#achooo

Hello everyone, I am sick- and I love Wrecker, so here’s this— 𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡

Notes: sick reader, no pronoun use for reader, Wrecker calls reader ‘sweetheart’ ‘lovey’ and ‘cute’— Wrecker teases reader lovingly, I wrote this with Wrecker and reader living in like a ‘fix it’ life on Pabu situation, and when I do that, I picture dad bod Wrecker, so dad bod Wrecker is briefly mentioned (described?) here… Also I have never written for Wrecker before so sorry if this is poop from a butt, but I basically just wrote it for me so—

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵 𓏵 𓏵𐙚

From beneath your blanket cocoon, you hear the door to your shared bedroom open, followed by footsteps padding over to your bedside.

“Hey, ya with me?” Wrecker murmurs, softening his normally booming voice as he checks to see if you’re awake.

You groan in response, a sound that makes him chuckle quietly— he doesn’t mean to be insensitive to your plight, really!! But there’s just something about your sick, sniffly self that’s kinda adorable to him.

He gently nudges your shoulder. “I warmed up some broth for ya; y’gotta keep yer strength up if y’wanna fight this thing off— can’t do that with nothin’ in yer stomach.”

He makes a good point, but you don’t really feel like moving at the moment— so you don’t, keeping your back to him and curling the comforter tighter around yourself in protest.

“Oi! Don’t be a brat—” he chides, but there’s no bite in his tone, only amusement.

A gruff "C'mon" is all the warning you get before he wraps his thick arms around you, hauling you up into a seated position and freeing you from the tangle of bedding you’d ensconced yourself in.

You yelp in surprise, well— as much of a yelp as you can manage with how hoarse you are. The glare you try to give him is rendered far less withering than it might’ve been ordinarily, if not for your current, rather pitiful state.

His expression softens when he can finally see your face; it’s obvious you’re drained— your usually bright eyes are dull and rimmed with dark circles, your lips are chapped, and the skin on your nose slightly raw from repeated blowing.

“Mornin’ snot rag.” He teases, giving you a lopsided smile. “How ya feelin?” As if he didn’t already know.

“I’ve been better…” You reply, your weak, nasally voice making something tighten in his chest.

“Aw, poor thing." He coos, sitting down next to you and raising the steaming bowl of broth he’d brought up to your lips. “Here, if this gets yer appetite goin’- I’ll getcha somethin’ a little heartier.”

You comply, taking a sip— warmth soothing your sore throat just a bit as you swallow. You're sure Wrecker took the time to season it a bit, not that you could appreciate that, though, considering you’ve almost completely lost your sense of taste for the time being. "Thanks, Wreck…”

“A’course, I’m not about to let ya just suffer in here all by yerself, sweetheart.” He replies, handing the bowl over to you so you can finish the contents at your leisure.

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵 𓏵 𓏵𐙚

After ensuring you had something to eat and drink, Wrecker gets into bed with you, scooching himself in behind you so that you lay between his legs, with your head resting against his chest. Once you’re situated, he lays a cold compress against your forehead. “There ya go, lovey," he says, brushing a knuckle against your cheek. “Just rest, I gotcha.”

You let your eyes drift shut, the warmth of his body— which is now even more comfortable to use as a living pillow due to the healthy layer of fat he’s been able to accumulate, thanks in no small part to the fact that actually being able to eat enough is a luxury he’s afforded in your new life together, combined with his ever-comforting presence (plus the fact that you’re totally wiped from this stupid cold) means falling asleep is an inevitability for you.

You’re about to mumble another thank you to your partner before drifting off, but before you can get the words out, you’re interrupted by a sudden and powerful sneeze that makes your nose start running.

"Ewww," Wrecker exclaims playfully as he grabs a tissue from the bedside table and hands it to you. “Yer a mess…”

You can’t hear his lighthearted jab over the sound of yourself blowing your nose, but once you dispose of the soiled tissue and lay back down on him, he presses a soft kiss to the crown of your head. “Still precious though, even when yer drownin’ in yer own snot.”

𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡ 𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡ 𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡ 𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡ 𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡ 𐙚⋆°｡

Anyway bye!!!!

-🕺

i loooove nurse sugu. so much so tht my dearest friend (@/kx1T0_ on twt btw!!) sent me some art of tht baddie just the other day 😋