Dennis Whitaker has always been the one people rely on—the doctor who stays late, pushes through exhaustion, and never asks for help. So when he shows up to a shift clearly sick, still trying to take care of everyone else, you’re the only one who refuses to let him. Dragging him out of the ER and into the quiet of his apartment, you take over for once—making him rest, taking care of him, and staying when no one else ever has. Somewhere between stubborn arguments, soft moments, and quiet confessions, Dennis realizes something unfamiliar but undeniable: maybe he doesn’t have to do everything alone anymore.
Dennis Whitaker was terrible at being sick.
You realized that the moment you spotted him across the ER—standing a little too still at the nurse’s station, like if he moved too fast he might actually tip over.
Pale.
Sweaty.
And somehow still trying to function like nothing was wrong.
“Dennis,” you called, weaving through the chaos toward him, arms already crossing. “Why do you look like you’re about to pass out?”
“I don’t,” he said immediately, eyes glued to the chart in his hands. His voice was rough, slightly hoarse. “I’m fine.”
You didn’t respond right away.
Just looked at him.
Really looked.
The faint tremor in his fingers. The way his shoulders were tighter than usual. The almost imperceptible sway when he shifted his weight.
“Dennis,” you said again, slower this time, “you look like a ghost.”
“I’m fine,” he repeated, weaker this time.
Right on cue, he turned away to cough into his sleeve—sharp, sudden, and definitely not “fine.”
That was it.
“Nope,” you said, already reaching for the chart in his hands. “You’re done.”
His head snapped toward you. “Hey—no, I’m not.”
You held the chart out of reach like it weighed nothing.
“We’re short-staffed,” he pressed, trying to grab it back. “I can’t just leave—”
“You can and you are,” you cut in, voice firm. Not loud. Not harsh. Just certain. “You’re not helping anyone like this.”
A few nearby nurses glanced over.
Even Trinity Santos looked up from across the station, raising an eyebrow like she was silently placing bets.
Dennis frowned, stubborn as ever. “I’ve worked worse.”
“And that’s exactly the problem,” you shot back. “You always do this. You push until you crash and then act surprised when your body gives out.”
“I don’t crash—”
“You’re crashing right now.”
That made him pause.
Because you weren’t joking.
You weren’t teasing.
You were worried.
And that—more than anything—got through to him.
“…I’ll be okay,” he said, quieter now.
“I know,” you softened, stepping closer. “But not if you keep pretending you’re invincible.”
A beat passed.
The ER buzzed around you—voices, monitors, footsteps—but right there, it felt quieter.
You reached out, gently taking his wrist.
His pulse was too fast.
“Come on,” you said softly. “You’re going home.”
Dennis hesitated.
You could see the internal argument playing out—responsibility vs. exhaustion.
Then finally—
“…Okay,” he muttered.
---
Getting him out of the hospital was an ordeal in itself.
He tried to stop twice.
Once to “just check on a patient.”
Once to “finish a note.”
Both times, you physically redirected him.
“You are unbelievable,” you muttered as you guided him toward the exit.
“And you’re bossy,” he shot back weakly.
“You love it.”
“…I tolerate it.”
“Liar.”
---
By the time you got him to his apartment, he looked worse.
Way worse.
The adrenaline of the ER had clearly been the only thing keeping him upright.
Now, in the quiet—
He sagged.
“Sit,” you ordered, pointing at the couch.
“I am sitting,” he said, already halfway down.
“Good. Stay there.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled, too tired to fight you anymore.
You didn’t miss the way he sank into the cushions like he hadn’t sat down properly all day.
Or the way his eyes closed for a second longer than normal.
You grabbed a blanket, tossing it over him.
He didn’t even protest this time.
Progress.
---
You moved through his apartment like you belonged there—grabbing a glass of water, checking cabinets, finding medicine like you’d memorized the layout.
Behind you, Dennis watched.
Quiet.
“…You didn’t have to do all this,” he said after a moment.
“I know,” you replied simply. “I wanted to.”
You handed him the water and meds.
“Take it.”
He obeyed without argument, which honestly told you more than anything else.
Dennis Whitaker did not listen easily.
Unless he was really not okay.
---
A few minutes later, you returned with something warm.
Simple.
Comforting.
He stared at it like you’d handed him something far more complicated.
“…You really dropped everything for this?” he asked.
You shrugged, sitting beside him. “You needed me.”
He went quiet again.
That thoughtful, inward quiet he got when something actually hit him.
“People don’t usually—” he started, then stopped.
You turned slightly. “Don’t usually what?”
He hesitated.
Then, softer—
“…Stick around.”
That landed.
Harder than you expected.
