#emeto tw!!! there is talk about vomit!!!!

[sneezydarliing]

Finally got around to reading s/ix of cr/ows and I'm loving all of the whump

#k/az almosy drowning?? hello??? #emeto tw!!! there is talk about vomit!!!! #k/az mentions that he swallowed various thinga for the heist #and not only did he have to vomit them up whne he needed bur also every other hour before that #oughhhh.... thoughts #usually not an emeto person but #not snz #imagine.. he catches a miserable cold on the way home... all the mentl and physcial strain and being wet and cold for so long....... #also. he faints. loved that

[bellysoupset]

Long build up, but with emeto pay-off. TW: implied smut. Sugary dripping romance. Finally the lukebell fix.

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Lucas had nearly dropped his phone outside of the balcony when he got Bella's text.

She had gone out of her way to avoid him ever since that horrible "talk", where she had boldly declared that she could and would figure a way of stop loving him. The incident where he took her home hadn't changed this one bit and nearly two whole months after, Luke was still not over it.

So to get a text from her was monumental, to say the least.

Bells: We need to talk.

Ominous as hell, but he would take what he could get. He didn't have it in him to even pretend he hadn't been staring at her contact wishing it would light up, instead he was immediately calling her back.

She picked up on the third ring.

"Oh that was fast."

"Hi," Lucas felt a smile break across his face as he heard her voice. Damn he missed her, "is everything alright?"

"Yes, yeah... How are you?"

He frowned at the small talk, but played along, leaning back against the rail of his balcony, "bored out of my mind, missing you," Luke answered truthfully, "what about you?"

"Lucas..." she sighed, not one bit amused by his declaration. He closed his eyes, loving the sound of her voice even if she sounded annoyed.

"Bella, why do we need to talk? Are you alright?"

"My graduation is Friday night," she told him and he opened a big smile.

"I know, baby, summa cum laude. I'm so proud of you," he said, because he'd have to be crazy to forget. Her academic achievements were her pride and honor, seeing as she was a full ride scholarship student, and so they were also his pride and honor.

He heard her breath catch, then her clearing her throat, "well, yeah... Anyway, the party is Friday and my mom is coming and I didn't- I didn't tell her we broke up."

Lucas frowned, confused, "why not?"

"She'd make a big deal out of it and then make my whole graduation about you and our breakup and I didn't want that. It's my graduation, goddammit," she sounded very annoyed by the thought and even though he should feel insulted, Lucas couldn't help but smile.

"Alright, thanks for the heads-"

"I need you to come," Bella interrupted him, "as my date, I mean. To the party."

"Oh," he raised his eyebrows, "are you sure?"

"Yes, we're both adults, we can play along for one night, right?" it sounded like she had rehearsed this bit. Lucas smiled.

"Of course, yeah... Do I need to match?" he was so excited it was embarrassing and it was showing in his voice as it went up a note and butterflies filled his stomach.

"Just put on your deep blue suit," her voice too sounded all weird, strangled, "meet my mom at the Uni's grand amphitheater, Friday at 7 PM, then we'll ride together to the party."

"Alright."

"...Thanks, Luke."

"Anything, Bells," he swore, "and congratulations, you deserve this more than anyone."

"Thanks," her voice came out even more choked up than before, breaking as she said, "I have to go. See you Friday, don't- Don't be late."

****

By the time Friday rolled up, Lucas had worked himself up into a mess of nerves. Completely unlike him, he skipped practice that day, which had immediately cued his friends on sending him a string of worried texts.

He had gone out for breakfast, but given up eating halfway through his donut, as he felt a weird twinge in his belly. His hands were sweaty as hell, as if he'd see Bella in an hour, not in ten.

When he did, finally, pull up to the amphitheater, Luke was sure he was going to vomit. His heart was hammering away. He had brought her flowers, a bouquet of purple tulips, wrapped in black tissue paper. Something Bella would actually like, unlike the horrid ring that had destroyed their relationship.

Bella's mom, Marisa, was waiting for him and she waved, smiling brightly. Bell definitely hadn't told her what had happened.

"Hi Lucas," she tiptoed to kiss his cheek, fixing his tuxedo lapels, "you look so handsome."

"You look great too, Marisa," he smiled back. He loved the woman, way more than he liked his actual family. It was a pity that this would go up in flames once Bella actually told her about the break up, "let's go in? Is Bell already inside?"

"Trembling like a leaf," Marisa agreed, with a fond smile, "she was worried you would be late."

"Never," he rolled his eyes, offering her his arm and guiding her inside, along with all the other parents and guests.

They managed a great seat, just on the third row and Marisa looked around in pure awe, "this is such a good university," she said, poking his arm, "my Isa is a brilliant girl."

"She is," he agreed, using the program to fan himself. He felt overly warm and sticky, "did she tell you she's graduating with the highest honors?"

Bella's mom shook her head, so Lucas launched himself at a detailed explanation of what a summa cum laude meant and how fucking proud she should be of her daughter. The entire time the woman wouldn't stop smiling at him, in that fond manner that made him want to crumple and tell her this was all a farse.

"You love her very much, I can hear it in your voice."

"I do," he nodded, looking away, "of course I do- And they're about to start."

The ceremony felt like it went on for forever. Despite graduating with honors Bella didn't do the speech, she wasn't the type. In fact, Luke couldn't help but snort as he saw Bella walk on stage, looking pale as hell even under the makeup.

Her eyes searched the audience and then she found them and opened a little relieved smile, so he winked back at her, raising both thumbs up as she waited for her turn.

They clapped and whistled as she got her degree, blushing like hell and looking away from them with a fond headshake.

The party was outside of the university grounds, in a big ballroom decorated just for the math and technology students. During the car ride, Marisa wouldn't let either of them speak, rattling non stop while sitting in the backseat and Lucas was glad for it, because if he started speaking he was sure he'd give them away.

His chest hurt just from looking at her. Instead he moved a hand from the steering wheel, planting it on her knee and Bella's whole face went up in flames, but she didn't push it off, intertwining their fingers and answering her mother.

The entire time she had her black graduation gown on, so Lucas felt like air had been stolen from him when Bella did jump off the car and stripped it, revealing the midnight blue dress under.

His mouth hung open and Marisa let out a snicker, poking his ribs, "Cierra la boca antes de que entren las moscas, hijo," she smiled and Lucas blushed, snapping his mouth shut. After four years, he knew enough spanish to understand at least that.

"You look amazing..." he said dreamily and Bella didn't bother hiding her smile, whole face lighting up.

"You think?"

"Yeah, breathtaking," and the butterflies were back with vengeance, as his eyes dragged down her body, "let's- Let's go in?"

He was the perfect gentleman. He pulled Bella for the first waltz, then invited her mother and grabbed all of them drinks, even though he couldn't find it in him to drink the champagne. His eyes kept drifting off to Bells and the way her ginger curls framed her face, all pulled up in a complicated knot on the base of her nape.

"You're staring," she smiled, after some older fella invited her mother to dance, causing both Bella and Luke to grin in an amused manner.

"I am," he shrugged, "you're... So beautiful. What an idiot I was."

Her cheeks never quite ceased to be pink, but they got redder again, "Lucas..."

'Let's dance," he said, standing up and ignoring as the butterflies bat around his stomach, "one dance."

"We already danced," but her eyes were alight with mirth. He knew she wanted to as much as he did.

"One dance, baby," he took her hand in his, kissing the knuckles and she rolled her eyes, swooning.

"Fine, one dance."

Unlike the first one, that had been out of obligation, this one he felt like himself. One hand moving to the small of her back, the other one holding her hand in his. He leaned in, pressed his temple to hers and Bella let out a sigh.

"You can't do this to me."

"I'm not doing anything," Lucas whispered back, pulling her around the ballroom.

"Wooing me," she scoffed, breath hot against his cheek, sending a shiver down his spine, "like it's easy."

"Loving you is easy," he planted his lips on her temple, kissing over her brow. He twirled her around and Bella's blue dress shimmered, before she was back against him, arms wrapping around his neck.

"And if I take you back?" she whispered, "will it still be easy?"

"Not all the time," he admitted, even if he wanted to say yes. He wanted her back, but not lying to her, "but I'm willing to work through it. Fight for you."

She snorted, tugging on the collar of his tux, "Lucas-"

"I don't think it's going to pass, Bell," he admitted, pulling back to look her in the eye, "not for me."

"Do you mean that?" her voice was all small and frail. He nodded.

"It's not going to pass. It's incurable."

She let out a breathy, watery chuckle and then tugged at the lapels of his tux, pulling him in for a kiss, "I know," Bella whispered against his mouth, "I think it's terminal."

He had missed kissing her. More than anything. Lucas stopped swaying to the music and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her up and kissing her harder, which caused her to bite his bottom lip, nose brushing against his.

"I love you," she whispered, in between kisses, smiling, "I love you still."

He wanted to bolt with her, but they couldn't, not yet. Instead he wrapped her up, whispering the same in her ear and continued the dance, whole body crashing as he let out a breath he had been holding for months now.

****

"I love your dress," Lucas panted, as they stumbled back into his apartment after dropping her mom at the hotel, his hands trailing down her body and bunching up the fabric, "get out of it."

She giggled, turning around and slamming the door shut with both hands, offering up her back for him to unzip it. She was only wearing black lacy panties under it and he felt dizzy with how much he wanted her.

He trailed his hand up her freckled back, removed the pins from her hair and let down the mane of auburn curls, smiling widely, "you're a fucking vision."

"Shut up," Bella rolled her eyes, turning around and moving her hands straight to his belt, kissing him hungrily, "start undressing. "

******

He woke up alone in bed, much to Lucas' dismay.

No sign of Bella and his head was throbbing like hell, even though he hadn't drunk alcohol at all the previous night. It it wasn't for the marks all over him, the path of hickeys she had left on his chest and thighs, he'd have thought he had dreamed of her.

Then he heard a clank in the kitchen and his heart sped up all over again.

Lucas got up, only to groan. His stomach hurt, all tender as he gingerly put on his boxer briefs. By now he no longer thought the constant nausea were butterflies. He sighed, this was so not the time to get sick. He'd just have to suck it up, he was not about to ruin this perfect morning.

Bella was leaning over the stove, wearing one of his shirts and grilling bacon, so he wrapped his arms around her, kissing her neck, "morning."

"Morning," she smiled, turning her face to kiss him. The fact that he could taste bacon in her tongue made him cringe, but still he kissed her back before pulling away.

Immediately she let out a whine at the loss of contact. He leaned against the dry part of the sink, filling a mug with coffee, but just a sniff of it was enough to make his stomach churn even worse, so he settled for simply holding it in his hand, appreciating the warmth.

"My mom texted, she wants us to go out for lunch," Bella smiled at him, "in two hours, so we probably shouldn't overdo with breakfast."

She was so smiley, he couldn't help but smile back. Or try, it looked more like a grimace.

"I think I'm gonna skip it," Luke said slowly, picking his words carefully as he watched her smile vanish, "it's not that I don't want to, but-"

"But?" she pouted, raising an eyebrow, "you already had plans...?"

He winced at the mere implication and shook his head, "no, I'm just not feeling too hot..."

Bella sighed deeply, removing the bacon from the stove and planting them all over a plate, before putting the frying pan inside the sink and turning on the cold water. A cloud of greasy smoke raised and Lucas moved away from it instinctively, feeling his belly gurgle in pure disgust.

"Bella, say something."

"You said you'd work for it," she scoffed, hands on her hips, "like actually put in an effort."

"I know, I don't- I'll go. Let me just get a shower, alright?"

Now the wrinkle was even deeper between her eyebrows, "so you were lying about not feeling well?"

"I wasn't, Bella, c'mon," he pinched his nose bridge and she scoffed.

"What, Lucas?"

"Bella," he shook his head and then felt a cramp on his side that made his stomach turn even more. His mouth filled up with bitter tasting spit, "I wasn't lying."

"But now you're magically better!" it was clear they'd have to work over these issues, the distrust and quickness to anger, which they had managed to leave behind in their first year of dating were back in full force. The realization that he had set them back four years turned his stomach even more.

"I'm not -" he cringed as a burp snuck up on him and Lucas pressed his hand to his mouth, "shit."

Bella looked taken back by the sudden display and then concern washed over her features, "Luke?"

He couldn't answer. The kitchen smelt so much like bacon and his belly hurt, pulsing with pain and sloshing uncomfortably. He gagged, then turned around quickly, facing the sink just in time for the one glass of champagne he had had last night to make a reappearance, along with stomach acid, all over the frying pan.

"Oh my, Lucas!" Bella quickly moved forward, holding his elbow with one hand, the other in the middle of his back, "what the fuck, are you hungover?"

"Didn't drink," he shook his head, gagging again, "I- I don't know..."

"Is this a bug?" she frowned, worry dripping from her words, "baby, sit down... Sit down."

"No," Lucas white knuckled the sink's granite, "feel sick."

She rubbed his back gently, fingers going up to comb the hair at his nape, "breathe, Luke..."

He belched again, wincing as it seemed to come from the deepest part of his stomach, pain echoing all over, "my stomach really fucking hurts."

"Was it something you ate?" Bella's hand sneaked to his naked stomach, touching around, "Luke?"

"Don't think so...Stop- Stop touching me, it hurts..." he attempted to straighten up and pushed away from the sink, wrapping an arm protectively around his stomach and staggering to the living room. Bella followed suit, hands hovering as if she could actually catch him in case he collapsed.

He sat down on the couch, folding in half with a groan, "I think it's a bug," Lucas said and Bella circled the couch, crouching down in front of him.

"How do you know?" she frowned, cupping his cheeks, then his forehead "you're feverish."

"Was feeling sick yesterday too," he explained, muffling a sick burp against his fist and leaning back, gulping nervously, "I think you should go, Bells, I don't want you to catch this-"

"You were literally inside of me yesterday, a little late for that," she snapped, climbing on the couch to keep touching him, frantic in a way that was very unusual to his girlfriend, "why didn't you say you were sick yesterday?"

"I thought it was nerves," Lucas leaned on her touch, "why are you freaking out?"

"I'm not," her voice got a weird tone and he forced his eyes open, raising a single eyebrow. Bella looked away, "last time I saw you this pale you were in a hospital, Luke..."

"Oh yeah," he opened a tired smile, feeling his belly gurgle sickeningly, "you were at the hospital then. We never talked about that."

"And we're not talking about it now either," she glared at him, hands cupping his face, "are you in pain? You look like you're in pain..."

"Just a stomachache..." he winced and leaned forward again, gulping down, "ugh... Get me a bowl?"

Bella rushed back to the kitchen to retrieve a bowl and Lucas pressed his elbows to his knee, burying his face in his hands. It all hurt, cramps squeezing his lower belly. Almost like it was pulsing.

He felt more liquid slosh up and gulped down, not wanting to make a mess. This was unfair, he had just gotten her back-

"Here," Bella held up a big mixing bowl in front of his face and he grabbed it with shaky hands. One of her hands remained on it, while the other one cupped his forehead, "were you feeling this sick yesterday? Did you throw up?"

He shook his head no, unable to speak and then retched. Nothing came up, but the pain flared up and he couldn't help but whimper. Bella cursed, unable to do anything to help.

With one soft, airy burp more of his stomach acid came up. He really didn't have anything to puke, he hadn't been able to eat anything yesterday with the constant butterflies.

"Fuck," he leaned back and Bella planted the bowl in the coffee table, combing his sweaty hair. He was covered in cold sweat and when he glanced down his belly seemed puffy, pressing against the boxer briefs, "great way to restart dating."

She let out a nervous chuckle, cupping his cheek, "you'll be fine for a second? I just need to call my mom and let her know we're not going."

"You can go, baby-" he turned his head to look at her, lazily, "it might be good-"

"I'm not going," her voice was final and he didn't have it in him to fight her, everything hurt and Lucas wanted his girl.

"Okay..."

She planted a kiss on his brow, then got up to call her mother. Vaguely, through the pulsing, he could hear Bella say "yeah, he's really sick" followed by a string of spanish he was too tired to try to translate. She sounded upset.

"Luke," Bella startled him and he realized he had curled up in a tight ball in the couch, trying to ride out the pain. She was holding the phone between her cheek and shoulder, "baby, let me check something."

She forced him to remove his arms from around his belly and then pressed gently around. The first push caused him to gag, but the second one didn't hurt at all- Until she pulled her hands back suddenly.

It felt like he had been shot.

Lucas let out a shout, curling up again and sobbing, "what- why are you doing this?!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-" Bella whimpered, rubbing his arm, then said something in spanish, followed by, "¿que hago ahora?!"

He looked up, tears clinging to his lashes, "Bell, I don't feel well..." chills wrecked through him, "I don't know what you did, but I don't feel well..."

"We're going to the hospital, Luke," Bella decided, ending the call without goodbyes and getting up, "give me one second to put on pants."

"Hospital...?" he pressed his face to the couch cushion, starting to lose conscience, "no, Bell, no hospital..."

Next time he opened his eyes there were paramedics around him, wearing the distinctive red that set them apart, Bella's face all anxious in the background.

"-Appendicitis, symptoms started yesterday," they were rattling off to the dispatch, "he's throwing up and has a temperature of 101-"

"Bell?" Lucas groaned and she squeezed his hand, trying to stay out of their way.

"Going in and out of consciousness-"

He woke up with machines beeping. In a white room with one baby green wall and the opposite television turned all the way down, with captions on.

Lucas knew this room, he had been here three months before. His stomach ached, but not in a nauseous painful way, just like he had been punched really hard.

"Hi..." only when she spoke did he realize Bella was sitting right next to his bed, holding his hand in hers no less.

"Hi..." he was definitely drugged, Luke thought, struggling to string his thoughts together, "what...?"

"You had appendicitis," Bella glared at him sternly, "my god, Luke, you had appendicitis and you came to the graduation, you must've been feeling like hell. Don't you ever do something like that again."

He frowned, a little lost on why he was being scolded, "are you mad...?"

"No, I..." she held her breath, then let out a long sigh, "how are you feeling?"

"Empty," Lucas groaned, "itchy too."

"Those are the stitches," she explained, "you can come home tomorrow, if everything's fine."

"And you're coming too?" he eyed her suspiciously and Bella nodded, the mask slipping for a second and he saw her eyes tear up, a big exhausted smile open in her face.

"Yeah, I'm coming too."

