#no emeto in this one its just them talking

[bellysoupset]

Just a small Lukebell talk that I couldn't get out of my mind, not a sickfic. This happens before the fic "Max Meets The Gang"

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

"Hey handsome," Bella leaned against the doorway of their bedroom, opening a tired smile as her husband walked in, "you're home late, I was in bed already."

"Sorry," Lucas was pouting as he shut the door with his whole weight, undoing his tie, "the stupid dinner went on for forever."

She raised her eyebrows at his tone, Lucas never complained about work. He apologized for getting tied up, yes, but complain? Never, he loved it.

"Stupid dinner, yeah?" Bella walked closer, until she was in front of him and tiptoed, cupping his cheeks. He was warm and flushed, clearly a bit tipsy, "what's gotten your panties in a twist?"

He snorted at that, turning his face so he could press a kiss to the inside of her hand, "I don't know, I just wanted to be home like six hours ago and the thing wouldn't end..." he yawned, then opened a small smile, "I'm being a whiny baby, let's go to bed. You shouldn't be waiting me up."

"You know I don't sleep that early," Bella shrugged, but allowed him to throw an arm around her shoulders and pull her to his chest. She wrapped her arms around his waist as they waddled to the bedroom, "was your boss on your ass?"

"Nah," Luke let go of her as they entered the bedroom, starting to strip his clothes and Bella crawled back in bed, falling on her side and watching him move around. He was in a shitty mood, because normally Lucas did not make that much noise in order to get ready for bed. He was a fairly thoughtful dude and it was around midnight, not that she was too sleepy.

With a heavy sigh, he got in bed as well, kicking off the blankets and rolling so he could press his cheek to her chest, a position that had his feet sticking out from the end of the bed and Bella shaking with a chuckle. She moved her arm from under him, sinking her fingers on his dark hair and started to pet it, opening a smile as he let out an appreciative noise.

"There was a cute baby there," Lucas mumbled after a couple minutes of silence and Bella raised her eyebrows at the comment, her husband was not the type to really pay attention to kids, that would be Vince or Jonah, "curly hair like yours. I want one."

Maybe more than a bit tipsy then.

She let out a chuckle, "oh yeah? They must've been the cutest thing ever to make you say that," she squirmed slightly and Luke rolled off of her, falling on his pillow and on his side. Bella turned on hers as well, so they were nose to nose.

"Not as cute as ours would be," he wrinkled his nose and Bella let out a snort, pushing a wavy hair back and way from his eyes.

"Where are you going to put this metaphorical baby of yours, uh? The living room? This house barely fits us both, you dork," she rolled her eyes and Luke let out a heavy sigh, bumping his nose with hers.

"Then we can move to a bigger place. It makes no sense for us to be here anyway, Bell, we can afford a bigger place. Have a dog or a cat or both," he said it softly, stroking her cheek, but that didn't stop the ginger from frowning.

"You want to move?" Bella pulled back in order to look at him firmly and he hesitated for a second, before nodding.

"We outgrew this place, baby," Lucas said calmly, "a while ago, if you ask me. You know Leo calls it us roleplaying at being poor?"

Bella scoffed at that, moving away from him and sitting up against the headboard, crossing her arms to her chest and looking around the room. Realistically speaking she knew he was right. Their teeny tiny one bedroom house was a cramped place for one person, let alone two, and they had been sharing it for over a year now.

Yet... There was a little voice in her head that sounded an awful lot like his father, repeating gold-digger over and over. She chewed on her lip and startled slightly when she felt Lucas taking her hands in his, "Isa?"

"What prompted this conversation?" She asked, trying not to melt as he called her Isa, "one of your work buddies brought up where we live? What's up?"

Lucas frowned now, sobering up and sitting up, "are you implying I'm embarrassed of us?"

"Are you?" She was openly picking a fight, Bella knew it, but she couldn't help it. Kit Howard was whispering in her ear that one day Luke was going to wake up and realized he wanted better than her, that their whole romance was a phase.

"Isabella, listen to yourself," Luke rolled his eyes, sounding offended, "if I was embarrassed of us or where we live, I'd bring people around? I'd be happily living here for over a year?" he raised his eyebrows, "we're adults and we can afford a bigger place, why wouldn't we get one?"

Bella curled up, until she could hug her knees and his eyes softened at the movement, clearly realizing how insecure this conversation made her.

"Bell?"

"Over Christmas last year, when you were sick," she lowered her eyes away from his face, nervously picking at the blanket and removing imaginary lint, "your dad, he- He.." her voice trailed off and Bella shut her mouth.

Next to her, Luke let out a distraught noise, "he what? Did he say something? Did he do something?" his voice got a chilling note at the end and Bella snapped her head, shaking it from side to side. Kit Howard was a major asshole and he could be intimidating, but he hadn't touched her.

"He said you'd wake up one day and realize you could do better..." Bella mumbled, hugging herself, "and I know your dad is a jackass, but I can't help but think-"

"No," Lucas glared at her, "no. Look at me, Bella," he grabbed her chin, forcing their eyes to meet, "there's no but. My dad is an asshole and what he said isn't true. Period. He's a serial cheater who neglected his wife during her illness and who capitalized on her death. He's a shitty father and the one time I let him get in my head, I lost you and that almost killed me, so no. I'm not letting him come between us ever again."

Bella nodded, quietly, "I don't wanna go back to the apartment," she almost whispered and Luke pulled her to him, kissing the top of her head.

"Then we won't," he rubbed her back, "I'll sell it, we can pick a place together... If you're alright with it?"

Instead of answering, Bella curled up closer to him, nodding, "you promise me you're never gonna turn into him? No matter how badly we fight, no matter what happens...?"

"I'll never be Kit Howard," Lucas vowed, falling back against the pillows, "doesn't matter how badly we fight."

She melted in his embrace, pressing her nose to his neck and closing her eyes, "let's start with a dog before we level up to a whole child," Bella whispered and heard Luke chuckle, squeezing her closer.

"Yeah, that's fine by me."

[snowbaamgyu]

Beomgyu sickfic idea: https://x.com/beomjunhourly/status/1886392984813416458?s=46. GO CRAXYYYY some emeto would be W tbh the way he sat up and everything

Beomgyu drabble

[Now edited!! new ending]

"Alright guys, you'll be staying here for a day, we'll be recording a kinda new segment of to do so, it's about your daily dorm life so try to be yourselves, the order of the rooms is up to you. That's all, go and get some sleep" the producer said, they all nodded and played games to decide which room they all got.

Beomgyu felt relieved when Taehyun ended up as his roommate, don't get him wrong, he loved all the members but Taehyun eased him up. Beomgyu was feeling kinda anxious and didn't know why, he felt a slight turmoil going inside of him. He's used to sleep in other beds, after all they had to constantly travel, but right now all he wished was to be left alone in his own room back at the dorms.

They all got ready for bed, and once the lights were off Beomgyu hoped he could sleep this weird feeling off. The cameras inside of their rooms were off for now, the producers told them they would turn them on in the morning. Time passed but Beomgyu couldn't sleep, he felt tired but just couldn't bring himself to sleep, a headache making its way made it harder for him to try and keep this to himself. He glanced over where Taehyun was sleeping, on the door behind them was Yeonjun as well, still, Taehyun was Beomgyu's choice to seek comfort.

"Taehyunnie.." the latter got up as soon as he heard his name being called, seeing his hyung standing beside his bed made him a little bit confused. "What's wrong?" he said as he rubbed his eyes a bit, Beomgyu felt guilty, almost telling him a "never mind" until Taehyun asked again "Are you okay?", at that Beomgyu shook his head.

"I'm not... I don't know what's wrong, I feel so tired and weird but I can't sleep.. I think I'm coming down with something..." Beomgyu sighed, Taehyun got out of bed and instead made the older sit on the edge of the mattress. "Are you feeling sick? Like, maybe I'll have to throw up sick?" he asked as he pressed his hand to his forehead, the older closing his eyes and sighing as he rubbed his middle, nodding after a bit. "I thought I was just feeling anxious about being here filming but.. this feels wrong, I really don't feel good..." Taehyun freaked out, didn't know what to do, so he tried to calm Beomgyu down until he fell asleep, which worked, he talked and talked to distract him from his discomfort and the older could rest for the night.

The next morning Kai was waking everyone up, but strangely Taehyun and Beomgyu were the only ones who felt really sleepy so he let them be. Until everyone else was up, including Taehyun who forgot to explain what had happened last night. Yeonjun and Kai as a prank went to wake him up so they all could eat, but the moment Beomgyu woke up again he felt completely nauseous, "Where's Taehyun?" he asked seeking comfort in his dongsaeng once again. It didn't help that Yeonjun was poking him, so he sat upright with a hand over his mouth and heaved right there and then, his stomach contents falling on the covers, Yeonjun froze and Kai went to get some help as Beomgyu continued to empty his stomach, the older started rubbing his back and trying to soothe him when Beomgyu started crying, he felt awful, even worse when he remembered everything was being filmed.

He retched but nothing came up, he was starting to hyperventilate and Yeonjun felt completely helpless and guilty. "I'm sorry Gyu, really, it's okay, you'll be okay, try to breathe with me"

Eventually the younger calmed down and they had to stop the filming for a while until everything was cleaned up, Beomgyu included, the rest of the members went on with their days and he chose to rest back at their temporary home.

Soobin and him were the only ones left at the house, Soobin reading a book but falling asleep, Beomgyu was starting to feel anxious and queasy again so he went to the terrace for fresh air, sighing in relief as a cool breeze hit him, making him feel better.

