vomiting bugs

anonymous asked:

imo, the fact that louis is stuck is why harry has this kind of leeway. or the other way around. no matter. it's just sad for the both of them, and esp louis whose team does not care about him, but just the stunts around him. in this lt001, i'll just blast the music, so the others would just be background noise.

Eh, I don’t agree with your first sentence. Harry has ALWAYS been able to play fast and loose with ambiguous quotes about his sexuality, gay innuendo, eccentric and feminine fashion choices, and so on…and actually, his allowance for that has increased over time. In direct contrast, Louis has been allowed to venture into those things less and less as the years have passed. I think the difference lies not in how their teams are playing off each other (I don’t think Harry is able to have more “gay” interviews because of Louis’ ironclad closet), but in how their own respective closets have always been different from one another. Harry was cemented as a womanizer so early on that he’s able to put minimal effort into reinforcing his closet because other people do the work for him. As we saw today, he can act gay as fuck and there will still be a huge defense squad claiming that he’s straight, claiming that he’s just joking around, claiming that he’s a huge advocate for the LGBTQ+ community and that’s all it is, claiming that he’s a true man in touch with his feminine side, claiming that he’s a straight man who’s not afraid to have fun and reject stereotypes, etc.

With Louis……it’s never ever been like that. He was super flamboyant and read as gay automatically to SO MANY PEOPLE back in the day, and over time, they’ve attempted to extinguish so many aspects of his true identity or shove them behind closed doors, and it continues to this day. People rave about so many of Harry’s photoshoots and fashion choices, and while I don’t think Louis would make the same choices in most cases because he’s his own person with his own distinct personality and fashion sense, when people try to make comparisons or act like Harry and Louis are so different because of the images they portray to the public, sometimes I just want to be like……do you guys really not realize that Louis would NEVER in a million years be allowed to do anything that veers even slightly from the hypermasculine, laddy, I’m-all-about-my-girl image they’ve been fine-tuning for years? Louis would NEVER be allowed to wear the clothing that Harry wore in Another Man or even Rolling Stone. Louis would NEVER be allowed to reject a model and get turned on by a man in an interview and then chuckle about it with the gay radio host and his stylist. His closet is so different from Harry’s, and it’s been that way for a long fucking time. And I’m not minimizing what Harry’s been through - his closet is less strict now, sure, but he’s been through some serious shit and what the media and fans do to him on a near daily basis with their het fantasies and linking him with every woman on the planet….it’s disgusting. But I feel like for a fandom that talks endlessly about how terrible their closets are, a lot of people don’t realize how much they’ve all bought the distinct images of both Harry and Louis in certain ways, despite the fact that both are at best, somewhat, and at worst, completely dictated by how different their closets are and always have been.

With Louis, it’s not just about the baby, or Eleanor. It’s everything. It’s years and years worth of publicly erasing his genuine self and making him little more than a shell of masculinity supported by his fake baby and fake girlfriend, with a career and family life and friendships and charity work and personality that always, always, always come second to everything straight about him. With the Observer, I had so much hope that this promo would show more of HIM, who he actually is, a dynamic and fascinating and lovely person, but then I see how things are going, and I look at how differently some things have gone for Harry, and then I realize that this is just going to be more of the same for Louis. And I don’t understand why and I don’t think I ever will, but it’s terrible to watch. It’s sad and so frustrating, but I won’t stop wanting better for him anytime soon.

Cute Sickfic Things

• I’m all for characters at their worst, but can we talk about Character A walking in on Character B wearing their sweater, eyes glassy and nose red

• When the Character B is wearing a hoodie pulled low over their face and hands in sweater paws, wiping their nose pathetically yet so adorably

• Character A walks in with a “Honey, I’m home” only to be greeted by Character B wrapped up like a burrito, blanket trailing forlornly on the floor

• Character B is so cold and feverish, and the loving Character A stays up all night cuddling with them, making herbal tea and giving medicine until they fall asleep

• When Character B is feeling extremely weak and reaches their arms out to Character A to please carry them because they don’t have the strength

• When Character B whines and Character A shoves them away until they realise that Character B never complains unless they’re sick and immediately begins to look after them

• Character B is feverish and can’t sleep, but Character A runs a cool hand through sweaty hair and hums a lullaby until they fall asleep

• Character B is just recovering from the vomiting bug and is so weak so Character A spoon feeds them food and helps them drink water

• Fevers make Character B hyper, so Character A gently traps them on their lap and hushes them until they fall asleep, back pressed to Character A’s chest

• Character A’s wonderfully cool fingers brushing against Character B’s sweaty, hot forehead and them leaning towards the cool hand

• Stubborn Character B finally finishes that essay and Character A wraps them in a blanket and drags them to the couch to care for them

delightfullyambiguous  asked:

Tough days on AAU equals foot rubs and head massages. Or just napping on the sofa and reheating day old takeout. And sometimes getting into pyjamas and bed at 8pm because that is the biggest luxury and it's nice to have someone there that gets it.

a million years later, here’s a fic! it’s short, fluffy, and exactly what you prompted, so there are no surprises!

it’s up to you to do the stitching


GOTG 2 was awesome. <3 <3 <3

I’m just gonna let my feelings fly. Major spoilery stuff is behind a cut.


Somebody said they headcanon Mantis as autistic.




Baby Groot trying to eat a bug and Rocket being all “what’s in your mouth? Spit it out!” cracked me up. (Groot was so autistic in this movie omg)

Baby Groot puking green stuff was gross and funny. He pukes just like human babies do– with a smile. lmfaoooo!

Drax and his nipples. lmao. (Drax was so autistic in this movie.)


Lots of cute stuff, holy shit. So much cute.

I almost died of cute.




Mantis sensing Drax when he’s missing his daughter and crying, omg. She is such a sweet character. (And totally autistic, suck it NT’s.)

Drax was calling Mantis ugly all through the movie but I think he was trying to mimic the dynamic Quill has when he’s insulting the hell out of Rocket. It’s such a typical example of how an autistic person tries to mimic the nuances of a group and failing and getting treated like crap instead. But Mantis picks up on the truth and appears to recognize that Drax isn’t saying mean things to be mean, he’s trying to be funny. (It just comes off real bad at first.)

DRAX ASKING EGO STRAIGHT UP IF HE HAS A PENIS XD!!! That srsly made me LMAO and so was everyone else in the theater!

…….geez XD……


SHIRTLESS YONDU!!!! (Yes he is blue alllll over.)

Yondu saying he was being funny when he told Quill he was going to eat him.

Yondu calling Groot a twig.


Arrow badassery. So much arrow badassery.

“I don’t fly it with my head, I fly it with my heart!”


The Hoff…lmao srsly 

Rocket swearing all over the place. Gee, I wonder where Groot learned it.



Rocket showing he can physically fight!!!


Fleetwood Mac music, YESSSS.

Yondu being able to pick Rocket’s tough guy act apart because they have similar backgrounds and are a lot alike. OMG.



Nebula, holy shit she has gone through hell


Sisters. SISTERS.

“It’s not ripe!” lmao




But oh man…

oh MAN…

* * * Major spoilers, so cutting it here. * * *

Keep reading

Soulmate Wonwoo

Part of the Seventeen Soulmate Series

Everyone has some sense of tangible connection to their soulmate. No matter how far away you are, they become a physical mirror through which your body experiences the world- your life a string tied with their own.

It’s a very abstract thing which even the greatest minds of the modern age find hard to define. All anyone really knows is that bound soulmates have some sort of bodily connection which seems to provide indicators of well-being and health. When one person is hurt or sick, the other feels an echo of the pain. When one person gets close to death, the other loses grip on their senses. If one person dies, well, the other will experience indescribable pain and then never be the same again…

But when soulmates are together, especially in physical contact with one another, the touch somehow provides healing. Not complete, but enough to make a difference.

Scientists link it back to all sorts of things- the evolutionary benefits of having a connection to your perfectly matched life partner and being able to monitor their survival even from a distance, and to help with it when close. The more spiritual among the population would call it a divine providence- something that gives you a soul deep connection to your destined other half. 

And those who are simply romantic minded? Well, they just seek comfort in the fact that they can feel the presence of their soulmate in every breath and beat of the heart. 

Keep reading

its-a-goddamn-heartbreak  asked:

Cain gets an awful tummy bug, like even water just comes straight back up, and he can't stop dry heaving and Damian's at a complete loss for what to do

A/N: This fic has been coming for a looooong time! It is going to be the first of a three part trilogy which is all about the period of time when Cain got three stomach bugs in very quick succession… This is time number one! @its-a-goddamn-heartbreak​ you are the inspiration for this series, and I’m forever thankful for your input! Thank you so so much! I hope you enjoy it! 😊💜 

An uncomfortable knot had been in Cain’s chest from the moment he woke up; an unsettled burgeoning that made Cain feel like his heart was having to pound harder and his lungs were expanding wider to supply the rest of his body with what he needed to simply be awake. He couldn’t pinpoint what exactly it was that was causing the presence of the tight lump, so he attempted to ignore it. When it was still present midway through the afternoon, he began to worry slightly more about what was causing it.

There was a running joke among the McLellan boys that they had all been born with some kind of sixth sense – a morphic field that bound them together in such a way that they were in tune with one another even when not geographically close. Cain found it difficult to explain to people what he meant without sounding entirely mad – or that he was claiming that they could read minds. His mum said it simply came from being the kind of close family they were. Whatever the reason, Cain began to wonder if what he was feeling was that niggling sensation that he should check on his brothers to make sure they were all okay.

Eden was his first port of call – being at university himself, something could have been going on without anyone else knowing. Eden had sounded a little short when he answered the phone, and told Cain that everything was fine in a rather breathless voice. Cain tried to be sensitive about asking him, but Eden cut him off short.

“Cain, stop dicking around and ask what you want to know,” Eden said, and from down the phone he heard a giggle and Jude’s voice saying ‘dicking’, then twigged the reason for Eden’s breathlessness and stammered something about calling back later and hung up. That mental image wasn’t one he particularly wanted embedded in his mind!

He phoned home next and got his mum, and established that everything was fine at home, absolutely nothing of concern going on with them, Cain hung up the phone still feeling a little confused.

With his afternoon lecture cancelled as the lecturer was off sick, Cain should have been using the free time to get ahead on some of his assignments, but he simply couldn’t settle. When he gave up trying to plan out the structural necessities of a specific building, he ended up doodling on an idea that Jesse had been talking about for a tattoo, but he was finding that even that wasn’t working out. His room felt rather cold – he knew the weather outside was beginning its decline into winter – but he didn’t feel like their flat should be this cold yet. Goosebumps erupted up his arms, even though he was already wearing a jumper, but when he touched his fingers to his cheek they were warm. This chill and his lack of concentration made him a little worried – why wasn’t his brain cooperating with what he wanted to do? Perhaps he was coming down with something…

His head normally felt a bit stuffy and unresponsive at the beginning of a cold, and his lecturer was ill – what were the chances that Cain had picked up whatever he had? High, Cain thought to himself. He tended to pick up practically everything that went round, particularly if he’d been extra busy and neglected to look after those essential things such as enough sleep, correct nutrition and hydration. He was pretty sure he was in alright condition just now, but thinking too hard about it made his head hurt…

Cain knew that Jesse had arrived back before he even said anything; the clatter of the skateboard in the hallway was enough to announce his presence.  He was just about to go and greet his boyfriend when his bedroom door burst open and Jesse practically flew in – pink cheeked and grinning.

“I did it!” He exclaimed, his hands extending and gripping Cain into a tight hug. “I actually did it! I landed a nightmare flip!” Jesse pulled back from Cain, still gripping at his upper arms and beaming.

“That’s awesome!” Cain said, trying to inject a rush of enthusiasm into his voice, but not managing as successfully as he would have liked. He knew Jesse had been working on this trick for ages, and the number of scrapes on Jesse’s back he had cleaned grit out of were only testament to it. “Well done!”

“Are you alright?” Jesse asked, the grin on his face faltering slightly as he looked into Cain’s, and spotted equally rosy cheeks as him – but Cain hadn’t been skating for an hour and a half. “You’re a bit peaky.”

“I – well…” Cain sighed, he wasn’t sure how to reply. He definitely didn’t feel quite right, but he couldn’t define how he didn’t.  “I just feel a bit weird.”

“Did you not go to class?” Jesse asked, looking at Cain’s desk which was spread with work.

“It was cancelled,” Cain explained, “lecturer’s ill.”

“Ill how?” Jesse asked, eyeing Cain up and down.

