#mha sickfic

[sickiehugs]

Midoriya and Bakugo both managing to get themselves sick during a mission, but neither one wanting to admit it. Bakugo refuses to show any sign of what he considers "weakness" while Midoriya prioritizes the mission over his own wellbeing. However, both of them realize the other is unwell, and they end up trying to force each other to rest while denying their own sickness

Ohh this is so good!!

At the end they just... rest together...

They don't even suggest it, they just end up being like "...whatever" and snuggling, then just promising eachother to pretend it never happened.

[compendiumofdecay]

shrill. tenko shimura (t.shigaraki) (x reader)

NSFW. 18+. MDNI. DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT. emetophobia warning! major trigger warnings (listed below)!

cw: post-war tomura, uses tenko as his name again, canon non-complaint (fuck canon i'll write the ending), trauma, physical disabilities, mental impairment, vomiting, graphic depictions of violence, graphic description of illness, blood, panic attack, complex ptsd, abuse mentioned, suicidal ideation, intrusive thoughts, unhealthy coping mechanisms, age regression due to trauma, hurt/comfort trope

...

the hall light flickers with an intensity akin to rising heartbeats. sweat glistens on tenko's head in beads, dripping softly onto the linoleum tiles in the bathroom. he's shivering, it's so fucking cold here- too fucking cold. but he can't move, he's stuck here like a caught fly as waves of nausea overtake him.

the sun is coming up brightly in the small vented window, its painful to feel it beating down on his pale skin. he's too scared to move a muscle though, any shifting of his body will send him lurching into the ceramic bowl again. it hurts.

you didn't notice him even getting out of bed. it was during the earlier hours of the night, so he made sure to slink silently from under the thick duvet and pad off to the bathroom slowly, though his body was begging him to hurry faster. not again, not again, fuck.

it had been a year since the war ended. four months since he'd finally been rehabilitated completely, though he still had to see specialists and therapists and psychiatrists weekly, still had to deal with well-visits and physical and quirk therapy, still had to watch everyone who tried to kill him make it big on TV. he hated it. he hated being doted on, being studied like a foreign chemical, forced through interviews and trials and reports. most of all, he hated how you looked at him now. hated the way your eyes softened a little too much every time he spoke, hated how you'd remind him to take his meds of help him carry things, how you'd hand him his cane or urged him to use the chair. god, he hated it all so much, and had nowhere to even put that hate to use anymore. instead, it nestled into the empty pit inside of him left behind after all-for-one's death, the unfamiliar and disturbing chill of grief and silence. something he hadn't felt since he was a young child. he hated how juvenile he felt.

the nightmares never stopped. even with the medication and the therapy, they remained a constant abhorrent stick in his mind. flashes of blood and viscera coating his body, his hands warm with death. the smell of burning flesh, gunpowder, rot. it oozed through the wrinkles in his brain like the passage of time, the memories coiling around him like a pit of snakes.

the worst part was the screaming. the cries of mothers and children as they were torn apart. students and heroes alike mourning mid-battle. it was the kind of violence that turned legends to ghosts, forever haunting tenko's mind and staining it eternally. he couldn't forget. he wasn't supposed to forget. no, no. he wasn't allowed to forget.

remember all of it. forever.

every night he'd wake in a cold sweat, bile burning in the back of his throat, sweat sticking him to the crisp linen. tears overtaking his body, the feeling of the hot wetness rolling down his cheeks reminding him of the splattering guts against his skin. it all felt the same, burning and sticky and uncomfortable. not his. not his blood to spill, not his tears to cry.

some nights you'd wake to the sound of him sobbing, of holding back pained screams in his sleep, and it'd urge you to hold him, to wipe his face dry and open the windows, even in the dead of winter. the cold air would soothe him some, combined with your cascading touch down his sore arms and legs, heavy with the ache of being rebuilt. other nights you'd shoot up in a panic to muffled gags and retches, knowing there'd be no way to help him now except with a hair tie and time.

it was rare you didn't wake, actually- but lately, the nights had been a bit easier, tenko would sleep through most of the night with nothing more than a short panic. it was something that could be easily settled with a bear-hug and slow sips of water. he was getting better, and it soothed a part of you.

life was especially difficult now. before, and you'd never admit this to him in a million years- but before, he had nurses and doctors to help aid him when he was sick, or struggling. but since he'd returned home, life was exponentially harder for the both of you. you knew he'd never forgive himself if you'd admitted that some days, it was hard. but you knew he already knew it anyways, and it killed you. you loved him so much, the miracle of him returning home with nothing more than a few crutches was a godsend in every aspect. sure, the mobility aids were a learning curve for you both, but you worked with them. he was getting used to the cane, he no longer rejected the kinesiology tape or the braces, and he had finally started to let you push his wheelchair around on his bad days. hell, sometimes he even would ask for help eating, when before, he'd let himself go hungry before even considering it.

so tonight, you slept. you slept deeper than you had in months, not even the loudest alarm could wake you now. it was as if all the stress, anxiety, fear had left your body as you laid down with him that night, holding your love close against you, feeling his heartbeat on your own chest. it lulled you off in seconds, and even he couldn't resist closing his eyes after a few minutes, comforted by your soft breaths and warm skin.

it was so god-damned bright. bright and cold, and empty. the land stretched for miles beyond sight, but the ground was pure-white beneath his crooked toes and dirty soles. he was naked, walking for eternity across this crisp path leading to nowhere.

a voice from behind him urges him to turn around. no, commands him.

