#woke up with a migraine and rolling nausea

[beauty-grace-outer-space]

This has been the most series of unfortunate events morning.

[chaotic-orphan]

Intoxicating Fear (Xiv)

Wake up call

Continued from // Masterpost

This one was a struggle, I’m not happy with the end of it, but… the first half is good enough

*~*~*~*~*

Kit woke in the middle of the night, his head on fire as if there was poison lacing through it. He lurched to the side of the bed, rolling over the damp sheets sweat clinging to his forehead and hair. He hit the ground on his hands and knees, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain and resting his forehead on the cool wooden floor of his bedroom.

He groaned, nausea climbing up his throat that he fought not to throw up. What would he even throw up? Bile? He hadn’t eaten anything all day.

Fuck… Kit let out another moan of pain, the terrible clanging pain of it quieting from the hammer on an anvil level pounding. Slowly, dreadfully slowly, Kit sat back on his hips, raising his head to try and sit vertically. He shivered as he set his shoulders against his bed frame, his sweat freezing on his skin, teeth chattering as he looked to his clock.

6.15 a.m.

He needed to get something, painkillers something, water— anything. He grabbed his shirt by the collar and yanked it up over his head, throwing it down beside him on the floor. It landed with a heavy wet slap, but Kit didn’t care. He did the same with his bottoms and pushed himself to his feet, his muscles aching as he walked to his wardrobe and grabbed some fresh pyjamas, pulling them on. Some fresh socks.

The house was almost expectant, eerie, as Kit opened his door and padded down the hall, hand on the railing as he took the stairs. As if the house had been woken with Kit’s nightmare or… something. It felt like he had eyes on him, but he didn’t care enough to investigate the shadows peeking at him in his mind.

He grabbed the painkillers, filled a glass with water and turned to walk back up the stairs. Rain pattered heavy against the roof, wind creaking the gutters and trees outside. The changing shadows were just that, shadows as the dawn tried to yawn awake. The skies oppressed with the rainclouds and poor weather, and Kit fell asleep before first light broke, curling up in Mentor’s bed, arms wrapped around himself, shivering to sleep while the house’s shadows watched over him.

Kit woke again later with that same ear shattering headache that drew a cry from his throat. He didn’t wake in a cold sweat like last time, but the headache was somehow worse like a migraine. The pressure was unbelievable and it felt as if someone had reached inside his skull and took his brain, squeezing it in the palm of their hands like putty and Kit opened his eyes as a single name crossed his mind: Ambrose.

“Motherfucker,” Kit ground out as he got his feet on the ground, the room swaying as he stood. Shit… where did he leave his phone? Kit’s feet stumbled forward just before he reached the door, hand flying out to catch himself on the wall. He wasn’t going to make it downstairs if Ambrose didn’t at least let up a bit.

I’m coming! Kit thought as loud as he could, over the thunderous rolling of sound and pressure. He didn’t even know if Ambrose’s power worked like that. How far was his reach? Could he even hear Kit’s thoughts from so far away? Kit paused at the railing of the stairs, white knuckled grip keeping him upright.

The headache lessened in pressure, but remained there in the back of his mind, thrumming impatient for Kit to reach his phone. Kit walked down the stairs carefully, dreading every step closer he got to his phone. He turned it on and waited for the screen to reboot. There’s no way Ambrose knew where he was, did he? Did he have to be close for his power to work? Or did it just matter that he was in the city — could his reach be that strong?

Kit had only put his pin to unlock the phone in when Ambrose’s name flashed across his phone. Kit answered after the fourth ring, just to piss him off.

“What?”

“Christopher!”

“My name’s not Christopher, Rosey.”

“Fine, Mallory,” Ambrose drawled, far too chirper for Kit who was just dragged out of bed. “You slept in.”

“I would have slept longer if you weren’t so fucking needy.”

“I did knock first, but you weren’t answering your door.”

Kit froze, turning his head to the front door. “I didn’t hear you,” Kit said, voice thankfully even.

“That’s fine. You can see why I went to plan B then. Just let me in now, it’s cold outside.”

Kit didn’t answer. A beat passed between them. Then, “Kit. I’m waiting.”

Kit licked his lips. “Can you even force me over the phone?”

Ambrose laughed a cold, humourless chuckle. He didn’t answer, instead he said: “Kit, open the front door.”

Apparently he could. Kit felt his feet carry him forward, his heart thundering in his ears, because what if Ambrose knew where he was? What if he was waiting outside that door? Kit didn’t want him in his house. His childhood home, where he had countless memories with Mentor.

Kit swallowed hard as his hand settled on the lock. It clicked open and Kit opened the door. He let out a small laugh as he did, seeing his porch empty of any sadistic villain.

“Kit, I’m getting impatient.”

“I opened the door, Rosey,” Kit told him. Kit felt a sudden sharp streak run through his mind, as if searching for a lie.

“I told you that you weren’t allowed to run, or disappear,” Ambrose said. Kit could hear the cold anger in his voice and could imagine Ambrose’s face right now.

“Maybe you’re losing your touch, Omen,” Kit said with a laugh. “Better luck next time. I’m going back to bed.”

“Kit—!”

“Bye, Rosey. Have a nice day.”

Kit pulled the phone away from his ear to hang up on the bastard when Ambrose’s voice rang out again. “Do you want me to find that water Hero instead, Kit? Oh, what was their name? Tides?”

Kit’s thumb hovered over the red end call button, his heart hammering against his chest. He should hang up. He should hang up. He wanted to hang up. Hasn’t he suffered enough? Wasn’t it somebody else’s turn to suffer the sadist?

His hand was shaking and he wanted to scream. Just end the call! It’s not your fault what a fucking Villain does. You can’t control his actions. Nobody would ever know that you could’ve saved Tides, it would be a tragic accident and—

Mentor’s face flashed through Kit’s mind and he balled his free hand into a fist at his side. Did he really want to have to visit two people in hospital, especially when he could have prevented one of them from being there in the first place?

“Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick—”

“Fine!” Kit spat into the phone. He could almost see Ambrose’s horrible smile.

“If you are not at your apartment in an hour, I will make good on my threat, Mallory. See you soon.”

Ambrose hung up. Kit stared at his reflection in the black screen of his phone and cursed, slamming the door shut and letting out a long, guttural: “FUCK!”

His voice crackled and echoed with electricity, his phone like a battery in his hand that he was draining. He let out a breath, straightening and focused on moving the charge back into his phone until the screen blinked up at him.

Fuck, at this rate he would need to wear power dampeners just to ensure he didn’t cause any power outages on the way back to his apartment. His apartment… His apartment where Ambrose was waiting, and probably pissed off.

God… how long had he been free of the bastard? Two, three days? Such a short amount of peace, and the first day Kit had spent most of it sleeping! He didn’t even consider enjoying it because exhaustion had forced him into bed.

Kit had a quick shower and left, taking the metro back to his apartment. The entire way his mind raced with the sheer power that Ambrose possessed. How was any Hero ever meant to beat him? To defeat him?

A smaller voice in his mind echoed a poignant: how will I ever defeat him?

But… No, if Ambrose was really as strong as he wanted Kit to believe then he would have taken over the city at any given moment. He could have wiped the minds of the city’s entire population and made them think that Ambrose was the number one hero, and why stop there? Why not the mayor? Or something else more grandiose and Ambrose-y.

No… There’s no way Ambrose would just let the world be if he could do that on such scale. There had to be something local about his ability. Some restraint. Something that stops him from controlling whoever he wants, whenever he wants.

The information didn’t stop his palms from sweating, or the dread from building in his stomach as he came to his stop. The doors opened with a soft whoosh and a creak and Kit stepped out into the underground. His apartment was a five minute walk from here.

He checked his watch. He still had fifteen minutes. He could hang back for a minute, maybe dawdle away some of the time so he wouldn’t have to see Ambrose again for as long as he possibly could. Then Mentor flashed through his mind again and he found himself ascending the steps to street level and walking towards his apartment.

Towards Ambrose.

Towards Omen.

Towards his tormentor.

His heart shudders to a stop when he sees Ambrose in his charcoal overcoat he wore the first day Kit met him on the docks. No doubt he was wearing some expensive suit beneath.

He looked so out of place in front of Kit’s small white block of apartments. He looked too much like a stranger, a foreigner who wasn’t properly acquainted with the style this side of town — as if Ambrose had just walked the wrong side of the river and was about to knock for directions.

Kit’s apartment was on the rougher side of the city because he liked it that way, and too many times he had seen people who dressed like Ambrose getting jumped or mugged on the street in certain alleyways.

Kit almost scoffed at the thought of someone jumping Ambrose. He pitied the imaginary thief who would cross Ambrose’s path.

You crossed my path, Kit.

Kit blinked then stopped. Ambrose was standing on the small path that led up to Kit’s apartment on the second floor. His back was turned to Kit, standing relaxed beside the railing. Ambrose knew that he was here and he didn’t turn his head to show he knew.

You’re so dramatic.

Ambrose turned his head this time, his dark eyes capturing Kit’s and smiling. Tick, tock, tick—

Kit started walking after that. He didn’t want to give the bastard any reason to go after Tides. He checked his phone for the time to see he still had four minutes. He took a breath as he ascended the steps to where Ambrose stood waiting patiently.

Ambrose regarded him with a cool look. “Where were you?”

“Not here.”

Ambrose stared at him for a beat. Then he said, “fine. Open the door.”

Kit didn’t fight his body as it obeyed the command. To be honest he was happy he didn’t have to look at Ambrose for those few precious seconds, his alabaster skin closer to some statue than an actual human.

The lock opened with a click. Kit pushed down on the handle and the moment the door cracked open, Ambrose shoved him inside. Kit stumbled forward, half expecting the attack and turned to face Ambrose once he regained his footing.

Ambrose smiled coldly at him, closing the door behind him and locking it again. “Kit,” he said with a drawn out sigh. “I trusted you to obey the terms of our deal.”

“No, you forced me to obey the terms of our deal,” Kit snapped in reply. “And if you fucked up the terms in the first place, it’s not my fault.”

Ambrose took a step forward, and Kit fought himself not to match it with one back. “Where were you, Kit?”

“If you thought I was just going to wait here like a little puppy for you to drop in whenever you feel like it and torture me, you are sorely mistaken.”

Ambrose clicked his tongue against his teeth. “I knew it was too premature to trust you with your freedom. You’re still so defiant. What have you got left to prove?”

“If you think I’m just going to obey every command you—”

“Get on your knees.”

Kit’s knees hit the floor before he realised what happened. He had only begun to push himself up when Ambrose’s black eyes flashed above him, his lips that horrible red against his marble skin. “Stay on your knees.”

“You’re a fucking—”

“Bark.”

Kit did his best imitation of a dog. He could feel the humiliation crawl pink up his neck at the sound.

“Look at me,” Ambrose said, and Kit glared up at him, fists balling by his sides. “See how you obey every command for me? You’re so good at it, like a little puppy.”

“You’re such a dick.”

“I wouldn’t have had to do any of this if you just told me where you were hiding.”

Kit’s lips curled back into a snarl. “Make me!”

Ambrose clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and walked past Kit. Kit turned his head, but stared back at the door when Ambrose told him to not turn around. He could hear Ambrose taking his jacket off behind him and laying it somewhere. Then he heard the sound of his tap turning on, and a moment later the click of the kettle.

Kit’s lips curled up viciously, his nose crinkling at the sound. What the fuck was Ambrose doing?! It’s ridiculous. Well fuck that. Fuck him. Kit reached for the electricity in his kettle and pulled it from the plug. The kettle stopped thrumming. Ambrose sighed behind Kit and shoes clacking off the wooden floors got closer and closer until Kit could feel Ambrose standing behind him.

“Show me your electricity,” said Ambrose.

“No,” Kit said.

“Show me your electricity, Kit,” Ambrose said again, and this time against his will, Kit’s fingers clicked the spark into his hand and he held up his arm for Ambrose to inspect.