Beomgyu stayed there for a while until he felt ready to head inside, looking for Soobin, seeing the older asleep and even drooling on his book made him giggle a bit.

A new wave of nausea hit him suddenly and Beomgyu had to keep his act together until he reached the bathroom, this time having enough time to lock the door, kneel in front of the toilet, contemplate the clean water and taking a few deep breaths before he started throwing up once again. A retch that made his entire body shake brought up more of his stomach contents, some of it making its way through his nose, the gross feeling making him bring up more with a wet burp, the cycle repeating until someone from the production crew decided to check on him.

"Beomgyu-ssi, is everything alright? Do you need anything?" a man knocked on the door, Beomgyu took a deep breath, preparing himself to talk "I'm okay, I'll just... wait here just in case".

And he did that, he waited until his stomach calmed down enough for him to flush the toilet, closing the lid and then resting his arms on top of it, then lowering his head and closing his eyes for a bit. Before he worried the production crew more, Beomgyu got out of the bathroom after washing his hands and rinsing his mouth, deciding to lay down on the couch and sleep, he felt tired, all his energy drained after throwing up again, but strangely he felt better, his stomach didn't feel as heavy and weird anymore, now he just wanted to sleep.

After a couple of hours the members slowly started to return, passing by Beomgyu's sleeping figure on the couch and Soobin quietly eating beside him, everyone gathered there as Beomgyu slowly woke up, asking for Taehyun, the smell of the ramyeon the latter was preparing made him realize he was hungry, at least for the first time that day.

Everyone was happy to see him eating and his face with more color than what they had seen earlier that morning, more cheerful and playful, they couldn't get mad at him after all, they were just happy he was feeling better.

[writing-whump]

Waking up

Isaiah wakes up after the operation. Mention of open chest wound, though not too detailed. Emeto down below.

Matthew sat down on the chair. Then got up just as quickly, barely stopping himself from pacing.

Seline sat straight on the other side, hands next to Isaiah's. She knew he had the operation, she was wrapping her head around the heart problems...but seeing it, seeing him like this, pale, unresponsive, with sterile thin gauze covering the long opening wound in the center of his chest...a gaping long line, like a bloody chasm-

Matthew gulped down audibly, gaze jumping from one corner of the room to the other.

Seline gave him an angry look. "You can't throw up here. If you can't stand it, go away."

Matthew flinched. He flinched almost everytime she spoke to him since the first talk with the doctor.

"No. I-I can take it." The red-haired man set his jaw resolutely, glaring at the opposite wall. After a minute he dared to flick his gaze towards Isaiah again. Like he was building up a tolerance to that sight.

Seline let out a tiny sigh. On some level she relized she was pretty hard on him. Espcially now, when they had bigger problems. But something about her seething resentment towards Matthew held her together. It was an easier emotion to focus on than the breath-taking sense of betrayal or stomach-clenching fear for Isaiah.

Or the horrible guilt in the back of her neck, like pressure gathering that told her this was all her damn fault for not noticing on her own.

For not being close enough, present enough to witness this, to help, to be someone they wanted help from.

Matthew was back on the chair, squirming on it. He braced his elbows on the matrass next to Isaiah taking slow measured breaths through his mouth.

Shouldn't blood be an easier sight for wolves?

Seline didn't know why it didn't bother her that much. There was more of a fascinated distant mortification that was a hole to Isaiah's inner organs, only with a bit of sterile gauze to protect it. She had to actively force herself to look away, cause it kept dragging her eyes towards it like a magnet.

Time lost all its meaning. Bodily functions didn't have any effect on them. There was no way either of them could eat or sleep or leave, and ignoring any tiredness in face of the tension in her back or Matthew's gritted teeth was easy.

This was the most alert emergency mode and it would probably crush them later. But right now the adrenaline was like 10 coffees in their veins.

So Seline had no idea how much time actually passed—it could have been a few minutes or two hours—when Isaiah started shifting around on the bed.

A soft groan escaped him and his eyes fluttered for a minute as he fought the grogginess.

Seline and Matt were both standing by that point, each from one side, breaths held back.

"Isaiah?" Seline called out softly.

Isaiah's face scrunched up, but his eyes finally opened. "Hmm? Where..." He looked to her, then to Matthew, scanning the room in confusion.

His eyes drifted downwards to his chest, the hospital gown, the blanket draped over him, several tubes and IVs sticking out of his hands.

The machine he was hooked to started beeping immediately as Isaiah's breath caught in shock.

Seline's put her hand against his cheek, coaxing him to look up at her. "Hey, hey, hey. Look at me, alright? At me, not there. You are fine, you are safe, everything’s gonna be okay."

Matthew's hand was on his shoulder, applying the gentlest pressure.

"What'-what's-"

"You had a surgery after a heart attack," Seline settled on the truth. "But everything worked out. It was successful. You are okay and gonna be completely okay."

"Why-why is that-" His green eyes were wide and his breathing was hitching from how fast it came.

Matthew grabbed Isaiah's forearm, palm wrapped around his elbow. Isaiah's fingers curled into Matthew's shirt in a vice grip.

Seline mirrored the movement, taking Isaiah's other hand into hers, the other still on his face, stroking gently up and down his cheek. "Shhhhh. We are here. We are here. You will be alright in no time. They are just letting some pressure and swelling up. It will go down and they will stich you up in a few hours. Your shadow will heal everything and you'll be all good in no time."

Isaiah's head twitched in her hand towards Matthew, like he wanted to check it added up.

Seline knew, she knew how close they were, all three together. That this was good, having them both by his side. She had never felt threatened by the closeness Matthew and Isaiah shared. All the experiences and commonalities, the quiet understanding, the open affection.

Now it made her feel like an outsider, disgusting bitter taste in her mouth.

"It burns..." Isaiah said, mouth twisting, looking at Matthew. He was gripping his hand like he was about to break it. "Like silver."

"Yeah, I know, buddy," Matthew said gently, his face drawn in pained lines. "They had to use silver cause your shadow was healing up all they did, even sedated."

Isaiah looked ready to cry at that admission.

"But not the opening wound," Seline interjected. The doctor's explanation ran through her mind nonstop. "Just around the blocked artery. Once they sew up your chest, the anesthesia wears off and you will be able to heal it up with your shadow. It will be just around the heart that will take a bit. But patients after these operations get home quickly, in just a few days after."

Isaiah nodded shakily, his breathing still fast, but not rising anymore. His hold on her hand tightened.

Seline brushed some of the black curls out of his face, then kissed his forehead. "Everything's alright. You are safe. We're right here and not leaving."

Isaiah looked towards the ceiling. "I don't like hospitals," he said, lips twitching in an attempted smile that couldn't hold.

"Nobody does, man," Matt said quietly.

Isaiah swallowed heavily, lips chapped and dry. He squirmed in their hold like he was testing how much he could move.

His body jerked suddenly and he looked down and up again, breathing in deeply.

"Shhhhhh. What is it?" Seline said, trying to catch his attention with her hand still pressed against the side of his face, thumb rubbing up his temple.

"My mom." Isaiah forced his eyes closed than opened them to little slits like the light was too much. "She-she was in a hospital with her heart...send her home and she died of it." The jittery twitchy quality to his movements was persisting, his head flinching towards Matthew. "Am I going to die?"

Matthew paled more than Isaiah's hospital sheets. "No! Of course not. No way we are letting you die, right, Sel?"

Isaiah's eyes went to hers in such fearful hope her heart squeezed, eyes burning. "You are not dying, baby. You are very strong, very resilient. They are taking good care of you."

"We wouldn't let them hurt you," Matthew said in a gruff voice. "Promise."

Isaiah looked towards the ceiling, straining in their hold with involuntary movements. "I want to go home," he said in a small voice.

"We will go home soon," Seline reassured him, leaned down to kiss his forehead. "It won't take long. You'll go to sleep for a minute, your shadow will come back and them you will heal up completely at home. All good."

"We won't leave your side for a second," Matthew added. He was focusing on Isaiah's face intentely to not mind the covered wound. He held Isaiah's forearm still up in the air with one hand, rubbing his shoulder with the other steadily.

"Hurts..." Isaiah whined. A single tear slid down his cheek on the side she was stroking it. "I don't feel good."

Seline thumbed the tear away, pressing her forehead gently to his. "Just keep looking at us, okay? None of this is important. You are okay."

"Want to go home," Isaiah repeated. The coherence was waning, his voice growing weaker. He blinked in exhaustion, another tear coming up.

Seline fought tears of her own with all she had, heart beating painfully against his ribs. She let go of Isaiah's hand in order to push the call button on the side.

It felt horrible, cause knowing he was awake, they would sedate him and check him if they could close the wounds...which was good, but it scared her that he would be closing his eyes again so soon.

Isaiah shuddered as the doors opened, people rushing in. "I don't-I don't want-"

"Just for a bit, buddy," Matthew said softly, cupping the side of Isaiah's face for a second before letting go. "We'll be here, when you wake up. First thing you see, I swear."

When the whole team of people came fussing over, Seline was forced to let go of Isaiah's hand. She never wanted to be a doctor more than in that moment to just know what was happening, what they were doing with the IVs, what they were checking him for.

A nurse ushered them out, saying they were about to roll him away to close the chest.

Seline stood in the hallway a little lost how quickly everything was happening.

A muffled groan interrupted her thoughts.

Matthew was leaning against the wall with an arm, pressing his palm against his lips with a nauseous expression.

He really held out that long for Isaiah, hadn't he?

Seline's heart wrenched at the realisation. She stepped closer, putting her hand on his elbow. "Come on. I saw a bathroom on the way."

