#Stomach Bug

[danafeelingsick]

having soft thoughts of a sickie feeling guilty about puking up all the food caretaker made for them with so much love and care:

sickie having to maintain appearances, even as their poor stomach revolts agaisnt the heavy meal sitting inside it

sickie who can't help but grimace at the sight/smell/texture of the food, which makes caretaker think they might've messed it up

sickie clutching/hugging their middle as they try their hardest not to puke, thinking of the smile caretaker had on as they watched them eat, thinking they finally were starting to recover

sickie who has a hand clasped over their mouth, holding it tight to keep the food in no matter what, even to the protests of caretaker who's trying to tell them to just let it out, don't try to hold it

sickie who ends up losing the barely digested food over the blankets, sobbing apologies to a caretaker who's more worried about their well-being than anything else

#emetophilia #emeto #vomiting #tw vomit #tw emeto #sickfic prompts #sickfic ideas #emeto fic #emeto prompts #sick scenario #sicknario #stomach bug #nausea #sickfic starters #stomach ache whump #sick whump #emeto scenario #caretaker prompts #sickie prompts #sickee prompts #emeto prompt #emeto kink

[bellysoupset]

Ahh love Max already! 😍 Would love a part 2 with Vince driving and taking him home, him just being so dazed and nauseous the whole time

Typed at the speed of light, part 2!

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Max wasn't sure which way was up and he was fine with it. As far as he was concerned, he really didn't need to move for the rest of his days. Not when every single movement caused his stomach to surge up his throat and his belly to complain loudly.

There was a noise outside of the nurse's inner office and Max forced the eye that wasn't currently pressed to the thin pillow to open. His sight was blurry and it took him a minute to realize that the giant at the door certainly wasn't the insufferable school nurse, Mrs. Doyle.

"How are you?" Vince's voice was soft, but it still felt like his whole head was gonna explode from the tone. Max curled up, pulling his knees to his chest and shivered violently.

"Dying."

Vince chuckled at that, "yeah, okay-" he crossed the room and Max let out a groan as he felt the guy's huge hands on his arms, forcing him to sit up.

The movement made his head swim and the blonde let out a groan as his spine all but gave up on him, his face mushing on Vince's chest.

At least the guy was quite comfy, Max thought sleepily, sinking into his warmth-

"Hey," Vince patted his cheeks, "wake up, c'mon."

"Gonna hurl," Max groaned, grimacing at the patting sensation and forcing his eyes open again, "my gutssmessed up."

Vince snorted, "I really don't think you have anything left to puke. Where are your car keys?"

"You robbing me?" Max frowned, beyond confused and Vince's eyebrows took a dip at the middle, before they cleared up.

"No, you idiot, I have a motorcycle. I can't drive you home on that."

"Ah," Max nodded, then pressed his forehead to Vince's shoulder again and let out a heavy sigh as he felt the nausea come back up, "you should... move."

"Car keys?" Vince squeezed his nape and Max let out a little burp, feeling his whole body jostle with a hiccup.

"Ba-AG!" He hiccupped mid sentence and let out a groan as the act brought up another burp and with it the taste of his lunch. He knew having lunch was a mistake when his belly had already been super unsettled in the morning, but Max had simply blamed that on five beers he had had the previous night.

Alcohol always messed up his gut, he had no idea why he continued to drink it. But then again, almost everything in excess messed up his insides, he was used to it by now.

"In the bag... Teacher's lounge..." Max squeezed his eyes shut and gulped down as he felt his mouth fill up with spit and his tongue curl. He let out a little moan, feeling hot all over and then retched, his stomach squeezing painfully.

Nothing came up, but that didn't stop his body from trying again and again.

"Yeah, I got his address with Shelley," Vince's voice drifted through the open door that led to the front of Mrs. Doyle's office, "unless he moved and didn't notify the school, I know how to get there."

The nurse answered something, but Max couldn't hear her as yet another heave hit him and this time he did manage to bring up some meager amount of bile. He whined, opening his eyes and letting out a relieved sigh as he realized Monacelli had put the trash bin between his legs.

"Alright," the other teacher said, walking back in the room, "let's go."

"Can't- can't-" he gulped down twice, in order to force just the words up and not more stomach lining, "can'tmove."

"I can carry you," Vince opened a smug smile and Max' ears burned with embarrassment and humiliation. The fucking asshole was enjoying himself.

"GoUrp-" he interrupted himself with another retch and dived for the trashcan between his knees, coughing and heaving until a weak splash of chunky vomit fell inside of it. Max let out a groan, feeling utterly humiliated, "please, just kill me."

"Are you done?" Vince asked, ignoring his whining and Max gulped down, forcing up a little burp and then nodded.

"For now... Don't feel empty thought..."

"How in the hell?" Vince frowned, but stepped closer and pushed the large trashcan out from between Max's legs and then grabbed the other man by the waist, pulling him to stand up, "let's just get you in the car, okay?"

Max ducked his head and closed his eyes, vertigo be damned, as Vince pulled him into the hallway. His feverish mind kept flashing back to the classroom and the fact he had gotten ill in front of all his seniors. He was so fucked.

He hoped he could get a whole week off, because there was no way he'd be able to face the kids just tomorrow.

"Alright," Vince patted his shoulder and suddenly Max's body was put gently against cold metal, "you good to sit in the car?"

"Are you a doctor...?" Max forced his eyes to open and rubbed angrily at his forehead. Monacelli was fucking fretting over him and they didn't even know each other. For the second time even!

"What?"

"You're all over me," he cleared up, "were you a doctor in the army? What's up?"

Vince's eyebrows raised, "I'm... I'm being a decent person?" he cocked his head, "you don't have anyone to pick you up and you hurled all over and you're burning up. You'd rather I called a cab and that's it?"

Max frowned, feeling a jolt of annoyance. He knew he had no one to come get him, he really didn't need to be reminded of that.

"Yeah," he scoffed and Vince rolled his eyes.

"Get inside the fucking car."

"This is kidnap," Max groaned, but did fall into the passenger seat and closed his eyes, "you're kidnapping me as revenge for breaking your arm."

Vince chuckled at that, the sound too loud in the cramped space of Max's pick-up. He slammed his door shut, "oh yeah, all I ever wanted was to kidnap my middle school bully."

Max groaned at the word bully. He had been called this before, you didn't stay in the same town your entire life and not deal with the fact you had made some kids' life hell. He was aware he had been more than just a prick when he was 12, but that didn't make him feel any better.

At least most of the kids he had bullied had either moved out or forgiven him. Some of them were parents whose kids he taught now and that made parent-teacher nights extra awkward, but only fucking Monacelli was his coworker.

"I'm really sorry about that," Max grumbled, pressing his overheated forehead to the window and gulping down as the car movement made him even queasier, "and today."

"Today's not really your fault," he could hear Vince shrugging, "so you live here all alone? What's up with that?"

Max frowned, wiped the sweat that was collecting over his lip and lowered his window to get some cold air and hopefully push back the nausea, "it's not- It's not all alone," his stomach turned and he breathed carefully through his mouth, "my mom lives here still. Dad next town over."

"It's just you? No siblings?" Vince wasn't bothering to hide his curiosity and Max shook his head, planting his sweaty hands on the dashboard of the car and glaring at his boots. Someone had wiped them clean, probably the janitor. There was a big dark wet spot at the toes.

"No, it's just me."

Vince didn't say what he was thinking but Max really didn't need him to. He had been a teacher to Sophia and Livia for the past three years. He was well aware the Monacelli family was as tight as they came. Hell, he had heard about Vince before ever meeting him, the football star who got himself a full ride, who was now coming back to be a teacher.

Their principal, Fernanda, a woman in her early forties who had an upbeat, hip attitude, and was entirely the reason for Max getting hired in the first place, had been terrible eager about the new history teacher.

Max thought Vince's entire concept was so fucking annoying.

The car took another turn and his stomach sloshed, gurgled audibly and caused Vince to squeeze his arm, "you holding up?"

He nodded, blowing out a burp under his breath and gulping down the stomach acid trying to creep up, "how much more?"

"I think we're here..." The car slowed down, but didn't stop and Max looked up. They were in his shitty street alright, his tiny two bedroom just at the end of the street.

"Just over there," he pointed and Vince hummed, picking up some speed.

As soon as Vince parked, Max pushed the door open and heaved in the gutter. He coughed and coughed, until more bright yellow bile splattered in the dry leaves, grabbing on the door handle with all his force to keep from falling out of the car.

"Jesus," Vince thumped his back softly, "get it up, man."

"Hurtss..." Max groaned, as his throat and stomach ached something fierce. He really wanted to be knocked out.

"Let's get you inside with some water, c'mon," Vince jumped from the car and circled it quickly, in order to help him out. Max slapped his hand away the second he felt steadier on his feet.

He wasn't a total invalid, this was just a flu. A terrible, biblical-plague levels, stomach flu, but just a flu.

The blonde stumbled for the door, pressing his forehead to the wood and breathing deeply as he tried to make his hands stop shaking in order to unlock it.

"Give me that," Vince snatched his keys with a scoff, "and stop making my life harder."

"G'away," Max mumbled, thumping his forehead to the door, "you can go now."

"Get in bed and drink some water and I'll go," Vince shoved him forward unceremoniously when Max made no movement to get inside upon the door unlocking, "go."

Max groaned at the shove and stumbled in, falling against the couch. He had no strength to make it to his bed, even if that wasn't far at all given the fact his apartment was as tiny as they came.

He rolled on his back and watched Monacelli look around, wrinkling his nose in a judgmental manner and causing Max to scowl, "you're an ass."

"And this place looks like a cave," Vince shrugged, ignoring the insult and shoving the living room curtains open, forcing in some sunlight. He walked around, his giant form feeling completely out of place in such a cramped space, "where do you keep your meds?"

"Get out of my house," Max groaned, but his eyes were heavy once more. He shuddered as a wave of revulsion hit him and rushed to roll on his side, but there really wasn't anything else in his belly, not even water to bring up.

Instead he dry heaved until his ears were ringing and the couch felt like it was swimming. A huge hand grabbed his chin, then his nape- Then a cold glass pressed to his mouth and he almost choked with relief, drinking it greedily- Only for the glass to be removed.

"You'll make yourself sick," Vince sighed, crouching next to the couch, "lets see if this stays down."

"Why are you herestill...?" Max mumbled, curling up and feeling Vince pull on his shoes.

"I'm asking myself that," Vince scoffed, then Max winced as he felt the other man drape a blanket over him, "get some sleep."

"You're so weird, man," Max sighed, letting sleep pull him down, "no self preservation."

#sickfic #mywriting #max daniels #stomach flu #emeto #emetophilia #stomach bug

[jurassicsickfics]

Subtle Things That Can Indicate A Character is About To Throw Up: A Prompt List

1: Holding their stomach (a lovely classic!)

2: Puking a little in their mouth and swallowing it

3: Leaning forward a little in their seat, either to try and relieve stomach pain, preparing to puke, or both

4: Frantically checking around the room for the closest bathroom, sink, trashcan, etc.