Ambrose hummed behind him. “It’s not red anymore.” Ambrose walked around Kit to face him, and stared down into his eyes. “Hmm.”

“What?” Kit snapped.

Ambrose reached his hand forward and pressed his finger to Kit’s forehead. Kit shivered as the familiar ice cold sludge of Ambrose’s power flooded his brain and his electricity stopped cackling in his hand. The kettle thrummed to life again, back to boiling and Kit stared mutinously ahead at his floor.

“Good lad. You haven’t forgotten the futility of struggling in my absence it seems. You can stand up now.”

Ambrose walked back to the kitchen, but Kit stayed on his knees for another moment before getting to his feet. He walked to his table and sat down at it, running a hand down his face as he watched Ambrose get two mugs from the cupboard and grab the instant coffee.

He hated seeing him. He hated seeing Ambrose so at home in his apartment, as if they were roommates or friends. He wanted so bad to just murder him in that second, but the heaviness of being back here, under Ambrose’s control it was… exhausting. Kit was so tired and it hadn’t been what? Ten minutes yet? Twenty?

“You should really think about getting a cafetière Kit. The coffee is better than instant.”

“Sure, i’ll take your word for it.”

“Oh come on now, you’re not already defeated are you? Are you sulking?”

“Sure.”

Ambrose hummed his disapproval but didn’t say anything else in reply. He walked to the fridge and opened the door, his eyes going to the milk and grabbing it. He frowned staring down at the expiry date. The 21st… that was four… five days ago? Ambrose’s frown deepened as he put the milk back in the fridge and closed the door. His eyes skimming over Kit at his table, expression dazed.

He hadn’t been home in days, or he would have noticed his expired milk. Interesting.

Kit only snapped back into reality when Ambrose placed a cup of steaming black liquid in front of him. “Thanks.”

“Oh Kit, don’t be so glum. This was our deal, right? Your life for a couple visits a week.”

Kit let out a deep sigh as he grabbed his mug closer and stared down into his coffee. Ambrose’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t want this. He wanted Kit to have more life, not less.

“So,” Ambrose began, schooling his features into a more neutral expression. “Tell me what you’ve been up to.”

“My life, right?” Kit said, his eyes finally raising to meet Ambrose’s black ones. “That means you don’t ask about it.”

“Oh come on, tell me what you did while I was gone. The first thing you did.”

Kit immediately thought of his minor breakdown the second Ambrose left and he grimaced, setting his lips into a thin line and bringing the mug into his hands letting it hover just beside his lips.

“I went for a run.”

“And how was your run?”

“It felt… good.” Kit wasn’t lying. The run was the one thing that kept him sane after his minor meltdown. He hoped Ambrose was true to his word and staying out of his mind. Otherwise he would see everything… just in case Kit tried his best to make his mind go blank.

“Now, see? It felt good. I give you back your life, your autonomy in return for a few visits, I’m not unreasonable Kit.”

Kit scoffed and took a sip of his coffee.

“What else did you do? Where did you go?”

Kit stared down at his coffee. Ambrose rolled his eyes. “Do I have to force everything out of you, Kit? I have no qualms about using my powers on you as you know. In fact, I quite enjoy it.”

“I went to see my mentor,” Kit snapped, eyes locking onto Ambrose’s black ones. “Happy now?”

Ambrose smiled. “Ecstatic. How is Superhero?”

Kit’s grip tightened on his mug of coffee. Ambrose raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Was Superhero not your mentor?”

Kit set his jaw and looked away. Ambrose wouldn’t know, of course he wouldn’t know. As far as Ambrose knew, Mentor was before Kit’s time. Before Kit ever became a hero. Ambrose probably thought Kit came up through the ranks with Superhero, not Mentor.

And if that’s true then that means Ambrose wouldn’t know what Mentor meant to Kit, and Kit liked it better that way.

“I thought I said I don’t want to talk about my life outside of you,” he said instead of telling Ambrose to fuck off.

Ambrose hummed. “Look at me, Kit.”

Kit obeyed, swallowing as his eyes found Ambrose’s. The two black pools seemed to swirl like a storm, drawing Kit further and further in until he was lost in their abyss.

“I don’t want—”

“I don’t care,” Ambrose cut in, effectively silencing Kit’s protests. “Answer me honestly, is Superhero your mentor?”

“Why do you care?!” Kit snarled.

The corner of Ambrose’s lips tilted up slightly. “I care because you’re trying to hide something from me, and you know how much I love—”

“Torturing people, yeah I know.”

Ambrose sat back in his chair and shrugged his shoulders casually. “Always the hard way.”

Kit’s brows furrowed at the villain. Shit.

“Tell me who your mentor is, Kit.”

“Why?” Kit asked, anger leaking from his voice, replaced with a guarded almost pleading sadness.

“Because you’re protesting too much.”

“Please,” Kit whispered then froze. Ambrose froze too. Then his lips turned up into his smirk and Kit knew Ambrose was going to force him to tell him about Mentor.

“Tell me who-”

It was Kit’s turn to cut Ambrose off. “Mentor,” he ground out through gritted teeth. Ambrose’s eyes widened slightly, his eyebrows twitching up in surprise, his lips slightly parted, froze mid-sentence.

A moment of silence passed between them. The moment turned into a minute, and Kit just closed his eyes and drank his coffee in the silence. He could feel and hear the cogs working in Ambrose’s head trying to match the timelines up and coming up blank.

“You’re joking,” Ambrose said eventually. Kit looked away, it felt as if someone had a hand around their heart and squeezed it. “Oh. I see. You’re not joking… but Mentor was Superhero before—”

“Yeah,” said Kit. “I know.”

“Then—”

Kit’s scoff cut Ambrose off, his eyes going back to Ambrose’s. “What? You want my whole tragic backstory, Rosey?” He asked with a sardonic smile. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

“Mallory, I—”

“Didn’t know?” Kit supplied, his voice rising in pitch. “You didn’t know? Does it look like I give two shits about what you know or not?! I don’t need your false pity, or your remorse for your actions, Omen, because we both know you don’t mean it.”

Ambrose’s expression darkened. His features schooled into neutrality, but Kit could read him by now. The subtle too-tight wind of his jaw, the coolness in his eyes, Ambrose was pissed and he was about to take it out on Kit. Honestly? Kit didn’t care. He preferred it when Ambrose was cruel to him, at least then he didn’t have to think about Ambrose possibly having human emotions, or being human at all.

When Ambrose was hurting Kit he was just a villain, and Kit could hate him completely without second guessing himself.

Ambrose stood up and Kit braced himself for impact, whatever it was. Then Ambrose grabbed his jacket, and walked towards Kit’s front door. Kit frowned, staring after the villain. “Hey! Where’re—”

“I’ll see you later, Kit.”

The door opened and closed. Kit flinched, his heart pounding in his chest and his thoughts racing through his brain.

Mainly: what the hell was that all about?

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

Orphanage roll-call (lmk if you wanna be added or removed): @beatenbruisedandbloody @404lunar1216 @whumpyworld @nameless-beanie @andithewhumper r @annablogsposts @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @sleepy-pearl l @n3rv0usn0v4 @whumpatize-me-captain @sunshiline-writes @burningkittypoet @honeyed-euphrates @sacredwrath @theonewithallthefixations @acer-gaysimpstuff @m3rakii @xxgalgurlxx @princess-bubble-blossom @blood-enthusiast t @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @andtheysaidspeaknoww @dutifullykrispyland @mononeigbour @lovethiswriting

[he-goes-down]

There Was A Time:

Previous chapters/ warnings

9. Patience:

A/n: THIS IS SO SHIT SORRY, THIS IS A FILLER CHAPTER AND I REALLY JUST WANTED TO USE PATIENCE IN SOME WAY

Additional A/n: edited it because it's shit (still shit cause I haven't wrote in ages)

BUT DON'T WORRY GUYS WE UP AND WE BACK

THE HOLIDAY IS HERE AND THE NEXT CHAPTER IS HALFWAY DONE <3 (kill me)

Second Person POV:

You woke up with a pounding headache. You didn't remember drinking that much last night, in fact you don't remember a lot from last night. You rubbed your eyes trying to clear your vision and see where you are. You felt a breeze on your skin and looked down at yourself. 'Oh shit.' You were butt naked in a random bed. You looked to the left of you, Sebastian was sleeping next you, his hair scattered all over the pillow and his face. You were relived but wanted to scream. You just had sex with your ex. You sighed and rolled over to the other side, you first wanted to focus on getting more sleep to calm down this migraine. As you rolled to your right you were met with another face. David. He sleepily put his arm around you and pulled you closer. You were shocked beyond belief. And not to your surprise He was naked as well as the blonde on the other side of you. You vowed to never have a threesome again after your last one a few years ago but seems like you've been breaking a few of your vows this past year. You could tick this off your New Year's bucket list. You tried to shimmy out of David's embrace, as you got back to middle of the bed you sat up, and a wave of nausea came over you. You quickly jolted and rushed out of the covers and ran to the ensuite of the bedroom to throw up the little food you had last night into the toilet bowl. Sometimes you really couldn't hold your liquor. After what seemed like hours, keeling over into the toilet and getting dizzy from the severely unpleasant experience, you brushed your teeth and numbly stepped to the bed again and stole one of whoever's shirt was on the ground, put it on, and climbed back into the bed to rest more.

You were soon kicked out of the place as the owner wanted everyone out. You and the rest of the band went home but Sebastian and David accompanied you and walked you home and talked and giggled about last night. You appreciated them being cheery and helpful but were too sore and sick to really be enthusiastic, so you kind of zombie walked with them back to the house.

A few days had past, and your nausea hadn't died down. You were starting to get worried. You knew Seb is the kind of guy that 'doesn't dig rubbers', and to add even more fuel to the fire, you don't even remember what David was doing there, there were endless possibilities to who the father was if that was the cased, well not endless, two maybe two point five. You had taken two pregnancy tests although, one came out positive and the other came out negative. 'Shit' you'd have to go to the doctors. You were too frightened to go alone, what if you actually were pregnant and you passed out at the news? Seb and David were out of town, and you telling them about the possibility of you being pregnant might make matters worse too. As well as you were too scared to ask any of the guys to take you, who knows how they would react. You sat on the edge of Duff's bed, the creaky mattress sinking slightly, face buried in your hands and your elbows pressed on your knees, sighing into your palms and rubbing your face in contemplation as thousands of things were rushing through your mind. You heard a small knock at the door, fully expecting it to be Duff, and relaxing slightly thinking of his somewhat comforting presence. You looked up from your hands, only to see Axl standing by the door looking at you with guilty and concerned eyes. "Fuck off, I'm not in the mood." You bluntly told him and went back to dreading into your palms. "I just-..." He began in an irritated tone but inhaled and sighed. "I just wanted to say sorry." He spoke sincerely, his words lingering in the air slightly. ‘sorry’ Axl was ‘sorry’ yeah right, you thought. You responded back in a breathy chuckle. He couldn't possibly serious. It was quiet. You looked up again to see him still standing there, his face showing some kind of disappointment. Shit he was serious. You started to feel bad, his shining eyes showed so much regret and sincerity. "Shit sorry..." you apologised, a bit breathy, for laughing, and you looked down and away, not giving any eye contact in this awkward moment. He then stepped into the room and came over and sat next to you, he raised his hand to put it on your back, but he hesitated and retracted it, placing it on his own thigh. Before, you guys were so close, but now it just felt awkward even being in the same room with each other. "Ax… please, I really don't feel like talking right now." You told him, still not looking at him, just trying to dismiss him. You hadn't called him that in ages, he felt slightly glad that the bond between the two of you wasn't completely gone as you called him that nickname. "Listen… I'm glad you came to apologize but not right now, please." You said, glancing at him, then your face now going back into your hands. He didn't leave, he didn't even consider leaving you alone. He still sat next to you, in silence. You felt his hand touch your back, placed gently, not moving, just softly hovering. 

