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salembutnotthecat · 3 months

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Novemetober (Rescheduled) | Day Seven

@monthofsick

day seven: too feverish to think

i started fics for day five and day six but i experienced some offline health issues (ironic, right?) so i’ll either post them later and tag them or just post them on their own after the event. we’ll see.

decided to write another flashback fic. this time of novak in college. totally, definitely, absolutely not based off true events.

this fic happens around novak’s junior year of college.

if you have questions, comments, or requests, feel free to send!

tw emeto, sickness, overwork, stress, panic attack, fainting

Novak sat on his bed, leaning against the wall. He was hunched over his notes, rubbing his eyes in a futile attempt to ward off the exhaustion creeping into his bones.

He grabbed his phone. He checked the time.

3:27AM

Benji stirred in his bunk, his sleep-addled brain registering the soft rustle of papers and the occasional frustrated sigh emanating from his roommate's direction.

With a groan, he rolled over.

"Novak," Benji's voice was exhausted, but he still seemed worried. "You still at it? Have you even slept?"

Novak looked up, "Yeah, just trying to cram for midterms," he mumbled, forcing a smile. "I'll crash in a bit, don't worry about me."

But Benji wasn't convinced. He could see the telltale signs of exhaustion etched into Novak's features, the paleness of his skin, the tremor in his hands as he reached for another textbook.

“Dude, you don't look so good. Maybe you should take a break, get some rest.” Benji said, “Your health is more important than acing these exams."

Novak waved off his concerns, brushing them aside with a dismissive gesture. "I'll be fine, Benji. Just a little tired, that's all. I can't afford to slack off"

“Alright, whatever dude,” Benji said, rolling back over to go back to sleep.

Despite the mounting discomfort, Novak dragged himself to his morning classes, his head pounding and his body aching with every step.

He was freezing when his alarm went off, telling him it was time for class. He slept for maybe two hours, but he felt like he didn’t sleep at all.

Novak pulled himself out of bed, grabbed his sweatshirt, tied back his hair, and grabbed his things.

Breakfast was the last thing on his mind, but the way his head spun and he stumbled into the wall, he knew he had to eat something.

As he sat in his marketing lecture, Novak struggled to focus on the professor's words, his mind clouded by the persistent throbbing in his temples.

The quick breakfast he grabbed had long settled like a rock in his stomach, a queasy sensation churning in the pit of his stomach.

He tried to focus. He did. Now was not the time to not focus. But, he couldn’t make out what the professor was saying. Let alone take notes or retain anything.

He tried to drink some water, take some medicine. Despite his best efforts, Novak's condition continued to deteriorate. Each step became a struggle? his body weighed down by the relentless onslaught of fever and nausea.

As he stumbled through the halls of his college, Novak's world blurred into a hazy fog of discomfort, his mind struggling to grasp the simplest of concepts.

In class, the words of his professors seemed to float in one ear and out the other, lost amidst the cacophony of pain and fatigue that consumed him.

Desperately, he tried to focus, but the fever had dulled his senses, leaving him adrift in a sea of confusion.

Nausea clawed at his stomach. With each passing minute, the urge to just go back to his dorm room and crash for a week was getting stronger. The desire to escape the suffocating confines of the lecture hall and take a cool shower and just sleep this off.

Novak was still holding out on not being sick. He couldn’t be sick. Especially because being sick was brutal on him, more brutal than it was on others. He had always been that way. And it was horrible.

But if he skipped class he couldn’t go to practice. He couldn’t play.

He had to tough it out. Just until midterms were over.

As Novak made it onto the practice field, the weight of his illness hung heavy upon him, each step a struggle against the relentless tide of fatigue and discomfort.

The sun beat down mercilessly, its searing rays only serving to exacerbate the fever that he was sure he had.

Despite the mounting agony, Novak forced a stoic mask onto his face, unwilling to show any sign of weakness to his teammates or coaches.

Novak clenched his jaw, he pushed himself through the grueling drills and punishing workouts, his body screaming in protest with every movement. If he wanted any chance of going professional, he couldn’t afford to lose out on practice or a single game.

As practice dragged on, Novak's strength waned, his limbs growing heavier with each passing minute. Nausea clawed at his insides, threatening to overwhelm him at any moment.

The coach barked out orders, his voice a distant echo in Novak's ears as he fought to keep his focus amidst the haze of fever-induced delirium.

But as the afternoon wore on and the sun dipped below the horizon, Novak was, for lack of better explanation, fucking up royally.

His vision swam, black spots dancing at the edges of his consciousness as he struggled to remain upright. With each passing minute, the world seemed to tilt on its axis, threatening to make him pass out. Or vomit. Something.

Yet still, he refused to quit. With every ounce of strength left within him, Novak pushed himself to the brink. Every bit of energy he could pull was put into finishing out the practice.

He had to finish.

As Novak stumbled back into the dimly lit dorm room, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion, it was evident to Benji that something was seriously wrong.

“Okay. Study, class, practice, now you can sleep, right?” Benji spoke.

