#emeto fic

[danafeelingsick]

having soft thoughts of a sickie feeling guilty about puking up all the food caretaker made for them with so much love and care:

sickie having to maintain appearances, even as their poor stomach revolts agaisnt the heavy meal sitting inside it

sickie who can't help but grimace at the sight/smell/texture of the food, which makes caretaker think they might've messed it up

sickie clutching/hugging their middle as they try their hardest not to puke, thinking of the smile caretaker had on as they watched them eat, thinking they finally were starting to recover

sickie who has a hand clasped over their mouth, holding it tight to keep the food in no matter what, even to the protests of caretaker who's trying to tell them to just let it out, don't try to hold it

sickie who ends up losing the barely digested food over the blankets, sobbing apologies to a caretaker who's more worried about their well-being than anything else

#emetophilia #emeto #vomiting #tw vomit #tw emeto #sickfic prompts #sickfic ideas #emeto fic #emeto prompts #sick scenario #sicknario #stomach bug #nausea #sickfic starters #stomach ache whump #sick whump #emeto scenario #caretaker prompts #sickie prompts #sickee prompts #emeto prompt #emeto kink

[sevcasejay1chicago]

Hi! Would you please write one with Matt/Kelly/Jay x reader where the reader is walking home or something and gets attacked. Roughed up a bit maybe a concussion and like a dislocated shoulder... but she manages to get away before anything too bad happens and just runs on instinct to 51. Kelly and Matt all worried and trying to comfort her but she’s in shock. Sylvie and Violet take care of her and take her to med. Jay meets them there. Maybe with worried brother-in-law Will and a Connor appearance?

Messed with the wrong one- Matt, Kelly, and Jay

Warnings: attack briefly described, vomiting, possibly wrong medical jargon

————————————

You have always been decently independent, which is something that your boys love and hate at the same time. You enjoy doing the grocery shopping and often find yourself walking the short distance to the small neighborhood market around the corner from your shared home. Today was no different.

It was late in the afternoon. The sun was just starting to set and you were happily enjoying watching the beautiful colors change in the sky. Jay was still at work, you having been able to leave early since you finished your paper work, but Jay still had a few files left to tidy up. Your errands could have waited, but you had the time now. So, while Matt, Kelly, and Jay were all still at work, you planned on getting a head start on dinner.

You were two blocks from the market when you felt four hands grab you and drag you into a nearby ally. All your training kicked in and you fought back as hard as you could. All you could think about was getting home to your boys. You kicked and punched, having to drag yourself off the ground twice. The second time you found yourself on the ground, your head also found purchase on a brick wall. You quickly shook it off and stood, laying one guy out and dodging the other, bolting down the ally and running as fast as you could. You didn’t dare look back.

Next thing you know, you are running through the bay doors of 51 and Kelly is snatching you up in his arms. You are violently shaking, blood tricking down your neck and face. You don’t respond when Kelly talks to you, given the fact that you can’t hear him over the ringing in your ears. You notice blurred figures run past you and out of the bay doors, others running out of the firehouse to see what the commotion is all about. Matt comes to your side, but you flinch and scream when he touches you.

“Shhh. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s just Matt.” Kelly whispers, rocking you back and forth in his arms. He isn’t sure you hear him, but you relax as you bury your face into his neck and breath in his familiar scent.

Matt doesn’t attempt to touch you again. Not yet anyways, but he thinks he understands why you screamed now. Your left arm is cradled between you and Kelly protectively, leading Matt to believe that your hurt. “Kelly. She’s hurt pretty bad.” Matt whispers, walking around you slowly to examine you with only his eyes.

Kelly nods. “I know. I know baby. Let’s sit down, yeah?” Kelly says, acknowledging Matt and guiding you to sit in his chair at the squad table.

Brett and Violet are standing at the ambo with the doors open. They are both assessing you from afar until Matt and Kelly can get you focused or give them permission to approach. Brett can tell you are slipping into shock, but she doesn’t want to make things worse, so she waits.

It doesn’t take long after Kelly gets you sitting down. His hands pushing your shoulders to lower you down has you screaming in pain. Matt steps aside and waves the medics over, allowing Kelly to keep a hold on you since he got to you first.

“Y/n? It’s Sylvie Brett. Can you hear me?” Brett asks, crouching down to find your tear filled eyes. When you nod, Brett smiles warmly at you. “Good. Good. Can you tell me what hurts?” Brett asks, not yet laying a hand on you.

You gently run your right hand over your collar bone and then touch the back of your head. When your hand comes away with blood, you start shaking harder and hyperventilating. You didn’t feel that.

“Hey. Hey. Baby. It’s okay.” Kelly soothes, taking your hands in his. He carefully wipes them off with a towel that Violet offers as Brett stands to examine your head wound.

“Pretty deep.” Brett comments. At this point, you have lost most of the color in your face and are sweating pretty heavily. Brett can tell, without checking your vitals, that the shock is fully setting in. “Kelly. Get her loaded up. Violet, run inside and tell Boden what’s going on then drive us to med. Matt, call med and have them set up a trauma room and have x ray and CT ready upon arrival.” Brett instructs, putting her feelings as your friend aside to get you help quickly.

Everyone jumps to their tasks. Kelly scoops you up and apologizes as you cry out in pain from the movement. Brett gets in the ambo and immediately pulls out some pain killers and an Iv tray for you. She hands Kelly a towel to keep pressure on your head wound as she hooks you up. You barely flinch as the Iv is stuck in your hand, but begin to calm slightly as the meds take over.

When you stop whimpering, Brett moves to check your chest. “Y/n. I gotta look, okay? No pressing. I promise. Just gotta make sure that everything is still relatively where it’s suppose to be.” Brett said, not wanting to scare you with the fact that your bone could potentially be out of your skin or at an alarming angle or something.

You nodded, leaning your head further into Kelly’s hold as Matt finally jumped in and the ambo began moving. You groaned as the movement caused nausea to spike as your head swam. “Mmmm.” You ground out, trying to breath through the nausea.

“What’s wrong hunny?” Brett asked, pulling back from looking at your collarbone, which seemed to be in place, to look at your face. You had gone pale once again, your face scrunched up as you shakily brought a hand to your mouth. “Okay. Hang on.” Brett said, pushing Kelly forward to lean over and grab a sick bag for you. Matt immediately took it and held it under your chin so that Brett could keep examining you.

“M-Matt.” You gasped, clutching onto his wrist when he came into view. It was like you were just processing that he was even around at all.

“Shhhh. I’m here baby. Kelly and I are here.” Matt soothed, using his free hand to wipe tears from your face. “We are almost to med. We gotcha now.” Matt murmured, hating to see the pain and fear in your eyes. He wanted nothing more than to find whoever did this to you and lay into them, but you were his first priority.

Matt’s thought process was cut short when you heaved, flying forward with a scream of pain at the end of it. Kelly stood, holding your forehead in one hand and the cloth to the back of your head with his other hand. Matt held the bag around your mouth, holding one of Kelly’s arms to stop from trying to steady you or put his hand in the wrong place and hurt you more instead o comforting you.

“Brett. You gotta do something.” Kelly said, trying not to burst into tears as you threw up, screaming when you had enough air. You were shaking violently again, the pain and the vomiting causing your body to go into overdrive.

“Kelly. I can’t. We are two minutes out. I gave her enough to take the edge off, but they gotta assess her before she gets anything else on board.” Brett tried to reason, wiping tears from her own face as she attached wires to you to check your vitals. “I’m so sorry Y/n. I’m so sorry. We are getting you to med.” Brett whispered, her heart aching as she watched her friend get sick and scream while her other friends desperately tried to help.

As soon as the ambo got to Med, Conner Rhoads, Maggie, and your brother in law, Will Halstead, were pulling open the doors. Will stood slightly away, knowing he couldn’t treat you, but he also couldn’t leave you and the boys until Jay got there. Luckily, Jay had been notified by Will when he found out, so he knew his brother would be there soon.

“What do we got?” Conner asked, helping Brett get the stretcher out of the ambo as Kelly kept up, one hand still holding the cloth to your head while the other held the bag Matt had to secure it under your chin as you gagged.

“Deep head lac and suspected broken collar bone. The vomiting started about 4 minutes ago. GCS 6, 140/97, pulse 120, O2 95 on room air.” Brett spout out. “Iv in the field. Left hand. Administered 5 of Morphine to take the edge off.” Brett said, getting your sheets in her hands.

“Okay.” Conner said, “On my count. 1, 2, 3.” Conner counted, then helped transfer you onto the hospital bed. You screamed out again as they moved you, then proceeded to pass out. “She’s out. Elevate her feet. Tip the bed.” Conner instructed, following your head down as you were moved. He checked your pupils and palpitated your collarbone while you were out. “I can feel some inflammation around her collar bone on the left side. Most likely broken, but still in place. She also has a minor concussion. I’m gonna have them do an xray and CT just to make sure on both.” Conner said, standing and looking at the monitor. “Maggie, put her on 5ML of oxygen. Her stats are dropping some. Probably from the pain. Let’s go ahead with another 15 of morphine and some Zofran too.” Conner said, typing it all up pretty quickly.

You began to stir as Kelly pushed some fly away back. Conner was quick to get to you, repositioning the bed to a more comfortable position and checked your head lac. Your eyes fluttered open just as Conner was stepping back.

“Welcome back.” Connor said with a smile. “Your gonna be okay. We need to run some tests, but I think that you’ll only need a few stitches and all you’ll need is a sling to stabilize that arm while your collar bone heals.” Conner supplied, smiling as he heard Matt, Kelly, and Will sigh in relief.

You nodded, then winced. “Hurts.” You whispered, throat raw from throwing up.

Conner nodded and moved aside for Maggie. “Mags is gonna give you more morphine and some Zofran. Sound good?” Conner asked, searching your face for confirmation. When you you gave a shaky thumbs up, he smiled. “Good, I’ll check back in a bit.” Just as Conner was leaving, Jay skidded to a stop as he came barreling through the door, almost hitting Conner in his haste to get to you.

“Baby girl.” Jay breathed, patting Conner on the shoulder and going around him to get to you. He was sweating, eyes wild as he searched your body for injuries, hands and bottom lip shaking.

“J-Jay.” You immediately sobbed out. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You wailed, covering your face with your right hand.

Jay shook his head as he laid a hand on your leg. “Shhh. No baby. No. It’s okay. It’s not your fault sweet girl.” Jay soothed, rubbing your leg over the blanket. “We got them. Voight and Antonio have them. Your safe.” Jay soothed, smiling sadly at you.

“She was so smart and so brave. She ran straight into the bay doors of the fire house.” Kelly praised, kissing your forehead.

“You know your always safe with us.” Matt said, rubbing one of your feet over the blanket.

“I-I didn’t even think. I j-just ran.” You sniffed, wiping your face with the back of your arm. “I just thought a-about you guys. I-I needed to get h-home to you guys.” You murmured, tears streaking down your face again as the horrors of the event began to creep into your head.

“You’ll be home tonight sweet girl. Until then, we are here.” Jay soothed, moving forward as Maggie walked out, kissing your forehead gently. “You did so good Angel.”

“I’m home here with you guys. Wherever you are is home.” You whispered, finally relaxing as the drugs numbed the pain and the nausea. You were exhausted and you knew your boys would keep you safe, so you allowed your eyes to slip closed.

——————

Tag list:

@treehouse-mouse

@shadowmeadowsworld

@sorry-i-spaced

@zephyrmonkey

@allisonargent144

@amie134

@lane-rodgers-barnes

@pensfan5871

@dumb-fawkin-bitch

@marvel-and-chicago-fan

@daggersquadphantom

@stellakiddsblog

@100yroldteenagers

@senjoritanana

@celtic-shadow-wolf

@starset21

#one chicago #one chicago x reader #matt casey #kelly severide #jay halstead #matt casey x reader #jay halstead x reader #comfort #kelly severide x reader #fluff #emeto fic #emeto tw #tw emeto

[the-duchess-of-domination]

the sickfic to end all sickfics

i will never get tired of a boy going to bed feeling funny and waking up in the middle of the night feverish and horrifically sick.

he tries to brush off his sour stomach and tiredness and lack of appetite. after all, he’s been working long hours and eating the wrong things. a good night’s sleep is all he needs. he hardly touches his dinner and is in bed by 7:30.

he falls asleep quickly next to you, but his temperature rises and leaves him with feverish, confused dreams. you’re awoken by him mumbling deliriously, and when you ask him what’s the matter he starts muttering incoherent sentences that don’t seem to connect or conclude. you switch on a bedside lamp, and examine the pallor of his sweat-slicked face while using your palm to feel his forehead. he’s absolutely burning hot. his eyes, heavylidded, flutter.

“i don’t feel good” he manages to tell you through dry lips. his breaths come shallow and out of his mouth. you feel so sorry for him but can’t help but find him irresistible in such a weak state. you ask him where he isn’t feeling good, brushing back his bangs.

“stomach” is all he says. you probe further and ask him what kind of stomach ache it is, and with a heavy swallow he says “nauseous” and that “everything is spinning.” you lie there with him until his saliva is too much for his own mouth, and you have to help him to the bathroom. you stay by his side until he thinks he’s done.

the next morning doesn’t fare much better. he got sick a couple more times in the night, and is still running a fever. he mumbles incoherent thoughts about having to call into work sick, so worried about having to take a sick day, about how much he’ll be missing at work. he tosses layers of blankets to the floor and removes his pajamas, complaining about how hot it is. within fifteen minutes he is shivering and you have to help him put his pajamas back on.

he goes a couple hours without throwing up, and you suggest crackers. he manages to keep those down, and before long he agrees to a can of chicken soup. when you come to place the tray over his lap, he is lying there staring off into space looking so miserable and pale. you hope the soup will give a little color to his face.

he slurps the soup down to its bottom. you’re glad to see him eating, and after he’s done you take the bowl to wash. as you’re doing the dishes, you hear him coughing. you think he might be trying to clear his throat.

you hear him start to retch.

you leave the sink and come back into the bedroom. his head is hung over a trash can. he looks up.

“im sorry,” he mutters. “im so sorry. i didn’t mean to.”

this sight absolutely breaks your heart. in this woozy state he feels the need to apologize, worried about upsetting or offending you for throwing up the soup you made. you rub circles on his back and hush him as he apologizes again and again and again. after he’s done you tuck him back up, kissing his burning forehead. you sit at his bedside to play with his hair and make him sleepy. he goes in and out of sleep, and senses when you’re not there. when he wakes he weakly cries out for you, begging for you to make it all better. all you can do is pet his hair and shush him, hoping it’ll all be over soon.

#tummy ache #belly ache #emeto kink #sickfic #emetophilia #vomit kink #whump writing #whumpblr #whump scenario #whump prompt #whump #whump community #whumpee #emeto fic #emeto tw #fantasies from the duchess 👑

[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?:)

#emeto #emeto fic #emeto writer #burping #emetophilia #irl emeto #vomiting #puke #overeating #stuffing #stuffing fic #oc #irl vomit #drabble #irl #food poisoning

[writing-whump]

Been here for a while, enjoying your fics. ❤️

Could you consider to write something including post - concussion emeto? Maybe with Matthew, because who else would be hit 😅

Greetings,

A.

Hello A.! I'm so happy you are enjoying yourself, that's super sweet! ❤️ Thank you so much for the request! Ran away from me a little but includes what you wanted :D I'm very honoured.

This one's crying, the other's sick

Seline is upset and crying. Matthew comforts her, when it turns out he came home with a concussion.

There will be no direct trains because of construction work. You can take the bus and the train connection, but we can't guarantee your way if either is delayed.

Just great. Exactly what she needed for the travel home to see her parents.

Seline knew she was freaking out for no reason. This fact didn't make it any easier to not do it.

Her life has always been divided into two places. Bratislava and Vienna. Home and school, parents and friends, Slovak and German.

She knew and her parents knew that her life was heading into the direction of Vienna - more money, more prestige, the use of languages. Slovakia was a nice home, but everyone who had any sense, ambition and knew just a bit of English moved out for college and never returned.

But Seline doubted as many people had such a good relationship with their parents. That's why she wasn't moving out even after 10 years of travelling. She even felt sorry for all her classmates and colleagues, many of which had to move to Vienna at 18 for university. Without parents and roots and childhood friends. Independence and adult responsibilities. Or were they proud of it? Was it a good thing they couldn't be children for that long?

When she asked her friends from countries farther away, like Bulgaria or Italy, they said it was fine. That they couldn't imagine living with their parents again or still. That it was nice to live alone.

Maybe they just didn't like being around them as much as Seline. Having such close relationship with your own mother was from what Seline could see, quite the exception. Her mother was her most trusted friend, her confidante, her idol and advisor. Seline's friends didn't call their mothers for two hours a day and they didn't visit every weekend and they didn't...

Seline wouldn't have moved out if it wasn't for the fights with her younger brother. And because she got good work at the university as an assistant, but that was running out. Every year was a risk of not getting the contract prolonged. She considered studying another master degree, cause as long as she was a student, they were more likely to keep her. Graduated non-students were more expensive because of taxes. PhD students were the most risky, cause they go no funding without an actual job at a project or faculty. And those were all temporary, only for a limited amount of years. Not to mention the law in Austria that you couldn't work at the same university more than 8 years on temporary contracts, which was supposed to protect university staff. Except the universities, instead of employing people without temporary contracts, didn't employ them at all, until they came with a few years of foreign experince. Go for a two years to England. Or France. Or anywhere else. Uproot yourself and maybe we will get you back.

Very family friendly.

So it somehow happened that Thursday morning she found out that her train for Friday to visit her parents would take 1.30h instead of 50 minutes and because the bus could be late and the train that you should change after wouldn't wait in the case it was, meant she would be straned somewhere in Parndorf.

So she would have to take the train before, that was direct and safe, which meant she would travel for an hour earlier, miss the connection she would have if the train were normal, wait two hours at the main station in Bratislava to get to her parents house. Her house. Whatever it was.

This would normally not anger her to the point of tears, but it was about a week before her period, so PMS was hitting her hard.

She didn't want to go to the train sooner. Or wait at the station because she missed the direct beautiful train that would get her to the home town near Bratislava.

She could take a taxi and pay more. Or take her own car. But Seline hated driving. It was stressful and fearsome and horrible responsibility and each bigger car or faster driving car made her jump in her seat in deadly fear. Her father would scoff at her for being so panicked about it. That she should drive more to get rid of it.

Well. Because of the fear, her main goal was not to drive.

Either with time with the train, with money with the taxi or with effort and nerves with the car. Nothing was for free.

She left her car at her parents anyway. Didn't need it in Vienna with all their great public transport connections. It was a relief she didn't gave to consider going with a car and no one could guilt her into using it.

She had two roomates who liked driving and cars. But she couldn't exactly ask them for a 1 hour long drive on the highway to Bratislava to see her parents.

Isaiah didn't complain about her visiting her parents during weekends. Since their schedules at university weren't packed, they had most Mondays free and other days during the week with only one seminar or online class here and there and could be together.

Seline loved not having to commute. To stay in bed until 11, talk with Isaiah over lunch, take a walk in the park or by the river and go to a seminar at 5 in the evening, meet with friends after or a bit before. Leisure nice days. Working 8-5 terrified her. She loved the flexibility, the way she could rule her time, do homework or write essays whenever she felt like, write stories and her poems whenever she was inspired, listen to music till 2 in the morning or binngewatch series all evening.

