#tw: nausea

[inkdrinkerworld]

Reader takes bc and experiences nausea and loss in appetite because of it

“Spencer I’m not taking it and you can’t force me.” It’s Sunday, a day that used to be your favourite but once a month when you get your period Sunday becomes the day you take your first birth control for the month and you’re plagued with almost immediate nausea.

“Angel,” he coos softly, stroking your hand as you lay pitifully in bed. Spencer knows it can’t feel good, he’s been nauseous before and it isn’t fun. It’s even less fun seeing you so pale and bleak and a little down as you try to get a handle on yourself again.

“No,” you shake your head, turning away from where he’s got the box and a bottle water extended to you. “Can’t I just skip this month?”

Spencer knows it’s bad, it’s terrible on the best of days. But he also knows how bad it is when you don’t take the pills.

He doesn’t know how to make it better, he isn’t a medical doctor but he’s spoken to your OBGYN and she’d said to stick it out till your next appointment.

Except, sticking it out gives you intense sickness, a loss in appetite most days and a craving for refreshing fruits- like watermelon and cucumbers- when you finally do want to eat, which isn’t substantial enough to take any of your medicine.

“You know you can’t, angel.” He sets the things down near your legs. Spencer’s hand coasts your forehead and cheek. “Remember this is a new brand, the nausea is normal. I know it doesn’t feel good, but it’ll help in the long run.”

You know he’s trying to help but right now you don’t give a damn about the long run.

“C’mon, beautiful.” He’s pulling out the big guns now. Stroking your chin and calling you beautiful like that; all head in the clouds, full of love with his big brown eyes. “There’s soda crackers too, and when you feel up to it we can go get whatever you’d like for breakfast, yeah?”

“Spence,” but he only stays silent, looking at you like you’ve put the stars in the sky individually. “Can we get bagels? I want egg, ham and cheese in mine.”

Spencer rewards you with a dazzling smile and drops a kiss to your forehead. “We can get that and fresh ones for the week, angel.” He sets the tablet in your hand and opens the water, rubbing your hair out of your face as you swallow.

“What happened to beautiful?” Spencer laughs, reaching for the green tin of crackers.

“Here you go beautiful,” you preen, taking three crackers and nibbling slowly. “Proud of you, know it’s annoying to deal with.”

You nod, laying back down on your pillow when you finish the crackers.

“Think they’ll ever stop giving me nausea?” You ask Spencer, suddenly shifting positions so you can lay your head in his lap.

“They say it’s only supposed to last for the first three months, all statistics point to that being true. But bodies are all different, it’s not a one size fits all, maybe it won’t happen this month, maybe it’ll persist. Medicine is tricky when you add hormones into the mix.”

It isn’t as reassuring as you’d wanted to hear, but you know Spencer will help you through all the nausea and mood swings as long as he’s home.

#spencerreid #spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x black reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x yn #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #tw: nausea

[suguru-getos]

i literally had the worst hangover ever oh my god i was awake at 5 am with a biting, scathing headache where i could feel millions of pins on my skull throb and stomp along with vomiting 🥰😍🥰😍 i took my migraine meds and and stared at the ground crouched up while my cat gave me company to deal with the unspeakable horrors i’m never drinking again, well — not whiskey at least 🥲

literally eating daal rice with a gallon of water to make it easy on my tummy

#wine my babygirl <3 #en rambles #tw: nausea #tw: headache #tw: hangover #tw: alcohol

[sortofanobsession]

For your presumed dead loving heart: Jaime is a no-show for training and not answering his phone, everyone is annoyed and Roy is pissed, until the police arrive asking help in identifying a body. Roy and Ted go and it's this whole ordeal thinking Jaime's dead, and being relieved it's not him. Meanwhile Jaime is alive but sunderground on the tubes with no service. When he finally gets to Richmond everyone is beside themselves, he's confused, Roy promptly grabs him and kisses him, chaos ensues.

A/N you guys love putting these guys through hell, don't you? And I am here for it! Love the drama. Love it all. Keep em coming! This one is a little shorter than most of the others but it's not the only one I plan to finish today. So, might have another post today. Not sure. Stay tuned.

Ao3

Ted Lasso Masterlist

Word count: 3k+

Paring: Roy/Jamie, Jamie & AFC Richmond Himbos (platonic)

Content Warning: car wreck, police detectives, death (some random dude), grief and loss, angst (happy ending), fear, mentions being sick/vomiting. Swearing, lots of swearing

A Very Bad Day for AFC Richmond Off Pitch

"This is not like Jamie," Dani says, his tone filled with concern.

"Well, not the newer Jamie, old Jamie maybe," Isaac says.

"But that Jamie is long gone. Our Jamie never misses," Dani Insists.

"And he usually tells someone. Did he train with Coach this morning?" Sam asks. 

"I guess, but had to bail early. Said he had something to do before training," Colin states. He'd already asked. Now the coaches were sequestered in the office with the door closed. And that did not sit well with any of them.

"Coach Kent seems very angry," Jan states what they can all clearly see through the window. "He thinks Jamie is going back to old Jamie." 

"Can you read lips?" The others ask. 

"Helps learn languages faster. It unites verbal and vocal cues to memory faster," Jan says.

"Huh, what are they saying now?" 

"That Jamie is still not picking up, and Keeley, I assume it is Keeley-" Jan says.

"Keeley, yes, he said it again," Richard agrees.

"Right, that she has not heard from him. And then Ted said that they can't just assume something then he looked away."

"Maybe they mean-" Richard goes to say but is cut off as a nervous-looking Higgins leads two men none of them knew into the locker room. Higgins hurries to knock on the gaffer's door. Then everyone silently waits. They can't hear what is said, but Roy goes silent and it looked like his anger drained right out with him as fast as the blood seemed to drain from Ted's face. 

"Gatver," Jan curses. Richard unleashes a litany of curses in multiple languages. Dani goes pale.

"What?" Colin asks. "What happened? Who are they."

"Detectives," Jan says.

"Like Scotland Yard? Did they say metro or-" Colin is cut off when the office door opens and Ted and Roy leave.

Coach Beard looks at the team. 

"What's going on, Coach?" Sam asks, hoping his friends were wrong. "Is it about Jamie?"

"We're those really detectives?" Isaac asks.

"Is Jamie okay?" Colin asks. 

All three questions were asked at the same time. Beard holds his hands up. They go silent.

"First, yes they were detectives. Second, They don't know for sure yet but-" Everyone starts talking at once, and Beard looks at Higgins. 

"Shut it!" Isaac shouts. "Let them finish." Beard nods at Isaac.

"It may or may not be about Jamie," Higgins says. 

"How do they not know?" 

"Because the car they found belonged to Jamie Tartt, but they couldn't ID the…" Higgins looks pained as he struggles to say it. 

"They couldn't identify the driver," Beard says. His arms crossed over his chest.

"Was there an accident?" Sam asks, now very worried for his friend. 

"If they couldn't identify him, then he is either dead or close to it," Jan states. Dani does the sign of the cross and mutters a prayer. 

"The driver did not survive," Higgins finally says.

The room erupts into chaos.

"BUT IT COULD STILL BE SOMEONE ELSE!" Beard shouts. The team goes quiet again.

"Jamie has a very recognizable face," Dani says. "How do they not know? It is Jamie, or it isn't Jamie. Cannot be both."

"Roy said Jamie mentioned taking his car somewhere. That it had an issue. We don't know anything yet," Beard explains. "You boys can go home if you want. Training is-"

"We're not going nowhere, til we find out if Jamie is okay, right?" Isaac says, looking at the others who all adamantly agree.

"Well, then get comfy, might be a long wait."

"I should inform, Rebecca-Ms. Welton," Higgins says. And Beard nods as he goes back into his office in case someone calls. 

"This cannot be happening," Dani says.

"Let's hope it isn't," Isaac says. "That is some sorta mix-up."

It goes quiet. No one is sure what to say, and everything feels wrong.

Roy doesn't even look at the team as he goes into the office and sits at his desk. Ted goes in and says something no one can make out to Beard before going back out to the oddly silent team. All of them just waiting for him to say something. 

"Wasn't Jamie," Ted says. Shockingly direct and blunt for the usually verbose gaffer but the relief is palpable in the room. But everyone goes quiet again when Ted still doesn't look happy.

"Then what's wrong?" Sam asks. "Where is Jamie?"

"We still have not been able to track him down, but that is not necessarily a bad thing. He could just have a broken or dead phone. It is possible that there was a family emergency, or he got called away for something and didn't have time to let anyone know. We don't know anything except that someone had Jamie's car."

"Do they think someone took it from him, like violently?" Colin asks. He was too good at coming up with worst-case scenarios.

"No way of knowing yet," Ted says. 

"So what? We just wait here until they tell us if Jamie is even alive?" 

"Assuming they can find him," Bumbercatch says.

"Not the most positive of possibilities,” Ted says. “But we can only hope for a positive outcome."

"What does Roy think?" Colin asks. 

"He hasn't said much other than that was definitely not Jamie," Ted answers honestly. "And I don't suggest asking him too much."

"Why not? He spends the most time with him," Jan says. Roy gets up and goes to the hall, slamming the door as he does. They all wince. 

"Oh, I see," Jan says. 

"He is taking this rather hard, it seems," Ted says. 

It is quiet for a moment before Ted excuses himself to go talk to Rebecca and Higgins. And Roy, if he hasn't gone far, but Roy was already gone. So, he headed upstairs. 

