#but instead i was too nauseous from anxiety to eat

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Confessions and Confidences // Nikolai Lantsov

Request: what about a nikolai fic with the "there was only one bed" trope? IM A SUCKER FOR THAT TROPE PLEASE- something like nik and the reader went somewhere like ravka ovest (during siege and storm/ruin and rising) to promote his return and they end up staying for the night in a hotel somewhere but it wasnt the one they made a reservation in so there's only one room. - @the-massive-simp

A/N: Thank you so much for your request! I am so sorry it has taken me so long to write it, but I have to tell you - I loved writing this so much. I hope you like it, and I hope I have done it justice.

Warnings: female reader, pining, mutual pining, lots of feelings, friends to lovers, one bed trope, fluff, cute.

Word count: 2k+

“Tell me how I did… honestly,” Nikolai requests, loosening his tie and rolling his shoulders to relieve the tension that had built there over the last three hours.

The carriage jostles you from side to side, leaving you faintly nauseous as you meet the eyes of the Ravkan prince. A fond smile creeps over your face. “You had them eating out the palm of your hand.”

Nikolai pauses; his fingers a freezing on the tight Windsor knot of his tie. He meets your gaze only fleetingly, but long enough for you to see the insecurity hidden in those crystalline blue eyes. Nikolai returns to his ministrations, fiddling with the navy blue tie as he asks you. “Do you think so?”

He huffs before giving up with the tie. You roll your eyes, scooting forward on the carriage bench, reaching for the wrinkled material. “I don’t think,” You murmur, working on the tightened knot. “I know so. I was in the crowd, Nikolai. I hear every gasp of awe and every hum of agreement.”

Nikolai’s gaze fixes on your face, searching for what he does not know, but his eyes do not leave your face as you battle with his godforsaken tie.

Silence falls in the carriage as you work with his tie, feeling it begin to loosen. A shout of victory rings true when the navy material gives way and Nikolai feels the tie relent. Satisfied, you sit back, crossing your arms over your chest. “I know,” You laugh, “I’m amazing.”

Nikolai snorts, tipping his head in recognition of your talent. “Of course,” He drawls, “I would never have done it without you… or the valet riding in the carriage behind us.”

Pouting childishly, you kick his shin. “Hush,” You say, “You know you would never survive without me.”

“Naturally,” He answers with a coy grin.

You smile at each other; unabashed, joyful smiles that leave your cheeks hurting in a matter of moments. You meet each other’s gaze; a silent battle breaking out over who will break and look away first as the tension begins to build. A tension that had become more and more noticeable over the last few months; feelings that you thought you had long since buried making their way to the surfaced with every touch, every laugh and every glance sent your way by the blue eye prince sat across from you.

You break first, turning your face to stare out of the window. “So,” You state, clearing your throat. “Are we heading back to Ravka tonight?”

Nikolai shakes his head. “It’s far too late and I think we all deserve a rest. I had someone ride ahead to find a hotel for the night.”

“Lovely,” You sigh, already dreaming of the bubble bath that awaited you.

Nikolai laughs, settling further into his seat as he lets any anxieties over tonight leave him in a rush. Instead, he thinks of the warm, comfortable bed waiting for him in his hotel room.

—————————————————————————

The scout Nikolai had sent out earlier meets the royal party close to their hopeful destination. Nikolai thanks the scout, promising him extra money in his wage packet and a day off for himself and his horse to recover.

Shocked by the prince’s generosity, the scout leads the party to the hotel in silence, thinking of what he would do with his newly awarded day off.

As the carriage stops outside the hotel, it becomes clear that it isn’t grand but rather a family run establishment that looks well loved. Nikolai exits the carriage and falls for its charms. He greets the owner with a warm handshake.

“We are honoured for your business,” The owner states, bowing at the waist.

“We are honoured to be your guests,” Nikolai replies, gesturing to you and the rest of the party.

The owner smiles. “I have provided my best rooms, but I’m afraid you may have to share if that is no trouble.”

“No trouble at all,” You smile, seeing the stress leave the owner’s face. “If you would give us the room keys, we can allocate ourselves.”

“Of course,” The owner allows, returning to his desk to find the keys he had put aside earlier.

You turn to Nikolai in the meantime. “How do you want to do this?”

Nikolai shrugs; he goes to speak but is interrupted by his valet, Roberts. “Sir,” Roberts begins, “With all due respect, we have already sorted ourselves out.”

“Oh?”

Roberts nods. “We often have to share on the road so we tend to stay with the same partners. It would seem that yourself and Miss (Y/N) may have to share this time too.”

You pause for thought, glancing at Nikolai. “Thank you, Roberts,” You dismiss with a friendly smile. You watch Nikolai watching the hotel owner hand everyone their room keys before he stops in front of you both.

“Your room key, your highness.”

Nikolai takes the key with a simple nod of gratitude. The owner smiles before departing. The rest of the party have disappeared, noting the time and the early start in the morning.

“Come on,” You murmur, nudging Nikolai to get a move on. “There’s a bath with my name on it and you’re holding the key.”

Nikolai breaks out of his trance, smiling in a way that could disarm entire armies. “Well, we wouldn’t want that. Would we?” He offers you his arm. “Are you sure you don’t mind sharing with me?”

“No,” You answer, fixing him with an unimpressed look. “I don’t mind so long as I have dibs on the bed closest to the window.”

The blue eyed prince laughs. “Deal.”

It’s a short walk to your shared room. Up a flight of stairs and along the corridor to the fourth door on the right. You quash yawn after yawn on the walk to the room, feeling your bones grow heavier as the tiredness begins to settle in. Finally, one yawn escapes you just as Nikolai slides the key into the lock.

“Will I have to fish you out of the bath when you inevitably fall asleep in there?”

You scoff. “Of course not. I’m wide awake.”

“Sure you are.”

“Stop arguing with me and open the door, Lantsov,” You command in time to his laughter.

“As you wish.”

The door clicks open to reveal a small and modest room. The late summer sun bathes the room in a warm light showcasing the bathroom to the left of the entrance, a single cream armchair and a bed.

A lone bed. One bed. Big enough for two, but not what was expected.

You pause at the sight of it. Numerous pillows and a duvet that all but screams comfort and coziness – they taunt you as you know this could be a problem.

“I’ll take the chair,” You announce, hauling your things to the corner of the room, ready to make camp for the night.

“Absolutely not. I’ll take the chair. You have the bed.”

“You’re royalty. Your title deems you to have the bed.”

“I’m also a privateer and have slept on much worse than an arm chair.”

You glare at the stubborn blonde. “It seems we’re at an impasse.”

“I agree. What shall we do?”

You sigh, “Look, I’m exhausted and you’re practically dead on your feet. I’m fine with sharing the bed if you are.”

Nikolai hesitates for a single moment before agreeing. You smile, happy that things are settled. “I’m still sleeping by the window, and I have first dibs on the bathroom.”

“I would expect nothing less,” Nikolai laughs, perching on the end of the bed to toe off his long worn in leather boots.

His laughter follows you to the bathroom where you immediately set the bath running and shut the door. You sit on the edge of the bath, testing the water temperature now and then as you try to calm your pounding heart. It was one thing to share a room with Nikolai, but it was another thing entirely to share a bed with the man who was the main character in your dizziest of daydreams.

Adding plenty of bubbles, you begin to talk yourself through the night. You let it become your mantra as the bath finishes and you undress. You repeat your actions of the evening to yourself as you slip underwater, wondering if it was all going to go to hell in a hand-basket.

Meanwhile, Nikolai undresses before rummaging through his overnight bag to find a pair of night trousers to sleep in. He remains shirtless, knowing he would get too warm in the night. Ready for bed, he closes the curtains and settles under the covers. He fluffs the pillows once… twice… before huffing and getting back out of bed. He paces the floor, back and forth as he feels panic mounting in his chest, rooting there and cutting off his breath. It was one thing to share a room with you. It was another thing completely to share a bed with you. Not when he found himself reaching for you in the middle of the night; not when he wants to be the first and last person you speak to everyday; not when he yearns for you with every fibre of his being.

The bathroom door opens, steam pouring out and Nikolai freezes. You look deliciously rumpled; soft and warm with your skin still flushed from the heat of your bath. Nikolai clenches his hands into fists; resisting the growing urge to pull you into his arms, confess everything and kiss you senseless.

“Aren’t you in bed yet?” You ask, hanging your towel to dry.

Nikolai shakes his head, doing his best to rid himself of the quickening of his heart. “Too much on my mind for me to settle.”

You come over; any of your own anxieties fade as you press a hand to his cheek, seeing the slight panic reflected in his blue, blue eyes. “You were great tonight, Nikolai. A true Ravkan prince. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Thank you,” He whispers, leaning into your touch.

“Let’s go to bed,” You say, a tired smile on your face as you pull away from the blonde, leaving him cold from the lack of your touch.

Doing your best to quash any butterflies, you slide into your promised side, letting out a moan of comfort. “This has to be heaven,” You announce sleepily; the words drowned out by a yawn.

Nikolai chuckles, sliding into bed next to you, finding it much easier to settle with you beside him. He fluffs the pillows, plumping them so they sit better under his head, and waits for sleep to come.

He waits and waits. He feels tired; he feels the weariness sitting upon his shoulders and his eyes want to close but they remain open, staring at the ceiling. “Are you awake?” He asks the darkened room.

Your sigh breaks through the room. “Yeah,” You answer, a slight tone of frustration to your words. “It’s as if I am so tired that my body won’t settle, and my mind won’t shut off.”

“I understand that all too well,” Nikolai sympathises, turning on his side to face you.

“Something you experience often?”

Nikolai nods, humming in agreement. “More now than before,” He explains softly. “It used to happen when I was away; my mind would be too loud, but I would go out on deck and stare up at the sky and watch the stars as they blazed their path across the sky. Instead of focusing on whatever what bothering me, I would think of the stars and what their paths would hold. They were directing us somewhere, but to where?”

“And what about now?”

He sighs. “And now I feel pulled in a thousand different directions. The role I play within my family and the role of Sturmhond…”

“You are beloved either way, Nikolai.”

“I don’t want to let anyone down.”

“You couldn’t. I was in the crowd tonight, Nikolai. I heard the whispers between couples and families; they were all in support of you. They agreed with your motivations, they loved your presence. If they could have you for themselves, I’m certain they would. I know there were a few ladies in the crowd willing to try.”

“You always know what to say…” He croons.

“I know you, Nikolai.”

He smiles; bright and true. It lights up his face, only enhancing his handsomeness. It makes your heart skip a beat. “Now, tell me about the ladies wanting me to themselves.” He chuckles, enjoying the slight boost to his confidence.

You huff, crossing your arms across your chest. “I shan’t. I’ve done enough for your ego for one night, I think.”

Nikolai splutters, incredulous at your refusal. “But… But…”

“Nope.” You refuse, shaking your head.

A smirk grows on his face; he leans closer to you before stating, “I understand now… You’re jealous.”

“Jealous?!” You cry, annoyed at how quick he hit the nail on the head. “I am not jealous.”

“Yes, you are. You’re jealous.”

You huff, casting your gaze to your lap, overcome with your feelings. It was all becoming too much; loving him from afar. Hearing the young women tonight, listening to how attractive they found Nikolai and how they believed they would make the right match for him. It hurt; it hurt hearing it and knowing that deep down it was true. Nikolai would find someone and love someone and marry someone who wasn’t you, and acknowledging that hurt more than anything.

“Hey,” Nikolai prompts gently, “I’m joking. I don’t expect you to be jealous. I’m sorry if I’ve gone too far.”

“But what if I am? What if I am jealous?” You breathe, your heart beginning to pound at your candor. Throwing caution to the wind, you meet his stare, seeing the understanding land there in the slight raise of his brows and turn of his lips.