"You've been throwing up recently." He spoke softly, not with any condescension, not trying to imply or insinuate anything. You didn't think he would notice, or at all care. You thought Duff would be the first to say something. But again, you tried to be secretive as possible. "It’s... probably a bug or something." You said tiredly, getting your face out of your hands and crossing your arms over your stomach. "I'll take you." He spoke, breaking some of the silence. You looked at him with slight confusion. "To the doctors. I know you said once you didn't like going alone." He explained. He was being sincere, and you were willing to at least give him that second chance. You reluctantly agreed after contemplation, getting ready and heading off the hospital. 

Sitting in the boring waiting area, the sound of receptionists typing and soft coughs from strangers on other sides of the rooms. Your leg shook nervously as you bounced the ball of your foot on the floor. Your hands clutching each other in front of you and your elbows rested on your thighs. Looking around, waiting for that one call of your name. You felt a bigger warm hand ingulf your two ones. You looked up to Axl, his soft eyes giving you a comforting look. Your stomach sunk, you felt horrible. Nausea. Nauseous looking at his face. His stupidly good-looking face. The face you stupidly fell for, and feeling like you’re still head over heels for him in this moment. You wanted to say so much. Why was he sorry in this moment? What triggered it? Was it because Erin and him aren't together? Were you a rebound? You opened your mouth about to ask the first question that came to mind, but you were cut off before a word even came out. The doctor called your name. You sighed before getting up from the uncomfortable chair, waving a small goodbye to Axl before entering the room you were allocated to. 

Some normal icebreaker questions were asked, then the doctor got you to sit on the bed, checking your breathing and heartbeat. You told him your symptoms. Your nausea, fatigue, etc. "Is there any chance you could be pregnant?" He had popped the question without hesitation. Still listening to your breathing, the cold stethoscope placed against your back. You just nodded and spoke a blunt 'Yes'. "Well, that's sweet of your boyfriend to come bring you here, most guys these days just run away at the moment it's mentioned." The doctor spoke. You were confused. You just laughed a fake 'yeah' trying to keep a comfortable atmosphere. What boyfriend? 'Fuck, he meant Axl.' "You two make a cute couple." He smiled at you as he finished his general check-up. Soon you were sent off the bathroom, with a cup. Nervous and jittery through every second. Giving your now filled cup to a nurse and the doctor inspected you for other reasons of your symptoms whilst your urine was being inspected. It felt like hours of painfully waiting, sitting on the examining bed with your teeth clenched, silently hissing in anxiety as your leg bounced nervously. The uncanny feeling of the hospital making your nerves prick uncomfortably even more. Your results came back soon, even though it felt like forever. The doctor said a farewell and you walked back to the waiting room and handed you the paper with your results, you clutched onto the piece of paper he gave you, not looking down at it just yet, then you looked up. You stopped. Your eyes scanning the waiting room. Axl wasn't there. Of course, he fucking wasn't. You thought as the same anger from the other night bubbled in your stomach. You began to walk out of the hospital with a storm, walking down the endless white hallways, the thought of Axl just abandoning you like that searing into you as you clutched the result sheet. ‘Of course he left, probably to fuck some hot nurse, who fucking knows… always second in his eyes.’ You thought, as you got to the big spacious lobby at the ground floor of the hospital. But then a glimpse of ginger was caught in your peripheral vision. With a turn of the head, there he was, standing at the till of a gift shop, one with balloons that said get well soon, stuffed animals, chocolates, flowers. In fact, he was standing with flowers and paying for them, giving the cashier a small smile and a wave as he finished paying. Turning around to see you looking at him. Shooting you the smile that make your knees weak and your stomach queasy. "Sorry, I thought you would take longer." He apologised and handed you the flowers, your favourites. You were silent, starring at the flowers, your heart doing small flutters. Subconsciously you knew you never stopped liking him. You looked up at him then back down at the flowers your mouth slightly open in surprise. "So... how was it?" He cocked his head to the side a bit, seeing how silent you are.

"Oh right-…”  You looked down at the paper in hand and back up at him, trying to shake off the countless emotions going through your head. “I was a bug, well more like food poisoning from the party. But the doctor gave me this, so we have to go to the pharmacy." You said holding up the piece of paper, which also had the prescription for nausea pills, giving it a small wave. 

You then both headed to the pharmacy and got your prescribed pills, heading out again just for a late afternoon stroll as there was really nothing else to do. Down by the boardwalk, looking out at the sun setting over the water. The orange and pink cascading and blending into the scenery, and the orange soft light and soft ocean breeze made it feel comforting familiar. You hadn't had one of these walks in ages with him, it was something you and him always enjoyed, it was nice to having something special like this back. You had almost fully forgiven him. Thoughts raced through your mind again. The apology? Was he serious? The flowers? Was it just to make you soft? You stressed. Axl immediately caught on. "You okay?" He asked. Putting his hands on your shoulders, stopping both of you in your tracks. Leading to the empty wooden bench closest to you. Taking a breath as you sat down, a soft sigh as you collect your thoughts and words. There was a pause, both looking at each other. The sun making his eyes glisten. "Why..." you began, trying to collect yourself. "Why did you kiss me?" You asked him. He didn't say anything, thinking of what to say, and he tried hard not to break eye contact. "And Erin?" You added. "What did it mean to you? What do I mean to you?" You emphasised the ‘I’ in last question. His hands creeped into yours, his head hanging slightly as he looked down at your hands in his now. You were about to take your hands away from his, but he held them tighter, gently, but still slightly tighter. "Fuck... I…" He began. "I love you, that’s why. I've been fucking in love with you." His words sent a shock through you, but other emotions were overriding the lovesick ones. "Then why go date someone else?" You retorted quickly with irritation at his inconsistency. "Because you always say you can't ‘date in the band’." He said. "Yes, but a week after? Seriously?" You responded. "I needed an out, I couldn't stop thinking about you after our kiss, it was making me crazy." He said, sighing with a gravel and running his hand through his hair. 

You didn't know what else to say. That it was stupid? That you loved him too? But even if you wanted you couldn't be with him. 

"I still want to... I still want you. I want to be with you." He sighed out softly, squeezing your hands. "You know we can't..." You told him. He began to talk about how he'll wait this time. Wait until you're ready. You knew it wouldn't happen, but at least gave him the chance, and yourself the chance of hope of you together. 

"If I can't have you right now, I'll wait dear."

———

A/n: SORRY THIS WAS ABSOLUTE SHIT, THERE SHOULD HAVE BEEN THE INCORPORATION OF 

'I sit here on the stairs 'cause I'd rather be alone'

AND 

'Said, woman, take it slow and things will be just fine'

PRAY THAT THE NEXT CHAPTER COMES OUT SOON

[cherryredillusions]

Fever Dream-Mordecai x reader

Soooo in this Mordecai has caught pneumonia and the flu at the same time, and he isn't feeling well (obvi) So he was sleeping then he had a damn fever dream

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Mordecai was sick. Not that this didn't happen often, in fact, it was a common occurrence. He was susceptible to illness in the winter, but this time it's much worse. He felt awful, with aches so bad he couldn't stand up, and his sinuses were painful, which made his ears hurt. His sore throat had calmed down to an itch, but his nausea and migraines were still awful. His fever had spiked to 102, and he also had the chills which didn't make it any better.

One night, he was sleeping peacefully, then he just randomly started crying a little. Rigby was a light sleeper, so he woke up immediately. He thought Mordecai was crying because of the peppermint he had in his mouth to cure his sore throat burning him or something. Mordecai was sensitive.

"UHHHHHH!" Rigby groaned as Mordecai woke up and sobbed.

"What the hell is wrong with you, man?" He yelled.

"I hurt her!" Mordecai sobbed, not looking up.

"Who did you hurt?" Rigby asked, now shaken up and confused.

Rigby almost immediately jumped up and ran to the door, opening it and bolting for your room. He burst in, finding you watching TV.

"What the fuck?" You snapped, startled.

"Mordecai's crying, and I don't know why!" Rigby shouted, clearly annoyed.

Your expression softened as you walked to their room, walking in slowly. Sure enough, you found him crying. You looked back for Rigby, but he had apparently stayed in your room watching TV. You rolled your eyes and walked to Mordecai's bed.

"What's wrong, Mordo? What happened?" You asked softly.

"I-I hurt you!" He sobbed, looking at you and rapidly apologizing.

"You didn't hurt me, what do you mean?" You asked, cupping his cheeks.

He didn't answer. You hugged him and he sobbed hard. After like 15 minutes, he calmed down and he was exhausted. You laid down on his bed, and he lied on top of you and slept.

"Love you." He mumbled.

"Love you too..." You said, drifting off.

[honestlydarkprincess]

for the prompts: hiding their face in the other's neck

maybe one day

buck x eddie || rated: t || wc: 1.1k

The second Eddie woke up he knew it was going to be a tough day. His head was killing him and he could feel the telltale signs of an oncoming migraine. He pushed himself up and out of bed and tried to get ready. Thankfully it was his day off but he still had to drive Christopher to school.

He stumbled into the bathroom and winced when he turned the lights on. Yeah, today was going to be a bad one. Splashing some cold water on his face, Eddie took a deep breath and rummaged around in the drawer for some Tylenol. He popped a couple pills and washed it down with water from the tap. He just needed to get Christopher to school and then he could come home, make his bedroom dark, and go to sleep. Thankfully he had purchased some black out curtains a while ago when he was working nights, those would come in handy today.

Eddie made it through getting dressed and brushing his teeth but when he walked into the kitchen he was hit by a wave of nausea and he had to hunch over the counter, taking breaths until his stomach stopped rolling.

“Dad?” Christopher said softly, coming up beside him. “Do you have one of your headaches?”

“Yeah,” Eddie mumbled. He tried to smile but it came out more like a grimace. “I’m going to get you to school and then go back to bed. I should be fine by this afternoon.”

Chris hummed, not quite believing him. When Eddie got bad headaches it usually took more than a good nap for it to pass. “I’m going to call Buck.”

“You don’t have to call Buck, I can take you, mijo,” Eddie said, squinting against the light of the kitchen. Why was his house so damn bright?

“Yeah, I’m calling Buck. You only look like that—” Chris gestured at Eddie. “—when your headache is really bad.”

continue on ao3

[dreamsgazer]

Hello 🤗, love your works. I know you've done a sick prompt, but I was wondering if you would want to write another sick prompt with a crybaby reader who gets a migraine and (if this doesn't gross you out although this doesn't have to be in great detail ofc) throws up and Tan comforts the reader because they're in pain.

Dear Anon, you have no idea how happy I am to have received this ask, and thank you for your kind words! It means a lot!

I hope I did your request justice!

Warnings: mention of v*mit, nothing graphic at all though, some mild swearing.

MASTERLIST | Requests open, but I'm a bit slow in answering them!

Safe Harbor

The bang of pain makes you open your eyes and wince immediately after.

A migraine. A fucking, painfully horrible migraine.

You knew you shouldn't have indulged in the celebrations for Tangerine's return as much as you did. Too much sweets, too much champagne, too much loud music in the night after your scrumptious dinner together, too much of everything - except for the sex. Frankly, there is no such a thing as too much welcome -back- home- sex.

You fell asleep so happy, and now you feel on the verge of screaming in frustration.

As quietly as you can, not wanting to disturb his sleep, you slip outside the bed, sway down the hall, and reach the bathroom just in time for your stomach to explode.

You feel horrible, gross, and cold, not to mention that running to the toilet has significantly worsened your head's throbbing.

When a second wave of nausea hits, in the middle of the chaos you feel a fresh hand pressing against your sweaty forehead, while your hair is kept away from your face, wrapped in a rudimental ponytail.

"It's okay love, I've got you. Breathe."

Tangerine.

Of course, he woke up. He's such a light sleeper that you wonder if he sleeps at all or just lays down with his eyes closed.

You want to tell him you are sorry you interrupted his rest, you are sorry he has to see you in such a state, you are sorry for being sorry for something you can't control, but all you can do is whimper weakly that you have a migraine.

When the worse has passed, he helps you to sit with your back against the cold, tiled wall of your bathroom. Tangerine immediately notices how you wince when the faint dawn light hits your face, and quickly closes the roll shutters.

