#vampire sickfic

[angstyaches]

hii could we please get a sick ryan because she ate something stupid (thinking about the time she stole nancys cookies heheh) with nancy as the caretaker? i miss them sm :)🍄

You also requested something Ryan-centric for this post, quite a while ago, so I've combined the two.

Word Count: 4,400+

CW (PLEASE READ): species-based food intolerance, nausea, vomiting, bad self-talk, behaviour which could be interpreted as harmful to the self so please proceed with caution and be gentle with yourselves 🖤

___

“I feel my gratitude must, once again, be expressed,” Ryan said, distracting herself with words while her knife pressed down on her stack of green leaves, tomato slices, chicken, and dressing. This chaotic arrangement had somehow cost more than an entire cow used to cost in the equivalent currency. She supposed she remained indoors far too often, if culture shock could still manage to creep up on her out of nowhere.

Her lunch companion raised her eyebrows as she chewed. She had ordered clam chowder and bread, much to Ryan’s quiet and resigned dismay. Exposure to the smells of food were a challenge for her senses to begin with, but it was a special kind of hell when seafood became involved. To make things worse, she had clams and prawns and whatever else was hauled in off the coast of Portrush had once delighted her beyond reason.

To be sickened by something once loved brought an especially bittersweet tang to her mouth. She could almost hear the crashing waves, the tinkle of little Silas’s laughter –

“For… what?” Mrs. Waters pondered innocently.

“For… inviting me to convene with you over your afternoon meal,” Ryan clarified, giving a slight shake of her head. She would have to limit the extent of her olfactory indulgences as much as possible. “I understand that your schedule must come with an abundance of restrictions –”

The trickle of discomfort in Mrs. Waters’ eyes made Ryan’s words halt on her tongue. She was being too formal. She knew that. Well, she hadn’t known that. But she knew that now.

Or perhaps it was the way Ryan’s jaw threatened to rebel against her every time she lifted the fork to her mouth, her tongue becoming awash with acrid saliva. The way she chewed as though she could somehow stop the food from touching the surfaces inside her mouth. Like a fool.

Like an utter fool.

“It was really no bother at all,” Mrs. Waters assured Ryan, eyeing her bowl of soup as she carefully lifted a spoonful towards her lips. Ryan wasn’t sure if the woman was of a generally nervous disposition, or if it was Ryan, specifically, who was making her nervous. “To be honest, I was a bit anxious to meet you. My Charlie is basically working for you right now.”

“I see,” Ryan said, poking at a chunk of tomato with her fork. It wept a sickly pink juice under the pressure of the tine. She wasn’t sure she was satisfied with the idea that the young Mr. Waters was working for her; she had thought that allowing him to continuing living on the property had been a generous gesture, not a job offer.

Indeed, he would be keeping an eye on the structural integrity of the building and preventing the odd build-up of dust and grime, but didn’t most mortals perform these duties within their dwellings –?

“Not – not that I was afraid you were some kind of weirdo or anything!” Mrs. Waters exclaimed.

“Ah.”

Half a second later, Mrs. Water’s gave a nervous chuckle, which told Ryan that she should be chuckling too, and certainly shouldn’t have given a deadpan, one-word answer. To avoid having to make up for it now, she loaded her mouth full of vinegared leaves, the texture and flavours lost in a sea of tingling, unpleasant numbness between her jaws.

The sensation came on so fast that it felt like a spike had been driven down through the top of her head, its point grating at the base of her tongue. The intensity shocked her somewhat, which was a good thing; if not for the shock, she might have started in her seat and instantly spewed her food back out onto the table.

As things stood, her jaw had clenched and her lips had mashed up tightly together.

“So, you’re looking to move out to the countryside?” Mrs. Waters asked.

Ryan’s eyes were somehow dry, yet also stinging with tears.

She made a show of puffing out her cheeks and pointing towards her closed lips to buy herself more time to chew. More time to… suffer through chewing. Every cell in her body wanted to spray the wet, slippery greens as far as they would go. Her inherently liquid diet didn’t often require her jaws or her back teeth to do much work, beyond the initial slicing into the flesh of a live pray, of course. It was oddly tedious and repetitive work.

Not to mention her guts were practically revolting in protest already. Before she’d turned immortal – more immortal than most other immortals, in fact – Ryan had lived through more diseases than many creatures who still roamed the earth, and she didn’t appreciate the reminder of what sickness could feel like.

But none of that mattered. The current situation called for her to be sociable. There was no room for anything else.

The story was that she was planning to move to the countryside with her partner, who suffered from a rare lung disease and would benefit from a fresher kind of air than the stuff readily available in the suburbs. They were planning on adopting two rescue dogs, and as soon as they were settled in, Ryan planned to take back up her long-lost hobby of painting portraits of animals in Colonial-style dress. This last detail had been Ryan’s own contribution to the charade, and Nancy had raised an eyebrow at it.

The more seemingly innocuous drivel included, the more convincing the fabrication, Ryan had assured her wife, and when it seemed as though Nancy had been about to protest, Ryan had done what she generally did when Nancy was about to protest. She’d kissed her on the mouth.

She couldn’t quite tell Mrs. Waters the truth, that the house her son resided in was plagued by the densest swarm of demons the world over, or that her son himself was possessed by a demon, or that Ryan was monitoring him for fear he’d caught the attention of the most dangerous immortal on the planet.

These were simply not appropriate lunchtime topics of discussion.

“Well… that’s exciting,” Mrs. Waters smiled. She smiled more with the left side of her mouth than the right. “Can I ask why? Are you just… looking for a change, or is there a job…?”

Ryan’s lips trembled, and she wanted to smack them to make them behave. Her lungs gulped in air, despite her efforts to refrain from excessive breathing, as she swallowed the foul mouthful. It gurgled in her throat, her internal muscles twitching and spasming as it was forced down, into a stomach that felt how she imagined Felix’s did when he had to watch a creature being slaughtered.

With a disdainful curl to her lip, Ryan certainly hoped she didn’t look the way Felix did when he had to watch an animal being slaughtered.

Below the table, her stomach burbled.

She pressed a poised finger to her lips, stifled an indigestive burp, and nodded in response to Ingrid’s question. “Well, my partner, you see, has a rather uncommon lung condition…”

___

Ryan sat in her car long for an excessive amount of time after arriving home. The shadows that had descended as the garage door closed behind her had felt like a blanket encircling her shoulders, shrouding her from the prying eyes of the world. The sensation disgusted her. Ryan never had need for blankets or warmth or self-pity.

And as soon as her defences went down, they went down. Hard. The cogs in her brain began to analyse every moment of the interaction, criticise every facial expression, pick apart every selected word, twist at every hum of agreement.

Even the fact that she was sitting in her car, emotionally paralysed, told her that she, herself, needed improvement. If spending the afternoon with a human person could take this much of a toll on her, then she was in dire need of… practice. Exposure. She had once attended Lions Club meetings and taken painting lessons; perhaps it was time to explore those options again. Spend some time with beings other than witches and vampires and… others.

Ryan rested a hand against her abdomen as she pressed her spine into the car seat, feeling a rather violent tension pushing against the buttons of her crisp white shirt. Her stomach was bubbling and squelching away, as though it thought its sluggish efforts would achieve anything close to digestion.

She used the heel of her hand to knead the space beneath her ribs where her meagre meal sat like a thick slime. The wretched organ might as well have been a dried-up clay pot, for all the good it was doing her.

And yet, no matter how many strategies and recalculations spun through her brain, she couldn’t see how she could have excused herself entirely from eating. She could have implied that she was on a diet, or taking medications that limited her mealtime options, but she couldn’t see Mrs. Waters reacting well to either of those. Well, why on earth did you agree to a meeting over lunch? She would have been too polite to say this, but Ryan knew she would have been thinking it. She was thinking it herself.

Thinking about Shayne, Ryan wondered if Mrs. Waters would have felt guilt for eating her lunch if Ryan hadn’t also ordered something. If she’d learned anything from her latest protégé, it was that mortals had the fascinating ability to feel guilt over the most inevitable of their human needs.

Luckily, Ryan was not a human.

And she had things to do.

She drew her shoulders back, released the tension in her stomach - the result was an even tighter press against the buttons of her shirt, but she could ignore it - and opened the car door.

___

As she entered her study after a slow ascent of the stairs, Ryan’s stomach was snarling like a small animal attempting to assert its dominance. She gritted her teeth and bore down on her abdomen with her knuckles. If anything in there wanted out, it should… well, it should make haste. While she usually preferred to shut the door to the upstairs hallway, Ryan left it ajar today, so that she could make a brisk exit to the bathroom when the time came.

Grrrlllrrrgghh.

Ryan listened to the distressed gurgling with a muted sense of contempt. If her stomach was so unhappy with its contents, why hadn’t she thrown up already? She didn’t have all day to wait around for it to happen. Two hundred years, and two transformations later, and it seemed her earthly form was still not without its flaws.

So concerned was she with her despondent gut that she wasn’t even aware that the thrum of Nancy’s footsteps had taken a route from the bedroom to the study, and the soft knock on the doorframe made her heart jump into her raw, delicate throat.

Nancy poked her head around the door with a soft, almost slow-motion swish of her ponytail. “Oh, you’re home!”

“Nothing gets past you, does it, my love?”

“Oh, enough of that,” Nancy tsked, tugging on Ryan’s hand and pulling her about to plant a kiss on her lips.

Ryan softened a little, overcome with relief that she wasn’t married to another vampire. Despite her fantastical abilities, Nancy’s senses – the five main ones, that is – were as dull as the average mortal’s. She wouldn’t detect the scent of salad on Ryan’s breath, so long as Ryan didn’t exhale near her. Therefore, it was a very chaste, brief kiss that they shared.

“How did it… Ryan?” Nancy gasped as she stood back, holding a hand to her mouth as though to quiet herself. “Why do you look like death warmed over?”

Ryan curled her lip as she stalked over to her desk. She thumped the documents onto the wood. “I did not think this was news to you, Nan, but it did. Two hundred years ago, to be precise.”

“Sweetheart, I meant that you –”

“Yes, yes, thank you, love. Incidentally, you also look radiant this evening,” Ryan murmured. As she slumped into her chair, her stomach gave yet another obnoxious, unproductive grumble. She cleared her throat and gazed across at Nancy.

“Sorry, Ry,” Nancy said, cheeks reddening. Then she swept her hands down the front of her skirts, with an air of starting on a clean slate, as she planted herself in the plush armchair that sat to the side of Ryan’s desk. “How did everything go?”

“Fine.”

“Everything signed?”

“Of course.”