Though evening were usually reserved for movie nights with the whole trio. She loved those too.

Standing between two worlds was always a trait of hers. Something she was at peace at. But deciding between one home or the other, one city or the other and the time between pained her still, or even more so, after 10 years of back and forth.

If she could just buy that two generational house somewhere close to Vienna, on the fringes of the city and have them all there. Travel would take 20 minutes with the subway, her parents and her pack would be at the same place and they could have a view on the fields and not on the people and noise filled buildings of the city...

Except her parents still worked in Bratislava, and her grandmother and her uncle lived there and their families lived there and...and her parents didn't even speak German.

She could go back and live in Slovakia. She would get a high paid job just for speaking German and English so well. Lots of her friends from primary school did that. Those that didn't leave for France, US, Belgium or as far as Australia, that is.

She never saw her future in Bratislava. Not with the communist looking buildings and shabby streets and corrupt government and horrible health care. But she grew up around fields, open sky and on the train. City life was culturally shocking.

Seline walked back and forth on her floor, stamping her feet in anger. She let the frustrated tears loose, no one was home. Updating her train app if the connections didn't change after all didn't bring any new results for the 5th time.

She ended up in the hall, by the stairs, leaning against the wall. Today was a good day to wallow in self-pity as any. Hugging her knees, she cried quietly, half-realizing she was just being dramatic and the situation wasn't half as bad as her riled up emotions would have her believe.

"Whoa, hey. Are you crying for real?"

Seline almost jumped out of her skin at Matthew's tone, shooting up to her feet. "W-what are you doing here?!"

Matthew stood on the last step of the steps next to her. His knuckles were still wrapped in white bandages, so must have been boxing and returned sooner. He was gripping the railing tight and looked pale and tired, but the sarcastic tone and raised eyebrow chased her worries away. "I live here. Duh."

"T-that's my floor." She hurriedly rubbed at her face to get rid of the moisture. "I didn't hear you arrive."

"You were...preoccupied," Matthew said dryly. "So what's up? Did something happen? Should I go beat someone up?"

Seline chuckled despite the tears and her emberassment for him to catch her like this. "No. That's really sweet, but not at all necessary."

Matthew gave her a dubious look, then crouched down on the ground next to her, sliding down the wall slowly. "Something must have happened."

"Nothing happened. I'm just being silly." She waved his concern away, trying to smile.

"Uhm. Do you want me to call Isaiah?"

"No!"

Matthew blinked at her vehemence.

Seline ran her hands through her hair and sat down back next to him, back against the wall. "Nothing happened. It would just worry him."

"If he could comfort you, I'm sure he would be happy to worry. Maybe I just can't say what you need to hear."

"It's fine. Seriously. I'm overreacting because of hormones. Nothing is wrong." She flushed a little, realzing she said hormones, but when Matthew didn't laugh or say she was a hysterical girl, her shoulders slumped in relief and she relaxed a little.

"I didn't realize you two were so similar. Always such a put together front," Matthew commented, looking away with a sigh.

"You really want to hear my stupid reason?" She showed him the screen of her phone, too quickly for him to focus without realizing. "The trains won't be running at the time I wanted to go home tomorrow. I will have to leave early and wait up till my parents come home for them or take a risky train-bus connection that doesn't have to work out."

Stunned silence. "Can't you just drive?"

"No, I can't just drive," she said, annoyed. "I hate driving and I don't have my car here and you can go and say how this is my fault for not overcoming myself with the car and-"

"Fine, I give up." Matthew put his hands up in surrender. "You have a total right to hate driving. You want me to drive you?"

"I-" Seline spluttered for air. "I-I can't ask that of you-"

"Well, you aren't asking, I'm offering," Matthew said with a shrug. "I can drive you to your parent house and then go back. Your trains will work on Sunday, right? I can pick you up at the station."

Seline crossed her arms on her chest, avoiding his gaze. "It's just this one time. I can take the trains normally, the timing fits well, with them coming home and all. Just this once." Shouldn't she invite him over when he drives her that long? She didn't invite him or Isaiah to meet her family yet.

"It's no problem," he said tiredly. "Stop defending it like I'm moving a mountain for you. If you told this to Isaiah, even hinted at it, he would offer the same."

Seline nodded, eyes overflowing with tears again, this time from how touched she was. Seriously, today was such a stupid day. She was crying for everything. "Thank you."

"Oi. What now?" Matthew said, a little exasperated. He turned to her, wrapping his bandaged hand around her elbow and then pushed her forward against his chest.

Seline melted at the contact, pressing her crying face against his chest. Matthew enclosed his arms around her, practically dragging her to sit in his lap as he held her. She sat with her side and arm against his chest.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. This is just over emotion. Don't worry," she said reassuringly as his hug tighthened.

He sighed into her hair.

She laughed nervously against his ear, chin on his shoulder, wanting to fill the silence with something. "No way I want Isaiah to see me like this. Giant minus point, to have such an emotional girl on his hands. He would be running for the hills."

Matthew snorted. "But you don't mind me seeing?"

"You won't break up with me," she said with a half-broken smile.

"He wouldn't either."

"Not on the first time. But on the fifth time? Tenth time? I better not give him more difficult times if I can help it, before he starts counting."

Matthew shook his head. She could feel the movement against her face as she closed her eyes. "No one is counting. That's not what couples do."

"Oh really? It's all I'm doing. Counting how much we are giving each other and if it's still ends up in mutual benefit."

She could practically hear the eyeroll in his voice. "I don't think it's supposed to work like that. It's not a business deal."

"It's very similar. I have to be pretty enough, attractive enough, smart and entertaining so when I really really need something, I can get a favour and not waste on something stupid and minor like this-"

"Isaiah would run himself to the ground caring for you and never think of something like that."

"Well, that's just because he is kind and selfless and so self-sacrifacing towards everyone. Doesn't make me any special."

Seline frowned. "I love you."

Matthew leaned forward, his face in his hands, leaving her with the view on his back. "You think emotion doesn't play any role? People aren't just a list of plus and minus traits. You feel something about them too. If everyone was so strick as you say, I wouldn't make the list for anyone."

There was a beat of silence.

Matthew jerked underneath her, looking up, face going all red. "What? Where did that come from?"

"You are right." Seline shrugged. "I'm very rational about the whole dating thing, comparing and counting things, because I don't want the pink glasses to blind me to our compatability. But when it comes to friendships or family or...well, pack, it's all about feelings and I know what I feel. I love you. In the family sort of way."

Matthew rubbed his forehead, unsuccessfully trying not to blush. "You have never said it to Isaiah, you can't blurt it out like that to me."

Seline suspected there hadn't been enough people saying it to Matthew in general. "I love him too. But if we work out as a couple, I have to love him in that other, romantic way too. I'm not sure we are that far yet."

Yes, she was attracted to Isaiah. It's been very hard for her to fall in love, to respect let alone to admire someone else, so she was very happy she found him. And he was intelligent, thoughtful, considerate and he put so much effort into everything and she admired him for many things...but she never had such a long relationship, as she was not interested in dating in her teen years, and the inexperience was making her cautious.

Matthew shook his head, burying it in his hands once again. He was breathing all harsh and fast. She could feel his chest heave underneath her. She wrapped her hands around his neck, suprised at how sweaty he was and how weirdly pale...was he like that from the start?

"Hey, Matt-"

"You two should really," he gulped loudly, shuddering, "have a talk. Being this tense and counting around each other can't be- hrrrk-" he burped loudly, slamming a hand to his lips.

Seline retracted her arms back, putting one gently on his chest and the other on his stomach. He was still breathing so fast and his stomach was heaving, like it shriveled under her palms...and suddenly Matthew leaned to the side and gagged violently over her arms on the floor.

"Matt!" she yelped as his stomach heaved and he gagged again, this time bringing a mouthful of water. Seline rubbed his stomach, feeling it contract as he heaved the third time, this time bringing up a big wave of water. "What's wrong with you? Are you- did you- you were feeling sick the whole time?"

Matthew spat onto the ground, giving a full-body shudder. "Sorry. I just..."

"Is this some kind of flu? Did you eat something bad?" Crisis always brought a calm over her, making her practical. She could feel her mind clearing from trivial concerns, emotions in the backround.

"Not really. My sparrring partner got a really good hit to my head today...I guess I was feeling a little light-headed since then." He blurred his words together a little and he was still that sickly pale.

"Wait, you mean to tell me you are concussed?" She tried to scramble away from his lap, not wanting to add weight to his misery. He was feeling sick and dizzy from a hit to the head and let her blabber on?

He tighetned his hold again, squeezing her against him, hanging his head on her shoulder. "Sorry...can I just...I don't really want to move." He smiled crookedly. "I can't believe I survived climbing up the stairs."

"Matt, you silly fool. You should have said something." She threaded her fingers through his hair, looking for a bump. "Did you heal yourself?"

"A little. Didn't really stop hurting all the way. And my, ehmm, ears are ringing a little." He winced at her touch but didn't pull away.

"Come on, you should get some sleep." His head was basically limp on his neck, barely holding himself up. She figured he could sleep since he healed himself with this shadow. It must have been the symptoms that remained. "You can stay in my room, I can't really help with the stairs like Isaiah can. You will be more comfortable there, okay?" And they would get away from the mess on the floor.

Coaxing Matthew to unwrap himself took another 5 minutes. She held him under the elbow, trying to stabilize him, but they both knew he was too big for her to hold his weight, should he fall. He stumbled the few steps to her bedroom, holding onto the wall and her for support.

He basically collapsed on her favourite pillow, squeezing his eyes in a painful way that cued her in on the light. She closed the curtains on the windows and fetched a wash-basin from the bathroom, then climbed into the double bed with him.

"Hmmmm...Do I have too many minus points for vomiting to get another hug today?" Matthew mumbled sleepily, rolling to his side as she adjusted the covers over him.

"You are such an idiot," she said fondly, wiggling herself under his arm, face against his chest. It was a warm, comfortable position for her too.

"You sure Isaiah won't mind?"

Seline chuckled. "From you, he won't. My guess? He will end up sleeping here today too." She kissed the top of his forehead. "The basin is right next to you. Tell me if you feel sick again. Should I get you a painkiller?"

"Nah. Can't stomach it right now. Just stay."

It warmed something inside her that he wanted her so close, that he might have hugged her the first time for his comfort as well. Or maybe just for her. He was such a marshmellow, it was a shame it only came out when he was feeling sick.

@bellysoupset

#sickfic #whump #emeto #emeto fic #comfort #concussion #I got your request Soup #and needed to write this before I get to that one #cause there will be a connection yay

[soft-for-yoongi]

5 times BTS thought Jungkook was throwing up + the one time he actually is

‐-------------------‐------‐‐----------------

Sick: Jungkook

Caretaker: ot7, each have their individual sections

Tw: gagging, mentions of nausea, vom**, puking, dizziness

Word count: 1,469

Okay... here me out it's a little different from what I usually do, but please let me know what you think!! 🙏 oh and which member was your favourite?? 🤩

‐-------------------‐------‐‐----------------

Namjoon

Jungkook looks adorable, Namjoon thinks as he snaps a photo of the youngest— asleep on the couch in his studio. It wasn't uncommon for the members to relax there, but Jungkook definitely does it the most. Just as Namjoon sends the photo to their group chat, Jungkook wakes with a groan. He stretches before a hand covers his mouth.

Namjoon looks at him, Jungkook's eyes are half lidded and hazy, hand on his month. Wait. Namjoon grabs the trash can under his desk, quickly holding it in front of Jungkook. The youngest takes the bin with a furrowed brow, then erupts with a sneeze, "HIHSH'Ew, ugh. Sorry." Jungkook mumbles, still sleepy. "What's this for?" He adds, lifting the bin slightly.

Namjoon looks at him blankly, "Oh, thank goodness, you're okay. I thought you were about to vomit," Namjoon laughs, half-heartedly because it has happened before, and you can never be too prepared. "Jeeze, hyung, you worry too much." Jungkook giggles.

Seokjin

Jin was peacefully cooking in the kitchen, making one of their go-to's, but still a favourite. The occasional member swings by sometimes to check in and help for a bit, which is why he wasn't surprised when the youngest walked into the kitchen. He opens the fridge and takes a water, taking a few swigs. A drop accidentally goes down the wrong hole, making Jungkook splutter and cough. He throws himself over the sink, coughing and spitting water into the drain.

Seokjin abandons the veggies he was cutting and starts rubbing Jungkook's back, "you okay, Jungkook-ah?" Seokjin said, concerned for the younger. Jungkook nodded and swallowed, recovering from his clumsy drinking. He exhaled, "I'm okay. I swallowed funny and it went down the wrong way." Jungkook wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, Jin still rubbing his spine.

"Christ, you scared me half to death! I thought you were being sick or something." Seokjin admits, dramatically holding his heart. Jungkook chuckled, realising the misunderstanding, "sorry, hyung. I'm fine, I promise." Jungkook replies, earning a sigh and fluffing of his hair from Seokjin.

Hoseok

Put Jungkook with his Hoseokie-hyung and there's bound to be chaos. They were originally practising together, but somehow, it turned into a pirouette competition? Hoseok went first, and he'd say he was pretty graceful, remembering to point his toes as he spun around. Jungkook's high-pitched laugh rang in the air as he held his phone up, recording Hoseok. "Aish!" He exclaimed, "wow, that was hard." Hoseok stopped spinning, after doing approximately 4 turns, again, pretty impressive if you ask him.

"Jungkookie, your turn!" Hoseok beams, quickly flipping out his phone and recording as Jungkook takes the spotlight. He spins in quick succession, one, two, three, four, five?? Jungkook laughs at the very Hoseok-like noises as he films. Jungkook slows down and ends up victorious with 7 turns. Woah, he's kinda dizzy though. Jungkook pants, hand on his knee and arm to his middle.

"Wahhh, Jungkookie!... Hey, you feeling okay?" Hoseok ends the video, jogging to the youngest. He places a hand on his back, heart dropping. "Yeah- just dizzy." Jungkook laughs, straightening up to look at his hyung. "Are you about to puke?" Hoseok blurts, eyes starting to scan for a rubbish bin. "What? No, gosh. I'm fine Hobi-hyung," Jungkook breaks into high-pitched laughter, soon joined by the elder.

Taehyung

Taehyung has an arm wrapped around Jungkook's shoulder, both sharing a blanket as they stare intently at the tv, playing an action movie. Taehyung knew the youngest loved them, but couldn't get as immersed as he could. Thus why when Jungkook made sniffly noises and put a hand over his mouth to stop from sobbing, Taehyung was very confused. And very worried. He had been paying attention and nothing too dramatically sad was happening (he thinks), so what's wrong with Jungkook???

"Jungkookie?" Taehyung holds Jungkook's cheek, body turned to face him. Jungkook looks towards his lap, a little embarrassed, his hand the only thing keeping him from audibly sobbing. "Are you getting sick or something? Your cheeks are pink." Taehyung worries, using his phone light to illuminate Jungkook's face. He sees the shaky fingers cupped over his mouth and assumes the worst. "Do you feel nauseous?" The singer questions.

Jungkook bubbles with a laugh, tears still coming out of his eyes. "I-I'm okay, Taehyungie-hyung." Jungkook uses his sleeve to wipe his eyes, blinking back a couple more and taking some deep breaths. "How are you not sad? Iron man died." Jungkook pouts, maybe Taehyung wasn't paying as much attention as he thought. "I was more worried about you. It looked like you were gonna be sick!" Taehyung frets, pulling the youngest into a hug to calm both himself and Jungkook.

Yoongi

Jungkook sqints at the toilet. It's shiny and looking better already! He'd noticed some dust and decided he'd do a good deed and clean the toilet. Pretty normal thing to do, if you ask Jungkook. Though, Yoongi didn't see it that way when he first walked into the bathroom. The bathroom was half lit and he'd taken his contacts out already. He scans the youngest, who's squated in front of the toilet.

"Kook?" Yoongi says, suddenly next to him and rubbing his back. He's on his toes, ready to grab some pepto or another member. The youngest turns around to look at the older, a confused look on his face. "Do you want some water?" Yoongi offers, wiping his eyes tiredly. Jungkook is still confused as to what his hyung is doing.

"I'm okay, hyung," Jungkook replies. He is enjoying having his back rubbed though, he will admit. "Have you been sick?" Yoongi asks, although the toilet does look oddly clean. "What? Hyung, I'm cleaning the toilet, not throwing up," Jungkook breaks into laughter, clapping his hands. "Oh my bad, good work Kook-ah." Yoongi smiles, "you had me worried."

Jimin

Jimin looks over at the youngest from his position on the couch. Jungkook's face is puffy and he's got two pieces of toast in front of him. Plain toast. No butter, no jam, nothing. They've only got a recording session later this evening, so usually Jungkook works himself quite an impressive appetite even though it's only breakfast. He watches the youngest cringe with each bite, looking like he's zoning out.

He turns off his phone to pay more attention to Jungkook. He sees the younger's face twinge in discomfort or pain—he can't quite tell—and then move a hand under the table to place on his belly. Gotcha. Jimin's mood drops and he walks over to Jungkook, placing a hand on his back. Jungkook doesn't even resist the touch, not bothering to put up a facade as he pushes his plate away, resting his forehead on the table.

"Not feeling the best?" Jimin asks, "I feel sick." Jungkook replies and the dancer hums sympathetically. Jimin slides in the seat next to him, concern apparent on his face. "Kook, do you know what's upsetting you?" Jimin frowns worriedly. "I don't know, hyung... my stomach hurts." Jungkook says and then registers that these are all his tell-tale signs he's about to throw up. He moans at the realisation.

"Jungkook do you need me to bring the bin over?" Jimin stills his hand on Jungkook's back, able to hear the younger's stomach throwing a fit from where he's sitting. Jungkook lifts his head enough to give Jimin a nod. With haste, Jimin grabs the trash can from in the kitchen and brings it back. Jungkook takes the bin and lets it rest in his lap, staring at the meager contents and feeling his stomach churn unhappily.

Jimin can see goosebumps on Jungkook's arms and wishes relief for him so badly. Seeing the youngest pale and quiet, makes Jimin want to switch places with him. The weight of anticipation is soon ended when Jungkook coughs lightly and then breaks out into gags, bringing the bin right up to his face. "Deep breaths, Kook." Jimin says, worry etched onto his face.

Jungkook can only hiccup and release strained breaths, not quite what Jimin wants right now. "Hyung— I'm g-gonna throw up—" Jungkook whimpers, back arching into a 'c' as he retches productively. Jimin pats his back nervously, eyeing the bathroom door, considering relocating the sick maknae.

Gags fill Jungkook's ears and the smell of his previous toast is enough to make him go green in the face. Jungkook tries to focus on the hand on his back and the massaging of his neck but his stomach clearly has other plans. The organ squeezes harshly at every move Jungkook makes, forcing bill up his throat. "I hate this, hyung..." Jungkook mumbles, hugging the bin close.

"Yeah, being sick is no fun, it's a good thing you're healthy." Jimin kisses the singer's hair, "most of the time."

