#stomach flu

[bellysoupset]

Vince sick with the flu at Wendy's birthday

Vince knew he was bound to catch the bug after being so terribly exposed, he had just been counting on the fact he had gotten the stomach flu back in the end of January and hoping this meant he was immune.

No such luck.

Not only he had definitely caught the bug, judging by how upset and gurgly his belly felt, but he had caught it on Wendy's birthday. He wanted to cry.

"Are you alright?" His father asked, looking up from the dishes he was doing when Vince groaned, tugging at the roots of his hair.

"I think I caught the stomach bug that's going around the school," he answered and Giuseppe frowned, drying his hands on the dishcloth and walking closer.

His palm was cold against Vince's forehead, all soft thanks to age, "you're a little warm, piccolino," he hadn't called Vin that since his son had outgrown him.

"That's just great," Vince sighed, leaning slightly on his dad's touch. He wanted nothing more than to go upstairs and crawl up into his childhood bed, let his family fuss over him, but instead he had to hit the road. There was no way he was going to miss Wen's birthday.

They had already talked the night before, video called at midnight so he could wish her happy birthday, and texted in the morning, Wendy sending excited updates about everything.

Her parents had sent her a huge breakfast basket with flowers and she had gotten a bunch of chocolate from patients, which Wendy was over the moon about as it was her first time getting gits from patients.

She was going to have lunch with Bella, Jonah, Barbie and Megan and then the party was going to be at night, at a rooftop and Vince knew for a fact that Jon had gotten fireworks for her as a surprise.

"I have to get going," Vin forced himself to pull back and stand up. As soon as he stood up, he felt all sorts of woozy, so Vin grabbed the wall behind him and breathed through his mouth until the slight vertigo faded away.

Giuseppe's silver eyebrows were up, blue eyes scanning him, "you're planning on driving like this? No, you're not."

"Babbo, I can't not go," Vince sighed, "I'm gonna drive slow, I promise. And text you as soon as I get there."

His father didn't look one bit pleased, "at least take some medicine before you go..." he mumbled, looking nervous about the prospect.

Although the old man looked fearful, he did let Vin go, without telling Ma about the fact he was sick, something Vince was very grateful for. There was no way his mother was going to be this cool about him getting in the motorcycle when feeling that woozy.

By the time Vince entered the big city, he was freezing. It was only partially due to the fever, it was the last day of February, so it wasn't exactly warm to begin with.

He had the key to Wen's apartment and she, thankfully, still wasn't home, so Vince headed straight to the bathroom. His reflection was a sight, his skin had gone from its usual light olive tone straight into green territory, all pale and with dark circles around his eyes. His lips were devoid of color and his hair had flattened down around his head, clinging to his clammy skin.

"Looking handsome," Vince grumbled, planting his hands on the sink and taking a steadying breath as his stomach gurgled uncomfortably. The nausea was taking its sweet pace building and currently he was covered in goosebumps, his mouth feeling sticky and sweet.

Vin stumbled into the shower area and turned up the hot water, hoping to wash away the look of sickness. He had very little energy, so he just stood under the stream, letting the water do most of the work.

He washed his hair and then gagged when the scent of conditioner hit his nose, making him rush to wash it off. It was to no avail, and Vince leaned over the drain, retching softly until a thin stream of watery puke came up.

It brought no relief whatsoever, but his stomach's muscles relaxed, leaving him still just as nauseated and unable to barf. Vince groaned, washing away the evidence and his face all over again.

Once he stepped out of the bathroom, with Wen's large lilac towel wrapped around his waist, Vince opened a smile as he saw Wen had left an outfit picked out on top of the bed.

He put on the boxers and the social pants and was sitting on the edge of the bed, struggling to tie his social shoes since the position squeezed his tummy, when Wendy opened the bedroom door.

"Oh hi..." she sounded all breathless and Vince didn't have to force a smile. His girlfriend stood at the doorway of her bedroom, with her hair in rollers and a pink robe.

"Hi birthday girl," Vince grinned, "c'mere-" he got up to kiss her and Wendy's whole face turned pink as she promptly wrapped her arms around his neck, getting on her tippy toes.

They stumbled back inside the bedroom and Vince bit down a groan as he felt Wendy climb his lap, still kissing him fiercely. He moved his face, planting a kiss on her neck and squeezing her on a hug.

"I missed you," Vince whispered, planting a kiss on her shoulder, pushing her robe out of the way, "I missed you so much."

Wendy let out a pleased sigh, pulling back and running her fingers through his humid hair, "I missed you too," she pressed her forehead to his, "I almost wish we could just stay in bed."

Vince snorted at that, patting her ass so she'd get off his lap, "no, you don't, you'd never miss your own party."

She blushed as he read her so easily, then climbed off of him, "I'm just gonna take a quick shower, can't get the hair wet. Are you almost done?"

Almost, he just really needed to throw up first, Vince thought, but kept his happy smile on.

"Yeah, pretty much. Take your time, though," he kissed her temple and swatted her ass, "I'm gonna go get your gift."

"My gift?" Wendy's voice went up at least two notes as she smiled and Vince rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, your gift," he steered her to the bathroom, "c'mon, you don't wanna be late."

He had left Wendy's gift in his backpack and Vince went to the living room to retrieve it, while buttoning up his shirt. She had picked a deep red button up, her favorite color on him.

Vince sat on the couch as he heard the shower running, allowing his mask to slip and wrapping an arm around his stomach. Even though he had left his belt quite lose and not yet tucked in the shirt, he already felt like he was being squeezed by it all.

His intestines were gurgling something fierce and when Vin pressed on his warm, sensitive belly, he felt a burp sneak up his throat. Airy and with no sound, but turning wet at the end. Vin snapped his mouth shut, swallowing back the urge to gag.

He felt another shudder run up his spine and Vince pressed his eyes closed, valiantly fighting a cramp- Then he heard the bathroom door open and immediately pulled himself together, pushing everything out of his mind and getting up.

Wendy was already in her shapewear, pulling out a deep magenta dress from her closet. She had removed her hair from the rollers and they fell around her heart shaped face like old Hollywood waves.

"You look great," Vince smiled, leaning against the bedroom's doorway, "you look gorgeous."

Wendy opened a big smile, then she caught a glimpse of the simple black box in his hands and raised her eyebrows, "what is it?"

"Turn around," Vince stepped closer, holding the large square box. He was quite nervous about it, actually. It hadn't been cheap, but it was nowhere near what a girl like her was used to. He knew Wendy was the Harry Winston and Cartier sort, so he was really nervous about buying her jewelry.

Vince put the necklace around her neck and planted a kiss on top of her head as she looked at her reflection in the closet mirror, "what do you think?"

It was a simple white gold necklace, with a flower pendant made of four rubies and the center a topaz.

Wendy didn't say a thing, leaning in to inspect it and Vince cringed, feeling a whole new layer of nausea wash over him.

"I know it's no Tiffany's or whatever, but-"

"I love it," she interrupted him, glaring at him in the mirror, "it's stunning."

Vince's cheeks burned and he fidgeted uncomfortably, as Wendy smoothed the necklace against her collarbones and opened a pleased smile.

"I really love it, Vin," she turned around to hug him by the waist and tilted her head back, opening a blinding smile, "thank you."

"You're not just saying that? Because its from a local jewelry shop, so you can definitely exchang-"

"I love it," she shook her head, squeezing him, "and it matches my dress."

Vince let out a scoff, biting down a burp as Wendy's head pressed to his upset stomach. He gulped down, keeping a hand in the middle of her naked back and breathing through the queasiness.

There was no way he was going to make it through the night without puking, Vin thought, as Wendy moved in his arms and planted a kiss to his tummy, pulling back.

"I'm just gonna do my make up and we can go," she said happily, putting on her heels and Vince forced a smile.

"Alright, I'm gonna wait in the living room."

The party was in the same rooftop Vince remembered being for Jonah's birthday, when Wendy had gotten sick due to a migraine. It was ironic she had picked it, given how horrible he was feeling.

Vince was practically wincing as Wendy intertwined their fingers together and pulled him as she checked with the staff everything was alright.

He was bouncing a leg nervously up and down and Wen let out a chuckle as she noticed that, "it's just our friends," she misinterpreted his nervousness, grabbing a champagne flute and pushing it in his hands, "you have nothing to be nervous about."

Vince offered her a strained smile, but that wasn't exactly true. Wendy was a social butterfly and he knew for a fact it was not a party just for Jonah, Luke, Bell and Leo. Half the hospital would be there, as well as all the girls she knew from yoga and from other courses. Barbie, Megan, whom Vince had met before, but they still made him nervous. Other people he had no idea how Wendy got acquainted with.

He wanted to die as the place started to fill up and his head continued to swim. Vince couldn't pay attention to anything that was being said, but thankfully his participation in small talk was all but optional.

He was feeling clammy all over as the little canapes started to circulate on top of trays.

Wendy squeezed his arm, "are you hungry?" she tilted her head to look at him and Vin promptly shook his head, almost stumbling back as it made the room spin.

Just the mere thought of putting anything in his stomach made more sickness splash up and he gulped down, "No-" his voice came out all hoarse and Vince cleared his throat, "no, I'm just warm. I'm gonna go outside for some air, okay?"

Wendy pouted slightly, "are you alright...?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Vince squeezed her hand in his, "talk with your friends, I'm just gonna get some air and I'll be back," he promised and she opened a bright smile, turning around and squealing as she caught sight of Jonah entering the room.

Vince turned around and bolted.

It was not lost on him that once upon a time he had found Wendy hunched over the same rail. He pressed his tummy to the iron rail and forced up a sick burp, but nothing came up with it.

Vince groaned, squeezing the metal and feeling like he was about to collapse. His legs were shaking and he couldn't stop swallowing down, his mouth pooling with saliva.

Another burp snuck up on him and Vin whimpered, feeling his eyes sting. He hated this, he wanted to be having fun with Wendy, not almost ruining her party.

A hand came to rest on his back and Vince shuddered, knowing who it was without even looking back, "fucking kill me, Luke."

"What's wrong?" Luke's voice was impossibly soft and Vince tipped to the side, leaning against his best friend's chest. He was freezing, he wanted all warmth he could get.

"Stomach flu..." Vince groaned as his stomach flipped again, "gonna be sick..."

"Okay, think you can make it inside? To the bathroom?" Luke squeezed his nape, rolling his thumb in a comforting manner. Vin took in a deep breath.

"Don't-" he gulped down as a gag interrupted him, "don't want Wendy to see me-"

"Buddy, the chances of her seeing you here are way higher," Luke squeezed him a little tighter, "lean on me, okay? We're gonna speed walk."

"M'kay," Vince slumped almost completely and heard Lucas let out a little huff at his weight, but he didn't let go. He was so dizzy, he didn't actually see a thing as they moved back inside the restaurant area, only heard the noise escalate and then get low once more, as Luke pushed him inside the bathroom.

Vince stumbled, bracing against the sink and Lucas let out a sigh, "c'mere," he wrapped an arm around Vin's chest, steering him towards the toilet and Vince immediately fell to his knees, leaning over the bowl and panting.

His stomach hurt with how much it was churning and finally he let out a weak gag and felt everything he had eaten since morning rush up his throat.

