#sicktember day 26

[acasualcrossfade]

Glasses and Warm Compresses

Sicktember Day 26: Pink Eye/Conjunctivitis

Stranger Things: Steve Harrington/ Eddie Munson

Words: 500 | Rating: T | CW: none

@sicktember

Summary: Steve gets pink eye from Eddie. Eddie takes care of him.

Find me on Ao3!

--

“Is pink eye contagious?” Steve asked, looking at his infected eye in the mirror. “Cause whatever was going on with your eye the other day seems to be happening to mine.”

Steve rubbed at it absently and did his best to clear the gunk that had gathered in the corners of his eye. It was an angry pink-red.

Eddie entered the bathroom a minute later wearing a pair of Steve’s pajama pants and shirt. 

“Why are you asking?” Eddie asked and then stopped at the sight of Steve’s eye. “Think I might have passed it to you,” Eddie winced. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

Steve frowned at his reflection in the mirror. “I look like a pirate,” he grumbled. “And not a cool one. An infected one.” He reached for his contacts, but Eddie’s hand stopped him.

“Wait, you’re not supposed to wear contacts with pink eye.”

“Well, how am I supposed to see, then?”

Eddie nodded towards Steve’s abandoned glasses on the bedside table. “I know you hate them, but they’re your best bet for this.”

Steve rolled his eyes. The pink eye rolled with him. “They make me look ridiculous.” 

He’d gotten glasses a little over a year ago but still hadn’t adjusted to them. The technicians made sure the piece that went over his ear wasn’t too tight. The last thing he needed was more headaches. 

Still, the glasses had felt foreign on Steve’s face and he was convinced he looked like a substitute teacher or worse, a person who was trying too hard to look smart.  

“Stevie, you look cute in glasses,” Eddie encouraged. He reached for them and presented them to Steve, the black frames balanced in the palm of his hands. “And besides, you’re staying home today so you’ll just be in the house wearing them.”

Steve made a face but reluctantly slipped them on. 

“See?” Eddie gushed, encouraging Steve to look at himself in the mirror. “They’re cute. And they frame your face well, too.”

Steve looked at himself in the mirror, trying to see how Eddie saw him. “I’ll take your word for it,” Steve sighed. He focused on Eddie’s reflection to distract him as he fought the urge to itch his eye. “So, what did you do to help the itching?”

“Warm compresses, actually,” Eddie remembered. “Here, I’ll grab the stuff and meet you on the bed.”

Steve sat on the bed as he waited for Eddie and smiled when Eddie sat against the headboard, nudging Steve to lean into him. 

“Here, this warm cloth sits right over your eye,” Eddie explained, placing the warm washcloth over Steve’s infected eye. “And we’ll do it a few times a day.” 

At first the heat felt odd against Steve’s face, but sure enough, it helped his eye relax. Steve found himself leaning heavier into Eddie. “S’relaxing. This mean I get to cuddle you each time?” He tilted his head up to look at Eddie.

“Yep,” Eddie responded, kissing Steve’s nose. “I’m looking forward to it, too.”

#sicktember 2023 #sicktember day 26 #Pink Eye/Conjunctivitis #steddie #steddie fics #hurt steve harrington #caring eddie munson

[groundcontrol21]

Sicktember #26

Prompt #26: Tickle in the Throat

Character(s): Jonathan Lindsay (remember him?)

Title: Suffering in Silence

Summary: Perhaps Jonathan Lindsay should not have gone into Parliament with a brewing cold; in any case, he is here now, and he will not interrupt the proceedings by coughing.

Notes: If any of you were a fly on the wall back in the day, you may recognize the lines of Parliamentary speech that I stole directly from Edmund Burke’s 1774 speech On American Taxation to the House of Commons. Considering this takes place 20 years before and in the House of Lords, you may be like why, but just remember this is, at the end of the day, a snz fic and I stole the least interesting and most generic bits. 

On a good day, listening to the petty gripes and cosseted rhetoric of his fellow Lords at Parliament gave Jonathan Lindsay a headache, but on a day such as this one when his head was already pounding without such assistance–well, he was beginning to entertain a private fantasy of bashing his temples in with the speaker’s gavel. Sarah had recognized his headache the moment he blinked at her in the morning sunlight (and really, when had they started deciphering each other’s pain based on some sort of invisible semaphore?) and advised him not to go, for he would soon be falling ill. Jonathan agreed with her on the outcome but not the time frame, arguing that he had at least another day of a throbbing head before the rest of his symptoms followed, and so he could last a day in Parliament. 

But now, he was beginning to wonder whether his wife did not possess some powers of divination. Jonathan’s throat was beginning to tickle, but it absolutely would not do to cough. He resolved to do his best to ignore it, but the speech currently being given to the Lords by Baron Lord George Southcote was not providing the type of riveting distraction needed to make such a thing possible.

“It is so said in the paper in my hand.” Southcote held up the paper for emphasis, and Jonathan felt his headache grow. “A paper which I constantly carry about; which I have often used, and shall often use again…”

Perhaps a small clearing of the throat would rid him of the sensation.

“Though I find myself mistaken…”

If anything, the endeavor to clear his throat only increased Jonathan’s urgent need to cough, and so he changed course. Perhaps if he exhaled forcefully, his body would be fooled into thinking he had coughed, and would be satisfied and allow him to be rid of this torment.

“…he will still permit me to use the privilege of an old friendship; he will permit me to apply myself to the House under the sanction of his authority…”

Jonathan tried a half-cough, a breathy, airy little thing, which somehow made his throat itch all the more. 

“...and, on the various grounds he has measured out, to submit to you the poor opinions which I have formed upon a matter of importance….”

If the man continued on in this manner, Jonathan truly did not know if he could survive the session. He had not even glimpsed the barest glint of an argument beginning to form on Southcote’s lips, and already there were tears pricking at Jonathan’s eyes from the effort of trying to restrain his coughs. Still, he focused on controlling them with all the discipline of the harshest aesthetic. 

“...enough to demand the fullest consideration I could bestow upon it.”

Since attempting to suppress his coughs by sheer force of will was clearly not working, Jonathan tried to meet the next paroxysm with a well-timed swallow. Unfortunately, this led to a veritable burning in his throat, as well as a split-second eruption, before Jonathan could clamp his mouth shut and reign in the sound once more.

The interruption turned a few heads, but did not capture the attention of Lord Southcote, who droned on as unflappably as ever. “He has stated to the House two grounds of deliberation…”

As Southcote continued on, oblivious to Jonathan’s private misery, Jonathan found himself increasingly willingly to trade not-insignificant fineries for a throat so robust as his. For here Jonathan was, throat dry as a tobacco leaf and struggling to keep quiet after scarcely having said a word all day, meanwhile Southcote could prattle for hours about nothing at all with a voice smooth as silk and strong as iron.

“But before I go into that large consideration, because I would omit nothing that can give the House satisfaction…”

With no end to either of his present miseries in sight, Jonathan resolved to grant himself a real, albeit controlled cough in the hopes that it would satisfy the infernal urge once and for all. The instant he did so, however, he realized it for the folly it was. Once the cough burst forth from his lungs it was louder and wetter than he had intended, and it took far longer to get under control than he had anticipated.

