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#stomach flu

TW: mentions of vomit

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Sam woke up to the sound of Dean puking. He rolled his eyes, grabbing the other pillow on his bed and pulling it down over his face to drown out the sound. His brother was such an idiot. 

Sam must’ve managed to fall asleep because he woke up again a while later. Late enough that it was light outside, which was somewhat unusual. Most of the time when they were on a case Dean had them up and working at dawn. He sat up and glanced over at Dean’s bed, which was empty, but the bathroom appeared to be occupied. 

He got out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans, then walked over to the closed bathroom door, knocking harshly. They’d gone to this college party last night, trying to find the student who they believed to be possessed. They hadn’t been successful, but it appeared that Dean had successfully drank himself sick. 

“What?” Dean snapped from inside the bathroom, his voice sounding rough.

“Once your done puking in there princess get out of there so I can shower. We got work to do,” Sam yelled, being loud on purpose. He knew Dean must have a headache from the hangover. 

Dean groaned, then Sam heard a retch and a splash. Great, he was still throwing up. Guess he might not get that shower after all, and he very well may be working this case by himself today. 

“Don’t feel good Sammy,” Dean moaned. 

Sam was taken aback for a second. That wasn’t like his brother to just admit he was feeling bad, even if it was just a hangover. Normally he’d insist he was fine and blow it off like nothing. 

“Yeah well you should know better than to drink yourself into a stupor while we’re on a job,” Sam rolled his eyes, walking back over to his bed to pull out his laptop to sift through social media and see if he could learn anything. 

“S’all yours,” Dean mumbled a few minutes later, exiting the bathroom. 

When Sam turned around, he was concerned by what he saw. Dean was wearing only a pair of boxers, his stomach visibly bloated against the waistband. His hair was matted down with sweat, face chalk white. That doesn’t look like a hangover. 

“Dude what the hell happened to you last night?” Sam asked incredulously. They’d left together, so he didn’t see how Dean could’ve gotten himself into anything crazy. 

“Nothing,” Dean snapped, sitting down heavily on the edge of his bed and dropping his head into his hands. 

Sam walked over to his brother, placing a careful hand on his shoulder, not wanting to get sucker punched. But Dean didn’t even flinch or make a sound. His skin was burning though, heat radiating off of him in waves.

“You’re not hungover are you?” Sam asked, regretting how much of an asshole he’d been.

Dean shook his head miserably, “Only had like half a beer.”

“You’ve got a fever,” Sam commented, internally cursing himself. Dean never would’ve made this mistake. If the roles had been reversed Dean would’ve just known that Sam was sick. He always knew. 

“Yeah, feel like shit,” Dean grunted. Sam could see his arms shaking from holding himself up.

“Alright, why don’t you lay back down and rest,” Sam said, grabbing Dean’s arm to help him pull himself the rest of the way onto the bed and curl up on his side, arms wrapped around his stomach. He’d never seen Dean like this, so compliant. The fact that he’d taken Sam’s bullshit yelling at him this morning without comeback also told him that he was really sick. 

“Might puke again soon,” Dean mumbled, his eyes closed. 

“Right,” Sam said, walking over to grab the trash bin from by the door, setting it next to his brother. He sat down at the edge of the bed, wondering if he should go get some medicine for the fever. Probably wouldn’t stay down anyway, he figured. “I’m sorry for yelling at you, I didn’t know you were sick,” he said.

“I know, s’okay,” Dean answered, shrugging his shoulders slightly.

“I just figured you were hungover, guess I didn’t notice you weren’t drinking last night. Wait, why didn’t you drink last night?” Sam asked, realizing that didn’t make sense anyway. 

“Stomach hurt,” Dean said.

“You didn’t feel good yesterday already?” 

Dean shook his head. Sam sighed, closing his eyes. How could he not have noticed? He certainly wasn’t going to be winning any ‘best brother’ awards anytime soon. 

“S’okay Sammy,” Dean said, reading his mind, as always. 

“Just try to get some sleep, cause I’m guessing you were up most of the night huh?” Sam told him.

“Yeah,”

“Well I’m just gonna be over here on my computer, trying to figure some stuff out, but I’ll be here if you need anything okay?” Sam said, giving his brother’s shoulder a quick squeeze to offer some bit of comfort without embarrassing him. 

When Dean didn’t reply, he stood up, heading back over to his bed and opening his computer again. He kept one eye on his brother though, worried. Dean rarely got sick, but when he did it tended to kick his ass. Sam wasn’t exactly great at taking care of him, clearly. He was certainly going to do a better job from now on though. 

16 notes · See All

8. Before a Match reverse | Miya Osamu

Disclaimer: All of the characters belongs to Haruichi Furudate, they’re not mine.

Warnings: description of vomit, fever.

Okay, this is the other part of the request of @happy-hufflepuff44-blog so I hope you like this 💘 I tried my best aaaand that’s it, hope you enjoy! Sorry if it’s a bit long ):

‘‘Aaagh, I forgot my kneepads!’’ 

Osamu sighed with annoyance at his brother’s yelling, finally putting on his own kneepads in the dressing room. He really didn´t wan’t to play that day, because he wasn’t feeling good and he hadn’t had any sleep last night for being stuck in the bathroom trying to puke his guts out without any results, just bile and saliva. His mother told him not to go that day after taking care of him, but there he was, in the dressing room where they were just a few minutes for the warm up to start.

‘‘Samu, do ya’ have another pair of kneepads?’‘ Atsumu asks, peering at him with an innocent smile. 

‘‘No, I don’t.’‘ Osamu responds without even looking at him, this time grabbing his phone to see the message he had received.

‘‘Ahhhg, why am I so stupid?!’’ Atsumu yelled in frustration, grabbing his head with both hands.

Osamu grimaced.

‘‘Tsumu don’t yell. Why do you have to be so noisy? Damn.” Suna said, while he was applying deodorant in both armpits.

Osamu thanked him in silence.

“I’m in a crisis ya’know?! I have ta’ yell!”

‘‘I think Kita has another pair, maybe you should ask him.’‘ Aran enters the conversation, he looked ready to play.

‘‘Ugh, he’s gonna kill me.’‘

Osamu answered the text he got and told his mother that he was fine, clearly lying just to not make her worry. After that, he sighed slowly, putting down his phone on the bench and feeling a bit off as his stomach gurgled silently. Osamu placed a hand on it and rubbed the organ up and down. His teammates were helping his brother to find kneepads so they didn’t notice that.

That was until he stood up abruptly, capturing Suna’s attention a bit.

‘’Samu, you okay? Where are you going?’‘ Aran looked at him too, as Atsumu exits the dressing room abruptly to finally go and find Kita. He had no option.

Osamu removed his hand from his stomach.

‘‘Bathroom, I gotta pee.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

‘‘K’ay, don’t take too long.”

Osamu breathed shakily as he got out rapidly of the dressing room, entering almost immediately in the bathroom, which was next door. He felt cold and warm at the same time, the same way he felt last night, as a wave of dizziness crossed his head. His footstep were lazy when he walked in and doubled over in the nearest cubicle, gagging slightly in front of the toilet.

He placed a hand on his belly again and rubbed it, as he saw the tiny puddle of transparent saliva mixed with the water in front of him. He was feeling bad, too bad that he regretted not listening to his mother advice. Atsumu didn’t know about his condition, because he had always been a heavy sleeper so he couldn’t blame him for not being there with him. However, he wanted to go home.

Now.

Another uneasy gurgle sounded from his belly, and he gagged again. There was a lot of saliva, but nothing more than that. He was so nauseous.

“Samu, you in there?” Suna’s voice alarmed him and he coughed a bit, before getting out of the cubicle. “Dude, are you sure you’re okay?”

Osamu sighed and went to the sink, washing his hands immediately.

“Yes.” He said, when the wave of nausea went off a bit. “Why?”

“You seem off.” Suna wasn’t an idiot, but if Osamu didn’t wan’t to tell him what was wrong, he would respect that. “Like… tired.”

“I didn’t sleep well, that’s all.”

Osamu didn’t know why he lied to Suna, because he was feeling too bad and his stomach was almost killing him. Why didn’t he said something about it so he could go home? It wasn’t a strong opponent whose they were facing and it wasn’t an important match either. Maybe he couldn’t just drop a match because of Kita, he didn’t know.

“Let’s go then.” Suna patted on Samu’s back, making him lost his balance a bit. “Everybody’s on the court already.”

The dark haired boy turned and got out of the bathroom, as Samu grabbed the sink to not fall down. Geez, when was the last time he felt like that?

“Samu, i’m waiting!”

The gray haired twin took a deep breath and exhaled before he went to walk out the bathroom again. After that, he walked to the court next to Suna. His vision clearly a bit blurred because of the light.