Roy let himself into Jamie's flat with a spare. He had told Jamie he needed to hide better, but Jamie had clearly failed to move the key. It was amazing no one had broken into his flat and- Roy was suddenly very concerned about what he might find inside. He called out for Jamie and was met with silence. Dread pooled in Roy's gut as he closes the door and made his way into Jamie's home. He looked around the floor before going upstairs and checking the first floor. Nothing. No Jamie. No sign anything was wrong. Absolutely nothing. Roy sat down on the edge of Jamie's bed and tried to think about every detail from their early morning training session. Jamie had seemed fine. He was his usual determined and annoyingly chatty self. He didn't seem worked up about anything other than his car having a light out or something. He was annoyed that he had to actually do something about it but not angry or even worried. It was eating Roy up that he hadn't stayed to find out more. Or offer to go wherever Jamie had to go with him. Fuck, why did it feel like he should have never left? Jamie is a grown-ass man. He didn't need Roy to hold his damn hand for everything.

"You sound broken," Keeley says when Roy finishes telling her what he knew. 

"Fuck!" Roy shouts to the empty bedroom. He decided to keep the key and headed back to his car after locking up. The last thing he needed was for Jamie to come home to find his electronics missing or some shit. Roy ignores the tiny voice in the back of his mind that points out Jamie might never come home again. Might never do anything again. And it makes his knuckles go white as he grips his steering wheel and his breakfast threatening to make a reappearance for the second time that day. The first was right before they pulled the sheet back at the morgue. That moment when he thought he might actually have had to look at the cold and lifeless body of Jamie Tartt in the morgue. And fuck, that had nearly destroyed Roy. He had a moment of absolute relief when it was obvious that the body wasn't Jamie's. The face might not have been recognizable, but Roy had just seen Jamie. He knew Jamie's tattoos, and those were different. He knew Jamie's ring. Even his stupid fucking earrings. And the body had none of them. They hadn't taken any of them from the body. Roy actually knew a lot more of Jamie than he even realized he did. He could close his eyes and see the man in vivid detail. For better or for worse, Roy knew Jamie better than most people did. They spent hours talking about mundane shit during early morning runs and training. They even had breakfast on occasion. And Roy had enjoyed every fucking second of his time with Jamie. He drove back to Nelson Road, but before he got out of his car, he called Keeley to update her.

"Fucking feel broken," he admits. 

"Is it because you care for Jamie more than you actually want to admit, or is it because you finally did admit it, and now you are scared you won't be able to do anything about it?"

"The second one," Roy says. "Fuck, Keeley, if something's happened and he-"

"You are going to work yourself into a mess with what-ifs, and when he does come home, you're going to make him worry or, worse, feel guilty. So just breathe and go be with the others. Call me if you hear anything, okay?" 

"Yeah, okay. Thanks, Keeley," he says before hanging up. He takes a few deep breaths and goes inside. He waves off anyone that tries to ask how he is. He tells them he went by Jamie's flat, and he wasn't there, and nothing seemed off. Everyone just settles in to wait for some kind of answer. 

Jamie rushes through the door, verbally apologizing for being late, but the train was late. When he notices that it is eerily silent despite the locker room being what had seemed like it's usually chaos when he came in. He looks up. And the room feels fucking off. Dani looks like he has been crying for who knows how long. Colin looks like he's seen a fucking ghost. Sam looks absolutely shook. 

"Who fucking died?" Jamie means it as a dark joke, but when Colin's gaze snaps to Isaac like he expected their captain to explain. Jamie realizes it might not be a joke. "Wait, what-" but he is cut off by a body hitting his. And it knocks him breathless for a second. When he inhales, he gets hit with the overwhelming scent of Roy fucking Kent, and Jamie's brain might have to reboot because when he looks at Roy's face. The man looks fucking shattered, and Jamie is about to ask what was going on when Roy's lips are on his. Jamie swears Roy's hands shake as they grip the sides of Jamie's face. The striker drops the bag he was still holding so he can grip Roy's sides. He has no idea what is going on, but if Roy is kissing him, then he sure as shit isn't going to miss the opportunity to kiss Roy fucking Kent. 17-year-old him would have fucking lost his shit if he could see this.

"Not that I'm complainin'," Jamie says once he gets air back in his lungs. "But what the fuck was that for?" 

"Where the fuck have you been? And where the fuck is your phone?" Roy asks.

Jamie's brow furrows despite the fact Roy still has a grip on his face. "Phones in me bag," Jamie says. "Some prick smashed me tail light. Told ya earlier had to drop it round the shop. Fuckin day for it. Seems the tube system is fucked today. Took fucking ages, and there's never any service down there, or I'd have let you know I'd be late. Shoulda got a loner. Ya gonna tell me going on? What happened?"

"They said you was fucking dead, bruv," Isaac answers him. Roy fucking tenses but doesn't pull away. “Then you weren’t, but still could be.”

Jamie is pretty sure Roy is not a PDA guy, but if what Isaac said is true, Roy's reaction made a bit more sense now, but still, what the fuck?

"What? Who?" Jamie asks and shifts to actually hug Roy, like an actual comforting hug. The right move based on the fact Roy moves one hand to the back of his neck, and the other goes around his shoulder. 

"A detective dropped by and asked us to come identify a body," Ted answers. "Was a tense ride to the police station. I can tell you that much. Thought ol' Roy was going to pass out or throw up. And not cuz of the dead body. Obviously, wasn't you, since you're here. But whooey were we glad it wasn't you. I'm sorry for whoever it was and hope their family will be alright, but never been so glad NOT to see one of you fellas." 

"Fuckin hell," Jamie mutters. "Ehhhh…can you guys…umm."

"Right!” Ted claps. “Now that our boy is here, time to train."

The team grumbles, but they go. Once everyone is gone. Jamie focused on Roy.

"I'm fine, Roy," Jamie says. Not coach, boss, or some joke about his age. He says his name. And that has something twisting in Roy's stomach. Good or bad, he doesn't know. "Really, I swear."

"Fuck," is the first thing Roy manages to articulate, and that earns a nervous laugh from Jamie. 

"Yeah," Jamie grins because he can feel Roy start to relax. "Makes a lot more sense why I had like a hundred messages and voicemails. I just thought you all were just mad I was late. Not like late for me next birthday, kinda late." Jamie winces at his own dark humor joke. It earns a grunt from Roy, and he finally pulls away to actually look at Jamie. 

"You have the worst fucking humor," Roy states.

"Yeah, that one’s a bit dark, innit?" Jamie laughs. "Probably not me best timed one either."

"Fuck no," Roy grunts. 

"But a bad joke is still a joke, and can't tell many of those if 'm dead." 

Roy nods in agreement. 

"You right enough that I can get me kit on? Or do you need another hug?" Jamie genuinely asks. He's not about to rush anything, even if it is just letting Roy process the fact Jamie is very much still alive. Roy seems to weigh his options. He studies Jamie before pulling him in for another kiss. Jamie gives him exactly what he wanted. Once they pull apart again, Roy tells him to hurry the fuck up and get out on the pitch. Jamie just laughs.

He is lacing up his boots when his phone rings, and he answers it.

"Fucking hell, Jamie. Are you alright?" Keeley asks. She seems almost as stressed as the team was, and Jamie realizes someone must have called her trying to find him.

"I'm fine, still very much alive and late for training," he tells her.

"Roy was losing his fucking mind," Keeley says.

"I know, he…well, I'll tell you later. If I don't get out there, the whole damn team might come looking for me. I promise I will tell you the full story."

"After training," she says.

"Right, after training," he agrees.

"I'll hold you to it," Keeley says. "Oh, and I'm sorry about your car, but you can always get a new one."

"Wait, what about me car?" he asks as he finishes lacing his boots. 

"Uhh, ask Roy. He can give you the details. And help you pick a new one," she says.

"Right, okay. Gotta go, yeah?"

"Text me later, babe. Now go on."

Jamie grins as he hangs up and heads to the tunnel. 

Roy looks over at him as he reaches the pitch.

"You good? Took you a while," Roy looks him over, but he looks fine.

"Keeley called," Jamie states.

"That would do it," Roy nods.

"She mentioned something," Jamie says. Roy is suddenly very concerned that Keeley said something Roy hadn't had the nerve to say out loud but was pretty sure Jamie had figured out based on the fact Roy had nearly knocked him over and kissed him. Fuck that was- his thoughts are cut off when Jamie speaks.

"What happened to me car?" Jamie asks, and Roy grunts. 

"Totaled. Some prick took it for a joyride and got themselves killed."

"Fuck,” Jamie says. His car was just a car, but yeah he can see why the police and shit got involved. “And you guys thought it was me?" 

"Until Ted and I told them that the dead guy was not you."

"You had to…fuck, Roy. That's fucked up."

"Yeah, well, better us than your mum having to drive four hours to do it."

"Don't even joke. That would kill her," Jamie grimaces. 

"Wasn't exactly a fun time for us either. But I knew it wasn't you," Roy says. 

"How?" Jamie is actually curious.

"Because I know you, Jamie. I know you better than I do most people. And I know that for a reason."

"Oh yeah? What is that?"

"Because someone has to make sure you do shit, like move your damn spare key," Roy says, holding up the spare key to Jamie's flat. "I told you to do that weeks ago. It was way too obvious. And you are too famous to be that-"

"Stupid?" Jamie offers up, eyeing the key.

"Reckless," Roy finishes. "Fucking hell, Jamie."

"Just keep it, then I won't have to hide one," Jamie shrugs.

"Are you serious?" Roy asks, absolutely shocked.

"I mean, you show up at my house like every morning before dawn. Might as well make it easier on both of us and keep it. Besides, I have a feeling you'll be using a lot more now that-" Jamie is cut off by Roy kissing him. They get catcalls and wolf whistles from the players on the pitch. Jamie blushes and ducks his head when they pull apart. Roy just flips everyone off and tells them to fuck off and take a lap. They laugh until they realize he wasn't joking. Jamie joins them. After the lap, there is a lot of hugging, especially between Jamie, Dani, and Sam, before training actually starts in earnest. Jamie may need a new car, but he is sure as hell glad he has his coaches and his friends, especially Roy. Roy was easily becoming a bit of everything. His coach, his friend, and now something more. Yeah, Jamie could live with needing a new car for this outcome. He can live with that.

