#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.” 

[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👍

[dontopenfairies]

“Hey, come on, let’s go play the arcade games by the bar!” shouts one of our friends.

“Ohh, I wanna go,” my boyfriend says, starting to rise and then looking over at me. I’m still talking to my best friend at our table. “Is it okay if I leave for a second?”

“Yeah, that’s fine, sweetheart,” I say, brushing my hand down his arm as he stands up and follows our friends to the other room. “We’re just going to keep talking over here.”

“Okay! Be right back!”

Around half an hour later, everyone comes trooping back, looking a little dopier and smilier.

“Oof,” I say, involuntarily, as my boyfriend plows into me and wraps his arms around me, sliding into the booth next to where I’m sitting. I can smell sweet, warm alcohol on him.

“Hi,” he says, looking at me with glassy eyes.

“You’re drunk!” I say, pushing him away playfully.

“He had a couple shots,” explains one of our friends. “And he finished Maria’s vodka cherry for her.”

“Ohh,” I say, wrapping my arm around his shoulder. “Is that so? Maybe we should get a ride home soon.”

But someone wants to sing karaoke, and then he wants to show me the pinball machines, and there’s another round of shots…and, finally, the bar is closed and we are outside in the dark parking lot waiting for our Uber.

“I have to go pee,” he says to me quietly.

“Okay,” I say. “Do you want to go find somewhere secluded to go, or…” Just at that moment, the Uber pulls up in front of us.

“That’s okay. I can hold it until we get home.”

“Are you sure? It’s going to be about 10 minutes.”

“Yeah,” he says. “I can hold it.”

He doesn’t complain the whole way home, he just keeps giggling and nestling his face against my neck. We finally get dropped off in front of the house. As he stands up, I hear him wince. “Oh fuck. I forgot I have to pee. Oww…” He hurries up the front walkway to the porch and I follow him.

“Let me get the door,” I say, knowing he’ll just fumble trying to unlock it. I shake my keys out of my purse. He’s twisting the hem of his shirt between his hands and squeezing his thighs together. I unlock the door and pull it open. Inside, I flip on the light and drop my keys in the dish on the table by the door and slip off my shoes, bracing myself with a hand on the wall. “Aren’t you going to go to the bathroom?” I ask, turning to look over my shoulder.

“…Oops.” He’s standing completely still in front of the door, hands clutching his crotch. A big wet patch is forming across his pants.

“Ohh, sweetheart. Come on.” I gently guide his hands away and hold them tight, ignoring that they’re a little damp, as I walk backwards, leading him to the bathroom.

“I’m not finished,” he mumbles as I start to unbutton his fly.

“Oh,” I say, stepping back. “Here, why don’t you just sit down on the toilet…um, are you okay?” He looks very pale.

He suddenly burps loudly and claps a hand to his mouth. “I’m going to throw up,” he says, eyes wide with fear.

“Oh, oh, baby,” I say, quickly lifting the lid and seat of the toilet. “Crouch down. You’re okay.” He chokes and a thin stream of foamy, white vomit slips out of his mouth into the toilet bowl. At the same time, he starts to pee again and I can hear it dripping on the floor. One hand braces him on the rim of the toilet bowl and the other is between his legs. “You had way too much to drink,” I say, wiping his slick hair off his forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I know you don’t like it when people throw up.” I can see his stomach heave and he throws up a little more, then sits back on his ankles.

“Are you all done?”

“Yeah,” he says, “that was it.” He wipes his mouth with his sleeve. “Oh, sorry. That’s gross.” He sets his hand down on the floor and looks up at me, so sad and pathetic.

“Okay, stand up, sweetheart,” I say, guiding him to his feet. The pee has soaked long streaks on his pants all the way down to his ankles. I close the toilet lid and flush it, and then I lead him over to the sink and wrap my arms around him from behind so I can wash both of our hands.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“It’s okay, honey,” I say, rubbing soap onto the backs of his hands. “I’m here.”

“I didn’t mean to throw up,” he says.

“I know, baby. Just let me get the pee and throw-up off your hands.” I turn on the tap and rub the soap off under the water, turning his hands over to make sure I’m rinsing everywhere. “Then you can rinse your mouth out and I can take off your pants and get you in PJs. And then we’re going to brush our teeth and go to bed.”

“Okay,” he says, and I let him lean down to get water right out of the tap. He starts to gulp it down.

“Careful,” I say, rubbing his back. “Is that a good idea?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I feel okay.” He wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve again.

“I need to get your face, too,” I say, reaching for a washcloth. I hold onto his cheek and gently rub the wet cloth over his face, first over his eyes and forehead and then his mouth and chin. He keeps his eyes closed. “Does that feel good?”

“Mm,” he murmurs. I undo his fly and gently coax his pants down. He’s about 50% hard under his briefs. “I’m sorry,” he says again, now sounding more ashamed.

“It’s okay,” I say. “It’s really okay, honey.”

“First I wet the bed the other week. And now I peed my p-pants…” Oh no. He’s starting to cry again. “And I threw up…I never throw up from drinking…”

“Oh, sweetheart. Oh, baby.” I wrap my arms around him and he cries into my shoulder. “It’s okay. It happens, honey. It’s okay.” I disentangle myself and squeeze both his hands. “You’re going to stay right here and I’m coming back with PJs for you. And tomorrow morning we’ll take a long, warm shower. You’re okay.”

“Okay,” he says, and I leave him, standing half-naked and looking a little lost.

I come back and set his pajamas on the counter. I help him pull his shirt off over his head and then get another washcloth. “Let’s just wipe you down really quick for now, okay? I can tell you’re tired.” For some reason hearing this makes him tear up again. I peel off his briefs and add them to the pile of dirty, wet clothes under the sink. Then I gently wipe off his penis, his balls, between his thighs, and his butt. His dick is slowly twitching to a full erection.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I d-don’t know why I’m getting hard.”

