Your sister Ridley has passed away, leaving behind her ten-year-old daughter, Sadie. The Dagger Squad goes out of its way to ensure you and Sadie have people you can count on. Boring Saturday nights turned into game nights, rowdy dinners, and cheeri...
Chapter Warnings: +18, strong language, godmother reader/original female character, original child, name-calling and implying some derogatory things, mentions of concussions, Angst, Protective Dagger Squad, mostly from Sadie's POV. Bradley Bradshit Bradshaw.
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The first thing Sadie thought when she woke up in the morning was that she had never had a headache like this one.
She had nothing to compare it to. This wasn't a soccer ball to the face or a cold with a bad stuffed-up nose. This type was the one that made your eyes water in pain, the kind where your headband was just too tight, but there was no headband for her to remove. The type to create intrusive thoughts about hitting your head off a wall to see if that would fix it.
On top of that, she was exhausted from her Uncle Jake waking her up throughout the night, ensuring she could still wake up. And each time he did, she had trouble falling back asleep.
When you came to wake her up in the morning, a smile on your face, she couldn't stop her tears from escaping due to the pain. She could handle a lot, but headaches were her weakness. And your reaction only made it worse, Sadie not wanting to add more to your plate, as a frown graced your face.
Whether the question of if she was feeling okay, physically or emotionally, was going to cross your lips, Sadie didn't want to know.
She groggily sat up, trying to bury her face into your neck, clinging to you tightly and whimpering, "It's my head."
Something about just holding on to you soothed the pain. Sadie could remember the doctor telling her before leaving the hospital that she would feel worse on the second day. She thought he had been stupid to say that; nothing could have been worse than what her entire family just went through.
Then she understood what he meant. However, he should have paid better attention to his choice of words.
Sadie tried to hide her whines as you stood, carrying her out of her bed and into the bathroom, where you single-handedly searched for the bottle of pain meds as she clung to you.
Uncle Jake was working a wooden spoon through a bowl of batter in the kitchen when he saw Sadie in your arms. He frowned and immediately dropped the spoon, walking over to the pair of you and placing a hand resting on Sadie's back.
"It's her head," you spoke quietly, kissing her forehead. Jake took the bottle of meds from your hand without saying anything else, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, saying quietly, "Go sit. I'll get everything ready."
Sadie didn't pay any attention to what was happening after you sat down with her in your lap. Uncle Jake brought over two pills and a glass of orange juice at some point, and you coaxed her into the chair next to you to take them.
But she was impatient, waiting for those nasty things to work, pressing her head into her arms as if the small amount of darkness would help. Then Uncle Jake placed a packet of ice on her neck, and she wanted to cry from the relief.
