#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]

.

[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.

[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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[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

[violentdelights-violentendss]

How about BSD men when you're sick with a cold? (Totally not cause i have one rn lmaoo) I love your work btw <3

Thank you sm! And ofc! Hope you like this!!! (same, I was sick this whole week 😞😞 hope you get better soon)

(This is part 1. Part 2 with the rest of the members will come shortly!!!! I decided to slip it so at least one half of it was out…I think I might start doing this in the future to be able to post more frequently! Btw, I have seen all your requests and currently working on them!!!! Please keep requesting! I love every single one of them!)

BSD Men When Reader Is Sick With a Cold (P.1)

In this post: 🌹 Doppo Kunikida, Atsushi Nakajima, Yukichi Fukuzawa, Edogawa Rampo, 🌹

Pairing: Fem!reader/BSDMen

Synopsis; How would the BSD Men act when you have a cold.

Yukichi Fukuzawa

Fukuzawa, being the president of the Armed Detective Agency is a responsible person. The minute he notices you’re feeling sick, he takes care of you so well, he almost rivals Yosano. He makes sure that you take all your medications, constantly checking your temperature, and will not make you lift a single finger. You are his sick princess; you stay in bed and do absolutely nothing. If you ask for anything, he would rush to get it for you. With Fukuzawa’s love and great, responsible care, you overcame your cold very quickly.

“Where is (Y/N)?” His voice cut through the thick fog in your mind, sounding distant and echoing loudly. You winced, peeking open your eyes. Reality felt dreamlike; you saw Fukuzawa walk towards you, the view of your boyfriend slanted, as you were lying on the surface of the table in the conference room. You had hoped to refresh the burning hellfire that crackled in your mind, but with no avail.

“My dear,” Fukuzawa sighed, sitting down next to you. “You should go home.” He chided, pressing a large hand to your forehead. Your elevated temperature made his usually calm face grow worried. “You’re burning…you’re going home.”

You tried to protest, feebly gripping his arm to hold him back, but the worried glance Fukuzawa threw at you, seeing you pale, burning, nothing could convince him to make you stay at work.

You closed your eyes, your illness draining you far too much to remain awake. Every sound echoed in your ears, hurting your already weakened head.

When you blinked your eyes open, you found yourself in your apartment, and only vaguely remembered Atsushi bringing you home. Fukuzawa would have done so himself if he didn’t have a crucial meeting with a politician he could not avoid.

You dragged yourself to bed, too tired to change, only falling in your futon. Morpheus immediately pulled you under, dragging you to the depths of a dreamless sleep.

You opened your eyes suddenly, feeling a presence next to you even through your agitate sleep. Your eyes had to concentrate more than usual to focus on reality, ironing what was blurry, before you noticed the presence was Fukuzawa.

“Shh…I’m here, my love,” he whispered in your ear, adjusting the covers around you to make sure you weren’t exposed to any cold air. You immediately calmed down, snuggling against his chest. “Take this before you sleep,” Fukuzawa whispered, slipping two pills inside your mouth. You swallowed, knowing they were probably medication to reduce your fever.

You conked out right after, vaguely remembering finding it difficult to fall into deep sleep. You only found peace when Fukuzawa wrapped you in his arms, caressing your head.

You woke up the next morning to an empty bed. You sat up, pressing a hand to your forehead. You sighed in relief when you realized your temperature had gone down, but you still felt under the weather, your eyes burning, and your throat itchy. You glanced at Fukuzawa’s empty spot, wondering where he could have gone.

Almost sensing your thoughts, your boyfriend walked inside your room, carrying a mug of delicious warm milk with honey. “Good morning, sweetheart.” He cooed, seeing you sniffle sadly, clearly not happy you were sick. “I made this for you.” He handed the mug to you, making sure you didn’t burn yourself holding it.

“Yukichi, I don’t like being sick.” You whined, leaning against his side when he sat down next to you.

“I know, darling, but you have to rest to get better. And not stoically push through it like you were doing yesterday.” He chided softly, urging you to drink milk. You pouted, knowing he was right.

You couldn’t help but feel sadness crawl on your face, when you realized you wouldn’t be able to spend your few days off having fun with your partner, who you already saw too little of.

Fukuzawa realized, and to try and bring back the sparkle of happiness on your face, even amid a sore threat and runny nose, he leaned down to press a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Would you wish to watch a movie?”

As he had hoped, a smile brightened your face, and you almost jumped up in joy, Fukuzawa’s hand blocking you from doing so, afraid you would topple over sick. “Can we watch a romcom?”

“Whatever you desire, my love.”

The two of you cuddled in bed, using your laptop to watch your favorite romcom. You could have not been happier, snuggling underneath the covers with your perfect boyfriend, and Fukuzawa also enjoyed spending some time with you, peppering a series of kisses on your face every time the characters kissed on scene.

Edogawa Ranpo

Ranpo is…interesting when you are sick. It’s one of the few times he shuts down, and does not know what to do, or how to react. For once, the genius detective feels lost. When he realizes you’re sick, his first reaction is disgust, and worry that you could infect him, and then he freezes when he realizes you, his beloved (Y/N), is sick. Panic infects his body, and he just..crashes. It takes a few seconds for his heart to calm down, and to regain the composure on his face. All of his panic runs behind his face, only visible through his emerald green eyes to whomever knows him very well. The moment he has calmed down, he takes control, even if the fear of messing up and making you even sicker haunts his mind. Ranpo cures you slightly chaotically, forgetting to give you medicine and then remembering late at night, but he tries his best, and succeeds in making you feel better, inevitably being exhausted by the time you are no longer sick. Now it’s your turn to take care of him.

