#OC emeto

[angstyaches]

Hi Flick! How about “my belly is really upset” for Rin with Charlie as caretaker?

I know it’s been a minute since you’ve written for Rin, but I love that girl 😊💜 Congrats again on over 1000 followers!

Hi, dear! The way I squealed when you requested Rin, thank you so much!!

100x10

CW: food mention, nausea, public setting.

___

Charlie heard the metal bottle in Rin’s bag clink against the armrest. He looked over as Rin shifted in her seat, the lights from the theatre screen glinting across her glasses. 

“Charlie Bear?” She leaned in close to whisper at him. The paper bucket had been emptied, banished to the floor, but the sickly-sweetness of the caramel popcorn lingered on her breath. “Sorry. My belly is really upset –” 

A loud hiccup jerked her frame and she glanced sheepishly towards the strangers seated nearby. She raised a hand to her mouth, shoulders lurching forward. 

Charlie gently took her arm. “Let’s go.” 

[outootome]

waking up from delusional dream

[hae-meto]

Doing this thing on twitter rn (btw my twitter is @hae_meto) where every rt and like equals to an increase in body temp and holy cow were people interested lmao

this dude should already be dead at this point 😫

But here are my doodles for each 0.5 degree increase (~38 degrees c) 🤙

Feeling… a little drowsy…

What’s up with him?

I don’t know. Told me he isn’t feeling good. He’s a little warm.

He’s still feeling like he’s gonna throw up.

Still have something to puke though?

Enjoy👍

[secretobsessionstuff]

The Early Days 💜

In the early days of their relationship, Riley tried his hardest not to burp around Madix. Really, he avoided any bodily functions for the first three months of their dating. It wasn’t a big deal—just a slight aversion to showing vulnerability. Definitely not something he needed to bring up in therapy. 

So, imagine his embarrassment when his belly started to gurgle nauseously on their fifth or sixth outing that happened to be a double date with Madix’s roommate. Dakota was very friendly and loud. His girlfriend, Blair, was more relaxed. They wanted to do something more social than a movie, so Madix suggested a boardgame café just off campus. The combination of new people, a colourful environment, and an upset tummy made him dizzy.   

It was early in the evening. The four of them talked about splitting a plate of nachos as long as they kept the cards and game pieces clean. Riley agreed to everything they said, knowing full well that he wouldn’t eat anything. His stomach still felt full from lunch, and the idea of adding greasy cheese to the mix made him shiver. 

“What’s your major, Riley?” Blair asked after taking her turn to play a card. She had a soft smile that made Riley wish he could engage better in the conversation. 

“Um…psychology.” 

“That’s exciting. I almost took psych but changed my mind because…” 

A hot layer of sweat coated Riley’s body when he felt a gurgle move through his intestines. He shifted in his seat, trying to dull the squelching sounds. He caught bits and pieces of Blair’s story, but his attention was entirely stolen by the writhing in his belly. 

This was bad. The nausea and lower stomach cramps battled for dominance. He was most worried about the bubbling sensation in his bowels. Sweat gathered under his armpits and his neck. Pretty soon he would have to find the bathroom and pray that nobody else needed to go. 

Blair finished speaking but Riley apparently forgot to say anything in reply. There was a long, drawn-out pause. He startled when he felt Madix’s hand softly touch his leg from under the table. 

“Oh, that’s cool,” Riley said lamely, pushing his chair back to get out from under the table. “Sorry, I’m just gonna find the washroom.” 

For the next half-hour, Riley came and went from the table. Sometimes he made up excuses about getting a drink, yet never coming back with a cup. Sometimes he left in the middle of a game without saying a word. Most of the time, he hid himself in the single-person washroom, thankful that no one else could come in. 

His belly couldn’t make up its mind about being empty or not. Whenever he thought that there could be no more water left in his cells, he was once again proven wrong by the urgent rumbling in his guts. At least the stomach cramps were never enough to make him vomit, despite the nausea that clung to him like humid air. 

• • •

“Madix, I don’t think your date understands the concept of ‘taking turns’,” Dakota remarked as he rearranged his hand of cards for the fifth time. “He does know that the turns will eventually come back to him, right?” 

“Be patient, baby,” Blair answered for Madix. “He’s probably just nervous. Eat more nachos while we wait.” 

Madix sighed and leaned back in his chair, trying to see down the hallway that led to the bathroom. He was beginning to think that he chose an overly-stimulant place for their date. Riley had confessed to him that meeting new people was difficult for him, and here there was a whole other level to the socializing. No wonder his date kept taking breaks. Even Madix found the sounds of other people playing games distracting. The lights were too bright and the rules to every new game were complicated.  

“I should have picked a quieter place for him to meet you guys,” Madix said sadly. “I really want him to like you both.” 

Dakota nodded. “It’ll get easier. I’ll try to shut up more.”

“If he even wants to do this again,” Madix mused. 

Finally, Riley returned to the table. He ambled unsteadily down the hall, keeping his arms crossed over his body. Madix’s face lit up with a big smile as he pushed Riley’s chair out for him. That smile slowly fizzled away when Riley remained standing. 

Riley ran a shaky hand through his hair and spoke with a faint voice. “Madix, can I talk to you alone for a sec, please?” 

The boy was on his feet before Riley could finish the sentence. The two of them stood alone in the corner of the room. Madix lightly touched his arm, waiting for Riley to speak, dreading what he would say. 

“I think I’m gonna go home now.”

Madix tried to keep his expression neutral, as much as he wanted to pout and beg with Riley to stay. “…Okay, if that’s what you want. I’m sorry if this place is a bit much. It’s very busy, isn’t it?” He wanted to hug Riley and take his saddened look away. “And I’m sorry for touching your leg like that earlier. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” 

“Oh gosh, no. It’s not you,” Riley said pleadingly. Fuck, this is not what he wanted. He couldn’t let Madix think the date made him uncomfortable. But the only other option would be to admit how he felt.

“My friends really like you, I promise,” Madix rambled on. “Dakota is just an ADHD mess who never knows when to be quiet. He doesn’t realize he’s doing it. And Blair said she wants to be your best friend.” 

“Madix, it’s not you or your friends or this place.” Riley grabbed his arms to keep him from saying anything else. It was nice to lean on someone. Suddenly the fatigue, nausea, and dehydration slammed into him all at once. He swayed forward. “To be honest, I’m not feeling so hot.” 

“What?” Madix became aware of the weight he was supporting. He watched Riley’s eyelids droop, and his shoulders relax as the truth came out. Now that he knew what to look for, it was easy to see the signs in Riley’s baggy eyes, ashen skin, and sweaty palms. It explained his absence for most of the date. 

Riley let out a heavy exhale. Madix’s face softened as he began to understand. He might as well try a little exposure therapy and tell Madix the rest. “Something in my stomach isn’t sitting so well.”

“Did you throw up?” A realization dawned in Madix’s eyes. “Shit, you have that phobia thing, don’t you? What can I do? Maybe you should sit down.” 

“N-no, I’m okay for now. The fear is mainly towards other people. Like the sounds and stuff.” Riley shuffled his feet awkwardly on the floor, feeling his neck grow warm. “I haven’t thrown up. It hasn’t exactly hit my stomach yet, just um…other areas.” 

“Oh?” Madix cocked his head to the side, waiting for his brain to catch up. “Oh, right. Jeez, I’m sorry. That’s—that’s not fun.” 

Riley shook his head. Nothing about this was fun…okay except maybe Madix’s undivided attention, his strong grip on his arms, and the gentle way he spoke. Still, he didn’t want Madix to be around when the next wave hit. He didn’t want to be here at all. “So, I need to go home.” 

“Of course, yeah. I’ll order a ride.” He looked back at their table. “I’ll make up some excuse for why you have to leave. Can I wait with you outside?” 

“Sure.” 

The curb was cold on their butts, but it was better than standing. Their knees knocked together. Madix wrapped an arm around his date, trying to keep him warm. Occasionally, Riley moaned and leaned his face into Madix’s shoulder. 

“I got you. Everything good still?” 

The gurgling was back, this time causing Riley’s stomach to roil. His actual stomach. The organ ached beneath his hand. He couldn’t decide if that was better or worse than before. Nausea climbed higher up his throat, filling his mouth with saliva that he spat on the concrete. 

“I think I need to be sick,” Riley said, wiping his mouth. He opened his legs further to lean his head down into.

“Do you want me to leave?” An excellent question that Riley didn’t know the answer to. He liked the warmth pressed into his side. He liked the feeling of Madix’s hand rubbing his back. Without a reply, Madix continued by saying, “I don’t mind staying. You won’t gross me out.” 

A thick belch erupted from Riley’s mouth. He let his mouth hang open for saliva to trickle between his legs. “Ugh, please stay. I feel awful.” 

“I know, love, I know.” Madix rubbed big circles on the boy’s back. He vaguely wondered if Riley was going to overthink the term of endearment. All he knew was that his mom called everyone that, and it seemed to bring them comfort. It certainly brought Madix comfort when he’d been upset or sick.

Riley gagged over the puddle of saliva. The empty heaves rolled his shoulders forward with a harsh retch. He breathed heavily, hoping the vertigo would lessen before he actually started to vomit. His vision was obscured with black shadows at the edges. Madix remained sturdy, allowing Riley to anchor himself to him. 

A few hiccups and burps later, Riley brought up a watery wave of sick. Each successive belch became thicker until the full contents of his stomach were splattered on the ground. He felt disgusting. The view at his feet was sickening. But there is no point in describing it because none of it deterred Madix from staying by Riley’s side. 

After a lull in the vomiting, Madix squeezed his shoulder. “Do you feel better?” 

Riley sniffled. “A little. Thanks for keeping me company. I’ve never allowed a date to see me like this.” 

Madix placed his palm on his chest. “Well, I’m honoured.”

[that-horny-sideblog]

me before i realized i have this kink: man i keep accidentally putting my ocs in situations where they're sick/throwing up/passing out. i wish i could write normal shit without derailing the plot to make everyone sick all the time

me now that i've discovered porn: okay blorbo it's designated porn time. you're going to throw up now

the blorbo: actually... i think i will go on a long diatribe about my religious angst

[sickly-qt]

Remy's Turn

Wow, look at that. It seems Remy has caught the bug... Different caretaker this time around. This isn't my best work and I didn't proofread this but I hope you all enjoy nonetheless.

~~

“Are you okay?” Finn asked, standing in the doorway of Remy’s office, his hands in his pockets.

Remy lifted his head from where it was laying on his desk. 

“No. What’s up?” He leaned back in his chair.

“The quarterly meeting is in a couple minutes.” Finn took his hand out of his pocket and gestured toward the conference room. “Uh, sorry. Did you say no, you weren’t okay?”

Remy pushed himself up from his desk, smoothing out his shirt and taking a breath as he tried to will his nausea to subside long enough to make it through this meeting. 

“Yeah, I feel awful. I caught whatever hell virus has been taking out everyone in my house one by one.” Remy took another breath and ran his hand through his hair. “Is everything okay with you by the way? You weren’t in on Tuesday.”

Finn shifted on his feet and put his hands back in his pockets, “Oh yeah, uh, Drew was in the hospital Monday night… We didn't get home until late and I wanted to make sure she was alright so I stayed home Tuesday. I know the timing wasn’t convenient with the quarterly stuff coming up but I just-”

“Don’t worry about it. I have 2 kids, I know family comes first. Drew’s okay though?”

“Yeah, Drew’s fine.” Finn ran his hand through his hair, “Everything’s okay.”

“That’s good, now let’s get this meeting out of the way so I can go home.”

Finn kept an eye on Remy as he talked through his presentation, swallowing hard at the end of his sentences. He put up a good front, Finn probably wouldn’t have even noticed the signs that he was sick if he hadn’t spoken to him before the meeting.

By the time Remy was finished with his part of the presentation, he felt horrible. His stomach was in knots and he was freezing, but there was sweat dripping down his back. Finn gave him a look when he sat back down and Remy ignored it, sitting back in his chair and taking a deep breath. The hard part was over, now he just had to sit and make it through the rest of the meeting. 

