#it's an antibiotic too so they need to take it 3 TIMES A DAY FOR 5 DAYS and they can't stop midway through

[forgotten-daydreamer]

vent moment but my health is a bit worse than i let on, which is weird ik since it seems like complain about it all the time here, and apparently i also look sick, because two separate people in their 40s or 50s asked me, 24, if i needed their seat on the bus. kind of them. but humiliating nonetheless.

[coulsonlives]

Pro-tip everyone: if you ever get a bacterial infection (like BV or pericoronitis), beware of a med called metronidazole, also called flagyle. Especially if you have a history of anxiety and or depression!

It's a shitty drug that tastes awful and causes nausea, migraines, etc even if you don't drink alcohol. But even if some people can tolerate that, it also crosses the BBB and can make you feel insane, if not suicidal. And the handouts at pharmacies don't usually have this written down. People literally aren't informed that this medication can give them psychological side effects.

I'm talking to someone rn who just took their first dose. They might end up going to a psych unit because they keep having intrusive thoughts about jumping out the window. This drug isn't a joke, be careful peeps.

[munsonfamilyband]

I have no time right now to elaborate too deeply on this thought but I just had a brain worm and I need to write it down before I forget. Who knows, I may elaborate and make this a whole thing with dialogue tonight, we’ll see. TW for depictions of Steve’s injuries post s4, vomiting, gore(?)

Steve refuses medical treatment at the end of s4, they drop off Eddie and he hides in plain site until it’s time to take Dustin and Robin home.

They stop at Dustin’s first, both he and Robin getting out to get Claudia Hugs (I just know she gives INCREDIBLE hugs). He drops Robin off at home with her promising to keep her walkie on their frequency. And then he goes home alone.

He tries to shower, it hurts his feet and back too much. He tries to change the “bandage” but just gently tugging almost makes him black out from pain. So he collapses on his bed and passes out.

Days go by, he’s trying to act normal, like he isn’t always running a fever and his sides are itching and starting to smell under the cologne he practically bathes in. It works for a few days at least, but Claudia gets suspicious by day 3 post earthquake when Steve shows up for lunch with flushed cheeks. 2 days later he doesn’t show up.

She drives over alone, Dustin is at the Wheeler’s, and she lets herself in with the key Steve gave her and Dustin after last summer. She calls his name, doesn’t get an answer but something smells off. She’s a nurse, she recognizes the scent of disease.

She hurries upstairs and finds Steve in bed, only wearing boxers and the filthy scrap of cloth wrapped around his stomach. He’s sweating and has vomited on himself at least twice, recently too. She immediately knows that he is what smells, she can see the pus and blood on his abdomen. He’s delirious, mumbling to himself and part of her wants to shut down and cry, to go cradle this boy, her son in all ways but blood, but she can’t. She steels herself and walks to his bedside to feel his forehead, almost recoiling from how hot his skin is.

As she keeps checking him over, she grabs the phone on his bedside table and calls 911, cradling the phone between her ear and shoulder to keep working. When the operator answers she explains who she is, where she is and what’s happening.

It’s a blur after that until she’s sitting in the hospital waiting room and she realizes that 1. her shirt and her hands reek of Steve’s blood, and 2. she’s completely alone in the waiting room. Swallowing her tears, Claudia goes over to the payphone and fishes out some coins to call the Buckely’s. Robin’s father picks up but quickly hands it over when Claudia mentions Steve.

She will never forget the choked off sound of pure distress Robin makes when she hears what’s happening.

Hours pass, Robin had arrived shortly after the call and her and Claudia have been curled up together in the waiting room every since. They haven’t called anyone else, haven’t even thought about it, too worried about Steve. Later, Claudia will remember the other kids who adore Steve, Hopper who treats Steve like a son. But in that moment, still not knowing if her boy is okay, she can’t.

Finally, a doctor steps out, clearly fresh from surgery, to speak with them. She explains that Steve had a very severe infection in multiple wounds, especially the ones on his side. They had to debride the wounds, which is what took so long. He was lucky that she found him when he did and that he hadn’t picked up any truly terrible bacteria. He hadn’t gone septic, thankfully, but he was going to be on seriously strong antibiotics for a while. She explained that he was in the ICU and they aren’t supposed to let anyone but family see him.

Claudia wanted to scream and sob and go find the Harringtons and get them to come see their son, but before she even says anything Robin explains that Steve’s parents had all but disowned him and her and Claudia were both in his emergency contacts, not his parents.

The doctor lets them see him. They have to wear face masks and gloves, but they can see him. Claudia had never seen him look so small. And there, in that ICU room, her and Robin both broke and started crying. That was how Jim Hopper found them when he arrived shortly after, the nurses having called him. He’s wearing a mask and gloves but his eyes are wild and scared. He nearly falls over when he sees Steve.

Steve is unconscious for almost two weeks, though the first four or five days or so were due to sedatives - the doctor wanted him to rest and let the antibiotics work. After he was taken off the sedatives he was moved out of the ICU, to a regular room where other people could visit. The kids came and decorated his room, even brought something Eddie had “commissioned” from Will (it looked like Steve ripping one of those creepy things from that alien movie apart, which she really didn’t get). Joyce brought him the quilt from her couch that he always enjoyed at movie nights and Robin came in every other day with his shampoo and conditioner to wash his hair for him (on days she didn’t come to wash his hair, she would come do something else with him. One day Claudia walked in on her painting his nails and her heart felt like it was melting).

The day he finally woke up was the first day Robin hadn’t been able to come. Her parents had forced her to take a break and get some sleep, so Claudia was there on her own just reading a book. She was so engrossed in it that she dropped it in shock when she heard the person on the bed in front of her make noise. Her eyes instantly went to Steve and she could see him scrunching up his face and groaning.

Claudia was by his side in a heartbeat, gently grabbing his hand and brushing a hand over his cheek, speaking softly to let him know she was there. His eyes slowly squinted open, clearly struggling to get the energy to move at all. Their eyes locked and his mouth twitched, like he wanted to smile at her. Then, as she was watching him with tears in her eyes, he opened his mouth and spoke for the first time in weeks.

“Mom….”

[luveline]

Hi jade, I have a hurt/comfort request for Steve, maybe reader was there with the party for all the vecna stuff and maybe gets hurt, afterwards Steve taking care of her and staying w her in the hospital and stuff? Love your writing!

thank you for requesting <3 fem!reader

“Did you know there’s like, a concessions stand?” 

You moan at the pain between your shoulders, turning onto your arm. Steve lounges in the chair beside you with a paper plate of donuts on his chest. His legs are kicked up on your bed. He’s taken his shoes off, at least. 

“Free donuts, coffee, they even had flapjacks.” 

“Steve, I think you have to pay for those.” 

He puts the plate on your bed. “Well, they can’t send you to jail.” 

“‘Cos my back’s broken?” 

“‘Cos you’re too pretty for prison.” Steve sits up properly. “You need help?” 

He moves the donuts again onto your nightstand and hooks you under the arms to ease you into a sitting position. You’re back isn’t broken, for the record, but you fell funny coming out of the gate a few days ago and you haven’t bounced back yet. Worse, you've got an infected burn on your hand, wrist and arm from your Molotov cocktail. It’s out of commission, as are you while they pump antibiotics into the crook of your elbow. Steve’s careful not to tug your IV. 

You gasp, the twinge in your back turning to flame. “I know,” Steve murmurs, shockingly sincere, “I’m sorry. You’re not supposed to lie down all the time, or it won’t get better.” 

“I know.” 

“Yeah, of course you do. You know everything.” 

Insult or compliment, you’re unsure. What you do know is that Steve’s come to see you every day since you were checked in, he’s the one who checked you in, and he’s taken good care of you so far. He’s not even your boyfriend, you thought he liked Nancy— but he’s rubbing his hands down your shoulders and looking you in your face despite the horror he’s sure to be witnessing. Bruised eye, greasy nose, hair thankfully clean but completely untouched otherwise. 

“Better?” he asks, cupping your cheek. 

Is he gonna kiss me? you think. You glance down at his lips, then back up. Steve doesn’t notice or doesn’t mention it, his fingers drawing a gentle path behind your ear as his thumb aligns with your jaw. 

“Hey, don’t cry.” 

You shake your head. “No, I’m not.”

“Sorry, you just looked so sad for a second.” He laughs wryly. Though you don’t feel like he’s making fun of you, he teases, “Cheer up. What have you got to be so sad about?” 

“You keep harassing me.” 

“Oh, that’s how it is!” He tips his head back. “Nurse! I’d like to report a thief!” 

You gasp, laugh, and attempt to cover his mouth as strikes of pain nibble up your spine. “Steve, don’t–” He catches your hands to stop you from silencing him, but he doesn’t shout again, holding your hands together in his lap, smiling smugly and affectionately at once. He has nice eyes that are almost almond in shape and a lovely light brown. They glow in the slither of light that sneaks its way through the blinds, raw amber, stomach-achingly pretty. 

You can’t look at him for too long. You defer to your hands scrunched up in the sheets instead. 

“I did pay for the donuts, by the way. I’m just messing with you.” 

You try to laugh. “Why doesn't that surprise me?” 

“You act like I’m such a jerk,” he says fondly, pulling you in for a cautious hug. He’s tender when he needs to be, you’d never have thought it of him, how sweetly and softly he rubs your back, how he murmurs near your ear. “Do you need more meds? I’m sure they can get you another dose of the good stuff if you pretend your gummy arm is aching.” 

“Thanks, Steve, but I’m fine.” 

He hums. “Think I can get them to let me stay the night?” 

“Steve, I’m really okay.” 

“It’s not about you, I just don’t wanna go home,” he lies poorly, “they don’t have donuts at home–”

His hand leaves your back. “Are you eating over my shoulder?” you ask. 

He hugs you tighter with the remaining arm. “What? No.” 

You feel sprinkles falling down your back and ignore it for now. He’ll have to help you out of bed in a few minutes anyways. He can sort it out then. For now, you lean into his chest and close your eyes tight. 

“I’ll sleep better in the chair by your bed,” he promises. 

[thefandomlesbian]

Thinking about House's infarction and recovery and based on the scar, I think he would have had a wound vac for a significant period of time.

(Disclaimer: I am not a doctor, this is conjecture for the sake of fandom, any misconceptions are my own.)

So this is House's scar, per the screen grab I can get off of Google.

In my opinion, the scar seems like it wasn't well-approximated at the time of closure, which makes sense; it's consistent with the idea that his leg was opened and necrotic tissue was debrided, leaving wide margins that couldn't be secured with sutures. (This is a guess; muscular infarctions are incredibly rare and I haven't found any information online on standard procedure for clearing necrotic muscle tissue surgically.) Combine with the fact that an infarction is a clotting issue that can interfere with circulation and perfusion, I think House may have been discharged with a wound vac.

A wound vac is an electronic negative pressure device that assists with wound closure for open wounds, ie the outermost layer of skin isn't sutured/stapled and underlying tissue is exposed. These devices are usually in place for a few weeks.

(This is a stock image I swiped from Google associated with a study on the efficacy of wound vac closures.)

Basically, the tubing hooks to a machine that provides suction for any drainage and helps everything remain clean, among other things. The dressing is generally changed every 48-72 hours and is pretty painful, the adhesives involved are strong to provide total suction (the machine will flag if there is any leak and start beeping, so it must be completely airtight). I've had it described to me as, "It feels like they're peeling your skin off and digging around in your wound."

So from pain alone, this is not something House would've been able to do well by himself. He also eschews nurses, so I find it most likely Wilson provided this care for him. As a surgeon, Wilson is well-acquainted with wound closure techniques and with stages of healing, this is his area of expertise. This is something that needs to be done every 2-3 days, for 3-4 weeks, maybe longer depending on how the wound healed.

Again, based on scarring, it looks like there may have been healing complications. Which, granted, it's House. We see him perform bathtub surgery with no sterile technique or gloves (he also might have had a wound vac for that, too). House attempting to perform his own dressing changes, or worse, foregoing them altogether because it's too painful, except now the suctioned drainage is green and the periwound is hot and bright red and his leg is starting to swell. He needs help, he can't do this himself.

Wilson wants to take him to the hospital to sedate him for debridement and provide IV antibiotics, but House won't go, he's afraid of losing his leg if he's anesthetized again, he'll sooner die of sepsis. Wilson, against his better judgment, does what he must. Clears the dead tissue, cleans the wound, replaces the wound vac dressing, new tubing and canister, all while House is biting a towel like a civil war soldier because he won't be anesthetized again. Wilson fills oral antibiotics to control the infection. Going forward, he religiously changes the dressing, because if the wound becomes gangrenous he knows House will die before he consents to an amputation.

We all discuss House relying on Wilson for mobility after the infarction, which I also think is true and deserves a spotlight. But wound care is such a personal act with regards to House's profession and personality that the notion of Wilson providing for House in this way has me salivating.

[forever-rogue]

angst like this last ep where the reader gets hurt and joel is freaking out because it seems serious and he thinks he’s losing you, but he ends up nursing you back to health <3

AN | Soft Joel! Protective Joel! It’s all here 🥰

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language, Injury [reader gets injured, mentions of infections]

Word Count | 3k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You knew that he was saying your name, but it sounded so different and off. You felt warm, but not in a good way. In a I shouldn't be sweating in the dead of winter type of way.

You swiped away the sweat on your brow as you clutched at your side. Pain. That's where the pain was. You felt his hands move yours out of the way and saw the frown on his face grow. 

"What happened?" you heard that loud and clear. You shook your head, trying to push his hand away from the wound in your side. It was so sensitive that even the slightest bit of touch seemed to aggravate it. You closed your eyes and tried to curl up within yourself but he wasn't having it, "you're hurt!"

"'m fine," you don't know why you lied; you clearly weren't fine, that much was obvious to both Joel and yourself, "wanna sleep."

"You can't sleep yet - you can't-"

The rest of whatever he said was lost as you did manage to fall asleep or pass out or something. Whatever it was, it was better than the searing pain in your side and the discomfort throughout your limbs.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

There was a creaking in the room - or somewhere - repeating in the same way over and over again. It became like a familiar tune as you slept, mostly out of consciousness. 

You tried opening your eyes multiple times but they just felt so heavy, heavy, heavy. So you opted for sleep, for whatever the lull was that you were currently deep in.

Every once in a while you felt something touch you. Your face, your hand, your side - although it didn't feel quite as bad anymore. But, still, you eventually quite ready to get up. Just a little bit longer…

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"It's been days," Joel slammed his fist against the table before immediately regretting the sting in his hand, "how much longer am I supposed to wait?"

"She had a pretty nasty infection," Maria put her hand on top of his, attempting to give him a reassuring squeeze. It did nothing for him; his heart was still in his stomach, “it’s going to take her a while to recover. But the antibiotics and rest are working.”

He let out a heavy sigh as he leaned back in his chair and tipped his head towards the ceiling. She was right, god he knew she was right, but he wouldn’t feel better until you were fully conscious and fully healed. 

“I feel so…helpless,” he scrubbed a hand over his tired face, “what am I supposed to do?”

“Get some sleep yourself,” she gave him the ghost of a smile but he couldn’t find it in his heart to return it, “take care of yourself. And just be there for her. She knows you’re there and that’s what matters. Joel, she made it back to you.”

“She made it back here.”

“No, she dragged herself home to you,” Ellie cut in and gave him a firm look, “she could have died, most people would have given up, most people would be dead. Not her, so consider yourself lucky. Now you have to be there for her.”

