#he's so red you'd think hes gonna die from a fever

[bluehourgarden]

Okay. Alright. Hirano I'm throwing rocks at your window PLEASE TELL ME HOW THIS IS JUST SENPAI BEHAVIOR TO YOU???

[laylaackles]

Idk if you’re taking requests but for the longest time i’ve been thinking of Sam Winchester x Reader with the sex pollen trope.

Reader is dazed with the pollen and needs to release, Sam and reader have always had some tension between them and this is finally when they indulge in each other

🤭

Sex Pollen (Sam Smut)

Warnings: Smut, Oral(F), Reader is cursed by sex pollen

You and Sam were on a case. You were hunting down a witch who was cursing people. The witch blew some red dust into your face, right before Sam shot her.

You felt fine at first. But now, there's an ache between your legs. Arousal is soaking your underwear, as the two of you drive back to the motel. You know exactly what she did to you.

Sex pollen.

The only way to cure it, is to fuck it out of your system. Or else, you die from pain and fever.

You tried not to squirm, but it was almost impossible. You felt like you could cum untouched, but that wouldn't do you any good.

The two of you finally pulled into the motel parking lot. As you made your way to the room, you started feeling hot. Your skin was on fire. You felt like you were going to explode.

"Sam?" You spoke.

"Yeah?"

"I um, I need your help." You said.

There's been lots of sexual tension between the two of you for months now, but you never acted on it. This is literally a life or death situation. If Sam doesn't help with this, you'll die. You'd much rather break the tension with him, then die. Especially knowing you could've saved yourself.

"With what?" He asked.

"I need you to fuck me." You said.

You couldn't think straight. The lust was clouding your brain. Or else you probably would've been a little more subtle.

"What?"

"That witch. She gave me sex pollen." You said.

"Oh shit." He said.

"Please, Sam. I can't take it." You begged.

"Y/n, are you sure?"

You started removing your clothes. Your skin felt so hot you couldn't bear having them on anymore.

"Yes. Sam, I need you, please." You begged.

"Okay, okay."

Sam began removing his clothes as well. He was already half hard from your begging and stripping.

When you were both fully undressed, you took a moment to admire each other's bodies.

"God, if I wasn't so desperate, I think I'd stop and kiss you all over." You said.

Your sentences were practically coming out as wines.

"Trust me. When the pollen is gone, we're gonna have lots of time to explore." He said.

Sam closed the gap that was between the two of you. His lips found yours, and when they connected, it was like the curse was starting to ease. But it wasn't enough. You had to have an orgasm to fully rid the curse.

Sam had his back to the bed, so you gently moved him backward and pushed him down so you could straddle him.

As the two of you made out, you wrapped your hand around his cock, and guided it to your waiting, dripping entrance.

You lifted your hips, then sank down onto him. You sighed at the feeling of being so full. The feeling of finally having something inside you.

You began to grind back and forth. Then you added in lifting up and down. It was nice, but it wasn't enough to relieve the ache your body was feeling.

"Sam?"

"Yeah?" He asked.

"I need you to fuck me. I need you to do it fast. Please I need this feeling to go away." You begged.

At this point, the pollen had taken over your whole body, and the lust was staring to mix with pain. You didn't have much time left to get rid of the curse.

Sam didn't say a word. He stood up with you in his arms, then without removing his cock from you, flipped you guys so that you were on your back and he was hovering over you.

This position was basic, but it allowed you to feel his cock way better than before. You felt the tip hit your g-spot as he began to thrust in and out. You felt every detail of it as it slid back and forth.

You really got to enjoy how big he was from this position. Sam's pace picked up. You asked him to fuck you fast. So he did.

He could feel you squeezing his cock. He knew you wouldn't last much longer. Especially with the pollen affecting you.

"Fuck Sam." You moaned.

Sam's cock started to throb. You were squeezing him so tight he could barely hold his orgasm off.

Neither of you had been so close to cumming so fast. But lust will do that to you.

"Cum for me Y/n." He said.

He barely got the words out before you came. Your orgasm ripped through you, triggering his.

As you were cumming, your body temperature cooled down and you started to feel normal again.

Sam kept thrusting, but he slowed his pace down until both of you were satisfied.

Sam pulled out, then laid down next to you to catch his breath.

