Imagining Matt Murdock repressing discomfort in various scenarios.
Matt Murdock at a tasting for Foggy’s wedding. Each smell telling a different story. Karen, Foggy, and Marcy still eating. Matt scoots back, puts a hand on his tummy, and draws in a deep breath, he doesn’t usually eat this much but it’s all sooo good.
Matt Murdock on a date after getting concussed the night before: She asks him what looks good. He’s zoned out, “sorry rough night.” She asks if they should reschedule. His eyes ache and his equilibrium is off. But he knows if they reschedule it probably will become a missed opportunity. He turns his grimace to a grin and assures her it’s fine with something like “And miss this charming date…are you getting board me of allready?” He’s joking of course. He knows he isn’t boring so he can say it with confidence
Matt Murdock crashing in bed after being put through physical hell. Thinking hurts, breathing lights him up with agony… then Foggy calls and he puts on his best “don’t worry about me” voice.
Matt Murdock having a little bout of food poisoning. But he has an extremely important case he needs to be present for. When briefing the judge before hand his stomach makes an unsettling noise and he’s forced to explain he ate some dodgy pruchetto. That in mind the squeamish judge keeps a close eye on Matt during trial. Matt’s posture falters and he starts to swallow between sentences to keep his stomach in check. The judge gets nervous and calls recess. During the recess Matt finds a restroom and lets himself be as sick as he feels. No heart beats besides his own. Nobody has to know.
Still not feeling very well he dodges the press as they try to shove microphones at him and ask him about the trial.
Matt Murdock drunk of his ass after a college party. Riding in the backseat of a taxi and not sure which way is up. His senses are a mess the engine fluid is sloshing or is that the fluid in his ears? He turns his head and immediately regrets it. He feels sick to his stomach. He doesn’t usually get carsick but so much spinning. They finally arive back at his dorm. He doesn’t verbally thank the taxi driver, just hands him all of the cash he has (more than the drive was worth) and keeps his lips pursed tight until he reaches the bushes outside his dorm.
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fuck it more sickfic. this one is much better than my previous, at least in my brain. also messy warning. very messy. sorry not sorry. also contagion mentions kinda
main setting/general overview: coworkers being bitchy to each other and bickering, NYPD detectives doing detective things but not really, cold snz and heavy denial, workaholics as per usual. also disabled sickie (HoH) because I said so.
sassy British man (Theodore "Theo" Stokes) and stubborn grumpy asshole (Dominic "Dom" Alfonsi) face off, they are also queer but that's for later...
"HHuhh- HRU'SHYUHhh! aH'KSSHHEWwuh! hHH- hAH'YIESHIEW!" Dominic sneezed roughly into the air next to him, hardly bothering to turn away from his steering wheel as he sat parked, contemplating his choice of going to work. He tried and failed to sniffle most of the drippy mess back up, head pounding while blowing his nose into a spare napkin that was now thoroughly soaked.
Great. Only 8 am and his only want was to go back to bed, nothing unusual but the cold certainly didn't help. He headed outside into the cold from his shitty corolla that was old enough to vote. He dragged his feet through the snow, coughing the whole time as grabbed a box of tissue from someone else's desk and collapsed into his near-broken chair.
"Alfonsi! You look more like a train wreck then usual" A sarcastically chirpy British accent appeared at Dom's side, met by a glare and nothing else. "You. Come on. You can hear me."
Dominic loved to play the Deaf card when it came to ignoring Theo, though he was used to his antics. "Yep. Train wreck. Bye" He answered shortly as usual, though snappy in a headache-ridden daze. "I sNRF- have work to do, okay?"
"That was disgusting." He stated blankly.
"What did I do to you?" Dominic looked up, annoyed and knowing the answer. Going back to jotting some reminders on a sticky note.
"First of all, that nasty arse sniff you did was revolting to say the least. Second, you of all people are my beloved partner for the Khaler case" Theo spoke with disgust, rolling his light eyes out of sheer joy for the torturous afternoon to follow while tossing the files at Dom.
"Okgreatbye." He spoke shortly, rushing out some final words before doubling over in a rough coughing fit, chest rattling with very obvious congestion. Dom muffled it poorly as he covered his mouth with the collar of his jacket, doing the bare minimum out of a hardy existing care for the general public.