“I dunno,” Cain shrugged, “I just got the text to say it was cancelled cause he was ill.”

“Was this the same lecturer that you had a tutorial with yesterday?” Jesse pressed further, and that realisation dawned on Cain at exactly the same moment.

“Yeah…” He murmured.

“How do you feel weird?” Jesse asked, pressing his hand suddenly to Cain’s face. “Maybe I should get Damian, he’d know better…”

“It’s nothing really,” Cain pulled away from his hand, feeling like Jesse was overreacting. “I’m just a bit cold and lethargic… I’m probably just getting a cold.”

“You’re cold?” Jesse said, and his face was creased with a frown.

“Yeah,” Cain agreed, beginning to feel a slight niggle in his chest at how Jesse was reacting.

“Right, I’m getting Damian to have a look at you,” Jesse had grabbed Cain’s hand and began pulling him out of his room.

“Jesse!” Cain started to protest, but Jesse had already dragged him out into the hallway and across to Damian’s door and knocked on it. “I really don’t need-” Cain had started, but Damian’s door had already opened.

“Hey,” he said, looking a little bleary eyed; Cain instantly felt bad as he knew Damian had been on a night placement and was probably exhausted and didn’t need this silly interruption.

“Can you take a look at Cain?” Jesse asked abruptly, as Damian’s eyes flicked between the two of them. “He’s been feeling lousy all day but not actually said anything.”

“I’ve not – he’s exaggerating Damian,” Cain tried to protest, but Damian had already gone back into his room to retrieve his first aid box.

“If it’s an exaggeration then it won’t matter if I check your temperature, will it?” Damian retorted, knowing that Cain had no argument against this. Meekly Cain followed behind Damian through to their kitchen where he pulled out a chair.

“Sit.” Cain did as he was told, and Damian placed his box on the table.

“His lecturer is ill as well, so…” Jesse informed Damian, who was eyeing Cain up and down with a frown on his face.

“You are a bit peaky,” Damian commented, rummaging to find his thermometer.

“That’s what I said!” Jesse agreed, he was hovering behind Damian to try and not get in his way.

Cain couldn’t tell whether it was because the two of them were fussing over him, but he was feeling worse now. He was shivering where he sat, and trying not to let Damian feel it as he poked the thermometer into Cain’s ear. It beeped and Damian withdrew it and tutted.

“38.8,” Damian announced, holding the thermometer up for Cain to see. “You’ve got a fever.”

“I… well…” Cain began, but there was no way to refute the numbers on the dial, so he gave up.

“What are your other symptoms?” Damian asked, placing his thermometer down.

“I don’t know,” Cain answered vaguely. “I just feel a bit bleh – like I’m getting a cold..”

“Rest, food, and fluids, alright?” Damian advised, looking more at Jesse than Cain.

“But I’ve got stuff to do!” Cain protested, but both of them scowled.

“Rest now before it develops into anything nasty!” Damian said firmly. “Jesse, you make sure he gets some sleep, alright?”

“Yes, can do!” Jesse nodded rather enthusiastically, and Cain knew there was absolutely nothing he could do. Jesse steered him forcibly through from the kitchen back into his bedroom. “Bed,” he said insistently as the door swung shut behind them.

“Is that a proposition?” Cain joked, but even his voice was beginning to sound weary; he perched on the edge of the bed and felt himself sag as though the weight of everything was suddenly dragging him down.

“If you so wish,” Jesse kicked his shoes off and climbed onto the bed next to Cain, pulling him backwards so he was lying down.

“No, I…” Cain tried wiggle free from Jesse. “I don’t want you to get ill if I do have a cold.”

“I don’t care about that Cain!” Jesse wrapped his arms around Cain’s chest, slipping his hands under Cain’s jumper so he was nestled close to him like a big spoon. “Just relax.” Cain was already uncurling, the pressure of Jesse against him acted like some kind of anaesthetic; before he could even say anything further he felt himself slipping into sleep.

When Cain came to, there was still a pressure on his chest and abdomen but the coolness of his back told him instantly that Jesse was no longer behind him. The pressure in his stomach was almost unbearable, and he moved his hands underneath his jumper to feel the bloated flesh. As he put both hands on his stomach it let out a burble, and Cain bit back a nauseous hiccup that rose up his chest. He didn’t move on the bed, but the warm stickiness and rolling of his stomach instantly notified him that whatever was making him feel lousy had just gone to the next level – and it clearly wasn’t just a simple cold. He curled in on himself, putting both arms around his midriff in the hope the discomfort might just bubble away.

The door to his bedroom opened slowly, it was just in Cain’s line of sight where he was curled, and he saw Jesse backing tentatively into the room, carrying a tray. Once he had laid it down, he turned round and saw Cain’s eyes were open.

“You’re awake?” Jesse said quietly, perching on the edge of the bed and stroking a gentle hand across Cain’s forehead.

“Yeah,” Cain murmured, but opening his mouth to speak was harder than he’d anticipated.

“You’ve had a good five hours sleep,” Jesse told him, and Cain enjoyed his cool fingers against his skin.

“I have?” Cain asked, unsure at how he could still feel so awful if he’d had so much sleep.

“Yeah…” Jesse looked down, tracing a gentle finger along Cain’s brow. “And while you were sleeping your tummy started making hungry rumbly noises, so I made you some soup.”

“How did you manage that?” Cain asked forcing himself to sit upright and trying not to let on that the rumbly noises in his stomach weren’t hungry ones at all, but as he sat up he felt a burn where the uncomfortable knot had been earlier.

“I phoned my mum,” Jesse’s cheeks went a little pink as he lowered the tray onto Cain’s lap. “She told me chicken soup is the best thing to make.”

“You made chicken soup for me?” Cain said, staring up at his dedicated vegetarian boyfriend and then back down at the soup. His eyes stung at the back, and he knew there was no way he could refuse it now.

“I just want you to feel better,” Jesse explained, “and Damian did say rest, fluid and foods – so I’m keeping you right.”

“Thanks,” Cain picked up the spoon from the tray, but already the close proximity of the soup was causing the muscles in his abdomen to make peculiar little jerking motions that he couldn’t control. He forced himself to take a small mouthful and almost instantly acid was present at the back of his mouth. Swallowing fiercely, he was pleased that Jesse hadn’t seemed to notice that momentary battle. He took another spoonful, ignoring the gurgling sensation that had arisen simply from the first mouthful. When he opened his mouth to take a further sip, a bubble of a burp began to rise up in his chest and he clamped it shut quickly. He sat for a few seconds, not sure what to do, but then his stomach squeezed and he felt liquid rise in his throat.

“Can you move the tray please?” He forced out, hearing the tremble in his voice.

“What?” Jesse said surprised, but Cain was bordering on the edge of pushing the covers back and not caring about the mess.

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” he clamped his hand over his mouth just as a strong heave burst out of him. “Hmmmrrrr!”

“Fuck,” Jesse swore, grabbing the tray and depositing it haphazardly on the desk as Cain bolted out of bed. His hand was shaking so hard he nearly couldn’t grip the door handle to get out, but as soon as he did he fled to the nearest of their bathrooms, with Jesse hot on his heels.

Brrrkkk!” Cain had stopped abruptly in the door to the bathroom, doubling forward with a fierce retch. Jesse saw liquid dripping through Cain’s fingers, and then he staggered to the toilet and fell in front of it. “Bbbbrrrruuuaaalllcccch!” Jesse heard the rush of liquid flowing from Cain’s throat and then the splash of it pouring into the bowl.

“I’m sorry,” Jesse mumbled, standing right behind Cain and placing a hand onto his back.

Huuuaaaarrrccccchhh!” Cain leant his head forward until it was nearly resting on the far rim of the toilet seat, and Jesse felt the muscles in his back flutter as he ejected another wave of puke. “Huuurrrr… Huuuuuurrrrr!” Jesse winced at the sound of the retches forcing up Cain’s throat.

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered again as Cain panted briefly and then aborted another heave.

Baaaahuuuuurrrp!” A belch rumbled up from deep inside Cain and brought with it a little splash of acid which trickled over Cain’s chin as he closed his eyes. Jesse could see the chalk white colour of Cain’s skin, and was alarmed by how floppy and unresponsive Cain was. 

“Cain?” He put his fingers gently to Cain’s cheek, it was saturated with slick sweat. “Talk to me love, please?” 

Mmmmmnnn…” Cain let out a weak groan, not moving his head or opening his eyes. “Brrruuuaaarrllllfff!” More bile spilled from Cain’s lips, and Jesse grabbed some toilet roll and mopped it off his chin.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Jesse tried to keep calm, but he was panicking internally.

“Hurts…” Cain whispered weakly. “Hrrrrk!” He gagged but nothing came up. “Give me – a sec…”

“Take as long as you need,” Jesse encouraged, rubbing his hand in between Cain’s broad shoulder blades. “It’s fine…”

Braaaapp!” Cain belched emptily, then rubbed his own hand across his chest and opening his eyes slowly, his eyes were glazed over with a fever. “ ‘m not done yet… Hrrrk!” Despite his statement, his retches were obviously dry.

“I think you are…” Jesse said eventually after a few more minutes of Cain dry heaving. “I think it would be good to get you back to bed.” He knelt down and slipped his arm around Cain’s waist, holding tighter than he would normally, and he could feel Cain’s abdominal muscles tensing under his touch. He supported Cain up onto his feet, and then almost dragged him along out of the bathroom and into his bedroom.

Every thirty seconds or so Cain gagged, but he was thoroughly empty. He practically collapsed onto the bed, his chest still rising and falling dramatically as the effort of moving seemed to have drained any remaining energy from him.

Baaarruuulp!”  Cain belched, his whole body rocking on the bed as he heaved again. “Uuuuurrrrrnnnngggh….” Cain’s hand was held protectively to his abdomen, and he screwed up his face.

“You’re going to be okay,” Jesse said, putting his hand gently onto Cain’s forehead and feeling the burning heat radiating from him.

“I – uuurghh – oh…” Cain struggled, his throat sounding rough and raw as he mumbled. “Hurts.” Was the only legible word that Cain could get out.

“I know, I know…” Jesse’s heart was pounding in his chest as he watched Cain writing on the bed. “Breathe with me, listen – in… and out…” Jesse encouraged, demonstrating the breathing pattern that he wanted; Cain took a sharp breath in. “In, that’s it… and out…” Jesse moved his hand onto Cain’s collarbone, and massaged his skin.

“Nice…” Cain mumbled, he was still following the breathing that Jesse had instructed him in. “Sorry…”

“No, no, you just rest…” Jesse reprimanded, hoping that Cain would be able to sleep for a bit. “Don’t talk.” Cain had relaxed into the bed and his breathing slowed gradually until Jesse knew that he had fallen asleep. 

Jesse could hear the groaning and gurgling issuing from Cain’s stomach, even as he slept; and he could tell that it was still hurting by the way he was curled onto his side with one arm wrapped protectively around his midriff. Every so often Jesse checked Cain’s temperature, concerned by how Cain’s clothes appeared to be drenched in sweat. Jesse was worried – Cain seemed to be very unwell, this seemed more than an ordinary bug – if only by the height of his fever.

Nnngggrrrr…’ The low rumble from Cain’s gut was loud and Jesse looked across at his boyfriend.

Hiigggkrrr!” Cain had been awoken from his slumber by a retch that burbled up from the depths of his stomach. He shot upright on the bed, clamping both hands across his mouth as his whole body shook with gags. Jesse had sprung to his feet, grabbing the bin and holding it under Cain’s chin. A small trickle of bile fell from Cain’s mouth into the bin, and Jesse put his hand onto Cain’s back – able to feel him jerking fiercely. “Kkkrrrruuuuucccch!” Cain retched repeatedly, bringing up nothing; he clamped one of his hands onto Jesse’s wrist.

“It’s alright,” Jesse reassured, but Cain was unable to stop the motion of the heaves, despite having nothing left in his body left to bring up.

Brrruuuukk!” Cain burped, it grated up his throat.

“Oh Cain,” Jesse mumbled, grabbing the water bottle that he’d brought through for Cain and bringing it up to Cain’s lips. “Come on, have some water and your stomach might not hurt so much,” Jesse raised the bottle and Cain took a few sips. “After a few drinks, he leant back into his bed, only semi-conscious and panting. Jesse removed the bin and rested his hand onto Cain’s shoulder, while Cain closed his eyes – his skin very pale against the bed covers.

