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goldenempyrean · 2 years

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sick!reader x natasha where nat gets home from a month long mission and learns from their friends that reader is miserable with a cold. however the spy knows how stubborn you are and wants to see how long you can pretend you’re fine until you accept being taken care of

Everything's Gonna Be Okay

Oh damn, this was meant to be a short little fic... Well here I am 3 and a half hours after starting... Oops, ALSO! I did actually edit this, I know, Im shocked too dw. (Pls for the love of God and my sanity ignore any mistakes i've missed.)

Summary: Natasha's been away for so long. Shes finally coming home, nothing can go wrong. Only it does, of course it does.

Wordcount: 3580

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Natasha gave a much-needed sigh of relief as she finally stepped onto solid ground, she never thought she’d ever be so happy to be home again. Nat had been sent away on a long deep-undercover mission and in total she had been away for about a month, however as of the nature of the mission, keeping in close-contact wasn’t possible. The only communication you received was via small hand-written letters, and they meant the world to you. though they were small you’d kept ahold of every one, keeping them safely tucked in your bedside drawer, re-reading them before you’d turn in to sleep each night.

Which is why you had been so excited for Nat’s return; you’d even deep cleaned your shared bedroom so everything would be perfect for her arrival. Nothing should’ve gone wrong. If only everything went how you’d planned...

~~~ ~~~

You’d gone to bed a little later that night, feeling a little more tired than usual, you wanted to have plenty of energy for tomorrow. That’s probably when you woke up that next morning, your body washed with fatigue and the feeling of a migraine settling in, you felt your eyes grow teary. How could this happen today? Of all days for you to get sick, why today?

No. You pulled yourself from the bed, as you stood a wave of dizziness fell over you, sending you scrambling to grip the bedpost to steady yourself, ignoring your body's cries to remain laying down. You gave yourself a moment to adjust before forcing yourself to remake the bed behind you. There was no time to be sick today.

You tried to sniffle, but you couldn’t. Now that you thought about it, you had been breathing through your mouth the whole morning. You twitched your nose and sniffled again, trying to get some air through your nose to no avail. You rolled your eyes, could today get any worse?

You regretted asking yourself that question a second later when you found yourself pulling off Nat’s red hoodie (the one you’d been sleeping in for the past week) feeling an uncomfortable warmth begin to settle over you. Maybe a shower would help, you thought before making your way over to your bathroom.

Stepping into the tiled room, you turned on your shower and waited for it to get warm, feeling dizzy again, you put your hands on the counter to steady yourself and looked up at the mirror. You felt yourself physically cringe at the sight. God, saying you looked awful would be a huge understatement, your eyes had dark circles beneath them, it looked like you hadn't slept in weeks.

The mirror slowly began to fog up, reminding you of the shower which was running behind you. Pulling open the door, you were hit by a cascade of warm steam. It felt amazing and you could feel your congestion start to loosen a little.

Only your delight lasted for a second, a familiar sensation creeping into the bridge of your nose. Stepping into the shower, you were only able to enjoy the feeling of the water briefly before the sensation in your nose grew to an irritating tickle.

“Hhup’tshiew! Hh-’iishiew! HHe’TSHHIEW!” Your body bent forwards at the waist as you sneezed down into your hands before washing them off under the water, you grimaced at the sound you made, knowing it was only the first of many to come. You sighed, your stuffiness returning in an instant, though you really didn’t get long to dwell on it before you began coughing into your fist.

It took you about 30 seconds to finally stop, “Well that was attractive.” You spoke for the first time today, finding your sarcastic tone had a painful-rasp to it, your consonants blurred by congestion. Although nobody was there to hear you, you found yourself cringing at the sound of yourself. Taking a deep breath, you could feel your chest crack, you looked upwards, allowing the water to fall directly onto your face. It was obvious today was going to be a very long day.

You let yourself spend longer than usual in the shower, stepping out of the warm water, your body shivered and you rushed to wrap yourself within a towel. Getting changed was a task which proved harder than you thought, every time you removed the towel, small goosebumps ran down your arms, making your wrap yourself back up, desperate for warmth. Eventually though you managed to pull through and you changed into a pair of Nat’s sweatpants and a thick cotton-lined hoodie.

It was almost 10:30AM by the time you’d wandered down into the compound kitchen in search of something to eat, you weren’t necessarily hungry but still you had to eat something. Nat didn’t like it when you didn’t have something for breakfast plus you were hoping that if you ate something then you’d feel a little better.

Looking in the cupboards, you settled on having some Poptarts, you were reaching up to grab the box when Clint, Wanda and Bruce came into the kitchen together, they’d most likely just finished training.

“Morning Y/N.” Clint said cheerily as he came to sit at the island behind you, “Nat's coming home today.”

“I'm aware.” You said bluntly, as you sniffled into the sleeve of your hoodie, taking two Poptarts and putting them in the toaster.

“Woah, no need to get snappy.” Clint said throwing his hands up in fake-defence, you knew he was only joking but still, it pissed you off.

“Can yo-” You stopped to muffle a small chesty cough into your hoodie, “Can you just stop?” You said with an irritated tone, turning around to glare at him.

You half-expected him to return the gesture but instead you were met with looks of concern from him along with Wanda and Bruce who’d watched the whole thing unfold.

“Y/N, honey,” Wanda’s soft voice said as she came to lean against the fridge, trying to get a closer look at you, “Clint was only joking, he didn’t mean to annoy you. You're sounding a little stuffy over there though, you feeling alright?”

“It's okay,” You sighed, looking over to Clint, “Sorry, I overreacted and Wanda, I'm fine, don’t worry.”

It was then that you felt your nose begin to tingle again, you fanned your face for a moment, in an attempt to somehow stave the tickle off but it didn’t help, you turned quickly to the side away from everyone as you sneezed into your elbow.

“Hh-itshhiew! HhH’uptshiew!” You gave a small congested groan before reaching over to grab a tissue from the box sitting on the countertop.

The three Avengers blessed you, exchanging glances between themselves. You didn’t notice however, as your Poptarts were ready a moment later. You grabbed a plate and put them onto it, taking a bite, you winced as you swallowed, the action angering the soreness at the back of your throat. You realised then that you really weren't hungry at all, you took another few bites before pushing the plate away from you. You’d only managed half of one.

“It's not like you to leave food.” Bruce voiced the thoughts of everyone around you.

You gave a weak shrug and pushed the plate infront of Clint, “You can finish it if you want.”

He was about to take a bite of your half-eaten one when Wanda pushed it away mid-air, a red glow forming around it.

“If Y/N’s sick, you don’t wanna catch that.” She him chided lightly.

“Who said Im sick?” You looked over to her as you began to walk out from the kitchen, “I just happened to leave some food unfinished, that doesn’t mean Im sick, does it?” You said grumpily as you left.

Wanda shook her head and shrugged at the others before following you out into the corridor, jogging up so she could walk aside you, following your lead as you made your way towards the lounge.

“Mind if I tag along?” She asked politely, “You really don’t seem yourself today, did something happen with you and Nat? You’re normally buzzing with excitement every time she comes home.”

“Nothing happened Wands,” You stopped walking, suddenly sneezing down into your hand, “I can't wait for her to come home obviously. Im just a little tired or something.”

Wanda blessed you but gave you an uneasy look, she didn’t believe you but seeing how you’d gotten irritated at Clint earlier, she didn’t want to accidently annoy you.

You and Wanda made your way into the lounge, settling on opposite sofas. You pulled a blanket around yourself, your hoodie doing little to keep you warm. You let Wanda pick something to watch, you didn’t really care, all you wanted was something to take your mind off the mind-numbing ache in your head.

“Is Brooklyn-Nine-Nine alright?” She asked as she browsed through Netflix.

“I don’t mind.” You sniffled, burying your head into the blanket as you coughed deeply, the noise causing Wanda to look over at you with worried eyes.

“You sound terrible.” She said as the intro to the series began to play.

Looking up at her, it was obvious she was concerned, “Just something in my throat.” You grumbled, your voice coming out in crackled, raspy words rather than a flowing sentence, “Its fin- h- Hh'tshhiEW!”

Wanda wordlessly got up and picked up the box of tissues from the coffee table in the centre of the living room and placed them firmly next to you, ignoring your glare. You couldn't help but feel weak, if you couldn’t hide your little cold from Wands, how on earth were you meant to hide it from Natasha.

You and Wanda sat in silence for 2 episodes before you felt your nose begin to run causing you to begin sniffling repeatedly, it was then that you found yourself being thankful for her prior act, taking 2 tissues to blow your nose, you mentally thanked her, giving her a brief smile.

Wanda looked over to you, she’d heard your thoughts and gave you a kind reassuring smile.

You didn’t know it, but you were slowly falling asleep, your eyes growing heavier by the minute. You looked up to the clock on the wall, it was almost 12PM, meaning Nat would be home in afew hours. You yawned, maybe you’d just close your eyes for a minute...

~~ ~~

Stepping off the Quinjet, Natasha could barely contain herself, finally she’d be able to see you! She didn’t waste any time, leaving the Quinjet loaded and her bags at the exit. She could clean up later, she had to see you first.

She practically jogged down the halls towards your bedroom, expecting to find you waiting for her.

“Im home bab-” She called out but stopped, realising the room was empty, she did notice how tidy it looked though, well except the random towel in the middle of the floor, but apart from that the room was almost spotless.

Nat stopped to think for a moment before realising you were probably with the other Avengers, she said hello to Clint as she poked her head into the kitchen, scanning the room for you.

“They’re with Wanda, in the lounge.” Clint called, answering her unasked question as he wiped down the countertops, cleaning up after himself.

Nat thanked him before actually jogging towards the living room, she swung the door open and smiled seeing both you and Wanda sitting on the sofas.

She was about to call out to you but stopped, seeing Wanda put a finger to her lips. She stood up and came over to Nat, pulling her outside.

“What's up?” Nat asked, visibly confused at the witch’s actions.

“I thought you should know, Y/N’s sick, they sounded dreadful earlier. They fell asleep about 3 hours and have barely moved an inch.” She explained, “Im glad you’re back though, how was it?”

“It was alright, I missed everyone though.” Nat smiled and hugged her friend, “Thanks for telling me about Y/N too.”

“Don't mention it.” Wanda smiled and left to go do something, allowing Nat to greet you privately.

Natasha came back into the lounge, carefully coming to kneel infront of the sofa you were asleep on, “Hey baby.” She whispered, as she softly stroked your cheek, she recoiled her hand, instantly alarmed at the heat radiating from your face, “Wakey, wakey sweetie.”

It took some more love from Nat before you slowly began to wake up, moaning softly as your eyes adjusted to the light in the room, you rubbed your wrist against your eyes as the image of Nat came into focus.

“Did you have a nice nap baby?” She asked, helping you sit up.

“Natty.” Your voice cracked as you spoke, sending you into a small fit of deep coughing. Only this time you had Nat to softly rub her hand down your back, “Sorry, something got caught in my throat there, when did you get back?”

“About 10 minutes ago, when did you get sick?” She raised her eyebrow at you as you woozily stood up, quickly offering her arm out to support you.

“What do you mean?” You asked, resisting the urge to sniffle. If there was anytime you needed your acting abilities to be flawless, it was now. You had a pretty rocky start but you could still make up for it.

Nat gave you a curious look, “Wanda said you were sick?” Her words came as more of a question then a statement.

“Oh.” You feigned surprise as you tried to discreetly clear your throat, “Well Im fine, never better.” You flashed her a small forced smile.

‘Fine’ is probably the most misused word in the whole of the English language, you most certainly were not fine, even as you stood still it felt as if the room was spinning around, you but you did your best to act as if nothing was wrong.

