ᴛꜰ2 ᴍᴇʀᴄꜱ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ꜱᴛᴏʀɪᴇꜱ!

ᴍᴇᴅɪᴄ, ᴇɴɢɪɴᴇᴇʀ, ꜱɴɪᴘᴇʀ x ꜱɪᴄᴋ! ᴛᴇᴇɴ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Req: 

Ahem. Since my last request was a fumble, could I ask for a more platonic x reader where the reader is in their mid teens? They are pretty good at fighting, and almost never complain under any circumstances, but one day they come down with an illness that was worse than any other sickness they had ever had before. They try to tough it out, but end up breaking down in an isolated corner because they can't take it anymore. Idk, after that I was just hoping for a Medic-centric comfort story.

Wc: 0.7k

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Your head throbbed and pounded as your clothes became more drenched with sweat by the minute. But you had to live up to their expectations, you had to continue making them proud. You heaved as you dragged one foot in front of the other, doing your best to drag your compound bow to the respawn room after cleaning it the night before, preparing for today's battle. You had woken up like this- pain filling every inch of your body and barely able to walk on your own without the aid of the walls surrounding you.

You had managed to make it just barely into the game room before immediately collapsing to the cold, hard floor. The last thing you heard was a few shouts and hurried footsteps, along with the sound of your bow clattering to the floor.

You woke up in the lab's bed, drenched even more. You felt somebody wiping a stray hair that was sticking to your forehead away, then it went to check your temperature. The action was cut short when they noticed your eyes flutter open, quickly beginning to ask you lots of questions. Your eyes darted and your brows furrowed as you tried to make sense of his words that seemed to mesh together. The lights being so bright and everything seeming so loud wasn't helping. Medic quickly took note and did everything in his power to ease any pain or annoyances. He dimmed the lights, and only allowed two mercs to stay in the waiting area. You felt a nice cold, wet cloth on your forehead, calming you immediately. He spoke with a much softer tone, asking you questions slowly. He was still a bit panicked- this had never happened to you before.

You had been with the mercs nearly a year now, replacing Scout as the youngest. Despite him being pissy at first, you were now closer than ever with a sibling-like dynamic. It was nice being the teen of the group, almost feeling like you had nine scary dads protecting you; but it also had its downsides, mostly stemming from the fact that you're still all cold-blooded killers. Which meant the expectation was that you could do great in battle, or so you assumed. You placed all these high bards for yourself, always wanting to make the mercs proud. Some were harder to please than others, such as Spy compared to Pyro who would often clap and grow excited at any little thing you managed. Soldier was the hardest on you out of them all, seeing that you had lots of potential at such a young age. There's a reason you're here. Medic and Engineer often had to remind him that you were still a teen.

You did your best to never complain, even when you felt like you were too exhausted to keep doing pushups or run around the base for the 100th time. You had placed the expectation that you had to keep up with the grown men on your shoulders, and you'd gotten used to it.

"Did something happen?"

You tried to speak, but your voice was caught in your throat. It burned. You lightly shook your head, and it felt like it was spinning.

Medic's brows knit with worry as he studied you, deciding to allow the two other mercs in for support in aiding you. Even just for moral support for yourself. With the sweetest Texan accent, one of them spoke;

"Awh, Honeybee, ya shoulda told us ya weren't feelin' well, sugar."

The other one nodded and he adjusted his sunnies, continuing to wipe a clothe over your prized bow. He knew you did your best to take great care of it, so he opted to do it himself.

"Mhmm. Worried 'bout ya, Roo."

Engie listened to Medic's every word- from getting you water to removing or adding a blanket, while Sniper- despite not being a big fan of physical contact, allowed himself to hold your hand in his with a very loose grip, running his thumb soothingly over the back of your hand. He rarely whispered small nothings to you, reassuring you.

"You're gonna be okay, bunny. You'll be okay. We're here for ya."

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Mar. 6. 24