#waiting for that hair transplant babe

[kucherovv]

nikita kucherov has arrived at the nhl all-star game red carpet!!!!!

[ateriblewriter]

Not Like This {2} (q.h)

a/n: im sorry. i dont feel like this is my greatest. prove me wrong. please let me know if y’all want another part. i have maybe 2 more parts.

warnings: sad. sickness. possible looming death.

Enjoy!

part1 part3

“There’s not much more we can do right now. It’s a waiting game. We always knew there was a possibility this day would come Quinn.” The doctor informed Quinn that the inevitable was coming sooner rather than later. Dr. Pete had been there with the couple through this whole ordeal that started just before baby Theo was born.

A month before baby Theo was born Y/N had a cold. Or what she had thought was the cold. After a week of coughing and fatigue, her heart would start rapiding racing with a constant pain in her chest. After all the tests and scans that had been ordered Y/N had been diagnosed with a heart condition that should have cleared up weeks after the baby had been born.

But of course nothing was ever that easy in life.

“What about that transplant you mentioned last time we were here? Is that still an option?” Quinn ran his fingers through his hair. This couldn’t be happening, not yet at least.

Looking through the window of your room, he watched Y/N holding a giggling Theo on your lap, the most beautiful smile dancing around her face. Quinn hated how fast everything was coming to an end. He needed his family, Theo was going to need his mother. He had to have more time with her.

“We talked about this at the last appointment. Y/N isn’t exactly at the top of the list. If we would be able to get our hands on a viable heart, with how weak her body is there is no telling if it would even actually take.” The doctor reminded him of the meeting they had a couple of months ago.

“My heart is getting worse isn't it?” Y/N asked her boyfriend when he entered the room. Quinn had just gotten done speaking with the doctor again, about their options to slow the damage to being done to it.

“The medication is working anymore, and they don't know if your body would withstand the open heart surgery that you would need for a transplant.” Quinn wanted to hit something. He had all this anger built up inside him and he needed a release. If he was anywhere but here he would hesitate to take something out.

Y/N tried not to get worked up in her current state. Y/N weakly raised her hand to cover her cough that sounded pretty bad, but that was normal for her condition. Once the small fit was over Y/N tried speaking again.

“I just want to go home, I don’t want to be here. Please Quinn. I. I.” Y/N wheezed, breathing heavily. Quinn grabbed the baby out of its mother’s arms. Y/N was struggling. He hated watching her like this. But how are you supposed to react when you’re dying?

Looking anywhere other than at his girlfriend in bed, Quinn noticed the time was getting closer to Theo’s naptime. He grabbed a bottle to feed to the child and sat on the opposite side of the bed. He knew what she was asking. He also knew it was going to spring her from this joint. “Maybe we could visit Michigan, get the gang together one last time.”

“Babe, you need to stay here. What if a heart becomes available. What if.” Quinn looked Y/N up and down in her sweaty state. He didn’t like this. They were supposed to have more time. She was supposed to be there for his hockey career, and when Theo took his first steps on the ice. They were supposed to get married one day, have more kids, and grow old together.

“Be realistic. Someone is going to be dying and giving me their heart anytime soon. Quinny I’m going to be the one dying” Y/N cut him off, her breathing even more ragged as she was still pretty worked up. Her chest heaving up and down at a rapid pace, trying to calm herself down.

“Hey, hey, hey. Breathe.” Quinn held Theo in one arm and ran his other hand up and down Y/N’s back trying to soothe her with another coughing fit over taking her. This time a pink colored flem made its way up.

“I don’t want to die here. Quinny please.” Her voice was so quiet he almost didn’t hear her as the tears streamed down her face. He wasn’t the one with a heart disease, but watching the one he loved the most breakdown broke his heart.

Any treatment they tried now was most likely not going to work and maybe it was best if they just went home. With it being the middle of the hockey season, Quinn was positive that he couldn’t get all their friends to Vancouver much less Michigan. It would be an impossible feat. But for you he would do everything in his power to get you what you wanted.

“Alright, Babe. I’m going to go talk to someone about getting you released.” Quinn got off the bed and walked over you. He kissed the top of your sweaty forehead. “I don’t think it’s the best to travel right now but maybe they can come here. I’ll make some calls to my family and your brother. Maybe some of the guys can come out.”

please let me know what y’all think. i’d love to hear any thoughts, comments, or complaints.

[spicy-picklez]

After reading “I can’t lose you” btw beautifully written! Send all my love to you. 🤍

Think about how cute she would be if Reader would be pregnant over the pregnancy and delivery. In an instant the kitchen scene in my head.

Hey Anon!

I’m so glad you liked it. Apologies for this taking so long, I was out at a skid meet on Friday night and now my sleeping is shot. 😂 Thank you for your request, I hope you like it!

-Picklez

———————————————————

Your Little Family

Includes:

Childbirth

Characters:

Miranda Hilmarson x fem!wife!reader

Summary:

After a long but incredible 9 months, it’s time for your son to be born.

Word Count:

3k

———————————————————

———————————————————

“Your mommies love you very much, my darling boy. We can’t wait to meet you. I can’t wait to teach you how to get all the attractive boys or girls. I mean look at me, I have your mother as a wife and I’ll be honest…” Miranda excitedly peppers kisses on your belly as she kneels between your legs in front of the couch. She leans forwards to continue her next sentence. “I still don’t know how I get to call her mine everyday.” She whispers, a gentle chuckle escaping you as you run your hand through her hair. “I think the same thing every day, my love. You’re way too good to me.” You grin as she comes up to place a gentle kiss on your lips. This entire IVF journey has been so incredible, Miranda has been so excited throughout the past 9 months, you still remember the day when you decided to expand your family.

A loud squeal escapes you as a wall of water crashes over your body. “Babe!” Miranda can’t stop the uncontrollable laughter escaping her as you gasp in shock. Grinning, you reciprocate the splash, starting the ultimate Water Wars as the salty waves gently lap around your waist. The back and forth splashing continues, gasps, laughs, and squeals escaping the two of you as the sun shines down over the crowded beach. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I surrender!” She laughs, another wall of water cascading over her body. You grin as she pulls you into her body. Your hand placing itself on her chest as she grins back down at you. She would be an amazing mum. You can’t stop the thought of your gorgeous wife running around with the kids in the backyard, jumping into leaf piles with them in autumn. “Baby…” You start, as she signals for you to continue. “Remember when we had the conversation on our first date when you said you wanted kids?” She nods, her body full of excitement- are you finally going to ask? “Well, I think I’m ready. I love you, Miranda Hilmarson and I want to start a family with you.” Joy lights up her features as she brings her lips to yours, your hand sneaking up behind her head to pull her close. Her hands wrap around your waist as excitement flows through both of your veins.

Or the day you found out the IVF transplant was successful.

Miranda’s arms wrap around your waist, her chin resting on your shoulder as a cold flush of nerves shoots through both of your bodies. The pregnancy test lies on the smooth marble sink in front of you as the two of you wait in anticipation in the bathroom. She turns off the timer on her watch which had started beeping. With shaking hands, you pick up the test, an excited scream leaving your lips as you see the two lines. A giddy laugh escapes her as you turn around pulling her into a hug, your faces bright with joy. “We’re pregnant!”

A fond, reminiscent smile is on your face as you look at Miranda who had knelt back in front of you and is now going on about winter. It’s her favourite season, she loves going out in the snow. You can’t help but grin as you picture her out tobogganing with your son. The snowball fights and snowmen building competitions that would entertain you for hours. A gasp leaves your lips as your lower back aches. A heavy pressure settles in your pelvis as you feel your abdomen contract. “Babe?” She looks up at you, concern in her eyes as you lean forward, trying to readjust. Lifting your head up, you grimace. Excitement, fear, and pain shoot through your veins as you look at her. “It’s happening… I think I’m in labour.”

Her eyes widen as she looks at you. “Are you sure? It’s not Braxton Hicks again?” You shake your head, one hand over your protruding bump, the other forcefully grasping at the couch. “No, it’s the real thing. This doesn’t feel like the other times.” A grin pulls at her face as she pulls out her phone to start timing your contractions. The pain subsides and you let out a sigh of relief. A soft popping sensation comes from your uterus and you feel a gush of fluid escape you. Miranda’s grin grows brighter as she sees it, as does yours. “It’s definitely labour.” Adrenaline and excitement flows through both of your veins as she grabs a spare change of clothes to get into.

Helping you get changed, she leads you over to the edge of the couch again as her hands begin to massage your lower back. She’d spent an entire day learning how to give a back massage for this. As her hands rub over your lower back, you can’t help but let out a relieved moan. “I love you.” You mumble, resting your head back on her shoulder. Pressing a kiss to your forehead, she grins. “I love you too, you’re doing amazing, my love.” Your hand flies back to grip onto her shoulder as another contraction hits, your teeth gritting together as a suppressed groan of pain escapes your lips.

Placing kisses to your head, Miranda’s hands wrap around your waist to lift up your baby bump. Most of the pressure on your lower back dies down as she does this. You close your eyes, sighing relievedly. As the pain dies down again, she checks her phone. “It was 7 minutes between the last contraction and this one lasted 40 seconds.” You groan upon earning this, exhausted tears forming in your eyes. “You’re doing amazing, my love. I’m so proud of you. We’re going to have a family. You, me and our son.” You can hear the excitement in her voice and you can’t help but chuckle.

“You’re going to be the best mum to our little boy, darling. I just wish you could say you want a child and then you get a child. This whole pregnancy thing hurts.” She laughs upon hearing your words. “I know my darling. You’re handling it incredibly. We just gotta wait a bit before we can go to the hospital and get the epidural, if you want it.” You had originally said no epidural, you wanted to experience having a child in its most pure form but now? You’re definitely considering it.

A few hours later, you were finally in active labour. You’d been having contractions lasting between a minute to a minute and a half every five minutes for just over an hour. You’re sure that you look absolutely atrocious. You can feel your hair damp with sweat as Miranda slowly leads you out to the car, her hand rubbing your lower back. Showering you with kisses and compliments, she opens up your door, placing a pillow under your lower back as you get into the car. Placing a kiss on your forehead, she gives your hand a comforting squeeze. Closing your eyes, you focus on your breathing, trying to find even a second of relief from the now agonising pain. Miranda’s knuckles whiten as her grip on the steering wheel tightens, her free hand comfortingly squeezing your thigh. Laboured breathing escapes you as another contraction hits.

The short seven minute drive to the hospital felt like it took hours, no position is comfortable anymore. She can’t help but grin as she pulls up to the birthing unit of the hospital, walking over to your door to help you get out. Groaning in pain, you take her hand and slowly raise yourself to your aching legs. Locking the car, her arm wraps comfortingly around your waist, helping you stand as you slowly make your way into the building. You were accepted into a room rather quickly and before you knew it you were in a hospital birthing gown on the bed. Your hand clasped in hers, she places a wet flannel on your forehead, brushing back your dishevelled hair from your face. It was getting harder and harder to mask the pain, what were once suppressed groans are now loud, agonising screams as your contractions begin to last longer and come more often. You’re sure you’ve dislocated every knuckle in her hand but if you did, she didn’t seem to care. Her thumb strokes over the back of your hand gently, as she smiles lovingly at you.

“I love you so much my darling. You are so incredibly strong, you’re handling this like a goddamn beast.” She says, placing a gentle kiss to your cheek. A young midwife enters the room, a clipboard clutched to her chest. “Hi Mrs Hilmarson. I’m Stella, I’m going to be your midwife tonight. I understand you’ve been timing your contractions?” She smiles comfortingly at you as you nod. “They’re now 4 minutes apart, lasting for around a minute and a half.” Miranda says as a loud scream escapes you, agonising pain throbbing through your lower abdomen. “You’re doing really well Y/N, I just need to check how dilated you are, we just want to get an estimate on when to call the rest of the team in.” You aggressively nod, trying to distract yourself from the pain as you open up your legs as she walks over to the sink to wash her hands.

Coming back over to you, she bends down to get easy access to you. “Alright, Y/N. I’m just going to check how dilated you are. It will hurt a little bit, but I will try to be quick, ok?” You nod. “Go ahead, my pain will most definitely be worse actually pushing him out.” You say through gritted teeth, your free hand digging into the bed as Stella slips three fingers inside you. The pain grows more intense with each finger she adds. She nods before gently pulling her fingers out. “Not long now Mrs Hilmarson, you’re about 8cm dilated. You’re doing so well. Did either of you need anything?”

With heavy breathing, you nod. “An epidural… please.” Your face is contorted with pain as you say this. Miranda gives your hand a comforting squeeze as Stella nods. “Of course Y/N, I’ll get that arranged for you.” She gives you a soft smile before exiting the room. You groan as tears re-emerge in your eyes. “I love him but my fucking god I need him to get the fuck out of me.” A solitary tear falls down your cheek as you say this as Miranda’s thumb darts out to catch it on your skin. “I know baby, but you need to be 10cm before you can push. You’re doing so well and I’m so fucking proud of you, my love. The epidural should help take the edge off and I’ll be here. I’m not leaving you.” She places a kiss on your cheek as she says this, a sympathetic smile pulling at her lips.

It was about an hour later before Stella returned, a middle aged man at her side. “Hi Y/N, I’m Mark, I’m an anaesthetist. I understand that you were wanting an epidural?” He says, coming over to your side as you nod. You try not to look at the needle but curiosity gets the better of you. Your eyes widen as you see the 8cm needle and small tube soon to be in your back. Miranda’s hand squeezes yours, she saw it too and was now looking in any other direction. Taking a deep breath, you lean forward. “Alright Y/N, you may feel a sharp pinch. Just focus on your breathing, I’ll be quick.” He says calmly, placing his hand on your back. Closing your eyes, you tense up as a sharp pressure shoots through your spine. “Good job, I’m just inserting the catheter now. Keep breathing, you’re doing amazing Mrs Hilmarson.”

Your hand tightens its grip around Miranda’s as you feel the small tube being inserted. “You’re doing amazing, love. I’m so proud of you.” She whispers and you nod, a pained smile on your face. “I love you.”

“Alright, there we go. It should start to work in around 15 minutes. I wish you the best of luck.” Mark says, stepping away from you a reassuring smile on his face. You nod. “Thank you.” You say as he leaves the room. Stella steps out of the corner she’d put herself in while you got the epidural. “I’m just going to check your dilation again, Mrs Hilmarson.” She says as you nod, you seem to be doing a lot of nodding today. It’s the only thing your brain can manage to do correctly through all the pain. Stella’s grin is evident as she steps away from you. “I think it’s time to call the team in. You’re at just over 9cm, it looks like your labours progressing rather quickly which is good. It means it’ll be over faster.”

