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kotoku · 3 months

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ꜱᴜɴᴅᴀʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ꜱɪᴄᴋ! ꜱ/ᴏ

pairings - sunday x sick !reader

content - reader is sick and sunday spends his day taking care of you / fluff / comfort / sickfic / a lil bonus scene :)

warnings - none

⋘ ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ... ⋙

↻ It wasn’t often that you would get sick, but if you found yourself starting to exhibit symptoms of the flu then Sunday would clear his schedule to ensure he had the day off

↺ If he wasn’t able to completely clear his schedule, then he’d do his best to call and check on you, having another family member or worker tending to your needs

↻ I can see him as being a mother hen when you’re sick, always checking in on you and getting everything you needed

↺ He’ll make sure you always have tissues and a rubbish can near you, an ice pack or heating pad, a glass of water or tea, etc…

↻ If there isn’t already medicine on hand, he’d personally send someone to get one or get it himself

↺ Getting it himself would be the last resort as he would like to be by you 24/7, in case anything were to happen then he’d be right there

↻ Sunday would take over any chores that you normally did, cleaning and disinfecting around the place while you slept

↺ If you had to work that day, he’d call in for you so that you could have a couple days of rest

↻ He’d make sure that you would eat something that would be light on your stomach

↺ Meals consisting of different soups and a couple of diced fruits, refilling your water here and there (he’s kind of your personal maid at this point)

↻ If you need help taking a shower, he would assist you, washing your hair and massaging your scalp gently or scrubbing your back

↺ Sunday would find you especially cute when he’s drying your hair, you just look so soft

↻ Although he would try his best to try and not get sick, a couple kisses (mainly on your forehead or hands) couldn’t hurt..could they..?

↺ He probably would get sick by the time you are feeling much better, and as disappointed as he is that he has to miss out on work while burdening you with his sickness, he would be so grateful that you’re willing to take care of him

↺ Sunday would insist that he could do things on his own but you’d help him anyway, eventually he just accepts his fate

↻ Sunday would make sure that the room is comfortable for you, as in the lighting from outside isn’t too bright or it isn’t too hot or cold in there (just in case you were sensitive to sounds and light)

↺ Personally, headaches where light and noise make it worse are something I HATE

↻ If you need help falling asleep, he’d hum a lullaby (could be one of his sister’s songs or something from his childhood) or talk to you about anything (lulling you to sleep with his voice)

↺ Once you are asleep, he’d place a soft kiss on your forehead while holding your hand, tucking you in, and remaining by your side for the rest of your sleep

-----

The city noises were muffled, the lights from outside leaving the room dimly lit through the curtains. The temperature of the room was neither too hot nor too cold. Sunday had ensured the room was to your comfort, not wanting to worsen any headaches you may be experiencing.

Under thick comforters, you laid restlessly. As much as it was important to rest, you just couldn’t find a comfortable position. A knock at the door interrupted your struggles.

“Darling? Are you alright?” Sunday opened the door slightly, allowing the light from the hallway to seep in.

Fidgeting in your shared bed, you shook your head no, trying to refrain from straining your sore throat.

“Hm… You can’t sleep?” A nod of your head confirmed his suspicions.

He walked into the room, shutting the door behind him, and taking a seat near your spot on the bed. “Is there anything that I can do to help you?” Sunday hummed in thought, moving a strand of hair away from your heated forehead. You nodded again.

“...Do you want to hear a story?” In different circumstances, you would’ve chuckled at his suggestion, but you wouldn’t mind him telling one if it meant hearing him speak. Nodding with a small smile, you made yourself comfortable.

Sunday looked down at your hand, caressing your palm deep in thought. His wings slightly perked up once he found something to share, looking back up at you.

“During my childhood…”

For the rest of the night, Sunday would recall fond memories of his childhood, some that you’ve heard before and others that were new to you. Nevertheless, hearing his voice calmly recount stories had lulled you to sleep, your grip on his hand growing lax. Sunday noticed you had fallen asleep and his stories slowly came to a stop.

Smiling adoringly at your relaxed figure, he pulled the comforters up a little higher and gave a small kiss on your forehead.

“Goodnight darling, I will be here by your side until you wake. Sweet dreams.”

-----

↻ Once you wake up from your slumber, Sunday would be resting his head on your stomach, wings fluttering every couple of minutes

↻ Eventually, you would fall back asleep, hand resting on his head after running them through his messy strands

↻ Needless to say, with Sunday as your personal caretaker, you would be better in no time

⋘ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ! ⋙

note - thank you guys for reading! i am so so happy you all are enjoying the work i put out. currently, i am working on a request so stay tuned, not gonna spoil the content! ;)

#writing➠#hsr sunday x reader #sunday x reader #hsr #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #fluff #sickfic #comfort fic #i really love birds and used to have budgies so i like adding some of their characteristics to sunday lol

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radioroxx · 2 months

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in. clover lives aus or aus where they choose to live in the underground whatnot. i think more ppl should play with the idea that their friends know Jackshit About Humans. please and thanks

#undertale yellow #starlo thought humans were fireproof. whos gonna tell him #martlet was only able to recognize them for their hat #im sure they know SOME but. it would be sooo fucking funny if that knowledge is a limited as possible #monsters arent made of flesh n blood. do they know how to deal with scraps n bruises #do they know human sleep schedules. do they know about human health and illness. is anyone gonna tell starlo that clovers not fireproof #ive always been obsessed with scenarios of non-humans learning human facts jfkf things that r obvious to. us ofc #its always silly #anyway all that to say i have yet to see ONE sickfic <- disappointed #also im procrastinating doing research for school #guuuuyyyys if you loved me you talk to me while im doing researches. it helps i prommy

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iliterallyjustlivehere · 4 months

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my favorite thing in the world is when a character who's been pretending not to be sick all day ends their inner monologue with "I was fine."

and the next paragraph starts with "I was not fine."

kills me.