5: Casually bumping or scooting a trashcan closer to where they'll be sitting

6: Burping alot

7: Suddenly going very quiet and still when they've been lively until that moment

8: Being suddenly and uncharacteristically clingy and or needy to a friend or partner

9: Frantic fidgeting and pressing nausea acupressure points

10: Suddenly shaking and looking like they're about to cry

#sick characters #sickfic ideas #sickfic prompts #sicknario #sickfic #emeto prompt #puke prompts #vomit prompts #throw up #warning signs #belly ache #stomach bug

[pmak2002]

There was something peaceful about laying on the bathroom floor with your sickly husband asleep on top of you.

He had a terrible stomach bug that had been keeping him up all night. You enjoyed the quiet that had finally settled in your small bathroom.

You laid awake as you played with Timothee’s sweaty curls.

You were grateful that he was finally able to get some rest. He had been miserable all day and now he was up during the night too.

You peppered kisses on his head and hummed to yourself. You could hear the sounds of NYC outside the window of the apartment building.

Timothee’s stomach gurgled uncomfortably as he laid ontop of you. Only wearing tank top and shorts as he was sweating buckets.

You rub his back and coax out a few burps and farts from him. His normally slim body was bloated from gas and it made him miserable and uncomfortable. Despite the bed made from multiple blankets and pillows on the floor next to you.

Timothee had rolled over to lay on you instead. He only wanted to be held while he slept. So you were stuck until his body decided it needed to purge itself. Thankfully he had been asleep for a while and you hoped it stayed that way.

You don't know how long you are out for. But when you wake up Timothee has gotten up groaning in pain clutching his stomach. He looks at you eyes glassy and tired.

His stomach making horrifically loud noises that sound like they really hurt.

timothee groans and rushes over to the toilet to have bad diarrhea, his shorts around his ankles and his whole body shakes from the effort of expelling watery waste.

You frown and go to kneel next to the toilet where Timothee removes his hand from his stomach to grab yours and place it where it hurts the most. You immediately begin to rub and gently massage his bloated belly.

“Hurting!” Timothee groans with each cramp.

“I know lovey I’m sorry.” You say. You gently massage his bloated stomach until he feels empty and has nothing left to expel out his backside.

You help him clean up and flush away his mess. Then help him return to the pile of pillows and blankets on the floor.

As soon as you sit down though he's on your lap whimpering and shaking. You frown as he's clearly becoming delirious from the high fever.

“Shh it’s alright you’re ok I’ve got you.” You say gently as you hold him in your arms. He buries his face in your neck.

Work had been a lot and he was so exhausted and in a way it was good that his body was forcing him to rest.

Of course he was absolutely miserable and in pain. That sucked but he needed all the rest he could get and now that he was sick. He could rest.

Timothee whines and nuzzles you.

You hold him tight and kiss his head. his stomach gurgling and bubbling as he sits on your lap. You use your other hand to gently massage his stomach.

You sit like this for a while holding him and trying to help him relax despite the pain in his belly. soon hes nauseous and leaning over the toiket burping up whatever is left in his stomach which isn't much of anything.

He whimpers and coughs as he spits into the toilet. You rub his back and stomach trying to help him find any relief from the aches in his gut.

"Why does it still hurt when I have nothing left?" He cries.

“I wish I knew.” You reply. You grab toilet paper to wipe his mouth. After tossing out the tissue you go and lay down on the floor with the blankets and pillows that were supposed to be for Timothee. He lays down on you like earlier and you wrap your arms around him and kiss his head.

“Time to sleep mon armor.” You say.

He yawns and you grab a blanket to pull over the both of you.

He sighs heavily and his entire body seems to finally relax and he falls asleep on you once again. You play with his hair until you fall asleep too.

#timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet fanfiction #Timothee chalamet sickfic #sickfic #stomach bug #fever #tw vomit #diarrhea #tw scat mention #scat tw #stomachache #stomach flu #caretaking #fever whump #bloated stomach #timothée chalamet x reader

[noroviruses]

i have no idea if it was a bug, my broken digestive system, or if i ate something I'm allergic to, but yesterday was ROUGH

i woke up super nauseous, scrambled to take an anti nausea pill, and had to run to the toilet to have a little diarrhea. the cramps were AWFUL, and when i was done i just laid on my heating pad being miserable (but vaguely turned on because, you know, kinks).

a couple hours later it was time for round 2, but as soon as i sat down i realized i needed to puke and had to go get a bowl to do it in. I threw up on the floor while trying to get the bowl out of the cupboard, shit myself just a little, and puked the whole way back to the bathroom while clenching for dear life. it was all water and mint tea and a bit of the soup I'd had for dinner, and after i finished vomiting i was stuck on the toilet for a good 10 minutes shitting my brains out. i ended up getting straight in the shower after.

i didn't get sick again, but for the rest of the day i was achy and feverish and nauseous, and I'm still not 100% today.

#stomach bug #emetophilia #diarrhea #messing #belly kink

[mmmeto]

Tummy flu this weekend 🤢

Would share audio that I took but it’s not really anything good, to be honest. Either way, figured you guys might wanna hear the run-down of this weekend’s stomach bug.

I believe it started Friday night with a bit of an upset stomach. My head was hurting too, so I brushed it off as a lack of water or too much fried food (I work fast food, so free meal = fried shit lol). Woke up Saturday morning feeling twice as bad, and my belly had gone from hurting and upset to outright queasy. I had a full 8-hour shift starting early morning to mid-afternoon, so I simply chugged some water and worked through it. At that point, I didn’t think I was actually sick, but… well, I should’ve.

Cue the end of my shift. I ate a little something afterwards because why not, right? Went home and went straight to bed, since I was pretty exhausted. Woke up a few hours later and felt very, very nauseous. Dinner was made by family, so I tried to eat some. God, there’s where my mistake was.

The next few hours were pretty rough, to be honest. I was lying in bed with an awful, gurgly belly, gas buildup and nausea both really bad. A few times I got up for the bathroom, but the most that ever happened was some awful gas that did little to make me feel better. It was so embarrassing, sitting there and hugging my belly, hoping things would settle.

Things didn’t settle well after that, and all morning yesterday (Sunday) I was feeling suuuper rough. Lots of diarrhea, a bit of acid reflux or vomit, not really sure which. Stomach was a mess, couldn’t stop burping or… y’know, otherwise. I was in and out of the bathroom, lying in bed for most of it, too. The trash bin by my bedside didn’t really get used, but boy, was I glad to have it there just in case.

Woke up this morning feeling alright, thankfully. Managed to eat a bit and have been drinking water, and I haven’t had much issue. At least, nothing worth mentioning. I think the worst of it’s over with, but man… it was a rough go for a bit there.

Not sure if I’ll have audio to post, gonna have to relook at what I’ve got and see what can be done with it. It’s not even that good of quality, which is disappointing, so we’ll see.

#emeto #emetophilia #irl emeto #irl vomit #stomach flu #stomach bug

[wordsmithwhumpsandfluff]

hear me out, first date where Aiden is like "surely a movie then dinner cannot go wrong, right?" WRONG. Spirit starts the date super awkward but cute, but she's actually more at ease halfway through the movie...only for her stomach not to be and then by the time dinner rolls in she's feeling so bad, she's shutting him off and Aiden, who's not aware she's feeling sick, is just? 😭 i thought we had a thing?

But then he catches up w/ what's going on, be it bc she tells him or because she gets sick 🙈🙈🙈

Here it is, ladies and gents

Thanks to @bellysoupset for this ask!!😊

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“One small regular coffee,” Spirit said, pulling out her wallet. It was an old little thing, brown and made of leather that was wearing away after so many years of use. Many years.

“Any cream or sugar?” the girl taking orders asked in a bubbly voice, her long blonde hair swishing in a ponytail.

Spirit shook her head, well aware that cream and sugar was an extra charge, and she was fine with black coffee.

“Two dollars,” the girl said.

Spirit opened her wallet and fished out a wad of crinkled dollars. She went through twenties and tens, trying to find two one-dollar bills.

“Here.”

Spirit froze, looking to her side and seeing Aiden handing four dollars to the girl. “And I’ll have whatever she ordered.”

The bubbly girl nodded, taking the money and printing a receipt. She handed it to Spirit. “We’ll call your name when it’s ready.”

Spirit didn’t say a word, nodding and taking the receipt. She stepped out of line, went to an empty table, and without sitting down she turned and asked Aiden, “Where the hell did you pop out of?!”

He smiled and shrugged.

Spirit shook her head, sitting. “I swear to God, you just spawn out of nowhere every fucking time we run into each other. You’re like a goddamn NPC or something.”

He laughed at that, sitting down in the other chair at the table. “Are you saying you don’t like running into me?”

Spirit’s cheeks warmed, and she tried to hide it with a half-hearted scowl.

It wasn’t a busy day at the coffee shop, and with such a simple order, Spirit’s name was called.

She stood, got the two coffees, and went back to the table.

“Thank you,” Aiden said when Spirit handed his coffee to him.

She shrugged. “I should thank you. You didn’t have to buy my coffee for me.”

He waved off the thanks. “I didn’t mind.” Just then, he took at sip of his coffee and his whole body went rigid, his face twisting in a weird grimace that made Spirit snort.

“Not a fan of bitter black coffee?” she asked, amused.

He shook his head, his face remaining disgusted but turning more normal.

Spirit took a sip of hers with ease. “So, why exactly did you buy my coffee?”

He shrugged. But then he said, “I wanted to talk to you.”

Spirit raised a brow. “About what?”

This time, it was his face that turned warm. A warm blush spread on his cheeks. “I was wondering. . . well, I’ve been wanting to ask you for a while, and say no if you really aren’t interested because I don’t want you to say ‘yes’ just to be nice—though you don’t seem like the kind of person who would say ‘yes’ just to be nice. . . I mean, I’m not saying you don’t look nice! Y-you look really nice, and I—”

“Aiden, spit it out. You’re rambling.”

“Will you go out with me?”

The words made Spirit’s heart leap, though the flustered rant gave her a hint as to what he was going to ask. Still though, actually hearing the words made Spirit feel butterflies in her stomach—a feeling that was so new to her that she found it uncomfortable.

Aiden was right. Spirit was not the type of person to say ‘yes’ just to be nice. If her answer is no, she says no.

But she opened her mouth and said, “Yes.”

— — —

Spirit had no idea what to wear.

A quick search of ‘first date outfits’ only brought up pictures of girls in pretty dresses and miniskirts. Completely not her style. And she didn’t want to tell her friends about this date—not even Birdie—so she had no help.

She wound up showing up to the movie theater in jean cargo pants, a green t-shirt, and a black bomber jacket. It wasn’t a girl’s typical first date outfit, but if this dude wanted a date with Spirit, he was gonna have a date with the real Spirit.

Aiden had been legitimately shocked when Spirit said yes. He couldn’t stop smiling dorkily as he asked her to the movies on Saturday night.

He asked her out on Friday. Now it was Saturday. The sky was orange with the setting sun, and Spirit saw Aiden standing against the wall outside the movie theater. She was relieved to see he was also pretty casual, wearing grey jeans and a black t-shirt.

“Hey”, he said when she approached him, his glasses perched on top of his head like sunglasses. “So, what movies do you like? Old, new, comedy, horror, fantasy, wholesome. . ?”

Spirit shrugged, feeling a little awkward and tense. “I don’t know. Whatever you want.”

Aiden smirked. “I like everything, so I’m not picky. C’mon, what kind of movies do you like?”