An excited squeal escapes Miranda, a grin evident on her face as she squeezes your hand. “We’re going to be parents.” You can’t help the wide smile on your face despite the pain. Adrenaline, fear, exhaustion, and excitement. These feelings flood your veins as you look up at your wife who’s proudly looking down at you with love in her eyes. “I’m so fucking exhausted, and in so much pain. I don’t even know if I can push.” You laugh, causing a chuckle from her. She brings her lips to yours, your hand still clasped tightly in hers. “I’ll be here every step of the way, my love. You have got this, I know you do.”

By the time Stella returns with your team, Miranda was helping you slowly around the room, trying to relieve the insane pressure throughout your body. It wasn’t entirely painless but the epidural was indeed working wonders. “Y/N, this is Kate and Riley. They’ll be the ones keeping an eye on your baby during birth. Of course, you’ve met Dayno, your nurse. He’ll be here to keep an eye on you and I’ll be the one helping you have your son. They’ll just be setting up everything for now, I just need to check your dilation again.” She points to each of them in turn as she introduces them. “Jesus Christ, are all of them going to be looking at my cooch?” You can’t help but think as you see them, giving a pained smile as you get back onto the bed for Stella to check you. Miranda’s eyes shine with pride and care as she gives you a gentle smile. “It’s happening!” Excitement rings through her voice as she looks down at you. Tears form in your eyes again as you chuckle. “Ok Mrs Hilmarson, you’re fully dilated, it’s time to push. Are you two ready to be mums?”

You didn’t have time to reply as a contraction crashed down on you. Your hand desperately grasping at Miranda’s, a pained scream escapes you as you push. Her hand buckles as you accidentally dig your nails into her, too oblivious by the pain to notice. “That’s it, my love. Keep pushing.” She whispers, her hand brushing back the sweaty hairs that were stuck to your forehead. “Good job Y/N, just push again when you’re ready.” You were exhausted, having been in pain for hours. Every muscle in your body was screaming for help. Another scream falls off your lips as you push. Miranda’s free hand is gently rubbing your shoulder as you sit forward, your abdomen clenching. “He’s crowning! There’s his head, one more push Y/N.”

“One more push, my darling. You’re so incredible, one more push.” Miranda’s eyes glisten with pure love and admiration as she looks at you. Your scream fills up the room, tears escaping you as you push for the final time. Your body had nothing else left to give, absolutely exhausted beyond comprehension as you feel the pressure in your body disappear, replaced only by a burning pain around your vagina. Silence falls before a higher-pitched scream fills the room. Miranda’s own tears start falling, a grin of disbelief on her face as she sees your son. Stella quickly lifts him up, taking off the top of your hospital gown so she can place him on your chest.

Silent sobs escape you, an exhausted but ecstatic grin on your face as you gently place your hands on your son. Miranda’s hand, now bleeding from your nails gripping into her, places itself on top of yours. She gently leans down, giving you a loving kiss before gently kissing the top of your son’s head. “Congratulations Hilmarsons. We just need to clean him up and double check everything’s ok with him and then you’ll get him straight back.” Kate says, her voice soft as a proud smile grows on her face. You nod, gently lifting him up to pass to her. Miranda’s face was bright, emotion lighting up her features as she wraps her arms around you lovingly, her eyes still not leaving your son.

“So do you have a name in mind?” Dayno asks as he wipes your chest clear from blood and amniotic fluid. You give a soft smile, looking up at Miranda. “Actually yeah… Asher Blake Hilmarsson.” She grins, a single silent sob escaping her as she hears his middle name. Blake was her childhood best friend who unfortunately died in a car crash when he was 18. Both you and Miranda decided on Asher as his first name but you kept his middle name a secret from her. “I love you.” She whispers, afraid her voice would break if she spoke any louder.

“A stunning name for your stunning boy.” Kate says as she returns to your side, Miranda, already reaching out for Asher. You smile proudly as you watch your wife carefully rocking your son with an ecstatic grin on her face. Your little family.

———————————————————

[thefauxsport]

Nick bosa may age badly lol. Especially when he’s old the big muscles and the bulk will turn into fatness unless he keeps up with it. He’s going to look like a typical Italian uncle lol. Plus he needs to start getting on a hair growth or transplant because it looks like it’s thinning out

I was thinking that but didn't want the Bosa Babes to come for me. Hair thinning is typical in sports because of the caps and helmets.

I'm waiting for him to get that weird belly bloat you see body builders get

[augustinewrites]

a sprained heart (pt 2)

— a/n: the response to the first part was so heartwarming! thank you everyone!! if you haven't already, read it here!

“Hey,” you greet a few of the nurses occupying the desk. “I was paged down to the ER. What’s the situation?”

You were about to dig into a well-deserved lunch when they’d called your name on the intercom. It wasn’t uncommon to have your break interrupted while on call, and you never minded, but your stomach rumbles loudly as you survey the floor.

It’s nowhere near full, only a handful of beds occupied by patients with non life-threatening injuries, all being seen to by a doctor or nurse.

A good day (a debatable but apt term) to be on the trauma rotation, in your opinion. A day of stitches and tongue depressors and the occasional consult.

Which brings you back to your question. Why were you needed here?

“There’s a man,” the nurse, your friend Maki, starts carefully. (You think her lips twitch upwards, a fact you normally wouldn’t be aware of, but smiles from the ER staff are rare.) “He was…mugged.”

“Alright,” you nod slowly. You glance around, curious as to how you might have missed him. “Where is he? Is he injured?”

“No, he’s okay, but something of his was stolen.”

Okay, she’s definitely smiling now, chewing on the bottom of her lip to try and hide it. It’s not working, and only makes you suspicious. “Well, if he’s not injured, then it sounds like we should call the police.”

You’re about to reach over the desk for the phone, but Maki blocks you. “That’s— not necessary!”

“You just said that something of his was stolen.”

She’s abandoned trying to hide her smile now. “The thing that was stolen…was his heart.”

You blink. “Wait, someone stole a heart? Was it a transplant heart or something? I wasn’t aware of any such procedures on the OR schedule today, that doesn’t make any sen—”

“It was you!”

A muffled, familiar voice booms behind you, making you do a full body flinch before whirling around. You do so just in time to see Atsumu throw open the wide double doors.

Everything suddenly makes complete sense.

“Ya stole my heart.”

There it is.

“Tsumu?”

“Hey.” He looks like he’d run here, chest heaving, hair unruly and windswept, a bead of sweat trailing down the side of his neck. But he’s beaming at you, eyes bright and hands clutching a small bundle of sunflowers.

“Hi,” you can’t help but smile, suddenly feeling dazed when he loops an arm around your waist, pushing the flowers into your hand and dropping a light kiss to your temple before pulling away. “Thank you! What are you doing here, though? I thought we were getting dinner tonight?”

"Ah, just got somethin' I wanted to tell ya." There’s something mischievous tucked into the corner of his grin, it simultaneously worries and excites you. “Two months ago I limped into this hospital a broken man.”

You roll your eyes. “It was just a sprain—”

He ignores you, hands clasped behind his back as he not only addresses you, but the entire ER. “Then I met this incredibly hot doctor, who, as cliche as it sounds, put me back together again. And babe, even though ya weren’t the one who wrapped that compression bandage around my stinky ankle—” He pauses to fix his gaze on you.

“—ya did touch my foot. And…that was weirdly intimate, but I really liked it.”

“The intimacy part, right?” You check, face burning when Maki shoots you a look over her monitor. “Not…the foot part?”

His silence hangs in the air for a long moment.

“Oh— oh my god,” you sputter, waving your hands as if this moment were smoke and you could make it disappear. “Miya Atsumu—”

“I was kidding! Of course I was kidding!” He chuckles, and you swear that the room breathes a collective sigh of relief.

(Your stomach briefly drops when he winks.)

“Anyway! On that fateful day in which I woke up late, sprained my ankle, ‘n scarred Omi with the questions I asked Siri about kinks that I…may or may not have discovered, this also happened.” He pats the left side of his chest.

“Ya stole my heart, ya dirty criminal. Even though ya were mean and gave me a fake number and said that you’d sell my autograph on eBay, but hey! We’ve gone on 19 and a half dates, made it to second base, and now I know that I’m a masochist with a slight— uh, intimacy fetish.”

His grin turns bashful, a hand coming up to rub the back of his neck as the blush on his face deepens. “I guess what I want to say is...I really really like you, and…I was wonderin’ if you’d allow me the honour of being yer boyfriend.”

“Tsumu…” you sigh, (again, along with the entirety of the ER) your own heart fluttering between your ribs. The arrhythmia had concerned you, the first time you’d experienced it. It was odd, irregular, something you’d never experienced before.

When you’d told your friend what you’d been experiencing and asked for a quick check-up, she’d just laughed, then asked if you were seeing someone.

You’re a doctor, listening to the heart is one of the first things you’re trained to do. The ideal heartbeat is strong, steady, constant. Lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub.

Emotions, you’ve learned, elicit physiological responses that can alter it. Make it feel like there are butterflies in your chest. It’s an autonomic reflex. Like…how pupils dilate and cheeks flush.

And when you look at Atsumu, who’d tried to flash you his six-pack the first time you’d met, asked for your number, and come back to bug you for a date two weeks later, you experience all of it. The butterflies, the dilated pupils, the flushed cheeks.

You're a doctor. You're trained to recognize physiological responses and what they mean.

So you take a few steps forward, draping your arms around his shoulders and getting up on the tips of your toes. Smiling, you pull him into a long, deep kiss. One that makes you dizzy and light-headed. The sounds of cheers and clapping hardly faze either of you, Atsumu gripping your waist to pull your body closer.

You’re kissing the best setter in all of Japan.

He rests his forehead against yours when you finally pull away, quiet breaths intermingling.

“I really really like you too, and I would love for you to be my boyfriend,” you tell him softly. “But no foot stuff, okay?”

“Sweetheart, yer killin’ me,” Atsumu whines, hiding his face in your neck.

—

“So yer an actual doctor? With a real degree and real medical license and everything?”

You take a sip of your drink, eyeing Osamu curiously. “Yes, and the fact that you have to ask is concerning.”

“Oh, I wasn’t askin’ to be rude or anything,” Osamu chuckles quietly, shifting in his seat. “To you, at least. It’s just— how did you end up with…that?” He points to the sliding door of Atsumu’s apartment, where your boyfriend sits with Bokuto and Hinata on the deck. The three grown men are currently competing to see who can stuff the most onigiri into their mouths.

“I wonder the same thing,” Sakusa mutters next to you, looking on in disgust when an ugly mixture of rice and tuna is revealed by their open-mouthed chewing. “That man is a freak of nature.”

“That man,” you remind them (and yourself), “currently holds the title of GQ Japan’s ‘Athlete of the Year.’”

“Jesus,” Osamu grimaces. “These really are weird times.”

“Okay, Mr. ‘I have a Michelin star for making rice balls,’” you snort, throwing a piece of popcorn at him. “Just admit that you’re proud of him. He always tells me how proud he is of you.”

The door slides open, Atsumu huffing as he steps inside, sticking his tongue out at his twin. “Stupid ‘Samu’s just annoyed, ‘cause now that I have a girlfriend, Ma keeps askin’ when he’s gonna get one too.”

“I told ya I’m seein’ someone! But I’m—”

“‘Married to the restaurant.’” Atsumu mocks, doing his best impression of his twin. “That’s well and great, but ya can’t put a grandchild into a Michelin star. Why do ya only have one, anyway? Your rice balls not good enough for five?”

Well, it seems you'd shot yourself in the foot.

Osamu’s chair scrapes against the floor as he shoots out of his seat, murder in his eyes as he glares at his twin. “Get over here, ya scrub!”

Atsumu takes off further into the apartment, laughing as his brother chases him. “No!”

“You know,” Sakusa hums beside you, taking a swig of his beer. “If you stick around, that’s gonna be your mess to deal with on every holiday, every birthday, every get together.”

You both watch as Osamu tackles your boyfriend to the ground, both of them screaming incoherently as they swat at each other. Atsumu yells your name, begging you to please toss him your scalpel. Only to whine when you remind him that, no, just because you’re a doctor, you don’t carry surgical instruments around in your purse.

It’s ridiculous, really, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

—

BONUS

With his arms wrapped around your torso and a leg hooked around yours, Atsumu snuggles into your chest. He’s still tipsy, but had dragged you into his bed the moment his eyes started drooping, clinging to you tightly to prevent your escape. “Baby?”

“Hm?” You hum, scratching lightly at his scalp.

“Would ya still like me even if I had a restaurant with only one star like ‘Samu?”

“It’s one Michelin star, not a one-star rating on yelp,” you tell him, trying to give his brother some credit. “But the answer is yes, ‘Tsumu. I’d like you even if you had no stars, and the only thing you served was rice.”

part 3

[ri-ahhh]

rockin’ around

because my family isn’t doing anything Christmas until the 26th and I have nothing else to do

home for the holidays doesn’t always mean you have to return somewhere.

just a big pile of dumb, ridiculous fluff. happy Christmas Eve🎅🎄⛄️

***

“I can’t go home for Christmas.”

Grayson looks up from his phone as you mope into the living room, tossing your purse and keys on the couch cushion beside him before climbing onto his lap. He pouts and wraps you in his arms, pressing a kiss to your temple as you cling to him and nuzzle your nose into his warm neck.

“Aw, baby, I’m sorry,” he murmurs. You sigh when he swipes a palm across your forehead to smooth back your hair. “What happened?”

“My dad just found out he might have gotten exposed at work.” You take a deep breath, holding back tears that would do no one any good. He’s in the exact same boat as you — minus the potential risk of his parent having the virus — but it still wouldn’t be fair to him if you sat here and cried about it. “I just really was hoping I’d get to see family, at least for the holidays.”

Grayson hums a little and brushes his lips against your forehead once again; he understands all too well the struggle of beinf an out-of-state transplant in these times. “Well, lucky for us, we’ve got our own little family in this house, right? It’s not the same, of course, but it’s more than a lot of people have.”

He’s right. You mumble some semblance of agreement and squeeze him tight. You’re still upset, but the familiar smell of his cologne and the feel of being close to him is already assuaging some of your anxiety and sadness.

He hugs you back, and you can hear the reassuring smile in his voice when he speaks again. “We’ll have a party on Christmas Eve. I’ll have Adele order all the shit today; we’re gonna this the best, most festive Christmas we can, babe. I’ll make sure of it.”

Christmas Eve arrives before you know it. If 2020 has taught you anything, it’s that time is the most fickle and outrageous concept of them all; you feel like it was yesterday that you hung up the phone with your mom after finding out you’d have to cancel your flight home, when it’s really been just over a week.

You’re returning back from your apartment with a carful of presents and the other half of your closet to hang up in Grayson’s, to find an excess of Christmas decor has exploded in the twins’ house. Kristina stands precariously on a stool while she hangs a garland across the back doors, Ethan standing protectively behind her with hands held at the ready to catch her rather than simply helping her pin the other end of it to the wall. You giggle and shake your head, making your way to the den to dump some of the presents under the tree. Mando and Adele are stringing multicolored lights all across the room, which is sure to set the vibe right when the Christmas movie night starts later.