Now Natasha knew you were lying, it was obvious from your appearance alone, your eyes were tired and glassy, not to mention both your cheeks and nose were tinged red. But still, she was impressed at your perseverance, maybe that was why she went along with your scheme. She wanted nothing more than to wrap you up in her hands with tissues and a blanket but she just wanted to see how long it’d take for you to give in.

“Maybe Wanda was wrong then.” Nat smiled at you knowingly, “You wanna go out for drinks later?”

You wanted to cry, you wanted nothing more than to go out for drinks with Nat but you knew there’d be no way you’d be going, “Sure, sounds nice, Im really happy you’re home ‘Tasha. I missed you so so mu-” Your trailed off, feeling the ever-present tickle in your nose grow. Not now.

“Hhu’tshhiew! Hep’TSHHIEW!”

“Oh bless you, my love.” Nat cooed, holding back the plethora of concerned words which were about to tumble from her mouth, “I thought you said you weren't sick?”

“Im not,” You stammered, quickly rubbing the sleeve of your hoodie against your nose, “It was just two -Hh- rando- Hh'iishiew!- random sneezes, its nothing.” You sniffled wetly, reaching for the box of tissues which was still sat on the sofa behind you.

Natasha was stuck. Her heart broke seeing you sick but she really was curious how long you would deny it for, she thought for a moment, if you got any of worst then she’d take matters into her own hands.

“Have you eaten yet?” You asked, even through your fever, her welfare was still at the top of your mind.

“No, but I could use a drink though.” She fibbed, hearing the rasp behind your voice, it was clear you needed water.

“M’Kay, we should go get you one then.” You mumbled, linking your arm with hers as you both left the lounge to go to the kitchen.

Entering the kitchen, you let yourself sit down on one of the stools at the island as Nat grabbed two glasses from the cupboards, pouring water into each.

“Here baby.” She said lovingly, sliding it over to you.

You thanked her and drank it, the cool water feeling amazing against the burning of your throat, “Did you already unpack?”

“Not yet,” She replied, sipping her water, “I’ll do it later.”

“You need a hand?” You offered, praying she’d decline your offer, you really weren't too confident in your lifting abilities at the moment.

“Aw thanks baby but I think I’ll be okay.”

You sat silently, waiting for Nat to finish her water when you started sniffling, feeling your nose begin to run again. You eyed up the tissues on the counter opposite, but grabbing them would be an instant sign to Nat that something was wrong so you opted for trying to discreetly rub your nose against your hoodie.

However, the action only seemed to irritate your nose further, sending an intense tingle to the bridge of your nose.

“Hh’k-tshhiew! Heh’iiishiew! Hh..H..HHitsshiew!”

“Bless you, bless you!” She exclaimed, her worry slipping into her tone as she spoke, “You need a tissue?”

You nodded, as you swiped a handful from the box which she offered out to you. You blew your nose softly, though it did little to ease your discomfort. You sighed, fanning your hand infront of your face, feeling that familiar warmth from earlier that morning come over you again.

You tried to ignore it, but it slowly became unbearable, you raised your arms, pulling off the cotton hoodie, revealing your black sports bra.

Natasha looked over you, puzzled, before noticing that your fever-flushed cheeks had darkened further. Right. This had gone too far now.

She firmly pressed her palm to your forehead without warning, letting out a string of curses in Russian as she felt your raging fever.

“Shit, Y/N. You feel like a furnace. Enough, I know you’re sick, I’ve known the whole time, it's gone too far now.”

What? Her words barely formed coherent sentences in your foggy mind, how did she know? You’d hidden it so well. Small beads of sweat began to form and run down your hot skin and you groaned in discomfort, longing for her love.

“Natty-” You spluttered off into a series of deep coughs, your chest convulsing as you coughed down into your elbow. Natasha had rushed to your side and began running circles down your back, slowly helping you regain your breath.

“Baby I don’t feel good.”

“I know sweetie, I know.” Nat kissed your cheek before grabbing a tissue to wipe your running nose, “You need to get into bed, come on.”

You nodded and opened her hand out towards you.

You stood and the world span around you, your peripheral vision fading black suddenly as your knees buckled under yourself and you felt the weight of gravity pull you down. You thought you were going to hit the ground when sudden you felt yourself being lifted upwards. Natasha’s fast reaction had allowed her to slip one arm beneath your knees and another behind your back, safely catching you in her arms as you lifted you up in the bridal position.

She held you for a moment before releasing a deep exhale, “Jesus Y/N. You scared the shit out of me, don’t ever do that again,” She brought her head and pressed it softly against yours, “Poor baby, you’ve been so strong but we need to get you to bed now, okay?”

You nodded woozily, Natasha continued to whisper sweet nothings to you as she carried you, her strong arms supporting you. Your eyes fell closed for a moment and the next thing you knew, you were being lowered down onto your bed, Natasha’s anxious green eyes looking down at you.

“I guess we’re not going out for drinks then?” Your words were mumbled but you saw her give a slight smirk at your humour.

“No baby, we’ll go out when your well.”

“Sorry your first day back was so eventful, I wanted you to be able to relax.” You sighed, with a damp sniffle, rubbing your nose against the blanket which Nat had pulled over you.

“You’re okay baby, you’ve done so much today. You just need to relax yourself, just lay here. That fever of yours is no joke, you need to rest.”

Natasha opened your drawer, seeing if you had a thermometer at hand, what she wasn’t expecting to see though was her letters, “You kept these?” She asked, her eyes prickled with tears. She hadn't expected you to keep them, her mission had been hard and seeing her letters only reminded her of how much she’d missed you.

“They remind me of you so I wanted to keep them.” Your words were slurred but she understood you anyway.

She honestly wasn’t sure why she thought you wouldn’t keep them. Seeing them lit a little flame in her heart, she leant down to your side and planted a soft kiss on your lips, “I’ll never leave you again baby, okay? Im here.”

You muffled another deep cough into the blanket as Nat regained her composure, wiping the tears from the corners of her eyes. She came and slid into bed beside you, sitting upright. You shuffled backwards so you were laying on her, your head on her chest, listening to the steady beating of her heart as she softly ran her hand through your hair.

“Everything’s gonna be okay.”

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jadeylovesmarvelxo · 1 year

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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.

💖

#eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader fluff

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havin-fun-imagining-twd · 1 year

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A measure of reverence, Pt. 1

Please accept my genuine apologies for the month long delay again, slowpokes. I do have the next two stories after this typed out, which amazes even me :D

When - the morning of the season 2 Chupacabra episode whooo. For the Slowpoke Series, the morning after A mighty good team.

What - the group is gearing up for another day of searching. There’s caffeine, chattering about an iconic early 2000s TV show, Daryl cracking funnies (”What are you brayin’ at, jackass?”), and Shane’s gradual descent. And you finally primp your eyebrows

Relationships - slow burn Daryl x You at the friendship level growing stronger every day, platonic Glenn, and more.

Perspective - You 2nd, Him (Daryl POV) 3rd

Pronouns? - she/her for convenience

TWs? - some language

Is it super long? - nope, about 3,500 words

Is it boring? - at times, y’all, you know how it is. This one was kept lighter because the next two are a bit darker

Are there plot references to other stories? - aw yeah, here’s a link to the Masterlist, slowpoke

Are there lame screenshots from the episode? - naturally, and word-for-word dialogue!

(never wanted to do a bleach wash for a fictional character’s costume so badly)

................................

Early-morning

................................

your morning

“Your mama said yes?” you check with Jimmy again.

“Yeah.”

“I think it’s smart, he knows the area.” Glenn sounds unsure of himself when he next volunteers, “And hey, after we get back, I can help you with…stuff. What, um, what stuff around the farm needs doing? I grew up helping my parents in the garden?”

While those two talk about that, you see that Lori is up and dressed and already hanging laundry to dry. She didn’t really sleep in as much as she probably needed to, but you call “Good mornin’!” just the same and go over to help her.

Dude, you’ve been buzzing around since 6am. The migraine that hit you last night you were able to pretty much do away with after taking the prescription Glenn found—but you woke up early to desperately use the toilet (not even in the RV, you’d used a quickly dug hole by the treeline behind some brush and trees. Blame the magnesium and charcoal).

Anyhoo, you made the coffee today while still half-asleep, and dude, one cup of coffee usually doesn’t perk you up so much!

You’d set up a jar of sun tea for Carol, did laundry, spent some time with Carl, chatted with Maggie and Patricia, survived the lengthy discussion between Rick and Hershel about Carl’s transfusion this afternoon during which Rick still didn’t confront you about how Carl getting shot was your fault and you really wish someone would just out and say it and get it over with, then you opened up + fed + watered the chickens before collecting the eggs for the Greenes, sacrificed a t-shirt to be made into fabric strips for the search party today, primped your eyebrows (finally), made your hair look passable, and wiped down with baby wipes in your tent by way of showering, AND learned some shoulder/neck PT exercises from Jimmy, it was great! You’ve barely even fallen into an inner spiral about the Shane/Lori/Rick/baby situation and about poor Sophia all morning!

Trotting over to Lori, you place your mug (it’s Jacqui’s old mug, actually) on the ground and start to help hang the damp, cleaned clothes. “How’d you sleep?”

Something about the way she says it seems hint that she feels guilty for not waking up early. “Slept like a log, if you can believe it. I didn’t even feel Rick get up.”

“Good.” You shake out and flatten Dale’s cargo pants to get some of the wrinkles out before hanging them.

“Was that your doing, then?”

“Might could’ve told him to sleep in with you last night.”

She takes a slow breath, then pastes on a smile and is most likely trying to sound normal when she asks, “Next time, wake me, especially on laundry day. How are you, is your dizziness gone, honey?”

“All gone.” But ouch, you lift your injured shoulder a little too high while hanging the pants.

She notices and lightly tuts. “Let me hang them, you can hand me the clothespins.” While fixing the line, she makes sure, “Last night, Patricia mentioned checking your stitches. Did you see her?”

“Saw her this morning when I was talking with Maggie. My stitches are doing great, gonna have ’em for another week or so. Why did you have on that frowny face as I walked over here, Lore?” You glance down at her belly then back to her eyes.

With a subtle shake of her head, she hangs up another shirt. “It’s nothing, it was…” she peeks over at you. “Carol just called me our ‘unofficial first lady.’ At first I thought it was funny, but...” That pasted-on cheerful expression falls away to reveal a sort of nervous look. “I-I don’t know why—was that just her saying that, you think?” Her tone of voice suggests that she hopes it’s only Carol who thought so.

However, you shrug very unhelpfully. “Rick is kinda the group’s head, I guess. How’d it come up?”

“She wants to cook dinner for the Greene’s.” She pauses, frowns, and becomes visibly uncomfortable. “But she thought the offer would sound better coming from me. I should’ve told her that was just Ed’s voice in her head, but I was too…I-I didn’t know what to respond so I just kept hanging laundry.”

At least her brows smooth out when she adds, “Dale’s boxers, of all things.”

That got you giggling. “On that topic, I don’t know how y’all got all the bloodstains out of all these. You’d never know.”

The clothes T-Dog had been wearing when his arm got sliced open + the clothing you, Rick, and Carl had been wearing when Carl was shot = clean as if nothing at all happened. Even the clothes the Greene’s lent you that you wore for two and a half days straight (and got egg and blood stains on) look fresh.

You crouch down to grab your coffee and cannot help but remember the phrase Daryl used last night regarding your ‘mother-henning’ as you check, “Did you eat enough breakfast, Lore? That way your vitamins will absor—shoot, we have to get vitamins.”

“I had some water when I woke up.”

“Oh, that’ll keep you going.”

She bumps you with her hips, entertained enough to smile a little.

“Wanna use Jacqui’s mug after I’m finished?” you offer, holding it up. The handle had broken during the rush to leave the CDC, but Lori glued it after. “Have a sip, it’s nice and strong. A little bit is okay, right?”

