ong i adore saylor! i’d love to see a sickfic of her soon but i don’t have any specific request ideas haha i loved the new story!
ask and you shall receive!
i adore these two! they have such a fun relationship dynamic to play with.
if you have any questions, comments, or requests, send them my way!
tw emeto, nausea, scat (as a symptom), affectionate bullying, fever, implications/mentions of a recurring health issue
The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the courtyard where Saylor was hard at work on her latest mural for the school.
Her hands moved easily, the spray paint can hissing as vibrant colors came to life on the wall. The mural, a swirling mix of abstract shapes and bold lines, was already drawing admiring glances from passersby.
Saylor had been asked by the school to complete this mural. To fix the boring, empty wall in the courtyard before someone else got their hands on it and did who knew what with it.
Julian stood nearby, watching Saylor with a mix of awe and admiration.
“That looks incredible, Saylor," he said, flipping through his own sketchbook, "You've outdone yourself this time."
Saylor grinned, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. "Thanks, Jules. I'm really feeling this one."
As she continued to work, a sudden wave of nausea hit her, causing her to pause mid-spray.
She frowned, pressing a hand to her stomach. Beneath her hand, she felt something. Gurgling, bubbling, something uncomfortable.
“That's weird," she muttered under her breath.
Julian noticed her discomfort immediately. "Hey, you okay?" he asked, stepping closer. "You look a little pale."
Saylor shrugged it off, trying to focus on the mural. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's probably just the paint fumes getting to me. Plus it’s hot…”
Julian's concern deepened. "Maybe we should take a break. Get some fresh air and grab something to eat. You haven't eaten since breakfast, right?"
Saylor hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah, you're probably right. A break sounds good."
They put the paint cans up against the wall and headed towards the campus café. The walk was short, but Saylor couldn't shake the uneasy feeling in her stomach.
At the café, they found a quiet corner and ordered their meals. Saylor chose a simple sandwich and a side of fruit, while Julian opted for a salad and a smoothie.
They chatted casually as they waited for their food, Julian doing his best to keep the conversation light and distracting.
"So, I heard Ethan's been avoiding the art building since his little 'incident,'" Julian said with a smirk. "Seems like he's embarrassed to show his face."
Saylor chuckled, though it was a bit forced. "Serves him right. Maybe he'll finally stop acting like he's better than everyone else."
Their food arrived, and Saylor took a tentative bite of her sandwich. She felt fine. In fact, swallowing the bite made her stomach growl, and she was almost sure it was just that she was hungry. Her stomach felt… better? She couldn’t tell.
They finished their meal, Julian doing most of the talking while Saylor listened, grateful for the distraction. Despite her attempts to ignore it, Saylor's stomach felt unusually heavy, an uncomfortable weight that settled low in her abdomen.
“I’m going to use the bathroom real quick,” Saylor said, pushing her chair back and standing up. Julian nodded, his eyes still filled with concern, but he didn't press her.
Saylor walked to the bathroom, each step making her more aware of the uneasy sensation in her stomach. She pushed the door open and locked it behind her, leaning against it for a moment. The cool surface of the door provided a slight relief against the growing heat of her discomfort.
Taking a deep breath, she moved to stand over the toilet, unsure if she was going to throw up or not. Her stomach churned ominously, sending sporadic waves of nausea up her throat.
She bent over slightly, placing her hands on her knees for support, and tried to gauge whether she was actually going to be sick or if it was just a false alarm.
Her stomach gurgled, and she felt a pressure building in her chest. She burped, the taste of acid lingering unpleasantly in her mouth. She waited, hoping it would pass, but another, stronger burp followed, making her gag slightly.
She dry heaved, but nothing came up, leaving her feeling even more unsettled.
She stood there for a few moments, her breath coming in shallow, uneasy gasps. Her mind raced, trying to convince herself that it was just a passing discomfort, that she would be fine if she just took a few deep breaths.
But the sensation in her stomach didn't ease. If anything, it seemed to grow worse, a persistent, gnawing feeling that made her question her earlier nonchalance.
She couldn’t be sick. Not now… right?
-
Saylor stood in front of the mural once again, the afternoon sun now casting longer shadows across the courtyard. She took a deep breath and picked up a can of spray paint, the familiar hiss of the aerosol bringing a slight sense of normalcy.
But as she began to work, her stomach continued to churn uncomfortably, each stroke and spray reminding her of the unsettling nausea that had been plaguing her since lunch.
Julian sat nearby, watching her. He had his fashion book, a bag of fabric swatches next to him.
"Hey, Saylor, how about I take your jacket and give it a little makeover? I've got some fabrics and materials that would look awesome on it."
