#// in updates: still sick but fever broke

[cagedharmony]

[makeitmingi]

In Sickness And In Health

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Comfort

Pairing: Seonghwa x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Doctor!Reader, Boyfriend!Seonghwa

Summary: Seonghwa has always been known to be the mother of the group, the one that takes care of everyone. But what happens when he falls ill? Luckily, his girlfriend is a doctor and will nurse him back to the health, just like he would for everyone else.

Word count: 4.7K

Story warning(s): Mentions of needle used for medical purposes, medications, being sick.

"Seonghwa?" You called out softly when you entered your shared house, closing the door behind you, but was replied with silence. You dropped your duffel bag onto the counter to take out the IV drip kit, fluid bag and medication.

Earlier at work...

"Hey, Hongjoong. Sorry I missed your call. What's up?" You called your boyfriend's best friend once the patient queue was freed up and you had a small break.

"Sorry to bother you, (y/n). I know you're working... Hwa's probably gonna kill me for telling you this but he's sick."

"Hwa's sick...? What do you mean?" Your eyes widened.

"Yeah, he knows you're on night shift and you know him, he never likes to have people take care of him... But he sounded quite bad over the phone and he didn't even let us to over to check on him..."

"Mhmm, I know exactly what you're talking about. Thanks for letting me know, Hongjoong. I'll go take care of him." You said.

"Let me know if you need anything."

"Thanks, I'll update you." You hummed and hung up with the captain before returning back to work.

So that's why, before you left work, you grabbed an IV drip set and all the necessary medications from the pharmacy that you may need to nurse Seonghwa back to health. Being a doctor has it's perks in that sense. And you were so worried about Seonghwa's condition that you ended up leaving your shift early.

"Seonghwa?" You poked your head into your shared room and was surprised the find the bed empty. You frowned, where did your sick boyfriend disappear to?

"Did he go out...?" You walked to your office and it was empty too. Then you checked the guest room.

"Oh, there you are." You sighed in relief.

On the bed of the guest room, there was a shivering lump under the blankets. You approached quietly and pulled back the covers, not wanting to surprise him too much.

"Seonghwa..." Your heart broke seeing Seonghwa so sick. He was shivering so much, lips quivering and cold sweat on his forehead.

"(y/n)?!" Seonghwa opened his eyes and was shocked to see you standing there.

"W-What are you doing home early? Did something happen?" He blinked, as if he was worried you were a hallucination caused by his fever. You could tell he was worrying about you.

"Hwa, stop worrying about me right now. I came home because I heard you were sick!" You frowned. Seonghwa cursed Hongjoong's name under his breath, knowing that only his best friend would rat him out to you like that.

"Come, let's get you back to bed. Why are you sleeping in the guest room?" You asked, pulling the blanket away to help him.

"Because I didn't want to spread my germs on our shared bed and I've been cold sweating. I'm so gross. You can't afford to get sick, love." Seonghwa quivered.

"Ah, Seonghwa... You know I don't care about that. We're getting you back to our bed. Come on." You helped him up.

"You should wear a mask." He tried to cough away from you.

"Park Seonghwa. Let me take care of you, okay? Stop worrying, please." You begged. He looked so sick and he was still fretting over you, it caused an ache in your chest.

"Okay, okay." He noticed your desperate tone and slipped under the covers of your shared bed, letting you tuck him in.

"Here." You put the thermometer in his mouth then went out to get the IV supplies from the counter.

"Luckily Nurse Jung let me borrow one of the portable IV stands to take home." You chuckled as you wheeled the IV stand in and fixed the height beside Seonghwa. Then you removed the thermometer from his mouth and checked. Seonghwa's fever was so high if you didn't have the IV, you would have taken him to the hospital.

"Oh, Hwa." You softened, feeling guilt bubble in your chest. But for now, you pushed it down. Seonghwa needed your focus and attention right now.

"Let me wash my hands first." You went to wash your hands and prepared the IV port to put into Seonghwa's arm.

"It's alright, baby. Slowly." Seonghwa said when he noticed your hands shaking slightly as you wiped his skin with an alcohol swab.

"Take a deep breath." You instructed and inserted the needle with precision. Seonghwa's face scrunched at the pinch, which made you feel worse.

"Sorry. It's over." You pouted.

"It's okay, love. Not your fault." He gave you a small smile. You grabbed a syringe to add the ampoule medications into the IV bag.

"Alright, there we go. It'll help with symptoms and your fever should subside quickly." You told him as you adjusted the dial flow once the drip was hooked up to the bag.

"Can you hand me another pillow?" He requested. You nodded and placed a bolster under his IV arm so it'll be comfortable.

"I'll be right back." You went to get rid of all the trash in the area and wash your hands. While you were outside, you prepared a cloth and a bucket of cool water so you could wipe him down. And you put some juice into a tumbler for him.

"I missed you." Seonghwa smiled as he watched you put the tumbler of juice and bucket on his nightstand. You started with wiping his face, feeling how warm his face was.

"Your hands are cold." He chuckled, placing his free hand over yours on his cheek.

"They're not. You're just warm." You smiled softly as you gently wiped his neck too. Then you rinsed the cloth and wiped his arms.

"Hwa, careful." You hissed when he lifted his IV arm, trying to make it easier for you to wipe his entire arm. He pouted at you and placed his arm back down.

"I need to wipe your legs too." You told him.

"But it'll be cold." He whined, quickly gripping the blanket since he knew you were going to yank it away.

"Just for a bit, Hwa. Come on, be good~" You cooed at him, which made him frown. He liked to coo at you like you were a baby and of course, you will take the opportunity to do the same to him now.

"Fine." He sulked and let you pull the blanket away. His first instinct was to him to curl his legs up. You raised his pajama pant to wipe his leg, rinsing the cloth before moving onto the next. But when you were done, you didn't let Seonghwa cover himself entirely, only covering his legs from his hips.

"But I'm cold, baby." He said, shivering.

"I know, Hwa. I'm sorry but if you bundle up like this, you'll warm your body up too much. The air conditioning will help with the fever." You kissed his forehead.

"I'm going to shower. You try to get some sleep first." You told him. He nodded, eyes already half closed.

'Hey, Hongjoong. Thank god you text me, his condition was terrible... But I put him on a drip, he should be fine. - (y/n)'

'That's good to hear. Hwa's lucky to have a doctor girlfriend or else I would have to drag his butt to the hospital and that'll be a whole nother thing. - Hongjoong'

'He's a horrible patient. But I'll keep you updated. - (y/n)'

With that, you went to take a quick shower to wash off the smell of antiseptic and germs from the hospital.

"Soup... Soup... Soup..." Since Seonghwa fell asleep, you decided to start a soup going, digging through the fridge for ingredients.

While the soup was boiling on the stove, you quietly moved the air purifier from the living room, into the bedroom. You also refilled his waterbottle with cold water. Then you went to change the sheets in the guest bedroom.

"Myers' cocktail with Peramivir administered at 3:08pm. Temperature taken 39.2 degrees." You wrote down the information on your phone, just in case.

"That's done." You turned the stove off for the soup and went to check on Seonghwa.

To avoid waking him up, you used your forehead thermometer instead of the one that needs to be in the mouth.

"38.3..." You whispered. Covering your mouth to yawn, you went to retrieve the bucket and filled it up with fresh water, along with the cloth from before.

Were you tired? Of course, you worked the graveyard shift at the hospital last night. But your priority now was Seonghwa.

"Mmm..." Seonghwa let out a soft whine in his sleep.

"Sorry, Hwa. I'll be quick." You whispered, rinsing and wringing the towel before gently wiping his face and neck. Then doing the same to wipe his arms.

"Baby?" He croaked out, slowly opening his eyes to see you standing over him to wipe down his arm.

"I'm sorry to disturb your sleep, I just wanted to try and bring your fever down faster. I've made soup for you when you feel like it. You can go back to sleep after this." You whispered with a soft smile. He nodded his head, a small smile coming onto his face as he watched you take care of him.

Seonghwa always liked taking care of people, whether it's his family, his members and of course, he LOVED taking care of his precious girlfriend. He always put others' needs before his own.

Until now, he is still the best person that takes care of Hongjoong when he's busy being the captain of the team.

"Actually, I'm a little hungry." Seonghwa admitted.

"Oh, okay! It's good that you have an appetite. I'll finish here and get you some food." You threw the cloth into the bucket and brought it out. Then you got some soup for him.

"Here." You placed the tray on the foldable table on the bed. Then you helped him sit up.

"No rice?" He gave you a sad face.

"You know you can't eat rice when you have a fever, Hwa. When your fever subsides, I'll make you rice porridge." You told him, going to open the window to let some fresh air come in.

"Sit with me, baby." He said. You hummed, pulling a chair to sit at his bed side to watch him eat.

Seeing Seonghwa eat so slowly, you figured his throat must be hurting him. It hurt to see your boyfriend like this. You were out the whole night, taking care of others when you couldn't even care for your loved on who was suffering alone at home.

"This is delicious, baby. Tha- Why are you crying?!" Seonghwa panicked when he turned his head to see tears streaming down your face. You didn't even realise that you were crying.

"I'm sorry." You looked down, shaking your head as you wiped your tears with the sleeve of your hoodie.

"My precious baby. There's nothing for you to be sorry for." He reached out to hold your hand since he couldn't reach your face.

"B-Because... What kind of doctor am I? I treat people for a living and I didn't even know you were sick! Hongjoong had to tell me and I find you in that condition. You always take care of me and I can't even-"

"Okay, okay. Breathe, my love. Breathe." Seonghwa calmed you down, moving his tray away to make some space for you.

"Come here, love." He patted his lap and you moved to sit with him, being extra careful of his drip.

"Ouh, my precious baby. My love." You hugged each other for the first time that day, Seonghwa coddling you and cooing at you like you were his baby.

"No, stop! I'm supposed to be taking care of you! Not you comforting me." You wailed, wiping your tears. Seonghwa kissed your temple, rubbing your back. Honestly, this was what Seonghwa wanted to feel better too. He missed you and just wanted to have you as close to him as possible.

"I've been waiting to hold you since you came back but I didn't want to get you sick. And I'm so gross and sweaty." Seonghwa chuckled.

"You won't... Even if you did, I don't care." You mumbled.

"No, you need to rest." It took everything in you to separate yourself from Seonghwa's embrace and placed the tray in front of him so he could continue eating.

"You take very good care of me. You're a great doctor and a great girlfriend, your patients are lucky to have you. I'm lucky to have you."

"You always take such good care of me and I couldn't even do the same." You slumped.

"Don't say that. We take good care of each other. You've just finished a night shift and yet, you've been running around to take care of me." He held your hand in his, rubbing the back with his thumb.

"Eat while I get you your medication, okay?" You stood up and went out of the room.

"Your drip is done so you can take these." You handed him a small dish with the medication on it. Before he ate the medication, you disconnected the drip from the needle port in his arm. Then you carefully removed the needle, placing a band aid over.

"Thanks, baby." Seonghwa smiled and ate the medication, chasing it with gulps of water. You gave a small smile in return and cleared up the area before washing your hands.

"Luckily I didn't throw away your sharps bin." He called out to you as you were throwing the used needle away.

"It's not even half full, I just keep it around for cases like this." You replied.

"Baby, I'm being a good patient and resting. You should also be a good baby and rest. Come on, I know you haven't taken a break since you came back and you worked graveyard." Seonghwa said.

"I will... Later..." You replied, taking the empty juice tumbler and placing it in the kitchen.

"Baby..." Seonghwa frowned in disapproval.

"I'm fine, Hwa. I promise." You squeezed his hand, taking the thermometer and taking his temperature. Finally, his temperature was now a low grade fever.

"Thank goodness I don't have to take you to the hospital now. But I'll continue to monitor your temperature." You informed, taking your phone to note down the temperature and medication log. Seonghwa curiously leaned closer to you to try and take a peek at what you were writing down.

"Wow, I'm like your patient. Just that I have you to myself and I don't need to share you with other patients." He grinned.

"You are my patient. Even though it's usually the nurse that does the charts, not me. And you never have to share me, you know I'll alwyas prioritise you and your health." You scoffed.

"I know. I just like hearing you say it." He grinned.

"Hmm, on second thought, I think the fever has made you even more delusional." You chuckled, placing your hand on his forehead.

"That's impossible. I have the best doctor in the world taking care of me." He grasped your hand to kiss the back of it. You smiled and pressed your cheek against his.

"Now come to bed." He whispered.

"I will. Just let me clean up the kitchen. You should sleep more." You replied. He hummed obediently and let you tuck him in.

"Come back soon." He smiled. You closed the window and quietly left the room to let him sleep. Although, you didn't just clean the kitchen. You knew Seonghwa was particular about cleanliness so you did his daily cleaning routine for him, knowing he couldn't do it today.

"Lint roller, vacuum, wet tissue mop then lint roller." You tried to remember his cleaning sequence and took the necessary equipment you needed to clean.

However, you didn't want to wake him so you didn't use the vacuum, instead you used the broom to sweep the floor.

"Ah, finally done." You fell back onto the couch with the lint roller in your hand.

"Baby...?" Seonghwa came out, wrapped in his blanket. He woke up to find his bedside empty and when he felt how cold the sheets were, he knew you didn't come to bed like you said he would.

"(y/n)-" Seonghwa paused when he saw you asleep on the couch, still gripping the lint roller in your hand.

"Sweet girl." He cooed and put his blanket aside before gently easing the lint roller out of your hand and putting it aside.

Looking around, Seonghwa knew that you must have done his usual daily cleaning routine for him. He smiled softly, brushing your hair away from your face, you knew him so well.

"Rest well, my love." He kissed your head and placed the blanket over your body instead.

Seonghwa went to the room and took his temperature, writing down the reading and timing on a post it, knowing that you would want to log it in later. He was still running a low grade fever and felt aches in his body but he felt 10 times better than he did this morning, all thanks to you.

"Hongjoong ah." Seonghwa made the phone call in the room, not wanting to disturb you.

"Okay, listen Seonghwa. Before you come at me all mad, you were so sick and didn't want any of us to help you. That's why I told (y/n), okay? So it's your fault."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. You so owe me." Seonghwa rolled his eyes, even though he knew Hongjoong couldn't see him.

"You have a doctor girlfriend to give you first class care. I don't owe you anything. But I'm guessing you're feeling better already?"

"I do, thanks to her. She's resting now, poor thing worked the whole night and came back to take care of me. She didn't even have time to sit down and catch a breather." Seonghwa sighed.

"You both take care of people before you take care of yourselves. See? That's why you're made for each other."

"Right..." Seonghwa scoffed.

"Anyway, do you two need anything from us? The others should be done with their schedule and I just left the studio. I can pick up whatever you need."

"You shouldn't be around the house for too long or you might get sick too. But if you could drop dinner off for us, it'll be a great help. I don't really want (y/n) to do anymore cooking or for her to be eating ramyeon." Seonghwa knew you too well.

"Sure. Send me what you want and I'll go pick it up, drop it off at yours."

"Thanks, Hongjoong ah." Seonghwa said and hung up. He texted over the food for Hongjoong to buy, knowing your likes and dislikes.

As much as Seonghwa wanted to snuggle with you, he had to hold himself back. Firstly, he didn't want to wake you. Secondly, he was still worried about getting you sick.

"Ah..." He winced and dramatically held his arm back as he stood before you.

"Once you recover, you can get all the cuddles from her." He took a deep breath and returned to the room.

And of course, he found his nintendo switch in the charger, you must have put it there, knowing he would be bored and want to play when he wakes up.

When you woke up, you sat up in shock. You didn't even know when you fell asleep. But the curtains to the living room were drawn and there was a blanket placed over you.

