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shion-yu · 2 months

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A Safe Place (part 1) [Day 28]

Cliff shows up at Elliot's doorstep in the middle of the night soaked to the bone. A Cliff/Elliot sickfic heavy on the angst, also ft. Theo. For @monthofsick Day 28: Chaotic body temperature. I know, not me joining in on a writing challenge right at the end but it fit so well. 3,065 words, original work, TWs for homophobia, emeto (neither strong warnings, but the sick will get much sicker in p2).

It had been a long summer. Cliff had spent it working at Theo's law firm again, except this time he wasn't an unpaid intern but a legal secretary. It was a temporary job that they had offered him when his summer break had aligned perfectly with one of the secretary's maternity leaves and Cliff had jumped at the chance to work in such a great environment again. He was happy to see many familiar faces from last year, and to his surprise they were happy to see him too. Although he was mainly working with one of the other partners this time - not Theo - he saw the lawyer nearly every day and was relieved to learn both Theo and his partner, Al, were in good health. Al had gotten a double lung transplant that last Fall, Theo told Cliff. He and his new lungs were doing great.

"What about you?" Theo asked Cliff eagerly. "How did your first year at NYU go?"

Cliff smiled, automatically thinking of Elliot. "It was great," he said. "My classes were interesting but not too hard."

"You look happier," Theo said, surprising Cliff with how true the observation was. "Did something cause that?"

"Yeah," Cliff said thoughtfully. "Someone did."

Being apart from Elliot that summer was difficult. He missed hugging and kissing Elliot every single day. He wanted to talk to him on the phone for hours and hours just to hear his voice and fall asleep with his fingers in Elliot’s curls. But when he was living at home, Cliff knew he had to be the perfect, straight laced child he'd been raised as. In other words, he couldn't be himself. He wore business attire to work every day, but the soft sweaters and cute hair clips he'd amassed over the past year stayed packed away in his college stuff for next semester. He didn't think his parents would appreciate those particular fashion choices he'd been making.

It's not like his parents made it hard to hide things. They hardly ever asked questions, and if they did it was about grades or tuition. Cliff knew he was incredibly lucky that his parents paid his entire tuition, room and board as if it were a given. Elliot's parents weren't able to help much financially, meaning his boyfriend had to take out loans and work part time while in school. This summer he was working nonstop in his dad's auto mechanic shop, saving up money. Often when Cliff video called Elliot these days he was covered in sweat, streaks of black motor oil on his face. It seemed wrong to complain about his parents when it was thanks to them that he was only working this summer because he wanted to, not because he had to. And yet, silently, Cliff thought maybe he'd be happier if he was in Elliot's shoes - without much money but with a place he could really call home. It was a selfish, privileged thought and Cliff refused to voice it, but it creeped in each time he heard Elliot's mom call in the background, "Boys, wash up, it's time for dinner!"

Working was a blessing to Cliff, because if he'd been at home he would've been in that big, lonely house all by himself most of the summer. Being at the law firm was not only a distraction, but comfortable. Despite wearing a suit, Cliff actually felt less tense there than at his parents' house. He stayed long hours, longer than he needed to, because he preferred the sound of printers and fax machines over his parents screaming at each other downstairs. When he was in high school it seemed easier to ignore. Maybe it was because he'd had a break for so many months that returning to it seemed worse than before. Or maybe it was because Elliot never screamed at him like that, and Cliff had started to realize that this wasn't how things had to be.

Around the beginning of August, Cliff caught a cold that didn't seem to go away. At first it was just the sniffles, and then it was a cough that grew progressively deeper with each week that passed. The other employees started asking him if he was alright, and embarrassingly Theo caught him staring blankly at the water fountain one day for far too long. Cliff was so out of it that he didn't even notice Theo calling his name until the older man waved his hand in Cliff's face.

"Oh," Cliff said, rubbing his eyes to try and make his blurry vision clear up. "Sorry, I was just... Daydreaming."

"You look pale," Theo said, and before Cliff could step back Theo had placed a hand on Cliff's forehead while ignoring Cliff's protest that he was fine. "Hmm, you feel a little feverish. Why don't you go home, kid?"

"I'm really fine," Cliff said, wildly embarrassed. "It's just a cold."

Theo looked him up and down, clearly assessing how pushy he should be. "At least go take a nap on the couch in my office, you look exhausted."

Usually, Cliff would say no immediately. He wouldn't even consider showing weakness at the place he was supposed to be making a vitally good impression at for his career. But he felt weak and a little dizzy and found himself saying in a small voice, "...If you're sure."

Theo was sure. He brought Cliff to his office and shut the blinds so there wasn't much light coming through the many glass windows. He even tossed a blanket to the eighteen-year-old. "I sleep here all the time," he reassured Cliff. "You can't work if you're too tired to think. Don't worry about it."

Cliff felt guilty for taking over Theo's office, but Theo headed out for a two hour meeting and Cliff was left alone on the couch. He had half a mind to leave and get back to work at his desk now that there was no one stopping him, but just sitting there made him realize how fatigued his whole body felt. A little nap wouldn't hurt, he reasoned. A really short one. He lay down and fell asleep so quickly that he didn't even remember closing his eyes.

He woke up to Theo gently rubbing his shoulder. Cliff was confused, then his eyes widened in embarrassment and he sat up. Shit, had it been two hours already? Wait, that clock didn't say 5pm did it? - surely he hadn't slept for four hours?!

"Woah, it's okay Cliff," Theo said quickly, "You seemed really tired so I let you sleep. You should go home now, everybody's leaving for the day."

"I'm so sorry," Cliff gushed, face bright red. "I didn't mean to sleep so long. You don't have to pay me for today - please don't, actually."

"Settle down, it's really fine," Theo said in a calm voice that made Cliff remember to take a deep breath like Elliot had taught him to calm down. "We all have off days. You don't feel so warm now, so that's good. Stay home tomorrow though."

"That's totally not necessary," Cliff said, his confident tone supplemented by a very unconvincing round of dry coughs. He waved off the tissues Elliot tried to hand him. "Really, I'm fine. I've just been having some asthma since I got sick last winter, but my boy-" Cliff stopped himself, realizing he was about to out himself. "My, um, my roommate got me an inhaler so I just have to use it that's all."

"Your boyfriend," Elliot supplied gently. "It's okay to say it, Cliff. You know I have Al."

Cliff wanted to deny the comment outright. He wanted to laugh and say Elliot really was just a friend. But Theo had such an earnest expression, and he was the only successful adult man Cliff knew of who was gay. "I know, but, it's really not, not for me," Cliff found himself saying, voice wavering. "I-I have to go. Sorry I slept in your office so long," he said as he hurried out, ignoring Theo's all too kind voice calling after him. Cliff knew in a certain world that it was okay, but it wasn't his world. Not the world where he still relied on his parents.

Despite saying he'd be back the next day, Cliff did stay home that Friday. His fever was worse and he had chills that left him huddled under the covers. His mom didn't notice he didn't leave the house and he didn't tell her. She didn't need to know, just like she didn't need to know about Elliot. She had never supported Cliff in anything at all, so why... Why did Cliff feel such a strong urge to tell her?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

On the last day of Cliff's work at the law firm, Theo told Cliff if he ever needed a reference, he'd get a glowing one from him. And if he ever needed to talk about anything, anything at all, Cliff could call him too. Cliff knew what he was getting at, and he didn't want to face it. But Theo was such a calm person that it was disarming, and Cliff asked without meaning to, "Is it worth it?"

Theo nodded. He knew what Cliff meant without specification. "Yes, it's worth it," Theo said. "Even if there's nay-sayers and you lose people, you gain much more. It's always worth it to be exactly who you are, Cliff."

Cliff went back to his parents house with those words echoing in his brain. Theo, a successful and respected lawyer, said it was worth it. He had a career and a person who loved him by his side. Was that something Cliff could have, too? Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to be honest, just once?

"Mom," Cliff said over dinner, pushing his phone over to her with a picture of him and Elliot together on the screen. "I want to tell you something. This is my-"

"Don't do this to me Cliff," his mother interrupted before he could finish. "You've already caused enough trouble. He's not - just because you have a thing with another guy doesn't mean anything."

"It's not a thing mom. I love him," Cliff found himself saying angrily. And oh, why did he say that? The first time he finally said he loved Elliot and it was directed at his mom in spite. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

"Cliff, you don't love him. You're too old to be playing this game. Now I'll forget we had this conversation. And don't tell your father."

Cliff saw red. He'd never been so angry in his life. He snatched his phone back and grabbed his wallet on the shelf by the door and went outside. She didn't follow him.

It was pouring rain. Cliff shivered, wishing he'd had the forethought to grab a coat too, but he wasn't going to ruin his dramatic exit by going back inside. Of course his mother hadn't approved. Cliff hadn't expected her to. But he'd expected her to get angry - not to dismiss him all together like he was just a kid with a big imagination. Cliff knew then that she would never really think of him as his own person, and he couldn't do anything to change that. It broke his heart.

Cliff walked for a very long time. He didn't quite know where he was going, only that he wanted to get as far away from that house as possible. He found himself at a park by the water where he beat up a couple of tree trunks that definitely won based on his bleeding knuckles afterwards. The rain didn't let up, and Cliff found himself getting progressively colder. His cough from earlier that month had never gone away and his breath began to catch on what felt like a dry patch in his throat. Cliff realized then that he'd left his inhaler at the house, too. The coughing grew more desperate until he pitched forward and vomited onto the grass he was standing on. He groaned and leaned against the nearest tree he could find, the contents of his stomach mixing with rushing rain water and swept away quickly. He continued to gag for several minutes until the coughing abated ever so slightly. He felt weak and pathetic. And also very, very alone.

He needed to get somewhere dry. Somewhere warm and safe. Cliff only had one place like that in mind. He boarded train after train, shivering in the corner like a wet dog as he made his way all the way to Long Island. He knew Elliot's address because he'd been sending Elliot mail all summer, little love notes and presents that made Cliff think of him. He never included a return address though, because he hadn't wanted his parents to see. Thankfully his phone had enough battery to direct him to Elliot's doorstep despite the wet four hour commute, and he found himself at the front door of a modest suburban home at 3:30 in the morning.

The journey had felt like a daze. Cliff had never done something so erratic, so unplanned. He raised his hand to knock before remembering what time it was, and Elliot had parents and sister who probably wouldn't appreciate him knocking. He called Elliot instead, his phone barely hanging on at 5%. He thought to himself that it seemed unlikely that Elliot would answer at this time of night. But after several rings, by which time Cliff had resigned himself to waiting for dawn under a tree, a very sleepy voice picked up.

"Cliff?"

"Elliot? Sorry to bother you," Cliff said, as if this entire situation weren't incredibly bizarre. "But I'm at your door."

There was a long pause, presumably while Elliot tried to figure out exactly what Cliff meant by 'at your door'. "Like right now? Now?"

"Yeah," Cliff said. "Do you think I could sleep over?"