“Where is (Y/N)?” Ranpo asked, sulking at his deck, his lips wrapped around a vanilla lollipop as his green eyes scanned the office, noticing your absence.

“She took a day off.” Kunikida replied, not lifting his gaze from his computer.

“She didn’t tell you?” Dazai asked as he spun around in his chair, accidentally kicking Kunikida’s leg and then rolling away when his partner got mad.

Ranpo shook his head, sucking on his lollipop pensively. “Nope…I wonder why,” he thought aloud. You were his girlfriend, and always told him everything. He didn’t know why you didn’t tell him today that you wouldn’t be going. He knew you knew he preferred when you were in the office, brightening his day by just caressing his hand when you walked by, busy working.

When you were not there, Ranpo usually took the day off with you, doing whatever you had needed to be doing. For a second, Ranpo’s rapid mind jumped to the unrealistic thought that you might be cheating on him, but he quickly threw the idea away, not even considering it.

But the lack of knowledge irked Ranpo, and he didn’t feel like rummaging through his pocket to find his glasses to use Ultra Deduction. Instead, Ranpo tapped on his phone for a few minutes, calling your number.

The wait felt excruciatingly long, and he only focused onto the rhythmic beeping, completely ignoring Kunikida choking Dazai.

“Hello?” You answered, your voice strangely nasally and lower than usual.

“(Y/N)!” Ranpo called sadly, pouting. “Why did you not tell me you were taking a day off? I could come over and cuddle in bed with you,” he whined, throwing the finished lollipop in the bin.

You sighed: you had hoped you could escape telling your adorable boyfriend that you were sick. He always panicked, and exhausted himself while he took care of you, and you didn’t feel like draining his energies for a menial cold. But of course, nothing ever went the way you had intended it to, still feeling a little smugness lift your lips into a smile: Ranpo had noticed your absence almost immediately.

“I’m sick,” you explained. Almost to provide you with ironclad evidence, your throat started itching uncomfortable, and you coughed for a few seconds.

When your words registered in Ranpo’s head, he froze. His eyes went unfocused, and his phone almost slid out of his grasp. An avalanche of thoughts flooded his mind, the most common theme, fear and worry. Extreme fear for you, and worry because he didn’t know how to care for you; both feelings battled in his chest, a conflicting tsunami that only rendered his green eyes duller.

“Ranpo?” You asked, your voice rough after your coughing fit, but the silence on the other end of the line scared you more.

“I’m coming over.” Was the curt reply you got.

“Wait, what? Ranpo, no you’ll get sick — and he hung up.” You sighed, placing the phone back next to you, and waiting for Ranpo to barge in through your door.

It took a good thirty minutes, but your prediction came true. Opening with his copy of the key, Ranpo flew in, his arms decorated by various bags filled with medicines. “I’m here!” He gasped, his chest heaving.

“Ranpo, did you run?!” You croaked, trying to get out of bed and hold Rampo before he inevitably collapsed.

“No, of course not.” He replied, blatantly lying. He gently pushed you back down on the bed, climbing in after you. He emptied out all bags in the center of the bed, and you widened your eyes in shock at the medium sized pile that formed on your duvet.

“Oh my god…that’s enough medicine for a lifetime,” you whispered. You did, however, feel very loved, as you watched Ranpo rummage through the pile, trying to find a specific packet. This man, who hated exercise, had run around multiple pharmacies to try and find one that would make you feel better. Your heart melted into your chest, almost making your tired eyes teary. You gently clasped his hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

Ranpo barely noticed, digging frantically. “Here it is!” He exclaimed victoriously shoving a small, blue box into your hands. “This is the best one for sore throats, apparently.” He said, a proud smile loitering on his face.

You opened it, downing the pills with some water. “Thank you, Ranpo,”

“Am I the best boyfriend or what?”

“You certainly are.”

Ranpo’s smile grew, and his cheeks darkened by a few shades: receiving praise from you was on the same level as receiving praise from the president from him. “Now, they said sleep helps as well, so we should sleep.” Ranpo declared, hurriedly placing all the medications on your bed side table, before dragging himself underneath the covers, and snuggling against you.

You laid your head on his chest, already feeling your throat become less irritated, letting you exhale peacefully. Ranpo fell asleep before you, his rhythmic breathing becoming your lullaby. As felt your eyes go droopy, and your mind quiet down, resembling a calm mountain spring, you could not help but think that you truly had gotten the best boyfriend in the world.

That claim was instantly withdrawn when you were shaken awake at 3 in the morning by a sleep-drunk Ranpo, who suddenly remembered you had to take another medicine in while talking that one. You sighed, but after all, it meant Ranpo truly loved you, and that was more than enough for you.

Doppo Kunikida

Kunikida is a man of rules, and ideals, and he tries to follow his life bound by his self-imposed rules. He has a specific page on his notebook dedicated to the procedure to follow when he, or you, go down with a cold. But his ideals, and rules get thrown down the drain when you actually have a cold. Like Ranpo, Kunikida freezes, but not because he does not know what to do, but because he wants to do everything in his power to make you feel better. Seeing you sick, and coughing makes his heart ache, and is what pushes him out of his brief moment of panic. Kunikida writes down your symptoms in his notebook, and goes out on a hunt to find the best medication. He will then take care of you lovingly, but also strictly, not letting you get out of bed, or miss some medications because you say you feel better. A small part of him will also be blaming himself for allowing you to get sick, even if he can’t protect you from everything. Kunikida will, however, always remain by your side, not caring of the perpetual danger of falling ill as well: he can’t leave you alone when you’re sick. You’ll be wrapped in his arms at all times, and that is one of the best aspects of being taken care of by Kunikida.

