If you see typos, pretend you don't. Enjoy my first fic in months!
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The sweet smell of fresh raspberry danishes filled the apartment, the buttery scent curling in the air like a warm hug. Luna stood by the counter, carefully drizzling a zigzag of vanilla glaze over a cooling tray of pastries, humming to herself.
The moment Daniel opened the front door, he froze. His stomach twisted, not from excitement but from dread.
"Oh no," he muttered, one hand shooting up to clutch his middle. "She baked."
The scent hit him like a brick wall. Buttery pastry, sweet jam, and a whisper of lemon zest in the glaze. And beneath it all, the slight presence of regret: carnitas tacos.
"Babe?" Luna called, cheerful. "Guess what I made for -"
"I can't talk about food right now," Daniel groaned as he stumbled toward the coach. He dropped down with a heavy fwump, arms wrapped protectively around his torso. "It's happening again."
Luna peeked out, confused. "What's happening- oh no. Again?"
"I told you not to let me eat spicy food at work," he moaned, eyes closed. "It's like lava is fighting acid in my chest, and the acid is winning."
She walked over, wiping her hands on a towel, eyes narrowing in that familiar "I told you so" way. "Daniel. You said - and I quote - 'I can handle taco tuesday. I'm a grown man."
"I was wrong!" He whimpered. "They added that aioli I like, I was practically seduced."
Luna sighed, crouching beside him. "You don't look great."
Daniel let out a sudden, loud, wet-sounding belch that he halfed-smothered in his sleeve.
"Ugh, sorry. They keep sneaking up on me."
"What does it feel like?"
He rubbed his chest, brow furrowed. "It feels like a pressure in my chest. Then it gets worse when it pushes up into my throat."
Another hiccup escaped him, sharp and sudden. He jerked forward and clutched his middle again.
"Great, now I have hiccups. This is the worst combo since someone put pineapple on pizza."
"You like pineapple on pizza," Luna reminded him.
"I did. Before my body declared war on flavour."
She gave him a couple of chewable TUMS and rubbed circles on his back while he sat up, hiccuping and burping miserably between sips of water.
But then he caught a whiff of the danishes again.
"Oh god." He gagged, hand instantly clamping over his mouth. "Why do they smell so good when I feel this bad?"
Luna froze. "Want me to put them away?"
He shook his head, eyes glassy. "Just... don't let me look at them. I think my stomach is trying to escape my body."
He let out another slow, painful-sounding burp. It started deep, like a rumble in his gut, then crawled its way up his throat in a sickening gurgle. His face contorted like he'd just tasted something foul.
Luna studied him. "Does it feel like it's in your chest?"
"It's moved lower," he mumbled. "Fuck, it's like sludge, my stomach's bloated, and my throat burns... and I might be feeling better?"
He leaned back cautiously, testing the feeling.
A minute passed.
Two.
Then, his body tensed.
The nausea punched him out of nowhere, cold and sudden, like someone had flipped a switch. He opened his eyes and sat up, taking a deep breath and resting his elbows on his knees.
Luna looked at him, confused. "What baby? What is it?" She sounded concerned now.
"It came back, I feel nauseous." He looked up at her, and she noticed the slight desperate look on his face followed by his pale complexion.
"Bathroom." Luna said quickly, grabbing his arm.
Daniel didn't answer. He was already on his feet, stumbling across the room with one hand on his mouth and the other around his stomach. The moment he hit the bathroom, he dropped to his knees in front of the toilet.
Time slowed.
He sat hunched there, knees aching against the cold tile, forehead resting against the seat. Waves of nausea rolled through him, thick and cruel. He hiccuped again, wet and almost gagging.
Each burp had a different texture. Some were sharp and acidic, burning the back of his throat. Others were slow and bubbling, full of air and that horrible sour taste.
His body trembled. Sweat started to collect at his temples.
Luna felt useless standing outside, hovering in the doorway. "Want me to come in?"
Daniel groaned weakly. "You don't... wanna see this."
She sighed. "You are being ridiculous," she said as she walked in anyway, crouching beside him.
She wet a cloth under water and pressed it against his neck. "Hey," she said gently. "You're okay. Let it happen."