Vince groaned as the sheer amount seemed to suffocate him, coughing and groaning as it stung his nose. He spat in the bowl, blindly reaching to flush it, but his arms were too shaky and that almost caused his chin to hit the porcelain, wasn't it for Luke wrapping an arm around his chest.

"I got you, I got you," Lucas reassured him, before flushing the toilet, "done?"

"Nu-uh," Vince gagged, spitting once again. He had never felt so nauseous in his life, what the hell was this bug?

"Jesus, dude..." Luke groaned when Vince let out another gurgly burp, which quickly morphed into a violent heave and even more puke rushed up and splattered in the bowl.

Lucas moved so he was crouching practically next to him, planting a hand on Vince's forehead and keeping him from taking a dive in the toilet as the heaves continued to rock him. He cringed as he could feel the crazy heat under his palm, it was shocking Vince had been able to play off as healthy for so long with a fever like this.

"Okay, okay, big breath," Luke rubbed his back as Vin let out a whimper and swayed on the spot, bracing against the stall wall and causing the entire thich plastic structure that separated the cubicles to tremble.

"Fuck," Vince breathed out, squeezing his eyes and massaging his chest. His hands were trembling and tears had run down his cheek, he also looked terribly pale, "this isn't a stomach bug, it's some plague."

"It looks like it, yeah," Lucas flushed the toilet again, grabbing a bunch of toilet paper and passing it to Vince, "you good?"

"For now..." Vince wiped his mouth, blowing his nose, "but my stomach is still churning and I feel like I'm gonna shit my pants."

Luke wrinkled his nose in distaste, getting up from the floor, "you need to go home-"

"I can't go to Wendy's, it's her birthday," Vince whined, "I'm not gonna ruin her night-"

"No, you're coming to my place," Luke rolled his eyes, "can you just sit there and not die? I'm gonna let Bell know-"

"Oh god, Bella-" Vince groaned, curling up as much as he could in the small space and Lucas let out a sigh.

"Just don't die, alright? I'll see if she can go home with Wen and you come with me- Don't die," then he turned around and ran out of the bathroom.

Vince sighed, leaning his head back against the hard plastic and trying to find any strength to get up and wash his face. He hated himself for going anywhere close Daniels last week.

There was a gurgle through his stomach and Vince squeezed his belly, breaking in cold sweat. He let out a sickly little burp, getting on all fours and struggling force himself up, swaying so much he nearly smashed his head against the stall wall.

Vince fell down on the toilet, tugging on his social pants and clumsily reaching for the door and locking it, before managing to push down his pants just in time for the runs to hit him.

He wrapped both arms around his tummy, pressing his eyes closed and sniffling pitifully. The cramps were killing him and to make matters worse he was starting to feel nauseous all over again, the curled up position forcing up sickly little burps.

Vince gulped down, breathing slowly through his mouth as the woozy sensation only seemed to get worse. Then there was a knock on the door and his head snapped up, colorful little spots dancing on the corner of his sight.

"Occupied!"

"Vin, it's me," Luke said and he could've cried. In fact, judging by the way his throat was hurting and he could feel his eyes burning, he was pretty sure he was.

"Gimme- Give me a minute..." he groaned, "just wait."

"Okay, yeah, no problem," Lucas said hurriedly and Vince assumed he probably could hear the pleading in his voice, since he didn't fight him.

Vince wiped the cold sweat from his brow once again, taking slow measured breaths as he cleaned up and then got out of the stall, stumbling to the sink in order to wash his hands and his face.

He looked dreadful. Vince made a little pray that Wendy was across the rooftop and didn't get a glimpse at him, because he looked pretty close to a corpse.

He dried the cold water from his face, before all but collapsing against the bathroom's main door, pressing his forehead to it, "Luke."

"Yeah?" Lucas' voice was very clear, as if he was glued to the door and Vince thanked his stars for that.

"I think I'm gonna faint..." his lips felt numb, this wasn't good. The second the weak words made out of his mouth, the door opened. Just in time, because Vince's knees buckled and Luca caught him by the armpits, letting out a grunt as he almost went down with Vin.

"Christ, Vin-" Luke's hand pushed his hair back, patting his cheek, "hey man, I need you to help me here or I'm gonna drag your ass to the hospital."

Vince shook his head, angrily forcing his eyes open and trying to think through the fog, "Wendy-"

He jumped as there was a loud noise, followed by squeals, just outside the private hallway that led to the bathrooms. Luke stiffened his hold around him, only to let out a nervous chuckle.

"It's Jon's fireworks. We should go."

"Uhmm," Vince nodded, grabbing on Luke's arm, "I'm gonna hurl on you."

"I know," Lucas forced him up, voice all strained, "but outside of here, deal?"

"Deal," Vince almost chuckled, pressing his feverish forehead to Luke's shoulder and allowing him to rush them out of the fancy restaurant.

#sidenote: i know vince is sicilian but giuseppe isn't so his children use babbo even tho that's a northern italian thing not sicilian #ended up posting it all in one thing bc i'm lazy #mywriting #vince monacelli #stomach flu #sickfic #emeto #emetophilia #maybe i'll do a part 2 even tho this is huge already #idc i'm having too much fun lol

[allergyu]

Yeonjun sick

#txt #yeonjun #cold #stomach flu

[sickficideas]

Do you have any sick headcanons on kunikida and dazai together, either both sick or one or the other. But one of them or both of them taking care of each other?

It’s one of my favorite ships

- 💿

always always!!

sick Kunikida:

- Dazai loooooves taking care of Kunikida. his favorite past time is sitting on the couch with Kunikida curled up next to him or with his head in his lap so he can play with his hair. Kunikida doesn't feel good at all, shivering and nauseous but it's such a comforting touch

- he's always using the "my poor Kunikida" and Kunikida always retaliated with a groan and "I'm not your Kunikida" but he secretly likes it hehe

- Kunikida has tummyaches all the time and Dazai is always the first to offer tummy rubs, which Kunikida always declines at work but absolutely needs when it's just the two of them because they do help💔💔

sick Dazai:

- Dazai has gotten better about admitting when he doesn't feel well, so some days where he skips work and pretends he's just being lazy end in Kunikida coming home to find Dazai feverish and curled up in his bed. it scares the crap out of Kunikida but he gets to work with making sure he's comfortable and hydrated and feeling better asap 💔

- Dazai gets into phases where he's at work for days on end/doesn't leave the office even to sleep, bad habits he learned during his time in the Mafia, so when Kunikida starts to notice him tripping over his words and the dark circles under his eyes, he forces him over to the office couch to rest. he checks on him every half hour at least

- depending on how sick Dazai is, Kunikida sometimes has a hard time getting through to him. If Dazai's illness causes delusions or nightmares he holes up in his room and locks his door, but Kunikida has seen Dazai's key plenty of times and he will break in and take care of him even when Dazai has gone quiet 💔

both of them are sick:

- whenever Kunikida gets to a certain point, he's useless when he's sick. his vision gets all hazy and he's confused and shivering, so when he and Dazai are sick at the same time it's Dazai doing most of the caretaking 💔 Dazai laying a cold washcloth over Kunikida's hot forehead and taking it every now and then for himself. at some point he's like maybe i should just get one for me too

- they've gotten stomach flus at the same time before and Dazai always needs help throwing up when it gets bad (the hand down the throat method always works best for him) but if Kunikida is also sick his stomach is even more sensitive than usual and he might end up puking if he helps Dazai lol. the occasional sympathy puker

- both of them cuddling together under Kunikida's covers...Atsushi checking up on them and they're both fast asleep, Dazai curled into Kunikida's side like a cat 💔

#anon: 💿! #i hope these are okay!! if you wanted anything more specific just let me know hehe #i love these two #bsd headcanons #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd #kunikidazai #kunizai #dazai #kunikida #illness #sick #vomiting #emeto #fever #caretaking #sicknario #stomachache #stomach flu #caretaker #ask box

[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

[boysbellyrubs]

Can we get Alistair with the stomach flu 🙏🙏

thanks for the ask, another anon also asked for this so here you go :)

—-

Alistair was used to getting stomach aches; he often ate food that he knew would upset his stomach, ate too much, or just was chosen that day to suffer with a tummy ache. He was very brave about it, okay! However, bravery was lost for this stomach ache. Along with an achy belly, he was feeling lightheaded, sweaty, nauseous and couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. There was no doubt about the fact that he was definitely sick.

He was unsure where he would have picked up a stomach bug. It could have been from stress, as right now his drama class were preparing for their annual production and he was one of the lead roles. The line learning stage had passed, but they were still touching up some of the blocking on some scenes, which meant he was focusing very hard to quickly write everything down before the director moved on. As he was writing, he could physically feel his pencil slipping in his grip; his sweaty hands making writing nearly impossible.

The others around him were already finished writing in their notes when he looked up, and were staring at him. He felt his insides curdle.

“Sorry, butter fingers today.” He joked. Most of the cast giggled a little, but the director was giving him a stern look. Alistair needed to pull himself together, he only had another hour to go. He could do this.

The scene played out more, and Alistair was now giving one of his monologues. He tried his best to not look down at his script, and project to the audience. Nikau was down there, watching him while he waited for his part. Alistair’s couldn’t help but move his eyes over to him, smiling and looking proud of his boyfriend.

“Alistair! Focus please, we need to see more emotion. It sounds like you’re reading from the script.” The director yelled, cutting off his words. He looked over to her, the room spinning. He stumbled a bit,

“Yep.” He quickly said, trying to keep his stomach in place. Standing up for so long was terrible for his head, his feet weren’t his own and he swore the stage lights were making little figure eight movements. Alistair looked down, desperately trying to compose himself. He wasn't about to have a ‘Pitch Perfect’ moment.

Thankfully, he got through his monologue without any more issues and he was allowed a break. He rushed off stage, one hand sitting gingerly on his belly and the other carding through his sweaty hair. Alistair felt like he was dying, the air around him was too warm and suffocating, the smell of old costumes and props filled his nostrils and he nearly gagged. Without even thinking, he went out the backstage door and into the carpark, breathing heavily through his nose.

The fresh air did wonders for his head, but now the smell of petrol and rubbish replaced the mothball stench and he doubled over with a hearty heave. Nothing came up. His chest seized and a cough sputtered out of his mouth. Alistair had to stabilise himself on the wall next to him, forehead meeting the cold concrete. Stomach now worked up, he felt his lunch bubble and churn inside him, desperate to be out.

He moaned, “Fuckk,” rubbing his stomach did little, he was going to throw up in this grotty car park like a drunk, “Where’s Nikau when I need him.”

Alistair was swallowing thickly and rapidly, holding back burps and gags like his life depended on it. The cool wall was doing little for his scorching fever and he forced himself to crouch down as the nausea ramped up to a 10. He whined, saliva gathering in his mouth. It hit him in an instant; a burp and then a loud gag and suddenly his lunch was splattered in front of him. When the first lot came out, it prompted everything else to and soon enough he was spitting up more vomit.

It burned his throat and chest, and his gags were throaty and knocked him off his feet. His knees hit the ground harshly, and he quickly caught himself with his hands, splashing into the puddle of vomit. He lost control and coughed up another round, disgusted with himself and the mess he was making. He wondered if any passersby were staring at him. Alistair groaned at his stomach churning, still nauseous and angry despite most of his lunch being in front of his face.

