you're burning up

💉Snow💉autistic💉she/they💉kinky bastard💉I like whump, medical aesthetic,&sickfics (also my ocs and various other kinks)💉no fandom content just my ocs 💉 likes/follows from another blog

[sicklysnow]

new whump/sickfic blog :]

hiii, call me snow (she/they), I'm a new oc sickfic blog ! I'll be writing fics, prompts, and drawing whump content !!

the kind of topics I'll do on this blog r:

-emeto

-whump

-angst

-sickfics

-snz

-scat

-eprocto

-other stuff idk I have a lot of interests ;) basically anything involving a fictional boy not feeling well is my thing

[warmblanketwhump]

!

!: that classic collapse into someone’s waiting arms

It takes everything in A's power to keep their eyes open at their desk. Their head is pounding, and their vision swims and creates a sickly swirl of nauseating color. Their computer screen might as well have hieroglyphics on it, and they groan and weakly rub their eyes.

Just 4 more hours. Then it's the weekend, and you can go home and lay down for 48 hours straight.

It was a nice plan in theory. Unfortunately, their theory didn't count on three other team members deciding that today would be a good day to get sick, too. Which meant that they were currently staring at an enormous pile of paperwork that had to be done by the end of the day, and their shaking hands could barely hold a pen.

“Planning to kill an entire forest before the weekend, A?" B, another manager in their department (and endless thorn in their side) leans on the doorway, impish smile tugging at the corner of their lips. A is in no mood for it.

"Lay off, B. I'll save the trees next week." They chafe their arms and suppress a shiver, eyes searching their office for their jacket. “Why is it always so damn cold in this building?”

"You feeling alright, A?" The smile stays, but a flash of concern flits across B's face.

"Peachy. It's just chilly in here.” And in the conference room, and in the break room. And there’s only so many times you can go warm up your hands under hot water before they completely dry up and you can’t type anymore.

“Heard the flu was going around in our department. Just didn’t know if you were next on its hit list.”

A rubs their itching eyes again, aggravating the sensitive, swollen skin beneath them. “Don't you and your team have some big project to finish?"

"Deadline got pushed to next week. Figure I'd make the rounds and see if anyone else was slacking off like us."

"Stellar. Well, some of us have work to do, so if you don't mind….”

A moves to usher B out of their office, but they sway as they stand and grab the edge of their desk. A chill floods their body from head to toe, making every hair on their arms stand up, and the angles of the room suddenly don’t conform to the laws of geometry.

“A, the color of your face just went from technicolor to silent film. Seriously, sit down.”

A motions to step toward B and shove them out of their office, but their feet don’t quite get the memo. They take one stuttering step that's more like a lunge and open their mouth, but no sound comes out, and they’re falling, falling…

The last thing that registers with their brain before losing consciousness is a feeling of being caught.

When they come to, they’re horizontal on the small couch in their office. Their shoulders are draped with their own jacket, while their legs are covered with an unfamiliar blazer.

“Where….where’d you find this?” A mumbles, pulling their precious jacket tighter around their shoulders.

“Your jacket? In the break room. Where all good jackets go to die.” B’s seated at A’s desk, sleeves rolled up, making steady progress on the stack of files in front of them. “You were shaking like a leaf for a minute there, so I figured I’d contribute mine to the cause, too.”

A’s head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton, and they try to make sense of what they’re seeing and where things left off before they fainted. “B….I gotta get up. Those files, they need-“

“-to be taken care of by someone who doesn’t have the plague. I pulled a few willing volunteers from my team, and we should have this done in an hour or so.”

Tears prickle at the corner of A’s eyes. Of all the people they’d expect to come through for them, B had been the last person on their mind. But it's B. There has to be some ulterior motive. So they do the only thing they know how to do – shoot back.

“Calling a ceasefire on your mission to bug me to death, then?”

“A, if you were paying any attention, you’d know that was never my goal. But seeing as how you’re nearly oblivious with fever, I’ll let it slide.”

A blinked twice, slowly, information trickling like molten lava into their brain. None of this made any sense.

“What...what do you mean?”

“A, it’s not that deep.”

“But I don’t get-“

“I’m trying to be your friend.” It comes out exasperated, but A can see the slight blush of embarrassment. “All you see me as is your nemesis. And if that’s all I get, then fine. But just know I'm open to more than just fighting with you."

B stops short and turns back to their paperwork, suddenly aware that they've said more than they intended.

A’s suddenly seeing their coworker in a whole new light - all the harmless jabs become veiled compliments, all the “stolen work” that got taken off their plate right when they were stretched to the limit, and the pranks never really hurt them - just made them laugh. Their throat tightens. What had they missed all this time?

"B?" A's voice is barely above a strained whisper. B looks up again.

