#gen/shin imp/act di/luc

[danafeelingsick]

i'm back to writing again, finally 😭 i've been busy! drawing, doing a bunch of commissions (which you should check out 👀), and brainroting over that c.haracter.ai bot. i don't recommend it, makes you lazy...

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ: i feel like i went a different route with this one, you can tell i was excited about the fight scene, so it's much more angsty and edgy than my normal stuff, but i couldn't help it! the whole darknight hero storyline is so cheesy and i love it. heed the warnings below:

HOT PURSUIT

In his restless search to stomp the abyss order, Diluc stumbles upon a sickly Venti left to die, and a race against time to save him. Will the darknight hero be able to save our beloved bard, or will both succumb to the abyss' dark scheme?

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ canon-typical violence, graphic depictions of vomiting, mentions of alcohol abuse, mentions of poisoning, stomach ache whump, nausea, regurgitation, fainting, vomiting blood (only slightly descriptive), drowning, implied character death

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ 4,5k~

Silence is severed by the tread of hefty boots. The sound was followed by two figures cutting the empty street in pursuit. A man in a tattered dark cloak tags several steps behind an abyssal creature, a hydro mage protected by an elemental shield.

The creature snickers, mocking him. He grits his teeth, he can't keep up the pace for much longer, and a metallic taste lingers at the root of his tongue. The mage knows it, the deranged chants of a mind long lost carry the tone of a thing that knows it has won.

The stalker keeps to the shadows of the buildings, guarded against the moon's light, almost as if its watchful eye could scorch him. The worn-out fabric of his black cloak flaps in the wind, like the broken wing of a bird falling from the sky. He resisted the urge to clutch his flank, where a cloth had been wrapped tight over a flesh wound, the frigid current made it burn anew as it whipped his skin.

His resolve didn't waver, even as he watched the abyss mage drift away like a bubble of soap in the wind, even as the chanting preluded its escape, the pursuer pushed on. In a last effort, he summoned his weapon, feeling the all too familiar weight of a greatsword fall into his hands. He catches it even before the long blade can touch the stone path, balancing it without a false step, without even destabilizing his breath. All for naught, the creature vanished before his eyes.

A curse escapes the man's lips as he stops dead in his track, standing where the mage had been less than a second ago. Traces of hydro still hung in the air, evaporating to the naked eye as the wind swept it away like it was never there in the first place. A vision had already been enough favor from the gods, but now the man deeply envied the few who possessed elemental sight.

He muttered another curse under his breath, finally allowing himself a few long drags of air, even if it made his side sting, it dispersed the anger gathering in his scowl. He had been stalking that creature since nightfall, he had it cornered, but he had been overzealous when it came to disposing of it.

The silence was deafening once again. He looked to his right, realizing he had been standing at the mouth of a pitch-black alley, inviting an ambush. He glued his back to the wall and listened closely, for any sign of life in that deserted city. His eyes were peeled for any movement in the dark, his gaze focused like a famished falcon.

To provoke even further, he pulled down the hood of his cloak, revealing a mane of fiery red locks cascading down his back. There wasn't a single soul in Mondstadt who wouldn't recognize that man, Diluc Ragnvindr knew it well. If anyone were to see him… Sometimes he wished he still had that beaked mask, but part of him knew he had already outgrown it.

The nobleman didn't allow himself another moment to breathe, he could feel the many bruises dotting his skin, under his layered coat, the wound on his side, throbbing as if his heart could leak from it. The abyss mage had attacked him as soon as it had the chance, it was an act of such desperation he knew it wasn't there for a simple reconnaissance mission. He couldn't relax just yet, his blade was raised, warm still from his elemental energy coursing through it.

After a second of bated breath, a faint rustling sound came from deeper within the alley. Diluc immediately tensed, assuming the same fighting stance he had trained to perfection, ready to light up the whole street with his flames at the first hint of movement. But nothing came. He knew these creatures were intelligent, they wouldn't attack him head-on, not when it had the advantage.

There was no way to lure it out. Diluc breathed deeply as he took a step into the darkness. His intuition kept repeating a trap. Upon hearing a bottle shattered against stone, followed by others rolling on the ground, he immediately conjured the image of some stray cat chasing a mouse, and knocking empty bottles on its way. The thought entertained him for a moment, but the closer he got, the more he convinced himself it was something larger than that.

It took a few tense moments for his eyes to adapt to darkness, but as soon as they did, the hero froze, realizing he could discern a silhouette cut out against the dark. It stood there, swaying before it spun, and plummeted to the ground with a heavy thud, knocking more bottles. The sound was like a screech in the dead of night, over as soon as it started, leaving only pained groans behind.

It was a risk he fastly accepted as he lowered his blade and raised a hand, commanding a small flame to crackle to life in his open palm. The wavering red glow brought definition to the silhouette, and Diluc could now tell it was a person, or at least the form of one, tossed on the ground like a rag doll.

”By the archons…”, he murmured, his heart dropping to his stomach when he recognized the teal cape before anything else. “Venti!?”

The greatsword vanished before it even touched the ground. Diluc rushed to the fallen man's aid, stepped around the maze of empty bottles, and knelt. Bringing the flame closer, he looked over him for any injuries, anything to explain why he had collapsed right in front of him.

The bard was shivering violently, Diluc could tell just by looking at him. His shoulders hitched in one desperate attempt to fill his lungs. Then he went stiff, his back arching before a gurgle came from his throat. It sounded like he was drowning.

Diluc rolled the bard onto his back and reached out to brush his braids away, but the change of positions seemingly made the young bard spring back to life. He flinched as a long gasp left his lips, followed by whimpers that quickly turned garbled, desperate.

Carefully, as if he was approaching a feral wounded animal, Diluc pulled him closer, holding his head up as he laid his body over his lap. Venti was deathly pale. The faint blue of his eyelids turned almost purple under the flickering red glow of his element. The same color lingered in his lips, which parted now to reveal the deep red-stained inside of his mouth.

“Venti? Venti!” he called, keeping his voice hushed despite the panic brewing in his chest. He cupped his cheek, cold sweat soaking into the palm of his glove. The bard winced under the touch, his lips quivering as he let out a small whimper, or at least tried to.

The sound didn't quite make it out of his mouth. A lengthy gurgle traveled up his throat, turning graphically wet as it reached the back of his tongue. He pitched forward with a gag, and Diluc scrambled to catch him. His face was contorting and his lips puckering, then parting again when he couldn't hold back another gag.

Venti made a miserable sound, the only warning he could give before he let out a short belch and a surge of red liquid along with it. It spewed out the sides of his mouth, a weak spurt coming out of his nose, coating his chin, and neck.

Diluc had to bite back a yelp as he saw it, his mind conjured the worst of possibilities before the first logical one. Venti heaved in his lap, suffocating, and his hands were moving before he knew it. The flame fizzled out along with the shock, and he flipped the bard's hitching body onto his side.

He didn't let go, even as the acidic smell hit him, even as Venti lurched with a gurgly retch quickly drowned out by more watered-down red and purple vomit. Diluc felt the sickening warmth drip onto his knees, quickly seeping into the clothes and cooling, but everything was racing too fast for that to be a concern on his mind.

He could tell Venti was struggling to breathe still and tried to gently, albeit shakingly, make him lean forward. Holding him by the shoulder, the other hand brushing his braids away, not even realizing they were already soiled. He practically sprawled the small bard over his lap, unable to do anything except watch as he heaved painfully.

Venti gagged, squeezing his eyes even tighter as he let out a groan of pure misery. The way he was being moved only served to make him feel worse like his packed stomach was being tossed around, like a balloon about to burst. He went completely stiff, trying to brace himself, but he was far too weak for it.

Vomit spewed out of him in a lengthy gush, it sounded like an open faucet, then like a drowning animal when it tapered off and he kept gagging graphically. Everything hurt in a way he thought he had forgotten, his head was throbbing mercilessly and his stomach kept wringing itself out of his mouth.

It took a few long seconds for Venti to register the hands all over him, prodding at his face now, forcing his eye open. His movements were lethargic, but in what felt like an eternity, he was able to raise a hand, and merely graze the wrist of whoever was trying to wake him up.

“Venti, please. If you can hear me, respond”, he heard a familiar voice coming from a blur of disheveled red locks and recognized it quickly. The man carried an unfamiliar grief in his tone, one Venti had never heard before.

The windborne bard weakly lifted his head and looked up at the nobleman, squinting as he struggled to outline his feature in the pitch-black darkness.

“Master… Diluc…?”, he croaked, his speech heavily slurred, his voice barely coming through. He struggled to focus on the figure looming over him, his pupils were like glossy marbles threatening to roll to the back of his head.

“Yes, yes it's me. Venti, stay with me, please! Don't pass out!”, Diluc pulled the bard closer and held his head, but to no avail, he started going limp in his arms. “Venti, it's not safe here!”

In a desperate attempt to keep the bard awake, Diluc shook him and regretted that decision when he saw his cheeks bulge out. Venti bolted upright with a sounding heave and more watery vomit splashed onto his own lap, completely covering it. His green shorts and white buttoned-up were dyed a sickly shade of purple.

He fell back, deflated, his chest jumping as he tried to catch his breath, threads of vomit still clinging to his chin and nose. Diluc shuddered, feeling the warm liquid drip down to his thighs and quickly cool as it reached his skin. He didn't let go of the bard however, he held him even closer as he shivered violently, seemingly disappearing within his arms.

“It h-hurts…”, Venti stuttered, burying his face into the man's chest, trying to chase away that horrible cold burn that seemed to be coming from within him, anything to stop that nauseating pain in his whole body. “M-Make it stop…”

Diluc was completely lost. He didn't know what was wrong with him if anything was even wrong. He was an archon, he used to be one, archons couldn't die, could they? Not like this, not in his arms.

And the smell… The panic had been clogging all of his senses, making his vision tunnel around the small bard nestled within his hug, but now that he could actually, the smell of sick hit him full force. Diluc had to hold his breath, gasping through his mouth as he noticed how strongly it smelled of alcohol.

Venti tensed harshly within his arms, his small hand pawning at Diluc's cape, pulling on it as his face buried deeper in his chest. Diluc stiffened every muscle in him when he heard him groan, the noise was muffled and short-lived, sounding deeply pained.

It was the only warning Venti mustered, and in his state, it was even more than he could. He tried to hold it, pushing on Diluc to put distance between them before he lost it.

He couldn't even retch, it simply came up without a struggle, a torrent of sick covering the both of them. It cascaded down Venti's buttoned white shirt, dampening it and gluing the stained fabric to his skin. Diluc's clothes weren't safe either, the long-sleeved shirt he wore under the tattered cape wasn't spared and got completely covered in vomit.

He locked his breath, trying to not gag himself. It was sickening, he could feel his own stomach revolting against the feeling of warm puke coating his skin.

“Ugh—, eurgh”, Diluc gagged, and hurriedly pressed a fist to his mouth when he felt the taste of his dinner flood his tongue. He clenched his eyes shut, trying to focus on breathing, but even that assaulted his senses with the smell of stomach acid and alcohol.

He couldn't vomit, he wouldn't vomit. Taking a shaky breath, he gulped down and locked his throat, waiting for nausea to pass. His rush of adrenaline was passing, all he could feel now was his guts churning.

When he made sure he could take his hand off his mouth, he looked down at Venti, whose only signs of life were the occasional hiccups shaking his shoulders, and the vice-like grip he held on his cape.

“Venti?”, he called, his voice still loaded with nausea.

“I'm… sorry…”, he repeated, a pitiful sob cutting his sentence in half.

Diluc widened his eyes, taken aback. Was he crying? Venti never struck him as an emotional drunkard, but taking how much he had already vomited, and how much he seemed to be holding back, he didn't know what to think anymore.

“You… drank way too much again, didn't you”, he asked, his tone spreading confusion. Something told him that wasn't it, Venti had an ungodly tolerance he had witnessed before, for him to be vomiting this much, for him to complain about pain…

“S-Something was wrong…”, he muttered in between shaky breaths. “That drink…”

Diluc cocked his head. What drink? He hadn't served Venti these past few days, and he was sure Charles, the bartender at Angel's Share wouldn't hide it from him, considering Venti rarely paid in the first place. In fact, a few patrons had been wondering where their friendly bard had run off to. Who else was going to play such cryptic ballads? Something definitely was wrong.

”We need to go”, he informed Venti, and while his tone came off dry, his heart was at the back of his throat. “I'll take you to Jean—”

“No!” Venti cut him off, raising his eyes to Diluc, who felt his heart split into two when he finally saw the tears. “She can't h-help…”

“What happened to you?” Diluc finally asked, his eyes wide, in the heat of the moment, he had all but forgotten the conditions he had found Venti in. “A-Are you hurt?”

Venti shook his head weakly, but to betray his words he flinched, pain flashing across his face. He curled into himself, arms wrapped tightly around his middle. Diluc held his breath out of instinct.

“Is it your stomach?”, he asked, pulling the bard even closer as he tried to look at him, to find what exactly was wrong with him. He nodded, even weaker.

“I think I've been poisoned…”, he struggled to say.

The nobleman's mouth instantly filled with questions, but before he could utter any of them, Venti winced within his grasp and curled into himself.

“Hng, you have to take me to… Windrise.”

That gigantic oak tree, it would take a while to get there on foot, especially with the injuries Diluc had sustained, and the exhaustion settling in both of them. Still, he couldn't leave Venti here.

Diluc held the bard close and stood up, feeling the wounds on his side burn anew as he started to run.

His heart was trashing inside his chest, the wind was biting cold on his damp clothes. Venti's breath hitched as he continued to sob, no doubt the violent motions were only making everything worse, the pain and nausea threatened to put him under once again.

He was small within his arms, and it looked like he was turning even smaller, getting close to disappearing. Venti fisted the sleeve of Diluc's cape, bringing it to his mouth as he felt like he was going to vomit once more.

This time he only managed to bring up a mouthful of thin puke, it quickly seeped into the soiled fabric.

The nobleman glanced down as he felt that now all too familiar feeling of hot vomit covering his chest. His clothes were beyond saving at this point, he paid no mind to it. Mercifully, in the dim light, he couldn't see the wisps of red within the regurgitated wine, all he saw was poor Venti coughing wetly as the remnants of his spells seeped out of his nostrils.

“Shh… Breathe”, Diluc shushed him tenderly, briefly running a hand over his shoulder before he glanced up again. They were nearly out of the city.

The darknight hero quickly reached the front gates of Mondstadt. The ghostly empty streets brought him a visceral fear, he felt like several eyes astray were crawling on his back. It was a sickening feeling, his stomach winced violently, his breath stopping as he realized he couldn't let go of Venti, he couldn't defend him.

The wind howled, his footsteps echoed along the stone bridge, then the grass took its toll, severing the silence for only a moment. Not a soul was in sight, but Diluc could feel the abyss watching him, its eyes clinging to him. Refusing to let go.

“Hang in there… Venti”, he huffed, clinging to the bard in his arms. He responded with a wince, sinking even further into his chest, as if he could just disappear into it. Diluc prayed he wouldn't, that form was strong enough to withstand whatever they had done to him. “We're… almost there…”

He was nearly out of breath as he uttered those words, but as soon as the oak tree came into view, he rushed his pace, nearly tripping over himself. Almost there. The sense of security that vision brought left the darknight hero careless, and open. He didn't realize the figure encroaching on his peripheral, he only felt the sharp pain open a gash on his flank.

The darknight hero tumbled to the ground, sending two limp bodies rolling over the grass. They only stopped at the foot of the hill, the shadow of the oak tree looming over them, its spiraling roots reaching out for them.

Diluc sucked greedy gasps, one after another, his chest was jumping wildly, trying to recover the air stolen from his lungs. The biting wind on his open wound was like a sheet of paper being torn in two, the pain was making his vision wave, and he didn't know if he could trust his other senses. He raised a shivering hand over it and placed it over the gash, his searing hot blood poured over his glove.

He forced himself onto his elbows and raised his head, looking around for Venti. The sunken form of the windborne bard was only a few steps away from him, wrapped tightly in his green cape, still as a stone. Then he heard it, the abyss mage cackling, it was enough to make him ignore the screaming pain.

Diluc didn't think of what it would do to him, he was moving before he even realized it. His body begged him to lay down, but he stood up, hot blood flowing from his side, dangerously close to his innards. He didn't think, he assumed his fighting stance and called upon his blade.

Between the blur of exhaustion and the wavering dark shadows, he couldn't see the next attack, even if the wind carried it so gently toward him. He only felt it when the cold water engulfed him, then it was already too late.