"my son."

tenko's feet picked up the pace, his body flailing as he ran, feeling as if he was treading water. he couldn't run- he was stationary. being pulled to the ground like a magnet.

"face me, tomura." the voice commanded him again.

"im not tomura, that's not my name" tenko tried to argue, but no words escaped him. he slammed his eyes shut, squeezing them as tightly together as he could. but it didn't work. all-for-one towered above him now, his broken and shattered body dripping with an unknown substance as he brough his mottled hands to his face. he picked at the skin around his temples, down to his jaw, slowly peeling his face back. he threw the skin to the ground, staining the pure-white ground with a wet shuck, revealing himself to tenko. his face was smeared around, teeth and hair and eyes arranged randomly on the surface of flesh, like a tumor. his voice slowed and deepened, slurring around as he cried, a hideous wail the echoed through the land.

"what have you done to me? why have you betrayed me, my son?" his voice bellowed through heavy, wet sighs. it sounded multiplied, like a choir, the words carrying with various resonance and distortion.

tenko couldn't speak. his mouth felt gummy, like it'd been tarred shut, he couldn't even scream. "help" he thought over and over, to no one at all. "help me".

all-for-one's face began to slop off in chunks, the meat piling at tenko's feet, spraying across his skin. the cries amplified, until it had become a shrill, piercing ring that rattled tenko's ears, his head swelling with pressure. he tried to scream again, to no avail. the noise pierced into his brain, sending tendrils of darkness to enter his vision through eyes slammed shut, a throbbing ache thumping horrifically to the tempo of the wailing. he was enshrouded in the nothingness, unable to move or see or scream...

he woke with a guttural groan, a trapped scream almost. you laid in the bed, coiled around a pillow, still sleeping soundly. he smiled gently to himself, desperate to remind himself it was just a nightmare. a nightmare, that's all. but his body twisted still, his insides churning with an unbearable, feverish heat. he took a slow, deep breath in, doing his best to slip off the bed and onto the floor. he took small steps, not bothering for his cane, swaying as his stomach reeled. he swallowed the rising bile hurriedly as he cracked the door open, slipping out of the room and shutting the door fast enough to stumble into the bathroom with shaky legs and quivering belches.

lurching for the toilet, he heaved and retched, emptying the contents of his stomach rapidly, salty tears stinging his already burning face. fuck, it stings. but a part of him took comfort in the sickening release, like it was siphoning the darkness out of him. he had explained it to you once, after a particularly difficult night, that it felt like he was bloodletting, releasing the past from his tired body and sweating the fever away. you had denied it, discouraging him from making peace with it and handing him an anti-nausea pill.

you didn't like how sick he always was. you despised it, even. he was already so frail, so thin and willowy, the thought of him spending his nights hugging a toilet bowl and being happy about it made you ache with disdain. it wasn't something you could argue with him, but fuck man, it was like you were watching him fade every day that passed.

you had done your best with feeding him, overloading his body with nutrients and vitamins, making him drink green smoothies and wellness shots, handing him calorie-mates throughout the day, encouraging him to eat with his favorite foods and drinks. you even learned how to make ohagi* for him, but even with a stomach full of the BRAT diet and Zofran, he would drain himself dry.

he felt the resentment for it, too. but he was too tired to try and stop it. he knew you didn't and couldn't understand him deeply enough, no matter how badly it hurt the both of you. he couldn't make it stop. the nightmares, the vomiting, the crying, the screams...he couldn't stop any of it.

his body crashed over with a wave of exhaustion, and he let his body fall completely to the floor, slumping onto the cool tile, the contact against his burning skin shocking him a bit. he was too scared now to move, already worried he woke you previously with the sounds of him vomiting. he squeezed his eyes shut, the action feeling pointless since the nightmare, but to his surprise it was dark and calm inside. he shuddered, the tears knocking from his eyelids onto the floor gently, cascading down his face with soft, shaky sobs. all of this is pointless. everything hurts, nothing matters. i should have died. i wasn't meant to live. i miss my grandma. i miss mon. i miss mommy, and hana, and grandpa. the thoughts ran rampant through his shattered mind, repeating over and over in his head with the same piercing voice he heard in his nightmare. the war should have killed me, this isn't worth it. i'm not worth it, they deserve to live better. i hate myself. i hate this. it hurts, god it fucking hurts, i wish i had died.

you wake slowly, stretching out and turning over to find tenko gone from bed. fuck, you spring up, where is he?

you slip out of bed and find his cane still propped against the nightstand, his wheelchair sat in the corner of the bedroom. he must've walked. how long has he been gone for? fuck, i feel so bad. you open the door and tread down the hallway with featherlight steps, nervous to scare or shock him. the hall light was on, the bathroom door closed. you reach out for the door, bracing yourself for the impact of another night-terror from him.

you find him laid out on the ground, curled into a fetal position, the scent of sick hanging heavily in the bathroom. you shake off the pang of disgust as you crouch to meet him, placing a hand softly but deliberately to his back, alerting him of your presence.

