#tired of the fevers it's so draining

[abutterflyobsession]

the least exertion brings on a fever please send me to the seaside for my health

[feverdreamsandlucidnightmares]

Why are showers so many steps I want to be unconscious

[zevrans-remade]

.

[algolstare]

Now at 1030/7374 as of 12/8!! ❣️💞💟

As far as other updates go, I'm feeling better after getting sick along with our family!! Which I am very thankful for. But nothing much else to report, which is probably also a good thing!

with an update to the gfm comes a new tumblr poast: Birthday Edition 🎂🎉

our name is Teddy, my cat & i are in a very unsafe abusive living shituation, coming up on 22 years of endurance this month!!!

things have continued to escalate the closer we get to escape, bit by bit for my progress and leaps and bounds for the fear-and-harm escalation end of this.

here is our gfm to help me and my cat get away from here:

we've made an update to it, which you can read if you want!!

i am now hoping to get to safety by the end of January 2023, which does wonders for the "feeling like i am held in suspense with no clear time to look forward to" thing, if fate is really really nice to me

currently we're at 1000/7374 🎉

that is 13% of the way there! which is very surreal to me!! i still just cant find the words to express how grateful i am for the kindness of strangers and friends who decide to help me be able to have a future where i am safe, i never thought survival would feel so within reach

besides the gfm, you can commission me for artworks, or get presents for my cat to help me make this less hellish for her too with more variety of fun for Baby. she's still so sweet and gentle and loving despite living with the horrors with me, she brings me such comfort all the time.. it is not fair. i love my cat more than i love myself, and still i wish i could have stopped my family from getting more pets. nothing deserves to suffer like this here, especially not such innocent animals.

if you can't or don't want to give the present of moneys-towards-escape, that's okay too, i ask that you please share this instead!! reblogs are much appreciated, as are kind words, candles and well-wishes, and shares of the gfm in other places if you feel so inclined. every single little thing means the world to me 💝

thank you for taking the time to read this, and for even considering helping us out!! i hope that you're warm and safe and doing well, and if not, i hope that things ease up for you!!🧸🎂

[silverskyeline]

'always' ✭ logan promptober day 2 - beard

oneshot - logan is struggling to look after himself, you trim his beard while he sleeps. (800 words) pairing - old man logan (logan 2017) x gn!reader tags - established relationship, extremely angsty, vague death mentions, logan is really struggling, reader trims his beard and comforts him, you cuddle in bed together, bittersweet ending.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

logan's bad days are bad, and getting worse as time moves on cruelly without his consent. he mumbles incoherently, a fever prickling at his skin and causing a soft flush on his face. you're sat on the edge of his bed, watching over him as he stirs.

your eyes trace over his familiar features, you could draw him from memory over and over, easily. sometimes you do, scared that one day you'll forget those features you've come to love. the strong bridge of his nose, the deep scars that now litter his face, his sunken tired eyes, and his beard. . . when was the last time he'd trimmed it?

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

reaching for the scissors, you lean in, gently beginning to snip away at the overgrown hair. if he awoke, he'd snarl, push you away and insist you stop helping. but while asleep, you could offer him this service, keep the frightened, injured animal at bay through slumber.

logan never means to bite, or bark, or snarl at you, he would never do anything to hurt you. but in his drained state, the vulnerable part of him extends a defensive shell, a shell that you'd patiently wait to crumble.

patience- it's a trait you've mastered since knowing logan. it comes in particularly handy these days, but you wish he'd have patience with himself too.

snip. snip. snip. the sounds of the scissors echo in the small space as you carefully trim his beard, taking your time. it's all you can do to help him. it's the most painful thing you've ever experienced, watching the one who was supposed to outlive you begin to slip through your fingers without an answer as to why.

the small, fine greying hairs fall around his shoulders as you continue, smiling softly as you're reminded of the way he used to style his beard. you swear, no one could pull off mutton chops like logan howlett did. but even now, with a full beard, grey hair and wrinkles, you find him to be the most handsome man you've ever lain your eyes upon - that you'll ever lay your eyes upon.

pulling back, you slowly gather the hair and discard it in the bedside trashcan before turning back to him. extending a hand, you cup his cheek and he flinches weakly at the contact. you rub your soft thumb across his skin, skin that's seen so much violence. you want to take it all away, to take away his pain, everything he's ever bore witness to that keeps him up at night, you wish you could calm the storm in his mind.

but, this is as much as you can do. the futility of the situation weighs on your shoulders daily, slamming you in the chest and winding you as soon as you open your eyes in the morning.

you can't fix him.

your hand slips from his cheek and you turn on the bed to stand. but before you rise, you feel his calloused hand wrap around your wrist. it's a soft touch, gentle and tender. your head pivots towards him once more, finding his eyes through hooded lids staring up at you.

his chest rises and falls, shallow breaths, he's exhausted. but he's looking at you with such love, such care, like there's a million words running through his mind that he'll never mutter out loud. and you know him to have such a busy mind. for a man of few words, he could fill countless libraries with the paragraphs that plague his mind.

"stay," he mumbles, his voice a low rumble in his chest as it cuts through the silence in the room, ". . . please."

you want to say you'll never go anywhere else, you'll never leave, you're here till the end. but the words get caught in your throat. you know he already knows, because there's been countless occasions where he's begged you to leave, to stop loving him, to live your life.

but how could you live your life without him?

smiling, you whisper, "always."

slowly and carefully, you curl up against him, resting your head on his chest to listen to his steady heartbeat - a comforting rhythmic melody that serves to remind you that your lover is still fighting. and despite him being so very tired, he'd fight for you, he'd fight to have even one more second with you.

in all of his long, often lonely, existence, logan has never found comfort quite like he has with you. his safe space, your arms providing him solace and peace, your soothing words nestle into the bubbling cracks in his mind that threaten to break him and instead bring him back to earth.

". . .i love you," logan mutters against your head, pressing a soft kiss there as his eyes flutter shut once more. he's never meant anything more in his life.

they say butterflies are long gone after the honeymoon period, but with logan, you know they'll stay. even after he is long gone, the memory of him uttering those three special words will ignite a bloom in your belly.

"i love you too."

you can't fix him.

but you'll be there for him forever, always.

[wonijinjin]

in sickness and in health

author’s note: please take care of yourselves everyone! being sick is not fun. dedicating this to my dear @babyleostuff <3

synopsis: when you get food poisoning cheol is ready to sacrifice his night to take care of you.

word count: 1.0k | genre: fluff, comfort | pairing: cheol x gn! reader | warnings: mentions of throwing up, being sick, fever, exhaustion, bad mental health

it was around 12am when you realised something was wrong; you never really got sick, but you could feel it coming before it even happened; head pounding and shivers crawling up and down your spine, making you anxious. after a bit of panicking about why you felt this bad you calmed yourself down and went back to scrolling through social media on your phone, scared of waking and troubling the man next to you. seungcheol was already asleep by that time, being extremely tired from working since 3am, having been to several music show recordings and dance practices. you found him so peaceful as he slept and you were so glad to see him rest after many days of hard work. however as the minutes went by while looking at your phone you could sense an increasing nauseating feeling in your stomach, not being able to focus on the blogpost you were reading anymore, being too occupied with trying to make it stop and squirming under the blankets of your cozy king sized bed to make it more bearable. as if on cue to the peak of your struggles cheol stirred in his sleep next to your helpessly thrashing form, turning to you, his sleepy frame trying to process the cause of your distress. “what’s wrong, my love?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. “don’t worry, nothing. go back to sleep.” you tried to sound as convincing as you could. he didn’t buy it. “love, i know something is up. tell me, please?” he begged, more alert when he saw how your protests were interrupted by a weak sob. “i think i am gonna throw up cheol.” you mumbled with a terrified look on your face, trying to stay perfectly still so your upset stomach could get some relief. seungcheol first thought that you were trying to pull a prank on him since you never got sick, but when he looked at your features closer he realised how pale you looked, and how sweat was glistening on your skin. “you sure? like right now?” he sat up in no time as the question left his mouth, ready to take you to the bathroom to let out whatever was making you feel so miserable. you didn’t have time to answer him whatsoever as you bolted towards the mentioned room, getting to the toilet just in time for the agonising pain and suffering of the next few hours to begin. in your hurry you had a hopeless attempt to lock the door in order to shut cheol out; you hated if he saw you in any other state than your most perfect one, if he saw your imperfections, how you felt unwell sometimes or how you struggled with life from time to time. he always scolded you for thinking this way, but you couldn’t stop it; you wanted to be his strong partner, someone who he could rely on whenever he needed to. “i am coming in.” you heard him say and suddenly you felt a warm hand on your back and another one taking your hair out of your sweaty face, snapping you out of your feverish daze. “i am here, you are okay, love. breathe for me please. that’s it, good. let it all out. don’t worry i am here.” you could hear cheol’s voice through your eardums, blood pumping in your veins with much more speed than ever. seungcheol held you close to him as you spat in the bowl one last time, making sure you were really done before placing you on his lap, your knees no longer hitting the cold tiles of the bathroom, only feeling his warmth surrounding you. “my poor baby.” his voice was low and hurt while he kissed your forehead, frowning upon sensing how your skin burned under his touch. “you are burning up. you definitely have a fever my dear.“ he announced, but you could barely register his voice and words; you were utterly drained, barely able to keep your head up straight.

cheol of course took note of this, gently guiding you to lean into him even more while he got comfortable on the floor, cradling you into his chest. “i know you don’t feel good my love. do you know how did this happen?” he wondered with concern laced in his words. you slightly shifted in his arms, looking up at him. “i think i might have food poisoning, cheol.” he cooed at you, kissing the top of your head, rocking you from side to side as you whimpered in pain. “it’s okay love. it will be over soon i promise.” he chanted softly in an attempt to calm you down as exhaustion took over you, the high temperature making you shake with chills no matter how close seungcheol kept your body to his. “love, you with me?” he questioned after a few minutes of silence, but didn’t get a reply; you fell asleep fast, totally knocked out from the sudden wave of late night sickness. he was relieved to see that your immune system was trying to get that much needed sleep to heal, although he was concerned about the effects of not taking medication before your slumber; he didn’t have the heart to wake you so he let you rest anyways.

he never stopped holding you through the night, not even when he moved you to the bedroom and got a cold towel to put on your head, moving a trash can beside your bed just in case, or when he stayed up all night to watch over your distressed form, wishing that you would get better by the morning, kissing your cheek from time to time to let you know that he was there, that he was gonna take care of you no matter what.

