#not sickfic

[soft-for-yoongi]

I'm in love with these 🥺🥺🥺 Jinkook was thriving in the 4 minutes that was their Chuseok live in 2016 🤩 also bonus J-hope holding his stomach, saying he wants to eat.

Jungkook looks so young I cantttt. Who wouldn't want to lean up against those world wide shoulders??

The third pic, Jin looking down at Jungkook when he was speaking, 🤧🤧🥹 IN LOVE. Sickfic scenarios are running through my head rn.

[bingothedingo666]

When your snusband is feeling under the weather so you go full spa-mode

I love the HC that Crowley turns snakey when he's ill or in pain. Luckily he has an angel to take care of him ☺️.

Click to full size for better image quality, Tumblr deep fried the thumbnails.

[amirasainz]

Little Alonso when she comes to the paddock and everything’s normal but Lando realized suddenly she’s warm and feels sick, it’ll be cute all the drivers making sure she’s okayy

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 💕

Sick days

The paddock buzzed with excitement as fans crowded the track, drivers rushed through their schedules, and the teams hustled to prepare for the Grand Prix. Among all this action, a small whirlwind of energy darted from garage to garage, spreading smiles wherever she went. Four-year-old Yn was having the time of her life, her bright giggles filling the air as she explored the paddock, holding her plushie tightly in one hand.

“Yn! Careful!” Fernando called after her as she dashed away from him yet again. He shook his head, unable to suppress a fond smile as she ducked behind a wall of mechanics.

“Is that her fifth lap around the paddock?” Carlos teased, stepping up beside Fernando.

“Fifth? More like tenth,” Fernando replied. “She has more energy than a full grid on softs.”

Nearby, Lando was leaning against his team’s garage wall, sipping water. He looked up just in time to see Yn sprint toward him, her little face lighting up when she spotted him.

“Lando!” she cried, throwing her arms wide.

“Whoa, hey there, Yn!” he said, crouching just in time to catch her. She collided into him with all her tiny strength, wrapping her arms around his neck.

But as soon as he hugged her, Lando felt something off. She was warmer than usual—too warm. Pulling back slightly, he looked at her pale, flushed face. Her breathing was still heavy, and her tiny frame trembled against him.

“Yn, are you okay?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern. He pressed his hand against her forehead, his eyes widening at how hot her skin felt.

“You’re burning up,” he murmured. “Carlos! Come here for a second.”

Carlos, who had been chatting with some engineers nearby, jogged over. “What’s up?”

“I think she’s sick,” Lando said, adjusting Yn in his arms so she could rest her head on his shoulder. “Feel her forehead.”

Carlos leaned down, brushing Yn’s damp hair aside. His expression turned serious the moment his palm touched her skin.

“She’s definitely got a fever,” he confirmed. “Fernando’s going to lose it if he sees her like this.”

“She said she wanted to run,” Yn murmured softly, her voice weaker now. “I wanted to see everything.”

Lando’s heart clenched at how exhausted she sounded. “Alright, little troublemaker,” he said gently, “no more running for now. Let’s get you comfy.”

Together, Lando and Carlos carried her into Lando’s driver room, where the air-conditioning was a welcome relief. Lando grabbed a blanket from the corner and wrapped it around Yn, tucking her plushie securely in her arms. She leaned against him without protest, which only made him more worried.

Oscar peeked his head in. “What’s going on? Why does Yn look like she just did a triathlon?”

“She’s sick,” Carlos explained. “Fever, pale, tired. Typical ‘I’ve been running around all day’ symptoms.”

Oscar frowned. “Does she need a doctor?”

“Not yet,” Lando said, rocking Yn gently as her breathing began to even out. “But we need to keep her hydrated and resting. Can you grab some juice or water?”

“On it,” Carlos said, heading out.

“I’ll stay with her,” Oscar volunteered. He rummaged through his bag, pulling out a children’s book he always carried for his little niece. “Yn, do you want me to read to you?”

Yn’s eyes fluttered open, and she gave him a small nod. “Story?”

Oscar smiled, flipping to the first page. “It’s about a bear who goes on an adventure. Sound good?”

She nodded again, nestling closer to Lando, who tightened the blanket around her.

Carlos returned with a juice box and handed it to Lando. “Try to get her to drink a little.”

“Yn, can you take a sip for me?” Lando asked, holding the straw to her lips. She drank a few small sips before leaning back into him, her plushie hugged tightly to her chest.

Fernando finally walked in after finishing his media obligations, his sharp eyes immediately landing on Yn. His face softened with worry. “What happened?”

“She got sick from running around,” Lando explained. “We’ve got her resting now.”

Fernando crouched in front of them, brushing Yn’s hair gently. “Mi pequeña, why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?”

“I wanted to play,” she whispered.