"tenko? baby, are you alright?"

your voice feels distant to him at first, like he's hearing it through a wall or dome. he blinks away the film of tears and props himself on his arms, shaking slightly.

"i'm okay, sorry. nightmare again." he cracks out, but his eyes are bloodshot, his lips cracked and bleeding. you take him into your arms, holding him and brushing the strands of sticky hair out of his face. he sits rigid for a while, before his voice cracks, and in the softest voice, he cries out.

"i hate being sick".

suddenly, he breaks, falling into your shoulder, gripping onto you as tight as he can. he sobs thickly, staining your shirt with tears. your own eyes well up, feeling that burn in your throat as you rock with him, shushing him through your own bout of cries.

"it's okay, ko. i know" you repeat to him, pressing your lips to his head, kissing his soft white hair. you comb through it with your fingers as he bawls, letting him feel it.

as your fingers drag through the tendrils, you notice something. through tears, you tell him, "your hair is growing".

it doesn't seem to phase him until you repeat yourself, this time adding; "it's black".

he grabs at his head with a panicked look, eyes wide as he pulls from you. "what?"

"your hair baby, its growing in black!" you laugh through swallowed cries, and reach for the little cosmetic mirror on the counter. you start pulling his hair back gently to show him, handing the little mirror to him. his roots, a very small sliver of length, are a deep, rich black.

"my...my family had black hair". he sniffles, wiping his face with the back of his hand. you smile at him with a quivering lip, kissing his forehead. he hiccups as his crying slows, the fervent episode finally lulling. he nods and sets the mirror down, shaking still.

for some reason, it made you feel at ease. as if the growth of his hair was a sign that maybe, finally, he'd started to heal even a bit. and no, it wasn't going to be perfect. it was going to be like this, for a very long time. maybe even forever. it was hard. the grief was indescribable, you were mourning someone who stood right in front of you. the man you fell in love with, tomura shigaraki, had died. in his wake, he left tenko shimura. but not only did you have to get used to him and get to know him, so did he. and as long as you were together...it might not be as hard.

"we should get a puppy".

...

*a/n: 1. ohagi (botamochi) is a traditional japanese confectionary made with glutinous rice and a layer of red bean paste. it's typically consumed in the autumn and spring months; in autumn it is called ohagi because the color of the paste resembles the color of the "hagi" flower that blooms in japan's autumnal months, in the spring, it is called botamochi named after the peony flower that blossoms in spring. (source) 2. ohagi is shown as tenko's favorite food in mha volume 24, chapter 234: destruction sense.

[dudadragneel]

Sickfic Masterlist

Hello guys! This has been long due! 

But finally the masterlist is here! I’ll divide into the fandoms that I have added on the pinned post! I’ll put the link to this masterlist at the beginning of the pinned post as well! 

ANIME

My Hero Academia 

- Weight I. 

- Weight II.

- Quirks and their consequences

SPYXFAMILY 

- An Unsual Day 

One Piece 

Coming soon!

Trigun Stampede

Coming soon!

LOZ - Legend of Zelda

Coming soon!

KPOP

Stray Kids 

- Stubborn part I

- Stubborn part II

- Airplane sickfic

- Public Life

- Winter Cabin

- High School A.U

- Summer Vacation

- Consequences

- Responsibility

- An Eventful Weekend

- The Eldest Falls Ill

- Family Dinner

- A Tiring Trip

- A Dangerous Move

- Just a Case of Bad Luck

- Stressful Day

- Hectic Life

- A Date Gone downhill

- Don't Hide It

- The Only Hyung

- Of Heat and Pain 🔞

- So Close Yet So Far

- I hate to admit it

ENHYPEN

- Tour Hardships 

That’s it for now! I’ll update this as I post more sickfics!

See you soon!

[im-having-a-gender-crisis]

Ok listen up

If you like fics that are:

Hurt/comfort (big emphasis on the hurt)

Sickfic

And if you like MHA bkdk fics then oh boy do I have the fic for you

This bitch literally had me sobbing into my pillow then immediately kicking my feet and giggling at the amazing fluff and romance and akajhdbfkskann I just. Yall should read it. Rn

[kuwkedits]

☁️Comfy Cozy Monday☁️

The League take care of sick reader

Tags: c.c.m☁️ / comedy🎭

⚠️CW: Friendly Death Threats, Friendly Bullying

📍Authors Note: .. I’ve noticed my lov text are very Dabi and and Toga heavy do you all hate that or no 🧍 I’ll try to get better at including other members in general but 🧍 do you hate it or no 🧍

[thoumhawife]

Izuku taking Care of You When your Sick

Izuku, when he first finds out when your sick he panics, straight panics. No thoughts just absolutely freaking out. Once he calms down he’s right by your side, checking your temperature, opening every window if you feel hot and then bundling you up so you don’t become freezing.