#bts #soft-for-yoongi writes #bts!sickfic #emeto #emeto mention #bangtan #jungkook #emeto fic #sickfic #vomit mention #sick #5+1 things #jungkook centric #sick!jungkook #caring!bts #tw vomit #vomiting #comfort #a little far fetched #but thats okay #nausea #bts emeto #tw emeto

[salembutnotthecat]

Novemetober (Rescheduled) | Day Twenty

@monthofsick | day twenty: late caretaker (i think i did this right)

introducing some new ocs to take a break from Novak. meet Lucien, the rookie police officer Vanessa (Willow’s girlfriend) has taken as a little brother almost. lucien is very anti-help and vanessa doesnt care, basically

if you want to see more of this oc or any other, PLEASE SEND ME A REQUEST!

tw for emeto, resistance, fever, sick on the job

It's 4:47p.m.

He should be on his way to the station. The 6 to 6 shift. He didn't drive, he needed to catch the bus, and then the train.

Instead, he's half ready, coughing as he tried to catch his breath while leaning over the toilet, spitting after a sudden round of vomiting he hadn't been expecting to endure.

He hadn't been expecting the headache he woke up with, or the ache in his muscles, or the way that moving made his head spin.

Of course, he couldn't skip out on work. That would put everyone on tonights shift at a disadventage. And he couldn't do that to them.

He was shaking. He could feel the way his whole body was almost vibrating, like he had a current of electricity was running constantly through every vein in his body.

He needed to pull himself together. He needed to get dressed, he needed to catch the bus, the train, get to the station. Regardless of how terrible he was feeling.

-

Vanessa looked at the clock. It was quarter after six. Lucien wasn't here yet. That was unusual.

She picked up her phone, dialing Lucien's number. The phone rang, and rang, and eventually went to voicemail.

"Hey, Jonah," Vanessa said, grabbing her fellow officer's shoulder as he walked past her desk, "Have you heard from Officer Carpentier?"

Jonah thought about it for a second, before shaking his head, "No, I haven't heard from him. Ask Cap maybe?"

Vanessa groaned, tossing the file she was looking over back onto her desk. "Fine."

She got up, heading to Captain Baxter's office.

SHe knocked on the door.

"Officer McAllister?" Captain Baxter looked up from his own paperwork, "Are you here to get your clearance to go on patrol?"

"First of all, I would love to go on patrol, or literally anywhere that isn't this boring ass office," Vanessa said, "But, no. Actually, I was wondering if Officer Carpentier called in?"

"Not to me he hasn't," Captain Baxter shrugged, "Your rookie's a no show?"

"He doesn't seem like he would be a no show, like on purpose," Vanessa said, "But maybe."

A knock on Captain Baxter's door.

"Hey, Vanessa," Jonah is popping his head in the door, "Carpentier is here."

"Great, yeah," Vanessa said, "So, can I go on-?"

"Yes, Officer McAlliser," Captain Baxter said, "Stay out of trouble."

Vanessa stepped out of the office, offering a welcoming smile to Lucien.

"Ready to go on patrol Luci? Vanessa asked.

-

Something seemed off. Vanessa always prided herself in her perception of things. But Lucien was a special case. He was good at hiding things. Vanessa knew that.

"Are you feeling alright, Lucien?" Vanessa asked, her tone laced with concern as they parked at the riverside.

Lucien forced a smile. "I'm fine, Vanessa. Just a little tired."

Vanessa didn't buy it. She had known Lucien long enough to see through his facade. But she decided not to press him further, trusting that he would confide in her when he was ready.

As they patrolled the streets, Vanessa couldn't shake off the feeling of unease. Lucien's casual attire, a stark contrast to his usual professional demeanor, only added to her worry. But she chose to focus on their duty, hoping that the distraction would alleviate whatever was troubling Lucien.

Their radio crackled to life, dispatching them to a disturbance at a nearby apartment complex. Vanessa glanced at Lucien, who nodded in response. They arrived at the scene to find a heated argument between two neighbors escalating into a physical altercation.

Vanessa and Lucien intervened, defusing the situation before it could escalate further. As they escorted the individuals involved to their respective residences, Vanessa stole a concerned glance at Lucien, who looked paler than usual.

"Are you sure you're okay, Lucien?" Vanessa asked once they were back in the patrol car.

Lucien hesitated for a moment before nodding. "I'm just a bit tired, that's all. Nothing serious."

Vanessa sighed inwardly, wishing Lucien would open up to her. But she respected his privacy, knowing that he would share if and when he felt comfortable.

They continued their patrol in silence, the only sound being the occasional chatter over the radio. As the night wore on, Lucien's condition seemed to worsen, his usual composure slipping with each passing hour.

Around 2:30, Vanessa figured heading back to the station would be better. They could do their paperwork and then Lucien could be out by six.

As they got to the department, Vanessa got out of the car. It took Lucien a little longer.

“I’m going to use the bathroom,” Lucien told Vanessa, “Then I’ll catch up.”

-

Lucien started feeling nauseous halfway through the patrol. The nausea that had hit him so suddenly that evening, before he came in, was nothing to how he felt now.

His head spun, his body hurt, and his stomach was gurgling and churning in such a way he hoped Vanessa didn’t hear.

“I’m going to use the bathroom,” Lucien had forced out, if only barely. “Then I’ll catch up.”

Maybe taking a breather in the bathroom would settle his stomach. He was off the next three days. He could be as sick as he liked as soon as he got home. But for now, he had to stay healthy. Or at the very least, appear he was in perfect condition.

The button up shirt he tried to put on before work squeezed his stomach back then, but even the loose Portland police department sweatshirt he was wearing felt like a vice grip on his stomach. He knew Vanessa was already suspicious by his attire, but he was begging internally that she second guessed herself.

As Vanessa and Lucien stepped into the station, Lucien's stomach churned violently, threatening to betray him at any moment. He forced a tight-lipped smile at Vanessa before excusing himself, his steps hurried as he made his way to the bathroom.

Once inside, Lucien's legs gave way beneath him as a wave of nausea washed over him like a relentless tide. He staggered to the nearest stall, collapsing to his knees just in time as his stomach revolted with a vengeance.

The retching sounds echoed off the tiled walls, each heave sending shards of agony through Lucien's body. His forehead beaded with sweat, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he struggled to regain control.

His stomach heaved again, bile rising in his throat like a bitter tide. Lucien gagged, his whole body convulsing as he emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, a silent testament to his suffering.

Lucien’s world was suddenly reduced to the searing pain in his gut and the relentless cycle of vomiting.

Finally, the ordeal came to an end, leaving Lucien trembling and weak, his face drained of color as he slumped against the stall door. He wiped his mouth with toilet paper, his fingers trembling as he reached for the flush handle. But reaching forward, leaning forward, made his stomach lurch again. So, he leaned over the toilet, lips parted as saliva dripped into the bowl.

The shaking started again. The spinning in his head. The occasional clench of his stomach. Everything started again, telling Lucien he was going to vomit again.

Vomit again he did. His stomach lurched, he heaved so hard. Nobody was coming. Just as he liked it. He could puke his guts up, feel temporarily better, and finish the day. No additional concerns necessary.

He heaved, the type of heave he was sure started in the pit of his stomach and roared up his throat. He felt liquid come from his nose, he sniffled between vomiting rounds on instinct and could feel the acid going back up.

He clutched his stomach with his free hand, willing it to be over soon.

-

As minutes turned into what felt like an eternity, Vanessa's concern for Lucien grew with each passing second. She couldn't shake off the nagging feeling that something was wrong, her instincts as both a police officer and an unofficial older sister kicking into overdrive.

Abandoning her paperwork, Vanessa rose from her desk, determined to check on Lucien. She made her way to the bathroom, her footsteps quickening with each step, heart pounding in her chest.

Pushing open the door, Vanessa's heart lurched at the sight before her. The air was thick with the acrid scent of vomit. Lucien himself was kneeling, leaning over the toilet. Vanessa could see how bad he was shaking. She also saw the way his breaths shook, saliva dripped out of his mouth. She saw everything.

"Lucien," Vanessa whispered, her voice filled with concern as she approached him slowly.

Lucien didn’t look at her. Vanessa could see the way a hand stayed over his stomach, Lucien was trying to gauge whether or not he was going to be sick.

"I'm sorry, Vanessa. I didn't mean to worry you."

Vanessa's heart clenched at the sound of Lucien’s voice. Ripped absolutely raw by vomiting. Without a moment's hesitation, she brushed some bangs away from his suddenly sweaty face.

“You’re burning up,” Vanessa said, adjusting her touch to get a better feel of his forehead and cheeks. “Yeah. You have a fever.”

“I’m sorry,” Lucien tells her again.

"You have nothing to apologize for, Lucien," Vanessa murmured, her voice gentle but firm, she shifted her hands to pet his hair, "You're not alone in this. I'm here for you, no matter what."

But Lucien recoiled from her touch, his shoulders tense with self-doubt. "I don't deserve your comfort, Vanessa. I should be able to handle this on my own."

Vanessa's heart ached at Lucien's words, knowing all too well the weight of his self-imposed expectations. She did the same thing. She was sure it drove Willow up the wall most of the time. But she refused to let him suffer in silence, not when he needed her the most.

"You don't have to do this alone, Lucien," Vanessa said, her voice unwavering. "Let me help you."

Reluctantly, Lucien allowed himself to lean back against Vanessa, his defenses crumbling under the weight of his exhaustion. He felt the warmth of her presence enveloping him like a comforting embrace, soothing the raw edges of his frayed nerves.

“Come on,” Vanessa said, “Let’s head to the break room.”

Lucien nodded.

As Vanessa gently guided him out of the bathroom, her protective instinct kicking into overdrive, she was going through her list of things to grab. To give him.

She led him to the break room, guiding him to the couch. She brought over the trash can, just in case, and grabbed a cup of water for Lucien.

“Here, try this,” Vanessa said, sitting beside Lucien and rubbing his shoulder, “When six comes, you can come home with me, okay? Willow and I will take care of you.”

Lucien's throat tightened at Vanessa's words, a mixture of gratitude and guilt swirling within him. He accepted the cup of water with a shaky hand, taking a small sip to quell the persistent nausea churning in his stomach.

"Thank you, Vanessa," Lucien murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, taking the cup. "But I don't want to be a burden to you and Willow."

Vanessa's expression softened, shifting her hand from rubbing his shoulder to her running her hand through the slight curls of his sweaty shoulder length hair. "You're not a burden, Lucien. You're family. And family takes care of each other, no matter what."

Tears pricked at the corners of Lucien's eyes, overwhelmed by the depth of Vanessa's compassion. Despite his protests, she remained steadfast in her resolve to support him through his ordeal, her unwavering faith in him a beacon of hope in the darkness.

After a few sips of water, he looked at her, and she knew what he was looking for. Vanessa leaned back against the couch, Lucien laid hisbhead on her shoulder.

“I feel sick,” Lucien said, swallowing thick as the water tried to reappear.

Vanessa's heart sank as she felt Lucien's body tense against her, a silent testament to the relentless onslaught of his illness. She wrapped her arm around him, offering what little comfort she could in the face of his suffering.

"I'm here, Lucien," Vanessa whispered, her voice a gentle reassurance amidst the storm raging within him. "Just let it out. I've got you."

With a shuddering breath, Lucien buried his face against Vanessa's shoulder, his body convulsing with another wave of nausea. Then he broke away from her, grabbing the trash can. Vanessa rubbed his back as he heaved, hard. So hard Vanessa wanted to wince.

As Lucien emptied the contents of his stomach into the waiting trash can, Vanessa rubbed soothing circles on his back, offering silent comfort in the face of his suffering. And when the ordeal finally came to an end, leaving Lucien trembling and weak against her, Vanessa knew that they couldn't stay any longer.

"Come on, Lucien," Vanessa said softly, helping him to his feet. "Forget six o’clock. Let's get you home."

“But what about-“

“That cant have a puking officer on duty,” Vanessa shrugged, “And they won’t fire me unless I commit a real felony.”

Despite his protests, Vanessa remained steadfast in her resolve to take care of him, guiding him out of the break room and towards the exit. With each step, Lucien leaned heavily against her, his strength depleted by the relentless onslaught of his illness.

As they stepped out into the cool night air, Vanessa felt a sense of relief wash over her. They may have been leaving work early, but in that moment, nothing else mattered except getting Lucien home safe and sound.

“I texted Willow, she said she has some medicine for you,” Vanessa said, “Just try and rest until I get you to our apartment.”

“I can go back to mine,” Lucien offered.

Vanessa shook her head, “No Luci, you’re coming to ours. Willow and I will take care of you. Just let us, for once?”

And Lucien is too worn out, too nauseous, to disagree.

#emeto #sickfic #emeto fic #emeto cw #emeto tw #fever cw #fever tw #emetophilia #novemetober 2023 #novemetober rescheduled

[gusherguy]

for your consideration: two people getting really sick at the same time from eating far too much of the same bad food. one person has a weaker stomach and starts really feeling the effects first, but their vomiting very quickly sets the other off and once they start there's no stopping them

(Hayden he/him, Cade he/him)

They hadn't planned on seeing Cade's parents that night. Hayden and Cade went for Chinese food at a buffet that afternoon, and soon after got a call. "My parents are in town!" Cade leaned into Hayden's room. "Want to go meet them? They're gonna be at the steakhouse. You should come with!"

"Are you sure you want to come with, Hayden? You don't look so good." Cade said when they got out of the car. "And you can meet my parents later. I don't want you to overdo it." Cade said sympathetically as he absently rubbed his swollen gut. "I—I'll be fine. I just, uh…" He takes a deep breath and tries to relax, but the tension is too much to bear. "I ate too much. Had way too many noodles."

Despite the overstimulation of having already been in a restaurant, and his disinterest in steak after stuffing on noodles and fried rice, Hayden felt excited that Cade wanted to take this next step, and hoped the parents would like him. He didn't want to waste this chance, no matter how sick he felt.

Once they got there, he realized it was a mistake. Hayden's temples throbbed, the inside of his mouth tasting vaguely of raw onions. The restaurant's bright, white lights were a source of torture rather than comfort, their brightness highlighting his clammy forehead. The sounds of the bustle around him were loud enough to cause headaches, which seems like a cruel twist of fate considering that he's suffering the early pangs of a salt-induced migraine. A sharp pain lanced through his torso, and Hayden swallows hard. He carefully loosened his belt under the table. His stomach roils, and he's sure a violent attack of indigestion is only moments from kicking in.

"You good?" Cade asked him suddenly. Hayden almost jumped. "Um - yeah. I'm good, just…I think I ate too much." Cade gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Yeah, I know what you mean. I've got really bad bubble guts right now. I really hope nothing at that buffet was spoiled." He sipped on his Sprite and then brightened up, nodding his head at a middle-aged couple that had just entered. "There, that's them. That's my mom and dad." With that Cade stood up to go and greet them, leaving Hayden all by himself at the table.

As Cade went to greet his parents, Hayden gripped the table and forced his eyes shut. The lights and commotion aren't doing him any favors. He almost felt seasick. He took a deep breath, then released it slowly, but he's barely finished exhaling before he feels a familiar rumble begin low in his abdomen. Gas and the remains of a meal are threatening to be regurgitated. He swallowed hard.

For a little while, Hayden kept control of his stomach. He sipped his iced soda, hoping the bubbles would settle his stomach. And for a bit it seemed to help. He introduced himself to Cade's parents and they began small talk. Then Cade's dad ordered appetizers. "Make that double, would you please? Looks like I'm feeding a crowd today." his father said good-naturedly. And before either Cade or Hayden could protest, the waiter left. And Cade's parents began making small talk.

Hayden's brow was really beginning to glisten with sweat. Every time he turned to face someone new in this little circle, the lights flashed and his stomach rumbled heavily, slow and sluggish and sickening. He can't imagine eating anything; the idea of chewing or swallowing makes him dizzy.

Cade was also having to gulp over and over to keep his stomach in its place. When the appetizers arrived and his parents dug in, he snacked a bit on the wings and dip that had been left on the table, nibbling out of habit. The strong, greasy smell and spicy taste made his guts churn. And when he looked to Hayden, he realized with horror that he didn't look much better off. Maybe something at the buffet really was spoiled.

Hayden can't imagine holding back any longer. His head jerks from side to side, heaving breathlessly, and he suddenly feels bile rising in his mouth. He grips the edge of the table, a hand ready for his forehead as his guts churn and gurgle. His swallows mean nothing against the force of his sick stomach, and he felt chunks at the back of his throat.

"You know, mom and dad, Hayden's pretty tired. I think we might - urrp!" a sudden burp interrupted Cade. He blushed a little, but mostly his cheeks were green. "'scuse me. I think we might head out early."

Hayden's mouth twisted in misery. "P—please… have to… go…" he whined out, desperate. What seems like a long moment of agonizing silence passed as Hayden tried to keep his stomach down, but he was fighting a losing battle. Sweat trickled down his neck, his breath coming harsh in his throat. He leaned over the table, gagging, and that's all it took. The food from earlier erupted, exploding past Hayden's lips and splattering everything around him. He sagged forward and moans miserably. "Ohhh… I—I'm so sorry…"

When Hayden vomited, it was like a button was pressed on Cade's gag reflex. He didn't even feel himself heaving before a sudden heavy wave of chunky noodle barf spewed from his lips and splattered all over the appetizer. He hiccupped and moaned, mortified. "Ohhh m-my god, I'm so s- sghhhuruuughhhl!!" his belly clenched and Cade threw up again. The hot slurry burned all the way up and splashed on his jeans.

"Oh no… you too…" Hayden choked back bile, looking at Cade in horror. He wiped his mouth with a napkin, passing one to Cade. But the second he tried to speak, he heaved again. An ungodly amount of partially-digested ramen noodles burst out of his mouth, staining his shirt and the tablecloth. He curled into himself, panting with exhaustion and fighting to keep the remnants of his meal down. His stomach continued to roil, but it seems he's emptied as much as he's able.

Cade's parents at least didn't react in disgust. They seemed worried, and jumped into action. They pushed the almost-empty bowl of dip under Hayden's mouth as his tongue shot out and he began again to vomit. Cade leaned forward and desperately covered his mouth with his hands. But it was to no avail, and barf dripped from his fingers. A forceful gush escaped then. He groaned and gave in to the sickness clutching his belly.

Hayden retches violently, trying to expel the spoiled food that remained. It's as if his stomach were a bottomless pit, full of the slimiest rank slurry imaginable. He just wants it to be over. He dry-heaves, nothing coming up, but his stomach won't let him find comfort in the calm. It spasms and he can feel fresh bile rising up his throat. He leaned over the table and heaved, quickly getting dizzy.

Cade regretted overeating at the buffet. He burped up a violent surge of orange and noodles that splashed, mostly getting into the bowl. He clutched his belly with a low moan before spewing again. He was grateful they had chosen a table in the back; nobody but them noticed the mess yet. Hayden had the worst of it. He had eaten more of that slightly-suspicious shrimp stir fry than Cade had. Every exhale was a violent gush of vomit, and his face was sweaty and red. Cade's father gingerly patted his back.

Hayden, for his part, was beginning to feel lightheaded. His tummy went quiet for now, but that seemed to be the calm before the storm. He groaned miserably and clutched his sides, every twitch in his guts generating an involuntary grimace. He felt more exhausted than he could remember, and every movement is like pulling teeth. His tongue tasted foul and every breath he takes seems to make things worse. Cade's mother lays a hand on his shoulder and mouths, "You'll be alright."