Finn was up, giving his presentation with his team when he noticed Remy quietly get up and leave the conference room. 

There was only about 15 minutes left in the meeting and no one else seemed to notice him leave with the back of his hand pressed to his mouth. 

By the end of the meeting Remy hadn’t returned, leaving a different partner to wrap up. When Finn finally left the conference room he swung by Remy’s office to find it empty. Next he went into the bathroom that was between the conference room and Remy’s office thinking that was the next most likely place to find him. 

“Remy? Are you in here?” He called quietly. He walked further into the bathroom and noticed that one out of the two stalls were closed. Finn grimaced as he heard a grating retch and the unmistakable sound of vomit splattering into the toilet. He sighed and knocked lightly on the stall door.

“You okay?” He waited a beat, and when he got no response other than a couple more productive heaves and some rough coughs he continued. “Can I get you anything? Water? Should I call Mila?”

There was still no response, but then the toilet flushed and the stall opened. Remy was pale and clammy and his dress shirt was sticking to him. 

“I’m alright.” He said unconvincingly, walking over to the sink and rinsing his mouth out before splashing water on his face.

“No offense or anything, but you look like you can barely stay on two feet.”

“Yeah, I have to go home.” Remy mumbled, closing his eyes and leaning heavily on the bathroom sink.

“Do you want me to call Mila to come get you? I can’t in good conscience let you drive home like this…”

Remy shook his head, “She’s still coming back from this… thing.” He gestured toward his stomach and then muffled a burp into his fist. “She probably went back to bed after taking Lee to school.”

“Then I’ll drive you home, you can’t drive yourself and you sure as hell can’t stay here.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.” 

“You’re not asking, I’m offering… well more like telling.”

Remy sighed, but eventually agreed to let Finn take him home. He returned briefly to his office to collect his things and shut everything down before telling his secretary to cancel everything for the rest of the day, and tomorrow as well. 

Finn was waiting for him down in the lobby, by the time Remy stepped out of the elevator his nausea was back in full force. Expelling a significant amount of his stomach contents, not offering him long lasting relief. 

“You’re not looking too hot.” Finn said as they walked out of the building. 

“Can we please not talk about it?”

They walked to Finn’s car in silence, stopping once on the way for Remy to projectile vomit into the gutter. 

“Alright, get it all out before you get into my car.” Finn said, patting Remy gently on the back and smiling awkwardly at the passerby. 

“I feel like now’s a great time to mention that I get wildly motion sick.” Remy said hoarsely. 

“Yeah, great.” 

Remy walked into his house and kicked off his shoes at the front door, shedding his tie and unbuttoning his shirt on his way upstairs. Mila was exactly where he thought she would be, tucked in bed, sleeping off the remains of her bug. He stripped his dress shirt and pants, changing into a clean t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants before collapsing into bed next to Mila.

“Mm, Remy? What are you doing home?” She said sleepily, rolling over to face him.

“Sick,” He mumbled. “I puked at work, Finn brought me home.

“I’m sorry, Love. Do you need anything?”

“Sleep.”

Right when Remy closed his eyes, his phone started ringing. He grabbed it off the table and answered it without looking at the caller ID.

“Hello? Remington Paxton.” 

“Hi, Mr. Paxton. This is the school nurse. Leah appears to have come down with the bug going around, she got sick after lunch. Could you come pick her up?”

His eyes opened and he sat up, “Uh, yeah. I’ll be right there.”

He hung up and fell back into his pillows, sighing heavily and pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, “Fuck.”

“Everything okay?” Mila asked, lifting her head.

“I’m going to need to borrow your car.”

[boysbellyrubs]

Harry's Illness

I'm deep into assignments and the looming exam season, but here is this fic. Bit short, but sweet :)

---

A sick feeling rested in the centre of Harry’s stomach. It gurgled and growled like a swamp, making him hyper aware of everyone else in the room at the moment. He turned to face the white board, staring at the interconnecting strings and photos of their latest case. They had been working on it for more than a week with absolutely no leads, no suspects, and one detective coming down with a gnarly stomach bug. Harry felt his back twitch as a cramp squeezed his middle, more fiery noises coming from inside. 

The board provided no cover for the noise, but it did allow him to subtly push on his bloated middle, desperately trying to get it to shut up. 

“Hey, Lawrence, does staring blankly help or are you going to help?” One of the other detectives spoke behind him, tense words spitting out of his lips. He couldn’t remember his name for the life of him. 

He turned then, fixing his gaze on the man shuffling through some papers. “Sorry, just not in the mood to look through 500 prison records.” The man scoffed at him but turned back to his work. Harry looked out of the squad room door, watching as Jack approached with a fresh mug of coffee. 

“It’s 6pm.” Harry said lightly. 

Jack shrugged, gulping down a mouthful. “I’m useless if I get tired, these two know.” Jack had worked with the other detectives, but Harry hadn’t met them until that morning. So far, he was only partial to liking Detective Watson. 

“Zombie Woods not making an appearance?” She said, smiling as Jack came to steal a few papers from her. 

He huffed, “Not today. Found anything useful?” He directed the question at Harry, and that was the moment where his stomach decided to announce its distress the loudest. He physically felt his cheeks pale and his knees buckle, the cramp ripping right through him. “Jesus. Hungry?” Jack continued, eyes glued to Harry’s stomach. 

The other shook his head, moving back to the board. He opted to just ignore it along with the wobbly edges to his vision and nausea crawling up to his chest. He felt the others give him looks behind his back, but he couldn’t care less. It was important for him to not fuck this up, he couldn’t destroy his first big case around his older coworkers. Especially in front of Mr Prison Records. God, what was his name? 

“Anyway, I got word from one of my possible witnesses that she usually saw our guy doing his service around the shopping mall near the City Centre. Probably some other witnesses around there.” Jack said to Watson. She responded quietly, or Harry just lost the ability to hear. 

All he heard was the oncoming tidal wave of nausea that was rapidly approaching his throat. He swallowed thickly, an uncomfortable grimace on his face. His stomach was aching and cramping like no other, echoey gurgles bubbling up and out. He knew if he didn’t get out of here quickly he was going to puke all over the floor, ruining the carpet and his reputation. Harry felt himself gulp again, spit gathering faster than he could manage.

Without any warning, he left the room at lightning speed. He walked on unsteady ground, feeling seconds away from tripping, as he made his way to the bathroom. It was the longest walk of his life. 

Bursting into the room, he bolted to the nearest stall and doubled over. Hot, thick vomit poured out of his mouth, the gurgling now residing at the base of his throat. It hurt terribly, both his stomach and his throat. Harry stabilised himself on the wall, palm flat against the plastic, and groaned through a dizzy spell. He felt the urge to vomit again and quickly dropped to his knees, bracing his hands on his legs. The next round was watery but burned worse and it made his eyes squeeze shut. 

Harry groaned, rubbing a useless hand over his tumultuous upper belly. The cramping powered through his touch. “Fuck..” He mumbled, then spat out bile and saliva. The smell was vile. It filled his nostrils and sparked another hearty gag, causing him to cough and choke as nothing came up. With his eyes closed, he fumbled around for the toilet paper, quickly gathering some up to wipe up the mess on his face. The unexpected force had caused tears to leak from his eyes and his nose to run. 

He was a pitiful sight, especially kneeling on the dirty ground. Harry flushed the toilet. He couldn’t take the smell anymore. He just sat down on his butt, leaning against the door as he tried to calm himself. His stomach felt like it was never going to settle. Harry imagined his breakfast and lunch fist fighting inside the organ, swimming around in his stomach acid. The image made him gag. 

Going back into the squad room was going to be a disaster. He didn’t even know if he would be able to pull off being healthy, not with the way his hair stuck to his forehead and his shaky breath and hands, they would immediately suspect something was wrong. Not to mention the disastrous stomach gurgle that everyone had heard. He was done for. 

As if further agreeing with his point, his stomach fired up again. A strong cramp hit his middle alongside another sickly grumble. “Ooh, god.” He moaned, sitting up to lean over the toilet again. Harry wrapped his arms around himself, letting his mouth hang open as saliva dribbled out, jaw aching. Food splashed against his oesophagus and he was vomiting once again. It made his back curl. 

He continued to spew up his insides for the next ten minutes, occasionally interrupted by a random officer asking if he was okay. It was humiliating. Harry breathed deeply through his nose, eyes closed and head resting back on the door. His hands were slowly rubbing along his belly, desperately soothing it and forcing it to stay down. So far, it was actually working. Harry had always been one for physical touch when it came to sickness, so a little belly rub was doing him wonders. 

But, he needed to get up. He was starting to shiver and his ass was hurting from being on the ground for so long. Jack and the others were probably wondering where he was anyway, if they hadn’t already left. Picking himself up was more difficult than he anticipated. His fever was raging, making him dizzy with every movement. 

As he pushed open the door, Jack’s face was the first thing he saw. 

“There you are. You look like shit,” He really needed to work on his bluntness. “Are you sick?” He pushed himself off the wall, arms folded as he peered into Harry’s glossy eyes. 

Harry knew he shouldn’t lie. “Um.” Good job. 

“I see,” Jack nodded, laughing a little, “Right, let’s get you home, rookie. Stomach bug? Think there’s one going around.” He put his hand on Harry’s burning shoulder, steering him back down towards the main room. He didn’t give Jack an answer, embarrassment overtaking his rational mind. 

They walked past the squad room, Harry glancing inside. Watson and the asshole were still in there but they looked off task. 

“They’re really useless. I’m going to miss you over the next week.” Jack spoke quietly into Harry’s ear. His words made Harry feel slightly better. 

“Sorry.”��

They approached their desks, Jack collecting up both of their things. He handed Harry his jacket, waving his car keys up to his face. “I’ll drive. And, don’t say sorry, can’t help getting sick. Just wish it wasn’t right now.” He chuckled a little to soften his words. It was a long walk to Jack’s car, but Harry was grateful to finally sit down somewhere soft. His stomach had begun to hurt while they were walking, so he sank down a bit and held his middle. 

Jack fumbled around in the back for a bit, then got into the driver's seat while chucking a plastic bag onto Harry’s lap. “Use that if you need to be sick.” The car engine revved, Jack immediately pulling out of the spot. Harry was grateful for his partner knowing exactly what he needed. Perks of being detectives. 

Harry kept his eyes closed as the streetlights flashed by. The movement mixed with the flashing was creating a nasty storm of nausea and sickness in his belly. It was a battle, but Harry managed to not puke at all on the way home. 

“Do you need help getting inside?” Jack said, expression blank. 

“Why are you so good at this?” His fever-addled mind made him speak the first thing that came to mind. 

Jack laughed at him, “Younger siblings. Do you need help?” He pushed. 

With his head and stomach spinning the way it was, Harry did. He nodded slightly, unbuckling his seatbelt to plant his feet onto the footpath. Jack’s hand held his forearm, gently pulling him up to standing. 

The entire walk to the door, Jack had his hand strongly planted on Harry’s back, guiding him. Jack probably didn’t realise how much Harry appreciated it, something as simple as a hand pushing him forward calmed his sick mind. 

Being inside was luxury. Harry instantly collapsed onto his couch, hugging the bag to his middle. Jack stood a little awkwardly in the living room after turning on some lights. His eyes wandered around the decorations and eventually he walked over to draw the curtains shut. 

“Okay, you think you’ll be alright? I can come around tomorrow with your car and some supplies.” Jack’s voice gave away his concern. Harry felt himself smiling at the fact that Jack was letting his walls down around him a bit more. 

“Yup.” He spoke quietly, exhaustion now his leading symptom. The room fell silent. Harry could feel his muscles unwinding, his stomach finally letting him rest and he shut his eyes. 

Jack’s footsteps walked away. They stopped. “Get some rest, kid. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

[xykcta]

first I like this silly template from old game about small human in monster world, second I like to show difference between my characters

[xheykyjx]

“I’on’feel good,” Nadia says thickly, slurring through the nausea gripping her from sternum to mouth. Frankie palms at the back of her head, right above her neck, gently pushing her forward over the trashcan.