"You're gross!" Theo shouted back at him as he walked away to his own desk, knowing Dominic wouldn't hear it clear enough nor care enough to ask about it.
A couple hours later, Theo came back with some coffee. He sat down at Dom's desk as he pulled up a chair, sliding across one cup.
Dom started blankly, quickly shoving a used tissue into his pocket to look slightly more healthy. "What's this?"
"Coffee. Two sugar no cream. Now, we have some stuff to work out." Theo stated in pure confidence, the same thing that radiated from him and his stupid perfect hair that infuriated Dominic.
A few minutes of Theo blabbering off theories based on feelings and guesses, Dom chimed in. "You're wrong, I think it's more like this. See, the victim was found here, but the carpet h- HHa... has drag markhh- aaH- hIH- marRR'RUSHhuh! nGH'SHYuh! 'HRUSHUew!"
A poorly covered sneezing fit erupted out of him, leaving his hand covered in drippy snot as he fumbled for a tissue to keep the mess contained despite the fact it was very obvious.
Theo handed him a tissue, a bit taken aback but concerned despite never wanting to admit it. "Great theory. Really loved the details in the part you finished saying." An eye roll as Dominic blew his nose, loud since he wasn't the best at keeping anything quiet if he could hardly hear himself.
"I hate you." Dom groaned, massaging at the bridge of his nose while he talked, "But serious, think about it. There are clear drag marks, look." He pointed at some of the crime scene photos, taking a long drink from his coffee. The warm drink was nice on his sore throat, though it was a little too warm and inviting, making him cough hard over his shoulder.
"You sound like you're dying," Theo stated with an eye roll.
"And you're just the nicest. Also, you're stupid. What you said a bit ago about the wife? You hear that alibi? She can't be innocent like you think." They jumped right back into the case, Dom was blabbering as per usual.
Despite not being very talkative Dominic had a million theories, though that stream of consciousness came to a pause. He pressed a hand under his nose, nostrils flaring as they started to drip. "God... snRF- One sec, I- aHhh- I needa hH- sneehH- hHRU'SHRIyuhh! nGH'SHhiew! 'HRUSH'yew! Dammit..."
He actually bothered to cover this time, tucking his face into his elbow in a desperate rush. Strings of thick sickly snot trailed from his still twitching nostrils that connected into a gross mess on the sleeve of his leather jacket. "Cabn dyou hanmd be a tibssue?" He sniffled wetly, trying and failing to get rid of the mess streaming from his nostrils.
"Uh. Yeah. Bless you" Theo cleared his throat, a bit disgusted but filled with a pity that he'd never had for his coworker before. A reluctant tissue pass, a couple since one clearly wasn't enough. "Say, are you... sick?"
A rough nose blow, loud and soaking the tissue to death. A second blow with a new tissue, followed by a groan of relief after clearing his congested nostrils. "No, I'm just like this. C'mon Sherlock, yes. But it's no biggie. I feel fine enough. Get to work, don't worry over me."
"I'm not remotely worried about you, you could get shot and It'd be funny. And you're wrong. I'm right, his wife didn't do it..." He trailed off into a long explanation that made sense to Theo and only Theo.
"You're wrong. She has a criminal record. I think. Maybe... shit. Or maybe that was the wife's brother? Or did the victim have a record." He mumbled off in a confused feverish daze. Flipping through papers. "Why is this not in the file? I'm checking records" He stated to himself, standing with a groan, trying to hide the very obvious feverish stumbles as he walked to the record room.
Dominic came back out, holding an armful of papers and records on anyone and everyone related to the case. Sniffling hard and nose dripping with no free hand to wipe it.
"Give me hand, would ya?" He sniffled again, the dust from a few files certainly not helping his already agitated nose. "Ghh... hiH-" His breath hitched a bit, ticklish and congested
"No. You're a grown man, you can handle some papers" Theo rolled his eyes, not even bothering to look up to Dom from his seat until he heard something. "You good?"
"I needa hH- snuhHH- snee-" He stuttered out, already failing to keep anything under control. "FuuuhhHH- huH-" He had given up on talking, trying to rush and set the papers down even if it was a big task when desperate to sneeze and riddled with a disorienting fever.