"I'm coming down," Elliot said, and there was the rustling of sheets and then the thump of footsteps as Elliot ran downstairs. The front door opened and Elliot hung up. Cliff looked at him and thought he was the most beautiful person in the entire world. "Holy crap, you're really here," Elliot breathed. "God Cliff, what happened? No, come in first, you're soaked..."

Elliot pulled Cliff inside and helped Cliff take off his soaked trainers. There were traces of vomit on the front of his shirt and his fingers were still bloody. Elliot brought him to the bathroom, motioning for Cliff to stay quiet with one finger to his lips. He grabbed a towel from under the sink and wrapped it around the shorter boy, who was shivering violently from the marked change in temperature. In the bright light of the kitchen, suddenly his journey seemed a lot less valiant and a lot more stupid. "Sit," Elliot said, sitting Cliff on the toilet. "You're freezing... Can you take your temperature?”

Elliot handed Cliff a thermometer, which Cliff obediently used. After a few seconds it beeped and read ‘96.9.’ Elliot frowned. “Hot shower, okay?" Despite being woken up in the middle of the night, Elliot seemed fully alert. Cliff nodded and peeled off his wet and dirty clothes. He coughed roughly as he did so, a slight wheeze audible on the end of the exhale. Elliot patted his back with a concerned expression. "Do you have your inhaler?" Cliff shook his head no. Elliot grimaced and ran the hot water for Cliff. "You warm up. I'm gonna find you some clothes and I think there's an old inhaler somewhere in the medicine cabinet..."

Elliot moved to leave, but Cliff grabbed his arm before he could go. "Don't wake your family up," Cliff said hoarsely. "I'm okay."

Elliot looked at Cliff in concern and sighed. "Cliff, you just showed up soaking wet in the middle of the night. You live all the way in Newark. I'm gonna be a little concerned. But right now you need to warm up. We can talk later."

"Okay," Cliff said. He took the hottest shower of his life then, and it felt glorious. After a few minutes he started to feel dizzy though and sat on the floor of the tub. Elliot came back and peeked around the curtain, frowning when he saw Cliff sitting there.

"Are you awake?" Elliot asked worriedly.

"Hmm," Cliff hummed in confirmation. "Just feels nice, and I got sleepy."

"Finish up in there," Elliot said. "I've got sweats and a hot water bottle and bed waiting for you."

Cliff obediently finished showering and sat on the edge of the tub as Elliot dried him off thoroughly with two big, fluffy towels. Cliff closed his eyes and remembered how many times he'd imagined being together again over the summer. "I missed you so much," Cliff said, resting his face on Elliot's abdomen.

Elliot stilled and crouched in front of Cliff. "I missed you too," he said softly. "Now arms up." Elliot helped Cliff get into the warmest sweats that he owned and then led Cliff upstairs to his bedroom. The house was quiet, and Cliff hoped that meant he hadn't disturbed anyone else's sleep. He glanced around curiously at Elliot's childhood bedroom, which was decorated in a way that seemed so very Elliot. He smiled at the teddy bear sitting on the dresser that Cliff had bought Elliot at the baseball game they'd been to. It brought back good memories, nothing like the ones that had been swirling around in Cliff's head for the past several rainy hours.

"Bed," Elliot whispered, tucking Cliff under the duvet and several extra blankets. Cliff was still shivering, but less so now. His temperature had blown from low numbers to high and he gazed at Elliot with glassy, feverish eyes. Elliot handed Cliff a very expired albuterol inhaler, which Cliff took a few puffs of. Despite the date stamped on the canister, it still eased the tightness in Cliff's chest a little. Elliot then climbed in next to him and wrapped his arms around Cliff. The feeling and smell of being enveloped by Elliot after all this time brought Cliff to tears and he hid his face.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I know I should have called.”

"It’s okay,” Elliot said. “Sleep, Cliff. We can talk tomorrow.” Knowing he was finally in the only place he truly felt safe, Cliff slept.

[Cont. part 2]

#shionwrites #novemetober rescheduled #whump #sickfic #sicknario #tw: emeto #tw: homophobia #prompt: chaotic body temperature #novemetober 2023 #oc: cliff #oc: theo #oc: elliot #fever whump #hurt/comfort #angst #hypothermia #pneumonia

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irondadmadlads · 1 year

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Irondad Prompt: #117:

Peter: Let’s play “did I throw up because I’m sick” or “did I throw up because I’m so stressed.”

Tony, who was called to pick Peter up from school: Let’s NOT play that!!

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sickonthedancefloor · 3 months

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All Hands On Deck - part 2

Sickies: OT7 Caretakers: Themselves + Managers

Part: [one]

Hoseok didn’t think he was ready for this. Here he had Jungkook, weirdly both pale and green-tinted, in a wet, vomit-sprayed tee and looking on the verge of crying. Before Jungkook could even consider apologizing, Hoseok merely shushed him softly, reaching a hand up to swipe his cheeks in comfort before tears could even begin to fall. His youngest dongsaeng, despite being taller and more muscular than him already, looked so small standing next to him with how sick he was. There was something about his big eyes being so watery and upset that pulled at Hoseok’s heartstrings immediately.

He was very weak for his members.

“It’s okay, Jungkook-ah, let’s get you changed and in bed. Sound good?”

He received a small hum in agreement, as the younger dancer dropped his face against Hoseok’s shoulder. Oh no… not vomit on the Balenciaga… It was honestly inevitable. He’d definitely have to ask one of the managers for their cleaning trick to get it out later for sure. But first… His hand rubbed small circles on Jungkook’s back as he walked him away from the bathroom, away from the new noises of vomiting from behind the door. It seemed to upset Jungkook further to hear it, and the last thing Hoseok wanted to do was have him sick again, and in the hallway where the clean-up would be harder. The two shuffled awkwardly and slow, but it didn’t seem to nauseate the youngest further, so Hoseok was alright with the pace.

“H-hyung,” Jungkook murmured. “Jin-hyung’s—”

“Hm? Jin-hyung?”

Jungkook pointed at the door. Ah… that made sense.

“Oh, you mean Jin-hyung’s room?” Hoseok guessed. That got a soft laugh and a thumbs up. Perfect, honestly; Jin’s door was closer, anyway. Hoseok merely shuffled to Jin’s room, leading Jungkook inside. Jungkook looked at the bed, but Hoseok merely held onto him, grabbing his shirt. “Come on, let’s get you changed into something cleaner. Okay, hands up.”

Jungkook looked so little. As Hoseok pulled the shirt from him, he couldn’t help but coo at how he scrunched his face. Once off, Hoseok just turned it inside out and dropped it near the door, before helping Jungkook out of his baggy jeans. He was like a child again, like that young teen who was so shy but still crawled into their beds when he felt too lonely or upset or just wanted comfort. Cute. Once in just his boxers, Hoseok led him to sit on the bed, ruffling his hair affectionately. “Stay right here, I’m gonna see what Jin’s got that you can fit.” For good measure, he moved the desk trash can next to the bed.

Hoseok tossed Jungkook’s pants, and his own sweatshirt (feeling too warm for it now anyway, he guessed someone turned the heater up for one of their sick members) to the pile and went to rummage through Jin’s closet for something light. He managed to dig up a simple dark tee and basketball shorts, and dressed Jungkook quickly as he noticed his eyes shutting. He was more than thankful that Jin and Jungkook fit the same clothes; it made it easier, for sure. Hoseok tugged the blanket back as he eased their maknae to lay down, then just ran his hands through Jungkook’s hair until the younger fell asleep.

Once he seemed settled, Hoseok sighed, leaning his head on the side of the bedframe. What a day… It was already giving him a headache, but he was glad to at least be helpful.

~*~

In the bathroom, on the other hand, Jin wished for peace. But all he received was a sharp stench of putrid, vile vomit that seemed rather discomforting being two distinctively different scents of yuck. He honestly didn’t think puke could have identifying smells, but whatever Taehyung was expelling before him had some odd, creamy scent to it that made his own stomach feel uncomfortable. But just taking a sharp breath upward, he merely continued to rub Taehyung’s back, thankful that his curls were at least short enough to stay out of his face.

Taehyung’s vomiting was calmer than Jungkook’s in a sense. Less loud, bouncy motions but more harsh, almost twitching gasps as he coughed up whatever wanted to make its way up his esophagus. He had tried to speak twice, barely getting out Jin’s name, and a broken apology, before he merely gave up. Taehyung had a shaky hand braced on his knee, fingers white-knuckled gripping his sweatpants as if it was the only lifeline he had between staying upright and falling into the porcelain nightmare (oh god, Jin realized, that was going to be a nightmare to clean).

“It’s okay, Taehyung-ah,” Jin said calmly. His hand on Taehyung’s back formed a fist and he rubbed his knuckles with a little more force on Taehyung’s back. Something more of a sensation, hopefully a bit of a distraction. “Try to take a breath now, hm?”

Taehyung coughed up a mouthful and then spit. Jin took the opportunity to flush, hoping to reduce some of the smell. But ever the diligent dongsaeng, Taehyung tried to take a breath. His shoulders slumped and he eased back. And took a second breath.

“H-hyung…”

“I’m here, Taehyung-ah. You’re okay. Just keep breathing—or… that, I guess.”

On Taehyung’s next breath, he gagged and immediately lifted himself back to the toilet, regurgitating out another thick mouthful of sludge. His hand on Jin’s hand merely loosened his grip and he swatted at him, albeit shaky and weakly.

“I know, I know. Not funny. But you always laugh at my jokes.”

Taehyung swatted him again, and coughed. He heaved again, but nothing came out.

“See, my jokes cured you.”

But another heave, and a mouthful of pure bile escaped. Taehyung was running on empty, and Jin could see it. He continued rubbing his back, encouraging him to take another breath. It took Taehyung another few minutes of dry heaving before he managed to sink back, forehead dropping on the toilet. Jin smiled.

“Good job, you stopped. Let’s wait a few minutes before we move, just in case.”

Taehyung just nodded as his eyes closed, his body trying to succumb to at least a few moments rest before Jin made him move. Jin let him have these extra moments in peace, just keeping one hand rubbing his back but now in slow circles. It gave Jin time to send a one-handed text message to Namjoon, letting him know their second youngest was also ill. This was already proving to be a disaster. They were going to need back-up, that was for sure.

~*~

From his spot on the couch, Yoongi looked towards the bathrooms on the left. He’d begun rubbing the sleep from his eyes when he heard Jungkook, but he was wide awake the moment Taehyung also disappeared. This already wasn’t good, and they hadn’t bought that much juk. They’d need more… and given whatever the two had, Yoongi figured he may as well begin messing with inventory.

He yawned as he stood, stretching his arms upward. The noise was enough to have Namjoon looking at him with a frown. “You’re not sick too, are you?”

Yoongi shook his head. “Wouldn’t dream of getting sick before you, Joon. I’m just going to make some juk. I have a feeling we’re going to need more, if Hobi-ah hasn’t come back from checking on them.” He really, really hoped Hoseok wasn’t also sick; that man hated throwing up, the last thing they really needed was an anxiety attack flaring up from anyone over illness. At least, for now, Namjoon and Jimin seemed alright, so after reassuring their leader that he was okay, Yoongi merely trekked his way into the kitchen and went to pull out the big pot. He’d make enough juk to last them a few days; thankfully it wasn’t hard at all. Opening the kitchen, he went to work, glad that Hoseok had organized their kitchen prior.