"Will you...take me home? After work? I don't think I can drive."

B smiles softly. "Of course I will."

"And B?"

"Rest your voice, A"

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it. Although if you do want to be friends, can we solidify it before I inevitably get this flu? I'm gonna need some help when that happens."

A snuggles deeper beneath the jackets, a smile tugging at their lips. "Consider it a done deal, then."

[allthewhumpygoodness]

✈

✈: reaching out for someone [bonus points if they mumble! their! name!]

It's the third day that B has been sick, and by now C can tell they aren't going to get better for a while.

At least now they're sleeping. Their breath wheezes slightly even in their sleep, and once in a while they shuffle onto their other side and mutter something incomprehensible, but for the most part they've been resting quietly for the past hour or so. C has plenty to work on, but they don't want to leave B in case they wake up and need something. Instead they drag a chair over by their sleeping friend's bed, open up the book they've been working through and begin to read.

They're easily distracted. Every small sound B makes in their sleep makes C look up, watching them carefully for a few moments in case they wake. But they always go back to sleep, their breathing slow and even.

C gets through a chapter, then another. It's getting dark by now, the sunlight finally gone from the window. They switch on the bedside lamp, their heart stinging a little at just how pale their sick friend looks in the yellow light.

When it's been dark for a few hours, they hear a faint whimper from the crumpled form in the bed. B's brow is furrowed in their sleep, sweat beading on their forehead. They whimper again, turning restlessly onto their back. A weak cough escapes them, followed by a groan.

C puts down their book and reaches for B's limp hand, holding it tight in their own. "Hey," they say softly. "You're okay. You're with me."

B's eyes flicker open, red rimmed and dull. "C?" they mumble. "You're still here?"

"Of course I am. I told you I was going to take care of you, and that's what I'm doing."

"But..." they seem confused. "When...when are you leaving?"

"I'm not leaving," C says patiently. "I'm staying with you until you're a little better, remember?"

"Oh." B's eyes flutter shut, another round of coughs shaking their frail form. They're rattling, painful sounding coughs, and C winces in sympathy. "Water," they croak. "Can...can I have some?"

"'Course you can. I have some right here." C helps them sit up, which mostly entails B clinging tightly to their shoulder, and help them sip some cool water. "There you go," they say. "That feels better, doesn't it?"

B gives a weak nod, then shuffles back down into their blankets, shivering slightly. One shaky hand creeps out of the blankets and paws at C's wrist. "Stay with me? Please? Don't go yet."

C sits down again, on the edge of the bed this time, holding their friend's hand once again. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise. You just rest some more, okay?"

B mumbles something inaudible into their pillow, and in seconds they're asleep again. C runs a hand through their hair, brushing damp strands away from their forehead. It might be a while before they're better, and B knows they aren't the most experienced at taking care of people, but it's something. And at least it makes them feel better, knowing their friend isn't alone and miserable all at once. They tuck B's blankets up to their chin, rubbing their back gently through the covers. The hold on their hand tightens unconsciously. Even if they did want to leave now...they couldn't.

[warmblanketwhump]

✿ + ✈

✿: feeling so out of it, they need constant attention

✈: reaching out for someone [bonus points if they mumble! their! name!] 

When A blinks awake, they're not sure what day it is or where they are, and they need to take a minute to remember that no, they are not long-lost Spanish royalty or a rare tree frog like their fever dreams had purported.

"Back to the land of the living?" B's face appears in their field of vision. A's lips are parched, and they can barely string together words.

"Where....where'm I?" A mumbles weakly.

"My place. You passed out at C's, remember? But they already have a bunch of people staying over after the party. So for now, you're stuck with me." B reaches to ruffle their hair and adjust their blanket.

A tries to form words, to apologize for B having to miss out on C's annual party, but their brain feels like a scrambled mess. "What....wrong?"

"With you? Our best guess is you got whatever C's roommate had last week. So buckle up, because it'll be a couple days before you feel like you again." B rubs their shoulder, casually brushing their hand across A's cheek to check their temperature. "Yep. That's a fever right there."

A moans, bringing their knees to their chest. Every muscle aches, their shivery insides feel like Jell-O in an earthquake, and they can't decide if they're burning up or freezing. And they're so, so thirsty.

"Water?" they croak weakly. B pulls a glass from the side table and cradles their head to help them sip with a gentleness that betrays their lighthearted bedside manner.

"Easy, there. Take it slow. We've got time." The cool water is absolute bliss, cut off only because A accidentally inhales some of it, which triggers a coughing fit. B pulls A further upright, patting their back as they wheeze. The cough is deep and heavy, and B's brows furrow with worry as they listen.