It took a long while before they were alright, however. After a few minutes both boys could control their nausea long enough to make it to the bathroom, but once they got there the heaving just started again. Their stomachs felt agonizingly gross, heavy and overfull and sick. The sound of their retching reverberated through the small bathroom. After a moment, Cade called over in a raspy voice "H-Hayden….you okay?"

Hayden didn't answer, too busy with the business of being sick to reply. He hunched over the toilet in the fetal position, gagging and retching violently while it felt like his insides writhed and squirmed. Cade's voice barely registered to him. But eventually, he forces back the bile, breathing through his mouth and gasping for air as he got his breath. Eventually, he croaked "Yeah… yeah. Just… gimme a minute."

Just then Cade let out a meaty belch that turned into vomit on the tail end. He leaned over the toilet and let it out. Another retch took hold, and he splattered the bowl with brown and orange chunks. "Ohhhgg….god, thats bad."

Hayden shuddered, his stomach roiling again. "Ugh, god…" He puts his hand on his head and, with the slightest movement, let out another gush of bile. He leaned over again, his eyes watering as he continues to expel what little food he consumed at the buffet. His head pounded and he felt chills. After a moment, he sighed and pressed his cheek against the wall. "This is awful… I feel so gross."

"S-same….god, that really must have been spoiled food." Cade spat into the toilet and sighed. "I haven't felt this bad in a long time." he tenderly rubbed his bloated stomach, feeling it all moving around inside. Every little twist and turn of his guts brings him a fresh jolt of nausea. Now that the initial vomiting has slowed, he's left with a dull, pounding headache. He flushed and leaned against the wall, trying to rest. His guts kept spasming a little bit every so often, but he wasn't vomiting anymore.

Hayden groaned lightly and clutches his throbbing head. The nausea has calmed down for the most part, but he can feel the food sloshing around inside him. And the chillls kept getting worse. He grimaced and looked at the stall his boyfriend was in, suddenly feeling worried. "Cade… do you feel feverish at all? I—I'm feeling a little hot, but… maybe I'm just imagining things."

"Lemme check." Cade didn't feel too feverish, just nauseous. He reached his hand under the stall to Hayden. "I don't. Do -- urrrp! - do you? Let me feel your arm." When he felt Hayden, his boyfriend's skin was very hot and slightly red. "Ohh boy. Yeah, I think you might have a fever, babe."

Hayden nodded, his eyes widening with concern. "You don't feel too hot, right? I don't know how I'd handle it if we were both sick." He rests his hands on Cade's arm. It felt cool compared to his. His stomach began to churn again, but he fought down the rising nausea. "God, I still feel gross. I—my head… still hurts."

"I sh-should ask my dad to bring us water." Cade said, swallowing hard. His stomach was very upset again and he was worried he would soon vomit. But it happened sooner than he expected, and he spewed slushy orange and white down the front of his jacket. "Ohhhgg…oh shit, god. Damn i-- urrghhkkk!" he leaned over the toilet before he vomited again. "It hur-hrhrrggglllhg! It hurts…." Cade moaned between retches.

Hayden looked away when Cade began to vomit and made a grumbling sound of distaste. When he heard Cade's stomach rumbling again, he knows what's coming. He covered his mouth and turns his head, listening to the revolting squelching and splattering in Cade's throat. He tried not to be repulsed, but it was hard when the sounds were so loud. It's a relief when Cade finally let the last of his dinner go, though the smell made Hayden feel like he might puke again himself. "Ohh my god…" he said hollowly.

Hayden's belly lurched violently and he gasped. With a sudden rush, he expeled the rest of his dinner, most of it splashing down into the bowl but some bits and bile reaching the floor. He groaned and gripped the toilet to keep from wobbling, letting the contents churn and splurt out for a few seconds before he's finally spent. He was left dry-heaving into the bowl for a long moment. "Hnngg…. mmphhh… gahh…"

Cade spat, his stomach feeling much better now that it was empty. He flushed again and knocked on Hayden's door. "How're you doing in there?" he asked gently. In the end, Hayden needed help getting home. He was ill over the whole weekend, and terribly embarrassed about vomiting in front of the people who could become his in-laws. But Cade's parents were very understanding, and even sent them a card hoping Hayden felt better soon.

#emeto #emetophilia #emeto scenario #emeto ask #puke #emeto fic #gay

[twisted-sickfics]

Tough Day

a lot of content warnings in this one for angel-typical sexual content and violence so please skip this one if that’s not something you’re comfortable with! this still has lots of caretaking and comfort, there’s just also valentino so please beware!

content warnings: MDNI, emeto, language, valentino, violence and sexual content

~

Angel knew it would be a tough day when he woke up feeling like shit.

Well, to be more specific, his stomach feels like shit and his entire body aches all over. It doesn’t exactly take a genius to figure out that he’s probably coming down with something.

But he doesn’t have time to worry about that. Valentino needs him for a shoot and he’s not exactly going to take “I’m sick” as an excuse. He’s been higher and felt worse than this and completed shoots just fine. If he’s lucky, he doesn’t even remember them when he’s that out of it.

This is just…uncomfortable. Inconvenient. A fucking drag.

Getting to the set isn’t an issue but actually having to film? That’s another beast altogether. Having a bunch of dicks shoved in his mouth isn’t exactly the best idea when he’s already feeling like he could puke at any second. Thankfully, it doesn’t seem like that’s the vibe Valentino wants to go for today.

Filming isn’t actually that bad, but it’s during the short break he’s allotted that things start to take a turn for the worse. He takes a drink of water and practically gags, feeling his stomach rebelling against the liquid he tried to introduce into his system.

“Angel, baby, we haven’t even played with your gag reflex today,” Valentino says, obviously having fun reveling in Angel’s misery. He just has to suck it up and take it, trying to fight back now would just be stupid. “Don’t tell me you’re losing your touch.”

“Not at all, Valentino,” Angel swears. “I’m fine.” The last thing he’s going to do is open up to Valentino and admit weakness. If anything, the creep would only want to exploit his misery even more.

Valentino looks at him intensely as though poring over every little detail of Angel’s body. It feels slimy. It feels violating. “Back to filming, then,” he commands and the stagehands and actors get into position. Angel follows suit.

It’s when he has a demon’s cock up his ass and his brain is being pounded out that the nausea gets worse. He lifts a hand to cover his mouth, but Valentino immediately yells, “Cut! Angel, what the Hell are you doing?! We need to hear you loud and clear!”

“Valentino, I—” He isn’t sure how he would have explained himself, but even fumbling over his words would have been better than doubling over and vomiting all over the bed. Which is exactly what happens. He hears the stage crew gasp and shout around him, pictures being snapped, and Valentino yelling at him.

It all gets fuzzy after that. Maybe it’s the fever he’s positive he has at this point or maybe it was all so awful that he blocked it out of his memory, but he doesn’t remember much of Valentino’s wrath, just being thrown out of the studio and yelled at by some stagehand to call a cab because the shoot is over.

That didn’t end very well.

Angel still has the cognizance to do exactly what that stagehand told him to do because he needs to get home now. He’s lucky a driver even lets him in the car with how rough he looks, but he manages not to throw up in the backseat for the entire ride. That’s a win in his book.

This late at night (or early in the morning), not many of the hotel’s employees are still awake. Alastor might be lurking around somewhere but that doesn’t really count. Husk is the only one up at this hour, but that’s about the only person Angel feels comfortable showing himself around while he looks and feels like this.

“Hey,” Angel greets, his tone noticeably less excitable than usual. “‘m not feelin’ great today, you got anythin’ other than booze here?” He hasn’t eaten or drunk anything since the previous day now and he knows he should at least get some non-alcoholic fluids into his system.

That…definitely wasn’t what Husk was expecting. He thought Angel would immediately ask for the strongest drink he could make, but for him to admit that he’s not feeling well? Husk decides to keep a close eye on him out of concern. “I’ve got coffee, milk, tea, and water,” he offers. “Take your pick.”

Angel’s stomach rolls at the thought of drinking anything other than plain water right now, so he opts for that. Husk eyes him for a moment longer than usual before handing him a glass of water. “How was work?”

“Terrible,” Angel admits. “I threw up all over the bed during the shoot and Valentino threw me outta there. Guess I ain’t getting paid this time.” There’s no way Valentino will pay him for screwing up. He’ll have to resort to other means to make ends meet for the month, then.

“What the fuck?!” Husk shouts, and he immediately lowers his voice because of the way Angel flinches. “That bastard did this to you? Because you got sick? The next time I see that guy, I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

“After today, I think I’d like that,” Angel says, taking a swig of his water like it’s alcohol and immediately regretting it. His stomach still isn’t feeling great. “Listen, I’m gonna head to my room now. You have any drugs I can take? Like, the actual medicine kind?”

He must be feeling worse than he’s letting on if he’s actually asking for medicine. Even now, he’s performing. “You head upstairs and I’ll meet you there. I’ll bring you some meds and some water.”

Angel looks like he’s about to say something for a moment, but stops himself. Instead, he nods and heads to his room. Husk knows the bitterness of the tea would probably upset his stomach even more, so he pours him a glass of water instead. He gets some nausea medicine and some fever reducers (just in case, the guy was looking a little worse-for-wear) and heads to Angel’s bedroom where he’s immediately greeted by the sound of retching from the bathroom.

“Angel?” Husk calls out, setting the glass of water and medicine on the nightstand and opening the door to the bathroom only to be greeted with Angel hunched over the toilet, expelling what little is left in his stomach. “Hey, ‘s okay. Just breathe.”

Angel gags, bringing up a small amount of stomach acid. “I feel like shit,” he moans, eyes streaming with tears from the strain of throwing up, his voice hoarse and raw.

“I know,” Husk sympathizes, “but you’re doing great. Just lemme know when you’re done and we can get you cleaned up.” He takes this opportunity to check his forehead for a fever and sure enough, he’s burning up.

It’s tough to see someone who’s usually so strong in Husk’s eyes barely able to keep themselves up in front of a toilet bowl, and he really feels for the guy. If he had any kind of power over Valentino, he would kick his ass into oblivion for working Angel to the bone while sick.

“Think I’m done,” Angel says, looking absolutely miserable. He looks like he might pass out, so Husk wants to get him to bed as soon as possible. Husk rips off a piece of toilet paper and uses that to clean around Angel’s mouth. It might just be the fever, but his face looks really red.

“Think you can stand up?” Husk asks. He’s surprised when Angel nods, attempting to stand up on his own, but he leans on Husk for support as he walks to bed.

For the first time that night, Husk sees Angel visibly relax and close his eyes. “No going to sleep yet, sweetheart,” he says, apologetic since he knows the only thing Angel must want to do right now is go to sleep. “I need you to take these.”

Angel swallows the pills with some water and sighs. “If I have to go into work tomorrow, I think I’ll actually die again. I feel like shit, Whiskers.” How honest. When he’s not feeling well, Angel tends to be a bit more truthful. Interesting.

“I know you do, Legs. Tell you what, you sleep in today and get some rest. If Valentino comes knocking, I’ll set Alastor on him. Sound good?”

“Mhm,” Angel mumbles affirmatively, but he’s already half-asleep and very out of it. He probably doesn’t know what he’s agreeing to, but there’s no way Husk is letting him go to work tomorrow when he’s this sick. He’s already thrown up twice and his fever felt pretty high. Whatever Valentino is going to do to him won’t be good.

Husk turns to leave when he feels a hand grip his wrist. “Wait…please stay…” Angel mumbles. How could Husk say no when he’s asked like that? He isn’t completely heartless. Just mostly heartless.

It doesn’t take long for Angel to fall asleep. He must have been exhausted, because it usually takes him much longer. Husk sits next to him, reading a book he’d been meaning to catch up on.

Husk flips through the pages of his book when Angel begins to stir again. He doesn’t appear to be awake but he looks distressed, as though he’s having a nightmare. Husk doesn’t wake him because he doesn’t want to disorient him even further, but a large small part of him feels badly seeing him like that.

Eventually, Angel wakes up with a gasp. “You’re alright, Legs,” Husk says, a steadying hand on his back. “You just had a nightmare. You’re in your room and you’re fine.”

He doesn’t feel fine, though. His stomach is in knots and he’s starting to sweat but he feels cold. He just dreamt about Valentino and he has to go to work the next day like this. There’s no way he can work like this! He’s going to get in so much trouble.

Husk can see Angel starting to work himself up even more, but he doesn’t know what to say to him to make it better. It’s only when Angel’s breaths start to morph into nauseous hiccups that Husk goes to get a trash can and places it under Angel’s mouth.

Angel starts to gag unproductively, bringing up strings of saliva. It isn’t a pretty sight, but Husk wants to be here for him. He has to. “It’s all right, Angel,” he says, “just let it out if you have to.”

Eventually, Angel finally does bring up a mouthful of bile and Husk winces. He hasn’t seen him this out of sorts in, well, ever. And he’s seen Angel in many different states.

It seems like that’s all he’s going to be able to bring up because the rest of his retches are dry and unproductive. Husk has to help him sit back in bed as he moves the trash can out of the way. “How’re you feeling?” he asks tentatively, though he has a feeling he already knows the answer.

“Like shit,” Angel says, as expected. “I think I threw up the medicine you made me take. Sorry ‘bout that.”

That’s when his phone starts blowing up. Husk is able to see the contact labeled “Valentino” on his phone, followed by several messages with some very aggressive language. He doesn’t miss the way Angel tenses up when a new text comes in.

“I-I should answer that,” he says, reaching for his phone before Husk snatches it out of his grasp.

“No way,” Husk says, “you’re not answering that asshole. I’ll take care of everything, promise. You deserve one day for yourself. Worst case scenario, tell that Valentino to shove a dick up his ass because you’re not going and that’s that.”

He’s worried he crossed some boundaries there, but Angel’s lips turn upward in a small smile. That’s enough to make Husk smile too. “Just get some rest, sweetheart.”

Husk isn’t stupid, he knows that means more work and possibly more punishment for Angel down the road. But for now, he’s in no state to show up for a shoot. Anything that comes later, they can handle. For now, he can just focus on resting and feeling better.

Angel doesn’t have to ask him to stay this time.

#emeto #emeto fic #emeto tw #sickfic

[danafeelingsick]

UH OH, SHOULD'VE STAYED HOME

[Takes place after episode 3, in which Clark Kent is sick with an actual stomach bug this time and Lois takes care of him.] AO3 | masterlist

Stay tuned for the art I made for this fic!

CONTENT WARNING: graphic descriptions of vomit, nausea, fever, stomach ache, sick at work shenanigans, belly rubs, back rubs, some emphasis on comfort, caretaker Lois for the most part, somewhat horny descriptions? (nothing out of the ordinary), established relationship (to-be?)

WORD COUNT: 7,7k~

A/N: so, you know how in episode 2, Clark uses tummy ache as an excuse and hurries off? and like a few scenes later Lois muses about taking care of him? I took that personally, this might be my longest one shot yet.

omg i love them sm. great series, recommend. 8/10, because it's too short and a bit rushed. this could contain spoilers? idk, superman media is super old already.

          Clark Kent was already half awake when his alarm went off, but couldn't bring himself to roll over and turn it off, or rather, smash it to pieces. His body felt so unusually heavy he was considering drifting back to sleep for just a few more minutes, to try and compensate for the restless night he had.

         It had been too much optimism to think he would be able to sleep on a full stomach, especially when he was sure he was coming down with something nasty. The worry alone had been enough to turn his stomach, worry that he mistook it for hunger, which turned out to be nausea. Now all of those late night snacks seemed like an even worst idea.

          His thoughts of regret and self-reflection were interrupted by his roommate coming down the bunk ladder, the clunky footsteps on the metal were even louder than the alarm, making his head pound. Clark buried his head under the pillows until it was manually turned off, and he swore he had heard it sigh in relief. One less broken alarm clock for the count.

          “We're gonna be late for work if you don't get up", Jimmy shouted from the other side of the room, rustling through his drawers.

          “Need five more minutes...”, Clark grunted, relieved when all he heard was a chuckle and his roommate stepping away, instead of blankets being snatched from him.

          Despite gaining those extra minutes, he sat up after two, suddenly bothered by the feeling of humid covers, even the shirt he had slept in was drenched in sweat. It was a choice between enduring the heat or a headache from the bright artificial light. He chose the latter and dragged himself out of bed.

           By the end of his extra time, he was already in the shower, sweaty clothes hanging from the laundry basket, with hot water falling on his back, his head swimming with the steam.

         Clark caught his mind wandering to the Daily Planet and the day full of errands that waited for him, and... Lois. The two hadn't known each other for long, but Clark already knew that he had to be careful around her. Careful wasn't the right word. Every day she was coming closer to pinning down Superman's identity, and he was growing out of ways to hide it.

           The kryptonian bit down on his lip when a wave of dizziness crashed over him, holding onto the wall with half a mind to not use his force on it. A soft groan escaped his lips as his hand wandered to his belly. Whatever he had eaten last night was not sitting well, it felt like his stomach was doing somersaults.

           On top of that, there was a tight full feeling resting on the upper part of his abdomen, it looked round and firmer to the touch as well, like whatever was there refused to digest. Embarrassed by the thought of it being noticeable under his sweater, he rested his hands over it until the feeling was mostly gone. It was enough for him to step out of the shower and dry himself off.

           It came back moments later, while he brushed his teeth. With a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair still wet, he suddenly felt shivers crawling up his back, and choked around his toothbrush. His mouth flooded with odd-tasting saliva, overpowering the minty taste.

           It felt like he was going to vomit, even though that notion was foreign since he had only gotten sick a handful of times as a kid, rarely as an adult. He spat the frothy toothpaste and stared inside the sink, realizing he could hear the churning in his stomach. He hadn't felt anything like this in a while, he could consider himself lucky.

         With shaky hands, he turned on the faucet and rinsed his mouth out, trying hard not to gag.

           That was bad, he couldn't vomit now… Clark focused on his breathing and on his hands holding onto the sides of the sink, his vision was starting to narrow, out of anxiety, or he was even sicker than he thought. He didn't think he could make it to the toilet, sprinting would only make things worse. If he ran into the wall, he would go right through, and that was a whole other issue.

         Shaking, he glanced up, catching his own piercing blue eyes in the bathroom mirror, looking glossed over and unfocused, his expression pained and miserable. He looked pale, he looked nearly green.

           His lips puckered as he fought against the urge to gag and lost, his tongue rolled out with a thread of saliva joining the sink. He really didn't want to puke, he was running late already, but that did little to stop his stomach from trying to turn itself out. He swallowed hard, a soft hiss escaping through gritted teeth, and wrapped one arm around his middle, trying to keep his footing. If he found out whatever had gotten him sick, he would never eat there again.

           “EuUrRgh!”

           Clark hunched over and dry heaved, feeling his stomach roll under his hand. His lips pursed as he felt something burn in the back of his throat, flooding his mouth. He closed his eyes and coughed a thin stream of lumpy vomit, something sickly sweet acidic mixed with minty toothpaste in his tongue, forming a disgusting taste 

           Before he even had the chance to spit he was retching again, bringing more of what he had eaten the night before in a watery and clumpy surge. He tasted the stale donut leftovers in it, and gagged, trying not to think about it. It was gone with the running water, he didn't need to see it.

           He turned off the faucet after washing his mouth but didn't move away from the sink. His head was pounding even worse now, but at least his stomach didn't feel as full, now it was tender and sensitive like an open wound. Not much of an improvement...