Kunikida was typing on his computer, filling a report that, initially, had been Dazai’s. He noticed movement from the corner of his eyes, noticing you slumping in the chair next to his.

“Kunikida,” you called, gently tapping on his desk to get his attention.

“Yes, darling?” He asked, still typing on his computer.

“Do I feel a little warm to you?”

Kunikida looked up from his computer immediately after hearing your words. He instantly stood up, walking towards you. Your health always took priority on his work.

You did look paler, and more tired, Kunikida thought, as he pressed his hands on your forehead. “You’re a little warm,” he sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Unfortunately, I cannot go home with you right now.” Kunikida said, hurriedly looking through his notebook, snapping it closed in anger.

You waved your hand. “Don’t worry, Kuni, I’ll just go home by myself.” You tried standing up, but Kunikida gently pushed you back down on the chair.

“I can’t let you go home alone. You’ll stay here, and I’ll take care of you while I work.” Kunikida declared, picking you up in his arms.

“Darling, I don’t feel that sick…and taking care of me while you work will just exhaust you more than you already are!” You tried protesting, as your boyfriend gently laid you down on the couch in the Armed Detective Agency office.

“Taking care of you will never exhaust me.” Kunikida grumbled, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. He took his jacket draped on the back of his chair and covered you with it, returning to his desk to continue working.

Throughout the day, Kunikida walked over to your half conscious, half sleeping form on the couch, taking your temperature, and bringing you cups of water to drink. Kunikida also gave you various medicines that he had quickly popped out to buy on his break.

Various times you caught him glancing at you with worry, feeling that he was not doing enough to take care of you. You also saw him intensely research which medication to give you, also going as far as calling Yosano (it was her day off) to ask her what she thought would be the best course of action.

Lying on the couch, slipping in out of sleep, you felt enveloped by the warmth of your boyfriend’s love, who took care of you efficiently even while he was working.

You slowly woke a few hours later, noticing that the bright sunlight had been replaced by the lukewarm colors of the sunset, and the agency was empty, only Kunikida remaining, sitting at his desk. His hair shone like golden strands in the light, and his grey eyes resembled pieces of melted starlight.

You pushed yourself up, noticing your fever had gone. Your throat was still itchy, and your nose still clogged, but you felt better, overall. You slipped Kunikida’s jacket on, walking quietly towards him. You leaned over his shoulder, caressing his cheek, your two shadows intertwined on the floor.

Kunikida turned to glance at you, surprised. “Do you feel better, sweetheart?” He asked, turning to face you, immediately pressing his hand to your forehead to check your temperature.

You leaned into his touch, nodding happily. “All thanks to you, my perfect doctor,” you cooed, sliding down in his lap. Kunikida turned a fiery red, looking away.

“(Y/N), this is highly inappropriate!” He squeaked, although his hands tentatively went to wrap around your waist.

“Oh, come on: no one else is here. It’s not like we’re fucking in public.” You joked, panicking when you heard Kunikida choke on his spit. You laughed, gently slapping him on his broad back. “Ah, what should I do with you?” You asked, peppering kisses on his jaw.

“Kiss me properly,” Kunikida said quietly, seemingly having abandoned the war cry of propriety.

You laid your head on his shoulder, admiring his sharp features that were only accentuated by the dying sunlight that slid through the large windows. “I can’t, Kuni, I’ll get you sick.”

Kunikida looked at you in silence for a second, also admiring your face, his eyes zoning in on your lips. You saw the internal struggle reflected clearly on his eyes, a dueling waltz between his love for you and his ideals.

“Oh to hell,” he croaked, before diving down to press a passionate kiss to your lips, even going as far as to slide his tongue inside your mouth.

Your eyes widened in shock, but you quickly responded, threading your hands through his hair. Kunikida slowly pulled back after a few minutes, both of you panting for hair and grasping onto each other. Kunikida turned even redder when he noticed a small string of saliva glittering between the two of you. He pressed his forehead against yours: “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Oh! How cute!” Dazai called suddenly, waltzing into the room.

Kunikida never fainted so fast before in his life.

Atsushi Nakajima

Atsushi would know what to do, probably having to take care of his fellow orphans. But he will do everything with an underlining panic he will try to hide for your sake, but that you will inevitably notice because he’s soaking in sweat, even if it’s winter. It’s because he worries so much; anxiety crawls inside his body, and he almost dies on the spot. But once you reassure him that it’s just a common cold, his heart will stop running a marathon and he will calm down. Atsushi takes care of you with love, as well as diligence, sleeping lightly to make sure you’re sleeping well. He’ll make you take warm baths, helping you get out and in, and will cook you whatever you want.

When Atsushi had waltzed into your shared apartment, excited to take you out on a date, his heart had dropped to his stomach when he saw you bundled up in your futon, trembling.

“A-Atsushi!” You called, your voice nasally. You opened your arms, looking like a scarecrow draped in duvets and covers.

“What happened?” Your sweet jinko boyfriend asked, worry evident in his furrowed brows as he knelt next to you, tucking the covers back around your body to make sure no draft would touch your skin.

“Got a cold from my last mission,” you mumbled, sniffling. “Walking around the countryside drenched in cold, mountain water was not a smart idea.”