“Ellie-”

“I never left you,” she reminded him, her eyes darted to where his scar was hidden beneath his shirt, “and you never left me. And now we don’t leave her. She’ll be okay.”

“I know,” and he did. If anyone could make it through this, it would be you. You were strong, smart, skilled, and so damn stubborn. It was one of his favorite things about you. And yet…still. It hard to just be there while you were suffering, “I know.”

“Eat,” Maria insisted softly, “rest. You have to take care of yourself too.”

Ellie gently touched his shoulder before hugging him tightly from behind, “it’ll be okay, Joel. I promise.”

And somehow that was all he needed to hear because he felt the slightest bit better. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A steady sound reached your ears, soft but consistent. You couldn’t quite place it but it was somehow extremely reassuring. You moved slightly, trying to readjust yourself but let out a sharp hiss of pain. Okay, that was not going to happen right now. 

Your arm left like it weighed a thousand pounds, but you managed to lift your hand and touched the area that hurt. The tips of your fingers danced over some sort of cloth…a bandage? It spread along your abdomen and while it hurt, the pain was definitely less than what you had remembered. Well, that was a good sign at the least.

A groan escaped your lips as you tried to pry open your eyes, finding them heavy and stiff with sleep. They felt like sandpaper but eventually you managed to open them and tried to blink away all the bleariness. 

You looked around, so stiff and sore, but recognized the room you were in. His bedroom. A familiar place - that was good. You didn’t really remember much after you stumbled your way back into Jackson. Slowly and hesitantly shifting, you managed to make it on your side and readjusted yourself. 

The source of the sound soon became apparent. Joel Miller. He was sitting, sleeping rather, in a stiff and uncomfortable looking chair at your bedside, his head slumped to the side. That was going to be painful later. 

“Joel,” your voice was scratchy and your throat felt dryer than the desert. You reached out a weak, shaky hand and set it on his thigh. You attempted to give him a gentle shake in order to get him to wake up. Maybe it was selfish and you should have let him sleep but you also really, really just wanted to see him. Plus, you wanted to prevent a crick in his neck while you were at it. Two birds, one stone. He didn’t move at first…the poor thing must have been exhausted. You doubted he’d been sleeping since you were back, “Joel.”

But still, he didn’t stir and you decided not to push him. You felt pretty weak as well so you just closed your eyes and decided to get some more rest too. It wasn’t like you were at liberty to be going much right now. What you did do, however, was take his hand and lace your fingers through his, refusing to be completely separated from him. 

You needed him just as much as he needed you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel knew he was going to have a sore neck even before he opened his eyes. He would have been better off sleeping on the floor but he'd fallen asleep on the chair. Typical.

But wait - something was different. His eyes snapped open and he looked down at his hand and saw that it was tangled up with yours. He didn't remember holding your hand…he knew he hadn't been. That meant -

"Baby," you were sleeping again, mouth open as you snorted softly. But you were facing him, much closer, and you'd reached for him. There was a prickling at the back of his eyes and a breath of relief escaped his lips. He wanted to wake you up but he didn't have it in his heart to. You needed rest and he was going to let you have it, "such a stubborn thing, aren't you?"

You didn't respond but he was almost positive that he felt you squeeze his hand.

The next time you woke up you felt warm, but this time it was a pleasant sensation. You cracked an eye open and saw light streaming in through the window, the soft tittering of birds outside. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You tried to sit up, slowly, but it still wasn't an easy feat. You groaned the entire time but eventually you made it. 

Reaching up, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and pushed some of your messy hair out of your face. The blanket you were in was soft, and you remembered that you were in Joel's room. You were in his bed!

You heard footsteps coming from down the hall and grew nervous for whatever reason when the door opened. Joel stepped into the room and his eyes immediately went to your figure, as they had become accustomed to. 

Only this time, you weren't sleeping. You were awake and looking at him with bleary eyes and a soft smile.

"Hi," your voice sounded so small and unsure that it made him want to cry. He came to your side, and despite the fact that he wanted to pull you into a tight hug, he dropped to his knees at your side and reached for your hand.

"Hi," his voice was thick with emotion, shaky and unsure as his eyes grew glossy, "you're awake."

"I'm awake," you confirmed almost as if you wanted to make sure he knew he wasn't dreaming, "you've been here. I-I woke up earlier, the other day, I don't know what day or time it honestly, and you were sitting there. In that chair."

“I was,” he nodded, a soft smile gracing his features, “I thought you’d woken up.”

“I tried to wake you up,” you leaned back against the headboard, “did you end up with a crick in your neck?”

“Of course,” he rubbed at his neck absentmindedly, “I, ugh…I’m glad you’re alright. I don’t know what…”

“Yeah,” you didn’t need him to say it - you knew exactly what he was trying to say, “thank you.”

“For what?” there was a small hint of blush that crept into his cheeks.

“For taking care of me,” you reached for his hand and happily took it into yours, “I don’t remember much, but I do remember you being there. So, don’t be bashful, I know it was you.”

“It wasn’t all me,” but he also hadn’t left your side in days, barely more than an hour or so at a time, and even those times were few and far in between, “Maria helped a lot, and Ellie.”

“I know,” after a moment of hesitation, you reached up and stroked his cheek, and the man practically preened into your touch, “but still. You’re a stubborn man. Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” he took your hand and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, which caused your entire face to flush with warmth. 

“What happened?” your voice almost dropped to a whisper as though you weren’t quite sure you wanted to know, “to me? I-I don’t remember a lot.”

And then he laughed; that sweet, deep sound that you loved so much. It wasn’t that he was laughing at you or all that you had just been through, it was just…the situation. The fact that you’d been so unwell, almost on death’s doorstep, and here you were, sweet as ever, “oh sweetheart…you went through a lot.”

“I remember getting back but that’s about it,” you admitted sheepishly, “I do remember pain…how long has it been?”

“You came back about a week ago,” your mouth opened in surprise - there was no way. It couldn’t have been more than two or three days. He nodded, answering your silent question, “yeah, it was bad.”

“I-I got back and…I was hurt.”

“You came back, barely on your feet,” his gaze shifted to the clean bandage still spreading across your abdomen, “you looked…terrible.”

“What a lovely thing to hear,” you teased, knowing that he was joking.

“I just meant…the wounds. Not a-anything else, but you look…”

“Like shit,” you cut him off. You felt grimy and sweaty and gross; you were positive you were stinking and your hair was a disaster. You doubted you looked any better than you felt, “I’m sure. You don’t have to lie to me, Joel.”

“You’re beautiful,” it was the first time he had said it out loud, but it was something that had always been on his mind, “but yeah…right now you do look like you could use a bath.”

“I love an honest man,” you grinned, “you saved me.”

“I-I didn’t…no,” bashful, shy, and adorable. Although he’d never admit he was adorable.

“You did,” you insisted, pointing at your covered wound, “I imagine whatever this was, it wasn’t good.”

“No,” his brow furrowed and he shook his head lightly, “it wasn’t. There was a deep wound, and had gotten infected. The infection was starting to spread and…yeah. You came back just in time. I don’t know how you made it back but…fuck, I’m glad you did.”

“Me too,” shy smiles were exchanged, “I vaguely remember getting hurt and knowing I had to get back. And I just came back, I knew I had to get back. I wanted to get home to you.”

“Yeah?” his voice shook but you nodded, trying to be strong, “I shouldn’t have let you go. Especially not alone. I should have been there, I could have…done something.”

“Don’t think of it like that,” you put a finger to his lips to cut him off before he could continue to ramble, “thinking of all the could haves and would haves only works to drive us crazy. It doesn’t matter what happened, not anymore. What matters is that I’m here now.”

“But-”

“But nothing,” he couldn’t help the small smile that turned up the corners of his mouth at your sharpness, “I’m here and I’m okay. We’re okay. Wait…I’m okay, right? I guess I should have asked that first and not just assumed.”

“You’re going to be okay,” he promised, thanking every lucky star and divine being or whatever existed in the universe, “most of the wounds on your arms and face are superficial; I think you probably got them when you were coming back through the woods. The main one was…rough. Do you remember what happened at all?”

“My weakness,” you joked softly, “small knives.”

“That was no small knife,” he shook his head as you shrugged.

“No,” you reluctantly agreed, “it wasn’t. But me telling you what it was isn’t going to change anything so…no need to worry.”

“I’m going to worry anyway.”

“You shouldn’t worry.”

“I’m going to worry about the people I love.”

“Oh,” oh. Joel had, once again, spoken before he truly thought about what he was going to say. It wasn’t that he didn’t mean it….he just hadn’t meant to tell you like this. He wasn’t sure exactly what his plan had been, but that was neither here nor there at this point, “oh?”

“Listen, I didn’t mean to make this-”

“I love you, Joel,” you met his eye, refusing to look away so he knew that you had meant what you said, “really.”

“Oh,” this time it was his turn to be surprised. You nodded; his relief was visibly when you saw how his shoulders relaxed, “I didn’t exactly plan this.”

“Me neither,” you gestured to yourself, “any of this.”

“It’s not going to hurt for a while,” he swallowed thickly as you exhaled slowly. You figured as much; if you’d been out for almost a week you knew that it wasn’t going to go immediately go away, “I…I would like it if you stayed here. So I could help you.”

“You mean keep an eye on me so I don’t go and cause more trouble?” you teased, “I’d like that, Joel. As long as you and Ellie are okay with it. But I can take the couch so you can have your bed-”

“Absolutely not,” as if. He’d rather cut off his own leg than to let you sleep on the damned couch, “you’ll stay here, in this bed.”

“This is the first time I’ve heard that in this sort of situation,” you snorted in amusement, “but thank you, Joel. Really.”

“It’s nothing,” it was everything, “I’ll change the sheets and you can have a shower - bath maybe, that might be better. Or maybe shower?”

“I can try a shower and if it doesn’t work, we’ll figure it out,” you felt so warm and fuzzy at the idea of him taking care of you, “maybe I’ll make you give me a sponge bath!”

“I would do it.” Of course he would. He’d do anything for you.

“I know,” you leaned over, slowly and gingerly, and pressed the most delicate of kisses to his cheek, “I know.”

“I’m going to assume you’re hungry?” you perked up at the sound of food. When was the last time you had a meal? You couldn’t remember…and your stomach grumbled loudly, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Yes, please,” you grinned, “what’s on the menu?”

“Fresh baked bread and soup,” your mouth almost watered in excitement, “the kid’s been on a cooking phase, so whether or not it’s good will have to be seen.”

“I’m so hungry, I could honestly eat anything,” you really could, “but thank you. Seriously…I hope that you know how much very much I…appreciate you. How very much I…I love you.”

“It’s not work, it’s not a bother,” he insisted, “not when it’s you. I…”

“You don’t have to say it,” you knew that it wasn’t always for him to be open with feelings and words. But he always showed his love in so many other ways, “if you don’t want to or…yeah.”

“I love you,” he’d stood up but he leaned down and kissed the crown of your head, not caring in the slightest about any mess, “I’m not perfect, far from it, but I’m working on it.”

“You think I’m perfect?” he really liked your laugh, “far from it. I’m working on it too. We can work on it together.”

“Yes,” and you really liked his smile, “together.”

“Together.”

[dancingtotuyo]

9. the fear of what's to come

Woman | Joel Miller x Female Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: You and Joel navigate life changing news.

Tags: Joel Miller X Female Reader. Age Gap (13/14 years). HBO Characters. Mostly cannon compliant for show & game. Timeline is changed.

Chapter Warnings: pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, mentions of potential pregnancy complications including but not limited to miscarriage and stillbirth, single reference to a fetus being a child (not intended in a pro life way), angst, grief, complicated feelings surrounding pregnancy.

Notes: A huge thanks to my amazing beta readers and friends @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin & @janaispunk

If you have not checked out Before, I would encourage you to do so for more backstory on our dear reader!

Words: 3088

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Playlist

You know three weeks after your missed period what is happening. It’s not hard to figure out. It’s just like last time. Menopause crosses your mind briefly, but the symptoms don’t line up. You’re sensitive to the same foods, nausea rolls in and out like the ocean tides throughout the day. The insatiable craving for a tomato sandwich cements it two days later. Tears run down your cheeks as you quickly finish off the sandwich and prepare another. 

You don’t get excited. You don’t make plans, and most importantly, you don’t tell Joel. You’re 45. Joel is in his late 50s. You know the statistics, the pre-end-of-the-world ones. You can’t imagine they’ve improved. 

Instead, you just hope that when it happens, nothing goes wrong. There’s no DNC, no pills to make sure everything passes properly or ensure no infection sets in. You’ve aided many women through this, many much younger than yourself. Some make it just fine, others have complications with nothing but prayer, poultices, and 20-year-old antibiotics to help. You’re not sure what actually does it when the women make it through. Some of them you've buried. Their faces flicker through your mind. You cannot be one of them. You cannot leave Carter without either of his parents in this world.  

You tell Maria. You tell her everything she needs to know. What to do step by step when it happens. Since Adam’s injury, Dr. Pooley refuses to practice anything more than simple first aid. You’re both certain it’s dementia. You spend most mornings listening to him talk through different lectures he attended. On the mornings his brain won’t cooperate, you sip tea together. He’s writing down what he remembers, but you have to fact-check it. He’s already taught you most of it anyway. 

“You have to tell Joel,” Maria says when you tell her. 

You refuse. You won’t do it. You won’t bring him into this. You have this silent agreement that you’re partners in this world, but he still lives in the house across the street with Ellie. There’s never been discussions about moving in together or anything past that. You don’t call him your boyfriend. He doesn’t call you his girlfriend. Making those commitments, those plans, it will hurt too much when the world takes him away. 

Carter calls him “Daddy.” It makes Joel smile every time. He’s accepted that commitment. It makes you smile too, but there’s still a little ache in your heart each time. Carter knows about Gabe. You tell him stories all the time. If you ask him, he says he has two daddies. One here and one in heaven. 

But you won’t tell Joel about this child. He’s lost one. He doesn’t need to lose another. 

Maria fights you on it. She looks at her son pointing out that she was 2 years older than you are now when he was born healthy. You don’t remind her she almost died, but she sees it in your eyes. You still have nightmares about that night.

You’re firm. You’re not going to tell Joel. Neither will she, and she damn sure won’t tell Tommy either. 

You wait for the cramps and the blood, but they never come. You hit the 3-month mark, your 2nd trimester at the beginning of October. You don’t cry in the bathroom. You square your shoulders. Second-trimester miscarriages happen. Stillbirths happen, but hope gathers in the depths of your soul, growing with each day. You push it away with logic and reasoning. 

Two sides of you war against each other. You can’t bring another life into this world. At one point you were okay with it. You felt safe here, and while you still do, it doesn’t feel okay anymore. The world still digs its ugly claws into this community. Yet, the hopes you used to hold in your mind, the ones you had with Gabe, and the ones you had before the outbreak still linger. In a perfect, uncomplicated world, this is what you would choose. 

You hide the sickness from Joel with relative ease. He’s often awake and out of bed before you for patrol shifts, early morning chores, or waking up with Carter so you can sleep in.

You deliver the Crosby twins a week later without complications. Melissa is only a couple of years younger than you, but at your age, you know how crucial those few years are. When you finally reach your front porch, you sit in the darkness of Wyoming and finally let the tears fall because fate seems to be telling you that this is happening, or just sending you another person to lose. The realization hits you like a freight train. Time is up. You have to tell Joel. 

You crack open the door to Carter’s bedroom. He’s sound asleep and it relieves you to know he's here. You’re less on edge when he’s close, and It means Joel picked him up from Maria and Tommy’s. It means Joel is in your bed.