"Yeah, she's still sleeping... I want her to get as much rest as she can get since she worked graveyard... Thanks, Hongjoong ah. I'll see you." You heard hushed whispers from the bedroom and assumed it was Seonghwa speaking to Hongjoong over the phone, maybe updating him on Seonghwa's current condition.

"Oh, baby! You're awake." Seonghwa was heading back into the living room and spotted you standing there, half asleep and confused.

"Was that Hongjoong?" You asked.

"Mhmm, he picked up some dinner for us. I didn't want you cooking and I shouldn't be cooking for you when I'm sick." He said, placing the empty cups on the counter.

"Ah, I'm fine to cook, Seonghwa. And besides, there's still some leftover chicken soup for you." You yawned, shuffling to him.

"I know. But I also know you'll give all the leftover soup to me and make ramyeon for yourself." He stated.

"I..." Your cheeks heated up as he exposed you. Seonghwa chuckled, watching you stand there, still half asleep and a little lost, with the blanket wrapped around your body like a child.

"You should be resting... Let me do all the dishes..." You said to him.

"I feel better already, baby. I took my temperature down and even took the medications." He said, showing you the post it note with all the temperature readings, the medications he took and the timings of when he took them.

"Let me feel. Come here." You reached up to feel his cheeks and forehead in your hands.

"Your fever is gone. Let's hope it stays that way. But still, you're not fully recovered." You frowned slightly. You were relieved that his fever was finally gone.

"After this." He kissed your knuckles.

"Let me put this back." You bundled up the blanket and folded it properly, returning it to the bedroom.

"Gosh, I didn't even know when I fell asleep." You rubbed your cheeks and let out another yawn.

"Poor baby. You were probably so tired and running on adrenaline to take care of me. Once the food is delivered, we should eat and go back to bed." Seonghwa frowned sadly.

"Yeah, we should." You smiled softly.

"I bought some immunity juice thingy in the fridge. You should drink that. It's good for you." You pointed.

"It looks horrible. Tumeric, black pepper, orange, ginger, carrot, apple, cucumber... I think just reading this is making me feel more sick than I already am." Seonghwa took the bottle out, cringing at the colour and ingredients listed on it. You took the bottle from him and poured him a glass.

"It's good for you." You re-emphasised and held it out to him. Seonghwa sighed in defeat and grabbed the glass to drink it. He gulped the whole thing down, shuddering when he finished.

"Now, you. You're always around sick people, you should be drinking it too to build immunity." Seonghwa refilled the glass.

"But..." Your face fell.

"Be good, baby." Seonghwa shot you a pointed look, repeating your own words back to you.

"I take you being able to boss me around as a sign that you're feeling better." You raised an eyebrow with him but still drank the immunity juice. Seonghwa was right, the taste was vile.

"See? Horrible, right?" Seonghwa chuckled and engulfed you in a bear hug, rubbing your back while you nodded glumly.

"There, there." He comforted. Seonghwa's hugs felt like home, you nuzzled your cheek against his chest and closed your eyes. It doesn't matter how long you are away from him, you always miss his hugs and his warm embrace.

"My love, are you falling asleep on me?" He chuckled.

"Shhhhh..." You hushed him. Seonghwa sighed in defeat and stroked the back of your head. He guided you to the couch so he could tuck you under his arm.

"Don't sleep, Hongjoong's coming to delivery dinner soon. After that, you can sleep." He said.

"If you don't want me to sleep, stop being so comfy and cozy." You grumbled. Seonghwa laughed at your nonsense.

"Wait! You should be the one resting! Not me!" You shot up suddenly, making Seonghwa jump in shock. He didn't have time to protest as you pulled him up from the couch and brought him back to the room.

"There. Stay here until I get the food from Hongjoong." You pulled the blanket over his legs.

"My love-"

"Shh, rest." You placed the Nintendo switch console in his hands and exited the room to prepare his next round of medications, as well as fill up his water bottle for him.

"Hongjoong ah! Thanks again for doing this... No, he's not sleeping, you can see him if you want... That's right, you need to remain healthy as the last Matz standing... Don't make yourself sick taking care of the kids and not of yourself." Seonghwa heard you talking to Hongjoong, it was nice to hear you so comfortable with him.

The love of his life and his best friend.

"Mmm, I will. Take care and let me know if you need anything!" You bid Hongjoong goodbye and brought the food bags in.

"Stay there, Hwa! I'll plate everything up." You said just as Seonghwa was about to stand up from bed. You knew him too well to know what he would do.

"Do you have a camera in here?!" Seonghwa yelled back.

"What are you talking about?" You chuckled as you entered the room with a tray of food for him. You placed the tray on the bed for him.

"Where's your dinner? And don't tell me you will eat after me. I won't eat unless you eat with me." Just like you knew Seonghwa, he knew you very well too.

"Fine, I'll go get my food." Your shoulders slumped and you went to get your bowl of noodle soup.

A nice silence fell over the both of you as you ate, the both of you were rather quiet eaters. Just that usually, you and Seonghwa would put food on each other's spoons but with Seonghwa being sick, you both didn't want to risk cross-contamination.

"I'll go take a shower. I really want to get out of these clothes." Seonghwa said with an uncomfortable frown once dinner was done. You nodded and let him shower while you cleaned up.

"Don't go under the hot water for too long, Hwa! It might trigger your fever again." You knocked on the door.

"Yes, Dr (y/l/n)." He replied. You laid on your side of the bed, checking your phone for messages.

"I'm back." Seonghwa wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling you flushed against his body. He was still slightly warm but the medication seemed to really help.

"Still feel ill?" You ran your hands through his hair.

"No, I'm a lot better but the body ache is still there." He smiled softly, grabbing your hand and kissing your fingertips.

"I've set an alarm for you to take your meds, so don't swear at me for waking you up later, okay?" You joked, knowing that Seonghwa would NEVER ever swear at you.

"You don't have to wake up, baby. I can wake up on my own to take the medication, just put it on my table." Seonghwa said.

"It's fine. I want to, it will make me feel better knowing your temperature and reaction to the medication." You insisted. He knew there was no persuading you otherwise so Seonghwa just nodded and pulled you to him. You both didn't care about getting you sick anymore, you just wanted to be as humanly near him as possible.

"Thank you for taking care of me, baby." He kissed your forehead.

"What's there to thank for? You're always taking care of me and making sure I'm at my best." You looked up at him.

"Yeah, but I like to take care of you. It's not a chore at all, it makes me feel useful knowing I can help you. And with your job, you always take care of patients. It's nice to be taken care sometimes."

"Seonghwa, you're always useful, no matter what. I've never saw you as useless." You said.

"I know... It's just a personal feeling." He shrugged.

"I could say the same for you. You're always taking care of the other members and especially Hongjoong. So you can take a break and let me take care of you." You giggled.

"We'll always be here to take care of each other. You know like they say... In sickness and in health." He stroked your cheek.

"Exactly." You smiled softly and closed your eyes to join him in dreamland.

~

Masterlist

[stclaretarot]

PAC ⭒ how will your future spouse show you love?

reminder that this is a general reading and messages found here may not apply to everyone. take what resonates, leave what doesn't, and don't force anything if it does not fit.

BOOK A READING WITH ME · LINKTREE · 18+ PATREON · TIPS ♡ tips, bookings, and feedback are highly appreciated!

GROUP ONE

cards pulled · queen of cups, four of pentacles, four of swords, four of wands, five of swords. 

channelled songs · no name no 5 by elliott smith. night away by taemin. sick, nervous & broke! by jpegmafia. 666 in luxaxa by backxwash. 

my dear group one  ♡ your future spouse may be a busy person with little time to themselves, let alone time for you. however, they never use this as an excuse. 

your future spouse may constantly be away from home, for some, as they are a trucker, or because they moved somewhere with better job opportunities.

however, to your future spouse, effort equals love and love equals effort, and so they will still do whatever they can to show you that they love you. in particular, they will write you long letters that they mail to you. or write you long paragraphs keeping you updated about their life and checking in with you about yours. or they may take the time when they have it to write you what is essentially a newsletter. 

they may also send you long voicenotes when they can, or make the effort to call you, even if only for a few minutes. 

GROUP TWO

cards pulled · the lovers, page of cups, ace of cups, five of pentacles, four of pentacles. 

channelled songs · fever by ateez. bolo by penomeco & ydg. lubie by lous and the yakuza. tender love by exo. 

my dear group two  ♡ your future spouse is the epitome of a romantic. they are just SO romantic. they are romantic to their very core, and is almost certainly the most romantic person that you have ever known, let alone ever been with. 

this may be overwhelming, and also too good to be true. 

they will dance with you, make you playlists, and go above and beyond to take you to all the best events and restaurants in town. this may be to an extreme, where they may not have a lot of self-control when it comes to spoiling you and romancing you. 

GROUP THREE

cards pulled · page of pentacles, queen of swords, ace of wands, three of cups, eight of cups.

channelled songs · man in the mirror - 2012 remaster by michael jackson. suddenly by nct 127. solange by tobi lou & glassface. diet coke by pusha t. 

my dear group three ♡ your future spouse  is practical and has a very level head on their shoulders. they are a careful and cautious person, who will show you love by extending this care to you -- especially in making sure that you are looked after financially. 

but, not just by providing for you, but by making sure that you are able to look after yourself financially. by making sure that you are independent, have financialy knowledge, and are able to look after yourself without them.

they will help you save money in the now so that you can look after and spoil yourself in the future. they will constantly be on the lookout for ways you can make more money. they will also make it a priority to be careful with your money so that you can travel, have nice holidays together, and experience all of lives luxuries.

GROUP FOUR

cards pulled · wheel of fortune, eight of cups, the hierophant, seven of cups, king of cups. 

channelled songs · love this by cosmo jarvis. rose parade by elliott smith. real you by twice. guitare et tambourin by dalida. 

my dear group four  ♡ your future spouse will show you love by being your biggest hypeman. they will hype you up and compliment you constantly. 

you may be somewhat or quite insecure, and so it may be a priority to your future spouse to let you know how beautiful and attractive you are. no, not only that, but how absolutely amazing and incredible you are. 

they will make sure that never a day goes by without complimenting you. they will make an effort to overcome your insecurities with you. for example, if you are insecure about your body and want to lose/gain weight, they will go on that journey with you, supoorting you all the way. or if you are insecure about your education, they will take full responsibility of your household and finances so that you can study full-time. 

nobody believes in you more than your future spouse. 

[bellaxgiornata]

Falling For the Devil [Part ninety-seven: "The Comforting Touch"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: You spend the day miserably ill at home with Mittens.

Or

Matt comforts you in the shower.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.] [FFTD Series Masterlist]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut, violence

a/n: It's been quite a few months since this series had an update because of my unexpected crazy past few months, but here's a bonus installment while I still try to tidy up "The Rooftop." Sheer coincidence that I'm also sick while working on this one (because I've basically been ill the past few months straight). Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

A faint pressure along your shoulder broke through your peaceful sleep as something gently shook you, the sensation gradually drawing you back to consciousness. Unfortunately that also meant being able to feel the sharp, scratchy pain in the back of your throat along with the congestion in your head that you'd initially fallen asleep to briefly find relief from. 

You groaned miserably, the ache that had seeped into all of your muscles causing you to curl further in on yourself along the leather couch. Mittens, who’d been snuggled up in a little gray ball against you and asleep on top of the two blankets you’d tightly wrapped around yourself, raised his head and softly mewed at the disruption to his own nap. But you didn’t respond to the cat as another chill raced up your spine and you shivered beneath the blankets you’d been buried beneath ever since you'd managed to force down a single slice of buttered toast at lunch. You'd been freezing all day in the apartment despite the thick sweatshirt and sweatpants you'd dressed in this morning when you'd woken up sick.  

“Sweetheart,” Matt's gentle voice murmured somewhere near your ear. “Wake up, sweetheart.”

Curling further into a ball on the couch, you groaned in discontent again. If Matt was home it meant that you'd slept for half the day straight after you'd finished that toast because he was back from work. But yet somehow you still felt tired and cold. And sweaty. A light sheen of sweat coated your skin even though you felt like you were freezing beneath all the layers you had on.

“No,” you grumbled, eyes still closed. “Don't want to.”

Matt's hand, which had previously been lightly shaking you awake, affectionately gave your shoulder a squeeze. The sound of his soft chuckle while his warm breath brushed past your cheek drew another shiver up through you.

“Sweetheart, have you been curled up here since I left at lunchtime?” Matt asked.

“Yes,” you simply replied, your voice sounding even more nasally than it had this morning. “Comfy here. Warm-ish.”

“Warm-ish?” he questioned. 

You felt his hand release your shoulder before the tips of his fingers lightly pressed against your forehead. He hummed thoughtfully, the pad of his thumb lightly stroking your damp skin. Shifting under the cocoon of blankets, you leaned further into his touch despite Mittens’ protesting meow at the movement.

“Thought you had a bit of a fever,” he mused softly. “It’s not too bad, but it’s there.”

“You're warm,” you mumbled contentedly, eyes still closed. “Very warm.”

Another amused chuckle fell from Matt's lips as you pressed your forehead further into his hand. His thumb gave another stroke across your sweat-dampened skin before he finally removed it from your forehead. You whined in protest, your eyes finally opening as another chill shot through you at the loss of his warm touch against you. Matt was bent over the couch before you, his glasses removed as he gazed down towards where you lay on the couch, an affectionate twist to his lips.

“You've got a low-grade fever, sweetheart,” Matt informed you. “Have you taken anything for it? Been drinking any water?”

Another groan fell out of you at the questions, your eyes aching even just to blink. Of course you hadn’t because you’d been passed out on the couch asleep with Mittens all afternoon. You had been miserable and exhausted and hadn’t wanted to move.

“No,” you reluctantly confessed. “I didn't want to get up. Everything hurts.”

“Mmm,” he hummed out. “How about I get you something to help with the fever along with a glass of water? While you drink that, I can get a shower ready for you.”

“No shower,” you told him, shaking your head against the couch pillow. “I'm comfy here. Just said I didn’t want to move.”

“Sweetheart,” he began, tone lightly chastising. “You'd feel better if you did. And the steam would help your throat and your congestion. I can tell that they're bothering you.”

Squirming further beneath the blankets, you vigorously shook your head again. Humming out a negative noise in response, your arms wrapped tighter around the couch pillow.

“Why not?” he asked. “You always feel better afterwards.”

“Because I'd have to get undressed,” you croaked out. “And I'm warm now. Somewhat.”

Matt paused, a contemplative expression crossing his face as his unseeing gaze raked over your form on the couch. He was silent for a long moment, but you could still see the way he was piecing something together in his head. After a brief pause, he spoke again.

“Alright, how about this,” he said, sounding more confident in his suggestion this time. “You drink down the water and take the medicine, and I'll join you in the shower. I'll keep you warm.”

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you considered his offer. Truthfully, you really did not want to get up from beneath the blankets because the thought of taking your warm layers off sounded absolutely awful. But Matt ran incredibly hot–like a comforting heating pad in the form of a beautiful man. And having him wrapped around you sounded good, very good. Especially after having just spent the whole day miserable with only Mittens for comfort, having Matt to yourself sounded tempting. 

“I'm sick,” you weakly pointed out. “I'll get you sick.”

Matt shrugged his shoulders. “I'll be alright, sweetheart.”

“Pretty sure I've heard that before,” you mumbled.

Matt’s head tilted to the side, amusement glinting in his eyes at your tone as he gazed down at you on the couch. Your eyes narrowed curiously back at him. There was another part to his suggestion, you could feel it. You knew that look.

“What?” you asked him.

“I'll even wash you,” he added on, the smile growing on his face.

The thought of Matt holding you in the shower while his large hands washed you and eased the ache in your muscles was hard to pass up. A sharp exhale fell past your chapped lips as your body went slack beneath the blankets. Just like that, you immediately caved. 

