#vomit fic

[imjusthereforfics]

mean caretakers?

oh my gosh, just think

someone who stuffed themselves suffers from food poisoning also, and they're trying not to hurl but their caretaker is teasing them, trying to get them to think of gross things of whatever the food was that made them so sick

like just think

"man that hamburger you ate was so greasy and juicy"

[simply-un-well]

first fic after lurking for literally forever, with my two little ocs !! also, my requests are open if people have any :)

-

Jason grumbled from where he was walking next to Blake. Out of every single person on the team, he was partnered with him. The coaches must hate him or something.

It's their annual team trip to the amusement park. Normally would have been a great time with his friends and everyone, but then he had to get stuck with the most stuck-up person on the team; Blake.

"I don't see why we can't just split up," Jason mutters. His posture is slumped, arms tucked into the pockets of his pants.

Blake sighs in response to the third time in the last five minutes those words have been uttered by Jason's mouth. "Again, we were told to stick by one teammate in case of an emergency."

There's silence for the next few moments before Jason sighs, loud and dramatic. Blake's mouth twitches like he's trying to hold back a snarky comment before an uncomfortable silence spreads between the two of them.

People are screaming and chattering in the background as the two of them walk in complete silence.

"Sooo…" Jason starts, unable to stand the awkward tension, "Do you want to ride anything?" He's pointedly not looking at Blake, trying to spare himself the awkwardness.

"No." It's blunt and straight to the point.

"Why not? I bet you're scared," Jason scoffs. "A coward who can't even go on a rollercoaster." It's an obvious bait, but even then…

"The fuck? No, I'm not." Blake's striking glare is trained on him. Jason's got his full attention now.

Pleased with his reaction, he smirks. "No, you're scared. Why would you not want to go on a ride then? Huh? It's cause you're a scaredy cat, isn't it?"

Blake's face pulls back into a slight scowl. "If anything you're scared. I could probably ride twice as many rides as you."

Pulling away to face him, Jason crosses his arms. Blue eyes staring at Blake, he grins. It's nothing like his normal happy-go-lucky smile. Closer to the one they get when they're competing against each other during practice. "That sounds like a challenge to me."

There's a brief stare-off before Blake dips his head into a nod. "Fine, how many roller coasters can we both ride until we have to leave or one of us quits."

They both stand there, frowning at each other before rushing off towards the closest coaster. It's a small one, with minimal twists and turns, a basic start. The line is thankfully short, so they both end up running through it quickly.

From there they do rollercoaster after rollercoaster, working their way through the park. They have three more left, putting them off due to the cue.

Blake's stomach started feeling off around the sixth rollercoaster they went on, but there was no way he was going to let Jason know about it. He'd make it into an absolute joke. Given that they've been going at each other's throats since high school and it's only escalated since they both ended up in the same University.

His stomach gives an unhappy twist and he ducks his head to the side, swallowing. Hopefully, Jason didn't notice that odd movement, he doesn't need more ammo to tease him with.

Subtlety, Blake awkwardly wraps his arm around his stomach as it churns. For someone who's never been to an amusement park before or rode on any rollercoasters, in hindsight, he probably should have been more careful. While he's never gotten motion sick in a vehicle before, there's a stark difference between a car and a coaster that flips you upside down.

As if to curse his luck, Jason looks at him oddly. "You know, it's not too late for you to drop out? No shame in having me win this competition."

Gritting his teeth, Blake scowls even more. "No."

"Fine. I gave you a chance." Jason shrugs, looking smug with himself. Blake wants to throttle him.

Unfortunately, or rather fortunately in Jason’s case, he doesn't get a chance to do so when the next cart comes in, and the ride attendant beckons for them to take a seat in the cart.

Gulping nervously, Blake follows Jason into the cart. The bars slide down over their laps, pressing uncomfortably down on his stomach. He almost…almost regrets not taking the out that was given to him. This ride is supposedly the most intense in the park. Full of flips and sharp turns. None of which will help not upset his stomach ever further.

Jason looks over at him, presumably to say something snarky about their little competition and how he's going to win. Opening his mouth, he pauses, taking into account Blake's paling face. "Actually, are you okay?" There's no maliciousness in his voice for once.

There's no time for Blake to respond before the cart starts moving up, the metal tracks clicking as the chain pulls them closer to the drop. His face is stark white, eyes wide open. His stomach gives an unhappy whine, twisting and turning at the sight.

A brief shake of the head no is all he can give before Blake jerks with an empty gag. Hand clasped on his mouth, Jason's eyes go wide in response. It's far too late for them to get off the ride.

"Oh, okay okay, breathe. Try to keep it down until the ride is over." His words are frantic, but a small part of Blake's mind that's not occupied with the fact that he's about to vomit registers the actual concern in his voice. Although that may be for not wanting vomit on his clothes.

There's a brief pause at the top of the coaster before the sudden drop. Almost immediately Blake's stomach shoots into his throat. Burning hot bile traveling further and further up. He whimpers involuntarily, closing his eyes as he keeps his hand firmly clamped over his mouth. Unable to think of anything else besides the steady mantra of 'don't throw up don't throw up don't throw up.'