Sure enough, he’s there when you creep in. He sleeps on his side curled up over your pillow. You roll your eyes. Yes, it's endearing, but it’s also a pain in the ass to get your pillow back.

The bathroom light is blinding at first, but your eyes slowly adjust as you turn on the shower and steam fills the space. Goosebumps spread across your skin as you undress, catching sight of yourself in the mirror. You’ve noticed the subtle changes in your body over these past couple of months, but they’re becoming more noticeable. Your breasts have grown, they’re so sensitive, and your sports bra pulls at the seams. Joel commented on it last week. You joked you were packing on extra weight for winter acting like it was nothing. 

Your favorite pair of jeans no longer fit. You’ve mostly stuck to leggings since. You’re starting to clock the subtle changes in your body. They’re happening faster than with your last pregnancy. The past week, you’ve shut Joel down sexually, scared he would catch on despite your sex drive skyrocketing. It’s been difficult. 

The shower washes away everything: the sweat and grime of the day, your tears, the tension in your muscles. You stand under the water until it runs cold, slipping on Joel’s worn soft t-shirt.

Your pillow is back on your side of the bed, Joel still on his side. A smile creeps onto your face. He keeps his eyes closed, but you know he’s awake. You don’t say anything as you slide into bed, but your anxiety spikes, your heart fluttering in your chest. You have to tell him. 

You’re staring at the ceiling when he breaks the silence. “What happened?” 

You suck in a breath. He thinks something went wrong tonight. He’s probably preparing to dig a grave. “Nothing, mom and babies are fine.”

“So it was twins?” 

“Yeah.” You had suspected as much, but the ultrasound machine doesn’t work, try as you might to get it operational. You hadn’t been able to find a second heartbeat with the Doppler. 

“So what’s buggin you?” His drawl is deeper, soaked with sleep. 

He scoots a little closer, hot breath tickling your ear. You can’t move. You should look him in the eye when you tell him, but you can’t. The words are at the back of your throat surging forward toward your lips. The anxiety in your chest feels like a herd of buffalo stomping across the countryside. You squeeze your eyes shut to try and stop it.

“Sweetheart?” His hand reaches toward you, eyes trained on your profile as concern laces his brow. 

“I’m pregnant.” 

His hand stops over your arm. You feel its warmth so close, and then it goes away. You dare to look at him. You expect him to get out of bed and bolt. You don’t know why. He’s only shown you otherwise the entirety of your relationship, but this is more than either of you signed up for. Instead, you watch as it sinks in. He connects the dots, all the symptoms and signs that were right in front of his face, his subconscious absorbing them, but refusing to put it all together. 

“I’m sorry,” you say.

You look back toward the ceiling, tears slipping from your eyes. 

His hand covers your abdomen, forehead pressing against your temple. He starts to feel the changes to your body for what they are. You shudder. 

“How long have you known?”

There’s not a trace of judgment or fear in his voice, but it does little to assure you. You’re scared. It doesn’t matter what Joel says or does, the fear is overwhelming. 

“Beginning of August.”

“Shit, baby.” He pulls you into him, cradling your head against his chest. “You didn’t have to carry this alone.”

“I didn’t think it would last.” After months of holding the tears back, you finally let them out, a mix of relief and fear. “I didn’t- I didn’t want you to-” 

You can’t finish it. You can’t say it out loud, but Joel knows what you’re trying to say. You didn’t want him to lose another child, and it wrecks him. His grip on you is crushing, but it soothes your shaking frame. Just as you come down, his sobs greet your ear because he’s scared too. Every single fear and anxiety that has come over you the past months, he feels too. Maria’s labor and delivery flash through his mind. If that happens to you, who’s going to save you? 

You reach up to cradle his face. He presses into your neck. Your skin is sticky and salty again, but you don’t even think about it as the man you love and can’t tell cries in your arms. You’re unable to return his soothing squeeze, but you lay there to provide any comfort you can. The two of you fall asleep tangled in each other. 

You feel Joel’s fingers dancing across your abdomen before you’re fully conscious. There’s no rhyme or reason to his movements. His other hand brushes over your temple and through your hair. Every once in a while you feel his breath and lips across your neck, up and down your arm, over your collarbone. It feels like he’s memorizing you, fear present in all of his movements even now. 

You finally open your eyes. His movements still as you look at him. There are tears in his eyes as his head falls forward, resting against yours. “I’m scared.”

“Me too.” You reach out, nails raking across his arm. 

He shudders under your touch. “I wish you told me sooner.” 

You bit your lips. “I’m sorry.” 

He lets out a deep sigh, kissing your forehead. His hand drifts to your abdomen again. You watch his eyes, so expressive filled with fear and anxiety and maybe a little bit of awe and guilt?

“I should’ve been more careful.”

You press your head to his, inhaling softly. “We.”

Joel’s fingers scrape along your jaw, his beard rough against your chin. “I like being a we.”

“Me too.”

Silence settles between the two of you. The wind knocks against the window, but it’s warm next to Joel. His arm snakes around you, tugging you closer to him. 

“I suppose you’ve told Maria?”

You can’t hide the guilty smile on your lips. “If it makes a difference, she told me I needed to tell you right away. Pretty sure she was gonna tell you herself if I didn’t do it soon.” You mess with the collar of his shirt. 

“How long do we have?”

“Figure it’ll be May. If we get that far.” You say. Joel nods and something clenches around your heart, a need to protect him, warn him of the danger. “You know there’s a lot of risks. No guarantee…” 

“One day at a time.” He kisses your cheek but you see all the fear he’s pushing away plastered to his face like a movie poster. 

Joel asks you how you are, but other than that, you don’t talk about it. You feel like a weight has lifted off your shoulders but there’s an anvil hanging above your head, waiting to drop at a moment’s notice. 

You’ve outgrown your last pair of jeans. When you manage to trade with someone, they give you a look, like they know what’s going on inside your body. 

You take more naps, sometimes at the clinic, sometimes on the couch. You’re constantly tired. Maria brings dinner to the house every few days. She never asked, but you don’t complain. 

One evening you open your eyes to find Ellie staring down at you, worry etched in her features. It startles you at first. 

“You’ve been sleeping a lot lately,” She says. 

“You’ve noticed?” You pull yourself into a seated position. It feels like someone shoved a bunch of cotton into your mouth. You reach for the now room-temperature water on your end table. 

“You only take naps when you’re sick or depressed.” You raise an eyebrow at her. She crosses her arms as if to say she knows you’re neither right now. “What’s going on?”

You finish off the water. Despite its temperature, it helps. “I’m fine.” You reach out, placing a hand on her shoulder, but it does nothing. At 17 years old, Ellie is turning into a woman before your very eyes. At times, you’re convinced any semblance of childhood has been replaced with adulthood, but there are other times you still see the slivers of the girl you met two and a half years ago. Right now, she’s the one sitting in front of you.  

“Bullshit. What’s going on? You and Joel have been acting weird.”

Had things really been that different in the past couple of weeks? You open your mouth to speak, unsure of what to say. You and Joel hadn’t talked about telling anyone, which seemed silly. You can’t hide this forever. 

The door opens and Carter bursts in with Joel on his heels. A smile instantly finds your lips. 

“Mommy! Look!” He holds up a package of seemingly new Crayola crayons. 

Your eyes widen with exaggeration. “Wow, buddy. That’s awesome.”

“John Lacy found a bunch of them on patrol. They handed them out today,” Joel smiles. “Grabbed you some colored pencils.” He hands a set of non-crayola pencils to Ellie.

“Thanks.” She smiles but is still distracted by her worry over you. 

Carter crawls up beside you, eagerly pulling out the surprisingly intact crayons one by one. Joel leans over to kiss your cheek and tousles Ellie’s hair. She makes a face of displeasure but doesn’t fight him on it.

“You two look like you were talkin about somethin serious.”

“I was trying to figure out why the two of you have been acting weird,” Ellie says. 

Joel’s drops to unreadable. He looks at you and you shrug in response. “We have to tell them eventually.”

Worry makes its home on Ellie’s face. “So something is wrong with you.with you.”

“Nothing is wrong with me.” You sigh deeply. You run your fingers over Carter’s head, kissing it. 

“You’re sure acting like there is,” She says impatiently.

“Ellie,” Joel reprimands, traces of his asshole voice laced into it. 

Ellie bites her lip. It looks like she might be fighting off tears as she looks directly at you. “I’m worried about you.”

You force a smile, leaning forward. Your forearms rest on your knees. One would think it would get easier to say each time. Instead, it’s like picking at a scab that’s not healed. You’re forcing yourself to say something, your brain isn’t ready to accept. “I’m pregnant.”

Ellie sits up straighter, her eyes widen with shock. “Oh wow…”

You wonder if the pictures fill her mind too. She saw Maria the night Elias was born. She saw the blood that covered you. Joel’s fingers brush over your shoulder, squeezing it lightly before they run over the back of your neck. You lean against him. “I’m sorry we worried you. We’re still getting used to the idea,” You say. 

She nods and then her arms around your neck. She basically knocks you backward with the force of it. “I’m glad you’re not dying.”

You squeeze her tightly, a faint lilt of humor in your voice. “Me too.”

Then her voice drops to a whisper right at your ear. “You’ll be okay. I know you will.”  

Your head rests on Joel’s bare chest that night. The full moon sends light drifting through your window, casting the room in a cool glow. You play absentmindedly with the hair on his chest. His heart beats under your ear. The room is otherwise silent. 

“I told Tommy today.” 

You nod. 

“He wanted to know why I was so quiet. Told him I was always quiet.”

That pulls a smile across your lips. “Surprised he shut up long enough to notice.”

Joel chuckles. His arm around you tightens. His lips find your forehead. “I know we’re not ready to think too much about it.”

“Don’t think it’s something we can really ignore.” You nuzzle further into him. 

“Baby steps.” He kisses your nose this time.

You quirk an eyebrow. “Baby steps? Really?” You flip onto your stomach while you still can.

He chuckles. “Poor word choice.”

You kiss his bicep and then his shoulder. He looks at you like your entire world and your stomach erupts in butterflies and twists in knots all at the same time. You still won’t let him say it, but you feel it every time he looks at you like that. 

You rest your chin on his shoulder. “What are these steps you had in mind?”

His thumb traces over your jaw and cheek. “Don’t bolt on me, okay?”

“I think it’s a little late for that.”

He chuckles and then inhales deeply. “I think we should probably share a house. I figured you’d prefer to stay here, but it’s up to you.” He searches your eyes for any signs of panic or signs that you might shut down but finds nothing. In fact, you’re so calm that it’s hard to read. 

“It would be nice to have you officially living here,” you say. It feels right to say, to think about. “And Ellie if she wants.” 

“That was easier than I’d thought it would be.”

“You pretty much live here as is.” You turn on your side, nuzzling back into him. “I’ll miss your fireplace though.”

Joel smiles. “Guess I'll just have to keep you warm instead.” 

[syoish-aot]

"I Found You (too)" - EREN/READER - REINCARNATION AU (chapter 2)

eren/reader

reincarnation & memory loss

rating: T

word count: 2378

<- CH 1 | CH 3 ->

There’s a weight against your chest when you wake up.

A solid weight.

It’s warm. Soft. And it lifts, just slightly, before something tickles your nose.

“Mrr…”

As you blink awake, two wide yellow eyes with pupils in straight slits stare at you.

The cat, with brown striped fur and a single canine sticking out from between its lips, moves forward to nuzzle its face against your cheek.

When you don’t react, it yawns, stretches, and then crawls off your chest before hobbling on three legs to the end of the bed. It sits down, looks back at you, and then hops off the bed with another “mrr” as if to say: “It’s time to get up.”

You blink away the sleep in your eyes as you sit up and glance around the room.

When you’d fallen asleep last night the room had been unfamiliar. 

And now, as you’re waking up, it’s the exact same. 

It’s unfamiliar. 

But there are photographs of you and Mr. Kruger on the walls. A shelf full of books that look very well-read. A pile of laundry. And a warmth that surrounds you, immediately making you feel calm.

This place is home.

Even if Mr. Kruger hadn’t told you that last night, you felt like you’d still know.

Without needing to be told, you’d just know that this place was home.

A small home. No war, pain, or death. A warm bed. A cat and the smell of good food wafting from down the hall.

It won’t last long- this beautiful dream, because the beautiful dreams never last long. So you make up your mind that you’re going to cherish it. Every moment of this dream you’re going to cherish.

The cat sticks its head back into the room:

“Meeeooowwwwwwww…”

The dream is too nice to let it go to waste.

“Good morning, Mr. Kruger!” The sound of your cheery voice pulls Eren out of his sleep. He grumbles as he squeezes his eyes shut, pulling the crisp white hospital sheets over his head.

You laugh in response and he hates it so damn much.

Your dumb laugh.

Your stupid smile.

The way you always greet him with a ‘Good morning, Mr. Kruger’ as you pull open his window and say:

“It’s a beautiful day out!”

Yeah. That. 

Fucking hell it’s awful.

And yet he still lowers the sheets and, with a groan, he sits up. 

His head is pounding, it always is, and he takes in a deep breath as he forces the pain to continue.

…don’t heal, don’t heal, don’t heal…

It’s been his mantra for two weeks.

His missing leg is an annoyance, but his missing eye is a pain. He constantly has a headache as his body begs him to let it grow back. To fix itself. To regenerate and return him to his full potential. But he can’t do it yet. He has to wait for the perfect opportunity and lay low until then.

So, the headache.

And because of the headache, pretty much the only good thing you bring him:

“Here,” you say with that same cheery smile as you hand him a paper cup holding three pills.

Blue, antibiotics.

Chalk white, a multivitamin.

And of course, red, for the pain.

Did he have his suspicions that that wasn’t all those pills were for? Sure.

Was he about to compromise his position by questioning it? No.

He’d play the part of the good little traumatized soldier as he waited for Zeke to contact him. Then things would really get going and he’d kill every last Marleyan in sight. 

“Can you hold your arm out for me?” You ask, jotting something down on your clipboard as your words ooze with fake kindness.

Eren fucking hates it.

He knows what you really think of him. What all Marleyans think of anyone that had the misfortune of being born Eldian.

You think he’s a devil.

And you’re right, he supposes. He is a devil. Which is exactly why, as he holds out his arm so you can measure his blood pressure, he fantasizes about the day he can burn this hospital to the ground with you and every other person that’s been poking and prodding him for the last two weeks trapped within it. 

“There you go again,” you say with a lighthearted laugh, “slipping off into one of your daydreams. Where are you always slipping off to, Mr. Kruger?”

He normally doesn’t reply to you because there’s no point.

He prefers your days off when one of the more quiet nurses has this job.

Despite it, for some reason, he answers you. With a short sigh, he says:

“Somewhere nice.”

You remove the rubber strap from his arm and go back to your clipboard. “I know what you mean,” you tell him with a soft smile. “I like to go somewhere nice too.”

Eren has a feeling these two nice places are very, very different.

“You take a suspiciously long time with Mr. Kruger every morning,” Myra tells you as the two of you walk down the hall on the way to the break room.

“I- I do not!”

“Yeah, okay.” She rolls her eyes as your cheeks flush pink.

“I’m just being thorough. Unlike you I take pride in my work.”

Her loud laugh bounces off of the bleak walls. “Did you know that you always get feisty when you’re being defensive? All you’re doing is proving my point~”

“Well, sometimes he can be- difficult. Everyone knows that.” You say, not wanting to argue with her and further “prove her point”. 

