would you be willing to write a solangelo sickfic where one of them is sick but is also outrageously emetophobic? so they keep working themselves up and making the nausea like 10x worse while the other tries to calm them down
would you write something where a character is unbelievably nauseous, but they can’t get any relief because they aren’t even able to throw up? and they’re all teary-eyed and riled up from the frustration and the discomfort of it, and a friend / significant other stays with them to rub their back and tries to help them calm down ❀.(*´◡`*)❀.
Can you write something where a character pukes in something that ISNT a toilet or a bucket? Like there’s just no way they can get to a bathroom or bucket in time and have to puke in something less convenient?
Nico closed his eyes, whining low from the back of his throat. He pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on them.
Will cast him a sideways glance, his eyes straying from the television as he paused the movie. “Everything okay?” he asked hesitantly.
“My stomach…,” Nico groaned. He buried his face between his knees and sucked in a deep shuddering breath as his stomach contents sloshed nauseatingly, the organ making a displeased gurgling sound.
“Still?” Will asked, placing a hand on Nico’s shoulder. The latter had been feeling queasy all day, but had otherwise been relatively fine, so they’d both brushed it off as indigestion from that morning’s breakfast. They had decided to camp out on the couch, binge watching romcoms and eating popcorn. Nico had even helped with the popcorn, the bowl now sitting between them.
But now he nodded miserably. His throat tightened and he burped, loud and sick. “Ugh…I don’t feel good.”
Will frowned. “Do we need to head to the bathroom?”
“No—” he hiccuped, swallowing thickly before trusting himself to speak. “’M not gonna be sick. Just start the movie.”
Reluctantly, Will pressed play, though his attention remained solely on Nico. He had yet to resurface from his crouched position on the couch, and Will was not going to pretend he couldn’t hear the ominous rumblings coming from Nico’s belly.
Will scooted over and rubbed Nico squarely between his shoulder blades, cringing when the latter let out another sick sounding belch. Nico whimpered, shuddering as a sharp cramp rippled through his stomach.
Judging by the unhappy noises emanating from his stomach, Nico was likely fighting a losing battle. He groaned suddenly, squirming away from Will’s touch.
“Are you all right?”
“Stop touching,” Nico pleaded through clenched teeth. “It’s too hot…”
He raised his head, finally meeting Will’s eyes. The movement was not good to him and he gagged suddenly and slapped his hands over his mouth. He looked startled, almost tearful.
Will grabbed his arm and stood. “Come on. I’m taking you to the bathroom.”
Nico shook his head vigorously, shutting his eyes and sitting perfectly still when his nausea swelled. He swallowed deliberately and lowered his hands. “I’m fine.” He slowly unfurled himself, dropping his legs to the floor and opened his eyes, before draping an arm over the top of his stomach. It let out a low rumble and Nico hiccuped.
“Leave me alone, Will. I’m not…going to be—” His shoulders jerked with a series of dry heaves. After a few more unproductive heaves, his stomach seemed to have settled, but there were tears brimming at the corners of his eyes. Nico took in a breath through his nose and clenched his teeth, his mouth pressed into a thin line.
Will placed a gentle hand on Nico’s knee, trying not to crowd him. He kept his gaze fixed and tried to make himself sound stern. “You need to get it out of your system, Nico. It’s the only way you’re going to start feeling better.”
“I can’t,” Nico said, and now he was sobbing. “I feel like shit, but I can't—I can’t throw up. And I—I want—”
Through the tears, a qualm of nausea bubbled uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach, and Nico coughed, grimacing at the sour taste in his mouth. He belched wetly, too worked up now to even bother covering his mouth.
“Hey, hey—shhh, calm down. Baby, you’re making yourself sicker. Breathe, okay? You’re going to get through this.”
Nico took a few shaky breaths, the nausea fading somewhat. “I feel really sick,” he whined. “C-Can we just not talk about it? It’ll g-go away on its own.”
Will frowned, but nodded reluctantly, watching as Nico swiped at his eyes. He knew there was no changing Nico’s mind when he got like this, but he also knew that Nico was going to throw up. His face was pale and sickly, and he looked only moments away from losing it.
They moved their eyes back to the television, though neither of them paid it any attention. Will debated actually picking up Nico and carrying him to the bathroom against his will—he was stronger and lifting Nico when he was this ill would be no problem—but that really would set him off and Nico would never forgive him. Nico, on the other hand, hiccuped against the mounting ache in his stomach, uttering a distressed whimper as it twisted and churned.
After a few minutes, Nico realized that vomiting was unavoidable. He opened his mouth to tell Will, but he lurched forward, retching unexpectedly.
Will started, having been caught in his own thoughts. He immediately made to stand, yanking Nico’s arm in an attempt to avoid a massive cleanup. But Nico shook his head, wild-eyed, knowing that he would never make it to the bathroom in time. Will’s eyes darted around frantically, looking for a trash can, a bucket, anything—before he spotted the popcorn bowl.
He picked it up and thrust it into Nico’s hands, and not a moment too soon. Nico gagged and belched over the bowl, his breakfast coming back up in a torrent of partially digested food and stomach acid. Nico’s breathing was choppy, close to hyperventilation, and his insides sloshed and flipped abhorrently. He whined, looking close to tears again.
“Try not to get yourself worked up,” Will suggested. “You’re only going to make this worse for yourself.” He placed a grounding hand on Nico’s shoulder, grimacing as the latter burped and spit into the bowl. “Deep breaths, okay?”
Nico tried to do as instructed, but was overwhelmed by the powerful roiling in his gut and buried his face in the bowl as he vomited again.
Will took the bowl, lowering it from Nico’s face, seriously worried that Nico might actually drown in his own sick. He grimaced as Nico heaved, emptying the rest of his stomach.
Nico coughed and spit a few more times into the bowl, glad that Will had saved him the trouble of holding onto it himself. He leaned back into the couch cushions, seemingly trying to melt into them. He brought his fist to his lips and stifled a dry burp. He felt disgusting.
“I want to go to bed,” he said, his voice shaky.
“Of course, babe,” Will said gently. He stood and held the popcorn bowl precariously with both hands. “I’m just going to—throw this away and get you some water. Are you going to be okay by yourself for a little bit?”
Nico nodded tiredly, weakened by illness. He groaned as his stomach did a single nauseating flip and prayed that Will brought him a trash can to get him through the rest of the night.