Your favorite sight by far, though, is the one you see upon entering the kitchen once your car is completely unloaded. Grayson, in a Santa hat, scooping out thumbprint cookies onto a baking sheet, singing along adorably off-key to the Kacey Musgraves rendition of ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’ that’s playing through all of the nearby alexas.

“You’re so cute,” you grin, standing on your toes to kiss his cheek before reaching down sneakily and pinching his ass.

Grayson curses with a little yelp, but chuckles with you as he ducks down for a proper welcome-home kiss.

“Gotta make Santa his cookies,” he says, grinning against your lips, then puckers them a couple more times before pulling away. He sets the bowl down and starts mashing imprints into the dough.

You reach up and squeeze the pompom on the end of his hat and quirk a suggestive brow at him. “You look like a Santa to me. And I might have a special cookie for you later tonight.”

Grayson’s own arched brows shoot up until they’re hidden beneath that sexy swoop of dark hair you love so much. He pushes too hard on one of the dough balls, squishing it much too flat, but he doesn’t even notice. “Yeah?”

You nod and pick up the jelly jar from where it sits on the counter next to a batch of already baked and cooled cookies. “Yep.” You lick and suck the remnants of the sticky sweet from the spoon that rests in the jar, eyeing him up and down. “I may have even bought special packaging for it, too.”

You smile widely at his annoyed laugh, watching him shake his head and get back to work to distract himself from the mental image of the early Christmas present he’s sure to receive tonight.

Ethan and Kristina are still hanging more garland and bunting all around the house, and you take pity on your friend when you hear her bickering quietly with her boyfriend about him refusing to do anything but be her spotter.

“I’m, like, a meter off the ground, E. You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m American; a meter sounds like a lot. And you’ve almost fallen like five times.”

“Only because you’re distracting me and not actually helping!”

You laugh and haul a barstool to where the end of the ‘merry Christmas’ bunting needs to go, shooing Ethan off to help Mando and Adele. What would Christmas be without some healthy fighting from the resident mom and dad?

Decorations get finalized, cooking and baking are completed, and everyone gathers in the living room for some fun Christmas-themed games you and Adele had found on Pinterest. Ryan even makes it over, having made the decision himself to stay in LA as well. Adele passes around more Santa hats and obnoxious necklaces made of big, lit-up Christmas lights to accompany everyone’s ugly sweaters and cozy pajama pants. It’s truly something out of a Hallmark movie, and though you still miss your family across the country, you marvel at the one you’ve built right here — just like Grayson said.

Much later on (technically Christmas Day at this point), after cycling through The Grinch, Home Alone, and Love Actually, Ethan and Kristina head to bed. Mando’s new apartment is close enough that he goes home, taking Ryan with him, and Adele crashes in the guest room. It leaves you and Grayson some alone time to cuddle up together in a bundle of blankets beneath the tree, sharing soft giggles and sweet kisses.

Grayson’s smile is infectious as he nuzzles a dimple in your cheek brought out by your own giddiness — you practically feel the energy of a child in the early morning hours of Christmas, waiting on presents to appear magically beneath the tree.

“Do you think Santa will still come if I fuck you under this tree?” he whispers, kissing your ear softly and making you shudder. The chasteness compared to the dirty nature of his words gets you even more riled up. “In the hat, and that necklace, and whatever special wrapping you mentioned earlier?”

You hum and run your hands up and down his broad back, letting him trail hot kisses now down the column of your neck, sighing happily. “I don’t know. I think rockin’ around the Christmas tree in that way might get us put on the naughty list last moment.”

“More like rompin’ around the Christmas tree, am I right babe?”

You laugh out loud, squirming beneath him when he slips his hands beneath your sweater and tickles your ribs gently. You reach up and adjust his skewed Santa hat. “Please shut up, Mr. Claus. Now, I might already be wearing that wrapping, if you’re ready to eat your cookie.”

[broadstbroskis]

13 from fluff w matty t please i’ve been in a matty t mood for like a week straight now - pucksnsticksnhockeyboys

ohhh yes that’s a mood @pucksnsticksnhockeyboys! enjoy!

13.  “Are you flirting with me?” “You finally noticed?”

You always felt like such a cliche whenever you thought about it, let alone even mentioned it, but you truly felt blessed to have found the most wonderful group of friends after moving to Calgary for college, on what was, to this date, the most (and possibly only) impulsive thing you’ve ever done in your life.

After all, you weren’t even Canadian; you still couldn’t tell anyone what it was that drew you to the city. Your best friend always jokes that it was their presence, all your friends just converging in the city, and it was meant to be.

And, well, you don’t really believe in fate usually, but it’s hard to argue with the thought when you’re squished into a booth at the bar with your favorite people, the arm of the other American transplant around your shoulders, tracing patterns lightly, as your friends all joke around you. 

“Budge over.” You nudge Matt, still smiling about the stupid thing your roommates are fighting about on the other side of the table. “I’m thirsty.”

“I got it.” Matt shakes his head at you as he stands; his curls are starting to grow out again after The Haircut ™ and they bounce a little each way as he does. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know.” You whine at him, standing up to join him on the short walk to the bar. “That’s the problem.”

Matt turns to grin at you, laughing as you reach out for his shirt to not get separated in the crowd, but he reaches back for your hand instead, gently tugging you along to the bar.

The bar is just as crowded and Matt squeezes into a spot, before pulling you in close to him, blowing your hair out of his face. “Matthew!” You snap at him as you look at the draught list, and he laughs, but he doesn’t do it again, thankfully.

Instead, he pokes his finger into your side, ignoring you while you squirm as simultaneously try to send him an annoyed look, choosing instead to settle his palm over your hip bone, brushing his thumb over the small sliver of skin between the end of your sweater and your jeans. 

“Matt, that tickles.” You whine, abandoning the draught list momentarily in favor of looking up at him. “Stop.”

He sighs dramatically, but stops moving his thumb in sweeping circles. “It’ll be hard, but for you? I guess I can.”

And that’s...you turn your body to look up at him, sure that you’ll find the same look that you’ve seen on his face since he came back to Calgary a few weeks ago, and yep, there it is. It’s that look that makes you brave and willing to take  leap here, the smile that tells you things will be okay even if you’re wrong here (but you’re pretty sure you’re not). “Are you flirting with me?”

Matt laughs- loudly, throwing his head back, and there’s a full on moment where you panic, worrying that you did read it wrong, but then he’s smiling at you again. “Oh, you finally noticed?”

It’s your turn to poke him- you can be just as annoying-and you don’t even flinch when he returns the favor. “I just- I had to be sure-the last couple weeks-”

He laughs again; it’s not as panic inducing this time, but just as loud and you wait patiently for him to look back at you. “Try since this time last year, babe.”

“Last year?” You blurt out and Matt nods, looking a little worried for the first time, which, no. That’s not cool at all. “Then we have a lot of time to make up for.” You say, pressing up on your toes so you can kiss him, but he’s already leaning down to meet you.

send me a number or make up your own prompt and i’ll write a little blurb

[royalsunshinehotel]

Peach Pie (Joshua x Winnie)

Winnifred Hart was never one to let things slide. She held people accountable, and she was consistent in her need to correct things she saw as wrong. When her live-in boyfriend Joshua told her he’d never had a birthday party, she was stunned.

Wrong.

“What in the hell are you talking about?” She winced at her accent popping out in her fury. If there was any person on this earth who needed a birthday party, it had to be Joshua.

Her Joshua, the sweetest, most kind person she’d ever met (much less dated).

“You know I was a bit...sickly. My birthday parties were just my parents and I watching TV and eating cake.” Winnie took her chance and nuzzled closer to Joshua as the two reclined on the couch.

“No pin the tail on the donkey?” She replied quietly.

“What’s that?” Joshua asked, only to be met with two round eyes, stunned beyond belief.

“...Wow, okay.” Joshua whined as Winnie pulled back, “I can fix this.” She declared.

“Fix what Love?” He grimaces, running his hand through Winnie's hair, "It’s not that big of a deal. I liked keeping it quiet."

“Babe, babe. Josh. My sweet slice of Peach pie." Winnie ran a hand through his beard. "You had a heart transplant before age 18. We need to celebrate every darn day you have on this earth!"

“Like this?” Joshua questioned, letting his hands slowly wander down, taking a firm grip on her ass while she crawled back on top of him.

“Hmmm exactly.” Winnie hummed grinding slowly, feeling Joshua get warm under her touch.

“But, I’ve got plans to make." She patted Joshua's chest twice before hopping off, and running towards another room, "Get ready mister, we’ve got a jam-packed day!"

“Jam-packed full of what?” called Joshua, suddenly feeling quite disheveled and flushed.

“You’ll see!” She shouted, closing the door to her work area, and whipping out her phone. There was work to be done.

The next day begins with a soft kiss to a cheek. Joshua had woken up to realize that his whole schedule had been cleared and more than a few meetings he’d been dreading had been pushed until the following month.

Winnie.

Breakfast was filled with Joshua’s favorites, made from scratch.

Winnie.

And Winnie hands him a schedule filled with all of his favorite places in the city. Drawn by Todd, colored by Lily Munez of suite 507.

Winnie.

Everything is absolutely perfect. Filled with all of what he loved, but nothing overwhelming. And Joshua couldn’t help but notice how well-paced the day had turned out.

They "ran into" Todd at the Museum of Modern Art, and had a solid two hour rant about how many paintings of women were actually smiling. Joshua was thrilled to find that that one "favor" he owed the director had been called in, and it was just the three of them.

They "ran into" Jesse, Winnie’s boss and a big fan of “Jinnie” at the park, and had a great time talking about absolutely nothing at all. Getting wine-drunk with your girlfriend's boss was a great way to spend the day!

Joshua was noticing the perfect one-hour gap between each friend that he and Winnie stumbled into.

Jonathan and Emily just “happened” to be at the same hamburger shack in Queens that Joshua and Winnie had gone to on their third date. Jonathan and his daughter lived in Manhattan.

Winnie, his Winnie, truly had to be some kind of mastermind.

But the day lulls from a bright blur to a dull haze, as the two lovers make their way back to their apartment in the dull amber sunset. He knew that she had this whole day framed from start to finish. He saw right through her and he loved every part.

The two took their usual walk home from the subway, hanging off each other and looking disgustingly in love to anyone who passed. When they took the elevator up to his apartment, Winnie shifted, leaning up to kiss Joshua’s cheek.

“I need you to stay put.” Winnie commanded, gesturing for Joshua to stay in their entryway.

“Okay.” He put down his various bags, and waited, just as she had asked. A few minutes past, and Joshua doesn’t move, despite various thudding noises.

Josh ran a hand through his hair, smiling as he heard footsteps echo on the other side of the wall, that kept the door away from the kitchen.

“SURPRISE!” Screamed Winnie, at the top of her lungs, cake in hand.

Chocolate with lemon frosting, the kind Joshua had on his third visit to her café. She doesn’t miss a goddamn thing, why start now? His girlfriend was sharp as a tack, and she wouldn’t miss, especially on a day like today.

Joshua blinks, before quickly, and smoothly gripping Winnie’s arm, pulling her into a soft kiss.

“You didn’t have to do all this for me.” Winnie smiles as she gives him another, “Just being with you is enough.”

“I know, puppy.” Winnie replies softly, “But you deserve the world.” She had a new heart-print set of lingerie, but she gave him another moment to explore her mouth.

[dontshootmespence]

Enough Love To Go Around

Summary: At The Breeding Bench, omegas willingly lend their ‘services’ to alphas in need.

Pairing: Alpha!Ketch x Omega!Reader, Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader, Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader, implied Alpha!Gabriel x Omega!Reader.

Word Count: 3,079

Warnings: Knotting, claiming, multiple alphas, bondage, nipping, light nipple play, power bottom Omega, slight bit of degradation, I think that’s it.

A/N: This fills my ‘power bottom’ square for @spnkinkbingo​ and my ‘slutty omega’ square for @spnabobingo​.

At The Breeding Bench, fertile omegas lend their services, i.e. their sweet little pussies, to alphas in desperate need of a cunt to fuck during their ruts. Some Omegas fall for their customers, some don’t. Some know who fathered their pups, others don’t. What remains is the omegas are in control. You’d be lying if you said this is what you imagined when you presented about 10 years ago, but you’d also be lying if you said you didn’t love what you did now.

As the owner of the business, Gabriel only took a five percent commission, so that he, and all his girls, could make a damn good living, which you did. Plus, he let his girls have all the power, unlike so many others in similar positions, so if you wanted an alpha to knot you, you could, but if you didn’t want to, you could forbid it, and thankfully everyone that used the establishment played by the rules.

The only Alpha you’d had so far, and the one you shared your only pup (so far) with, was Gabriel. He was a wonderful Alpha and father, and totally not the jealous type, so even after he claimed you, he said if you wanted to accept other alphas he was fine with that so long as he could claim another omega. Any other pups you might have he would help provide for.

All the girls had their regulars, the ones that would utilize the services of The Breeding Bench during every single one of their ruts. Then there were the floaters that came in and out of town. You had your regulars too; the brothers, Sam and Dean, a British transplant named Arthur Ketch, a man named Castiel floated in a few times a year and always booked some time with you and one of the other girls, Meg. You never cared to know people’s names unless they came in often, so you knew a few other names, including Gadreel, Benny and Mick.

Within the next week you had appointments with Sam, Dean and Arthur; they’d been your clients the longest and you trusted them all implicitly. Sam had no Omega. Dean had one, another friend of yours, Jo, and Arthur didn’t have one either. You’d have any or all of them if they wanted.

Walking into the back office, you bent down and gave Gabriel a kiss. Somehow, he’s able to perfectly balance being a father to your one-year-old pup, Aiden, with running this kind of establishment. “Who’s coming tonight?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Everyone who walks in the door, obviously,” you laughed. “But if you mean who’s on the schedule, Sam and Dean. I wasn’t supposed to have Arthur for a couple days, but he asked to reschedule and told him if he didn’t mind working around Sam and Dean then I’d be happy to squeeze him in...so to speak.”

Gabriel chuckled, his pen gliding over the numbers in the books. “Dirty little Omega. They’ve been going to you since we opened, right?”

“Yup, nearly five years for all of them. Arthur’s not the type to take an Omega. He’s more just in it for the fuck,” you say softly out of range of Aiden’s little ears. “But the boys I could see being interested. You’re still okay with that, right?”

“As long as you are, love. As long as everyone knows I’m your primary Alpha, you can have as many as you want.”