#i love it so much.#or when a character has been insisting theyre okay for a while now #realizes they can't fake it anymore and has to shamefully approach whoever they last assured #it takes a lot ofweed to get me going #but dont worry i am here #Sickfic #whump #whump writing #whump community

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flowercrowngods · 1 year

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in which steve is sick, eddie is in love, and floor time is being had

Eddie is in the kitchen when he hears the sound of footsteps approaching him. The smile is on his face before he even turns around to catch a glimpse of Steve, gloriously disheveled from all that sleep he’s been catching up on. He’s wearing one of Eddie’s big, fuzzy sweaters that Steve always hogs when he’s sick — which, thankfully, isn’t all that often —, a thick pair of sweats and mismatched socks.

Sickness is the time to wear mismatched socks without judgment, Edwin Munswin, Steve had huffed the first time Eddie saw him with a runny nose and ridiculous socks that definitely didn’t belong together. It had been the first time he admitted to himself that he was absolutely gone for Steve Runny Nose Harrington.

And so it doesn’t come as a surprise to him that his heart stumbles in his chest and the smile on his lips widens. Steve might hate being sick, but Eddie can’t really help but love him even more when he gets like this. When Steve allows himself to be a little weak and for Eddie to take care of him.

“Hi, sunshine,” Eddie says, turning down the heat on the stove to go over to his Stevie, wrapping his arms around the blanket Steve still has around his shoulders. “Sleep well?”

“Mmh.” It’s nothing more than a raspy grunt, a pathetic little noise as Steve cuddles further into Eddie, seeking out his warmth and comfort so freely that Eddie presses a kiss to his slightly sweaty forehead. “Missed you.”

“I’m right here,” he promises, running a hand up and down Steve’s back. “Just made you tea while the soup is warming up. Because you’re gonna have to eat.”

“Okay,” Steve nods, sounding solemn as he does, and Eddie wants to laugh. Gods, he’s so in love, it’s disgusting. Ridiculous. Absolutely laughable. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” A whisper, another promise, another kiss. He unwinds his arms and looks back at the giant pot of soup he made yesterday. “Do you wanna go back to bed or stay here?”

“Here,” Steve sighs and promptly sinks down the counter until he’s sitting on the floor, looking up at Eddie with those beautiful brown eyes, so big and and full of love that Eddie can’t resist ruffling his hair, which earns him a little giggle from Steve.

Oh, right, he’s had the good stuff prescribed from the doctor. This is going to be fun in a few hours.

“You ridiculous man,” Eddie murmurs, trailing his hand from the crown of Steve’s head down across his cheek all the way to his chin in a gentle caress.

“Go back to your soup, you most ridiculous of men,” Steve says in retaliation, but he reaches for his hand to hold as Eddie returns to the stove.

“Technically it’s your soup.”

“That’s what I said.” Eddie looks down to see the most adorable of frowns on Steve’s head, and his heart explodes a little in his chest.

He snorts and squeezes Steve’s hand. “Sure is, baby.”

“See? I’m smart sometimes.”

“No argument from me there,” Eddie says, and he means it.

A hum comes from Steve and then he leans his head against Eddie’s leg. “You’re so nice to me, Eds. I like that you’re nice to me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And then it’s quiet, and the weight of Steve against his leg becomes heavier by the second to the point where Eddie is pretty sure Steve’s fallen asleep again. He doesn’t dare to move, but dear God he wants to laugh, he wants to cry, wants to scream at the world how much he loves this ridiculous, adorable, possibly delirious and high on cold medication man who is wrapped in his blanket on their kitchen floor.

“Stevie,” he whispers at last, the soup hot, the tea just cool enough, and cards his hand through Steve’s hair to wake him. “Sunshine, wake up, I have soup for you.”

“Soup?”

“Soup.”

“But I love soup.”

“Then I have great news for you,” Eddie laughs and tilts Steve’s head up so he’ll meet his eyes. “It’s plenty, it’s warm, and you can have some. It’s right here.”

“You made me soup?”

“Yeah, babe,” Eddie chuckles, his heart tearing itself apart at the way Stevie looks up at him with such wonder and awe and love. “I made you so much soup. All for you.”

Steve nods, thinks for a moment and then looks up at Eddie again. “Can we share?”

“You wanna share your soup with me?” Eddie says, crouching down so he’s on eye level with Steve and can brush a kiss to his forehead again.

Steve nods again and reaches for him, clinging to Eddie’s sweater — well, it’s Steve’s technically. “Wanna share everything with you.“

“Even your blanket?”

Steve smiles and nods again, lifting one arm to invite Eddie in, which earns him a laugh. “Alright, let me just…”

He grabs two bowls of soup, Steve’s large mug of tea, two spoons and two pillows from their chairs so they can eat the soup on the floor without uncomfortable heat in their laps.

Later, when soup is but a distant memory of half an hour ago, Steve lets himself fall to the side and slumps into Eddie, head nestled on his shoulder.

“Sleep time again?” Eddie asks.

“No,” Steve slurs, definitely already on his way to half asleep. “Just. Just love you.”

Eddie hums and leans into Steve in return, warm underneath their blanket, surprisingly comfortable on the floor, backs against the counter. “Just love you, too, sunshine.”

And if Eddie closes his eyes, too, lulled into a sleepy state of comfort and warmth, then that’s just one more thing that happens with a sick Steve around.

