#i need my body to get out of this stress sickness slump this isn't helping me in any way

[izzy-b-hands]

I told myself I was gonna get one of today's prompts done but

i am staring at my word doc wrapped in a blanket thinking about showering and going to sleep instead (even tho I know my brain won't let me actually fall asleep until fuck knows when, which makes that feel like just. wasted time.)

[wintersoldiersoul]

Hi.

Saw you are taking requests.

I got shingles the weekend close to my birthday, i confuse it with allergy because i am allergic to basically anything and then on my 24th birthday i got that it was actually shingles, doctor told me that my immune system went down and that is why i got it. Before that i was under so much stress because of work that i developed burn out and had to quit my job (literally spent months, weeks of my life visiting the emergency ward because i kept getting sick due to stress and burn out) probably that Triggered the shingles.

Could you write something with Bucky in which the reader suffers similar sh**? I just need comfort from my fave character 😭

If you dont feel comfortable is fine, i understand 😁

KUDOS!

I'm so sorry you went through that! I hope you are much better now. I tried to make this as medically accurate as possible (I texted my friend in med school LOL) but I am definitely not a doctor so if some stuff isn't accurate, just pretend it is.

You threw your hair up into a ponytail to get it out of your face. Hours slumped over at your desk weren't doing any favors. You grabbed the energy drink and chugged it to prevent your eyes from closing. You were almost done with this assignment. Just a little bit longer, you told yourself. 

Working full time and being a grad student was taking a toll on you. You spent every day from 9-5 in your office and every night from 6-10 in classes. You crammed homework in anywhere you could, which often meant staying up most of the night. It was approaching 4am, now. 

The office door creaked open and Bucky strolled in, sleep still filling his eyes. “Baby,” he sighed. “Come to bed.” He had woken up and the bed was cold without you beside him. He walked over to you, kissing your forehead.

“Can’t,” you mumbled without looking up from your computer.

“You gotta get some sleep, darlin’.”

You sneezed, still typing away. “I’m fi-” your words were interrupted by another sneeze.

Bucky stood, looking at you with a stern expression. “Well look at that. You’re getting sick.” 

You waved your hand. “No, I’m not. It’s just allergies,” you said, sniffling. “You know this time of year is bad.” The past few months, you had been sick on and off multiple times. A cold, a small fever, you were sick more than you weren’t. 

“Honey, please just get some sleep. You haven’t slept in days.” He was practically begging. He knew how much stress you were under and getting no sleep wasn’t going to help. He was extremely worried about you.

“Just give me 10 more minutes, okay?” You compromised.

“Fine. But I’m sitting right here and setting a timer. The second it goes off, I’m carrying you to bed.”

He did exactly that, throwing you over his shoulder when you didn’t get up immediately at the ring of his phone. Despite the intense amounts of caffeine you had consumed, you fell asleep the second your head hit the pillow.

Bucky woke up before you the next morning, smiling at your sleeping form. Your hair was sprawled over your face and he gently pushed it away to kiss your cheek. But as soon as he moved the strands, he noticed that your cheeks were flushed. He put the back of his flesh hand on your skin. Heat radiated off of your face before he even touched you. You were definitely sick.

He got up, being careful not to wake you. He left the bedroom returning a few minutes later with water, Advil, and a thermometer. You groaned as your alarm rang, sending shooting pains into your skull. You groaned, opening your eyes. You felt like absolute shit. Your whole body ached, your throat was on fire, and even your skin hurt.

“You’re sick.” Bucky stated, as if he was informing you.

“Yeah, I can tell,” you retorted, wincing at the pain in every cell of your body. He smiled softly, brushing your hair behind your ears. 

“I got you some water and Advil. Can I take your temperature, doll?”

You nodded and he put the thermometer under your tongue. He looked it, eyes widening. “Shit baby, that’s not good. Your temp is 102.8. How do you feel?”

“Horrible,” you pouted.

He sighed. “I’m not surprised. That’s a really high fever, baby. I think we should go to the doctor.”

You groaned, not wanting to move. You felt so horrible that the thought of having to get up and out of bed was a nightmare. You felt like you couldn’t stay awake, eyes closing no matter how hard you tried to keep them open. “Can’t move,” you whispered, coughing slightly. “My whole body hurts so much. Just wanna sleep.”

Bucky didn’t know what to do. In his mind, sickness meant calling a doctor. He had spent so many years worrying about Steve back in the 40s, sitting with him while he got looked at. He still wasn’t used to how things were today. The google search he did on his phone told him that if your fever went above 103, to take you to the hospital. In his opinion, you were close enough that he wanted to rush you there right now, but he could see how exhausted you were.

“Alright, rest for now. But if it gets worse we’re going to the hospital.” You didn’t even hear him as you had already fallen back to sleep.

You woke up in a daze, cold sweat clinging to your body. You were shivering aggressively, shaking the entire bed. “Babe?” Bucky said, noticing you were awake. “You cold?”

You nodded, teeth chattering. He quickly grabbed you another blanket, wrapping you up like a burrito. He wrapped his arms around you, hoping that his body heat would help, too. One of the major perks of dating a super soldier was that the chances of getting him sick were very slim. He held you as close as possible, trying to keep you warm. “Oh, honey,” he whispered, voice dripping with sympathy.

 “Can you take your temperature again for me?” He asked after your shivering had subsided a little bit. You put the thermometer back in your mouth, waiting for the beep. Bucky took it from you, heart stopping as he looked. “I know you don’t wanna move, but we gotta go to the ER. You’re at 103.6. That’s really really bad.”

You groaned. You felt so horrible, his words barely even registered in your mind. He picked you up and carried you to the car, whispering words of encouragement along the way. You closed your eyes again, finding it physically impossible to stay awake. Bucky held your hand the entire car ride before picking you up and carrying you into the ER. He let you sleep as you waited, positioning your head on his shoulder. He constantly watched you to make sure you were still breathing. He didn’t wanna wake you until he absolutely had to.

When you were finally called in, he shook you gently. “Can you walk?” He asked. You weakly nodded and he helped you to your feet letting you lean on his body as you went to the exam room.

The doctor hooked you up to an IV immediately to hydrate your sick body as they examined you.

“How have you been sleeping?” She asked you.

“Um, not great,” you answered, voice sounding raspy. “I’ve been under a lot of stress.”

“She hasn’t slept in a week,” Bucky interjected. “She’s been getting sick a lot these past few months since she started grad school.”

The doctor nodded. “Okay that’s very good to know.” She proceeded to ask you a few more questions and then said, “Did you have chicken-pox as a kid?”

You nodded. “Yeah. When I was 5.”

She carefully rolled up your shirt, revealing a rash on your side. “It looks like you have shingles. The stress you’ve been under seems to have weakened your immune system which is why you’ve been getting sick so much. It makes sense that with all of that the virus would come back now.”

Bucky held your hand. He was relieved that you had a diagnosis but of course he was terrified. Back in his time, that would have been a death sentence. “Is she gonna be okay?”

“I’ll be fine, Buck,” you answered. 

“Yes,” the doctor agreed. “We’re gonna keep her here for at least tonight because your fever is so high. But you will be okay.”

Bucky exhaled. “Oh, thank god.”

“Can I go to sleep now?” You asked the doctor. You were so exhausted.

“Yes. I’ll let you rest,” she smiled before leaving the room.

“I’m so sorry you feel so shitty,” Bucky said, holding your hand. “Will this make you take it easy?”

“I don’t know what I can do to change anything,” you said with tear filled eyes. “Literally the only time I have to get things done is in the middle of the night.”