Fernando sighed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You’ve had your fun, but now it’s time to rest, okay?”

Yn nodded sleepily, her eyelids drooping. Fernando looked at the three drivers and gave them a small smile of gratitude. “Thank you for taking care of her.”

“She’s part of the paddock family,” Lando said, his voice soft as he adjusted the blanket around Yn again. “We’ve got her.”

As Oscar continued reading, Carlos passed Lando a pillow to support Yn’s head, and Fernando pulled up a chair to sit beside them. Yn might have overdone it today, but with her paddock uncles doting on her, she was already on the mend.

[sickfictropes]

characters who can't go to the hospital because they're on the run from the law my beloved

[whumpdreaming]

Please consider giving your whumpees the hottest, most mind-melting, intestine-boiling, miserable fever, leaving her with barely functional lungs/glazed and distant eyes/an inability to keep anything down/constant dehydration/sweat soaking everything, and with her team/caretakers completely stressed out and unsure what to do. Bonus points if it's from an infected wound. Okay thanks for considering <3

[choccy-milky]

sometimes you gotta lure your overly-studious ravenclaw gf into spending time with you 🥰 📚 ( from 'Every Teardrop is a Waterfall' by Kat_12739 on ao3, GO READ IT!!! the first story is about seb falling sick and still pushing himself/not admitting he's sick until he ends up in the hospital, the second story is about the birth of seb and clora's daughter and seb's reaction to clora almost dying in childbirth, and the third is about dealing with a fussy newborn lewis😭🥹THEY'RE SO GOOD AND SWEET AND SOMEWHAT SAD (not to mention beautifully written) so go check it out!!💖💖 )

[moonstruckme]

Heyyy! So I'm obsessed with your writing! Your EMT series might be my favourite thing I've ever read.

I was wondering if I could request an EMT Marauders x reader story where she gets really sick but thinks it's nothing and downplays it to them, only for it to end up being Pneumonia or something. And maybe they feel guilty for not realising it sooner?

I know you've probably already written something similar to this so no worries if you don't feel like writing it but I'd love to see your take it if you decide. Hurt/comfort is my favourite trope in the world. I just can't get enough of it!

I hope you're doing well!

Thanks gorgeous, hope you're doing well too <3

cw: pneumonia

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You make sure there’s plenty of honey in your tea when the boys get home. 

“Hi,” you greet them, pleased when your voice comes out semi-normal. 

“Hey, gorgeous.” Sirius flops onto the sofa, nearly on top of your curled-up legs. “How was your day?” 

You try to keep your answer brief, your cough plied into submission with honey and warm tea but not for long. “Good. Got some things done.” 

You don’t mention that after every one of those things you’d had to have a thirty-minute lie down, or that many of them involved disinfecting surfaces you’d accidentally coughed near. 

“Being sick isn’t an opportunity to get things done.” Remus sinks into his chair, leveling you with a reprimanding look. “You’re supposed to be resting.” 

You shrug. “The only reason I haven’t been at work is because—” A couple of coughs fight their way out of you. James’ expression pinches as he sits on the arm of Remus’ chair, but thankfully the fit passes quickly. You take another sip of your tea. “Because I don’t want to pass it to anyone. I think I have to go back tomorrow, though.” 

Sirius makes a soft tsking sound. The boys are all still in uniform, his tattoos peeking out from the short sleeves as he traces looping circles on the side of your knee. “But you’re not better yet.” 

“Yeah, but I’m running out of sick days.” 

James frowns. “How long has it been?” 

You bring your tea to your lips, avoiding meeting anyone’s eyes. “I’ve been out for a week.” 

“But you were sick for a while before that,” he says. “What is that, ten days? Eleven?”

You shrug. 

Sirius is looking up at you with a puckered brow. “Do you feel like you’re getting better?” 

“I think so,” you say optimistically. It’s quickly undermined, however, when you’re caught up in another coughing fit. You have to set your tea down to keep from spilling it, holding a tissue over your mouth. 

James’ eyes widen, and Sirius sits up to rub your back. 

“That doesn’t sound very good,” James says. 

“No,” Sirius agrees. He reaches to feel your face, but you brush him away. 

“Don’t-—ack��don’t get too close. I don’t want to get you sick.” 

“I’m not gonna get sick, you baby.” He pushes past your hands. “Let me do my job.” 

“You just got off work.” 

“Yeah, well,” his voice softens, taking on a sympathetic hum as he lays his palm flat to your hairline, “maybe I maybe I was talking about my boyfriend job.” A pause. “I think your fever’s gotten worse, my love.” 

You whine. “Really?” 

“‘Fraid so. Have you noticed your symptoms getting worse at all?”

“I don’t” —you cough and reach for your tea again— “think so.” 

“Dove,” Remus says warningly. 

