#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.

[witherby]

do you think that the batfam has different ways of explaining their bruises/injuries they get from crimefighting to an observant mouse? ��👼👼

--🎆

Fantastic question! I think growing up in Wayne Manor would make it exceptionally difficult to hide the vigilantism from you. They could 100% do it, but it would take about a thousand times more effort concealing it from you than the general public, so I don't think they would.

You're very young when you start really piecing it together, though, so they're gonna have to tell you what happened in child-friendly ways.

The Littlest Wayne: Post-Battle Injuries

1. Bruce

"Wha' happen, daddy?"

This man is not a good liar, but he dodges the truth like it's an Olympic sport. Like any public figure worth their salt, he's gonna answer the question without answering the question.

"Well, when Daddy has to go be Batman, sometimes he gets hurt. The boo-boos will go away after a while, and everything is going to be fine. You'll have to hug gently for a few days."

What he doesn't say is that he took a toyota corolla pushing 70 to the ribs and can feel the broken bones shifting and rubbing together like wet chopsticks under his skin, it's fucking nauseating, and he needs to go pass out as soon as he puts you down for a nap.

2. Dick

"Uh-oh, Dinky hurty?"

If Bruce is admired for keeping his cool in the wake of grievous injury, then Dick wrote the fucking book on it. His picture shows up when you google "gaslight gatekeep girlboss." He could lose a limb and convince you it's always been like that with a straight face. You'll never catch his ass lacking.

"Dinky fell down," he says easily, scooping you into his arms, "but he's fine! See? All okay!" His face doesn't even twitch from all his wounds getting aggravated. There is shrapnel embedded in his back from being thrown through a window and tumbling down the roof. The broken-off blade of a knife is jammed up in his thigh. His right hand has lost all feeling in it from blocking a pipe getting swung at him. There are black spots in his vision. He's lost so much blood it's nothing short of divine intervention keeping him conscious.

You'd bet your ass if you need him to go sprint a 10k right now, though, he's lacing up his tennis shoes.

3. Tim

"Timmy, what wrong?"

He's gonna tell you the truth, and he's the only one that'll tell you the truth. He'll just omit the gorey bits because they're not beneficial to you.

"Oh, this? Bad guy got me good with his knife. It hurts a lot so don't touch it... I just said don't touch it...okay fine, go wash your hands first before you touch it."

He didn't like being kept out of the loop as a child, especially a child that had to raise himself, so he tells you about anything and everything you ask. He'll tell you what medical supplies he's grabbing and why. He'll tell you his estimated recovery time. He'll tell you what wounds the others have, if any. He'll let you touch the safe tools, like gauze and bandages and antibiotic ointment. He'll show you how to apply them, too, and then quickly take you to the sink to wash the blood from your hands.

4. Jason

"Jay-Jay ouchies?"

He's the most unintentionally awkward about it. I think being brought back to life in the Lazarus Pit really fucked up his ability to feel pain. The major injuries still sting — gunshots, stabs, broken bones — but bruises and black eyes and sprains fly under the radar very often.

"Uh, no," he shrugs, looking at the myriad of colorful bruising you just pointed out on his arm. "No ouchies." He's not exactly lying, it doesn't hurt, but it is very clearly an injury. This confuses and upsets you often.

5. Damian

"Dami got a booboo?"

He's lying every single time. He's your older brother. He's a dangerous killing machine. His skill and combat prowess are unmatched. He needs you to think he's incredible and amazing and cool.

"Those half-wit simpletons could never dream of landing a hit on me. Any blood on my clothes is simply not mine."

One of the goons actually clipped his side with a bullet and it really, really hurts. His hands are flexing and he's got sweat running down his neck from the pain. He would actually rather die than let you know that, though.

[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….”

[taojjang]

𐙚 a cold... on christmas?! ᯓ riize when you catch a cold before the holidays

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ advent calendar, day three! pairing: bf!riize x reader, genre: fluffy fluff, warnings: sickness and medication!

made this cus i have the immune system of a victorian child and i need reassurance that i won't die alone in my sleep one day

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　⋆ ˚ ۪ ⋆ ୨୧

shotaro . . .

taro would be super devastated that he can't live christmas with you to the fullest :( even though it's such an important time to be together, you forbade him from coming over because you don't want to ruin his holiday season by getting him sick. but of course, that won't stop him from giving you the best christmas you could ask for.

on christmas morning, you wake up to taro leaving soft kisses on your cheek. "baby, why are you here? i told you not to come." taro giggles and lies right beside you, pulling you into his arms. "how could i leave you all alone on christmas?" your heart melts in an instant and you leave a long kiss on his lips. taro brushes the hair away from your face and asks, "how do you feel, honey? should we exchange gifts after you take medicine?" taro is truly the sweetest :(

eunseok . . .