To finish it out, and insult him further, it culminated in a sneeze, which he pinched between his fingers. “Heh’PSHH!”

Brilliant, he thought, feeling suddenly exhausted and swelteringly hot beneath his collar. Now he would have to find a way to ward those off as well.

Jonathan was working out a way to swallow around his prickly throat without coughing yet again, when he felt something bump against his thigh. “You sound like you desperately need this,” Lord William Petre said lowly, his handkerchief extended across Jonathan’s lap.

It was only when Jonathan took the proffered cloth that he realized why William had offered it the way he had; stowed within its folds was a small flask, embossed with gold and ivory. Jonathan bit back his smile and took care to keep the flask covered, raising the handkerchief to his face as if to tend to his nose and carefully drinking from the hidden flask. Warm liquid trickled down his throat and offered him the first relief he had felt all day.  

“Thank you,” he murmured once he had finished. 

“If I have to listen to you and Southcote like this for another hour, I am in serious danger of stringing myself up by my hair ribbons and ending my misery.”

Jonathan almost scoffed before he thought better of it. “Your misery!”

William’s mouth was open to reply, when the speaker’s gavel shook the room like a minor earthquake. “Does the Baronet Petre have an objection to Lord Southcote?”

“None at all, sir,” William said mildly, with a courteous inclination of the head. Once Southcote had begun to speak again, he leaned closer to Jonathan and whispered, “That would require there being a point in the first place for me to object to.”

 Jonathan stifled a laugh, and the action was his undoing. In its place sprang forth a violent fit of coughs he was absolutely powerless to suppress; he could merely clutch William’s handkerchief to his mouth like a talisman and wait for the spasms to pass. He was dimly aware that Southcote had stopped speaking again, but far more pressing at the moment was the need to gulp in air at any available moment. Once the fit was finally beginning to settle, and he could draw in breath with shaky gasps, he felt his breath hitch, and he tiredly resigned himself to the inevitable. At least the handkerchief was already in place.

“HETCHOO! Hihh’TCHHH! Ihhh’TCHHH!”

The speaker regarded him with a disinterested mien. “Perhaps Lord Viscount Lindsay is too ill for the day’s proceedings?”

“I think I am indeed, sirs,” he said, sounding, if possible, as though his voice had been raked along hot coals. “If you will excuse me.”

“Lucky bastard,” William said as Jonathan slipped the flask back into his lap before standing to take his leave. “Maybe I should start coughing. How quickly can you catch a cold?”

#my writing #ocs: jonathan and sarah #though she's not really in this one #sicktember 2022 #sicktember day 26 #the world needs so much more historic snz fic #as someone who'd rather die than cough in a silent setting like class etc. #i've got a LOT of experience with this #snzfic

[newwwwusername]

Fic title : I Think You Have Pink Eye

@sicktember 2023 prompt : Pink Eye/Conjunctivitis

Rating : Teen & Up Audiences

Fandom : Heartbreak High (Netflix reboot)

Pairing : Quinni & Darren

Additional tags : Conjunctivitis, Illnesses, Friendship, Good Friend Darren Rivers, Canon Autistic Character

Word count : 209

#fanfiction #fanfic #fanfic challenge #fanfic prompts #heartbreak high #sicktember 2023 #sicktember day 26 #conjunctivitis #pink eye

[fanfictasia]

Sicktember Day 26

Alt. “I Could Really Use a Hug Right About Now”

Spoiler: This is an excerpt from The Chosen Twins

Anakin Skywalker

We make ourselves at home under the trees, and I curl up on the ground in between Aniya and Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon sits down on Aniya’s other side, to take first watch.

I could never mind the rain, even if it’s going to make my robes all dirty. It’s softly pattering on the trees now, and it’s relaxing.

Obi-Wan shifts his position, yanking his hood further over his head looking decidedly grumpy. Well, he’s clearly not happy with the situation at all. Considering that he is absolutely sick no matter how hard he tries to deny it, that’s no surprise. Though, I think he’d be grumpy either way.

Thunder crashes distantly in the background, and I reach out with one hand, to take Aniya’s. She squeezes it back. Maybe it’s been a long time since Tatooine, but I still don't like hearing that noise. It reminds me too much of… slave chips going off, of wondering if someone else I knew was going to be next.

Or of the times I actually saw someone blowing up. We got used to it, but that never stopped the fear, knowing one of us could be hurt, and that because of those slave chips, we could never escape. But I’m away from that and I’m free now, because of Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan.

And it’s also because of them that Aniya and I are free from the Sith too, even if I suddenly wonder for a fleeting moment what happened to Maul. I assume he died there on Mustafar, but I don’t… know. I don’t know why I’m thinking about it now when I haven’t thought of him in so long, anyway.

I reach over with my free hand, touching Obi-Wan’s hand just to gauge his mood. He doesn’t pull away, so I tug it closer, holding it against my chest and trying to ignore the distant sound of thunder.

And at least when I’m curled up between the two of them, knowing that Qui-Gon is close by, I can feel some measure of safety, and lightly touching Aniya with the Force, I can tell she feels likewise as I finally drift off to sleep.

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #fanfiction #sicktember #sicktember 2023 #sicktember day 26 #sicktember day twenty-six #day twenty-six #day 26 #anakin skywalker #anakin #obi-wan kenobi #obi-wan #anakin and obi-wan #original characters #anakin's twin #hurt/comfort #fluff #family #i could really use a hug right about now

[faofinn]

26. Tickle In The Throat

@sicktember

Fao had been a state when they’d found him. He’d crashed his bike on the way back from a job, losing control and spinning off of the road. 

Luckily, the ambulance crew who attended the scene recognised him (and weren’t phased by the gun on him) and took him straight home to Fred’s. They’d been focused on expanding their network in the last year or so, now they had Harrison back in England and their newly renovated basement treatment space. They had more scope to treat more serious injuries, negating the need for potential issues in public hospitals. 

Finn and Steve had worked hard to stabilise him, though he was in a bad way. A break to his right femur, broken ribs, a broken collarbone, dislocated shoulder and some significant abdominal bleeding. They’d intubated him when he’d arrived, as he’d started to decompensate. Neither of them had wanted to, but it was for the best. 

His internal injuries were significant, but they decided to simply transfuse and see if they were able to get away with non surgical management. Nobody wanted to get out of their depth with a abdominal surgery if they didn’t have to. Not when their only true gensurg was the one on the table. 

Neither felt confident with the femur, too, though they managed to reduce it decently with traction. They needed an ortho for that, and that meant waiting. 

One of Fao’s colleagues and friends (and a hook up, between Harrison and Ely) was doing more and more work for them, and agreed to come down quickly and sort it, provided he was deemed stable enough. 

Once she’d gotten over the shock, Ely had quickly stepped up to treat. She hated being useless more than she hated treating her boyfriend, and at least it kept her busy (and gave her an excuse to stay with him). She was happy enough with how stable he was, and Ollie was given the go ahead to operate. That went well, all things considered, and his abdominal bleeding thankfully resolved itself with TXA and additional blood products. 

They decided it was in his best interests to keep him sedated and ventilated whilst his body recovered, and review him in a day or so with a view to reducing the sedation and eventually extubation. 