“Well…” Nikolai begins, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I would have to tell you not to give it a second thought. There’s nothing and no-one to be jealous of.”

“Oh?” You whisper, feeling hope begin to bloom in your chest.

His thumb brushes your cheekbone as he hums in response. “You have nothing to be jealous of. I’ve been yours for a while now.

“Mine?”

Nikolai nods; his blue eyes no longer clouded with panic, but clear with intent and starting to brim with hope. He presses a kiss to your cheek; quick and fleeting. “Yours. I think I always have been.”

“I think I have always been yours too.”

“Thank the Saints,” Nikolai breathes, relief written clearly on his face. “It would have been awkward if this was one sided, love.”

“Oh Hush!” You laugh, nudging him slightly.

Nikolai grabs your arms, pulling you into an embrace that feels like the beginning of everything. You settle into him; your face pressed against his bare shoulder, inhaling the all too familiar scent of his cologne - oud with notes of vanilla.

A kiss is pressed to the top of your head. “We’ll talk more in the morning, but I want you to know that I’m eternally grateful for one bed.” Nikolai murmurs, promises ready to be made on the tip of his tongue.

You kiss the junction between his neck and shoulder, humming your agreement before sleep finally claims you both, deep and dreamless and in anticipation for what the morning holds.

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lanstov x reader #nikolai x reader #nikolai lantsov imagines #nikolai lantsov fluff #nikolai lantsov fanfiction #shadow and bone fandom #shadow and bone fanfiction #six of crows fanfic #fluff

[winterrrnight]

roller coasters

PAIRING: soft!rafe cameron x gn!reader

SUMMARY: you're deeply scared of roller coasters and are forced to take a ride on it. Rafe is there waiting for you, ready to take care of you once you get off.

WARNINGS: anxiety, throwing up, gets fluffy towards the end

EDITH SPEAKS: this is small, more or less like a blurb. I wasn't sure how to end it so I hope it isn't an abrupt ending? Anyways, I'll be writing for soft!rafe because he has my whole heart 🫶🏻

Please like and/or reblog if you enjoy it! Feedback is always appreciated 🌟 requests are OPEN, please send in some ideas :)

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Sarah grabs your hand and pulls you inside the amusement park. No matter how many times you say you don't want to get on the 'death ride', Sarah completely ignores you. Before you know it, you both are standing in the queue for the 'death ride'.

The roller coaster.

"Sarah come on I don't want to get on this ride!" You groan, trying to convince her to leave the queue and do something else instead.

"Come on, be a little bold! It's just a little ride!" Sarah says. The queue moves on ahead, and now it's your turn to get on the ride.

I'll be fine, I'll be fine, I'll be fine, I'll be fine. You repeat in your head, over and over again. It's just an amusement park ride, it cannot hurt me the way it used too.

You and Sarah are made to sit together in a seat. A worker comes and straps both of you in. You grip onto the rod in front of you so tightly your knuckles turn white. You feel your heart beating faster by each second, so you try to make yourself feel better by taking deep breathes.

"Are you... are you okay?" Sarah asks, concerned. You look at her with a deadpanned look on your face. She just realised you don't like roller coasters, even after you practically begged her not to take you on it?

"No I am not, Sarah," you say with gritted teeth. "The ride makes me-" Before you can finish your sentence, you are cut off with the creaky sounds of the roller coaster.

It is just about to start to move.

You hold onto the rod impossibly tighter and the roller coaster begins to gain speed. You see Sarah with a massive smile on her face, as she screams from the adrenaline rushing in her veins.

You will be screaming too.

Not from the adrenaline rushing in your veins, but from the contents of what you ate in lunch rising up from your stomach, to your mouth.

You shut your eyes tightly and just hope it comes to an end very soon. The roller coaster starts to slow down, and you feel hopeful that it's coming to an end as you open your eyes back again.

Oh, how wrong you are. How horribly wrong you are.

The ride has slowed down because it's about to go down the massive loop. You brace yourself as the ride inches closer and closer to the end.

"WE'RE ABOUT TO GO DOWN!" Sarah screams next to you.

And that's when you feel it. The contents in your stomach start churning and they are ready to come out at any given time. You just can't believe you came on a roller coaster, a ride which makes you extremely nauseous.

The first time you ever went on a roller coaster was when you were 7 years of age. You didn't stop puking after you got off the ride. After that, you vowed to never step on this ride and dubbed it as the 'death ride'. But, for some reason, you had a feeling you will not feel nauseous again, that maybe it only happened when you were little and had too much to eat.

But no, you get nauseous each time you step on this ride, and today has proved it.

The ride comes to an end and you basically yell at the worker to unstrap you quickly. Sarah has no time to catch up with you as you go running to the washroom.

You run past Rafe, who was just thinking of getting you some cotton candy. He's perplexed to see you running so frantically, with such a pale look on your face. He finds Sarah and questions her about you.

"What happened?" He asks. Sarah is panting heavily from all the running she did in an attempt to catch up with you.

"Roller coaster... queasy... about to throw up," she says, her breathing heavy as she leans next to a popcorn stand to catch her breathe. Rafe's eyes widen on her words and he rushes to the washroom, but stays outside to wait for you.

Meanwhile inside, you've hogged a bathroom stall as you let all the contents spill out. Once you feel everything in you has made its way out, you flush the puke and get out of the stall.

You walk to one of the wash basins and open the tap. You wash your face with the cold water and then rinse your mouth to rid yourself of the horrible taste. You take a second to breathe and look in the mirror. Most of the color is drained from your face. Your eyes are watery and a little red, and you feel like your skin is on fire. You stay in the washroom, just simply taking in deep breathes. When you think the color has started to return to your face, you decide to leave the washroom.

As you walk out of the washroom hurriedly, eager to find Sarah, you are met with a broad chest. You let out a small groan, but when you open your eyes you see it's no one other than Rafe.

"Oh Rafe, hi," you say with a smile.

"Are you okay?" He asks, concerned. "I saw you running down to the washroom and Sarah told me that you're feeling nauseated-"

"Yes I'm fine, don't worry about it." You assure him. At this point, there is no denying how you've been in love with Rafe since you've been best friends with Sarah and that means you've been in love with him since forever.

And Rafe, he cares so much about you. He can't see you hurt. He will protect you against everything horrible in this world.

"You sure? You still look a little pale," he walks closer to you and places his hand on your arm, and rubs it up and down. Th soothing motion relaxes you immediately. "If you want, I can drop you home. You can rest, and I'll bring you everything you may need to feel better-"

"Rafe," you cut him off, your hands now holding his face. "I'm okay, seriously. I want to explore more around the amusement park."

Rafe swallows the lump in his throat, a champagne pink suffusing in his cheeks from the warmth of your hands. "Okay," he says, and you bring your hands back to your sides. He instantly craves that touch back again. "I think Sarah is out there in the food stalls, shall we go there?"

"Yes," you smile, "let's go there." You reach for his hand, and ever so delicately, lace your fingers with his. You give his hand a tight squeeze. "Thank you for waiting for me."

"It's no problem, really," he tells you, and you both walk to the food stalls in the amusement park.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @ragingsammie

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #drew starkey #drew starkey fic #sarah cameron #outer banks #obx #kooks #obx kooks #written by edith! 🪄

[dearestmui]

can u do mui x demon! reader?

like, with the same plot the first 2 (?) episodes have where tanjiro comes back and finds nezuko as a demon, but with mui and reader

also (this is optional) reader is hesitant to hurt mui

TURNED INTO A DEMON

Summary: Muichiro comes home to you, only for you to be turned into a demon. Cw: graphic description, mentions of anxiety and vomitting Pairings: Muichiro x demon reader. Additional tags: no manga spoilers. muichiro without amnesia. he's not a demon slayer yet. can be interpreted as platonic or romantic. angst to comfort. Things are slightly altered in Muichiros backstory Word count: 1785

You ran away from home and formed a close bond with the Tokito twins. Unfortunately, the older brother died after an attack from a demon outside your home, and the lady who used to visit you to recruit the twins as demon slayers stopped visiting, which left you and Muichiro alone. You and Muichiro have been living together for awhile now, and it's been tough since Yuichiro died. While you were in charge of everything inside the house, he'd go out to gather materials such as wood and food.

Every time he goes out, you feel a strong sense of anxiety bubbling in your stomach, almost making you want to vomit. The thought of him leaving and never coming back haunts you until you hear the door opening again. Only then could you find a brief moment of relief until the next day when he had to go out.

You never thought that one day, the door opening would not be Muichiro

"Okay...." Your voice sounded like that of a sad kitten's. "Please come home safely, and don't take too long..!!" You hesitantly replied. Absolutely hating this time of day, you could feel yourself getting nauseous from the anxiety again.

"Y/n, I'm going to the village. Our food supply is running out." He told you. It was winter, so you couldn't grow crops. Instead, you relied on selling wood to buy ingredients.

Muichiro simply let out a hum and stepped out.

"I love you!" You'd repeat this phrase everytime he steps outside the door. To which he would simply reply with a hum of acknowledgment. He never repeated this phrase back, afraid that if he were to love someone, they'd disappear just like his mother, his father, his precious brother..

Ever since the death of his brother, Muichiro wasn't as energetic as he used to be. He knew he still had you to take care of, though. So no matter how depressed he was, how many times he wanted to give up, he needed to stay with you. He never understood that everything he did for you was out of love, because he'd do them without thinking much of it. It was something he did as If he was programmed to do it

He loved you so much he'd do anything for you without hesitance

It took longer than usual to get to the village. The deep thick snow reaching slightly below his knees made it hard to move. Him carrying wood on his back didn't make it any better. Luckily, at this season it was easier to sell wood for people who wanted to warm up their home.

When he arrived at the village, he was warmly welcomed by the locals.

"Muichiro! It's good to see you again!" They warmly welcomed the young boy. People started to call out for him to buy his wood. The villagers knew about Muichiro's situation, since they were close with his parents. So they always tried their best to support him.

Around evening, he managed to sell most of his wood, and traded the rest for ingredients. Having everything he needed in a bag, he was ready to come back home to you. Muichiro started to walk to the village exist, until a man — who Muichiro assumed was in his mid-twenties, came up from behind and stopped him. This man wasn't a stranger, Muichiro has sold plenty of wood for him before. Muichiro looked up at him, a curious expression on his face.

"You shouldn't be out this late kid, there are man eating demons roaming at this time of night." The man said, concerned about the child Infront of him. "Come stay at my house until the sun rises again."

Muichiro was fully aware of the man eating creatures wandering though the night, however-

"I have someone waiting for me back home."

"They will be fine." The man insisted. "If you want to go back to them in one piece, then wait until sunrise."

Muichiro sighed. The man was right, he couldn't let you suffer the pain of losing someone again. He had to come back to you safely, even if it meant to worry you for the whole day.

"Alright," Muichiro declared. "But I'm leaving early in the morning."

"Do whatever you want, kid. Just make sure the sun is up."

After that, they went to the man's home. He was kind of to give Muichiro a meal before bed, though he felt bad about eating it without you. While he had a feast with udon, you had to survive off of plain white rice for today. He made a silent promise to get you delicious food when he gets back.

After that, Muichiro went to lay down in the futon the man set up for him. His thoughts of you were almost drowning him.Are you crying? Are you vomiting? Are you going outside looking for him? Will you be able to sleep? His questions won't be answered until tomorrow morning. He engraved it in his mind to wake up as soon as possible, and to get good sleep so his way back won't be exhausting.

The next morning, he woke up so early that the man who took him in wasn't even awake yet. The whole village seemed to still be asleep, actually. Except for the shopkeepers who were getting ready to open their stores. It was cloudy, but there was light. And that was enough for him.

Muichiro quickly, but quietly as to not wake the man up, put on his boots and jacket to immediately get back to you.

"...Thank you." He whispered to the man; who was still sleeping, before going out.