The ride takes them through several sharp turns, two loop-de-loops —one of which he had to choke back down a mouthful of sick— before stopping suddenly. A five-second pause before pulling back into the boarding area.

Blake's full-on trembling by now from the strain of not throwing up in public on a rollercoaster. Now that the ride has stopped, he can feel Jason awkwardly trying to rub his back. "Okay okay, that's good. Just breathe," he murmurs out quietly.

The seat bar finally comes up, relieving some of the pressure on Blake's stomach. The ride attendants look wary at the nauseated expression on his face. Somehow, he manages to stumble out of the cart with Jason's assistance, eyes still firmly shut as he tries to not get sick. The world feels like it's spinning below his feet.

He manages to get tugged halfway down to the entrance of the ride before he jerks suddenly, mouth flooding with sick. Trying to swallow it back down, before eventually relenting and tugging on Jason's shirt.

Jason looks at him before exhaling sharply. "Hang on, hang on. We're almost to a trash can." Tugging Blake along more urgently they manage to make it down to the entrance.

Shoving Blake forward into a trashcan, his hands hit the sides. Blinking his eyes open, he opens his mouth allowing for the first wave to pour from his mouth. It's liquidy and chunky, splattering over the trash people threw out. The combined smell of sick and trach is absolutely rancid.

Shoulders hitching up towards his ears, Blake lurches forward gagging. Another wave comes up, slightly more chunky. The ground feels like it's spinning beneath his feet.

"Okay, woah, you're okay," Jason murmurs as Blake nearly pitches forward into the trash can. He has a grounding hand resting on his back.

There's a pause where Blake just stands there, head hanging over the trash can. He's acutely aware of the people in the park and just how many people probably just saw this happen.

"You done?" Jason asks, rubbing his back lightly.

Instead of a verbal response, Blake retches, bringing up a final wave of chunky sick. Spitting into the trash can, he pushes back away from it and the smell so it doesn't trigger another round of heaving. "Done," he announces quietly.

Jason nods. "C'mon, let's head back to the bus." There's a pause before he smirks cockily. "Guess I won that competition, huh?"

There's a tired grimace on Blake's face at the reminder of their little challenge. "Oh fuck you."

[clever-sick-name]

Peanuts

Orphee gripped the toilet seat, this other hand was balled in a fist on his stomach and he was gagging and coughing. He had been nauseated since breakfast and decided to just try to get it over with the hopes of feeling better after, he began to puke up small mouthfuls of yellow and green but it wasn’t making him feel better, he pushed and coughed until all that was left was spit and acid. He cleaned up and walked out of the stall.

That strong nauseating feeling was still looming as if it were walking right behind him, he splashed his face and tried to ignore it, maybe he could get through the rest of the day.  He was wrong, with every hour it only got worst, sometimes he’d sneak off to go to the bathroom thinking he was gonna be sick. Though it was finally lunch time, his friends were all talking like normal and eating their lunches but he just kinda sat there, staring at his food. He didn’t really know if he wanted to eat.  He slowly began to force himself to eat, already making the decision he wasn’t doing anything after work, just straight home.  He was lying to himself and he knew it.  They all got back to work and as he thought about it, what he had for Lunch was not the best choice as his stomach was now furiously upset. He stood and quickly rushed out. Luckily, his job didn’t require him to ask for permission to leave.  When he got there, he didn’t even bother locking the stall. He hugged his stomach and bent over the toilet, he was pretty opposed to sitting right now. He coughed and gagged until he had rivers of vomit pouring from his mouth, eventually he moved his hands from his stomach to just gripping the bars on the sides of the stall, his throat burned with every river he pushed up.  Someone opened the stall causing him to choke and try to get himself to stop, but it was too late already. Once he was fully done, at least as done as he thought he was, he turned around to see who had been rubbing his back this whole time.  It was his friend Matt, Matt just waved slowly “Do you feel better? I’ve never really seen you sick before...”  Orphee sat with one hand keeping his head up and the other on his stomach “I... I don’t know... I felt fine until after breakfast and I-” he quickly covered his mouth, but it didn't stop the vomit from shooting out of his and and all over the floor and himself. He quickly got up and tried turning around, by the time he got himself back over the bowl, he had covered his shirt and the floor with vomit. Matt backed out of the stall and sighed “I’m gonna go get you some water and check out and I’ll take you home” He ran off before Orphee could even object.  Orphee just continued to sit there heaving up his guts until his stomach was sore and his head was pounding. Matt came back to him leaned against the wall shaking and coughing, his friend looked to pitiful. He crouched down and pulled his friend up to his feet “Come on buddy.”  Orphee just mumbled and continued to spit up small wads of vomit. Matt shoved a trashcan into his hands after he got him into the car.  On the way back, Orphee began to fall asleep. Matt stole the key from his friends bag and lugged him inside and tucked him into bed.  When Orphee woke up he immediately ran for the bathroom, Matt went to check on him, it sounded like water was being poured into the toilet, he knocked on the door “Can I come in?” By the sounds of gagging he didn’t expect to get a response so he just opened the door anyways. There he was on the floor again, he was vomiting literal rivers and had began choking on them, Matt sat on the rim of the bathtub and began patting his back.  “I made you broth! it might help your stomach...”  Orphee just continued to heave.  “You can eat it once you feel up to i-”  “STOP...TALKING ABOUT.... F.... FOOD” he forced out in between one of the breaks of the rivers.  Matt continued to pat his back “Sorry sorry... What did you eat this morning?”  Orphee screamed and choked up more “It’s... still on ....t... the table” He stopped, taking long deep breaths. Matt stood and walked out to the dinning room and inspected the food, it didn’t look bad or spoiled... but that’s when he noticed it, peanuts .  He remembered Orphee mentioning he was allergic to peanuts. Matt helped Orphee to the couch and set the broth in front of him. He only took a few bites before he fallen asleep. Matt sat next to him and laid back with a sigh “Might as well stay for a bit.” 