“Jesse…” Cain groaned, his voice crackling. “I feel sick still…” His own hand was back onto his stomach and he looked like he was fighting against a renewed urge to heave.

“Just take deep breaths, and try to relax,” Jesse encouraged, stroking his fingers across Cain’s forehead, which was sticky. Cain’s shoulders pushed back to try and relax, but when this did happen Jesse could see through the fabric of Cain’s shirt that his stomach muscles were moving violently enough to be able to be seen.

Hhhhbbbbmmm…” Cain’s mouth was clamped shut as one of these stomach contractions forced a heave up his throat. His eyes snapped open and he sat up again, motioning for the bin to be given to him. Jesse snatched it once more and handed it to Cain, who was holding his hands out for it, his cheeks bulging out of his face. “Buuuueeeerrrrllll!” The water that Cain had drunk gushed back up from his belly and into the bin. “Oh God…” Cain moaned, his knuckles gripping white on the rim of the rubbish bin.

“Jeez Cain,” Jesse felt rather helpless as Cain’s upset stomach appeared unwilling to keep anything down. “You need to take another little sip of water.”

“No…” Cain refused, turning his head away from the bottle that Jesse was holding up. “I won’t keep it down…” He mumbled sadly, one of his hands rubbing across his midriff.

“You need to drink Cain,” Jesse stressed, his heart tearing as Cain looked so upset. “Just a tiny bit, you don’t want to get dehydrated…”

“It won’t stay down…” He moaned, he massaged at his stomach, clearly in a great deal of pain.

“Just try, for me… please?” Jesse begged, holding the bottle up insistently. “A little sip, then rest.” Very tentatively Cain took a miniscule sip and then lay down. “Thank you.” Cain shook his head a little as he tried to get into a comfortable position; he was still burning hot and Jesse was worried about the heat coming from him. “I’ll be back in a moment,” Jesse assured, leaving Cain’s bedside and going out into the hallway.

He hadn’t realised how late it was, the light was off and the rest of the flat was in silence. He rummaged in the cupboard where their towels were dried until he found a flannel, which he dampened with cool water.

On returning he found Cain leaning over the edge of his bed retching into the bin.

“I… couldn’t…” Cain struggled, resting back onto his bed.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jesse said, although his heart sprang into his throat. “Lie back.” Cain did so, and Jesse laid the flannel onto his forehead; Cain let out a low hissing sound as it pressed into his skin.

Mmmm… that’s nice,” Cain mumbled.

“Good,” Jesse was pleased that he was helping in any way. “You rest now and we’ll see if some water will stay down in a little while.”

All Jesse could do was hope – glancing at the clock he saw it was half past three. He tried to curl up onto the computer chair and rest, but he jerked awake every few minutes, worried that something was going to happen. But all that did happen was Cain fell asleep.

Hrrrrch!” Jesse was woken by a grating noise and as he uncurled, his legs stiff and painful from their awkward position in the chair, he could see Cain retching over the edge of the bed again – his face alarmingly white. Glancing at the alarm clock, which heralded 6am; Jesse was so tired and stiff that he almost couldn’t move. “Hiiikkkkkcchhhkkkkkccchhh!” 

“Oh Cain!” Jesse managed to get himself out of the chair and over to Cain’s bedside; Cain burped queasily as he dangled limply over the side. “You are really not well, are you?” Cain was unable to reply.

Brrruuuuuuup!” Cain’s face had screwed up, and tears squeezed out from his eyes.

“Oh no! Don’t cry!” Jesse impeached, feeling utterly distraught about this situation; Cain’s gurgling retching heaves seemed never-ending and Jesse could feel his heart racing as he began to panic. “You’re going to be okay! Just hold on, I’m going to get Damian.”

Throwing caution to the wind Jesse tore across their hallway and began knocking hard on Damian’s door. After a few seconds, the door opened.

“Jesse?” Damian asked, clearly uncertain by the darkness of the hallway. “What is it?”

“It’s Cain…” Jesse said quickly, struggling not to reach out and grab Dramian and drag him across to Cain’s room. But as soon as Jesse spoke, Damian’s body language changed and he let the door swing shut behind him.

“What’s wrong?” Damian’s voice was strained.

“He’s been throwing up all night,” Jesse explained, pushing open the door and revealing Cain clinging to the edge of his bed, almost about to topple out.

“Oh Cain!” Damian rushed over to him and practically manhandled him back into bed. “Oh lord, look at the state of you!” Cain had groaned as Damian rolled him back; his face was pale but when Damian touched it, it was not sweaty or clammy, but dry.

“I still… more to come up…” Cain replied, very weakly trying to roll back onto his side. Jesse stood behind Damian, too worried to know how to react.

“I don’t think so,” Damian told him, stroking his hand across Cain’s cheek. “I think you’re totally dehydrated, and that’s making you feel worse,” Damian explained, watching in concern as Cain gagged again.

Uuuurrrgggnnnn…” Cain moaned, his hands were trembling as he wrapped both of them around his abdomen.

“Sorry, I should have done something earlier…” Jesse said, upset at how panicked that Damian was now appearing.

“No, don’t worry…” Damian turned around and grabbed hold of Jesse’s arm. “Knowing Cain, he probably refused to drink water…” Jesse nodded, slightly more relieved that Damian acknowledged his attempts.

“Can’t…” Cain muttered weakly.

“Right, we’re gonna get liquid into you somehow,” Damian turned around to Jesse, picking up the flannel that had fallen on the bed and handed it to Jesse. “Can you re-dampen this? And get a fresh glass of water?”

“Of course,” Jesse immediately went to do these tasks and when he returned Damian had gotten his first aid kit, and was unpacking what looked like a syringe. “Here!”

“Great,” Damian took the flannel and put it onto Cain’s forehead again. “Right Cain, you need to open your mouth a little bit.” Damian had taken a kid’s measuring syringe and drawn up into it.

“No…” Cain’s eyes were closed, but he appeared so weak that his protestation was ignored.

“Yes Cain,” Damian said firmly, putting his hand up to Cain’s chin. “It’s this or I take you to A&E?”

“What are you going to do?” Jesse questioned, perching on the edge of the bed near Cain’s feet.

“I’m going to give him ten millilitres of water, then wait five minutes, then another ten… and I’ll keep going until he’s more hydrated.” Damian explained.

 “Oh…” Jesse watched as Damian brought the syringe up to Cain’s mouth and slowly injected the plunger; Jesse watched Cain’s adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed. Damian placed the syringe down and turned to look up at Jesse.

“Why don’t you get some rest?” Damian suggested. “You look exhausted.”

“I don’t want to leave Cain,” Jesse shook his head.

“Are you feeling alright?” Damian pressed further. “If you’ve been around Cain, there’s a chance you might get this.”

“I’m fine,” Jesse replied, wanting Damian’s full attention to be on Cain.

“You might feel it now, but you should get some rest too,” Damian told him. “Lie down, go on… I’m just going to be giving Cain water every couple of minutes, I won’t leave him alone.”

“I just want to be here…” Jesse felt tears burning in the back of his eyes, stinging hot as he felt like Damian was chastising him.

“Jesse…” Cain’s voice crackled from the bed, he hadn’t opened his eyes or moved at all but Jesse could sense what he was meaning. 

“I’m here…” Jesse reassured, tugging off his hoodie and crossing round to the other side of the bed and climbed in. Being careful not to jostle Cain, he lay relatively close to him, able to feel the heat radiating off him.

“Just another bit of water,” Jesse heard Damian’s voice mutter lowly. He heard Cain slowly accepting the little amount of water and swallowing. “That’s it… well done.”

Jesse’s protective urges wanted him to stay awake – to ensure that Cain was going to be okay, but he was already sagging into the mattress with his eyes struggling to remain open. He knew Damian would look after him, and what else could he do but worry? He placed his palm tenderly onto Cain’s back, as though checking he was still breathing; and slipped off to sleep with Damian muttering soothingly in the background.

datbellytho  asked:

Keith and Lance have an eating contest. Resulting in sicky burpy pouty Keith and Shiro having to take care of him please? I've never done an ask before like this, sorry, I just love your work and this is kinda a dream.. I'm sorry if this bugs you

anon asked: can u hit us with some bloated, burpy keith pls? thanks so much for doing voltron, ilu” - hope you guys don’t mind if I combine these into a ficlet. 

Keith shifted, breaking the silence as his stomach emitted another queasy gurgle.

Shiro’s fingers paused, his forefinger still tangled in a lock of the dark hair.

“You know this is your own fault, right?”

Keith moaned, hiding his face against Shiro’s thigh. The older boy chuckled and resumed the head massage.

“Fuck,” Keith growled. “I know. I’m an idiot, all right?”

“You could’ve said no,” Shiro helpfully pointed out, amused.

Keith reached down between where his body was pressed against the bed and palmed his stomach. A burp jolted up into the back of his throat and he hurriedly clamped his mouth shut.

“You know Lance,” Keith mumbled bitterly. “He doesn’t take no for an answer. He just annoys the shit out of you until you can’t think about anything except shutting him up and damn the consequences.”

“It’s a unique talent,” Shiro agreed, grin replaced by a frown when Keith made a small choking noise. “You all right down there?”

Shiro stopped scrolling through the pad and glanced down at the boy currently using his lap as a pillow. He heard Keith swallow, obviously struggling against his body’s urge to relieve some of the discomfort.

Ugh,” Keith moaned, pressing his face harder against Shiro’s leg. His words were muffled. “I hope Lance is having the worst time.”

Shiro pet a wild strand of hair back into place, then moved down to rub gently against Keith’s nape.

“I hope he spends all night just…suffering, on the toilet.”

“Well, if he ate anything even close to the amount you shoveled down, he’s gonna be feeling it,” Shiro confirmed; the grin was back.

Keith mumbled something else but Shiro couldn’t understand him beyond the blockade of fabric.

“Try again?”

Keith pushed up on his elbows and blinked down at Shiro’s lap, “I’m glad you think this is funny.” He swallowed carefully and concentrated on taking a few deep breaths.

“I was never one to stand in the way of entropy,” Shiro teased, twining his fingers back up through Keith’s hair.

Keith shivered slightly and closed his eyes, sighing, “I thought you were supposed to be the voice of reason. Stop us from doing stupid shit like - ulp - eating ourselves stupid just to prove a point.” His stomach let out another angry grumble at the memory.

What had started as a joke had quickly escalated into a heated battle for supremacy. Keith couldn’t remember over what, exactly. But he and Lance had apparently deemed it worthy enough to stuff themselves with the spongy green crap. The off-putting color should have been Keith’s first cue to bow out. Instead he’d plowed mindlessly through three gigantic bowls until he heard Lance gagging and calling for a truce.

“What was the point of this again?” Shiro’s fondness teetered between mild condescension and genuine curiosity.

“Bragging rights,” Keith gave a weak hiccup. “And I won. So Lance can suck it.”

Shiro heaved a long-suffering sigh, resisting the urge to shake his head. This probably wasn’t the time for a lecture. He’d save it for when the two idiots weren’t so green around the gills. He suspected Lance wasn’t fairing any better and hoped, at the very least, that he’d sought refuge with Hunk.

“He certainly riled you up,” Shiro mused. “Any particular reason it was so easy, tonight?”

“He’s a jackass?” Keith muttered as if it were the obvious answer.

“Be nice,” Shiro flicked the back of Keith’s head.

“Ow! - hic - oh,” Keith reached up to rub the sore spot, pausing midway as a much wetter hiccup jumped into his chest.

“Keith?” Shiro apologized by rubbing his thumb over Keith’s knuckles.

“Shit,” Keith’s cheeks inflated as something gurgled up. It took a few hard swallows to push it back down.

“Quit holding them in,” Shiro frowned. “It’ll only make your stomach feel worse.”

Keith shook is head and rocked forward, suppressing another rumbling belch. He cupped a hand over his mouth just in time to let it out.

Oh,” he groaned, most of the color draining from his face. “I don’t feel good.”

“I know,” Shiro winced sympathetically as he slid his hand further down to Keith’s upset belly. He could feel the contents churning and sloshing beneath his palm as he began kneading gentle circles over the heated skin.

“Sh-Shiro,” Keith panted weakly, suddenly pushing up from his lap and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He leaned forward, perched over the edge while his fingers dug into his knees. Shiro watched the boy’s throat work convulsively as a shudder ran through is muscles.

“Hey,” Shiro soothed, scooting up behind him. He reached out to place a hand against Keith’s back.

“Think I’m — ‘m gonna throw up,” Keith slurred, voice thick with nausea.