He really didn’t feel like playing.

When the warm ups started, Osamu almost failed all of the practice spikes and practice receiving. The coach looked a bit worried, because he knew that when Osamu failed it was because something was wrong or because he wasn’t totally concentrated in the game. Maybe if he fails in the first set, he would be getting out of the game.

That was the thoughts of the coach, at least.

“Samu, you suck.” Atsumu said, almost mad at him for not giving his best. “I’m not fucking doing passes to you if ya’ keep failing my sets.”

“At least I have kneepads, asshole.”

“Excuuuse me? Without kneepads I am better than you, so screw ya’.”

Samu breathed heavily, hearing the ring that meant the end of the warm ups and the start of the game. Atsumu just growled at him and turned to go to the net.

“Samu, can ya’ walk more faster?” The blond snapped at him, noticing how his brother was walking so slow behind him. “The game’s gonna start if ya don’t know.”

Osamu blinked rapidly, trying to catch his breath after the warm up. He doubled over and holded his whole body with both hands on his knees. Geez, he felt really uneasy, dizzy and nauseous. His vision was more blurry than before and he felt a strong wave of nausea rock his entire body.

“Tsumu, wait.”

The blonde turned madly at him and raised an eyebrow when he saw him bending. The rest of the team didn’t noticed this because they kept walking towards the net. They were standing in a row.

“Samu, the fuck you’re doing? Let’s go.”

“I- I don’t feel good.” he breathed out, almost choking himself as he bringed a hand up to cover his mouth.

“What ya’ mean? Hey, Samu.”

Atsumu looked confused and annoyed as he got close to him, but when he saw him gag hard on his hand with both eyes closed, he freaked out.

“Shit.” Atsumu ran out to him. “Wait, fuck.”

Atsumu grabbed him by the shirt and walked faster than before with him, this time going to the other side of the court, where the bathroom was. He didn’t care if the game was going to start now, even if he heard the coach and Kita desperately calling for them.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?You okay?” Atsumu asks, almost immediately when the two were already inside a cubicle.

Osamu groaned, both eyes going a bit watery.

“I-” he swallowed hard, closing his eyes to ease the nausea and the churning on his belly. That time Atsumu noticed how flushed he was. “False alarm. Sorry, let’s go to the court.”

“You’re sick.”

“I’m not.” Osamu groaned. “I just got dizzy with the receiving warm up.”

Atsumu placed a palm abruptly onto Osamu’s forehead and grimaced with guilt. His brother was drowning in fever, there was no way he could deny that.

“Yea, and I’m Jesus.”

“Jesus is good, you’re not.”

Osamu inhaled deeply and felt his stomach turn again, so he groaned at the feeling and grabbed the angry organ with both arms. Whatever he had on his stomach (because he didn’t have breakfast that morning) was feeling so heavy in there that the only thing he wanted, was to throw up and get over with it.

He spitted saliva on the toilet, feeling a bit of bitter taste on his tongue.

“You’re not gonna play like this.” Atsumu stated, as he heard the bathroom door being open. “It’s like suicide.”

“Miya’s? You there?”

Osamu placed a hand on his face and Atsumu got out of the cubicle to face the angry shadow of Kita. That was the last thing they wanted.

“What happened?” He asked, walking towards the blonde. “Why did you run like that? The game already started and the coach is mad. I know we are facing a weak opponent but you two should be more responsable. Especially you, Atsumu. We already talked about it when you ask me for kneepads.”

Osamu felt something revolving inside of him, and he burped slightly on his fist. Feeling the taste of acid and putrid eggs. He groaned at it, clearly disgusted. He was feeling so sick.

“Kita-san, I already said sorry and Samu’s sick.” Atsumu said in defense, almost immediately when Kita finished his sentence. “And he was about to hurl, that’s the reason behind us running. Sorry.”

“Where’s he?”

“The last cubicle.”

Osamu cursed on his mind, as he burped again on his fist. After that, he coughed and bended to face the toilet.

“You ok there?” Kita was so soft when he wanted to. “You look terrible. I’m surprised at how I didn’t noticed this before, sorry about that.”

“Tsumu’s my brother and he didn’t knew too. Don’t worry, Kita-san.”

Osamu gagged slightly, bringing up a bit of yellow bile inside the toilet. Kita placed a hand on his already soaked back and started to make circles on it. Atsumu was outside the cubicle but he was staring at the scene with a worried expression.

Why didn’t Samu told him?

“Fu-fuck.” Osamu gagged hard again, bringing nothing more than bile as he coughed. Atsumu wrinkled his nose.

“Just let it happen, you’ll feel better after that.” Kita said, still rubbing circles on his back. “Tsumu, go to the court. The team needs you, I got him.”

“Bu-”

“Go.”

Atsumu watched in horror at how his brother jerked in pain, coughing and gagging loudly. He didn’t wan’t to let him alone there, he knew that Kita was a good caretaker, he was even better than him. However, this time he felt like it was his responsibility since he didn’t noticed how sick he was.

“Tsumu, I got him.” Kita said again, with a serious glare and Atsumu sighed.

Osamu belched loudly and he felt something stuck on the back of his throat, everything hurted inside of him and he was already crying because of it. He wasn’t sobbing, though. Just crying.

“Relax, Samu. I got’cha.”

His lips shivered when he heard Atsumu’s intent of soft voice and this time he let out a pained sob. The hand that was making circles on his back, now was from his brother. Maybe he was hallucinating in fever but, that felt kind of good in all of his misery.

Not that he didn’t like Kita’s, but it was different.

“Relax, Samu. You’re too tense damn it.”

“C-can’t.” Samu coughed out, gagging at the end. “La-ast night was the same. I just- just wanna puke already. It hurts.”

Atsumu grimaced, and then he made Samu kneel in front of the toilet as he kneeled by his side. Kita watched them with a serious look from outside, as he glared at the people who entered the bathroom to pee or wash his hands.

“K’ay.” Atsumu said, sighing at the end as he still rubbed Samu’s back and shoulders. “Do you remember that time when I puked on you accidentally after I ate cheese by mistake and you started to puke too because of it when we where like ten?”

Osamu gagged almost immediately.

“You said it smelled like rancy cheese and sour milk, and it tasted like-”

A strangled sound was heard from Osamu’s throat and before Atsumu could say more, Osamu retched a mouthful of sick in front of the toilet, splashing it in the water below his chin. Immediately at the end, Osamu coughed and belched sickly another mouthful without any break.

“There you go.” Atsumu said, wrinkling his nose at the smell of putrid eggs. “Just let that shit out of your body.”

Osamu tried to catch his breath between rounds, but another gurgle interrupted him and he threw up another mouthful of thick yellow vomit mixed with colours like pale brown and green. He felt disgusting, but relieved at the same time.

“The fuck you ate? Gee-g ez.” Atsumu gagged slightly on his shoulder because of the smell, as Osamu gagged another round of colorful sick. This time more liquid than before and it came out from his nose too, messing up a bit the edge of the toilet because of the splash.

“He is really sick.” Kita said, as Osamu heaved again and jerked more stinky liquid inside the toilet, the sound of it echoing in the entire bathroom. “Pass me your mom number when he’s done. He has to be home.”

“She’s working now, but I think this is an emergency.” The blonde said, as he heard Osamu’s groan when he threw up more from his nose.

“It is.”

Atsumu nodded and covered his nose as he still rubbed his brother back. He was panting now and just gagging tiny puddles of sick.

“You see? It wasn’t something hard to do.” Atsumu said, as Osamu blew his nose inside the sick toilet.

“Don’t you ever remember me that day again, you asshole and stupid lactose intolerant.”

Atsumu laughed a bit and when he saw him flushing the toilet he stood up, still covering his nose. The gray haired twin sighed with a pained and flushed cheeks expression as he sitted down in the floor next to the toilet, grabbing his stomach with one hand and rubbing it up and down.

He burped, swallowing the awful taste.

“How you feel now? Better?” Kita asks, and Osamu nods.

“Kind of, my belly’s still hurting and I’m cold.” Osamu closed his watery eyes, breathing slowly. “I wanna go home, I really don’t feel good.”

Atsumu passed the phone number of his mother to Kita and he immediately called her as he got out of the bathroom. Atsumu peered at his brother with an innocent smile when Kita was gone. Osamu opened his eyes at the feeling.

“What?” Osamu snapped at him, his face tired of everything and red because of the fever.

“Well.” Atsumu cleared his throat with a smirk. “Since you won’t be playing, I think you should pass me your kneepads.”

You gotta be kidding me.

That was what Osamu thought in annoyance, but in the other way he was greatful for having him in there. He was an asshole, but he was his brother.

His twin brother.