Diluc grew desperate as he realized he couldn't breathe, the air had become water and his choices had become two: he allowed it in his lungs, or he held onto the little air he had in them until the bitter end. He clutched at his throat, the pressure was increasing, and his surroundings were growing darker.

There was a name in his mouth as it finally opened, he could taste his own blood tainting the water as it filled his throat.

The impact of his body hitting the ground was enough to drive Diluc awake. His eyes flew open, and he turned onto the grass, clutching it as he hacked violently. His lungs were on fire as he tried to take in a breath, but his efforts only brought out water, splashing onto the soil until it took a much denser consistency.

Diluc retched in between bouts of salted water until his stomach contents were piling onto the grass. When he could finally breathe, his sinus burned from the mixture of the scorching acid mixed with fresh blood in his mouth. The remnants of heavily digested day-old food clung to his chin and mouth, dense ropes of a sickly orange that smelled foul, far worse than what Venti had done.

He raised his eyes from the tainted grass at last, his ears still ringing from the pressure in his head, his soaked clothes weighed him down. Through matted hair and swimming vision, he caught it in time.

The windborne bard raised to his feet, a teal glow framing his face, anemo power oozed from the tips of his braid. One arm was raised graciously, one slender hand cupping the air, bending the element around it, pointing to the abyss mage hovering above the ground. It spat words at the former archon in a language long lost, but it earned no reaction out of him.

The wind currents gathered into a spiral, surrounding the abyss mage who looked down to see the glowing sigil form under it and suddenly suspend it. Like a bubble of soap being carried into the wind, it popped.

Diluc watched as the abyssal creature was torn from limb to limb before his eyes, a paper doll in the hands of a child. A gory mess plummeted with a sickening wet thud, its filthy blood oozing out of the pile, filling the air with a nauseating scent. He gagged, then dropped his head to the puke pile in front of him and gagged again, vomiting onto the grass once more. This time he couldn't tell if it was out of pain or relief.

He dared to glance at it again and found ghostly blue flame was consuming the corpse, soon there was no trace left of it. His vision blurred after that, he must've lost a few seconds, because when he realized, Venti was kneeling by his side, shakingly rubbing his shoulder.

The darknight hero struggled to sit up, holding his wounded side with one hand, the other went to wipe his mouth, which made little difference. Diluc was completely drenched in all kinds of filth.

“You are bleeding”, the windborne bard told him and something about the newfound glow in his aqua-green eyes told Diluc he wasn't talking to Venti, but to lord Barbatos.

“It-It's… nothing”, he rasped, surprised at how weak his own voice sounded.

A soft chuckle left the bard's lips and he shook his head, his braids following the movement.

“You said you would take me there, didn't you?”, he said, strangely calm. “Let me help you the rest of the way.”

Venti didn't wait for confirmation, hd crawled under Diluc's arm, unphased by the water and blood dripping from him. A deep groan left Diluc's lips, his wound oozed blood as he was forced upright, the pain spiraled throughout his whole body.

The couple of steps it took to the foot of the oak tree threatened his vision with darkness, but Venti's presence strangely was the only thing that held his conscious. He lowered him down, onto the grass, and leaned against the bark.

Diluc closed his eyes and breathed deeply, albeit carefully, it burn where his skin had been torn off, such was the power of an elemental attack taken head on. It was a deep cut, but one he had walked off before, getting hurt like was all in day's work. He would survive.

Then he heard it, the beautiful melody of his lyre. Diluc was willing to crawl, he would carry his suffering along with his sense of duty. Yet, when he saw Venti, radiant despite his dishelved appearance, strumming his fingers along the strings, it carried his pain off his shoulder and onto the wind.

“This will not cure you”, the windborne bard advised, opening one glowing aqua-green eye. “But it will give you strength to reach home, no matter how grave your injuries are.”

Diluc fell back and drew in a deep breath, staring into the luscious foliage of the oak tree above them. The moon peeked from the gaps.

“No, I'm not leaving you here”, the stubborn hero refused.

Venti let a smile take form on his lips, a chuckle rest within his chest, waiting until the song of his strings came into an end. The wooden instruments came undone within his hands, transformed into feathers, then lignt.

“You're in worse shape than me. I...'ve been poisoned”, the bard said, no urgency in his voice, only that playful innocence. “You already brought me here, there is nothing more you can do.”

Diluc wanted to protest, he wanted to say no, Venti would come with him to the Winery, he could arrange the finest room to him, luxurious clothes and the best doctor Teyvat had to offer, but both of them knew. He didn't need it.

“I'll be fine”, Venti said, and his smile was sincere, even if it hid a stained tongue. “Go now. Come see me in the morning if you wish. You'll find me.”

Diluc rose to his feet, clinging to tree as his body swayed. Despite everything in his body begging for him to give up, he found strength to stand. He looked down at the bard, at his dark blue head of hair and his teal cape, his rosy face and his aqua-green eyes, contemplating that form he had chosen.

“It is a promise, then.”

Venti waved him off, with a hand completely hidden inside his sleeve, he watched as the dark silhouette of the darknight hero staggered away, his tattered black coat dragged over the grass like a broken wing.

Once he had disappeared, Venti looked up at the oak tree, smiling weakly at that familiar view, letting the wind sweep his form away, until he was lighter than air itself.

#emeto #emetophilia #vomiting #tw vomit #tw emeto #gen/shin imp/act #genshin emeto #gen/shin imp/act di/luc #gen/shin imp/act ven/ti #sickfic #hurt and comfort #then hurt again #mentioned je/an #poisoning whump #stomach ache whump #requested #dana//emeto fic #my writing

[danafeelingsick]

ɴᴏᴠᴇᴍᴇᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 2022

@monthofsick

ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛ ʟɪsᴛ | AO3 ᴄᴏʟʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

ᴅᴀʏ 20: Panic attack/anxiety

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1,8k~

3 [out of it], 13 [shaky and shivery] and 20 for Diluc

ᴀ/ɴ there you go anon! i wrote this one in a daze honestly, but I'd be lying if said i didn't enjoy making diluc this miserable 👹✌️

TW EMETO

Diluc took a cautious sip of his drink, paying close attention to every subtle note of its flavor. The sweet and only slightly sour taste of grape juice bathed his tongue but soon came the bitter aftertaste, and he couldn't help but want to gag when his mouth went dry.

Backed against a wall and begrudgingly sipping a tall glass, he must've looked inviting to all of his hosts, but it was on purpose. There was something off about the zest his drink left behind, how it plagued his palate for a moment too long, a taste almost too fresh for a bottled beverage.

Diluc tried to push these thoughts away, uncomfortably licking his dry lips, a subtle scowl tugging at them. It was useless, he couldn't tell the bitterness of poison apart from the subtle one the beverage left but he could consider himself a lucky man for that.

Even more useless was trying to find it in the first place. The affluent owner of the Dawn Winery had hunted down one of his servants and made them open a fresh bottle he had personally picked from the stock, to take only a glass of it. There couldn't be poison in it, not a chance, but how could he be so sure? Someone could've sneaked something into his drink when he wasn't looking, anyone who worked in the Winery could've…

No. Some master he would be if he couldn't even trust his own servants. Then again, what type of vigilante would he be if he couldn't keep watch of a simple room? Let alone an entire city.

Diluc closed his eyes for a moment, thoughts racing through his head like the many voices filling the ballroom. He gulped audibly, bringing the rim of his glass to his lips, but gave up on taking a sip when he realized just how much his hands were shaking. The dark liquid rippled inside, and for a moment he couldn't stop looking at it. The tips of his fingers were numb holding the stem, he could almost feel his heart palpitating on each of them, his blood rushing to every pore of his skin.

With his gaze locked on the swirling juice, watching as it seemed to thicken and coagulate before his eyes, he missed when the clacking of sturdy heels came his way. It was hard to tell anything from the chatter of the party, and the growing blood buzz in his ears.

“Enjoying yourself from this far?”, a smooth voice asked from the side. Diluc whipped his head to find Kaeya standing there, the stem of an empty glass between his slender fingers, and a conceited smile hanging from wine-stained lips. “Sorry for the wait. There's a great selection of wine waiting for you over there, have you tried any?”

Diluc blinked, but not in surprise, darkness lingered at the corners of his vision, and all he could focus on was Kaeya right in front of him. The smell of alcohol subtly wafted off him, telling. It was enough to turn his stomach, just the sight of him, what he knew, and what he did.

“What is it? Some host you are, hiding from your guests” Kaeya spoke again, his playful tone getting lost when his voice sounded like coming from underwater. “You won't say hello?”

Diluc opened his mouth to say it, almost mechanically, as he'd always do in events like this, sing his praises in the most petulant tone he could muster on a straight face, but his voice refused to come out. He could feel his heart on the back of his throat, tightening with each thump. He took small passed breaths, warm air pulling back as soon it left his nostrils. A bead of sweat rolled down his neck, staining the fine fabric of his collar, dampening his back, like his clothes were alive and trying to smother him.

It was like time had slowed down. Kaeya stepped forward, one hand reaching out. Diluc flinched, then gasped when the man's fingers clutched at his shoulder, firmly planting him back on the ground, holding him in place.

“Whoa, are you… sure you didn't drink anything?” Kaeya risked the last jab before the playfulness of his voice was gone. Diluc shakingly raised his eyes, only slightly surprised when his glass reappeared on Kaeya's hand. He took a careful whiff of it, his eyebrows raising before he asked: “Is this grape juice?”

“D-Don't drink it”, Diluc mustered through labored breaths. He clutched his chest, feeling it tighten, his heart lunging against it like it was trying to break free. “I-I think I’ve been poisoned.”

Kaeya was silent for a moment, as he measured the odds in his head, looking from his empty glass, to the one half-empty, then to his brother, who looked seconds away from falling over.

“You know that’s impossible”, he said, giving both of the glasses a quick swirl for emphasis, but Diluc only seemed to grow paler, his breathing came in short hiccups. If this kept up, soon he would need both of his hands. “Diluc, you're not poisoned. You know that.”

“H-How can you be sure…?” he whispered, nearly slurred as he struggled to swallow, his tongue tying itself into a know. “I was so careful, but… but, still… I could be –”

“Diluc, you have to calm down. I only left your side for a moment”, Kaeya responded sincerely, his grip on his shoulder tightening when he saw his gaze drop to the ground. He was trembling. “Diluc, look at me.”

He did as he was told and raised his eyes. Kaeya felt his heart break in two when he noticed the glisten of tears pooling under them. Diluc's lips were the same tone as his skin, quivering like he was trying to hold something back.

“I… I need to vomit”, he pleaded shakingly and pressed his lips into a thin line, his cheeks quivering as he neared his limit. The urge to cry was so clear in his voice, Kaeya didn't waste any time.

He nodded, whispering tender words of comfort as he carefully slid a hand to his back for support, ready to catch him at any moment.

“It's alright, I'm right here with you. We're going outside now, okay?”, he reassured, gently guiding Diluc forward, one step at a time.

Thankfully, the ballroom wasn't as full as Diluc's racing mind made it out to be. Kaeya was able to lead him out discreetly, keeping close to the walls for safety until they reached the exit. He took the opportunity to leave both glasses on a table as they passed by it.

The cold air would've done well for Diluc if he was able to take a full breath of it, but the brief walk seemed to have forced his lungs to the max. He was nearly wheezing as the two stumbled outside like a drunken couple. Kaeya had an arm around his waist and the other on his back, softly patting when a hiccup threatened to break the man.

Before Kaeya could even be sure they were out of view, he lowered Diluc on the gravel path and knelt beside him, his hands never leaving him, even as the man heaved breathlessly under his touch.

“Shh… you're okay now. There's nobody around, it's just the two of us”, he encouraged, slowly rubbing circles on his back while pulling his ponytail away from his shoulder. “Just try to get it up.”

Shakingly, Diluc parted his lips and held his tongue out, airy hiccups quickly morphed into unheard sobs as only a line of drool dripped off his mouth. His voice was a pitiful whine as he called out for Kaeya, who gave up on patting his back and just pulled him closer, humming tender words.

“I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere”, he promised, throwing all caution to Barbatos when he hugged Diluc, and the man broke into a dry heave that spilled his tears. ”Don't worry, just let it out.”

“...ugh— eurGh… uRrRRgh— bleEeuUurrGggHHh!”

Diluc took his advice to heart as he lurched forward and retched continuously, barely contained by Kaeya hugging his side when he let out a gurgling surge of watery puke onto the gravel. The purplish mixture splashed sharply, so violently that small pebbles lifted with the dust, leaving an abstract pattern on the ground that was quickly ruined by another splash of runny vomit.

“That's it… there you go”, Kaeya reassured, slowly pulling back to his previous position, holding Diluc's low ponytail away from the line of fire as his head whipped forward.

With another pained retch, he brought more of that acidic juice concoction in a sizable wave, gasping for air as it tapered off into a trickle. No doubt he was feeling so anxious, his stomach must've been empty aside from all of that liquid. Kaeya knew well how he got during events like these, around so many people, it wasn't anything new, but it had never been this bad.

“There you go…”, he repeated, patting his heaving back as Diluc hacked painfully, trying to clear his throat of that awful burn. “Think you're done now?”

Diluc shook his head and a second later his shoulders came down, another mouthful of stomach contents hitting the ground, closely followed by another heavy gush that left him breathless, nearly choking on how much his stomach was spewing out. His vision must've blacked out, because when he realized the ground was inches from his nose, and Kaeya's arm wrapped around his chest was the only thing holding him from falling.

“Don't pass out on me now”, Kaeya reprimanded, but his strained voice gave away just how worried he was. “Diluc?”

“I'm not… going to”, he slurred through tears, the strain clear in his voice, but at least he seemed calmer now. Still sniffling as he breathed in and out, but finally able to fill his lungs fully. “I don't know what came over me, I was–”

“Not poisoned”, Kaeya completed, to which Diluc just gave a weak nod, frowning as he looked down. “I know, and I'm sure of it. I was with you the whole night. Are you feeling any better now?”

“Y-Yeah…”, he admitted, swallowing the few sobs still left in him. “Gods… did anyone see me?”

Kaeya simply shrugged, daring to look at the puddle of vomit on the ground. Most of the purplish-red liquid had been soaked by the gravel already, but a few small lumps of barely digested food stayed behind. He tried not to pay much attention to those, recognizing every bit of food he had also ingested when it still looked the part.

“I did, but you're used to that already”, he said finally, looking back to Diluc. “You're okay now, right? Think you can go back?”

“I-I suppose…”, he responded, not an ounce of confidence in his voice.

“No, we'll wait it out here”, Kaeya didn't suggest, he simply said as it was. “You don't have to go back there.”

#Novemetober 2022 #nov(emeto)ber 2022 #vomiting #tw vomit #tw emeto #alcohol mention #tw alcohol #poisoning #read as familial only #read as platonic only #gen/shin imp/act di/luc #gen/shin im/pact #kae/ya gen/shin imp/act #genshin emeto #sickfic prompts #dana//emeto fic #my writing

[danafeelingsick]

I really like the idea of Diluc throwing up from drinking hard liquor since he can’t handle alcohol really well hard liquor must make him very sick. Can you draw either Jean or Kaeya holding Diluc’s hair back as he throws up from drinking too much hard liquor? I would appreciate that a lot thank you so much I love your art!

hey (again?) anon! am i safe to assume you are the same anon? because these two ideas go so well together. thank you for the kind words as well! ⸝⸝•ᴗ•⸝⸝)

so, here's your request. tried to imply the hard liquor part with the color, but it isn't all that convincing (references for these are hard to go by so...) i chose j.ean instead of k.aeya because i've been dying to feature her a bit more (i mean, hot tall lady, how can i not?), but i just haven't gotten to that yet. i have so many ideas going around...

#emetophilia #emeto #vomiting #gen/shin imp/act #gen/shin imp/act di/luc #genshin emeto #emeto art #requested #implied alcohol #dana//emeto art

[danafeelingsick]

Could you draw some Venti emeto? Him puking all over himself or over Diluc?

there you go anon, i hope you like it. and sorry it took me so long, i had a busy week, wasn't home for most of it, and when i was, i didn't have much time to draw. but once i got to it i was done in three days-ish, and kinda happy with the result.

i put some extra care into di/luc's curls and had to research how his shirt worked. ven/ti on the other hand just gave me trouble on drawing him without his hat (honestly i hate hats in general, my hate is unexplained).