#emetophilia #sickfic #mywriting #lucas atwood #emeto

[salembutnotthecat]

Request: 2 girls get the stomach virus. Both are in a vomitey/feverish/bone crushing chills of a mess to do anything else but be sick. One gets sick while at work and then gets sent home sick. The other cares for her a little bit before also getting sick at work the next day.

tw emeto, fever, stomach bug

Vanessa adjusted her police uniform, the familiar weight of her badge and utility belt a comforting presence. She glanced at Lucien, who was eagerly checking his gear for what must have been the hundredth time that day. Vanessa couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. She always loved seeing the new recruits before everything happened last time. Before she stepped away from police work.

Now, she was back. She was training Lucien and honestly, she was really enjoying it. She enjoyed it most days. 

But not today.

As they set out on patrol, the sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the city streets. Vanessa's stomach was doing somersaults of its own. She clenched her jaw, determined not to let any sign of discomfort show.

Lucien chatted about their upcoming assignments. Vanessa nodded along, offering occasional words of guidance. But with each step, the queasiness in her stomach intensified.

She knew the feeling all too well. But, this felt different. She was accustomed to feeling sick, but this felt different.  

As they patrolled the neighborhood, Vanessa's grip on her composure tightened. She forced herself to focus on the task at hand, suppressing the urge to double over. Lucien, oblivious to her internal struggle, continued to talk animatedly about their patrol route.

The minutes stretched into hours, and Vanessa's determination not to show weakness battled against the relentless waves of nausea. She stole glances at her watch, counting down the minutes until their shift would end. Just a little longer, she told herself. She could endure it.

"Vanessa," Lucian said, "Are you okay?"

"Hm?" Vanessa questioned. He told her something, or asked her something, and she hadn't responded. 

"Are you alright?" Lucien asked again, "You're awfully quiet tonight."

"Yeah, yeah," Vanessa said, "I think I'm just tired or something."

"Well," Lucien said, "Let's stop for coffee or something then."

As Lucien suggested stopping for coffee, Vanessa's stomach clenched in protest. She hesitated for a moment, considering the potential consequences, but her stubbornness won out. "Coffee sounds good," she replied with a forced smile, hoping the caffeine might stave off the impending storm within her.

They stepped into a nearby café, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the sounds of chatter and clinking cups. Vanessa ordered a strong black coffee, hoping it would provide a temporary reprieve from her nausea.

As she took a sip, the bitter liquid scorched her throat, momentarily distracting her from the rising discomfort in her stomach. But the relief was short-lived. A sudden wave of dizziness swept over her, and Vanessa's grip on the coffee cup faltered.

"Vanessa, you don't look so good," Lucien said. 

"I'm fine," Vanessa insisted, her words sounding hollow even to her own ears. She attempted another sip of coffee, but the bitter taste only intensified her nausea.

Without warning, Vanessa's body rebelled. The familiar sensation of bile rising in her throat sent panic coursing through her veins. She stumbled away from the table, hand clamped over her mouth as she hurried towards the restroom.

"Vanessa!" Lucien called after her, his voice filled with worry.

But it was too late. Vanessa barely made it to the restroom before the first wave of vomiting hit her with brutal force. She doubled over, retching uncontrollably as her body purged itself of everything she had consumed.

The sound echoed in the small restroom, a stark contrast to the bustling café outside. Vanessa felt utterly defeated as she leaned against the tiled wall, tears stinging her eyes from the force of her illness. 

As she heaved, she felt someone pat her back.

"No… no fuck off…" Vanessa coughed. She hated any sort of anyone looking over her. Well, unless it was Willow. Willow, she didn't mind. But this was not her girlfriend, and the last thing Vanessa wanted was her rookie to see her so vulnerable.

"I'm sorry, Vanessa," he said softly, gently wiping her forehead. "I couldn't just stand out there knowing you're in here alone."

Vanessa's eyes stung with tears, a mixture of gratitude and frustration overwhelming her. "I don't... I don't need your help," she mumbled, but her tone lacked conviction.

"I know you're strong, Vanessa," Lucien replied, his voice unwavering. "But even the strongest need support sometimes."

Vanessa wanted to argue, to push him away and retreat into the shell of her pride. But as Lucien continued to offer quiet reassurances and comfort, she couldn't deny the relief of not facing this moment alone.

After what felt like an eternity, the waves of nausea finally subsided, leaving Vanessa drained and shaky. Lucien helped her to her feet, his support a steadying presence as they left the restroom together.

"Come on, I'm taking you back to the precinct," Lucien said, "And you're going home."

-

As Vanessa made her way to the apartment she shared with Willow, she couldn't shake the sense of defeat that lingered from her public display of vulnerability. She dreaded the thought of facing Willow, knowing how worried her girlfriend would be.

The last thing Vanessa wanted was for Willow to know. Willow was overworked, she was always overworked. Vanessa didn't want Willow to feel a need to work more. 

The apartment was quiet as Vanessa let herself in. She tiptoed through the living room, trying to be as silent as possible.

But fate had other plans. As Vanessa reached the hallway leading to their bedroom, a sudden wave of nausea hit her with such intensity that she staggered, barely managing to grab onto the wall for support.

She had to run, to bolt to the bathroom. Like the times before, Vanessa could feel the way the heaves and gags ripped through her, tearing her throat and leaving her shaky as she violently lost what was left in her stomach. 

Vanessa's resolve to hide her condition from Willow crumbled with each heave that wracked her body in the bathroom. The sound echoed in the small space, a stark reminder of her vulnerability. She hated being weak, hated needing help, especially when she knew how tirelessly Willow worked as an emergency nurse. Willow was sleeping. Willow needed to be sleeping.

Willow, however, was already awake, her instincts honed by years of caring for others. The moment she heard the retching sounds from the bathroom, her concern kicked into high gear. Ignoring Vanessa's protests and attempts to downplay the severity of her illness, Willow rushed to her side.

"Vanessa, love, let me help you," Willow's voice was gentle but firm as she knelt beside Vanessa, one hand rubbing soothing circles on her back.

"I'm fine," Vanessa insisted weakly, even as another wave of nausea washed over her, leaving her trembling.

Willow ignored her protests, focusing instead on easing Vanessa's discomfort. As she rubbed Vanessa's back, her trained senses picked up on subtle cues – the clamminess of Vanessa's skin, the elevated temperature radiating from her body.

Vanessa spit, her breathing ragged as she tried to catch her breath. Willow placed a hand on Vanessa's forehead. 

"You have a fever my love," Willow said softly, her tone tinged with worry.

"No.. no I'm just hot from work…" Vanessa said, "I… I just…. I'm fine."

Vanessa's stubbornness warred with the undeniable fact that she was in no condition to argue. She leaned heavily against the bathroom wall, feeling utterly drained and defeated.

Willow dampened a washcloth to cool Vanessa's forehead. Gently, she brushed her girlfriend's hair out of her face.

"How long have you been feeling sick my love?" Willow asked.

Vanessa shrugged, "Since I started, I guess."

"Did you get sick before this one?" Willow asked. Vanessa wanted to lie, but the look on Willow's face told her to think twice about it. 

"I got sick earlier," Vanessa said, "Just once. Lucien and I thought I was just tired and hungry, We got coffee and-"

"You should know better than to drink coffee if you're feeling questionable like that." Willow said.

"Yeah," Vanessa said, "But you should know better, that I never learn."

"Well," Willow said, "I guess you're just lucky then that you got me as your girlfriend. Come on, let's get you to bed, okay?"

-

Against her better judgment, Willow went back to work. Vanessa was stable, Willow knew that. But also, Willow knew her girlfriend. 

“Let me put this in terms you will understand,” Willow said, “You are under house arrest.” 

"That's not fair," Vanessa whined, "You can't do that."

Willow rolled her eyes, "You'll live. I'll be home after work."

Willow returned to her demanding job as an emergency nurse. She had to go back, two days off probably killed her colleagues, they probably had to scramble to fill her position.

As a safety measure, Willow wore a mask. She felt fine, but she knew she was exposed to Vanessa being sick. She needed to be safe. 

But as the day wore on,  Willow began to feel a familiar queasiness in her stomach. She tried to push through it, dismissing it as fatigue or stress from her hectic schedule.

The nausea intensified, accompanied by a throbbing headache and dizziness. She struggled to focus on her tasks, her concern growing with each passing hour. She tried to keep up with everything, to distract herself. But, it was hard to focus. She felt sicker and sicker and she hated it.

Milan had noticed first. He was almost attuned to Willow, sensing when something was wrong. Willow was the same with him, they both frequently joked it was the only thing to come out of sleeping with the same guy. But, regardless, he noticed before everyone else. To a degree.

"Hey, you look like you should get something to eat," Milan said, "Let me take your next few rounds, go grab something."

Willow did. After all, maybe she was just hungry. But, she could hardly drink from her water bottle without feeling like she was going to throw up. She was back on the ward, doing her best to isolate by checking over patient folders and files and scheduling tests. 

Doctor Nguyen, a seasoned physician and Willow's mentor, noticed her pale complexion and the way she seemed to be forcing a smile despite her obvious discomfort. He approached her quietly during a brief break between patients.

"Willow, are you feeling alright?" Dr. Nguyen asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

Willow tried to brush off his concern, but a sudden wave of nausea cut her off mid-sentence. She stumbled slightly, clutching the edge of a nearby counter for support. An assistant passing by with a cart seemed to hit at the right moment, Willow snatched one of the sick bags off the cart.

As Willow snatched the sick bag off the passing cart, her stomach rebelled with such force that she barely had time to reach for it before she retched into the bag. Doctor Nguyen's concern deepened, and he quickly guided Willow to a nearby chair, signaling for another nurse to take over her duties.

"Willow, you need to rest," Dr. Nguyen insisted, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Willow, feeling weak and embarrassed by the sudden turn of events, nodded reluctantly. She handed the filled sick bag to an assistant and allowed Dr. Nguyen to lead her to a quiet corner where she could sit and recover.

"I'm sorry," Willow murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she leaned back in the chair, feeling drained and shaky.

"There's nothing to apologize for, Willow," Dr. Nguyen said kindly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Your health comes first. Let's get you home."

Willow wanted to protest, to insist that she could push through the sickness and continue working. But the queasiness in her stomach and the pounding headache made it clear that she needed to heed Dr. Nguyen's advice.

Reluctantly, Willow nodded, realizing that she needed to prioritize her own well-being. Dr. Nguyen arranged for another nurse to cover her remaining shifts, insisting that Willow go home and rest.

As Willow made her way out of the hospital, her steps unsteady and her head spinning, she couldn't shake the feeling of guilt for leaving her colleagues short-handed. But Dr. Nguyen's words echoed in her mind, reminding her that taking care of herself was just as crucial as caring for others.

The journey home felt like an eternity as Willow battled waves of nausea and exhaustion. But, Willow was glad she made it.

Vanessa was in the kitchen, preparing a simple meal when she heard the front door open. She glanced at the clock, surprised that Willow was home earlier than expected.

"Hey, you're home early," Vanessa said with a smile as Willow entered the kitchen, looking pale but determined.

"How are you feeling?" Willow asked, coming in after taking off her shoes, going to grab some water from the fridge.

"I've only thrown up once today, so that's an improvement," Vanessa said, "I thought maybe trying to make something small would help my stomach a bit, I didn't expect you home so soon so, do you want something?"

Willow shook her head, "Not hungry."

Willow wasn't. In fact, Willow was the opposite of hungry. Willow felt horribly nauseous.

Vanessa leaned in to kiss Willow's forehead, a gesture of comfort and welcome. But as her lips touched Willow's skin, Vanessa's eyes widened in realization. Willow felt warm – too warm.

"Willow, you have a fever," Vanessa said, concern lacing her voice as she pulled back slightly.

Before Willow could defend herself or rationalize why she felt warm, a sudden wave of nausea gripped her with such intensity that she had to lurch towards the kitchen sink.

Vanessa reacted swiftly, pulling Willow's hair back and rubbing soothing circles on her back as Willow retched into the sink. Despite the discomfort, very little came up, leaving Willow feeling even more queasy.

"Easy, love," Vanessa murmured, her voice filled with empathy as she continued to support Willow. "Just let it out."

Willow clung to the edge of the sink, her body tense with nausea but unable to expel much. She felt utterly miserable, the combination of fever, nausea, and fatigue overwhelming her.

"Here," Vanessa said gently, handing Willow the glass of water. "Try to finish it. It might force your stomach one way or another."

Willow nodded weakly, taking small sips of water as Vanessa rubbed her back in a soothing rhythm. Vanessa could feel the tension in Willow's body, the strain of trying not to be sick despite her body's insistence.

"Maybe a change of position will help," Vanessa suggested, guiding Willow to sit at the kitchen table. She stood behind Willow, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend in a comforting embrace. "Here, let's see how this works for you."

Vanessa stood behind Willow. She hugged Willow from behind. She rubbed Willow's stomach with her hand, putting pressure on her girlfriend's abdomen.

Willow followed Vanessa's guidance, leaning forward slightly as Vanessa hugged her from behind. The gentle pressure and warmth of Vanessa's embrace, coupled with the rhythmic motion, gradually eased the tightness in Willow's stomach.

After a few minutes, Willow felt a release. She burped, once. Vanessa rubbed her stomach harder and it was like a dam was opened. Willow felt hot, chunky liquid rush up her throat. Vanessa let go briefly to turn the sink on, to run it, before going back to Willow's stomach and continuing to rub it. 

"Alright baby girl," Vanessa said, "Let's get it out, and then get you to bed."

#emeto #sickfic #emeto fic #emeto tw #emeto cw #fever cw #fever tw #emetophilia

[comfortjoonie]

MOONCHILD: THE JOURNEY CHAPTER TWO

ok so i've officially decided to make Namjoon's pregnancy a series! here's chapter one: chapter one

I hope you guys enjoy!!

TW: Pregnancy, hospitals, emeto

The whole car ride, Namjoon is silent and far too pale.  He’s holding his stomach with his head resting against the window.  Yoongi’s hand is on his shoulder, telling him how much longer it’ll be until they’re at the hospital every few minutes.  When they pull up in the parking lot, Yoongi has to help his husband out of the car and into the waiting room where he sits down.  Yoongi checks him in, and only five minutes later they’re given a private room and told the doctor will be in shortly.

Namjoon looks exhausted in his hospital bed.  The fatigue is no joke during his first trimester, and all the vomiting makes it worse.

A male doctor walks in with a bright smile at the two of them.  “What brings you here today?” he asks.

“It’s my husband,” Yoongi says.  “He’s nine weeks pregnant now and he’s just been vomiting every day.”

“Alright.  So morning sickness is pretty typical for pregnancy,” the doctor says.

“He’s been sick all day, every day,” Yoongi says.  “It’s more than just morning sickness.”

“Namjoon, how bad would you say the nausea is when you’re not vomiting?” the doctor asks.

“Bad,” Namjoon says.

“He’s been losing a lot of weight.  He hasn’t been able to work out at all,” Yoongi says.

“It sounds like hyperemesis to me.  I can give you some medication and if you’d like, we can keep him here today for IV fluids.  But I believe that the medication will bring him enough comfort to drink and eat.  Besides that, I’d just try to wait the sickness out until the second trimester starts.”  The doctor smiles.  “Would you like to stay and have fluids today?”

Namjoon shakes his head before Yoongi can say anything.  “No, thank you.  I’d like to go home.”

“Great.  I’ll get some medicine from the pharmacy, then.”  The doctor leaves, and Namjoon sighs.

“Namjoonie, why would you refuse?”

“Hyung, I hate hospitals.  I don’t want to stay here any longer.  The medicine should help, anyways, right?”  Namjoon asks.

“I…yes, Joonie, but I’m still worried about you.  I know I wasn’t born with the ability to carry and I don’t know much about pregnancy, but this really doesn’t seem normal to me.”

“It’ll all work out in the end, hyung,” Namjoon says, but he doesn’t sound so sure.  The doctor returns with two boxes of medicine.

“I’ll give you one of these now.  Just take one whenever you start to feel like you might be sick.  Put it under your tongue and let it dissolve.”  Namjoon sighs in relief.  He’s been terrible at swallowing pills this pregnancy.  It makes him so much more nauseous.  A tablet like this is much better.  “Now, I don’t recommend taking these first thing in the morning.  They probably won’t be able to stop morning sickness, but later in the day, like after lunch, you can start taking them,” the doctor instructs.

“Thank you,” Yoongi says, grabbing the boxes bowing to him.

“No problem.  If this continues, talk to your regular doctor and see what she can do to help.  You’re free to go home now.”

—-------

When Namjoon and Yoongi arrive at the dorms, the others are waiting by the front door for them.  Namjoon brushes past them and goes to his room.  He still feels nauseous, but not like he’s going to throw up instantly.

“What happened, hyung?” Hoseok asks while Yoongi sets down his stuff.  Yoongi said he wouldn’t tell the others, but he’s having a hard time lying to them.

“We went to the hospital.  Joon hasn’t been able to keep barely anything down these past couple of days.”

“Oh, no.  Poor Joonie,” Jimin says softly.

“The doctor gave us some medicine, but I’m not sure it’ll work.  I think for today I’ll just let him rest.  What time is the photoshoot tomorrow?”

“10 AM,” Jin says.  “Do you think he can make it?”

“I’ll talk to him in the morning,” Yoongi says.  “He’ll probably want to push through, but I’m not sure that it’s what’s best.  His hiatus is announced tomorrow, so it’s not that big of a deal if he misses the photoshoot.”

“We don’t want to leave him here all by himself, though, do we?” Jin asks, and Yoongi sighs.

“I don’t know.  I mean, the fans don’t know anything yet.  They don’t even know Namjoon and I are married.  They didn’t even know we started dating five years ago.  So it’s not like I can stay back with him.  They’d get suspicious if two of us were missing again.”  Yoongi sighs.  “We’ll just take this one step at a time.  For now, we should have lunch.”

All the members nod and resume whatever they were doing before they realized Namjoon and Yoongi were gone – Jungkook and Taehyung playing a video game, Jin cooking lunch, and Hoseok and Jimin reading books on the chairs.

Yoongi goes to his and Namjoon’s room to check on the younger.  Namjoon is curled up on his side of the bed, looking way better than before but still a little pale.

“How are you feeling, Joonie?” Yoongi asks.