“You did what?!” Atsushi stared at you, even more worried because you had walked around for god knows how long shivering in the icy air. You smiled sheepishly. Atsushi sighed, exasperated, pressing one of his hands to your forehead, relieved that you seemed to have only a slight fever. But your shivers were worrying his already panic-stricken heart.

“I’ll make you some soup.” He started getting up, but you grabbed his loose tail and tugged back onto the futon.

“No…warm me up! You’re always so warm!” You whined.

“I’ll do that after I make you the soup, okay, love?” Atsushi asked, gently persuading you to let go of his belt.

You pouted, reluctantly letting go. Your face suddenly brightened. “What if you order pizza!”

“No! That’s not what you need right now!” Atsushi called from the kitchen, scolding you gently. You sighed, dropping back into the covers.

Your caring boyfriend soon walked out of the kitchen, holding a steaming bowl in his hands, his eyes fixated on the quivering soup that danced threateningly close to the edge, teasing to suddenly overflow.

Atsushi placed it down in front of, a sigh of relief rushing out of his lips. You giggled, eyeing the sweat that had accumulated on his forehead out of concentration. You reached down to grab the spoon. You blinked, and the spoon was gone, now tightly held in Atushi’s grasp.

“Absolutely not. I’m feeding you.” He said, deciding to ignore your questioningly raised eyebrow. “And I’m not exaggerating.”

You decided to stay quiet, and simply enjoy the care your boyfriend was enveloping you in, relishing in the joy of being loved. You obediently swallowed down the warm and delicious soup, noticing how it smoothed out the irritation in your throat. “It’s delicious, ‘Sushi,” You said, in between spoonfuls.

Atushi’s cheeks turned red, and he grinned shyly, playing around with the remaining soup in the bowl. “I’m a good cook, aren’t I?” You threw your arms around him, nuzzling your nose against his.

“The best cook.” Atsushi beamed back at you, kissing the tip of your nose as he put the bowl down.

Lazily, you trailed your hand down his chest, feeling his solid muscles underneath. An idea suddenly came to you, and a lazy grin spread on your lips. “Baby, I’m cold.” You whined.Your hand, who had momentarily stopped on his stomach, restarted its journey, slowing sliding down to to his crotch.

Atsushi, who had been resting his head against yours, pulled back to look at you, worry evident in his eyes. “You’re cold…— (Y/N), WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” He gasped in surprise when he felt your warm hand on his dick, his breath getting stuck in his throat.

“Thanking the cook for the delicious dish!”

“A-Absolutely not! You’re sick! No!” He stammered, his eyes wide and panicked, his hand immediately clasping yours and gently pushing you back down in the bed, tucking the covers around you, restricting your movements: Atsushi knew he couldn’t resist you for long, and needed to prevent your hands to linger on his body before he got a hard-on.

“Atsushi! What the fuck?!”

“You need to rest. Doing what you wanted to do is not resting.” Atsushi stumbled and tripped over his words, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. You huffed, rolling your eyes. Atsushi glanced at you, playing with his fingers. “If you’re better tomorrow then maybe…” He quietly trailed off, defeated by the small pout that lingered on your face. You immediately perked up, smirking at him. “B-but only if you feel better!”

“I’ll sleep right away and get all the rest in the world so I feel better immediately!” You giggled, lying comfortably down in bed.

Atsushi sighed, a small smile on his lips, knowing that his heart truly belonged to you. He quickly slipped underneath the covers, holding you in his arms to suppress the shivers that had suddenly returned. You soon fell asleep, and Atsushi stayed awake a few more minutes, making sure you weren’t uncomfortable, before letting himself be pulled to sleep. But not too deep of a slumber: he had to make sure you, his treasure, his princess slept fine throughout the night. He was ready to sacrifice his sleep for that.

[bunniekittiee]

The Lin Kuei brothers with a sick s/o

Bi-Han

He may not exactly show it, but he is really worried for your health.

Like this man is pacing and checking on you every minute.

He just wants you to feel okay, and he hates to see you miserable.

He will force you to be in bed and if you try to argue with him, he will forcefully put you back in bed no matter what.

Also don’t even try to mention how you don’t want to get him sick, he will give you the dirtiest look ever and tell you to shush.

He doesn’t care, he wants to take care of you.

Surprisingly a good cook.

He will make you hot soup and use his powers to somewhat cool it off to a warm temperature so you can eat.

He will make sure you have water, cough drops, tea, any remedies that can help you and your illness.

If your sinuses are plugged, he will gently rub your face to break up the mucus and aid your recovery.

Will give you forehead kisses while you sleep.

If you run a fever, he cuddles with you, and even though he can run cold, he will stack blankets on you.

If your fever breaks and you’re sweating profusely, he will cool you off with his hands.

His powers can def be helpful.

Kuai Liang

Oh this sweetheart loves to take care of you.

He might even notice your illness before you even tell him, and he is rushing you off to bed.

He doesn’t want you to overexert yourself when you need time to recover.

Immediately makes you soup and tea.

If you’re running a high fever and are shivering, he will warm up your body.

His fire powers definitely pay off in this aspect, plus he loves cuddling so it pays off double.

He worries but he knows you will recover, he is very positive about that.

He isn’t worried about getting sick, his immune system is strong.

If your nose is runny, he will wipe away your snot and give you a kiss on your head because he thinks you’re cute.

Even if you look like you rose from the dead, he thinks you’re miserably cute.

