YouTuber Imagines

𑁍𝗦𝗮𝗺 𝗚𝗼𝗹𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗵~𝗘𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗼𝗽𝗵𝗼𝗯𝗶𝗮𑁍

TW~Fear of throwing up, and eating afterwards and vomit.

Y/N's POV

I woke up with a start, feeling a wave of nausea wash over me. I groaned softly, clutching my stomach as I tried to quell the rising panic within me. I knew what was coming, and I dreaded it with every fiber of my being.

"Sam," I whispered, shaking his shoulder gently. "Sam, I don't feel well."

He stirred beside me, his eyes fluttering open as he turned to face me. "What's wrong, angel?" he asked, concern etched in his voice.

"I... I think I'm going to be sick," I admitted, my voice trembling slightly. I hated the thought of throwing up, hated the sensation of it, hated the aftermath of having to eat afterwards.

Sam's eyes widened in alarm as he sat up, rubbing my back soothingly. "It's okay, angel. Let's get you to the bathroom."

He helped me to my feet, guiding me to the bathroom where I knelt in front of the toilet, feeling the bile rise in my throat. I gagged, my heart pounding in my chest as tears welled up in my eyes.

"It's okay, baby. Just let it out," Sam murmured, his hand running gently over my back as he pressed a kiss to my shoulder blade.

I retched violently, the sound echoing in the small room as I emptied the contents of my stomach. Sam continued to rub my back, offering words of comfort as I gasped for breath between heaves.

After what felt like an eternity, I finally slumped back, my forehead damp with sweat as I tried to catch my breath. Sam handed me a damp washcloth, gently wiping my face as he helped me to stand.

"I'm so sorry, baby" I whispered, feeling the shame and humiliation wash over me. "I hate this."

Sam shook his head, pulling me into his arms. "Hey, it's okay. It's not your fault. I'm here for you, no matter what."

I collapsed onto the sofa downstairs, feeling weak and exhausted. The mere thought of having to eat made me want to curl up in a ball and cry. Sam saw the fear in my eyes and his heart broke for me.

"Hey, it's okay," he whispered, wiping away my tears with his thumb. "I'm here, I'll take care of you, I promise."

He gently lifted me into his lap, wrapping his arms around me as he held me close. I buried my face in his chest, seeking solace in his warmth and love. He stroked my hair and whispered sweet nothings in my ear.

"I made you some toast," he said softly, holding up a plate. "Just something light to settle your stomach. You don't have to eat it if you don't want to, but I think it will make you feel better."

I looked down at the toast, my hands trembling with fear. The idea of eating was overwhelming, but I knew I needed to do it for my own health. I took a deep breath and forced myself to take a bite, the taste bland and unappetizing in my mouth.

Tears slipped down my cheeks as I choked back a sob. "I-I can't do it, Sam," I whispered brokenly.

Sam hugged me tighter, his arms a shield of strength around me. "I know, angel, I know," he murmured, his voice filled with love and compassion. "But you're strong, and you can do this. I believe in you."

With his unwavering support, I somehow managed to eat the entire piece of toast. It was a small victory, but it felt like a monumental achievement to me. Exhausted from the ordeal, I snuggled closer to Sam and closed my eyes, finally able to relax in his arms.

He carried me upstairs to our bedroom, tucking me into bed with gentle care. He sat beside me, his hand brushing my forehead to check for fever. I felt his worry and love emanating from him, a soothing presence in the darkness.

"Thank you, Sam," I whispered, my voice soft and tired. "For taking care of me."

He smiled down at me, his eyes filled with tenderness. "Always, my beautiful girl," he replied, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead. "I'll always be here for you, no matter what. I love you."