“I’m touching you,” I say. “It’s going to happen.” I’ll ignore, just for now, the fact that he’s been hard this whole time, ever since he had his accident. I dab him all dry with a clean towel and help him step into new underwear and his pajama pants, and pull his night tshirt over his head. “Do you need to wash your face again?” I ask. He nods and splashes himself with water. I wash my face, too, and then I brush my teeth and his. I don’t want him to gag himself with the toothbrush and while he seems better, he still doesn’t have quite the coordination he does when sober.

“Come on, bedtime,” I say, leading him out of the bathroom. “Let’s climb under the covers.” I crawl in first and open my arms so he can slink in and cuddle up to me.

I hold his warm body in silence until he says, “I don’t know why that turned me on so much.”

“You like being taken care of. It’s okay.” I kiss his head. It’s a little smelly. He definitely needs a thorough shower tomorrow morning.

“It is?” he asks in a small voice.

“Yes, it’s really okay. If you need to throw up again, or if you need help going pee, just wake me up, okay, sweetheart?” He hums. “Can I hear you say okay, baby?”

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll tell you.” Then he gets quiet again. “What happens if I wet the bed again?” he asks.

“Then maybe it’ll be time to think about having you wear pull-ups to bed, or something. Lots of grown-ups have to do it.”

“Mm,” he says in acknowledgment.

“That wouldn’t be so bad,” I say. “It won’t be the end of the world. It just means I get to take care of you extra good.”

“Mmm…” he says. “I like how that sounds.”

And then his breathing turns deep and even, and I know he’s asleep.

[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

[uremetomommy]

Fic I never posted

Felicity spent the entire morning that day anxious for her science final. Her entire future rode on whether or not she would get an A on that final. Being that she had anxiety, it had left her with a few butterflies and tummy flutters, but she’d made her way through the final with some ease and completely forgot about the anxious tummy ache she woke up with.

Felicity walked out of the exam room feeling confident, and since she wanted to reward herself for months of studying, she decided to make a trip to her local burger joint. The grumbling hunger in her belly made her eyes bigger than her stomach, however, and she almost bought home the entire restaurant.

A large 10 piece chicken nugget meal with a diet coke, an extra large fries, 2 cheeseburgers, a triple burger with bacon, and 2 ice creams.

Time got fuzzy as she made her way home, mindlessly chomping on the fries on the drive home, sipping the coke, and by the time she was sat on the couch watching a movie she had no time to waste getting started on the entrées she had ordered.

Then suddenly, her belly felt painfully full of gas and stodgy food. This restaurant often makes her feel gross afterwards, but the sheer volume of the food she had consumed without even thinking created a gross, queasy feeling she hadn’t expected. The bubbling and gurgling of her belly sent wet burps up her throat and acid stung the back of her tongue. Carefully, Felicity rubbed her upper stomach to try and prod out the pain that she was experiencing but all she was given in return was a sickly slosh that made her huff out a nauseated breath. She had to accept that she was definitely ending that night being violently sick.

Each movement she made resulted in a gross slosh and a meaty burp that felt like food could project upwards at any moment.

Deciding it would be safer to make her way to the bathroom instead of sitting on the couch, Lic decided that the waddle to the bathroom that made her gurgly belly even more angry was far more worth it than scrubbing out her carpet and risking her security deposit.

Sitting against the cool porcelain of the bath and toilet, Felicity burped into the water and made it ripple ever so slightly. The feeling of staring into the bowl where her dinner would eventually end up made her insides twist and turn grossly. Even just thinking about food made her gag as she pressed a manicured hand against her lips, mouth cheeks inflating with air she didn’t dare let out incase her food came up with it.

Suddenly, her belly lurched with a wet, bubbly retch that sent a trickle of vomit into the bowl. She rubbed her stomach desperately, hoping to coax the process to hurry up as the nausea was increasing to uncomfortable levels.

With another wet burp, her dinner rushed up her throat in thick waves, hardly leaving time for breathing. She choked down some air, the nauseous tingle of the remaining stomach contents swirling around as she flushed away the mess and was left to nurse a queasy belly all night long.

————

No idea if you guys even want to see fics from me, but this was in my notes app for TOO long so. Enjoy?:)

[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.

[rebelwhump]

Donuts & Tummyaches

This story is set in the future of my current timeline, but I’ve struggled to find the motivation to write and this just came easier. In this fic, we meet Julie, Alice’s (future) girlfriend.

cw: emeto, burping

—————

After returning home from her morning shift at the campus cafeteria, Alice stripped out of her constricting uniform and collapsed on her bed, not bothering to get under the covers. This is where her girlfriend, Julie, found her. They had plans to meet up for lunch, but Julie received a text from her an hour ago saying she felt like shit and asked for a rain check. Being a school nurse, and natural caretaker, Julie promptly messaged her back saying she was on her way.

“Hi love, how’re you feeling?” Julie sat down next to Alice on the bed and started to run her fingers through her blonde and blue hair, in an attempt to both comfort and check for a fever. The blonde was clammy, but cool to the touch.

“Nrrgh,” Alice grunted as she buried her face into the pillow.

“I see. Could you be a bit more specific?” Julie pried with a slight smirk on her cherry lips.

“My belly feels all bloated and sloshy,” she admitted as she palmed the upset organ. Julie grimaced with sympathy.

“You definitely look uncomfortable. What did you have to eat today?”

“Not much,” Alice shrugged. “I ate a few leftover donuts this morning, an iced latte, and two energy drinks when I got to work.” Julie’s jaw dropped and she shook her head.

