#i wanted to draw this but i have a bad migraine the painkillers worked but i'm pretty confused

[masschase]

Rowvember Day 18: Opera

So idk whether this is silly posting hcs, but the truth is, Rowvember has genuinely helped me get back into regular posting and I want to keep that momentum. Bc I don't want to stray too far from the fandom on here. I love you guys 😊

I'm of the opinion that Pierce would occasionally bug the other Saints to come with him to an opera, and Casey would acquiesce bc their friendship means a lot to her. It's not her thing at all but she would at least pay attention to it and try to seem interested.

She would inevitably fall asleep on his shoulder though, because she's a morning lark and also sleeps badly in general. He would let her, because he knows all that, and because her friendship means a lot to him too.

[moonstruckme]

Could I request more soft dom Remus!! Maybe reader forgets to take care of her self because she is too caught up in her work and Remus loving sets her straight and just takes care of her🙏🏻 you are lovely my dear❤️❤️

Thanks for requesting!

cw: implied d/s dynamics, migraine

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 730 words

The couch springs groan beside you. You reach blindly for the tea Remus has brought you, eyes still on your laptop. 

“Look here, dove.” 

Your head turns before your mind has caught up to it, one hand still typing out the end of a word. Remus is scrutinizing you, your tea held firmly in his grasp. 

“Close your laptop.” 

“What? Why?” 

Remus gives you a look. “Weren’t you just telling me your head is hurting?” 

You chew the inside of your lip, but stand your ground. “Yeah.” 

“The laptop’s not helping with that, darling.” 

“Finishing my report will.” 

“You’re not finishing anytime soon, and the light’s not good for you.” 

He reaches for your laptop, and you draw it closer to you protectively. “It’ll be bad for me whenever I do it, so I may as well finish tonight.” 

“Enough.” Remus’ voice firms up. “Close it.” 

You scowl but do, saying a silent prayer that you remember all you’d wanted to say when you pick it back up again. Remus takes your laptop, moving it out of reach before he finally passes you your tea. The steam feels nice, and though you’d rather die than admit it you can feel the muscles in your face relax almost immediately. You blow on it gently.

A hand on your leg makes you look up at your boyfriend. Remus’ expression has gentled, a softer brand of concern in his eyes where they meet yours. 

“You wanna come here?” he asks. 

He helps you find your way into his lap, one of your thighs on either side of his. He draws slow, soothing strokes up your sides. One hand finds your face, thumb dimpling your lip. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, not without humor. “I know you wanted to keep working, but your body was tired of it.” Remus moves his thumb to kiss you, soft and lingering. “You’re your own worst enemy when you get like this, dove.” 

Your sullen mood gives way easily under the weight of his devotion. “I’m sorry,” you sigh. 

“I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to take better care of yourself.” He studies your face. “Have you had painkillers?” 

“No.” 

A wry smile. “How did I already know you were going to say that?” 

Remus reaches into his pocket, pulling out a couple of pills he no doubt fetched while the kettle was boiling. He passes them to you, watches as you down them with your tea. 

You watch him back as you swallow, feeling shyer than you did a minute ago. “Thanks, Rem.” 

“Don’t mention it.” He smooths a piece of hair away from your eye. His thumb lands on your temple, beginning to drill small circles. 

If your enthrallment with his touch weren’t enough, the skill with which Remus does the motion would be. It’s hypnotic. Your eyes fall closed, head listing forward. Remus chuckles and encourages it the rest of the way with his other hand on the back of your neck, letting you rest on his shoulder. How could anyone say that soulmates don’t exist, when the curve of his neck seems so perfectly fitted to your face? 

“You’re going to let me look after you now?” he asks warmly. 

You manage a feeble hum of assent. 

Remus is massaging your head with both hands now, deft fingers smoothing over your scalp and working their way gradually towards the tensed muscles of your neck. “Good girl.” Your body goes warm and loose at the praise. Your forehead rests heavily upon Remus’ shoulder. 

His quiet voice takes on an amused hue as he asks, “And what are you going to do the next time your head starts to hurt while you’re working?” 

You whine. “Remus.” 

“I just need to hear it from you once, dove.” 

You sigh. You think for a second that you might just pretend to fall asleep to avoid saying it, but the pressure of Remus’ fingers lessen until they’re barely there at all. He’s waiting for you.

“It starts with a b,” he hints. 

You’re glad he can’t see you scowling into his shoulder. “I’ll take a break.” 

“There we go.” Remus’ fingers resume their work, and you can feel the chuckle brewing in his chest as he turns his head to kiss your temple. “I know we’ll do better next time, won’t we?”

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Hi bubbles! Absolutely love your st fics, can you write a little something about how they would react/take care of reader who's in (some) pain of some sort? (no pressure you can just ignore this)❤️❤️❤️

Hello, gorgeous. Thank you for being a part of our crew. 🫧✨ I will base it on my migraines

Vessel

Would hate it just like they all would. Seeing a person you love in pain is never easy. He tries to ensure that you find comfort in the smallest ways. “What else can I do?”, he would ask softly after running through the whole usual routine. Wanting to know that he was doing it all. “Just lay with me”, you would mutter, pulling the side of the blanket up. Vessel wouldn’t hesitate even for a moment, carefully climbing behind you.

“Should I give you a shoulder massage? Might help relieve the pain slightly?”, he asks making you hum. Slowly helping you sit down before your back is pressed against his chest. He lets you lean on him like that for a bit. Not wanting to disturb your comfortable position. Slowly reaching up to brush his fingers down the back of your neck. A light hiss slips past your lips, “That’s the spot huh”, he asks repeating the motion.

ii

Ever since you told him he had the meds you usually use on him all the time. Aware that not everything worked and that you had been a victim of forgetting your medication, ii now made sure that never happened again.

You’re driving home after having dinner with the boys. Leaving early since the sharp pain had made me practically cry out in pain. ii had watched you trying to play it down. “I can stay for a couple more hours, love”, you had promised him, cupping his cheek lovingly. “We’re going home”, and it wasn’t a suggestion. It was a statement.

He had pulled out the already premixed packet with his teeth before handing it to you. Sneaking glance your way as he drove. Hand on your thigh, in hopes of soothing you. Your own wrapped over his, nails digging into his skin. “How are you holding up?”, ii asked glancing your way. You had been breathing way too shallow for ii’s liking. “Pull over”, you whimpered. Taking ii by surprise as he went full alert mode, “What?,” “Pull over ii”,’ and you’re already grabbing for the handle, he’s messily turning right, before you lean over, gagging.

“Not bad my ass”, ii grunt, leaning over to grab a water bottle from the back, before undoing your seatbelt. “Try to breathe”, his fingers brush over your back before he moves over to hand you the water. You pull up trembling slightly, “I will puke if I drink that”, you push at the bottle, leaning your head against the seat. “Breathe for some time and we will try”, he suggests, heart breaking watching you like this.

iii

He notices the smallest of changes. Especially if it’s a pattern-based pain like a migraine. He sees you blinking differently. The burning irritating your eyes. “Do you feel a migraine coming?”, he would ask softly, instantly lowering the sound of the TV. “Probably… been feeling so weird all day”, you grunt, putting pressure on your temples. “Should have told me”, iii huffed standing up.

“Did you drink your water?”, he shoots you a look that’s met with your guilty eyes, “I just got so busy at the office today”. “You’re lucky that you’re cute or I would be whipping your ass”, he shakes his head before disappearing into the kitchen. Not even moments later, iii is walking back, hands full.

“Onto your back you go”, he missions before, handing you a cold cap. “Yes, doctor iii”, you muse, following his lead. “Very funny”, iii shoots you thine smile, “I want this empty in 20 min”, “iii, I can’t drink all of that”, you whine at the sight of a 1l cup. “Humor me. Down that then a cracker then painkillers”, he sits on the edge of the sofa, hand instantly drawing circles onto your thighs. “Are you gonna watch me drink?”, you ask after a moment of him just looking at you. “That’s exactly what’s going to happen”, he shrugs, making you let out a slight chuckle.

Ivy

The dim lights are a dead giveaway of what has finally caught up to you. So he’s trying to be as quiet as possible as he moves across your shared apartment, only to find you with your head against the toilet bowl. “Hun”, he sighs, “you should have called”, kneeling beside you, Ivy pushes a strand of hair away from your pale face. Your eyes barely open as you look up at him. “Did you get sick?”, he asks watching as you slowly shake your head.

“Do I want to know how long you have been sitting here like this?”, he moves over as you once again shake your head. “I will lift you, okay?” You don’t answer him, simply reaching one hand to him before slumping into his chest. “I’ve got you now”, he breathes against your forehead, “Will take care of you”. And he does just that. Bringing you your meds and water. Some ginger biscuits for nausea, before climbing into bed next to you. Slowly moving his fingers through your scalp. Massaging the tender skin. Staying up all night through your restless sleep, making sure you drink your meds in needed timeframe or drink some water every time you wake up.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Same as it ever was 11

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as neglect, bullying, manipulation, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Between your home life and work, you just can’t catch a break. Especially after you draw the ire of your boss.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen ft. Pete Brenner

Note: I'm just tryna get through the week.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The waiting room is excruciating. You find yourself standing more than you sit. Both are torture. Your concern mounts with your discomfort and the more you think of Hansen’s response. He’s a demanding asshole, he told you several times he takes what he wants, but today, he let you go. Even he could see something was seriously wrong.

Funny how you never dread the doctor so much when you’re there for Simone or Malik, but for yourself, it makes your insides knot. You can’t even think of the last time you made an appointment for yourself. That’s probably not good either.

As the doctor examines you and goes over your symptoms, you wince and struggle not to keel over. He’s patient and gentle, treatment you’re unused to. That stray realisation is even grimmer as it sticks in your head.

“Hmm, I’m going to be optimistic and say it’s a bruised tailbone,” he explains, “we can send you for imaging to check for a fracture but it wouldn’t likely be possible today. I’ll call the lab with a request, just to make sure.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” you lean on the examination table, “so what does that mean? Painkillers? Stretches?”

“Rest,” he points at you with his gold pen, “avoid sitting. You want to keep pressure off the tailbone. Lay on your stomach when you sleep.” He tucks his pen in his coat pocket and goes to the cabinet in the corner by the sink, “you’ll want to keep this handy.” He opens the door and slips out a box, “it’ll help.”

As he gives you the box, you consider the image of the donut cushion on the front. The inflatable seat is stuffed into the tight package. You’re not unfamiliar with it.

“Apply ice. Every twenty minutes for the next two days, then two to three times a day should work,” he takes his pen out and his little pad, writing as he talks. “Make your husband do some of the chores.”

You cringe. You nod as you accept his advice. You were just about to argue; you have two kids and a job.

“I’m writing you a note. You’re not working for a week at least. I’ll fax a letter that should be acceptable for the time-off,” he rips off the top page and hands it over.

“Thank you,” you utter again as you look at his chicken scratch. “What is this?”