           “Clark, your phone is ringing and it's Lois~”, just as he was starting to relax, Jimmy knocked repeatedly on the other side of the door. ”I gave her your number, you don't mind right? Of course you don't mind.”

           To say the startled Superman jumped was an understatement, he flew, taking a chunk of the sink with him.

           "I-I-I'll be just a minute", he sputtered, scrambling to piece it together.

          His roommate was waiting for him as he came out of the bathroom, half-dressed, looking even worse than before. He must've noticed it right away, his blue eyes now looked a bit red at the bottom, like he was holding back tears.

          "So, are you going to tell me what's up or I'll have to guess?", Jimmy interrogated him with crossed arms, his phone dangling from his hand. "We're late, y'know?"

          A second of silence hung between the two before Clark sniffled. “I… think I'm sick.”

          Jimmy couldn't think of another time where he looked as much like an abandoned puppy. Now he regretted the accusatory tone. 

          "Another one of your migraines?”, he asked, relaxing his posture as he handed his phone back. Clark had frequent ones, and Jimmy never acknowledged it, but it sometimes made his blue eyes look like, well, he wasn’t sure either. That didn’t seem like one of those, however.

          “Don't know...”, Clark mumbled, and his eyebrows furrowed with pain as he stepped away. “Think I ate something bad.”

          Jimmy nodded, he had seen him raid their fridge last night but nothing there seemed bad so Donuts and sandwiches were the first thing that came to mind. He knew Clark had a big appetite and he was always snacking whenever he could, the possibilities were endless. That scene was quite familiar, seeing him trying to soothe a bellyache, rubbing circles over it with his eyes closed, and lips pouting. Only this time he did look like he was about to fall over.

          “I think you should stay home today—”

          “No, not going to leave you two to do all the work. It's not fair”, Clark interrupted, briefly scrolling through his phone, with a strained expression.

          “We'll manage without you. Besides”, Jimmy crossed his arms, his tone had something of suspicion in it. “You really don't look well.”

          “I can't...”, Clark interrupted, showing the screen.

         Lois had left a couple of texts, clearly written in a rush, but summarized meant: “Come ASAP, thought of a new plan. We're going to get that interview!”

          “Alright, since you're not going to listen. You hurry, and I'll hurry. Five minutes”, Jimmy sighed, already on his way to the bathroom. “Oh, and you're eating something on the way because our fridge is empty!”, he added, trying to ignore the welded gash in the middle of their sink.

          Clark grumbled but focused on tying his shoes instead of arguing.

          True to his word, Jimmy stepped out of the shower in five minutes, and another five later, they were leaving the apartment. Clark was already looking a little better now that he was outside, with sunlight and fresh air, though it didn't take long for him to get too hot inside that thick pullover he always wore. He cuffed his sleeves, still managing to do it neatly while Jimmy dragged him to the nearest sandwich shop.

          “I don't think eating and —uRp, walking is a good combination”, Clark commented, muffling a meaty burp into his fist. His face grew a bit red, but at this point, he couldn't tell if it had been out of embarrassment.

          “It's actually good for digestion. Look it up”, Jimmy argued, crumbs of bread and lettuce falling off his mouth.

          Clark wasn't convinced that would make any difference, his optimism was failing him today, but there wasn't much room for it when his stomach felt like it was waging war on that cheesy steak sandwich. Why did he have to pick the greasiest option out of a health and diet menu? Each bite was weighing on his belly like a rock.

          He covered another queasy burp that brought the taste of acid to the back of his tongue, the sandwich was sitting atop that stubborn mess of food, refusing to digest. He risked another bite, he needed food in him after throwing up earlier, but had to hold back a gag as he tried to swallow. Nope, he was done.

          “Do you, uh, want to eat my half?”, he offered, awkwardly pulling his jumper down, feeling like his waistline had grown several inches. 

          “Yeah, you're definitely sick. You usually eat mine”, Jimmy shoved the last bite into his mouth. I’m full too. Just wrap it, and you can eat it later.”

          Clark produced a disgruntled noise but complied, and stuffed the half-eaten, now lukewarm sandwich back in its paper bag. He suspected that he would indeed be tasting it again later, but the thought still made him shudder. By the time they reached the Daily Planet, the young  journalist had resigned himself to the fact that he was going to be feeling queasy for the rest of the day.

         Inside the break room, he went to store his leftover breakfast in the fridge, finding another sandwich already there with a note stuck to it. A fishy stench leaked through the homemade wrapping, permeating the air. Then it clicked:

          “To the prick who stole my Sandwich. This sandwich is for Steve. Not for Clark. Don't steal it, Clark. – Steve”

          Labeled a thief after he had eaten his by mistake, and left his weird combination of mayo, tuna, and avocado for him, sounded like something only a jerk like Steve would do. Clark rolled his eyes, made sense why he was feeling like shit now. He had thought his usual sandwich had gone and in the end, he could barely stomach it. The mix of textures was so odd, and the taste was just wrong, but he wasn't about to throw food away.

          He gagged at the memory, then again at the smell, and hurriedly shut the door. Fuck, not again. He jogged over to the trash can, not trusting himself to use super speed, and hunched over it, trying to breathe. The whole room smelled now.

          It took a minute of breath control, swallowing and spitting the excess saliva, but he thankfully managed to keep his breakfast, even though now his stomach was sensitive all over. He pulled on his sweater, trying to make room for it.

          Scowling, Clark filled a plastic cup with water, drinking it whole in tiny sips. The cold liquid was refreshing on his throat, which still felt a bit tender from the earlier spell. It took his mind off the swirling nausea for a moment. He stepped out of the break room with another cup, entertaining the thought of pinning charges of biological terrorism on Steve.

          “Found you, Superman!”, a familiar voice shouted from down the hallway. Clark felt his soul leave his body.

          He spotted Lois, he had spotted her giant green jacket first, but regardless, both were now marching in his direction.

          “I-I-I think you have the wrong guy”, Clark stammered, nearly dropping his cup.

          Lois stopped in front of him, both hands on her hips, now grinning. “And that's what I'm going to say when my plan works.”

          “A-Ah! Haha”, Clark fake-chuckled, then swallowed hard, it felt like his stomach was running laps now.

          “Wow, you went pale. Hope you're not hiding anything from me”, she half-joked, giving a playful look. ”So, what took you so long, Smallville? Didn't see you out jogging this morning.”

          “I, uh... overslept”, ‘Smallville’ muttered, cocking his head in slight embarrassment. It wasn't a lie, for the most part, but he didn't feel like Lois needed to know the extent of his bad morning.

          “Yeah, I can see that”, she commented, pinning him down with her gaze. “You do look a bit tired.”

          “I, uh....couldn't sleep well”, he admitted, resting his hand on the back of his neck. He suddenly felt hot and dumb, as if he had been cooking under the sun for too long.

         “Aw, is the stress already getting to you?”, she asked with a wince of sympathy, reaching one hand out to cup his cheek, but stopped midway, thinking twice about it.

         “I guess you could say that...”, Clark muttered with a small sigh, eyeing her with a bit of hope, he somehow wanted her to…? He wasn't sure. “So, uh, what's your plan? I thought you already had gotten your interview with Superman”, he tried to change the subject.

          “Oh that, I can't publish that! He lied to all of my questions”, the aspiring journalist said, waving a hand as she dug through her pockets, bringing out her voice recorder. “But I already revised them, there's no way avoiding these. And I already know how we're going to get another interview with him.”

          Clark felt a lump of cold anxiety drop in his stomach, and it must've shown on his face because Lois eyed him with curiosity.

          “What if he was being honest? He didn't seem like the type of guy to... lie”, he said, taking a sip of water to hide the shudder in his voice.

          “I thought that too, I mean, he looked so—!”, she paused, flushing. “Uh, nice. Anyway, and when have you even met him?”, she raised an eyebrow, but before he could respond she was already grabbing his hand. “It's easier if I just show you the murder board. I spent all morning laying it out. Come on.”

         Clark let out a yelp but didn't put up a fight as the shorter woman dragged him through the corridor. He couldn't tell if it had been her hand on his, or the way his body was already feeling awful, but his head suddenly felt hotter, his legs weaker. He didn't have it in him to resist.

         Inside their provisory office, among cabin files and dust bunnies, Lois sat Clark down in one of the chairs, and he was grateful for that, right as he thought he was going to keel over. Jimmy was already there, trying to make sense of whatever Lois had pinned to the murder board.

         “There, don't sleep, okay?”, she commented, and Clark was once again grateful for Lois' tunnel vision when it came to a story. She patted his back briefly before walking up to the board, bumping playfully into Jimmy on her way.

         The wheels squeaked as she pulled it to the front, slamming her hand on it, and dropping some of the thumbtacks in the process. “So, here is the plan.”

         Clark tried but couldn't pay attention to what his senior was saying, his gaze wandered across the board before it settled on the table, the only thing that didn't seem to be warping and tilting before his eyes. His head was starting to ache again, making it difficult to focus on anything. He blinked a few times, and brought an empty cup to his lips, feeling its contents sloshing in the back of his throat.

         Jimmy took up the talking before Lois had the chance to ask anything else, he couldn't tell if it had been on purpose, but he was thankful either way. Clark slipped a hand under the table, then under his pullover and shirt, gently rubbing his queasy tummy. He could feel the organ churning under the taut skin, the food sitting there like a rock. He regretted every second that led to it.

         The queasy-looking journalist silenced a sickly burp into his hand, swallowing back the trickle of viscous sizzling bile that threatened to come up. It tasted cheesy, greasy, and highly acidic, he couldn't think of a worse combination, but soon found one when he realized he could taste something spoiled as well. He had to suppress a fit of gagging, disguising it with a hand on his mouth when he caught Lois glancing in his direction.

         “Come on, we're not risking our lives just to get another interview with Superman, that's not happening —”, Jimmy tried to argue, but he only caught part of the discussion.

         Clark winced as a hot flash of nausea crashed into him, hitting him like a truck, though he had experienced that before, he didn't have a better description. His abdomen clenched, producing a string of bubbly complaints. He leaned forward, hugging his midsection tightly, feeling it gurgle unhappily under his thick sweater.

         A soft moan tumbled out of his lips when his abdomen tightened involuntarily, that same awful anticipation taking hold of him.

         “Um, are you okay there, big guy?”, Lois' voice broke through the stupor. “You've been silent.” 

         “S-Sorry”, the shaky young man whimpered, with his chin to his chest, curled even further into himself. “I-I really don't feel good right now...”

         Lois gave a hum of sympathy, putting whatever she had down before her soft steps trailed his way. Jimmy didn't sound as graceful, he ran along the table, stopping right by him.

         “Hey, what's wrong? What are you feeling?” she called with a slight tremble to her voice, and put a gentle hand on his shoulder, trying to get his attention.

        Clark winced at her touch but didn't try to pull away, looking up was a bad idea. It felt like the whole room was spinning, only making him feel dizzier.

         “My stomach hurts…”, he whimpered, his voice barely audible.

         “So, his stomach's been bothering him since morning”, Jimmy explained.

         “Oh, is that what those sounds were?”, Lois whispered, speaking off to the side, though her sick coworker still heard it, and froze under her hand, his face taking a whole another tone of red. Did she hear that?

         “Yeah, he threw up too", Jimmy continued, which prompted his friend to raise his head and give him a strained look of bewilderment, his friend only shrugged.

         “What!? And you still let him come into work?”, Lois' hand briefly left him as they went up, in a sign of exasperation.

         “Well, he insisted!”, he tried to defend himself, and Clark felt a pang of guilt.

         ”R-Really, it… wasn't as bad this morning”, he tried to argue, glancing up at the short woman, who was scowling now, thankfully not at him.

         “That is not—! Ugh, forget that”, Lois took another look at the puddle of sweat that used to be Clark, noticing that he was shivering noticeably now, his clothes already damp. “Hey, are you alright? Do you need anything?”

         “I-I don't know, I think I’m— urP!” he began to answer, not really sure where he was going with it when he was cut off by a wet hiccup. The woman opened her mouth as if to speak, but shut it as she heard a sound akin to a reverse gulp coming from Clark.

         That was the only warning he needed before his hand flew up to his mouth, in an attempt to stop the watery bile from flooding past his lips. He was up on his feet in a second, and out of the office in the other.

         Lois called after him a second too late. She had barely seen him run off, she had only noticed after he was already gone.

         The sick Kryptonian was too concentrated in not vomiting down the front of his sweater to realize that he was walking too fast for a regular human. Thankfully, the hallway was empty, he didn't have to worry about explaining anything to anyone. His boiling stomach lurched with every step, lunging against his abdomen as it sent its contents gurgling up his throat.

         He pushed past the door to the restroom, and thankfully found it empty, though he didn't reach the stall in time. Something hot and acidic surged past his throat, quickly filling his mouth with more than it could hold. His cheeks ballooned out behind his hand, his throat convulsed, forcing the sour watery vomit through cracks of his fingers and down the front of his sweater.

          Groaning with disgust, he pushed himself into one of the stalls, dropping to his knees just in time for his stomach to push out the rest of it. Clark didn't think he would end up like this, on his knees retching inside a toilet bowl, because of a stupid tuna sandwich.

         “BlEeuUrRrghH!”

         At least he was due some mercy, all that came up was mostly water, at first, spurting out of his nose. Hot acrid water that dyed the bowl a cloudy brown. Though it didn't look like it would leave a stain, it tasted absolutely awful, like drain cleaner with an aftertaste of grease. He gagged hard on the thought of it and began to dry heave.

         Scowling, a bead of sweat rolled down his forehead, infiltrating behind his lenses. He could feel himself shaking violently, a horrible nauseating heat latching onto his skin. He wanted nothing more than to take his sweater off, but he didn't think he could uncurl from the miserable position he was in.

         A pained moan dribbled out of his lips as he gave into another fit of loud dry heaving. His abdomen spasmed under his tight damp buttoned-up shirt, the fabric clinging to it by sweat. It was like he was being suffocated by it.

         Clark clung to the ceramic bowl, though his vomit-covered hand couldn't get a grip on it, and burped up a stream of viscous runny puke. He winced at the violent splash, it almost sounded like an open faucet. He gagged hard as he felt the solid parts passing through his gullet, bits of sandwich his sick stomach couldn't digest.

         “Kh—”, he coughed as the vomit finally tapered off into a sirupy trickle, and spat out what still clung to his tongue. The disgusting cheesy taste of his breakfast was so evident now, with some rotten aftertaste he didn't want to dwell on.

         For a moment or two, Clark hovered over the toilet, panting heavily.  Drool and sick hung from his lips, thin ropes waving along with his breathing, which was the only sound apart from the muffled churning of his upset guts. His belly kept clenching unproductively, struggling to bring up what remained inside of it, only worsening the dull ache of his sore muscles. The dizzying nausea hadn't eased one bit, though he kept heaving, it would be a minute before he had the strength to let any more out.

          A shaky hand came up, wiping vomit all over his sweater, then absentmindedly tugging at his neckline. Once, before a tiny button went flying. Reminded of his superhuman strength, he eased his grip on the toilet bowl and slinked back.

         It could've been minutes or just a few seconds, he couldn't tell exactly, but something pulled him out of his feverish daze. A knock on his stall, a careful one made the door creak as it was pushed ajar. He froze, ready for the worst his anxious mind could come up with.

         “Clark? Are you in there?” It almost didn't sound like Lois, but it was her. He didn't think he had ever heard her so livid before.

         He looked over to find a pair of familiar sneakers peeking under the gap, shifting nervously. He even saw the small manicured fingers sneaking in to pull it closed, allowing him a little more privacy.

         “H-Here Lois, ngh…”, he groaned, and though he still felt dizzy he put in the effort to flush out the toilet, hoping the smell hadn't already permeated the whole restroom. “I'm here.”

         “Oh, good! I've been looking for you everywhere”, she exclaimed, her voice still shaky.

         “Sorry for running off, I felt really sick all of sudden”, he replied, sitting back on his knees. It was a struggle to keep his voice from cracking when it felt like he had swallowed sandpaper.

        “You don't have to apologize for that”, she sighed, her feet kept fidgeting. “Are you alright? Did you… um, throw up?”

         “Y-Yeah”, he admitted, his face flushing with embarrassment, and grabbed a few pieces of paper to wipe his mouth with. “I think it was something I ate.”

         “Jimmy told me so, said you weren't feeling well this morning”, she commented, and he heard her fidgeting with something in her pockets. “He went out to buy medicine, I only found headache pills around here.”

         Any medicine would be a lifesaver right now, but Clark couldn't even stomach the thought of swallowing anything.

         “Anyways, I brought you some water”, she added, followed by the sound of a bottle being agitated. “Can I come in?”

         Clark gulped anxiously at the idea, he didn't want the girl he liked to see him like this, but the idea of being left alone was even scarier. 

         “Okay… come in.”

         The door opened then shut with a small click, Lois actually bothered to close it properly, even though the stall felt small with someone of Clark's size inside, the short woman made up for it

 While he took up half of the space, she barely filled a third. The squared space felt noticeably warmer too, just by being close to him she could feel the heat rolling off him.

         “Hey, big guy” she greeted softly, shedding her puffy green jacket as she crouched behind him.

         “Hey…”, he glanced over his shoulder, offering a tired but genuine smile under a sleeve he ran over his mouth. It tugged on her heartstrings seeing his misty eyes. “Sorry, I'm not doing so hot right now…”

         “It's okay, I'm here now to take care of you”, she told him, rubbing his arm, and offering a reassuring smile of her own. “Anything you need, okay?”

         He mouthed an “okay” before he had to swallow again, feeling his stomach jump, this time he could tell it was from the nerves rather than the nausea. Something about being in a tight space all alone with Lois, no matter how gross the actual situation was, made him anxious.

         Those thoughts were quickly banished as she busied herself cracking the bottle open.

         “Here, drink. You need to replenish your liquids”, she humored, handing him the water bottle.

         Clark mustered a nervous chuckle before he took it, too eager to notice her fingers might've lingered on his for a moment too long. She did note how much they were trembling, though.

         “So, how are you feeling?”

         “A little better now”, he responded after a small sip, trying to return her good humor, and Lois chuckled softly, raising an eyebrow. “I don't know…”, he gave a more sincere answer this time, resting a hand over his belly. “I feel… hot? and dizzy… and a little… hm, nauseous still.”

         Lois hummed, looking at his oversized hand distractedly rubbing his belly, picking up on the bubbling sounds she hadn't before.

          “I'm sorry you don't feel good. Food poisoning is never fun”, she cooed, in a tone that should've been mocking but quickly took a side of sympathy. He chuckled too, the bottle's rim still on his lips. “I think you might be overheating in that big sweater, though.”

         “You might be right…”, he panted.

         Her hand wandered to the rim of his jumper, playing with it before she offered, with a smirk: “Wanna take it off?”

         He gulped, then nodded, putting the water bottle down, and raised his arms just enough for her to pull it off.

         Without it, he almost looked like another person, his hair was up in spikes, his blue tie was messed up and his glasses were crooked. The white dress shirt he had underneath was nearly see-through, with a couple more buttons threatening to pop off. Lois looked away for a moment, convinced the heat was getting to her as well.

         “Better?”