Matthew let her steer him away from the wall to the small one-stall bathroom around the corner. She shut the door behind them to give them privacy, glad she could follow him in.

Matthew gagged against his hand, lowered himself down to the toilet in haste and burped emptily over it. "Ugh."

Seline hesitated, but then crouched down next to him as Matt shivered, gagging again. "That was a horrible sight," she agreed.

Matthew hiccuped, burying his head inside the bowl. His shoulders rolled with another empty gag. Then another muffled noise that sounded dangerously close to a sob.

Seline winced, risking to put her hand in the middle of his back. Her eyes were burning and her throat was all closed up. "Just get it up. You'll feel better in a minute. Deep breaths."

Matthew's shoulders hitched, wrapping both hands around his stomach as he heaved and heaved.

It made her suddenly wonder how much of this was Matthew's shadow reacting badly to stress, to having so many strangers around. How much did the pack behaviour play into this? Stressing him about the fact that was their pack leader too?

Shadow wolves weren't good with strained situations, emotions running amok easily. And Matthew's shadow was a hassle on good days.

She rubbed his back up and down gently, then added more pressure, thumping at his shoulder blades.

The motion ushered up a sickly burp and finally a gush of vomit spilled out.

"There you go," Seline said, stroking wide circles on his back.

Matthew let out a whine. His stomach was gurgling so loudly it echoed through the tiny bathroom. His whole back arched into her hand as another wave of sick splattered into the toilet, liquid against liquid.

He coughed against a choking noise before straightening up, nose and lips dripping with saliva.

Seline tore a bunch of toilet paper and handed it over. When he didn't take it, she gently dabbed at his face on her own, then threw it into the toilet and flushed.

"A bit better now?"

Matthew swayed dizzily, grabbing onto the porcelain rim for support. His eyes were glazed over and shimmering with moisture.

Seline made a move to stand. "I'll get you some water."

His hand on her wrist stopped her. Matthew didn't tug at it, just held it weakly. "Wait."

She lowered herself back to her knees with a sigh. "What is it?"

"Just-just stay." He looked away in shame, sniffling. "Please."

Even her anger didn't reach that far. And after seeing Isaiah rolled away with that gaping hole in his chest...

She pulled her hand out of his grasp only to take it properly. A tiny squeeze.

Matthew hang his head, not looking up, his elbow braced against the toilet seat. His breathing was evening out and he didn't seem so nauseous anymore.

Seline couldn't stand that look no longer, reaching over impulsively to wrap her arms around him.

Matthew gasped in suprise before letting himself sink into her embrace. His hands came around her waist, pressing tightly like that was all that he wanted the whole time.

"It's okay. We're gonna be okay," she said into his hair, burying her nose into it. She hadn't realized how much she craved this, how much more complete she felt with Matt pressed against her like this.

They held onto each other in that tiny bathroom, Isaiah's tears fresh in their minds.

[lisupandowntown]

In his head

A/N: I originally set out to make this a big headache fic for Rory but the boy insisted on something softer - what can I say? We'll see more of his and Noa's reconciliation, but mostly as parts of other arcs - I think. Who knows? They're in charge here. No emeto here, but I have a prompt I'll be working on next.

It felt weird to be dating his girlfriend, but Rory wasn’t about to complain. Especially not when tonight’s activity involved ordering from their favorite Thai place and staying in - just the two of them.  It had been his therapist’s idea - and Miriam’s too - and yeah, Rory could sort of see the purpose behind it.  He and Noa needed to work some things out.   If they just let themselves fall back into their old pattern of assuming everything was fine, they’d never learn how to recognize when things weren’t. And if they didn’t know, they couldn’t fix it before things got too bad.  Before Noa had to leave.  

Part of him still couldn’t believe it.  Huge fights and someone moving out were for other couples, not them. It was inconceivable.  

Except it wasn’t, because it had happened.  Ben, Rory’s therapist, had lectured him about that - about how assuming he and Noa wouldn’t have problems was its own problem.  And a big one.  Rory hadn’t liked hearing that until Ben pointed out that Ben wasn’t the one currently not living with his girlfriend.  Ouch. 

And so Rory was going along with the idea of - not starting over - but, reconnecting.  Being mindful about each other and what they needed.  Recognizing that they needed work.  And that included making plans to see each other. 

Still, it was strange.  Noa had her key but she buzzed up anyway, and then knocked on the door like she was visiting and not a half-owner of the condo.  Normally when one of them got home they’d kiss in greeting, or Rory would wrap his arms around Noa from behind and nuzzle her neck, or she’d collapse next to him on the couch and snuggle close.  Now she held out the big paper bag from the restaurant.

“Can you take this? It’s heavy.”  Noa slid her work backpack off her shoulders and onto it’s normal spot on the bench by the front door.  “You ordered a lot.” 

Rory shrugged.  “So we’ll have leftovers.”  As soon as the words were out of his mouth he cringed, because Noa wouldn’t be here tomorrow to eat them.  “I’ll um, pack some up for you.  And Adam.”  He rubbed at his temples, trying to get rid of the stress of trying to do things right.  God he hated this.

“Thank you.”  Noa touched his arm, briefly.  Her eyes were sad. Rory didn’t know whether to be comforted that this was just as hard for her or angry that they had to go through this charade when clearly they both wanted to be together.    

This time rationality won out over anger. Just because they both wanted the same thing didn’t mean they were ready to take it.  That was Rory’s therapist Ben talking, in his head.  The guy had been in there a lot this week. Rory was even getting used to listening to him.

“What’s funny?” Noa looked at him curiously.  

Rory gave a sheepish shrug. “Ben. I hear him yelling at me when I’m not being mindful  About  us.” 

The look Noa gave him made every painful second of therapy feel worth it.  She tugged on his arm.  “Will you tell me? I mean, you don’t have to, but . . .”

“Yes, of course,” Rory interrupted immediately.  “Of course I’ll tell you.  Everything.”  He let Noa lead him over to the sofa.  Earlier he’d put out paper plates and utensils and cups with ice for their drinks.  And there was a little vase too, with flowers he’d picked up at the bodega on the corner. Noa hummed appreciatively.  “It’s perfect, Rory.”  

Her words made him feel oddly off-balance.  Paper plates and takeout was easy.  And Rory got Noa flowers all the time; dahlias and hydrangeas were her favorite. She shouldn’t have to compliment him about it.  

And then there was Ben talking in his brain again. Don’t make judgments; don’t overthink. Just let it happen.  His head thumped uncomfortably, trying to keep track of it all.  

“I’m glad we decided to stay in.”  That was true, and easy to admit.  Noa nodded in agreement.

“We needed this.”  She grinned suddenly.  “And I needed Pad Thai and chicken curry.”  

“And dumplings and satay.” Rory opened up containers.  “I didn’t get wine.  I thought maybe we shouldn’t drink.”  That had been another of Ben’s suggestions. 

“Good idea,” Noa agreed.  She turned sideways on the sofa so she could look at him.  “You had therapy today, right?  How was it?” 

“Hard.”  Rory put down his plate of food.  That was more honesty; it had been more difficult than he thought, talking to a therapist.  When Rory had first called Miriam, hungover and impulsive, he’d known immediately it was the right thing to do.  But in his mind, that would be the most difficult part. First you have to admit you have a problem and all that shit.

He’d met with the therapist three times so far, and every session had left him feeling raw.  Ben had a way of slowly peeling back the layers of Rory’s emotions and exposing the hard truths underneath. It was a lot more painful than he’d expected. 

“Apparently I’m not “engaging in healthy behavior” by worrying about you all the time.”  Rory made air-quotes with his hands.  When Noa looked like she was about to say something, he rushed on.  “I mean, I knew that, of course. Well, I know that. Now.”  He rubbed at his eyes.  Confession time.  “I uhh, I fought him on that at first.”

Noa nodded as if the news didn’t surprise her.  “Why do you think that is?”  

Rory gave a small smile.  “Are you asking me as my girlfriend or my therapist?” 

Noa smiled back.  “Your girlfriend who is a therapist,” she decided.  “And who is also going through her own therapy.”

“Because of me.”  That had been one of harder things for Rory to unpack.  “I knew you were upset, but I didn’t want to believe how much of it was caused by my actions.”  Rory played with the corner of the blanket folded neatly over the arm of the sofa.  On a lot of Friday nights, he and Noa would snuggle together under it.  “I thought it was mostly, you know.  Because you were trying to get past the attack.”  Rory stopped twisting the blanket around his fingers and looked openly at his girlfriend.  “My behavior made that harder.”    

Noa was quiet for a long moment.  Twice, she opened her mouth as if to speak and then closed it again.  Finally, she nodded.  “I almost denied that,” she admitted.  “My first instinct was to tell you that it wasn’t your fault.”  Her lips twisted.  “Every time I told myself that it was okay that you were so . . . that you were just ‘being overprotective Rory’ –” Now Noa made the air quotes - “I got a little bit more . . . frustrated.  I knew why you were doing it, and it had never bothered me before.  And I hated admitting that it bothered me now.  So I didn’t.” 

“Well to be fair, I was a lot worse this time.” “Rory went back to rubbing his temples.  He’d worked a full day before his session with Ben and then come straight home to get ready for Noa.  Therapy was supposed to be cathartic, he thought, but so far it always seemed to give him a headache.  “My entire job involves hunting down and containing criminals who do horrible things.  And I’m really good at it.” 

“You are. You’re the best.”  Noa pushed her leg against Rory’s knee until he looked up at her.  He shook his head.  

“Except . . . except I wasn’t.  Not that day.”  He pointed suddenly at the pillow Noa was leaning against.  “He was right here, in our house.  On our sofa.  On . . . you.”  Rory’s voice shook.  “And I couldn’t protect you from that.  And I should have.”  

