couldn’t quell. His throat felt as though it had shut entirely, swallowing being the most painful and icky sensations in the world. Icky. That was a great word to describe his current predicament.

He felt icky every time he’d cough weakly, his chest (and of course his throat, as well) aching violently as he’d pitifully whine. He felt icky lying on his now sweat-soaked sheets, though somehow he was still shivering. He felt icky every time a pang of nausea decided to torture him, his stomach churning for no apparent reason at all. He just felt horrendously, demonstrably icky in a way he hadn’t in a long time.

“Stein?” He threw the covers over his head, hushing his own whimper, as his weapon repeatedly banged on the door… or at least to Stein’s head it felt like banging. In reality, it was something closer to gentle knocks than anything. But when with each hit of his fist against the door, his temples seemed to pulsate in unison, he felt it would be reasonable to label it as ‘banging.’

“I made breakfast!”

“…”

“Stein?”

Spirit, according to Stein’s expectations, rattled the doorknob, flinging his door open, as he leaned against its frame.

“Awe, is someone sleepy?” He drawled teasingly, mockingly. His voice was dripping with sarcastic mirth, as he chuckled.

Stein resorted to groaning, leaving his throat in shambles, as it reverberated, bouncing off of its mucus-coated and inflamed walls, and out of his mouth.

“Well, get up. I made food for the both of us, I don’t want it to go to waste.”

Albarn marched right on up to his bed, standing beside him. He cruelly pulled on the top of the comforter, ripping it down, as to get a better look at his grumpy partner.

Truly, there was a part of him that was stricken with concern, as typically, he’d be the first to wake up.. that is, if he’d fallen asleep at all. By now, he’d, on any other given day, be pacing around, circling his usual route. He’d often get a little irritated when that routine of his was interrupted, when Spirit attempted to pull him out of his head and thrust him into reality.. but he’d never moan unhappily and annoyedly about just coming to eat some breakfast with him.

“Wow, Stein, you look horrible,” his eyes widened at the sight before him. His meister’s face was disturbingly pallid, though flushed simultaneously, even the tips of his ears a reddish-pinkish color. His bangs were mussed completely down, beads of sweat unpleasantly decorating his forehead. His lips looked drier than the desert they lived in, his beet-red nostrils coated in uncomfortable-seeming flakes. “Did you get any sleep at all?”

He shook his head ‘no,’ unconsciously pouting, his hands cradling a thick chunk of his blanket for any trace of comfort he could get.

Upon observing his partner’s appearance and his sudden behavioral quirks, there was no doubt in Spirit’s mind about just how terribly he must’ve felt.

“Does your throat hurt?”

He nodded. “I… c’nt even.. talk…. properly.”

Spirit kneeled down a little closer to Stein, placing his hand over his damp forehead. He leaned into the touch, each and every last inch of the scythe’s skin frigid in the most delectable way possible.

“God, you’re warm,” he stepped back, shaking his head in a mixture of worry and disbelief. “I’m gonna go get you some medicine and water-“

“No,” he released a pained whimper.

“I know you don’t want to swallow anything right now, but you should know better than anyone that that is the only way you’re going to feel better… besides resting, obviously.”

Stein begrudgingly lifted a hand, massaging his temples in hopes he’d receive attention from his weapon, that he’d pick up on his nonverbal cue.

“Your head hurts, too?”

And he picked up on it, fortunately.

“That figures… See? That’s why you need medicine. I’ll even bring you the pancakes I made if you’re hungry,” he stepped farther and farther away from Stein.

“Naus..eous..”

“I can bring you something for that, too. Once you’re feeling better, I want you to eat,” he sternly, yet rather gently stated, walking out of the room. “I’m gonna go get you some medicine now, okay? Don’t.. kill yourself or anything- I don’t know.”

-

The sound of a glass thunking against Stein’s nightstand had his eyes shooting open, as he came to. He hadn’t even realized he’d closed his eyes, though evidently he’d fallen asleep for the minute or two Spirit had left him to his own devices.