[cheol13wh0r3]

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 𝓢𝓲𝓬𝓴 𝓓𝓪𝔂𝓼 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓙𝓸𝓼𝓱𝓾𝓪 !

w/c; 0.4k

Warnings: Established Relationship, Boyfriend Joshua, Fever

┊͙✧˖*°࿐ When you woke up this morning with a headache, your body felt sore as if you’d run a marathon. You barely registered that Joshua wasn’t on his side of the bed, you focused instead on the unusual heat that surrounded you. It felt like the room was wrapped with multiple layers of thick and heavy blankets.

Without thinking much of it, you sat up, and moved your legs over the edge of the bed, trying to stand. But as soon as your feet met the ground, your legs gave away, sending you stumbling and groaning in pain.

You paused and blinked a few times, trying to collect yourself after what just happened. It wasn't until then that you realized something was really off. You felt as if the energy from your body had been drained of its energy overnight.

“Love? Hey, what are you doing on the floor?”

Joshua’s voice was soft but concerned, in seconds he quickly carried you back onto the bed as he held you close to him. As he put you down his eyes scanned your body, assessing for anything that could cause a bruise later.

“Are you okay, love? Does it hurt anywhere?” You tried to smile, but it came out weak. “Yeah, but the pains not too bad,” you mumbled, closing your eyes softly as another wave of dizziness hit you.

Joshua held you tighter, he sighed. His fingers brushed off some of the hair on your clammy forehead. “You're burning up,” His worry was clear in his voice. ��You should've stayed in bed. Here, let me help.”

Before you could protest Joshua put you down on the bed and made sure that you felt comfortable, arranging the blankets carefully–the warmth of the blankets felt soothing as opposed to a few minutes ago.

“Stay put now, okay?” He smiled softly at you, “I’ll be back, I’ll just get some food for you and medicine okay?” He came closer and kissed your forehead before tucking you in.

You nodded, too tired to argue. As he left the room, you sank back into the bed. Savoring the way that Joshua tucked you back in bed–as if trying to protect you from the world outside.

When Joshua came back, he bought a tray with food, medicine, water and a cold towel with him. He helped you sit up, “Baby, c’mon let's get some food in your stomach first before we drink some medicine, okay?” He smiled as you complied with him as he spoon fed you.

Although your body still ached, seeing him be attentive to you, eased your discomfort a little.

Maybe, sick days with Joshua weren't so bad afterall.

[sonicthehedgehoglover2]

You flip through your notebook, carefully, eying the words you've written throughout your travels. The words are there, written delicately on each page, but you don't really pay attention to them. Instead, most of your attentions focused on the small body sleeping in the bed next to you.

Siffrin lies on his back in bed, the covers pulled up to their chest. His pale face - paler with everything he's been through - is bright with fever. Every now and then, he shifts in his sleep, whimpering and whining against things only he can see.

You sigh, and hopelessly flip another page in your journal. Ironically, it mentions the first time you met Siffrin, the mysterious and suspicious traveler.

Siffrin had collapsed in the midst of the celebration in Dormont for defeating the King. His fever, which seemed to have dissipated earlier, had returned with a ferocity.

(Isabeau held them close to his chest, his usual bashfulness with Siffrin's closeness overridden by his concern. "Do you think they used Craft again?" He asked, his eyes watching as you pressed a hand to Siffrin's forehead.

You frown. "It's possible," you state, pressing your hand to Siffrin's burning cheek. Your heart definitely did not break a little when he leans into your touch. "It wouldn't surprise me. Siffrin's not know to follow directions."

Isabeau smiles weakly, and he draws Siffrin ever closer to himself. Then, he freezes and looks down at Siffrin again. "What?" You ask, observing as Isabeau stares down at Siffrin.

Isabeau doesn't answer, but the color draining from his face unnerves you. "Isabeau," you press. "What's wrong?"

Isabeau shifts Siffrin in his grip, and he holds out a hand to you.

His digits are covered in blood.

Isabeau gulps. "Sif's bleeding.")

You annoyingly read the same page three times before you pull your glasses off and rub your tired eyes. You're pushing your glasses up on the bridge of your nose, when you hear muttering coming from Siffrin.

When you look, Siffrin's tossing and turning in his bed. You watch the rag that was plastered to Siffrin's forehead fall on the bed beside him. You sigh again, this time not of out of annoyance. Gingerly, you rise to your feet, head to Siffrin's bedside, and re-wet the rag.

"Calm down now, young one," you find yourself whispering soothingly. You place the back of your hand against Siffrin's forehead, brushing aside his sweaty darkless strands, and tsk at the warmth that's still there. You gently brush the rag against Siffrin's face, ignoring he tries to move away. You're careful to avoid the scarred skin around what's left of Siffrin's left eye.

As you work, you find your eyes drawn to the bandages wrapped around their chest. Without thinking, you find yourself drawing a jagged line over Siffrin's small bandaged chest.

(Siffrin - tiny Siffrin, who was the second smallest in the group - stood above you all, staring down at you with shade you've never seen. Your heart beats loudly in your ears as you watch Siffrin wail and throw the Head Housemaiden to the side.

A quick burst of fear twists your thoughts and, before you could stop yourself, you bring up your hand and summon a Paper Craft and -

You blink, and Siffrin's crying out in absolute pain. He staggers back, grabbing at his chest as his blood - a horrible new shade - bleeds through his cloak. You stare at your outstretched hand in shock.)

You clench your fist so hard, your fingernails dig into your palms.

There's a sudden sharp sob that drags you from your thoughts, and you immediately crane your head to look at the source. Siffrin's face is screwed up tight and wrought with fear, and small tears fall from behind his closed eye.

"Oh, Siffrin," you mutter in concern, and you gently wipe the tears from Siffrin's face.

Siffrin mutters.

"What?" You lean in closer.

"I'm sorry," Siffrin babbles, incoherently. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Your heart twists tightly in your chest, and you hush him as best as you can.

"No, Siffrin," your eyes begin to water. "I'm sorry."

------

You think Odile ever regarded slashing Siffrin in Act 5?

[bluejeanstrash]

it’s 1:23 am when seungcheol realises you’re no longer in bed with him. even though he’s got his back turned to you, there’s this gnawing feeling of something missing that stirs him awake.

he turns to see the empty space; sheets still warm with traces of you. he then turns back around to check what the time is, feeling his eyelids go heavy as he dozes off, phone still in hand.

it’s 2:02 am when seungcheol wakes up again, the phone falling from his grip, hitting the carpeted floor. he jolts awake, sitting up to see you’re still gone.

‘babe?’ he calls out to a silent apartment. he tries your name next to no answer. he’s worried now — a growing anxiety fills his chest as he rushes out of bed.

‘baby?’ he checks the bathrooms first. then the other bedroom. the kitchen next. and as he’s walking across the living room, he sees your silhouette on the couch.

he rushes over, turning on the lamp behind you as a soft orange hue illuminates the room and your face along with it. you look awful. the colour’s drained from your face and your hair’s all matted — sticking to your forehead, and somehow you’re sweating and shivering all at once.

‘what the..’ he brings the back of his hand to your forehead, gently pressing it to your skin. he checks your cheeks next, and finally your throbbing neck ‘you’re burning!’

‘why didn’t you wake me up!’

‘you have schedule’ you mumble as he frowns, getting upset.

‘that doesn’t matter. don’t do that again’ he scolds, immediately softening his tone when you let out a weak cough.

‘have you taken your temperature yet?’ you nod, turning your head to the digital thermometer sitting on the table.

‘okay. let me take it again’ he gives the thermometer a shake before wiping it down.

you open your mouth as he places it under your tongue seeing the temperature rise till it finally stops at a worrying 101°F.

‘hmmn..’ he chews on his lower lip ‘we’ll keep an eye on it’

what felt warm a second ago is now cold as you shiver, feeling a sudden chill. seungcheol pulls the blanket up, tucking in your sweaty body tighter.

‘what about medicine? did you take anything?’ his one hand now tenderly stroking your hair as you shake your head no.

you had tried but looking for medicine was a pretty heavy ask when the room was spinning with every step so you decided to just lie down instead.

‘okay!’ he gets up with a determined sigh, any sleepiness long gone. now seungcheol’s in complete caretaker mode with his only objective to make you feel better.

through the haze of the fever, you can hear him pottering around, moving from room to room — there are sounds of water being poured and drawers being opened, rummaged through, and shut.

he returns around 5 minutes later, hands full.

‘you need to take medicine, okay? wait, baby, have you eaten?’ you shake your head again.

‘no, you need to eat something first’

‘i’m too tired’

he insists on something small, disappearing into the kitchen and coming back with a pack of biscuits — not the good kind, but the boring digestive ones that will fill you up a little more.

‘come on, let’s sit up’ you groan, feeling the room spin as he helps you up.

‘two biscuits. that’s it. open’

you open your mouth letting him feed it to you.

‘bite’ and you do — crumbs falling on your blanket which he promptly brushes away. ‘one more bite’ and you follow the instructions till two are done and dusted away.

‘one more’

‘i already had two!’

‘and now we’ll have one more’

you groan a no.

‘come on. just one more. for me’ you let him have his way, too tired to fight, falling back down immediately as you take the last bite.

‘now medicine’ he pulls you back up, handing over a pill and glass of water as you take it through half-shut eyes, resting against his body for a second.

‘good job. now we can lie down again'

after you're tucked back in, he sits on the floor next to you, wringing and then bringing a cool damp cloth to your burning forehead.

‘that feels nice’ it does. like a cool breeze on a hot day.

‘yeah? good’ he smiles, one hand gently stroking your hair back.

‘go to sleep’ you mumble ‘i’ll be fine. thank you’

‘i’ll sleep once you do’ he says firmly, hand still on your hair.

you're still dizzy but the steady strokes of seungcheol’s hand on you is a constant comfort. it takes around 10 minutes till you’re asleep.

he finally gets up, kissing his fingers and then planting that kiss to your forehead.

he heads into the bedroom, grabbing his stuff to come lay down on the floor beside you.

it’s 3:07 am when seungcheol falls back asleep, making sure he’s right where he belongs — next to you.

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 15]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

Words: 8.1k

ao3 link

banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen

The first thing you process as you begin to come to is a slow, rhythmic beeping. It is dull and low and it almost carries you right back into the nothingness. You slip in and out of the fog a few times before your mind is able to catch a hold of conciseness. Even then, it feels like everything crawls by until your thoughts go from incoherent images to actual awareness. 

You feel awful - like you've been hit by a massive truck, who then backed up over you only to run you over again. Everything aches, but the worst of it is centered on the left side of your head, going down to your neck. It throbs and feels so stiff. You don't think you could move your head if you tried.

The second worst thing is how dry your mouth feels. It is as if someone stuffed you full of cotton to remove all the moisture from your body, then to make sure you were drained, dried you out under a heat lamp. It hurts to even try to swallow the little saliva your mouth is producing.

You need something to drink. 

