#sickie

[sickiehugs]

Tough and hot-tempered characters becoming extremely protective of their sick partner

Getting angry at anyone who dares ask their Sickie a favor while they're supposed to be resting

#sickfic #whump #whumpblr #sickie #fever whump #sickfic prompts #sickfic tropes #sick fanfic #promptiehugs #sicknario

[esbee-daisy]

When A is woken up in the middle of the night and at first they’re not sure why. They rub their eyes and look around blearily; all looks in order. But damn they’re hot. And as soon as that thought appears, they realize with a start it’s coming from next to them - and they look down in horror at B, laying curled into their side. B is absolutely radiating heat - so much so that A is sweaty just from being pressed against them, though no where near as drenched as B. B is shaking and whimpering pathetically, and looks pale even in the low light of the moon, with bright red spots high on their cheeks. A realizes they must not have been feeling well for a while and not mentioned anything, because with a fever like this there’s no way B didn’t go to bed feeling terribly unwell. And A hadn’t noticed.

A tries to wake B up gently, knowing they need to take their temperature and get them some water and meds, but after a few gentle hair strokes and rubbing of B’s arm, they realize B isn’t rousing at all. And if anything their face seems more pained and frightened than it had a minute ago. A starts getting frantic, shaking B harder and calling their name in a panic. They see B’s eyes flutter beneath the lids briefly, then stop as their head dropped even more towards the bed. A’s stomach drops when they realize their aren’t able to rouse B at all. Uh oh.

#fainting #passing out #sickfic #burning up #fever #caretaker #sickfic prompts #whump #whump prompt #unconcious #sick fic #sickie #Whumpee #sick whump #sick Whumpee #collapsed #fever fanfic

[chicken-noodle-whump]

Whump Prompt #006

That little moment when Whumpee is very ill, lying in their bed at home, half-conscious, limp, and burning with fever. Caretaker is incredibly worried and mentioning taking Whumpee to a hospital. Suddenly Whumpee grabs Caretaker's hand with strength Caretaker didn't know they had, squeezing it as they gaze at Caretaker with more focus than they've seen all day.

"D-don't go."

The words are slurred and shaky, but paired with Whumpee's tears, the Caretaker can't even say no.

#whump #whumpee #delicious #whump prompt #sick #sickie #sickfic #sickness

[i-think-im-gunna]

Here's the video from a while back that I mentioned. It just kept happening and I could hardly breath in-between vomiting. It just wouldn't stop.

#emeto #emetophilia #belly kink #vomit kink #irl emeto #irl vomit #burping #sickie #puke #upset tummy

[biblicallyinaccurateangels]

anyone else been obsessed with whump from a young age? any scene when a character was sick, hurt or just generally being taken care of i would reread or rewatch it over and over again, and i would literally play the scene over and over again in my head to fall asleep at night

#the last one might have just been a me thing #whump #fever whump #i was OBSESSED with fevers #sickie #sickfic

[ladymirwen]

Allow me to emphasise: cozy-sick vibes

A sick character sitting up in bed, a fuzzy blanket draped over their legs. They're dressed in a comfy sweater, or even a onesie, trying to keep themselves as warm as possible.

A sick character cradling a warm cup of soothing, herbal tea in their cold hands, sipping on it delicately in hopes of easing their stomach cramps.

Sickie's concerned friend dropping by to visit them and bringing along a stuffed animal as a present. Sickie cuddles up with the present, and is perhaps gifted a forehead kiss or two~

Sickie's s/o runs a warm bath for them in an attempt to soothe their lover's cold, stiff muscles.

Soup is a compulsory meal in a sickfic. I don't even need to point this out :)

A sly caretaker is always good. Perhaps sickie refuses to take their medicine, so caretaker offers to make them a warm drink and sneakily mixes the medicine with said drink.

May I mention... ✨️belly rubs✨️ There's something so adorable about a sick character being soothed in this way. Belly rubs don't even have to serve a medical purpose; the intention could just be to comfort the sickie physically.

#sickfic #caretaker #sickfic prompts #fanfiction #writing prompt #sickie #caretaker prompts

[whackmewithwhump]

can we talk about different types of belly noises and different things that they might indicate??

nervous stomachs for example often have the same types of noises, long, hollow moans, often very loud, sounding like big, pockets of air shifting around, cause that’s usually exactly what is happening

high pitched, twisty sounding noises are often the complaints of a nauseous stomach

another indicator of a sick tummy is a low, slow, rolling, almost foamy sounding gurgle, followed by a very high pitched creaking noise at the end

there is the constant bubbling and gurgling of a belly that might not feel super sick per se, but is absolutely unsettled, upset, and icky.

#found this in drafts #guess I forgot abt it #I also think I have recordings of all these sounds lol #glad I have smth in drafts cause I wanna be active #but life is kicking my ass lol #tummy ache #whump #emeto #belly ache #belly kink #upset stomach #bellyache #belly rubs #nausea #sickfic #sickie #sickfic inspo #belly noises #belly sounds

[jurassicsickfics]

Older character becoming super clingy and having some separation anxiety from their younger caretaker, because they can't see or hear very well and being sick just amplifies that vulnerability.