“It’s hard to tell,” you admit. “It’s moved around.” 

“Like where, honey?” James asks. 

“Like, in my…” You feel your throat contract, another fit brewing. You touch a hand to your sternum to avoid speaking. 

“In your chest?” Remus infers. 

You nod. 

He hums and moves to sit on the coffee table, his knees touching yours. You try to warn him away, but Remus shushes you gently. “Let me look at you.” 

He brings one hand to your face, feeling the way Sirius had, and touches the other to the pulse point on your neck. His touch is gentle and cool against your warm skin. You don’t know what exactly he’s looking for, but you find yourself fighting the urge to fall asleep in the basin of his palm when it slips down to hold your cheek. 

“You don’t need to talk,” says James, “but just nod yes or no, okay? Have you noticed yourself feeling more tired lately?” 

You nod tentatively. 

“Yeah? Less appetite?” 

You frown. “I don’t think—” You’re cut off by your own hacking. 

“One week off work, and she completely forgets how to follow instructions,” Sirius teases, rubbing your leg. 

“Terrible patient,” James agrees. 

“Alright,” Remus says once your fit ebbs. “I don’t have a stethoscope, but can you turn sideways for me?” 

You do, confused. Remus puts his ear to your back. You must make an odd face, because Sirius grins at you, reaching over to pinch your chin affectionately. 

“Take a deep breath,” Remus instructs. 

You try, but it doesn’t get far. Your lungs expand maybe halfway before you’re coughing again, horrible, wracking coughs punctuated by stabbing pains in your chest. Remus sits up after a few moments, rubbing your back. 

“Sorry,” you manage. 

“Why are you sorry?” Sirius pulls you into him, cradling your head to his chest. “That sounded like it hurt, huh?” 

“Yeah,” Remus answers for you, brows bent with sympathy. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. At least now we can get you some medicine, though.” 

You cough weakly. “You can?” 

“Sounds like pneumonia?” James asks Remus. Your boyfriend nods. 

Sirius coos, petting your head. “I’m sorry, baby. I was thinking it was just a cold.” 

“It’s not your fault,” you croak. “I was, too.” 

“Feels like we ought to have known the difference, though,” James admits. When Sirius gets up, he’s quick to take his spot, tucking you underneath an arm. 

“Where are you going?” you ask Sirius. 

He’s putting his shoes back on. “To get someone to write you a prescription. The sooner we get you on antibiotics, the better. It’ll give you something to show your boss, too.” 

“I don’t need to come with you?” you ask hopefully. 

He winks, grabbing his keys. “Perks of knowing people at the hospital.” 

“Perks of flirting with the doctors, he means,” Remus mutters after he’s gone. 

“Hey,” James laughs, giving his boyfriend’s knee a playful squeeze, “it works out for us, doesn’t it?” 

“Sometimes,” Remus allows. He fixes his gaze on you. “Anything we can do to help you feel better, sweetheart? Do you want to try a hot bath? Steam would be good for you.” 

You look down into your now cool mug. “Could I have some more tea?” 

He takes it from you with a kiss to your head. “What a silly question.”

[retiredteabag]

Caretaking and Guilt

Pairing: Toji x Reader

Synopsis: quintessential sickfic- you just have a hard time accepting help from others.

Tags: Fluff, comfort, mild angst

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

These past few days you hadn't been feeling so well.

Friends and coworkers had been getting sick left and right. You had thought you were lucky enough to pass it by but after a couple restless nights and a depleted appetite, it was fair to say you had caught the bug.

Yesterday you had tried to prevent the worst of it, taking medicine, drinking orange juice, staying active; none of it seemed to hold back the storm that was this illness.

The second you had opened your eyes this morning you could tell it had all been pointless.

Your head was throbbing, you were unbearably congested, your chest felt heavy, and chills racked your body. There was a cold sweat sticking to your neck and it hurt to swallow. Above all else, you were exhausted. You kept drifting in and out of dreamless sleep, waking to a deeper state of drowsiness.

At one point you had checked your phone only to realize it was mid-afternoon and you had been in bed all day. Toji had been out on a job and would likely be back before dinner.

It's not as if you were embarrassed or ashamed to be sick, but being the fervently independent individual you were, you hated the idea of needing to be cared for.

So, despite your shaky legs and turning stomach, you stumbled your way into the bathroom to try and wash off the sweltering perspiration and muck from yourself.

Something had to be made for dinner after all.

You’d probably feel better after washing up, right?

After what can only be described as a brave attempt at standing under the shower head's assault, you found yourself covering up the drain in your shower bath and allowing the downpour slowly fill up the tub surrounding your collapsed form.

You sat for an inordinate amount of time, every so often opening your eyes to see the waters rising closer to your chest. The droplets knocked against your ears and eased you into a cloudy headspace.