Izuku, goes right to Bakugo, practically on his knees begging him to help him cook you something to make you feel better. Once Bakugo finally gives in he’s already in the kitchen trying to do as much as possible. After a long while of him getting yelled at by Bakugo about what spices and seasonings he can and can’t use, and what they were even making he rushes it straight to you. (Also insists that he feed you)

Izuku, who suggested multiple times that he should skip class just to take of you and make sure your safe.

Izuku, who makes a deal to come see you every break between classes he can get. Will literally leave the classroom and sprint straight to your dorm room during lunch just to make sure you eat and rest.

Izuku, who won’t let you leave your bed unless you really need to. You need something that less than a foot away from you, he’s grabbing it and giving it to you. You need to use the restroom, he’s walking you to and from there.

Izuku, who will cuddle you throughout the night, not caring if he gets sick in the process, he just wants to hold you and keep you safe.

Izuku, that would gladly hold your hair up/back if you were puking, then not even 30 seconds later running you a bath and going to the common room to get you food/fluids.

Izuku, who, if your muscles or limbs ached really badly, he would in a heartbeat massage them and run you a hot bath right after.

Izuku, while your resting would call his mom and ask her what medicine he needs to help you feel better, then once he hangs up he’s running to the nearest drug store to get those for you.

Izuku, who is literally begging Aizawa to let him bring you your home/school work just to basically do all of it for you. (Aizawa knows but just let’s it slide)

Izuku, the cinnamon roll who would literally be the best care taker for you when your sick.

[mirllop]

bakusick but not want to bakurest

Bakugou (sniffling): C'mon, fight! What're you holding back for? Kirishima: Dude, are you sure you're okay?? Bakugou: I SAID FIGHT, SHITTY HAIR! HRRRAAA– *cough* FUCK!! Kirishima: You're sick. Bakugou: No, I'm fucking not. Getting sick is for losers. Kirishima: Then the biggest loser is right in front of me. Bakugou (Bakurage): WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME?? YOU FUCKING–– *sneeze* Kirishima: ...Yeah, back to bed you go. Bakugou: FIGHT ME, HAIR BRAIN! FIGHT ME! **Kirishima drags a weakened (but struggling) Bakugou back to the dorms to rest**

I'd like to imagine that Kirishima literally just hoisted Bakugou up over his shoulder like santa's sack to haul his sick ass back to the dorms

i want to turn this into a full story. should i? it would be a sickfic/comedy combo. bakugou would insist on training even though he's sick... while kirishima would forcibly smother him with a rest regiment

[thesakuragarnet]

Touch-Starved

Summary: What does the hero do when the villain collapses?

Tags: s3xual tension, swearing, first kiss, sickfic, hurt/comfort, DabiHawks, Pre-Paranormal Liberation War Arc, enemies to lovers, Dabi-typical body horror and blood

Word Count: 2,904 words

AO3 link

Dabi never canceled. No matter what. He couldn’t let trivial things get in the way of his plans, and, in his eyes, that included his health. He didn’t care that he was running late; he would find some sort of excuse. In truth, he was walking as fast as he could; everything felt like Hell. He was supposed to change out his staples last night, but he didn’t have the energy or the stamina. He was pretty sure Twice had given the entire League the flu, as everyone in the hideout slowly developed the same symptoms. Dabi never really got sick; his immune system had to be rock solid given his condition. If it were any lesser, he’d be long dead. He always kept up with his surgical staples, changing them out before anything got infected. In the back of his mind, if he didn’t change and clean them tonight, he feared the worst would happen. 

Hawks checks his watch as he waits in the dark warehouse, wondering where his villain contact is lurking. He looks up and sighs, preparing to turn and fly back out of the skylight, when a harsh creak of a door echoes through the building. Dabi is in his normal disguise: a dark pullover hoodie zipped up all the way with dark aviator shades. 

“And I thought you weren’t gonna show,” Hawks smiles cheekily before registering the difference in Dabi’s normal demeanor. His gait is slightly slower, and his eyes seem a little droopier than usual.

"You feeling okay?" The hero asks cautiously, putting his hands in his pockets. Dabi doesn't answer, which is unusual. Hawks expected some snarky comment or backhanded insult. The villain remains silent, and he ever so slightly starts to sway. 

"Over...sl....slept," Dabi lies between jagged breaths, barely getting the last word out before Hawks realizes his knees are buckling beneath him. 

"Whoa, whoa!" Hawks exclaims as his feathers swiftly stop Dabi's head from cracking against the concrete floor. He hesitantly steps toward him, wary that this is some kind of ruse. However, Dabi is unconscious, weakly shivering. Something in the back of Hawks' brain whispers. This is the chance to get one of Japan's worst villains off the streets for good . He could kill him and leave him here. The Commission would want that. It'd be so easy in his frail state. Hawks' brain swirls between listening to the voice of his superior in his head and following what his heart compels him to do. 

...

...

Dabi slowly opens his eyes to find himself on a couch covered in a thin blanket with a cold rag on his forehead. 

"Ah! You're alive!" Hawks' chipper voice assaults his ears as the Pro Hero suddenly materializes beside him, staring down at him like he's some museum exhibit. 

"Where the fuck am I?" Dabi croaks, his voice coming out raspier than usual. 