“Yeah,” she scoffs, “not with you though.”

You roll your eyes.

“Maybe he’s got a crush on you or something.”

Immediately you stop walking.

“What?” Myra asks.

“That’s- I-... don’t joke about that. Someone might hear you.”

Myra scoffs. “Who gives a shit.” She dismisses with a casual wave of her hand. “That kinda thing happens all the time.”

She’s right, of course. Plenty of the soldiers at the hospital have indicated that they’ve developed-... something for those caring for them. It was natural, you supposed, given the trauma they’d experienced in battle. A terrible experience like that followed by someone treating your injuries, regardless of how cruel they may be while they do it, would seep into someone’s mind and turn into-...

Whatever it turns into. 

It’s a mess, regardless. A mess that you would never let yourself fall into.

“It doesn’t matter if it happens all the time.” You mutter as you storm past Myra, “I could still get in trouble.”

She rolls her eyes again as she catches up with you. “Only if you do something about it.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Good.” She says simply. “And not just because he’s your patient. You know what happens to people that get tangled up with Eldians.”

The way she says it makes your breath catch. 

The reminder always does and why wouldn’t it?

You do know. You know exactly what happens with people who get “tangled up” with Eldians because you’ve seen it first hand and you’ll never forget it.

No matter how much you wish you could, you'll never forget the way your brother’s body hung limp against the fence outside the internment zone. The way he was left there, for days, to rot against the wall. The way the birds picked at the skin of his face, his fingers, tearing away bits of flesh to the point that his body was turned into something else entirely.

You’ll never forget the words ‘ELDIAN LOVER’ painted in deep crimson against the brick wall behind him.

“You have to make something of yourself.” Your mother had told you that night as she sobbed for her loss. Not the loss of her son, but for the loss of your family’s reputation. “Make something of yourself that we can be proud of,” she cried, “make them forget about him… you owe it to your family…”

Flesh. Rope. Red spray paint.

Your stomach turns at the memory. 

And suddenly, you’re no longer interested in your lunch.

It traps you in a daze for the rest of the day.

It always does.

The reminder of why you worked so hard to get this job, why you slave away working extra hours and rarely ever taking a day off unless it’s absolutely necessary. You had to work hard for your family. For their reputation. So you could undo the sins of your brother and make up for what he’d done.

It exhausts you.

Your life here exhausts you.

You’re supposed to hate your older brother, you know you are because he betrayed you. He betrayed your whole family and put them in danger for his own selfishness. 

It would have been easy for your whole family to be executed for what he’d done, even though none of you had any idea it was happening. You could have been seen as accomplices and punished as such. The only reason you were still alive was because your family had been fortunate enough to pay for your lives. And your lives were a hefty payment.

You’d grown up in a large house in the countryside with pretty dresses and expensive toys. Servants who did whatever you wanted and enough money that you’d never know what it felt like to go to bed hungry.

Your father had been a banker.

Had.

Because after your brother’s affair with an Eldian maid was found out, your family lost it all.

So, you should have been mad at him. You should have been livid. You should have hated him and spent the rest of your life cursing his existence for what it’d brought you.

But you didn’t.

Despite where your life was after all of it. Despite the pressure that was suddenly put on your shoulders. Despite every moment of agony after it. You couldn’t be mad at your brother.

Because…

…your brother had been in love.

“I’m leaving soon.” He told you, the night before he was found out. The night before he was hung on that wall and left to rot.

But neither of you knew that would be his fate. So you just scowled as you clutched your doll tightly to your chest, watching as he darted around the room and packed his things.

“Father said you don’t start university for three more years.” You pointed out.

“I don’t.” He laughed. “But I’m not going to university.”

“You aren’t?”

“No.” He stopped in front of you and knelt down so he could look you in the eye. “Can you keep a secret?”

You nodded.

“Promise?”

You nodded harder.

He chuckled softly before he pulled a ring out of his pocket. “I’m getting married.”

You gasped. “To who?”

He got a far-off look in his eyes as the smile on his face turned to something else. Something softer. As if he was suddenly swept up in a daydream that took him somewhere completely new. “I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Because I-...” He sighed as he slid the ring into his pocket. “Look,” the wishful expression he had been wearing slipped away as his gaze hardened. “Sometimes adults are wrong.”

“No, they’re not.”

“Yes.” He said pointedly. “They are.”

You stayed quiet.

“Sometimes they’re wrong and the reason they’re wrong is that they’ve never taken a moment to think about what they’ve been taught. I’m going away soon, but don’t ever forget that, okay? Don’t you ever forget to think for yourself when someone tells you something, no matter who they are or how much confidence they have when they say it.”

You scowled. “What does any of that have to do with you getting married?”

He laughed as the smile returned to his face. “It has everything to do with it.” He patted your head and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead before he went back to packing. 

As he packed he told you about the life he was leaving to create for himself and his special person.

A small home, just big enough for two. Far away from war and pain and death. Somewhere they could be happy. A warm bed. Homemade food. Maybe even a cat, if they found one that was nice enough to keep.

“You should have more than one!” You told him as he described the kitten he would find in this made-up fantasy, tucked under a rose bush in a rainstorm. 

“I should, shouldn’t I! How many cats should I have?”

“Four!!” You exclaimed with a giggle.

“Four!?!” He said in mock surprise, which had you laughing all over again.

It was a beautiful dream. A fantasy. 

But that’s all it would ever be because nice places like that, no matter how desperately you wished they could, didn’t exist.

Still. It’s where you always found yourself, when you stared for a little too long out the window, when you walked home after a hard day, or when you struggled to fall asleep at night.

That small house in a faraway world without war. Without pain. Without even death.

It was warm. 

And it was where you found yourself. 

You push open the door to Mr. Kruger’s room with his evening medicine. You’re smiling as you carry it to him. Smiling at the world you’ve created in your head. A special escape, just for you.

“You’re late.” Mr. Kruger tells you as he closes his book.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “Sorry, I had to go somewhere.”

“Hm.” He hums. “Where?” You don’t know if he actually cares. Maybe he’s just in one of his rare moods where he wants to make brief conversation.

You pass him a paper cup full of pills and the tips of your fingers brush against his. Just the tips. 

It sends a rush of warmth up your arm.

You watch as the paper cup meets his lips and he tilts his head back.

A small home. No war, pain, or death. A warm bed. Good food. Cats.

You slip away just long enough for him to finish swallowing his pills and when he lowers the cup, you finally answer him:

“...I went somewhere nice…”

It’s a shame, really. 

A shame that you’ll only ever be able to visit such a nice place in your dreams…

like this post to be added to the tag list for new parts

[miley1442111]

burnt- s.adamu

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two different sydney requests:

i got so excited seeing syd in the new trailer for the bear s3 😭 need something with reader x sydney bc i can’t wait until june 27!! anything you can think of possibly based on some stuff hinted in the trailer would be great :) thank you so much!!

requesting sydney x reader! feel like it’s been so long since ive seen any content with her, especially because we were robbed of even a glimpse of her in that new teaser they released the other day 😭

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a/n: i hope you both enjoy! thank you for requesting!

summary: your girlfriend doesn't take it too well when she finds out you kept your injury from her.

pairing: sydney adamu x fem! berzatto! reader

warnings: reader gets hurt, burned hand, i think that's it?

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Baste, pour, flip, repeat. Baste, pour, flip, repeat. Baste, pour, flip, repeat. God, did Carmen need to yell so loud? 

You looked up for a split second, not even- just a fraction of a half-second, and you felt the burn of the boiling duck fat begin to sear your skin. It bubbled the skin on your left hand, leaving it exposed to the heat of the room and making it so much worse.  

“Fuck!” you shouted, pulling your hand away from the hot stove and turning it off. You held your hand close to your chest with a pain expression as all eyes handed on you. 

“W-what, what happened?” Carmen asked, running over. 

“Fuck you,” you said through gritted teeth. “Why do you fucking shout so loud?” You asked your brother. He rolled his eyes and pulled you to the other side of the kitchen and looked down at your hand. 

“Oh fuck,” Richie mumbled, joining the huddle you and Carm had made. “You’re going to have to go to the emergency room for that one.”

“No fucking shit jagoff,” you seethed. “I’ll grab my shit and drive myself. Get back to service Carm.”

He stared at you for a second. “You sure?”

“I’m fine,” you nodded and he obliged, pressing a quick kiss to your temple like he used to when you were kids. 

---------------------------

The drive to the ER was agony. Every movement of your hand was like a thousand needles being pushed into the skin and the ice pack Carm had given you wasn’t helping.  

You debated calling Syd, but this was her one night off to spend with her dad. You didn’t want to bother her, and you sure as hell didn’t want her to wait with you in the packed ER for the next 3 hours. You decided to just stare at your phone screen and scroll instagram until you were called in. 

Ring, ring, ring. 

Sydney’s contact jumped up on the screen and your senses were immediately heightened. Had Carm told her? How did she know? Maybe she didn’t know… maybe she was just calling to say that she was going to stay with her dad for the night and that she wouldn’t be home, you didn’t know.

“You got burnt?!” she questioned, concern filling her voice. 

“Who told you that?” you asked. 

“Who do you think? Carm! Why wasn’t it you who told me?” 

“You’re supposed to be with your dad tonight, I didn’t want to be a bother,” you shrugged, hearing your name being called. “Anyways, I have to go I’m being called in, love you-”

“We need to talk about this-” 

Beep beep beep. 

You hung up. 

---------------------------

After a painful 30 minute talk with a doctor, she told you that you’d be fine in 4 weeks. She bandaged you up and gave you an antibiotic, in case it became infected. Waiting for you outside was Sydney, with a very mad look on her face. 

“You should’ve called me,” she sighed, taking your not-injured hand. 

“I didn’t want to ruin the one night you had off,” you shrugged, walking out to your car with her beside you. “Plus, it’s not like it’s the first or last time I’ve been burnt, right?”

“Was that supposed to be reassuring?”

“Maybe?” you chuckled. “Look, I’m fine! They bandaged me up and I have antibiotics in case it gets infected, plus I can hold this over Carmy’s head until either of us does something worse.”

“It might get infected?” she questioned and you rolled your eyes. 

“Only if I get lazy with changing the bandage,” you sassed back. 

“Oh, so you’ll get an infection then, great!” She sighed, getting into the driver’s seat. 

“Syd, stop being mean, I’ve been through enough tonight,” you deflated. “Let’s just go home.”

Sydney started the car, driving out of the hospital with your hand in hers.

“I’m sorry, I just worry sometimes…” she muttered. 

“It’s alright,” you nodded, then brought her hand up to your mouth, where you kissed it.

---------------------------

the bear masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games :)

[fairyhaos]

how seventeen take care of their sick s/o

requested by @cinnamoroxie : "agh i think ive been getting sick 😭 could u write svt w a sick reader / or just a reader w a sore throat and cant speak w out it hurting pls? love u hope youre doing well "

notes: i :(((( want :((( a joshua :((((

masterlist

seungcheol:

cancels all your plans for the rest of the day when you wake up in the morning barely able to speak. won't let you protest, saying that you need to prioritise your health okay bc these people you're meeting aren't as important to him as you are. if you've just got a sniffly nose n sore throat, he'll let you sleep on him but if you're coughing n sneezing everywhere then sorry, he loves you but maybe stay away from him for a few days? 

jeonghan:

will do everything for you. even tho he doesn't have the loudest voice, he'll try his hardest to yell over the other members to get them to quieten down so he can listen to your hoarse whispers n get you whatever you need <3 gives you so many cough drops that you constantly have one in your mouth the entire time. you can taste them still on your tongue for like a day after you feel better

joshua:

gives you head massages if you have a headache, makes you honey tea if your throat hurts, always has tissues on hand if your nose is running. The Best™ at looking after you. won't leave your side, even if you're spraying germs everywhere, and he has a cold that lasts for three weeks by the end of it, but you're happy and healthy n that's all that matters to him

junhui:

kind of a fluttery mess when you get sick, doesn't rlly know what to do. pats your head constantly, asking if you're okay, and swaddles you in blankets. also gives you so many painkillers and antibiotics bc he doesn't Know what else to do okay and please you sound so terrible n croaky pls take this medicine bc it's meant to make you better and he hates when you're ill :((

hoshi:

coos and baby talks to you when you're sick and a blocked nose mess. speaks in a whisper back to you if you have a sore throat and can barely speak, makes those canned soups for you and spoon feeds it to you. he's a messy feeder tho, n most of it gets around your mouth but he wipes it away vv gently afterwards. hoshi is probably so, so soft when taking care of someone when they're sick tbh &lt;3

wonwoo:

accompanies you everywhere you go. insists you lie down and sleep but if you don't, then he's hovering around you like a concerned mother to make sure you don't overdo it. tells everyone you meet that you have a sore throat and so you can't speak, and Will drag you away if you start coughing too hard, scolding you lightly and pulling a scarf out of nowhere to wrap around your neck

woozi:

wants to take time off working so bad to help take care of you but he rlly can't </3 sets medicine and a glass of water on the table for you to take in the morning, regularly calls you (or texts, if you can't speak) to see how you're doing. checks up on you at night, smiles and kisses you on the forehead if you wake up and blearily murmur his name. he's busy, but he'll still make time to be soft for you

minghao:

always has tissues. and hand sanitizer. and cough drops. and paracetamol. has literally everything, really. says well done and pats your head when you drain a whole glass of water while swallowing the medicine, bc drinking water and flushing out toxins is the best way to get rid of an illness. another person who baby talks you if you're all sick n pouty

mingyu:

makes soup. makes tea. forces both liquids down your throat even if you complain bc it's good for you and he spent so much of his precious time making it for you how dare you try and refuse???? it definitely helps with your sore throat the next day, though, and he looks so smug as he ladles you another bowl of soup to have in the morning. 

dokyeom:

almost starts crying when you tell him u have a sore throat through barely-there whispers bc the pain :((( of not being able to speak :((( that breaks his heart to think about. knows the struggles of runny noses So Well, whips out a tissue and presents it in front of your face if you so much as sniffle quietly. hugs you the entire time, wakes up the next morning with a sore throat and then Actually starts crying

seungkwan:

your personal megaphone whenever you're sick and can't speak. yells at the other members to shut up and listen when you have something to say, and then repeats what you whisper in his rlly loud voice. won't let you have meds (they are!! the demon's pills!!!!) but learns from mingyu how to make rlly good chicken broth for you

vernon:

gets so sad for u when you croak out to him that you can't speak bc your throat hurts so bad. makes you gargle with salt water after brushing your teeth bc it helps disinfect your throat (this is true actually n it really helps). randomly holds his hand to your forehead to check your temperature, but he can never tell if you're running hot or if it's just him

chan:

is all "oh no you're sick :(((( that's terrible also pls don't come too close to me" but pulls you in for a hug immediately if you even vaguely hint at wanting one. googles if throat massages are a thing when you tell him you can't speak bc it hurts, gives you lemon honey tea bc he finds out that helps. kinda ends up massaging your throat? his hands are always warm and they feel nice when placed on your neck

request guidelines

[darklydreamingdaddydom]

Christy had been through a lot. She was only 21, but she felt she had lived an entire life. She was 5'2, 115 pounds, blonde curly hair, with gorgeous thighs, for she was a cheerleader at St. Martin ’s University in Arkansas . She was the classic Southern Belle, complete with the accent. However, she hadn’t been using it over the past few days, because she had been depressed. As she lay up in her dorm room, Christy lamented over the coming midterms.