“Fine,” you relented. 

“Knew that would get you,” he replied. “I'll be right back.”

Matt stood back upright, no longer leaning over your place on the couch. Eyes following him, you watched as he made his way around the furniture and headed towards the kitchen. Inevitably your heavy eyelids lowered as you listened to the sound of glasses clinking together before a cabinet door closed, then you heard the faucet running. By the time you heard Matt lightly shaking a pill bottle, you'd already felt yourself beginning to drift off again. 

“No sleeping right now,” Matt called back from the kitchen.  

His voice startled you back awake, your eyes flying open. A frown tugged at your lips in response. Him and those fancy Devil senses were always so in tune with your body. But as your gaze fell down on Mittens still curled up against your stomach, and you heard Matt’s soft footsteps approaching from the kitchen, you found yourself actually comforted by how closely he paid attention to you. You’d often spent a lot of time in the past wondering if a man like Matthew Murdock could ever truly love you, and situations like these always proved it.

In a matter of moments, Matt was once more leaning over you. Glancing up, you focused on both of his outstretched hands. There was a full glass of water in one and two little pills in his other.

“Take these,” he ordered. “Drink that whole glass of water, too. I can tell you're dehydrated and your body needs it, especially with that slight fever. I'll go get the shower warmed up for us while you do.”

Slowly pushing yourself upright on the couch with one hand, your other attempted to keep the blankets from completely falling off of you. With an aggravated noise, Mittens rose up from his place on the cushion beside you, shooting you an annoyed look before he hopped off of the couch. Ignoring Mittens’ dramatic reaction to being disturbed when he wasn’t the one who was sick, you reached out and accepted both items from Matt’s hands. As you did, you saw Mittens stalk his way towards his cat tree again before climbing all the way to the top. He settled down to nap again, almost intentionally turning his back to you and Matt.

“You don't even take this good of care of yourself,” you grumbled, focusing back on Matt. 

The corner of his mouth quirked upwards at your comment. “Because you're more important,” he stated.

“I strongly disagree with that sentiment,” you argued, voice cracking a little as you spoke. “I’m not the one going out and saving people at night. You are.”

“Debatable,” Matt countered easily. “You arguably make a lot of important impacts in the city with the articles you write, sweetheart.”

“Which leads me to get incredibly ill from it,” you muttered. “And put on Ellison’s shit list. Again.”

Matt’s lips shot up into a grin. He’d heard all about that the other night when you’d come home from chasing a lead and ranting about how Ellison had thrown you on probationary fluff pieces again. 

“I’m inclined to side with Ellison on this one,” he told you. He gestured his head down at your hands where the water and pills still remained untouched. “Now take those and drink.”

With a resigned sigh, you set the pills on your tongue before raising the glass of water to your lips. Swallowing down the pills, you winced at the effort when your raw throat stung. Grimacing, you shot the glass of water in your hand a dirty look. The thought of drinking all of it seemed like torture right now.

“There you go, sweetheart. That’s good,” Matt praised. “Now just finish that glass of water. I'll be right back.”

A shudder ran through you, your body involuntarily reacting to his words. As Matt made his way down the hall to the bathroom, you heard him chuckle lightly before he disappeared from view. Of course he’d caught that faint reaction your body had just had to his praise despite how awful you currently felt. Eyes shifting down to the glass of water in your hand, you frowned at how full it was. You did not want to drink it.

“Drink all of it!” Matt called out from the bathroom. “Don't make me repeat myself, sweetheart!”

Brows drawing together, you glanced up at the hallway he’d disappeared down. The frown on your face only further deepened at how closely he was focused on you. Because of course he knew you were hesitating on drinking the glass down–he could hear you. 

“Or what?” you called back, voice cracking once again at the volume. “You'll love me to death?”

“That’s a tempting idea,” Matt returned with a chuckle from the other room. “But I can tell you’re not quite up for that right now.”

Rolling your eyes despite a different sort of heat creeping into your cheeks now, you grinned back down at the glass of water in your hand. With a resigned sigh, you finally drew it up to your lips. Matt might have been a mess some days–thankfully far less of one ever since you’d moved in with him and things had clearly been growing more serious between you both–but he was nothing if not attentive and caring. Sometimes overly so when it came to you.

By the time you'd finished struggling to chug down the glass of water, your throat feeling like it was swallowing shards of glass instead of liquid, Matt had returned to the living room. Except now he was only dressed in his black boxers, which momentarily had you pausing mid-way of setting the now empty glass onto the coffee table to stare. 

Your eyes scanned over his toned muscles and the multiple scars adorning his body. There was a large bruise on his left thigh that looked like it had finally started healing after his night out a few days ago. Your heart gave a stutter at the sight of him, not because he was absolutely beautiful–which he was and you didn’t think there’d ever be a day that you wouldn’t be affected by that–but because he looked like home. Even battered and bruised. 

“Come on, love,” he said, making his way back towards you and skirting around the coffee table. He stopped in front of you with both of his hands outstretched to you on the couch. “Let's get you clean and warm.”

Struggling to breathe out of your congested nose, you reached out towards him and placed your hands into his. Matt pulled you up from the couch carefully before slipping a muscled arm around your waist and drawing you up against his side. The heat of his bare skin felt delicious even over your clothes. Almost immediately, your own arms wrapped around his waist as you pressed your forehead against his shoulder. A chill ran through you at the warmth of him and you felt his arm tighten around you in response.

Breathing in the scent of his skin, your eyes closing, you let Matt guide you around the coffee table and towards the hallway that led to the bathroom. You could hear the water running as you both approached, but the second you stepped into the bathroom, you could feel your sinuses clear just a fraction because of the steam. 

Matt’s head shifted slightly towards you, a small smile on his lips. “See? It’s helping already,” he murmured.

“Yeah, okay,” you muttered as he led you over towards the shower. “I’ll let you win this one.”

Matt chuckled softly as he brought you both to a stop before the enclosed shower. Gently, he disentangled himself from the way you’d wrapped yourself around his side. You’d been about to make a complaint, but then his fingers slipped into the waistband of his boxers and began tugging them down his thighs. At the sight of him completely bare, you’d entirely forgotten your argument.

A faint, knowing smirk was on his lips when he turned towards you, but he thankfully spared you a teasing comment in your current sick state. Instead, his hands grabbed onto the hem of your sweatshirt before he began carefully easing it up and over your head. Standing there in front of the shower, you let Matt tenderly and slowly undress you until you were just as bare as him. Though as he undressed you, a bout of shivers ran through you, goosebumps dotting your skin. 

Noticing your discomfort, Matt opened the shower door and ushered you inside. Once the warm spray of the shower fell over you, your eyes closed and the goosebumps began to fade. The heat felt good and the steam was quickly clearing your nasal passages, but what felt even better was when Matt’s arms slipped back around your waist before his entire front was pressed against your back. Instinctively, you leaned backwards into him with the smallest sigh. 

“There you go, sweetheart,” Matt whispered, his mouth suddenly beside your ear. “Just relax and let me help you feel better.”

Matt’s mouth pressed a soft kiss to your cheek before his hands slid their way to your hips. Slow and careful, he turned you around until you were facing him. Craving the warmth and comfort of him, your own arms snaked their way around his waist, drawing your chest tight against his as the warm water ran down the pair of you. Matt’s hands began running soothing patterns up and down your sore back muscles, his palms and the water easing the ache and tension in them. Melting into his touch, your forehead lowered to his wet shoulder as your eyes fell shut. This was even better than being cocooned on the couch with Mittens. 

“Can I nap like this?” you asked quietly. “Because now I don’t want to move.”

“I don’t know about that, sweetheart,” he replied, his hands continuing their comforting massage along your back. “Might be hard to fall asleep standing upright, and eventually the water is going to get cold.”

A frustrated noise fell out of you, your face still pressed against his skin. He had a point but you wished he didn’t. 

“Besides,” he continued, “I was planning to get some food delivered after this. You like that one soup from the cafe on the corner, figured it might help clear you up and soothe your sore throat. And you need more than that piece of buttered toast you had today. You haven’t eaten remotely enough.”

You knew you couldn’t even dispute that. Not only could Matt tell you were lying–not that you would–but you knew he was able to tell what you’d eaten today just by your breath. Despite your inability to understand how that didn’t gross him out when speaking with people in general, you knew that he was aware you hadn’t really even had a single meal today.

“Okay,” you agreed. “But I want to stay in here for a bit first.”

“I’m okay with that,” he replied, a hint of a smile in his voice.

Keeping one arm around your waist, Matt shifted in the shower. He turned you with him as he moved, one of his hands reaching up to the shower caddy hanging off the shower head as he grabbed the soap. Only then did he release his hold on you, which in turn had you clinging tighter to him. Not bothered by the way you were pressed against the front of his body, Matt began lathering the soap into his hands before they once more landed on your back. Somehow, you sunk even further into him as he not only washed you, but massaged your back and shoulders with the right amount of pressure to not hurt your already stiff and aching muscles. 

You had no idea how long the pair of you had stayed under the spray of warm water, the steam clearing the congestion in your head as you held onto Matt. His hands continued moving along your body in such careful, tender motions that he was about to put you to sleep. It was such a small moment, just him taking care of you while you were ill, but it felt good just being with him like this.

“Boyfriend of the year award goes to you,” you murmured half-awake against his damp skin.

“Sweetheart,” he began, his hands still moving in comforting patterns against your skin, “I think I lose points for disappearing on you most nights and coming home injured.”

“Stop it,” you weakly protested, your arms squeezing him a bit tighter in reproach. “You know I support you as long as you take care of yourself. I’d never ask you to stop.”

“Yeah,” he answered softly, a tinge of something tender in his tone that you were far too sick to pick up on. “You’ve always been supportive and accepting.”

“Because you’re my other half, Matty,” you admitted quietly, the words coming out nasally. “You’re part of me.”

With your eyes still closed and your forehead still resting against his shoulder, enjoying the way his hands were washing your bare body, you entirely missed the emotion that passed across his face at your words.

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[beefrobeefcal]

an Ezra & Cricket One Shot: Brass Knuckled Debauchee Summary: Ezra, after abusing your healing talents, returns to make good on his debt... for a price.

Pairing: Ezra x F!Reader | Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) | Word Count: 4,752

Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, fingering (f receiving), weight gain, eating, edging, soft!dom Ezra being an overall ass, teasing, begging, crying, malfunctioning prosthetic limb, the occasional swear

Author's Notes: requested by two (count'em - 2!) lovely babes for the 900 Friendo Celebration - thank you to @xdaddysprincessxx and @morallyinept for bringing Ezra some love.

Huge thank you to @strang3lov3 , @noxturnalpascal & @bitchesuntitled for their beta badass skills and to my ever lovely beta fish, @neverwheremoonchild. None of you will understand the depths of gratitude I hold you all in.

No more tag lists - follow @beefnotes + turn on notifications for fic updates!

You’d cared for him when his appendage was newly parted from his person, after a young woman dumped him off at your meagre midwife’s centre.  

You hadn’t delivered a baby in at least eight cycles, but you were busy tending to broken bones and crushed limbs from the mine nearby, so the idea of caring for a wound caused by a missing arm wasn’t far from your everyday.  

What was far from the standard men in your care was that this one wouldn’t shut up. Truly. You’d never met someone so close to death spew such a narrative. You almost wished to have him out of his misery just to stop his linguistic vomit.  

Thank Kevva for sedatives.  

You didn’t even want to know his name, worried that if you had his, he’d need yours and there was no way someone this sick and wounded that could carry on like he’s memorized a thesaurus wasn’t capable of performing a hex or a curse on you. 

After three blessedly quiet and devoid-of-narration days, the open wound where his arm once hung from was no longer festering and the fever that wracked his body broke. Despite your own desire to keep him silent, you stopped administering such a high dose of the sedative, and you allowed him to regain consciousness.  

For the first little while, all you heard was his steady, deep breathing, so you left the room to grab some water and liquified sustenance for him, figuring that when he would finally come to, he’d be hungry. 

“To what do… do I owe the pleasure?”, you heard croaked as you walked softly back into the room.  

“Oh good…”, you replied flatly. “You’re awake and talking.” 

The remainder of his stay that time had revolved around you doing what you could to keep his mouth occupied enough to keep it quiet; you fed him. By the time he’d left, he’d made you aware of his name – Ezra – and bestowed a nickname on you for lack of giving your own. Cricket. He then made the terrible promise to return to see you and left with a wink and a smile.  

Your whole body bristled at the thought of having to deal with him again. 

***** 

The first return visit he made, his confidence and vocabulary were still obnoxiously inflated. Whining of a bruised rib, you resumed your frustrated feeding to keep him down to two to three sentences and responses between mouthfuls.  

The second time he returned, he stated that he had been ‘brutalized by a deviant, one who you should not even be told of his true form else your fragile and virtuous mind be stained’. There wasn’t a single mark on him, save for a bite on his only arm that looked to be self-inflicted. He enjoyed himself, smiling between bites of food. 

By the third visit – complaining of a sprained toe - you knew that he knew that you knew what you were doing - and vice versa. Despite this, you fed him, and he ate very well. After several days of ‘healing’, he hauled himself up and it was then that you noted his flight suit looking like it was getting tighter around his middle.  

Those visits happened in a fairly rapid succession, but a longer period – more than six cycles at least - lapsed before he darkened your doorway and approached your desk once again. Without even looking up, you knew it was him, having heard his cavalier long-form salutations being crooned out at anyone he passed approaching your unit. 

“What now?”, you sighed in irritation, dropping your head into your hand, not bothering to look up at him – something you would come to regret to save yourself future embarrassment. You didn’t see him close your door and lock it behind him.  

He approached your desk, and his hand came into view along with a mechanical one; the smooth-as-silk tongued devil was now outfitted with a prosthetic arm that looked like it had been stolen from a brass skeleton and had gears added. Your eyes followed the mechanical limb up to the hem of his shortened sleeve, hiding the joint between it and what remained of his actual arm. The new colour of his clothing caught your attention, too, pulling your eyes to his torso. Yes, it was definitely a different colour. He was no longer in the moss greens and soil browns you’d associated with him. Now, he was in a dark blue flight suit with a gold zipper that looked to just be barely holding together.  

Your brain paused to take in what was in front of you.  

“No more chirps for me, sweet Cricket?” 

His raspy, southern drawl sounded sweeter than you’d noticed before as your eyes took in the added weight on his middle. Before looking up to his face, you noted the way the zipper rippled from the strain and the clear indent his belly button made as the fabric pulled taut across his expanse.  

His face. As soon as you took it in, you regretted not doing it first. He’s held you in his big brown eyes’ gaze before, but you’d been able to avoid being trapped. But this time you couldn’t help but let them absorb you. His smile widened as he slightly leaned forward, arms putting further weight on your desk.  

“You seem at a loss for word, Crick-“ 

“You’ve been eating well.”, you managed to croak out in a somewhat aloof-sounding voice, nodding towards his middle.  

He didn’t shrink back at your comment; instead, it seemed to embolden him.  “You started me on a path of decadence that a mere man such as myself isn’t able to easily shake.” 

He stood to his full height, eyes never leaving yours. “Is that all you noticed?”, he grinned, lifting his brass appendage, bringing the crude and simple brass hand to his face, smoothing over his moustache.  

Your lips parted then closed and parted again before you were able to spit out, “I saw y-… I see you got a new… limb.” 

His eyes gleamed at you, seeing his every move had you further in his grasp. You inwardly scowled, chiding yourself on how quickly you were falling under his spell. Narrowing your eyes, you shrugged at him. 

“Looks old.” 

If it stung him, he didn’t show it; he simply kept that smile on his face and continued to look down at you from across the desk. “I’m not its first owner.” 

The pleasantries had only lasted a few more moments before Ezra moved around your desk and hovered over you. 