The water was hot. Stiflingly so. What you assumed would aid in clearing out your clogged sinus cavity did very little on that front but rather aided in the onslaught of an enervating fever.

Too weak to consider the sweating and dehydration your hot "rain bath" had caused, you fell into a state of delirium as you shook and dressed yourself in some sweatpants and crew neck.

The man who so frequently was at the forefront of your thoughts was no longer haunting your thoughts. You had originally gotten out of bed to prepare a meal but in your current state, that would not be happening.

It was laughable even to yourself as you made your way into the living room, pitching off to this side and then and staring off at the kitchen and front door for what would appear to an onlooker to be an unnervingly duration.

Eventually, you had to blink and come back to yourself, lost at how you had even gotten into the living room. And for being in such a position to seek comfort, you were overcome with the sudden need to lay on the couch.

Just for a couple minutes to "rest your eyes" as Toji often called it. And "rest your eyes" you did as the room started to spin and your hid your head into the cushions.

--

That was how Toji found you when he arrived home.

The two of you didn't text too often so the fact that you hadn't messaged all day hadn't set of any alarm bells for him. When he came through the front door, finding the place untouched since he left, well, that certainly did.

The room was dim, there wasn't any noise coming from the other rooms of the place, your presence was something he felt he needed to seek, not follow.

It was odd, seeing you there, conked on the couch, smooshed into the bolstering. And even more odd was the feeling it filled him with.

There was an overwhelming sense that something is wrong... Toji had never seen you like this. He tried to recall any hints that could have alluded to you clearly feeling unwell but the two of you had both been so busy. In and out of work, how long had you felt this way?

He knew how you were, never sharing when you hadn't gotten enough sleep or when a light was too bring and causing your headache to throb. Of course you wouldn't have said anything.

He should have noticed it. If Toji is good at anything, it's noticing. Especially when it comes to you. So whatever was going on, it must have progressed rapidly.

Toji sat up against you on the couch, when you didn't move or make any show of recondition, he pursed his lips and told himself to relax. His palm made its way around your head between the couch in order to feel your forehead and it was then that he started to panic.

You were hot. Too hot.

He had never been sure of what to do in these types of situations. His immune system was just too good, he rarely had issues like this and he had never seen you in such a pathetic state.

You were going to play it off when he woke you, he knew you would, so, how then, is he supposed to know for sure how serious it was?

He leaned his weight against your back now, looking down as your sunken form. He didn't say anything until you had whined and shifted to squint up at him.

"Hey." It came out grumbly.

"Mmm?" Everything felt airy, your ability to move your body, your recondition of where you lay, the man before you. Was any of this even real? Gosh, you felt awful.

"How you feelin'?"

Toji was a big, tough, guy. He was notorious for his unfeeling and cold nature. Rarely did he take the initiative to coddle or pamper you. And even rarer still were the times you would allow it.

In this moment though, every fiber of his “big, tough, guy" being was blaring for him to treat you gently.

He ran his hand down your back, the gooseflesh on your neck sent a chill across his and he began to seriously worry that you must be sick.

"mmm" Was your only response.

You firmly placed your face back between the couch and its cushions, truly believing you had just given a proper reply to Toji.

Narrowing his brows even further, Toji leans in, gently petting your back, lifting your hair from your neck. He places the back of his hand to your flesh there.

He couldn't recall a time where you had ever been more heated than he.

"Hey, I need you to look at me." He whispers, trying to draw your attention again.

"...ughhh...'oji" You try to shift from him but in no state, certainly not the one you presently found yourself in, were you a match for his strength.

"hey, hey, hey..." He doesn't even realize the tone he has taken on, as if he is approaching a wounded animal. He really just doesn't know what to do.

"...Eghhhh... it'ssso cold."

It is this slurred declaration that finalizes it for him. Never before, even when inebriated, have you taken on this tonality.

Toji's thigh jitters on the couch but he hides his internal alarm well otherwise. He is usually so quick to manhandle you over his shoulder, tossing you this way and that. But not now.

He takes you tenderly, and when you shuffle your face into his arm, he swallows the feeling that coats his throat.

"You been feelin' bad all day?"

He makes his way to the bedroom, when you nod into his chest his posture straightens.

Of course.

Once you're feeling better he's going to need to have a talk with you about sharing how you feel. At this moment, however, you are a limp noodle, falling away from his body as he plops you onto the bed.

He tucks the blanket around your body and sits on the edge of the bed.

"You eat yet?"

If you think that not responding will get him off your back, you are sorely mistaken. He would get an answer out of you. Nudging your side, pressing your body further into the mattress.

"Hey. Have you eaten?" He asks, slower this time.

You open your eyes, feeling a bit more cognizant. From the bed, you heave a breath and blink up at the man. "M' a bit nauseous."