“A little better,” Namjoon responds.  Yoongi gives Namjoon a kiss on the forehead.

“You look better than before, honey.  Your face isn’t so pale.”  Namjoon nods a little.

“I still feel a little nauseous.  Just not like I’m going to throw up anymore.”

“That’s better.  Seokjin-hyung is making lunch for us.  He’s almost done.  Are you gonna come out or do you want me to bring the food in here for you?”

“I’ll come out.  I don’t want anyone to be worried,” Namjoon says.

“Do you need help standing up?” Yoongi asks.

Namjoon stands up by himself in response.  Together, the two of them walk back to the dining room, where Seokjin is putting out the bowls of soup.  Namjoon’s nose wrinkles at the smell.

He sits down and takes a bite.  As always, Seokjin’s cooking is delicious.  “Thank you, hyung,” he says, and Seokjin smiles back at him.

A conversation starts between the six members that aren’t Namjoon, and he listens attentively as he eats his soup more.  He hadn’t realized how hungry he was, and he eats it all too fast before it starts to hurt his stomach.  It cramps, and he hisses and grimaces.  “Hyung?” Jungkook asks.  “Everything okay?”

“It’s fine – my stomach is just bothering me,” he responds, putting a hand over the small bump.

“Do you need to throw up?” Seokjin asks.  He’s seen plenty of Namjoon being sick these past weeks, and he’s ready to take the younger to the bathroom at any time necessary.

“No.  It’s fine.”

“We heard you had to go to the hospital, Joonie.  Are you feeling a little better now?” Hoseok asks.  Yoongi curses under his breath.  He’d forgotten to tell the others not to tell Namjoon they knew about the hospital.

“You told them?” Namjoon asks his husband, betrayal in his eyes.

“I…had to, Joonie.  I wasn’t going to lie to them.”

“I hate you!” Namjoon shouts, getting up and leaving the table.  Yoongi sighs.  He knows Namjoon doesn’t mean it.  It’s just the hormones.  But he still hates making his husband feel upset.

Namjoon already has tears in his eyes as he’s running back to the bedroom, but he doesn’t pay attention to the clothes that Jungkook left on the ground in the hallway.  Before he can get around them, he slips, twisting his ankle harshly.  He hears a loud cracking sound and cries out in pain, silently wishing for Yoongi to come help him up.  He already feels terrible for lashing out.  The pain shoots up his leg.  It’s worse than the last time he sprained his ankle.  He pulls up his pant leg and nearly vomits at the sight.  His ankle is twisted to the side and already swelling up.  He wants Yoongi.  The pain is just getting worse by the second.  He can’t walk all the way back down the stairs and to the dining room now.  Then he realizes Yoongi probably doesn’t even want to talk to him right now.  He drags himself to their bedroom and is able to get on the bed through the pain.

Yoongi feels awful.  He knows he shouldn’t have said anything.  But he couldn’t lie to his members.  Not even for Namjoon.  He needs to go check on him.

“I’m gonna go check on Namjoonie,” Yoongi says, standing up.  He walks up the stairs and avoids Jungkook’s clothes on the ground.  The door to their bedroom is wide open and he can instantly tell something is wrong.  Namjoon is lying on the bed, breathing heavily.  He’s in pain.  “Joon?” Yoongi asks softly.

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon cries.  “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s ok, Joonie.  I know it’s just the hormones.  What’s wrong?”  Namjoon points down to his left ankle.  Yoongi gasps.  “Joonie, we need to go to the hospital.”  Namjoon’s ankle is misshapen, swollen, and bruised.  Namjoon shakes his head.

Jungkook appears in the doorway.  “I heard Namjoon crying.  What’s wrong?” he asks, then sees Namjoon’s ankle.  “Oh, crap.  Hyung, we need to get him to the hospital,” he says.

“Can you carry him?”

“On my back?  I don’t want to press against his stomach too much.  I don’t want to hurt the baby,” Jungkook says.

“It’ll be fine,” Yoongi says.  Jungkook comes over to the bed and stands in front of it, Yoongi lifting Namjoon onto the maknae’s back.

“I’m going to go slowly, hyung,” Jungkook says, holding Namjoon’s legs.  He walks down the stairs as carefully as possible, Yoongi following him.  They pass through the dining room, and Seokjin stands up.

“What’s going on?”

“He broke his ankle,” Yoongi says. “We’re going to the emergency room.”

“I’ll come,” Seokjin says, starting to follow them.

“Let me come, too,” Jimin says.

“Sorry, Jiminie.  Only three visitors at a time are allowed.

With that, the four leave and go to Jungkook’s car.  Yoongi and Namjoon sit in the back, Namjoon resting his foot on the older’s lap.  Jungkook speeds through several red lights to get to the hospital.  Every bump jolts Namjoon’s ankle and sends a sharp pain through it.  As soon as they pull up, Seokjin runs into the ER and comes back with a wheelchair and a nurse, who helps Namjoon into it.

Namjoon tries not to pass out from the pain as they wheel him into a room and lift him onto the bed.  Getting into the X-ray machine is hard on Namjoon.  But he does it.  When they get back into the room, he feels badly nauseous again.

“Hyung…” Namjoon says.

“What?” Yoongi and Seokjin say in unison.

“I need a bag…” Yoongi quickly grabs an emesis bag and hands it to Namjoon, who starts throwing up harshly.  Yoongi rubs his back.

“It’s okay, Joonie.  You’re okay,” he says comfortingly.  “You’re gonna be ok.”  Namjoon hands the bag to Yoongi when he’s done, who ties it off and brings it out to throw it away.  When he comes back in, the female doctor is already there.

“Namjoon has a very seriously broken ankle.”  Yoongi presses his lips together.  “When was the last time he ate?”

“Just 30 minutes ago.  But he just threw up.”

“And he’s how far along?”

“Nine weeks.”

“I hate to inform you of this, but if Namjoon wants to dance again…”

Yoongi’s heart pounds.

“He needs surgery.”

#sick!namjoon #sickfic #bts #caretaker!seokjin #caretaker!yoongi #caretaker!jungkook #btssickfic #kpop sickfic #mpreg #pregnant!namjoon #bts angst

[tteokokki]

Maybe, Not Today

Little🍼: Jihyo - 6 yrs to 2/5 yrs old

Caregiver🧸: Sana

|TW: emeto & usage of diapers |

ㅡ Little Hyo was feeling sick and she didn't want to disturb her members...but Sana always knew when the leader was feeling sick and small;

All the members were excitedly walking to the van, they're going on a vacation this weekend as it has been called one precious day of the year! It would be a day to de-stress so some of the member could sleep on their confortable clothes and slip into their mind spaces, and de-stress in their own way. This day had been making almost all the girls feel anxious for his arrival, except the leader who has been feeling warm and exhausted.

Luckily none of the members realized her awkward movements on the past days, she would like to keep up like this until she feels better.

“Hey? Yah! Park Jihyo! Are you even listening to me?”

Nayeon screamed from the other side of the van, she was talking to Jihyo for like almost 20 minutes about the new song they had to recorde.

"Can you shut up! She's sleeping!" Tzuyu screamed back to the oldest member. Jihyo whimpered and tossed around.

"Can you all just...stop, Dahyun, Chaeyoung and Jeongyeon are sleeping! Well Chae was sleeping now she is awake!" Mina said looking at the sleepy Littles.

In the road Jihyo felt better, she even felt like going to this vacation. Sana kept caressing her hair and that made her feel safe to slip in her head space. She was between 7/6 years old and started to feel a bit energetic but every time she regressed to ages lower them 10 years old, she'd be a really shy and quiet baby.

"Hyo Honey we arrived home" Sana's sweet voice waked Jihyo up. The girl was feeling younger than earlier (around 2 years old) and she felt a wave of nausea and just made grabby hands to her Mummy.

Sana grabbed Jihyo with her. She felt how warm her Baby was Jyo's cheeks were redder than they normally were. The Japanese woman entered the house and went upstairs to let Jihyo in her room.

"Hyo's sick" Sana said entering the living room where the others were.

"What do you mean by, Hyo's sick?"

"She's sick! She has a fever and she is probably feeling nauseous. I need some one to bring a diaper to me in my room, I'll be there in a second" Sana went to the kitchen quickly picking Jihyo sippy cup with room temperature water and the little pacifier too. (In the end I put photos I promisse)

She went up again, as soon as she entered the room it smelled horrible, her first thought was that Jihyo vomited. But there wasn't any vomited and the girl was back to sleeping so...

"Shit! I needed to put her in a diaper first" Sana calmed her self down and picked her Baby from the bed, luckily there wasn't any stain. She laid Jihyos head in her shoulder while carrying the little one in an awkward way to the bathroom in her room.

"Sha? I have the diaper, it's jeongyeon's so maybe it will be a little bigger in Jihyo...oh! Did she had an accident? Do you want help?" Mina asked with the diaper and the materials to a diaper change in her hands, trying not to laugh at Sanas awkward position trying not to touch the baby's bum.

"Do you know what to do?" Sana said in a desperated voice, Jihyo had never an accident like this.

"Of course Sha! Chaeyoung is a non-verbal Baby I've been in this situation before when she caught that stomach bug, remember? Momo had to help me" Mina said already jumping in action.

The little girl was too sleepy and embarrassed to protest about being in that position. Jihyo just wanted to get back to Sana's fluffy and confortable bed, so she just kept whimpering and sometimes shifting her legs while bathing.

"M-mama out" The little one said making grabby hands to the Japanese woman again.

"Just a moment Marshmallow" Sana said finishing bathing her Baby. Moments after Minatozaki took the girl off of the bathtub she went back to her room with Jihyo rolled up in a kuromi themed robe.

"Okay! Now we can put the diaper on this Sweet Baby!" The older woman picked a pink diaper that had strawberry printed in it.

Sana gave water and full attention to the sickie Baby, she made Jihyo drink a medicine without the little even noticing at first. She even made the baby leader eat some seaweed soup at night and, gave to Jihyo her milk bottle to help her sleep.

She slept quickly hugging Sana's body, the Japanese woman changed the milky bottle for the little's pacifier. Sana fell asleep watching her little marshmallow sleeping like a serene Baby.

ㅡ It's not very good but..this is what I have for today! My first one-shot (I thk)

- English It's not my first language so..there may be some grammatical errors I'm sorry

#little space #sfw #sfw agere #sfw caregiver #sfw little stuff #sfw littlespace #age regression #agere little #age regression twice #little!jihyo #little!twice #Moa writes!

[shion-yu]

Popsicle

Just a fluffy little Al/Theo drabble. 1,385 words. TW: Emeto, mention of past character suicide. Cool article about historic CF treatment here.

One of the first pictures Al has of himself is in the mist tent. He doesn't remember much about it - they were already going out of style when he was born and quickly fizzled out as an effective treatment for cystic fibrosis in the early 80s. Good thing, given they were better breeding grounds for pseudemonas than anything, but the snapshot remains among Al's many baby pictures. There's so many, his mom explains to him, because they didn't think he'd live past childhood. Everything felt unknown back then. Now, Al thinks, so much is different. Kids are diagnosed within 24 hours of being born thanks to mandatory newborn screenings. There are medications and treatments that extend life expectancy for some CFers almost to normal. Very little existed on that snow-stormy night in 1979 when Al was born.

When Theo sees the picture of Al in that plastic nighttime prison, the gigantic compressor next to his crib that easily weighed a hundred times more than he did, his jaw drops. "This can't be real," he says in disbelief. "This looks more like the 1930s. 1960s, tops."

"What, you think my parents put me in there for fun?" Al smirks. "But you're right. It looks crazy. But rural Ohio, ya know, it was a bit behind on the times."

Al's mom also regales him with tales of disassembling and sanitizing the entire contraption plus changing the bed every morning, the sheets often soaking wet by then. He doesn't envy her at all. It's just another reason Al respects his mother endlessly, even though he knows he doesn't call her enough. He should call her more often.

They stopped talking every day after Al moved to New York. It was gradual but intentional, and often because Al hadn't wanted to admit to her when she asked how his day was that he'd gotten into another fight with Ollie. She loved Ollie, but she had never thought they were ready to marry or move in together. Ollie had only tried to kill himself last year, she told him. What were they going to do in a big city, in another state, without a clear plan for their future? Couldn't they just move to Columbus and try there?

It was a big fight. Al ended up going, and after that he felt too ashamed to tell his mother that maybe she had been right. After Ollie died Al was scared to talk to her about it. He was already so broken, he didn't need to be told what he did wrong. But when they finally did talk about it, she just hugged him and told him she was there for whatever he needed. He should have trusted her more, he thought as he sobbed in her arms just like he was a boy again.

She's supposed to be visiting sometime soon. It was going to be this week, but both Al and Theo woke up yesterday with a stomach virus from hell and had spent most of the last twenty-four hours vomiting in tandem. Theo has it worse than Al though and Al's doing his best to keep Theo as hydrated as possible. It seemed like everything he's offered Theo comes right back up, though.

"I'm fucking dying," Theo groans loudly after yet another round of violent gagging. He's lying on the bathroom rug, naked other than a pair of boxers and shivering despite most of the blankets in the apartment being piled on top of him.

Al's in his own nest in the bathtub with the rest of the remaining blankets that they possess. He stopped vomiting a few hours ago and now just feels vaguely nauseous and exhausted, but doesn’t want to leave Theo’s side. “You’re going to be fine,” Al tells him, although Theo does look on death’s doorstep if he’s being honest. “Drink some more Gatorade.”

“Ugh. Don’t even say that,” Theo says. He’s been alternatively sipping on and puking up Gatorade ever since this started and he doesn't think he ever wants to taste that shit again.

"Do you want to go to the hospital?" Al asks him.

"Shut the fuck up," Theo mutters, which causes Al to laugh.

"You're fine enough to complain," Al says. He detangles himself from his blanket cacoon and climbs out of the tub to rub Theo's back. Theo quivers in response to being touched, but after the initial discomfort it feels good. Al tries to remember what else he can do to help someone with the stomach flu, but he can only ever remember having it once before when he was quite young. What had his mom done to make him feel better? "How about a popsicle? It'll get that taste out of your mouth."

Theo seems to consider it very seriously before he says, "In ten minutes."

"Got it," Al says with a tired smile. His partner is exceedingly logical as always and Al knows he was weighing the pros and cons of a popsicle now versus in ten minutes versus never. Al waits ten minutes before dragging himself to the kitchen to grab a popsicle and calls to update his mom.

"Hi baby," she says when she picks up. "How're you two holding up?"

Al tells her that he's fine now, but Theo's still going through it. "Any ideas? I'm about to give him a popsicle."

"That's a good idea," she tells him. "Hmm... Got any of those ginger candies?" Al considers it. He thinks maybe he has some burried among all the crap in his med cabinet. "What about pepto bismol?"

"Ew, the pink stuff?" Al cringes. It never worked well for him personally, but it seems the zofran he's been giving Theo hasn't really worked so maybe it's worth a try.

"I'll order you some," she says. Ever since she discovered the magic of grocery delivery she seems to find some excuse to send him something every week. He doesn't bother arguing this time, since it's for Theo's benefit and he knows it makes her feel better to help. "What's Theo's favorite flavor of popsicles?"

"Green," Al says.

"Lime, dear," his mother corrects him. Al doesn't say anything. It's not worth fighting about.

"Thanks mom," Al says. "Love you. I'll call later."

"Let me know when you're feeling better," she responds, "And I'll re-book my flight."

Al knows she'll rebook it within an hour, so he'd better wait until they're feeling entirely better. Theo is fond of Al's mother, but he doesn't need her nagging and taking over the apartment while he's still not feeling well. Al tells her he loves her again and hangs up. Then he goes back to Theo's side where he finds his boyfriend yet again retching fruitlessly into the toilet. His heart clenches with pity.

"Poor Theo," he hums sympathetically, "You're okay. Deep breaths."

"Nothing's coming up," Theo groans.

"I know," Al says. "Let's get you to bed, okay? I want you to try eating this."

"What if I throw up in bed?" Theo mumbles feverishly.

"Then you throw up in bed. It'll be okay," Al soothes him, wrapping one of Theo's arms around his shoulders and hoisting him to his feet. They make it to the bedroom where Al deposits Theo onto the bed and presses the popsicle to his lips. "Suck on this. Just a little," Al coaxes him. "I know you don't want to but I can't let you get dehydrated."

"Fine," Theo obeys reluctantly. He gags a little but manages a decent amount before he pushes it into Al's hands. "I'm done," he pleads.

"Good job," Al says gently, running a hand through Theo's hair. He kisses Theo's forehead and puts the remaining popsicle into an empty water cup on his bedside table, so when it melts it won't make a mess. Then he brings a wet washcloth from the bathroom and washes Theo's sweaty, sticky face for him.

"Do you think you can sleep?" Al asks Theo. "Just for a bit."

"Maybe," Theo says. His pale, greyish complexion makes him look older than he is. "Will you stay with me?"

"Of course," Al says. He wants to nap too, anyways. "I'll be right here, don't worry."

"Love you," Theo mumbles.

Al smiles a little and kisses Theo again. "I love you too. Now rest."

Not sure if we actually have to write something for the "Free Space" in @hurtcomfort-bingo but if so, I'll count this one for my Free Space!

#shionwrites #oc: albert #oc: theo #emeto #stomach flu #hurt comfort #sick whump #sickfic #hurtcomfortbingo #free space

[soft-for-yoongi]

Hii! I hope you’re doing well. I just had this idea for a JK sick scenario. What about JK being in a concert and he gets kicked in the stomach in one of their dances but to not worry the others he continues with the concert. Then, the pain starts progressively getting worse through the concert and in one of their breaks, he throws up and starts feeling dizzy but reassures the others that he is fine. He finishes the concert in pain, nauseous and feeling really poor. Then, maybe when they’re changing they notice that he has a big bruise on his abdomen. He faints and gets rushed to the hospital where they find out that he was hit so hard that he was bleeding internally?

Idk if you’re taking requests but i thought I’d shared this with you in case you wanted inspiration or to take the story

ON Accident (sick JK)

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

Sick: Jungkook

Caretakers: ot7

Word count: 1538

Tw: emeto, vom*****, dizziness, nausea, stomach pain

(Taehyung accidently kicks Jungkook in the stomach, hard enough to form a bruise, make him super nauseous and give him stomach pains)

Side note: I didn't include the internal bleeding nor the hospital just because I try stay away from the severe injuries/illnesses!! I hope you don't mind x

Thank you for the idea, anon!!! <3

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

It was halfway during ON, their concert was going so well and all of them were having a blast and Army was screaming and cheering, having the time of their lives. Everything was going smooth until..