At least he had crouched down first before he got sick, with the way his head was spinning he didn’t think he would have been able to stand up properly. He was also thankful it was cloudy today; having the sun shining down on his overheating body would have tipped him over the edge.

Alistair spat a little before sitting back on his feet. His hands were splattered with sick, and he shook them a little before letting them sit palm up on his thighs. He was a pitiful sight. He swore he was swaying on the spot, ground sloshing around like the bile in his tummy. He thought about going back inside, but then made eye contact with his vomit soaked knees and thought maybe it was better to just stay out here. Perhaps he would die out here, covered in vomit. God what a sight that would be.

His stomach gurgled. It was still very upset and hurt like a bitch. Alistair threw his head back, closing his eyes as the cramp tore through his body. A lone raindrop landed on his forehead. Well, at least the rain could clean up his mess easily. More rain fell and soon Alistair was just sitting out in the rain, sick and tired. His classmates were probably wondering what he was doing. He didn’t really care. He just needed his bed, and maybe his boyfriend.

His boyfriend. Nikau was definitely wondering where he had gone. Alistair’s phone was in his back pocket, and with now semi clean hands he pulled it out. He flicked a text to Nikau and waited. The door flew open, hurting Alistair’s head. But then, he saw Nikau crouching down next to him, touching him all over and wiping away some of the hair stuck to his face.

“Oh my gosh, Star, have you been out here this whole time?” He looked at the remnants of vomit on the concrete, “Oh, jeez. I had a feeling. You didn’t look so good on stage.”

Alistair looked at him, giving a small smile, “Yeah. Feel awful,” His stomach chose that moment to gurgle and cramp again, and he winced. The rain was now starting to make him shiver, and he was pissed that his jeans were now wet, “Can you take me home?” Nikau nodded and muttered ‘yes’ before gently lifting Alistair up.

“You’ve got a bad fever, sweetheart. You’re like a heater.”

“Yeah.” He leaned into Nikau, using Nikau’s steps to make his own. He kept his eyes closed, needing the darkness to not throw up again. He heard the whispers of his classmates and tried his best to focus on Nikau’s hands.

He opened his eyes and recognised the carpet of the audience seating, and waited for Nikau to gather up all their stuff. The director came over to the two.

“Alistair? Where have you been?” She looked him up and down, noticing his saturated clothes.

Alistair shuffled his feet sheepishly, “I’m sorry, I’m not feeling very well Miss. I need to head home.” He said those words and she took a couple steps back, but spoke with a gentle tone.

“That’s okay. Email me if we need to call in your understudy.” Alistair saw a small smile on her face and then she was gone, shouting again at the rest of the cast. Nikau rubbed his arm with his knuckles,

“Ready to go?” Alistair nodded, turning to his boyfriend. Nikau guided him out of the door and to the car. It was bliss to sit down, and he leaned back in the seat. However, he wasn’t excited for the drive home.

“Try and drive careful?” He asked, already holding his belly. Nikau hummed in confirmation and set off.

As they were driving, Alistair could feel every little movement the car made and it translated to tidal waves in his brain. He was so dizzy. It was a mission to keep his head still, while also feeling like his stomach was going to explode out of him once again. Alistair’s hands were shaky and warm, fingers digging into his cramping stomach.

Because he had terrible luck, the underlying nausea turned into full blown nausea and he jolted in his seat. Suddenly, it felt like he was being thrown into lava and was seconds away from puking. He made a strangled noise in the back of his throat, hand tightly over his mouth. He heard Nikau curse, and then a bag was in his lap. Without questioning where he got it from, Alistair promptly puked into it. His back curled, his fingers held onto the bag like a lifeline.

The cars movement did nothing for him. No matter how hard he tried it felt like he was spinning, “Oh, Nikau, I’m-” he gagged, “everything is spinning.” He whined, unable to say anymore as he gagged again. Nikau had rolled the windows down, cool air washing over him. Alistair sat back as far as he could, holding the bag up to his mouth just in case. He needed stability.

“That’s it, Star. Just breathe. Relax, you’re sitting perfectly still.” Nikau’s words calmed him a little. He moaned as he felt the urge to gag again, and spat up a little more bile. He dropped one hand to his stomach, if he didn’t hold it he felt like it would slip out from inside him. The nausea slowly passed, and he was able to tighten off the top of the bag and hold it down by his feet.

“You good?” He was at a red light.

“Yeah, I think so.” Alistair murmured. His throat was scratchy and sore, his body was aching. He kept his eyes closed, and when that didn’t work he chose to look out the window. He kept his eyes locked on one spot in the horizon, and watched as the roads slowly got smaller and soon he was looking at their front door of their flat. Nikau’s hand was heavy on his knee.

“Come on, sickie. I know you’re feeling terrible.” Alistair whined at him. It was heavenly to finally get inside and lie down, with clean, comfy clothes and Alistair curled up on his side. The day’s events finally caught up to him and he felt his muscles slowly lose their tension. Nikau knelt down next to his face.

“I’m sorry to do this to you, but I wanna get some medicine in you. That fever is concerning,” He touched Alistair’s forehead, warm and sweaty. He tsked through his teeth, “You should’ve told me sooner you weren’t feeling good.”

Alistair murmured. Nikau was right, “Sorry. I thought I could get through rehearsal.” His head spun, a quick bout of vertigo forcing him to close his eyes.

“It’s okay. Are you dizzy?” Alistair nodded his head minutely, whining a little. He felt Nikau’s warm hands travel down his body and then he felt a kiss planted on his forehead.

Alistair felt Nikau’s presence disappear, and so he rolled onto his back gingerly, keeping his head still and placing a hand on his stomach. It was still hurting him, and was bloated and gross. The gurgles were sickly and he was probably going to be puking all night. Oh, he was so excited. Nikau returned, carrying the proper materials for a sick night. He gently forced Alistair to take some medicine, and then to make up for it, he lied down next to Alistair with the promise of rubbing his belly.

“I’m sorry you’re so sick, sweetheart.” Nikau whispered into Alistair’s hair.

“Mm, it sucks. But, you make me feel good.”

“Okay, I’m glad. Just rest, Star.”

#emeto #stomach ache #sickfic #emetophilia #vomiting #oc's #alistair #nikau #belly kink #belly rubs #stomach flu

[grossita]

Imagine someone getting sick on valentine's day....

Maybe they wake up with a stomach flu but power through and go on their date and end up puking in the restaurant (my mind goes to them puking on the table but it could be that they make it to the bathroom, you decide)

Or maybe instead of that situation, they end up getting food poisoning from the restaurant the date is at and tehy end up Sick all night

Or they could accidentally overindulge in chocolate and end up puking

#emeto tw #emeto #puke #emetophilia #vomit tw #stomach flu

[writing-whump]

I love your OCS! Can I request something where Matthew is sick, but it's not his shadow, is just some good ol' human tummy bug and he's all over the place not knowing what to do? With Seline as caretaker? - 🎃

Aww thank you for the request, nonnie! My first for the werwolf story, I'm so excited. Here you go.^^

Contains emeto and mentions of scat.

Stomach flu

Seline wasn’t sure how or when it happened that Matthew now accompanied her from classes back home, but somehow it had become routine before she even realized. Since the day he stumbled upon her and pretty much tore himself to pieces with his shadow to protect her from a random threat, he basically made it his mission to be around in the afternoon hours. How it fit his schedule, she had no idea. Somehow he was simply there - and she suspected he didn’t follow his classes nearly as reliably as he did hers.

So she didn’t wonder or say anything. She didn’t feel obligated to make herself especially available - it wasn’t as if she invited him over - but she didn’t protest his presence. But evenings suddenly became their evenings, with her sitting by the central dining table connected to the living room, working on her laptop and Matthew dozing on her couch or flipping through her Netflix account. When she was done studying or no inspiration came to her for new songs - self-made songs were the most effective for magic - she would sit a few meters away beside him and watch as well. 

Seline only realized how much of a routine it had become when something disturbed it. Like today.

Matthew was restless. He was shifting on the couch like he was sitting on a bee hive and he had that angry scowl on his face she associated with difficult days with his shadow. Except he was cautious with his shadow around her - they didn’t have an incident inside her apartment. As if her defensive magic woven into the floor now worked more in his favour, clearing his mind. Which was a good thing, natural thing, since witches usually provided comfort and calmness to their wolves. But they weren’t a pack and she wasn’t his witch or he her wolf - here they were just two students, bounded by a secret they never talked about. Somehow it mattered very little here and she liked it that way. 

Seline was biting her lip, looking up from her laptop occasionally. She wanted to ask him what was wrong but didn’t know how well he would take it. Maybe the best she could do was give his discomfort privacy, no matter what it was.

Suddenly Matthew stood up, expression drawn and uncomfortable, hand on his belly. Then he bolted to the bathroom. Seline watched him go, concerned.

She watched out for gagging noises, but none of that came. Maybe she was reading too much into this. Would he tell her if he was sick? Wolf and witch relationships aside, if her stomach bothered her, she would rather die of emberassment than admit it. It was an intimate, awkward thing, stomach issues, so she bet he would rather be left alone if something was wrong.

You can only offer what you would like yourself. She was aware she wouldn’t know what would help him. How can you spend evenings with a person each day and not know this?

The bathroom door opened abruptly, but the followed steps were shuffling and slow. Matthew dragged himself on the hallway to lean against the wall across from her. Her gaze flickered to him, trying to be inconspicuous. 

Matthew was sweating buckets, dark red hair plastered to his face. He was usually pale, but now he was glistening, freckles standing out on his cheeks and nose, his arms wrapped around his stomach. He was swaying, bending forward a little.

“Seline.”

She turned towards him immediately. “Matt? Hey, what’s wrong?”

He gulped and ran a hand over his face. “Ugh. I-I don’t know? It’s just-” he looked away, flushing, “my stomach really fucking hurts.” 

“Did you throw up?” she asked, eyebrows drawing together. 

“No. But it feels like my guts fucking exploded,” he threw a sheepish look toward the bathroom. Seline noted he closed the door behind himself, which he usually wouldn’t bother with. “...and it didn’t help at all.”

“Oh.” Seline nodded, trying to figure out a sensitive, emphatic way to talk about this without embarrassing him or getting squicked out herself. “You know what? I have these herbal drops that help with indigestion? They are a miracle thing, I swear.” 

She brushed past him towards the kitchen for her yellow bottled drops. Learned to use the herbal things from her mother and knew a really good doctor who made herbal drops from his own garden. Her whole family used it for years for all kinds of issues. It was always her go-to before any hard-on medication.

Counting 30 drops for herself and adding 20 more for Matthew’s weight into a bit of water, she swiftly returned with the glass.

Matthew slid down the wall on the floor, pulling his knees towards himself and hugged them close, face hidden in the crook of his arm.

Seline crouched down beside him, her heart swelling up at the sight. “Come on. Drink this. Maybe it will spare you from throwing up.” 

He eyed her with glossy eyes. This close to him, the smell of sickness and sweat hit her senses, and she suppressed a grimace. Matthew took the glass of water and took a tentative sip. “Hmm. Is this a witchy concoction?”