The only one who could take care of him properly since they were kids.

29 notes · See All

Okay I’m breaking my own rules by filling this request when I have a bunch more that came before this. But for some reason I was inspired by this request! So, thank you anon for the lovely prompt and it is fact you who rocks!!

“Blair!” Dakota called out in the weakest and strained voice. The words came out sounding muffled and thick from having just thrown up over the side of the bed. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and let his head fall forward as a string of bile hung from lips. Thankfully, the puddle of vomit now staining the carpet wouldn’t be too hard to clean up because Dakota’s stomach had practically nothing left to give up. This was the third time in the same hour that the nausea became too intense, too quickly, leaving Dakota with not time to prepare. All he could do was lean away from the bed and let his body do its thing.

Dakota sure did swish that his body would do its thing faster. It had been almost six hours since the ache in Dakota’s belly woke him up. And every hour since, he had not stop throwing up even when nothing but air forced its way up his throat. He clutched at his chest, grimacing from the pain that spread throughout his chest.

“I’m coming!” He heard Blair call from down the hallway. Soon after, she appeared in the bedroom with a clean bucket, and a face cloth in her hand. To Dakota, she looked fuzzy and uneven, almost like he was looking at her through choppy water.

She crouched by the bed, making sure that didn’t step in the pile of sick. Blair gave Dakota a pout and held his face in her hands. He was still burning up despite the fever reducers she had given him and the many obsessive time that she wiped his face with the cold cloth. By this point, she was simply going through the motions of wiping away the sweat and the sick from his lips. Nothing was working and this stomach bug just kept wreaking havoc on Dakota’s gut. Blair was starting to worry, not just because his eyes had a glassy and distant look to them, but because the eyes themselves look to be sinking deeper into his skull. And his skin was the color of ash. What worried Bair even more was that she barely needed the cloth anymore to wipe away the sweat, because there was none. Judging by the dampness of the Dakota’s shirt and the bed sheets, she had a fairly good guess of where all his fluids had gone, not to mention the dozens of times that she emptied the puke bucket.

Blair petted Dakota’s hair and sucked in air through her teeth. “Kota, do you think you can keep soup down, or maybe Gatorade?”

As if to reply, another dry retch tore its way up Dakota’s throat. He lurched forward in the direction of his girlfriend, but luckily there was nothing to bring up. He shook his head weakly and allowed the momentum from the retching to pull him towards Blair. He rested his head against her chest and hiccuped. “Ah, it hurts, Blair.” He moaned into her shirt.

She kissed the top of his head while her expression grew into one of concern. “I know baby, but you have to try eating something.”

Dakota groaned because he knew she was right. Even dazed and fever-ridden, he could tell that his body was in desperate need of fluids. Any energy he had left was sapped from his muscles, making so that even holding his head was a struggle.

So, he allowed Blair to guide him to the living room where he waited for the soup to be made. To ease his stomach into it, he took a few sips of blue Gatorade. When the liquid landed in his stomach, it felt like he was trying to digest lighter fluid. Unfortunately, his stomach was a war zone, and nothing would settle properly.

When Blair placed a bowl of yellow soup on the lap tray, Dakota tried hard not to let a gag escape his mouth. He was the furthest from being hungry he’d ever been. He picked up the spoon and started to move the chicken and noodles around the bowl, until he found the nerve to put something in his belly.

Blair sat down on the couch next to Dakota after placing the bucket by their feet. Hopefully, they wouldn’t need the bucket, but she thought it best to be safe. She nodded her head as Dakota took the smallest sips of soup. This was better than nothing, she thought. At least her boyfriend wasn’t about to shrivel up like a houseplant she forgot to water.

A shiver ran up Dakota’s spine as the warm soup slipped down his throat. Each spoonful was a struggle that he needed to talk himself into swallowing. His bottom lip quivered each time he opened his mouth. When he was halfway through the soup, he had to stop because he felt his stomach beginning to churn. He looked down at his pathetic attempt to eat something and sighed. Most of the noodles were still left, because the first few mouthfuls felt like he was swallowing worms. Even now, he thought he could feel something swimming and wiggling around inside him. He set aside the bowl and covered his mouth his hand.

Blair watched him carefully as he put the spoon down. It wasn’t much, but she was happy that he tried eating something. The only problem was that Dakota looked as nauseous as a seasick passenger. She put her hand on his shoulder and said, “will you be able to keep it down?”

For a quick second, Dakota was simply staring off into space, still with his hand over his mouth. He willed himself to keep the food down, even his tummy was very unhappy with the new state of things. The nausea was just as bad as when he first woke up, but he tried not to think about this.

But he couldn’t not think about it. He hugged his middle and squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m sorry,” he breathed out. His jaw felt like it was being weighed down by a ton of rocks and saliva was quickly coating his tongue. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Please, Kota,” Blair said, sounding defeated, and more than anything she sounded worried. “We might have to go to the hospital if you can’t keep it down.” Even as Blair said this, she passed the bucket for Dakota to place it on his lap. She wasn’t about to force him to do something he had no control over.

“I’m sorry,” Dakota mumbled again. He took the bucket gratefully and spat away stringy saliva. When the first gag gurgled up his throat, he tried cutting it off by slapping a hand over his mouth. This succeeded only in making his body lurch forward. He had to keep it down, he had to, but he didn’t want to. His poor belly was in agony as he resisted the urge to throw up.

Blair could see the pain written on Dakota’s sunken face and it stabbed her in the chest. “Oh baby, it’s fine, let yourself be sick.”

Dakota didn’t need to be told twice. He moved his hand away from his mouth and immediately a surge of vomit splattered into the bucket. It was a loud heave that came from deep within belly, but Dakota didn’t have time to be embarrassed because a second gush of noodles and broth came rushing up his esophagus. When his stomach had effectively emptied itself all over again, Dakota was too weak to lift his head up.

He kept his chin buried in the bucket while he moaned, “Mm…my belly hurts so much, Bee.”

“I know, this sucks. I’m sorry,” Blair cooed as she rubbed his back. While trying to decide if they needed to go to the hospital, she lifted Dakota’s head so she could get a proper look at him. Blair had never seen Dakota so weak and lifeless. If it weren’t for her hand under his chin, his head would certainly fall forward. His eyes were hardly open, his skin was sallow, and his cheeks looked hollow. Yep, it was time to go.

“Alright, Dakota,” Blair said as she put the basin full of sick on the floor and helped her boyfriend up from the couch. “We can’t wait any longer.”

Blair felt like she was leading a zombie around. As soon as she pulled Dakota to his feet, he stumbled, and she needed to catch him. It’s a miracle that Blair managed to get Dakota in the car without being crushed by his weight. It helped that he was able to shuffle his feet, but the fever was affecting his presence so much that Dakota looked like he was sleepwalking.

Once in the car with a bucket on his lap, Dakota finally looked up. His unfocused eyes searched for Blair until he saw her coming from the house with an overnight back in her arms. She placed their things in the trunk and joined him upfront. He looked at her with big brown glassy eyes.

Blair cupped his face with her hand and gave him a weak smile. “This will all be over soon, I promise.”

Dakota blinked heavily and couldn’t seem to find the energy to open his eyes back up. “I’m tired.”

“Then sleep, Kota.” Blair leaned over and kissed his burning forehead before putting the car into drive.

48 notes · See All

Jackson doesn’t usually get carsick so I had to modify it a little to fit his character but hopefully it’s alright. I had a lot of fun with this one. It’s very soft. 

TW: depictions of vomit

“Jackson? Hey, you good?” 

Jackson startled when there was suddenly a hand waving in front of his face. He jumped in surprise then glanced over at Kaiser, who was looking back at him.

“Huh? Oh yeah. Fine, I’m fine. Watch the road,” he rushed out, trying to change the subject. He hadn’t even realized that he’d been zoning out. How long has Kaiser been trying to get his attention?

Kaiser raised an eyebrow at him in suspicion, but turned his gaze back towards the road nonetheless. They’d been stuck in traffic for the past half hour and it was literally killing Jackson. He was so nauseous he wanted to die.

“What’s going on with you?” Kaiser asked, reaching over to turn the volume on the radio down. 

“What? Nothing. Are you doing okay?” Jackson asked, deflecting this time. 

“Yeah I’m alright, I took my medicine today and I’m usually fine when I’m driving anyway, especially if it’s not hot,” Kaiser said, referring to his tendency to get carsick. It was always worse for him when it was hot or when he wasn’t driving. 

“Good,” Jackson said quickly. He was starting to be afraid to open his mouth for more than a moment at a time. 

“Are YOU okay?” Kaiser turned the question back around on him. He could see Kaiser eyeing him with a sideways glance. 