With a smile, you gave him another kiss and placed another on the top of Aiden’s head. In order to make sure there’s no immediate territory issues between alphas, only one alpha is allowed in a room with you at a time, so no threesomes or moresomes are allowed. Apparently, Gabriel had allowed it once upon a time but after one alpha nearly ripped another’s throat out he set up ground rules.

Despite being brothers, Sam and Dean could get territorial with you if they were both in a rut in your presence at the same time, so Dean would be your second appointment and Sam your last. First was Arthur.

Stepping into your usual room, you met his steely gaze and a shiver ran quickly down your spine at the sight of his smirk. “Hello, darling.”

“Hey, Ketch,” you greeted as you turned to close the door. Before you could turn around, he was on you, his mouth gliding up and down your neck in search of whatever sweet spot might make you squirm today. “Rut came early, huh?”

He only grunted in response before spinning you around and yanking your jeans and panties down with a few quick movements. “On the bed, head over the edge, mouth open. Don’t swallow a damn thing.”

“Wanna fuck me stupid?”

“You could say that,” he growled.

Crawling onto the bed, you let your tongue hang out and clasped your hands in front of you so that you could give him the illusion of control. Slick already dripped from you, easing the thick slide of his cock inside you. He bent down over you and bit down on your ear as he began to pump into you. “No talking. Just let me fuck that sweet little cunt.”

Whimpering, you turned toward him only to have him shove your face back into the bed. “Such a good little cunt.”  You smiled to yourself, crying out each time he thrusted to the hilt. As the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, heat spread throughout your body, nerves licked by fire until saliva was dripping onto the floor of its own accord. “Whose cunt is this?” He asked, desperation demanding an answer.

Every word was punctuated by a sharp thrust. “It’s- Your- Cunt- Sir.”

With a final thrust, he quickly pulled out and walked to where your face hung over the bed. Grabbing your hair, he yanked your head back. His knot was thick and swollen, aching for connection, but Ketch was a man of no complications and preferred not to knot, instead slipping his cock down your throat. “Swallow it all, love.”

You eagerly did as he commanded, smiling around him as he pulled out and slapped his knot against your lips, leaving a trail of spit to roll down your chin. Bending down, he tongued at your mouth and instructed you to stay still while he readied himself to leave. “Love marveling at my handiwork.”

Just before he slipped out of the room, he turned to you. “Until next time, darling.”

Smiling, you licked your lips in reply.

One down, two to go.

---

Combing your hands through your hair, you stood up and went to the adjoining bathroom to clean up for your next appointment. As promised, Ketch had fucked you stupid, so it took a few minutes before you felt like yourself again. You brushed your hair and slipped into a different outfit that you knew Dean would lose his mind over - leather pants with a low-cut red top and matching heels.

You’d be a little early for Dean’s appointment, but after brushing your teeth, you returned to the bedroom (which had newly laundered sheets thanks to the staff) and sat with your legs crossed, patiently waiting. Though your heat was likely a few weeks away at the very least, Dean’s scent filled your nostrils before he even walked in the room. “Holy shit, babe. You trying to kill me?”

You ran your tongue over your teeth as Dean shrugged his leather jacket off and practically lunged across the room, teeth nipping and biting at your heated skin. Arching into his hunger, you scratched at his skin, giving him silent permission to let himself go. “You’re always safe with me, Dean.”

He lifted you up against the wall and raked his hand up under your shirt to lift it over your head. “How long we been doin, this? Five years?”

Reaching down into your panties, you pushed them down along with your leather pants and kicked them to the side. “Five years, baby.” There was an obvious, unspoken question dancing on the tip of his tongue. “Wanna knot me, Alpha?”

“Already got one. Okay to share?”

“As long as you are.”

He grunted as he kicked his pants off and laughed. “We can be one big happy family.”

Laughter dissolved into a drive you’d never seen in him before, that pure Alpha desire and strength that most saved for the ones they claimed. As he carried you to the bed, he tore your shirt off and pushed your bra off in the most clumsy, too-sex-starved-to-care way. His cock pressed against your stomach and you palmed at it, massaging his knot before he laid you down on the bed and dropped to his knees. Entwining his fingers in yours, he licked his way up your pussy, moaning at the taste of your slick. “Goddamn, baby.” Dean’s tongue slid up and down your folds, lips suckling at soft skin.

“Knot me, Alpha,” you breathed. You whined in desperation and watched as his head popped up from between your legs and he stalked his way up your body.

When his face hovered over yours, his hunger softened for a moment as his lips met yours. “You know I’m not doing this just because I’m mid-rut, right? I might have started off as just your customer but-”

With every bit of strength you could muster, you grabbed his face and crashed your lips into his. “And I don’t let just anyone knot me. Only someone I trust. Someone I love.”

Not another word was spoken as Dean slipped his hands up your arms and into the space between your fingers, gliding your arms above your head. “You sure?”

“Fuck me, Alpha.”

Biting your lip, you sighed as his knot filled you. He was shaking, undoubtedly trying not to just fuck you like a jackhammer and actually take his time. It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate it, but you wanted, needed, to see him lose control. Despite his grip on your hands, you wrapped your legs around him and dug your heels into his lower back. “It’s okay, Alpha. Fuck me. Make me yours.”

An appreciative growl rolled up from his throat as he thrusted into you to the hilt. “Not gonna last long.”

“Don’t care,” you replied, nipping at his ear. “Just need you.”

With each thrust, you dug your heels in harder and harder until he was practically grinding into you. Knot swelling, he started to rut against you and whisper in your ear about how he was going to fill you up, every word of which you soaked in as your legs began to shake. “That’s it, Dean. Fuck, fuck fuck.”

When his knot locked to you, his mouth dropped open, but nothing came out. All he could do was go still above you, thick ropes of come spilling into your pussy. Slowly, his rutting slowed to a stop, though his lips continued their sweet assault on the side of your neck. “Love you,” he said softly, smiling into your shoulder.

“I love you, too, Alpha.”

As his knot released itself, you talked about where things would go from here. Like Gabriel, he promised that whether or not any pups were his he would take care of them, just as he was doing with Jo. He also respected your decision to accept more alphas if you so chose. He only asked to know who they were. “Gotta make sure they’re good enough for you, too. Otherwise I’ll rip their throats out.”

Finally, his knot released and he pulled out to lay at your side. “I wouldn’t want it any other way. You know I have to get ready for my next appointment, right?”

“Yea,” he replied with a knowing smile. “Can I ask you something?”

You nodded.

“You want Sam to be your alpha too, don’t you?”

Shyly, you nodded again and rolled on top of him. “I do. I’ve been seeing him as long as you. I love you both. I’ve got a lot of love to go around though I promise.”

“Well, Sam I can personally vet and say I trust him. Is there anyone else? Besides Gabriel I mean?”

“Not right now. I do have some consistent customers, but no one else I’m on that level with yet. Just you three. I trust you with my life.”

Glancing at the clock, Dean sat up and situated you in his lap, tonguing at your mouth. “After your next appointment, you free?”

“Yea. Have some ideas?”

“I do. Maybe Sam can join in on the fun.”

“I’d love that.”

As he got dressed, you fell into easy conversation about his work at the shop, which he owned alongside Sam. Most knowledgeable gun enthusiasts in the Midwest. “See you later, ‘Mega. Show Sam a good time.”

“I always do,” you said with a wink.

And with that he was out the door, leaving you just enough time to get cleaned up for Sam.

---

After getting cleaned up, you went back to your once again freshly made bed. You didn’t bother getting dressed. Sam normally preferred you be naked the minute he walked in anyway.

Maybe it was Dean knotting you, maybe it was the amount of sex you’d had in the past few days, but you were pretty sure your heat was going to come a littler earlier than usual, but you didn’t mind. With (hopefully) three Alphas, you’d be taken care of in any and every way. And you wanted another pup. Aiden was the light of your life.

Rubbing your legs together, you slipped your hand between your legs and inhaled the sharp smell of pine mixed with motor oil and just a dash of freshly fallen rain. You didn’t even realize Sam was there until the door closed. “Already getting ready for me?”

“I could smell you,” you replied with a smile. Feeling bold, you decided to ask Sam rather than wait. “Can I ask you something? And if you say no, it’s okay, we can continue on as normal.”

Sam’s brows furrowed. “Something wrong?” He asked, pressing a kiss to your plump lips.

“Not at all. You know I have an Alpha right?”

“Gabriel, and I’m going to go out on a limb and say Dean claimed you too.”

“Yea, because I love them both. And I love you. Would you knot me too? Claim me?”

His eyes transitioned from soft and concerned to hungry and possessive in an instant. “Fuck yes. Wanna see you round with my pups. Even if they aren’t mine. You are and they’ll be in every way that matters. Can we use the bench?”

Giggling, you opened the closet door and pulled out the collapsable bench he liked to use. Before you even laid a hand on it to unfold it, he yanked it away and readied it quickly, roughly grabbing your hips to bend you over the bench. “Wait,” you said.

He stopped immediately. “What is it?”

“I want to look at you when you claim me. Tie me up face up?” Sam bit your lower lip and smiled into your mouth before practically throwing you onto the bench, hands tied to a bar above your head. “Tie my legs too?” You asked breathlessly.

Dropping to his knees in front of you, Sam tied your ankles to the legs of the bench, his lips and teeth and tongue trailing over your legs as his hands deftly fiddled with the ropes. “You’re so damn perfect. So eager to be used.”

Your tongue darted out and washed over your bottom lip. Feeling helpless in your Alphas’ embrace - it imbued you with a strength you didn’t have in any other moment.

As he straddled the bench, legs on either side of your slightly spread ones, he pinched your nipples and relished in the way you embraced pain. You felt your slick drip onto the bench below your ass and popped your head up to see Sam stroking himself, his knot almost painfully swollen. “Fuck me, Alpha. Pound my sweet little pussy.”

Growling, Sam slipped himself inside you with one swift thrust. Had you not entertained other appointments this evening, his thickness would’ve pained you, but you were more than ready for him. Your body was eager for it and even though you could barely move due to the binds around your wrists and ankles, you tried to buck into his movements.

Sam grasped the bench on either side of your hips and used it as leverage to pump into you, his cock coated with slick with each pass into your wet heat. Each pointed thrust rattled your entire body. But it wasn’t close enough, despite how his knot was swelling inside you. You wanted him closer, covering you. “I need to feel all of you,” you breathed, almost begging. “Just fuck me. Mark me. Make me yours.”

Bending over, he placed most of his weight on you, his chiseled chest flush with yours. He was so heavy and desperate for release you could barely breathe, but it didn’t matter when you felt his knot lock to you. He breathed against your neck. “Gonna pump you full of my cum. You’re gonna take it like a little Omega?”

“Yes, Alpha. Pump me full.”

A strained groan erupted from his lips, which wrapped around your nipple. He bit down so hard you cried out and bucked upward as much as your body would allow, legs trembling so violently you could hear the bench shaking underneath you. “Fuck, Sam.”

Sam chuckled into your sweat-slick skin, rutting against you while he came down from his high. Once his knot finally released, he removed the ties that bound you to the chair and carried you to the bed. He slipped in behind you and cradled you in his embrace, every inch of his body molded against yours. Even now you could help but grab his arm and wrap it around you, craving the closeness. “Even now, such a needy little Omega,” Sam laughed.

“Always.” For a few minutes, you sat there in silence, breathing in rhythm with each other. “You were my last appointment for the night. I promised Dean we’d go out. Wanna join? I could show you both just how needy I really am.”

Sam swallowed hard and smiled into your neck, a movie’s worth of images playing through his mind. “Slutty little ‘Mega.”

“Damn right.”

[snarkymonkeyprime]

You said you needed some prompts right? How’s this for a little snippet?

Dean and Sam accidentally time travel to when Cas was female and they’re looking for ways to get back but neither of them know Cas is... Cas so Dean starts heavily flirting with our amazing femme fatale and then Cas gives him the “..Dean.” and Dean of course loses his mind because that obviously can’t be Cas but holy crap it is

And long story short they find out that all three time traveled but only Dean and Sam stayed the same since they weren’t alive yet and they whip up some angel magic and go home with Dean’s lone star braincell still dinging around his head like a broken screensaver

Hmmm.................:D

     It wasn’t like when Balthazar launched them through that real window into a fake one.  Not quite so seamless.  No, this time, Dean was launched into a wall, the end-table he’d collided with cracking to pieces and Sam had let out the most unholy screech as he’d slammed into the shut door at Dean’s right.

     Injured, but not one to miss a chance, he wheezed, “First time with a door, Sam?”

     His brother kicked him in the calf before lumbering to his feet.  “Holy shit,” he grunted.  He straightened, wincing.  “What the hell happened?”

     Dean sat up, checking for injuries.  Other than ego and some bruising, nothing.  He glanced around, unnerved to find that it wasn’t anywhere he recognized.  Drop cloths scattered the surfaces of furniture, including the one he’d destroyed with his ass.  He hopped to his feet, brushing invisible dirt from his jacket.

     “Balthazar?”  He squinted through the silent room.  “Cas?”

     “Huh.”  Sam tugged on the door he’d crashed into, nodding when it swung open on quiet hinges.  “Well, we’re in someone’s house.”

     “Yeah, but whose?”  Dean pushed Sam back, peering down the well-lit hall.  Crystal sconces glittered with flame, the smell of oil thick in the air.  “Uh, this place is old.”  Old but new.  Everything looked the height of opulence but by virtue of the gas lamps, nowhere near their own decade.

     “Uh, shouldn’t they have warned us?” Sam grumbled.

     Dean considered.  The box they’d found.  That ornate, steam trunk.  As soon as they’d opened it, this had happened.  “Fuck,” he muttered.  He looked at Sam, catching the understanding.  “Why the hell was that in the bunker?”

     “Not my fault,” Sam protested.  He sighed, scratching his head.  “Can you reach Cas?  Maybe your . . .” he waved a hand, “. . . bond will cross time or something.”

     Dean’s face flushed but he tried.  He shut his eyes, pricking that thin line that he knew connected him to the stoic angel.  “Uh, breaker breaker, Cas,” he muttered.  “Bit of a shitstorm we got, pal.”

     The click of heels pulled him from his attempt.  He stiffened, glancing down the hall toward the woman who had stepped through the door at his left.

     He plastered his best, charming smile, hoping like fuck his clothing didn’t look too odd.  He was fairly certain he and Sam didn’t blend but hopefully, they could figure out where and when they were and find a way back.

     The woman hadn’t moved, merely watched Dean with startling blue eyes, black hair loose and soft along her neck and shoulders.  She squinted but remained silent.

     Okay, maybe she’s not all there.  Good, good.  He could work with that.  She was striking, though.  Tall and slender but not waif-like.  The dress she wore was a simple dark blue, the laced up corset black with white trim.  She stepped close, the bustle behind her shifting as she moved.

     “You aren’t meant to be here,” she stated, voice smoky and accented.