Like some sort of miracle, something cold and wet is pressed to your lips. It startles you, but you react quickly. You force your lips to part and an ice chip is slipped between them. You suck on it desperately and it only takes a second for it to melt away, but almost instantly you are given another one. This happens two more times before your mouth finally doesn't feel like a desert. 

Your eyes are hard to open. They feel crusted shut and you don't know if you have the energy to try and pull them apart, but you try. It takes multiple attempts, but finally they open. Everything is far too bright and blurry.

Matt comes into focus above you, face wracked with concern. His hair is a mess and it looks like he hasn't slept in ages. His eyes, while sightless, are puffy and bloodshot and you wonder if he has been crying. Your brow knits in confusion and you try to reach for his cheeks to offer some sort of comfort. Your hand doesn't make it far off whatever you are laying on, but it doesn't matter because as soon as it is in the air, he's clasping his around yours. 

He breathes out your name just as you croak out his. 

Above you, he lets out the smallest breath of a laugh, like he is relieved, before moving even closer to you. He presses his forehead to yours and you let your eyes fall shut again - you're too tired to keep them open and you don't think he will mind the lack of eye contact.

“You scared me,” he whispers against you, before you feel his lips brush your cheek. 

You manage a confused noise, not understanding what is going on. Your throat burns as you attempt to talk, “what happened…?”

“You've got a pretty bad ear infection,” he tells you and you think that sounds about right. Everything hurts so much and you are far too warm. The cotton feeling in your mouth is also in your left ear, making it feel like half your head is dunked under water.

He is so close, his breath warms your still cool lips as he talks, “It hit you hard and fast - your fever got up to 104 and you wouldn't wake up. We had to bring you to the hospital, but you'll be okay now. Your fever has gone down a lot.”

The words float through you and it takes you a few seconds to grasp onto them and make them make sense. “We…?” You question because you don't know who ‘we’ could be. 

“Foggy and I,” he confirms. The hand not clutching your own cups your jaw and feels so cool and nice that you can't help but lean into it. He gives you another kiss, this time to the forehead, with his scruff lightly scratching against you. It tickles. 

You realize a name is missing and your heart starts to race. Matt hasn't mentioned your daughter and you start to panic. 

Where is she? Where's your baby?

“Minnie?” You ask, but to your non-stuffy ear, it sounds more like a whine.

He quickly starts to shush you, his thumb gently rubbing over your cheek, “it's okay, she's okay. She's safe. Foggy took her to go get some breakfast. She's okay. She's okay.”

His words do calm you, but your heart still pounds in your chest. You know Matt trusts Foggy, so to an extent, you do as well, but you want your daughter. You want to hold her and make sure she is truly alright. She must be so scared. 

You get another kiss to the forehead and it pulls you from your worried yet sluggish thoughts. You decide you like the feeling of Matt's beard against your skin. It's not something you're used to, and even if it is a little scratchy, it feels nice. It makes you feel warm but not like your supposed fever is making you feel warm. It's a good warm that wraps around your heart. It helps to soothe you - Matt would never allow your little one to be in any danger. 

“Try to get some rest, sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere - I'll be right here when you wake up, again. I swear,” he whispers into your hairline and you find yourself nodding into his palm. 

Sleep sounds good - you're tired and achy. Your eyes are so heavy you couldn't possibly open them again. You are slumping back down into your pillow before you know it, thoughts slowly buzzing back into nothing. 

The darkness takes you easily and you drift off without realizing Matt is practically clinging to you.

----

When you wake again, things make a little more sense. The hazy heavy fog is no longer covering your brain and you are more aware of what is happening around you before you open your eyes.

You can hear people walking around and talking outside your little room and everything smells disgustingly sterile. You can feel where IVs have been placed into your arm and the different monitors attached to your chest. You also know Matt is still clutching your hand and that motivates you to actually look around. 

Your head is tilted to the right, stretching out the stiffness on the other side, and centered in your view is Matt. He's asleep, head tilted down with his chin nearly to his collarbone. He looks so peaceful with his chest slowly rising and falling and someone has draped a thin blanket around his shoulders, only adding to his gentleness. You can't see it, but you're sure his knees must be bumping against the bed with how close he is to you. 

Your heart flutters in your chest. Had he stayed there this entire time? Has he let go of your hand at all? 

You remember when you were in the hospital to give birth. You had been so lonely - no one had been there to hold your hand or keep watch over you. No one had visited you - though you had received flowers from your work friends. 

Is this what it will be like now? 

You want that desperately - to feel like you matter to someone, for someone to care about you and your well-being, to feel like you aren't always alone. 

You squeeze his hand, and even though you feel absolutely horrible - hot and sweaty and like your head wants to fall off - you find yourself smiling at the sweet, handsome, lawyer who fathered your child. 

You are so happy you forced yourself to tell him the truth. 

You don't hear anything to your left but your heart rate monitor beeping, but your ear is also so clogged up not a lot of noise is getting through and you know it's throwing off your spatial awareness. It hurts to roll your head, but it eases your nerves to find you are alone with Matt in the exam room. However, you can't help the worry that bubbles in your stomach over the lack of your daughter. 

You know she must be with Foggy. The hospital is probably an incredibly unpleasant place for her - you hate being here because of the smells and atmosphere and that must be amplified for her. You can't imagine all the awful things she might hear here - the sick and dying and the surgeries. You are grateful for Matt's best friend. You will have to find a way to thank him properly. 

You force your gaze back to Matt and begin to slowly rub your thumb over his knuckles. He has so many scars there and you don't possibly know how he could have collected them all. He's told you before he practices boxing, but you don't think it is the bare knuckle kind. Maybe the punching bag can split skin - you have no idea about any of it beyond what you've seen in short viral videos. 

You have toyed with the idea of asking about going to the gym with him. You think it would be a fun experience for Minnie and you're curious how fit you actually are. Your workouts consist of chasing a toddler around - star jumps, push ups, and weights are no longer in your repertoire and you haven't properly gone on a run since high school. Plus, Minnie has recently learned what a cartwheel is and you are sure she will want to learn to do one and a gym is a safe place for that. 

You fall into a daydream about Matt teaching you and Mouse how to tumble, closing your eyes again as you do. You picture buying cute little leotards and watching your daughter perform a routine until there's movement under your hand. 

Matt squeezes your fingers, and you open your eyes just in time to see him blink awake. 

He gives you a sleepy smile, then with his free hand pulls his glasses out from somewhere under his blanket and puts them on. You watch him, taking in his crows feet before they disappear. 

“How are you feeling?” He asks as he shrugs the blanket off his shoulders.

You take a moment to consider the answer. You honestly feel horrible, but you don't feel as horrible as you previously did. There are aches and pains but you feel human again, as opposed to the concept of one. So you squeeze his hand and respond, “Better. I didn't…I didn't think I was that sick.” 

Matt hums and somehow scoots closer to the bed, then lifts your hand up to kiss the back of your hand. You feel your face heat up and your heart rate monitor beeps a little faster. “I'm glad, you gave us a good scare,” he says, keeping your hand against his lips. 

You have to remind yourself he's a very touchy person to keep your heart rate from increasing even more. To help with that, you drop your gaze to his chest - he's wearing a Columbia sweatshirt that is far too big on him and hides his lean frame. 

“What time is it?” His question throws you off at first, but then you realize there is a clock above the curtain entrance to the room. 

It takes you a second to process, which you blame on the illness and not the fact you haven't used an analog clock in ages, “Almost 1:30. I'm…guessing that it is PM. I can't really tell.”

Matt nods and you guess he can tell whether it is day or night. You hope it is day - you'd feel so guilty if you'd been in the hospital longer than a few hours.

Behind your hand, a small smile appears on his face, “Minnie and Foggy are on their way back up. I think she heard - oh. Okay, yes, she heard you talking. She says she has a present for you.”

Your heart pangs for your daughter. You don't want her to see you like this, but you desperately need her in your arms. You try to push yourself up, but you don't know if you have the energy to keep yourself sitting.

“Do you know how the bed works?” You ask and Matt shakes his head. He reaches out and feels along the railings, but by his frown, you guess he can't figure it out. You doubt any of the button labels are in Braille.

“Let me get the nurse.” 

He squeezes your hand once more before letting go. You tell yourself to ignore the strange feeling that envelopes you as he disappears behind the curtain separating you from everyone else. 

You don't want to be alone again. 

But you aren't - Matt is gone for barely thirty seconds before he's slipping back into the room, followed by a tired looking nurse. The woman comes up to your right side and you finally notice a little stand computer tucked by the bed. As she swipes her card key to unlock it, she looks at you, “How are you feeling?”

You decide to go with the same answer you gave Matt, “Better, ma’am.”

“Good, good,” she says as she types something. You go through the quick song and dance of confirming your name and birthdate, before she starts her questions, “Your pain on a scale of one to ten?” 

You have to think about that - your head hurts but not nearly as much as it did last night and your body feels sore and groggy. You bite your lip before estimating, “About a four..?” 

She adds that to your chart, “how about your ear? It should feel a bit clearer, you had a lot of fluid that drained out.”

That surprises you because you definitely do not remember that. You touch your ear and it feels far too warm and sensitive. You had no idea it was the problem, so you feel like you can't compare. 

“I don't know. Full? It…hurts. Like it's…sore on the inside?” you feel like an idiot trying to explain, but you have no idea about ear anatomy. 

The nurse hums, then turns to you, pulling a stethoscope out of her pocket, “I'm going to listen to your lungs. Take a deep breath.” 

You do as you are told as she places the device on your back to listen. You repeat this a few times with her until she's satisfied and she goes to enter her findings in the computer. 

“The doctor will be in shortly,” she tells you before leaning down to adjust your bed, so it can help you sit. You go from laying down to being propped up, “He will go over your discharge instructions.”

You're being discharged? You just woke up and haven't talked to anyone at all. The fact they are sending you away confuses you, “I'm being discharged?”

The nurse nods, not even looking at you as she locks the computer, “Yes. Do you feel you shouldn't be?”

You flush at the question and duck your head in shame. You know better than to question a doctor - if they think you should be discharged, you are fine. You force yourself to shrug and apologize, “No, I'm sorry, I just didn't expect it.”

The nurse simply gives you another hum before leaving to probably go tend to a patient that actually needs her. Almost instantly, Matt is back by your side, taking your hand. He kisses the meat of your thumb as he sits back in his chair.

“If you need to stay, you can stay,” he quietly advises.

You quickly shake your head, “No, it will be fine.” You huff a sad laugh, “It's not like I can afford this anyways.” You don't want to imagine the bill you are going to receive - being brought into the emergency room and given all kinds of medicine. You’ll have no more savings. 