“Just regular human medicine and traditional herbal knowledge,” she snorted at him. “If it worked for them a few hundred years ago, it will work for you now.” 

Matthew nodded and emptied the glass. She took it from him before he could drop it on the floor, hunching over himself. 

“You will feel better in a minute,” she promised, doubting words immediately. “Come on, up from the floor. Let’s lie you down on the couch.” She wrapped her hands around his arm, coaxing him to stand. He swayed unsteadily as he got up. Better get him sitting down now, or he might not get up on his own soon. 

The redhead sprawled on the couch, but then moaned at the movement and curled up on his side instead, shivering. Seline noted how he hugged his stomach protectively and pulled his hoodie up, nuzzling his face into the couch’s decorative pillow. “I just don’t get it. What’s wrong with me?”

She sat down across from him on the edge of the couch. “You have been handling your shadow pretty well lately, right? Keeping it down so consistently. Ever managed that before?”

Matthew took a shuddering breath, his bleary eyes focusing on her. He squinted against the light of the living room lamp over him. “No?”

“Well, there you have it. Congratulations! You managed to keep your shadow down enough to catch a stomach flu. It’s been going around the campus, I hear.”

“Congratulations for sure,” Matthew grumbled, huddling further into himself, squeezing his eyes shut.

Seline didn’t really have a reason or good excuse to stay beside him, but she didn’t feel like leaving at all. Shutting off the light, she brought her laptop to her lap, sitting cross-legged beside Matthew. This way, she could keep an eye on him all the time. 

The noises his stomach was making didn’t get any better, though. If anything, they grew worse with each passing minute, gurgling and whining. Matthew wasn’t asleep either, hiding his face in the pillows and rubbing his stomach angrily. 

A burp sneaked past his lips. Matt’s eyes flew open and he coughed a small “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay. Do whatever you need to,” she said. She couldn’t focus on her work at all, watching all the telltale signs of oncoming sickness. 

Closing her laptop resolutely, she threw it on the nearby table and fetched a trashcan. Better be safe than sorry.

Matthew looked horrified at the trashcan, sitting upright to lean against the backrest. He scowled at her and then burped instead whatever he wanted to say, pushing a hand over his mouth. 

“I’m-m not gonna throw up,” he declared, a fighting glint in his eyes. He was radiating heat. She could feel it even standing up. She cracked the window open and then sat beside him, pushing the trashcan nearer with her foot. 

He glared at her and then belched. A shiver ran through him and he swallowed hard. His breaths came in short, panting huffs.

Then he pitched forward with a painful-sounding retch. Seline quickly grabbed the trashcan and brought it close, just in time for him to hunch over it. Another retch wracked his body and he lurched violently over the trashcan. Nothing came up. Only a few drops of saliva hang from his lips.

“Mattie. You are doing fine. Psshh. Just let it happen.” She pulled his hoodie down and dared to put a hand on his back, rubbing gently.

The movement coaxed up another burp. Matthew panted over the trashcan, eyes opening and shutting hard. He grimaced and spat into the bag, looking offended and angry to boot. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Seriously, you don’t-”

“For real,” he interrupted, looking at her from the side. “I didn’t mean to come to your place to hurl. I never mean it and it somehow always happens and I’m really sorry. I can leave if you-”

“Oh, shut it,” she said with a small grin. “It’s okay. I’m not letting you leave like this. So stay put and get better.”

He smiled slightly in return, then grimaced. “Seline?”

“Yes?”

“I hate this.” 

She laughed softly at that and leaned closer. Matthew took the trashcan from her hands and buried his head inside it. Putting both her hands on his back, she felt his whole spine shake with the next lurch that finally brought chunky liquid out. She winced as it splashed against the plastic.

A slight pause came. Matthew lifted his head hesitantly. His nose was running and there was vomit hanging from his lips and chin. 

Seline patted his arm. “Be right back.” She hurried to get a paper roll from the kitchen before sliding behind Matthew. He had his feet planted on the floor, trashcan between his knees, head hanging low over it, looking helpless and lost. But he sighed at her touch.

She offered him one of the papers, but his grip on the trashcan didn’t loosen one bit. She gave up and wiped his chin herself, catching all the droplets and throwing the crumpled sheet into the trash. “There you go. You are alright.” 

Matthew stayed silent, blinking hazily. Then his back arched and he was heaving again. She raised herself on her knees with his back in between and rubbed at the sweaty pullover. 

When he pitched forward with a loud throaty gurgle, she sneaked a hand under his hoodie, over his stomach. Seline wasn’t sure what was allowed or not, but he didn’t protest her administrations, so she went with the feeling. His middle was bloated and tense under her hand, puffed out despite all the emptying his body been doing from both ends. 

Matthew moaned against her and she could feel his stomach muscles clenching against her hand. She kneaded against the gurgly organ, which ushered a burp out and a handful of milky sickness. At least it was more watery now, coming easier.

Matthew gagged and heaved, a torrent of liquid rushing out. He was left coughing and catching his breath for a few more minutes, even when he came up empty. Then he let go of the trashcan and tipped back, unknowingly leaning against her chest. She squicked quietly and laughed. “Okay, okay, easy, big guy.”

Seline slid from behind him and helped him ease against the couch until he was lying down, propped up on two pillows. When she stood up to get rid of the stinking bag, she felt a tug on her sleeve.

“Where-...are you…?” Matthew blinked sleepily, dazed and confused. It wasn’t fair. Why did she suddenly feel so protective of him? His dark brown eyes looked like big chocolate cookies, lost in his ashen face. 

Taking mercy on him, she twisted the bag shut and pushed it aside, sitting down next to his head. “Shhh. I’m not going anywhere.”

They sat in silence as Matthew took deep breaths, his chest rising and falling irregularly before evening out. His eyes slid shut and he reached out a hand towards her. Seline could do nothing but take it, holding it over his shoulder. Effectively trapped beside him. 

Pretty sure he would never allow himself such a touch if he was fully coherent. But with the fever raging against him and with how dizzy and exhausted he was after the bounds of vomiting, she could see a completely different side to her gruff red-haired protector. Protector? She still thought his shadow was more of a hindrance to him, but he was getting better. This human weakness was proof.

She slipped her fingers over his forehead, pulling the sweaty strands from his face. Then she combed them through his hair.

Matt grumbled softly, sounding content.

#ask #sickfic #emeto #emetophilia #vomiting #whump #my writing #emeto writing #hurt/comfort #stomach flu #werwolf wip #hey it took only 4 days #I'm happy ^^ #finally writing a bunch #Matt

[bellysoupset]

Vince was not feeling well.

Which was saying something considering he hadn't been feeling well since November last year.

The talk with Wendy had helped, a lot, the knot that had permanently tied in his throat. Knowing they weren't over had him nearly dizzy with relief, even if he was very aware that it wouldn't be easy to have a relationship when they were 4 hours apart.

But there was more. There were his friends still... With whom he hadn't spoken. Well, everyone safe for Leo, who had texted him over Christmas break and hadn't stopped.

"I don't want you unhappy," had been Leo's simplistic answer when Vince met up with him that morning and asked why he was being so cool about the entire situation. Jonah hadn't spoken with him in a while and Vin wasn't sure if he was being ignored or if it was just Jon's regular sullen silences.

He was absolutely certain that Luke was ignoring him and that was more than partially to blame for the queasy sensation that spread all over his body.

"It seems like you're the only one," Vince scoffed, pushing the french fry around with viciousness and glaring at it. He couldn't fathom eating it, with how unsettled his stomach felt.

Leo let out a sigh, "that's not true, Vin." He was sitting back against Fredo's leather seats, finishing off his own burger, "Luke's a wreck, you two should really talk."

"Nothing to talk about," Vince grumbled, trying not to meet Leo's eyes and failing miserably when the blonde glared at him.

"Vince."

"He's just making everything worse," Vince groaned, wincing as his stomach cramped painfully, "it's hard enough leaving and it's hard enough that I'm gonna be four hours apart from my girlfriend and Luke- Luke's fucking everything up."

Leo raised his eyebrows, judgement rolling off of him and Vince ducked his head, muffling a burp against his fist. There was a burning in his chest that nothing could soothe.

"Vince."

"Stop looking at me like that."

"You say you wanna go, but I've never seen you look more miserable," Leo pointed out, his voice gentle, but firm, "look at me, Vin."

He did and immediately grimaced. There was nothing but support and concern in Leo's face, which Vince quickly found that he did not want. He much rather be yelled at, as he was sure Jonah or Bell would have.

"I'm okay."

"Bullshit," Leo sighed, rubbing his face, "don't lie to my face, okay? You're miserable."

Vince shrugged, "I will be okay... I got a job in Doverport."

Leo's eyebrows jumped up, "uhm... Congrats?" he said, unsure given the tone of the conversation, "what is it?"

"History teacher at the local public school," Vince picked at his nails, "I start in a week."

"That's great Vin! You've always wanted to teach..." Leo's voice trailed off and he let out a heavy sigh, "and you're not happy."

"What do you mean? Of course I a-"

"It wasn't a question," Leo twirled the coke in his cup with the metal straw, poking at the ice chips, "why are you moving if you don't want to?"

"I do want to," Vince sighed, giving up all pretense at trying to eat and his upbeat attitude, "I miss my parents, Leo. Which I know- Well, it's not something either of you guys is very familiar with, but I don't just love my family, okay? I like them. I genuinely enjoy spending time with them... And my parents are getting old and Sophia is leaving at the end of the year and I'll see her even less and Liv... I feel like I missed every single milestone? She's six, I- I came to college when I she had just learned to say my name..."

It was terrifying, to know he would be missing out on important memories with the ones he loved regardless of each town he picked.

"No, I get it," Leo nodded, then when Vin raised an eyebrow he rolled his eyes, "okay, fine, I don't get it. Not for a second, this is completely out of my reality... But I saw Jon with Angie this Christmas and how heartbroken he was over them not being closer. I saw Luke with his dad and how Kit doesn't even know him... And I know I spent my whole childhood wishing I had something like that," he shrugged, "so yeah, I don't get it, but I do."

Vince nodded, forcefully swallowing against the knot in his throat, "yeah..." he swallowed again, feeling clammy and ill, "it just sucks, because it feels like I'm letting everyone down and-"

"You're not," Leo reached over the table, grabbing Vin's wrist, "look, it's not you leaving, it's how you did it. At least with Wendy it is."

"You don't know Wendy," Vince scoffed, wiping the sweat collecting over his lip, "she's- She's heartbroken and furious and it's my fault."

"I do know Wendy," Leo rolled his eyes, "she's petty as fuck and she's loyal and she's independent and you asked her to give up her life and move with you after you spent two months lying to her face and leading her on."

Vince's eyes widened and he shook his head, "I didn't lie, I just- What was there to tell if I hadn't made up my mind? Nothing."

"She's your girlfriend, of course you could've said something," Leo glared at him, "you think I'd be happy if Jonah just up and decided something after months of thinking it, when he never shared the plans with me? When I wasn't a part of the conversation?"

As if the realization suddenly hit him, Vince mouthed around nothing, confused, "I didn't... I didn't think of that."

Leo let out a little snort, before starting to drink his coke. He waited, patiently, as Vince came to terms with the new realization.