Ely looked after him closely, as did everyone, but Sheila too. With Fred’s business so important, she’d let her own skills fall by the wayside, focusing on supporting her husband and running her own parts of the business itself. But as their own clinical network grew, she realised she wanted to be more useful to the boys. So she took a return to nursing course, and began to find her own skills again. She’d been dedicated to looking after Fao whilst he was out, in their own little critical care bay. 

He’d done well over the past day or so, and they’d decided his sedation could be reduced and they could look at extubating. They took it slowly, of course, Harrison in charge with Steve at work and Ely too emotionally overwhelmed to treat properly. Sheila was at his side, as she’d been for most of it. She hated to leave him, focused on making sure he was comfortable and properly looked after. 

Fao started to become aware of something after a while, but the drugs were too thick to fight through. Eventually it got easier and easier, and he was aware of pain, and the tube in his throat. Then he realised he couldn’t breathe, he had no control over it. His eyes blinked open and he reached up, clumsy and uncoordinated, trying to get at the tube. 

Sheila stroked through Fao's hair as they reduced the sedation, though that wasn't anything new. She hadn't left the basement since he'd been hurt, sleeping downstairs and praying he'd be okay. 

When he started to stir, growing more agitated, she kept murmuring to him, telling him to just relax, promising him he was okay. 

"Hey, hey. No, leave that." She was quick to hold his hands down, lacing her fingers through his. "It's okay, Fao. Just relax, you can breathe with it. You can, I promise."

Weakly he fought against her, frowning. His eyes flicked around the room, struggling to focus. The panic rose as he couldn’t free his hands, and he twisted to try and get away. 

"Hey. Fao, please. Just listen, okay? Focus on me. You're okay. Just relax." She said softly, cursing Harrison quietly. Of course Fao would come to while he was at the toilet. 

He whined, the way he moved just causing a flare of pain. Sheila’s voice finally got through to him, though, and he settled a little. It was still hard to breathe, his teeth catching against the tube. 

"Careful, careful, sweetheart. You're just fine, I promise. We're looking after you. Hars is gonna be just a second."

He retched against the tube a little, fighting it. He wanted it gone, he couldn’t just relax, despite what Sheila was telling him. Everything felt wrong, his body crying out. 

"I know, it’s awful. You're doing amazing. Just relax." She turned as Harrison appeared. "About time."

"Ah, shit. He’s awake?" Harrison hurried over, grabbing some gloves and quickly putting them on. "Fao? Hey, Wolfie. Back with us?"

Fao was convinced he was dying. Everything hurt, burned, and he struggled to get his hand free from Sheila’s, trying again to dislodge the tube. He heard Harrison’s voice, but it didn’t register with him, too panicked. 

"You ready to extubate?" He asked Sheila, swapping his hands for hers. 

"Let me grab gloves." She murmured, quickly turning away. "Right. Let's get it out, he's just getting himself worked up."

"Fao? Fao. Can you look at me? Come on, you can do it, just relax. Can you squeeze my hands?"

Fao’s gaze settled on Harrison, blurred and unfocused. He struggled, but managed, and somehow through the haze of the drugs he realised who it was. Hars. He wouldn’t hurt him, right? He gripped his hands tightly, fear in his eyes. 

"That's perfect, Wolfie. You're doing so well. I need you to listen, okay? When I say, you need to try and blow your air out, okay?"

It took him a little while to process, but eventually he managed to nod, his body slow and unresponsive. 

Harrison glanced over to Sheila, happy she was set up too. He nodded to himself, told Fao to take a deep breath out, and extubated him. 

Fao just about managed to breathe out, retching as Harrison pulled the tube. He rubbed at his face, frowning and coughing, trying to adjust to breathing without it. 

Sheila slipped the mask over his face, apologising as she did so. She stroked his cheek, relieved he was slightly more with it.

His chest heaved, pain pulling at his attention now. He frowned, but leaned into Sheila’s touch. 

"There you go, sweetheart. You've done so well."

"Fao? How are you feeling?" Harrison spoke up, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

Fao cleared his throat, struggling. “Pain?” He rasped. 

"You're in pain? Where? Chest?"

He nodded. His chest, but everywhere, too. He couldn’t place it, overwhelmed. 

"That's okay. Sheila? Thanks. Do you know where you are?" He asked softly as she grabbed meds. 

He looked around. It looked like any old hospital sideroom, but if Harrison and Sheila were there, maybe he was at home. “‘ome?” He asked after a long while. 

"Yeah, you're in the basement." Harrison said gently. "Can you remember what happened?"

Something must have happened, that’s why it hurt so much, but Fao didn’t remember anything. He shook his head, frowning. 

"Alright, that's okay. Can you squeeze my hands for me? Both of them?"

Fao did as he was told, squeezing Harrison’s hands in his own. 

"Thank you. You're doing amazing. Can you feel me touching here?" He continued his assessment, trying to gauge any deficits.

Fao did the best he could, following Harrison’s instructions and answering his questions. Despite the pain, it was proving difficult to stay awake, his eyes drifting shut without meaning to. With the arm that hurt less, he rubbed at his face, groaning. 

"I'll stop being an arse in a second, promise. I just want to check what damage you've done."

"I've got meds. Sorry it took so long." Sheila murmured. "You look exhausted, Fao."

He nodded. “Am.”

"You've been napping for ages Fao, you shouldn't be tired." Harrison teased.

Fao grumbled, but watched Sheila with a tired kind of curiosity as she gave his meds. He was so tired, why wouldn’t Harrison leave him alone to sleep? He’d answer his questions later.

With Sheila finished with meditation, Harrison gave up. Fao needed his rest, and he was happy enough there were no neurological or physical deficits they hadn't already known about. He leaned forward to press a kiss to Fao's forehead, running a hand through his hair.

"Get some rest, Wolfie."

Fao made a happy noise. The meds had already started to work, making him even more tired. The pain was harder to focus on now, and he soon fell asleep. 

Sheila refused to leave again, playing with his hair, stroking his cheek. She was glad he'd settled, and that the tube was removed. It wasn't nice to see, not in the slightest, but she knew it was for the best. 

"Can I get you anything?" Harrison asked, making sure everything was written down. 

"No thanks. I'll wait until he's awake again."

"I'd never have guessed." He rested a hand on her shoulder. "Just remember, you need to take care of yourself too."

Fao slept for a long while, stable and his monitors happy enough. The meds certainly helped to keep him comfortable, though he eventually woke again. Coughing, he struggled to clear his throat, which was raw and scratchy. That made him whine, his lips chapped and dry, too.

Sheila jumped as he woke coughing, immediately in overdrive. She squeezed his hand encouragingly, the other stroking his cheek.

"Fao? What's wrong?"

He cleared his throat again, frowning. “Sore throat.”

"Oh, sweetheart. Of course it is. Let me get you some water."

He couldn’t get rid of the stupid tickle in his throat. “Throat sweet?” He asked, his voice rough. 

"Just water for now." She said softly, passing him the cup. She didn't let go, though, holding on to guide his hands as he drank. "Little sips."

He took the cup in shaky hands, wincing in pain. He appreciated Sheila’s help, sipping the water slowly. It helped to soothe a little, but didn’t fix it. “Why no sweet?” He asked, fumbling a little over the words. It was hard, trying to use his brain. 