Jackson sighed, turning to look out his window. Traffic was easing up a little, so that was good. Hopefully they’d be home soon. They were coming back from a show in Kansas City, which would normally only be a 20-30 minute drive, but because of Friday night traffic, it was probably going to be at least an hour. They were still in metro KC and it had already been 35 minutes. 

“I don’t know,” Jackson finally answered. 

“Hey, babe what’s wrong?” Kaiser asked, reaching over to place a comforting hand on his knee and squeeze. 

The simple gesture coupled with his admission of something being wrong was enough to crack the facade he’d been putting up. Jackson felt his resolve crumpling, he suddenly felt like crying. 

“I just-” he broke off, voice cracking with emotion. Kaiser looked over at him, taking his eyes off the road. His face was creased with worry. “I d-don’t feel feel good,” he wavered. 

“Aw Jaz, you could’ve just told me,” Kaiser sighed. “You’ve been feeling off for a while haven’t you?” 

Jackson just nodded, slumping against the door. Kaiser turned his eyes back to the road in time to stop at another row of cars. The jolt of the car made Jackson’s stomach turn. He really was going to throw up soon. 

“Kai,” Jackson swallowed hard, “I’m gonna throw up soon,” he admitted.

“Shit, okay, hold on,” Kaiser said, reaching over to ruffle his hair, then started to dig around in the backseat for something he could throw up in. He was stuck in the middle lane of the interstate so he wouldn’t be able to pull over or exit anytime soon.

Jackson swallowed down a belch that threatened to come up, fearing it might bring more than air with it. He could feel the sub sandwich he’d eaten a few hours ago churning and sloshing inside of him, trying to bubble up his throat. He fought to keep it down, biting back a gag. 

“Kai…” he warned, teeth clenched. 

Cars behind them were starting to honk. The sound made Jackson’s head spin. His nausea ratcheted up another level, which he wouldn’t have even thought was possible. He shivered, his mouth starting to fill with metallic tasting saliva.

“Here,” Kaiser thrust a plastic bag into his hands as cars continued to honk angrily at them for holding up the lane of traffic. “Alright, alright,” Kaiser muttered, easing the car forwards as carefully as he could. 

Jackson spread his legs as far as he could, opening the bag with shaky hands. He rested his arms on top of his thighs, leaning forwards over the bag, mouth hanging open. His face was gray and chalky, sweat starting to bead on his temples. 

“Just breathe hon, you’re okay,” Kaiser said softly, reaching over to place a hand on Jackson’s back, keeping his other hand on the wheel and his eyes ahead. He knew that driving smoothly was the best thing he could do right now. 

Jackson belched over the bag, then spit out a mouthful of thick saliva that he couldn’t seem to swallow. It clung to his lips though, which was enough to make him gag. He tried to swallow it but it tripped his gag reflex, sending it all flying out of his mouth with a choking cough. 

“Oh sweetie,” Kaiser breathed out, blindly rubbing his back as he continued to navigate them through traffic as best he could. 

Jackson heaved again, coughing up another mouthful of sick into the bag. It splashed sickeningly, making his stomach gurgle, protesting loudly. He squeezed his eyes shut so he wouldn’t have to look at it, breathing heavily through the nausea that still remained. 

He stayed like that the rest of the drive home, no idea how much time had passed, while Kaiser continued to murmur sympathetic things that he couldn’t really focus on enough to hear. He didn’t throw up again, but his nausea lingered, crashing over him in sickening waves. It made his head spin and his eyes ache. He kept them tightly shut. 

“We’re almost there Jaz, how you doing?” Kaiser asked, bringing him back from the vertigo of his churning stomach.

“Not great,” he croaked, head still hung over the bag. 

“What’s going on babe? You don’t even get carsick,” Kaiser asked, probably mostly to himself. Jackson answered him with a sick groan. He didn’t know why he felt so sick. 

“Alright, we’re home,” Kaiser’s voice sounded far away. Jackson didn’t know if he could move. 

His door opened, then the bag was taken out of his hands. A moment later he felt a cool hand on his cheek. He leaned into the touch even though he was cold. He heard a click, probably his seatbelt, then Kaiser grabbed both of Jackson’s hands in his, helping him up out of the car. 

He leaned against his boyfriend, dropping his head down onto the nearest shoulder. Kaiser reached up to pet his hair for a second, then looped an arm around his waist to rest on his lower back, gently pushing him inside the house after unlocking the door. 

The next time Jackson opened his eyes he was sitting at the edge of their bed. Kaiser crouched down in front of him, that worried look on his face again. 

“I don’t feel good,” Jackson said, eyes blinking tiredly. He hadn’t realized it, but he was so tired. 

“Yeah, probably cause you’ve got a fever,” Kaiser said, smiling softly. 

“I’ave a fever?” he mumbled, words slurring together.

Kaiser nodded, “You weren’t carsick. You’ve got the flu baby,” he said. 

“Fuck,” Jackson groaned. No wonder he felt like he’d been run over by a truck. 

“Here, this should help,” Kaiser pressed two red pills into one hand a glass of water in the other. He downed the medicine, hands shaking as he brought the water to his lips. The glass was taken from him as soon as he lowered it. He’d let his eyes slip shut again, practically dead to the world. He let Kaiser maneuver him up onto the bed fully and lay him down. He curled up, draping an arm over his still churning stomach and pressed his face into the pillow. 

“Alright, now sleep, I’ll be here if you need anything,” Kaiser said, tousling his hair. He opened his mouth to tell him that he’d put the trash can next to the bed in case he needed it, but stopped when he realized that Jackson was already fast asleep. He could only hope that it was a short bug and that he’d feel better when he woke up. 

15 notes · See All

Okay so I decided to set this later on in the heroes of olympus series so they’d be older. I’m not sure where exactly it falls but sometime after son of neptune (no. 7 out of all of them or no. 2 of that series) but anyway, they’re with Jason and Leo too. I’m also going to leave their quest super vague cause idk what to do. 

TW: depictions of vomit

“Percy, you doing okay?” Annabeth asked for probably the hundredth time, glancing back at him. He was trudging along, slowing them down, Jason and Leo had taken the lead even though it was supposed to be Percy’s quest.

“I’ll make it,” Percy answered, his voice hoarse and shaky. He suddenly pitched forwards to vomit again, probably also for the hundredth time, or at least that’s what it felt like.

Annabeth sighed, hurrying over to stand with him as he continued to get sick, gagging and heaving. “Guys, hold up,” she called to Leo and Jason, who stopped and turned around. 

“Oh Gods,” Jason muttered, walking over to them.

“He’s really sick,” Leo said, biting his lip. They were worried, all of them. 

“I’m okay,” Percy coughed, spitting into the puddle of vomit he’d left on the ground. He straightened up slowly, clutching his stomach, and muffled a belch into his fist. He really did not feel good. 

“No you’re not, Perce we need to stop,” Annabeth said, hovering worriedly at his shoulder, a hand on his back. 

“We don’t have time,” Percy shook his head, “I’ll be fine, just keep going,” he said, waving Annabeth off and pushing past Jason and Leo to continue on the trail. They only had until the winter solstice, three days, and a lot of miles left. 

Jason and Leo hesitated, looking at Annabeth. Technically Percy was in charge, so if he said to keep going… But he was seriously sick, he probably shouldn’t even be walking, let alone leading a quest. 

“He’s right, we need to keep going,” Annabeth sighed, shrugging at the two boys as she turned to follow her stubborn boyfriend. The other two followed close behind, hiking alongside the river they were following.

After only a few minutes Percy had fallen to the rear again, Jason in front, then Leo, then Annabeth, worriedly glancing over her shoulder every few minutes. Percy looked bad, she wasn’t going to lie. His face was practically gray, his dark hair matted to his forehead with sweat, lips white and chapped. Even his eyes looked sick, hazy, unfocused. He was in no shape to be out here. 

Annabeth slowed, falling back in line with Percy. She was quiet for a few minutes, falling into step with him. His unsteady gait worried her even more, he seemed like he could hardly stay upright. 

“Percy, I think we should stop,” she said, hoping to reason with him. 

“W-we can’t,” Percy said, but his voice broke as his legs gave out, crumpling towards the ground. Annabeth managed to catch him under his arms, holding him against her body.

“Guys! A little help,” she squeaked, trying to support his weight. 

Jason and Leo rushed over to grab Percy from Annabeth’s grasp, draping one of his arms around each of their shoulders to prop him up between them. Percy’s head lolled forwards, slumping over as if he were unconscious. 

“There’s a motel up there,” Annabeth gestured to the street up the bank from where they were. “We’re stopping.”