"That was intense." He said.

"I agree. Thanks for helping me." You said.

"No problem. Maybe I can do it again sometime." He winked.

You smiled, and then the two of you got cleaned up and decided to get the hell out of this town. That was enough sex pollen for one day.

LA<3

[ethereousdelirious]

Theydies and gentlethems...... I'm back

Word count: 3k

Series: Bl.ack B.utler

Pairing: pre-G.relliam (requited unrequited)

Featuring: mostly fever, a few bonus sneezes just 'cause

Warnings: brief mention of v.omiting, but like so brief that I'm not even gonna slap an 'e.meto' tag on this

Other: Lightly based on a prompt by @.victoriablackrose

Grell's assignment was waiting for her on her desk when she arrived at headquarters. She disregarded it immediately and turned her head toward William's office, where all that awaited her was a closed door. No light emanated from cracks and even the nameplate had a forbidding look to it. Devoid of life.

Ignoring the shuffle of her dull, black-suited coworkers, she dropped her gaze once more to the assignment. Someone had tucked a sheet of paper into the To-Die List. A memo from upper management.

She pulled it out, her mouth twisted into a shape that promised future wrinkles.

Memo

From the desk of: Harry Hargraves

Attn: Soul Retrieval

Reaper Spears is out sick today. Kindly attend to your assignments and place your reports in his inbox for later collection and review. Direct any questions to Floor 13.

"Got the memo, I see." Ronald's hand appeared in Grell's field of vision, splayed on the edge of her desk. "I heard there was a flu going around the lower floors. Shame it's made its way up here."

"I don't like it," Grell said slowly, staring at the words 'out sick.'

Ronald chuckled. "Well. Best wishes for good health."

"No—" Grell raised her head, her fist tensing around the memo. It wrinkled in her grip. "William doesn't call off sick."

"What, never? He hates it here. You'd think he'd be grateful for some time off."

"Never," she answered solemnly. "Has no one told you about the Infamous Fever Christmas?"

Ronald sat down on the edge of Grell's desk, picture-perfect nonchalance. "As a matter of fact, no one has."

--

Winter was the busiest time of year for Soul Retrieval, made busier still by the human illnesses that frequently managed to infect their ranks in the colder months.

That particular Christmas was shaping up to be the busiest on record, with over half the Retrieval division out sick and a record death toll on the books.

Grell had been struck down with the flu in late November and found herself picking up slack for the whole of December, though not so much so that she couldn't attend to William, who had been picking up more.

He had waved her off with increasing irritation those three days leading up to Christmas, though his voice grew fainter and his cheeks grew paler in a steady march toward infirmity.

On Christmas, he was there early with red cheeks and a miserable cough, nearly swooning when he got up to give Grell her assignment.

He caught himself on her desk, barking coughs into the back of his other hand. At this distance, the strain on his face was perfectly evident. All his hair was wet with perspiration and even his collar was damp with it where it met the back of his neck.

Grell thought to rise and put a hand on his back, but couldn't get up without bumping into him. So she waited, barely daring to breathe, and watched the tears run down his cheeks.

"Your assignment," he said listlessly when the fit had passed. He didn't look at her. "Measure your time wisely. If you can't write a report, send a message to me directly and I will write it off the Cinematic Record." He paused to catch his breath, stiffening his arm against the desk to counteract his swaying. "Do you understand?"

"William…" was all she could manage for a moment. He closed his eyes, brow furrowed.

There was no argument to be made and they both knew it. The barren office stretched out behind them, what few Reapers remained preparing for their punishing shifts in the snow. It was a small mercy that William would remain indoors with their paperwork.

"William," she tried again, a million sentiments of concern and affection battling on her tongue. "Have you taken your temperature?"

He answered without opening his eyes. "That's not your concern." He looked at her sternly, his chest rising and falling far too rapidly. "Do you understand the assignment, Reaper Sutcliff?"

"I— Well, but—" Their hands were tied, but Grell had always preferred to be the one holding the ropes. "I'll come check on you."

"Do not," William began, and had to pause to cough again. "Do not allow your feelings to jeopardize your work." His breathing sped up further and his posture slipped until Grell was sure her desk was the only thing keeping him upright. Still, head hanging, he did his duty. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, Will. I understand."