“Easy,” Shiro coached, looping his natural arm around Keith’s chest. “Take a few breaths through your nose. You’re all right.”

Keith tried to follow the instruction, but midway through his first shaky inhale, he choked. His shoulders rolled with a belching gag that sent him heaving into his hand.

“Okay, bathroom,” Shiro leapt off the mattress and tugged Keith upright, concern and the threat of a mess all over the bed making his voice sound a little harsher than he intended.

“Oh, no,” Keith gagged, swaying unsteadily as his stomach whined, protesting the abrupt movement. He shoved out of Shiro’s grasp and stumbled the few steps to the small bathroom. “Don’t come in here.”

Before he could say anything the door whooshed shut and Shiro was left standing outside. The harsh sounds of violent retching met his ears and he cringed, wanting desperately to make himself useful.

“Keith?” Shiro knocked softly on the door. No answer. “I’m gonna grab a few water packets, okay?”

A sharp burp followed by coughing and then, “Kill Lance for me while you’re at it.”

Shiro scratched the back of his head, trying to maintain his empathy for the situation.

“I’ll be right back.”

The idiocy he endured for this team…

I luckily screenshot every ask I receive in case my ask box deletes them. Here ya go! I decided to go with Yuuri for this once because I have a lot of other OC asks, and tbh I just love torturing that smol bean 💚💜

“I need to throw up…” Yuuri groans, resting his head on the railings of the boat with his hands in a white knuckled grip either side. He stares miserably at the dirty deck beneath him, trying to ignore the relentless churning of the waves below him which echo the sloshing nauseating movement in his stomach.

“Maybe you should sit down?” Viktor suggests, putting a hand on Yuuri’s back. He tries to help Yuuri upright but didn’t get very far before Yuuri groans and lets out an airy belch before leaning back against the railings.

“Feel too sick… can’t move…” he mutters miserably under his breath, shuddering with nausea.

“You poor thing…” Viktor comforts him, smoothing his black fringe off of his face. “Just try to breathe. How about I see if I can find you some motion sick pills in the shop? They must have some, you’re definitely not the first person to get seasick.”

Desperately trying to gain an ounce of control over his upset stomach, Yuuri wraps both hands around it groaning again, his face milk white with just a faint sickly green tinge beneath his cheekbones.

“I’ve been "seasick” since before we even left the dock…“ Yuuri mumbles miserably, not daring to look Viktor in the eye.

"Yuuri!” Viktor predictably exclaims.

“You mean you’ve been feeling sick all day?!” Viktor pouts. He does not look happy.

Yuuri grimaces and closes his eyes as another surge of sickness washes over him, before nodding hesitantly.

“My stomach’s felt weird all day… didn’t think it’d get this bad…” he hisses through obvious pain, doubling over and clutching his tummy harder again.

“Ohhh… I don’t feel very well…” he hiccups, looking increasingly queasy.

“Oh Yuuri… I wish you’d tell me these things before they get this bad! If I’d known I would never of suggested this boat ride- it can’t be helping. You need to be in bed, not standing leaning over the rails of a fishing trawler!”

Yuuri’s reaction to this is a wet belch which gurgles up from deep in the poor sick boy’s stomach, eliciting another sickly moan as his stomach flips and flops angrily inside him like a fish out of water.

The imagery of the fish and the sloshing water inside turns his stomach even more and he clamps a hand over his mouth with a sudden heave. He throws himself back over the rails and retches miserably.

“Oh my poor sweetheart…” Viktor soothes tenderly, rubbing the sick boy’s back. “Just let it out darling…”

“I can’t-throw up…” Yuuri stutters wretchedly, before heaving again.

“Probably because you haven’t hardly eaten all day…” Viktor points out, but the imagery of food is too much for Yuuri’s weak stomach and he groans again with a grating heave that sounds like Yuuri is trying to evacuate his internal organs as well as his stomach contents.

“Don’t- talk about food…” Yuuri whines, breathing heavily.

Viktor hates seeing Yuuri so pathetic and hurting like this. He has an idea.

He produces a water bottle from his bag and offers it to Yuuri who looks at Viktor like he’s gone mad.

“It’s just gonna come back up…” Yuuri says tiredly, but Viktor persists.

“Isn’t that the point?”

“But I don’t want to be sick!” Yuuri cries, tears springing to his eyes as his emotions overtake him. The poor thing is frightened, in pain and miserably sick and it’s all just too much.

“Oh Yuuri… I think you need to be…” Viktor says gently. “It might help your tummy feel better.”

Yuuri takes the water bottle reluctantly, uncapping it with shaking hands. He puts it to his mouth and swallows gingerly. Immediately his face bleaches even whiter, visibly draining of all remaining colour.

Viktor spots the warning signs and grabs the bottle back just as Yuuri is violently sick all over the desk beneath him. He heaves again, a thick wave of watery sick flowing from his mouth. Viktor quickly helps him stand up slightly more from his doubled over position so he is clinging to the boat railings and getting sick once more into the sea, rather than in the growing puddle around his feet.

“I don’t *hurrrlllppp* feel good…” Yuuri chokes out between heaves. More vomit spatters into the ocean below as Yuuri heaves wretchedly.

“You poor baby… your belly is really sick isn’t it?…” Viktor says sadly, rubbing his back as Yuuri throws up again, another chunkier wave of yesterday’s dinner making a sour reappearance.

“Urghhh…” Yuuri moans, holding his still nauseous belly tightly. He is trembling viciously.

“Let’s get you sitting down with a bucket, hey?” Viktor suggests, knowing that this is going to go on for a fair while yet, especially whilst they are still on the boat. The churning waves are certainly not helping his poorly stomach.

Sitting at a bench, Viktor places a black bucket on the floor, before slowly laying Yuuri down with his head in Viktor’s lap.

Yuuri moans and winces again at the pain in his stomach and Viktor places his hand over it, gently rubbing it underneath the boy’s thin shirt. He can feel how bad it is just by the churning beneath his palm.

“Oh, your poor tummy…” he soothes the sick boy, who hiccups queasily and sadly before muffling his face into Viktor’s body. “You’re really not well are you…”

“Ohhh… Viktor… my stomach feels bad…” Yuuri cries wretchedly convulsing with another empty gag.

“It’s ok, you’re gonna be fine…” Viktor murmurs. Yuuri undoubtably caught this bug from his last free skate where it had spread between most of the competitors. It is going to be be a horrible 24 hours, but Viktor will stay with his poorly boyfriend as long as it takes.

its-a-goddamn-heartbreak  asked:

"It's too hot. I may vomit." for Xander

A/N: I think it’s more than time enough for me to finally introduce a fic with some of the new guys, I’m sorry it’s taken me so long! I hope you enjoy this first foray into Gang 4! 😊

“Jesus Zubin!” Xander pulled his jumper over his head and dropped it on the end of Zubin’s bed. “Why do you keep this place like an actual sauna?”

“It’s not that warm!” Zubin laughed, sitting up from where he’d been lounging in his bed and watching as Xander fanned himself with his hand.

“You say that, but I’m melting!” Xander said, perching on the end of the bed.
“Lyle? What do you think?” Zubin asked.

“What?” From the corner where he was curled into the beanbag by the radiator, Lyle looked up from his book.

“Is it too warm in here?” Zubin repeated, and Lyle looked between the two of them.

“N-no?” He answered, biting his lip, worried he might be giving the wrong answer.

“See?” Zubin gestured to Lyle. “Two against one, you’re outnumbered!”

“Naw, but Lyle doesn’t count!” Xander objected.

“Why not?” Zubin folded his arms across his chest, looking unconvinced.

“Cause Lyle is always cold!” Xander justified, Lyle pushed his glasses further up his nose.

“I can’t help that…” Lyle muttered, adjusting the book in his lap.

“It’s still two against one,” Zubin insisted firmly.

“Fine…” Xander conceded, continuing to waft his hand in front of his face. Zubin had picked up the tennis ball from his bedside table and was throwing it into the air then catching it. “So what is this thing we’re going to tonight?” Xander asked.

“Seòras is playing in some kind of open mic night with some of the folk he met at Celtic soc,” Lyle answered, closing his book and laying it down onto Zubin’s floor. “We’ll have to get going if we’re gonna get there in time.” Lyle checked his watch, getting up from the beanbag.

“Calm down, we’ll have plenty time!” Zubin assured, grinning. “And besides, Pippa and Aaliyah aren’t here yet…”

“Yeah, they’ll be here soon enough,” Xander nodded; he’d come to realise through Zubin that reassurance was the best thing for Lyle when he was uncomfortable. A knock came on the door and it pushed open to reveal Pippa and Aaliyah.

“Speak of the devil!” Xander joked, indicating to the two girls, and Lyle smiled at him. “Alright Lyle, lead the way…”

The buzz could be heard along the street as Lyle led the rest of them towards the pub that Seòras would be playing in. It was quite a big thing for Lyle, his heart was pounding as he approached the front door; he fell back slightly, not wanting to be the first to walk in. 

“You alright?” Zubin asked gently, pausing for a second next to Lyle as Xander and the girls went inside.

“Yeah,” Lyle nodded, even though he felt like his throat was closing inside him, and he wished he’d brought his book with him so he could hide behind it if he needed to.

“Seòras is gonna be really pleased that you’ve come to support him,” Zubin continued, eyeing a group of boys over by the doorway who were sharing a cigarette.

“Yeah, I know,” Lyle nodded, it was just summoning up the courage to go in.

“Come on,” Zubin nodded his head towards the door. “Let’s go in together.”

“Okay,” Lyle agreed.

The pub was crowded and low lit, but even with that obstacle, Zubin and Lyle could see Xander over the head of the crowd. Standing by a table that the reset of them had commandeered, he waved across at Lyle and Zubin, who fought their way through, Lyle gripping the material of Zubin’s shirt, until they got to the table.

“I was just about to get some drinks,” Xander explained, allowing Lyle and Zubin to squeeze in to the bench behind the table. “Do you guys want anything?”

“Just grab me a beer please,” Zubin said, grinning up at Xander as he towered over them.

“Beer, okay. Lyle?” He turned to Lyle, who’s mind seemed to have jammed when forced into making a decision.

“Cider for Lyle?” Zubin suggested, and Lyle nodded appreciatively.

“Super, I’ll be back in a bit,” Xander nodded, and made his way in between a crowd of hipster guys who must be well into their twenties with the size of the beards they had. Lyle glanced around, he hadn’t expected this place to be quite so busy… Lyle felt a squeeze at his knee and looked at Zubin who was smiling, and Lyle knew he was trying to be reassuring.

Xander reappeared balancing five glasses in his hands, he dished them out to everyone and perched himself next to Zubin.

“Do we know when Seòras will be on?” He asked, Zubin shook his head as he took a sip from his beer.

“Soon, I think,” Lyle told him, noticing that Xander had a glass of clear liquid which seemed to be just lemonade, but perhaps Xander wouldn’t want the attention drawn on him.

The guy upfront announced the next act to the stage, and Lyle spotted the untidy mop of golden hair climbing on to the makeshift stage followed by another scraggy haired guy and two girls. Pippa and Aaliyah turned in their chairs to be better angled to see the stage, and they cheered enthusiastically. Seòras’ eyes raked over the crowd, lighting up as he spotted Lyle and the rest of them. Lyle waved, and some of the tight knot in his chest loosened as Seòras waved back.

They started up, the sound of Seòras’ flute like liquid silver that pierced over the talking in the pub. But even though Lyle knew he should be watching Seòras, his attention kept being drawn to Xander, sitting at the edge of the table. His hand wrapped and unwrapped convulsively around his glass, but he never took a drink. He didn’t look like he was enjoying himself, which was unusual as Xander was normally the life and soul of any party. Now he looked uncomfortable and small – like he’d shrunk into himself, and every so often he pressed his fingers to his face like he was checking for something.

After the second song, while everyone was cheering, Xander slipped out from the bench and headed towards the door without saying anything. Lyle followed his progress and saw him wobble a little as he neared the door, then Lyle’s attention was brought back to the band as those near the front of the stage were becoming more enthusiastic, dancing oddly to the fusion of celtic traditional and modern music. But they reached the end of that song too and Xander hadn’t reappeared. Zubin, who was halfway through his pint, hadn’t seemed to notice, but Lyle was getting that niggling feeling that someone wasn’t quite right.

