This is maybe a bit specific and maybe a self roast but I want an ED storyline for Stevie. I think we have a lot of the âI want to be thinnerâ ED stories on TV but after everything thatâs happened to her over the last few years I wanna see an ED storyline where the person at the centre has always previously been confident about their attractiveness and body.
I just think it would be so interesting to see her give into the chaos of the department and itâs fine because âwe all skip lunch every now and againâ and then she stops eating breakfast and she canât explain why and then she starts to skip dinner the nights that she has a really hard day and then she starts to lose a bit of weight and someone notices and mentions it and she brushes it off. Maybe faith starts offering her snacks assuming itâs just because sheâs busy. Maybe Dylan notices heâs seen her all the times she should have eaten that day and sheâs not eaten anything at all.
Basically I just really want to see that conversation where someone asks her if she thinks she looks better like this because she actually just looks gaunt and sheâs worrying everyone and have her shout that itâs not about being thin itâs about having control over something. Stevieâs had so many things happen TO her, completely out of her control, in quite a short space of time and I feel like this would make so much sense for her!
You decide to complain to your best friend, Amelia, about your unsatisfactory sexual history with men. And in doing so, make her extremely determined to show you how good sex can be. Oh, and that youâre not as straight as you thought.
(F/F, Amelia Shepherd x femreader, best friends to lovers type beat but also this is just straight smut with no romance, 2.4K words)
You huffed as you sat down on the couch, throwing your head dramatically on the back of it. You always were known for having flair. Amelia walked into the lounge and chuckled as she saw you star-fishing on the couch, clearly annoyed.
âWhatâs up your ass?â She hummed, walking over to the coffee machine.
âNot enough.â You murmured back, draping an arm over your face.
You heard her snicker by the coffee machine. âWow.â
âI miss sex.â You huffed and picked your head back up, watching as she made her way around the couches to sit on the one opposite you, sipping her coffee. âThe good kind.â You continued, then chuckled humourlessly. âNot that that kind even exists. Seriously, why canât one guy make me come? Not one! Itâs ridiculous.â
Amelia was just smiling knowingly, sat there, almost looking amused. She sighed and leaned back, clearly entertained by your first-world problem. âYou ever tried being with a woman?â
Your eyes widened and you let out a shocked, slightly bewildered laugh. âIâm not gay.â
âYou would be.â
âI would be?â You were a little offended.
âYeah.â She shrugged and smiled. âYou donât feel satisfied with men. A woman knows how to get the job done. Why do you think I only started to date women after sleeping with one?â
You let out another chuckle. âBecause youâre actually queer. Iâm not. Trust me, I know.â
âYouâve never tried it.â
âYeah but I donât have to try it to-â
âYouâd so easily fall into queerness if you had sex with a woman.â
You scoffed. âWhat evidence do you have for that?â
âIf no man has ever, ever made you come⊠not even the hottest one youâve been with⊠then the problem isnât with their technique, itâs with their⊠maleness.â
You raised an eyebrow.
She chuckled and continued. âSeriously. Try sleeping with a woman. Just once. Canât be worse than the sex youâve already had right?â
That got your interest. Because it was true. Youâve had some pretty terrible sex, and nothing could really beat the one time a guy put it in the wrong hole and kept going. (Ouch).
You sighed and rubbed your face.
âOh and just look at yourself.â
âWhat?â You picked up your head, a frown of confusion crossing your features.
She gestured to you. âLook at how youâre sat and tell me youâre a straight woman.â
You slowly adjusted the man-spread you were comfortably showcasing into a more ladylike position by crossing one leg over another, but you were blushing by the truth of that statement.
You thought for a moment, as Amelia sipped her coffee. Then, relenting a little, you clicked your tongue and spoke. âOkay, but where would I find a woman to sleep with anyway? I need someone whoâs okay with it being my first time, and is okay with being used as an experiment, and isnât weird or unattractive or inexperienced or-â
âYouâre looking at her.â Amelia smirked.
Your heart stuttered for a second. âNo.â
âNo?â She chuckled. âOh come on, Iâm the perfect girl. Iâm experienced, you trust me, I know everything I need to know, and well⊠Iâm pretty hot.â
You considered it. For a moment. âNo! No! No, absolutely not. Youâre- no. No. No. End of. No.â
~~~
The back of your head collided with the wall as Amelia pushed you up against it, her lips attached to yours in a heated, messy kiss. You moaned into her mouth, your hands climbing up her shirt.
Okay.
So you initially said no. And you meant it. But you thought about it. And thought about it. And you realised you were kind of desperate for sex. Desperate enough to sleep with your best friend anyway. What was the point of resisting when Amelia was so clearly down?
You expected it to feel awkward, but the second her lips met yours, a prickle of fire erupted across your skin. One you hadnât felt⊠maybe ever.
And now here you were, with Ameliaâs hands under your top, her mouth on yours.
Her lips trailed off to the side, kissing along your jaw. And damn, her lips were soft. You threw your head back against the wall with a soft thud, a moan leaving your lips. You barely started, and you already felt yourself dripping steadily into your underwear. You blamed it on being desperate for sex. Not because you were gay. Because you werenât.
She kissed down your neck and you grasped at the skin of her back, your legs starting to shake. âAmelia-â your strained voice managed to breathe out, because you were aching badly for it.
âI know.â She murmured into your neck, before pulling back, and taking you towards her bedroom as clothes started to come off. She pushed you onto the bad, so you were sat on the edge of it, and she straddled your lap. Your hands were shaking at an embarrassing intensity as you tried (and failed) to take her bra off. âDamn it.â You muttered.
She chuckled, and removed her own bra, letting it fall to the floor. All of a sudden, you had boobs in your face. And you got a little bit distracted. They were really nice. She raised an eyebrow at you. âYou still with me, space cadet?â
You blinked yourself back into reality, and another wave of heat washed over you as you remembered what was happening. âYeah.â You breathed out. And you both continued stripping until you were both bare.