Wack

A foot straight into Jungkook's stomach, making him suck in a sharp breath and stumble over the harsh choreography of the song. Jungkook registers that it was Taehyung and holds no grudge, Taehyung's definitely noticed what he did and is already looking guilty. Jungkook feels the lingering pain, still not died off as he dances like nothing happened. His middle aches and sharp pains make it immensely harder to keep a straight face.

He definitely got winded, his stomach area hurts as he moves, a pulsating feeling making him struggle to hit notes. Jungkook makes eye contact with Hoseok but instead of a stern look, it's one of concern.

They finish up the song, arms around each other, back facing the crowd. Jungkook hangs his head low, unable to hold back the grimace.

"Jungkook-ah!! I'm so sorry–I didn't mean to kick you. I'm sorry, does it hurt still? What am I talking about of course it hurts—please forgive me, I'm sorry-" Taehyung rambles the second they get backstage. He doesn't notice the way Jungkook's got a hand over his mouth, stomach threatening to appear.

"Hey, Taehyung-ah. Calm down, what's happend? Are you okay, Jungkook-ah?" Namjoon asks, a hand on both of the youngest' shoulders. The other members have gathered around, all in various states of worry.

Jungkook's ears ring over the sheer volume of fans and his stomach is still aching, making him nauseous and dizzy. "I-I accidentally kicked Jungkookie during ON...." Taehyung mutters, looking at the maknae for signs of anger. "I-It's okay Taetae... I'm just– feeling a little sick." Jungkook replies, attempting a smile but it ends in a retch.

All colour drains from the maknae's face and Yoongi scrambles to get something under his chin. There's chaos between staff members and Taehyung's almost crying, Namjoon is trying to come up with a logical way to handle the situation and Jimin, Hoseok and Seokjin are all trying to comfort the youngest.

Jungkook heaves into a plastic bag, dropping to a squat when standing is too hard. "Come on Kookie—let's sit you down." Seokjin and Jimin usher Jungkook into a chair, Taehyung is clinging onto the 94' liners and Yoongi holds the bag when Jungkook's grip gets too shaky. Jungkook vomits and clutches his middle.

The poor thing gets pained with another grating heave, swaying forward and his head almost submerged into the bag, streams exiting his mouth like a tap. Seokjin is palming small, fast circles between the youngest' shoulders and Jimin keeps the hair out the way.

"Joonie-h-hyung I d-didn't mean to—" Taehyung sobs, wiping his tears away and trying to compose himself. "Hey, shhh love. We know you didn't and Kookie knows too. He's strong Taetae and it was an accident." The leader smiles, petting Taehyung's hair. "Joonie is right, aghi. You don't need to cry, we know you feel bad but Kookie is going to be okay." Hoseok coos, pulling Taehyung into a warm hug.

Jungkook sneaks a look at Taehyung, sandwiched between Namjoon and Hoseok. They make eye contact and Jungkook sends him a thumbs up and a small smile, hoping to reassure the boy. Jungkook feels the nausea lessen a little and swallows down the last hints of puke trying to come up.

"I'm okay..!" Jungkook gets out, sitting up straight and closing his eyes. "Jungkook—" Seokjin starts, "no, hyung. I'm okay, don't worry." Jungkook interrupts. Jimin looks at Yoongi worriedly, the maknae isn't in a condition to dance.

"40 seconds left!!" A staff member calls out. Well fuck. They're going to have to take Jungkook's word and hope for the best.

----

Jungkook sure is one lucky ducky. They don't know how he does it but he manages to work through and dance to three more songs, end speeches and good byes to Army. They truly don't know how.

Jungkook does know however, that he feels like shit. Shit with a capital S and exclamation mark. He managed to ignore the pulsing pain and the presence of nausea for most of the time. He focused on dancing and putting on a good show for Army. But, of course he can't ignore it forever and the second they get backstage and the concert is over, Jungkook keeps a hand to his middle and flops onto the nearest couch.

"Jungkook! Hey, are you okay?" Taehyung asks, already on the boy's tail and still feeling guilty to the core. "Yeah— I'll be okay." Jungkook chokes out, a make-up artist is removing his makeup and somebody takes him to their change rooms. He meets the rest of the members in there and from the looks of it, they were talking about Jungkook, as they all go quiet when he walks in.

"Are you alright, kid?" Yoongi asks, the other members are undressing swiftly because they can all tell that Jungkook is eager to get home. Jungkook feels his heart clench. He can't resist opening up to the eldest rapper. Jungkook shakes his head weakly, glad they're free of staff to give them privacy. "Y-Yoongi-hyung..." Jungkook whimpers, a hand to his middle and the other making grabby hands for the older.

Yoongi steps forward to Jungkook and holds him at the waist. "Is your stomach hurting still?" Yoongi places a hand over Jungkook's that's glued to his stomach. Jungkook nods repeatedly and Taehyung somehow manages to feel even more guilty than he already was. "Can I see, Kook-ah?" Yoongi hesitates before lifting the edge of the maknae's shirt ever so slightly. After getting a nod, Yoongi lifts Jungkook's top to reveal a bruise right in the middle of the boy's poor stomach. The other members give a quiet gasp and Seokjin mutters a worried comment under his breath.

Jungkook wants to cover it up instinctively but Hoseok has gravitated over and gently takes his hand, giving it a massage. Yoongi softly touches the bruise, apparently pressing a little too hard, "o-ow—hyung that hurts." Jungkook moans, god he's starting to feel sick again. "Sorry, Kook. That's one heck of a bruise you got," Yoongi comments. Seokjin is eyeing Jungkook's complexion and takes the pale pallor as a hint to grab a plastic bag in case.

"Here, Jungkookie. How about you rest on the couch?" Hoseok advises, guiding the maknae to sit down before he falls over. Namjoon eyes Seokjin wearily. When Jungkook sits down there's silence until his stomach gives a menacing gurgle and he brings a fist to his mouth. "Feeling sick again, love?" Seokjin walks over and kneels in front of the youngest, bag at the ready.

A gut wrenching heave makes Jungkook grab for the bag and shove his face in it. Seokjin's eyebrows raise in alarm but he starts to rub the boy's back to offer some comfort. Taehyung is being comforted by Jimin, although both of them are worried shitless about their yongest brother.

"Try to breathe, Kookie." Seokjin coos, Yoongi is working to hold back Jungkook's hair and Namjoon is racking his brain for an idea on when Jungkook is going to start feeling better. Hoseok is feeling a little squimish so instead he tries to comfort the 95's.

Jungkook feels his middle clench and coughs up a wave of puke. His hands shake as he holds the bag and a wet burp drags up his throat. Another torrent forces its way out and Jungkook holds back a whimper. He coughs and coughs, Seokjin pats his back and Yoongi strokes his hair. "Calm down, bun. You don't want to hurt yourself." Seokjin worries.

Namjoon makes sure their car is ready so they can leave as soon as possible and Hoseok gathers some comfy clothes Jungkook can change into, given skinny jeans and his stage outfit isn't the comfiest. Jungkook takes a few shaky breaths, calming himself down. "Please, c-can we go home, h-hyungies?" Jungkook looks up at them all, eyes glistening.

"Of course, Kookie. Are you feeling less icky now?" Seokjin croons, gaining a small nod. "Taehyung, do you mind helping him change?" Seokjin looks over at the second youngest. Even though Jungkook has forgiven him, the two should spend some time with each other. "Is that okay, Jungkookie?" Taehyung asks, he'd love nothing more than to make it up to Jungkook.

Jungkook nods vigorously, already missing his bubbly, happy Taehyungie-hyung. Jimin taps Taehyung on the butt before he makes his way over to Jungkook. Taehyung and Seokjin help the boy up, while Yoongi takes the puke bag. When Jungkook is upright, the maknae smuggles Taehyung in an embrace, taking him by surprise. "I don't like seeing you sad, T-Taehyungie-hyung.." Jungkook mutters quietly.

Taehyung smiles, quick to hug back but still being mindful of Jungkook's stomach. "I know, I'm sorry Jungkookie... you know I didn't mean to, right?" Taehyung replies, "Of course, hyungie. I forgive you." Jungkook smiles. "Thank you, Kookie. Now let's get changed and go home, huh?" Taehyung smirks.

#soft-for-yoongi writes #jungkook #bts #bts!sickfic #bangtan #emeto #emeto fic #sick #sick!jungkook #caring!bts #taehyung is sweet #comfort #vomit mention #vomiting

[zhongster]

Hi there! I absolutely LOVE your page! Your stories and headcannons have left me blushing SEVERAL times. Thank you :)

Ahem. Anyways...

I've got this idea in my brain and was wondering what your thoughts on it/would you write a small story about said topic.

So, as you said in your Vax headcannons, he's not shy about his belching abilities until Keyleth comes around, then he's "nervous"

What if, the two of them were made to share a room at an inn or something during one of their quests. She's busy talking to Pike or Vex even, he's alone in the room. WRONG. She comes in as he's just about to start releasing said "monsters" in his stomach. Of course, she wants him to feel better, she's his friend/girlfriend/wife (you decide, lol) so she encourages him to let loose and when he does, he finds out she secretly "likes" it...

I hope you enjoy this idea that now lives rent-free in my brain.

Oh my god dude… this prompt has me on the floor holy fuck. Also tysm I’m glad I’m finding more eructo people that like tlovm/cr 😭

(Post Writing Note: another day another me poking my emetophobia with a stick like an angry bear, that being said: ⚠️‼️EMETO TW: MENTIONS ONLY, WE DON’T ACTUALLY SEE IT (it happens off screen, so to speak) ‼️⚠️)

THIS IS KINK CONTENT, DNI IF YOU DON’T LIKE IT

Vax absolutely adored Vox Machina’s post victory ragers and considering the dragon they’d just killed, he found himself drinking with his friends and destroying some poor innkeeper’s tavern. Some hours ago Scanlan had disappeared upstairs with a rather attractive male tiefling to do god knows what and Grog and Pike lay asleep at a table over in the corner. This left only Vax, Vex, Keyleth, and Percy keeping the party going.

As he glanced around the room, looking for his sister (who definitely wasn’t in the process of swindling a nearby dwarf out of several gold pieces), he spotted Keyleth attempting to lead Percy in a drunken imitation of a waltz. The two of them were giggling and stumbling over each other and Vax was of the opinion that Keyleth had never looked prettier.

Vax’s stomach gave a slight groan to which he gently placed a hand over it. It pressed against his shirt, filled to the brim with tavern food and alcohol. A small gas bubble pressed up his throat and came out in the form of a quiet closed-mouth burp.

He decided he’d better make his escape now while Keyleth was distracted. He could go up to their shared room in the inn and empty his stomach of its troublesome gas before Keyleth was even aware he was gone.

He’d only just made it past the threshold of their room when a sizable belch forced its way up his throat. He placed a hand on his chest in slight surprise, he hadn’t expected that one. He wasn’t too perturbed however, this had been what he’d come up there to do anyway.

Wasting no further time, Vax turned away from the door and pressed his hand onto the top part of his overtaxed stomach. Immediately another deep belch rolled up his chest and out of his open mouth. As soon as it came to an end the door behind him flew open revealing none other than Keyleth, the one person he was trying to avoid at the moment.

He hurriedly removed his hand from his stomach and clamped his lips shut. However, once that first burp had come out he now found it a bit difficult to keep the rest from following its predecessor.

Keyleth passed through the doorway giggling and animatedly telling him a story about a Goliath that had just been rude to her and, he thinks, Percy ended up vomiting on his shoes when he attempted to tell the guy off. Vax isn’t totally sure as all of his focus is currently in keeping the rest of the air in his stomach from making an appearance in front of Keyleth. He’d taken to nodding and smiling through her story instead of actually responding.

“And anyway, Percy’s fine. I think Vex took him back to their room” Keyleth finished.

Vax hummed in acknowledgment.

Apparently, despite her slightly drunken state, Keyleth took notice of his lack of verbal response. “You feeling okay?” She asks, raising her eyebrow.

“Oh uhh-“ Vax started before he inevitably lost the battle with his stomach.

The belch that rolled out of him was a long one. Long enough, in fact, that he had time to close his mouth part way through, turning it into an extremely deep closed mouth burp.

Keyleth was just staring at him.

Vax lifted a fist to cover his mouth as he stifled a smaller after-burp, “shit, excuse me I’m so sorry Keyleth.” He apologized.

This seemed to break Keyleth out of the sort of shock she’d been in and she stuttered back to life with an awkward jolt.

She hurriedly waved her hands in front of him, “Nononono don’t worry about it, is your stomach hurting? Do you feel sick?” She asked.

Vax shook his head, “No I’ve just got… a bit of gas I’m afraid.”

Keyleth’s shoulders tightened before she spoke “Oh… well I’m glad you aren’t sick, you can keep going I don’t mind. I just want you to feel better.”

As much as he didn’t want to take her up on her offer it was beginning to seem as though he wouldn’t have any other choice. His body was not reacting well to the alcohol and he began to hiccup. His hiccups never lead to anywhere pleasant. Though they were tame at the moment he knew they would devolve in a few short minutes.

And of course, right on cue, he was wracked with another hiccup that quickly turned into an extremely long and painful burp. When it came to an end he brought an open palm to his chest and gently began to rub his own sternum. That one had hurt. Before he had a minute to breathe another hiccup-burp shook his chest. “Oh god” he wheezed.

He looked up to Keyleth who was staring at him like a deer in headlights and weakly gestured towards his back. She seemed to get the message as she began to roughly bring her palm down in between his shoulder blades. This finally managed to jar the rest of the air that was struggling to get out of him. The belch seemed to go on forever and when it finally ended he was gasping in relief.

“Gods that wasn’t fun,” he winced “thanks Keyleth.”

She seemed to start at the sound of her name and snorted a quick “no problem”.

That’s when Vax noticed it for the first time. There was a light rosy tint to Keyleth’s cheeks that hadn’t been there before. Now, her face usually flushed when she’d been drinking but he’d seen her drunk enough times at this point that he knew this was different.

Her strange behavior since she entered the room was finally starting to click. She was into it. She was actually into his gas.

Now Vax wasn’t one to kink-shame, he was friends with Scanlan after all, but the idea of her being attracted to him in any capacity both excited and terrified him. It almost seemed as though his hopelessly unrequited crush on her might not be so unrequited at all.

Shaking that thought out of his head, the mischievous part of his personality began to make an appearance and he found himself wanting to tease her even more than he already had. Against his better judgement, he subtly gulped down more air and smiled wickedly to himself.

This was going to be fun.

#burping #eructophilia #belching #the legend of vox machina #critical role #vax’ildan #vaxleth

[monthofsick]

Thanks, I hate it

Nov(emeto)ber 2022, Day 7: Enemy to Caretaker

OCs: Tiago, Hunter

This is my first time writing an actual asshole caretaker who doubles as a very biased narrator. I feel a tad guilty for picking Tiago again, but it all came together so naturally. Even though this is written from a very subjective point of view, I also simply love to make seemingly perfect people sick.

TW: Vomit, mild scat/both ends, mean caretaker

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Hunter Calaway was perfect.

He had the face of an ancient demigod – big, expressive eyes, sensual lips and cheekbones you could cut paper with. His curls were naturally defined, he was tall and athletic (kind of a given, considering he was the college’s basketball MVP) and he had flawless caramel skin. He also had heterochromia, because of course he had. A real life Gary Stu like him needed his special eyes. It was like people from all around the globe had come together to create an ultimate winner in the genetic lottery.

Tiago hated him with a passion.

Maybe he was a tiny bit biased because of the whole Diamond issue. Diamond was the campus goddess, head cheerleader and pride of the debate club. Tiago had a crush on her since junior high, but who did she end up with? The Great Hunter himself. Because he was such a kind‑hearted gentleman who loved to spend his free time doing voluntary work.

As if it couldn’t get any worse, both Hunter and Tiago had been assigned to represent the basketball team at New Student’s Day. They had to conceptualize a banner, create a flyer and come up with fun activities to attract new talents. Tiago had felt honored to be picked for the job… until he realized that a) he had to work together with his personal nemesis and b) they had only been chosen because no one else had volunteered for the task. Now he had to invest his free time while constantly fighting the urge to display his aversion.

Today was especially frustrating. They hadn’t agreed on how to translate the team’s logo into a banner yet. Tiago wanted to focus on the colors for a more clean and modern look, Hunter wanted their Rottweiler mascot front and center. It didn’t help that Mr. Perfect wasn’t his usual upbeat and diplomatic self this afternoon.

„See, they’re basically kids“, he explained in a disgustingly patient tone. „We need something to stand out from the crowd and catch their eyes.“

„Okay, but we don’t want them to think they took the wrong turn to elementary school.“

„But everyone loves our Rottie! Go, Rotties, go!“ Hunter’s face lit up for a moment. „Wait, I just had the best idea ever. You know that I help out in an animal shelter? We could bring an actual Rottweiler, they have a total sweetheart right now. It would be an audience magnet and bring awareness to adopting pets.“

„Everyone and their grandma knows that you volunteer for any good cause known to mankind.“ Tiago exhaled audibly. „That’s because you’re bringing it up like every ten seconds.“

„That is so not true.“ The smile on Hunter’s lips faded as quickly as it had appeared. „Can we just stick to the topic, please? I made a suggestion, you can give your opinion on it. This is not about me.“

„Isn’t it always about you?“, Tiago growled. He knew perfectly well that it was immature and irrelevant, but this entire conversation was oh so typical. Of course, Hunter never had bad intentions. How dare he accuse him of such profanity?

„Look, I know you have a problem with me. I don’t know why because I don’t have a problem with you, but can we still try to make this work?“

„Stop being such a fucking saint.“ Tiago rolled his eyes. „You know what? Just bring the dog. If it tears out some kid’s throat, at least we get all the attention. Can we go back to the actual issue now and sketch a draft of the design each of us has in mind? Because that might actually help with the decision.“

„Fine. At least it means we don’t have to talk for a while.“ That was probably the most hostile thing Hunter had ever said. Tiago was genuinely surprised. Maybe he had hurt Mr. Perfect’s feelings by insinuating that he could be anything but altruistic.