“I’m here to return the favour, Cricket.” 

“...Favour?” 

“For all the hard work you put into bringing me back to my full health.”, he cooed lowly as his brass hand cooled your cheek with its feather-light touch.  

“It’s nothing... I was just doing my j - “ 

He leaned over you further, cheshire grin pulled menacingly across his face. His voice slipped into a lower pitch and his eyes darted from your eyes to your mouth.  

“Doing your job would have been to send me away when I appeared with erroneous and fabricated injuries and illnesses. You, my sweet Cricket, stepped over and above the threshold of your employment and I intend to repay you for your sweetness in full.” 

You sucked in a few shallow breaths and nervously swallowed. This was a side of him you hadn't seen, assuming that he was a submissive and pliant brat who’d chosen you to dote on him. But no. There was no favour he intended to pay back. He was just sizing you up and wrangling you into his web, and now he was out loud declaring that you were his prey. His eyes were dark and fixed on you, in contrast with the gentle smile on his face.  

“Don’t be nervous, sweet Cricket. You can tend to your own wounds afterwards. Now, let me hear you chirp.” 

His brass arm shot out and gripped your wrist tightly and he pulled you from your seat. Dragging you to the maternity room, he tossed you onto the low soft bed.  

“Ezra!”, you squeaked as your body hit the push mattress below you.  

He dropped to his knees and crawled up, forcing your legs apart, and his belly barely grazed your middle as his face lined up with yours. You let out an involuntary whimper. 

“Oh, sweet Cricket. How badly I wanted you on your back, making those sweet vocalizations your namesake promised me.” 

His flesh and bone hand gently grazed your face and moved to the back of your head, softly fisting your hair, forcing your head to stay still as he traced his nose along the contours of your face. His eyes remained half lidded and he watched as your own rolled back when he pushed his knee into the crux of your thighs, knowing he had all but your verbal consent.  

“This is all you need, sweet Cricket? Someone to light the way?” 

All you can muster as his hold on your hair tightened and his knee applied more pressure was a light whine through your parted lips.  

You wanted to respond, but the moment you opened your mouth, Ezra’s brass arm made a clunk sound and began to shudder.  

“Oh, for Kevva’s sake.”, he muttered, sitting up on his knees as he examined the arm. It made a mechanical sound before it shuddered again, then a higher pitched noise droned as the arm vibrated.  

You watched him sitting between your parted legs as the realization of what he had at his disposal dawned on him. Your eyes widened as he turned and looked at you like a starved man with a wild grin.  

“Sweet Cricket, I think I could go for a bite to eat.” 

***** 

Once you’d gotten some finger foods together and brought them back into the room, you found Ezra laid back in a mountain of pillows on the bed. He nodded his head towards you and raised his hand, beckoning you to him.  

“Come on, Cricket. Tend to your weary traveller.” 

His eyes were glued to you, cascading up and down your form, as you hand fed him. He’d had a few pieces of the savoury pastries when you felt the cool touch of his brass hand slide between your thighs.  

“Curious...”, he mused as he chewed. “… that when I make a certain motion with my appendage, it malfunctions in such an amusing manner that I know you will find benefit in, pet.” 

Your brows furrow in question and before you can ask how that could benefit you in any way, the arm made that clunk sound again. You felt the vibration between your thighs and your eyes widened.  

“Ez – oh fuck!”, you gasped as he pushed his knuckle up against your mound and held it there firmly. 

Your mouth was open, allowing shallow panting breaths to puff out and your eyes were closed with your brows pinched as the shuddering vibrations pulsed against you. You’d never felt anything like this before in your life and you thanked Kevva.  

The low amber tones of his voice cut through to you and pulled you out of your silent prayer. “Now, sweet Cricket. We are both here to derive enjoyment from one another given we both now have the intel on each other’s vices. You can’t go holding out on me to seek your fruition – that is not fair.” 

He pulled his hand from contacting your core, and your eyes snapped to his, a pleading whimper bubbling out from your pouting lips.  

“Uh-uh, Cricket. We will play fair.”, he growled in warning. His smile dropped as his features darkened, and he nodded towards your suspended hand holding a small meat-filled pastry. “Don’t you dare hold out on me.” 

Shakily, you brought the morsel to his mouth and as he took it in and let his tongue touch your finger, his hand once again pressed against your core. 

***** 

Ezra had continued to eat and finished over half of platter. But every time you started to get close to your peak, he would pull his hand away, leaving you a shaking mess. 

“P-please… Ezra, please!”, you begged mere seconds away from ecstasy.  

“I am not finished, sweet Cricket.”, he said with a mouthful. “You will be sated when I have found my fill, and we are not yet there.” 

You could have screamed at him, strangled him in a rage. “Ezra please! I - ”. 

The warning look he gave you stopped any further pleading. Your mind reeled, trying to find some way to get relief. You could kick him out and try to finish yourself off with your fingers, but you knew it would be fruitless; you’d never gotten this worked up on your own before and you doubt that you had anything in this clinic that vibrated at that frequency.  

As you trembled and panted, Ezra watched, amused at how clearly you were seeking a solution to the problem he’d created for you.  

“Cricket…”, he cooed, soothing his biological hand up your arm and to your face. He gently guided your chin towards him. “Sweet Cricket, come back to me.” 

When your frantic gaze met his, his eyes softened and creased as he smiled. “I will not leave you unfinished. I repay my debts, darling nurse.” 

You sighed in defeat, nodded, and took a deep breath. Your eyes trailed down to his noticeably rounder middle that made the already strained zipper pull at the seams of the fabric. He shifted in what looked like discomfort.  

You put down the current half-filled plate of food and reached for the zipper tag, tugging it down. It only got to the beginning of the swell of his belly before you met resistance. You tugged a little harder, but it wouldn’t budge. 

“Suck it in.” 

“Now, Cricket, let’s not be hast-“ 

“I said suck it in.”, you snapped back far more forcefully than intended.  

Ezra froze then nodded. “Sweet girl, I will try, but…”  You saw his middle pull in slightly. “… the profound conundrum I experienced in getting it on…” 

The zipper finally moved, and he groaned as his stomach expanded. “Sweet Kevva… such relief.” 

You were desperate for him to touch you again, but seeing him fat and swollen before you, knowing it was your work that was filling him out. Ezra watched your gaze turn hungry and almost feral. Granted, he felt that way as he watched you teeter on the edge of falling apart over and over. He wasn’t ready to let the power he held over you go, giving him the drive to get through, bite by bite. But that power began to slip the moment his vulnerable and considerably rounder middle exposed, and it left him feeling uneasy and unsure. 

“A change of flavour… is needed, my sweet Cricket.”, Ezra crooned, trying to exude as much confidence he could muster, despite his self-consciousness lingering in the back of his mind. He swallowed down a moan as your blown-pupiled eyes met his. He pushed a faux-confident smile and spoke softer. “Something sweeter, perhaps?” 

Letting a small huff escape, you nodded and got up from the bed, cursing him under your breath for having this much power over you. 

As you stood in the small kitchen area, waiting for the food rehydrator to loudly prepare the freeze-dried baked goods, you didn’t hear Ezra huff and grunt as he got off the bed and saunter into the kitchen. You weren’t alerted to his presence until his belly hit your back and his brass hand went to your hip.  

His nose and mouth pressed against the back of your neck, whispering filth as his hand cupped your breast and squeezed. 

“You leave yourself so vulnerable, sweet Cricket... back to the door, not an ounce of concern…. any rapscallion of low morals could take advantage… of your sweet, supple figure…” 

You let out a light, breathy whine gripping his hand as he kneaded your breast. As much as you wanted his hands on you, you wanted his mouth on your own more, so you pushed your body back against his, making enough room between him and the counter for you to turn around. His brass hand stayed on the curve of your waist, not offering any resistance, and his other hand cupped your cheek, holding it in place while he kissed you softly. His lips moved against yours like he was able to read your mind, or maybe even needed this point of contact as badly as you did. His mouth parted and his tongue pushed for entrance into your mouth, and once it was granted, the kiss fevered and boiled over. You felt your core throb with need and want, soaking your pants and already ruined underwear, and he crowded you against the counter. So wrapped up were you in his mouth and teeth and tongue, that you didn’t feel his brass hand move from your waist. 

In one swift move, Ezra shoved your pants down in the front enough for his brass hand to slip with no barrier into your folds. The cool touch you would have expected from it was long forgotten as the metal now met your body temperature. Still engulfed in the kiss that was beginning to rob your breath, the telltale clunk barely registered in your mind until the vibrations started. Sending a jolt through your body, you pulled your face away from his and let out a shrill gasp.  

The timer on the rehydrator went off, and Ezra chuckled darkly, watching your brows draw together and your eyes flutter.  

“The rules stay the same, Cricket. Sweet or savoury, I will have my fill and you will have your petite mort. But one will meet the other at the same time.”, he said in a wickedly soft tenor. “Now, you can begin holding up your end, sweet girl.” 

Once again, Ezra ripped away any power you might have had or believed you had, edging you with each bite, withholding his metal hand’s vibrations from the moment his mouth was empty to the moment your hand shakily pushed another bite past his lips. Overstimulation mixed with the pent-up fury of being denied an orgasm had you panting rapidly, tears threatening to spill over. High pitched whines and shuddering whimpers were all you could produce, and it was music to Ezra’s ears.  

“You… create the most… glorious cricket song…”, he mused softly as he chewed the mouthful. “Keep chirping, sweet girl…” 

You were coming to a point where you weren’t sure you would make it. Your brain felt like it was filled with the static from a communicator’s blank channel and your hearing and sight felt fuzzy. The coil tightening in your cunt was hitting a painful level, causing you to drop the next pastry you’d picked up with your shaking hands. 

As soon as it hit the floor, Ezra tsk’d you, and pulled his hand right out of your pants. The pained sob that burst from you from the loss of contact was loud and harsh, and the tears finally spilled over, staining your cheeks.  

“P-please… I… I can’t!”, you cried out, jutting your hand out clumsily to grab his wrist as he pulled back. His dark eyes scanned your desperate ones, pausing momentarily, before his gaze shifted to one of pity and amusement. 

“You can’t what?”, he mocked with a cruel grin. “Can’t what, sweet Cricket?” 

A rasped and pained whine peeled out of your throat as your head fell to his shoulder, and his hand gripped your hair and pulled back, forcing you to look at him. You looked ruined. Your cheeks flushed and eyes wet and lidded, your lips parted, turned down and chin quivering. He shoved up back and up onto the counter. 

“Oh, come now, sweet Cricket. Don’t look at me like I won’t give you your due.”, he whispered, ghosting his mouth over yours. His brass fingers traced lurid shapes along your inner thighs, causing your body to shiver and that coil painfully wind up in your core once more.  

“I asked you for something sweeter, pet,”, Ezra mockingly cooed as he pulled back, your face involuntarily following his to try and capture his lips against yours. He shook his head, smile tugging at one side of his mouth. “Something sweeter and you dropped it on the floor. It’s precious currency, Cricket, and you mishandled it.” 

Your eyes followed his, stuck in the trance he’d put you under. He could have told you to do anything, given any order and you would have obeyed to your detriment. His brass hand moved to your throat, long, metal fingers grasping just tight enough to keep you precariously seated on the edge of the counter. His thicker middle forced you legs open wide, and his other hand took its place between your legs and without warning, he shoved two fingers into your core.  

Your mouth and eyes widened as a wrecked gasp escaped you and your hands went to grab onto what ever meaty part of him you could grab for stability. Ezra hummed in response as the pads of his fingers felt the walls of your cannel twitch and flutter at his intrusion. 

“Good Kevva, sweet girl…”, he groaned, watching your face contort. “As much as this contraption of a limb can bring me such sadistic joy at your expense, my own digits needed to feel the silken walls of your inner sanctum.” 

As he pumped his fingers in and out of you, he dropped his forehead against yours and hummed again, answering your repeated whining pants and moans.  

“Keep chirping, Cricket… sing me your evening song… that’s it….”  

As you felt your peak come careening in, he felt your walls convulse and slicken up. The soft tenor he’s just lulled you into a steady rhythm with fell away and the low chuckle followed by his fingers being removed made you scream out and dig your nails into the fattened flesh of his upper arm and shoulder. 

“EZ-EZRA! PLEASE! FUCK-PLEASE!”, you sobbed out in a shriek.  

His brass hand’s hold tightened around your throat, and he shoved your shoulders flush with the wall behind counter roughly.  

Your desperate eyes looked him over as best as you could, given the position he had you in. His bloated and full stomach moved with each laboured breath he took and the strain he put himself under to wreck you was fully apparent. You could feel the outline of his clothed hard cock seated against your thigh and the sweat beading on his forehead. He wiped his face and parted his lips to take in deeper breaths; his irises were indiscernible from his pupils as he looked down at you. 

You had never known need like this, and you felt as though you were going to succumb due to your lack of orgasm as a final line in the life that Kevva had written for you. 

“P…please…” 

“Is it my cock you want to be impaled on, pet? You want to whine and mewl while I rut my quiver bone into your sopping celestial cavern?”, he coolly growled, but there was a slight waiver in his voice. You saw the same desperation in the dark abyss of his eyes. 

You nodded dumbly and he scowled, baring his teeth, and tore his brass hand off you, trying to make quick work of getting his flight suit off his shoulders. The arms were tight around his fleshy arms, and you shakily sat up and tried to help. Once his arms were free, you tugged the material over his waist, taking note of the roll of flesh sitting just above his waistband, showing just how much he had been indulging. You gave it a squeeze, revelling in the sound he made, sucking his breath thru his teeth at your fingers.  

“Marvel the fruits of your labour, Cricket… The destination you set me on course to has made me beyond redemption and unfit for galactic adventuring…”, he grunted breathily, shoving his flight suit off his legs before kicking it off entirely. “You have effectively rendered me useless beyond what effect I am able to wield on you.” 

He shoved his mouth against yours before you could respond or ask what he meant, sucking you into a bruising kiss. His hands gripped your hips, pulling your twitching cunt flush with his weeping, hard cock, knocking the plastic plate that held the desserts onto the floor at his feet. Fumbling slightly, he pulled back and gripped his member, before lining it up with your entrance and pushing it in all at once. The sting of his intrusion melded perfectly with the relief of finally connecting, and the sound you made caused Ezra to almost break. His eyes softened and his brows tented, body tense at the gentle yet firm, warm hold you had on him.   

“I’m af-afraid I’ve pushed too far to allow for… for niceties and gentle welcomes, sweet Cricket…”, he panted against your face, teeth clenched as he tried to focus and draw this out as long as possible.  

“Please move...”, you begged in a strained whine.  

“If I move to fast, sweet Cricket, I will... end this fortuitous connection with an... an early release, and that would render me- fuck!... render me less than a gentleman...” 

“You’re no gentleman... now shut up an-and fuck me!” 

It seemed that your tight walls and frantic begging were too much for Ezra, and he pulled out with a grunt, followed by a whine as he came onto the plate on the floor. The vulgar sounds of his panting breaths mixed with the sploot of his spend had you seeing red. 

“You asshole!”, you screeched, shoving him off you.  

He panted and held his hands up in surrender as you charged at him. 

“Cricket... forgive me! You’re too sweet... your sacred cavern was too - “ 

The slap you landed across his face stopped his fancy wordplay. “You fucking bastard!” 

Ezra’s eyes flashed in anger, and he stood to his full height, towering over you.  

“That was uncalled for, Cricket.”, he snarled. “I will take the wrath of meeting an end without you by my side, but I will not allow you to besmirch my good mother with a question of my paternal lineage.” 

You stared at him, eyes wide with anger at his audacity, and before you could say another word, he tackled you to the floor. You tried to fight him off but the moment you heard the clunk of his brass arm and felt two metal fingers punch up into your slick heat, you ceased your struggle.  