#tw: car accident #tw: car wreck #tw: police #tw: police detectives #tw: death #tw: death mention #tw: grief #tw: loss #tw: fear #tw: angst #tw: mentions of being sick #tw: vomiting #tw: nausea #tw: swearing #tw: cursing #royjamie #roy x jamie #roy kent #jamie tartt #afc richmond #dani rojas #isaac mcadoo #colin hughes #sam obisanya #ted lasso #coach beard #keeley jones

[askglassanon]

27

The room feels heavier

*Glass swallows thickly and gasps*

*The Nameless snap up, Ryba jumps off the bed and runs into the other unseen room*

*Glass whimpers, mouth shooting up to cover her mouth, struggles breaths picking up*

*That's a frantic clatter from the other room*

// @tinydancerandthemoonchild

#Ask Glass #Celestial AU #Cosmic Royalty AU #Crystal Fuel #Anniversary 528 #The Nameless #Tw: Nausea

[a-little-birdie]

can u do rottmnt x reader suffering from period

Heck yeah! Because you didn’t specify who or what the relationship is, ima just do general headcannon style (with some small blurbs) with the main boys and romantic if that’s okay! I wanted to try my hand at romantic for a bit, of course mikey is platonic!

Tw: female anatomy but I did my best to make the reader as gender neutral as possible, talk of periods, blood, menstrual pain, nausea, vomiting the works.

General

Im going to say it here and now: Splinter did not teach his sons about periods or anything like that. However April did explain everything to them before they met you so they actually understand quite a bit. They listened to April very intently because it means they’d be able to help her in the future with anything she might need or want.

So if you come to the sewers looking uncomfy or in pain, Mikey has the most awesomest chocolate in the world hand made by the one and only, Leo is in the kitchen making tea for you, Raph has plenty of pain pills and gravol to share and Donnie has blankets and heating pads!

Even though they understand the pain you’re feeling they’re still goofballs so they’ll pretend to be you while on your period sometimes and it’ll become a “who can make the best zombie impression” contest. It’s still great fun though.

Leo

I’m going to say he’s very sweet when you’re on your period, if you’re ever sore or in pain or just in general uncomfortable he’s always willing to help you out.

Has stolen menstrual health products for you and will do it again.

His favourite thing to do with you while your on your period is turn on the TV and cuddle while marathoning movies together. Sweet, salty, spicy and savoury overpriced snacks surround the two of you as you watch the movies together. It’s nice.

You sit cuddled up against Leo’s plastron while playing with the tails of his bandana. Leo currently has his arms wrapped around you as he slowly works through a small knot in your back. Another wave of pain hits you and you shudder in Leo’s arms. “Leo.” You whine out and he kisses your temple while moving the blankets around a bit to better cover the two of you. “I know, I know. It hurts, but it’ll be okay. It’s just a little longer.” You whine a little more before nodding and settling back down. Leo gives you another kiss as he squeezes you in a gentle hug and then starting to work more on the knot he was earlier. Just a few more minutes before the pain meds kick in. Then you’ll be able to eat all the junk food you want and marathon movies with Leo.

Raph

This man has all the pain meds you might need. Advil? Check. Tylenol? Yep. Aleve? What does he look like, a chump? And of course he also has Gravol for any nausea you might have.

Speaking of Gravol you tend to need it, a lot. It’s not something he’s upset about though. He’s the oldest brother to three other children in a sewer pipe, when they were younger they’d get into all kinds of crap that would make them sick. So it’s okay, just let Raph comfort you.

When you’re not nauseous and having to live with a bucket in between your hands, the two of you pretty much continue on as business as normal. While you still take it easy (because Raph refuses to let you push yourself to far) you still do some light workouts and stretching with him and the boys.

(Warning!! I know I already mentioned vomiting and nausea but this is where it’s ramped up! There is some description, but not much.)

You sat on Raphs bed with a blanket around your shoulders. He had quickly cleaned his room before you walked in which was really sweet but you couldn’t care less while you were puking your brains out. You swallowed as another wave of nausea rolled over you, trying not to lose whatever food you had left in your stomach before giving up. You gagged as you vomited into the bucket and looked at what was inside. Eggs from breakfast and…. “Carrots, why is there always carrots?” You mumble out loud as Raph rubs your back in a soothing motion as he hands you your water bottle. After rinsing your mouth of whatever bile was left in there you settle back against Raphs side. Raph puts an arm around you shoulders. “You gonna be okay?” You nod your head as you lean into him, a grounding and solid weight you can rely on whenever you want. Yeah, you’ll be okay, especially with Raph here to help you.

Donnie

Donnie understands your pain, at least a little. He’s had really bad stomach cramps and has just felt overall really bad. But Y’know what’s always helped him? Coffee, heated, weighted and normal blankets and video games. It’s to do with something something rest something something don’t worry about anything.

If you come over looking like and even feeling like death, he’ll set you up with a nice cuppa Joe (coffee) if you want and your choice of heated and weighted blankets. Then he’ll hand you a controller and join you for a game of your choosing. It’s quiet and he’s not the most physically affectionate but it’s more the silent “I’m here, don’t worry” message when he passes you the blankets.

Will get you anything you want. Literally anything. Remember how splinter wanted some extinct robin eggs or something like that and S.H.E.L.D.O.N. Got him DINO EGGS OF ALL THINGS??? Yeah, he can and will get you anything. So if you want some super fancy croissant? He’ll go to Paris and steal get one from the greatest pastry chef in France. Or you want some kind of cheese that was only available a long time ago? Hold on one second, he’ll send Sheldon out for you.

You sat comfortably on a separate gaming chair next to Donnie, both of you sipping on coffee while playing Stardew Valley (I play Stardew and it’s really comforting, if you don’t like it you can imagine something else) together. You were trying to get the perfection ending by the end of year two, which was a challenge but still nice. Of course Donnie figured out a schedule and a chart to be as efficient as possible, however with things like weather being random it became more of a guideline than anything. “Damn it.” You hiss out as you lost the fishing mini game. “You’ll get it next time.” Donnie reassures you and you look at him. “Right, like when you said that the last three times.” Donnie raises his eyebrows. “Scoff.” Is his only reply. “Snort.” You playfully retort back and the both of you smile as you continue playing together, enjoying the music of the video game.

Mikey (platonic)

This dude is so ready to help you feel better ASAP. Prepare for Dr. Feelings, Dr. Positive and even Dr. Delicate Touch if you need a swift kick in the butt. But you’re most likely just gonna be cooking in the kitchen with Mikey. You two are gonna make the greatest pizza in the entire world!

After pizza you two play some slightly competitive video games. It’s loads of fun with lighthearted banter and trash talk. Of course there’s some playful wrestling involved! You totally don’t steal his remote before he can reach the finish line in Mario kart

All in all, spending time with Mikey while on your period is mostly just him trying to cheer you up and help distract you from how uncomfortable your period is. You’re his best friend and he hates seeing you in any type of pain, so he’s going to do his absolute darnedest to help you out as much as possible!

You sat on a beanbag in front of the large tv next to Mikey, the upbeat and fast paced music of the racing video game keeping you focused on beating the other to the finish line. “Oh, you are going down!” You scoff as Mikey clicks away at his controller furiously. “Yeah right! We both know I’m the reigning champ!! And as always. Eat. My. Dust.” You say with a finality that is punctuated with your ultimate move. A big, fat “YOU LOSE!!” Screen flashes across Mikey’s half of the game and you let out a victory whoop. “Noooooooooo! My victory! My high score! My win streak!! Stolen from me by my one and only friend!” Mikey says with a theatrical air while dramatically sinking to the ground in mock despair. “What will I do now? How shall I live on?” You wheeze after holding back your snorts and snickers and burst into full laughter. Mikey joins you rolling on the floor and clutching his sides. After both of you calm down you purse your lips before looking at Mikey. “Wanna go for round two?” Mikey gives you a devilish smile telling you he won’t let his win streak go so easily. “You’re on!!”

Wow, much longer than I expected! They all aren’t balanced, especially in terms of quality I think. I tried to make it more balanced though between the four of them. Lemme know what’cha think! I absolutely loved writing this by the way, it was quite comforting. Periods really suck so I hope this might comfort anyone dealing with that stuff! I wanted to get a bit of all the different sides of a period but I didn’t really get to sadly. And I’m gonna stop there because if I don’t I’m gonna go into a big long spiel about periods and no one wants to hear or read that! Anyways hope you enjoyed and that this is what you wanted!!

#fandom: rottmnt #c: donnie #c: leo #c: Mikey #c: Raph #Donnie x reader #Mikey x reader/p #Raph x reader #Leo x reader #ROTTMNT #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt leo #rottmnt raph #rottmnt x reader #tw: blood #tw: period #tw: period talk #tw: vomiting #tw: nausea #tw: female anatomy

[herearedragons]

Drain Life (f!Amell, Tower of Ishal, 1041 words)

“Kyana - are you alright?”

Alistair stops and turns around to look at her; she scowls back. His silhouette is blurry against the line of torches on the wall, the only source of light in the dark hallway.

She misses magelight. Cleaner, brighter, and it comes without the side effects of heat and smoke, the smell of which makes her want to vomit.

“I’m fine. We need to hurry.”

“That wound looks bad. Your entire side is bloody; I don’t think a bandage is going to cut it.”

Kyana clenches her teeth, trying to keep from hissing at her fellow warden to shut up and keep walking.

“I. Am. Fine,” she repeats, now with more pressure in her voice. Over the last few minutes, her leg has gone from numbness to stinging pain several times, and the feeling of warm blood seeping through her robe is insufferable, and she doesn’t need Alistair to add even more discomfort on top of that.