[sickandvomiting]

Since it’s back to school time, what about one if the members if the blues band who’s in school picking up a bug at uni and suffering through practice while being clearly under the weather. Cue Avi or someone not in school being sympathetic, but also like, man taking the non-higher ed route really is a benefit sometimes.

[A/N: This was fun! Morgan is a TA for a big music history lecture, as well as a vocal tutor for younger underclassmen, so this fit him pretty well!]

When Morgan’s voice cracked on the very first note he sang, the group knew something was up. But he cleared his throat and kept going, and they dismissed it. When it happened again, Avi held a hand up to stop the rehearsal, and the instruments faded one by one into silence. He insisted he was fine. We can keep going, he’d said, but within five minutes he darted out of the room without a word of explanation, leaving the rest of the band confused and worried.

“Do you think he’s okay?” Elizabeth asked. “Should we go check on him?”

“I’d give him a few minutes. You know how he is,” Senan said, but his own eyes darted toward the door, brows clearly knitted together in concern.

“It’s probably the fuckin’ nor-.. Noro-…” Adam hesitated, searching for the word. “Norovirus!” He finally exclaimed. “It’s been goin’ around the underclass halls, and he said one of his students was sick at their desk the other day. Poor fucker had to clean it up.”

This earned sympathetic hums from the rest of the group, before they fell into an awkward silence. Shortly, the sound of muffled heaves came through shared bathroom wall.

“Definitely not okay, then,” Elizabeth said with a grimace.

Another silence followed. Adam plucked at the strings on his bass, and Senan shuffled his feet, unsure what to do.

“I’m gonna go check on him,” Avi said finally, before sweeping out of the room. They knocked lightly on the door of the bathroom, but when they didn’t get a response other than retching, they tried to door handle. It swung open easily, just as the red-faced Morgan spewed a massive torrent of sick into the toilet, face ducking into the bowl as it thundered into the water. He came back up with a gasp, and Avi gathered his dreads back from his face.

“Shit, Morgan,” they breathed as another plume splattered noisily into the basin.

“God,” Morgan croaked when he could finally get a breath. “I think– urp!– I think I might be sick,” he said wryly, wiping the tears of exertion from his cheeks. He reached for the box of tissues, but had to duck back into the toilet to vomit again.

“Understatement of the millenium,” Avi said, placing the box next to him and patting his back as he choked on a bit of sick that got lodged in this throat.

He shuddered under their slender fingers, but that last bout seemed to have emptied him out and he collapsed back against the bathroom wall.

“See, this is why I don’t go to college,” Avi said, earning a halfhearted chuckle from Morgan as he cleaned himself up and pitched the soiled Kleenex into the toilet when he was finished.

“Seems like a valid reason to me,” he shot back.

[imjusthereforfics]

i would love to do more rp! i just don't do nsfw! dm me!!!

[simply-un-well]

this is my last concrete idea prompt that i had B) it didn't really turn out how i planned, but that's okay! also, it's relatively based on how i get on the rare occasion in cars which i literally just don't know how to describe.

-

The bus ride back is obnoxiously bumpy and the thought of committing mass murder crosses Blake's mind at the laugh Jason lets out from beside him at the movement. First person would be Jason on the sheer principle of how annoying he has been for all the years he has known him. Second would be Jesse for making them have to sit next to each other for "team bonding". Third is the Coach for approving that decision. Fourth is the bus driver for making what is supposed to be a normal drive back from their game absolutely hell.

As if whatever higher power just wanted to laugh at him further, the second the last thought crossed his mind, the bus ran over another pothole. The bump jerked everyone forward, knocking Blake into the seat in front of him. Effectively snapping him out of his thoughts as his face made contact with the scratchy fabric. As if to add insult to injury, Jason turned to look at him at just the right time to see it happen.

Jason burst out into laughter, attracting the attention of the people in front of them, as they were seated in the absolute back of the bus. Tavin's head popped up over the headrest, questioning Jason on what he found so funny.

Scowling even further when Jason eagerly jumped up to explain, Blake stared out the window as a flush crept up his neck. His head was already starting to hurt from the movement of the bus, he did not need to deal with Jason's teasing too. There were like two hours until they got back, maybe he could just sleep.

Eyes closed, Blake presses his cheek against the cool glass of the window. It’s soothing, as the coldness seeps into his skin. Maybe he can make it through this with only minimal bodily harm to his very annoying seatmate who he can hear making fun of him for what happened earlier.