“I can’t believe midterms are already here. I am so unprepared.” She looked at the clock and read that it was 3 pm . She then contemplated studying for her Italian midterm, which happened to be the next day, but she fell asleep instead.

When Christy awoke, she yawned, stretched, rubbed her eyes and picked up her Italian textbook. Looking at the clock, she realized that it was 9 pm . She had slept for over four hours! “Oh my gosh”, she thought.

“I have got to study from now until the exam just to get through everything.” Whimpering, she crammed for the next 10 hours, taking small bathroom and snack breaks, only to walk into the exam room totally exhausted. She finished the exam with plenty of time left, which worried her, but, at that point, she didn’t care. The professor told the class that their grades would be posted via the internet in 3 hours, so check back. Trembling, Christy left the classroom to go find her some coffee, for she had three hours to wait.

Three hours later, Christy was back in her dorm room, logging onto her computer to check her grade. She had showered in the meantime, and had changed clothes from the plaid pajama pants and tank top into some nice pants and a blouse. As she logged onto her Italian course site, her heart sank into her stomach.

“A fucking 62??!!” she cried out.

“No way!” She slammed her chair against the table and threw herself onto her bed, exhausted and crying.

Christy assumed she cried herself to sleep, because she woke up from a doze with a start. Her clock read 12 pm . She assumed she had dozed off, but it wasn’t restful. Over the next few nights, Christy lost sleep and, even when she fell asleep from pure exhaustion, she didn’t rest. She woke up continuously tired and never any better off than when she went to sleep. She decided to go see the school doctor and see what he could prescribe her.

As Christy sat in the doctor’s office, she was shivering because she was cold. Finally, the doctor came in. She knew Doctor Mitchell well, for she had to get her birth control from him in addition to some antibiotics she had gotten a few months earlier for a bacterial infection she had come across.

“Hello, Christy, how’s life treating you?” Dr. Mitchell asked.

“Not too well, Mike,” Christy and the doctor were on a first-name basis. He gave her a funny look. She responded, “Ever since last month, I have been having trouble with sleep. I can’t fall asleep. Its like my mind works overtime and won’t let me drown anything out so I can get some rest.”

Immediately the doctor suggested a stress test, which Christy gladly accepted.

As Doctor Mitchell examined Christy’s levels of stress over a number of questions via a machine that examined her heartrate, he came to her with a diagnosis.

“Christy, you need a break.”

“Tell me something I don’t know, Mike”.

“Well, you know I am a psychologist in addition to a general practice doctor, and there’s this new kind of treatment for people who are needing an escape from daily life.”

Christy was nervous, kind of glancing around the room.

“Recreational pharmaceuticals, Mike?” she laughed.

“No, actually its hypnotism. Called YSR; or Youthful Stress Relief.”

Christy looked at him and got down immediately.

“No way, Mike. I am not letting you hypnotize me into anything.”

Mike stopped her.

“But you don’t understand. It’s for your own good. And plenty of research has been done to prove that its safe.”

“I dunno Mike,” Christy groaned.

“I don’t have the time.

“Look,” he said as he took her into his arms.

“Midterms are over. I will come over tomorrow night and explain everything to you then, okay?” Reluctantly, Christy agreed.

The next night came, and Christy answered the door when Mike knocked. In his arms he had books, a tape, and some candles. Looking at him awkwardly, Christy let him in.

“Now, here’s what YSR will do for you. When was the last time you were stress free?”

“Um, when I was probably 7, because with school, comes stress.”

“Good. Okay, you are 21, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I am going to hypnotize you and regress you mentally so that less stress is placed on you mentally each day. You will have the mind of 2-year-old by the end of it. And the best part is, its completely reversible, so you can come back to regular, everyday life whenever you want.”

“Hell, at this point, if it allows me to sleep better, I don’t care what it does,” Christy replied.

“Let’s go”.

“…and when I snap my fingers, you will wake up, completely in the mind of a 7-year-old.” <SNAP!>

“WHOA!” cried out Christy. She covered her mouth at the sound of her voice, and then giggled and got up, grabbing Mike’s hands.

“Let’s go play tag!” she cried out. Mike smiled. ‘exactly as it should be,’ he thought to himself.

“But Christy, its nearly your bed-time.” You need to go to bed, okay. Go get your jammies on so you can go to bed, okay?“

“Otay”, she replied, and disappeared into her bedroom, where, not five seconds later, she returned in an oversized t-shirt with panties on underneath.

“Now, we can sit here and watch tv if you want, but you have to promise to go to sleep.” The two of them sat down on the couch and, in a matter or moments, Christy was out, sleeping soundly.

The next morning, Mike brought Christy out of her hypnotized state, asking her how she slept.

“Mike, I don’t know what you did, but whatever it was, I feel awesome.”

“Well rested?”

“Very.”

“Good, then should we do this once every two weeks?” Mike asked.

“Sure, I am sure I will need it again in a couple of weeks. Want some breakfast? It’s the least I can do for you.” The two ate breakfast together, with Christy cooking eggs for Mike and herself.

Over the next few months, Christy began to call on Mike for more of the YSR. She was fixing to graduate, and time was running out for her to finish her final graduation project. Now, as time had gone on, Mike had not been charging Christy for his services. He accepted breakfast and wrote it off as a favor to a friend. However, he began to develop a crush on his patient, which is strictly forbidden by the Hippocratic Oath, which all doctors take when they are licensed. One night, he tried to move in on his crush, with some simple words.

“Christy, I have to tell you something,” he started.

“What is it Mike?”

“I…er…think I have a crush on you.”

This totally shocked Christy, who merely thought of Mike as her best friend and doctor.

“Well, I hate to break it to you, Mike, but this patient-doctor relationship is as far as we need to get, okay?” Mike was infuriated, but didn’t let it show.

“That’s fine, if that’s how you feel, I just felt the need to tell you, okay? Now onto our YSR for the evening.

<SNAP> Suddenly, Christy was awake. She was aware of everything that went on around her, seeing Mike sitting on her couch with a sly grin made her worried a little bit, but she was okay. As Christy decided to stand up she looked at Mike and spoke to him. She meant to say, ‘You want some breakfast, Mike?’, but it came out as, "Ooosu bekfass daddy?” She immediately slapped her hands to her mouth as she not only couldn’t form the words correctly, but heard the babyishness of her voice. She went to stand up immediately, not likeing the sound of her voice or her incapability to talk, and immediately fell back down with a padded <THUD>. She tried again, this time clumsily putting her hands in front of her and raising her butt in the air t gain balance. All of this was involuntary, as if her mind was forcing her body to do it before she could react. She was able to get upright, only to fall back down with another <THUD>. She noticed that she was sitting a few inched higher than usual and that something was different about her clothing. Christy looked down at her waist and saw…diapers! She was wearing what felt like two thick disposable diapers and a white t-shirt that barely covered her top.

“So, how’s my baby doing this morning?” Mike asked as he got up and moved over to her.

“You talked to me like I was some kind of baby, so I figured you would get a kick out of being one for a while. Maybe you should learn not to be so rude to people…baby. At this, Christy wanted to cry, but she fought the urge and, although her face scrunched up involuntarily, she prevented herself from crying.

"Now, let’s get up, shall we?” Mike said as he bent over to help Christy up. She wobbled as she stood there, simply being held up by Mike’s single hand held in hers. She was dependant on him at this point even to stand.

“Can you stand up while I go get you some food?” He mockingly asked. Christy lazily nodded her head, and Mike left. Almost the instant that he let go and was out of her sight, again, she wanted to cry uncontrollably, but again she fought it. Again this uncontrollable urge to cry came over her, but she fought it, only to fall down on her padded behind again. Mike returned with a bottle of “formula” that he had specially mixed, just for her. As Christy thirstily drank it down, she realized that she had been hungry, and that this formula strangely satisfied her hunger. As soon as Mike saw that she had finished her bottle, he led her by the hand into her guest room, which only had a tv in it. Aside from the tv, the room was bare.

Christy tried her best, once Mike left, to stand up so she could leave and find help, but the cartoons that he had turned on grabbed her attention. She was stuck to the tv, her eyes never leaving the screen. About thirty minutes later, she felt the urge to pee. She struggled with the words, but was finally able to call out, “Daddy!” and Mike came into the room.

“Me need potty!” she blurted out, holding her legs together while squirming. All of a sudden, as soon as she finished saying ‘potty’, she felt her bladder give way and herself flood her diapers. The warm urine flushed its way around the back of her diapers and, since she was sitting down, gushed towards the front. Christy tried her hardest to clench her bladder shut, but her muscles wouldn’t work. They simply wouldn’t work. Mike smiled and left. It didn’t take long, but minutes later, about 45 to be exact, Christy felt her bowels begin to rumble. 'Oh no’ she thought, 'I am not honestly gonna shit on myself, am I?’. She tried to work herself up frantically, feeling the pressure on her bowels increase with each passing second. She worked herself up to her feet by pushing her thickly diapered butt out in the air and pushing down with her hands. As she got to her feet, she began to wobble-step towards the door, all the while, her bowels were screaming to be released. Suddenly, one of her pigeon-toed steps caught the other foot, and she fell backwards again onto her butt. All of a sudden, her bowels gave way, expelling the last two days worth of adult food, and the formula that she had eaten earlier. It felt like five minutes, but for the entirety of that five minutes, Christy filled her diapers to the point of bursting.

21 Days Later - Daily Diapers Stories

[lighthouseshepard]

I know you just had top surgery - how was it? How was the healing process? I’m scared to death of surgery but I desperately need these off

HI NYX!!! ok im gonna try and be as brief and concise as possible because theres honestly quite a lot i could talk about but! heres some thoughts under the cut

so honestly as someone who has had a few surgeries in the past for other medical issues - this ranked VERY low on the pain scale. maybe a 4/10 tops at its worst (although i do understand everyone is different). the surgeon kept telling me "many people do not find this operation particularly painful" and i did not believe him one bit until afterwards. i had prescription pain medicne and antibiotics to take, but honestly i only needed the prescription medicine for about 3 days, and then after that i was fine with tylenol. after a week really i didnt need to take anything consistently, it was here or there if i happened to start moving around too much.

the worst part for me overall was the BANDAGES. after you wake up youre gonna be wrapped within an inch if your life with ike 2 inches of gauze and tape and an ace wrap holding it all together. if you have drains (which i did) you can't shower until they're out and the bandages come off, anywhere from 5 to 7 days usually. mine was 7 days and i was miserable. the drain emptying wasnt that bad tbh, someone helped me the first 2 times and then i was able to do it myself afterwards. if youre bad with blood or bodily fluids then youll def need someone to help you there. the drain removal process, to be completely honest, was. also bad. it lasted maybe five seconds per drain but i didnt breathe right like they told me to and had a vasovagal reaction and passed out. i dont say this to dissuade you! but it was not pleasant

the main thing probably is gonna be stiffness and soreness. you literally won't be able to do anything with your arms for at least a few days - its bordering on 2 weeks for me and im just now able to pull a shirt over my head without stiffness. you DEFINITELY will need someone to help you with basic tasks those first few days, getting food, getting dressed, etc. some ppl get bruising on their chest just from the skin being manipulated and etc but surprisingly i havent had any bruising yet?

also!! again some places differ, but mine was a same day surgery. after a few hours of waking up i was able to be bundled into the car back to the hotel. youre gonna be really groggy but i was able to walk just fine, albeit very slowly with help. the surgery itself was the blink of an eye to me. i remember them putting an o2 mask over my face and then i was OUT. seconds later i was being dragged up out of unconscious well by the nurse's voice.

ill say too, i 100% understand the nervousness and fear. the 2 weeks leading up to the surgery were like. awful andnsnjf. i was so anxious and terrified of the pain only to find it genuinely was not that bad at all. you know the this too shall pass lighter i have. i slept with that clutched in my hand the entire night before surgery. it was very much a "do it scared" situation and having those things of comfort and reassurance whatever they are to you can help immensely. and i did do it! and the relief i felt a week after when i finally got to see made literally all of it worth it. theres still healing to go (i took a month off work also) but im taking it very slowly and trying not to rush enjoyment of this body c: most of the healing process has been letting the body do its natural work and being patient with it, a thing i am usually not. i still have to dress the area for another 2 weeks maybe, but then i can start scar care!!!

[thatonebirdwrites]

Coffee

Follow-up to L-Corp, Chill, and Scotch (Lena's POV), Catco and Family (Kara's POV), Kara and Heat, Plumerias and Ink and Aura

This is objectively the worst coffee Kara has ever had in her life. No amount of sugar or milk saves it, yet it's the only coffee available in the hospital.

She takes another sip, grimaces, and considers just tossing it down the sink. Caffeine doesn't actually affect her, so her drinking it is mostly for comfort.

She waits in a small room by the surgery center, where doctors worked to repair the complication to Lena's condition. It's a name that Kara can't quite pronounce, Endocarditis, an infection in the heart. She thinks back through the last week and three days.

***

When Lena's blood culture tests, echocardiogram, CT and X-rays all came back positive for the infection, she is admitted to the hospital for supervision of a heavy round of antibiotics.

Kara sets up a schedule with Sam and Kelly for daily visits. Kelly can't do everyday, but she does the late morning. Kara goes for the afternoon, while Sam and sometimes Ruby covers evenings. Lena speaks sparingly, sleeps a lot, but seems to appreciate each visit.

Kara learns the name of Lena's nurses and technicians, but they seem to change shifts a lot, so she's not certain which ones will be there on which days. The technicians seem to be the ones that deal with hygiene tasks, while nurses deal more with the health portions like IV stuff, procedures, and medicines.

Lena's given the best suite in the department, and supposedly the best cooks. Kara judges the food harshly -- they call that the best? It doesn't even smell like food!

Lena, for some reason, finds Kara's reaction to hospital food hilarious. On Day 3 of Lena's Hospital Stay, Lena chuckles at Kara's latest horror at her food choices. "Darling," she says, which is a thing she started up in the hospital too -- pet names, "this is indeed the best in hospital fare." She had soup in front of her, broth heavy, and small kale-based salad.

Just the smell of kale insults Kara's senses. The menu the workers bring Lena -- they have a person specifically for food, just as they have nurses, nurse techs, and others that Kara totally forgot what their roles are -- is horrifically sparse on entrees and side dishes. Even the desserts are terrible. No donuts or ice cream! Just some weird fruit flavored ice pop.

"How do people survive?" Kara asks. "The portions are so small, and no variety! It's like a food desert."

"Mmmm. I suppose it is for you." Lena raises an eyebrow. "Which I have wondered... is your ferocious appetite part of your particular physiology?"

Lena-speak for if it's due to Kara being Kryptonian. "Yeah, it is. I need almost three times the calories of a human." Kara rubs her neck and smiles sheepishly.

"Wait, what? Do you even get enough in a day?" Lena's eyebrows scrunch cutely like it does when she's furiously pondering a subject.

"Not always," Kara admits. "There's some Earth food that I can't digest. Found that out the hard way my first few years here." She pokes the wet tea bag that sits in the corner of the tray. Despite steeping it for five minutes, Lena admits it's still rather tasteless tea.

"Kara..." Lena touches the back of Kara's hand. Another first since their fight, since well before Lex's death actually. Before Lex, the physical affection between them had been slowly ramping up, but after him, Lena's frosty demeanor and avoidance made even sitting near one another difficult.

Now she touches Kara tentatively but with a firmness, as if she's making sure Kara can really feel the touch. Another new thing between them and one Kara appreciates.

"What if I draft a powder for you? You can put it in your sickening sweet drinks to add in more calories."

"Really? You'd make that?" Kara blinks back the urge to cry. "I don't deserve..."