"Let's get you something for that." B leaves A sitting up, and comes back with a small bottle of medicine to help their cough. A chokes it down, chasing it with more water and collapsing back down into the pillow. They wrap their arms around themselves, and try to still the chatter of their teeth so B won't see how cold they are. But there's no such luck.

"A, I know you're cold. That's how fevers work. I know it's dumb, but you don’t have to hide it. I've got more blankets if you need them." A nods, and B pulls a quilt from a stack of blankets on the corner and spreads it over them. The edges of A's vision blur, and they're barely aware of B tucking them back in before they slip into an uneasy sleep.

These fever dreams are anything but restful - twisted nightmares and grotesque figures and melting walls and wax figures and faces. They're helplessly dragged through a house of mirrors, disoriented and confused and just plain scared.

When a dark figure jumps out and grabs them, A wakes to the sound of their own hoarse scream. Their forehead is beaded with sweat, and their clothes and sheets are completely soaked through. In the darkness, the only things they're aware of are the feverish chills rattling their entire body and the hoarse wheezing of their worn-out lungs. Without thinking, they cry out B's name in the night. They yell it again. And again.

"What’s wrong, A?" B flips on the table lamp and squints, rubbing the sleep from their eyes. It's all A can manage to shake their head, raise two trembling hands towards B, and whisper B's name again, tears trickling down their cheeks. In two swift steps, B gathers a shivering A into their arms and holds them tightly, stroking their soaked hair and whispering comforting words in A's ear.

“Shhhhh. I know you’re scared. It’s okay. I’ve gotcha,” B murmurs as A curls even closer to their chest.

After a few moments, A shudders, the sweat wicking all the extra heat from their body. B helps A slip out of the soaked clothes and wraps them in a blanket before changing the sheets, their easy conversation lulling A into relaxation.

“Don’t you worry, A. We’ll get these sheets taken care of and get you warmed up again. Well, maybe not warmed up - I think the fever’s got that taken care of. But we’ll at least get you feeling drier, which will help out with those chills. No one likes soaked sheets, I can tell you that right now. Did I ever tell you…”

A leans heavily on the wall and dozes as B chatters on, and is only barely aware of B slipping dry, warm clothes back on them and helping them into bed. B smooths down A’s damp hair, and A slides their fingers around B’s wrist.

“Stay?” A whispers, pleading.

B smiles and climbs over A, nestling themselves under the blanket and wrapping their arms around A as they pull A's head to their chest. A snuggles into B, and for a moment neither of them say anything.

“Sor….Sorry you missed…..party,” A mumbles, but B just squeezes them tighter.

“Hey, hey, don’t apologize. You know I’d rather hang out here with you anyways,” B chuckles softly, tugging the blanket tighter around the pair and rubbing A’s aching shoulders. A smiles and squeezes back, and slips into an easy, dreamless sleep.

[warmblanketwhump]

request from @allthewhumpygoodness

✓: waking up either adorably confused or painfully scared

A stumbles through their doorway in a daze, wet coughs rattling their chest. The tickle in their throat had evolved to an awful, sandpaper feeling that afternoon, and their head was pounding with every step they took.

With trembling fingers, they pull out their phone and shoot a text to B: lol guess who’s sick again

B's reply pings back: let me guess - you? ;)

This was their third cold this fall - their immune system sucked. The first two times, they’d toughed it out alone - dragging themselves to the kitchen to microwave canned soup, choking down medicine, burying themselves under blankets. They’d nursed themselves back to health in a couple days, certain that no one had even seen that they’d been gone.

But B noticed their most recent bout, and brought them extra tissues, a box of ginger tea, and a sympathetic half-smile the day A came back to work. A had gratefully accepted the gift but waved off the concern, assuring them that while they appreciated the gesture, they really were fine.

Still….this time, they figured it couldn’t hurt to let someone know. Just in case they wanted to check in on them. Feel their forehead and brush away the damp hair. Bring them medicine and warm tea to soothe their raw throat. Tuck an extra blanket around them when the chills hit.

Stop being so needy, you wimp. No one has time to look after you.

A shiver shakes their body, and they cough again, rousing themselves out of their longing pity party. No one was coming to save them. And it was okay. Really. They had taken care of themselves before, and they could do it again. A hot shower and a day or two of rest, and they’d be good as new.

They shed their work clothes and step into the the shower, huddling as the frigid air of the bathroom melds with the warm steam. Even after 30 minutes in scalding water, the low-grade chill still won't leave their bones. So they dry off, wrap up in a blanket, and prepare to ride it out.

By that evening, it’s clear that this is not just a cold. They’re huddled under three blankets in bed, their aching head burning with fever, and every joint feels like it’s on fire. Their throat is hoarse from near-constant coughing deep within their chest. A licks their parched lips, weighing whether they have enough energy to drag themselves out from under the covers for a cup of water. And they're still freezing, so deeply cold that it feels like their entire body is made from ice.