Nodding, she takes it and her eyes turned glassy. “I miss her.”

Which is why you aren’t expecting the sudden grin after she drinks some. “Honey, this is espresso.”

...........................

his morning

He’d woken up early and taken out the original map to bring to his tent so he could fix all the grids. When his stomach started yelling at him for breakfast, he brought the map back to the campsite and downed a can of beans while working. He even put timeframes down, it was a productive-ass early morning. And that’s with his slight headache after getting slightly drunk last night.

It was Y/N who actually, um…she noticed he wasn’t feeling too hot and went and brought him some painkillers. After poking fun about his breakfast choice, obviously.

Speak of, she’s on her way over with a mug of coffee.

“Good morning, troublemaker,” Dale calls to her. He’s holding this real teeny mug (teacup? fancy shot glass?). “It’s nice to be using Irma’s demitasse this morning.”

Not knowing what that means, Daryl watches as Y/N twists her mouth playfully while chirping back, “G’morning, Dale.”

“You’re definitely feelin’ better,” Daryl muses when she reaches him.

“Miles better from last night. Good stuff is gonna happen today.” She holds out her mug for some reas—oh, the coffee is for him?

Again, he has to quickly pause and digest what it feels like for somebody to give a damn, then has to shove back the assumption that there’s some hidden angle behind it.

Except, when he goes to grab it, it’s barely full (?).

Carol’s voice pops in from his right, and he hasn’t ever heard her sound so teasing before. Never heard her make much noise at all. “Was the espresso accidental, pookie?”

Ha, ‘pookie.’

“Might could’ve been?” Y/N admits with a groan. “Yo, feel my pulse, it’s goin’ haywire.”

That explained why there wasn’t much coffee in the cup, he guesses. Intending to check over the map again, he’s next aware of Y/N snickering to Carol, “Ohh-ho, can that be his nickname?” with her thumb pointed at him.

What does she mean about a nickname? Best ignore that.

...wait, did she mean ‘pookie?’

His ears perk up again upon hearing Y/N happily announcing, “Nah, I slept off the migraine like almost completely!”

That makes him stop nit-picking the grid boundaries and look up at her. “Last night?” Is she even okay to go out today?

Y/N gives a little bow and takes a sip from her water bottle. “Like two hours after falling asleep I woke up ’cause I was getting one, so I took one of the pills Glenn found at the drug store and,” she pauses and turns around. “Glenn, air high-five!” she calls over, and he and she do a little clapping motion from a few yards away. And yeah, she winces because she used her bad shoulder.

Turning back with a shrug, she finishes, “But yeah, I simply went back to sleep, woke up feelin’ pretty good. I th-think having all those other painkillers already in my system helped,” she adds as Carol walks back to, uh, he didn’t know, someplace, wherever she came from. “How’s your hangover, any better? Stomach ain’t queasy?”

“I didn’t drink enough to get hungover, m’fine,” he grumbles. “You, uh, doing okay with what you got goin’ on?”

“Same as yesterday.” She starts concentrating on the new grid lines and appears to be silently mouthing directions while pointing out the path they’d taken yesterday. It’s like she’s studying for a test.

Then a dumb thing happens: when he goes to wipe his nose on his shirt, he smells tuna fish.

Cigarettes he knows he smells like, and BO, obviously, everyone’s sweaty as hell these days, but tuna? He’s gotta draw a damn line somewhere.

When he asks Y/N about it, she’s too absorbed in the grid to give a helpful answer. “I never really mind how you smell, to be honest. Ain’t there a thing to do with gene compatibility and that or some such?”

She doesn’t really mind how I…and what was that about jeans?

Lifting up his shirt again to sniff it then fast as he can, yanking it down where it rode up in the back so his scars won’t be on display, he asks more plainly, “I don’t smell like fish?”

“Oh, that, yeah.” She nods, taking another sip of water. “You had tuna with your breakfast again, right?”

He shakes his head and stands there dumbfounded, trying to figure out how it was possible that he smells like fish (and why he cares).

Rick comes over to study the grid, positioning himself next to Y/N with a “Good morning, weirdo. Daryl, how’s things?”

Then, Daryl remembers how he’d tossed that can of tuna he’d had for breakfast yesterday into his tent. When he took off his overshirt last night, he must’ve flung it right onto the can.

Maybe he should clean up in there…

…Either way, he’s jogging over to change.

.................................

You

“Colored strips to mark the boundaries and searched areas, that’s clever,” Rick mumbles. “Hey Dar—wait, where’d he g—” He looks up and all around. “Y/N, where’s Daryl? I was about to ask him a question.”

“Grabbin’ a fresh shirt.”

He nods and points to a spot on the map. “Do you know what this here is?”

“A high ridge. He wants to get to the top ’cause it’ll show a lot of the search area.”

“Then it looks like you and he are set to head this way after searching this stretch right here?”

“Mr. Greene said most of the houses there were cleared of any sick ones—um, walkers,” you share, massaging the side of your neck the migraine hit last night. “Our hope is Sophia found a safe place to hole up there, it’s right off the trail.”

On her way back to finish helping T-Dog cut the fabric strips for the search grids, Andrea briefly comes over and stands beside you to get a look at the new plans.

Rick’s doing The Squint at you. “Are you okay to join us today? How’s your head? I know Shane doesn’t…” he gestures at you leaves it at that.

Yeah, you know what Shane doesn’t want and what he thinks about the whole thing.

You assure Rick, “My head’s pretty good, all told,” and leave it at that.

“And the rest of you?” he presses, maintaining the squint.

Andrea raises her brows and has your back when she says, “She's able to decide for herself,” as she turns back to rejoin T-Dog, who, as you now see, is inclining his ear to listen in.

“Are your energy levels even any good after givin’ almost three pints two days ago?” you more remind Rick than ask.

He glances behind at the T-Dog and Andrea. Why’s he about to smile? “Well, after about a coffee mug’s worth of espresso,” he chuckles, “I’d say so.”

Ah, another accidental victim. You’re grateful no one in the group has heart issues (and that some of them recognized the mistake by the taste. You and Rick did not have that skill).

“Sorry, Ricky,” you say through an awkward smile.

But it’s cool, he’s still grinning about something. He looks at Andrea and T-Dog again. “When I mentioned how Shane doesn’t feel comfortable with her searching today, she licked the ridge of her teeth just like he does when he’s mad.”

“You’d think they was raised in the same house,” T-Dog dryly comments.

A dumb thing happens: the comment doesn’t hit you like you expect it to. You should have giggled and forgotten about it.

And you like being compared to your siblings, you love them. You loved it when your foster siblings started adopting mannerisms like you guys.

But hearing that silly, little, meaningless observation comparing you and Shane, it hit different…

Stop being an idiot about it. Stupid girl. Shane is a good man, you know that. Give him a damn break.

Rick looks more serious when he murmurs, “Speak of, let me go get him. Just need to go over a few things. Be ready in a few.”

.................................

Him

He had to take a dump first, so he’s only just now grabbing a different shirt. He figured he’d just yank his clean one from the clothesline.

“I can give you one of Shane’s ribbed tanks if you want,” he then hears Y/N offer.

He looks over to where she’s walking with two bundles of strips, one white, one yellow.

Then he looks down at his tank top. Is it that bad?

Whatever, he’s gonna put something on over it, anyway. “It’ll get just as mucked up as this one.” Speaking of, he grabs his shirt off the clothesline and starts to unbutton it.

This look passes over her face as she peeks at his tank top for a stretch longer than he would think was normal. “That was Merle’s,” she figures out.

How, he has no idea.

“You’ve always worn the ones with the thick straps that go up higher, your brother tended to wear the more wife-beater type—sorry! The kind with thinner straps. Ma hated the nickname for those types of tanks.” She follows this up with an apologetic mention of, “They called them ‘wife-beaters’ in The OC, so it’s on my mind,” as if whatever that was made sense to him.

“...That a movie?”

“A TV show. Oh, Glenn!” she suddenly calls over to him.

One of their little exchanges starts. Daryl forgets to put on his shirt because truth be told, it’s kinda easy to get kinda sucked in when those two start, even though those two can jabber on about literally damn nothing.

She stretches her arm carefully. “Your middle sister made you watch The OC with her, right?” she asks Glenn.

“She and I did, yeah. Appa, too, but it was more of a hate-watch thing. Kinda weird they only ever had one Asian on the show, dude, like, Orange County’s got a huge Asian population. We’re like 1 in 6.”

Y/N looks at Daryl in expectation of him being surprised, too, then back at Glenn. “For real?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s crazy.” She flops the bundle of fabric strips from one hand to another. Glenn starts to sword fight it or whatever with the other bundle of strips.

“Oh right, sorry—anyways,” Y/N starts up again, “Maggie and I got to talkin’ about the show over breakfast. We both decided it stopped existing five minutes before the third season ended but we both love that Kirsten and Sandy had another baby in the season four.”

“Oh, and the thing with Kirsten’s alcoholism? And the way Ryan—”

However Glenn was gonna end that sentence gets cut off by Rick as he and Shane stride over to the map laid out on the hood of Carol’s old Jeep station wagon.

“Good mornin’, guys. Let get going. We got a lot of ground to cover.”

Daryl jogs over with his shirt. It’s hot as hell outside, he’s already sweating like a pig in a bacon factory.

He ends up next to T-Dog, Rick in the middle, Andrea beside him, Y/N, then Shane.

“All right, everyone’s getting new search grids today,” Rick starts. “If she made it as far as the farmhouse Daryl found, she might’ve gone further East than we’ve been so far.”

As Daryl finally puts on his shirt, the teenage boy appears from out of nowhere. “I’d like to help,” he pipes in. “I know the area pretty well and stuff…”

“Hershel’s okay with this?” Rick asks.

“Yeah. Yeah, um—he said I should ask you.”

Unless he was just nervous, what that Jimmy kid just said was either a lie or a white lie. But, Rick doesn’t argue.

For a cop, that guy’s a little too trusting. “All right, then. Thanks.”

Daryl catches Y/N’s frown as she looks at him, then at Jimmy, then at Rick with her brows all low, unconvinced. It looks like she’s about to wave Jimmy closer when her brother interrupts.

“Nothing about what Daryl found screams Sophia to me.”

Not even looking at her directly, Daryl sees his friend’s muscles tense up, he can tell even from his spot across from her.

“Give this a measure of reverence, Shane,” she hushes. She’s trying not to react too strong.

“I’m bein’ upfront about the situation, Y/N,” Shane insists. Then to everyone there, he goes on to declare, “Daryl brought her back there just yesterday, she wasn’t convinced. Anybody could’ve been holed up in that farmhouse.”

The way his friend hunched when her brother mouthed off made a big part of him want to mouth off right back. But Andrea, classy as hell, steps in without missing a damn beat. “Anybody includes Sophia, right?”

She was so casual about it that it pretty much made it seem like she was brushing off a bug from her shirt. That chick is good, shit.

..................................

You

Andrea must’ve been such a good attorney, good Moses. You’ve never seen her feathers ruffled, like, ever, she lets it all just roll off. How is she so calm? Because while you were fixing to pounce, probably very obviously, she slid a hand around your waist and smoothly (so smoothly!) pointed out to Shane, “Anybody includes Sophia, right?”

It’s either the jitters from the caffeine or your damned hot head, because you’re just—you’re ready to start clawing at the man who’s overtaking your brother, because why would he have said that out loud? To all them? You’re fucking mortified.

That wasn’t Shane, it wasn’t Shane! Why is he being like this? And why can’t he button his stupid shirt all the way, huh?

Dale is coming out of the RV and gives you a look as if asking ‘what happened?’ so, you imagine taking the stupid tea kettle off the stupid burner to calm down.