As Yoongi began cutting green onions, he realized he wasn’t alone. Despite seeming exhausted, Namjoon was out standing by the counter, frowning at his phone as he reread Jin’s updates. “Ah… Hyung, what can I do to help?”

Yoongi smiled. “Can you go check on Hobi and Jungkook? Hobi might need some help. Juk should be ready within the hour.”

An easy task. Namjoon gave a thumbs up and headed down the hall to peer in Jungkook’s room, then Hoseok and Jimin’s, only to find both empty. He just decided to search each room to find them, peering briefly into Yoongi’s empty bedroom before he landed on Jin’s. And there he saw Hoseok running his hand through Jungkook’s hair, Jungkook curled up next to him with his head in his lap on their oldest hyung’s bed. When Hoseok spotted Namjoon in the doorway, he smiled, holding a finger to his lips.

“Did he just fall asleep?”

Hoseok nodded. “I wanted to wait a little before giving him medication in case he could eat anything.”

“Yoongi-hyung’s making juk.” He wheeled over the desk chair to sit in, so he wouldn’t move the bed. “He thinks we’re going to need more.”

With a sigh, Hoseok nodded again. “I wouldn’t be surprised… Someone else is going to get it, I bet. When it’s done, let me know?” It only took a few minutes more before Jungkook began snoring, and the two sighed in relief. He was out. The rappers spent a few moments discussing their gameplan on if more of them came down with this—double line the trash cans, keep their two sick members comfortable, try to keep their medications on schedule. Check everyone just to be safe. Hoseok texted the managers their update while Namjoon headed out to give Jin and Yoongi their new update. The juk would take a bit, so he didn’t rush.

As he made it to the bathroom closest to his room, he knocked lightly. “Jin-hyung? You in there?”

“Ahhh, Namjoon-ah! Yeah, I’m in here. Careful if you open the door, Taehyungie’s legs—”

Namjoon was not careful. Upon immediate push of the door, he immediately knocked the wood onto Taehyung’s legs. Similar to Hoseok and Jungkook, Taehyung had taken Jin’s lap as a pillow, but with a damp towel over his eyes. He groaned but otherwise did not move, and Jin immediately began to fuss as Namjoon apologized.

“Is he sick too, Jin-hyung?”

“He spent ten minutes vomiting and now he won’t get up. And he won’t let me get up. Joon-ah, I can’t help him from down here! We don’t even have a traditional Korean bathroom, I could have just hosed down the mess but no, we have to clean it up! I could have just hosed Taehyung off of me—”

With that, Namjoon laughed, squeezing in and kneeling next to them. Taeyhung, while not as tall as Jin or Namjoon, had put on a significant amount of muscle on his frame, rivaling Jin in terms of weight already. And so much of it was muscle; but his reluctance to move overtook Jin’s attempt to keep him from the floor. It was a lose-lose situation for Jin. Taehyung’s button-up had vomit stains all along the front, and was damp with sweat. Jin had wiped his face already, but the younger vocalist seemed comfortable with the cloth blocking the light.

“Headache, Tae-yah?” Namjoon asked.

He received a mumbled ‘yes’. Fever confirmed by touch. Chills, possibly from the floor, possibly the fever. With a sigh, Jin rubbed his back again.

“Come on, let’s try to make it to the room with Joon, yeah?”

Taehyung grumbles again. “’m dirty…”

“It’s okay buddy, you’ve been sick. You want to try and take a bath?”

That gets the young singer to groan, his hand reaching up to press the cold cloth over his eyes. “I don’t want to move… Every time I move I get woozy.”

Jin sighed, stroking his hair. “Well, let’s at least try to get you changed and clean so you’re more comfortable.”

“Not… not yet.” Taehyung grumbled. He kicked a foot lazily to the side, but it bumped Namjoon’s leg—exactly what he was planning. “Go ‘way.”

Namjoon chuckled softly, patting Taehyung’s shoulder from where he sat. He was pretty sure Jin would catch it, being in proximity of now two vomiting members, but he wasn’t going to stress out over it. As Jin leaned his head back against the wall, he reached a hand over to swat at Namjoon too.

“Just bring him some fresh clothes? We’ll be out when we can, okay?”

Namjoon nodded and scurried out, returning five minutes later with a fresh pair of pajamas. On his way out, he added: “Oh, Jungkook’s taken over your bed.”

“Aish!”

#bts emeto #emeto bts #sick!jungkook #sick!taehyung #caretaker!jin #caretaker!hoseok #caretaker!yoongi #caretaker!namjoon #caretaker!jimin #tw: emeto #tw: emetophobia #bts sickfic #Whit writes

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fucked-up-beyond-repair · 3 months

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Can't stop puking

For day 2 of Nov(emeto)ber @monthofsick

TW: emeto, vomiting, Implied object-eating, supernatural elements

----

Neal, being a hopeless werewolf, found himself eating through heaps of garbage beyond what his human body would be able to handle afterwards. Fortunately, his roommate, and mage, Lane, always has the solutions he needs.

Because I think it's cute when werewolves act like oversized dogs.

----

Neal slowly opened his eyes as the harsh sunlight streamed through the curtains. An intense pounding headache immediately hit him, accompanied by a sickly rancid taste lingering in his mouth and an uncomfortable fullness in his stomach.

Lane entered their cramped dorm room with a playful grin. "Good morning sunshine, how are you feeling?"

"Terrible," Neal groaned. As he attempted to sit up, his stomach protested; a sharp pain surged through him, regretting the movement as waves of nausea washed over him.

"I figured as much," Lane chuckled. “Luckily for you, I am such a stellar friend that I went all across the hallway to get you some water." Lane handed him the glass as he invited himself on the bed frame next to Neal.

Neal pressed a hand against his forehead, hoping to alleviate the pain before slowly bringing the water to his lips. Each swallow intensified the nausea as the water joined his already cramped stomach. The gas started to build up, making him burp weakly.

"Why did I have to eat so much?" he complained, feeling so full he was afraid he was going to burst. He couldn’t even recall doing so; in fact, he couldn’t remember anything at all. "Uhm, was I drunk last night?" he asked worriedly, even though he usually avoided alcohol.

Lane scratched his neck, unsure of what to tell him. "Someone complained about raccoons or something making a ruckus behind the cafeteria," he explained, giving Neal an apologetic look. "Turns out, it was you - as a huge golden wolf, rummaging through the trash cans.”

Realization hit in, making Neal turn green. His heart raced; panic settling in at the thought of having his stomach filled with heaps of rotten garbage. "I think I’m going to throw up," Neal grimaced, as a wet burp erupted from him.

"Will probably …" Another lump in his throat cut him off, and he covered his mouth, swallowing hard. "Need a bucket…" he panted through the overwhelming nausea.

"You…" Lane hesitated, turning away briefly trying to hide his amusement. "Kind of ate it…" he sighed, looking at Neal with a hint of hopelessness.

Neal barely registered that implication as his stomach contracted. He hurriedly tried to bend to the side, feeling a gush of watery vomit seep through his hand and falling to the floor.

Without break, his stomach continued to heave painfully, but despite the violent retches, nothing else came up. Desperate for relief, he pushed hard against his bloated stomach, wincing painfully as everything shifted upwards. It felt stuck in his throat, only resulting in a wet belch.

"Stomach not keeping up?" Lane teased, placing a hand gently on Neal's abdomen. Lane quickly frowned at the tightness that pressed into his palm as Neal breathed shallowly.

Lane reached for his pockets; having already predicted that Neal's digestion system would need some help. "Drink this; it should help your stomach dissolve whatever you ate last night," he said, offering Neal a small vial.

"Thanks…" Neal mumbled weakly before carefully taking a sip. However, the thick bitter mixture induced a gag, and was quickly expelled onto Lane's shirt.

Ignoring the mess, Lane gently guided Neal’s hand back to his trembling lips. "Try to keep it down; you will feel better soon."

Neal's nausea grew for each swallow, making it harder to keep the liquid down. The mixture seemed to do its work though, relieving the tightness in Neal's stomach briefly before the nausea became unbearable, feeling the dissolved contents slosh inside him.

"We should probably head to the bathro-" Lane was interrupted as Neal shot upright and reached for the pillow. He hurriedly stripped off the pillowcase, and buried his head into it, desperately hoping it would contain the mess.

Neal closed his eyes tight, feeling everything rush up his throat at once. He lurched forwards with a violent heave as thick chunks of vomit filled the thin fabric.

"That’s good, just let it all out." Neal was somewhat aware that Lane remained next to him despite the mess, rubbing his back as he puked his guts out. His stomach was so incredibly full, bringing up wave after wave of lumpy vomit.

"Why can't it stop" Neal groaned. The stench of rotting garbage filled the room, triggering another round of vomiting. It was more liquid this time, seeping through the pillowcase and onto the bed.

When he finally stopped retching, Neal was left weak and trembling, his entire body drenching in sweat. "You think you are done?" Lane hoped, taking away the makeshift vomit bag after seeing it dripping onto the bed. Neal weakly nodded, still panting as the nauseous feeling persisted.

However, Lane could feel Neal’s back tense up again, and a grimace formed on Lane’s face as he sensed a warm, sticky puddle of vomit soaking through his lap.

"Sorry…" Neal managed to utter before another belch interrupted him, bringing up mostly bile by now. "Sorry about the mess…" he whimpered, feeling utterly drained as he leaned into Lane with exhaustion.

"I’m sure you'll find a way to make it up to me,” Lane murmured, a slight blush tinging his cheeks.

Clearing his throat, he swiftly returned to his usual smirk. "Let's just get you cleaned up for now. Then you can rest in my bed for today."

#emeto #emetophilia #emeto fic #sickfic #vomiting #tw: emeto

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iheartwhump · 1 year

Text

you okay, buddy?

#will sharpe #theo james #ethan spiller #cameron sullivan #the white lotus #white lotus 2 #whump #hangover #vomiting #tw: emeto

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crinkled-emotions · 10 months

Note

Hey G, I have a prompt idea from the list, but I'm not sure if it's something you'd be interested in writing so I said I'd ask first. No hassle if you're not! 😊

I was thinking Uncle Slider looking out for Bradley, when he gets sick, I'm thinking they could be deployed on the same carrier or something idk, and it's one of the firsrt times together when theyre back on good terms after Bradley cutting off Mav (I know you said no mav at the moment, so we can just leave him in the desert on leave haha. Sorry Mav, enjoy the sand)

7 and 22 from whumpril and the first one from the emeto prompts please

Gotcha!! Thanks for your patience, I finally got around to this after that unexpected hiatus 🥰😂

I have changed it up just a little. It'll make sense when you read it lmao.