“I know you’re probably exhausted, Stein, but I need you to take this stuff before you fall asleep, okay?”

He nodded his head obediently. And that’s when it really hit Spirit how delirious he must’ve been, because ‘obedient’ is a word no one on the face of the planet would ever use to describe his meister.

“I brought a thermometer, too… Do you wanna start with that since it’s easier?”

“Mhm,” he huffed out pathetically.

“I need you to sit up, okay?”

“‘Kay.”

He managed to position himself upward, though not without fervently grimacing. He leaned on the wall behind him for balance and comfort, his bedroom spinning in disorienting circles, his body heavy and weak.

His eyelids began to shut once more, being startled open by the coolness of a thermometer underneath his tongue.

“I know, I know,” Spirit cooed sympathetically at the whined objection Franken had apparently produced. “This’ll be quick, I promise.”

The thermometer soon beeped, Albarn removing the instrument carefully as to not disturb Stein too much.

“Jeez…”

“Hm?”

“104.3… If your fever doesn’t go down soon after you take that shit, I’m taking you to the doctor’s..”

“No…”

“Yes… That’s why you’re going to be cooperative with me about taking some medicine, right?”

“..M..kay.”

“All right, good.”

Spirit fetched one of the many pills he’d left neatly on the nightstand, holding it out towards Stein, of whom, once again, merely obediently complied, taking it from him, placing it hesitantly in his mouth.

“Do you think you can hold the glass by yourself?” He asked, noticing the tremors in the younger’s hands, and really, his whole body.

He shook his head ‘no,’ appearing particularly bashful about admitting that he needed help.

“That’s perfectly fine! Here,” he lifted the glass to his lips, tilting it slowly upwards.

He placed the cup back onto the nightstand once Stein had a decent mouthful of water, muttering a gentle command of, “Now, swallow.”

And with a violent scowl and grimace, he did, with much difficulty, manage to swallow.

“Ah, good job, Stein! I’m so proud of you,” he ran his fingers soothingly through his wet, silver hair, pushing his bangs to the side, as he voiced his affection, having noticed his meister quickly beginning to tear up after swallowing, though he tried desperately to suppress those tears.

“Icky,” he mumbled.

“I know, I’m sorry. I only have one more for you to take, okay?”

“Wha… was that?”

“The pill, you mean?”

“Mhm.”

“Just some Motrin. The other one is Zofran, so that’ll be better, since it.. y’know, dissolves.” Spirit grabbed the Zofran tablet, handing it to Stein.

“Dizzy,” murmured Franken, as he placed it apprehensively underneath his tongue. “…’N weak.”

“You can lay down as soon as that tablet dissolves, okay? I swear.”

He nodded understandingly.

-

“Has it dissolved already?” Spirit questioned, watching as Stein wordlessly shifted, maneuvering himself under the covers.

Albarn, once his meister had gotten as comfortable as he could in his current state, sat next to him on the edge of his bed, helping to prop him up on multiple different pillows as he hacked and groaned, grasping at his chest.

“Mhm,” he hummed quietly in response, his eyes just about immediately rolling into the back of his head.

The sight itself made Spirit feel upset for him. He was visibly so tired, and it was clear the rest he’d get would likely not do much to help him in the short term.

He placed a hand on his head, his fingers scratching tenderly at his scalp, lulling him into a hopefully deep slumber.

“You’ll feel better sooner than you know it,” he reassured under his breath. “This’ll pass in no time.”

“…… Hope so,” he croaked, his eyes completely shut, as he grabbed fistfuls of his blanket once again, cuddling with the dense clump.

Stein, for the last time that morning, emitted a strained and clearly painful cough, sniffling for the umpteenth time, yet another whimper gracing his lips. He did not allow it to interrupt his slinking away into sleep, however, and neither did Spirit, of whom continued to run his fingernails through his hair, shushing his almost noiseless cries.