Without wasting further thoughts, Tiago grabbed some pens from the art supplies they had been given. He focused on bringing his vision alive – something not even Hunter could top. Every once in a while, he heard a low rumble, but didn’t pay much attention to it. Only when it grew louder he realized that the source of the noise was his unwanted teammate. Tiago couldn’t hide a broad grin.

„Wait, are you so on edge today because you are hangry?“

„No, I’m not.“ Upon closer inspection, Hunter’s unfamiliar grumpiness wasn’t the only thing that seemed off about him. His complexion was oddly dull and there was a frown line between his eyebrows. Plus he had barely started with his drawing. „Can we just… not talk about this right now?“

„About what? Your bowel sounds?“ Tiago chuckled. „Yeah, I bet that wouldn’t make the girls as wet as you normally do.“

„I don’t care, I’m taken.“ Hunter placed a hand on his abdomen as if that would help to reduce the noise pollution.

„Oh, guess what, I noticed.“ If Tiago hadn’t known better, he could have sworn that Hunter had said that on purpose, just to rub a little more salt into the open wound. „But hey, with that impressive growls, you could do a pretty decent Rottweiler impersonation yourself.“

„That’s not even funny.“ Hunter turned his head, but Tiago still saw his throat bobbing rapidly. Then there was the sickly skin tone and tiny drops of sweat forming on Hunter’s forehead. His stomach rumbles now resembled rolling thunder and Hunter’s hand on his belly skipped like the muscles below were convulsing spasmodically.

Suddenly, Tiago had a terrible suspicion.

„Don’t tell me you’re about to puke.“

„Why did you have to – huuuarrck – say that?“ Something between a very sickly burp and a jerky retch escaped Hunter’s mouth. He immediately pressed it shut again, swallowing audibly several times.

„I swear to God, if you barf on our documents, I shove the stuff right back down your throat.“

„Can you please shut up about it?“ Hunter’s lips curled into a nauseated frown while his broad shoulders abruptly hitched with a hiccup. „I… I think something was off with the chicken breast I had this morning.“

„Who eats chicken breast for breakfast?“ Tiago let out an irritated sigh. „Wait, why are you staring at me like this? You’re a grown ass man, can’t you just go to the fucking toilet all by yourself?“

„See, I know you can’t stand me, but… I really don’t feel good right now and I don’t think I would make it.“

Under any other circumstances, Tiago would have probably enjoyed the miserable expression on Hunter’s face. Desperately trying to keep his stomach contents down wasn’t a good look on him. Too bad the idiot had decided to project some kind of imaginary duty of care on Tiago.

„And how exactly is that my problem?“ Tiago became increasingly annoyed by the entire situation. „Do you want me to carry you to the restroom bridal style or what?“

„You could at least lend me a hand!“

„This is a joke, right?“ The almost pleading expression in Hunter’s sad puppy dog eyes was enough of an answer. Tiago huffed, but he eventually decided that helping his teammate up was the lesser evil compared to him hurling all over the table. Begrudgingly, he put his arm around Hunter’s upper body and pulled a disgusted face as the guy leaned on him while they walked. „You better hold it in until we get there.“

„Mhm.“ It wasn’t exactly reassuring that Hunter didn’t even dare to open his mouth for an answer. His body spoke a pretty clear language anyways. Tiago felt Hunter’s shirt sticking to his sweaty back, which was nasty enough. Being way too close to Hunter for Tiago’s own comfort, he noticed every contraction of his muscles, every subdued retch and cramp. Hunter’s stomach sounded like water that was about to boil over – no wonder he was still clutching it tightly. His trained body heaved with a sloppy burp. „Oh God… that tasted like chicken.“

„Pretty sure everything tastes like chicken“, Tiago grinned. Hunter didn’t seem to share his sense of humor, because the very next second, his hand flew up to his lips and his cheeks bulged out. Tiago instantly withdrew his arm and scrambled backwards. “Swallow it down! Or puke on the floor and clean up later, I don’t even care as long as you don’t get it on me.“

Hunter frantically shook his head, then turned around and dashed towards the next trashcan. He hit the ground, hugged the bin like a lifeline and spewed a majestic cascade of milky vomit into the container. Hunter’s assumption had probably been correct – the white flood he barfed up so generously definitely contained chunks of white meat.

„Woah, that smells horrendous!“ Tiago imitated a productive retch, only to be answered with the exact same sound bubbling out of Hunter’s throat, followed by a surge of liquid hitting the plastic trashbag. If only Diamond could see her adored boyfriend like that. She probably wouldn’t feel like kissing him after watching lumpy chicken hash gushing from his mouth.

„G-guess how it tastes“, Hunter coughed, then lurched towards the trashcan again, curdled gruel bursting from his lips. Tiago rolled his eyes and turned away. Why, of all people, was he cursed to be surrounded by morons with pathetically weak stomachs? He wasn’t even a caring person. Was it really too much to ask for to enjoy his life without random jackasses losing their lunch left and right? It was bad enough when it happened to his lightweight friends, but infinitely worse when it was Hunter who was puking up his guts right in front of him. And ew, the stench!

„I suppose you don’t need a trip to the bathroom anymore?“ Tiago turned to leave. „Because I’m really not keen on watching you blowing chunks any longer.“

„Still… need to go“, Hunter croaked, then arched his back as a garbled retch forced a rather pathetic drizzle of sick out of him. He wiped his luscious lips and stumbled back on his feet. Tiago raised both hands in defense as the aesthetically pleasing puke machine tried to approach him again.

„Stay away from me, you fucking reek.“ Tiago scrunched his nose. „If it’s absolutely necessary, I’ll catch you if you fall. But there’s no way you’re gonna get your barf slime hand on me right now.“

„Do you have to be such an asshole about it?“, Hunter moaned. „I didn’t ask for this, you know?“

„Neither did I“, Tiago replied unmoved. Hunter pouted and wrapped both arms around his belly. His hunched over gait gave an insight into the turmoil troubling his intestines. The greenish hue on his face made him look almost comically sick. Had he really expected Tiago to affectionally rub his muscular back and whisper soothing words into his ear? Was it so hard to understand that Tiago didn’t want to be anywhere near the guy when he still looked like the rest of his spoiled breakfast would erupt from his mouth any second?

Miraculously, Hunter made it to the restroom without spilling his insides again. He shambled into one of the stalls, door closing behind him.

„Okay, I paid my due, now I’m out.“ Tiago’s daily requirement of revolting sounds and odors was easily covered. „Enjoy yourself!“

„W-wait!“ Hunter’s raspy voice sounded begging. „I… I need a bucket, like, ASAP.“

„Are you fucking serious?“ Tiago stopped in the doorway. „You’re in front of a toilet, what the hell do you need a bucket for?“

„I’m sitting on the toilet!“, Hunter groaned. „Dude, I’m dead serious, I can feel it coming up - huuuarrrg.“

„Don’t tell me you’re doing a number two as well.“ Torn between repulsion and a nagging sense of obligation, Tiago rushed towards the sinks. The trash bin was mounted at the wall, so he just removed the bag inside. Tiago returned hastily and squinted as he opened the bathroom stall door. For the sake of his own sanity, he tried hard not to take in the cursed image of Hunter sitting on the porcelaine throne with his pants down, cheeks puffed behind the fingers sealing his lips. „Take this, it’s all you’re gonna get.“

Hunter frantically opened up the trash bag, then writhed as he brought up watery chicken fricassee. It didn’t help that the plastic was translucent, granting Tiago a great view of the vomit fountain shooting out of Hunter’s mouth, drowning the crumpled paper towels at the bottom. The spasmodic pulses of Hunter‘s stomach muscles were enough to set the purging process in full motion. Hunter curled up while his body forcefully emptied itself from both ends.

„Oh my God, that is disgusting“, Tiago pressed out with a muffled gag. He sure had an iron stomach, but the unbearable stench and the sopping wet gargles were getting to him. Just as he was about to leave, a diabolical idea crossed his mind. Innocent enough, he glanced back over his shoulder. „Do you want me to call Diamond? I’m sure she would give you some tender loving care.“

Hunter looked up, gooey sick dripping from his lips. He nodded feebly.

„You… would actually do that for me? That… that would be great… thanks.“

Thanks? The guy was so naive. Did Hunter really think a classy woman like Diamond would lust after him ever again once she saw him in such a pathetic state, spraying stinking slurry from his back and front?

„Sure thing. Don’t worry about it, just get it all out!“

„Thank you, really… I appreciate it“, Hunter groaned unsuspectingly before he was struck by another retch.

Tiago strove to keep his composure while he finally left the fetid cesspool that had been a college restroom not so long ago. Just like he had promised, he immediately called Diamond and informed her about her lover’s predicament. He really hammed it up and emphazised how desperately sick Hunter was and how urgently he needed the solace of her presence. After Tiago hung up, he strolled down the hallway in a much brighter mood. Diamond was in for a major disenchantment when it came to her gorgeous, sexy and charming boyfriend.

Unless she wouldn’t mind.

Unless she would actually take care of him. Hug him tight, rub his cramping belly, hold the bag for him while he threw up. Pat his back, wipe his mouth, kiss his sweaty forehead and reassure him that he would be alright. Guide him home once he had emptied himself and snuggle up on the couch to make him feel safe and loved. But that wasn’t very likely, was it?

Tiago brushed the thought aside and spent the rest of the day distracting himself from these dreadful mental images. At least now he knew for sure that Hunter Calaway was anything but perfect.

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Archive of our own: Up all night to get Bucky

tumblr: birdnamedenza

#submission #tw vomit #tw emeto #tw scat #fandom: original characters #prompt: enemy to caretaker #2022 day7 #nov(emeto)ber 2022 #novemetober 2022 #birdnamedenza #'I also simply love to make seemingly perfect people sick' ugh sameeeeee #i'm weak for 'on the ground puking in a trash can' too this is getting ridiculous #i really freaking love your fics my dude #anyway @tiago who hurt you my dude chill tf out

[slayonehundredninetytwo]

Occupied

tw: emeto

Sickie:Suengmin

Caretaker: Lee Know, Felix, IN

————————————————————————

After a long day of practice and schedules, Seungmin was ready to finally get some rest. He had been feeling unwell all day, but it really wasn’t that bad. Just a little headache was all. But by the time they got back to the dorms for the day, he really started to feel like crap.

“Minnie, what do you want to eat for dinner?”

“Nothing.” Seungmin said, already walking away to his room. He wasn’t hungry at all, the only thing he was “hungry” for was sleep.

Meanwhile, Minho was left confused in the living room. He turned to Felix.

“What’s up with him? Did I do something wrong?” 

“I’m sure it’s nothing. I’ll go talk to him.”

“Okay. I guess I’ll get started on dinner then.”

“Alrighty.” Felix said, walking down the hall to Seungmin’s  room, opening the door to find Seungmin laying in bed already.

“Hey Min. Are you okay? You seemed upset at something earlier.”

“I’m fine. Can you just leave me alone?” Seungmin wasn’t upset before, but he was a little annoyed at Felix interrupting his rest.

“Okay, whatever you say. Minho’s making dinner. I’ll call you when it’s ready, you need to eat, we’ve had a busy day, you have to be at least a little hungry.” The thought of food made Seungmins stomach churn.

“I already told you I’m not hungry.”

“Oh. Okay then? Are you sure you’re not upset at something?”

“Please. Just go away.”

Seungmin wasn’t trying to be rude. He wasn’t even angry. He was just so exhausted. All he wanted was to sleep off whatever was going on with him. But he could see that his words were misunderstood by Felix, and he could practically hear Felix’s thoughts about what he did wrong and why Seungmin was mad at him. He was just too tired to care, and Felix finally left the room, defeated.

“I think he’s definitely upset about something.” Felix said, re-entering the kitchen, where Lee Know was preparing dinner.

“I wonder what’s wrong. He seemed happy earlier??” I.N. said from his seat at the counter.

“Something must have happened.” Lee Know said, dropping 4 squares of ramen into the boiling water. When the noodles are done cooking, they decided to try and send IN to get Seungmin. After all, he had to eat after such a long strenuous day of dancing and singing, or it would not be good for him by any means.

When Jeongin knocked on Seungmin’s door, he received no answer. He assumed his hyung was napping, and let himself in. He was surprised to find Seungmin out of bed, walking to the door. Before IN even said a word, Seungmin pushed passed him. However, he wasn’t on his way to the kitchen. He speed walked to the bathroom and desperately grabbed the door knob, only to find it locked.

“Occupied.” Felix said from inside the bathroom. 

Seungmin slid down the wall beside the door and sat on the ground, he head falling between his knees. IN had followed him down the hall to see where he had gone and had witnessed Seungmin’s defeat.

“What’s wrong Min?” He said, kneeling in front of him.

Seungmin didn’t reply.

“C’mon Minnie. You can talk to me.  What’s got you so upset? Did we do something?”

Seungmin still didn’t reply.

Instead, he pitched forward and threw up a wave of vomit.

IN was certainly shocked, quickly standing up, avoiding the mess growing on the floor, moving to rub Seungmin’s back.

Felix opened the door to this scene, equally as shocked. Quickly, the two helped move the boy into the bathroom, just in time for another wave of vomit in the toilet. They were even more shocked at just how much Seungmin had to throw up, seeing as he had eaten so little that day. IN stayed beside him while Felix went to get Minho. With each heave, Seungmin flew forward with such force that Jeongin had to put his hand to Seungmin’s forehead and hold him up, so he wouldn’t hit the seat. While his hand was there, he found that Seungmin’s forehead was really warm, too warm perhaps. When the poor boy finally was done being sick,  he wiped his mouth with some toilet paper before leaning back against the bath tub, while IN got a cool wash cloth to put on his forehead. 

Once Felix returned with Minho, they decided to move Seungmin to the couch where it would be easier to take care of him. They supported him out the door, passed where the mess previously was, and Seungmin was relieved that his hyungs had already taken care of cleaning it up. But he also felt bad, for making the mess in the first place. 

They helped him to lay on the couch, making sure he was aware of the bucket placed beside him. As Seungmin dosed off, his dorm mates  ate their now room temperature ramen before all settling down to stay with him for the night ahead of them.

——————————————————

i finally finished this one! sorry for the wait, but i hope you liked it! it’s a little shorter than usual i think, but still a good one.

#skz sickfic #stray kids sickfic #skz emeto #sick suengmin #caretaker minho #caretaker felix #caretaker IN

[osp-originals]

Sympathy Sick

TW: emeto

———

It was 11 PM on a normal Tuesday night and Raj was getting ready to go to bed. He saw that the sign was flipped to “occupied” on the shared bathroom door in his dorm.

Oh, Julian must be in there.

He decided to brush his teeth, not thinking anything of it.

A minute later, he heard a loud retch come from the other side of the door. He froze. His stomach was already turning from the sound.

Oh god, is he getting sick?

Raj tried to spit out the toothpaste so he could get out of there as soon as possible, but he was too late. His roommate heaved loudly again and liquid splashed into the toilet.

Raj barely had time to brace himself on the counter before a bit of his dinner made its way up his throat and into the sink. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to think about it.

Julian vomited again and Raj’s stomach followed, bringing up a mouthful of sick. It sounded like Julian was throwing up everything he ever ate with the intensity and length of the splashes.

Jesus Christ. I hope I don’t catch whatever he’s got.

The thought of himself being that sick made his stomach jump. His roommate let out a sickly burp and then more liquid. Raj puked up another puny amount of his food in response.

Julian, please, just stop, he thought. He would never say that out loud, though, because of course, that’s not how sickness works. He can’t stop any more than I can. Wait, can I…?

The next time Julian threw up, Raj tried to forcefully stop himself from following suit. He successfully swallowed down the liquid that came up his throat at first, but then it just came back with a vengeance seconds later. The second gag was much more violent and painful than the first and brought up much more vomit.

That didn’t work at all. I guess if it was that easy, no one would ever be sick.

“Raj?” Julian said from the bathroom.

“Yeah?” Raj responded.

“Are you sick, too?”

“No, I just…” He paused, knowing that even saying these words out loud would turn his stomach. “I always throw up when somebody else throws up.”

“Oh, you’re a sympathy puker?”

He had never heard it in those words before, but now that he did, it definitely applied.

“I guess so.”

“Well, sorry,” Julian apologized.

“It’s okay. I just wish you would’ve told me you were going to… y’know… so that I could stay in my room.”

“I’ll try to text you next time, if it happens again.”

“Thanks. Are you okay, by the way?”

“Yeah. I mean, I feel like shit, but I’m fine.”

I sure get that.

He washed the evidence down the drain and went back to his bedroom, hoping and praying Julian wouldn’t be sick again. Just in case, he texted him:

Let me know if you need anything.

Luckily, it turned out to be a one-time thing and he didn’t need anything.

———

Yeah this is really short lol. Just a fun intro to Raj as a sympathy puker tbh.

Here are some notes/background about Raj if you’re interested:

He and Julian have known each other since high school, but they weren’t very close in high school. They happened to have a couple of classes together in their first year at Uni, and since he was the only person Julian knew in those classes, Julian talked to him and they became better friends. Raj’s parents immigrated from India when he was in preschool and Julian’s parents immigrated from South Africa before Julian was born, so they bonded over their shared experiences with that. They started rooming together in their second semester because they got along so well.

This interaction is set in their fist semester rooming together, so their second semester at Uni.

Julian is now one of the few people Raj is comfortable talking to at Uni. Raj doesn’t talk much to or around people he isn’t close friends with, but he talks freely to Julian. He has always been a pretty socially anxious person, and he has undiagnosed selective mutism.

Usually Raj would avoid sick people like the plague (literally), but he cares enough about Julian that he wants to make sure he’s okay no matter what. He’ll still avoid him when he’s actually throwing up though. He’s not emetophobic, but ofc he doesn’t enjoy throwing up.

They’re both straight btw.

#original writing #emeto #my writing #oc sickfic #my inbox is open #osp originals #taking requests #osp Raj

[danafeelingsick]

ɴᴏᴠᴇᴍᴇᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 2022

@monthofsick

ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛ ʟɪsᴛ | AO3 ᴄᴏʟʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

ᴅᴀʏ 26: Multiple sickies

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 4,3k~

hi, id like to request prompt 26 (multiple characters sick) with Itto, Kuki, Heizou sick and Sara as caretaker? a stomach flu/food poisoning situation would be nice

ᴀ/ɴ i've waited the whole month for this one 😳🤓

TW EMETO

         Kujou Sara was dozing off in her office when a strange sound came from down the hallway, snapping her awake. At first, she thought someone had dumped water on the floor by accident, but listening closely to it, she noticed the faint string of coughs following the splash.