No one had ever accused Grell Sutcliff of having a poor work ethic. Her morning consisted of back-to-back corpses and she scarcely thought of Will save for the occasional pangs of guilt when she had to skip out on a mission report. But there were so many souls to be reaped that she couldn't possibly hope to complete all her paperwork. So off it went, all of it landing squarely on William's shoulders.

Grell, at least, was scheduled for a reprieve in the early afternoon. She raced back to the office like the hounds of hell were after her, only pausing to loot the Infirmary before she stormed into William's office, thermometer in hand.

He winced when the door hit the wall, but did not pause for a moment. The light of a Cinematic Record flickered in his glasses. His nose was hidden behind a white handkerchief, but below it, Grell could see his mouth hanging open.

"Don't," he said, pen never stopping on its journey across the page.

Grell slipped the thermometer in his open mouth. He made a noise of disapproval and cleared his throat, but that was all.

It wasn't in Grell's nature to keep quiet for so long, but she stifled all her words of concern and satisfied herself straightening the files on Will's desk and moving his inkwell so he didn't have to reach so far for it. His whole arm shook whenever he extended it.

The mercury rose.

Grell's heart rate crept higher with the line, ramping up until she could feel it rushing in her ears. She didn't know why. It wasn't like it mattered, not really. If William could hold a pen, he would keep writing. That was all there was to it.

Still, she watched the thermometer, pulling it out of William's mouth the moment she was satisfied it had registered.

"Running hot," she sang, masking her dismay.

"I don't care," William mumbled.

"40.1," she said.

He doubled over to cough, shooing away the Cinematic Record. He sounded really terrible, like he could scarcely draw in a full breath before his body forced it out again. Desperate, wrenching, vulnerable.

It made Grell sick to her stomach, but she wasn't the one gagging on air.

"Get…" Will murmured breathlessly. "G-get… Nn…" He straightened with a visible effort and picked up his pen. "Get back to work. Respect your fellow Reapers."

"My dear," said Grell, crossing her arms, "I'm beginning to think you respect them a little too much."

He waved his hand at her.

Dismissal.

She turned to go.

Her second reprieve came mid-afternoon, and she was off at a run before she even thought to wipe the blood off her chainsaw. It dripped behind her as she ran and left pretty red spatters on the marble.

William smeared them with his feet, meeting her halfway across the office with his head down and fists clenched. Without a second thought, she turned and followed him.

He made straight for the restrooms, knocking into desks and walls as he went, disappearing behind the door.

She listened without flinching to the sounds of William getting sick, though the attack was short-lived, almost perfunctory. Barely three minutes passed before he emerged with his damp face as white as his shirt and a persistent tremor in his legs. He came over dizzy almost at once and she had to lunge forward to keep him from falling.

"D-don't have time—" he said hoarsely.

"I really think you've done enough," she answered. "If upper management knew the state you were in…"

He shook his head and eased a little weight off her, but not all of it. "They're already threatening—" he paused for breath— "disciplinary action… for the whole floor… we're behind quota…"

Grell imagined driving the teeth of her chainsaw straight into Hargraves' face. It made her smile a little, or at least bare her teeth. "Back to your desk, then, love," she said.

He recovered himself a little on their way back, but (she noticed with pleasure), kept hold of her arm. She sat him down at his desk and watched him struggle with his straight pen, unable to pick it up without dropping it.

"I hope you're planning on spending the night in the Infirmary," she said, crossing her arms.

William only shrugged at her, seeming to have come back to himself a bit. "It's not your concern," he mumbled.

She huffed. "'Not my concern,' he says. With a 40-degree fever and all. Whose concern will it be when you collapse in here?"

"God's, if you like," he answered drily. A Cinematic Record began to whir. Grell sniffed and turned on her heel to leave.

The end of the day found Grell exhausted, bloodied, trudging back to the office with her chainsaw dragging on the ground behind her. A few other Reapers milled about the office, murmuring about work, about their reports, about William, who was still in his office.

She would have asked for an update were it not for the breathy, desperate coughs emanating from the open door. Ignoring her own body aches, she strode in with her hips swinging.

William, red-faced, looked up from his paperwork. "Sutcliff," he said with none of his usual irritation. He blinked slowly, too many times. "What?"