Not even a the idea of a hot shower can persuade them to stand up, and A settles for curling into the fetal position, hugging themselves. Still, they shake, unable to get warm enough. They sniffle weakly, feeling stupid and helpless and so, so weak, barely able to lift their head. They need warmth, water, medicine, a hand to hold –

No, this wasn’t a cold at all. This was bad.

Suddenly, after hours of chills, a welcome rush of heat floods their body, and they kick the covers off the bed. The sweat soaks their sheets as they sprawl out, momentarily grateful for the feeling of any kind of warmth. The oppressive heat knocks them into a thin sleep, and they let their eyelids flutter shut.

They're in their room, lying on their bed and unable to move, tied down by some immovable force. In the corner of the room, a shadowed figure stands, holding a candle close to their chest. A tries to call out to them, but they stand in the shadows and refuse to come any closer. In the corner of the room, they touch the flame to a pile of papers, and A's room erupts into a blaze.

The room spins and bends, and soon A is hearing the walls whisper and laugh and scream and warp as they curl and melt to the ground. Panicked tears stream down their face, pooling on the pillow as twisted images hurtle through their delirious mind, smoke flooding their lungs, flames licking at the foot of their bed. They’re utterly terrified, locked in place by their aching body. It's coming closer now, and they're screaming with all they've got, but no sound comes out. The dark figure comes closer, closer, reaching a hand toward them, and they beg their body to move one last time –

“A. C'mon now, A. Wake up. It's just a dream. Please, wake up.”

A tenses as they blink awake, their heart racing as the dark something shakes their shoulder. Panic sets in, and they twist away, a surge of adrenaline causing them to shoot up and press against the wall behind their bed. "Get away! Go! It's burning!"

"A, it's me, B. It's just me." The soft lamplight smooths the foreboding edges of the figure, and A can see them bending closer, their quiet voice laced with urgency. A still can't speak, fear gripping their voice and holding it hostage, their heartbeat pounding in their chest.

“I called you a couple hours ago to see if you needed anything. But you didn’t answer, and I got worried.” B comes in and out of focus, and A can see the furrowed line between their eyebrows, the soft compassion in their eyes as they cautiously sit at the edge of the bed. B bites their lip as they gently lay their cool hand over A’s feverish forehead. "A, you’re burning up."

A’s breathing slows, and they wrap their arms back around themselves, leaning into B’s touch. B strokes their hair and keeps their hand pressed to A’s forehead. The sweetness of the gesture cracks something open in A, and a sob slips out.

“A,” B starts, hesitantly, “who’s looking after you?”

With that single question, all pride leaves A and they swallow hard as a rush of loneliness overwhelms them. “There’s…no one. You’re the only one.” The chills are back now, freezing the sweat on their skin and rattling their bones and teeth so hard they’re scared they’ll break. A whispers a soft, pitiful plea as they hold out a single trembling arm to B: “C-could you hand me a b-blanket? Please? I’m c-cold.”

A expects B to toss the blanket their way. Instead, B gently wraps it around their shoulders and gathers the shivering, sweat-soaked bundle of a human in their arms, enveloping them in the warmth that only another person can provide. It’s then that A truly lets themselves fall apart.

The next couple hours are a blur. When the fever spikes B is there, adding blankets and holding A in their arms to ease the shakes and warm their frozen bones. When A can hardly speak because their throat is shot from coughing, B miraculously procures honey lemon tea to soothe it and props them up to help them sip it. When the nightmares come back, B is there to shush their sobs and rub their back, encouraging them to breath through the hacking and coughing.

A still feels awful. But having B here...it's made it better. So much better. Every time they wake up, B is there. And they're scared of waking up the next morning with B gone and having to fend for themselves alone the next day. But exhaustion steals the worry away, and they fall asleep before they can timidly ask B to stay.

When they wake up, they're enveloped in warm, solid arms, and it takes a moment to register the unusual feeling. They nestle closer towards the warmth before it hits them that no, this is not how they usually wake up. Tilting their head up, they see B, blanket half over their shoulders, holding them, eyes heavy with sleep. They're still here?

B sees A staring down at them, and gives them a small smile.

"That was a rough one. Think you can handle a little soup this morning?"

A can’t answer the question, because they’re still thinking about a different one. “You stayed all night?”

B shrugged a nonchalant shoulder. “‘Course I stayed. Wasn’t going to let you fight off those monsters all alone, was I?”

A tells themselves the sudden lump in their throat is just a byproduct of their flu, and clears their throat. “I…thank you. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you. You didn’t have to do that.”