Fortunately for him, the snow did slightly melt, now only reaching to his ankles. He ran home to you, beyond worried. He wanted to show you that he's safe, that he's okay, how much wood he managed to sell. He started to see his house from a distance. The closer he got the more excited he was to tell you, to make you warm delicious food.

Until, he got close enough. That's when he realized the door was open.

Something is wrong, the door shouldn't be open. He stopped running, fear creeping through every inch of his body. Has something happen to you? He walked towards the open house; the distance not being too far.

"Y/n?" He stuttered. Clutching onto the bag of groceries before entering the building.

His eyes widened at the site before him. Immediately dropping the bag, everything spilling on the floor. Your lifeless body laid out on the floor. You were severely wounded; deep cuts all over your body. Chunks of flesh on your arm looked like they were bitten off, like someone was eating you. Your empty eyes were staring at him, the scene reminded him of his brother. There were maggots coming to eat your flesh on your body. It was a disturbing site, an image that will forever haunt him.

Muichiro couldn't scream, no matter what he couldn't let anything out. He was completely frozen, just staring at your body. Until, he saw a slow rise of your chest.

"...!!! she's breathing!"

he quickly went to your side, sitting you up then wrapping your arms around his shoulders and putting his hands below your knees to be able to pick you up on his back.

"Stay with me, please. I'm sorry."

Your body was cold, so cold that when your hand touched his it made him shiver.

"Will I even be able to get them to a hospital at this state?" He asked himself, but he couldn't lose hope. He had no time to cry, he needed you to get medical attention asap.

Your blood smeared on him as he jogged through, the forest towards the village. towards the village, the cloudy weather and the big trees shading you both.

"I love you, I'm sorry." He sobbed out, finally saying the phrase he had refused to say. But why, did he have to say it when you couldn't hear him? When you were in brink of death? "Why, why did this happen? You took my older brother, please don't take Y/n too." he kept muttering out apologized, till he got interrupted.

Muichiro felt you moving behind him.

"Y/n?"

One of your legs kicked his back, causing him to fall onto the ground with a grunt and releasing his hold on you. The cold snow was stinging his face, he quickly sat up and looked at you. There was a fair distance between you both.

Your injuries were healed, and limbs spread apart; You were standing in a position like you wanted to attack him. You were breathing heavily, and he could see your sharp fangs. You glared at him, but didn't dare to move.

Muichiro stood up, and your eyes followed his every move. He couldn't believe what he was seeing... He slowly reached his arm out to you, tears threatening to falling from his eyes.

"Y/n.." He choked out. He felt like he was suffocating, like his head was held down underwater. The harsh winter air stinging his lungs everytime he inhales. He couldn't take it, his tears now rolling down his cheeks. You were a demon now, and he knew he had to do something. But he didn't want to hurt you. He couldn't hurt you.

Seeing Muichiro's pained face lit a fire in your heart. Even in your demon state, it hurt you to see him like this. Your face softens, and so does your porsture as you begin to tear up. He slowly walked up to you and wrapped his arms around you, hugging you. That's when you started to cry. You rested your head on his shoulder and sobbed, you were scared, you didn't know what to do. You turned into a demon; does that mean you have to die now? You were too scared to say anything, so you just let it out on his shoulder

"I'm sorry, I love you." He told you inbetween his shaky breaths, not missing the chance to tell you this when you were awake, when you could hear him say the words you've always been anticipating.

Neither of you noticed the presence behind you.

It was Lady Amane, the woman who used to visit the Tokito twins during summer. She came to try recruiting both again, unknowingly to her that one of the twins is dead. On her way here, she saw Muichiro carrying you and witnessed the entire scene unfold in the forest. She determined that despite being a demon, you were different. You were hesistant to harm Muichiro, someone who you loved dearly. Other demons would've eaten anyone infront of them, but not you. She approached both of you, willing to welcome you into the corps. And she hopes that one day, you will be able find your humanity again.

Do not repost

A/N: Not my best work aha,, I don't like this one.

#muichiro x y/n #kimetsu muichiro #muichiro x reader #demon slayer muichiro #muichiro tokito #kny muichiro #muichiro x you #kimetsu no yaiba x you #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer x you #demon slayer x y/n #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader

[redriotinggg]

related to Sanji and Usopp taking care of Zoro when he pushes himself too hard in a fight- do you think there are specific times Zoro and Usopp take care of Sanji? Or Zoro and Sanji caring for Usopp?

extra: Does the care for each person change based on what they need or generally stay the same? Is there stuff that works for one person that doesn't work for another/makes things worse for another? (Ex. Maybe Zoro loves having comfort food, but when Usopp's worried out of his mind he's way too nauseous to eat)

Once again, I have So Many thought about this so thank you for asking!

Sanji and Usopp both have attachment issues related to fears of abandonment and loneliness. Physical touch and verbal reassurance that no one is going anywhere or being left behind are the best ways to help calm them down.

Usopp was always prone to nightmares, but after Boin they get really bad. He often wakes up panicking and feeling the same type of fear he felt during those two years of constant fighting for survival. He often wakes up trembling, thinking that he’s alone and wondering if it’ll be the day the island makes a meal of him. It can be really hard to get through to him and bring back to reality. When he gets like this, talking to him only overwhelms him—makes him think he’s hallucinating like he did on Boin sometimes. Instead, they just stay in his line of sight and provide him with a grounding touch until he comes back to himself. Lots of kisses and cuddles ensue afterwards, and Zoro and Sanji are sure not to leave him alone through the day.

All three of them overwork themselves all the time so they’re often helping someone relax and/or get out of the negative space that might’ve caused them to overwork in the first place.

Sanji’s partners knew before they started dating that he is chronically allergic to taking it easy and it only got worse when they got together. As their boyfriend, it’s his duty to wait on them hand and foot. It’s his responsibility to put their needs before his own. If he doesn’t, then he’s failing them. Gently, they remind him that he doesn’t need to earn their love—he already has it and always will. Zoro and Usopp have learned that forcing him away from his work only causes Sanji more stress and anxiety, so they simply keep him company and massage his tense muscles when he finally allows himself to rest. They also make sure that he cooks himself something he enjoys so they can feed him and ensure their chef is well-fed and cared for.

Usopp gets stressed out when he feels like he isn’t contributing enough to the crew. The days where he wakes up anxious and paranoid. When he can’t seem to catch a single fish, successfully make any new ammo, or make progress on his inventions. When he tries to hide away in shame and self-punishment, his partners remind him that his value doesn’t lay in his contributions or what he can do. They distract him by retelling stories from their past or attempting to make something up on the spot.

Words are hard for all of them, sometimes. Sharing their feelings or hearing reassurances can be overwhelming for each of them. But physical touch—kisses, bone-crushing hugs, gentle hands cradling faces or carding through hair—are almost always welcome and make them all feel loved and appreciated.

“I wanna be alone.” TOO BAD. If anyone is sad or overwhelmed, they’re getting company. Whether they end up talking it out or sitting together in silence, no one is allowed to sit and wallow in their thoughts by themselves.

I’d definitely agree that food is always a way to comfort Zoro but may be too much for an anxious Usopp. They’re all pretty good at knowing what each person needs depending on what’s wrong.

NSFW: the sweet treatment Zoro gets after a tough battle is often accompanied by loving sex with his boyfriends, where they whisper to him—complimenting his muscles and physical strength, kissing over each and every scar and thanking him for his constant sacrifice. It always leaves him satisfied and reassured.

NSFW: dom!Usopp usually comes out after Sanji and Zoro have exerted a lot of mental and physical energy in a fight. He takes the lead and gets them to stop thinking and empty their heads, giving them both exactly what they need and letting them come back to the crew refreshed.

That’s all I’ve got for now, thanks again for the ask!

#zosansopp #zosanuso #sanuso #zosopp #zosan #one piece #red’s asks #can i say again that i care them so so so much

[mechformers]

Could I request spider x gn reader where reader as general anxiety and was human but got put in an avatar body indefinitely because they were dying it traumatised them and sometimes they dissociate a bit because of it and when they get kidnapped they get really anxious and stressed and they stay close to spider but when they get separated they stay closer to quaritch due to him reminding them of spiderthey self sooth by sucking there thumb, if it could just be fluffy please, thank you hope you have a good day/night

Absolutely! Thank you so much for your request <3

I don't know if this is anything close to what you had envisioned when sending your request, but it was so much fun to write. The reader maybe reads a bit more traumatized than what you asked for, but their dynamic with Quaritch was just too good to lose out on, so... <3

You're alright, kiddo...

2074 words

SFW / Platonic Spider & gn!Reader + Quaritch & gn!Reader (blink and you’ll miss it Sider & Quaritch) Tw: gn!Reader, terminal illness before being transferred into an avatar, anxious reader, PTSD, thumb sucking as self-comforting, disassociating, selective mutism, food/eating, Quaritch is soft and kind to the kids (fight me lol)

You didn’t know what hit you when all of a sudden, your queue was grabbed hard and you were pulled backward. The Sully kids and Spider all screamed and hissed as they too were taken, but as you were all forced to your knees, all you could focus on was the huge man that sauntered into the little group, his sneer sending chills down your spine. You try your best to stay quiet, to cooperate, just like Jake Sully had always taught the kids to do, but you could feel yourself slipping. 

“What’s wrong with…” The big man, the Colonel, asked the Na’vi behind you when you started shaking. 

“Them,” Spider barked, fighting the hold on his own hair. 

“Uh-huh…” The Colonel hummed lazily, “What’s wrong with them?”

“They’re afraid, alright, so step away and give them some space already,” Spider sneers back, still fighting his hold. 

“Nice try, kid,” The Colonel huffs before turning his back on you to focus on Lo’ak instead. 

You don’t register what’s being said or what happens. The only thing you know is that it’s getting darker and then, Neytiri calls out to her children. Relief floods you as you realize that you’ll be saved, that you’ll get to sleep in your own nest and be with your own people. The next thing you register is running as loud noises and flashes of light bombard you from all sides. Neytiri and Jake are both shouting, and the Colonel answers them with a cold chuckle. Your hand is grabbed hard as Spider pulls you along from your cowering position by a tree, the undergrowth disappearing quickly as you get to higher ground, seemingly running for your life. There’s a loud noise behind you, a flash of orange light, and then everything goes dark. 

-

“Y/n? Y/n, are you alright?” Spider’s voice calls to you, but your ears are ringing so loudly, you just whine in response. 

This was easily ten times worse than waking up in your new avatar body ever had been. The memory, however, still makes you nauseous. You had never wanted to be transferred into this avatar body, yet, here you were while your own body was somewhere else entirely. Maybe you should have been happy that you got this second chance, but living with the Na’vi, with the scientists, after you were abandoned on Pandora, was anything but easy. You didn’t quite fit into the Na’vi way of life. You were weak, quiet, anxious… Yet, somehow stuck there with them all.

“Hey, Y/n, come on back to me,” Spider urged, making you open your eyes, only to quickly close them again. 

The lights were so bright in the room you were in, the floor cold and rough against your skin. You didn’t know how long you had been out or how much time had passed since you were taken. The only thing you knew was that Neytiri and Jake weren’t here, that this wasn’t home or anywhere close to it. You were sitting below a huge table with Spider, the older boy holding you close as he tried to connect with you. 

“Listen up, kid,” The Colonel hums as he steps into the room, the massive glass doors swishing open and then shut, “The deal is this; we gotta learn how to do this Na’vi stuff. Now, I know you said you won’t betray the Sullys, and I respect that. But I need an answer,”

“What if I don’t have an answer for you?” Spider spits back, the distaste so clear in his voice. 

“Then I gotta give you back to the lab coats,” The Colonel drawls before pinning Spider with a look, “They’re asking for you both this time,” 

“Guess there’s not much of a choice then,” Spider huffs angrily as he crosses his arms above his chest. 