Spirit stayed quiet for a second. Then said, “I love horror.”

“Perfect,” Aiden grinned. “There’s a showing of Imaginary. It’s the one with the—”

“Creepy and evil teddy bear?” Spirit finished for him.

He nodded. “Exactly. And wanna grab some dinner after?”

Spirit accepted.

The two of them made their way inside the theater. Aiden bought two tickets, and they agreed on seats in the back of the theater so there was no chance of people kicking their seats and they could have a good view.

Aiden bought a couple of popcorn buckets and two DrPepper drinks, giving one of each to Spirit, and they made their way to the theater room.

Aiden chatted while the adds played, and Spirit went along with it. “So where are you from?” Aiden asked.

“Here,” Spirit said simply. “I used to live in Drexel Park.”

“Really?” Aiden asked, brow raised. “Isn’t that area a little sketchy? With high crime rates?”

Spirit shrugged. “A bit. But what about you?”

“Malibu,” he answered.

Spirit smirked. “Nice. But crime rates are high there, too.”

He nodded. “Yeah. My dad used to be a cop. He got in an accident and doesn’t work with the police anymore, but he always tells me about the kind of stuff he saw as a cop.”

“Is that why you major in criminal justice?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

They talked throughout all of the adds, and quieted when the movie started. But they were talking again before too long.

A little kid somewhere in the front had started screaming and bawling his eyes out when the first scary moment happened. Spirit had to force herself not to cackle. Aiden wasn’t as reserved and was trying his best to chuckle as quietly as he could. He leaned a little closer to Spirit and whispered, “That poor kid will be traumatized for the rest of his childhood.”

Spirit’s smile widened. “Right?! What kind of parent brings a little kid to a movie about an evil and demonic teddy bear?”

A parent in the row ahead of them cast a glare their way—an embarrassed flush on her face—before standing and leaving the theater with her daughter who looked about nine. The little girl looked horrified.

Spirit and Aiden looked at each other before smiling and snickering together.

Throughout the rest of the movie, they exchanged whispers and laughed whenever one of them flinched or if they flinched together.

The tension and nervousness had rolled off of Spirit by the time the movie was halfway through. She was having a good time, even if that feeling of butterflies hadn’t left her gut. Even earlier when she wasn’t with Aiden, she felt those butterflies.

By the time the movie ended, Spirit’s gut was still feeling weird. Even a little bit achy.

“That was. . . holy fucking wow,” Aiden said as the lights came on in the theater.

Spirit smirked at his words, rolling her eyes. “How eloquently put.”

He smiled at her. “So, what’re you thinking for dinner. Italian? Chinese food? Greasy burgers? Dumpster diving?”

Spirit cringed at the poor joke. “Um. . . maybe some Italian food.”

“Perfect,” Aiden said, standing.

Aiden continued to talk as they left the theater and the building, but Spirit stayed quiet because now that the movie was over, she was aware of just how off her stomach felt.

The butterflies, she realized, felt more like an uncomfortable churning in her stomach.

Aiden was oblivious, still talking about the movie as they made their way to the parking lot.

“Wanna share a ride, or take our own cars separately?”

Spirit took a second too long to process the question, too focused on her stomach. “Oh. I’ll take my own car. Where’re we meeting?”

“Tavolino,” he said. “See ya there.”

He went to his car, and Spirit made her way to hers. Once in the driver seat of her car, she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Her gut felt weird, and she truthfully did not want to go to dinner. She thought about texting Aiden and telling him as much, but truth be told, she was enjoying the date and really didn’t want to cancel on him.

So she sucked it up. Tavolino was a pretty well-known place, and it wasn’t far from the theater. Aiden got there first.

Spirit still tried to put on a smile, but with each passing minute, she just felt more sick to her stomach. She didn’t talk as much. When ordering a drink, she just asked for some water since she felt too nauseous for anything else.

“Do you like reading?” Aiden asked her. Spirit only nodded in response to that question, her mouth pressed to a thin line. Aiden felt his stomach sink a little at that.

“Do you have a favorite book? Or genre?”

Spirit seemed to not hear him, glaring down at the menu. Aiden felt his blood run cold. Had he done something wrong? He thought everything was going well.

“Um, Spirit? You okay?”

She looked up, still not smiling and even looking a little bothered. She sighed. “I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m just. . .” Her gut churned even more. She was gonna be sick. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

She abruptly stood from the table, and felt a pang of guilt at the hurt look on Aiden’s face. She didn’t want to leave, but she couldn’t stay. She’d rather leave on the first date than throw up on the guy she’s on the date with.

She all but bolted out of the restaurant and went around the corner of the building, doubling over and taking deep breaths with her arms hugging her gut.

She gagged and coughed. And then heard someone call her name.

Aiden was just around the corner, calling her name. He could probably see her car, so he probably knew she hadn’t left. Suddenly, he came around the corner and saw her, and his eyes widened. “You’re sick?”

Spirit’s face grew hot with embarrassment and shame. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t wanna ruin the date. I guess I kinda did that anyway, though.” A wet, sick burp came from her throat, tasing like DrPepper and buttered popcorn. She gagged, and her hand shakily went to her hair. She pulled it out of her face and tied her hair into a bun.

She gagged again, and this time she brought up everything in her stomach. It was awful, to say the least. Here she was, on her first date, puking in front of the guy who made her flustered and weak in the knees. She wanted to punch something.

Suddenly, she felt a large hand on her back. “Okay. Just get it up; you’ll feel better.”

It was painful, throwing up what was a whole tup of popcorn and a giant drink of very sweet soda. Her head was spinning and she felt like she was gonna collapse at any moment. Aiden’s hand made its way around her and he was helping her to stay on her feet. “I’ve got you,” he said.

She continued to throw up for a painful fifteen minutes. When her gut was through with her, she stood up straight and pressed her back to the wall of the restaurant, feeling pathetic with tears in her eyes, snot running from her nose and vomit on her chin.

Worst. Date. Ever.

Spirit looked at Aiden, who seemed very worried about her. He shouldn’t be, she thought. I ruined this date. I was going to leave him here.

“You okay?” Aiden asked, sounding so concerned.

Spirit sighed, wiping snot and vomit off her face with the back of her hand. “I’m fine,” she answered stiffly.

Aiden frowned at the coldness of her voice. “You okay to drive?” he asked.

Spirit nodded. “Like I said, I’m fine. It’s probably just a bug.”

“Okay,” he said, looking disappointed. “I had a good time tonight.”

Spirit’s heart grew heavier. She felt like she’d messed up the whole date. “Can we reschedule?” she asked hopefully.

Aiden’s disappointment faded a bit. “What?”

“Another date, another time,” Spirit said. “Hopefully I won’t have a bug next time.”

Aiden perked up a bit. “So, you want there to be a next time?”

Spirit smiled softly. “If you want there to be, then absolutely.”

He grinned. “Okay. It’s a date. Here, gimmie your phone.”

Spirit handed her phone to him, and he put his number on it. “There. Now you have my number,” he said. “And I really wanna get to that second date, so don’t die from this bug, please.”

Spirit snorted. “No promises.”

#thebrilliantidiots #first date #spirit x aiden #stomach bug #sickfic #Aiden is a puppy dog - I swear😭 #Spirit is telling NO ONE

[ionlyloveyouwhenyouresick]

well im back and better than ever with sickie scenarios.

and by that i mean i have finally lived the dream (to an extent) as my bf has had a stomach bug this week.

sooooo,

storytime:

sunday:

we woke up at his parents house because him and his brother were going hunting, they said they’d be back by 10 so we could go home. he was supposed to wake me up when he got back. 1 pm came around and i woke up madder than hell because we had to leave BY 10 am. i woke him up quickly and told him to get in the car. i noticed he looked kind of off but i passed it off as him working 3 days straight while going hunting in between mixed with staying up all night. he was just exhausted. we got home later that evening and he admitted he didn’t feel well. i told him to lay down, took his temp (101 f), and asked him what was wrong. he told me his head, ribs, and ears hurt and he was sneezing and coughing. i passed it off as sinuses (it went from 80 f to 30 f overnight here). he took some tylenol and went to sleep.

monday:

we woke up and we both went to town to do some grocery shopping and errands. we were going to take him to the dr to make sure he didn’t have covid/ flu/ strep, but he doesn’t have medicaid and it was expensive. so we said never mind and went on home. from there it got worse. fast forwards a couple hours and i was cleaning the kitchen when he ran across the hall to the bathroom. 20 minutes later he came out, sweaty and pale, not feeling good at all, grabbed a pair of pants and changed. i asked what happen and poor baby didn’t get to make it to the bathroom on time. i felt terrible. i laid down in the bed and he immediately laid his head on my chest, groaning and reaching for my hand to place on his stomach. he now admitted his stomach was hurting really bad. underneath my hand, all i could feel was gurgles and growling. after a while i could start hearing the gurgles and growls as well, followed by a low groan that he’d let out every so often. i felt horrible for him. throughout the rest of the day, his fever rose, getting up to 103f, and he was in and out of the bathroom constantly. eventually we went to sleep but he woke me up at 2 am by turning the lights on. he had an accident again, a couple of times, before he even had the energy to change clothes. his stomach was at a constant growl at this point and he was sweating badly. i had never seen him so sick before. he was crying, from embarrassment and from the fact he felt absolutely terrible. but i got him back to sleep by rubbing his belly and placing my cold hands on his forehead.

tuesday:

i stayed up all night in case he needed me, even tho i was so exhausted and wanted nothing more but to sleep. he tossed and turned all night, an occasional but loud gurgle coming from his stomach. he woke up at about 8 am, clearly in pain, and ran to the bathroom a few times more until i gave him some stomach medicine to try to calm it down. it worked after about an hour. he told me he wanted ice water (which was weird as he NEVER drinks water) so i made him some. he drank two sips before immediately grabbing the trash can (which i had luckily just cleaned out and sat next to the bed). he hiccuped and burped a few times before a stream of water came out. he’d never thrown up in front of me before, he’d always made it a point to go outside to puke so i wouldn’t watch him. it doesn’t help he has a very weak stomach and an emetophobe. he groaned and put the garbage can down, starting to move back onto the bed to lay down. but he didn’t even get leaned all the way back up before he moved his head back over the bucket and threw up again. i rubbed his back in small circles the whole time with one hand, while i held his hair back with the other. luckily he said afterwards his stomach didn’t hurt and he felt fine. at this point he’d been fever free for 24 hours. at around 9 pm, he started getting sick again. he came back in the room after a bathroom trip, rubbing his obviously achy belly, and saying that every time he went to stand up to come back in the room, he’d have to sit right back down and go again. after a couple times of doing that he says his stomach no longer hurt (except for just a tiny bit to where it’s uncomfy but not pain) he said he’s completely emptied his stomach at this point and he didn’t think he could go anymore even if his stomach was hurting. but the good thing (and bad thing) i will say during all this, is that this whole time, his appetite hasn’t changed and he has continued eating everything he sees lol.

at the moment it’s 11 pm on tuesday, we are sitting here in bed playing angry birds while i gently rub his slightly achy belly, no gurgles or growls, no sweating and no fever so far. i will update tomorrow!

wednesday:

he slept all night, didn’t wake up once. he went to town with me today to run errands, and did great. no stomach pain, no being sick, no fever. he’s ate several things throughout the day without being sick or any stomach pain. just a little discomfort but nothing major. he’s had acid reflux problems today (but that’s a normal thing for him) but nothing serious at all. all day he’s been hyper and full of energy, which is completely opposite from how he’s been the past few days. it makes me so happy to see him back to his usual self.

update :/

he was so close to 24 hours symptom free until about an hour ago when he got sick again. but luckily no stomach pain or anything else.

we have officially figured out a diagnosis!

monday he did in fact have a 24 stomach bug HOWEVER we’ve narrowed down the small tummy problems to him most likely being lactose intolerant, gonna test him in a couple of weeks by cutting out his dairy intake and then eating it again to see what happens and i’ll update then!