“Something for the pain and something for your blood pressure.”

“My blood pressure?”

“Your readings are elevated. It could be stress, it could be anything. Right now, I want you to keep track. Measure it and write it down. Come back in a month so we can go over the numbers.”

“Is it that bad?”

“At your age, it’s not entirely unusual,” he assures you, “better we catch it before it’s too serious. You get headaches? Feel tired?”

“Well, I have kids, I’m always tired and yes, they give me headaches sometimes,” you shrug.

“How often do the headaches come?”

“I don’t know, sometimes two or three times a week.”

“Do you have a history of migraines?”

“Not since college,” you answer.

“Ah,” he nods. “Take the pills, icy your tailbone, and stay in bed.”

“Doctor,” you go to argue.

“If it isn’t already a break, you’ll make it one,” he girds, “the lab will call you about your imaging appointment.”

You swallow down his orders. They’re much easier to follow than Hansen’s. And surely better for you. You thank him once more and leave the room, stopping by the counter to give your work address and get your imaging paperwork.

As you get to the car, you unpack the cushion and use the little pump to inflate it. You drop it on the seat and get in. It still hurts like a bitch but not intolerable. You sit behind the wheel and stare. 

You could cry as you go over the appointment. Is it that obvious that you don’t take care of yourself? That you don’t have time? The doctor saw right through you and that brings it all flooding in. You’re barely holding it all together, you’re not sure how much longer you can.

You make yourself start the car and pull out of the lot. You go down to the pharmacy and turn in the script, wandering the aisles as you wait for it to be filled. You take out your phone to check the time. A missed call from Pete and another from Hansen. You don’t have the energy for either of them. Once you have your meds, you have to get the kids.

You claim your prescriptions and start your race against time. Waiting to see the doctor alone took up the bulk of your day. Now you have to get through the rest.

You nearly speed up to the curb of the school, at the tail end of the pick-up as the clock ticks on. You roll around as you see Simone and Malik waiting with Mrs. Guinness. You roll down the window and wave, thanking her loudly as the kids rush to the car.

You get out to strap Malik into his seat as Simone grips her book in her lap but doesn’t open it. You’re breathing loudly as the pain coils around your spine. You muffle it and give her a smile as she watches you. Her eyes dart to the front seat.

“Mom, are you okay?”

“Good,” you say as you snap the buckles together.

“What’s that for?” She points to the cushion.

“The seat’s uncomfortable,” you grunt and push yourself out of the back door. 

You shut the door and get in the front. You settle in, clicking in your own belt and fix your mirror. Simone is smart, too smart. She’s quiet as you shift into drive.

“Mommy, mommy! We played a game today–”

“Shh,” Simone interjects, silencing her brother, “mom,” she utter tenuously, “are you pregnant?”

You nearly scoff as you grip the wheel tight. You laugh and shake your head. “Why would you ask that?”

“Well…” she lets her thoughts hang in the air before she speaks to them, “you and dad have been… arguing and you have that cushion.”

“Trust me, I’m too old,” you shake your head, “don’t worry, you won’t be having another little brother.”

“Oh,” she hums, disappointed, “I was hoping for a sister.”

You take a breath. It’s all so complicated but some of it isn’t. They’re going to know sooner than later.

“Look, the cushion is because I hurt myself. I was waiting until we got home to tell you but I fell and hit my bum pretty bad. Got some bruising is all,” you explain lightly, “doctor says I’m good, just need to rest.”

“Mommy’s hurt?” Malik babbles. 

“Oh,” Simone accepts again, “I… does dad know?”

“He’s been working but I’m gonna give him a call,” you fight to keep your tone steady, “he’s gonna have to come home and help me out a bit.”

“Mommy, you can have Donny, he’ll make you feel better.”

“Mal, she doesn’t want your stupid dragon.”

“Sim,” you rebuff, “don’t be mean. Malik, you can bring Donny in to snuggle with me, okay? That’s really nice of you.”

“Ugh,” Simone huffs and you see her roll her eyes in the rear view.

“Sim, do you have enough time between chapters to help with dinner?” You tease. She doesn’t answer. “Oh, don’t worry, I can manage some mac and cheese on my own.”

You flip on the radio and let the music waft through the car, trying to push away the other worries. You are going to have to call Pete but you really don’t know how much help he’s going to be.

🗄️

You pull into the driveway and repress a groan. You’re really starting to feel it. Your legs are numb yet painful. You push yourself out of the car and grab your purse and the cushion, your keys jingling loudly in your hand.

You open the back door but Simone’s too quick. She’s right beside you, waving you off.

“I’ll get him out,” she insists, “the doctor said.”

“I know what the doctor said,” you chuckle, “thanks, Sim.”

Another car door snaps shut from somewhere unseen. You don’t think much of it as other neighbours often get home at the same time. You wait patiently for your daughter to unbuckle Malik as he squirms impatiently.

“About damn time,” the timbre roils in the air hotly.

You almost let a ‘shit’ slip through your lips as Hansen’s voice makes you tense. You squeeze the cushion and look over Simone’s head at him. She lifts Malik down onto the ground and she turns to face your uninvited guest.

“Ew, it’s him,” she sneers.

“Nice to see you too, toots,” he struts up the walk with his hands in his pockets, “isn’t this sweet? Got the whole clan together.”

“What are you doing here?” Simone challenges.

He tilts his head, brows arching, “you know, maybe I should give your mom some time off so she can teach you some manners.”

“Hansen,” you put your hand on Simone’s shoulder and sidle past her and echo the same question, “what are you doing here?”

“I’m actually being a good guy,” he leans around, speaking to Simone pointedly, “not evil at all. Checking in since I sent you off to the hospital.”

You hesitate. That’s not exactly believable. You know why he’s here; to taunt you. At least he has the discretion to try to hide that from your children.

“Bruised tailbone, doctor is sending a letter, I’ll have to take a few days off to recover,” you say cautiously, knowing he won’t like the news.

“A few days…” he mulls with a sour expression, “bullsh–” he stops himself as Malik comes for to cling to your leg, peeking out from behind you.

“Mommy,” your son whines, “I wanna go inside.”

“Tell him to go away,” Simone hisses.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hansen, I gotta get the kids inside and make dinner–”

“You can do all that but you can’t drag your –behind– to work,” he challenges.

“I have a doctor’s note–”

“I don’t f–” he struggles to censor himself, stopping as he waves off his agitation. He exhales and wipes the frustration from his face, “you’re right. You’re in bad shape, it’s plain to see. So where’s the husband? Shouldn't he be here doing the heavy lifting?”

“My dad’s on his way home,” Simone insists.

“Yeah, he’ll be here soon,” you repeat her lie, “to help.”

“Well, he ain’t,” Hansen bounces on his feet, “but I am, so why don’t I help you out, huh? We need you back to work,” he reaches for your purse, latching onto the strap. “So you should rest.”

“Dude, go,” Simone snarls and pushes his arm.

“Hey,” he growls back at her. “I’m helping.”

“We don’t want your help. She’s not at work, you don’t boss her around here.”

“Simone, Mr. Hansen,” you snip, “please.”

“I’m being a nice guy,” Lloyd retracts his hand and throws it up, “she’s the one making this hard.”

You look at your daughter as she sticks her tongue out.

“She’s twelve,” you state.

“Yeah, and what are you? Sixty?” Simone accuses him.

He recoils, his lashes batting violently, “excuse me?”

“Oh my god,” you sigh, “Simone, take your brother inside,” you hold your keys out, “let me talk to him. It’s just work.”

“And the doctor said–”

“Please, Simone, thank you,” you shake the keys.

She sniffs and takes them. She blows a raspberry at Hansen as she grabs Malik and tears him away from your legs. You rub your neck, the donut cushion around your elbow, as you wait, staring at Hansen as he watches over your shoulder.

“Why?” You ask pointedly.

“What? I’m being good. I let you see a doctor for your fucked up booty and now I’m just tryna fill the hole left by that deadbeat–”

“Not in front of my kids,” you say.

“I was polite.”

“You are arguing with a twelve year old,” you shake your head, “please, I will do my best to get back to work. I know you don’t give a shit but I’m in so much pain, I can’t handle this right now. So please, go.”

“Huh, alright, let’s understand something here, you might be a little broken at the moment but you don’t tell me what to do,” he snarls, “that’s the first thing. Second, you put a muzzle on that daughter–”

“Don’t,” you warn.

“That mouth,” he points in your face, “it’s the ass that’s bruised, not that.”

You clamp your lips tight as your nostrils flare. You stand in a deadlock, silently glaring back at your boss. You feel the tension ready to snap. This is the moment where you could fuck everything up.

Neither of you speak, each measuring your next word but almost afraid to say it. A screech of tires veers in behind your car and fills the end of the driveway. You flinch and look past Hansen as Pete’s garish sports car beams back at you.

“Just in time,” Hansen mutters as he turns slowly.

Pete hops out and swings the door shut, almost frantic as his hair flops forward.

“Hey, I’ve been calling,” he puffs and stops short as he notices Hansen, “uh, everything okay? Where… are the kids?”

“Inside,” you eke out, clearing the frog from your throat, “everything is good, alright?” You try to convince yourself as much as your husband, “Mr. Hansen was just checking in. I missed work today. I went to see the doctor about… my fall.”

Pete blanches and nods, giving a guilty glance to his leather shoes.

“Yeah?” He dares to look at you, “you okay?”

“Bruised,” you answer bluntly, “so I was just telling Mr. Hansen that I am fine. I just need a few days to rest. And I was going to call to tell you the same but I had to get the kids.”

“Your wife’s a busy woman,” Hansen interjects, “hard worker. And she speaks so highly of you, bud.” He claps Pete’s shoulder, “you’re a businessman?”

Pete twitches, as if surprised. He looks at Hansen’s grasp on his shoulder but doesn’t shove it off. There’s a moment of recognition in his eye. Men and their ‘business’.

“Yeah, I run a fitness agency. We do equipment and training, aiming to get into the big leagues, you know, furnish facilities on the National scale,” Pete goes into his pitch.

“Ah, fitness, thriving right now,” Hansen slips easily into his role, “you know, I’m not wearing Louis Vuittons because I work in a dipshit office. I invest and I do it well.” He pulls his hand back and puts it on his hip, “why don’t you tell me more about this agency? I’m intrigued.”

You just stare. This has been an awful, painful day and it just won’t end.

“Uh, yeah, sure, come on in,” Pete sputters excitedly, waving him up the drive. “I got all my stuff in my bag.”

“Great, dinner’s on me,” Hansen offers, “for your time.”

“Oh, awesome,” Pete grins, “I’ll just get my bag out of the car. Honey,” he turns to you.

“Uh, yeah,” you swallow as Hansen faces you with a smirk, “right this way.”

You turn and hug the cushion against your stomach, each step tender and tingling. You sense him behind you, too close for comfort. He snickers quietly as you get to the door. You stop with your hand on the handle.