“I know, baby,” Frankie murmurs anxiously. Their free hand hovers over Nadia’s belly like a hummingbird over a flower, quivering with a strange kind of anticipation. Nadia hiccups, belches out a long string of saliva that dangles stubbornly from her lower lip. She sways minutely from side to side, eyes squeezed shut as her body cruelly edges her toward some sort of relief from the all-encompassing wave pool inside of her.

“Goooood, I hate this,” she moans, and Frankie watches her hands curl into fists atop her thighs. “I’m—” She twitches and moans again, wordlessly, hunching further over. Without meaning to, Frankie’s hand is brushing her soft belly, a layer of fat over strong muscle. Nadia belches again, a tight, gurgling thing that bursts up from her throat. Her back muscles tighten, breath hitching once, twice, three times in a row, quick and compulsive.

“Oh, god,” she breathes, hunched and rocking pitifully over the trash can. “Oh, my god, ‘m—I’m—” She hiccups again, and her throat constricts around a tiny, wet gag. “Oh, g—” The next heave is larger, more guttural; has her coughing over the trash. A blob of thick, cloudy saliva plops heavily against the plastic liner.

[tummysick]

Because we desperately need wlw sickfics, I wrote one. Here's Part 2: Liz

Liz’s roommates had decided to throw a party to kick off their sophomore year. Having it in their space, and therefore being on cleanup duty, sounded annoying, but as a social butterfly, she didn't take too much convincing. Liz didn't love drinking. She wasn't big on the taste and as someone who was both emetophobic and secretly emetophilic, drinking was complicated for her. Her strategy so far in college had involved bolting as soon as anyone looked the slightest bit queasy and hardly drinking anything herself to stay out of danger. The next day, however, she would want all the details.

Liz knew her emetophilia could exist in the real world. Her senior year, Liz had a massive crush on a girl, and when they went on an end-of-year field trip to the mountains, her crush got motion sick. Liz remembered watching the color drain from her crush’s face and the way her body trembled. Liz had offered her her hand, and at every turn, she'd clenched Liz's hand and swallowed hard. When they’d finally gotten to the mountains, she'd tugged Liz’s hand, whispering “please,” and pulled her around to the back of the entrance building, where she finally emptied her upset stomach. Liz rubbed her back and thought, okay, there's no denying things now as each heave made her throb between her legs. But it had been years and beyond some late-night fantasies college had placed her phobia front and center. 

Liz noticed the pretty blond girl in the denim jacket the second she walked into the living room. She looked a bit awkward and out of place, but she was absolutely stunning. The girl turned, scanning the room, and Liz caught sight of her pride pin. Her heart skipped a beat. Liz was thinking about how to casually initiate conversation when she noticed the girl looked a bit off. The girl looked disoriented and… sick. Usually, this would be where Liz would bolt, but when she saw how the girl stood, stumbling forward, and crumpled to the floor with a terrified look, Liz froze. Maybe pretty girls override the phobia? Damn, this girl was definitely going to get sick, and Liz needed to get her out of there, but just as she took a step towards her, the girl began to vomit. The powerful torrents of liquid splashed back onto the girl's hands and shirt. Liz liked caretaking but not the actual substance. Her stomach did a flip. People were filing out of the room, and some asshole made a rude comment. Come on, Liz, she needs you. Liz winced, swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and moved to crouch beside the girl.  “Hey, hey. I got you. Come here.” She helped her stand, but immediately the girl slumped into Liz’s arms, dizzy. Okay, and this is why we do push-ups.

Liz gathered the girl into her arms and carried her to the bathroom at the end of the hall. The girl was sobbing. Liz felt her tears and shuddering breath wet against her neck as she carried the girl into the bathroom, where she set her down, leaning against the bathroom wall, trying with all her might to be as smooth and gentle as possible. I need to check how coherent she is. Liz had spent a night googling alcohol poisoning her freshman year, and before anything else, she needed to assess if this was a 911 situation. “Hey, look at me.” She cupped the girl's face, tilting it up and locking eyes with the crying girl. Her eyes were bright blue and bloodshot from the crying and strain of being sick, but they focused on Liz just fine with a mix of fear, desperation, and confusion. Wow she is SO pretty. “Good, you're doing amazing. Can you talk?”

“I---I’m so embarrassed!!” she sobbed.

Although parts of the girl’s story about how she'd come with a friend and felt nervous about being a freshman, and had too much to drink were lost, it was only because of how heavily she was sobbing; her speech wasn't slurred, and she seemed alert. “Oh honey, hey hey. You're okay. It's going to be okay.” Okay, where are these pet names coming from?? “Do you need a hug?”

The pretty blond girl just about threw herself into Liz’s arms, clutching a fistful of Liz’s t-shirt as she sobbed into Liz’s chest.

“Ohh buddyyyy. Shhh, it's okay. I know. It's no fun. You're gonna be alright. I'm right here”

Suddenly, the girl stiffened, and her breath became short and rapid. Oh no.

“Hey, are you feeling--”

“I think I'm gonna be sick again”

She recoiled from Liz’s arms, launching herself towards the toilet.

"I don't want to be sick again. I can't do it. It hurts so bad. You should go. This is disgusting”

“I'm not going anywhere and you are not disgusting. Shhh. Hey, try to breathe. It's gonna be okay. I'm right here. Can I touch your back?”

“Please. Please, I'm so scared. I'm so scared. I can't. Not more. No. Oh, please, no. No no no”

“I'm right here. Can you try to take a deep breath for me?”

The girl took one slow, shuddering breath. Some tension left her shoulders as she melted into Liz’s hand. 

“There you go. You're doing so good”

Maybe she can breathe through this. As soon as the thought crossed her mind Liz saw the girl blanch and flinch in discomfort. Okay never mind yep this is happening. 

“I can't, I can't, I'm gonna be---”

She gagged hard, unproductively, gasped for air, and then projectile vomited. The next several minutes were spent with Liz rubbing her back and cooing comfort as the girl vomited again and again. Each bout racked her body and barely gave her time for a single breath before her body spewed forth more bright red liquid into the toilet. Her puking was so forceful; with each wave, she released a deep guttural hurling sound as her stomach attempted to ring out every last drop of the offensive liquid. She was completely at the mercy of her body. After her stomach was empty, she continued to dry heave—retching, gagging, coughing, and sobbing until abruptly she’d be thrown forward by another brutal heave that would at best bring up only a mouthful of bile. Finally, the dry heaves let up, and with one last weak gag, she spat into the toilet and pulled back, completely exhausted. Without thinking, Liz pulled her into her arms. 

The girl moaned.

“I know. That must've really hurt.”

“Oh my god, it hurt so bad. It still hurts so bad. My stomach. My stomach…” she whimpered

“Do you think having my hand on it would help?”

“Scared,” she whined

“No, sorry! That's okay! I don't want to hurt you.”

The girl looked into her eyes and, without breaking eye contact, gently guided Liz’s hand under her shirt to cup what had to be the softest, sweetest stomach in the world. The girl let out a soft “mmm” before her eyes fluttered closed. Almost immediately, she drifted off. Liz leaned against the wall, cradling the sleeping girl, feeling her gurgling, churning stomach gradually calm beneath her hand. Slowly, she, too, drifted off to sleep.

[angstyaches]

Autumn's First Sickfic Part Two

Alrighty, this is a little all-over-the-place, but it's done! It was so fun to write Payton as caretaker for a change.

Read Part One Here

CW: emeto, fever, confusion, sickness, insecurity, familial issues, jealousy, awkwardness, undressing (maybe vaguely n**w?), stomach noises, belly rubs, brief indirect mention of Lucy's emetophobia.

Word Count: 5,000+

___

Payton slipped their phone halfway from the pocket of their apron, pursing their lips when they saw it was a call from Autumn. It wrung their heart slightly to let it ring out, but they had to let their phone drop away again so that they could serve the two customers waiting in line. 

When their phone began buzzing a second time, though, they started to feel an itch of worry in their gut. 

“Paul,” they said, snagging the attention of their coworker who had previously been wiping down tables. “Could you be on the till for a few minutes?” 

“Absolutely, boss.” 

Payton threw Jake – who was on drinks – an apologetic smile. “Bathroom break,” they said quietly, waiting to get the nod from him, before ducking out the back of the shop and into the staff changing room.  

“Hello, baby, are you okay?” they said softly as they answered, in case Autumn was still half-asleep and calling them. 

“Payton, hey. This is Leigh. Autumn’s friend.” 

Payton’s stomach dropped. What? 

“So, Autumn’s really sick, and she keeps asking for you. Is there any way you could come by the student centre and pick her up?” 

“What do you mean? Autumn stayed home today,” Payton said, even though it was evident by the fact that her college friend was calling from her phone that she very much hadn’t stayed home today. 

Leigh hummed. “Nope. She’s in the bathroom next to the student theatre. Throwing up, crying –” 

“Crying?” Payton found that they were clutching the front of their apron, nails sinking into the fabric. 

“Yeah.” Leigh sounded as surprised as Payton felt. Anyone who knew Autumn knew that she rarely cried. “I think she’s got a fever or something. So, can you come and get her?” 

“I-I’m at work,” Payton breathed, feeling on the verge of tears themself. “Can you… Could you call her mother? Maybe she can –” 

“I, uh –” It sounded as though Leigh had puffed out her cheeks and exhaled roughly. “I’ve suggested that, and it made her even more upset, and that’s why I’m calling you. Can you get here?” 

Payton stepped frantically to the other side of the dressing room, turned around, made their way back to where they’d started. Their lungs felt shrivelled and achy in their chest. 

Couldn’t leave work without letting the shop down. 

Couldn’t help Autumn without leaving work. 

Couldn’t leave work without – 

“Everything okay?” 

Payton swung around, almost dropping their phone in when they realised Jake was standing behind them.  

Their knees felt like jelly at being caught on the phone by a workplace superior – it barely even occurred to them then that they were practically on the same tier as Jake nowadays, in everything but job title and wage, and that they really shouldn’t have felt quite so much like a child sneaking sweets before dinner. 

“S-sorry. Sorry, Jake, um… Autumn’s pretty sick at college, sh-she’s feverish and throwing up and she’s asking for me…” 

“Go, then.” 

“What?” they breathed. 

Jake shrugged. “I’ll stay and close. You can close for me on Friday instead.” 

Go, you idiot, Payton tried to tell themself, take the opportunity, accept the kindness. But their brain seemed intent on fighting them at every possible turn.  

“Annie would kill me,” they choked out. 

“For delegating a task that you were no longer able to fill yourself?” Jake gave another shrug. “Sounds like good management to me.” 

“But… you booked this evening off.” 

Jake’s shoulders went up towards his ears again, this time pulling a little tighter to his neck. “To sit at home by myself and watch the season premier of a TV show. It’ll still be there for me to watch, whether I make it home by seven or by midnight.” 

“But –” 

“Payton,” Jake half-laughed. “Stop arguing, and go get your girl.” 

Payton nodded, then realised with a start that they had lowered their phone all the way to their waist. They pressed it to their ear whilst also pulling open their locker to liberate their hoodie. “Leigh? Are you still there?” 

“I am.” 

Payton started tugging their apron off over their head. “I’ll be there in twenty-six minutes.” 

“That’s weirdly specific,” Leigh said, “but okay.” 

___ 

Autumn wasn’t sure how long she spent by the toilet before she was guided away. She didn’t even remember who had brought her here, to the plush, lime green sofas that were dotted around the common area of the student centre, whether it was Dixon or Leigh or both. When she rose from the feverish haze in order to wrinkle up her nose at the stench of bad coffee from the open-plan café and the sporadic noise of groups of students going about their day, she realised that she had her head on Dixon’s shoulder.  

Her first thought was that she’d better not have drooled on his t-shirt; he’d had enough of her bodily fluids ruining his belongings for one day. The thought alone made her breath hitch, and she pulled away from him, covering her face with her hands to disguise a sob or a retch or both. 

“Oh – you okay?” 

There was the sound of a plastic bag being unfolded, and Autumn opened her eyes to see said plastic bag being held out under her face. 