7. "Numbness/Unsteady/ [You look pale]", 22. "Sponge Bath/Infection/ [Let's get you cleaned up]" and 1. "Straining/losing their voice from retching"

"Captain Kerner!"

Slider paused mid-step in the hallway, turning to glance over his shoulder.

"Lieutenant Junior Grade Seresin, what can I do for you?"

"It's Bradshaw, sir. I just went back to our quarters to change but he's sick."

"Okay...? Take him to the infirmary if he's that bad."

"He's asking for you, sir."

Slider paused, eyebrow raising.

"Let's go."

Seresin led him through the carrier, practically parting the crowds with his confidence... and his broad shoulders. By the time they got to the room, Seresin was handing over his keys.

"I'm going to bunk with one of my friends for the night, sir. Bradshaw sounds like he could use the room to himself."

Slider frowned, but didn't push it further as the kid disappeared back into the crowd. He gently knocked on the door before pushing it open, surprised at what he saw.

"Bradley."

"Uncle Sli, hey," he croaked hoarsely from his bunk, the room's trash can in his arms. Slider knelt by him, gently putting a hand to his forehead.

"That's one hell of a fever. Alright, up, let's get you into the infirmary-"

"-no!"

Bradley put the trash can on the floor and Slider sighed when the kid scooted forward into his arms. Slider kept his hand on the back of his neck, tucking him into his shoulder like he used to when Bradley was a baby.

He'd been visiting Carole once when Bradley had gone down with a fever in the middle of the night and Carole, exhausted after staying up with the four year old all night, had gone to bed. Slider had offered to watch him during the day and Bradley had promptly crawled on to his lap, wrapped an arm around Slider's neck and kept his thumb in his mouth all day. He'd slept for a majority of the day so when Carole came downstairs after her own nap the five year old was back to his usual cheeky self. It was a bittersweet memory, to Slider, knowing Goose would have hated watching his kid sick but loved the moment to hold him a little longer. And Carole, she was gone too. She was gone and despite being on the same carrier working closely for almost four months, Bradley had barely said two words to him until now.

With Bradley now back in bed, tucked under a warmer blanket with seasickness medication in his system, Slider made the decision if he couldn't take him to the infirmary he was going to bring the infirmary to him.

"I'll be back as soon as I can."

He didn't move, or make a noise, but it was more for Slider's own peace of mind. He tried to remember what Carole or even Mav would do when Bradley wasn't well, what they mentioned in passing. All he could remember was having to pick up the fifteen year old at his mother's funeral and he wasn't sure he could cope with remembering that.

Carole was too good for this world.

"Captain Kerner, is everything okay?"

"I need something to stop vomiting and reduce a fever."

One of the doctors on the carrier paused, blinking at Slider.

"Let's get a look at you-"

"-it's not me, it's Lieutenant Junior Grade Bradshaw. He's sleeping it off for now."

"How high is the fever? Give me a moment, let me grab his file and check allergies."

"He doesn't have allergies. He was warm to the touch but not to the point I was going to drag him down here."

The doctor turned from where he'd been looking for Bradley's file, hands on his hips.

"You've felt his fever? Kid has a track record among other docs I've talked to, won't let anyone touch him."

"I knew him when he was little. Long story. What would you recommend?"

"Well, the problem is if he's vomiting, it's hard to get it to stop long enough for the medication to settle. We could try the motion sickness pill, or maybe the liquid form-"

"-I already gave him the pill, but we both know it's going to come back up."

The doctor hummed, pulling the file and dropping it on the desk. He quickly skimmed it, then reached for his prescription pad.

"Do you think you could give him a jab in the ass? Maybe some IV fluids?"

"Nope."

"Perfect, bring him down here and I'll do it."

"Rooster- oh, shit."

Slider stepped into the room and grabbed the bucket when he realised how badly the kid was straining himself, brushing a hand through his hair.

"Just breathe, yeah? Slow down."

Bradley groaned, drawing his knees to his chest and trying to stifle his coughing.

"Good?" Slider asked. Bradley shook his head, going to speak but finding he couldn't. Slider sighed.

"Now we're really going to the infirmary. You're lucky you haven't torn something."

Slider watched the kid go to complain or maybe even flat out refuse, but then he put a hand out and Slider helped him to stand, wrapping an arm around his waist. Bradley buried his face into Slider's shoulder, Slider feeling the grimace that crossed his features.

"Goddamn kid, stop growing would ya? I think normal people stop at fifteen, not twenty-five," he grumbled. With a careful hand on Bradley's back, he started back toward the infirmary. He got to the door and it abruptly opened, Slider tightening his hold on Bradley only to find-

"Seresin, what do you need?"

"I just wanted to see if Rooster was okay, sir."

Slider glanced between the two men, Bradley hanging off him, and his eyebrows shot up. He'd seen this song and dance before, many years ago, with a certain two aviators...

He couldn't wait to tell Ice about this later. If Goose had been here-

"He's going to the infirmary, Seresin. How about you give me a hand?"

"Sure."

Seresin came around Bradley's other side, hoisting him up. With his help Bradley and Slider made their way to the infirmary.

The doctor Slider had spoken to earlier was already waiting, an exam bed open and waiting. He glanced over his shoulder at Seresin, an eyebrow raised.

"How bad is it?"

"He's not cryin' for his daddy yet," Seresin said, and then promptly shut his mouth. Slider went to tell him off but Bradley groaned, writhing on the bed. Both Seresin and Slider whipped around from their hushed discussion, the doctor ready to put the IV into his arm.

"Which of you wants to hold him down?"

"I got it," Seresin sighed, while Slider sat on the end of the bed and kept his hand on Bradley's knee.

"Hey, kid, you need to look at me. Just keep lookin' at me, don't look at Seresin."

"He stinks," Bradley whispered, an inside look shared between him and Slider. Seresin huffed, rolling his eyes.

"I-"

"-I'm in and we're looking good. Let's give that some time to work through his system, and then hopefully he'll be good to be discharged later today."

The doctor picked up his clipboard and made a swift exit. Rooster tried to roll on to his side but Seresin stopped him, glancing over at Slider.

"Is it safe?" He asked. Slider shrugged.

"I look like a doctor to you?"

"Sli," Bradley croaked. Slider knew that croak and yanked the bucket out from under the sink, helping Bradley sit up. Seresin kept his hand on Bradley's back, making lazy circles more to soothe than encourage.

"You're okay Roos, just breathe. I'm here, Seresin's here. You're alright."

Considering he hadn't managed to keep anything down for what Slider could only guess had been about twelve hours, the retching tugged at his throat and vocal cords. Seresin grimaced, turning away and Slider gently guided the bucket away from Bradley.

"It's okay kid, your stomach is fucking you around. Take a breath."

He couldn't remember where he'd learned to say these things, nor when he'd ever felt so protective over Bradley Bradshaw, but he could see he was scared, and that scared him. Even when he was at his mother's funeral, saying her eulogy with Mav by his side, Bradley never looked scared.

"He's got this... thing," Seresin finally explained, "it's been like this as long as I knew him. I dunno why, it just unsettles him. He's usually a smartass, doesn't know when to shut his trap, but if I get sick near him, or he gets the flu... god, it's like the end of the world. I got two younger sisters and I've never seen anything like it."

Slider frowned, focusing on brushing his fingers through Bradley's curls. With help he lay back down, curling on to his side despite Seresin's concerns it wasn't safe.

"How long have you two known each other?" Slider asked, feeling Bradley rest his head against Slider's side from where he was standing beside the bed.

"Nearly five years. He's a stubborn bastard, but I suppose you already knew that."

"His parents were both like that, and then his godfather, well- he's in some unknown location in Buttfuck, Nowhere because of his stubbornness."

Seresin smiled, reaching down to squeeze Bradley's side before gesturing to the door.

"I'm gonna go clean the room and get some sleep. Give you two some time to talk."

"Thanks, Seresin. Oh, and kid- between you and me, I don't particularly care about DADT. You do what makes you happy, any one who has a problem with that can answer to me."

Seresin's tan hid the blush on his cheeks, but his neck turned a gentle hue of pink and he cleared his throat.

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate that."

Right as he slipped out Bradley glanced up at Slider, tugging on his hand.

"M'sorry," he whispered, "I didn't mean to drag you into this. I'll be okay, if you wanted to go back to work, I know you're busy-"

"-don't be ridiculous. You needed me, and here I am. I was there when you were four, and I'm here now."

"I'm sorry that I cut you out."

"I know."

Slider pulled a chair over, taking Bradley's hand and giving it a squeeze. Bradley sniffled, scooting over to bury against Slider.

"You cold?"

"No."

"Alright, kid. Try and get some sleep, I'm not going anywhere."

The nurse dropped off a bowl of lukewarm water and a cloth, and Slider took the opportunity to place the damp cloth on Bradley's forehead.

"Better?"

"Hmmm..."

#Bradley Rooster Bradshaw #Bradley Bradshaw #Rooster #Callsign: Rooster #Ron Slider Kerner #Ron Kerner #Slider #Callsign: Slider #sickfic #hurt/comfort #tw: emeto #Jake Hangman Seresin #Jake Seresin #Hangman #Callsign: Hangman

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softsnzstuff · 1 year

Text

TW: mention of emeto

Guys I’m the worlds biggest emetophobe and literally me and @dontfeeltoohot and my brother/his gf were just in line for a bakery and some guy started throwing up across the street and my brother was like “don’t look don’t look!!!” And so I turned to face the wall while we waited. Had to try and self soothe in public until we got inside the shop and I could feel safe. ☠️

Gotta email my therapist lmao

#TW: EMETO #emetophobia #content warning

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bisexualkylecrane · 3 months

Text

Feeling so hungry that you feel nauseous… -100/10 don’t recommend ever

#tw: chronic illness #tw: emeto #isn’t it funny how I caught the flu felt like shit got better and then #my body decided hmm… the disabilities haven’t been disabling enough lately. MORE SYMPTOMS!!!#or like not more just worse. usually I have no hunger cues at all but I can still eat when I want unless I’m nervous :( sucks man…#ley unfiltered

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min-yunki-agustd · 2 years

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-- All Together--

Sickie: Everyone ( = (BTS OT7)

Caretaker: TBD

TW: Food poising, nausea, vomiting, detailed descriptions of emeto, scat, etc

Word Count: 4k+

_______________________________________________________

There wasn't a single member in the car that didn't have beads of sweat covering their foreheads. Things were relatively fine on the drive to the airport. Until the car's air conditioner broke. They could have stopped and fixed it but, didn't want to miss their flight. They were a long way away from the airport. A part from the excruciating heat things was alright. That was until Jimin began to complain about motion sickness. Then taehyung, then hoseok. Yoongi was feeling sick too but he refused to mention it.