Novak shook his head, “Not even close.” He said, setting his bag down by his desk.

Novak grabbed the sweater from the corner of his bed pulling it on.

“I’m… fucking freezing…” Novak mumbled.

Benji watched in concern as Novak sank into his chair, a sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead as he attempted to bury himself in his books. But it was clear that the fever had taken its toll, the lines of fatigue etched into Novak's features betraying his struggle to remain upright.

“That’s the sweater your mom sent you,” Benji said, “Are you sure you’re feeling okay? I think the last time I saw you wear it you were stuck in bed with a migraine…”

Novak waved him off with a weak smile, his voice strained with effort. "I'm fine, just a little under the weather, that's all. Nothing to worry about."

But as Novak attempted to focus on his studies, the fever raged unchecked, a relentless drumbeat of pain and discomfort that refused to be ignored. His vision swam before his eyes, the words on the page blurring into a meaningless jumble of letters and symbols.

With a soft sigh, Novak felt his eyelids growing heavy, his body succumbing to the overwhelming urge to sleep. But before he could succumb to the sweet embrace of unconsciousness, Benji's voice cut through the haze, jolting him awake.

"Gwt in bed,” Benji said. Suddenly his roommate was beside him, shutting his marketing textbook.

“Hey I was studying-“

“Novak, you should really get some rest," Benji started. "You look like you're about to pass out."

Novak's stomach churned violently, a wave of nausea washing over him with sickening intensity.

He buried his face in his hands with a soft whine, shaking his head. He could feel his own fever. Could feel the way his stomach churned. God he felt so sick. When did he start feeling so fucking sick?

Novak's heart hammered in his chest, a relentless drumbeat of panic echoing in his ears as he fought to regain control of his trembling limbs. He forced himself to take slow, steady breaths, attempting to make everything feel less overwhelming.

Novak's hands trembled as he fought to suppress the panic threatening to engulf him. His whole body felt like it was buzzing, like despite the fever there was a live wire running through him.

“Novak..?” Benji asked.

"I'm... I'm fine," Novak managed to choke out, though the words felt hollow and insincere even to his own ears. "Just... need a minute."

But even as he spoke, the nausea intensified, a vicious reminder of his body's betrayal. Not only was he sick, but he was sure he was experiencing… something.

His throat constricted, a bitter taste flooding his mouth as he struggled to hold back the inevitable tide of vomit.

With a desperate lurch, Novak lunged for the trash can by his desk, his stomach convulsing as he retched violently into the bin. Hot tears stung his eyes as he emptied the contents of his stomach once more. He felt his nose running.

“Novak… jesus…,” Benji said, pulling back Novak’s hair.

Novak's chest tightened with each ragged breath, the weight of his sickness and panic pressing down on him like a leaden blanket.

The sensation of Benji's hands on his back, trying to comfort him, only served to exacerbate his distress, sending waves of overwhelming stimulation crashing over him.

"Please... just... stop," Novak gasped between heaves, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of his own suffering. "I can't... I can't..."

But even as he spoke, another wave of nausea crashed over him, leaving him trembling and helpless in its wake. He could feel the panic rising within him, a relentless tide threatening to consume him whole.

There was nothing he could do to stop the vomiting. He was sure his fever was making his panic all the worse. But maybe, maybe that he could fix.

Novak did the only thing he knew to do for the panic. He hugged himself, tried to take breaths between waves of vomiting. He clutched his sleeves in his fists.

Benji pulled his hands away, stepped back. Being a psychology major, Benji could see the panic. The overstimulation.

“I'm sorry, Novak," Benji said, taking another step back “I just... I don't know what to do."

But Novak had no answer to give, no solace to offer in the face of his own torment. The fever made the panic worse. The panic made the nausea worse. The nausea was worse. Novak was going to throw up again.

Benji fetched another trash can, Novak braced himself for the next onslaught, his body wracked with pain and exhaustion.

As Novak's body convulsed with each retch, his fevered mind spiraled further into irrationality, the panic gripping him tighter with each passing moment.

The cycle of sickness and distress seemed never-ending, a relentless onslaught that left him gasping for breath and clinging to the edge of consciousness.

Finally, as the last vestiges of bile dribbled from his lips, Novak slumped back in his chair, his body trembling with exhaustion and his mind reeling from the ordeal.

The room spun around him, the walls closing in as if to swallow him whole, and he fought against the encroaching darkness that threatened to claim him.

Benji hovered nearby, his expression a mixture of concern and helplessness as he watched Novak's struggle.

“You really need to lie down," Benji urged, his voice barely audible over the pounding of Novak's heart in his ears.”Can I touch you to help-“

“No… please, please no…” Novak said. The thought of Benji’s, or anyone’s actually, hands on him make his skin crawl.

Novak forced himself to his feet, his legs trembling beneath him as he staggered towards the safety of his bed. Each step felt like he was walking a mile, his vision swimming and his senses overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of his exhaustion.

But just as he reached the edge of his bed, a wave of dizziness washed over him. He felt his head tilt back, felt like his knees might buckle beneath him. He reached for the first thing he could reach, thankfully the edge of his bed. His fingers dug into the fabric as he fought to keep himself upright.