“I-I’m okay for now,” she stammered, but she reached out and took the plastic bag from Leigh’s hands anyway. She gingerly tucked it right-side-up between her knees for quick access.  

“How long have you had that bag ready?” Dixon asked. 

Leigh laughed. “Since before we left the bathroom.” 

“You’re brilliant. I mean, that was a... brilliant idea.” 

A brief flash of self-consciousness made Autumn very aware of the fact that Dixon and Leigh were sitting at either side of her, and being stuck between the pair of them felt profoundly uncomfortable. She rubbed at her forehead, still in complete disbelief that she was this sick, this publicly. She considered these people to be her friends, sure, but they didn’t need to see her like this. They certainly didn’t need her eating into their time. 

“Oh, look,” Dixon whispered, nudging her gently. “Look who it is.” 

Autumn gave a dazed groan as she lifted her head. 

“Huh,” Leigh said. “Twenty-six minutes.” 

For a second, surprise chased out the headiness of Autumn’s fever. She almost tried to stand up to give Payton a hug in greeting. Instead, she floundered weakly in her seat, jaw falling slack, scalding eyes following their steps until they arrived right in front of her. They were in a black polo shirt and cargo pants, their hair still clipped back from their face like it always was during their shifts. A light sheen of sweat made their forehead glitter in the gaudy, excessive lighting, but Autumn reckoned they still looked a damn sight more attractive than she did. 

“Hey, baby,” they smiled, crouching down in front of her. “You’re supposed to be at home, in bed.” 

She almost literally dropped her jaw. Her mind felt like a swamp, where her thoughts couldn’t get through fast enough. “You’re... at work.” 

“Well, no, I’m not, I’m here. I was able to get Jake to cover for me.” Payton’s big, shiny eyes blinked and their creased brows pulled even closer together, as if something unsettling were unfolding before them. They grabbed hold of her leg. “What, baby, what is it?” 

Autumn lifted a wrist to her cheek, and it came away wet. Jeez, when had she started crying again? She could feel her face crumple, her lips pulling back in a grimace. “I – you’re just – you’re too good, P. Too good to me...” 

“Here, man, sit,” Dixon said softly, getting up from where he’d been sitting and gesturing for Payton to replace him. “I’m Dixon, by the way.” 

“Leigh,” Leigh added. 

Autumn sank into Payton’s torso as they sat, desperate for their warm, familiar smell. The buttons running down their chest weren’t the comfiest to snuggle into, but it was still them that she was embracing. It just seemed like a miracle that they were here at all. 

“Thank you,” they were saying to Autumn’s classmates, “for keeping an eye on her, and for calling me.” 

“Yeah, no problem. Autumn is... an absolute angel,” Leigh was saying. “Least we can do.” 

“You take care of her, alright?” Dixon’s voice was a little unsure of itself, but it sounded vaguely protective. Autumn had a feeling Leigh would tease him about it later. 

“I’ve got this.” Payton’s voice vibrated in their chest against Autumn’s cheek. “Thank – thank you.” 

Autumn opened her eyes as the couch squeaked, the cushions shifting with the absence of Leigh’s weight. Both she and Dixon eyed her warily as they started walking away, and Autumn offered a weak, grateful smile.  

As soon as they both disappeared around the corner, heading towards the library, Autumn felt Payton slide a hand up under her bangs. An anxious sound hummed in their chest. 

“You’re burning up, baby." 

“Sorry,” Autumn rasped. “I’m s-sorry.” 

“Sorry?” Payton leaned forward a little, touching their forehead to the top of her head the best they could. They massaged their fingers into the nape of her neck. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about, baby. Nothing at all. Let’s just get you home, okay?” 

“Home?”  

Payton let out a nervous laugh. “Well, yeah. What did you think was going to happen?” 

“I-I was going to go to the library once I caught my breath,” Autumn said, easing herself up from Payton’s chest. Colour and sound washed in and out of her senses, but above it all was an overarching sense of dread. “And... and I have work from seven until midnight.” 

Payton licked their lips. They looked so... lost. “Baby,” they pleaded, “you’re so sick. You can’t get on a bike like this. Look at you, you’re burning up and you’re trembling...” They curled their lower lip in sympathy, giving her arms a useless rub. “Just like a little leaf.” 

Autumn let out an involuntary whimper. 

“You poor thing.” Payton sounded close to tears. “I really wish you’d stayed home and taken it easy today.” 

“Couldn’t,” Autumn whispered, overwhelmed by the frustration bubbling in her unwell stomach. She gave the plastic bag in her hand a squeeze, reassuring herself that she still had a grip on it between her knees. 

“Hmm?” 

“Couldn’t stay home.” 

Payton placed their hands on the outsides of her arms again, head tilted to one side. “Why not, baby?” 

“Why do you think?”  

___ 

Payton pulled their hands back, almost recoiling right off the sofa. Coming from the girl who said sarcasm was the lowest form of wit, and believed spite gave you wrinkles, a rhetorical question spat with just a hint of venom was as bad – as shocking – as hearing her insult Payton’s entire family. 

And the worst part was that it sounded like she expected them to know the reason, and they hadn’t the faintest idea what that could be. Was this their failure? Their heart was sinking as though it was.  

They opened their mouth, tried for a what do you mean? but nothing came out.  

But then Autumn opened her mouth, and something came out. 

Before the spike of panic could prompt Payton to do anything useful, she had produced a plastic shopping bag from... somewhere. She yanked open the top of the bag and leaned so far over it that her nose and cheekbones were lost. And then she retched so hard that the sound of it was enough to give Payton goosebumps. 

“Oh, baby,” they sighed, shifting closer to her again. They felt bad for jumping back, especially when she needed them. 

Students making their way through the bright, airy building cast tentative looks in their direction, picking up their pace when they noticed Payton noticing them. They wished they could morph into a giant blanket to keep their girlfriend concealed from those prying, judging glances – 

“Sorry – sorry,” Autumn gushed frantically. She pulled one arm to her stomach, scrunching the top of the bag together with the other. A deep, dry sob clawed its way out of her. “I’m so sorry, Payton. My mother, I... I don’t want her to...” 

“What, baby?” Goosebumps prickled at Payton’s skin all over again.  

“I want to stay with you,” Autumn whispered shakily. “And I don’t... don’t want her to meet you like this. Please. Please.” 

Payton nodded, though they were far from sure about this. Autumn needed to rest and be taken care of. If they could just get her to a taxi, maybe they would get her to see that going home to her bed was the best idea. 

They eyed the bag in her fist; it didn’t seem as though she’d heaved much up into it, but if she’d been throwing up since before Leigh’s call, it wasn’t surprising that she was empty by now.  

“How’s your belly feeling now?” Payton asked, tilting their head so they could see her face. 

Autumn’s bottom lip seemed to tremble for a second before she caught hold of it with her teeth. Her hazel green eyes stared at nothing, eyelids half closed, jaw clenched tightly. She gave a vague nod. “Little better.” 

“Then let’s get out of here,” Payton said. 

___ 

She held their hand and followed them through the atrium, taking short, even steps. A couple of times, Payton considered wrapping an arm around her shoulders and keeping her close, but since this was Autumn’s territory, they didn’t want to overstep what she considered to be too much PDA. They stopped off at a bin to get rid of the sick bag, but thought better of throwing it away just yet, so instead, they clenched their free hand around the top of it and carried it by their hip. 

Payton waved to the first taxi they saw by the bus stop, and the driver lifted a hand in acknowledgement. When Payton opened the back seat door, though, and Autumn swayed on her feet as they go of each other, his gaze turned sour. 

“Hey!” 

Payton jumped, peering in at the taxi driver. 

The driver pointed a thumb at Autumn over his shoulder. His eyes were dark and accusing as they glared at Payton. “Is she drunk?” 

What? Payton straightened their back, prickling with defensiveness on Autumn’s behalf. They resisted the urge to state that it was three thirty in the afternoon, remembering that this was a college campus and that anything was possible there.  

Their muscles relaxed a little and they sank into an easy smile. “No, she’s not drunk. She’s just a little sick.” 

The driver looked far from impressed. “Is she going to spew everywhere?” 

“Nope! We’ve got a bag, and I promise I’ll keep an eye on her.” Payton could hear how weakly they were pitching this. They felt like shriveling up under that condescending gaze, but Autumn needed them. “P… Please help me get her home to her bed.” 

“No,” Autumn wept quietly from the opposite side of the back seat. She turned her glossy eyes and tear-stained cheeks towards them. 

“Alright, get in,” the driver sighed, turning around to face the steering wheel. 

Payton’s earlier resolve turned to putty under the look Autumn was giving them; she didn’t need puppy-dog eyes, for she had a face so full of trust and sincerity that they didn’t dare risk letting her down or diminishing themself in her eyes. 

They tried to twist their smile into something even more reassuring as they pulled the door closed behind themself. They reached across the seat for her hand and squeezed it.  

Then they gave the taxi driver the address for Lucy’s flat. 

___ 

“Thanks so much.” Payton hurriedly paid the taxi driver and hopped out without waiting for their change.  

They sprinted around to the other side of the car, where Autumn had alighted and promptly doubled over at the edge of the road, retching horrendously. Payton grabbed her by the shoulder and slid a hand up and down her back, and glanced up at their building, wondering if this had been a good idea after all. 

“Come on, baby, away from the traffic,” they said shakily, despite there being no other cars on the road currently. They held her elbows as they both stepped up onto the path and then onto the patch of grass in front of the building. Autumn let go of a long string of electric yellow sick. She had to spit loudly to get it to drop from her lips and onto the grass. 

Payton gave her a reassuring rub on the back. They had a horrible feeling she’d held that in the whole way from campus to here, afraid to upset the driver or risk making a mess. “Well done, baby, you made it.” 

“I don’t feel good,” she complained, pressing a hand to her chest as she straightened back up. She began to pick at the fabric of her dress as though it were suffocating her. “Really... really don’t feel good.” 

“I know. I’m gonna try to help you feel better,” Payton promised, offering her their hands. They felt a little unsteady themself, carrying their own shoulder bag and Autumn’s college backpack, but they didn’t see much other choice than to be the steady one. “Think we can tackle these stairs together?” 

Autumn’s eyes flicked upwards, and she loudly hiccupped, but she gave a weary nod and let Payton lead her along. 

___ 

Payton would have thought that the last thing they wanted to see as they opened the door would have been Donnacha in the front hallway. They hadn’t considered the possibility of Donnacha in the front hallway carrying a bowl of something greasy and pungent from the kitchen to his bedroom. 

He froze and took a double-glance as Payton hoisted Autumn through the door. She’d gotten dizzy on the stairs and had leaned more and more into them as they’d neared the top, and she was practically clinging to them like a monkey. 

“A?” Donnacha exclaimed. 

Either the sight or the smell of Donnacha’s dinner offended her, because she shrank even closer to Payton’s body, pressing her nose against the front of their shirt, and groaned miserably. 

“She’s sick,” Payton offered. 

Donnacha frowned in her direction. “Autumn? You okay?” 

She shook her head, though she didn’t meet Donnacha’s gaze. Out of all three of them, she was the one who usually played the mediator, but even her will to keep things friendly was dwindling in the face of this fever and nausea. 

It made Payton’s chest pang. 

“Why isn’t she at home?” Donnacha asked when Autumn ignored him. He noticed Payton’s gaze fall upon his bowl and took a couple of steps back, holding it to the side. 

Payton couldn’t help but realise that this was probably the first time Donnacha had asked them a direct question in months. Their heart thudded with anxiety. 

“I… I haven’t met her mother yet.” Payton shuffled their feet. It felt like a silly excuse, now that they were saying it out loud. How selfish it made them seem. After all, they were being selfish. “We thought it’d be awkward to make this the first time.” 

“Right,” Donnacha nodded. His expression had changed suddenly. Softened a bit, hardened again in a different way.  

“So, um... thought I'd take care of her here tonight,” Payton added. 

Donnacha nodded again. “Did she call Helen?” 