“Don't worry about it,” he quickly tells you, a frown clear on his face. “Focus on getting better. Taking care of yourself. We can tackle the bill later - there's plenty of work arounds.”

Guilt pools in your belly - you don't need Matt worrying about your money problems. You force yourself to nod at his words, simply so he'll not try to comfort you over this issue. You think he must be on to what you are doing because he squeezes your hand and starts to say something, but quickly cuts himself off. You don't understand why until a few moments later - the curtain closing off your room is pushed aside and Minnie barrels in, closely followed by Foggy. 

You barely look at the blonde, instead pulling away from Matt to throw open your arms for your baby. The speed in which she manages to scale Matt and jump to you is impressive and you hug her to you like you're trying to absorb her. Your arm screams at you due to the fact you're trying to bend where your IVs are, but you don't care - and you don't care if your little angel is nearly strangling you with how tight she's hugging you. 

“Don't ever get sick again!” She whines into your neck and you nod against her. You'll never get sick again - what you put her through for being sick will forever live in your mind.

“I'm sorry, baby, I'm sorry, I didn't know I was sick.” 

“It was scary!” 

That absolutely breaks your heart and tears start to fall. 

“I'm so sorry, Minnie,” you choke out as you try to hold her impossibly closer. The guilt you had regarding money transforms into guilt over being sick at all. How dare you put Minnie through this? You should have realized something was wrong. You repeatedly apologize into her hair, trying to keep yourself from sobbing while she clings to you.

You feel the bed dip and then Matt is pulling you both against his chest and pressing his lips to your crown, “Shhh, it's okay. It's okay.”

You try to shake your head because none of this is okay. You scared and upset your daughter and you've got a stupid ear infection that is going to bankrupt you. Nothing is okay. 

“Do you want to show your Mommy what you got her to make her feel better?” Foggy asks Minnie after a minute of you being hysterical and shame courses through you as you are reminded someone else is there, watching you breakdown. 

You are such a fucking mess. 

However, Minnie pulls away from being squashed between you and Matt and jumps off the bed to go to the blonde. You finally notice, through teary tired eyes, that he has a decently sized gift bag. He sets it down on the ground and Mouse has to pick it up by its sides because it's too tall for her to hold by the handles. 

As she tries to figure out how to get back on the bed, you realize Matt is still wrapped around you and you decide you are too tired to fight with your anxiety and guilt any longer. You want his comfort - so you lean more into his arms and he responds by nuzzling you. He begins running his hands over your arms and somehow, it begins to soothe away your upset.

You miss whatever exchange your daughter and Foggy have, but he lifts her up and places her and the gift bag on the bed and she hauls it over to you. 

“We got you a present to get better,” she tells you and you know whatever it is, you'll cherish it. 

There's no tissue blocking your view and you see something pink and white checkered that looks very soft. Before you can move to pull it out, Matt intervenes. He takes your wrist and gently stretches out your arm that has the IV in it, humming against you, “You have to keep your arm straight.” 

You flush at the reminder, feeling like a complete idiot, and use only one hand to pull out the gift. 

It is a massive blanket and it is so so soft. You want to bury yourself in it.

“Oh, Mouse, this will make me feel better. Thank you so so much,” you say as you reach out with your good arm to hug her again. She wastes no time tucking herself back between you and Matt.

“Blankies make everything better,” she advises wisely, “Froggy said so.” 

You can't help but smile at that and hold your daughter even closer. You turn your attention to Foggy, who has just been an absolute saint for watching over your daughter, “Thank you so much, Foggy. For everything. I can't thank you enough.”

He scoffs and waves his hand, “it is my pleasure. This wasn't my first late night Murdock call, it won't be my last, and she is at least a pleasure to be around at three in the morning.”

You want to ask how they even knew you were sick, but you also don't want to know the details. You can only guess Minnie somehow called Matt and you aren't in a place to hear that conversation. The guilt and emotions would overwhelm you even more than you already are and you are so so tired of crying. So you hug your daughter even closer, so she's in your lap, and mumble another thank you. 

Foggy takes a seat in one of the visitor chairs and asks, “has the doctor come yet to talk to you?” You very much appreciate his concern, but most importantly, his tact. You don't feel like he's judging or lying to you. He seems genuinely concerned.

You try to not shake your head at his question, since Matt is still holding you and it would just hurt your head more, and reply “Just the nurse. She said I'm getting discharged.” 

The blonde huffs, leaning back in his seat to cross his arms, “Wow, they really do just turn and burn. Last time I was here, they pushed me through, too. American health care, right?” You hum in agreement - the health care system in America is very bad. 

Foggy dives into a story about being in the hospital when he was a kid. It quickly catches Minnie’s attention and you realize this may be more for her benefit than anyone else's. You try to listen, but instead find yourself resting your head on Matt's shoulder and closing your eyes again. 

You’ll just stay like this, your daughter in your lap and her father holding you against him, until the doctor comes. 

If he takes his time getting to you, you don't think anyone is going to complain. 

---

It takes another three hours for you to be fully discharged. You have to fill out a mass of paperwork before the doctor even speaks to you, but after he does, no time is wasted to clear you out of the needed exam room. 

Any concerns you have about getting home are moot, as Foggy has everything covered. He has borrowed his girlfriend's car and procured a child's seat from his parents - who apparently have multiple due to their ‘hoard of grandchildren’. Minnie doesn't fuss at all, focused on being the best helper she can be by carrying your purse, which had apparently been brought in with you. Matt is insistent on helping you walk, which you are grateful for - standing makes you very dizzy and you have to focus to not stumble. 

To your great surprise, Karen is waiting outside your building as Foggy pulls the car up. She's carrying a few shopping bags, and beside her is a grumpy looking man you vaguely recognize holding a very old fashion looking crockpot. It has an orange vintage flower pattern and you kind of want it. 

No one says anything as you all climb out of the vehicle. Matt quickly gets himself under your shoulder and his arm around your waist while Minnie latches herself to your hand. You don't know if she thinks she's helping or if she's obeying your rule of hand-holding when outside. 

You all awkwardly stand on the sidewalk and you watch as Foggy and the new man have a staring contest. You have no idea what is going on and kind of don't care, as you want to get up to your apartment. After a full minute, Foggy points to the man and declares, “you aren't coming to Thanksgiving,” before marching towards the door to the building. Matt, and thus you, follows after him and as you pass Karen, she snorts with laughter. She and the man fall in line behind you as you make your way to the stairs. 

You just know that if you allowed him, Matt would pick you up and carry you up the three flights of stairs, but you refuse to let it happen. You are dizzy and far too warm, but also very stubborn and you determinedly take each step at a time, refusing to stop until you're on your floor. Only then do you resume leaning into his hold. 

Foggy unlocks your door then ushers you all inside. Minnie lets go of your hand almost instantly, drops your purse, and runs to the bedroom. You guess she is going to grab Pig and Scooby to update them on everything. You make your way to your couch as Karen sets the groceries on the table and her grumpy friend finds a spot on the counter to plug in the crockpot. 

As she unpacks, Karen narrates, “Okay, so I got you all the essentials - Gatorade, tea, saltines, ibuprofen, a compress, and I got you life savers to suck on because that helps when you want something to sweet but don't want to eat anything. I picked up your medicine, it's just ear drops. And of course, the most important thing,” you turn on the couch just in time to see her motion towards your kitchen, “Nelson Family Chicken Soup.”

You stare at the blonde with wide eyes and you feel like you are going to start crying again. No one has ever done this much for you before - not even your ex-boyfriends. Your last one wouldn't even pick up tampons for you, but Karen has clearly gone out of her way and you've only met her a handful of times. You have no idea how to thank her and Foggy for everything they have done for you. You are going to have to bake them a cake or something. As for Matt, you know you are never going to be able to repay him for the comfort and care he has given you in the last few hours.

You are so overwhelmed with love for this little group of friends who are letting you into their life. 

“Thank you so much,” you say, meaning it with all of your heart, “you didn't have to do all of that. Thank you.”

Karen gives you a warm smile before waving you off, “Don't mention it. You'd do the same for any of us.”

You happily would and plan to take notes of what Karen bought, just in case. However, the soup is something that confuses you. Did Matt's best friend bring Minnie to his house to cook? You turn to Foggy, who is examining Minnie’s toy chest, and ask, “You made soup?”

The blonde man looks up with a laugh, “God, no, you don't want me cooking. That was all my mom. Her soup is a cure all.”

“It is,” Matt vouches from beside you. “It can cure almost anything. It got rid of my flu last year.”

“It saved countless Christmases,” Foggy adds.

“It also stops cramps,” Karen confirms. 

You look to the man in the kitchen for his approval and he just shrugs, “Haven't had it, but it smells good.”

You have to cover your face at that point because it is all too much. Foggy's mother made you soup? How did she even know you were sick? Why did she do this for you - someone she's never met? Someone she has no connection to at all? 

An arm wraps around your shoulder and you are pulled to lean against Matt. He nuzzles against you and whispers, “you aren't alone anymore. We're all here for you.” 

You hide yourself against him and he starts to rub your back in a comforting manner. This is far too much for you. You don't know how to process all of it.

Luckily, a distraction from your patheticness comes in the form of your daughter. 

You hear her come back into the living room and boldly ask the strange man in your kitchen, “Who are you?”

You try to listen since you are curious and you can feel that Matt has turned his head to pay attention to his daughter. You stay tucked against his shoulder, wishing you had your new big blanket to wrap yourself in.

“My name's Frank, what's yours, little lady?” The man says and you try to commit the name to memory. You wonder if he is Karen's boyfriend or something - you don't think he's been mentioned before. 

“Minnie!” She declares, then, “This is Pig and Scooby. They like soup, too!” You guess she's held up her toys for him to see. She must be less nervous of the man since he is in your home.

There's a round of chuckles before Frank speaks again, “That right? How about we leave it to your Daddy to get you and your friends some soup and we let your Mommy get some rest?”

There's a few beats of silence before you hear Minnie again, “Okay. Bye-bye, Mister Frank.” 

The man barks with laughter, which barely covers the pitter-patter of feet coming towards you, “Daddy, can we have soup for dinner, I'm hungry.” 

“Of course, princess, I'll make you a bowl.” 

The others must take that as a cue, because when you lift your head up, the three other adults are making their way back to your front door. 

Karen lightly calls out your name to get your attention, and when she sees you looking at her, offers a soft smile, “Feel better soon, and let us know if you need anything.”

“Anything at all,” Foggy adds, “I'm more than happy to play babysitter. Parks are my specialty if the squirt needs to get out all that Murdock energy.”

“I'm not a squirt!” Mouse huffs and you can picture her puffing up her cheeks. 

“I don't know, kid, you look like a squirt to me,” Frank tells her and she lets out a long ‘nooooo’ in response. 