         It was far past working hours in the Tenryou commission, no one was supposed to be around anymore, not even her. But some matters still demanded the general's attention. It didn't help that she had skipped several minutes with a blink, but the scare successfully drove away all the exhaustion from her body, at least for the time being.

         Still listening to whoever it was hacking up a lung in the distance, Sara pushed out of her chair, carelessly tossing documents onto her desk in a hurry. She was already down the hallway when the near choking broke into another heavier splatter, it sounded like someone had emptied a bucket now.

         “F-Fuck…”, she heard that same person groan and cuss.

         Closer now, she could recognize the voice and sighed in frustration when she remembered the cause of her extra hours. A bothersome crimson Oni she had to keep watch, the reason why he had been apprehended since buried under the piles of documents in her office.

         “Arataki Itto!”, she called loud enough to be heard from the other side of the police station, hoping the anger in her voice would be enough to stop whatever that stupid Oni was plotting. “What was that noise?”

         He went silent for a short moment, only the sound of her wooden heels on the cold tiles and the jingle of keys on her hips could be heard. Soon the coughing resumed, more violent than before as if holding it had taken a bigger toll on his health.

         “K-Kujou Tengu, is that you?” His voice came from behind a few corners and she knew right away something was up from how disoriented he sounded.  “Ugh, d-don't come here. I just... threw up all over the floor.”

         She walked even faster, a scowl already twisting her face.

         “I swear if this is some elaborate plan for you to escape I’ll -”, she turned a corner, the pungent smell of fresh sickness immediately assaulting her nostrils.

         She found the Oni inside his holding cell like usual, but she didn’t expect to find him hunched over a puddle of steaming vomit. Her stomach flipped over when she immediately recognized the dish they had served earlier in the mess hall, now odd–colored by stomach acids and glistening with bile. The Oni acknowledged her glossy-eyed, sniffling like a scolded child when her expression darkened.

         “Plan? What are you, urp, talking about?” Itto rasped, briefly closing his mouth under the threat of another gag.

         “Y-You, ugh! Why did you have to make a mess?”, her expression twisted into anger, and she realized she had raised her voice when the Oni seemed to flinch at her. She didn’t back down. “Didn't you have a bucket or something?”

         “S-Sorry… Been asking for one”, Itto responded, his voice coming from deeper within his throat sounding like he was holding back tears. “E-Everyone just dismissed…”

         Sara is taken aback by his words, only momentarily because her disgusted expression never leaves, every time she thinks of feeling pity the smell reminds her of how disgusting that Oni can be. With an annoyed sigh she makes sure he heard, she unlocks the door to his cell and steps inside.

         “You better not try anything”, the tengu says coldly, standing over him and staring him down as silence lingers between his shuddering pants. “What are you feeling? Are you going to vomit again?”

         “Hmm… hard to tell”, he mutters, running the back of his hand under his mouth, but keeping it there when his chest hitches slightly, only a small hiccup coming through. “It feels like it, but… I haven’t eaten much.”

         “Stand up, I’ll take you to the restroom”, Kujou Sara doesn’t ask but does lean over him as she takes one of his arms and throws it over her shoulder. “Don’t forget you’re still under custody.”

         “Yeah, yeah…”, the Oni mumbles, clenching his eyes shut when the sudden motion has his stomach flipping uncomfortably. Each step to the door of his cell threatens to send him to the floor, but the tengu is surprisingly resilient as she guides him, nearly supporting all of his weight on one side. “O-Oh, man…”

         “And if you vomit on me!”, she threatens sincerely, but continues walking.

         “Can’t really guarantee that…”

         Arataki Itto manages to make it to the small station restroom when the nausea rolls back again, leaving him gagging emptily over Kujou Sara’s shoulders as she doesn’t even bother to close the door behind them. The general all but drops him in front of one of the squatting toilets, grabbing the large Oni by the sleeves of his coat when he looks like he’ll just tip forward.

         “I’m gonna puke”, he announces, just in case the green color his face takes wasn’t enough of a tell. Sara wordlessly tightens her grip on him as the Oni lunges forward with a guttural retching throat. “EeuuURRrRrrgh!”

         Itto struggles with his mouth open, his stomach clenching painfully as it fights to get more of that lumpy mixture up his throat. Through gurgling retches, he chokes up a mouthful of barely digested stomach contents, and the remnants of his meal fall to the white porcelain with a heavy splatter. Clumps of chewed-up rice, mushy vegetables, and bits of white meat swim in a thick broth of miso soup and acidic bile. Itto isn’t sure what part of it is leaving the spoiled taste on his tongue, but it only takes a few loud heaves for him to get a second serving of it.

         “You have to breathe too, Arataki Itto. You’re going to choke like that”, the tengu says as she firmly pats his back, albeit begrudgingly. Itto tries to keep it in mind as more dense vomit spews out of his mouth, but all that it amounts to is the desperate noises stuck in his throat. It sounds like he’s drowning as the spell tapers into a watery surge, but doesn’t stop until he manages to cough it all up. “There you go, see?”

         “Ugh… fuck…”, the Oni spits out, wasting the split moment he had to catch his breath before his mouth fills with vomit again.

         ***

         Shikanoin Heizou wishes he could sleep it off over his desk, or rather, the communal office all the other doushin used for various purposes, but the awful churning in his gut simply will not allow it. To think emptying his stomach onto the floor would do him any good was stupid, but even after cleaning it as best as he could, he still can’t believe he let himself do that. Now that sour smell is stuck to his nose and his mouth.

         An even worse idea was to trust the mess hall’s food for once in his life. He was sure something in his now empty plate had gone bad, but it was hard to tell when everything they served there already tasted spoiled, undercooked, or sour. Sometimes all three. Heizou felt his throat tighten at the thought, his mouth flooding with saliva, and he tried to shove the all too detailed memories to the back of his achy mind.

         The sound of the door creaking open was the thing on the forefront, and he barely raised his head, staring at the visitor through his eyelashes. Kujou Sara was standing in the doorframe, her expression as sour as his mouth tasted, something akin to murderous intent in her golden eyes, but Heizou was too out of it to even register.

         “Heizou, what are you still doing here? Your shift ended hours ago!”, she said between her teeth but went to search around the office instead of waiting for his answer.

         “Madam Kujou? Sorry, I was just... going through some cases and must've lost track of time”, he responded, hurriedly straightening himself and managing to ignore what the sudden motion did to his already queasy stomach. “I-I'll be gone in a minute."

         "Have you seen any of the cleaning supplies?" she asked over her shoulder and thankfully didn’t notice when he went pale, already choking on an answer. “Arataki Itto vomited all over his cell, can you believe that? That useless Oni!”

         “They are right there”, Heizou mumbled and pointed to the side of the desk, where a large wet spot still hadn’t dried and said supplies were scattered around it. He would’ve made himself useful and grabbed them for her, but just thinking of his own vomit soaking into the tatami floor had him trying not to gag.

         “If you’re not in a hurry”, Sara caught him halfway through the open door, and the doushin turned stiffly, his throat tense as he held back the nausea. “Can you go check on him for me? That waste of space is in the restroom. And he’s still under custody, so don’t let him out of your sight.”

         Heizou agreed shakingly, that was where he was heading already. The tengu was so busy she didn’t even bat an eye when he turned on his heels and sprinted down the hallway.

         “E-Excuse me? I’m coming in”, Heizou knocked on the door and said, hearing a large someone shuffling behind the door.

         The sour stench of vomit was the first thing the detective noticed as he stepped into the restroom, then breathing through his mouth, he saw the tall man sitting on the grimy floor, his back against the stall. He would’ve looked like a fresh corpse if not for his exposed torso, heaving rapidly as short gurgles came from within his belly.

         “S-Sorry, dude… this one’s taken”, he said, and weakly waved with his head to the toilet, filled to the brim with bubbling puke. Heizou tried not to look at it directly, instead focusing on the long red horns sprouting from the middle of his messy white hair.

         “Kujou Sara… sent me here”, he stammered, watching as the man’s shoulders kept jumping, his toned abdomen clenching incessantly as nausea bit at him too. “She told me to keep an eye on you.”

         “Mmmrff, how nice of her. EuRgHh!” Itto commented with all the sarcasm he could spare, and retched emptily over the full bowl. Chuckling dejectedly when his stomach finally gave him a break. “You can tell her I'm alright, not that she cares at all.”

         Looking at the detective from over his shoulder he noticed him trembling slightly, his hand hovering close to his middle, the other on his mouth. They were almost at eye level, with him sitting on the floor, but it was nice to have to look up at someone for a change. “Are you okay, though? You're not squeamish, right?”

         “Y-Yeah… I’m fine. I'm n-not”, Heizou lied and tried to look away, but it was already too late. Breathing through his mouth was only making his stomach more restless, he could feel the acidic burn reaching for his tongue. In desperation, thought of making a break for the sink, but he doubted there would be enough time. “Actually, c-can I…? Do you mind sharing?”

         “Sharing?”, Itto tilted his head in confusion, but it quickly dawned on him when he saw the doushin's face turning a sickly green. “You're gonna barf, alright! Here, here. Aim for the toilet.”

         With all the gentleness of a giant, Itto pulled the young man to the floor by the wrist, forcing him to kneel to not lose his balance. Just in time, Heizou pitched forward and burped a stream of stomach contents onto the toilet, most of it spilling out the sides as Itto failed to hold him in time. 

         “Fuck, take it easy”, he exclaimed, both hands closing around Heizou's sides as he nearly fell forward. He trembled violently under his touch, and mercifully another steady stream of puke erupted out of him without much struggle. “Looks like you're sick too, little guy.”

         “Mess hall… food, eurgh”, he slurred in between bouts of vomiting, unable to catch a break. Itto cocked his head to the side, trying to decipher his words. 

         Heizou was sure his whole body was in free fall as he kept spewing, everything was spinning wildly before his eyes, and he couldn't tell which way was up. But as he started slumping forward, runny puke still pouring from his lips, the Oni lifted him slightly off the ground with a short huff, just enough to plop him back down seated in the space between his legs.

         “I've got you”, he reassured, resting a big hand on his back, feeling him wince under his wait.

         Heizou was kneeling on that grimy cold floor, groaning as nausea wrecked his body, his stomach still churning relentlessly. He leaned forward, grabbing the Oni's ankles with both hands as exhaustion finally won over him. The vomiting spell quickly drained all the energy he had, but it didn't seem to be over.

         Itto slowly petted the doushin's back, trying not to look at the growing mess of the toilet because he knew it would be over for him as soon as he did. With a wet burp, Heizou produced another sizable gush of stomach contents over the rim of the toilet, coughing wetly as it tapered off into a trickle.

         The detective groaned, seemingly deflating under Oni's touch as he pulled back, bile and drool still clinging to his chin.

         “Wow, that was a lot for a guy your size”, Itto commented, still rubbing his back as the doushin grunted weakly, trying not to cough anymore. His throat was sore and achy after such a violent spell, but he still mustered a weak apology.

         “I… I'm pretty sure it was the mess hall's food”, Heizou slurred, after a moment of awkward silence.

         “It seems like it”, Itto added, peering into the full toilet and immediately looking away when the sight made him recoil. “Ugh… think you're okay to get out of here?”

         Heizou nodded weakly, not about to refuse the offer to leave that gross stall. He felt weak and sweaty like he had just run a marathon on an empty stomach, everything ached from head to toe.

         Itto got up first, grabbing onto the wall as he tried to flush the toilet, but all it did was make a deep gurgle, the layers upon layers of now cold vomit staying there, unmoving. The two just shared a tired knowing look as Itto helped the detective stand, firmly holding his shoulders when his knees seemed to nearly give out. 

         They were halfway to the door when it clicked open, none other than the Kujou Tengu stepped inside, her eyes widening as she saw the whole scene.

         “I think your guy here is sick”, Itto told her simply, pointing to the nearly unconscious Heizou he was holding under his arm.

         “By the love of… This can't be happening”, Sara blinked in surprise, pinching the bridge of her nose and letting out an exasperated sigh. “Just… Just take him to my office. Ms. Shinobu is there too.”

         “Oh, Shinobu's here? Didn't think she would come”, Itto sounded almost surprised, but just hearing a familiar name put him more at ease.

         “I'll bring some medicine for the two of you”, the tengu responded, looking at them up and down, noting how much Heizou was shaking and the sweaty mess he had become. “Some spare clothes too.”

         “Humpf, alright”, Itto huffed as he went past her, trying not to let his sudden anger show, but it was hard not to when she looked at him like he was some kind of animal.

         *** 

         “It's okay, just let it out”, Kujou Sara whispered softly, holding back moist strands of burgundy hair as Heizou dry heaved under her, struggling through the motions of unrelenting nausea.

         It took him a couple of harsh retches, but eventually, he managed to bring up a thin wave of runny vomit. Most of it was the water he had downed minutes before, slightly cloudy from the little time it spent inside him, but now littered with clumps of the food he still regretted eating.

         “I'm so sorry… urp, madam Kujou, but I told you I wouldn't be able to… guh, keep it – urGHH!”, Heizou tried, but soon he was diving back down, tears gathering in his eyes as he retched violently, bringing up yet more watery vomit onto the small bucket Sara was holding in front of him. “Ughh… guh— ...euRrrgh!”

         She didn't say a word, just kept shushing him as Heizou struggled to expel another watery surge of warm bile. Rubbing his back slowly, she could his musculature shivering, heat rolling off his skin, and rapidly drenching his spare shirt in more sweat. It broke her heart to see him like this, but not knowing from the start made her feel even more guilty.

         On the other side of the office, Kuki Shinobu had somehow managed to put the rowdy Oni to rest for a few minutes. His head was resting on her lap as she gently brushed his messy hair away from his face, his expression still pinched in disgust. An improvised container waited by her feet, thankfully empty as Itto couldn't vomit anymore than he already had.

         A soft sigh left the deputy leader's mouth, muffled by her grinning devil mask, the only barrier between her and the smell of vomit permeating the room. Admittedly she wouldn't mind if the situation had been any different, she was no stranger to caring for sick friends after all, but today her stomach was a bit unsettled being around so much sickness.

         Itto tossed in his sleep, and as noisily as his size demanded, he turned on his side and hugged his middle. His back now faced the tengu sitting across from them, doing her best to hold the sickly detective still shivering in her arms. She raised her eyes to Shinobu, giving her a sympathetic smile.

         “Is he asleep?”, Sara asked coyly, hoping for any sliver of good news.

         “Hum, I think so”, she answered after clearing her throat, dropping her gaze to look at the Oni. He certainly looked like he was sleeping, but his pained expression and the way his breath hitched slightly told her it wouldn't stay like that for long. “Did you serve anything he's allergic to?”

         “Of course not”, Sara scowled but regretted being so quick to anger at such a harmless question. “He only ate the food we serve here, and I made sure it was safe for him.”

         “I was just checking”, Shinobu responded, letting out another sigh as her stomach shuddered thinking of what could've possibly made them two so sick. She gulped a mouthful of saliva before she spoke again: “What are you planning to do now?”

         “If you think I'm just going to let him go because he's sick, then you're wrong” Kujou Sara jumped to the conclusion, her expression turning sharp the moment she looked from Shinobu to the Oni.

         His shoulders hitched slightly, almost unnoticeably, followed by a long wet gurgle coming from deep in his bruised belly. That had become normal at that point, Itto just curled further into himself, nuzzling into the comfort of Shinobu's hands. So far so good, he was managing to keep the water and medicine down, and even sleep a little on the hard tatami floor. 

         “Sara… All he's in for is a noise complaint”, the deputy leader shrugged, looking down at Itto when a weak sickly groan came from him.

         It was all the warning they got before there was a bubbling gurgle in the sleepy Oni's throat, bursting at the root of his tongue as he suddenly let out a surge of murky watery vomit. Shinobu froze in place, feeling the disgustingly hot surge cover her midriff and drip down to her thighs.

         “Boss! Boss!”, was the first thought in her mind as she heard him start to choke, but his eyes remained closed.

          Shinobu quickly rolled the Oni onto his back, frantically tapping his cheek as she tried to wake him up. He spat and gurgled, his eyes fluttering open only to go wide as he realized he couldn't breathe.

         Kujou Sara was by their side in seconds, motioning for Heizou to stay where he was as she helped push Itto into a half-sitting position. The Oni folded and broke into a violent fit of coughing, he couldn't even gag as a warning before he was covering his own lap in murky vomit. Sara was able to shove the bucket under his mouth in time to catch the next wave, holding it there as Itto emptied his stomach of what little he was able to hold. 

         Shinobu was still taken aback by the suddenness of the situation but quickly busied herself with pulling Itto's already soiled hair from the line of fire. He winced as her fingers brushed his neck, prompting her to shush him and rub slow circles on his back. It took all of her to hold back her own gagging and ignore the cold vomit now soaking into her clothes.

         “Boss, can you hear me?”, she called when he seemed to catch a break from puking, pulling a few sweat-soaked strands off his face as she peered over her shoulder. The sight of that soup-like mixture filling the bucket made her recoil. “A-Are you alright?”

         “Yeah… s-sorry about that…”, he mumbled and spat. “I thought I was empty.”

         “Hey, it's fine. Just don't scare us like that again”, Shinobu reassured, her voice trembling as her own nausea inched closer. “Try to stay awake from now on, okay?”

         “Until we're back. We'll go grab some… more spare clothes”, Kujou Sara added, raising to her feet. “Think you can be on your own?”

          “Sure, yeah. I'll be fine”, Itto reassured, giving his still-sensitive stomach a few gentle pats. And with sarcasm, he added: “You two have fun.”

         ***

         Shinobu was nearing her limit as she sat there in the dusty locker room while Sara searched for anything that could fit her. She was trembling and not because her vomit-soaked shorts were now atop a pile of dirty clothes, or the dry towel wrapped around her waist.

         Her stomach tossed uncomfortably, letting out short gurgling noises and small burps she was forced to swallow. Where she had gotten herself sick?, she had no idea. Both Itto and Heizou's sources were clear, and she was fairly sure no one had sneaked the infamous mess hall food onto her plate. If the slight suspicion she had was true, this wave of sickness had been brewing for a long time, as most of the Arataki Gang had already gone through it.