“Wonderful,” Nancy smiled, with a distinct lack of the excitement she’d had at every other point of this endeavour. “What was Charlie’s mum like?”

“Mrs. Waters,” Ryan rather snapped,“was akin to a pleasant, yet overall remarkably ordinary, individual.”

Nancy let out a gentle scoff, once again brushing her hands over her skirts. “Well, don’t overwhelm me with details.”

“I do not know what more to tell you. Except that… I am…” Ryan’s eyes widened as she trailed off. She’d been trailing off an awful lot today, even though it was a habit that irked her in others.

But a tingling, numbing wetness began to fill her mouth at an alarming rate, worse even than when she’d been taking bites of the salad that was prickling at the base of her oesophagus. The air felt like hot soup against her skin, in her lungs.

Why, why couldn’t Nancy have been occupied elsewhere? Now Ryan was obliged to share her discomfort, or continue her silence and risk giving her wife an untimely fright. “I believe I am… ‘bout to experience… emesis.”

Nancy blinked. “You –?”

Ryan’s eyes were wrenched back so hard in her skull that they ached, and her back arched forward so hard that she felt like a doll being pulled by the hair. The wheels of her desk chair rattled as she trundled out of range of anything particularly porous… Her stomach muscles clenched so hard that Ryan – in a moment of hyperbolic weakness – thought that her internal organs might come up through her nose –

And yet, while her senses braced themselves for the wet, clattering sound of stomach contents hitting the tiled floor, nothing came. Ryan swayed between emotional relief and dismay at being denied the physical relief.

“Oh, sweetheart, come,” Nancy murmured, and then her delicate, warm hands were guiding Ryan’s shoulders up and out of the desk chair. “I knew something was off about you. Did you eat?”

“I may have… ingested… a few mouthfuls of leafy matter.”

“A salad?” Nancy could neither have looked nor sounded more horrified if Ryan had hinted towards having had a stick of plutonium for lunch.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“A refusal to ingest would have resulted in…” Ryan slapped a hand to her stomach – silly as it sounded, her instinct seemed to be to try to physically suppress the spread of pain through her insides. “… Suspicion or discomfort.”

Nancy’s lower lip dropped down silently, but Ryan knew her wife well enough to guess what her thoughts were; how can someone with so much wisdom and experience be so stupid?

Thankfully, dear, sweet Nancy spared her the actual voicing of the thought.

“How… How was it?”

Amidst holding down her gorge, and fighting the urge to slump to the floor and take Nancy with her, Ryan managed to muster up a look of derision. She cast it lengthways as she hobbled from the study with her hands clasped on Nancy’s shoulders. Nancy looked back at her with a gormless grimace.

“Right. Never mind.”

___

“It. Refuses. To. Emerge,” Ryan moaned into the toilet bowl.

"Sweetheart," Nancy murmured distractedly.

Ryan flung a hand up in the air, then clapped it against her thigh in a display of finality. “It will never emerge! I shall now persist with rotting vegetation in my tract for the remainder of my existence.”

Nancy gave a light-hearted click of her tongue. “This,” she hummed, “coming from the woman who refuses to give up on a single other person on earth.”

Ryan attempted to spit the sour taste from her mouth, but her excessive saliva had dried up, leaving her with nothing but a tacky residue that clung to her cheeks like cells held together with collagen. If she’d had more spit, maybe the foul contents of her stomach would have slipped up and out of her by now, instead of sticking to her insides like leeches.

“What makes you the one and only hopeless case on this entire planet, hmm?” Nancy’s eyebrows quirked as she focused on something she’d arranged in her lap, nestled in the folds of her skirt. “What makes you so special?”

Ryan sank back from the toilet, though couldn’t quite get her head to remain straight without supporting it against the side of the bowl. She rubbed miserably at her gut; the chances of producing a physiological benefit were low, but she couldn’t fight the instinct to try. Her mood shifted once she’d realised that her wife was concocting something; not hopeful, but lured back from the brink by scientific intrigue.

Her weary eyes skimmed over a couple of ingredients that Nancy had used to throw together potions over the years, though Ryan had never seen them in this combination before. From her knowledge of Nancy’s works, it seemed to her that the result of this project would be rather… well, explosive would be a word for it.

“An elixir,” Ryan murmured, “to induce emesis?”

“Mmhmm,” Nancy’s voice pulsed in her throat, as though parting her lips to answer would have been too much of a distraction.

Disappointment clouded Ryan’s curiosity, rendering it difficult not to sink into the pains in her stomach, not to feel them so completely that everything else dimmed once again. “It will not be effective on me.”

“What if I told you I have added one very special ingredient,” Nancy said, raising one sardonic eyebrow, “for one very special lady?”

“I would remind you,” Ryan muttered, “that I am not merely a special ‘lady’, but an organism of unnatural qualities, including a resistance to the potency of –”

“In that case, you would have nothing to lose, isn’t that correct, my love?”

Ryan snatched the vial with what was probably excessive force and knocked back the liquid. Something stirred in her memory as she gulped, as though her taste buds had somewhat drifted out of slumber, just for a nanosecond. Mostly, she enjoyed how cool the fluid was as it snaked down her burning throat and carved its steady way down towards her stomach.

“It,” she spat, mouth dry as she lowered the vial, “will be ineffective.”

Nancy wore a patient smile almost as well as she wore a sweetheart neckline. More impressively, even, for Ryan knew that Nancy’s reserves of patience did not run as deep as their boys, or her students, thought. That patient smile was a thing of fine craftsmanship.

“If so,” she said softly, “I apologise. But wasn’t it worth a shot?”

Ryan had to turn her face away to avoid the humbling light of Nancy’s well-fought-for optimism. Her stomach rumbled in acknowledgment of its latest arrival, confirmed even further by a vibration through Ryan’s hand. “I suppose so.”

Nancy stretched her arms above her head, tilting her folded knees to keep her equipment and ingredients from rolling over the tiled floor. “Whew. I for one am mighty tired of this floor, Ry. Mind if we move you to the bed with a bucket instead?”

___

Bed and bucket proved a mundane combination to an immortal woman with work on the brain and an immovable lump in her stomach.

Ryan lay slumped on her side, face right at the edge of the bed so that she could keep an eye on her designated bucket, for so long that the sun set behind the curtains. About six kilometres away, a cricket began to shriek, adding itself to the din of the city. The world moved on, progressed, thrived, while Ryan lay overwhelmed with nausea, unable to digest or eject the offending food.

And yet her stomach continued to grumble its discomfort.

Nancy had stayed awake with her, fondling her hair in a way that reminded Ryan just vaguely of being fussed over by her mother. She wasn’t certain if the memory was welcome or not, and tried to let it wash over her like the tide. Nancy had also massaged Ryan’s back for a while which, whilst failing to dislodge the knots in her stomach, had done wonders for the tension in her muscles.

Gghhhhrrrlllgghh.

“Ssshh,” Ryan hissed, pressing her knuckles harshly against her stomach muscles. The pressure evidently would offer no help in inducing vomiting, but there was nothing to say a little aggression wouldn’t discourage the infuriating noises that continued to –

“Ry,” Nancy chided, closing her fingers around Ryan’s fist and guiding it halfway across the bed. She pressed Ryan's wrist into the top sheet, far away from where it could do any more persuading. “Please don’t do that. You’ll hurt yourself.”

“It is wearing on my nerves like –”

“I don’t care.” Nancy’s tone prodded at the fog of nausea and rage, and Ryan caught glimpse of herself through her wife’s eyes. “You’re wearing on mine with this nonsense. You’ve put your body through an ordeal already today, and now is the time to let it recover in whatever way it needs. Isn't that the wise thing to do?"

She exhaled noisily through her nose – was that a snort of amusement? – as Ryan’s stomach gurgled and bubbled a few inches from her elbow. Ryan’s brain flared with annoyance, which she quickly threw some reins on.

“Perhaps.”

“There is no ‘perhaps’,” Nancy said. “But you’re already suffering enough bodily, so I won’t put you through the mental torture of admitting that I'm right."

Ryan hummed in appreciation. Nancy didn't let up on her hand, so Ryan eventually turned her palm upwards so that their fingers could interlock. She almost found herself drifting off to sleep when she realised Nancy had shifted and slipped her hand away. Ryan felt her tug a wisp of Ryan's silvery-blonde hair back from her face, heard her wife holding her breath in a way that invited conversation.

“Yes?” Ryan had slurred before Nancy had even spoken.

“Will you try taking a second dose?”

It took Ryan longer than she was proud to admit to realise that Nancy was talking about the elixir she’d concocted earlier. If she thought about it hard enough, Ryan was sure that she could still feel the cool, slightly sticky medicine sitting alongside the offending mush in the pit of her stomach. Not making anything worse, but certainly not improving anything.

Ryan grunted. “I do not think it will –”

“Let me rephrase,” Nancy interrupted. “I have a second dose for you, and I strongly suggest you take it.”

With an even more aggressive grunt, Ryan hauled herself into a somewhat-upright position. It would be easier to take the useless potion than to incite further argument. She winced as the sudden movement made it feel as though her intestines were poised to crack inside of her.

“Give it to me,” she deadpanned, but Nancy was already un-stoppering the vial for her. Ryan slurped it back, fueled by nothing but the assuredness that this was not going to work, and was astonished to find herself licking her lips as soon as she’d swallowed. Even more bizarre, she found herself anticipating the smooth sensation of the medicine coursing down her throat, cooling and almost pleasant in its –

It stuck. It stuck, like a rock in the centre of her chest.

Ryan swallowed again, her posture turning rigid. She was only vaguely aware of Nancy’s hand coming up to rest on her waist.

A bubble of pressure slipped into the back of Ryan’s throat, and her stomach muscles jolted, resulting in a high-pitched exclamation and a thunderous, sloshing gurgle.

And then a belch.

A deep one, one that she felt reverberate under her lower left rib. The moment had a faint gloss of eureka to it, like she’d made a world-changing discovery, but at its core was a pit of dread, like she’d made a world-ending discovery.

She shuddered, torn halfway between turning towards the edge of the bed and turning to face her wife in disbelief.

“What… what’d you –?”

"Don't worry about it, cookie."

"But..."

In her desperate curiosity, Ryan almost choked on a mouthful of vomit. She would have ejected it all over the bedroom floor, had Nancy not laid gentle hands on the sides of her head and directed the spray downwards. There was a conveniently-placed bucket beside the bed, primed to catch and contain her vomit.

The bulk of it, at least.

As the retch had lost momentum, a small wave of thick slime had dripped from Ryan’s lower lip, hitting the floorboards between the bed and the bucket with a weighty thwop.