It took him a minute to put it into words, but he did it, crumpling forward and shielding his face with his hands, saying in a muffled voice, "I fucked up."

"You fucked up," Leo agreed, trying not to sound too harsh, "but she still took you back, so I'm gonna guess you didn't fuck up that badly."

"God knows why she did," Vince grumbled, removing a hand from his face and staring at the table, looking like he wanted to say something and failing.

Leo's winced in sympathy, "look, we love you, Vin. All of us. That's not gonna change, okay? They'll get over it."

"Yeah," his friend nodded, not looking like he believed it, "you should come visit..." he didn't raise his eyes from the table, "I'm really going to miss you, kid."

Leo's valiant smile and upbeat attitude wavered a little and he only nodded, not quite managing to fake it, "yeah, I'll miss you too..."

"I think we should get going, I still have to hit the road..." Vince cringed just at the thought. His father had let him borrow the car, so he could retrieve all the boxes from Wendy's apartment and the trunk and backseat were already loaded up.

He still had to swing by his girlfriend's apartment to get some stuff and to say goodbye... And his stomach was burning just thinking of it.

Everything felt horrible, from getting up to hugging Leo goodbye, to driving away and the prospect of the four hours long drive before him... And saying goodbye to Wendy...

Vince was so caught up in his own angst, that he completely missed the car parked next to Wendy's pink one. He had started to sweat back in the restaurant, clammy perspiration over saying goodbye to Leo, but that by now he knew was more than just that.

He felt downright woozy during the elevator ride, the small lunch he had been able to force down starting to flip in his stomach. Vince leaned against Wendy's red front door, resting his forehead on it and took a measured breath.

He just had to fake it for half an hour more. Just enough to kiss her goodbye and try not to start crying over it and then...

"And you think it's the meds?" Wendy's voice travelled through the door and Vince groaned, as he quickly realized she had company, Bella's voice answering.

"I hope it's just the meds... I'm scared, Wendy - Fuck that, I'm overwhelmed..."

"Of course you are, it's a lot to handle on your own, Bells..."

Vince turned the doorknob, deciding to make his presence known sooner rather than later. He was already in both women's shit list, the last thing he wanted was to be accused of eavesdropping on them.

As soon as he opened the door, the talking died down and both girls turned to face him. Bella was leaning against the dining table, while Wendy was on the opposite side, putting the decor back on top of the table after they had lunch.

He could still smell it in the air, raspberry pie and something else.

"Oh hey, you're back early!" Wendy's voice went up a note, all awkward in a way that wasn't like her at all. She glanced nervously at Bella, who had crossed her arms defensively and raised her eyebrows.

"Hi," Bell said coolly and Vin all but flinched at her tone.

He loved this girl like a sister and it was a slap to the face to be treated like that.

"Hi," Vince gripped the doorknob, "I'm on my way out," which was the wrong thing to say, because Bell let out an incredulous, bitter scoff, while Wendy promptly dropped the vase she was holding down on the table, looking spooked.

"Already? I thought you were only leaving tonight..." She looked all heartbroken, "I thought we'd have more time-"

"Don't let the door hit you on your way out," Bella said and Vince reeled at her tone, while Wendy's mouth hung open, her heart shaped face turning pink.

"That's fucking enough, Bell," she glared at the ginger, "you can be civilized or you can leave."

A horrible warmth spread all over Vince and he breathed in deeply through his nose. The floor seemed to be swimming, nausea clinging to the back of his throat.

"I'm not gonna coddle him just because-"

"This isn't about Vince and you know it, you're letting your feelings get in the way-"

"Yeah, damn right I am!" Bella exclaimed, her voice a note louder and Vince groaned, as it made his head pound.

He was going to be sick.

His mouth filled with saliva and he gulped down nervously, trying to think through the horrible fog. He could bolt for the bathroom, but that would get them questioning him, besides... He really didn't want to impose on Wendy, she was already being too understanding-

"Helloooo? I'm talking with you, jackass," Bella's voice cut through the haze and Vince struggled to focus on her. She had moved closer, while Wendy was hot on her heels, looking flustered and pissed off.

"You really should go now, Bella-"

"Fuck no, I won't, not until he looks at me-"

"Move," Vince groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and darting a hand forward. It touched Bell's wrist and he squeezed it as well, "Bella, get out of the way-"

"What the fuck do you think you're doing!?" Bella's voice suddenly was much louder, "let go off me-" the implication of her words was more nauseating than anything and Vince's stomach surged up in his throat... And he didn't have it in him to even fight it.

He bent in half, shoving Bella back to avoid getting her combat boots covered in sick and then lost his lunch on Wendy's foyer. All over his boots.

Vince swayed on the spot, a cramp hitting him fiercely and he would've crumpled down to his knees, wasn't it for Bella grabbing him suddenly.

"Vince?! Vin, what the fuck!?" Bella exclaimed right next to his ear, her voice strained by the effort of keeping him collapsing. He was far too big for her, if his knees fully gave in, he'd pull them both down, "what's wrong? Are you sick? Are you hurt?!"

All that anger gone in the flick of a wrist.

Vince let out a groan, squeezing his stomach. Everything felt horrible, his head felt completely disconnected from his body, his belly was sour and far from empty, churning up a storm and he was freezing...

"Aw honey," Wendy's voice, a balm to his nerves, made Vince open his eyes. A towel had already been draped over the puddle of sick and his girlfriend had wrapped her arm around his opposite side, helping Bella hold him up, "you're not well, I can feel the fever from here..."

"I'm g-" His throat constricted and Vince gulped down against the knot in there, "gon'besick..."

"Yeah, help us," Bella gasped, sounding worried and frustrated as they tried to move him to the bathroom. Without his help, not even in a pair they could do much.

Vince nodded, shivering violently and leaning on them, using all his force to move. He collapsed down on the bathroom floor, taking Bella with him since she was the one further inside.

There wasn't much time to think as he pushed the toilet lid up and tried, vaguely, not to cause a bigger mess. His stomach cramped again, squeezing, and Vince white knuckled the porcelain, heaving.

A hand cupped his forehead, supporting his heavy head and Vince leaned into the soft touch with a sob. His thoughts were a jumbled mess, flip flopping between the horrible sensation of his body and the confusion and hurt over the previous interaction.

"I'm-ssssorry..." Vince slurred, sounding and feeling drunk, trying to get rid of the line of thick spit dangling from his bottom lip.

"Shut up," Bella said quietly, dabbing his lip with a wad of toilet paper, "jesus, you're soaked..."

"Here," Wendy, crouching down next to them, planting a humid washcloth to the back of his neck. Vince let his eyes slip closed, immediately regretting it as in the darkness he could feel the room twirling around him-

"Arms up," Bella, grabbing his elbow, "c'mon, big guy, help me here."

"Whataare... What are you doing...?" Vince forced his eyes open and realized he was no longer slumped over the toilet, but propped against the cold wall of the bathroom. Wendy was standing near the sink, re-wetting the washcloth.

"You're boiling," Bell explained, all soft, "we need to get your temperature down."

He really didn't feel like he could trust her, not after all the yelling, not after she had been ignoring him... Besides, it was freezing.

"No, 'mnot..."

"Yes, you are, Vin," Bella pushed his damp hair back, looking terribly concerned, "this is going to help, okay?"

"Uhm-" he couldn't help but lean on her touch, letting his eyes close. Sure, he was hurt over Bell's words and she was pissed at him, but it was still Bella...

"Honey," Wendy, patting his cheek, "Vin, open your eyes... Vin..."

He tried to force them open, ready to cry over not being able to just fucking sleep. Being awake just meant feeling like he was about to spew the food he had eaten back in 8th grade, he'd much rather sleep-

"Vince," Wendy shook him a little harder and Vince opened his eyes. He was shirtless now, which was more than a little concerning. He didn't remember taking his shirt off.

Bella was perched on the bathtub, watching over them, and Wendy was crouched in front of him, cupping his face.

Vince's head swam as he tried to focus on his girlfriend. Wendy's eyes were the size of platters, all worried.

"Hi..."

"Hey," she forced a smile, stroking his cheek, "how are you feeling?"

"Like crap," Vince groaned and couldn't help a small smile as he heard Bella snort.

"Yeah?" Wendy rolled her eyes, "when did you start feeling sick, honey?"

"Uhm..." Vince winced as another cramp hit him and he curled up, sucking in the air. It took a second to breath through the hot, sharp pain and as soon as the iron grip in his inside eased, a new wave of nausea hit him. He was sweating, gulping nervously as his mouth watered and his tongue felt too big for his mouth, "don't feel good..."

"I know, sweetheart," Wendy smoothed his hair back, "I just need to know for how long this has been going on. Were you sick this morning?"

She sounded so... Calm. So gentle. Somewhere in the recess of his mind Vince knew this wasn't a good thing, that this was Wen using her doctor voice. The last thing he wanted was to be an even bigger bother-

Tears stung his eyes and Vince curled up even more, turning his head away from Wendy... His eyes paused on Bella and she looked horribly guilty. Twice as concerned. None of the calm that Wendy sported, panic was written all over her face.

"I'm so sorry," she said before Vince could say anything and a sob bubbled up, making his whole frame shake. Vince ducked his head, he didn't want to cry, but the fever was frying at his nerves and before he head any control over it, big fat tears started to run down his cheeks.

"Hey, hey..." Wendy whispered, moving up and wrapping her arms around him, pulling Vince into a tight hug, "hey, I got you. You're okay-"

"I'm sorry," he mumbled into her hair, words sticking together, shaking them both, "I'm sorry, I don't- I'm making a mess, I've made a mess-"

"No, no, we're fine," Wendy squeezed him, kissing the side of his head, "we're working through it, right? We're okay- You're okay-"

"No, I'm not, I don't- I hate this. Everything is wrong and I feel wrong, and-" Vince sobbed, his words jumbling together in one continuous stream that made no sense even to his own ears and suddenly there was another pair of arms wrapped around him, squeezing him even tighter than Wendy was.

"B-Bell...?"

"I'm here- You-you're okay," she mumbled, voice muffled since Bella's cheek was squished to his shoulder, "we're okay, alright? We're gonna be okay."

"But- but you hate..." Vince whimpered and Bella pulled back, all but replacing Wendy in cupping his face, forcing their eyes to meet.

"No, I'm furious at you, I don't hate you," she glared at him, "not for a second, Vin."

This was all very touching, but Vince's stomach apparently hadn't gotten the memo he was having a moment, because suddenly he was gagging.

Bella jumped out of the way and both women pushed him forward to lean over the bowl, just in time for the rest of his stomach lining to make a reappearance. He coughed and coughed, but there wasn't much more to bring up and Vince was left panting and sobbing, curled up over the toilet bowl.

He felt Bella's fingers moving through his sweaty hair, Wendy squeezing his arm as she got up from the ground, "stay with him, I'm gonna settle the room. Clearly he's not stopping any time soon."

Vince groaned, he didn't need Bell to sit with him, he didn't need a nanny... Bella flicked at his ear.

"No one said anything about you needing a nanny," she scoffed, before continuing to comb his hair, "you seem hellbent on throwing up on me."

Vince let out a surprised chuckle, eyes closed as he breathed through the nausea that was starting back up, "it's the least you deserve after yelling at me like that."