He hated how well she knew him. He hiccuped again - then heaved. His body lurched, a violent wave shooting up from his stomach.
He coughed, gagged, and then vomited. The first wave was small, mostly fluid, but his body didn't care. It wrenched him forward like it was trying to turn him inside out.
He gasped between breaths, arms shaking.
Luna rubbed his back steadily. "Breathe, you're not breathing." She thumped on his back, worrying slightly.
Another burp came up, soaked in bile, and he retched again. This time harder. More came up, and he groaned through it, forehead now slick with sweat.
"God," he rasped between heaves. "This is the most dramatic I've ever been."
"You say that every time"
He coughed, spit, and leaned against the seat. "I mean it this time."
For the next several minutes, he stayed there, curled forward with the toilet as his reluctant companion. His hiccuped slowed, then stopped. The burps thinned out and the worst had finally passed.
He sat back on his heels, chest rising and falling with heavy, exhausted breaths. Luna handed him the wet cloth, which he pressed gratefully to his face.
"You okay?" She asked softly.
He nodded at that. "I feel like a deflated balloon," he said hoarsely. "But less festive."
Later, wrapped in a blanket, freshly brushed and tucked back into bed, Daniel lay curled on his side while Luna sat next to him, cradling a cup of chamomile tea.
"I'm never eating tacos again," he mumbled, voice scratchy.
She grinned and offered him a spoonful of tea. "You said that last week."
"This time, I really mean it."
"You say that every week, babe."
"Then, next week, stop me."
She leaned down, kissed his temple, and whispered, "Only if you let me film this next time so you remember the trauma."
He groaned and pulled the blanket over his head. "Please don't use my weakest moment for educational purposes."
"Too late," she said sweetly. "Already logged it in the 'Daniel vs. Spicy Food' journal."
His muffled voice came from beneath the blanket. "At least save me a danish?"
Barbara Palvin avatars made for me by @flightofthemeese for @itsdelicaterp.Some of them at least. That mad ass lady made 116 total. Alysha (Meese) and I will be making twins. Luna Wilde is going to be my girls name! And Nova Wilde hers.
Hey guys! Alright so here is another comic for @crewefox from his last chapter “The Heart of Sherwood” in Star of Ceartais.
Judy finds out that Robyn is in the hospital, and as she’s running through the halls she has flashbacks of when Robyn was a baby, then a kid, and then she see’s her with an ET tube with Luna next to her. So many feels
Anyway, I know this is extremely late but skewl and all. Ya’ll know how that is, studies come first! But I hope all of those who are a of fan of the story, enjoy this comic :) and any of you who have’t read the story yet, give it a read here :) Bye!
The bell over the bakery door chimed, its cheerful ring grating against Luna’s fraying nerves. She glanced up with a practiced smile—tight, brittle, and entirely hollow. Normally, the scent of fresh pastries and warm bread would wrap around her like a hug, but today, it only seemed to twist the knife deeper. Her stomach was a hot, bubbling mess of gas and nausea, gurgling in protest as she shifted her weight behind the counter. She wished she hadn’t forced herself to eat lunch.
She pressed a hand to her midsection, trying not to wince. It felt like her gut was full of something angry—every few minutes, pressure would build behind her breastbone, begging for release, only for the burp to get stuck halfway, lodged painfully in her throat like a hot stone. Her jeans, usually snug in a flattering way, now felt like a vice. The waistband cut into her bloated belly, making her squirm. With a quiet breath through her nose, she reached under her apron and unfastened the top button, her belly expanding with a soft, muffled whine of relief.
“Loon, are you okay?” Maria, one of her coworkers, asked, coming around the corner with a tray of croissants. Her tone was light, but there was a furrow between her brows.
“I’m fine,” Luna murmured, forcing another smile. Her voice came out tight and too high. “Just a little… stomach thing.”
Her belly answered for her with a long, wet gurgle that made her cheeks burn. She gave a sheepish shrug and turned back to the register.
Time dragged in agonizing inches. Every customer interaction was a performance she had to drag herself through. Her stomach churned and sloshed with every movement, bubbling like a cauldron. The nausea clung to her in waves—first creeping, then crashing. She ducked into the back several times, clutching her gut and leaning over the sink, eyes watering as she hiccupped and gagged, but nothing ever came up. Just dry, pitiful sounds and the growing heat of frustration in her chest.
