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1heartsickfics · 2 months

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Hi! Your stories are amazing. I’m totally addicted. Zayn and Andrew are such a cute couple. I was hoping you’d be able to write something about Zaun being sick to his stomach and insisting on going to work because he’s a teacher and he needs to. I’m a teacher and I’ve had to work though sooo many bugs and it’s awful. I literally keep a box of supplies at work just in case. Bonus if someone has to come get him because he’s too sick to get himself home and they give him the whole, “I told you so”

“Morning babe,” Andrew said as he heard Zayn enter the kitchen. When he recieved no reply he looked up from the book he was reading. “You okay?” He asked.

Zayn just shrugged. He was already dressed for work, wearing slacks and a button down, but he looked tired and uncomfortable.

“I feel kinda sick to my stomach,” Zayn answered after a moment. He was cradling his belly with one hand.

“Maybe you should stay home today,” Andrew said, getting up and moving to Zayn’s side. He gently guided Zayn over to their dining table by his elbow and pressed him down onto the chair. “They can’t find a sub on this late of notice,” Zayn shook his head.

Andrew took a seat next to his husband and reached forward to press the back of his hand to Zayns cheek. He felt a little warm, he’d probably caught some kind of bug from the kids at school. “I know, but you really don’t look well hon,” Andrew said sadly, knowing that he was fighting a losing battle. “I’ll just have it be a work day for my students, I’ll be okay,” he shrugged, his mind clearly already made up. “Okay..” Andrew sighed, clearly worried. Zayn could be so stubborn when he was sick. At least he’d been open about telling Andrew he didn’t feel well. That was progress. “I’ll be fine babe,” Zayn said, smiling weakly to try and reassure his husband. “Okay, I hope your kids behave for you today,” Andrew said, leaning forward to kiss Zayn’s cheek as he stood up to take his breakfast dishes to the sink.

“Me too,” Zayn sighed, forcing himself to get up from the table and finish getting ready. As he was putting his shoes and coat on, Andrew came in and held out a tote bag to him. “Here, I made you a little sick day care package to take to work.” Zayn peaked into the bag. A packet of chamomile tea, some mints, pepto, some saltines, and a can of ginger ale. “You’re so sweet, thank you,” Zayn said, slinging the bag over his shoulder along with his backpack. Andrew smiled at him sadly. He sounded exhausted already and his day hadn’t even begun yet.

“Call me if you need anything and I can run it up to you okay?” Andrew said, leaning over to give Zayn another peck on the cheek. “I will. I love you,” Zayn answered, feeling so grateful for Andrew.

“I love you too.” Andrew replied as Zayn stepped outside and headed to work. Andrew just hoped he could make it through the day.

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The drive to the elementary school had felt longer than usual. Each turn made Zayn’s stomach flip. By the time he arrived and parked his car, he was s already starting to feel nauseous. Once he got to his classroom he took a swig of the pepto and popped a mint into his mouth. Then he headed to the teachers lounge to heat up some water for the tea. He hoped that would be enough. Thankfully, he managed to calm his stomach down to a dull ache by the time his students started arriving. He didn't greet them all as he usually did, but tried to give each student a smile and a wave as they entered the classroom and made their way to their seat.

"Alright, how's everyone doing today?" Zayn asked his class after the bell rang. He received a chorus of words that he couldn't understand, as usual.

"Anyone have any fun plans this weekend" he asked as he wheeled his chair out from behind his desk to sit at the front of the classroom and sat back down in front of the students. A few raised their hands and told him about their family outings or sporting events taking place this weekend.

"Awesome, thanks for sharing guys," he said, debating on what he wanted to tell them. "So, I'm going to be honest with you all, I am a little under the weather today. So we're just going to have a work-day. That means that if you've got any assignments due or late work to catch up on, you can do that. Otherwise, you're free to read a book, do some creative writing, or find an art project from our creation corner," he explained.

"Are you sick Mr.Kalani?" one of his students asked, looking concerned.

"Yeah sweetie I am," Zayn sighed.

"My mom says you should stay home when you're sick," another student spoke up.

"Your mom is right," Zayn chuckled lightly, "I wanted to stay home but there wasn't enough time to find a sub for you guys, so I'm just going to power through," he explained.

"So, I'll be at my desk if anyone needs me. Feel free to listen to music if you want but no games and try to keep chitchat at a whisper level okay?" he continued, finishing up his instructions.

With that, his students started rummaging around in their backpacks for assignments and books. Luckily, he had a pretty good class this year. No real problem students, just some kids who liked to talk during class a little too much, but he could handle that.

Zayn scooted back to his desk, wishing he could just dim the lights and take a nap. His stomach was already starting to turn again. Maybe he should see if they could at least get a sub for the second half of the day.