Bella snorted, running her hand up and down his naked back, "god, I'm gonna fucking miss you."

#HI IS THIS ANYTHING #sickfic #stomach flu #emetophilia #emeto #mywriting #vince monacelli #here have 3 caretakers for the price of 1

[friendlyfox34]

They’re sick with a bad stomach flu

#sick #stomach flu #tummy ache #fnf dnb

[1heartsickfics]

Hi! Your stories are amazing. I’m totally addicted. Zayn and Andrew are such a cute couple. I was hoping you’d be able to write something about Zaun being sick to his stomach and insisting on going to work because he’s a teacher and he needs to. I’m a teacher and I’ve had to work though sooo many bugs and it’s awful. I literally keep a box of supplies at work just in case. Bonus if someone has to come get him because he’s too sick to get himself home and they give him the whole, “I told you so”

“Morning babe,” Andrew said as he heard Zayn enter the kitchen. When he recieved no reply he looked up from the book he was reading. “You okay?” He asked.

Zayn just shrugged. He was already dressed for work, wearing slacks and a button down, but he looked tired and uncomfortable.

“I feel kinda sick to my stomach,” Zayn answered after a moment. He was cradling his belly with one hand.

“Maybe you should stay home today,” Andrew said, getting up and moving to Zayn’s side. He gently guided Zayn over to their dining table by his elbow and pressed him down onto the chair. “They can’t find a sub on this late of notice,” Zayn shook his head.

Andrew took a seat next to his husband and reached forward to press the back of his hand to Zayns cheek. He felt a little warm, he’d probably caught some kind of bug from the kids at school. “I know, but you really don’t look well hon,” Andrew said sadly, knowing that he was fighting a losing battle. “I’ll just have it be a work day for my students, I’ll be okay,” he shrugged, his mind clearly already made up. “Okay..” Andrew sighed, clearly worried. Zayn could be so stubborn when he was sick. At least he’d been open about telling Andrew he didn’t feel well. That was progress. “I’ll be fine babe,” Zayn said, smiling weakly to try and reassure his husband. “Okay, I hope your kids behave for you today,” Andrew said, leaning forward to kiss Zayn’s cheek as he stood up to take his breakfast dishes to the sink.

“Me too,” Zayn sighed, forcing himself to get up from the table and finish getting ready. As he was putting his shoes and coat on, Andrew came in and held out a tote bag to him. “Here, I made you a little sick day care package to take to work.” Zayn peaked into the bag. A packet of chamomile tea, some mints, pepto, some saltines, and a can of ginger ale. “You’re so sweet, thank you,” Zayn said, slinging the bag over his shoulder along with his backpack. Andrew smiled at him sadly. He sounded exhausted already and his day hadn’t even begun yet.

“Call me if you need anything and I can run it up to you okay?” Andrew said, leaning over to give Zayn another peck on the cheek. “I will. I love you,” Zayn answered, feeling so grateful for Andrew.

“I love you too.” Andrew replied as Zayn stepped outside and headed to work. Andrew just hoped he could make it through the day.

———————————————————————

The drive to the elementary school had felt longer than usual. Each turn made Zayn’s stomach flip. By the time he arrived and parked his car, he was s already starting to feel nauseous. Once he got to his classroom he took a swig of the pepto and popped a mint into his mouth. Then he headed to the teachers lounge to heat up some water for the tea. He hoped that would be enough. Thankfully, he managed to calm his stomach down to a dull ache by the time his students started arriving. He didn't greet them all as he usually did, but tried to give each student a smile and a wave as they entered the classroom and made their way to their seat.

"Alright, how's everyone doing today?" Zayn asked his class after the bell rang. He received a chorus of words that he couldn't understand, as usual.

"Anyone have any fun plans this weekend" he asked as he wheeled his chair out from behind his desk to sit at the front of the classroom and sat back down in front of the students. A few raised their hands and told him about their family outings or sporting events taking place this weekend.

"Awesome, thanks for sharing guys," he said, debating on what he wanted to tell them. "So, I'm going to be honest with you all, I am a little under the weather today. So we're just going to have a work-day. That means that if you've got any assignments due or late work to catch up on, you can do that. Otherwise, you're free to read a book, do some creative writing, or find an art project from our creation corner," he explained.

"Are you sick Mr.Kalani?" one of his students asked, looking concerned.

"Yeah sweetie I am," Zayn sighed.

"My mom says you should stay home when you're sick," another student spoke up.

"Your mom is right," Zayn chuckled lightly, "I wanted to stay home but there wasn't enough time to find a sub for you guys, so I'm just going to power through," he explained.

"So, I'll be at my desk if anyone needs me. Feel free to listen to music if you want but no games and try to keep chitchat at a whisper level okay?" he continued, finishing up his instructions.

With that, his students started rummaging around in their backpacks for assignments and books. Luckily, he had a pretty good class this year. No real problem students, just some kids who liked to talk during class a little too much, but he could handle that.

Zayn scooted back to his desk, wishing he could just dim the lights and take a nap. His stomach was already starting to turn again. Maybe he should see if they could at least get a sub for the second half of the day.

He opened his email and typed a message to the principal:

'Hello Mr. Whitman,

I am feeling pretty ill this morning and wanted to see if there was any possibility of getting a sub for my class starting after lunch. I can power through if I need to but a half day would be much appreciated.

Thanks,

Zayn'

He hit send before he could have second thoughts. Normally he wouldn't even ask but he genuinely felt so unwell that he really wasn't sure he actually could make it through the day. Andrew had been right.

Mr. Whitman responded within minutes: 'I'll see what I can do'. Which was about the best response Zayn could've hoped for.

As the minutes ticked on, Zayn's stomach grew more and more upset. He could feel it churning sickly and resisted the urge to press his hand to it. A few times his stomach lurched, thankfully only forcing up belches that he attempted to muffle into his fist.

By some miracle, he made it to 10 o'clock, which was when his class went to gym. He got everyone lined up and led them through the school to the gymnasium.

Mr. Penn immediately got the kids started with a game of dodgeball, then walked over to where Zayn was slumped against the wall.

"You feeling alright?" Mr. Penn asked.

Zayn shook his head, "Not really. Hoping Mr. Whitman can get a sub for me after lunch."

"Yeah hopefully he can, you really aren't looking so good," Mr. Penn said, cringing in sympathy. "You can go back to your classroom if you want, I've got 'em. I'll bring 'em back to you in an hour," he added, nodding toward the door.

"Thank you," Zayn breathed out, giving the other teacher a grateful smile before slinking out and heading back to his classroom. Standing had made him feel about 15 times worse. The nausea had returned in full force, making him press a fist to his mouth as he walked, afraid something might come out if he didn't.

Once he was sitting as his desk again the nausea receded slightly, but he still felt like he could throw up at any moment. He cracked open the can of ginger ale from Andrew and took a careful sip. The cool fizzy drink did feel nice in his sick belly, but it didn't lessen the feeling of nausea. Zayn leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, focusing on taking slow breaths through his nose. He must have drifted off though because he was startled awake when the door swung open and his kids filed in.

“Thanks,” he croaked to Mr. Penn, forcing himself to stand up even as his stomach sloshed in protest. “Hang in there brother,” Mr. Whitman said quietly on his way back out the door. Zayn nodded in thanks, afraid to say more. He was actively fighting back the nausea at this point, willing his stomach to stay in place. This was not good.

His students had all made their way back to their seats and were looking at him expectantly. He must really not look well because they weren't even talking amongst themselves, just watching him.

"Mr. K?" one of his students asked. Their voice sounded far away though, his ears were ringing.

His mouth started filling with saliva and he knew that it was over. There was nothing he could do. He rushed over to his desk and crouched down behind it to at least shield himself from his kids' eyes as he leaned over the trash can just in time to throw up what little he'd ingested.

"EWW!" a chorus of disgusted sounds and laughter came from his class on the other side of his desk. He couldn't worry about that right now though, he was too busy focusing on breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth so he wouldn't throw up again.

He felt a small hand on his shoulder, "Mr. K should I go get some help?" one of his students, a sweet girl named Molly asked, standing behind him.

"Yes please," he rasped, cheeks flushing red. "Thank you Molly," he added as she turned to head out of the room. He couldn't believe that this had just happened. He'd never hear the end of it.

A minute later Molly returned with the teacher from across the hall, Mrs. Davis. She instructed Molly to return to her seat and asked his class to read quietly for a few minutes.

"Hey," she said, crouching down next to Zayn. "Came down with a bug huh?" she asked, smiling sympathetically. It happened to all new teachers in the winter. Kids bring in a lot of germs and it takes a few years to develop the immune system to fight everything off.

"I'm so sorry," Zayn said, dropping his head down into his hands. "I thought I could make it through the day."

"We always do. It happens to the best of us Zayn don't worry," she tried to reassure him. Zayn smiled woefully, but felt absolutely humiliated. And nauseous.

"I have two paras watching my kids right now so I can cover yours until Mr. Whitman finds a sub or figures something out. So whenever you're ready, grab your stuff and get out of here, okay?" she told him.

"Thank you Sara, I owe you one," Zayn sighed, taking a deep breath to try and regain his composure. He was already dreading standing up to the prying eyes of his students.

"No need, like I said, it happens," she shook her head, "Are you okay to drive home?" she asked. He really did not look well. His skin was deathly pale and ashen, damp with sweat. His hands shook as he reached up to brush his hair out of his face. He hardly looked fit to stand, let alone drive.

"Uh, yeah..." Zayn trailed off, not so sure, "I can call Andy," he finished, deciding that was probably the better idea. The last thing he needed was to puke all over himself while trying to drive home.

"That's probably a good idea," Sara nodded. "You ready to get up?" she asked.

Zayn nodded, though he wasn't really. Sara grabbed his elbow and gently helped him to his feet. He swayed, immediately dizzy, but grabbed the edge of his desk to steady himself. As he started to pack up his things he could feel the kids' eyes on him.

"I'm going to be hanging out with you guys for a while since Mr. Kalani isn't feeling well," Mrs. Davis said, walking to the front of the room and addressing his class.

"Feel better Mr.K!" a couple of kids called out as he finished packing his things.

"Thank you," he smiled gratefully, thankful to have such a sweet class. "Be good for Mrs. Davis okay? Hopefully I'll be back tomorrow," he added, waving to them as he shakily headed for the door.

As soon as he was out of eye sight, he leaned against the wall and pulled his phone out of his pocket. Opening a text to Andy he typed 'Can you come get me? I threw up and I really don't feel good' and sent it.

Almost immediately he got a response back: 'Poor baby :( omw'

Andrew had probably been waiting around, expecting this to happen. Zayn wished he'd just listened to him and stayed home today. Then this whole mess never would have happened.

By the time Zayn trudged his way to the back exit of the school, Andrew was parked and waiting for him. He got out, rushing over to Zayn to take his bag from him, then placed a hand on his back to lead him over to the car. Zayn carefully got into the passenger seat, afraid to upset his stomach any more than it already was.

"How's your stomach feeling?" Andrew asked after getting back into the driver's seat.

"Not good," Zayn shook his head. He was still unbearably nauseous, stomach feeling sour and unsettled.