"Don't you dare. Don't even think about sneezing." Theo stood up, making a slow and reluctant attempt to help, though he wanted to see how this worked out. "Just, let me." He shook his head, getting just close enough to hear a hasty warning.
"Gghhgod. Loogk oudt-" Dom's nostrils flared needily, nose twitching and wriggling in a horrible attempt at a hold back that hardly lasted a few seconds.
"HhhuHH- HaGHH- hhHA'NGHSHhh'tuh! NGH'CHSHHh'uh!" The first two of his fit were pitiful stifles, through gritted teeth that made most the spray escape from his nose. "NGHT'MMmph'shuhh--!" A still very loud stifle, only made possible as Theo shoved his handkercheif against Dominic's face, roughly pinching his nose shut.
"That was disgusting." Theo stated, feeling the wetness against his fingers despite the border. "But, bless you."
Dom was still staring in a feverish confusing, having the files taken from his hands and left with a much needed handkerchief. "...What?"
He wasn't at all ashamed of possibly giving the whole office his cold, nor about his loud sneezes, nor his still drippy nose that had left a gross spray everywhere. No. Embarrassed that that stupid Theo had to help him.
"What do you mean what? Didn't hear me again?" He taunted, setting the stacks of paper down on his desk, sitting down and going back to the last few sips of his coffee. "Get to work, sneezy. There's a homicide going on."
---
That's it for now lol, idk if I should write more. lmk if you like this? I'm shy about posting this but wtv.
Summary: Wanda and Nat had wanted you to join their relationship from the beginning. But when you fall sick they can’t help but to care for you and make their feelings known.
TW: Delirium (idk if that’s a warning or not lol), one swear word
A/N Not edited.
Dragging yourself out of bed, you felt someone had replaced all the blood in your body with concrete. Your limbs hurt and they were hard to move. Your head felt like it was full of rocks and was just as heavy too. Stumbling to the bathroom, you splashed some water on your face. Of course you would wake up sick. Throwing on some makeup and taking a Panadol to stop in ache in your bones and head, you trudged downstairs looking slightly more presentable.
“Morning Y/n/n” Wanda called from where she was making pancakes. Upon hearing this Nat also looked up from where she was drowning a stack in maple syrup and ice-cream. Nat loved sweet foods.
“Morning detka.” Nat called, eyes returning to them tower.
Trying your best to keep your voice steady you bid them good morning and took a seat. Luckily they seemed to buy it. You must have zoned out because a second later Wanda was laying your own stack of pancakes in front of you and Nat looked like she was waiting for an answer to something.
“Sorry. Could you repeat the question.” You mumbled. Nat frowned and Wanda looked at you closely, making you squirm slightly in your seat.
“I asked if you wanted toppings?” She said unsurely.
“Are you feeling ok?” Wanda asked, going to lay a hand on your cheek. You dodged, putting on a weak smile.
“Just tried. I need some coffee.” You said, voice husky. You played it off as the lasting effects of sleep and got up despite your body’s protests to get coffee.
When you returned to the table, the world tilted for a second making you stumble slightly as you sat back down.
“Honey? Do you want to go back to bed?” Wanda asked, Nat eyed you closely.
Your body screamed at you to say yes but you simply shook your head. Not helping with the dizziness. You put your head down on the table. Too tired to conjure anymore of a charade for the couple. Wanda and Nat had been dating long before you joined the team. And as much as you loved both women, you didn’t want to spoil their love for each other. So you were happy to watch from afar, the twinge in your heart becoming a constant ache.
“Love?” Nat asked.
“Yeah?” You grumbled.
“She asked if you wanted anything?” Wanda frowned. Leaning forward, she brushed a hand over your head, pausing before laying the back of her hand on your forehead.
“Nat, she’s quite warm.” Wanda shot a concerned look at the other girl, who came around to feel for herself.
Upon laying her hand on your flushed cheek, Nat hissed. Her hand taking the makeup off your cheek to reveal a pink flush to your skin.
“Shes more than a little warm.” Nat agreed
“Friday?” Wanda asked, reappearing with a wash cloth to remove the makeup. She crouched down in front of you. Gently she wiped off all the concealer and set the cloth down again.