Jimin POV

Uncomfortable was an understatement. Jimin's clothes stuck to his overly heated body. His clothes were damp with sweat, clinging to his body. As if feeling his own damp clothes stick to his body wasn't enough the tight space between him and taehyung was also damp, and clinging together. To make things worse his stomach was giving him trouble. Having motion sickness along with being hot and sweaty was not a good mix. only this felt different. usually, when he had motion sickness it begin with a dizzy feeling in his head that lead to nausea. Right now he wasn't dizzy. It had to be carsickness he thought to himself. His stomach would jostle to the movement of the car. He tried looking out the window but it had no effect. It didn't make him feel more or less dizzy. The car hit a pothole. It Once again jostled his tummy. He should speak now while the car was still silent. " I'm not feeling so well" he announces to the other members," says with a handheld lightly over his tummy. Namjoon sitting in the very front of the vehicle turned his head. " are you feeling carsick Jiminie? " he ask. his body moving with the movement of the car as he spoke. staring directly into Jimin's cast-down eyes. " I think so," Jimin says looking at the hand holding his own stomach. Hoseok sat in the inside seat of the car Jimin beside him and taehyung on the outside. Taehyung moved his hand from his lap to place it on the back of Jimin's neck. He massaged that area of his neck. Taehyung would usually be more comforting and clingy but it was far too hot in the car to touch and move around a lot. Jimin was grateful that taehyung wasn't being clingy at the moment. Typically taehyungs fingers rubbing at the nape of his neck is comforting and stress relieving but taehyungs fingers were hot and clammy and Jimin's neck was slathered in sweat. Making the nauseous older more uncomfortable. " I'm sorry Jimin we don't have any more planned stops ahead. But if you begin to feel worse let me know and I'll see what we can do." namjoon informs Jimin, gives his knee a little pat, and then turns around in his seat. Jimin stays quiet, at some point in time his stomach drops and he questions whether or not he'd make it through this ride alive.

Taehyungs pov

Taehyung was a little relieved to know that he wasn't the only one not doing so well. He didn't really suspect the feeling to be carsickness but it was a reasonable explanation. The car was hot, the ride was bumpy and they'd been driving for a long time. These are the things that would make him carsick typically. Taehyung stomach began to bubble and twist. his stomach bubbling wasn't something that he couldn't recall usually happening while feeling carsick but he figured it was normal or something he hadn't noticed before. He felt a cramp in his stomach that swirled into nausea. Taehyung hopes this car ride ends pretty soon. He's not sure how well he could keep his stomach down. Especially if Jimin starts to get sick beside him. Both of the members throwing up would definitely be a disaster. Taehyung really hopes it doesn't come to that. He looks over to Jimin, he doesn't seem to be doing very well. Taehyung stops rubbing the other's nape. It doesn't seem to be helping Jimin any. Tahyung wanted to comfort the older but he felt doing so would only make him feel worse. He doesn't think he could stomach it either. Taehyung looked away from Jimin, he looked outside the window hoping to settle his own stomach. His stomach felt worse as he sat in the car. Taehyung tried to focus on keeping himself calm and steady against the car's shaking. He was feeling uneasy about being nauseous against the motion of the car. Despite taehyung being on the outside of the seat he felt trapped in the moving car.

Jimin POV

Before taehyungs hot fingers on his nape were uncomfortable, but he didn't realize he was distracting himself from the awful feeling building in his stomach until he felt taehyungs hand drift away. Now, instead of mentally complaining amount taehyungs hand, his mind was flooded with thoughts of his nausea. It felt like the hotter he got worse the nausea felt. It made him feel lightheaded.

Taehyung POV

The nausea was geting to a point of unbearableness. He could feel beads of sweat slowly drip down his spine. Making him shiver and twitch. " hyung..." he forced himself to say threw a nauseating cramp. he was referring to namjoon who sat in the front and gave Jin the directions off the GPS on his phone. " I'm feeling carsick too," taehyung says. looking at namjoon who hadn't yet turned his head. namjoon turned to the side. " would you like Jin hyung to open a window taetae?" Namjoon says. Taehyung felt as though speaking would worsen nausea boiling in his tummy so he shook his head and sat up a bit. namjoon signaled Jin to roll down the window as he drove and he did so. A blast of air hit the sweat members' faces. It was relieving compared to the humid air that formed inside the car. It wasn't enough for the boys growing nausea.

Jimin pov

I was starting to have trouble keeping my stomach in place. So much so that I could taste my lunch that I was so excited to chow down earlier. I feared I might not be able to alert namjoon of my troubles. After many years of dealing with carsickness, I was still no good at keeping my stomach down. I brought a fist to my face. He forced down a burp that threatened to send his lunch with it. The sour acidy taste burned his throat to swallow down. his stomach churned uncomfortably. He knew he hadn't much time before he'd see his lunch again. Only he won't be as happy as when he saw it the first time.

Taehyung Pov

Taehyung caught on to Jimin's struggle when he heard an odd and pain full sounding swallow from Jimin. It was loud enough to hear and catch his attention. He didn't think too much of it until he actually turned to look at Jimin. Jimin had his fist over his mouth. Tae watched as Jimin's cheeks buffed up and released. He hopes that it was air filling the younger cheeks but he doubts his own optimism. Taehyung knew Jimin, He knew that if the older was struggling now to keep his stomach down, there wouldn't be much time before he eventually loses the battle. " HYUNG! I THINK WE NEED TO STOP" taehyung panicked, he knew what was coming next if they didn't stop and let Jimin out of the bus. Unfortunately, this scared the living daylights out of jin who slams his foot down on the break. which causes the car behind him to do the same. Jin Pulls the car over to the side. Unfortunately for Jimin, it was a little too late.

Hosoeks Pov

Hoseok wasn't sure if it was because of the commotion, the heat, or the nagging feeling he was geting in his stomach but he felt very overwhelmed. The root of the swirling sensation was most likely anxiety. fearing one of the carsick members might throw up. At least that's what he told himself, in order to keep calm. Still, the louder the members beside him yell about the situation the more nervous and nauseous he feels. He too had a rising sickening feeling in his stomach. He was conflicted now. Was it him also experiencing carsickness or was he experiencing sympathy sickness aka emetophobia? Thinking about it only makes him feel worse. It was hard not to when taehyung was yelling about how sick Jimin feels. The feeling he felt now was simply awful. He was trapped. The furthest from the exit in the bus, the heat making him feel clammy and his stomach swirling with not only the swift movement of the bus but Jimin panicking moving around in his seat. It was overwhelming and frankly enough to send his stomach over the edge. Jin was slowing down the car after being alerted by Tahyung. Jin hyung wasn't fast enough for Jimin's stomach. Jimin released a loud gag. It alerted all the members making six of their heads turn towards Jimin. The only one who didn't look was jin he gave a glance through the review mirror and put his eyes back on the road. It was an awful sight to see. I should have looked away but my fear for Jimin overcame me. That was until I saw some of Jimins lunch splash onto my lap. I almost lost it then and there. I turned my head and gagged harshly into my hands. It was an immediate reaction hoseok could not control. My stomach went from my throat to my hands. Every gag that Jimin gave off hoseok echoed one back. It was a mess. There was barely any time passed before taehyung was joining us. Most likely, he was also hit with a splash of puke. hoseok's heart was racing. his stomach wasn't letting up and neither were Jimin's and taehyung's. Hoseok bent forward and retched. throwing up on his knee and the wall of the car. it splattered and slid down. the sight only promoted him to do it again. he tried looking away from the sick he'd created but he was only greeted with the sick Jimin had created on the other side of him. He threw up again adding layer and layer of sick on his pants, the floor, the seat in front of him, Jimin. The constant retching caused his head to pulse painfully making him feel lightheaded and weak. He couldn't stop. He tried so hard to stop. but every time he'd tried to breathe in the sight and spell of the sick would be taugnting him. It was not just his own sick that was plaguing him it was Jimin who had coughed up his full course meal right beside him. Hoseok doesn't think that he will ever sit this far inside again. He can't even leave out of the car and get away from the others and the mess they've made.

Tahyung Pov

Jimin set me off. He gagged a couple of times. That, I could handle. A huge wave of sick splattering onto his and hoseok lap is a different battle. I unintentionally let off a dry gag. I felt bad for doing so because I knew that gagging and Jimin having thrown up could also set off hoseok. I try and keep myself together. I hold my mouth and look away from Jimin. I'm not typically one to get sympathy sick, but I was already feeling pukey myself. Which is why I mentioned it to namjoon hyung. I was starting to feel really really sick. hoseok was throwing up now. I told myself that I would wait for Jin to pull over completely and get out seeing as I was close to the door and need to let out the other sick-feeling members, but It didn't quite happen that way. What did happen was Jimin accidentally threw up on my pants. I'm not with a very strong stomach at times like this. I couldn't really hold down my nausea anymore. I could feel the vomit chilled and stick to my legs. Something about the soggy junks and the gagging and retching going on set me off. I tried my best to keep it down. Using my hands to cover my mouth and minimize the mess. In the end, my body gave up for me. causing me to lurch forward. I had to use my hands to hold on to the seat in front of me so I wouldn't fall over. Taehyung threw his lunch up faster than he could keep up with. creating choking sounds as he let up a heaping pile of sick.

Seokjin/namjoon POV

We've dealt with carsick members from time to time but never like this. Not all at once. Maybe one or two sick feeling members but not three members puking their guts up right beside each other. Maybe we should have stopped and taken a short break when Jimin first mentioned feeling sick. The smell of the car was absolutely putrid and it messed with jins stomach. luckily he had a strong stomach and knew this despite a challenging task would not set him off. He just hoped the remaining nonsick members feel the same. Seok Jin pulled the car off to the side and turned around. He hoped to see members flooding the car. Instead, he sees taehyung losing his lunch on the floor, Jimin trying to hold off until tae moves, and hoseok letting off empty gags into his chunky vomit hand. Jin hops out of the car. Seen as the members in the middle row were struggling quite a bit. He walks over to the side of the car and pulls open the door. namjoon is behind him ready to go. He takes taehyung who is still vomiting on the floor and pulls him out. This creates a zig zag line of sick leading out of the car. namjoon moaned at the mess. "hyunggg awhh why couldn't you wait till he was finished. " namjoon says stepping out of taehyungs way. Once tae was out of the car he takes a little jog to get further away and falls to the ground retching. " let's get'em outta hear joon, the faster the better." jin says and he climbs in trying to avoid the sick which was spattered practically everywhere. He took a handful full of a clean potion from Jimin's shirt and gives it a little tug. Jimin gagged at jin's quick pull. " hyung wait, I got it. " Jimin rises from his seat keeping his head down careful not to hit his head on the roof of the car. Not really caring about avoiding sick seen as he was covered in it. Jimin slowly steps out of the car but his clean hand is on jin's shoulder to help him out of the car without falling over. Standing up after throwing up a lot made Jimin light-headed. Once he stepped out of the car Jimin slowly walked to a place away from the car and plopped down. He lay back in the grass attempting to catch his breath.