#sicknario #sickfic prompts #sickfic #hurt/comfort prompts #caretaker #sickie #cute prompts #fluffy

[hearts4nagito]

Finished Tartaglia ! Who’s next :D

#genshin impact #sneeze kink #snzblr #sickie

[irondadidontfeelsogood]

Tower of Terror (reader request)

cw: vomit. This is another long, self indulgent one, and now one of my favorites—enjoy.

—————

To say that today was a long day would be a drastic understatement. After a school day full of his teachers somehow synchronizing their pop quizzes and exam reviews, he’d headed straight to the tower for training and lab work. His brain and his body are completely fried, so after being granted permission by May, he asks Tony if he can stay the night. He’s not sure he could stay conscious for the subway ride home.

“Sure, Pete. Does that mean you’re ready to cash?”

“Mhm,” Peter hums in response, his eyes threatening to fall shut and not open again.

Tony breathes out a quiet laugh. “Okay. Goodnight, kid.”

Peter murmurs something that sort of sounds like ‘goodnight’ but could also just be a random collection of consonants. He turns away, heading toward the elevator slowly. He feels totally drained, like his limbs each weigh a hundred pounds more than when he’d woken up this morning.

His head is throbbing with what’s sure to become a bad migraine if he doesn’t get to sleep soon. The air gets a little warmer as he ascends the elevator, and that nearly clocks him. He only just makes it to bed before he’s out, basically dead to the world.

Nightmares plague him instantly. He’s tossing at sea, and then he’s buried alive, and then he’s bleeding out fast—all alone in the middle of nowhere. At the end of it all, his heart clenches with the sharp feeling of free-falling, and he wakes abruptly, his lungs greedily gasping for air.

For several minutes, he has no idea where the hell he is. All he knows is that he’s soaked to his mattress in sweat, aching all over, and nauseous to the point of vertigo. He makes the mistake of sitting up. Instantly, the dark room around him seems to tilt forward endlessly, and he grips onto his sheets with white-knuckled fists.

God only knows what time it is or why his shoes are still on. He toes them off, hearing them land unceremoniously on the floor. He sits there for some time, trying desperately to remember anything about what happened before he’d woken up here. Nothing much surfaces.

He calls out for May, and is met with complete silence. That never happens unless she’s taken third shift. Maybe she had to pick up more hours?

Finally, he remembers that he’s at the tower, and he instantly feels worse. Being sick at the tower means he’s either going to suffer alone or bear the colossal embarrassment of having to ask for help from an Avenger. He groans, letting his head fall into his hands.

His headache is still pressing tight against his skull, and he feels like his brain and bones have turned to liquid. His stomach churns. With another groan, he lets himself lie back down against his sweat-cooled pillows.

Though he remains motionless in the dark room, his nausea only grows. He was hoping that it would fade as the nightmares did, but he isn’t so lucky. It feels like he’s swallowed an entire lake.

The internal battle has begun. He imagines how awful it would be for everyone to know. If he started hurling, it wouldn’t be long at all before everyone in the building caught wind of what was going on. FRIDAY isn’t great at keeping secrets.

He’s Spider-Man. He’s supposed to be a hero, not some kid that wakes up in the middle of the night with a tummy ache. The mere idea is mortifying.

Unfortunately, there’s nothing he can do about the circumstances that have been dealt to him, and if he tries to ignore them any longer, things are only going to get worse. So, he forces himself to his feet, feeling weak and full of dread.

The tower is silent as he makes his way to the kitchen, the floor seemingly tilting under his feet. He has to keep a hand on the wall beside him to avoid falling over. The journey feels ten times longer than it usually does.

He’s exhausted when he finally reaches the kitchen, heading straight for the fridge. He fills up a glass of water and sips at it gingerly. It feels nice going down his throat, but not very nice at all sitting on top of the dinner in his stomach. He groans, leaning over the countertop. He burps quietly, nauseated almost beyond what he can handle.

Miserable, he lazily drags his gaze toward the cabinet where Tony keeps all the medicine. Pepto is Peter’s absolute last resort. It almost never works, and it tastes so bad that he’s vomited from the taste alone on many occasions.

Unfortunately, he’s feeling like he might have to try. If he doesn’t, that means he’s accepted the inevitable fate of emptying his stomach in a building full of Avengers. With a dramatic groan, he moves over to the cabinet, grabbing the bottle of neon pink liquid.

He stares at it with distaste, nearly shuddering at just the thought of it. If he’s going to do this it has to be quick, like a shot of tequila. He pours some onto a spoon and stares again.

Finally, he takes it, chasing it immediately with water. He swallows convulsively, begging his stomach to grant him some sort of mercy. He feels a surge of violent nausea and presses a palm over his mouth.

He shuts his eyes, swallows again, and takes several deep breaths through his nose. The wave of nausea passes slowly, painfully. His stomach makes a noise that probably means fuck you.