"I want you more awake first." She told him. "The last thing we need is you to choke after all our hard work."

He frowned. “Wouldn’t choke.”

"When you're more awake."

“Hurts.”

"Your throat?"

He nodded, sipping his water again. “Yeah. Fix it?”

"I wish I could fix everything, sweetheart. Hopefully your sips will help, yeah?"

His memory was hazy, and he coughed again, turning his head away as he tried to clear his throat. “Why does it hurt? Why so scratchy?”

"You came off your bike, sweetheart. Had an accident. You got brought back here, Finn…Finn had to intubate you. You had some internal bleeding, but that's settled down, and you've broken your femur. Ollie's been in and fixed it up for you."

He frowned, clearing his throat. If he’d been tubed, that definitely explained his throat, and coming off his bike explained the pain. He vaguely remembered Harrison that morning, and panic. Had they just pulled the tube? Maybe. That explained a lot. “Oh.”

"You're recovering now, that's the main thing. You just need to rest and we'll do all we can for you." She told him, patting his hand.

#sicktember 2022 #sicktember day 26 #whump writing #whump prompts #whump #extubation #faolan blackwood #finn daniels #sheila daniels #harrison #crime #motorcyle accident #motorbike accident #broken femur #broken ribs #broken collarbone #internal bleeding #ventilated #intubation #intubated #sheila's return to nursing #hars is a good dr #steve cunningham #the wolf and the ghost #elyana lozier #ollie #tickle in the throat #bless fao honestly #this was one of my (shiv) favourite's #illegal crime medical basement

[fletcherwilbury]

@sicktember Day 26: Tickle in the Throat

Warning for Illness, self-neglect, coughing, medication, blood, and hospital mention.

#sicktember #sicktember 2022 #sicktember day 26 #tickle in the throat #tmnt #tmnt 2012 #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2012 casey jones #tmnt 2012 donnie #jonatello #Illness #self-neglect #coughing #medication #blood #hospital mention #fanfiction #archive of our own

[lhaagain]

@sicktember Post 26 - Tickle in the Throat

Set during S1

“If you wouldn’t mind…” Sister Julienne broke off and turned to the side to cough dryly into her hand. “Wouldn’t mind,” she started again, her voice sounding even more alien than it had been seconds before.

“Sister Julienne,” Chummy said, holding her hand up to try and get her to stop. “You clearly can’t be answering the phone when you sound like that. Your poor throat!”

“I’m fine really,” she protested. “Other than…” she gestured at her throat.

Read more on AO3

#sicktember 2022 #sicktember day 26 #sickfic #fanfic #call the midwife #sister julienne #chummy #sister evangelina #sj: I'm sure it's just allergies #nonnatus house leaking like a seive #caretaking #family feels

[nywcgirl]

#Sicktember 2022 #Macgyver 2016 #day 26 #thickle in throat #sickfic

[fergusandmarsali]

Unfortunate Timing by @fergusandmarsali​

Fergus should have known better.

He should have known from the moment he woke up that morning with a tickle in his throat that his day was destined to only get worse.

He just hadn't realised it would end with him in police custody.

- OR -

Fergus attempts to show off his pickpocketing skills, an unimpressed Jamie gets called down to the police station and Brianna accidentally lets slip a previously well kept secret.

Now available on AO3

Written for @sicktember​: Tickle in the Throat (Day 26)  

#outlander #sicktember 2022 #day 26 #posted 1328 days late #tickle in the throat #modern day au #one-shot #fergus fraser #jamie fraser #claire fraser #faith fraser #brianna fraser #this is rather short for me #and it might well suck #but im gonna post it anyway #you're welcome #(queue maui from moana)

[whumpcember]

Introducing Whumpcember 2022!

Everyone's heard of Whumptober or Febuwhump, Angstpril or Sicktember, but get ready for Whumpcember! Whumpcember is pretty much exactly like Whumptober or Febuwhump, except in December.

Whumpcember is born out of a love of monthly whump challenges but with zero time to complete them. I also want to complete these challenges, but never have the time! So I came to realize that, from an American perspective, December is the month I get the most time off. So, I decided to create this event for people who have too much time in December, but so little across the other 12 months. Of course, this is most definitely an American experience and not universal; so if you don't have free time during December it is still perfectly alright to participate! This event was just made to cure my December boredom, and anyone else's.

Now after that ramble, onto the actual rules:

Prompts should be answered with whump as the main focus (i'll let angst slide though, since it's similar enough to whump)

Fanfic! Gif! Text post! Fanart! Fan video! Any piece of media that you can possibly make that has whump counts!

You can use the prompts any time! Don't feel the need to rush

Though, prompts answered during December will most likely be reblogged

Post anywhere! AO3, Wattapad, Tumblr, or even Fanfic.Net! So as long as you make a Tumblr post with a link to the answered prompt it may be reblogged.

When posting onto Tumblr you can either @/ the blog or tag with #whumpcember2022 and the day's tag, such as #whumpcember2022 day1

Don't forget to add any warnings necessary, such as NSFW or sexual content

At the end of the month a masterpost will go out to all participants and a badge you can save stating that you are either a participant or completionist. In order to be on the masterpost though, you will have to fill out a google form at the end of month; don't worry it'll take two minutes!

I hope everyone has a fun time during the event! And if you have any questions shoot me an ask through the ask box!

(this is also my first year running this event, expect a hiccup or two)

Written Prompt List Below

-Main Prompts-

Day 1: Hypothermia

Day 2: Avalanche

Day 3: Storm

Day 4: Shortness of Breath

Day 5: “I hate you!”

Day 6: Separated

Day 7: Scars

Day 8: Faked Death

Day 9: Sacrifice

Day 10: “I won’t leave you”

Day 11: Clothing That Doesn’t Fit

Day 12: Broken Bone

Day 13: Fear of the Unknown

Day 14: Shaking

Day 15: “You’re A Monster”

Day 16: Bad Luck

Day 17: Icy Deep

Day 18: Betrayal

Day 19: Electricity

Day 20: “It’s Too Late”

Day 21: Self-Hate

Day 22: Closing In

Day 23: Stumbling

Day 24: Anticipation

Day 25: “Shouldn’t You Be Happy?”

Day 26: Free Falling

Day 27: Crash Landing

Day 28: Explosion

Day 29: Failure

Day 30: The End Is Nigh

Day 31: Slow Healing

-Alts-

Alt 1. Nightmares

Alt 2. Desperation

Alt 3. Deal With The Devil

Alt 4. Accidental Injury

Alt 5. “I Won’t Help You”

Alt 6. Revenge

Alt 7. Lashing Out

Alt 8. Secrets

Alt 9. On The Run

Alt 10. “I Would Die For You”

#whumpcember2022 #whumpcember2022 prompt list #whumpcember #whump #prompts

[woso-fan13]

Sicktember 2023: 26 (Chelsea)

Forehead Kisses

“Mags?” Pernille shouts from the kitchen, “one of the trainers just texted, we have to get back to the stadium.”

A confused Magda walks in part way through, “why? I thought we were done for the day.”

“We are,” Pernille confirms, “apparently Y/N got sick during her recovery, we need to go pick her up.”

