The pain woke me up around five in the morning. I could hear Harry snoring a bit, my face still pressed to his back and arms wrapped around his waist as we had fallen asleep. I didn’t want to wake him, but as I bit down on my lip to keep from moaning as the pain ripped through my abdomen I knew there was more of a chance that I would wake him if I stayed here. Also, judging by the pain, if I didn’t get up soon I’d probably soak through the sheets and Harry had just changed them yesterday. I slowly pulled my arms away from him and with that one movement his snoring stopped and I froze, thinking I woke him. But, luckily, his snoring resumed and I sighed, carefully rolling away from him until my feet met the cold hardwood. The nausea hit me not long after I came to a standing position and I rushed to the bathroom, quietly closing the door behind me before falling to my knees in front of the toilet, hugging the bowl like a dear friend, so blinded by the pain I didn’t care that my face was touching a toilet bowl. I didn’t vomit though, not yet, so after a few moments of realizing that it wasn’t coming up, I laid down on the cold tile, close to tears. You have to put a tampon in, I reminded myself, but thought I would rather die than stuff anything up there at the moment. I did it anyway. It made the pain worse. I vomited about three minutes later. There was a soft knock at the door after that and I cursed myself for being too loud. “Love? You alright? Sounds a bit like a war zone in here.” “Go back to bed, Harry,” I paused to wince, hoping he wouldn’t hear, “M’fine.” I said through my teeth. “Yeah, that sounded very convincing,” He yawned and jiggled the doorknob, “Lemme in.” I sighed, but crawled on hands and knees to the door, reaching up to twist it and then pulling it open. Harry’s eyes followed me to the floor and he frowned, “What’s the matter?” “Cramps are killing me.” I whined and curled back up into a ball on the floor. “It’s that bad this month? You should call your doctor, the birth control’s supposed to make this better, maybe you need to switch brands or somethin’ if it’s not working properly.” His voice was laced with concern as he crouched down next to me. He soon realized I didn’t really give a shit right now about my birth control as I stayed silent, “What can I do, love? You can’t be lying on the bathroom floor all day.” I groaned as if to say Yes I can. He got the message and sighed. “Do you want some tea? Have you had any tylenol?” “I’ll just throw it back up.” “You should at least try, babe.” I groaned again, “What about a bath, can I run you a bath?” I started crying, “I’ll jus’ bleed all in it! It’ll look like a homicide.” He giggled. “S’not funny!” I cried, snot cascading out of my nose. “Okay, okay, you’re right, I’m sorry, c’mere love, lemme hold you.” I sniffed and looked at him like a puppy who was unsure of the stranger in her mist. He beckoned me with his arms again, “C’mon.”I crawled over to him and into his lap, his arms engulfing me and I quietly sighed in contentment as I rested my head against his shoulder. “Let’s get you back in bed, yeah?” “No!” I protested, “No, I’ll just have to get back up to throw up again.” “I’ll put a bag next to the bed.” “Harry—“ “Don’t even try to argue with me on this, I’m not going to leave you on the floor of the bathroom.” I groaned, but only tightened my grip around his neck as he stood up with me in his arms, walking us back to the bedroom, “Why don’t you wake me up when you feel like this? I don’t like waking up to an empty bed and hearing you hurting alone in the other room.” He says as he lowers me into bed. “You shouldn’t have to suffer with me.” “I like taking care of you.” He climbed into the other side of the bed and immediately slid his hand under my t-shirt to rub my stomach, “That better?” I closed me eyes and nodded, my muscles relaxing at his touch. I felt him shift a bit, coming closer to me and then my muscles jumped a bit at the feel of his mouth on my stomach. I felt him laugh a bit at my reaction and then he continue to pepper kisses on my stomach, pushing my shirt up so he could get at more skin. “Babe, that tickles.” I said, eyes still closed, but I reached my hand out to run through his hair.Instead of stopping, he blew a raspberry on my stomach causing me to squeal, “Stop it!” But I was laughing and when I opened my eyes, he was grinning up at me and he blew another raspberry against my skin and started tickling me even as I protested. He only stopped when he noticed I was laughing so hard that I was having trouble catching my breath and he kissed my stomach again, still giggling to himself. “Feel better now?” He kept his hand on my stomach, rubbing it in circles, but he came up next to me, kissing my cheek before snuggling under my chin, nose pressed to my neck. “A bit, yeah.” I felt tired again and closed my eyes, “Thank you, love.” “Of course.” He murmured and pressed a kiss to my neck, “Love you.” And I focused on his touch until I fell back asleep.
also known as "get none_kitten's headcanons away from me asap"
yells a lot, hugs everyone and gives smoochy cheek kisses. even to Kakashi. never let him drink again. probably would light a trashcan on fire. is oblivious to anyone flirting with him, to a point where it's painful to watch.