He opened his email and typed a message to the principal:

'Hello Mr. Whitman,

I am feeling pretty ill this morning and wanted to see if there was any possibility of getting a sub for my class starting after lunch. I can power through if I need to but a half day would be much appreciated.

Thanks,

Zayn'

He hit send before he could have second thoughts. Normally he wouldn't even ask but he genuinely felt so unwell that he really wasn't sure he actually could make it through the day. Andrew had been right.

Mr. Whitman responded within minutes: 'I'll see what I can do'. Which was about the best response Zayn could've hoped for.

As the minutes ticked on, Zayn's stomach grew more and more upset. He could feel it churning sickly and resisted the urge to press his hand to it. A few times his stomach lurched, thankfully only forcing up belches that he attempted to muffle into his fist.

By some miracle, he made it to 10 o'clock, which was when his class went to gym. He got everyone lined up and led them through the school to the gymnasium.

Mr. Penn immediately got the kids started with a game of dodgeball, then walked over to where Zayn was slumped against the wall.

"You feeling alright?" Mr. Penn asked.

Zayn shook his head, "Not really. Hoping Mr. Whitman can get a sub for me after lunch."

"Yeah hopefully he can, you really aren't looking so good," Mr. Penn said, cringing in sympathy. "You can go back to your classroom if you want, I've got 'em. I'll bring 'em back to you in an hour," he added, nodding toward the door.

"Thank you," Zayn breathed out, giving the other teacher a grateful smile before slinking out and heading back to his classroom. Standing had made him feel about 15 times worse. The nausea had returned in full force, making him press a fist to his mouth as he walked, afraid something might come out if he didn't.

Once he was sitting as his desk again the nausea receded slightly, but he still felt like he could throw up at any moment. He cracked open the can of ginger ale from Andrew and took a careful sip. The cool fizzy drink did feel nice in his sick belly, but it didn't lessen the feeling of nausea. Zayn leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, focusing on taking slow breaths through his nose. He must have drifted off though because he was startled awake when the door swung open and his kids filed in.

“Thanks,” he croaked to Mr. Penn, forcing himself to stand up even as his stomach sloshed in protest. “Hang in there brother,” Mr. Whitman said quietly on his way back out the door. Zayn nodded in thanks, afraid to say more. He was actively fighting back the nausea at this point, willing his stomach to stay in place. This was not good.

His students had all made their way back to their seats and were looking at him expectantly. He must really not look well because they weren't even talking amongst themselves, just watching him.

"Mr. K?" one of his students asked. Their voice sounded far away though, his ears were ringing.

His mouth started filling with saliva and he knew that it was over. There was nothing he could do. He rushed over to his desk and crouched down behind it to at least shield himself from his kids' eyes as he leaned over the trash can just in time to throw up what little he'd ingested.

"EWW!" a chorus of disgusted sounds and laughter came from his class on the other side of his desk. He couldn't worry about that right now though, he was too busy focusing on breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth so he wouldn't throw up again.

He felt a small hand on his shoulder, "Mr. K should I go get some help?" one of his students, a sweet girl named Molly asked, standing behind him.

"Yes please," he rasped, cheeks flushing red. "Thank you Molly," he added as she turned to head out of the room. He couldn't believe that this had just happened. He'd never hear the end of it.

A minute later Molly returned with the teacher from across the hall, Mrs. Davis. She instructed Molly to return to her seat and asked his class to read quietly for a few minutes.

"Hey," she said, crouching down next to Zayn. "Came down with a bug huh?" she asked, smiling sympathetically. It happened to all new teachers in the winter. Kids bring in a lot of germs and it takes a few years to develop the immune system to fight everything off.

"I'm so sorry," Zayn said, dropping his head down into his hands. "I thought I could make it through the day."

"We always do. It happens to the best of us Zayn don't worry," she tried to reassure him. Zayn smiled woefully, but felt absolutely humiliated. And nauseous.

"I have two paras watching my kids right now so I can cover yours until Mr. Whitman finds a sub or figures something out. So whenever you're ready, grab your stuff and get out of here, okay?" she told him.

"Thank you Sara, I owe you one," Zayn sighed, taking a deep breath to try and regain his composure. He was already dreading standing up to the prying eyes of his students.

"No need, like I said, it happens," she shook her head, "Are you okay to drive home?" she asked. He really did not look well. His skin was deathly pale and ashen, damp with sweat. His hands shook as he reached up to brush his hair out of his face. He hardly looked fit to stand, let alone drive.

"Uh, yeah..." Zayn trailed off, not so sure, "I can call Andy," he finished, deciding that was probably the better idea. The last thing he needed was to puke all over himself while trying to drive home.

