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angstyaches · 1 year

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Love Language: Touch

Novemetober (@monthofsick) Day 14

Prompt from @justtopostmyfic-blog :

caretaker accidentally causes sickee to vomit (maybe knees him in the stomach while they sleep? Or?), sickie vomits copiously (ofc!) and gets so fatigued from the exertion, and caretaker feels so guilty for causing the vomit reaction. Cue lots of angst and h/c! I have a soft spot for shayne or charlie or felix, tysm!

CW: character’s stomach-centred kink (safe for work), stress, slight overwhelm, stomach ache, loss of control over supernatural ability, banter/teasing, emeto, guilty caretaker.

___

”Hey,” Shayne murmured, casting a confused glance towards the kitchen as he came through the sitting room door, “so, I thought you said you wanted to make popcorn before we started the...”

Charlie rolled his head back against the sofa cushions. “Bleugh.”

Shayne blinked where he stood. “Did you just say ‘bleugh’? Like, the word, ‘bleurgh’?”

“Yeah.” Charlie pressed his lips together, feeling a little guilty for drawing attention to his ailing state in such an obvious way. Every now and then, he wished he could be the strong, silent type who suffered through minor inconveniences with grace and poise, but it was starting to become clear that he would never be that type. “Sorry. I don’t feel good.”

Shayne’s face fell. “What? You don’t?”

Charlie shook his head and hummed in appreciation when Shayne sank down on the sofa and wrapped his arms around him. They were supposed to start watching a movie, but Charlie wasn’t sure he was in the mood for one anymore.

“What’s up?” Shayne spoke in a low voice, probably conscious of how close his mouth was to Charlie’s ear. “Start of a migraine?”

“No, my head feels fine. Just...” Charlie drew a deep breath. “My tummy hurts. I’m tired.”

“Wait, so,” Shayne murmured, “are you saying you’re tired because your tummy hurts, or your tummy hurts because you’re –?”

Charlie’s jaw dropped, and the sickly knot in his stomach dissolved into a fluffy, fluttery feeling. The cherry on top of his momentary distraction was the look on Shayne’s face when he realised what he’d said.

He let out an anxious whimper and pushed his head into the gap between Charlie’s shoulder and the sofa cushion.

“What... What did you just –?”

“Nothing. Shut up.” Shayne cleared his throat before raising his head. His expression was very calm, as though he was hoping to just smooth everything over. “Can I, um... can I do anything for you?”

“Yeah.” Charlie slowly brought his hands to his stomach, cradling it through his hoodie. “I want to hear you say tummy again.”

“No.”

“Please?”

Shayne narrowed his eyes.

“Maybe if you say it just one more time, it’ll cure me…?”

“Twice drained my life force, Charlie. Come on. Do you want some tea? Do you want me to rub your stomach?”

Charlie slumped onto his side, pushing his feet towards the end of the sofa, and tucked his head against Shayne’s waist.

“You didn’t answer m- oh, okay.”

Charlie grabbed Shayne’s hand and guided it to his belly.

Shayne knew the drill by now, which still blew Charlie’s mind a little bit. A few years ago, he never would have believed that he would have a partner who was always willing to rub his stomach at a moment’s notice.

“How’s that?” Shayne asked as he began to knead his hand gently around Charlie’s abdomen – crossing from side to side beneath his ribcage, down towards his right hip, across to his left hip...

Charlie shut his eyes and answered with a contented sigh.

As easy as it was to be lighthearted with Shayne about it, he really, really didn’t feel well. It felt as though his insides had been packed with chewing gum and then twisted up like a pretzel, though he couldn’t imagine why. They’d both eaten the same thing for dinner, and Shayne – usually being the one with the delicate stomach – didn't seem to have any complaints about it.

Maybe college was getting to him more than he’d realised.

Maybe the nightmares had been sucking away his rest, as though he weren’t truly sleeping while he was having them.

Maybe it was the fact that the sun had barely poked its way through the clouds in weeks, making it feel like Charlie had his own personal raincloud that even followed him into lecture halls and library study rooms.

Or that Jonathan had left his last message on ‘read’.

Or that he hadn’t seen his parents in so long.

Or that he was yet to make any real connections with any of his classmates –

“Charlie, love?” Shayne asked.

“Yes?”

“Um... you okay?”

“Y-yeah?” Eyes still shut, Charlie nuzzled Shayne’s side, finding relief from his bad thoughts as he sank further into the contact. “I think so, lovely.”

“Okay, it’s just that the photo of Belle, and some other stuff, is... floating.”

Charlie let his eyes flicker open, and his heart sank at the sight of his pumpkin spice candle (which was, thankfully, unlit), the mugs that had been sitting on the coffee table, the coasters they’d been using, and – indeed – the framed photo of his niece were all suspended in mid-air, tipping gently from side to side.

“Shit.” Charlie tried to sit up, but Shayne’s hands held him gently in place – one on his waist, one on his shoulder.

Since he spent the majority of his time at college now, the demonic energies that existed in and around the Mulberry house seemed to destabilise Charlie’s control over his demonic powers every time he visited. There had been a time when he’d been so immersed in this place and its aura that it hadn’t affected him, but now...

Maybe this was why he’d started feeling sick in the first place?

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” Shayne drew the palm of his hand back and forth in a half-moon shape over Charlie’s stomach. “Try to relax.”

Charlie nodded. He rested his head against Shayne’s belly again and carefully gazed at each item until it lowered itself back into place. The effort seemed to bring on a touch of light-headedness, but... he couldn’t be sure he hadn’t already been feeling light-headed anyway.

“That was so fucking cool, Charlie.” Shayne drew his fingertips in a circle, and they dipped ever-so-slightly into the little depression Charlie’s t-shirt made over his belly button. “See what you can do when you stop stressing for, like, one second of your life?”

Charlie couldn’t help the little high-pitched scoff that escaped his lungs upon hearing that. He nuzzled against Shayne’s side again. “Are you hearing yourself right now? Like you’re one to talk.”

“Nancy has a saying that she loves; ‘do as I say, not as I do’.” Shayne brushed his cheek against the top of Charlie’s head. “Now, shut the fuck up. Think about something nice.”