"Here, just in case," Andrew said, handing Zayn a plastic bag. Zayn took it wordlessly, squeezing his eyes shut against the nausea and vertigo... and tears.

"Baby?" Andrew asked gently, seeing a tear slide down his husband's cheek. "What happened?"

"I puked in front of my whole class!" Zayn managed to get out before he burst into tears, pitching forward with a sob.

"Oh sweetie," Andrew sighed, rubbing a hand up and down Zayn's back. Zayn turned to bury his face in Andrew's shoulder, tears soaking into his flannel. Andrew wrapped his arm around Zayn, leaning down to press a kiss onto his forehead, which was burning with fever.

Zayn hiccuped, a sob morphing into a, thankfully, unproductive gag.

"Try to calm down Z, you're gonna make yourself sick again," Andrew said softly, rubbing Zayn's arm.

"I-i'm just so embarrassed," Zayn cried, sniffling as he tried to calm himself down.

"I know baby, I'm so sorry this happened. I'm sure it has happened to plenty of other teachers though," Andrew tried to reassure him.

"That's what Sara Davis said," Zayn sighed, reaching up to wipe the tears off his face. "She took over my class," he added, taking a slow shaky breath as the tears subsided.

"There you go, see? It happens. No big deal alright?" Andrew said, giving Zayn's shoulder a squeeze before retracting his arm to put the car in drive.

"I guess," Zayn shrugged, not really convinced but settled enough for now.

"Let's just get you home okay?" Andrew nodded, pulling out of the parking lot and heading for home.

#zayn and andrew #sick zayn #caretaker andrew #vomiting #tw vomit #vomit tw #stomach flu #upset stomach #comfort #hurt comfort #oc story

[sickficideas]

I personally hc that Ango gets sick very often due to his lack of sleep, and because he works with so many others he tends to catch their illnesses ( stomach bugs more often than most ) and every time he does end up sick he goes to the bar and Odasaku is always there and when oda sees him he takes Ango to his house and makes sure he’s taken care of

I also like the idea of Ango overworking himself when he’s sick because he feels work is most important and every time Oda interrogates him for doing it but Ango doesn’t stop, the only time he will stop is the few times he’s gotten sick all over his papers and oda came to hold his hair back and tell him I told you so

Ango has severe Motion sickness and sometimes because of his lack of sleep he forgets to take his meds, oda drives him to work each day and sometimes it’ll end up with Ango throwing up on the floor of the car, he’s one to be very apologetic but oda reassures him it’s fine and coaxes him to let it all out while rubbing his back 🫶

yesss anon these are so good 💖 Ango is a sickly little princess for sure...I love the idea of him so sick he can't move, curled up in Oda's bed and feverishly promising him he'll take better care of himself in the future but he never does 😭 Oda has learned to accept it and he takes good care of him anyway 🥺💖

I think the motion sickness stressing Ango out the most...when he's sick at work from overdoing it he's usually pretty out of it, but in the car he's fully aware of what's happened, his hands pressed against his tummy and trying so so hard to quell his nausea because he feels awful for making a mess in Oda's car 😭 Oda really doesn't mind, he feels bad that Ango is so horribly motion sick, the mess is the car is the last thing he cares about💔💔💔

#they are so sweet im heartbroken #bsd headcanons #oda #ango #odango #vomiting #emeto #motion sickness #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd #illness #sick #ask box #stomach flu #nausea

[rebelwhump]

Bathtub: Part 2

Part 1

CW: emeto

__

“Jazz, what’s…oh shit!” Alice exclaimed, throwing the door open and stepping inside. “Are you okay? What the fuck happened?” 

Alice couldn’t answer, too distraught and embarrassed about what had just transpired. Her face was wet with tears as she stopped gagging and started to sob. 

“Hey, you’re alright. I’m gonna help you, okay?” Alice knelt down next to the tub, careful to avoid the puddle of sick that had sloshed over the edge. 

Jasmine brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. “I…w-want my…want b-brett.”

“I know, babes. Let’s get you out of the tub,” Alice said, looking down at the yellowish vomit floating on the water's surface. “Uh, can you open the drain? Then we can rinse you off.” Although puke didn’t really bother her, she would rather avoid having to stick her arm in that water. 

“M’sorry. This is s-so gross,” Jasmine cried while submerging her hand to search for the drain and pulled the plug. Slowly, the water receded, leaving chunks of vomit that were too big to fit down the drain. Alice grimaced.

“It’s fine,” she said - not denying the fact that it was, indeed, gross - “Let’s just get you out and dressed.” She helped her friend stand in the tub while turning on the shower head to rinse her off. Being roommates for years, they had seen each other naked or in various states of undress before, but this was a particularly vulnerable moment. Alice averted her eyes as much as possible to allow her some semblance of privacy. 

A sudden gag brought Alice’s sky blue eyes back up to meet Jasmine’s rich dark brown ones. They conveyed an overwhelming sense of fear and humiliation. Jasmine slapped a hand over her mouth, muffling a thick belch. 

“Don’t fight it. You’re already in the tub, might as well let it out.” Alice could see her struggling to hold it in. A strong thump on her back had Jasmine burping up a stream of vomit into the bath. She struggled to catch her breath, more tears streaming down her face. “You good?”

Although she wasn’t sure she was completely empty, she let Alice wrap her in a turquoise towel and guide her out of the tub to sit on the lid of the toilet. “I wanna die,” she whimpered, hugging her tender tummy.

Limp as a rag doll, Alice struggled to help her friend dress and comb her unnaturally long hair. They stumbled into Jasmine's bedroom together, as she was too dizzy to make the walk there unassisted. She collapsed onto the bed, now wearing a pair of loose fitting blue sweats and a thin white t-shirt. Curling up, she grabbed a pillow and hugged it to her middle.

“My tummy hurts and I feel so sick and I just want Brett, but he won’t text me back because I’m a terrible girlfriend and I’m too much and…” 

“Woah, slow down there,” Alice interrupted. Her friend was spiraling, and she cringed at how pitiful she sounded. “Look, I’ll call your boy toy, okay? Just lay here and try not to puke again.” 

Out in the living room, Alice pulled out Jasmine’s phone and scrolled through her contacts before coming across Brett’s name with a bunch of heart emojis after it. It rang and rang before going to voicemail, which was full. She tried calling again and finally someone answered the phone. 

“Hello?” The voice was deep and smooth. 

“Brett? This is Alice, Jasmine's roommate.”

“Brett’s not able to come to the phone right now. I’m his brother, Paul.” 

Why the fuck was his brother answering his phone? Alice thought. “Do you normally go around answering other people's phones?”

 “What do you…” she cut him off. 

“Nevermind. Look, I need to speak with Brett. It’s about his girlfriend. She’s really sick.”

“If it’s a stomach bug, she most likely caught it from my brother. He’s been laid up for days and just fell asleep…I’m actually in the middle of something, but I’ll tell him you called when he wakes up,” Paul said before promptly ending the call.

Alice scoffed and headed back into the bedroom. Jasmine was still curled up with a pillow, sniffling pitifully. “Looks like your boyfriend was patient zero. Sounds like he’s not gonna be able to come over Jazz. I’m sorry.”

Jasmine lifted her head, eyes wide. “You talked to him?

“No, his brother. What a dick,” she exclaimed.

“Paul?” She sounded surprised. “He’s always been nice to me.” A burp slipped past her lips and she grimaced at the sour taste that lingered on her tongue. 

“Yeah, well, he said Brett’s asleep but that he’d let him know we called.” Alice went about setting up the room to get Jasmine ready for the night. She replaced the half-full plastic bag that lined the small waste bin, setting it next to the bed. A bottle of aspirin and a glass of water were put within reach on the nightstand. “Need anything else?”

“No,” Jasmine whispered, her voice hoarse from puking. Alice rubbed her arm before heading back out into the living room, leaving the door open a crack in case she called for her. 

The night was pretty uneventful after that - Jasmine slept while Alice played Horizon Zero Dawn on her PlayStation. Until around 1am, when there was a knock at the door. Alice looked through the peephole to find Brett standing on the other side. She opened the door to reveal a disheveled man with a head of messy brown curls, wearing Nike shorts and a pair of black slides. 

“Where is she?” Brett said urgently, pushing his way past Alice in the doorway. 

“Come on in, why don’t you.” She rolled her eyes. “Jazz is sleeping. Which is what I thought you were doing? You look like you could use it.”

Brett stumbled into the kitchen, waving Alice off. “I’m fine. How is she?” A part of her was jealous that her friend had someone who cared for her enough to show up in the middle of the night, clearly still sick himself, just to check on his girlfriend. 

“After pulling an exorcist in the bathtub, I got her into bed and she knocked the fuck out shortly after,” Alice explained, pulling out a chair from their dining room table. “Here. Sit down before you keel over. You look like shit.”

“Gee, thanks,” Brett rolled his eyes, but followed her suggestion and sat down anyway. He was still feeling drained and a little woozy from his own bout with the stomach flu. 

A glass of water was pushed into his hand, urging him to drink. He definitely needed it. He was so dehydrated after being unable to keep down fluids for over a day. Brett greedily slurped it down before letting out a relieved sigh. Alice raised an eyebrow and refilled the glass for him, but he suddenly realized that all that water was sitting quite heavily in his belly. He rubbed his stomach and let out a small wet burp. 

“You okay?” Alice asked. In response, Brett nodded but kept his mouth closed as he swallowed down another burp. The thought of grabbing a bowl or trash can crossed Alice’s mind, but was quickly dismissed when they heard retching coming from the other room. 

The two of them appeared in the doorway to find Jasmine’s shadowed figure hunched over the bin that was now on the bed, between her legs. Alice turned on her bedside lamp while Brett crawled onto the mattress and held the hair back from his girlfriend's face while she continued to heave. When Jasmine finally opened her eyes, her mouth dropped at the sight of her partner in bed with her. 

“W-what are you doing here?” She asked weakly, arms still wrapped around the small trash can filled with vomit. 

“My brother told me you were sick. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner, baby,” he replied, gently rubbing her back. Tears filled her eyes as she nuzzled up to him, burying her face in his neck. Alice was quick to grab the sick bin before she knocked it over and went to the bathroom to replace the plastic bag liner. 

“I-I t-thought you were m-mad at m-me,” Jasmine sobbed into his shoulder. His heart broke at her confession.

“Oh babe, no. I’m not mad at you. Not at all!” Brett assured her. 

“But y-you didn’t an-answer my texts.” She muffled a sickly little burp into his now damp shirt. 

“I’m so so sorry. I’ve been really sick, baby. The last couple days have been a total blur.” He continued to rub her back while she curled up in his lap. “I’m gonna…make it up to you though,” he paused, swallowing hard. There was a lump in his throat and the water he slurped down was sloshing uncomfortably in his belly. Jasmine’s ear was pressed to his tummy and she could hear the upset gurgles and whines.

“Are you okay?” She asked nervously, sitting up to get a good look at her boyfriend's face. He was pale and a little shaky, his lips pressed together in a thin line. He swallowed convulsively, throat bobbing, before moving quickly off the bed and out of the room. He barely made it to the bathroom before the water came rushing up and he dove for the sink. 