“Well no wonder your tummy is upset, my love. That’s a lot of liquid and sugar in a short amount of time!” The brunette rummaged through her oversized purse, the sound of pills being shook inside plastic bottles was all you could hear.

“Jesus! What do you have in there, an entire pharmacy?” Alice exclaimed.

“I am a nurse, silly.” The woman smiled. “I always come prepared. Especially when my patient is as adorable as you.” Alice rolled her eyes and rubbed at her swollen stomach, working up an airy belch. “Are you nauseous?”

“A little,” Alice confessed. “I just feel super gassy.” Another burp escaped, and she grimaced at the acidic fruity taste it left on her tongue.

“Why don’t we try an antacid?” She held out two tums. “Then I can rub your tummy and help you expel some of that trapped gas.” Her girlfriend sighed and accepted the medicine, chewing the chalky substance carefully. It left her mouth feeling sticky and dry. Swallowing thickly, she reached over to her nightstand and grabbed her half empty water bottle, gulping down the remaining liquid. A wet sounding burp followed shortly after and the other girl instructed her to lay back down and gently lifted her tank top.

Warm hands snaked along Alice’s bloated tummy, gurgling and sloshing fiercely with the additional liquid. Julie traced her hands over the taut skin, searching for pockets of air and pressing her fingertips in gently, coaxing up a few shallow burps that she could tell didn’t bring any relief to the blonde. Switching it up, she began to rub the sides of her belly, then slowly moved towards the center under her belly button. A few more burps. Using more pressure, Julie kneaded the bloat that puffed out over the seam of her lacy black panties.

“Careful, Jules! You’re gonna - urp - make me barf.” Alice let out a strained burp. Julie let up a bit, but continued kneading in an upwards motion towards the top of the girl's tummy, where it was the tightest. She felt, as well as heard, a thick gurgle that traveled up to Alice’s throat. An enormous belch erupted, one that momentarily shocked both women.

“Oh god, I needed that!” Alice breathed a sigh of relief. Julie giggled, looking pleased with herself, and playfully patted her girlfriend’s exposed belly. The relief was short lived though as another burp brought with it remnants from the blonde's unhealthy breakfast and she shot up in bed. She quickly swallowed it back down, then coughed to clear her throat. “Fuck…I just threw up in my mouth.”

“Just try to relax your abdominal muscles and take some deep breaths,” Julie instructed, planting a kiss on her partner's forehead.

“I’m actually - hic - not feeling so hot.” Alice burped again, this time covering her mouth with her hand.

“Do you need to throw up, love?”

“Y-Yeah, I think so. I just got really nauseous all of a sudden,” she admitted. Julie climbed off the bed and reached out her hands to help escort Alice to the bathroom.

Once she had her kneeling in front of the toilet, Alice’s stomach seemed to sense that it was time to hit the eject button, and a flood of mostly liquid made its way up and out with barely any effort.

“That’s it. Good girl,” Julie cooed, keeping the hair away from her face with one hand while she patted her back with the other. “Get it all up.”

There were a few more retches and another splash in the toilet bowl before she signaled that she was done. The young nurse wiped the snot and bile from her girlfriend's face with a wad of toilet paper, much to her displeasure, before reaching up to flush the offending contents down the drain.

“I’m not an invalid, ya know?” Alice frowned. “I can blow my own nose, Jules.”

“Hush, you,” the woman retorted while she continued to fuss over her. Although Alice acted tough, she could see the faintest hint of a smile on her face - a slight crack in her hard exterior shell. “Now let’s get you up off the floor and back to bed. You must be freezing.” Alice, who was still in a tank top and panties, nodded and let herself be enveloped in a warm hug before being led back to the bedroom.

[xheykyjx]

hot sick band bois <3

tw for pretty graphic depictions of puking ahead!! 🫶

“Shit, babe,” Cole hears Jasper mutter, and he turns around just in time to watch Oli vomit over the Target bag clenched in his hands. Cole winces sympathetically, reaching back to squeeze the top of Oli’s head in spite of the awkward angle. He feels bad that his boyfriend is feeling so shitty, but he’s also secretly glad that he called shotgun, even if it means he has to drive next. He deals with vomit just fine, but he’d also rather not end up with his own head out a window just because of the smell. 

“Do you think it was something you ate?” Jasper asks once Oli seems to be finished. He’s got one hand tucked up beneath Oli’s t-shirt, rubbing rhythmically at his spine. Oli spits into the bag, face as pale as a sheet, before he sits up enough to lean his head on Jasper’s shoulder. “I d’no,” he mumbles, closing his eyes. Cole, meanwhile, eyes the bag in his boyfriend’s hands warily. This is only the second time it’s been used, but if it breaks or overflows, Cole thinks he might throw himself out of the vehicle, so he turns around to look up the nearest gas station on his phone.

They pull over at the next stop, and it takes both Jasper and Cole to carefully maneuver their boyfriend out of the vehicle. Oli sits on the curb while Jasper disposes of the Target bag and disappears inside to grab a few things, and Cole sits up close next to his ailing boyfriend, rubbing his back and shoulders. 

Oli hiccups and burps, and Cole snorts. “Good one,” he jokes, and Oli attempts a laugh that sounds more like a grunt. “My stomach hurts.” At this, Cole turns his head enough to get a good look at his boyfriend’s face. He’s still incredibly pale, his eyes half-lidded and his arms curled over his middle. When he notices Cole staring at him, he lifts his head up enough to turn and face him fully. “Am I still pretty?” he asks, and Cole huffs a laugh in spite of the concern steadily growing within him. He’s seen Oli hungover, and motion sick, and after an adrenaline crash, and yet he’s still never looked so… so awful. Cole reaches up to push some of his hair out of his face, and Oli blinks sleepily at him. 