He looked into your eyes. He wanted to help you so badly that his heart ached. He wanted you to be happy and healthy. “What if you quit your job?” He suggested. “You only took this as a temporary thing anyway. I know you don’t wanna stay there when you’re done with school.”

“I can’t not have a job, Bucky,” you argued.

“Baby,” he looked in your eyes. “Do you have any clue how much the Avengers pay me?” He smirked. “Trust me, you don’t need a job.” You opened your mouth to argue, ready to tell him that you didn’t need his money. “I know you’re your own person and you can make your own money. And one day, with that brain, you will make so much all on your own. But baby, you’re drowning. You’ve been sick more days than not the past few months. Please, let me take care of you. Just for a bit. I’d never tell you what to do and if you really wanna stay, you can. But you’re killing yourself, darling. And I can’t just sit back and watch as it happens. Just think about it. Please.”

You lazily smiled. “Okay. I’ll think about it. But not right now. Right now, I need to sleep.”

He stroked your hair and kissed your forehead. “Go to sleep, my love. I’ll be right here when you wake up.” 

[kangaracha]

head above water | chapter 1

also written by @keepswingin

---

pairing chan x reader, jeongin x reader

genre love triangle, coming of age, angst, sickfic, friends with benefits, college au

summary Homework, a small business, overbearing parents, a boyfriend that isn't a boyfriend. And then there's whatever is going on with her best friend, who seems to want something...more than a friendship, if he ever gets around to asking her about it- life is complicated, and far too busy for Y/N to be bothered with being stressed, or sick, or whatever it is that's making it hard to eat and sleep and focus on her work-

status ongoing

taglist OPEN

masterlist | next

---

You're slumped across Chan's lap when Minho finally comes through the door, one arm full of groceries, the other holding his duffel bag from dance practice. He's not at all surprised to see you as he kicks the door shut with a foot, though he does roll his eyes and make a big show of tossing off his shoes before sauntering over to the kitchen and slinging his bags on the closest empty counter.

"Of course all of you heathens are here," he grouses as he starts pulling things out of one of the shopping bags and stacking the various items beside it. "Do any of you ever leave the house?"

"Depends on the weather," Changbin chimes from beside you, flipping lazily through television channels.

"The weather's fine," Minho mutters, making a face as he shoves things over to make more room for what he's currently unloading. You watch in amusement as the current victim seems to be Chan's laptop and discarded charger. "My wallet isn't, on the other hand." He catches your eye as he turns, tugging the fridge open. "What are you doing here?" he asks, as if you're not welcome, even though you've slept over more often than you should and the key to his apartment sits on your keychain like an unattainable trophy.

A trophy you deserved, anyway - you're more than sure your key is Changbin's replacement key. He had lost it sometime ago, and Minho hadn't bothered to make him a new one. You watch as Minho tosses something from the open fridge with Changbin's writing on the top of it.

"Sorry," you say, the word clumsily as it tumbles from your mouth. You're not usually like this, but you feel embarrassed for some reason, being so close to Chan, leaning on him like he's nothing more than a pillow. Minho wouldn't judge, not ever, but there is something in his gaze that makes you doubt, your stomach twisting. "I wasn't feeling good after class, and my apartment is farther than yours."

Minho hums at your answer, seemingly satisfied. The tightness in your chest doesn't loosen.

You wish it would, after a day like today.

Instead, you exhale, and move to sit up, stretching your arms above your head. You tilt your head to either side to crack your neck, and feel Chan shift in return, cold fingers attempting to slip around your wrist. You pull away before he can keep you there, and avoid the glance of concern he gives you as you stand up.

His care is too much, sometimes. He keeps you grounded in ways you've never been able to understand and yet sometimes you worry that he'll look at you too closely and unravel every secret you've never told. It's easy to nearly fall asleep pressed against him. It's always been hard to escape his gaze.

You make your way over to the kitchen just as Minho throws something else away. You barely catch the hastily scribbled label on that one, but you're pretty sure it was Chan's handwriting.

"Do you need help?"

Minho doesn't give a direct answer, moving something over inside the fridge to make room, but he doesn't have to. He was easy to read once you knew him.

You start handing him things one at a time - a package of fresh chicken, sliced cheese and shredded ham for Han's sandwiches. You can't help but glance over your shoulder at the thought of the third body in the room; Han's slumped in the armchair on the other side of the television, eyes closed and forehead hidden behind the hood of his sweatshirt, though you can't tell if he's asleep or not. He might've been snoring earlier, but you had nearly fallen asleep yourself, lost in thought about far too many things and conformable against Chan -

"Are you hungry?"

Minho sounds tired. You shrug, not wanting him to go out of his way. Your stomach's been feeling weird all day anyway, so you aren't sure if you want to test your luck just yet. "I don't know, I've been feeling off all day."

"Are you sick?" he asks, finally closing the fridge with a loud thump.

"Unnecessary!" Chan calls loudly as he tries to reach over and grab the remote from Changbin. "Go back!"

Thankfully, you're saved from answering by Chan's stunned tone as Minho and you turn towards the living room to see what's going on.

"Get your own TV," Changin grumbles in return, opting to skip the overly dramatic movie he lands on next. "I told you I'm not watching that dumb show."

"It's not even your TV," Minho interjects sourly. "Stop fighting over my stuff."

"I helped pay for half of it!" Changbin argues easily, turning his head to shoot Minho a scathing look. "It was my idea to upgrade anyway, not yours!"

You grimace at the increase in noise, your head beginning to throb. Another headache, you realize with a soft sigh. God, what was with you today?

"Someone wake up Hannie," Minho interrupts, reaching for a pot. "I need help with dinner."

And that, for some reason, is what stops Chan and Changbin's bickering. "It's only four," Changbin immediately complains, slumping against the back of the couch and finally allowing Chan access to the remote. "I had a late lunch, what, are you trying to make sure I starve later?"

"I don't care," Minho throws back as he flicks on a burner. "I'm hungry now."

You decide to walk back into the living room, gently giving Han a squeeze to his knee as you pass, startling him awake. He blinks owlishly in your direction as you collapse back on the cushion in between Chan and Changbin, your head falling on Chan's shoulder.

Minho calls Han to the kitchen once he sees that he's awake, and with a gentle tone he would never use with anyone else. You smile when you notice, tucking closer to Chan.

Han is sluggish in getting to his feet and making his way over, but then you watch as he trudges to Minho's side and reaches for a knife, only for the older to slap his hand away and push him over to the boiling pot instead.

Changbin resorts to his phone on your left, scrolling endlessly on what you hope isn't Twitter, shooting bitter glances at the television every now and again while you sit pressed against someone who you trust more than life as he chuckles softly at a cheesy joke on the television.

It's so easy to want to fall back into the fun parts of a relationship, but it's the hard parts that keep you from giving in. Things with Chan were always somewhere in the middle, and it's that thought that keeps you from being the one to start things back up again, especially with college, and juggling what remains of your business on top of dealing with your mother's incessance that you're taking too long with the degree you never should have gotten in the first place -

"Hey," Chan whispers, leaning close to your ear. "You okay?"

His arm is slung around your shoulders, fingers brushing the exposed skin of your arm. You didn't even notice him move, but you're grateful for his presence all the same. It's only easy for you to break his mannerisms down the way that you do because you've known him since high school, and the two of you have been on and off since his first year of college.

Chan wasn't much older than you, but the truth was that you never intended to go to college, until your parents insisted, even though you've been making a good amount of money through art commissions in a supportive community. But, of course, to them that didn't mean much, so here you were, battling through your last year of college for an art degree just to spite them some more.