In sickness and in health, he thinks with that same smile on his lips.

for @seidenbros, i besmooch your forehead with this 🌷🤍

#steddie #steddie fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things #y’all wick MediMait has like 600mg paracetamol and 18% alcohol and idk if y’all ever had it but it can leave you In A State #so here you have some ridiculous delirious ‘high’ steve and an eddie who couldn’t be more in love #i had meant to write more floor time but it felt forced so i left it where it is #dio words #this is my first sickfic ever idk how this works but them being ridiculously sweet is okay right?#my brother used to be ridiculously sweet on me when i was sick. and i on him. idk there’s just love all around when anyone’s sick #idk how else do deal with this??

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whiskey-tango-matcha · 19 days

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Chatterbox (M, cold, 'drabble')

A little prompt-based fluff for you guys :) Reed and Greyson go out to dinner, but Reed realizes something is up when Greyson won't shut tf up lol. I'm loving writing this relationship, I can't lie, so sorry if it's too much Reed and Greyson lately - I'll get back to my other guys soon!

1.6K words (just a tiny lil blip of a story haha) CW: Male snz, coughing, fever, contagion mention. Hope you like it :)

Chatterbox

Reed looked down at his phone as he waited on Greyson, rereading the stream-of-consciousness texts his boyfriend had sent throughout the day.

Greyson

1:42PM

sooo pumped for tonight bb :)

1:56PM

should I wear a suit…? I know it’s a new spot but the website definitely reads ‘fine dining’, like fine-er than most of my clothes know how to be...

2:24PM

I think I’ll do dark jeans & a black button up. johnny cash style. cant go wrong w that. hahah.

3:17PM

I know ur working still but im just really excited to see you:):)

It was cute – borderline adorable – how nervous Greyson seemed for their dates, even after almost a year of the two of them being together. Reed had, of course, answered Greyson’s plethora texts throughout the day, but had tried to keep himself subdued so he wouldn’t give away his hand; tonight, he was going to ask Greyson to move in with him.

He knew it was a bit of a long time coming, but Reed was really trying to keep from scaring Greyson off by doing anything too quickly. His boyfriend certainly had a bit of past-relationship trauma that Reed tried valiantly to navigate; it was hard to figure out what the right time to do anything was. Sometimes, he wasn’t sure there was ever going to be a right time to push their relationship to the next level. But things had been good lately; like, really good. Tonight felt… right.

Greyson’s presence was palpable before Reed even saw him blow through the door. He looked up from his phone and clocked his boyfriend, standing out side the restaurant with his elbow locked over his face; Reed cocked his head a bit, confused. Was he… coughing?

The chef, clad in the Johnny-Cash-getup he’d promised, shook himself out before pushing the door to the restaurant open. He pawed at his nose with the back of his hand while asking the hostess to point Reed out – she gestured towards their table, and Greyson smiled when the two of them locked eyes. Reed waved, smiling back. Something was certainly… off.

“Sorry I’m late, baby,” Greyson said, kissing the top of Reed’s head before sitting across from him. “The fuckin’ train was running late again.”

“I’ve told you a million times I’ll come pick you up for dates,” Reed said, squeezing Greyson’s hand across the table. “You don’t always have to take the train.”

Greyson shrugged, smiled a little loopily. “I like the train,” he said, picking up his menu and squinting at the small font. “Lots of time to think. I’ve come up with my best dishes on the subway, I’m pretty sure; you remember that tart I made for the writer’s dinner, the one where we saw each other for the second time? Came up with that on the train. I was sitting next to this girl, probably a student, and she was eating one of those little egg tarts, the ones from the Japanese bakeries? I thought, damn I bet a root vegetable in one of those would fuckin’ slay – spoiler alert, it so did. Where would I have come up with that if not for the train? Plus, it’s one of the most sustainable ways to travel. I get my good karma for not actively killing the environment in. Win-win. What’re we eat – HTSHH! NXTSHH!” Greyson’s explosion of word vomit was very suddenly cut off to stifle two painful-sounding sneezes into the back of his hand.

Reed blinked for what was maybe the first time since his boyfriend sat down. “...bless,” he said after a beat. Greyson nodded, sniffled a little, and picked the menu back up.

“What’s this place’s thing anyway?” Greyson continued, flipping the menu over to look at drinks. “I can’t seem to figure it out; are they Italian? Mediterranean? Fine dining? Just high-end? No tasting menu, but prices are high enough to warrant one. Wine list reads very Italian, but there are like three dishes with hummus on them? I’m half-expecting to be served babaganoush bolognese. Which… maybe would work? Actually, eggplant, tomato sauce… I could see it working. You never know. Can’t judge a book by its menu, right? What’re you drinking? Want to get a bot -?”

This second monologue was cut short when Reed reached across the table to place a gentle hand on Greyson’s face. Just as he expected: hot.

“Babe,” Reed said gently, taking his hand back, “you’re burning up.”

The chef cast his glance down, embarrassed. “You weren’t supposed to figure that out till after dinner,” he muttered. Reed laughed.

“Seriously? You had to know I’d figure something was up. You’ve been monologing since the moment you sat down. Have you been sick all day? You should’ve told me, honey. How much cough medicine did you take before you showed up here?”

Greyson looked up at Reed and gave him a little half-smile. “Pretty sure I downed half a bottle of Robutusssin, not gonna liiii – hh! HhNXTSHH-ue! Huh-TSHH-ue!” Once again, Greyson attempted to stifle, to no avail. He allowed himself two painful little coughs before righting himself again.

“Bless you,” Reed said again. “I wish you would just sneeze normal, that always sounds so painful.”