"My apartment. You passed out on me, Dabs. I was worried I was gonna have to drag your ass to the villain hospital," Hawks chuckles, but his words make Dabi's blood run cold. 

"You wouldn't dare ," Dabi seethes, feeling his Quirk activate at the mere thought of it. That would make this entire plan fall to pieces. They'd take his blood. They'd trace him back to Endeavor. It would ruin everything . 

"I wanna stay on your good side, man. Of course I wouldn't do that to you," Hawks replies, oblivious to the wrath he just incited within his colleague. Before Dabi can respond, he feels a dull wave of nausea and dizziness sweep through his body, making his vision blur. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to breathe through his nose. Normally, he can't feel pain. His nerves are all fried and dulled. Everything feels muted and faint to him. It has been since he woke up from his coma after Sekoto Peak. Whatever Twice had spread around the League was strong . Still. He needs to change out the staples. At least the ones on his back. He pulled some of them when he made a run with the League last week. If he didn't replace them, he'd risk going septic. Unfortunately, he's quickly realizing he won't be able to do that by himself in this state. 

“Fuck,” He mutters under his breath, feeling anxiety bubble up in the pit of his stomach. He’d brought a bag of supplies with him; he’d been planning on changing them out on the way back…if he made it that far. Suddenly, he feels the rag disappear and warm, soft skin replaces it on his forehead; he flinches, eyes snapping open when he realizes Hawks is feeling him for a fever. 

“You’re not quite burnin’ up, but I don’t know exactly how your Quirk impacts body temperature,” Hawks murmurs absentmindedly as he pulls the back of his palm away from Dabi. The touch was gentle. It was genuine concern. Dabi hadn’t felt such a thing since before his accident. Someone caring after him. His mouth is suddenly dry, and he can’t find the words. 

“You coulda told me you were sick. I wouldn’t have minded postponing our meeting,” Hawks points out, a touch of empathy in his voice. Dabi wrestles with the notion of whether his empathy is from his hero routine or from authentic compassion. They’d had a weird relationship ever since Dabi recruited him. There was an uneasy tension between the two. It had gathered at an all-time high the night of the Nomu attack in Kyushu when Hawks held a blade to his throat. But…this wasn’t the same Hawks that he met in that warehouse months ago. There was no cold-blooded, mistrustful stare…only worry…only tender warmth in his eyes. Dabi averts his eyes, taking in his surroundings. He can see his bag sitting on a red nest chair in the corner of the living room. Could he trust him to do this? Another shock of pain ebbs through Dabi's body, and he winces. He doesn't want to ask him for help. The mere thought is making his stomach churn even more. Hawks could easily kill him. He's literally giving him the opportunity to stab him in the back. The villain takes a deep, shuddering breath as he slowly sits up, ignoring the haze in his vision from the movement. 

"Bag," He demands without elaboration, pointing to the pack, and Hawks raises an eyebrow before complying. Without a word, Dabi carefully slips off his hoodie, and Hawks' eyes widen as he takes in Dabi's surprisingly toned form. The villain gets on his knees and turns around so that his back faces the hero. 

"I...I need you to change out the ones on the top part of my back," Dabi mumbles, hating that he has to even say it out loud. It feels pathetic. It takes a minute for Hawks to register just exactly what the villain is asking, but, when the lightbulb goes off in his head, he kicks off his shoes and gets on the couch, kneeling to face him as he unzips the pack. Carefully, he pulls out a pair of hemostats, a pack of gauze, a loaded surgical staple gun, and a water bottle filled with a clear bubbling liquid labeled "ANTISEPTIC". The hero blinks. It feels like a setup. Maybe some sort of test. There's no reason why the villain should trust him...unless it's truly a life-and-death situation that he's in no shape to handle himself. His eyes scan Dabi's back, lighting up in recognition when he sees the slightly pulled staples on the top of the scar line. There's ten of them. 

"You want somethin' to bite down on?" Hawks offers as he leans forward, positioning the first staple between the tips of the hemostats. 

"Used to the pain," Dabi rasps, and the hero sniffs before he carefully pries the staple free from Dabi's skin. Dabi grits his teeth as he feels the faint tug, and he hears Hawks trying not to panic behind him. 

"SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! THERE'S BLOOD!" Hawks stammers, haphazardly tearing open the package of gauze as he watches the red bloom out from under his scars where the staple once held the skin in place. 

"They fucking hold me together, moron. Yeah, there's gonna be blood. You should've had the gauze ready and held it over before you pulled it out," Dabi snaps, and Hawks snorts. 

"Y'know, you didn't give me any instructions," The Pro retorts before pouring some of the bubbly liquid on a fresh gauze square. He peels back the blood-soaked piece of gauze and immediately replaces it. The faint hiss that results from the chemical reaction makes Hawks cringe, and Dabi winces. 

"Hold it for five seconds. Then staple it," Dabi mutters, and Hawks nods wordlessly. With a shaking hand, Hawks grabs the silver staple gun, eyeballing the target before he pulls away the gauze square. 

Ka-CHICK!

The familiar sound of the staple gun sends chills down Dabi's spine, and he grunts at the dull, muted pain. Tenderly, Hawks presses the other side of the antiseptic gauze onto the shining staple, dabbing away any residual blood. 