Now the only member left on the row of vomit was hoseok. Hoseok sat curled up with his elbow covering his mouth. He was trying to protect his nose from the awful stench, and he couldn't use his hands because they were soild with puke. Every so often a hoseok would close his eyes and a strained wet retch could be heard threw the fabric of his shirt. Jin climbed back in once more and gave hoseoks shoulder a tap. " come on hobi "Jin says as calm and kind as he could. of course, hoseok wanted to get out of the seat but he couldn't bring himself to move. He tried, he'd have to open his eyes and he knew for a fact that would set his stomach off. "Hobiii" namjoon says in a light and playful tone. "Let's get you outta here hobi" namjoon can see that he is struggling. Namjoon gingerly puts a hand on a clean part of hoseoks arm to guide him out of the car. " He gives hobi a gentle nugde and he doesn't move at first. " wait," hoseok says. he begins to breathe roughly. Hoseok slowly lowers his arm from his mouth and opens his eyes a sliver. His eyes were greeted with the awful visuals of several splotches of multicolored vomit. He gagged weakly. He tried to calm himself as he let namjoon carefully guide him out of the car. Once hoseok was almost completely out of the car he slid into a puddle of sickness almost falling down. namjoon tried to catch him but he was uncessesuful. hoseok caught himself. Which ended with his hand touching a chunky coated area of the seat. The feeling made him shiver. He felt his stomach twist the chunks under his fingers. namjoon watched as hoseok's cheeks puffed out. He could hold onto his mouth and try to stop it his hands were too filthy. A spray of vomit pushed past his lips. Namjoon was right in the vomit zone so he hopped out of the way. A little sick did manage to hit the side of his shirt. The only thing namjoon cared about was geting hoseok out of the car. He pulled on his arm and hoseok to that last step out of the car. hoseok took a few steps and threw up over the grass not being able to go any further.

As hobi does so namjoon sticks his head in the bus. He looks to the back, his eyes find a sleeping jungkook who has not stirred since he fell asleep. Should he wake him and get him out of the car or leave him to sleep in peace. Namjoon decided to leave him there. He wasn't dirty and he seemed to be fine. He looked at all the members standing outside of the car. Taehyung was still throwing his guts up, and Jimin is sitting on the ground rubbing his tummy. Jin hyung is there trying to comfort both of them. namjoon should go help him with that but there are only four people outside the car. five including himself and he knows for sure jungkook is in the car.... so wheres yoongi? is he still in the car? why was he still in the car? if three members are feeling carsick there was a strong chance that he does too. even if it's just a little so why would he sit in a stinky puke-covered car? namjoon thought. he turned around and took a peek at the front of the car. yoongi was there motionless. (hehe motionless min) The only sign of life namjoon noticed was his heavy, brisk breathing. Namjoon walked over to him. "hyung?" yoongi didn't respond. yoongi looks sick in the face his eyes were also closed. He had handfuls of his pants grasped in his hands. " hyung" namjoon says again this time putting a hand on yoongi's shoulder. yoongi opened his eyes. " hyung do you feel sick?" namjoon asks holding on to the smaller man. " no" yoongi says quickly. Closing his mouth and breathing briskly out of his nose instead. Namjoon knew he was lying. His hyung usually did a better job of it though.

POV Yoongi

yoongi got lost in the commotion. He was also feeling sick. He knew one thing for a fact. This was not car sickness. This felt nothing like carsickness at all. He's had motion sickness for years in cars and planes and he knew the difference between feeling sick and feeling motion sick. first off he was light-headed and bloated. He'd eaten hours ago so why does it feel undigested in his stomach? Sure the motion of the car worsened it but he could definitely tell this was beyond motion sickness. His stomach was off. It felt extremely odd. He couldn't recall having this feeling before. The ride only heightened his nausea. It got worse when he heard the sound of vomiting. He didn't want to make things worse so he stayed quiet about how he felt. It was hard to do with three others behind him giving loud gags and stomach-turning retches. He knew that if he stayed calm and focused on staying calm with measured breaths he would be able to keep his lunch down. At least until they stop somewhere. Well, now they were. After sitting threw the sound of each member being dragged out of the car while either retching or vomiting, it was a little hard to keep his own stomach calm. It had gotten to the point where his breaths became desperate and panicky. This is how namjoon found him. Still sitting in the car breathing heavily. Namjoon was concerned his hyung seemed to be on the verge of a panic attack. This was surprising because yoongi is typically calm even in extreme cases such as this. This is also why he asked if his hyung was sick. Because that was the only way his hyung could be freaked out right now. Yoongi gave namjoon a look that said everything he need to know. namjoon understood. Yoongi never gives much or any eye contact so he knows this means something. namjoon rubbed yoons arm and guided him out of the car. there he found a seat on the ground beside Jimin who now sat up in the grass.

POV namjoon

All the members were accounted for. He could feel himself getting stressed so he took a second to lean up against the car. He had to figure out what to do next. On things were clear they were probably gonna miss their flight if they haven't already. He felt a headache coming on just thinking about how the heck they were gonna get the bus cleaned. His stomach felt a little odd. He took it and the headache that had formed as just a product of stress from the situation. he took a deep breath in and a deep breath out. Once he felt calmed he got up and walked over to jin hyung who was now beside yoongi. Jin was rubbing yoongi's back and asking him 20 questions to which he barely replied. He seemed annoyed. Namjoon interrupted the conversation to talk to Jin. " jin hyung, what are we gonna do about the car?" namjoon sits down on the ground in front of jin. jin looks at the car. the door was still wide open. he could quite literally see a drip of vomit falling out of the car creating various small puddles. it looked gross. " do we have any cleaning supplies at all?" jin ask. both namjoon and jin look at yoongi. yoongi was always prepared for anything. He always had just what they needed. " what?" yoongi says at the two looking at him. " I have nausea meds, meds for stomach aches and I have a pack of tissues but that's all I got," yoongi explains. " I guess those tissues will have to do," jin says. " namjoon facepalms. The three rise from the ground and follow yoongi. yoongi goes over to his seat and pulls out small plastic rapped tissues and hands them over to namjoon. " welp this is better than nothing at all I guess."namjoon says. " that essentially IS nothing at all" jin jokes. namjoon wasn't in the joking mood, the stress was really geting to him. He's gonna have to clean a heaping mess of vomit with a travel package of 60 tissues. This was going to be a painfully long day. He did the best he could with what he had.

It didn't get everything surrounding the seat but the seat itself was clean enough to sit on. which wouldn't make much of a difference when the three sickly boys were covered in vomit. It also didn't contain the putrid smell at all either. He just needs them to survive long enough to get to the closes gas station. Even a convenience store would do as long as they could get the mess cleaned up in the car. He finished up the car the best he could and caught the member's attention. " Hey, guys listen up! I cleaned the car, but it's still quite messy inside. Jin will drive us to the closes convenient store or gas station and we will do a better job of cleaning it. I also need someone to hit up our manager because were behind and still no one was near the airport so we're probably gonna miss our flight. There was moaning and groaning but everyone got up and prepared themselves to get back into the car. They sat right back where they were before. As soon as hoseok tried entering the car he caught a whiff of the smell and gagged dryly immediately. He and the others managed to get inside. They road with all the windows open.

___________________________________________________-

I decided to cut it here and just make a part 2

I hope you have enjoyed thanks for reading!

#bts sickfic #sick bts #bts emeto #tw nausea #tw emeto ment #tw vomit #tw emetophobia #sick!hoseok #sick!suga #sick!namjoon #sick!jimin #sick!taehyung #sick!hobi #food poisoning #tw: emeto #tw stomachache #twcarsickness

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shion-yu · 2 months

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A Safe Place (part 2) [day 7]

Cliff’s cough turns into something more serious. For @monthofsick Day 7 “Too feverish to think” and my @badthingshappenbingo space “Delirium”. Wasn’t expecting this to be more than 2 parts but the boys had other plans! 3,385 words, original work, TWs emeto, references to parental homophobia/abuse. [Part 1]

The night Cliff showed up soaked and feverish on the doorstep of Elliot’s family home, Elliot held him and stayed awake until dawn. Cliff was asleep, his overly warm body in Elliot’s arms. Elliot, on the other hand, was wide awake. He was disturbed by Cliff’s sudden appearance and the shape his boyfriend was in. He didn’t know what happened or how to deal with this. He was nineteen and usually he felt like that made him an adult, but right now all he wanted was to go wake his parents up for help. Of course he wasn’t going to turn Cliff away - he’d protect Cliff however he could - but the lack of context was maddening.

At seven, Elliot’s alarm for work went off. He left Cliff asleep in his bed and crept downstairs where he usually ate breakfast with his mom and dad before heading to work at his dad’s auto shop for the day. It was Saturday, so they were only open in the morning. Elliot never missed a day of work and was extremely reliable, but knew today he’d have to let his dad down - but first he had to tell his parents what happened. His dad was already working on one of the plates of toast on the table and his mom was packing the two of them lunch.

“Good morning honey,” his mom, Rachel said. His dad Giovanni nodded at him around a sip of orange juice. Elliot swallowed nervously, hovering awkwardly instead of sitting down.

“I need to tell you guys something and I hope you’re not too mad,” he said. His parents’ faces immediately grew serious and Rachel wiped her hands off and sat at the table. They looked at him expectantly. Elliot took a deep breath. “You know my boyfriend Cliff? Well... last night, he showed up at our door. He was soaking wet and didn’t have anything with him and I don’t know what happened, but... he’s in my bedroom.”

“You boyfriend’s here? In this house?” Giovanni repeated incredulously. Elliot nodded.

“Is he okay?” Rachel asked.

Elliot shook his head. “I don’t know. I think not really. He has a fever and his breathing sounds bad. I know I should’ve told you last night but it was like three in the morning and, I don’t know. I should’ve come to get you. But I’m really worried about him.”

Rachel just nodded, and Elliot felt a rush of relief that neither parent seemed like they were about to lecture him. At least not yet. “It sounds like he’s sick,” she said, “I’ll go take a look at him.”

“Please,” Elliot said. His mom was a nurse, but more importantly she was a mom and he didn’t know what to do in this situation all by himself. “And um, I’m sorry dad but I don’t think I can come to work today.”

Giovanni stood up and clapped him on the shoulder. “Do what you need to do today, alright kiddo?” Elliot gave him a quick side hug and hurried upstairs with his mom. Cliff was right where Elliot had left him, huddled under several blankets and his noisy breathing audible from the moment they stepped closer.

Elliot crouched in front of the bed and shook Cliff’s shoulder. “Cliffy? Wake up. I want my mom to take a look at you.” Cliff felt even hotter under Elliot’s hand than before, causing a pang of panic to run through Elliot’s body.

Cliff blinked awake sleepily, calm until he noticed Elliot’s mom in the room. Then his face turned to one of fear and he shook his head no, pushing away from Elliot as if the other side of the bed provided far more distance than it did. “No no, Cliff, it’s okay. She’s really nice. I know you don’t like being touched by other people but I think you’re really sick. Please let her look at you. For me?”

It took a few long seconds, but Cliff eventually acquiesced and pushed himself into a sitting position. His arms were shaking with effort and Elliot wrapped an arm around him so he could lean for support. Rachel gave Cliff a gentle smile and sat on the edge of the bed. “Hi Cliff, I’m Rachel,” she said in what Elliot knew to be her nurse voice. “Elliot’s told me so much about you. I’m really glad to meet you. You don’t look like you feel too good though right now, do you?”