Around midafternoon, she tried sipping ginger ale, but the fizz only made things worse. It stirred something deep inside her belly, and she let out a loud, gurgly burp that slipped out before she could stop it. “Ugh- excuse me,” she whispered to no one, her face flaming red. She pressed a hand to her lips and belched again, wet and sharp. Her eyes watered. “God…”
By the time she read Daniel’s text: “Hey baby, how’s your day? Can’t wait to see you tonight. Love you.” She was barely holding it together. Her hands trembled as she typed back:
“Rough. Stomach’s a mess. Can’t wait to be home. Love you.”
Closing time couldn’t come fast enough. She moved like a ghost, going through the motions of locking up and wiping down the counters, her arms heavy and her gut groaning like it wanted out of her. She doubled over with another hiccup, sharp and sudden, and let out a low, breathy moan as she pressed both hands to her stomach. Another sticky burp forced its way up, louder this time, echoing off the bakery walls.
She barely made it to her car. The drive was a nightmare. Every bump in the road sent a jolt of nausea straight up her spine. She burped uncontrollably the whole ride, thick, painful ones that stung the back of her throat and left her gagging. She pulled over once to lean out the door, dry heaving until her arms trembled from the effort. Her belly kept gurgling like it was speaking its own language—long, squelchy growls that turned her skin cold.
When she finally pulled into the driveway, she sat behind the wheel for a long minute, forehead resting against it, breathing shallowly. She hiccupped again, then let out a guttural burp that left her teary-eyed and panting.
Daniel was already at the door, his silhouette blurred through her watery vision. He opened it before she could even reach for her keys.
“Baby, Jesus—you look wrecked,” he whispered, catching her before she could stumble.
She collapsed into his arms like she’d been waiting for them all day. “I feel like hell,” she mumbled, her voice cracking. “Everything hurts. I just want to feel better”
He guided her inside without hesitation, helping her out of her jacket and onto the couch. She groaned as she sank into the cushions, unzipping her jeans all the way and letting her bloated belly rise, tight and round beneath her soft tee. Her stomach let out a wild growl, bubbly and miserable.
Daniel returned with a steaming cup of ginger tea and a water bottle. “Here, baby. Tiny sips, okay?”
She nodded, taking the tea with both hands. It smelled like heaven, but the heat of it made her gag, and she shoved it aside. Her belly gurgled so loud it startled them both. Then came another hiccup—violent and high-pitched—followed by a sick, spluttering burp that left her slumped forward.
“Daniel-” she groaned, her voice hoarse. “I think I’m gonna be sick.
“Okay, okay. Come on, babe.” He helped her up, and she half-stumbled toward the bathroom, both hands wrapped around her middle.
She dropped to her knees in front of the toilet just in time to retch. At first, nothing but painful heaves came, but the moment she tried to inhale, a monstrous burp ripped from her throat, wet and ragged, followed immediately by a violent flood of vomit. It hit the bowl with a harsh splash, the force making her cry out between heaves. She was usually a ‘get it over and done with’ type of person, but today she just felt to vulnerable and miserable.
Daniel knelt beside her, one hand holding her hair back, the other rubbing firm circles into her back. “I’ve got you, baby. Just let it out.”
Luna sobbed into the toilet between rounds of retching. Her belly gurgled again, long and high-pitched, just before another wave surged up. She moaned, miserable, spewing more vomit into the bowl. The sour taste burned her nose and throat, tears streaming down her cheeks as she panted between heaves.
After what felt like forever, the spasms finally slowed. She slumped forward, forehead resting on her arm, weak and shaking.
“I hate this,” she whispered brokenly. “It hurts, babe.”
“I know. I know, baby,” Daniel murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You did amazing. Let’s clean you up.”
He helped her wash out her mouth, guided her gently back to the couch, and wrapped her in one of their coziest blankets. Her belly still whined occasionally, soft gurgles and watery whimpers making her flinch. Every now and then, a small hiccup would sneak up, followed by a low, rattly burp that made her grimace.
Daniel stayed with her the whole time, one arm wrapped around her shoulders, whispering soft things like, “You’re okay, I’ve got you,” and, “Just breathe, baby.”