Stubbornly keeping his eyes closed, Blake drifts. Not quite asleep, but not quite awake either. Faintly aware of the yapping in the bus and the weird twinge of pain in his head.

It couldn’t have been more than thirty minutes before an elbow slammed into his biceps. Blinking his eyes open at the pain, Blake’s first thought is ‘fuck you, Jason.’ Followed by ‘fuck, my head hurts.’

The bus knocks into another pothole, and he grimaces at the jostling of his head. It feels like there’s a lump in his throat, some sort of pressure pushing down on it. Squinting, the pain in his head only escalates when he looks around the bus. He makes eye contact with Jason who immediately starts being annoying.

“Why are you looking at me,” he rolls his eyes. “I know I’m pretty, but I’m not here for you to stare at.”

Swallowing thickly, Blake frowns. “How much longer?” He can’t be bothered to deal with Jason and all his self-absorbed whatever. His head hurts, but not in the typical headache way.

Jason frowns, slightly weirded out that he didn't take the bait. Normally both him and Blake can and will take every opportunity given to try to one-up each other, whether that be with words or actions. "Hour and a half, sleeping beauty," Jason scoffs mockingly.

That's…that's only thirty minutes? Maybe Blake will actually just die instead. Ever since he was rudely bright back to the present, something has just felt off. Throat tight and head pounding, looking out the window is better than looking around the inside of the bus, however marginally. He keeps his eyes trained on the horizon, trying to figure out what's wrong.

Jason has long since gone silent, looking at him strangely. As much as they hate each other, you don't go years knowing each other without, you know, knowing each other. It all seems relatively normal until one of the large signs on the highways, that lists the upcoming exits and directions come up.

The words flash by and subconsciously, Blake's eyes latch on to read them. That's…that's so much worse, something in his throat squeezes and then pulls and oh…Oh. He swallows thickly before closing his eyes stubbornly. The swaying and bumps of the bus aren't helping, but at least he doesn't have to see any more signs.

Normally, Jason might push off telling the Coach or Captain about something like this happening to Blake as payback for something he did, but seated next to him, he's actually in the splash zone if anything were to happen. Glancing over at Blake's palling face, he makes a decision.

Nudging the chairs in front of them until Tavin pokes his head up over the top again, tilting his head questioningly at Jason. "Think he's motion sick," he murmurs, nodding over to where Blake is sitting perfectly still, tension visible all over his body.

Inhaling sharply, Tavin winces at the sight. "Yeah…Let me wake up Jess, he'll probably know what to do."

A minute passes by before Jesse pops up, frowning at the sight. "Is he listening? Never mind, I have a plastic bag here that you can give him just in case. Of course, you can switch seats with me and I can keep an eye on him instead if you're not comfortable."

"Fuck, you're such a mom, Jess," Tavin teases him. "Just say you want to look after the kid."

Jason ignores him, instead contemplating it. He's honestly kind of out of his depth, never mind the fact that he doesn't really want to deal with vomit, much less from the guy he hates. Glancing over at him, Jason notes how his eyes are scrunched shut, throat bobbing with every swallow. "...you sure that's alright?"

Jesse nods, and they hurriedly switch seats. Sliding into the seat in front next to Tavin, he frowns worriedly.

"Don't worry so much about your friend, Jess knows what he's doing," Tavin tries to reassure him. "Practically a mother hen to the entire team if they'd let him."

"I'm not worried," Jason scoffs. "And he's not my friend."

In the seats behind him, everything is a lot less calm. There's a building pressure in Blake's throat. He wouldn't say it's like nausea, but he feels close enough to throwing up whatever he ate after the game that it doesn't even matter. His head is pounding, the world swaying beneath his feet.

There's a hand rubbing up and down his back, a voice murmuring something to him. He can't open his mouth to talk around the tight squeezing of his esophagus.

"Blake? Hey, kid, I need you to help me out here." The voice is from next to him, but it doesn't sound like Jason. "Can you open your eyes for me?" He really really doesn't want to, but he wants to know who this is.

Squinting his eyes open, he sees long…hair? Hm…the only person on the team with long enough hair is Jesse. He'd be a little more embarrassed about this happening in front of his captain if he didn't feel so bad. 'At least it's an upgrade from Jason,' he thinks bitterly. Jason would never let him live it down on any bus rides later in the season.

"Okay, okay, thank you, that’s good. Do you feel like you're going to be sick?" Jesse's voice is careful and soft. Somehow just parental enough to feel safe without being patronizing.

Blake nods. The tightness in his throat is worse with his eyes open. Eyes glancing around, he tries to breathe through it. Jesse passes him a plastic shopping bag, the logo written on the side of it. Glancing away before he has the chance to properly read the words.

The bus suddenly runs over a pothole and the tightness in his throat pulls up and then out. Tongue pushes forward as he jerks into a silent gag. His body convulses slightly as he clamps a hand over his mouth.

Jesse is quick to grab the bag, holding it up underneath him. "Just breathe. It's okay."

Another bump in the bus and sick pours from his mouth, just barely managing to move his hand in time. Blake can barely register what's happening anymore, stuck in a haze of discomfort. His head hurts and his stomach feels weird and there's something that feels like it's stuck in his throat. The bus is making the ground feel unstable, and he barely realizes he's throwing up again until he hears the vomit hit the puddle at the bottom of the bag and Jesse's murmurs of comfort.