“See, sweet Cricket? I may be a wayward traveler, but even I know the dangers of leaving a woman on the precipice of completion... “ 

“Don’t stop... please... don’t stop...”  

The vibrations of his arm and the smooth curves of the worn metal fingers found a rhythm that had you seeing stars.  

“I plan to keep demanding your company each time I move through this sector, and-” 

“Oh Kevva... Ez-Ezra!” 

He leaned forward and ghosted his mouth over yours, speaking in a low, husky growl, “... if I were to fail you now, what kind of welcome would I receive the next time I darken your doorway?” 

Your eyes rolled into the back of your skull and your body arched off the floor. Pent up energy burst from your burning cunt, sending wave after wave of precious release through your body. The scream that peeled out of you was dampened by Ezra kissing you forcefully. 

His movement slowed and he slowly pulled his brass hand from your core. You were greeted with his grin as he looked over his brass hand. 

“You’ve polished only two fingers for me... there are three more.”, he cooed, placing a delicate kiss on the end of your nose. “Next time.” 

“N-next time?” 

He nodded and stood up with a grunt. You sat up carefully, and it seemed you both took note of the plate on the floor, covered in his cum. The chastisement was on your tongue, but never became words out loud as you were struck speechless as you watched him pick up the plate and fling it out the window.  

He turned back to you, standing naked in the kitchen, fat and sweaty, with a grin on his face.  

“There is always a next time, Cricket.” 

[starrynini05]

help, I need somebody – ahn yujin x kim gaeul x 7th member!reader

Summary: your leader and your eldest would always be by your side, it’s never to late to ask for help

warnings: mentions of sickness, anxiety, vomiting, fever

tags: idol!au ; reader is '05 liner ; 7th member!reader ; platonic!gaeul x reader ; platonic!yunjin x reader

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort, sickfic

word count: 1.3k

a/n: WE ARE SOO BACK‼️‼️, I’m sorry for disappearing, but I’m officially a high school graduate and have time to write again, I hope you like this and expect more regular updates 🫶🏻

Your dynamic in the group was very simple, being, a year and a half older than Leeseo you were in between the youngest and the adults. Apart from you and Leeseo everyone was a legal adult, being more than 19 and already out of school.

You were in the rare middle between not being quite an adult, but not a minor either. With only 17 years of age you still were required to leave events early and go to school, while also being expected to have enough responsibility to fulfill your duties as an idol.

Although you were the second youngest, you were not as nearly as coddled as the maknae and you knew it was mostly your fault. You were added to the lineup really close to debut, being a transfer trainee from SM. This made you reserved and somewhat scared of your teammates, mainly because you were really nervous around new people, and shy in general.

And, even if you longed for that care, you were too shy to willingly ask for it. Now, in your dimly lit room, you lay awake tangled in the sheets, shaking. Your members fast asleep in their respective rooms, blissfully unaware of the turmoil brewing within you.

Earlier that week, yours and Leeseo’s school had canceled classes due to a virus going around. Both of you were thankful that neither of you had caught it, but now you weren't so sure. During practice, you felt more tired than usual and a dull ache had installed in your body, but you gave it no thought.

Now curled up in your bed, trembling and with what you were sure was a high fever, you regretted not saying anything earlier. Nonetheless, refusing to wake the others, you convinced yourself that you could sleep it off and wake up the next morning feeling better.

You had worked so hard to create a perfect facade, you were too embarrassed to let it falter. But, as time went on you only felt worse, transforming it into a relentless torment. Beads of sweat clung to your forehead as you debated whether to wake Yujin and Gaeul. Your heart thumped like a drum, the anxiety of disturbing their slumber almost as unbearable as the pain.

Finally, with a surge of determination, you mustered the courage to knock lightly on their shared room door. Inside the room, both Yujin and Gaeul woke up confused as to why someone was bothering them at 2 a.m. Confusion turned into worry, and Yujin hurried to the door with concern. She was surprised to see you standing there, your usual calm demeanor replaced by an ashen hue of unease.

You cleared your throat, adjusting your posture so you wouldn’t look as fragile as you felt in front of her, at least. You hated looking fragile in front of anyone, let alone them. They were your elders and you didn’t want them to think of you as someone fragile or weak. Sensing your hesitance she broke the silence first “Is everything okay?" she asked, the concern in her voice genuine.

Even then you wanted to resist but she was looking at you with such caring eyes, and you just felt so tired. You sighed in defeat, not quite looking at her face, your voice barely audible as you responded, "I... I'm not feeling well." Yujin's eyes widened, her concern replacing any hint of amusement she might have felt at your shyness. "What's wrong?" she asked while motioning for you to enter the room and lay in her bed.

Your voice trembled with pain while you explained your symptoms, failing to see the frown on her face at your sudden drowsiness. With a tired groan, she helped you lay on the bed, placing her hand against your forehead. As she was about to comment on your high fever you suddenly jolted, a sudden wave of nausea dawning over you. You barely had time to run into a nearby trash can before you were violently sick. Gaeul, who was almost falling asleep, was now wide awake, hearing your retching sounds. She quickly got up and ran to your side, holding your hair back and rubbing your back soothingly. "Hey, hey, it's okay. You're going to be fine. Just breathe, alright?" she whispered, trying to calm you down.

Your face was flushed, your body trembling as you leaned over the bin. You felt tears sting your eyes as you emptied your stomach, feeling miserable and weak. You hated being sick, especially in front of them. You didn't want to bother them or make them worry about you. You wanted to be strong and independent, like they were. But right now, you couldn't help but feel grateful for their presence and support.

When you finally stopped throwing up, you leaned back against the bed, feeling exhausted and dizzy. Yujin handed you a glass of water and a wet towel, helping you clean your mouth and face. "How long have you been feeling like this?" she asked, her voice gentle but stern. You hesitated, not wanting to admit the truth. "Um... around 1 hour ago, I guess." you lied, hoping they wouldn't notice.

They did. Yujin and Gaeul exchanged a look of disbelief and disappointment. "An hour ago?" Yujin repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Are you sure? Because we saw you looking pale and tired during practice, and you barely ate anything at dinner. And you didn't say anything to us. Why didn't you tell us you were sick?"

You felt a surge of guilt and shame, knowing you had been caught. You lowered your eyes, avoiding their gaze. "I... I didn't want to bother you. You have so much to do, and I didn't want to be a burden. I thought I could handle it on my own. I'm sorry." you mumbled, feeling small and pathetic.

Yujin and Gaeul sighed, shaking their heads. They moved closer to you, wrapping their arms around you in a warm hug. "You're not a bother, or a burden, or anything like that. You're our friend, our teammate, our family. We care about you, and we want you to be happy and healthy. You don't have to handle everything on your own. You can always ask us for help, or tell us how you feel. We're here for you, no matter what. Do you understand?" Yujin said, her voice soft and sincere.

Gaeul nodded, adding her own words of comfort. "Yeah, what she said. You're amazing, and talented, and beautiful, and we love you so much. You don't have to hide your feelings or pretend to be okay when you're not. You don't have to be perfect, or strong, or anything else. You just have to be yourself, and that's enough for us. You're enough, okay?"

You felt a wave of emotion wash over you, making you choke up. You couldn't believe how lucky you were to have them in your life, how much they cared about you, how much they accepted you. You nodded, feeling a smile tug at your lips. "Okay. Thank you. I love you too." you said, hugging them back.

They smiled, kissing your cheeks and forehead. "You're welcome. We're glad you're feeling better." they said, tucking you in the bed. "Now, you need to rest. We'll stay with you until you fall asleep, and then we'll call the manager and the doctor in the morning. Don't worry about anything, we'll take care of everything. Just focus on getting well, alright?"

You nodded, feeling a wave of relief and gratitude. You closed your eyes, feeling their warmth and love surround you. You drifted off to sleep, feeling safe and secure in their arms. You knew you had nothing to fear, as long as they were with you. You knew you had found your home, with them.

[hetchiew]

another cold update in wav form? you sound so sick yet so hot that all I want todo is take care of you and cuddle you😅😅

Contains: sneezing, hitching, stuffy sniffles, a nose blowing attempt (I’m too stuffy to really blow properly), & other pathetic stuffy noises (“guh”)

Welp! I’ve been sick for 5 days now, and I still sound awful…😅

My fever broke yesterday though, so that’s a good sign!🎉

[aftgficrec]

Hi! Thanks so much for doing this i have wanting to catch you open for so long!! How are you? I hope you have a good day!

I was wondering if there were any fics focused on neil and mary/neil and Nathan? Like his emotions, thoughts, etc, and the things he went through bcs of them/how they still affect him even now? Thank you so much in advance!

Our poor traumatized Neil! Yes, there is much to explore on this topic. -A

most previous asks lead to more recs:

angsty bad days for Neil here

Neil with ptsd here

more Neil with DID here

Neil cries, comforted by Andrew/foxes here

Neil says ‘it’s fine I’ve had worse’ here

Neil’s scars 2 here

scars and healing here

Neil goes to therapy here 

Neil attempts suicide here

‘You're Wonderful’ here

‘Hold My Hand?,’ ‘I'll Still Solve You,’ and ‘Fear (but not of you)’ here

‘The Books of Baltimore’ series: ‘Ghost of You’ here, ‘Run to You’ here

‘the upswing’ (completed), ‘please (don't bite),’ ‘Will you love me for who I am…’ ‘To be safe,’ ‘Safe with him,’ and ‘i called your name ‘til the fever broke’ here 

‘my friends and I…,’ ‘Pasts Intertwined,’ ‘My Stomach is a Wasteland,’ ‘side effects may vary’ ‘Bad Apple,’ and ‘You Are So Much More Than Your Father's Son’ here 

‘Medicated rabbits don't run as fast’ here

‘Broken Symmetries’ and ‘No More Fucks To Give’ (updated) here

‘24 Floors’ here

‘A Quiet Little Seedling,’ ‘If I Knew You,’ and ‘Step By Step’ here

‘slow down (you crazy child),’ ‘Make a Home’ (updated), and ‘make me a promise’ here

‘Dreamed in red’ here

‘...Just Us, and Y(our) Friend Kevin’ here 

‘Nothing Mattered Until You’ here (jeanneil)

amputation or permanent leg damage:

Neil's legs (the fucked up edition) here and here

Neil dies/amputations in Baltimore here

‘La jetée n'est plus loin’ here

‘I’m More Than This Body of Mine’ here (completed)

‘Next to You’ here

‘Rare pair hell series’ part 9 here

‘Live for you / Stay for me’ here 

‘“I pick up daddies at the playground.”’ here

‘lie to me (for i do not wish to live the truth)’ here

‘White Hands’ and ‘If Neil, Then Fox’ here

‘(don’t fear) the reaper’ here

‘Under the kitchen lights…’ here

‘Point Nemo’ here

‘Lifelines’ here

‘does the dog die at the end’ here

you may also like:

Neil runs after joining the foxes 2 here

andreil on the run from the mafia here

soulmates who feel each other's pain here

Mary/Nathan's people come back here

Mary tries to take Neil from the foxes here

Neil kills Nathan here

tell me where i came from, what i will always be by geeseproblems [Rated G, 317 Words, Complete, 2021]

She lives in his body like no other.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: canonical character death

Down with Something by pawnofkings [Rated T, 3051 Words, Complete, 2021]

Neil is sick, and he does his best to keep anyone from finding that out. He collapses in the middle of practice.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

you asked for this by Anonymous [Rated M, 790 Words, Complete, 2022, Locked]

Neil Josten and guilt

tw: implied major character death, tw: child abuse, tw: emotional abuse, tw: blood, tw: negative self talk

A reflection or a lie by ShadowDolphin [Rated G, 839 Words, Complete, 2022]

Sixteen year old Neil Josten has an identity crisis cuz depersonalization is a wonderful thing that exists and he doesn't feel real

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

i know you'll take me with you by lil_macaroon [Rated T, 6129 Words, Complete, AFTG Mixtape Exchange 2023]

Neil has feelings that make him want to run. The only thing that keeps him at Palmetto State, hell, what keeps him in South Carolina, is the promise he made when Andrew asked him to stay three years ago. Unable to run, it all keeps building within him until one day, Andrew puts him in the car, and they go.

keep your head above the water (I can’t) by drewdrop44 [Rated T, 1156 Words, Complete, 2022]

The feeling of water moving over his head, swallowing him whole. Neil woke with a scream trapped in his mouth.

tw: drowning, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: violence, tw: nightmares 

It's a punch and a kiss, I'm trying to remember by beckdarkthrone [Not Rated, 18604 Words, Incomplete, Updated June 2024]

He has a hold on himself as Neil, as Abram, as Nathaniel.. Until he doesn't.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: dissociative disorder, tw: blood, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: internalized homphobia

NB: this author has a podcast with aftg-centric episodes; check out ‘So You Think You Like’ on spotify.

We're all Monsters Here by serene_chaos [Not Rated, 892 Words, Complete, 2022]

"I am part of the slaughter house. I feel that makes me more of a monster than you.” “Don’t look at me to absolve you.” Andrew flicks his cigarette towards Neil. Sparks landing inches from Neil’s hand. OR Neil doesn't think Andrew is a monster, but thinks he might be.

tw: childhood trauma, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture

Who Am I to You? by serene_chaos [Rated M, 91907 Words, Incomplete, Updated April 2024]

Neil Josten was born with violence in his blood and raised as a weapon to hide in plain sight. And then he finds himself surrounded by foxes and his usual survival tactics ruined by a five foot goalie. The whole mobster mafia problem isn’t helping either. -- Cue a Neil who cares a little less, a past raven, and potentially a little something more to live for.

tw: attempted rape, tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: murder, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: attempted nonconsensual drug use, tw: panic attacks, tw: flashbacks, tw: homophobia, tw: alcohol abuse/alcoholism, tw: animal abuse, tw: implied/referenced self harm 

you will always be my favorite form of loving by something_boring [Rated T, 15831 Words, Complete, 2024]

5 times the Foxes tried to take care of Neil and 1 time they didn't have to.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: panic attacks, tw: nightmares, tw: alcohol abuse, tw: blood, tw: vomit, tw: violence, tw: bullying

pain our brain has made by pipedreamaddy [Rated M, 16052 Words, Incomplete, Updated July 2024]

Neil and his discovery that he has trauma-induced migraines because we all know how he neglects his health. Between everything else going on with him, a migraine seemed very minor to him. But now that he is in a healthy, safe, and loving environment where he is thriving, he can take care of himself—theoretically speaking, at least. Or the fic where Neil finally gets the healing that he needs.

tw: needles, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: childhood trauma, tw: implied/referenced torture,  tw: flashbacks, tw: ptsd, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced murder

Keep Your Head Down and Don't Look Back by Capheira [Rated G, 775 Words, Complete, 2024]

Neil has spent most of his life running from his past but perhaps this time he was a little too efficient.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: panic attacks

Scars Like Stars by Kory_Rory [Rated T, 3429 Words, Incomplete, Updated June 2024]

Neil deals with his trauma by biting himself while being completely oblivious to the harm he's putting himself through. But it's okay cause the foxes are there to help him :)

tw: self harm, tw: body dysmorphia, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: negative self talk, tw: flashbacks 

I’m not used to all this water, love (it’s true) by niicowo [Rated T, 1415 Words, Complete, 2024]

Neil never thought anyone could ever love him. His parents never made him feel loved. But then again, what did he know about love? Nothing, he guessed. But one thing he did know was that Andrew loved him. And he just may love him too.

tw: past suicidal ideation, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced child abuse

Razor’s Edge by godless_writer [Rated T, 2178 Words, Complete, 2023]