Stein, for the first time that morning, felt somewhat content, even despite the ickiness.

[strangesthirdeye]

Husband material ( DS x Wife! Reader)

summary: nothing can compete with Stephen with how he treats the woman of his dreams who is sick.

Warning: it's Defender Strange he's a husband material. Fluff, cuddle, warm, love, sick.

As usual, I'm sorry if there are any wrong sentences or typos or grammatical mistakes, please forgive me and again English is not my first language, so I try to improve my language and writing in this way.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You've had a fever for 5 days which is kinda suck because you've been stuck in bed for 5 days. You are unable to wake up (stand up), eat or sleep well because of how uncomfortable your body is now, plus the temperature of your body temperature does not decrease. This made Stephen worry about your condition.

Sometimes he helps you by making some potions to reduce your body discomfort but it doesn't work and it takes a long time to recover or to make the potions. But there is time, Stephen puts his hand on your back and activates a warm energy through your body to help you sleep soundly.

Although Stephen is always busy with his defenders work, he is good at dividing his time to help you during these 5 days, for example like today.

Stephen was supposed to teach some classes today but due to some of his students volunteering to help a village that needs help, he has time to help you recover from your fever. Such as today, Stephen decided to cook chicken porridge for you because Stephen knows that your body is still not strong enough to eat chewy food so porridge is the first food he can think of. Plus, he still remembers his family's recipes so he has the advantage of cooking food for you to eat in the hope that you get well soon.

After Stephen finished cooking the chicken porridge, he then brought the food tray to the bedroom that you and Stephen shared.

Stephen opened the room door with Levi's help and entered the dim room. Stephen knew that you are quite sensitive to sunlight right now so he doesn't care about the atmosphere in his room now. So without a second thought he walked over to the bed where you were sleeping now. A thick blanket over your body makes you look a bit small and drown in the thickness of the blanket. Your forehead was visibly wet with sweat while your breath was a little labored because how bad your nose is now that it's full of mucus and makes it hard for you to breathe because your nose is blocked with mucus and prevents you from smelling anything around you.

Stephen then put the tray of food on the table next to the bed and kneeled on the side of your bed and stroked your head gently.

"Darling, wake up. You need to eat." Stephen whispered in that deep baritone voice.

You groaned softly then sighed heavily before slowly opening your eyes. When your eyes can fully open, you are greeted by the handsome face of your husband by your side who looks concerned.

"hey" Stephen whispered then pushed a few stray strands of your hair that framed half your face to your ear.

"hey" you replied in your raspy voice.

"How did you sleep? Is it good or not?" Stephen stroke your hair.

"a little bit but still good. Thanks to the spell you put. i feel a little bit good" you rasped.

Stephen nodded and helped you sit up. You groaned in discomfort.

Stephen then turned on the table lamp and looked at you with concern then reached for a cup filled with water and handed it to you. You took the cup and sipped the water until it ran out. You then gave the cup back to Stephen and sighed with relief after being able to relieve your dry throat.

"you need to eat so I made chicken porridge for you. Thanks to my old family recipes that I still remember" Stephen held the bowl of porridge in his hand.

You nodded without protest. Stephen then brought the spoon containing the porridge and fed it to you. Although the porridge is a little hot, it tastes very good for your current situation. You hummed with satisfaction. Stephen then kept feeding you the porridge until it was half gone because you couldn't eat anymore because you were worried you would throw up. With that Stephen put the half finished porridge back on the table and stroked your hair.

"Are you sure you don't want to eat anymore? There's only a little left to finish" Stephen said lowly.

"I'm afraid I'll throw up so it's better to eat half" you mumbled.

"need anything? like shower? massage your body? take medicine or more spell for comfort?" Stephen offered to you. His hand is still stroking your hair.

You shook your head. "No, but I want to cuddle with you" you replied while holding Stephen's hand that was stroking your hair.

"well I can't refuse that offer" Stephen then got up and lay down next to you while hugging your body and bringing your body close to his body.