“Yes Ms. Maximoff” the AI replied
“What is Y/n’s temperature?”
“Y/n appears to be running a fever of 102.8” Friday responded.
“Shit.” Nat swore, receiving a playful slap from Wanda on the arm.
Scooping you up, Nat carried you back to Wanda and her shared room. Wanda trailed behind.
Waking up slightly, to find yourself in Nat’s strong arms, your head felt fuzzy.
“Natty?” You asked voice sounding high and slurred. Wanda shot Nat a look at the nickname.
“Yes love?” Nat cooed.
“Can you turn the sun down please.” You huffed burying your head in her armpit. She thanked god she had put on more deodorant after training.
Wanda chuckled slightly at Nat’s thoughts, receiving a glare from the redhead in question.
“Bit delirious there sweetheart?” Wanda cooed. Stroking back your hair as Nat laid you on their bed.
“‘M not your sweetheart.” You mumbled making both girls freeze. You had never denied their names for you in the past. And they knew your fever was making you say things, but curiosity won out in the end.
“No?” Nat asked.
“ B’t I wanna be.” You smiled snuggling into Wanda’s side as she ran her hands through your hair. “One day.” You grinned.
Nat retuned a moment later with two cold wash cloths. Placing one on the back of your neck and handing Wanda another for your forehead. You wined at the coldness and Wanda shushed you, pulling you in flush to her side. Your eyes fought to stay open.
“It’s alright sweetheart, close those pretty eyes for us now.” Wanda cooed.
You feel asleep to Wanda’s nails on your scalp and Nat tracing patterns between your shoulder blades.
Next time you woke up your fever had broken and both girls were asleep beside you. Your memories were fuzzy and as your words came back to you, you shot up in bed. Accidentally waking both girls in the process.
“What’s wrong detka?” Nat asked, shooting a worried look at Wanda who laid a hand on your cheek. Blushing you stuttered out an apology.
“Now. Now. There’s no need for that sweetheart. We were happy to help.” Wanda hushed.
You flopped back onto the bed. Freezing when you felt a soft pair of lips on yours.
“Sorry.” Nat grinned sheepishly. “Couldn’t help it, your so cute when you pout.”
“‘S ok” you smiled. “I kinda liked it.”
“Then maybe I can have a turn.” Wanda grinned, pulling you into her for another kiss. Her lips were soft and tasted like honey.
Realising what was happening you panicked. “Im sorry. Im so sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your relationship. Im tired and sick and I let my emotions get out of check. And-“
“Its ok.” Wanda shushed, cutting off your rambling.
“We have wanted to do that for a long time.” Nat agreed.
“Don’t think we haven’t notice you watching us.” Wanda smiled slyly.
Of course they noticed. One was a mind reader and the other a trained spy. You groaned, making both girls giggle.
“If you don’t mind we would love for you to join our little relationship.” Nat smiled, brushing the hair from your eyes. Wanda smiled at the blush that rose to your cheeks.
“Ok.” You mumbled quietly. Wanda contained a squeal at your cuteness. Both girl laid either side of you pulling your body into theirs as Wanda coaxed you back to sleep. When your eyes were finally shut, Nat whispered to Wanda.
“Can we keep her?”
“I don’t think we’ll ever be letting her go.” Wanda smiled sweetly down at your sleeping form.
The prisoner should not concern himself with the wellbeing of his captor (1252 words) by Sangue_di_drago
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Squid Game (TV 2021)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Hwang Inho | Front Man/Seong Gihun, Hwang Inho | Front Man/Hwang Inho | Front Man's Wife (Squid Game)
Characters: Hwang Inho | Front Man (Squid Game), Seong Gihun
Additional Tags: Sickfic, Sick Character, Fluff and Angst, Manipulation, Maybe - Freeform, you decide it it's manipulation or not
Series: Part 15 of Writing exercise
Summary:
Inho falls sick. For some reason, only Gihun can take care of him.
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You got sick and joel nurses you back to health (really fluffy ofc)
hiii!! tysm for the request!! <33
GN reader, sicfic, fluff
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When you wake up, something feels off. Not immediately sure what that is, you roll over expecting to bump into the human radiator that is Joel Miller. Instead, the other side of the mattress is cold, the curtains are already open and there’s a steaming mug on the bedside table.