Neil Josten, a caring, shit-talking, striker for the Palmetto State Foxes. Nathaniel Wesninski, a runner, and the son of The Butcher of Baltimore. When Neil thinks that Andrew is in danger after he walks into Kevin and Andrew fighting, his world turns red and those lines become blurred.

tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: dissociation

Don't let me be by Cutie_Wan [Not Rated, 1983 Words, Complete, 2023]

Neil suffers a major dissociation episode in front of the Foxes.

tw: dissociation, tw: self harm, tw: violence

grin and bear it by wlwmlmsolidarity [Rated G, 1221 Words, Complete, 2024]

neil has chronic pain due to lola and tries to just ignore it and push through on a bad pain day, andrew forcefully makes him relax and accept help

tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: chronic pain

NB: includes fanart by @clementinecloudz

scream and yell but i feel speechless by DepressedTerrestrial [Not Rated, 6770 Words, Complete, 2023]

Neil had some unnecessary surgery done when he was younger. No one (including Neil) knows how to handle this except for Andrew (kind of).

tw: past medical abuse, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture

Isn't he the monster by DarkD [Not Rated, 16033 Words, Complete, 2021]

On a day when Neil "wakes up" in a particularly bad mood, hearing anyone being cruel to Andrew becomes unbearable to the point that he is on the verge of an explosion.

tw: violence, tw: blood, tw: self harm, tw: dissociation, tw: panic attacks, tw: child abuse

Art

Day 19: bullet and Day 4: stitches art by @thefluffiestbird

Nathan was known for his extravagant parties and incredible entertainment art by @mac-monsters; twitter

Neil & Mary on the run edit by @romanovass

These ouches feel a little rough for a child on the run. comic by @softerstorms

“Don’t you dare be more afraid of me than you are of Andrew” art by @rainbowd00dles 

There’s nowhere to run art by @/tryashaa on instagram

“I’m fine” - *literally dying* art by @/koldangrey_art on instagram

[theblindtree]

Spider-Sona lore dump with IMAGES

btw this is a long read and will be updated in the future if I get cool ideas

glhf

the Huntsman

The Huntsman, also known as Piotr Parkowski is a spiderman from Earth i (specificaly changed by Miguel O’hara due to its danger)

Poland, 1975. Piotr was working at an equivalent of a convenience store owned by his parents when a sheep broke in and bit him. The sheep was later captured by soviet scientists. The next day Piotr was feeling sick, sadly local doctors did not understand what happened and simply wrote it off as a heavy fever. The next day his body was extended, his legs all over the place and the same with his arms, but the place that should have had flesh had webs that were holding him together like small ropes. He stayed in his room for the next few days until he could hold himself together in the form that he was before the accident, or at least what he wanted to look without being too outlandish. After some time a cannon event happened, or at least should have since he saved his grandfather or at least tried since he died later in the hospital. His grandfather has seen his powersing and the typical “with great power comes great responsibility” talk. He tailored himself a suit, and since his body was like webs he made it themed on a spider, it was very simple but it ripped apart easily since he needed to extend his body to use his powers.

After years of crime fighting aliens came, they wanted to take over the Earth since it had a bunch of resources, Piotr fought them, and since he was winning the aliens started fighting dirty. They kidnapped him and went with him towards a black hole to throw him away there. In a singular moment he woke up from the trans because he felt pain in one of his fibers. In the last ditch effort he used all of his remaining energy he grabbed the ship so it would go into the singularity with him.

postmortem

He saw nothing. He felt infinite pain that bended itself into pure nothingness. seconds became years, milenia became milliseconds, time became length and it all just blended into nothing until he felt a slight strength to come out of the pull. Surprisingly he actually did it but his body was not one of the men, it was purely white and black and looked as if it was just a ball of cut up yarn. until he saw himself in a piece of space junk, after that he tried to fuse together into a body that he found familiar but he mostly failed as even his body was alien, his limbs twisted and spiraling.

After months of drifting in space he went to Earth, but the land he once called home rejected him. nobody remembered him, there was no grave for him, as if he never existed. but he has not rejected his people, even if he was a grotesque man-like creature. A few years went by, everybody aged but not him. He was still hated, but he did not care. In mere moments his planet disappeared just like he has. he was floating between the rubble. Galactus, a creature that seemed stronger than gods has appeared before him but Piotr, now just spider-man since he could not remember his own name, has escaped in fear. During the time he was hiding he explored the universe and obtained power, he killed and helped, he obtained the infinity stones and placed them around his eyes, he obtained all-black and placed it inside him so the symbiotes would be under his control. His body became more twisted and more stable. The black took up most of his body while the white, that once was the majority, turned into the symbol of a spider. After that he went to find Galactus and when he found him… he got his ass whooped. He was devastated, as he could not defend other planets but as he was being beaten he saw something, a machine, it was a drill that was mining the literal edge of the universe and surprisingly it actually was doing damage to the wall. in his mind he connected the dots, he knew that if he, a being of space, using an ancient weapon could have not defeated him then nobody could. In the last ditch effort he created a black hole in the center of the universe, it grew and grew until it contained the whole universe, until it was strong enough for nothing but him to escape.

multiverse

He was looking into the singularity. It stared back.

After a while of staring into the darkness a portal opened and a vampire got pulled out of it by the black hole. After a moment of confusion he looked through the portal and went through it, he looked around and created a small black hole to teleport somewhere else. He went and went to many universes where people actually exist and then he appeared in the spider society. Of course a white hole in the middle of the room was seen by everyone. He wasn't concerned by being seen since he was surrounded by a bunch of different spider-men, he was confused and interested by all the people around. after some time of staring at the halls and people he was captured and started to be interrogated by the leader Miguel O’hara, he wasn't speaking but instead just escaping, once by shapeshifting and then by using black holes as portals, seeing this Miquel saw what he was doing and started to contain him. Of course any way of closing him in a cell was worthless so he started to explore more obscure ways and landed on one that worked, securing him into an idol using gods of ancient Egypt, so he did it (i'm not explaining this, it kinda happened in moon knight). so he was enclosed, placed on a podium, guarded by cameras…

the end hey what the fuck are you do-

so… just after a few weeks the idol was destroyed by a kid. Widow looked at him confused, he was some kind of latino, maybe an European, he did not know but he was definitely O’hares kid (or so he assumed). He thanked the kid and gave him a chocolate bar that he quickly threw away since he was pretty sure it was radioactive. Of course Miguel runned up quickly and was furious so he disappeared in a black hole leaving a note with his universes number and a warning to not go there under any circumstances. when he appeared in a new reality he saw something weird, a spider-man being killed by some kind of vampire. He quickly killed the vampire but for some reason he knew it wasn't the end. He came back to spider society to research it. He found out about inheritors, and since he was immortal and not really seen as a good guy by the spider society he started to hunt them for the sake of the other spider-men. Now he comes back from time to time to the society to talk around and hear if anyone spotted the vampires, mostly he asks spiders-man since they are around the multiverse.

the new faction

Seeing the fact that he's the only one fighting them he, in his own universe, created a room. It was simple, a recreation of the room he had as a child. He looked around and thought, if there is a society of spider-men and he was not seen as one of them but a foe, there have to be more spider-men that are also seen in the same way. So he sneaked into the spider society where now he's seen more as an urban legend than a real person. He looked around the files and saw it, saw something weird, files on every spider-men, the ones that are and aren't a part of the spider society and saw even the files that were straight up banned due to the spider-man showed there were called “dangerous” or “unstable” or even “anomalies”. He saw it as a dumb idea, why should spidermen that are dangerous be seen as useless for the whole spider society. He stole the files and looked around the multiverse to find them and recruit them. one of the first spider-men he found a version of peter parker that was a zombie. he walked up to him, knowing that he could not be killed, and talked to him like if to a most normal person to ever exist and surprisingly it worked, so the first spider-man that he talked to became a friend and was transported into his room. he appeared there after the new spider-man, he looked around and created a new room, a large room so the new spider-man could be happy. He then went and repeated it more and more times again until he created basically a small army. sadly he had no way of allowing them transport by themself, he knew it would be risky but he did trust them, because of this he went into a universe he knew had something interesting. he went to hell of one of the worst universes and sold his soul, knowing well that it did not matter since he is immortal and not from this universe. due to the deal he became a ghost rider but yet, he did not care, he was already a part of the idea of them so he just went back into his universe with a very important thing he got for his soul (being a ghost rider was just a side effect), knowledge of how to transport the multiverse. After coming back into his universe he created the blueprints and showed it to the spider-men that followed him. He then went to the spider-men HQ to give back the files but he was caught by Miguell. of course did not really care since he knew how he was captured once, he explained the idea he had and how he and Miguell should collaborate in a way, the way being that he does his stuff and tells what happened to Miguell and Miguell would just leave him alone and help him recruit some more people if they wanted to. Miguell agreed to the deal and went along with it since he understood that Huntsman was doing this for a reason.

Failure

Turns out, the inheritors were defeated years after his organization started and he knew nothing about it, making the whole thing weirder was that they were killing actual vampires that did not prey on spider-men. To say he was devastated about his failure would be an understatement. Death made an announcement that every spider-man in his universe would soon be teleported to their original ones since there was no need for their collaboration. What felt like years passed, the hawking radiation of the blackhole that was most of the universe got stronger yet he did not notice. After another time, once again that felt like years, the whole structure fell into the black hole, leaving him inside of it, slowly turning into strings that barely held together. After some time he noticed something weird, instead of pitch black he noticed a few strings that were blue and purple. Galactus escaped.

last message

He was shocked, Galactus not only escaped the prison he created but also the universe that contained the prison.

The last message from the huntsman was to Miquel O’hara.

“HE ESCAPED! THE DRAGON ESCAPED!”

“IF ANYONE SEES STRANDS OF RED AND BLUE RUN! RUN! TELL THEM THAT!”

“HE TOOK MY LEGS! I CAN'T REMEMBER HOW THEY LOOK!”

“I'M CHASING HIM! I WON'T LET HIM KILL!”

The huntsman was only seen on occasion.

I hoped you liked the lore guys

btw, the kid that freed him was a spider-sona of my lovely moot @lisisdead big shout-out to them, without them my spidersona could not have more trauma

[tuttle-4077]

A Detour

What should I be doing? Well, I should be updating my story. What am I actually doing? Taking another detour into my headcanon biographies. Our next contestant is....

Hogan

Born August 2nd, 1908 in Bridgeport, Connecticut. His father was in the US Army so he moved around a lot as a kid. His mother, a German immigrant, taught him German as his first language. His little brother, William, was born in 1910. Hogan tried to be a good big brother, and he and William often schemed together to cause all sorts of (harmless) mischief. His parents always encouraged Hogan to explore his creativity, even when it might have been a little reckless. His father tried to impart some wisdom on his son: “It’s fine to take risks, son, but you’ve gotta be smart about it. Luck only takes you so far.”

However, it seemed Hogan was born with four rabbit’s feet because he was indeed lucky. Things that should have gotten him killed all seemed to work out for him. And it became quite obvious very early on that he was oozing charisma. He could charm a dog out of its bone, and often used the gift of gab to get his way with things. While a decent student, he wasn’t all too interested in school. As a result, his grades were middling, but his silver tongue often allowed him to talk his teachers into giving him better grades. He did, however, excel in history which he found fascinating. 

As a child, Hogan had two dogs– a German Shepherd named Sarge, and a beagle named Snoopy. Whenever he and William found themselves in a new town and a new school, they knew they always had each other and their dogs as built-in friends. However, neither boy struggled with making friendships. Even from an early age, Hogan was immensely popular and other children were drawn to him. He would often make up elaborate games for everyone to play during recess. No one was left out. He always found something for everyone to do.

When Hogan was 7, his father took him to an airshow. He fell in love with airplanes. He was bananas over them. He decided right then and there that he was going to be a pilot when he grew up.

Occasionally, the Hogans would travel to Germany to visit his mother’s family. Hogan was adored by his grandmother and he made friends with all his cousins. But he would often be teased by their friends for his obvious American accent.

When war broke out in Europe, his father often went overseas as an ‘observer’ and was gone for months at a time, leaving Hogan as the man of the house. When America finally entered the war, his father left for the duration. As ‘man of the house’ Hogan let the power go to his head and began ordering his brother around. This led to a few tussles between the two. Finally his mother sat him down and taught him there was more to being a leader than just issuing orders. A good leader knew it was their own actions that earned them respect and his brother would be more willing to listen to him if he modeled the behaviour he wanted to see.

When WWI ended, Hogan’s father returned home and life went back to normal. The Spanish Flu hit the household hard, but they all managed to pull through. However, a few years later, William came down with scarlet fever. Hogan was sent away to live with his cousins to prevent him from getting sick. This time, William wasn’t so lucky and died just shy of his 13th birthday. Hogan and his parents were, of course, devastated. And Hogan seemed to think that if he had just been there, William would still be alive.

Life went on. Hogan’s family still traveled to Germany on occasion (partly to provide cover for his father to do reconnaissance on their post-war environment). Hogan remembered being teased for his American accent and worked hard to modify it by studying and mimicking the locals. Eventually, his accent improved to the point that no one could tell he wasn’t born and raised in Cologne. 

Hogan was immensely popular in high school. Though he enjoyed baseball, he was never really much of a jock. He did, however, take up the drums in band class and discovered he had a great sense of rhythm. He almost thought he might want to pursue that instead of flying, but figured he could do both. He was the type of guy in high school that everyone liked and respected, who went out of his way to make ‘the little guy’ feel valued. He was also very popular with the girls and never let himself get nailed down to just one (how he got away with playing the field so vigorously without leaving many broken and bitter hearts in his wake could be attributed to his charisma and good looks). 

Hogan figured the best way to become a pilot was to join the army, so he was part of the JROTC in school. His father strongly encouraged him to work on his grades so he could get into West Point. Through hard work and a bit of finagling, he managed to maintain high grades. And, with the endorsement of his congressional representative (and perhaps some finagling on his father’s part for the admission’s officer to overlook Hogan’s less than stellar, though not terrible, math marks), he did end up getting admitted into West Point, where he studied history and philosophy. He graduated in 1930 with a commission as a second lieutenant. 

During his own career, Hogan’s father had moved up through the ranks in Intelligence. Aside from his minor intervention to get Hogan accepted into West Point, he maintained a hands-off approach to Hogan’s endeavours. He didn’t want there to be any perceived favouritism. On his own merits, Hogan began to make a name for himself in the Army Air Corps. He was a skilled pilot and the men easily fell in line behind him. It was not long before he was promoted to First Lieutenant and then Captain.

In 1937, Hogan was one of the first to fly the new B-17. He fell in love and soon became an expert in every aspect of the bomber. 

When war broke out in Europe in 1939, Hogan knew it was only a matter of time until America entered the war. The next year, was sent to England to observe the RAF’s operation. Though he was only meant to observe, Hogan often joined bomber crews in the air and even piloted a Wellington bomber on several missions. The British bombing campaign lacked the necessary technology to be effective, and Hogan disliked the idea of their bombing runs being little more than ‘terror raids’. He would lobby his British counterparts to consider returning to daylight bombing to increase their effectiveness and limit civilian casualties. On the occasions he would return to the States, he pressed for the Air Corps to share its technology (such as the Norden bombsight) with the British. But, being officially neutral in the conflict, his requests were denied. However, his superiors did know that Hogan was actively participating in bombing runs and turned a blind eye to it. 

When America entered the war, Hogan was brought back to the states and promoted to Major. He used his experience to train bomber crews. He was put in charge of the 504th Bomb Group and sent back to England. He was part of America’s first B-17 bombing run on August 17, 1942. The mission was a success but he realized the immense danger attached to daylight bombing. He began to work on strategies to avoid major casualties, including staggered box formations. He flew as many missions as he could, not wanting to leave his men without their leader. He was quickly promoted, practically skipping past Lieutenant Colonel, to full bird colonel (such quick promotions are not unheard of in war. General James Gavin– who was a Major General at only 37– was also given a quick succession of promotions. Not as quick as Hogan does here, but I’m working with a limited timeline to sort of fit canon. Also note that, after the war, General Gavin was demoted to Major and it took another 8 years to work his way back up through the ranks to Major General again).