No one else seems to be as agitated as you, not even Daryl, which is a huge relief.

Echoing Andrea, he’s as nonchalant as they come when he scratches his nose and reminds everyone, “Whoever slept in that cupboard was no bigger than yea-high.”

To which Andrea is quick to reinforce, “Good lead,” along with Rick when he agrees, “Maybe we’ll pick up her trail again.”

“No ‘maybe’ about it,” he grunts. “We’re gonna borrow a horse, head up to this ridge right here, take a bird’s eye view of the whole grid.” Except, Daryl hadn’t mentioned anything about a horse before, neither yesterday nor today.

First of all, he can ride a horse? Hot. Second…who did he ask for permission about borrowing one? He briefly catches your confused stare as he points to the spot on the map. “If she’s up there, we’ll spot her.”

T-Dog’s been nodding away at all of this, impressed. “Good idea,” he tells Daryl. But then his brows lift and his lips pout a little in the way that happens before he cracks a joke. Lo and behold: “Maybe you’ll see your chupacabra up there, too.”

The tension in your body from a few moments ago goes *poof* as you grin.

“Chupacabra?” Rick repeats, again sporting The Squint.

“You never heard this?” Dale, now next to Daryl and across from you, hoists the gun bag on the hood and begins handing them out while staring into space and narrating. “Our first night in camp, Daryl tells us that the whole things reminds him of a time he went squirrel hunting and he saw a chupacabra.”

Sweet little Jimmy finally relaxes and lets out a quiet giggle while Rick’s squint turns into a mild smirk.

Unfortunately for sweet little Jimmy, Daryl grates at him, “What are you brayin’ at, jackass?”

Okay, you’re sorry, but even though it wasn’t appropriate of him to react that way to an innocent giggle, that comeback was really quick and you’re snorting. Still, poor kid. You switch places with Andrea to be next to Jimmy and make a point to openly laugh at the conversation.

Rick is stuck in squint-mode, isn’t he? “You believe in a blood-sucking dog?”

And Daryl is quick on the draw. “You believe in dead people walkin’ around?”

Yet again, you’re somehow the only one who finds this funny (Glenn, dude. Where are you?).

Next thing you see is Jimmy casually reaching for a long gun.

Rick and you both stop his arm, and T-Dog cautions, “Hold on there, kid.”

“Hey, hey. You ever fire one before?” Rick challenges.

“If I’m going out, I want one.”

Daryl shoulders his crossbow and tosses out, “Yeah, and people in hell want slurpees.”

You’re the only one laughing, again. Rough crowd today.

“Jimmy, yesterday I got ‘quit cluckin’ like a mother hen’ from him, don’t even worry about it,” you share. “You mentioned you did skeet shooting with your dad before, right? So you’ve fired a shotgun, then?”

“Once or—I mean, yeah.”

That means he has no idea, never mind.

Shane speaks up and sounds much more like himself when he does. “Why don’t you come train tomorrow? If you’re serious, I’m a certified instructor.”

“Not to brag, but he’s a really good one, too,” you definitely brag.

Jimmy, overwhelmed at all the attention from grown-up strangers, nods slightly.

Andrea (so smoothyl!) tactfully and kindly solves the problem. “For now, he can come with us.”

“He’s yours to babysit then,” is Shane’s brusque surrender, and he waves Jimmy over with his hunting tomahawk.

Andrea, of course, doesn’t pay this any mind and goes to arm herself with her pistol. You try to follow suit by not staring daggers at your brother.

Instead, you finally let everyone know, “Glenn is going with him, y’all. I don’t know where he ran off to, but these are theirs.” You hold up the yellow fabric strips, then look at Jimmy. “Glenn’s smart and fast, you’ll be in great hands with him,” you say out loud, then whisper in his ear, “I know you asked your mama, but you gotta ask Mr. Greene, too, okay?” Back to a normal volume, you wish him and those around the station wagon, "Don’t die, don’t get bit.”

You’ve just started to jog off to join Daryl and start today’s search when Shane stops you and pulls you in for a hug. He kisses your head. “Don’t die, don’t get bit.”

.................................

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@its-freaking-bats @spenciepoo338 @whistlesalot

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iwahajii · 1 year

Text

• stars don’t sparkle (3)

He may have lost his memories, but you lost the love of your life.

prev // next

warnings: mentions of an accident, amnesia

•

When spring came, it truly felt like a breath of fresh air not just for Iwaizumi, but for you too. Somehow, the pain caused by the unfortunate incident that happened faintly ebbed in your heart, replaced by a calm hope that things would get better. After all, he finally remembers some snippets of your memories together.

He remembers a lot of things now, many of which are recent memories from the time you two met and some even just before the accident. Still, his recollection is more spontaneous much to your dismay and there were still days when he tends to shy away from your presence because he gets overwhelmed.

His slow recollection began last winter when you asked him to stay over when he walked you home drunk. Although the situation was mortifying, it served as a trigger for some of his memories to come back. He must’ve spent quite some time awake and alone in the apartment while waiting for you to wake up. To say it was awkward when you woke up was an understatement but the two of you threaded over it carefully. You were glad you weren’t hungover, at least not yet so when he told you he remembered a few things from his sudden visit at the apartment, you were somehow coherent to receive the news.

He remembered that you always slept on the right side of the bed, you prefer sunny side ups over scrambled, your favorite movie is Light Between the Oceans, and you have a tattoo on your collarbone. The last one he wasn’t sure which was why you were surprised when he yelled “it’s true” all of a sudden while you leaned down to reach for a plate.

At your questioning look, he explained, “I wasn’t sure whether you really had a tattoo on your collarbone or not.”

“Oh,” you exclaim, surprised.

“What does it say?”

You blinked, unsure for a split second before finding yourself pulling your shirt to the side, displaying the inscription of alis grave nil on your skin. “Nothing is heavy to those who have wings.”

You watch him look at the words engraved on your skin, his eyes bright with awe as though the ink on your skin is a piece of art. Fueled by his fascination, his fingers tentatively meet your skin slowly tracing over the letters. You can feel your heart race and the burst of cold coming from his fingertips made you take a shaky breath which disrupted whatever spell was cast between the two of you. He quickly pulled his hand away, coughing out an “I’m sorry” before taking a step back. He covered his face with his hand but he was blushing hard up to the tips of his ears there was nothing he could do.

“I have another one,” you told him, deciding to tease him some more. The second he turned his head back at you, you raised your shirt not giving him a chance to ask.

“Fuck!” he cursed and you felt his hands on yours, pulling them down together with your shirt. You didn’t know it would be possible for him to get redder than before. Unable to control it any longer, you threw your head back laughing. “What are you doing? Jesus!” he continued, sweeping a hand through his hair.

“I thought you were curious,” you explained in between laughter. Your laughter was cut short by a pounding in your head and you groaned, feeling the slow tell-tale of a migraine coming soon.

“I am, but you didn’t-“ he paused, “you don’t just-“

“Calm down. It’s not like it’s anywhere obscene or something. Besides, you’ve seen this so many times already…”

In a split second, the playful mood you had was gone, replaced by an awkward tension you never want to navigate ever again. Thankfully, you never have to because before you could apologize, Iwaizumi beat you to it.

“Show me.”

Surprised, you looked up, wondering whether you heard him wrong or not. You search his face for confirmation, some sign to assure you that it wasn’t just some hallucination, and when your eyes meet his, you knew it was real.

“Show me,” he says again.

You could feel from his words the need, the hunger… for what you didn’t know. With trembling hands, you pull your shirt up just until the bottom of your bra could be seen.

You watch as he read the words on your skin, once and then once more, tracing the letters with his eyes and then with his mouth before a shaky breath leaves his lips. When his fingers meet your skin this time, they burn with the kind of warmth you want to brand on your skin the same way the words are. Forever.

Dazed, you almost missed the words he uttered before meeting your eyes.

“Stars don’t sparkle…” he whispered, like he was saying the words more to himself than to you.

You opened your mouth to speak but words and your voice eluded you in that moment, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered at that point because all you could think about was that he knows. He knows and he remembers and maybe this is just the start of things he will remember, but he knows and he remembers. You could feel the tears fill your eyes and before they could fall, you hear him say the words that meant everything.

“They burn.”

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@bitchotine @pressuredtreasure @naturakaashi @lostgirlsstuff @noodlenerd101 @kiwibao @ lavender-pink-socks @queenirish @kuroots2 @ fuglytoes-0288 @kibiscribbles

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu fic #haikyuu angst #Iwaizumi Hajime #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi fanfic #angst

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id-rather-be-an-outsider · 1 year

Text

Cashmere and Cradles

Jean Kierstein x Pregnant!Reader

summary: y/n gets sick, and Jean worries sick. then, they’re both in for the sickest surprise of their lives.

word count: 3226

a/n: I was inspired to write this by the always lovely @quiveringdeer! this is also something close to home for me due to me incorporating my personal experiences, so plz be nice in the notes ya’ll (everyone always is but I like putting the disclaimer there for certain fics)

masterlist

I haven’t stopped being nauseous since I woke up. Is this really all because I had an anxiety attack from that one asshole? I already googled it, maybe it’s the fact that I drank a ton of water right when I woke up. I don’t know. I could barely touch the alfredo noodles we had last night, but I thought that was just me being anxious. Jean looked a little concerned at dinner, but I told him I was fine when he kissed me goodbye this morning. Just tired.

Really, I’m exhausted. I feel my stomach lurch, and I realize, I’m going to throw up. I run to the bathroom as fast as possible, nearly missing the toilet, and the last bits of undigested dinner from last night come up, along with bile and all the water from earlier. When I stop retching, I flush the toilet, and stand up dizzily. I brush my teeth to get rid of the remaining vomit, gargle a million times, and wipe my face, which has tears streaming down from the pain. Without fail, my body always feels like it’s been shoved into a trash compactor when I throw up.

When I’m finished cleaning myself up, I decide to go back to bed. The thought of trying to keep food down right now is an awful one. I text Jean to tell him I think I got a stomach bug, and he immediately texts me back asking why. I smile to myself, rolling my eyes a bit. He’s such a worry wart. Just puked, but I feel a lot better. Must’ve been why I was tired, I reply.

Do you need anything? He asks me, and I can imagine his furrowed eyebrows right in front of me.

You’re so sweet, baby. No, I just need sleep.

Have you eaten today?

No. If I eat right now I probably won’t keep it down. I never can after throwing up. I’ll eat when I wake back up. Love you xo

Ok, love you too babygirl xo

I smile to myself, then set my phone down on the nightstand. It doesn’t take long for me to drift off into a peaceful slumber.

I’m woken by my phone vibrating on the nightstand. “Hello?” I answer groggily, and am spooked by Connie’s annoyingly loud voice.

“Y/n! Someone’s pregnant!” He yells into my ear. I hold my phone far away from me, pinching the bridge of my nose. Somehow, he’s already given me a headache. “Who?”

“I don’t know, but Sasha said her mom had a dream about fish! And you know what that means!” He says. I do not know what that means.

I yawn, asking, “Does it mean she misses her son-in-law’s cooking? Niccolo should visit her again soon.”

Connie pauses. “Hey, were you asleep before I called you?”

“Yes. Very peacefully, I might add. I have the flu.”

“W-why didn’t you tell me?!” He yells at me, and I wince.

“Connie, shut the fuck up! I have a migraine because of you! And because, I thought it would be obvious!” I say.

“Huh?” Connie asks in exasperation. “It’s three in the afternoon! How am I supposed to know you took a midday nap?”

“I never took a nap…” I trail off when I realize that means I’ve slept for basically 14 hours straight, excluding my short time being awake this morning. “Damn. I didn’t think I was this sick.”

“I’m sorry for waking you up, y/n.” Connie apologizes, panic gone from his voice.