Saylor glanced at him, one eyebrow raised, as she took off the dark purple and blue faux leather jacket. “Knock yourself out. Just don't turn it into one of those pastel nightmares you love so much."
Julian laughed and took her jacket, laying it out on the grass. He pulled out some of his supplies—a mix of fabrics, patches, and small embellishments. "Don't worry, it'll still be you. Just with a little extra flair."
As he worked, Saylor tried to focus on her mural, but her stomach continued to rebel. It felt like a cauldron of acid, bubbling up her throat.
She suppressed a small burp, tasting the bitter tang of stomach acid. She winced and pressed a hand to her abdomen, hoping the sensation would pass.
"Everything okay?" Julian asked, glancing up from his project.
"Just a little indigestion," Saylor replied, trying to sound nonchalant. "You know how I get when I eat. I'll be fine."
Julian nodded, “You do know that’s not objectively normal, right?”
Saylor waved him off, determined to push through. "I'm good. Besides, what can you do? I’ll be alright. Just need to lose myself in the art for a bit and stay standing, that usually helps me digest better.”
But as she continued, the discomfort grew worse. Her stomach felt like it was tied in knots, and each passing minute made it harder to ignore the urgent signals her body was sending. The acid reflux was relentless, each burp bringing a fresh wave of bitterness to her mouth. This was more than just her stomach having a hard time digesting food, it was never this bad.
She tried to keep painting, but a sudden, intense cramp doubled her over. She gritted her teeth, determined not to show weakness.
But the feeling was undeniable. Her lower stomach seized, gurgled. Saylor felt a pressing urgency to find a bathroom. She impulsively wrapped an arm around her stomach.
"Saylor, are you sure you're alright?" Julian's voice was tinged with concern.
"Yeah, just... just need a minute," she muttered, trying to keep her voice steady. "I'll be back in a sec."
Saylor set down the spray paint can, feeling a sharp twist in her stomach as she bent over. The sensation was unsettling, a queasy mix of nausea and cramping that made her pause.
Standing up slowly, she felt a wave of dizziness, the weight in her stomach growing heavier with each passing second.
"I'll be back in a minute," she said, trying to keep her voice steady as she began to walk towards the nearest building.
With every step, the urgency increased, her stomach gurgling ominously, each noise a warning of what was to come.
Her pace quickened as the pressure in her abdomen became more insistent, each step sending fresh waves of discomfort through her body. It felt as though her stomach was a ticking time bomb, the gurgling and churning growing louder and more frantic.
By the time she reached the bathroom, Saylor was nearly running. She slipped into a stall, the cold metal of the door pressing against her back as she fumbled to unzip her leather jeans.
As she collapsed onto the toilet, her stomach let go, releasing a rush of diarrhea that left her bracing her arms against the walls of the stall for support.
The sensation was both a release and a torment, her stomach twisting painfully with each wave. She took deep, shaky breaths, trying to steady herself as her body continued its relentless revolt.
Sweat beaded on her forehead, her face flushed with exertion. She could feel the muscles in her abdomen contracting uncontrollably, each spasm sending another wave of liquid out of her.
Saylor leaned forward, resting her elbows against her knees and her against her hands on the side of the stall, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
She felt drained, her body trembling from the effort. The nausea that had been a constant undercurrent now surged to the forefront, making her gag, forcing her to cover her mouth though nothing came up. Another wave of liquid poured out of her.
She stayed there for several minutes, caught in a vicious cycle of cramps and nausea, each seize of her stomach punctuated by more liquid splattering into the toilet. This was way more than her stomach not wanting to digest lunch right.
Saylor’s mind was racing with a mix of frustration and desperation. Finally, the immediate urgency began to subside, though her stomach still felt unsettled and raw.
Taking a few more deep breaths, she wiped her face with a piece of toilet paper, trying to regain some semblance of composure. She cleaned up as quick as she could.
Her legs felt weak and unsteady as she stood up, her reflection in the small mirror above the sink confirming what she already knew—she looked as bad as she felt.
She splashed some cold water on her face, hoping it would help settle her nerves and ease the lingering nausea.
Finally, she pulled herself together and headed back out to the courtyard.
When she returned, Julian was still working on her jacket, his concentration evident. He looked up as she approached, his expression shifting to one of concern.
"You okay?" he asked gently.
"Yeah, just needed a quick bathroom break," Saylor said, forcing a smile. "What's the verdict on the jacket?"
Julian held it up, the added fabrics and patches giving it a unique, personalized flair. "What do you think? It’s not done yet but…”
Saylor examined it, her eyes lighting up despite her discomfort. "It's awesome, Jules."