She let her chainsaw dissipate and planted her hands on her hips. "I'm here to help if you're not done already."

Now he didn't blink, staring right through her with glossy eyes. "Help?"

A long pause.

He shook himself and gestured vaguely at the disorderly stack of paperwork on the edge of his desk. "...my outbox." Chest-rattling coughs bent him forward and he didn't elaborate further.

The weight of the files was nothing compared to her Death Scythe, but still her arms shook with the effort of carrying it all the few steps to William's outbox. It took her three trips and Will coughed the whole time.

He stopped with a choked gasp and slumped forward and Grell lunged to keep his head from hitting the desk. He made no effort to sit back up, though the slight vocalizations with every breath made it clear he was still conscious.

The scorching heat of his forehead warmed Grell's hand even through her thick leather glove. She stroked his cheek with her thumb. William needed to lie down, needed to sleep. His office was too small to accommodate much furniture other than a desk and three chairs, so he had no sofa. Otherwise she might have left him there and sent for a doctor. But as it was, he would have had to stretch out on the floor, and he'd never allow that, not unless he was dying.

"Can you stand?" Grell asked finally. "It's over; I'm taking you to the Infirmary."

Will made a noise as though to answer, but no word formed. He hauled himself to his feet using the desk as an anchor and Grell was quick to catch him.

She helped to the Infirmary at an agonizing pace and her whole body burned at the contact.

But at last, she saw him to bed.

--

Ronald whistled. "So for him to call out sick…"

"Something must be really wrong." Grell twirled a lock of hair around her finger. "My first to-die isn't for another hour. Perhaps I'll make a social call…"

"Mine either." They compared notes briefly and found themselves double-booked for the same event, a small boat capsize on a private pond.

Ronald caught Grell's eye and raised his eyebrows.

Grell led the way to William's flat and Ronald had the good sense not to question her on where and when she had obtained his address.

The place certainly had no air of a dying man. One window was cracked to let in the spring breeze, and no smell of rot or blood or even sweat accompanied it. Indeed, no stains darkened the floor and no telltale smears ran across the walls. No cries of agony shattered the quiet.

Grell crossed her arms and carried on to the bedroom and softened visibly. Her shoulders dropped, her arms fell, her eyes widened.

William was asleep in bed, his glasses folded on his chest. An electric fan made loose strands of hair dance across his forehead and fluttered his dark lashes. In fact, he looked remarkably well compared to the disaster she'd been expecting, with even a light, healthful flush on his cheeks. The only indicators of illness were the stack of handkerchiefs beside the fan and the congested quality of his breathing.

"I don't believe it," Grell whispered.

"He's not dying," Ronald added.

William's eyebrow twitched and he roused from sleep like one might pass through a doorway: easily and without thinking about it.

At the sight of Grell and Ronald in his doorway, he only scowled and closed his eyes again. "Go away."

"Ah," said Grell. From the quality of his voice, William had a cold in his head, and a nasty one at that. Even a short sentence without any nasal consonants sounded thick and dampened by congestion.

Grell and Ronald both stared for a moment while William resolutely ignored them. But it wasn't long before he was obliged to sit up and reach for a handkerchief. "Ix'tsk!" Even the sneeze sounded congested and unsatisfying.

"We thought you were dying," Ronald said baldly, not bothering to bless him.

William looked at him balefully over the handkerchief, squinting. "I shan't bother to ask what gave you that impression," he said, nasal and muddy. "Please just l- lea- Hhh…" His shoulders hitched with an oncoming sneeze and he squeezed his eyes shut in miserable anticipation. When he flinched, the tears in his lashes sparkled in the light.

And nothing happened.

William muffled a whine into his handkerchief and a shiver shot down Grell's spine before the sound had even registered in her brain. "Ronnie," she said, unable to tear her eyes away from Will and his twitching nose, "don't you have somewhere to be?"

There was a long pause and the sound of shoes scuffling on the floor. In her peripheral vision, Ronald's blurry form shifted. "...maybe."

Grell finally turned and looked at him, raising her eyebrows impatiently, and a silent conversation ensued while William sniffled into his handkerchief and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

It seemed that Ronald was less keen to stay than to find out what she would do for him if he agreed to leave her alone with Will.