I wave him off, not realizing he can’t see me for a few seconds. “No, no, it’s fine. I needed to get up anyways, I have commissions I need to work on, sick or not. Anyways, what’s your point? About the fish and somebody being pregnant.”

“Oh! Right!” He exclaims. “So, dreams have meaning. There’s symbolism in them that rings true.”

“Why are you using the word symbolism? That has no business being in your vocabulary, it’s out of your intelligence bracket.” I say, snickering to myself when he pauses to process what I’ve said.

“Hey! I know things, okay?!” Connie defends himself after realizing I called him stupid. “Anyways, when someone dreams about a fish, it means someone they know is pregnant. And there’s always someone who’s pregnant.

“Mhm.” I say. “Well, if you figure out who that pregnant person is, tell me so I can congratulate them on making a terrible financial decision for the next eighteen plus years. I’m tired, so I’m gonna go back to bed.”

Connie says, “But didn’t you just talk about how much work you were gonna do?”

“Times change, Connie,” I respond, “That, and I just got even more tired than I was when I first answered the phone. I think you’re just exhausting me with your idiocy.”

Connie gasps, and I swear I can hear him clutching his imaginary pearls. “Hurtful!”

I sigh. “Goodbye, Connie.”

He groans, like I’ve just ruined his plans to gossip about pregnancy candidates. “Bye, y/n.” The phone hangs up with a beep, and I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling as I think to myself. There aren’t many options, in all honesty. Ymir and Historia could have decided they wanted to start a family, Eren and Mikasa, Annie and Bertholdt, even Sasha and Niccolo. I’m sick as a dog, so I’m already counted out — can’t have a baby when you’re busy having stomach flu. Before I know it, I’m lulled back to sleep by the comfort of the plush mattress and cushy blankets.

When I come to, it’s sunset, and the offending noise that wakes me is Jean’s keys jangling in the doorknob. I would get up to unlock the door for him, but I’m too groggy to move more than a finger. The door squeaks open, and I hear him put his keys down on the counter, stepping out of his shoes. “Y/n?” He calls, concern laced in his voice.

“Over here!” I respond in turn, yawning and stretching a bit. Jean’s footsteps make the apartment vibrate. He’s not heavy, but the infrastructure isn’t immune to jiggle physics. He turns the concern and I can see the wrinkles forming in real time, all because of me. Then, I can see flowers and a card. “Baby!” I exclaim in surprise, “Is that for me?”

He smiles, and he’s no longer aged by seven years. “I couldn’t come home to my girl empty-handed now, could I? How are you feeling?” He sets the flowers down on the bed, along with the card, and gathers me into a gentle hug, kissing me on the cheek.

“Babe,” I argue, “Don’t, you’ll get sick.”

“And get to take time off to spend with the most beautiful person in the world? Sounds great to me.” He grins when I roll my eyes, then asks, “Did you stay in bed all day?”

I nod. “Yea, I felt pretty shitty. No throwing up aside from the one time, though. Oh! And guess what? According to Sasha’s mom, somebody’s pregnant. The fish in her dreams told her so.”

He meets my eyes with a knowing look, his smile ever-present. “I am taking this so seriously right now, I swear. And who did we hear this fish dream news from?”

“Connie, who dared to wake me from my slumber.” I sigh, sitting up in the bed so I can be on eye-level with Jean.

Jean says, “I see, I see. Sounds like indisputable fact, if you ask me.”

“No, babe. We’re asking the dream fish.”

He laughs, and I laugh with him. “Okay, enough bullying people for being superstitious. You need some water, and soft foods. You probably haven’t eaten all day, have you?” I shake my head no. Jean says, “Well, I’m not Chef Niccolo, but I can make something pretty saucy. I’ll see what I can manage.”

“Do we have…” I start, but trail off, realizing it was a stupid question. Of course we wouldn’t have Kraft mac and cheese. “Nevermind.” I say with a smile at Jean as he looks at me inquisitively.

Fifteen minutes later, he brings me a bowl of noodles with shredded chicken in it. “Is this alright?” He asks me, and I can see he genuinely is worried I won’t like it.

I smile gratefully at him. “Of course, thank you baby. You don’t have to worry about me, the nausea seems to be the worst of it.” I feel a twinge in my stomach looking at the food, but I know it’s just me being finicky because I’m sick. I have to eat something if I want to get better.

He pats my back. “All right, I’m gonna hop in the shower. The door’s unlocked if you need anything, as per usual.” He kisses my forehead, then leaves me to handle business.

When he’s out of sight, I stare at my food like it’s insulting me. My stomach feels like it’s doing flips, and I would rather go back to sleep, but I know if I don’t eat anything, Jean will freak. His mom used to get sick all the time — bad immune system — so now, after everything I’ve been through, he watches over me like a mother hen.

And what is it that I’ve been through? Well… a miscarriage. And an eating disorder. It was for the better that the miscarriage happened, because neither of us were ready for a kid, but it was grueling. I only found out I was pregnant because of the miscarriage, and it left me even more physically and emotionally drained than I already had been for the month before. It explained the nausea, and the inability to eat most foods, but after the miscarriage, I continued being unable to eat. I lost a lot of weight, and when I finally went to the doctor’s office, they recommended I start eating protein bars to regain what I’d lost. I did, and I haven’t lost the weight again since then, but Jean fusses over me, because he knows my eating disorder is a daily battle, not one that just goes away. I tell him not to worry, that as long as I’m keeping my current weight then we have nothing to worry about, but it’s like talking to a brick wall. Or, for accuracy’s sake, it’s like talking to a magical brick wall that finds the most anxiety-inducing message in all of your words and echoes that back to you.

The miscarriage and the events after it happened years ago, but I remember it like yesterday, and so does Jean. Every now and then, we whisper to each other at night, talking about what might have happened if I hadn’t miscarried.

I don’t know why I’m thinking about all of this right now. Maybe it’s because the nausea I’m feeling now reminds me of back then. I shake my head, clearing my thoughts, then mentally prepare myself to take a bite of food. I stab the fork into my noodles and twist, twist, twist, until I have a reasonable lump of noodles around my fork, ready to be eaten. I lift it up into my mouth, and when I smell the noodles… it’s over.

I throw my fork down, quickly setting my bowl down on the nightstand and run to the bathroom faster than the speed of light. I nearly slam the door open, and start puking as soon as the toilet seat and lid are propped up. I hear Jean pull back the shower curtain as I heave, splatters of liquid and mush landing in the toilet. The room is already steamed up – he loves hot showers. We both do, to be fair. “Babe? Are you okay?” He asks me, and it takes literally everything in me to not snap at him and say that I’m obviously not okay.

I give him a thumbs up. “I don’t know why, but just smelling the food made me nauseous. What was the expiration date on the canned chicken?”

As water trickles down his bare chest, sculpted abs dividing my attention, Jean says, “I just bought that on Saturday. No way it’s expired. If you can’t eat, why don’t you try taking a shower? You’ve been in sick clothes all day.” I put the lid down and flush the toilet, slowly nodding as I stand up. I strip down, joining him in the spray as he holds his hand out for me to take. Always the gentleman. I’m sandwiched between him and the warm water, and I sigh, feeling some relief for once. He slides his hands around my waist, kissing my cheek and leaning his head against mine, sighing with me. “I’m sorry you’re so sick, baby.”

I turn around to face him, the water hitting my backside as I wrap my arms around his neck, looking up at him. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.” I get up on my tip-toes to kiss him, and where nausea once was in my stomach, a fire suddenly rages – a fire of want, of desperate need. I close my eyes, deepening the kiss and pressing my body against his. “Baby.” I pant out, reaching down for his member as I feel the slick growing between my thighs.

He grunts, stopping the kiss and holding my arms, stepping away. “Not right now, y/n. You’re sick. It would just make you worse. Let’s wait until you’re feeling better, yea?” I hadn’t actually touched him yet, but I can already see that he’s clearly aroused.

I frown to myself. I’m disappointed, but he’s right. “Yea, right. Sorry.” I don’t know what came over me in that moment, but right now, I feel riled up for no apparent reason. What is happening to me?

We finish our shower, and he grabs out the silkiest pair of pajamas for me, helping me dry off and put them on before helping me into bed, and I note he removed the offending food from the area. I don’t know how I managed to meet someone as kind as him. “Hey,” He asks me, “Weren’t you supposed to start your period a few days ago?”

I think to myself, then nod in confirmation. “I think I was. No big deal, though. I’d probably be miserable if I had to deal with that and this at the same time.” He looks deep in thought. “What is it?” I ask him.

He shakes his head. “I’m just worried about you, is all. Why don’t you get some sleep and I’ll run to the store to get some hot cocoa for you to try?” Hot cocoa sounds delicious right now, I’ll give him that. It’s not usually something I crave, but maybe some sugar is just the thing I need after all of this bullshit.

I smile, then lay back in bed. “Okay, baby. See you then.”

When I wake up, it’s to Jean sitting at my feet, holding some kind of stick in his hand, eyes wide in shock, jaw completely slack. I look to my right and spot two mugs of cocoa sitting on my nightstand, one half-drunk. “Baby? What is it?” I ask him, unable to push myself up.

“I… I… I didn’t think… I only had an inkling of a hunch as to what it might be, but…” He stammers, more to himself than to me.

I sigh forcefully. “Jean. Baby. What is it?”

“Baby.” He says.

“Yes, I’m listening, Jean,” I reply, a bit annoyed that he isn’t listening. It’s not like him. “What is it?” I ask again, with more emphasis.

“A baby.” He says, and when he lifts up his hand to show me, I realize he’s holding not one, not two, but three pregnancy tests. And they all are positive. “You forgot to flush the toilet when you peed after getting out of the shower.”

Now, my face matches his. “What???” I say, suddenly jolting up into a sitting position, but not without a wave of nausea rolling over me. “I… what are we gonna do?” I say, panic setting in.

Jean answers, “We’re gonna do what you want to do, of course.” He leans over, setting the tests down on my nightstand and grabbing my hand, squeezing it. “If you don’t feel ready…”

“I–” I cut myself off when I feel my lip wobble. Tears suddenly well up in my eyes, and I fight the urge to let them loose. “Jean, I can’t.” I see the disappointment in his eyes, and I start to cry. “I can’t lose another one, Jean, I can’t. Please.”

He pauses, taken aback, but quickly hugs me to comfort me. “Oh, y/n, don’t cry, don’t cry. I’m an idiot, I thought you were saying ‘I can’t’ as in, you couldn’t keep it, I’m an idiot, ignore my initial reaction.”

I sniffle and wipe my eyes. “Wait…” I ask, “You mean you would rather me keep it?”

Jean laughs, and I almost puke from the vibrations alone, but I don’t care right now. “Yes, yes, I absolutely would rather you keep it, but I’ll support you either way.”

I start crying even more. “Oh, thank God, thank God, I thought…”

Jean pulls back slightly, but only to place kiss upon kiss all over my face. He pauses, looking me in the eye. “Put that thought away. It doesn’t have any place here.” He then places his arm behind my back, laying me back down on the bed. He starts unbuttoning my pajama top, just a few buttons from the waist up. He kisses my stomach, right below my belly button. “Hey, baby.” He whispers against my abdomen, and I lightly push him away with my arms.

“Baby. As cute as that is, please don’t. The vibrations make me nauseous.” I smile tiredly, but beckon him to lay next to me. He happily joins me, throwing an arm over my stomach and sliding under the covers.

Quietly, he says, “How does the cocoa smell?”

“Good.” I whisper.

He chuckles. “My mom said she liked that when she was pregnant with me.”

Sassily, I say, “Oh, so the baby has your taste, does he?”

And he says, “Possibly. Is it selfish of me to want them to be a girl? I’d love to have two of you around here. Plus, then Connie won’t try to make me name them after him in honor of him being the first one to share the news of your pregnancy.”