"That's probably a good idea," Sara nodded. "You ready to get up?" she asked.

Zayn nodded, though he wasn't really. Sara grabbed his elbow and gently helped him to his feet. He swayed, immediately dizzy, but grabbed the edge of his desk to steady himself. As he started to pack up his things he could feel the kids' eyes on him.

"I'm going to be hanging out with you guys for a while since Mr. Kalani isn't feeling well," Mrs. Davis said, walking to the front of the room and addressing his class.

"Feel better Mr.K!" a couple of kids called out as he finished packing his things.

"Thank you," he smiled gratefully, thankful to have such a sweet class. "Be good for Mrs. Davis okay? Hopefully I'll be back tomorrow," he added, waving to them as he shakily headed for the door.

As soon as he was out of eye sight, he leaned against the wall and pulled his phone out of his pocket. Opening a text to Andy he typed 'Can you come get me? I threw up and I really don't feel good' and sent it.

Almost immediately he got a response back: 'Poor baby :( omw'

Andrew had probably been waiting around, expecting this to happen. Zayn wished he'd just listened to him and stayed home today. Then this whole mess never would have happened.

By the time Zayn trudged his way to the back exit of the school, Andrew was parked and waiting for him. He got out, rushing over to Zayn to take his bag from him, then placed a hand on his back to lead him over to the car. Zayn carefully got into the passenger seat, afraid to upset his stomach any more than it already was.

"How's your stomach feeling?" Andrew asked after getting back into the driver's seat.

"Not good," Zayn shook his head. He was still unbearably nauseous, stomach feeling sour and unsettled.

"Here, just in case," Andrew said, handing Zayn a plastic bag. Zayn took it wordlessly, squeezing his eyes shut against the nausea and vertigo... and tears.

"Baby?" Andrew asked gently, seeing a tear slide down his husband's cheek. "What happened?"

"I puked in front of my whole class!" Zayn managed to get out before he burst into tears, pitching forward with a sob.

"Oh sweetie," Andrew sighed, rubbing a hand up and down Zayn's back. Zayn turned to bury his face in Andrew's shoulder, tears soaking into his flannel. Andrew wrapped his arm around Zayn, leaning down to press a kiss onto his forehead, which was burning with fever.

Zayn hiccuped, a sob morphing into a, thankfully, unproductive gag.

"Try to calm down Z, you're gonna make yourself sick again," Andrew said softly, rubbing Zayn's arm.

"I-i'm just so embarrassed," Zayn cried, sniffling as he tried to calm himself down.

"I know baby, I'm so sorry this happened. I'm sure it has happened to plenty of other teachers though," Andrew tried to reassure him.

"That's what Sara Davis said," Zayn sighed, reaching up to wipe the tears off his face. "She took over my class," he added, taking a slow shaky breath as the tears subsided.

"There you go, see? It happens. No big deal alright?" Andrew said, giving Zayn's shoulder a squeeze before retracting his arm to put the car in drive.

"I guess," Zayn shrugged, not really convinced but settled enough for now.

"Let's just get you home okay?" Andrew nodded, pulling out of the parking lot and heading for home.

#zayn and andrew #sick zayn #caretaker andrew #vomiting #tw vomit #vomit tw #stomach flu #upset stomach #comfort #hurt comfort #oc story

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1heartsickfics · 2 months

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Keep it down, Bring it up: Prompts

I need to keep burping or I’m going to throw up.

I feel like I need to throw up but there’s nothing in my stomach

I feel like my breakfast is about to come up.

Can you find me a trash can? I’m suddenly feeling a lot more nauseous.

My lunch isn’t going to stay down much longer.

I’m going to need to get sick soon.

I don’t think I can keep my breakfast down much longer.

I’m really sick to my stomach right now.

I shouldn’t have eaten that; it’s not sitting well

I’m going to need to vomit up my dinner pretty soon

I ate too much; I don’t think I can keep it all down

Can we stop here for a minute? I think I’m going to throw up

I’m trying to burp up the air but it’s not happening

I’m trying to . . . urp . . . hold it down until we get someplace private

I need to burp again but I feel like the next one’s going to bring up my lunch

I’m so queasy, everything is sloshing in my stomach. It’s hic not staying down.

I can’t hold it down much longer.

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1heartsickfics · 3 months

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could you do one of Peter being sick at the tower (nauseous and throwing up, fever etc) and Tony goes all Dad ModeTM, and all the Avengers are like damn, Tony is being so fatherly; when did he get so soft? later tony still showing how great of a dad he is peter falls asleep on him during a movie and the avengers are like bro? ur a dad to this kid now? and tony is all defensive like no-no hes-ok maybe kind of, now stop talking you're gonna wake my kid and he smiles down like *my* kid, I like that

Apparently I'm only in the mood for writing fandom fics rn cause I am just not feeling motivated to write for my oc's lately. Anyway here's a short one.