He finds it a little funny to see you in such a state, but he loves to take care of you no matter what.

It makes him feel helpful.

Will give you massages to help with body aches and pains.

Brings you lots of tea so the steam can help drain your sinuses if you are stuffy.

Sometimes will heat up water in the bathroom to produce steam so your airways can clear.

He’s very helpful, he wants you to feel better as soon as possible.

Tomas

Feels really bad that you are sick.

When he sees your little feverish face, his heart swells.

He is willing to do anything and everything possible to help you.

Will bring you anything you need and is very quick with it. He doesn’t want to keep you waiting longer than you have to.

Tomas is v good company, he will sit there with you and talk or he will rub your head to alleviate some head tension.

He wants you to know that you have him you can lean on.

He is a big cuddler and will hold you for hours.

Loves it when you fall asleep on him.

Your sinuses were so congested while you were sleeping, you started to drool on him.

He didn’t care, he thought it was really cute even if you found it gross.

Anything you do is cute to him.

Will take you outside to get some fresh air and sun. He believes that this is a good remedy for illness.

If you are running a fever, he will pile blankets on you and wrap you up in them.

You’re like his little burrito.

If you start burning up, he immediately begins to unravel you and will bring you a cold wash cloth to lay on your forehead.

Gives you lots of face kisses. Giggles when he sees your tired smile.

It makes him happy to be helpful and loving to you in this state.

[maeby-cursed]

i just personally believe that izuku midoriya would freak out if his s/o got sick. 

he’s watched his mother carefully throughout his life, hysterics are ingrained in his genes. 

he paces back and forth as you take your own temperature with a thermometer and whips his head around when you confirm it: you have a fever.

a fever.

his face drains of all color, and suddenly he’s gone. you just shake your head, confused but not surprised by your boyfriend’s antics.

he comes back half an hour later, arms filled to the brim with blankets, cushions, two thermoses, his favorite hoodie and a stack of films.

he drops it all by the foot of your bed and you pick up one of the cases.

“dvds? really?” “what if all streaming services shut down all of a sudden?” he asks, frantic, his eyes wide, “you’d have nothing to distract yourself with! it’s not right, i won’t allow it.”

you chuckle softly, too tired to engage in banter.

“whatever you say, ‘zuku.”

he dedicates the next few days to taking care of you devotedly. he visits you after classes – leaving the extra notes he took for you on your desk – and again after training. he makes you chicken soup, after begging and, ultimately, bribing, bakugou to share any tips on broths and other warm foods to make you. he also spends most nights during the week you’re sick in your dorm room.

“you’ll end up catching it, izuku.”

“that just means extra time with my partner, i don’t know why you’re so worried.”

he calls his mom once or twice to make sure he’s doing everything in his power to help you. 

at one point he sets an alarm every thirty minutes to make sure you’re hydrated. it’s a bit smothering but you can’t complain.

he cares, you think after he drops a fourth blanket on top of you, after he calls you seven times in the span of twenty minutes, after he sends all might to check in on you while he’s in class. 

and finally, when you’re healthy again and he begins sneezing, you get to show you care just as much.

[your-girl-mj]

The truth. [42!Miles Morales x Spiderwoman!reader]

summary: He wants the truth, and you can't give it to him.

warning: cursing, mentions of cheating, accusations, arguments. angst (?)

notes: written in 3rd point of view,

created: july 25, 2023

published: july 26, 2023

exhausted, tired, drained. those three words are to describe what [name] is feeling. dragging her legs on the floor of the empty, quiet hallway of her apartment building. her suit hidden inside her (miles') jacket and some loose pants that her boyfriend gifted her.

Miguel gave her a rough mission with two anomalies on the loose in the same dimension. it's a good thing she her battles didn't leave wounds. god, she missed her bed already. the soft sheets, with miles snuggle up to her from behind.

the girl smiled at the thought of the one she loved the dearest and thinking about what he's doing at this time of hour, [1:47 am]. her heart melted at the image of miles sleeping soundly in his bed and how good he looked when his brows were relaxed and not formed into a scowl.

the air paused its way into her lungs when she opened her apartment door and saw the said boyfriend leaning on the couch's back rest, facing the door. as if he knew she would come back at this time of hour.

her grip on the knob tightened, but not too tight. yet her fingers left a dent on the cold metal. "miles! hey, i didn't know you were coming over." [name] beamed warmly at him, acting as if she didn't come home so early in the morning.

miles' stare was hard and unnerving. "where were you?" he asked, tilting his head as if challenging her for the truth. "the last message i sent you was around nine, saying I'll come over, and its one in the fucking morning." he push himself off the couch, approaching his s/o with threatening steps, slowly closing the door behind her. "so... where were you?"

his face was inches from her, and she hates fights. especially fights with miles. "i was working overti—"

"you said you were sick." miles suck his cheek, breathing out his nose, not buying to her another lie.

"i am!" she defended, quickly thinking another excuse when it was clear she was caught in the spotlight. "por eso... de camino aquí, compré medicinas, teroso." she took his arm, softly squeezing it to ease his worried thoughts. remembering about her last excuse to miles, she told him when he asked for a sleepover. [that's why... on my way here, i bought medicines, treasure.]

though, it didn't stop him from going to her apartment. he wanted to take care of her after she told him she had a high fever. with his mom working in the hospital, he knew a little bit of medicines and treatment. but he was met in an empty home.

his eyes narrowed, not fluttering from her touch, yet he made no effort to lean away from it. "i was so worried." his tone almost gone mute, "i came to your window because i thought you were resting, you weren't there." miles couldn't help his voice as it started to weaver, "pensé que estabas en la sala de estar pero no estabas allí. i've even looked the streets for you." he sighed. [I thought you were in the living room, but you weren't there.]

he runs his hand into his face in exhaustion, as [name] stayed in silent with guilt — guilt, that is slowly eating her up for not telling him everything. he needs to know, he deserves to know. but the thought of him causing his life to save hers always goes through her head. once he knows it's his s/o, he'll feel the need to protect her when she is supposedly protecting him.