Jason and Leo nodded, not daring to argue. They knew she was right, he was in no shape to be walking, clearly. So although they were short on time, their best bet was to let Percy get some rest, and hopefully get better. So they dragged him up the bank and into the motel. The clerk at the desk eyed them skeptically, looking at the passed out boy Leo was now holding up on his own, since Jason was the only one old enough to reserve a room. 

“Guys, I’m gonna-” Percy squeaked, hunching forwards with a gag between Jason and Leo. 

“Sit him down on the bed,” Annabeth instructed, grabbing a trash can from the corner of the room and setting it down in front of Percy just in time for him to vomit up a mouthful of stomach acid and bile, there was nothing left in him. He needed some water .

“Annabeth,” Percy croaked, head lolling to rest on her shoulder as he continued to dry heave, whole body lurching painfully. He knew as well as she did that he was empty, nothing left to bring up.

“You’re okay seaweed brain, just relax,” she said, wrapping an arm around him. Her other hand moved to brush his hair out of his face, combing her fingers through it. “You wanna get him some water?” she asked the other two boys, who were watching them, worry evident in their faces as they leaned against the wall.

“I got it,” Leo said, dashing off to the bathroom to fill up a glass of water.

“He’s gonna be fine Annabeth,” Jason said, despite how worried he was himself, “Just needs a little sleep,” 

“Yeah, I know,” she nodded, “Hear that? You’re gonna be just fine Percy. We’re gonna get some water in you and then you can sleep okay?” she turned her attention to Percy, who was still slumped miserably against her side, tears of exertion sliding silently down his cheeks. He was gonna be fine. Right?

27 notes · See All

Aw thank you!! 

This is the second part to THIS fic in which Mateo is sick alone. Here is Shawn to the rescue! I set my alarm super early so I could write this in secret lol so enjoy! 

The sun hadn’t even come up yet, but Shawn was already barrelling down the highway. He checked to make sure that his supplies weren’t falling and spilling all over the place in the back seat. Looking back, he found that the bottles of ginger ale and Pepto bismol were still upright and good to go. It was more than likely that Mateo had this stuff at home, but Shawn wanted to come prepared. By the sound of his boyfriend’s voice over the phone, Shawn figured it was best if all Mateo had to do was open the door. This wasn’t how Shawn imagined his Saturday morning going, but when you receive a phone call at 7am that starts off with the sound of retching, it becomes pretty clear that sleeping is the least of your concerns.

Thankfully, Shawn didn’t have to break the door down because Mateo was there to let him in. Of course, between the time Shawn knocked on the door and the time it took Mateo to stumble out of the bathroom, a cure for the stomach flu probably could have been invented.

The door swung open to reveal a dishevelled Mateo who was leaning against the doorframe. His hair was sticking up in every direction, his white shirt was clinging to his chest from sweat, and his eyes looked sunken. The first thing he did upon seeing Shawn was lose his balance as he tried to take the grocery bags from his hands.

“Whoa, easy there,” Shawn said as he awkwardly caught his boyfriend, his arms still full of supplies. As Mateo stumbled forward, he took advantage of the situation to just rest his head on Shawn’s shoulder. Already, this sudden clinginess set off alarms in Shawn’s head. Those alarms continued to sound as the heat from Mateo’s body rolled off him.

Shawn set the bags down on the floor so he could properly get a look at his boyfriend. He brought his arms up slowly to hold Mateo’s face in his hands. Being so close, Shawn could see that the boy’s eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with dark circles. He could indeed feel the fever as if the heat were pooling in his palms.

Shawn kissed Mateo’s nose before letting his hands fall back to his side. He looked around the apartment and found a pillow and a blanket in front of the bathroom door. The bathroom door was open, and the sour smell of vomit was floating through the house. Shawn turned back to his boyfriend who had promptly curled up on the couch with his arms wrapped around his torso.

He knelt by the couch, right at Mateo’s head, and ran his fingers through the boy’s damp hair. “Your belly’s not feeling so good this morning, huh?”

Mateo curled up tighter. He shook his head weakly while pouting, looking like a kicked puppy.

“When did all this start?”

“Around 4 in the morning,” Mateo mumbled. “I’m sorry I called you so early.”

Shawn’s legs were starting to hurt as he crouched by Mateo, so he crossed his legs and sat down on the ground. “I don’t mind. How long ago did you throw up?”

“I don’t know, twenty minutes maybe.” Mateo frowned. It hurt his head to think so much. The only reason he knew this was because a rhythm was forming. It was as if his stomach had a certain time it took to recharge between bouts. Judging by his current nausea, he’d say his time was quickly running out.

He squeezed his eyes shut and felt that particular ache in his gut that meant his rest was over. But he was so tired, and the bathroom was so far away. “Shawn?” he said after swallowing thickly.

“Yeah, hon?”

“There’s a bucket under the sink…”

Shawn quickly stood up and didn’t bother to wait for the rest of the sentence. He could see by the pallor of Mateo’s face that time was of the essence.

Mateo lifted himself up onto his elbows and covered his mouth with his hand. He started to wonder if running to the bathroom would be a better idea, but then Shawn reappeared with the bucket.

“I’m here, I’m here,” Shawn said hurriedly as he saw Mateo’s throat working hard to swallow the flood of saliva in his mouth. Once again, he knelt on the floor, and held the bucket under Mateo’s chin. With his other hand, he rubbed circles on his boyfriend’s back.

Mateo let his hand fall away. He breathed heavily over the bucket, waiting for the inevitable. A string of spit fell from his lips which he spat away. A wet belch burbled up his throat, with a gag as its tail. He gagged once emptily, but the second heave proved fruitful. A thin stream of pale vomit landed in the bucket with a sickening splash as his stomach lurched. His shoulder rolled forward, but Shawn was there to keep him steady.

Shawn looked away to grimace, but he kept patting his boyfriend’s back. “You’re doing good. That’s it, babe.”

Mateo didn’t feel like he was doing good. He felt like he was doing very terrible actually. He heaved again, this time bringing up a smaller wave of sick. After three hours of intermittent vomiting, his stomach was finally starting to feel empty. And Mateo hated it. It hurt like hell as a dry retch seized his chest.

When his stomach began to settle, Mateo groaned and clutched his chest. “God, that hurts.”

“I thought you might be at this stage,” Shawn said, as he brought the bucket of sick to the bathroom. Mateo listened while Shawn dumped the contents of the basin into the toilet. He heard the shower running for a few seconds, then the toilet flush. Thirty seconds later, Shawn emerged with a spotless bucket ready for the next round. “I brought some soup in case you wanted to try eating something.”

Mateo simply moaned and buried his face in the couch cushions. “You’re trying to kill me.”

Shawn chuckled as he returned to the living room with a blanket in his hands. “No, just trying to make it hurt less.” He put the bucket on the floor by Mateo’s head, and stood over him with the blanket spread open. “Are you comfy here?”

Mateo nodded, and a second later he was engulfed by the blanket. He shivered and was going to ask for another cover, but he knew what Shawn would say.

“Try to get some sleep,” Shawn whispered as he tucked the blanket behind Mateo’s back.

The world slowed down for the first time since Mateo had woken up. The room stopped spinning, and everything felt much safer. When he closed his eyes, the softest kiss landed on his head. Still with his eyes closed, he smiled weakly. “I love you,” he mumbled as he drifted deeper into sleep.

Shawn stopped moving all of a sudden. The biggest grin spread across his face and warmth flooded his body. He put his hand over his mouth in an unnecessary attempt to hide his joy. “I love you too,” he said softly.

32 notes · See All

lol I love this. It also gave me an idea for another good winchester fic that I might write later or tomorrow.

TW: vomit under the cut

“Remind me why we have to take this stupid plane again?” Dean asked.

They’d only been in the air for a few minutes but already Dean could feel the large meal he’d eaten in the airport sloshing back and forth in his stomach, the motion of the plane jostling him and making him feel somewhat nauseous. 

“Because if Jody’s right, we’ve got like 4 hours before this thing goes on a feeding spree and then disappears for the next 29 years,” Sam sighed, glancing over at his brother worriedly. He knew that Dean and planes did not get along well.

“Well it could be someone else’s problem in 29 years then,” Dean grumbled, hunching forwards in his seat to cradle his stomach. Unfortunately the motion put added pressure on his already bloated stomach, which forced up a wet belch. Dean groaned and swallowed down a mouthful of something nasty. 

“You don’t mean that,” Sam said, “I know this isn’t your favorite, but it would’ve taken us like 6 hours to drive, and this is only a 50 minute flight. We’ll be down before you know it,” he tried to reassure Dean. After all, he’d survived a 9 hour flight to Scotland, surely he could survive this one to Denver. 

“Ugh, Sam,” Dean moaned, flopping back in his seat. Sam frowned, Dean was being even weirder than usual. Upon a closer look, Sam noticed that Dean’s hair was matted to his forehead, damp with sweat. His face was chalk white and his eyes were hazy, unfocused. 