NON-KINK BLOGS AND MINORS DNI

tw vomit and tw implied alcohol below

#i couldn't resist making di/luc curly-haired #i'll try to do it more #it looks to emo for me otherwise #emetophilia #emeto #vomiting #tw vomit #digital art #genshin emeto #gen/shin imp/act di/luc #gen/shin imp/act ven/ti #requested #tw puke #tw alcohol #emeto art #dana//emeto art

[danafeelingsick]

Novemetober 2023

Also happy Valentine's day ❤️

@monthofsick

Prompt list | Masterlist | AO3 collection

Day 14: Can't keep anything down

* combined prompts visibly ill and out of character

Word count: 1.4k~

CONTENT WARNINGS: narrated in 2nd person, y/n is a maid at Dawn Winery in this one, gender-neutral reader, descriptions of vomiting, descriptions of food

Anon asked: Hi, for the Nov(emeto)ber 2023 requests, could I have Diluc with prompt 14. Can't keep anything down? Thanks!

(let me know if you want to be tagged!)

A/N: so, whenever i'm feeling down i daydream about being one of diluc’s maids and these very overindulgent scenarios of one of being sick and the other, you get the gist. I was writing this myself anyways and it reeks of overindulgent mary sue. hope it's serviceable, i live in shame!

Dawn Winery's upper floor would usually be empty by the afternoon, when the staff would focus its efforts on cleaning after lunch. You found it perfect, at least no one else would see if master Diluc were to reprimand you for being nosy. You had already made up your mind.

You weren't the only one wondering why the young master hadn't left his room the entire day. While it wouldn't be out of place to say he could’ve left during the night on a one-man-expedition, no one had seen him leave. And you didn't think you could wait a week or even a month without notice to confirm that theory.

You reached his room, and found the door locked, though that didn't stop you from knocking. You listened closely for any sounds on the other side, and after what felt like several moments of silence, you knocked again for good measure, before you accepted that he had really left.

It took a minute. You only heard the muffled steps when they were already close, and the creak of the door as it crept open. It was just enough for the young master to shily peek through.

You almost didn’t recognize him at first. Behind the mop of fiery curls, his heavy-lidded eyes brimmed with tears, standing out against his pale complexion. His freckled nose and cheeks were also flushed pink, which made you suspect he could’ve been dealing with a high fever.

You had been right to worry. Diluc looked like death warmed over, and must’ve been feeling like it as well, judging by his affixed frown. His usually put together appearance was something you couldn't evoke at the moment. He slouched against the doorframe, shivering despite still being dressed in his pajamas. Could it be that the man had just gotten out of bed?

“What is it…?”, when he finally spoke, after staring at you for a while, his voice was hoarse, barely louder than a whisper.

“Ah…, pardon my intrusion! I've come to, uh, check if you need anything”, you started, already losing yourself on the script you had rehearsed. “The other maids were worried. You haven't left your room all morning, so, uh…”, as the words fell out of your mouth, Diluc’s expression seemed to sink. “Master Diluc?”

For a moment, you thought he was going to keel over, he certainly looked like he would at any moment. Heaving a shaky sigh, Diluc closed his eyes, and ran a shaky hand over his face.

“What time is it again?”, he asked slowly, as if the words weren't coming to him as easily.

“It should be around midday”, you responded, watching as Diluc pauses, his palm pressed to his eye.

“A-Already…?”, he muttered, to himself rather than to you, and combed his fingers through his hair. Red strands stuck to his clammy skin, beaded with sweat. “I must've lost track of time… I don't think I did all th… —”

The sentence turns to muttering as he presses his forehead to the door frame, looking frustrated as his eyes slide shut. You observed him for a moment longer. The man breathes heavily, his whole body trembling noticeably under the thin fabric of his pajamas, his eyebrows pinned into a frown. It almost feels like a scene you weren’t meant to see, you worry he would simply fall asleep on the spot.

“Um, sir?”, you spoke up, raising a hand as needing to leap and catch him mid-fall was becoming a real possibility. Thankfully, he opens his eyes at your call, blinking as if he barely recognized you. “Is everything okay? You don't seem well.”

Diluc glances up at you through his eyelashes, his look nearly pleading. He hums weakly, managing to nod.

“I-I believe I might be… sick”, he confesses, and it almost sounds like he's embarrassed. “I don't know when… it got this bad, but…”, he pauses, swallowing thickly. “I don't feel well at all.”

You hummed thoughtfully, taken aback by his honesty. He sounded so vulnerable, timid almost, you had never seen such a side of him before. You had never taken him for someone who would ask for help either, as quietly and reserved as you thought him to be.

“Oh no… Is there anything I could get you? Some tea, or maybe…”, you offered. “Have you eaten yet? Lunch has already been served, but I could still arrange something, if you wish.”

At your offer, the young master lets escape an uncomfortable sound, though he doesn't make an effort to hide it. He slowly shakes his head, his expression still tense.

“I haven’t had much appetite as of late”, he tells you quietly, swallowing as his hand wanders to his abdomen. You see the fabric of his pajamas stick to and can't help but think he looked rather thin without his black coat. “Wouldn’t it be too much trouble if I asked for something light on the stomach?”

“Of course not, I can make you some soup in a few minutes”, you promptly reassure him, to which he gives a slow nod. “Okay. Try to rest while I’m away, alright?”

“Ah, of course. Thank you… I’ll try”, he lets out a small chuckle, though that glint in his eye doesn't last. You try not to dwell on it as you bow and take your leave.

You softly knock on the door, a tray of hot soup balanced in your other hand and a moment later, you let yourself in. The young master sleepily glanced up at you from his bed, peeking from under a nest of red curls. He still shivered, even cooped up under several blankets. You feel the urge to feel his forehead and check for yourself the fever he was running, but you knew you would be overstepping at that point.

“Master Diluc?”, you call, trying to keep your voice hushed. “I’ve brought your soup.”

“Ah, right… thank you”, he answers weakly, his expression becoming somewhat strained. You wait as he begins to sit up, one hand wandering under the covers to hold his stomach.

You gently place the tray on his lap and he regards its contents with a slight frown, his lips pressed thin. You were able to make a simple cream soup in less than half an hour, careful to keep its flavor mild and texture smooth. It didn't look bad to you, but you didn't blame the young master for being cautious.

You see his throat shift as he swallows, his mouth seemingly watering.

“Take it slowly. Try a spoonful and if you feel you can't swallow it, just spit it out”, you told him, unfolding a napkin for safety.

Diluc is hesitant at first, but he does as you say and picks up a spoon, trying a small sip. His face is tense if not unreadable, his hand floats up to his mouth, but he manages to swallow it.

There is a pause before he stiffly eats more, his expression turning sour as he forces it down. It isn't exactly pleasant to watch, but you are somewhat relieved he is at least trying. You let him eat in silence, managing to get through half of the plate before his face turns to disgust.

“You don't need to eat it all if you can't”, you warn him, but he simply shakes his head, forcing down another spoonful of warm soup.

“N-No, I… want to eat it”, he replies weakly, his voice held back by his spasming throat.

“Just… remember to pace yourself”, you advise him as he goes for yet another bite. “The food is not going to run away from you.”

Before he has the chance to respond, the man freezes, the empty spoon still lingering by his lip when a nauseated moan stumbles out of his lips. That is the only warning he can give as he starts reversing and his cheeks suddenly fill. You can practically hear the soup swirling inside his mouth before he clasps a hand over it and desperately tries to swallow.

You think fast and grab a few napkins, balling it into a makeshift nest before you hold it to his chin.

“Ah, here!”, you try to tell him, but Diluc refuses, stopping mid head shake when his stomach visibly heaves under his thin shirt.

“H— URK!” Vomit sprays out from between the cracks of Diluc's fingers, coating his hand in the warm pale slurry that had become the soup he ate just moments prior. Some of it drips uselessly into the cloth held out, staining your gloves as well as the entire front of his once white shirt, making it nearly see-through as it sticks to his chest.

“EuRgh!” He gags graphically, pulling his soiled hand away as his mouth falls open.

This time you manage to hold the cloth under his chin, catching the next surge of undigested soup as it pours out of his lips. It quickly soaks into the fabric, staining it a deeper sickly yellow from the bile. You grimace as you notice it somehow feels even hotter than when it was plated.

For the sake of your own gag reflex you look away, affording the young master a smidge of privacy as he continues to empty his stomach. He heaves weakly, releasing another stream of vomit into your hands, the pungent smell of digestive acid takes hold of the room. You hear liquid gurgle in the back of his throat as it tapers off, and he sets off coughing as if he's drowning. It sounds painful, and you don't doubt it feels like hell on his throat and already sensitive stomach.

You risked a glance as you heard Diluc hiccup, seemingly done, though you didn't expect to find his eyes screwed shut, clear tear tracks trailing down his cheeks. His face was a mess of sick and snot, beet red as if he was straining to hold in his sobs. You took pity on him, though you decided to act on it rather than show.

Quickly, you fold the soiled napkins and leave it on the tray, exchanging it for a clean. Diluc’s breath hitches as he feels you touch him, though he doesn't try to pull away from it.

“Shh, it's okay”, you ease him, running the cloth over his mouth. He takes it from you, busying himself with it as you pull his hair out of the way, grimacing at the heaviness of the matted now vomit-soaked hair.

“I-I’m sorry, I — ”, he tries to apologize, his voice bordering on a whimper, but you stop him, offering tender words instead.

“No, no, it's fine”, you insist, picking up the tray, trying not to look at the mess in it. “I’ll clean it over here and then I’ll prepare a bath for you, okay? We can try again later with… maybe, something else.”

#emetophilia #emeto #vomiting #tw vomit #tw emeto #gen/shin imp/act #sickfic prompts #novemetober 2023 #novemetober day 14 #d/iluc g/enshin i/mpact #di/luc gen/shin impact #sick!diluc #x y/n #self-insert

[danafeelingsick]

can you draw diluc throwing up on Jean?

probably the sexiest jean i've ever drawn 😳

psst, i take commissions too

uncensored under the cut. minors DNI, this is your cue to leave. tw emeto

i'm feeling generous, so have a clean version for... no specific reason titties

#i am down catastrophic #emeto #emetophilia #vomiting #tw vomit #dana//rambles #gen/shin imp/act #genshin emeto #tw emeto #digital art #emeto art #emeto kink #kink art #requested #requests are closed atm #di/luc gen/shin impact #d.iluc g.enshin i.mpact #je/an gen/shin imp/act #dana//emeto art

[danafeelingsick]

!tw emeto! !tw vomit!

i've been holding onto this for a while now, my most detailed emeto art yet. loosely based on this one fic, more of a what if.

#if you like what you saw check my about page in a few days #i'll be opening nsf.w kink commissions! #so keep your eyes peeled if you wanna secure a slot #emetophilia #emeto #vomiting #gen/shin imp/act #genshin emeto #emeto art #vomit kink #di/luc gen/shin impact #tw vomit #sickfic fanart #dana//emeto art

[danafeelingsick]

ɴᴏᴠᴇᴍᴇᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 2022

@monthofsick

ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛ ʟɪsᴛ | AO3 ᴄᴏʟʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

ᴅᴀʏ 9: The first time ____ has seen ____ sick

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1,2k~

Heyo can I request for nevemetober the 9. The first time ____ has seen ____ sick prompt with Venti and sick Diluc? :D

TW EMETO

Diluc pushed past the door and hurriedly closed it behind him, hoping no one would come barging in to drag him back to the party. The uncaring sun greeted his eyes first, but he preferred it over the cluttered atmosphere of his own home, filled with strangers.

The server's area was empty as he had hoped, everyone was gathered inside the mansion, where a wine-tasting event was being held, aside from him and a few lonely tables and chairs. He pulled one and sat down, resting his full untouched glass on the surface, and staring at it with annoyance.

This could've happened any day, but as luck would have it, his body picked today to simply not cooperate. Diluc was sure he was sick and had been since he woke up feverish, without a sliver of appetite. And he remained that way through the day, his stomach aching and burning around the few bites he managed to force down, but nothing more.

Diluc breathed in deeply, trying to disperse that shuddering disgust etched in the pit of his abdomen. It didn't work, it only served to make him more nauseous. His head swam under the heat he was sure was coming from inside him, slowly cooking him alive.

The wind blew gently as if trying to provide some comfort, and while it was refreshing on his warm skin, it also brought the sensation of a pair of eyes gliding over him. Diluc looked away from his swirling wine and caught a glimpse of green as it disappeared behind a wooden crate, the footsteps were too light to be heard, but he hadn’t imagined it.

“I saw you, Venti. Come out”, he ordered with a sigh and shot his meanest look in the green figure's direction. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, master Diluc, good to see you!”, the bard stepped out of hiding, looking in every direction before flashing his most awkward grin. “I… wasn't trying to sneak in, I swear. What are you doing back here though?”

“That's none of your business”, Diluc responded coldly, clearly an invitation to leave him alone, but instead of acting hurt the bard stepped forward and shamelessly took a seat across from him.

“Hmm, are you drunk already? Your face’s quite red”, Venti pointed out, the sincerity in his voice sent Diluc's heart sinking through his back.

“I-I'm not drunk”, he grunted, putting all the energy he could spare into sounding harsh, deepening his scowl. When that didn’t seem to work, he crossed his arms over his stomach, almost protectively, hiding how hot and sensitive it felt. “I don't drink.”

“Wow, you’re missing out. You have all of the delicious wine you could ever want, and still, never drink any of it”, Venti snorted, but as he spoke his eyes shamelessly wandered to the full glass, and he nearly drooled.

Diluc couldn't keep himself from groaning, then rolling his eyes as if to mask the real intent, just listening to him talk made him even more nauseated. The heat coming from all sides, his constricting clothes, his churning stomach, it was already too much, he was nearing his limit.

“Listen”, he started, then paused to swallow when his mouth seemed to flood with saliva. The bard looked at him expectantly, then to his hand when it hovered over the filled glass. “If I give you this, will you leave me be?”

“Of course!”, Venti exclaimed, already reaching over the table to take his prize. “Wait, why do you want to be alone so bad?”

”Again, that is none of your business”, Diluc repeated, emphasizing the harshness of the phrase. “Just take it and go.”

“Don't be like that. At least let me properly enjoy it”, the bard said, bringing the glass to his lips with misplaced grace, but taking a swig as if it was a bottle of some cheap booze. He drained the cup in two more distasteful gulps, licking his lips as he put it back on the table. “Oh boy, this is amazing. You don't happen to have more, do you?”

“Venti”, he hissed and pinched the bridge of his nose when all of his headaches seemed to momentarily gather there. It was getting worse, he could feel his mouth filling with saliva again. “Just leave. I… I'm not feeling well.”

“Oh…”, realization flashed in his eyes for a second, only to be replaced by confusion. “Wait, you're sick? I would've never…”

“What part of leave do you not–?”, Diluc suddenly raised his voice, only to be cut off by a threatening gag that had him clasping a hand over his mouth.

“Oh no, are you going to vomit?”, the bard jumped off his chair, not waiting for the answer before he scurried off. “Hold on just a minute”, he shouted from a far.

Diluc didn't dare to respond, he just clenched his eyes shut and squeezed, trying to focus on holding anything from come up. Luckily Venti returned quickly, a wooden bucket in hand he had picked off some corner.

“Here, use this”, he instructed, shoving the bucket on the sick man's lap, right in time for him to bury his head into it, an audibly wet gag leaving him. “Phew… I made it. It's okay, just, uh, try to get it up.”

Diluc wrapped his arms around the bucket, bracing for the next gag with his lips parted. He could feel his stomach clenching, his abdomen sinking in as it pushed its contents up his esophagus, then out his mouth in a violent gush of acid.

“URgHhH”, he retched again, the sound scraping his throat, and spat, trying to rid his mouth of the burning taste. “Fuck, I– guh.”

His face burned bright when he felt Venti's hand sliding up and down his arched back, soft shushes following the motion. He could only groan in response, nausea slurring anything he could think of saying, the constant up and down only serving to make him dizzier.

Diluc heaved, bringing up another clumpy mouthful of stomach acid into the bucket along a string of wet coughs, it sounded like he was drowning. He spat, frowning at the lingering taste, and weakly raised his head from the bucket. Venti appeared in his vision, lending one of his whites sleeves to clean his face. He felt so exhausted he couldn't even protest, the nausea wasn't gone yet, but he couldn't handle the awful stench right under his nose.

“Are you sure you didn't drink?”, the bard asked as he retrieved his newly stained arm, not even batting an eye at it. “If you're really sick then we should start worrying.”

“I-I didn't…”, he rasped, sniffling almost dejectedly. Venti raised his eyebrows, then reached for his face, landing the back of his hand on his forehead. He didn't protest, his fingers were cool and soft against his burning skin. “Am I warm?”

“Yup, definitely…”, he nodded, trailing off as he cupped his cheek, lingering there as he looked the man in the eye again. “...fever.”