'Later' she mouthed, and made a violent gesture toward the door.

Ronald winked at her and turned on his heel. "Feel better, boss!" And, whistling, he went out.

"Hk'xnt! Nnh…"

"Bless you, love," Grell said, banishing Ronald from her mind at once.

William lowered himself back to the pillows and closed his eyes.

Grell sat down on the edge of the bed and smoothed his hair back, growing bold when he gave no protest. "My poor William." He breathed through parted lips, his nose red and irritated. Definitely a cold in his head, and a nasty one.

He furrowed his brow and made a noise as though to speak, but evidently thought better of it and let all his breath out in a rush. Silently, Grell thanked him for it.

Here in William's room with the electric fan softening the sharp sounds of the world outside the window, she had found a small, fleeting paradise. It was almost a blessing he had gotten sick like this, though it was strange that he had not reported to work anyway.

"Why didn't you come in?" Grell asked, voicing the thought before she could stop herself.

William swallowed thickly and winced, opening his eyes to fix her with an unamused stare. "...not feeling well."

"I know, but—"

He rubbed his eyes, his voice somehow both dreamy and irritated. "I've been under the weather for the past eight days."

Ah, he had been unusually snappish and reclusive this past week. But how well he'd hidden his discomfort! Grell hadn't so much as heard him sniffle. He'd even gone out on a few missions— Ah. "You were caught in that hailstorm, weren't you?"

"Yes, and woke up in the middle of the night with a temperature of 38."

And that explained his unusual honesty. He was so pliant now without the barrier of work to hide behind. That explained the electric fan as well. Still, she pressed. "But…"

"I didn't want to come in." He glared at her like it was the most obvious thing in the world, like he hadn't nearly killed himself again working through an illness all those years ago.

The line between his brow pointed downwards and upwards, indicating two perfect spots for a kiss. She imagined it with an ache in her chest: one kiss on the tip of the pink, irritated nose, one kiss on the fevered brow. "My poor darling," she said. "Poor William must really not be feeling well."

"Ill indeed," he agreed, "to have such a specter haunting my bedside."

"Oh, my dear." And Grell did kiss his forehead and her long hair made curtains around them. Her hand made a divot in the pillow beneath his head. He reached across himself and held it there, gazing up at her with hazy eyes.

She smiled sadly, scoffing at herself. "Please do take care of yourself, William. I'll miss you today."

"I don't believe you—" He yawned and slipped his hand off Grell's to cover his mouth. She sat up. Outside carriage wheels creaked and hooves clattered on the cobblestones and voices rose above the hum of the fan. "I don't believe you won't come back," he murmured.

Grell got up. There were so many things she could do for him: fetch him water, change his bedding, check his temperature. But she wouldn't, not now. Not when the bloody knife of longing twisted so sharply in her chest she could scarcely stand on her feet. "Perhaps I will," she said, and went out.

She left the door open behind her and only smiled when the sound of a congested sneeze chased her into the hall.

Yes, she'd come back. She always did.

[dawbi]

taking care of the bnha boys when they’re sick (gif reaction)

warnings - flu/cold symptoms, swearing !!

characters - midoriya, bakugou, todoroki, dabi, & hawks

midoriya

do not listen to his "i'm fine y/n. really." poor boy is light headed and trying to sniffle his way through the day. no, not on your watch. "babe, i'm gonna need you to rest. i'm not gonna even try asking." "but i--" you shake your head and lightly push him back onto the bed and pull the blanket over him. he pouts but deep down inside he knows he needs to take it easy. you would have to ask him if he needs anything because he will not want to bother you. and if you know how to cook, a nice homemade soup would be perfect in this situation but if you're like me, a cup of noodles 🍜 will suffice. either way, it warms izuku's heart that you'd take care of him and will finish every single drop of it. no complaints. *sniffle* "thanks, love." he sneezes into the bowl right after lol. he's so cute red-faced from his fever and from the mishap that you just walk over to him and hold his face in your hands. "y/n." "what?" "don't get so *sniffle* close, you're gonna *sniffle* get sick." you ignore the warning and lean in to kiss him but, he turns his head and his arms form an x. "w-wait till i get better." you can't help but giggle at his cuteness. when he goes back to lie down, you reach for the remote and flip through a couple channels. a couple minutes later, you hear light snores coming from your boyfriend's direction and a small smile forms on your face. you quietly leave the room so he could rest peacefully. a couple hours pass and midoriya wakes up feeling so much better and he's giddy. he gets up to walk over to the room you're in and stands at the entrance, not even saying a word ssdgjjfs. you look over at him and raise a brow. "are you feeling better, izuku?" he smiles instead of giving a verbal reply. he's still standing there awkwardly until you ask "so does that mean...?" izuku smiles and walks towards you to hold your face this time. "maybe~" he playfully answers. he places soft kisses all over your face as you giggle. midoriya always appreciates everything you do for him so prepare for him to make it up to you x1000 💖