"I'm okay," you whisper back, reaching over and tugging playfully at his arm. "Thanks for being the world's greatest pillow." His chest rumbles with a soft chuckle. Your stomach flips in that way that makes it hard to tell what exactly you feel.

"I'm just glad you're feeling better," he replies easily, tugging you closer. "I'm sorry that you felt bad at all, I know all it does is make the day feel even longer than it usually does."

"It wasn't all bad," you supply, idly watching the characters onscreen poke and prod at each other until one can't take anymore. "Jeongin helped me out during class, and Felix walked me over."

Chan hums and the both of you lapse into a comfortable silence. Not that you could even really call it silence with the force known as Minho and Han in the kitchen, but it's close enough. He's the one to break it a few minutes later, fingers drumming softly against your skin.

"Jeongin is..." he pauses, thinking. "The one in your math class, right?"

"No, that's Seungmin, the one Minho threatened to boil alive."

That makes him laugh, and Changbin grumble from the noise, shifting away. "Oh right, I remember that." He stifles another bout of laughter, and you can't help but turn and look at him, your own lips tugging into a smile at the sight. He glances at you and can't contain himself, and then you both collapse into laughter that rings through the living room.

"Jeongin is the one she spends the most time with," Changbin interrupts from behind his phone, eyeing Chan carefully. "He's in nearly all her classes."

"Oh right, right," Chan says as soon as the two of you are able to contain your laughter, nodding his head as you settle back against him again. "He was sweet."

"Felix was the sweetheart," Changbin corrects, finally putting his phone down. "Hyunjin was artsy," he continues, unbidden as he sits up, "and Jeongin was...something else."

"Something else?" you question, turning to Changbin. "What does that mean?"

Changbin looks back at you like he knows something you don't, which doesn't make any sense, considering he was usually the last to know about a lot of things. Your key to Minho's apartment, for example. How could it be something he lost when you knew for a fact that it was Chan who had stolen it and snuck it on your keychain. But the way he looks at you now isn't something you're used to, and as the seconds tick by, you're not quite sure if you want to know what exactly he's talking about or not.

"I thought the day went well," you pivot, turning back to Chan. "None of you ended up hating each other, and that's all I needed to know."

"Jeongin was nice," Chan tacks on, though his eyes flit between you and the television like he's unsure where exactly he should look. You ignore him in favor of glaring at Changbin, just because you can. Changbin withers under your gaze and takes it as his cue to stand up and barrel into the kitchen, inserting himself between Han and the knife he's somehow gotten ahold of in the meantime.

"Weirdo," you mumble after he's out of earshot.

Chan hums softly in agreement.

Your headache starts to fade after a while, but the out of place feeling in your chest lingers, and though whatever Minho's cooking smells amazing, your stomach just cannot seem to handle the smell. You exhale and sit up, deciding to leave before you become anymore of a burden, not that Minho ever has time to say such a thing when moving out of college landed him with three party crashers at all times to distract him from your presence.

Chan, Changbin and Han had graduated together, eager to get their start in music producing or sound engineering, but the future never worked out how you thought it would, and now Changbin was working nights as bouncer at a club, Chan was pinballing between odd jobs, and Han was torn between going back to college for a 'better degree' or moving back in with his parents.

You had talked him out of the latter, thankfully, but you knew it was hard for him, with the anxiety that curled so easily around his insides the same as your own did.

It was luck that Minho had just so happened to graduate with a degree that allowed him to get paid enough to live on, and that he also just so happened to be Han's roommate during college. Chan and Changbin had followed Minho around like ducklings as soon as Han introduced them, and the rest was history. Or couch surfing. Or a friendship that would last a lifetime.

"I should get going," you tell Chan as you stand, casting a glance towards the kitchen. You left your things by the door so you really have no reason to go that way, but you figure that the least you could do was thank Minho for not kicking you out or threatening to boil you alongside the chicken.

"Will you be okay getting home?" Chan asks, muting the television. "I can walk you."

"I'll be fine," you drone with a poorly hidden smile, heading over to the kitchen. "I'm gonna go, Minho," you say, Changbin scooting himself to the other side of the kitchen island to avoid your path. "Thank you for having me."

Minho scoffs, shaking his head but not bothering to turn towards you as he swats Han away again. "You're always welcome here," he replies, tone dry. "Stop acting like I won't let you in."

"Maybe one of these times you won't," you chime, making your way over to the door and slipping on your shoes. "For all I know, I could be using up all my free visits."

"Aish," he tsks, and you catch his gaze over the curve in the wall, the playful tug of the corner of his lips. "Get out then," he tells you, and you can't help but laugh as you sling your bag over your shoulder and open the door. 

taglist

@kokinu09 @rainfallingfromthesky @rylea08 @jenniferlr @enzos-shit @sxnset-angel @amyyscorner @puppysmileseungmin @thatonedemigodfromseoul

[missmorosis]

sick manager :)

-> feat. bokuto, oikawa, and tsukishima

part 2 with sugawara and kuroo here!

personally i loved writing these, so lmk if you want a part 2 with other characters 👀

TW: PASSING OUT :))

To sum up how you felt in one word, you were exhausted. You were physically overworked; pushed to your limit with tons of schoolwork, stress, extracurriculars, and on top of that, you were your school's volleyball team manager. You were merely a first year, but you did your job well, and the entire team loved you.

You had tried to power through the classes, running with just two hours of sleep. Work was starting to pile up, so you had no time for sleep.

You felt yourself falling asleep during lectures, curling up on the grass for quick naps during lunch, and throughout the day, you had the worst headache.

With luck, you managed to make it through, but you still had hours of volleyball ahead of you. You blinked hard, trying to get rid of the sleepiness clouding your head. Your head pounded, and nothing was really registering in your brain.

There was no denying it, you were sick.

It was bound to happen sooner or later, but it was still annoying. You didn't want to miss the day's volleyball practice, because you had an upcoming game, so you decided to just push through and deal with it. 

Ignoring how bad your head hurt, you slung your bag over your shoulder and walked out of the classroom.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Bokuto, someone you recognized as the captain of the team you were the manager for, spotted you from a distance and was already bouncing, beaming as he waved. You smiled back with a small wave. He didn't mind that you didn't match his enthusiasm; he was used to it, so he didn’t find anything suspicious about it.

The two of you walked down to the gym, Bokuto talking animatedly the whole way there in the background. You didn't mind though, it was nice to just listen. However, every word he chirped bore into your brain, seeming to echo.

You didn’t want to be rude, but you couldn’t help but try to drown out his voice by focusing on your surroundings.

A green bush. A tall tree. A group of students.

“Y/N?” Bokuto waved his hand in front of your face, and you looked up at the mention of your name.

“Hm? Sorry, sorry, I’m just... oh, we’re here!” you said, quickly changing the subject. You didn’t want him to worry, and it was no big deal anyways... You could finally see the gym, and you let out a sigh of relief. It felt like the short walk was actually several miles long. 

You finally made it- 

Shoot.

A sudden dizzy spell overtook you. Shutting your eyes tight, you stumbled on your own feet, your legs giving out beneath you. No, no, no....

"Y/N!" Bokuto yelped as he caught you. He pulled you close to him, and whimpering, you leaned on his chest, trying to stay conscious.

“Sorry...” you breathed softly, just trying to focus on the way Bokuto’s chest went up, and down.

Up... and down. You shut your eyes tighter as a wave of your headache hit. Bokuto’s arms around you were definitely helping you stay standing, and you were thankful. Up... and down.

Then you slumped into his arms.

...

The second your eyes opened again, you were knocked back with a hug. You grunted at the unexpected impact, but smiled when you realized it was Bokuto.