"Novak, are you okay?" Benji's voice sounded distant, as if coming from the other end of a long tunnel.

But Novak could barely hear him over the roar of his own heartbeat, his world spinning out of control as he teetered on the brink of unconsciousness.

He moved one more time. Everything gave out at once. His vision, his body, his hearing, every sensation disappeared instantly.

He felt his head hit his arm as he landed on what he could only hope was his bed.

As Novak slowly regained consciousness, the world around him swam into focus, his senses gradually coming back to life after what felt like an eternity lost in the void. His head throbbed with a dull ache, a relentless pulse that seemed to echo with each beat of his heart.

Blinking against the harsh glare of the overhead light, Novak turned his head to find Benji sitting nearby, his brow furrowed with concern as he poured over his textbooks.

As their eyes met, Benji's expression softened, relief flooding his features at the sight of Novak awake.

"Hey, man, you're finally up," Benji said, his voice tinged with a mixture of exhaustion and relief. "How are you feeling?"

Novak tried to speak, but his throat was dry and everything hurt.

“Like I got hit by a truck," he managed to rasp out, his words slurred with fatigue.

Benji nodded sympathetically, reaching out to gently squeeze Novak's shoulder.

“You've been out for a while," he explained, his voice gentle. "Like a day and a half or something. You had a really high fever and a pretty bad panic attack. I've been keeping an eye on you, making sure you're okay."

Novak's brow furrowed in confusion, his memory hazy and fragmented. He sat up slowly, pulling a knee to his chest, resting his head in his hand and using his fingers to block out some of the light in the room.

“Here,” Benji said. There was a click of a lamp, then Benji got up and turned off the lights, “That should help…”

I don't... I don't remember much," he admitted, his voice tinged with frustration.

Benji sighed, his expression sympathetic. "Yeah, you were pretty out of it," he said, reaching for a bottle of water on the bedside table and offering it to Novak. "You woke up a couple of times to drink or be sick, but you were mostly out of it."

As Novak took a sip of water, the cool liquid soothing his parched throat, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach.

"I still feel... off," he murmured, his hand instinctively reaching for his head as a sharp pang of pain shot through his temples.

Benji frowned, his concern deepening. "You might be dehydrated from being sick for so long," he suggested, his voice tinged with worry. "Is there anything else we should worry about?”

“My head is just killing me,” Novak said, taking another sip of water before lying back down as the room seemed to tilt a little.

“Migraine maybe,” Benji said, “From being so sick and all.”

Novak nodded weakly, his body still heavy with fatigue and his mind clouded with confusion.

“Still tired… somehow,” Novak mumbled.

“Get some rest,” Benji said, “Trust me. You need plenty for all the makeup midterms you need to do.”

#emeto #sickfic #emeto fic #emeto cw #emeto tw #fever cw #fever tw #emetophilia #novemetober 2023 #fainting tw #fainting cw #panic attack tw #panic attack cw #i really just went ham on this poor boy and im not sorry #novemetober rescheduled

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whumpiary · 2 months

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mate tucker is such a bastard. wtf is wrong with him. i love him so ❤️

Sooooo many things anon 🥰

Have a little thingo from five million years ago I never finished where something New and Different is wrong with him

The hotel room they were put up in last night is actually two rooms with a conjoining door. Cass had hardly believed it when Tucker had come back from check in and handed him his own key card for once.

“Yeah, yeah, Merry Christmas,” Tucker had murmured, rolling his eyes at Cass’ momentary surprise. “Still expect you ready to go at 7.30. I’m just not in the mood to listen to you sleep-talk all night.”

So Cass knows better than to test his luck by being late. The second his alarm sounds he’s up and getting dressed, putting on the suit that Tucker had packed for him, pulling his hair back the way Tucker prefers it when they’re on business. He’s mostly successful in ignoring the fact that it’s Christopher’s fingers he’s echoing as he tries to tie his tie. He ends up giving up on it. Tucker usually re-does it for him anyway.

Tucker is always punctual to the point of frustration. Early for being early, unless he’s intentionally aiming for a power play by being a perfect ten minutes late.

So, when Cass knocks on the conjoining door and pushes it open, he’s expecting to see Tucker already ready to go, leaning impatiently on the bench of the little kitchenette, scrolling through his phone and already annoyed that Cass didn’t predict that when he said 7.30 he actually meant 7:15.

Instead he finds Tucker sitting at the table, halfway through a bowl of the granola he packs himself, staring into space. He’s not even fully dressed yet, tie loosely draped around his neck, vest and jacket laid out on the bed. His hair doesn’t even look moussed.

Cass frowns, taking him in with a cursory glance over, “Shit, you look rough. Big night or something?”

Tucker blinks, looking up, seeming to register Cass’ presence for the first time. “What?”

“Big night?”

Tucker blinks at him again, giving no indication that he’s processing what’s being said to him.

Cass deliberately slows his words down, to the point of being annoying. “Did you go out last night?”

