#tw: fever

[sortofanobsession]

could you maybe write a fic where Jamie gets sick at an away game— whether it be anxiety, food poisoning, flu, etc. Maybe he sicks up in the middle of the night and Dani or Sam (I imagine they room together and are best friends) go get Roy and he’s very very sweet in his own Roy way to Jamie and then the next day on the bus Jamie still doesn’t feel good so he snuggles into Roy in the back of the bus?

I literally love your work so much and would absolutely die if you wrote this (plus my birthday is coming up (Jan 25th) so this would be so epic to read then))

Happy Early Birthday, Anon!

Here is worried Roy Kent, sick and confused Jamie, amused Keeley, #1 nurse Phoebe, and well, everyone else. Hope you like it.

A/N: I'm not a medical expert. I have asthma so I know a few things about raspatory issues. But this might not be the most accurate. And it's unbeta read, as usual.

Ted Lasso Masterlist

Ao3

Pairing: RoyJamie

word count: 4k+

Content warning: Illness, pneumonia, fever, coughing, vomiting (from coughing), panic, angst, sleep depravation, fear, swearing/cursing/cussing.

Fever in the Night

Roy Kent growls at the knock that would have woken him up if he had been asleep. He’d been reading and didn’t appreciate being interrupted. 

“Better be fucking dying,” He grumbles as he opens the door. “What?” he snaps at Sam Obisanya. 

“Sorry, Coach,” Sam nervously says. “But it’s Jamie.” 

And that has Roy moving before his tired brain catches up. He almost forgets to grab his room key and phone, but he isn't a fucking idiot, so he grabs them. Sam relaxes a tiny bit that Roy didn't argue or even swear as much as Sam had expected for it being 1 a.m. Roy feels uneasy when he looks up to see Dani Rojas and Jeff Goodman in the hall, both in the open door of the room Sam and Jamie shared. The four players have adjoining rooms. 

“What about Jamie?” Roy finally asks as he follows Sam.

“He's very sick,” a worried Dani Rojas says. Jeff nods. 

“Okay,” Roy says. He was tempted to ask them why the fuck they woke him and not the team’s doctor, but it was about Jamie Tartt. He'd be pissed if they didn't. He cares about Jamie. And he shoves that thought aside because he really shouldn't think like that. And Roy forgets it completely when he gets one look at Jamie. Jamie’s pale. His stupid fucking hair is sweat drenched and sticking to his face. 

“You two, out,” he says to Dani and Jeff by the door. 

“But-” Dani starts, but Roy glares. Jeff was smart enough to be back in his own room already.

“You have a fucking match, with or without Tartt, so fucking sleep. He'll be fucking fine.” 

The coach weighs his options before handing Sam his own room key. “You fucking too.”

“But coach-”

“Not going to fucking repeat it,” he snaps. 

“What about you?”

“Don't fucking argue.”

“Sorry, coach,” Sam says, but he hasn't moved. The room key and his phone gripped right in his hands. 

“I’ll call the physio team, now fucking go.”

Sam nods and silently leaves. Roy sighs once the doors are closed. As tired as he is, his fucking heart is pounding. Something is wrong with Jamie Tartt. And that twists something inside the gaffer. And despite the protest in his knee, he is kneeling down beside Jamie to get a good look at him. He should call the physio team. He needs the team’s doctor. Roy might know more than your average bloke when it comes to health, thanks to his sister, but he's no bloody expert. But he needs a bit more information first. He reaches up and carefully moves the hair out of Jamie's face. 

“Fucking hell,” he says when just his fingertips can feel the heat of a fever. Just to be sure, he places his palm on Jamie's forehead. And he squashes down whatever feeling is stirred up by how the sick striker shivers at the contact but still leans into it. 

“Fucking burning up,” Roy mutters to himself. 

He winces at the pain in his knee as he stands up. He tucks Jamie's blankets tighter around him. The gaffer is scrolling through his contacts to find the one he needs. He flips the light on in the ensuite and talks to the team's doctor as he grabs a flannel and wets it. As he hangs up the phone, he sets the damp cloth on Jamie's forehead. That's when the player’s eyes snap open. Confusion, followed by panic, flashed across the striker’s face. Because in Jamie's mind, if Roy Kent is there, then Jamie is running late for something, and Roy is probably pissed at him. Jamie hates when Roy is pissed at him. Jamie doesn't like disappointing Roy. 

“Easy, Tartt,” Roy says. “Fucking stay put.” Roy puts the fallen flannel back in place. “Try and relax.”

And as anxious as Jamie is, a command from Roy Kent is one that Jamie will follow. 

“Roy?” Jamie manages to ask. And the coach hates how tired, weak, and utterly confused Jamie seems. 

Before Roy can say anything else, a knock at the door makes Jamie flinch. Without thinking, Roy smoothes the younger man’s hair back in an attempt to calm him as he gets up. Roy’s always been better at physical gestures than words. And if that's what was needed to keep Tartt from panicking or hurting himself, well, then that was a no fucking brainer. He was going to fucking do it.

He lets the doctor into the room and silently hovers as the doctor deals with the striker. 

“Any other player showing symptoms?” the doctor asks the gaffer.

“Fuck if I know, Obisanya, Rojas, and Goodman just seemed fucking worried. Are we going to have a fucking team tomorrow?” 

“Guess we will see in the morning,” the doctor says. Roy gets a rundown on what needs to be done for Jamie. The coach leans his head against the cool wood of the door when he closes it behind the doctor. 