“Wonderful,” Ryan choked out, swiping her chin with the back of her hand. She barely had time to consider where she was going to wipe said hand when her guts gave another powerful lurch.

This time, a delicate hand slipped across the bed and tugged the rim of the bucket closer to Ryan’s side of the mattress. Nancy’s chest and stomach brushed softly against Ryan’s back.

“Great job,” Nancy murmured softly.

Ryan would have scoffed, if she���d been able to catch her breath. Great job? Great job suffering through the consequences of a bad decision? Great job smearing the hardwood with her gastric juices? She was not a child; even a child shouldn’t have been praised for anything she was doing.

Ryan cried out instinctively as she gagged again, the hollow ring of her voice echoing loudly inside the metal bucket over the gushing and splashing. She felt Nancy’s hands move to her shoulders, fingers lightly massaging the tumultuous muscles there.

"Oh," Ryan sighed as soon as she could get a word in between heaves. The mechanical harmony of clenching muscles and ejected fluids was almost as comforting as her wife's touch. After all, what could be more reassuring than the knowledge that one's body is working as it should?

"Better?" Nancy whispered, using her pinky to fish a pale curl away from the edge of Ryan's mouth.

Ryan hung her head over the side of the mattress, slack-jawed, unwilling to close her mouth and risk inhibiting further substance elimination. Nancy shifted her hands as though to hold her in place, and although she wasn't, Ryan found she was rather enjoying the illusion.

"Yes," she slurred, though she knew her ordeal was far from over. "Ineffably so."

#StW Ryan #StW Nancy #sickfic #emeto #emeto sickfic #vampire emeto #vampire sickfic #vampire whump #vampire OC #sickfic blog #emeto blog #emetophilia #vampire kink #stomach kink #whump #fantasy emeto #fantasy sickfic #hurt comfort #hurt and comfort

[scarlet-ancunin]

Omg i know Astarion is a Vampire and all but, can you do a headcanon or one-shot with Astarion denying he is sick but he is Tav see's it his companions see it and they do little things to make him feel better even if he denies it. Thank you so much

A/n: heh interesting I'll make it happen *cracks knuckles to regret it later*

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧

I'm A Vampire, Forever Healthy

Everyone in the group was sick.... in the head due to your undying fiend living in your brain.

But luck was on your side and your companions side since no one seem to get the symptoms of becoming a mindflayer. You learned that day to count your blessings.

You met some interesting people along the way to a one in particular caught your interest more. A pale elf who you found out was a vampire spawn, who also happened to greet you in a unique way. A knife to your throat.

You chuckle at the memories by the camp fire while everyone else talked about random things. But you notice one member missing from you little band of misfits the vampire spawn. 'Hm?' You thought to yourself.

Turned out Astarion was acting a little strange sitting inside his tent sipping some wine which looks more along the lines of blood but he looked slightly.... out of it.

"Astarion are you okay? You look a little pale" you said before realizing what you said doing a mental facepalm

"Obviously darling last i checked im a vampire spawn comes with the territory" he sneers.

You winced "i mean paler than normal hows that are you feeling well?" You asked and Astarion waves you off dismissively "im fine, no meed to worry thay pretty head of yours" he said smoothly.

You drop it but something in your gut tells you. The man is clearly lying.

Next time it happens you watched Gale dodge a stray lightning arrow that Astarion let out making him turn to scold Astarion but noticed the man was holding his head pain etched in his features.

Gale made it his business to hunt down two boars amd drained it perfectly into two jars and walked over to him in camp holding the two jars "i believe you need some nourishment my friend so i took the liberty of draining the boars i caught for dinner so enjoy"

Astarion looked up his elf ears twitching lightly surprised and he was going to respond with a snarky remark but it was a nice gesture. But he didn't need to be owing anyone favor but Gale spoke up "our deal is try to stay healthy so you wont shock me" he chuckles and walked away.

The next time was when they entered a cave Astarion was shivering and his body just felt awful he didn't think typical weather can effect him. What in the hells was going on. He was thinking until Karlach stood beside him "hey Fangs you okay? Shivering like a leaf over here" Astarion scowls "im fine just.. just saw something- um disgusting" Karlach rolled her eyes not beliving him but mentioned you was making camp soon

When everyone turned it Karlach saw Astarion was struggling to meditate because he felt awful still and cold. He didn't hear when Karlach came over and simply sat next to him her body heat was welcoming but Astarion still scowls "i said im fine-" "easy fangs im just sitting here because gale is snoring"

If Astarion wasn't feeling terrible he wouldn't have believed such a deception. But he did and huffs "fine"

After a few moments Karlach felt a weight on her shoulder before looking at down to see Astarion head was on her shoulder slipping into a light meditative state.

You had the last stray and glare at Astarion the team behind you "Astarion your sick and your going to rest and be taken care of understand"

Astarion was taken aback "sick what do you mean im sick, im a vampire forever Healthy" he sticks his head up in resentment, much to his protesting headache.

You frown "please let us help you its clear you feel aweful and i-.... um" you look away having a faint blush since you never really told Astarion how you felt since he probably wouldn't believe you.

Then Karlach steps in "you see Fangs, this one care about you alot more than you think. And they want to see you okay get it?"

Astarion looked over at You and gave you a blank stare before sighing in defeat. "Alright fine, but you better not mention this little group meeting to everyone else" he complained and their little band chuckles quietly agreeing.

Later that night you made it your business to remain in his tent tending to him and even stayed back to keep Astarion company until he was on his toes again and when he was fully healed he pulled you in for a timid kiss before smirking.

"This is a gift, i won't forget it" he said softly holding your hand

⋇⊶⊰❣⊱⊷⋇ ⋇⊶⊰❣⊱⊷⋇⋇⊶⊰❣⊱⊷⋇ ⋇⊶⊰❣⊱⊷⋇

A/n: he got everyone sick later one oops.

Requests are open for our favorite vampire spawn 🥺💞 thank you everyone hope you liked it.

#request open #send me stuff #unhinged #unhinged astarion simp #astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion baldurs gate #astarion ancunin #astarion x oc #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x tav #astarion approves #astarion and you #bg3 #bg3 tav #baldurs gate 3 #vampire spawn #sickfic #astarion needs a hug #vampire spawn astarion #spawn astarion #friendship #Gale #karlach #careful i bite

[whumpsoda]

What would happen if the Sleepy Thrall got sick and needed medical attention?

-- @oliversrarebooks

WOHEO Masterlist So here’s like. My fifth? writing post of the past week… I’m just on the writing grind :3

cw: sickfic, pet whump, multiple whumpers & whumpees, vampire whumpers, captivity hypnotised/brainwashed whumpees

———————————————————————

“Mal…ak?” 

Nevan delicately poked his head inside the dimly lit room, the tall, wooden door creaking along. 

His vision took a moment to settle into the darkness as he looked toward the thrall’s shared mattress placed beside the vampire’s luxurious bed, fully expecting Malak to be seated atop it. 

Strangely, he was not.

“Malak?” Nevan called again softly, turning around the room until his gaze landed on the corner farthest from said mattress.

Huddled up to the wall, curled into a tight ball of his large frame Malak sniveled, nose dribbling with snot and eyes rung sickly red. He rubbed his face with his palms, shielding his vision from bright light sneaking in from the open door. “Oh.”

Nevan carefully stepped inside, shutting the door slowly behind him until it clicked. Arms outstretched in front of him he knelt before the ill thrall. “Malak..? Are you… alright?” He questioned, voice low and gravely, trying purposely to not make enough noise that may elicit or increase a headache. 

“Um…” Malak started, peeking the tiniest bit out from his legs. His eyes were wide and shaky, body trembling. “Head… feels weeeird… don’t like.” He mumbled quietly, brows furrowing in muddled confusion. “‘M sorry…”

Nevan placed a hand to his knee, rubbing lightly over his skin with a soft thumb. “It’s fine. Yes… you… you should get back in bed…” he urged, guiding Malak's gaze to the tussled mattress he had wandered out of.

“Nngh…! Noooo… no bed, please…” Malak whined, pushing his frame further into the wall behind him. At least, as much farther as he could, already shoved deep against it. 

Nevan sighed. “You… you like it here?” 

Malak only nodded weakly in response, his head swaying just the slightest bit from dizziness. Nevan lifted a thermometer between two fingers. “Okay… uh, can… Master Darius told me to take your temperature… again… can, can I?”

For a beat Malak considered allowing him to do so, before giving another slight nod of approval. “Umm… shh… sure…”

“Thank you. Say ah.”

The other man obliged, welcoming the thermometer under his outstretched tongue and accepting it by the grip of his lips. The two waited in silence, Nevan still brushing the other man’s skin as a means of comfort.

“Mm… one oh one.” Nevan read the numbers, disapprovingly. 

“I’m sorry… sorryyyy… sorry…” Malak slumped back once again, head lolling onto his buckled shoulders. “Head weird… Nevan.” He whispered, shutting his eyes tight.

Nevan wanted to help him, he really did. He didn’t remember ever having been sick himself, but from the look of how hard it hit Malak, he could almost understand exactly how gross he felt. “No… I’m… I’m sorry.” How could he possibly help? How disgustingly useless.

Malak clawed feebly at his own skin and flesh, wriggling and fidgeting restlessly in his spot and portraying his own agony. “Don’t… don’t, ummm, like it… bad. Bad.” He whined, gratingly, the sound scratching against Nevan’s eardrums.

“Well… you’re, you’re talking a lot. That’s nice.”

“Feels weird… bad…”

Nevan frowned. “Well Master had to, to make you more… awake ‘n stuff so we can help you. That’s good… right?”

Adrastus had been practically forced to ease up on Malak’s enthrallment due to his ill state, him having been doing overall far worse with it as intense as normal. Plus, they required him to be able to communicate his pain in order to aid in his recovery. It was a condition he was, as expected, still adjusting to.

“Good… goood…” Malak mimicked. Nevan grinned, just a little bit from hearing the other man still utilizing one of his common habits even when dreadfully sick.

Before Nevan could open his lips to speak again, the door was nuged open so Adrastus could enter. Their arms were full with further bedding, elegantly lush pillows and blankets gathered for their favorite thrall. “Oh, dear, I’m back.” They bumbled in, heading straight to the thrall’s bed before they took notice of its absence of a body.

The pair followed as their face flipped to further distress in a flash, searching quick for their thrall, before landing on the two. “Nevan!” They exclaimed, recoiling an inch backwards. “You mustn’t be in here, get, get! You might catch it! I know how much you care about your little friend, but we just can’t risk you getting sick as well.”