“Go where?”

Cass shrugs, “I dunno. Like to a club or something.”

Tucker blinks again, heavy lidded, before pulling a face.

“We’re on business,” is all he says and that more or less seems to be the close of the conversation.

He shakes his head as though to clear it, eats the last couple bites of his granola and then, in a beautifully un-Tucker-like way, lifts the rims of the bowl to his lips to finish the milk.

Cass stands stupidly in the doorway between their rooms, watching. He’s not entirely sure what he’s meant to do here.

“Did I get the wrong time or something?”

“Tucker?”

“I’m fine,” Tucker says, almost automated. Then he blinks, looking up, seeming to register Cass’ presence for the first time. “What did you say?”

Cass jerks a thumb over his shoulder, “It’s 7.30. Don’t we have to go soon?”

“Go where?”

Cass frowns for a moment, blinking a little, “The conference thing?”

Tucker looks over Cass’ shoulder to where he’s pointing, like he’s trying to see through the wall. He sways in his seat. Seems to forget to answer.

“Tuck? You good?”

“What?” he says, an irritated blink as he focuses back on Cass’ face. He waves a hand dismissively. “Yeah, you look fine. I said you look fine.”

Cass frowns, on tilt. It’s not usually him who’s the one keeping track of the conversation. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Why do you keep asking me that?”

“Because you’re like three different shades of green and I feel like I’m in Freaky fuckin’ Frida-”

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah so you keep saying, but you don’t look-“

“I’m fine, Ace. Shut up,” Tucker snaps as he stands. And then, as if to directly counter what he’s just said, sways for a second. He presses thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. Sniffs. “Let’s jus’…” He takes a step forward and his foot seems to go straight through the carpet. “Oh fuck.“

His head hits the table on his way down to the floor.

#tucker #cassius #fainting cw

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measureyourlifeincake · 5 days

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someone straight-up passed out in front of my register (she was on line at the register across from mine) and it was so weird bc like... i just had to keep working??? i mean, like five different people called 911 immediately and it's not like i couldve done anything for her but its still weird that my only course of action was to move to another register (bc, yknow, someone was on the floor in front of my register) and keep ringing up customers as we waited for the ambulance to arrive and as the emts were showing up and tending to her and wheeling her away on a gurney

and like. she was conscious when she left (apparently she was only unconscious for a moment. which is what normally happens when people faint) and one of my bosses told me what happened and she's probably fine now but i will most likely never know for sure and. idk. its just weird. i feel weird about it.

#also this happened like a half hour into my shift so like #just a great way to start the day #cashier confessional #life of bea #medical cw #fainting cw #uhh ask to tag i feel like im missing some content warnings here

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starsallalight · 6 months

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@amantesmultorum : Rosamund & Marcel

Groaning softly as the sound of voices drew her back to the waking world, Rosamund all the same felt dizzy. Breathless. And she couldn't remember why.

"Mummy?" She whimpered, when she was able to pick it her mother's voice.

Immediately, Charlotte was stepping away from where she stood in the doorway with the court physician and was at her daughter's side. "Shh, darling. It's all right."

"What happened?" The young woman asked, looking around and realizing she was in her palace bedroom. "How did I get here? The last thing I remember, I was in the garden with Ella, helping her plant her flowers."

Biting her lip, Charlotte looked over her shoulder, and following her gaze, Rosamund's eyes widened once more. It all came back. The conversation she and Ella had had while they worked on the flowers. The vulnerability and grief she had really only addressed then. Then, as they were heading back, that figure coming toward them. She'd thought she'd fallen asleep. Or gone mad. Even when she reached out and touched his cheek, she didn't really know if it was a dream or a hallucination. She'd looked back at Ella and Kit, and then everything went black...

"It's really you..." Rosamund gasped, trying to sit up and reach out for him.

#➳ 𝑎𝑢𝑟𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑠 & 𝑠𝑎𝑑 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑒 ➳ ; 𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑎𝑚𝑢𝑛𝑑 ; ❨tales❩#V; Tried To Hold This Back #Marcel #amantesmultorum #Fainting Cw

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britneyshakespeare · 10 months

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Funny. I was thinking just yesterday about how it had been awhile (almost a year) since I had a good old fashioned fainting spell. And the last time I had one I didn't even think I was dying like a lot of other times I've had them in the past. Well then last night (tonight? Today?) between 2 and 3 in the morning I went to the bathroom, washed my hands, was thinking "man this feels like so much effort I'm so tired" when I turned around to dry them, and then I realized I was on the floor somehow in the fight of my life with the perception of consciousness again.