Hoping that Seòras wouldn’t notice from the stage, Lyle slipped out round the back of the table and fought his way through the crowd, feeling a little uncomfortable at how close people were getting to him. The cool air guided him to the doorway where he had to fight through before he spotted Xander off to the side, leaning against the metal railing at the edge of the pavement with his head hung forward and his eyes shut. Lyle wondered if he was imagining it, but he was sure Xander looked paler than usual.

“Xander?” Lyle’s quiet voice barely cut through the noise from the pub behind; very carefully he reached out and tapped Xander’s elbow. Xander’s reaction was pronounced, he physically started and his eyes opened wide as he looked round like a rabbit caught in the headlights. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to give you a fright…” Lyle apologised, almost backing away at Xander’s sudden movement.

“Jeez Lyle, you shouldn’t sneak up on people!” Xander said, sounding a little irritated; he wiped his forehead with his hand and leant back on the railing, and now Lyle was positive that Xander was a funny colour.

“Sorry,” he muttered again, and casually leant on the railing next to him. “It was getting a bit much for me in there…” Lyle tried to make it sound like he was out there for himself rather than checking on Xander.

“Yeah, it’s really stuffy in there,” Xander commented, and although he tried to sound normal, there was a slightly forced tone to his voice. Lyle allowed a pause to hang between them, waiting to see if Xander said anything else, but the time stretched uncomfortably between them. Eventually Lyle convinced himself that he was going to have to say something, then Xander spoke abruptly.

“Aren’t you missing Seòras playing?” Xander asked, but he was staring out into the middle of the road.

“Yeah,” Lyle admitted honestly, he still felt like he didn’t know Xander incredibly well – but then Lyle never felt like he knew anyone well – and he wasn’t quite sure on how to just come out with his question.

“You should go back inside,” Xander advised quietly, pushing momentarily away from the rail.

“How about we go back in together?” Lyle suggested, but Xander shook his head.

“I don’t think I can go back in,” he answered, “you go in and I’ll wait till you’re all done.”

“Why can’t you go back in?” Lyle questioned further.

“It’s too hot…” Xander muttered, rubbing one of his hands across his chest and giving a small shake of his head, his face had paled further as he leant back onto the railing. “I may vomit…”

“I – what?” Lyle wasn’t used to Xander being so upfront, but then realised how bad Xander must be feeling as his chest gave a sharp jolt and his cheeks puffed out momentarily. “Oh right!” Lyle put his hand to Xander’s elbow and gently tried to steer him round so he was leaning squarely on the railings; Xander was a good foot taller than Lyle so it wasn’t the easiest action. He could hear Xander panting shakily as he tried to recompose himself.

“Take few deep breaths, in for four, hold for seven, and out for eight,” Lyle said calmly, reaching his hand up to try and rub in between Xander’s shoulder blades.

Hrrrrrbbbbllluuughhkk!!” Lyle felt the jerking motion through his hand, and saw Xander tense momentarily before a thick gush of sick poured from his mouth, splattering down on the railings and into the guttering.

“Goodness,” Lyle was a bit surprised at the rapidity of the event, but he rallied quickly and rubbed his hand across Xander’s back.

Brrruuuhuuulllkkrrkk!” A harsh, gargling retch brought up a further copious wave of puke, and Lyle could hear the jeering response of the guys who’d been standing smoking. Xander’s grip slackened on the metal rail, and Lyle’s arm convulsively tightened around Xander’s waist as he went slightly limp.

“Oh God, right, let’s get you sat down,” Lyle guided him back and angled him so he sat on the small wooden bench in front of the pub which had been vacated moments earlier by people who didn’t want to get spewed on.

Brrrl-h’buuuuurrrrk!” Xander hacked up a thick amount of vomit which fell across the pavement.

“Oh Xander,” Lyle soothed as Xander took a great inhale of breath and bumped down onto the low bench. Xander looked like a giant in comparison to Lyle, though as he lowered his head down to his knees Lyle thought he’d never seen him look so small.

Bruuu- huuurrrp!” Xander belched and a mouthful of acid hit the ground in between his feet. “Real’-don’ feel good…”

“I can tell,” Lyle said, and a wave of panic came over him. What should he do? Should he leave Xander sitting here to go and get Zubin? Although he really didn’t want to leave Xander alone in this state. Zubin wasn’t likely to hear his phone in the hubbub of the pub, and that was even if he got signal in the first place. He ground his teeth as he tried to think; but he really couldn’t keep Xander like this when he was this unwell. He could ask one of the smokers to go and find Zubin for him, but that meant he needed to ask – and he abhorred talking to people that he didn’t know in any context.

Brrrrlllkkuuuurrrgggh!” Xander pitched forward again and another wave of sick coated the ground.

“Alright, alright…” Lyle kept rubbing circles into Xander’s broad back. “I’m thinking…” Lyle was trying to steel himself to asking one of the few people still outside when he was startled by the appearance of a member of pub staff next to the bench.

“Everything alright?” He asked, he was holding a pint of water; Lyle surveyed his face and tried to convince himself that this was one of the good guys. “Your mate had a bit too much, has he?” He chuckled. “Don’t worry, it’s happened to us all – try get this down him.” He handed the pint glass to Lyle, who sat slightly stunned until the guy began to turn away.

“Could you do me a favour?” Lyle’s voice was stronger than he’d anticipated, and the guy paused.

“Aye, I can try…” He agreed, then eyed Xander up warily then added: “Though if you want me to phone a taxi, I’m no sure anyone’ll take him…”

“No,” Lyle shook his head. “There’s a guy inside, right down the front – Arab looking, he’ll be sitting with a girl wearing a hijab, he’s called Zubin – any chance you could ask him to come out?”

“I’ll gie it a go, aye,” he nodded, then disappeared back inside the pub. Lyle turned his attention back to Xander, who was heaving roughly, a dribble of spit dangling from his lips.

“Oh God Xander,” Lyle muttered, realising he didn’t have anything to mop him up with. “Here, try and take a wee sip of this…” He held up the pint glass towards Xander, but he made a disconsolate sound and tried to back away from the glass. “Just a little bit, to wash your mouth out…” But he shook his head and Lyle sighed, withdrawing the glass from him. “Don’t worry… Zubin’ll be here soon.” Lyle was reassuring himself as well as Xander as he said this. Xander had slumped slightly so he was resting against Lyle on the bench,  but every thirty seconds or so Lyle could see the beginning of a heave in his belly and he made feeble attempts to abort them.

“Xander?!” Zubin’s voice came loudly from the doorway, and Lyle nearly cried out in relief. Zubin moved to kneel in front of Xander, but Lyle shook his head quickly.

“Watch out!” He warned, just before Zubin stepped in a puddle of sick, which he then avoided deftly.

“I thought it was you!” Zubin said in alarm, looking directly at Lyle. “When that guy came and said someone was puking their guts out…”

“I’m fine,” Lyle assured, “it’s Xander who’s really not well… I didn’t know what else to!” Lyle could hear the panic in his own voice now that he wasn’t the one in charge anymore, but Zubin gave his shoulder a quick squeeze.

“You did the right thing,” he said. “Allah alive Xand, you’re in a right mess…” Xander said nothing, but let out a little whimper which denoted his agreement.

“We need to get him home,” Lyle said quietly. “But I don’t think a taxi will have us when he’s like this…”

“No, I doubt it…”

As if to prove that point, Xander gave a weak heave and another mouthful of sick dropped onto the ground.

“Oh dear, right, fuck man…” Zubin ran his hand through his hair, making it stand straight up on end more than it normally did. “We’re gonna need to get him home ourselves, so we need everyone’s help…”

“You mean the girls?” Lyle asked.

“And Seòras,” Zubin stated.

“Nope, he won’t,” Lyle said firmly.

“What? Why not?” Zubin’s eyebrows raised so high they disappeared into his hairline.

“It may have escaped your notie so far, but Seòras is horrifically afraid of anyone who’s sick – this is like his idea of hell…” Lyle answered, Zubin looked surprised.

“I wasn’t aware of that…”

“S-sorry…” Xander mumbled in a rather slurred voice.

“Nope, don’t be silly, it’s nothing to do with you,” Zubin told him. “Just the girls then, and we’ll figure a way for the four of us to get him home.”

thehallowedangel  asked:

Now, as you know I'm a stickler for pukey Mori, I don't supose you could do a little something where he doesn't come in to school? Honey gets really worried and head to his house after school only the find Mori curled up in bed with his arms around his stomach and an empty bowl on the floor, refusing to be sick. He keeps apologising for worrying Honey, for being too week to go into school, but Honey keeps telling him it's okay and then he needs to be sick or he'll just keep feeling worse.

here you go! thanks for the prompt @thehallowedangel!

Honey wasn’t a worrier.

Worrying was a waste of energy, in his opinion. Energy that could be put to better use planning things like strawberry shortcake eating contests or pranking the twins.

But when Mori didn’t show up for their first class together - on a Monday - he couldn’t help feeling a little concerned. He was also confused. Two very unpleasant, unfamiliar emotions coiling into a little anxious ball in the pit of his stomach.

It wasn’t like his cousin to abandon him. And it certainly wasn’t like Mori to neglect to inform Honey of his whereabouts. Or, at least he didn’t think it was. His cousin was always just…there. Honey had never been forced to wonder before.

He hadn’t realized how accustomed he’d grown to having Mori’s constant, infallible presence by his side. And now he wasn’t answering any of Honey’s texts. He wasn’t even answering his phone calls.

When the bell rang signaling the beginning of his second class, Honey decided that nothing was more important than making sure Mori was all right. Besides, he really hated Physics.

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anonymous asked:

Way to go on finishing college!! I have an idea from personal experience. Maybe Viktor is really sick and Yuuri is trying really hard to be supportive and helpful, but is also struggling to because of his own severe emetophobia? Thanks, you rock!!

This is a great request! I have never wrote for Yuuri having emetophobia before, but tbh he is such a smol anxious bean that I can totally support this headcanon.

Enjoy some sick!viktor and emetophobic!yuuri :) <3 x

In his defense, Viktor had been doing his best to hide his illness from Yuuri as much as possible, for as long as possible. That was however, until his cover was suddenly blown by him having to sprint off of the sofa into the bathroom when his dinner suddenly decided to make a reappearance. Before this, Yuuri had actually been asleep, curled up peacefully underneath a throw whilst Viktor half watched (read: half focused on not puking on his boyfriend) some awful Russian sitcom that Yuuri couldn’t make head nor tail of, so decided he’d be better off asleep. However the abrupt movement of Viktor jumping off of the sofa in his haste to reach the toilet in time had awoken Yuuri, who was now wondering where on earth his fiance had got to.

Viktor only just made it in time. He collapsed over the toilet bowl and heaved, a slurry of undigested dinner quickly making a foul reappearance into the toilet. It poured out of him in a thick torrent as waves of puke left him gasping for breath between choking gags and loud, harsh retches which had his whole body lurching forward in exertion. The powerful and loud heaves and splutters, combined with the awful splashes of his stomach contents in the water, and also the fact that he didn’t have time to close the door before his stomach rebelled against him, meant that the noise also reached Yuuri’s ears.

At first Yuuri had not thought much of Viktor’s sudden disappearance. The man was certainly unpredictable at the best of times to say the least. If he suddenly had an idea, or an overwhelming urge to do something, the likelihood was that he would suddenly take off and do it- no matter what it was, be it even 2 o’clock in the morning (which had happened before). But when he heard the awful retching sounds coming from down the hall, his blood turned cold.

Viktor was being sick. And it sounded like he really was quite poorly this time too. (The last time he’d got sick it was due to not checking the milk in the fridge before making his tea with it- it had gone sour. It was enough to make him puke, but only 2 or 3 times at least.)

Taking a deep breathe and trying to control his breathing, Yuuri stoody up on slightly trembling legs, before hesitantly making his way toward the bathroom, stopping only to grimace and shudder at one particularly nasty sounding heave which had his heart pounding even harder. But he resolved to not let it get to him- not when Viktor clearly needed help. He had to be there for him.

“Viktor?” He said in a small voice, standing outside the bathroom door which had now seemingly been kicked shut. It had not latched properly, but was closed enough that Yuuri sensed Viktor had at least tried to shut it. Which meant he wanted to keep Yuuri out. Part of Yuuri was relieved as he wouldn’t have to be in the same room as the vomiting was taking place, but part of him was also concerned. Viktor needed looking after… what if he passed out or-

“Viktor?!” He said again, his voice now just a little mouse squeak as the fear got a better hold of him. He’d been too focused on how to help Viktor to notice how ragged his own breathing was getting, and his voice broke as he called out Viktor’s name again.