Adrastus slipped between the thralls as Nevan stood to his feet, heading to leave as the vampire had instructed, but was held back by Malak gripping the bottom of his dress with a deadly grip.

“Goodness, how are you doing, baby? Tell me how you feel. What do you need? I can get you anything.” The vampire fussed, tucking their thrall’s sweat coated curls behind his ears and out of the way of his eyes.

Malak mewled, the edge of his words shaky and cracked as the urge to cry was swelling. “Bad… ickyyy…”

“Yes, love, I know, I know. What’s bad?” They pressed, urgently and needily.

He thought for a moment, processing their wants and questions, scouring for an acceptable answer. “Mmmngh… head… my, mmn, nose…”

“Alright, what can I get you? Umm… medicine? I’ll see if we have any more blankets? Please, baby, I’ll get you anything.” Their tone was growing ever so more distressed by the second, desperate for a solution as they nodded along with his soft but pained mumbles. The edge of their words was tainted with what almost seemed like fear. 

Nevan watched their conversation unfold, stomach churning with sick and worry filled unease. He’d never seen Adrastus less than elegantly put together, never without their dignified, strict composure. The sight of them carefully trying to keep up their facade rattled anxiety in his bones.

“Want… want…” Malak gazed gently upward, meeting the other thrall with cloudy eyes that mirrored the still hazy fog of his mind. “Nevaaannnn… Nevaaaannn…!” He continued tugging at the dress flowing from Nevan’s waist, jerking him harder and harder as Nevan struggled against the much stronger man.

“No, no. No Nevan.” Their tone was devoid of anger, rather spewing with urgency. “Nevan. Leave.”

“Nooo! Nevaaann…! Need!”

His head was spinning, being called every which way. He didn’t know what to do, who’s orders to follow. His face was tainted with the scald of flattery, poorly hiding his excitement of someone, especially Malak, expressing a need of him. Him. Though, he knew such defiance was not acceptable.

“No, sweet, Master is right here. Nevan can’t help you, but master can. You could get Nevan sick.” Adrastus corrected with a strained smile, trying their very best to remain calm. “And, you like master more, don’t you? Master’s right here.”

Malak whined again, looking nearly dejected, making Nevan’s heart only hurt further with vigorous compassion. “Sorry… sorry… need, ummm, Nev… annn…”

“No! You are sick! You’re going to get him sick!” Their voice continued rising with stinging heat, shouting at their own thrall while still in a short vicinity. They had dropped any and all lingering peace in their mind, and Nevan jumped back, cowering weakly.

They never yelled at Malak. Never. Both thralls were understandably stuck in place with surprise, salty tears instinctively welling in Malak’s eyes. Nevan wished he could’ve done something, anything, but Adrastus' burning stare was well enough to keep him frozen in place.

“‘M sorry… sorry-”

“Ad, it’s okay, it’s just a fever.” Darius piped up from the back, soft and calm yet unexpected. The three huddled together whipped around to face him, Adrastus’ expression boiling with flushed anger and embarrassment. “He’ll probably get it anyway and they’ll both be fine.”

The other vampire shook their head frantically, a sight that only put Nevan more on edge. “No! N- no, he, he can’t get sick! We can’t let him get sick,

Hester can’t be sick.”

The air flipped the switch to silence, save for their quick and exhausted breaths. Nevan stared dumbly, all he really could do paralyzed by fear. He’d learned full well what happened when a vampire was upset.

Nevan had… never heard such a name before. Of course, not that he could recall, but still. It was sudden, and even Adrastus appeared disturbed that they had let it slip.

“Dear,” Darius interrupted, his voice eerily soothing and kind. He’d never spoken that way. At least not to Nevan, which wasn’t at all surprising. “You need to step away.” 

“No, no, I-”

“Ad.” Their lips zipped to a close. “I need you to take a minute.” He looked to his own thrall, who shrunk back with festering fear. “Nevan, take them to the kitchen.”

Malak erupted, moaning in aching agony. “Nooo! Noooo… I need Master! Need… Nevan…”

Adrastus instinctively curled their hands over that of Malak’s, gaze full of unbridled abd desperate saccharine. “But- but what about-”

“Malak will be fine. I’ll stay with him.”

“But, the doctor-”

“Baby, the doctor said the same. He just needs rest and the meds she gave us.”

“Masterrr…!” Malak called again, his words cut apart by thick whimpers and snivels. The sound of his suffering carved deep marks in Nevan’s ears, and even more so Adrastus’.

“But…” they paused, begrudgingly stepping back from their upset thrall. Nevan looked to the other man with sorry eyes as Malak’s face twisted in disappointment as the two headed to leave. “Can I come back…?”

“Of course, Ad. I just need you to calm down, okay?” Darius placed a hand on each shoulder, tenderly guiding them to the door before Malak could continue his outbursts and convince them to stay. “You can take a couple sips from Nevan if you would like.”

“O- okay. Okay. But I’ll be right back to your side, baby. I’ll make sure Nevan is all nice and, and safe and away from any diseases.”

Nevan gave one last small wave to his friend before leaving, Adrastus gripping and squeezing his forearm, biting their lip with unusual nervousness. He tried not to pay too much attention to it. “Thank you, master.”

Though, as the two walked out to the kitchen and he kneeled beside his master, neck craned to show off his throat, even with his brain dazing out from their strong aura, he couldn’t help but dwell on the name they’d previously let slip instead of his.

Just who was Hester?

———————————————————————

Taglist- @softvampirewhump @iys-cloud @battyfantasy @xx-adam-xx @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @mylifeisonthebookshelf

If anyone wants to be removed or added to the taglist, please let me know! :)

#asks :) #Oliversrarebooks #we only have each other #Malak oc #Nevan oc #Adrastus oc #Darius oc #Whump writing #my writing #whump #whumpblr #whump story #sickfic #illness #sick #sick whump #Pet whump #vampire #vampire whumper #thrall whumpee

[whumpshaped]

Concept: beck becoming anemic after being fed on for a while and helle being thrown because huh, that had never happened before? Saw it as a side effect in your guide and was like OOH

not terribly long after this

masterlist

tw vampire whumper, sickfic i guess, blood transfusion, hospital setting, needles

Tired, tired, tired, always so fucking tired. Beck thought he was going to go mad with this constant, mind-numbing exhaustion. At first, he really assumed it was just the monotonity of his dire situation. He'd heard of people getting used to bad situations, then eventually their bodies shutting down 'out of nowhere'. It was never out of nowhere, of course. Prolonged abuse like that would've taken a toll on anyone's body.

But he tried to push through it, given he had no solution or end in sight. More sleep, as much as he could get away with while working during the day and entertaining a vampire during the night. More coffee, as much as he could drink without his anxiety skyrocketing and sabotaging his work. More fresh air even, something he had been stubbornly disregarding for the first 25 years of his life.

It didn't work. His skin continued to get paler, if that was even possible, his heart continued to act up, which he'd chalked up to the coffee, and he kept getting winded from the three flights of stairs leading up to his apartment. Even Helle's mild annoyance was slowly turning into proper concern.

"You will go to the doctor tomorrow," they announced one night. Beck groaned, but didn't argue.

"Okay."

"And I am not feeding from you tonight."

Well... that was good news, at least. "Do I really look that bad?" Helle sighed, almost exasperated, as though Beck should've known how heavy this had been weighing on their unbeating heart or whatever. Maybe he did look that bad, from the outside. "S-sorry. Thank you for, um... caring," he finished quietly, unsure of the wording.

They scoffed. "I am not condemning myself to drinking from some sick human." They grabbed his phone from the table and shoved it into his hands. "You should actually look up your symptoms. Now."

"Helle, I don't know how to explain this... online medical stuff is not the best source of–"

"That is why you are going to the doctor tomorrow. But until then–" They nodded towards the phone, still looking at him expectantly. "I want to know, too. What I can potentially expect. Is it deadly? Do I need to be looking for a new human? These are important things, you know."

Beck unlocked his phone and started typing in the name of the most trustworthy page in this realm of the internet that he could think of. He wondered whether Helle had ever had to deal with a long-term bloodbag getting a little too sick. Or had they always been a one-off kinda vampire? Surely, they should've been aware that this sort of thing could have severe health complications.

"So?" God, they sounded so impatient.

"Whatever it is, I'm not gonna die from it tonight. I swear."

Helle rolled their eyes and continued pacing. Why were they anxious about this? He should've been the one pacing and fearing for his life! And if he had been able to muster up the energy for it, he would've been.

"Anaemia," he said after a few more minutes. "That's the most likely, and um... it... it would make sense, I suppose. I probably should've thought about that..."

"Anaemia," Helle repeated, lost in thought. They didn't say anything for a long moment, and Beck didn't know whether that was a good or a bad sign. "I am not waiting until tomorrow. Get dressed."

"Wh– what?"

"I said get dressed."

It wasn't often that Helle sounded so serious. Whenever they did, Beck always got this sense of impending doom, like something utterly terrible was going to happen. What else could make an immortal, aloof vampire act so... weird?

He silently got up from the sofa and went to his bedroom, putting on some random clothes and a mask as quickly as he could. Was this thing deadlier than he realised? Had Helle lost many bloodbags to severe anaemia before? He didn't know, he was too afraid to ask, and he chose to believe it was simply an out of touch vampire's buyer's remorse.

"Are we going to a hospital?" he asked timidly as he stepped out of the bedroom, and Helle nodded. "In the middle of the night?"

"Are there no emergency care facilities in the whole of the city?" they snapped, and Beck decided to just let them do whatever they wanted. The worst that could happen to him in an ER was a bit of a scolding for wasting time. The worst Helle could do? Well. He knew which one he was going to choose.

He just hoped Helle wasn't about to threaten any nurses in the name of his... health.

-

Severe anaemia. Blood transfusion.

Beck stared at the nurse as they brought out the needle to take a sample of his blood, still in a daze when it pierced his skin. If Helle hadn't trained him better, he might've jerked his arm away.

What was going on?

The charmed employees gave no reaction to Helle's little joke about his blood being 'A plus, I mean, positive', just as they gave none to their presence in general. They moved through protocol as though everything was normal, giving Beck a rundown on what was about to take place and how.

"It could take up to four hours, but we might help it along a little. It's a wonder you were walking around like this without... well, dropping dead."

Beck gave a nervous chuckle. "Um, yeah, I guess... I don't know, I thought I was just not getting enough sleep."

The nurse gave him a look. "Of course. I assume the vampire bite scars on your wrist have nothing to do with the anaemia."