“Please,” you whisper.

“Be good and I will be, too,” he shoots back.

[airrika]

ok so since my arm literally got cooked and I can’t draw for a bit I’m gonna drop these cuz they been sitting in my freezer

PETRONA HCS

-she is a strong leader but it’s not natural. She had to learn how to lead

-she doesn’t want people to know this but she does care about her appearance to a decent extent

-she also doesn’t want people to know her affection. She cannot have people knowing she cares about them, oh the horror

-Nobody wants to play card games with Petrona bc she tracks cards. She knows what someone is about to put down and it’s just. not fun anymore lol

-secretly superrr competitive can’t handle losing. In any game she’ll play until she wins and then will stop immediately so she doesn’t lose again

-good dexterity, also knows more sleight of hand than you’d expect; it’s not just with cards but with coins and other small objects. It’s something she liked as a child, and because she can have a good neutral or poker expression shes skilled at misdirection, which is essential for not just tricks but..many other things

-despite being a good public speaker, she’d rather avoid making conversation. She either comes across as too hostile, cold, or apathetic, and sometimes she really isn’t trying to. She’s also unconsciously shy and there’s not much to talk abt

-only comfortable in a conversation when talking about work

-interesting in that she can’t hold a normal, non-work related conversation well but can somehow pull up with the most creative and ruthless insults when going off on somebody

-unassuming bisexual disaster, that likely leans more towards women her dessert orders being so fucking fruity is not a coincidence. But also probably can’t talk to women normally

-when she’s not stressed she’s actually a lot more pleasant (let’s be real tho when is that💀) she may not show any more emotion but she’s nicer in her words and more easygoing

-not legally blind but not great without her glasses, wears contacts sometimes but def prefers glasses

-can stay quiet for a very long time. In social settings she chooses her words carefully and often just doesn’t say them at all (when she’s not angry)

-hot days really piss her off like girl is already in a terrible mood the moment she reads the forecast or steps outside

-her voice is sort of flat throughout except when she’s yelling at someone. Tbh her yelling is also not very pitchy despite being at a raised volume

-played violin as a child and was good at it but she quit bc she got too busy w other things. Thinking of picking it back up again tho bc it was fun

-likes aquariums. Probably a combination of the dim light or the alien nature of some marine creatures (ex. Jellyfish or those ones that look like plants) but it’s a place where she feels grounded

-only herself and a few others can actually read her handwriting. She prefers to type fast anyway so she only writes when she has to, but she also likes writing fast…it’s pretty but illegible

-enjoys seafood, especially whitefish, can and will eat almost any type but oysters are a hard nope

-also has pretty high pain and spice tolerance

-she’s subjective to migraines that are rare but extremely severe to the point of hospitalization, so she always has painkillers on her just in case. Also gets motion sick easily —like if she’s not the one driving she gets kinda sick

-she is used to functioning on very little sleep but it also makes her cranky asf. at work she has literally been banned from the coffee machine because she was getting too much in one day

-doesn’t really get sick but if she does it’s always bad. like down for a week+ bad

-stature-wise she’s not very intimidating but she has this magnitude/aura that radiates authority. Also has a perfect rbf Plus the way she carries herself and looks at people conveys that she is prickly and that alone is scary af

-lonely but afraid to get close to people. She’s always been independent and worries she’ll hurt people she gets attached to bc it’s happened so many times

-book-wise brilliant, and can think on the spot quite well + pick up patterns and logistics that others might not, but not sharp with emotions. She can’t rly read when someone is hurting and assumes everyone is like her, where they keep emotions hidden. This happens when she accidentally goes too far with her words (and makes people cry) and then she stops and feels guilty for a while.

-her 💅anxiety💅 is masked by outward aloofness and hostility

-Also she has a massive fear of failure and spirals if she does fail. She has perfectionist tendencies and plans everything meticulously to make sure failure doesn’t happen. When things don’t go according to what she planned it’s literally like knocking a Jenga tower over and she goes a tiny bit insane

[dutifullyshamelessearthquake]

In line with @myfriendscallmeasimp (I hope you’re feeling better btws!!) I also have to live a Sickfic and i don’t know if I can be as brave as them 😭

migraines. Fucking migraines. Thankfully it’s not so bad yet that I can’t look at my screen but the way the right side of my head is being squeezed into oblivion..idk man. I have things I want to do today!! I want to draw! I’ve got work!! I have to clean!! But all I van think about is sleeping until this goes away and praying it doesn’t start making me nauseous cuz then I simply have to stop existing.

but it’s fine cuz it’s just a Sickfic 🥲 tighnari for example is the king of this situation. But because I’m a cyno suffering Stan…I’m imagining him having a migraine like for the first time. And he’s so confused. “It’s just a headache I’ll take a painkiller nbd” cut too him slowly growing more frustrated as he tries to go about his day. At its peak he’s convinced he’s dying and it’s not until Tighnari steps in (maybe cyno is lying in the dark in the bathroom lol) and explains what’s goin on and can help him find some relief.

Cyno would be forever extra extra considerate the next time Tighnari has one. I mean he already is ofc. He’d do anytbing for him. but now even more so

Oh no!! Migraines are awful, I'm so sorry! 😭 It's the worst when you have things you want to do, but your body has other plans. I really hope you feel better soon!!

Wait wait WAIT, I actually love that trope!! A character getting a migraine for the first time and not really understanding what's going on, until another character gently tells them "you're okay. you're having a migraine."

ARGH! SO GOOD! Oh my gosh, I've thought about writing this with Kazugorou (since Kazuha's used to migraines but Gorou haven't experienced one before) but this is also brilliant for Cynonari. Ahhhh I wanna write this now!! So badly!!

I've also really wanted to write Cyno seeing Tighnari have a migraine for the first time. Just not really knowing what to do, accidentally being too loud or too rough when he's trying to comfort him, and being genuinely worried because "what do you mean you get these often??"

Just. Migraines. Horrible in reality. Brilliant in fanfiction.

I'm going to be thinking about Cyno getting a migraine for the rest of the day.

[rianafying]

it’s 4am i have the worst migraine of all time. i’ve had it for four days now. it was okay yesterday so i thought ut was over but it’s back again, and i have to go to work cause i’ve got a huge makeup gig today. i have to do hair and makeup for 10 models, and im just, exhausted emotionally. i was supposed to do some drawings and attach them to the file, and i told my client i would do it many days ago, but i didn’t do it. partly because of my headache and partly because ive been forgetful.

update: it’s 8am, i haven’t slept, took some painkillers, been getting spontaneous bursts of anxiety since yesterday afternoon. i always feel a little anxious before a job, but it’s only part of the reason. i feel terrible rn. i feel bloated and crusty, and my hair looks terrible. a huge part of how i feel is based on how i look, and until im happy w the way i look (hair styled, outfit pressed, makeup done, accessorised) i don’t feel okay. and i just hate the way i look and i hate everything rn. i’m having one of those moments where nothing is okay. it is entirely in my head because on other days everything could go wrong and i’d still feel okay. i hate being at the mercy of my emotions. i need more time to gather myself than i have. work is in two hours, at least it’s only a 10 minute walk from my place so if i forget something or whatever, i can come back and get it. but i feel really anxious. i can physically feel it. and i’ve misplaced everything, and suddenly my room is all messy again. and all i want to do is sleep and complain. i wish i didn’t feel so crusty 99% of the time. and i felt so lonely yesterday, not the kind of loneliness that makes me wanna talk to people. it’s the kind that just is there. i don’t wanna talk to anyone. i hate everyone. and i just wanna be by myself. but that also feels bad. i have a social life, and i love my friends but it’s different. i could even see people if i wanted to but i don’t want to. why do i feel this way. i don’t wanna be with people i don’t wanna be by myself either. at least i don’t feel suicidal lately. i just feel annoyed. frustrated. especially with the migraine i just wanna throw things and break things. i never have and i never will actually throw or break things. but that’s how i feel. just super. irritated. i need time i hate being in a time crunch. none of my thoughts make sense and im simultaneously over and under stimulated. how is it too hot and too cold at the same time??? it’s too hot in my blanket but too cold if i take it off. and i can physically feel my skin, like i can feel a separate layer on my body. and im itchy and im so annoyed. its too loud and too bright. and i hate that the sun is up again, and i hate the sound of my alarm. i hate it. and u hate every terrible thing that has happened to me or to anyone. and my heart breaks for those who are going through so so so much worse. and nothing is right. this is not how it’s supposed to be. and i need my therapist. i’m gonna have a mental breakdown. i am having a mental breakdown. i can’t even cry lately. i don’t even drink water. i suck. of course im gonna feel this way. i dug myself into this hole.

another update: it’s almost 8pm, finally got home from work. it was just the most draining day ever. i’m exhausted but also strangely anxious. extremely anxious. the shoot went well, i think?? i hope!

[will-you-pick-me]

Whoo, work kicked my ass but I do have one question. Is there any fun facts or little lore bits you can share that aren't spoilers? Like little domestic things to be a soft bitch.

~E

Well, on the topic of a rough day at work...

Mikey is dragging you into cuddles immediately after a rough one, and asking you which fast food joint you want to hit up for dinner once your feet are rested.

Ulrich, on the rare occasion he'd let you keep a job of your own, is immediately dragging you to a spa or ordering one of the butlers/maids to give you a massage, draw a hot bath for you, and make sure your favorite hot drink is ready and waiting for you by the time you're done... With a side of trying to convince you that you really don't need to work, and to just let him pay for all your wants and needs.

Zach is making your drink and rubbing your feet themself, and perhaps just a hint of divinity is being used to soothe your soreness and make your drink just a little bit more relaxing to your mind. You can also expect them to cuddle you, making use of their wings like built-in blankets for maximum snug per cuddle.

Jessica is sitting you down for anime and cuddles, pulling out all her best scrap-quilts to bundle you up - she's also the epitome of that "hey... let's take ibuprofen together" meme, raiding her bathroom cabinet for whatever painkiller you need to feel better. This girl's got a stash of migraine-strength Excedrin from squinting at her sewing in the dark because she got too absorbed at the sun went down.

Jack is raiding your linens closet to pull out every single spare blanket, pillow, and soft enough towel to make a nest on the floor, and then he's dragging you into it and laying on top of you. His ass is NOT moving until he starts to hear your stomach growling, and then he's trying his best to help you cook dinner. Under no circumstances should you let him do it on his own, though. He will quite possibly set your kitchen on fire. But he can chop up the vegetables for you and fetch (hah-) you the cookware you need.

Narrator holds you close, listening to any venting you want to do and offering you quiet reassurance and affirmations - "You're so wonderful for being able to do that," and "I promise that not every day will be so bad" - while he runs his fingers through your hair gently, pressing soft kisses to your forehead until you can eventually drift off into a peaceful sleep.