Payton gulped. They had actually never heard Autumn’s mother’s name spoken aloud before, and it felt weird to hear Donnacha mention it quite so casually. “I don’t think so. I-I guess I’ll call her –” 

“I’ll handle it,” Donnacha said. “If – if you want.” 

A tiny part of Payton burned with jealousy and indignation, but now was not the time to think about growing a backbone. “Really? That’d be great.” 

“Okay. Well.” Donnacha rubbed at the buzzed back of his head, glancing down the hallway as though planning his escape from the conversation. “She needs anything else, you know where I am.” 

“What’s happening?” came a new voice. 

Donnacha turned to the side. Henry had appeared at his bedroom door, pyjamas hanging on his gaunt frame, his hair disheveled. It was almost five in the evening, but he looked like he’d just been rudely awakened. 

“Autumn’s sick,” Donnacha said curtly, turning to walk towards his own room with his bowl, “so Payton’s having her stay the night to take care of her.” 

Henry grimaced, sucking air through his teeth. “Vomiting?” 

Payton swallowed. “Yes.” 

“Hmm. Lucy’s going to kill you.” Henry scratched his chest and yawned. “Well, goodnight.” 

A grimace pulled at Payton’s cheeks. “’Night, Hen.” 

Payton dropped Autumn off in their room and hurried to the kitchen to fill up a glass with water. When they returned, she was half-sprawled, half-curled up on their bed in a manner that she herself might have described as unladylike. They quickly shut their door again and placed the water on their bedside locker. 

“S-sorry, my sheets aren’t the freshest.” Payton scratched their head and glanced around, at a loss for what else to do – they couldn’t exactly pull the sheets from the bed now, since Autumn was already making herself at home on top of them. And it probably wouldn’t be helpful for Autumn’s nausea if they spritzed some fabric freshener about the place. “I didn’t know to expect company. Do you want a little sip of water –?” 

“Tight.” 

“What, baby?” 

“Tight,” she murmured, face twisting into a petulant scowl that seemed so far from her usual demeanor that Payton had to tilt their head slightly. Their eyes drifted down to her waist, where her fingers were plucking at the fabric of her dress... no, trying to pluck at something inside of it. 

“Are you saying tight, or tights?” Payton asked, eyeing the glossy beige sheen on her legs. They felt their face turn a little warm, and hoped she wouldn’t think they were just ogling her if she noticed their gaze. 

“Yeah.” 

“Oh. Your tights are too tight?” 

Autumn’s shoulders slumped forwards and she pressed her forehead the bed. 

“Baby, it’s okay!” Payton sat down at the edge of the mattress. “Want me to help you out of them?” 

She nodded without looking up. 

“You want to stand up so I can...?” Payton’s heart almost took a running jump up their throat and through their mouth when, instead of standing, Autumn rolled back across their bed, knees lifted, dress slipping back up towards her waist.  

She started fidgeting with the waistband of her tights again, groaning feebly when they still refused to relinquish their hold on her. Payton crawled over to her and gently eased their fingers under the elastic, coaxing it up from the soft curve of her belly and down towards her hips. 

“Can... can you lift –?” 

Before they even finished asking, Autumn tugged her hips upwards from the bed, leaving space for Payton to slide the offending tights down to her thighs. From there, it was easier to remove them, since the fabric was able to roll and bunch together into soft wads. Her soft skin was red and indented where the elastic had pressed into it all day, and Payton grimaced with sympathy. 

They remembered all too well what wearing tights was like; although Autumn wore them for the aesthetic and occasionally for warmth, while Payton only used to wear them under their school uniform skirt to cover up the fact that they didn’t shave their legs.  

As they pulled the nylon from her feet, Payton noticed Autumn sliding one hand across her bare stomach and working it in a circular motion, either oblivious to or uncaring about the fact that her underwear was on show. In the quiet of the room, her stomach could be heard clearly, churning and gurgling and squelching. 

Payton’s ears were on fire as they slid forward on the bed again, guiding her hand out of the way and placing theirs on her bloated middle. They’d rubbed her belly before, to help with period cramps – she'd done the same for them – but never with her dress pulled up like this. 

Even though they’d spent countless hours in bed together, cuddling and kissing and giggling, very little of that time had involved states of undress. Payton often wondered if this was purely for their sake, since they were comfiest in their boxers and with their chest covered, but they were always a little too nervous to ask if Autumn was looking for... more. 

Right now, Autumn groaned at their touch against her skin. She nuzzled into their neck with her nose, and they were hit by a gentle wave of her floral perfume. “Baby, my belly hurts,” she complained, as though they weren’t already tending to it. 

“I know.” They pressed a kiss to her clammy forehead. “My poor baby.” 

“Mmm. I’m not a poor baby, am I?” Autumn mumbled softly.  

“Yes, you are, you’re my poor little baby.” Payton grinned as Autumn squinted up at them in confusion. “Accept it.” 

“No.” 

“Ssshhh.” Payton surprised themself with their assertiveness. 

“Okay.” Autumn snuggled down again, her toasty forehead burrowing into Payton’s chest. She let out a long, slow breath as they cradled her gurgling stomach and stroked her hair back from her face, but the peace only lasted a couple of minutes before she was sitting upright again, patting her sides as though she was looking for something. 

“A?” Payton whispered. 

“My mother, I have to call my mother.” Her voice was pinched with panic, the colour draining scarily fast from her face. “Where’s my phone?” 

“Your phone is in your backpack, baby,” Payton said, “but Donnacha is calling your mother, remember? He said he would call her and let her know you’re staying here.” 

Autumn began nodding then, her eyes wide and seeming to plead for reassurance. “Donnacha. Okay. She loves Donnacha. Okay. It’ll be okay...” 

Payton gave her an uneasy smile, feeling a little concerned about how jumpy she was, and not entirely excited to hear about how much her mother loved her ex. They opened their arms, coaxing her back into a reclined position. Her dress had drifted down over her waist again, covering up her striped, navy boy shorts and the red marks left behind by her tights. Payton felt awkward about lifting it up again. 

“Do – do you want to change into one of my t-shirts?” Payton asked, their face flushing all over again at the thought of her removing her dress and her bra in their bedroom. They hated how big of a deal this all seemed, and wished they could have been playing it cooler. 

“Mmm.” Autumn hummed, turning half of her face into Payton’s pillow and eyeing them shyly with the other half. “Yes, please.” 

Payton almost imploded over how cute she was. They slid from the bed and opened a drawer, pushing aside a few binders and stiffer t-shirts until they found something soft and oversized. Autumn had pushed herself into a sitting position again when they turned around, and she was taking a long drink from the glass of water. 

“Oh – careful, baby,” Payton said softly. “Can your belly handle that much water right now?” 

She gulped loudly as she lowered the glass, tongue working at the insides of her lips. “Thirsty.” 

“Yeah?” Payton handed over the t-shirt, eyeing her hopefully. “Do you feel like trying to eat something too, or –?” 

Autumn screwed up her face and rubbed at her belly. 

“Okay, maybe not,” Payton half-smiled.  

“I will puke on your floor if you try to feed me, Payton Harte,” she murmured, a flicker of her usual warmth pushing through the glazed look in her eyes.  

“Well, don’t do that.” Payton dragged their bin out from underneath their desk and positioned it next to their bed. “Puke into this instead.” 

“No, I don’t think I will.” 

“Pretty please,” Payton smiled, relieved when Autumn smiled weakly back at them. 

And then she began to pull her dress up over her head. 

Instead of standing around feeling weird about it, Payton made the snap decision to change, too. They unbuttoned the top of their polo shirt and lifted it over their head. They turned their back to Autumn as they freed themself from their binder, not feeling altogether ready to let her see their chest, even though they were sure her fever-addled mind wouldn’t remember seeing it. They slipped into a t-shirt, too, and stripped down to their boxers. 

When they turned around again, Autumn was curled up with their t-shirt on, her head positioned near the edge of the mattress, one hand touching the rim of the bin on the floor. 

“Queasy again?” they asked softly, approaching the bed. 

Autumn squeezed her eyes shut. “You were right. The water’s swishing in my belly.” 

Payton half-smiled, wishing they weren’t right. 

“P?” 

“Yeah, baby?” 

“I threw up on the stage.” It sounded like this was brand new information to her even as she said it. That tremble came back to her lower lip, but she didn’t attempt to bite it this time.  

“I heard...” Payton clicked their tongue and tucked a strand of loose hair behind Autumn’s ear so it wouldn’t tickle her nose while she lay like this. “Try not to worry about it too much.” 

“I threw up on the stage...” Autumn tugged on the bin, “and it was the closest I’ve gotten to a spotlight all semester.” 

It was the closest she’d come to complaining about being put in the chorus, and Payton couldn’t help feeling a little stunned. They shook their head, not really sure what they could say to encourage her. 

“You’ll...” They broke off, realising that Autumn’s hand had fallen slack between the edge of the bed and the bin. Her lips were still parted, a little glisten of drool already cascading from the corner of her mouth to the pillow. There was a low rumble from her stomach, and Payton instictively placed a protective hand over it, which prompted no movement from her at all. They leaned over to kiss her forehead again, and whispered, “You’ll show them next time, baby.” 

[butterfliesornauseous]

“And I’m sorry”

(500 special 5/5 with just many months later)

Fun fact, I originally started this blog with the intention of being an oc sickfic writer and originally was posting prompts to start getting my name out there and get more comfortable before I posted fics, but I only posted one actual fic and took it down because I still didn’t like my writing and became way more comfortable with prompts and had a lot of fun with them, I think for the final part of my late special I’m ready to bring River and Milo back so here’s them early in their relationship :)

Warning for Emeto, stomach noises, awkwardness, food mention, embarrassment ,reason of illness is in tags for spoilers,

**both characters have also had past ed’s it’s only very lightly touched on and not out right stated, but it’s still hinted at so trigger warning in case**

(Also my sickfic style is way different to my prompt and a and b stories, so I hope the change up is all right and still okay to read:))

Something had quivered inside River’s stomach. A gentle wave of butterflies fluttered in his gut, dancing to the pattern of his fingers drumming softly against the velvet table cloth while he waited. The cosy little restaurant wasn’t exactly buzzed with life tonight but Milo, the bleached blonde he adored was nowhere to be seen.

The air was bursting with spices and sauces scents that would bring a hungry growl out of any stomach yet for River’s own it tugged him deeper into his nervous daze.

River had thought ‘where is he?’ A couple of times now, each time caused a new picture such as the possibility that Milo was probably triple checking his outfit or had begun to fret over his hair as always, or he lost his wallet again, to enter his mind. Each tugged at River’s lips in a way that made his body’s inside feel that much more warmer and mushy.

Realistically he knew it was sort of his own fault that he had been waiting a while for his date. He arrived at the restaurant early just so he could work on taming his need to fidget every few seconds so hopefully he could prevent his hands shaking and his voice rising to a higher octave all night. The issue however, was his brain constantly turned back to giddy thoughts about how he was finally going out with his best friend.

It was the acknowledgement of the butterflies that increased how intense everything felt, and he shifted in his seat as one of his hands came up to play with the thick choker around his neck.

The sound of a squeak being across the table brought River out of his thoughts and grounded him fully into reality with a delicate but rushed voice spoke.

“I’m so so so sorry for being late!”

There he was, Milo bobbing his head in multiple short paced bows that caused his small half up ponytail to bop with him. Milo paused for a second looking at River siting and then quickly sat down himself, tightening his ponytail in the process and tucking his fringe behind his ears. “Sorry…. You look really nice River.”

River’s voice blurted out a fast “Thanks. “

Taking a moment to force himself to breathe he added “Nono it’s not an issue at all." His hands shook for emphasis.

He wanted to choose one of the million compliments swimming through his head, but his voice had died on him ending its permission for him to say nothing more than a “You too.”

‘Get a grip you’re making yourself worse’ River mentally sighed. He would rather not have the butterflies turn into anxious queasiness or possibly even make it to the point where he loses his lunch and possibly forever scars Milo’s memory of him and first dates forever.

Milo stated to apologise again. “I’m so sorry, see one of my friends borrows my charger which was cool dude but then my phone was flat, and I needed to get an Uber because my car is in the shop and I-“

“You’re rambling.”