“We’re in a restaurant,” Greyson said, a huskiness beginning to creep in to his voice. “That’s so gross.”

Reed rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. Who cares? No one’s looking at us. They’re too busy with their many, many hummuses.”

A laugh bubbled out of Greyson, and with it came a flurry of congested coughs he directed into the sleeve of his shirt. “Don’t mbake me laugh,” he muttered, taking a drink of water. “You’re gonna get us kicked out.”

“Good,” Reed said, flagging the waiter. “I’m so sorry,” he said when the young, well-dressed server came to their table, “something’s come up and we’re going to have to go.” He handed the kid a fifty. “Thank you for your help.”

The server nodded, said thank you to Reed, and went to grab the two men’s jackets. Greyson raised an eyebrow, confused. “What’re you doing?”

“Taking you home,” Reed said. “You need tea and soup, not…” he glanced back down at the menu, “fattoush flatbread.” Greyson visibly deflated.

“I wanted to spend the evening with you,” he said, his voice subdued. “I’m sorry. I should’ve called and canceled, I just… I mbiss you when we don’t see each other all week. You’re always busy, I’mb always busy, it just fucking sucks. I don’t even know how I got fucking sick… oh wait, yes I do. Elijah had a cold last week – was that last week? Did I tell you that? I can’t remember. I think the servers gave it to him. Fuckin’ servers, I’ve never met a group of people who get sick mbore than theehh – huh! Fuck – HUHETSHHH-ue! Huh-! HhITSZZZCH-ue!” Greyson folded in half, his torso practically beneath the table in an attempt to keep the entire restaurant from hearing him. It was, of course, at that moment that the server returned with their coats. Reed took them silently, and stood to gather his boyfriend, who slowly unfurled himself from his own lap.

“Bless you,” he said, gently helping Greyson to his feet and slipping his coat over his shoulders. He lead the two of them past the host stand and onto the sidewalk, where he turned Greyson to face him.

“First of all,” he said, sweeping Greyson’s hair out of his eyes and caressing his cheek, “I know a subset of people who get sick more than servers, and it’s chefs. You and all your chef buddies are pestilence incarnate because you work nine hundred hours a week.” This prompted a little laugh from Greyson. Perfect, thought Reed. Break the tension.

“Secondly, yes, you did tell me that Elijah was sick, and I told you, and I quote, ‘Don’t get too close, I know you two love to share a cold’, but I know you don’t like to listen to authority, so not sure what I expected.” Another laugh. Greyson pushed his hair back, rubbed his nose, and pulled Reed in to hug him. Reed continued from this spot, pressed into Greyson’s shoulder.

“And thirdly,” he said, “I miss you too. All the time. Which is why I asked you out tonight.” He pulled away, reached into his pocket, and dropped a key into Greyson’s palm. “I don’t want to miss you anymore. I don’t want you to have to take the train from Brooklyn every single night, I don’t want us to hang out once a week, I don’t want to drop you at your apartment to take care of yourself. I want to see you when I wake up every morning. I want to hear you sneak in at three AM after you and Matt go clubbing. I want to take care of you, at home, when you’re sick.” Reed smiled, a little embarrassed, as Greyson stared at the key. “Move in with me,” Reed said. “Please.”

Greyson’s mouth opened, then shut without words a couple of times before he looked Reed in the eyes. “Yes,” he said, nodding. “Okay. Yes. Yes, please.”

Reed felt a smile bloom on his face, huge, goofy, unashamed. He took Greyson’s face in his hands and planted a kiss on his lips. Greyson held his boyfriend by the waist, then picked him up to spin him around. “I love you,” Greyson muttered into Reed’s mouth.

“I love you more,” Reed said, smiling. Greyson turned away then, suddenly to -

“HRRSHH-ue! HhhITSHZZCH-ue!” he sneezed away from his boyfriend, which prompted a laugh from Reed.

“Probably too late for that nicety,” Reed joked, elbowing Greyson playfully. The chef huffed out a laugh and rolled his eyes.

“I figured sneezing directly into your face would probably kill the moment,” he said, sniffling. “But I’ll go ahead and just do it next time.”

“Oh, shut up,” Reed laughed, kissing Greyson again. “C’mon. Let’s get you home and in bed. Sickie.”

Greyson smiled a little. “Yeah,” he said, looping his arm into Reed’s. “Let’s go home.”

#whiskeyswriting #snz #sickfic #snzfic #snzblr #coldfic #male cold #male snz #idk idk they're just so cute i love a happy greyson #i mean i love an angry greyson too but it's fun to write something happy idk #im thinking my next big fic will be an elijah drama fest tho... i have IDEAS

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undercover-horn-blog · 6 months

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As much as I adore a sick character in denial (we all do, let's be real)... I can also be so weak for a character who is just 100% open, honest, casual and unbothered by their own illness.

No whining either. They have simply accepted their fate and are not dwelling on it, you know?

"Bless you! Are you okay?" *shrug* "I have a cold."

"Jesus, you sound awful!" "Yeah, I'm coming down with something."

"You're sneezing a lot." "Oh, yeah, pretty sure I've caught a cold."

But they just... go about their day, you know? Sneezing, coughing, sniffling... Not denying it, but also not making a big deal out of it in any way. Not a hint of embarrassment about their symptoms either. Just truly... unbothered.

#snz #snzblr #snz thoughts #sicknarios #whump #whump writing #sicknario #sickfic #this might be niche idk #but for some reason i find it so so hot #like i said denial is great as well #but this... much more unusual in fic #unheard of even?#but i love it!!