“Yeah,” Cole murmurs, tugging him back into his side and letting his head drop onto his shoulder. “You’re still pretty.” They sit like that for another minute or so until Jasper returns, toting another plastic bag. 

“I got some extra bags,” he says, shaking a fistful of thin plastic. “And I got you some stuff for your tummy, babe.” He crouches down, rifling through the bag, and a flutter of something warm and light sparks to life in Cole's stomach. There’s something so undeniably hot and adorable about Jasper taking care of Oli. It’s just another thing that Cole loves about him. 

Jasper pulls out a bottle of Pepto Bismol and pops open the cap. He offers the entire bottle to Oli, who makes a face but obediently takes it and swallows a generous sip. Cole could swear that his face somehow grows another shade paler, and he snakes a hand down to rest his palm on the warm expanse of Oli’s stomach over his shirt. 

“You’re okay, baby,” he soothes, rubbing little circles into Oli’s upset belly until the nauseated expression on his face finally disappears, leaving him just as exhausted-looking as before. Cole is beyond grateful that Oli is keeping the medicine down, even if it’s just for now. He’s hoping that even just a little bit in his system will help. 

“Ready to go?” Jasper asks, and Cole nods where Oli just offers a meek thumbs-up. 

---

By the time they’re finally rolling into LA, Oli is curled up across the backseat with his head in Cole's lap. Cole has a hand up against his boyfriend’s waist, laid flat against the feverish, gurgling side of Oli’s stomach. He was supposed to be on driving duty next, but after a while Oli began to tearfully complain that his bellyache wasn’t going away and Cole and Jasper unanimously decided that it was Cole's turn to caretake. 

Oli’s stomach grumbles beneath his hand and Cole purses his lips sympathetically, eyeing Oli carefully. He appears to be asleep still, face hidden in Cole's stomach, but he's starting to get the foreboding feeling that something not-so-pleasant is about to happen.

[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.” 

[hae-meto]

My OC throwing up ✨ (roughly translated)

His bro keeping him company 🫠

[dontopenfairies]

“I had an accident.”

“Aww. Come here.” I take him in my arms. “How much did you go?”

“Kind of a lot,” he says over my shoulder. His voice is scratchy and sniffly.

“Don’t cry. That’s what diapers are for. It’s okay.” He starts to sob. “Aw, baby, I didn’t mean to make it worse. I’m sorry.”

“I f-feel s-so s-stupid,” he chokes out between sobs.

“It’s okay. It’s okay to go pee in your pants sometimes. Look, you’ve barely had any accidents this month. You’re fine. It’s okay, honey.”

He’s sobbing louder, letting out wails between gasping breaths.

“Oh my gosh, it’s okay. Shhh, shhh, shh.” I try to rock him a little, squeezing him tight.

His sobs start to turn dark and throaty. “Baby, you’re going to make yourself throw up. Calm down.”

He wretches over my shoulder and it triggers a reflex in my body; I leap to my feet and push him into the bathroom. He doesn’t make it in the toilet, vomit splattering on the floor.

After the clean-up, I hold him in my lap. “Baby, it wasn’t that serious. The doctor said you were going to have accidents for a little while. It’s going to happen. It’s okay. Please don’t make yourself sick again.”

He curls up tighter in my lap, thumb in his mouth. He doesn’t answer or look at me.

“Are you okay? Can I hear you say that you’re okay?”

“‘M okay,” he murmurs around his thumb.

“Good boy,” I say. “You’re gonna be okay.”

[secretobsessionstuff]

Hi hi, I love your work :D Never really got the nerve to send an ask in to say that tbh. If you don't mind, I have a request for a scenario you could possibly do B) No pressure though!! (If you do end up writing this I don't have a preference for any specific characters, but I'm soft for male characters.)

I'm so soft for scenes where a character is sick, but whoever they tell just don't believe them. I'm also soft for when a character coughs hard enough to get sick. If possible could you write something combining those? Or even just one or the other would be great too!! Thanks :D

Thank you for the request and the kind words!! I'm going with the first option because I too am soft for disbelieving caretakers.

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

Shawn was a man of culture. In the Canadian museum of history, he thoroughly admired every bench, chair, and sofa with his scholarly behind. The current gallery boasted an impressive collection of fucking postage stamps. Shawn dropped his head into his hands with an exaggerated huff. Kill me now.

A mass of whining school children flocked past him, not giving a second thought to the pale and lifeless man lounging on the bench. His boyfriend was lost somewhere in the sea of families and tour groups, probably admiring the royal collection of [redacted]. Shawn didn’t care anymore. He wanted to go back to the Airbnb. 

“Are you going to sulk the entire time?” Mateo had asked as the two of them received their admission tickets. 

“I’m not sulking,” Shawn sulked.  

“Yeah, okay.” Mateo walked further on ahead, determined to enjoy the one event he had specifically requested. “I just wish you would get excited over things I care about.” 

Shawn scrunched his eyes up tight, tired of hearing this. “Hon, you know I care.” His voice was weepy with an edge of annoyance. “I told you, I’m just not feeling up to this.” 

“I recall,” Mateo said, not looking back. “Your malaise came on at such a convenient time.” 

It wasn’t Shawn’s fault that his stomach decided to reject breakfast at precisely that time. He couldn’t control the churning in his gut. The eggs and hashbrowns he had eaten earlier floated in a bath of grease in his belly. He swore he could hear the chirping of baby chicks that did not appreciate being digested. They cried out in his stomach, cursing him for scrambling their potential lives. 