“Where's Sam?” Jamie asks, finally realizing that his roommate’s gone. And that concerns Roy a bit. Jamie is one of his most observant players. On and off the pitch, he tends to keep track of who is around him and where his mates are. He likes knowing where the people he cares about are. He was just noticing Sam’s absence now, which wasn’t a good sign. 

“Sent him off to get some fucking sleep,” Roy says. Several things had been dropped off at the room by either the physio team or hotel staff. Roy had been focused on the doctor and Jamie when it had happened. The gaffer hands the player a bottle of water. Jamie takes it without argument.

“Where?” Jamie glanced at Sam's empty bed. Roy rolls his eyes. 

“My room,” Roy answers, and that seems to surprise Jamie. Before the player can comment on the decision, Roy adds, “Not like I'm fucking using it.” And Roy regrets saying it at the way Jamie gets a sad look on his face. “It's fucking fine, Tartt. My fucking choice.” 

“But-”

“But someone needs to make sure you fucking rest.”

And Jamie hates that because he doesn't want to be a burden to anyone. 

“You don't need to-”

“Already fucking decided,” Roy states. “Just try and fucking sleep.” 

Roy is woken up by violent coughing, and he is out of bed without thinking. Helping raise Phoebe had him trained to be a light sleeper at times like these. Roy follows the sound to the loo. He knocks on the closed door. He didn't know if Jamie had coughed so hard he made himself vomit or vice versa. But from what he could hear, it was painfully obvious one of the two had occurred. The gaffer is glad to find the door unlocked and lets himself in. Jamie tries to argue and kick him out, but he is tired and shaking and can barely move. And that has something in Roy breaking. 

“Not fucking going anywhere, Tartt,” Roy says. As he grabs some water and sits beside Jamie. Jamie accepts the glass if only to rinse his mouth out. Roy can hear the way Jamie's lungs struggle, and that has Roy struggling not to panic. But he manages. He gets Jamie calmed down, cleaned up, and back in bed. Roy ends up texting his sister, who calls him. She asks him if Jamie has been sick recently, but then he remembers what Jamie had told him during training. He'd nearly choked to death at Ola’s over a joke one of the other idiots had told him. And fuck, Jamie couldn't catch a break. His sister tells him it sounds like aspiration pneumonia to her. He should have the doctor double-check, but hopefully, Jamie being a fit footballer will mean he can fight it off without too much trouble. He would need to keep a close eye on him. Hopefully, he wouldn't need to be admitted to hospital. And that had Roy’s blood running cold. A cold and a fucking joke. He sent a message to the physio team and went back to Jamie. 

The only good thing was that pneumonia wasn't inherently contagious. The cold Jamie had before it might be, but it was unlikely to take Sam, Dani, or Jeff out of the game. Jamie wouldn't be leaving the hotel the next morning. Roy really dreaded the idea, but he was already hitting the number on his phone. Keeley would have a lot to say about this at some point. She’d probably see right through him and know he cares more than he should for just being Jamie’s coach. But he needed help, and he knew Jamie trusted Keeley as much as Roy did. 

“Better be good, Roy,” Keeley says. She was clearly annoyed and not a fan of being woken at nearly 4 in the morning. 

“Fucking opposite, it's very fucking bad,” he says, and he sounds it. And she knows if Roy is that upset, it means one of three people was in a bad state. It must be Roy's sister, his niece, or Jamie Tartt. Roy and Jamie might both be her exes, but she knew them well enough to know that they were both idiots in love, just neither of them would admit it. And since it's an away match, it probably meant Jamie was the one having issues. 

“What's wrong? What happened?” She says, all annoyance gone and completely awake. “Is Jamie all right?”

Roy tells her what has happened since Sam knocked on his door. She tells him to keep doing what he's doing. She’ll stay with Jamie during the match. 

“Just let me text Rebecca, and I’ll be there,” Keeley tells him. Roy Kent doesn't argue. 

Roy is an anxious fucking mess throughout the whole match. He does his job. The team does theirs, but everyone feels like there is a gaping hole in the lineup. Even if they physically have a full team, thanks to Roberts. But Isaac had told them to win it for Jamie, and the fucking lads did. That would at least make Jamie feel better about having missed it. Colin Hughes and Dani Rojas had Sky Sports doing replays of goals. And post-game interviews had been more about Tartt than one would think for a game he wasn't in. Roy was just glad he’d had Jamie give Georgie a heads-up that he was sick before he left for the match. The striker listened to his mum as an amused Keeley kicked Roy out of the room. 

The team didn't even ask Roy if he was going out to celebrate the win. The gaffer hadn't even hung back for the bus. He didn't even change his clothes. He let Nathan Shelley to handle the press. He caught a ride back to the hotel, annoyed by the chatty driver, but he was cognizant enough to not verbally eviscerate the guy. He was just doing his job. Tipped the guy well. Not his fault Roy was a shit company. 

“You weren't joking,” Keeley grinned when she opened the door for Roy. Her voice was quiet.

“Said I'd be back after the match,” he stated as he tossed his jacket over a chair in the room. His tone matches hers. “How is he?” 

“Out cold. Whatever the new doctor gave him must be working.” 

Roy hummed. The hotel’s concierge had arranged for a local doctor to treat Jamie so the physio team could focus on the match. And Roy didn't even mind the outrageous fee that was going to cost them. He'd throw all the money he had at it, even though he knew Rebecca Welton would cover it in a heartbeat. She cared deeply for her team these days. And Roy could respect that. He did respect that about his boss. He glanced at the muted TV as Sky Sports blathered on about the game. Roy was glad it was silent. He could ignore the bullshit commentary on his coaching. They won. That's all that fucking mattered. 