Diluc's gaze seemed to be lost somewhere as he fought against the swirling feeling in the pit of his stomach. Venti's words barely registered despite the request, he was standing so close to him, practically glued to his side, it was almost like he could let himself fall onto him.

“You should go back inside, and take a cold bath or something, before it gets even worse.”

“No, it's… so crowded in there”, he nearly whispered, blinking when his vision seemed to flicker.

Venti sighed almost longingly and turned to pull another chair closer. “Alright then, I can stay a little longer.”

#novemetober 2022 #nov(emeto)ber 2022 #emeto #vomiting #gen/shin imp/act #sickfic prompts #genshin emeto #tw emeto #tw vomit #di/luc gen/shin impact #gen/shin imp/act ven/ti #tw alcohol #fever #dana//emeto fic #my writing

[danafeelingsick]

ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ, ᴅɪʟᴜᴄ 2/2

NON-KINK BLOGS AND MINORS DNI

PART 1

PART 1.5

In which Diluc eats more than he should've at his own birthday party organized by Kaeya, and ends up sick only to find out something has gone sour.

ᴀᴏ3

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ nausea, bloating, overeating, overindulgence, food poisoning, burping, fever, graphic descriptions of vomiting, vomiting in public, verbal abuse, stomach ache

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ 5.2k~

❝𝙳𝚒𝚕𝚞𝚌 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚜 𝚋𝚞𝚕𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝, 𝚟𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚙𝚛𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝙺𝚊𝚎𝚢𝚊'𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚝.

It took Diluc a while to admit it, but something was wrong. If he hadn't been so engrossed listening to the conversation, he would've realized sooner. Or maybe, he had just tricked himself into ignoring the symptoms by shoving more food on top of them.

Regret soon dawned on him as he kept rolling the last few bites back and forth on his plate, none of it looked appealing anymore, and his mouth tasted odd. If his stomach could talk, it would be cussing him off.

Diluc had to breathe carefully, trying to contour the growing discomfort it would cause every time his taut paunch pressed against his belts. It was almost as if his dinner was breathing along with him, the motion sending it climbing up his esophagus and sliding back down.

At some point, he had laid a hand over the curve on his abdomen, sometimes letting it rest on his thigh when it came to suspicion, but when he was sure no one was looking, he would try to get his bloated stomach to settle by carefully rubbing it. Sometimes opting for running a finger between his collar and his neck to try and leave a little room for his adam's apple.

It would do nothing more than provide a fleeting relief when he managed to get a few small silent burps out of it, but soon enough the taste of acid would return to his mouth.

It was just an uncomfortable pressure at first, he could feel his stomach every time he swallowed, but it quickly evolved into an uncomfortable slimy sensation looming over him, almost like his throat all the way to his gut was growing smaller. Before he could do anything about it, without a doubt, it had become a swirling queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Diluc raised his eyes from the plate, settling his fork aside and taking a cup. His movements were calculated, the result of countless careful meetings and dinners, where he didn't know if the people were trustworthy, much less the food. He would slightly tilt the half-empty glass, let the juice touch his lips, and put it back where he found it.

No one seemed to be watching him, at least not anymore. He had managed to stay silent and simply exist in the room, listening to the chatter going back and forth. And yet, he felt the discomfort of having an unseen eye glued to his back, staring at him just from the corner of his vision.

Kaeya was in the middle of a one-sided discussion with Amber, who had already drifted off to sleep with her head on Eula's shoulder. Something about work and reports, and expeditions. Diluc was trying to keep up, but he was quickly lost to boredom.

Why did they even invite him if they were just going to discuss the Knight's troubles?

He drifted his attention to Lisa, who had pulled out a book and was patiently reading through it, sipping a glass of wine at the same speed she would devote to her work. Maybe he could take her as an example and simply ignore this whole thing.

He wasn't paying attention, Diluc noticed, watching as Kaeya carried the conversation, his face was flushed ever so slightly, almost unnoticeably under his tan. Nothing changed. He should've known better.

He should've known this party wasn't meant for him. It was all to stroke his own ego. To annoy him in the process. He should've just left when he had the chance.

“Is something the matter?” he heard him lean over and ask, meeting his eye to find a slimy smirk just underneath it.

The question caused Diluc to relax the frown he had been unknowingly holding, briefly closing his eyes and clearing his throat. Had he been transparent the whole time? He simply waved his head, his lips pressed thin as he bit the inside of his cheek.

“Oh, would you like some more?” he asked him, the distinct slosh of a half-empty bottle being raised to his attention.

Absolutely not, he thought immediately but opted for saying: “I think I've had enough, thank you…”

“Suit yourself”, he completed his tone carefully before returning to the usual playfulness as he turned back to the table.

As soon his sights were off him, Diluc resumed pouting at the scattered remains on his plate, he barely had the energy to mask his discomfort.

The feeling in his stomach had ripened from a queasy fullness to a constant, now certain nausea. He couldn't help but keep swallowing, almost involuntarily, every time it washed over him in waves, bringing an almost metallic taste to his mouth.

Diluc had eyes fixed on the half-glass of grape juice in front of him, its taste simmering in his mind, finding countless things that could be wrong with it. His lips hitched into a grimace as he realized how naive he had been, trusting something Kaeya gave him to drink. Kaeya, of all people.

The young master placed a gloved hand on his forehead, curving to rest his elbow on the table, his vision seemed to be slightly, almost unnoticeably blurry. His mouth felt far too wet, his eyes too dry, like the heat rising from his cheeks was boiling his eyeballs.

And his stomach– It felt like something was growing inside it, the restless churning like a writhing living being agonizing.

He gulped, the muscles of his throat audibly rubbing against one another, the motion seeming to send a large lump of air flushing down his throat.

“...guh”, the noise escaped him, along with a line of thick drool lazily trailing the side of his mouth.

He was sick, he had to admit it. He was sick to his stomach, and trapped in a room full of people. Something he ate must've been spoiled. He had been poisoned.

Maybe there was still time for a swift escape.

Diluc shakingly raised his eyes to find the entire room staring at him, his stomach plummeted to his feet. Out of some animalistic impulse, he backed out, dragging his chair on the wooden floor, the noise grating to his ears, his legs wobbly as he tried to stand up.

“Diluc, going so soon?” Kaeya's voice comes from his left, carrying confusion in his tone. “You hadn't cut the cake yet.”

He tensed as he heard it, latching onto the arm of his chair as his knees trembled. The thought of eating anything more made him lock his throat, his chest growing tighter as panic bloomed inside of it.

“I… I'll–”, even though he wasn't sure what he meant to say, his mind seemed to have come to a screeching halt as he felt his stomach jump under his belt. “...bur–”

“Master Diluc…? Is everything okay?” Jean's voice came from his right, soft and gentle, heavy with worry. He found her eyes glued to his face, wide with the same panic.

He briefly opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a gurgle deep within his stomach, announcing its contents rushing up his throat.

Diluc desperately clasped a hand over his mouth, his cheeks suddenly bulging out as searing watery vomit scorched his tongue. He realized with a shuddering exhale leaving his nostrils, how clearly it tasted like grilled meat, sickly sweet and half-burned mixed with awfully bitter, fermented grape juice.

The screeching of a chair being pulled sent him into further panic, causing his chest to heave, nearly inhaling the vomit filling his mouth. He was turned on his heels by a pair of quick hands, the motion sending his head in a full spin.

“What's wrong with—?” Kaeya began to ask, his words caught in his throat as he settled his eyes on Diluc. He had gone beyond pale, his otherwise intimidating scowl crumbled into pure misery as he covered his mouth, less than seconds away from bursting.

He didn't have much time to react before he saw his shoulders heave, his eyes going so wide they could jump out of his skull. Vomit violently sprayed from between the cracks of his fingers, speckles of it landing on Kaeya's clothes, dotting his fuzzy scarf, sliding down the exposed part of his chest.

Kaeya recoiled and jumped back as a heavy soup-like mixture fell between his feet, staining his shoes and the carpet with purple beyond repair. He looked from the ground at Diluc who could only choke behind his hand, trying to stifle his coughs.

“Oh, my!” Lisa exclaimed from the other side of the table, shutting her book. While Eula gasped, one hand covering her mouth in surprise, Amber barely twitched as she snoozed on her shoulder.

Diluc was mortified as he stared at his own vomit soaking into the red carpet, tears were gathering in his eyes from the effort of repressing the heaving of his chest.

"...e-excuse me–”, he managed to squeak out before turning and bolting for the door, his stomach already winding up for a second serving.

Jean was already up on her feet while Kaeya eyed the door, forcing himself to make a decision fast. The two exchanged knowing looks as he sprinted past her, making a run after his sickly brother.

***

Kaeya stepped into the hall, the heels of his now ruined shoes clacking against the tiles, a sound he was used to. However, the pained retching and greedy gasps for air filling in the silence were something he wasn't entirely used to.

He didn't have to look any further to find the source of the noise.

Diluc had crumpled to his knees in the middle of the hall, both hands holding the ground as his back heaved violently. With the sounds coming from him, one could easily mistake him for a drowning man.

Kaeya rushed up to him, just in time to watch as he burped up a steady stream of watery vomit, struggling to come up with the denser parts of it. It landed between his hands with a heavy, almost sharp splatter, forming a puddle that quickly spread, staining the beige tiles with a purplish boiling mixture.

“Oh… Diluc, couldn't make it?”, the cavalry captain cooed, kneeling beside him on the hard cold tiles.

The acidic smell of sick scorched his nostrils, a mixture of spoiled grapes and fermented yeast laced with meat, and he did his best to block it out, but the feeling of now cold vomit drying over his skin sent disgust shuddering all over his body.

Diluc barely seemed to register his presence, he was breathing much too heavily, gagging over the steaming pile of vomit soaking into his gloves, struggling to come up with more to add to it. It sounded like he was choking, retching empty over the ground, but he refused to move from there. It felt like if he tried to move, he would dismantle like a ragdoll.

“Sounds like you overdid it, hum. It happens, and it's not the first…”, the captain commented, trying to add a little humor to the situation, but he cowered as soon as Diluc shot him a mortifying look.

His face had been drained of its usual color, leaving only greyish circles under his glossy eyes and a rosy tint to his cheeks and nose. There was fresh vomit still dripping from his mouth and nostril, his lips had gone a few shades paler.

“I should've realized sooner you weren't feeling well”, he lamented, his eyebrows knitted together, an apologetic crease on his lips. Diluc responded with another struggling retch, managing to produce a small trickle of bile dripping out of his tongue. “But don't worry, okay? I'm not too mad about you getting your sick all over me.”

“Go… go away”, he whispered, his tongue sizzling between his teeth as he mustered all of his energy into sounding intimidating.

“I'm afraid I can't leave my little brother alone in his moment of weakness”, Kaeya snorted, letting out a mocking chuckle as he found Diluc frowning at his words, but unable to do anything except gag.

Brother. The word sent a cold sinking feeling to his stomach, only upsetting it further as nausea held his innard in a vice-grip. They weren't brothers. They were never brothers.

Diluc lowered himself further to the ground as he felt his stomach quiver from disgust, his abdomen sinking as it squeezed itself empty. A gush of watery lumpy vomit splattered onto his hands, covering them in chunks of undigested pastries and leaving stains up to his elbows. He felt pitiful, worst now that the bastard was looming over, no doubt with a smirk on his face.

“Look at you, poor thing”, he cooed, nothing but pity laced in his voice, now daring to lay on his quivering back only to feel the man wince under his touch. “Don't worry, I'll—”

“...leave me… huff, alone”, he hissed in between wet gasps. Even though he didn't turn to look at him, his tone gave him pause. Diluc's voice was completely shot, but still, he mustered a husky, almost like a sizzle, dripping with hatred.

“I'd rather not. You look like you're about to fall over”, Kaeya noted, reluctantly retrieving his hand, but still leaving it hovering over his back.

Diluc was left panting, seemingly struggling to come up with more to add to the puddle. It was a surprise, given how easily it was for him to vomit when they were still in the office. Then, again, Kaeya knew well how it felt to have his stomach filled with fluid on top of dense, dubious food. He wasn't even halfway done.

“Say, why don't we move to the restroom?” Kaeya suggested, going to gently rearrange the strands of fiery red hair glued to Diluc's face. “No use in dirtying the headquarters anymore, right? Think of poor Noe—”, his fingers barely grazing his skin when he jerked away.

“Don't– urp, fucking touch me!” he yelled, having to stop midway to swallow when a trickle of saliva fell out of his mouth. His voice was gone by the end of his sentence.

“Now, calm down Diluc”, Kaeya backed off with both hands raised as the man huffed, glaring at him, wishing looks could kill. “No need for this.”

“How many times… do I have to tell you? Fuck off”, he dotted every word with a pant, shaking his head as he felt warmth rising to his forehead. “I don't want your fucking help.”

“I couldn't care less about what you want now”, Kaeya retorted, having to hold back the sneer in his voice. "You need help, you are sick.”

“I'm– guh”, Diluc stopped mid-sentence, having to swallow something dense that suddenly threatened to overflow his mouth. “And who's fault is this!?”

“What part of you being an unsociable brat is my fault, huh?”, the captain pinned the bridge of his nose, struggling to reason with his feverish and delirious brother. “We all come together to organize something for you, and you get this mad? What an–”

“For fuck's sake, Kaeya”, his voice was lower now, garbled with apparent nausea as he struggled to swallow again. “It was that… that thing you gave me to drink.”

“What, the grape juice?” Kaeya went cold, thinking of the circumstances that led to this moment. Had he stored the bottle appropriately? Closed it well? Left it in the sun? “Oh, no… I– You might be right”, that last part was barely a whisper. He kept a close eye on Diluc, watching as he raised a soiled glove hovering close to his mouth. “Is it– Are you going to puke again?”

Diluc couldn’t respond, his throat was convulsing under the pressure of his stomach, and he had to devote all of his concentration to keep it locked. He clenched his eyes shut, his attention shifting to something else entirely, what was once a wish for this to be over quickly turned into begging for it to not happen again. Not there.

“Think you can make it to the restroom this time?” Kaeya asked, but didn’t get an answer other than a shake of his head. Diluc had his lips pressed into a thin line, his soiled gloved hand, now cold and slimy still hovering close to his mouth. “Come on, get up. No point in staying here, making a further mess”, he ordered, now frantic.

Not so carefully, the cavalry captain laced his arms under his sickly brother and scooped him off the floor, his form going limp under his touch like a fancily dressed sack of potatoes. Diluc let out a struggling whimper as the motion sent his innards into a painful knot, a newfound wave of nausea slamming into him as he suddenly became vertical.

He tried to say something, but as Kaeya threw his hand over his shoulder, letting his chin rest on him, he attempted to take a step. Diluc barely had the strength to turn his head before his cheeks bulged out, vomit spraying past his lips and coating the front of Kaeya’s chest.

“Ugh, shit…”, Kaeya could only lament as he felt solid pieces slide down his cleavage, the warm stomach acid soaking into the fabric of his clothes and quickly cooling. Was that his punishment for the poisoning?

He noticed Diluc’s ragged breaths were leaving a strange fleeting warmth on his neck while his skin was burning up, his chest hitching as he could tell he was trying to keep himself from throwing up once more. “It’s fine, you’re fine. Just try to breathe, okay? We’ve got a short walk ahead of us.”

Diluc gave a weak groan in response, his constant gulping so close to his ear it was unnerving, but he kept himself fairly awake, although with eyes closed to spare him of the blurred sights. He could tell Kaeya was struggling to carry him, given the small portions of alcohol still rushing along with his blood, but they made it up the stairs in less time than he could count, all the while reassuring him that everything would be alright.

It was fitting, almost, he thought, with how many times he had been vomited on by him during a drunk night, even more so in their youths. Diluc didn't have much time to ponder on it, his mind seemed to be working at a snail’s pace, and before he noticed, he was being lowered in front of a toilet bowl.

“There you go”, Kaeya huffed, kneeling along with him and only letting go when he saw Diluc wrap his arms around the cold porcelain, groaning pitifully. “May I? Rub your back now? You look like you need it.”

The sickly man wasn't up for conversation, he leaned further into the bowl, his face looming several inches away from the water and below.

“You… smell”, he grunted and spat a thick gob of foul-tasting saliva. “...disgusting.”

“The nerve”, Kaeya said, feigning the indignation in his voice, a hand hovering over his chest but not daring to touch the mess smeared over it. “That would be a no?”, no response except a small pitiful gag. “I'll just… leave you to it, then. Call me if you need it, I'll be just around the corner, changing out of these.”