A growing pocket of air forced Shawn into a sitting position. As he straightened his spine, the burp easily rose in his chest. The belch filled his mouth with the taste of sulphur, making him shiver. For the next ten minutes, he concentrated on settling his stomach. He was so lost in thoughts of nausea and discomfort that he did not notice Mateo had approached him. 

“Onto the next exhibit, then.” Mateo waited for Shawn to get up. He seemed almost nonchalant, but underneath it was a longing to experience the museum with his boyfriend. He wanted to hold Shawn’s hand as they walked through the halls. Unfortunately, Shawn kept his hands in his pockets and his head tucked into his neck. “I’m sorry the morning is boring for you. I promise we’ll do something fun later.” 

“I’m not bored, Teo,” Shawn mumbled in between burps. He pressed his fist into his mouth, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. “This isn’t my first choice of activity, but I really do want you to enjoy it.” 

Mateo swung his hand at his side, purposefully touching his boyfriend’s arm. “I want to enjoy it with you.” 

“I know.” He smiled sadly. “But I am honestly feeling…Just blah.” 

“Blah?” 

“Blahughuh, in fact.” Shawn forced a smirk that didn’t stick because he felt a ripple of nausea move through his belly. “It’s just my stomach—it’s so gurgly and full.” 

“Maybe it will settle down after one more exhibit.” 

“Maybe.” 

“Well, then you will definitely start feeling better after two more exhibits.” 

“…Mateo.” 

“What?” Mateo said playfully, still not totally taking his boyfriend seriously. “Give it two more exhibits. Your stomach probably just needs time to digest. If you still feel bad after that, then we’ll leave.” 

Shawn did not think that was a good idea, but he let his boyfriend run ahead to the next gallery. He lagged behind like a parent watching their child enjoy themselves. He would have smiled at the way Mateo absorbed himself in the history and culture that so many people dismissed, but a smile would not come to his lips. He kept his mouth pressed into a hard line to keep the nausea at bay. 

Something was horribly wrong in his stomach. The queasiness made his throat feel like it was blocked by a lump of clay. How long was Mateo going to take? Shawn didn’t know how much longer he could last. He walked at a zombie-like pace through the gallery, keeping a hand on his bloated middle. Something squirmed beneath his palm. He imagined bright yellow worms, the colour of scrambled eggs, writhing in his belly. 

Saliva filled his mouth, flooding his tongue with a warm, uncomfortable feeling. Fuck, where was Mateo? Shawn staggered about, feeling his jaw grow heavy. His whole body was telling him to get out of there. 

He found his boyfriend in the corner of the exhibit, reading an informational poster on the wall next to colourful minerals. 

“Teo?” he said after swallowing thickly. The mouthful of thick saliva came right back. “I want to leave now.” 

“Fine.” Mateo sighed, not yet looking at Shawn. “Give me two minutes.” 

Shawn whimpered. He did not have two minutes. His belly gave him two seconds after belching wetly into his hand before it forced its contents up his throat. He braced himself on the wall as a deep retch overtook him. 

Sludgy vomit fell past his lips, splattering on the floor with a wet squelching sound. Nearby people gasped and quickly deserted the area. Shawn put another hand against the wall as his back arched again. There was no stopping this now that it started. 

“Whoa shit,” Mateo said, quickly turning around to take in the sight of his heaving boyfriend. A puddle of pale brown chunks had formed at Shawn’s feet. He placed a gentle hand between Shawn’s shoulder blades. “Oh babes, I’m so sorry.” 

Shawn wanted to say something acidic, but his mouth was again filled with chunky sick. He parted his lips to let the rush of vomit join the growing mess. His poor belly gurgled and constricted. Tears clouded Shawn’s vision. He couldn’t stop the flood from coming. Everything had to come up. 

“Ugh, I can’t stop.” Shawn gagged. He sniffled and wiped at his face before the second gag proved productive. More of the bitter tasting crap came up from the burbling pit of his belly. A sob broke free in between bouts. Drool and snot hung from his chin. 

Mateo’s heart squeezed in his chest. “Shh, Shawn, babe. It’ll be over soon.” 

These cooing words did not fix anything. It did not stop Shawn from gagging, nor did it ease the ache in Mateo’s chest. The mess on the floor was his fault. The sobbing mess of a man was also his fault. None of this would have happened if Mateo had listened the first time. They could have been in a private area, probably curled up in each other’s lap, but no. He decided to prolong his boyfriend’s suffering. 

Finally, Shawn coughed and cleared his throat. His chest rose rapidly in attempt to take in more air. “Ugh God.” The words glued to his throat, coming out wet and thick. “That fucking sucked. I feel disgusting.” 

Mateo rubbed his boyfriend’s shaking back. “Come on. Let’s clean you up in the bathroom.” 

They turned around to find a janitor wheeling a mop bucket in their direction. Shawn’s face turned red, and he allowed himself to be ushered away by Mateo. He pushed the embarrassment deep down and clung to his boyfriend for good measure. 

“So, this is what Blahughuh means,” Mateo said while he wiped Shawn’s face with a wet paper towel. 

Shawn hiccupped and mumbled, “I thought I made myself pretty clear.” 

“You did. I’m sorry.” Mateo rubbed his thumb softly over Shawn’s cheek. “I should have taken you more seriously.” 

“Yeah, I shouldn’t need to puke everywhere for you to listen.” Shawn winced at the spasm that went through his belly. “I might need to go again.” 

Mateo raised his eyebrows in surprise. “What did you do to your poor stomach? Did that breakfast place poison you?” 

“That’s a very possible…possibility.”

Mateo pouted at his grey-ish looking boyfriend. He kissed his forehead. “Time to go. I'll get you a bag for the car.” 

“Five more minutes?” 

Mateo smacked his arm. “Stop, I hate myself.” 