Stephen then put your head on his chest and put his face close to the top of your hair and kiss a few times, every once in a while he took a long breath to smell your scent.

"this is nice" you mumbled into your husband's chest.

"yes, you are right..it is nice,Mrs Strange"

[witnessmysin]

I don't remember how often I spoke about this nor how many people knew I was in vet school for the past few years. I felt like maybe I should say something because its big and I'm so happy and want to share.

I finally graduated this September. I am now officially a Doctor!!

[blackcat2907]

A Father Ratio sick fic! Enjoy! I shall see you all in a week!

[soapy-soartp]

Day 11 of @whumperless-whump-event

Day: 11 - A MINOR ANNOYANCE (late entry!)

Prompt: Stuffy nose / Hate to be sick / "I'm fine, I can work."

Fandom: Honkai Star Rail

Characters: Aventurine and Dr. Ratio

Aventurine wanted to pay a visit to his dear doctor, after all he had to thank him for the cat cakes! He lets him in, having gotten a spare key to the other’s home after an… unfortunate incident during a lonely night that left him in a dire state.

“Ratio?” Aventurine asks, as he looks into the doctor's house.

Strangely enough the entirety of the doctor's house was shrouded in darkness, the only light a warm yellow coming from the study. Plus uncharacteristically of his good doctor, the home was in disarray(well not to the typical person's eyes but to the Dr. it definitely was).

So he sneakily crept further in, picking things up off the floor on his way to the purple haired man's vast study room and home office.

“Veritas?” He asks, peeking into the only lit room.

“Mmhg?” Was grunted at him while he sees the doctor’s slumped over form sit up and stretch.

He lets a sound close to a snort, it isn’t very often he catches his doctor sleeping on his job, he’s typically very diligent! But as he gets closer he starts noticing things, the others tense shoulders, the sniffing, the real pain behind the grimace he always seems to wear. Well, he understands the situation perfectly now.

“Veri…still grading papers huh?” He says tentatively, while peering over the doctors desk at the scattered papers on it.

He gets a hum and then the purple haired man is back to slouching over, his head in his hands. Which concern’s Aventurine more, he hums back and hovers his hands on the doctors tense shoulders.

“How long have you been doing this?” He asked softly, hovering just behind the doctor.

“… Doesn't matter, I gotta finish this,” was the slightly slurred and stuffy response from his obviously sick and in pain partner.

“Veritas, your literally a doctor in medicine, among other things, you-“ he tries to reason but he was cut off.

“I can keep working!” Was petulantly said, while the doctor pouted like a child and continued to struggle reading whatever it was his students wrote.

Aventurine sighed and layed a soft hand on the doctors shoulder, seeing that he didn’t cause a negative reaction he begins to message the stiff shoulders lightly. In response the other immediately relaxed into hsi chair, showing exactly how tired he really was, despite the situation the blonde couldn't help but laugh.

“C’mon I’ll run you a hot bath, that’ll help you relax and sleep, yeah?”

[pandagobrr]

Okay so this took a while, what with school starting up and my brain not cooperating with me, but here it is! And boy is it a doozy, the longest chapter yet.

[bugbytez13]

Did the recent quests and holy shit, Dr. Ratio is so pretty. I imagine he's the kinda guy that wears that sculpture mask to hide how he looks when hes sick 👀👀

AHHH YES! he’s def the kind of guy to just ignore his illness and hide it from everyone else, and his sculpture masks just make it so much easier! to his benefit and his detriment as well 😭 he’s probably the type of guy to think it helps keep others from getting sick… and maybe it does but since it’s over his entire face it does not help him AT ALL! god i lobe this guy

[bebx]

Relationship: Daniel Harrow & Simon Van Reyk

Summary:

Harrow catches a cold and decides to make it everybody's problem... especially Simon's.

[codiecoda]

Airsick - Rick Flag Sr./Alexander Sartorius | Doctor Phosphorus Focused Sickfic

Phosphorus ends up getting sick on the plane

[vicvinegarandhughhoney]

Whumpril Day 15- Alt Prompt 4: No Appetite

Hey, you want a cheese fry?”