He turned to leave, taking his sweet time to put his hand around the doorknob, in the middle of turning it, the door creeping open, he heard:

“...wait”, and he did, watching from over his shoulder as Diluc gripped the toilet bowl, gagging empty into it. “Can you… guh, fix my hair? It's getting in my eyes.”

The way he said it and the tone of his voice, almost like he was begging, had Kaeya's heart splitting into, kneeling back down beside his sickly brother.

“Of course”, he murmured a confirmation, taking the fiery red ponytail and carefully undoing it, holding the hair tie between his lips. Ever so gently touching his skin with the tip of his fingers as he brushed the strands and gathered them in his hand.

Diluc's hair was long and silky, his soft curls reaching to the middle of his back. He was almost distracted by the lack of cut when he noticed him tense up under his hands, a shuddering breath escaping his nose. He heard him swallowing, the pained gurgles of his insides, and he knew it.

“Go ahead, I've got you”, he instructed with the tie still between his lips, keeping Diluc's long hair behind his head with one hand, the other holding his feverish forehead and his uncut bangs out of the way. “Don't worry, I'm here.”

Diluc groaned in acknowledgment, not another second passing before a short belch cut through his throat. He pitched forward, a lengthy gush of puke coming up without much struggle, splattering into the water. Kaeya's hands followed his movements, applying a slight chilly touch to Diluc's scorching skin, gently guiding him through the motions as he kept heaving, the stream thinning out into a false stop.

“Easy… Just try to breathe”, he coaxed in a gentle whisper. “Breathe, Diluc… That's it.”

He tried, but his breathing sounded wet and desperate, setting into motion a fit of painful coughing as something got caught in his nose. It felt like his food pipe was rattling inside his chest, shaking until it came loose, sending vomit flushing out of him without any warning.

“That's it, get everything out”, he repeated, bothering with tucking the strands of his brother's hair behind his ear before he used the now free hand to rub his back.

Gurgling painful retches poured off Diluc at the same pace his stomach poured out of his mouth, in large bouts of sick guzzling out of him, continuously splashing inside the toilet loudly. It was no longer that concentrated purple color, now a less augmented more pinkish color, laced with reds of meats and browns of pastries, greens of leaves, and bright yellows of his stomach juices.

At that point, he didn't even want to think about the birthday cake, the guests who saw him, and their faces of disgust, but it kept lingering in the front of his mind. The guilt, the shame, the humiliation, leaving him stranded in an isle of pure cold panic.

“Shh, calm down. I'm right here”, Kaeya kept whispering, twirling the red hair around his hand to allow his fingers to caress his scalp. “You're okay…”

He wasn't, he was nearly drowning in his own sick, powerless to stop his body from purging its insides onto the toilet bowl. He could only alternate between wet coughs whenever he could breathe around the torrent leaving his mouth, and greedy gasps for air.

The water in the toilet had been thoroughly covered by layers upon layers of vomit, his stomach now tapping into what he had for breakfast that morning, the memory too buried under racing thoughts for him to even go look for it.

His eyes would flutter open as tears stung, but the sights of his own mess, the detailed chunks of barely digested food, clumps of wet bread and meat, cut-up vegetables, all bathed in glistening bile. It had him gagging further, forcing him to empty his stomach thoroughly, purging anything that came in contact with that horrid drink.

“Keep going now. Get it all out.”

Kaeya's words were being drowned out by his gurgling retches, losing their meaning every time he chose to say them. Yet, the hand on his back, tracing up and down the line of his spine, sent a welcoming cold to his feverish skin.

It seemed like it lasted forever, but eventually, he was left dry retching, his stomach nearly empty and sour like a popped balloon. There was a mixture of drool, snot, and warm puke hanging from his face in heavy threads, connecting him to the horrors below.

He spat viscously, trying to rid his mouth of that horrid taste, thick gobs of dense spit joining the top coating of congealed vomit in the toilet. He tried not to think of the possibility of it getting clogged.

“There you go, all done”, Kaeya said finally, hoping to be right this time. “That was… a lot, no wonder you were in so much pain. But it's okay now, you're done, right? You're okay?”

To his surprise, Diluc let out a shaking hum of confirmation, slightly nodding his head. There was nothing in his gray complexion and feverish skin that screamed okay, but still, he tried.

Kaeya went back to tending to his hair before he had the chance to interrupt it, arranging it in a low loose bun and tucking the strands that didn't make it in behind his ears.

“How are you feeling?”, he asked, running his palm over his back. “Better now that you managed to puke?”

“Ugh… I don't know”, Diluc groaned, not daring to raise his head from the bowl. “My stomach still… feels so sick.”

“Hum… this isn't good”, the captain sighed, guilt was creeping around in his chest. “I'm sorry, Diluc.”

“About…?”

“The juice was probably spoiled”, he finally admitted, genuine remorse boarding his voice. “I'm so sorry you had to go through this.”

Diluc gagged in his mouth, the realization sinking into his stomach like a rock in the middle of a lake. He knew it, he told him, but now, he barely had the energy to be angry. He slumped further into the toilet bowl, parting his lips to let a trickle of watery bile drip out and join the vomit below.

“Ugh… you're horrible, you know that?”, he panted, squeezing his eyes with newfound pain.

“Now that's going a bit too far. I already apologized”, Kaeya said simply, giving certainty that he wasn't all that sorry. Just guilty.

“You got me sick”, he muttered, sounding miserable. “Asshole.”

“Rude”, then silence, until a shy knock came at the door, giving both of them pause. “It might be Jean.”

Kaeya stood up and turned the door handle against Diluc's faint protests, he opened a creak to find the Acting Grandmaster herself, standing there wide-eyed, cradling supplies in her arms.

“Did he…?”, she asked, wrinkling her nose as she eyed the dried stains of caked vomit on his clothes and shoes, the trickle going down his bare chest, even in his hair over his shoulder.

“Yes, yes he did. And in the office, and the hall. And on himself. And now on the toilet, for a change”, Kaeya sighed deeply. “We'll have to quarantine the headquarters, most likely.”

“Don't even joke about it, please”, she returned the sigh, hers sounding more grieving. “So, how is he?”

“He's running a fever, complaining his stomach hurts. And it wouldn't surprise me if he managed to puke his childhood memories too”, Kaeya gave the rundown, trying to inject some unwanted humor into his summary. He barely earned a chuckle out of her. “Looks like food poisoning, but I think he was the only one that drank that grape juice.”

“My goodness”, she whispered, her eyes fixed on Kaeya's ruined shoes. “I'll go see if Barbara can help him in any way, but… I'm not too sure her vision allows her to cure these types of ailments. I mean, not even I–”

“Just… have medicine at the ready, in case”, he asked, watching as she shook her head and started rummaging through the stack of supplies in her arms.

“Here”, she extended a pile of folded clothes, he recognized it as a basic training uniform sewed together in all colors of thread. “I brought a change for him, but you look like you need it more.”

“Oh, thank you”, he took the clothes through the crack in the door, holding them away from his body. “Oh, actually, good thing you're here. Is the guest's room available, or is it still another storage room?”

“No, no, I just finished tidying it. You can take him there if you want”, Jean added, her expression indicating she had just forgotten it. “Do you need help taking him there?”

“It would be ideal, yes. But I'm sure he would never forgive himself if he got sick all over you too”, Kaeya added, eyeing over his shoulders the figure hunched over the toilet, barely moving.

“I really don't mind”, she said truthfully. “It wouldn't be the first, and besides, I've dealt with sickness before. It wouldn't be an issue.”

“If you insist. I'll go talk to him”, Kaeya decided, handing back the pile before he started closing the door.

“I'll put these away while you're at it.”

The door gently clicked shut behind Kaeya and he went back to kneeling where he was, laying a hand on Diluc's curved back to check how he was. His breathing was shallow, almost unnoticeable, but he slightly tilted his head to see the captain by his side, a look of pity on his face.

“Hey… How are you holding up?”, he asked, failing to recognize the irony in the phrase, he wasn't holding much of anything anymore. “Still… sick?”

He hummed weakly in response, struggling to keep himself awake, his eyes rolling to the back of his head only to return even glossier. The door creaked open.

“You're not planning on sleeping here, are you?” Kaeya joked but had a small suspicion the answer could be yes. “Well, there's a room at the end of the hallway waiting for you. Think you can make it there? Jean and I are here to help you.”

Diluc barely had the strength to respond, much less register the third person in the room with them, so he let out a short huff, indicating he had heard him. The nausea still hadn't cleared, but at that point, his stomach was so empty he could feel it sticking together like crumpled paper.

“Good”, Kaeya said, peeling his sickly brother off the floor and gently wrapping his arm around his neck. Diluc. “Up we go”, he said, slowly rising and supporting Diluc's whole weight over his shoulders. He felt a second pair of hands take his other arm, leaving him dangling between two tall figures. “Come on now.”

Jean didn't say a word until they reached the room, helping lower Diluc onto the bed. The man's weight off her barely made a difference. He sat there, looking half dead, supported by one of Kaeya's hands on his shoulder.

“We should try and get him to drink some water”, she commented, going to the old dusty nightstand and taking the bottle of water she had brought in earlier.

“Diluc? Would you like to drink some water?” Kaeya called, halfway through peeling his dirty gloves off. He simply shook his head, almost swaying in place. “Not now, then.”

Jean didn't insist, taking pity on seeing her former captain in such a miserable state, she stayed quiet, unsure of what to say as she watched Kaeya undo Diluc's attire, removing his shoes and helping him lay down.

“I'll stay with him 'till he sleeps if you don't mind. He's still running a fever”, he suggested, beginning to undo his own clothes with his back turned to her, a way to assure she would leave. “You should be heading home. It's quite late already.”

“Uh, alright…”, she said. “I'll be back in the morning with Barbara.”

The door opened, the door closed, and the two of them were left alone, in deafening silent swimming in his ears. Kaeya finished changing and sat down, laying a chilled hand onto Diluc's forehead, their skins melting against one another.

“I'm sorry…”, he whispered one more, meaning it, but Diluc had already drifted off to sleep.

#emeto #emetophilia #food poisoning #burping #fever #nausea #vomiting #stomach ache #gen/shin imp/act #di/luc gen/shin impact #kae/ya gen/shin imp/act #je/an gen/shin imp/act #li/sa gen/shin imp/act #am/ber gen/shin imp/act #eu/la gen/shin imp/act #mentioned barb/ara gen/shin imp/act #read as platonic only #platonic caretaking #two caretakers #hurt and comfort #tw alcohol #tw drunk #tw verbal abuse #tw emeto #dana//emeto fic #my writing

[danafeelingsick]

ʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴀs ғᴇᴀᴛʜᴇʀs

NON-KINK BLOGS AND MINORS DNI

Takes place during the Summertime Odyssey event of 2.8, where Aether meets up with his friends for drinks and Kazuha ends up drinking past what he can handle. And Venti finds out he is a quite squeamish.

ᴀᴏ3

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ alcohol abuse, mentions of alcoholism, dizziness, two sickies, two caretakers, descriptions of vomiting, vomiting in public, headaches, nausea, fever, burping, coughing, crying

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ 4.2k~

A/N admittedly i wrote this a while ago, at the start of the archipelago event, but i kinda forgot about it altogether, so here it is now. first time i try two sickies, exciting

       Kazuha woke up to a headache brewing inside his skull, leading to an uncomfortable pressure behind his eyes. His head felt light as if he was floating in plain air, his neck outstretched to reach the clouds. It would've explained why every gulp of stale saliva he took seemed to stop midway.

         It took him a moment to fully realize the world around him. Someone seemed to be calling him, from all directions, sometimes far away corner, then nearly glued to his ear. He flinched when he felt a tight squeeze on his shoulder, the hairs on his neck standing on end.

         Then finally, he managed to open his eyes, finding a familiar face blurring around the contours, colors smudging together, the whole plain tilting. His body felt limp, almost sluggish as he tried to move, realizing now he was inches away from burying his nose on a wooden floor.

         “Traveler?”, he slurred, his words barely understandable. His jaw clenched, holding his teeth from clattering together, he felt so cold he could start shivering.

         “Kazuha, are you awake?”, he heard Aether call, his voice coming from above him, and he realized who that gloved hand belonged.

         “When did I...?”, he started, words dying in throaty grunts before he could formulate more. A sharp pang ran through his head, making him flinch, his headache blossoming into a more concentrated migraine. ”Ugh...”

         Kazuha groaned, raising a hand to clutch at his head, but his movements were uncoordinated, clumsily, landing unsteady fingers on his cheek. Heat sparked under his digits, but it felt out of place when his lips trembled out of the cold.

         On his stomach, there was an uncomfortable fullness bending his lean abdomen into a plump curve, and yet there was a hollowness right in the middle. A false heat spread steadily, a burning cold, more like his insides had been frostbitten. It stung the organ's inner walls, plaguing his esophagus and bringing a raw metallic taste to his mouth. He tried to swallow, but the motion had his throat spasming slightly, threatening to make him gag when the small bit of drool seemed to weigh on his belly.

         The ronin felt a warm touch land at his forehead, drifting to his cheek, cupped in what he concluded were the traveler's bare hands. He nuzzled into the touch for a moment, seeking its comfort and wishing it lingered for more than it already did before trailing down to his neck. He let out a needy whimper when he no longer felt it, seeing the traveler chuckle slightly.

         “I never thought you'd be that much of a lightweight, but you really are drunk, huh?”, the traveler commented, rubbing his shoulder sympathetically. “C'mon, let me help you up.”

         A pair of dexterous hands slipped under his arms, holstering the drunk ronin to his feet. The sudden motion had his head snapping back, his limbs helplessly flailing as he hurriedly went to cup his middle. His gut sloshed uncomfortably, its contents noticeably swirling inside, making him think in detail of how it felt to be seasick.

         But he wasn't in the Alcor anymore, he had long since left the life of a tripulant to roam once more, but once his body grew used to its new sea legs, it wouldn't be easy to forget them. Kazuha swayed in place, his knees trembling like dry twigs threatening to snap under a gust of wind.

         Bubbles seemed to vibrate inside his tummy, mixing with the liquid to create a volatile concoction that gurgled up his throat, bringing a vile bitter taste to his mouth. There was nothing more than booze in his stomach, the only solid parts being the fruit of the cocktails he had been tricked into having, only contributing to the risky situation brewing there. Kazuha parted his lips, anticipating a small burp that tasted faintly acidic, he had to put a fist to his mouth, apologizing.

         “Here, careful”, the traveler instructed, guiding Kazuha to take a step back, then sitting him back at the table. Afraid he could just topple back to the floor, he held his shoulder against the wall, the only thing keeping him from folding like a sack of flour.

         “Poor Kazuha...”, a voice he recalled to be Xinyan's lamented. “So drunk he's falling off his chair.”

         “I easily drank double what he did”, another voice bolstered, that bard clad in green he had just met, Venti. He didn't even sound like he was slurring. “He better work on his tolerance, or else he won't be able to keep up.”

         “No one can keep up with you, you... deaf bard”, Paimon responded, the accusatory tone barely contained, as if there was more to be said.

         Little by little, Kazuha recollected the bits of information that were missing, and almost instantly he could notice that strong bitter aftertaste of alcohol permeating his tongue. The memory of sampling it, how the liquid tasted like it was biting the inside of his mouth, burning on the way down, and that sharp smell... How come he didn't notice?

         “Ughhh...”, he groaned again, bringing a hand to his belly, feeling the organ toss and turn under the loose fabrics of his outfit. “What was in that... juice?”

         The traveler gave a knowing, albeit dry chuckle, followed by the bard's mocking snickers.

         “You should order an apple cider to sober him up, traveler”, he suggested, clumsily setting down a mug, the fresh gulps of his drink still audible in his voice. “Actually order two just in case.”

         At thought of it, Kazuha's mouth watered and he could almost taste the acidic pull of fermented apples, his throat bobbed uncertainty and he shook his head.

         “Please...”, he grunted, pressing a fist to his lips when a careless burp slipped past him, his cheeks bulging to contain the next one. “I can't... drink anymore...”

         “Hah, that's funny. Just now you were mumbling more, more, more while you sleep”, Paimon mocked, trying to liken her voice to his drunken ramblings.

         Kazuha would've found the humor in it if it wasn't for his nagging headache growing worse by the second, his vision tilted. He tried to raise his eyes, not taking that hand off his mouth, the salty smell of his old bandages leaving him lightheaded, and met the dim lanterns of the tavern. The traveler must've noticed his look of desperation, the grasp on his shoulder getting tighter.

         “Think you can try some water, then?”, he suggested, leaning closer like someone would do to hear a child speak.