“Here, you look like you’re gonna be sick,” Sam said softly, grabbing one of the plastic bags from the seat in front of him. He opened it quickly and pressed it into Dean’s shaking hands.

“Fuck,” Dean hissed, breathing slowly, eyes drifting shut. One hand moved to rest on his stomach, which Sam could see was bloated out against his belt, pressing in uncomfortably. He’d told Dean to slow down on the chicken nuggets back in the airport, but he knew his brother liked to stress eat sometimes. It was coming back to bite him in the ass now though, just like it always did. 

The plane bounced through a pocket of air, and that was all it took for Dean to lurch forwards over the bag and heave up all of the food he’d eaten. He hardly caught his breath before another wave took over him, then another, and another. 

Sam had placed a hand on Dean’s back hesitantly, not sure if his brother was in the mood to be comforted or if touching him would earn Sam a punch in the face. To his surprise Dean didn’t even react. Dean was also burning up, Sam realized in surprise. No wonder he’d looked so sick a minute ago, he really was sick! Jesus this was some bad timing. 

“Jeez Dean, breath, come on,” Sam coaxed him into letting him take the bag from him, quickly tossing it into the trash as the flight attendant passed, looking at them sympathetically. Dean pressed a fist to his mouth, muffling a queasy burp. 

“M’not done,” he mumbled.

“I know,” Sam sighed, grabbing the bag from in front of his own seat. “You’re sick,” he added.

Dean shrugged, taking the bag from him dejectedly. 

“Dean, why didn’t you say anything?” Sam asked, rolling his eyes. So stubborn.

“Dunno Sam, I just didn’t,” Dean said quietly, avoiding eye contact. Sam sighed, rolling his eyes again as Dean groaned, clutching at his stomach and leaning forwards over the bag again.

“You’re impossible,” Sam sighed, reaching over to rub Dean’s back in circles as he breathed heavily over the bag. This flight was gonna seem a whole lot longer than 50 minutes. 

21 notes · See All
Prompt suggestion❤️: kaiser, Hazel, Nathan and Jackson are hanging out at a cabin for the weekend when Nathan starts to get sick, he puts off telling them how he feels until he can’t bear it anymore and starts throwing up. They all help take care of him.

OMG thanks so much, I love this one!! I’m a sucker for group fics and I actually don’t think I’ve written hardly any, which is crazy. Also, I kind of turned it into a little joke because they’ve got so many allergies between them lol (Jackson can’t have dairy, Kaiser can’t have gluten, Nathan can’t have corn or sesame)

“Hey, you guys want to head in and start on dinner?” Kaiser asked, pulling himself out of the water to sit on the deck. 

“Sounds good, I’m starving,” Hazel agreed.

“What are we making tonight?” Jackson asked, getting out of the lake as well.

“How about spaghetti,” Hazel suggested, swimming over to the dock to get out herself. She walked over to where Nathan was lounging in a deck chair to grab her towel. He wasn’t a big fan of being in the water so he’d opted to do some tanning instead. 

“Gluten,” Kaiser shook his head. “We could do enchilladas.”

“Corn,” Hazel shook her head, glancing at Nathan, who was making a face at the suggestion. “Potato soup?”

“Dairy,” Jackson shook his head. 

Huh. This was going to be more difficult than they thought. 

“I could grill up some hamburgers. Jackson  just won’t use cheese and I won’t use a bun,” Kaiser shrugged, wrapping himself up in a towel. 

“Nathan will probably have to do no bun as well cause I think they’re sesame buns,” Jackson said. 

“That’s fine,” Nathan mumbled, pushing himself up from the chair carefully and wrapping his own towel around himself, mostly to cover up how bloated he’d realized his stomach was. He hadn’t been feeling good since lunch but figured it would just get better if he just lounged around and took it easy, but in fact the opposite had happened. He felt worse than earlier. 

Sitting in the hot sun had made the upset in his stomach turn to nausea, sweat prickling on his skin and making him feel too hot and too cold at the same time. Maybe that was the fever talking, he was pretty sure he had one now. 

“You sure?” Hazel asked, leaning against his shoulder. He cringed, hoping she couldn’t feel the fever. She’d probably just assume if was from the sun though, he supposed.

“Yeah, lettuce burger is fine with me,” he shrugged, biting back a gag at the thought of eating anything. This was bad, this was really bad. The last place he wanted to be sick was at this cabin in the middle of nowhere with a group of people. But there was nothing he could do about it now, he was definitely sick. 

He followed the rest of them inside, hoping as a last ditch effort that the air conditioning inside would make him feel better. Maybe lunch had just upset his stomach and now he was overheated? Probably not. But it was worth a shot. 

After going inside he went to the bathroom, splashing some cool water on his face and wiping down his chest and his arms with a wet rag to cool him off. It didn’t help. Not enough anyway. It did feel good to hold something cold to his stomach though, which was definitely bloated, pressing against the waistband of his swim trunks. 

Nathan exited the bathroom and headed to the bedroom him and Hazel were staying in while they were at the cabin. He figured that the rest of them were in the kitchen starting on dinner, probably annoyed that he hadn’t stuck around to help. He couldn’t find himself to care at the moment though, he was starting to feel really bad.

As he walked down the hallway, he found that his vision was spinning, making him even more queasy. He hugged his belly as he stumbled into their room, arm pressed against the wall for support. To his surprise, however, Hazel was sitting on the bed looking at her phone. He immediately straightened up as much as he could, fighting dizziness and nausea. 

“Hey, there you are!” Hazel looked up, smiling when she saw him. The smile quickly faded when she saw how flushed he looked. She’d thought it was just from being out int he sun, but something had told her that it wasn’t just that. 

“I was in the bathroom,” he mumbled, his jaw feeling too heavy to speak. 

“Are you okay?” she asked. Nathan didn’t answer. There was a lump in his throat and his tummy was squeezing inside of him. He was afraid of what would happen if he opened his mouth. “Baby what’s wrong?” Hazel got up from the bed, quickly moving to Nathan’s side. She gently grabbed his arm to steady him just in time for him to pitch forward and vomit all over the floor, narrowly missing both of their feet. 

“Oh jeez, okay hon, you’re alright,” Hazel stuttered for a moment, obviously taken off guard, before regaining her composure. She wrapped an arm around him to keep him upright as he hunched forwards, continuing to gag up their lunch. She could feel the heat radiating off of him, and it definitely was not just from being outside. He had a fever for sure. 

“S-sorry, I couldn’t m-move, I-” Nathan cried once the heaves finally tapered off, tears falling down his flushed cheeks. 

“Aw sweetie, it’s not a big deal, I’ll clean it up no problem, come here,” she shushed him, pulling him into her arms. 

Nathan let out a sob, “I don’t feel good!” He pressed his face into her shoulder, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist. 

“I’m so sorry Nath,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek and rubbing her hands up and down his back until he calmed down. Then she carefully pulled him away from the mess and led him over to sit on the bed. 

“I’m sorry,” he sniffed, “I didn’t want to ruin the weekend.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault. I’m just sorry you don’t feel well. I’ll take care of you though okay?” she told him, wiping the tears off of his cheeks with her thumb. 

She walked over to Nathan’s weekend bag and pulled out a pair of boxers and a t-shirt, tossing them onto the bed for him to change out of his swim suit. 

“I’m gonna go tell Kaiser and Jaz that you aren’t feeling good and get some stuff to clean up with. You change into something more comfy and lay down to relax, I’ll be right back,” Hazel said, exiting the room and pulling the door shut on her way out. 

Nathan sighed, hanging his head in his hands. He couldn’t believe he’d just puked all over the floor of Kaiser’s parents cabin in front of his girlfriend. His tummy was still churning, so he pressed a hand to it, feeling his shorts digging into the underside of his belly. Hazel was right, he should change. He carefully put on the boxers and the shirt then crawled miserably under the covers, feeling suddenly cold. 

Hazel came back and checked on him a moment later, kissing his forehead, before moving to clean the floor. When she was finished she grabbed the trash can from the bathroom and placed it beside Nathan on the floor, just in case. When she sat down at the edge of the bed to check on him again, she found that he was fast asleep, arms cradling his sickly tummy. 

Good, she thought, maybe he just needs to sleep it off. 

19 notes · See All
Hi, I don't know if you're still taking prompts, but after reading your adorable carsickness fic for Madix I had an idea. Maybe the 4 of them (dakota, blair, riley, madix) are all stuck in a house together because of a storm (or quarantine lol) or something and madix is coming down with the stomach flu but he's trying to hard not to throw up for Riley's sake but eventually he does and dakota goes after him so riley doesn't have to but then riley sucks it up and does anyway

Oh my gosh thank you for this lovely request! I hope you like it! 