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"You alright there kid?" Steve asked Peter, noticing how unusually quiet he'd been tonight.

"M'okay," Peter shrugged, not sounding very convincing.

"He's definitely not okay," Clint said, "That is the face of someone who is going to puke soon."

"You gonna be sick Peter?" Steve asked, moving to sit beside Peter on the couch.

Peter swallowed hard, his face suddenly a pale green. "M-maybe," he struggled to get out.

"Clint can you-?" Steve stopped as Clint handed him the trash can, already one step ahead of him. Steve was grateful that Clint moved to sit on Peter's other side, placing a hand on the kids back as he leaned over the can. Clint had kids of his own, he knew how to do this. Steve on the other hand, felt pretty out of his element.

Peter groaned, wrapping his arms around his stomach. His mouth hung open limply and his eyes were unfocused as waves of nausea rushed over him. Normally he would be embarrassed that Hawkeye and Captain America were about to see him barf, but he felt too sick to even care.

"That's it kiddo, just keep breathing," Clint said, gently rubbing Peter's back.

"Does anybody know where Tony is?" Steve asked, looking around at the others. Tony was probably the one that Peter wanted right now. But he was met with clueless stares and blank faces.

"I'll go find him," Bruce said, standing up and heading out of the room.

Then Peter gagged harshly, his body convulsing as he threw up into the trash can. Steve brought his hand up to the kids forehead to help support him and keep his hair out of his eyes. He could feel that Peter was burning up with a fever.

"Jesus Pete what happened!?" Tony cried as he walked into the room, followed by Bruce, who had apparently found Tony rather quickly. Steve stood to let Tony take his spot next to Peter, who immediately wrapped an arm around the kids shoulders.

"I don't feel good," Peter moaned, slumping against his mentor.

"I know kid, but I've got you, you're gonna be alright," Tony said, rubbing his hand up and down Peter's arm. "Can someone go get us some water?" he asked, glancing up at the others.

Clint nodded, "I'll get it. You done for now Peter?" he asked, gesturing toward the trash.

Peter groaned, but nodded his head. Clint picked up the can and took it with him as he headed for the kitchen, presumably to clean it out and get Peter something else to be sick in for the inevitable round 2. Seems like the poor kid had caught a stomach bug.

Clint returned a moment later with a fresh bin lined with a plastic bag, and a glass of water. He set the trash can down in front of Peter again and handed Tony the water.

"Here Pete, you think you can take a drink for me?" he asked quietly.

Peter said nothing, but straightened up enough to take the glass from Tony. He took a small sip, wincing as he swallowed, then handed the glass back. Tony frowned, clearly not satisfied.

"Alright, we'll try some more later," he said, knowing that he shouldn't press too much or he'd risk making the kid sick again. "You want to go up to bed or stay down here?" he asked.

"Too tired," Peter shook his head, eyelids drooping heavily as if to prove his point.

"Okay, come here then, lay down," Tony said, placing a pillow in his lap for Peter to lay on, then helping maneuver the kid so that he was laying down.

Tony could have easily carried the kid to bed, but decided that it might be best to have him out here where he could keep an eye on him for a while anyway. He brushed the kids hair out of his eyes then grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over him as best he could.

That was when he felt the eyes on him. All of the others had been silently watching the exchange. They'd never seen Tony so... soft.

"What?" he asked, rolling his eyes at the looks on their faces.

"You the kids dad now huh?" Nat asked, smirking playfully, although there was fondness in her eyes.

"Well, no. Obviously not. I mean, he's just-" Tony fumbled over his words, caught off guard by the word 'dad'. Was he? Is that how Peter thought of him? He hated to admit that the thought made his heart swell a little. Maybe this really was his kid.

#sick peter #peter parker #caretaker tony #dad tony #tony start #tony and peter #avengers #marvel #sickfic #tw: vomit #vomit trigger warning

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1heartsickfics · 3 months

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hey!! I’d love if you wrote anything of Meredith and Derek from Greys. or even if you know any good fics of them you could share!! anyways no pressure at all :)

Honestly I don't think I've ever seen a single merder sickfic. I don't think I can write for them though, their relationship never inspired any sickfic content/thoughts for me.

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1heartsickfics · 3 months

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Wait a minute I'm a bit confused. What happend to Nathan??

So Nathan was a character that I based off of my ex while we were together. So when we broke up about 2 years ago I stopped writing for him. Canonically him and hazel broke up and now Hazel is dating Spencer, who is based off of my current boyfriend.