You somehow ended up horizontally, although you donât remember how. Your hands glided across her smooth skin, the hair on her body softer than what you were used to with men. Her skin was softer too. And where youâd previously find ridges with men, you found curves with her. All of her was soft. And warm. It was a stark contrast. But one you eagerly took in.
You leaned up and kissed her, hand finding the back of her head. She kissed back, hard. Her tongue swiped over your bottom lip and you parted them to let your tongues gently meet in the middle. You let out a sharp exhale, and heard her almost laugh in response. Her hands trailed up your body before they firmly grabbed your boobs and her thumbs brushed over your nipples. The shot of pleasure that ran through you caused you to arch off the bad in an almost paranormal way. You moaned deeply into the kiss, and she hummed and smiled in appreciation at the sound. You pulled away, panting like a dog. âAmelia, I swear to fucking god.â
She grinned, her nose nuzzling your cheek. âStill straight?â
âShut up and-â but before you could finish, you felt the light but powerful touch of her middle finger running up your folds and clit. You shuddered and started to breathe even heavier, your toes curling.
âGive it to you? Oh I will. As long as you shut up and take it like a good girl.â
That had your mouth shut in surprise (and as much as you hated to admit it, obedience).
But you didnât have much time to think over it before her ring finger joined the mix and she started to circle your clit with slow, but confident motions.
You moaned softly, the sound closer to a whimper than anything. Your head fell back, eyes shutting. You felt her nuzzle your jaw with her nose, before she whispered. âIs this okay?â
The question caught you off guard. No guy had ever asked you anything close to that before. You blinked your eyes up at the ceiling, processing the question. After a few moments, you cleared your throat and spoke, tone equally as soft as Ameliaâs. âUh, yeah. Just⊠slightly bigger circles, maybe?â You blushed at your own words, feeling almost silly for directing your own pleasure like this, after being conditioned to believing itâs not important for so long.
She nodded against your neck, pressing a small kiss under your ear that you felt was a silent expression of âof courseâ, and her fingers broadened their motions a little.
Your hand instinctively reached for her wrist because god⊠you just wanted her to keep going forever. You bit your lip, your brows tensing with the overwhelming feeling of pleasure. Your head tipped further back, your chest rising and falling.
You couldnât believe it. You were actually being pleasured during sex. The thought alone made you groan.
Then you groaned again, but out of frustration. Because Amelia pulled her hand away. âWhat? I wasnât-â
âI know youâre not finished.â She chuckled as she started to kiss along your collarbones, her fingernails grazing up and down your thighs. âNeither am I.â
The absence of touch made the ache even worse, and you just wanted to whine and cry from frustration. But then you noticed her kisses were moving lower. And lower. She kissed between your breasts, then moved to one side. You looked down, hand moving to brush away her hair, when her lips suddenly attached to your nipple. You arched forward, your breath stuttering. âA-ah.â
âMm.â She hummed, her tongue swirling your nipple, making your clit swell and throb to intensities it never had before
âFuck-â you grunted softly, your breaths sharp. âPlease.â
You could tell she liked the plea spilling from your lips, because as she kissed down your stomach, her eyes looked up at you and the twinkle in them told you everything.
It was also positively the hottest thing youâd ever seen. Her hair flipped to one side, mouth busy as she kissed past your belly button, and the wild, pupil-blown look in her blue eyes made a particularly strong rush of electricity run through you. You nearly came at the sight.
Your hand tightened in her hair and you had to look away as she settled between your legs, looking up at the ceiling instead. Because you really didnât want a touch-less orgasm.
She paused for a moment. Not out of hesitation, but because she was studying you. Studying your pussy. Admiring it even. You glanced down, watching as her eyes roamed over it, before her gaze flicked back up to yours.
You gently ran a hand through her hair to signal that youâre ready. She gave you a smile, and leaned in.
The second you felt her tongue lick up, your nerves lit up. The moan that left your mouth was entirely accidental, and your legs shook as they attempted to clamp around her head.
She started off with soft. Slow. Teasing licks. And you felt yourself getting wetter and wetter with each one, your hand repeatedly tightening and relaxing in her hair.
Then she started to lick consistently. And rhythmically. And damn it, her tongue was warm and soft and so very talented. You knew the noises you were making were downright embarrassing, knew that the expression on your face was probably less than perfect, but oh you did not care. Not like you did with men. With men it was always a performance, and you were an actress. But with women? With Amelia? This wasnât acting. This was raw. This was real. And it felt so incredibly natural to you.
It was at about this point that you realised that yeah, you were definitely gay.
And if you didnât know at that point, you wouldâve known the next second when Amelia slid two fingers inside of you without warning, curling against your g-spot as if sheâd been inside you before.
You arched forward, feeling something hot leak down your legs, and moaned loud enough for it to echo off the walls. And speaking of walls, Amelia was kind of a genius at stimulating yours. She was a surgeon. So you knew sheâd be good with her hands, but you were still surprised at how her fingertips were gliding so perfectly, so smoothly against your g-spot. And mixed with the feeling of her equally-as-talented tongue on your clit, you knew you were seconds away. She knew it too. If the trembling of your body and the tension in between your legs was any indicationâŠ
She was gonna get the job done.
You only gave a soft whimper of warning before your whole world came crashing down around you. Youâd had self-inflicted orgasms before, but this was different. This was Earth-shattering.
You felt the dizzying rush of warmth erupt from your very core, spreading outwards, a surging tingle of release moving down your legs and up your torso at the same time. You could swear you felt it in every nerve of your body. You trembled so hard that the entire bed shook as the fireworks went off, unbearable in the best possible way. In fact, it was so all-consuming that you couldnât even breathe the first few seconds, but then you did. And when you did, a breathy, unholy moan left your lips.
And the orgasm just. Kept. Going.
You threw your head back, trying to hold onto any shred of reality, but realising you couldnât, you let go. Which just made the feeling even more intense. You didnât quite scream, but letâs just say your neighbours definitely complained. You didnât think it would ever end.