‘Cute’

There was something about the way Milo had been trying to say so much in one go. The informality in his tone and red in his cheeks eased River’s mind and a just tiny bit of the pressure in his belly.

Milo’s mouth gaped somewhat before another “Sorry.”

River himself can’t really talk on repeated unnecessary apologies, he’s always the first to apologise for everything, still he found a light smile on his lips as he replied “You don’t have to keep saying sorry for everything.”

If he was a bolder person, he would have taken Milo’s hands, kissed them and spoken that the blonde is adorable. That he should stop fretting over everything because he’s just River and River isn’t someone worth getting this flustered for. Yet another squirm in the pit of his stomach made just a small noise come out his throat.

The silence that followed for a beat was broken by Milo deciding to speak first. “Sooo…” he glanced around the room and settled on picking the menu up, “have you seen anything you like yet?” His tone was bashful, spoken in a slightly quieter than previously.

‘He must think I’m weird damn it’

River shrugged. “Not really I honestly kinda of just sat here.” He picked the menu up himself not really reading it. The restaurant's ambience was the only thing heard between them again with the only lick of comfort being they were both together yet at the same time the tension was created because of the fact they were both here together.

“Look I’m going to be completely honest,” Milo folded his menu down so he could gaze at River. “I’m so nervous that I apologise if this is awkward.”

River wasn’t sure if it was Milo would want to hear if he even wants any validation at all but River felt the tension leave his body.

“Oh god I’m sorta glad, I’ve been sitting here for the last couple of minutes thinking I’m so awkward you must find me weird.”

A laugh bubbled from Milo’s mouth, the type of laugh that bounced off the walls and melted into River’s ears. It was enough to pull River into Milo’s spell and make him turn into a love drunk fool who lost control of his brain before he could stop the spill of him finally being able to say longer unfiltered sentences.

“To think we have known each other for so long, and yet I can’t form words right to explain how happy I am that we are out together, You know nine-year-old me with have been stoked to hear he’s on a date with you.”

Milo’s eyes went wide. “R-really?”

“You’re surprised?”

“Mean… Well… I’m not going to lie about it, when we used to hold hands it did make me feel weird things in my tummy and I would be disappointed when you would let go but…” Milo this time gently pulled his fringe back away from his ears.

The pound in River’s heart had stopped for a second like it needed to get ready to speed up after. ‘Milo liked me back as a kid?’

“That sounds like a crush Milo.”

“It so is not, perhaps it was a small infatuation with you but not a crush-” he watched as Milo’s face twisted with a cringe at his wording then it changed to him laughing. If only Milo had known that his laughter was causing all those silly sensations in Rivers stomach to feel like permanent function of his body.

This is all River wanted for Milo. For him to feel free with him and loosen up like this, he would do anything to keep Milo feeling comfortable. But it was a big step tonight for the both of them, outside the first fire date context and River said the first thing that he could think of in hope of continuing the night go be easy for them.

“Want to maybe spilt a dish, would that be easier for you?” That would be easier for River.

Milo’s expression changed first to a look similar to suspicion which morphed into relief. “Actually that would kinda would be nice.” His eyes held a small twinkle of relief. “Uhh what about the carbonara… maybe?” Milo held up the menu, this being the first time River truly held interest for anything on it.

“I think it sounds good too.” River nodded. He bit back his tongue for a moment to make sure his tone conveyed he’s asking this for Milo’s sake and not as a disguise for his own issues. “Are you sure you are okay with this?”

River’s hands were pulled away from his own menu, the softness of Milo’s warm skin leaked into his own as Milo intertwined their fingers tightly. Milo looked to the side as his voice sweetened into fondness “I feel comfortable eating in front of you River.” He squeezed River’s hands. Meeting river’s gaze again.

That meant a lot to him, more than Milo would ever know.

“Milo… I… I do too.”

—————————-

They both put their fork down at the same moment. Milo leaned back into the chair and River hunched. The carbonara was heavier than River expected, a taste different from what he was used to. It sat heavy in his stomach, getting ready for when ever his stomach decided to attempt to digest the rich sauces.

“Good?” Milo asked with a some hesitance as he leaned back up as he patted the top of his tummy while Milo tried to loosen his choker.

River nodded. “Yeah……Good….” No not really, it’s not a taste River was used to, a little on the stranger and chewy side but it was his first time trying this restaurant. Who is he to judge how different places cook their food.

It probably took them over an hour to finish their one shared carbonara from River being a slower eater. A normal eating speed was something River could never let himself do in front of others. His insecurities had attacked him the whole night that he would be judged if he did so and through our the years he had learnt Milo is the type to try to match the pace of who he is eating with.

A gurgle had been brewing in his stomach. He felt his belly tense before he heard a sludgy type of sound emit from him as his stomach went loose again. Milo was sitting slightly slouched over with his thumb circled under his chin with the rest of his fingers in front of his mouth with no reaction of hearing anything when River hastily glanced up to him.

He squirmed involuntarily. Ages ago the flutters finally shooed off only for them to slowly creep back into his now packed stomach, raging back to full life.

It took a strong movement inside him for him to put a hand to his stomach. He hadn’t noticed he was a beginning to bloat until his felt the strain against his pants.

Under his hand he was painfully aware now of how thick the sauces and pasta were mixing up under his skin like small bubbles of unease were popping around the sitting food.

Across to him, Milo blew through his lips and River sat up. “Sorry did you say something?” River’s voice came out shaky, he mentally blamed it on a mix of embarrassment and the chill growing in the late night.

“…. No….did you want me to say something?” River shook his head at Milo’s prompt. He knew the blonde also probably needed a minute to let his tummy prepare to digest as well. He would hate to force Milo to get an upset stomach for him.

Quietness retuned between them, the lack of sounds from the boys forced River to gain more consciousness over the expanding trouble in his belly, which had begun pushing a bit more out.

He took a deeper breath, holding it for three seconds to placate his urge to rub his tummy or do anything else to ease any of the pressure swelling. River allowed himself to close his mouth and squeeze his throat muscles to compel a small quiet burp that he breathed out his nose but stopped at just one with how much it tasted like their dinner but warmer.

The gurgling in his stomach wasn’t held back from it. They were gurgles that ranged from higher sounding foaming noises that fell down to deeper small rumbles that had him sure Milo must be hearing something from the orchestra.

River didn’t feel it but a sudden curdle noise that got higher until it broke into a grumble issued itself, and he cringed. His eyes shut at the loudness yet once he opened them he saw his date blushing a pretty red. “S-sorry, I’m digesting loudly.”

Similar to earlier Milo bowed his head again before his grabbed his tummy when a wetter noise rose from him. “I think it might do that all night-uh that’s so embarrassing.” Milo grimed as he rubbed his hand under his ribs with a small “shhh please.”

He wished he had the confidence to tell Milo it was okay and that his own gut had been churning up a quiet storm for a bit now and Milo’s reaction was cute, but his energy had started to drop the more his meal sat. “It’s no….problem.”

Milo seemed like he was to add something else but instead settled on reaching for his drink when his hand nearly hit it over. In response River jumped forward to grip Milo's wrist, noticing the faint shake and sweat to his hand. Both locked their eyes at the same time.

“Am I allowed to apologise again?”

River hesitated then nodded.

“I kinda of use all my elegance up at dance” Milo said flustered boarding on embarrassed. They took a second longer of River holding Milo before pulling away from each other.

“I think… I think it’s our time to go. River muttered as he realised a couple waiters were staring at them. “We have been here for a while.”

“I-yeah…”

————————————

The bright night sky outside the restaurant grew cooler as the stars became more clear while they walked on the sidewalk. River pulled his jacket closer to his body.

“You don’t have to walk me to the train station…. But I do really appreciate it Milo.”

Milo seemed almost untouched by the cold, even undo doing his top buttons on his blouse. Under the faint street lights, Milo actually looked even a tad sweaty.

“What type of….date am I if I let you walk home by yourself?” He faulted in the middle, sounding unsure of his choice of words.

River offered a hum. His response was more pained than he intended to sound. His focus wasn’t cooperating with him anymore, it being hard to concentrate when the feeling of bubbling in his belly felt like it could have bubbled up at any moment. ‘Of course you let your nerves get to the point of nausea’ Heat pooled in his cheeks.

Milo sighed and all that followed was the sound of their matching footsteps, the new silence that fell between them

Was no saint to be kind enough to mask the occasional boil inside Milo’s stomach that River was too kind to point out.

He did however take notice of the sounds coming from Milo had started to turn into a more constant watery burble compared to earlier’s growls. Again that wish of courage to reassure Milo he also was going through his own embarrassing gut issues, layered guilt inside the uncomfortableness under his clothes that had become completely tight.

River wanted to be polite. On a normal night he would have wanted to spend as much time as possible with Milo but in his stomach he knew deep down he couldn’t handle that much longer with him.

Saliva invaded his mouth, coating his tongue in the taste of carbonara, he shakily uttered, “Y-you really don’t have to stay, it’s-…. It’s cold out here, I don’t mind if you go.”

The ‘O’ movement made a burp escape his throat. Another one followed a little louder with a spin that was a little sour. “I’m so sorry.” River’s hand went up to cover his mouth “I’m so sorry” the other went to his stomach.

It was that feeling in his stomach that happened every time something went wrong. A deep tug that stirred deep within him before it gurgled up his throat and slipped through his fingers onto the pavement.

River gagged again, the warm liquid felt like it could rival the heat that flamed his cheeks as Milo gasped and made a strangled noise. His body stopped anymore coming up but at the cost he became locked up in complete embarrassment and worst was his gut was still heavily sloshing, still full of bile that desired to make another appearance.

‘You are so disgusting River.’ He could have died on the spot, and he would never be more thankful, his nose and throat burnt, his head was fuzzy, and his eyes went watery. Milo must have been so disgusted with him.

“C-can I touch you?”

River eyes shut tight. His mind fell blank as to why Milo could ever want to touch him after losing his dinner, his heart beat fast like it’s expecting Mill to push him over.

Though all he felt was Milo’s fingers on the chain of his choker loosing it and with care, pulling it off his neck. His whole body relaxed, un restricted now, he managed to straighten up.

He wiped his mouth and finally turned to face Milo. His mind span trying to form another apology but… Milo was trembling. The street light above revealed his pale face and-

“Sorry” Milo said before he pitched forward himself, gagging only once before pasta spilt out of his lips.

Oh, this wasn’t just a nervous stomach anymore….

River had chosen the meal that they shared and “I’m sorry” is all he could say before patting a hand on Milo’s back, he then leaned forward himself with another heave.

[hae-meto]

My OC throwing up ✨ (roughly translated)

His bro keeping him company 🫠

[secretobsessionstuff]

The Wedding Fic ❤️

Feat. sick Madix.

I tried my best to strike a balance between the angsty sickfic moments and the cute wedding moments. I hope everyone loves it! I feel a funny sense of pride for my made-up characters. Anyway, I'll always love this community! Thank you for caring about my imaginary friends :)

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

“Guess what?” 

“What?” 

“I’m getting married today.” 

Madix chuckled lowly in his throat as he smoothed out the shoulders on Dakota’s navy-blue suit. He straightened his best friend’s collar, running his hands down the silken fabric so that the lapels lay flat against his chest. “Shoot, I have plans today. I can’t make it.” 

“The betrayal!” Dakota dramatically swooned and grabbed his chest. Their hands touched, making them both sober up. Dakota held Madix’s hand firmly. He sniffled—the first signs of tears of the day. “Thank you, Mads. Everything looks great.” 

“Oh, you’re not ready yet,” Madix said, rummaging in the suitcase he had packed for the day. 

The wedding hall had private rooms for the couple to get ready separately. Blair was no doubt being pampered and kissed in the room next door. He could hear soft laughter coming through the wall. It was only 9am and already the air was alive with excitement. It was going to be a dizzying day full of movement. Madix tried to steady his shaking hands as he pinned a flower boutonnière onto Dakota’s breast. In fashion with a December wedding, the flowers were white as snow with red berries as the accent. Pine green leaves added a touch of nature as well. 