         He hummed, while adjusting his glasses and combing his hair down, coming off a little weaker than he meant to. In reality, he was still feeling quite groggy, and his head was pounding, not to mention…

         “You don't sound sincere”, she commented, her eyes now fixed to his hand, which in play was fidgeting with the buttons of his undershirt. “Does your belly hurt?”

         “A little…”, he started to reply, but as if to punctuate his answer, it gave a low grumble that Lois heard and had to disguise a snort. “Hah, I guess… a lot”

         “You're a bad liar, Clark”, she pointed, smirking.

         He would have blushed if his face wasn't already a feverish red. Instead, he lowered his eyes and simpered.

         “I think we have a hot water bottle somewhere in the break room”, Lois commented after a moment of silence, bumping him in the shoulder to lift his spirits. “It helps a lot with cramps.“

         Clark made a noise at the mention of it, a mix between a grumble and a snort that drowned out as he took a swig of water. While it soothed his sore throat, it was getting hard to ignore the way it seemed to slosh inside of him, sitting heavily on top of his undigested meal.

         Another noise, one of surprise, escaped him when a small hand came to rest on his cheek. Instead of flinching at the feeling of cold fingers, he nearly melted, putting his hand over hers before she could retrieve it. In turn, Lois widened her eyes at the heat rolling off his skin.

         “What are you doing?”, he asked, holding her there.

         “Checking if you… have a fever”, she responded, with a mix of surprise and embarrassment at his reaction. His hand completely covered hers. “Can I?”

         “Ah, right… Go ahead”, he gave a sheepish look before letting go.

         Now flustered, her hand glided up, resting the back of it against his forehead, his once fluffy bangs were flat and soaked in sweat. A soft hiss left her mouth, all that was left was steam to come out, his skin was nearly sizzling, and she didn't even think it was humanly possible.

         “Do you think I have a fever?” Clark humored her. “That would explain a lot…”

         “Definitely, I don’t even need a thermometer to know”, she half-joked, brushing off a few damp strands of hair. ”You're burning up, and covered in sweat too…”

           “Feels really hot in here”, he muttered, growing a little groggy from what she was doing to his hair. “Your hand is cold, feels nice."

         Lois gave a small hum, cupping his cheek again, and caressing her thumb over his cheek. He seemed to relax as she did it, closing his eyes and sighing, though his eyebrows were still furrowed, and his throat kept moving.

         “I might have an ice bag for you if we go to the break room", she mentioned. “How about it? There's a nice sofa there to rest.”

         Clark considered the offer for a second, or rather, the mental image of falling asleep on her lap, he would've said yes then and there. Then he felt his stomach tighten, and was reminded of the nausea swirling in the pits of his stomach.

         “I don't know, Lois… I really don't think it's safe with me, guh, like this”, he replied, looking up at her with a frown.

         “Aw baby, are you still feeling sick?”, her voice took a more comforting tone as she ran her fingers through his bangs. “Do you think you might throw up?”

         “I– I don't know…”, he echoed, swallowing thickly, enough in his mind for him to miss the nickname. “I think…?”

         Lois sighed, still holding him, she could feel him letting more and more of his weight onto her, and worried he might be getting weaker. Her eyes wandered down to his collar, where a faulty button left a peek of his chest out, and quickly went back.

         “You hadn't eaten much today, have you?”, she asked.

         “Just, gulp, half a sandwich since I woke up”, he responded, his expression crumpling in disgust, as if recalling his previous meal wasn't the right move.

         “Do you think that might've been it?”, she asked as he pulled away from her, going back to fidgeting with his buttons.

         “No…”, his lips trembled as he said, like he was trying not to gag. “I– , had something from the fridge yesterday. I— muRp, excuse me.”

         He pressed a fist to his mouth, closing his eyes and swallowing convulsively as he recalled the taste of that horrible tuna sandwich.

         Before Lois had the chance to ask anything else, he was crossing his arms over his middle, groaning with nausea. She scooted closer, wrapping an arm around him in a somewhat awkward but still comforting hug. He leaned on her, even if everything in him said to pull away before he vomited all over.

         “Ugh… my stomach's churning again”, he moaned, curling into a tight ball. “I really don't want… puke.”

         “Well, if you need to”, she told him and heard an airy gulp in response. His face scrunched in what looked like disgust, but it could've been frustration from the way he shook his head. “Hey, I know it's bad, but it's your body's way of helping you through this.”

         Clark mused about his options, his expression still pinched in pain. He could feel his stomach bubbling, the bile constantly at the back of his throat, like a boiling pot threatening to spill over. He looked up at her, at the cute frown she had on, and felt guilty worrying her like this. 

         “Lois, I think you shH— uRp!”, he opened his mouth and his body made the decision for him, letting a wet burp come up without warning. He cupped his mouth, wide-eyed.

         Before he even could apologize, he was muffling another into his hand, trying to swallow the acidic saliva flooding over his tongue. Lois, on a calmer note, placed a hand on his back, gently guiding him to lean over the toilet.

         “It's okay, just let it happen”, she told him, rubbing slow circles in an attempt to put him more at ease. It didn't seem to be working, she could feel his muscles tensing under her.

         Clark was about to ask her to stand outside, he really didn't want her to see him like this, but he didn't seem to have a choice. Hell, they weren't even dating yet, and she was already seeing such a gross side of him.

         Groaning, he draped his arm over the seat and hunched over, resting his head on the meat of his wrist. This way his head was mostly inside the toilet, affording him a smidge of privacy. He stared at the clear water below, taking deep careful breaths, feeling his stomach churn, his breakfast working its way up his throat.

         “Ngh—”, he whimpered when his abdomen caved in, bringing a weak airy gag and a river of salty saliva to his lips.

         It couldn't get worse at least, he told himself. Lois was there, rubbing his back and trying to keep him calm, seemingly unbothered by him being a contagious funk. Clark clenched his eyes shut, tears prickling his eyes, and dry heaved loudly, feeling her flinch at the harsh noise echoing inside the bowl.

         “That's it, try to get it up”, Lois urged in a gentle voice, stroking his back as he retched again, louder but unproductive. “Keep going.”

         He tried again, sucking in his abdomen and whimpering pitifully when it felt like a punch to the gut instead of the relief of emptying it.

         “Easy…”, she instructed, her other hand wandered down, grazing his sore pained tummy over the tight shirt.

         Clark shivered as he felt her touch it, letting out another needy whimper that made her pull away.

         “I-It's okay, you can, gulp, touch there”, he managed to say before he was gagging again, his voice thick with nausea.

         “Ah, got it”, she responded, now sounding flustered. “I’ll be gentle.”

         Her hand found his stomach flat under the shirt, humid and warm, clenching in preparation for another harsh dry heave. A soft whistle escaped her lips as she realized she could feel the muscles of his toned abdomen underneath the clammy skin, even his stomach lunging as he gave another, this time wet-sounding heave.

         Humming with sympathy, Lois tried to rub her open palm up and down, trailing from his belly button to just below his ribcage, gently kneading into his bruised tummy as she went. The surface felt firm, his stomach was full and bloated underneath. No wonder he was feeling so uncomfortable, there seemed to be a lot in there making him sick.

         Her poor boyfriend-to-be let out a queasy moan and belched, the sound turning thick and wet as he forced it out.

         “There, try to get it up”, she instructed, patting his belly and widening her eyes as she felt it gurgle underneath her fingertips. That seemed like it did the trick.

         “H— urp! EUrGhH!” Clark made a miserable sound as he retched into the bowl, the violent heave turned hauntingly wet as vomit gurgled out of his mouth.

         Lois winced as she heard it connect with the water inside the bowl in a sharp splash, hearing him choke up and spit out the rest of it. While that seemed to have been just the liquid he had drank, the strong acrid smell still reached her quickly, making her shift with a slight discomfort.

         “There you go, let it out”, she whispered, trying to keep the disgust away from her voice.

         Clark dry heaved again and his whole body seemed to follow the motion. His back arched forward, his musculature showing through the damp shirt, shoulders hitching as he strained. She felt his stomach lurch under her palm and braced as he brought up more of his stomach contents in a lengthy surge, some of it spurting out of his nose with a hiss.

         He couldn't get a breath in as a second wave came up without warning, sounding thicker on his throat and heavier as it fell into the bowl, making a somewhat soft splatter. Lois didn't want to dwell on what it meant, but from how much he was straining she already had an idea. She could feel his stomach deflating under her fingertips, pumping itself empty.

         “There you go, let it all out”, she encouraged him, rubbing his back, to which he responded, or at least tried to, with a weak groan.

         “I'm, hrk— s-sorry…”, came the garbled apology, punctuated by harsh gagging.

         “Aw, baby… It's alright, don't apologize”, she frowned, tempted to just scoop him up into a hug, but another loud dry heave made her think twice. “You're doing great.”

         “No, I'm— urgh, this is so gross…”, he moaned, sounding completely clogged. “You shouldn't have to… hRk, see this, muRp!”

         “Aw, Clark, it's okay, really. I don't mind being here with you. I wouldn't just leave you like this either”, she responded, sounding timid as the sentence went on. He, on the other hand, didn't have much time to dwell on it as another flash of hot nausea slammed into him.

         Clark could barely keep his eyes open, but at a time like this he was almost thankful, his vision was blurry with unshed tears, which meant he couldn’t see much of the mess he was making. Retching harshly, he choked up another thick stream of his undigested sandwich and stomach juices, feeling the clumps passing through his throat.

         He sucked in a greedy gasp of air, choking up another lengthy wave of vomit not a second later. There was so much that for a moment he couldn't breathe as it gushed out his nose, burning through his airways. He coughed violently as it tapered off, noticing the disgusting taste hanging from the tail end. He knew better than to think too much about it, but now he could taste a pull of spoiled fish at the end.

         “EuRrGhH!”, he moaned, mustering a third consecutive wave before he was left panting so hard his lungs were whistling in his throat.

         “Hey, remember to breathe”, Lois told him, but Clark seemed too caught up in his own misery to take her advice.

         It felt like his stomach was trying to turn itself out. He clenched his eyes shut, tears of exertion gathering on his eyelashes, his throat still working through the last bits of vomit.

         “Breathe…”, she instructed him, her hand still on his stomach, grounding him.

         Clark lunged forward, nearly losing his grip as a harsh retch tore out of him, choking up a trickle of viscous bile into the toilet. He kept gagging for a solid minute, runny puke dribbling inside the toilet as his stomach continued to wrang itself empty, trying to get rid of any traces of that disgusting sandwich he had eaten yesterday.

         A moment or two passed of Lois shushing him while he continued to heave weakly, the involuntary motions growing more sparse. It felt like his stomach was finally empty, even though it kept clenching, leaving his abdomen sore.

         “Think you're done, big guy?”, she said, patting his back.

         “Mrgh… hm-hmm”, he made a pained noise before humming, though it still took another minute before he felt confident enough to raise his head.

         His face was an utter mess of orangish-brown vomit, drool and snot hanging from his nose and lips in thick slimy ropes, some of it coating his chin. He instinctively brought a cupped hand under it, trying to keep the mess from dripping on his shirt, but Lois was quicker, handing him a handful of rolled paper.

         “Think you got it all out?”, she asked sheepishly, while he blew his nose.

         “Think so…”, he rasped, his voice completely shot. 

         “Um, here, rinse your mouth out”, she instructed, bringing the water bottle to his lips and tipping it so he could take a sip. ”You don't have to swallow, just to get the taste out.”

         After he swished and spat out, she flushed the toilet, glancing at the swirling vomit inside and grimacing. She could make out bits of green lettuce among the murky orange mess, and lowered the lid before she had the chance to see anything else.

         Turning her gaze back to him, she found his junior intern sitting there like a lost kid, misty-eyed and sniffling, staring at the ground through half-lids. His color hadn’t improved much, in fact, he looked more green than pale now, with a feverish blush still burning on his cheeks.

         “Hey?”, she called, waving her hand in front of him. He raised his head weakly, blinking. “Are you alright now? Still feeling nauseous?”

         “Huh? No, I… think I'm empty now", he responded, though that didn't exactly respond to the question. His stomach was settled now, though it felt sore, like he had just done the worst workout of his life.

         “That's good, I think? At least you got out whatever was making you sick”, she commented, to which he had to put a hand to his mouth, covering a gag. “You must have a pretty weak immune system, huh? I mean, you were last week too.”

         “O-Oh, yeah, I was, yeah”, he feigned a chuckle, recalling the lie he had told her, when he needed to fly back home. His face quickly dropped. “Lois, I'm sorry you had to see this, I really didn't know what to—”

         “Clark, it's okay, really. You don't have to apologize for being sick, or for needing help. None of it is your fault. I'm here, okay? For whatever you need”, she silenced him, cupping his cheek again. A small smile played on his lips, before he nodded, finally convinced. “Now, do you think we can go? It's not exactly hygienic to be on a restroom floor.”

         “Ah! Y-Yeah, you're right“, he chuckled, putting his hands on his knees as he struggled to his feet. Lois followed, lending him a shoulder to lean on.

         “Come on, big guy. If you play your cards right, I might even make you some chicken noodle soup when we get to your place”, she said playfully.

         “Wait, really? That does sound good”, he replied, blue eyes sparkling with a naive and hopeful look.

         “We'll see”, she smirked. “But now, what you need is to lay down and rest.”

         He didn't argue, looking forward to the possibility of falling asleep on her lap, to her small fingers brushing through his hair, to her scent. At least there was some good to be taken out of this situation.

#emetophilia #tw emeto #sickfic #emeto fic #m.y a.dventures w.ith s.uperman #m/y a/dventures w/ith s/uperman #c.lark k.ent #c/lark k/ent #l.ois l.ane #l/ois l/ane #sick at work #dana//writing #dana//emeto fic #my writing #tw vomit #emeto art #fever whump #stomach ache whump #male sickie

[sevcasejay1chicago]

Hi! Very happy to see you posted again.

Would love to see another Matt, Jay, and Kelly fic w/ morning sickness— maybe a follow up to the last one— where the reader’s morning sickness has gotten worse and one day after waking up in the middle of the night very ill she gets really shaky and lightheaded and the boys try to figure out if they should call 911, call Will, or drive to the ER.

Please no rush— you’re under no obligation to puts fics out fast. Health comes first. I hope life gets better for you soon <3

Here’s the part two you asked for FOREVER ago. I’m sorry for the wait my love!!! I hope you enjoy!!

Morning sickness- Jay, Matt, Kelly

Warnings: vomiting, SUPER fluffy

——————

You all hoped the morning sickness would go away. The boys hated seeing you so scared all the time. You were scared to eat, drink, sleep, and sometimes move. Even after you hit your 14 week mark, it just seemed to get worse. The boys refused to leave you, unless they absolutely had to. Matt and Kelly had decided to take different shifts at 51 to ensure that someone was always with you incase Jay got called in on a case. The intelligence unit was very forgiving and caring, trying their best to not pull Jay away from you unless Matt and Kelly were both home. Things seemed to flow better when two people were home with you. Someone always had you attached to their side while the other could do things to help you and keep up with things around the house.

One day, Kelly ended up needing to head to the store for you while Jay and Matt were at work. You both agreed that you could manage by yourself for the length of time he would be gone, though you weren’t completely confident. You had been feeling pretty sick and had yet to keep anything down, which led Kelly to go get a few things that you could sometimes keep down since you seem to be out of all of those things. You didn’t want to be any more of a burden than you already felt like you were, which made you agree to him leaving for a few minutes.

Everything went fine for the first 10 minutes, until the nausea got bad. You immediately texted Matt, letting him know you weren’t feeling good, as he was the one keeping track of all of your medical issues. In his worry, he decided to head home early, though he did not tell you that. He knew you were having some strong emotions with them changing their lives to take care of you, but he just couldn’t bare to be away from you any longer. This is the worst day you’ve had in a couple days.

Meanwhile, Jay had barely had the chance to set his keys and wallet down on the kitchen counter when he heard running footsteps. Assuming that he was alone since Kelly’s car was gone and you were never alone, Jay crept up the stairs with his gun in hand. He was quick to holster it when he heard vomiting coming from the master bathroom. He knew it could only be you. The sight of you shaking while trying to hold yourself up broke his heart.

“Oh god.” He whispered, heart pounding at the sight of your weak form. “Sweetheart. Sweetheart. It’s okay. I got you. I got you.” He said, running to you. He grabbed the hair you were trying to force out of the way, noticing how it was falling out of the hurried bun you threw it in. “I have your hair. It’s okay.” Jay shushed, rubbing your back and caging you between his legs.

Seconds later, Matt ran in. He could hear the commotion coming from the entryway. “Oh sweet girl.” You blindly reached for him as you heard his voice. “Aw, that’s alright. It’s alright. Just let it out.” Matt cooed, hating to see you so distressed as you heaved violently in Jay’s grip.

Jay leaned forward a bit when you started shaking violently, barely holding yourself upright. “It’s okay. It’s alright. I gotcha.” Jay soothed, strong arms coming around your chest after he let Matt take your hair.

You coughed, heaving in air during a little break. “Mmm, I don’t-“ you broke off into a sob that turned into a gag.

“Oh baby. I know. I know.” Matt shushed, petting your hair back. “It’s alright. It’ll be over in a minute.”

Simultaneously, Jay was whispering in your ear. “It’s alright. We’re here. We’re here. I know sweet angel. I know.” Jay soothed, kissing your shoulder.

“Mm-make it s-st-stop.” You grunted out, clutching your stomach.

“Shhh. I know baby. I know it’s uncomfortable and it hurts. I’m so sorry sweetheart.” Matt shushed, seeing that Jay was doing everything not to break at your cries. He was a strong man, but you turned him into jello in your hands.

“Oh God.” Kelly said, sliding through the door. “I was gone for 30 minutes. I’m so sorry baby.” Kelly explained before coming to sit on the lip of the tub on your left. “It’s okay.” He soothed, taking the hand you reached out to him. You seemed to finally start to empty, mostly dry heaving. “Yep. All out baby.”

“You all done?” Matt asked, reaching for some toilet paper to wipe your face clean.

Instead of answering, you tried to push yourself to your feet to rinse your mouth out. “Whoa whoa. Don’t get up. Your pale and shaky. Just sit right here and let me rub your back, yeah?” Jay said, catching you by the waist and sitting down with you. You turned sideways in his lap, allowing him access to your back. “There we go. Oh I know it. I know your stomach hurts. It’s okay baby.” Jay soothed as you whimpered, kissing your temple.

You looked at Matt through hazing, tear filled eyes. “Aren’t y-you s-su-supposed to be at w-work?” You managed to get out, trying to wrap your brain around what was going on.

“Shhh don’t try to talk. You don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine babe. Let’s worry about you and talk more later.” Matt shushed gently, worried about how pale you were and how sluggish your eyes and brain were. They needed to get some sugar in you. “Think your completely done? Maybe we can try some Gatorade.” Matt said.

Just the mention of putting something in your stomach had you heaving again. You pushed off of Jay and leaned over the toilet again, heaving hard.

“Oh. Okay okay. It’s okay baby.” Jay soothed.

“That a girl.” Kelly praised, clutching your hand again.

“Hurts.” You wheezed out, clutching your stomach with your free hand.

“Yeah. I know baby. I know it hurts. It’s okay.” Matt soothed, looking to Kelly. “Think we should take her to Med or call for help? She isn’t looking good.” Matt said, knowing you likely weren’t actually hearing him as you went through another round of violent heaving.