Cliff didn’t confirm or deny, but clutched onto Elliot’s hand tightly. Rachel grabbed the thermometer from where Elliot had left it on the bedside table last night and held it up to Cliff. “Under your tongue please,” she said. Cliff obeyed. Elliot could feel him trembling. He watched as the number kept going up until it beeped and settled on a glowing 102.7. Rachel frowned and said, “I think we need to go to the doctor.”

It was as if something in Cliff snapped and his grip on Elliot became painfully tight. “No, no, no hospital,” he said. “I-I can’t go to the hospital. My dad - my dad’ll be mad. Please don’t make me.”

Elliot’s heart broke for Cliff. He knew Cliff’s parents weren’t very nice people, but this reaction seemed extreme. He remembered how Cliff had begged him not to go to the hospital when he had the flu, too. Rachel had a similar pitying expression on her face. “Cliff, honey, we need to make sure you’re okay. We can go to urgent care though, alright?”

Cliff settled down a little, but he still looked afraid. “Hear that Cliffy? Just urgent care. It’ll be super fast and your dad will never know.” It took several seconds, but finally Cliff nodded.

“You boys get ready to go and meet me downstairs,” Rachel told him, leaving them in the bedroom alone. Elliot sighed.

“Cliff... What happened?” He asked. It still felt the wrong time to question his boyfriend, but he felt like he needed to know before this went any further. This felt serious and he couldn’t keep running on speculation. He also doubted that Cliff would tell any doctor the whole story.

Cliff looked at him with exhausted, watery eyes. "I came out to my mom,” he said hoarsely. “It didn't go well."

"Did she hit you?" Elliot asked, feeling like his heart was in his throat. "Did she kick you out?"

"No," Cliff said quietly.

"Then why, in the middle of the night, in the rain...?"

Cliff shrugged. "I just had to get out of there," he said simply. "And I really needed you."

Elliot wanted to know more. He wanted to push Cliff to keep talking. But Cliff seemed so delicate and they really did need to get him to a doctor, so Elliot let it drop for now. “Well, you’ve got me baby. Let’s get you looked at and then we’ll be right back here in bed, okay?”

Getting Cliff to urgent care was like leading a child. He was sluggish and acted a little confused, which scared Elliot. His mom drove while Cliff laid in the backseat with his head in Elliot’s lap. Elliot helped him into the waiting room and then checked him in. The wait was thankfully not too bad, something Elliot was exceedingly grateful for as he listened to Cliff’s breathing become more labored. He had a cough that sounded wheezy and painful, and the secretary waved a mask at Elliot until Rachel grabbed it and helped Cliff put it on.

Cliff sat on the exam table once they were led to a room and had his vitals taken by a nurse. His temperature was 102.9 now and he was shivering. Elliot climbed onto the table next to him and let Cliff rest against him until the doctor came in. Cliff predictably clammed up when the doctor started asking questions, so Elliot explained that Cliff had spent the night in the rain and had asthma. The doctor listened to Cliff’s lungs and ordered a chest x-ray. “You said his temperature was low last night? Rebound hyperthermia can usually cause a fever afterwards, but a cough like this wouldn’t have shown up overnight. How long have you been sick, Cliff?”

“A while,” was the near whispered answer. Elliot squeezed Cliff’s forearm, urging him to elaborate. “Maybe three weeks.” Elliot felt his stomach drop. Cliff had been coughing for three weeks and his parents hadn’t said anything? His dad was a doctor for goodness sake.

The chest x-ray didn’t show pneumonia, the doctor said, but Cliff had definite bronchitis and needed to rest. He was prescribed a 4mg prednisone taper pack and a new inhaler, and then they were allowed to head home. By the time Rachel parked the car back at the house, Cliff’s face was a pasty white with a tinge of green. He stood up, then sat back down. "Dizzy?" Elliot asked. Cliff nodded minutely. "Okay. Just hold on to me and we'll walk really slow." Elliot supported Cliff into the house, wishing urgent care had given Cliff something for the fever while they were there.

It felt like a long way all the way back up to the second floor, but Elliot got Cliff into bed and tucked in before going to get some fresh water and something to eat for himself. His mom was waiting in the kitchen and said, “Okay, let’s talk honey. What’s going on here?”

“Honestly, I don’t know that much,” Elliot said tiredly, sitting at the table heavily. The half-night’s sleep and worry was getting to him. “Cliff said he came out to his mom and it didn’t go well and... I think they were abusive growing up. He’s really scared of them.”

Rachel looked sad and gave Elliot a hug. “Well, it seems like he trusts you more than anyone. Just let us know what we can do and we’ll do it,” she said. “He can stay here until school starts and then you guys can go back together.” Elliot hugged her back, so grateful that he had the parents he had and not Cliff’s.

“Thanks mom,” he said, unable to help tears from filling his eyes. School would start in two weeks. It wasn’t that long.

Elliot ate his now cold toast from earlier and then went back upstairs, expecting to find Cliff in bed. Instead he followed the sound of retching into the bathroom, where he found Cliff kneeling over the toilet seat throwing up quite violently. Elliot winced, glad he hadn’t given Cliff his steroid from the doctor yet. “Oh Cliff,” he sighed sadly, sitting next to him and rubbing Cliff’s back.

“This is gross, go away,” Cliff groaned, weakly trying to shrug him off. Another wave of vomit caused him to launch back over the toilet seat.

“It’s fine,” Elliot said. “You sat with me when I threw up, remember?”

“That was different, we were drunk,” Cliff managed to choke out. He coughed into the bowl, the water making the sound echo a little. He slumped forward, resting his forehead on the edge of the toilet miserably. “Everything’s spinning.”

Elliot wet a washcloth and rubbed it against Cliff’s hot, sweaty neck. Cliff shivered. “I’m right here,” Elliot said evenly. “Take your time.”

It was about five more minutes of Cliff intermittently gagging until Elliot was sure he had nothing left in him and pulled Cliff into his lap. He wiped the rest of Cliff’s face off, and his hands which had some of the puke on them. “Bed?”

“Don’t wanna throw up on you,” Cliff mumbled.

“There’s a trash can. You need to lie down and take your meds.” Elliot helped Cliff stand up, which proved to require some core strength with how heavily Cliff leant on him. They hobbled back to Elliot’s bedroom where Cliff collapsed onto the mattress, panting heavily. Elliot popped out the first doses of prednisone and two Tylenol into his hand and held them out to Cliff. “You’re supposed to eat with these...” He said, “Do you think you can - no, didn’t think so,” he didn’t finish the question when Cliff interrupted him with a loud whimper. “Okay, let’s just hope for the best.”

Cliff took the pills and his new inhaler, mumbling a weak, “Thanks.”

Elliot climbed into bed next to him and spooned Cliff protectively. “Thank you for going to the doctor,” he said. “Now you can rest.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Elliot had never heard someone cough the way Cliff had been coughing and he was extremely worried. In the week since Cliff had shown up unannounced, he’d been weak but after that first full weekend in bed his fever broke and he seemed a little better. He had been eating again and had become less painfully shy with Elliot’s parents. Elliot went to work with his dad the following week and Cliff seemed sick, but well enough to insist on helping out with the chores around the house. Rachel said he was a very good assistant.

Cliff told Elliot a bit about his internship this summer and one afternoon they even drove to get Cliff’s college stuff from his parents’ house at a time when Cliff was sure nobody would be home. There was no incident doing this and Cliff seemed like he was on the mend. It seemed as if their final week of summer vacation was going to be actually spent together having a little fun. Elliot’s father planned to release him from work for the season so he could spend the last week before school started getting ready and relaxing a bit. Elliot thought about all his favorite places that maybe he could bring Cliff, like his favorite state park.

That cough just wouldn’t go away though, especially at night. By the end of the week, Cliff's cough had grown much deeper and he seemed like he was in pain every time he did so. It was just the cough and a low grade fever though, so Elliot still hoped it would go away. That hope was shattered when he came home after work on Saturday at noon to find his boyfriend sitting up in bed, struggling to breathe. Cliff was clutching a fist to his chest and his face was contorted in pain. When he looked up at Elliot his eyes were glassy and unseeing.

“Cliff!” Elliot exclaimed in shock. Cliff had seemed mostly fine when he’d left this morning, what had changed? He pressed a hand to Cliff’s forehead and was able to feel a searing heat in the second before Cliff jerked away from him.

“Don’t touch me,” Cliff gasped. He looked angry, and Elliot felt hurt until Cliff added, “I’ll be good, I can go to school. Don’t call dad.”

“Cliffy, it’s me, Elliot,” Elliot said slowly, climbing onto the bed and holding his hands up when Cliff shuddered away from him. “Your mom and dad aren’t here. It’s just us.”

Cliff looked at Elliot suspiciously, his breathing labored. Elliot could hear that asthmatic wheeze back in his breath, but worse than that a deep, hollowed out noise underneath. “It’s just us,” Elliot repeated. “I promised you I’d never put my hands on you to hurt you, remember?”

It took a while, but finally Cliff nodded hesitantly, like he couldn’t quite trust that memory was real. “I don’t wanna go to school,” he mumbled. “M’tired.”

“Okay, that’s okay, no school,” Elliot reassured him. “Can we take your temperature?” Elliot slid the small instrument under Cliff’s tongue waiting anxiously for a reading. 103.2. Shit. Cliff had barely had a fever the past few days, mostly just a low one at night. Now it was noon and it was higher than ever. This didn’t seem right. Cliff whimpered in pain and wrapped his arms around himself. “What hurts?” Elliot asked.

“Chest,” Cliff said. It made a chill go down Elliot’s body. That was it. There was no begging it off this time, Cliff needed to go to the hospital. The question was how to get him there, because Elliot knew the second the word hospital was mentioned that Cliff would freak out. He racked his brain for a solution. They were the only ones home right now.

Cliff shivered and coughed that horrible deep cough that made Elliot’s stomach twist in pain. He knew Cliff might never trust him again if he did this, but he felt like he had no other choice. Cliff really needed help and he didn’t think urgent care was going to cut it this time. He made his decision. “Alright Cliff, my sweet guy,” he said. “I know you don't feel so good but we gotta go out for a bit.”

“Huh? Where?” Cliff asked suspiciously.

Elliot tried to keep an innocent expression. “Just out. Just for a bit. I need you with me though, can you do that for me?”

Elliot held his breath waiting for Cliff to answer, but finally Cliff nodded and said, “For you.” Elliot pushed down the guilt he was feeling and forced a smile at Cliff.

“You're the best,” Elliot forced himself to say with fake cheer. He coaxed Cliff into the car and drove well over the speed limit to the emergency room. He kept one eye on Cliff, anxious to get someone with medical knowledge to listen to that horrible cough that left Cliff gasping. Cliff seemed too out of it to notice when they pulled into the ER parking lot and Elliot took a deep breath, steeling himself for the inevitable fight Cliff would eventually put up.

“Cliff?”