Fuck you too, he thinks hazily. When he feels like he might be in the clear, he pours out the rest of his water and sets the glass in the sink. His stomach turns over as he begins his walk toward the stairs. Why he picked the stairs over the elevator, he has no idea.

He’s only halfway up when he suddenly feels the worst swell of nausea yet, stopping him right in his tracks. His stomach churns hard, bringing with it a hot, rising feeling in his throat. He cages his mouth again as it rapidly fills with watery spit.

He can feel the color completely drain from his face as he stands frozen on the staircase. His heart is hammering in his chest as he silently begs God, the universe, someone to keep him from puking right now. Unsurprisingly, his prayers go unanswered.

That awful feeling of dread doubles, pouring over him like hot tar. He feels an intense urge to gag, and he’s entirely unable to stop himself from submitting to it. He pitches forward suddenly, spewing a huge gush of pink vomit all over the stairs in front of him.

Again, he vomits, splattering his hours-old dinner all over the hardwood and his socks. Immediately, he throws up again for four straight seconds. He gasps for air afterward, dizzy from the effort of being so sick.

In the eye of the hurricane, he somehow convinces himself that now is his only chance to get to a bathroom. His whole body is shaking as he climbs the rest of the stairs. By the time he reaches the hallway that connects to the one where is room is, he’s sweating bullets and so overwhelmed with nausea that he has to stop again.

He takes one more uncomfortable breath and folds, throwing up all over the floor. With his stomach all but exploding out of him, he can hardly believe that no one has peeked their head out of their room to see what the noise is. At the same time, he’s so incredibly grateful for that.

He takes two more steps and pukes again, even more than he thought possible. He coughs, spewing out mouthfuls of vomit between each one. It’s nearly a full three minutes before he can get himself to stop retching.

He pants for a few more minutes, desperate for air. His vision is blurred with tears of exertion, and even if he weren’t crying, he’d barely be able to see anyway. His head is reeling.

It’s in that moment that he realizes he’s too sick to be alone. The terrible truth sends his heart down to his stomach, and his tears become real. He only allows himself a few minutes to cry in private before he begins to consider his options.

There’s Tony, of course, but he thinks he’d rather die than have Tony see him puke his guts out. There’s Nat, but she might remind him too much of May, and he’s not emotionally stable enough for that right now. He continues to go down the list, and by the end of it, he finds himself settling on Clint.

He has kids, so maybe he’d be a little less traumatized by the whole thing. He’s also generally calmer than most of them, so hopefully he won’t yell or treat him like a burden. Clint it is.

His room is a floor up, so Peter opts for the elevator this time. He wipes the tears from his face and tries his best to regain composure. Unfortunately, he’s still feeling like a giant pile of shit, so it’s easier said than done.

When he reaches Clint’s room, he pauses in front of the door. This is it. Either he leaves the mess and tries to stay conscious long enough to get back to his room, or he tells Clint the truth. As if on cue, he suddenly almost feels more ill than he has all night, apart from right before he’d been sick.

Before he can convince himself otherwise, he knocks on the door. When a minute of silence goes by, he knocks again, a bit louder this time. After a few seconds, he hears shuffling on the other side of the door. He steps back a little, and it slowly swings open to reveal Clint, still half asleep.

“Peter? It’s nearly four in the morning, what are you doing up?”

“Um,” Peter so eloquently breathes out, suddenly unable to get ahold of himself. Fresh tears well up without his permission. “I…I’m…”

Clint’s expression changes from one of confusion to one of parental concern. He steps a little closer.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

A couple tears spill over, and he wipes them away before they reach his chin. He tries again to explain, but he can’t seem to form the words in the right order. This fever must be really cooking his brain.

“Do you wanna come in and talk?” he softly offers.

Peter shakes his head a little. His head spins. “I’m…I need help.”

“What’s going on? Are you hurt?”

Peter shakes his head again. If his stomach wasn’t still sitting high in his throat, this would be much easier. He doesn’t have that luxury, but he tries again.

“I…I just thr—,” is all he manages before his stomach decides to make another appearance. He has all of half a second to aim somewhere else besides Clint’s feet. He turns to the side, vomiting through his fingers, down the front of his shirt, and onto the floor.

“Oh—oh, wow. Okay,” Clint blurts, probably wide awake now. Peter chokes up another round of sick onto his socks. “Alright, hey, come here.”

He takes Peter’s arm and begins leading him into the room. Peter does everything humanly possible to keep from throwing up on Clint’s floor, and when he finally drops to his knees in front of the toilet, he vomits so violently that he sees stars. Clint curses under his breath, a hand resting on Peter’s back as it heaves.

For the next several minutes, Peter is barely lucid. With what little consciousness he has, he tries hard to aim toward the water and nowhere else. He’s made enough of a mess as it is.

“It’s okay, buddy. Breathe,” Clint urges. Peter’s trying.

He’s sure he’s throwing up his actual organs after a few minutes. The only thing he can do is drape over the bowl and try not to pass out. He nearly fails.