“You need to leave?” Roy asked at the way Keeley's phone kept going off. 

“Maybe to take a few calls. Seems the internet is not satisfied with the team's explanation of Jamie's absence.”

“Fuck ‘em,” Roy says as he moves to check on Jamie himself.

“You would say that,” Keeley grins. “But it's my job to answer it. I'm his publicist, after all.”

“Fair,” Roy states, but he doesn't look at her. His eyes are locked on Jamie. He doesn't see the knowing look on Keeley's face. 

“Team should be here soon,” she tells him as she grabs her bag. “Text me if you need me.”

Roy grunts and nods. He finally looks up at her.

“Doctor said he’ll be back up in a few days,” she assures him. “Bus ride might suck, but we'll manage.”

After she leaves, Roy turns off the TV. He was glad he and Sam had switched rooms. He silently changes into more comfortable clothes and pulls a chair up next to the bed. He picks up the book he had been reading. He didn't get very far in his book. He was too distracted by the wheezing sound coming from Jamie. He knew the team was back as the noise level in the hall increased. He was about to go out and tell them all to shut the fuck up when someone beat him to it. There was a quiet knock on the door. 

He opens it to find Nathan Shelley.

“How is he?” the assistant coach asks.

“Sleeping, but it's not fucking great,” he tells him.

“Think he’ll be able to travel?” Nate asks.

“Can't fucking leave him here,” Roy says. 

“That's true, but it won't make him worse, will it?” 

“Not much to fucking do about it.”

Roy had bought Keeley a ticket back so she could meet them when they got back. She complained, but he was ordering her around, but she didn't really mean it. They were both worried about Jamie. And if she could help ease his pain after a long trip, then she would. 

Roy had triple-checked that he had everything packed up for both himself and Jamie. Dani and Jeff had taken their stuff down so Roy could focus on getting Jamie up and moving. No one says anything, but they watch curiously as Roy leads a pale Jamie to the far back of the bus. The players exchanged worried looks. It was going to be a long, tense ride back to Richmond. 

The bus was quiet, as it usually is during these late-night trips, but this was an uneasy silence. The entire bus would go painfully tense every time Jamie coughed. 

They were on the road for half an hour when Roy noticed Jamie was shaking. Roy couldn't imagine how shitty the striker must feel. Fever-induced chill on a fucking crowded bus. 

Jamie's eyes snap to his when Roy feels the ill man’s forehead for what feels like the millionth time. 

“You okay?” Roy asks quietly.

“Cold,” Jamie says. And Roy had already figured that out by the way Jamie not only avoided the cold glass of the window but also the way Jamie sort of chased the warmth of Roy's hand as he pulled away. How Jamie could be burning up but shivering cold had Roy thinking this was a terrible idea. He should have made better arrangements for Jamie. He should have extended their stay at the hotel, no matter the price, and sent the team back without them. Sure, there would be a lot of questions he didn't even want to answer to himself, let alone out loud, but he regrets not doing it. For Jamie's health and safety. Jamie was already wrapped in his usual blanket, a new one Keeley had given him, and Jamie's jacket. But it didn't seem to be enough. 

Roy hummed. 

Jamie's tired eyes watched as Roy dug through the bag he had with him. First, he makes Jamie take more meds. Jamie is vaguely aware of the quiet buzzing alarm on Roy’s phone. As he takes the meds, he sees Roy pull out a jumper from his bag. Roy kept it with him on trips like these in case a hotel or bus had a busted heater, and he needed extra layers. Jamie considers arguing, but he is just too exhausted to actually do it when Roy helps him out of his jacket and into the jumper. Instead of Jamie’s jacket, Roy's much thicker leather jacket, still warm from Roy wearing it, is wrapped around the striker. Jamie almost cries because it's warm and it smells like Roy, and it's overwhelmingly comforting to his fever-muddled mind. Roy must notice the glassy look in Jamie's already bloodshot eyes because without hesitation or protest, even at the odd looks from a few people around them, Roy shifts them both. Roy moves so he can lean against the window with Jamie's back to his chest. One foot on the floor to brace them both. And Jamie manages to get a bit more air than he had bundled up in the window seat. Roy was fucking warm, and Jamie just wanted to curl up in a ball and sleep in his lap, but his lungs hurt, and he could barely breathe as is. Thankfully, the bench at the back of the bus they were on was a bit longer than the normal seats, and Roy could stretch his knee out. They still had nearly 5 hours on the bus. Jamie’s eyelids felt heavy when Roy pulled the blankets back around him. The violent chills finally eased a bit. Jamie didn't know if it was from the meds or how blissfully warm Roy fucking Kent was, but he felt just a tiny bit more human.

“Quit fighting it and fucking sleep, Tartt,” Roy said. Jamie chuckles, but it turns into a wheezing cough that earns concerned luck from the teammates who are sitting nearby. The striker doesn't see the way Roy silently waves them off, too distracted by the way Roy’s arm holds him tight, a hand on his chest to keep him from falling to the floor. Roy's other hand starts rubbing Jamie's back until he can pull an exhausted Jamie back against his chest.

“Just try and breathe, Jamie,” Roy's voice is in his ear, sending a shiver down Jamie’s spine. “Let the medicine work. Nothing else matters. Just fucking breathe.”

Jamie whines slightly because all he wants to do is tuck his face in Roy's next and probably cry.

Roy Kent’s heart fucking shattered at the weak noise that Jamie makes, and he can't take it. He wraps his arms as tight around Jamie as he dares with how much the striker is already struggling to breathe. And he plants a kiss on Jamie's temple.