"Thank you," you murmur, letting tears slip down your flushed cheeks "I'm sorry."

"What the fuck are you sorry about?".

You gesture at yourself with trembling fingers, too much in pain to even contemplate a witty retort.

He shakes his head, kneeling before you "Let's bring you back to bad, shall we?"

The thought of standing and walking makes you want to cry a bit harder than you are already doing, and you lean on him without shame, wetting his bare shoulder with your tears, and whimpering at every step. He holds you while you wash your face and rinse your mouth, and not once he looks bothered of how slow and whining you are being.

When you are finally laying down on the stupidly costly sheets Tangerine insisted to gift you some months ago, he firmly orders you to wait for him there, while he goes and searches for some ibuprofen in your cabinets.

When you don't reply with one of your retorts, he frowns "That much in pain, uh?"

"Migraines suck," you whisper softly, closing your eyes once more.

Tangerine presses his lips against your forehead, his words tender on your skin "Be back in a second, alright, love?"

Swallowing the tab and the water goes more smoothly than you thought, thanks to his strong arm holding your shoulders, but you can't help rolling on your side and groaning when your brain crashes against your temples with a spasm.

Yep, this definitely sucks.

The mattress dips when Tangerine slides next to you, his arm holding you close to his side, comfortably resting between his chest and those biceps you love to hold on to so much.

"Try to get some sleep, beautiful, it'll help."

"I doubt it," you whimper bitterly, snuggling even closer to him. Despite the shower he took when he arrived at your apartment, his skin carries a faint track of cigarette and vetiver from his perfume.

Perhaps it doesn't help with the migraine, but it's a welcome reminder you are not alone and he's returned safely from his last mission.

"Trust me," he insists with a huff "When you are in pain, nothing is like some good, old sleep."

Well, you guess that when it comes to pain, he has way more experience than you, so maybe his advice is not so wrong.

"Thank you for being so patient with me," you whisper, kissing his scarred skin. His moustache tickles the tip of your nose in return, and he grunts "Don't mention it."

Tangerine is an exceptional partner, in many ways, but you know he still feels funny when you praise him for being kind, or gentle, or nice to you.

He's used to being strong, in control as much as he can, tough to the point of breaking himself before letting anything happen to Lemon or you, once he allowed himself to welcome your relationship in his heart.

You guessed a long time ago that a successful assassin cannot afford to be perceived as anything less than deadly dangerous, and from the bits he told you about his and Lemon's childhood, being praised was dramatically rare.

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

Considering all of this, the fact that he lets you see the side of him that adores cuddles, gentle teasing, and plain affection feels like a privilege.

Your breaths synchronize, and you feel your eyelids heavy.

"Tangerine," you murmur and he kisses your forehead again in silent acknowledgement "I'm really happy you are here."

A moment of silence, and perhaps you can feel his body pressing even more into yours before he answers quietly about breakfast together in the morning and a day just for the two of you.

If you liked it, please feel free to comment and reblog! I truly appreciate it.

[sevcasejay1chicago]

Steady- Kelly Severide

Characters mentioned: Matt Casey, Sylvie Brett, Blake Gallo, Ritter.

Summary: After feeling sick all day, the feeling finally wins over during the night. On shift.

Warnings: mentions of vomiting, gagging, sickness, needles.

Authors note: hey guys! Sorry it’s been a while. I also know this isn’t a request, but it’s something I had written already. I hope you enjoy! Thank you for sticking around!

——————————————

You had been feeling sick on and off all day. When you and Kelly woke up that morning, you had a brief wave of nausea while you guys were taking a shower. When you stopped talking mid-sentence to breathe through the nausea, Kelly quickly caught on and had gathered your hair in his hands to get it off your face and neck until you felt okay again. You both figured the shower was too hot and you might be dehydrated as the feeling came and went fairly quickly, so you went into the station with him.

During lunch, the feeling returned and stayed with you. You figured it was just whatever meal Gallo made was not sitting well, or the gruesome call you guys had directly after, and kept it from Kelly. Brett caught you kneeling by the ambo during a structure fire as you both waited for the all clear to leave. You brushed her off and said you just needed a breather, but she had her suspicions.

Somehow, you had managed to convince Kelly to let you sleep through dinner, too nauseous to put anything else in your body. Though right before lights out much later in the night, he had cornered you and had you eat some rice that Blake set aside for you. The rice calmed your stomach enough, much to your relief, and you laid down in Kelly’s quarters to catch some shut eye with the rest of the house while Kelly stayed awake doing some paperwork. Kelly took his time, knowing something was up and wanting to keep an eye on you.

Luckily there weren’t any calls for a few hours. So when you suddenly woke up, you were confused when you noticed Kelly’s back to you and the dark bunk room outside his office windows. The confusion quickly vanished when a strong wave of nausea rolled through your body. Without giving it much thought, you launched yourself out of Kelly’s bunk and threw open the door, barely hearing Kelly call out for you or the stir you caused in the bunk room as you sprinted for the bathroom.

Once you rounded the corner, you flipped on both light switches as you raced to one of the cubicles, sliding into the stall and barely getting your head over the bowl before you were vomiting. You sobbed as you first brought up a huge wave of vomit that left you shaking and panting for breath. Your ears rung as you choked up a mouth full of bile and gripped the walls to keep yourself from falling.

Meanwhile, Kelly had managed to get Matt to help calm the bunk room down, instructing him to get Boden to let him know something was wrong as he jogged toward the bathroom after you. Kelly stepped in and immediately heard your sobs that turned to wet gags. After turning off the big light to leave only the lights above the sinks just incase this was one of your migraines, Kelly silently steps into the stall behind you. He gently lays a hand on your back and rubs it up and down as he reaches forward with the other hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Alright. It’s okay. I’m here. Get it up.” Kelly whispers, grabbing your shoulder as you begin to sway unsteadily.

You sob, reaching back with one hand in search of your husband. This was rough. You haven’t felt this bad in ages.

Kelly sighs and takes your hand, gently slipping his fingers through yours and clutching your hand in his. He adjusts so that your arms are around your torso as he kneels to help balance you. “It’s going to be alright. It’ll be over soon. I’ve got you. Sh Sh Sh. It’s okay baby girl. Just let it happen.” Kelly keeps on soothing you with sweet nothings as you continue to retch, barely able to catch your breath.

Matt and Sylvie stepped into the room not too long after. Matt has a bottle of water and Sylvie has a cloth that she takes to the sinks to dampen. “Can you go grab Kelly’s mouth wash out of his locker?” Brett asks Matt, leaning up to kiss his cheek as she takes the water bottle from him. Matt simply nods and kisses her back before turning around.

Kelly is startled when he feels a tap on his shoulder. He is a mixture of surprised and relieved to find Sylvie looking back at him. “Here. Washcloth for her neck and water for when she’s ready. Matt is going to get your mouth wash from your locker. I’ll let Boden know you both need alternates.” Sylvie says, smiling sympathetically at Kelly as he tightens his hold on you when you almost fall over from gagging so forcefully.

Kelly nods his thanks and takes the washcloth, placing it gently on the back of your neck. He shushes you when you whine at the contact. “Can you get me some Benadryl or Zofran and some sick bags from the ambo? If I can get her slowed down enough, I can get us out of here and home. I think everyone would be more comfortable.” Kelly asks, barely turning back to Brett as he speaks, afraid to take his eye off you.

Brett nods, standing up and almost colliding with Matt, who had just walked up behind her to check on his friends. Matt is quick to place his hands on her hips to steady his girlfriend as she jerks in surprise. “Sure thing. Be right back.”

As Brett leaves, Matt squats down behind Kelly. “Need anything?” He asks, reaching forward and squeezing Kelly’s shoulder.

Kelly nods, shifting slightly once again to look at Matt. “I have a couple reports to finish and some ready to turn in. Can you get that sorted for me and get our bags and my keys ready for when she’s able to move?” Kelly asks his best friend, so grateful that Matt and Sylvie are his friends and he knows he can rely on them.

Matt nods and stands. “Of course.” Matt replies. “Sylvie and I will be home in a few hours. We will get some supplies on our way back.” Matt assures, before calling out a “feel better sweetheart” to you as he walks out of the room.

At this point, you have most of your weight on Kelly as you continue to heave, bringing up bits of bile. Kelly sighs and shushed you again, hating the fact that you are shaking like a leaf as you are practically in his lap since you can barely hold yourself up any longer. You have calmed some, but not by much as more heaves roll through your body. “That’s it. Take it easy. Just breathe.” Kelly encourages, rubbing your right shoulder before bringing his hand to the back of your neck and rubbing his thumb over the cloth. “Shhhhh. It’s okay baby. Try to breathe through it.”

Brett comes back in as Kelly has you almost calm again. She taps his shoulder and lightly waves the syringe filled with Benadryl in the air. Kelly leans to the side as Brett shuffles in closer. “Hey sweetie. I’m gonna give you a shot of Benadryl to help with the nausea. Just a quick pinch.” Brett tells you, not giving you time to process or freak out before jabbing the needle in and pushing the plunger. Brett places the sick bags in Kelly’s pocket before standing and leaving the room.

Kelly kisses the shoulder that Brett just gave you the shot in before rubbing the area lightly. “That should help babe. Just give it some time to work.” Kelly whispers, hating that you are now breathing a bit faster and still letting out gags every now and then. He knows you hate needles, but he gave the consent in order for you to feel a bit better soon. “Let’s just sit and breathe for a few minutes. No need to rush to get up. You let me know when your ready. Do you wanna rinse? Matt and Brett brought you a water.” Kelly soothed, sinking into a sitting position and thanking God for Gallo and Ritter having cleaned the bathrooms a few hours ago.

You nod, slightly leaning away from the toilet and taking the water bottle from Kelly. While you put some in your mouth and swish really well, Kelly reaches up and flushes the toilet. You spit once the water settles some and then try to hand the water back to Kelly, but he begs you to take a few sips, and so you do. Though the water comes back up not long after, you finally start to feel a little steadier after a few minutes.

When Kelly starts to notice your breathing coming back to a normal rhythm, he reaches up to flush once again and kisses the side of your head. “Ready to go rinse with some mouth wash and go home? Brett gave us some sick bags if you need them in the car and Matt has all of our stuff ready to go.” Kelly asked, pulling you a bit closer into his embrace. When he feels you nod, he gives a satisfied hum before pulling you up with him and to the sinks. You’re gonna be okay. He’s going to make sure of it.

[goldensstateofgrace]

Migraines and Cuddles.

A/N: This is entirely self serving lol I wrote this while on day two of having a migraine and wanted this but i’m single and lonely lmao. 

Also I missed you guys so much! I’m really hoping some of you will send in some request so that I can get back into writing and be more active on here!! 

Summary: You wake up with a migraine and Harry takes care of you <3 

Warnings: STRAIGHT FLUFF 

Word Count: 1602 (Short fluffy fic) 

Happy reading babes, hope you enjoy!! - G<3

Masterlist | REQUESTS (always welcome) | Tell me your thoughts <33 |

It wasn’t unusual for you to get migraines, honestly, you got them quite often. More than a normal person would at least.

You’ve had them since you were little, around the age of 6 or seven. You’d come home from school with the worst headache that you’d fall asleep and your mom would have to wake you up for dinner otherwise you’d sleep right through it and into the next morning. 

They always took your energy, some days it hurt to open your eyes because the sun streaming into your room was too bright. Today was one of those days, lucky you have blackout blinds on your windows just for that reason. 

You had closed them the night before when you went to bed with a small headache after taking some ibuprofen hoping it would make it go away while you slept. 

But when you woke up this morning, you instantly felt the pain behind your right eye and knew that it was still there, only worse. 

Groaning, you slowly roll onto your back from your left side, eyes closed as your head throbs. You knew it was going to be a day spent in bed when you tried to lift your head to look at your alarm and it sent a wave of pain through your whole head. 