Alice was still in the bathroom, cleaning out the waste bin in the tub after discovering an unfortunate hole in the plastic bag. “What the fuck!?” Brett was panting over the sink, one hand bracing himself on the counter, while the other was clutching his stomach.

“Oh god…m’ sorry,” he mumbled as he wiped his chin with his sleeve. Alice walked over and placed a hand on his back, waiting for him to finish.

“Alright, let’s get you back to bed with the other sickie.” She escorted him back to the room and he crawled into bed next to his girlfriend who was sitting up with a worried expression on her face. 

“I’m fine, babe. I guess my stomach’s still a little sensitive,” he explained while gently patting his tummy. “Sorry.” Brett’s eyes were apologetic. He felt bad because he went there with the intention of taking care of his girlfriend and ended up getting sick himself. He knew how she reacted to puking and he was scared that he’d trigger a panic attack. However, she surprised him by wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Jasmine said softly. They melted into each other's touch, getting comfortable on the bed. 

Alice brought in another trash can and glass of water to set on Brett’s side of the bed. “You two get some rest. Just holler if you need me…and try not to puke on anything.” 

Brett rolled his eyes and Jasmine’s already flushed cheeks deepened in color. “How’s your tummy?” He asked.

“Uhm…not so good,” she replied sheepishly. 

“Would you like me to rub it?” Jasmine froze at the thought of him touching her stomach when it was this upset. It made her uncomfortable, but she also desperately wanted relief from the crampy sensation in her gut. Deciding to let him comfort her, she nodded and he reached his hand under her top to palm her bloated belly. Gently, he began massaging her upper abdomen, slowly moving down past her belly button. “Is this okay?”

“Ye-URRP.” She was cut off by a loud belch that was dislodged when he pressed on a pocket of gas in her tummy. Smothering her face into his thigh, she let out a whine. “Oh my god. I’m sorry. That’s so gross.”  

Brett chuckled and ran his fingers through her shiny black hair. “Baby, don’t worry about it. You’re never gross. Do you feel better now?”

“Yeah, a little,” she admitted, feeling slightly less bloated. 

“Good.” He continued with the belly rub, coaxing up a couple more burps, and once again, Jasmine hid her face in embarrassment. They stayed like that for almost an hour until Jasmine’s eyelids grew heavy and she relaxed enough to fall asleep. Shortly after, Brett did too, his arms still wrapped around her small frame. 

#sickfic #emeto #burping #nausea #vomiting #bloated #tummy rubs #my writing #jasmine sato #brett carlisle #whump writing #emetophilia #stomach flu

[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. 

#emeto #emetophilia #sickfic #my ocs #vomiting #emetophile #emeto fiction #emeto fic #vomit kink #emetophiliac #stomach flu #stomach bug #upset stomach #puke without plot #puke with plot :) #puke #fever fic #fever #delirium fic #delirium #micah #Alexi #puke kink #puke fic

[boysbellyrubs]

Detectives

hello. so i’ve gotten into crime novels and detective stuff lately, and so i made these characters :)). i tried to give some little details and clues to their personalities and friendship, but i’m not the best with that lmao.

—-

Detective Inspector Jack Woods was not a stranger to gruesome and disgusting crime scenes, taking pride in never getting queasy over it. It was something he often boasted about it, foregoing his nonchalant attitude to actually brag about not getting sick over a few mangled bodies. This time, he wasn’t bragging. Staring at the body of a young man that had been shot and ran over in a hit and run was enough to get his stomach churning. It was dark and cold, but Jack was sweating.

The other officers were milling about, talking amongst themselves before one came right up to Woods’ face, expecting conversation. He tore his eyes away from the body, “Yes?”

She stiffened at his tone, “Body was found around half an hour ago, with no signs of any other persons on the premises. Do you want a closer look at the crime scene?”

Jack looked past her shoulder to the body again and shook his head quickly. He wasn’t about to go and puke in front of everyone. She gave him another strange look but left, going back to her partner. The police lights were disorienting so he turned away, breathing sharply through his nose. He could still feel his stomach twisting, his brain holding onto the picture of the boy's disfigured body. Jack stared at the ground. What was up with him tonight?

All day he had felt like he wasn’t really all there. With a tickle of a headache blooming behind his eyes and the smell of any and all food making his belly churn, he was worried he might be coming down with something. He couldn’t afford a week off work, with cases piling up left and right, and an upcoming court case, there was no way the Chief would be pleased with it. He tried to calm his thoughts when a hand clapped him on the shoulder.

“Rough night, huh? Kid looks like he got shredded.”

Jack closed his eyes, “Shut up, Harry. That’s insensitive.” The hand left his shoulder and Harry skirted round to his front.

“Alright, sorry. What’s up with you today?” Normally Jack would join in on Harry’s banter. Something to take the pressure off the situation. He was in no right mind to do so tonight.

“It’s nothing. I’m just-” He didn’t know he was going to say. He didn’t know if he was sick, but he couldn’t just admit he was getting queasy from a body. What kind of detective would he be? He settled on, “Long day.”

Harry seemed to agree, moving to stand beside him now but looking towards the crime scene. “Have you got any idea though? No leads or anything.” Jack heard him shuffle his feet, a nervous tick the other did whenever he complained. He faced him,

“I know. I think I’m gonna head back to the station, Harry. Clear my head.”

“Sure. You don’t mind if I tag along?” Harry was a little younger than Jack, and he seemed to like following him around. Jack didn’t mind much, he liked feeling useful. He often got paired with the younger detectives, although he was only 28 himself. Sometimes he wondered if the Chief thought he was older than he looked.

To answer Harry he shrugged and nodded, walking towards his car. Jack got in the drivers side although he was in no mood to drive with the way his head spun. He nearly pulled over and asked Harry to drive for him but they made it to the police station without any issues. Harry chatted his ear off the entire time, talking of his weekend and the possible suspects for the current murder. He was a good detective and Jack actually liked him. His past partners have been more often than not useless or assholes.

“What do you think Jack?”

Oh, he had been speaking? Jack was too focused on putting one foot in front of the other to even listen. He turned his head, “What?”

Harry’s face fell, “Have you not been listening? Something is up with you tonight. What is it?” He grabbed Jack’s arm, forcing him to stop. Before Jack even got a chance, a voice down the hall turned both of their heads.

“Woods, Lawrence! I hear you’ve got a pretty gnarly case on your hands.” Detective Parsons strode down the hall towards them. He was one of the older detectives and never really left the building. He was always trying to get involved, especially with them. Parsons happened to be Jack’s least favourite person in the entire bureau. He held down his groan.

“Yeah, it was bad.” Harry had still not learnt the art of short answers so Parsons was always given a reason to continue talking.

Parsons came right up to them, “Heard his head was pretty much destroyed. Got any leads?” Jack nearly puked at the reminder of the scene. Before Harry could answer, Jack quickly replied,

“No. But we’re busy so we’ll be seeing you Parsons.” He grabbed Harry’s shoulder and turned him around. Jack heard Parsons stupid mouth open again and stutter out a few words before giving up. He smiled a little to himself.

Harry chuckled a little, “You really don’t like him, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

They made it to their desks and dropped their notes (Harry’s notes) into a fresh manila folder, and decided that the night was over and that the case could wait until tomorrow. Jack sighed with relief, feeling his knees wobble a little as he picked up his coat draped over his chair. His eyes unfocused for a moment, and his ears filled with blood. He really needed to go home and lie down. Jack clocked out with Harry and they quickly left, not wanting anyone else to come up and talk to them.

Even though he was so close to being free, Jack felt his body degrading. Every step he took felt like it was plunged into glue, and pulling his leg up was impossible. He felt his shoulders slouching and his head felt like it was attached to a pogo stick. His stomach whined at him. Jack had been ignoring it all night, and now it seemed ready to give him payback. Harry had stopped talking beside him, finally recognising that his partner was not going to give him a response. As they entered the car park, Jack felt his stomach kick up a notch. He immediately stopped walking, placing a hand on his belly.

Harry turned, “Jack? You good?” His eyes flickered to the hand on his stomach and his eyebrows scrunched up. The air was suffocating him in the dingy underground car park, and Jack desperately needed a wall to lean against. He took a couple steps backwards and then spun around bent over, puke spilling through his mouth and onto the floor. He felt his body stagger and he finally hit a wall with his shoulder, stabilising him enough to continue vomiting. Jack’s mind produced HD quality images of the boy's body and he violently coughed up another round. He could barely hear Harry’s worried words next to him and the shy hand resting on his back as he heaved.

His stomach growled at him, pulling a groan from his lips. Jack bent forward more, spitting up rancid saliva and squeezing his middle. It was nearly impossible to open his eyes, knowing that when he did the concrete would be spinning. He coughed again and his stomach seemed to calm down, enough for him to twist himself around so his back was pressed against the wall. Jack let his head fall backwards.

Harry stood right in front of him, hands on his upper arms, “Hey, Jack? Jack, you with me?”

Jack groaned but gave a slight nod, one of his hands covering his aching eyes. His head felt like it was about to split open. Harry was muttering to himself about how ‘he knew something was wrong’ and ‘why didn’t he say anything?’. Jack smiled a little to himself,

“Didn’t realise you cared so much, rookie.” He mumbled. Slowly, he lowered his head and took his hand away from his eyes. Harry’s face swam into view,

“Of course. And I’m not a rookie anymore.” Harry grumbled. The other smiled a little more. God, he needed to get home. His eyes flickered to the pool of vomit beside him and he moaned at the sight, feeling like just a glance was going to send him puking all over again. He pushed off the wall, shrugging off Harry's arms lightly and took a step towards his car. Harry quickly caught up to him,

“Uh, do you need a hand or anything? Like getting home?”

Jack tried his best to unlock his vehicle, fiddling around with his keys. His hands were shaking violently and his bag weighed ten tons on his shoulder. He blew out a breath, handing the keys over to Harry as he leaned his hand on the roof of the car. The ground felt uneven and his mouth was filling with saliva again. Jack spat,

“Ugh, Jesus. Give me a sec, Ha-urp-rry.” Jack leant back, putting a few metres between himself and the car. He burped again. Just what he needed. Jack felt his belly curdle and suddenly he pitched forward and vomited up thin, yellow bile onto the concrete. It burned his throat immensely. He burped again, the rancid smell wafting into his face caused him to gag again and a little amount of foamy spit dribbled out of his mouth. He hoped Lawrence wasn’t watching this.

Jack straightened up, still clutching his abused stomach and tried his best to stabilise himself. It took staring at a random car’s license plate and a few short breathing exercises before he felt stable enough to turn around. Harry was sitting in the car, god bless, and was scrolling through his phone. Jack got into the other side, collapsing into the seat and (gingerly) threw his head back.

“Sounds like gastroenteritis. Stomach flu, duh. But uh, do you need anything before we start driving, I can probably find a bag or something just in case.” Harry rambled on. He looked over at Jack.

Jack gave him no response except for a snort. The kid meant well but if he didn’t start driving right now, Jack was going to throttle him and then probably puke on him. He mustered up some energy, “Just drive.”

—-

not much sick in this fic but just cause it’s the introduction. let me know if y’all wanna see them some more 😊😊

#i already love them lowkey #pls pls like them #emeto #stomach ache #sickfic #vomiting #emetophilia #oc's #Jack #Harry #belly kink #stomach flu