Mercifully, he stops throwing up before the lack of oxygen gets to his head. He takes several more minutes to recover. The whole time, Clint is telling him it’s alright, that he’s going to be okay. Peter’s not so sure.

He’s really glad he’s not alone, especially now that he’s gone severely downhill. He can’t imagine being holed up in his room. He’d probably still be decorating the carpet with his stomach contents if he hadn’t come here.

The calm lasts all of eight minutes, and then Peter is suddenly launched into a fit of dry heaving. Despite his stomach being totally empty, the nausea is still rampant. He has no idea what he did to deserve this. Poor Clint doesn’t deserve this either. When he breaks his silence, it’s clear he’s reaching his limit.

“Alright, Pete…try and take it easy, kid. You’re really sick, and I’m…I think I’m gonna have to get Tony.”

That same dread pours over him. That’s the last thing he wanted. Even just the thought makes his face heat up fast. He can’t exactly express his disapproval when he’s actively still gagging. It’s too late, anyway.

“FRIDAY, could you send Tony down here, please?”

“Right away, sir.”

“Thanks,” he murmurs, his hand now rubbing along Peter’s spine.

Only a couple minutes pass before Peter hears Tony’s voice call from inside the room. He groans, lurching forward with another gag. A small trickle of bile comes up this time.

“In here,” Clint calls back.

“What the hell happened out here, Clint? Are you—,” Tony asks, stopping short as he crosses the threshold of the bathroom. Peter can’t help himself. He retches again, another rush of acidic bile washing over the roof of his mouth and into the toilet.

He can only imagine Tony’s reaction to walking in on Peter curled around a toilet full of puke. He’s so mortified he could die. Why does this kind of shit have to happen to him?

“He’s been like this for probably over ten minutes,” Clint explains. “I didn’t really know how to help him or I wouldn’t have woken you up. You know him better than I do.”

“Oh, kid…are you sick or is this a head thing?” Tony asks, taking Clint’s place beside him.

“M’sick,” he manages, half-choked on another heave.

“I’m sorry, Pete. How long have you been feeling bad?”

Thankfully, the retches are tapering off, and he can finally breathe a little. He spits and swallows against the rawness in his throat.

“Only when I woke up a while ago,” he breathes out. Suddenly, he remembers his stunt on the stairs. He groans, letting his head drop to where his arms are folded across the toilet. “I…I threw up all over the stairs and the hall before I came here…m’really sorry, Tony.”

“It’s alright, kid, I know you couldn’t help it.”

“But…”

“It’s okay, really. Do you feel like you’re done?”

Peter hums lowly. He nods. It’s the truth. He’s sure there’s absolutely nothing left in him to throw up, and the nausea is finally waning.

“Alright, good. I’ve got him, Clint, you can go back to sleep.”

“Are you sure? I can start cleaning outside my room.”

Tony shakes his head. “No, it’s fine, I’ve got bots that can do most of it. I’ll handle the stairs. We’re good.”

“Okay, well come get me if you change your mind.”

“You’ve already done enough, thank you for taking him in.”

“It’s no problem.”

With that, Clint leaves, and Tony is alone with Peter in his misery and embarrassment. He offers Peter some toilet paper, and he thanks him, wiping his mouth. He closes the lid and flushes the toilet.

With Tony’s help, he gets up from the floor to wash his mouth out. It makes him feel marginally better. Tony leads him out of the room, and Peter does his best not to gag at seeing the result of his earlier performance in the hallway. Tony starts leading him to his room, and when they get in the elevator, he finally breaks the heavy silence.

“You know you can always come get me if you’re feeling bad, right?”

Peter wilts a little. “I know, thank you, it’s just…I thought I could take some medicine and just go back to sleep, but obviously that didn’t work out. And I really didn’t want to bother a literal Avenger just because I had a stomachache.”

“Well, last time I checked, we’re on a first name basis, so it shouldn’t be that intimidating, kiddo. If you’re feeling like you’re gonna puke, you should let me know. It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Just…future reference. I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but at least I won’t have to worry about you being passed out in your own sick somewhere.”

It’s nice to know that Tony isn’t pissed or grossed out, but Peter prays he’ll never have to put that earlier offer into practice. He’s had enough of everyone watching him hurl. The heat creeps back up onto his cheeks as they reach his room.

“Okay…m’still sorry I got sick on the floor.”

“It’s completely fine, kid. Don’t worry about it, shit happens. Are you feeling any better?”

Peter shrugs, sitting on the edge of his bed. Tony scoots the trash can over to sit beside his bed. He lets out a short sigh.

“Well, I have a feeling your immune system is going to knock this thing out pretty fast.” Peter hopes he’s right, for both their sakes. “Here, let me get you some clean clothes. Want anything specific?”

Peter shakes his head. Tony nods, turning to the dresser. He brings over a t-shirt, some sweatpants, and clean socks.

“You can just leave the dirty stuff on the floor.”

“M’kay. Thank you.”

“Sure thing, Pete. I’m gonna grab you some water. Hang tight. And remember, you can always call me if you need anything at all.”