“Something nice,” Charlie mused, “like my boyfriend telling me to shut up?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” With his free hand, Shayne brushed a clump of Charlie’s bangs back from his eyes. “Shut up, my love. Is that nicer?”

“Mmm. Much better.”

When he shut his eyes again, he couldn’t think of anything he wanted more than to be here, where he was right now, with Shayne, being held and watched over. Instead of making him feel any better, though, the thought brought tears to his eyes and made his throat tighten.

Everything was so good, so perfect, and he still felt like life was too much.

Was that ever going to change? He couldn’t stop thinking about himself in his teens, hearing the people around him say that things would get easier, things would get better, he would get stronger as he grew up.

And here he was, practically grown up, and he still had no idea what he was doing.

Had every single person he’d ever met been lying to him?

“I love you,” he heard Shayne say under his breath. He was still smoothing a hand across Charlie’s stomach, but the movement was a little more subdued now.

Charlie swallowed against the tears. “I lo–”

“Ssshh.” Shayne combed the fingers of his other hand through Charlie’s hair. Gentle pulses of electricity seems to trickle down through Charlies nerves, his muscles, his veins. “Don’t say it back. Just accept it. Just lie there and be fucking loved for a sec, okay?”

“Okay,” Charlie said hoarsely.

“I love you, Charlie Benjamin Waters. You and this stupid hair.”

“Stupid?”

“Yeah, it changes shape and size every time I see you.” Shayne looped a short lock of blonde hair around his index finger. “That’s pretty stupid.”

A half-smile twitched across Charlie’s face. “Shut up.”

“Oh, so, you can tell me to shut up, and that’s fine?” Shayne asked. “The fuck kind of double standard is this?”

Charlie gazed up at Shayne’s dark brown eyes. He could feel the blush in his cheeks, and his nerves were buzzing from the tummy rubs and the hair play.

He reached up to poke Shayne’s cheek. “Shut up.”

“Fuck you.” Shayne took Charlie’s hand out of the air and pressed a kiss against his knuckles. “How are you feeling?”

Charlie made a sound that was halfway between a meh and the previously-deployed bleurgh. “Can we go to bed?”

“Of course we can, idiot.”

___

“Charlie. Charlie.”

Charlie loved touch.

But when he woke to find hands pressing on various parts of his body, flitting around, shaking him, his first thought was oh, shit, is the house on fire or something?

Sure, he was a heavy sleeper, but he had never known Shayne to be this rough while trying to wake him up before.

“Charlie, you need to wake up, love. You need to –”

And the second thought Charlie had was oh, shit, my stomach still hurts.

And that was right before the heel of Shayne’s hand happened to land on it a little too roughly, pressing right into the slight dip between his ribcage and his belly button.

The knots of pain seemed to writhe and split apart, letting loose a torrent of nausea into Charlie’s oesophagus.

He whimpered as he flew upright. He was vaguely aware of Shayne leaning over him now, leaping back to avoid being headbutted. He was a lot more concerned with what was going on with his belly. This felt a lot worse than the dull, steady ache he’d been experiencing earlier, which he’d blamed on stress.

Then again, the belly rubs Shayne had administered for him earlier were a far cry from the violent grasping and jabbing that had just transpired.

“Whoa, you okay, you okay?” Shayne demanded.

“Y-yeah, I just w-wish – I really wish you hadn’t... mmph.”

Charlie gulped over a splash of acid that gurgled up his throat, resulting in the wettest belch he’d ever done. A bubble of air caught in his chest, but he didn’t have time to worry about that, because it was rapidly being dislodged by another wave of nausea.

A thick gurgle wove its way through his stomach.

Charlie kicked the blanket back and clamped a hand to his mouth as he fled the bed.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Shayne was murmuring all the while.

Charlie didn’t stop to see if he was going to follow him; he just made a beeline for the bathroom. His head felt like it’d been taken off and sewn back at the wrong angle... or maybe he was just dizzy and he –

“Ow! Shit...” His toes throbbed as they collided with something heavy and hard on his way to the door.

“Oh, yeah, be careful, there’s...” Shayne’s voice barely registered. “There’s shit all over the floor.”

A monstrous belch rolled up from the pit of Charlie’s stomach as he stumbled into the hall. A watery stream of vomit coursed out of his mouth, and then dangled from his lips rather than falling straight to the hardwood floor.

“You’re okay, you’re okay.” Shayne was by his side then, one hand on his lower back and the other taking hold of his elbow. “Come on.”

___

After a couple more false alarms on the way across the landing, Charlie finally let go of the tension in his throat and abdominal muscles, and squeezed his eyes shut as about half of his dinner was dragged up from the pit of his stomach like a long, hot, wet rope.

“Ow,” Charlie whispered, wrapping his arms around his cramping belly. A shiver worked through him, from his spinning head to his still-throbbing toes. Even his teeth clattered together in the back of his mouth.

“Fuck,” Shayne sighed. “Should I get you a hoodie or something?”

Charlie shook his head.

“But you’ll freeze, Charlie.”

“Shayne, I’m boiling,” Charlie lamented. It was true, despite the advanced stage of undress he found himself in.

As much as Charlie adored pyjamas, he’d never really liked sleeping in anything other than his underwear. This usually meant that a middle-of-the-night bathroom trip was a cold and unpleasant one, but right now, he was grateful for his lack of layers. His skin felt prickly and his mouth was parched from how much he’d sweat in his sleep.

And this wasn’t the cold sweat that came with his night terrors, either.

“Just... stay with me.” He squinted up through the harsh bathroom light at Shayne. “Please.”

“I will. You know I will.”

Charlie choked on an unproductive gag. His stomach was still recovering from its first massive heave.

As the nausea ebbed out like a tide, Charlie’s mind started reeling all over again. He couldn’t shake the echo in his head, of Shayne’s voice telling him that there was ‘shit all over the floor’ of their bedroom. His right toe still throbbed from where it’d collided with something hard in the dark.

He remembered the floating objects in the living room, and icy dread trickled through his chest.