Magda mutters under her breath, likely something that shouldn’t be translated before heading towards the front door. She grabs her keys off of the hook, turning around to ensure that Pernille is directly behind her. The two hurry to the car and head towards the stadium. 

—-

“Sunshine,” Pernille continues to try and get your attention through the closed door, “can you please let us in? It’s just me and Magda, everyone else left. Can you unlock the door so we can help you?”

Silence follows for almost a minute before the click of the lock disengaging can be heard. Both women sigh slightly in relief, maybe you would be cooperative. 

Opening the door, their hearts break at the pitiful sight that you have become. You’re slouched against the wall, swaying somewhat as you try to remain upright. Pernille rushes towards you, sinking down beside you and pulling you under her arm. You relax into her. 

Magda isn’t far behind, crouching down in front of you and trying to place her hand on your forehead. You wiggle away slightly, further into Pernille. Magda goes to protest, but she can’t find it in herself to argue with a sick kid. 

You feel Pernille hug you slightly tighter, leaning down and pressing her lips to your forehead. You know that she was checking your temperature, but it seemed more agreeable than a whole hand. 

—-

The two women manage to get you bundled up and tucked into the car. After a longer-than-usual car ride with multiple breaks for you to vomit on the side of the road, the three of you eventually make it to their house. You don’t even need to ask to know that you’ll be required to stay there until you’ve fully recovered. 

You end up settled on the couch, a thin blanket thrown over you after you begged for it. You’re propped against the cushions, an old football match playing on the tv as your glazed eyes dazedly follow it. Occasionally, one of the women would walk behind the sofa and plant a kiss to your forehead- subtly checking your temperature- before forcing some fluids into you. As awful as you felt, you did admit to enjoying the special treatment. 

#woso imagine #womens soccer #woso imagines #woso x reader #reader insert #woso #woso soccer #woso fanfics #woso community #chelsea fc #magdalena eriksson #pernille harder

[darkstar225]

@woso-fan13 Updated Masterlist

Updated: 04 January 2024

I have no clue why I did this, I just love this writer sm and wish I could check everything in one place since I keep re-reading the fics lol

PS: If the writer wants me to delete the post and send it to you so you'll post it, feel free to message me! I just love the fics and felt like doing this :D

It didn't fit everything so check out @woso-fan13 for the other masterlist with the rest S2

Sicktember 2023

Number 1: Hopelessly Bad at Self-Care

Number 2: Quest For A Cure

Number 3: “What Happened To Your Phenomenal Immune System, Huh?”

Number 4: Hiding an Illness

Number 5: Preventative Measures (Not Taken)

Number 6: Sick & Injured

Number 7: “You’re A Jerk When You’re Sick”

Number 8: Persistent Fever

Number 9: White Coat Syndrome

Number 10: “The Only Place We’re Going Is To The Pharmacy”

Number 11: Beginner’s Guide To Faking Sick

Number 12: Home Remedy/Old Wives Tale

Number 13: Anxious Stomach

Number 14: “I shouldn’t be worried about you, but for some reason I am.”

Number 15: Sick in an Inconvenient Place

Number 16: Consulting the Internet/Web MD

Number 17: Magical Remedy/ Healing Potion

Number 18: “Wear Your Coat, You’ll Catch a Cold”

Number 19: Curled Up With a Pet

Number 20: Cramping Pain

Number 21: “But if you stay, you’ll get sick too.”

Number 22: Terms of Endearment/Nicknames

Number 23: Coughing Fit

Number 24: “Did you just sneeze?”

Number 25: Confused/Disoriented

Number 26: Forehead Kisses

Number 27: Uncooperative Patient

Number 28: “I should have stayed home”

Number 29: Side Effects/Adverse Reaction

Number 30: Patient 0

WHUMPTOBER 2023

Number 1: “But now this room is spinning while I’m trying just to fill in all the gaps.”

Number 2: “I’ll call out your name, but you won’t call back.”

Number 3: “Like crying out in empty rooms; with no-one there except the moon.”

Number 4: “I see the danger, It’s written there in your eyes.”

Number 5: “You better pray I don’t get up this time around.”

Number 6: “Do or die, you’ll never make me; Because the world will never take my heart.”

Number 7: “I paced around for hours on empty; I jumped at the slightest of sounds.”

Number 8: “I’ve got soul, but I’m not a soldier.”

Number 9: “Learning everything ain’t what it seems, that’s the thing about these days.”

Number 10: “Can’t you see that you’re lost without me?”

Number 11: “All the lights going dark and my hope’s destroyed.”

Number 12: “I haven’t slept in days but who’s counting?”

Number 13: “It comes and goes like the strength in your bones.”

Number 14: “Feed me poison, fill me ‘till I drown.”

Number 15: “I don’t need you to help me, I can handle things myself.”

Number 16: “Would you lie with me and just forget the world?”

Number 17: “You’re the lump in my throat and the knot in my chest.”

Number 18: “I tend to deflect when I’m feeling threatened.”

Number 19: “I’ll take one final step, all you have to do is make me.”

Number 20: “People don’t change people, time does.”

Number 21: “See the chains around my feet.”

Number 22: “They never saw us coming, ‘til they hit the floor.

Number 23: “It’s gonna get me by the end of the night.”

Number 24: “I’ve got a head full of chemicals; mouth full of ridicule.”

Number 25: “You’re not delivering a perfect body to the grave.”

Number 26: “Sometimes I get so tired; I don’t even know myself.”

Number 27: “You drew stars around my scars; But now I’m bleeding.”

Number 28: “We might not make it to the morning; so go on and tell me now.”

Number 29: “I only sink deeper the deeper I think.”

Number 30: “It’s okay, just to say, ‘I’m not okay’.”

Number 31: “I thought that I was getting better.”

Comfortember 2023

Safe

Sweater Weather

Leaves Changing

Warmth

Treehouse

Notes

Sick/Illness

Grief/Mourning

Aftermath

Sadness

Comfort Show/Movie

Dreams

Baking

Late Night Phone Calls

Plushies

Coffee/Tea Break

Heirloom

Cuddles

Loved Ones

Shopping

Relapse

Cry

Anxiety

Blankets

Rain

Friends

Soup

Flashbacks

Sleepover

The New Normal

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt players #uswnt imagines #uswnt woso #uswnt reader #woso x reader #reader insert #x reader #woso imagine #woso soccer #womens soccer #woso #masterlist

[sicktember]

While waiting for the Sicktember 2024, June 15th reveal, check out these past prompts and collections for inspiration!

Sicktember 2023 - 2021 Past Prompts and Collections

💚2023 💚

[AO3 Collection]

Prompts List ⬇

1. Hopelessly Bad at Self-Care

2. Quest for a Cure

3. “What happened to your phenomenal immune system, huh?”

4. Hiding an Illness

5. Preventative Measures (Not Taken)

6. Sick and Injured

7. “You’re a Jerk When You’re Sick”

8. Persistent Fever

9. White Coat Syndrome

10. “The only place we’re going is to the pharmacy”

11. Beginner’s Guide to Faking Sick

12. Old Wives Tale

13. Anxious Stomach

14. ‘‘I shouldn’t be worried about you, but for some reason I am’’

15. Sick in an Inconvenient Place

16. Consulting the Internet/Web MD

17. Magical Remedy/Healing Potion

18. “Wear Your Coat, You’ll Catch a Cold”

19. Curled Up With a Pet

20. Cramping Pain

21. “But if you stay, you’ll get sick too”

22. Terms of Endearment/Nicknames

23. Coughing Fit

24. “Did you just sneeze?”