You grunt unintelligibly and decide it must be at least late morning, looking out the window.
Then you feel how horribly stuffy your head is, a sharp pain increasing between your eyes as the sunlight hits you. An unexpected side effect of living through an apocalypse is how long it takes you to notice something’s wrong with you, so used to brushing off aches and pains to focus on more important matters.
Now settled down in Jackson, it’s a habit you can’t seem to shake.
Reaching the conclusion you’re most definitely sick, you crawl out of bed and stumble across to the bathroom. Then, down the stairs to check if the other two occupants of the house are anywhere to be seen.
Joel is, which you’re not quite sure how you feel about. On one hand, you’re relieved to not be alone, your inner child desperately in need of some comfort while so vulnerable. On the other, you hate the idea of looking so weak in front of him.
He’s doing something on the hob when you shuffle into the kitchen.
“El- oh! Sweetheart, what are you doing out of bed?” He scolds, a furrow between his brow.
“Uhh,” you realise you must look a pitiful sight, pyjamas crumpled and somewhat clinging to your clammy skin, hands locked together to stop yourself shivering.
“Come on now, let’s get you back upstairs,” he says, immediately at your side. “You’ll catch your death.”
You let him lead you back up the stairs and into his room, leaning into him heavily. Sitting down on the bed, you watch him as he busies himself gathering … you’re not sure what. Your mind must drift because the next thing you know, Joel’s tapping your shoulder softly to get your attention.
“Lie down now, gimme a sec.”
The pain in your head spikes and you can barely process a word being said so you stay sitting, slumped over as your body feels heavier and heavier. Joel comes back and gently pushes you into lying down, pulling the covers back up. The pile of blankets and quilts in his arms get set down one by one, laid over you carefully as anything.
“Better?”
“Y-yeah.”
“Good.”
You can feel sleep drifting back in but you’re still there to feel him drop a kiss on your forehead. And when he heads for the door, something in your brain jerks you awake quickly.
“Joel?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Can- can you stay?”
He doesn’t answer, not verbally at least. But his socked feet step quickly back over to you, wanting to do whatever he can to be useful. He climbs into the bed, leaving space between him and you. You close it immediately, ducking under his chin so you can lie just above his heart beat. His warmth seeps into you instantly and you shudder at the temperature change, nuzzling closer.
“Get some more sleep,” he says into your hair, laying an arm over your waist, his hand splayed out on your back. “I’ll be here.”
Coming in and out of consciousness, either shivering or overheated, you’re soothed back to sleep every time by the steady weight of Joel’s arm around your torso. Grounded by his familiar smell, chicory coffee, Jackson produced soap and hay from all his time spent with Ellie in the stables.
Your dreams take strange shapes in your feverish state, unsettling in their surrealness. Waking from a particularly bad one, you find yourself already sitting up, held in Joel’s lap. His arms are keeping you pressed to his chest, fully encompassing you as he murmurs things you can’t quite hear yet. The wisps of the dream are already floating away with every circle traced into your back.
i would like to express my stance on the difference between “i think im gonna be sick” and “im gonna be sick”
When sickie states “i think im gonna be sick,” there is uncertainty in that statement. sure, in some cases they are right, but its not them outright stating that they WILL be sick in that exact moment, they just feel that they will be. Meanwhile, “Im gonna be sick” is sickie stating that they will be sick. The sudden heat on their face, the gag feeling in their throat, they are about to be sick, and they absolutely know it.
when writing sickfics, knowing the difference between these two sentences is very important. if the sickie KNOWS FOR A FACT that they will throw up, they wouldnt say that they think they will. this could give the caretaker the false sense of time, thinking they can help before its too late, despite not having any time at all. and, the two sentences really change the tone of the story.
AN: so this is part 2 of kinda like the after math of what happened as a result of having unprotected sex in the kitchen from my one shot Morning Kitchen Sex Turns Into Baby Making (SMUT) . if you read that and seen the ending, it showed a piece of the morning sickness but as i started writing this, i decided i wanted it to go a bit different, so the little sentence or two at the end of that one shot won't exactly go like this one shot will but just know its in the same universe and meant to be the same situation. hope that made sense, bye and enjoy!!!