“Shayne,” he whimpered, resting a hand on the side of the bath. He was relieved when Shayne crouched down next to him, so he didn’t have to look up towards the light in order to see his boyfriend’s face. “Was I using telekinesis in my sleep?”

“Um.” Shayne’s gaze shifted between Charlie’s eyes, as though he was trying to decide whether or not he was in an appropriate state of mind to hear this. “Little bit. Yeah.”

“Did I make a mess?”

“You didn’t... not make a mess.”

Charlie groaned and leaned over the toilet bowl again, not sure if his stomach was roiling from distress or pure sickness this time. Either way, saliva began to pour freely from the insides of his cheeks.

“Don’t worry about that right now,” Shayne said softly.

Charlie whimpered through a retch, wishing that Shayne would rub his back, but he didn’t seem to make any move whatsoever to touch him. As freezing-cold as he knew Shayne’s hands would be, they would be better than nothing - and possibly even a relief from his burning fever.

Charlie coughed up another horrendous volume of vomit. Whatever was going on with his insides, his belly seemed eager to end up as empty as possible.

When he finally felt like he could breathe without the risk of inhaling and choking on his own stomach contents, he sat back from the bowl.

He reached a hand towards the toilet roll holder, despite it being obviously out of reach. Shayne sprung to his feet and hurried to get it for him. Charlie wordlessly wiped his chin and scooted back a little bit so that he could brace his back against the side of the bath – though the cold was so abrupt that he flinched when it touched his skin.

Shayne cleaned up a little more around the toilet seat, and flushed, before joining Charlie beside the bath. He laid a hand on Charlie’s shoulder.

“You good?”

Charlie’s breath shuddered, and Shayne grimaced sympathetically.

“Sorry. Of course you’re not.” Anxiety swam in his dark brown eyes. “Can... can I ask you something?”

Although he had a feeling he knew what was coming, Charlie nodded.

“You said you wished I hadn’t... done something,” Shayne said, “just before you ran off to get sick.”

Charlie’s heart sank.

“Was that part of a dream you were having, or did I...?” Shayne pulled his hand back from Charlie’s shoulder then, as though he’d suddenly realised he was doing something inappropriate. Or... or like he thought he’d done something so unforgiveable that he didn’t deserve to touch him anymore.

“Did I do something?” Shayne pulled his arms around himself. “What’d I do?”

Charlie drew a deep breath. As his belly muscles expanded, his stomach let out an ambiguous gurgle.

He knew how intensely Shayne latched onto feelings of guilt. He knew it was a problem for him. But at the end of the day, this was a relationship, and Charlie knew in his heart that it wouldn’t be good for either of them if he was always walking on eggshells, reluctant to be honest with the person he loved.

“While you were shaking me awake, your hand pressed right into my stomach.” Charlie couldn’t tear his eyes away from the floor tiles. “I’m not saying you made me throw up, but...”

“I made you throw up.” Shayne almost sounded nauseous himself.

“It’s okay. I mean...” Charlie glanced guiltily towards the toilet. “Based on what happened, I was probably going to puke my guts up at some point anyway...”

“Still, I – I knew you weren’t feeling well, and I still – I’m so sorry, Charlie,” Shayne whispered shakily. “I-I was just so worried, thinking you were having a really bad dream, I... I should’ve been gentle with you, I didn’t think.”

“Hey.” Charlie reached for Shayne’s hand and directed it towards his bare, aching belly. “When do you ever think?”

There was very little humour in the scoff that Shayne let out, but he linked his fingers with Charlie’s and let his thumb brush softly against Charlie’s knuckles, and then across the skin of his stomach.

“I’m really, really sorry.”

“I know, lovely.” Charlie blinked slowly. The motion of Shayne’s thumb felt like cool, refreshing trickles of water across his skin. He would reassure his poor, guilt-ridden boyfriend some more tomorrow; right now, he just needed to melt into his touch.

“How are you feeling now? You ready to go back to bed?”

Charlie shrugged. His heavy head and even heavier eyelids were practically begging him to slip into a horizontal position for a couple of hours, and bed sounded much better than curling up here, on the bathroom tiles.

“Mm,” he groaned when his body refused to magically move on its own. He let his eyelids slide shut. Where were his telekinetic talents when they could have actually been useful?

“I’ll, um...” Shayne cleared his throat and brushed his palm back and forth over Charlie’s belly button. “If you want some extra motivation, I promise I’ll give you really nice... um, tummy rubs, once we’re back in –”

Charlie’s eyes fluttered open in a daze. “Okay, okay, ‘m going.”

#StW Charlie #sickfic #emeto #OC sickfic #OC emeto #stomach kink #kink mention #belly rubs #tummy rubs #hurt and comfort #hurt comfort #novemetober #novemetober 2022

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writing-whump · 11 months

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Alright alright alright - do you do female sickee? I'd love to see Anneliese get really sick while at the gym with the guys and it hits her kinda out of nowhere, so she can't really leave. I wonder how the boys would react, seeing as she mostly keeps to herself! How would Julian act? And Ryan? And Lucian??

Awww I love this prompt. I had to write it right away. Thank you so much :D

Anneliese being sick for first time around the boys.

-----

Anneliese refused to get sick. That was out of the question. Prevention was her strongest weapon, right along with good sleep, healthy diet and lots of vitamins. Her absolute horror at getting sick this far from home, while so alone and without a built network of help contacts made her more motivated to live a balanced life style than ever before.

And getting a stomach ache was the worst possible sickness of all.

Because it was so nasty of course. What could possible come out of an upset belly? Neither end was good. Maybe if you could handle with some churning and mint tea, but that was way too emebrassing.

So there was absolutely no way she was going to be sick.

She just didn't count with the effects of the sun.

April and the beginning of May were extremely rainy so at the first sign of light, everyone rushed outdoors. Even her club memebers. They spontaneously moved to the campus garden, running laps and shadow training.

Anneliese found a nice place on the bench. It wasn't covered by any shade, but she needed the support for her laptop to not slide down, and it wasn't that hot.