"miles, I'm sorry for worrying you." 'and for every lie i told you...' the girl utter yet few words are left in her mind, she embraced him. griping his shirt, having a feeling that shit will be going down soon. "i have something important to do and—"

"and what? tell me." he pulled away as much as he wanted to stay in her arms, but he's a little too pissed right now. "tell me where you were. it's been months." [name] felt her heart drop with culpability, miles known for a long time now. his hard stare soon softens, hating how he's acting.

"cariño, sé que me has estado mintiendo, te conozco. dime por favor..." whispered in his soft voice with her hands in his, miles kissed the back of her palms, he feels like begging for the truth now. [I know you've been lying to me, I know you. Tell me please...]

his patience is getting thinner and thinner as days passed. his girl, disappearing with excuses and lies that he didn't point out. but what's a relationship without trust?

her eyes met his, [name] breath out. "miles..."

"all I'm asking is for you to be honest." his hold tighten, already have a thought about what will happen.

"i... can't tell you." her lips pursed, turning for head to the side. he'll die if he knows about her identity. with all her other version in multiverses; their miles as spiderman... left in dust, crying his eyes out, her body in his arms covered in her own blood. what can prevent such a tragic event when their roles are now reversed?

[name] closed her eyes, trying to leave those horrible thoughts, now breath heavily. she saw other versions of miles, they're mostly spider-people, and her fate in their canon event always left shivers. much like her coworker gwen stacy, her canon event made her peter parker died, when it got their roles reverse.

she can not risk it. she can't. she'll break.

"why not?" miles' jaw visibly clenched, his mind is slowly clouded with horrible doubts.

"miles, you need to understand — " she paused, "i just... can't lose you... i can't tell you." she turned her head away, unable to witness the hurt and anger mixed in his face. it's hard to lie to him. it's hard to resist his plead at times. but there are times when it has its limit.

miles stood, back straight. towering over [name], his face held betrayal when she peaked, and she knew where this was about to go. "you're cheating on me, aren't you?" his face holds a scowl, disappointment, distrust, betrayal mixed into an expression.

"what? no!" she was quick to deny, "i would never do that to you." she frown, hurt for being accused by such a thing.

"that explains more than you ever told me." his tone is starting to rise, with her on his tail matching his voice.

"why don't you trust me?!" her hands flown with an exaggerated movement.

"i did! but you keep on disappearing!" they're now head to head. one holding her ground while the other digging deep for the truth. "on dates, hangouts, movie nights, even in the middle of dinner! what is more to not assume?!"

"its was an emergency!" it was easy to tell the neighbours are listening to the argument right now. how can you not? when the couple who are oh-so-lovely are fighting about one of them cheating.

"of course it was!" her s/o's voice laced with sarcasm before it turned into a venom. "not to mention, i can hear you talking to guys on the phone!"

"it was my boss! he needs me for something!" with her unconventional strength at this moment, she accidentally left a crack on the wall when her hand smacked it while explaining. but miles didn't notice. his eyes were on her, and it didn't leave for a split second.

"yeah right, and what about that tall fucking dude with the funky ass hair?!" he pointed on the couch, remembering when he caught the two of them drinking soda and saying he was a friend at work. he believed her, of course he believed her. but right now, he's doubting eveything.

"i told you, hobie was a friend from work!" she defended once again, not telling the full truth. "i invited him in that time because we both needed rest!"

"rest from what exactly?!" miles felt like punching something, anything. horrible images flashing in his mind, he despise it. he deeply despite the thought.

"you don't understand, i'm doing this for you!" she yelled, dropping the subject. knowing if this continued one or both with end up getting hurt. wounded by harsh words.

"¡ay bendito!" he shouted, his hands almost pulling his braids out as he ran his hand on his head. "enough with your bullshit excuses! if it's not true, then what is the truth? tell me." he demanded, infuriated.

— choose your ending:

tell him the truth.

lie for his safety.

this is the first time in a while to write again, but miles keep running in my mind 😩

[miasmaghoul]

Here, have some soft dewther emotional hurt/comfort for reasons that do not at all reflect anything about my current mental state no siree👍

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

It's past midnight when Aether flops onto the common room sofa, exhausted from back to back shifts in the infirmary. It's a night he wishes that his own quintessence would work on himself, that he could wick away the ache in his back and the searing heat behind his eyes. He'd dragged himself here in search of food - Aether can't remember the last thing he ate, or when - but the sight of the couch had forced him to redirect.

So here he sits, alone in the dark common room, staring out the massive windows flanking the fireplace and watching the stars twinkle. He knows he should get up, should find something to put in his stomach so he can at least try to sleep, but his legs weigh a thousand pounds each and the thought of moving is enough to have Aether groaning into the silence surrounding him.

He wishes he were like Rain, like Swiss. That he could just close his eyes and be on his way to dreamland. That he didn't have to deal with the storm in his head, the revolving door of tasks to be done on his next shift. Reviewing the cases he'd handled today; there had been a flu outbreak in the human wing, and Aether stretches his hands while he thinks of every fever he'd soothed, every cough he'd calmed, every bit of suffering he'd pulled from those fragile bodies and let sink into himself.