"So, no."

"Yeah…”

He sighs, saving his lecture for when he isn't pounding with anxiety at your expression. The bed starts to tilt as Toji shifts his weight, moving to get up.

He was very likely going to prepare something light for your stomach, but in a moment of weakness, (wholly brought on by the cloudy brain and certainly not your realization of how soft your man was being) you reach out for him.

"Don't go."

A shiver causes his shoulders to tremble. A week ago he would have said no, shoving you off him only to fulfill your request. But in this moment he doesn't even have it in himself to jokingly deny you.

Turning back, he tickles a hand along your face. Pressing slightly at your temples. The massage eases everything for a moment, you wish you could stay like this for the however long your ailment lasts.

You roll over slightly, turning your face away from him and into the pillows. His fingers dance from your temples to the side of your eye, to the bridge of your nose. He presses slightly, running his fingertip up the length of it, to the space between your eyes, then back again.

He repeats the motion a few times, watching your breathing even out. He watches chills roll over you as his hand finds the back of your neck, moving to scratch gently there.

It does not take long for you to fall back into a restless sleep. As he watched you snore under the lump of blankets, he hoped this rest would do you well.

Toji isn't the best cook out there, but he's not as useless in the kitchen as he might seem. He would swap between preparing soup to peeking into the bedroom every so often. Cutting up some potato, shredding some chicken, chopping some carrots. Only to get nervous and stand in the doorway to watch the heep of germs on his bed.

Typically he would feel a sense of accomplishment for his healthy meal and the speed at which he prepared it.

Not now. His thoughts were filled with your weak voice back on the couch, your gaze when you asked him to stay with you.

He had never seen you like that. It had thrown him.

Toji almost didn't want to wake you but it only took remembering that you hadn't eaten all day for him to eventually nudge you awake.

You groaned and complained but once you were conscious, it seemed that you were more aware.

"W-wait, what?…Toji, you made this?"

"Yeah, so you better eat it all."

He scooched you over into the middle of the bed before sitting up beside you. You waved off his attempt to feed you, insisting on holding the bowl in your lap.

So Toji just watched, looking down at you spooning soup into your mouth. Humming every so often.

"It's good, Toji."

"Oh, yeah?" You aren't looking at him but you can hear his grin, "Lucky you, there's plenty of extra."

You smile. But it doesn't reach your eyes.

You know Toji did this because he wanted to, but sitting here, being useless all day, you felt so ashamed.

"...Lucky me....thank you...Toji."

"No worries." His fingertips found the back of your neck once more and started thrumming a pattern while you stared off, still eating.

"I'm sorry."

You couldn't not say it. It just came out.

"What? Why?"

The spoon clinks against the bowl and you cover your eyes with a hand. "Just...all of this, I'm sorry it happened, and that you had to come home and do all this."

"Alright-“ He leans over now, trying to bend and catch your eye but you turn away. He grabs the bowl in one hand and sets it on the bedside table beside him. "I don't want to hear you say that again."

You shake your head to disagree but he leans back then, gripping your shoulders and laying you atop his shoulder.

"I wish you would let me take care of you."

You stay on him, feeling his chest rise and pound with life and love. But you still try to avoid the eye contact he was trying to make happen.

"You already have-"

"Well I wish you would let me without whatever all this guilt is. I don't want you feelin' bad for getting sick. And then apologizing for me watching out for you."

There was a steady pause. The two of you lay, listening to the silence, awaiting your reply.

"Thank you." Is all you said.

Because it's what you felt. And you knew he wouldn’t accept anything else.

"Sure, baby." He leans down and kisses the top of your head.

And as badly as you would like to stay present and ask about his day like you normally would. It is becoming a real challenge to stay awake. Especially with his hand tracing patterns over your arm.

And for the first time in three days. You have some restful sleep.

--

The next day you wake feeling much better, rejuvenated even. But Toji is still fussing over you like he's your grandma. Tapping his foot and waiting for you to finish eating before allowing you to do anything else.

"I slaved over that, you better not leave a drop."

You roll your eyes, grateful the teasing dynamic has come back to you both. Even so, there is an underlying care that the two of you share, you smile before getting up, he tries to take your bowl but you insist on washing it yourself.

Toji’s head is on your shoulder and his breath whispers on your neck, you rinse the suds from your dish. For once, it feels nice and warm to be cared for without pretense.

You set your bowl on a towel, quickly shifting to tiptoes and leaving a smooch on Toji's cheek.

He makes a funny noise in the back of his throat then. Whiling around to squish your cheeks in a firm grip.

"Ya better not go getting me sick."

You stare at one another, and although he had just finished pushing your from him, he looks at your face in his hand. And without a moments hesitation longer, he drags you in for a proper kiss.