eunseok is practically your personal nurse with how often he takes care of you and gives you medical advice— constantly scolding you for not wearing gloves during cold days or for going out without completely drying your hair. though it's overbearing at times, you can't deny he's the sweetest boyfriend for looking after you.

eunseok can't stand seeing you so down. he's typically the person to take care of you when you're sick, but seeing you in so much pain during the happiest time of the year takes a toll on him. yet no matter how terrible your condition is, eunseok is going to find a way to make things fun. he would come into your room beaming from ear to ear, excitedly telling you he had an early christmas present for you. turns out it was just your antibiotics wrapped in paper and a bow... "surprise!" "go to hell..." all jokes aside, he'd wake you up on christmas morning with breakfast in bed and he'd bring all the gifts to you so you wouldn't have to get up <3

sungchan . . .

whenever you're in pain, sungchan is in pain too. he can't stand seeing you so weak and uncomfortable :( whenever you're sick, he's always coming home from work with your favorite food or whatever you're craving and he'd never dismiss a request of yours. even when you're not sick, channie is always spoiling you with everything you could ask for.

so of course, nothing differs when you catch a cold on christmas. sungchan would spoil you rotten once you fall sick. he feels utterly useless seeing you so gloomy during the holidays, so he'd try anything to lift your spirits. and that's when he reaches his master plan— an advent calendar! from now til christmas morning, he'd come home with a new gift each day. the gifts range from pretty necklaces and shiny shoes to simply your favorite snacks. sungchan truly knows you in and out <3

"you don't have to do this, baby."

"anything for my princess!"

wonbin . . .

wonbin is so used to being on the receiving end of all the pampering and attention, so when it's his turn, he gets so self conscious :( when you're sick, he'd treat you as if your bones were built of glass, holding you so delicately and kissing your sickness away. but he knew he'd have to do much more once you grew sick before christmas.

once you tell him you don't feel well, he'd go out on a hunt to grab every medication possible. once he returns, he'd rush to your side and remain there for hours and hours. he'd never ever leave you alone, waiting around for you to tell him what you need. he'd work endlessly toward your recovery before christmas day: taking you to the doctor and taking so many precautions to keep you safe (though it's only a common cold..). but when you're still not feeling well on christmas eve, he pulls all stops and simply focuses on making you happy. he bakes little christmas cookies for you and cuddles you to sleep, telling you how lucky he is to be able to spend christmas with you :(

seunghan . . .

seunghan is absolutely crushed whenever you're feeling down, let alone sick. as your personal cheerleader, how could he cheer you on when you're dying of a common cold?!

but of course, genius hong always finds a way to make you smile. though his heart was shattered when he heard you were sick only three days before christmas, he knew he had to spring into action asap. so he got you a silly little elf on the shelf! on the first morning, you woke up to an elf lying beside you: he was tucked under the covers with a brand new teddy bear for you. the second morning, the elf greeted you in the bathroom, sitting in a toilet paper igloo on the counter, holding onto your toothbrush. finally, on christmas morning, the elf was sitting on your bedside table with a huge bouquet for you, having a note telling you how lovely you look while you're sleeping :(

"angel! did you like the elf's gift this morning?"

"of course! he's just a bit.. creepy."

sohee . . .

you and sohee often remain independent, rarely complaining about serious things. your relationship is simply chill: never any drama, just vibes. but sohee can't remain mysterious and nonchalant when you're coughing like an old man beside him.

when you tell him you haven't been feeling good, he furrows his eyebrows and yelps, "during christmas?!" sohee's been planning so many fun christmas dates yet you're sick?! gosh, he's conflicted. he remains calm and collected, but now he has to plan out an entire new holiday itinerary. but do not fret, for sohee is your smart boy! the next day, sohee sets up a little bed fort and makes it super comfy, making sure not to forget the humidifier to keep you warm. you laugh, reaching out to hug the dork in front of you.

"you're the cutest, sohee."

"we can watch movies together here! if we can't go out and have fun, we might as well have fun together here!"

anton . . .

when it comes to you, anton is the most empathetic boy ever. after all, you're the light of his life. whatever you're feeling, he's feeling it ten times stronger for you. you're sad? he's crying beside you. you're mad? he's breaking pencils in the corner of his room. you're sick? he is on his knees hurling at the thought of you being in pain.

anton would be so utterly heartbroken seeing you sick during his favorite time of the year </3 poor baby had so many things planned for the two of you.. :( anton would rot in bed with you, cuddling you and kissing your worries away (though he'd be much more worried about you). he'd probably buy a few late christmas gifts just to make you feel better. the day you'd get sick, he'd even allow you to open a gift early to get your spirits up.

"thank you, tonie! you're truly the best :("

"of course, my love! i just need you to get better soon before i explode :)"

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　⋆ ˚ ۪ ⋆ ୨୧

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ tag list! (send an ask to be added!)

@endtostartbreathin @gacktsa @hanninova

[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

[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

[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

[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!!!

[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.”