You smile against Matt at the little exchange - you can tell your daughter is extremely fond of Foggy and that makes your heart rest easy. She's never been so vocal around other adults before. 

“Thank you, so much. I really, really mean it,” you tell the people who have come to your rescue. 

“It is really not a problem, you're family, now,” Foggy tells you before directing himself towards Minnie, “Okay, squirt, can I get a high five?” The sound of a toddler running followed by a slap tells you she just did that. “Good girl! Now, help your Dad take care of your Mom and call me if he gives you any trouble, got it?”

“Got it, Froggy!” 

Goodbyes are exchanged then it is just your little family left in your apartment. You finally allow yourself to pull away from Matt.

“You don't need to stay.”

His response is to raise his eyebrows at you, “You think I'm going to leave you alone while you're sick? You need to rest. I’ll take care of everything else. Minnie can finally show me her Scooby movie.”

You want to tell him ‘no’, that you have it handled and he should go get his own rest, but you know it's fruitless. You're learning Matt is committed to his role of being a father and there will be no way to convince him to go. He's a lawyer - he probably already has fifteen arguments ready for why he should stay. 

So you give in and give a small nod, “Okay…” 

He breaks into a big grin, like he expected you to push back and is happy you didn't, “Good. Are you feeling up to some soup?” 

Your stomach turns at the idea of eating anything. You’d been given IV fluids at the hospital and managed a cup of water, but you do not want to eat. There is nothing actually wrong with your stomach - everything is centered on your ear - but that doesn't change the fact you'll probably not be able to keep anything down. 

“No,” you tell him after a moment, then add, “I think I'm going to shower and go to bed.”

“Okay,” he hums, reaching up and oh so gently petting your cheek with the back of his fingers and making a shiver run up your spine, “Let me know if you need anything. You don't need to get up, if you just say anything, I'll hear it, okay?”

You don't like the idea of him being able to hear your sick gross body, but there is nothing you can do about it. You slowly push yourself up, careful to not get too dizzy, then start towards your bedroom. Behind you, Matt starts talking about soup and Scooby with Minnie. 

Once you are alone in your room with the door closed, you break down. You sit on your bed, hide your face in a pillow, and just let out all of your tears. All your frustration, your shame, your guilt, your confusion, your tiredness, and your pain pours out of you. Your shoulders shake as you bite into the pillow to try and hide your sobs and you pray Matt realizes you need to be alone right now and distracts Minnie. You just need to get all of this out of you. 

Your body is so exhausted you can only cry for a few minutes before you are completely drained. You feel slightly better emotionally, but your head is throbbing even more. 

You desperately want to get clean and curl up now. You weakly toss your pillow back on the bed and force yourself up to gather something clean to change into. You place the new garments of the dresser, before going to the closet and pulling out a new sheet for your bed. You know you don't have the energy to strip it, but you don't want to sleep on your own filth. So, you push your blanket off, then lay the clean sheet over the dirty one. 

Satisfied with your meager attempt, you grab your clothes, open the bedroom door, and shuffle to the bathroom. 

You look like absolute shit and don't need your mirror to tell you that, so you try to not look at it. To help, you grab a towel and maneuver it to hang over your medicine box, then strip out of your soiled clothing. 

You let your body go on autopilot to start the shower and as you wait for it to heat up, you wash your face and brush your teeth. That alone makes you feel cleaner. You take your hair out of its ponytail - you washed it on Saturday, so you aren't going to rewash it, but you'd like to wet your skull to remove some sweat. 

You kick your dirty clothes into a corner, then check the spray. It feels nice and hot, but not scalding, and you step in. 

Almost immediately, your vision goes spotty and it feels like your brain is floating in ice water. You have to reach out with both hands and lean on the wall so you don't tumble over and you shuffle to it to press your forehead to the cool tile. 

Maybe a shower wasn't such a good idea after all, but you feel so sweaty and sticky and gross. If you just stand and let the water wash over you, maybe it will help and you won't have to let go of the wall. Or you can just sit on the floor, but with how you are feeling that runs the risk of you not being able to get back up. 

A knock on the door startles you and you have to push more against the tile to keep yourself upright. 

You close your eyes tightly. 

You think it must be Minnie. She's come to go potty when you've been in the shower before and you don't think she went before you left the hospital. You take a deep breath and center yourself before calling out, “Come in.”

The door opens and closes and the voice that speaks isn't Minnie.

“Are you okay?”

You shake your head because you are very much not okay in any sense of the word. You don't know how to put that into words or even if you want to. You don't want to go on the emotional rollercoaster again - you're so tired. You just want to get clean and go back to sleep.

You don't mean to space out, but you do. There's just so much going on and your body decides to only focus on remaining upright. So when hands smooth over your waist, you nearly scream. You know it's Matt, but it still scares you. 

Why is he in the shower with you? 

You try to turn around to question him, but his hands tighten around you, keeping you in place. 

“Let me help you.”

The words shake your core. Your heart begins to pound in your chest and you know, if you had any tears left in you, they would be falling. Why is he doing this? Why is he here, asking to help you? Why is he pushing for it?

You feel him step even closer to you and his chest brushes against your back. He breathes your name into your ear, then repeats, “Let me help you, please.”

You try to shake your head and choke out, “You should be with Minnie.” Minnie needs him, she needs his help, not you. He is here to help watch over her, he even said so himself.

His nose bumps against your ear and you feel like your knees are going to give out. Why is he doing this?

“She's trying to give soup to her toys and watching her shows. She doesn't need me right now. You do. Let me help you.”

You push your hands firmer against the tile to keep your balance. 

Matt has been with you all day, holding your hand and keeping you upright until you left his arms to go take a shower. You haven't asked this of him - he's been with you of his own free will. He's been so gentle with you, so caring, so comforting. 

His hands move from your waist around to your stomach and slowly up to your sternum and very gently pulls you flush against his chest. He feels so firm, so steady, holding you up. 

Do you really want to push him away? Do you really want to send him back to watch Minnie? 

You can barely keep yourself standing. You're so dizzy. It feels like at any moment your body is going to give out and you'll collapse.

It feels nice to be held. 

It feels nice that he is here for you, for whatever motivation he has. 

You think of your daughter. How scary this must be for her and how terrifying it would be for her if you fainted in the shower after everything that has happened. 

That must be why Matt is here with you. He's far more in tune with your body and you know that means Minnie is too.

He's trying to keep her safe by keeping you safe. 

You need to think of Minnie, not yourself.

Matt whispers your name again and you drop your hand from the tile and place it over Matt's.

“Okay…” you whisper. “Okay.”

Lips brush your shoulder and his hands move to be at your ribs and there's a gentle pressure, silently asking you to turn. You take a steadying breath and start to rotate, slow as can be. 

You can't look at him in the face. Despite everything, shame burns deep inside of you. You've always been able to do things yourself - you've always had to. Even if it feels good to have the help, to know Matt is going to catch you if you fall, the voice that lives inside you hisses that you're being weak. Pathetic. 

You force your eyes open and the first thing you see are the scars going across his chest. 

He has been through so much you don't even know about, just like you have been through things you haven't told him about, and to make this work, to make raising your daughter work, you have to trust each other. You have to trust Matt and he needs to trust you. 

You slowly reach up and place your hand half over the scar on his right pec, then, to prove to yourself that you mean the beliefs in your head, you lean in and press your lips to the other side of the scar. 

He inhales sharply and you feel like, for some reason, you made the right move. 

Neither of you move for a minute, then Matt gently presses against you and guides you back into the spray of the shower. 

It feels so good against your hot sticky skin and you find yourself letting yourself lean more into Matt and you give in to your desires and let your head fall against his shoulder, closing your eyes as you do.

You feel him reach behind you to the shower caddy and you are happy you have been using bar soap, so you don't have to explain what is what to Matt. He lathers up his hands, then begins to wash you. He starts with your back and you decide to just zone out. You can't debate anymore, you can't let your mind go crazy - you're too tired, too sick to deal with much more. 

Matt's hands slowly work over your back and sides. They dip down to your bottom and even though he's touching somewhere intimate, it doesn't feel lewd. 

After your back has been washed, he tilts his head just slightly and his nose brushes the shell of your ear and he breathes into it, “turn around so I can get your front.” 

It takes a few moments, but you do as you are told, and then you are leaning back against Matt's chest, head once again resting on his shoulder, just the opposite one this time. Your nose is a hair's breadth away from his jaw. 

He relathers his hands, then starts on your stomach. He's so methodical about it and it feels almost hedonistic. You're not going to deny it feels good, but you know it's not in any way sexual or wanting. You just haven't been touched in so long, so anything will feel good. 

He avoids your nipples when he runs his hands over and under your breasts and he doesn't linger, moving up to your shoulders, then down your arms. When he gets to your hands, he laces your fingers together. 

“Do you want your hair done?” He quietly asks and you just barely shake your head.

“Just want to get it wet,” you mumble into his throat. 

He hums in response and squeezes your hands, “‘m gonna need to turn you around again to do that and to get your legs.” 

He keeps your hands in his and, to your great surprise, turns you slowly around like you are dancing, one arm over your head and another around your back. When you're facing the right way again, you open your eyes to see Matt smiling at you with the softest look. 

In your chest, your heart clenches. 

No one has ever looked at you like that before. No one. No one has ever treated you the way he has. 

You don't think you care if it is because you are the mother of his child. Matt is a truly good and loving person and you want to bask in it, at least for now. 

You let go of one of his hands and cup his jaw. He presses into it, closing his eyes and it's like you can feel any tension he might have in him melt away. You stay like that for a few seconds before he turns his head just slightly to nuzzle into your palm, then he lets go of you to drag his fingers through your hair. He makes sure to get your roots wet, but doesn't soak your hair. His nails dig slightly into your scalp and you try to not moan at how nice it feels.

“Hold onto my shoulders,”  he directs you and you do as you are told. Only when you have a secure hold on him does he kneel down and begin to run his hands over your legs. He starts high on one thigh and works his way down to your foot, then repeats the process on the opposite leg. 

You can't help but look down at him, watching as he delicately washes you. There's this deep urge in your belly, right above your core, to tangle your hands into his hair. A memory from your night together, all those years ago, flashes through your mind. 

He had backed you against a wall and gotten on his knees to push your dress up and your panties down. Your thigh had been draped over his shoulder and he had eaten you out like a starving man before taking you to bed and making you cum two more times on his tongue. 

You quickly banish the thoughts because not only do you know it's not the time for that, but that it was a one night stand between strangers. You don't want to make things any more awkward by Matt realizing he's having such an effect on your body, even if you don't intend for it. 

You tell yourself to think of the pajamas you've picked out to wear instead - a nice, soft, baggy shirt and your favorite biker shorts. You picture the amazing blanket your daughter got you and how nice it will be to curl up in it and sleep. 