“They should have a stock of healing potions somewhere,” one of the soldiers accompanying them pipes up, “Maybe poultices - ”

“Enough!”

A small wave of force glides through the air along with her voice.

“We don’t have time to rummage through every room,” Kyana says. “We’re already too late. Therefore, we keep moving, and I swear I will burn alive the next person who mentions looting. Am I clear?”

In response, silence. She raises her voice again:

“Am I clear?”

“Y-yes, ser,” the guard mumbles.

“Good,” she says, and begins walking. The other three follow suit, and soon outrun her, leaving her limping at the back of the group.

Walking hurts, of course. It somehow hurts more than anything she had experienced before; the Joining, the Harrowing - neither of those come close to the everpresent burning and heaviness she feels now. She leans on her staff instead of her foot, but it still slows her down.

It’s fine, she thinks. I’m a mage; I don’t need to be fast. I need to be smart.

Just as they approach the stairs to the next floor - her entire body protests just at the thought of climbing them; she orders it to shut up, - she hears skittering across the floor, and then feels a tainted presence.

She and Alistair turn around at the same time; their voices merge in one shout:

“Darkspawn!”

Alistair and one of the guards rush forward, deflecting crossbow bolts with their shields; the second guard takes cover behind a crumbled pillar. Her leg feels too heavy to do even that; all she can do is lean on her staff and conjure a barrier.

It feels better once she reaches into the Fade, allows her mind to do what it’s been yearning to do for hours: leave. She lets the feeling envelop her, help her forget the pain, the weariness.

Kyana closes her eyes and sends her mind forth.

She can feel each of the darkspawn; their location, their size, their movements. Alistair and the guards too, though weaker, small disturbances in the space.

She breathes in, exhales and reaches further, lets the magic fill her to the brim until there’s nothing left but pure energy, pure will. It washes over her thoughts, her senses; suddenly she’s aware of the exact reach her spells would have, how many of them she can afford, in what order.

Time slows down.

How does she want to do this?

The ground erupts beneath the group of genlocks Alistair is fighting off; they shriek as rubble tears through their flesh. The hurlocks’ crossbows explode in their hands, unused bolts rising into the air, forming a cloud that crashes right back onto them with arcane force; they don’t even make a sound.

She comes to on her knees, still clutching her staff; she tries to pull herself up, but to no avail.

Her gaze drifts to the left; the other guard lies still behind a pillar, a dagger sticking from his chest; next to him, a genlock’s corpse, crossbow bolt in its neck. She didn’t even notice it happen - didn’t notice them kill each other.

The genlock draws in a rasping breath. Still alive -

Her first instinct is to cast one more spell and finish it off, but it’s overpowered by something new, something scratching at her from within like the worst hunger she has ever experienced.

She feels the blood stain on her robes; it’s getting bigger, and with perfect clarity, Kyana understands that she won’t make it down from the top floor if the wound goes untreated.

The genlock wheezes; she grinds her teeth and begins to walk towards it. It’s not a long distance, but she remembers all the curses she knows until she’s there, near the dying creature in the pool of its own black blood, and the demand within her is getting louder and louder.

She dips a finger into the tainted blood and draws a glyph on the ground; the simplest healing glyph, but inverted. They teach the wrong form of it in the Circle, so it won’t work if a curious apprentice decides to try it, but her advanced studies included the correct form of the spell.

Drain Life.

Kyana watches as red mist trickles from what she assumes to be the darkspawn’s nostrils - and then shoots towards her; there’s a wave of heat and a wave of nausea, a metallic taste in her mouth as her body begins to compensate for the blood loss, devouring the stolen life energy.

The genlock goes still.

 Not maleficarum, she thinks. Not maleficarum. Just simple entropy, a clean transfer of life force from one vessel to another. The glyph could have been written with anything.

Her leg still hurts, but at least the bleeding has stopped; it’s at this moment that Alistair runs up to her, out of breath.

“I may need another bandage,” Kyana mutters, letting him help her up to her feet.

#dragon age origins #da:o #warden amell #alistair #dragon age fanfiction #dragon age fanfic #re: drain life being kind of very close to blood magic and kyana having to convince herself it's fine to use it #herearedragons writing #oc: kyana amell #tw: blood #tw: injury #tw: nausea #fic reupload

[lxvenderhxzehv]

Where: Huntsville Library Who: Josie and Cal (@justcallmecal)

"I think I need to go home early" Josie sat almost unable to move from the chair she was in without feeling sick. Someone had come into the Library with something from the diner and it spun Josie in to a nauseous nightmare. She rarely got sick, let alone catch a stomach bug. She never missed school or work for that matter "I think being out in the rain last week and stuck in the bank was just the perfect recipe for me to catch something" Something was wrong but she just couldn't figure out what this was and she hated it.

#Thread (Josie and Cal) #WHOOP! #So the Huggies thing said Nausea can start this early so hehehehe #tw: nausea #tw: sickness

[kinkandkreep]

Connor Encounters Poison

A/N: Hey hey y’all! Sooooo….I had this strange urge to see a scenario where Connor encounters poison out on the Frontier and, while incapacitated, has to fend off predators and simultaneously tend to his illness. I only plan for the poison to cause nausea and vomiting and maaaaaybe have some hallucinogenic effects coupled with a little gastrointestinal distress, so if any of that triggers or grosses you out, please refrain from reading this. Otherwise, I hope you all enjoy, and please feel free to send in any Connor related asks or requests! 😁

 ‘Ok. Perhaps I should have heeded Achilles’ warning.’

Connor sighed as he stumbled along the unbeaten path, grumbling irritably beneath his breath. 

Earlier, as he’d been tracking a wolf back to its den, Connor had unfortunately come into contact with what he believed was some sort of poison. 

Its effects were not immediate, and he could only tell that something was wrong once he began to feel woozy. 

Trying his best to keep from startling the wolf, who he’d learned was a mother of 3 pups, Connor, as quickly as possible, turned on his heel and made for home.

Initially the symptoms weren’t so terrible, just the beginnings of some mild nausea and a dizzying effect every few steps or so. 

However, the further he traveled, the worse his symptoms became.

Now that he was about 2 and a half quarters of the way home, he was experiencing full blown nausea, such that he needed to repeatedly vomit, and dizziness so bad he was forced to take a seat on the ground beneath the shade of a large tree to steady himself. 

Nighttime was nearing, and though Connor was confident he could still defend himself if absolutely necessary, he would really rather not given his current circumstance. 

Taking some deep breaths, Connor shut his eyes momentarily, trying to combat the dizziness and somewhat settle his, now upset, stomach. 

He considered calling for a horse, but he knew that he was too nauseous currently to withstand the constant up and down motion of a horse’s gallop. 

Instead, he reached for the waterskin he’d brought along with him and took several small sips, being careful not to drink too much at one time. 

Only about an hour had elapsed since Connor encountered whatever poison was rapidly making its way through his system, and though he couldn’t be sure just yet, he got the feeling that he still had a long way to go before it was completely flushed out. 

The water had helped a small amount, and the dizziness that had once caused the world to be spinning rapidly had devolved only slightly into that same image now spinning slower, enough that it was somewhat manageable. 

Connor’s stomach however, was still roiling and grumbling angrily, enough that he groaned in audible discomfort. 

Struggling to his feet, he braced himself on the tree behind him, quickly inhaling deep, slightly shaky breaths. 

He sat like that for a few minutes more, before slowly, carefully taking a few tentative steps forward to gauge how the dizziness would affect his walking. 

The dizziness had dissipated some, enough that he could walk, albeit at a much slower pace than normal. Connor’s stomach, however, became more and more unhappy the further he traveled. 

Eventually, he needed to rest again, so he took a seat on a tree stump in his path and tried to pace himself. 

He didn’t feel like he needed to use the restroom, it honestly felt more like his lunch from earlier was going to reappear soon.

And given the sour taste creeping up the back of his throat and the sudden bout of dry heaving, he figured that it would definitely be sooner rather than later. 

Connor managed to hold it down for a few minutes more, until the contents of his stomach emptied themselves out onto the ground in front of him. 

Connor hated vomiting, and though it wasn’t something he did often by any stretch, he could remember the few times he had vividly. And it was always a very unpleasant experience. 

Luckily, after expelling whatever small bit of sick was left and rinsing his mouth out with some water, Connor had to admit that he felt a heck of a lot better. 

The dizziness had mostly ceased and the nausea had all but disappeared. 

He took a few minutes more to gather his bearings before standing and making for the manor. 

It was mostly dark by now, and Connor could hear the wolves off in the distance howling toward the moon. The stars were out this night, shining and twinkling brightly. 

Against what instinct told him to hurry home, Connor took a moment to admire the night sky, taking a deep breath and shutting his eyes momentarily. 

They stayed shut, until he heard a muffled growl sound from his left. 

Eyes snapping open, Connor dodged just as the wolf lunged at him. The quick movement unfortunately created a dizzying effect, and Connor knew then that he wasn’t entirely out of the poison woods yet. 

The wolf in front of him ducked low and snarled, tail swishing slowly as it prepared to pounce. 

Unsheathing his hidden blade, Connor prepared to put the wolf down. 

The creature lunged forward, and Connor quickly slid out of its way with practiced ease, sinking his blade into its neck and carefully laying its now limp body to rest on the ground. 

The ordeal had left Connor a little more winded than usual, which he chalked up to some of the poison still being in his system. 

Despite this, he kneeled down, uttering a typical quiet, appreciative “niá:wen” before beginning the process of skinning the felled wolf. 

Once that was finished, the night had fully settled in, and Connor could see lights in the distance. 

He hurried his pace, desperate to get home, brush his teeth and bathe and hopefully sleep off the rest of this poison. 