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kentosbabes · 1 year

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m not sure if you did this, but how about nanami and sick reader? sorry my daddy issues are speaking rn

Omg this could not have come at a better time, I'm delusional AND I was sick yesterday xxx

Nanami and sick reader

Nanami who comes home to you being sick in the bathroom, he ties up your hair and gets you water. His hand stroking your head and patting your back methodically and asking if you are ok.

Nanami who never misses a day from work calls his boss telling him he won't be in, he knows he would be too worried about you to leave the house. He would be too preoccupied with you running his head to even think about leaving you by yourself.

Nanami who makes you breakfast, plain bread with butter, water and medicine he stepped out to buy while you were having a nap. He really wishes that he could make something better but this is all you can eat without being sick again.

Nanami who makes you lemon and honey tea when you start to feel a little better, his mother used to give it to him when he was sick and it is only fitting that you get the same treatment.

Nanami who reads to you to get you to sleep again, he picks up a book from your 'pile' on your bedside table. He happens to pick up Pride and Prejudice and even does the British accents with the voices.

Nanami who begs you to take it easy after you wake up and want to finish some work. "Are you going to be a good girl? Let me take care of you." He knows you feel uncomfortable just doing nothing at home whilst there is still work to be completed so he tries to make you feel better by distracting you.

Nanami who presses kisses on your forehead and your cheek despite you telling him he's going to get sick as well, he only responds with, "Then we can be sick together."

Nanami who checks your fever by placing the back of his large hand on your forehead, he strokes your hair and starts to play with it lying down and grabbing the remote to put some true crime documentary on Netflix you've been meaning to watch.

Nanami who made you some chicken noodle soup from scratch using his grandmother's recipe, the smell woke you up and you walked into the kitchen seeing him wearing the novelty pink frilly apron Gojo got him for his birthday and his long-sleeved top rolled back to his elbows.

Nanami who sat you down promptly, once realising that you can't lift the spoon well due to your weakness, he started to feed you. He wiped the soup on your chin with one hand and went back to holding yours.

Nanami whose hands traced circles into your back whilst you cuddled him on the sofa. He started to give you a proper massage and even got the oils out from the bathroom cabinet. His large and dexterous hands squeezed and pulled all the knots in your neck from sleeping all day. "You know I love those cute noises you’re making sweetheart."

Nanami who sleeps with you, legs entwined with yours, his hands encircling your waist and his head on your neck. Nanami wants to keep you as close as possible to him as much as he can. The warmth and rhythmic breathing makes it easier for you both to sleep. He thinks you're asleep so he starts to confess to you, "I love you so much I don't think I could live without you," and "I got so worried this morning I don't think I could've gone into the office without leaving an hour in."

masterlist

#nanami headcanons #kento nanami #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento #nanami kento drabble #nanami kento x you #kento nanami x y/n #kento nanami fluff #nanami fluff #nanami x reader #sickfic #sick day #hes so bbg #i love him #lawd have mercy

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sickficideas · 5 months

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moriarty brothers illness headcanons :)

William

- very easily motion sick. it's not as bad on trains or carriages but anything on water is guaranteed to make him feel nauseous

- prone to fevers...they're not always very high, but sometimes he'll be working all day with a low grade fever and no one will have a clue. once it gets high enough, though, everyone starts to notice, but William will usually keep working until someone makes him stop (and at that point he's a pushover)

- everyone is aware of his tendency to suddenly fall asleep (undiagnosed narcolepsy lol) but it's worse when he's sick, and he's much more difficult to wake when he's sick

- post-The Final Problem, he's gotten more sickly, and he's much more aware and accepting of when he needs to rest. he's often super faint and dizzy and has issues walking for long periods of time, so he always takes Sherlock's arm when it's too much

- Sherlock laying with him when he's not feeling well, giving him tummy rubs when he feels nauseous and making sure he's comfortable enough to sleep uninterrupted...William often makes himself feel worse when he worries about his family and even though Sherlock understands his pain he's gotten good at derailing his thoughts

Louis

- he has to take daily medication for his heart...if he ever misses a dose or the formulation is off, it's obvious - he's pale, dizzy, and faint all day. he will absolutely get irritable too. William will notice it coming on when he gets a little snappy

- he's generally pretty sickly, despite denying it, and he's not good at hiding anything or taking care of himself. anyone other than William has to tread carefully with accusing him of being sick because he'll get defensive. most of them have learned to just tell William if something is wrong with Louis instead of confronting him themselves. but Louis hates that even more, William worries too much about him 💔

- he has a very sensitive stomach...not only with food, but his stomach reacts to unpleasant sights and smells too to a certain extent. if he sees something that makes his stomach churn he'll turn around, cover his mouth and breathe hard through his nose and that usually works okay. he's used to his stomach hurting but tries to avoid throwing up at all cost, especially in front of others

Albert

- he is ridiculously good at hiding when he doesn't feel well. like William, he can continue working despite his condition, but he's much more stubborn about stopping. usually it works out in his favor but there has been a few times where he's truly needed help

- Mycroft has personally witnessed him very politely excuse himself to throw up and come back and seem perfectly fine, like nothing ever happened :) Mycroft thinks it's kind of attractive

- Albert is a pro at throwing up 🙏 it doesn't bother him much at all, and because of this he's very good at taking care of his brothers when their stomachs are sick

- he's not sick very often and generally has a good immune system, but stress will usually be the reason he falls ill. he's also fallen victim to a hangover every now and then too lol

#i love them all dearly ... yuumori fans are all welcome in my ask box as well lol #yuukoku no moriarty #moriarty the patriot #sickfic #yuumori headcanons #vomiting #emeto #sicknario #emeto scenario #illness #sick #fever #emetophilia #nausea #william james moriarty #albert james moriarty #louis james moriarty #sherlock holmes #mycroft holmes

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yourlazykitkat · 27 days

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I don’t know why but I always imagine azris falling in love in the the winter court.