"One down," Hawks quips softly, and Dabi flexes out of habit, getting used to the new staple. The motion highlights the hidden muscles in his back, and the sight catches Hawks off guard. Hawks turns his attention to the second dirty piece of metal in the row. This one looks particularly painful, and half of it is already lodged out, the blood clotting to it in a messy scab. 

"This one's gonna be a bitch," The hero warns, and Dabi braces himself. When he removes the staple, the clot dislodges, and Hawks quickly covers up the open wound before it can start spurting. Dabi shudders as his vision blurs in and out. He feels so fucking weak. He was never gonna let Twice hear the end of it when he got back to the base. Dabi gulps, barely registering the click of the fresh staple being fastened into his skin. 

...

Ka-CHICK!

Dabi curses like a sailor as Hawks fastens the final staple into his back, and the Pro immediately starts blotting away the dried blood with the antiseptic. Breath hisses through Dabi's gritted teeth as the sting slowly numbs, and, finally, it's over. The second Hawks pulls the rag away, he puts his hand on Dabi's unburned shoulder, giving a light, comforting squeeze.

"Do I...can I put the Neosporin on 'em, too?" Hawks blurts. Dabi had almost forgotten about that. 

"Whatever, I guess," He huffs, wishing that he would stop talking; the situation couldn't possibly get even more awkward. He loathes the vulnerable position that he's found himself in. He should be intimidating the Pro, instead, he's being coddled by him. However, Dabi's bitter mindset dissolves when he feels Hawks' calloused hands massaging the scars on his back. It sounds cliché, but his touch feels like magic, expertly kneading into his flesh in a way that's subtly suspicious. After all, he must be doing this on purpose for Dabi to be able to register the sensation. It's thrillingly intimate...deliberate...intoxicating. The villain turns rigid, trying not to melt as Hawks' hands dance up and down his back, traveling significantly farther than the isolated scar line. 

"You're fuckin' tense," Hawks mutters under his breath as his hands find their way to Dabi's shoulders, thumbs pressing into the back of his neck. 

"Probably because my back is turned to a hero," Dabi grunts, letting the last word fall from his lips with a venomous twist. Hawks simply ignores him, a small smile playing at his lips when Dabi swallows a sigh as he forcibly rubs into the tense areas of muscle. Finally, he works his way back down to the scar line, and Dabi hears the familiar squelch of the tube. 

"You hadn't even put it on, yet?!" The villain scoffs, stealing a glance over his shoulder to see Hawks' shit-eating grin, but, when the hero catches him looking, his expression changes to ambivalence. 

"Quit complaining. You needed it. Don't you feel a little better?" Hawks replies before gently weaving his fingertips between the staples, and Dabi shudders at the faint cold sensation. The massage did manage to distract him a bit from the dull ache pulsing through his entire body. 

When Hawks removes his hands from Dabi's back, the villain takes in a deep breath as he turns to face the hero. It's only then that he realizes how close Hawks has gotten. Their faces are mere inches apart, and Dabi's heart skips a beat...for whatever reason. He doesn't know why he feels so flustered all of a sudden. Maybe it's the intimacy that he accidentally created? Maybe it's the fact that, for once, someone seems to care in a way that no one else ever has? A few seconds of silence slip by; the only sounds coming from Hawks' apartment are their tense breathing. In the dim lights of the apartment, Hawks practically glows; the lights reflect off of his feathers and highlight the gold flecks in his eyes. There's a glint in them that Dabi's never seen before. 

Time seems to stop...and...without a word...Hawks leans in...and kisses him. Dabi's eyes widen, and his breath catches in his throat; he freezes like a statue, his entire body tensing the moment that Hawks' impossibly soft lips sweetly press against his. He can only partially even feel the sensation, but it shakes him to the core. The hero's eyes are closed, and the villain takes note of how long his eyelashes are. He assumed the markings on the corners of his eyes were some sort of weird birthmark, but now he can see that it's just seamless eyeliner. His gut instinct is to push him away. To burn him to ashes. He should kill him for doing this. But...his heart twists in a way that makes blood well up in his fucked up tear ducts. Everything about this is wrong...but...why does it feel so right? Why does it feel relieving? Against every logical thought, Dabi's eyelids flutter shut, thin streaks of blood dripping down from them as he begins to kiss him back. Hawks smiles into the kiss, a low chuckle rumbling in his throat when he feels Dabi pushing closer, and he wraps his arms around the villain, making sure not to pull any of the fresh staples on his back. Dabi's sharply inhales and exhales through his nose as he gently lifts his hands up, using the little bit of strength he has to cup the side of the hero's face and wrap another arm around his waist. After what seems like an eternity, they both break from the kiss, cerulean eyes reflecting in gold. Dabi can't form words. His mind is swimming with a thousand thoughts of: 'You idiot! What are you doing?! That was...amazing... He's the enemy! You can't trust him! He's so pretty...' Until it finally lands on:

"Why the fuck would you do that?!" Dabi suddenly angrily blurts, his face heating up as a dull blush spreads across the healthy skin on his face. 