By the time he arrived, Achilles was already asleep, and Connor frankly didn’t have the energy to hold conversation anyway.  ‘I’ll regale him with the tale tomorrow,’ he thought to himself, before making his way to the washbasin.

#connor kenway #ratonhnhaké:ton #ac3 #assassin's creed 3 #tw: vomit #tw: nausea #tw: hallucinations #tw: gastrointestinal distress

[pollenallergie]

you ever get so tired that you start feeling nauseous and questioning all your life choices, or is that just a silly little me thing.

#genuinely feel i could frow up but ik it’s just coz i’m sleepy not bc i actually need to frow up #tw: nausea #tw: vomit

[ladiemars]

nothing says “college student with a chronic disease” like downing a narcotic at 7am with coffee and applesauce then dry heaving by a dumpster on the walk home from class

#i really am god’s strongest soldier #a very brave little boy #mars talks #tw: nausea #tw: chronic illness

[inkdrinkerworld]

Mentions of nausea related to not taking medicine and eating on time! Dick being a sweetheart and a huge family birthday function.

Dick who even though you’re at a family function takes out food early for you and sets it in front of you with your medicine and says, “Eat baby, I know you’re getting nauseous.”

You’re embarrassed because none of your other family members are eating and all their eyes are on you and Dick because how could he tell? You were just having a regular conversation with your cousins. “Eat baby, you’ll feel better.”

And of course your aunts all love how he dotes on you and encourages you both to go inside and sit together to eat and at some point Dick ends up feeding you and you lay in his lap after taking your medicine. “Thanks Dick, I feel better now.”

One of your cousins come in to check on you with a water in his hand.

“Say something next time, yeah? We can talk about how Helen keeps losing teeth, after.”

You take the water and give him a smile. “Yeah whatever, let me know when you’re going to the beach. Wanna see the water.”

He nods and walks away, Dick losing himself in stroking your back and shoulders. “You can fall asleep baby, I’m pretty sure your aunts won’t mind.”

You pout, turning to look up at him. “It’s her birthday! I’m not sleeping through the celebrations.”

Dick smiles at how whiny you sound, clearly feeling better. “I won’t let you sleep through it, take a five.” You don’t argue, especially not when his fingers start massaging the nape of your neck and down your back.

#dickgrayson #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson fanfiction #dick grayson #dick grayson drabble #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson fluff #dick grayson headcanon #dick grayson fic #dick grayson x yn #dick grayson x black reader #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x gender neutral reader #dick grayson one shot #dick grayson x female!reader #tw: nausea

[futureboy-caseyjones]

It was the blood loss. I'm super nauseous... But I'm good..

Oh... the..re's Chrrp

«Safe»

#Ask Casey Jones II #Apocalyptic Vacation #Goongala #Tw: Emetophobia #Tw: Nausea #Tw: Blood

[sortofanobsession]

If you look up Lionel Messi and soccer, you’ll find a bunch of articles about his problems with gagging and vomiting during matches. I’d like to plant a story idea in your head about Jamie having that same issue.

Author's Note: I know I promised this earlier, and I know I promised a birthday sequel, but this is the most chaotic week of my entire year for work. So the other might be a bit delayed. Sorry about that.

Zava is a bit out of character in this. He's meaner than he actually was on the show. I did that because I needed a sort of trigger for Jamie's anxiety. Jamie is confident, or at least presents himself to be, and absolutely sure of his own abilities, Zava in the show does make him doubt himself, but not enough to create this level of anxiety. My husband has the same type of anxiety, especially when it comes to his job. He went thorough a program to help him, but my husband was dealing with it for the first time. Jamie, I have him set to have sort of dealt with it before, because with Jamie's history he probably would have. But again, this is all canon divergent.

Pairing: RoyJamie

Word Count: 6k+

Content warning: Anxiety, vomiting, nausea, panic, fear, manipulation, verbal harassment, physical violence, bruising, injury, blood, head injury, ultimatums, concussions, stitches, angst, anger, swearing/cursing/cussing.

With a little help

Jamie used to be better at managing his anxiety. Or at least he thinks he was. Maybe he was just better at, what had Keeley called it? Right, compartmentalizing, a weird word, but yeah. He really didn't know much about this stuff. Maybe it was just easier when he was a prick and didn't care what anyone thought. He knew he was the star, and he was fucking brilliant. But now, he had so much more to lose. Sure, it had wracked his nerves thinking he couldn't lose and his dad would punish him. But the anxiety over that was manageable as long as he was winning. But things are different now. Zava was the star. Zava was taking his friends from him. His dad must be pissed about that. Jamie feels like he’s going to be sick for, well, he’s lost count. 

Roy looks around the locker room and everyone is there and eager for the match, all but one.

“Where the fuck is Tartt?!” the coach demands.

“Loo,” Jeff tells him.

“Again?” Sam asks. 

“The fuck you mean ‘again’?” Roy did not like the sound of that. 

“Been in and out of since he got here,” Colin says. 

“Does he plan to play sick because that is not a very good idea,” Jan Maas says. 

Roy heads to find him, and Jan Maas might be on to something because he can hear Jamie throwing up. Something uneasy shifts the coach’s own gut. But Roy knows what he is feeling, just now why. He knocks on the door. He hears a bunch of noises, including rushed movement and water. Jamie rushes out and glances at the clock. And Roy does not like what he sees. Jamie is already sweating and shaking slightly. 

“Shit, sorry coach, I’ll go-” 

“Nope,” Roy states. “Cockburn can start, you-”

“I'm fine, coach, I can play,”

“Not if your fucking sick, if it's contagious-”

“It's not, I swear, coach, it's not like the flu or something,” Jamie tried, but Roy knew what he heard. He eyes Jamie skeptically and surprises himself as he reaches up to feel Jamie's forehead. Roy ignores the odd feeling in his chest at seeing Jamie’s cheeks color. 

“I-I told you,” Jamie insists. “It's not like that, not a fever.”

“Something you ate?” Roy asks.

“...maybe?” 

But Roy isn't sure if he should believe him. The coach sighs. “Get cleared by the med team, and you can go in, but until then, Cockburn goes in.”

And Roy is a bit surprised when Jamie doesn't fight him.

The team is too busy getting ready and listening to Zava for Roy to tell them. 

“You're going in for Tartt,” Roy tells Cockburn.

“That bad?” The forward asks. 

Roy grunts but doesn't give him a direct answer as he goes to the whiteboard and makes a few adjustments. Not that it changes much but the team finally notices. 

“Cockburn is in,” Roy tells the other coaches. 

“What happened? Is Jamie okay?” Ted asks.

“Waiting to see if fucking med clears him for the second half,” Roy states. “Fucking Tartt.” But as annoyed as he might be, he doesn't like the idea of Jamie not being alright. The team was finally set up to have a real chance at winning. Jamie Tartt had seen to it. Hopefully, he'd get it out of his system. But it wasn’t just that. Some part of Roy was just not happy that Jamie was unwell. He’s just not sure that bugs him so much. 

“How is he?” Roy asks Gail at the half. 

“A bit dehydrated, but good to go,” she tells him.

“Fucking good,” Roy says, and he means it because he feels more relieved knowing Jamie is okay than he had expected. “Let's go, Tartt! You're going in!” The match goes well, but Roy can tell something isn’t right with Jamie Tartt. So he decides to keep a closer eye on the forward. 

It happens again before a few training days. And Jamie brushes it off as adjusting to a new morning routine. Again, Roy doesn’t really believe him, but he doesn’t force the issue. Not when Jamie is still up and training. But he can’t ignore it during their next match. Jamie actually throws up on the pitch and gets pulled from the match. Roy glares daggers at Zava as the newest striker complains about Jamie being a distraction. And it's not the first time he has. Roy makes his way to the treatment room and waves off the med team. So it is just him and Jamie. 

“Alright, Tartt, fucking out with it,” Roy says. His arms crossed over his chest like he was trying to keep how worried he'd been growing inside his chest. 

“Think I already did on the pitch,” Jamie winces. 

“We both know that isn't what I fucking meant,” Roy tries to keep it together because he knows Jamie's history. He knows about Jamie's father. But Jamie isn't helping himself here, so.

Roy is going to have to be the one to do it. “Tartt, I need to know what is going on with you because this isn't the Jamie Tartt I know. And I don't fucking like it one bit.”

The way Jamie sinks deeper into himself has Roy quickly adding. “You fucking dying or something? You're fucking freaking me out, Tartt.” 

“I’m not dying,” Jamie tells him. “Not even actually sick.”

“Then tell me what the fuck this is,” Roy says, and Jamie doesn't answer. Roy ignores the voice in his head with worse-case scenarios and moves to stand right next to Jamie. “Jamie,” he says in a softer tone. “I cannot help you if you don't talk to me. I need you to-” Roy doesn't even get to finish before Jamie sobs. Roy is momentarily gobsmacked before, without even really thinking, the coach pulls Jamie against his chest. 

“Fucking hell,” he mutters more to himself than Jamie, but Jamie must think it's directed at him because Jamie just cries harder. So Roy just holds him tighter. Everything inside Roy Kent is telling him that he needs to do something. Because seeing Jamie like is like a knife in the heart, he'd do anything to cheer the striker up. And his brain doesn't seem to have much input either because Roy hadn't even realized his hand had gone up and was running through Jamie's hair, over and over to help calm him. But he doesn't stop because it actually seems to be helping as the sobs slowly turn into sniffles. 

“I've got you, Tartt,” he says as he does. And when the treatment room door opens, and Jamie goes to pull away, Roy doesn't let him. The last thing he wants is for Jamie to close off and shut him out. 

“I…uh…just need to grab a few things,” Gail says. The look on her face is one of surprise and slight amusement. “You're good.” She grabs what she needs and leaves. 