They’d both be there for work- Eris seamlessly stringing people along with his silver tongue, Azriel spying through the pale shadows of winter. There’s a mutual understanding that when Eris notices a few rebellious shadows, he looks away with a blinding smile so that whatever courtier he’s charming doesn’t see a thing, that when Azriel watches Eris slip into the private rooms- he calls his own spies off and attends himself so that whisper of a conspiracy does not bleed out. They don’t get along at all but they are reluctant allies.

Which makes things confusing when Eris catches a glimpse of Azriel from his guest room windows. The sharp, dangerous edges of an imposing Ilyrian softening in the gentle rain of snow, sleet falling on a beautiful face which shifts from cold stone to quiet wonder. Things are confusing when Azriel as a spy, an extremely unwelcome guest, has no place to stay but cold abandoned rooms and empty rafters. Illyrians are resistant to the colder more than others but it doesn’t stop Eris taking pity on Azriel who’s shoulders are stiff and fingers are blue. Eris is warm, his hand drags Azriel to his own quarters- Azriel has never held someone who’s blood runs so hot. He wonders if all autumn fae are like this or if it’s just Eris. The autumn prince will hide Azriel in his room and it gets confusing when late nights when either of them can sleep, they start talking about Eris’ dogs, Azriel’s shadows. They argue until they have to go to bed furious at each other (but keep each other warm) on some nights and others, they confess forgotten dreams and weak promises.

It’s confusing because they’re both workaholics who know better than this. There’s no playing at work- that just leads to horrible choices and decisions that they can’t afford to make. They act on behalf of their courts, they’ve learned better than to listen to their thundering, traitorous hearts.

It was useless to fight it, the surge of emotion, the falling in love. Azriel has never felt more helpless when he treks the wintery forests with Eris one day for no other reason than the fact he wants to- watching Eris scale a tree with a fire flickering beneath his feet. Eris shakes the tree, ice and snow falls on Azriel and he can only look in the same wonder as that first night. Eris slips, on purpose or on accident, and Azriel rushes forward to soften the other’s fall. The flash of lovely red hair again the pure snow, warm laughter ringing out and Eris as an anchor in his arms- Azriel has never been more helpless.

Or Eris, who plays along with the winter nobles, with the high lord and lady. By the end of the day, he’s exhausted with these games. He doesn’t want to play with the mask. In quiet moments of respite, he sits in the cozy libraries with a book and by the frosted windows. He never finishes a book because by the time he opens to the first page, writing appears in the frost. Telling him he looks stupid, telling him he looks like a pretentious fuck. Telling him that they’ll bring back liquorice tonight from the court’s premiere confectionary even though liquorice fucking sucks Eris. Eris will write back. They’ll spar with a thesaurus: brute, prick, pain in my ass, the bane of my existence, the death of me- and one day the frost answers back a word Eris doesn’t recognise. But he is in a library and he hunts down the answer and when he does, his ears are red all through dinner. It was too much effort, he thinks to himself when laying in bed with Azriel who sleeps soundly with a strong arm over Eris, too fight against this.

#azris #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #eris vanserra #eris acotar #i’m just a delulu girl living in an azris world #azris supremacy #acotar #sorry I haven’t posted in a while #I’m always thinking about azris #but I’ve been trying to write actual fics for azris week #I love them #I think they should kiss in the snow #also an excellent opportunity for a sick fic #what is a fandom without a sickfic

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aj-theteenagecondition · 14 days

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sick fic idea that i would write if i could write

jack (clearly sick, clearly unwell) knocking on the jacobs door to walk david and les to their selling spot, leaning on the door after he knocks, and practically falling into david when he opens the door

les being super helpful "hi jack, oh wow you look terrible!"

david being all... why dont you sit down while i finish my coffee, but actually just getting him to come in and sit down

jack falling asleep at the table

david taking les to meet crutchie or someone to look after him for the day

esther finding jack asleep at the table and making him tea and putting him to bed

david coming back and getting into bed with him

esther coming in later and seeing them asleep together and just being like "ah my boys are gay. good for them! GOOD FOR THEM!"

#yes i need to live vicariously to experience parental attention and romantic love #newsies #newsies 1992 #javid #idk i just like sick fics #i have never felt taken care of without feeling deeply ashamed of needing anything or anyone #92sies #david jacobs #jack kelly #fanfiction #sickfic

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writing-whump · 2 months

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Too much sun

Matt gets sick and calls Isaiah for help. Contains emeto.

"Have fun, Matt."

Matthew turned at the phrase, giving Isaiah a sceptical look. "Last time you send me away to have fun, you ended up with a flu from hell. I'm not making the same mistake."

Isaiah sighed. "Alright, but that's a lesson for me, not for you. And I did call Sel back, didn't I?"

Matthew frowned. He was all ready to leave, shorts and a shirt. Some of his new friends from boxing invited him to a basketball game and the weather was perfect for the courts outside on the beach by the Danube river.

"Matt, for real. I'm alright. I'm literally swarmed with homework and assignments, I'm doing two lectures outside my faculty and I don't know what their faculty's style and method focus is at all and I'm gonna be trying to do the volunteering thing at the lawyer's office for wolves on Fridays...besides, I was no invited," Isaiah said with a smirk.

He was so happy Matthew was getting his own friends, that he was reaching out to people and they were reaching back. And not just because they knew he was in the pack with Isaiah.

Matthew needed his confidence in this department build up, and there was nothing better for it than experience.