“Thank you,” he repeats softly.

When Tony leaves and Peter is done changing out of his dirty clothes, he’s all alone with the memory of tonight. The mortification is stifling, but he pushes the thoughts away with all the mental strength he has left. Turns out it’s not much, and he’s out like a light before Tony even returns.

—————

A/N: Thank you for reading! And thank you for the request! I loved writing this one, and I hope it’s at least a little like what you imagined it would be.

#iron dad #marvel sickfic #peter parker #sickfic #cw vomit #peter parker sickfic #iron dad sickfic #iron man #tony stark #sick #clint barton #hawkeye #hurt/comfort #sickie

[sickiehugs]

An overworker who so desperately wants someone to tell them to take a break, because they so badly want one and they know they need one but they can't give themself one.

They work themself sick, yet still, with a blanket wrapped around their shivering form, pale skin as white as the blanks that their foggy mind keeps drawing, and a crimson flush on their warm, tear-stained cheeks, they keep working.

Their partner checks on them.

"Oh...! Oh, honey. Oh, my baby. I didn't know it was this bad..." They rush closer and wrap their arms tight around their sick sweetheart and whisper, "Honey, please stop. You've done enough, you need to rest."

Finally given permission to have a break, they simply melt into their partners arms, practically going limp like a tired little ragdoll. "...okay..." is all they manage to mumble before sleep finally wins the battle that'd been going for weeks.

They're carried from their desk to their bed, covers are layed over them, they're tucked in nice and snug, and when they wake up, they'll probably cry. This is exactly what they needed someone to do.

#sickfic #whump #whumpblr #sickie #fever whump #sickfic prompts #sickfic tropes #sick fanfic #promptiehugs #overworked #hurt/comfort

[esbee-daisy]

Caretaker is SOOOO pissed and hysterical with panic over Sickie’s state. Sickie had just minutes before sworn they were fine. And now here they are, collapsed on the floor in a heap of limp limbs, and Caretaker is screaming and ranting at them before they can even think. After unleashing on them, Sickie looks up at Caretaker with wet, glossy eyes, looking positively pitiful, and in a weaker voice than could be imagined stutters out “I’m sorry….I…I really didn’t know…it was this bad.” The look of utter confusion and remorse on Sickie’s face is just so genuine and so pathetic that Caretaker can’t help but feel an immediate crushing wave of guilt.

#sickfic #sickie #caretaker #sickfic prompt #sickfic prompts #sickfic whump #whump #whump prompt #limp #collapsed #fever #sick #passing out #fainting #burning up #collapsing

[i-think-im-gunna]

so sometimes i will get random coughing fits, usually in the morning or at night. last night i had something that already wasn't sitting well and on top of that i was having a coughing fit, which triggered a burping fit which made me so fucking sick. i think i ended up puking like 5-7 times? i had to go lay down and try to suck on a cough candy to try and stop the coughing.

#emeto #emetophilia #belly kink #vomit kink #irl emeto #irl vomit #burping #sickie #eructo #food poisoning #puke #burp #emeto kink #tummy ache #belly ache #sick

[crystalsnow95z]

Drabble written within two hours just because inspiration struck. Posting as is because I'm so lazy.

Sickie; Yoongi with bad cold.

Caretaker: mostly Jin

Why do they have to be so loud? Yoongi puts in his earpieces to try to muffle the sound of Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook warming up their voices. They were singing nursery songs, but singing it at a higher octave with each line, seeing who could hit the highest note.

He usually isn't bothered by their playful nature, but even after taking medicine, he still felt pressure behind his eyes, the high pitch sounds making it worse. A tickle in his throat made him cough again, trying to muffle it. Maybe the medicine just wore off..

"Are you sure you're feeling up to this Yoongi?" Jin asks voice thick with worry. "You've been coughing all morning.." He swore that Yoongi had been running a fever when he woke him up, but when staff checked when they got to the venue, he was only a fee degrees warmer than usual.

"I can do it, it's been three years since we've been here, and I don't know when we can come back. It's just my voice. It's fine Hyungie.." Yoongi coughs into his arm, wincing at the pain. "I'll just leave the shouting to the others.."

"It's time for the sound check." A staff member tells them, giving Yoongi his escape from his only hyung.

"Okay, we're coming, thank you.." Namjoon answers with a bow. "If you change your mind no one will blame you okay? Sometimes you're just unlucky.."

"I'll ask staff for some medicine after the sound check. I'll be okay." Maybe if I say it enough, it'll be true.. Yoongi goes with the others onto the stage, staying close to Hoseok, leaning against him. Hoseok's takes Yoongi's hand, giving it a squeeze. "Your energy being low before the concert even started isn't a good sign." J-hope frets over him, pushing a lock of hair behind his ear.

"The crowd will give me energy. I'll be.. Heh'ehhitchew..!" A sneeze cuts him off, wiping his nose with his sleeve, sighing with irritation.