“Well, that was embarrassing,” Jamie sniffles, it's muffled in Roy's shirt. And Roy huffs a laugh. 

“It's fucking fine, just breathe and maybe tell me what is wrong.” 

Jamie shifts, so it’s mainly just his forehead against him, and he takes Roy's advice. He takes a few deep breaths. He doesn’t pull away yet. Not fully. He’s almost too scared to look at Roy. But the way Roy's hand is now rubbing soothing circles on his back has him shifting and glancing up at Roy. 

“Will you tell me now?” Roy asks. 

“It's…it's just anxiety.”

Roy’s hand stills as that sinks in, but he recovers. His hand moves again because he doesn't want to make it worse. Doesn’t want Jamie to think that upsets Roy. He knows how Jamie gets when he thinks he’s upset someone.

“Okay, that's…okay,” Roy says. The coach is trying really hard to police his actions now. “Is this new or just worse than it was?” 

And Jamie isn't sure if he'd ever heard so many words without the older man swearing, ever. And Jamie isn't sure how to feel about it. He didn't know if he should tell him that it was because of Zava. 

“It's not new, but I thought I beat it ages ago,” Jamie says honestly.

“Okay, what changed?” Roy asks. And the coach can feel the striker’s muscles tense as Jamie starts to pull away. That didn't bode well. So Roy changes his tactic.

“Jamie,” Roy starts. “Tell me how I can help you?”

And that surprised Jamie. “You…you want to help me?”

“Of fucking course I do,” Roy says honestly.

“Because you're my coach?”

“Because I need you to fucking be okay. So what do you need from me?”

“Help me?” Jamie says. And the sad way Jamie says it grips Roy’s heart. He puts a hand on the back of Jamie's neck.

“Fucking easy, done. Just tell me how.”

“Train me?” Jamie asks, and Roy nearly laughs because if Jamie just needs some extra one-on-one to get past this, he will spend every minute he isn't with Phoebe or the team training with Jamie. 

“Fuck, yeah, we can do that,” Roy grins because he has had worse-case scenarios going through his mind, and this, this is something he can and will do. “We can start tomorrow if you want.”

“Yeah, really?”

“Yes, Tartt, really.”

They train every morning before joining the team for official training. It's mostly just conditioning and talking. Roy hopes it helps Jamie get a handle on his anxiety and gets his confidence back. 

Roy goes to Jamie before their next match.

“How you feeling?” Roy asks him. 

“I'm okay,” Jamie says.

“You sure?”

“I think so.”

“Well, if that changes, let me know.”

“Sure, coach,” Jamie nods. When he turns back, the striker notices a few of his teammates looking at him funny. “What?”

“He didn't swear once,” Cockburn points out.

Jamie just shrugs. And Jamie thinks he might be okay until right before the game. 

“Try not to lose your lunch or the game this time,” Zava nudges Jamie's shoulders as they head out.

And that has the knot in Jamie’s stomach returning. And he thinks he might get sick, so he slows down as they exit the tunnel. But Jamie hadn’t noticed that Roy had been watching him like a hawk. And the look on Jamie's face for just a moment before the striker can mask it is all Roy needs to see. The coach has to count to 10 to avoid murdering Zava on Sky fucking sports. He goes straight to Jamie. 

“Whatever the fuck he said, ignore it,” Roy tells him. 

“I don't know if I can-”

“Jamie, look at me,” Roy grips Jamie's shoulders. “You are Jamie fucking Tartt, and unlike that prick, you don't need to take your teammates down to be the star.”

“But I used to,” Jamie argues.

“But you matured, got better. He is a massive fucking prick. He wants to fuck with you because he KNOWS you are the only threat to his stardom on this fucking team. Stay focused on doing your job. Ignore him. And if you get the ball, do what you think is best.” 

Jamie nods. “Okay, yeah, thanks, Coach.”

The match goes well, Zava still has to have the most attention, but Roy doesn't give him any. Ted and the others can manage that. Roy goes to Jamie. 

“Well done, Tartt,” Roy tells him.

“I didn't do much, barely got the ball,” Jamie says with confusion.

“But you played without incident,” Roy insists.

“Guess training is paying off,” Jamie says. “Thanks, Coach.” 

Roy smiles. Jamie’s stomach flips, but not due to anxiety or feeling sick. No, this is different. This is a good feeling because Roy fucking Kent is smiling at him and telling him he did well. 

“Training tomorrow still?” Jamie asks.

“I think you earned a day off,” Roy says.

“What if I don't want one?” Jamie says honestly.

Roy considers it. He still has to meet the rest of the coaching staff to go through tapes. And oh boy does Roy have a point to make during that, but the last thing he wanted was Jamie backsliding. 

“Tell you what, we can go over the match over breakfast,” Roy offers. 

“Deal,” Jamie nods. 

Roy thought they were finally getting in front of the issue as Jamie seemed to be doing better. Until one morning, Jamie fails to meet him for training. And he wasn't answering his door. Roy had never been so glad he had talked to his sister about Jamie's anxiety. She had insisted Jamie give someone a spare key. Because someone, mainly someone who lived closer than Manchester, to help make sure that his issues don't escalate. That someone needs to make sure Jamie isn't a danger to himself. Jamie picked two someones. Roy and Keeley. And without hesitation, Keeley had agreed to help. But this was the first time Roy had considered using the spare key Jamie had given him for emergencies.

Roy's heart is pounding in his chest as he opens the door. He begs the universe that this isn’t one of the worst-case scenarios his sister had told him after he asked her for help. He closes Jamie's door. 

“Tartt?” He calls out. Nothing but silence greets him, and that makes his stomach churn. He digs his phone out of his pocket and heads straight for Jamie’s bedroom. He hoped he wouldn’t need his phone, but just in case, he pulled up the call screen. 

“Jamie?” He calls out again. Nothing at first. He calls again and hears a noise in Jamie's bathroom.

“Jamie?” He says and knocks. He hears a sniffle. “I'm coming in.” And before Jamie can tell him no, Roy opens the door and finds Jamie leaning over the sink. His grip is so tight his knuckles are white on the edge of the sink. From a slight distance, Roy does his best to look Jamie over for any sign of injury. No blood. That was good. But he could tell this hadn’t just started by the bloodshot, red-rimmed eyes that looked at him with regret and possibly fear. 

“Overslept,” Jamie manages. “Sorry.

Roy takes a deep and calming breath. Jamie is in better shape than he had expected, but the what-ifs still nag at him. He hauls Jamie into a hug. 

“Roy?” Jamie asks in confusion. 

“It's fine,” Roy says. “Everything's going to be fine.” Jamie isn't sure if he is saying it for him or not, but he doesn't fight it. He grips Roy's jacket tight. They stay like that for a bit.

“Come on,” Roy says, tugging Jamie by the wrist. “In,” Roy says, gesturing to Jamie's bed. 

“But we have training,” Jamie says with confusion.

“Not for a few hours,” Roy states. 

Jamie opens his mouth to argue, but his brain fails him when Roy removes his jacket and kicks off his shoes. “You going to stand there like a fucking prick, or you going to do as you're fucking told?”

Jamie silently crawls into his bed. He then watches in shock as Roy does too. Roy checks his phone, sets an alarm, and looks at Jamie. 

“Fucking relax, Jamie,” Roy says, then lays down. Arms open in invitation. “You look fucking knackered, and you had me fucking worried. So make up your mind.”

Jamie is not sure if he is dreaming, but he isn't going to argue. He cuddles into Roy's chest, and Jamie has never felt warmer or safer in his life. 

“Sleep, Tartt,” Roy tells him. And he does. 

Jamie wakes up warm and content for once. He reaches for his alarm but realizes it's on the wrong side of the bed. Then he remembers what happened. It was Roy's phone. Roy was the warm body beside him. And Jamie's heart soars. Roy had been the only reason Jamie has been able to function recently. He really adores Roy. 

“Feeling better?” Roy ask.

“Mmhmm,” Jamie hums. 

“Good because we have training, so up you get,” Roy says. 

Once Jamie is up and dressed, he heads down to find Roy in his kitchen drinking a cup of tea. He holds out a shake because he's gone over Jamie's routine with him multiple times. And Jamie knows he is officially lost on Roy fucking Kent. And Jamie knows there isn’t a way he is coming away from this anything but in love with his coach. Well, more so than he had been most of his life. He had fancied Roy for ages, but that had been that. Now Roy is in his kitchen and has spent the last hour sleeping in Jamie's bed with Jamie. 

“Jamie?” Roy calls, snapping Jamie out of his thoughts. He shakes the drink again. “Yes or no? If you can't, then we-”

Jamie accepts the shake with a quiet thank you. And Roy watches Jamie. He seems to be doing alright now. But Roy doesn't want him to get antsy, so the coach looks down at his tea. 

They head to Roy’s G wagon, Jamie not even arguing. It's quiet until Roy parks at Nelson Road.

“Now, you don't have to tell me what happened to cause what happened this morning, but…” Roy says, looking at Jamie. 

“Just something Zava said yesterday got under my skin. You said to ignore him, and I'm trying. It's just not easy. Didn't sleep well, but I'm okay now.” 

“Okay.” Roy reaches over and grips Jamie's shoulder. “If you need a break, tell me. We can take one.”

“Thanks,” Jamie smiles at him.

Shouting in the locker room has the coaches rushing out of the office. Dani Rojas and Colin Hughes stand between Jamie and Zava. 

“The fuck is wrong with you?!” Jamie spits. 

“I saw you with -” Zava starts, but Roy isn't having it. 

“Everyone shut the fuck up!” Roy shouts. Jamie's eyes snap to his. And Roy sees a red mark on Jamie's face and would have lost his shit if Beard hadn't gone to check Jamie's face. Jamie lets him. Beard doesn't miss how the striker keeps glancing at Roy.