“Guess there ain’t,” The Colonel smiles smugly before mirroring Spider and crossing his own arms over his chest. “So who’s your friend there?”

“They’re one of the orphans from the village,” Spider starts, stepping before you to block the Colonel’s way. “Their body got sick some years ago, so the scientists made them an avatar so that they could survive,”

The Colonel hums before sucking his teeth, his crossed arms shifting his hold before he looks past Spider to where you still sit under the table. His eyes make your skin crawl with the way you feel as if he sees straight through you. The need to be closer to Spider, closer to someone safe, eventually forces you to reach out for the older boy. The end of his tweng is what you grab a hold of, the worn material grounding in its own way as it’s stuck to Spider’s person. 

“You’re scaring them, skxawng,” Spider sighs as he steps closer to the table so that you don’t have to stretch your arms out to him. 

The Colonel stares at Spider for a long while before stepping back and getting down to one knee with a heavy grunt. Resting his arms on his bent knee, he leans forward, eyes looking for yours. They’re sharp and calculating, but to your surprise, they’re filled with curiosity instead of the cruelty you were expecting. 

“You alright there, kiddo?” The Colonel asks, his voice husky. 

“They don’t speak much,” Spider sighs, but the Colonel doesn’t pay him any mind. 

Unable to meet his eyes, you nod your head instead. The way he looks at you is stressing you out, your anxiety levels rising steadily as he stares. Eventually, he gets up on his feet, mumbling something to Spider before the doors swish open and shut again. It doesn’t take long before Spider’s head bends down to look at you too, his smile gentle. 

“Still good, Y/n?” He asks while squatting down to your level. 

“Yeah,” You croak, your throat tight, “Thanks,”

“Don’t know if you heard it, but we’re moving out later,” Spider explains slowly, making sure that each word registers, “He’s getting us some food, are you hungry?”

“I’m starving,” In time with your words, your stomach rumbles loudly, making Spider chuckle as a grin spreads on his face. 

“I guess you are,” Spider hums before getting up again. 

This time though, he takes your hand, squeezing it tightly as he sits on the tabletop. It’s an awkward position to sit in with your hand raised like that, but when he squeezes it, it settles something within you, making your anxiety dissipate somewhat. You don’t notice it when you start drifting, but when you come to again, the Colonel is sitting in the corner by the door as he chats with Spider. The older boy is still holding your hand while he eats with his other. He’s seemingly enjoying the conversation, his face breaking out in a grin as he chuckles at the Colonel. 

“Ah, there they are,” The Colonel hums, his sharp eyes greeting yours when you look up at him, “Brought you some food,” 

The Colonel's eyes turn almost gentle as his eyes drop to the thumb in your mouth, his head tilting curiously as his ears rotate toward you. Immediately, you pull your thumb out, clenching your hand around it as you feel your face heat. The Colonel tuts, his husky voice gentle when he speaks again. 

“It’s alright to suck your thumb, kiddo,” He hums, his eyebrows furrowing in deep thought for a moment. “Does it make you feel better? Safer?”

Nodding your head, you’re unable to see his expression. The Colonel hums gently and just like that, the room falls silent. Spider hands you what surprisingly turns out to be diced yovo fruit and sure enough, when you put the first cube in your mouth, the sweetness of the fruit explodes. Humming with happiness, you chew the cubed fruit until you’re full, eventually daring a low “Thank you, Sir,” which earns you another one of those gentle smiles. 

As far as kidnappings go, you guess this one isn’t the worst. You’re treated well and the recoms, the entire unit, do what they can to protect both Spider and you. It’s probably why it takes you by complete surprise when the angry General pushes the recom unit out on a mission they’re not yet ready to embark on. For the past few months, Spider has been teaching the recom unit the Na’vi way, preparing them for what Pandora had to throw their way once they were alone in the jungle that surrounded the area. Apparently, the General had been fed up with waiting, her angry narrowed eyes demanding results that even you knew wouldn’t come. 

Still, the recom unit obeyed the orders, which was what led you to be in the situation you were now in. Distressed and spiraling, sucking your thumb for comfort, you crouch by the hollow opening of a tree root as the furious thanator the recom unit had stepped upon runs around the area, furiously protecting its territory. In the chaos that erupted when it attacked, Spider lost the hold on your hand, his body being pushed away from yours as the recoms pushed at the two of you to move forward, shouting for you to run, to get away. It hadn’t taken long before you were separated, each one of you spread around the forest as you tried to escape the predator. 

Before you know it, you’re pulled out of your hiding spot, strong, huge arms wrapping tightly around you as you’re gathered up to wrap your legs around a strong waist. Locking your legs behind the recom’s back, you cling to him as if your life depends on it as he takes the both of you through the forest, sprinting further and further away until suddenly, the thanator stops and turns, the intruders - you - out of its territory. Breathing heavily, the recom cups the back of your head, pressing your face into the crook of his shoulder as he comes to a stop. 

“You’re alright, kiddo…” Quaritch rasps, his voice windy as he turns in circles, “You’re alright,”

“Are you hurt?” The question registers, but you’re unable to reply to it, your heart still racing in your chest. 

“Y/n, are you hurt?” Quaritch asks again, this time more gently, but with an underlying urgency. 

When you still can’t reply, he gently peels you off of him, sitting you down on a rock as he checks for injuries. Eventually, when he’s pleased, you’re lifted up into his arms again. Quaritch’s own heart is beating frantically, even through his vest, but that doesn’t stop him from reacting. His first priority seems to be to get you as high up in the air as possible, something that doesn’t come easy when they haven’t trained much on climbing. At least he isn’t wearing the boots anymore, which makes the whole thing a little bit easier. Only when he’s reached the highest branches does he stop to sit down, his long legs spread on each side of the thick branch as he takes a moment to just breathe. 

“Iron Sky, Blue one, actual,” Quaritch rumbles as he presses the device on his neck, “Requesting extraction,” 

You listen as he talks to whoever is on the other side, the hums and grunts rumbling through his chest as you try your best to calm your nerves. A big hand cups your head, gently pressing it to Quaritch’s chest, making you look up into sharp yellow eyes. There’s a soft smile on his lips as he looks down at you before he looks out over the jungle below. There are sounds all around you from smaller animals, birds chirping as they communicate in the neighboring trees, no doubt telling each other about the two Na’vi in their territory. 

Taking a deep breath, you relax your head against Quaritch’s chest before letting it out. Although you know that he’s a bad man, you can’t help but feel safe as his arms hold you protectively against him, making sure that nothing or no one can hurt you. Your feet hurt and you’re tired, sleepy even. Lifting the hand closest to Quaritch to your lips, you gently slip your thumb into your mouth. It’s immediately soothing in a way you have never been able to explain, and when his thumb starts stroking your head where he cups it, it doesn’t take long before your eyes close and then… you sleep safely wrapped up in protective arms.

#spider & gn!reader #quaritch & gn!reader #miles “spider” socorro & gn!reader #miles quaritch & gn!reader #colonel miles quaritch & gn!reader #colonel quaritch & gn!reader #miles socorro & gn!reader #spider socorro & gn!reader #spider quaritch & gn!reader #spider sully & gn!reader #colonel miles quaritch #colonel quaritch #miles quaritch #spider socorro #spider quaritch #miles socorro #miles “spider” socorro #Mech writes #Mech's requests

[steddieas-shegoes]

I come bearing a request! I need some wish fulfilment in my life, so Robin & Steve still meeting and becoming platonic soulmates even without all the Upside Down? Feel free to combine this with others or go wild with it in any direction you want. I love your writing, and I’m really looking forward to seeing all of these when they come out, I’m sure people have had so many good ideas!

THANK YOU!!!! I loved this idea. I love their friendship so much, it reminds me sooooo much of me and my person. Even though you said I could mix it in with another one, this felt like something I wanted to make the main focus. They're platonic soulmates, so they find each other no matter the circumstances or universe. I hope you like what I came up with! - Mickala ❤️

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

Steve was so lost. He followed the map, or tried to at least, but still ended up by the music building instead of the library.

He was certain there was a joke there about jocks not being able to find the library, but his head hurt, and he was hungry, and he was exhausted.

His first few days of classes had been overwhelming to say the least. He’d only registered for three classes, already knowing his work schedule would keep him too busy to handle more.

It would mean graduating later, but it would also mean more freedom from his parents.

That was more important.

But he carved out an entire afternoon to go to the library this week and so far, he’d wasted an hour walking to the wrong library, back to his car to get the campus map, and then, apparently, the wrong direction.

He was about two seconds away from crying.

He inhaled. He exhaled.

He leaned back against the wall of the music building and slid down until he was sitting on the ground.

It was his day off so nothing was stopping him from just sitting here until he found the energy to walk back to his car.

Except for the person currently tripping over his legs.

“Shit! Who sits on the ground outside? Who does that?”

The girl looked at him, eyes squinting as she took in his visibly pitiful appearance.

“Dingus! Why are you on the ground?”

She sounded annoyed, but also a little amused?

“Sorry. I’m just lost and tired.”

She searched his face, probably trying to figure out how someone like him could be this lost.

“Where are you trying to be?”

“Library.”

“That’s on the other side of campus.”

“I know that now, thanks.”

He really wasn’t in the mood to deal with people, especially not someone who already seemed to not like him because he was in the way.

But she wouldn’t go away, despite the fact that she was clearly in a rush before.

“Weren’t going inside?” He couldn’t help asking, hoping she’d forget about him and leave him to mope for a bit longer.

“I was. But you’re kind of depressing and I think it can wait.”

That’s awesome to hear. He kind of felt like the tears he’d been holding back on for ten minutes now were going to fall and he’d make a bigger fool out of himself and this girl would probably call campus security thinking he’s nuts.

“Dude. You’re kind of losing it. It’s only the first week.”

Yeah, well.

“I’ll be fine. Just go to class. You’re obviously running late.”

“First of all, it’s practice, not class. I’m in the marching band. Scholarship duties or whatever. Second of all, I’m not leaving you here. You look like you’re gonna throw up and die.”

Steve rolled his eyes. This girl was incredibly dramatic.

It was definitely entertaining at least.

“I’m not gonna die.”

“But you might throw up?” The girl looked disgusted. “Do it behind the building at least.”

He was a little nauseous, but that was probably just the anxiety and exhaustion mixed with not eating in a while.

Did he even have breakfast today?

Shit. He didn’t have breakfast.

“Okay. Here’s what’s gonna happen. I’m gonna go inside and tell them there’s an emergency and I can’t stay. The director is cool, he won’t even ask questions.” The girl was waving her hands around like that would help explain her plan. It didn’t. “Then, I walk you to the library. You buy me a snack at the cafe next to it so I can make the walk back here. We never see each other again, I pretend you’re not as pitiful as you look, and you learn where the library is.”

In theory, that sounded fine. But in practice, he wasn’t gonna waste her time.

The library closed in two hours and he wouldn’t have nearly enough time to do what he needed to by the time he got there, so why waste the energy walking all that way? Especially if it caused someone else to waste their time?

“It’s alright. Go to practice. I’m just gonna walk back to my car and head to the dorm.”

“You live on campus? Which dorm?”

“Grayson Hall. Why?”

There was only one co-ed dorm on campus, so the odds of her living in the same building as him were slim to none.

“Me too! Dude, do you think you could wait for me to be done with practice and drive us both back? It’s dark when I leave and my usual ride is sick.”

Steve should’ve said no. He didn’t even know this girl’s name. She seemed kind of crazy. Like, who asked a stranger for a ride and told them where they lived?

“You don’t have much stranger danger knowledge do you?”

“I think I can take you if I have to. You’re pale and you have bags under your eyes the size of the moon. I took a self defense class before I came here. My parents insisted.”

“Uh.” Well, he couldn’t really think of a reason not to at this point. “Okay.”

“Great! I’m Robin. You are…?”

“Steve.”

