#stomach bug

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Madix’s stomach tried its hardest to digest the sludge of food that he had forced down his throat all that day. It wasn’t his fault—the nachos had such bubbly warm cheese that called his name, and the burger had caramelized onions that begged him to approach. Now all the grease and sugar coated his gut in a layer of grime. His tummy burbled sickeningly as it attempted to deal with the overwhelm that a day at the fair had caused.  

He staggered next to Dakota who seemed to be dealing with the food expertly. He had been a fool to think that he could keep up with his best friend. The man was a pro at putting away every dish they came across. 

Poutine, easy. Ice cream, no problem. He simply sighed contently after every bite that got Madix feeling more and more like a zombie. 

It was a struggle to pick up his feet, but he had to keep up, or else Riley and Blair would run off into the crowd, never to be seen again with their significant others. 

At least Dakota hung back with him, even if it was because he kept getting distracted by the food vendors and not because he noticed Madix’s deteriorated state. He jumped excitedly in line for a beaver tail. 

Madix swallowed thickly as he came to stand next to his friend. The Canadian treat gave off the sickly-sweet aroma of syrups and cheesecake. The people around them carried their oversized pastries that dripped with thick white frosting or a drizzling of rich chocolate. 

“I think I want the brownie one!” he said, pointing to the sign ahead. “It has Nutella on it! Do you want to split it with me?” 

Madix moaned and jammed his head into Dakota’s shoulder. “…. Ugh.” 

“Okay fine, jeez? How about the strawberry cheesecake?”

"Noooo..."

He gave his arm a jerk. “Why you sound so mopey, Maddy?” 

“Too much food…” he slurred out. His chest hitched with a hiccup. The nausea made all his muscles stiff. “I don’t feel good. How can you still be hungry?” 

“Classic mistake.” Dakota pulled his greenish friend into a side hug. “We’ve moved beyond our primitive needs. Hunger has nothing to do with it anymore. It’s all about the experience.” 

“Oh, I think I’m in for a doozy of an “experience” any minute now.” 

Dakota chuckled at first, but then quickly wondered how much Madix was joking. The boy next to him swayed with fatigue. His eyelids were droopy as if his full stomach were weighing every part of him down. Personally, he felt only the beginnings of fullness, but Madix was nearing the end of his limits it seemed. 

He took off his sunglasses, only then realizing how quickly the sun had set. The sky was now purple and pink, and Madix’s cheeks were grey. “You do look pale, buddy. Maybe take a break from the rides and food.” 

“Yeah, I think I have to. I’d like to sit down as well, but I don’t want to lose Riley and Blair.” 

Dakota waved this away. “I’ll text Blair that we stopped for a break. Look, we can sit under that tree, there’s a bench.” 

Dakota ate his pastry happily while next to him Madix wondered what was going on with his belly. He was full, but this level of nausea was intense. If he were at home, he’d most likely be on the bathroom floor by now. Here, he was not sure how far a walk the nearest bathroom was. Instead, he would focus on keeping the food down until he had time to digest. 

Dakota was not helping with the way he devoured the chocolate mess of dough and oil.  

“Ugh, Kota. I want to go home. I think I may actually throw up, but there’s a lot of people here.” He hugged his belly.

“You feel that bad?” The sudden development surprised him. “I’ve seen you eat way more."

“I don’t know why…” Madix burped and let out a nauseous moan. “I just feel really fucking sick.” He glanced at his friend with his glassy eyes. “Would you hurry up and eat that already. It’s dripping onto your hand.” 

Dakota licked the precarious drop of icing. “It’s messy, I’m sorry.” After three huge bites and finger licking, he finished the treat in time to see Madix shudder and gag. 

Madix suddenly stood up on shaky legs. This was bad. He could feel pressure growing in his throat. Rising. 

“Oh God, I can’t keep it down.” He tried to speak through the nausea and the hand that covered his mouth. “One second.” He wandered away from the main road, away from the bench where they sat, and beyond the fenced in grass. 

Dakota quickly followed his swaying friend. 

“Oookay, I guess we’re going on a little excursion.” He grimaced at the retch that tore up Madix’s throat. He grabbed his friend’s arm to steady him. “This is a good spot to let loose, Maddy. I’ve got you.” 

A shower of vomit came gushing from Madix’s mouth. It was orange and frothy. His poor belly squeezed in on itself tighter. Another mouthful of greasy mush added to the puddle at his feet. He felt the muscles in his back tense continuously as the heaves sent him forward. 

A groan of misery escaped him. 

Dakota kept a firm grip on his woozy friend. It was odd to see him so weak. Every gag pushed him around like a puppet dangling on a string. “Kneel here, Madix. You’re swaying a lot and I don’t like it.” 