"Stop." Lena grasps her hand and rubs her thumb over Kara's palm. It tingles almost. "No more of that while I'm here. You and Sam have pressed upon me how important food and health is. So that means I can't sit idly knowing you may not get enough in a day." Her firm tone invokes no room for argument, but Kara has no idea what to say in response. So she only smiles and holds Lena's hand gingerly.

Lena has always been perceptive of Kara's needs, and she's tried to do the same. So it really shouldn't surprise Kara that Lena has ideas for how to draft this powder by day three of her hospital stay. Sam, on her way out, whispers to Kara how Lena has been nonstop pondering it, and she had to steal Lena's tablet twice to enforce rest the prior night.

Honestly, this is why she takes the longer shifts in the afternoon, to make sure Lena has everything she needs for this hospital stay. It's the least she can do to continue her repair and make sure Lena doesn't ever feel she has to face anything alone again.

Her time here has given Kara a shock as to how many people don't have visitors. That too becomes a conversation between her and Lena, this time on the fourth day of Lena's stay.

"There's this really nice old lady three rooms down from you. She had some sort of big heart surgery, but like no one visited her for a week! A week, Lena!" Kara throws her hands into the air in horror.

Lena smiles, her gaze focused intently on Kara. That too is a new development.

Before Lex, Lena tended to focus her attention on whoever the speaker is, but for Kara, she'd sometimes bite her bottom lip, smile softly, or step much, much closer than she would for other people. The singular focus often had Kara blushing.

After Lex, Lena avoided eye contact. At least until their talk at the gazebo.

Now Lena gazes at her with a singular focus, one so intent that she misses when anyone enters the room. Her entire body language shifts too, far more than in the past, as if she's listening not just with her ears but with her whole body. It's a trifle overwhelming, especially with how gorgeous Lena is, even when ill and in a pastel-blue hospital gown.

"I take it you did something about this tragedy?" Lena drawls, a hint of a smile on her lips.

"Well, yes. I couldn't just let her be sad and alone. So..." Kara leans closer and whispers, "Don't tell Alex, but I sort of hid in the bathroom and got out the supersuit, and had Supergirl visit her."

"Kara!" Lena laughs and weakly swats her arm. "That's what that commotion was."

Kara smiles. "Well, what can I say?" she shrugs. "Everyone loves and knows Supergirl."

That's when the Look started. Lena's expression softened, her gaze even more intent, but her smile almost shy. Kara can't recall Lena ever looking at her quite this way prior, and it warms her in a way that Kara can't quite pinpoint yet.

"I prefer Kara." The words punctuated with a firm nod as if Lena will fight anyone who disagrees.

Kara once again finds herself blinking back tears. "Really?"

"Yes. You'll always be just Kara to me."

That definitely invokes tears. "You might be the first to ever say that." She rubs her face, horrified by her own tears. "Everyone always treats me differently once they learn, and then it's all about... about you know."

"Were you afraid I'd do the same?"

Kara nods, miserable. It's why she stressed it so much in her apology at the Pulitzer's, how that fear had made her such a horrendous coward. "Yeah, I'm sorry."

Lena is silent for a long moment, that scrunch in her brows signalling her thinking. "I suppose I have treated you differently since I learned, but it was... out of hurt. Not because of your alternate identity per se."

"That's not the same," Kara insists. "Even then, you focused on me as Kara. Like even Nia, once she knew, I became her mentor, and sometimes that drives almost all of our friendship these days. And I get it. Kara Danvers isn't as cool."

Lena shakes her head. "I think Kara Danvers is cool just as she is. I have since the start." A faint smile twitches her lips.

On Day five, Kara is late for her shift due to a Supergirl emergency, this time a rampaging dinosaur. Some sort of animatronic turned into a real creature somehow.

Kelly has already left, and Lena lays quietly in bed, her tablet face-up in her lap. This is the first time Kara stopped to nab a coffee from the cafeteria, mostly to help her calm down from the fight.

"Hey Lena." Kara drops into the chair next to her bed. "How are you feeling today?" She takes a sip and stares at the coffee in horror. "Wow, this is terrible."

"Hospital coffee always is, hun," Lena murmurs. Her hands are restless against her blanket, and her brow scrunched as if she's been deep in thought. "Are -- are you okay?" Her eyes rove over Kara with an intensity that makes her blush. "I -- I saw the news."

Oh. That explains the nervousness in Lena's demeanor. "I'm fine." Kara smiles.

She listens to the rest of the department, but no one is near Lena's room, the nurses and techs are on opposite ends of the hallway or chatting at their desk six doors away.

So safe enough to share. "It looked worse than it was. Alex wants me to take it easy though. So I don't solar flare."

Lena tilts her head. "Explain? I hear the term off and on, but how does it work physiology-wise?"

"Oh." Kara taps her fingers against her leg. "My cells suck up solar energy and stores them. It's what gives me my powers, but I can deplete them over time. Usually time in the sun replenishes them, so I never fully deplete, but sometimes, on cloudy days or at night, I can use up all my reserves. That's a solar flare."

"So then no powers?"

Kara nods. "Yeah. Which means I have to be extra careful since I can sometimes break a bone without meaning to. I have to be so careful with my strength, that losing it means I will think I'm careful --"

"But you overcompensate?"

Kara nods. "Gosh, it feels so good to share this with you." She attempts another sip of the coffee and almost gags.

"Mmmm. Yes. I prefer this." Lena's tone holds no bitterness this time however. "Though I think you should give up on that coffee. Before you die from gagging."

Kara chuckles. "Yeah, I guess." She looks down at the brown liquid.

Tears prick her eyes, and she wonders how long Lena will have to stay here. It scares her to see Lena here, to see her so pale and weak, with IV and fluids, with the blood pressure cuff on her arm and her finger in the oxy-meter. A machine takes her vitals every fifteen minutes, the noise grating to Kara's ears.

"Kara, darling, how about you read the next chapter?" Lena holds out her book. As always, Lena knows when they both need the distraction. Kara takes the book and prepares her best reading voice, the one Lena seems delighted to hear. Giving a different voice to each character is part of that, which feels silly but it brings a smile to Lena's face, and that's something Kara desperately wants to keep doing.

When Lena falls asleep an hour later, Kara scoots closer and gently pushes a lock of hair away from Lena's face. Her fingers linger by Lena's ear, and that urge to kiss her forehead overwhelms Kara.

She can't help herself. She lets her lips ghost over Lena's cold skin.

That's when the current nurse - Quincey - walks in to check on Lena's vitals and change her IV bag. She smiles at Kara and gives her a wink when Kara hurriedly sits down as if caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

Before Nurse Quincey leaves, Kara stands and catches her at the door. "Um, do you know how much longer Lena has to stay?"

The nurse glances at the hospital bed, where Lena sleeps soundly. "It depends on how well she takes to the antibiotics. The doctor will see her tomorrow to check her progress if you want to save your questions for then." She gives Kara a reassuring smile. "And don't worry, we'll take good care of your partner."

Before Kara can protest the term, the nurse sweeps out of the room.

Well, that's just, something.

Kara sits down and downs the terrible coffee before its smell can assault her nose. She needs something after that, because if Lena hears a nurse call Kara that, what will she do? Kara doesn't want Lena to get upset and stress her heart.

After that day, Kara becomes far too intimate with the absolutely terrible coffee and food the hospital serves. Lena isn't allowed caffeine, so she's ends up with just decaffeinated tea or various juices.

"I'm convinced they source the worst tea imaginable," Lena admits to Kara the fifth day of her stay in the hospital. The bed is tilted so Lena can sit upright, and a tray hangs over her lap. The food, as usual, looks incredibly sad to Kara. In fact, it makes her want to rush out to find Lena real food.

But she's not sure if that's allowed. "I'd get you better tea, but I probably would need to sneak it in."

"Resorting to tea smuggling?" Lena jokes, dryly. "Kara Zor El Danvers, I'm scandalized."

To hear her full name uttered from Lena's lips? Kara can't help but smile. "Oh, I smuggle a lot of delicious things. Like potstickers in a theater."

That nets her a full-throat chuckle. Almost like old times. The pain or distrust in Lena's eyes hasn't fully left her, but she has started laughing more often to Kara's horrible jokes.

"Oh, that reminds me. Brainy and J'onn had to move my mind-healing session to today. So I need to leave fifteen minutes early. Mostly because J'onn only has an hour, and it takes about ten minutes for Brainy to set up the tech."

"The tech? As in what we used to find Sam during the worldkillers?" Lena asks.

"Yeah, that. I'm naturally resistant to telepathy, so J'onn can't do mind-healing work without Brainy's tech getting us all in one place in my mind."

"When did you start this?" Lena tilts her head, confused. "And why?"

"Um, well, a few weeks ago. I told you I want to repair us. To be better. That means dealing with my trauma too. I don't ever want my trauma to hurt you again." Kara looks down at her hands, embarrassed. "But Kryptonian mind-healers are few and far between on Argo, and I trust J'onn. He was trained by his father, and he understands what it's like to lose your people."

"Oh." Lena looks surprised, but then her expression softens, and she gives Kara the Look. Gently, she reaches out to grasp Kara's hand, and tugs lightly until Kara scoots her chair closer. Lena holds her hand over her heart. "Sam mentioned you'd gone to therapy, but I take it mind-healing is not the same?"

"Yeah, it's a little different" Kara says. "Mind-healing is... more intense? We refile the traumatic memories, and go through the emotions to process them. It's more visceral?"

"Huh." Lena rubs her thumb against the back of Kara's hand. That's another development. Since her hospitalization, she's been a lot more touchy-feely, as if she uses the touch to ground herself. Which Kara can understand considering how scary the hospital can be at times.

"I can... talk about it sometime if you'd like?" Kara says, hesitantly. It's a bit more of her alien nature than she's ever dared share with Lena prior.

"I'd like that." Lena smiles and the Look continues, this time with neither of them speaking. It's not uncomfortable, but it leaves Kara confused since Lena is definitely starting to stare, as if she's trying to memorize Kara's features.

"Um, do I have something on my face?" Kara pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose, nervously.

"Mmmmm. Just glasses." Lena plays with her hand but doesn't look away. This is one of those moments where Kara desperately wants to know what Lena is thinking, but she's too afraid to ask.

So she leans against the bed and lets Lena stare as much as she wants. If it helps her recover, then Kara will try not to blush the entire time. (She's unsuccessful).

When Nurse Quincey enters to swap IV bags and check over Lena, Kara starts to pull away, but Lena's grip tightens on her hand. She doesn't want to hurt her, so she lets Lena keep her hand.

The nurse glances at their hands with a smile. "So, how are you feeling, Lena?" Nurse Quincey winks at Lena. "I see your partner is here again."

"Mmm." To Kara's shock, Lena doesn't dispute the claim nor protest it. "It's her penance. She must endure the horrible coffee and food in return for my company."

Nurse Quincey laughs. "Some penance. That coffee is terrible."

Kara makes a 'bleh' face in agreement, which causes both the nurse and Lena to chuckle.

"How long have you two been together?" Nurse Quincey asks. She works efficiently, the new bag looking the same, but with a tilt of Kara's glasses, she can see the minerals and electrolytes swirling in it.

"Mmm. Awhile," Lena says vaguely.

"That's right," the nurse says with a laugh. "You're terribly private, until it's the middle of the night. Then all your tales spill out." She glances at Kara. "She like this for you too?"

Kara isn't sure if she should nod or not. Does Lena talk to the nurses about her? The casual friendliness catches her off guard, and she looks between them, confused.

Lena's face and neck reddens. "In my defense, you're a good listener unlike some people I know."

"Hey, what am I then?" Kara says in faux outrage. "Cold turkey?"

"I don't believe that's how the saying goes, darling," Lena drawls.

The nurse turns to the marker board to record the vitals. "You two are cute." She caps the marker. "The doctor will be in soon. We'll need to do another echocardiogram and X-ray."

Lena's smile fades and she sighs. "All right. May Kara stay for this?"

"Sure. It can be helpful I think, since partners sometimes think of questions you might miss." Nurse Quincey adjusts the IV tubes and checks the cuffs. "I know it can be overwhelming to be here. So don't push yourself to think of everything, Lena."

"Hard habit to break," Lena admits. "But I'm learning." She squeezes Kara's hand hard enough for it to tingle. "This one helps."

The nurse smiles again. "Good. Let me know if you need anything or if the pain worsens, okay?" She moves the bed controls closer to Lena's left hand.

After she leaves, Kara looks at Lena, confused. She wants to ask why Lena played along with the partner-stuff, but then Lena gives her the Look, and all words evaporate from her brain.

There's an intensity that almost burns the air between them, and Lena holds Kara's hand over her heart. As if to push Kara's warmth into it, which if Kara could she would.

"Lena?" Kara licks her lips, and struggles to keep her eyes away from Lena's chest or lips. That's always been difficult for her, but under the energizing Look, she finds it even more difficult.

"They all call you that," Lena says, softly.

"Um..." Words. Kara can use them, but she can't form the sentence in her head, so her words tumble in a bumbling confusion. "I mean, I like it but i thought, i mean, i don't know, i guess..."

Lena lifts her finger and presses it to Kara's lips. It takes all of Kara's willpower to not lick Lena's finger.

"I'm in the hospital, Kara, with a heart infection that would have killed me if you and Sam hadn't stepped in." Her hand drops to where she has Kara's hand still pressed against her heart. Which means Kara can feel the top of Lena's breast through her gown, which is definitely making it very hard to think of words to say. "You keep saving my life. That means something."

"Yeah." Kara licks her lips. She takes a steadying breath and tries very hard to not rub her thumb over the top of Lena's breast. She's doesn't want to make Lena uncomfortable, but she also doesn't want Lena to move her hand away. "I always will."

Lena smiles. "I know."

Neither of them speak of it again, and although Kara still doesn't understand why Lena doesn't correct anyone about the title 'partner,' she decides it must be a sign that something has healed between them.

Perhaps there is hope for them after-all.

***

When the doctor reviews the echocardiogram, X-ray, EKG, and bloog work, Kara sits with Lena, where Lena holds Kara's hand in a death grip even though her expression is neutral.

"Do you have an estimate at all?" Kara tries to keep the sharpness from her tone, but from the squeeze of Lena's hand, she knows she's been unsuccessful.

"Endocarditis isn't easily predictable," the doctor says, gently. "Generally the antibiotics should clear it out, but sometimes surgery is required to clean and repair the valves. It's best she stays here as we continue the regimen. In three days we'll do a check-up."

"Surely she won't need surgery, right?" Kara does not like the sound of that at all.

"I can't rule it out as a possibility. Not at this point." The doctor glances at Lena. "You did state that you wished for us to use the best techniques possible for this infection."

"I did," Lena agrees. "And I understand. Thank you, Doctor."

She gives them both a sad smile. "I know these news aren't what you hoped. But there has been progress. We've made a dent, and that's important to celebrate." She pats Kara's shoulder.

The doctor's words leaves her in a state of increasing worry.

So those three days, Kara does everything she can to not panic. Lena needs her support, not her panic and worry. So she leaves that to her talks with Alex in the evenings.

"I'm sure she'll get through this and be back to her normal self soon," Alex tells her. She's taken to checking on Kara each evening, and if she can't due to some obligation, she sends Nia or J'onn or Brainy. Anything to help Kara cope.

Or if Kara isn't up for speaking, she texts with Sam and Kelly, both of whom have taken to the group chat with their own worries and encouragement for what Sam calls "Lena's Cheerleader Team."