She picked up her spray paint can and turned back to the mural, determined to finish despite everything. Julian stayed close, while Saylor fought to keep her discomfort at bay.
Saylor's stomach churned violently as she continued to work on the mural, each stroke of the spray paint feeling like a monumental effort.
The colors blurred before her eyes, and she found it increasingly difficult to focus. Her stomach roiled with an uneasy mixture of nausea and cramping, making her movements jerky and uncoordinated. Minutes turned into an hour, and it was taking every ounce of strength for her to not start shaking from how nauseous she felt.
Julian, still working on her jacket nearby, glanced over with concern. "Saylor, you sure you don't need to sit down for a bit?"
She forced a smile, trying to keep up her usual bravado. "Nah, I'm good. Just gotta power through, you know?"
But as she tried to engage Julian in conversation, her voice wavered. "So, Jules, any new campus drama I should know about?"
Julian looked at her, his brow furrowing. "Not much. Just the usual gossip. Are you okay? You don't look so great."
Saylor's stomach twisted painfully, and she pressed a hand to her abdomen, another small burp sending acid licking the back of her throat that she muffled behind her hand, trying to ignore the growing urgency in her lower stomach again.
“Yeah, just... the paint fumes, and the heat, I guess," she lied, knowing full well it was more than that. "I'll be right back.”
She dropped the spray paint can again and hurried towards the bathroom, her pace more urgent this time. Her stomach felt like it was filled with molten lava, each step sending waves of nausea through her body. By the time she reached the bathroom, she was almost running.
She barely made it into the stall before another bout of diarrhea hit, leaving her clutching the sides of the stall for support once more. She felt her shirt sticking to her back.
The nausea grew worse, her stomach churning violently. She took deep breaths, hoping it would pass, but the sensation only intensified.
Saylor stood up shakily, making her way to the sink. She gripped the edge, her knuckles white, trying to steady herself. Her reflection in the mirror showed a pale, sweat-drenched face, her eyes wide with distress. She swallowed hard, feeling the bile rise in her throat.
A few moments later, Julian entered the bathroom, his worry evident. "Saylor? Are you okay?"
She turned to him, shaking her head slowly, "I... I don't feel so good, Jules."
“Is your stomach giving you trouble?” Julian asked, “Usually, sandwiches are easy to digest for you.”
“I… don’t… feel… good…” Saylor’s words were choppy, small gags interrupting her sentence.
Just as she said it, another wave of nausea hit, and she stumbled back into the stall. She barely had time to brace herself over the toilet before she started to vomit, her body heaving violently. Julian rushed to her side, holding her hair back and steadying her as she retched.
"It's okay, Saylor," he murmured, his voice soothing. "I'm here. Just let it out."
Saylor's body convulsed as she threw up, the contents of her stomach coming up in powerful, relentless waves.
Each heave sent a fresh surge of vomit into the toilet, and she could feel it burning her throat and nostrils.
Julian's steadying hand on her back provided some comfort, but the sickness was overwhelming.
Julian rubbed her back in slow, comforting circles, his touch gentle yet firm. "Just breathe, Saylor. I've got you."
Her stomach contracted again, forcing more vomit up her throat. The taste of bile was sharp and acrid in her mouth, making her gag even harder. She could feel the chunks of sandwich pour out of her.
Saylor heaved again. She could feel the vomit coming out of her nose, the sensation burning and painful. She couldn’t breathe, just coughed. Which made her vomit again.
Julian shifted from rubbing her back, to placing his hand on her abdomen and rubbing hard circles over her stomach. The same thing she did to him.
The motion, meant to comfort, only intensified her nausea, causing her to vomit even harder. She could feel her body shaking with the effort, the retching so intense it left her gasping for breath. She was thankful for it.
Julian held her steady, hand pressed to her abdomen, his other hand keeping her hair out of her face. "God, Say, why is your stomach always set to exorcism when you throw up?”
Saylor's stomach heaved again, sending another torrent of vomit into the toilet. She smacked his hand with her own to his comment, and he only held her tighter.
She could feel her body weakening, the relentless sickness taking its toll. The vomit came in frequent, abundant waves, leaving her feeling drained and miserable.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the vomiting began to subside. Saylor collapsed against Julian, her body trembling with exhaustion. He held her gently, his arms providing a steady support as she wrapped them around her, holding her just above her chest.
"It's okay," he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her face and wiping her cheek with his finger, brushing away a tear. “You're okay now, blackberry."
Saylor nodded weakly, too tired to speak. She closed her eyes, focusing on the feeling of Julian's comforting presence.