“Cool. See you in two hours dingus!”

He didn’t get a chance to respond before she was in the building.

Alright then.

————————-

Robin was kind of insane. But in the best way.

Steve hadn’t really had friends since the first two years of high school.

He’d gotten the shit kicked out of him twice in a row and “fell from grace” by junior year.

He couldn’t even find a place with the nerds. He wasn’t enough of anything. Not enough of a jock. Not enough of a smart kid. Not enough of a nerd. Not enough of a bad boy.

Not enough.

But the more time he spent with Robin, the more he felt like he could be.

She teased him relentlessly, sure, but she let him tease her back.

She was patient with him when he didn’t understand something, taking time to explain an assignment that confused him.

She was a sophomore, didn’t have to take a gap year like he did. She got a scholarship right out of high school.

He cut himself off from his parents right out of high school. The moment he did, he was completely on his own.

He had very little savings, just enough to rent a room in a house with a few people he didn’t know outside of town. He worked two jobs for a while, making sure he was putting away anything extra, living “slim” as one of his roommates used to say.

He didn’t have time to make friends.

And when he got accepted into college, he knew it would be the same.

He was paying for school himself, and he wasn’t smart enough to get an academic scholarship, or good enough at any of the sports he played in high school to get a sports scholarship. That meant he had to work at least one full time job while he took classes.

But that didn’t deter Robin.

She showed up at his door every morning with a smile and some crazy story about what happened at band practice the day before.

Band kids were kind of crazy. Robin was a little crazy.

He loved her.

She brought so much to his life, so much he didn’t realize he’d been missing.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear he was in love.

But he did know better.

Before she even came out to him, he knew she was different. Not a bad different, just the kind that he wasn’t wanting to be involved with romantically. Something was telling him she wasn’t interested in him either.

So one month into the semester, while they were studying together on Steve’s lunch break at work, she told him.

“I’m gonna say something that will either make you hate me or make us closer than ever.”

“Okay?”

“Just promise me no matter how you take it, you won’t tell anyone else. It would be dangerous for me.”

Dangerous? Was she in the mafia or something?

“I won’t tell anyone.”

He wouldn’t. But he was a little scared he’d end up in a ditch somewhere.

“I’m. Okay so. You know how you’re into women?”

This is not what Steve expected.

“…yeah?”

“Okay. I’m. Also into women?”

Steve sat silently. Waiting for her to say more.

Robin just stared at him, nervously biting her nails.

“And?” Steve asked when she didn’t continue on her own.

“And…that’s it? I’m a lesbian.”

“Oh.”

Oh, that’s it? Nothing mafia related? Cool.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I mean I expected something bad.”

“You don’t think that’s bad?”

“No? Should I?”

Robin looked like she was going to cry and that couldn’t happen because they were in public and Steve still didn’t know what to do to comfort people when they cried.

“Don’t cry. Please. I think you’re amazing, Robin. It doesn’t matter if you like women. I like women so, like, I get it.”

“You do?”

“Of course I do! I mean, boobs. Am I right?”

Robin let out a bark of a laugh.

“Yeah, boobs. Hard to resist.”

They smiled at each other, then looked back at their books.

He got lucky with Robin.

He got lucky that she’d found him when he was lost and kept him going the right way since.

#steve harrington #robin buckley #platonic stobin #stranger things #platonic soulmates #alternate universe #they always find each other because they're soulmates your honor #coming out #requests

[exec-proton]

[ Against the Kitchen Floor ] [Story post]

Yeah like the will wood song. You'll see why.

I'm very proud of this, by the by! I think it's probably just about the longest (singular) thing I've written, at 2252 words. Keep that in mind, by the way. This fucker's LONG.

Which is why it's below the read more.

Before you read, I want to warn that there are several descriptions of nausea and vomiting, anxiety attacks, as well as NONsexual nudity (Proton takes a bath). Nothing gets too graphic, I think (especially the nudity bit. He just takes his clothes off), but I would rather be safe than sorry with a warning. I have a higher tolerance for this sort of stuff, so please let me know if anything should be tagged, or added to this little warning.

-

How long had it been since he’d gotten out of bed? He wasn’t sure.

Proton cracked his eyes open. He was clinging to a pillow, another propped behind him. So he wouldn’t roll over. He sat up slowly, ignoring the way his stomach twisted.

The house was quiet. Too quiet. He groaned, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes and mind. There clearly wasn’t anyone home.

Right. Petrel was going grocery shopping, and Archer and Ariana were out looking for.. Something. Someone?

No. They’d stopped doing that. Right. He had to stop thinking like that. A hand drifted to his waist. There was no knife to grab. It wasn’t a good feeling.

Dragging his legs over the side of the bed, Proton scanned the room. He was in Petrel’s room. Right. He’d been making him sleep in the bed, instead of down on the couch. His guts shifted uncomfortably. He was starving.

He hadn’t had good food since he’d started losing weight. It was precautionary, Petrel had told him. His stomach was less likely to reject simple food. Proton stood slowly. He didn’t care anymore. He was hungry. He was tired of the crackers. He wanted something. Something actually good. Something other than the bland shit Petrel had restricted him too.

Fuck, he was nauseous. He ignored it. He was more hungry than anything else.

Slowly, slowly so he wouldn’t jostle his stomach and gag, he made his way to the kitchen. He lost focus, though, his movementsquickening as he pulled the fridge open, his eyes darting from one thing to the next.

Cravings. Cravings were normal. That’s what Ariana had said. He listened to her more than Petrel, at this point. She’d had a kid before. Petrel was just-

Just something. Proton wasn’t sure. He scowled at the contents of the fridge.

Meat. That sounded good. Archer had hidden some brisket behind a bag of broccoli (Why had they even bought that? None of them would eat any without Proton to cook it into something else). Proton shoved the greens away and grabbed the Tupperware, opening the lid and throwing it into the microwave.

His mouth was watering, he realized distantly. Like one of Archer’s dogs. He was pathetic. He couldn’t even keep anything down, and he was literally salivating. He leaned over to spit into the sink. Disgusting.

The microwave beeped at him, and he hurried to pull his food out. The cuts of brisket steamed. The fat had bubbled nicely, and delicious oil made the meat shine. His stomach rolled at the smell. Fuck.

Proton grimaced, but reached into the Tupperware and brought a slice to his mouth. It was the best fucking food he’d had in what felt like years. He ate the entire dish before he’d realized what he’d done. Fuck it. He dropped the Tupperware into the sink. That could be someone else’s problem. He was going to go collapse on his couch and go to sleep for a month.

He’d made it to the sofa, carefully laying himself down, when his thoughts began to wander. This was ridiculous. He was famous in Rocket for having an iron stomach. He could eat anything. And now the scent of raisins made him spew his past five meals onto the floor.

He wanted to smoke. He wouldn’t- He couldn’t- but he wanted to. He grumbled mindlessly. If Petrel came back with the smell of cigarettes clinging to him, he would punch the man.

He didn’t know if he could punch Petrel like this. He felt weak.

Fuck.

His innards were quite happily tying themselves into knots. He gagged, sitting up quickly. Wrong choice. The nausea was worse instantly.

Proton shifted onto his feet, throwing himself back into the kitchen before he could vomit on the floor. He succeeded, just barely, and clung desperately to the counter as his stomach emptied itself into the sink.

Fuck. Petrel was going to kill him.

When he finally stopped heaving, he slipped to the ground slowly, leaning back against the cupboards. He was shaking, he realized as he sucked in a breath. He was shaking and crying and fucking pathetic.

He couldn’t protect Rocket. He could barely handle himself now. What would he do when-

Proton let his head drop back against the wood behind him with a quiet sob. He couldn’t do this. What was he thinking? How had he let himself get to this in the first place? He’d been stupid. An idiot. There were so many ways to prevent this, and yet, here he was. What, had he forgotten? How stupid.

He hit the back of his head against the counter again, cursing to himself between his cries. His voice wasn’t even his anymore. He sounded like a girl again. He wanted to scream.

He wanted to scream and throw himself at the walls, tearing at anyone who got close, to be showered in blood. He wanted to hurt someone, because he was hurting, and he didn’t know what else to do.

Somewhere, in the house that was not his, a door opened.

Proton did not hear it, lost in his own thoughts. His cheeks burned with salt, and his throat with acid, but he did not make a noise.

Petrel’s voice, singing some song from the radio, filtered into the kitchen. He slid in on his socks, carrying the groceries he had left to buy.

They lay forgotten on the floor in an instant.

Petrel kneeled in front of Proton, looming over him, something worse than worry guiding his every movement. Proton blinked, his mind throwing itself back into gear. He inhaled sharply, pulling back. He hated this. He hated the look on Petrel’s face. It was something he was far too familiar with, from the looks of so many others, the way they looked at him when he approached with a knife and a grin. Fear. He hated the way he was afraid, too. He hated the way his voice broke, the way it keened when Petrel reached for his shoulders. The way he broke when the man held him so gently, cradling the back of his head like something precious.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, babe, I’m here. It’s okay,” Petrel repeated, rocking him back and forth. Proton wanted to fight. He could not. “It’s okay. I’m right here, Love.”

They stayed like that. It was horrible and comforting. Proton hated it. He tried to speak, to yell and push and scream, but his belly rolled again. He scrambled to his feet before he could heave whatever was left of his stomach’s contents onto the other man. That was the absolute last thing he needed.

Petrel cooed quiet praise and encouragement to him, rubbing his back gently and pulling his hair away from his face. It had gotten longer.

Finally, finally finally, his guts let him rest, and he leaned back into Petrel’s embrace. The man hummed at him, gathering him in his arms. Hugging him. “Hey,” he started, and Proton shivered. “Come on. Let’s go sit down, mkay? Come on,” he repeated, tugging at Proton. Once the green-haired man had started to walk, back out to the living room, to his couch, Petrel let go, ducking down to grab a large metal bowl from the cupboard, and a glass of water. Proton glared at him, opening his mouth to speak, but Petrel quieted him with a loving look. “Just in case,” he said.

Petrel settled Proton down with far too much care. The bowl and water were set aside, perched on the coffee table, as Petrel sat beside him. Proton eyed him warily.

“How’re you feeling, Pro?” he asked, setting his hand on the man’s thigh and rubbing small circles with his thumb. “Whatever happened, I’m not mad.”

Proton winced at the way his voice croaked when he responded, “I’m fine.”

Petrel frowned, had the audacity to look sad, and said “I don’t believe you.”

It was horrible, having someone who could see through you like that.

“I was hungry,” Proton said. It felt like a confession of sin.

“Oh, Pro,” Petrel murmured, reaching out to brush green hair out of his eyes. Proton looked away. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I should’ve been home.” His voice was so soft, laced with concern and regret, and it was all because of Proton. He didn’t know what to do with it.

Petrel sighed, leaning to pick the glass up and press it into Proton’s hands, guiding it to his mouth. “Come on, you need to drink.” Proton let him. His throat ached. But the water washed away the sting of the bile, and the smell started to leave with it.

The smell.

Proton gagged, and the water was taken away, the bowl positioned in front of him. His body heaved pathetically, but he didn’t vomit. Progress, he thought wryly, spitting the excess of saliva into the metal dish. Petrel rubbed his back.

Little sips, he thought he could hear the man saying. Little sips. He’d tried to drink too much at once. Right. Proton lifted his head. Too much. He leaned against Petrel, breathing shakily. His hair fell into his eyes, across his shoulders. Petrel brushed it away again, a kiss pressed gently against his temple.

Gentle, gentle.

Proton shivered, turning his face into the man’s shoulder. He was quivering, his body on the verge of just giving up. He hadn’t wanted this. He could’ve prevented it. He could’ve prevented all of it. Hot tears pricked at his eyes, and he grabbed Petrel’s shirt. He was being held, now.

“I can’t– Petrel,” he whimpered. Soft murmurs spoke back to him, caressing his back, attempting to soothe him.