It was the worst when you couldn’t even lift your head an inch off your pillow without the urge to throw up. Because that happens, you always feel so nauseous and hot. You have the worst hot flashes when you have a migraine. You can never find a good medium, you’re either bundled up in blankets or you have the air on 60, the ceiling fan going and a portable fan that you have next to the bed that you use for the sound because you can’t sleep without it. 

The sheet lays haphazardly across your waist, your feet out from under it and your upper body covered but barley in your thinnest tank top. 

When you finally gain the courage you lift up and swing your feet over the edge of the bed, sitting there for a moment as nausea washes over you and your head pounds. ‘Fuck’ you groan, just sitting there hunched, your head dipped because it takes to much energy to hold up at the moment. 

Peaking an eye open, it takes a second for your vision to clear from the deep sleep you were in and to see the time that reads - 12:43pm - in bright red block numbers. 

Well that’s better than the time you slept until 3pm because you couldn’t even work up the courage to fully wake up. 

You faintly hear the front door open downstairs as you stand slowly and make your way to the ensuite bathroom in Harry and your room. You leave the light off seeing as you don’t have the blackout blinds in here, just regular folding blinds so it’s pretty bright. You squeeze your eyes shut before squinting them open just the slightest bit so you can see where you’re going and don’t trip. You quickly use the bathroom, not wanting to be up any longer than you need to  faintly hearing footsteps on the stairs heading your way. 

“Y/n, love are you awake?” You hear Harry’s voice, but not having the energy to answer. You quickly - or as quickly as you can - finish up in the bathroom before making your way back into the dark bedroom finding harry sitting on the edge of the bed looking at the tv and he must have turned on. 

He must have gone on his morning run, seeing as he’s dressed in a gray athletic tank top and black running shorts, his shoes discarded by his side of the bed. His blue hat sits backwards of his head, you watch as he looks your way when he hears your soft footsteps stop in the doorway of the bathroom. 

“Oh, love,” he says softly, already knowing by the sound of your footsteps that you’re not feeling well. “Migraine?” he asks, getting up and coming to stand in front of you. 

You start to nod, but stop wincing at the pain that flows through your head. 

“Go lay down love. I got you your favorite smoothie, it’s on your nightstand,” He says in a whisper, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss against your forehead. You lean forward and gently rest your head between his pecs and his collarbone. 

“Thank you,” you whisper into him, faintly smelling his body wash from last night's shower and his sweat. “I don’t know if i’ll be able to keep it down, but thank you, H.” 

“You’re welcome, darling,” He whispers. Harry leans his head down, puckering his lips to leave a kiss against the crown of your head as his hand comes up to gently grasp the back of your nape and massages ever so slightly. 

Groaning, you whisper so quietly he probably didn’t even hear you, “That feels nice.” 

“Go lay down, love. I’m gonna grab a quick shower then I'll come lay with you and we can cuddle.” He tells you. 

Pulling away, you give him a small smile, one that he returns before you slowly get back in bed and pull the sheet back over your bottom half, kicking it off your feet as you find the perfect position for your head that doesn’t hurt and make you feel too nauseous. 

Closing your eyes, you listen to the low murmur of the people on tv and the hiss of the shower turning on. 

You didn’t even realize, but you must have drifted off because you wake up to slight movement from the edge of the bed. Harry sits there in only a pair of black boxers, his hair damp and shaggy - like he towel dried it and shook his head afterwards. 

He smiles down at you softly when you peek your eyes open ever so slightly, “I’ve got you some medicine, darling.” He tells you, holding out his hand to show you the two little white pills. 

Ever so slowly, you get your arms beneath you and gently push yourself up into a sitting position, “Thank you, H.” You mutter, taking a moment before you take the medicine from his palm, going to reach for your strawberry smoothie but wince when your head throbs from turning it. 

Harry grabs it off the nightstand, holding the straw as he brings it to your lips and helps you take a small sip to make sure you can keep it down before you nod and he holds it back up and you take a bigger drink, popping the medicine in your mouth and swallowing. 

“Good job, darling,” Harry says with a smile. He sets the drink back on the nightstand before getting up and making his way around the bed and getting in, taking care to do it slowly so as to not jostle your body. 

You watch as he half lays down, his shoulders propped up on his pillows against the headboard before he holds out the arm closest to you, urging you to come lay with him. Which you do, gently setting your head on the part of his chest between his pec and shoulder. 

“I’m sorry you don’t feel good, love,” Harry murmurs, leaning down to plant a kiss against your head as his arm wraps around the back of your neck gently and his fingers graze over your forehead. 

You love it when he does this, it feels so good and it’s also a distraction. Your mom used to do it when you were a kid, putting you to sleep. It brings back good memories and makes you feel good. 

“Love you, H.” You tell him, wanting him to know just how much you love and appreciate him and how he takes care of you with such gentleness. 

“Not as much as I love you, darling.” He replies, his fingers gently making their way from your forehead into your hair and rubbing softly to try and ease the ache. 

You stay like that for hours, his fingers in your hair, falling in and out of sleep. The low murmur of the tv in the background. You wake up around 4pm, no longer using Harry as a pillow but actually sharing one with Harry. Face to face, you share the pillow, the sheet pulled up around both of you. Harry has his hand cupping your cheek softly, his thumb resting against your cheekbone like he fell asleep gently stroking your cheek and watching you sleep. 

You smile gently, watching his sleeping form. He looks so peaceful. His face is soft and swollen with sleep. 

You feel slightly better, the migraine is no longer right behind your eye but a dull ache at the base of your skull. 

Moving just slightly, you try and sit up trying not to wake Harry but fail when he jerks awake, his eyes blinking trying to clear his sleep-ridden vision, “what’s wrong?” He asks you in a deep voice filled with sleep. 

“Nothing, go back to sleep, H. Just getting up to use the bathroom,” You tell him softly. 

He looks up with sleepy swollen eyes, “feeling better, love?” 

“Yes,” you tell him. “Much better thanks to you.” 

Harry smiles sleepily, burrowing his face deeper into the pillow before murmuring, “just doing my job, darling.” 

Your heart smiles wide at that, a warm feeling moving through you. 

You got so lucky with him. You’d never take him for granted. 

You can confidently say, Harry Styles is the love of your life and you’ve never been more happy..

I have a taglist ( you can fill it out here) 

@niallslove @randomwriter1021 @marlananicole17 @whoreforthecullens @hc-geralt-23 @afuckenslutforharrybro @writingintheroses @wiiildflowerrr @thisismynerdyself @hufflepuffhaze @lonelyheart5 @xoxokiaraaxoxo @kenzie-kay2-blog @yvngmari @myfavfanficsever @onlyangel-k @cuddleluv @Sophiawithanph @lovegiven @theshyspy @ready-4-fanfiction @michellekstyles @swiftmendeshoran @malwtilda @amayatheowl @lukesaprince @thesadstoryofme @watchyourbluesturngolden @reveriehs

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Comfort

If you have the time for it, can I have a fluffy story with Eddie just comforting and taking care of his girlfriend with migraines? I got one during my shift today and it ended up making my vision fuzzy for a bit too. Just want some Eddie comfort 😞

Request by @yearwalker96😘 I hope you feel better 💖

Warnings; mentions of being sick, fluffy Eddie content.

💞

From the minute she woke up her head was pounding. Everything was fuzzy, the sunlight made her wince and squeeze her eyes shut.

She hated migraines. It's not like she could just roll back over and go to sleep, she had cheer practice today and it was date night after Hellfire for her and her boyfriend Eddie

Speaking of Eddie, his arms were wrapped around her waist and she was snuggled into his chest as he snored lightly.

Hmm, it was only six am, maybe she could lie down and have a cat nap, it would help her feel better. Well... hopefully.

Eddie pulls her closer and she burrows back into his chest and is out like a light in seconds.

Eddie's soft voice is the first thing she hears as she struggles to open her eyes.

"Princess? Are you okay? It's nearly seven thirty" shit she slept that long? She shoots up her eyes wide and he kisses her shoulder.

"I'm fine babe, I just needed the sleep" she assures him because he will get very worried and overprotective if she even hints at feeling shitty.

With that said she gets up and fights the dizziness that the simple task had caused.

It was okay, she could do this. She gets dressed, has a big glass of water and a painkiller, and hopes that the migraine goes away.

Eddie keeps an eye on her, she can tell he isn't buying her insistence that she's okay.

Hopefully soon she will be.

💖

There wasn't any luck on that. She had gone through an intense cheer practice where all the motions and practicing the routine made her feel nauseous.

Chrissy noticed she had been feeling shitty and was really sweet. They had to get this routine down though so she ignored the pounding in her head and the sickness.

As soon as practice was over Chrissy ordered her to go to the nurse. Dutifully she headed back inside the school and ran right into Eddie and Dustin who were discussing Hellfire tactics.

Smiling she kisses his cheek and ruffles Dustins hair.

By the time she gets to the nurse, she is shaky and the nausea overwhelms her as she is violently sick.

Mrs Daniels immediately fusses over her and sends her home. Thankfully she is able to call her grandmother who picks her up and at seeing how awful she looks is extremely anxious.

"Honey, you should have stayed off school, you shouldn't have gone in like this"

"Cheer practice, Eddie" she moans and her grandmother smiles.

"Honey, that handsome boy of yours will no doubt be around mine the minute he hears you're sick"

She smiles at that thought and in fact about ten minutes after she is inside, she hears the telltale screech of his tires and he bursts through the door looking panicked.

"Sweetheart? Mike told me he saw you going home from school, then Chrissy told me and Gareth you were sick at practice" he fusses over her and she cuddles into him immediately soothed by his presence.

The smell of his cologne- Old Spice never failed to make her relax or feel like she was home.

"I had a bad migraine, still do and the pain made me sick in the nurse's office" he kisses her forehead.

"We could have stayed in bed, I would have looked after you. Made you soup, extra cuddles for my princess"

Her grandmother smiles at the two of them as she sips her tea.

She feels a bit teary, she hates being sick, and feeling like shit on top of that was worse.

"I had cheer practice, you have Hellfire and it's date night"

His eyes widen and he wipes her tears away.

"Don't cry baby, I rescheduled Hellfire for Monday, my girl is sick so I am looking after you, we can have date night tomorrow, now bed" he orders.

She obliges and her grandmother tells them she will bring up some cookies and juice.

Eddie wastes no time tucking her up in bed, he lays beside her and gently massages her sore head. The pain has dulled slightly but it's Eddie's massages that help the most.

"It's okay sweetheart. I'll chase the big bad migraine away" he presses a kiss to her hair.

He fluffs up her pillow, gets extra blankets, and generally fusses over her.

"I'll be fine Eddie, the pain is easing a little" he still looks panicked.

"You're sick and I feel helpless because I'm supposed to chase away the bad things, monsters, assholes who try and hit on you, assholes who don't speak nicely to you... Carver but I can't do that with this"

She squeezes his hand.

"You're helping. Those amazing head massages for one thing but then I've always known you have magic fingers" he looks extremely proud at this and holds her close.

"Just you being here giving me lots of Eddie cuddles is helping" this relaxes him and he settles with her and is an absolute sweetheart attending to her every need.

The next morning thanks to the attentive actions of Eddie and a good night's sleep the migraine was thankfully gone.

💖

[plotting-against-you]

Pain in the Neck

Fandom: One Chicago

Characters: Jay Halstead, Will Halstead, Ellie Halstead, Greg "Mouse" Gerwitz, Connor Rhodes

Summary: Ellie gets a nasty migraine, causing her to end up at Med.

A/N: Based on a prompt sent to me by @chrisevansdaughter. Not exactly what you asked for but I hope you like it just as well.

Warnings: Vomiting (not graphic), symptoms of migraine

Ellie sighed as she looked out the window of her private jet and watched her hometown come into view. It was something she was grateful for as the stiffness in her neck was starting to intensify and she just wanted to get off the plane and back into her own apartment.

It had been several weeks, months even, for this last chunk of her tour and now the whole crew were headed home for a two month break between tour locations. Though Ellie loved her fans and the tour experience they were all having, she couldn’t wait to be home with her family and friends for a while.