The sun finally settled and the training was coming to end. Anneliese stretched out on the bench, slowly coming out from her flow. She made lots of good notes today. Peak concentration.

Her eyes itched as she closed down her laptop and shivered. Was the evening chilling the air so quickly?

She stood up and almost fell right back down. While sitting and typing she didn't notice at all, but now she was hot, entirely too hot and her head was pounding like crazy. She had to hold on to the bench for support to stand up, slowly.

This wasn't good. Beside the pulsing, a lighting like pain split her forehead in two and she felt nausea rising up. Her stomach churned angrily and then twisted together and she doubled in half, trying to breathe. This was bad. Could she get a heatstroke so quickly? She wasn't even in the sun that long...

To be fair, she was in the sun about never. This must have been a shocking dose to her body.

Half blind from the pain cutting her head open with a hammer, she stumbled towards the gym. She heard the boys talking relaxed somewhere to her right, but didn't pay them any mind, hurting through the glass door. Putting her laptop safely away was the first step. Shaking her light sweater off was the second. The walls were tilting fiercely and she had to go by touch to move. She had no time for emebrassment, for escape plans, anything. Her thoughts couldn't get through the terrible pounding at all.

Sliding by the wall with her hand she struggled to the general direction of the bathrooms. Just five more steps. Four. Three.

"Hi, Ann! Did you see what the guys-"

She registered Julian's voice over at the door but all she could do in response to the interruption was heave. Vomit rushed past her lips, chunky and slopy remnants of her lunch.

"Jesus Christ, Ann!"

Her head was actually splitting. She opened her eyes into slits, half-expecting to see blood dripping from her hair or something.

She heaved again and pitched over, her hold on the smooth wall failing...

She was in the process of falling, when strong hands caught her from behind. She braced herself against them, not caring who it was just as more sick shot out of her.

"Okay. You are okay. Just hold on."

Suddenly there was a chair and she was gently guided to sit on it. She brushed her hand over her mouth, but she couldn't open her eyes properly. The hammer was mercilessly attacking the front of her skull. All she could do was claw at the spot with her other hand.

"Hey hey, don't do that. Ann? What's wrong?" Julian's soft voice sounded by her ear.

There was the sound of door opening. "What the hell happened?" That was Ryan. His loud voice made her cringe. She whimpered.

"She threw up. Lucian, what do I do?" Julian was holding her hand away from her face in a gentle but firm grip.

She couldn't see, completely helpess and only with her hearing for help. She felt someone's cold hand on her neck though.

"She is too warm. Get me a wet towel, Julian." Lucian's voice cut through the confusion. Nice and steady. He didn't sound panicked at all. She latched on to it.

The next thing she remembered was the bliss of something cold and wet pressed against her face. She buried her face into the towel. The headache didn't stop, but at least she could believe it was a headache and not a nasty instrument for ramming nails.

She opened her eyes to a blurry confusing sight.

Julian was crouching in front of her, holding the towel, face concerned and pinched.

Lucian was standing behind her, a steadying hand on her shoulder. His touch was feather light, but tender, like the welcoming stream of a lighthouse beacon.

And then there was Ryan, eyebrows furrowed in unusual expression, kneeling beside her. His hands still wrapped up in white bandages for strengthening under boxing gloves hovered in the air, unsure what to do.

"Anneliese," Lucian called her world into focused. "I think you have a heatstroke."

She looked at him with one eye while clutching the towel to her head for dear life.

"Should we take her to a hospital?" Julian asked, looking at Lucian. If she had her laptop, she would write that down. It was fascinating to watch how Julian and Ryan both looked at Lucian expectantly to give them orders.

"Anneliese, how bad is it? Do you want to go checked out or would you rather go home?" He slowly moved his pale hand to her forehead, gently putting it against her cheek. "You have a fever coming up."

His touch felt good. She leaned into it and said in a small voice: "I want to go home."

"I'll take her," Ryan offered immediately.

"Hmm." Lucian pulled his hand back. "You may. But make her comfortable as much as possible. Water, cold compress, a thermometer,..."

Anneliese's attention faded out at that. She leaned forward, bracing her elbows against her knees. She was too tired to follow. They could throw her under the bus or bury her in the garden. She didn't care.

Julian took her palms into his and squeezed.

"Luca, can I carry her?" She didn't hear the answer, just felt Juls's hands disappear, and someone else's grip on her shoulder. "Come on, prof. I'll carry you like a princess today." Then she was sliding from the chair and being lifted. Her legs dangled in the air as she dropped her head at Ryan's sturdy chest, her hands tangled in the towel she held against her face.

Warm air hit her face. She didn't even realize her eyes slid shut so quickly.

"You don't have to tag along," Ryan grumbled under her ear.

"I'll just take her stuff. She shouldn't be alone like this." Julian sounded close behind. He even kept his voice quite for her.

"She won't be alone. Hi, princess, how you doing?"

"S't hot." She mumbled. The heat wasn't helping the pounding and the towel was drying up.

"I know I am. That's why you are already inviting me to your place." She could picture the smirk that went with it.

"Might throw up on you," she warned, not even worried about that horrible statement. She felt weirdly detached, a limp ragdoll in his arms.

Ryan huffed out a laugh, unconcerned. "That's okay." He squeezed her arms gently, voice growing serious. "Just hold on a little longer. You will feel better in no time."

#whump #emeto #emeto fic #emetophilia #sickfic #heatstroke #whump fic #hurt comfort #wip: guarded hearts #hope you like it

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secretobsessionstuff · 2 years

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I love your works SO MUCH! They literally make my entire week. Madix and Dakota are my favorite characters.

I was wondering could you write one where Madix has an anxiety or panic attack in front of Dakota and he has to help him because Riley isn't there ( for some reason he isn't available). With 9,46,67,98 sickiee list and 8,34,68 caretaker list. You can change or exclude any prompts if you feel like they don't fit with the way you want to write this. All I ask for is that Dakota is the caretaker and Riley isn't there or shows up briefly near the end. (I love Riley too, I just want to see what it would happen if he wasn't there during the attack).