“Yes, you can,” Petrel said, “you are so strong, Sweetheart.”

The grip on Petrel’s shirt tightened. “No- I couldn’t- Fuck, Petr, this is all my fault.”

“No, it isn’t.”

It was. It was, he knew it. Petrel knew it too.

“I couldn’t hurt him. All of this. I can’t fucking hurt a kid, Petrel, that’s why all of this is happening. It’s my fault!” His voice was rising. Petrel couldn’t hear him. He had to. He had to hear him.

Petrel leaned back, lifting Proton’s head to meet his eyes. Frantic gaze met calm; green met black.

“That is exactly why you’re so strong.”

Proton blinked.

Fuck.

He collapsed back into Petrel’s waiting arms. He wasn’t ready. He never would be.

“It’s in the past now, Love. It’s alright,” Petrel murmured.

Maybe, just maybe, he could believe him for once. He was tired. He wanted it to be alright. He didn’t want to worry anymore.

Petrel hummed, running his fingers through Proton’s hair. “We should get you cleaned up, hm? A bath sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

Proton nodded slowly. He was exhausted. He wanted this to be over.

Petrel stood without him, kissing the top of his head and walking out of the room. Proton stared after him.

The sound of running water flooded into the room, drowning his thoughts with a quiet shhhh…

Petrel returned, helping him to his feet and guiding him into the bathroom. Proton stood in front of the mirror.

“I look like shit,” he croaked. Petrel laughed, kissing the back of his head.

“Well, you’re the prettiest piece of shit I’ve ever seen,” he said, and squeezed Proton’s shoulder.

His hair was too long. It laid on his shoulders. Proton gathered it in one hand, holding it back.

“I look like a teenager,” he sighed. He would never miss those years.

Petrel frowned then, his hand drifting to settle on the back of Proton’s neck. “Do you want to cut it?”

Proton thought about this. He did, he wanted it gone so badly. He missed the way it curled over his ears, framing his face. He missed the way it made him feel like a man.

“No,” he decided. “For now.”

Petrel smiled, nodding and kissing his shoulder. He turned away, digging through the cupboards for this-and-that, salts and soaps and things to put in the warm water.

Proton began to strip, taking the last shield from his thoughts off his delicate body and letting it fall to the ground with his clothes.

He stood, naked, staring at the stranger in his mirror.

They looked like him, in some ways. The same eyes. The same hair, though longer. The same tattoos.

In some ways, they looked different. Their skin was paler. Dark bags lay beneath their eyes. The biggest difference, however, was the way their belly had started to grow.

It was finally starting to be obvious. Not drastically so, but noticeable without the overlarge hoodie he’d been hiding in. It was still enough to hide the gentle slope of his stomach. For now. That was the key word. Words.

The worst part was, he did this to himself. His own carelessness. Of course he could still get pregnant.

Testosterone didn’t make you immune to that. Even if he had still been on it, there was a chance. And then, everything had fallen apart, and he lost everything. The hormones left with Rocket.

So, yeah. He should’ve been more careful. But he knew that. He’d chosen to ignore it. Willful ignorance. Blind stupidity.

And now he was knocked up. Yippee.

A warm hand jerked Proton from his thoughts when it settled carefully onto the small of his back. Petrel leaned forward, careful to keep himself from touching Proton anywhere else. “The bath’s ready, Sweetheart.”

Proton nodded, and slipped into the warm embrace of the water.

#pokemon irl #pokeblog rp #pokeblogging #executive decision to start over #story post #tw nausea #tw vomit #// I'm impatient. Posting this now I'll reblog it in the morning /lh

[i-am-too-sick]

sick on an empty stomach, paired with anxiety?

Nov(emeto)ber 2022 Day 12: Sick on an Empty Stomach

@monthofsick

When Sawyer's stomach started to feel unsettled, he'd stopped eating immediately. He threw away his half eaten cinnamon roll, opting instead to fuel his body with only the most minuscule of sips of water, taken in at hour long intervals or longer.

Later, he'd chosen to forgo lunch, passing the afternoon logged into his classes. He found it incredibly hard to focus, his mind always wandering to the uneasy feeling in his gut.

He didn't eat, he hardly drank, so why wasn't the feeling going away?

Before he'd even registered how much time had passed, Alex came home, and then Sawyer made up the excuse of having a big lunch and that he wasn't going to be hungry for dinner.

They went to bed after watching a movie, though Alex was much faster at drifting off to sleep.

Sawyer chewed on his lip until he tasted blood, making his stomach give a nauseating flip. The nausea has ramped up right before bed, morphing from a noticeable uneasiness to full blown nausea and cramps, and it did nothing to chase the anxiety from Sawyer's mind.

He tried to breathe deeply from his nose, nervous chills breaking out across his skin. He whimpered softly, the sound morphing into a queasy hiccup.

He slapped his hands over his mouth, his breath becoming quick and ragged. His mind was racing now, twenty different thoughts crossing his mind, each going several hundred miles a minute.

Alex shifted beside him, maybe sensing his boyfriend's distress, though he continued snoring softly.

Sawyer needed to get up. He needed to do anything other than lay here and let his mind torture him as much as his stomach was threatening to.

He crept into the bathroom, gently pulling the door shut behind him until it gave a soft click. He flipped the switch on the wall, flooding the room in light. He leaned over the sink, getting a good look at himself in the mirror.

His face was pale, almost alarmingly so, and it was easy to see the anxious fear in his eyes. He splashed his face with water, letting the liquid run down his face rather than trying to dry it off.

A sudden cramp rippled through his abdomen and it was like such a punch to the gut that he wrapped his arms around his bare middle, groaning.

He stayed hovered over the sink, the ticking of the clock on the wall ringing in his ears. Minutes passed, hours maybe, it was hard to tell and Sawyer was too busy concentrating on one thing only.

The bathroom door swung open, the hinges creaking. Sawyer had almost forgotten he wasn't alone in the house, and he gasped at the confused, bleary-eyed with sleep look on his boyfriend's face.

"What are you doing?" Alex asked, his voice hoarse with sleep. He wasn't wearing his glasses, his squint overly pronounced.

"Nothing," Sawyer answered, much too quickly to even begin to sound convincing. "Just washing my face."

"You've been in here a long time. Your side of the bed is cold."

"I'm fine," Sawyer tried again, though his stomach chose that exact moment to let out a loud ominous-sounding gurgle.

Alex stared at him a long time, his hand still on the bathroom door handle. Sawyer could only hope his boyfriend was going to let it go.

"Are you feeling okay?"

Sawyer gulped. "I said I'm fine."

Alex crossed the tiny space, putting a hand on Sawyer's naked back. "You really don't look fine," he mused.

Sawyer felt his lip begin to quiver, his eyes growing hot. But before his emotions could get the better of him, his shoulders rolled forward with a powerful retch.

He angled himself back over the sink just in time for his stomach to heave once more. He belched, deep and guttural and sick-sounding, but all he managed to bring up was foamy bile.

Alex frowned. Sawyer said he'd had a big lunch, but it seemed now that his stomach was completely empty.

"Do you want some water?" he offered. "It might help, uh, get things started."

"No!" Sawyer cried. He gave a nauseous hiccup, futilely trying to swallow back the rush of saliva. "I'm not going to throw up."

"Yeah, but maybe you need to. I know you're scared, bur your stomach seems pretty sick."

But Sawyer was adamant that he was fine. "Just give me a minute..."

He leaned forward over the sink, lips parted as he tried to pant his way through the nausea. He was drooling, unable to swallow the amount of bitter saliva without it making his stomach turn.

He whimpered as another cramp seized him, his whole body jerked forward as he retched. His shoulders hiked all the way up to his ears as he heaved again, his body desperate to rid itself of something it didn't have.

It was absolutely painful, his throat raw as he managed to bring up only acid, his stomach muscles clenching like they were trying to squeeze everything out of him.

Alex rubbed his back through the whole ordeal, even when Sawyer's dry heaving began to taper off.

"Do you think you're finished?" It felt like a weird question to ask, especially because it was like Sawyer had never really started to begin with.

Still, Sawyer nodded. "For now," he muttered miserably. He wrapped his arms around his stomach with a groan. "I wanna go lay down..."

"Okay," Alex agreed, "and then I want you to try and drink a little bit of water."

Panic flashed across Sawyer's face.

Alex's face softened slightly. "You'll be okay," he encouraged. "I'll be right with you the whole time, and we'll bring a trash can just in case."

#nov(emeto)ber #month of sick #emetophilia #my ocs #sawyer #my writing #request

[noblest-roman-of-them-all]

Lactose Intolerant.

Here, have another little ficlet partly inspired by @haysgrove 's Tummy Ache Agenda in which seasoned Tummy Ache Veteran Virgil helps out Roman after a run in with a bowl of cream of broccoli soup. (Takes place after My Negative Thinking)

Roman moaned and curled in a little tighter on himself, arms folded over his protesting stomach. So maybe the cream of broccoli had been a bad idea...

On the plus side, at least the bruising on his face was gone.

It meant he could bury his face further into his pillow and moan as dramatically as he liked. Even if he did sound like the spirit of drowned, disparaged Victorian child as Remus had told him a few minutes ago when he offered to bring Roman a plate of saltine crackers to settle his stomach.

In all reality, it wasn't necessarily that he was in pain exactly, just miserably bloated and horribly gassy.

It was very unbecoming of royalty.

There was another strange gurgling sound, like a drowning eel or something and Roman winced at the cramping feeling that decided to make itself known, reminding that he was, in fact, in some measure of pain.

He didn't even bother to raise his head at the light tapping on his door when it came, distracted and distressed as he was, and called out instead: "Do you have an appointment?"

To his surprise it was the Embodiment of Anxiety that poked his head through the door.

"I have tea?" He offered. "Logan said soup Morality made you would probably upset your stomach and I heard Remus saying he thought you were gonna- he said you didn't feel great, so I made some of the tea that- that Deceit usually makes me when my stomach's upset," Anxiety explained as he crossed the room and set the tea on Roman's nightstand.

"Oh. Th-thank you. That's...thoughtful of you," Roman stammered and started to push himself upright. He got half way there before his stomach protested both with a wave of cramps and loud gurgle. Roman grimaced and ducked his head, his face flushing red. "S-sorry, I'm not-"

But Anxiety waved him off. "Remus eat whole blocks of cream cheese like they're bananas, you're good. I brought this too." He pulled a hot water bottle from his hoodie pocket and offered it to the Prince. "It'll help the cramping."

Roman took it almost reverently. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

Anxiety shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. "You're welcome? Look, just...don't tell anyone, okay? This kinda thing isn't- Just take those dairy tablet things next time, okay? And if you start feeling nauseous lay on your left side." And with that he dropped though the floor, leaving behind a baffled Roman.

#sanders sides #roman sanders #virigl sanders #platonic prinxiety #sanders sides fic #my writing #tummy ache agenda

[indigowallbreaker]

May I request Raphael x Bernadetta from FE3H with the hand-holding "calloused hands in soft hands" please? It's one of my favourite Fire Emblem pairings.

Thank you for waiting! I hope I did your favorite pair justice :D

(Currently accepting rare ships! Click here for an UPDATED info post!)

--

The last thing Raphael wanted to do was panic Bernadetta. Experience from both school and battle had taught him how very easy it was to startle Bernadetta-- then there would be nothing stopping her from running off like a hunted deer.

So even as Raphael lead them around the bodies of enemy soldiers and discarded weapons and patches of burned buildings, he kept his voice cheery.

"Marianne'll patch you right up and you'll be good to go!" He said, tightening his grip on Bernadetta's hand as a riderless horse ran past them. "I bet no one will make yah train for a while. You can cuddle up in bed all week!"

"That sounds nice," Bernadetta said wistfully. "I have some books I've been meaning to read."