#i can't be certain how many times i lost consciousness bc i tried to stay on the floor after that #ive learned the hard way not to try to get up once you're down until you're really sure it's over #it's not just gonna be once. i stay in limbo for well. who knows how long!#literally who knows. not me. i was the one unable to hold onto waking #tales from diana #fainting cw #health cw #luckily. whenever it was i first realized i was fainting i had the instinct to sit on the ground #not comfortably. but when i realized what was happening i noticed i was facing the closet leaning my back on the sink #so i mitigated a possible concussion #last time i had one in the middle of the night like this by myself (5ish years ago) i didn't tell my doctor till my next physical #and she was like 'why didnt you come? you couldve had a concussion' and i was freaked out by that #my head hurts a little but not much so i think injury-wise im probably ok #but i should go to the hospital or something today... now that i know i have hashimoto's disease #im wondering if that was some kind of thyroid attack or smth #and they weren't gonna schedule me to see an endocrinologist till DECEMBER #yeah i cried a little when i woke up this morning about it #im just so sad. i can't stop suffering i can't stop being in pain #ruins everything. i was gonna see my family today #i have so many things i wanna do but i can't even dry my hands in the middle of the night anymore

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emeto-secret-agent · 2 years

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Could you do 3. for Florian, please?

If this is too specific you don't have to worry, it's more of an idea, but could you consider a scene where he vomits while laying down, unconscious or semi-uncouscious/delirious? And someone has to tilt his head, or get him properly seated so he doesn't choke.

I've been reading some of your stories lately and I must say, even if i'm not too into copro I've been enjoying them a lot ( ˶'-'˶) ﾃﾚﾘｳﾗ Thanks for considering!

Ohh thank you so much! (*´∀`*) I'm really happy that you can still enjoy my fics, even if you aren't even into it, this must be one of the best compliments I've ever gotten <3

I've initially planned shorter fics for novemetober but, well, I had too much fun with this one, and maybe went a little overboard xd But I hope you'll like it~!

@monthofsick

Warning: Fainting and choking

Novemetober Day 3 - Out of it

Florian had, to say the least, a terrible day. He knew he shouldn’t have gotten out of bed that morning, but a crown prince had his duty and some of the matters couldn’t wait. Well not like he had that much excitement to hear about some power-hungry earl’s compliment regarding his already huge estate, but he needed to think about when he would become the king. He needs to be ready and experienced in every situation by then.

But still, today morning every joint in his body ached, his head throbbed with the familiar sensation of an oncoming fever, and just overall, didn’t feel well. Did he delay his meetings because of this? Of course not. That would’ve been a too-responsible thing to do. He pushed the growing uneasiness of his stomach deep inside his mind, only letting the urgent tasks into his thoughts. Didn’t even bother with calling for Celia, he was going to deal with that if it became inevitable. And did he suffer the consequences.

‘Your Highness! Your Highness, are you still alive?’

What a great thing to wake up in the middle of a meeting. If he wasn’t so dizzy, Florian surely would’ve asked back if they really want him dead that bad. But it was hard to form clear sentences, the ceiling was dangerously swaying over him and his head was throbbing. He must’ve hit it while falling. At least the audience was cut short as the prince was escorted back to his chamber while a little dozen servants rushed around him.

It was quickly stated that he was running a fever and the prince was sentenced to bed rest. Well, at least it only took him one fainting to get back in here. It could’ve been worse. After Florian finally managed to send everyone away and request for Celia – because in the panic they forgot to inform her – he could lay back a little. Gosh, his head really did hurt. Maybe he should ask Celia to look at it, just to ensure he didn’t suffer any serious injury from the fall. And maybe ask for some painkillers too. His whole body was throbbing, but nothing as painful as his middle. It took him a few minutes to fully realize what was wrong, but when he did, Florian softly cursed under his breath.

The moment Celia stepped into Florian’s bedroom, the prince rushed past her with a hand clapped over his mouth. This really wasn’t his day.

At least he made it to the toilet. That counts as a win right? Even if he had to lose his breakfast and some part of yesterday’s dinner. It’s gonna be fine.

‘Your Highness, are you okay?’

‘Could’ve been better…’

Celia softly sighed as she kneeled beside him as another wave of vomit rushed out of him without any warning. It burned his airway and eyes, the sour smell filling the room faster than he could spit out the puke and salvia string hanging from his lip. His stomach turned and churned, loudly gurgling under the arm he wrapped around his middle. Not even Celia’s gentle rubbing helped in his situation as another burp came out, which was followed by another mouthful.

‘It’s alright, it’s alright.’ pulled Celia back his hair back but couldn’t save some strands from the forceful wave. She’s going to have to clean that up later. ‘Don’t hold back, it’s just gonna hurt more.’

‘’m not…’ choked Florian on some thick chunks. ‘It keeps coming…’

‘It’s going to be fine. You’re going to be fine. It’s going to end soon.’

Florian was grateful for her soft words, even if his harsh gagging suppressed most of it. Like his body tried to reject everything he ate in the last two months, not leaving time to either breathe or lean back a little. The prince’s knuckles turned white he vomited back another thick wave of his dinner. He grimaced as yesterday’s vegetables took form in front of his eyes in the mess below him. But not even having time to take a deep breath he was again over the toilet, pushing everything out of his upset stomach.

He must’ve blacked out a little, because when he came to, Celia was supporting his back and was hitting it to help him cough up the chunks stuck in his throat. There was puke dripping from his nose too, coating his chin and slowly going down on his throat. Celia was quick to wipe everything down as Florian leaned forward with a harsh cough, fighting for his own life and even the girl sounded worried.