Right. He forgot that she could just... see that. "Uh..."

"I'm not here to judge, you're neither the first nor the last victim I treat. But it's good to be honest with healthcare professionals, yeah? I know there's a bit of a stigma around it in certain places, but the emergency room is not one of them."

Beck nodded mutely. He didn't dare look at Helle. Despite them causing the anaemia in the first place, he had to admit that he was grateful to them for forcing him to come in. Who knew how long he would've continued walking around like that? Maybe he would've dropped dead.

Once he was left alone in the room, Helle cleared their throat. "Well..."

"Thank you," he said without much prompting, knowing perfectly well that was what the vampire wanted to hear. It was easier to say now, when he actually felt grateful, as opposed to all the times when they wrung the words from him through sheer terror. "I wouldn't have come in without you. Definitely not to the emergency room, but... not even to my GP."

Helle leaned against the wall with a smile on their face. They seemed pleased. "Oh, do continue. I love praise like that."

"Will you stay? For the... the entirety of the four hours?" He nodded towards the needle, shifting uncomfortably. "I, um... I could use the distraction. Please."

"Are you afraid of needles?"

"Could you sound a little less excited about it?"

Helle shook their head, the amusement never leaving their face. "You do know you will get transfusions a lot, yes? I mean, most likely. Bloodbags and thralls get them a lot."

"Could you not remind me?" he asked, even whinier.

They laughed, then walked over and sat in the other comfortable chair next to his. "Would you still like me to stay?"

"If you're just gonna make it worse, then, then maybe not," he muttered. "No, wait– I changed my mind, I don't care. You can make it worse. I just don't– I don't wanna be alone."

"Oh, I have full permission?" They leaned over and poked the tube a little, and Beck almost yanked his arm away. Again.

"D-don't mess with the needle!" God, he was so trapped. He couldn't just run away with an IV in his arm. "I meant– I don't care what you say, but don't– don't do that! Please!"

"But it looks so tasty. I could rip it out and use it as a straw."

"Okay, maybe I do want you to leave."

Helle grinned, very satisfied with their own performance. "I am quite good at making others uncomfortable, am I not? It is a skill I have perfected over three hundred years."

Beck could only nod, miserable and exhausted. "Can you... not put all that experience to use for just two minutes? Respectfully."

"Two minutes? My darling, darling Beck. You want me to sit here and chat away for four hours." They sighed dramatically. "But yes, I suppose I could dial it back a little. Just for you."

~

taglist: @whumpsday @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @delicateprincepaper @whumppmuhw @florissimps @nicolepascaline @oliversrarebooks @the-cyrulik @pirefyrelight @there-will-always-be-blood @pigeonwhumps @echo-goes-mmm @whumpycries @morning-star-whump

#at my beck and call #whump #whump writing #helle #beckett #vampire whumper #sickfic #blood transfusion #hospital setting #needles

[pixelatedraindrops]

A little drabble scenario idea I put together for @snivyartjpeg’s Kokolight Vampire AU 💜💚🦇

To Care for a Sick Vampire

Yuma seems to be even more tired/weak than usual one day and Vivia notices that something is wrong with him. He asks him if he wants to feed on any of his blood to possibly re-energize him. But to Vivia’s surprise, Yuma refuses the offer outright.

“You look tired, Yuma… Are you…hungry? Do you need to feed? I will provide for you anytime you ask…”

“…No.”

This concerns Vivia but then he notices how pale and sickly Yuma looks, even more than usual. He puts his hand to Yuma’s cheek, but it wasn’t warm. Of course not, he’s a vampire. They probably don’t get fevers to begin with since vampire blood runs cold. But he definitely wasn’t well, that much was certain.

Vivia decides to slice the palm of his hand with his large boxknife he keeps in his pocket and places it in front of Yuma’s face.

“You…need to eat, Yuma… Even if it’s just a little bit…otherwise…you won’t feel any better…”

Yuma looks hesitant at first but then complies as the scent of Vivia’s blood does tempt his urges despite his weak state. He leans his head down slowly and weakly licks and laps the fresh cut on Vivia’s palm. He does it very slowly, but he has a small expression of relief. Even if he wasn’t well, he did still want to eat. But he didn’t want to consume large amounts of blood in this state, in his fear of possibly losing himself due to the weakness and sickly feeling that he felt.

He didn’t want to cause any further trouble for the agency, especially the Chief now that his secret was out to him. He also didn’t want to unexpectedly hurt anyone if his blood urges had gone out of control. It wasn’t safe for him to be blood drunk right now.

At least, that was his worry since he didn’t really understand how his vampiric urges worked due to his amnesia. But he didn’t want to take any chances if his current state wasn’t in good condition. He couldn’t risk causing any more trouble for everyone.

Even if that meant… starving himself.

Thankfully, this small amount of blood that Vivia provided for him seemed to suffice well enough. He stops lapping the cut, looking up to his tall human partner above him.

“…Thank you…Vivia…”

After a very small feeding, he transforms into his little lilac bat form and he tries to fly. But he was still too weak as he falls downward face down toward the floor. But Vivia catches him in his hands just in time.

“You’re too weak, Yuma… I will offer more to you…after you rest for a bit…”

Yuma spends the rest of the day resting/sleeping on Vivia’s hair/lap/shoulder/arms. The poor thing was trembling the whole time. And Vivia continued to feed Yuma very small amounts of his blood whenever he looked too weak, to which the tiny sickly bat would slowly lap up like a delicate little newborn kitten. Over time, Vivia ends up with multiple cuts on his left arm.

Later, Yakou enters the sub safely after seeing that the two were not doing anything TOO weird while they were alone. Seeing Yuma in bat form probably meant they were done. But then he looks to Vivia in shock noticing his left arm is covered in bloody self inflicted wounds.

“Vivia!? What happened to your arm?! Okay, what kind of crazy blood ritual did you two do this time?!”

Vivia gently places his right uninjured hand to where Yuma lay, and a soft weak sounding squeak came from the tiny little bat as he was touched. Yakou also settled his freakout down as he heard the weak bat’s cry.

“Yuma is…not feeling well so…I’m giving him only small amounts of my blood for now… But the blood of the cuts…don’t stay fresh forever…”

“Oh, I see… well that’s not good. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Just…leave Yuma to me, Chief…”

Yakou didn’t argue. After all, he had no idea how to care for a sick vampire.

“Okay, but don’t you dare die from blood loss, you hear me?!”

Vivia smiled without saying a word further.