Kelly: Lena is remarkably calm about all of this. I suspect she isn't sharing her true emotions.

Sam: Hun, she never does. Plays it close to her vest. But I know she's scared to death.

Kara: How do you all stay calm?! I feel like the panic is pouring out of me, and I just want to hold her close and fix this somehow, but I can't. It's maddening.

Kelly: Meditation for me.

Sam: Eh, I've seen Lena survive all sorts of near-death experiences. I'm positive she'll just roll through this one after scaring the shit out of all of us, and be back to her old self in no time.

Kara: Oh gosh, I feel like I'm having to save her several times a year. I panic almost every time. At least with those we rescue her in time, and she's not hurt. But this is so long and terrifying.

Sam: You ever had a loved one be ill for this long, Kara?

Kara: Well, Alex sometimes got ill from the flu, but no, not hospital-level. And even Lena's numerous near-death experiences never warranted longer than a few hours in the emergency department.

Kelly: Wait, what? What do you mean numerous near-death experiences??

Sam: When she jokes about quarterly assassination attempts, it's not actually a joke. It used to be that frequent. Her actions to help save the world has lessened it some lately, but it's still far more frequent than my poor heart can bear.

Kara: Keeping Lena alive is part of my job.

Kelly: Maybe I should be asking her if she'd like a recommendation to a therapy then.

Sam: If you can convince her to go and not give up after session two, I'll call you a miracle worker.

Sam: Kara, us humans are prone to illness. I suggest taking time to do something unrelated to Lena or hospitals. Do not burn yourself out on this. Lena needs us, so that means we all must take care of ourselves too. Get me?

Kara: Yes, mother. :)

Kelly: Good speech, Sam.

Sam: What I'm good at. Dad jokes and speeches.

***

Kara has a Supergirl emergency the day Lena has to retake the blood tests and other procedures. They almost have the alien with the projector, and Kara nearly solar flares in her fight with him. They capture him, and she flies to the hospital without so much of a word to Alex of J'onn.

Her suit deactivates at the top of the parking garage, and she tries to no use superspeed to reach Lena's room.

By the time she gets there, breathless with worry, Lena's techs have rolled her bed back into place. Lena lays quiet, her breaths belabored, and a sheen of sweet on her forehead. A tech wipes her face for her and nods to Kara, who nearly trips over herself to reach Lena's side.

"How -- how did it go?"

"Just took the tests." Lena sounds breathless still. "You had an emergency? You're late." She doesn't sound upset, just concerned. She holds out her hand, and Kara gingerly takes it.

"Yeah, I came as soon as I could. I'm sorry I'm late."

Lena smiles, and she gives Kara the Look again. This time with the techs there to witness. The longer she stays in the hospital, the more blatant Lena becomes with her stares at Kara and the increasing affectionate touches.

"The doctor will be by in an hour or so, once we have the results," a tech says. "Let us know if you need anything." He places the remote by Lena's hand.

Lena nods at him, but quickly returns her gaze to Kara's.

Silence stretches between them. This one feels charged in ways that confuse Kara. The longer the stay, the more intense Lena becomes, as if she's unveiling more of her heart each day.

It shouldn't worry Kara. She should be elated, but it feels too much, too soon. She doesn't want Lena to feel pressured to do anything, and she's afraid that this is all temporary. That once Lena leaves the hospital, everything will go back to how things were in their gazebo talk.

Kara's not sure how to deal if that happens. She's starting to covet Lena's Look and increasingly affectionate touches.

"Kara," Lena starts to say, but trails off.

"Yeah?"

"Stay longer today, please."

"What of Sam?" Kara tries not to take too much of Sam's shift. She knows how important that friendship is to Lena.

"She'll understand."

"Okay." Kara will do anything for Lena. That earns her one of Lena's soft, shy smiles.

When the doctor speaks to them, it's after almost two hours of waiting, most of it Lena dozes, her arms around Kara's right arm, which makes it hard for Kara to do much but lean against the hospital bed's railing while she messes with a game on her phone one-handed.

Doctor Singh has already gone through the scans and answered all of Lena's very detailed questions. Kara's questions focuses solely on how long Lena must stay and the next stage of treatment.

"Surgery," the doctor says firmly. "We noticed a complication that we need to address as soon as possible."

"Surgery?" Kara repeats horrified. "But… surely she won't need that?"

Again, her willpower is severely tested. Panic twists her gut, and she tries to not let it show. Lena looks so frail and tired, her questions keen but her voice soft. She hasn't released Kara's hand since her return to the room after the tests. Kara can feel the tremor in Lena's hand muscles, which also worries her.

Worrying for Lena's health has been so constant that this spike in worry feels like a she's been dunked in a sand pit, sputtering for air. She wants to see Lena well, and the doctor's words aren't helping calm the rising inferno in Kara's chest.

"She will," the doctor says firmly. "I understand it can be scary as her partner. But she'll be in good care, and her survival-ability is quite high."

Survival-ability? Golly, how is Kara supposed to feel better with that word? It sounds like a word that beats one up in a dark alley and leaves one for dead. Not a good word. Not at all.

So the last bit of the Doctor's time Kara barely hears. It's after the Doctor has left that Kara finally finds words. "You're so calm about this, Lena! How?"

"Because I know you'll show all the emotions for me," Lena lightly teases.

"Lena..." Kara frowns. "This is your health."

"I know." Lena shifts against her pillows and holds Kara's hand close to heart again. "I am scared," she says, softly. "It's hard to not be, but I know now I'm not alone in this. You, Sam, and Kelly have made sure of that." She gestures to her side table. "And the cards from everyone else has been far more than I deserve. Especially after what I did to you."

"You were hurting," Kara says. "I forgave you ages ago."

"You're a much better person than me," Lena says, ruefully. "I've hurt far more than just you with that sale to Andrea. Nia, especially, I don't understand why she seems determined to write me daily."

"She thinks the world of you, Lena. And yeah, Andrea is not a good boss, but with your hospitalization? She's been a lot kinder to us. I thought I'd have to fight harder to get the time to visit you daily, but Andrea just said, 'Go be who I couldn't, Kara. I'll mark you down for half time until she's well.'"

Lena blinks in surprise. "She -- she said that?"

Kara nods. "Yeah. It's made both Nia and I look at her in a different light. Now we're wondering how much of her prickly behavior is trauma-based."

"Huh." Lena looks at the ceiling, her forehead crunched in thought. "I -- I didn't think she still cared. Her betrayal still hurts today."

Kara brushes a lock of Lena's hair from her face, and her fingers linger against her cheek. She can't help it. "I think she regrets whatever she did. But you are under no obligation to forgive her or do anything with that. Your health and well-being comes first."

Lena lifts her other hand and presses Kara's hand against her cheek. The Look is out in force, and it leaves Kara temporarily breathless. "As you and Sam are teaching me," Lena murmurs. "Kara..."

"Yeah?" The words comes out breathless. The worry simmers like oil atop the deep waters of love she has for Lena. She wants to just blurt out her love, but she's not sure if it's appropriate. So far, she's going by what Lena needs.

"I know this has been hard for you," Lena whispers. "But your presence means a lot to me. You didn't need to do this. You could have just... walked away."

"Never." Kara leans toward her, her tone fervent. "I'll never walk away..." she realizes the implication there and blushes. "I mean unless you directly tell me to get lost. Because you know consent is important, but well, since you didn't, um, I'm staying. To repair us, to be here in whatever way you need. You're my person, Lena."

"Alex wrote I've always been your exception," Lena says, and she nibbles on her lip.

"Yeah. You are." She knows exactly what Alex refers to -- all the times Kara dropped everything to rescue Lena. Or how she defended Lena despite everyone being against her. So many fights with her sister over Lena.

Oh Rao, was she in love with Lena even then? Golly. No wonder Alex is so exasperated with her in regards to Lena.

"Why?" Lena's eyes search for something in Kara's expression.

"I told you," Kara says, gently. "I love you."

That crinkle appears again. "Friendship love or...?"

"In love. With you I mean. I'm in love." Kara's face turns pink. She thought she'd made it obvious in her first confession in the gazebo, but perhaps not.

Lena smiles, her hand still pressing Kara's hand to her cheek. For a long moment, she gazes at Kara, a slight crinkle in her brow.

"Trusting that is hard," she says, quietly. "But you've followed through on your promises since your apology. Thank you."

"Of course," Kara says. "I want to be better for you."

"Kara..." Lena's nose wrinkles so cutely. "Do it for your sake too."

"Well, yeah, but you're my priority."

Lena mulls that over, her eyes roving over Kara's face. She bites her lip and takes an unsteady breath. "Kara, I -- I love you too."

Kara breathes in sharply. She had not expected Lena to say that ever. She doesn't know what to do with it.

"It's why it all hurt so much. I've loved you so long that -- that I never thought you'd ever feel the same."

Oh Rao, 'feel the same?' Joy and fear seeps through Kara. Lena loves her. Despite everything. Yet those dark thoughts persist, the ones that insist it's the life-threatening illness and hospitalization talking. That this will disappear once Lena's well.

Perhaps that's a sort of trust too.

"Lena..." Kara can't sort out what to say.

"I never thought you'd actually hurt me," Lena continues, "I recognize now I had you on a pedestal, and that wasn't fair to you. We're both imperfect. Flawed. And love means loving one another through the hardships too."

"Yeah, I like how you put that." It feels inadequate in comparison, but Kara's brain is still caught up in the fact Lena loves her.

Lena briefly closes her eyes, still against the blankets and pillows. After several deep breaths, she turns her head to give Kara the Look again. "But if I don't recover, I -- I didn't want to die without you knowing the truth."

"Lena..." Kara blinked back tears. "You won't die."

Lena sighs. "I'd rather play it safe. Sam knows where my will is. I rewrote it again, and I included you. I wanted to make sure you, Sam, and Ruby are taken care of."

"Lena, please, don't." Kara can't handle this. "You're going to be okay. You have to be."

Lena smiles and turns her head to press a kiss to Kara's palm. "Okay. I'll be fine then."

"Exactly." Kara sniffed and knew she was crying, but she didn't care. This was Lena. "And I'll be there for when you exit Surgery, and you'll be released in no time, and we can celebrate with potstickers and a relaxing movie. And Ruby and Sam can make popcorn, and soon you're strength will be back, and you'll be inventing and changing the world again. I'll be right there with you. You aren't alone. Not anymore, not ever."

"Okay." Lena pats the bed next to her. "Hold me please. At least until it's time."

Kara carefully settles herself on her side next to Lena, away from her IV. She wraps her arms around Lena and holds her tenderly.

***

Kara sips her coffee, wrinkles her nose.

Rao, this coffee smells horrendous. She puts it down on the table and fiddles with the magazines on display. Most are gossip rags, though Catco and its competitor are included in the pile along with a medical magazine.

Her phone vibrates, and she pulls it out desperate for any distractions.

Sam: I'm on my way. Is she still in surgery?

Kara: Yeah. I feel like I'm losing my mind waiting. What if she doesn't make it? what if something goes wrong?

Sam: What's the easiest buildling to lift?

Er... what? Kara scratches her head, confused at the sudden change in topic. She decides to roll with it because Sam always has a point to her weirdness.

Kara: :thinking face: uhhh, mobile home?

Sam: A lighthouse.

That startles her into a laugh. Oh Rao, that was good. Lighthouse.

Sam: How do you know when a comedian passes gas?

Kara: when something smells funny?

Sam: Beat me to the punchline.

Tears sting Kara's eyes. She knows Sam's distracting her with bad jokes, and it's sort of working. No wonder Lena likes her so much.

"Ms. Danvers?" It's one of the nurses from the Surgical suite.

"Yes?" She pockets her phone and stands. "How is she?"

The nurse smiles. "She's in recovery now. The surgery went perfectly. Once she wakes, we'll bring her to you."

Relief floods Kara. She doesn't even realize she's crying until the nurse steps forward with a box of Kleenex. "Thanks."

The nurse pats her shoulder. "Take your time. I'll ask the doctor if we can let you into the recovery section, okay?"

"Yes, please. Thank you." Kara dabs her eyes.

Oh gosh, Lena is alive. She's going to be okay.

[sixhours]

One Day at a Time - Chapter 1 - Conception

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Joel Miller x f!OFC, Joel & Ellie, mostly follows canon, SMUT, gratuitous smut, dubious consent (drunk sex), unplanned pregnancy, fluff, references to past miscarriages, angst, hurt/comfort, romance, age gap (~21 years), childbirth, fluffy baby stuff, I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

It was probably the alcohol.

No, it was definitely the alcohol. That shit was lethal and he should have known better.

Charlie wasn’t even supposed to be on the patrol roster that day. Joel was usually paired with Tommy; the brothers had a good rhythm and years of partnership that made their runs almost effortless. But Tommy’s kid was sick, and Charlie had shown up for his shift.

Joel didn’t mind. She was serious, a good shot, and she didn’t feel the need to fill the silence. Even Tommy could get chatty when the mood struck, and Joel was infamously allergic to small talk. It was one overnight run–ride north, spend the night in Beaver Creek, keep an eye out for hordes, and salvage and scavenge what they could–and then they’d come home.

If only she hadn’t cut her damn leg.

“Hold still,” Joel grunted as Charlie’s calf twitched under his hand. The gash was deep enough to require stitches, but he wasn’t going to try that, not with his arthritic fingers, not in this damp spring chill. He poured a splash of alcohol over the wound and winced at her hissed out-breath.

“Motherfucker,” she growled, and Joel’s cock gave an involuntary twitch at the timbre of her voice, a hazy borderland between pleasure and pain.

Yeah, he’d noticed her. The way her ass looked in those jeans, the way her thighs gripped the saddle and held firm, the way her competent hands wielded a rifle. Her hair was a shock of silver-white that complemented strange light gray eyes and full pink lips.

He’d noticed all of it. He was old as dirt, but he wasn’t dead .

When a clean rag was wrapped and tied around the wound, he sat back, examining his work.

“How the hell’d you manage that?”

She gestured to the corner of the outpost where refuse had piled up. “Was looking for the log. There’s a broken window, didn’t see it.”

“Log’s on the other side,” he grouched.

“Yeah, I figured that out,” she muttered, wincing as she shifted her leg.

“S’it hurt?”

She shot him a look. Of course, it fucking hurts.

So he handed her the flask from which he’d poured the makeshift antibiotic.

“This’ll help.”

Charlie took the first swallow greedily, eyes watering, wheezing and coughing when the stuff hit the back of her throat. “Holy shit, what is this?”

He smirked, taking back the flask and helping himself, letting out an involuntary cough at the burn. “They don’t fuck around at the distillery.”

“You don’t say,” she said, gesturing to him with a flick of her fingers. Give it back. He obliged.

He forgot he hadn’t had a stiff drink in too many months. He forgot the stuff was so potent . He forgot the cold made it easier to get shit-faced.

The drink helped ease the tension and pass the time as they passed the flask back and forth. It loosened his tongue and made him soft, malleable, fuzzy around the edges.

He remembers her leaning into him, seeking warmth. He remembers putting an arm around her and thinking she smelled really good, then her face was really close to his and…then the flask was empty and Charlie was straddling his lap and her hot little tongue was licking his mouth and he had no concept of how she’d gotten there.

Worst of all, he didn’t really care.

The next time he came to, she was pinned underneath him, three of his thick fingers pressing into the hot slick of her mouth. He watched, mesmerized, as she sucked them in deeper, swirled her tongue between the sensitive V of his middle and index fingers…then fucking smiled around them.