Dr Gallant shoves the little cardboard receptacle underneath Coop’s nose, and Neela sees him blanch. His fist jumps up to his mouth.

Oh.

OR

Coop goes out to a work gathering with the stomach flu.

[deansaddiction]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy, James T. Kirk & Leonard "Bones" McCoy Characters: James T. Kirk, Leonard "Bones" McCoy Additional Tags: Sickfic, Sick James T. Kirk, James T. Kirk Whump Summary:

Sometimes being a diplomat has its drawbacks. After eating something on an alien planet, Kirk isn't feeling too good. Bones is there to look after him. Just some good old friendship hurt/comfort but can be McKirk if you squint.

[drc00l4tt4]

Pla do a POV of melvinborg comforting Y/N cause they're sick

Melvinborg x Reader;;

Lovesick

SICKFIC REQUEST HELL YEAH. Also this took so long to finish I apologize

You laid in bed and groaned, running your fingers through your hair. You were sick- extremely sick. You felt like you were on fire. Dramatic, yes, but accurate.

You sighed and pulled out your phone, not having the energy to get out of bed or shout for your husband (Melvin) to come help you. He was currently down in your shared lab working on an invention commission. You sent a message to him, your fingers wobbling with each tap. Your text read; "Heyy honey, im siccj, coukd you bribg up some medicine please? Thankg you 💕"

Within a minute you could hear fastly approaching footsteps coming to your room. The door opened moderately quickly and soon Melvin was by your side. "I'm here," he spoke softly, gently stroking your hair. "Mm.. You got here.. fast." You muttered, your voice hoarse. You began coughing, which prompted Melvin to start preparing the medicine for you to take. "Of course. You're my partner, I want to take care of you when you need me, that's my job. Well- metaphorically. It doesn't feel like a job, that's not what I meant," Melvin continued rambling on and on while you just listened to his voice without paying attention to what he was actually saying.

"Anyhow, I need you to sit up." Melvin stated. You did as requested, sitting up while slouching a bit. "Make sure you swallow all of it or it won't help." He said while putting a spoonful of liquid medicine to your lips. You took it without fuss but immediately started coughing once it was down.

"Ew! Ew ew ew- nasty-" You complained, which caused Melvin to start laughing lightly. "Do you think my suffering is funny, Mr. Sneedly?" You asked in a joking tone, your voice still hoarse. "Yes, Mx. Sneedly, I think it's hilarious." He teased. You let out a fake offended noise before going straight into another coughing fit.

"Alright, alright, enough talking, lay down." Melvin stated through light chuckles, gently pushing you back until you were laying down on the bed once again. "But I don't wannaaaa," You whined. "Well you gottaaa, you stale muffin. If you don't, you'll feel worse." He said, gently pushing down on your shoulder so you couldn't attempt to get back up.

"You're meaaan," You grumbled. "And you're sick." Melvin sighed, "Please just rest. I'll.. I'll spend all day with you tomorrow if you rest now, okay?" He said, attempting to bribe you with the idea of spending extra time with him. It worked; you relaxed on the bed with a dramatic sigh. "Fiiine.. Hmph."

Melvin smiled softly and gently played with your hair, watching as you relaxed more due to the affection. He knew you basically melted when he gave you plenty of attention and affection, so that was his method of 'bait' to get you to relax for the time being.

"Waitt, if you're near me, won't you get sick tooo?" You asked, sniffling as you began to feel congested. "Depends on if you choose to sneeze on me. As long as you don't sneeze or cough on me, I'll be okay. My immune system is much stronger than yours because of my cybernetics actually. The nerves on my robotic side can't hold in germs, so.." His voice became a blur to you as he continued rambling, and you became more tired.

You slowly but surely fell asleep to his voice. You could feel his human hand playing with your hair as he spoke, and you drifted off.