Raphael looked down at her, anxiety pooling in his stomach at her words. Bernadetta had her eyes shut tight but Raphael could still see the damage done. As much as he pretended everything was okay, as much as he desperately hoped everything was okay, Raphael privately wondered if Bernadetta would ever see again-- let alone read the pile he knew was next to her bed.

Claude's secret strategy for defending Garreg Mach from the Empire had been to set off flame charges in the middle of the battlefield. The ensuing blaze had driven the Empire back, sure, but Raphael found it hard to be impressed with the plan after finding Bernadetta in this state. Evidently she had been standing too close and been hit by soot, ash, and no small amount of splintered wood.

Still, Raphael guided her through the battlefield back toward the gates of Garreg Mach with as much optimism as he could muster. "What kinda books?" He prompted. He saw Hilda streak across the sky on her wyvern towards the retreating Empire troops and hurriedly looked down at Bernadetta again.

"There's this one about all the Saints that Seteth lent me when we came back here. Oh! And the Professor gifted me one about plants! I'm not sure what kind but the cover looked interesting."

As she talked, Raphael kept his head on a swivel, ready to scoop Bernadetta up if they were ambushed. Her soft hand in his felt out of place on this burning battlefield. It was hard not to just run and pull her along, get her away and safe back in her room as fast as possible.

"There's this recipe book I brought from home I want to try too," Bernadetta was saying when Raphael remembered to pay attention. "I can try making you something from that, if you want? Y-You liked the meat I made before so I thought..."

The overwhelming smell of burning wood, bushes, and flesh had, for once, made Raphael feel nauseous at the idea of eating meat. But he squeezed Bernadetta's hand and said, "Sounds delicious!

"A-Are we almost there?"

"Almost. Hang in there!"

"My eyes really itch now..."

"Claude!" Raphael pulled Bernadetta closer to his side and grinned in relief upon seeing Claude's silhouette.

Both Claude and the Professor looked around at Raphael's shout. "I thought you were up front with Hilda and Lorenz?" Claude said with a furrowed brow.

It was the Professor who started forward toward Raphael. "What happened?" They asked, taking Bernadetta's other hand.

"She got hit," Raphael stated vaguely. He didn't want to talk about finding Bernadetta amid the rumble, shaking and gasping, both hands over her eyes and blood in her hair. Instead he let Bernadetta's hand slip from his and aimed a worried look at the Professor. They nodded in understanding.

As the Professor began leading Bernadetta towards the healer's tents, Claude pat Raphael on the shoulder. "You should go with her," he said.

"She's in good hands now. I'm just glad I could keep her calm."

"I think she still needs you."

Raphael watched Bernadetta's retreating back and bit his lip. It wasn't until Claude gave Raphael a slight push that Raphael let himself all but race forward. "We're almost done here!" Claude called after him, reading the reason behind Raphael's hesitation. Raphael flashed him a thumbs up before closing the distance between himself and Bernadetta, taking her hand once more.

She squeezed it tight. "Don't leave again," she ordered, voice high.

Raphael smiled even though she couldn't see it. "I won't. Promise."

#fire emblem three houses #bernadetta von varley #raphael kirsten #magentasky234 #rare pair run #raphaetta #raphael of course doesn't blame claude or the professor or anything #that's not how he is #but there's another version of this where Claude is visibly upset at how this affected bernie #i took it out bc it distracted from the main theme this is Caring Raphael and Very Brave Bernadetta

[youbutstupid]

For people who get nauseous from anxiety, here are some tricks that help me

- Take small sips of cold water. When I have anxiety nausea, it often feels like my throat is blocked and my stomach is burning slightly, cold water can help ease this feeling

- Sucking on a mint or chewing on mint flavoured chewy. Mint is known to calm your stomach and it can also help with the tight feeling in your throat

- Small sips of ginger tea

- Cold. If I’m in the car I rest my hand on the open car window so the cold hits me. If I’m at home I’ll hold an ice cube in my hand until it melts or put a cold compress on my wrists. Cold is just an amazing distraction

- Taking deep breaths through your nose instead of your mouth can ease the feeling that you’re about to gag

- Lie down

- If you have to be sat up, don’t scrunch yourself up (Aka don’t bring your knees to your chest) as this’ll just irritate your stomach even more

- Of course eating is important, so try not to eat foods that are too heavy until your nausea passes. I find that small sandwiches and fruit (especially juicy fruits like berries or apples) are great. Just try not to eat too much fruit or acidic food in one go as it could upset your stomach further. Take small bites

- Try and remember the last time you slept, ate or drank something. Not doing any of these 3 things regularly can lead to both anxiety and nausea, so if you have found you have not done any of these 3 things in a while, try and catch up slowly

- You’re going to be okay, you always are in the end

[anarkhebringer]

I learned that Paka'a's Child of the Ocean trait makes him sad when fishing and uncomfortable when eating fish, and honestly it makes sense in and out of the lore I established for him. He does have a "friends not food when not for survival" outlook on eating fish in the lore already, so I'll just change it to him only eating fish when he hunts it himself, and him preferring to hunt and eat other types of meat instead.

He knows the death of the fish was quick and painless that way when he hunts it alongside being able to give proper thanks for its sacrifice, because as nice as he can be to everyone around him, he knows it isn't safe to assume the same was the case when humans catch and prepare the fish. As long as he's been alive has made sure he's seen many things that break his heart. It's also a reason he refuses to eat fish cooked, he only eats it raw because he doesn't know what humans do to the fish before/while/after cooking it. Thinking too long on what humans might do to the fish makes him nauseous from the dread and anxiety.

#random ramblings #ts4 headcanon #Paka'a Uha #at this point I need a personalized tag for Paka'a Posting(tm) #y'know what that'll be my tag for it #Paka'a Posting

[rosenallies]

hello <3 alternate breakup au prompt perhaps rosie bein g protective and the best man ever shielding nali from the world

writing this au kinda makes me agree with the lot of y’all that say that original breakup au rosie should go eat rocks <3 but anyway <3

——

“You’re sure you’re okay with me going onstage? I can tell them I don’t feel well and we can go back to the hotel,” Rosé fretted, looking at his boyfriend with concern clouding his green eyes.

Denali shook his head and faked a smile. “I’ll be fine, it’s a couple numbers that aren’t even back to back and we can go back to the hotel after. I’m not gonna be the reason you can’t get booked anywhere-“

Rosé stood up from the vanity he sat at to touch up his makeup, crossing the dressing room to where Denali sat. “I don’t care if it means you’re safe and okay! You know that.”

“I’ll be fine,” Denali promised, standing up to kiss Rosé softly, tapping his ass lightheartedly and pushing him out the door, “go perform, do great, I love you.”

Sighing, Rosé kissed his cheek gently as to not mess up his lipstick. “Okay, I’ll be back.”

Rosé walked out the door and suddenly, Denali felt the anxiety and negative thoughts creep back in. Not that they were silenced with Rosé in the room, but left alone with his thoughts proved consistently to make everything worse. That’s why he found himself in a dressing room at whatever club he was booked in, dressed in his oversized sweats and hiding his face from the crowd that would undoubtedly recognize him. After the last time Rosé had traveled without him, Rosé suggested he start coming along instead of staying at home. Denali hated that he followed his boyfriend around like a lost puppy dog, but the way Rosé cried and begged him to come along or he would cancel every booking he had made Denali agree. It wasn’t all bad, on good days it felt like a little vacation but on bad days, like today, the only place Denali wanted to be was buried in his bed, his sweet dog curled up against him.

Trying to keep himself busy, Denali played a few games on his phone and texted Mik just to say hello when the dressing room door opened but it wasn’t Rosé who walked in, but instead one of the local queens that was performing that night. Denali smiled at them and turned his attention back to his phone.

“How come you don’t perform anymore?” They said, accusingly.

“Oh, um, I just- I just took a break is all,” he replied, chuckling awkwardly, “I’ll get back to it eventually.”

He hoped the queen would accept his answer and not press further, but he could never be so lucky, could he?

“No offense, but you look like shit. Are you sick or something?”

Denali swallowed thickly, trying to laugh off the sting of the comment. “No, I just-I like to be comfortable when I’m not performing. Sorry my comfy clothes aren’t a fashion statement.”

“It’s not even the clothes, you seriously look like if the wind blew too hard you’d disintegrate,” the queen laughed, their attempt at light shade making Denali feel nauseous.

Before Denali had a chance to reply, Rosé walked back in. He was slightly sweaty, the wig he wore a bit disheveled but Denali could feel his anger from even a few yards away. Denali could tell immediately that Rosé had heard at least the last comment through the door.

“Are you fucking serious? Do you not have any common sense at all?

“Come on, it was just some shade, it’s not a big deal.”

Even under all the makeup, Denali could tell Rosé’s face was bright red with anger. Denali stood up and grabbed onto Rosé’s arm, slightly shaking his head, silently begging him not to cause a scene. The last thing he wanted was to being more attention to himself.

Rosé huffed. “Just fuck off, why don’t you. And maybe next time you keep your fucking comments to yourself.”

The queen rolled their eyes and left the room, Rosé turning to Denali as soon as they were alone. Denali’s lip wobbled and he hid his face in Rosé’s chest.

“Baby,” he cooed, rubbing Denali’s back in circles, “I’m so sorry you had to hear all that. What they said isn’t true and you don’t need to answer to anyone about why you’re taking a break.”

Denali nodded against his chest, but his brain continued to spiral, telling him that he was ugly and pathetic, underserving of the unconditional love that Rosé had for him.

Sighing, Rosé held him tightly. “I think we should take a break from traveling for a while. I’ll stay home with you.”

“What? No!” Denali exclaimed, untangling himself from Rosé’s arms.

“Just- let’s just head back to the hotel, okay? We’ll talk more about it later.”

Guilt consumed him, but he agreed anyway, knowing that arguing with Rosé about not finishing the show was useless. “Okay.”

#alternate breakup au #prompt request

[pretty-face-breaker]

Lost - WIJ Day 3

@whumpmasinjuly​

CW. political themes, discussion of potential for war, onset of a panic attack, plane hijacking, manhandling, threatening with a gun, detonation of an explosive, kidnapping

--

Dawn brought a wave of warmth passing over Tariq’s skin, the smell of moss, and awfully bitter coffee. 

“Mr. Rahman, we’re back soon.” 

As the coffee-maker dinged lightly, Tariq watched the co-pilot snatch the pot and top off his paper cup. He returned a tired smile and thanked him as the earthy scent reached his lungs. 

It didn’t matter that the forest near the plane’s landing was so torrid that he could barely breathe or that the heat was eating him alive. If he needed anything right now, it was coffee. 

He had landed no more than thirty minutes ago. The Captain had mentioned something about needing to make a couple calls on the ground and, with the co-pilot out cold, they had rerouted to a runway built near a massive stretch of forest and a little lake that had put Tariq off 

He drank slowly, letting the bitter liquid wash away the crackly feeling in his throat. 

Not my best idea, Tariq admitted to himself a minute later. This suit’s already clinging to me.

Suits, suitcases, jackets folded away into the little plastic cabinets. There were more pleasant things than spending hours lightheaded and nauseous while reading and rereading his script, letting every word ring in his mind. Conjuring up reactions of the politicians.

“Look alive, people. Only a few hours left.” The pilot tossed a glance back to the diplomat, idling still over his coffee, pretending not to have heard.

Tariq ran after the party as they left the cabin. An unfamiliar jet caught his eye across the field and he began to look for someone to ask about that. The group was walking too fast, though. He felt as if he might get lost in the fog.

It’s just anxiety. Deep breathing. They already know about the other jet so there’s no use in asking about it, right?

Though, it was he who was going to sit in a conference of strangers and try to dissolve tension which - if it snapped - would end worse than his speech did. 