         Itto just had the bad luck of being arrested by the Tenryou commission, and poor Heizou must've gotten caught in the crossfire. As for her, bad luck and too much compassion applied.

         Shinobu hugged her middle tightly in hopes of muffling the noises coming from it, but didn't realize this only threatened to expose her condition even more. Leaning forward like that, she could already feel the bile crawling up her throat. 

         “Think you can wear this?” Sara turned with a fairly worn hakama, the same one the guards of the tenryou commission would use.

         She saw right through the worried look Shinobu responded with, her posture tense as she tried to keep herself from shivering. The tengu sighed as she up the pants aside and walked up to her. "What's wrong?”

         “Nothing's wrong”, Shinobu responded promptly, straightening her back as the woman stopped in front of her, towering over her. “I swear, I'm– ah!”

         Shinobu was sure she must've let out a yelp as Sara leaned forward and placed a hand on her forehead, evaluating the heat coming off her skin. Her expression was unreadable, but to her surprise, the tengu just shook her head, her gaze softening as she realized how tense she had gotten. 

         “You feel a little warm…”, she said softly, her hand grazing her cheek before she pulled away. “You should've told me.”

         “No, I… you needed my help”, Shinobu groaned, feeling her throat tightening. “Please, don't worry about me. I swear I can– mmm, guh.”

         Caught in her lie, Shinobu stopped talking and pressed her lips tightly, her stomach suddenly lurched, filling her mouth with bile. She tried to swallow it down, holding her mask firmly as if that could stop what was about to happen.

         Thankfully she didn't need it, because Kujou Sara gently guided her forward, holding a newfound towel under her mouth. Shinobu wanted to protest, but as she pulled away her mask she realized she was out of options.

         “It's okay”, Sara coaxed her, taking the mask off her hands and putting it aside, devoting her full attention to the sick shinobi in front of her.

         Kuki Shinobu parted her lips, trying not to make a huge mess as she burped a stream of thick vomit onto the white towel, staining it beyond repair. Her eyes were affixed on it, watching as the orangish-brown puke spread onto the fabric. It smelled horrible, but thankfully it cleared her head enough to pull back, running a hand under her mouth. 

         “I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…”, she said, fighting to swallow the following gags. Any more and she was sure Sara would bite her head off. 

         “Shh, I already said it's okay”, she whispered, and to Shinobu's surprise, none of her previous anger was in her expression. She looked tired, but still mustered a small reassuring smile. “It's going to be okay.”

         Shinobu wasn't sure if she believed it.

         ***

         True to his word, Arataki Itto kept awake until the two returned, keeping watch of Heizou as the detective tried to sleep for a bit. What he didn't expect was to see Kujou Sara, carrying a shivering Shinobu on her arms as she entered the office.

         The night couldn't get any longer.

#novemetober 2022 #nov(emeto)ber 2022 #tw vomit #genshin emeto #gen/shin imp/act #sickfic prompts #tw emeto #vomiting #emeto #gen/shin imp/act ku/ki shin/obu #ku/jou sa/ra gen/shin imp/act #gen/shin imp/act arat/aki it/to #shik/anoin hei/zou gen/shin imp/act #dana//emeto fic #my writing

[mikrokoskooks]

Would it be possible to have a fic where Jungkook has a bad stomach ache + nausea and emeto, then it gets worse to the point he asks Namjoon to drive him to the hospital?

Thank you!

Hi anon!!

Of course it would be and you're my first request/ask so tysm :) <3

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Sickie: Jungkook

Caretaker: Namjoon

TW: Emeto, mentions of vom!t and stomach aches

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

It's dance rehearsals and Jungkook really doesn't feel well.Not feeling well even seems like a understatement he felt like utter garbage. Even though he hadn't been criticised on it yet, the youngest felt like his dancing wasn't the best he could possibly do. The moment they had their break ,instead of talking like the others, he sat quietly in the corner of the room cuddling his swirling stomach as nausea stabbed the back of his throat. Namjoon had noticed that the boy had been more vacant today and he wanted to know why.

Hey Kooks" Namjoon says softly "You okay?" No response. "Jungkook?" " huh are you talking to me? " Jungkook mutters "Yeah. Are you okay you've been awfully quiet" "I'm fine hyung. I just feel a bit off." "It's your stomach isn't it, Namjoon states sympathetically, you always say you feel off when your stomach hurts."

"Yeah. Hyung can we go back to the dorm please I really don't feel well" Poor kookie, he really didn't look well. But he wasn't actually allowed to leave dance practice unless he had actually been vomiting or had a high fever according to company rules. "Aw Kookie I really wish I we could, but you know we can't leave unless you've actually been sick." Be sick. Not an issue Jungkook was had been swallowing the horrid liquid in his mouth for ages if he needed to let it out to leave he sure would.

But maybe his mind and his stomach got mixed up about his thoughts, because when Jungkook accidentally threw up on his legs he was more than surprised. That did it for Namjoon it was definitely time for the youngest to go home.

>>>

"Joonie hyung how long till we're home" Jungkook asks discreetly rubbing his stomach. "Ten minutes is that okay" Namjoon answers looking up at the rear-view mirror to see Jungkook not in response. To be completely honest it was today though the maknae was starting to feel even worse than he did at the dance studio.

His stomach had become even more aggressive and he was sure he was going for be sick again. He could see himself In the mirror and he looked horrible. Sweaty hair, pale face,his cheeks slightly red, he really really hoped that he wouldn't throw up in Namjoon'a car tha'd be be embarrassing right. But he could manage.

>>>

"Hyung how much longer..". " Hey you alright you? don't look so good" "My stomach hurts.. And I think I might be .. " Jungkook stops and swallows harshly. "..Sick but m'not gonna do it the car cause that's gross" "Jungkookie it's okay. I don't care about the car I care about you. If you have to throw up, throw up" So that's exactly what he does he would never do it by choice but he could physically keep swallowing his vomit it was beginning to hurt.

Jungkook didn't even have to gag,unpleasant looking liquid instantly spewed out of his mouth at an alarming rate. What the he'll could have gotten him this sick? "Hyung I think should go to the hospital" He choked out. Namjoon didn't have to think twice he was already making a turn in the direction of the hospital.

>>>

"Food poisoning" A doctor says to the leader "He seems to have a bad case of food poisoning. He'll be alright in a couple days as long as you let him rest up and get him to eat something" "Okay thank you doctor" Namjoon smiles bowing his head and then turns to Jungkook. "Aish, Junkookie you almost have your Hyung a heart attack I was so worried" "Sorry hyung" the youngest smiles he still feels terrible but manages to give his hyung a small hug.

I'm really sorry if this wasn't how you wanted it.

<3 hope you enjoyed

+ Sorry if this didn't make sense my brain was being silly TwT

#bts sickfic #bts emeto #sick!jungkook #caretaker!namjoon #sickfic #tw emeto ment #mentions of vomit #bts #stomach aches

[salembutnotthecat]

tw emeto, fever, character seizure, migraine, implied past trauma

decided to do more of a lore fic with novak, this was the best idea i could come up with.

"So, why are we here again?" Vanessa asked, sitting on the couch with Willow.

"Well, we were housesitting for Marina while the three of them were going to go to Seattle for the weekend," Willow said, flipping through one of her notebooks, "But, Marina called. Novak had to stay behind because he'd been sick since yesterday, I think she said."

"I see," Vanessa said, "So… why are we here?"

"To watch the house," Willow said, "Marina asked me to still come over."

"She wants you to watch Novak," Vanessa chuckled, "Why does she want you to essentially babysit a twenty six year old man?"

"Because it's Novak," Willow said, "He has a migraine, migraines have given him seizures before. She wants me here as a precaution."

"Well, then why did she go?" Vanessa asked, tilting her head, draping her legs over Willow's lap to have some physical connection to her girlfriend, without bothering her studies.

"Novak convinced her, I'm sure," Willow shrugged, "Seeing as he's banking on just having a stomach bug from hanging out with Landon, and the migraine only showed up after the fact. But, also, he doesn't exactly have a seizure every time he has a migraine or gets sick. Marina just worries, she's basically his mom. Well she is, just not on paper."

"She's not?" Vanessa asked, stunned.

Willow shook her head, "No, Novak has… a history. But it's not my place to ask."

"That's fine, maybe I can look him up in the state databases," Vanessa shrugged, "I am curious as to the story there.

"Or you could talk to him," Willow said, "Like a normal person."

"My dear," Vanessa said, "When do I ever do anything normally."

-

The soft glow of the bedside lamp barely illuminated Novak's room. It was practically the only source of light he could handle at the moment.

The migraine that had been gnawing at him all day intensified, each pulse sending waves of pain through his temples. He could feel the fever with the way he had his hand over his eyes, the heat from his forehead piercing his hand.

Novak was glad Marina and Elya weren't there. Truthfully. He hated every time he got sick when his daughter was around. His mother, too. But that was mostly because she struggled to leave him be when he wasn't feeling good. And while it was nice to have someone care, sometimes it was just too much. But he would never tell her, he loved her too much and was sure it would hurt her feelings. 

So when Marina said Willow would be there to watch the house, and Novak assumed Vanessa would be there too, he was honestly kind of relieved. Willow and Vanessa could keep each other company and if, and only if, something happened, then he would have someone there.

The biggest thing he was worried about was a seizure, for sure. Everything else he could handle alone, but it probably wasn't exactly safe for him to handle that on his own. 

The nausea that had accompanied his illness lingered persistently, a relentless companion that threatened to overwhelm him at any moment. Novak lay on his bed, the room spinning around him as he battled the dual assault of the migraine and the persistent sickness.

The blankets felt oppressive, trapping both the fever and the discomfort within their folds. Novak, desperate for some relief, pushed them off his body, seeking solace in the coolness of the room. He vaguely remembered cracking his window before the worst of it happened. It was spring, the weather was nice. So, why not. That was his thought. Besides, the fresh air might help, it usually did.

And yet, his stomach churned, warning him of an impending bout of sickness. Novak rushed to the bathroom, his steps unsteady as he made his way to the toilet. The sound of retching echoed through the quiet house as Novak struggled with the relentless nausea. It hurt, now. The effort of vomiting made his head hurt worse and he's hardly drank anything since the worst of it started, so he was mostly out of anything to purge. And yet, there he was.

After the wave of nausea and retching passed, Novak dragged himself off the bathroom floor. The migraine persisted, throbbing with each heartbeat, and his body felt weak and unsteady. 

He took tentative steps toward the living room, hoping the proximity to Willow and Vanessa would offer some sense of security. At the very least, maybe a change of scenery would be a little better for him, even just psychologically.

Vanessa was on her phone, Willow was studying, the TV was on, but quiet. They were comfortable, Novak saw them. 

"Hey, Novak, feeling any better?" Willow asked, her eyes scanning his face for signs of improvement.

Novak managed a weak nod, attempting a reassuring smile. "Trying to... thought being out here might help."

Vanessa offered a sympathetic smile, sensing his discomfort. "Do you need anything? Water, maybe?"

"Yeah, water sounds good," Novak replied, "But, I'll get it… I've been in bed pretty much all day, moving might help…"

As he struggled to stand, that was when it hit him. The pain form the migraine, the exertion from the sickness, all of it hit him. Novak's vision blurred, and his legs gave way beneath him. Before he could comprehend what was happening, he collapsed to the floor, his body convulsing with the onset of a seizure.

Willow and Vanessa sprang into action, their respective training kicking in. Vanessa was up first, pulling the coffee table away from Novak, and the chair Novak was sitting in. Willow quickly assessed the situation, gauging the duration of the seizure while Vanessa monitored Novak's vital signs.

It wasn't long, and after around a minute later, the seizure subsided, leaving Novak disoriented and exhausted on the floor. Willow knelt down, her knees toward the top on his head. Vanessa helped Willow roll Novak to his side.

"Novak, can you hear me?" Willow asked gently, checking his responsiveness once his eyes were open, "Hey, Ness, can you text Marina..?"

Novak blinked, his breathing shaky, like he just ran some drills on the field, trying to focus on Willow's voice. "Yeah, I... what just happened?"

"You had a seizure," Willow explained calmly. "It might be related to the intensity of your illness and the migraine. We're here to help, but we might need to keep a close eye on you for a bit longer."

Vanessa nodded in agreement, setting Willow's phone down, "We should monitor you for a while, Novak. Once you're more oriented we can get you on the couch..."

Novak just nodded, trying to come back to his senses.

-

Vanessa sat beside Novak, her gaze focused on him as she engaged in a conversation to gauge his responsiveness. Willow, attentive to his physical condition, periodically checked his vitals.

"Novak, can you tell me about your childhood? What was it like growing up?" Vanessa inquired, her tone gentle.

Novak, still feeling the lingering effects of the seizure, took a moment to collect his thoughts. "I became a foster child when I was six. Went through about eight different homes before I ended up with Marina when I was sixteen."

Vanessa nodded, encouraging him to continue. "That must have been a tough journey. What changed when you went to live with Marina?"

A faint smile touched Novak's lips as he reminisced. "Everything changed. Marina was the first person who made me feel like I belonged somewhere. She's been like a mother to me."

"That's wonderful. And how did you get into football?" Vanessa prompted, trying to keep the conversation flowing.

"Started playing when I was twelve. One of my foster dads, Santiago, suggested it. Turned out, I had a knack for it," Novak explained, his eyes reflecting the passion he held for the sport.

Vanessa then delved into a more personal topic. "Tell me about Elya. How did she come into your life?"

Novak's expression softened as he spoke about his daughter. "Elya was born when I was twenty. Her mother, Alyssa, was... not the best person. Did some bad things. I ended up with Elya. Didn't plan for herr, didn't want a child that soon, I was twenty years old. I was playing college football and had dreams of going professional on top of schooling, but I don't like to say I didn't want Elya, I just wasn't planning on her."

"That's admirable. How has being a father influenced your decisions, like transferring to play for the Mavericks?" Vanessa inquired, wanting to understand the motivations that shaped Novak's life.

Novak took a deep breath, reflecting on his journey. "I was playing for a team in New York, but I transferred to the Mavericks to be closer to home. I wanted to raise Elya in a stable environment, give her the family I never had growing up."

"What did you study in school?" Vanessa asked.

Novak chuckled, "So you are a police officer, got it. You ask questions like an interrogation."

"It's habit, but I am curious," Vanessa said.

"I was a double major," Novak said, "Sports management and generalized marketing."

"What did you want to do?" Vanessa asked, "If not professional football."

"Team management, or marketing for a football team, or other professional sports organization," Novak said, "Sports is my life."

Vanessa smiled at Novak's response, appreciating his dedication to the world of sports. "It sounds like you've always had a strong connection to athletics. Did you have any role models growing up in the sports world?"

Novak nodded, the memories bringing a nostalgic glint to his eyes. "Yeah, my foster dad Santiago was a big influence. He played college football and always believed in my potential. He pushed me to join the team, and I'm grateful for that."

As the conversation continued, Novak's responses remained coherent, his gaze steady. Willow silently monitored his vital signs, finding comfort in the positive signs of his recovery. Vanessa's questions shifted towards lighter topics, aiming to keep the atmosphere relaxed.

"Do you have any hobbies outside of football?" Vanessa inquired, trying to draw out more facets of Novak's personality.

Novak chuckled, a hint of amusement coloring his voice. "Not much time for hobbies with football and being a dad, but I do enjoy cooking when I can. It's a nice way to unwind."

"Any signature dishes?" Vanessa asked, genuinely interested.

Novak smiled, "Marina taught me a lot about what I cook, so lots of Eastern European cuisine, I think she used to be a chef before she moved here to be an artist, I make pretty good kyselo, I also make some mean pierogi, but nothing fascinating."

"That all sounds amazing," Willow said, "One more question."

"Okay, shoot," Novak nodded.

"Not related to your family history, but medical," Willow said, "Do those seizures happen often?"

Novak shook his head, "Not really. Once every few months, usually as a pain response. I'm not epileptic and I;ve never had seizures outside of times of unmedicated severe migraines, so…"

"Okay," Willow nodded, "I'm going to grab you some medicine and some water, and we can just.. Take it easy tonight, alright? Marina said her and Elya will be home tomorrow…"

#emeto #emeto fic #emeto tw #emeto cw #sickfic #fever cw #fever tw

[comfortjoonie]

PART TWO!

here's part two of the namjoon sickfic requested by @kaisah09 !

hope you enjoy. part one is my most recent post!

tw: emeto, sickness, yelling

Namjoon was sleeping for almost all of the ride to the interview.  No one had expected it – they assumed he’d just get horribly carsick.  But he was able to sleep, and Jungkook was able to put enough foundation on him so that he looked normal.  No one wanted to wake him up when they arrived, but they had to.  Again, they helped him out of the car and into their seats in the interview room.  The interviewer was already there.

“Are we ready to get started, then?” he asked in Japanese, and Namjoon translated for the rest of the members, who nodded.  All of Namjoon’s dongsaengs watched in awe as Namjoon gave the approval for the livestream to start.  He was so sick, but he was incredible at hiding it and acting like a leader when he needed to.

Namjoon answered the questions smoothly, translating back and forth.  He badly wanted to put a hand over his aching stomach, but he couldn’t.  Aching wasn’t even the right word, though.  HIs stomach was trying to kill him.  The pain was so overwhelming that his vision was blurry.  But he pushed on.

Until the interviewer asked a question, and Namjoon wasn’t able to respond.  He couldn’t process it.  The only thing he could think about was the pain.

“Kim-san,” the interviewer said.  “Are you going to answer the question?  You’re the leader after all, right?”  Namjoon squeezed his eyes shut.

“Sorry, what was the question?”

The interviewer laughed.  “You know, for a leader, you can be kind of absentminded at times.  Pay more attention for your members.”  Namjoon swallowed and translated for his members.  He watched as Yoongi’s face grew to fury. 

“Sorry.  Can you just repeat the question?” Namjoon asked.

The interviewer nodded and repeated it, but halfway through it, Namjoon moaned and doubled over in pain.  “Kim-san, focus,” the interviewer said, this time in Korean.