[tummysick]

Because we desperately need wlw sickfics, I wrote one. Here's Part 1: Emily

When her friend Allison had suggested going to a party, Emily had been pretty reluctant, but she told herself that as a college freshman, she couldn’t afford to turn down any opportunities to get out there and maybe go from having one friend to friends plural. And even though she tried to push it out of her mind, she kept returning to the fantasy of meeting a girl. Shy smiles, laughing, holding hands, maybe even kissing….

Emily hadn’t come out during high school. She’d told her best friend Allison, who’d been really great about it, but high school had been brutal in so many ways, and she’d wanted to wait for a fresh start. Her fingers shook as she pinned a lesbian pride pin to her denim jacket.  Her phone lit up with a text letting her know Allison was outside, so she took a deep breath and stepped out.

Now, standing in a cramped hallway with music so loud it made her body shake, she was really regretting it. She was so anxious. Her stomach was in knots; it was way too hot, and she’d immediately lost Allison in the sea of people. She squeezed herself from room to room really regretting the jacket. Where the fuck did Allie go? She made her way into the kitchen and started scanning the room. Her eyes landed on a table covered in a wide selection of alcohol. Emily had gotten tipsy once when Allison had managed to get her older brother to buy them a bottle of white wine. Two glasses in, and they’d sat in the park laughing and warm and talkative. Talkative. That’s what she needed, something to loosen her up. She poured herself a classic red party cup of punch on the table and pounded it. Then another. Come on one more. She’d almost chugged all of the third glass when the taste of the alcohol made her gag. She had no clue what was in it, but it was strong. Ew, okay, hopefully, it’ll kick in soon and make this party tolerable. 

She headed off to find Allison and finally spotted her. Oh my god, of course. Allison had pointed out this guy to Emily several times over the last two weeks. He was French, tall, and athletic, and Allison was glowing as they spoke. Allison caught her eye and waved. Her face was embarrassed and apologetic but switched to super grateful when she saw Emily laugh and wink at her. Her eyes said I owe you one. Emily laughed again. She really wanted this to go well for Allison. If she was battling bad anxiety, it might have gotten to her, but she felt confident knowing the alcohol would be working any minute. Okay, it is way too warm here. She needed to get her jacket off; its heat was suffocating her. She found an empty seat in the corner of the living room and took it off. It's still SO hot, ugh. Suddenly, the heat spiked and then turned to ice. A prickling sensation shivered down her back to the tips of her fingers. Great, the anxiety is back with a vengeance, she thought as her stomach tightened. She took a deep breath and tried closing her eyes for some deep breathing. However, as soon as she did, she felt the room rock like she was on a boat. Fuck this isn't anxiety. Okay, okay, just breathe, Emily. Shit. 

Emily hadn’t thrown up for years. She remembered a stomach bug in 5th grade and then puking after chugging coffee on an empty stomach during her freshman year of high school. It was a rare occurrence, and in general, she almost never felt nauseous. The sensation was foreign, but there was no denying that's what was happening now. She needed to get out of here; the bathroom wasn't that far. There's no way I'll actually get sick. I just need to escape this noise and splash some water on my face. It'll be fine. I just need to get out of here. Emily's stomach burned. The punch she’d chugged felt foreign and unwelcome--toxic and corrosive. She wanted it gone so badly, but Emily was determined not to get sick. The nausea spiked abruptly, causing her to stand, panicked. The sudden motion of scrambling to her feet made the alcohol slosh in her stomach. Her heart raced, and her body felt jostled from every angle by the music, heat waves, nausea, and dizziness. She tried to stumble towards the bathroom, but the movement reduced the room to a dizzying blur. Her legs buckled, and Emily slid to the ground panting and utterly humiliated  No no no. Not here. Not at a party. No no no no. She inhaled sharply to let out a sob, but the gasp of air caught in her throat as her body lurched forward, a violent stream of puke erupting from her stomach. She started to cough, her throat on fire, but almost immediately gagged hard and expelled another torrent of soured punch. Then another. And another.

 “Ewwww, she's puking.” Sounds of disgust rang across the room as people scrambled to leave the living room. This couldn't possibly be more humiliating. She needed to get to the bathroom; the nausea was rapidly returning, and Emily knew her stomach was somehow not yet empty. 

Emily felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. The hand belonged to a girl with shoulder-length brown curls, caramel skin, hazel eyes, and a button nose sprinkled with freckles. Her eyebrows were furrowed with care and concern. “Hey, hey. I got you. Come here.”  The girl reached out a hand, and Emily took it and pulled herself up. Immediately, dizziness overtook her, and she flopped against the girl. “Oh, poor baby. Hey, it's okay. Let's get you out of here.” Somehow, she effortlessly pulled Emily into her arms, guiding each leg to wrap around her. Emily let herself cling to this stranger, her arms clutching the girl's shoulders, and began to sob into her neck. “It's okay. The bathroom is right down the hall. Hold on.” Swiftly, the girl carried Emily into the bathroom and gently guided her to lean against the cool tile wall.

@bellysoupset I remember you saying a while back for people to tag you if they started writing? You're an inspiration <333

[shion-yu]

Day 1: "I'm not hungover, I'm just sick."

@sicktember 2024 here we go! 1,254 words. CW emeto, friends with benefits, depression. I'm so excited to share these stories with you guys. They'll feature a mix of my OCs, long and short. This one features Phoenix, Cliff's law school roommate/shitty friend with benefits. A particularly angsty start to the month, but I promise Day 2 is way happier.

Spring break was a time for many of the students at NYU Law to get belligerently drunk. This was certainly true for Phoenix, Cliff's roommate. It was early Monday when Phoenix came home for the first time since Friday night stinking of stale clothes, alcohol and smoke. Cliff could smell him as soon as he barged into their shared bathroom without knocking, the odor sending him back over the toilet to gag where he'd already been vomiting for most of the night. Phoenix nearly stepped on him and Cliff stuck an arm out to stop him from doing so.