         “Mm-mmm”, he muttered, shaking his head slightly, his tongue squirming in the imaginary bare taste. Just the thought of adding anything else to his stomach had his throat clenching, winding up for a gag he tried to suppress. “Mmm.”

         Kazuha could feel the color draining from his face, his skin growing a degree colder, and he cupped his mouth shut, trying to breathe carefully through his nose. It could've been the thought of food, or just the booze finally getting to him, but something had spiked deep shuddering nausea swirling in the pit of his stomach.

         “I feel...”, he tried to speak, but his words sounded wet somehow, slurs dripping with raw nausea muffled behind his hand.

         He couldn't entertain the feeling for long, however, it grew from a general unwellness to a blaring threat in what seemed like seconds in his drunken state. He squeezed his mouth shut, pressing his lips into a thin line as the gagging started, no longer able to lock his gullet and suppress them. Muffled gulps denounced his state and his chest hitched, bordering on uncontrollable heaves as he tried to grip whatever was nearby as a last-ditch effort, Aether's wrist.

         “What's wrong?”, he asked almost innocently, lowering himself to Kazuha's level.

         “Traveler, you two might want to step out for a bit. C'mon”, Venti suddenly suggested, starting to get up from his seat, but his movements were as graceful as a drunken goose, and he nearly tripped over his own feet. Xinyan scrambled to grab him.

         “Oh! A-Alright, hold on”, Aether's eyes went wide as the urgency of the situation dawned on him, and promptly he tried to help Kazuha to his feet. The ronin wouldn't budge an inch, his feet were planted to the floor, his hand locked painfully around Aether's wrist. “Come on, Kazuha...”

         The drunk samurai could only shake his head stubbornly, unable to bring himself to move. Foolishly he thought he still had a moment to spare, to stay still and let the nausea ease up before he could attempt such a risky move, but somewhere in the middle of that nod, his stomach decided it had enough.

         A wet gurgle traveled up his esophagus, erupting in the back of his throat and flooding his mouth in an instant. His cheeks puffed out like a balloon about to burst, taking a worrying shade of red as regurgitated wine dyed the inside of his mouth. The taste was vile, sweet, and acidic like spoiled fruit, making his tongue curl, it took everything in him to not commit it to memory.

         For a second he thought could hold it in, his eyes were watering from the effort of locking his throat. Getting sick was nothing new to him, living as a wanderer provided him with plenty of opportunities for that, but now it was different. Alcohol left him powerless.

         Aether saw it, and tried to lift Kazuha again, but there was still a gentleness to his actions. As if there was some unregistered strength he was afraid to use. The pulling, even if delicate, jostling Kazuha's frame, making his head bob, sending him further into nausea.

         His stomach and chest heaved in sync, pushing its liquified contents up his throat, adding to the volume in his cheeks. The taste, even stronger, seeping into his tongue… He gagged harshly, finally breaking, and a cloudy purplish red liquid burst through his lips and out his nostrils.

         Vomit sprayed violently through the crack of his fingers, no matter how much he pressed, it coated his bandaged hand in that deep blood color, soaking into the ties.

         “Ack, no. No, no, no”, Venti jumped out of his seat, one hand covering his mouth as he suddenly paled.

         “Eek!”, Paimon shrieked from behind the traveler and flew to the other side of the table, where she hovered closer to Xinyan for safety.

         The traveler was frozen in place, torn between the choice of freeing himself and skipping from the line of fire, but leaving Kazuha without anything to hold onto while he heaved. He looked down in time to see something red pour over his golden boots. He could only shudder in disgust, shooting Kazuha a look of pity. The ronin sounded like he was drowning.

         “Mmm, guh–”, he choked, trying to muffle the sounds, but the gurgling in his throat was unmistakable.

         His eyes nearly drove back when he next gagged, his chest jumping to give room for another wave of regurgitated wine. It came up so forcefully that his hand nearly leaped out of his mouth.

         It felt like he didn't have control over his body anymore. All the alcohol and juice he had drank that night shot out of his mouth, splattering with a surprisingly soft sound as his hand flew out. The shock had made him release his grip around Aether's wrist, but it didn't help the fact that he had already covered up to his thighs in vomit.

         The ronin panted harshly, tears welling up in his eyes as his mind raced, conjuring so many apologies he couldn't utter. He could only wish it would be over soon, that the alcohol would make him forget that horrible night. By the archons, he would never show his face in Mondstadt again.

         “Whoa!”, Xinyan exclaimed from the other side of the table, finally getting up herself, nearly bumping into Venti as she backed away. The bard looked as stiff as a statue. “You okay there, buddy?‘

         “Oh no... Not you too!”, Paimon pleaded, backing away.

         Venti didn't hear her, he was still standing there, trying to look away from the disaster unfolding, but his eyes were wide open. His own throat was now bobbing, his tongue growing heavier inside his mouth, his saliva growing thicker. And without even realizing it, he found himself gagging as well.

         It was when Kazuha started retching that he couldn't hold it any longer. The sharp guttural sound of the samurai's throat scraping, the gurgling wet belch cut by a harsh spill, the constant struggled sobs. It had him thinking of his own sloshing stomach filled to the brim with booze.

         “That's... bad”, he panted, his mouth dripping, his voice distorted by revulsion. “That's r-really bad– URP!”

         Venti hurriedly spun on his heels, grabbing the attention of the last patrons who weren't staring at Kazuha already, including Xinyan. She could've sworn she saw him turn into a flurry of feathers as he bolted for the corner, trailing a path that should've knocked a chair over.

         The bard seemingly reappeared against the wall of the tavern, fiercely holding onto it, back turned to the audience as he promptly purged the contents of his stomach all over the wooden floor.

         “Welp, one more”, Xinyan sighed and followed after him, leaving Paimon to float anxiously as she watched the scene.

         Aether heard the scurring of heels gaining distance but didn't let that take his attention away from Kazuha. The drunken samurai buckled forward with another violent retch, spilling another mouthful of his stomach contents squarely over his boots. The traveler looked past it as he went to stabilize him, holding both his shoulders as he started to slump.

         While he tended to his friend, there was vomit soaking into his pants, quickly cooling as the fabric glued to his skin, but Aether didn't have it in him to be mad. Kazuha looked so pitiful that it made his heart ache and even ignore the sharp stench of spoiled fruit and alcohol.

         “C-Come on, Kazuha. Can you stand up?”, he tried in vain, finding no signs of an improvement in the ronin's condition. “We shouldn't stay here.”

         His plea fell on deaf ears. Kazuha simply buried his head between his legs, waiting with his mouth open while more violent retches wrecked his small frame. Seeing him tremble and spasm like that took a toll on Aether's sympathy and he leaned over, landing a hand on his back. He was shivering under the loose fabrics.

         Aether sighed quietly, gently patting Kazuha's back as the dry retching became harsher as if he was struggling to come up with more, but nowhere near done. His muscles felt sharp under his skin, winding up to launch him forward every time he heaved.

         “Easy there. It's okay”, he tried to soothe, but Kazuha wasn't listening.

         In the middle of his retching, one suddenly broke off into a gush of alcoholic puke, thoroughly soaking his own socks. The vomit splattered mercilessly, sounding too much like an open faucet pouring over the hard floor. The samurai gasped greedily in between bouts, barely able to catch his breath before more liquid erupted out of him.

         Aether found himself swallowing a lump of disgust in his throat, trying his damnedest to not look at the multi-colored puddle beneath both of their feet. At least the sounds were drowning out the patron's chatter, he couldn't help but feel his chest grow cold every time he caught their names in a whisper. It was inevitable, the tavern was nearly packed full.

         Kazuha let out a pitiful moan as his vomiting finally tapered off, coughing wetly over the disgusting puddle soaking into his socks. His head was spinning wildly, that otherwise sharp twinge in the side of his skull now an unbearable ache that felt like it was trying to squeeze his eyeballs, his brain had long turned into mush.

         His mouth was left open, unable to close as dense threads of bile and drool hung from his lips, connecting to the lines of snot pouring from his nose. He didn't even realize when he started crying, but now his chest shook with contained sobs, his throat gluing itself shut whenever he tried to suck in a breath.

         He could at least feel the traveler's presence nearby, his hand weighing on his back in a somewhat comforting way. It would've been better if he didn't feel like he was about to fall over.

         His bruised stomach murmured and he brought a shaking hand to it, nearly flinching when the organ immediately responded by sprouting a dull ache. The spell had been so violent, the heaving so grating, his gut was trying to turn itself out, expel until the last drop of alcohol left inside of it.

         “Mmm... ugh”, Kazuha whimpered as he tried to move, barely an inch off the chair and he felt swift hands lace around him.

         “Are you done?”, the traveler spoke from above him. “Kazuha?”

         “Hmm? Mm-hum. I-I think... think so”, he nodded weakly, his stomach following. His voice was coarse, barely a whisper as coat upon coats of acid had rendered his throat nearly useless.

         Aether remained in silence for a bit, watching Kazuha slowly regain his senses one by one, bringing a shaky soiled hand to wipe his mouth clean. Picking a napkin off the table, Aether lowered himself to his level once more and gently lifted his face.

         Kazuha grunted as his cheeks were squeezed by a thumb and an indicator, but didn't try to fight it. He couldn't even if he wanted to, so he stayed quiet as the traveler thoroughly cleaned his face, and then his nose. It barely made a difference, there was vomit on his feet, as well as his lap, and not to mention all over Aether, but it still gave Kazuha just the slightest bit of comfort.

         “Diluc's going to kill us...”, he heard Paimon say from somewhere, the name unfamiliar to him, but Aether seemed to twitch as he heard it.

         “L-let's hope not...”, he mumbled, looking down as he crumpled the napkin. “I wouldn't—”

         "BuuU- urRGH… bLEeeRgHHh!", a harsh retch coming from a far corner cut him off, and Aether turned his head to find a green silhouette against the wall, the antic clothes standing out against the more humbly-dressed patrons.

         “Looks like Venti hasn't built much of a tolerance either”, Aether commented with a humorless chuckle, but Kazuha was too far buried in his own misery to care.

         Meanwhile, stashed in the far, less populated corner of the tavern, Venti heaved miserably, while Xinyan carefully held his braids back, keeping them away from the line of fire. Not that it did much, Venti was easily one of the messiest pukers she had ever seen, not even a seasick pirate, or a drunken one compared.

         She had run after him, thinking this would've been over quick enough and they would be able to avoid another mess, but Venti barely heaved before he started spewing. A sizable wave of alcoholic puke surged out of him, and she could almost tell when his body prepared itself to expel it.

         His shoulders locked, his neck stiffening before his head drooped, he let out a drowning gurgle and vomit came rushing out of him like a faucet. Nearly pure liquid splattered between his feet, like rain falling all at once, taking on an unhealthy brownish red color as it puddled on the wooden boards. Somehow it reminded her of chicken broth, but Liyue's cuisine was the last thing she should've been thinking about.

         “Take it easy, bud. Here, let me help ya”, she said, pulling his braids out of the line of fire. Not a second to rest before he started dry heaving, his body wouldn't let up, making her think he could end up slamming his head on the wall if he wasn't careful. “Easy, easy.”

         Venti tried to say something, more like a warning, but between the intense gagging and the wet gasps, she couldn't make it out. He clutched at the wall, feeling as if his stomach was desperately trying to turn itself out. He refused to believe he had become this squeamish. He, who had survived through the archon war, reduced to a miserable queasy mess. Unable to hold his liquor in the middle of a packed full bar.

         “...guh– huUUuRrrRkK!”, he retched, feeling Xinyan's grasp on his hair tighten, not following his sudden lurch, and again, another continuous stream of vomit poured out of him. “EeURrGhh, ugghh.”

         “You're good, I gotchu”, she reassured him, sounding genuinely comforting, her blazing enthusiasm still living on, even in such a pitiful situation. “Gee, that's a lot.”

         To Venti it was just another day of sustaining a human form with real limits and downsides, but he wouldn't trade it for anything. Not even his gnosis back. Even if someday he caught himself thinking of how it would've been if he had just…

         Venti broke into empty gags as the vomiting tapered off, waiting for his stomach to stop throbbing before he tried swallowing again. Groaning almost dejectedly, he ran a white sleeve under his nose, thoroughly cleaning his face while he sniffed. His nostrils were burning with the mixture of alcohol and acid, and his tongue tasted utterly vile.

         “Lord Barbatos…”, he muttered out of habit, but always failing to realize the irony in using his own name in vain. “What was that…? I swear I'm not weak to alcohol.”

         “You can say that again. I saw you down whole bottles. You'd be a big shot at the Alcor”, Xinyan stitched his thought while she let go of his hair. “But try to lay off the alcohol for tonight, alright? For Kazuha's sake.”

         “Y-Yeah, ugh. Watching… that… happen, I think I might, for a whole two days”, he frowned, avoiding looking in that direction. “I'm… feeling a little off now.”

         “It's okay, don'tcha worry”, Xinyan said, peeling one of Venti's hands off the wall and throwing it over her shoulder.

         Venti barely registered the walk, Xinyan dragged so swiftly he didn't even feel his feet touch the ground. He tried opening his eyes as they stopped, finding Aether and Kazuha amidst a sea of red wine covering the floorboards. He had to close his eyes again, wrinkling his nose.

         “Traveler, we should get going”, he heard her say. “This one's out for the count too.”

         The bard groaned in response, grimacing at the terrible taste in his mouth. Aether nodded, frowning as his eyes landed on Venti, another drunk disaster on their hands.

         “How's Kazuha?”, she asked while pulling a chair for Venti and carefully seating him down. “Is he complaining of headaches? Do you think this fella just rushed the hangover he'll be having tomorrow?”

         “Hey, Kazuha?”, Aether called, lifting his head with a thumb, his eyes were glossy, but he still managed a soft huff to show he was awake. “Does your head hurt?”

         “Mmm...”, he nodded weakly, almost imperceptible, swallowing before he tried to speak. “My-my... stomach t-too...”

         To that Aether raised his eyebrows, instinctively going to feel his forehead again, finding a slight heat irradiating from it. A small hum left him as he drifted to his neck, supporting Kazuha's head on his hand as he did so.

         “It might not be. We should probably play it safe and take him Barbara”, he suggested, looking at Xinyan, who was tending to Venti, doing the same. “Actually, we should bring the two of them.”

         “Me? No. I'm fine, you two...”, the bard murmured without opening his eyes, his throat bobbing as he kept swallowing. “I'm not even drunk.”

         “Is he always like this?”, Xinyan asked, raising an eyebrow, to which Aether merely shrugged. “Alright, can you look after these two? I'll go close our tabs, and, well, apologize for the mess. Apologize a lot.”

         The traveler agreed, getting up to his feet, but without leaving Kazuha's side. The ronin seemed more aware now, his eyes darting across the tavern, red and welled up with tears. When they landed on Aether again, spotting the cold vomit stain all over his thighs, they went wide.

         “You must be so mad at me...”, he muttered, choking on a sob. “I'm so sorry. I promise I'll repay you for the clothes somehow.”

         “Hey, I'm not. So just forget that, alright?”, Aether waved him off, trying to sound just a little softer. “How are you feeling now?”

         “Like... ugh, it feels like my head is trying to kill me”, he groaned, all of his graceful politeness spilled along with his stomach contents. “I'm never trying Mondstadt's wine ever again. It's so... fruity you don't even realize you're drinking it until…”

         “Hum… I'd think Inazuman sake would be much stronger than that”, Aether recalled.

         “Don't even get me started…”

         They didn't have much longer to divulge on that, Xinyan had managed to wipe her frown off and was looking a little more cheerful for it.

         “All's set. Let's get going”, she said, propping Venti over her shoulder again.

         “I guess you're gonna have to carry me, huh?” Kazuha pointed out, trying to sound more playful than pitiful, but he didn't exactly achieve that.

         “You're lucky we weigh about the same because you owe now”, Aether shot back, lowering himself again while draping Kazuha's arm over his shoulder. “Come on, up we go.”

         Aether lifted him off ease, his soiled feet barely touched the ground as they walked off the tavern through the back door and out into the cold streets of a sleepy Mond. Xinyan followed closely, carrying her own drunkard.

         After all that, Aether was sure Kazuha wouldn't be coming back for a visit any time soon. But there was still a lot to happen.