[theoverlyenthusiasticwriter]

Migraine

Here’s another little snipbet of my obsession with Fenrys and Azriel, because I know I haven’t been posting very often. Let me know if you want to see more of these two.

*****

“You’re staring.”

He was. Fenrys narrowed his eyes on Azriel, studying his every movement. “Something’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Azriel said for the fifth time that day. He was sitting at his desk, reading some report or other. He lifted a hand, touching his fingertips to his temple and Fenrys pounced. 

“There!” Fenrys pulled his chair closer so he could grab Azriel’s jaw, turning his face this way and that in an attempt to figure out what was plaguing the shadowsinger. Azriel showed no reaction until Fenrys scooted the oil lamp closer too. 

He flinched.

Well, not really, but it was the closest Fenrys had ever seen to one. An almost imperceptible reaction, the slightest fluttering of his eyelids, before Azriel brought his body back under control.

Fenrys moved the lamp back to where it had been before. “You have a migraine.”

“Fenrys, I’m fine—”

“No. Stop that.” Fenrys pointed a finger in his face. “You may be able to lie to everyone else, but not me. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I have work to do.”

“The work can wait. Come on— you’re going to bed.” He stood, attempting to pull Azriel with him.

Azriel remained stubbornly in his seat. “It’s not that bad.”

“It is that bad. I’ve seen you get headaches before, but you’ve never flinched from the light. This is non-negotiable.”

“I didn’t flinch,” he grumbled, but relented. As he rose, his eyes fluttered shut, his face paling slightly.

Fenrys guided him to their bed, forcing him to sit, then to lay down in the center. He fluffed the pillow beneath his head before rising to blow out the lamp and close the curtains. The room plunged into darkness, Azriel’s shadows settling slightly.

“Don’t you dare move,” Fenrys warned Azriel as he left the room on silent feet. “I’ll be right back.”

He retrieved some salve and ice from the kitchen, wrapping the latter in a bit of cloth. Returning to the bedroom, he was relieved to find Azriel hadn’t moved much beyond slinging an arm over his eyes. He was breathing softly through his mouth, hands clenched into fists. 

Fenrys sat carefully on the side of the bed, gently drawing Azriel’s arm back. Whatever had compelled him to hide his pain before was gone now and even in the darkness, Fenrys could see a faint lining of silver in his eyes as he opened them. 

“Where does it hurt?” Fenrys whispered.

Azriel brought a trembling hand to the left side of his brow so Fenrys pressed the ice there as softly as he could. Azriel repositioned it slightly, taking hold of the ball. Next, Fenrys unscrewed the salve he’d brought.

“What’s that?” Azriel asked, his voice rough.

“It smells like peppermint. Trust me.” Fenrys scooped a bit onto his finger and smeared it under Azriel’s nose. “It’ll help.”

Azriel grunted, closing his eyes again. “You don’t have to take care of me.”

“Hush. I want to take care of you.” Fenrys wiped his hands on his pants. “Try to fall asleep. I’m going to see if Madja has something that can help.”

Before he could rise, Azriel’s free hand snaked around his belt. “In the bathroom. Second drawer.”

Fenrys nodded, unsure what he was talking about, but he rose to retrieve it. He kept the light off in the bathroom too, grateful for his Fae vision. The drawer held Azriel’s shaving supplies, but, upon further inspection, also had a small tin. Fenrys unscrewed the lid, finding a powdery substance. He squinted at the label.

Mix one spoonful into a glass of water every twelve hours as needed for migraine headaches.

So Fenrys prepared the drink and brought it back to Azriel’s bedside. “Is this what you wanted?”

Azriel peered at the glass in Fenrys’ hand, then nodded, pushing himself up to a seated position. He drank the whole thing without hesitation, even when Fenrys hissed at him to slow down. 

“It’s painkillers,” Azriel explained, rubbing his temple. “From Madja.”

Fenrys took the glass back and set it on the bedside table. “Lay back down and put the ice back. Do you want me to stay here with you?”

Azriel nodded, then sighed when Fenrys lay with him. His head settled on Fenrys’ chest, their legs tangling together. Fenrys took the ice from where Azriel had set it aside and held it against his brow once more. 

“Thank you,” Azriel whispered after a few moments.

Fenrys kissed his hair. “Of course.”

*****

Tags: @a-trifling-matter @vanilla28 @texas-shaped-waffle-maker @illyrianwitchling @feyrheart @sarahjmaasslave @h-a-p-p-i-e-s @sadb1tch3000 @samuelcasera-blog @wanderlustlastsforever @catita09 @ @madie-max @gendryaforthemasses @nestaarxheron @imlumpingamazingstuff @silver-flames @awesomelena555 @ribhinnog @sannelovesreading @over300books @sayosdreams ​ @illyrian-bookworm @perseusannabeth @ireallyshouldsleeprn ​ @thalia-2-rose ​ @my-fan-side ​ @skychild29 ​ @superspiritfestival ​ @nahthanks ​ @duskandstarlight ​ @julemmaes ​ @darkshadowqueensrule @illyrianshadowhunter ​ @maastrash ​ @swankii-art-teacher ​ @nehemikkele

[dreamescapeswriting]

Sick Day ~ KNJ [Request]

WORD COUNT: 1.7K

GENRE: Fluffy, cute, fake being sick, Namjoon just clingy

PAIRING: Namjoon x GN!Reader

A/N: I hope this is fluffy and cute enough for you my lovely anon

The time had finally come when you and Namjoon could have time off at the same time for the first time in months, your boss had given you a week off while and it just so happened to be at the same time the boys had some time off. Namjoon thought the time you had off would be spent with him and him alone, he figured it would finally be the time you both just got to chill together for as long as possible without other people and interruptions getting in the week but he was wrong. All week you'd been spending every second you could with the boys, Namjoon didn't blame you since they were like brothers to you but he wanted to spend time with you. He wanted to keep you to himself, spend every minute with you and so far he hadn't had the chance to. Since both of you worked a lot it was hard to see one another sometimes.

"I'm so excited for tomorrow Joonie," You giggled softly as you got into bed that night but Namjoon couldn't match your enthusiasm as he wanted to. Today you'd all been hiking which was Namjoon's idea but when he first proposed the idea he wanted it to be romantic and just the two of you. Instead, he had to look after the rest of the boys as you all carefully made it up the mountainside without any of them hurting themselves. Then the romantic picnic he had planned was changed to the boys complaining about there not being enough food for all eight of you.

"Baby I don't think I can go," He groaned as he said his words, holding his hand to his head as he did his best acting he could manage. The acting lessons he'd been taking with Jin were really starting to pay off as he laid down against the pillow and groaned out once again to get your attention. Your head snapped to look at him and concern washed over you as you saw him laying there. He looked like he was about to throw up and his eyes were screwed tightly shut as he mumbled about the lights hurting his eyes.

"What's wrong baby? You don't sound so good." You whispered as you tried to feel for his temperature but he shook his head before hissing that it hurt too much to move. Panic started to set in when you realised he could be really sick and you sat up next to him wanting to make sure he was okay.

"I think I have a migraine coming, I feel so sick too. Every time I move my head I feel like I'm going to vomit." You frowned looking at him as you tried to think of what you could do to help him. You knew when migraines hit you, you would need a cold compress and a dark room to sleep in until it would eventually pass.

"I'll go and get you a cold compress baby, stay here." As soon as you were in the en-suite Namjoon smirked to himself as he realised playing the sick card meant you were going to cancel on the boys and spend all your time with him as he wanted. He knew lying would be bad but you wouldn't have to know, you could "nurse" him back to full health while staying by his side the entire day and night.

"Here," You whispered as you laid a cold damp cloth across his forehead trying to help with the pain of his migraine. Running your hands down his cheeks you checked to see if he was running a temperature but he wasn't so you figured it was just the start of the migraine and the temperature would start tomorrow.

"I'll take your temperature in the morning and you'll need to take some of these," You whispered to him as you took out a bottle of pain relief meds for him along with a glass of water. He slowly sat up against the headboard and took the painkillers while you watched him closely to make sure he would.  

"I feel awful for ruining your plans." He lied as you got into the bed beside him and shook your head it was no big deal. You could always hang out with the boys another time but making sure your boyfriend was healthy was your main concern.

"It's fine baby, staying at home and caring for my sick boyfriend will be fun for me too. I'll be your nurse," You whispered as you sat down on the edge of the bed, texting the boys to let them know you would be cancelling the plans you had for the day. Namjoon on the other hand laid down in the bed again getting ready to fall asleep with you in his arms for the day.

The next morning when you brought up some tea and a thermometer for Namjoon he waited for you to leave the room so he could try and make his temperature higher than normal. He placed it into the tea until he heard you coming and then showed you the temperature which was above normal and you pouted at him promising to nurse him back to full health before the Monday morning came around.

"A day in bed for you then baby," You whispered as you replaced the cold damp cloth on his forehead with a fresh one before turning to leave the bedroom. Namjoon whined out when he noticed you were leaving he figured you would spend the whole day with him. Keep him company since he wasn't allowed to go out.

"Where are you going?" He mumbled as he leant back on his elbows to look at you, you tilted your head at him going back over to him as you laid him back down.

"Downstairs, I can't be too close, baby. What if this is the start of something else and you get us both sick? Then we'd be stuck here." You mumbled as you began heading out of the door again, stopping in the doorway as you turned to look at him. Namjoon was pouting as he stared at you from the bed.

"You try and sleep it off, I'll go and make you some lunch later." You whispered to him before carefully closing the door behind you so that Namjoon could get some sleep but the moment you left the room he sat up. Dragging his phone out from under his pillow as he tried to think of a way to convince you to come and cuddle him again.

Later that day you told Namjoon you were going to head out to get you both some lunch, you'd been craving the new sandwich place and you knew a small cafe did a good Chicken soup for Namjoon. Before you left you decided to bring him some more tea to drink while you were out of the house,

"Here-" You stopped talking when you walked into the room to find Namjoon standing up and fully dressed struggling to open the balcony doors, you put the tea down on the nightstand. He tensed up as soon as he felt your eyes staring at the back of his head, he slowly let go of the door handles.

"Going somewhere?" You folded your arms over your chest as if you were about to scold him and you stared at him waiting for some kind of response from him. Slowly he turned around to look at you giving you the biggest-cheesiest smile he could manage as he tried to look as innocent as possible for you.

"I thought you were going to get lunch?" He questioned as he saw you standing there instead of outside like he thought you were, you raised your eyebrows at him and nodded at the cup on the nightstand.

"I was bringing you some tea before I left. Were you going to sneak out of the window?" You laughed softly as you thought about a grown man sneaking out of his own house, he looked at you before nodding and groaning at the thought.

"You're not sick, are you?" You questioned as you sat down on the bed keeping your eyes trained on him as you waited for him to come and join you,

"What gave it away?" He grumbled as he walked over to the bed and sat down beside you, you smirked at him as you turned to face him.