Dude seeing your icon and name in my notifications makes my entire week! It's so nice to see people who follow my ocs like you do 💙

The prompts I used from the Sickee list are:

9. “Please go away. I don’t want you to see me like this.”

46. “I think I might throw up.”

67. "I-I can't do this anymore."

98. "I can't get my hands to stop shaking."

And from the Caretaker list (I didn't use #68):

8. "Talk to me. What's going on?"

34. "You don't need to be embarrassed. It's just me."

Content Warning: Panic attack, depression, anxiety, graphic descriptions of vomiting!!

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

On the fourteenth day of Madix’ official mental health leave, Dakota took it upon himself to visit his friend. He showed up at Madix’s door, carrying a Tupperware container of mac and cheese, a bag of chips, and homemade brownies. The brownies were Blair-made.

Madix groaned when he heard the doorbell ring. It took him a second to detangle himself from his bed. Actually, it took him more than a second—closer to a full minute—to finally emerge from his dark cave.

Since being on forced-leave from work, he’d taken to sleeping in the spare bedroom that used to be Riley’s room before they began sharing a bed. At first, Madix hid in his usual room, but he felt bad that Riley kept coming home to a messy room. More often than not, Riley’ side of the bed was taken up with food wrappers, a dead laptop, and was without a sheet because the stupid corners wouldn’t stay tucked in.

Now Madix had moved himself to the spare room, telling himself that he was being considerate to his boyfriend. Somehow the room turned into a den of dirty clothes and dirty dishes. It smelled liked sweat, forgotten food, and morning breath. The bedsheets and pillowcases were perpetually damp—either from tears of sweat, or even a spilled beverage. Whenever Madix thought about cleaning, a weight in his chest pinned him to the bed as if lead lined his lungs. He had so much time on his hands, but time was useless without the motivation to do something with it.

Riley tried to help; he really did. But he still had school and work. He cleaned as much as he could; he stayed up with Madix, talking about how he could help; he drove Madix to his therapy sessions. But it was hard when all Madix wanted to do was hide away from the world.

“I can’t have a panic attack if I’m sleeping,” he told Riley once when he missed his appointment with Dr. Marlow.

To Madix, it seemed inevitable that any change to this depressing routine (or lack of routine) would overwhelm his mind and bring back that sense of doom.

That’s why he kept telling Dakota not to visit him. Every text was the same: I just want to be alone. Sorry.

Eventually Dakota had had enough. That was why he was currently standing in Madix’s doorway, wearing a stern expression. An expression that said I’m coming in whether you want me to or not.

“What are you doing here?” Madix asked when he opened the door. He wore the same sweatpants and shirt from the last few days (and nights). Sometimes it surprised him that the floor to his bedroom was piled with clothes, even though he never seemed to change.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Dakota replied, already squeezing passed his friend into the house. “We always watch New Girl at your place. You have the bigger TV. I think we’re on episode 8 now.”

“Didn’t you get my texts?”

“Nope.” Dakota popped the P to that word as he set the food down on the counter.

Despite his comment about the TV, he went straight to Madix’s room. When he found the usual room clean, he nodded in understanding and went to the spare bedroom.

“I know what you’re doing, Kota,” Madix said, following Dakota down the hall.

Dakota ignored this and pushed open the door to the spare room. He whistled at the sight of it. “Where do you keep the garbage bags?”

“In the kitchen. Under the sink.” Dakota was on the move before Madix could finish his sentence. Again, he had to jog to keep up with the boy. “Dakota, please stop. Just listen—”

“No, you listen.” Dakota spun around and approached his friend. “We’re going to clean up your room. And I do mean we. You can’t leave it up to Riley when he gets home every night. Then we’ll eat some mac and cheese and watch New Girl. And maybe later I’ll take you outside for some goddamn vitamin D. You look like spoiled milk.” The lines on Dakota’s face stayed soft even as he spoke with a hard voice. He stared at Madix long enough to see his words sink in. He was so close to his friend that he could see the pools of darkness under his eyes. Dakota crinkled his nose. “Add a shower to that list. You smell like spoiled milk too.”

Madix found himself backed up against the wall in the hall. All that sounded pretty nice if he thought about it. A clean room. Fresh air. A shower.

But it was all too much.

Lately he lost all control over his mind. The smallest things sent him spiraling. Or nothing at all. Sometimes the anxiety stole his voice. Sometimes it came when he was surrounded by friends. Sometimes the panic stopped his from doing his job properly. He couldn’t control when those feelings would surface, and it scared the living shit out of him. He used to pride himself on being composed and emotionally stable. And now he couldn’t even see his best friend without worrying about the anxiety that dominated his life recently.

“I can’t,” he breathed out. It came out as a raspy whisper as he slid his back down the wall. “I-I can't do this anymore.” He drew his knees up to his chest.

“What can’t you do?” Dakota said softly. He lowered himself to the floor and put a steady hand on Madix’s knee. “Talk to me.”

“This.” Madix gestured to nothing. But to him he gestured to everything. The words to describe This were not coming, so he simply put his head in his hands. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to tell you.”

“Hey, hey,” Dakota said, trying to deescalate the situation that he felt responsible for creating. “That’s okay. You don’t need to explain anything. I just thought having a clean room would help.”

“It would—” Madix felt his mind working faster that his mouth. There was so much he wanted to say. Dakota was right about it all. A clean room would help. Sunshine on his face would help. “I want to do it all, but…” He removed his hands from his face so Dakota could see he was being genuine. The electricity in his blood made his fingers tremble; just another reminder that his body wasn’t in his control. “Ugh God, I can't get my hands to stop shaking.”

“Okay,” Dakota said, calmly grabbing Madix’s hands in his larger ones. They were indeed shaking. “Okay. I didn’t mean to overwhelm you. Take a deep breath and when you’re ready I’ll help you.”

Madix forced himself to take a deep breath before the anxiety got any worse. “I don’t want it to happen again. It scares me.”

“It would scare me too,” Dakota said simply. Riley had told him enough about Madix’s panic attacks to know that they were debilitating. He had to calm Madix down before it hit him full force. “Just keep breathing like you are.”

