#emeto sickfix

[emeto-vibes]

My stomach hurts (part 1)

Sickie: Ash Caretaker: Vivian  Emeto, nausea, belly rubs

Both of them are 21 in this fix. 

Pov: Vivian (Ash’ girlfriend)  He had called me twice even before I got back from work this afternoon, and even though this was not extremely unusual with his lack of patience this time I wondered if something more might be wrong. In the parking lot I pried the hair tie out of my hair to let lose the ponytail my boss required me to wear during work hours, while with the other hand I texted something to Ash.

Vivian: Hi, I’m just done with work, are you alright?

It took only seconds before I saw the bubbles that indicated that he was typing, I waited for his reply before starting the car.

Ash: My stomach hurts..

Ash: like really bad

I sucked in my lip as I stared at my phone. He never texted me stuff like this, always being more private about everything going on inside of him, emotionally or physically. So this must mean it was really bad. My heart sped up slightly as I texted him back, feeing both nervous and excited to possibly be able to be there for him.

Vivian: Do you want me to come over?

Ash: You don’t have to. I’ll be fine.

He typed a few times again after his message but I didn’t get another reply. Doubting I weighed my options, I could go by and leave if he didn’t want me to be there, but in that case I would have to drive at least an hour extra before I could go home. Or I could go home, leaving him to his own shit hoping he would be fine tomorrow. I didn’t want to fight with him over this, but going home after him reaching out about something felt wrong. I called him, the dial tone sounded three times after which he picked up. His voice hoarse as he spoke. ‘Hi, what’s up?’ I smiled a little, ‘Nothing, just wondering if you really are as fine as you claim to be?’

All I heard was his breathing for a few seconds after which he replied, ‘Yeah, yeah I think I’m good-,’ his sentence cut off only to be followed by something that sounded like a suppressed groan.

‘Ash?’

‘Yes?’

‘Will you please let me come over?’

He groaned again, this time in annoyance rather than discomfort, but I knew I’d already won.

‘Sure, but it’s nothing okay. I’m fine.’

‘Hmm hmm, you’re always fine. I’ll see for myself when I get there. Be there in 20 minutes.’

The road was packed, and I was annoyed, worry gnawed in my gut as I sped through different streets to escape the traffic jams on the main road. The gps was barely able to keep up with my impulsive route decisions. It took me 26 minutes before I reached his apartment, and at this point my nerves were almost unbearable. It was ridiculous for me to be so upset about something so small, but his newfound vulnerability left me a bit insecure about the whole situation. I let myself in the apartment with my own key, shutting the door softly before calling out his name. ‘Ash?!’

He appeared in the hallway, wearing a grey hoodie and black shorts.

‘Hi,’ I whispered, unsure in how to approach him. He looked so delicate, his pale skin even paler than usual, the circles under his eyes an even deeper shade of purple, as he moved I could see how his legs trembled with the effort of standing there. He didn’t say anything back, just stared at me with unfocused eyes. ‘For how long have you been like this?’ I asked as I stepped closer, shoving his dark hair out of his face to feel the skin of his forehead. He leaned into me immediately, moaning softly at the gentle touch.

‘A few hours,’ he replied, shrugging as I concluded he wasn’t feverish.

‘Okay,’ I carefully let go of him again, shrugging off my coat and hanging it before leading him into the living room. The living room was a dark space that connected to the kitchen, a black leather couch stood across of a tv in the living area, on the glass table in front of it was an empty ashtray and a glass of water. Ash walked towards the kitchen, pulling open a cabinet to retrieve another glass. ‘Can I offer you something to drink? Do you want to eat anything? You just came back from work, you must be hungry.’

‘Ash! Stop that. I can take care of myself.’ I blurt out angrily.

He just looked at me, lowering the glass to the countertop and turning to open the fridge. Without looking back to me he retrieved my favorite soda and poured the glass full of the fizzy drink. It was only when he put back the bottle in the fridge that he flinched slightly. His face scrunching up as one of his hands fled to his stomach. I sped towards him, shoving him aside to put the bottle back, and turned to face him. ‘Are you alright?’ He nodded, swallowing thickly.

‘Liar,’ I called out to him.

He frowned and shrunk as again his stomach seemed to be cramping.  

‘Do you have a hot water bottle?’ I asked him He shook his head.

‘Okay, let’s at least get you to the couch then.’

He didn’t complain, no verbal or non-verbal disagreement, and I grabbed him by the arm gently to guide him to the couch safely. He slouched down immediately, resting his hands on his stomach.

‘Ok, done with the bullshit now.’ I told him, ‘I need more info out of your big boy mouth, rather than the play-pretend stuff, because I cannot help you if you keep that up and we both know you’re lying so it’s also just really stupid.’

He smirked, eyes suddenly a bit sparkly as he finally really looked at me. ‘Sorry.’ He said, finally sounding like himself again, his voice lower and more secure. “I don’t know what’s wrong. I didn’t eat anything weird that I can think of, but woke up with this horrible stomach ache. It’s only getting worse,”- again his sentence got cut off, but this time he looked away as he burped softly. I stared at his Adams apple as he swallowed a few times before he looked back at me.