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1heartsickfics · 3 months

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hey if ur still doing requests could you please do a supernatural one. where like dean gets like super burpy carsick and cas takes care of him and could you add some smut in there if not that’s completely fine

I felt like it would be unrealistic for Dean to be carsick lol but I still made him get sick while in the car, just for another reason. Hopefully that's okay lol.

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"Dean,"

"Huh? What Cas?" Dean was drawn out of his thoughts. He'd been zoning out for the last who knows how long.

"I asked if you were okay," Cas said. Dean could feel the man staring at him, as he had the tendency to do.

"I'm fine," Dean answered, maybe a little too quickly. Truthfully, he hadn't felt well ever since they'd crossed the Missouri state line.

"Are you sure Dean because you don't look very-"

"I'm fine," Dean snapped, interrupting Cas before he could even finish.

Cas was quiet for a while after that, just staring out the window. Glancing over at him, Dean signed, he shouldn't have snapped at Cas like that he was just trying to help. Dean winced as his stomach turned, forcing a belch up his throat, which he muffled into his hand as best he could. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Cas looking at him again.

Dean stared straight ahead at the road, hoping Cas would just let it go. Thankfully, he did, not saying a word.

As each mile marker passed Dean found himself feeling worse though. His stomach was fully churning by this point, making him feel nauseous. Little burps had been forcing their way out of his stomach every couple of minutes. He had one hand inside his jacket, pressed against his abdomen to try and calm it but it didn't seem to be doing anything.

"You're not fine Dean," Cas broke the silence a while later.

Dean didn't say anything, afraid that more than just words would come out if he opened his mouth.

Cas sighed. "Would you just pull over and let me drive? Stop being so stubborn," he said, rolling his eyes.

As much as Dean wanted to argue, he also wanted to curl up in the passenger seat and try to sleep this off. So without a word, he did as Castiel suggested. He pulled over to the side of the highway and put the car in park. Suddenly, his door was opening and Cas was grabbing his elbow, helping him out of the car.

Dean stiffened as soon as he was standing, feeling his stomach lurch. He bent over, bracing his hands on his knees, mouth hanging open as an intense wave of nausea rushed over him.

Cas silently rubbed a hand up and down Dean's back over his jacket. Normally Dean would've waved him off, but he felt so miserable that the comfort was appreciated, so he let it happen. After a moment, the nausea receded slightly. He slowly straightened back up.

"Are you not going to vomit?" Cas asked, his hand stilling on Dean's back, just resting there.

Dean shook his head, "Don't think so, just keep burping." As if to prove his point, his stomach squeezed, making Dean burp into his fist.

"Did you eat something bad?" Cas asked. He'd known that something was wrong with Dean since they'd crossed the Missouri state line, but Dean could be so stubborn.

Dean shrugged, "Probably. Haven't felt right for hours," he admitted, flushing slightly.

"I know," Cas said, "Come on, let's get to a motel or something so you can lay down," with his hand still on the small of Dean's back he led him around to the passenger side of the car and helped him in. Much to Cas's surprise, Dean didn't resist. He just let himself be man handled into his baby.

Cas walked back around to the driver's side and got in, starting the car. Dean was curled in on himself, head leaned against the window, both arms wrapped around his stomach. Before he pulled back out onto the road, he grabbed his trench coat from the floorboard and draped it over Dean.

"Thanks," Dean mumbled, groaning as he let out another burp, not even bothering to try and cover it this time.

"Try to get some sleep okay? Just let me know if we need to stop," Cas said, reaching over to squeeze Dean's shoulder.

#supernatural #sick dean #dean winchester #castiel #cas #dean and cas #sickfic #burping #stomachache #carsick

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1heartsickfics · 3 months

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I’d like to request one of Derek from criminal minds where Derek is sick with the stomach flu and puking a lot and Garcia takes care of him

I haven't watched criminal minds in a while and I've also never written for garcia so I might not get their voice/vibe quite right.

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Garcia was on her way back to her office with a fresh mug of coffee. After she'd passed by the bathrooms she stopped, paused for a moment, then backed up. It almost sounded like someone was...

"hrkllbbgg,"

Throwing up in the bathroom, yep. She walked over to the door and knocked.

"You okay in there?" she called through the door.

"...Not really," a voice answered, raspy from vomiting. That sounded like... no it couldn't be, he's practically invincible. "Derek?"

"That you mama?" Derek asked, sounding relieved.

"You want me to come in?" she asked, not sure if mr. macho man himself would be okay with anyone seeing him like this.

"yes please," he groaned.

Garcia turned the knob, surprised to find the door unlocked, and pushed it open. To her surprise, Derek was slumped in the corner of the bathroom, looking more disheveled than she had ever seen the man. His badge and gun were on the floor, along with his belt and his shoes, and his t-shirt was drenched with sweat.