‘Deep breaths Florian, deep breaths.’

He was trying, really, but couldn’t inform Celia about it as Florian only could look at him wheezing before immediately turning back to the chamber and only more vomit came out of him instead of words. It was getting scary and the room began dangerously swaying again as the prince couldn’t take a breath. Florian leaned into Celia, the girl holding him with strong hands as he kept burping up more.

‘’t’s not stopping…’

‘It will, you just have to let it out.’ Celia tried to sound encouraging, but she haven’t seen him puke this much before. And that was something as she have already spent enough time next to Florian.

Florian harshly coughed trying to clear his airways, his whole body shaking with the brute force. Every little bit of air he managed to get into his lungs felt like a little blessing, but it didn’t help much with the dizziness. So Florian just stayed like that, head hanging over the chamber, kneeling on the hard stone but not even fully noticing it as the sound of blood throbbing in his ears muted everything else out. It was only him and his terrible nausea…

‘Florian? Florian, wake up!’

‘Huh…?’

Gosh, he felt so gross… The taste of vomit still sitting on his lips, his head throbbed and his mouth was painfully dry. Not to mention the colorful shapes dancing in front of his eyes.

‘Florian!’

‘Ouch.’

Somebody slapped him. Hard.

‘Wake up!’

‘’m up! I’m up, I swear!’

‘Oh thank god…’

The girl’s concerned look slowly came into focus and for a moment Florian was happy to see such a kind face. Then his cheeks started to hurt.

‘Gosh, what even was that…?’

‘I’m sorry, but you passed out. Your Highness.’

‘It’s… alright. I think.’

He was too tired to argue and Celia didn’t even get taken back. She did what she needed to do and Florian couldn’t do anything about it, just rub his painful cheeks. She hit harder than he’d have thought and somehow Florian was impressed under the layers of nausea.

‘Do you still feel like vomiting?’

‘Not… Not really?’

‘That sounded more of a question than an answer, but I’ll take it.’ nodded the maid as she helped him to sit up. ‘Are still feeling dizzy?’

‘Mhm…’ well the room still swayed a little when he turned his head if that counted. And his legs still felt weak.

‘It’s fine. You’re going to feel better, we just need to take you to bed. You Highness.’

‘Alright…’ not that he had that much strength to argue. But maybe a little bit of a laying down really wouldn’t hurt. The nausea still lingered in the pit of his stomach, but… it’s going to be alright. Maybe.

‘Here, lean on me.’

Florian tried his best to stay upright and not to put all his weight on the girl, but it was a harder task than it seemed. His knees were threatening him with collapsing every other step and the swaying room made his nausea spike up again so he had to close his eyes. It was like he couldn’t escape this dizzy hell he was trapped in, his hardly moving limbs pulling him back again and again. Florian haven’t even noticed that they reached the bed until he was gently sat down on the covers. Celia’s cold fingers brushed a few sticky and dirty strands out of his face and cupped his cheeks for a moment before moving up to his temple. Florian felt his stomach turn again when Celia’s soft lips rested on his hot skin for a moment.

‘We need to get your fever down. Do you think you can drink a little?’

‘I’m… really not sure about that.’

Honestly, just even the thought of something going down his throat made him want to gag. He needed to drink something, but his stomach just angrily churned under his hand. God, it was starting to hurt again… Salvia pooled in his mouth as the prince tried to swallow it down with a straight face and not start dry heaving again.

‘Just a few sips. Then we’ll see how’s your tummy feeling, alright? Your Highness.’

Florian couldn’t ignore how hard it became for Celia not to forget his honorifics. Not like that he minded that much, but… It was a little weird. A good kind of weird. No, he really couldn’t think straight right now.

‘Alright…’

Florian tried to ignore his upset stomach’s loud protest as Celia hurried out a little to make him a little amount of herbal tea. Something for his stomach and fever. But the thought that he was going to have to swallow something made him lain forward and gag over his lap. Florian pressed his hand on his mouth and silently shake his head. Not again.

Sadly for nature, it didn’t matter that he was a crown prince, if something wanted to come out of him, then something will come out of him. And he had no choice. Florian started to dry heave, body lunching forward and hugging his stomach with both hands. His throat burned with bile and narrowed up as his stomach tried to push everything out in waves but only wet burps coming up yet. He needed to make a run for the bathroom.

Again, a harder task than it seemed. Florian could manage to stand up, pushing himself up on the bed and holding into the tall bedpost for support, but his steps became more unsteady with each passing moment. He needed to hurry, but his body was fighting against him. Tears started to gather in his eyes as another forceful gag shook his whole body and the prince fall onto his knees. The floor was hard against his weak legs, barely having enough strength to break the fall. He needed to stay conscious, he needed to…

Hot vomit rushed out of his mouth, splashing right in front of him, coating his shirt and shaking arms but Florian haven’t even registered it. Everything felt like a distant and hazy dream, one that he won’t remember after waking, but one that will leave him gasping and in a cold sweat. The prince hasn’t felt his arms give up as he fell forward into the cold stone, but the hot puke hasn’t stopped flowing from his mouth.