“Only a stomach ache?” I asked, gaze flickering to where the fabric of the sweatshirt folded over his stomach.

“Nausea too,” He said, swallowing thickly again. “But in moments. Nothing is coming up anyway.” With a sigh he leaned back even further into the couch, as if everything was too tiring now that he’d been honest with me.

“Can I come sit next to you?” I asked carefully.

He nodded, seeming even paler than minutes before.

“Let me get a bucket first.” I suggested, leaving him alone on the couch for another minute to retrieve the dark-blue plastic bucket from its place by the sink. Filling it with a tiny bit of water and soap before I returned, I placed the bucket on the glass table before nestling next to him.

He moaned in agreement, nuzzling his face against my shoulder, “Could you, maybe, uh?”

“Hm?” I asked, knowing what he was asking for, but amused by his inability to say it.

Instead of answering he just grabbed my hand and placed it on his belly. Groaning immediately at the touch. I smiled and kissed his cheek, “Try to relax, you’re doing good.”

With my hand on his sweatshirt, I carefully rubbed a few circles, testing the waters before slipping up the shirt to get access to his bare skin. It was warm, and surprisingly soft considered its bloated state, with each gently circle I could feel bubbles beneath my palm. Ash at this point was basically curled against me, moaning and hiccupping softly every now and then, but seemingly content. I cupped the underside of his normally very flat belly and put my other hand on top of the bulge, slowly moving on to the sides, using my thumbs to press bubbly spots hoping to maybe pass some gas to release the ache a bit. It brought up a few tiny burps until he suddenly stiffened and pulled back from me, “Bucket!” he exclaimed.

Hastily I grabbed the bucket and put it in his lap. Immediately a longer burp escaped him, echoing into the bucket, he cringed and spat a few times, long threads of drool dripping from his open lips. Gently I tried to get his hair out of his face, it was not quite long enough to get covered in puke, but the strands stuck to his sweaty skin and covered his eyes. With my hair tie I created something to prevent this. “It hurts so bad” He whined, and I shifted to get my hand back on his exposed skin just in time to feel the way his stomach contracted as he retched unsuccessfully. “I got you baby, you’re doing good.” Another empty retch left him panting as he cursed into the bucket. Again I broke loose from him, this time to retrieve the glass of water standing on the table in front of us. “Drink this,” I ordered, taking the bucket from him to hand him the full glass.

“I can’t,” he replied, looking at me with big eyes. Still he took the glass from me and set it to his lips. If he struggled with downing the water, it didn’t show, because in less than twenty seconds the water was gone. His lips curving into a little smile as he handed me the glass and I returned the bucket to him. A long burp rolled out of him, ending in a gag, his tongue sticking out over his lips just slightly as he leaned over the bucket. His stomach cramped again and he cursed as I gently pushed into the soft skin. Carefully he sat back up, rolling up the sleeve of his shirt before inserting two fingers into his mouth. He leaned forward, retching as his fingers reached the back of his tongue. Thrusting deeper his face turned red as another retch tore through him. It worked, watery puke sprayed around his hand into the bucket and onto his legs, he thrusted his hand back again, causing another wave of liquid to hit the bucket. “There you go,” I said, gently rubbing his back and belly.

He nodded, holding the soiled hand over the bucket as he brought up another gush of puke. Thicker this time. Orange, fool smelling vomit pooled into the bucket, leaving him tear eyed.  

After that it was done, heavily breathing Ash looked away from the mess. Only spitting into the bucket a few more times after putting it away onto the table. “Done?’ I asked.

“For now.” He replied, leaning back against me as he caught his breath.

“Hmm, okay.” I touched his cheek gently before placing a little kiss on his forehead.

“Sorry,” He spoke suddenly, sitting up a bit again.

“What for?”

“For all of this,” he gestured around the room, gaze once again focused on the floor.

I pulled him closer to me, “You’re sick, no need to say sorry for that.”

“Okay,” He mumbled, “Can we sleep now.”

“Yes we can go to sleep now,” I said, stroking his hair as his breathing slowed.

[zoinksboy]

@lovenourished & I were headcanoning some sicknarios about emetophobic Shaggy & they are just So Good, so obviously I had to share them!!!

1- Velma's mom driving 9 year-old Shaggy home after a playdate & he starts getting carsick & she notices & pulls over to help him calm down (bc he's very emetophobic at this point) & Velma crawls into the front seat to hug him & he cries that he doesn't wanna go home

2- Shaggy gets sick at school & the nurse knows to call Velma's mom to pick him up bc she knows his own mom will just say he's faking & refuse to come get him (his parents were always mean to him when he was sick)... & then him sitting in the backseat of the car with Velma & puking into a bag

3- the Dinkleys let him stay at their house while he's so sick so that he doesn't have to deal with his mom & Velma just lets him use her bed & she sits there rubbing his tummy & reading a book while he tries to sleep <3