“It's okay, Jamie,” the older man assures. “I've got you.” And that seems to do the trick because Jamie’s hands wrap around Roy's wrist. So the coach adds, “I'm not going anywhere.” And Roy starts quietly telling Jamie about his first time in Newcastle as a kid when he’d been training in Sunderland. His hushed words continue until Jamie is fast asleep against him. 

About halfway through the trip, Coach Beard comes to check on them. He isn't surprised that Jamie is passed out. Nor is he shocked to find Roy Kent wide awake. The gaffer might be exhausted, and on night two, he has no sleep, but he is wide awake. Beard hands him a water bottle. One Roy accepts because he was sort of trapped where he is. 

“You good?” Beard asks. Roy nods because as painfully asleep his leg might be, and as achy his bad knee is, he'd endure it if it meant Jamie slept. Jamie had spent much of the first hour of the trip trying to get comfortable. The fact he had slept long enough for Roy to get sore was good. 

“Fucking fine,” Roy grumbles. 

“You sure?” Nate asks when he appears over Beard’s shoulder. “We could help you-” 

He is cut off by a low growl from Roy. “You fucking wake him, and you’ll be picking your teeth up out the aisle.” 

“Right, yeah, got it,” Nate says before disappearing, presumably back to his seat. Beard just nods and hands him the book Roy had set aside. 

Roy can feel the rattle in Jamie's lungs worsening as the meds wear off, and Jamie starts to wake up. Thankfully, they were only about 45 minutes out from the dog track now. 

Roy gently shushes him as a bump in the road jostles everyone on board, earning a pained whine from the ill man. “It's okay, Jamie,” Roy tells him. “Nearly there, then we can go home and get you in bed.” 

And it's like a knife in Roy's heart that Jamie is too tired and sick to make a snippy comeback or stupid innuendo. Like all the humor and joy was being drained from the player. And Roy hated it. As much as he acted annoyed or put out by Jamie, he fucking adored him. Wouldn't change the man Jamie had grown into for the fucking world.

On the contrary, he'd fucking fight anyone that doubted Jamie. Because Roy Kent was fucking gone on Jamie Tartt. The arrogant prick stole his heart at some point, and Roy hadn't even fucking noticed. His sister and Keeley were never going to let him live this down. And he'd endure it as long as Jamie was okay.

Jamie worried as he watched how Roy had to grip the seats as they exited the bus. Roy is slower than usual. Jamie might be sick, but he knew Roy. He could identify Roy while blindfolded by footsteps alone. The slight limp and the way Roy leans heavily on the railing with each step down makes Jamie’s brows furrow.

“Fucking stop it,” Roy says when his eyes meet Jamie's. 

“Your knee-” 

“Is fucking fantastic. You going to just fucking stand there or what?” 

Keeley's laugh has Jamie looking behind him.

“You two are a sight,” she grins. 

“Did you-”

“Course I did, Roy-o,” she smiles. “Let's get you home, babe,” she says to Jamie, and he is too tired and confused to argue. He nearly panics when he notices Will helping Roy along, but Keeley's warm hand pats Jamie’s chest. “He's okay, just a long ride,” Keeley tells him. “Telling either of you not to worry is a waste, but I can tell you, he doesn't regret it. Now, in you go.” She helps him into Roy’s G-Wagon with little argument. He is surprised when Roy gets in the back beside him, and Keeley gets behind the wheel. Roy doesn't often let others drive his car. But then again, this is Keeley.

“Jamie?” The striker's eyes snap up and he meets Keeley’s in the rearview mirror before Keeley looks away to meet Roy’s. 

“Hmm?”

“She asked if you were fucking hungry,” Roy tells him, and the worried look on Roy's face has a familiar feeling in Jamie's gut returning. 

“I'm knackered more than anything,” Jamie says.

“I get that,” Keeley says. “Be home soon.”

Jamie must fall asleep because the next thing he knows, he's waking up in his own bed, unsure how he got there. He tries to put the pieces together, but he comes up short. 

“Good, you're awake.”

“Phoebe?” Jamie asks because Roy Kent’s niece is in the doorway to his bedroom.

“Hang on, I have to tell my mum.”

“Your mum?” Jamie mutters, but she is gone. So Phoebe and her mum were there. Jamie’s tired brain tries to remember what happened to cause this to happen. 

“Well, your colour's better,” Roy's sister says as she walks in. 

“You're in my house?” 

She nearly laughs at his confused look. Phoebe giggles.

“Well, yeah,” Phoebe says like it's the most obvious fact in the universe. “Uncle Roy let us in.”

“Uncle Roy,” Jamie mutters.

“My brother begrudgingly went to training,” the doctor tells him. She uses a stethoscope to check his breathing. Jamie coughs as she does. “Rough,” she tells him. “But better than it was.”

“Uncle Roy said it was something like popcorn popping while rattling a jar of change, and when you pinch a balloon as it deflated.”

Jamie’s laughs turn into a wheezing coughing fit at the odd description. He startles slightly as a funny mask meets his face, but he looks over at the doctor as she turns on a machine. 

“Yeah, she asked him, and that's how he explained it,” the amused mother said as she looked at her daughter. “Nebulizer,” she taps the machine. “Help get those lungs to open up faster. Make it easier to breathe.” She goes on to tell him how it works. 

“So,” Jamie says despite the mask muffling his speech. “You…have…Babysitting…duty?” 