“I’m so fucking selfish, Dakota.” Madix said, his voice shaking. “You’re right. Riley’s been doing everything for me.”

“First of all, you’re not being selfish. You’re allowed to need help, and I’m sure Riley is grateful when you take his help. Second of all, now is not the time for this. Put all that out of your mind.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Think of something else.” Dakota scoured his mind for something that could distract Madix. “Like, try to name all the planets in the solar system. Or say all the lines from Pirates of the Caribbean. God knows you watch that movie more than enough.”

“Fine. Okay.”

The two of them sat on the floor in the hallway. Madix’s chest rose and feel rapidly. The distraction wasn’t helping. The weight in his chest dropped to his belly, making him feel nauseous and dizzy. Sure, his bi panic came back when he thought about Will Turner and Elizabeth Swann, but the mentally ill panic was still there. Not as fun as bi panic.

Dakota dared to break the silence after a moment, worried by the pallor in Madix’s cheeks. He was pretty sure the expression on Madix’s face was not from imagining his favourite movie. “What are you thinking about?”

“I think I might throw up,” Madix said quickly and simply.

“Hmm…that wasn’t one of my suggestions.”

And then Madix lurched forward, gagging into the hand that he slapped over his mouth. He stood up shakily and ran to the bathroom. Luckily, he wasn’t far. He only had to stumble a few feet before retching over the toilet.

By this point, Dakota was feeling terrible. Not in the same way Madix was, but still terrible. He only wanted to help by coming over, but it seemed he was making things worse.

“Oh, Mads. I’m sorry,” he said, kneeling by his friend. He put his hand in between Madix’s shoulder blades, feeling his muscles spasm with every heave.

A torrent of vomit splattered into the bowl, making Dakota wince. Tears and snot streamed down Madix’s face. The boy belched up another wave just as a sob got caught in his throat. Madix moaned and squeezed his eyes tightly.

Dakota’s hand on his back was an odd sensation. Dakota had seen him throw up plenty of times, but never in such a state. It had only ever been Riley who saw him like this, so it was weird to have his friend here instead. Like a shoe that didn’t fit quite right, Dakota’s hand felt far too large on his back. Still the pressure was comforting. While Riley’s hand was smaller and less uncertain, Dakota’s was heavy, never absent.

Madix could feel his limbs trembling, threatening to buckle. Each sob racked his chest with a tight ache. The ache didn’t come from throwing up; it came from the fact that his grasp on himself was slipping. He burped up another wave of sick before finally being able to say anything.

“Please go away,” he choked out. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”

Dakota frowned. It wasn’t like Madix to say such a thing, especially not with him. “You don't need to be embarrassed. It's just me.”

“I’m not embarrassed. It’s just—you don’t need to do this. You don’t need to stay.”

“But I want to stay. I want to help. When will you realize that?”

Madix sniffled. He could think of nothing to say. He was in a foreign land here. Riley was always with him when things got this way, but never so enthusiastically. Dakota’s determination was comforting in a way that only he could be. Madix suddenly felt the intense desire to rest his head on his friend’s shoulder.

So that’s what he did. He knew that Dakota could feel him shaking against his body, but he didn’t care. “Thank you. I’m sorry you have to deal with this. I’m being gross and whiny and I’m sorry.” His voice and body trembled as if he had just come from a blizzard and Dakota was trying to warm him up.

“Shh, shh,” Dakota said as he hugged Madix, rubbing his hand down his friend’s back. “I know you’re used to Riley being here. You’re used to tiptoeing around him because this stuff bothers him. But it doesn’t bother me.”

“It makes me so damn sick, Dakota,” Madix said, sniffling against the strong body that held him. “Every time, I get shaky and nauseous. Riley is always there, but sometimes I wish he weren’t. It just means I have to worry about whatever the hell is going on in my messed-up brain and Riley.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

That one sentence made Madix deflate. That’s exactly what it was. With three simple words, Dakota got it entirely. All of a sudden, Madix let out a deep exhale as his limbs got heavy. The only reason he stayed upright was because Dakota held onto him.

Eventually, Dakota pulled back from the hug. He looked at Madix for a second, seeing a multitudinous of emotions in the tears that wet his cheeks.

Madix dragged a hand across his face. He felt like a squeezed-out sponge. “Please don’t tell Riley what I told you.”

“I won’t, but this is something you should be talking about in therapy.”

“I will…now that I’m finally able to put it into words.” Madix shivered for real this time, getting a chill from the cold sweat drying on his skin. He could feel his heart rate coming down and knew that he was likely to crash in the next few minutes. “You’ll stick around?”

“Hell yes!” Dakota exclaimed. “Episode 8, like I said. You don’t have to do any cleaning if that feels too overwhelming right now.”

Madix nodded. “Please don’t feel guilty about any of this. I’m grateful you came over.”

Dakota laughed and shook his head, but not because anything was funny. “You really can’t turn off, can you? ‘Don’t tell Riley’, ‘Don’t feel guilty’. Man, you need a break from people.”

“You have no idea.”

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darthhopereblogs · 1 year

Text

Pending prompts:

If you want to see one of these send me a number!

(Make sure to click to see the full prompt :)