But then it did. Your body gave a few more convulsing twitches before you relaxed completely, breaths laboured. You felt a little dizzy. No, actually, completely dizzy. Your head was spinning. And the ecstasy gave way to a velvety feeling of relief through your entire body. You couldnât even lift a finger. You sighed, eyes shut. You felt Amelia slow her movements to a stop. You didnât open your eyes but you could hear her licking her own fingers clean, before you felt her move up and next to you.
Your eyes remained closed and you caught your breath slowly, feeling a buzzing sensation in your entire body. Ameliaâs soft fingertips brushed some hair off of your face, and you heard her chuckle. But it wasnât a chuckle of humour, it was a warm chuckle of affection. She spoke after a few moments, you could hear the smile in her voice. âYou okay?â
You sighed again, licking your dry lips. âIâm gay.â
She snickered, taken aback. âOh yeah, that much is obvious.â
You chuckled back, but weakly, because you were still blissed out. You blinked your eyes open, blurry gaze fixing on her.
She smiled down at you, her voice tender. âHi.â
Sighing, and feeling a rush of warm sensation that had nothing to do with sex, you replied with a quiet: âHi.â
Despite all of its flaws I do think itâs pretty cool that the overall message of the final episode of the nonnatus era was âyes, itâs sad that nonnatus house is closing and that so many of these characters are now moving on with their lives. Change is sad and can be difficult. However now we also have divorce, interracial marriage, unmarried pregnant women donât face the same stigmatisation as they used to, gay people can live more openly than ever before and technological advances are making life easier for disabled people. So really we donât have that much to complain about.â
my favorite trope is "i would kill for you but you make me want to be gentle." hobbies include baking, rewatching old comfort shows, and daydreaming instead of sleeping. i'm disabled, bi, and trying really hard to find joy in small things. touch and quality time are my love languages. would love a match from grey's, any gender!
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Your match is Amelia Shepherd.
There's something about you that makes me think she'd soften in ways she didn't expect. She's seen enough darkness to understand yours without needing you to explain it, and she'd never ask you to be lighter than you feel. But she'd want to make things gentler for you anywayâwithout pressure, just this quiet urge to meet your pain with care. And you? You'd be the person who reminds her that softness isn't weakness, it's a choice. She'd kill for you, sure. But she'd also peel clementines for you in bed, put your favorite show on without asking, and stand beside you in the kitchen just to be near you while you bake.
You both live in your heads a lotâhers is louder, yours maybe more wistfulâbut there's a kind of calm you'd create together. She'd love your daydreams, your rituals, your exact taste in comfort TV. Your love languages would work almost too well: she craves connection and anchoring, and you'd give her that just by letting her in. There's something sacred in how you move through the worldâlooking for joy in tiny, defiant waysâand she'd never take that for granted. Not once.
She'd be your "I see it too" person. And I think you'd make each other feel safe in a way that lasts.
I think the magic of Call the Midwife is that you have a group of women all in different stages of life, who support each other and have fulfilling careers that they love.
Like you can see and feel the passion for what they do on every call they go on.
Bonus is that they aren't struggling to survive doing what they love
Narrator: In Autumn, all souls feel the rot but the rot allows flowers to grow and spring will come again. The war absolutely hollowed out communities but also there was jam. Nonnatus house had nuns in it but they were cool nuns. As the weather turned, those in need were ever more vulnerable and we did what we could.
Trixie: I cannot fix this with rouge, Matthew *perky hair toss*
Sister Monica Joan: Aristotle had heard of glaucoma, why won't anybody listen to me, also I've sat on the swiss roll.
Sister Julienne: Nonnatus house may be repossessed/ demolished/ infested with weevils. Our future is uncertain, but damnit the women of Poplar need us.
The Irish One: I love coloured tights but also I've done the autoclave
Harrowing music begins as we watch an unwed teen mother/ man addicted to meth/ victim of some sort of domestic horror/ woman with pre-ecclampsia
Nurse Crane: There you go lass
Harrowing storyline is briefly featured again but also there's a pregnant dog in Nonnatus House.
Dr Turner: Let's give her Pethidine, also I'm progressive about (insert topical issue here)
Sister Julienne: Nonnatus House is a metaphor for the morals of this country and that's why we're going to the dogs
Random Nurse: Actually sister Julienne I think we should teach teenagers about contraception
Sister Monica Joan: We simply must have compline now
Compline and the harrowing storyline (which has now reached its apex through either a harrowing birth scene or some other medical procedure) are now interspersed in a way that is troublingly close to saying suffering is fine actually because Jesus.
Sheelagh: Oh Patrick
The harrowing storyline is now resolved, often with some more voiceover that references the vagaries of the turning world
Trixie: Matthew, I have solved it. And I have put on rouge. I can have it all except a consistent haircut.
Fred: The dog's had puppies, and this will save Nonnatus house.
Narrator: In the worst and dank places, in the creeping dread of the dark soil and the night loam, even as the rotting leaves seep in, there too is love and life. Also someone had a revelation. The end.
Sister Julienne: I'm worried about Sister Monica Joan, she's barely eating and she keeps talking about her mother
Sister Monica Joan: I am undoubtedly dying!
random woman: I'm eight months pregnant and decades of family drama is coming to a head! Also my husband/mother/sister is ill.
*nuns singing montage*
*Fred pops up out of nowhere* Does anyone want a pork pie? I'm selling pork pies now.
Dr Turner, lighting a cigarette: I'm fine with gay people and I love vaccines
Timothy, smugly: if only they could invent a vaccine for homophobia.
Shelagh, rifling through medical paperwork: I think there's something wrong with random woman's husband/mother/sister. Please don't ask how I ever have time to raise my children.
*sixties pop music montage!*
*random woman gives birth, it's either a girl or a boy*
At the very sweet age of fourteen, you were diagnosed with depression, right after Diane, your psychologist at the time, diagnosed you with what you still call your cruel companion, a little disorder that was actually slowly killing you from the inside out until just a few minutes ago. In fact, you have nothing to lose now. In fact, a few Tolep, Zoloft, and Xanax will knock you out in a few moments - very few - if only you have the courage to throw them in your stomach right now.