Ghouls may not be susceptible to human illness, but the power it takes to heal them always leaves him feeling ill. Empty. Hollow.

Aether cracks his knuckles as the memory of one particular Sibling crosses his mind - a young girl, no more than twenty. Pale and shivering, hacking up a lung into the sleeve of her habit while she curled up in the corner of the waiting area. She was the only one who has arrived at the infirmary alone, a newly anointed Sister of Sin who hadn't found her footing yet. Hadn't found her family yet.

Her pain had been some of the worst for Aether to handle. Not because she was sick, there were other Siblings in far worse condition, but because she was alone. Aether could feel it in his bones the moment he touched her hand. An icy wave of anxiety and regret that had washed over every part of him, an ache even Aether couldn't soothe.

It would pass, he'd assured her. Everyone goes through this - the fear, the loneliness, the feeling that you've made a huge mistake by abandoning everything you knew and loved in the name of something new. Something better. Because there are expectations, assumptions, promises made that paint the church in an ideal, rose-colored light that draws in those eager for a place to belong.

It would pass, he'd assured her. It always does. She would find her routine, find Brothers and Sisters eager to take her under their wing. Find comfort in their Papa's sermons, in prayer and worship, as they all do. Eventually, everything would fall into place. She just needed to give it time. To let it happen.

She'd looked much better once her treatment was complete, had thanked him with a hug he could still feel untold hours later, and Aether was glad to see it. Truly.

But that cold pit of loneliness had stuck around long after she'd left the infirmary, a whirlpool of despair still swirling around in his chest. It's happened a few times before, when he's drained like this, but it's unpleasant all the same. Sore, almost. Like a thorn in his heart, digging deeper with every beat.

He should just go to bed. Make his legs work and drag himself down the impossible distance of the hall. Should collapse into his own bed and try to ignore the chill, the ache, the pounding in his head. He'd get to sleep eventually, right? It would be better than this - at least he'd be laying down. He should at least try.

The kitchen light flips on behind him, and Aether's too tired to jolt.

"Aeth?" A sleep-thick voice creeps into his ears, familiar, and Aether's shoulders sag. "What're you doin' in here?"

The soft patter of bare feet follows, and Aether sighs when their owner comes into view.

"Hey, Dew."

"Hey yourself," the little ghoul mumbles, rubbing at tired eyes. He's dressed in one of Aether's beat-up old shirts and a pair of sunflower printed pajama pants that undoubtedly belong to Sunshine. "I could smell you from my room," he says through a yawn, and Aether cringes. "D'you just get back?"

"Yeah," Aether rasps, working immediately to get his scent under control. It's something he always struggles with on nights like this. "Long day."

He crosses his arms over his chest, rolls his neck, and Dew frowns.

"Looks like more than that." Aether hugs himself a little tighter. "Wanna talk about it?"

"It's nothing," Aether huffs, the guilt of having woken Dewdrop enough to have that thorn sinking in further. "Go back to bed, love, I'm fine."

"Pfft," Dew waves a hand, dismissive, "how many times do I have to tell you you're a shitty liar?"

Aether groans, tosses his glasses to the side to dig the heels of his hands into his burning eyes. He hears Dew's tail thump against the area rug, obvious concern that he must be too tired to hide.

"I just...it was a long day," Aether sighs, resting his elbows on his knees and hunching over. "I'll be fine, I'm just...just tired, that's all."

Warm, bony hands come to rest on his shoulders, and it takes everything Aether has not to whimper at how good that simple touch feels.

"Aether," Dew says, low, "look at me."

He doesn't want to. Knows he too exhausted to hide the way the void in his chest will have darkened his eyes, brought out every line on his face. He knows that if he does, Dew will see the hurt. Hurt that isn't his problem, isn't something he needs to worry about. It's not his job.

"C'mon, Aeth," the little ghoul encourages, one hand leaving a shoulder to glide through Aether's thick, unruly hair. Aether does whimper then, can't help it, but silently prays Dew doesn't hear it. "Please?"

There's something so sincere in that one word that Aether can't deny him. He heaves a mighty sigh, leans back into the couch and begrudgingly lets Dew see.

Those copper eyes bore into him like white hot fire, and it only takes two breaths for Dew to understand.

"Oh, Aether," he breathes, cupping his worn face in those incredible hands. Aether sinks into the touch, something he can't quite name caught in the back of his throat. "What can I do?"

Nothing. Everything. Aether has no idea, too scattered and distracted by the icy claws scratching at his rib cage to do more than shake his head and flex his fingers. Dew won't break his gaze, looking down at him with concern knitting his brow and his mouth turned down at the corners. He brings his own hands up to hold Dew's wrists, overcome by the need for...for...

"Could you just -" a hiccup, one he can't help, "just...remind me I'm not alone?"

The words are miserable to say, a request he feels stupid for making and regrets instantly. Wishes he could take them back the second they pass his lips, a flush of embarrassment rushing up his throat when Dew tips his head. When a lock of golden hair that had slipped from his bun floats across his forehead, those gorgeous eyes gone soft around the edges.

But he doesn't have time to take them back, because Dew's already moving. Gently shaking off Aether's trembling grip and moving to straddle him on the couch. Skinny thighs bracketing his own while Dew settles in, leaning forward to get his arms under Aether's wrinkled white coat, looping them around his waist. Scooching closer until they're chest to chest, no more than their clothes to separate them, and then Dew's resting his head on Aether's shoulder.