"Y/N! You're awake!" Bokuto yelled, his voice watery with relief. "I thought you died," he sobbed, and you hugged him tight.

"I'm fine, I promise," you said with a laugh. "Just... thirsty." Bokuto leaped to get you a glass of water as fast as he could.

While he was gone, you looked around to see that you were in the nurse's office. You could just imagine Bokuto running with you unconscious in his arms, and you smiled at the thought.

Bokuto came back with the promised water, and he lay a hand on you to check up on your temperature.

"You're really burning up... why didn't you tell me you were sick?" he asked, pouting.

"I didn't want you to worry... I thought I would be fine, and that I would make it through practice." He shook his head.

"I want to know, okay?" You nodded with a smile.

"How long was I unconscious?" He thought for a second before responding.

"Only for a couple seconds, but you were kinda drowsy so we made you rest. It's been a couple hours now." You immediately got up.

"Practice isn't over yet?" you asked, still hopeful. Maybe you could at least stay for an hour? It was better than noth-

"Y/N..." he sad warningly, and you knew going wasn't an option.

"Fine..."

"Good," he responded, satisfied with your answer.

Walking out of the classroom, you met eyes with Oikawa Tooru, who immediately lit up at the sight of you. His smile immediately turned into a frown, immediately noticing something was different about you, given how perceptive he was.

"What's wrong?" he questioned slowly, and you shook your head.

"Nothing's wrong, Tooru... I'm just tired," you said, but he looked at you suspiciously.

“You should take a break,” he reminded you gently, and you shook your head, no matter how tempted you were.

“I really can’t, I’ve got… a lot to do. But I’m fine, I swear,” you assured him, gesturing towards the gym, despite the sick feeling in your body. You swallowed, trying to swallow the dizziness. “Let’s go!” You tried for a smile, and Oikawa responded with a hesitant one, finally deciding to let it go. 

Starting to walk towards the gym with the volleyball player following close behind, you shook your head, trying to shake out the growing light-headed feeling that you dreaded. It wouldn’t go away.

Shutting your eyes as tight as you could, you didn’t even notice that you stopped walking until someone tapped your shoulder. 

“Hm?” You peeked your eyes open slightly to notice Oikawa standing next to you. 

“Y/N-chan?” His face was written all over with concern.

“Sorry, I just…” You laughed sheepishly, trying to shrug it off, but the pain was beginning to be way too much. “I.. just…” you tried to say, but you were unable to finish as you swayed to one side, tripping over your own feet trying to stay standing. You heard Oikawa's yelp as he rushed to catch you, and you blinked slowly before passing out completely.

...

As soon as you woke up, you found yourself in your own bedroom. When you got up, wondering how you got there, you were met with Oikawa's frown.

"When was the last time you had at least seven hours of sleep?" he asked, disapproval in his eyes as he pushed you back into bed. You gave a shy smile.

"Maybe... two weeks ago?" Oikawa gasped dramatically before tutting in distaste.

"You need to sleep, or else your health will plummet," he said, shaking his head. Of course, at that moment, your headache had to come back. You winced and shut your eyes, burying your face into your hands. "What's wrong?" You shook your head with a sigh.

"My head's killing me," you admitted. "It's been like this all day."

"Wha- Y/N," he scolded, leaving the room. Where was he going? Ah. He came back with some medicine and a thermometer.

"Thanks." You swallowed the medicine, and Oikawa immediately forced the thermometer into your mouth.

"103.2?! Y/N, you'll be here for a good three days. I'm not ever letting you leave your bed until you get better, and I won't leave either." You laughed at his motherly antics.

"But what about pract-" you started, but Oikawa shushed you.

"Think of it as a much needed break." You stared at him.

"Did you at least go today?"

"No, of course not! You were freaking unconscious, I can't go and hit some good serves if I know that my precious Y/N could possibly be in pain," he said with a pout.

"Aw, Tooru..." You kissed his cheek. "You're too swee-" He pushed you back into your pillows, pulling the covers up before you could finish.

"Now rest up, Y/N-chan."

You glanced at your phone; you still had an hour until volleyball practice...

A little nap wouldn't hurt, right?

You found a nice, private corner, and huddled up. Using your backpack as a pillow, you fell asleep almost instantly.

Some time later, Tsukishima was walking by, on his way to practice. His eyes spotted you asleep in the corner, and he smirked.

"Idiot," he muttered under his breath, laughing to himself softly. "Hey, get up, Y/N." He flicked his finger on your forehead, and laughed when you began to stir awake.

"Mm?" Your voice was raspy from both sickness and sleepiness, and you blinked your eyes, trying to adjust. You shielded your face from the light with your hand, and you finally made out Tsukki's tall figure kneeling in front of you. "Oh, hi Tsukki..." He held out his hand with a smug smile, offering to help you up.

You groaned when you realized that the nap didn't make your headache go away. Getting up too fast, you swayed for a good two seconds; Tsukki's hands were on your shoulders, trying to steady you.

"Ten bucks you don't make it through practice without passing out," he joked, but you had a feeling he was going to be ten dollars richer soon enough. You nodded sleepily, but quickly froze.

"Wait- am I late for practice?" You frantically dug your phone out, sighing in relief when you learned that you still had ten minutes to spare.

"What, you think I would be late?" Tsukishima said, jokingly. "But anyways, I'm not letting you go to practice today. Clearly you need rest... and..." His hand rested on your forehead, and he nodded. "Like I thought, you have a fever." You swatted his hand away.

"Today's practice is important, I can't miss it. I'll be fine, Tsukki, since when do you worry about me?" You turned around, heading towards the gym, when your head hurt just a bit too much. You winced, and faster than your brain could process what was happening, you were already falling to the ground and everything went dark.

...

"Oh, you're awake." You opened your eyes and saw Tsukishima waiting for you. You were in the nurse's office from the looks of it, and Tsukishima got up with some water and medicine.

"Here, take this." You nodded and followed his command.

"Thanks," you said, rubbing your head.

"Hm. You know how you asked when I started to worry about you?" he asked, sticking a thermometer into your mouth.

"Hm? Oh... yeah." You recalled how you had said something like that right before you passed out. You took the thermometer out and glanced at the temperature.

103.2. You hid the thermometer behind your back, knowing Tsukki would not be happy with your temperature.

"The answer was always; I always care about you, even if I don't seem like it."

"Wow, Tsukki..." It surprised you; you never thought you would hear anything nice coming out of Tsukishima's mouth.

"Also, you act like a five year old sometimes, people can't help but worry about you," he added. You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't help but smile. "Now hand over the thermometer. I didn't forget." Sighing, you reluctantly gave it to him.

"Welp, will you at least cuddle with me until I get better?" you asked with pleading eyes.

"Come on, Y/N. You're contagious..." You pouted, and he sighed. "Fine."

BUT ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU ENJOYEDDDD!! THANKS FOR READING BABE

this is 100% not edited or proofread IM SORRY- IT MAY NOT EVEN MAKE ANY SENSE HAHSJFJRI

ANY THOUGHTS?? IM DYING TO KNOW OMG

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[watermelonlovershigh]

You Get Sick in the Back of an Uber

AN: so this was a story i have had in my drafts for like three months and just never found motivation to finish it. i decided to finish this first out of my drafts because it was one of the ones that had the most already written for it. unlike some of my others that don't have much written yet. and this was supposed to be longer but i got lazy and ended the end with no dialogue and shorted the story. but i guess that's fine because the main part of this was the uber incident and not necessary the aftercare. (i just love to always include aftercare whether its with sex or getting sick. unless its a blurb) @harryhoney-bee suggested number 1. on my voting post so thank you for requesting i finish this one shot idea that was in my drafts.