"Please. I don't care if you get me sick," Hawks smirks, rolling his eyes and waving his hand absentmindedly. 

"That's not why-I don't give a- fuck you!" Dabi stammers, getting progressively irritated as he tries to gather his hazy mind. He can't think clearly when he feels so shitty. 

"You're the one who leaned into it," The Pro shrugs, grinning smugly. Dabi scoffs, speechless. He can't stop staring at Hawks' lips. No one had ever touched him like that. Not in a way that felt like it meant something. But...what the fuck did it mean? Hawks' devilish smile fades when he notices the trails of blood streaming from Dabi's eyes, steadily dripping down the side of his face. 

"Dabi," Hawks mutters, his voice laced with worry as he points to the red streaks. Dabi blinks, immediate realization crashing down on him as he frantically thumbs the blood away, embarrassed that he let himself be so vulnerable and silently cursing himself for it. Another wave of nausea sweeps through his body, and he puts his face in his hands, trying to calm down. 

"Hey, I didn't mean to upset you," The hero murmurs apologetically, feathers drooping ever so slightly as he instinctively reaches an arm out to comfort him. Dabi flinches the moment Hawks' fingers brush against his shoulder, but, in a split second, he sinks into the gesture, letting himself get lost in the feeling of his touch. 

"I...I haven't felt this shitty in a long time," Dabi huffs, his voice muffled by his hands as he keeps his face hidden.

"I think you just need some rest," Hawks offers, giving his shoulder another tender squeeze, "You can crash here for the night if you want. I'm not sure if you should try to make it all the way back to wherever your colleagues are holed up."

Dabi sighs, mulling it over in his head. He knows that he's right. He'll probably just collapse again if he trudges back on his own...and he can't take Hawks back to the base yet. 

"You tell anyone about any of this, and I'll burn everything you love to the fucking ground," The villain grumbles, and the hero chuckles nervously. 

"Wouldn't expect anything less."

[pukeiscute]

Been thinking about a partner puking in bed, unable to help themself

A sick partner who knows their partner has emetophilia, so they warn their partner, ��‘m ‘bout to puke.”

“Okay, Hon’ hold it in for me, ‘kay?” Then the get in their position-kinky laying on the wooden floor (minimal cleanup), and sickie on all fours hovering above them panting.

A sickie groaning through their nausea, and caretaker rubs and prods at their exposed stomach, releasing low belches that sometimes end with a gag. Eventually they get to the tense knots in sickie’s tummy, causing thick slurries of stomach contents to eject from their sloppy mouth. Sickie continues to groan in relief, pain, and elation between retches at getting on with it to feel better. They make a mess of themself, their partner, and the couch, but neither seem to care much. Caretaker assures them that all that matters is getting sickie feeling better.

Let me know if you have any requests for sickfics-as explicit (even smutty) or as fluffy as your heart desires. I tend to write for MHA (absolute slut for Aizawa), Marvel (primarily Tony Stark, Bucky, and possible Steve), Original works, and Twilight. I have an AO3 account, pukeiscuter, where I will be posting all sorts of emeto content. Tips are always appreciated 💙

[o0star24night0o]

A WIP I made for my fanfic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30278247/chapters/74623503

[parsnips-and-meth]

Hi!

I thought I would share this again. This time of year is incredibly tough for people like me without a stable income. Bills have gone up, food is expensive and I need money to travel home for the holidays. If there are any commissions you’ve been wanting - whether they’re small, whether they’re large - I will write them.

There are a list of fandoms in the gig’s description that I’m familiar with, but I’m able to research and write for fandoms I’m unfamiliar with. I am also able to create original work with a set of OCs I use, or write poetry of any kind. My work could be the gift you give someone this holiday!

Help me and my ESA (she’s the sweetest little cat) keep warm this winter! I really appreciate all of your support so far. If you’re unable to commission me, then sharing this post to boost its exposure would also make a huge difference.

Happy holidays,

Parsnip 🥕

[sickiehugs]

I loooove thinking about the dynamics between the characters in MHA, this show is a goldmine for sickfics. 

Once they move into the dorms, everyone is interacting with each other all the time. Colds would spread easily with how close class 1a is 

Characters that aren’t familiar with needing to be taken care of clashing with characters that would be all over their classmates with no hesitation if they found out they were sick

Characters that are less than naturally caring having to take care of a classmate bc no one else is around for whatever reason

Characters that would try to fight through it and inevitably make themselves feel worse

There are a lot of pairings in the show, and a lot of them have great dynamics for sickfics.

Some of my personal favorites include but are not limited to: 

Midoriya and Ururaka (they’re both sweethearts, they would be so so so gentle and caring with each other)

Midoriya and Bakugo (they’re both so terrible at communicating that they end up fighting the whole time, but it’s clear they both care about each other and want the sickie to feel better as soon as possible)

Tamaki and Togata/Hado (there is no way Tamaki hasn’t gotten sick from using his quirk too much, there is simply no way. Good thing he has two friends that would absolutely take care of him and help him feel better, no matter how embarrassed he may get)

Monoma and Shinso (No matter the situation, Monoma is dramatic and Shinso is deadpanned. If Shinso wants Monoma to shut up, he can just use his quirk on him, and if Monoma wants Shinso to stop resisting being taken care of and stay under the damn blanket, he can use his quirk and copy Shinso’s. There a lot of potential with the brainwashing quirk.)