25. Confused/Disoriented

26. Pink Eye/Conjunctivitis

27. Uncooperative Patient

28. “I should have stayed home”

29. Side Effects/Adverse Reaction

30. Patient 0

2023 Alternate Prompts

Alt. 1.“I Could Really Use a Hug Right About Now”

Alt. 2. Fuzzy Socks

Alt. 3. Pounding Headache

Alt. 4. Forehead Kisses

Alt. 5. “I’m so sorry”

💚2022💚

[AO3 Collection]

Prompt List ⬇

1. ‘Do You Know How To Take Care of a Sick Person?’

2.  Homesick

3.  Painkillers

4.  Hangover

5.  'Great. Now I Have Your Germs All Over Me.’

6.  Sick on vacation

7.  A cry for attention

8.  Intense coddling

9.  Home remedy

10. Excessive use of tissues/ ‘Blow Your Nose’

11. Emergency Room/ Ambulance

12. Psychogenic Fever/Stress Induced Illness

13. Seasonal/Pet Allergies

14. ‘I Might Be A Teeny Tiny Bit Sick, But It’s Fine.’' 

15. Frostbite/Sunburn

16. Care Package

17. Syncope/Fainting

18. Nausea/Upset Stomach

19. Whining/Crying 

20.  Cold Sweat

21. ‘Does this look infected to you?’

22. Common Cold/Flu

23. Tepid Bath

24. ‘I Need You To Pull Over!’

25. Acid Reflux/Heartburn

26. Tickle in the Throat

27. Sleepless Night/s

28. Chronic Illness

29. Lethargy/Exhaustion

30. ‘Get Back in Bed!’ 

2022 Alternate Prompts:

Alt. 1. Soft Pajamas

Alt. 2. Vapor Rub

Alt. 3. Cuddling on the Couch

Alt. 4. Taking a Sick Day

Alt. 5. ‘Can You Be Brave For Me?’

💚2021💚

[AO3 Collection]

Prompt List ⬇

1. Fever

2. Persistent Cough/Sniffling.

3. Chicken Pox/Rash 

4. Headache/Migraine

5. Comfort Item (Plush/Blanket)

6. Nebulizer

7. Sneaky Temperature Check

8. Contagious

9. I’m Not Sick

10. Medicine/Injection

11. Bed Rest

12. Faking it

13. Appendicitis

14. Aches and Pains

15. Quarantine 

16. Hot Water Bottle

17. Ginger Ale and Crackers

18. Fever Dream/Hysteria

19. Addiction

20. Doctor’s Visit/Check Up

21. Unlikely Caregiver

22. Toothache

23. Ear Infection

24. Sneezing

25. Sick at School/Work

26. Strep Throat/Laryngitis

27. Blankets

28. Missing Out 

29. Motion Sickness

30. Food poisoning/Allergy

2021 Alternative Prompts:

Alt. 1:  Warm Soup

Alt. 2:  Too Many Layers

Alt. 3:  Vitamin C

Alt. 4:  Stay

Alt. 5:  Asleep on the Couch

#sicktember #past prompts #2023-2021 prompts #archived prompts #ao3 collections #writing prompts #sickfic prompts #writing event #sick characters #sick character #whump #fanfiction #fan art #fan comic #crossover #orignial character #orignial art #original works #dr who #tardis

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

Sicktember #26

Prompt: Pinkeye/Conjuntivitis ALL ALTS (Alt 1. “I Could Really Use a Hug Right About Now”//Alt 2. Fuzzy Socks//Alt 3. Pounding Headache//Alt 4. Forehead Kisses//Alt 5. “I’m so sorry”)

Fandom/OCs: OCs Shane and Molly (Doctor Nurse ‘verse?)

Words: 1180

Sicknario inspo: "Something happen at work?" from this post and "You look… I know…" from this post.

Author’s comments/background: Since I only had one space for an Alternate prompt this year, and they were all cute, I made it a mini challenge to use them all, and who better to do that for than Shane and Molly? I was pretty happy with the result, and this ended up being another piece that I was really looking forward to writing. I actually saved it for last as a reward for finishing the challenge. Have the usual married-people-who-are-crazy-about-each-other shenanigans. (Also some of the ending dialogue was shamelessly stolen from the D/ick Van D/yke show and I'm not sorry.)

Set the day after the events of “Without You” (read it here), which takes place within the first year of their marriage. 

~~~***~~~

Molly was deep in thought about what Shane might like for dinner, so when she turned to find him walking through the door a full three hours earlier than usual, at first she thought she was imagining it. Their eyes met and, probably because she looked so shocked, he attempted a smile to put her at ease, but the obvious sickliness of him made her worry all the more instead.

"Shane! You're home early. Did something happen at work?"

"Hihh– hihhggIHHTCHHOO! IHHXXCHOO!... Ugh…"

"...Oh. I see. Yeah, I can definitely see. Wow, you look–"

“I know,” Shane mumbled, swallowing thickly as he massaged his temple. “I know… HihhxxEHHPTchuhh!! Oh my god," he groaned, pressing his hand even harder to his head. "I have had the worst pounding, splitting headache all day and the sneezing is NOT helping…." 

"Aww, honey… why don't you sit down and take it easy for a while?"

"I will, but first… I know I'm contagious and everything but… I could really use a hug right about now." He dropped his bag and opened his arms imploringly. 

"Oh, you poor thing, of course you can have a hug!" She hurried into his arms, squeezing him as tightly as she could, and he squeezed her back until her ribs cracked, his face buried against her neck.

"I had the most godawful day," he mumbled, sounding almost on the verge of tears. "I felt like shit and the staff were all crabby and being petty and the schedule was screwed up again and the patients were horrible. I just need to be home with you."

"My poor baby," she said, kissing his temple and neck and shoulder and every other bit of him that she could reach. Then she held on and squeezed tight, just the way he liked. They hugged for a long time.

"Are you cold, hon?" Molly asked after several minutes. She already knew the answer to that question since she could feel him shivering, but he was sagging most of his weight on her, and her hugging muscles were starting to get tired. 

"Freezing," he murmured into her neck.

"Here, let's go sit down and wrap you up. You look exhausted."

"I'm that too," he agreed, letting himself be led to the couch. Molly quickly tucked a blanket around him, dress shirt and all, and he nestled into the cushions with a sniffling sigh. She perched right beside him. 

"Do you think you have a fever?"

"I really don't know. This cold wasn't so bad before today. I have no idea."

Molly leaned forward, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead. It was hardly there a second when Shane twitched violently, bending forward in a half-stifled sneeze that clearly snuck up on him:

"Hihhgg-KXXT! XXTchhoo!!"

Molly was thoroughly caught in the spray. She carefully kept her expression neutral so as not to make him feel any worse as she turned away from his horrified look to wipe off the mist from her cheek and hand.

"Ohmygod, Mol… I am so sorry… I can't believe that just happened…." 

Shane continued to stammer apologetically as Molly turned to face him again, stopping him with a gentle squeeze of his leg. "It's okay, love, really. I know you didn't mean to. It happens. No big deal. Now, let's try that again."

Shane fell silent, though his apologetic expression lingered, as Molly again reached out to feel his face. "You didn't sneeze on any patients today though, did you?" she asked, trying to lighten the mood with gentle teasing.

"No, thank god. That's about the only thing that didn't go wrong today."

"Well that's good," she said, pulling away. "And you're definitely warm. Feels like a fever to me."

"That tracks, to be honest"

"With what?"

"Everything, I guess. How crappy I feel, mainly. The rest of this awful day."

"My poor Shane," she groaned, going in for another hug. "I hate seeing you like this. I'm supposed to be the one that does all the complaining, not you."

"Sorry. But I was overdue for a turn," he mumbled into her chest.

"I dunno about all that. But we'll get you fixed up and back to normal either way." She released him, meeting his eyes again. "You pick the order of operations tonight. What do you want first, shower, dinner, blanket cuddles, or bed?"

A sleepy smile spread across Shane's face. "All the choices are too good. You pick. You're the boss tonight."

"You're either very brave or very sick to say such things, my love. But your wish is my command. We'll go in the order I listed them, I think. I can't stand to see my human furnace shivering so hard, so we'll start with a hot shower, and you can even have the brand new fuzzy socks you just bought me, since I know you can't resist fuzzy socks when you're sick."

Shane was grinning now. "As long as you shower with me. There's always a risk of syncope with a fever, you know. You can never be too careful, especially in the bathroom."

"Right you are. You read my mind. Don't you worry, I'll be keeping a close eye on you. Everyone knows doctors make the worst patients." 

"Whatever you think is best, nurse," he said with a pathetic sniffle.