bakugou

his own cells are pissed off. bakugou will not take it easy even if he’s sick, so pls you’d have to take care of him 🥺 would put up a fight if you tell him to rest. “y/n! it's just a stupid fever, i'm not gonna die!" "baby, i know you're strong and all but imma need you to chill." you look down at the thermometer and it's at 102 degrees. "it's gonna go higher if you don't shut up." the blonde furrows his brows and starts arguing with the thermometer about how it's lying. bakugou is probably delirious at this point who knows lol. "suki please. you're making me stress out here." he doesn't like hearing that. he hates ever being the cause of your worries. so, without a word he gets up and plops on the couch, ready for you to place an ice pack on his forehead. there are a few times he tries to get up to get something himself instead of asking you but, you just send him a look and he huffs while not moving an inch. after you get him some water and medicine, his fever seems to have gone down a bit. you sit together on the couch watching dr.phil because that's what comes on in the early day. "what a loser. that bald guy better roast his ass after the commercial." "his name is dr. phil babe." you two exchange laughs throughout the episode and bakugou ends up placing his head on your lap. you look down at him questioningly and he just murmurs "i’m feeling dizzy ok? just give me a minute." you run your fingers through his hair and massage his scalp. you notice he's watching you and you pull back thinking it was annoying him. "oh sorry!" "no, it's fine. i...like it." he grabs your hand and softly places it back on his hair. never would bakugou admit this but maybe it's his cold making him. "you're so cute." you tell him and place a kiss on his forehead. he feels his face heating up and he knows it's not his fever. "shut up." bakugou says out of embarrassment and turns to the side. "...you are." he murmurs. again, it's "the fever talking". a smile forms on your face and you continue running your fingers through his blonde hair. you two end up falling asleep like that with the tv still on. omg if you get sick because of him he will yell at you for putting yourself at risk while going full on protective mood uwu.

todoroki

todoroki would want to look strong for you. he's been sick plenty of times before and he doesn't like feeling like a burden. "baby, you know we can stay in right?" todoroki had been planning on taking you out on a date for awhile now since you hadn't gotten the chance to spend much time together recently. "i'm fine y/n. let's--" he cuts himself off in a fit of coughs. you rush over to him and push his bangs aside to feel his forehead. it's obvious he has a fever and these coughs sound painful as hell. "todoroki shouto. you must think i'm crazy if i'm gonna let you out of this house." before he can even respond you start heading into his room to set his bed. "hey, if you're not over here in 10 seconds i'm gonna drag you here myself." he sighs and walks towards the room. todoroki appears with a frown on his face and sits on the bed while saying “love, i wanted to take you out today.” coughs right after his sentence. “cool. can you lie down?” he gives you a salty look but complies as soon as he sees your unamused face. shouto doesn’t wanna admit that he’s feeling weak. won’t ask for any medicine or anything. “babe, i need you to take this.” “i don’t need it.” “yes.” “no.” it’s frustrating but you two compromise and he takes some cough drops. you leave your boyfriend to rest for a bit and get him tea that helps with coughing and some soba. cold of course. just as you carry the soba with you to give to todoroki, he’s already in the kitchen. “nooo i was gonna take it you.” he looks at what you brought for him and his eyes land on the cold soba. it all hits him and he feels shy. “y-you didn’t have to do all this.” todoroki looks to the side as he says this. “stop sho. of course i’m gonna take care of you!” you smile at him. “i love you but i’m gonna be pissed if you don’t eat this.” you point to the soba and he slightly smiles. shouto takes a seat and says “thank you, i love you too.” and then a fit of coughs follows. your smile fades and you pass over the cup of tea to him. “start sipping 😀🔪”