“A, trust me. I wanted to do it.” They brush back A’s damp hair and squeeze them, and A feels like they’ve melted into a puddle. This is all they’ve ever wanted when they were sick - no, it’s more than they could have asked for. They shift and snuggle closer, eyes drifting shut again, hand finding B’s fingers.

“5 more minutes,” they mumble contentedly. “Then let’s talk about soup.”

[allthewhumpygoodness]

This honestly made my whole damn day what

[allthewhumpygoodness]

The ice held when their friends crossed over just fine, but a sudden deep crack sounds out just beneath A's feet when they're almost at the shore. The next thing they hear is B's scream, and before they can even cry out they're encompassed in frigid water, too shockingly cold to struggle, their brain itself freezing up. It's black all around them and they can't breathe, and the last thing they think is that they should try to swim upwards - but they don't have the strength to complete the thought before everything swirls away.

The next thing they know, they're soaked to the bone and their chest is on fire, their whole body wracked with violent coughs. They try to sit up but the frozen ground tilts and a pair of hands holds them firmly down, laying them on their side while they retch up the last of the water in their lungs.

They can't breathe. They can't breathe. They can't breathe.

Finally they manage to gasp in some air, though their lungs are raw and burning, like someone's shredded them to pieces. A hand rubs their shoulder and they hear a voice saying, "breathe, baby, you're okay. You're okay. Just keep breathing."

Somehow, they manage to.

The next moments are a blur. A is so deeply cold they can't do anything but lie there and shiver, occasional coughs still shuddering through them. Someone lifts them from the ground and the next thing they know they're being carried...then they're sitting up somewhere warm - a car? - and a familiar voice is near them, a comfortable shoulder to lean on...they're being carried again and then there's more coughing, more pain, more violent chills as someone strips them of their wet clothes, hushed voices around them while every inch of them burns...they aren't sure exactly when, but eventually they pass out completely.

A crackling sound reaches their ears first, and for a moment they let themselves drift in the new warmth that's enveloped them, not trying to think of what happened or where they might be.

But soon their brain is more awake, whether they want it to be or not. When they lift their heavy eyelids they can see the warm glow of a fire nearby, the edge of a thick quilt pulled over them. The cushions of a couch are beneath them, a pile of heavy blankets on top of them, encasing them all around in warmth. It's all they can do to keep themselves from drifting back to sleep.

A blurry but familiar figure sits at the end of the couch. B. They feel like they've jumped forward in time, but they remember the fall into the frozen lake, this friend and another being there.

They feel a hand on their ankle. "Hey, honey. You're awake?"

They nod. Even that is difficult.

B comes closer to them, concern written all over their face. "How are you feeling? You must be exhausted."

"Yes," A croaks. "Warm, though."

B gives a small smile. "That's good. It's a miracle we were able to pull you out in time - if we hadn't..." they trail off, but A's heart grows icy cold at the knowledge of what they were about to say.

B's voice stumbles over the next part. "When...when C pulled you to the shore...you weren't breathing, for a minute. They hit you hard on the back a few times and that seemed to help clear out your lungs, but...you scared us, A."

It takes a second for what B said to land, and when it does A almost stops breathing all over again. "I...I died?"

B's hand squeezes their shoulder. "No. I mean, your heart was still working, it wasn't like that...it was only for a few seconds. And you're okay now."

But it still hits them like a cannonball, the undeniable realization of just how close to dying they came. For a second they can't say anything at all, and then to their horror they feel tears creeping into their eyes.

"A?" Their friend's voice is gentler than they've ever heard it. "Are you okay?"

They nod, trying to blink the tears away. "It's just...I almost died."

And with that the sobs finally hit them, maybe they've wanted to let them out since they first fell in that lake hours ago, and it feels like a dam has broken somewhere inside them, spewing everything out. Their formerly waterlogged lungs ache worse than ever and they feel the place in their back where C hit them in a desperate attempt to save their life, as sore as if they'd fallen on jagged rocks.

B's arms go around them and they hear their murmured shushings and reassurances, they're too worn out and shocked and in pain to do anything but let everything out right there on their friend's shoulder.

Eventually their tears slow to a halt, a few sniffs now and then. B's arms release them and lie them back down against their pillows, pulling the many covers over them once again. "It's okay, A," they say softly. "You just rest, we're going to take good care of you. We'll both be around if you need us."

A nods, too embarrassed by their outburst to look B in the eyes. A soft hand brushes the hair from their forehead. "I'll be nearby, I promise. It's all over now, you're going to be all right."

And though they feel their mind is still half in shock, their body still not sure how to exist after what it went through, for a moment they believe it.

[hae-meto]

Someone on twitter requested me to draw a couple on a date but one of them hides the fact that they don't feel well and gets caught by their partner so here it is :)

A: Your face is red? Are you sure you're alright?