~~~

The couple settled into the rhythm of their evening routine, though they took it especially easy for Shane's sake and, true to her word, Molly hardly left his side. Shane was clingy and a little needy when he wasn't feeling well, but as long as she stayed within reach, he was in truth a very easy patient. 

A few hours later found them curled up on the couch with takeout soup and salad for an early dinner, watching Shane's favorite, the Jurassic Park trilogy. They were lightly reclining, Shane leaning partially against Molly with a tissue box under his arm as she toyed with his blond curls. When she thought he was distracted, she leaned over to press her lips to his forehead.

Shane was sharp, though, and eyed her with a curious look. "Was that for affection or were you checking my temperature again?"

"Sick person forehead kisses are always both, you should know that. Your eyes are looking funny, so I was seeing if it was worth it to get up and get you medicine or not."

"I'm okay. You don't need to do that."

"Hey, I warned you that I'd be keeping an eye on you. This is part of the package, mister."

"I know, I know," he chuckled, scrubbing at his nose. "But I don't want you to get up. I'm too comfortable, and I haven't been able to say that since you left for your trip. You're not allowed to move. Sick person orders."

"Aye aye, sir." Molly resumed playing with his hair, and Shane sighed in contentment. 

"What would I do without you?" he murmured, echoing back to the day before.

"I promise you'll never have to find out as long as I'm living," she whispered back, pulling him closer against her.

#sicktember 2023 #skt 2023 #alt prompts #shmolly ocs

[vonpharma]

Fandom: 逆転裁判 | Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Ayasato Mayoi | Maya Fey/Karuma Mei | Franziska von Karma Characters: Karuma Mei | Franziska von Karma, Ayasato Mayoi | Maya Fey Additional Tags: Sickfic, Hurt/Comfort, Sicktember, sicktember 2023, Established Relationship, Sick Franziska von Karma, takes place just whenever after the OG trilogy, No Sequel Trilogy Spoilers, Mentioned Manfred von Karma, Manfred von Karma NOT being an asshole, Childhood Memories, No Beta - Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth Chooses Death, i just waxed poetic about manfred for most of this

Summary:

Maya Fey's chief duty as a spirit medium is to channel the dead, to jumpstart hearts that stopped beating long, long ago. Sometimes, she can even do this without calling upon those phantoms at all.

Written for @sicktember 2023 Day 26 alternate prompt: Forehead Kisses

[READ ON AO3!]

#franmaya #franziska von karma #maya fey #ace attorney #pwaa #aa #sicktember #sicktember 2023 #my writing

[whumpdom]

Andersen Men

Sicktember Day 3: “What happened to your phenomenal immune system, huh?”

Description: James is sick but Trent needs someone to keep him together. 

Trent is 26 James is 25. TW for content; mentions of child abuse, assault, and panic attacks.

The drive back to his apartment is normally one of James’s favorite parts of his day. He turns up the radio and can drown out all the chaos in his mind. Today, however, the drive is proving tedious at best. There’s a deep-seated exhaustion sitting in his bones and the beginning of a headache creeping in. James rolls his muscular shoulders and tries to blink away the fatigue; the day isn’t over yet. Before he can go home and pass out in his bed, he needs to stop by Trent’s place and check up on him. Daisy and Aiden are out of town on some kind of “writing retreat”, and James had promised to check up on the young lawyer. 

James pulls up outside of the rundown apartment building that Trent lives in and parks his truck. As he steps out, he winces when the throbbing in his head picks up slightly. He shrugs it off and walks towards the stairs. His father’s voice echoes in his head.

“Andersen men don’t take sick days, son”

The sentiment has held true for the most part, James can’t recall a single time his father missed work or church because of illness ,and James has worked through nearly every sickness and injury unless he couldn’t physically get out of bed. Save for the time he got a concussion during a training exercise, and was ordered to be on bed rest, James has never taken a sick day. He has on multiple occasions boasted about his ‘Immune system of steel’, something that is evidently failing him at the moment. 

When James gets to the front door of Trent’s apartment, he pauses to clear his throat, before knocking. He can hear Trent on the other side of the door, pacing and muttering, it’s not a good sign. After a few moments, Trent opens the door and James’s concern immediately increases. His friend looks to be on the verge of a full blown breakdown. His eyes are blown wide and it’s clear he’s been crying. Trent’s lower lip is raw and slightly bloody from when he’s been chewing it. There’s some dried blood on his knuckles and James has no doubt he’ll find a new dent in one of the apartment walls. 

“Hey man, what happened?”

James' voice is soft and cautious as he walks into the living room. Trent starts pacing again, looking like a caged animal. His shoulders are shaking and his breathing is bordered on hyperventilating. Trent doesn’t respond to James' question at first. James waits patiently, he knows how easily Trent can be startled when he’s like this. After a few minutes, Trent drops down on the couch and hunches over. He sucks in a shaky breath and then looks up at James with red-rimmed eyes. 

“I, h-he was t-there. At the office today, Wilton Blakely.” Trent whispers. The name is unfamiliar to James, but it clearly holds some significance with Trent. “He c-came up to me and t-t-touched me. Kept going on about how great m-my f-father was.”James sits down on the couch a few inches from Trent and places a hand on his friend's knee to help ground him. 

Trent chokes back a sob and swallows thickly. His eyes begin to dart around the room. James can sense the impending panic attack and he squeezes Trent’s knee firmly. “Did he hurt you?”James asks carefully. Trent shakes his head and leans into James ever so slightly. He sucks in an unsteady breath before speaking, his voice barely a whisper.