“Deep breaths…” Julian said, “That’s it…”
Saylor nodded, taking deep breaths. In through her nose, out of her mouth. She reached blindly but somehow managed to grab toilet paper and wipe off her face.
She leaned back against Julian, who placed the back of his hand on her cheek and her forehead.
“Oh, Say, you’re really warm,” Julian said softly.
-
Saylor lay on her bed, curled up on her left side. Her stomach still churned ominously, the discomfort making it impossible to find a truly comfortable position.
Julian sat beside her, his hand gently rubbing her shoulder in slow, soothing circles. He had pulled up a true crime article on his phone, his voice soft and steady as he read aloud.
The familiar rhythm of his voice was comforting, a steady presence that helped distract Saylor from the turmoil in her stomach.
Saylor felt her stomach seize, tasted bile. But she didn’t want to throw up again. It hurt, and she hated it.
"And the detectives soon realized," Julian read, "that the seemingly random clues were part of a much larger, more sinister pattern..."
Saylor closed her eyes, trying to focus on the story and let herself drift off to sleep. But each time she felt herself slipping into unconsciousness, a fresh wave of nausea would surge through her, pulling her back to painful alertness. Her stomach felt like it was tied in knots.
Julian glanced at her, his brow furrowed with concern. "You okay, Saylor? You look really pale."
"I'm fine," she murmured, though her voice was strained. "Just... trying to sleep."
Julian continued to rub her shoulder, his touch gentle and comforting. He was better at comforting her than she ever was with him. Or, this was how he comforted her. This worked for her, and what she did worked for him.
“Do you want me to stop reading? I can put on some music or something if you think that would help."
"No, keep reading," Saylor said, her eyes still closed. "You have the kind of voice that would make teenage girls lose their minds"
Julian chuckled softly before he nodded and resumed reading, his voice a steady, calming presence.
But Saylor's stomach had other plans. She could feel the nausea building, a slow, creeping sensation that made her mouth water and her skin break out in a cold sweat.
She swallowed hard, hoping to quell the rising tide, but it was no use.
She shifted slightly, trying to find a position that would ease the pressure in her abdomen.
Her stomach gurgled loudly, a sharp, painful cramp making her wince.
“Was that your stomach, blackberry?” Julian asked.
Saylor nodded slowly with a small whine.
"Jules," she said, "I think... I think I'm going to be sick."
Julian immediately set his phone aside and helped her sit up, his hand still on her shoulder. "Do you need the trash can? Or can you make it to the bathroom?"
Saylor shook her head, feeling the nausea intensify. "Trash can... please."
Julian grabbed the small trash can from beside the desk and brought it over, holding it out to her just in time. Saylor leaned over it, her body tensing as she felt the first violent heave rip through her.
Her stomach contracted painfully, forcing up a rush of vomit that splashed into the trash can with a sickening sound.
“You know, Say, you should audition for if they ever make another exorcist movie,” Julian said, pulling back Saylor’s hair again, “You’re a natural.”
She retched again, the force of it making her whole body shake. Julian kept a steady hand on her back, rubbing gently to offer what comfort he could.
Saylor's stomach heaved again, bringing up another torrent of vomit. The taste was bitter and acrid, burning her throat and nostrils. She could feel tears prickling at the corners of her eyes from the effort, her body straining with each violent retch. Somehow, having less coming out of her made her retches sound even worse.
Julian's hand moved to her hair, holding it back from her face as she continued to vomit.
He whispered soothing words, his voice a steady anchor in the storm of her sickness. "You're doing great, Saylor. Just a little more."
Each heave seemed to come harder and faster, leaving her gasping for breath in between. She could feel the vomit forcing its way up her throat, her body betraying her with its relentless need to expel whatever was causing her so much discomfort.
The force of her vomiting was so intense that it left her dizzy and lightheaded, each wave taking a toll on her already exhausted body.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the vomiting began to subside. Saylor leaned back, panting heavily, her body trembling with the effort.
Julian was there, holding her steady, his touch a reassuring presence in the midst of her misery.
"You're okay blackberry,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her sweaty forehead. "It's over now. Just breathe."
Saylor nodded weakly, her eyes closing as she tried to catch her breath. Her stomach still felt uneasy, but the immediate urgency had passed. She leaned against Julian, grateful for his unwavering support.
"Thank you, Jules," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
Julian smiled, his hand still gently rubbing her back. "You'd do the same for me, Saylor. Now, let's get you comfortable and see if we can get you to rest a bit."
With Julian's help, Saylor lay back down.
Julian set the trash can aside, before gently wiping the tears off Saylor’s face again.
“You did good, Say,” Julian said, “Just breathe, okay?”
28 notes
·
View notes