"Derek Morgan what on earth happened to you?" she gasped, moving to crouch down in front of him. She placed a hand on his forehead, flinching at how warm he was. He definitely had a fever.

"Don't know, just kinda off this morning but it just kept getting worse. Thought maybe I needed to eat something but, well, you see how that turned out," he gestured toward the toilet grimly.

Garcia winced in sympathy, wrinkling her nose as she reached over to flush the toilet. "Do you think you're done for now? We should get you home," she said.

"I don't think putting me in a car is a very good idea right now he groaned, shaking his head.

"Well let's at least get you off of the bathroom floor then. How about you go lay down in your office?" she suggested instead.

"Yeah, okay," Derek agreed, figuring he could at least make it that far. "I'm gonna need a trash can though," he added, grimacing as he felt his stomach churning.

"I'll take care of it," Garcia nodded, "Now come here," she stood, holding her hands out to Derek. He grabbed her hands, letting her help him pull himself up off of the floor. He felt shaky, but Garcia wrapped an arm around his waist to help keep him steady as they made their way out of the bathroom.

As they passed through the BAU main office, a few heads turned to watch them pass. The team had gathered in the conference room and was watching them from up there. No one said anything as Garcia and Morgan made their way up the stairs and into Derek's office.

"There's a case," Derek said as Garcia helped him lay down on the couch in his office.

"Don't worry about that," she said, grabbing a blanket from the corner and draping it over him. She pulled the trashcan from under his desk over to sit in front of the couch.

"I should be in there," he protested.

"For what? So you can go puke on some crime scene photos? I don't think so. You're sitting this one out. The team will be okay without you for one case," she shook her head, grabbing a water bottle from the mini fridge in his office and setting it next to the couch.

Derek sighed, knowing she was right. "Well you should go. They need you," he said.

"I'm going," she said. "Trash can and water are on the ground right there. Drink some if you can and try not to make a mess. I'll be back," she added.

"Thanks babygirl," he called after her as she headed to the conference room.

#criminal minds #sick derek #derek morgan #sickfic #vomit trigger warning #tw: vomit #penelope garcia

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1heartsickfics · 3 months

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Can you write one about jack Gibson from station 19 he has the stomach flu and is puking a lot and Andy Herrera takes care of him

Hi, sorry, I don't write for station 19. You can find the fandoms I do write for here

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1heartsickfics · 3 months

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Soft Bucky

Here's another little ficlet, Steve/Bucky this time cause I've also been back on an avengers kick. Also just prevent that civil war didn't happen.

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It was weird living here, in Tony Starks skyscraper compound. As soon as Bucky had come back to Steve the Avenger's had accepted him with open arms - well, maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration-. They were definitely all a little scared of him, but they'd always been nice.

Tony had offered him a room on the same floor as Steve, which he'd accepted. It's not like he had anywhere else to go. Although it hadn't been long before he and Steve were sleeping in the same bed again, so his room went unused most of the time. He knew they'd all noticed, but no one had said anything.

The good thing about living in the compound though, was that there was always a lot going on, which meant that Bucky could easily blend into the background and not be noticed. He could always slip away if things got to be too much or if he needed to be alone, and Steve understood that.

It was also good for trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with Steve without anyone noticing that he'd been watching him out of the corner of his eye for this entire debriefing. Most of them were too busy arguing about something stupid and there were at least three separate conversations going on.

"Hey," Bucky said under his breath, giving Steve a nudge with his elbow, "You okay?"

"Fine," Steve shrugged. But he didn't look fine.

Bucky must've looked skeptical, because Steve gave him a slight smile -that looked more like a grimace- and nudged Bucky back. Oh yeah, Bucky thought, that makes it so much more believable. He fought the urge to roll his eyes. Steve could be so stupid sometimes.

"What do you think Rogers?" Tony's voice cut through Bucky's internal monologue, and he realized that the attention had been turned to them.

"Steve?" Nat asked when he didn't respond. Bucky was frozen under their eyes, even though they were mostly looking at Steve.

"I-" Steve started to speak but cut off abruptly, "I'm sorry," he gasped out, then jumped up out of his chair and bolted to the corner of the room where he promptly bent over the trash can and puked.

That was enough to snap Bucky out of his thoughts. The crowd suddenly forgotten, he jumped up as well, moving to stand next to Steve, placing one hand on his back and the other on his hip, rubbing gently, just like he used to do all those years ago when Steve would get sick.

"Aw Stevie, I knew something was wrong," Bucky sighed. Steve was no longer actively throwing up, but he was still hunched over the trashcan coughing and gagging.