Even though you have nothing left to lose, there are two people you could never hurt, and the mere thought of hurting them makes you sick. Maya and Carina, damn them, have gotten inside you and torn down your walls like no one else ever could. And now, in the utter desperation that drives you to the "extreme act," you should feel guilty, and yet you don't. Maybe it's the pills, or maybe it's the sense of freedom you're feeling that's clouding all your other thoughts and feelings.
Carina was the first to notice your OCD, only a month into your relationship. Although you never tried to hide it from either of your girls, there were rituals that they never had a chance to see, such as touching the faucet knob three times before you could open it, checking three times to make sure that all the car doors were closed, or putting on your seat belt three times before you were sure that you had finally buckled it properly and that this would not result in a potential and very likely fatal accident involving your two girls. In short, Carina had discovered all of this by carefully observing your habits, and after discussing it with Maya, the two of them had confronted you. That evening was anything but pleasant.
As for the depression, they noticed it over time, with the bad days and the dull eyes that worried them so much that they practically forced you to go to weekly sessions with your child psychologist, Diane, who of course immediately put you back on medication on the advice of a psychiatrist Carina knew. In the early days, whenever you were down, it was hard for me to leave you alone, and even though they tried to hide it, you always noticed. Always. It was only after a year and a few months that her fear began to subside. When you think about it, you almost laugh; right now, that fear of a possible impulsive and fatal act on your part would probably be your salvation. Not that you would want that, of course. Or maybe...no, you don't want to be saved. You have hit rock bottom; the decision is already made and the plan is already in place.
Most likely, Carina will be the one to find you, right? She is the first to return to your apartment after work, to the small but comfortable apartment you have been calling home for more than four yearsâto that little place of paradise where all problems disappear, or at least, they seem to. But, as it turns out, they never completely disappear; otherwise, you would not be in this situation. You close your eyes and lean your head against the bathroom wall; the cold marble tiles send a chill up your spine as you stare at what you clutch in your right handâa handful of pills that you have been preparing for months now. Many people say suicide is an impulsive act, but for a person with OCD? Nothing is impulsive, not even suicide. Everything is meticulously calculated and planned. You have been planning this day for monthsâat least three, if I am not mistaken. Of course, it's always three. After all, multiples of three are your favorites, aren't they?
Throughout your life, you have had to make hard choices, but this is by far the most selfish. You are aware of it; you know that Maya and Carina will suffer as they never have; you know it because if either of them died in any way, especially in this way, you would never, ever be able to go on living with such emptiness inside.
A trembling breath escapes your lips; you cannot back out, not now, not when you are so close to the goal. You owe it to yourself, you owe it to them and the burden you are to the world. It sounds self-centered on your part but you don't give a shit anymore. You're tired of thinking about others, how they're going to feel, what you have to say to keep them from feeling bad...you're tired, of everything. You thought you could live for them but you were wrong. But maybe, if you really have to be honest with yourself you probably never wanted to go all the way. After all, a person who does not want to be saved is very difficult to help. When therapy doesn't work, you change, but you didn't say anything; you kept smiling again and again until, today, in the last three months, you let the rock you had tied to your ankle drag you to the bottom. It is no one's fault but your own. You're more than aware of it but it's so hard to keep going, it's so fucking hard that you get sick to your stomach just thinking that, in case you don't take these damn pills tonight, you'll be forced to face the world out there once again. No, you can't do it, you can't. Yet, Carina's look at Andrew's death and the Italian's despair and Maya's heartbroken look and her self-destruction after Dean's death...No! You can't think and you don't have to think about them, about the pain you will cause them and from which they can never move on. You can already see Maya, her head in her hands, sitting on the couch on which so many nights you have spent together, blaming herself for not seeing the signs, for not noticing your clouds; you can already see Carina's tears and hear her screams muffled by the sound of the siren of the truck of the 19âs Station.
A small and elusive tear slips down your cheek, sliding down your chin before falling on the letter you hold in your left hand. The usual "it's not your fault, you have to move on, I love you" letter You're such a hypocrite; you're fucking disgusting. If only you could swallow those pills without thinking about the two of them.
The sound of your phone ringing echoes through the bathroom, startling you so much that the pills you were holding tightly in your hand scatter on the floor.
You pick up the pills, letting your phone ring. Again and again, until, finally, it stops and goes to voicemail.
Â
"Hey Bambina, I forgot my keys. I know, I know, you and Maya are always telling me that if it wasn't because I have it attached, I'd be able to lose my mind too, but can you do me a favor? Leave the keys on the door because I'm parking right now and I don't want to ring the doorbell or Max will glare and the neighbors will complain."
A small laugh escapes the Italian's lips as she greets you with an "I love you." God, how you love that laugh.
And, just as Max has heard the voice of his favorite mistress, he joins you in the bathroom and starts sniffing the pills on the floor. You open your eyes wide, awakening from your trance-like state, and shoo him away ungently before quickly picking up all the pills. You hold them in your hand, clutching them as if they were the most important thing in the world, and hide them in your pants pocket.
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Panic grips your chest as you realize that all your plans are blown and you will now have to start over. You mentally repeat to yourself if you have performed all your rituals: if you have touched the doorknob three times, given Max the kibble by placing it three at a time in the bowl before putting it down, washed your hands for twelve seconds three times after eating, you have done nothing wrong, yet fate has screwed you over, so you must have done something wrong; there is no other way, not for your brain at least. After all, it's hard to reason rationally with OCD.
You don't even realize that you have opened the front door for Carina as you feel that, slowly, your panic attack is taking you deeper. It's one you haven't had in a long time. Your heart almost seems to explode in your chest. You put your hand on it, feeling the force with which it beats against your rib cage. You're so focused on the simple act of breathing that you don't notice Max scratching at your leg to try to get your attention, nor the door opening. Carina enters the apartment, and the smile on her face quickly fades as she sees Max whimper against your leg and your chest rise and fall all too quickly.