The sick pools in the bottom of the plastic bag, undigested foods tainting it a disgusting beige. Looking down at that sight of it is almost enough to make him vomit again. Thankfully he manages to restrain himself, spitting into the bag before drawing back.

By now his eyes are closed, trying to block out the sight of the sick and from triggering anything even further. Groaning quietly, he slumps against the back of his seat on the bus.

"Are you feeling any better?" Jesse asks carefully. "Think you're done for now?"

It takes a second to mentally survey everything before Blake replies. "M'done." He's dizzy and his head hurts and he just wants to sleep through the rest of the bus ride. Leaning against the window, he can faintly hear Jason and Jesse talking before a water bottle is pressed to his lips.

"Take a sip and then you can sleep," a voice, likely Jesse, instructs him.

He does, the cool water washing away the foul taste, before closing his eyes. This time slipping into a deep sleep.

[secretobsessionstuff]

🙊: So if I’m hearing you correctly, you need more Blair requests for balance… Yes? No? Yes. 😂

Blair and Dakota have been eating healthier and hitting the gym more to prep for their wedding. They’re committed but it totally sucks, so they decide to allow themselves one cheat day every other week. They pick up all their favorite snacks, junk food, desserts, etc, and usually spend the day pigging out, binging Netflix, and cuddling. Blair pigs out more than usual because Dakota surprises her with her favorite *insert food*. She packs herself to the absolute max, feeling sleepy and content even with her belly the fullest it’s ever been. Unfortunately, while Blair was busy filling her belly to the brim, her belly was busy coming down with the stomach flu she’d unknowingly caught earlier that week. NOTE: Her belly is bigger than it’s ever been, sickness bloat on top of the food, all of it loudly roaring and gurgling nonstop. It’s gonna be a long night…

Hello 🙊anon! Thank you so much for being patient since I know this request took a long time to be answered. I hope you and everybody who asked to see Blair next likes it. 💙

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

Blair decided she wasn’t going to go overboard with this cheat day. Maybe one bowl of chips and a can of pop. That would be enough. She’d been feeling proud of her progress as the wedding day got closer and closer. She was excited about showing off her toned arms in her dress. The muscles in her shoulders and biceps encouraged her to keep this streak of good habits going. 

And honestly, she wasn’t in dire need of this cheat day. Sure, it was going to be nice to eat junk food with Dakota while they watched The Queen’s Gambit, but the Queen was still going to dominate the chess board whether Blair indulged in sweets or not. Their night of Netflix and cuddles was all she needed to feel satisfied. 

Usually, Blair would be vibrating with excitement as the cheat day got closer, but she’d been feeling sluggish and heavy throughout the week. Though her muscles were looking good, she wasn’t feeling 100%. Junk food would only weigh her down more. Yeah, it was decided; this would be a small night of indulgences.

And then that mindset when out the window as soon as Dakota unveiled what he’d been making her. She came home to the smell of cheese melting in the air. She too began to melt. All that stubborn refusal to indulge sloughed right off her toned shoulders when she saw the mac and cheese bubbling on the stove. Suddenly, her mouth watered, and her body craved something comforting and warm. After a tiring week, she realized that letting herself enjoy food might be exactly what needed. 

“Babe, you shouldn’t have,” she told Dakota as they prepared binge food for the binge watching. 

“Yes, I should have, and I did.” He kissed her cheek as he handed her a bowl of pure happiness. “I know this week hasn’t been the best at the gym. You’ve been pushing yourself so hard, and I can see it paying off. You deserve this break.” 

He was right. Blair needed this. Two weeks ago, she was smashing personal records, but she could feel herself slowing down. The last three days at the gym showed that she was getting tired. It was time for a break—a break filled with cheese, chocolate, and salty snacks.

So, they watched a young girl kick ass at chess while melting into the couch. Dakota began feeding Blair at one point because she was too tired to reach for another brownie. She licked the chocolate off his fingers and sighed. “I’m so full.” 

“Nah, I’ve seen you do more,” Dakota said. 

“Well, it fits with the theme of the week which is ‘I could have done more’. More reps, more time…” Blair trailed off as movement in her stomach made her place a hand over her abdomen. Despite Dakota’s insistence, she couldn’t eat anymore. Her belly was full with mac and cheese, chips, and pop. 

As soon as she’d taken that first bite, she knew it was going to be a glorious cheat day. 

It had been a good day…for ten minutes. Then she got full, and she got full fast. Her stomach protested a lot sooner than it should have. “I’m sorry for being negative. I thought tonight would cheer me up.” 

Dakota placed his hand over hers, on the mound that was her stomach. “Hey, it’s all good. You’re allowed to have these days. You wanna talk about what’s keeping you down?” 

“I just—” she shifted around on the couch, trying to find the best position for her bloated belly. “I feel off. I don’t have as much energy and I’m so fucking sore.” 

“Sore from working out?” 

“No, it feels different.” She didn’t know how to explain it, but it was almost like the soreness that comes from the flu or a fever. She wanted to try to put her thoughts into words, but her stomach was talking enough for the both of them. The organ let out a loud gurgle and followed it up with a hearty belch that made her shiver. She quickly covered her mouth as Dakota chuckled. “God, my stomach hurts.” 