“In here…” Viktor replied, his voice thick with nausea. He sounded exhausted. He sighed, partly out of how awful he was feeling, but also because he felt guilty for alerting Yuuri that he was so ill. He wanted to protect his boyfriend- he knew of Yuuri’s issues with people being sick, or even  being sick himself. He was a nervous wreck, even more so than usual. But now Yuuri had heard him, he would be determined to look after Viktor, even to his own detriment.

“I- I’m coming in…” Yuuri announced in a shaky voice, pushing open the door slightly. The strong putrid smell of vomit hit him, and he gagged into his fist, his heart racing. He was ok. He could do this.

“Urghhh…” Viktor moaned as his stomach cramped again as he spit into the bowl. He breathed heavily. “No…” He moaned. “You should stay away from me. I’m probably contagious…” He said this to give Yuuri an excuse to leave, but all it did was serve as a reason to get Yuuri even more worked up. His mind started to race just at the thought of catching whatever Viktor had-

“I don’t want you to get sick…” Viktor warned. “Huuurghhhh” he paused to heave again before gulping in ragged breaths. “I’m gross. My stomach is making the most awful noises…” He groaned again as wave of nausea crashed through him, leaving him shaking and weak.

“It’s ok… I- I don’t mind. You’re not well…” Yuuri said, his voice wavering with anxiety, but also concern. He hesitantly stepped toward Viktor and knelt down beside him. He reached out and rubbed Viktor’s back firmly as he retched miserably. Yuuri struggled to regulate his breathing as he felt Viktor’s back hitch and his muscles contract as he heaved again. He was burning…

Yuuri knelt up to wet a flannel in the sink. He draped it over the back of Viktor’s neck, and the sick man sighed in pleasure. However, the relief was short lived as Viktor’s stomach gurgled loudly and he moaned, wrapping his arms tightly around his mid-section.

“Ughhhh… My stomach feels bad…” Viktor moaned again, panting over the toilet before coughing up a thin trickle of bile which clung to his lips sickeningly. Yuuri grabbed a piece of loo roll and carefully wiped Viktor’s face, only after realising what he’d done.

He’d touched it…

Yuuri took a very deep breath, standing up too abruptly so he had to reach out and steady himself on the towel rack. He moved over to the sink and gripped it with both hands, shutting his eyes and panting slightly.

“Yuuri?” VIktor said weakly, before a sickly belch had him shooting back over the toilet in a flash when it brought up a stream of putrid stomach acid with it. He knew it was because of him that Yuuri was panicking, but there was nothing he could do- he couldn’t help it.

“I’m fine-” Yuuri said brisky. He was starting to get nauseous himself from the anxiety, and this just made him panic more. When a breathy burp bubbled up from his chest, Yuuri’s face went white. He shoved open the bathroom window and gulped in the fresh air, coughing and gagging slightly. Tears fell down his face as he struggled with his own mind. Viktor needed looking after, but all the time he was vomiting like this, Yuuri wasn’t sure exactly how much of a help he’d be able to be.

“Hurrghhh…” Viktor gagged and heaved weakly, but finally seemed empty. He still felt dreadful as his poor stomach groaned sickeningly.

“I’m sorry Viktor.” Yuuri muttered as he came away from the window, biting his lip at Viktor’s painfully weak and ill looking state.

“It’s ok..” Viktor said, mustering as much of a smile as he could whilst his stomach cramped and he suppressed the urge to retch, knowing there was nothing to come up anymore. “I’m sorry to put you through this- you’ve done really well and I really do appreciate it.”

Yuuri slowly knelt down beside Viktor and turned the flannel over, gently stroking silver bangs away from Viktor’s burning forehead and carefully rubbing circles in his back. Viktor rested a forearm on the toilet seat and laid his forehead on it, getting his breath back and trying to compose himself.

Viktor swallowed hard and looked up at Yuuri with red rimmed eyes.

“I think I’m done now…” He said weakly, his voice still thick with nausea. He rubbed a hand over his upset tummy as it gurgled loudly again. Yuuri grimaced at the noise but otherwise didn’t move.

“Do you want to go and lay down on the sofa? You won’t be too far from the toilet then…” Yuuri suggested, biting his lip nervously at the thought of Viktor getting sick again. “And I could get you a basin…”

“That sounds lovely…” Viktor smiled softly despite his state. Yuuri wrapped an arm around his poorly boyfriend and helped him up from the floor, surprisingly strong for his size.

Viktor blanched as soon as he was upright, swaying dizzily.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you. We can go as slow as you want, I know you’re still feeling bad…” Yuuri said comfortingly, glad he could be of more help now Viktor wasn’t being sick anymore.   

“Thank you Yuuri…” Viktor smiled as they staggered down the corridor. At one point, Viktor thought he was going to lose it, but he managed to make it the sofa where Yuuri ran and grabbed a bowl from the kitchen. Viktor took it from him desperately and hung over it groaning, but nothing came of it.

Eventually his stomach settled enough for him to start to nod off while still clutching the bowl. Yuuri gently prised it from his grasp, and helped Viktor lie down with his head in Yuuri’s lap.

“There now, just rest. I’ll look after you…” Yuuri murmured gently, caressing his fiance’s silver hair soothingly.  

The last thought Viktor had before he slipped into an exhausted slumber, was that he was so lucky to be laying here with Yuuri Katsuki. Despite clearly struggling with his anxiety, Yuuri had still done his best to be so supportive and helpful. It made Viktor’s heart all warm to have his boyfriend here looking after him, and it truly meant the world to him.

Chris Evans Fic: Outnumbered (1 of 2)

A touch of angst in amongst the fluff in the ‘Four Kids’ verse. It was requested so here it is! Part 1 of 2.


You were ready to curl yourself into a ball and scream. Scream and scream until the whole of Boston could hear you but everyone left you alone and you could hear nothing but silence.

You loved all your children dearly but they were pushing you to the edge today. Worst of all, you were completely by yourself as your darling husband was at the Patriots game with his friends and as you stood in the utility room (with the door closed so you could have a minute to yourself) of your Boston home, shovelling yet more vomit-covered clothing and bed sheets into the washer, you don’t think you could have hated him more.

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anonymous asked:

Please please can we have a sick and burpy Jesse with the stomach flu?

A/N: Thank you for this request anon! This was my first chance to write Jesse, and I really enjoyed it! I hope you do too! 😊

           ‘Nnnnnnnggggrrrrrll.’ Jesse could hear his own stomach gurgling even before he was entirely awake; his brain was being slow and sluggish as he realised he was curled into the foetal position with both of his hands cupping his belly.

           ‘Ggggggggggrrrrruuggguullllllggggggllleeee.’ He could feel the gurgle of liquid inside his stomach and for a few long moments he dared to hope that he’d just eaten too much at dinner and his stomach was making noises as it digested.

           ‘Rrrrrrrrruuuuuuuurrrrrrrlll.’ Very slowly Jesse opened his eyes, the red light of his digital alarm was hard to bring it into focus. He felt like the room was stiflingly hot, even though his covers were kicked off into a bundle at the end of his bed.

           ‘Uuuuuurrrrrrrgggguuuuuuuuuuuuuuurrrr.’ The sound of his stomach was so loud that Jesse couldn’t even pretend that he wasn’t hearing it anymore; and the warmth he felt was making him so lethargic. He unlatched his hand from his stomach, intending to take his t-shirt off in the hope that he might cool down. However as soon as he began to uncurl his legs, his stomach let out a particularly wet sounding gurgle and he found himself swallowing rapidly as saliva pooled in his mouth.

           “Ohhh….” The groan left his mouth before he realised anything as he turned over onto his back. His face felt flushed and his insides were churning like they were in a food processor.

           ‘Uuuuurrruuurruuurruuurrrlll.’ The sound from his belly was so agitated that Jesse knew he had to get up now otherwise he was going to end up puking in his own bed.

           Hauling himself upright, Jesse clamped his hand over his mouth as a weak belch rippled up the back of his throat.

           ‘Guuuguuuuuguuuuuguuuug.’ The world seemed to tilt underneath Jesse’s bare feet, and he stumbled towards his door, one hand still over his mouth as a precaution. He tugged his bedroom door open, emerging into the dark hallway to try and get to the nearest bathroom, but in the dark he bumped into the small table that one of their communal telephones was on, and he heard objects clattering to the ground. His stomach still lurching, he didn’t stop to pick anything up; he could feel his knees trembling underneath him. A sudden creak from ahead of him and a strip of light appeared in the hallway as Cain opened the door.

           “Jesse? What’s going on?” His voice was quiet.

           “Brrrruuuup!” Another gurgly belch bubbled up Jesse’s throat, and he knew that he wasn’t far away from being sick.

           “Are you okay?” Cain asked, sounding worried, and Jesse’s stomach chose that moment to let out a particularly obnoxious whine.

           “Mmmnnn….” Was all Jesse could respond with. Instantly Jesse felt Cain’s cold hand gripping his arm, and he hadn’t realised just how much he’d been shaking until Cain was helping him. He could feel his mouth filling with very wet spit and he was trying to hold back a heave as he was steered into the bathroom. The light was very bright after the darkness of the hallway, and Cain deposited him right in front of the toiley.

           “Uuurp!” Jesse belched as he removed his hand from his mouth; he could feel the sweat dripping down his face, and he felt disgusting.

           “You’re white as a sheet Jesse!” Cain exclaimed now he could see Jesse’s face.

           “My belly really – ulp – hurts…” Jesse groaned, leaning as far as he could over the toilet bowl and allowing the runny saliva to overflow and drip into the water. He was beyond caring what Cain must think of him, he just felt so gross.

           ‘Rrrrrruuuuuuuuurrrrgggleee.’ His stomach gurgled again, and Jesse put his free hand to the distended and painful flesh of his bloated belly.

           “That really doesn’t sound good, sweet…” Cain said, sounding worried. “Are you going to be sick?”

           “Yeah,” Jesse forced out, nodding his head, feeling a tightness at the back of his throat and just wishing it would start. The waiting, hovering over the bowl, as his knees dug into the cold linoleum, was torturous.

           “Shall I rub your back?” Cain offered.

           “Mmhmm,” Jesse tried to nod again; Cain positioned himself so he was right behind Jesse, placed his hand onto Jesse’s damp t-shirt and began to rub his back. Now he was so close to Jesse he could hear the small whining noises coming from him, the little panting breaths and gurgles at the back of his throat.

           “Brrrruuuuuuurrgle!” The burp turned into a gargling mouthful of puke that splashed into the toilet, and he took a sharp intake of breath before another burbling heave pre-empted a splash of more sick.

           “That’s it Jesse,” Cain soothed, continuing to rub Jesse’s back even as he could feel it jerking and heaving. “You’ll feel better once you’re done.”

           “I – uuuurrrgll – better…” Jesse panted, another burbling retch forcing more sick up his throat. “Feel – brrruuuuaaaaarp – awful…”

           “I’m sorry,” Cain tried to reassure him, gently brushing his hair away from his face and feeling a wetness on Jesse’s face that he realised was tears. “Oh love…”

           “Brrruuuuaaaaah!” A sudden thick wave of vomit poured into the water and Cain had to grab his shoulders as he slumped, exhausted, towards the water.

           “Oh Jesse,” Cain tried to prop Jesse up against him while simultaneously flushing the soured contents of Jesse’s stomach away. “How are you feeling now?”

           “Still sick…” Jesse mumbled, he’d closed his eyes as he leant back into Cain’s firm chest; his face was still mottled white.

           “Shall I give you a belly rub?” Cain offered as he could see one of Jesse’s hands was pressing into his stomach.

           “Mmhmm,” Jesse replied, taking his own hand away so Cain would have access to his stomach. Being as gentle as he could, Cain began to massage gentle circles into Jesse’s flesh. “Baaaurp!” Cain’s ministrations encouraged a renewed belch out of Jesse, and Cain paused momentarily. “Keep going, please…” Jesse’s voice sounded weak, which Cain put down to vomiting, and he started up massaging again.

           “You’re going to be okay Jesse,” Cain spoke lowly and gently; but suddenly Jesse was pulling away from him as with another belch he gargled as mouthful after mouthful of vomit poured into the toilet, and he shook violently from the effort. “Oh Jesse, you’re really ill…”

           “Mmmnnn….” Jesse whined in between heaves. “Think – uuurrp – it’s gonna be – guuuuurrrll – a long night.” He strained.