She looked up as the pilot put the seatbelts sign on for their landing and closed her eyes. Once she got home, she’d feel better.

…

The blonde groaned as she laid on the couch listening to her texts come through. Her neck had not gotten better when she got home. In fact, it had worsened into what she now knew was a gradually forming migraine.

She hated being sick, especially at times like this. Though she knew she was on break and could manage a few days of illness, there was something else entirely she couldn’t handle. Just as the thought crossed her mind, her phone rang, making her groan again.

“What?”

“So that’s how you answer the phone now?”

She rolled her eyes at Jay’s response, but winced as it shot tendrils of pain through her skull. “Sorry, tired.”

He was silent for a second. “You okay?”

Ellie sighed. This was why she couldn’t afford to get sick. She had two overbearing older brothers breathing down her painfully stiff neck.

Before she could answer, however, the phone was pulled from her hands and she was lowered into a horizontal position. “Dude, she’s got a migraine, leave her be.”

Ellie smiled as her husband pulled the throw blanket up over her shoulders and kissed her forehead, all while hanging up on her brother. He knew she loved them, but also knew she hated how badly overprotective they were. She had pointed out on numerous occasions that he was the same way, but he simply shushed her by pointing out that he was her husband and it was his job.

…

A few hours later, Ellie blinked and realized she had fallen asleep. Then she realized something was wrong. She squeezed her eyes shut again and breathed deeply, trying to stave off the nausea that had come on very suddenly.

She felt the couch dip and a hand run itself through her messy tendrils of hair before landing on her forehead. “No.”

Mouse sighed. “Babe…”

Without warning, Ellie jumped from the couch. Mouse immediately stood to steady her and then she was running for the bathroom. He winced as she threw up for several minutes then crouched as she leaned back against him.

“You do not tell them about this.”

Here he winced again, an apologetic look in his eyes. “They’re already on their way over.”

Her eyes looked beyond betrayed. “What?”

He nodded. “Will called Jay to ask why we weren’t answering and Jay told him about your migraine. They know how bad those can get for you and he wants to check on you.”

She groaned. “No…”

“Hey, they haven’t seen you in months. They’re worried. You can’t blame them for that.”

Sighing, the blonde nodded. “I suppose. Take me back to the couch? I think I can take more medicine now.”

‘At least then maybe I’ll sleep through their visit.’ She thought to herself.

…

Ellie whimpered as she listened to the quiet voices at her front door. She adjusted the ice pack that was behind her neck and understood that she’d have to be awake for Will’s medical check of her and her head, which had gotten increasingly worse since she woke up. Her medicine wasn’t working, the lights were piercing her skull as if they were an icepick, and the ice, which was usually her saving grace, was making everything worse.

She knew what the boys would say but had no intention of listening.

She was an international superstar, after all. There was no way she could be seen in the hospital. The media, and her well-meaning fans, would go insane and that was the last thing she or her crew needed.

The minute he laid his eyes on her, Will sighed. “Ellie…”

“No.”

He crouched and ran his hand over her forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“It’s just a migraine. I need sleep and then I’ll be fine.”

Jay snorted. “Have you seen yourself? I’m surprised you’re even stringing words together at this point.”

She tried to glare at Jay out of sibling instinct, but immediately cried out at the pain that and pressure that rushed her brain. Because of this, she missed the look that went between the three most important men in her life. She also missed Will moving out of the way and Jay picking up his phone as Mouse grabbed a blanket to drape over her.

“Sorry, babe.” Mouse whispered as he lifted her up. “Choice is out of your hands now.”

“But…”

“Jay’s got security downstairs and he’s got Hailey calling Tree to get ahead of the media. Just breathe and focus on pushing that pain away.” Will said softly as they hurried out the door.

‘I guess I’m headed to Med anyway.” Ellie sighed and let her eyes slip shut.

…

The next time she opened her eyes, she was aware that the lights her dimmed and a beeping noise was coming from her left. Realizing she had probably passed out from the pain, she squeezed Mouse’s hand, which was tightly held in her own, and sighed.

“Well, this sucks.”

A laugh came from next to her and she glared up at Connor. “Hey. You’re not supposed to laugh at your patients.”

He nodded. “For you, I’ll make an exception. Welcome back.”

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again.” Mouse told her.

Ellie nodded. “I’m sorry. What’s the verdict?”

“A migraine.”

Ellie blinked at her friend. “That’s it? I could have told you that!”

“See how you’re feeling better? That’s thanks to us. You needed heavier meds than your regular stuff this time. It’s a good thing they brought you in when they did, or you’d have probably had to come by ambulance.”

Ellie shuddered at the thought. “Definitely not how I want to make an entrance.”

“No, I’m guessing that would be by janitor’s cart.” Connor quipped.

“Will you be quiet? No one knows about that for sure.” She hissed.

This time, Jay laughed from the corner. “El, everyone knows about that.”

She winced again, though this time it was from being caught. “Yeah, I guess you’re probably right about that.”

Though she hated to admit it, she was lucky. Between her husband, her brothers, and her friend, she was able to get the help she needed and though she was sure it was all over the internet by now, all she cared about was that the pounding in her skull was gone. If it hadn’t been for their hounding and overprotectiveness, it could have been worse and she was grateful it hadn’t gotten that far.

“Thanks, Connor.”

She watched as he left and then turned to the other three men. “So, when can we go home?”

Rolling his eyes, Will smiled. “Do you guys really hate the hospital that much?”

“Yes.” She and Jay answered together.

“Fine, fine. I’ll get you those discharge papers from Connor or Maggie.” As he walked out he ducked back inside the room. “And maybe a janitor’s cart to get you out of here as well.”

“Shut up!” She laughed and shook her head.

Even when she was sick, she could count on her brothers to make fun of her. That, at least, made her feel normal for the first time since being home.

[courtneygacha]

My first Sickfic???

Tw: Headache, head injury?, collapse, soft caretaking, Whumpee and Caretaker

Whumpee stumbled into the doorway of their apartment. It was slightly messy, just as always. But they did not have the motivation to clean it. They were so exhausted from work and felt like shit.

Everything on their body was sore. They were freezing and shaking, but at the same time, burning up. Their head throbbed and the room felt like it was spinning. All they wanted was to get into their nice soft bed, and sleep forever.

But they couldn’t have that. Not yet at least. Whumpee promised Caretaker they could come over today after work and hang out with them, but they did not feel like socializing right now.

They knew they were sick. They knew they were sick when they woke up with a sore throat on the first day. It’s gotten worse over the past week. Whumpee was assuming they had the flu but didn’t have the money to go get that confirmed. They could barely afford rent right now, so they did not want waste 64$ on a check-up.No matter how much they knew it would help them.

They’ve just been taking Tylenol and Motrin before work everyday. They proceeded to do that right as there was a knock on their door.

“Hey Caretaker, sorry about the mess… I did just kind of just get off work.” Whumpee said when they opened the door.

“Oh, I’m sorry for coming over so early then… I can help you clean up!” They offered.

Whumpee’s body felt a little less heavy as they rested on their sofa. “No no, it’s okay… I’ll clean it when I’m feeling better.”

“Oh.” Caretaker said, sitting next to them. Their voice sounded a little concerned. “Are you not feeling well?”

“I’m just tired from work, that’s all.” They said. That of course wasn’t all, but Caretaker had came over to hang out and have fun, not worry about their health like they always did.

“Again, sorry for coming over so fast, I just haven’t seen you in a while… I’ve been busy and I know you have too.” Caretaker nudged themselves closer to Whumpee.

They were rubbing their temples. What started out as a small ache in their head now turned into what felt like a migraine. “Mmmhmm…” Whumpee hummed.

Caretaker tilted their head slightly. “Whumpee honey, are you sure you’re okay?”

They’re getting concerned again…

They stopped and said, “Yeah, yes. I’m okay Caretaker. I’ll go make us tea.”

Caretaker watched with doubt as Whumpee stood up. They managed to walk as though they were completely fine to their little kitchen, but once they turned the corner, they laid their head on the counter.

I can’t do this right now… Whumpee thought. Waves of nausea rolled over them as their head felt like it was splitting open. They tried to stand back up but hit their head on a cabinet and groaned loudly. They saw fuzzy black spots in their vision.

“You okay?” Caretaker called out.

“M’ fine!” Whumpee said back.

This is fine, everything’s fine, we’re not sick… we’re just dramatic…

Whumpee pushed themselves up again, this time not hitting their head, and opened the cabinet above them. Thankfully, it was the medicine cabinet. They pulled out two more pills and downed them without water.

Moving over a few inches, still grasping onto the counter for support, they opened a door and reached for two mugs. Or at least, tried to. Their depth perception was totally off and they were seeing double. They groped around for the handle of one of the mugs but felt nothing.

“I have to get on the counter ugh…” Whumpee muttered to themselves.

They counted to three, pushed up, and smacked their forehead on a shelf. Losing their balance, their arms gave out and they crumpled onto the ground, seeing stars.

“Whumpee?” Caretaker said from the living room, “Are you okay?”

There was a soft groan as a response. Caretaker got up from the couch to go check on them. They were abruptly met with the upsetting sight of Whumpee laying semi-conscious on the floor with a mark on their forehead.

“Whumpee?!” They said, hurrying over to their side. “Are you okay? What happened?”

Whumpee hummed a single, low note as their answer. Caretaker rubbed their head where the mark was and felt their hot skin. They laid their whole hand across it and felt Whumpee lean into their cooling touch. They were burning up.

“Oh honey, how long have you been like this?” Caretaker said, as they pulled Whumpee’s head into their lap. They whispered, “A week…” before falling asleep.

“Oh god Whumpee… why didn’t you tell me?” Caretaker gently picked Whumpee up. “Don’t worry,” they sighed, “I’ll take care of you, dear.”

***

Whumpee woke up a while later, snuggled up in their bed. There was a comforting coldness on their head where a wet rag Caretaker had placed was there. Their eyes were still drowsy when they looked around the room. Everything was clean. Caretaker must’ve picked up for them. Whumpee let out a soft noise when they entered the room.

“Oh Whumpee, you’re awake.” Caretaker said, laying a little tray on the nightstand next to them. “How are you feeling?”

“F-Fine…” Whumpee replied. Their voice was dry and raspy.

“Here, drink some water. I also got medicine for you to take…” They helped Whumpee drink by holding the glass to their lips.

“You didn’t have to clean up for me, Caretaker…” Whumpee said quietly.

“Well, you certainly weren’t going to do it in your state.” They said.

“T-Thank you…” Whumpee whispered. Their sleepiness was pulling them under.

“Can I get you anything, honey?” Caretaker asked.

Whumpee wanted to do what they had initially come over for. They nudged their head to their right and Caretaker laid next to them in bed, their arm around Whumpee’s chest. They listened to the other softly snore as they both fell asleep.

[judgementdaysunshine]

Sick together

Pairing:Sam Hanna x reader

Description:You and Sam spend the day in together while sick

You knew that you were sick as soon as you opened your eyes laying in bed with an unbearable migraine coughing until you had to run to the bathroom getting sick while sam woke up sweating and sneezing after hearing your footsteps.He got up going in the bathroom seeing you hunched over the toilet throwing up using one hand to keep hair out of your face and the other to rub calmly up and down your back until you stayed still for a few minutes handing sam a roll of toilet paper for his nose "Thanks babe" you giggle as he blows his nose while you take deep breaths to combat the nausea you felt all over.After 10 minutes you both take meds and shower together while your bedsheets are being washed sam putting a new set on your bed while finished drying off getting in one of his shirts and shorts while he just puts a bair of boxers on both of you getting under the covers just holding each other for awhile then you both eat soup and watch tv until you slowly fall asleep on sam's chest with him falling asleep not to long after you had holding you tightly to him until you both wake up 3 hours later seeing that you both felt about the same as earlier waiting for a bit to take more meds and eat dinner.You both eat more soup later on after sam's partner G called asking how both of you were knowing that you both hadn't been well the whole day talking to him for a few hours until you were dozing off at the table feeling less congested and nauseous than half the day before and sam no longer coughing or sneezing loudly deciding to go to bed after awhile of talking and watching tv slowly falling asleep with your back to his chest gently rubbing your hip until you both fell asleep in his arms.