It looked like it was now Vivia’s turn to look after and take care of his weak little vampire partner for the day. Time to repay the favor for all the times he looked after him.

~~~~~

#rain code #yuma kokohead #vivia twilight #yakou furio #kokolight #vampire au #pixelfics #sickfic #sicknario #vivia is my second caretaker of choice behind yakou for yuma #the size difference is way too good #yuma being tiny sickly and weak #and vivia being his tall protector #i just love it so much <3 #so I came up w this little idea #idk if this counts as a fic tbh its more like a summary #sorry if I got any vampiric lore wrong I admit im no expert #I have to put yuma through it again #who do you all think I am? x’D #vivia taking care of bat yuma like a person takes care of their sick pet #he’s your responsibility now vivia you can’t be lazy this time lol

[dinofelissnow1985]

I stuffed my Easter nest with presents for you.

Fitting the Celebrations, i worked a Resurrection

@silverryu25 @psycho-chair @therealesino @thegrinningkitten @theskeletongames @aoi-kanna @fineapplequeen @finally-free-fan-fics @flowerscentedartist @fanart-serenadebleue @sirsen @tacol0ser @swiftmitsu @skumhuu @skell-core @alexins

#undertale #sans au #nightmare sans #xtale cross #vampire #sickfic #SonnetTale

[kittybells-writes]

hellfur club

stranger things steve/eddie no archive warnings apply hurt/comfort + fluff

Steve was sitting in the chair located in the corner of the guest room of his house. He was on what his friends had been calling “Eddie Watch”, filling the time with various rock magazines that he had taken from Eddie’s trailer and Dungeons and Dragons books that the kids wanted him to read. He turned the page of Metal Edge, glancing at Eddie. Still fast asleep, his chest rising slowly as he rested. Eddie still looked too pale to be healthy. It was a little worrying to Steve, especially since Eddie had just spent a week in the hospital, but he had to assume that the hospital wouldn’t be able to heal Eddie properly from his time spent in the Upside Down anyway. He turned his attention back down to the magazine in his hands.

A few page turns and many more cautious glances up later, Eddie finally stirred a little. It took Steve a matter of seconds to put down the magazine he was flipping through, appearing by Eddie’s side. He did his best to hide his anxiety from Eddie.

“How’re you feeling?” Gently, Steve tucked Eddie’s hair behind his ear.

#kitty writes #stranger things #steddie #steve/eddie #werewolf steve harrington #vampire eddie munson #hurt/comfort #fluff #sickfic #whump

[tanzderalfred]

Herbert x Alfred sick fic is up!!!

#tanz der vampire #alfred tanz der vampire #graf von krolock #tanz der vampire das musical #count von krolock #herbert von krolock #fanfic #sickfic

[angstyaches]

ooh i would adore 5 from the emoji requests for elliot!🍄

Ask Game

Number 5 was this: 🤒🛌🥵🛀😵‍💫🤢🤮😭🆘

CW: fever, sickness, multiple caretakers, body horror elements, vampire whump, loss of control, emeto, fear.

Word Count: 3,000+

___

🤒🛌 

Felix patted his jacket pocket, satisfied that his keys were tucked in there. He glimpsed his reflection in the hallway mirror; his two stubby pigtails poked out from underneath his woolly hat, and he had his scarf pulled up to his top lip in anticipation for the outdoors. It hadn’t dropped below 12 degrees Celsius all month, but Felix and his bad immune system were taking no risks. He needed to be in a good condition to take care of Elliott. 

Elli, he thought, grimacing as he glanced towards the front door. He needed to get going, but... He turned and trotted back up the stairs to the first floor. 

He passed Shayne’s door first; he wondered if he should have asked his cousin to come and help him today, since Elliott was indisposed, but Ryan seemed to be subtly cracking down on how much time Shayne was spending outside of the townhouse lately. 

Which meant that even more outside-world errands rested solely on Felix’s shoulders today. 

He opened the door to his and Elliott’s bedroom and shuffled inside. 

He had only left him twenty minutes ago, but it still wrung Felix’s heart to see his poor darling sprawled stiffly on the bed, eyes squeezed shut as though it pained him to keep them closed, but would pain him more to open them. The duvet was folded and put on top of the dresser, since Felix couldn’t bear seeing it kicked into a tangled mess on the bedroom floor. Nobody had needed to take Elliott’s temperature to know that he was burning up; Felix was convinced he could feel his partner’s body heat in the very air in the bedroom.  

“He-ey,” Felix whispered as he tiptoed closer to the bed.  

A curt grunt was his only response. 

“Can I do anything at all for you before I leave?” 

Elliott nodded without opening his eyes or releasing any of the tension in his face. His voice was strained, as though he were carrying something heavy and struggling to keep his muscles from ripping. “Could you let in a little light?” 

Felix wrung his hands, but still paced his way over to the window. “Are you certain you’re a vampire?” 

A half-hearted grunt came from the bed. 

“It won’t aggravate the nausea?” Felix asked as he took the curtains in his hands. 

“No nausea right now. Just the damn fever.” Elliott heaved each word out as though it winded him just to talk, so Felix didn’t prod him for any more information. He made a gap in the curtains, just a couple of inches wide, so that the morning glare created a strip of light through the room. At its furthest point, it almost reached the bedroom door, and it drew a line over Elliott’s ankles along the way. 

As he approached the bed again, Felix smiled to see that the frown on Elliott’s face had softened just slightly. In fact, he found himself being studied up and down, the dimples in Elliott’s cheeks appearing. 

“You look very cozy.” 

Felix smiled, tucking his chin a little deeper into his scarf.  

“Could I trouble you for a kiss?” 

“Of course, darling.” Felix found himself slipping into a whisper again; Elliott hadn’t looked quite so peaceful in a long time, and it felt like something that might shatter if he wasn’t careful. 

“Come.” The command was as delicate as a rose petal touching water, and Elliott’s dimples pressed harder into his cheeks as Felix leaned over him.  

Between the bristles of Elliott’s untamed beard and mustache, his lips were startling warm against Felix’s, as though he’d just had hot stones pressed against them. The strangest thing was that these recent fevers didn’t seem to make Elliott sweat excessively; Ryan had tried to explain that throughout all of the biological changes happening within Elliott’s body, no external waste was being generated, or something along those lines. 

“Go,” Elliott sighed once the kiss ended. And, with an air of wistfulness, “Go, and be useful.” 

“Oh, you are so useful, darling,” Felix whispered, dropping one last kiss on Elliott’s lips. As he slid from the bed, Felix let his fingers trace Elliott’s exposed waist and drift along the ridges of his hipbones, the suggestiveness of the touch only slightly diminished by the fact that his hands were in gloves. “If you rest up, I’ll make... excellent use of you when I return home.” 

“Hmm,” was all that Elliott said in response, but the way he narrowed his eyes and pulled his lower lip inward was enough. 

“See you in a tad,” Felix said softly, turning to leave before he became too distracted to complete his tasks. 

“Bye, gorgeous.” 

___ 

🥵🛀 

Felix gasped when he stepped back into the bedroom that afternoon, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of the empty bed. The duvet was still folded and put aside, but the top sheet was rumbled and the pillows seemed to have been rearranged. 

“Fee.” 

His name being spoken through the left-side wall made him jump and almost drop his cinnamon tea latte. He skittered over to the bathroom door and pulled it open, expecting to be hit with a wave of steam that never came. 

“Hi, gorgeous.” The back of Elliott’s head faced the door, and the rest of him was stretched out inside a bath full of water. Literally – full. If Elliott had moved his arms or legs at all, he would have sent a wave over the side of the bath and onto the tiled floor. 

“You knew it was me.” 

“Full vamp hearing is kicking in,” Elliott sighed, slowly turning his head. He looked exhausted, his yellow irises devoid of their amber light, eyelids sluggishly low, beard still untamed. He met Felix’s gaze for just a few seconds before looking pointedly at the cup in his hand. “I could hear you sipping away at that thing from the driveway.” 

Felix blushed and propped his latte beside their toothbrushes so he wouldn’t be tempted to inflict any more slurping on his partner’s senses.  

“You decided to take a bath?” 

Elliott nodded. “Stupid fever wouldn’t let up.”  

Felix dipped a pinkie finger into the bathwater and yanked it back, shaking it dry. “Gosh, that’s nippy, darling.” 

“That would be the point.” 

Felix considered that for a moment, wishing he still had his warm cup in his hands. “Well, has it helped?” 

Elliott raised his eyebrows, blinking slowly. “You tell me.” 

Felix smiled and crouched next to the bath, knees almost touching the ceramic, and pressed the back of his hand to Elliott’s forehead. Next, he leaned in and kissed that exact same spot. “I would say you’ve regressed from fresh McDonald’s apple pie filling to... a slice of toast still just hot enough to melt butter onto.” 

Elliott let out a soft, sputtering laugh, wincing just a bit. “I don’t know what other kind of answer I could have expected from you, but somehow, it wasn’t that.” 

“You feel a little cooler,” Felix conceded. 

“No, no. Don’t you dare dumb it down for me.” Elliott’s voice was still sitting at a lower register, his expressions and movements slowed.  

His gaze drifted towards Felix’s lips, which prompted the smaller boy to lean in. The kiss was neither hot nor cold now, but soft and safe and familiar and him. 

As he pulled away, though, Felix’s heart sank with the feeling that Elliott had wanted the kiss to last longer than Felix had intended. He remembered the teasing banter he’d initiated earlier, and his guilt  

“Darling, since Shayne’s on lockdown, and... since you seem to be feeling stronger, I feel I should go and visit my mother. But I can stay if you –” 

Elliott’s head lurched to the side in confusion, his eyes narrowing to a squint, as though he were trying to decide if he’d forgotten something or not. “What – what do you mean, lockdown? What did he do?” 

“I don’t think he's done anything, I’ve just... I’ve been noticing Ryan acting strangely when it comes to him leaving the house...” Felix shook his head, all at once realising how silly it sounded. “I’m sure that it’s nothing. Perhaps he’s just been feeling unwell. Regardless, it has been a while since I saw my mother, so...” 

Elliot nodded. “Of course. You should go.” 

“I’ll be a few hours at most. Would you like a hand getting out of the bath?” 

“Nah.” Elliott shut his eyes and rested the back of his head against the wall. His feet were firmly placed against the opposite side of the bath; at least Felix could rest assured that he wasn’t in danger of slipping under the water. “I’m going to sit here a while longer.” 

___ 

😵💫 

Shayne wasn’t sure why he had started taking so many naps. He wasn’t particularly tired; how could he be, since all he seemed to do was sleep? Some small part of him knew that this probably wasn’t good, but he had a firm list of things he hated, and introspection was one of them, so he tried not to think too much about it.  

He tried, instead, to figure out why he’d woken up as he did, feeling jumpy and paranoid. He had a faint memory of hearing a thump in his sleep; had that been a dream, or in real life? 

Sharing a wall with Elliott and Felix was like living in a very weird version of Hell at times, so he was reluctant to go investigating. Then again, the two of them always kept an ear out in case he ever needed anything, so it’d be kind of shitty if he didn’t at least attempt to do the same. So he pulled himself out of bed and went to the next door down the hall. He grew self-conscious at the last second that he was wearing an oversized hoodie of Charlie’s, and that he probably very much looked like someone who’d just woken up, but forced himself to knock anyway. 

“El? Fee? Everything okay?” He waited a couple of seconds, convincing himself that the room beyond the door was empty and that the noise had been in his imagination the whole time. 

And then he heard the groan, low and pained and carrying his name with it, and he pushed open the door. 

At first, it looked as though Elliott had decided to just sit down in the middle of the floor in his boxers and robe. It almost looked like he was bowing his head because he was reading something out of his lap, but there was nothing there for him to read. 

And besides, Elliott had a lot of bizarre sitting habits, but sitting on the floor wasn’t one of them. Elliott would rather bend his knees and hover in place than sit on a floor.  

Knowing this, Shayne moved a little closer, anxiety like a horrible grip on his insides. “El?” 

There was not a stir, not a sound, from Elliott besides a meagre, “Mmhmm.” 

“Fuck,” Shayne whispered to himself, his voice breaking. He glanced around for any signs that Felix was nearby, but couldn’t pinpoint anything. “I, um... Should I get Ryan?” 