Celia could’ve sworn she heard some weird thump noise. Like something fell off. But nothing could’ve been it. She stayed still for a little, trying to make out another sound that would explain the faint noise she have heard, but nothing. So she just shrugged and turned back to her little herbs. She needed to hurry up for Florian, didn’t want to leave him alone for too long. Poor boy seemed really out of it and Celia wished she could just cradle him and comfort him back to health. But sadly it didn’t work like that.

‘Your Highness, are you still feeling alright?’

She just asked it out of habit, not wanting to let too much quiet stand beside them. He wanted to hear his pained but still soft voice, but this time she didn’t get an answer.

‘Your Highness?’

Nothing. Celia started to feel a little nervous as she turned back but couldn’t see Florian’s figure in the other room. He should’ve been there though. She left him sitting on the bed. She should’ve been able to see him from there.

‘Florian? Are you okay?’

Celia whipped her hands into her skirt before slowly making her way back into the bedroom. Something was not right. The prince didn’t answer her and she couldn’t even hear his soft snoring that signaled to her that he fall asleep. There was only quietness in the room. Quietness, besides the soft choking noise coming from the floor.

‘Florian!’

She was next to the unconscious boy in a matter of seconds and not minding the growing puddle on the floor, kneeled beside him, quickly turning his limp body to the side. More chunky vomit fall out of his mouth and joined to the mess underneath them. Celia’s heart almost jumped out of her chest as she took Florian’s head into her lap and with a few hard hits on his back, tried to make him cough up everything he could’ve swallowed. She didn’t know how long he was laying here, face into his own vomit, making himself drown in it.

For a second Celia lost every calmness she ever had. For a second Florian didn’t take a breath as yellow puke dripped down his chin and from his nose. For a second the whole world seemed to stop.

Then a harsh cough shook Florian’s body as it was fighting for some air to breathe in and Celia could feel the tears burning in her eyes. She quickly pulled back his hair as Florian coughed up more mouthfuls right into her skirt, but it didn’t even matter, only that he was getting everything out of his system and that he was breathing.

‘I’m sorry Florian, I’ll be more careful…’ whispered Celia to the still unconscious boy in a shaking voice as she whipped his face off with her shirt. ‘I’ll take more care of you, I promise.’

The prince was still heavily panting in her lap but Celia didn't dare to move him from his side for fear that a new round of vomiting could always come back. So they stayed on the floor like this until the puke dried to the floor and to their skin and until Florian’s eyes shakingly opened up again, looking around in confusion. It was only then that Celia could let herself take a deep breath and quickly press a kiss on Florian’s hot forehead, before helping him back to the bed and not leaving his side the whole day. Not until his fever and stomach calmed again and the maid fell asleep in exhaustion next to Florian’s bed, hand in hand.

#novemetober 2022 #emeto #emetophilia #fainting cw #choking cw

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splendidissimus · 7 months

Text

August 1998 - Invalid

((Content warning: fainting, head trauma / concussion, memory problems, loss of autonomy))

((Promptspiration: @whumptober 2023: day 1: But now this room is spinning while I’m trying just to fill in all the gaps. / Swooning / "How many fingers am I holding up?" ))

Genre: whump / sickfic

Romance level: negligible

Angst level: 2/5

Draco's headspace: denial

((words: ~1500))

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

Draco opened his eyes to Theo's scared face swimming blearily above him; he frowned and squeezed his eyes shut a couple times to try to clear it. "What…"

Theo let out a heavy breath. "Thank Merlin, you're okay."

Theo held his arm to try to help him up, but Draco shook it to try to get him off and sit up on his own. But that made waves of pain pulse out of the back of his head and he held it, rolling over with a groan. He meant to curl up but instead discovered that he was on the stairs, or halfway on the stairs, anyway. His head and shoulders were on the bottom step and the rest of him sprawled out in the hall. "What did you do to me?"

"Draco, you fell down the stairs." Theo's hands settled on his shoulders and pulled him up to sit on his knees beside him.

"I don't…" Stairs? Why?

"I think you fainted." He pulled up his arm with the sleeve pushed back to show the heart monitor cuff, and how its light was fluttering erratically.

He frowned at it, and let go of his aching head to turn it off without a comment. He didn't feel like looking at that. He was sure it was right, but he didn't really feel it, and if his heart was beating like that he would rather be able to continue to ignore it. If he started feeling it then he would focus on it and not be able to feel anything else.

He absently held his head again and looked up. "Where was I…?"

"What?" Theo leaned around to look at his face with a frown. "Where were you going? Do you not remember? Draco—"

Shit, he shouldn't have said that. "'Course I do," he bristled defensively, and tried not to think about the fact that he didn't. Bed, or… library? Library made sense, it seemed too bright for bed. Or… shit, had they been coming downstairs? Was it morning?

"Here, let's go sit down." Theo stood and held his arm to help him up.