You want that more than anything right now. You want to just sleep. 

You focus on that until Matt is back in front of you and turning off the water. 

“All done,” he whispers and you repeat the words back to him. 

He helps you out of the shower and gets you wrapped in a towel before starting to dry himself off. You don't allow yourself to admire his body and focus on getting the water droplets off of your body and out of your hair. 

Once you are no longer dripping, you bundle your hair back into a ponytail and pull on your clean clothes. 

The little change makes you feel so much better.  You always forget how just being clean can change your mood so drastically. 

“Thank you,” you whisper once you are dressed. “Thank you so much, Matt.” 

You turn to finally look at him, and he has redressed in just his boxers and oversized sweater. He steps towards you and cups your jaw, smoothing his thumb over your cheeks, “You don't have to thank me. I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you. You just have to let me in, okay? Please let me in.”

You close your eyes at his words and nod. 

You can't promise you will let him in fully, but after everything he's shown you in such a short time, you think you can try. You can try to let Matt in. 

“Okay.” 

He lets you go with a small, sweet, and soft smile then cocks his head slightly to the right, “Let's get you to bed, I think someone has decided they want to join you for a nap.”

Joy swells in your heart and belly at the idea of cuddling with your daughter. You want to wrap her up and hold her and let her feel loved and protected. You know now how nice it is and words tumble from your lips without you meaning them to, “you should come too.”

His eyes go wide at the offer before that small sweet smile morphs into a boyish grin, “I would like that. I would like that a lot.”

--

a/n: Matt would not stop smooching. I could not hold him back from smooching.

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[rheasbabymama]

ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀ ᴍᴏᴍᴍʏ - ʀʜᴇᴀ ʀɪᴘʟᴇʏ

Summary: Spending time around Becky's kids gives her the biggest baby fever. WC: 1.7k Warnings: Breeding, babies, pregnancy, pregnancy kink, car sex, sex in a car, blow jobs in a car, strap-on, oral sex, choking, daddy kink, praise kink, degradation

You’d seen her smile today, the smile that always curves her lips in the presence of children; it was free and content and it made your heart practically burst at the seams. It was so effortless and comforting to fall into place beside her, taking your seat next to her on the ground where she played with Roux, joining in with the game they’d created. 

Rhea saw you with the children too, watching fondly as you laughed in hushed tones with Roux, causing mischief with the boy before trying to pass your bad influence onto Archie too. It was silent the way you’d both come to the same conclusion, this is what you wanted next. 

So later in the day, when the children were subdued from their drained energy and the sky was beginning to darken outside, you all made your way to the living room to watch a movie to end the evening. You were only innocently refilling your glass in the kitchen when she rested her chin on your shoulder with her arms snaking around your waist. 

Your breath hitched lightly when you felt her brush against your ass, a bulge you’d not been aware of pushing into you.

“Rhea, have you been wearing that all day?” you whispered, she only smirked against your neck with her kiss. 

“Mhm.” She nodded with her hands inching downwards to rest on your belly. “You’d look so perfect with my baby in you, sweetheart.”

Always the tease, she left you with a kiss on the cheek and a smirk as she left the room. And her teasing didn’t quite stop there with her hand setting up home on your thigh as the movie played and her lips ghosting your ear with occasional whispers to make you laugh. She even went so far as to guide your hand to her crotch, holding in a laugh at the way you’d cough to hide your surprise.

“This could be ours soon, love,” she whispered to you with a grin that matched yours, an innocent facade before her voice lowered and her hand dared to inch upwards beneath the blanket. “You’re gonna look so pretty when I’ve fucked a baby into you.”

She snickered at the way you fidgeted in your seat, looking at her with pleading eyes. It was lucky she adored seeing you look so needy because she grabbed your hand and pulled you to a standing position.

“We’re gonna have to get going,” She smiled at the rest of the group. “I’m getting tired and I need to drive us home.” 

You looked over at her as she drove with her fingers gripping the steering wheel with her other hand on the gear stick, often moving over to rest on your thigh with a smile shot your way. Your conversation was held with an undertone of anticipation of the evening you were both looking forward to, you’re certain your underwear is soaked by now with the growing heat between your thighs. 

“So I think that w- oh, what’re you doing?” She interrupted herself with her words spoken through a large smirk with her eyes flicking down to your hand where it had made its way to her lap. You wordlessly unbuckled her belt with a metallic clink, pulling at the zipper of her jeans. 

You smiled sweetly at her when she glanced over, freeing her strap as she adjusted slightly in her seat. You climbed up onto your seat to be able to lean over, peering up at Rhea through your lashes as you lowered your head until your lips brushed against the tip; she nudged your head lower and your jaw slackened to take her into your mouth with your tongue licking over the length.

“You’re such a good little slut, aren’t you, hm?” She rasped from above your bobbing head, you knew just how to suck her strap in a way that hits against her clit and the sensation and the sight of your head in her lap, her hand cupping the back of your neck, made her ravenous. Your eyes watered slightly with the way she’d lift her hips but god it felt so good, lips wrapped around her cock as it hit the back of your throat. 

You heard the clicking of the car’s indicators before feeling it come to a stop, Rhea tapped your cheek lightly for you to pull away and she loved the perfect sight. Your lips were wet, a string of spit clinging to them from her strap and your eyes were so desperate.

She’d pulled over to the side of the road in her lusting thoughts, lucky enough to take a slight detour to somewhere a little more secluded. 

“C’mere.” she spoke with a nod of her head towards her lap which you instantly obeyed but not before eagerly ridding yourself of your jeans, climbing over to her side of the car with your knees planted either side of her legs. Your hands cupped her cheeks while hers held your waist, pulling her into a kiss you’d both been craving. 

She kissed you firmly with the softness of her lipstick transferring onto you, taking all control with her hands pulling you into her with her strap ghosting against your clothed cunt teasingly. Your hips twitched on their own accord, just chasing down any semblance of pressure while her tongue pushed against yours dominantly and her hands crept beneath your shirt with the bluntness of her nails digging into your skin. 

She was so ravenous for you, groaning into your mouth at your whines and the way your hips tried to move against her.

“Such a needy girl.” She muttered against you, trailing her lips across your jaw, planted kisses beneath your ear with her teeth grazing the skin. “Fuck yourself on daddy’s cock like the obedient thing you are.” She whispered, pushing the material of your underwear aside and positioning the tip of her cock at your dripping entrance.

Your hands held onto her shoulders as you sunk down onto her length, taking it inch by inch as it filled your pussy until it nudged perfectly at your sweet spot and Rhea bathed in the surreal sight of your mouth dropping open with a silenced moan as you began a rhythm. She pulled your shirt over your head with a wanton lust clouding her gaze, unclasping your bra and throwing it aside with no cares of possibly being seen through the windows, too intent on pulling a hardened nipple between her teeth. 

Your movements sent a heat through Rhea's core, the way you fucked yourself hit against her clit and you felt her moan against your chest, biting into the pillowy flesh of your breast with a suck that’ll leave a mark behind. 

“God, you’re so good, sweetheart.” she rasped against you, nearing the edge herself from how worked up she’d gotten. The moan you let out when her thumb pushed over your clit just spurred her on, matching your pace with thrusts of her hips. You came together with unplanned synchrony, breathing heavily against one another’s lips, too starving to allow much time to pass before Rhea's strength was put to good use. 

She easily manoeuvred your body, helping you climb to the back seats closely following behind you with her body straddling yours where your back lay against the leather. You watched her undress herself, discarding her jeans and pulling her shirt over her head with her breasts being set free with a bounce when she unclasped her bra; she smirked at the way your mouth practically watered at the sight. 

Her nipple was hard beneath the flick of your tongue and she sighed at the sensitivity, at the way you sucked it into your mouth with your fingers pinching at the other, palming at the soft flesh. Her hand pushed against your throat and the vibration from your whimpers just urged her on.

Your underwear were pulled away and her cock roughly pushed into your pussy with little warning.

“‘M gonna fuck this needy pussy of yours until you’re a pathetic little mess.” She murmured with her voice low and her hips moving with a teasing pace. “Gonna fill you up with my cum like the breeding bitch you are.”

The hand that wasn’t resting against your neck took a firm hold of your thigh and your legs wrapped around her waist to pull her into you, belly twinging and choked moans falling into her mouth from yours with the way her dick fucked into you. 

“Fuck, daddy- feels so good.” You stuttered out against her.

“Mhm. And you’re taking me so well.” She returned, looking into your eyes lustfully whilst the arousal pooled in her stomach too, her back growing sticky with sweat beneath your fingertips with the way your nails aimlessly scratched her skin making her lips part with grunts of pleasure. “You’re gonna look so perfect with your belly swollen and full with my baby growing inside of your beautiful body.”

Every word she murmured set your skin alight, pussy clenching around her with the lewd wetness of your cunt sounding out in the car with each snap of her hips into yours. Her movements began to stutter with how close she was growing to her release, grasping her bottom lip between her teeth while your moans were nothing but breathy choked grunts. 

“I’m gonna cum, sweetheart. C’mon, show me how good you can be for me. Cum around daddy’s dick.” 

Her back was littered in nails marks, crescent grooves and light pink scratches, only being added to when she sent sublime waves throughout your body. Every sense was flooded and drowning in Rhea, coming down from your orgasms with sloppy and breathless kisses, teeth often clashing with no cares about the way her teeth tugged at your lip with a metallic flavour left behind. 

Her strap stilled in your pussy, leaving you with that feeling of fullness as she kissed you; her bare breasts pushed against yours and you could feel her body rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath. Her lips pecked along the heated skin of your cheek, cupping your jaw softly before smiling down at you. 

“You think it worked?” You asked which earned a chuckle in return.

“I think we should try more when we get home - just to up our chances.” She shrugged smilingly.

[3nni3]

What happens in teledisko, stays in teledisko...

cw: +18, nsfw, rpf, consumption of alcohol, smut (handjob), cursing, lowkey exhibitionism. f! reader

a/n: when the idiots get an idea for a story, i make it happen. this is my first smut i've ever published, and english isn't my first language, but i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing this. also if you find any mistakes, no you didn't 😅

no word count because idfk i wrote this in my phone's notes app👍🏻 kinda short one

okay let's go

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

The night had started out with getting drinks at the nearest Späti. You two had been wandering around Berlin for a few hours now, getting drinks at every corner store. After seven different spätis, and six beers (one stop was to get a bottle of water, even though the tall man who accompanied you wasn't that excited about your drink of choice) you started feeling tipsy and tired.

Sightseeing in Berlin was amazing, but tiring. You felt the energy being drained from your body and ready to return to your hotel, but the man who was sat next to you in this tram had other ideas.