This story contains: puking, crying, comfort, fluff
{ dad!harry - youngdad!harry - husband!harry - soft!harry - 3 kids already - Harry age 26 & you're 24 }
word count: 1220
You wake up twice with a sick tummy and after some thought, you come to the conclusion that you're probably pregnant and having morning sickness.
Getting pregnant when you were very young had its challenges. Yourself and Harry knew you wanted to have kids together one day, but maybe not as soon as you did. Everyone in your life was supportive and you managed to work around Harry’s career as a singer. It was just hard to adjust to the changes one's body goes through as a fetus develops within a womb.
One of the hardest parts of getting pregnant so young or really pregnant in general is the symptoms that come along with growing a baby in your belly. The morning sickness, backaches, swollen feet, unstable hormones, cravings. And within all the potential symptoms that pregnancy can bring, you'd wish to not have morning sickness. Morning sickness is worse than anything imaginable.
But with each of the three babies you have had, morning sickness has been very prevalent in your first trimesters. You honestly believe the only way you have gotten through each pregnancy’s morning sickness is with the help of your husband Harry. He’s the most caring and supportive person in your life but especially when you’re at your most vulnerable. So you have no worries as to if he’d help you with morning sickness again if you were to get pregnant for a fourth time.
---------------------
You’re in bed pressed to the front of Harry’s body as he spoons you. One of his arms is under your body and hooked across your collarbone, and his other arm is laying over your hip, hand tucked under your side that’s pressed into the mattress. Both your legs are intertwined with each other and the warm covers are up over your body's, resting at your shoulder blades. It’s a very comforting position to be in when sleeping. Harry keeps you warm and the feeling of his chest expanding behind your body is soothing in a way.
Your peaceful state of sleep in your husband's arms doesn’t last for long though. You slowly awake with this awful feeling in your stomach. One you don’t register at first. You lift your head from your pillow slightly and can see the glowing numbers on your digital clock read 4:00 am meaning it's too early for your normal body clock to awake. Then you’re brought back to the realization that your stomach feels funny. No, not funny, sick. Like nauseous sick. But there is one problem. Harry has you secured in his arms tightly and you feel trapped.
Panic sets in when you start to feel your mouth water and not the good mouth watering way, but the I’m about to throw up mouth watering. You grab onto Harry’s arms, trying to pry them off your body and when you do, you jump from the bed and run to your bathroom that’s across the bedroom.
In the process of trying to get to the bathroom in time, you hold down gag after gag and accidently hit the corner of a wall due to the darkness which in turn makes a loud pang illuminate the room, waking Harry from his sleep. But you have no time to explain what or why you made that sound because all you can focus on is not puking on the floor.
Finally you make it to the toilet and the second you’re standing in front of it, vomit pours out of your mouth like Niagara Falls. When Harry finally comes to his senses from being abruptly awoken and realizes it was you who hit the wall and you’re no longer in his arms, he flips the duvet back and quickly walks towards the bathroom after you.
As Harry gets closer to the master bathroom, he can hear aggressive dry heaves and cries of uncomfortableness coming from within. And when he steps inside the door, he’s hit with a heartbreaking view of you crouched down in front of the toilet, throwing up last night's dinner. Quickly, Harry rushes over towards your body and collects your hair in his large hand and places his other hand over your sweaty back to rub in soothing circles.
When you realize your husband has woken up and is with you now, you mutter through a breath between heaves, “Harry.”
“Shh my love. I’ve got you baby. Relax and let it out so you can feel better.” Harry whispers calmly in his sleep laced voice from behind you. He just assumes you have a stomach bug or maybe had a bad reaction to your dinner last night. It hasn’t occurred to him that it could be morning sickness. Heck, it hasn’t even dawned on you that you’re experiencing morning sickness.
After a few more nasty expels of vomit in the toilet, you feel weak and are glad Harry is behind you to support your body. You reach with teary eyes to rip some toilet paper away and clean your mouth and nose before crumbling back into his arms. Harry reaches forward to flush the bile filled toilet before he gets sick himself at the sight and smell and settles his boxer clad bum down on the hard tiles, leaning against the wall, and situating you in his lap.