“Nothing broken,” Beard assures them. 

“What in the blue blazes is going on in here?” Ted demands.

No one says anything—a number of players glancing at an irate Roy.

“Fine,” Ted says. “Beard, maybe a few laps will jog their memories.” 

The team groans, but they go out. 

“Not you,” Ted says to Jamie. Roy glares at the gaffer. The assistant coach swears he sees Zava smirks as he leaves. 

“You fucking kidding me?” Roy snaps, but much to Jamie's surprise, it isn't directed at him but at Ted.

“Look at his fucking face, and he's the one that in-”

Ted shakes his head. “You strangling the team’s wringer in front of them might damage morale a bit, coach.”

Roy grunts but doesn't say anything else because Ted has a point. If Zava had opened his mouth again, he’d have the imprint of Roy’s boot all over him. It’s a dangerous thought but an undeniable one. Zava touched Jamie, and that is just not fucking okay in Roy’s opinion. He’s still fucking livid though. 

“You alright, Jamie?” Ted asks the player. 

Roy’s anger gives way to concern at the way Jamie’s hands bunch up in his kit. The striker looked like a kid who got caught stealing biscuits. 

“Jamie,” Roy says as he goes over and tips Jamie's face up to look at him. A slight bruise forms and that has a mix of emotions swirling in Roy’s chest. “How much does it hurt?” Roy needs to know.

“‘m fine, Roy, nothing I can't handle it.”

“You used to handle broken ribs and not tell anyone,” Roy counters. “I need more than that, Tartt.”

Neither of them sees how shocked Ted is as he watches the pair. Roy went from furious to soft spectacularly fast in the gaffer’s book. And he isn’t sure he’d ever seen his assistant coach this gentle with anyone other than Phoebe.

“The team ended it before it could get worse,” Jamie says.

That gets Ted’s attention. “What exactly was ‘it’?” the head coach asks. Jamie looks between the coaches. Roy just reaches over and rubs Jamie's back. And Ted has even more questions now. But he knows he needs this answer first. 

“Zava told me I should be benched, that I'm a distraction, especially…” Jamie hesitates, looking up at Roy. Roy just nods. Jamie looks back to Ted. “Especially to Coach Kent.” Roy lets out a bitter laugh but doesn't say anything. His hand did not stop its repeated course along the striker’s spine. 

“How did that lead to you having a bruised face?” Ted asks.

“He had leaned into my space to say it, and you know me, I'm in and out of everyone's space always. So it shouldn’t have bothered me, but I didn't like it. I didn't want him there. So I shoved him back towards his spot. He didn't like that.”

“So a scuffle broke out until the boys stopped it,” Ted finishes. 

“Not exactly. It was more the team scrambling to protect Zava, and I don't know who, but I took an elbow to the face. I…I don't think it was intentional.” They look up as the door opens. A couple of members of the med team enter. “But he kept saying that he knew. Didn’t make any sense.”

“Right, okay,” Ted says. He waves them over to look over Jamie's face. He taps Roy's shoulder and nods at the office. Roy nods. Ted goes to the office. 

“You good?” Roy asks Jamie. 

“Yeah,” Jamie says, offering the coach a weak smile. “Not like I'm going anywhere.” He gestures to the medics.

Ted closes the door once Roy is inside. 

“Something you need to tell me, Coach?”

“Zava's a fucking prick and has been giving Jamie a hard time.”

“That’s it? I thought you helping train Jamie was working,” Ted says. “That he was right as rain.”

“I thought so, too, but he missed training this morning. Turns out Zava got under his skin yesterday like he just fucking did now, and with the anxiety Tartt already has, he barely slept. Found him crying and fucking gripping his counter like he didn't trust his own fucking legs. I got him to get a bit more sleep.” Ted didn't need to know that he did so by joining him in bed. “He is off his game already, and Zava just tipped the fucking scales. And now Zava thinks he fucking won. I'm not going to fucking sit here and let that prick isolate and bully-”

“And what is Jamie to you, huh? What's your next word, Roy? Your what?”

“Player,” Roy growls. “My fucking player. Because whatever you are implying, well, you can fuck off. And I'm fucking disappointed in you, Lasso. You made me put an end to the hazing of the kitman that fucking betrayed you. Betrayed all of us. But now that it's Zava targeting Jamie, who has been a fucking punching bag his whole fucking life, and you know it, it's nothing. Not on my fucking watch.”

“Alright, fair point,” Ted says. 

It is painfully silent until Ted goes to check on Jamie.

“He's good to play, just a bruise,” the medic tells them. 

“Great, let's get you out there,” Ted says, clapping Jamie on the shoulder. Jamie looks at Roy.

“Right behind you,” Roy assures him. 

Ted decided to keep a close eye on Zava, especially when he was anywhere near Jamie. Things went fine during drills. He didn't miss the way a few players glared at Jamie as they finished running laps. Ted called Beard over and sent him inside after a few words. Isaac had confirmed that Zava had been talking to Jamie, Jamie shoved Zava, and the team stepped in. No one owned up to knowingly elbowing Jamie. So Ted had them run drills. More glares. Jamie’s shoulders slumped, but he looked over at Roy. Roy went over.

“They're fucking idiots,” Roy tells Jamie. “He’ll fuck up eventually. Tip his hand. Don't let him drag you down. He did this. Not you. Keep going.”

Jamie nods and joins the team. 

Ted isn't sure he likes how Jamie keeps his head down. And Roy was right. Whenever someone glares at Jamie or ignores the other striker, Zava doesn't stop them. Zava seems to find it amusing. That was not good. 

A bit later, Beard comes out with a tablet. He waves Roy over. Jamie's attention is drawn to the coaches when he hears Roy swearing and leaving the field. Jamie fights the urge to follow him. He turns to head back to drills when a ball hits him in the head painfully hard.

Roy hadn’t even reached the tunnel. When hears several people shout Jamie’s name. Roy's blood ran cold as rushed back to the field.

“He was distracted,” he hears Zava say, and the only reason Zava isn't picking his teeth up off the pitch is because Beard catches him, followed by Will.

He knows what happened without even having to look. Although Jamie was waiting with all the other players, the drills were running away from him. Jamie had gotten hit. Hard. This means someone did it intentionally or had gotten very bad at the basics. 

“Jamie needs you,” Beard says. And that doesn't quell the other assistant coach’s rage, but it does change his direction.

“How is he?” Roy asks as he reaches Ted. 

“Conscious,” Ted tells him.

“For Zava's sake, he better stay that way. I swear-” 

“I know, Roy,” Ted says. “Go with him. We’ll handle it.”

“You fucking better,” Roy grits out before following the med team as they take Jamie away. 

“Roy!” Keeley joins him where he is waiting in the hall. He was watching the med team work through the glass window. “Rebecca said it was Jamie. What happened?” Roy hands her the tablet he had retrieved. Much like the locker room video, the video of what happened on the pitch was sent to him. Keeley played the video and gasped. Zava had kicked the ball directly at Jamie. And the striker had one hell of a kick. Jamie went down instantly. Jeff and Sam were there in seconds, followed by most of the team. 

“Poor Jamie,” Keeley says as she hands him the tablet.

“Stay with him,” Roy instructs as he walks away. 

“Where are you going?” she asks.

“To make sure this is fucking handled!” He spits back. 

Rebecca startles as the gaffer’s door is thrown open. 

“Roy,” Ted says as the manager drops back down in his chair. “The wall didn't deserve that, but I think we can ignore that for now.”

Rebecca frowns but agrees. 

“How is he?” She asks.

“Three fucking stitches and a concussion at least,” Roy says, going to grab a number of things from his desk. “Maybe worse, they were still with him.” He kicks his drawer when it doesn't close—the pair wince.

“Why aren't you?” Ted asks.

“Keeley’s there,” Roy states. 

“That's good,” Rebecca says.

“You say that now,” Roy tosses the tablet on the desk. The video paused on Zava kicking the ball.

“Roy…” Ted starts.

“Don't fucking, ‘Roy’ me. Fuck no. This fucking prick goes, or I do, Tartt too. I fucking told you he was fucking with him.”

“You don't mean-” Rebecca starts, but Roy cuts her off. 

“Fucking do it, or I will send that video to Sky fucking sports. I am FUCKING DONE!” Roy slams the door as he goes into the locker room. The handful of players in there flinch. He isn't sure if it's a blessing or a curse that Zava isn't there.

“What’s going on, Coach?” Sam asks as Roy moves to collect Jamie's things. 

“Is Jamie hurt bad?” Dani Rojas asks.

“Like any of you fucking care,” Roy angrily states.

“It's Jamie,” Dani says. “Of course we do.”

Roy bitterly laughs. “Could have fucking fooled me.” Once the coach is sure he has what he needs, he turns towards the team.

“I have never been so fucking disappointed in any fucking team in my life. This is exactly what he was terrified would happen. You fucking pricks didn't even fucking notice.”

The locker room was unusually quiet as the team prepared to leave after training. Zava isn't even there anymore. And no one has heard anything about Jamie yet. Roy had not come back. 

Sam checks his phone.

“Oh no,” he says. 

“What?” Colin asks. “What is it?”

“Check the team chat?” 

Colin frowns. 

One by one, the team is shocked that Roy and Jamie's numbers are removed from the team chat. 

“That's not good,” Jan Maas says. 

“No, it isn't.” Sam agrees. 

Keeley had been keeping Jamie company after the med team said he could go when the coach got back. She smiles at the way Jamie sits up as there is a knock at the open door, relaxing when he sees it’s only Roy. Jamie’s never been truly afraid of Roy, but she knew that Roy being there made Jamie feel safer. Like nothing, and no one is getting past Roy to get at him. It was actually rather adorable. Roy was like that with people he cared for, especially those he loved. And she had a feeling Jamie was now one of those very select few. Roy loved Jamie. Jamie loved Roy. She knew it. She just hoped they’d figure it out sooner rather than later.  