     Fuck, we’re in England?  Crap.  He grinned but she only squinted again in response.  “Um,” he coughed, thinking quickly.  He knew Sam was giving him a death glare but Dean plastered his best cockney bullshit and swaggered closer.  “Wrong turn and all, Miss.  We’s best be on our way.”  He doffed an imaginary cap and started shooing Sam toward what he thought was the front door.

     To his surprise, the woman only shook her head, striding up to Dean in a manner that felt far too familiar.  Less than a foot away, she met Dean’s eyes, mouth a tight line.  “No, you’re early.  And in the wrong country.”

     “Uh,” Dean swallowed, unnerved.  He didn’t know what it was about this oddball lady but everything she was doing reminded him of someone far older and more male.  He laughed nervously.  “Just . . . wrong turn, Miss,” he tried again.

     She shook her head, dark hair falling in careful waves.  “Dean.  You are very bad at lying.”

     He stared.

     She stared back, unperturbed.

     “H-how do . . .” he laughed, the sound high-pitched and whistling.  “Uh, h-h-what . . .”

     Her blue eyes didn’t drift from his when she intoned, “Sam.  I assume he touched something he shouldn’t have?”  She turned then to Sam, the same impassive look transplanted on the taller Winchester.

     It was Sam who picked up faster.  “Castiel?” he squawked.

     She frowned but nodded.  “Indeed.”  She poked a finger in Dean’s chest.  “I’m assuming this was a trick of Gabriel’s.”  Her frown darkened.  “Or Balthazar.”  She sighed.  “No matter.”  She lifted her hand, fingertips hovering over Dean’s forehead.  “Hold still.”

     “Wait!” Dean gripped her wrist, meeting her - Castiel’s - eyes.  That familiar blue.  He could see his friend behind her eyes.  The ageless creature he loved.  He paled, swallowing hard.  “Cas . . . is it . . .”

     Her look softened, the faintest of smiles lifting the corner of her lips.  “Try not to be upset when you see me again.”

     This time, Dean frowned.  “Why the hell would I be pissed?”

     She blinked, tugging her hand free to sweep it down her side.  “This vessel.  More to your liking, yes?”  Again, that odd smile.  

     “Oh, like I care about that,” he snapped.  “Your vessel could be a fucking mailbox, Cas; wouldn’t change how I feel.”  And then reddened when both Castiel and Sam stared at him.  “Ignore that,” he muttered, grabbing her hand and pressing her fingers to his forehead.  “Okay.  Zap me.  Now.”

     A full smile bloomed on Castiel’s face.  “I love you, too, Dean.”  She tilted her head.  “But please, stop touching things.”

     The return trip was far less painful, at least on a physical level.  He and Sam were once more standing in front of the steamer trunk, the lid firmly in place.  He squatted down and peered at the markings along one of the old copper bands and bit back a curse.

     Tiny but clear, the smallest etching of a certain annoying archangel, middle fingers on full display.

     “Oh, fuck you, Gabe,” he muttered.  He rose and turned when he realized Sam had been fully silent.

     Sam was struggling not to laugh, his face red and tears streaming down his face.  “A mailbox?” he wheezed.

    “Oh, fuck you, too,” Dean muttered.

     Sam held his hands out as he followed Dean from the storage room.  “Castiel, my Castiel!  Please, send my taxes to the government, my love!”

     “Fuck you, Sam!”

     “Hello, Dean.”

     He stopped, turning to see Castiel in the doorway of his borrowed room.

     Sam slapped his shoulder and pushed past, singing “Hey, Mr. Postman” on his way toward the kitchen.

     Castiel watched him go for a moment before focusing on Dean again.  “I didn’t mean to create a problem for you.”  He looked away then, looking unusually timid.  “No matter my vessel, I know what I feel for you.  But I do understand it may --” he fell silent when Dean grabbed him and pulled him into a kiss.

     Dean sighed as he pulled back, grinning at the amazement across Castiel’s face as he did.  “Thought you knew everything that happened across all time?”

    Castiel’s dark lashes fluttered as he raised a cautious hand, letting it rest on Dean’s chest.  “I avoided what might . . . hurt to know.”

     Dean kissed him again, relaxing when the angel did the same, molding to his arms in the way he’d been dreaming of for too many years.  He pulled away again, swiping a thumb along Castiel’s jawbone.  “You know, you were a pretty hot babe.”

     The angel frowned and opened his mouth, snapping it shut when Dean continued.

     “This vessel’s pretty hot, too.”

     Castiel smiled then, an echo of the raven-haired mistress he’d met.  “Is it?” he murmured.

     Dean laughed then, stealing another kiss.  “It’s the eyes though.  I know those eyes.”  

     “As I know this heart,” Castiel replied.

     “Now who’s being sappy?” Dean chided.  He winced when he caught Sam bellowing more of that damn song.  “Goddammit,” he muttered.  Revenge was very quickly forgotten when Castiel drew him into the room, shutting the door tightly.

     He hated thinking he owed Gabriel for this one.  

[nosleepstillweak]

slushie

It’s long after visiting hours when Vivian finally finds the time to get to the hospital. She carefully parks on the side wing and swiftly walks around the building to the entrance closest to her destination. The lobby has been darkened for the graveyard shift, softly backlit by the white hall lights. There’s a nurse at the desk but Vivian recognizes the woman immediately as Nurse Jessica, the only one who allows her to come in after closing. The nurse smiles softly and points down the hallway, Vivian following her directions to a small room at the end. The young woman creeps through the semi-open door and gently closes it behind her. She finally breathes out a sigh of relief. “Hey, Matthew.”

“Vivi.” The word is barely audible underneath the swell of air from the oxygen mask.

“Yes, baby, it’s me.” The bedside chair gently scrapes against the floor as Vivian takes a seat, leaning forward to kiss her boyfriend’s cheek. “How are you feeling?” The question is a pleasantry more than anything; they can both attest to the fact that it’s been a rough couple of days. Still, Matthew shakily lifts his hand and makes a so-so motion. The IV connected to his arm sways with the movement.

“Well,” Vivian moves her hand up to brush some hair away from his eyes, “I have some news that might cheer you up. I was told you moved up another spot on the transplant list.”

There’s a beat of silence where Matthew just stares at her, processing her words. Any step towards reaching a donor is monumentous--they’ve been waiting for two months to even come close--but the implications of someone else dropping off the list… Vivian just prays every time that it’s not him next. Matthew seems to realize this, too, and does his best to at least feign optimism. This time, he lets her take his hand and they cling to each other’s fingers. Vivian tiredly smiles at the sight.

“More good news: I got a new job. Remember that old convenience store we used to have dates at?”

“S-Slushies…” Even in his drug-addled state, Matthew’s eyes still glitter with childlike amusement; he’s always had a hell of a sweet tooth.

“Yup, the slushie maker is still working like a charm.” She leans in closer for a stage whisper. “I’ll try to sneak one in for you the next time Nurse Jessica goes on break.”

“I heard that! And I dare you to try!” The hiss from the other side of the door forces a laugh out of Vivian. Matthew can’t quite do the same, but he does manage a dopey grin underneath the clear mask on his face. They smile at one another and further intertwine their fingers together. The heart monitor in the corner of the room continues to beep, strong and steady; the monotonous sound comforts them both.

***

“Thank you, and have a great day!” The smile that graces Vivian’s face fades the instant the final customer retreats from the store. “...bitch. Good riddance.” It’s the end of her first of two shifts and she’s already fed up with unruly customers and nosy coworkers. Maybe working at the convenience store wasn’t the best idea.

“You smell interesting today.” Speaking of nosy coworkers.

“Uh… thanks, Tim? Kinda weird way to greet someone, but to each their own.”

He taps his chin as if deep in thought. “It’s something familiar, but I can’t place it.”

Vivian snorts as she restocks a stack of cups. “Like weed?”

Tim snaps in mock epiphany. “Like antiseptic.”

“...Just a new perfume I’m trying.”

“Try harder. How’s your boy Matthew doing?”

He picks at the scab and it lifts. “He’s fine. Can we talk about something else?”

“‘He’s fine’? Oh, yeah, that’s convincing.”

“Whatever happened to keeping work and home separate?” Vivian hates to raise her voice, but talking about her dying boyfriend to a near-stranger isn’t exactly her ideal workday. “Just mind your own business and I’ll mind mine.”

“Hey, I was just trying to be helpful.” Tim holds his hands up in surrender.

“Well, you’re doing a bad job.” She frustratedly smushes more cups into the machine before sighing in exasperation. “Now, if you’re done with the interrogation, let’s go take a smoke break before the next shift.”

***

“Vivian! You’re home late.” The last person that Vivian hopes will catch her sneaking into her apartment building at one in the morning is her landlady. Then again, few things have been going her way these past few days.

“Oh! Hi, Mrs., uh, Goo… Gow… uh, G-Go?”

“Tsk, all these months, and you still can’t pronounce it,” the older woman admonishes playfully. "Just say ‘goo-oh’."

"’Goo-oh’. Cool. Is that actually how you pronounce it?"

"No." Mrs. Guo grins jokingly and Vivian can’t help but smile back. The two make casual conversation as they work their way up the staircase together.

“Oh, how’s that handsome boyfriend of yours? Marcus, was it?”

Vivian almost misses a step. “It’s Matthew. And he’s fine.”

“Good, good! You should bring him over again so I can fatten him up. He looked so thin!”

“Yeah, I’ll bring it up with him.” The younger woman clears her throat awkwardly. “Anyways, I know I was a little short on rent last month, but I just got a new job. Just know I’m working on it.”

“Ah, yes, the same ‘work’ that sends you home reeking of cannabis every night.” The older way laughs heartily at the fiery blush that appears on Vivian’s face. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. I was adventurous when I was younger, too.”

“You’re the best, Mrs. G. I’ll get you the remainder on rent by the end of the week!”

“Mhm. Just say hi to Matthew for me!”

***

“My landlady says hi.” Vivian traces her finger along the outside of the IV port in her boyfriend’s arm.

“Well, hiya, Vivi’s landlady!” The hospital bed rattles as Matthew flails his free hand dramatically, waving at the wall as if it was a person. Vivian can’t suppress a laugh at his goofy smile and childlike theatrics.

“Wow, you’re awfully energetic. Anything to report?”

He just shrugs, sobering down to a small grin. “I got off oxygen today and they eased up on my meds. It’s nice to be, like, actually coherent for once.”

“No more oxygen mask? So I can do this.” Without a second thought, Vivian leans forward to place a kiss on his lips. Matthew immediately grabs at her waist and pulls her closer, reciprocating the gesture with a surprising amount of fervor. Pure instinct has Vivian pressing down on his thigh to push further herself towards him, but then he lets out a small grunt of discomfort and she jerks away.

“Did I hurt you? Are you in pain?”

“No.” The lie dissolves under Vivian’s glare. “I’m just sore. It’s manageable.”

“Sore? Matthew, you need to be on meds if you’re hurting.”

“The meds make me feel awful. It’s fine, babe, I swear.” He pouts childishly and playfully lunges out to hold her hands, but his expression darkens when Vivian recoils from his touch.

“It’s most definitely not fine! It’s destructive and inhibits your own recovery. You can’t keep living like this--”

“Okay, yes, Vivi, you’re right. I can’t keep living like this!” Matthew practically snarls as his voice rises in time with the tempo of the heart monitor. “I’m drugged to hell and back for most of the day, I can’t feed myself, I can’t walk around. My parents won’t even visit me anymore because they’re scared to see me like this!”

“None of that is your fault.” Vivian hates the way her voice cracks halfway through the sentence. “That’s not a reason to avoid your meds.”

“You probably hate me, like this. I’m so weak and pitiful and an awful boyfriend.”

“What? No, Matthew, that’s not true at all.”

“Yeah, sure. News flash, Vivian,” the word spits out like acid, despite the tears clearly flooding to his eyes, “I hate myself like this, too! Genuinely, I’m sorry that I can’t be stronger for you. I’m so sorry.”

She feels like throwing up. “Matthew, please.”

“I can’t even--” He chokes mid-sentence, a hand suddenly shooting up to clutch at his chest. “I can’t e-even… I c-can’t…”

“Matthew?” He coughs violently into the crook of his arm, his body hunched over as pain rattles through him with each forceful exhale. Vivian gently pats his back, used to comforting him through his coughing fits, but she instantly pulls away when she sees that his inner arm comes away speckled red. It’s at that moment that the heart monitor careens to a high-pitched squeal and Matthew suddenly starts convulsing. “M-Matthew!”

Nurses immediately rush into the room. Strong hands guide her into the hallway and towards the hospital entrance, away from the deafening noise of the wailing heart monitor. Nurse Jessica grabs the sides of her face and tells her that everything is going to be okay. Vivian can barely comprehend the words. She won’t let herself cry; she can’t. Her head is still spinning from Matthew’s outburst, but there’s not much that she can do about it right now. At a loss, she bites down hard on her tongue, enough to taste the blood coating her teeth, before finally shoving her uniform visor over her head and starting towards her car.

***

“So,” Tim puffs out a ring of smoke before passing the blunt back to Vivian, “how’re things?”

“Look, I already know where this is going and I don’t feel like talking about Matthew tonight. We had a stupid fight this morning, and I’m just--”

“Alright, alright, that’s fine. No Matthew. How are you doing?”

The memory of Matthew’s prone body seizing against the hospital bed flashes in her mind. “Honestly? Kinda awful.”

“That’s probably warranted. Any life-threatening ailment that I should be worried about on your behalf?”

“Nah.” Vivian smiles sarcastically through another drag. “Nothing physical, anyways.”

“So, something mental?”

She just shrugs.

“That’s still problematic. Have you considered therapy? Maybe some counseling for now, until things settle down. I know a couple of guys, actually--”

“I’m not going to therapy.” Vivian quickly interrupts Tim’s rambling before he drawls on into a full-blown lecture. “My boyfriend is stuck in a hospital, toeing the line between life and death every day, and I’m supposed to complain about my circumstances? I think I’m okay.”

“Him going through a lot doesn’t invalidate your feelings, Vivian.”

“I think it kinda does, Tim.”

“You said you and Matthew had a fight? Maybe there’s just too much going on right now, for both of you.” The smoking bud gets squashed between Tim’s fingers as he wonders out loud. “Maybe you two need a break from each other.”

“God, shut up, Tim. We’re gonna figure it all out together, no break necessary.” Vivian’s face glows as she swiftly ignites another blunt, theatrically waving it in the air once it’s lit. “Plus, I’ve already got the best therapy that money can buy.”

***

The inevitable apology visit to the hospital happens after Vivian’s third shift in a row. She’s exhausted and more than a little embarrassed to put her pride aside, but the blue raspberry slushie in her hand burns like fire. Nurse Jessica is in the middle of painting an elderly woman’s fingernails, taking a moment to examine Vivian’s posture as she approaches. If she notices the apology slushie, she doesn’t mention or confiscate it.