He doesn't miss the worried look on Phoebe's face as he has to break between each word, but her mum just squeezes her knee, where she sits on the side of Jamie's bed. Phoebe's hands were too busy holding Jamie's hand. And that makes Jamie smile behind the mask. He was always happy to see Phoebe. Sure, this was a weird visit, but he was glad she was there. Being sick was awful. But it was easier when you had people that cared around you. 

“My brother insisted Phoe was the best nurse for the job.” And the smile the girl gave them did wonders to heal Jamie's heart. She was a ball of sunshine. Jamie was still trying to figure out how they got there when he remembered that Keeley had driven Jamie and Roy to Jamie's flat. Roy must have stayed. 

“His knee?” Jamie asks, sure that Roy's sister would know.

“Fine, after he iced it,” she tells him. “Or as fine as it ever is.” She shrugs. “Although if he doesn't start wearing the brace again on bad days, I'm going to kick him in it.”

“That's not very nice, mum,” Phoebe says.

“Neither is your uncle when his knee hurts, so seems fair,” her mum grins. Jamie chuckles. “Medication must be working. We got a laugh that didn't turn into a cough.”

“Yay!” Phoebe cheered, and Jamie smiled. The pair stayed, and Phoebe told him all about the match he had missed. As much as it hurt him to know he had let his team down, the colourful commentary from an 8-year-old made it easier to stomach. 

Roy had let himself in with Jamie’s keys and followed his niece’s laugh to find them all in Jamie's room. His sister turned off the nebulizer. And the icy grip around the gaffer's heart eases slightly at the smile on Jamie's face as the mask was set aside. 

“Uncle Roy's here!” Phoebe announced. 

“How's the best medical team doing?” Roy asks. 

“Great!” Phoebe grins. 

“And the patient?” Roy adds. And Jamie is stunned at the strange dichotomy on the gaffer's face. He looks exhausted. He has bags under his eyes. At the same time, there is a spark in his eyes. A smile on his face as he leans against the door frame. And Jamie feels butterflies when Roy looks at him. It's not the first time he's felt it. He's always craved Roy's attention. Even when they were both playing for Richmond, Jamie would go out of his way to antagonize his captain. Getting to see Roy content with his family was something Jamie always considered special.

“Much better,” Phoebe answers. “He managed to laugh without coughing.” 

“Oh really?” Roy asks with amusement. 

“He had the nebulizer on at the time, but it means we're on the right track,” Roy's sister tells him. “That and his fever finally broke.”

Jamie hadn't even realized that he didn't feel feverish anymore. 

“That's great,” Roy says. The gaffer feels himself relaxed. Jamie was getting better. 

Roy watches as his sister gets up from the chair beside Jamie's bed. She reaches a hand out to Phoebe. “Come on, Phoe, soup-making time,” she says. Phoebe gives both Jamie and Roy a hug as she leaves. Roy can't help but grin at the dopey smile on Jamie's face. 

“Wait, soup making? Do I even have the stuff for that?” Jamie asks, and Roy gets a bit uneasy again. 

“You do now,” Roy says as he moves to take the seat his sister had been in. 

“Since when?” 

And Roy gives him an odd look. 

“Since yesterday.”

“Did Keeley get them before we got back?”

“No,” Roy answers. “Jamie, you've been in and out of it for a couple of days since we got back.”

“What?” And he remembers that Roy's sister had said Roy was at training. They usually had the day off after long travel away matches like that. 

“A couple days?”

“You okay?” Roy asks as Jamie coughs. 

Jamie winces. He felt terrible thinking about how many nights of sleep he had ruined for Roy. 

“You should go home,” Jamie says when he can finally speak again. 

“Already here,” Roy states.

“I know, but…” Jamie starts. “You need sleep.”

“And you need to recover, so here we fucking are,” Roy tells him. 

“I know, but-”

“I can fucking assure you that I will not sleep better in my own fucking bed. Probably worse because no one is here to look after your dumb arse.”

“But my fever broke, and I'm feeling-”

“You just had a coughing fit,” Roy says with a glare.

“But I didn't throw up or pass out, so I’m-”

“Fucking hell,” Roy says, rubbing at his tired eyes. “Fuck it.” A stunned Jamie watches as Roy climbs into bed beside him. “Now will you shut the fuck up and sleep.”

Jamie woke up feeling warmer than he had in a long time. He felt better too. His lungs still felt like crappy, but he didn't care as much. 

#tw: illness #tw: pneumonia #tw: fever #tw: coughing #tw: vomiting #tw: panic #tw: fear #tw: sleep depravation #tw: swearing #tw: cussing #tw: cursing #royjamie #jamie x roy #roy x jamie #roy kent #jamie tartt #prompt fill #ted lasso fic #keeley jones

[in-love-with-writing-whump]

Prompt

Whumpee gets injured out in the field. They come back, trying to play it off as no big deal, but Caretaker can tell something is off, so they send them to the medic.

Whumpee comes back to Caretaker, barely remembering what the medic said. They try to get some work done, but pass out at their desk. Caretaker brings them to bed, concerned.

When Whumpee wakes up freezing with chills and a fever, Caretaker promises to take care of them and has to get medic again.

#tw: infection #tw: injury #tw: fever #tw: chills #tw: sickness #whumpee #stoic whumpee #tw: hidden injury #caretaker #whump prompt

[frau-rainyfox]

I love this Paul and Keel moment.