“Don’t feel good,” he slurred. A hiccup made his chest jump and more slushy vomit splattered onto the grass. The sound gurgled in his throat. “Ugh, my belly. I’m so full.” 

Wave after wave came up from Madix’s upset belly. It was relentless and slow. Whenever he thought he was finished, the nausea shot back through his body. Droplets of sweat coated his forehead, dampening the strands of hair that hung in front of his eyes. 

Dakota brushed the hair off his forehead. It was not a hot night and yet still Madix was melting. “You’re so out it, man. I think you have a fever.” 

Madix nodded lazily. “Yeah probably. This is a lot.” He blinked quickly. “I can’t focus long enough to…to…do anything.” 

“You don’t have to do anything but sit. Wait until you feel better. Do you still need to puke?” 

“I think so.” He rubbed his stomach. “It’s like gurgling, my belly. This was not a good time to eat fair food.” 

You are correct in that I’ve now been through what I hope is most of the symptoms I’ll experience! I’ve been off work since then as they don’t allow you to return if you’ve had tummy symptoms for a few days.

My belly was cramping painfully and was very achy and swollen by the end of the shift and the noises coming out of it were truly hideous… I didn’t want to use the bathroom on the ward due to lack of privacy so I kept holding on, but then I had to hand over my patients (about 20 mins), go to my car (about 10 mins) and then drive home (… about 30 mins), with my belly gurgling urgently the whole time. My uniform and seatbelt were pushing on my tummy the whole drive home and I was struggling to concentrate because of the pains shooting through my guts at this point.

When I got home I took my uniform straight off and I was shocked by how swollen and bloated my tummy was. I lay down at first (scared of the inevitable I guess?) and rubbed my tummy nervously. It felt hard and it really hurt. The gurgles quietened down a little so I relaxed a bit, thinking that maybe it was just reacting to lunch rather than coming down with the tummy bug.

I closed my eyes, one hand on my belly and started to drift off…

… I was woken up about 20 minutes later by a massive churn in my lower tummy, the return of the pains in my guts and an *overwhelming* need to go to the toilet. I got up and ran to the bathroom in my underwear, one hand on my gurgling tummy, and sat on the toilet and an entire belly full of liquid diarrhea started coming out. I was on the toilet for half an hour, with the rumbles coming in waves… and then back on the toilet 8 times overnight, again with belly ache and bad diarrhea.

Oh wow...

It really sounds like you've been hit by a mild belly bug! You should consider yourself lucky though that you've only had diarrhea, and no vomiting. From what ive heard (both online and in person), this belly bug tends to hit from both ends, and is brutal.

If it is a tummy bug, I'm very impressed that you managed to hold it for over an hour with a churning belly!

Sick days: Matt ~ reader

Word count: ~1,850

Fluff / Hurt-Comfort / Sickfic

I got a little help creating this!

⸻

I knew something wasn’t right the second I stepped into the house. Usually, Matt would be the first to greet me, teasing or playfully dramatic, his signature grin impossible to miss. But today? Silence.

The house was too quiet.

No footsteps.

No dumb jokes from Chris echoing from down the hall.

No Nick complaining about the noise level.

Just… silence.

“Matt?” I called out, my heart already speeding up as I dropped my bag by the door.

A soft, miserable groan answered me from the living room.

I found him sprawled across the couch like he’d been there for hours. His hoodie was pulled halfway over his head, his skin pale and blotchy, and sweat clung to his hairline despite how bundled up he was.

My chest tightened instantly. “Baby… what’s going on? You don’t look good.”

He barely cracked his eyes open to look at me. “Feel like I got hit by a bus. Then thrown up by it.”

That would’ve earned a laugh from me on any other day. Not today. Not when he sounded so weak.

“How long have you felt like this?” I knelt beside the couch, pressing the back of my hand to his forehead.

He winced. “Since last night… got worse this morning. Think I’ve got the flu. Or I’m dying. Either one.”

His skin burned under my touch. My heart sank. “Matt, you have a fever. Like, a bad one.”

He gave a tired shrug. “Figures.”

“Have you eaten? Drank anything?”

Another groan. “Tried water. Threw it up an hour ago. Haven’t moved since.”

I bit my lip, heart cracking a little more at how small he looked curled into himself. This wasn’t just Matt being dramatic. This was him genuinely wiped out. I knew him well enough to tell the difference.

“Okay. First things first, you need to get this hoodie off. You’re overheating.” I tugged gently at the fabric, and though he grumbled, he let me help him sit up just enough to peel it away from his burning skin.

Underneath, he was clammy and shivering despite the heat radiating off him. My fingers skimmed over his cheek. “You poor thing. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Didn’t wanna bug you… thought it’d pass.”