“Rory, you couldn’t have . . .” Noa began.  Rory held up his hand to stop her.  It had taken almost the entire hour of therapy today to get him to start to see it.

“No, I know that.  Logically, I get it.  We knew the guy was a creep, but for Nicky to give him a key, and you to be home sick, and him to be totally wasted, and a million other things that made this perfect storm.  I understand all that.”  Rory closed his eyes against the images - both real and imagined - that had been plaguing him for months.  “But ever since I couldn’t protect you then, I’ve been . . . terrified that it would happen again.  And I wouldn’t be there.  Again.”  It had shocked him today, when he’d finally realized that.  Now he twisted sideways to match Noa’s position on the sofa.

“Ben made me tell him every single thing I’d tried to do to keep you ‘safe.’” The air quotes felt ironic this time.  “And then to go through all the worst case scenarios in my head and how realistic it was that they would happen to you”  Rory grimaced.  “Most of what I'm worried about is pretty unlikely.”

Noa smiled gently.  “Anxious thoughts aren’t known for being reasonable.”  She reached for him.  “You’ve got a headache, don’t you?”  

Rory shrugged.  “Kind of, maybe.”  He squeezed the bridge of his nose. “It feels heavy.  Too many thoughts.”  

“C’mere.”  Noa pulled his arm insistently.  “Lie down.”  

Rory had no idea if their new rules of dating allowed it, and he couldn’t have cared less.  As soon as Noa touched him he collapsed into her lap, head shoved into the place her thigh met her hip.  She rested her soft hands on his cheek and forehead and he couldn’t hold back a groan. 

Noa’s weight shifted for a minute.  “Here, you look cold.”  She flicked the sofa blanket over his middle.  “Close your eyes.”  

“Already did,” he mumbled.  Noa’s fingers tangled in his hair and pressed gently against the base of his skull.  “Keep doing that.”  He knew they weren’t done talking, but maybe they could be finished for tonight.  Right now, with the smell of Noa’s perfume in his nose and the soft rise and fall of her stomach where the side of his head met her middle, well, that was enough.  Her thumb brushed across his lips.  

“I love you,” she whispered softly.  

Rory snuggled more purposefully into her lap,  “I love you too.  So, so much.”  And yeah, it wasn’t enough, but it wasn’t nothing either. 

[dutifullyshamelessearthquake]

(Heya, it's Aery)

So Im Not the anon that just sent a generalized 'sick tighnari' recently, but as Ive been casually embroiled in my own sick tighnari writing i Am curious! do you have any major head canons for him?

either for canon or for your modern au

(fun fact! you are the first person with a major modern au in any fandom Ive ever read more than the tiniest bit of bc I usually stay deep in canonverse. it's so good! I just had to gush a bit here ><)

Oh I'll take any excuse to talk more about one of my favourite boys, hehe! I've actually been thinking more and more about doing some writing actually situated in the canon universe, so this is a good opportunity to jot down some headcanons for canon Tighnari! (Don't get me wrong, I adore my modern au and it's not going anywhere, but the itch to write something more canon has recently started poking its head out.)

I did just compile a list of emeto-specific headcanons for Tighnari in my modern AU here, for those who want to check those out!

Also omg that means a lot to me!! I'm so happy you enjoy modern au!! Thank you so much! (Honestly I need to properly name it at some point)

- Tighnari's ears move a lot, twitching at sounds, turning this way and that when he's listening to things, etc. But when it comes to showing emotion, he fights them from moving so freely. He doesn't like the idea of people knowing how he's feeling because of the movement of his ears or tail for that matter. If you catch him actually pinning his ears back or flattening them, you caught him at a really bad time. The opposite is also true, if something made his tail actually wag, that had to be something huge.

- We all like to hyperfixate on his sensitive hearing, but his sense of smell is definitely also spectacular. It's saved him from accidentally eating something that's gone off, multiple times.

- Despite how much loud noises hurt his sensitive ears, Tighnari never covers them with something. Anything that remotely muffles the sound feels like taking away one of his biggest defenses. He simply doesn't like it.

- Tighnari really easily adapts to sleeping in unfamiliar places. Camping out in the rainforest is no less comfortable than his own bed.

- He has excellent night vision, and quite enjoys doing the occasional overnight patrol. But despite having a handful of built in nocturnal instincts, he still prefers to primarily sleep at night and work during the day.

[ethereousdelirious]

Goooood morning, V.ax anon!

This is a little shorter than I wanted, but it's done! I sincerely hope you like it!!!

For the rest of y'all: cw for emeto

Fate— the nature of it…. Ultimate fate, all of them dead. Everyone Vax cared about, one at a time, and he—

He could do nothing but watch.

With last rites still ringing in his ears, Vax jerked awake. Darkness met him, and cold sweats, and— where was Keyleth? He shouldn't be so cold, not if she was there. He sat up, reached out for her, hands shaking�� Yes, there.

Her body heat warmed his palm, but it wasn't as reassuring as it should have been. A wave of nausea and dread washed over Vax and his stomach clenched involuntarily.

“Vax?” The sound of Keyleth shifting against the covers filtered through the ringing in his ears. “Are you okay? You're kinda hurting me.”

“Sorry, Kiki,” he breathed, and clenched his eyes shut against another wave of dizziness. He couldn't… Couldn't catch his breath, couldn't— It was like that first moment after getting stabbed, that little moment between the adrenaline and the pain. This horrible, sickening dizziness that slowly gave way to the narcotic of blood loss. But this wasn't going away. With every passing second, the room still spun, his heart still pounded, and his nausea got steadily worse.

No…

That was going to cause problems in its own right.

“Vax?” Keyleth was holding him now. When had that happened? Then gentle weight of her, usually so calming, was nothing but unbearable pressure on his back, compressing his lungs. He couldn't bear to shake her off so he breathed deeper, faster. “Vax, what's wrong?”

“I, I, ah.” He didn't have the breath to explain himself. “Nightmare.” Another wave of nausea doubled him over.

She stroked his hair, gently, gently. She was always so delicate with him, so light. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Gods, it was… He couldn't stop shaking. “C-can't.”

“What do you mean you can't?” Her hands stilled for a moment and Vax keened at the loss of contact. “I'm going to make a light, okay?”

He didn't care. Gods, he didn't care. Just needed it to stop.

A gentle glow painted his eyelids red and Keyleth made a sad noise at the sight of him. “Oh, Vax.”

“I can't—” he started, and choked on a dry retch.

“Are you— hang on, I'll get a, a bin or something.”

No.

He wasn't going to get sick. He'd ride this out to the bitter end, because he just wasn’t… He couldn't.

“Keyleth,” he choked, but that was all he could manage before another dry retch forced him to clamp his teeth together. Why wouldn't it stop?

“Do you want me to stay?” she asked, touching his arm. He nodded and she wrapped her arms around him, gentle as always. “Oh, Vax, you're shaking. Was it really bad?”

He nodded again. All the fear, all the dread, it had gone right to his stomach, and it seemed his body wouldn't be content until he expelled it. His stomach turned over and his abdomen clenched and Keyleth whispered his name, her fingers in his hair.

“Vax, I think you're going to be sick.”

“No,” he murmured into her neck, a plea for mercy.

“But you—”

He pulled back and looked at her, and a few cold tears ran down his cheeks. “I can’t.”

She cupped his face, wiping the tears away with her thumb.”It’s okay! It’ll just be really awful for a second, and then you’ll feel better. Probably.” Her smile faltered for a moment and she pulled away. “I'm gonna get a bin, okay? I'll be right here.”

Vax’s stomach lurched again, and this time, hot bile teased the back of his throat. “Kiki…” Not a plea, but a warning. “Hurry.”

Denial was clearly getting him nowhere. Vax swallowed convulsively and curled in on himself. Useless tears burned in his eyes. Keyleth thrust something cold and metallic into his hands and he clutched at it, some needlessly ornate wastebasket. The metal detailing stabbed into his palms and tears pooled in the bottom of it.

“I can't,” Vax said, his voice breaking, “I really can't.” His stomach churned in direct contradiction and he choked down a gag.

Keyleth’s fingers spread over his back and she rubbed the length of his spine, neck to waist. “You'll feel better after,” she said softly. “I'll be right here.”

Not forever. Not forever. The Raven Queen had promised, he’d see them all— he’d see all his friends to their graves.

That thought alone was enough to make him gag, and this time, there was no swallowing down the rush of hot bile.

Vax closed his eyes and heaved, coughing on the remnants of his dinner and the sobs clawing their way up his throat between the vomiting. Gods, the way it burned in his chest— the heat of it.

All dead.

Through it all, Keyleth’s clever fingers danced in his hair, drawing soft lines across his temples and scalp, pulling his hair back. “It’s okay, Vax,” she murmured to him, her breath cool on his burning cheek.

He spat and gave a great, shuddering sigh. “Is it over?”

“How do you feel?”

“Not good,” Vax said. But not… not as bad. “Better,” he amended.

Keyleth wrapped her arm around him, pulled him as close as she could without jostling him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Vax took a deep breath, anything to center himself, and the vestiges of bitter bile seared on his tongue. “Could we maybe get some water?”

“Both of us?” Keyleth asked.

Vax nodded. “I don't… don’t to leave you. Don’t want you to leave me.”

Keyleth settled her chin on his shoulder. “Okay,” she said, and kissed his cheek. “We’ll go together “

[am-i-into-this]

So, I'm writing a book!

This is a project that I've been thinking of doing for a while, and a I am currently at the start of a 4 year creative writing and film course, I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to tell you all about it.