"Hyung just admit it. This isn't just a little cold.." Hoseok finds a tissue. "If you're going to go at least try to clear your nose.."

"I'll be fine." Yoongi tries to feign confidence, clearing his throat to try to stop from coughing. Yesterday, it was an annoying tickle, but today, he was completely congested, his sinuses leaving pain behind his eyes. He turns his head away from Hoseok blowing the mucus out the best he can. "Gross.." he murmurs, throwing it into the waste bin.

"Take it easy, okay?"Hoseok squeezes his hand, feeling a little more at ease when Yoongi's breathing comes softer than before. "Please don't push yourself, please?"

"Hey hey.." Namjoon's voice through his mic makes the crowd roar with excitement, making Yoongi bite his lip as the pain flares up, pinching the bridge of his nose. I can do this. It's fine..

Everyone had started playfully talking to army, but when Yoongi goes to take his turn, instead of his voice coming out, he nearly coughs into the mic, quickly pulling the mic away and coughing into his fist.

"Min Yoongi. Min Yoongi.." The crowd screams his name, giving him the strength he needs. They're so excited to see me. I have to push through.

"Army are you ready for tonight?" Yoongi usually yells the words, but couldn't get his voice above his normal speaking voice. "Make some noise!"

The screams sounded louder to Yoongi than it did any of the previous shows they've done that month, but he couldn't tell if it was from his aching head or if army were actually louder.

The crowd chanted and screamed as the other members walked around the stage, making hearts and blowing kisses, showering army with affection as they sang their parts.

Yoongi pushes through his part, ignoring the urge to cough and pressing his fingers on his chest as he finishes, going to the edge of the stage for water. I sounded so bad..My voice cracked at the end.. He smiled when he made eye contact with someone trying to push away his negative thoughts, regretting it when they let out a shrill scream.

He goes back by the other members, feeling a wave of nausea from the pain, swaying into someone. Yoongi felt someone's foot under his, apologizing when he saw Taehyung next to him, looking at him with a worried expression. He's not doing well..I gotta do something.. he's swaying.."Hyungie.."

Yoongi's eyes were dulling, and tears were forming. His skin glowed with sweat, and Taehyung could see his hand trembling.

"Hyung lean on me okay?" Taehyung orders gently, removing one of Yoongi's earpieces to speak with him, unsure if he even understood him.

My vision..everything's fading.. I'm gonna faint.. I'm so dizzy.. Yoongi involuntarily let's out a soft moan, leaning into Taehyung just to stay on his feet. Despite Taehyung being right behind him his voice sounds far away, as if he were listening underwater.

Taehyung keeps his hands firmly on Yoongi as he quickly moves to hug him from behind, holding Yoongi by the waist as he sings his part, singing a half second behind the music. Army squeal loudly to see Taehyung's sudden display of affection of the Daegu rapper, unaware it wasn't just love that made Taehyung hold him so tightly.

Yoongi's knees were threatening to buckle from underneath him, and Taehyung holding him was the only thing that was keeping him on his feet. Taehyung hides this fact by making it look like he's just playing,lightly swinging Yoongi to the beat of the music,but the other members look over with concern when they see Yoongi not putting up any fight.

Yoongi is completely out of it for another minute before recovering, panicked for a moment when he momentarily forgot where he was. Pulling away from Taehyung to stand on his own, he takes a few deep breaths to clear his head.

"I'm okay.." Yoongi whispers to Taehyung, just in time for Jimin to finish the last verse of the song, just barely recovering on time. My visions still fuzzy..but I can't let the crowd know.. Taehyung lets go of his waist but grabs Yoongi's hand, the seven boys meeting up center stage to say a quick 'see you later' and return to back stage. Taehyung keeps his arm around Yoongi as they bow, not risking him falling forward, leading him down the steps.

"Yoongi-hyung fainted on stage." Taehyung blurts to the other members as soon as they enter the back room.

"Seriously?" Hoseok's eyes widen, putting his hand on Yoongi's back. "Hyung you can't do this if you're already that weak..

"What? That's why you were holding him?" Jungkook questions, reaching to touch Yoongi's cheek.

"You should sit down." Jin orders softly.

"We need to get a doctor." Namjoon tries to control the situation. "Give him some space guys.."

The members all started talking at once, making Yoongi's head spin once more. He steps back, trying to escape all the grasping hands and worried team. Please be quiet..

"I was just dizzy for a few seconds, that's all. It's no big deal. He's just overreacting." Yoongi tried to calm their worries, giving a glare at the younger Daegu boy for telling them this. It took every ounce of willpower he had to regain consciousness, but he didn't want the others to know.

"I'm just worried about you.."Taehyung squeezes Yoongi's hand, but Yoongi pulls his away from him, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Well, worry about yourself. You already messed up during sound check."Yoongi didn't want Taehyung or the others making mistakes, but his voice came out more aggressive than he intended instantly, regretting his harsh tone when he met Taehyung's misty eyes.

"I'm just worried about you.." Taehyung blinks quickly to fight off the tears, pointing his nose upwards.