This story contains: puke, drunken person, caring husband

{ husband!harry - dad!harry - Grammys 2021 Harry - 4 kids (any age you imagine) }

word count: 1765

When you drink too much at the Grammys, you end up having to get sick in the uber ride home and Harry cares for you.

-------------------------

Back Story-

After the Grammys, Harry and I decided to go to the little after party that was being held for the Grammy attendees. We knew we couldn't stay too long because we had to get back home to our kids. They were currently with our babysitter but she couldn't stay all night. She has to go home at some point. So we made sure to watch the time.

At the afterparty, drinks were flowing. I haven't drank in a while due to the fact I had been pregnant not too long ago. This was the first night I was allowed to drink and I decided to do just that. Harry was aware of me drinking and promised to watch and take care of me. Though we were at this afterparty for him, he wanted me to let loose and have some fun as well.

But what he wasn't expecting was for me to drink the amount I did. I didn't mean to go over board. It just kind of happened. People handing out drinks left and right and next thing I knew, I was drunk. Not tipsy, drunk. When Harry noticed how drunk I was, he decided it's best to go home.

And because Harry also had drank some alcohol, he wasn't in a state to drive either. By no means was he as drunk as me though. Maybe just tipsy but he didn't want to risk it. So he decided to call an uber for us.

--------------------

Current-

We're sitting in the back of the uber on our way home. It's about an hour drive since the city is crowded with traffic due to the Grammys. Right about now is when I regret drinking any alcohol tonight. Because I haven't drank in over a year, my body isn't use to the poison running through my veins. So you could say I'm a lightweight now. My head is throbbing. My vision is blurry. My stomach is turning. Lets just say I regret all my decisions tonight that lead to me feeling this way.

"Harrrrry I don't feel good." I manage to slur out.

"You probably should have stuck to champagne instead of vodka my love." Harry responds, while stroking my hair out of my face in a gentle manner.

Another 10 minutes pass and I'm feeling very nauseous. I'm trying to focus on my breathing but it's not working.

"Harry my stomach hurts." I whisper with hooded eyes.

"Like you're gonna be sick?" Harry questions with panic.

I nod my head and hear Harry asking the driver if he can pull over.

"Can you pull over? My wife is feeling ill." Harry frantically questions the uber driver up front.

"I'm sorry sir but this freeway is packed and there is no way I can get to the side of the road right now." the driver says with a bit of an attitude.

Hearing that made me and Harry both start to panic.

"Well do you have any sick bags in here?" my husband asks.

"Sorry I don't." the driver retorts in a uncaring tone. What kind of uber driver doesn't carry sick bags for when drunks potentially need a ride but feel like they are going to be sick?

I just barley hear Harry let out a frustrated sigh and turn to me.

"Try and relax love. Take deep breaths for me, alright." Harry whispers while rubbing my back as I'm slumped over his body, too disoriented to even hold my head up.

About 3 minutes later, I feel vomit rise up my throat. There isn't much I can to do. The driver already said he couldn't pull over, nor does he have sick bags. I sit up from my slouched position and clasp a hand over my mouth. My legs are bouncing up and down. I'm trying desperately not to puke but I'm doing a poor job. Harry is sitting up with me, trying to comfort me but his words are all a blur at this point.

"If you have to be sick darling, let it out. I'll pay to get this uber cleaned, okay." Harry states in my ear. I know he'd rather not have me puke on the floor of the uber, right beside him, but he can tell I'm struggling and in discomfort.

Hearing those words was all the conformation I needed. I remove my hand from my mouth and let out a gush of alcoholic bile spew from my mouth and onto the backseat floor board. Harry gathers my hair in his hands so it's not in my face. My vomit splatters all over my legs and on the bottom of Harry's Gucci suit. I'd feel terrible about that if I wasn't so out of it, but my mind is a mushed up blur.

"Shhh, that's it. You're alright." Harry reassures me. The uber driver lets out a sigh of disgust, but this is truly his fault that I'm throwing up in his uber right now anyways.

Heave after heave, I let out more of the alcohol that was poisoning my system, right onto the floor. It's not a pretty sight. I'm having a cold sweat and my body is trembling. Though Harry has a weak stomach, when it comes to his wife (me) or his kids, he can always handle a bit of throw up. Or a lot like currently. It's like a fatherly/husband instinct that comes over him and he feels only adrenaline, not yuck.

Finally I feel my stomach relax and I sit up, breathing heavy with vomit dripping down my chin. Without thinking, I wipe it off with the back of my hand and smear it on my already ruined dress. "Feeling better?" Harry asks in a low tone.

"Mhmm." I hum, not really feeling like talking. My drunken brain has cleared up some from the majority of the alcohol being out of my system, but I still feel the after affects drinking brings. I just lean my head on Harry's shoulder for the rest of the ride home and allow the cool breeze to blow on my face. The uber driver did us all a favor by rolling the windows down so we didn't suffocate on the nasty smell of my sick.

---------------------

After-

When we arrived home, Harry payed the uber driver, not giving much of a tip and told him that he'd have someone clean his car out in the morning. As well as a half assed apology for my incident beings it could have been prevented. Then carefully, Harry lifted me out the uber and carried me into our Los Angeles home. Good thing our kids were all asleep because they shouldn't have to see their mother like this. Covered in puke and half drunk.

Harry took me to our bathroom and quickly ran down stairs to pay our babysitter, hoping she didn't question my appearance when she saw my state as we came through the front door. She didn't thankfully and left soon after her check was handed to her. Harry came back up to where he left me and helped me clean up and get ready for bed.

He stripped us of our vomit covered clothes and helped me into the big walk-in shower we have in our master bathroom. Then after he delicately washed our bodies along with my hair, he helped us out and dried us off. We brushed our teeth, me with the help of my husband because I was still a bit dizzy. After we're clean of sick and smelt fresh, he helped me put some panties and a t-shirt over my nude body and boxers on himself; just incase our kids woke up and needed us for whatever reason.

Harry helped me into our large bed and tucked me in, bending down to kiss my forehead. Then he walked down to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water and a bucket incase I needed to be sick again at some point through-out the rest of the early morning. When he had all the items he intended to grab, Harry came back to our bedroom where I was already passed out with sleep.

So he just set the water on my night stand and the bucket on the floor, beside my side of the bed. Then Harry quietly exited our room and went to each of our child's bedrooms to make sure they were fine and still asleep like they should be, which they thankfully were.

When everything was done and taken care of, Harry turned the bedroom lights out and slipped in the covers with me. He helped my body scoot over and I cuddled into his warm body. I didn't realize it in my state of sleep but I knew when I awoke, I'll be thinking about how grateful I am to have a wonderful husband like Harry.

He takes such good care of me. He didn't get upset that I drank too much on his special night and accidently got wasted. He never once got upset that I basically got throw up on his expensive suit tonight in the uber. He didn't get annoyed that he had to shower both me and him past midnight, though he was exhausted. Harry loves taking care of me (and our kids) and wouldn't wish for any other life. Even when his life becomes chaotic and stressful. Harry loves his family dearly and his family love him just as much or more.

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[yeahimaloser]

Oh, To Be In Love 4

This story is about how you and your best friend, Hawks, learn to be in love.

Hi, I’m really sorry this took so long to write! But I’m currently working on requests so I’m trying to balance both!

but honestly, I’m pretty proud of myself with this chapter, it’s pretty angsty and I don’t really write a lot of angsty stuff so I hope I did ok!

Reader has no pronouns mentioned

Warnings: Panic attack, blood, fighting

Word count: 2k

Oh, To Be In Love part 1, Oh, To Be In Love part 2, Oh, To Be In Love part 2.5, Oh, To Be In Love part 3

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You sighed to yourself. 