It's going to be a collection focusing on paraphilias and sexual content involving them. As someone with a few paraphilias of my own (emeto - vomit and agalmato - specifically dolls) I am aware of how unconventional these are, and as a result, how underrepresented they are in media.

I would like to include:

Short stories involving the fetish (all fictional)

I will try to find a psychologist who specialises in paraphilic attraction to write a bit of information about how they develop and about the paraphilias being discussed specifically

I also may include people's experiences with their fetishes! I for one will be writing a bit about my emetophilia as I have a rather more complicated history with it than agalmatophilia (the story there is I realised one day that I found dolls and statues attractive, and that's just about it)

Basically, I'm here asking for requests! What's an unusual object of attraction that you would like to see represented in a book involving both short stories and information about said paraphilias? Also, if you are interested in any way in contributing (such as a psychologist with this speciality, someone who has a paraphilia who would be alright with sharing some of their experiences) then please send me a message or an ask, and I will reply as soon as possible! Edit: There is now a survey for those who would rather be anonymous, but I would personally prefer to carry this out as an interview as I believe we can have more in-depth discussions this way

Also, for the purposes of this book, I am only going to be discussing legal and fully consensual practices, so if this does not apply to your request, then I am not interested in reading it. (However if you were the victim of any form of assult and you believe that this in some way influenced the development of your fetish, then you can totally talk about that and I will do my best to support you with that when we communicate!)

I will put a list of fetishes that I do not wish to discuss under the cut. Please do not talk to me about any of them as these are my personal boundaries! I will put brief definitions of the fetish next to it in case you aren't aware of what the name means, and I don't censor any of it, so beware of potentially triggering content. I also may add to the list at some point

If you want updates, then I will be tagging all content related to this project as #am I into this?

And finally, I am not an expert on paraphilias, I merely find them interesting as I experience "unusual" attraction, and I want to make something that is content for both enjoyers of fetish content and people who want to learn more about them!

Pedophilia and any of its forms - children

Necrophilia - corpses

Amokoscisia - slashing and mutilating women

Anthropophagolagnia - raping and cannibalising someone

Zoophilia and any of its forms - animals

Biastophilia/raptophilia - rape

Candualism - exposing images of one's partner to another person

Exhibitionism - exposing yourself to unconsenting people

Voyeurism - watching other people engaging in sexual acts, often without their consent

Cannibalism - eating people

Coprophilia/scat - feces

Erotophonophilia/dacnolagomania - murder

Death feederism - feeding someone until they die

Frotteurism - rubbing one's genitals against an unconsenting person

Klismaphilia - enemas

Oculolinctus - eye-licking

Piquerism - piercing someone's skin

Somnophilia (in the context of the recipient being actually asleep and unconsenting) - sleep

Symphorophilia - witnessing or staging disasters such as car accidents

Telephonicophilia (in the context of the recipient being an unconsenting person/stranger) - obscene phone calls

Toucherism - touching an unconsenting person with one's hands

[bellysoupset]

How I organize this blog.

This is a post specifically for writers and kink-writers. I'm gonna be talking about how *I* organize my stuff and a system that I feel works well.

It doesn't mean my way is the only way, but it IS a way I've found manageable and as someone with 200+ fics, being easy to navigate is my number 1 concern.

Under the cut 👇

Tagging system

This is my touchstone, my everything in this blog. I have three "categories" of tags I use.

Character Tag: So I tag my sickee in every fic. JUST the sickee/whumped charcter. I try to use the full name (Lucas Atwood) or the nickname that is easier to come to mind (Vince Monacelli).

Why is this important? One day you're going to get an anon saying "hey I'd really like to read all your fics with John". And then you'll have to go and hunt for all your fics with John. One day you'll be writing something and be like "is Mary allergic to peanuts?" and then you'll want to go back and read just the Mary fics. This WILL happen and you'll be glad you can just click the "Mary" tag and go through all your Mary fics.

Organization Tag: I use #mywriting for every single fic I write, tiny or large. Other tags I also use #myocs for all questions I get regarding them and #ocsfaces for everything I've ever posted regarding their appearance. I also use #meta for everything regarding the act of writing.

Why is it important? Sometimes you'll want to reblog other creators' works or you'll go on an answering asks spree and then suddenly, if someone was to stumble in your blog, your writing is actually in page 3 or 4. This is why #mywriting is important, so people can go straight to that, sorted by the most recent piece. Also, updating your masterlist is a pain in the ass, but tagging is easy. You WILL get asks about your OCs eye color, height, whatever, this is the reason for the other two tags.

Please Notice Me Tags: Well, I write sick fics, so everything is tagged #sickfic, #emetophilia, #flu... etc etc. This is just so other likeminded people will find your stuff in the tag! It can also serve as an organization tag if you remember that you always tag "#stomach flu", but I sometimes flip flop between how to tag each illness so in my case is not for organization, is more for marketing reasons.

Why is it important? Well, you put time and effort into this! You want people to read it <3

-

Pinned Post

This is already common practice around these lands, but here are some things I think are important.

Add your tags (character and organization, only. Not the marketing tags) to your pinned post, so you can easily find them. My pinned post has every character I have tagged, because its easier for ME to navigate my own blog this way.

Please, for the love of god, assign a name to yourself. It doesn't have to be your name, hell it doesn't have to be even A name, it can be "Book/Seven/Cool Dog Name", it just makes it so much easier to interact with other creators when I don't have to call them "kinkmasteremeto102" every time I reblog from them.

Either have your masterlist under a "read more" in your pinned post or add a link to it. I recommend having a link to your masterlist, it has worked to me and this way you can reblog the masterlist without having to reblog your pinned post with more personal info every time.

If there's something you absolutely don't write, don't want requests, this is the place to put it! Make it clear from the get go to avoid exhausting interactions.

In my case I know people mostly come to my blog for emeto, so I mark my fics that have no emeto with **, but that's just personal preference, it doesn't actually make my life easier.

-

Archive

One day, maybe next week, maybe in six months, another tumblr scare "the website is going down" will happen. And then you'll freak out and cry, if you're like me and doesn't wanna lose your fics in case this website goes up in smoke.

I HIGHLY recommend saving your fics elsewhere, as well as tumblr. Not to have a reader base there, just for safety. Here are some options:

Archiveofourown, tagged as original work: it's a fucking hassle to put up, but if you're starting to post works, it's actually very easy to maintain. In my case, with 200+ fics it didn't work bc I didn't have the patience to upload all of them there, but as a creator who still has a small number and working your way up, I think this is a good one!

Google Drive. Scary, I know, because Google is watching over you, but this is the method that worked for me. Here's how I do it: have a google account JUST for my kink stuff, that has no ties whatsoever to my real person. Not the security email, not a similar password, nothing. Only use it in an anonymous tab and then you can use the entire Drive Suite to upload your fics in a big document, your OC info in a google sheet, etc etc.

Waybackmachine. I haven't actually ever used this one, but I know its an internet archive and you can take "snapshots" of your blog, so they're saved there forever. Unsure how it works, though.

----

Oh ANOTHER thing. Always tag your anons if they sign their stuff. I know it's common practice already, but doesn't hurt to reiterate.

If you get an ask signed as - 🙈anon, tag the fic/request/answer with "# 🙈 anon" as well, this way the anon can later easily find their question in your blog. 💛

If anyone has a question regarding this in specific, my askbox is always open.

[crystalsnow95z]

I’ve been curious and meaning to ask, is there a reason you call all the members by their actual names or by a plausible-nickname-sounding stage name in Jin’s case, but J-Hope is still always J-Hope and not Hoseok or Hobi?

There's absolutely no reason why I do this. It just started writing whatever name felt natural for each member, and yet somehow, he became J-hope? Like.. when I talk about him, I call him Hobi or Sunshine only. It's a very good question.

I never call Jin or Hobi by their actual name because I feel like I pronounce them wrong, so maybe thats why it doesn't feel natural in writing?

I thought about changing it to Hobi before and have two drafts with him as Hobi, not J-hope, but I feel like it's too late to change after months of him being J-hope in all my stories.

EDIT:

Here's one of the drafts where he's Hobi.

It's an emeto story so sorry^^,

[compendiumofdecay]

I follow your main blog but EEEEEK I also am emetophobic but I love love your writng

How did you realize writing helped? Was it just through reading other fics and exposing yourself or was it more like a "I need to get over this" kind of thing? Because I considered exposure therapy because it gets really bad for me sometimes where I can't even leave my house.