You lean against his chest and begin to softly cry from the sick feeling you still have in your belly. “Baby, what’s got you so sick? Do you think you caught a little tummy bug?” Harry coos while running his fingers through your hair, trying his best to relax your slightly shaking body.
“I don’t know. I just feel so sick.” you reply back weakly. Harry sits on the bathroom floor with you for a few more minutes, just holding you in his lap, before you ask if you can go back to bed as sleep outweighs the upset stomach you have. “Can we go back to bed please?”
Harry responds with, “Course darling.” He carefully helps you up and walks you back into the bedroom and over to your bed. He pulls the comforter over your body nicely and kisses your forehead.
Then when Harry goes to leave, you cry out, “Don’t leave me.”
With a laugh, Harry mutters, “I’m not leaving you love. Just going to get you a glass of water and a cold cloth for your head. I’d never leave you silly.”
Harry goes down the stairs quietly and grabs you a glass of water from the kitchen. Then before he enters your bedroom, he stops by each of your child's rooms and makes sure they are all still sleeping peacefully. After that, he comes back into your shared room and sets the glass on your bedside table and goes to collect the washcloth from the bathroom.
“Shh, it’ll make you feel better.” your husband speaks softly when you jump at the feel of the cool temperature of the damp washcloth he’s laying over your forehead. Once it's placed nicely, Harry grabs a trash can and sets it on the floor beside your side of the bed. “If you feel sick again, the bin is right here alright. No more running to the toilet.”
Harry walks around the bed and slips back into the covers with you, scooting over to your body to snuggle closely and you both fall back asleep.
----------------
At about six in the morning, you wake back up to a swirling in your tummy. You don’t have much time to register this feeling unlike last time, before you're jerking your body off to the side of the bed and projectile vomiting into the trash can Harry set out for you. Your loud retching has him waking up right away. And due to the sun peeking through the bedroom windows, he can clearly see you and immediately sits up to reach forward, grabbing your hair to hold back so it's not in your face.
Shuffling behind you in bed, hand still holding your hair, Harry whispers, “It's alright my love. There we go.”
“I don’t like this Harry.” you whine as your stomach seems to calm down.
“I know you don't, baby. I still don’t know what’s got you sick. I hope our little ones don’t catch whatever it is because chasing around puking children is never fun.” Harry retorts with flashbacks to all the times he and yourself have had to take care of your kids when they had sick tummies.
You lay back down and Harry goes to clean the can out so your room doesn’t fill with the stench of vomit. As he’s gone, something dawns on you. What if you’re experiencing morning sickness? Now that you think about it, you did tell Harry to put a baby in you a few weeks ago in the kitchen and ever since that morning, you’ve been having unprotected sex.
When Harry comes back to cuddle you before your kids awake for the morning, you blurt out, “I think I’m pregnant.”
“What.” Harry gasps but is confused as to why you think so. Then it also clicks in his head. He’s been through three other babies with you and that means he’s helped you through three different sets of morning sicknesses. And the unprotected sex you’ve been having. All the glorious times you let him cum inside you recently.
When you turn your head to look at Harry’s face, you can see his eyes watering, as if he's about to cry. So you turn to completely face him and ask gently, “Why are you crying Harry? I may not be. We’ll have to go by the store later and buy a test. Don’t get your hopes up yet.”
“There could be a baby inside your tummy. If there is, I’m really happy. If there isn’t, well you may need to see a doctor to find out why you’re throwing up this morning like you have been.” Harry replies with a hopeful smile.
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Neither of you fall back asleep, but you stay cuddled in bed until each of your kids start filing into your room, one by one, and crawling in the middle of you two. You and Harry give your kids lots of warm hugs and snuggles before Harry decides it's time for him to go pick you up a pregnancy test from the store for you to take.
Harry gets himself and all your kids dressed while you stay resting in bed. Then after he’s fed them each a small breakfast, he loads them into his car, drives to the store, and picks up a pregnancy test with some of your favorite snacks as well. And to cover up the purpose of the store trip, he buys each of your kids a doll they picked out. Yes, even your son. Toys have no gender specified rules.
Later that evening, you take the test, and yes it came back positive meaning you are now officially pregnant with the fourth Style's baby.
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another AN: this was supposed to be longer with more details but i got lazy and just wanted to put something out so it may not be my best but its not half bad i don't think.