#emeto #emetophilia #vomiting #tw alcohol #overdrinking #burping #gen/shin im/pact #gen/shin imp/act kaz/uha #gen/shin imp/act aet/her #gen/shin imp/act trav/eler aet/her #gen/shin imp/act ven/ti #gen/shin imp/act xin/yan #gen/shin imp/act pai/mon #mentioned di/luc #can be read as platonic or romantic #multiple caretakers #multiple sickies #platonic caretaking #tw vomit #dana//emeto fic #my writing

[danafeelingsick]

ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ, ᴅɪʟᴜᴄ 1 | 2

NON-KINK BLOGS AND MINORS DNI

PART 1.5

PART 2

In which Diluc eats more than he should've at his own birthday party organized by Kaeya, and ends up sick only to find out something has gone sour.

ᴀᴏ3

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ food mention, overeating, overindulgence, bloating, light stuffing, burping, mentions of alcohol, hurt and comfort, implied alcohol abuse, no vomit in this part

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ 3.1k~

❝𝚆𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑? 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚜 𝙺𝚊𝚎𝚢𝚊 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚖, 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚊 𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚊𝚣𝚎.❞

Once Diluc stepped foot into the Grandmaster's office, he understood why Kaeya had been so cheerful during their short walk here.

The place, so familiar to him in the past, had been reorganized. Mainly the large table they would use for conferences was now at the center of the room, decorated with pots of flowers and sporting a neat selection of foods and drinks. The scent of grilled meat and freshly baked goods filled the space with an almost homely atmosphere.

Familiar still, were the guests populating the room, his beloved Knights of Favonius. Some seated and some standing and chatting, all turning to face their former captain as he stood there, seemingly shrinking under their gaze.

A smile he had come to recognize as the harbinger of antics was stamped on Kaeya's face, a genuine playful smile showing his teeth, spreading to his eye as well.

“Well? Surprised?”, he announced, a warm chuckle escaping him, one he went to cover with his hand before motioning to the room. “I bet you are. I have to get you at least once, don't I?”

Out of his own choosing, Diluc was momentarily speechless, he knew opening his mouth would result in hostility. He could feel an irritation bottling inside, translating into a scowl that refused to clear.

“What is the meaning of this?”, he crossed his arms, thinking acting aloof would be his way out of this. “You informed me there would be a meeting, and you said you had something important to tell me.”

“And I have”, Kaeya raised an eyebrow, challenging, his smile remained but his eyes went cold. “Happy birthday.”

Diluc stared back, something akin to anger burning behind his fiery red eyes, but it quickly fizzled out into a sigh, there was no point to it. His eyes gravitated towards the table, the guests watching him carefully, almost expecting an outburst out of him, a show of stubbornness he wouldn't put up, not today.

“I thought I told you I didn't want anything”, he spoke in a low hushed tone, his voice bordering a hiss, hoping Kaeya would come to his senses for once in his life.

“Oh, you know me, Diluc. I couldn't possibly let this date go by”, he waved him off, showing his teeth in a grin that was nothing short of a dare. “And besides, this is nothing grand, it's just a meeting. Everyone brought a plate of their own, so think of it as a small gathering among friends. And you, are invited too.”

With that, the cavalry captain strolled inside the office, waving a hand over his shoulder as if to pull him in. When that didn't work, he pulled one of the unoccupied chairs and waited beside it. The overwhelming silence quickly dawned on him, and Diluc shambled to take the seat, sinking in it like a pouting child.

“See, that wasn't so bad, was it?”, Kaeya whispered closely, mocking him to his ear as he adjusted his collar, and patted his shoulders, bitting his time as the guests eyed his brother as if he was an animal on a leash. “Now, you stay here and I'll go fix a plate for the birthday boy.”

Diluc did just that, kept quietly seething in his seat, feeling as if all eyes were glued to him like feathers on tar. He felt on display, caught off guard even as he clearly expected it. To participate in the pointless celebration, to be forced to be in a grand luxurious party, pretend to care for the passing of years while among people he barely knew, all that he could muster.

But to be here, in that office he knew so well, with people that could see through his facade, that held him in some regard that didn't relate to his name, he felt… out of place.

“Happy birthday… master Diluc”, he heard a familiar voice say by his side, barely noticing the footsteps as they approached.

He looked up to see the acting grandmaster Jean offering a hand for him to shake, smiling sheepishly as a faint blush colored her fair face.

“Uh, thank you”, he responded, taking her hand in his as he rose to his feet, sustaining her gaze for as long as it took for her to get the hint.

“Time surely flies, doesn't it?”, she commented, glancing away, suddenly finding the need to arrange a streak of hair behind her ear. “It feels like just yesterday we were still kids.”

Diluc held the urge to disagree, he couldn't relate to the sentiment at all. It felt like just yesterday he had been forced to grow up, pushed into the position his late father used to occupy. Just yesterday he had lost his only family left to betrayal.

“That was… a long time ago”, he commented simply, nonchalantly, wishing to end that line of thought before it went farther. She seemed to get the memo as she let go of his hand, choosing to fidget with her own as she continued.

“Well, I do hope you enjoy yourself”, she added, her eyes gravitating towards the table for a moment. “I know when it comes to parties like this, Captain Kaeya can easily get in over his head.”

They both turned to look at him, taking a few moments to find him among the guests. Kaeya made rounds around the table with two almost full plates, one in hand, the other on his forearm, and a small wooden box wrapped in ribbons under his arm. Just by looking at it, Diluc could tell what it was.

He was throwing conversation away, buying his time as he entertained both the Outrider and the Reconnaissance Captain with his friendly banter. It seemed strangely endearing to Diluc, to see him acting out the social butterfly he was, but he didn't allow himself to ponder over that matter for long.

“To be honest”, she chuckled softly before continuing. “We were all a bit surprised when he came to us this morning, had us hurry to get everything ready, but I think we managed given how little time we had”, she concluded with a small apologetic smile that gave Diluc pause, he felt his heart tighten at the tone of her voice.

“I- I suppose. Still, it is quite the feast for less than a day”, he managed to say, now unsure of how to proceed when she seemed so cautious around him. He furrowed his eyebrows, returning the same apologetic tone she had. “I mean, really, you didn't need to go through all this trouble–”

“Oh, It wasn't a problem at all”, the librarian cut into the conversation, her soft chuckle calling to the attention of everyone at the table. “Everyone helped a bit, some more than others…”

“What Lisa means is, she helped as well”, Jean quickly intervened, her face flushing a deeper shade of red. “Which would be an improvement I wouldn't mind seeing more often.”

“That's not what you said earlier today if I'm remembering correctly”, Lisa had the same impish smirk on her face, her intense green eyes fixed on Jean as she folded her arms, looking away at some point in the ground. “You saved my life, was more like it. Where would I find fresh fruit jam at a time like this? Huhuhu.”

Lisa's impression left a lingering silence that she was happy to fill in with her muffled laughter, it sounded desperate, forcibly sweet, even to her usual voice. Diluc looked from her to Jean, thinking of how unusual this portrayal of her sounded. She seemed to be trying to shrink into the ground just like he had been mere moments ago. He couldn't help the low, almost inaudible chuckle that escaped through his nose, the slightest hint of a smile creeping through his lips.

“She isn't wrong”, Amber joined in, slamming the table with her hand as she stood up, wobbly from the drink she was holding. “Somehow, Lisa managed to make it in less than an hour using that cauldron of hers, but she refuses to tell her secrets!”

“I have to agree with Amber on this one”, Eula added, holding a napkin to her mouth. “You could lend us a few tips, that jam you made was simply–”

”You know how much time this could save us?”, she gestured, spilling a good part of an unmistakably purple drink as she turned away from Eula, who was trying to quiet her down. “Without her jam that cake wouldn't be as good, believe me.”

“That was a lot of work, you know? If I tell you, you'll keep asking me for it every day”, Lisa informed, her voice carrying a very ironic tone of tragedy. “And I didn't just provide the jam, I had a hand at baking the cake too. You can imagine just how tired I must be now.”

Jean seemingly froze where she stood, and Diluc slowly turned to her, interest showing in his quirked eyebrow.

“You made a cake too?”, he asked, that faint smile still playing across his lips.

“Ahem”, she cleared her throat, shooting the librarian a glance that meant stern talking later that night, but she simply returned a wink and smile, not a care in her mind. “That was supposed to be another surprise. I’m sorry…”

“Oh, don't worry about that, Jean”, the cavalry captain had materialized himself behind the two, carelessly setting an overly full plate of food in front of them, several meat skewers went tumbling to the side. “You know how much this birthday boy here hates surprises.”

To that Diluc simply scoffed and sat down, finding himself sandwiched in the chair between the cavalry captain and the acting grandmaster. There was a strange sense of homeliness to the scenario: the three of them at a table that felt far too wide, shoes dangling over the ground, pleasant conversation filling the backroom, him struggling to pick up anything but quite enjoying being included.

The former captain picked up one of Kaeya's signature fruity skewers and took a piece of poultry between his teeth. It tasted faintly sweet, not a hint of alcohol like his usual cooking called for, instead of the tanginess of sour grape juice. He held a hand over his mouth as he chewed, trying to kill the smile threatening to grow past what he could mask.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

***

Diluc had lost himself somewhere in the conversation around the table, even going as far as to add a sentence or two as he munched through his plate while others drank. Most of his concentration had been devoted to picking through what he wanted to eat off the pile Kaeya had made for him.

His stomach was halfway full by this point, and although he hated the heavy feeling of all that food pushing the walls of his abdomen, he couldn't help but indulge just a little. It would be inevitable, as soon as he was done with his plate and pushed it away, Kaeya would sneak another hash brown or another serving of satisfying salad onto it.

“Don't be like that”, he would say, with a carefree smile that spelled trouble. “We've made all of this food just for you.”

He would be reminded of that constantly, with even a drunk Amber shoving another piece of the sticky honey roast she cooked herself onto his plate, making sure he remembered that as he tasted it.

“So, how is it?”, she asked, watching Adam's apple shift behind his collar.

Sweet, he remarked, so sweet his tongue felt numb for a moment or two, with the added taste of overcooked carrot and the chewy texture of the meat, Diluc couldn't muster more than a couple of bites.

“N-Not bad”, he forced out, wiping his mouth with a napkin and taking the chance to grimace behind it. He didn't have the heart to tell her, at least not now.

Maybe the hunger had clouded his judgment. Only now he was recalling how busy of a day this had been, so much he didn't have the time for a proper meal until now, where he could tell he was going overboard. And with the prospects of everyone bringing a dish, there was enough guilt-tripping on their end to make Diluc eat more than he normally would've.

Eula had brought plenty of her signature moon pies, and while the four he ate all tasted heavenly, one had been filling enough to his already overtaxed belly. The same happened to Jean's mushroom pizzas, although he was able to eat a couple of slices before he could tell going further would be a bad idea.

Kaeya, as expected, had brought the drinks, mainly juices and non-alcoholic cocktails, along with a bottle of wine or two from his personal collection.

Usually, Diluc would turn his nose at any offering of alcohol, and while today was no different, he didn't mind terribly the bottle being passed around the table. The conversation might have become louder at some point, but nothing to sour his mood by much.

Diluc shook his head, a small smile forming on his face as he looked down. Was he really enjoying himself that much? Perhaps Kaeya had been lying when he served him, that warmth spreading through his chest could only be from a drunken haze. It had to.

Kaeya leaned in and asked just that, a look of genuine curiosity on his eye, and behind his eye patch. “Is everything to your liking?”

“It is”, he let it escape, his eyes roving over the selection of guests, something he failed to take note of before now starting to nag at him. “Who else did you invite?”

“Oh, still wary of surprises?”, Kaeya leaned even closer, letting out a barely composed chuckle as he saw Diluc's expression shift to one of caution. “I did invite Rosaria, and Sucrose, if that's of any importance, but both declined my offer promptly”, it wasn’t a surprise to none of the two. “While Albedo and Klee are not in Mondstadt at the moment, I'm sure they would've loved to come through. I hope you're not too heartbroken by it.”

Diluc had heard as much. When Inazuma, a nation locked by a year-long decree, decides to finally open its borders to tourists, and fashion a festival out of it, rumors would surely arise. And when their chief alchemist is summoned as an official artist for the said festival, those same rumors surely travel far. He wondered if arranging a commercial route would be feasible, but that was talk for another table.

“As for the traveler”, Kaeya continued, shrugging with a half-smile of one who knew he had hit the right spot. “They informed me they wouldn't make it, as they were appointed as organizers for the same festival Albedo has been lending his skills to. A shame, wouldn't you say?”

They didn't even bother to consider his offer for dinner, a shame indeed. Diluc didn't say a thing, but to Kaeya, who had been by his side for so many years, it was more than clear how well he had taken the news.

“That reminds me of your gift. Well, our gift actually. I think it's time for it already, isn't it?”, the captain said, pushing himself out of his chair and standing. “I'll go fetch it.”

It didn't take long for Diluc to have a small wooden box in his hands, staring at it quizzically as Kaeya stared back at him, an expectant look on his face. He carefully removed the lid and took its contents out.

“It's… grape juice?”, he raised an eyebrow in suspicion as he stared back, at a sealed glass bottle with a deep purple liquid swirling inside. “Grape juice?”

“Made by me, and the traveler”, Kaeya stated proudly, eyeing Diluc with a resolute sense of accomplishment, but when this didn't earn a reaction out of him, his shoulders dropped. “I thought I couldn't go wrong, I mean honestly, it's the only thing I've ever heard you say you like.”

When he said it like that, it made sense. Diluc held the bottle as if it was a strange body, watching the bubbles shift inside, it's liquid almost translucent against the light. While Diluc grew up very close to the process of winemaking, he would be of no use to tell the quality of a wine by its appearance, much less by its taste. Looking at it like this, he could barely tell if the thing had been fermented or not.

“I would never imagine you would be one to make the drink”, Diluc remarked without taking his eyes off the bottle. “You were always more interested in the later parts of the process.”

“Well”, Kaeya chuckled at the comment, “the traveler did the hardest part, they grew the grapes inside their little teapot realm. Have you ever been there? It is quite an experience”, he quickly got sidetracked as he explained, his hand tracing circles in the air as he talked. “Your birthday is as good an excuse as any to gift you, so go ahead, why don't you give it a taste?”

Diluc was already halfway through popping the bottle open when he suggested it, wasting no time as he poured a cup and inspected the liquid. Its deep purple color left a round stain on the rim of the glass as he swirled it, a faint sour smell wafting up to his nose. At least, it didn't smell of alcohol.

He sipped, letting the lukewarm drink sit on his tongue as he tried to pick apart the taste. It started sweet at first, but quickly a strongly sour flavor plagued his mouth, causing him to suppress a grimace as he simmered in the aftertaste. It tasted, well… like grape juice, quite concentrated in fact, and a little bitter, but that could've been from leftover seeds. Not the best he had ever had, but intentions played a huge role in its significance.

“It's… not bad”, he informed, bringing the cup to his lips again and taking another swig, trying to wash down the tangy aftertaste with brief sweetness. “Thank you for this gift Kaeya. I… appreciate it.”

Kaeya shrugged, crossing his arms and looking away as he felt the corners of his mouth stretch again. A better reaction than he expected, he thought, watching his brother slowly drain the cup, the faintest of pleased looks on his face.

“Not bad, huh? Well, not bad for a first try”, Kaeya tried to laugh, but he could feel the slightest hint of warmth spreading to his cheeks.

He cleared his throat before returning to the plate he hadn't finished, filling his mouth as a way to end the conversation. He was at a loss for words for the first time in his life.

#emeto #emetophilia #food mention #overeating #overindulgence #bloating #tw alcohol mention #gen/shin imp/act #di/luc gen/shin impact #kae/ya gen/shin imp/act #je/an gen/shin imp/act #li/sa gen/shin imp/act #am/ber gen/shin imp/act #eu/la gen/shin imp/act #mentioned barb/ara gen/shin imp/act #read as platonic only #platonic caretaking #defiant sickie #tw vomit #tw alcohol #tw drunk #emeto tw #light stuffing #hurt and comfort #burping #dana//emeto fic #my writing

[danafeelingsick]

ᴛᴡ ᴠᴏᴍɪᴛ ᴀʜᴇᴀᴅ

NON-KINK BLOGS AND MINORS DNI

just in time for his birthday, yay

#excuse the cheesy speech bubbles #recomend zooming in for details #emetophilia #emeto #vomiting #tw vomit #genshin emeto #im in a good mood #emeto art #di/luc #gen/shin imp/act di/luc #emeto kink #nausea #dana//emeto art

[danafeelingsick]

Ooh since it’s his birthday, can we have Diluc dealing with the aftermath of a birthday dinner gone wrong? Perhaps something was sour but he didn’t realize until it’s too late. Emeto ensues.

anon, i think i wrote way too much... i was halfway through this thing when i stopped and re-read your request and realized you didn't specify any caretaker, and the word aftermath kept nagging at me, like, it's supposed to be after. and i wrote a whole birthday party scene. so! i made one part, almost like an alternate ending to what i was writing originally. and i'll post the second part as soon as i'm done with it. but for now, here's your request.

ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ, ᴅɪʟᴜᴄ

ᴘᴀʀᴛ 1.5

NON-KINK BLOGS AND MINORS DNI

PART 1

PART 2

In which Diluc has to deal alone with the consequences of overeating at a birthday dinner.

ᴀᴏ3

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ alcohol mention, induced vomiting, mentioned fainting, light stuffing, overeating, food poisoning, throat finger!ng

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ 3,4k~

❝𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝚐𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎.❞

Diluc found himself silently thanking the wind for leaving the streets completely empty that night. The cold biting breeze left him shuddering, seeming to open gashes into his coat every time it blew over him.

No wonder no one was around, with the city's main tavern closed for the night, and not a single bard to entertain the passersby, why would anyone be? At least no one would see the pitiful face of distaste the young man had, for that he was grateful to the cold wind.

That gratitude, however, didn't extend to its archon, for he knew now the former didn't have a hand in it. As far as he could tell, that drunkard wasn't even in Mondstadt anymore.

The darknight hero suddenly stopped where he was, gripping a nearby wall as he felt a shuddering wave of nausea wash over him, leaving him dizzy and distrustful of his sights. It wouldn't be the first time it happened that night, each step he took would make him feel heavier and heavier.

How could he let this happen? He thought, bringing a hand to cover his mouth as a low sickly belch flew past his lips.

Diluc had been hopeful this dreadful day would go by and none would be privy to it. He had been naive, so naive to think any would respect his wishes, and let him enjoy his birthday in peace.

Was it even his birthday still? He looked up to see the full moon casting its silver light down on him. It should be past midnight by now, just another day like any other.

As it should be. Hell, he should've realized sooner when Charles dismissed him so nonchalantly, saying he could very well take care of the bar on his own. And how cordial the maids had been, when they would normally cower around him. Even Kaeya, who hadn't seen him all day, managed to track him down and refused to leave his side until he came with him to the Knight's headquarters under the guise of some business meeting.

“Ugh…”, Diluc grimaced as he recalled the shouts of surprise, and that slimy smirk on Kaeya's face as he bared his way out.

His gut had already cowered in anticipation as he saw the feast cluttering the table. Diluc wasn't someone weak of stomach, but having so much food crammed in his belly in such a short period ensured a bad time later on. And to top it all off, he was sure something he ate had gone sour.

He wouldn't put it past him, given how unfavorable luck had been to his side that day, and how Kaeya had arranged that impromptu birthday party. Each guest had brought a dish of their own, resulting in varying qualities in culinary and presentation.

The Outrider, Amber as he recalled it, had tried her hand at preparing Sweet Madames and Sticky Honey Roasts, trying to fill in the absence of the traveler as they were out somewhere in a land beyond the sea. After a bite or two, Diluc just couldn't stomach any more of it, the chewy texture and the sheer abuse of seasoning quickly became too much for him, no matter how much she insisted.

While Jean's mushroom pizzas had been a palate cleanser, and Eula's moon pies had been filling enough, there were simply too many dishes to sample properly. And the lingering taste of alcohol in everything Kaeya had cooked… Diluc had his gut complaining under his tight belt in no time.

It was already dark out when he finally got to leave the Knight's headquarters. And now he could only hope no one would spot him like that, staggering his way home in the middle of the night, like a pitiful boozer with nowhere to go.

The former captain scowled as he heard his stomach give a low growl as it tried to settle, viciously churning the heavy mass of food sitting stubbornly inside. He could almost feel it brushing past the inner walls of his guts as he felt it tossing and turning inside.

Paying too much attention to it already had his tongue driving back with weak gags, so instead, he focused on swallowing. Diluc closed his eyes, drowning out his vision that seemed to be slightly tilted. He gulped, once, twice, then breathed through his nose, hoping any voluntary motion would take his mind off the nausea.

The constant intake of saliva only seemed to be adding to the fullness of his stomach, leaving his esophagus with the impression of a ghostly hand pinching it from the inside. His mouth was filling with drool quicker than he could swallow. It was starting to take more and more after the taste of something he had eaten.

“...urp–”, he had to clog his mouth shut as he felt a bubble of air suddenly rise past his gullet, bursting in the back of his tongue with a foul acidic sting.

It tasted like grape juice, he realized with a shuddering exhale leaving his nostrils, how clearly it tasted sickly sweet and strongly acidic, unbearably bitter as it washed over his tongue.

Halfway through the night, he had already drained an entire bottle in between bites, it was the only thing he could properly stomach after eating so much off-tasting food.

Diluc clasped a hand firmly over his mouth when he felt a muffled gag cause his chest to hitch, trying to suppress the clear image of the undercooked meat dripping from his fork, the slimy chewy texture, the bizarre taste.

He could feel something shifting inside his queasy stomach, sending more air to rest in the back of his tongue before he could swallow it. Diluc was desperate for any form of relief from the pressure in his stomach, so he tried to carefully burp behind his hand.

“...guh… buur–”, he let out a startled hiss as his cheeks suddenly bulged out, a watery surge flooding his mouth.

Fuck, fuck. His mind was screaming at him now, shifting all of his attention to the solid clumps of undigested food swirling inside his mouth, rolling over his tongue. He had to– without thinking, he tried swallowing, bit by bit, feeling chunks of undigested meat and boiling acid travel down his throat.

It felt utterly revolting, being forced to taste twice the meal he'd been forced to eat mere hours ago, but he couldn't just let it happen now. It was unthinkable to have him dirtying the streets with the contents of his pitiful stomach. Enough drunkards were left to do this, he refused to become another.

The poor man was wheezing behind his gloved hand, swallowing convulsively as he tried to clear the taste of vomit out of his mouth. Once he could open his eyes again, he shakingly lowered his hand, glancing at it to see there was a smear of drool coating it.

The restless churning of his stomach contents and the loud gurgling sounds only seemed to worsen. He held a clean hand carefully over the curve of his belly, feeling something shift constantly under his skin and his form-fitting clothes.

It felt like his legs were made out of cotton as he took a step forward, followed by another, then another. He had to shift all of his attention into putting one foot in front of the other, right then left, and somehow not mess this up.

His mind was far away as he walked, tracking the way to his home out of muscle memory. On a good night, Diluc would commute in a few minutes, without a single soul spotting him as he stuck to the shadows. Now, he had no notion of time, but no less than an hour had been spent and he was only halfway there.

He could only hope he would have enough control to command his stomach contents down and his legs forward. All he knew was he needed to get home before he had the chance to fall ill again.

***

It was… so cold. The darknight hero had his arms folded tightly over his chest as he started approaching the winery. It wasn't the wind anymore, a ghostly chill seemed to be following him wherever he went, refusing to let go as it cloaked him in a shuddering blanket.

His fingers were nearly numb as he gripped the handle and flung open the front door. A couple of steps inside and it was gone, almost like it wanted to see him home safe, but he didn't let go of his position. Diluc seemed to be operating with muffled hazy orders ringing inside his head, he made a beeline for his bedroom, ignoring, or rather, barely listening to the timid greetings of his servants.

The nausea was now dizzying, muffling his senses as if he was underwater, listening in to the distant sounds of his stomach groaning. The door creaked as he pushed it, then creaked again as he closed it behind him.

He staggered towards his bed and sat, his wary body sinking into the mattress as it begged for a rest. Diluc felt like he could just fall over as he lazily undid the clasps of his boots and kicked them off to a corner.

Next, his coat slid out of his shoulders, falling away to the other side of the bed and disappearing over the edge. He fought a fierce battle against his belts, undoing them with the unskilled fingers of a sickly man.

“...phew”, he let out a puff of air as the pressure over his belly was finally released, ridding himself from his shirt as well as the mere brush of fabric over it spelled discomfort.

Diluc looked down to see his otherwise lean abdomen had been forced into an unusual curve, the skin stretching over it like and taking an odd pinkish tone, making it look too similar to a flustered anemo slime as if puffed out. He dared to graze his fingers over it, morbidly impressed by how noticeably it had altered his shape.

The flesh practically pushed back on his fingers, he could feel how full his stomach was under the outer layers, like the bloated gut of a decomposing carcass. He settled a hand over it, careful as to not apply any pressure, and felt the distinct motion of his stomach twisting under there, almost like a colony of critters writhing inside a trap, wrapped in a ball of cloth, squirming.

He didn't want to think about it, but his mouth was watering profusely, his tongue almost heavy with a thick coating of off-tasting saliva. He could still faintly taste the vomit he had to swallow back multiple times during his way here. Maybe it would be best to just let it out, he thought, feeling his stomach almost jump in agreement.

Diluc rose his eyes and searched his moonlit room, hoping to find anything he could drag under his bed just in case he needed it. He knew he was going to need it, and thankfully, a small bucket had been left from gods know what purpose, maybe some careless maid had left it. He was more than thankful for their incompetence now.

The young master got up, and stumbled towards the wooden bucket, momentarily kneeling in front of it as he thought of just giving up and sleeping right there, safe from the threat of dirtying his bed. His muscles ached from the strenuous walk from Mondstadt city to here, a commute he could easily muster multiple times if necessary, in a better state of mind, of course. But as of now, it left him sore and with ragged breath.

He was definitely drunk, he concluded, of the few meat skewers he had eaten, and the countless glasses of grape juice he had used to wash down the awful parts of that feast. Someone could've easily swapped his drink for wine, and him, with his taste buds fried and mind somewhere greener, would be none the wiser. For that, he swore to strangle Kaeya.

He gripped the bucket as if it was a tender neck and dragged it to the foot of his bed, then to his lap. Part of him wanted to wrap himself in blankets and just hug the bucket until relief came, but the other part barely wanted to move, so he stayed there, slumped over and staring somewhere off, trying to focus on the noises of his stomach.

“ghh…”, he groaned, nausea still swirling inside him, leaving him groggy and miserable, but quite there.

He held his mouth open, panting as he felt pain twisting his inner organs, letting saliva drip into the bucket, the sounds almost sharp in contrast with the silence. His stomach wouldn't stop writhing, loud gurgles coming from it as it tried to mix the food and drink crammed tightly inside, churning but unable to digest any of it.

The sickly man was only able to produce a few short queasy burps as he tried to flex the muscles of his throat. It frustrated him, he was sick and in pain, he needed to get whatever was harming him out but he wouldn't have it that easy. If could go back and curse his past self for cutting his vomiting spell short, he would, but for now, he could only feel miserable about it.

Why only now was his gag reflex being stubbornly strong? He was never like this. At the first sign of someone tampering with his food, he would be quick to pry it out using his fingers, just for safety. He wasn't opposed to vomiting, maybe a little apprehensive about it, but it was something he learned to face as a necessary evil.

Diluc looked at his hand, thinking long and hard about if it would be worth it. He was still wearing his gloves, the bright red and black fabric stood out against his pale marked skin, it was surprising how he managed to miss it.

He had to, he thought, remove the glove with his teeth and set it aside. Shakingly, almost timidly, he raised two fingers and introduced them inside his mouth, carefully trailing the extent of his tongue. It felt awfully warm and tender against his skin, saliva coating his fingers in a thick slimy layer.

“...ha… guh–”, he let out as he reached the gullet, causing a weak gag to make his throat clench around his fingers.

He couldn't stop now, so he went even deeper with the middle one, feeling around the soft meat writhing against his touch. He started stroking his tongue, slowly at first, driving his fingers in and out of his throat. It didn't take long for him to gag harshly, his stomach jumping and landing with a wet slosh, sending its contents crawling up his food pipe.

It wasn't enough to get him to vomit. He kept stroking desperately, his throat clenching, trying to choke out his fingers. He gagged again, so harshly his eyes watered. His stomach inching closer with each stroke.

He waited for another painful gag, the sound of his forced retching scrapping at his throat, leaving it raw and tender. Saliva flowed into the bucket, each harsh cough sending it spraying into his hand, sliding down his skin, and slithering towards his wrist.

He was close, he thought, forcing another gag and quickly retrieving his hand as a wet belch erupted out of him, bile prickling his tongue. So close.

“...ughh… gh…”, he panted, his mouth hanging open as a series of short wet burps left him, each bringing him closer and closer to finally– “huurk–”, he anticipated a small gush of vomit spraying out of him, nearly missing the wooden bucket in his lap as he readjusted his position.

There it was. Diluc nearly winced at the pungent taste of acid on his tongue, it barely resembled grape juice as it fell into the bucket, but he could still distinguish its taste. Far worse than what he had swallowed before.

He went back to stroking his tongue, hoping to rid his stomach of a little more pressure, as that amount meant nothing. This time he wasn't being so gentle, digging his fingers mercilessly into his throat as he felt himself getting desperate.

”...huu… urgGGHH”, he retched into his bare hand, his stomach writhing from the violent motion, but he didn't stop until he felt its contents bubbling at the back of his throat. “BuuUuuUURGHHhh.”

A gush of thin disgustingly warm vomit shot out of his mouth before he could retrieve his fingers, he nearly winced as the sickening boiling concoction completely coated his hand. It dripped unevenly inside the bucket, barely a cup's worth of semi-fermented and acidic grape juice.

Diluc shakingly held his soiled dripping hand over the bucket, panting miserably with threads of drool hanging from his mouth.

He must have looked truly pitiful as he was now, barely dressed, sickly and pale, and even then, struggling to get the offending poison out of his system. His head felt heavier and heavier, his eyes wanting to roll to the back of his skull as his body begged for rest.

His throat was sore and bruised from all the abuse, and still, he hadn't even tapped into the food he'd stuffed into his overtaxed stomach. It gave a low ill growl as it agreed, almost coaxing him into continuing.

With a defeated grumble, Diluc shoved the now cold and slimy fingers into his throat, just the sensation of it, the odd shock of temperature, and the texture of his saliva against his tongue earned a weak unproductive gag out of him.

He tried not to think about it, taking the involuntary motion of his gullet to introduce his fingers even deeper, moving them as if he was trying to pry himself open.

“...ah… ha…”, he panted, trying to squeeze in struggling wet breaths in between audible gags, the air rushing in and out grazing his skin. “hah–”, wheezing with half a hand down his throat maybe had been the answer to his problems, as he nearly choked.

Diluc didn't have it in his mind to muffle the coughing fit that followed, he didn't even bother to remove his fingers, choosing to hold his tongue down as he kept hacking over the bucket. His fit quickly evolved into retching so violently his shoulders were jumping with each one.

“...urggGH–”, he coughed out, feeling something painfully dense climb up his food pipe, cutting his breath short as he struggled with it. His hand was trembling, his nail digging into his tongue out of nervousness

It took a couple of weak shivering strokes for him to finally feel vomit burst out of his mouth, a lumpy dense slurry covered his hand and sprayed up to his upper arm, lumps of nearly untouched food sliding off him and dripping softly on the bucket.

Once he started, there was no stopping it. A heavier wave of vomit splashed inside the bucket followed the first, this one more than just a mouthful, adding a new layer of filth to the bucket.

“EeeeuUURRrrrgh!”

Diluc had his eyes screwed shut as he struggled with each new surge of chunky almost sharp vomit leaving his throat razed. He could feel so clearly the lumps grinding the walls as they left him, pouring into the bucket like unrelenting rain on the roof of his house. His hearing was muffled.

When he could finally breathe properly he found himself slowly slipping forward, the bucket now glued to his chest as the arm laced around it bent awkwardly. Diluc parted his lips only to find two fingers jammed in between them, his teeth buried into them.

He blinked, and how long had passed? Maybe less than a minute, he hadn't properly fainted but still, he desperately needed rest.

Diluc let out a shuddering breath as he adjusted himself, one look at the bucket had his lips hitching into a grimace as he spat out, trying to rid his mouth of the vile taste.

“Fuck… ugh”, he groaned, his voice a husky pained whisper.

At the very least, he had managed to rid himself of some of that cursed food, but he didn't have the chance to savor the relief. He didn't feel any different, arguably he felt even worse.

That didn't matter now. He'd have to deal with that in the morning. Diluc settled the bucket under his bed, not enough energy left in him to even think about getting rid of it.

His body sunk into the mattress, the wooden frame creaking despite how light, shriveled he felt. As soon as the back of his head hit the pillow, he welcomed sleep.

***

#emeto #emetophilia #vomiting #overeating #light stuffing #fainting #induced vomiting #gen/shin imp/act #di/luc #mentioned kae/ya #mentioned je/an #mentioned am/ber #hurt and discomfort #stomach ache whump #nausea #tw alcohol mention #requested #dana//emeto fic #my writing