Thank you in advance!!

helloooo thank u thank u. this is gonna be a loooong post so sorry in advance but thank u for asking!

tw: VENT/LONG POST, emeto, fetish mention, covid mention, mental health, drug & alc ment, health problems, etc!

if anyone ever wants to contact me, wether it's for help or just a listening ear, or even a friend, feel free to message me on my main blog @d1s1ntegrated, or through another form of socials posted on that blog. <3

so i actually figured it out because i stumbled upon a fandom blog YEARS ago (around 2020?) that made really cute art and whatnot, but i realized they were a fetish blog. it was kinda like a car crash, that kind of morbid curiosity, so i went through their "portfolio" and very mildly triggered myself LOL. (out of respect for the creator i will not tag them or mention their name). after that first night, i went back through it and kept pushing myself a bit further, reading and looking at their work/related fics that contained either emeto or other fetish content because it was firstly, fascinating to me. i didn't feel an attraction or a desire for the named fetishes, it was more of a need to understand. i guess my craving for knowledge got the best of me?

when i finally was able to read through the content fully instead of scrolling over it or closing the app once i got to a trigger point, i made it a goal of mine to be able to at LEAST endure emeto content through fiction or digital means.

around the point i had found the blog/started experimenting with fet culture, obviously the pandemic as well as other personal health issues had caused my phobia to surge in extremity. everyone was sick, i had the chance to be sick, the media was jam-packed with symptoms and warnings and news stories. it was a really difficult time for me, and i knew if i didn't do something about it, i would come out the other side even more fearful and worrisome than before.

my phobia started when i was just a wee thing- i was about 4 years old, so i've been struggling with this almost my whole life. i couldn't hear about it, talk about it, see it, etc. if there was a scene in a movie where someone was sick, id cry until someone skipped it. if anyone near me was sick, id run, curl into a ball in the furthest point from the person, locking myself in rooms if possible, hyperventilating until i would pass out. there were numerous occasions where, if i had a sick sibling, id beg and scream for whichever parent i was staying with at the time to drop me off at the others house (yay separated parents!).

there are still points where this will happen to me, even in my adult age. i currently live with my partner, a roommate, and their older family member who is often very sick. i have to have some form of "noise cancellation" whenever they flare up and are sick, otherwise ill just turn into a blubbering useless ball of flesh. it's embarrassing, but also frustrating as its not something i can control.

over this past summer, i went on vacation for a bachelorette weekend. i don't drink, nor do i really smoke- but naturally, the rest of the group did both. it's become a social culture thing, and that's totally fine! i'm by no means anti-drug or anti-alcohol. it's just a choice i make because i prefer to do so. during that weekend, i had to endure probably the scariest form of exposure therapy known to me! one of the girls (and i love them all but fml) went way past her limit on a boat right before we all had to drive back home. she immediately began to be sick, as we got off the boat two girls went to get the car, and me and another stayed with her as she was sick. longest fifteen minutes of my life :) but wait! tis not over. since we all had to take one car, i was forced to sit behind her as she dealt with what i can only assume was acute alcohol poisoning. i was crying, trying my best to not look like a jackass in front of all the other girls. it was so embarrassing, dehumanizing, i felt like a child in front of all of these girls. at one point my nose started bleeding from the stress?? it was a good look for me. so here we are, packed into this tiny little subaru like sardines, sweaty and covered in saltwater while poor girl was fighting for her life in the passenger seat. needless to say, i got out of that car once i was home and collapsed. i was just so relieved to be home and safe, away from any triggers or stress. it gave me nightmares for weeks.

now, i made this blog in december, and this last event happened in august- but since then id been trying to deal with the trauma and work through my mental issues one by one. this blog, along with other forms of self-help (journaling, meditation, etc) have been tremendous in helping me to overcome at least a PART of my phobia.

lastly, about a month ago, my partner had a seizure. he's okay now- but in the moment, i was terrified. naturally, as one does, he threw up- but i knew i had to lock the fuck in. i bit my own fears back to help him and i've never felt more proud of myself. it still keeps me up at night, which is why i've been inactive a lot actually, but slowly i'm trying to come back. but even with the small amount of work i've put in to making myself a bit tougher against my fear has paid off tremendously, because if this had happened even a few months ago, i would've just shut down and panicked instead of being able to help him. i would never be able to live with that guilt or grief. im glad i did it. and im glad i made such a huge step towards battling my mental health.

some days it's easier than others. but now i know that in a crisis, im available and won't turn into some useless jelly form until the perceived danger is gone. it'll take quite some time to be even half of what i need to be, but allowing myself to slowly train and strengthen myself over time is the least i can do, not only for myself, but for others as well. exposing myself to media and content containing emeto has brought me leaps and bounds, and i feel much more secure with myself and less embarrassed for having the fear to begin with.

i want to continue to explore not only with this giant phobia, but also other forms of fetish content. i find that fetish/kink culture is a huge interest of mine, i love being able to experience and understand how different kinks develop, work, and feel for the people who have and experience them. as someone who's dream is to be a sex therapist, i think here would be a good start.

thank you so so much for asking, and i hope this helps a bit. even if just helps to make you feel less alone :)

[gay-for-the-snz]

Day 1: “I’m not hungover, I’m just sick” (Or vise versa) [F, unspecified]

Florence and Rhoda are starting us off for Sicktember <3

F/F, 1.6k, CW for emeto mention (but no actual emeto happens)

⁂

She jerks awake with a start when the alarm clock on the other nightstand beeps, some shrill tone bidding Rhoda to have to get up and get ready for work. And, as such, signaling that it's time for her to get her sorry ass home to do whatever she's supposed to do today. Instead of that, though, she just sinks further under the blankets and whines until the beeping is cut off by a hand that snakes out from under the covers and pats around until it finds its mark.

"Good morning."

She doesn't respond to that, just rolls around a little throwing a tantrum at the fact that she has to get up. It's too bright in here. More than that, she's gonna fucking hurl if she has to get up right now. "It's not."

Rhoda crawls a little closer, pulling her closer and intertwining their limbs, her bare skin still sleep warm. "Mm, not a good morning or not morning at all?"

"Both."

She kisses along her shoulder, down towards her collarbones. "We could make it a good one."

Florence considers the offer, shivering a little at her affection. "I feel like shit."

"You're hungover."

"I'm never hungover. Don't even suggest that, you're insulting me." She grabs the pillow and puts it over her head to block out the light, half smothered by silk. "I'm sick."

She can feel the expanse of Rhoda's hand running over her chest, gently pinching one of her nipples in question of furthering the contact. "Talking dirty to me at six thirty in the morning?"

She slides the pillow over enough that she can turn her head and make eye contact with the woman whose face is only inches from hers. "Not the sexy kind. The 'I might go puke up dinner in your bathroom' kind."

"Ah. You're right, that's not the sexy kind." She sits up, stretches in that way that always makes Florence think of a cat, and lays back down, this time propped up on one elbow, cheek rested in her palm. "So you're just staying here, then?"

"Why would I go be miserable in my own blankets when I can do it in yours?"

"I don't know. Because you don't live on this side of town and I'm not driving you to work tomorrow morning?"

She whines at this, too, burying herself back under the pillow. "Why are you so mean to me? I've never been anything but nice to you."

Rhoda laughs in response, and she can't make the venomous eye contact she wants to from beneath her luxurious hovel. She probably should go home. If nothing else, Rhoda is usually amenable to dropping her off on the way to work--even though it isn't actually on the way at all--and that means she won't have to deal with the bus system this early in the morning, nor later when it gets crowded with everybody else.

But the blankets are so warm and comfortable, and so is Rhoda's body against hers, supple curves and rolls enveloping her in the embrace. "Do you at least have a Gatorade or something for on the way?"

"I don't, but I'll make you some tea for the road if you promise to behave."

"That doesn't sound like something I'd do."

"Then I guess you'll be taking yourself home after I leave."

And apparently that bitch means it, because she climbs out of bed. She can hear her wandering around the bedroom and into the bathroom, and the sound of the shower starting.

This is so wholly unfair.

She crawls out after her, half stumbles into the bathroom and squints against the lights glaring at her from over the sink. She flicks them off.

"Oh, did somebody decide she wanted to play nice?"

"You're cruel to me. Me, your beautiful and fun and sexy situationship. I sneeze on your cunt and this is how you treat me."

"Not last night you didn't. We were barely two drinks into that movie before you wandered off and climbed into my bed." She shuts the water off and steps out, wringing her hair out into the tub. She will never understand how she manages to shower so fast--years of practice, she's said, but it seems surreal that a person could be in and out in less than ten minutes. Sometimes less than five.

"Is this punishment for last night, then?"

"I'm hardly the one who punishes you in this relationship."

"Remember that next time you wanna be a brat."

"You love it." She doesn't bother turning the lights back on, but does take her makeup bag to the other room to use the hall mirror. "Have you given any more thought to our conversation last week?"

"Dude, there's nothing I wanna do less than go to a wedding with you, ESPECIALLY if you're gonna make me pretend to be your girlfriend." The thought of it makes her cringe, and the thought of all the food that's going to be pushed on her makes her stomach turn.

Rhoda looks ridiculous trying to be mad while she's applying mascara, but she makes a good effort. "I can't be the only person at Parveen's wedding without a date. Do you know what they're going to do if they see me single?"

"I don't see how that's my problem."

"Because I'm making it your problem. Because if it's my problem, I'm going to have to field a million aunties and cousins trying to set me up with anybody that's got a pulse and isn't over the age of seventy." She turns to admonish her further, but pauses abruptly. "Oh. Florence, you look terrible."

"Thanks."

"Shut up." She reaches out, and the fact that her hand feels cool on her skin tells her that she's definitely feverish. "You really don't feel well, do you?"

"Like I said, I'm not hungover, I'm sick. You're really going to kick me out into the cold like this?"

"It's like sixty-five outside. It's the middle of August. I think you would survive the slightly below room temperature world outside." She leans down to shake out her hair, settling for a slightly windswept look when she straightens back up. "Besides, I said I would drive you. And I said I would make you tea before we left."

Tea doesn't sound horrible, but she's still not really in the mood for it. Not that she's in the mood for anything, really, but that's kind of the problem. "I guess. Don't you have, like, Pepto or something?"

"What I have is curry leaves, but somebody doesn't like those."

"Listen, I don't make you try Irish food."

"You don't even like Irish food?"

"I fail to see how that has any bearing on this."

"Go get dressed or you're going home naked."

She begrudgingly relents, shuffling off back into the bedroom to gather up discarded clothes from the floor and paw through the dresser drawer she's taken over as her own. "You need to do laundry."

"For your clothes?"