           “Don’t worry,” Cain said firmly. “I’ll look after you.”

queenbeansthelibrarian  asked:

Makoto with a bad fever and stomach bug that keep him from getting any sleep with Haru rocking and comforting his boyfriend at some obscene hour of the morning, please? This is my first request. I've been trying to build up the nerve to ask such fantastic people to write for me. P.S.- I love your Free! and Voltron fics!

@queenbeansthelibrarian You’re too kind! So glad you sent this in. I’ve been craving a little Free! action so thanks for the inspiration! 

Haruka blinked into the darkness, confusion and drowsiness fogging his sleep-addled mind.

It was two in the morning and he still felt exhausted. So why was he suddenly so awake?

The hairs along the back of his neck prickled with the sensation of Makoto’s warm breath ghosting along his nape. Haruka shivered slightly and felt under the covers for his boyfriend.

Makoto made a small humming noise when Haruka’s fingers stroked up along the ridge of his stomach. He breathed again, a sharp inhale followed by a soft moan.

Mmm…Mako?” Haruka slurred, turning over to face the other boy. He felt the last traces of sleepiness dissipate almost immediately.

Even in the dark, he could see the way Makoto’s brows were furrowed in discomfort, his lips twitching minutely as he struggled through…what? A nightmare? Indigestion? Haruka was at a loss. Whatever was wrong, Makoto was beginning to squirm restlessly in his sleep.

Haruka touched a finger to the side of his face, traced it upwards along the curve of Makoto’s hairline and brushed back a damp mess of bangs. Pressed up against him, Haruka could tell how much his boyfriend was sweating, even through the thin layer of sheet separating their bodies.

For a moment, Makoto seemed to be trying to nuzzle closer, pressing his face into the dip between Haruka’s collarbone, releasing a hitching breath as his limbs writhed awkwardly beneath the covers. Then he abruptly rolled away, swinging his legs clumsily over the side of the bed with a low groan.

“Makoto?” Haruka sat up behind him, arms looping carefully around his boyfriend’s chest and nose pressing against his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“Stomach,” Makoto slurred, wrapping one arm around his abdomen; the other reached up to hold onto Haruka’s hand. “Feel weird, Haru.”

“You’re really warm,” Haruka said, free hand stroking soothingly down Makoto’s arm. “Do you want some water?”

Makoto swallowed thickly and shook his head, head bowed low. His shoulders rolled with a convulsive tremor and Haruka could feel the muscles coiling beneath his hand.

“I gotta —“ Makoto paused to swallow again, “— bathroom.”

When Makoto pulled out of his arms, Haruka let him go, watching as Makoto stumbled drunkenly into the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

Haruka sat in the dark and waited, uncertain of what to do or how to help.

A few minutes later, he heard the toilet flushing and Makoto emerged, pale and trembling. One arm cradled his stomach and the other was gripping the doorframe like a lifeline.

“You okay?”

Makoto gave a shaky nod and belched into his fist before falling face-first back into bed.

“Makoto?” Haruka leaned over his boyfriend, running his fingers through the sweaty mess of hair plastered against Makoto’s neck.

Makoto shivered and pulled the blankets back up around himself.


The boy hiccuped weakly and buried his head in the pillow.

“Jus’ wanna sleep,” he murmured.

“At least drink something,” Haruka tried.

But Makoto was already sound asleep, congested snores slowly filling the silence.

Haruka lay back and frowned up at the ceiling, drifting in and out of a hazy doze for a while. A violent shudder against his back jerked him into wakefulness.

“Hey,” he whispered, rolling over to reach out for the other boy.

There was a muffled choking noise, the wet, garbled sound of gagging.

“Makoto!” Haruka sprang up in alarm. He went to shake his boyfriend and realized that Makoto was still asleep. His body had apparently gone on autopilot and was determined to expel whatever the hell was making him sick whether he was ready or not.

Something splashed onto the pillow and Haruka quickly heaved the unconscious boy into a sitting position. Makoto moaned, eyelashes fluttering open, then closed again. Instinctively, he raised a hand to his mouth as his upper body jerked with a forceful heave. A flood of warm sick was suddenly spilling from between his fingers, dripping down his arm and onto the sheets.

“Shit,” Haruka cursed under his breath, reaching up to move Makoto’s hand away from his mouth just in time for the next wave to splash into both of their laps.

“Oh, god,” Makoto whimpered, burping up a smaller mouthful. He hovered for a moment, panting raggedly, confused.

“It’s all right,” Haruka soothed, running his hand down Makoto’s back. “You’re okay.”

“Haru,” Makoto whispered, finally registering the cooling mess soaking into his lap. When he looked up at Haruka, his eyes were filling with tears.

“Makoto, it’s okay,” Haruka quickly assured, taking the clean edge of the blanket to wipe some of the vomit from Makoto’s mouth and bare chest. “Come on. Don’t do that.”

“I —I’m sorry,” Makoto stammered, dangerously close to crying. “Haru, I’m so sorry.”

“You’re sick,” the other boy said matter-of-factly. “You didn’t mean to.”

“The bed —“

“Can be washed,” Haruka interrupted before the water-works really got started. “Don’t worry about it.”

But Makoto wasn’t paying attention. He sniffled miserably and began balling up the sheets, caught in a frantic litany of, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

“Makoto,” Haruka placed a gentle hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Stop.”

“But — but I need to wash them.”

Haruka shook his head, carefully easing the soiled fabric out of Makoto’s hands and away from both of them.

“Later. Right now let’s get cleaned up.”

Makoto stared down at the mattress, reached up to wipe at the tears trailing down his cheeks and nodded sadly. He wouldn’t look at Haru.

Haruka gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze and helped Makoto climb out of bed. It was a slow trek to the bathroom with Makoto too dizzy to support most of his considerable weight. He leaned heavily against Haruka, one arm perpetually hugging his stomach.

Once inside, Makoto collapsed to his knees and slumped over the toilet, struggling clumsily with the lid.

“Here,” Haruka helped him set it in place and brushed a few damp strands behind Makoto’s ear to get them out of the line of fire. Not that it really mattered much at this point.

Makoto opened his mouth, panting towards the water as strings of saliva dribbled into the bowl. A deep, guttural belch rolled out of him, followed by a small mouthful of bile.

Haruka rubbed his hand between his boyfriend’s shoulder blades, coaxing up another wet sounding burp.

“You’re all right, Mako,” he shushed. “Don’t fight it.”

“Sorry —” Makoto hiccuped, the noise echoing in the bowl, “—about all this.”

“Stop apologizing.” Haruka tried to keep the agitation out of his voice. “It’s not your fault.”

Makoto convulsed with another belching gag and Haruka heard a much louder splash as he brought up whatever was left in his stomach.

Finished for the moment, Makoto rested his cheek against the rim and Haru rose to retrieve a washcloth. He ran it under warm water and sat down cross-legged behind Makoto.

“Come here,” he coaxed.

Makoto complied, leaning back until his head was resting comfortably against Haruka’s shoulder. His skin was burning, face nearly ashen except for the two flushes of red decorating his cheekbones.

“You’re a mess,” Haruka muttered affectionately as he began cleaning the worst of the drying vomit from his boyfriend’s chest.

“Nuh-uh, sheets are,” Makoto slurred, swallowing thickly. “’S warmer in the dryer.”

“What?” Haruka paused and peered down, concerned.

“Laundry,” Makoto murmured, as if that clarified everything. “It’ll be warm.”

“Are you cold?”

Makoto shook his head, but shivered anyway.

“Everything’s…’s all spinning. Haru?”

Shh,” Haruka ran his fingers through Makoto’s hair, trying to calm him. “You’re running a fever. That’s all.”

“Yeah,” Makoto breathed, nearly unconscious. “Still need to wash ‘em. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about that anymore,” Haruka whispered into his hair. Makoto moaned softly, beginning to fidget against him, cramps gurgling in his stomach.

“Hurts,” Makoto curled harder against him, seeking the warmth.

“I’ve got you,” Haru said, hugging his boyfriend to his chest, rocking him a little, hoping to settle him down. “You’re gonna be all right.”

They stayed that way until Makoto was forced to crawl back over to the toilet so he could throw up more air.

Haruka took the opportunity to retrieve their pillows, settling in for the long haul.

The laundry would simply have to wait.

The Story Of Kal and Jax

Ok so here is a little fic that nobody asked for ;)

It tells the story of how Kal and Jax realised the feelings they felt for each other were mutual. I wrote it because I once started another story similar to this, which got lost when my phone broke, so I decided to put my mind at rest and write the fic again. I hope you enjoy :)

This is dedicated to the three people that have massively inspired me in writing sickfic- @emetoandotherthings @anonyony1 and @dont-look-so-good - you guys are all amazing and without you I wouldn’t be writing sickfic! The idea of Kal and Jax started about a year ago now, and this fic has brought me right back to the beginning where it all started.

“Jax, are you done yet?…” Kal said hesitantly, leaning on the wall opposite their small ensuite bathroom where Jax had been holed up ever since Kal woke up 10 minutes ago. He hadn’t heard a peep from the other man the entire time he’d been awake, even when he called out to say good morning.

Kal was doing his very best to not get frustrated. After all, it was always normally him who was hogging the bathroom in the morning, and poor Jax didn’t normally get a look in. At least, he was trying not to let his mounting frustration show in his voice. He had a lecture at 9, and he was going to be late at this rate.

But he controlled it. Even after 15 minutes, he still didn’t yell, or swear when Jax neither emerged, nor responded to any of Kal’s questions. Kal was really starting to doubt if Jax was in there at all, but came to the conclusion that he must be, otherwise the door wouldn’t be locked.

He wasn’t going to get annoyed. He didn’t want to upset his new friend. He wanted to make a good impression. He liked Jax. A lot. Maybe a bit more than-

“Kal?” A weak voice came from within. It sounded like Jax had just woken up. Of course, Kal laughed, the silly man must of fallen asleep on the toilet. Wouldn’t be the first time…

“Kal?” Jax said again, sounding slightly strange. This piqued his interest…

“Are you alright in there?” Kal said quickly, moving closer to the door. He still couldn’t sense movement from within.

“Yes…urm, no…” Jax sighed. “Please…could you help me?…” he said in a small voice that just about broke Kal’s heart.

Still not knowing what on earth was happening, but equally not about to deny his friend the help that he clearly had to pluck up the courage to ask for, Kal proceeded to push firmly against the flimsy white plastic door, which easily gave with a few brisk shoves, despite being locked.

He was not prepared for the sight which greeted him.

Jax was collapsed over the toilet, legs sprawled ungraciously across the bathroom floor as he weakly attempted to hold himself up over the rim of the toilet seat. His dark blue pyjama t-shirt had been flung down of the floor next to him and his back was coated in a sheen of sweat. He panted raggedly as he hung over the toilet, staring down at the water and shuddering with an abortive heave.

“Sorry-” was the first thing he could think of to say before he was overcome by an overwhelming need to retch. “Urghhh” he moaned as his stomach lurched. He paused to get a hold of his sick stomach for a moment before explaining to a now very concerned looking Kal who had quickly dropped to his knees to sit beside Jax and rub his back firmly, all the while fretting at the evident fever radiating from his sick friends skin.

“I think I’ve come down with some kind of -hurrlllppp- bug…” he grate out, retching painfully again before coughing a small amount of yellow bile into the toilet water. “Huurrkkk! Hurrhh-”  the poor man couldn’t seem to get a break.

“Oh Jax!” Kal exclaimed, his eyes round with worry as Jax turned his tired head slightly to look at him with red and watery eyes from the exertion of being so violently ill all through the night, until now when there was absolutely nothing left inside him, and his body was wracked with dry heaves. Jax’s face was deeply flushed and sweating too, and a line of saliva hung from his lips and dripped into the toilet pathetically. He leaned over the toilet once more and groaned, expecting another bout of retching and vomiting bile as another surge of nausea wreaked havoc with his poorly stomach.

“Have you been like this all through the night?” Kal said sadly, absent-mindedly putting his arm around Jax’s skinny shaking shoulders. The poor man was absolutely burning.

“Mhmm…” Jax murmured in assent as a small retch suddenly tore up his throat and he whole body lurched as he attempted to suppress it, his stomach muscles burning in pain from the relentless cramping and heaving.

“Oh Jax…” Kal sighed as Jax coughed weakly into the toilet again. He ran a glass of water into their bathroom cup, and offered it to Jax, who was unable to take is due to the way he was gripping the toilet seat so tightly as he lurched over it again.