[stardustloki]

The electronics scream

'01 has a migraine. He knows they'll decommission him if they discover how bad his defect has become. But the pain. won't. stop.

(A Hunter-centric ficlet featuring the bad batch as cadets).

Read it below the cut or on ao3 here

CT-9901 felt sure that he was going to throw up, the all consuming pain in his head worse than anything he’d ever experienced before. A small part of him thought that he always said that about the pulsing, dizzying agony, but he supposed it didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was lying still and tense in his bunk, his face pressed tight into the pillow to block out the light and different smells that radiated from all around the room and further afield. His hands were pushed tightly to his ears, but that did little to prevent the wave of pain and accompanying nausea every time someone so much as twitched in their sleep.

He didn’t dare move, didn’t dare open his eyes even with the pale light of the sleep cycle, knew that these would make everything worse.

The hum of the electrics was overwhelming, his brothers' breathing unbearable, and '01 wanted to sob, but didn’t dare make a sound. The Kaminoans might already be watching him through the cameras, might already know about how badly his defects were affecting him. He’d made the mistake of mentioning that his head hurt sometimes during one of their many lab sessions. In response, the Kaminoan with Nale Se had turned to her and noted that ‘01 might not be worth training with the others for much longer if his enhancements were going to be a hindrance in the field. It might be better if they kept him in the lab to discover how to improve any future enhanced clones. Then they could recycle him.

01 shook, feeling his breath come quicker, as pain spiked through his head and his stomach rolled. He shouldn’t be acting like this, he should be calming down, trying to sleep, he knew the more he worried the worse the pain got, but he didn’t know how to stop.

When they had to leave for training in the morning, he wouldn’t be able to move, wouldn’t be able to so much as open his eyes, and then they would take him away. He’d never see ‘02, ‘03, and ‘04 again.

He could sense the vibrations from a shuffling gait several hallways away. He wanted to scream at ‘99 to stop, to walk somewhere else. His steps came closer and closer, and when they entered the hallway outside ‘01 felt just about ready to explode. How dare he? How dare he come and make the pain worse? Why couldn’t he leave them alone?

The swish of the door opening was how he imagined a blaster bolt through the skull might feel. 99’s clanging footsteps approached his bunk and his arms reached out, turning him over and into a sitting position. Eyes screwed shut against the light, and stomach rolling, ‘01 clasped his hands to his mouth. He couldn’t be sick, he couldn’t, the Kaminoans would find out that he was defective, the Kaminoans would find out that he was defective and-

Something blessedly cool was fastened around his forehead and tied at the back. A canteen was pressed to his lips, it contained something that smelled overwhelmingly of painkillers, and ‘01 drank it greedily, despite how wobbly his stomach felt. Then, even though his heartbeat felt like a concussive blast, he allowed himself to relax into 99’s embrace, allowed himself to imagine that, even though he was defective, his older brother would make sure everything was okay.

When '02 woke him the next morning, ‘99 was gone, but the strip of fabric, cold packs fastened underneath, remained, and there was another canteen with painkillers next to his pillow.

Feeling dizzy, head still aching, though not in the all-consuming way it had done several hours earlier, ‘01 took the painkillers before stuffing both the canteen and the bandana under his pillow. He dressed with his eyes closed, stumbling through his routine. He could tell that the others were trying to be quiet, despite the fact that '02's steps rang in his ears, and he let himself smile slightly. He'd miss them all, if he got taken away.

When they were due to leave, '02 and '03 took both of his arms to guide him through the blindingly bright hallways, helping him keep steady. '04, with his sharp eyes, took the lead, making sure to warn them with a snap of his fingers any time someone dangerous approached.

As they entered their first simulation, ‘01 almost allowed himself to relax. Maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t be decommissioned today.

[eva-knits12]

Steve Rogers takes care of you when you have a migraine.

Trigger warning: migraines, Steve Rogers, puking, fluff

Summary: You have a migraine, and your boyfriend Steve Rogers takes care of you.

I suffer from sinus induced migraines, and trust me, these are no picnic. They're pretty ugly, and I wouldn't wish these on anyone. I woke up with one today, and could have used some Steve Rogers. I don't suffer from sensitivity to light, but I get the pain, the nausea, the puking, on top of being plugged up. It feels like someone is squeezing my head while pounding a jackhammer in my head at the same time. I've almost wound up in the emergency room a few times because of them.

I wake up in pain. I look at the clock, and the time is 2:00 a.m. Steve is sleeping peacefully next to me. I try to go back to sleep, but the pain feels like too much to bear right now.

I get up, and take my sinus pill, hoping that it will help relieve some of the pain. I try to get some sleep, but an hour later, the nausea has kicked in. I try to go back to sleep again, willing the nausea to subside. Twenty minutes later, I run to the bathroom, and spill my guts into the toilet.

Steve rolls over to put my head on his chest, and instead sees my side of the bed with the covers thrown down. He sees the bathroom light on with my head in the toilet. Steve kneels down, and starts to run soothing circles on my back.

"Oh, doll, why didn't you tell me you were sick," says Steve, while still rubbing my back, and using his other hand to pull my hair back.

"Sorry, Steve. Migraine," I say. Steve is making a compress from a wash cloth, and I sit back against the tub. Steve sits next to me, and puts the compress on my forehead. It feels cool.

After I'm sure that I won't throw up right now, Steve picks me up, and carries me bridal style back to the bed. He places a garbage can next to me.

"Oh, doll, you must be really sick," says Steve sympathetically.

"It's a sinus induced mig-RALPH!" I throw up again. Steve is holding my hair back, while I'm holding onto the garbage can.

I finish throwing up for what seems to be the third time this morning. The cyclical vomiting will only get worse. I throw up again. Steve goes and makes another compress, and brings me a ginger ale, because that will help settle my stomach right now.

Steve kisses me on the forehead, then places the cool compress on my forehead.

"Here, doll. Take a sip of this," Steve says, giving me the glass. I take a sip, and the bubbles tickly my nose.

I take another sip, and then another sip. Eventually, I finish the glass. I go back to sleep, and my stomach doesn't feel like it's doing back flips right now.

I sleep for a bit, and Steve goes to check on me before he goes to work. He's discussing his latest mission with Nick Fury, and Jarvis has informed Tony that I would not be coming into work today.

"Tony, Miss (y/l/n) is not coming into work today." Jarvis informed Tony at 3:20 a.m. when my puking started.

"Does she have the stomach flu, Jarvis? Because if she does, I need every surface she came into contact with disinfected," says Tony.

"No, Mr. Stark. Miss (y/l/n) has the symptoms of a migraine. It's a sinus induced migraine, Mr. Stark. She can't come in today," says Jarvis.

"Alright, inform Kelly, Dr. Banner's assistant, that she'll need to fill in. She's also trained in Miss (y/l/n) job," says Tony.

"Miss (y/l/n), I have already informed your doctor, Dr. (y/d/n) about your condition. She is calling the pharmacy right away. Your migraine medication will be delivered this morning, shortly after the pharmacy opens", says Jarvis.

I sleep a little longer, then I run to the bathroom, and throw up again. When I finish, I sit there for a while, then throw up again. When I feel like I can, I get up, brush my teeth, wash my face, and gather my pajamas, and shower for the day.

I go back to bed, and Steve has finished with his meeting. He's in the kitchen fixing me some tea and toast, when he hears a knock on the door.

"Here's Miss (y/f/n) (y/l/n) prescription from Dr. (y/d/n). Don't worry about the cost, Captain Rogers. Tony Stark will cover the cost," says the delivery person.

"Thank you, Jimmy," says Steve.

Steve prepares a glass of water, and gives you your medication. You take the medicine and then go back to sleep.

Steve lies next to you, reading his book. He looks over at you, and kisses you on the forehead again.

I wake up after a while with my stomach growling. I'm not nauseous, and Steve sees.

"Are you feeling better, doll?", asks Steve.

"A little. I'm starting to get hungry", you say.

Steve gets up, flips on the TV for you, and gives you your knitting back. You pick up the keyhole scarf you're working on, and knit for a bit while Steve makes you some chicken soup, and fixes you some saltines.

He opens the cupboard and sees the chicken soup. It's WAY different than the Campbell's condensed version. He grabs a pot, and opens and pours it in, then turns on the stove. He was amazed when you showed him this culinary revolution. All you did was just pour the soup in a pot, and let it simmer, while you stirred occasionally.

Steve gets a tray, and gets a bowl. He ladles some of the soup in the bowl, and puts some of the saltines on a small plate on the tray. He fixes you a glass of the ginger ale.

Steve feeds you everything, and you take another pill. You fall asleep again, and Steve gets an idea. He pulls out all of the ingredients to make you his favorite cake, chiffon cake. He remembered get the vegetable oil, and he goes to work making the cake. He pulls up the recipe on your laptop, and follows it.

Several hours later, you wake up, and decide to wash your face, and shower for a while. You shower, and feel a little more human right now. You still look awful, but you're not covered in grime, and your nausea is subsiding right now.

You get out, and walk to the kitchen. You smell something yummy.

"Steve, what in the world are you baking?" you ask, while Steve grabs you lovingly around your stomach.

"Shh, it won't be a surprise, doll", says Steve, giving you a deep and loving kiss. "You're already looking better," says Steve.

You also see that Steve is getting ready to make you some pasta and some meat sauce, with some garlic bread and some salad. Steve has been taking care of you all day, and you love him even more for this.

"I'm feeling much better," you say. "I'm not puking every twenty minutes because the pain is too much," you say.

"I love taking care of you, doll. You take care of so many people, and never ask for anything in return, you need to be pampered every once in a while," says Steve.

You feel grateful that Steve is taking care of you, even though you're sick. Steve is right, you take care of everyone else, that it's time that someone took care of you.

Steve checks on his cake, and it's done. He sets in on the rack to cool completely before icing it. He then picks you up bridal style and carries you to the couch, seating you on the couch. He hands you your book, and you read while Steve is preparing dinner. He kisses you on the forehead again.

You and Steve talk and eat dinner. It felt more like a date than a typical night for the both of you where one of you would fix dinner, and then talk, and then read and go to bed. You both felt like you were in a rut of sorts, and Tony often worked you too hard at times, but you were his receptionist. He was also training you in tech and communications so that you could take more of a role on missions. You didn't have a degree in computers, you had a BA in theatre. You told Steve that's why you moved to New York, but couldn't get past the first audition, and at the time, you were working as a waitress. If it hadn't been for Tony seeing how not only your co-workers were treating you, but also your boss, you never would be working for Stark Industries close to Tony Stark, making your brother and your cousin envious of your position. You were Tony's receptionist and also his and Pepper's assistant. You felt more like Tony's little sister at times rather than a colleague.

"I still remember the day I ran into you. You had a ton of papers in your hand, and not paying attention to where you were going. You were trying to keep them in order. I hadn't been out of the ice for very long, so I was still trying to navigate around the tower, and trying to find my place in the world. I felt like that skinny kid from Brooklyn who nobody even gave a second glance to. I could tell you were special from that day," says Steve, as he squeezes your hand, then kisses it.

"Steve, I love you so much. You helped me pick up those papers, even though you looked overwhelmed trying to navigate a new world in a new place," you say.

Steve kisses you lovingly again, and this time, you both dance in the kitchen for a while.

After a while, you yawn, and Steve picks you up bridal style, and carries you to the bathroom. You relieve yourself, wash your hands, and brush your teeth.

Steve brushes his teeth next to you, and kisses you again. He picks you up bridal style and carries you to the bed. Steve turns on the TV, and you both watch a rerun of Star Trek before you both fall asleep in each other's arms.

"Good night, doll," says Steve, kissing you on your forehead.

"Good night, Captain Handsome," you say.