"Yeah." She tugs on an old tee shirt that's far too large for her, and a pair of shorts that are flirting with the line of too small to wear. "You coming over when you get off?"

"Probably not tonight, we've got a project coming up that's already getting delayed because we can't get the fabric in on time, they're back ordered for at least a week. So I've got a week's worth of work to try and get sorted out before it puts us behind enough we can't actually get anything out."

She honestly isn't even listening beyond 'probably not tonight', just letting the sound of Rhoda's voice wash over her. She's more aware than anything of the fact that she's nauseous, and beyond that, that her body is kind of weirdly achey. "Rhoda."

"What?"

"You know you're getting whatever this is, right?"

This might be the first time she's ever seen her grimace in response to the prospect of catching something off of her. "Yeah, I know. I'm not happy about it."

"What, this isn't as romantic as a cold?"

"Not even a little."

She pretends to gag, and Rhoda is already halfway across the room, voice shrill.

"Florence I'm not joking, you'd better knock that off--"

"Okay, okay, chill out." That definitely didn't help the actual nausea, so she was done anyway. But it's nice to make somebody else a little miserable, too. Misery loves company, or whatever the fuck Three Days Grace said.

"You're really close to actually having to walk. If you do that in my car--"

"Your car is worth more than I make in a fucking year, I'm not gonna hurt it."

"I'm serious--"

"I hear you!" And ugh, does she ever. She couldn't ignore her even if she wanted to, the volume is not doing any favors to the headache that's encroaching on her everything. "Do you know where my phone is?"

"Why would I know where your phone is?"

"I don't know, 'cause it's your house?"

"Do you want me to call it?"

"It's on silent."

"Then I guess you'd better get looking, shouldn't you?"

Rhoda is clearly still upset about the little joke, because she isn't actually helping the search and rescue efforts any. She halfway attempts to fix her hair a little while she wanders around, partially out of frustration, partially just because she needs to get her hair off the back of her neck. She's uncomfortably hot and kinda sweaty, and the thick halo of curls resting on her skin are definitely not helping matters.

She finds the long lost phone somewhere underneath the bed, and practically dangles off of Rhoda, holding onto her tightly, fevered cheek rested against cool skin. "Take me home?"

She rolls her eyes, fondly. "Fine, let's go."

[raitrolling]

anyway uhhhhh. scattered thoughts about Spanner In The Works time

the whole idea for this plot started out because when celise last met epsilo he was very close to just straight-up killing them, and while that crisis was avoided i liked the idea of celise dying and getting resurrected due to vernrot's eldritch influence so i decided to roll with that for my own plot

lucy being the culprit just made sense to me given how it is established that he does kill tourists whenever the various entities at vernrot require a troll sacrifice, and then i was thinking Hey What If That Had Consequences

... and also i had that scene where vallis figures out that lucy is drunk because he's listening to his bodily functions using his eldritch senses stuck in my head and wanted to write that. i love vallis' lowkey freak shit

that was. about the extent of of pre-planning i did before writing those five drabbles LMAO most of the stuff came to me while i was writing, or i was thinking about the next drabble while writing the one i was currently working on

lucy wasn't originally going to call upon the horrorterrors to save celise, but something about that moment of being so delirious from blood loss and regret/grief that you call out to anyone who would hear for some sort of solace was really evocative to me that i just had to include it. and it helped tie vallis into the plot for Part 4 even if he was mostly used as exposition

as an aside, i thought it was really funny how vallis talks about being disappointed that celise wants nothing to do with him, only for it to be revealed in the next drabble that they were so out of it they dont even remember him being there

celise is a frog zombie for multiple reasons 1. they are a frog troll and making them more froglike sounded fun; 2. vernrot's horrorterrors tend to warp people by giving them more aquatic qualities so amphibious bullshit made sense to me; 3. i like frogs; and 4. celise fucking hates weird zombies so this was such an ironic and mean fate to give them. id actually been debating for years if celise should have an inexplicable frog tongue mutation because i thought itd be funny if they could just. eat flies out of the air with it, but i always worried it mightve been Too Weird And Gross that i didnt go ahead with it... Until now. if anyone gets weird about it im beating you to death

i genuinely forgot that celise was a vegetarian too, so i had to pivot hard towards them having to deal with the horror of eating meat in After Pain so that ended up a lot more visceral than i initially intended. though i did have to rewrite one part because i got so into writing a contrast between celise's disgust between eating meat and how their new instincts desperately crave it and it tastes irresistible to them now that started sounding a bit vaguely erotic and i went FUCK OH NO GO BACK LMFAOOO. dungeon meshi changed me as a person

but yeah unfortunately for them their diet has completely flipped and they can only eat meat now! they can stomach animal meats fine but it doesn't sate them nearly as much as troll meat does, and for those who skipped the emeto scene the main thing worth noting is that ordinary food tastes rotten to them now. big rip

also the timeline is just vague enough that its ambiguous who left the offering at the end. was it the horrorterrors looking after their newest creation? or was it lucy trying to repent for what he had done to them? vote now on your phones

and i think i made it clear enough, but the thing that the horrorterrors took away from them was their ability to feel intense amounts of anger, which now when they get angry they start feeling really hungry instead. funny how they constantly denied their ability to feel negative emotions and anger to the point where they dissociated themself from the emotion entirely, and once they finally acknowledged it, it was taken away from them and the absence is so much worse. on the bright side, theyll be a little less insufferable to deal with now, so lucy did one thing right by killing them :)

[kartsstuffig]

sorry for all the text posts recently i have lots of thoughts and things to say and no art

hhh

i'm a little bummed about learning about uh

how this place is boutta fuckin crash and die

i don't have anywhere else to fuckin go when it comes to platforms like this

these are like

these are my people these are my select few internet strangers

..hhh

sorry again i just

uugghhhghguhhhhh can't have shit anymore.

i'm gonna go ahead and just dump all the shit but like

first of all one of my old friends that's still with the like entire rest of the group made my ASEXUAL GIRLFRIEND think they had a degradation kink which they do NOT and they said it made them feel like they were gonna throw up and they are EMETO FUCKING PHOBIC and just

hhh

i had to get rid of said friend from my server because of that. it hadn't even been a fucking day.

and i wish i could do more stuff with the rest of my friends outside of discord but i really don't have any kinda motivation to do the stuff they do anymore and i just don't want to but i WANT to want to. and i really wanna be able to talk to them more but they don't have discord and i don't really use what they use anymore.

and im fucking sick. and staying awake sucks. but i can't sleep half the goddamn time because my sisters in the room using my computer and i'm gonna fuck over my sleep schedule

and just

hhh.

and like also just

drama.

drama drama drama drama drama there's drama associated with everything i've ever loved at this point /hyperbole kind of

i liked fnf mods

drama.

i like omori

drama.

i like pizza tower

more drama.

ITS ALL FUCKING DRAMA.

EVERYTHING IS DRAMA. and like yeah i like hearing about the tea but at some point it just AAUUGGHH CAN WE PLEASE FUCKING BE NORMAL.

CAN WE NOT HAVE ALL THIS

CAN EVERY FNF DEV BE NORMAL AROUND CHILDREN

AUGH.

i'm sorry for making you read this just

uugghhhhhhghhhh.

ok.

[imill]

thanos voice: fine ill do it myself

scara/childe emeto/illness hcs

childe:

- gets very sweaty and slow

- a lot of groaning

- literally looks like he’s about to die

- fevers fuck him up because his body isn’t used to excessive heat

- burps a lot but only if he’s alone OR with someone he’s close with (zhongli………..)

- would probably like some belly rubs but wouldn’t admit it

- if he’s nauseous from overeating/drinking/ anything non illness related, he might try to induce

- makes a mess if he’s drunk because he Does Not Care

- you think he’d be good with bodily fluids bc he has tons of siblings but he’s SUCH a sympathy puker

- the type of guy that tries to talk while throwing up (like a fuckin fool)

- drinks a lot of water when nauseous (uh oh, dont piss yourself uwu)

- if he’s alone he’ll try to sleep it off, if he’s with someone or has a mission to do, he’ll try to power through

Scaramouche: (slight spoilers for his story i guess)

- absolutely despises being sick

- gets very irritated/upset

- doesnt want to be touched, ever (except by someone he trusts…..childe….. kazuha…..)

- would never admit it but doesn’t want to be alone

- a tiny, shivering ball of misery with a huge hat

- overloads when feverish: gets extremely shaky and sweaty, twitches a lot, trouble speaking, etc

- is terrified of passing out because what if he doesn’t wake up?

- also insanely emetophobic because he hates losing control

(- when he was aimlessly wandering around as kunikuzushi, he got very sick and thought he was gonna die, which sparked his phobia)

- physically cannot hide it

- his stomach is SO loud

- lots and lots of burps and hiccups that he desperately tries to hide

- gets weirdly emotional because it just reminds him of being controlled by someone/something else

- drools like his vision is hydro

- it literally comes out everywhere, tears, drool, snot, sweat… mans a faucet

NOW LETS GET DISGUSTING BABEY:

Childe:

- a lot of grunts and forced heaves as he tries to get it up on his own

- randomly has to sneeze sometimes while he tries to puke?????

- if he’s drunk/hungover he starts off standing, flexing his stomach muscles and forcing out burps to get it up

- harsh coughs and a lot of,, mucus,,, throat,,, sounds

- (a favoured position: bent halfway over the toilet while zhongli softly holds him by the hips.)

- (was once placed in the shower by zhongli because mans a MESSY DRUNK)

- starts off with lots of small splashes that FEEL like throwing up a lot but are just like. tiny streams.