"The fact that your temperature was 60ºC." He let out a whine before falling back on the bed, covering his face with the pillow.

"If you knew why did you act like you didn't?" You laid down beside him and snuggled into his side,

"Wanted to see why you were faking and how long you decided to fake it for." You giggled as you thought back on his temperature again that morning and he shook his head at you,

"Why did you fake it?" You whispered as you began drawing invisible patterns into his chest over his shirt, he sighed as he thought back on it. Looking back on it now it was a bad idea to fake being sick just to get you to spend some time with him,

"I wanted to spend alone time with you, just me and you...Without the boys around us. I wanted to cuddle you all day," You smirked to yourself as you nodded along to him and he sighed at you,

"Baby you could have just told me." You whispered as he rolled you off his chest turning so he can lay his head on your chest this time. You smiled to yourself as you wrapped your arm around him,

"Next time just tell me when you want us to be alone." You whispered to him as you got comfortable on the bed, he hummed at you as he snuggled against your chest. Holding onto you as tightly as he could as he just listened to your heart beating, it was relaxing to him to just lay there with you. Letting you hold him while he forgot all about his stresses at work and forgetting for a second that he was Kim Namjoon of BTS. When he was laid like this with you, he was Kim Namjoon boyfriend of Y/n Y/L/N without another care in the world. 

Tagline: @lyoongx​ @mitzwinchester​ @fan-ati--c​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @taestannie​ @rjsmochii​ @bisexualmess007​ @innersooya​ @sw33tnight​ @sweeneyblue1​ @jin-from-the-block​

[absurdthirst]

I get migraines and I haven’t had one this bad in a long time, currently crying because I wasn’t able to study for exams since my vision is spotty (usual migraine for me). Which one of the boys do you think would handle it the best if they found you curled up and crying because of a migraine? You might’ve already done something similar I can’t remember for sure— ignore if you aren’t taking asks rn 💛

When You Are Dealing With a Migraine:

Javier: He’s not immune to your pain. He just doesn’t have a lot of time. When he came into the apartment, it ws to take a quick shower and head out to a stake out for the night. But when he sees you curled up and crying, he can’t ignore it. He helps you into the shower with him, the hot water normally helps him with the bitching headaches he gets. After getting you settled in bed, he brings you everything he can think of. Painkillers, water, a shot of tequila, a trash can in case you get sick. He would stay, but he has to go. Shuts off all the lights and draws the curtains tight and kisses you on the forehead. “Get some sleep, hermosa.”

Ezra: Ezra will straight up go rob someone of their field kit if he finds you on the ground of your tent crying in pain from a migraine. Don’t test this man. His thrower will be pointed at someone once its been determined he can’t trade with them to get the meds he needs. If push comes to shove, words and metal will fly.

Mando: Bacta shot. After that stunt where he, you know, almost died and IG-11 used that bacta spray on him, he keeps bacta cream, spray and shots on the Crest. Swears by it and will spend his last credit to make sure there is some on hand. So when you are curled up and crying over the intense pain in your head, he goes for the med kit. Taking out one of the smaller doses, he tells you that you will start feeling better almost immediately. 

Frankie: This man deals with a shit ton of stress headaches and he can’t get rid of them like he used to. Snorting a little coke is off the table so he will show you the method he used when he was overseas to get rid of a migraine when he couldn’t be down. 2 800mg ibprofen tablets, slamming a Monster energy drink and a scalding hot shower. Sure, it’s not the healthiest, but the migraine will be gone in no time. 

Tovar: You deal with it the way everyone deals with it. You drink. No, for real though, he will brew you a cup of willow bark tea to drink. If you are traveling and it is not dire to keep moving for safety reasons, he will insist that you stop for the night. It’s dangerous to ride a horse and barely be able to see. 

Agent Whiskey: Jack is a lot of things, but heartless is not one. When you are curled up and crying, it tugs on his heartstrings something fierce. He has some painkillers that were devolped by Statesman to help agents be able to kick the nasty headaches that can come with their jobs. He slips you the pills with a glass of water. While waiting for it to work, he’s going to draw you a hot bath and only candles lit to keep the lighting soft. 

Max Phillips: Do you want some of his blood? He will very willingly feed you a little. If the thought of that turns your stomach, you know what helps ease migraines? Orgasms. 

Marcus Pike: Ohhhhhhh He feels so horrible. He’s breaking out the Excedrine Migraine and making a fresh pot of coffee for you for a cup after you drink a bottle of water. Offering you a massage to help ease the pressure in your head. He will do whatever you want, massage, bath, hot or cold compresses. Whatever you need. 

Oberyn: The maesters have plenty of concocutions to help alleviate the pain. If that isn’t what you want, he will ply you with some weak wine and drive the pain away with the skill of his finger, tongue and cock. 

Max Lord: Goodies powders and vitamins. You will feel amazing. He will tell you all this while guiding you over to the couch in the corner of his office. Getting you some water and urging you to lay down while he tries to work quietly to save his drowning company.

Marcus Moreno: This man understands. He helps you upstairs and asks you want to take to help ease the pain. Luckily, he has what you want and he goes and grabs it. He helps you into the bed and lays with you while you wait for it to take effect, wishing he could take the pain away, but at least he can hold you and let you know that you aren’t alone. 

MasterList

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[captaincravatthecapricious]

Crutches- Prompt Fill

cw broken bones, food, internalized ableism, dizziness, headaches

Card by the wonderful @celosiaa! I am still accepting bingo prompts! Please send me more because the starred ones are back written already! Send me a prompt and a character and let me know if you want a drawing or writing!

Navigating the London underground on crutches had been trying to say the least.  But, Jon has gotten very good at navigating it with his cane, so out of sheer spite, he managed it without incident. 

He is still clumsy on them, and by the time he reaches the university, he is more than out of breath, having to stop and use his inhaler before he can reach his classroom.  (He will not be sharing that information with Martin, no way.  He is Fine, and that would only cause worry, and Martin has enough to worry about being an EMT).  

Of course the annoying thing is that he broke his Good leg.  

Of course he manages to break his one more functional leg.  What a very Jonathan Sims thing to do.  

He sighs.  He does not want to explain this to his students.  (And he certainly doesn’t want to explain this to Tim and Sasha, but of course they are coming over for dinner.  Actually… he’s grateful that they don’t already know.  Somehow he actually managed to calm Martin down and talk him out of calling them.  Jon leaned hard into the look I’m fine!  It’s a clean break!  It hardly hurts!  It’s fine!  I’ve had much worse, please don’t fuss!  I’m still conscious and everything! Thing.)

Frankly, it’s embarrassing.  

He misses the days where he would just… heal.  

He might still.  Well, he certainly would the old fashion way, but his recovery might be faster than normal.  Physical injuries are still a little aided by his connection to the Eye, however weakened that connection might be.  Doesn’t do Shit for illnesses, but as much as his EDS causes him to bruise, the bruises don’t stick around for too long.  

Just have to wait and see.  

His students stare.  

Jon shivers.  

He tries not to think about the Institute.  He tries not to think about the prickle on the back of his neck… the feeling of eyes on him when there was no one around.  Don’t be daft, Jonathan, you can see the students right there.  You can see their eyes.  You are just their odd professor who looks even more haggard and beat up than usual.  

He Feels much more haggard than usual.  And he’s shaking from the albuterol.  

“Professor, what happened?” One of his students ask as he maneuvers the podium so he can drop his bag.  

He curses at the lack of chair in the lecture hall.  He’s asked for one.  Repeatedly.  And he’s dragged his office chair in with him before, but… he doesn’t exactly have the hands to do it.  

He has to balance on one leg to dig is computer out so he can connect it to the projector.  

“I’m fine,” he answers automatically.  He was.  He is.  Just tripped like the idiot he is, and broke his good leg.  His bad leg had been throbbing since he got on the tube.  

He ignores it.  

His students eye him with clear suspicion.  Which… Jon would have worried about if… they weren’t perfectly justified.  

They had seen him faint many times, pop his hip back in place, watched him dislocate and relocate his arm, and there was the time he had the concussion, and the time he had a migraine and had fainted when someone tapped him on the shoulder, and the time when he had come to class feverish.  

These students have called Martin so many times by now.  

He deserves those cautions glances.  These kids (not really kids, but sue him, they look like kids in his eyes) are ready to call him on his bullshit.  

“I fell the other day.  I’ll be fine.  Just a broken tibia.  I’ll be fine in couple months.  Let’s get on with the lesson.”

One kid raises their hand, and Jon calls on them.  “Yes?”

“Professor Blackwood-Sims, isn’t that your good leg?”

Damn these overly observant students.  If only they payed that much attention to his lectures.  (No, that’s not fair, they are all good students.  The ones who struggle, have good reason to, and Jon has managed to get them to all come talk to him and tell him what they need to do better).  

Jon smiles tightly.  “Well… it was.  Okay, on with the lecture.”

His leg hurts.  The not broken one.  The broken one… well that hurts a little too, but not nearly as much as the one full of holes.  (They are both full of holes, but one was wormed much more thoroughly and hasn’t been the same since.)

Balancing on one leg proves difficult as he’s hit by dizziness.  He’s been standing too long.  Too long on his bad leg, and the tension and pain have given him a headache bad enough that he’s had one of his students turn off the lights.  He can’t face the light of the projector, so he gives the lecture angling away from it.  

One of his students offers to run the PowerPoint so he can sit in one of the desks as he teaches, but he turns her down.  There are only a few minutes left.  He can make it.  Then he can get home and take some painkillers and shower before Tim and Sasha come to dinner.  

He knows he can cancel, but he doesn’t want to.  He’s more dreading having explain what happened.  

He reaches the flat quickly enough.  He should have time to shower and cook.  He hopes.  

He swallows some painkillers dry (just a few so he can still take more before bed and not worry Martin by pushing the recommended doses too far) and works his way out of his work clothes while sitting on the bed.  It isn’t fun.  

He swallows his pride and uses the shower seat.  He hates it.  He hates that he needs it, yes, but honestly it’s more an issue with the textured plastic under his naked skin.  It feels… wrong.  Both because it reminds him of the circus, and because it’s just a bad texture.  It also feels gross… as in unclean.  He cleans it vigorously often, but it still doesn’t feel clean to him.  

Between the headache, and the dizziness from the hot water and several nights of poor sleep (from nightmares and trying to sleep with a cast on which gave him More nightmares), and the pain in both his legs, Jon fights back the darkness around the edges of his vision.  

He will Not pass out now.  

No.  

Will not happen.  No thank you.  No.  

He fights to keep upright and conscious.  And, surprisingly, wins that battle.  He sits on the bed again while dressing, and while braiding his hair. 

It takes him a long time.  There is a lot of hair to work with, and his scalp hurts with the intensity of his headache.  He also dallies, the more time this takes, the longer he can sit.  He should consider dragging a chair in front of the counter and a chair in front of the stove.  That could make cooking less painful.  

Well, in some ways.  