1. Transportation sickness

2. Seasickness

3. Airsickness Clover

4. Road trip

5. Motion sickness

6. Fluff + whump

7. Work

8. Falling lights!

9. Ummm…

10. Call Dr. House!

11. Ow.

12. Junk food

13. Movie

14. Out of nowhere

15. Full schedule

16. Insomnia

17. Side effects

18. Rude!

19. Coffee

20. Storm!

21. Whatcha doin?

22. Gah!

23. Would you stop it!

24. Great. Now I’m on my own

25. Appendix!

26. Flu

27. Back + car = uh oh

28. The show must go on!

29. I thought you were asleep!

30. Hiding it

31. Well, now your unconscious

32. Altitude sickness

33. Ahhhhh!

34. Weddings

35. Motion sickness 2.0

36. Dialogue 1 (checklist)

37. Cars

38. 10 prompts

39. Wing Whump

40. Falcon and Jade

41. Emeto this or that?

42. Acting different

43. Noah and Nathan

44. Clover? Is that you?

45. Dialogue 2

46. Dialogue 3 (checklist)

47. Company

48. Formal

49. WATER!

50. Combination 3

51. Combination 2

52. Now you decide to ambush me!?!

53. Spicy… as in the food

54. Office

55. RUDE!

56. Movie 2.0

57. Sleeping

58. Not yourself

59. Leader whump

60. Whump. Just whump

61. What/need

62. Work! (I swear, I have like ten ideas for this one)

63. You seem different

64. Drying tears

65. Kidnapping!

66. Upside-down

67. This’ll get messy

68. Drabble-ish

69. I need to write this

70. Muscle relaxants

71. Oh no

72. Empty

73. Are you okay? (Checklist)

74. POV: the sickee (checklist)

75. Youngest team member

76. Angry

77. Prompts list 1

78. Hospital waiting room

79. Oh boy

80. Injured

81. No hiding it

82. Cold/flu

83. Where are you?

84. Whump ideas: sick

85. Rich

86. Event

87. Hungry?

88. Sassy caretakers

89: Emeto + sickness

90. Crying

91. Villain

92. Lecture

93. Brushing teeth

94. Holiday

95. Cold in car

PT two

#prompts #ask game #defender tales #sick fic #emeto #whump #sickfic #sickness #prompt list

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danafeelingsick · 8 months

Text

need a desperate sickie with both of their hands clasped tight over their mouth, very tensed, breathing hard, close to hyperventilating, eyes wide, darting all over, white faced, sweating buckets, mumbling with increasing panic:

I'm going to puke. Fuck, I'm going to puke. I'm going to puke!

#emetophilia #emeto #vomiting #tw vomit #tw emeto #sickfic prompts #emeto prompts #emeto scenario #sick scenario #sickie prompts #sickee prompts #pov sickie #sick whump #nausea #mentions of panic attack

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bellysoupset · 1 year

Note

Will we be seeing more of Wendy's friends?

There are currently no other stories involving them, but I'm willing to write them as background characters if needed for a prompt! I find it very important that Bell starts to build her own little network and break down certain internalized ideas. That said, I don't think I'd write Barbie/Meg as sickees or main caretakers, we're just not there.

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musashi · 2 years

Note

hello sky i am here to blow up your inbox! (apologies if any of these have been asked before or spoken on jdjdjdj)

sicktember is nearly upon us! which day are you most excited to post? which prompt was the most fun to write overall? were there any prompts that you saw and had a fic idea pop fully formed into your mind? which prompt was the most satisfying to write? which prompt was your favorite? tell me about some of your favorite individual scenes? which day(s) are you most looking forward to reading other peoples fics for? are there any alt prompts that you hope to see a lot of posts for? are there any tropes you really hope to see with certain prompts? besides fran, which character have you most enjoyed writing for? ik you prefer caring, but are there any prompts where you would prefer to be the sickee?

(i am going to bite the hospital staff to death, good luck with your next appointment, i hope the pain eases soon ♥️)

i love you. more than anything in the entire universe

SICKTEMBER WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

which day are you most excited to post?

HM THATS A GOOD QUESTION...... i think day 21 [alt: soft pyjamas] is the answer to all questions of this nature though, it is a fic i have been trying to write for years but never had the right characters for it, but now i do!!!

which prompt was the most fun to write overall?

maybe my day 12 [stress-induced illness / psychogenic fever] because manfred and franziska literally interact like twice in canon so every time i get to write them i just start running circles around my word doc like an excited dog

were there any prompts that you saw and had a fic idea pop fully formed into your mind?

day 5 ['great, now i have your germs all over me'] easily because phoenix is canonically a plague rat and one time him and franziska did a whole investigation while he was not even close to being on the mend. i was just like oh i am going to make them SO irritating.

which prompt was the most satisfying to write?

day 7 [a cry for attention] because it stumped me for SO long, i didnt know what to do because none of my muses are particularly whiny/attention-seeking, but then i figured out a way to flip the prompt on its head and was SO satisfied with it and it's one of my favourite fills to this day.

which prompt was your favorite?

god i love them all so much. i think probably my day 10 ['blow your nose!'] tho because i like giving powerful women emphatic headcolds. it's kind of the reason i was put on earth i think.

tell me about some of your favorite individual scenes?

basically any time maya and franziska are doing their cute couple banter. they just work together so well, i love when they start going.

there's a scene in one fill where franziska stays home sick and gumshoe kicks down her door and tries to arrest maya cause he doesn't know theyre dating and thinks maya has her hostage

licherally ANYTHING with manfred makes me clutch at my heart and keel over but there's a scene where he carries franziska back to her room that i'm never gonna stop thinking about

in my day 4 fill miles brings teenage franziska cola to help her nausea and then in my day 18 fill franziska does the same to him (cola & pretzel sticks r like the german equivalent of saltines and 7 up. zwieback? even better)

at one point franziska says the words "they put their whole pussy in this ice cream"

which day(s) are you most looking forward to reading other peoples fics for?

day 10 because i'm a sucker for a sniffly sickie,,, i like em kinda waterlogged you know.

are there any alt prompts that you hope to see a lot of posts for?

VAPOR RUBBBBBBB i never see vapor rub in sickfic. why. literally WHY. the tenderness. the vulnerability. the sexual tension, if that's your jam. i'm guilty of it too, i have never actually written it into a fic...... UNTIL NOW (and then i fucked myself by making it smut so now i cant submit it to any of the collections gfhfg)

are there any tropes you really hope to see with certain prompts?

honestly see above fghdfg

besides fran, which character have you most enjoyed writing for?

gumshoe <3

ik you prefer caring, but are there any prompts where you would prefer to be the sickee?

if someone looked after me in any capacity i would black out from love. i have been shown basically no overt care of that manner in my life, if someone expressed even the slightest modicum of worry over my wellbeing i would start ugly crying like that one franziska sprite at the end of JFA. thats exactly the face i would make. i would eagerly live out all these prompts in real if there was even a 5% chance someone would express interest in looking after me or worrying about me in any capacity.