“Hurrkk! Urllpp-” Jax burped queasily, a large amount of sickly air freeing itself from his sick stomach and making him shudder and retch again at it’s vile acidic taste. “Hurrrrrllllk!”

“Shhh, it’s ok, you’re alright…” Kal murmured awkwardly, not good with comforting people but also unable to bear standing by watching the awful state Jax was in without at least doing something. He rubbed his heaving back and help him a little tighter as Jax swayed a little. Kal waited patiently for the bout of heaving and retching to stop as Jax struggled to control his own body with difficulty. He tried to calm the poor sick boy down enough so he could at least get some water in his stomach so he didn’t tear his esophagus dry heaving.

“I think you should try some water- you’re getting dehydrated…” Kal fretted. Jax predictably blanched at this suggestion, his face draining even whiter. He hung over the toilet and shut his eyes, groaning involuntarily. He put a hand to his stomach and hiccuped softly.

Kal tenderly raised the glass to Jax’s lips. Jax looked shocked, probably more likely at the gentless displayed by his normally sarcastic and brusk roommate. It seemed like maybe Kal did care about him more than he thought…

Kal cared about him. That alone gave him the courage to sip at the water, grateful for the time and effort Kal was putting in for him to make sure he wasn’t passed out in his own vomit, even when he knew Kal had a lecture. He knew caretaking wasn’t exactly one of Kal’s strong points, yet he seemed to be making a real effort…

“Heeuurrrlllllk! Heurrrreughhh…” immediately the water Jax had swallowed came straight back up in one thick, vile gush, which splashed into the toilet water and even slightly back on Jax’s face, his head was buried that far into the toilet.

It was then that Jax started to cry. He wasn’t in control of his body. Here he was making a disgusting and embarrassing mess of himself in front of the man he secretly loved, but knew he’d never have. His stomach ached so much that he curled in on himself and sobbed, wondering in his fevered state what on earth he’d done to deserve this.

“I don’t- ‘m sorry…” he cried, his tears punctuated with nauseous little hiccups that were weak and high pitched. Kal thought he adorable they sounded, although he knew Jax must really be feeling so awful to be crying. He couldn’t stand it.

“You need to be in bed…” Kal worried. Jax shook his head and swallowed hard, with a little audible gulping noise and he swallowed to urge to retch along with the excess saliva pooling in his mouth unpleasantly.

“-hurrk!- Not done…ughhh…” Jax moaned, shuddering and wrapping his arms around his belly.

“My tummy feels so bad…” He cried. Kal took one look at him, feverish and sobbing on the bathroom floor, and decided that whatever he said, Jax needed to be in bed.

“I know… I’m sorry Jax, I really am. If I could take it from you, I would…” Kal muttered, more to himself as he wasn’t entirely sure Jax really had much of a firm grasp on what was going on. “Let’s get you lying down, it might help your stomach to feel better- get some rest.” When Jax started to shake his head miserably, Kal corrected him.

“I know you still feel horrendous, I can tell that just by looking at you, but I’m pretty sure that your stomach must be empty by now. You’re just feeling unwell because you’ve got a bug, and your body is still trying to fight it, but that’s just the way it is. I’m sorry…”

“S’ not your fault…” Jax whispered, his voice barely a scratchy and sore sounding croak.

Kal helped the weak, sweaty and trembling man to his feet and together they staggered out of the bathroom and over to Jax’s bed. He curled up and wrapped his arms tight around his tummy and moaned softly. Kal wisely brought the rubbish bin from the desk over and placed it by Jax’s bed. He puffed up the pillows and placed a clean towel over them just in case Jax got sick again and couldn’t make it to the trash can in time. He pulled Jax’s duvet over him carefully.

“There…” He said quietly. “That’s better. Try to get some rest, you’ll feel better when you wake up…” He murmured gently, hoping desperately that would be that case. “If you need anything, I’ll be on my laptop at the desk, just call me.” Jax’s eyes were closed but he nodded slightly in recognition.

Kal walked back to the bathroom to get Jax a glass of water for later if he felt up to it. He placed it on the table.

“Shouldn’t you be at your lecture?” A sleepy and exhausted voice came from under the blankets.

Kal was surprised he knew at all, let alone remembered. He blushed a little, but needn’t of worried for Jax still had his eyes shut.

“It’s not important. You are.” Kal said firmly, before blushing in embarrassment again after realising how it sounded. It sounded like he was in love… It was the truth. But it just couldn’t be. As far as everyone knew, Kal was straight. He’d had girlfriends. He dated girls. No one could know anything otherwise. His father would kill him. His family would disown him. But all the same he couldn’t deny what he really knew deep down. And Jax made him feel it stronger than he ever had for any other man before. He couldn’t deny it.

Jax didn’t reply, so Kal walked away sadly. Part of Kal wished that Jax had acknowledged what he said. He did care.

“Kal?…” A sleepy and only half conscious voice slurred.

“Jax?” Kal said, a little quicker than was necessary. Anything Jax wanted, he’d get for him. He simply couldn’t leave Jax alone in this state.

“I love you-”

Kal’s mouth dropped open and for the first time in his life he was utterly speechless. He walked over to Jax, whose eyes were squinting slightly open. He was feverish, but he was definitely awake. Kal felt sad at the fact that he knew Jax would probably not remember this moment when he was feeling better, and due to this fact, he decided to make the most of it.

“I love you too.” He said so quietly that is was barely audible. He took hold of Jax’s hand and kissed it gently. Jax closed his eyes and Kal thought he’d gone to sleep, but he noticed a small smile forming on Jax’s lips.

“I always will…” He whispered as Jax fell asleep, a small tear falling down his cheek as he walked away back to the desk.

Jax slept all through the day and into the night. When he awoke early the next morning, feeling empty and sore but vastly improved, he looked over at Kal’s peacefully sleeping face. He looked sad, and for a moment Jax couldn’t work out why.

But then Jax smiled to himself. He did remember…

anonymous asked:

Hi! Can you please write a fic where Makoto falls really ill (a stomach bug and a fever maybe) and his mom and dad take care of and comfort him. I love your work very much. Keep at being awesome❤️❤️❤️

Thank you kind anon^^
Hope you enjoy!


“Okaasan? Okaasan!”

“What is it Makoto dear?” His mother came into the room in the middle of the night. The light shining though the door made Makoto squint in his pitch black room. With the light shining in, she could see he was curled up in a ball with all the covers kicked off his bed.

“My stomach.” He squeezed his midsection tightly. “I feel really sick. And I’m so hot.”

His mother put her hand on his forehead and clicked her tongue. She went to get a thermometer and on the way, her maternal instinct told her to place the trash bin in his room beside Makoto’s bed.

She was gone for less than a minute but when she returned, she found Makoto leaning over the side of his bed being sick into the trash bin.

“Oh, you poor dear.” She sat beside him, lifting up the bin and holding it for him. The light from the hallway made Makoto’s cheeks glisten, as tears were streaming down his face.

He leaned over the bin panting as if he could only inhale and sobbing between stifled gags. He leaned forward with a particularly strong gag but it only produced coughing.

His mother rubbedcircles around his back and ran her fingers through his sweat soaked hair. “Shh. It’s okay Makoto. It’s all going to be okay.”

Makoto tried to calm down his breathing but ended up coughing again with only air escaping from his throat. He gagged forcefully and felt his stomach contents jump. One more gag forced everything out before he could even get a breath in and he heaved up a fountain of liquid. The bitter acidic sting made his eyes water and he coughed and spat out the foul taste.

After the first spell stopped, his mother had him lay back down. By then, Makoto had sweat through his clothes and he was shivering. His mother took off his shirt and wrapped a blanked around him.

“It’s st-st-still cold.” He shivered.

His mother used the thermometer to take his temperature and had an expression of worry when she looked at it.

“What is it?” Makoto asked, still bundled up in a straight jacket of blankets.

His mother left the room and a moment later he heard his father’s voice.

‘No!’ He thought. ‘Don’t wake Otousan.’ An air bubble escaped his throat followed by a large belch. Makoto covered his mouth with both hands as nausea rushed over him. He glanced around in the dark, desperately looking for the trash bin but he couldn’t see it. He shut his eyes and swallowed constantly but when a flood of liquid poured into his mouth there was nothing he could do.

Makoto tried to lean over the side of his bed but he wasn’t fast enough. A second later, a flood of vomit came up his throat, pushing the first mouthful out. Vomit poured through of his fingers and he removed his hands and leaned forward, heaving and coughing loudly.

His mother and father ran inside the room and turned on the light. They saw Makoto with vomit dropping down his front and all over his bed.

“I’m- so sorry.” Makoto broke down into tears, still holding out his hands which were dripping with sick.

His father ran and brought him a towel which his mother used to wipe off Makoto’s chest and chin. “Shh. It’s okay dear. It was an accident.”

Makoto wanted to believe that, but he still felt guilty.

His father somehow managed to lift him up and carry his sick son to the bathroom. He put him down on the closed toilet seat and Makoto hung his head low with exhaustion and embarrassment.

“Otousan- I’m-” he tried to apologize but his father turned on the shower so it was too loud to hear him. He took Makoto’s clothes off and helped him sit in the bathtub. He rinsed him down with the shower head, the cool water feeling good on his hot skin.

His father dried his hair with a towel and wrapped it around Makoto. Then he was walked back to bed and relieved to see that his mother had remade his bed for him with clean sheets and covers.

His father put new pjs on Makoto, who shivered when the tower was removed. He laid back in bed, happy to be clean and back in under the warm covers. His mother placed the trash bin right beside his bed within arms reach.

“Open.” His mother was suddenly holding a tablespoon of red liquid medicine in front of his mouth. Makoto was too sick to ask questions, so he downed the medicine and winced at the disgusting taste.

“That should help you feel better. Now we’ll be right next door if you need us.” His mother and father told Makoto before shutting the door.

Makoto was so exhausted he wanted nothing more than to sleep but no matter what he did, he couldn’t. He tossed and turned in his bed, pulling the covers on and off and leaning over the side of his bed over the trash bin waiting for something to happen but it didn’t. He was moaning in his sleep, tossing and turning restlessly. He felt so sick he didn’t think he could take it.

Finally, he leaned over the bed and burped out of stream of air bubbles that made his stomach muscles flex. He heaved up a stream of vomit, the first bout tasting like the sour medicine he drank and the second like what he had eaten for dinner. By the third he was no longer paying attention to the taste, only wishing for it to be over. For a moment, he got scared because he couldn’t seem to stop being sick.

“Okaasan-gUahh Otousan-uueEEh” he shouted between gasps and strong bouts of puking.

His parents ran in quickly and his father helped Makoto sit up and held him up as he was sick into the bin.

“It doesn’t feel like his fever went down at all.” His father could feel Makoto’s boiling hot skin as he held up the limp boy to keep him from falling out of bed.

Makoto realized he must have been given fever medicine, and that that he had just vomited it all up. “I’m-hic-sorry.” He started to cry again.

“Don’t apologize dear. It isn’t your fault.” His mother stroked his hair.

“Everyone gets sick.” His father told him.

Makoto sniffed. “I’ve caused you so much trouble.” He started sounding dazed.

“Don’t worry about that love. That’s our job as parents.” His mother tried to explain.

“I- I wanna try'nd- take it again.” Makoto’s words were slurring together.

“Are you sure?” His mother asked, and Makoto nodded.

He took another dose of the same foul tasting medicine with a sour face and his parents put him back to bed. He was so tired he managed to fall asleep for a short time. But he woke up less than an hour later in a cold sweat. He was overwhelmed with nausea and leaned over to be sick into the bin.

After being in bed so long, Makoto had to go to the bathroom, so he took the bin and wondered around in his dark room trying to find the light switch. He felt so weak and dizzy that he could hardly stand. He tripped on something in the dark and fell with a clatter.

His parents must have heard the noise, because they ran in a moment later. Makoto broke down into tears on the ground and his father helped lift him up to go to the bathroom.

After that, Makoto’s parents took turns sitting beside his bed looking after him. Eventually, Makoto managed to stay asleep.

Sunday afternoon study session.

For all my followers heading back to school this week or next:
-Your studies are a high priority this year but YOU are what comes first.
-Get up early and EAT BREAKFAST
-Stop at a reasonable time at night and spend a little while unwinding- read a children’s book or colour in or listen to a podcast but for goodness sake STAY AWAY FROM YOUR SCREENS
-Remember social media is largely a lie
-Take a mental health day if you need to, if you had a vomiting bug you’d call in sick, your anxiety/depression/agoraphobia etc should be treated no differently.

Study love!