#i love you so pls don’t get sick #but also i love you so pls get sick #boyfriend #sickness kink #stomach bug #puke #stomach ache

[angstyaches]

If you're taking requests can you do an Autumn sickfic. One where she's confused, running fever and vomiting

This is going to be in two parts because I wanted to include Autumn at college and Autumn being cared for by Payton, but it was a bit impossible to make both happen at once!

CW: vague mentions of diarrhea, sickness, family issues, stubborn sickie, emeto, vomiting in public, embarrassment, confusion, crying.

___

“Morning, baby! You’re – are you still in bed?”

“Yeah. I think I’m going to take a sick day,” Autumn said with a sigh. She was curled up on her side, arm outstretched with the side of her phone braced against the mattress. The duvet was tucked under her chin, and would have been pulled all the way up to her cheekbones had she not known it would muffle her voice.

On the screen, Payton was wearing their headphones and walking beneath the low-reaching branches that lined the sidewalks in the nice parts of town. Autumn could see the pale, bright sky behind their head. Their one-sided bangs kept flopping heavily over their eye, no matter how many times they tried to tuck them away behind their ear.

“Aw,” Payton frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Just… stomach stuff,” Autumn shrugged, wriggling her shoulders a little deeper under the duvet. She debated saying more, but decided to leave it at that, unless they asked. Payton didn’t need to hear about Autumn’s unfortunate nocturnal toilet adventures first thing in the morning.

“Aw, your belly hurts?”

Autumn nodded, cheek nuzzling against her pillow. That wasn’t a lie; just an incomplete truth. Her guts were in absolute disarray for some reason or another, and her stomach was twisting into knots with what was either nausea or hunger.

If she could figure out which it was, she might have felt like she had a slightly better handle on the situation.

“I have to open and close today,” Payton sighed. “If I was getting off any earlier, I’d offer to come around –”

“That’s okay, baby,” Autumn smiled. She hoped the smile would cover up the fact that even if Payton had been free, she wouldn’t have wanted them to drop by anyway. Not here. She dropped the smile again. “But who the heck talked you into working such a long shift? That’s not fair.”

“It’s fine,” Payton smiled, and Autumn got the feeling that their smile was hiding almost as much as hers was.

“Who?” she asked again.

“Annie, but –”

“P.”

“I need the money anyway.” Payton shook their head. “And don’t change the subject. Are you sure you’re going to be okay? Your mum’s at home with you, right?”

“She is.” Another incomplete truth. Autumn’s mum being home didn’t necessarily equate to any great help. But there was water in the taps, and a blanket on her bed, and that was all she could really see herself needing.

She swallowed. “Payton, if Annie doesn’t stop power abusing you, I really think you should –”

“Baby!” Payton whined, their grin even wider now. When their emotions swelled, so did their grin. It should have frustrated Autumn to no end, but instead, the sight of their smiling face never failed to fill her with joy. “Stop trying to take care of me, and take care of yourself. Just for one day. One day! That’s all I’m asking.”

Autumn sighed.

“Well?”

“Alright,” she said, though she had every intention of broaching the subject again as soon as there was no good reason for Payton to stop her.

Payton had stopped walking. Autumn recognised the sliver of red brick façade over their shoulder. “I’m about to open up. I can keep you on chat while I’m counting up the registers –”

Autumn shook her head. “I don’t want you to make a mistake and get in trouble.”

Their cheek gave a grateful twitch. “Still looking out for me, I see, but I’ll let it go. Get some sleep, okay?”

Autumn planted a hand on her stomach under the duvet, palm circling over the dull, burbling ache. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

“Well, I’m going to.” With their free hand, Payton made a little megaphone next to their mouth. “Get some sleep!”

Autumn couldn’t resist a smile at that. “Really?”

“Love you, bye…” Payton blew a kiss towards the camera.

“Bye, baby, love you.” Autumn slid her hand from her belly so she could give a little wave.

“Okay, one more time – get some sleep!” Payton babbled directly before hanging up.

Autumn was still smiling to herself as she slid a little lower in bed, settling in, phone still in her hands. She needed to message her college friends and tell them she couldn’t make it to class or to rehearsal today. Then she needed to email her professors so that they knew she was sick, and not just dodging their lectures.

She needed to –

“Mmph,” Autumn winced, curling up a little tighter as a sharp pain jabbed at her stomach. She tucked her phone under her pillow and flung back the duvet, gently getting her feet to the floor and easing herself up as she had at least four times during the night.

She was really feeling the disruptions to her sleep on top of everything else; her head was spinning, her shoulders and back were spasming dully, and she had to put out a hand to stop herself careening sideways into her dresser.

And wow, did her stomach ache. She worked the heel of her hand into her belly as she opened her bedroom door and started across the landing to the bathroom.

“Autumn!”

Goosebumps rippled up her arms. She turned around to see that her mother was halfway up the stairs, hair pulled back, wearing an astonished expression.

“Why are you still in your pyjamas?” Autumn’s mother demanded, eyeing, in particular, the fluffy socks on her feet. Autumn generally kept it a secret that she wore socks to bed, since it was the kind of thing her parents said was only for old people.

“I actually…”

As she soaked in her mother’s expectant gaze, the thought of calling in sick and spending the day at home suddenly didn’t make Autumn feel relieved. It made her feel hot. Hotter than she’d already been feeling.

Now that she thought about it, she didn’t feel all too bad.

“I slept through my alarm,” she babbled in the rushed tone of someone without much time to spare for chitchat. “It’s fine, I just need to brush my teeth and get dressed, and I’ll be out of here.”

“What about breakfast? The most important meal of the day?”

Autumn swore she felt her stomach gurgle in protest just at the thought of food. “It’s okay, I’m meeting Leigh and Dixon before our first class.”

“For breakfast?”

Autumn hated lying. Hated it. “Mmhmm?”

Her mum looked up at the faded floral clock on the hallway wall. “Better get a move on, then, darling, or you’ll definitely be late.”

“Yeah, I know.” Autumn cleared her throat and hurried towards the bathroom.

___

“Two sandwiches today?” Dixon chuckled, ducking down into their usual spot on the floor outside the student theatre.

Autumn found herself smiling at him, enjoying the fact that she didn’t have to wonder whether he was food-shaming her or just curious. They ate lunch together a lot, so it was perfectly fine that he had noticed something was different.

“I ended up skipping breakfast this morning.” Autumn took a bite from her ham-and-cheese. She also had a chicken-and-stuffing, still in the packaging, sitting on the floor next to her leg.

Next to Dixon, Leigh nodded deeply. She’d already been given this same explanation, since she’d had the unfortunate privilege of listening to Autumn’s stomach growl throughout their morning classes. After a bout of nausea on the tram, Autumn had started feeling spectacularly better, and was starving by the time she was seated in her first lecture.

Leigh was currently jabbing at her usual salad with her usual bamboo fork. “Honestly, Autumn, you’re a fucking hero for lasting this long.”

Autumn took another mouthful of her sandwich, exactly how she imagined a hero would have taken the same bite.

“I would die without my breakfast,” Leigh murmured.

Dixon gave an exasperated laugh. “A smoothie is not breakfast.”

“Yes, it is, and we are not having this argument again.” Leigh leaned her shoulder into Dixon’s side, and the contact made him blush and look away from her. It was all Autumn could do not to punch each of them in the leg out of delighted frustration. Could they not just kiss and get it over with?

“Well, I didn’t mean to skip it,” she said with a shrug. “My stomach wasn’t feeling right when I got up.”

“Ah. Was your dinner spicy last night?” Dixon hid his mouth with his hand as he chewed and swallowed. “The day after eating anything spicy, I always wake up with a bad tummy.”

“Oh, charming,” Leigh cut in.

“What? All I said was –”

“Enough information, Dixon, we’re eating!”

As she chewed another mouthful of her sandwich, Autumn ventured a guilty glance at her phone. There were two messages from Payton, one of them a GIF she couldn’t view without opening it, one of them reading ‘hope you’re okay, baby x”. She still hadn’t told them that she’d gone to college, let alone that she was staying after classes to rehearse for DramSoc’s production of Beauty and the Beast. She had been put in the chorus this time, but if it hadn’t been for that, she wouldn’t have made friends with Dixon, and wouldn’t have gotten close with Leigh – the production’s Mrs. Potts – so Autumn couldn’t complain too much.

“Eleven minutes to two,” Dixon muttered, mouth full of food as he checked his watch.

“Shit.” Leigh shovelled a huge forkful of leaves and cranberries into her mouth, unfolded her legs, and reached for her backpack. “Come on, let’s eat and walk.”

Dixon let out a groan.

Leigh gave a shrug as she rocked onto the soles of her feet and glided up in a graceful squat. “Does either of you want Maeve to yell at you for being late?”

Autumn and Dixon shared a glance before getting to their feet.

___

Autumn winced as she leaned forward to tighten the laces of her left character shoe. She was a little bloated – though whether that was thanks to her stomach’s morning upset, or her skipped meal, or the extra sandwich she’d gulped down in about four bites whilst half-walking, half-running to the Drama Soc. theatre. She’d worn one of her floatier dresses today, meaning it didn’t push on her stomach at all, but she did regret wearing tights. It would have been better to have risked cold legs, rather than endure the elastic waistband that was trying to bite into her flesh.

She attempted to shimmy it into a comfier position as she straightened back up.

“All good?” Dixon asked softly from behind her, and she nodded without turning her head. She tugged at the collar of her blouse, feeling that same smothering wave of heat she’d gotten in the hallway that morning.

The backing track to Be Our Guest started up, and even though everyone in the wings had already been waiting for it, they still jolted to a deeper level of attention, Autumn included.

As she was stepping onto the stage, her character shoes might as well have been stilts; every movement felt like it might topple her. Her hurried lunch gurgled within the walls of her stomach, some of it feeling like it might have gotten stuck in her gullet en route. Sweat prickled the sides of her neck and she wished she’d had some more water before joining the others in the wings. The time-worn floorboards swirled and dipped beneath her as she moved, and seemed to drift up closer to her face every time she blinked.

She didn’t so much prance to her position on stage as she did totter, and the next girl down the row – Aimee – caught her in the ribs with an elbow as she turned on the spot. Entirely Autumn’s fault, of course, for missing her mark. Aimee didn’t even look at her, didn’t miss a beat.

Autumn teetered backwards a few steps, only stopping when she felt Dixon’s hands on her shoulders.

He gently spun her around, which wasn’t in the choreography. His face came into focus just for a second. “Autumn? Are you –?”