Matthew bounced on his toes, not looking reassured.

Isaiah grimaced. Did he need to hand out test screenings of his health for his friends to believe him, when he wasn't sick? This was getting out of hand.

"Alright, I'm going. See you in a few hours." Matt probably figured not that much could happen in that time as he turned to leave.

Isaiah relaxed, chuckling a little for himself as he opened his laptop to scroll to the right pdf.

The time flew quickly after he got to work, morning turning to midday and to early afternoon that forced Isaiah to fix himself a lunch as a break. He was working his to do list off very well, satisfied, neglecting his breaks.

Around 2 pm he was sipping coffee on the balcony, wondering if he shouldn't take a walk or go on a quick run. Would Matt be in the mood for some sparring, when he got back, or would he be too tired?

Seline was visiting her parents, hopefully successfully this weekend. One of her uncle's was celebrating his 50th birthday, so she was even farther away from him than usual, someone in Central Slovakia.

Very human focused family from her father's side, since the wolf part came from her mother. Isaiah wondered what it would be like to be there with her. He could play the perfect human, he had no doubt of that, but Seline didn't want him to play one. She wanted him to be a wolf, but introducing a wolf to the family was a more serious business and they both knew it.

His phone rang on the little glass table on the balcony, Matthew's name on the screen.

Isaiah smiled, picking up. "Miss me already?"

"I...saiah..."

Isaiah's smile disappeared at the weakness in Matthew's voice. "Matt? Hey, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

He heard coughing that turned into gags on the other end of the line. "C-could you...come pick me up? P-please..."

Isaiah was at his feet that instant. "Yes, of course. You are at the sport park, right?" He went inside as he spoke, grabbing his car keys. He was really grateful for his car during emergencies, even if the parking situation in Vienna was an expensive tedious business.

"Y-yeah." There was something slurred and scared in the trembling sentence.

"Matt, talk to me." Isaiah locked the door to the apartment, taking the stairs instead of the elevator. "What's wrong with you? Are you hurt?"

"I don't know what's wrong- I can't-urrup-" There was more gagging and something wet hitting the concrete.

"I'll be right there."

The way there was a blur with Isaiah wracking his head about what could have happened on the court. Concussion? Did he suddenly get sick? A fight with some hostile wolves passing through?

He parked the car the closest he could get to the area, getting out, just about to call Matthew for a GPS location, when he spotted a mop of dark red hair on a bench near the basketball court.

Isaiah all about ran to the place, heart speeding anxiously.

Matthew sat hunched down, elbows on his knees. There was no blood and no shadow, no visible signs of injury.

"Matt? Hey, man..."

Matthew lifted his head, squinting his eyes at Isaiah like he was looking straight into the sun and not into a pleasant afternoon shade under the trees. "Hi..."

That's when Isaiah noticed the vomit covering the ground, part of the bench and Matt's left sneaker.

Isaiah sat down on the clean part of the wood, hand going to Matthew's neck. "What happened? What's wrong?"

Matthew slumped forward at Isaiah's touch. "I don't know. We were playing just normal, it was hot and good and all. And then my head started to pound and I got dizzy and suddenly I was throwing up all over the place and I don't know why." There was more than a hint of frustration in Matthew's explanation.

"Okay, okay, we are gonna figure this out." Isaiah ran his hands over Matthew's face, his pupils were normal, there were no bumps...he was really hot and dry to the touch. He could feel no sweat, wasn't that weird after an intense game of basketball on a warm day?

Matthew's face scrunched up in a grimace at the ministrations, closing his eyes. His body suddenly pitched forward with a heave, bringing up a chunky wave of vomit.

Isaiah scrambled to turn Matthew's face towards the sidewalk, between his legs instead of at him, gripping his shoulder and upper arm to steady him. "Okay, bud, get it all out."

"C-can't stop," Matthew managed between gags, spitting at the puddle. He wrapped his hands around his stomach, hunching over even more. "My head really hurts, Zaya."

"Your head? Not your stomach?"

Matthew groaned, slumping to the side against Isaiah who let him fall into his lap, rubbing his back and shoulder. "Everything hurts. Cramps like a motherfucker."

"Okay. Just breathe, it will pass in a minute," Isaiah promised, not sure what it still was.

Matthew squeezed his eyes shut, head on Isaiah's tight, his face one pained grimace, throat bobbing.

"We are just going to stay here and breathe and then I'm going to get you home and it will all be okay," Isaiah said as calmly as he could, rubbing his arm. Could this be some kind of heat related issue? Heat exhaustion or heat stroke? He wasn't that sure of the difference, just that the symptoms were kind of similar.

"...ruined everything again," Matthew said, curling around his stomach.

Isaiah scoffed. "You didn't ruin anything, that's nonse-"

"Got all sick during the game. They all left."

Isaiah frowned, angry coldness entering his voice. "Then they aren't good friends. In fact, they aren't even decent people, to leave someone who is sick alone. What idiots."

"Nobody else got sick, I must have done something wrong..."

"No, you didn't. I think you got a bit of a heatstroke, there, bud, can happen to anybody." Isaiah put the back of his hand to Matthew's creased forehead. Still no sweat and hot to the touch. "We need to get you home and cool you down."

"Uhmmmm," Matthew grunted. "Don't wanna move. Dizzy."

"It's not going to get any better here. I got water in the car and we will be home quick, I promise. I'll help you."

Matthew took a deep shaky breath, but then started to lift himself up. Isaiah helped him to straighten up on the bench, then guided his arm around his shoulders, wrapping his hand gently around Matthew's torso.

The moment they stood up, Matthew groaned, more puke exploding out of his mouth.