Fucking fuck. Elliott was in a slump on the floor, and Shayne still couldn’t make a decision without wanting to check with him first. Gritting his teeth, he stood up again, deciding... deciding he would go and get Ryan – 

“N-no, no, n-no.” Elliott’s hand reached out, not quite making it to Shayne’s ankle. “Don’t bother, man, sh-she... She told me this might...” 

Shayne frowned and crouched again. “She told you what?” 

“Told me fainting was part of it, so...” Elliott seemed to be gathering himself, raising his head to actually look at Shayne as he spoke. His palms were now braced against the floorboards, as though he were getting ready to push himself up. 

“You fainted,” Shayne heard himself say redundantly.  

“Just for a moment.” Elliott squeezed his eyes shut and puffed out his cheeks. “Whoo. Alright. Shit. No, no, no.” He started to swipe at Shayne’s hands as Shayne was trying to figure out how to help steady him. “I’m fine, I’m fine.” 

“Yeah, you’re the fucking picture of health.” 

Elliott’s face contorted with a wince as he shifted his weight. Shayne could have sworn a heavy shadow slid over Elliott’s body, there and gone in the blink of an eye. 

“Shit. What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing. Just... everything.” 

“Everything?” 

“Fucking god damn everything,” Elliott whispered, his voice quivering with mirth as he caught Shayne’s eye. His mouth twisted into a weak smile. “Yeah, maybe I could use a hand.” 

Shayne suddenly started to question how much help he would be, considering Elliott’s weight compared to his, but Elliott didn’t seem to have any qualms about it, so he didn’t complain. He held out both hands. 

As soon as Elliott tried to grab on, his flesh dissolved in front of Shayne’s eyes. It started with his hand, which flickered out of sight from the fingertips to shoulder, a swirling darkness pulling back over muscle and bone until those dissolved, too. And then, all at once, Elliott’s entire body burst into a swirling vortex of tiny, fluttering bats.  

The transformation only lasted a couple of seconds before Elliott reformed. He was still slumped on the floor, but his arms were folded and his fingers were digging into his biceps. 

Shayne withdrew his hands, fear thrumming in his veins. He swallowed, keeping his gaze on Elliott, and held out his hands again. Slowly, Elliott looked up at him. 

“Thanks,” he rasped, reaching for Shayne’s hands. 

Shayne’s shoulders ached a bit and he had to set his feet firmly, but he got Elliott upright in a few seconds. And then a breathless Elliott drooped down on the edge of his bed and cradling his head in both hands.  

Instead of asking about the sudden, unexplained transformation, Shayne settled on something else. “Where’s Felix?” 

“Nursing home.” 

“Oh.” He would have gone with Felix to see Trish, and the others, if he’d been able to. Instead of lingering on that thought, Shayne forced himself to focus on Elliott. “Can I... do anything?” 

Elliott shook his head, so that it rocked slowly back and forth within his cupped palms. His hair was wet and slicked forward over his face, obscuring his expression now. “You don’t have to stay in here.” 

Shayne’s brain took that and translated it to, You shouldn’t be here. He took a step back from where Elliott sat. “Okay. I’m going.” 

“Mmm,” Elliott murmured. 

Shayne returned to the door slowly, in case Elliott changed his mind and asked for help again, but he didn’t. He went back to his room, thinking he’d probably get back into bed if he didn’t think of something else to do within the next minute. 

___ 

🤢🤮 

Elliott’s body shuddered in the few-second intervals between transformations, which only seemed to be getting closer together. The worst part wasn’t the physical sensation of shifting in and out of corporeality, but the switching of his senses themselves. As himself, he had only one set of eyes, which he kept firmly shut, but as the swarm of bats, he had more eyes than he could count, and although he was in control of all of them, none of them moved with any kind of unity. 

It was making his head spin whenever it reformed on his pillow. 

“Shit,” he growled to himself, digging his fingers into his arms. Aside from submerging his body in the bath, provoking a little bit of pain seemed to be the only way to keep himself... himself. He was grateful that Felix hadn’t seen him like this, and although Shayne had seen it happen just once, there was no way he’d guessed that it was happening so sporadically. He hoped he hadn’t been too short with the kid when he’d just been trying to help – 

“Ah,” Elliott exclaimed, heaving a deep breath once his body had remained intact for longer than a few seconds. He clung to how heavy, how solid he felt, hoping he would manifest the ability to remain –  

“Hurrghh,” he gasped, leaping upright and casting his head over the edge of the mattress. He’d completely missed the build-up of nausea in his stomach, the tingling in his cheeks, the wobbly feeling in his limbs. He’d missed the chance to dread this, the heaving, the splattering, the loss of control – 

His stomach contents formed a star-like shape on the floor, and Elliott’s vision teetered out into a million points of view, his weight drifting up from the mattress, his senses overwhelmed with the frantic battering of a thousand tiny wings. When he reformed again, he was curled even further forward, arms pressed to his stomach and his eyes squeezed shut.  

He darted from the bed as fast as he could, making for the bathroom, but he dissolved against before reaching the door.  

😭🆘 

When he reformed, he was down on one knee, trembling, convulsing. He felt himself gag, his belly cramping and his back arching forward, but that seemed like the least of his problems when he literally couldn’t hold himself together.  

He disliked the fear that rose in him, so he shoved it down and brought it back up as anger, encouraging himself with a few muttered curses. He ground his teeth into his knuckles, pinched the back of his hand, anything to keep physical sensation alive. 

When he started to move again, there were tears running down his face, gusts of breathing ripping deeply through his chest, and his guts kept sinking like he was going to dissolve through the floor. He tried for a growl of defiance, but felt his meagre grip on himself slip again, his vision flashing in and out of darkness.  

“Shit,” he choked out, palms thumping on the floorboards as he reformed. He’d sagged forward, tears dripping between his fingertips, his anger no longer a strong enough shield against the fear. He sank backwards, turning a hand as he flickered into a swarm of bats again, and passed through the wall. 

“Get Ryan,” Elliott gasped, barely giving himself time to materialise on Shayne’s floor. He winced as he dissolved out and back in again, twice in quick succession. “I think I need help.” 

#StW Elliott #sickfic #vampire whump #vampire sickfic #whump fic #body horror #multiple caretakers #vampire sickie #vampire OC

[scarlet-ancunin]

✺𝔅𝔞𝔩𝔡𝔲𝔯'𝔰 𝔊𝔞𝔱𝔢 3 𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔏𝔦𝔰𝔱☆✺

Requests: Are Open

A/N: I don't mind writing about Acended Astarion However, I will Not do anything regarding being Abusive and/or Anything relating to it. I also believe that Spawn Astarion can turn into a bat soo~

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡

𝒜𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝒾ℴ𝓃 𝒜𝓃𝒸𝓊𝓃𝒾𝓃

You Love Me To - Oneshot

Bat Zoomies - Batstarian Hc

I'm Forever Healthy - Hc

My Dear Idiot - Oneshot

We Meet Again - Batstarion Oneshot

Spoiling My Little Love - Batstarion Hc

Was Being Foolish - Jealous/Insecure Hc

#request open #send me stuff #unhinged #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #bg3 #bg3 tav #bg3 durge #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion #batstarion #astarion ancunin #astarion ascended #spawn astarion #vampire #vampire spawn #astarion x oc #astarion x you #astarion lives rent free in my head #unhinged astarion simp #astarion one shot #astarion headcanons #astarion fluff #sickfic #astarion approves #astarion fanfic #astarion needs a hug #anon request #send request

[kathihtak00]

On your Doorstep (a BSD vampire AU)

No one had seen Dazai for two weeks. I wasn't unusual, sometimes he just did that.

What Chuuya didn't expect was for his partner to appear inside his apartment looking like he is about to die.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/44256610

#bsd fanfic #bsd dazai #bsd chuuya #soukoku #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #sickfic #bungo stray dogs #vampire #werewolf

[whumpshaped]

Beck being sick with the flu and Helle not caring?

-- @oliversrarebooks

this is actually something i wanted to write thank u for reminding me. well i mean just beck being sick in general, but yea we'll go w the flu, thats a bitch of an illness

coming back to add this after finishing: well this wasnt what i was going for, but apparently we unlocked some more tragic backstory

masterlist

tw some magic mind scrambling, but honestly?? not much- it's a sickfic, so fever dreams and the like... emotional whump, maybe- vampire carewhumper

Beck had never felt so sick in his entire life.

Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration, but this was definitely among the top five grossest illnesses he had ever come down with. His entire body was like a furnace, and yet he was shivering uncontrollably, even under two thick blankets.

He desperately wished there was someone to take care of him. He could barely keep his eyes open all day, could barely walk with the dizziness, the fatigue, and the muscle pain, and he couldn't even refill his water bottle periodically, let alone make himself some soup. He mostly just slept, slipping in and out of consciousness.

He'd considered calling his mother, briefly. She had always been so kind. Doting. She would've made him toast with honey and butter and cut it up into the smallest pieces for him to eat. He missed her a lot, he realised. But she couldn't come to his apartment after he'd made it so unsafe. He would just have to tough it out like an adult.

He knew there was no way Helle would just skip a visit. Skip dinner. They would barge in, rip the blankets away from him, and feed. He would just have to put up with it, as always, and maybe... maybe then, he could ask them to refill his water bottle. Would they actually do that? Or would they laugh and leave him to figure it out on his own? His eyes fluttered closed again, and he drifted into another two-hour nap.

"Oh, that is a sad sight. Oh dear..." Beck forced himself to look up, his unfocused eyes settling on the blurry outline of the vampire. He didn't have his glasses, and he was too tired to get them. "What do we have here?"

"'m sick," he croaked out, immediately made aware of his dehydration by how dry his throat and mouth were. "S-sorry."

Helle walked inside, and Beck had to close his eyes again. He was so exhausted. He'd done nothing but slept all day, and he could barely tolerate being awake for a minute. "I can see that," they said quietly. "Do you... have everything you need?"

"Water... I'm so thirsty, please..."

"Have you not drunk all day?" It almost sounded accusatory, in a way. Were they scolding him? He could hear Helle pick up his water bottle from the nightstand and leave the room, and he had never felt more grateful to them. He would've gone the whole night without drinking if they hadn't come, probably.

He tried to sit up against the headboard, but it proved more difficult than he anticipated. Especially with the two blankets; they were heavy, but Beck couldn't imagine being without them for even a second.

Helle came back with a full bottle of fresh water, sitting down on the edge of his bed without a word and gently helping him drink. They placed it on the nightstand afterwards, watching as Beck slid back down into a more horizontal position.

"Thank you," he said earnestly. Helle didn't even respond.

"Have you eaten?" He shook his head, and the vampire scoffed. "Alright." They stood up and left again, closing the bedroom door behind themself. Beck could pick out the faint sounds of a phonecall, but he had no idea what it was about. He fell asleep before Helle came back into the room.

For the next hour, he didn't even know what was or wasn't a dream. He felt something cold on his forehead, then also on his hand. He heard some gentle murmurs and whispers, too quiet to make out the words. He saw his mother for a split second, and he reached out towards her. The vampire, he wanted to say. Get out of here, mom. There's a vampire here. It's not safe. The image disappeared before he could've reached her.

"Beck," someone said softly, and he opened his eyes. "Come on, dear. Sit up."

Helle was holding a tray, but he couldn't really tell what was on it from where he lay. With great effort, he pushed himself up against the headboard again, letting the vampire please the plastic tray in his lap. There was a bowl of still steaming soup sitting on top, along with a cup of tea and some medicine.

"Where did you get the soup..?" he asked slowly, looking up at them in awe. Confused, definitely, but in awe.