To him, felt good to love you, and to you, it felt good to be loved

[feveruary]

Here it is guys! The 2025 Feveruary prompts! We wanted them to be more generally comfort focused so then they be able to be interpreted in different ways to allow you guys to be as creative as you’d like!

We’re so excited to share these with you and we can’t wait to see what you write! As always feel free to ask any questions or share your excitement about this event! :D

We'll post more about how to submit your work and the AO3 collection closer to the time! For now though, we wish you goodluck and happy writing!

Text Version Below:

“How did you end up like this?” 

Burning Up then Freezing Cold 

Caught in the Rain 

Herbal Remedy 

“Could you just hold me?” 

Spoon-Feeding 

“I’m still not used to being taken care of.” 

“Couldn’t you keep your cold to yourself.” 

Face Masks 

“You’re safe, it was just a dream.” 

“You’re burning up!” 

Role Reversal – Medic to Sickie 

“I wouldn’t even trust you to boil tea in your condition!” 

Falling asleep in the wrong place 

Guiding sickie back to bed 

“Is it me or is it really warm in here?” 

“I know you want to help but you’re only making things worse.” 

Delirious 

“I know ice cream is good for sore throats but that’s way too much!” 

Lost Voice/Strep Throat 

From better to worse 

“Our date can wait! You’re far more important.” 

“You need a tissue?” 

“Don’t you think you should stay home today?” 

Standing Vigil 

“You sure I’m sick? Because I feel fine.” 

Vacation Disaster 

“Well, it sounds to me like you need a little bit of TLC.” 

Alternates:

Forced to work

Cool wash cloth

"I don't get sick!"

Sneezing Fit

[spinzolliii]

There’s something about a whumpee just sitting down. Not fainting, necessarily. Maybe they’re just about to faint, and they quietly just kneel on the ground at a time and place that doesn’t make sense. They don’t even have the capacity or willingness to articulate why they need to abruptly stop and sit. Maybe they’re catatonic while the others look at them.

Maybe a caretaker can see the dull, vacant look in their eyes and immediately senses that something is seriously wrong. Maybe the fainting comes just a few moments later.

[cravesunconditionallove]

Military whump prompts

(because Reddit is down and I’m chronically online)

Hearing the whumpee’s screams over the radio as they’re captured, the rest of the team frozen in horror.

• Patch job in the middle of the battlefield, someone pressing down on a wound with their bare hands, whispering, “Stay with me, okay? Just stay.”

• Post-mission debrief, but the whumpee is barely holding it together, swaying on their feet as the adrenaline wears off.

• The whumpee refusing pain meds because they need to “stay sharp,” only to pass out mid-conversation.

• “I don’t leave people behind,” they growl, limping and bleeding but refusing to abandon the unconscious teammate over their shoulder.

• Waking up in a field hospital, disoriented and panicked, pulling out the IV before being restrained by a firm but gentle voice.

• “We’re not going to make it.” “Yes, we are.” Cue one of them doing something reckless to ensure the other gets out alive.

• Cold, soaked to the bone, huddled in a ruined building during a downpour, one of them feverish while the other desperately tries to keep them awake.

• Hiding an injury to avoid being benched, only for it to get worse at the worst possible moment.

• “You don’t understand—I can’t go back. I can’t be discharged.”

• A high-ranking officer demanding a mission debrief while the whumpee is barely conscious, words slurring, bleeding through their uniform.

• A medic struggling to save the whumpee in the back of a jolting vehicle, yelling for the driver to go faster.

• Post-rescue, sitting by the whumpee’s bedside, counting every beep of the heart monitor like a prayer.

[skyrigel]

Simon had him and you all convinced that it was just sex and nothing more.

“No attachment.” He always said, everytime — sometimes so hurried and forgotten that it's just mumbled against your mouth before he's shoving his tongue down your throat.

Sometimes with so much urgency that it's lost between your moans, no attachment, babe, no attachment. And you believed him because it was really just sex, wasn't it ? There were no pretty dates and no fancy dinner at ritz, maybe those poorly wrapped ones he pretended he had not ordered and takeouts he brought along...but oh please, no attachments!

But maybe sometimes about those walks in the city where he would not so subtly grasp your hand, and you would catch him stealing glances at you while a teenager fiddled with his guitar, rhyming she came, my world lit with narcotic, I am addict.

No attachment but Simon's standing outside your workspace when it's raining —“I thought you might need it.” holding up the umbrella but those two words were there again when you were knee deep in the passanger seat and he was eating you out... because it was casual, right ? No attachment.

And it really didn't burn and ached until you got sick, real sick — puking your guts out and coughing until your ribs gave up, surely he wasn't the best role model of no attachment when he was panting to death as he picked your unconscious frame from the floor, you still remember the faint whisper of his ‘please don't leave me, please, please don't —’ over and over.