B: It's probably just heatstroke from walking

~at the movie theater~

B: (The food isn't going down.....)

B: (ugh... I might throw up)

B: (dizzy... the bathroom...)

A: *followed him out*

A: Are you okay?!

B: ugh... I'm so dizzy...

[vhsmeme]

* hurt prompts

‘ are you bleeding? ’

‘ take it easy. you hit your head. ’

‘ where does it hurt? ’ 

‘ sit still and let me take a look! ’

‘ how did you get that black eye? ’ 

‘ you should see the other guy. ’ 

‘ did i say you could get out of bed? ’

‘ that’s going to leave a bruise. ’

‘ i’ll get some ice. ’ 

‘ that’s what you get for picking fights. ’

‘ are you trying to give me a heart attack? ’

‘ what’s wrong with you? ’

‘ you can barely stand. ’

‘ did you throw the first punch? ’

‘ that’s a nasty bump. ’

‘ get in the car. you’re going to the hospital. ’

‘ at least bandage it. ’ 

‘ no, you’ll get an infection. ’ 

‘ wet floor signs are there for a reason, you know. ’

‘ you’re lucky. that icicle could’ve killed you. ’

‘ where’s your gratitude? i rescued you! ’

‘ i’m calling the nurse. ’

‘ was that stupid dare worth it? ’

‘ what happened to you? ’

‘ sit down. i’ll make some hot chocolate and fix you right up. ’

‘ are those bandages? ’

‘ you need stitches. ’

‘ look out for that tree branch. ’

‘ i’ve got you. just stay awake. can you do that for me? ’

‘ lean on me. ’

‘ you got two choices: let me carry you, or die out here. take your pick. ’

‘ shit, you’re burning up. ’  

‘ you’re not dying. it’s only a sprained ankle. ’

‘ lie down. ’

‘ i’m sorry. i know it hurts. here, hold my hand. ’

‘ you’re in no condition to be walking around. ’

‘ wake up! wake up! ’

‘ i don’t feel sorry for you. ’

‘ look at your face! ’

[warmblanketwhump]

inspired by this post (and if i'm honest, @allthewhumpygoodness's tags too)

They wake with a moan in the darkened room, roused by the sound of frozen pellets pelting their window. Their throat was burning, and they pulled their comforter up to their chin with a shiver.

They hadn't wanted to go out last night - late, wild nights were meant for balmy summer weather, not cold, rainy November evenings spent bouncing on your toes in the rain, waiting to get inside a club. But their friends had begged them to come. So, not wanting to be the killjoy, they dutifully tagged along, ignoring the persistent tickle in their throat and the ache in their joints as they darted through the downpour between each hotspot.

It wasn't until they crawled under the covers at 2 am, hair wet, bones somehow chilled through and on fire, that they wondered if they may have made a mistake.

Another shiver wracks their body - why is it so cold in here? Their head feels like lead, and breathing too deeply sets off a fit of deep coughs that rattle their congested chest. They drag themselves out from under their blankets - maybe a hot shower would help. They stumble into the bathroom and fumble for the switch, but the light remains stubbornly dark.

Shaky fingers turn the knob and they step into the spray, but they only get about a minute of hot water before the shower turns lukewarm, then icy cold. Of course. The power's out. No electricity. No water heater. No hot water. It was a simple sequence of thoughts, but their brain refuses to order them properly until they were already standing under a frigid stream.

They turn off the water, trembling, barely able to dry themselves off because they're shaking so badly. Their head spins with things they know they should do (take their temperature, take some medicine, drink some water) but the power's out and they're freezing and everything hurts and all they want to do is lay down and get warm.

The frigid air of their apartment prickles goosebumps on their skin, and they fumble with a pair of flannel pants, thick socks, and a sweatshirt before collapsing back under the covers into a curled-up ball. Still they shiver, unable to warm up.

Their swimming brain wades through all the things they can’t do without power: no hot cup of tea to wrap their cold fingers around and soothe their sandpapered throat, no inching the heat higher, no steamy shower to warm their bones and clear their sinuses, and no TV to distract them from how awful they felt. And their phone was dead from the night before, so there wasn’t any way they could call for help. (Not that they were planning to bother anyone with their illness - but losing the choice somehow made things more terrifying.)

This was going to be a long day.

Despite the fever, the cold seems to come from inside them, and they can’t stop the chatter of their teeth. They pull blanket after blanket over their body, but they only feel the crushing weight instead of the warmth they crave. Each deep breath makes them cough until they gasp. Time swirls and the room spins - they could have been laying there for ten minutes or ten hours. But a knocking at the door rouses their fevered brain. Slowly, achingly, they pull themselves out of bed, coughing and dragging a blanket from the pile to wrap around their febrile body.