- if forced: uses 3 fingers and lets it all just splash over his hand, lots of wet sounds, doesn’t take his hand out until something comes out

- if natural: gives up on standing after a while and sits on the floor

- when it comes out there’s no stopping

- like wave after wave after wave and he can’t breathe

- might piss but thats up to you (yes he does bc i want him to)

- always comes out with a ,,, like an “eugh” kinda sound, then turns into forceful gurgling

- lots of empty retches afterwards

- mans so tired now. will just fall asleep on the floor

Scaramouche:

- hiccups hiccups hiccups, he cant stop

- also lots of small burps at first, then just loud gurgly ones that feel like they bring something with them but they dont

- dry heaves a TON

- has a breakdown and a half: crying, breathing fast, just absolute misery

- tries his hardest to keep it in, keeps his mouth closed

- stomach hurty

- struggles a lot when it comes up

- its a full body workout for him ok he’s small

- starts with a gurgly burp and then just projectile vomits

- LOUD sounds. gargling, heaving, you can hear him 3 rooms away

- empty, harsh hiccups afterwards and in between

- stomach gurgles continuously

- touches his chest a lot for anxiety reasons

- makes a mess bc hes scared and shaky and disgusted a

breathes out: my brain is rotting

[drainthebloodbank]

the thing is the other day when we were talking abt emeto and . Well. yeah. i can understand being into the ACT OF IT . i seriously do not care for the substance but the act can really be ummm..again it always comes back down to desperation. the idea of one person being so like deep in a situation and getting so simultaneously turned on and anxious that it makes them physically ill and like convulsing and retching a little bit you know . and the other person just kind of walking a fine line between soothing them and encouraging it like yeah its ok get it out . Its like the holding someones hair back dynamic made sexual

[angstyaches]

Hey! Here’s the headache request #2 lol

Charlie or shayne (this feels more like Charlie to me, but whatever you feel like!) with an awful headache that is absolutely killer, and it’s lay-on-the-floor-of-the-bathroom-with-the-lights-out-and-cool-washcloth-over-the-forehead-time, except the other one doesn’t know that quite yet until they find them in pain and puking their absolute guts up, which cues lots of gentle caretaking, soft comforting whispers, and maybe camping out on the floor together until the poor kid is able to get some sleep and wake up feeling a little better.

Again, I'm so sorry for losing your original request! I didn't quite make it to the sleep/feeling better, because I felt it come to a natural end.

Word Count: 1458

CW: headache, emeto, demon possession, character needs help moving.

___

He gasped deeply, swallowing back a howl of pain. His stomach was lurching under his ribs, unable to still itself under the amount of pressure that radiated from his left temple.

It hurt, it hurt, it hurt so much that he couldn’t believe this was real, he couldn’t believe he’d ever known a time when his head hadn’t felt like it was being drilled into.

With clammy hands, Charlie felt around on the floor for the wet cloth that he’d been holding against his head before the vomiting had set in. It’d been his second course of action, after downing some ibuprofen (which were now swimming in the toilet drain), and before killing the bathroom light. He finally found it and dragged it towards himself, pressing it to his head and holding it up with an elbow on the toilet seat. Usually, he’d have shuddered in dread at the thought of putting a cloth on his face if it had just been sitting on the bathroom floor, but there was no room for pickiness now.

Besides, he was sure the floor had been washed that week. Yeah. Maybe.

An unproductive retch made his throat clench and forced his jaw open. He was almost relieved to think that he was nearing empty; once the nausea passed, he could focus on becoming a reclining statue on the floor again. Most annoying was the fact that the puking was a result of the headache, but was also making it worse.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, the demon CT mumbled, Human bodies make no sense.

“Charlie, you okay?” That was a voice from the real world, specifically from the other side of the bathroom door. “You’ve been gone ages.”

Before he could even entertain the idea of responding, thick chunks rolled up Charlie’s throat and into the water. He dreaded to even begin to think what those chunks once contained.

“Charlie…?”

Before Charlie could protest, CT’s telekinesis kicked it and unlocked the bathroom door. Shit, he thought, flinching at the sound of the door clicking open. He yanked the cloth down over his eyes, desperate to keep his eyes covered.

“Don’t turn on the light,” Charlie hissed, feeling the demon’s energy kicking in to replace that which he’d already lost from his own body. The effort of talking was so intense, like every word was a kick to the inside of his skull with a steel-toed boot. He barely mumbled out a groan as he pushed himself upwards, his whole body thrusting back and forth lightly with the repeated spasms that went through his tummy.

“You’re sick?” Shayne mumbled, clicking the door shut slowly and cutting off the light from the landing.

“Mmhmm…” Charlie reckoned Shayne had figured it out hours ago, despite his best efforts to appear cheerful during the evening. It wasn’t often that Elliott and Felix made the trip out to Mulberry, and the last thing Charlie had wanted was for anyone to be worried about him. “Headache… bad one.”

As expected, Shayne let out a sigh. “You should’ve said something…”

“Please don’t yell at me,” Charlie gasped, saliva running down his chin as he hovered about the toilet seat.

“This is literally as quiet as I can –” Shayne shut himself up with a soft grunt. He knelt beside Charlie. It was obvious that he intended on rubbing his back while he continued to heave over the toilet, but Charlie had other intentions now that his boyfriend was here.

And by boyfriend, he meant human pillow.

The tiles were freezing as he lowered himself to the ground again. He’d sweat so much more since he’d started throwing up, and his clothes were a little damp and felt disgusting against his skin.

He didn’t really care about the rest of his body, though, as long as he could lay his head in Shayne’s lap. Shivers ran down his back, direct waves of tension that trickled down from his skull.

Charlie whined, low in his throat, as Shayne brushed his hair back from his forehead and laid the cloth across it. His fingers moved slowly and gently as always. It was as though Shayne believed Charlie’s skull was made of eggshell, and that it might have cracked and collapsed inwards if it was put under any serious amount of pressure.

Whereas honestly, it felt more like his head might crack from the pressure coming from the inside.

Even as he was lying still, Charlie felt like his head was being wrenched to the side, as though he was nailed to a turntable that was set spinning slowly. Only the sensation of Shayne playing with his hair kept him somewhat grounded, and even that didn’t feel like nearly enough.

“Just cut it off.” His voice was getting higher as time went on, like he was an old tea kettle slowly coming to the boil. “I want it gone, just – just chop it off.”

Shayne frowned. “Your hair?”

“My fucking head!”

“Sssshhhh…” Shayne’s fingertips glided down the nape of Charlie’s neck. In contrast to the light touch, Charlie could feel his own muscles tensing up, hard as rocks. Every inch of his body was reacting to the pain which, in itself, only really took up about one inch of his skull. "It's okay."

“It's not! I hate this,” he whimpered.

“I know...”

A low groan from the pit of his stomach alerted him to the fact that the convulsions were traveling through his insides again, and he choked on a sob. His head was still in pain after laying it in Shayne’s lap, but it was the most comfortable he’d been in ages. He didn’t want to get on his knees again and lose even more of his dinner.

His chest tightened with a hiccup. Shayne cupped a hand around his shoulder, ready to help him back up.

Charlie tried to hum in protest, but squeezed his lips together upon tasting acid on his tongue. His spine jerked him forward, curling him up even tighter. The cloth dropped off of his forehead again, but this time Shayne grabbed it before it could sit on the tiles for too long.

“Charlie –”

“I c-can’t, I can’t sit up!” He clapped a hand over his lips as his stomach clenched again.

“I’m so sorry, Charlie, just remember I love you.”

“Wh-wha –?” The floor suddenly seemed to tilt in the opposite direction, or maybe it was entire fucking planet, because Charlie suddenly didn’t know which way was up or down. He felt Shayne pulling his arm up around the back of his neck, dragging him to his knees and draping him over the toilet seat. Charlie could barely see for the stars exploding in his vision, but when sickly liquid clawed its way up his throat, he heard it hit another body of liquid at the bottom of the bowl. “Fuck…”

“You’re okay,” Shayne whispered, right next to his face. Charlie’s chin was practically resting on his shoulder. His arm was draped over Shayne’s other shoulder, like he was injured and being dragged off the battlefield.

He felt another wave of nausea bubble up under his ribs, his stomach letting out an uneasy gurgle. Charlie shut his eyes as a mouthful of bile stung his throat before cascading out of him. Needles of white-hot pain shot through his head.

A gentle knock on the door sounded like an elephant being dropped on the landing.

“Fuck – what?” Shayne hissed, turning his head to project his voice away from Charlie’s delicate eardrums.

“Is everything okay?” a voice asked from the other side of the door. Sounded like Felix. “Do you… need anything?”

Part of Charlie wanted to beg for some more ibuprofen to kill the agony in his head, but another wrenching pain in his gut told him it wouldn’t stay down this time either. He heard Shayne hesitate, probably having the same realisation.

“Water might be good,” Shayne said back.

“Blanket,” Charlie choked out softly. He had a horrible feeling he wouldn’t be moving from the tiles for a long time yet.

Shayne sighed again, rubbing a hand along Charlie’s spine. “And the blanket from the sofa, Fee.”

After chucking up another sliver of whatever was still in his stomach, Charlie turned his head and nuzzled into the hollow between Shayne’s shoulder and neck. His body would have crumpled to the ground if it hadn’t been practically tangled up with Shayne’s.

“P-please don’leave me,” he mumbled, realising his was slurring his words.

“Love,” Shayne whispered, sighing in the way he did that let Charlie know he’d just said something mildly infuriating. He wrapped an arm around Charlie’s waist and pulled him even closer, taking even more of his weight now that the sporadic vomiting seemed to have stopped. For now. “I’d never dream of it.”