Dakota ran his palm across her bloated belly. He let his thumb glide beneath the waist band of her pants, feeling the crest of her belly. He followed the slope down, amazed at how swollen it was. Her skin was warm. Very. “Bee, your stomach is so bloated and noisy.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“No, don’t apologize.” He traced up the opposite direction now, again letting his fingers follow the curve. Her belly dipped sharply towards her ribs and chest. “I didn’t see you eat that much.” 

“I don’t know why it’s so upset,” she moaned low in her throat until a pocket of air started to come up. She swallowed thickly but couldn’t make the pressure go away. The burp escaped loudly and wetly. It took her belly from overly full to outright nauseous. “Ugh, Kota, I feel sick to my stomach.” 

“Do you want to move to the bathroom?” 

Moving sounded like the worst possible idea. She imagined her tummy bouncing up and down, sending the contents sloshing into her esophagus. “No…I don’t know. I just want to feel better.” 

Dakota could hear in her voice that she was beginning to worry. “Alright, we’ll stay here and I’ll rub your tummy, how’s that sound?” 

“Okay,” she mumbled. She put her head on his chest and watched his hand glide under her shirt. She’d never seen her abdomen to distended. “Mmm, I don’t like this.” 

“Shh, just relax.” Dakota used his other hand to play with her hair. He rubbed circles and lines across her body, hoping to lull her into a state of peace. 

Her stomach certainly wasn’t at peace. He could feel it shifting and gurgling under his palm. He rubbed her stomach for twenty minutes, all the while it continued to make sick noises. Blair too made slight noises of discomfort. His touch was comforting but not enough to take her mind off the nausea. 

“Honey, it doesn’t sound like I’m helping very much,” Dakota said. “What if we talk about something to distract you from the pain.” 

“Fine. But no wedding stuff. Too stressful.” 

“Got it.” 

“And no food.” 

“Obviously.” 

“And no work” 

Dakota pouted. “Aw, I was gonna ask about your assistant. I wish I had an assistant.” 

“Piper is shadowing me. She’s not technically an assistant.”

“How can I get a shadow?” 

“I don’t know. Go out in the sun?” 

Dakota laughed and hugged her closer. “And how is your shadow doing with her training?” 

“She’s great. Although she missed a few days last week because of…” Blair blinked quickly as her brain worked faster than her mouth. She couldn’t get the words out when the thoughts came rushing in. All of a sudden, she felt her cheeks drain of colour. Her stomach dropped and a cold sweat broke out across her skin. 

“Because of what?” Dakota looked down at his glitching girlfriend. She got tense in his arms. He could feel the muscles she’d been building tighten. “Bee, you okay?” 

Blair could only shake her head. The hand over her mouth stopped her from speaking. The saliva accumulating in her mouth and the nausea rising in her throat was largely due to a psychological response. Like a placebo effect, but not quite, she knew for a fact that she was about to vomit up her cheat day. She knew this, because a few days before Piper had missed work because of a stomach bug. Bugs tended to scurry to a new home, especially when a new breeding ground gave hugs at the end of every shift. This bug took its time decorating and moving into Blair’s system for an entire week. It renovated and redesigned her stomach and intestines, making itself at home. And now, her system was packed with junk food that just didn’t match the décor. 

Blair shot up from where she rested her head on Dakota’s chest, but it was too late to make a move. She gagged into her hand and lurched forward. Muddy orange vomit came shooting out of her mouth, spewing between her fingers and dripping down her wrist. 

“Holy sh—okay,” Dakota exclaimed as he too tensed up. He quickly sat up from his slouched position as sick landed on his chest and stomach. His sweater began soaking it up. He switched to breathing through his mouth when the sour stink of half-digested cheese and chocolate filled the space. 

“Oh God, honey,” he cooed when Blair heaved again. He placed his palm on her lower back, feeling how rigid she’d become. “It’s all going to be okay. Breathe.” 

But Blair couldn’t breathe. It just kept coming. The sick fell passed her lips in chunky waves that made her cringe and shiver. At least she managed to aim the third wave away from the both of them. It landed on the floor by the couch, just narrowly avoiding their sock covered feet. That would not have been a pleasant sensation if she missed the floor. She could only imagine how Dakota must feel. A sob clawed at her chest when she thought about everything that happened. 

“I’m sorry. Kota, I’m sorry,” she mumbled as she wiped her mouth with her sleeve. Her chest hitched with every sharp inhale.

“Shh, baby. Relax. No need to apologize.” Dakota rubbed her back. “Give me another good breath.” 

She did so slowly, letting a shaky inhale fill her lungs. The exhale was steadier, which they were both happy about. 

Dakota gave a firm pat in the middle of her shoulder blades. “That’s it.” He wiped a tear off her cheek. “Are you alright now?” 

Blair shook her head. “I’m sick.” 

“Yes. Yes, you are.” Dakota looked down at the sludge on his torso. “This is cheating cheat day, you know.” 

Blair let out a weak laugh, before going back to what she was saying. “No, like I’m actually sick. Piper had the stomach flu last week.” 