The noise he made was something between a croak and a moan, cock buried in her to the hilt, hips rocking against hers involuntarily as she clenched, clenched, clenched . At some point, she’d taken off her jacket and he’d pushed up her shirt, pulled the cup of her bra down over one perfect full breast, and he had just enough wherewithal for his lips to find her nipple, sucking it hard between his teeth. He fumbled then, wanting the other breast, but his other hand was still in her fucking mouth, pressing against the soft warm pad of her tongue, and he couldn’t hold himself up. He growled in frustration, used his teeth against the lace cup of her bra, pulled hard, and freed his target.

Then he promptly forgot what he was trying to do.

The little sounds she made, cooed and purred directly into his good ear, were going to drive him fucking insane. It shouldn’t have been possible to get this hard , not at his age, and certainly not while on the verge of blackout drunk. He felt like he’d taken one of those little blue pills he used to trade. And she was so wet, so soft. She was burning around him and he wanted to die in her fire.

Then his groin pulled tight, a molten heat pooling low in his belly, and he couldn’t make himself stop thrusting, couldn’t make himself wait.

“You–you gonna–” he fumbled, trying to get the words to cooperate but his tongue was a useless piece of meat in his mouth and he was too fucking gone.

Charlie’s strong body arched under him, cutting him off, and all he could feel was her sweet, slick fluttering pulling him deeper as she came with a wail. A dim part of his mind thanked a god he didn’t believe in and followed suit, spilling into her with a final sloppy thrust that wrenched a harsh cry from his lips and his mind from his body.

He vaguely remembers her pushing him off, panting and muttering about not being able to breathe, and then it all went black.

He wakes with a groan that tastes like bile. 

Oh, his aching head, his godforsaken head . He’s having a stroke. That’s gotta be it. Only explanation.

He rolls to his side in agony and dares a tiny peek through swollen, dry eyes. The light is a white-hot blade to his frontal lobe.

Nope, that’s not gonna work.

He hears retching outside. His hand touches something cold and metallic—the flask. 

The empty flask.

Jesus. He risks another glance at the too-bright world and it hurts a tiny fraction less. Maybe not a stroke after all. His cock is still hanging out of his boxers, flaccid and freezing, and he has just enough capacity to tuck himself back in and sit up before Charlie comes limping into the cabin.

The sight of her calls up a hazy memory of heat and searing pleasure along with a wave of nausea. It must come back to her, too, because she’s looking at him warily.

“Did we…?” she says.

“We did,” Joel mutters, forcing himself to stay absolutely still. The slightest movement leaves him feeling like a rowboat tossed on the open sea.

“Thought so. Shit.”

After a few excruciating moments, Joel’s stomach settles and he attempts to get to his feet. His back has other plans, and when she offers him an arm for leverage, he takes it reluctantly, pulling away at the first possible opportunity when he’s sure he’s not going to keel over.

“Look–”

“Listen–”

Fuck.  

“You go,” he says, closing his eyes. Oops, that was a mistake. The world spins behind his eyelids. He drags them open, stumbling toward the door, searching for something to hold onto.

“I think…we’re two people, who had a consensual–consensual-ish—”

Joel’s gut rolls, pitches, yaws. He flings open the door just in time, depositing the meager contents of his stomach into the mud.

Leaning on the door frame, her hand on his arm brings him back.

“This doesn’t need to be weird,” Charlie says. “Can we chalk it up to a couple of bad decisions and move on?”

“Yeah,” he grunts, swallowing another heave. “S’fine.”

He’s barely conscious for the trip back to Jackson. The glare of the early spring sun and the lope of the horse beneath him is nauseating. Charlie doesn’t seem to fare much better, but true to her nature, she doesn’t complain.

They ride through the gates and part ways with barely a nod and a wave between them. No one asks why their run proves fruitless, chalking it up to Charlie’s injury. She limps off to the clinic to get stitched up, and Joel staggers home, collapsing in bed to sleep off the worst hangover of his life.

[idontplaytrack]

✧ Mama Bear

Olivia Benson x teen daughter reader + younger brother Noah (ft. Amanda & Fin)

Warnings: fluff, slight descriptions of vomiting

In which, reader falls sick for the first time in a long time, driving Olivia into full on mama bear mode while having to juggle work and also making sure that Noah was taken care of

Olivia was making breakfast when she heard your usual morning alarm clock go off. However, when you didn’t turn it off like you usually would, she initially thought you just wanted to laze in bed for a little bit. Still ten minutes go by, you didn’t walk out and your alarm went off again. That caused alarms to go off in her head. Olivia turned the stove off and walked up to your room, knocking on the door.

“y/n, time to wake up, honey.” She opens the door after that, surprised to see your curtains closed and the blanket basically covering your head completely.

“No.” You mumbled into your pillow.

You never did this. “Honey, what’s wrong?” Her immediate reaction was honestly to worry, but she didn’t show it. Obviously. But it’s not like you could see her face.

“My head hurts so bad, Mom.” You croaked.

Now, the panic really set in. She hasn’t heard you admit you weren’t feeling well in at least 3 years. It was always an occasional cold or headache that you got, but this time around? You were really beaten down.

“Is sissy okay, mama?” Noah asked, Olivia turned her head to see him standing in your doorway.

“She’ll be okay, she’s just not feeling too good this morning. Give me a minute and I’ll bring you breakfast, okay, honey?”

“Okay.” The boy agreed quickly and left you and Olivia alone again.

“Baby, can you sit up for me please?” She requested, her hand rubbing your back comfortingly, “Is it just your head that hurts?”

“I don’t know.” You managed to tell her, your lower lip quivering, signalling to her that you were about to cry. Something she’s always knew about you- you cry easily when you’re ill. “My ears? I can’t- I can’t really hear that well on one side.”

“Oh, I think you have an ear infection, sweetheart.” Olivia realised, “Just- stay here and give me a minute to get Noah sorted.”

Olivia rushed back outside to give Noah his breakfast of pancakes and scrambled eggs then grabbed her phone to text Lucy to come over and keep an eye on Noah, then she texts Fin to tell him that she won’t be at work that morning, explaining why as well. He didn’t even need an explanation.

————

The doctor confirms Olivia’s suspicions of an ear infection. A double ear infection, an after effect of a cold which caused there to be fluid buildup in your inner ears and a bit of hearing loss — which thankfully, will resolve once the prescribed antibiotics kick in and run its full course. The doctor also gave you three days off of school in order to recuperate. But let’s face it, even if she didn’t, you would’ve stayed home anyway- even normal talking had you flinching. You couldn’t imagine spending a whole day in school feeling like this. Your head also felt like it was going to explode if people kept talking to you. It even hurt to open your mouth- so eating was the least of your worries currently. Finally, after a noisy drive, you were back home. Once the front door opened, Noah tackled you with a hug. “Hi, bubby.”

“Sorry you’re not feeling good.”

“Thanks, bub.” You ran a hand through his hair.

“y/n, go to your room and I’ll bring you a little something to eat before you take your meds, hm?”

“Okay.” You quietly agreed and walked into your room.

“So, what’d the doctor say?” Asked Lucy.

“Double ear infection, bit of a hearing loss in one ear but it’ll go away once the meds take effect.”

“That’s good. Do you want me to just keep an eye on her too so you can go to work? I know how much you hate missing work.”

Olivia chuckles, “Ah, I think a bit of time off would do me some good. I already told my squad I won’t be going in today.”

Lucy nodded.

“Yeah, so you can go if you want.” Olivia says.

“No, it’s okay. My day’s free. It’ll probably be better if I stay for a little longer, at least. Seeing that you probably need to take care of y/n.”

“Thank you.” Olivia smiled lightly, proceeding to go boil some water in the electric kettle in order to make you some oatmeal. She slathers a couple tablespoons of peanut butter onto the top of the oatmeal before bringing it to you on a tray, along with a cup of water.

The worst symptom was the unpredictable, sudden stabbing pains that you’d get that will literally bring tears to your eyes. “Okay, I need the painkillers.” You told your mother decisively.

“I’ll bring it for you now. But here’s some oatmeal so the meds won’t hurt your stomach, okay?”

“Thanks, Mom.”

Flashing you a smile, she leaves the room to retrieve your medications from the dining table. You fought through the ache and ate a few spoonful of the goop, though you actually really liked it…despite how unpleasant it may look. Your Mom knew exactly what you liked to eat and how you liked it.

“Here, take this for the pain and fever first. Eat a bit more oatmeal then take one of these antibiotics pills, okay?” She took them out for you, then she just sits there with you. You nodded wordlessly and just did as she told you to.

“Take the antibiotic pill with the oatmeal, honey.” She suggested- no, reminded you. “I know it’s hard for you to do it, but please?”

You whined.

“You need to take it, baby.” She cups your cheek, stroking it with her thumb, “Otherwise the pain will just get worse and we don’t want that.”

You held your breath and put the pill in your mouth, swiftly chasing it with a spoonful of oatmeal. You swallowed the whole mouthful before the chalky medicine could dissolve too much.

“That’s my girl.” Olivia smiled of relief, “Okay, you still want the oatmeal?”

“No, thanks.”

“Alright, I’ll take of that. You get some rest.”

————

When evening comes around, you were still asleep. You fell asleep a good four hours ago and only got woken up when you heard a new voice. Wait- it was one you recognised. Fin’s

“She’s in her room. Asleep.” You heard your Mom tell him.

“It’s okay, I just wanted to drop this off. Got her a little something to cheer her up.”

You groggily sat up in your bed then stood up, dragging yourself on your feet to the bathroom. Randomly shivering, now that you were away from the warmth of your sheets and blanket. You hurriedly washed your face with the cleanser to rid it of the greasy feeling. When you made your way out to the living room, he was still there, playing with Noah.

“Oh, you’re up.” Olivia realises.

“Yup.” You forced a smile.

“Hey.” Fin greeted you.

“Hi Fin. Thanks for the uh…thing you got me.” You said.

“No problem. It’s just a little something.” He shrugs.

“Mom, where- where’s my water bottle? I can’t find it. I thought I had it in my room.”

“Ah, I just washed and refilled it for you. It’s in the fridge.” Olivia recalls. While you drank some of that cold water to hydrate, Fin was chatting with your Mom- Telling her she didn’t have to worry about work. But you all knew her and knew that as much as she was a loving mother, she also loved her job and would be working all day if life allowed her to.

“Just go back to work tomorrow.” You pretty sure you slurred.

The adults glanced at you, slightly amused. “You heard her.” Fin says.

“Are you sure?” Oliva asks.

“I’ll just be clingy tonight, then I’m pretty sure I’ll feel a bit better tomorrow- better enough to not be clingy.” You shrugged, sitting at the table, gripping onto your cold, olive coloured Nalgene with both hands. Noah laughs. You did too.

Your gaze falls on the box of chocolate on the table in front of you. Your fingers reached out to peel off the clear plastic wrap. “Ooh, can I have one? Please, sissy?”

“Sure, Noah.” You cleared your throat, chuckling. “Here, pick one.”

“Yay!” He cheered, jumping off the couch and running over to you to take a look at the selection.

“Fin, you really shouldn’t have.” Olivia says.

“Can’t stop me. Or Carisi and Rollins who are on their way with dinner.” He shrugs.

“Oh, my God.” Liv inhales. “You can’t be serious.”

“Do I look like I wanna mess with you right now?” He squinted, “Look, I got one grandkid, the squad’s kids are like my own, too. Just let me spoil ‘em once in awhile.”

“Once in awhile? You get her a box of chocolates and some chips every month.”

Fin laughs, “We all need a little treat.”

As if on cue, there was a string of knocks on the door, making you jump and seethe in pain. Noah looks at you worriedly for a moment. “I’m okay, bubs. Just my ears being a little sore.”

He nodded, quickly more interested in the box of chocolates once again. Liv got up to answer the door, giving you a squeeze on the shoulder when she walked by you.

“Sorry, I should’ve given them the heads up to not knock.” Fin said.

“It’s- it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

————

Unexpectedly, your stomach felt heavy after dinner. Like it just did not feel right. But, everyone else seemed right as rain. You deduced that it must’ve been a side effect of the antibiotics. By then, Fin and Carisi had left, Noah was sitting with Olivia and Amanda when you got up from your seat on the couch, leaving Amanda alone chatting with your Mom. You quietly retreated to your bedroom, and sat on your bed, wishing for the sickening feeling to pass.

You hear the creaking of your door, causing you to look up. Amanda leans on the doorframe asking if you were okay. “Uh, not really?”

“Do you need me to get your mom?”

“I don’t- think so. Just the antibiotics making me feel a little, ugh.” You took in a sharp breath, then a sip of water- slowly. “Oh, God.” You jerked, scrambling to your bathroom. A very worried Amanda trails after you. The little bit of food you had for dinner spills out from your mouth, leaving an extremely uncomfortable burning sensation in your throat. You felt a hand on your back, and the blonde’s voice assuring you at you were okay. Seconds later, another voice- your Mom’s.

“She’s alright. The antibiotics upset her stomach.” Amanda says. “You ready to get back into bed?”

You nodded, “I want to- uh, rinse my mouth.”

“Okay, easy, easy. You got it.” Amanda held onto you while you hear your Mom fluffing your pillows then she leaves, and returns. You hear the sound of a plastic trash can hit your floor.

Amanda helps you back into bed, your Mom pulls the blanket up to cover you properly. “Thanks.” You smiled, now feeling a tad embarrassed about what’d just happened.

“Don’t mention it,” The blonde smiled, “Feel better soon, hun. I’m gonna get goin’, Liv. I’ll see you back at work soon,”

“Alright. Good night, Amanda.”

You watched her leave, then your gaze pans over to your Mom. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine- go back to work tomorrow.”

“Okay, okay.” Olivia agrees, “I’m gonna leave your door open, so if anything- I can probably hear you better, alright?”

“Alright.” You shrugged.

She presses a kiss to the crown of your head,“Good night, sweet girl.”

[prince-liest]

Hey, I’m hoping this will be coherent cause I’ve had surgery and I’m on pain meds right now but I just wanted to let you know that you word good. I really like your writing and the representation you give to a type of relationship you can have as an aroace person. I like your succulents and shrimps too, I hope the plants weren’t too burnt by the sun. The Echevaria something looked really pretty. And hell yeah who doesn’t love some good pesto.

I just wanted to thank you for sharing your writing it has been a delight to read and I was not discouraged to hear there wasn’t any planned stuff. any other stuff added is a nice surprise/bonus. Don’t feel the need to response I just wanted to give my appreciation with words, sorry for the blargh of words (🥔)

Hope you are well 💛

I hope you're feeling better and that your recovery is going well! The last time I had surgery, it was for my wisdom teeth, and the antibiotics they gave me cleared my acne. (Only for as long as I was taking them, but it was a glorious few days.)

Anyway, thank you so much! I am as slow as ever to respond to asks sometimes, but this brought me joy to receive and I really appreciated it. The succulents are indeed not too burnt (and have now acclimated to the outdoors and are growing fresh new leaves that will not burn), and I'm really glad that folks out there are enjoying my fish, shrimp, and plantblogging inbetween all the fanfiction shenanigans! I love sharing my random hobbies with folks that originally came here for my writing, and I say that without a whit of sarcasm, ehehe.

Writing about aroaceness and relationship variety (and specifically relationship anarchy) means a lot to me, and I'm going to be up front about it: I never expected just how many people would deeply appreciate my doing so! It's been a real delight to find myself flooded by supportive messages from the very community that I, honestly, only somewhat recently realized myself to be a part of.

<3!