—————

Time: 19:00

It’s been 5 hours, 34 minutes, and 6 seconds since Madix and Riley had planned to leave Dakota and Blair’s place. It’s also been 5 hours, 35 minutes, and 6 seconds since the weather network issued a formal warning urging everybody to stay off the roads.

Madix looked out the window at the so-called dangerous driving conditions and was blinded by the moonlight bouncing off the snow. He squinted and let out a sigh. It looked like they wouldn’t be going home anytime soon.

“It’s your turn, Madix,” Riley called from the kitchen table.

Madix let the curtain drop, obscuring his view of the sweet outside world. His car was right there! They were 12 kilometers from their home! But a pile of snow was in the way. Though it had only been five hours, Madix felt like they had been prisoners in Dakota’s home for three weeks already. Of course, Dakota’s place was fine. It was warm and had all the food they could possibly need, but Madix wanted to go home.

He swallowed down a wave of nausea and rejoined his friends at the table. It’s been 5 hours, 21 minutes, and 22 seconds since Madix’s stomach-ache turned into more than a stomach-ache. When he realized that he probably wouldn’t be going home that night, his uneasy feeling grew into something worse. All day, he felt kind of achy and weird. It was only when the prospect of not sleeping in his own bed had sunk in that Madix started to feel sick to his stomach. He shivered, not because of the cold – the house was actually too warm – no, he shivered because he felt his stomach churn beneath his palm.

Sitting back down at the table, Madix gathered up the pile of obscenely offensive cards and watched as the words swam before his eyes. Only one of his friends’ cards could win and it was a choice between an insulting joke about religion, an insulting joke bout race, or an insulting joke about religion and race. Obviously, the latter won, but honestly, Madix wasn’t even paying attention anymore. He put his cards down on the table and rubbed his forehead.

Riley grinned and collected his winning card. He was sitting beside Madix with his hand on his boyfriend’s thigh under the table. As Madix let out a long exhale, he gave him a curious glance.

“Everything okay?”

“Mhm,” Madix nodded without lifting his head. “Who’s next?”

For a while, the game distracted his friends from realizing that Madix was slowly getting worse. He was talking less, burping into his fist, and generally feeling like a pile of crap. Unfortunately, no game or conversation could distract him from the way his body felt like it was being poisoned.

Eventually, the game ended. Blair had won, which prompted Dakota to wonder how she got so good at such a bad game. There wasn’t much else to do after that, so Dakota poured everyone a glass of wine and they just talked. As expected, Madix’s drink sat untouched for the next hour. At least now, he could excuse himself from the table without worrying that his turn would be coming up.

Time: 20:28

Madix had been in the bathroom for far too long; his friends were no doubt getting suspicious. But he needed the time to be alone. He leaned against the sink and allowed the pain to show on his face. He looked grey and exhausted. For the tenth time in the past five hours, he wished he were at home. Actually, if his wish could have come true, he would wish for his belly to stop hurting. He didn’t want to throw up, but as the night went on and the snow kept falling, that was looking more and more like a fantasy.

As Madix left the bathroom and turned the corner, he almost ran into Dakota.

“There you are,” Dakota said. His face was hard to see because the hallway was dark, but he looked concerned. “Are you okay?”

Madix didn’t know what his face looked like in the dim lighting, but he bet it wasn’t great. “I’m fine,” came his automatic reply, then he remembered he was talking to Dakota. “…sorta.”

“Sorta?”

Madix crumpled. He let his shoulder fall against the wall, too tired to hold himself. “I don’t feel well,” he breathed out.

Dakota put his hand on Madix’s shoulder. “Why didn’t you say anything? I have Advil or Tylenol or –”

“It’s my stomach.”

“Oh.”

“But I don’t want Riley to know.”

Dakota frowned and got closer to his friend so he could hear better. Madix did look quite pale and shaky.

Madix carried on. “It’ll freak him out if I’m sick while we’re all stuck here.”

“Do you think you caught a bug?”

Madix groaned and hugged his stomach. “I don’t know, but please don’t tell him.” He started walking back to the bathroom, hoping Dakota would follow. “I’ll just take some nausea meds and ride it out.”

“If you’re sure…” Dakota said hesitantly as he pushed pills out of a blister pack. He handed them to Madix who took them gratefully. In the proper light, Dakota could see that his friend looked horrible. His cheeks flushed, and his collar was rimmed with sweat. “I’m sorry you can’t go home. Let me know how else I can help.”

“Just don’t tell Riley.”

The boys returned to the living room where the four of them were now sitting. Throughout the conversation, Dakota kept looking at his friend. Madix was next to Riley, but looked very uncomfortable. His fists were clenched around the fabric of his shirt. Each time he blinked, he kept his eyes shut for ten seconds.

It was nice that Riley seemed relaxed, Madix thought. Part of him wanted to curl up next to his boyfriend, and another part wanted to stay as far away as possible for multiple reasons. For starters, his stomach was making all these sick noises every few minutes. The pills weren’t helping much and now all he could feel was water sloshing around inside him. Also, thanks to the heat in his cheeks and heaviness in his head, Madix was almost certain he had a fever. He certainly didn’t want anyone else to catch whatever he had, but he felt like a bomb. It was only a matter of when.

During one of those ten second blinks, Madix suddenly needed to snap his eyes open as he heard his name being said. “What?” he looked around as if in a daze.

Riley had taken Madix’s hand to get his attention. “You sleepy, babe? You haven’t said anything in a while.”

“Just tired.” He smiled sleepily, hoping that he seemed fine.

“You look a bit pale,” Blair said. She was lying against Dakota but leaned forward to get a better look at Madix. “Doesn’t he?”

Riley cocked his head to the side and looked at Madix. “Yeah, kinda. Are you feeling okay?”

Madix didn’t like having everyone look at him at once. He knew he looked bad, and he knew his friends were just worried. He glanced at Dakota who was rather hard to read in that moment. He was actually hoping for Dakota to save him but that didn’t happen.

What did happen though is that Madix’s stomach chose that moment to gurgle. Oh God, this can’t be happening, he thought. The room was suddenly boiling hot. His skin felt all tingly and slick with sweat.

“Babe, talk to us.” Riley’s voice was like a faraway sound at this point to Madix. His head was spinning, and his vision was blurry. He knew he was in trouble when saliva flooded his mouth. If he was planning on saying anything, that plan was never going to come to fruition. Madix’s stomach lurched, causing him to gag. He shot forward, clamped a hand over his mouth and sprang up from the couch.

The three of them were left staring at Madix’s back as the poor boy ran down the hall. Riley looked confused and spooked at the same time. He was awkwardly sitting on the side of the couch, as if he wanted to get up.

Dakota actually did get up. “It’s okay, I got him.” He went after him.

In the bathroom, Dakota found his friend on his knees, heaving into the toilet. He knelt down next to Madix just as a torrent of sick gushed from his mouth.

“Alright,” Dakota said as he put a hand between Madix’s shoulder blades. “That’s it, man, you’re okay.”

There wasn’t time in between retches for Madix to acknowledge his friend’s presence; he was too busy purging his body of everything he ate that day. However, Madix liked the feeling of Dakota’s heavy hand on his back. He focused on that feeling rather than his belly that was in turmoil.

The room was swaying, and his head was fuzzy. He burped a few times before beginning the next round of vomiting. He made a strange strangled sound in his throat as his stomach sent up another mouthful of puke. A sob escaped in between gags.

“Oh Madix,” Dakota cooed. He was still rubbing his back. “I’ve got you, everything’s fine.”

With his head still hovering over the toilet bowl, Madix caught his breath and spat a glob of saliva. “I feel awful, Kota.” His voice came out sounding thick and strained.

“I’m sorry.” Dakota felt stupid saying that, as if an apology would make it all better. “It’s just a bug though, you’ll get through this.”

Madix groaned and rested his head on his arms that were crossed over the toilet. “How’s Riley?”

“I’m fine.”

Both boys looked towards the door where the new voice came from. Riley was leaning against the doorframe, looking like he was using the wall as a shield. He took a step into the bathroom. “Who cares about me, though. How are you doing, babe?”

“Not great, Ry,” Madix said before burping into his hand. It was the first honest thing he said to Riley for a while now. Seeing his boyfriend’s face, Madix suddenly felt smaller and cold. He reached his hand out towards Riley, craving a bit of contact. To his surprise, Riley joined Madix on the floor, replacing Dakota.

Riley grabbed Madix’s hand and pulled it to his chest. “I’m gonna look after you.”