“Time to go,” Keeley says. She gets up and kisses Jamie's less injured cheek. “Call me if you need anything. Get better, babe.” She pats Roy’s cheek as she passes him.

“Here,” Roy sets Jamie's stuff. “Can't have you in your bloody kit. Then we can head out.”

Jamie goes to stand up and wobbles on his feet, and Roy knows that's not going to work. He kicks the door closed. “Right, let's get this done.” He carefully helps Jamie change. He avoids making eye contact with the striker as he does because that was a line Roy couldn’t cross now. He wasn’t sure his fucking heart could take it. A bruised Jamie Tartt, shirtless and trusting Roy to look after him. That did fucking things to Roy that Roy was not ready to deal with. Especially since Jamie had a concussion. 

“Thanks,” Jamie mumbles since his system is flooded with painkillers. 

“Ready?” Roy asks.

“Yeah,” Jamie says with a nod. He winces at the flair of pain that causes. 

“Alright, words are fine. No need to rattle your brain even more.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Jamie barely says anything as Roy drives to Jamie's flat. He manages to get the injured striker inside, cleaned up and in bed. Jamie is in and out of it most of the day. It's not until the following day that Jamie really wakes up, his head throbbing, and realizes that Roy has spent the night and has been taking care of him. Jamie finds pills and water beside his bed and a note telling him to take them and come downstairs. Jamie can barely look at his own face in the mirror as he does what he needs to in the bathroom. He shouldn't be surprised to find Roy in his kitchen again, but this time Roy moves to meet him as Jamie makes it down the stairs.

“Morning,” Roy says. “Seem more steady on your feet already.”

Jamie hums and shuffles to the kitchen.

“Sit,” Roy tells him, and Jamie does. Roy gets him a cup of tea and a plate of food. “Eat.” Jamie looks unsure.

“Jamie,” Roy says, lowering himself to Jamie's eye level. “You need to eat, or those pills will tear up your stomach. And with all the stomach issues you’ve had recently, we don't want to make it worse.” Jamie agrees and eats. That's when he notices the time. The team would be well into training. And Jamie understands why he isn't going to training. But Roy should be there.

“Not going in?” he asks.

“No,” Roy states. Jamie can't see all that well right now, but he can still tell that Roy doesn't look happy. 

“Roy, you don't have to babysit me,” Jamie insists.

“Your loss,” Roy says. “Phoebe thinks I'm a fantastic sitter.”

“She's 8, and you are her most favorite person in the world,” Jamie says.

“Yeah, because I'm the best fucking sitter,” Roy says with no sign of sarcasm or humor.

“You're serious, aren't you?” Jamie asks.

“You're head's fucked enough, you don't need me being a prick.”

“Okay, but-”

“I'm not going in because I told them if they don't fucking deal with Zava, then I'm not going back.”

Jamie can’t believe Roy gave them an ultimatum because of him. “You have to go back,” Jamie tells him.

“Not really,” Roy assures him.

“The team needs you,” Jamie argues. 

“The team needs not to have a fucking asshole that does this kind of shit on fucking purpose.” And Roy knows he fucked up when Jamie rushes to his feet. Roy follows Jamie as the younger man barely reaches the toilet to lose what little he has eaten. Unfortunately, that means his meds too. And between the pain and the anxiety, Jamie can't take it. He sobs, and Roy holds him tight. 

Roy doesn't move other than to comfort the injured man. Only when Jamie can breathe without gasping does he even consider it.

“Why?” Jamie manages to ask.

“Why would I not go back?” Roy asks for clarification.

Jamie nods. 

“Because I'm not going to work for a fucking hypocrite. Lasso made me deal with you when you were a prick, and you changed for the better. He let Zava do the same shit too long, and it's only because he pulled this shit in front of the whole fucking team and was caught on security cameras; it’s a problem. Told them to deal with it, or I would send the video to Sky Sports.”

“Is that even legal?”

“He knew what the fuck he was doing,” Roy tells him. “And so do I. Zava wants to keep his fucking reputation, then he has to fucking leave.”

“And if we start losing again?”

“Is the league worth the fucking pain? Seriously, this fucking idiot is beyond fucking help. I won't watch him ruin your life just so the team wins. I'm sure the team would agree if they knew.”

In the afternoon, Jamie's phone is practically blowing up with messages, and his head hurts. So Roy tucks him back in and takes his phone so he can let the pain meds work and get some rest. 

“The fuck did you do?” Roy answers his phone.

“Hello to you too, Coach,” Ted says. “How is he?”

“I had to take his phone away because he threw up his morning meds, and it was constantly going off.”

“We showed the team the video,” Ted says. “So they could understand why Zava is off the team.”

“So he's gone, good. Fucking took long enough.”

“Had to ensure he wouldn't try to turn this around on us. Or worse, you and Jamie.” 

“If any of those idiots show up here and ring the doorbell, I will make them miserable.”

“They shouldn't. They know he needs to rest and heal.”

“Good.”

“I’ll tell him when he wakes up.”

Roy sits on the edge of Jamie's bed. He gives in and runs his hands gently through Jamie's hair to wake him. He can’t lie to himself any longer. He cares for Jamie a lot more than he should, but he can’t help himself. He smiles at the way Jamie hums and leans into Roy’s touch. 

“Got good news,” Roy says, which seems enough to wake Jamie the rest of the way. “Zava's off the team, and the team’s more worried about you than anything.”

“He's gone, and they aren't mad?”

“Not mad at you, for you, maybe, but not at you.”

“Not mad at you either, right?”

“Maybe, but only because I took your phone away so they couldn't talk to you.”

That makes Jamie chuckle. 

“This means you're going back, right?” Jamie asks.

“Yes, now up you get. Food. Meds. Then you can have your phone.”

Jamie hates sitting on the sidelines as the team struggles to score match after match. Knowing he's the reason Zava is gone twists something in his stomach. And knowing that the team has a friendly in fucking Amsterdam, of all places, makes him even more anxious. Roy is worried even before anyone packs for the trip. Keeley had texted Roy that she was supposed to help him pack since she hadn't spent much time with Jamie recently, but Jamie's not acting like his usual self. He might get to play in Amsterdam, so they both figure it's nerves about getting back into it. So Roy goes over. The three of them get dinner, but Keeley has to leave after. Roy thinks Jamie's doing okay, but the minute the coach asks what Jamie's going to do outside of the match in Amsterdam, he sees how Jamie starts to sweat and pale slightly. 

“Jamie, look at me,” Roy says, and when Jamie seems to be too in his own head, Roy grips the striker’s face as gently as he can since he is still a bit sore. “I'm here, Jamie. You don't have to be scared of anything. You can tell me or don't tell me. But I'm not going to leave you like this. Fuck, I'll pack your fucking bag, you might not like it, but I will.” That earns a breathy laugh from the player. “I'll be with you every step of the way if you need me to.”

Jamie can't help it. He leans his forehead against Roy's and closes his eyes. Because that actually is extremely helpful. It does make him feel so much better.

“Fuck it,” Roy mutters. With a hand on the back of Jamie's neck, he shifts until his lips find Jamie’s own. He feels that Jamie shutters at the sensation before it's like the younger man puts all his energy into returning the kiss. When they break for air, Roy checks to ensure Jamie's cuts don't reopen. Jamie crawls into Roy's lap and kisses him. 

“Feeling better?” Roy says, a slight grin pulling at his features. 

“Fucking fantastic,” Jamie grins.

#tw: anxiety #tw: vomiting #tw: nausea #tw: panic #tw: fear #tw: manipulation #tw: verbal harassment #tw: physical violence #tw: bruising #tw: injury #tw: blood #tw: head injury #tw: concussion #tw: ultimatums #tw: stitches #tw: medical treatment #tw: mentions of abuse #tw: angst #tw: anger #tw: swearing #tw: cussing #tw: cursing #roy x jamie #jamie x roy #royjamie #roy kent x jamie tartt #jamie tartt x roy kent #ted lasso fic #jamie tartt #roy kent

[andrea-lyn]

What's worse than getting sick while your significant other is away? Getting sick when your stubborn future in-law is home at the Barns with you and won't admit that they're sick too. Is stubborn pride worth suffering in silence and refusing to admit that you're worse for the wear?

If it means losing a game of sick chicken, then for both Adam and Declan, it is.

Basically exists because of a ‘hurt no comfort’ trope that started cycling in my brain, which was then invaded by the stubborn duo that is Adam Parrish and Declan Lynch.

#fic #sickfic #trc #raven cycle fic #adam parrish #declan lynch #tw: nausea #tw: illness

[galactia]

He’s on the floor. His head is throbbing, relentless and constant enough that his eyes have begun to water. It’s really all he can do to breathe without getting sick. He’ll be fine-.... he. He’ll-.... just stay there.

#kaeya//open #kaeya//rp #tw: nausea #tw: migraine #tw: headache #[ curse effects curse effects #O.O #talked with Timmy about this earlier. #I do not have a lot of brain power right now but! ]

[playingsick]

I got so nauseous this evening, well it was more like indigestion mixed with cramps that was making me feel feel sick my best friend said she was also feeling nauseous whilst we were texting and since we're huge HUGE empaths for each other I jokingly said 'that's probably me I feel nauseous because of pms I'm sorry lmao' she then replied with 'you've probably amplified my nausea. Fuck you lmao'. She said she went to the bathroom and dry heaved since she had nothing to bring up but she felt better, meanwhile coincidentally my nausea had also began to get better too.. Oddly fascinating.

#irl nausea #irl vomit #tw: nausea #emeto rp #vomit rp