Standing is too tall an order. So they settle for crawling on hands and knees, inching closer and closer to the knocks that increase in urgency and volume. They can hear a muffled voice calling out to them, but the words blur together. They fumble with the doorknob and unlock their door before reflexively curling up on the floor, their body protesting against the loss of heat.

So they don’t see their slack-jawed friend, bundled from head to toe, staring at their bedraggled form. But they do feel the cool touch of a hand brushing their hair off their forehead, and the gentle arms that cradle around their quivering shoulders.

“Oh god…you’ve been stuck here all day without any heat?” Their friend lays a gentle hand to the side of their neck, feeling the swollen lymph nodes, before lightly tracing their fingers up to feel their forehead. “And you’ve got a fever. Why didn’t you call one of us?” Their friend tries to sound stern, but it’s impossible to miss the slight waver in their voice – they were scared.

"Phone died," the sick one croaks weakly, which spirals into another round of choking coughs. Their friend sighs, rubbing their back until their breathing slows. "We heard the power was out, and you weren't picking up. I didn't know if..." their friend trails off, and squeezes their shoulder. “But you can’t stay here. You’re coming back with me - we’ve got power and everything.”

They try to protest that they’re fine, they’re managing okay, but all that slips out is a weak whimper. They’re just so tired, cold, and achy, and they don't know how to ask for help. Their friend pulls them closer into a hug, and they curl into the warmth.

“Y’know I’m not mad, right?," their friend whispers. "I just hate to see you like this. We all love you, you know.” Another ache builds in their throat as they take in the words they've desperately longed to hear, but were too scared to even consider thinking in case they weren’t true.

In minutes they’re bundled into their winter coat and two blankets, their friend mindlessly chatting about the ice storm, how it’s knocked out power in half the city, how it’ll likely take days to get everything working again. Another friend had lost power too, so they were staying together in the house until things were sorted out.

In the car, their friend turns down the music and blasts the heat as they slowly creep across town, dodging the fallen poles and gently sliding at stop signs. Before long they arrive at their friend's house - a tiny, cozy thing with a fireplace and a little porch - and they can see three of their other friends huddled by the window, waiting anxiously.

It's a blur of activity that they're barely conscious of - the sudden warmth of a heated home, friends' worried voices – you found them like this? poor thing must be freezing, don't worry, we've got you – steady hands helping them out of their jacket and back into the bundle of blankets, gently guiding them to the couch in front of a crackling fire. Moments later a cup of hot tea is pressed into their hands, along with a dose of medicine that they choke down. As their eyelids slip closed, they're vaguely aware of a hand pulling up their blanket, tucking them in, gently stroking their hair.

They're still exhausted, and their fever hasn't broken, and their body still aches – but the fear is gone, replaced by an overwhelming feeling that no matter what happens, they've got people who care about them. And that's enough.

[warmblanketwhump]

there’s no comfort quite as pure as someone wrapping a towel or blanket around someone who’s soaking wet and shivering, hugging them close to block the wind and rubbing their arms, shoulders, and back to try and warm them up

[trope-appreciation-tuesdays]

Whumpee is found sick, injured, and half frozen in the woods by a group of strangers. They get them home, warm them up and treat their injuries before putting them to bed. The poor whumpee is still out of it and half conscious, confused about where they are and what's happening. The caretakers stay with them all night, listening to their whimpers and painful coughs, pulling more blankets over their shivering form. If they cry out in the night from a nightmare someone is there to calm them. 1/2

2/2: When they wake up they're groggy and scared, and very weak. The caretakers are gentle as anything with them, knowing how scary the situation is for them. They're still too exhausted and traumatized to talk about what happened to them, but they're cared for as best as possible. The caretakers lay damp cloths on their forehead and spoon broth into their mouth until they're stronger, taking shifts when it comes to sitting with them at night, so they're never alone. Eventually they feel safe.

[fluffyllamas-23]

Whump prompt:

We all know and love the “character sick in an airport with their SO” but what about a character sick in an airport on their own? Like they’re flying to meet their SO in an unfamiliar place, and they have to navigate the airport on their own and figure out how to get on the shuttle to the rental car place and they’re just so fuzzy and feel so awful that the whole experience is miserable and they just want to die.

[fluffyllamas-23]

And then they finally get to their SO and just break down sobbing because they feel terrible and just want to go to sleep (since they were unable to on the plane) and their SO takes them back to where they’re staying and makes them tea and wraps them up in blankets

[voidstrays]

Sickfic Prompts/Starters

“If you need something, just holler. Or cough really loudly if that’s easier.“

“If you mention food one more time, I swear I will eviscerate you.”

“We need to get you into a different shirt. You’ve already sweat through that one.”

“Please just don’t—don’t touch me.”

“What the hell are you doing on the bathroom floor at 3 in the morning?”