The night stretched on—long, slow, and quiet. She didn’t eat. She barely drank. But she laid there, tucked under his arm, breathing in sync with him while her gut slowly settled into something less monstrous.
Eventually, she drifted off against his chest, his hand still rubbing slow circles across her back. And though her stomach still gurgled beneath the blanket, and her throat still burned, she knew she’d be fine and feel better soon, because he wasn’t going anywhere.
———————
The room was dim now, lit only by the soft glow of a salt lamp in the corner. Outside, the city murmured faintly, the cars in the distance, the occasional voice drifting up through the apartment windows. But in their little living room, time had slowed. Luna lay half-curled under the blanket, her head resting on Daniel’s thigh, eyes glassy and half-lidded, body still trembling faintly from the earlier upheaval.
Her stomach gave a sudden glorp, wet and embarrassedly loud, and she winced. “God,” she muttered, her voice a scrape. “Still making noises like I’m brewing a potion in there.
Daniel smoothed his hand through her hair. “A really angry one,” he said softly, a small smile playing at his lips. “Babe, you sure you don’t want to try lying on your side? Might help settle it.”
She didn’t answer right away, just hiccupped again, her body flinching from the sudden jolt. A burp followed, thick and involuntary, rattling from deep in her chest. She let it out with a tired moan, pressing her face harder into his thigh.
“I feel like a broken soda can,” she croaked.
“You’re a beautiful, miserable soda can,” he murmured, brushing his thumb over her temple.
Luna smiled gently, “You sound stupid and you’re not helping” She shifted uncomfortably and groaned as her stomach churned with the movement.
Daniel snorted and kissed her head, moving so he was laying flat to make Luna more comfortable.
Another hour passed like that, slow and syrupy. Luna tried to doze off again, but every time her stomach gave a particularly loud glunk or she felt another burp building, her body jerked awake. She sat up once, abruptly, hand flying to her mouth.
Daniel was there instantly, crouched in front of her. “Baby-?”
She gagged, a hiccup shaking her whole frame. Then she lurched off the couch and ran back toward the bathroom. He was right behind her.
This time, the vomiting came fast. Violent, like her body was punishing her for even trying to rest. The sounds were wet splashes and low, echoing moans as she emptied what little was left inside her. Her belly sounded like it was collapsing in on itself, whining and sloshing. She clung to the porcelain rim like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.
Daniel knelt behind her, arms around her waist, forehead against her shoulder blade. “It’s okay, I’ve got you, baby. Let it out. I’m right here.”
She sobbed through another wave, her throat raw, her face pale and clammy. Her stomach clenched so hard it made her toes curl. When it was finally over, she didn’t even try to get up. She just sagged into his arms, breath shaking.
“Fuck,” she whispered, voice cracking again. “Fuck, I feel like I’m dying.”
“You’re not,” Daniel said softly, kissing the back of her head. “You’ll be fine. I’m right here.”
He helped her clean up again, this time lifting her off the bathroom floor like she weighed nothing and carrying her back to the couch. He brought a cool cloth for her face, tucked the blanket tighter around her, and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.
“Just rest now,” he said. “No more moving unless it’s to get you some ginger candy or a time machine.”
She gave a weak laugh that turned into a burp, then a hiccup. “God- still? Why is my stomach talking?”
“It’s processing trauma,” he said gently. “Like the rest of you.”
Luna closed her eyes, too tired to even roll them. Her belly let out another long, sulky gurgle beneath the blanket.
Hours passed. The night deepened. Daniel stayed with her, reading his book he grabbed off the shelf, massaging her lower back when the cramps returned, rubbing slow circles into her scalp when she hiccupped or whined. At some point she whispered, “I’m sorry,” into his chest.
He blinked. “What on earth for?”
“For being gross. For ruining tonight. For- ugh.” Another burp pushed up, one that ended in a sharp little gag. She buried her face in his shirt. “That.”
Daniel leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “Baby, there’s nothing gross about someone I love feeling this awful. You’re not normally this embarrassed, what happened to my care free girlfriend?”
That made her cry again. But this time, it wasn’t from pain.
The gurgles of her belly began to slow to a tired simmer, and she finally drifted off into a deep sleep.