--

"Found it!" he basically dragged you after him, holding your hand gently but firmly as you approached the teledisco booth. This was a mutual agreement earlier today, before you felt too tired, but your time together was getting closer to an end so you pushed past the exhaustion and enjoyed the moment.

You stop in front of the screen to choose a song, and he stands next to you, his hands now in his pockets.

Scrolling through the music lists, looking for the perfect one, you find something. "Can we do Gimme Gimme Gimme by ABBA?" you ask and press the button, without waiting for an answer. He grabs you by your shoulders and pushes you in the booth, closing the door behind him laughing.

The first notes of Gimme Gimme Gimme starts playing, lights flash and the vibe is intense. You scream out the lyrics together, your arms against each other as you feel the beat of the music in your body.

The space is small, not much air left between you two as you glance up at him, noticing his eyes on you, the hot air in the booth making him sweat and his face glisten. 'He looks so fucking hot' you think to yourself as you suddenly get pressed against the wall, startled. His chest is flush against yours as he gently tilts your head up, feeling his breath against your lips as you look him in the eyes.

"You're gonna be the death of me..." his voice is a whisper, but loud enough for you to hear. He captures your lips in a heated kiss, the music fading in the background as you feel his tongue brush against your lower lip. The intensity of the moment drowns your thoughts and your mind gets blurry. The blonde man's hands explore your body as yours find their way to his hair, pulling slightly as he moans against your lips. That must be the most gorgeous sound you have ever heard. You pull away to breathe, he smiles against your lips as the song nears it's end and you hear the last chords of it playing.

"Another song or do we get the fuck out of here?" he asks smirking. You push him away, laughing, as you pass him and step out of the booth, going back to the screen to choose another song. Joost stands behind you, and you feel him take a step closer. His chest pressing up against your back and you feel lips on your neck, making your breath shaky. Shaking him off of you, you open the door to the booth. "Ladies first," you joke as he rolls his eyes laughing, entering the booth.

Stepping in the booth after him as Call Out My Name by The Weeknd starts playing, and everything feels like a fever dream. Beautiful man in front of you, smiling his charming smile, you both surrounded by music and flashing lights.

"So this was your song of choice huh?" his voice low as he presses you against a wall once again. You feel his hand dragging down from your chest, over your stomach, to the hem of your skirt, lifting it up as his fingers trace your inner thigh. Whimpers leave your mouth as he grins at you, pressing his lips slowly against yours.

"What's up with all the teasing?" you ask, pulling away for a moment, playing with the buckle of his belt, and it opens...accidentally? Oops. Your fingers find their way to the waistband of his boxers, sliding ever so slightly underneath it. As a shaky moan escapes his lips, he laughs quietly, his eyes closed and his head slightly tilted back, mouth staying open. You slide your hand a bit further and his eyebrows furrow as he whimpers, begging for any kind of friction with the desperate sounds leaving his mouth. He drags his hand up your thigh, thumb getting dangerously close to your heat, turning the tables as you're now the one who's desperately trying to hold back the whining.

"Oh so this is how you wanna play?" you smirk as you slide your hand fully in his boxers, placing your fingers firmly around his length as your thumb brushes over the tip. He lets out a loud moan, slapping a hand over his mouth to muffle the beautiful sounds as you stroke him up and down. His head falls back, eyes squeezing shut and his concentration drifting away enough so he drops his other hand down from your thigh, fully at your mercy now.

"You sure you wanna keep doing this here?" you ask as he moans again. "I truly do not give a fuck." he answers with his head still tilted back and eyes squeezed shut. You grin and move your hand faster, as he grabs your shoulders to gain some kind of balance. As if it wouldn't be hard enough to maintain your own balance with how tipsy you are, you now need to hold up the man who's literally towering over you. His head falls forward on your shoulder as your thumb brushes over his tip again.

"I'm not gonna last much longer, liefde..." he lets out a chuckle, but not amused one. More like an 'embarrassed about how strongly he reacts to your touch' one. Proud smile creeps up on your lips as you try to hold the man up while he moans shakily in your ear. "The song isn't that long either." you remind him, and the exciting realisation hits you both that anyone could open the door any second and see this all.

You feel yourself getting more wet by every moan he lets out, every breath you feel against your neck. He presses his mouth on the soft skin of your neck, nibbling as he tries to muffle out his begging whimpers. You work your hand up and down, earning more and more beautiful sounds that get louder by every stroke.

You feel him twitch in your grip, his teeth on your neck making sure there's going to be a mark to remind you of this later. "Don't stop... please liefje, please don't stop," his weak words can be heard repeatedly against your neck as your strokes get faster and faster. His hips thrust up to meet the movement of your hand, chasing the high. The last chorus of the song starts playing in the background and your hand works it's magic on his length, feeling the twitching again.

With a final few strokes you feel your hand being coated by his warm release. High pitched whimpers leave his mouth, turning into breathless chuckles as his forehead remains rested on your shoulder. "Fuck...liefde..." he tries to catch his breath, "you're insane..." he finally manages to mumble, still chuckling, as he lifts his head up from your shoulder to meet your eyes.

You laugh, pulling your hand out of his pants and fixing his belt as the song's final chords fade out. He opens the door, places a soft kiss on your lips and steps out as you walk behind him, wiping your hand to a tissue you found in your purse.

[whitedovebby]

— TLC

Spencer x fem!nurse!reader

TW - Brief mentions of a child vomiting and a blood test?

WC - 1,176 (proofread, but there may still be mistakes).

Genre - Fluff, fluff, fluff! Soft, nurturing Spencer, literally mostly plotless and just a self-indulgent idea that popped into my head, so I decided to write it. Please bear in mind that I haven't written/published anything in a loooong time, and it's my first actual published Spencer fic, so feedback is so so appreciated! If you read it, I hope you enjoy it. I really enjoyed doing this! ♡

(Disclaimer: I know nothing about being a nurse other than what my mother has told me in the past, and she mentioned that the 'easier' days can sometimes be hard, too).

Summary: After a challenging day at work, Spencer gives you a little much-needed care.

---

Fatigue seeps its way into your body, flowing through your muscles in the form of tight aches that linger incessantly between your shoulder blades, across your lower flanks, and all the way down to the soles of your feet. You feel stiff yet heavy, like a dead weight, and Spencer can tell as much as soon as you set foot into your shared apartment.

You’ve just arrived home after clocking off from a gruelling 12-hour ER shift - feeling mentally and physically drained from being rushed off your feet - and in desperate need of some TLC from your boyfriend.

“Welcome home, angel,” Spencer greets, watching you slip your feet out of your plimsolls and hang your jacket on the coat hook. You turn toward him and offer a half-smile, to which he immediately responds with a sympathetic one.

“Rough shift?” He asks.

“You don’t even know how rough,” you reply, dragging your heavy body across the living room to the couch, where Spencer sits, legs folded with a book resting on them. Flopping down beside him, you tip your head back against the backrest and let out a long sigh. “If it wasn’t a kid with a fever puking all over my scrubs, it was a stubborn old guy arguing with his wife over refusing ‘unnecessary’ blood tests.”

While you rant away, Spencer closes his book and sets it on the coffee table, twisting his body to face you fully, leaning his back against the arm of the couch. Your eyes are closed, but you can feel the way his gaze drifts over you, taking you in in all your exhausted glory. He always puts all his attention on you whenever you’ve clearly had a rough day, and every time, it’s as if he’s trying to calculate the best way to ease some of your burdens.

“It wasn’t even like there were any severe cases today, but sometimes the ‘easy’ days are just as hard.”

Your eyes crack open, and you watch as Spencer reaches out to squeeze your shoulder gently, eliciting a slight hum of something between pain and appreciation.

“You’re all tense,” he muses, repeating that same little squeeze, and it’s then that you see the evidence of a thought flashing in his soft, brown eyes. “Take your top off.”

You let out a puzzled laugh when he instructs this out of nowhere. The instruction came quite far out of the left field. For a moment, you wonder if this is his idea of trying to tempt you into something physical, and if that’s the case, his timing couldn’t be worse. You’re sore and tired and gross-feeling. Not to mention absolutely starving. And after a moment’s pause, you start to speak.

“Spence, I’m not really–”

“That’s not what I’m thinking,” he cuts you off before you can even finish what you’d started, almost like he had read your mind. He can read you as well as one of his damn books sometimes. “I want to give you a shoulder rub,” he continues, rubbing his hands together and blowing into his cupped palms, presumably to warm them up. “So, take your top off and turn around. Please.”

You’re silent momentarily, staring at him and studying his face before a soft smile crosses your own. You feel a little foolish for assuming he was trying to get frisky with you when you’ve already made your fatigue as evident as you have. He’s too sweet for that.

With a soft nod and a quiet ‘alright,’ you sit forward and peel your tank top off over your head, setting it down on the empty space on the other side of you. After turning around so that your back faces him, you let your shoulders sag, the black strap of your t-shirt bra sliding down to hang loosely off the side of your arm.

A few short seconds pass, and then you feel Spencer’s nimble fingers brush your skin as he carefully pulls open the clasps of your bra, allowing the two halves to fall open. “This too,” he prompts softly, and you can hear the grin in his voice, making you grin too.

“After a day of saving lives, I think that’s all the excitement you need right now,” he mumbles, dipping his face to kiss the nape of your neck once. A shiver passes through you when his breath fans across your skin, and you smirk at his words.

“Right,” you huff through a giggle, shrugging your bra off, too, leaving it with your tank top. Spencer’s hands curve over your shoulders, beginning a tender yet firm petrissage with his fingers and thumbs. You already feel like you’re melting, his touch adding just the right amount of pressure to your taut muscles, the knots slowly ebbing away.

“Does that feel good, angel?” He asks, feeling you sag under his ministrations, and you merely hum in response while your mind floats away, carried along by this moment of comforting bliss. “You can take that bun out of your hair when I'm done,” he says, “if I’m right in thinking you have a headache, that thing definitely isn’t helping… restricting all that blood flow with how tight you’ve got it. Your scalp must be crying.”

His thoughtful ramblings bring you back to the present with a light laugh. His constant combining of practicalities with his loving gestures warms your heart in an almost sickeningly sweet way. His way of loving you is just so uniquely Spencer, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Whatever you say, Doctor Reid,” you eventually respond, and there’s a playful edge to your voice, to which he responds with an extra little squeeze of your shoulders.

A comfortable silence falls, and you enjoy your boyfriend’s skilled hands as they soothe away some of your aches, but he soon speaks again, sharing with you the plan he’s organised in his head for how the rest of the night will go.

“After this, you can grab a shower… and I’ll cook you up something tasty and filling. Rossi recently gave me another one of his ‘famous Rossi family recipes’–”

A snort forces its way out of your nose at that, Spencer joining in with a chuckle before carrying on as if the concept of him cooking something recommended by Rossi isn’t wholly amusing.