dabi

omg this man is a big baby on the inside. he’s smirking at your attempts of taking care of him but, he loves it. “how tf did you manage to get a fever of 114 degrees?” dabi rolls his eyes and argues “it’s not a big deal. i’ve always dealt with it when i overheat.” you give him a 🤨🤨 “and am i just supposed to let you be?” “uh yeah?” without a word, you get up and set the couch for him. "babe, lay tf down or imma make you lay tf down." normally dabi would playfully accept the challenge but, his fever has him feeling too weak to do so. hey, sometimes this man needs tough love because he usually rejects anything soft. he's just not that used to it yet. dabi gets up from his seat with the longest sigh and plops himself onto the couch. "thank you. now, let me go get an ice pack while you take off that jacket." you point to his jacket that he wears almost daily. "you're gonna overheat." dabi scowls as he angles his head currently located on the pillow, to look up at you. "what. did you get your phd in the last five minutes or something?" "just do it." "sorry, dr. y/l/n." yeah he doesn't stop calling you that the whole time lol. you come back to see that he listened to you and took his jacket off. "ok ready?" "...do i even have a choice?" he closes his eyes as his way of saying get on with it. you place the ice pack on his pretty forehead and hold it there for a bit. dabi opens his eyes and observes you. wow, someone is taking care of him? someone...cares? "open." your voice suddenly interrupts his thoughts. you're trying to get him to take the tylenol. if you're the one taking care of him, he doesn't wanna get better soon. "nope sorry doc. i'll do everything except that." which he does and especially loves every second of you taking care of him. the guy coughs obnoxiously loud to get you to come over to him. he doesn't even have a sore throat but you don't need to know that. dabi is a menace and will pull you down onto the couch to cuddle you. “babe, get you and your germs the fuck off of me.” “no.” if only you could see the soft smile on his face as he nuzzles into your warmth. after the cold passes, you mess with him before he leaves by speaking in a parental tone, “don’t forget your jacket! you’re gonna catch a cold.” as you put it on him he smirks. “ah is that so? then maybe i shouldn’t wear one then.” he then grabs you by the waist and pulls you in for a kiss. his way of thanking you for everything.

hawks

keigo definitely works a lot as a top hero. the stress of all of it mutated into a cold. to be honest, he didn't mind calling in for a day off with you. however, a part of him feels like it's wrong because he should be protecting people. "kei. you should stop watching the news for today. it's not good." he sneezes before an answer can come out. "but i'm not there today ya know? feels weird." keigo pouts and crosses his arms. "i know baby but today you need to relax." mans takes full advantage i'm sorry. he thinks it's cute when you worry about him and it's frustrating 😒. "kei, did you take the tylenol i left for you?" "oh? you left me one? could you feed it to me pls 😇😇" oh he saw it. keigo either wants you to baby him or to fluster you ajhsfdgshjskks. "y/n my love~ could you take off my clothes? i'm feeling too hot." you give him a look but he just winks at you. "bye." just pour water on his thirsty ass. beneath all the flirting, this hero is in love and greatful for you being in his life. he has someone waiting for him at home to wash away the stress and darkness. the one he works against at work and within himself. "why do you do all this?" you hear keigo's voice from the living room as you cut carrots in the kitchen. "do what?" keigo takes a deep breath, "take care of me." there he goes. you know your boyfriend well at this point. keigo's self-sabotaging again. you turn away from the cutting board to face him. "because i love you and even a hero needs someone to take care of them." his heart skips a beat pls he's such a simp for you. you turn back to the cutting board and a couple seconds later, you hear a trail of sniffles coming towards you. keigo wraps his arms around your middle and places his chin on your shoulder. "i love you too. you're my medicine, for everything." your boyfriend is a tease but, he's very sincere with his feelings for you. you let out a small chuckle. "alright, mr. hawks. allow me to continue making this healing soup." he chuckles at the name and gives you a quick peck before walking back to the living room. on his way back you hear him say, "you should probably make extra. you might need it later." oof good luck bb 🙃

a/n - omg sorry for the small hiatus ☹️ and tysm for 500+ 💕💓💓💞 i kinda wanna do an event but idk if anyone would participate :(((