“W-when I was eight, my parents had some dinner party and I spilled some water on him.” Trent flinches suddenly, he can still feel the sting of the first slap and his cheek even after all these years. “I-I-I-I d-didn’t m-mean to, but it d-didn’t matter.”. Trent doesn’t have to finish the rest of the story for James to know what happened. He is well aware of the torment Trent faced at the hand of his ‘parents’ and it makes James feel sick everytime he thinks about it. James instinctively pulls his friend closer and rubs Trent’s back to calm him down. 

“I probably deserved it anyway.” Trent says with a hollow laugh.

James shakes his head and hugs Trent. “You didn’t deserve it, any of it. What they did to you was horrible, but they can’t hurt you anymore. Alright?”James states firmly. Trent nods and slumps against James.

“Why don’t you shower and I’ll order some food?” James offers when Trent pulls away. Trent nods and stands up, he still looks rough and James has a feeling it’s going to be a long night. 

While Trent showers, James orders food. He hasn’t eaten since breakfast, which is probably why his head and stomach hurt, and Trent can’t take his meds on an empty stomach. Italian food seems like a safe bet, so James orders some pasta dishes to be delivered and flips through the TV channels until he finds something neutral to watch. He settles on Parks and Recreation, which seems like a safe bet. 

The food arrives shortly after Trent emerges from the shower and the two men settle on the couch and eat in relative silence. James isn’t exactly hungry, but he eats anyway hoping it will help his headache go away. Trent picks at his food, absentmindedly watching the show and occasionally cracking a shy smile at the jokes. When Trent has eaten most of his dinner, James heads to the kitchen to grab Trent’s anxiety and insomnia medication along with some aspirin for himself. James hands Trent his pills along with a bottle of water and watches as his friend swallows. Trents eyes are still puffy and far-away but he seems to be doing better. James clears away the food and tries to ignore the overly-full sensation in his belly. He really hadn’t eaten that much, especially considering his normal appetite, but evidently his stomach disagrees.

“T-thank you.” Trent mumbles when James walks back into the living room. James smiles and squeezes his shoulder,”No problem man.”, he replies. 

They watch a few more episodes; Trent relaxes more and more as the medication takes effect. James, on the other hand, grows ever more uncomfortable. Dinner is sitting like a rock in his stomach, refusing to digest. Occasionally he can feel the food churning sickly and his belly rumbles quietly, clearly displeased with his choice to eat. Apparently what James felt earlier was not hunger, but rather the beginning of a stomach bug. James places a hand on his midsection and rubs at it discreetly. He can feel a slight bloat to his abdomen along with the queasy ache. Now that his brain isn’t focused on taking care of a panicked Trent, James realizes just how terrible he feels. A wet burp rumbles up his throat and he muffles it in his fist. 

Trent doesn’t seem to notice his friend's condition, or if he does he doesn’t mention it. His eyes begin to droop and he slumps further into the couch yawning. The tension has eased from his shoulders and his breathing is calmer. James takes note and grabs the remote to turn the television off. 

“I think it’s bedtime, yeah?” James asks, turning to Trent. 

The young lawyer nods sleepily and stands up, walking towards the bathroom to brush his teeth. He turns back towards James and looks at him with sad pleading eyes.

“C-can you st-stay?”

James smiles at the request. He knows that Trent is prone to nightmares following a panic attack and he hadn’t planned to leave his friend anyway. Hearing Trent openly request it is definitely progress though. 

“Of course, I’ll be right out here if you need me buddy.”

Trent’s shoulders relax even further and he walks into the bathroom. 

Once Trent has left the room, James lets out another wet burp. It doesn’t bring him any relief and he presses his hand against his aching belly hoping to coax up another burp. He does, but it brings with it a splash of his dinner, which he quickly swallows back down. His stomach grumbles in response and cramps. 

James stands up carefully and goes to the hall closet where he has a stash of spare clothes. It’s not the first time he’s spent the night here and it won’t be the last. He changes into a fresh shirt and a pair of loose sweatpants. The waist band digs into his puffy belly and James winces, rubbing tenderly and trying not groan when he bends over to pick up his other clothes. The action of bending over sends up another splash of acid and food into his throat. For a moment James thinks he’s going to puke, but nothing happens and he returns to the couch. 

Trent has left a pillow and blanket on the couch for him. James settles onto the couch and curls in on himself. He hugs his bulky arms around his middle and squeezes his eyes shut. With any luck, he’ll be able to fall asleep. 

For the better part of an hour, James tries to sleep, with no success. His stomach hurts and keeps making increasingly loud and distressed sounds. His head is throbbing, despite the aspirin, and perhaps worst of all; James is alone with his thoughts. Everytime he shuts his eyes, he can see Drew’s face or the face of someone else he lost. His mind is flooded with the images of everyone he couldn’t save and it only makes him more nauseated. This tends to happen anytime he gets a fever and James hates it. 

Trent is sleeping soundly in the next room over and James really doesn’t want to disturb him, but he almost wishes Trent would wake up. At least then he would have something else to focus on.

Another cramp ripples through his middle and James bites back a groan. He can still taste dinner in his mouth along with the bitter saliva that keeps flooding in. James stands up, slightly unsteady, and quietly walks to the bathroom. He grabs his toothbrush that Trent keeps here and attempts to brush his teeth. The action makes him gag and James drops the toothbrush leaning over the sick to retch.

His stomach contracts as he gags but all that he manages is a pathetic dribble of bitter drool. He turns and kneels in front of the toilet, squeezing his eyes shut as the world seems to spin around him. Memories flood his brain and James grips the rim of the toilet until his knuckles are white. 

His back arches and he burps, bringing up a gush of puke; quickly followed by another. James pants over the water; the smell and sight of his partially disgusted dinner makes him gag again. James wraps one of his arms around his middle and uses the other to brace himself over the toilet. His belly gurgles under his hand and contracts sending up another wave of vomit. 

When he finishes, James flushes the toilet and washes his face and mouth, before returning to couch. He had hoped that Trent would stay asleep during his bout of sickness, but Trent is a light sleeper even when medicated. 

 “What happened to your phenomenal immune system, huh?”

Trent is sitting on a chair by the couch when James enters the living room. There’s a bucket next to the couch and a bottle of water in Trent’s hand. James flops on the couch and burps into his hand. Trent doesn’t comment but he looks worried just the same. James doesn’t usually get sick and Trent isn’t quite sure how to respond. “I would offer you my bed but I know you won’t take it. Just know that it’s yours if you want.” Trent says as James takes a tentative sip of the water. 

When the water doesn’t immediately come back up, James takes another tiny sip and sets the bottle down on the coffee table. He settles on the couch and looks up at Trent.

“Thanks man, sorry for waking you up.” James says yawning.

Trent stands up and pats James shoulder awkwardly. “It’s no problem” he replies as he heads back to bed. 

James finally manages to fall asleep, his stomach settling somewhat after having purged itself. His dreams are far from peaceful, but James can’t remember a time when they were. When he wakes up he decides that, just this once, an Adersen man is going to take a damn sick day. 

I will edit later enjoy some James and Trent whump xx

#sickfic #emeto #hurt/comfort #whump #tw: abuse #tw: panic attack #trent walker #james andersen #tw: vomit #sicktember 2023 #submission