At some point, he was approached by Major Campbell of Intelligence to meet with General O’Malley in London. He was pitched the idea of “Operation Unsung Heroes”. But while the idea was intriguing, Hogan’s love was flying, so he politely declined.

Between missions, Hogan would travel to other Bomb Groups to lecture on staggered box formations and other strategies. Back at the 504th, he enjoyed immense success with their bombing campaigns and, with more planning and better strategies, started to bring casualties down while increasing their effectiveness. However, that all came to an end on December 5th, 1942 when his squadron was ambushed by an incredible showing from the Luftwaffe. Hogan was shot down. Upon landing, he badly twisted his ankle and was captured.

However, Hogan didn’t intend to sit out the war as a prisoner. Hogan was able to escape twice before he even made it to the Dulag. However, his ankle slowed him down and he was caught every time (although on his second attempt, he had made it all the way from Glashütten to Sossenheim before being caught). Up to that point, he had been in Luftwaffe custody, but after his third escape (this time from the Dulag hospital) he was turned over to the Gestapo. 

The Gestapo tortured and interrogated him for weeks, but Hogan never cracked. Finally, while sitting in his darkened cell, he was visited by a man who introduced himself as Nimrod. He brought up “Operation Unsung Heroes”. Hogan didn’t trust him, but Nimrod used a code to prove he was on Hogan’s side. Nimrod explained that their choice to head the operation had been killed before arriving and he asked Hogan if he would take the job. Hogan weighed his options and decided he had a better chance of fighting back against the Germans with this opportunity than if he tried to escape and return to England on his own.

Hogan was soon transferred back into Luftwaffe custody and, after a stint in the hospital, was transferred to Stalag 13. He was met with suspicion since he was an officer in an enlisted camp. Kommandant Klink also protested his arrival, but was told that having an officer there might help keep his unruly prisoners in line. 

It took a while for Hogan to feel out the men at Stalag 13 and form his main group of operatives. Some were already stationed in his barracks but those who weren’t were quickly transferred in. He told these men about the operation and, of course, they were extremely skeptical. At that point Kinch was the de facto leader (having orchestrated the removal of the previous Kommandant, Colonel Ruger), and he convinced the others to give Hogan a chance. Hogan ordered the men to dig down forty feet under the barracks. It seemed ludicrous, but they grudgingly followed orders and found that at the 40 foot mark, lay a network of old mine tunnels. Inside were several dusty old boxes containing the supplies needed to start up their operation.

Thus, Operation Unsung Heroes began, with Colonel Hogan taking on the codename Papa Bear. It started out small and it took several weeks for the prisoners to make reliable contacts in town (namely Max the grocer and Oskar Schnitzer, the veterinarian). Finding contacts and planning escape routes was dangerous work, but the heroes managed to make it work. While Nimrod had laid the foundation with the camp location and the supplies, the heroes built everything else up themselves. Eventually, they were ready for travellers, and Hogan, dressed as a Luftwaffe captain, visited other Stalags under the pretense of inspecting them, to spread the word to prisoners that Hogan knew could be trusted (many were his own men from the 504th). If they could escape and make it to Stalag 13, Papa Bear would get them home.

After helping several escapees return to England, London pressed Papa Bear to do more. They wanted them to gather and relay intelligence and engage in sabotage. They sent a demolition expert to the camp, but he turned out to be a German agent. The heroes swiftly eliminated him. By chance, one of the men who had passed through while escaping turned out to be an amateur chemist. Carter was recruited and the team was complete. Papa Bear’s organization expanded and soon the name Papa Bear became infamous in the Hammelburg/Dusseldorf area, capturing the interest of the Gestapo and especially Major Hochstetter.

Near the end of the war, Hogan came down with a bad case of the flu which progressed into pneumonia. He did his best to maintain the operation but, at that point, London’s involvement was limited as their attention was focussed on supporting the troops moving Eastward. Eventually, he had to admit he was in no position to lead the organization, no matter how limited their capacity for sabotage was at the moment (he wouldn’t go so far as to admit that Wilson had finally scared him into temporarily relinquishing his command). During the so-called Battle of Stalag 13, Hogan managed to pull himself from his sickbed to help defend the camp, but the efforts exhausted him and his pneumonia took a turn for the worse. Still, when the American tanks rolled into camp, he was able to greet the liberators and worked to coordinate their return to London. 

While in London, he learned that the war, while officially over, was still a danger. He had made many enemies as Papa Bear and one, in particular, was in a position to enact a bit of revenge. At first he suspected Hochstetter. There had been rumours that the Gestapo agent had fled, but no one knew where he was. Whoever was after him attempted to kill Schultz and Klink, Carter and Newkirk. He did succeed in killing Langenscheidt and Private Lopez (a man from Hogan’s Barracks). The assassin also planted a bomb in General O’Malley’s office, killing the general and several other officers– including Major Campbell. Hogan was injured, but survived and was more determined than ever to stop the madman’s revenge. Eventually, working with his men, he tracked down the killer and ensured justice was served.

With O’Malley dead and several files on Operation Unsung Heroes lost in the explosion, it took until Christmas before Intelligence was satisfied with the heroes’ briefing and finally agreed to send them home. Hogan was demoted back to Major and intended to leave the espionage world behind and focus on flying. He even thought that, before long, he would retire from the army and perhaps start his own flight school.

Hogan returned to the States to spend time with his family. However, before returning home himself, his father suffered a heart attack and died in England. The news devastated Hogan and his mother. Shortly after, Hogan was approached by the army to transfer into intelligence. His work as Papa Bear had given him valuable contacts within Germany and he could use those to track down Nazi officers who had escaped justice. However, Intelligence was aware that the Russians threatened the stability of post-war Europe and perhaps even the world. They hoped Hogan would establish himself in the Russian zones in order to cultivate contacts and an identity for if and when Russia seized total control of the area. Hogan agreed, partly to somehow fill a hole his father had left, but also because he had already fought so hard to end the war in Europe that he wanted to do what he could to make sure it remained peaceful.

By chance, while he was in Europe, Hogan met up with Maurice DuBois who informed him that Tiger had had a child sometime before the invasion of Normandy (in reality, it was after the invasion, but before Paris could be liberated). DuBois didn’t know where the child was, but did know where Tiger had left him. Hogan, not knowing if the child was his or not, decided to do a cursory search. The church where the child had been left was destroyed, but he was able to make contact with other former underground agents who gave him a name and a date. However, Hogan was apprehensive about doing a thorough search. Again, he didn’t know if the child was his, and either way, he had a lot of work to do. And, if he was going to search for anyone, he was going to start with Sergeant Olsen.

Hogan met up with Marya and while her allegiances were still murky, it became obvious to him that she was no fan of Stalin or his regime. The best he could figure, Marya was loyal to Russia and its people, not necessarily the levers of power within the Motherland. She spent many nights teaching him, among other things, how to speak Russian so he could more easily operate behind the Iron Curtain.

Hogan established himself within Germany and beyond, gathering all sorts of intelligence and occasionally pulling off an act or two of sabotage. At times he partnered with an MI6 agent, one Peter Newkirk, to accomplish his goals.

Hogan’s contact with Marya was sporadic, but it was she who finally found a lead on Olsen’s whereabouts. Three years after the war had ended, they tracked him to a POW camp in Siberia. They rescued him and returned him home to the States.

After finding Olsen, Hogan took some time to also track down Tiger’s child. His search was frustrating and had to be conducted between his assigned Intelligence operations, but finally he found the child and it was apparent that the boy was his own son. While he didn’t know how a child would fit into his life, he brought his son, Bernard, to the States and took some time away from his espionage to settle into a semi-normal life. But that didn’t last long. The CIA came a-knocking and Hogan was back in the field. He managed to balance both responsibilities quite well until he felt Bernard was old enough to do without him for longer periods of time, which he then spent in Europe. While living his 'normal' life, Hogan had several female companions, but he never committed to any of them. He preferred to stay a bachelor, either because a wife would complicate his life even more, or because he realized that his heart would always belong to Tiger.

In 1955, Hogan received word that Carter had been kidnapped by Major Hochstetter. He was unable to make it in time to rescue Carter himself, arriving shortly after Carter was freed by Kinch. The aftermath of the event and Hochstetter’s escape infuriated Hogan. He and Newkirk once again teamed up, hunting the former Gestapo Major down until they found him in Argentina. This time, Hogan ensured Hochstetter would never bother anyone else ever again. After that, the heroes did their best to reestablish their connection to each other (which had faded somewhat in the years following the war) and even met up a few times in various places.

As Bernard grew older, Hogan’s relationship with him became rocky. Hogan, under the guise of being a travelling salesman, was always away and Bernard grew resentful. And, though he had always been a leader of men, dealing with his rebellious teenage son was far outside Hogan’s wheelhouse. However, after Bernard learned his father’s secret (unbeknownst to Hogan) their relationship thawed a little.

By the mid-sixties, it became harder and harder for Hogan to pull off his espionage antics and he seriously considered retiring from not only field work, but the army in general. However, he never got the chance. During his last mission in 1966, something went wrong and Hogan was shot and killed while trying to rescue prisoners of war who had been taken from Vietnam to Russia.

News of Hogan’s death didn’t reach his friends and family until the following year, and even then it was never confirmed. Newkirk devoted quite a bit of time trying to track down the truth and possibly return his body to the States, but none of his leads panned out. The heroes held a memorial for their leader which drew in nearly everyone from Stalag 13 who was still alive to attend, prisoners and guards alike, including Klink.

[npookie0]

Taking care of your overworked angel.

_____________________________________________

Trigger warnings!

- Nothing but sweet fluff to find here >:3

- Fear of disappointing someone

_____________________________________________

For as long as you know Angel, you always knew that this woman was overworked, mostly because of her trashy manager. But even with him gone, Angel was still putting a lot on her plate. A new video idea here, a new asshole to kill there, and it all summed up with her staying up at nights.

You and Ronin were both worried about her and her health, after all no human being was able to stay healthy like this. Both of you tried your hardest to get her to stop working as much on the channel and take a short break. But Angel can really be a stubborn woman.

Unfortunately the worries you and Ronin both expressed became true. You were sitting on the edge of Angel's bed as she was whimpering from the fever she caught. She was coughing, sneezing and shivering.

You had to use some serious strength and persuasion to have her stay in bed, and call off the photoshoot that she was supposed to give for one of the big clothing companies.

User: Angel, for gods sake. Why couldn't you just move some things around in your schedule? If it wasn't for me you could end up in the hospital!

You weren't the type of person to hide your feelings, so it was only natural for you to show just how worried you felt in that moment.

User: And it's not just me who's worried, Ronin is spamming my DMs to keep him updated on how you're doing. Seriously he almost came here, but I told him that you have to rest and he wouldn't really help.

You sighed. Angel moved her hand to cup your cheek and you hold onto it, nuzzling you cheek against her hot palm..

Angel: ... I'm sorry, I... I just don't want to disappoint my fans with the lack of updates.

She said and your gaze softened.

User: Angel, your fans would want you to stay healthy and not basically kill yourself with the amount of work you put into your channel and modelling.

Your lip trembled at the thought of Angel possibly ending up in the hospital because of her perfectionist nature. Angel seemed to notice just how worried her stubbornness made you, her lover, her partner, the person who was there for her in her worst time.

She still had a hard time when it came to realising that someone genuinely cared about her (someone else than Ronin at least) and it broke her heart to see you at the verge of tears.

You felt Angel's arms wrap around you, her face snuggled against the crook of your neck, her whole face was hot against your skin, so was her whole body.

Angel: I'm so sorry, mi corazon. I also wish that I wouldn't be so used to putting so much on my plate.

User: It's not your fault Angel. It's hard to get rid of something like this.

You took a long as deep breath, taking in the pleasant scent that always came off of your wonderful girlfriend. You calmed up and broke the embrace. Even if hugging with her felt like heaven, Angel had to lay down and rest.

User: I already went out and bought some medicine for you while you were asleep. But before we can cool your fever down, you have to eat.

You got up from the bed. Angel wanted to protest and reach out for your hand to stop you from leaving her. But you still went to the kitchen to prepare some food for her (even when snuggling up with your angel was one of your favourite things).

You returned to the bedroom, a tray in your hands. On the tray there was, a cup of tea, some fever cooling medicine, and a chicken soup that you had ordered some time ago.

User: I brought you some food. I'll help you sit up.

You put the tray on the night stand and moved to Angel's side. You helped her sit and placed some pillows behind her back to keep her seated. You sat on the edge of the bed and took a hold of the soup bowl and a spoon.

Angel: Will you feed me now?

She asked with a giggle. Even when sick, Angel was the most adorable woman you ever knew.

User: You can't really expect me to do everything on your own in this state.

You replied and moved the soup filled spoon up to her mouth.

Angel: Maybe getting sick is not that bad, if I can get this special treatment.

You just rolled her eyes.

User: You don't have to be sick for me to care for you Angel.

You knew that Angel had a hard time understanding that she too deserves love and gentleness. You wanted to be the one to help her and be there for her. You wanted to show this oh so, sweet, sweet woman, just how much love she deserves. She was your angel, your girlfriend. Sometimes you wished that you could be the one to end her manager, but you knew that Angel would never agree to it and her murdering him on her own was the only option for her to be freed.

After eating the soup Angel took the medicine you gave to her. You laid her down on the bed again, tucking her in so she'd be comfortable.

Angel: Can you stay with me, Mi Vida?

The pleading look in her eyes, combined with her sickness, made your heart throb. You gave in very reluctantly, you were worried that Angel's condition could become worse than it already is. But you loved this woman way too much.

Now you two were snuggled up, Angel was keeping her head buried into your shirt, and you gently rubbed her back.

Angel: Um... User... What would you say for a short trip after I get better? Just the two of us. It can be wherever you want, but I want to spend time with you...

She looked up, her glassy eyes from the fever were scanning your face. You were smiling softly, already imagining the time the two of you could spend together. You placed a small kiss on her forehead.

User: Of course Angel, anything for you. But you have to get better soon, or we'll have to wait a while.

You said the last sentence jokingly.

User: How about a quick nap? You should rest, and I'm tired after writing for a long time.

Angel: Writing? Please tell me the plot. It'll help me sleep, listening to your voice I mean.

She didn't have to ask twice. You were telling her about the book you wanted to write about Misaki, she was your second favourite person in the server so they deserved their own book.

You felt how Angel's body relaxed, her breath getting steadier. You pressed her closer to yourself, whispering a quick goodnight into her ear and falling asleep too.

_____________________________________________

So this one is short, short. But I felt like making it longer would destroy it and it sits in my draft for a while anyway :d (Ronin stop stealing the spotlight!!!)

I hope you enjoyed it and that Angel is herself in here :3

Bye bye <3

[missys-mansion-of-mistakes]

August 16th, 2024. Friday.

✨ Feeling a lot less sick today. Yay! My fever broke overnight, but my cough is a lot worse. Still, that's a lot easier to be productive with.

Managed to get done today:

Tried to get dad to fix my car, but he forgot the part we needed. RIP. That's going to have to wait until next Tuesday

Organized all the grants that I can apply for by date due

Drafted 1 grant application

Unpacked my bags from the Philly trip

Cancelled all my extra subscriptions that were sucking up money

Updated YNAB

Made a gameplan for finishing my book, Rot, by end of August

🌟 Gotta keep moving forward. It's the only way to progress.