Were you to forward? You just kissed the man that you’ve been in love with for years, who more than likely, didn’t have any romantic interest in you. 

Some days being in love with Hawks felt like a stab in the gut, where your anxieties were spilling out of you and you couldn’t stop it. 

But other days felt like you were soaring in the clouds, above every ounce of worry in the world. The feeling of happiness would surround you and make you feel untouchable.

But today was not one of the good days. You felt sick like, your nerves felt crossed in your stomach. 

Walking out of the restaurant, alone, you heard whispers on the street. But you didn’t pay them much mind, you just moved through the people and streets, still feeling your nerves in the pit of your stomach.

But your thoughts couldn’t get him off your mind. His smile when he left, his voice rang in your head, his flowing blond hair, and his golden piercing eyes felt lost in your mind. 

You tried to get your racing heart under control, thinking to yourself, ‘Seriously, he’s off fighting some villain and you're more concerned with whether or not he might like you?’

To say you felt like shit would be an understatement. You just couldn’t help but overthink that stupid, simple kiss. All you could think was how Hawks would just blow it off as a friendly thing, but deep down, a part of you wanted him to know how you felt about him. A part of you just wanted to get it over with, to stop overthinking this whole thing.

But that was practically impossible. 

You loved your friendship with Hawks, you loved being friends with him, loved hanging out with him. And if you told him about your feelings? That all could go away, everything you love could slip through your grasp. And that was the scariest outcome.

You didn’t want him to leave you, and if you had to suffer in silence, so be it.

The TV station brought you back to your senses as you walked past a crowd all near the station, “Pro hero Hawks is reportedly in a fight with a supervillain, reports say he isn't very good at the moment. We’re going to the scene right now…”

You felt your head buzz, all other noise seemed to be blocked out by a single thought.

Hawks is in danger.

Your body moved on its own, your nerves acting before your mind could keep up.

No, Hawks was the number two pro hero, he was supposed to be ok. He would always be ok.

But your gut told you to run, to run to him. You had to, you had to make sure he was ok.

It felt like your legs couldn’t move faster like they were practically led. You felt so lightheaded, but you kept moving, you had to.

Sure, Hawks had gotten into a lot of fights, and sure he would get battered and pummeled sometimes. But you couldn’t get that picture out of your mind, the picture the TV had shown of Hawks.

It was him, his arm looked broken and his wings looked almost completely out of feathers. The sight was like something out of your worst nightmares, seeing him in that state.

You didn’t even know what you could do about it, you felt so powerless.

You could never be able to help Hawks in times like these, and you hated it so much. It always felt like a punch in the gut, to realize you couldn’t help protect the man you love. 

Why were you so useless? Why did you have to be like this, to be a powerless civilian?

One time, you had brought up being Hawks’ sidekick as a joke, but he suddenly turned serious when the topic was brought up.

“No way. Even if you had the most powerful quirk to ever exist, I would never let you be my sidekick.”

You felt your heart sink. Well, you didn’t expect that response.

But you masked it with humor, “Pffft, why’s that? Scared I would take your place at the top?”

But Hawks shook his head, “No, because I would be too worried, I mean,” he turned to you, giving you a hero winning smile, “I think I would be too worried about protecting you!”

Your heart leaped into your chest, your face and body became flushed. You tried your best to play it off.

“Oh please, I could take care of myself!’

But all you could think about was that, about how he always seemed to want to protect you, why couldn’t you do that for him? Why couldn’t you protect him?

He had always been everyone's hero, including yours. Someone needed to be his saving grace, and you repeatedly wish it would be you. You cared so much for him, so much that you were willing to risk your life on protecting him.

You didn’t even realize the tears in your eyes, they spilled down your face as you ran. Your mind seemed to be running faster though.

Please, please just let him be ok. Please, do anything to me. Kill me, just let him be safe and ok.

You didn’t know who you were praying to, all you know was how you needed him to be ok.

When you finally reached the scene, the debris of multiple buildings and other objects littered the ground. But you didn’t care, all you cared about was seeing Hawks, making sure he was ok. You needed to see him, to see his smiling face, hear his voice putting your mind at ease.

You felt people push you back, police officers telling you to stop.

But you couldn’t care, you just couldn’t.

You pushed past everything in your way.

And that's when you saw him, that's when you stopped running.

Your whole body seemed to collapse in on itself, your knees felt weak.

He looked so bad, blood running down his face. His arm looked so bad, he looked so bad.

Before you could comprehend what you were doing, you screamed with all the force you could muster.

“HAWKS PLEASE!”

Please what? What did you want from him?

And then it hit you, you knew what you wanted from him.

“PLEASE LIVE!” You saw his head snap up to look at you, shook, fulling his face as he saw you.

You tried to make your way to him, to try to protect him. But you felt people, who you could only assume we're here to save you from the villain that Hawks was fighting.

But you couldn’t care, you didn’t care. To hell with you, you were fine to die if it meant he was ok.

Maybe it was the adrenaline talking, but you needed to get to him. And you felt you could, you felt like you could.

The blood was rushing to your head but you couldn’t care, you just needed him.

But the heroes that were pushing you back, most likely they just thought that someone else that you knew was on the scene. 

But no, it was Hawks. All you could think was him.

His arm looks so bad, why can't I go to him? Why can't I help him? Please let me help the man I love.

Eventually, though, your stress and nerves seem to block out the adrenaline. Everything seemed to push you back when all you wanted to do was run forward, to run into Hawks's arms and hold him. To protect him.

Why wouldn’t the world let you run to him? Why?

Why were you so pathetic? He was a hero, and a part of you felt like you should know this, to know that he would be ok. 

But to you, he wasn’t just a hero.

He was your love.

He was your friend.

He was the reason you got up in the morning.

He was the reason you laughed.

He was the reason you lived.

You didn’t know when you got to the paramedics, the whole thing was a huge blur to you. Mostly because all you cared about was seeing Hawks.

One of the heroes walked up to you, “Civilian, what’s your name?” “Y-Y/N,” your voice was so shaky, so uncertain. Maybe it was your adrenaline running down, maybe it was your still intense anxiety over Hawks, maybe it was both.

“What you did was totally and utterly reckless,” the hero sighed, “what were you even thinking?”

“I,” you paused. You didn’t even know, what were you even supposed to say? Hawks is my best friend that I’ve been in love with for years and I need to make sure he's ok?

No. when you and Hawks first started your relationship he told you how the whole thing needed to be a secret, how for the both of you it needed to be between the both of you.

This was one of the many moments that you hated that fact, you hated having to pretend that he was just a hero. Because to you, he was so much more, he meant so much to you. He was your friend.

“I’m sorry sir, I- I just thought that one of my friends was still there.”

The hero just sighed, “Alright, I suppose that makes the most sense. But next time, just tell one of us. We are better equipped to handle the situation.”

“Y-yes sir, I-I’m sorry,” you stuttered.

“It’s alright, your adrenaline was probably driving you to do that. But it sounded like you were yelling something,” the hero gave you a quizzical look.

“O-oh, I was just shouting for my friend sir, I-I’m sorry,” you looked down at your feet.

It wasn’t a full lie, but it felt like one.

The hero patted you on your shoulder, “Don’t worry about it, it’s a very human thing to do. Just go and calm yourself, you’re coming down from an adrenaline rush.”

You nodded, that was probably the reason you felt so weird.

But as you were about to sit down, you saw him.

It looked like Hawks came out of the fight, but not unscathed.

His arm still looked horrible, he had almost no feathers on his wings, his face was so, so bloody.