“Are you nervous?” Madix asked, feeling Dakota’s chest rise and fall with each breath. 

“No,” Dakota said simply. “I’ve been waiting for this my whole life. Nothing has ever felt more right.” 

“Gosh, Kota, we’re not supposed to cry yet.” Madix wiped his eyes. He also wiped his palms on his pants. He wore a grey suit, similar to Dakota’s blue one, with less adornments. Sweat seemed to gather in every crevice of the outfit. 

Dakota watched his friend anxiously scan the room. Madix finally took a good deep breath when he put the rings in his pocket. Next, he grabbed the cufflinks off the dresser. “You nervous?” 

Madix sighed and wiped the sweat off his brow. “Maybe a bit stressed. I want everything to go well for you.” Butterflies fluttered in his stomach. He didn’t expect to have so many nerves on a day that wasn’t even his own. He regretted eating such a large breakfast at the hotel. An odd ache settled in the pit of his belly that he knew wouldn’t go away until Dakota and Blair kissed. 

When Madix finished attaching the cufflinks, Dakota grabbed his hands once more, momentarily taken aback by their clamminess. “Relax, Maddy. It doesn’t have to be perfect. I appreciate all that you’ve done up to this point. I love you.” 

“I love you too.” Madix tried to shake off the growing sense of nausea. “Let’s make you a married man.” 

…

Large windows covered the entire back wall of the wedding hall. Madix thanked mother nature for providing the fluffiest snowfall. There were no harsh winter winds or grey skies—only sunshine that danced between soft snowflakes. 

He stood at the end of the aisle with Dakota, Riley, and Dakota’s sister Logan. Logan wore a feminine grey suit that matched the rest of the groomsmen. In the first row of seats, Dakota’s father couldn’t take his eyes off his son. The two generations tapped on their legs in anticipation. Dakota’s smile grew bigger and bigger as his soon-to-be bride was about to walk down the aisle. 

The music changed, and then Blair emerged wearing winter itself.

Arm in arm with her father, Blair made the fateful walk towards Dakota. Her long white dress trailed behind her, tracking red flower petals that the young flower girl had dropped. Intricate lace covered her arms in a flurry of patterns. The bouquet of reds, greens, and white matched Dakota’s boutonnière. And her smile! Her smile matched Dakota’s as well. It was as if their joy drew them together. Madix smirked as Dakota bounced on his feet. 

Her platinum blond hair fell over her shoulders in a snowfall. She radiated warmth despite the arctic aesthetic. Her skin held a candle-like glow. Her eyes shone as if bouncing back the light from the flickering fireplace.

And then the handkerchief came out. Dakota dabbed his eyes lightly at first. Finally, when she stood next to him, he couldn’t help the flood of tears. A queen stood before him. His queen. 

Blair took his hands. “Hi baby,” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. 

Dakota let out a shaky laugh. “Hi, oh my god, Bee. You look—you look beautiful.” He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t find the words. His eyes remained glassy for the rest of the ceremony, filled with tears of joy. He imagined that he was looking through a snow globe, seeing only one perfect dream for the rest of his life. 

As ceremonies go, this one was short and to the point. 

Neither Dakota nor Blair was terribly religious, but a bit of Blair’s mother managed to squeeze into the officiant’s speech. Yes, it spoke of everlasting love, faithfulness, and the love of God. But it also spoke of evergreen trees, with their unwavering steadiness in the face of harsh winds. It spoke of growth and new beginnings, with the officiant playing off the chilly weather outside to mark a contrast between winter and spring. Dakota and Blair’s life as a married couple would move through the seasons, with all its ups and downs. Whether sun or rain, they would have each other to find shelter and peace in. 

Madix’s vision grew blurry, but not because of tears. He swayed on his feet, feeling a wave of vertigo wash over him. His heart thudded loud in his chest. Trying his hardest to keep his expression neutral, he bit the side of his cheek to keep the nausea from showing on his face. 

For possibly the tenth time, he wiped the sweat from his forehead. At the same time, he shivered as if there were no window blocking out the winter weather. He knew that being hot and cold at once wasn’t a good sign. Nothing happening in his body was a good sign—not the churning in his belly, nor the aches in his muscles. What started out as nerves seemed to be revealing itself as something more. Madix swallowed thickly, forcing down a nauseous burp. 

The ceremony only had a few more beats to hit. He could make it. He would not pass out, even though he wanted so badly to lean back against Riley who stood behind him. It looked like he’d be carrying a secret with him that day—a heavy secret that sat like grease in his tummy. 

Madix forced himself to pay attention when Dakota and Blair said their vows. 

Dakota went first. He pulled a paper out of his pocket and unfolded it with steady hands. He smiled at Blair, getting lost in her soft gaze until he realized that he needed to speak the words out loud. 

“Blair, Bee. I love you so fucking much. I couldn’t think of a better way to start this because writing is not my strong suit.” Dakota let out a shaky laugh, finding the right rhythm for his speech. He held the paper, though never looked down at the words. “I wish you could see through my eyes so that you’d understand that you are my entire world. I look at you when I make a joke to see if it made you laugh. I look at you when I’m scared and overwhelmed because you make me feel grounded. I look at you and I see my future. In your eyes, I see comfort and unconditional love. You put up with all my ramblings and my childish sense of humour. You help slow the world down when my brain is going too fast. I get to appreciate your beauty, your confidence, and your kindness in real time. I hope our lives together move slow so that I can spend an eternity loving you the way you deserve.” 

Tears like icicles fell onto Blair’s rosy cheeks. She mumbled a quick ‘I love you’ under her breath before taking out her own cue cards. 

“Dakota,” she began, wiping her eyes with a tissue, “you’re my favourite person to be around because I can be myself in its entirety. With you I can be vulnerable, and messy, and imperfect. It’s a gift to be able to hold someone who knows and loves every bit of your soul. You’ve always encouraged me to chase my dreams, and this is me chasing my forever dream. Our careers may change, our health may waver, but my heart will never change. It will forever be yours. I vow to always laugh at your jokes, to stand by you in times of sorrow, and to lift you up just as you have done for me. Today I get to marry my favourite person, and I can’t wait another second.”

After a few more words from the officiant, Madix was finally admitting to himself that his unease would not go away even when his best friend was well and truly married. He felt all the joy and love in his heart after hearing their vows, but that did not stop him from feeling other, less pleasant sensations, elsewhere in his body. 

Dakota and Blair were oblivious to anything that wasn’t each other—as they should be! They allowed themselves to get lost in the eyes of their partner. They held hands, wearing their giddy smiles while they exchanged ‘I do’s’. 

With snow falling in the background and candles aglow around them, Dakota and Blair shared their first kiss as husband and wife. 

…

Cocktail hour and photo ops was the worst part of the day for Madix. He held back while his best friends ventured outside to take pictures in the snow. Eventually he would need to join the wedding party in the cold for group pictures, but he took a second to himself to hide in the bathroom. He wandered upstairs where the private bathroom would give him the necessary privacy to wallow in his misery. 

He was going to ruin the goddamn pictures with his forced smile and baggy eyes. His face was the colour of January slush. The lights in the bathroom buzzed in his brain. He groaned and leaned against the sink as a burp rumbled up his chest. His stomach was a blizzard of nausea, swirling with half-digested food. 

This was the beginning of something bad. He was sick and he knew it. He prayed that he could hide it until the end of the night. Out of all the days in the year, this one was certainly the worst one to make a big deal about his own feelings. Dakota and Blair didn’t deserve this on their wedding day. 

Madix debated telling Riley that he was sick, but he decided against it for many reasons. Besides the obvious, Riley would likely insist that Madix be honest with Dakota and Blair. They’re your friends. They will understand. Well, Madix didn’t want them to understand; he wanted them to be none the wiser and go about their special day without worry. 

Madix stayed in the bathroom, forcing down burps, until he had to take pictures. He avoided hugs and handshakes as much as he could. He also avoided the appetizers and drinks. His breakfast seemed to be cooperative about staying down, but he knew that wouldn’t be the case if he tried to eat anything else. Though the vertigo was ever-present, he never dared touching the food. 

The staff members turned the ceremony hall into the dinner hall, swapping out the rows of chairs with circular tables. Deep reds and forests greens gave the room a mature and relaxed vibe. As the day progressed, the moon replaced the sun in the large windows.

Dakota and Blair had their first dance, swaying slowly like trees blowing in the wind. Blair’s dress created a halo around their feet as they spun on the dance floor. 

Madix watched until he couldn’t. He missed seeing Blair dance with her father and then missed Blair dancing with Dakota’s dad. He wanted to stay for it all, but the nausea was too great. His head swam and his tummy gurgled. Madix made some excuse to Riley and quickly fled the hall. 

His stomach was done being kind.

He jogged to the private bathroom in the groom’s room, thankful that he had access to these parts of the building. 

Madix moaned as he dropped to his knees in front of the toilet. He held his aching belly as it whined. A gurgling burp escaped past his lips, dripping saliva into the bowl. 

After a long time of gagging and spitting, he suddenly felt his stomach lurch. His shoulders rolled forward with a deep retch that came from the pit of his guts. Thick vomit splattered into the toilet. His belly gave another squeeze. He moaned as more sick gushed from his mouth. 

Ten minutes later, his hands were shaking and his nose burned with acid. He cleaned himself up, splashed water on his face, and returned to the party. 

Dinner was served to every table by this point. He had missed a lot. He let out a deep exhale and shook out his wrists to release the build-up of tension in his bones. 

At the head table, Dakota and Blair chatted with relatives who came to say hi. Madix tried to inconspicuously take his spot next to Dakota without prompting anyone to notice his absence. 

“Madix, where’d you go?” Dakota said loudly, turning to his friend. “Riley got you a plate of food.” He swung his arm over the back of his chair. “I feel like I haven’t seen you all day.” 

“You’re very popular today, Kota,” Madix said, trying to sound light. “I wanted to give you space to talk to family.” 

“Yeah, it’s crazy. I don’t know who half these people are.” Dakota looked down at the untouched food. He slid the plate closer to his friend. “Eat. You look pale.” Dakota got distracted by a relative coming up to say kind words, but he eventually turned his attention back to Madix who was only stabbing at the grilled chicken with his fork. He looked contemplative for a moment before saying, “Are you alright? You seem off.” 

Madix shrugged. “I’m good. There’s just lots going on. Lots of talking and music.” 

“You got a headache? Blair has ibuprofen.” Before he could say anything, Dakota spun around to ask Blair for meds. 

Blair reached across her new husband to hand Madix two pills. “Hope these help, Mads, because we have a good playlist lined up for tonight.” She held onto his hand for longer than necessary, noticing his flushed cheeks. “You can step outside if it’s too hot in here.” 

“I might do that actually.” 

“But be back in time for speeches!” Blair said excitedly. 

Fuck. His speech…

Madix pretended to go outside, but he just snuck back to the bathroom, hoping he could throw up one more time before he had to talk to a room full of strangers. His stomach made all sorts of noises. He hung his head over the toilet, letting stringy saliva fall into the water. He belched and hiccupped but nothing more. It caused a great sense of dread to build in his body, knowing he was at the mercy of an unpredictable stomach bug. 

Fuck it, he said, preparing to get his speech over and done with. After that, there’d be just dancing that he didn’t mind missing. 

Blair’s sister got up to the podium first, talking about the role model that Blair was. Being a teenager, she made the room laugh with her slang and fresh jokes.

His own speech was printed on cue cards that surely would be drenched in sweat inside his pocket. He pulled out the damp paper, wondering if steam was curling off his head. 

Madix plastered on a smile and stepped up to the podium. Dakota and Blair smiled at him expectantly with their arms wrapped around each other. 

He cleared his throat, remembering the taste of vomit as it clung to his oesophagus. “Dakota…you’ve been my best friend since high school…and now you’ve given me a new person to laugh with, care for, and make memories with. I love Blair as much as I love you, perhaps a little more because” —Madix paused, feeling a burp rising to his mouth. He pressed a fist to his lips, suppressing the belch before it could escape— “because she has never called me in the middle of the night asking for an emergency condom. She has never wrapped my entire desk, including my pencils, in aluminum foil…” 

Madix was sure he had prepared a third example of the ridiculous things that Dakota had done to him over the years, but he couldn’t remember what it was. He UMMed and left awkward silences in this speech until he decided to skip over it. 