I roll my eyes. “Right, the fish gods.”

“I thought they were dream fish?”

“Same shit.” I scoff. “Can we just… never tell him?”

Jean hums. “Mmm… unfortunately, that might be a little suspect. We have to tell my mom first, anyways. Gramas always have seniority. Want me to wait a bit?”

I respond, “Maybe for a week, that way you can say I got you sick and you can’t go into work.”

Jean groans. “Babe, how are you so hot, so smart, and so pregnant with my kid, all at once? I feel so lucky right now.” He kisses my collar bone, laying back beside me like I’ve knocked him out with my grand idea.

I laugh, hand resting on my stomach. “You’re an idiot, Jean.”

“Just a fool in love,” He says, “Thinking about cashmere blankets and cedarwood cradles.”

#outsider writes #fanfiction #fanfic #attack on titan #AOT #Jean Kierstein #jean kierstein x reader #pregnant!reader #TW!pregnancy #TW!miscarriage #TW!EDmention #fluff #TW!puking #slight angst #near-smutty moment

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villians-r-hot · 2 years

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Through Sickness

Word count: 1,271

This is just a fluff Arthur Harrow xReader fic / The reader gets sick and misses work so Arthur checks in on her

Warnings: none <3

You’ve been a part of Harrow’s following for a couple years now. During that time, you’ve risen in the ranks of the following and grown close to Arthur. Now you were almost acting as his right hand man; handling the organization of his different villages and groups around the world. It kept you very busy and you were always scared of falling behind on your work.

It was autumn, just turning into winter and you had stayed in the main village in the Alps for a few months now. Arthur usually spends his time here and only travels to his other groups for a week or two at a time. You were in your office trying to balance out the expenses for the villages when you noticed your throat was hurting. Thinking it was just changes in temperatures, you just made some tea and continued to work.

By dinner time, your nose had started to run and you had begun to cough. It wasn’t a bad cough, just once or twice every few minutes. Still not thinking anything of it, you went to the village’s dinner and met with Arthur. You and the other village higher-ups ate together with Arthur to go over work for the next day. You were still coughing, which some people noticed, including Arthur. At one point in the meal he leaned toward you and asked in a low voice, “Are you feeling alright my dear?”

You just nodded your head, not being able to respond right then because of the coughing. He didn’t seem convinced and had a concerned look on his face. He handed you a glass of water and added, “If you need to rest, you should go to bed early tonight.” Since you still weren’t over the coughing fit, you left the table with your meal uneaten and walked to the apartment where you lived. After taking a shower and drinking more tea, the coughing had gotten worse and now you had a headache.

Typically, headaches get bad for you, often turning into migraines if you don't take your medicine. You made sure to take your migraine medicine and some Tylenol for the coughing and sore throat. After getting everything ready to go to sleep, you turned out the lights and got in bed. You slept soundly until around 4am when your coughing woke you up. It was almost constant coughing, making your head throb.

You stumbled into your kitchen where you grabbed all the medicine you needed and a big bottle of water. After taking more medicine, you got into bed again and tried to go back to sleep. You woke back up at 7am and felt awful. Around this time, you were supposed to get ready for breakfast but with the migraine that had formed last night (despite the medicine) and the coughing, you weren’t able to get out of bed.

You grabbed your phone and texted Arthur saying that you were taking the day off. He responded, “Are you ok? Is this about the coughing last night?” You told him that it was and to not worry, it should go away in a few hours. However, it kept you in bed until it was past lunchtime and you couldn’t hardly move to get water anymore. Around 2pm, you heard a knock on your apartment door. There was no way you could yell to ask who it was so you just laid there. Eventually, you hear the lock being turned and the door opening.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N)? Where are you?” Arthur walked in the front door and began looking around the apartment. He sounded pretty concerned, but you couldn’t even raise your voice to let him know where you were because of the migraine. The tapping of his cane stopped in front of your bedroom. Seeing you under the covers he asked, “(Y/N), Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” you croaked out in between coughs.

He stepped in the room holding your spare key to the apartment. He circled to the side of the bed you were facing and paused. “Oh, (Y/N) why didn’t you tell me it was this bad? I came to check on you because you weren’t answering my texts.” You laid there looking up at him, unable to say much of anything. He came closer to you and put his hand on your forehead, checking your temperature. He sucked in his breath and moved his hand to gently caress your cheek. He sighed, “Oh sweetheart.” Your eyes began to water because of the light coming in through your windows.

“Light,” you whispered pointing at the windows. He turned around to look at the windows and understood immediately. He walked to your black-out curtains and closed them tightly, putting the room into darkness. He sat down on the edge of your bed, “I brought you food because you didn't eat anything last night and the cooks said you hadn’t ordered anything to your apartment all day.” He opened up the bag he had with him and brought out your favorite kind of soup with a spoon.

“Are you hungry (Y/N)?” he asked. You nodded slowly, just now realizing you hadn’t eaten for almost 24 hours. “Here, I’ll help you,” he said. He leaned over you and gently held you under your arms and pulled you up into a sitting position. You groaned slightly as your head moved into a different position. “It’s alright (Y/N), the pain will only last a couple minutes,” he soothed while getting extra pillows to make you comfortable. You held up a tissue and coughed again weakly.

“I’m so sorry you feel this bad (Y/N), if I could make it better I would.” He opened up the tupperware with soup and brought out the spoon. “Are you sure you're up for this?” he asked. You nodded looking him in his eyes. He dipped the spoon in the soup and brought it to your mouth. You ate the soup, relishing the warmth and comfort that was brought to your throat. After you finished, he did the same thing with your water. He also had you take more medicine with that water.

“Now (Y/N), I’m going to go get more food but you should try and get some rest. After I get back, I won’t leave your side until you're better.” Feeling a bit better already from the soup, you tried to protest thinking you’d be a nuisance, but he wouldn’t hear it. “Nuh uh uh, I care about you deeply and couldn’t stand to leave you when you feel like this.” And he didn’t. Arthur stayed in your apartment for the next two days while you recovered, dutifully helping you eat, drink, and take your medication. He also helped you get to and from the bathroom, even washing and drying your hair one night. Arthur also read to you to help you sleep and told you stories from his past.

After two days of rest, you were able to return to work and return to community meals. But you had to admit, you were already starting to miss the time together with Arthur. He had made you feel safe and cared for. Three days later, you were sitting at your desk in your office when the door opened. You looked up and saw Arthur carrying two tupperwares with food. He was smiling slightly when he said, “I brought lunch. I thought we could eat together…alone. I’ve missed that over the past few days.”

You simply smiled as you walked around your desk to sit with him in your office.

#arthur harrow #arthur harrow x reader #y/n #ethan hawke #moon knight #fluff

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threadmonster · 4 months

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So at work the attendance policy is absolute shit, right? I'm thinking I'll start saying that to people. They'll ask how I'm doing and the answer will be like "oh, I'm fine, took Tylenol for a fever and I'm here" or "had trouble driving in today, slept awful, but hey I made it safe!" or "I woke up with this migraine, I apologize I'm struggling to focus" and then say a bunch of stuff wrong.

My coworker came to work while being completely unable to talk even though we literally have to talk in order to do our jobs. Meanwhile our boss stayed home for sinus problems at least 10 times since November ¯⁠\⁠_⁠ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ⁠_⁠/⁠¯

He can just sit in an office by himself and not interact with people. So I think this is warranted, actually!

#{domino talks}#it is too early for my bullshit but here we are i guess

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marvelingjules · 7 months

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So I started to get a really bad migraine yesterday afternoon, and even after eating (I made potato soup! From scratch!) dinner it was killer. The lights made it awful, noise wasn’t the worst but not great. So I sent myself to bed before even 8pm. I turned out the lights, changed into pajamas, lit a small candle with a subtle scent, and curled under the blankets.

I was out, fast.

I woke up two or three times - mostly thirsty as hell and wanting water - and slept in until 9:30 this morning.

Then this afternoon, for a couple hours, I slept again.

I’m feeling better, no more migraine, but damn it clearly kicked my ass.

#Jules rambles #it has put me back on my writing too; my Bang fic is due Thursday!!!

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ih8tel1f3 · 7 months

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Was honestly going to kms if I had to go in today I’m in so much pain and I’m having such a shit mental health day I woke up and immediately started crying both because of the extreme migraine I have, the fact I’ve bitten a chunk of my lip off and it KILLS, I haven’t slept at all which has made the headache worse, and because I HATE going to school so bad

Luckily my mum woke up in a decent mood and said I could stay off from school, love her when she’s not awful 🤍

#st⭐️rve #th!nspo #tw s3lf harm

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nerendus · 10 months

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Only slept for about 2 hours today (thirty minutes at 7AM, an hour at 8PM due to vision blurrying) and I woke up to an awful migraine and nausea (because of the vision blurrying) and now I feel too bad to fall back asleep though I am incredibly tired. God, please give me your easiest battles. I'd rather kill my nonexistent son than deal with this.

#texts from the underbrush

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stardustedknuckles · 2 years

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I finally checked reddit for silent migraines and holy shit, yeah. This is exactly it. I ate soy yesterday and two hours later tha panic started, the weird waves of "something is horribly wrong," and when those passed and I drove home, it was dark and all of the car lights I passed felt like...you know those gifs you can hear? They're silent because they're gifs but you "hear" the impacts. That's what the lights were doing but it was touch. It's not a physical feeling but also the lights were touching my eyeballs.

I slept like the dead with a hydroxyzine (those usually only keep me asleep for the 4 hours they work) and I woke up dog tired still, even though I got good long sleep. And today the pressure in my head has just been mounting and mounting...there's a storm coming this evening and the temperature is going to go from 75 to 37 overnight in its wake. Soy/tyramine and barometric pressure - two major triggers in traditional migraines.

That's got to be it and I'm working on getting into neuro, but what the FUCK do I do with all of these symptoms until then. This is awful.

#my vision is also compromised but I couldn't tell you how #I can't perceive it directly #someone posted a visual of what their vision looks like and the dread it pulled up in me was real #it like...echoed in my own skull and feels like i took it on somehow #i have all the lights off in my room and the computer brightness down low #just - holy shit this makes so much sense please get me away from it #WAIT #how much of my storm anxiety most of my life has actually been migraines?#or at least how much of that was anxiety exacerbated by them?#chronic-les #i don't think T is causing them #I do think coming off my adhd meds is making them realer #stimulants are shown to be fairly effective in treating migraines and I was on them for three years #when symptoms started to get bad it was always at night when they wore off

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bishiglomper · 2 years

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Today is super miserable I dont even.

I've decided caffeine isnt as big of a factor as i thought it was when I end up staying up late fixating on art because i didnt have caffeine other than a bottle of store bought tea as opposed to the decaf I make at home. I went to bed at 7am. And hardly slept for 3 hours before I whined at mom who had me take a full muscle relaxant.. I remember rolling over at some point and thinking "yes.. this is just enough." It took until 8pm for that overtired, over caffeinated exhaustion to wear off and actually feel like i got some actual sleep. And the whole night I was burping up awful things. Woke up with mild vertigo. Within 15 minutes of being awake and just chatting with mom, all my check engine lights were flashing. By the time I left I was all hunched and miserable. And i had just been sitting on her bed. Like c'mon.. Why does just being conscious make my body fall apart?

Several areas in my guts are unhappy but only half of them want pressure. The other half muchly do not. 😒 I cannot get comfy..

I took my prescription migraine drugs but all its done so far is trade the burning for pressure. 😣

Why does my body have to be so frickin dysfunctional I stg

#just whining #wahh

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killbaned · 1 month

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well! we may not want to hear this besties but sometimes. when the thought of doing tasks is making you horrifically anxious to the point of shutting down, the only thing to do...are the fucking tasks!