You and Steve just spend time together, and felt like you had gotten out of your rut in a lot of ways, and you felt a spark again that hadn't been there in a while. You and Steve had only been together for ten months, but at times it felt like you had both felt as if you've been married for a long time.

You return to work on Monday, seeing as how it's a weekend, and Tony and Pepper took the weekend to go leaving and antiquing upstate. Tony and Pepper decided to give you a break for the weekend.

Steve was your nurse throughout the entire day today.

You need to be sick more often.

[hopalongfairywren]

Whumptober2022- Delirium Tremendous

Schlatt was used to waking up hungover, with a migraine and a stomach ache, but this was an entirely different brand of hell. He woke up 15 minutes ago and got ready to eat, and usually that would be fine.

 His hangover induced pain went away on its own or with his pain medication. But this didn’t go away, nor did it respond to his fast acting pain medication. Schlate vaguely remembered last night’s events; yelling at Quackity, throwing something, the avian storming off after they exchanged a few insults, and going down to the local bar to drink away his anger. 

Quackity was always like that. Too sensitive, too annoying, too loud, but at least he wasn’t as sore on the eyes as he was sore on Schlatt’s temper. And with him, Schlatt was president of Manberg.

He contemplated going to look for his husband before Quackity did some dumb shit, already imagining his dramatic ass tearing up and yelling despite his voice being hoarse, smelling the whiskey on Schlatt’s breathe and crying more like the over emotional idiot he was.

 But there were more pressing matters on Schlatt’s hands now, mainly the fact that his stomach felt like killing him.

Schlatt’s whole stomach cramps, and he slides to the floor groaning  and clutching his stomach. Waves of dull pain ripple throughout his belly.

The twisting, sharp pain originated deep within his gut and traveled up towards his chest, until Schlatt had to actively keep his mouth closed to prevent himself from puking up his dinner all over himself.

 The smell of his previously okay food was now noxious, and the site was entirely unappetizing. He looked away, eyes watering.

He could feel Ponk’s disapproving gaze boring holes into his skull, lecturing him on alcohol, explaining how his liver and brain were being irreparably damaged by his drinking and that sort of shit, and that mental image gave Schlatt enough energy to scowl and push himself into a standing position.

It was almost comical how he immediately fell back down again as a wave of nausea rolled over him violently, causing his whole body to shake and twist. His legs trembled, feeling inoperable as he rolled over with another grunt.

Schlatt wretched as vomit dribbled out of his open mouth, its painfully acidic taste reminding him of the vodka he had drunk hours ago. He staggers up, retching all the while, trying to get to the bathroom before he vomited.

He didn't make it very far before he doubled over, clutching at his chest as more bile followed, leaving a disgusting stain on the fine velvety carpets below him.

“Fuck…” He muttered, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. For once he was glad Quackity wasn’t here for a reason besides the bitching he’d be subjected to. Schlatt would die before letting Quackity see him like this, and Quackity is stuck waiting for him to die. They both know it. Schlatt’s honestly surprised Quackity hasn’t attempted to assassinate him yet, but it showed what a few compliments a starry-eyed young guy could do. Schlatt cursed again as he gagged, his stomach empty now.

“Or maybe it wasn’t surprising” He thought as the second round of gagging came, because vomiting always happened in two spasms like that.

Quackity had always been a pussy, so of course he was never going to outright stab his husband. Maybe poisoning? His thought drifted to Niki, before quickly shutting down that possibility. That woman wasn’t allowed near his residence, let alone his foodstuff. She was harmless, weak. 

Other possibilities flashed around in Schlatt’s mind, but they played second fiddle to his vomiting. Ponk would be stupid to eliminate his highest paying customer. Fundy maybe, but he had gotten that kid wrapped around his finger just by not being Wilbur.

Or maybe it was Tubbo. Tubbo, the meek little sheep-hybrid that always looked down at the ground when talking to Schlatt, and always responded with a too vigorous “Sir yes Sir!”

Schlatt panted as he finished heaving, promising to fire and possibly execute whoever is in charge of preparing his food, because this was obviously not prepared well. He hoped it wasn’t Tubbo, he already planned a whole festival to execute that fucker and make him an example, but this was such a bad stomach ache and Schlatt was already in such a bad mood he considered beating him on site.

[alihightowers]

@unfuckerable

thanks for checking this out for me💕

Rhaenyra started keeping journals when she was 8 years old.  

When mild instances of disassociation manifested into full blackouts, leaving her out of touch with reality until she found her way back to the present, she would often lose time, wake with dizzying migraines that brought on crippling nausea and disorientation. 

And there were times, during the more severe blackouts, when she would become confused, certain memories wiped clean from her mind. Nothing but imprints left behind, the details were always grey and muddled, unreachable no matter how hard she strained to remember.  

The only way she could differentiate truth from illusion was from the phantom place holders, skeletal outlines of feeling and fleeting imagery used to fill in the emptiness. 

Still, she tried her best to bridge the gaps and repair faulty connections. 

Physically, there was nothing wrong with her. Even the results of extensive blood tests deemed her otherwise healthy. She functioned like everyone else, reached proper milestones alongside her peers and lived a relatively simple life.  

Things were normal, she was normal. Until she wasn’t. 

The problem, she would come to learn, existed within the cognitive intricacies of her brain.  

And because of its rare nature, with both a lack of consistency and little knowledge available for the fluctuating symptoms, her neurologist diagnosed her affliction as idiopathic- a band-aid term that meant there was no known cause, no textbook case they could use to provide a definitive answer.  

Thus, she was advised to keep the journals, to document her episodes, and track their progression with the hope of finding a pattern that could then be studied. 

Rhaenyra lost count of the number of MRIs she’d had over the years, became desensitized to the claustrophobia and the mechanical shudder of the machine. She no longer noticed the odd, cooling sensation of the contrast medium infiltrating her veins or flinched during necessary blood draws to monitor medication levels. 

She grew numb to the routine eventually, succumbing to the truth. 

 She couldn’t escape it. 

And she wouldn’t understand why until it was almost too late. 

~ 

July 18th, 2010 

9:45 am 

Rhaenyra doesn’t remember being admitted, but she woke up that morning with blood stains on her pillow, so it’s unclear just how long it’s been since she was. 

She doesn’t ask either, because she stopped listening to the conversation almost five minutes ago. 

The office she’s in is cozy, almost too warm, with walls thin enough to hear the beginning of a storm outside. The wind knocks against the side of the building, riling leaves free from their branches to twirl them violently in the air. She’s easily soothed by the budding chaos, and her eyelids start to grow heavy. 

Sitting cross-legged, Rhaenyra tucks a few strands of hair behind her ear that have come loose from her braid and fails to stifle the tired yawn that escapes her mouth. It makes her eyes water, false tears collecting in her waterlines before she blinks them away and continues the search of her surroundings to find what she’s been looking for.  

She scans the room three times before she finds the clock and its incessant ticking. Nearly obscured from where it hangs wedged between a tall bookcase and an overgrown house plant, the antique face stares her down. Its crooked hands taunt her, counting each second, winding down the hour.  

She wants to scream.  

Instead, her left leg begins to bounce, and she takes to twisting the ring on her middle finger back and forth below her knuckle. 

“...Does that make any sense to you?” 

Seconds roll into a minute; the ticking grows louder, deafening. 

“Rhaenyra.” 

The deep timbre of a voice catches her attention, guiding her focus. 

Dr. Alexander Bennett, the lead neurologist that has overseen her care for most of her life, studies her with kind eyes as he leans back casually in his chair. Even sitting down, he towers over her, but his posture exudes that of trust instead of intimidation. His beard has greyed over the years and the wrinkles around his eyes are more defined when he smiles. He still looks at her the same way though, like a concerned father would his daughter. 

 It usually makes her feel safe. 

“I'm not in the mood for this today.” she sighs, pulling at the threads of a tassel hanging off the throw pillow tucked against her side. 

“Listen,” he removes his glasses and sets them on the rectangular table between them, “I know you want to go home, but we need to talk about it. These blackouts you have... they’re getting worse. The latest scan showed progressive damage to both of your temporal lobes and-” 

“No. No, you don’t get it.” she cuts in, feeling the itch of fear and agitation under her skin, “I don’t have time I-” her eyes close and she takes a deep breath to center herself. Her leg bounces faster, restless, “There’s somewhere I need to be and it’s not here, so can we just-” 

“And where would that be, exactly?” Dr. Bennett’s brow furrows and Rhaenyra hates the way his tone shifts to one of concerned sympathy, “An unchangeable past? One conjured from some irrational guilt? Rhaenyra...this has gone too far.” 

His voice is so gentle, too placating that it brings her anger to a premature stop. 

Rhaenyra’s face falls before she can control it, breaking the composure she’s tried so hard to hold onto. 

 Stilling completely, she flushes, and her cheeks burn as she stares him down. Her bottom lip trembles once, jaw tense. 

“Where are my journals?” 

“We’ve been over this. Rhaenyra, please just listen.”  

“Alex, where are they?” Tears well in her eyes and she fights to keep them at bay. 

“Your mother is looking for them...” 

“And?” 

“They’re buried in storage, so it may take a while.” 

Her chest aches with trapped air as she stands and steps towards the door. 

“I can’t wait that long. I won’t-” 

The warning he hastens to give her as she leaves goes unheard. 

She can’t breathe. 

~ 

10:05am 

The rain has become a violent thing outside. Pelting against the glass panes of a window somewhere behind her, the muffled white noise makes the small room feel even more claustrophobic.  

Though it’s just past 10 in the morning, the storm has blackened the sky, and if not for the glow of a nearby desk lamp, she’d be in the dark. 

Squinting into the provided dim light, Rhaenyra sits atop a stiff mattress, hunched over as she scribbles on a wrinkled piece of paper folded over her thigh. Her nose stings with blood, remnants of it still caked inside her nostrils. The sharp, acrid taste lingering in her cheeks and the back of her teeth from swallowing it earlier commands her attention and clears her mind. 

It keeps her focused, alert.  

She can’t afford a distraction, not now. She’s running out of time. 

The easy loop of her handwriting becomes jagged, harsh lines of nearly illegible chicken-scratch the longer she writes, the more desperate she becomes. She’s rushing, wrist shaking and lead staining her fingers with every stroke of the pencil against paper. The words stream from her conscience, onto the page, then spill from her mouth as the sentences merge together. 

Go back to the beginning, remember the details.  

Gather the pieces and mend what’s been broken. 

Make it right. 

‘It’s the middle of November,’ she writes, heart pounding, ‘and it’s cold. So cold already that I can see my breath cloud in the air. The swing I stand behind creaks every time I push it, worn and rusted from age. The metal chains freeze my hands until they’re numb. My palms are red because I forgot to wear gloves that day. I want to leave, run to my mom and beg her to blast the heat on the car ride home, but I don’t. No, I stay.’ 

Rhaenyra closes her eyes for a moment, chewing the inside of her cheek raw as she grasps for the fraying end of the memory. 

Commotion erupts outside in the hall, and a pair of voices grow louder, closing in. A wave of panic races through her when the handle of the locked door begins to twist back and forth with building urgency. 

‘I stay because she’s on the swing and she’s asking me to push her higher. Her red hair blows in the wind and she’s laughing that contagious kind of laugh that makes me laugh too. My smile starts to hurt my cheeks. She tells me not to drop her and covers my hands with her gloved ones. I promise her I'll keep her safe. We just met, and she’s suspended in the air, but she trusts me to keep her from falling.’ 

A blinding pain cuts across the crown of Rhaenyra’s head, swaying her vision, and the room vibrates around her.  

“I’ll keep you safe.” she repeats aloud, voice trembling. 

“I’ll fix this.” the words, reverent with purpose, struggle to leave her tongue. 

“I promise.”  

She presses the point of the pencil deeper into the paper, etching seven letters from muscle memory, and draws three harsh lines beneath to cement them into being. 

Rhaenyra reads the name as if it holds all the answers, over and over until everything goes black. 

Alicent