“Damn…well that explains why you’re so warm,” Dakota said as he thumbed her burning cheek. 

Blair sniffled and nodded. Moving once again seemed like the worst thing in the world, but she knew this break from vomiting was not going to last. She also knew there’d be many permanent stains if they didn’t start cleaning now. 

Dakota must have been reading her mind. “Go sit in front of the toilet. You still look pale.” He thought back to the seconds before she lost it all. “Fuck, Bee, your face got so white. I thought there was a ghost in the living room for a sec.” But his fiancée did not have the energy to reply with anything witty. So, he just kissed her temple and sent her away. “Go, I’ve got to clean this up before it sticks.” 

“Give me your sweater. I’ll throw it in the bathtub.” 

Dakota stripped. Now shirtless, he realized he too was very bloated, though not from a bug but from overeating. This had been one hell of a cheat day. 

[secretobsessionstuff]

Jory is sick and ends up with a pretty bad fever, and his thoughts are so muddled that he doesn't remember at what point he stopped working, so Dev has to keep reassuring him that he didn't mess up anybody's tattoos?

Flick, you give the best prompts! I had lots of fun with this one because it's not my usual M.O. Less heavy on emeto.

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With the stencil dry, Jory sat down to draw an owl on a man’s calf.

It had taken him a long time to finalize the design because he’d been fighting a cold for the past week, not to mention the back-and-forth emails between him and the client. The man’s name was Mason. He was a younger dude with a lot of real-estate for tattoos. 

Jory was happy about the placement and so was Mason. The calf was less painful than other areas so he hoped it would be a smooth process with the young guy. The session was likely to be chill because Mason planned to put in earbuds and watch a show. Jory wasn’t complaining about the lack of conversation. He wasn’t feeling up to talking. 

He cleared his throat to get rid of the tickle before speaking. “Alrighty Mace, I’ll get you to lie down on your stomach.” Even those few words were hard to get out. Jory ahem-ed again and it morphed into a wet cough. “Sorry ‘bout that. I’m just getting over a cold, but I can’t shake this cough.” 

“It’s all good.” 

“You should try having him as a roommate,” Dev interjected from across the room. They were meant to be supervising Jory’s tattoo…which they could totally do at the same time as updating the shop’s social medias. “It’s not all good when you share a wall and he’s coughing at fucking 4am.” 

“I told you I’m almost through this c—” Shouting across the room proved to be too difficult for his lungs, and Jory started coughing again. 

“Yeah, sounds like you’re so much better.” Dev sighed and pushed themselves away from the computer they were working at. They sauntered over to Jory’s station and handed him a medical mask. “Put this on or I will reschedule this session.” 

“Fine. Fine.” Jory put the mask on and started to untie the bandanna from around his head. He folded the paisley-patterned fabric into another face covering. “I’ll even double up if that’ll appease you…” Jory was going to call Dev oh, great supervisor or one true dictator but he was already winded from what little he said. 

As Jory bent forward to tattoo the first line, his back and shoulders ached. Great, two seconds in and he was already in need of a break. This was going to be a long session. 

The client watched an anime on his phone for an hour while Jory worked. He was glad not to be working too close to the man’s face because he never went long before the coughing started up again. 

One time he’d been tattooing a girl’s neck, but he kept burping when their faces were inches apart. He took many breaks during that session until his stomach settled down. It seemed he was going to have to take many breaks this time too, because the wheezing and crackling in his lungs was relentless. 

Usually, the client asks for the first break, but Mason was taking it like a champ; Jory was not doing as well. His chest burned as if an anvil was sitting on his rib cage. 

The pressure was so great that every inhale was a struggle. It felt like he couldn’t expand his chest wide enough to take in a proper breath. The medical mask was wet on the inside from the perpetual coughing. He could feel phlegm building up in his throat, but he wasn’t about to hack a glob of spit up in the middle of the shop. He just had to sit there and pretend that he wasn’t drowning. 

Eventually, Jory couldn’t take it any longer. He turned off the machine and peeled the latex gloves from his sweaty hands. He tapped Mason on his leg to get his attention. “You’re doing great, babes. Why don’t you take a break?” 

“I can keep going.” 

Jory grit his teeth. That was the wrong answer. He forced himself to stay calm. “We’ll start up again in five minutes. Get some water. Take a piss.” 

Jory walked away before Mason could say anything else. His hand tingled from the vibrations of the machine. He flicked his wrist, trying to bring feeling back into his fingers. The urge to cough scratched at his throat, but he forced himself to wait until he got to the employee bathroom. 

Walking was painful. Blinking was painful. His back twinged. His chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself. What the duck was wrong with him? He thought he was getting over this cold, but this was worse than any other day. 

The lights in the bathroom dimmed as he stumbled his way to the sink. Finally, he let himself cough and cough until he thought he would tear a hole in the membrane of his lungs. He choked up a splodge of yellowish phlegm and spat it into the sink. 

When the coughing calmed down, Jory breathed hard. He lifted his head to look at himself in the mirror. His eyes burned and watered with an unnatural heat. Sweat coated his nose and brow, but that didn’t make any sense because he was freezing. Chills wracked his frame. 