“He was in a lot of pain earlier, but they maxed him out on meds and those knocked him out. Last I checked, he was still asleep.” She nods down the hallway with a sympathetic smile. Vivian thanks the nurse and slowly makes the walk of shame down to her boyfriend’s hospital room. Her mind is racing through different words to say. This isn’t the first time they’ve ever had a fight, not even since his initial diagnosis, but her earlier conversation with Tim has left a lot to think about.

“Matthew?” She whispers softly as she enters the dark room. Naturally, there’s no response. She sets the slushie down on the bedside table and sits down in a chair, taking one of his cold hands in hers and caressing it gently.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have gotten you so worked up.” The apology is a bit half-baked but, to her knowledge, it falls on deaf ears. She moves to stroke Matthew's hair until she notices that his whole body is trembling under the sheets. Vivian’s expression melts into horror when she also realizes that his eyes are wide open. Her gaze travels up to the near-empty IV bag hanging by his bed. There’s no way he should be awake with all the drugs currently in his system. Not unless...

“Matthew, are you still in pain right now?” It honestly doesn’t matter whether the hurt is physical or emotional; the single tear that rolls down his cheek is answer enough. Vivian shushes him softly and reaches forward to gingerly wrap her arms around him. His body is still trembling violently but Matthew leans into the hug as much as he can, his muted crying slowly dissolving into full-blown sobs. What pains Vivian most is that she can tell that each shuddery gasp only hurts him more. He weakly grasps at her work outfit and soaks the fabric with tears. The slushie beside them melts into juice.

They both cling to each other until Matthew’s breathing slowly evens out and he quietly dozes off. Vivian’s hands are shaking as she rests him back against the bed. She wearily pecks a kiss to his forehead before rushing out of the room, avoiding Nurse Jessica at the main entrance and breaking into a run in the parking lot. There’s a brief scuffle with the car door and then Vivian’s throwing herself into the driver’s seat. She wastes no time in ripping a blunt out of her purse and igniting it before taking drag after drag after drag. The finished stub falls into her lap within minutes, but the pain in her chest lingers for long after.

***

Two weeks later, Matthew finally gets matched with a donor. Apparently, the rapid deterioration of his already unfavorable condition was enough to finally convince someone that he was worth saving. The surgery is scheduled for the first week of September--another two weeks of waiting--and Matthew’s parents are even making the trip down to help him through his recovery. It’s already common knowledge that Vivian doesn’t have the best relationship with her boyfriend’s family; that makes their next conversation only slightly less painful.

“I think we should take a break.”

“A b-break?” Matthew wheezes out sluggishly. He has to pause every few words to suck in a breath, his chest barely expanding as his lungs struggle to get in enough air. The oxygen mask is back and he looks so much smaller in his hospital bed. Vivian would never say it out loud but the sight terrifies her.

“Yes. At least while you have your transplant surgery.”

“Are we... b-breaking up?”

“No, baby, not at all. I just can’t be here with you right now.”

“S-So you’ve been here... the whole t-time… but you’re leaving... at the f-finish line?”

Something in Vivian’s face twitches and she has to fight the urge to not pull out a blunt right then and there. “It’s not like that, Matthew. You know that.”

“You’re l-leaving me… all alone.”

“Your parents will still be here.”

“Oh, g-great... my p-parents.” He attempts to roll his eyes sarcastically, but he’s apparently too exhausted to do more than a slow blink. “Where w-will... you b-be?”

“Resting. Thinking.” Smoking. Well, probably not, since Tim’s been trying to get her to quit. “I’m actually moving in with a friend from work, so I won’t be alone. Don’t worry about me.”

Despite looking unconvinced, Matthew manages a weak nod. “O-Okay. But... you’ll be b-back? After the... s-surgery?”

“Yes. I promise.”

“Okay.” He nods again. “You p-promised. I t-trust you.”

“Thank you, Matthew. Please take care.”

“You t-too, Vivi.” He stares at her for a moment longer before he finally succumbs to the tide of exhaustion. Vivian watches the muscles in his face slowly relax, the small clouds of air steadily appearing and disappearing as he breathes into his mask. The heart monitor beeps normally in the corner. Only then does she let some of the tears fall; this time, she’s made sure that he’s not awake to see them.

***

“You’re moving out?” Vivian startles as she stacks another box outside of her room, whipping around to address her visitor.

“Oh, Mrs. Guo!” The older woman beams at the correct pronunciation of her name. “Yeah, I’m moving in with a friend on the other side of town. It’s just temporary.”

“Is it because you’re still low on cash? Don’t worry, dear, I can give you another month--”

“No, no, no!” Vivian shakes her head furiously. “I mean, yes, I am, but that’s not why. I would just rather not be alone right now. I’m in the process of getting some things in order.”

“Alrighty. Well, at least come over for dinner tonight.” Mrs. Guo is already retreating down the hallway to make preparations. “No Marcus necessary. It’ll be just us girls. How does that sound?”

Vivian barks out a laugh, not bothering to make a correction. “Yeah, I think I can do that.”

***

“I swear, Matthew, if I don’t get a call, I’m just gonna assume bad news.”

“I-I can’t guarantee a call, Vivi. And there w-won’t be bad news.”

“You can’t guarantee that, either.”

“Then come s-see me yourself.”

“Matthew, please, I’m sorry, but I can’t do that anymore. It’s not fair to either of us.”

“Is it b-because we’re s-still on a b-break?”

“Yes. Sorta. You have your parents, anyways.”

“I g-guess. I w-wish you were h-here, though.”

“I will be. Promise. I just need time.”

“Okay. I t-trust you. I have to g-go now.”

“You better call me, okay?”

“I’ll t-try. Please t-take care.”

“You better call me.”

“O-Okay. I love y-you, Vivian.”

“Yeah, yeah, me too. See you soon.”

***

It’s been a month since their last phone call, or conversation in general. Vivian replays the recorded snippet on her phone every day during her lunch break, wishing she had said more. She hopes the surgery went well. She hates that he hasn’t bothered to call yet. She hates even more that she hasn’t gone to see him herself. The empty promise floats through her mind, but she can’t imagine going to see him in whatever state he’s in. If there’s even someone there to see. She shivers at the thought.

“Vivian, I need two slushies, stat.”

“God, Tim, just do it yourself. I’m busy.” She moves to replay the audio again.

“Bro, you’re literally on your phone. Just come over here.”

“Dude, I said I’m busy.”

There’s a brief silence. “Well, I, uh, broke the slushie machine.”

“What!? How the hell did you break--!?” Vivian whirls around, ripping an earbud out as she prepares to rip into him. Instead, she runs directly into a different yet all-too-familiar face.

“Hey, Vivi.”

All she can do is stare. It’s definitely him. There are crutches leaning against his sides and his face is still much paler than she remembers from before the hospital, but the man standing in front of her is indeed her boyfriend. Vivian doesn’t even feel herself moving but she’s suddenly shooting towards his proffered embrace. Matthew holds her back with strong arms, a sigh of relief escaping as he melts into her touch.

“Gross. You smell like weed.”

“And you smell like antiseptic,” she quips.

“Talk about a weird way to greet someone.”

“Fuck off, Tim.” Vivian flips him the bird, but she makes a mental note to thank him later. She turns back towards her boyfriend. “So you’re alive.”

Matthews nods with a smile. “Surgery went well, physical therapy has been a breeze. I got discharged a couple of days ago. Clean bill of health.”

Vivian scowls and pulls away from the hug. “But you never bothered to call?”

He just shrugs. “Well, you never bothered to visit.”

Her heart instantly sinks with dread, the lump in her throat hardening painfully. “Oh, god, I’m so sorry, baby, I should’ve been there. I was just so worried, and scared, and I wasn’t strong enough to see you--”

“Hey, hey, hey, no apologizing.” A hand comes up to brush away a stray tear on her cheek. “Look, I’m not mad; I’m just worried about you.”

“God, this feels like watching a teen drama.”

“Fuck off, Tim.” This time, they both playfully flip him the bird. Matthew wraps his arms back around her and rests his chin on her shoulder, humming softly as he plants a small kiss on her ear.

“So, I’m assuming we’re not on a break anymore?”

Vivian manages a wet laugh through her tears. “No, Matthew, we’re not on a break anymore.”

“Cool. I’ve also been talking to Tim. I think you should stop smoking.”

“Okay, I will. For you.” She feels like she would do anything for him.

“And you should get some therapy.”

“Okay.”

A small voice chimes in from behind. “I’ve literally said, like, both of those things before--”

“For the last time: fuck off, Tim.”

Matthew chuckles. “Hey, Vivi, can we actually still get those slushies, too?”

“Okay.” Vivian squeezes her boyfriend one last time before pulling away and drinking in the sight of his healthy, beautiful face. “I love you so, so much, Matthew.”

His eyes shimmer with a hint of mischief. “Yeah, yeah, me too.”

[tweekedout]

“Just, just hang on...”

send “Just, just hang on...” for my dying muse’s last words to yours.

tw: effects of long term drug abuse, dying young, 

They start dating again when Craig gets an apartment off campus and sends for him, hauling him away from his family and helping him build a legal case with Mr. Broflovski against his parents. The story makes headlines, all their dirty laundry is dragged out into the open and hung up for everyone to see - and despite what his parents had told him, he’s not vilified. His story is heard and repeated, talk shows and celebrities weigh in on the crime and the case is a god damn slam dunk.

But every day is a new fight, each moment a struggle. Getting clean isn’t a battle, it’s a war.  It tests their relationship in ways he didn’t think it would survive. Craig’s there when he gets the one month chip, and the six month, and the twelve - and there again when he has to start all over again at one, again and again. Setting his hopes and dreams aside in favor of supporting his boyfriend (now fiance, almost husband) and that hurts in ways that he can’t quite express. Craig’s schooling gets put on hold when he begins to get sick, he starts working at a dead-end job to try to support them both. They move back home, to be closer to a support system, into a little two-story house with cheap rent. And the winnings from the court case against his parents get shunted into mounting medical costs.

It’s all terrible. It’s all rotten. But for a time, despite it, they’re happy.

They’re supposed to get married in the summer, all of their friends and family (Craig’s family, Tweek’s send their regards from prison) have RSVPed. They’re supposed to have a life beyond this.

But previously manageable symptoms have become debilitating over the course of the last few weeks. The best place to be would be the hospital, but he’s terrified of hospitals. The stress is bad for him, mentally and physically, and an inpatient stay was quickly changed to (not palliative, Craig insists) care at home.

(In one particularly regretful argument he’d said what he was thinking, hospitals are a bad place to die and watched as Craig’s heart shattered into a million tiny pieces. Hopefully, one day, someone would be able to fit them together again.)

The stairs to their bedroom had become a mountain Tweek couldn’t climb.  Craig had no problems with carrying him up and down them, playfully saying he liked the chance to flex. But when he began to deteriorate further, it was clear it wasn’t safe for him to be up there. A bad fall had left him with a sprained ankle. He couldn’t remember what he was even doing to get himself to the bottom of the stairs.

The living room has become a hospital (hospital, not hospice craig insists) and Craig the full time staff.  Almost every part of Tweek’s body is suffering from the lifetime of addiction, and the last relapse hadn’t been more than a few months before. A transplant isn’t coming any time soon, the powers that be will send it to someone more deserving. They relocate him to a hospital bed in the middle of the room and Craig takes up residence on the couch, scaring away the worst of his delusions with his mere presence. 

When Craig’s at work, Kenny babysits. Or Kyle. Or, when he’s home, Token. All of them wear the same pinched smile - the one that says they know this is hopeless, that he looks worse every time they see him, but they enjoy what time they can get.

Reality and Tweek are becoming more and more estranged as his body begins to slowly fall apart, his mind giving out bit by bit as his brain begins to falter. He’s rarely awake, and rarely lucid when he is. He loses time, sees things that aren’t there - the Grim Reaper looks a lot like Kenny McCormick, and last Tweek looked he was waiting patiently by the door.

The power flickers. The wind is howling outside.

Craig’s on the phone, becoming increasing hysterical. The monotone is breaking and he’’s shouting at someone on the receiver, I already gave him that its not helping! I need someone here now.

Everything hurts. His eyes are wet with tears he doesn’t remember shedding. He feels like he’s on fire and utterly frigid all at once, wracked with shivers his body is too exhausted to have.

The latest episode of Red Racer is ending, the ending credit music is warm and cheerful. His eyes are closed, he doesn’t see he emergency news bulletin that follows lets them know that the  way to Hell’s Pass has been closed - the 911 call he’d placed isn’t going to be answered. And Craig’s hung up and called his mom (again) to come help him out, to do something, because Tweek’s getting worse and no he hasn’t signed the DNR yet please come please he’s in so much pain but the roads aren’t passable she already tried.

They need to keep him going until there are plows on the road. 

There’s a thunk and he knows there’s a fresh hole in the wall. Tweek barely registers the noise, only pulled out of the haze as Craig touches the side of his face with a cool glass and gently coaxes him to take his medicine, i know its hard to swallow babe but you need to work with me here. His voice more nasal than usual, eyes reddened by the hours of frustrated crying.

His eyes drift shut. The narrow hospital cot sinks in as his fiance climbs onto it with him.

The bed isn’t really big enough for two, but he’s been cold all day and blankets don’t seem to be doing the trick. It’s not so bad, Craig’s curled around him from behind, trapping his cold feet between his warm calves and trying to rub warmth into his swollen, numb hands. He should be at work but instead he’s here, desperately mumbling reassurances into his dying boyfriend’s messy hair. The top of his head is wet, and Craig’s breath hitches every now and again.

“I-It’s going to be okay... It’s okay...” He tries to squeeze his hand. Reassure him, but all the strength has left him. The world is faded at the edges, and even with a machine doing the hard work of breathing for him it feels hard to draw in air. He’s been in pain all day, they’ve been waiting for help - but it isn’t coming. He knows as the pain starts to ebb away that Craig’s given him an extra dosage of something to ease his suffering.

The only thing he can do in the face of it now.

Hang on. Hang on, just hang on. Each repeat sounds just a little more hopeless.

“F-For me, please... Be happy, okay?  I want you happy... You deserve to be happy... Please be happy... It’ll b-be spring soon, it’ll be warm soon..”

[omgrachwrites]

Ocean Avenue (Bucky Barnes)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC

Summary: When Darcie Baker - the daughter of a police officer - breaks her misfit friend’s heart at 16 she regrets it everyday even after she graduates though she knows she can’t go back and change what happened. Everything changes when over 10 years later she meets the gorgeous mechanic.