You nudged his shoulder lightly. “Well, that sounds like a them problem.”
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
“…Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you said. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”
He looked at you then.
Really looked.
Like he was trying to figure out if you meant it.
Like he wasn’t used to hearing it.
“…Okay,” he said quietly.
---
A little while later, his head tipped back against the couch.
Then—
Slowly—
It tilted sideways.
Until it rested against your shoulder.
You froze for half a second.
Not because you didn’t want it.
But because he didn’t do that.
Dennis wasn’t the type to lean.
Not on anyone.
Carefully, you shifted just enough to make it easier for him.
Your hand came up, brushing lightly against his hair.
He didn’t move away.
Didn’t tense.
Just… relaxed.
“…You’re warm,” he murmured, half-asleep.
“That’s because you’re freezing,” you said softly.
“…Don’t move.”
You smiled a little. “Wasn’t planning on it.”
---
Time passed quietly.
The kind of quiet that felt safe.
You checked his temperature again.
Adjusted the blanket.
Made sure he drank water.
And every time he stirred—
You were there.
---
At some point, he woke just enough to speak.
“…You’re still here.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Of course I am.”
He blinked slowly, like he was processing that.
“…You stayed.”
“Dennis,” you said gently, “I told you I would.”
Another long pause.
Then, softer than anything he’d said all day—
“…Thank you.”
You leaned your head lightly against his.
“Get used to it.”
A faint, tired smile crossed his face.
“…I think I’d like that.”
---
By the time he fully fell asleep, his breathing had evened out.
Finally.
You stayed right where you were.
Not moving.
Not rushing.
Just… there.
Because for once—
Dennis Whitaker wasn’t taking care of everyone else.
Summary: Siegewinne is worried about Wriothesley being sick. So she goes to the surface to ask the kind doctor for help. And you aren't leaving until he takes his health seriously.
Pairing: Wriothesley X Fem!Reader
Genre: Fluffyish Oneshot
Word Count: 1192
Warning: Illness
Masterlist
Everyone in the Fortress of Meropide could tell something was wrong with Wriothesley. Rumors and speculation circled through the cells as to what the cause could be. Only the Melusines knew for sure what was bothering him.
You see, despite every effort to hide it, Wriothesley was sick.
He had a runny nose, a cough and a splitting headache. He tried to cover it up the best he could and continue his work like normal. However, the Melusines were quick to notice that the Administrator was under the weather. For the better part of the morning, they banded together in an attempt to make him feel better, but all of their efforts were in vain. For when Wriothesley got sick, he got grouchy. Any time a Melusine tried to get close in an effort to help, he would order them away and slam the door in their face.
This led to Siegewinne making a decision for the benefit of all the Melusines and the prisoners in Meropide. She snuck to the surface and into Fontaine to find medicine and warm food to give him. And that's how she wound up in your apothecary.
"Welcome to the Fontaine Apothecary. How may I be of assistance?" You asked her, a sweet smile on your lips.
"Do you have any medicine I can give someone who is sick with a cold?" She asked, her head tilted to the side as she looked at all of your medicine on the shelves behind you.
You nodded. "I have lots of medicine that can help. Can you describe their symptoms to me?"
Counting on her fingers, she listed his ailments. "He's suffering from the sniffles, a runny nose, a headache, and he has a bad cough."
"I see. Sounds like quite the cold. But I have a home remedy that can relieve his symptoms." As you got to work preparing the medicine, you asked another question of the little Melusine. "Does he have an upset stomach?"
She shook her head. "No, I don't think so. He's never complained of one, that is."
"I see. Well, if you don't mind, I'll prepare some warm soup, as well as give you an assortment of teas that should also help."
"Thank you! Thank you very much!"
"It is not a problem at all!" You assure her.
When your work is done, you place the medicine, soup, and tea into a basket to hand to her. However, as soon as she grabs it, you notice her struggling to carry it out the door. Quickly, you emerged around the counter and gently took the basket from her.
"Do you mind if I carry it? It's awfully heavy."
She shakes her head. "I don't mind. I can lead the way."
"Sounds like an excellent idea. I'll follow you."
And you did, all the way to the Fortress of Meropide. You were a little intimidated by its size and the fact that it is a prison, but you would not be deterred. If this sweet little Melusine was willing to go inside, so would you.
Sigewinne knocked once more on Wriothesley's door and he yelled at her to leave him alone. His sharp words and congested voice made you frown. Instead of heeding his orders, you barged into his office.
"What is the meaning of this?" He snapped, glaring daggers into you.
You simply paid him no mind as you laid the items in the basket on a table in his office. "Your dear friend here was worried about you, so she came to me looking for medicine, which I am providing for you."