And then of course there’s the wonderful world of illness affecting quirks!

Todoroki — If he had a fever, could he cool himself down with his right side? Would his left side make it worse?

Bakugo — If he had a fever and was sweating a lot, would he accidentally make explosions and have to be careful what he touched?

Tamaki — Bless this guy’s soul, if he caught a stomach bug he would be SO screwed

I could 100% write more but this is already super long and I’m getting embarrassed lmao

I hope you feel better soon!! <3

Oh these are all so good!! No need to feel embarrassed, I enjoyed it! I especially love thinking about how bugs could spread in the dorms, oh and how flu season would be...

A personal hc I have about Todoroki is that if he gets a fever, one of his sides activates, 50/50 on which one. He'll either be insanely hot and sweaty, or freezing cold. And it's more intense depending on how high the fever is, and his other side wouldn't be able to help with it.

So if it's a low fever, he'd either be sweating buckets, face bright red, just miserable and no amount of AC or ice packs can cool him down... Or, wracked with chills, constant shivering, under a pile of blankets in a little cocoon...

I haven't thought about high fevers with his hot side, but with his cold side he'd also leave a trail of ice whevever he went, frosty breath, just sooo cold... poor guy

[sickficideas]

there's just something about a character with a fever who's trying rly rly hard to pay attention to their friend or s/o or whoever but their fever brain is making it So Hard. maybe character B doesn't realize character A is sick and they only notice something is wrong bc A isn't paying attention as well as they normally do :(((

[nightshiftshenanigans]

❤️��💚NEW FIC ALERT❤️🧡💚

I’m super excited to be able to finally post one of my first zine fics!!!🤩🎉 I really hope y’all enjoy!!!

[z44raith]

MIDORYA WHEN YOUR SICK

Characters included: Izuku midorya

Rating : sfw

Synopsis: you're sick and in bed trying to rest but, the izuku want to take care of you :)

Type: scenario

A/N: Bro I wrote this almost a year ago on my other account, and idfk why, i decided to re-write it. Go read the og one on @rika-kaiyo if you want to cringe. It has a lot of spelling mistakes and is pretty cringe lamo.

____________________________________

Izuku Midoriya

Yay! Wholesome boy!

You woke up from your bed. You felt greatly tired. You checked your temperature and, yep... You had a fever. You asked Mr Aizawa and he allowed you to stay in the dorms.

Your boyfriend Izuku was confused why you didn't come so he waited till school ended and knocked on your door.

"Hello?" He said.

His voice was adorable.. So perfect, you decided let him in.

"Mhm, come in Izuku."

Door opens

"Hey Y/N... How are you doing?" While taking off his shoes.

"Oh,I'm just a little bit sick, that's why I took off school..." you said quietly.

"Ah... How bad? " He said remorsefuly.

*Sniff* "A 101° fever... "

"Oh.. Sorry to hear that"

"It's fine Izuku no need to worry... "

"Uh.. I brought your homework do you want me to help you? " He asked, Wanting to help you ease your pain, by helping you.

"I'll do my homework later.. " You said in an annoyed tone, not at izuku, but at all the work you had to complete.

"Oh ok... Do you want me to do anything? "

"Yeah... Could you make me some soup?"

"Yeah, sure y/n.. I'll be right back! "

"Thank you, Izuku... "

"No problem Y/N! "

Whilst you waited on your bed, reviewing his notes, and seeing the homework. He came back, with your soup in one hand.

"Here's your soup dear! "

"Thank you Izuku... "

"No worries y/n. But the soups hot so watch out!"

"Ok.. " You said as you placed the soup down on your side-table, sitting upright, with the blanket still on you, pushing your boyfriend's bag and work upon the floor.

"Is there anything else?"

"Uhm.. Can you sit on the bed with me?"

"Oh..." You were dating for 6 months but Izuku still felt flustered whenever you kissed him or did anything to him which involved affection.

"Do you not want to? " You said in a fake sad tone, wanting his sympathy.

"No, no! I want to! " he sits down on the bed.

"Ok now close your eyes... " You said, with a hint of playfulness in your tone.

"Uh.. Okay" he closes his eyes.

You kissed him on the lips quickly, Before he could even realize.

"H-Hey! " Izuku said, Blushing intensely.

You chuckled, at his adorable reaction. "Yeah, Izuku?"

Looking away, still blushing he says "Y-you could've told me you were about to kiss me.."

"Would that make you less embarrassed? "

"S-shut up! " hiding his face in his palms.

You were dying of laughter whilst, still Coughing. You loved you're cute boyfriend so much <33

_________

💗🍥🍡🌼🌷🍄💌

[hoperays-song]

Hurt/Comfort (especially emotional hurt/comfort but also sickfics) is one of my absolute favorite tropes. Characters taking the time to take care of each other and to help each other no matter the impacts on their lives because the other is more important? Literal chills every single time. 

It shows how important they are to each other and how they’re willing to do whatever it takes to make sure they other us ok. To show the them that they matter.