Tariq knew the neighbouring attack had been a false flag operation. He knew that. A lousy bid by a weaker nation to get a stronger one to mobilize against his own and it would be his job to assure their allies that exploitation was far from their intentions. That they wouldn’t meddle in another nation’s affairs. He knew that.

He wasn’t sure if they knew that.

After boarding the jet, Tariq flinched a bit as the door spun, shut, and clicked in place. There was something about boarding airplanes that threw him off of his balance and made him hesitant to stand up for any reason. 

Today, especially. 

Tariq took his own seat and buckled up as the pilots disappeared into the cockpit and the guards to the back. It was then he noticed that his fingertips were quivering a bit.

I really need to stop drinking that. 

Swearing quietly, he stood and left for the bathroom, giving the guards a nod on the way. They split and let him pass. He slipped into the stall and let the door shut him in with a small, suctioning click. 

The bathroom here was larger than they usually were on public planes and he was grateful for the space the government could afford him. Especially now, where he might keel over if he didn’t get a few precious minutes of silence and solitude. A curtain was oddly pulled at the back of the stall but Tariq hardly acknowledged it. 

Instead, he watched his hands wander to the sink, as if they were detached from his body, and then unconsciously hunched over. 

Five things you can see. 

His mind replayed what the agent had said earlier that week, about anxiety and keeping collected before things like this. It was just he never had to do something like this and with the fluttering in his chest, he breathed in gulps. His fingertips were cold. Sweat, there was enough on his face. Enough he could feel it cool. 

What if this ends badly? 

Four things you can touch. 

“Two nations, already plagued with a history of-...” Tariq gasped and clutched the metal sink harder until his head stopped spinning. Nope. Again. “Plagued with a history…”

Three things you can-

We can’t handle fucking armed conflict right now. I need to do this right.

“I encourage our allies to ignore the belligerence-” Suddenly, rustles from behind him broke his train of thought.

“Need a little help?” A dark voice asked from behind the curtain.

Tariq didn’t react quickly enough. By the time he had jumped up, a rough hand had already grabbed and pressed him back against the bathroom wall. Another hand clamped over his mouth, pressing so roughly against his jaw he thought it might crack. A knee between his legs, and his assailant’s face so close to his he could feel his satisfied exhale. 

“Mmph-!” 

“Well? Do you need a little help, diplomat?” the man repeated in a dangerous whisper. Tariq’s panic almost whited out his vision but he caught a glimpse of the man. His hair fell almost to his shoulders in clean but untamed strands, framing his sunglasses. He stood, frozen, as if his limbs had stopped working.

Trembling under the crushing grip on his face, Tariq’s eyes flickered to his mouth where he saw the remnants of a white scar. 

Before he could struggle, his assailant grabbed him by the shoulder to spin him around. The other one brought a cold hum of metal against his throat followed by a soft click. Tariq couldn’t stop shaking, suddenly fearing that if his heart hammered too hard against his ribs, that it might set the gun off. 

He couldn’t remember a word of his closing remarks.

The man smiled back nonchalantly at his white terror. “Now, are you going to do anything stupid?” 

Tariq made a sound of fear low in his throat. The weapon vibrated in response. “N-No.”

“Excellent. Now, in a moment, you and I are gonna walk out of this stall together. And when we get out-”

BANG. 

Tariq felt himself jolt back and yelp at the shockwave of whatever had just been set off outside the door but the man didn’t let him go far, gripping him roughly as if he didn’t appreciate the exclamation. Tariq’s breaths came in pants now, his shaking no longer controlled. “What the fuck?” 

His assailant tsked under his breath. “Do not panic. Open the door, Mr. Rahman.”

Tariq’s eyes had glazed over when the door swung open and what greeted him was smoke. Smoke, wreckage, and blood splatters on the windows of the jet, groaning from too many directions. His eyes darted around frantically, searching for a guard but found none who were standing. 

A few windows had been blown open. One of the women lay on the ground, clutching her eyes and breathing in stuttered gasps. One of them must have been a flash bang.

“Nobody move!” 

“Except you,” the man reminded him coldly, nudging him forward with the pistol. “Keep stepping forward until you find the exit.” 

“Hands up or you die!” 

“O-oh, God.” 

Tariq felt a chuckle against his back. “He won’t save you here, Mr. Rahman.” 

Forcing his legs to move, he dragged himself forward through the fog in trembling steps as unfamiliar faces swarmed the jet. Tying, threatening, growing more and more distant from him. He should have fought back, screamed, warned the guards before the grenade had gone off, and attempted to kick off his attacker. Bitten him. Something. 

“What do you want?” He whispered, knowing the man was close enough to hear him.

But he knew he couldn’t have done a thing.

"You’ll find out soon enough.”

Tariq kept moving forward robotically until he could no longer see anything, losing himself in the smoke.

--

I’m not sure if this will be a new series but I started it last year and never posted it. Let me know if you would like to be tagged in the future!

#whump #whump writing #whump wrabble #whumpmasinjuly #wij22day3 #wij #prompt: lost #political themes #kidnapping #panic attack #hijacking #threat #explosion #violence #multiple whumpers #manhandling #tariq the diplomat #whumpmas in july no.3 #wij22

[dudadragneel]

I can see that with Chan too, he definitely would lower his guard after some time with him.

There a few episodes that could be used but I think the one in the amusement park. Minho isn’t really good with some rides so I think that would be really good start for a fic. 👀 Just him being too stubborn to admit that he’s feeling sick and he ends up in a ride that he’s anxious to even go in without feeling sick. So while he waits in the line the nausea just gets worse due to anxiety. Obviously he doesn’t feel good while in the rollercoaster and after it. So as soon as it stops he wants to tell Chan but no words coming out and he accidentally throws up on Chan’s lap. Which most definitely will turn him all shy and teary due to all the people staring at him. I need some angst 😭

Or SKZ Code episode 13 idk what the sport is called but they did some gymnastics with the ropes, I guess the spinning would really throw him off.

Or the water park episode. They were running a lot in that episode and I totally can imagine him being really nauseous, maybe he threw up the night before, and the running doesn’t help with his case. Instead of telling anyone that he’s feeling sick he just tries to go through the day, not knowing that they have to run a lot in the episode. And from there it does downhill.

Ah I would add even more. Sorry for the spam!

Hello, dear anon!

Hhmm!! I can see him walking out of a ride and barely managing to make physical contact with Chan (tug on his shirt, etc.) before throwing up.

Or him managing to say something and Chan tells the group that he will take Minho to the bathroom.

That episode on the water park was awesome! I can picture that happening too, specially because I've seen these boys eat a lot before performing so maybe they had breakfast or lunch before and all the running just make everything slosh around in his stomach. And then he suddenly stops running, bracing his knees as he proceeds to throw up 🤭

💜

#emeto #sickfic #whump #kpop sickfic #kpop emeto #stray kids emeto #stray kids sickfic #skz emeto #skz sickfic #skz fluff #skz fanfic #skz angst

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

Tw for weight issues, potential ED and mention of EDs, unhealthy behaviors, emetophobia tw, meds

I wanted to know if there's a name for this so that I can start tackling it better?

In high school I was a normal weight. I wasn't overweight but my friends were all taller and underweight. I would sometimes get teased for being "chubby" and not dieting (like having people at lunch make comments about what I was eating and point the calories out), but never let it bother me. I knew my BMI was fine, it just looked like I had a chubbier shape from being short, and from my friends having a different body type.

In university I started to get intense panic attacks, which would lead to vomiting. I know some people gain weight in college but I went in the totally opposite direction. Panic would make me throw up, and I'd lose my appetite for days. I lost 30% of my body weight.

I graduated now, but I have never been able to put back on the weight I lost. And I'm still stuck in the cycle of throwing up during intense panic attacks, and then being unable to eat for a few days. However... I then started getting into the habit of binge eating?

I'll go over this week, for example:

Day 1 - Feeling anxious, might still manage a few bites of a very small snack which I don't finish, but overall not have much appetite and be feeling nauseous the whole day so for the most part I'll be avoiding food Day 2 - Finally the feelings of anxiety are too much to bear, and I'll throw up while experiencing other panic symptoms like heart palpitations, racing thoughts, tension headaches, etc. (sometimes for several hours straight, even if I don't have anything in my stomach, or if I try to drink water I just throw up the water and have kind of "foamy vomit"), No food Day 3 - Panic has subsided but I'll still have no appetite. No food Day 4 - Binge eat a variety of different foods, usually at night (even though I know you're "not supposed to eat" at night, but whatever)

I've had trouble with doctors because just based on my weight alone, they'll accuse me of being anorexic. I've had family members suspect that I'm anorexic too. Finally, I had someone point out that I looked like I had sialadenosis (swollen salivary glands, which I know people associate with bulimia).

However, forgive me if I'm wrong but I always grew up with the thought that eating disorders had to do with people who don't want to gain weight, or who purposely want to lose weight, while in my case, I'm not trying to lose weight, and actually feel extremely unsatisfied that I don't weight more?

Eating disorders were a huge thing at my high school and it always had to do with them feeling too heavy and wanting to avoid putting on weight, from what they said around me. But when I vomit or don't eat, it's not because I don't want to gain weight. It's because my body is responding to extreme stress. And the binging will be because after going for a while without eating, I get hit by a huge amount of hunger and tend to overdo it (not purposely but just I get cravings and want to keep eating lots of different things).

A doctor prescribed me a medication that's supposed to help me with my appetite, but the problem is that it causes drowsiness in me, so I'll take it and start to feel a little hungry but then I fall asleep before I eat anything. I have tiredness all throughout the day, so there's no time to take it when I'm less sleepy since I'm basically always sleepy. I've also tried some anxiety medications and one helps me but I still get panic attacks, I know medication is supposed to go hand in hand with lifestyle changes, but my life feels like it's super chaotic and unstable for a bunch of reasons so instead of having a stable life, I just jump from one panic-inducing life situation to the next.

Do you have any experience in knowing what this is called, and how to deal with it? Thank you.

Hi anon,

First of all I'm sorry about what you've been through, and thank you for sharing your experience.

It seems like you may be dealing with a complex combination of symptoms related to food, anxiety, and panic attacks. While I'm not an expert in eating disorders, I can do my best to listen and provide suggestions based on my limited knowledge of eating disorders. Ultimately, it's important to seek professional help to receive an accurate assessment and diagnosis.

From my understanding, anorexia essentially means that you avoid eating as much as possible and when you do eat, it's insufficient. However, it sounds like you may be dealing with some kind of binge purge cycle where you eat a lot but throw up. But, like you said, bulimia necessitates voluntary purging, whereas in your case it sounds like you're throwing up out of anxiety and panic, rather than intentionally expelling any food. Unfortunately I'm not sure what this could be.

It sounds like the medication your doctor prescribed isn't really helping, and you may want to consider having a conversation with your doctor to explore other options. It's also worth noting that while something like an anxiety medication is supposed to go hand in hand with lifestyle changes, it can serve as sort of a safety net during this tumultuous time. I know when I started medication at 16 I was dangerously depressed and was only just embarking on my recovery journey, so for a long time the medication was pretty much doing all the work until I could get on my feet and pull my own weight, and that's okay. If it makes your life any easier then it's needed.

I think a key thing that's missing from this equation is what may be causing your panic attacks and anxiety, as these are symptoms of a larger problem. It's seems very apparent that your panic attacks are debilitating, making you go days without eating, which is really bad for your body and your overall health. I'm not sure if you know where this panic or anxiety is coming from, but it could be something to explore with the guidance of a mental health professional such as a therapist, ideally one who specializes in eating disorders. Even if you don't immediately discover the source of your panic, a therapist could help you minimize the effects of your panic attacks, and hopefully work up to a more consistent diet.

I hope I could help. If anyone has any comments or suggestions, feel free to add on. Otherwise, please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

#mod bun #trauma talks #trauma details #tw abuse #tw emotional abuse