This was not going well. His voice was robotic, and his posture was crap as he tried to ease the ache in his belly by leaning forward. He couldn’t rub his stomach behind the podium because Dakota and Blair sat nearly in line with where he stood. 

Madix skipped over much of his speech. He would have to give Dakota the script for it some other time because they really did have great memories, but he couldn’t bring himself to stand there for much longer. He wondered if the microphone was picking up the sick gurgles that came from his stomach. God, he hoped not. It was making so much noise, and of course now he felt like he could throw up. Now, with everyone staring at him—with Dakota and Blair waiting for him to finish his speech—now, his belly was ready to give up. 

His jaw was growing heavier, and he had to swallow an absurd amount of saliva. He hiccupped and blushed, realizing that people must think he was drunk. Finish the fucking speech. He raised his glass, “To Dakota and Blair, I hope you annoy each other now, instead of the rest of us. To Blair, I hope you know that you can come to me just as you would your best friend, because that’s what I’ll be for you as long as you love Dakota.” 

Madix forced himself to drink the champaign. The bubbles angered his belly enough to make him gag so he quickly covered his mouth and left the podium. 

He couldn’t do all that without giving his friends hugs, so he walked into Dakota’s open arms. Dakota mumbled something vaguely funny in his ear then kissed him on the cheek. 

He hugged Blair next. She too whispered in his ear, “Thank you, Madix. I love you.” 

“I love you, Bee.” 

She broke away from the hug but held onto his arm, watching his face closely. Madix squirmed under her gaze, imagining that his expression gave away his secret. Maybe it did. He mumbled something about going to the bathroom. Luckily Blair’s parents were meant to give the last speech, so she didn’t say anything to him as he left. 

Madix’s stomach gurgled ominously. It churned beneath his hand as he half-ran to the same bathroom that he’d been using all day. His knees, now bruised from before, felt the pain of landing on the cold tile once more. 

With his hands gripped tightly to the toilet, he let out the sick belch that he’d been holding for the entire speech. It burst from his mouth, bringing with it a flood of acid that burned the back of his throat. 

The rippling water made him dizzy and lightheaded. His poor tummy turned itself inside out. 

A torrent of sick rushed past his lips. He felt the chunks of food on his tongue, making him gag even more. Another heave, and he filled the bowl with more brown sludge. 

This was the moment that Blair appeared in the open doorway. As soon as the speeches were done, she snuck away to check on Madix. It wasn’t difficult to find him, given the harsh sounds of vomiting. 

The door to the groom’s room was closed, but Madix had not shut the bathroom door, thinking that no one would come into the adjoining room. She closed the door behind her and pouted at the sick boy on the floor. 

“Oh, Madix, hon,” she cooed, stepping into the large bathroom. She crouched next to him and placed a hand on his back. He shuddered at her touch. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” 

He couldn’t say a word because his belly spasmed again. This time, tears of exertion and sadness leaked from his eyes. She touched him so gently that he couldn’t help but mumble her name. He hadn’t realized that someone else’s presence would feel so good. “Blair…Ugh, I’m so sorry.” 

She shushed him. “No, don’t say that. You have nothing to be sorry for.” She brushed his damp hair back from his face. “Oh, you’re really sick, aren’t you?” 

He nodded and leaned back against the wall. “Please don’t tell Dakota. It’s just a stomach bug.” 

Blair made a tsking noise at the foolish boy. “Honey, look at you. You’re delirious if you think I’m going to let you go on like this.” She placed her palm on his forehead. “And you’re burning up. Dakota will want to bring you back to the hotel.” 

Madix wanted to cry more, but he had no more fluid left in his body. 

“Don’t move.” Blair stood up and dusted off her dress. “We’re going to help you, you stubborn man.” 

Blair found her husband chatting with his father at one of the empty tables. Most everyone was dancing. Dakota swayed to the music, listening to his father tell a story. 

She put a hand on his shoulder. “Sorry to interrupt. Babe, can I talk to you, please?” 

Dakota followed Blair into the hallway where it was quiet. He held her hand and giggled as if they were going somewhere to make out.  He sobered up when he saw her face. “What’s wrong?” 

“Your best man is an idiot.” 

“Only occasionally. What did he do?” 

Blair pinched the bridge of her nose. “He’s really sick. He didn’t want to tell you, so he’s hiding in the bathroom.” 

A confused frown brought Dakota’s brows together. His expression softened as he begun to think back. “Oh gosh, he is an idiot.”

“Would you talk some sense into him?” It was not a question. “I’ll talk to Riley and tell him what’s happening.” 

… 

Madix had resigned to sleeping on the floor, which is how Dakota found him. He pouted at the sight of his ashen complexion. 

“Mads, what the heck is this? Did you get drunk without me?” Dakota said, trying to add humour into his voice. With a groan, he lowered himself to the floor. He touched Madix’s shoulder. “Hey, you with me, buddy?” 

In a small voice, Madix mumbled, “Please don’t be mad.” 

Dakota shook his head in disbelief. “You’re such a fool. How could I be mad?” He rubbed his hand over Madix’s back as he rambled. “I suppose I could be upset that you spent the whole day lying to me. I could be upset that you didn’t let me help you before it got this bad.” Dakota just sighed. “Oh well, whatchu gonna do?” 

They sat in silence for a moment while Dakota loosened the tie around Madix’s neck. He puttered around the bathroom, flushing the toilet and wetting a cloth to wipe Madix’s face. He then knelt in front of him. “Time to sit up, Maddy.” 

Madix did as he was told, feeling his face unpeel from the floor. He groaned from the effort it took to move. His eyes were half shut when he finally looked at Dakota. “Did you have a good day at least?” 

“Yes, I did. I married my best friend.”

“We got married?” Madix slurred, letting a playful smile tug at his lips. 

Dakota chuckled. “You’ve been demoted, buddy…Nah, I’m just kidding, you’ll always be my best friend.” With gentle movements, Dakota washed the sick and sweat off Madix’s face. “God, that’s some fever. Here, let me take off your jacket.” 

They started the day with Madix dressing the groom and ended it with Dakota helping his best man out of his fever-soaked clothes.

[hopelilies]

Final Meal

(Rossi belongs to @komahinanamikura)

[sickly-qt]

Whatever you've got planned for Mila/Remy and Drew/Finn will be wonderful, but I have to admit I kind of hope Mila does get pregnant - the opportunities for Remy as caretaker are just so good, lol. And I feel like Drew and Finn are actually ready to step up to be parents themselves. But like I said, whatever you decide is great.

In the meantime, Mila has to catch Jules' bug and then pass it on to Remy, right? And Julian takes care of them both? Hmm?

AH I'm so sorry it took me so long to get around to this. But you are SO right, Mila totally has to catch Jules' bug (which happened here for anyone who missed it) and don't worry Remy isn't going to make it out unscathed he's going to suffer soon. However, for now it's Mila's turn.

I hope you enjoy!

~~~

“Feeling okay?” Remy asked, looking at Mila over his glasses.

She was coming down the stairs, her auburn hair damp and hanging in loose waves over her shoulders. What really caught his attention was the way her arms were wrapped around herself and the uncomfortable look on her face

“My stomach is upset.” Mila shrugged, then collapsed onto the couch and laid her head on Remy’s shoulder, looking at the iPad on his lap, “What are you working on?”

“Just putting together some projections for a meeting later this week. Boring stuff.” 

“Don’t you ever stop working, it’s 7pm on a Saturday. You should be paying attention to me and your kids.” She complained.

“By kids you mean the one who’s still sleeping off a stomach bug from hell and the other that can’t be bothered with me because she’s distracted by some new gadget my mom got her?” Remy teased, “I work when I can find the time, and right at this moment, my time is for you.” He closed his iPad case and set it on the coffee table before wrapping his arms around Mila. “You’re warm.” Remy pushed her hair away from her face.

“I am? That’s great, I’ve probably caught what Jules is recovering from.” Mila nuzzled in closer to his side and sighed, “I really don’t feel well.”

“I know, Love. Let me get you something for that fever.”

Mila took the pills with no complaints and promptly passed out on the couch while Remy cleaned up dinner and got Leah bathed and settled for bed. After all of his dad duties he returned to his boyfriend duties and sat on the edge of the couch in front of Mila, gently shaking her awake.

She scrunched up her face and groaned, clearly not happy with having been woken up. 

“C’mon, M. Let’s head up to bed.” He said quietly, tucking her hair behind her ear. He frowned, noticing the heat still radiating off her skin. 

“I feel sick,” she whined.

“Nauseous sick or fever and achy sick?”

“Yes.” she sighed, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes.

Mila slowly sat up and pressed the back of her hand to her mouth muffling a small burp. Remy looked at her with raised eyebrows. 

“I’m gonna throw up.”

“Now?”

She shook her head, “I’ll make it upstairs.” She hiccupped, then grimaced and swallowed hard.

“Okay, c’mon. I actually rather like this carpet down here.”

Remy walked behind her upstairs, his hand hovering by the small of her back as she made her way to their bedroom. 

He peeked in on Jules and Leah to make sure they were both sleeping before trailing Mila into the room where he found her hovering over the toilet in their en-suite. 

“How are we doing, Lovely?” Remy asked gently, filling a glass with water and sitting it on the edge of the sink before grabbing a claw clip out of the vanity drawer.

Mila shook her head, hiccupping. A small burp came up and she gagged a trail of spit hanging from her lips into the water. 

“I don’t feel good.” She stated the obvious.

“I know.” He cooed, gathering all her hair and twisting it up into the clip. Remy settled on the edge of the tub rubbing small circles across her shoulders. 

It didn’t take long for her spine to curl and dinner to make a reappearance in the bowl.

She coughed and sputtered, small burps wracking her until a larger wave came up quickly followed by another. 

“You’re alright, M. Get it all up.” Remy continued rubbing her back. 

Strands of her hair were coming out of the claw clip and he pushed them out of her face, his hand holding her forehead. 

“Ughhh, fuck.” Mila groaned, sniffling. She reached up and flushed the toilet, sitting back. 

“Want some water?” Remy asked quietly.

She nodded, “Please?”

When she drinks some water and keeps it down for a little while they move to bed, Remy sitting the trashcan near her side of the bed just in case. 

“I’m a big girl, I can make it to the bathroom.” She mumbled tiredly.

“I know, I know. It’s just in case, M.” He crawled into bed and she quickly curled up next to him, nestling her head in his neck. 

Remy was exhausted, holding Mila’s hair back as she puked into the trashcan for the second time that night. He could only imagine how tired she was. She had run out of energy to run back and forth to the bathroom after the third trip. 

Mila hiccupped and whined, water and bile trickling into the bin hugged to her chest. 

“This is hell.” She complained, “Can you hand me some water?”

Remy reached around her and grabbed the water bottle off of the nightstand, opening it before handing it to her. She took a couple sips before burping over the trashcan. 

“You’re doing great, Love. You’re a trooper.”

“If I keep puking I’m going to scream”

“As long as you keep drinking water I think we can avoid a trip to the doctor. I just don’t want you getting as dehydrated as Jules… your fever seems to be sitting around 100.3.”

Mila took a couple more sips of water and hovered over the bin for a couple more minutes before she sat it on the floor and laid back down with a sigh.

“I’m going to apologize ahead of time for when you catch this.” She said, staring at the ceiling.

“I’ll live, just like you will. Nothing could keep me from holding back your hair while you’re puking your pretty little guts up.”

“Oh my god, shut up.” Mila rolled over, laying her head on Remy’s chest. 

“I’m serious.” He ran his fingers up and down her arm, “nothing in the world could keep me from staying up all night taking care of my vomiting girlfriend.”

“You’re ridiculous… I love you.” 

“I love you too.” Remy pressed a kiss into her hair, “Get some rest, Love.”