Jin notices it too, wrapping his arm around the vocalist. "Yoongi-yah, I know how frustrating it can be to not be in good condition before a show, but you don't have to take it out on us. Apologize to Taehyung.."

"I'm sorry, Taehyung-ah.." Yoongi says sincerely, placing his hand on his shoulder. He usually didn't lose his patience so easily, especially not with the youngest of members. "I should've said that.. I just have a headache and it's making me irritable.."

"It's okay.."Taehyung hugs Yoongi. "I know i messed up my timing, but i couldn't let you fall in front of our fans."

"I know, and I'm grateful.. I'm just pissed at the situation not you..." Yoongi pushes Taehyung away, coughing into his elbow.

Their's short embrace was enough to get the others set back on track with the core problem. Could Yoongi perform?

"Yoongi-hyung, you've been coughing all day and hardly ate the past few days.." J-hope frets over Yoongi, helping staff dry the sweat off his face. "And you look pretty pale. Are you sure you can do this?"

"I just need to take some medicine, I already talked to staff this morning, and it's just a cold. I'll be fine." Yoongi tries to calm Hoseok, trying to not get frustrated with Hoseok too. It's the same conversation i had with Hyung earlier... "Don't worry about me, just focus on getting ready for the show. I'll take it easy. Okay?"

"Alright, just.. know your limits, okay?"Hoseok hugs Yoongi before going to get changed for the concert. He's so stubborn, but there's nothing I can do..

Yoongi changes into his set clothes, not realizing how much he was shaking until he tried to put his earrings in, almost stabbing his earlobe.

"Let hyung do it." Yoongi jumped in surprise when he heard Jin's voice next to him, taking the hoop from his unsteady hand and putting it in place, doing the same for the other side. "I brought you some medicine and some vitamins." Jin tells yoongi while opening the bottles, putting a mixture of tablets into his palm. "These should help keep your strength up and help with that migraine.."

"Thanks, hyung.."Yoongi sniffles then sighs. "I hope i can at least get better by day three..my voice sounds so congested.."Yoongi takes the cocktail of tablets with a gulp of water. "Heh'ehhitchaaugh.." Yoongi sneezes with an annoyed whine at the end.

"If you need to stop at any point during the show, you need to tell us, okay? Your health comes first above anything else. If you don't feel like you can do it, we can work around it." Jin says, sounding like a concerned parent, rubbing his thumbs gently over Yoongi's temples. The soft motion ebbs some of the pain away.

"If it gets to that point, I'll let you know..thanks hyung.." Yoongi coughs into his fist, Jin rubbing his back. He can feel the eyes of the other members looking at him, sighing. "I hate this.."

"I know yoon, but just remember no one blames you. Rest up until it's time to go. Hyung will wake you up in time to warm up." Jin says, taking his jacket and balling it up on the floor as a pillow. Yoongi obeys, his body instantly growing heavier as soon as he lays down.

"I love you yoongi." Jin gives him a quick kiss on the top of his head, brow furrowing with worry when he notices Yoongi's eyes already closed. He's exhausted..

"You too.." He murmurs his reply, already half asleep.

"Yoongi really isn't well.." Yoongi hears Namjoon whispering, but he felt too groggy to open his eyes. "He's got a fever and his coughing hasn't let up much."

A fever? No. No.. Sh*t.. I gotta pull myself together.. Yoongi sits up slowly, Namjoon's jacket falling off him. When did he cover me up? How long have I been asleep?

"Namjoon-ah, don't worry about it, I'm feeling better now.." Yoongi wasn't lying, but it wasn't by much. His headache dulled down, and it didn't hurt as much to talk, but his body still ached all over, and he felt freezing despite the fact it was so hot backstage. I have to perform..

"You don't look like you're feeling better, but you know your limits more than I do, just pace yourself okay? I don't want you to pass out again, hyung." Namjoon says, ignoring his gut feeling to tell him to stay back. He knew how much this meant to Yoongi all too well.

"I won't. I can do this.." Yoongi tells Namjoon, but it was more for himself, he holds out his hand for Namjoon to pull him to his feet.

"Staff called five minutes, we were just coming to wake you. We wanted to let you rest as long as you could." Jin gives Yoongi a cup of green tea with lemon. "Maybe this will help your voice a bit.."

Yoongi sips it,wincing when he swallows. Its gotten worse..it didn't hurt to drink before..The liquid did nothing to soothe his swollen throat, but he thanked Jin nonetheless.

The members gathered together, chanting to psych themselves up, Yoongi biting his lip to avoid coughing, adding his two fingers to the pile but not shouting with the others.

The seven boys go to the steps leading to the stage, yoongi staying close to his only hyung.

"My poor Yoongi.." Jin squeezes his shoulder. "Please take it easy, okay?"

Yoongi nods, soaking in the cheers of the crowd when they enter the stage, quickly getting into position, starting with black swan. He closes his eyes, letting his body go through the motions from muscle memory when he wasn't rapping, the synergy of the crowd giving him the strength he needed. His voice was drowned out over the background music, army having to be quiet to hear him.