"Woah!" Phoenix exclaimed in surprise, clearly not expecting to find Cliff on the bathroom floor. "The hell are you doing down there, Cliffy?"

Cliff lifted his head from the toilet bowl to look at him in annoyance. His eyes were red and swollen, his cheeks streaked with dried tears. "What's it look like?" He rasped, wincing as speaking felt like sandpaper against his throat after a night of vomiting. "And I told you to stop calling me that."

Naturally, Phoenix ignored the request. He always would, and Cliff knew it. Even if he explained to Phoenix the reason he didn't want to be called that - because it was the name he had first called him - Phoenix wouldn't have cared. "I didn't think you wanted to go out this weekend,” Phoenix said. His voice sounded too cheerful for 3 AM on a Monday.

"I didn't go out," Cliff said, weakly hoisting himself to his feet. His legs shook with the effort and he grabbed onto the sink to keep from falling.

"Still hungover from Saturday, then? You should've come with me to Rita's," Phoenix said, grinning. "It was a great night."

Cliff scowled and pushed past Phoenix at the door. He would rather gag into the trashcan in his bedroom then put up with this. "I'm not hungover, I'm just sick," Cliff growled before losing his balance. He would have cracked his head on the doorframe if Phoenix hadn't caught him, a strong and muscular arm around Cliff’s too-thin waist.

"Woah, steady now," Phoenix said, his voice finally growing a touch concerned. "You're sick again? Shit, you're hot as fuck Cliffy. And I don't mean in a sexy way."

"Thanks, I knew what you meant," Cliff snapped, stumbling backwards to lean on the wall instead of continuing to rely on Phoenix’s support. "Leave me alone. I'll sleep it off." 

Phoenix crossed his arms indignantly. "What, you don't want me to take care of you? Fine. Not like I wanted to."

Cliff groaned. "That's not what I - ugh," Cliff stumbled again, breathing heavily. He was so goddamn dizzy. He was probably dehydrated; he hadn't been able to keep anything down since Saturday night. 

He felt Phoenix's cold hands grasp his face on either side. "Alright, don't fall over. Let's get you to bed. You're lucky I'm so nice," Phoenix said. 

Nice. Right. Nice was the last thing Cliff would use to describe his roommate. Nevertheless, he was at the mercy of Phoenix and let the taller man lead him to bed. "Phoenix, wait-" Cliff muttered as Phoenix moved all too quickly, but he was ignored and tossed onto the mattress anyways. The sharp movement made Cliff’s vertigo peak. The only reason he didn't vomit on his duvet was the complete lack of anything left in his stomach.

"Alright, what else do you need?" Phoenix asked. "Want your oxy? I could use one too, my head's killing me."

"No," Cliff said, knowing Phoenix was going to help himself to the narcotics anyways. It seemed to be Phoenix's favorite way to sleep off a weekend long bender, and while Phoenix had plenty of funds for recreational drugs there was a marked lack of risk when he simply took Cliff's. Cliff had an inkling that it was one of the only reasons Phoenix kept him around. That and perhaps because Cliff never tried to give Phoenix any reason to do better. He wasn’t Phoenix’s boyfriend, or even his friend. He was just a roommate, who sometimes was convenient for Phoenix to let off some steam with when Cliff let him. When Phoenix had his way with him, Cliff would pretend it was someone else. That fantasy was always short lived, because Phoenix was never gentle, unlike the person Cliff really ached to be with. 

Phoenix went to the kitchen and came back with a cold bottle of water. "Trade," he said, nabbing one of Cliff's pills with a little grin that made Cliff hate him. "Sleep tight, Cliffy," Phoenix said, then left Cliff's room.

Cliff slowly changed into clean pajamas, the ones he'd been wearing dirty from hours of sweating and vomiting through a night on the bathroom floor. Even changing clothes wasn't an easy task anymore, not since his diagnosis with sarcoidosis last year. He felt so sick - practically every day now. He dragged himself through classes at law school, barely keeping up his attendance enough to pass. His grades were terrible, nothing like his near-perfect LSAT score would have predicted. Every day he felt like a disappointment to himself, to his parents, and to...

He couldn't think about it anymore lest he start crying. And once he started, it would be too hard to stop: that he knew from experience. His empty stomach cramped painfully and Cliff groaned, curling in on himself. Ever since his stomach ulcer - and the breakup - he hadn't really been okay. Whether that had more to do with the stomach ulcer itself or the situation surrounding it, Cliff wasn't sure. He'd been diagnosed with sarcoidosis a few months after it all went down, but in a way very little had changed even with medications. He was still sick, nauseous and miserable all the time - he just had a name for it now. A name and a million pills he had to take daily to apparently keep him alive. He thought about simply getting rid of all of them more often than he would ever admit. 

Cliff pressed his burning face into the pillow, making long noises of discomfort with each exhale as he tried to get himself together. Minutes and hours blurred together as he lay there until he had no idea what time it was, or if it was 8AM yet and he was supposed to be in class.

Phoenix came into his bedroom at one point and gave Cliff some water that made Cliff cough and splutter. As much as Cliff hated Phoenix at times, he always showed back up in the end. Mostly when he wanted something in return, but sometimes, at moments like this, Cliff could pretend Phoenix actually cared. When Phoenix wrapped himself around Cliff, spooning him and telling Cliff he’d feel better later, Cliff would wonder if maybe there was something there after all.

“Don’t go,” Cliff heard himself whimper when Phoenix moved to leave him. The tears that sprang to his eyes were the most pathetic thing of all. “Stay.”