"Easy darling, you're all done," Bucky said, wrapping his metal arm around Steve's waist to help support him, he could feel him shaking. He needed to get Steve sitting down.

"Buck.." Steve groaned, letting Bucky take some of his weight.

"I know Stevie," he shushed him, brushing his hair out of his eyes with his other hand.

That was when he remembered that he had an audience. Shit. Well, if they hadn't figured out the nature of his and Steve's relationship they sure had now. He turned his head to find them all silently gawking at the scene happening in front of them.

Bucky winced, hating the attention. But it wasn't about him right now, he just needed to get Steve taken care of. He swallowed hard.

"Can someone push a chair over here?" he asked.

No one moved for a moment, then Clint stood up, pushing one of the empty chairs over toward them. Without saying anything he grabbed Steve under one arm and helped Bucky lower him down into the chair.

"Thank you," Bucky said, avoiding meeting Clint's eyes.

Clint nodded, "I'll go get him some water," he added before heading out of the room.

"Hey, that came on pretty quick huh?" Bucky said softly, crouching down in front of Steve's chair, one hand on Steve's leg.

"M'sorry," Steve mumbled, slumping down further in the chair so he could lean his head against the back.

"Don't, it's okay, I've got you," he looked up, glancing at the others who were all still quietly observing, "We've got you," he amended.

"I don't feel good," Steve said quietly.

"Yeah I know you don't. We'll get you up to bed in a minute okay? Just rest for a second first," Bucky said, standing up and moving to Steve's side to drape an arm around his shoulders. Steve leaned his head against Bucky's side, pressing against him.

Bucky stared down at the floor, waiting for Clint to come back and break this horrible awkward silence. They were all staring.

"I didn't know cap could even get sick," Tony said after a few more moments of quiet.

"Neither did we," Bucky answered, looking up at the group for the first time. They all just looked worried, sympathetic. They weren't judging him, or Steve, they were just worried.

Maybe he liked living here after all.

#avengers #marvel #steve and bucky #sick steve #caretaker bucky #soft bucky #tony stark #natasha romanov #captain america #winter soldier #clint barton

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1heartsickfics · 3 months

Note

OMG i would die if you wrote a fic for Katniss/Peeta i’ve been on such a big HG kick ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

not sure what you wanted lol but here’s a little ficlet.

TW: ptsd and depictions of vomit

Katniss could always tell when Peeta was having one of those days. Days when his mind played tricks on him and reminded him of all the horrible things that happened.

He’d been restless last night, tossing and turning, getting up a few times and pressing closer against her when he came back. She hadn’t said anything, but held him as he fell back into fitful sleep.

In the morning after making breakfast he’d frozen for a moment, eyes going hazy and unfocused as he gripped the back of his chair. Then it was over and he sat down. She’d given his hand a squeeze and flashed him a sad smile but hadn’t said anything. Sometimes talking about it made it worse.

“I gave you a locket on the beach that day, real or not real?” He asked suddenly.

Even years later, they still played this game to help him when he had the bad days. It helped Katniss to know where his mind was at, what it was showing him. The 2nd hunger games.

“Real,” she said, pulling said locket out from inside of her shirt so it laid on top for him to see.

He nodded, frowning thoughtfully. She waited for another question but he didn’t say anything else. “Hey,” she said softly, reaching across the table to rest her hand on his arm. He wouldn’t look at her.

“They took me away from you, real or not real?”

“Real,” Katniss answered quietly.

“I was supposed to protect you Katniss, I failed you,” he said shakily, finally meeting her eyes. She could see that he was moments away from crying, tears welling up in his eyes. “You did protect me. I’m the one who failed to protect you,” she shook her head, reaching forward to cup his face in her hands, wiping his now falling tears away with her thumb.

“No, no, no,” he muttered, starting to shake. He shook his head rapidly, eyes fluttering as he fell into a flashback. “Katniss!” He shouted, lost in the memory.

“It’s not real Peeta, you’re having a flashback. Just focus on my voice,” she got up out of her chair and moved to stand next to his chair, wrapping her arms around him as he shook.

“No! No you can’t take me! You can’t-“ he thrashed in her arms, cutting himself off with a sob and a cry of pain.

“You’re safe my love, I’ve got you. That’s all over now,” Katniss continued, tightening her arms as he fought against her. After a moment he went limp, head lolling back against her.

“Katniss… no, where’s Katniss?” He mumbled, limbs jerking against the restraints in his mind. “I’m right here Peeta, just come back to me now,” Katniss said softly, loosening her grip on him to run her fingers through his hair. It always calmed him down and helped to ground him in reality.

He gasped, going stiff for a moment before his eyes flew open. His dazed eyes darted around the room, filled with panic, before the settled on Katniss, who was now crouched in front of him. She placed her hands on his thighs, proving to him that she was real.