He was being carried on a stretcher, but he was fighting off the paramedics.

You were confused, why was he fighting them off? What was happening? Was his head ok?

But then his eyes landed on you, and time froze.

It was only for a moment, but when your eyes locked he calmed. His body relaxed, his shoulders slumped, and he gave you a relieved looked.

You wanted to cry, if he was looking for you it meant that he wasn’t all gone, that he had won with his life.

Hawks seemed to relax a lot more after seeing you, he let the paramedics take him away.

You wanted to run to him, to console him and help him relax more. To make sure he was really ok.

But you steaded yourself, this was not the first time this had happened. But it was the first time you felt this powerless.

Before he left the scene you promised yourself, a promise to yourself that next time you wouldn’t be as powerless.

@roko-ppk

[sicklylittlesnowflake]

I got a les mis prompt for you! Enjolras is sick and doesn't want to tell his friends worried of being a burden to them. He tries to hide all his symptoms till he collapses during a meeting or rally and everyone is worried thinking he is dying or something. Turns out the illness isn't serious but he collapsed from dehydration mixed with exhaustion so he needs medicine, fluids and rest they have a group movie night/sleepover at his apartment to make sure he is okay and following instructions

(I love writing Enjolras so much!!! Have some more of my golden sun..who I also hurt a lot sorry lol..this got real angsty reaaal quick.)

Enjolras couldn’t always be their fierce, indestructible leader.

In fact, he thought himself as anything but that. He wasn’t their perfect, glowing icon, as much as he wished he could be. He wanted to be that for everyone, wanted to be this beacon of hope for his friends but he just wasn’t. Sometimes his friends forgot that pristine marble statues could break.

He had his down days. He had days where he just felt blue.

There were days Enjolras couldn’t find the heart to speak to anyone and withdrew away from everyone. He’d feel so exhausted and down for no particular reason. He’d just feel sad and dull and grey.

Sometimes Enjolras just felt so blue he’d feel detached from himself. He’d walk around in a derealised, abstract like world in a feverish like haze and let the world go by and he couldn’t even process anything. Nothing felt real. He’d forgot about himself, neglect himself and try to stay up later and keep working to try and feel, try and force himself to feel alive.

He wouldn’t go to bed, and when he did he would lay awake for a long period of time lost in his own thoughts and feeling anxious. He’d forget to drink and eat, feeling so lost and distracted that he just forgot.

At some point during all the late, sleepless nights and his lack of self care, the weird faux feverish haze he’d be experiencing actually became a feverish haze.

When he woke up with a splitting headache he knew he had taken ill, but there was no way Enjolras was going to tell anyone that he had.

They were only days before their rally, and they were truly hectic days. Everyone was busy and stressed trying to organise things and making sure everything was okay. Enjolras beyond proud of his amazing friends, and could not find the heart to burden their shoulders any more. It was a fever, he was going to be okay.

Enjolras dug through his closet, searching desperately for his winter clothing. It was nearing the end of the summer, but it was still pretty warm and hot. At least according to the weather app. But Enjolras was shaking furiously, and it was unbelievably hard to get out of his blankets that morning. Enjolras yanked an article of clothing out of his closet,  pulled on his signature red sweater that hadn’t been taken out since the early spring.

Enjolras pulled on his thicker jeans and shuddered, wrapping his arms around himself in an effort to keep himself warmer. He lets out a scratchy, rough cough against the crook of his arm and winces as his body is racked at the sheer force.

Once Enjolras finished, he sniffles weakly and splutters for a little. He wipes his nose tiredly on his jumper sleeve, his nose squishing against the material roughly. He looked up to see himself in the little mirror on the wall and cringed at his own appearance. He’s white as snow, besides his cheeks which are saturated a deep red. He’s got dark circles, and he looks like shit.

Suddenly there was a soft knock at the door of his apartment, causing Enjolras to jump slightly. He cleared his throat, quickly trying to tame his messy, golden curls as he rushed over to his door. He opened it to reveal Combeferre and Courfeyrac.

Courfeyrac was beaming, glowing with energy and looked about the epitome of health. A vast contrast to how Enjolras looking. He was radiating with sunshine, smile so wide and in black shorts and a bright yellow, thin t-shirt. The sight of him in such thin clothing made Enjolras shudder.

“You ready, mon ami?” He beamed.

Enjolras opened his mouth to speak, but was quickly cut off by a sharp, congested little cough he had to swiftly cover with his wrist, whipping his head away. He grinned sheepishly, “I am. Lets go?”

Courfeyrac seemed unfazed by it all and was more than willing to leave, but was quickly stopped by Combeferre who had an eyebrow raised. He clearly wasn’t very thrilled with the gruff edge to Enjolras’s voice, and the look of his face.

“Enj..what’s wrong? You look..you don’t look great,” Combeferre frowned.

Enjolras shook his head, chuckling lightheartedly.

“I-I’m okay, I promise, just a little jittery. We’ve..got a huge number turning up, bigger than we’ve had in a while,” Enjolras reassured, flashing then his winning, charming smile although it is a little flat. He felt way too sick and empty to be his usual, radiant self.

Combeferre took it for now, sighing fondly and tossing Enjolras’s hair about, “You’re going to be alright, E. It’s going to be okay. Lets go, now.”

Enjolras gave him a half hearted grin, trying to ignore how heavy and miserable he felt. He felt like he was about to collapse, and he couldn’t walk in a straight line. He wobbled hopelessly, desperately wishing that he could just see the world straight. He didn’t even feel at one with his own body. How was he supposed to make people feel whole and alive, when he couldn’t even feel alive at all?

The next hour went by in a daze.

It didn’t even feel real, like he was trapped in some abstract impressionist painting. He didn’t feel connected to his own body and just watched the world as it went by. He watched an empty clearing suddenly pile in with people, and then there was hundreds. It so much, and Enjolras felt both a weird culmination of overwhelmed and nothing at all.

Enjolras watched as people yelled with passion, hope and energy. It was exhilarating, and it was amazing, but it drained Enjolras to the very bone. He felt like there was a heavy weight hanging over his shoulders, and he was slumping and he felt so sick. He was shivering hard, desperately wishing he was in bed, and he loathed himself for it.

The Cause was so much bigger than some fever. It was so much bigger than his illness. He was such an awful person for this. There were so many people out there who needed to be enlightened, and yet he couldn’t just make himself cop on a little bit and feel less empty. He needed to be their fierce, passionate leader, but he was nothing, and Enjolras felt like such a horrible burden.

Enjolras blinked blearily, smothering a harsh, rugged cough against the crook of his arm. He squeezed his eyes shut as a pang of pain stabbed at his lungs as he coughed, balling his fists as his body convulsed with the intensity of his coughing. He was taken out of it by a warm hand on his shoulder, and it felt amazing against his freezing frame.

Enjolras turned around, and when his blue eyes met green he instantly felt a little better. For a moment he felt a little less empty, and somewhere inside of him a little spark ignited and it was a little warmer. Grantaire had this weird little magical ability to ground him and hold him steady when he seemed to be floating away.

Grantaire’s smile was soft, and his eyes were sparkling with the kindest eyes Enjolras had ever seen, it was melting him, “Hey, good luck out there.”

Enjolras couldn’t help the fond smile that wiped across his face, and the pink dusting his cheeks took as he looked away shyly. “..T-thanks..”

Grantaire only smiled, and hesitated for a moment, looking a little shaky and unsure, but then he was firm and so sure.

“..I just..wanted to let you know that..I believe in you.”

Enjolras froze up, and suddenly he felt a lot less empty and more something. He felt alive, the spark igniting into a burning fire.