“Matt. You are literally my favorite human being. I want you to bug me. Especially for this.”

He gave me a weak attempt at a smile before closing his eyes again, his head sinking into the throw pillow like it weighed a hundred pounds.

I ran my fingers gently through his hair. “I’m getting you some water, some Tylenol, and a bucket in case you need to throw up again, okay?”

His answer was just a pitiful hum of acknowledgment.

In the kitchen, I found Nick rifling through the fridge. He gave me a knowing look. “He still dying on the couch?”

“Fever. Stomach bug. Probably dehydrated. I’m taking care of it.”

Nick nodded. “He threw up twice this morning. Chris almost gagged. I told him to just let you handle it when you got here.”

I shot him a half-smile. “Thanks, big brother of the year.”

“Hey, I don’t do puke. That’s love territory.”

Armed with a water bottle, medicine, and a bucket, I returned to my sick, suffering boyfriend.

“Here,” I coaxed softly, kneeling beside him again. “Let’s try tiny sips of water. Real slow.”

Matt barely managed two before his face twisted in nausea. “No… I’m gonna—”

I shoved the bucket into his hands just in time.

The sound of him being sick broke my heart into little pieces. He barely had anything in his stomach, but his body kept forcing it out anyway, leaving him shaking and miserable by the time he slumped back against the pillow. I wiped his mouth with a tissue, kissed his temple despite the sweat, and whispered, “It’s okay. I’ve got you. Just breathe.”

He looked at me with glassy, feverish eyes. “This is… the worst. I hate this.”

“I know, baby. I know. I’m right here.”

He gripped my hand weakly like he needed proof I wasn’t going anywhere. I squeezed back.

Once he settled again, I pressed the cool water bottle to his lips. “Just rinse your mouth. Don’t swallow if it makes you sick.”

He obeyed without argument this time.

I pressed two Tylenol into his palm. “These will help the fever. Think you can keep them down?”

He hesitated. “I can try.”

With cautious, slow movements, he managed to swallow them with the tiniest sip of water. I held my breath, waiting. A few minutes passed, no gagging. I exhaled quietly in relief.

“There you go. See? You’re stronger than you think.”

He let out a soft, miserable laugh. “If you say so.”

I helped him lean back again, adjusting the blanket so it wasn’t suffocating but still covering him. His skin still burned under my touch, but he shivered like he couldn’t get warm.

“You’re burning up. I’m gonna get a cold washcloth, okay? For your forehead.”

Another weak nod.

In the bathroom, I soaked a soft cloth in cool water, wringing it out carefully before returning to press it gently against his flushed skin. His eyes fluttered shut the second it touched him, a tiny sigh slipping out.

“That’s better…” he murmured, his voice hoarse and small.

I sat down on the edge of the couch, brushing his damp hair back softly. “Just rest. I’m not leaving.”

He leaned into my touch like he couldn’t help it. “You’re… too good to me.”

“Because I love you. And because if I were this sick, I know you’d do the exact same thing for me.”

“Still…” His voice trailed off, too tired to argue.

We stayed like that for what felt like hours. I kept replacing the washcloth as it warmed against his skin, coaxing him through small sips of water between waves of nausea. His fever spiked, dipped, then spiked again, and through it all, I stayed pressed to his side, whispering reassurances every time his body betrayed him with another round of sickness or chills.

At one point, Chris wandered through on his way to the kitchen. “How’s the patient?” he asked, glancing at Matt with a wince.

“Still alive,” I said quietly. “Barely.”

“Need anything?”

“I’ve got it covered. Thanks though.”

Chris gave me a grateful smile. “He’s lucky you’re here.”

“I know.” I smiled softly down at Matt, who had drifted halfway to sleep again, his hand still loosely clutching mine like an anchor.

By late afternoon, his fever finally seemed to break. His breathing evened out. The shivering stopped. He wasn’t burning up under my hand anymore. Just warm, sleepy, and still a little queasy, but better.

When he opened his eyes again, they looked clearer. Less glazed. Less desperate.

“You didn’t leave,” he whispered, his throat rough but his words more steady now.

“Of course not. I told you, I’m staying right here until you’re better.”

He gave me the faintest, grateful smile. “I don’t deserve you.”

“You’re delirious. That’s the fever talking.”

“No. That’s me talking.”

I kissed his forehead, now only slightly warm. “Just focus on getting better, Matt. You can be sweet and dramatic when you’re healthy.”

He gave a soft, sleepy laugh. “Deal.”

As he finally drifted off into a deeper, less feverish sleep, I stayed curled beside him, hand in his, watching over him like I promised.

Samir in the denial stage of a stomach bug. By the time he moves on to acceptance, he will have already missed the trash can and puked all over both of their feet instead 🫶