“I’ll check on you later,” was the response he got. Cliff knew the random burst of affection was over then, and Phoenix was gone. Cliff rolled over and cried. He missed Elliot. He missed how Elliot cared about Cliff so much that Cliff hadn’t been able to handle it. Even when Cliff was sick, or angry, or weak. He missed the words that used to make him freeze because he didn’t know how to return them. But it was too late to get that all back, now.

[sickly-qt]

A Day in the Life of Drew

This is what I meant when I said I still have some suffering for Drew coming up.

There will most definitely be a part 2 of this coming up!

I posted this from my phone so if anything looks wonky that’s why ✨

~~~~~

Anyone that ever said pregnancy is a blessing, that you feel like the epitome of femininity, that it makes you glow… is a massive liar.

Drew looked at herself in the mirror, her eyes sunken and bloodshot, her face paler than she is normally. Pregnancy glow her ass.

She took a deep breath in through her nose and out through her mouth trying to keep her nausea at bay. She knew it was futile but she felt like she had to try, one of these times it would work. This time wasn’t it.

She didn’t even bother trying to make it to the toilet, knowing that she was only going to puke up water and bile. She was still bent over the bathroom sink when Finn came in, shirtless and half asleep. He sat a glass of water on the sink next to Drew’s hand.

“You okay?” he asked groggily.

Drew nodded, “I didn’t mean to wake you up… What time is it?”

Finn shrugged, wrapping his arms around her waist and laying his head on her back. “Around 5:30 I think.” She melted into his warmth, his breathing rustling her hair.

“So about 2 more hours until you have to get ready for work?”

“Mhmm,” he nodded against her back.

“Can we lay down? I just- I want to be with you.”

Drew rinsed out her mouth and turned to face Finn, forcing him to stand up and laid her head against his chest.

“Can you drink some water for me first?” He asked quietly, picking up the glass from the sink.

She whined, but lifted her head, taking the glass from him and taking a couple sips.

“Now we can go lay down.”

Knocking out as soon as she hit the bed was one of Drew’s newfound talents that came with being pregnant. When she woke up Finn was gone and light was coming in through the cracks of her curtains.

She stretched and groaned, rolling to the side to check her phone.

Nothing, per the usual.

She was hungry which she knew was a cruel ruse her body did to trick her into eating something to throw up later.

Still, she padded her way out to the kitchen and made herself some maple and brown sugar oatmeal, the only thing she can manage to keep down about 50% of the time.

There was a sticky note on the counter with Finn’s scrawling handwriting.

“I’ll be home a little late tonight, order some of your favorite takeout for dinner, I love you.

She smiled and scoffed a bit that he thought she would get anything for dinner with how she’s been feeling lately, then stuck it on the fridge with all the rest of the notes he leaves for her in the morning.

She got changed and stared at herself in the mirror for way too long trying to decide if she was starting to show. Logically, she knew that she had been losing weight. Logically, she knew she probably wasn’t far enough along to be showing yet, she didn’t know how far along she was at all. She had an appointment later that week to figure all that out. But logic was the last thing on her mind and for now she just stared at her stomach as if she were waiting for an alien to burst out of it. She pulled on one of Finn’s t-shirts that almost fully covered the bike shorts she was wearing and then walked down to the coffee shop to get her one decaf she was allowed a day. Usually it was the highlight of her morning but today the smell made her nauseous and her coffee sat on the counter untouched as she retched up her breakfast down the hall.

When she was finished and thoroughly miserable she walked back out to the kitchen, gagging as she dumped her coffee down the drain, leading to a round of dry heaving over the sink.

She got herself a cup of water and collapsed onto the couch, taking small sips that settled heavily in her stomach.

Today was going to be a long day.

~~~

When Finn got home he was surprised to see that the apartment was dim, only the lamp in the living room on, the TV was in sleep mode, rainbow starbursts appearing across the screen from sitting paused for so long.

“Drew?” He called softly then headed down the hall to check the bedroom for her. He had to double back when he caught her in the corner of his eye.

“Hey, Love.” Finn said, sympathy painted all over his face, “How long have you been in here?”

Drew shrugged, looking up at him through heavy lidded eyes from where she sat on the bathroom floor.

“It’s been a really rough day.” She said, barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry, Baby. When was the last time you had some water?” Finn stepped into the bathroom and knelt down, trying to get a better look at her.

She shrugged again and her eyes went to an empty water bottle at her side, “It just comes back up.” she mumbled, “Your kid is trying to kill me.”

Finn sighed and took her water bottle, refilling it and bringing it back to coax a couple of sips into her.

“It’ll help you feel better love, promise. Then you can curl up in bed okay?” He cooed, when she turned her nose to the water. He was able to get her to drink a bit before helping her up off the floor. As soon as she was on her feet she swayed, her eyes closing tight and her hand going to her head.

“It hurts.” She whined.

“Yeah, I know, you’re scary dehydrated Love. We just have to get some water in you and then lay down and you’ll be feeling good as new.” Finn said, steadying her.

Drew’s eyes were still screwed shut when her frame was wracked with a gag and her hand shifted from her temple to her mouth and she gagged again.

“You’re okay.” Finn muttered, continuing to steady her as she dove for the sink. She coughed up what appeared to be straight water and continued to dry heave long after she had stopped bringing anything up.

After she was done, Finn watched, as all the color that was left in her face drained and her eyes rolled into the back of her head.

“Shit, Drew!” He yelped, jumping forward to catch her as her knees buckled. “Okay,” He scooped her up, one hand behind her back and the other under her knees. Her weight in his arms hid the fact that he was vibrating with anxiety. “E.R. We’re going to the E.R.”