He was okay for the first two songs, but when he was on the sidelines for mic drop, he couldn't suppress his cough anymore. He felt Namjoon take his mic from his hand when he doubled over so his coughing wasn't caught on the mic.

No. It can't come back yet.. it hasn't even been that long..His cough made the pulsating headache return, him rubbing at his temples for the few seconds he had to spare before his part came brushing his back against Hoseok when they switched who was rapping, his voice came out with a cough for the first few words but quickly recovered.

Namjoon was ready to back him up, holding his mic close to his mouth, but Yoongi already had several voices singing with him.

Army had joined him, Yoongi taking out one of his earpieces to hear them, letting them sing the last line, walking to get his tea to dry to soothe his throat.

"You did well."

"You got this!"

"We love you min Yoongi."

"It's okay!"

Army shout encouraging words in several languages, but instead of making him feel better, he felt the pressure to try harder. These army traveled from all over the world.. i have to try harder.. Yoongi takes a deep breath, putting his cup down and running to his spot.

After mic drop, they did their greeting, bowing to army. "Hello, we are BTS!" The members go down the line with individual introductions. We aren't even halfway over yet..and there's the rap medley..

Yoongi sits on the stage, closing his eyes. The stress only made him feel worse. He was freezing, though he was sweating under the stage lights. Nausea washed over him, wrapping his arm around his stomach.

Jin takes a seat behind him, pulling him to lean into him. "You need to calm down, Yoon.." Jin whispers. "If you keep worrying like this, I'll have to pull you. You're doing fine. Army understands. You have to understand, too. They don't care about just the music. They care about you."

Yoongi takes a few deep breaths to calm himself. Only just now hearing army never stopped chanting for him.

"Army doesn't want you worrying about being good. They just want you to be happy and healthy." Jimin tells Yoongi, his words making army scream with agreement.

"Army.." Yoongi talks into his mic, the crowd falling silent. "I have to admit it, i can't give you my all, but I'll give what I can, but I'll need you to help me"

#bts boys #bts #bts taehyung #bts jungkook #bts sickfic #bts namjoon #bts sickie #bts fanfic #bts jhope #bts jimin #sick!fic #sickie #min yoongi #sick!yoongi

[ladymirwen]

A desperate caretaker. A scared caretaker.

Their eyes are wide with fear, their chin quivering slightly as they take in the condition of their friend.

Maybe sickie is trying to tough it out for their sake, maybe they're hiding the true extent of their pain because they don't want to upset caretaker even more.

Better yet, perhaps this pain isn't even physical, and therefore cant be identified as fastly or treated as efficiently as a wound or broken bone.

'How- how can I make it better? Tell me.' Caretaker's voice is small, helpless, but most of all, frantic.

Their hands hover uselessly over sickie's frail form, unsure where to lay their hands lest they cause their friend pain. 'What do I do,' they murmur to themselves, brow creasing in worry, eyes searching their friend frantically for some source of their pain, but finding none.

Sickie tries to smile reassuringly, but it only ends in a troubling grimace.

Now, is sickie strong enough to give caretaker instructions, to guide them verbally? Are they able to ask for a certain medicine, or a specific treatment to help relieve their pain?

Or are they too weak, leaving caretaker fumbling around as they try their best to ease their friend's discomfort? In this scenario, does a third party finally come to their aid, a fresh set of eyes and a clear mind that helps out?

Overall, a timid caretaker who is trying their best despite their inexperience is both adorable and heartbreaking.

#sickfic #whump ideas #whump prompt #sickfic prompts #caretaker #whump #sickie

[whackmewithwhump]

I’ve been thinking a lot about people being sick at formal events where they’re all dressed up

Imagine someone dizzy and feverish struggling to keep their balance in heels. Someone who painstakingly applied makeup for it to only be gradually smeared and sweated off throughout the evening.

While people are mingling, everywhere they turn there is someone offering another glass of champagne, or an hors d’œuvre, and despite not being hungry or their stomach feeling a little uneasy, they’re too polite to decline. They keep drinking and eating, feeling worse as the night goes on, and all of this is before what is likely an elaborate and rich gourmet banquet.

Everyone is uptight and showing the best sides of themselves so there is no room to display their discomfort, there is no chance to escape smalltalk that is so mind numbing each word seems to add weight to their body which is feeling increasingly like it is made of lead.

By the time they excuse themselves, sure that they’re going to be sick, they’re too dizzy and unsteady to make their way to the bathroom quickly enough, particularly if they’re wearing heels. They end up throwing up on themselves, maybe getting it in their hair, and in their feverish state this is what really sets them off. They’re upset, inconsolable, tears beginning to fall because “this thing is dry clean only” whether it be a dress or a suit, and in their mild delirium this becomes their main misdirected concern.

I don’t know what it is about it, but that is what I’m vibing with rn

#whump #emeto #sickfic #sick fic #sickie #sick fic idea #emetophilia #sickfic scenario #whump ideas #whump tropes #fever whump #tummy ache #nausea