"I don't need any medicine." He dismissively replied. "I feel fine."
"Have you eaten at all today?"
"That is none of your concern."
You shrug in response. "Very well. I shall take this soup and tea with me. I'd hate for it to go to waste on someone who is ungrateful for its help."
"Tea?" You could see him pause at your words. "What kind of tea?"
You give him a warm smile, although your eyes show a hint of smugness. "A special blend of chamomile that can cure any cold."
Wriothesley appeared conflicted as he mulled over your words. Eventually he sighed and gestured to the two of you. "Thank you for the medicine, food, and tea. You may go now."
Sigewinne nodded and went on her merry way. But you didn't. Instead, you folded your arms over your chest and nodded to the food and tea.
"I want to watch you eat?"
"You, what?"
"I want to make sure you eat everything I've provided and then you take the medicine I made." You reply. "And I won't take no for an answer."
He scowled before taking the cup of tea you made and drank it one go. "You are stubborn."
"As are you." You replied, a challenging smirk curling the corners of your lips. "Now, are you hungry? You need to eat before you can take your medicine."
He ravenously ate the soup and you offered him the medicine. He looked at it skeptically, but you just frowned. "If you don't take it, I'll force your mouth open to take it."
"You're awfully demanding for someone in the presence of the Administrator to this prison."
"Your friend went through a lot of trouble to make sure you are well again." You snap. "I will not have her efforts go to waste. Now take the damn medicine, or so help me Archons..."
"Fine, fine. Have it your way." He choked down the medicine and grimaced at the taste. "There. Happy?"
You nodded with a smug smile. "I am pleased. Now, I'm ordering you on bed rest for the rest of today and I will be back tomorrow with more medicine."
"You can't just order me around!" He shot back. "I am the Administrator of this prison and a Duke to boot. I should be ordering you around."
You roll your eyes at his little temper tantrum. "You are sick and not in the right frame of mind to be ordering anyone around. That is why you must be on rest, so this prison does not fall into disarray because of poor decisions you make when you are sick. Besides, I am a doctor and I know what's best for my patients to recover."
He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I don't make poor decisions when I'm sick."
"Fine, don't listen to me. Get more sick and infect your whole prison until you're all sick. But don't say I didn't warn you. Cold like this can spread faster than wildfire. And I will not have their illnesses on my conscience." You shook your head and made your way to the door.
"Wait." His voice made you pause. You turn your head to watch him sigh. "Fine. I will rest if you come back with more medicine tomorrow and teach Sigewinne how to make it."
Your smug smile returns. "There. Now was that so hard? I shall return tomorrow morning with the ingredients for Sigewinne. Until then, you are to get into bed and stay there until my room. Understood?"
my cat has been sick for the last like week and now you must suffer as i thrust the suffering upon Frost
Like any cat Frost doesn’t show symptoms until the issue is really really bad
So when Frost starts hiding in his tent more, snapping at Gricko and even Hootsie, and subtly puking blood the krew is horrified
Gricko’s magic can only do so much and Kremy’s well they learned the hard way shouldn’t be mixed with trying to heal people
When they get to the closest town healer, and it’s to the point that Frost has stopped eating and drinking and started actively scratching they start wondering if it’s too late
Gricko waits horrified for hours right outside the treatment room, the rest of the Krew aren’t too far but don’t want to stress Gricko (or Frost) out anymore
The doctors send them home 6 hours later with a sending stone, meds and instructions to call if he doesn’t seem to be showing any improvement
well with no improvement, they go back to the healer, for more testing more radio photos and exhaustion in every inch of each of their bodies
It’s not cheap, the coin purse is running low, they $1000 gold pieces in.
But the healer charges nothing more, and gives instructions for a laxative, rest and an appetite stimulant.
The clock is ticking in 24 hours if Frost has not gone to the bathroom or eaten, they have to go back.
Frost stopped fighting the meds, but also stopped talking, from exhaustion or spite they can’t tell but the silence is deafening
in the 20 hours, Frost eats and eats and eats. Drinks all the water he’s given but still no improvement
then in the 24th hour, Frost uses the restroom. and comes back talking thanking the krew for helping him feel better, and then crashing for several hours in Gricko’s tent not letting Gricko move, purring the whole time
I just made this simple drawing of Makoto being sick and in a bad mood, he doesn't like being sick again, but Yuma is here to take care of him, and has the patience of the world. Sick Makoto can be tricky. 🥺🌡️
I had done something else with another character, but then I decided to do them, I'll post the other one later. Happy birthday @pixelatedraindrops !! I wish all the best to you and the people you love, I hope you continue with your amazing work because I loved your drawings! 🎂🎈🎉🥳