And if he wanted for no attachment then he should be gone. Gone and not come back because it was just sex...

Simon shouldn't be mopping the floor, and stirring your soup and touching your forehead every five minutes.

No attachment then why he's loading your grocery and taking out trash and doing your laundry, why he's wiping your tears and telling you it's going to be alright.

Why he's not leaving like he always did because there were no attachment right, but he's right here, tucking you in bed and washing your hair and reading you book.

“Is it some eccentric joke ? Why this Zaid is always growling ?—also when you get alright... we're gonna try it out, lovie.”

You blushed, but it wasn't just what he was suggesting but that word, it felt good.

“S-say it again.” You whispered, shifting your head in pillow. Simon turned back a page he was reading from, your scrunchie on his wrist.

“Zaid growled—” You screwed your face,“—oh, we'll try it—”

“last word. Your last word.”

“Oh.” He said, “Lovie...you don't like it ?”

You shaked your head, sniffing very unsexy-ly

“Call me that...I love it.” Simon pushed up the book up his face, his neck was pulsing with his many veins and you knew the blush that would be blooming on his hard face. Cute.

“Again.” You tilted your head, to get a look at his flushed out face.

“Okay Lovie...sleep now.” He grumbled, flicking your bedside lamp off and bookmarking the book with one of your scrunchie he removed from his wrist.

“Huh...Good night baby.” You said, waiting to be corrected, waiting for those two words to come and upside down it all.

But they never came, like they never even existed, never had a meaning to them at all.

No attachment, lost forever in darkness.

“G'night lovie.” He said so sweetly, and when you closed your eyes this time, you only saw daylight.

Grim Reaper! Simon

Masterlist

[therenaissancedungeonmaster]

More disabled Siffrin doodles! These feature:

Odile, Bonnie, Isabeau, and Mirabelle yelling at Siffrin to go lay back down as Siffrin struggles to stand.

Siffrin asking Isabeau if he would love them if they were a worm, while having an incredibly bad pain day. Isabeau is holding Siffrin closely while he assures him that yes, he would love them as a worm.

Bonnie hugging Siffrin, lifting him off his feet slightly, saying that they will carry Siffrin even if Siffrin's legs stop working. A very "that's the spirit" moment.

This is the original post if anyone is interested.

[amazinglyashy]

Hello, can you do LADS men's reaction to MC/reader working too hard, to the point that she looks tired and drained? She also easily gets sick because of stress. And yes, it's based on me; right now, I'm so tired because of work, and I have dance practice almost every day for our departmental performance while I'm sick with the flu. Thank you 💜

Sorry for the delay, but I wanted to do this one justice as best as I could, because oh man did I feel this personally! Not the same at all, but I get heavy duty chronic pain, and I overwork myself often by choice or not, all the time. Feel better anon <3 I hope you enjoy, and make sure to get some Pedialyte or sports drinks, and rest whenever you can. Your health is extremely important!

Love and Deepspace Li's reactions to you being overworked and sick

Zayne -

He's a doctor, you can't even get into the realm of hoping to hide it from him for long, and you'll want to hide it from him if you're actually wanting to be doing whatever it is that's causing you to be overworked to the point of illness.

He will take a single look at you the first time he sees you once you've reached this point- routine examination, stopping by work to see you or vice versa, running something by your place he borrowed, even just you making the mistake of taking an offered ride home from him due to how tired you are. It was a lapse in judgement on your part in trying to keep this from him, but your beyond exhausted brain didn't process it at the time.

But you sure are processing it now that you've been 'kidnapped' and taken back to his place.

He has already filled out a formal doctors note- benefits of being your primary physician- and sent it over to your bosses and managers. There's no arguing.

"Zayne, I'm-" "If you are about to try a weak attempt at convincing me you are alright, I will accept it as you insulting my intelligence as a doctor."

You're in his bed, under his blankets, probably in his pajamas since he wouldn't let you escape home, and drinking the warm drink he made for you to have after taking medicine he had given you to help with your illness. He'll order food that will be good for you to eat as well, and if it's too late for takeout, he'll definitely be cooking for you as well.

Once you're done eating, he'll make sure you're properly cared for by massaging any tired or pained muscles. If that's your entire body, then so be it. Close your eyes, tilt hour head back, and relax even though it hurts in a good way sometimes, because he's not letting up.

Not until you feel better. No matter how long that takes.

Rafayel -

Genuinely, he's offended and hurt that you've overworked yourself this hard and haven't told him. And boy, is he going to let you know it.

He's carrying you gently from wherever he had found you looking so tired- no it does not matter if you were in the middle of working- while actively scolding you in his arms.

"Maybe I should just leave you there all day, come see you in the evening when you get a bad case of amnesia. Would you like that? Huh? No? Well, then stop being stupid."