“Then we can get into bed, and… you can get a decent night’s sleep.”

“Sounds exciting,” you remark, but there isn’t an ounce of genuine snark in your tone. In fact, you’re feeling somewhat spoiled in being so well looked after like this, even if you won’t admit it aloud.

“I’d hardly call it ‘saving lives’,” you argue, too stubborn to take his compliment as it is.

“Well, too bad you’re wrong,” Spencer retorts, smiling against your neck where his lips are still pressed. “You’re my little life-saving angel.”

All you can do is grin in response, biting back another whimsical retaliation and instead settling with, "I guess we'll just have to agree to disagree."

"Fine by me. I know I'm right, anyway."

[taxfruad4ever]

If you’re taking requests… How does Shadow react when his SO is sick? It’s been plaguing my mind. I imagine not super well considering him having to take care of Maria and her sickness. Can be head canons or fic. Super protective mode activate!!!!

RAAHHHH I LITERALLY STARTED WRITING SOMETHING LIKE THIS TO POST SOON JUST AS I GOT UR ASK!!!

Warnings: Unbearable amounts of fluff.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Shadow sat in your dimly lit bedroom, the sun just barely dipping below the horizon, casting stunning rays of golden light throughout the room. He perched on the edge of your bed as he stared down at you. His usual stoic expression was tinged with a hint of unease as he watched you struggle with a fever, a bullet of sweat trickling down your forehead and across your cheek. His gaze unwavering as it remained fixated on you, silently calculating the severity of your condition. Every time you would cough or shiver, Shadow would tense up, unconsciously clenching his fists into your sheets.

He knew he should say something, offer some comfort or reassurance, but the words stuck in his throat. Instead, he continued to watch you intently, and he found himself reaching out to gently brush the sweat-dampened hair away from your forehead. The gesture was awkward, almost forced, and he quickly retracted his hand as if the contact burned.

"I can feel you staring at me..." you spoke wearily, fluttering your eyes open, for the first time in hours; warm and tired gaze meeting his.

He didn't respond, only reaching out to grasp your hand, stroking his thumb over your knuckles; his grip firm and caring.

You let out a drained chuckle, closing your eyes again.

"How are you feeling?" he finally asked, the words coming out concerned and soft.

You vaguely waved your hand, scowling a bit as to simply say: "Meh".

Shadow cocked his head to the side, giving a small hum as he sighed drearily; finally pulling his gaze away from you.

There was a long silence that hung in the air, occasionally broken by the sound of you tossing and turning in your bed, or the quiet sound of yours and his shallow breathing.

"Do... you think she would be proud of me?" Shadow asked, now staring at the ground; an unreadable look painted onto his features.

Your feverish mind took a moment to puzzle together who he spoke of, before it clicked; Maria.

You simpered, raising your intertwined hands up to your lips, kissing the back of his hand.

"Of course she would..." you reassured him. You knew he was a rather troubled man— a new worry plaguing his mind each day— but you didn't mind; reassure and love him, you would always do. He was sensitive, caring and sweet at heart, though he would never admit it.

He leaned his head against your shoulder, now fully laying down as he finally let himself relax after a days worth of care taking and stress.

"I think she would be stoked to see you this happy now." You stated, kissing the shell of his ear, before returning to his chest. He let out a small hum of satisfaction as you did.

"Thank you for taking care of me.."

"Of course, my dear..." he mumbled into your hair, pulling you closer.

"But you didn't have to spend an hour looking for my favorite brand of chocolate." You mused, recalling how he had vigorously searched for the chocolate you wanted, even after you had profusely told him it was okay if he got the store brand.

He gave a chuckle, his snout still buried into your hair.

"Oh? Are you complaining?"

You chuckled.

"Of course not, dummy." He chuckled at your strange choice of endearment.

You buried your face into his chest fur. You loved doing this: hearing his heart beating, his deep voice reverberating in your head every time he spoke, and the way his silky fur tickled your nose. It was all perfect. You felt like you were loved and he was loved; you knew where you belonged, and it was in this fond, feverish, golden moment. In his arms.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

I'll prob add some headcanons to this later, but for now, Baiiiiiiiii!!💖💖💖💖

edit: HOLY SHIT THIS GOT 200 NOTES??? HELP??? THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH AAAAAAAA

[pedge-page]

You writing joel be so soft for ellie and sarah 🥺🥺 could you write something where ellie and sarah get sick while reader is on a work trip or something so he’s stuck taking care of two sick toddlers?

Joel Dealing with Fam: Sicks Days

Sarah comes home from kindergarten and caught a cold from the kids, so she's out the next day in bed. and Joel warns Ellie to stay away, but Doctor Ellie is worried for sissy so she keeps her company and plays with her on her bed... only for Ellie to also come down with fever the next day. Joel's carrying a very sweaty and exahusted Ellie, her head rested against his shoulder as he sways with her and tries to cook Sarah breakfast. Sarah who is also too tired and unable to sit up at the dinner table. both with little thermometers in their mouth beeping loudly while the stove is a mess, spilled juice and burnt bacon everywhere (Spoon is at least trying to clean the mess on the floor).

"You need to just put them both in bed. You're gonna get sick, baby," you tell him over the phone.

"I'm a big guy. I'll be fine," he reassures you, patting Ellie on the back as he lays her down on her bed, checking her forehead. Its just as hot as yesterday. He sighs disappointedly.

"Daddy..." Sarah coughs. "Kiss it make better?"

you can still hear it over the phone, and quickly interrupt in his ear: "For the love of God, Joel, don't kiss them--"

But he's already bending down and giving them a fat smooch on the cheek.

Fast foreward a day later: you're barely home, still wearing your work attire as you tuck in Joel, Ellie to his left and Sarah to his right, in your queen bed, all with high fevers and cold compress towels across their foreheads. They're all exhausted, the simultaneous beeping thermometers sticking out their lips go off, reading 100+ each. You shake your head at their sad baggy eyelids, drained color and little coughs stuck in their chests. you tuck the covers up high to their cheeks.

"Told you," you mumble to him.

He grunts, eyes closed and too tired to protest.

the girls instinctually coddle up to him, rubbing their runny noses into his sleeves and sighing contently with their heads resting on his arms.

- - - -

Taglist

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[winchestersisterimaginessss]

Request: Hi! can you make one where sister Winchester has a fever and Sam and Dean give him a cold shower in the bunker and then take care of her?

A/N: I hope you like this one! Requests are open!

Pairings: Sam and Dean x Sister!Reader

You woke up to an aching body and your sheets sticking to you. You yanked them off feeling overwhelmingly hot and noticed you were in a puddle of your own sweat. You felt awful. You knew you needed advil and some water, but as soon as you got up a wave of dizziness hit you. You steadied yourself on your nightstand for a few seconds before feeling okay. You held onto the wall to steady you through the hallway until you stumbled your way into the kitchen.

“Everything alright kid?” Dean asked eyeing you up and down. “I don’t feel good,” you whimpered, feeling worse than the minutes before. You were on your tippy toes reaching for a cup from the cabinet when you felt someone come from behind you. “Go sit down kiddo. I’ll fill you up a glass of water and grab you some medicine.” Dean said while reaching over top of you to grab the glass. You nodded and slugged your way to the couch, laying down.

As soon as your rested your head down, you closed your heavy eyes. You were just so tired and drained. You felt a hand on your forehead and you flinched, opening your eyes. Dean flipped his hand around both sides feeling the warmth of your forehead. “Sam!” He called. “What?” Sam asked walking into the room. “Hey, Y/N/N is defientely coming down with something she’s burning up.” Dean said keeping his hand on your forehead. You peaked up at him as he looked at Sam with concern. He looked down at you when he felt your forehead furrow from looking up at him. His expression softened and he took his hand off your forehead, handing you a glass of water and some medicine. “Hey sweetheart, take this for me okay?” He said softly, as you sat up. You nodded still sweating and now feeling disoriented. You put the pills in your mouth and took a swig of water before feeling weak and handing it back to Dean. Sam came over with a thermometer, handing it to you. “Here, put this under your tongue.” He said as he also felt your forehead. You took it and put it under your tongue, now feeling like you were going to pass out. It beeped and Sam looked at it with disbelief, “104.” He said glancing at Dean. You really didn’t feel good. Just as you felt consciousness start to slip from under you, you jumped up with wild eyes. Your eyes did the thing they always did before you passed out which immediately caught Dean’s attention. “Sam, grab her she’s going to pass out!” Dean shouted, alerting Sam who was already one step ahead, reaching out to grab your arm. “S’ ammy I don’t feel too good.” You mumbled before collapsing into Sam’s chest. “Wow wow hey,” he said holding you up. Dean immediately rushed to grab a bag of ice, “get her to the bathroom we’ve gotta force her temperature down.” He said now rushing to the bathroom with the ice in his hand. He turned on the cold water to the bath and started filling it up with ice. He turned to Sam when he came into the bathroom and took you out of his grip. “Sorry kid,” he whispered as he submerged you in the water. Your eyes shot open, gasping for air and flailing your arms around. Dean grabbed you yanking you up as you cried out, shivering. “I know kid, I know,” he said softly as he pulled you out. Sam rushed out of the bathroom to grab you clothes as Dean grabbed a towel. He wrapped it around your quivering body while still holding you up. You were breathing heavily looking around your surroundings, dazed and confused. Dean noticed you disoriented and unbalanced so he held onto you as he tried to calm you down. “It’s alright kid, you’re alright.” He said, moving your cold wet hair out of your face. “You passed out, your fever was too high and we had to force it down. Or else you would’ve been toast.” He explained to you, sending you a sympathetic look. Your teeth were chattering and all you could think about was how cold you felt. “I- I’m s- so col- cold.” You shuddered as Sam walked back into the bathroom. “Here sweetheart, put some dry clothes on and I’ll make you some soup,” Sam said, putting a fresh set of clothes down on the bathroom counter and sending you a soft smile. He walked out as Dean sat you down on the toilet lid. “You’ll feel better after you get changed alright kiddo? I’ll be out here if you need me.” He said, turning to walk out. He shut the door to give you privacy and you shakily stood up. You got changed into your t shirt, sweatpants and one of Sam’s big sweatshirts you loved to wear. You walked out of the bathroom and cozied yourself up into all of the fabric of the sweatshirt. Dean got up and kissed the side of your head. “Get in bed kiddo we’ll be back up soon.” He said motioning to your bed. You crawled into it and he tucked you in. “Call if you need something sweetheart.” He said as he patted your leg and left your room. You snuggled deeper into your sheets finally done shivering and let sleep overtake you once more.