"Don't worry, starlight," he lilts, soft as Aether's ever heard him. Dew kisses his neck, no more than a chaste peck. "'S long as I'm around, you never have to be alone."

The little ghoul starts to purr, his unnatural heat seeping into Aether's whole being, and Aether shudders. Wraps him up in strong arms and holds on tight, breathing in cedar and burnt cinnamon. Something so distinctly Dew that it overrides the mess in his head, in his heart, and as it does Aether can do nothing but believe him.

"Thank you, firefly," he huffs, voice thready. Something Dew would normally tease him for, but not tonight. He nuzzles closer, and Aether lets his cheek rest against the little ghoul's head. "Thank you."

[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.

[sykokilljoyy]

hello 🤍 i really enjoy ur writing and would like you request a w2s x reader- where they both attend ethan & faiths gender reveal party together and he ends up getting major baby fever and also just very soft, in love, clingy harry. thankyouuuu :)

baby fever - wroetoshaw imagine

request: hello 🤍 i really enjoy ur writing and would like you request a w2s x reader- where they both attend ethan & faiths gender reveal party together and he ends up getting major baby fever and also just very soft, in love, clingy harry. thankyouuuu :) words: 797 warnings: none! a/n: hes actually the sweetest shut up. also thank you for your patience!

TLDR: harry just loves his partner and wants a baby.

Festivities were high, the energy of your friends bubbling through the crowd as you all stood outside, looking on at the beautiful decorations set up for Ethan and Faith’s gender reveal. It had been a special few months, a lot of celebrating and congratulating your friends for their massive milestone in their relationship.

Whilst it was emotional, seeing the man you’d known since you were a teenager, grown up with a beautiful girlfriend and a baby on the way, you couldn’t help but be elated for them.

Feeling a strong arm pull you into his side, your boyfriend, Harry, dragged you from your thoughts.

“You alright?” He muttered to you closely, pint in one hand and the other tucked around your hip.

“Yeah, yeah, I think so,” A sniffle crumbled your entire facade, earning a sympathetic smile from Harry.

“Come here,” He pulled you fully into him, placing a kiss onto your forehead and feeling you bury your head in his chest.

The cameras weren’t on yet, only a few handheld ones capturing Ethan’s friends and family’s bets on the gender of his future child, and so you let yourself have a little cry before the spectacle starts.

“I’m just so happy for them both,” You cried with a smile, a chuckle reverbarating through Harry’s chest.

Pulling you from his warmth, he tenderly put his hands on your shoulders, looking you in the eye, a soft smile on his lips, “I know, love, now come on, lets get you a drink and go see them.”

Wiping your tears, making sure not to smudge any of the makeup you had spent an hour on in the morning, you grabbed Harry’s outstretched hand and followed him through the crowd of Ethan’s loved ones.

The rest of the afternoon was filled with talking, laughing, singing and dancing as friends and family managed to catch up and celebrate before the big reveal. Both of you had been dragged from couple to couple, mums and siblings, cousins, distant friends and people you’d never even heard of before. As tiring as it was, the excitement still hadn’t died down.

It was Harry that surprised you most. Usually, these bustling social events would drain him until he was empty. He’d be distant and sensitive, usually a drink in hand. Today was different, however.

Not once had he left your side, his tone giddy and exciteable as though you’d only arrived moments before. Clingier than usual, his hand was slotted comfortably around your waist and hadn’t budged once. You pinned his flushed excitement down to happiness for his friend’s announcement, but something about the elated grin on his face whenever he introduced you as his girlfriend had your heart leaping from your chest.

“Yeah, I think it’s gonna be a girl!” You smiled at the camera pointed towards you, bright pink badge pinned to your jacket.

“I’m putting £250 on boy, so it better be one,” Harry laughed towards the lens, his tone playful and light, before smiling at the cameraman.

“Perfect, got it, thanks guys! Enjoy the afternoon.” With that, the cameraman walked onto another, gathering bets for the intro.

Nonchalantly, Harry looped his shoulder around you, taking a sip from his drink, “I can’t wait for us to throw something like this one day.”

Looking up at him, you grinned, “A gender reveal, or a really extravagant bet?”

“A gender reveal, you know. Our future kid is only gonna get the best.”

Shocked, you choked slightly on the drink you were sipping, halting your walk, “What?”

Stopping in front of you, Harry turned to you, confused, “What? You don’t want that?”

A slight sinking feeling reached his stomach, and you could see as his brow fell that his nerves crept in, “Of course I do, you know I do! I’ve just never really heard you bring it up, Harry.”

“I know I don’t talk about it much, but I love you, a lot, and I can’t wait for the day we have a little Harry running around, you know,” His words were soft, almost soft enough to distract you from how sheepish and nervous the man looked in front of you.

“Oh, come here,” You spoke, the warmth of his words hitting you in the chest, matching his flushed cheeks, you pulled him towards you. Though usually his hugs were gentle, as though you would break in his arms, this embrace he held you tight and flush against him.

“If this wasn’t Ethan’s big day, I swear I would propose right this second,” Harry mumbled into your hair, and you pulled back, about to speak when he continued, “But just know, I’m gonna marry you one day, Y/N, I promise.”

“I love you, Harry,” You whispered, the words delicate on your tongue.

“I love you, Y/N,” A kiss met your lips, sweet and special, as though the whole world had turned their backs, as thought it was only you.