He doesn't even want to dare set foot in your place right now. He's not in the mood to clean, and he knows if this is the state you're in, your apartment is probably so much worse due to just how busy and exhausted you've been.

He'll go clean it later, but right now he's just grumpy.

There is something about the fresh, oceanside air that helps your headache though- or maybe it's the light linen on his bed that he would have dropped you on had you not looked like the most frail thing he had seen all week.

He's muttering snarky remarks to you, but they're devoid of any bite due to his actions as he speaks them-

Getting you a fluffy robe to change into, putting something simple in the oven while you get comfortable, working special lotion into your muscles, making you lemon and honey tea, making it more humid so any sinus problems clear and help you breathe- he's being vocal through it all, but spoiling you as much as he can nonetheless.

"I don't care if you have a lot to do. Just- ask for help next time. And if I can't help with your work, at least let me help you relax once you're home. I don't mind you staying over either, so that I can make you feel better. Just promise me you'll do better next time, so I can help you before you get this bad."

Xavier -

He probably stopped by your apartment to return something he borrowed, and you made the mistake of answering the door directly after coming home. You were at your peak of tired, and your head had started pounding for some reason... and didn't you feel a bit hot...?

"Oh- You look- You don't look very good. Is everything alright?"

You can't even answer before he's reaching out a hand to hover in front of you, trying to decide between touching you and not, before deciding on the former. He can feel you're just the slightest bit unsteady from working so you're being scooped up in an instant and taken to the bed you had already been planning to go to.

"What have they been having you do...? Never mind. That's- not important right now."

Takes off your shoes and socks, murmurs something about giving you a massage in a bit, before tugging blankets and plushies around you. He'll leave to let you change into pajamas or something more comfortable, and he'll keep himself busy by making you something to eat or clean up your apartment for you.

He tries to cook you something, he really does try. But he definitely has more talent at talking on the phone to the restaurant he's ordering you takeout from. The pan he tried to use does not survive the attempt.

The takeout is good when it comes, though, and it helps that he gave you some medicine prior to help keep it down. Even if you're not currently nauseous, he's pretty worried about your state worsening quickly.

You won't notice until it's too late, but he's already finding out how to transfer some of your workload to himself. By 'some', it's definitely 'all'.

"No, I won't change my mind. Not until you're better. You're so tired, let me do this for you. You can make it up to me by getting me something in the claw machine later."

Sylus -

"I'm just going to go-"

"Go where, kitten?"

You had made the mistake of nearly falling over under the watchful gaze of Mephisto, who had decided it would be absolutely wonderful to relay the information about it and your current state back to Sylus as quickly as he could.

Which is how you had ended up stuck in the hallway the led to your apartment, practically pinned to the wall with Sylus's hands on either side of you.

That is also how you ended up slung over Sylus's shoulder as he unlocked your apartment door for you and went inside, carrying you like it was nothing.

To be fair, you couldn't do much to fight him off this time except utilize a few choice words. You were so beyond exhausted, and starting to feel pretty ill, to boot.

He's got you to bed as soon as the door is shut. You're allowed a hot shower if you promise him a few dozen times that you'll get straight to bed after. He makes sure to promise you that he'll come and make you get in bed if you go against that promise. For once, you don't want to call his bluff.

You're in bed soon enough, with a cool rag pressed on your forehead, some pain medication long since down your throat, and food already on the way courtesy of Luke and Kieran's special henchmen delivery service.

Lying in bed is like heaven on your sore muscles and aching joints, not to mention the pounding headache you've had since starting to feel sick and missing out on sleep. But what somehow feels even better is Sylus's hands on you.

They're just gentle touches, his fingertips ghosting over your skin to leave goosebumps at how nice it feels, and sometimes his whole hands moving slowly and lightly across your body. He'll massage your muscles later, but for now, he's just focused on getting you to sleep, even if just for a little bit until the food gets here.

He knows you need it.

[sickfictropes]

the best part of a whump fic, to me, is the moment that caretaker realizes that something is wrong with a whumpee who was trying to hide it/fight through it. after hours or even days of not understanding why whumpee has been acting so strangely, it finally clicks. whatever emotions were there before--confusion, irritation, etc.--are immediately and completely replaced by intense concern. THAT'S the peak for me. where the magic happens. you can literally never go wrong with that moment.

[warmasf]

Obsessed with sick cuddles. I love it when people have a bad cold and just long for affection and warmth. I love it when someone is sniffly and tired and feverish and cold, their body begging to be held and comforted. I love it when they lean into the touch of their caregiver/significant other with such pleading affection, they just need to be held. I love it when said caregiver holds them close and lets them rest their feverish head on their chest, whispering sweet nothings into their ear, because the poor thing just doesn’t feel good.