That little bit of comfort made Madix melt. He instantly let out a small whimper of pain and allowed Riley to take him into a hug. With his face smothered into his boyfriend’s chest, he let the tension out of his back. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Riley said while petting Madix’s damp hair. “Now, let’s get you out of this shirt, you’re drenched in sweat.”

Madix pulled away from the hug. “I’m going to be sick again.”

Judging by Madix’s relatively calm state, Riley guessed he meant later in the night. Nonetheless, he would stay by him when it happened. “That’s fine. Let’s at least move you to a bed and get you in clean clothes.”

Again, it was as if a weight was lifted from Madix’s shoulders. “You’re the best.”

“I’m trying”

Madix resisted the urge to kiss Riley. He settled for a smile. “I know that.”

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Ok so Dakota and Blair go to the movie theater and Dakota gets two hotdogs, and the hotdogs are actually perfectly fine but he just so happens to have the stomach flu and that’s the first and last thing he ate before getting violently sick all over the seats in front of them (you can decide if there’s people in them or not)

Thanks Milo for the prompt…after I low-key begged you for a request ;)

As soon as Dakota finished work, he drove straight to Blair’s office to pick her up. It was movie night and the early viewing was the only time that worked with both their schedules while also not being in 3D. Dakota didn’t mind that it was just after five, even if it wasn’t prime movie time, because he had to be up early the next day anyway. He was however not thrilled about having popcorn for dinner.

It had been one of those days when Dakota didn’t get any break between clients or emails or questions to actually eat the lunch that he packed for himself. Oddly enough, he couldn’t decide if he was hungry. Normally, going eight hours without food would leave Dakota ravenous, but tonight he found the hunger manageable. Perhaps only one bag of popcorn would be enough instead of three. That was a joke of course, but Blair didn’t laugh. She simply looked sideways at her boyfriend.

Once at the theater, Dakota changed his mind. Given that it was dinner time, he decided that movie theater hotdogs would be more appropriate than popcorn. So, with both sausages in hand, he and Blair, carefully balancing their food, found a spot near the back of the theater.

“You know one good thing about the hour,” Blair began, settling into a chair, “is that we get to pick whichever seat we want.”

Dakota smiled and set the hotdogs on his lap. “I’m glad we got to do this. I know I’ve been crazy busy this week.”

“Yeah, I’m worried you’re gonna burn yourself out with all your new clients,” Blair said, looking at the screen rather than Dakota. She was focused on a preview for an upcoming horror film.

“I’m exhausted, but it’s been good,” he replied before taking a huge bite of the hotdog. Sadly, it looked like he would finish it in three bites. A bit of onions and mustard marked the side of his mouth which he quickly wiped away before it could fall on his shirt.

“Good, then it’s been worth it waking up to an empty bed for the past few days.”

With a lump of food in his cheek, Dakota looked sideways at Blair with sad eyes. “’m shrory.”

Thankfully Blair was fluent in the language of stuffed-mouth. “Don’t apologize. I just hate how you come home looking like a zombie. I’m afraid you’re gonna fall asleep halfway through this film.”

Dakota shook his head energetically because that’s all he could do with half a hotdog in his mouth. By the time the movie actually started, he was already devouring the second one. It wasn’t the greatest, but Dakota didn’t have high expectations for a movie theater. Honestly, he just needed something to say he had eaten today.

Their conversation ended once the lights went down. The theater was fairly full by this point, but luckily Dakota didn’t have anyone’s head blocking his view. The movie was quiet in the beginning, making Dakota self-conscious about burping. But he couldn’t help it. He had inhaled those two hotdogs and now his stomach was trying to digest them. It left a strong aftertaste in his mouth that was less than pleasant but a few sips from his coke helped that. Unfortunately, the fizzy drink only filled his stomach with more air.  

After a particularly deep belch, Dakota exhaled while slowly deflating his cheeks. It wasn’t a relieving burp and instead felt like it stirred everything up in his belly. Dakota was quickly getting hot, both from the proximity of other people and the churning sensation in his gut. It was uncomfortable and distracting from the movie. He stretched his legs out as far as he could and rested his hands over his bloated stomach.

Blair leaned over and grabbed his knee. “You okay?”

He squinted and assessed his state. He didn’t feel entirely okay, especially from the way his belly was gurgling. It seemed to be having a hard time with the greasy food. “My stomach hurts. I think I ate too fast.”

Blair reached down and grabbed a water bottle from her bag. After she handed it off to Dakota, she put her palm flat against his stomach and felt the organ ripple. “Oh babe, are you sure you’re okay?” She leaned forward to get a better look at his face.

“Yeah, it’ll pass,” he whispered and moved her hand off his body. He was too hot and sticky to want anyone to touch him in this moment. He really just wanted to step outside in the cool air, but there were too many people in his aisle, and he didn’t want to be a bother.

So, Dakota tried to relax while his stomach continued to make angry sounds. He suffered through half the movie until the nausea finally hit. Suddenly the aftertaste from his meal had return in full force and it was as if his mouth were filled with thick grease. He could feel sweat dripping down his back. He shivered, feeling like his insides were trying to crawl their way out.

At the peak of his nausea, the burping started again, this time feeling much more threatening. The first few belches were short and empty, but they quickly became wet. Whenever Dakota felt the air bubbling up, he shoved his fist against his lips to keep from burping, in fear that it would bring up more than just gas. Completely abandoning the movie, Dakota leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees and hugged his middle.

It wasn’t long before he felt Blair touch his back. “Kota,” she whispered, “is it that bad?” And her fingers met the damp fabric that ran along Dakota’s spine. Dragging her hand up his shirt, Blair eventually touched his neck gently and found it burning. “Kota, I think –”

Dakota hissed through his teeth before gagging into his hand. “Fuck I’m gonna –” he gagged again and dipped his head even further between his legs. His stomach was in turmoil, but he couldn’t move.

Ignoring the not so subtle stares from the people next to them, Blair helped Dakota into an upright position. By the light of the big screen, she could see that his face was drenched and pale. She was almost able to get him out of the chair, but Dakota suddenly pitched forward and a massive wave of vomit covered the seat in front of him.

“Fuck –” he repeated only to have it cut off by another gush of thick sick. He held onto the, thankfully empty chair in front of him, and belched up the only thing his stomach had to give. The mustard burned his throat.

In between retches, Blair grabbed Dakota by his arms and pushed him past the people in the aisle. She muttered apologies all the while Dakota heaved into his hands. She immediately led him to the nearest bathroom, not caring that it was the men’s washroom, and followed him into the stall.

Dakota fell to his knees. “Oh God, Bl–” the rest of her name came out sounding like Dakota was heaving up his intestines.

“Shh, shh, don’t try to talk. Just get it all up,” she cooed while firmly rubbing his back. She winced from the sounds and the way his back shuttered with each heave.

He burped up a few more strands of sick until he was left dry heaving over the toilet. Breathing heavily, Dakota fell back against the wall and closed his eyes. “That was terrible.”

Blair flushed the toilet and grabbed a wad of toilet paper to wipe off Dakota’s face. He kept his eyes closed and breathed through his mouth. She traced around his nose to get the sweat and dabbed away the saliva on his chin. “Looked pretty terrible.” As she wiped his glistening forehead, she let her fingers trail over the skin to confirm what she already knew. “Did you know you have a fever?”

Dakota opened his eyes and cocked an eyebrow. “What? I thought it was the hotdogs…”

“No, you’re burning up,” Blair insisted. “I think you caught a stomach bug.”

Dakota groaned and knocked his head back. “Great.”

“Wasn’t your stomach upset before now?”  

“Not really. I haven’t eaten anything all day.”

Blair nodded knowingly. “That explains it.”

“You know what this means right?”

She tilted her head to the side. “What? That there’s no way I’m gonna dodge this flu?”

“Probably…and,” Dakota said, looking absolutely heartbroken and terrified, “I have to let you drive my car.”

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My husband had the stomach flu so bad he had to go to the ER for fluids Wednesday night… Thank goodness he says he’s feeling better! Too bad I caught it… Small miracle that it waited until he was feeling better!

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I want someone to have the stomach flu and have wet acidic burps and we are kissing and their stomach is churning and they are burping into my mouth and maybe they hiccup and their chest heaves and the burps start out airy but get heavier and wetter as we go on and they are miserable and they groan and whine as we make out

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God I hate flu season

Like the normal flu? Fine

No I’m talking stomach flu, it just hurts everyone you’ve ever been close to, claiming loved ones lives left and right, slowly making it’s way too you as you count down your impending Doom.

Last week it was my brother. The week before that my older brother’s kids. This week my sister to whom I shar a bedroom with.

Like fuck, if you out to come get me don’t wait, call now! I can’t afford this shit, I start classes back up Tuesday so let’s get this shit done and over with!! 👏👏

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