Warnings: fluff, swearing, teeny bit of angst

Words: 2092

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy this part! Please let me know what you think and if you would like to be tagged just shoot me an ask, I love you all very much! xxx

Part Eleven

Steve rolled his eyes as he reluctantly pulled himself away from Peggy’s lips as they were once again interrupted by the frustrated groan that had echoed all through the garage. Peggy smiled at Steve in an understanding way, running her hands up his chest to cup his stubbled jaw, pressing a kiss to his nose as he shot her an apologetic look.

“Go and see what’s the matter with him baby, he’s your best friend and he’s never been like this before,” she gave him a soft smile as she buttoned his shirt back up for him.

Steve chewed his lip, feeling slightly worried, Peggy was right, Bucky loved his job and he hardly ever got frustrated with it, there must have been more that was going on. He kissed his beautiful girl on the forehead, “I’m sorry gorgeous,” he whispered against her soft skin before he stood from the couch and left the back room.

He shivered slightly as he walked into the garage, chilly after being in the warmth of the back room; the weather was certainly getting colder with the changing of the seasons. Bucky currently had his head underneath the car he was working on. Steve kicked his leg lightly so that he wouldn’t startle Bucky too much and he would be less likely to cause an injury. Bucky pulled himself from underneath the car, a look of polite curiosity on his face, his eyebrows raised to the ceiling.

“What’s going on buddy, where’s the fire?” he chuckled, trying to make light of the situation but Steve could see the look of frustration and sadness in his eyes as Bucky walked over to his cluttered desk to get a drink of water.

“I really should be the one asking you that. What’s the matter? Why are you so frustrated? You’re never like this. Did you have a fight with Rose or something? You know that you can tell me anything.”

The mention of Rose’s name seemed to change something within Bucky, his light blue eyes suddenly turned glassy and he turned away from Steve abruptly, leaving Steve feeling slightly alarmed.

“Rose and I split up, or we’re on a break. I don’t quite know where we stand at the moment but it’s over and I’m not sure that we’ll be getting back together,” he started thickly, “I’ve lost the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.”

Steve’s heart lurched and a deep feeling of sadness ballooned in his chest, Bucky deserved so much better than this, “Bucky I,” Steve started but he was quickly cut off.

“That’s why you guys haven’t been coming out with us in the past months,” Peggy flinched back slightly as the two men gave her searching looks, “I’m sorry for eavesdropping, I was just worried about you Buck. I’m sorry about you and Rose,” she sighed and gave Bucky a hug; he gripped onto her like a little boy.

“Yeah, I’m so sorry man,” Steve started gently, “what happened between the two of you bud? If you don’t mind telling us that is.”

Bucky sighed and lapsed into his story, “it happened on that night we all went to the bar, you know when Darcie told us that she’d split up with Liam? Rose thinks that I’m in love with Darcie so she broke up with me, she said I needed to figure out for myself if I loved her,” he gave Steve a helpless sort of look, “over these past couple of months I’ve thought about it and I think I do, I do love her. Despite everything I love her; I think that I always have. What do you guys think?” he chewed his lip, watching as Steve and Peggy exchanged looks.

“Well,” Steve started, “in high school you always wanted to make her happy and too see her smile, even going out of your way to sometimes. Remember when she mentioned to us in passing that she preferred the coffee from that shop in the village miles away from school? You turned up late one day and got a detention just because you were getting her the coffee that she preferred. It might not have seemed much to you but it meant a lot to her and no other guys I know would have done that for a girl that they weren’t even dating.”

Peggy nodded in agreement, “it’s true, I remember her telling me that you nearly broke your hand by punching somebody who was rude to her. And remember when you wanted to throw hands with Liam even though Darcie was the one who ended it? If that’s not proof that you love her then I don’t know what is.”

Bucky dragged a hand through his sweaty hair and he nervously toyed with a rag of cloth, “I don’t know what to do, for the first time in my life when it comes to a girl, I don’t know what to do,” he muttered, feeling nerves bubbling in the pit of his stomach. He felt completely at a loss.

“Tell her man, that’s the only thing you can really do other than ignore it and you can’t ignore this, it’s causing you too much pain. Right babe?” Steve said, looking at Peggy for confirmation, he’d never been in a position such as this before.

“You should tell her,” Peggy confirmed, nodding eagerly, “she feels the same you know, she really loves you Buck,” Bucky looked at Peggy dumbstruck as he was rendered lost for words momentarily. Darcie was in love with him?

“I need to call her,” he said quickly, almost with a craze and he grabbed his cell phone from his desk and frantically dialled her number. Ignoring Peggy and Steve’s amused and smug looks he wandered into the backroom.

Darcie picked up on the second ring, “Bucky? Hey,” she greeted him, her voice full of surprise at the fact that he was calling.

“Hi Darc, are you at work? I really need to see you,” he anxiously waited for reply.

“I’m visiting my dad right now, why what is it?” she asked.

“Can I see you? It’s important, I don’t want to say it over the phone,” he chewed his thumb nail nervously.

“Bucky, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“Please? You know that I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important,” Darcie grew silent for a moment before she sighed in a defeated sort of voice.

“Fuck Buck. Yeah, okay but I’m warning you, it’s not a very good idea.”

Bucky ignored her warning and after they had said goodbye to each other he got a quick shower, got himself changed and left the garage, being sure to tell Steve and Peggy where he was going before he got into his car and drove to the home where Darcie’s dad was staying. He entered the day room where Darcie was sitting with her dad Andrew, her hair was unusually messy and her face was stark white. She looked up when Bucky grew closer, said something to her dad and quickly stood and hurried over to him. She looked to be so stressed that what Bucky had to say to her died in his throat.

“What’s the matter?” he asked as a frown grew across his face and she sighed, reaching down to link her fingers through his, squeezing them gently.

“It’s my dad,” she sniffled, “he’s lucid for the first time in a while; he remembers pretty much everything that he’s forgotten. Including you. He’s spent about ten minutes talking about how you’re a bad influence and that I need to stay away from you. The same old story really,” she looked at him sadly, “so whatever you need to say, please say it quickly before he notices you.”

Bucky stuttered and mumbled, unnerved by this new information but it was no use, Andrew had already spotted him.

“What the hell is he doing here?” he demanded, “and what’s he doing here with you? I told you to stay away from him.” Darcie sighed and led Bucky over to her father whose face looked like thunder.

“Dad,” Darcie started, sounding very weary, “I told you that Bucky has helped us out a whole of a lot and we should be eternally grateful that he’s here,” she said it with so much sincerity that it almost embarrassed Bucky, “he’s here to speak with me anyway.”

At Darcie’s words Andrew’s face twisted into an unreadable expression, “no, I need to speak with him, he has no business with my daughter,” he snarled.

Darcie let out a disgruntled groan that was followed by a sigh as her cell phone started to ring, “it’s the hospital, I really need to get back, they’d been calling non-stop,” she gave Bucky an apologetic look, “please try not to kill each other, see you later dad. Love you,” she planted a kiss on his cheek, touched Bucky’s arm gently and left the room.

Bucky went to sit down but Andrew’s growl stopped him, “don’t even think about sitting down, you’re not staying. All I want to know is what the hell are you doing with my daughter? I thought that you had learnt your lesson when the both of you were in high school.”

His words infuriated Bucky so much that he blurted out what he couldn’t tell Darcie, “I love her, I have done since high school before you ruined everything, if she feels the same then you can’t keep us apart. She’s not sixteen anymore.”

Andrew looked the angriest that Bucky had seen him but he didn’t care, when Andrew spoke it was deathly quiet, “I fear that she feels the same way about you. I will never accept the notion of you two together.”

“We’re not asking you to,” Bucky hissed and departed, leaving Andrew speechless for the first time.

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

Darcie was sitting in the gallery watching as Peggy and Carol scrubbed in for the kidney transplant, she was incredibly proud of her best friends but she couldn’t help but feel exhausted and despite herself she felt her eyes slipping shut. A couple of seconds later Bruce walked into the gallery, his deep brown eyes scanning the area until he found Darcie and he made his way over to her.

“Bucky’s here to see you, he’s in the waiting room,” he whispered to her, not wanting to disturb anyone.

Darcie felt a little bit surprised; it was surely the day for surprises, “okay, thanks Bruce. I’ll go and see him right away,” she stood from her seat and left the room with Bruce at her side.

She smiled as she saw the incredibly handsome mechanic sitting on the blue plastic chair that looked too small for him. His eyes were fixated on the floor, a look of worry etched onto his features, as soon as he heard her shoes squeak on the floor he stood up and gave her a smile that looked forced.

“Bucky, hey. Is everything okay?”

Bucky bit his lip and looked away from her for a second and Darcie could almost see the cogs turning in his head as he seemed to be having an internal battle with himself. Suddenly he blurted out words, “Rose and I broke up, about two months ago.”

Darcie’s eyes widened momentarily, she certainly wasn’t expecting this they looked to be a perfect match for each other and she vaguely wondered why he was telling her this, “Bucky, I’m sor-“she stopped short as he drew nearer and he cupped her cheek with a slightly cold hand.

“We broke up because I uh, I um,” he stuttered and grew silent for a second as he regarded her, before drawing her even closer to him and he kissed her so deeply it was like his life depended on it.

Darcie was shocked for a split second before she cupped Bucky’s cheek and kissed him right back, relishing in how perfectly their lips moulded together. Kissing him after so long felt like coming home. It felt like she’d been drowning and she’d just come up for air, she would happily drown in Bucky’s lips. He was pulling away much too soon, his lips slightly parted and red.

“We broke up because I love you.”

Darcie could have wept for joy, after all this time he loved her. After everything that had happened he was coming back to you, “oh Bucky, you’ll never know how much more I love you,” she whispered before claiming his lips with hers once more.

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

@void-imaginations @theonelittleone @thesswintersoldier @dreamacoholic @wavyjassy @harryngtonewithyourshit @iamariotgrrl @panic-naran

[thatwritingho]

Momento Mori

Chapter 1

Charles Foster Offdensen was a man who was devoted to his work. His main job was to keep the members of Dethklok safe and healthy, which is why he had called this meeting today.

Yes, his job was to keep them safe and healthy, whether they liked it or not.

And he was sure they were not going to like this.

Taking a deep breath, he cast a glance to each member, all in various states of distraction, with little regard for whatever it was he had to say, as per usual. He cleared his throat and prepared himself for the push back he was going to get. But it was for the best, for their safety and prolonged health, so he would grit his teeth and argue his point until they agreed.

"Alright, gentleman, given the, ah, recent events," his eyes flashed over to Nathan, who had only recently recovered from his liver transplant, "I think it would be prudent to, ah, be more aware and prepared as far as each of your health is concerned."

"So you, uh.. want us to to like, get more checkups and stuff?"

"Well, yes, Nathan, but ah, I was thinking something a bit more drastic than that is necessary."

He took another deep breath, bracing himself for their complaints.

"It would be in all of your best interests if we were to have a, ah, doctor with you. At all times."

Five pair of eyes shot to him in disbelief, mouths dropping and brows furrowing in confusion and growing anger.

"A doctor! For fucksh shakesch"

"Followin us all deh time? Like a damn babysitter or somthin?"

"We donts needs that!"

"Ja, we donts needs no babysitters like some small tiny babies what's cant takes care of himselves!"

Charles closed his eyes, taking another breath.

"Look, I know you guys don't think its necessary, but what if something were to happen to one of you, like what happened to Nathan, and you were somewhere where you couldn't see a doctor immediately? What if one of you were to suffer serious bodily damage and end up unable to play? It's best for us to play on the safe side of things."

They were all giving him skeptical looks, and seemed ready to burst into more protests.

"I'll let you pick who it is, and you won't even know they're there. You'll be free to continue doing whatever you want, I'll make sure they just stay on the sidelines and monitor, only interfering if its absolute necessary. Can you all at least agree to try it for a while?"

He was met with various grunts and groans, until Nathan spoke up.

"Fine, but it can't be some regular jack off like our other doctors. Someone really badass. Like uh, what are those people called? The ones who cut open dead people? And like pull out all their organs and stuff?"

Charles sighed.

"You mean a mortician? You want someone who works on corpses to be your primary care doctor?"

"Yeh, that'd be preetty sweet" Pickles chimed in. "Someone that's not gonna be a douche bag aboot, ya know, drinking and drugs and stuff too. They gotta be cool."

"Ya, can we gets a pretties ladys doctor whats cans take cares of us?" Toki stared off dreamily at the thought.

"Yeah! If we have to have schomeone around all the time, it can at leascht be a hot babe!" Murderface exclaimed, and the rest of the group piped in their approval. "And schesch gotta have a good schensche of humor too!"

"Ja, someone whats cans makes us laughs and whos cans pals around withs us," Skwisgaar agreed, fingers never ceasing gliding over his guitar.

"Alright, let me get this straight," Charles couldn't let the conversation diverge any further into the land of ridiculous requests, "you want me to find a, ah, attractive, funny, cool, female mortician? One who is qualified and capable of taking care of all five of you and your medical needs at all times? You do realize how unlikely it is that a person like that exists?"

"Well, you heard us. That's, uh.. that's what we want. If you can't find us someone who meets our, uh, requirements, you can forget about this whole stupid thing."

Nathan's words were said with a sense of finality, and Charles knew there was no way around it. If this is what it took, he would do his damndest to make it happen, to make Dethklok happy.

"Very well. I'll look into it."

He'd find a way. He always did.

.

"Well I'll be damned."

Charles took a sip of his bourbon, eyes scanning the monitor in front of him, nearly in disbelief at his discovery. There actually did exist a person who met Dethklok's ridiculous qualifications for a personal doctor, at least on paper. She looked promising, very promising, and he read over her file once more.

Born as a twin to a Mexican mother and Korean father, the first few years of her life seemed to be normal, until tragedy had struck in the form of a terrible house fire, leaving only her and her sister as survivors. They spent the next two years bouncing around to different foster homes, and had eventually been adopted by the illustrious billionaire Alastair Axworthy, the very Alastair Axworthy who's breakthroughs in the field of robotic prosthetics and androids had made possible Dick Knubbler's eye replacements and Dr. Twinkletits' new arms.

Charles had never met the man, but had heard he was eccentric to a fault, and it was rumored he adopted only the most intelligent children he could find, almost as more of a collection than out of a sense of philanthropy. From the looks of the rest of her file, she was no exception. Winner of the World Junior Chess Championship at only 11 years old, perfect scores across the board on all standardized tests, valedictorian of her graduating class of which she was the youngest at only 16, fluent in Spanish, Korean, Japanese, French, and German, holder of a Mensa card.

She had attended Columbia University's Vagelos College of Physicians and Surgeons, and speed tracked her courses there, graduating with full honors in half the time of a typical student. After that, there was little information on her until she began working in the morgue at a rather unremarkable hospital in New York City. It was intriguing, that drop in ambition, and Charles hoped to capitalize on that, knowing anyone would jump at the chance to work for Dethklok, but especially if there was as sizable a pay difference as there would be for her.