"I ordered some. I took money out of your wallet." Well, that was a bit less considerate. Helle grabbed his glasses from the nightstand and handed them to him, then sat on his bed again. "Contrary to what you may be inclined to believe, I do not wish for my bloodbag's untimely death. So eat."

"It's just the flu," he mumbled, and he could've sworn he saw a flash of... something, in Helle's eyes. Anger? "I'm gonna be okay. But, but thank you. Really. I'm... I'm incredibly grateful for this."

They rolled their eyes and looked away from him, letting him eat his dinner in peace. They seemed restless, Beck noted while he sipped on his tea. There was a generous amount of honey in it, and for a moment, he wondered how Helle used to drink their tea back when they were still alive.

"Is... is something wrong?" he asked eventually, and Helle shook their head.

"Are you finished?"

"Yeah. Thank you."

They took the tray and disappeared, and Beck found he was feeling a little less dead with all that food in his system. His fever was still making him disoriented and hazy, but at least he could make a trip to the bathroom without feeling like he was going to pass out.

At some point during the night, he could feel Helle crawl into bed with him, pulling him flush against their refreshingly cold body. Half-asleep as he was, it didn't even freak him out a lot. It just felt good.

"You are way too warm," they murmured.

"'m sick," he responded, as though Helle didn't already know. Spurred on by a sudden burst of feverish courage, he took their hand and placed it on his face, enjoying the cool.

"You are so sick," they said insistently. "This can kill."

"The flu won't kill me."

"You have no way of knowing."

Beck frowned a little, unsettled by this sudden interest in his well-being. "Why are you so worried?" he asked quietly, hoping it didn't come off as too rude. He didn't mind the care. He wished Helle would care so much about him on the regular.

They didn't respond for a while. Beck was starting to think they never would, given they had already ignored the question once.

"I was going to die from it," they whispered, and Beck got the sense they might be holding back tears. It was a surreal image.

They didn't say anything else, but Beck could hear how their breathing changed. Helle frequently stopped breathing altogether, under normal circumstances, sometimes specifically to freak him out — now it felt like they couldn't stop drawing shuddering breaths one after the other, only stopping for brief moments as they... choked back sobs?

"Helle..?"

"They told me I was going to die," they went on. "We had no money to spare for medicine or- or doctors. Except one, of course. The mysterious faith healer Lady Marie Brandt, who offered her services to those in need; free of charge."

It wasn't too difficult to piece together what had happened. It was... frankly, terrifying. He was sure his own mother would've let in anybody who promised to heal him, had he been in such a dire situation. And to have that doctor turn out to be a vampire– he couldn't even imagine.

"Go to sleep, Beck."

He was knocked out cold by a sudden wave of magic, plunging him into a dreamless sleep for hours.

He woke up the next day feeling a lot better, and he let out a contented hum as he stretched out. As hellish as the previous day had been, he felt a little comforted by the idea that Helle cared. Maybe it would be worth it, in the end, if only for this piece of knowledge.

As he was making his morning cup of tea in the kitchen, parts of his dreams began popping into his head. Most of it was utter nonsense, and then... there was a conversation with Helle. Something about being sick.

He sat down at the table, warming his hands on the side of the cup and trying to focus on the dream. Of course, the more he chased it, the more blurry and incoherent it got, as was often the case with dreams. Still, he wished he could've remembered... Fever dreams were always a lot of fun to type into online dream interpreter sites.

Oh well. Maybe it would come to him later.

~

taglist: @whumpsday @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @delicateprincepaper @whumppmuhw @florissimps @nicolepascaline @oliversrarebooks @the-cyrulik @pirefyrelight

#at my beck and call #whump #whump writing #helle #beckett #vampire caretaker #?? #carewhumper #sickfic #emotional whump

[broke-art-girl]

"I'll always be here." By Broke_Art_Girl

Fandom: Being Human (US/Canada)

Summary: After Josh manages to become human again his life has been tough but Aidan, his vampire roommate, will always be there for him in times of need.

Words: 1,282

Characters: Aidan Waite, Losh Levison, Sally Malik

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47793322

~

As Aidan walked into the place he and Josh shared he was suddenly met with Sally's incorporeal form from the stairs.

"Earlier Josh rushed into the bathroom and started throwing up." Then she added. "I asked him what was wrong, but he can't see me now that he's human."

The vampire nodded, since becoming human again Josh had been so emotional.

Must be what happened with Ray. Maybe the tramas getting to him, I mean he did kill a guy. He thought.

Approaching the locked bathroom door Aidan heard the muffled sobs of his roommate.

"Josh?" He asked, softly knocking on the door. *Click* He heard as Josh's thin frame looked up at him from the floor.

"I tried eating, I can't keep anything down." He softly said in-between sniffs.

Aidan scooped him up into a tight hug. Josh never really got used to the temperature difference in them but he rested his head on Aidan's shoulder anyway.

Ever since Aidan had saved Josh from being attacked by bishops vampires, they had become best friends. And eventually after growing tired of pretending to be normal separately, they decided to try to be normal together. So they found a house, yeah it had bad plumbing, and it was a little dark, and their landlord thought they were a gay couple, but it was the one Josh wanted. And it didn't require a credit check.. so they moved in together.

"Besides the nausea, how you feeling?" Aidan asked quietly, stroking Josh's hair.

He gripped Aidan tighter as a response. "I'm just a little cold.."

Aidan looked down and noticed Josh was in just his house shorts, it was the middle of December.

"Josh-, why are you in shorts? You know this old house doesn't heat well."

Josh nodded. "I was sweating earlier, but now I'm cold.."

Aidan figured all the crying had gotten him sick, lucky for the vampire he knew just the right way to make him feel better.

"How bout a beer and a bath?" Josh perked up at this idea.

After running the warm water Josh climbed in and closed the shower curtain while Aidan waited outside the door. Once hidden from Aidan's eyes, he called, allowing them to still talk without Aidan seeing Josh's balls.

"Do you wanna talk about this?" Aidan asked, leaning against bathroom wall.

He could tell Sally was growing more and more worried by the creaking and rattling sounds coming from the pipes.

"You really worried us." Aidan heard Josh finally take a swig of beer as he swirled the soap bubbles around the sides of the tub.

"I did this for Nora, now she doesn't want anything to do with me." Josh cried scilently.

Josh hadn't been in a serious relationship since being turned that night when he went camping with Stu. He had to leave everything and everyone behind. Including his fiance, Julie. Ever since Nora ended it, Josh had taken it pretty hard.

Then Aidan suddenly heard yelling from Sally. She had made the promise of never appearing when the two were alone together.

She knew the two boys she asked if "were gonna go all twilight on each other" the first time they met had been through more than anybody should go through.

Their coping mechanism was each other.

"I know, you didn't know it would only cure you." Aidan felt bad he knew Josh wanted to be held but it would have to wait.

"Are you ever gonna leave? Like you've always wanted to be human. I don't want you to hold a grudge. I'm sorry... I don't wanna rub it in your face.. Do you want me to move out? Do you still walls be friends-"

"Josh please," Aidan scoffed at his now human roommate. "I wouldn't abandon you just because your going through something, I'll always be here."

"Never? You promise?" He asked weekly.

"I'll always be here. Always." Aidan returned

"Josh, Aidan? Are you two okay in there? I'm getting restless out here by myself!"

"We're fine Sally!" Aidan called back.

After the water got cold and the soap bubbles died, Aidan, after Josh toweled off and put on his pajamas, they nestled up together in the couch. Sally finally saw for herself the level of fine Josh was and calmed down herself. The flicked through the tv for a while only to decide to watch an old favorite movie of theirs. Josh snuggled with the muscly vampire. Aidan enjoyed the warmth of human skin, combined with the sound of his heart and sent of his blood.

Aiden's stomach began to rumble silently as Josh grew sleepy and began to relax into the vampire. He eventually had to excuse himself from the couch to microwave a blood bag in his go-to blue coffee mug. Josh somehow found it weird that after the curse was broken Aidan never had the craving, or even the curiosity for his blood. He had asked, or well, hinted, that he wouldn't mind feeding the vampire once-in-a-while. But Aidan always politely declined. But now with him being sick he was afraid to offer. What if Aidan caught it.

"Ya-know, you need to get laid!" Aidan yelled from the kitchen. The lack of context and suddenness from this both, embarrassed Josh, and made him laugh.

"Wouldn't you say, Sally?!" No. He wasn't gonna bring her into this was he?! Josh didn't know what she was gonna say, and couldn't defend himself.

"Yep stop masterbating to Nova!" Sally appeared as Josh looked around the room for the curly haired girl. "Your have no idea where I am do you?" Sally teased. She made the papers of a newspaper blow by Josh's ear to playfully scare him.

"Ahh!" Josh jumped up and gazed around the room. "Sally?! This isn't funny anymore, I have no clue what your saying, or where you are."

Aidan caught onto Josh's true fear. "Alrighty Sally, give Josh a break."

Aidan finished up his meal and brought Josh a Gatorade to replenish what electrolytes he lost during the day. Aidan walked them both up to joshes room the sent of werewolf still present. Aidan didn't want it lingering around, so he grabbed a random woodwick candle Josh kept them around for sleeping, he found the sound relaxing.

The scent titled "Paris café." The vampire had never been to Paris dispite his years on this world. He popped the 'Bath & Body Works' top off. Taking a sniff he smelt vanilla, coffee, and creme brulee. He struck a match and lit the wick. Placing it next to where the two of them lay on the side table. The crackles from the wooden wick soothing Josh as he melted into Aidan's cool, stone-like, chest.

they both snuggled into bed. Aidan took this time to whisper talk to his roommate.

"Ya know, I thought I was having a bad day at work yesterday," he joked as Josh nuzzled into his chest.

Josh always thought name tattoos were dumb, he wondered what brought Aidan to get 'Celine' who ever she was on his chest.

"I'm sorry," he whispered back. Aidan rubbed Josh's small arm with his thumb. "It's okay," he sighed. "I'd do it again in a heartbeat." Josh looked up in time to see him smile, a rare occurrence.

As the two boys curled together and dozed off to sleep Sally finally felt satisfied that Josh was really 'fine' as Aidan put it. She blew a bit of air to put out the candle and strolled off to watch the people walking the busy street in which they lived in front of.

#being human us #ao3 #fanfic #teen and up audiences #teen author #teen writer #aidan waite #josh levison #sally malik #sickfic #vampires #ghost #vampire #fanfiction

[whump-card]

Hark, ye binge readers! The first arc of my story, Sunless Lives, is now completely uploaded! Tune in for vampire whump, tender caretaking, sickfic, mutual pining, a drunken backstory reveal, a sweet ending, and more!

-> READ HERE! <-

#whump #whump fic #whump writing #sickfic #vampire whump #vampire whumper #h/c #hurt/comfort #caretaking #yes I'm going to be annoying about this

[thatvampireblog]

Okay, so mayyyyyybe I got a little behind on @cirrus-ghoulette's Whump month. Better late than never, right? Here's day 7: Fever

#ghost bc whump month #alpha ghoul #omega ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #papa terzo #papa emeritus lll #sickfic #unsanitary #not vampires #papaposting #my fic

[lestatslestits]

In the middle of the night, Daniel Molloy investigates a sound he would rather not know the source of, and uncovers a side effect of vampirism that Louis would rather not talk about.

Yeah I don’t know what this is. Uhhhh. Enjoy!

(Warnings are in the tags and the author’s note, do mind them, please! Everything is pretty vaguely described, but proceed with caution if any of the content could be potentially upsetting to you.)

#iwtv #amc interview with the vampire #daniel molloy #louis de pointe du lac #iwtv fic #iwtv tv #iwtv series #sickfic #technically? #i guess #daniel’s pov #takes place between episodes 2 and 3 #not louisdaniel #not NOT louisdaniel #but a secret third thing #this is not the fic i imagined writing as my first foray into this fandom #if this contradicts anything in canon no it doesn’t #hope that helps