Both boys looked at you as you sucked in air, finally calming your stomach some. You stared off into space, seeming to lose track of reality.

“Baby. Are you okay?” Kelly asked, cupping a hand under your bicep.

Jay felt you sagging and immediately pulled you into his chest. You were hot from all the puking, but you were barely sweating. “Call Will. Tell him to bring an IV bag over here. She’s dehydrated.” Jay instructed, standing with you in his arms. You whined at the sudden movement, but clung to Jay’s neck.

“No. I’ll drive your truck with lights. Matt, call Will and have him get a room ready at med.” Kelly said, using a tone that left not room for arguments.

The ride was fast and Will barely had the room set up to check the baby and get you hydrated before Jay was running in the door with you. Nat saw you being carried through the door and ran into the room, helping put the baby monitor on you while Will put an Iv in.

Hours later, the baby seemed to be settling and you were starting to come around. You weren’t happy that you had an Iv in your hand, but you were pleased to see Jay and Matt sleeping peacefully while Kelly stood with his back to you.

When he heard you shuffle around in the bed, he quickly wiped his face and turned to you.

“Oh baby. Hey sweetheart.” Kelly cooed, barely above a whisper. He immediately came to your side, taking your hand.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, wiping left over tear tracks off of Kelly’s face after he kissed you briefly.

“I’m sorry I left you.” Kelly whispered, bottom lip quivering as he spoke.

“No no no.” You whispered. “Come here.” You demanded gently, tugging him into the hospital bed with you. “It’s not your fault. You were trying to take care of me the best you could. I should have spoke up.” You said, cuddling into his side, careful of the wires and tubing.

“Damn right you should have.” Jay mumbled, staying seated as Matt laid resting on his shoulder. “Don’t ever do that again.” Jay whispered, pout on his lips.

“Yes dear.” You replied, hiding in Kelly’s chest as Jay gave you his “dad” eyes. The “you just wait” eyes, but not in a good way. You knew he was playing, but you also knew you scared the crap out of your lovers. You just hope this kid chills out.

Tag list:

@treehouse-mouse

@shadowmeadowsworld

@sorry-i-spaced

@zephyrmonkey

@allisonargent144

@amie134

@lane-rodgers-barnes

@pensfan5871

@dumb-fawkin-bitch

@marvel-and-chicago-fan

@daggersquadphantom

@stellakiddsblog

@100yroldteenagers

@senjoritanana

@celtic-shadow-wolf

#one chicago #one chicago x reader #matt casey #kelly severide #jay halstead #fluff #matt casey x reader #jay halstead x reader #comfort #kelly severide x reader #emeto fic #emetophobia tw

[the-duchess-of-domination]

Pacing

i know this isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, so TW for very mild emeto.

i really like the idea of a guy who can’t sit still when he feels sick. instead of lying down and trying to sleep it off like most, he paces back and forth, trying to logically deduce what’s wrong with his stomach. no matter how many times you tell him to sit down and rest, he shakes his head and wanders around with his hands laced behind his head, taking deep, labored breaths. he refuses to give into the fact that he feels sick.

you’re sitting on the sofa, and all of a sudden out of the corner of your eye you see he stops pacing. his face falls.

“Oh God—“ he chokes out. he rushes down the hallway. you hear the toilet seat hit the back of the tank.

#emetophilia #emeto kink #emeto fic #sickfic #tummy ache #belly ache #fantasies from the duchess 👑

[dutifullyshamelessearthquake]

I’d love to see some Lyney motion sickness if possible, I feel like he’d be really cute in that state😵‍💫

Alt. 01. Motion Sick

@monthofsick

Warnings for; Vomiting

Finally some Lyney!! It's been a while since I wrote this silly boy, it was really fun to write him again. I love him so much.

Happy reading and I hope you enjoy!!

#earthquake author's note #sickfic #genshin sickfic #genshin emeto #emeto #nausea #emeto fic #sick lyney

[bellysoupset]

Part 3 of Concussed Vince, the final part at least for now!

-----

He was going to vomit.

Vince moaned, feeling like his head was swimming and let it roll on the pillow, pressing his eyes closed. Every second since he had woken up, five minutes before, had been hell.

"Oh hey," Leo's voice cut through the mind fog, relief dripping from it, "you're finally awake."

"Hhhgn..." Vince groaned, unsure if he should be opening his mouth or not. He squeezed the bed under him to ground the world and forced his eyes open, swallowing the bitter taste in his mouth, "what- What happened...?"

"You had a concussion, after all," Leo shrugged, but despite his casual tone, he looked very serious, "the paramedics brought you in, uhm... I don't know yesterday? I'm not sure anymore."

Vince frowned, "I've been unconscious a whole day?"

"Yeah," Leo yawned in his hand, "something like that... Jon's in the clinic tonight, I'm gonna ask a nurse to let him know you're awake. Luke and Bell are in the cafeteria and Wendy is driving back from NY, she should be here soon."

"You called my girlfriend?" Vince whined, "not cool man..."

Leo glared at him, blue eyes sparkling with anger and Vin recoiled. He hadn't seen Leo pissed often, but he knew he didn't want to be on the blonde's bad side.

"You scared the crap out of us, Vince," he said in a way that ended all conversation, "how are you feeling?"

"Pukey," Vince admitted, "but I don't think I have anything to throw up."

"Probably not," Leo snorted, but reached across the room to grab a silver emesis basin, which he planted on Vince's lap, "they want to keep you here until the end of the week."

"Fuck no, I have-"

"It's non negotiable," Leo said harshly and Vince cringed. He could tell whatever had happened had scared the hell out of his friends to have Leo, the sweetest of them, be this curt.

"Okay..." Vince grimaced, then reached to rub his hand over his face, only to feel his shoulder pull. He sucked in a gasp and squeezed his eyes shut, as a hot wave of pain echoed through his shoulder and up his neck, down to his stomach... His belly cramped and he let out a whimper.

"What is it?" Leo's sternness vanished as if it had never been there, worry taking it's place, "Vin?"

"Gon'besick," he groaned, unable to hold the basin with the pain all over his shoulder and side, instead just hanging over it. He heard Leo curse, then move forward to hold the emesis bowl right under his chin.

"What's wrong?" Leo's voice sounded distant, as if Vince was underwater and he tried to take a deep breath, only find it cut short. Another one and his mouth pooled with saliva. Far away he heard Leo say something else, but the buzzing in his ears was too loud.

The next breath stopped in his throat, then he coughed and hot, bitter, bile rushed up, splattering in the bin. Vince coughed again, the nausea fading, but the pain not quite and he could hear Leo speaking still.

"-know, he just turned really white out of nowhere-"

Vince blinked quickly, realizing one of his eyes had started to leak tears. His nose burned too and he could only breathe in that horrible bitter smell.

"I got him," Lucas' voice caused Vince to snap his head, which was a mistake because his head swam a little more. He burped up another dribble of bright yellow bile in the basin and groaned as it scratched his throat.

Vince felt his best friend's hand in the middle of his back, steadying him, while the other had replaced Leo's on the basin, holding it up. Lucas had a deep crease between his eyebrows and he looked much older than usual, he hadn't clean shaved as his usual and the dark shadow of a beard colored his chin, lips pressed in a thin line.

"Here, blow your nose," Luke said, then held a wad of tissue paper to Vince's nose and he couldn't do more than blow, despite how childish he felt having Luke clean him up like that, "take a small sip of water."

He obeyed without thinking, sighing in relief when the refreshing liquid pushed back down the nauseous feeling and the acid in his throat, "everything hurts."

"Yeah, you're concussed all the way to Tuesday," Leo teased lightly, "no shit."

Vince looked up tiredly. While Lucas had taken Leo's spot by the bed, the blonde had circled it and was sitting at Vince's foot, a soft smile on that didn't quite reach his eyes. It made Vin's heart sink, that so many people were worried about him.

"I'm fine now," he reassured them, or rather, tried to. It came out raspy and weak and Leo rolled his eyes, while Luke let out a scoff and squeezed his good shoulder.

"Good to see you awake, bro," he said and Vince leaned into his touch, shoulders dropping in resignation and exhaustion. Lucas eyed the bowl, "water staying down?"

"Think so," Vince nodded, then winced as it made his brain rattle around his skull, "...I'm already tired, how's that possible?"

"Well, you need rest," Luke shrugged, taking the bowl and putting it away to be collected, "Jon said you broke your ribs."

"Just one," Vince yawned, only for Leo to cringe.

"Yeah, uh- Not anymore."

"Excuse me?"

"You finished breaking the other one with all the heaving and- and-... Apparently you had a seizure in the CT Scan room...?"

"You're joking?" Vince gasped, while Lucas only looked more furious.

"And apparently, you had already had a seizure?" Lucas' raised his eyebrows, "Jonah said so."

"Whatever happened to patient confidentiality?" Vince scoffed, cheeks blushing, "it was fine, it was because of a silly infection I had... Almost a year ago, it was before I even started dating Wen..."

Leo rolled his eyes, "well, they're keeping you here to watch over you. They're worried this might turn into post traumatic epilepsy."

Vince looked up, meeting Lucas' worried gaze, "I'm fine," he stressed, "I swear, I'm fine, it's not fucking epilepsy-"

"Vince," Luke glared at him, "there's no world where you walk out of this hospital before the end of the week, it doesn't matter how much you bitch about it."

Vince's mouth snapped shut and he sulked, sinking into the pillows, "this is unfair and the hospital bill is going to cost a fortune and for what? I slept off worse concussions bef-"

"Stop worrying about the hospital bill," Lucas sighed, "I took care of it-"

"You did what!?"

Leo flinched at the tone of Vince's voice and shot up, glaring at his friends, "I told you he wouldn't like this," he whispered to Lucas, grabbing his coat, "I'm gonna- Uh- Yeah, go anywhere but here."

He slipped off the room just as he heard Lucas say defensively, "it's my money and I do whatever the fuck I want with it and if I want-"

Leo grimaced in sympathy with Vince. He knew he wouldn't like if someone footed his own hospital bill, no matter how good their intentions or how much money they had to spare. Regardless, right now he was removed from the situation enough to know this had been a good thing.

He found Bella at the end of the waiting room lounge. She too looked sleepless, bone tired just like the rest of them. Leo sat down next to her, "hi."

"Hey kid," Bell smiled and Leo rolled his eyes. He couldn't believe that even Bella called him that, "how is he?"

"Awake and bitching," Leo yawned, leaning his head back and massaging his temples, "Luke stayed with him..."

Bella nodded, pinching the bridge of her nose, "I just got out of the phone with his mom."

"Oh?" Leo refused to open his eyes, exhausted "and?"

"She was distraught, to say the least. His parents want him back home."

"Yeah, Vin is gonna love that," he answered sarcastically, "are they coming over?"

"I think just his mom or both his parents, but not his sisters," he could hear clearly Bella's defeat, "it's going to be a mess."

"Uhm," Leo sighed, thinking back on Jonah, panicking at the elevator, "he can stay with us, we wouldn't mind."

"I don't think Wendy is gonna like that, or Mrs. Monacelli or-"

"Got it," Leo chuckled, opening his eyes, "well, the offer stands. I'm gonna go get a coffee and find my boyfriend. Do you need anything Bells?"

"No," she shook her head, tired, "I think I'm just gonna nap until Luke gets back."

"Okay, suit yourself," Leo patted her knee, getting up in a jump.

He found the coffee machine on the first floor and Jonah just finishing up a handful of papers in the second one, leaning over nurse station's desk.

"Got you a coffee," Leo said, planting the cup in front of him and Jonah huffed, without looking up.

"Only authorized personal is allowed in here, Wagner."

"Uh-hum," Leo rolled his eyes, unbothered by Jon's bitchiness, "you might wanna know Vin is awake."

Jonah's head snapped up, "he is?"

"Yeah," Leo bit down an amused smile, "and not happy. About any of this."

Jonah let out a scoff, barely masking his relieved sigh and turned his attention back to the papers, "I'm guessing Luke's in there babying him to hell and back?"

"Of course," Leo took a sip of his coffee, "apparently Vince's mom wants him to go home."

"Bumfuck nowhere home?" Jonah paused, almost messing up his signature on the release papers of a patient, "the semester starts back up in two weeks, this is nonsense."

"Do you wanna be the one to tell his mom that?" Leo poked his side, "take a break, go see him."

"I can't just take breaks," Jonah shook his head in denial and Leo raised a judgmental eyebrow.

"You can't avoid him," Leo scoffed, "c'mon. I know it were some stressful forty eight hours and they took your feelings for a spin, but Vin doesn't know all that. You can't avoid him, go at least check up on him."

"Lawyer and a therapist? I really lucked out," Jonah said sarcastically, "you should go home. You look horrible."

"Thanks, babe, I'm flattered," Leo scratched at his cheeks and then winced, because yeah, he did have more than a five o'clock now and he was sure his dark circles were so deep they looked like bruises. his complexion was pale to begin with, so by now he probably looked like a Tim Burton character.

"Seriously," Jonah looked up, then opened a small smile, "I'll go see him. Now you go home, because seeing your face is making me antsy."

"I can't go home ye-"

"Wendy will be here in two hours. Lucas isn't gonna leave Vince's side even if I call security on him," Jon moved closer, smoothing a hand over Leo's wrinkled hoodie, "go home. Get some sleep, take your meds, eat something."

"Pot calling the kettle," Leo sighed, but nodded, leaning in to steal a quick kiss, much to Jonah's displeasure since he was very against PDA in the hospital, "promise me you'll go over talk with him?"

"I promise."

"And that you'll call me if something happens?"

"I prom-"

"No, I'm serious," Leo squeezed his white coat, "promise you'll call me, even if I can't do anything about it."

"I promise Leo," Jonah nodded, "get out of here."

Jon watched Leo leave, then meticulously finished all the paperwork, before taking his fifteen minutes break. He wasn't sure why he felt anxious about seeing Vince, of all people, but alas.

He knocked out of politeness, but didn't wait for an answer, opening the private room's door. Vince was glaring at a wall, clearly sulking and Lucas had taken the spot Leo had occupied until then, on the armchair next to the bed. He too was pouting, but clearly refusing to leave no matter how pissed off.

"Hi, Vin."

"Hey..." Vince opened a small smile, frown diminishing, "Leo told me what happened, I'm sorry I scared the fuck out of you in the middle of the night."

Lucas scoffed at that and Jonah caught his eye, exchanging a small smile, "yeah, sounded like a cat dying in my guest room," Jonah teased, stepping closer, "how are you feeling?"

"Amazing," Vince lied through his teeth, "ready to go home."

Jonah stared at him, then back at Lucas and said, "would you give us a minute?"

Luke's eyebrows shot up, so did Vince's, but he nodded, getting up, "I'm gonna go find Bells, be back in a bit."

As soon as he shut the door, Vince's frown burrowed further, "...Am I in trouble?"

"You're a fucking idiot," Jonah blurted out, cringing at his own words. Way to go, he thought bitterly, as Vince's eyes widened.

"Uhm... Is this about the seizure? Because, like I keep saying, it had nothing to do with head trau-"

"Why wouldn't I care?" Jonah glared at him, leaving Vince's mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, "you're one of my best friends in the whole world and that's counting Leo, who's my boyfriend, and Atwood, who I hate-"

"You don't hate Luke," Vince rolled his eyes, then snapped his mouth shut as Jonah continued.

"And you got fucking run over and thought I'd be okay with you bleeding to death in the dorms!? What if- What if I hadn't checked up on you that night!? What then? What if you had no one-"

"Yeah, but you did-"

"It's not the point!" Jonah exclaimed, "the point is you're stupid for thinking I don't care about you! What? Do I need to follow you around like a lost puppy like Luke so you realize you're my best friend and I love you? You're an idiot-"

"Ah," Vince's frown cleared up, "it's about that? Jon, of course I know-"

"Do you!?" Jonah glared at him, "because it doesn't seem like you do. You're not my boyfriend's friend who I tolerate or Wendy's boyfriend who I just kind of like, you're my friend and you almost fucking died, Vin-"

"Aw, man," Vince sighed, pushing himself up and promptly cradling his head with his good hand, "I never thought that... Well, okay, I never thought you felt this deeply, but I- I've always counted you as one of my best friends, I just didn't know it was the opposite way around too..."

"You're so fucking stupid," Jonah rolled his eyes, swallowing the knot in his throat, ignoring the burning in his eyes, "bloody donkey."

"Okay, no need to spend your british flattery on me," Vince snorted, "c'mere. Stop yelling at me, my head hurts."

Unwillingly, Jonah stepped closer, feeling his whole face burn with embarrassment and the overwhelming breakdown he had bottled up until then, "what?"

"Give me a hug."

"I'm not a toddler," Jonah scoffed, pulling back as he felt Vince grab his coat, "we don't need to hug it out-"

"Give me a fucking hug," Vince yanked at his coat and Jonah let out a yelp, because he was not expecting the force of the yank. He had been under the erroneous impression that Vince was feeling poorly enough to be weak.

He crumpled down and had to brace against the metal headboard of the hospital bed in order not to crush Vince's wounded side, being pulled into a one armed hug.

"I'm sorry," Vince mumbled, face squished in his shoulder and Jonah glared at the white wall in front of him, whole body fighting not to melt into the hug and squeeze his friend like he wanted to.

"...Don't tell anyone," Jonah sighed, hugging him back gingerly and quickly pulling back, his face burning. This was more emotional vulnerability he had shown since confessing to Leo. He cleared his throat, "how's your head?"

"Throbbing and your yelling didn't help," Vince teased him, rubbing his temple, "Lucas' didn't either."

"Why was Atwood yelling?"

"Trying to force me to accept charity," Vin rolled his eyes, "don't even say anything, I know you agree with him."

Jonah bit down a smile, "for once, yeah, I do. It's not charity, the health system of this country is broken and Lucas has money to burn and he loves you."

"Yeah yeah, loads of people love me, so I heard," Vince's cheeks were pink, "you guys startled the living crap out of my girlfriend and Luke says my ma is coming over? What the fuck is wrong with you people, it's just a scrat-"

"Okay," Jonah shook his head, sitting on the edge of the bed, "you know it wasn't just a scratch, Vin. I saw you the other day, you were scared too."

"... But they cleared me out..." Vince sighed, leaning back against the pillows, "it just doesn't feel right to mobilize all these people for something small."

"Oh trust me, you giant mammoth, you're anything but small. My back is still killing me from carrying your ass out of the tub," Jonah snapped at him, "they're all coming because they love you. Grow up, some of us would kill to have so many people on our corner."

"I hope you don't mean you, because you better know all these people would be just as worried if it was you instead of me," Vince winced lightly, "my mother is going to throw a fit so huge my nonno will be able to hear all the way from Sicily."

"Good," Jonah nodded, "she's going to try and take you back to Bumfuck, Nowhe-"

"Doveport!?"

"Yeah, that," Jon agreed, "so just know, you're welcome in our guest room for as long as you like."

Vince blushed, but nodded, lightly, "are you sure?"

"Only if you stop being a stubborn idiot and follow doctor orders," Jonah reprimanded, only to receive a wide smile in return.

"But what's the fun in that?"

#okay NOW i think is the end #at least for now #sickfic #emetophilia #emeto fic #concussion #vince monacelli #mywriting

[soft-for-yoongi]

Fever dream Taehyungie. I read some fics with this and I'm hooked.