Autumn’s stilts – no, her character shoes – no, her actual legs gave out under her, and the stage lights seemed to flash right into the back of her skull, and her stomach sank like a stone, and then everything seemed to go quiet.

For about three seconds.

The first thing she heard was “is she okay?” from an indiscernible voice among the chorus.

And the next thing she heard was a harrowing retch that came from the back of her own throat. Shrieks and squeals broke out across the stage as the chorus disbanded.

Barely-digested chunks of sandwich – she really hadn’t chewed all that well – came gushing out of her, soaking her knees and dripping all around Dixon’s ankles. He wasn’t holding her by the shoulders anymore, and he’d taken a step back to avoid being headbutted in the stomach while Autumn gasped and gagged, but after that, he seemed to have frozen to the spot.

And the music cut out to angered shouts from Maeve. Probably wondering why her chorus had all retreated to the wings. “What? What’s happened, what’s going on?”

“Autumn,” Dixon murmured, “are you –?”

Whatever his question was, Autumn didn’t hear it over the ringing in her ears as her mouth stretched open again, and hot, thick vomit came shooting out of her. She could feel the muscular contractions all the way down past her belly button, as though her body couldn’t have possibly been trying harder to rid itself of its contents.

She wrapped her arms around her tummy, miserably wishing yet again that she wasn’t wearing those elasticated tights.

“Well, this is just bloody fucking fantastic,” Maeve was grumbling from the front of the stage, where she’d climbed up to inspect the damage. Autumn couldn’t even bear to glance up at her, choosing instead to keep her head down and at least try to keep all of her sick in one place.

“Shit!” That voice was a little more comforting than Maeve’s. Leigh. “Is she okay?”

“I-I-I don’t know, she just –” Dixon didn’t seem capable of providing any further information, so Leigh clicked her tongue at him and took hold of Autumn’s elbow. Her grip was a little rougher than Autumn was expecting, which startled a little whimper out of her. She was hit with the realisation that she’d been expecting – no, wanting – Payton’s gentle fingertips, their light touch. “Come on, let’s go to the toilet, yeah?”

Autumn tried to nod as Leigh coaxed her forward a few steps. Her throat clenched, her mouth shooting open again, her stomach seizing in a dry heave, and some of the chorus who had ducked back into the wings gasped in horror and stumbled even further back to let her through.

___

They were halfway to the ground floor bathroom of the student centre before Autumn realised that her own character shoes were soaked through with undigested chunks of ham and cheese and mayonnaise too, and the next turn of her stomach came from the realisation that she was going to have to let her parents know that she needed to buy new ones. Autumn made her own money, but not a lot of it, and most of it she contributed towards living expenses.

Oh, and she should probably replace Dixon’s too, since she –

“Leigh,” she groaned weakly, clutching her belly.

“One second, just one more second,” Leigh assured her, shoving open the swinging door to the bathroom and dashing towards the nearest stall with Autumn in tow.

Autumn fell upon the toilet seat with a gasp of relief so intense that it probably sounded like pleasure. She almost blushed, but there wasn’t enough blood left in her face for that.

"Fuck, you poor thing," Leigh exclaimed. Autumn could vaguely sense her pacing back and forth just outside the stall, occasionally nudging the door open a couple of inches to keep an eye on her.

Autumn was seeing stars and felt as though her throat had been wrung out like a sponge. Every splash that touched the toilet water sent her further into a slump, until she was barely sure that she'd even left bed this morning. Was this all a horrible dream? Surely she hadn't just puked her guts up in front of the entire Drama Society, right on the beautiful stage where stories played out so prettily...?

“Leigh! Uh... I’ve got Autumn’s bag,” Dixon’s voice called out.

“The hell are you doing?” Leigh asked gently, still lingering outside of Autumn's stall. “Just bring it here.”

“But…” Autumn couldn’t see his face, but she could imagine that Dixon had gone the colour of beetroot. “It’s the ladies’.”

“You’re adorable. Bring it here.”

Dixon grunted. “I can’t tell if you’re complimenting me or insulting me.”

“Let’s call it both.” Leigh began audibly fidgeting with the zips on Autumn’s bag.

“How are you doing, Autumn?” Dixon asked, and she couldn't help but think of the kind look he'd given her just before she'd vomited, and then the sight of his shoes dripping with her stomach contents.

Autumn had to bite her lip to keep from sobbing. “I-I’m sorry. Sorry about your shoes.”

“What…? No, no, don’t… I needed a new pair anyway. This was the sign I needed to take the leap.”

“Got it.”

“Her phone?”

“Yeah, but it’s locked.”

“Autumn, hon?” Dixon’s voice came a little closer to her again. “Can you unlock your phone?”

Autumn frowned, but stuck out her thumb to activate the screen. “Wh-why?” she croaked. When she tried to think of any possible reason they would need to access her phone, her thoughts became a hazy, black void. A bead of sweat cooled as it rolled down past the dimples in her spine, disappearing into the constricting waistband of her tights. She huffed. Wow, she wasn’t sure she’d ever sweat so much in her life.

“We’re just going to call… Well, who can we call for you?” Leigh asked. “Your mum? Is she free?”

“No! No.” Autumn shook her head, and a couple of tears came loose from her cheeks and landed on the toilet seat. A laugh bubbled up in her chest, which felt completely inappropriate, so she swallowed it back down.

“Then who?”

She sobbed quietly. Or, at least, she hoped it was quietly. “Payton,” she choked out, and it felt like a ball of acid had lodged high in her throat, slowly corroding the back of her head and eating into her thoughts and why, why was everything so dark all of a sudden.

“Payton,” she cried, lacing her fingers into her hair and shaking her head over the opening of the toilet bowl. “I just want Payton.”

#Lucyverse Autumn #emeto #emetophilia #sickfic #emeto sickfic #hurt and comfort #hurt comfort #stomach bug #stomach ache #stomach ache fic

[bellysoupset]

Sick Wendy during the holidays + Caretaker Vince. Fever, stomach bug and some much deserved belly rubs.

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

"Honey," Wendy whispered, shaking Vince's shoulder lightly and he groaned, rolling away from her as much as the passenger seat allowed. She bit down a smile, shaking him harder, "Vince, wake up."

"Are we here?" he groaned, not bothering to open his eyes and Wendy opened a fond smile, rubbing his back. Vince had these terrible dark circles lately that were worrying her, but he swore everything was fine, he just couldn't get a good night of sleep. She decided to let him sleep.

"No," she whispered, leaning in to press a kiss to his curls, "we're at the gas stop, I'll be right back. Do you want anything?"

Nothing but a soft snore answered her.

It wasn't a hole-in-the-wall type of gas station. It was part of a much bigger chain and had a restaurant area, as well as a trinkets store and a coffee shop.

They had had breakfast back home and Wendy was still feeling quite full from it, but that didn't stop her from buying a large caramel latte, as well as a box of cupcakes for Vince, then took her sweet time browsing through the trinkets.

Everything was overpriced, since this was the last store before reaching town and they knew their clients were people who had forgotten to buy gifts, especially during holiday season.

Wendy smiled as she saw a beautiful headband, all bejeweled and with turquoise stones. She put it inside her basket, continuing to go through the products, while slurping on the rest of her coffee. Wendy grimaced as her straw hit the bottom of her plastic cup. She hadn't realized how fast she chugged it.

Her stomach gurgled, complaining, and she felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment, standing up straight and going to pay for the headband, as well as other useless trinkets she thought were cute.

Vince was awake once she got back to the car. He had jumped out and was leaning against the metal, hands shoved in his jacket's pocket, cheeks kissed by the cold and all pink, the tips of his curls poking out from under his black beanie were twirling with the wind.

"What you got there?" he asked, once Wendy moved closer. She handed him the box of cupcakes, the one she had already forgotten about and felt vaguely queasy as he opened it to reveal the icing covered goodies.

"Ooh, they look great... I'm starving," he reached for one, before pausing and frowning, "dairy free? I don't wanna shit my pants during Christmas, honey."

Wendy wrinkled her nose at his crass language, shifting on her feet. Her stomach was starting to throb and continuing to gurgle, "it's just the 20th," she told him with an eyeroll, then before Vince could interrupt, "and yes, they're dairy free."

"Uhm," he didn't need to hear anything else, all but shoving one of the tiny cupcakes whole in his mouth, "eel'goo."

"Ew," Wendy grinned, putting the other bags in the backseat and circling him, "switch with me?"

Vince nodded, still eating as he circled the car and then planting the box on her lap as he fixed the car seat and put them back on the road.

"These are actually great," he said happily, fishing another one from the box, left hand drumming on the steering wheel, "thank you... Aren't you gonna eat, Wen?"

Wendy's stomach squeezed at the thought and she shook her head, fighting to keep a smile on, "not hungry..."

"Are you sure?" Vince glanced at her quickly, before looking back to the road, "they have a red velvet one..."

"No, I'm good," Wendy stressed, fighting the urge to shove the cupcakes off her lap. She could smell them and all that sweetness was making her already unsettled belly even more so.

Vince frowned and seemed like he wanted to argue, but he didn't say anything, only ate another cupcake and kept driving. Wendy was graceful, her stomach was souring quickly and her head started to throb with the sweet scent filling the car.

It was snowing, so it wasn't like she could open a window and she mentally cursed, leaning back on her seat and closing her eyes, breathing through her mouth. Maybe she was just carsick, she could fight through it.

Her mouth felt sticky and she licked at her dry lips, gulping down and bouncing one of her legs anxiously, feeling the latte churn in her belly. In the cramped space of the car, she was sure Vince could hear all the little noises her stomach was making and Wendy felt terribly embarrassed on top of the nausea, trapped like a caged animal and wanting to put as much distance between them.

Vince's freezing hand upon her forehead startled her so much Wendy gasped and coughed, rushing to sit up straight.

"What-"

"You don't look so well, honey," he had slowed down and seemed to be looking for a spot to pull over, much to her dismay. The cupcake box had been closed and Wendy glanced around in search of it, finding it sitting in the backseat.

"I'm fine, I'm just..." there was cold sweat gluing her clothes to her back and Wendy groaned, squirming on her seat, "don't laugh," she said, wrapping an arm around her stomach and pushing his hand away from her face, "I drank a latte back at the stop and it's not sitting well."

"Oh," Vince sounded relieved, which only made her want to curl up more. Wendy pressed herself to the door, rocking her body slightly to keep her mind off the waves of queasiness and the pressure in the back of her throat, "why didn't you just say something, hon? Do you want me to pull over?"

"Nu-uh," Wendy shook her head, then brought up a hand to her mouth and muffled a little sick, airy burp, "no, I just want to get to Doveport as soon as possible..."

"We're fifteen minutes out," Vince planted a hand on the middle of her back, switching his attention back to the road, "think you can handle it?"

"God, stop-" Wendy groaned, leaning further in and breathing through her mouth, "stop babying me, it's my fault I feel like shit, Vince. I shouldn't have drank a freaking gas station caramel mocha."

Just the thought of it made her spine curl and Wendy gulped down as she could taste the sweetness all over again. She shuddered, again, goosebumps covering her skin.

"Don't be silly," Vince reached in the cupholder between them, passing her a water bottle, "it's not your fault, honey."