"Fuck!" he snapped, semiconscious fear sublimating into frustration, and shoved his hands away. "Just get off me!" He shoved himself up to get back to his feet on his own, but his head suddenly swooped, and he overbalanced to his side and fell back to his knees. He gripped his aching head, doubling over his knees with a wordless groan.

"Right, I'm going to get your mum."

He jerked his head up to glare, with a hiss of pain. "Don't you dare!"

"Well then what am I supposed to do?" Now he was letting out frustration as well. "You can't get up and you won't let me help you, so what, just let you sit there on the floor?"

"Just shove off! I'm eighteen years old, I don't need a nanny!"

"Except you just fainted and fell down the stairs when I was two steps ahead of you, so a nanny isn't even enough! As far as I can tell you need someone to actively hold your damn hand."

"Go to hell!"

He visibly made an effort to control himself and say something productive instead of just retaliating. "Do you want to move your room down here so you don't have to take the stairs?"

"I said go to hell!"

Theo threw up his hands. "Then what do you want to do?"

"I don't want to have to worry about this!" He didn't mean to say that, but he couldn't take it back. He grabbed his hair with both hands and bent over again.

In a couple seconds, Theo came down and sat on the step beside him, and put his arm over his shoulders.

"Leave me alone," Draco muttered.

"No." He rubbed his back silently. Draco didn't try to make him stop. In a few minutes, he closed his eyes and let it relax him.

"My head really hurts," he admitted eventually.

"Okay." Theo stood up after a second and grabbed one of his hands out of his hair, and pulled on it. "Let's go lay in your window or whatever."

"I can get up," he protested. "I just moved too fast." He tried to take his hand back, but Theo was insistent on holding it anyway, and he gave up rather than fight about it. It took some effort to get back to his feet, and he still stumbled a little, but it was basically fine. He was sure Theo thought he really helped; let him have that.

When he looked up, Theo was still looking at him with close concern. "Do you actually remember where you were going?"

Draco glanced around the hall once, looking for the answer; it was the quality of the light coming through the front windows that told the story, and it fell into place. "We were coming downstairs," he said confidently. "I just got up."

He knew that was the wrong answer by the way Theo studied his face, and he looked away, taking his hand back.

Theo ducked into his line of sight again, trying to look into his face, and held up his hand. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Draco shot him an annoyed frown. "I'm not blind." Theo waved his fingers, and he reached out to push his hand down, answering only to make him stop. "Three."

"Okay." Theo dropped his hand. "I got here an hour ago. You didn't go to bed last night; I'd just got you to agree to try to sleep."

He looked away again. "Right." That sounded familiar, now that he said it. Or he told himself it did, anyway.

Theo grabbed his arm again and led him into the parlour. Like he thought he'd fall again if he let him walk on his own. Halfway there, Draco couldn't stand it anymore and yanked his arm away. "I'm not a child."

Theo looked at him silently, and Draco looked away after a second.

In the parlour, Draco looked at his bay window seat, but it seemed too bright, and he dropped down on a sofa instead. After a moment, he lay down completely and laid his arm over his eyes. Better.

"Stay there a minute," Theo said. "I'll get something for your head."

"Just give me a potion."

"You know I can't. Staying off all the potions isn't some test you have to pass and you can cheat on, it's meant to actually be for your health. Your mum would kill me if I did anything to undermine that."

He made an annoyed sound but didn't look. His head hurt too much to look.

He lost track of the passage of time until Theo was back, and draping a sheet over him. He lifted his arm off his eyes when he realised what that was — it was August, he should be plenty warm — but the concentration on Theo's face stopped him and he covered his eyes again. And it didn't feel bad…

"Here." He felt or heard Theo sitting on the arm of the sofa above his head, then something ice cold pressed against his forehead. He gasped at the initial touch, and then took over holding it himself.

"When you can't take the potions, you have to at least let me walk behind you," Theo said. "In case you faint again, or have a fall."

"I don't need that." He ran the cold whatever-it-was — it felt like a frozen bar of soap, which was weird of him — over his forehead slowly.

"Draco…"

He shook his head. "Forget it."

"Draco." Theo ran his fingers through his hair, and he wanted to be offended at the liberties taken, but it felt nice. "You're ill."

"Not that—"

"Yes that ill," he interrupted quietly. "When you're off the potions that are keeping your heart under control, you're too sick to walk up a flight of stairs on your own." He picked up Draco's other hand and turned on the heart monitor. Draco refused to open his eyes to see it. "I think ignoring it could get you... hurt."

Draco silently moved the cold thing under his head, so it was against the back of his head where it really ached, and that was a relief. "It's fine."

"How many fingers was I holding up before?"

"Four. What's that meant to prove, I can count?"

Theo silently ran his fingers through his hair.

"I'm not an invalid," he asserted. It sounded firm, convincing, believable, to his own ears. But Theo's silence was louder than a response, and he had to counter it. "I'm not."

"When you have your potions."

He clenched his hand into a helpless fist.

"I'll stay and help you."

"I don't want help."

"I know." He brushed back Draco's hair. "But I can't make you not need it."