A lot of things didn’t make sense just then the more he thought about it, like—oh wait he was back to coughing. He didn’t have the chance to think of anything because his whole body shook from the force of the hack. 

“Jory, what the fuck?” Dev suddenly shouted as they burst into the washroom. “You sound like you’re drowning in here.” 

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” he replied with a hand over his eyes. He rubbed his thumb and finger into his eyeballs. He could have sworn that lava leaked from his dear ducts. “I—I don’t—Ugh—” Pause for a wet rattling cough. “—Gah Dev, my chest hurts. I can’t breathe.” 

Jory bunched up the fabric of his shirt in his hand as he tried to claw the pain away. He was so focused on the pressure in his body, that he didn’t realize that he was stumbling towards Dev. Before he knew it, he was falling into Dev’s arms. If he had a lick of sense in his foggy head, he might have been embarrassed. 

“Whoa, Fuck,” Dev said, catching him awkwardly. Bering this close to Jory, they could feel the heat coming off him. “Fucking hell, Jory, you’re on fire.”

“I—I don’t feel good,” Jory slurred out.

“No shit, your brain is being fried, dude.” 

Dev was still holding Jory when he began coughing again. They could hear pop rocks crackling in his chest with each harsh puff. 

If it wasn’t for Dev holding him up, Jory would have been knocked over by the severity of his coughing. He doubled over as the coughing turned into retches that grated up his throat. The mucus caught in his airway came up with the bile and sick in his stomach. 

Luckily there wasn’t much for him to throw up because Dev was the one who caught the gush with their body. They resisted the impulse to jump back as he retched again. They had to keep holding on or else Jory would be dealing with a concussion on top of whatever bioweapon infected his lungs. 

Eventually, Jory was able to catch his breath. He swayed on his feet, feeling horrendous. Was…was someone holding him? He was looking down at two pairs of feet. One was his own, and the other looked like Dev’s shoes. Was Dev holding him? No, that couldn’t be right. 

Besides, he was plummeting. Dev wouldn’t let him fall. But regardless, he felt like the floor was rushing up at him. It was coming fast. So fast. So—

Then nothing. Just nothing. He didn’t crack his teeth on the tiles. He was fine. But he was lying on the bathroom floor. Dev was gone. 

Jory blinked hard. He didn’t want to be alone. He couldn’t be alone. Someone had to pull him from the water when the waves came crashing back. The water levels were rising. He could feel it in his lungs. 

The bathroom door swung open again. Dev didn’t wait to lift him off the floor. They wrapped his arm around their shoulder and led him towards the back room and lowered him onto a leather couch. 

“Where’d you go?” he asked, letting his head fall against the couch’s arm rest. “You left me. I’m cold. You left me. Can I have a blanket?”

Dev was already in the process of draping a thin blanket over his body. It was the only blanket in the shop, but maybe that was good considering his temperature. “I asked Monty to clean up your station and send Mason home.”  

“Mason!” Jory shouted and shot up, flinging the blanket off.

“Whoa, whoa, easy.” Dev, ungracefully, pushed Jory back onto his back. The boy landed with a groan and (you’ll never guess it) started coughing again. They winced at the horrible sound. “Sorry.” They covered him back up with the blanket and slowly sat down on the edge of the couch. “Mason’s not your concern right now.” 

“I forgot the beak.” 

“What?” 

“The owl—I forgot its beak. What kind of owl doesn’t have a beak?” 

Dev pinched the bridge of their nose to hide a smirk. ‘You didn’t forget anything. Everything’s fine.” 

“And the shading. Dev, the shading!” Jory ranted while hugging the blanket to his chin. His eyes were wild and glassy. “Did I use .30 needles or .35? Was it magnums?” 

“Jory—” 

“Frick, I can’t remember—” More coughing caused tears to leak from his eyes. “—Ugh, my chest.” The sound of popping bubbles came from his lungs. “It’s all messed up. Mason’s gonna—” 

“Alright, that’s enough,” Dev said firmly. “You didn’t mess up the tattoo. You tapped out before you got this bad. It was a good job considering your fever. I was watching you the whole time.” 

As Dev said this, it dawned on them that they should have realized how sick Jory still was. They both let themselves believe that he was over his illness, but the worst was just getting started. 

As if to prove this point, Jory coughed so hard that it turned into a heave.

“Oh God, this again,” Dev said, awkwardly rubbing Jory’s arm. “You’re okay. Get it up. Fuck this blanket.” 

Jory bent forward with his head hanging over his lap. The muscles in his back spasmed. After three violent coughs, he choked up milky phlegm and yellow bile between his legs. It landed on the blanket as Dev predicted. 

Now Dev was rubbing his back for real. They clicked their tongue against their teeth as they watched him suffer through this hell. He was shaking uncontrollability for fuck’s sake. They had to help him better than this. “That’s it. I’m taking you to the hospital.” 

Jory moaned. “I don’t want to. I’m tired.” 

“Too bad. Monty bet me 20 bucks that it’s bronchitis. I say it’s pneumonia.” 

“What!” Jory’s voice cracked. “You’re betting on my suffering?”

“You’re damn right I am.” Dev helped him up from the couch. “And I’m going to win, so get your wheezy ass in the car.”