Tsunade 2.0, now with upgraded damage.
blushes a lot, suddenly he doesn't fuck up human conversation, but also has a horrible headache and pukes halfway.
snark level 527383106
suddenly blurts out ALL the random facts. hey did you know the Eiffel tower was shorter in winter?
flirts with and teases every-fucking-one around the table (or town), but doesn't really follow through.
cheap-ass drunk food, probably pizza from the shadiest street food place? gimmmeeeee
wow she speaks a lot. probably about serious literature and poetry. also is really pretty with the blush and shiny eyes she's got going on.
deems the entire thing illogical but gets ass-drunk anyways, starts up conversation with the local flora and fauna (and by this i mean that at one point he was probably hugging a decorative ficus) then leaves without a word to go sleep.
challenges Naruto in yelling matches, pisses off the balcony, ends up snuggling with Akamaru, hanging half off the beer-stained couch.
super cute, probably would look amazing in a flower crown, is a huge flirt but never notices he's doing it, all the while he keeps swaying from one foot to the other. string of broken hearts left behind? check. does he remember it in the morning? nah, son
takes interest in the butcher knives in the kitchen, and gives murderous glances to anyone who tries to chat her up. takes care of Neji though, when he can't walk anymore, and pretends not to know Lee.
accidentally drop-kicks someone off the balcony, because THE POWER OF YOUTH CAN'T BE CONTAINED!!!!
rants about the Springtime of Youth for about two and a half beers, then falls asleep on the table because he's getting to old for this, dammit
plays bored for half the evening, flirts with everyone the other half (and by flirting i mean he's the sassiest bitch in town and takes home whomever lasts the longest). has a pretty pink blush on the visible half of his face. probably made Sharingan jokes along the evening.
out smoking the whole time, rolling his eyes as people keep asking him for "just one cigarette, mate". when he - occasionally - shows face inside, he keeps eyeing Kurenai in a definite leer.
tries way too hard to ignore Asuma's stares. ends up getting a ride home in Asuma's car. probably tries to convince Kiba at least twice to go home already and sleep it off.
starts telling more and more disturbing jokes and cackles madly.
facepalms endlessly because Anko also has a vine-like grip on his arm and clings on. painfully.
drunken rants. so many of them. 90% of it is probably vegan activism.
Kotetsu and Izumo:
making out in a corner. from all that's showing, they could pass a) as teenagers in love b) as they're currently having hot hot steamy sex c) they morphed into one being with too many limbs and hair d) all of the above
blushes. blushes a lovely shade of deep red only lobsters have.
there's a line forming to slam-dunk his face into the toilet. a line of very angry women.
there's a private Hokage party upstairs where Hashirama is acting like a child, Tobirama is more done than Ibiki and Kakashi combined, Hiruzen chuckles good-naturedly over a cup of fine sake, and Minato has a drunken flush on his face as he stares starry-eyed into nowhere.
Claire clicked her pen against the graffiti laden desk. Exam finished, she only needed to wait out another thirty minutes and she’d be free for another day.
Only three more to go, she chanted silently as her stomach twisted.
Gripping the edge of the small exam table, she dipped her head forward, placing her forehead on the cold wood.
The sickness had started only a month before. Claire had awoken, the grip of something painful rolling through her stomach as she’d dashed for the toilet, only just making it in time to lose the contents of her belly.
Since then, Claire had managed to control the vomiting. But now, under the pressure of one of her most important A Levels, the stress was making it hard to counteract the very pressing need.
Putting her hand up, she gripped her waist, struggling to subdue the urge. Her tummy felt hard, oddly so, she noted, waggling her fingers in an awkward attempt at getting the invigilators attention.
On seeing her, the older woman sidled over, a look of intense boredom plastered across her face.
“I need the toilet, please…” Claire begged, swallowing back the need to throw up over her completed paper.
“Can you not wait? It’ll be over soon and you’re free to go as you please.” The lady returned, clearly not wishing to accompany her at this late hour.
“Can’t.” Claire whispered, sweat gathering at the base of her spine as her stomach revolted quietly.
when you wake up every burning morning with your head laying splattered on the linoleum tiles beneath you & the soulless remains of your eyes mock your reflection in the mirror & you think you’ve tried everything, pills, syringes, exposure therapy, fried egg sandwiches, drowning yourself in barrels of stinging arsenic, making out with the gilt-lipped boy who nicknames you the grim reaper - & of course nothing has worked so far, so you brush your teeth, you avoid brushing your hair, you paint your lips whatever color hides the cold rot of your teeth & you go about your day, which feels like simulating a stab wound, a skien of moonlight skittering between your toes, overripe cider bursting in the gut.
lies: every inch of you. it’s true, you think. some people have nicotine circulating through their veins, you are every brick a delusion. you think about malicious summers, the corpses of fireflies dropping from the smog-licked air, your mother’s voice like sugar rimming a fancy glass, your face in the toilet bowl, your knuckles whitening against the sides like icing, your lips sour from all the invective bullshit that falls out of them, you punch the mirror, you stub your toe, you repaint your nails, you sing yourself to sleep, you are an angel of industrial strength, you are an abandoned temple, you are the algae that smothers the sea rocks, you stick out in nobody’s memory, you don’t even know what you’re doing to yourself anymore. so you slap your skin. it’s wrong, it’s wrong, hello? something’s definitely fucking wrong here! your skin doesn’t slap you back. your own body has tried to run away from you on multiple occasions. you are a mosaic of despair, sad, fossilized little moth, destined to grip for all the light it can never devour, destined for ragings of darkness.
(so maybe sometimes recovery’s a needle through your gums).
so this is the part where your lips turn into twin cigarettes & the world asks for your forgiveness & then your best friend reminds you that the world doesn’t owe you shit & you complain about it for 2.5 hours before getting bored & giving up & going back to praying to god in an empty room from beneath a ramshackle skylight, where the still bodies stutter & the ocean’s ceramic gleams & the sky laughs at you & you close your eyes & cross your hands over your chest & wait for your life to change from the safety of this four-walled concentration camp.
do you wish you were dead? asks the moon. i just wish i’d never been born at all.