Carina lets her bag slide to the ground before letting herself fall to her knees in front of you. Her eyes scrutinize you with concern, trying to figure out how long you have been in this state or whether you hurt yourself unconsciously during the panic attack.
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"Bambina, look at me." Carina takes your face in her hands, stroking your cheeks gently. "Hey, hey, eyes on me. You need to breathe, okay? Breathe love."
You feel the warmth of her hands on your cheeks, but although you see her lips moving, you don't actually feel anything. The only sound you can hear is that of your heart practically exploding.
You pull away from his touch, and your breathing becomes even faster. His voice comes muffled to your ears.
"No, no, no, hey, hey, eyes on me. Y/n...love, you need to breathe. It's okay; I'm here with you; you're not alone. Bambina breathe."
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The urgency in Carina's voice makes you barely look up, but your panic attack doesn't stop; in fact, it keeps getting worse. Carina runs a hand through her hair, thinking about what to do and coming up with the only possible solution.
"I'm going to pick you up now, okay? I'm sorry, Bambina, but I have to; it's for your own good."
The doctor takes you in her arms despite your protests, carries you into the bathroom, and puts you in the shower before opening the cold jet by entering with you and holding you tightly in her arms so you don't fall out.
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The cold jet hits you with the same brutality as that of a high-speed train. You gasp, trying to pull away, but Carina won't let you. She holds you close to her as you come completely out of your panic attackânot until about fifteen minutes under the cold jet, though.
"Here they are, the eyes I love so much," Carina whispers softly against your temple, leaving you a kiss and then covering you with a towel, trying to get you dry as quickly as possible. You let Carina undress you, put on clean, dry clothes, and then begin drying your hair with such a gentle amount of gentleness that it almost makes you cry.
Out of the corner of your eye, you watch the bathroom, thinking about how that night should have been different, especially for your girls. Your eyes widen when you see the letter you carelessly abandoned on the bathroom floor, reminding you that Carina might very well read the letter if she only noticed it. That simple and seemingly innocuous thought almost gives you another panic attack.
You jerk up, not thinking straight, not thinking that this strange behavior of yours will draw Carina's attention to you any more than it already did with your panic attack. You bend down, under the confused gaze of the Italian doctor, and pick up the letter, then flush it down the toilet. Your hands tremble as you do so, and Carina notices.
The doctor picks up your wet clothes from the floor and is about to throw them into the dirty, striped laundry basket that Maya was so insistent that you keep in the bathroom, but she does not. Her fingers graze a small bulge in the right pocket of your shorts. The Italian frowns, not recognizing, through her density, the thing to which that small bump is due. So she just sticks her hand in the pocket, and you are far too devolved and paranoid about the letter to notice what she is doing; in fact, you don't even try to stop her. When Carina pulls her hand out of her pocket, your heart leaps and almost seems to stop. The cold water has succeeded in bringing you out of your panic attack but has failed to completely dissolve the pills, much to your misfortune. Carina holds that shapeless, disgusting slop in her hands; it takes her a few seconds to realize it's pills. And though she wants to deny it to herself, it takes her even less time to realize what you were about to do.
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"Please tell me this is not what I think. Please y/n."
You don't have the courage to answer her; who would have any? You feel so stupid right now. Carina starts sobbing, sitting on the floor. You lean your back against the wall and shake your head over and over again, clutching your hair in the fingers of your left hand as if to convince yourself that this is not real. When you do not answer, Carina gets her answer; silence is tacit consent, and you both know this very well.
You kneel in front of your girlfriend; you take her hands in yours, gently stroking her knuckles.
"Car, car, look at me. It's okay, I'm here.â
She shakes her head, reaching out to you and holding you in her arms. As she traps you in her grip, she cannot control the sobs that shake her body.
"I'm so sorry I didn't notice; I'm so sorry, my love..."
"Car, don't say that, please. It's not your fault or Maya's fault; everything is just too much sometimes, often, almost always. And I love you so much, but I can't take it. I don't see any other solution, Carina."
Your voice breaks as you say this; as bad as it is to admit, you feel relieved. You have felt this thought oppressing your chest for so long, and now that you have revealed it, you finally feel free of the unbearable boulder you have been forced to bear for months.
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Carina remains silent, merely holding you tightly to her and stroking your hair. She hides her face in the space between your shoulder and jaw, inhaling deeply of your scent. The Italian trembles only at the thought that she could no longer have snuggled into your warm embrace if you had done what you intended to do more than an hour ago. With a shuddering breath and without letting go of you, Carina slips her own phone out of the pocket of the tight-fitting Levis jeans that you and Maya both approved of after an intense staring session focused on the beautiful backside of your beloved girlfriend.
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"Y/n, I know you'd like to do that, but we can't pretend it's not happening. I'd be safer getting you admitted."Carina freezes when she feels your body stiffen in her arms and your breathing become shorter. "But I don't want you to do anything that doesn't make you feel comfortable, so this is completely your decision. Of course, if you're going to stay at home, we'll have to set some rules here."
Carina whispers in your ear, pulling away just enough to look into your eyes and brush a strand of unruly hair away from your face.
"Whatever you choose, we both know that Maya must be aware of everything you are feeling and happening to you; she better than anyone can understand what you are feeling, Bambina."
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Carina watches you carefully, and when you open your mouth to protest and to tell her that you don't want to give them any additional weight and that Maya already has a lot to do with her role at the station, she stops you immediately, shaking her head firmly.
"No, this will not be questioned. I will call her now and tell her to go home because we need her. Our jobs are not more important than yours; don't ever think that."
The doctor leaves a kiss on your temple before getting up and leaving the bathroom to make the call. She doesn't close the door; the terror and knot in her stomach she feels at even the thought of leaving you alone won't let her. She is terrified that your mind will get the better of you, especially after today, after a few moments when you were about to commit madness.
The phone call is brief and coincidental; Carina doesn't say too much, just talking about the panic attack. She doesn't want Maya to drive home with the same fear she is feeling right now. As soon as the call ends and Maya assures you of her return to your apartment in less than a quarter of an hour, Carina's arms encircle your sides again, and your embrace squeezes you just as it did moments before. She definitely has no intention of letting you go.