Scrolling further down, he glanced over her criminal record; underage drinking, a couple DUIs, a marijuana charge. Normally these would turn him off to a potential employee, but in this case, it was a bonus. Hopefully this meant she could better handle the parties and excessive drug use and drinking episodes the band would no doubt drag her along on.

And lastly, her picture. She was young still, at least by doctor standards, at only 27 years old, and fairly pretty. Tan skin, round face, dark eyes, pouty lips, multiple piercings in her visible ear, and hair styled into a long, curly, pastel pink mohawk.

"Olive Axworthy..." Charles took another sip of his bourbon, "I can't wait to meet you."

.

I actually started and finished a chapter! Unbelievable, I know. Next one will probably(hopefully) be up tomorrow. Also uploading on AO3 and ff.net

[piratekane]

august 31, missing scene (vanessa/charity)

A small missing scene set on the night of August 31, because I love Vanessa interacting with any Dingle there is.

The dull beeping from machines is lulling Vanessa into a sleepy daze, the last few sleepless nights getting the better of her. The magazine she’s reading is glossy under her hands but the words blur and she’s sure she’s read the same Inside Scoop! article more than once. She’s been quiet since she came in, explaining that Charity was on her way but Vanessa got tired of waiting for her. She glances up at Sarah, reading her own magazine, and smiles softly, blinking hard to shake the sleep from her eyes and trying to focus again.

“Do you get scared?” Sarah’s voice is quiet and Vanessa isn’t even sure she heard her speak.

“What’s that?”

“Do you get scared?” Sarah asks again.

“Oh, loads,” Vanessa says, her voice sharp and matter-of-fact.

Sarah frowns at the admission. “But you’re an adult.”

“Makes me more scared, I reckon.” Vanessa gives Sarah a soft, crooked smile and looks back down at her magazine.

“My Granny says you’re not scared of anything,” Sarah says after a minute. “She said you tried to start a fist fight with that copper who-“

“Your Granny has a big gob,” Vanessa interrupts. “And she ought to keep it shut more.” Her cheeks are slightly pink and she won’t quite look Sarah in the eye. She wonders who told Charity that - Harriet, she thinks. A bigger gob than anyone in the village. Charity’s never said anything to her about it.

“How did you do it, then?” Sarah presses on. “If you’re scared all the time?”

Vanessa shakes her head. ���That’s different, yeah? I’m scared of loads of things but I most scared of losing the people I lo- care about. And when that fear comes, the rest of it just... disappears.” Vanessa finally meets her gaze head on. “Quite like your mum and your Granny, innit? We’re all scared until losing the people we care about is the cost of fear.” She curls the corners of the magazine in her hand. “It’s why your mum is so brave, when she’s here. Because losing you is her biggest fear and the rest of it is worth nothing compared to that.”

Sarah chews on her soft swell of her lip for a moment. “S’that why Granny introduced us to Ryan? Because she cares about him and didn’t want to lose him?”

“Or you,” Vanessa adds. “Or Noah or your mum. She didn’t want to lose any of you.”

“I think it was dead brave of her,” Sarah admits softly.

Vanessa grins, wide and bright. “Me too.” She reaches out, resting her hand on Sarah’s. “I think you having this transplant is dead brave, too.”

Sarah shrugs a shoulder. “I’m mostly doing it for Mum. Because I’m...”

“Afraid?” Vanessa suggests, still smiling.

Sarah nods. “That she’ll never be okay if I don’t do it.”

Vanessa smiles just a little softer. “I know, darling,” she says gently. She squeezes Sarahs’a hand. “I know. It’s dead brave all the same, though.” She sits back in her seat, the magazine forgotten. “Now, tell me about that boy a few rooms down.”

Sarah groans and sinks back into her pillows. “Granny Charity has a big gob,” she mutters.

Vanessa just grins.

“I’ve what now?” Charity asks loudly.

The magazine slides out of Vanessa’s hands and she flushes slightly, reaching down to pick it up. Charity’s hand is on her shoulder when she sits up again, rubbing at a small knot under her fingers. Vanessa can feel herself lean into the touch, soaking up all the affection Charity gives her. It’s been so free the last few days, some of weight lifted from Charity’s shoulders now that everyone knows about Ryan.

Noah is still mad, a small voice says in the back of Vanessa’s head. She pushes it down and focuses on Charity’s hand, drifting to the base of her neck instead. They managed to get Noah around once; they’ll do it again. Even if they have to use Moses and Johnny to do it.

“You’ve got a big gob,” Sarah repeats, grinning. “Vanessa said so.”

Charity makes a face, pretending to be offended for a moment. Her shock wanes into something more dangerous and she smirks, her hip bumping against the outside of Vanessa’s shoulder. “Thought you liked that about me, yeah?”

Sarah wrinkles her nose. “Granny.”

“Oi,” Charity says sharply. “I’m much too hip to be a Granny.” She throws her hair over one shoulder and winces when something makes a low cracking noise.

“Hip?” Vanessa snorts. “Might need a replacement one of those, it sounds.”

“You weren’t complaining when I-”

“Granny!”

“Charity!”

Charity looks between the two of them, one corner of her mouth twisted up. “Still got it, haven’t I.”

Sarah shakes her head slowly, picking at some fuzz on her blanket. “Vanessa is scared.”

Charity frowns, sitting on the arm of the chair Vanessa is in. “Babe?” Her eyes harden. “What happened? Did Bails-”

“No,” Vanessa says quickly. She feels her cheeks burning and she swallows hard. “Sarah asked if I was scared.” She lays one arm across Charity’s thighs. “I am, of most things. Generally speaking, of course.”

“I said she didn’t seem it,” Sarah says. “And that you told me she wasn’t scared of anything.”

“Big gob runs in the family, I see,” Charity mumbles. “I only said it, babe, because you act like a bloody superhero most of the time.”

Vanessa’s hand curls around Charity’s knee, squeezing softly. “Easy to do when I’m around you. You make me feel brave.”

Charity rolls her eyes. “I think you were brave before I met you, babe. Everyone knows how you stood up to Pierce. How you stood up to me, too, at first.”

“Wore you down, did I?”

Charity winks. “Like a proper-”

Sarah makes a gagging sound. “Mum was right. You two are disgustingly loved up.”

Charity looks down at her and Vanessa grins quickly, letting her know she doesn’t need to say anything; that Vanessa knows the truth even if Charity can’t say it yet. But Charity stares back down at her, eyebrow furrowed in thought, and then she smiles slowly, pushing some of Vanessa’s hair back over her shoulder.

“Yeah,” Charity says quietly, her words for Vanessa only. “Yeah, we are.”

Vanessa smiles, her eyes going fuzzy in the corners again, and lets Charity’s hand burrow further into her hair.

[strangestdrabbles]

A Part Of You

A/N: This is the longest imagine I’ve written for this account. I hope it was good. I really enjoyed writing this. 

Pairing: Jonathan x Reader (gender neutral)

It started with the unexplainable exhaustion.

Y/N sat on the kitchen counter eating toast as the sun slowly rose, reading the last few pages of Pride and Prejudice for their English Literature class. It was when they finished and got off the counter to clean everything before leaving for the day that they noticed that Jonathan wasn’t with them. It was worrying but Y/N tried to swallow the feeling as they walked through the apartment and into their bedroom, their heart stuttering fondly as they saw Jonathan cuddled up in the duvet and surrounded by pillows.

“Jonathan baby, you need to wake up. We have classes today.”

There was a soft noise that sounded like something between a moan and a whimper, the boy slowly blinking himself awake and then bringing his hands up to rub his eyes. Jonathan sat up, confused as to why Y/N was standing next to the bed and looking down at him; a wave of tiredness washing over him.

“Babe what’s up?”

Y/N smiled softly, running their fingers through his hair and trying to coax him out of the warmth of their shared bed.

“You need to get up darling. We have classes today.”

--

Y/N and Jonathan went through the motions of their normal university day, parting ways for Y/N’s English Literature class and Jonathan’s Advanced Photography class. The weather was on the warmer side as Jonathan sat through the lecture, his coffee covered in condensation and his body relaxing with exhaustion. He went through the motions, able to take in information and take notes before realising that the hour had finished and it was time for him to pack up and leave.

Y/N was waiting outside of his class for him, their bottom lip between their teeth from worry as they saw the exhaustion clinging to Jonathan when they finally saw him. He was rubbing his eyes and yawning, only thinking about getting back to his and Y/N’s apartment to get back into bed.

Exhausted. That’s what he was.

Exhausted.

++

Next was constantly feeling cold.

He could see the sun shining prettily against Y/N’s skin as they walked on the sidewalk through New York on Saturday, finally glad to have some free time without university work getting in the way. Jonathan shivered as he held Y/N’s hand, pulling his coat tighter around him with his right hand to try and hold in warmth.

“Darling is everything okay? Why are you wearing a coat?”

Jonathan licked his lips nervously, trying to not think about how cold he was and how the coat wasn’t really doing anything.

“Everything is fine love. I’m just freezing. It’s a little cold isn’t it?”

Y/N looked confused, turning their head and looking at Jonathan. It was a warm day with a clear blue sky, the type of weather that you didn’t need a jacket for. Y/N’s heart hurt looking at Jonathan as he tried to wrap his jacket around him tighter. It didn’t make sense that Jonathan was wearing a jacket and also that he was wrapping is around himself tight. Y/N rubbed their thumb against Jonathan’s, the boy leaning over and kissing the crown of their head; a warmth that had nothing to do with the weather spreading through their veins.

“Jonathan it isn’t cold. It’s actually quite warm.”

He shivered, biting his bottom lip because the temperature on his body becoming quite painful. He felt stiff and like he couldn’t breathe as he and Y/N continued through the warm weather but unfortunately Jonathan couldn’t enjoy it.

He couldn’t enjoy the warmth because all the felt was a freezing ache.

++

He didn’t understand why he felt weak.

He stood at the stove in the kitchen making eggs while Y/N sat on the counter and kept him company.

“I’m so glad we have some relaxation time before exam season.”

Jonathan nodded with a smile on his face, making sure to keep an eye on the eggs.

“I was thinking the s-same th-thi-,”

He didn’t finish his sentence, spots appearing in his vision before he stumbled slightly over his own feet. Y/N was quick to get off the counter, wrapping their arms around his waist to steady him and stand him upright.

“Jonathan are you okay?”

He held onto the edge of the counter, blinking and trying to steady his vision.

“Y-Yeah I’m fine.”

Y/N got him a glass of water, turning the stove off and leading him to sit down so he could rest. He drank it slowly, thankful that he could finally concentrate on a simple task fully. He could feel his head still swimming but it was less, even if it was slightly; the dots clinging to his peripheral before fading. Y/N walked away, wetting a cloth and then walking back to rest it on his forehead. A shiver ran down his spine before be completely relaxed.

“Th-Thank you love.”

“You’re welcome darling.”

Y/N watched him, a concerned nag tugging at the back of their mind. It hurt to see the love of their life like that, weak and barely holding on but they knew that they would do everything in their power to try and help.

++

It turned out to be kidney disease when Y/N took Jonathan to the doctor after he collapsed in the kitchen. He was in hospital and the doctor stood at his beside with Y/N beside her. He was laying and watching them, silent and wondering.

“We will need to do a transplant due to the severity of the condition.”

Y/N nodded, not even hesitating on the decision.

“He can take one of my kidneys.”

“Are you completely sure?”

The doctor looked at Y/N then, wanting to make completely sure that they understood their decision.

“Yes I am. I would do anything for him. He’s the love of my life.”

--

Jonathan woke up to a numbness in his lower back as well as a tightness when he moved even slightly. He rubbed his eyes as the fluorescent lights invaded his vision, forgetting his location for a quick second before relaxing back into the hospital bed. He felt better, or as well as he could feel hooked up to an I.V drip and a blood bag; alone in a hospital room.

His heart hammered as he looked around, trying to locate Y/N to tell them that they’re awake and okay but before they could panic a doctor walked in.

“Hello Jonathan. How are you feeling?”

Jonathan’s throat felt dry but he forced himself to swallow and then answer.

“I-I um feel fine thanks.”

“That’s good. I just want to tell you that Y/N is also resting and recovering well from the surgery as well.”

It hit him then and he remembered, Y/N offering to help Jonathan with his health and wellbeing and being his donor.

“Can I see her. Please. I need to see her.”

The doctor looked at the nurse next to her, whispering between each other before looking at the distressed boy.

“We don’t know if that’s such a good idea. You need to rest and recover as you have gone through an intense procedure.”

“I need to see Y/N. I need to be with them. It will make me feel better and I will rest more efficiently.”

The nurse and doctor looked at each other again, whispering and then nodding before looking back at the boy.

“Okay. You can stay in their room. They have been asking for you too so I’ll go and tell them that you’ll be with them soon.”

The doctor left and the nurse walked over, helping him to maneuver the wires and cords to be able to stand up. It was a quick change from standing to sitting in a wheelchair then, the I.V drip and blood bag on an I.V pole for easy maneuverability while he was moved from his hospital room.

Y/N was sitting up and listening to the doctor go through how to keep the wound clean and how to adjust to life with just one kidney. They were about to ask a question when there was a knock and then the door opened to reveal a tired but happy looking Jonathan.

“Hey darling.”

It took a bit but before long Jonathan was comfortably laying next to Y/N, his head nuzzling against their neck. It felt nice to finally be together again after the surgery and the slow beginning of healing, The doctor and nurse left after checking their vitals and taking notes, the couple wrapped up in each other’s warmth while softly kissing and sharing soft sweet nothings.

Jonathan intertwined his fingers with Y/N’s, not wanting to be away from them at all.

“Hey,”

Jonathan looked up, blinking and leaving a kiss on the underside of their jaw before answering.

“What?”

Y/N smirked, “I’m now a part of you.”

Jonathan laughed, leaning up and kissing them softly on the lips. He was so glad that he was in their arms, surrounded by love and a feeling of home. It was quiet for a moment before the hospital room door opened and in walked Joyce and Will, their faces worried but when they saw the couple laying tangled with each other their bodies relaxed.

“J-Jonthan oh my god. I am so glad you’re okay.”

Jonathan looked and saw his mother and brother, a smile that was just a little too big for his face appearing and slowly he turned over to be hugged by his family. The two grabbed seats afterwards and sat at the bedside, talking and catching up with Jonathan while Y/N sat and listened; holding Jonathan’s hand.

“Y/N.”

Y/N looked at Joyce, blinking and then smiling.

“Yeah Joyce?”

“I want to say thank you. Thank you so much. Thank you for helping Jonathan.”

Y/N felt their heart fill with love and fondness, leaning down and kissing the crown of Jonathan’s head.

“I would do anything for Jonathan. He’s the love of my life.”