“I really can’t eat that right now. It’ll just come right back up.”

“I could probably fry an egg on your forehead. That’s how high your fever is right now.”

“Is that my sweater? I’m going to have to burn that thing now that you’ve contaminated it!”

“I know you’re exhausted, but you need to stay awake right now. I gotta get some medicine in you.”

“Please just sit down. You’re swaying on your feet right now.”

“I feel thoroughly disgusting.”

[boytumms]

Stomach ache things/diolog I like to hear

Being unable to curl up in a ball because their tummy is too bloated and the pressure of pulling their legs up is too much

Moaning and rubbing their tummy in their sleep

When their tummy is too tender to be touched or rubbed so there’s nothing they or their care taker can do to sooth the pain

Being so full or bloated the their belly gets a red/pink flush

Having to go to the hospital because the pain is so bad, then having to clutch their belly and cry while their caretaker holds them while they sit in the waiting room

Being in the hospital and hearing someone screaming or vomiting in another room

“Please, it hurts so bad, please help me”

“Oh god by belly, make it stop!”

Having their belly painfully pressed and prodded when examined by a doctor

Guarding their tummy when someone tried to get near it

“Ah! Don’t touch it, i-it’s too painful!”

The caretaker tries to touch or rub the belly but it causes them more pain/to violently throw up

Moans turning into whimpers, which turn into cries, then turn into screams

Being so desperate they have to frantically rub their own aching tummy, desperately trying to find some kind of relief

“I-I can’t take it, please make it stop, it’s too much”

Cramps so bad they double over

Bellies being described as “swollen” or “bloated”

Tummies that shake, quiver or bounce from the sheer pain/pressure

“Oohhhh…. m-my, my tummy….”

When their tummy is so packed their system can’t handle it and they need someone to help get things moving by pushing and kneeding the belly, even though the added pressure causes their tummy to hurt so much more. They cry and writhe under the care takers touch but they have to go through it to make their belly feel better in the long run

Or maybe there’s no one to help rub their stuffed tummy so their poor guts have to struggle and strain all night with all the food they overloaded their system with

Writhing on the bed, clawing and grabbing at their belly in pain

Just clutching their bellies in general is really good

Care takers gently placing a hand on an upset tummy and being able to feel the turmoil going on underneath the skin

Cuddling and pressing tummies together, feeling how bloated the other is against their own stomach

Bellies that swell up as gas builds in their guts, big pockets of air that stretch their stomach and twist up their intestines as they move through their digestive system

When their tummy is full of gas and they feel it bubbling inside them

Non stop gurgling

“My belly, my belly…”

Being so full it makes the skin of their tummy extra sensitive, so they can’t have clothes or blankets rubbing up against them

Shallow breaths because their bloated tummy is taking up too much room and their lungs can’t expand properly

Begging their own tummy to stop hurting

Gasping in pain

Tummies that are hard to the touch

Patting the tummy instead of rubbing it

“Ow my tummy, ohhh… my tummy hurts so much, I can’t take it anymore…”

[1heartfanfics]

some of these are so gooooood omg

[iwritesickfic]

boys with high fevers, half conscious, trembling against caretakers, begging. for a hot bath to help the chills. for caretaker to stop forcing water when they know they’ll only be sick again, for relief, for comfort, for sleep. a constant string of mumbled, tearful “please”s, whispered against caretaker’s chest. absolutely desperate. 

but a hot bath would only worsen the raging fever, dehydration is becoming a serious concern, and caretaker is almost powerless to provide any significant respite from this dreadful, miserable virus. so they can only hold boy gently, stroke his hair, hushedly reassure him everything will be alright, while the endless string of feverish pleading continues.

please, please, please, please

[yourlocallovesickie]

Scatcember Prompt List

If you use these feel free to tag me, I’d love to see what you wrote! 

Day 1. Can’t hold it

Day 2. Messing

Day 3. Constipated

Day 4. During intimacy

Day 5. Sick

Day 6. Messing on purpose

Day 7. Anxiety poops

Day 8. IBS

Day 9. Shart

Day 10. Help

Day 11. Stuffing

Day 12. Makeshift toilet

Day 13. Cold sweats on the toilet

Day 14. Sleepy/sleeping

Day 15. Both ends

Day 16. Clogged toilets

Day 17. No toilet paper

Day 18. On vacation/not near home

Day 19, In the car

Day 20. Outside

Day 21. Hold it

Day 22. Bath/shower

Day 23. Public restroom

Day 24. During physical activity

Day 25. Christmas/free choice!

Day 26. Gas

Day 27. No privacy

Day 28. Not quite done

Day 29. Stains

Day 30. Free choice!

Day 31. New Years!

[hae-meto]

Lolz