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A little sneeze on your part makes you both gasp and realize that your hair is still partially wet. Although you insist on drying it yourself, Carina won't let you; she is more than happy to do it for you, and right now she needs to be with you as long as possible. Before you know it, Max is waving goodbye to his favorite mistress as well as his lieutenant.
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"Hi, boy, where are your moms?" Maya smiles, patting the small German shepherd puppy on the head before heading toward the only lit room. The sight that greets Maya as soon as she enters your bedroom is what makes her dream at night: Carina with her arms around your hips, holding you close, wearing only a white shirt and black lace underwear, spooning you from behind.
"Hey, I'm home. What happened, baby?"
You feel the mattress lower as soon as Maya sits down on it. The blonde firefighter strokes your arm gently and smiles at you. She is worried about you but tries to hide it as best as she can. Of course, both you and Carina notice; the blonde cannot hide anything from you after all these years.
You remain silent, avoiding answering that very difficult question. You are actually very tired and ashamed, not daring to look up and look at one of the loves of your life as you confess to her that missed act.
Carina leaves you a kiss on the temple before leaving her grip on you, though with great effort. You watch her get out of bed and drag Maya out of the room, knocking on the door.
When the light fails so much that you can't even draw the contours of the candlestick over your head, you release the breath you've held up until that moment. You're sorry; you're embarrassed, of course, but not for the reason that your girls might think... no, don't be ashamed to have tried and to want to try; I hate you for not having succeeded. You are so angry with yourself; you are more than aware of the fact that that feeling of freedom you experienced before will never return, not with the burden that now oppresses your chest for the bitterness of being discovered and of not having completed what should have been done instead.
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Silent tears dig your zigoms before ending up on the sides of the pillow; bed covers rise and fall at the same time as your chest. For a moment, just for a moment, you close your eyes and tell yourself that all this has never happened, that Carina has not found the pills, and that you have succeeded in your attempt to eliminate yourself once for all from the face of the planet. But when the light that returns to embrace the room and the light of the door that is again opened make you open your eyes, the dream disappears in the same way that an oasis in the desert turns out to be only a hallucination, nothing more.
You're watching Maya. Her eyes are glossy, her lips are rosy, and she can't stand still, moving her weight from one foot to the other. Carina returns to the same position in which you were before the arrival of the other girl and as soon as she does it, the relief of the Italian being close again and of your warm skin in contact with her makes her relax immediately. It feels like the moment she left the room, she stopped breathing, and now, finally, she can do it again.
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Maya lies in front of you, leans her forehead against yours, and gently caresses your face.
"I would like to take away the feeling of emptiness that you are feeling right now," her whispering words resonate in the room as you are wrapped in the heat emanating from both their bodies. "I wish to be able to do so because I know this burden my love, and it is not something I would ever want to see in you, in either of you two."
Some tears tear her cheeks, but Maya dries them quickly, not because she doesn't want to be weak but because she is well aware that you need all her support right now. She'll cry later, when your eyes are closed in a sweet sleep, and she'll be sure you're still here, with her, with them.
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âI donât want you to pursue the clouds like I did y/n; clouds can seem beautiful, sweet, and soft, but remember that itâs clouds that carry the stormy, my love, and we canât lose our sun because Iâm afraid that clouds would swallow us up without your light.â
The firefighter caresses your face with the same care and delicacy with which someone handle a brush on a candid white canvas.
Carina is just clinging to you; the knot in her throat prevents her from speaking, but even if you don't have the strength to tell him right now, the confidence that his arms around you give you is more than enough.
A long-held whimper shakes your chest, and your girls tighten you a little stronger, anchoring you to reality and not letting you escape and fly into your shady and irrational mind. You let go to a freeing cry, to whispers and weeping that, though necessary, break the hearts of your soulmates. And they let you blow up; they hold you back; they whisper sweet words followed by small, delicate kisses in your hair, cuddling you like you were a baby in a belt that's desperate as soon as she's born.
It takes more than ten minutes before you can calm down. Carina massages your back, softening the pain of the continuous whispers that have shaken your bones as Maya keeps kissing away your tears.
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"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I donât think I can do it without help itâs all too much." You take a break; everything youâre saying is hard to deal with, but say it out loud. Well, thatâs a whole other story. âRituals are killing me; Iâm not doing anything without thinking that something might go wrong, that you two might die because I am wrong about some stupid passage of the fucking and-â
"Hey, hey, it's all right. It's going to be all right; we'll be here at every step, Bella. We don't leave you alone; you're not alone, and you'll never be. We won't let you think of reaching the clouds again, okay? Never again, baby."âYour pain is our pain; your suffering is our suffering, until the end." Carina strings you even more, extending her hand towards Maya to tell her to do the same, and there, in their arms, it seems to you that you are away from all the problems of the world. You just feel like a number in an infinity of numbers; you feel like a thread in a lawn and there's something incredibly reassuring about being just a thread, because a thread is not responsible for all the evils in the world. (Cit. ZeroCalcare)
Thank you for reading! Was it hard to write? Yes, but it is also extremely liberating. I hope it will help some of you. Ah, and of course, have a great day!
Plot: Reader has an heatstroke caused by an intensive workout.
Maya Bishop x Carina DeLuca x reader
You can't stand the heat; youâve hated it since you were little, always. When summer came, you were happy just because school was over but, at the same time, you hated the forty degrees you had to endure every single day.
Then you became a professional soccer player and, having always played on teams up north, you never felt as hot as you did this season with the OL Reign. Although the Seattle Women's soccer Team has been a great benefit in your career, this scorching heat is truly terrible, especially since you are not used to it.
A small sigh leaves your lips as you grab your water bottle and tuck it into your backpack, ready to face a scorching workout in the ten o'clock morning sun.
"Good morning Bella, where are you going?" Carina hugs you from behind, her breasts pressing against your back as she fondles your butt with an amused smirk on her face.