Isaiah held him steady, when he swayed, more vomit splattering in front of them, spluttering everywhere.

"Ughhhh, sorry..."

"Shhhhh. Not your fault. Can you walk? One step at a time, we'll go slow."

Matthew got heavier, most of his weight hanging on Isaiah as he fought to catch his balance. He squeezed his eyes shut with force as if to block out all the light.

They made a few steps, when Matthew froze, gripping Isaiah's sleeve on his upper arm in panic. "Zaya, I can't see, I can't see- what-"

Isaiah felt cold sweat on the back his neck, stopping immediately. Matthew's eyes were screwed shut. "Shhhh, okay, don't panic. Describe it to me. What can you see? Pitch black? A blot at the center?"

"It's like black spots all over-" Matthew sniffled, sounding dangerously close to crying, breathing fast as he turned towards Isaiah's voice.

Isaiah readjusted his grip, one arm under Matthew's armpit all around his torso, holding Matt's arm around his neck tighter. "Could be just from standing up and the elevation changing. It will clear out in a few seconds." He stopped adding promises to his sentences, mentally preparing to just call 911 if it didn't.

Matthew gasped for breath as if he was choking, blinking his eyes, then breathed in relief. "It's clearing up again..."

Isaiah didn't let out the deep sigh of relief stuck in his chest, pretending like that was what he expected. "All good now. You are okay. Just a few more steps to the car."

Matthew's grip on Isaiah's sleeve didn't loosen, but he nodded tightly, letting himself be dragged forward.

Isaiah fiddled with finding the car keys, opening the back seat door to slide Matthew inside, door open, in case he needed to vomit some more.

He went to the trunk to locate a water bottle and some plastic bags, crouching down next to Matthew.

"How are you feeling, bud?" Isaiah offered Matthew the water bottle.

Matt took it, but didn't drink, eyes closed, but not squeezing them shut anymore, as if he was afraid it would make his vision blotchy again. "Ughmmmm. Like I'm gonna throw up."

Isaiah rubbed his arm. "I'm sorry."

"Everything-everything's spinning," Matthew belched, gripping the water bottle in his fist, the plastic squeaking under his fingers.

"This is very likely a heatstroke. The headache, the nausea, the dizziness....it will be fine. We'll cool you down, get you some good meds, and it will all go away."

"Uhhhhmmm," Matthew wiggled his hands restlessly in discomfort, bowing his head. "I'm such an idiot. Why didn't I know this could happen? So stupid."

"It's different for everyone. Some can take the heat better than others. You will know what signs to look out for next time. It's okay."

"But I wanted to- wanted to do something on my own for once." Matthew's whole face crumbled. "I didn't want to drag you into it to save me, I wanted to do it on my own-" Matthew sniffled again, breathing picking up and he leaned forward to rest his forehead against the seat in front of him.

Isaiah's chest squeezed, realizing Matthew would be crying if he had the tears to spare.

Isaiah circled the car to climb in from the other side, hand going around Matthew's back to push him against his chest. "Aww, come on, bud. You did everything right. You are meeting new people, you got that new boxing gym...you are putting yourself out there, building a life for yourself outside your shadow, without accidents or fights you don't want. You are doing great."

Matthew let himself get dragged back into Isaiah's lap, breathing still panicked. "L-look how stupid I am. People are supposed to know these things at my age- they-I'm not supposed to be a burden on you, constantly getting sick on you-"

"Hey, hey, hey. Don't talk like that. We all have our own learning curve. You were on your own from such an early age, Matt, it's harder to find out on your own," Isaiah said gently. "Besides, you are not a burden. You are my best friend. I don't mind saving your ass, when you need it."

Matthew snorted despite himself, before taking another shuddering breath. "Seline said- and the points- I don't know if I have enough- if I can help as much as you- you didn't call me and I-" he buried his head against Isaiah's stomach, shaking.

"Points? What points?" Isaiah didn't understand and didn't think this was time to find out. "You are doing enough. It's okay. We love you, of course we would want to help out. Not your fault, when you get sick. It's not a burden."

"It-it is, even you think you-"

"It's not a burden to get sick," Isaiah said firmly, rubbing Matthew's back. "Shhhhh. It's okay."

They sat there for a few minutes, Isaiah rubbing circles to Matthew's back and listening to his breathing hitching as he sniffled and found a slower breathing rhythm, watching out for gagging noises.

"There you go. All better," Isaiah murmured. "You didn't have a family that would look out for you like this. That's why you feel like a burden. It's not your fault, but it's not fair at all for you to feel like that. You get sick and we'll deal with it."

Matthew was lying limply over him, breathing much calmer, though he was still pale and frowning, lips pressed in a thin line.

"Come on, bud, let's get home....I can't drive like this," Isaiah said with a small smile, ranning his fingers through Matthew's hair.

Matthew lifted himself up with a groan, enough for Isaiah to slip from underneath him.

"What if I throw up on the way?" Matthew said quietly, stretched out over the back seats.

"There is a bag right next to you. And if you do, you do. It isn't such a big deal." Isaiah just wanted him home and lying down in a cool place already. The car was getting overheated, standing in full blown sun.

"Uhmmmmm," Matthew moaned as Isaiah got the engine started, a/c on full blast. "If it's no big deal...don't think...you had the right family either...Zaya."

Isaiah's stomach flipped at the words. He swallowed heavily, focusing on backing the car out the parking lot.

@bellysoupset

#emeto #sickfic #emetophilia #brotp #hurt/comofort #bromance #whump #angst #whump writing #my writing #werewolf wip #these two are a classic okay #I love their friendship #Matt

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