“Katniss, I-“ he broke off, suddenly pitching to one side to vomit onto their kitchen floor. “Oh Peeta," Katniss sighed in sympathy, rubbing a hand up and down his back as he was sick.

"M'sorry," Peeta mumbled, turning fully to the side and hunching forward even more to put his head between his knees.

"Hush," Katniss waved off his apology. "Are you back with me?" she asked.

Peeta didn't say anything, but nodded from his slumped position.

"You know where we are?" she pressed, wanting to make sure.

"Home,"

"Good. Are you going to pass out?" she asked.

"Don't think so," he shook his head.

Katniss stood from her crouched position and grabbed the chair she'd been sitting in before Peeta's episode to pull it closer to his. She wrapped an arm around his chest and pulled him up straight so he was leaned back on the chair. His face was pale, eyes glassy, tear stains running down his cheeks. She reached forward and wiped the tears away with the sleeve of her shirt.

"That was a bad one huh?" she asked quietly.

"It felt so real..." he nodded.

"I know, but that's all over now I promise. We're here, together, and we're safe," she reassured him, knowing that he needed to hear her say it.

"Thank you," he said, forcing a smile. He sounded exhausted, like even the effort of saying those two words was almost too much. He hadn't had one of these episodes in a long time. Certainly not one this bad. It made sense that it had taken so much out of him.

"Let's go lay down," Katniss said, standing up and holding her hands out to help him up. He grabbed them, letting her pull him up and to their bedroom. They crawled back into bed, even though they'd only been up for a couple of hours. Peeta laid his head on her chest, her arm wrapped around his shoulders, holding him tight. He felt safe again.

"You love me, real or not real?" he whispered after a few minutes of silence.

"A million times real,"

#hunger games #katniss and peeta #hurt/comfort #ptsd #tw: vomit #vomit trigger warning #tw: ptsd #mockingjay #catching fire

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1heartsickfics · 3 months

Text

Sam Knows

I've had lots of ideas for fics recently but am having trouble being motivated to actually write them so I'm going to be doing a few short little drabbles just to get into the practice of writing again.

So here's a little supernatural ficlet. TBH this isn't set in any specific season/timeline so just assume that something traumatic has happened to Dean recently. Take your pick lol.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Oh, hey Cas?" Sam's voice came from behind him, making him jump. Cas spun around, blinking in surprise at why Sam was up and around at this hour.

"Sam. I didn't realize you were awake," Cas replied, seeing Sam coming down the hall from his room.

"Yeah I got caught up in some research and lost track of time, I'm on my way to bed now though," Sam shrugged, "I just wanted to ask you how Dean's doing."

"Oh. Well. You probably know just as well as I do," Cas shrugged.

"Maybe at one point, but I don't think that's true anymore. He trusts you Cas," Sam shook his head, chuckling lightly.

"He trusts you too Sam," Cas frowned, confused at Sam's comment.

"Well, yeah, I mean I know that. But he's spent his whole life taking care of me, protecting me. He doesn't know how to let me do the same for him. But I think he's learned how to let you in," Sam explained, smiling awkwardly as he struggled to put it into words.

He knew that Dean hadn't told Sam that him and Cas were... well, whatever they were. He wasn't sure how to handle this , he didn't want to upset Dean. It wasn't his place to tell Sam about their... situation.

"I think that he'll be okay, he just needs some time. But I mean you'd have to ask him," Cas answered slowly, choosing his words carefully.

"Come on Cas, I'm not stupid," Sam scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"You know?" Cas asked, realizing what Sam was implying.

"Of course I know. I've known for years," he said, obviously amused by their oblivion to his knowledge. "You guys think I didn't notice that your room is always empty even when you're here? Or how Dean's always happier when you're around?" he continued.

"Right..." Cas trailed off. They hadn't been as subtle as they thought apparently.

"So will you just be straight with me dude?"

Cas sighed. Sam was just worried about his brother, he deserved an honest answer. "He's not okay. But he will be. I've got him Sam, I promise," he said.

Sam nodded, taking a slow deep breath. "I'm glad that he has you. He's always on guard with me, you know, just cause he still feels like he's responsible for keeping me safe. But I think he feels safe with you."

"He doesn't sleep with a pistol under his pillow anymore. And he actually sleeps through the night, he never used to," Cas nodded.

"Thank you for taking care of my brother when he won't let me," Sam said, reaching out to squeeze Cas's shoulder before he turned to head back to his room to go to sleep.

"Always," Cas said quietly to himself. He would always take care of Dean.

#supernatural #cas and dean #destiel #fluff #cute destiel #hurt/comfort #sam winchester #dean winchester #castiel

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