The unnatural angles are hell on his wrists when chopping.  

Lesser of two evils, however, he supposes.  

Shit.  He isn’t going to have time to finish dinner by the time Tim and Sasha arrive.  

And Martin isn’t going to be home for another hour.  He knows, he knows (not Knows, though), that they won’t mind.  Tim might even Help him cook, but… he doesn’t like being a bother.  He wants… well frankly he wants to erase the years of hurt with food (Christ, Martin has worn off on him.  Not that he minds.  He loves Martin).  

The sauce is almost done, but he hasn’t even started the pasta by the time Tim’s voice drifts through the door.  Sing-song and loud.  No knocking (thankfully).  

Jon hates that he needs the crutches to get to the door.  He hates that his vision is swimming by then too.  The painkillers took the edge off the pain, but can’t do much about the other stresses on Jon’s mortal frame.  

“Be there in a moment, or you can just let yourself in,” Jon calls back.  He has to pause and lean on the wall.  This is all very irritating.  

Apparently, Tim had already been halfway through unlocking the door, because he’s in before Jon can even finish the sentence.  

“Jesus, Jon, what did you do this time?”  Sasha exclaims, quickly, but gracefully pulling off her coat, hanging it on one of the hooks by the door.  It’s less a question than a statement.  

“Hello Sasha, Tim.  Dinner isn’t quite ready, but it’s not too far away.  In the meantime there’s wine.  Martin will be here soon, but his shift isn’t over yet.”  His eyes are closed.  Head tilted back against the wall.  The room finally stops spinning around him.  

“What did you even do?”  Tim this time.  

Jon… doesn’t meet his eyes.  He knows he is blushing, but there isn’t much to be done about that.  He mumbles.  He doesn’t know why.  He knows it won’t work.  Shoving out the words too fast to be understood.  

“What was that Jonny?”  That is a cackle.  Tim is cackling.  Tim, is very irritating… but he does love him, even when he’s teasing.  

“Tripped over my cane.”  Jon says as quickly and quietly as possible.  

“Only you, buddy.  Only You, could do something like that.  Now PLEASE SIT DOWN BEFORE YOU FALL OVER.  I can finish making dinner!”  Tim herds him to a chair.  In the kitchen, because Jon knows that Tim knows Jon won’t actually relax on the couch or the bed if he’s told to.  

“Okay, Jon, what’s left to do… No buts!  This smells amazing and I can’t fuck up pasta, probably.  At least I assume you planned pasta, because there is a box on the counter.”  Sasha says this brandishing aforementioned pasta.  

Sasha makes him tea.  Tim makes the pasta.  (Tim is absolutely the chief between the two of them.)  

“When did you last have painkillers?”  Tim asks.  

“Not too long ago.  Really I’m fine.”

Tim hmmms.  

Jon finds himself nodding off at the table by the time Martin comes home.  

He knows he’s being talked about.  

“Hey, sweetheart.  Hey?”

Jon sleepily raises his head from the table.  “Sorry, I went to work.”  

“Love, I thought you were going to Zoom in today.”  Martin doesn’t sound Angry.  But he doesn’t sound happy about this.  In Jon’s defense, he did say he would see how he felt, and he felt fine in the morning.  

Jon whines, he hates disappointing Martin.  

“We can talk about that tomorrow.”  Martin presses a kiss to his forehead.  

“Hey!  No sleeping until we eat!”  Tim.  Mock serious.  Although he will be very serious if Jon tries to skive off to sleep without some food.  

“Dinner, then I vote we cuddle Jon until he gets some rest!”  Sasha this time.  

Just like old times.  

He knows he will be teased for How he broke his leg.  He knows he and Martin will have a serious chat about him pushing himself.  

But for now there is food, and cheer, and his loved ones.  

[xxx-cat-xxx]

Shot to Hell

Writing finally worked again! I thought of using this for Whumptober but then I was like, screw it, who’s gonna wait a month? So here have the Spider-Man content you’ve been asking me for, plus Tony and Bruce father-henning Peter.

Major thanks to @whumphoarder for beta-reading.

*

Peter fades back into consciousness right in the middle of a heated debate between Tony and Nat over the best method of peeling hard boiled eggs. 

“Wha’ happ’nd?” he croaks, prompting Tony to stop mid-sentence (“No, you don’t crack them on a flat surface, you gotta hit em with a–”) and both of them to turn their heads in his direction.

“Oh, look who decided to wander back to the land of the living,” Tony teases, but even in his still-dazed state, Peter can see relief blooming on his mentor’s face. 

“I passed out, didn’t I?” he asks. 

“Bingo. 10 points.” Tony raises a mocking eyebrow before asking in a more sober tone, “How are you feeling?”

“...Shot,” Peter deadpans, eliciting an eye roll from Tony and a grin from Nat.

“Do you remember what happened?” she chips in.

“Uhm… kind of?” Peter tries to think through the fog in his pounding head. He recalls the impact of the bullet with his body, and then someone―Dr. Banner?―plucking said bullet out again in an increasingly painful procedure that must have led to him blacking out. It’s the in-between that he’s kind of fuzzy about. For example, how he moved from the intersection of 77th and 164th to a room with the most hideous, peeling lilac-coloured wallpaper he’s ever seen and three venus fly trap plants on the windowsill. 

“Where am I?” 

“Bruce’s humble abode,” Tony explains, gesturing around to the sparsely adorned room. “Very humble, actually. Not even sure he has indoor plumbing.”

Nat rolls her eyes and hits his arm with a playful backhand.

Peter frowns. “Why are we at Dr. Banner’s?”

Tony shrugs. “It was closest, and we had to get that bullet out of you before your freaky spider DNA started knitting itself back together.”

“Bruce has all kinds of medical equipment here,” Nat explains. “He sometimes treats undocumented citizens.” 

Tony raises an eyebrow. “How do you know that? I didn’t even know that.” 

Nat shrugs mysteriously, then pushes herself away from the edge of the desk she was sitting on top of. “I’m gonna tell him that your disaster kid woke up.” 

“I’m not–” Peter starts at the same moment Tony asserts, “He’s not–” 

“Yeah, yeah, save your breath.” Nat’s smile is amused and a little bit fond. 

Once she’s left the room, Peter pulls the blanket off his bare chest to try and get a look at the bandaged wound in his abdomen, but even lifting his head a little sends jolts of pain through his body and a groan escapes before he can stop it. 

“Easy, easy,” Tony says, pushing him back down. “No moving just yet for anyone with holes in them.”

“Is it really bad?” Peter asks, trying hard to mask the worry in his voice. He’s been injured in countless other ways since getting his powers, but it’s his first time getting shot. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wonders whether there will be any lasting damage. 

Tony’s expression goes soft as he seems to read his thoughts. “Bruce says you’re already healing. The bullet missed all the vital organs. With your healing factor, you should be back on the streets in a couple days.” 

At Peter’s relieved sigh, Tony then launches into an explanation of the very painful things Clint and Steve did to the Hydra agent who fired the gun after the other left to get Peter to safety. Peter nods along, feeling his eyes growing heavy. He doesn’t even realise that they’ve slipped shut until he feels Tony lightly rest a hand on his shoulder, but opening them again seems like way too much work. The wound is pulsing in time with his heartbeat, and he’s suddenly exhausted.

“...Peter? I thought you said he was awake.” 

“Yeah, he was until five minutes ago. Come on, kid, the doctor’s in.”

“Ngph,” Peter grunts, blinking his eyes open again to see Bruce swim into focus, the doctor’s brows knitting in concern. “‘M awake.”

“That’s good.” Bruce gives a small, encouraging smile. “I just want to check your vitals and see if there’s anything we can do for pain management. I know that normal painkillers don’t work on you, but there are some alternatives we could try.”

“No, no it’s fine. It’s not hurting that much,” Peter lies. 

“Uh-huh,” Bruce says, obviously not buying it. He fixes a blood pressure cuff to Peter’s upper arm and inflates it.  

"Yeah, that's still pretty low, but moving in the right direction. You probably shouldn't try to get up just yet."

"Probably?” Tony interrupts. "If he tries to leave this bed any time before tomorrow morning, I'll confiscate the suit for a month."

"Alright, Tony. Calm down." That's Nat, seated in a chair at the foot of the bed.

Tony flashes Peter a warning look before sticking his tongue out at Nat.

"I'm gonna take your pulse.” Bruce puts two fingers onto Peter's wrist and looks at his watch for a while. "120―Your heart's racing. Not much pain, you said?"

"I've had worse," Peter mumbles. That's not a lie, at least. The two-day migraine he had after getting bitten still ranks on top of that list, closely followed by the time he ruptured his Achilles tendon during a triple backflip in the Spider-Man suit from the roof of the gym. 

(The video Ned took of this particular incident still circulates on TikTok).

Tony huffs out a breath and mutters something that sounds a lot like god, this kid.

"Alright." Bruce lifts the blanket to check the bandages and seems to be content with what he's seeing. "Just try to rest like this, but if you can't sleep, we can think of trying some cannabis drops."

“Thanks, Dr. Banner,” Peter says.

"Oh, and you should eat and drink something if you feel up to it. You lost quite a bit of blood back there."

"Uhm." He definitely doesn’t feel up to that―he’s been lightheaded and slightly queasy since the time he woke up, and the mere thought of food turns Peter's stomach. "Maybe drink something?"

“We can start with that.” Bruce removes the blood pressure cuff and starts to put it back into its bag. “I’ll bring you some juice.”

“I’ll get it,” Nat offers and leaves the room. She returns a minute later with a small bottle of orange juice and a pink straw that she passes to Bruce.

“Oh, organic and fairtrade,” Tony comments, eyeing at the label. “You’re in for a treat today, kid.” 

Peter chuckles, but cuts himself off abruptly when he makes to sit up and the pain in his abdomen flares to the point that his vision greys out. “Ow,” he mumbles. 

Tony shoots out a hand when Peter lists towards him and carefully lowers him back down onto the mattress. “What did we say about not getting up yet?” the engineer pronounces through gritted teeth. “There’s a straw in that.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Peter awkwardly takes a few sips from the bottle while lying back, and then stops to draw in a breath. 

His unsuccessful attempt at sitting left him even more dizzy than before. The juice settles uneasily in his stomach and he puts the bottle down after finishing half of it before turning onto his uninjured side with Tony’s help. Nat and Tony restart their quibble about egg-boiling behind Peter while Bruce, sitting right next to him, starts to scroll through something on his phone. 

Peter closes his eyes and attempts to fall asleep, but the longer he tries, the more the pain radiating from the bullet wound seems to increase. On top of that, there’s a growing sick feeling in his gut that’s impossible to ignore. He slowly draws his legs up to his stomach, but it doesn’t help, so he stretches them back out and surreptitiously rests a hand on his belly. Adjusting his head on the pillow, he tries to carefully breathe through his nose.