"Uhm..." the water was refreshing, but it landed on her stomach like a brick, immediately wanting out. Wendy's rushed to cup her mouth as her body betrayed her and yet another little burp rushed out, this one morphing in a gag at the end. She swallowed convulsively the sweet saliva pooling in her mouth, her throat seeming to refuse her.

"...Just a second..." she heard Vince say in the background and then the car came to a stop on the side of the road and he reached over her, pushing her door open when Wendy didn't move. She let out a groan, shaking her head, still in denial.

"Nooo..."

"I don't think you get a say on that, honey," Vin said sympathetically, knuckles brushing her cheeks, "c'mon, better out than in."

Her belly let out a nasty growl, a nauseating string of burbles rolling around and Wendy whimpered, giving in and turning on seat to hang out of the door.

She tugged on the ends of her pink scarf, tugging it off her neck and balling it up in one hand, the one squeezing the doorway. Her stomach turned once more and Wendy spat on the grey snow on the side of the road, knowing there was no chance to swallow it back down and not throw up.

Vince's hand was still in the middle of her back, rubbing soothing circles and she wanted to tell him to stop touching her, not when she was feeling this gross and embarrassed... Wendy let out a sick burp and whined, gulping the acid in the back of her throat.

"Let it up, honey, you'll feel better," Vince thumped her back lightly and she nearly snapped at him, when the motion only made her feel worse. She couldn't swallow it back down like this, as he forced up another belch... And then she puked a gush of beige vomit all over the snow.

Wendy coughed, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to spit the horrible taste in her mouth, without setting off another round. Her nausea didn't lessen, on the contrary, it only seemed to grow and grow... She nearly fell off the car with the strength of the next heave, vomiting a much larger amount as her belly squeezed with a cramp.

Vince had moved on his seat, so he could gently hold the pieces of hair away from her mouth with one hand, the other one planted on her shoulder to stop Wendy from taking a dive at the disgusting side of the road, and she let out a whimper at the realization he could see exactly what she could see, which was quite the gruesome sight.

"Stop- Stop touching me..." Wendy whined, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and falling back against her seat, wrapping one arm around her stomach. She was wearing a graphic sweater, as well as a thick baby blue skirt, with a belt around her middle. When they left home, the belt had been loose, but right now it felt like it was squeezing her in half.

However, just the idea of undoing it was too humiliating. Wendy gulped down nervously, shuddering again and wiping the little tears clinging to her lashes. She avoided Vin's worried gaze and his outstretched hand, holding the plastic bottle of water. Her fingers came back brushed with black and Wendy groaned again, imagining just how gross she looked, with her mascara all smeared.

"I'm so sorry," she sighed, wiping at her mouth and her eyes again, trying to regain a scrap of composure, "I'm sorry, this was disgusting, I just-"

"Oh, can it, Wen," Vince scoffed, cupping her face. His hands were freezing and they felt lovely against her cheeks, even if they made her shiver. Wendy whined, closing her eyes as her stomach continued to flip, not feeling one bit settled, although it was much emptier, "did getting that out of your system help?"

She nodded, lying, and Vince let out a huff, suddenly pressing a kiss to her brow, "I don't know if I believe it, you're the color of the snow."

Wendy gagged at the thought, "covered in sick and disgusting?"

"White," Vince corrected her with a chuckle, reaching over her to slam the door shut, "white like a bunny," he teased lightly, kissing her temple again, "take a minute, okay? We're not in a rush."

"We sort of are, though," Wendy sighed, but couldn't help but lean back on her seat with relief. Her stomach was still feeling horrible, churning ominously and she felt far from done. To makes matters worse, she was covered in sweat and couldn't seem to stop shaking, "I feel like crap."

"I'm sorry, honey," Vince rubbed her arm, then reached on the side of her seat, lowering it a little bit, "we're really almost home, just try and breathe, okay?"

That wasn't as reassuring as he thought it was. Home for Vince, sure, but to her it meant a much larger audience witnessing as she made a fool of herself, her stomach hellbent on emptying itself from the caramel latte and Wendy was terrified her intestines would join her body's riot against her. She wanted her own apartment, her own bed and bathroom and no audience.

Still, she didn't say it out loud, and true to Vin's words, not even 10 minutes later they were entering his street. Wendy lowered the mirror to get a look at herself, then cringed as she saw the smudged mascara around her eyes, and how pale she was. She quickly wiped the black vestiges away, grabbing the water bottle and taking some sips, swishing the water around to get rid of the horrible taste in her mouth and the puke breath. It was the best she could do.

The water had been a horrible idea, it added to the churning in her tummy, making her feel even more nauseous. She felt overly full and dizzy, but right now was not the time.

The front door opened and Vince's mom rushed out to pull her 6'4 baby into a hug, squealing when he pulled her off her feet. It was a heart warming scene and Wendy would've basked in it, wasn't it for the fact she could feel her belly squeezing again, her mouth watering.

"You too, c'mere," Ma said, tugging Wendy into a hug, "darling, I missed you... What's wrong?"

Wendy wanted to cry. She had hoped she could simply lie her way through and go up to Vin's room to curl up in his bathroom and die, but clearly his mother had other ideas. The woman cupped her cheeks, then touched her forehead, a wrinkle appearing between her brows, a frown forming. Ma looked every little bit like her son when she glared like that.

"I'm fine-"

"Mamma, she's alright," Vince interjected, noticing his girlfriend's pale face and weak, strained voice, "carsickness, that's all."

Carsickness was much less embarrassing than I-drank-a-fucking-side-of-the-road-latte-because-i'm-stupid-and-have-no-self-restraint, Wendy thought sourly, wincing.

Ma let out a little unhappy noise, "you poor thing," she pulled back, patting Wendy's arm, "come inside, lie down for a bit. I'll get you a ginger ale."

She mumbled another string of words, but that Wendy couldn't piece together since it was in italian. She hoped it was just amiable cooing, but Wendy's swirling thoughts couldn't help but feel like she was being judged.

Her parents would be judging the shit out of Vince if it was the other way around, the talking behind his back would simply never stop. It was hard to believe in Ma's genuine affection as she pushed Wendy inside the house and towards the couch, telling her to sit down and lean back her head.

"You'll feel alright in un attimo," the woman cooed, while Vince brought in the bags. He flashed Wendy a smile, crossing the living room to crouch in front of the couch.

"Sorry, mom's a lot," he whispered, pushing a strand of hair away from Wendy's eyes, "how's your belly?"

"I wanna die, Vince," Wendy answered him, her voice hoarse from the previous puking, "I'm sorry, this was so stupid- I don't know where my mind was."

Vince rolled his eyes, leaning in to kiss her forehead, "whatever do you mean, honey?" he cupped her face, thumb on her chin, "you couldn't possibly have guessed you'd get sick."

"It was gas station food, I definitely could have not eaten that," Wendy scoffed, wrapping an arm around her stomach as the thought made her all the more queasy. She hated that she could still just taste it.

Across the room there was a noise and then Livia rushed in, bundled up in a snow coat, grinning the whole way.

"VINNY!" She squealed, throwing herself over her brother with her whole body, causing him to almost fall on his back. He opened a big smile, kissing her cheek and moving his arms to Liv was sitting on his knee, her arms wrapped around his neck.

The little girl finally saw Wendy, still smiling as she said, "Hi principessa," she jumped from Vin's lap to press a kiss to Wendy's cheek, before frowning, "why are you sad?"

"Wendy's sick, bambi, leave her alone," Vince pulled his sister back, grabbing the little kid and throwing her over his shoulder, then turning to Wendy, "I'm gonna get you some water, do you think pepto would help?"

Wendy shrugged, she didn't feel like she could hold the medicine down, but it was worth a try. Vin let out a little sad, sympathetic sigh, before whispering, "be right back."

She let out a groan once he was out of sight, curling up on the couch and trying to figure if she could get away with leaving the living room or if it'd be too rude. Her stomach was sloshing uncomfortably and she still couldn't stop shivering.

"Here," Sophia's voice startled her and Wendy glanced up from her curled up position, in time to see Vince's cranky teenager sister drape a blanket over her.

It made her heart sink and Wendy opened a strained smile, "thank you..." she said, her voice all raspy. Sophia blushed, shrugging.

"Do you need anything else?" she reminded Wendy of Jonah and Wendy smiled at the thought, pulling the blankets tighter around her. She wanted Vince, but he had only been gone for ten minutes, so it was too pathetic to say out loud.

"No, I'm fine. Thank you, Soph."

Still Sophia hung around, uneasily shifting her weight from foot to foot, clearly wanting to do more but unsure of what. She was thankfully interrupted by Vince coming back, a thermos in one of his hands, as well as a ceramic mug held only by his pinky around the handle, the little bottle of pepto bismol sitting inside of it.

"Mamma made some peppermint tea, honey," Vince said, messing Sophia's hair as he circled around her to get to the couch and causing his sister to hiss and shove his back.

Wendy groaned at the prospect of drinking anything, especially something sweet, when her stomach already felt like it was crawling up her throat. She turned on the couch, pressing her lips tightly closed and breathing deeply through her nose, looking at the ceiling.

"I know you don't wanna drink anything right now, but this could help," Vince said, sitting on the ground in front of her. Even sitting down a level lower than her, he was still taller. Wendy sighed, pulling the ends of the blanket and shaking her head.

"I don't... I don't think so, Vin..."

He pouted, then leaned in to push a stray hair away from her eyes and his brows dipped into a frown, "oh Wen, you're really warm..."

She leaned forward, planting her forehead to his hand and still taking measured breaths, as her stomach started to feel more and more uneasy, "that..." her mouth pooled with overly sweet spit and Wendy gulped it down, "that'd-explaininnit..." she slurred, the words barely forming. Her face felt numb.

"Vin..." Wendy heard Sophia saying, but she was far too nauseous to pay any attention. It felt like the couch was swaying... Her throat constricted as if she couldn't breathe and up came another wave of vomit.

This time it was much chunkier and harder to get up and Wendy was left gasping for air and crying when she finished off the first round, her stomach still flipping inside of her, letting out a little acrid burp. She couldn't bring herself to open her eyes, sure she had just thrown up all over her boyfriend's parent's living room, probably ruining his mom's rug.

"I'm-" Wendy hiccupped, her head throbbing in the same rhythm as her belly churned, "fuck, i'm so-sorry..." there were tears streaming down her face and Wendy started to openly cry as she felt Vince shush her, pulling her closer to him. Her forehead met his chest or his tummy, she wasn't sure, she only knew she could smell the fabric softener in his hoodie and that it was soft and inviting... And she was probably ruining it with tears and drool.

"Soph, potresti prendere il...?"

"Sí, sí-"

Whatever Vince said to his sister, suddenly Wendy was no longer half covered by the blanket and his arms were wrapping around her, one under her legs, the other around her back, lifting her up.

"No-" Wendy groaned, as he moved so her head could rest on his shoulder, "no, Vin, I'm-" her belly contracted painfully and Wendy muffled a burp against his chest, gasping for air, "stooop..."

"Sorry, doll," Vince whispered back, his voice rough with concern. Wendy groaned louder at the movement of him carrying her, probably up the stairs judging by the up and down that was making her head spin.

"I'm gonna... Vince, wait-" Wendy complained weakly, trying to warn him she was about to be sick again. He sped up, but didn't show any other sign of having heard her and Wen let out a frustrated noise, trying to pull back from his hold.