#abc miracles #paul callan #alva keel #miraclesedit #whump #whumpedit #tw: blood #tw: fever #tw: shot #paul and alva moments #8 episode #my gif pack #The Battle at Shadow Ridge

[kish-go-squish]

I have a fever atm so I’m vibing but /neg this time

I’ve been sick on and off for the past few days

#tw: sickness #tw: fever

[mybeautifulbeautifuleternal]

You had to manually shut off the comms. It was a process and a half and you were pretty sure that you pulled out more wires than you should have but they were off. It was just in time too. The fever had been steadily getting worse the past few hours and you knew the hallucinations were going to start showing up. It was unfortunate but you had the immune system that caught the flu what seemed like every season which then mutated into something designed to kill you.

The Healers in the Halls of Healing and your clone medic, Needles, had hated dealing with you sometimes. They had had plans in place to shore up your shoddy immune system but now you suffered alone, purposely shut off from the Force with a wrecked comm system. The hallucinations were always the worst part of the week-long sickness, capable of talking you into ridiculous situations. This was the first time post the genocide of the Jedi that you’d come down with it and you were taking all the precautions you could.

Your ship was free floating in the legit middle of nowhere, all nonessential (and some of the essential) systems shut down, the comms system specifically were mutilated so you couldn’t use them, and you had found a truly excellent pair of Force suppression cuffs. You weren’t taking any chances of getting caught.

You had a pretty good idea of who’d you see and didn’t want them to be the cause of your death. The Jedi, now dead, would prompt you to reach into the Force to look for them and that would signal the Inquisitors. Ace and the rest of your clone troopers would prompt you to try to hail them on the comms which would alert the Stormtroopers.

There weren't any good options for you to take but this seemed like it was the best one available. You just crossed your fingers, hoped for the best, and surrendered yourself to the Fever.

“General. Where are you?” Ace sounded worried, so you determinedly opened your eyes despite the pain. You didn’t want to let him down.

@summer-of-whump

#summer of whump #summerofwhump #summer of whump [day 20] #summerofwhump[day20] #sow #sow day 20 #Day 20 #tw: fever #tw: sickness #tw: hallucinations #tw: order 66 #tw: genocide #tw: alone #Star Wars #star wars clone wars #star wars drabbles #Star Wars clone wars drabble #clone wars #the clone wars #the clone wars drabble #clone wars drabble #my stuff #m’s drabbles

[theallblue]

♒ ((Yessss))

High Fever |still accepting|

It was difficult for Sanji to recall the last time that he had been sick enough to keep him from wandering about, was it when he was a young child? Was it after those hungry teeth sunk into his skin? It was true that he didn't recall the following days after that until he managed to wake up inside the room that he had collapsed in. It was that bite that soon became a scar, a scar that became apart of him even though he was determined to keep it hidden. It was best to keep it hidden because it was unknown how the people would react once the truth came out.

Luffy was the one who learned about his secret first though, a secret that easily could have caused him to turn tail because he didn't know how he was going to react. Luffy was his friend though, Luffy was someone that Sanji could trust. That was even before their bond became something more then just friends, he just didn't know what to call their relationship, at first. Not until they were able to discuss their feelings, not until they were both able to admit those words when behind the closed door of the place that was their home.

He was trying his best to hide the illness that lingered over his head, the warmth that stuck to his skin, but it would prove difficult unless he could get Luffy to focus on something else. This probably wasn't the best decision that Sanji had made, but he had managed to talk Luffy into another outing to find things to bring back to their shared home. He thought that it was the best way to distract him from what he was trying to hide again, he didn't want to cause him anymore worry then what he already has. A bad habit that he unfortunately had even before the world decided to end into the chaos that it was now. Besides, it wasn't difficult to see that that familiar itch to get outside these walls was starting to appear again because of how bouncy the other was. He knew that Luffy wanted to do something, anything.

During the walk to a place that might possibly have some good supplies in it, Sanji did his best to reassure Luffy that he was okay. They needed to get inside before any unfriendly faces decided to make an appearance whether they be living or not, it was best not to stay standing on this street for long. The task at hand was important.

While searching among the many shelves that surrounded them, the world suddenly tilted as he failed to catch himself causing the ground to come rushing into his field of vision. The items that had already been gathered clattering across the floor. He couldn't make sense of what happened then everything just faded into darkness.

@erraticoptimism

#theallblue #erracticoptimism #m: sanji #v: a bitten survivor #tw: zombie apocalypse #tw: fever #tw: fainting #(ahh the angst will be fun for this one)

[mkayswritings]

I know that this is very late, but the first prompt for sicktember 2022 has been posted! I never finish these writing challenges on time anyways xd. I hope you enjoy KinnPorsche fans.

Now to figure out what I am going to tackle next.

#mkayswritings #sicktember 2022 #sicktember #kinnporsche #kinnporsche the series #kinn anakinn theerapanyakul #porsche pachara kittisawat #tw: fever #tw: exhaustion #tw: sick character

[spinzolliii]

God, I love sickfics that cut between a Whumpee’s current illness, and illnesses they’ve had in the past. Before, being sick was traumatic and lonely. Maybe they were neglected or even ostracized for their illness. In the present day, they don’t know how to handle being loved.

#cold whump #fever whump #physical whump #sick whump #whump #whump prompt #whump tropes #whumpblr #whumpee #illness whump #tw trauma #tw neglect #sickfic #sick #sickness #fanfic #caretaker #caretaking #hurt/comfort #angst #angst and hurt/comfort #angst and fluff

[firbolgfriend]

I made this disease explanation last week for tt and forgot to post it here

#mlp infection au #my little pony #mlp #mlp horror #mlp infected au #body horror #? #tw blood #idk it’s a cartoon horse but better safe than sorry ig #also I didn’t forget I just don’t like how it turned out #it was just a quick variation of swamp fever to explain why flutter shy was a tree lol #sweet feather diet

[cheesecakethots]

Part 2 to this.