i slept badly. fell asleep about two am woke up a bit before six bc of The Horrors. couldn't get back to sleep bc of my guts keeping me awake. finally won a battle with the demons. realized i'd still likely be awake for another hour or two anyway before being able to settle back to sleep and the whole time i was just. getting upset because i'm tired i feel awful i have all these things to do because i made a specific set of plans for how to maximize tasks vs rest while i'm off these days.

so i figured. well. i managed a nine hour shift saturday feeling bad like this and a seven hour shift sunday feeling worse. i can manage a few hours of less intensive tasks.

i did laundry, i cleaned out the fridge, collected the trash and took it to the dumpster. put the dirty dishes from my pasta yesterday in the dishwasher along w the dirty stuff from the fridge. ran the dishwasher. wiped down the sinks and counters. i took the dogs in to get their nails done which was the big thing i was worried about bc their yearly shots expire tomorrow. i had the adhd time sink of "i have like two months to take a day off for their shots" and that was. two months ago. oops. i found out i DON'T need a bordatella shot to get them bathed so i am treating myself and paying someone else to wash the dogs! now i don't have to do that task tomorrow!! this is huge bc the chihuahua is fine i can do him in the sink no problem but rufus is too big and has to be done in the tub and it's suffering badly. it's a lot of work and strain and it means if i'm bathing him that is the ONLY task i'm doing that day.

i also stopped at the store, got a few things i needed. i checked mom's email to make sure i haven't missed anything from dcf (i have not which. L. can i get the food money back please-). i checked MY email and remembered to contact my dental ins company about the oopsie daisy with that.

literally i have done what i thought was going to be two days worth of tasks in the span of about four hours. do i feel better physically? no! i'm still tired, my guts are still bad, i'm getting a migraine i'm gonna have to cave and take meds for.

do i feel better mentally, like perhaps when i bring the dogs back i'll be able to settle in and settle down and actually relax without being plagued by the thoughts of All The Things Needing Done?

absolutely.

#goblin shenanigans.txt #which! on that note! groomer called! ding dogs are clean!

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jen-co · 2 years

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Are you happy you had a child? How does yours and your husband's family feel about it?

Yeah I am. I'm not a happy PERSON because of my mental and physical health. I'm very anxious and I experience continuous dizziness, severe fatigue that sleep doesn't affect, pain etc. It makes life really difficult to be lacking energy and feel sick all the time no matter what you do. Like having an epic hangover every day, or trying to get over the flu. It sucks, I hate it, it's bullshit, it makes me cry. I hate having autism/ADHD and OCD. I just want to be calm and feel normal. So, things are hard but they'd be hard if I didn't have a baby. Butttt having a baby makes the days harder and I desperately always want to lie down and can't do that when I want/need to.

The pregnancy was traumatic (false positive NIPT, amniocentesis, gestational diabetes, preeclampsia) and the birth was horrible. Induction at 38 weeks, sprung on me at a routine checkup, lasted 3 days, and my body responded super strong to the synthetic oxytocin so my pain was unbearable during labour. I never wanted an epidural because I'm terrified of nerve damage, needles, cathetres, baby getting stuck, increased risks etc - but I honestly felt like I'd rather die than keep going through that unmedicated. The anaesthetists told me I have scoliosis as they were trying to get it in (which took 45 mins) and said that can increase risk of nerve damage. I said just do it. Ughhh. One poked around for ages and then called a senior one in. I was so scared. Then I had tearing which took forever to heal which is still causing problems, among other things.

Then I struggled with severe mental health breakdown and wasn't feeling connected to my baby. Going through all of that for an unplanned pregnancy was just too much. I was so sleep deprived as well, I slept 45 mins in 5 days at one point and I got so scared because I lost the ability to control my eyes for a few minutes here and there, like I couldn't blink or look somewhere. Along with non stop migraine and massive auras, I thought I was having a stroke. Then I made the mistake of looking at my vagina and stitches and I was an absolute mess. It was just... traumatic and so many changes to adjust to overnight. I knew I wouldn't cope well with it but I just couldn't anticipate how dark that could feel after you've had a baby. I went pretty loopy and believed I wasn't female anymore, that my vagina was gone, that I had severe prolapses (they say it's just normal tissue), that the baby might not be mine and was swapped at birth, that I was going to die from the preeclampsia, that I WANT to die from the preeclampsia, that my whole life is over and body is destroyed. It was like the reaction someone would have if they woke up from an accident and were told they're going to be paralysed for life. I was just so... off the deep end. I still have obsessions but I'm living my life despite them, whereas in those early weeks, I was just like, no, I should have died during the birth, I can't be here. I was at high risk of PPA/PDD and higher than average risk of post partum psychosis but the preeclampsia was also messing with my brain, I think. The migraines were debilitating and my body wasn't functioning properly, my liver was messed up. I think the preeclampsia was starting to seriously affect my brain function. Plus the sudden hormone drop, breastfeeding, being on blood pressure meds that were making me sick and making me pass out, anticoagulant injections every day (omgosh they were so painful, I had to get Dan to do them for me in the end)... it was not a good combination haha.

We're doing better now but I'm still very anxious. My connection with him is very strong and I love him very much. On good days, when he eats and sleeps well, I just feel so proud of him and so in awe of him existing. On bad days, I'm like... aaargh how long until you start going to school for the day?? Haha.

Dan helps me when he's home from work, so long as he's not doing split shifts, then he tends to nap in between. He does a night feed when he'll be home in the morning, plays with him, takes him on walks etc. He's a great dad and so helpful and loving. He does the morning shift with the baby on his days off so I can sleep in.

Our baby Noah is just so adorable and I have this weird feeling that I didn't have before... kinda like.. mehhh if my body's all messed up and I die tomorrow, at least I had love and at least we made Noah. Haha. I tend to obsess over my body functions and health, the meaning of life, my emotions, spirituality, so having Noah kinda makes me able to accept that my peak time and good health is over and I'm passing the torch on to another human being. Does that sound weird or morbid? I've just spent years trying to regain what was taken from me and haven't been able to accept being mentally or physically ill and fought it non stop. I still do but Noah makes it so that it's just not the only stuff that matters anymore.

I think he's really smart, he's 5.5 months and says hi and hello, he's really cheeky and expressing lots of emotions, he's now learning who mum and dad are and he cries when strangers try to closely interact with him and reaches for me, he knows when something seems weird or not right, he's very responsive, he can be bossy already haha. He turns the pages of a book to look at the pictures, he can put a spoon in his own mouth, he's got a sense of humour and thinks it's hilarious to watch me on the toilet for some reason.

We love him so much but my God, I wpuld never ever ever ever EVER do any of it again. Nope nope nope nope, quick, arrange a vasectomy because shop is CLOSED.

Our families are really happy since I'm an only child and Dan's the only obe out of his brothers that is in a relationship and has a child, so the only grandchild of both of our parents. My grandma is also really happy about it. We lost my grandad while I was pregnant so it's good to have her come over and spend time with him. My mum is thrilled with being a grandma, so is Dan's.

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bush-viper-cutie · 4 years

Text

Surviving – DAY 2

Pairing: Just Snape

Word Count: 3,488

Rating: M for Mature

Plot: Severus works to get his life in order, trying to be independent for the first time in his life.

Warnings: Substance abuse, violence

A/N: Day two! “Poisoned” prompt from snapetober! HAPPY SPOOKTOBER! >:D

Posted: 10/2/20

Masterlist

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Diagon Alley was surprisingly packed with wizards so early Wednesday morning. When he’d made the appointment, he thought it’d be the perfect time. Who on Merlin’s earth would be up at seven on a Wednesday when work normally started several hours later? He was even more surprised to see all the shops open.

Maybe they stayed open all night? But then when would the shop owners sleep… Though of course even I’ve used WideEye to stay awake for days on end. He thought about the sudden crash he’d had during transfigurations and shuddered. Never again would he use it for eight days straight.

He pulled the hood up on his cloak – yes the very one from school, though he’d ripped the bloody Hogwarts crest clean off the second he graduated. No need to get rid of a perfectly good cloak. He learned that from his mother. One of the many, and yet few, things he’d learned from her.

He walked along the cobbled streets, keeping his head down and concentrating on his walk, and turned a corner leading down a twisting alleyway. Knockturn Alley, where his appointment was being held. He leaned on a curved metal post, looking for the ‘Man in the Red Witch Hat’, as his friends called him.

The Man in the Red Witch Hat was having a special, about fifty to sixty percent off his usual seeds depending on how well he liked you. Severus didn’t have a big budget, he had never had enough to save during his school days and the job he had now paid in warm meals and a roof over his head, but the tips were fine enough.

He normally hated shops, and working in one was a nightmare. He hated talking to people. The way they sneered at him. As if those bastards looked any better. It wasn’t his fault his personal upkeep had gotten worse since graduation. He’s been wearing the same clothes – washes them in the sink every Sunday – and hasn’t bother to cut or even comb his hair. Of course it doesn’t matter what he looked like working in the shop, all he had to do was sweep and prepare pots and dust off roots. Occasionally he’d have to make a home delivery – which is where the tips came in – but that was it.

There he is. Severus spotted the red witch hat across the street. The man was tall and made the brim covered his eyes. They were already in a shady alley, and yet the fact the man was acting even shadier gave him a giddy type of excitement. He must have some bottles too.

He peeled himself from the post and joined the few weary wizards walking the opposite direction before making a complete turn and walking back, trying not to draw too much attention to the man as instructed. As he approached, the man ducked between two shops and Severus had to squeeze in just to follow.

Severus didn’t have broad shoulders and had an annoyingly slender and lanky figure which made him even more confused due to the fact that he was having trouble reaching the end when the broad shouldered man seemed to be gliding down just fine. He popped out the other end into a small room-like area with trashcans and crates all around. The man turned and Severus tried not to appear shocked.

The Man in the Red Witch Hat was a boy no older than himself, maybe nineteen at the most. His cloak had some obvious padding up close. Is he supposed to be intimidating?

“I’ve got what you want… and more.”

“More?” Severus smiled wickedly, gripping the coins in his trousers. He knew Avery – and especially Mulciber – would go ballistic when he came back with more than just the seeds. Especially if what was in the bottles could lead to some extreme brews.

The guy pulled a case out of the air and opened it, exposing hundreds of little bottles with powders, wings, stones, gems, liquids, ooze, glowing lights, and hairs. It was a treasure-trove of Ministry-banned potions ingredients. The guy held up a purple pouch of what he assumed to be the seeds he’d owled him about.

“That’ll be forty.” The man smiled and bounced the pouch around.

Severus tried not to smile, knowing he’d lowered the price below the agreed upon amount in order to entice him to buy a little extra. He pulled out the coins and traded for the pouch, tucking it into his other pocket.

“Right. How much then.” Severus hated the smile that pulled on the guy’s face. He hated giving him the impression his little ruse had worked. It hadn’t. He’d figured it out. There was nothing ‘smart’ about him or his business practices.

“Fifty per bottle – that’s already on discount so don’t try bartering.”

Severus frowned. The bottles were tiny, about the width and length of his pinky fully extended. He pulled his face in closer for a better look at his wares.

“Don’t smudge the glass,” the guy mumbled.

He gave him a side-glare and pulled back a bit, inspecting each label and their contents. He picked two – he couldn’t afford any more – and gave him the last of his coins, leaving himself only two Knuts in his pockets.

The guy closed up his case immediately upon receiving the payment, pulled out his wand, and disappeared where he stood. Severus turned and squeezed back out the small alley onto the twisting street. He walked into the closest shop and took out his bag of Floo powder, just enough to make it back to Avery’s place.

~ * ~ * ~

They were waiting for him by the kitchen, hexing knives to fling themselves towards Avery’s cat. Severus stepped out of the fireplace and coughed multiple times, trying to clear his lungs. They turned and waited. He pulled out the pouch and they cheered, sending extra knives out of their drawers. He stepped over the trembling cat and placed the two bottles on the counter, raising his eyebrows in victory.