"No, hon, don't do that," Vince said softly and then hit a light switch and Wendy realized they had just entered his bathroom. It was just a cramped and messy as she remembered it.

He put her down gently in front of the sink and Wendy let out a sob as she noticed a wet dark patch on his hoodie, already wiped at, "oh no-"

"It's alright," Vince tugged his sweater off, balling it up and throwing it under the sink, closing the distance between them so he could pull her hair into a low ponytail.

"Did I..." She leaned heavily over the sink, squeezing her eyes shut against the mounting nausea, "did I puke on your mom's couch...?"

"No, just my lap," Vince teased her lightly, planting a kiss to her temple, and Wendy groaned, letting out a tiny airy burp.

"It's not funny," she scoffed, voice thick with tears and wanting for the ground to open up. She caught Vin rolling his eyes on the mirror.

"Wendy, you're sick, sweetheart. My family adores you, please don't worry about this..." he rubbed her back, "can you get in the shower? I think your fever is up..."

"Uhm," Wendy folded in half, pressing her forehead to the cold sink and shivering violently, "maybe... Do you- Can you give me some space? Please?"

Her belly was still a mess and she had never felt so mortified before, but she knew she'd feel even worse just stripping in front of him. Vince let out a little unhappy noise, his hand still planted in the middle of her back.

"I can... But I'm gonna be right outside, okay? And please don't lock the door."

"Okay," she sniffled, tearing up, "can you get me some clean clothes, please?" Her belt was still squeezing the hell out of her upset tummy and her sweater and skirt felt like they were glued to her sweat covered body. Vince nodded, kissing the top of her head.

"Of course, doll. I'll get you something comfy. You can use my towel, I'll get another one later."

"Thank you," she waited for him to step out and then Wendy's flimsy hold on her self control all but crumbled. New tears sprung up and she immediately started stripping, despite feeling sluggish and awful. The sensation of the clothes was constricting and she especially hated it rubbing on her belly, reminding her how bloated she was.

The hot water took a second to heat up and Wendy shivered violently hugging herself and sitting on the closed toilet in just her panties. Her belly was sore as fuck and she could still hear it let out all sorts of noises, bubbles shifting under her hand.

The warm shower did wonders to how gross she was feeling and relaxed the muscles of her back, but did absolutely nothing to the woozy feeling, except make it worse. She stumbled slightly, pressing her forehead to the cold tiles and letting the hot water run down her back, trying to find any strength to shut it off and walk out.

Instead, her legs were feeling more and more like jelly. Wendy breathed through her mouth as the bathroom spun around her and slowly slid down to a crouched down position, doing her best to not fall on her ass.

Her stomach flipped and she gagged, barely having to heave for more frothy yellow bile to spill out of her and get washed away by the water. There was a knock on the door, Vince's muffled voice calling out her name.

Wendy let out a groan, washing her mouth with shaky hands and tried to get up, only to find out that she couldn't. Instead she sat on her ass and curled up her knees, hoping Vin would overlook her request for privacy and enter the bathroom, because she was seeing a whole new collection of black dots and stars.

She didn't hear the door opening, but she did hear Vince's loud voice exclaim "WENDY!" and then she felt water hitting her face... And next she woke up she was freezing cold.

Wendy didn't think she had been out for more than a couple minutes, because Vin hadn't moved her. He had shut off the water and she was curled up in his arms, shivering violently and he was talking in rapid fire italian-english with someone...

The thought that she was naked in front of his family was enough to have Wendy waking up from any slumber. She whined and tried to move, only to feel Vince's arms squeeze around her, keeping her put. He let out a relieved sigh, "thank fucking God, Wendy..." and only then did she realize he had wrapped her up in a bathing robe.

Ma Monacelli was standing in the doorway, with a phone pressed to her cheek and Wendy dizzily blinked, trying to get a hold of the situation. She couldn't make sense of what his mom was saying and it took her a minute to realize it wasn't in english.

"What... What's your mom..." Wendy grumbled, squirming again. Vince helped her sit up slightly against him, his hands never leaving her once. She realized his curls were glued to the side of his face and his cheeks were blazing red and he was shivering too, water clinging to his lashes... He had gotten in the shower with her.

"She's talking with the doctor. It's better if you don't move yet or you'll get lightheaded," he rubbed her back quickly, in order to produce warmth and Wendy groaned, curling up further.

"No, don't- I don't need a doctor," she whined, shaking her head, "really, I just need to go to bed... It was just- Just the hot water..."

Ma lowered the phone, looking almost angry, "no, we're calling Dr. Bianchi, she's not well."

Wendy felt a small flare of annoyance. She was right there.

Vince probably sensed it, because he interrupted his mother's next words, by saying in a calm voice that didn't belong him, "mamma, we're crowding her. Let me just get Wendy settled in bed and we can discuss a doctor."

Magda crossed her arms, face all scrunched up as if she wanted to argue, "I'm worried, you can't just-"

"Ma," Vince said in a steady, rougher voice that Wendy had never heard him use with his mom. The woman sighed, before nodding and stepping out of the bathroom. She left the door open, but Wen could clearly hear as she shut the bedroom door, having fully left the suite.

"I'm sorry," Wendy whispered, "I didn't mean to make you fight your mom..."

"She'll live," Vince rolled his eyes, pushing the wet hair away from her face, "how are you? Can we move to the bedroom?"

"Dizzy," she answered him honestly, shuddering from cold, "freezing."

"Figures," Vince snorted and Wendy could hear the wind howling outside, probably it had started to snow again, "and your stomach?"

"Still feels really sick," she admitted, "but empty."

"I'm gonna count that as a win," Vince's shoulders dropped and she could clearly see how worried he was, the deep concern lines all over his face, "I'm gonna get you up, okay?"

Very slowly they made their track back to his room and Vince promptly sprung into action as soon as Wendy was sitting on his bed. He grabbed a matching set of his old hoodies in the wardrobe, instead of the suitcase, and crouched down before her.

"What... Why....?" Wendy frowned, confused and trying to understand what he was doing through the brain fog caused by the fever, the headache and the nausea. Vin tapped her knee lightly, sliding his large pants over her legs.

"It's warmer than your stuff," he explained, "and won't squeeze your tummy. Besides, if you end up being sick on it, it's no big deal, these are super old and don't fit me anymore."

"Uhm..." Wendy felt boneless as he removed the bathrobe and slide the hoodie over her head, "can you cuddle me...? I don't want you to get this, but I-"

"Honey," Vince chuckled slightly, pressing a kiss on the corner of her mouth, then over her lips, "we're so past that, don't worry about it. Besides, I never get sick."

"That's a lie," Wendy scoffed, but she couldn't fight the warm sensation that spread all over her as Vince pushed her against the pillows and tugged on the blankets so it was draped over her.

"Just let me change," he whispered, the moved around again. Wendy was too tired to follow him with her eyes, she felt weak and still disgusting, so instead she closed her eyes and hoped Vince would be back soon enough.

She woke up with the bed moving. Now she was warm, for the first time in hours, so warm she was sweating. Wendy could tell she was lying against Vince, because while his tummy was soft, it was much sturdier than the pillow that had been under her head previously. His fingers were running through her hair and he was speaking in a soft voice.

Too soft.

"You can't be here, bambi, you'll get sick too," he was whispering and Wendy forced her eyes open, noticing Livia was sitting on the foot of the bed, looking terribly worried. She was clad in a footie pajama, holding a stuffed bear to her lap, her little hand tracing over Wendy's.

"I don't care," Liv pouted, "is Wendy dying?"

"No," Vince scoffed, stroking Wendy's cheek, still unaware she was awake, "it's just a tummy bug, she'll be fine in a couple of days."

"Are you sure?" Liv squinted at him, then studied Wendy's face. Wen was thankful for the dark room, she wasn't ready to be awake just yet.

"Yes, Liv," Vince smiled, then moved slightly on the bed, so he could slide out from under Wen, "c'mon, let's go to bed, okay?"

He picked up Livia and she whined, but threw her arms around his neck, complaining as he carried her out of the room.

Once more alone, Wendy rolled on the bed, so she was flat on her back. Her muscles were all aching and her belly specifically was hurting, as if she had done a bunch of crunches, as well as if it was still stuffed with food, which she knew it wasn't.

She pushed herself up against the pillows, letting out a sigh of relief as she realized Vince had left the thermos and a bottle of water sitting on the bedside table, as well as there was a trashcan on the ground, within her reach.

Wendy took a tentative gulp of water and when that didn't immediately upset her belly, she took a larger one. It sat like a brick in her belly and she still felt terribly queasy, but at least it didn't immediately want out.

"Hey," Vince whispered, entering the room again, "you're awake."

"Just barely," Wendy smiled, kicking the blankets so he could join her. Vince didn't come cuddle her, instead he grabbed a thermometer sitting right next to the water bottle and handed it to her.

"Just for my peace of mind," Vince said, planting a hand on her forehead, "but you're not that warm anymore, I think it broke while you slept."

"Uhm," Wendy leaned on his touch, "is your mom pissed at me....?"

"Pissed at you? She was so worried she was considering calling 911, doll, she is not pissed at you. She made dad go to the store, did you know they sell gatorade in six packs?"

Wendy's cheeks caught on fire, "oh no... I really didn't mean to-"

"Wen," Vince rolled his eyes, pushing her mouth shut so the thermometer could get a good reading, "we all love you, you're not a bother. We're just worried."

"Uhm," Wendy sighed, waiting until the little device beeped. A low grade fever, but not that high. Vince's shoulders dropped in visible relief and he leaned forward, his forehead meeting her lap.

"You worried the shit out of me, Wendy."

"I'm so-"

"No, stop, stop," he glared at her, pushing her back against the pillows, "stop apologizing, okay? Just let me take care of you."

"You really shouldn't have to, it's Christmas..."

"You don't even celebrate Christmas," he chuckled, kissing her cheek and then moving on the bed, kicking off hsi flip flops so he could get closer to her, "can I rub your belly?"

Wendy's cheeks caught on fire and she awkwardly bit her lip, unsure if she wanted him to touch it or not. The idea of a soothing belly rub sounded amazing, but she still felt so gross and so... So disgusting. She didn't want Vin to come to this realization too...

"You think too much," he whispered, pushing her hoodie up slightly. His hands were really warm and he rubbed them together before planting them on Wendy's bloated, upset tummy.

The organ let out a growl and Wendy pressed her hands to her face, her cheeks aflame, but still she didn't push him back and Vince kept at it. He rubbed it in steady, slow circles and caused her to let out a little burp.

Vin glanced up, worried, but Wendy only shook her head as if to say she was fine. He smiled, then leaned in and planted a kiss on her belly, "I'm glad you're feeling better."

"Not that much better," Wendy said, her heart stuttering as she felt him plant a bunch of little, fluttery kisses all over her tummy. Vince chuckled, his laugh vibrating against her skin.

"No? How can I help?"

Wendy pressed her knuckles to her mouth, biting down a delighted smile at his teasing tone, "don't stop."

"Not planning on it, honey."

#mywriting #sickfic #stomach bug #food poisoning #tw: vomit #emetophilia #fainting #wendy marshall #🦦 anon

[jurassicsickfics]

Just thinking about a scenario where sickie wakes caretaker, who they share a bed with in the middle of the night and tell them, "I just threw up..."