[Photos: book haul from Philadelphia, todolist]

[loveindomitable]

Update: still sick. Broke a fever tho so I’m hoping that’s a good sign for getting better so we’ll see. Slept a majority of today, so you know I’ve not been feeling well. I’ll see if I’m up to getting on any of my blogs tmrw, but I’ve been resting as much as possible to fight this.🤞

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Update 04 Jan 2025

Apologies for being kinda quiet lately. The new year is off too a terrible start.

SO lost his job because we had covid. Thought it was the flu, but it wasn't. Can't dispute it because he was officially fired for not calling out one day; we were both deathly sick and overslept, our son was with his grandmother because we didn't want him to catch this, by the time he woke up he had three missed calls and a text telling him to turn in his keys to the store. He was already told he "wasn't allowed to take any sick leave" because they're understaffed, but neither of us were capable of getting out of bed to do more than get to the bathroom for almost a week. On Christmas Eve he actually passed out at work for five minutes with a 102.5F fever and still had to finish his shift.

It was two days after Christmas that he was fired.

Yesterday, the main water line under our house decided to burst. We were lucky to realize that the tank of our water heater drained and shut it off at the breaker before it could burn itself out. That was three hundred dollars. We were lucky it wasn't more; the tech with the plumbing company who came out to fix it gave us a tremendous discount because he's good people. It should have been closer to six hundred.

Property taxes are also due on the fifteenth, so that's lovely. We had money saved up, but it's going to drain fast between taxes and bills this month. Several applications filled out, so far one interview on the 11th.

I am stressed beyond measure and spending the vast majority of my time consumed with housework I got behind on while sick (I'm still sick but I can at least move again); and rewatching the LotR films/Rings of Power/rereading the books during any free time I have to keep myself from spiraling too far into depression.

I'm still sore and exhausted from being sick. I lost my voice for several days and can still barely talk out loud, much less scream into the void like I'd like to. I can't sleep lately because (a) lying down makes me cough and (b) brain refuses to shut off. I broke down sobbing three times yesterday while SO was outside helping fix the water line because I thought we were going to have to drop over six hundred dollars we didn't really have to spare.

Everything feels completely hopeless and at this point I'm only able to function because staying busy is keeping my mind off of the horrors. The past couple weeks have been a nightmare and I just want it to be over.

Ah, and the 29th will be the sixteenth anniversary of the day my mom died, and I wish she was here more than ever. Just to talk to. To have someone to cry to/with. I'm so sick of toughing things out.

That's all, I guess. I hope everyone else is having a better start to 2025. I'm already fucking done with this year.

[toshootforthestars]

From the report by Beth Mole, posted 29 Feb 2024:

In a lengthy background document, the agency laid out its rationale for consolidating COVID-19 guidance into general guidance for respiratory viruses—including influenza, RSV, adenoviruses, rhinoviruses, enteroviruses, and others, though specifically not measles. The agency also noted the guidance does not apply to health care settings and outbreak scenarios. "COVID-19 remains an important public health threat, but it is no longer the emergency that it once was, and its health impacts increasingly resemble those of other respiratory viral illnesses, including influenza and RSV," the agency wrote. The most notable change in the new guidance is the previously reported decision to no longer recommend a minimum five-day isolation period for those infected with the pandemic coronavirus, SARS-CoV-2. Instead, the new isolation guidance is based on symptoms, which matches long-standing isolation guidance for other respiratory viruses, including influenza. "The updated Respiratory Virus Guidance recommends people with respiratory virus symptoms that are not better explained by another cause stay home and away from others until at least 24 hours after both resolution of fever AND overall symptom are getting better," the document states. "This recommendation addresses the period of greatest infectiousness and highest viral load for most people, which is typically in the first few days of illness and when symptoms, including fever, are worst." The CDC acknowledged that the eased isolation guidance will create "residual risk of SARS-CoV-2 transmission," and that most people are no longer infectious only after 8 to 10 days. As such, the agency urged people to follow additional interventions—including masking, testing, distancing, hygiene, and improving air quality—for five additional days after their isolation period. "Today’s announcement reflects the progress we have made in protecting against severe illness from COVID-19," CDC Director Dr. Mandy Cohen said in a statement. "However, we still must use the commonsense solutions we know work to protect ourselves and others from serious illness from respiratory viruses—this includes vaccination, treatment, and staying home when we get sick." Overall, the agency argued that a shorter isolation period would be inconsequential. Other countries and states that have similarly abandoned fixed isolation times did not see jumps in COVID-19 emergency department visits or hospitalizations, the CDC pointed out. And most people who have COVID-19 don't know they have it anyway, making COVID-19-specific guidance moot, the agency argued. In a recent CDC survey, less than half of people said they would test for SARS-CoV-2 if they had a cough or cold symptoms, and less than 10 percent said they would go to a pharmacy or health care provider to get tested. Meanwhile, "The overall sensitivity of COVID-19 antigen tests is relatively low and even lower in individuals with only mild symptoms," the agency said. The CDC also raised practical concerns for isolation, including a lack of paid sick leave for many, social isolation, and "societal costs." The points are likely to land poorly with critics. “The CDC is again prioritizing short-term business interests over our health by caving to employer pressure on COVID guidelines. This is a pattern we’ve seen throughout the pandemic,” Lara Jirmanus, Clinical Instructor of Medicine at Harvard Medical School, said in a press release last month after the news first broke of the CDC's planned isolation update. Jirmanus is a member of the People's CDC, a group that advocates for more aggressive COVID-19 policies, which put out the press release. Another member of the group, Sam Friedman, a professor of population health at NYU Grossman School of Medicine, also blasted the CDC's stance last month. The guidance will "make workplaces and public spaces even more unsafe for everyone, particularly for people who are high-risk for COVID complications," he said.

But, the CDC argues that the threat of COVID-19 is fading. Hospitalizations, deaths, prevalence of long COVID, and COVID-19 complications in children (MIS-C) are all down. COVID-19 vaccines are safe and effective at preventing severe disease, death, and to some extent, long COVID—we just need more people to get them. Over 95% of adults hospitalized with COVID-19 in the 2023–2024 respiratory season had no record of receiving the seasonal booster dose, the agency noted. Only 22% of adults got the latest shot, including only 42% of people ages 65 and older. In contrast, 48% of adults got the latest flu shot, including 73% of people ages 65 and older. But even with the crummy vaccination rates for COVID-19, a mix of past infection and shots have led to a substantial protection in the overall population. The CDC even went as far as arguing that COVID-19 deaths have fallen to a level that is similar to what's seen with flu. "Reported deaths involving COVID-19 are several-fold greater than those reported to involve influenza and RSV. However, influenza and likely RSV are often underreported as causes of death," the CDC said. In the 2022–2023 respiratory virus season, there were nearly 90,000 reported COVID-19 deaths. For flu, there were 9,559 reported deaths, but the CDC estimates the true number to be between 18,000 and 97,000. In the current season, there have been 32,949 reported COVID-19 deaths to date and 5,854 reported flu deaths, but the agency estimates the real flu deaths are between 17,000 and 50,000. "Total COVID-19 deaths, accounting for underreporting, are likely to be higher than, but of the same order of magnitude as, total influenza deaths," the agency concluded.

(say no to raw dough: CDC)

[girlinlotsoffandoms]

she's her daddy's girl, her momma's world - chapter 35

make it go away (part two)

Maya’s still sick, her parents are still worried, and their fire fam is the best.

Read on AO3 or below

Twenty-four hours later and things with Maya had gone from bad to worse, just like Dr. Michaels had warned. Maya was still struggling with her breathing and had been bumped from 3Ls of oxygen up to 5Ls. After a few failed feeding attempts, where Maya’s oxygen stats dropped way too low, the baby had a feeding tube placed and Stella made the switch to pumping. It wasn’t a pleasurable experience for either of them.

Maya’s fever broke a few hours after they arrived at the hospital, which was the only thing going in their favor thus far.

Maya was uncomfortable and fussy with the IV in her arm and the oxygen cannula and feeding tube taped on her face. Despite only being two months old, Maya knew she was in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar things, and she did not like it. The only way she’d sleep or calm was in her parents’ arms, meaning Kelly and Stella were as exhausted as Maya was.

They took turns; one would hold Maya so she could rest and sleep while the other would be free to walk around and stretch their legs, grab some coffee or something to eat, and go to the bathroom. Neither Kelly nor Stella ventured too far away from Maya’s room though, not after the infant had knocked one of her monitors off, causing an alarm to sound. Everything was fine but the incident terrified Kelly and Stella enough to not want to be too far away from Maya.

Natalie, April, and the rest of their friends from Med popped up to the PICU to check on the Severides. Maya perked up at the newcomers and the attention they gave her and Kelly and Stella appreciated the coffee and snacks they brought with them. April even stayed after her shift ended and sat with Maya so Kelly and Stella could go down to the hospital cafeteria and get some semi-decent food. They weren’t gone for long, despite April telling them to take their time.

Sleep was a foreign concept that night. Kelly and Stella took turns, alternating between sitting with Maya in the chair by her bed and sleeping on the pull-out couch, but between their worry, the uncomfortable furniture, nurses coming in and out at all hours, and Stella’s pumping schedule no one got any decent rest.

When Maya’s oxygen got bumped up, any hope of sleep was dashed.

Casey, Brett, Boden, and a few others from 51 checked in every few hours. Kelly and Stella gave them updates and even sent a picture or two. If the texts weren’t enough indication as to how badly Kelly and Stella were struggling with Maya being sick, their faces (and the bags under their eyes) when they answered one of Brett’s FaceTime calls left no doubt.

As Maya’s godmother and Stella’s best friend, Brett hated seeing the people she loved sick and struggling. She wanted to help them in any way she could, so she hatched a plan. Casey, Violet, and the rest of second shift were roped in throughout the day but no one complained; they all cared for and were worried about Maya and her parents. Everyone had their assignments and by the time their shift was over, they all went their separate ways with a plan to meet at the hospital in an hour.

                                                     … … …

Maya had just received her morning feeding and made her way back into Kelly’s arms when there was a knock on the door. Kelly and Stella looked up and there in the doorway were their friends and teammates, armed with bags and what looked like the entire gift shop.

“Hey,” Stella said, rising from her chair. “What are you guys doing here?”

“We just wanted to stop by, make sure you all were doing OK,” Boden announced as the members of 51 started to cram into the hospital room. While they had all showered and changed clothes since their shift ended, they all wanted to keep a safe distance from the sick baby.

“I didn’t know what all you guys had here, so Matt and I stopped by the loft and grabbed some stuff,” Brett shared, placing the duffle bag she was carrying next to the pull-out couch. “And Cruz and Chloe grabbed some decent breakfast and coffee for you.”

Sure enough, Cruz and Chloe made it into the room, to-go containers and coffee cups in their hands. They sat everything down on the roll-away table in the corner.

Tears welled in Stella’s eyes. “Thank you guys so much.”

“Of course,” Brett cooed, wrapping an arm around Stella’s shoulders and giving her a comforting hug.

A small raspy cough directed everyone’s attention to the infant in Kelly’s arms. He rubbed her back and adjusted his hold on her as she continued to cough. When Maya was finished coughing, she let out a tired, wheezing sigh and blinked her weary eyes.

It was an equally sad and adorable sight.

“How’s she doing?” Casey asked, moving to Kelly’s side.

“She’s hanging in there,” Kelly said, smiling slightly as Maya snuggled closer at the sound of his voice. “She’s been fever free for almost 24 hours and the extra oxygen is helping.”

“They scheduled her for another chest x-ray later this morning,” Stella chimed in. “If her lungs are looking better, Dr. Michaels said they might try and lower her oxygen.”

“Any idea how long they’re going to keep Maya here?” Chloe asked, joining Brett at Stella’s side.

“At least a few more days,” Stella answered. “They need to get her completely off oxygen and make sure she can maintain her levels without help.”

A few more questions were asked, but everyone’s attention was soon diverted to Capp and Gallo who, rather unceremoniously, dropped their armfuls of gifts in the corner of the room. There were stuffed animals, balloons, a blanket, candy, and flowers…..way more than anyone needed, let alone a two-month-old.

Kelly raised an eyebrow. “Did you two leave anything in the gift shop for anyone else?”

“They would’ve bought more,” Tony started, an amused but annoyed smirk on his face. “But the manager kicked them out for causing a disturbance.”

“It was his fault!” Capp and Gallo said at the same time, pointing at each other.

That started an argument between the two. Although it brought some levity to the situation, Stella stepped in before things got too heated. “Guys, we appreciate the thought and the love but Maya’s two months old. I don’t think she needs any of this stuff.”

Capp and Gallo looked around at everything they’d bought. Sheepish smiles stretched across their faces, almost as if they just realized how overboard they’d gone.

Gallo shrugged. “Eh. Keep what you guys need and what you think Maya would like and donate the rest to the other kids and families on the floor.”

Stella and a few others huffed out a laugh before returning to their conversations. 

Everyone stayed around for a little while longer until it was clear Maya was losing steam. They all said their goodbyes, leaving the baby and her parents to get some much-needed rest. 

Brett and Casey were the last to leave, promising to swing by again later in the day. It was clear that Kelly and Stella were tired and frazzled and Brett and Casey hoped they’d be able to help. Their friends needed a break outside the four walls of Maya’s hospital room.

They weren’t expecting Kelly and Stella to spend the night at home, but they hoped they could at least get the anxious parents out of the hospital long enough to shower and eat actual food.

It wasn’t an easy task by any means, but Brett and Casey managed to convince them. They had arrived back at the hospital around dinnertime—Maya had just gotten a feeding, her stats were holding steady, and she was ready to sleep. It was a hard sell at first but after Maya showed she would happily sleep in Brett’s and Casey’s arms, Kelly and Stella finally agreed.

Despite the constant text updates and pictures sent, Stella and Kelly’s break only lasted a few hours. Brett and Casey hoped they would’ve been gone longer, but they had to admit the anxious parents looked a bit more refreshed.

                                             … … …

It was nearly 36 hours later when things changed again, this time for the better. An updated chest x-ray showed that Maya’s lungs had cleared, so the doctors started weaning her off the higher oxygen. They started slow, moving Maya down from 5Ls to 4Ls and monitoring her closely for several hours. When Maya passed all the tests with flying colors, she was moved down from 4Ls to three.

A few hours later and Maya was back down to 2Ls of oxygen and doing great.

Dr. Michaels kept Maya on 2Ls for a while, wanting to test and see if they could remove the feeding tube. They gave Maya a bottle first and Kelly, Stella, and Dr. Michaels had their attention glued to Maya’s oxygen stats—they held steady and strong. It was a big step in the right direction, but Dr. Michaels wasn’t ready to remove the tube yet. He wanted to see how Maya did with a few more feeds throughout the day.

Maya continued to excel with her feedings, both with the bottle and without, and by dinnertime that day, her feeding tube had been successfully removed.

As Maya got better, the spark returned to her eyes and she began smiling and giggling again. The stress and tension melted from Kelly and Stella and as Maya recovered, they allowed themselves to breathe again.

                                                … …  …

Four days after Maya was admitted to the hospital, she was being discharged. The doctors had no reservations about letting Maya go home. She was over the worst of the RSV and was back to her normal, happy self, but Kelly and Stella knew they’d be watching the two-month-old like a hawk for days and weeks to come.

The past four days had been the longest of Kelly’s and Stella’s lives and they were beyond ready to bring their little girl back home.

As they walked out of the hospital doors, Maya securely buckled into her car seat, memories from two months earlier flooded Kelly’s and Stella’s minds. Leaving the hospital with their newborn daughter and bringing her home for the first time had been one of the best moments of their lives and although this hospital homecoming was different from the last, it was no less special.

Maya was happy and healthy and their family was together. There was nothing more special than that.