Yoongi stood up.  “We’re going home.”  He didn’t care if it was a livestream.  This interviewer was making Namjoon’s life so much worse, embarrassing him on livestream, and Yoongi wouldn’t have it.  Namjoon put his head in his hands, trying not to cry.

“Wait–” the interviewer said in Korean.  

“I said, we’re going home.  Don’t talk to me,” Yoongi snarled at the interviewer, and everyone stood up with him besides Namjoon.  Jin approached Namjoon and helped him up, bringing his head out of his hands and wrapping his arms around himself and Jungkook.

Namjoon tried to walk, but he was so shaky and dizzy that he couldn’t.  The world was spinning.  The nausea was rising fast.  “B-bathroom,” he mumbled.  

The interviewer pointed down at the hall.  Yoongi shot him one last glare, and Jimin mouthed a “thank you”.  Everyone followed Namjoon, Jungkook, and Seokjin down the hall and to the bathroom.  They placed Namjoon in front of the toilet, and he started vomiting instantly.  Somehow, there was more left.  He was coughing, sputtering, and crying in between gags, and Seokjin winced every time.  His face turned white, even showing through the foundation, and he vomited more every time with each gag.  Everyone but Seokjin was too shocked and frozen to comfort Namjoon.  Jin patted his back and whispered words of comfort to him.  It went on for what felt like forever.  Every time Namjoon could catch a two minute break, he’d come back gagging harder.  At least 20 minutes had passed before Seokjin decided it needed to end.

“Ok, Namjoonie.  We’re done.  You’re gonna hurt yourself if you keep doing this.”  He flushed the toilet, and Namjoon sobbed.  “Sh, it’s ok Nam.  We’re gonna go home now.”  Namjoon nodded and Seokjin wiped his mouth with a tissue before helping him up again.

They were only three steps out of the building before the cameras started flashing and the paparazzi were crowding their leader.  “Aish,” Yoongi muttered.  “Just don’t look.  Keep your eyes forward.  Don’t answer any questions.”

Namjoon tried not to sob.  How much more embarrassing could this get?  He was barely able to walk, completely leaning on Seokjin and Jungkook, until his stomach cramped the worst yet and he started to collapse.  Seokjin and Jungkook were able to keep him on his feet, but Namjoon was sobbing again in pain.  “Taehyung, put him on your back,” Seokjin instructed, and Taehyung did so.  He could feel Namjoon shaking with sobs against his back, and he tried his best not to cry with him.  He could already see the articles: BTS’s leader storms out of interview after an emotional breakdown, Kim Namjoon was carried to the car by his members after a fit of injury or sickness, BTS member breaks down in tears outside of interview… he couldn’t stand to think about it.  The car was already waiting for them, and Taehyung opened the door.  There was no time to think or debate seating arrangements. He placed Namjoon in the middle row of the limo with him.  Everyone else followed, climbing into the car.

“To the dorms?” the driver said.

“Yes,” Seokjin said.  It was only a twenty minute drive, but it felt longer with everyone’s eyes on Namjoon.  He was shaking and pale, and if he wasn’t sitting, they’d be scared he’d collapse at any moment and seriously injure himself.  Namjoon’s eyes were open, staring at nothing in particular, and an arm was crossed over his stomach.  He didn’t look bloated or nauseous anymore, just uncomfortable and in pain.  Which was a huge improvement.  But what confidence and order he’d had during the interview had disappeared completely, leaving an empty and exhausted Namjoon.

Yoongi was still seething with anger over the interviewer.  No one should talk to Namjoon like that, when he worked so hard, even through such bad sickness – it wasn’t fair.  He knew Namjoon probably wasn’t mad, but he was.  He’d be giving the managers a piece of his mind for hiring someone like that.

But for now, he needed to take care of Namjoon.  He rubbed Namjoon’s shoulder gently.  “How are you feeling?”

Namjoon inhaled.  “It hurts.”  Yoongi frowned. 

“I know, Joon.  We’ll give you some more painkillers back at the dorms.”

“Yeah, hyung,” Jimin chimed in.  “We’ll get you some more medicine too.”  Namjoon nodded slowly, exhaustedly.  

“I’m tired.”

“You can sleep.”

Namjoon shook his head.  “It hurts too much.” Jimin sighed.

“You can just rest your head on Taehyung’s shoulder for the ride, right, Tae?”  Taehyung nodded, and Namjoon rested his head, sighing softly.  Taehyung patted his head.  The car was still so tense with worry in the maknae line and anger in the hyung line.  Namjoon was in the middle of it all, and he felt guilty for both sides.

When the car pulled up, Namjoon surprisingly seemed to be more at peace.  But it went away as soon as he stood up again.  Tears poked at his eyes.  He couldn’t get over the pain, it was the worst he’d ever had.  This was the worst part about food poisoning.  He was lifted onto Taehyung’s back again and carried all the way to his bed as Jin grabbed him painkillers.  He gently put them in his dongsaeng’s mouth and Namjoon chewed and swallowed.

“I’ll go get some plain broth,” Jimin said, and Taehyung and Jungkook followed.  

“Seokjin-hyung, I need to talk to you outside quickly,” Yoongi said.  Namjoon glanced with worry, but Hoseok smiled at him. 

“It’s ok, they’ll be back.”  The two oldest walked out of the room, but Namjoon could still hear them whisper-shouting.  Yoongi was insisting that the company should find a way for the interviewer to get fired, but Jin didn’t want revenge.  He wanted to keep everything as quiet as possible.  Hoseok rubbed Namjoon’s shoulder.

“Do you feel any better?  Not nauseous anymore?” he asked, and Namjoon nodded.

“Just hurts,” he said softly.

Hoseok looked at his watch.  “The painkillers should work soon.  Then you can sleep.”  The 94-liners sat in silence for a few seconds until they heard shouting.  Namjoon squeezed his eyes shut.

“Hyung, I TOLD you this already, and you didn’t listen to me.  You’re just like that interviewer, you know?  You won’t even stand up for Nam–”

“Do NOT talk to me like that.  You’re being dramatic and protective.  It was just a mistake–”

  “It WASN’T a mistake.  He embarrassed Namjoon!  He embarrassed my best friend when he was vulnerable!  He needs to be fired–”

“YOU need to calm down.” Jin lowered his voice.  “This will all work out in the end.  If you don’t calm down right now, I’m kicking you out of the dorm.  Namjoon does not need this stress-”

“Kick me out of the dorm?! Are you–”

Namjoon put his head down.  “It’s ok, Joon.  They’re not mad at you,” Hoseok said.

“It’s my fault.”

“No, it’s not.”

Hoseok was interrupted by a loud shout. 

“I will kick you out of this dorm whenever the hell I want, I am your SUPERIOR–”

“Oh, so you’re right because you’re older?  I’ve known Namjoon longer than you have, and I know that–” “I know that you better watch your damn mouth Yoongi before I make sure that you don’t get to speak to Namjoon until he’s better.”

“You can’t do that–”

“YES I CAN!” There was a long pause.  “You will not talk to me this way.  Ever again.  You will go inside, you will help Namjoon get changed into his pajamas, and you will NOT speak to me until you’re ready to respect your hyung.”

They heard the slam of a door and a loud sigh before footsteps walked away.  Namjoon was still looking down.  What had he done?  That was the angriest he’d ever heard Jin before.  And it was his fault.

When Jin walked back in, he had a smile on his face.  “How are we feeling?”  Namjoon felt awkward talking to him after that crazy argument that Seokjin had no idea he heard.

Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook walked in with the bowl of broth and a spoon.  “Where’s Yoongi?” Jimin asked.

“He’s in his room.  He’s just resting for a bit, he’ll be back,” Jin lied.

“Oh. Alright.”  Jimin handed the bowl to Namjoon, and Namjoon took a sip.  “Good?”  Namjoon nodded.  For the first time today, eating didn’t make him feel nauseous.

Yoongi walked back in while Namjoon was still sipping the bowl, and he came back with a smile.  “You should change when you’re done with that, Namjoon.”

Namjoon got about halfway through the bowl, nodding, but that was when Seokjin gently took it from him.  “You can’t drink all that, you might be sick again.  Just get some rest for now, ok?”

Namjoon nodded.  “I can try.”

#sickfic #bts #kpopsickfic #bts sickfic #namjoon sickfic #sick!namjoon #emeto #tw emeto #sick namjoon #caretaker!Yoongi #caretaker!taehyung #caretaker!seokjin #caretaker!jungkook #caretaker!hoseok #caretaker!jimin #stomachache #fanfiction #bts fanfiction #namjoon fanfiction #comfortjoonie

[sicjimin]

Heyy can you write jikook with sickie jimin? Something involving mpreg where they both go to hobis album listening party and jimin is not drinking because he knows but hasn't told jungkook yet but his sickness gives it away

There's this clip in the MV sketch where they're together bent over towards each other and it would be cute if jimin is anxious and unsure about being pregnant when his solo album is due but jungkook consoles him

a.n : AAAHHH finally i can finish this one. I've been so excited to write this when i first got this prompt in my asks box but my brain just worked now .. thank you so much for this amazing prompt I REALLY LOVE THIS !! i hope my writing makes up for that ..

TW : emeto, mpreg

Jungkook shifts on his seat anxiously, as his eyes trail over the older that just came back from the bathroom—eyes red-rimmed and teary, with one hand hovering over his stomach.

"Hyung, are you okay?", Jungkook asks. He doesn't care if the makeup artists got annoyed with him. He just wants to make sure his boyfriend is okay.

Jimin smiles weakly, sniffling, "Yes, i'm fine, Kook-ah. Just threw up a little"

"It's not fine then", Jungkook frowns, "You want to go home?"

Jimin's eyes widens, "Yah! It's Hobi-hyung party, what are you saying?!"

"But you're sick!!"

"I'm not!"

"You are! You have been throwing up since 2 days ago, and now too!", Jungkook huffs—starts getting annoyed, like, why is it so hard for Jimin to rest? He's just worried!

Jimin sighs at the remarks, gulping down a lump forming in his throat—that Jungkook only knows he got sick for 2 days, while he had been vomiting back and forth since last week.

"I'm sorry, but i am really fine, Kook", he smiles, reaching out to holds the younger tattoed hands—rubbing it gently with his thumbs.

"You sure?"

Jimin hums, ruffling the younger hair that has gotten long, "I am, beside that, you will always with me, right?"

***

Pregnancy sucks—that's what Jimin has concluded for the past weeks he had been dealing with all-time nausea and lots of vomiting.

He inhales, taking a sip of water in his hand and focusing his gaze on the city lights outside—trying to ignore the changing colors of lights and thumping noises from the music.

If this had been a different situation—Jimin would definitely gonna be on the dancing floor, or talking to any of the guests here. But here he is, on the secluded corner and busy counting his breath so he doesn't lose to nausea pooling in his stomach.

Jimin moves his fingers—pressing them tightly over his lips as his shoulder jolts with the quiet gag.

"Hi, love"

Someone hugs him from behind.

"Hi, Kookie", Jimin greets him back after swallowing profusely to get rid of saliva that had been pooling in his mouth. "Where have you been?"

"With Hobi-hyung and Taehyungie-hyung", Jungkook answers, taking a sip of the drink in his hand, before his gaze falls down to Jimin's drink. "Water? Do you want me to fetch you drink hyung?"

Jimin's eyes widen, "No no no, i will drink later"

"The Park Jimin? Not drinking immediately when the party starts?", Jungkook teases

"Yah!", Jimin pouts, swatting the younger, "You make me looks like an alcoholic"

Jungkook chuckles, "Aren't you?"

"Yah! tease me one more time, i won't g—", Jimin pauses mid-sentence, clamping his hand over his lips when a sudden rush of nausea crashes over him. He shuts his eyes, ignoring Jungkook's call and worried gaze over him.

"Hyung? Are you okay?"

Jimin shakes his head, letting out an airy gag. His breath starts to pick its pace. He gulps, taking a big gulp of brea—"Hyung!", Jungkook yells when he bent forward, heaving over his palm as his body rejects every attempt to quell nausea. Vomit shoots up to his throat.

"I want to puke", Jimin mumbles behind his clamped hand. He knows that Jungkook wouldn't make out what he's saying between the loud music, but he sees his boyfriend nod, and secure his tight over Jimin's hunched body, slowly guiding him toward the bathroom.

"Few steps again hyung", Jungkook murmurs, holding the bathroom door open with one hand, when Jimin gags for the second time during their short trip to the bathroom.

Jimin can't register what his boyfriend says as his eyes catch a sight of the bathroom. It feels like his body has let loose its control—knowing that it's safe to let out everything they have been holding back. A guttural deep gag echoes through the empty bathroom as Jimin runs to one of the stalls, slamming the seat open just in time as water pours from his lips. He didn't get time to suck a breath when his stomach caved in, giving a bigger stream of more water out from his body—leaving Jimin almost diving into the bowl, coughing as some of it even got out from his nose.

"Hyungie .. breathe", Jungkook chatters beside him, his hand massaging the older nape. Jimin nods, before his mouth opens wider, a burp comes out then followed by a mouthful of vomit—this time it becomes thicker as it seems his stomach still has something to leave to squish out even though he hadn't eaten anything since the last time he throws up. He squeezes his palm harder against his stomach—to fasten the process. He just want everything out and the nausea subsided as soon as possible.

"Uurrkk—"

"Sshh, breathe love, you're doing great"

"That's it, let it out"

That's all they could hear for a solid 5 minutes—Jimin's retching, followed by the sound of liquid filling the bowl, with Jungkook's soft voices drowning in between them.

"I think i'm done ...", Jimin croaked out, sniffling as he slowly straighten his body—staring blankly at the mess below him. White porcelain has coated in a pale yellow substance. He could feel Jungkook press a soft kiss on his neck, before moving around to fetch the toilet paper and flush the toilet.

"What's wrong?", the younger finally asks, trailing behind Jimin as he walks to the sink and rinses his mouth. " Don't say you're fine or just a stomach bug or .. whatever you have told me before hyung"

Jimin gulps. He didn't have to turn around to know what expression his Jungkookie has right now.

He swirls the water in his mouth slowly, before spitting it into the sink and letting it wash the bland and bitter aftertaste in his mouth.

"Hyungie .."

Jimin turns around. He knows he looks like a mess right now—still sniffling as his nose still runny, eyes teary and red ... "I'm having morning sickness, Kook-ah"

"I told you to not gave me the s—what?", Jungkook's eyes widen. " Morning what?"

Jimin chuckles wetly, "I'm pregnant, love", he whispers, " That's why i have been vomiting a lot"

"How ..?"

"5 weeks", Jimin looks down, looking at his shaky hands that hover on his stomach—he chuckles when he realized that he did that unconsciously.

"And you didn't tell me .. for that long? Why?"

"Don't get a wrong idea, Kook", Jimin looks up, gulping down anxiety that starts rising in his throat. It's making him nauseous again—and the sadness that clearly reflected in his boyfriend's eyes did not help this case. This is it .. Jungkook gonna be disappointed in him.

Jimin closes his eyes, taking a generous amount of fresh air into his lungs. "I don't mean any harm by not telling you .. i guess i wasn't ready by myself", he starts. He didn't even realize that he starts squeezing his shirt tight—crumpling it under his grip if Jungkook didn't prey his hand away, holding it, " Slowly hyung .. don't squeeze our baby here, hm?"

Jimin chuckles, "When i found out, i was so scared. You know i meant to release my album after Hobi-hyung, right?"

"I know", Jungkook squeeze his hand gently. " But you also know that it didn't have to be so soon, you can still take you-"

"But what about you? The rest? Yoongi-hyung? Taehyungie? Namjoon-hyung that comes after me? I can't trail off too long because it will ruin the time plan. If i do it at my pace what if i can't? i barely can make it out of the apartment door without puking my guts out, how can i—", Jimin rambles. All the dark thoughts, doubt, and anxiety that had been chirping in his brain poured out.

"Hyungie .. love, breathe"

Jimin sucks a deep breath, shuddering when he realized how he had worked up himself. His stomach churned.

"I just ... being pregnant is really the last thing i need right now", Jimin exhales, "I don't know how to keep every plan i have made right now. My morning sickness has gotten so bad. I don't even think i can dance or go through the recording without a hatch", he continues, closing his eyes as he fans himself, " Gosh .. even talking a lot like this making me nauseous", he groans, biting his lips.

"Feeling sick again?", Jungkook asks softly.

Jimin nods, before pulling himself away from Jungkook's holds, "Give me a minute", he manages to croak out before a gag interrupts—having him jogs to the stall again.

Jungkook sighs, shutting his eyes as his mind feels jumbled—the news and the sound of Jimin's newfound vomiting session filling all his senses ...

"My throat hurts .. i only threw up bile and water", Jimin whines when he stepped out of the stall after few moments. He threw himself to the younger, hiding his face on his crooks. " 'm sorry .. this must be a lot to you"

Jungkook huffs, running his free hand over the older black-highlighted locks, "What are you saying ..", he presses a kiss, before peeling himself so he can see the older eyes. He chuckles fondly when he sees a pout framing Jimin's pale lips, " I'm happy .. we gonna have an addition in our apartment. Bam gonna have someone to play with"

"Our baby gonna cry if they see Bam", Jimin mumbles. His voice still rasps after all the vomiting.

"They might ..", Jungkook hums, " But everything will be fine hyungie .. one step at time, okay? You will explode if you think everything at once", he says. Jimin's heart swells at how soft and gentle Jungkook's tone is on him right now, "And you don't have to figure out everything by yourself. I'm here .. hyungs are here too. Just focus on our baby and your health, okay?"

Jimin smiles, burying his face in Jungkook's crooks again. "How are you ... always know what to say ..", he mumbles shyly, gaining a chuckle from the latter.

"Let's go home? I don't think you're up to going back there again", Jungkook offers, which got an enthusiastic nod from the older. "Yes please .. nausea hasn't eased up yet .. unless Hobi-hyung wants someone to clean up if i hurl there .. then.."

"Let's not pissed off Hobi-hyung", Jungkook mumbles as they stepped out of the bathroom. " Can you wait in our changing room? I will say goodbye to the hyungs and fetch you there"

Jimin nods, "Asks for some plastic bags too, Kookie .."

"What for?", Jungkook frowns at the request before everything clicks, " Aah .. okay. Is it gonna be an essential in my car now?"

#bts sickfic #bts emeto #tw emeto #tw vomit #sick!jimin #caretaker!jungkook #and again another mpreg fic