"Car I'm on my way to practice and I'm already late ... as much as I would like to slam you against this table, unfortunately I can't."
You turn around, staying in her arms and kissing the tip of her nose with a smile.
Carina pouts, and after a few seconds, just long enough for her brain to work and understand what you've just told her, her gaze changes to a frown of confusion and concern at the same time.
"The weather alert has been issued, didn't you see it Bambina? You can't train in this heat, it's going to be 104° F out there..."
You sigh and shake your head slightly. You knew this conversation would happen, and you also know how it will end. Probably with a gorgeous, sexy Italian doctor very pissed off at you.
"Car, I can't miss another workout. Less than two weeks ago I was sick and couldn't train for almost a whole week, I can't miss any more days. I have to earn my place on the team, you know it's important to meâŠlike this"
Carina shakes her head several times, hard. She tortures her lower lip, clenching it between her teeth, and although you find it very sexy, the particularly pissed off look on the Italian's face gives you pause to comment on how hot she is when she does this.
"You'll get sick if you run in this heat. They can't make you train with a weather alert, Ăš sconsiderato e stupido. Cazzo."
Your lovely girl rants in her native language, and you foolishly fail to control yourself and let your eyes wander to the clock hanging on the wall behind the angry doctor.
You had never done that before.
"Are you really thinking you're going to be late? No way, you can't really think about going y/n. Ugh, who am I kidding? Of course you want to go, sometimes I think you're worse than Maya...you know what, fai come ti pare."
"Carina, wait-"
Before you can even try to stop her and reason with her, the brunette locks herself in your bedroom slamming the door and making the whole apartment shake.
You know her, you know that she just has to let the pissing go now. So, despite the knot in your stomach from the fight and with the excuse of giving her the space she needs, you bend down to pick up your duffel bag and then leave the apartment, stuffing your car keys into the left pocket of your shorts, ready to head to the soccer field.
After only an hour and a half of practice, you realize you've screwed up big time when you start to lose all feeling in your body and feel like you're floating on air. Your teammates are no better off than you are.
You cast a glance at Coach Harvey, praying that she will notice the terrible condition you are in but you doubt it. After all, she is sitting in the shade and with all this heat you doubt she is really watching you. At least, not today.
The ball is put back in the middle, after Clarke has scored one of her famous goals, and the coach blows her whistle. You run nonstop to get to Clarke's side; you cross the half-court line and are careful not to be offside as you pass the ball between you over and over again.
You don't know how but suddenly you are no longer in control of your body and your right foot ends up over the ball instead of to the side. In less than a second, you find yourself on the ground groaning in pain as soon as you hit the ground.
"Fuck."
You snort, wrinkling your nose and taking the hand offered to you without even understanding who is offering it to you. Octavia gives you a smile, although she can't really hide the worry on her face.
She helps you to your feet and puts a hand on your shoulder.
"You don't look so good, are you okay?"
Meanwhile, the other girls have taken the opportunity there to take a break and drink some water, and you don't blame them, especially considering that you still have another hour of training ahead of you.
Octavia Blake is many things but she is definitely not a quitter. Never.
"You're really hot y/n, are you sure you feel good?"
You don't answer her, you don't feel good at all, and you can't even understand her.
"I don't think Carina and Maya would agree, you know? I'll take you to them."
You don't really understand what she is saying, not at all. The heat clouds your mind; you run a hand over your forehead, you have the impression that you are dripping with sweat but actually you are not, your hand is completely dry when you pull it back.
Not good, not good at all. A cold shiver runs down your spine as you lean against Octavia making her support you even more and she is the one who supports you even more.
From that moment until she takes you to Station 19, you don't notice anything, just her shaking you from time to time as you go, calling your name several times as you continue to lose consciousness. The only time you realize you are at the station is when Andy and Vic help Octavia get you out of the car.
Theyâre probably calling your name but you can't answer; honestly, you don't even know how you are there, really.
You don't know how much time has passed, but you only begin to understand what is going on around you because of your Italian girlfriend's warm hands caressing your face.
"Bambina, bambina look at me. Are you okay? Can you hear me?"
Carina swipes a strand of wet hair from your forehead, bringing it behind your ear. The doctor pulls a small flashlight out of her gown, turns it on and holds it in front of your eyes while she holds your head still.
"Y/n, follow the light, honey. Follow the light, okay?"
You wrinkle your nose, and the nausea you have been feeling up to this point only increases as you are blinded by the flashlight.
You scan Carina with one arm, turn onto your side and vomit all the contents of your stomach onto the floor.
Carina strokes your back, trying to give you as much comfort as she can, while Andy shoves an IV of cold fluids into you.
"Andy, call Maya. I think the heat stroke is a lo worse than I thought. She's not even sweating..."
As soon as Carina sees Andy running down the hall to find your firegirl, she immediately turns to you and takes the thermometer out of Vic's hands. She sticks it in your mouth, even though you are not very cooperative, and waits for you to make the sound to check your temperature: 104° F.
Carina gasps and her heart stops for a few seconds; she is more than aware that such a temperature is very dangerous and could even make you convulse.
You start sobbing and try to reach Carina with clumsy and uncoordinated movements, seeking the comfort of a hug. You feel so bad that you do not realize what you are doing; it is as if you have no control over your body. Your confused state only makes the doctor more concerned.
"Bella we can't, your temperature is too high."
Carina bites her lip, trying not to cry. She wants to hold you in her arms but she canât.
"Car..."
Carina feels her heart stop when suddenly your eyes roll back and your body is suddenly shaken by convulsions.
"Damn it, no no no. Come back to me, Bella.â
Carina turns you on your side, pulling up the arms of the cot and takes care of your head.
"Vic, give her a 12-mg Diazepam drip!"
Vic goes to the station's medical supplies in a flash and rummages around until she finds what Carina asked for. She prepares the solution and inserts the IV into your left arm, which Carina says is your best arm for targeting veins.