He had never been so caring for another, the guard noted. Lord Scaramouche was not the caring type, after all.

Despite that, the man had watched the lord express actual worry for you, the one huddled away in his tent as he barked orders at soldiers to find medicine, make warm soup, and heat up water. One of them had had his fingers broken for making the food too cold for the harbingers liking.

On the very few occasions the guard was permitted inside the tent, he had caught glimpses of the lord knelt beside your feverish figure in bed, the back of his hand softly resting on your forehead. If they had been any longer in finding you…

The few medics in camp were situated nearby, with any and all injuries not held by you being mostly ignored for the time being. You had barely been conscious for the past few days, slipping in and out, with some mumbled and confusing phrases leaving chapped lips.

The guard is brought out of his memories when Lord Scaramouche passes him, dramatically parting the tent covering and entering with a few quick strides. He immediately makes a beeline for your cold, limp body tucked away in bed.

Scaramouche places a hand to your cheek. His frown deepens, and you groan, glazed over eyes opening only a fraction.

“M…Mother?”

A sigh escapes him. His soulmate really is pitiful… and weak.

“… You’re safe now,” he mutters, surprised for a moment at the tinge of emotion in his own voice.

“Do… I have to help c…cook dinner?”

“No. You’ll never be doing that again.”

“Oh… okay…” A yawn leaves your throat.

“Go to sleep.”

“Can we have… chocolate later? I bought some… to share,” you murmur, trailing off until your breathing becomes light, and your eyes fully close.

The lord sighs. A shiver wracks through your body, despite the multiple animal hides you have on. He’s certain that his men have destroyed the surrounding ecosystem just to keep you warm, but, oh well.

He stands, hesitantly turning away from you. You need more blankets, maybe some more soup, anything to keep the fever from taking you away from-

Oh. His eyes widen, and he glances back to you, and then at the shaking hand pulling on his fingers.

“Don’t… leave me…”

You’re still asleep. It’s not as though you’re conscious and would know if he left, is it? It’s not as though your plea is anything more than some deluded fairytale in your mind, is it?

“I won’t.”

Curses.

Curse him, and curse you for awakening something he didn’t think he had, something in his chest that for centuries he was sure was simply an empty void of nothing.

He wants to scoff and leave you here, to tell you that he has no need for someone as weak as you in his life. He wishes he had left you tied to that tree and just kept moving, that he had never felt the touch of your skin against his own. That he had felt absolutely nothing, that he hadn’t felt a stab of fear for the first time in a long time when carrying your freezing cold body back to camp. It would’ve saved him a lot of trouble.

He doesn’t let go of your hand for a long, long while.

The next morning he leaves you alone for a short time, an hour at most. He regrets it when he comes back to you standing on two wobbly knees, the parts that make him up jolting at the sight.

“What are you doing?!”

You flinch, yelping when you abruptly turn to him and lose your balance. Hands, ones that send a feeling of static and electricity straight to your very core, are soon grasping onto you, holding you up before you can hit the ground.

“Are you daft?” The man spits out, visibly aggravated.

“Wh-What? What?”

“Get back in bed. I won’t ask you again.”

You don’t move, the sensation that comes with his touch only growing the longer the two of you stand.

“You’re… you’re…?” You whisper, eyes widening.

He pauses, the irritation in his expression dropping a little. After a beat, his lips part.

“… Yes.”

“We were in the woods, right? My village, they…”

Any softness on his face is wiped away the moment you mention your old home, and the people that resided in it. No longer waiting, he lightly pushes you back, leading you into the makeshift bed below. A blanket is soon wrapped around your quivering shoulders.

“Eat this,” he orders, pulling something out of his pocket and holding it close to your lips.

Chocolate.

“I’m not-“

“Eat.”

You tentatively take it from him, and the atmosphere grows awkward, at least for you, while he watches you chew on the rest of it.

“Thank you, it was delicious,” you tell him, truthfully. You haven’t had chocolate in a long time, as it was simply too expensive for your family to afford. Your mouth curves downwards into a frown.

“Rest.”

You don’t. You’re not sure if you can.

“My family, they let them take me. They didn’t… they didn’t stop them. They must…” A gasp is torn from you, and you meet his eyes once more. “How long has it been?”

“… Three days.”

You begin rise to your shaky feet, “I-I must go back, they’ll think that I’m-!”

He pushes you back down effortlessly.

“Are you a fucking fool?”

You can’t help but flinch at the absolute venom in his tone, but he isn’t done yet, towering over you.

“What do you think will happen if you go back, hm? That they’ll accept you with open arms, or they’ll send you right back to where I found you? Or, better yet, maybe they’ll set you alight there and then, rather than troubling themselves in having you freeze to death, they’ll instead watch you burn. Would you like to test if your family would spare you from that? Hm?”

You have never felt this small in your entire life.

“I-“

“Enough.” It appears the question was rhetorical, and your mouth closes, quickly feeling very dry.

His chest shudders with each deep breath he draws in, and he closes his eyes shut for a moment, seemingly trying to calm himself.

“Sleep. We have a long journey ahead of us. Don’t ask me anymore stupid questions,” he turns on his heel, most likely deciding that he has something better to do. However, before he fully departs, he pauses at the entrance to the tent, still not looking back at you.

“You deserve better than that village, than that family who threw you out as though you were nothing to them. Know that I do not plan on doing the same, and that you… aren’t nothing to me.”