“Hmm?” Cliff's eyes were closed, his face disturbingly pale and his chest heaving with the work of breathing. Elliot grit his teeth and forced himself to be truthful.

“We're at the hospital. I need you to get seen by a doctor.” Cliff’s eyes opened and immediately Elliot could see a mix of pain, fear and betrayal. He felt like the worst boyfriend in the world right now.

“You said we weren't going to the hospital,” Cliff’s voice wobbled. His eyes blurred with tears. “No way, I’m walking home,” he said.

Elliot, knowing Cliff had literally made his way here all the way from Newark last week, was afraid he actually would and grabbed Cliff's wrist. “Baby, please, listen to me. Cliff. You're so sick. I don't know what to do. Just let a doctor see you, we're not even in the city, your dad won't know.”

“He’ll figure it out,” Cliff said desperately, attempting to tug his arm away but Elliot didn't let go. Cliff was too weak to shake him off. “All I do is cause problems for them. I can’t.”

Elliot leaned forward so he was as close to Cliff as possible, his expression and tone begging. “Please Cliff. I’m going to protect you, but just come in with me. I’m scared. For me, please? If nothing else, for me?”

Elliot didn't think it was going to work. He physically slumped in relief when Cliff stopped pulling away and said, “Okay. For you, just this once.”

“Thank you,” Elliot gushed earnestly, squeezing Cliff's hand. “I love you, Cliff.”

“I love you too,” Cliff said, looking at Elliot with watery, exhausted eyes.

Elliot blinked in surprise. He wasn't expecting the first I Love You to come right now, or anywhere close to right now when he had just tricked and then pressured Cliff into going to the one place he was most afraid of. “You do?” He said, his voice high pitched.

Cliff nodded. “I do,” he said hoarsely. He was mostly looking at his lap but gave Elliot a sideways glance.

“Oh,” Elliot said. “Thanks, Cliff.” He wasn't sure what else to say, but Cliff looked embarrassed and was definitely clamming up, so he added, “That makes me happy. And I'm really grateful you trust me enough to get checked out. I’ll be right there the whole time.”

“Okay,” Cliff said. Another harsh coughing fit overtook him that lasted so long that by the end of it, tears were streaming down his face. He breathed sharply through his nose, trying to catch his breath. “Can't breathe, El.”

“I know. That's why we're here baby,” Elliot said worriedly. “Let's go in now.”

“Promise you won’t leave me?”

“I promise,” Elliot swore. “I’ve got you, Cliff.”

[Part 3]

#shionwrites #oc: cliff #oc: elliot #sickfic #whump #sicknario #fever whump #illness whump #sick whump #male whump #emeto #TW: emeto #novemetober rescheduled #novemetober 2023 #bad things happen bingo #hurt/comfort #angst

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irondadmadlads · 2 years

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Irondad Prompt #1:

Peter is spending the night at the tower. Everything seems fine on the outside, but Peter is beginning to show the early stages of a cold or flu. However, this is the first time Peter’s been sick while staying with Tony. In fact, it’s the first time Peter’s been sick since becoming a superhero. Surely, if Iron Man knew Peter was sick then there’s no way he’d let Peter keep the suit. Superhero’s don’t take sick days.

Except, Tony has known from the moment Peter stepped into the tower he had a slight fever. FRIDAY told him. So, if he was sneakily placing packs of tissues in the boys’ backpack or nudging him to bed early, then it was just him being an overprotective mentor.

It’s the middle of the night when FRIDAY alerts Tony that Peter is in “Extreme Distress.” Tony enters Peter’s room to see the boy sitting up in bed, sobbing, covered in sickly sweat (possibly vomit too).

Peter’s fever spiked, is what FRIDAY says. And although it’s (surprisingly) not at a dangerous level (yet), Peter isn’t faring too well with it.

After getting Peter cleaned up, Tony tries to soothe Peter enough for the boy to actually get some rest. But it’s a difficult challenge as Peter’s mind is overcome with delirium.

#irondad #spiderson #irondad and spiderson #iron man #spider man #irondad prompts #spiderson prompts #irondad and spiderson prompts #sickfic #sickfic prompts #tw: emeto #tw: emetophobia #emeto mention #emeto #emetophobia #sick peter parker #peter parker #tony stark

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irlnikeiyomiuri · 6 months

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throws ip one million times

#tw: emeto #tw: emetophobia

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juniepops · 1 year

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#is this anything #morrissey #the smiths #heaven knows i'm miserable now #emeto tw #I do not know if that is necessary for such a simplistic depiction? but I would always rather play it safe

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fucked-up-beyond-repair · 3 months

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Sharing a receptacle

For day 1 of Nov(emeto)ber @monthofsick

TW: Emeto, vomiting

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OCs: Jasper and Chase works for the supernatural department in the police. Jasper is the main detective and Chase's superior, he is oblivious to how much Chase likes his stubborn arrogant ass.

Chase complains that the food looks off, but Jasper is too hungry to care about where they eat, and dismisses the warning. In the end they end up getting food poisoning simultaneously, and must share a single bag on the bus ride home.

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Chase reluctantly takes a bite of the soggy burger, the meat has an odd gummy-like texture, and the chunky layer of ranch dressing barely manages to mask the foul odor emanating from it.

"Are you really sure we should be eating this?" Chase grimaces, casting a worried glance at his superior, who struggles to find enough time to properly chew his food.

Jasper responds with a frown. "Relax already, it tastes completely fine to me." As the bus arrives, Jasper hastily finishes the rest of the burger, washing it down with a mouthful of soda. "Besides, if something was off, I’d be first to notice," he says, words slightly muffled by the food in his mouth.

On the bus nausea begins to creep up on Chase as he struggles to swallow down the excessive salvia that is pooling in his mouth. The burger settles heavily in Chase's stomach, sloshing inside of him as the bus takes another sharp turn.

"I don't feel so good," Chase groans, clutching his stomach with both hands. Feeling like he is about to throw up, Chase fumbles open the plastic bag from the burger he wasn't able to finish.

A slight dread washes over him knowing that he only has one bag, fully aware that Jasper is likely to fall ill soon too. "Just so you know, I have a bag here if you need it."

Jasper just shifts restlessly away from Chase and pretends to fall asleep. "I feel fine, I'm just tired," he grumbles. Chase couldn’t help but smile a little at how the best detective in the district could be so capable yet so utterly hopeless at the same time.

Another sharp turn jostles Chase's stomach, intensifying his nausea. He pulls tight at the bag, feeling bile rise in his throat. He tries to swallow it down, which only makes the nausea become unbearable. His stomach convulse as everything lurch right back up again. He retches hard, filling the bag with chunky vomit.

Jasper tries his best to ignore the sounds of Chase vomiting his guts out right next to him, but the smell was starting to get to him, making his own stomach churn violently, worsening the lingering nausea he had felt the entire bus ride.

Chase manages to expel most of his remaining dinner in one large heave. Relief never comes however, still feeling horribly sick, but at least he didn't feel like he was on the verge of throwing up anymore. The bag weighs sickly in his hands, but he doesn't dispose of it in case Jasper, who is starting to get more restless, might need it.

"Are you alright?" Chase asks, watching over Jasper with deep concern. Despite facing away from him, Chase can tell that Jasper is only pretending to be alright, watching him slightly cover his quivering lips as he rests his jaw in his palm.

Jasper remained silent, throat convulsing as he repeatedly tries to swallow the bitter salvia that was filling his mouth . The effects of indigestion were finally starting to catch up with him, turning his stomach uncomfortably bloated, making him feel pained and nauseous as everything sloshes back and forth along with the bus’s movement.

He just feels sicker and sicker with each swallow. Suddenly everything in his stomach shifts, and a strong heave makes him lurch forward. Chase quickly reacts, and tries to hold out the bag in front of Jasper. "Here, just let it all out".

Jasper just closes his eyes shut, not daring to open his mouth. If there was anything he hated more than being wrong, it was being sick in public. However, feeling vomit creep up his throat, he eventually gives up and grabs the bag from Chase.

The sight of Chase's already half-digested mess is too much for Jasper, his stomach clenches hard as he retches up a large wave of watery soda and bile, which quickly fills up the bag.

He is painfully aware of what Chase complained about earlier as more vomit burns his throat with a salty rancid taste. For Jasper, the sickening smell is ten times worse, urging his body to purge itself again, bringing up a more solid mass of vomit, which falls thickly in the bag.

Despite being proven right, Chase respected Jasper too much to hold it against him. Instead, he focuses his attention on helping Jasper contain the mess while comforting his back.

"You… uhm finished?" Chase asks, swallowing hard. Watching the other man continuously spewing his guts out, triggers Chase’s own nausea to return. Jasper only responds with another retch, making Chase cringe.

When Jasper is reduced to simply drooling in the bag, Chase seizes the moment to pry the bag away from Jasper’s trembling hands.

Desperate for relief, Chase pushes deep into his own stomach and starts to heave. It’s mostly bile now, but his body seems determined to rid itself of everything he ate today, leaving him retching again and again until he is completely empty.

Despite being sore and exhausted from all the vomiting, he is able to relax a little, feeling a lot better even though he is still a bit nauseous. However, the relief is cut short as Jasper suddenly doubles down with a strangled noise, hand pressed firmly against his mouth.

“Give me the bag”, is all he manages to say before his stomach contracts, sending up a torrent of vomit that bulges his cheeks out. Unable to hold it back, vomits quickly spurts through his fingers.

Chase jumps into action, trying his best to contain the mess for him. He silently hopes Jasper is done soon as the bag is getting dangerously heavy. However, being much larger than Chase, Jasper has a lot more to throw up, continuing to heave up wave after wave of thick sour vomit. Chase eventually gives up on the bag as Jasper misses most of it, throwing up mostly on himself and the bus floor.

“Fuck…” Jasper felt his stomach cramp again, still feeling terribly nauseous despite how much he has thrown up. Exhausted, he buries his face deep in his hands, only leaving his mouth open, as he occasionally belch up smaller bursts of bile and spit.

Chase's heart drop at seeing how sick his colleague is. "I am sorry you don’t feel well," he apologizes.

Upon hearing this, Jasper frowns, straightening up slightly as he finally turns to look at Chase. It was worse than Chase chase anticipated, and he suspected Jasper was running a fever, with sweat dripping off his forehead, running down his flushed cheeks, and somehow looking even paler than he usually did.

“What” -Jasper begins, only to shut his mouth closed as nausea hits him again. With a deadpanned expression he resumes his words once the feeling passes, “What… the fuck are you sorry for? It was me who was reckless" he pouts, looking down on the floor again in frustration.

Chase stares at him confused for a while, trying to process what Jasper just said, but then he starts to smile. “Well, that’s nothing new, is it?" he says cheerfully. "Besides…" he continues , and takes off his uniform-jacket, placing it in Jasper’s vomit-soaked lap. “I should have made us lunch for a case this long.” Jasper just groans in response, not wanting to eat for a good while.

#emeto #emetophilia #sickfic #emeto fic #OCs #vomiting #tw: emeto

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