In less than three minutes your body has stopped moving. Carina pulls your hair back from in front of your face and leaves a kiss on your forehead before unwinding the IV bag a bit to check the speed at which the drug is being administered.
"Carina!"
Maya Bishop, Captain of Station 19 as well as your girlfriend, comes running up to you. Concern fills her blue eyes that you love so much.
"What happened? Andy told me you were with her but she didn't tell me what it was about..."
Maya takes your hand between her own wincing in shock when she feels how much heat your skin is giving off.
"Shit, she's burning up. We have to get her to Grey's Sloan."
Carina and Maya exchange a glances. Carina twists her lower lip between her teeth and runs a hand through her hair. Both you and the blonde know that this gesture indicates that the brunette is very worried about something.
"No, you know how much she hates Bella hospitals. We can't, we can't do that to her. Let's take her to your office and use your shower to cool her down."
Maya leans over to take you in her arms but Carina stops her, shaking her head firmly.
"You have to be very careful Maya, we shouldn't even be moving her but we need to get her temperature down quickly. She had a seizure and I'm afraid she may still have another one.â
Carina whispers, her voice breaking as she thinks back to the feeling of a few moments ago. Maya takes a deep breath; she doesn't think she has ever been so scared in her entire life. She barely nods, taking you in her arms with such gentleness that she is surprised herself. Maya walks down the corridor to the door of her own office; Carina opens the door for you, and as soon as you cross the threshold, she closes it again.
The blonde firefighter lays you down on her bed, paying special attention to your head as Carina kneels beside you. She puts two fingers on your right wrist to check your pulse while looking at the clock on the wall.
"Pulse is dropping, we need to cool her down now, Maya-â
"Shit, she's seizing. Maya, help me!"
Carina turns you onto your side, removing the pillow from under your head and being very careful about the arm in which the IV needle is still stuck .
"Maya, Maya I need you to focus amore mio. She needs you; Maya look at me" Carina groans in frustration and concern for the blonde, watching her stand absolutely still in front of this horrible sight, "Maya!"
The firefighter blinks a few times before recovering from her shocked state and jumping into action. She lifts everything around that could hurt you and helps Carina hold you on your side so you don't choke on your own tongue.
It takes a good three interminable minutes before the seizure is over and Maya and Carina's arms ache from the force they had to use to hold you down.
"We're running out of time," Carina says, starting to remove off every layer of clothing but your underwear before taking you into her arms. Maya looks like a machine, she does everything Carina tells her to do - like turn on the shower, for example - but her eyes are blank, the Italian knows very well that the blonde is not in a good headspace right now but now the priority, as much as it hurts her to have to necessarily choose between the two of you, is you.
Maya turns on the tub's faucet and waits for it to fill. Carina steps in and slowly and gently losers you into the tub. You gasp, your eyes jerking open as your body feels the excessive change in temperature. A whimper escapes your lips as you try to pull away from the icy grip but firm hands hold you down, whispering excuses you don't want to hear right now.
"N-no, f-cold. I-I don't want to."
Chills run down your spine, making you whimper softly as you try to pulls your girls closer to you.
"I know Amore, I know... Shh, it's okay. You'll get better, you'll get better."
Carina rubs your back, somehow trying to comfort you without giving you too much heat.
The Italian puts her hand on your forehead, feeling that your temperature has dropped a bit.
"Maya I'm cold, I'm cold, I don't want to do this anymore. Please, I don't want to do this anymore."
The fever makes you start cry and your body is shaken by sobs that only make you feel worse.
Her name spoken by you make out of the near catatonic state she has been in.
âBaby, you need to calm down, this is not good for you okay? I promise it will be over soon but this way you are putting to much strain on your heart love. Please calm down."
Maya takes your hand and brings it to her own chest for you to follow her breathing and you do, unconsciously and maybe out of habit, but you do.
Carina keeps an eye on your heartbeat the whole time; her fingers never leaving your pulse for a moment, and her heart only seems to start beating again only when your pulse slows down and becomes stable again, at least for your current condition.
More than twenty minutes pass in the freezing water before you are finally covered with at least a T-shirt and then placed on the bed in Maya's office. Under cooling blankets, contrary to what you would have liked. Your mind is clearer and Carina and Maya are very relieved about that.
"What happened?"
Your voice is barely more than a whisper. You are struggling to find the words and your mouth feels as if it is stuck. It is also exhausting to talk right now, you can barely move your head towards them to look into their eyes as you speak.
"Heat stroke, Octavia brought you here Bella. You've had two convulsive episodes from a high fever. It's down now, but you're not out of the woods yet, so you need to rest."
Carina strokes your face as she points to the IV in your arm. As soon as you see it, you panic. You sit up and scratch your arm to pull the IV out. Under normal circumstances, you would think before you act but now, the delirium of heatstroke is just flying the last neurons you had.
"No no no, the press will go crazy with this news. I can't stay in the hospital, I have to get out of here; an OL soccer player in the hospital for heat stroke, n-"
Maya grabs your face and, to your and Carina's surprise, slaps you. Not so hard that it really hurts, but hard enough to bring you back to reality.
Although shock, fever, and heat stroke cloud your mind, you recognize where you are in a few moments.
"Oh...we're in your office."
You place the hand you were about to use to remove your IV at your side and give them a small apologetic smile.
"It's okay Bella, now get some rest. I'd like to keep you here a little longer for observation. Weâll take you home tonight, if all goes as it should."
Carina leans over you and plants a kiss on your lips, followed soon after by Maya.
"Now Maya and I will talk, you rest. Oh, and don't even think you've escaped the lecture. Itâs waiting for you as soon as you feel better.â
Carina smiles at you with a wink and then leaves the office followed by Maya. Not before the latter mimics you an "I love you" with her lips and mentally asks you to pray for her. Surely, Carina won't let her get over the slap she gave you a few minutes ago.
Hey, thanks for reading. I know it's not much and itâs not that good but it's better than nothing, right? Write a comment and tell me what you think. Have a nice day!
p.s: I wrote this because it's like thirty-five degrees in Italy and I'm dying :)
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