16 of my 30 fills are about franziska being cared for. that is not coincidental.

@vonpharma reminder that sickfic blog!!! everyone should follow my sickfic blog!!! it does not even have 50 followers.

#wendy answers #linkswings #i like to care for people and by default i tend to project onto the caretaker #but thats mostly because i can't get it in my head that i'll ever receive that kind of care #it'd break my heart lol. with some rare exceptions i just like #do not ever think i'll be the kind of person who Receives Care if that makes sense #i can't be wishing too hard or i'll just get sad :')#ANYWAYS

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im-feeling-sick · 2 years

Text

new ocs:

alex smiths (he/they demiboy) & blake taylor (she/her)

been together for a year

alex is ashley's younger sibling (aged 21), and he's the main sickee of the two (mostly emeto and stuffing)

blake is more the caretaker, but she doesn't mind it. sometimes she gets sick too and then it's alex's turn to take care of her

I'll post what they look like later! 💕 send in prompts ily

#my ocs #alex smiths #blake taylor #emeto #emetophilia #kat speaks

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darthhope999 · 1 year

Text

Dialogue prompts: POV: the sickee

I am only making this so I can keep track of which ones I have already written for. If you want to re-blog please re-blog the original by @emphasis-on-the-comfort here

Feel free to send me a number!

1. "Is dinner sitting okay with you? Because l'm not feeling too good...

2. "I'm sorry. I tried to make it. I'll clean it up."

3. "I don't think l'm going to come. My stomach's feeling a little iffy." Oscuro (stomach bug)

4. "I-I need to sit down."

5. "I know it's late, but can you come come over?" Cobalt (food poisoning)

6. "I'm fine. You can quit hovering."

7. "Do I feel warm to you?"

8. "Can you take me home?"

9. "Please go away. I don't want you to see me like this."

10. "I must've eaten something bad."

11. "I feel really weird. I don't know what's wrong with me."

12. "I'm so tired but I can't sleep."

13. "My stomach's a little upset."

14. "I don't think I can get up."

15. "Can you bring me the garbage can?"

16. "I think l'm going to be sick."

17. "C-Can you excuse me for a moment?" *runs to bathroom to get sick*

18. "Something's wrong. I really don't feel good."

19. "It's just a little stomachache. I'm fine."

20. "I'm sorry I woke you up. I'lI be okay. You can go back to bed."

21. "I don't think I'm okay."

22. "Can you stay?"

23. "You don't need to wait on me hand and foot.

24. "I thought I was just hungry, but...

25. "I feel like I'm on a rollercoaster."

26. "I want to go to bed and sleep for years."

27. "I feel like I'm ruining everybody's night."

28. "I-I don't want to--" *gulp* "--throw up."

29. "Ugh. I'm so nauseous but nothing's happening."

30. "You don't have to sit in here with me."

31. "Mm? Why are you shaking me?"

32. "I can't believe I just threw up on you. I'm so sorry."

33. "Leave me alone. I just want to sleep."

34. *feigning grumpiness* "Why are you laughing at my misery?"

35. "This is the worst possible time for me to get sick."

36. "I feel so gross."

37. "Thank you for taking care of me."

38. "I just want this to be over."

39. "You shouldn't be here. I'm probably contagious."

40. "I can't stop sweating."

41. "I really need some company right now."

42. "I feel like I'm dying."

43. "I can't believe this is happening. I never get sick."

44. "My stomach feels like it's been turned inside out."

45. "I-I feel so sick. I-I don't know what to do."

46. "I think I might throw up."

47. "I already told you I don't want anything to eat. Quit asking me."

48. "I'm so embarrassed."

49. "I think I'm coming down with something."

50. "Can you help me get dressed?"

51. "Is it hot in here?"

52. "I h-hate this. I don't feel good."

53. "I can get it myself. You've done so much for me already..."

54. "Sorry you had to see that..."

55. "I think I might be running a fever."

56. "How will I know if I need to throw up? l've never puked before."

57. "I'm just tired. That's all this is."

58. "How long did I sleep for?"

59. "I want my mom."

60. "I feel out of it today."

61. "M' gn'a throw up 'gain."

62. "I'm sorry you're the one who got stuck with me."

63. "My stomach's cramping really bad."

64. "I can't get comfortable."

65. "Why do you think I'm lying? I swear I don't feel good."

66. "I don't know why my stomach is so pissed off."

67. "I-I can't do this anymore.

68. "A-Are you... stroking my hair?"

69. "I know you're worried about me, but you need to get some rest, too."

70. "I think I ate too much. I feel awful.

71. "I think I caught that bug that's been going around." (Work in progress)

72. "I haven't been sleeping too good lately."

73. "I'm gonna go lie down for a bit before we go."

74. "My stomach is aching so bad right now. This is torture."

75. "Just talk to me. Please? I need a distraction."

76. "This is the worst feeling ever."

77. "I-I just want to sit for a minute. If that's okay."

78. "I can't see straight. Everything is spinning."

79. "Can you turn up the heat?"

80. "I don't normally get carsick like this."

81. "I'm feeling kind of faint..

82. "I don't think I'm finished. I'm still so nauseous."

83. "I don't know why I'm crying. I-I just don't feel good."

84. "I knew I'd regret eating that."

85. "Please make it stop."

86. "I can't keep my eyes open."

87. "Can you grab me another blanket? I'm still freezing."

88. "You made me soup?"

89. "I don't know what wrong. I just feel so weak."

90. "I hate being alone when I'm sick."

91. "I don't think my stomach can handle that right now."

92. "I'm not feeing very well tonight. I think I'm going to head to bed early."

93. "I seriously feel like I might throw up."

94. "Everyone's staring at me."

95. "Is it okay if I lean on you?"

96. "I can't tell if I'm hungry or if I'm going to puke."

97. "Just let me suffer in peace."

98. "I can't get my hands to stop shaking."

99. "I feel like I'm walking through a fog."

100. "Why are you looking at me like that? I'm fine."

#NOT MINE #ask me about my ocs #open to requests #ask game #prompts #don’t reblog

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