The intimidation you feel from him dimishes when you catch sight of the pinkish tinge to the tips of his ears. He doesn’t wait for your response, swiftly departing. You miss the few words of parting he gives you, as you tuck yourself into bed.

“Besides, it’s not as though you have anything to go back to, anymore.”

#not sure how i feel about this one #kinda love it kinda am put off by my writing style at points #oh well #i have plans for a part 3 😈 #give me time tho and don’t spam me for it #i had a fever recently and woke up and forgot like everything about myself for a solid 20 mins #so this is a little self-indulgent #tw yandere #tw.yandere #yandere #yanderecore #yandere scaramouche #yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere scara #scaramouche x reader #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin imagines

[ourstaturestouchtheskies]

Angels Adoring the Heart of Jesus - Vincent López Portaña (detail) // Elizabeth I as a Princess - attributed to William Scrots (detail) // The Relief of Genoa by the Marquis of Santa Cruz - Antonio de Pereda (detail) // Saint Cecilia - Cesare Dandini (detail) // King - Florence + the Machine

#saint cecilia #elizabeth i #king #dance fever #florence + the machine #florence and the machine #fatm #art #art history #lyrics #lyric art #tw human heart

[in-love-with-writing-whump]

Prompt

Whumpee, who has been working endlessly with little to no sleep, starts to feel super sick- fever, chills, sore throat. But they still keep working, ignoring their need foe rest.

When Caretaker witnesses them passing out, they take care of Whumpee.

#whumpee #whump prompt #caretaker #tw: fever #tw: overwork #tw: exhaustion #tw: sickness #tw: unconsciousness

[frau-rainyfox]

#abc miracles #paul callan #alva keel #whump #whumpedit #tw: blood #tw: shot #tw: fever #poor paul #paul and alva moments #8 episode #The Battle at Shadow Ridge #my gif pack #miraclesedit

[little-pup-pip]

I'm still sickkkkk

#this one isn't quite like my others #because it's just self indulgent nonsense #i didn't do anything like this last time #but i feel a little better this illness compared to the last one #i have a fever and chills so this is very warm toned #i hope you enjoy #as always #sfw interaction only #moodboard #sfw agere #age regression #agere #sfw littlespace #agere moodboard #age dreaming #food #cw food #tw medication #tw illness #? #idk thats probably a thing #i hate being sick

[one-time-i-dreamt]

Absolutely heartbroken to read that Moonbin has passed away at age 25.

I would like to offer my deepest condolences to his family, friends, loved ones and fans.

Mental health issues need to be taken seriously.

Don't be afraid to reach out to people you think are struggling, please, and take care of yourselves.

May he rest in peace.

#not a dream #writing this witha fever so hopefully no mistakes #moonbin #astro #death tw #suicide tw #kpop #music

[theallblue]

‘ you’re not going anywhere today. ’ (from Rayleigh)

CARING FOR SICK MUSES |still accepting|

Rayleigh was an interesting character from the moment that Sanji and others met him on Sabaody, but that was a place where they wouldn't depart from so on. Not until two years passed, not until they had two years to grow stronger because of the dangers that were out there. These seas held too many unknowns which was something that the man obviously experienced, he had seen plenty while traveling with the former King of the Pirates.

Something that Sanji was now experiencing for himself because of the push that he got from the man he considered as a father. Zeff wanted him to experience what he had when he traveled these very same seas as a pirate. It has been nothing, but a crazy adventure. One that he wasn’t regretting in the least though, he was happy to be standing on this ship that he called home. A ship that was filed with a tight knit crew of pirates who would have plenty of stories to tell. Stories that easily belonged in a child’s storybook.

It was a surprise when Rayleigh decided to make an appearance on said ship after dealing with another difficult fight. One that seemed to last for days even when they were able to leave the recent island, another island that was free from the threat that lingered over the people. It would be a lie to say that the crew was exhausted. Everyone was feeling it, mentally and physically. They were waiting for the right chance to rest which hopefully was going to happen now that it seemed they were no longer being followed.

The injuries received weren’t helping either especially in Sanji’s case, he had a good number dealt on him. Enough to where it warranted the concern of everyone especially Chopper’s.

Injuries and exhaustion that eventually caught up with him despite trying to act like everything was okay. It hurt, everything just hurt before the conversations and the faces of his friends started to blur together.

Someone must have noticed while a hand briefly rested against his forehead after Sanji finally had the chance to lay down. He was exhausted, he wanted nothing more but to sleep the day away. Whose hand did it belong to? It obviously wasn’t someone from his crew or Chopper’s.

It was hard to wrap his muddled mind around anything while he could barely notice the figures that loomed by his bedside. He was going in and out of consciousness taking in the bits and pieces that managed to fill his vision. He probably was easily delirious, not that Sanji could tell.

For some reason, Luffy’s loud voice managed to break through the confusion about wanting something to eat. It was Sanji’s job to make the meals for the crew, was it time for them to eat? Did he need to get up and make their next meal for the day? He couldn’t let them starve, he wasn’t going to let them starve. He wasn’t going to let them experience what he did.

The determination to remove himself from that bed was quickly halted by the hands that grasped at his shoulders. He wasn’t going anywhere? That didn’t make sense, he just needed to go to the kitchen… he needed to feed his crew mates

“But… they need to eat…”

#theallblue #mearizus #m: sanji #v: black leg sanji #(ahh my poor son) #(but I finally get to use that icon lol) #(I hope this is okay!) #tw: injuries #tw: fever