Choose whoever you like as the caregiver and whatever other sickness you want to add. I have no problem with emeto 💜

Fever Dreams, Hyung's Don't Leave (sick TH)

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

Sick: Taehyung

Caretakers: ot7, Yoongi, Jungkook, Seokjin

Tw: emeto, vom**, mentions of nausea, stomach pain, dizziness, fevers, nightmares, puking

Word count: 1744

Thanks for the request, anon!! I really enjoyed this, and I hope it's what you had in mind 🫶

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

Cold. Taehyung was so so cold. And... where are his hyungs? One second they were right there, and now it's all dark? They were with him before he got sucked into dreamland? But now he feels freezing and so... alone. "Hyungs?" Taehyung wants to reach out but his arms feel like lead and won't cooperate.

Shadows were growing around him and his brothers were becoming distant, his cheeks are wet with tears and he wants to yell for them to come back but the sounds don't make it past his throat. Did they really leave him?

"Taehyungie!"

He woke up with a sharp gasp, almost instantly dissolving into tears that wrack his frame. Yoongi is quick to pull him into an embrace, cradling his head into his chest. Despite the younger being taller than he is, Taehyung looks so small in the rapper's arms. "You're burning up, Taetae." Yoongi says, feeling warmth radiating off of the younger's skin.

"I'm c-cold... w-wh-where are the others?" Taehyung's head perks up, eyes wide and scared. The dream felt so vivid. "Hyungie, are they gone?" Taehyung suddenly tries to stand up, pulling away from Yoongi's grasp.

"Woah, careful." Yoongi rushes to help Taehyung and sits him back down with little effort needed. "They're okay, Taehyungie." He comforts, rubbing his back in circles. "I-I need to see them, h-hyung—" Taehyung cries, gripping onto Yoongi like a lifeline.

"Shh, okay. Let me get Jinnie and the others." Yoongi takes out his phone, frantically spamming Seokjin's number. All of Taehyung's weight is up against Yoongi and the flow of tears has him biting his lip in worry. "Yoongi-ah?" Seokjin sheepishly walks into the room, rubbing his eyes and taking a split second to register Taehyung.

"Oh, Taehyungie, baby." Seokjin rushes over, petting and soothing over his hair as Taehyung instinctively reaches for the eldest. "H-hyung... I thought you left me." Taehyung mumbles, breaking out in tremors and moving to wrap an arm around his stomach.

"Of course not, baby. Gosh, you're so warm. Yoongi, what happened?" Seokjin turns to the rapper. "He was dreaming, kept calling out for us and now he's got a fever." Yoongi explains. They both look at Taehyung with pity, thinking on what to do. "We have to give him some medicine, he's way too hot." Seokjin concludes.

"No—I need to see Jiminie a-and Namjoon-hyung—" Taehyung sniffles, hiccuping between words. Yoongi sadly rubs his back, turning to Seokjin. "Aw Taehyungie... how about we go to the living room and I'll get the others?" Seokjin offers, using his thumb to wipe away the tears. Taehyung nods approvingly, somewhat calming down.

They go on either side of the younger, helping him to the lounge. Yoongi flicks on a couple lights, putting them on the dimmest setting. Taehyung reaches for Yoongi and he gladly holds him on the couch. Seokjin starts off at the closest bedroom. Jimin and Hoseok's.

"Hoseokie? Jiminie?" He calls into the dark room, walking in to find the two curled in each other's embrace, both their beds pushed together. They start to stir after a few taps. "Sorry guys, Taehyungie is sick and a bit emotional. Can you both comfort him in the living room?" Seokjin explains in a hushed voice. It wakes them up and Jimin's eyes are already glistening with worry. "Of course, hyung." Hoseok replies. Onto the next bedroom.

"Namjoon-ah?" Seokjin hears the snoring cut off. "Hmmg..? Hyung?" The leader groans. "Can you go to the living room, please? Taehyungie has a fever." He says, gaining a hum as Namjoon swings his legs out of bed. And now, the maknae.

"Kookie?" Seokjin moves straight to the bed, gently rubbing over Jungkook's thigh. "Jungkook-ah." He tries again, making the lump roll over. "Taehyung needs you, Bunny." And that finally wakes him up. "Huh..? Is he okay?" Jungkook rubs his eyes, making a move to get up. "Fever, bad dream." Seokjin summarises, letting the youngest follow him back to the living room.

Taehyung is still next to Yoongi but Jimin is giving him a kiss on the cheek, Hoseok tying back his hair and Namjoon is standing nearby, not wanting to crowd the boy. "Taehyungie-hyung?" Jungkook says when he catches sight of the second youngest. He looks up from the couch and is visibly relieved. "You g-guys didn't leave?" Taehyung's lip quivers. The six of them butt in to reassure Taehyung, telling him they love each other way too much to even fathom the idea.

"Taetae, do you feel well enough to take some medicine?" Yoongi asks, all too aware of the sticky heat coming from the singer. He's still so out of it. "Mm.. I don't know." Taehyung pouts, "does anything hurt? Your ears, throat, head, stomach?" Jimin asks, kneeling down in front of Taehyung. "Tummy.. and my head feels dizzy." Taehyung concludes, just now picking up on the nausea washing over him in waves.

He shivers and curls up to Yoongi. "Hyung... I think I'm gonna throw up." Taehyung whines, face squashed into Yoongi's shoulder. "Aish–right now?" Yoongi looks to Hoseok for help, "I'll get a bag—" Hoseok dashes off, right as Taehyung moans in discomfort, chills going up and down his spine. Seokjin leaves to grab some towels and medicine. Namjoon and Jungkook take a seat on the other couch, talking to each other worriedly.

Hoseok comes back with a puke bag, quickly handing it to Taehyung who grips it shakily. "You're okay, Taehyung-ah." Yoongi starts rubbing up and down his back, sympathising when he feels his muscles clench and a dry gag escapes. Taehyung feels like he's on a merry-go-round, he's not enjoying it. Before he was cold and lonely, now he's covered in sweat, about to heave up his dinner. What a night.

He looks up from the bag, noticing Seokjin returning and all his brother's concerned faces. It makes him think back to his fever dream and a tear slips before a nasty heave takes over. It leads to a string of drool and acidic taste in his throat. Jimin uses his small hand to wipe away the tears, moving to sit next to Taehyung. "Let it up, Tae." Yoongi slips into daegu satoori, hoping to comfort the younger some.

Taehyung sucks in a deep, shaky breath before bringing up a mouthful of sick. It gets the momentum going and before he can relax, another bout exits him. "We're right beside you, Taetae. You're doing great." Hoseok comforts, looking away from the puke bag but also trying to support his dongsaeng.

Taehyung retches, spine curling over as he vomits. He feels so hot and sticky, tshirt plastered to his back. Seokjin uses a damp cloth to wipe Taehyung's forehead, holding it on as he coughs into the bag. "Namjoon-ah, can you get the thermometer please?" Seokjin asks, tone filled with concern.

"Sure, hyung." Namjoon responds quickly. "Ughh—my tummy doesn't feel good.." Taehyung whimpers, fingers still clutching the bag. Jungkook watches with sympathy. "Poor baby, Taehyungie. You'll feel better soon." Jimin rubs the 95's knee, Yoongi tracing along his back.

Taehyung doesn't feel like he'll ever get better. He would make another statement that he's dying, but a painfully dry heave cuts him off. It highlights just how empty Taehyung now is. But his stomach sets him off anyways, into endless (about 3) empty gags. "Tae-yah it sounds like you're finished. Wanna try relax a little?" Yoongi points out, slowly easing the younger's grip on the bag.

"Yoongi's right, Taehyungie. I'm sure Jungkook's happy to give you some company on the couch?" Seokjin smiles, and Taehyung swallows down a retch before weakly nodding. Yoongi manages to take the bag, making note to keep it away from Hoseok's general direction before disposing of it.

Seokjin and Jimin wipe down Taehyung's face, just as Namjoon comes back with the thermometer, holding it out. "Ah, thanks Joonie." Seokjin says, grabbing the device and hovering it over the second youngest's forehead. It beeps and reads, "39.1° (102.4°)" Seokjin says out loud, "shit. Taehyungie, you're really warm, how about we take your shirt off?" The eldest adds.

Taehyung nods, face blank and zoned out. "Arms up," Jimin helps take off the top, leaving Taehyung exposed on the couch. "Can I lay down with Jungkookie?" Taehyung looks up at Jin, then glances at the youngest. "Of course, Kookie? Is that okay?" Seokjin turns to Jungkook, who responds with a reassuring nod. Jungkook motions for Taehyung to come closer. With Hoseok's and Jimin's aid, Taehyung gets nestled on Jungkook's chest, both of them long ways on the couch. Jungkook has an arm tucked around Taehyung securely, while he listens to the soothing rhythm of Jungkook's heartbeat.

"Promise not to be sick on me?" Jungkook jokes, retracting the statement when Taehyung frowns sadly. "I'm sorry you're not feeling well, hyungie. You can throw up on me, that's fine." Jungkook kisses Taehyung's temple, ruffling his hair at the same time. At least that gets Taehyung to whimper-laugh, his body still isn't happy with him.

Before Taehyung lets himself drift off, he opens his eyes and scans the room. He sees five pairs of eyes staring back lovingly, the elder members smiling at the fondness between the two youngests. "Don't worry, Taehyung-ah. We'll be right here when you wake up." Yoongi hums, beginning to settle on one of their armchairs, letting out a huff when Jimin sits on his lap, but not making him move either. Fully reclining the other couch, Hoseok is comfortably squished between the leader and Seokjin.

"Okay, I love you, hyungs." Taehyung murmurs softly. He surrendered to the warmth of Jungkook's embrace, the presence of his brothers soothing him to not worry about any more dreams.

Hours passed and they slept semi-comfortably. Seven people in one living room was a lot. Slowly, Taehyung stirred awake, greeted by the gentle caress of Jungkook's hand on his head. Blinking away the sleep, he found himself still tucked up to Jungkook. "Hey there, sleeping beauty." Jungkook whispered.

Taehyung grinned weakly, "did I throw up on you?" He asked, voice raspy but amused. "Not this time, hyung." Jungkook chuckled. The lounge room was bathed in a morning glow, Taehyung noticed his other hyungs, still there and their expressions more relaxed. The worry he felt during his fever-induced dream was replaced by comfort, yes he was still uneasy but he now had some support.

"I told you we wouldn't leave, Taehyungie." Jimin chims in, perched on Yoongi's lap. "Thank you, Jiminie-hyung."

#bts #soft-for-yoongi writes #bts!sickfic #emeto #emeto mention #bangtan #emeto fic #sickfic #vomit mention #sick #sick!taehyung #caretaker!ot7 #taekook #taegi #bts sickfic #nausea #fever dream #feverish #vomiting #bts emeto #hyungs are sweet #requests #anon ask #tw vomit

[salembutnotthecat]

first emeto fic, kind of nervous!

tw for emeto, sickness, fever,nausea

Please, please, please...

She didn't know what she was expecting.

In an ironic turn of events, through everything she had endured specifically over the last four years, trying to mess with a keyring that had at least seven keys, as well as a car key and a little keychain figure that Willow got her for her birthday, with only one hand seemed to be the one thing that would take her out.

Her other hand was pressed tightly against her mouth as her stomach churned. She gagged, shuddered, and did everything she could to not throw up right there.

The cold wind whipped through Vanessa's disheveled hair, causing a shiver to run down her spine. She cursed under her breath, feeling the weight of the keyring in her clammy hand. The metallic jangle seemed to mock her as she desperately fumbled with the keys, each one refusing to slide smoothly into the lock.

A more intense wave of nausea surged through her, and Vanessa clenched her jaw, determined not to let the contents of her uneasy stomach escape prematurely. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead, a combination of feverish chills and the physical exertion of trying to unlock the door.

Her vision blurred for a moment, and she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to steady herself. The keyring slipped from her trembling fingers, clattering against the pavement.

Vanessa panicked. Panicked.

Willow's car was in the driveway still. Maybe that was a good sign.

Vanessa slammed her freed hand on the door, begging her body to hold on until the door opened.

It was seven in the morning. Mrs. Cortez would be bringing eight year old Mia out to wait for the bus in five minutes. Ten at best. Vanessa didn't want to vomit in front of the poor girl, or her mother. That would certainly give off a bad impression.

"Jesus Chri-" Willow started, yawning as she opened the door.

Vanessa shoved her roommate to the side, bolting for the bathroom.

The taste of bile lingered in Vanessa's mouth as she rushed past Willow, who stumbled backward in surprise. The bathroom door swung open, and Vanessa barely had time to close it before the violent upheaval began.

She dropped to her knees in front of the toilet, hard, the impact letting everything go with just barely enough time to lift the toilet seat.

"Vanessa," Willow was knocking at the door, "What's going on?"

Waves of nausea continued to grip Vanessa, each one more intense than the last. She clung to the cool porcelain, beads of sweat forming on her forehead. Her stomach rebelled, seemingly determined to expel every last trace of discomfort.

"Oh, god, that sounds violent," Willow said. Vanessa felt the door hit her foot as Willow let herself in her bathroom.

Willow pulled the hair that had fallen out of Vanessa's ponytail away from her roommates face with one hand.

Vanessa heaved, hard. She could feel whatever was in her stomach come halfway up her throat, before going back down and making her heave twice as hard.

"Okay, okay," Willow said, "Here, stand a little."

Willow pulled her roommate to her feet.

"Brace against the back of the toilet, hands here," Willow guided Vanessa to lean into the tank, pressing her hands to the lid, "The gravity should help your stomach-" Sure enough, Vanessa heaved, a torrent of vomit barely staying contained in the porcelain bowl. And another, and another.

A fourth one, and a shaking Vanessa collapsed back to her knees, forcing out the last of what would come up. For now, at least.

"Good, good," Willow said, clicking her tongue and rubbing Vanessa's back as the security guard gasped for breath.

"Are you on your gastro rotation?" Vanessa asked, spitting into the toilet before grabbing some toilet paper to wipe her mouth before flushing the disgusting mess in the toilet.

Vanessa closed the toilet lid, sitting on top, sighing and running her hand back over her face and ultimately brushing her hair back.

"It was two weeks ago, I'm on labor and delivery now," Willow said, "But, i'm almost done. Then I graduate."

"What are you going to do?" Vanessa asked.

Small talk. Right now, Vanessa needed the small talk.

"Well, I like labor and delivery," Willow said, grabbing a washcloth and running it under cold water, pressing it on Vanessa's forehead, "But I think I'll stay in the emergency room for now. Can I get you anything?"

Vanessa managed to shake her head weakly, unable to form words.

"I have a shift today," Willow said, "Would you care to just sleep on the couch until I get back? I might be a nursing student, but I do not want to come home and do emergency work on you because you decided to leave your room which I know you would."

"Honestly," Vanessa said, "I probably would've needed you to drag me up there, even if I hadn't thrown up."

"Are your pajamas still on your floor?" Willow asked.

"Probably," Vanessa said, "I could just sleep in-"

"Yeah, no," Willow said, "I'm putting your uniform in a disinfectant load. And I'll probably spray the disinfectant you bought all over your room."

"Fine," Vanessa said, "While you do that, I'm going to the kitchen to get some water, rinse out my mouth."

"Grab the designated bucket," Willow said, "It's-"

"Under the sink," Vanessa said, "And a very violent lime green which is a little on the nose for a bucket set aside specifically to throw up in."

"That's why I got it," Willow said, stepping out of the bathroom.

-

There's a noise, distant at first, that pulls Vanessa out of sleep.

Vanessa moaned, pushing soaking wet blonde locks off her cheek, leaving her hand on her face. She could feel the fever and she was soaked. Definitely sweating.

The living room was bathed in a strange orange glow, the tv was off, and the house was quiet.

Then the noise. Her phone. It was on the side table.

Vanessa grabbed it, barely making out the caller ID.

Delaney Richards. Missed call from Elijah.

"Shit..." Vanessa mumbled, clearing her throat before answering. Except clearing her throat made her stomach turn over. She swallowed.

“Hello?” Vanessa asked, hoping she didn’t sound too bad. It would just be a few moments…

“Can you work tonight?” Delaney asked, “I know you aren’t supposed to but Vivien could use you. Elijah and I have to fly out a day early to our next premier. We could send her to your place too so you don’t have to make the drive.”

“Yeah, that’s fine, send her,” Vanessa said, half out of it, “As long as you don’t mind my roommate. But I can have her sign something. She’s a nursing student at St. James’s downtown… so she probably won’t see much of Vivien anyway.”

“No need to sign something,” Delaney said, “We’ll pay double rate since it’s so last minute.”

The other line disconnected before Vanessa could deny it. She sighed, lying back down. She would get up in a few minutes and try to get ready… just… a few minutes.

-

There’s knocking at the door suddenly. Vanessa moaned.

She would have yelled for Willow to use her key, but after this morning, she couldn’t really be mad at her.

Vanessa stood, walking to the door. But the sudden shift in position and movement made Vanessa feel worse.

Vanessa gagged halfway to the door. A careful hand covering her mouth. Vanessa paused, taking a deep breath.

She got to the door. Gagging again. This one triggered a second, and a third.

Vanessa unlocked the door, hitting it as a signal that it was in fact unlocked, before dashing to the bathroom again.

The door opened as Vanessa got there. She heaved, hard. She felt something chunky and slimy clinging to her hand.

She stumbled in front of the toilet, heaving.

“Oh, god,” someone yelped. The door clicked shut.

Heels clicked the floor, a fast walk toward the bathroom.

A smell of cherry blossom perfume hit Vanessa, making the security guard throw up even harder.

“Oh, Ness,” someone said, manicured nails lightly scratching Vanessa’s back, “Get it up… get it up.”

Vanessa nodded, heaving all the harder as her stomach tried to empty itself. A hand lightly rubbed Vanessa’s turmoil-ridden stomach, making Vanessa’s stomach purge a torrent of vomit, and then another, and another. Each round thick and abundant, making Vanessa gasp between waves.

Another. Another. And then, spit. Three rounds of gagging up spit. Dry heaving for… well, Vanessa wasn’t sure.

Vanessa stumbled back against the wall, sliding down to the floor and wrapping her arms tightly around her abdomen.

“Oh my god Ness…” Vivien said, tucking her hair to one side and kneeling in front of Vanessa, “What… what happened?”

“I.. don’t feel go… feel..” Vanessa heaved, leaning forward and spitting into the toilet.

Vivien pulled Vanessa’s hair back.

Vanessa shook her head, brushing Vivien’s hand away.

“I’ve been sick since I got home,” Vanessa mumbled, “Why are you here..?”

“Mom and dad… sorry, your bosses,” Vivien said, “They need to leave today instead of tomorrow. Delaney called and said you said it was fine if I came here so you didnt have to drive…”

“Oh right,” Vanessa said, “I’m sorry…”

“You’ve seen me vomit so many times,” Vivien shrugged, “This is fine. Tell you what… how about I help you to bed and we can watch that movie I wanted to show you?”

“Yeah…” Vanessa said, “But… I think… I think I’ll need the bucket…”

“Clearly,” Vivien said, helping Vanessa stand, “Come on…”

#emetophilia #emeto tw #emeto #emeto fic #vomiting #vomit tw #emeto cw #vomit cw #first fic pls be nice #or constructive criticism