“You doing okay?” Bruce asks quietly, looking up from his phone after another few attempts by Peter at finding a comfortable position. Peter nods, then lifts his hand to stifle a sick burp that carries the taste of orange juice. Cold sweat has broken out all over his body and he can feel himself starting to tremble minutely. 

Bruce regards him with a frown, then addresses Tony and Nat, who are still caught up in their banter. “Why don’t you two take this outside?” 

Tony starts to protest, but Bruce gives him a pointed look that the other man seems to understand, because he closes his mouth again and gets up from the far side of the bed. "See you later, buddy," he says, giving Peter’s shoulder a squeeze.

Once the two of them have left the room, Bruce turns back to Peter. “What’s going on?” he asks. 

“I, uhm, I kind of feel like throwing up,” Peter admits in a whisper.

“It’s alright, that happens,” Bruce assures him calmly. “I’ll get you a bowl, okay?” 

“I don’t want anyone to see–” 

“I get it,” Bruce reassures. “Don’t worry.” 

He disappears out of the door and Peter keeps swallowing thickly against the nausea rising up in his throat. The only thing worse than throwing up in front of the Avengers would probably be throwing up onto an Avenger’s bed. Luckily, Bruce reappears quickly with a basin in his hands that he sets down within Peter’s reach. “Try to breathe through it,” he advises. “But if you need to get sick, it’s okay.” 

Peter nods miserably. He tries to follow the scientist’s advice of breathing calmly, but it doesn’t do much to quell the nausea. A few minutes later, he has to reach for the basin, saliva already pooling in his mouth. 

"Here." Bruce helps him prop himself on his elbow. Peter shakily spits a few strings of saliva into the basin until a gag rises in his throat and he brings up a gush of orange juice. He barely manages to draw a breath before a second wave forces its way up. Peter can’t stop a whimper from escaping his lips between retches when his wound protests the sudden movement.  

“Hey.” Bruce pats his shoulder awkwardly. “You’ll be alright. Just get it all up.”

Peter is panting and shaking all over when he finishes. Bruce passes him some water to rinse his mouth. 

“That sucked,” Peter croaks after swirling and spitting it back out. He more crashes than lies back down on the pillow, pain radiating in waves through the lower half of his body, making his head spin. 

Bruce gives him a slightly sad, sympathetic look. “I’m sorry it’s hurting.” He gestures at the basin. “Are you okay if I take this away?” 

Peter nods, closing his eyes. A part of him is absolutely mortified at the idea of one of the world’s best scientists cleaning out his puke bowl, but the pain has taken most of the embarrassment away, and if there is anyone of the team he feels least uncomfortable seeing him like this, it’s probably Bruce with his slight shyness and calm down-to-earth attitude.

The man returns a few minutes later, bringing along a cold cloth for Peter to wipe his face, a small box of mints, and Tony.

“Day just keeps getting better, huh?” Tony remarks.

“Ugh.” Peter buries his head in his pillow. “This is such a disaster. And I was looking forward to the mission. And the team.”

“Hey.” Tony’s tone softens. He strokes some of Peter’s sweaty hair away from his forehead and then brushes his eyes shut. “We’re still here. Go to sleep now, kid. You’ll feel better when you wake up.”

So Peter does.

_________

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Taglist: @toomuchtoread33  @yepokokfine

[my-soul-sings]

just my luck: chapter 1

Fandom: Wannabe Challenge Characters: Taehee x Reader 

Summary (placeholder): Having been cursed to live a life filled with misfortunes, moving to a new city to start anew was, as expected, a difficult process. But things start to change after you encounter a mysterious doctor who seems to know you even though you’ve never met him before. 

Notes:

Will contain spoilers for Taehee’s Story. 

The ‘Reader’ character will be left unnamed, and there are no mentions of ‘y/n’.

Taehee is trained in western medicine here, instead of oriental medicine.

The reader character will not be based on the in-game MC, other than her looks. The differences are because personally I think the in-game MC and Taehee’s personality don’t really match somehow.

This is basically my version of events of how Taehee and MC meet again. The details and events in this are not true to the game, other than Taehee’s backstory. 

For now it’ll be here on tumblr (if and until I move it to AO3) and i’ll be using the tag #justmyluck on the blog for chapter updates. 

***

The rain was loud in your ears. Cars whizzed by you, water splashing beneath the tires and onto the pavement as they went by, and people hurried about with their umbrellas that did little to keep them dry in this torrential weather. 

You stood still in the middle of the hustle and bustle, your luggage by your side and your broken umbrella hanging limp and useless in your hand. The cold rainwater seeped into your clothes, and you shivered as a chill ran down your spine when the strong wind blew against your frame. 

You could feel odd stares being directed your way, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Your phone battery had been depleted, which meant you could no longer refer to Poogle Maps to get to where your new apartment was. You had already waited for the past hour trying to hail a cab to no avail, and no one was accepting your request on the Duber app. 

As if moving wasn’t stressful enough already, all of this just had to happen. But you weren’t surprised in the least—it was just another typical day in your unfortunate life. 

For as long as you could remember, you had terrible luck. At first it was trivial things like always getting the shitty prizes in a lucky draw no matter how many times you spun the wheel, and always losing in games of chance against friends. No matter where you went or what you did, it seemed you were doomed to consistently draw the short end of the stick. 

Your luck seemed to only get worse as you grew older. Injuries grew increasingly common, and more severe. You didn’t think there were so many ways a person could get hurt—you had to learn it the hard way, from slipping on a banana peel, getting knocked down by someone who accidentally ran straight into you, getting hit by stray soccer balls or baseballs in school… The events were countless. 

Your classmates used to joke that you had been cursed by a witch when you were younger. Sometimes you found yourself wondering if that was true after all. There was only so much bad luck one person could have in their life, and you seemed to be attracting a never-ending supply of it. 

You’d hoped that maybe things would change after moving to this new neighbourhood. You had even specifically asked for an apartment that had ‘good feng-shui’, hoping that would make some kind of difference.

It didn’t. You hadn’t even arrived in your new home yet, but you could already tell that things weren’t going to change. If you had been cursed by a witch or been fated to suffer neverending misfortune, then moving to a new neighbourhood to start afresh wasn’t going to change anything. 

With a sigh and a shiver, you decided to shake yourself out of your low spirits. No point dwelling on these things, you may as well hurry to your apartment before something worse happened. So you picked up the handle of your luggage and continued trudging on, your feet making squelching sounds with each step from the water that had filled your shoes. You’d get home one way or another, and a little rain wasn’t about to stop you.

Just as you finished that thought, the handle of your luggage broke, and the whole thing tumbled straight into a muddy puddle, sending specks of mud flying and staining your jeans.

It took everything in you to suppress a frustrated scream when you dipped your fingers into the dirty waters to pick up your luggage again. 

***

By the time you arrived at the apartment building, you looked like you had been to hell and back. 

But hey, at least you had come out alive, right?

Your landlord had been surprised to see you drenched from head to toe, and she had kindly offered a fresh towel and some hot tea for you after inviting you into her home. She was a kind elderly lady, and her warm welcome brightened your mood considerably. The tea had felt extra warm as you made small talk with her before taking the key to your apartment. 

But then your mood sank right back down to rock-bottom when you realised that you had to carry your heavy luggage up five whole flights of stairs, because it just so happened that the elevator wasn’t working. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anyone you could ask for help—certainly not the sweet old landlady. You felt bad to bother any of your neighbours too. 

So an hour and one rough tumble down the stairs later, you miraculously made it all the way up to your door. You would be jumping for joy if your arms didn’t feel like they were about to fall off. All you wanted to do was take a hot shower, lie down and get some sleep. Maybe take some painkillers before that too, because you could feel a migraine coming up. 

The apartment smelled a little musty when you entered, but otherwise, everything looked great. It was bare, seeing as there was some delay in the delivery of your furniture, but it was clean. There weren’t any bugs that you could see from a quick survey of the rooms, so that was good enough in your book. 

Looking around your simple studio apartment, you smiled to yourself, glad that you had finally made it here despite the many hiccups along the way. Nothing could dampen your spirits now; moving here marked the beginning of a new chapter in your life, and you were ready for your new job that would be starting in two weeks. 

You had a good feeling about all this somehow, despite dripping wet all over your floor and even though your sides hurt from falling down the stairs together with your luggage earlier. 

Cursed or not, you were excited about living here already. 

***

Two days later, your furniture still had not arrived. You had to make do with the sleeping bag you’d packed in your luggage for contingencies such as this. The moving company wasn’t getting back to you even though you had sent them a string of emails asking for updates. You hoped it was just a lack of staff around on the weekends, and that someone would get back to you by Monday.

Apart from that, there weren’t any major problems. Everything in the apartment was working fine. You had made sure to check everything to make sure you wouldn’t suffer some kind of freak accident in your own home—it had happened before, when the ceiling fan in the living room fell just when you left to take a drink. (Looking at it from another angle, you had been incredibly lucky with that close shave.)

The only issue left was the fever that you had woken up to that morning, definitely because you had been caught in the rain. Thankfully, the landlady had informed you that there was a clinic just across the street, so you made plans to go after forcing yourself to eat half of an apple. You didn’t have an appetite but you’d probably faint on the way if you went on an empty stomach, and ending up in the hospital was definitely not on your to-do list here. 

It was warm out when you stepped out of your apartment building. The sun was up, and the temperature was just right. Perfect for a walk. You’d probably enjoy it better if your head wasn’t pounding so much. 

It wasn’t too difficult to find the clinic. Like the landlady said, it was right across the street, a mere five minutes’ walk from your apartment. And then right down the street was a convenience store too. You’d go pick up some snacks and ready-made foods later — it’d be too tiresome to cook while sick.

The clinic wasn’t too full, thankfully. There were maybe about four to five people inside when you arrived, and after registering at the counter you took a seat and checked your phone. You hadn’t had the energy to reply to anything yesterday, so it seemed that your phone had blown up while you were gone.

The messages were mainly from Seohee, your best friend. You saw multiple missed calls and messages from her, and from what you could glean from the message previews, she had been worried because you just went MIA without updating her on your whereabouts. She had been worried from the start when she heard that you were going to live alone in a new city, without anyone accompanying you. 

Grimacing, you swiped right to open the chat, and you typed a quick message to assure her that you were doing fine and adjusting great, casually omitting the part where you had fallen sick and your furniture hadn’t arrived yet. No need to worry her, she had enough things on her plate to manage. 

The other messages were from random group chats that you didn’t have the energy to read at the moment, so you locked your phone and closed your eyes momentarily, leaning back in your seat and resting your head against the wall. The doctors seemed to be taking a while…

About half an hour later, your number was called. Finally. 

You stood up a bit too quickly, and black spots promptly appeared in your vision while your head started to spin. A nod was all you could manage when the receptionist pointed to one of the rooms down the hallway, while you took hesitant steps forward and tried to steady yourself. Eventually the dizziness subsided and your head cleared up a bit when you read the name written on the door plate: Dr. Taehee Kim. 