And as caretaker gives a sympathetic reply they realize they're...wet?

Yeah sickie apparently didn't make it out of bed...

#sickfic prompts #sicknario #sickfic #emeto prompt #puke prompts #vomit prompts #stomach bug #stomach flu #tummy ache

[sick-girlz]

As a kid, Sickie has gotten seriously ill.

A stomach bug has hit their class, leaving a few unaffected. Sickie was hit the worst by it: no sleep from stomach pain, vomiting so severe barely anything remained in them and diarrhoea that wrecked havoc on their whole system.

Ever since that week of doom, Sickie takes huge measures to keep themselves unaffected: thoroughly washing their hands, masks on when colleagues are ill, hand sanitizers at the ready, no eating without washing/disinfectinh their hands, etc. Everyone teases them for it, but Sickie is well prepared.

Write what happens when Sickie is the only one who hasn't stayed home or was sent home because of a stomach bug going around.

#sickfic #sickfic prompt #sickness #whump scenario #stomach ache #stomach bug #emeto #emeto cw #scat cw

[harmonyverendez]

Ugh, Stomach Virus isn't a joke. I hate this. :(

No updates until I feel better.

#my post #harmonyverendez #upset stomach #Stomach virus #Stomach bug #sickness sucks #Siclness

[secretobsessionstuff]

Sick Micah at formal event

Inspired by THIS post, and here's a little snapshot of it:

A and B are in an extremely formal situation where they are required to stand for long periods of time.

A has been running a pretty nasty fever since the night before, but they both HAVE to be there (think of a social event that will impact their whole career, so they really have no choice but to go).

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

Sometimes Micah felt sick over the idea of being an adult. The very concept of taxes made him want to puke. And as life would have it, the one night when he was excited about being grown and taking on new responsibilities was the night when he felt like puking for real. This wasn’t the psychosomatic queasiness that came from paying his bills; it was the type of queasiness that came from a bug in his digestive track. 

He'd been up all night with Alexi. His lovely, perfect boyfriend had sat with him on the bathroom floor while he vomited and dry heaved for hours. Now, that same lovely, perfect boyfriend stood with him at the thirtieth anniversary for Phoenix Fire Press. That was the publishing company that was going to publish Micah’s very first novel. This evening was a big deal, not just because it was a milestone for the medium company, but because they were opening their business to new potential shareholders. Micah had been given an invitation to attend the event in hopes that he would invest in his future at the publishing company. 

The one downside was that the talk of owning shares and how that whole process worked came at the end of the evening. First, they had to celebrate the many new authors who had joined them in the past year, Micah included. 

The night dragged on for quite some time. Micah couldn’t say how long because his sense of reality was altered by the heat in his brain. He saw mirages everywhere he looked, like blurry lines of text or the sweet promise of his bed. He must have caught his head from rolling off his shoulders a million times. 

“Oh, good, you’re still conscious,” Alexi said as he came back to Micah, holding glasses of water. “I thought I’d come back and find you on the floor.” 

Micah could not remember what sarcasm even was, therefore, he did not return the jest. “Lexi, how long have we been here?” 

Alexi almost—almost—spilled the water all over himself when he turned his wrist to check his watch. But he caught himself in time, placing the glasses down on a ledge before seeing that they’d been at the event for a little over an hour. He told Micah this who simply groaned. 

“I’m sorry, baby.” Alexi gently rubbed his thumb over Micah’s flushed cheek. His skin was hotter than phoenix fire. “The fever reducers aren’t working, eh?” 

“No,” Micah grumbled as he wrapped his arms around his stomach. None of the meds he took were helping. The nausea hadn’t lessened and neither had he aches in his body. He was just a blob of pain and useless medication that floated thickly through his bloodstream. 

They’d gotten to the event late (on account of Micah needing to retch emptily on the side of the road), meaning there was only standing room available. All the tables had been taken. It seemed the Press hadn’t bet on this many people showing up. But they were a reputable company that would only go up; it was no wonder that many people were interested in owning shares. Micah had been ecstatic about the idea of investing in something that he was passionate about. He loved the publishers, and editors, and marketing team at Phoenix Fire Press. He wanted to grow with them. He wanted to recreate himself with this opportunity. This was an adult opportunity that he was ready to take on. 

But all he wanted was to curl up in his bed and cry. He didn’t feel very adult in that moment, with his aching tummy. 

He shifted his weight from one foot to the next, trying to remain upright and sooth the aches from standing so long. The balance needed to do this was not there, and twice and had to catch himself before he fell. His vision darkened at the edges with each attempt. Micah put his hand over his eyes and moaned. 

“Micah, you’re shaking,” Alexi whispered from behind him. 

“I can’t do this any longer.” His voice wobbled with emotion. 

Suddenly Micah felt Alexi’s hands on his waist. He let himself be pulled back against his boyfriend’s chest. It was strong and secure; he could so easily let go of the tension in his shoulder if he…could…just…

“It’s okay. Lean on me,” Alexi whispered in his ear. His breath was warm on Micah’s neck. The poor sick boy shivered despite the heat that Alexi felt radiating off his back. He swore he could see the air make lazy waves around them. 

Micah didn’t need to be told twice. He dropped his shoulders, let his head fall back against Alexi’s chest just under his chin, and allowed himself to be enveloped in his boyfriend’s embrace. Some tension sloughed off his muscles. His eye closed immediately, and the sound of the event became a distant white noise.

But before he gave in entirely, he craned his neck to get Alexi’s attention. A kiss on his temple let him know that he had it. “Give me a nudge when they start talking about the shareholders.” 

“I will.” Alexi’s lips fluttered softly over his temple. “Just relax. I’ve got you.” 

Alexi was pleased with the heavy weight that settled in his arms. It meant that his boyfriend got a small rest, even if it wasn’t of the best quality. He wouldn’t feel much better until he could lie down for real, close his eyes, and forget about the world. But this was a start. 

While Micah drooped, his fever rose. It burned in his face, turning his cheeks into red roses. Little blooms of heat sprouted beneath his eyes. Alexi worried that Micah would burn up into ashes, and that he wouldn’t rise again. He’d been so sick all last night and throughout the day. He was surprised that Micah had enough fluid left in his body to turn his eyes glassy, what with all the sweating and vomiting and diarrhea. This bug was testing him, but he knew that Micah would pull through. 

But just then, Micah didn’t have the energy to keep pushing. Alexi could feel his boyfriend slipping in and out of consciousness. He shifted and repositioned himself so that he could keep Micah from slouching or crumpling to the floor. 

They went on like this for another twenty minutes, until the MC announced that the company was moving into a new stage. Interested parties were encouraged to listen and consider becoming new shareholders. The press had received three impressive grants which allowed for development and expansion. They wanted all their clients and peers to consider taking a chance on the business. Together they would grow exponentially over the next thirty years. There was much talk about rebirth and protentional and fiery passion. Of course, a bunch of literarily nerds would lean heavily into the metaphor. 

Speaking of leaning heavily, Alexi nudged his boyfriend awake. “Honey, this is it. We’re almost done.” 

“Is it time?” 

“It is.” 

Alexi helped Micah to stand up straight on his own. They stood now face to face. Micah’s face was sweaty and flushed, but also ready to wear a mask of health. Micah blinked hard, rolled his shoulder to wake up his sore muscles, and kept his head high. Alexi only saw the smallest knit in his eyebrow because he knew of the many emotions that ran through his boyfriend’s mind. 

“Micah, I know you’re nervous about the future, but I also know this is right. You’re going to grow as a writer and as member of this team. It’s scary starting something new, but I’ll be with you for the whole thing.”

Micah sighed and closed his eyes. “Thank you for supporting my decisions. It feels easier with you here.”

Alexi kissed him on the nose. “Go on. I’ll be here when you get back, unless of course you want me to come?” 

“No, I want to start this on my own. I’ll tell you all about it later.” 

“Sure.” Alexi had a pretty good hunch that later meant much later. 

And his hunch turned out to be right, because his boyfriend returned nearly an hour later, frazzled by the social interaction and exhausted from the ache in his bones. He shuffled his feet on the floor, looking like a zombie who had no business being in a nice suit at a fancy meeting. 

Well, the meeting was over, and judging by Micah’s expression of relief, it went as well as it could have. Things were in motion now and their shared financial future was tied to a company that Micah was proud to work with. 

The light in the halls dimmed and brightened in time with the beating of Micah’s sluggish heartbeat. As he walked back to his boyfriend, happy about leaving soon, the beating in his chest got stronger and faster. He felt sweat prickle the back of his neck and nausea bubble in his stomach. As soon as he was within arm’s reach of his boyfriend, he let the veneer of health crack and slip from his face, a grimace of pain and discomfort contorting his features.

Alexi hugged Micah to his chest. “Oh, baby, you’re so sick. Can you make it to the car?” 

Micah shook his head and mumbled into Alexi’s neck. “I’m gonna throw up.” 

With the gurgling growing louder in Micah’s tummy, he felt himself being pulled to the washroom. As expected at the end of a big event, the washrooms were flooded with people milling around. Micah moaned and covered his mouth with his hand. 

“Come on, this way,” Alexi said quickly, pulling his boyfriend along.

They hoped over a thick velvet rope that was meant to block guests from going to the second floor. Screw the fancy obnoxious rope with its condescending sign; Alexi wasn’t about to let Micah embarrass himself in front of the people he just attached his future to. 

The second floor was closer to heaven than any skyrise because it was peacefully quiet and the washroom was unlocked, Halleluiah! Without another soul around, Micah was able to get sick in peace. He dropped to his knees in front of the toilet and retched up bile and blue Gatorade. It was all he’d been able to force down his throat before the start of the event. The yellow and blue fluids coming up from his stomach made for an odd sight in the toilet, not that Micah had his eyes open to appreciate the science of colour. 

“There you go, baby.” Alexi rubbed his boyfriend’s burning hot back. “You did so well tonight.” 

“Did I miss it?” Micah slurred out with saliva dripping from his lips. 

“Miss what?” 

“The share thingy.” A yes, the most adult sentence Micah had said the entire night. “It’s gonna start soon I think.” 

“No, no love. You didn’t miss anything. Everything is okay.” Alexi ran his hands worriedly over the sweat stains that dripped down Micah’s spine. Even through the blazer, his fever was raging. “You’ve got to take this off, Micah. Your temperature is soaring.” 

“What if someone comes in?” Micah said after spitting a glob of spit into the toilet. 

“No one will. I’ll watch the door, if that’ll make you feel better,” Alexi promised, already slipping Micah’s arm out of his sleeve. He got the blazer off and started to unbutton his dress shirt before Micah put his hands over his. “What is it, babe? I’ve got to bring your fever down.” 

“Your hands are cold.” Micah shivered. “I’m freezing.” 

“I know.” He kissed the side of Micah’s fiery head. “It’s just your fever playing tricks. Trust me. I’m going to get you through this.” 

Micah was too tired to put up a fight. He let Alexi undress him from the waist up. He shed his layers like feathers that burned in a fire. Though he was sick and miserable now, tomorrow he would rise from his sleep, ready to start a new day as a new man, or at least a marginally healthier man. In any case, the future was bright and waiting. 

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