“..You’ve given me something to believe in, Enjolras..and uh..I’m not really sure if you believe in yourself..I’ve noticed you’ve been a little distant the past week and not quite yourself. Not our usual, strong, invincible leader. I hope you’re okay.”

Enjolras laughed awkwardly, giving him a sad little smile, “Thank you for the concern..but uh..you’re slightly wrong there, I’ve been more myself this past week than I’ve ever been. I’m not really your strong invincible leader…u-uh i..”

Tears pricked his eyes as he tried to wipe them away and he chuckled nervously, “Im just not. Not really that. I-I’m really sorry.”

Grantaire’s eyes widened, laced with a mixture of sadness, concern, guilt and a lot more that Enjolras couldn’t really read in his fevered state. Then a moment of clarity washed over his eyes.

“..I never said I believed in this strong, invincible leader.”

Enjolras looked up to see his loving smile.

“..I said I believed in you. So get out there, tiger. You can do it.”

A tear spilled from his eyes, which he quickly wiped away as he let out a shaky laugh and smile. He nodded, turning away from him and facing the curtain. He took in a deep breath, closing his eyes and thought of Grantaire, shutting out all the parts of himself that told him he couldn’t. All he could hear was Grantaire telling him he could and he felt so alive.

He stepped out onto the stage and he shone.

Everything went by in a weird blur, all he can really remember was passionate screaming, a fire blazing in his heart as people cheered him on. He felt exhilarated, this hopeful, euphoric buzz spreading and dancing within his veins as this energy burst into flame inside of him.

His illness would come back and bite him to remind himself of its sickened state, he would have to turn away to cough for a while. Sometimes he’d have to grip tight onto the podium as a wave of nausea hit him once his headache intensified. Waves of coldness would hit him and he would shake violently, and heat waves would wash over him, so scorching hot he was close to toppling over and fainting.

But none of this mattered.

What mattered was the hundreds of people with hope, hope for a better tomorrow. A better world, a kinder world. He could see the hope and enlightenment in their eyes, ablaze with determination. They were being inspired by his words, but more than anything he was being inspired by them. He felt amazing.

Then it was over, and the crowd was roaring and clapping. There was so much happening. He took a small, humble bow before he made his way back stage, to where his friends awaited.

Their faces were lit with happiness, they were all glowing. Their eyes twinkled, smiles wide and bright, arms open. They looked so loving Enjolras wondered why he ever thought he was a burden.

He could faintly hear his friends congratulating him and saying other positive things, but they were all being drowned out by a loud ringing in his ears. His headache intensified, as he tried to inch closer to them but his body felt so weak and exhausted that every step he took leeched his energy.

Grantaire’s arms were open wide for him, and as much as Enjolras wanted to melt into his embrace and fall into him he couldn’t go much closer because his knees were buckling and his vision was dotting and darkening.

Then he was free falling and the last thing he heard was the horrified screams of his friends.

It’s chaos.

Their sun and moon, collapsed on the floor. Weakened and sick, Grantaire’s not even sure if he’s breathing.

In these hectic, horrifying moments he’s suddenly realising how much a world without Enjolras would pain him. How empty that world would be. And right now his beautiful world with Enjolras in it is teetering on the edge to becoming a world he does not want to live in.

Everyone is panicking, but Combeferre is running and checking for a pulse. Enjolras is alive.

Grantaire doesn’t even know much time has passed because he’s just standing there with his heart racing scared that he’s lost him. That’s a thought Grantaire’s heart cannot bear.

Combeferre tells them he’s alright, that he’s just fevered and sick, and that he needs to go home, all will be fine.

But until Enjolras is awake and he can see those beautiful blue eyes shining with its charming sparkle nothing is fine.

When Enjolras wakes up he’s snuggled up in his favourite blanket on his couch, and he can faintly hear the beginning of the Breakfast Club in the background. Someone is softly caressing and playing with his curls, and it feels so nice. His head is lying on a soft little pillow taken from his bed, on top of someone’s lap. He looks down and sees his feet plopped onto Courfeyrac’s lap, who is happily munching away at some popcorn.

Enjolras looks a little further to see Combeferre sitting on the arm rest next to Courfeyrac and is sharing his popcorn, one hand placed firmly on his shoulder. He stirs and looks down and sees the sleeping bags and blowup mattresses scattered across his floor. Cosette is lying her head on Marius’s shoulder, who’s cuddling her and resting his chin on the top of her hair. Eponine is sitting near them, with Feuilly next to her as they share a packet of gummy bears. Jehan and Bahorel are sharing a bag of crisps, Joly is drinking a glass of water, Bossuet is wiping up some spilled soda on the floor, and Musichetta is coming back from the entrance holding a few boxes of pizza.

The person who is stroking his hair accidentally strokes against his nose, and Enjolras’s breath hitched twice before he shifts to cover his sneeze with the crook of his arm.

Grantaire chuckles softly, “Sorry, did I wake you?”

Enjolras looked up to see him and he blushed hard, the rush of emotions suddenly making him aware of his headache. He shook his head.

“No, I woke up a minute before that,” His voice was hoarse and croaky. He sounds awful.

Combeferre frowned and felt Enjolras’s forehead, gets up and returned shortly afterwards with a glass of water, medicine, and a damp towel. He passed the glass of water and medicine for him to consume. Enjolras obliged.

“You had a pretty dangerous fever earlier, E, and you were extremely dehydrated so you passed out. Why didn’t you say anything?” Combeferre scolds worriedly.

Enjolras laid back against Grantaire and snuggled against him, curling up as Grantaire draped the damp cloth over his forehead.

“..I don’t really know,” Enjolras said shyly.

He could feel everyone’s worried gazes.

“Enjolras, you know you can speak to us about anything,” Cosette cooed gently.

“It’s nothing, I just didn’t realise,” Enjolras brushed off quickly.

Grantaire sighed, “E, you know it isn’t that.”

Enjolras looks around wildly, and realised he can’t win, and pushed himself off of Grantaire to sit up. He’s a bit awkward, uncomfortable from being so vulnerable and feeling overwhelmed by everyone pausing the movie and turning around to look at him softly.

Before Enjolras even opens his mouth tears are already pricking his eyes, “I-I..just..had such a bad week..I-I felt so..so alone..which is really stupid because you’re all here for me and I just..felt so sad. I forgot to take care of myself and I-it’s..b-been tough..”

Enjolras’s voice cracked and he swallows, sniffling and looking away, “U-uh..I just felt like such a burden, you know? Y-you all see me as this amazing leader b-but the truth is, you guys, I’m just not. I’m so fucking weak. I-I’m so sorry I’m not but I’m just a stupid fucking boy who w-wants a better world.”

“Enj..you should’ve said so..” Courfeyrac said sadly.

“..You’re always telling us to reach out and you’re always here to listen to us, but you need to realise that it also applies to you, okay? We’re all here for you,” Combeferre said kindly.

Marius offers him a soft smile,  "And you are not weak. You’re one of the strongest people I know.“

"But you also have to start telling us these things, all of us would’ve been more than willing to be there for you. You really scared us, earlier, Enj..we thought you had died,” Bahorel says softly.

Grantaire wraps his arms around him and brings him close, embracing him with so much love and care, “Enjolras..we don’t need you to be fucking superman. You being just a guy, is so much more inspiring that way. A human can change the world, a human with flaws, it shows me there is still hope. You’ve given me hope again, Enjolras.”

Grantaire presses a shy, soft kiss against his cheek, “..We are right here, right by your side.”

Enjolras lets out a shaky laugh, and lets himself melt into Grantaire’s loving embrace and right here in his arms the world feels a lot lighter.