You repeated the name a few times in your head. It had a nice ring to it. You knocked twice on the wooden door and pushed down on the door handle to enter.

“Good morning.” You heard a deep, male voice, and your first thought was that you liked it. There was a soothing quality to it, and maybe it was an exaggeration but your headache seemed to lessen just from hearing him speak. 

You looked up, wearing a polite smile and returning the morning greeting. Or at least, you were about to, but then your voice caught in your throat and you found yourself staring into the eyes of who was quite possibly the most gorgeous man you had ever seen. He had thick, wavy black locks parted to the side, and a pair of deep set, dark grey-ish green eyes—a colour you had never seen before. His complexion was fair and otherwise flawless, and you could tell from his defined jawline and broad shoulders that he worked out regularly too. He looked handsome enough to be a model, and you couldn’t help but stare with widened eyes, while heat began to gather in your face. Whether it was from the fever, or because of him, you couldn’t tell. 

But getting to see such a handsome doctor… today had to be your lucky day. For once. 

The only thing was, it seemed to be the exact opposite for him. Contrary to the tone of his greeting, he now looked like he had just seen a ghost. He sprang to his feet the moment he saw you, and his chair rolled backwards until it hit the wall behind him with a loud thump. His eyes were blown wide, lips parted as he stared at you, searching your face for something… You didn’t know what, exactly. 

The normal thing to do now would be to sit in the empty chair next to his desk and for him to do his job, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move a single step. Not when he was looking at you like this, as if he had a million things to say but couldn’t. So you stood there, feet glued to the spot by the door as you stared back, blinking and confused. 

He spoke again after the tense silence stretched on for much longer than you’d have liked. 

“Is… Is it really you? Am I dreaming? Is this… real?”

In the silence of the room, his shaky whisper rang loud and clear in your ears. 

Affection. Sadness. Longing. They were unmistakable in his wavering voice, in his eyes that were starting to glisten with what seemed like tears. 

The only problem was, you didn’t understand why. Much less why it was being directed to you. You were missing something here, or maybe it was him. You didn’t know. Your head hurt, and you just wanted some medicine, and then to go home to sleep this fever off. 

But now your doctor was walking towards you, each footstep ringing in your ears as he drew closer and closer, his perplexed expression remaining the same. And for some reason you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his, much less find the strength to push him away when he stood an arm’s length away and gently held you by the shoulders. Even the way he tried to hold you was strange — his hands were shaking and his palms were barely brushing against your shoulders, hesitant and afraid. 

Maybe you had spoken too soon. It probably wasn’t a lucky day at all—when would you learn? Now you were stuck in an office with a weirdo who was getting way too emotional over a simple consultation.

“A-Are you… okay?” The words came out as a timid squeak, and you watched as he blinked, though his eyes didn’t lose the glass-like quality to them. The ceiling light was reflecting off his eyes, and they seemed to be glistening with fresh tears.

“I never thought… I… I can’t believe it’s- it’s- H-How could this happen?” 

You flinched when you felt something brush against your cheek, and it took a few seconds for you to realise that the back of his hand was ghosting over your skin. 

Belatedly, your fight-or-flight response finally kicked in and you pushed his hand away, putting your hands out to make him step back and put some much-needed distance between you. Handsome or not, this guy was getting downright creepy and inappropriate.

“Look, I don’t know who you are, and I think you’ve got the wrong person. I’ll just go to another clinic-” You turned around, ready to hightail it out of his office, when you felt his hand on your wrist, holding you in place. 

“No, wait. Please- Please wait. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, this is all my fault.”

A voice pounded in your head then. An image flashed in your mind, one of a man who didn’t belong in this time period. He was dressed in traditional clothes, and he was holding you with tears streaming down his face. You couldn’t quite make out his face from the blurred picture that came and went like lightning, but the sound of his voice was the same as this doctor’s desperate plea. 

Then dizziness hit you once more, but this time it didn’t subside. The last thing you remembered before your vision turned black was the sound of him calling your name. 

***

A/N: I will be leaving this on tumblr for now, I’ll probably start posting on AO3 when I have more chapters ready to post. :) I’d love to hear your thoughts on this first chapter and thank you for reading! :)

[marvelousell]

I have a really bad migraine right now. Could I have a fluffy Grayson fic about him caring you for you when you have a migraine?

I’m here

A/N: Migraines are bullshit, for me it’s the worst pain ever. Hope you’re feeling better love.❤️

Warnings: swearing

It was awfully quiet today in the house, and not because Ethan left for the weekend.

Grayson was used to laughs roaring through the house, the music blasting all day and especially to the sound of pots and utensils in the kitchen while you were cooking.

Today was different.

He did woke up pretty early to go for a morning jog and to fix his car. He didn’t want to wake you up, so he left you to sleep more, placing a soft kiss on your forehead before leaving.

You were a light sleeper. Every time that Grayson would get up or shift in the bed you would grab him, missing his body wrapped around yours.

However today you couldn’t move. The morning migraine knocked you out completely. Gray was already out of the room when you opened your eyes. Your head felt like a balloon that was about to pop, the dull pain growing every second.

‘Maybe a short nap would help’ you thought, groaning from the pain trying your best to fall asleep.

-

Grayson was done with his morning run, now focusing on his car. It was a beautiful day and he was a little bit confused, because by now you would enjoy a glass of fresh juice while waiting for him with his favourite breakfast placed on the table outside.

He just couldn’t work. Gray sure loved the sound of silence and the birds chirping every now and then, but your giggles and sweet voice in the morning where like a melody to his ears.

He made his way to the bathroom downstairs to take a quick shower before heading to your shared bedroom.

It was noon already when he stepped out of the shower and the silence was still present. The door of your room was still slightly open just how he left it this morning. The quiet but still loud whining from the room made him now worried.

“Baby?” He stepped inside closing the door, the sight breaking his heart.

You were now sitting, back pressed on the bed frame. Your small hands were wrapped around your forehead, trying to stop the migraine. The tears began to form in your eyes from the pounding pain, making Grayson’s heart beat faster.

“What’s wrong babe? Please don’t cry.” He sat next to you, embracing you in a hug.

“My head. A fucking morning migraine again.” Your voice was almost a whisper, afraid if you say something louder your head would explode.

“Why didn’t you call me? I was outside this whole time I didn’t do anything special! Fuck I should’ve known that something’s going on when I didn’t see you sitting outside.” Grayson’s voice was soft, his hands brushing your hair, trying to ease the pain.

“I’m sorry baby, I thought that after a nap it would stop, but it’s killing me now.” You said, relaxing in his hands.

“It’s okay babe, come on lie down for me and try to rest. I will bring you some painkillers and something to eat and drink.” He placed you down, kissing you softly.

“I’ll be right back.”

You were so grateful for him. Grayson was a boyfriend that everyone deserved in their life. The most charming and caring person, always here when you need him.

“Thank you for the food Gray, you really didn’t need to, a sandwich would be fine.” You said giving him a short but sweet kiss.

“Please bub, no need to thank me that’s my job.” His thumb brushing you cheek.

“You’re the best, I’m the luckiest girl ever.”

“Come here baby, we should take a nap together, and later when the pain goes away I’m gonna make those mean tacos of mine for us to eat while we watch some movies.”

You giggled, placing your head on his chest.

Gray covered you both with the white blanket, bringing your body closer to his. His hands were under your shirt, drawing circles on your back.

“I love you Gray.” You mumbled in his shirt, your eyes closing.

“I love you more my beautiful angel.���

[kirieshhhka003]

Hi, this is my first time requesting anything, so apologies if i make a mistake. Could i get the Bucci Gang with a s/o who has bad migraines. I get stress migraines that make me sensitive to light/noise and occasionally make me throw up with pain. I would like some comfort lol

Thank you for your request, my dear. I hope you’re doing okay and your migraines don’t bother you💚. I had the exact same problem when I was 14 and pain during migraines was horrible 😬

Bucci gang x S/o who has migraines

Bruno Buccellati

He’s kinda bewildered for the first couple of moments but collects his thoughts quickly and gives S/o painkillers. Fugo has the same problem and Bruno always has a couple of bottles of pills with him

After S/o’s pain is gone Bruno asks them about it. He knows pretty much about stress migraines because Fugo has ones but wants to simply make sure that his guesses are right

Bruno always reminds them to take a break from their work and rest a little bit. “We all know that you’re doing your best but please, don’t overwork yourself. Even the hardworkest people need to relax sometimes”

Leone Abbacchio

When he faces their migraine for the first time he’s confused, what should he do? He immediately goes to pharmacy and buys the strongest painkillers they have

He has his headaches sometimes but pain isn’t that strong and goes away pretty fast. But he sees that S/o are suffering right now, he couldn’t think that headache may be so painful

He may seem cool and indifferent on the outside but he really worries about S/o. Leone always has a package of painkillers with him, you know, just in case

Pannacotta Fugo

As I said earlier Fugo has bad stress migraines too and he understands that horrible feeling of pain that buzzes in your head. He knows what kind of painkillers is the best and always have couple of pills in his bag

He tries not to interact with S/o because of their sensuality to light and noise. Fugo just leaves them alone in their room but is always somewhere nearby so he can help them immediately if they ask him for anything they need

Fugo has his stress headaches pretty often too and of course he can’t control his pain but he gives S/o advices of how to reduce the risk of migraines and how they can avoid them

Guido Mista

He doesn’t know what to do when S/o get their migraine. He knows what it is but damn, does it hurt that much?

Mista takes them to an empty room, draws all the curtains in there and brings S/o some water. He leaves them alone but is always ready to help them at any moment

After S/o’s headache is gone and they feel better Guido asks them about “what the hell was that”. After S/o explained him what stress migraines are and how should he act in those situations Mista calms down a little

He always checks on S/o and tells them to take a break from their work. He also tries to control their sleeping schedule so S/o get enough of rest and feel themselves good

Narancia Ghirga

When Narancia meets their migraine for the first time he panics. “Wtf, are you dying? Is that an enemy stand?” He summons Aerosmith and tries to find hostile stand user

S/o need to shut him up, Narancia won’t stop screaming and shouting. He’s worried and calls Bruno immediately

They need to explain him what migraines are and how they work. He had seen Fugo during his headache before but didn’t really get what it was

Narancia memorizes what kind of painkillers S/o usually takes so he can always go to pharmacy and buy them some

Giorno Giovanna

Giorno knows how human’s body can react to stress and that migraines are the common problem

Every time S/o have migraines Giorno gives them their space, he doesn’t touch or talk to them. He gives them painkillers and makes some ginger tea(it helps to relief pain during headaches)

He’s pretty chill about that. Of course he loves S/o and worries about them every time they have their migraines, but he doesn’t want to scare them even more by panicking and overreacting

Giorno always makes sure that S/o don’t overwork and take care of themselves. He reminds them to rest a little bit during their work and to distract from it for a while

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