“You’ve got more!” Avery laughed and smacked the counter next to the bottles, making Severus jump with momentary panic.

“Ha! I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist!” Mulciber shoved his shoulder and stood, taking down three cauldrons. “How much we got left?”

They’d been brewing Mulciber’s special recipe for several weeks now, trying to get it just right to allow for the very peak of its effects to last longer. When they’d started, the recipe was atrocious, but with a little effort, he’d gotten it nearly perfect, or so they told him. He always refused to taste any of his own brews, knowing he couldn’t afford whatever addiction could occur from the wrong batch.

“Enough. We don’t need much of the powder per cauldron full. We could make real money with this.” Severus smiled. He could finally start saving.

“Then start it Sev. I’ll owl Lucius, see if he can get his friends together by this weekend.” Avery left up the stairs to his owl.

Mulciber laid on the living room carpet as Severus started, stretching out so his feet touched the kitchen counter and his hands touched the fireplace. He always refused to use the couch, which was the length of the whole room, and decided he liked tormenting the cat that hid under it better.

Within days the brew was made and Avery and Mulciber were laying on the only floor space of the whole ground floor, mumbling to themselves. Their eyes were glazed over and occasionally their mumblings would get loud and shaky. They always looked to be in pain to him, but when they came out of it they said it was the greatest happiness they’d ever felt in their lives.

That was another reason why Severus didn’t want to try it. He was done with happiness. Forever.

~ * ~ * ~

The meeting with Lucius had gone fine. He’d brought his friends – or so he called them, though it never felt like he liked them very much – and several of them had tasted the potion and been knocked out for hours. It was then that Lucius had pulled him aside. They’d gone up to Avery’s bed and Lucius had told him the men downstairs were part of ‘the cause’ and that he had joined them last month. That was Lucius’ way of saying there was a pack of Death Eaters in the house just down the stairs.

Severus had been showed the official Dark Mark on his arm, and Lucius had told him what it was like to be one of them. The power. The influence. People did what he told them to do and several Ministry officials backed him up. He had recognition beyond just the Malfoy name.

“If I want a promotion in the Ministry, all I have to do is ask for it. They fear me... Severus. You want that power too. I know you do.” Lucius had stood by the window, looking out with his cane held in his gloved hands. “Why are you so afraid to take it?”

“I want it,” he’d whispered. “I want to be taken seriously… I’m tired of being cast aside! I’m not rubbish, I’m not worthless. I deserve – ”

“To be accepted.” Lucius had known exactly what to say.

~ * ~ * ~

He carried thirty thumb-sized bottles in his cloak pockets. Five of Mulciber’s recipe and the rest were all of what Lucius had told him to brew. He walked into Hogshead and sat at a back-corner table, taking out last week’s daily prophet and hid behind it, keeping his hood up.

Every ten minutes someone cloaked would walk in and sit across from him. They’d ask about a headline and depending on the one, Severus would pull out a bottle. They’d slip the money under the paper and he’d slip them the bottle, never seeing the hooded figure again. He did that for months. Any time he didn’t spend at his job he spent brewing and bottling and selling on the weekends. He made enough money every week to afford a house like Avery’s, down by the edge of the village, but he never kept any of it, not even the money from Mulciber’s recipe. Every week Lucius would come down to his place and collect.

After a long day of selling, Severus packed up and left the shady pub.

Lucius knocked loudly on the door just up the stairs behind the shop, making Severus jump. This wasn’t a day he was expecting him, but he was excited to see him nonetheless. He pulled open the door and smiled, welcoming him in.

“Severus. How are you?” Lucius entered, cane swinging on his right hand. He stood taller and seemed to demand more attention than normal. “I’ve come by early to deliver a message.”

Severus closed the door and dropped onto his bed, wincing as dust burst into the air. Lucius knew how poor he was, but the dust cloud seemed a bit over the top. “What message?”

Lucius stood beside the chair by the window and raised a brow. “You’re producing quite the funds for us… Severus, there are many impressed with your work.”

His heart fluttered at the praise. He bit his cheek, trying to keep from smiling and nodded lazily. “Yeah?”

Lucius chuckled. “You could be selling much more expensive things. So expensive you could actually keep a good amount and get out of this…” he looked around and sighed, never finishing his sentence. “You could live somewhere better suited to your needs. A place with an actual kitchen so you didn’t have to brew in your own bedroom.”

Severus pulled on some loose strings on his shirt, watching them zig apart and grow larger. He avoided his eyes, knowing what it would take to gain enough trust to be handed large amounts of the ingredients he was given to brew with. Lucius pulled up his sleeve and got on the bed with him, surprising him completely. Lucius hated touching anything in his place and avoided staying longer than he needed to.

“It’s a symbol. Severus. A symbol you’re a part of something.” The snake on Lucius’ skin almost shimmered, as if it was an image reflecting of water. They were both quiet, watching the dark eyes of the skull. “Is she still holding you back? Do you still expect to go back to being friends with – ”

Severus felt a flash of anger. He sat up and scoffed, staring into Lucius’ steady eyes. “What a stupid thing to say,” he spat.

Lucius pulled down his sleeve and stood, heading for the door. “Then I’ll leave you with the message and let you think on it.” The door opened on its own and he turned. “Just because we’ve all graduated school, doesn’t mean we don’t have your back.”

Severus squeezed his fists and heard the door shut. I’m not weak anymore.

~ * ~ * ~

Severus stuffed his hands in his pocket and shook them around, hearing the coins jingle and clink. He did that after every tip, loving the sound. It was like hearing freedom ring in his ears. Sometimes he thought about visiting home finally just to shove the shiny gold in his father’s face. That old fool would probably smell the ruddy pouch, try to inhale it for himself, desperate and pathetic. Sorry Da, looks like you were wrong. I don’t need you. I never did. You’re the poor stupid fool living in that house.

He hopped on the old broom and pushed off hard. The broom was so old it had small branches growing out the sides. He ripped all but two off, using them as handles. It took an hour to get back to the shop, but he used that time to relax. If he wasn’t asleep, then he was spending his whole day working or brewing. It was nice to get some peace every once in a while.

He arrived home just as the rain started to really pour and left the broom under the stairs, tied to the underside of a step with charmed twine the shop owner had given him. He pulled his hood down and climbed the stairs up in a rush, pushing his door open.

He shrugged his cloak off onto the floor and pushed the door with his foot, except it wouldn’t close all the way, staying ajar. He groaned and pushed on it with all his might. “Close!” He kicked it but it wouldn’t budge. He sighed and moved his only chair to lean up against the door, pushing it in place against the wind. It’ll do for now.

He pulled the bedsheet off and wrapped it around his shoulders, opening the top cupboard and took down a jar of pickles. The shop owner always brought him back food from the store when he went, but Severus had the sneaking suspicion that he was given cheap, almost expired food.

He dropped the lid and fell back on his bed. The loud groan that came from falling back on it no longer scared him. He’d thrown himself onto the bed so often, sure that the bed would break, that he hardly noticed it anymore, knowing that it likely could not be broken, not with his own weight.

He bit into a pickle and dropped it back in the juice, sucking on his fingers and wiping them on his trousers. He blurred his vision, going over the steps to one of the newer brews Lucius had handed him instructions for, when he felt a prick in the back of his throat.

It felt like a needle was sticking out inside his throat, poking into the walls of his flesh, stinging. He coughed, sitting up to produce more power but the needle multiplied. The needles stuck deep into his mouth and throat, making it painful to move. His hands scraped his tongue, trying to find the needles and pull them out but there was nothing but thick saliva.

When he pulled his fingers back, the tips had blue bulging veins. Poison. He was being poisoned. He fell out of bed, gasping for relief, feeling his muscles begin to tire, and dragged himself to the cabinets under the sink. He was half way down the small stretch of hardwood when the bathroom door opened and someone in a red witch’s hat stepped out.

“Good to see you again.”

Severus stopped, glaring up at him.

“It’s belixy poison. Slow acting, but painful.” The boy smacked his lips and rubbed his hands together. “Here’s the thing, friend – ” he opened up the drawers and cabinets, knocking everything Severus used for brewing potions to the ground. “My employer’s received word our supplier has a better deal. Thinkin’ ‘bout dropping us completely.”

Severus groaned, spitting his saliva out in an instinctual attempt to get the needles off his tongue.

“’Parrently those Death Eaters and their Dark Lord been making so much money off illegal brews with our Ministry-banned ingredients, they’re thinkin’ of expanding.” He kicked a cauldron out of his way and sat on the floor in front of him. “Been using some real nasty stuff on those Muggles in Glasgow, Manchester, Cardiff, and even my London?” He tisked.

Severus spit on his shoes.

“Dick’ead!” He smacked Severus’ head and pulled him up by the collar. “I’m tryin’ to talk to ya!”

Severus got on his knees, gripping onto his own collar as he was pulled up. He could feel his feet begin to numb and waited for the guy to let go. The second he did, ready to state his demands, Severus stuck his hand in his left pocket and pulled out his wand.

He held it up and rasped, “Confringo!”

A red light blasted from the tip of his wand and blew them back in a fiery explosion. Severus was flung back on his bed and rolled off quickly, getting to his feet as best he could. He couldn’t feel them, and the numbness was creeping up his shins now and up his hand as well.

He looked around at the flames scattered everywhere and hunched over to escape the accumulating smoke. He saw the guy had been blasted into the bathroom and heard him coughing. Severus turned and limped over to the chair, throwing it aside and swung the door open. He hobbled down the stairs and flung himself under them, hissing “Cave Inimicum!”

He whispered it over and over as he dragged himself under the bottom steps as the guy barreled down them, looking around wildly for him. He turned everywhere, and looked right passed him, unable to spot him through the boundary he cast, keeping him hidden. After a few minutes of digging around, the guy apparated away.

~ * ~ * ~

The numbness was up to his knees and elbows now. Severus dragged himself into the shop through the back door and crawled through the un-swept dirt on the ground. He flipped himself as he reached the back wall and looked up at the edge of the counter. There were a few leaves that just needed to be tipped into his mouth and the feeling would return to his limbs long enough for him to brew a cure.

He raised his wand and tried to flick, watching his hand twitch slightly. The leaves moved but looked like they were trapped under something. Severus slid sideways and did his best to lift his head, spotting a pot holding them down.

He lifted his wand again, falling back onto his back. “Circumrota,” he wheezed. The pot rotated and the leaves were pushed out from under it, falling gently to the floor. Severus moved onto his side and stuck his tongue out, licking the leaves into his mouth one by one and sucked on them until he could feel his toes.

~ * ~ * ~

After a grueling hour, his tongue no longer felt on fire, his gums no longer stung, and his throat didn’t feel like it was being pricked with every breath he took. He rubbed his neck and sat at the stool in the back of the shop, sobbing into his elbow. He gripped his wand with a trembling hand and tried his best to keep his shoulders from shaking so violently.

He felt vile. He was weak and pathetic and easy prey for the world. Why did I think things could get better? It wasn’t Hogwarts that made my life so horribly miserable. It’s me. I exist to be stepped on and beaten time and time again.

He pulled his chin to rest on his wrist, staring at a distant candle through blurry eyes. He sniffed and wiped his nose. He needed to find Lucius. He needed to join Avery and Mulciber. He needed them. He couldn’t survive on his own.

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

Masterlist

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Day 2 Prompt: Poisoned (snapetober day 2) + cave inimicum (Produces a boundary that keeps the caster hidden from others), confringo (produces a fiery explosion), and circumrota (Rotates objects)

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General Taglist:

@severuslovebot @bionic-otp

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#snapetober #severus snape #severus #snape #pro snape #young severus #young snape #snape fanfic #snape fanfiction #snape fan fiction #october 2020 #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction #young severus snape #avery and mulciber and snape #slept awful and woke with a migraine #but spooktober must go on!

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