#when I stretch my back and sternum pop

[scrawlingwithstyle]

my skeleton is held together with overstretched rubber bands and a whole lotta hope

[strawberrystepmom]

umemiya x f!reader. reader is wearing a bathing suit. established relationship, very suggestive, mentions of marriage. | divider thanks to cafekitsune like always, wc 1k even.

The haze of summer has settled thickly over all of Makochi, the air almost heavy enough to wrap around you and wear it. A subtle sheen of humidity settles over your shoulders and face; cicadas sing their song in the distance and wind chimes tinkle when a breeze mercifully blows by to cool your heated skin. The heat can’t prevent you from being outside, though. You lie on your belly beneath the blazing sun in your stringiest bikini, legs stretched out behind you while Hajime cares for his personal garden - the one meant just for the two of you - atop his apartment building. He hums a little tune, occasionally throwing in a whistle for good measure to make you giggle at him while your cheek rests against your folded arms, watching his every move.

It didn’t feel so hot about fifteen minutes ago but now that you’re watching sweat dampen the back of his white t-shirt and cling to his body, you sigh dramatically and he’s at your side in an instant, ever in tune with whatever you need.

“What’s wrong?”

You glance up at him and smile, unfolding your arms and stretching them above your head, flipping from your belly onto your back to give him a view of the front of you, gentle grooves in your skin when you shift from how tightly your bathing suit is secured around you. He doesn’t hide his ogling, raking steel blue eyes from your throat to your belly button and to your thighs, wiping his hairline with his forearm.

“Wanna use those broad shoulders to block the sun for me for a few minutes?”

Hajime smiles and nods wordlessly at your request, taking a few big steps to the left to block the sun from getting in your eyes, casting a tall and cool shadow over your upper body. He wipes his hands together to free them of any dirt or grime from the plants, twisting his body to point them in the opposite direction of where you lie across a large old sheet, your sandals pinning down opposite corners to keep the breeze from blowing it up. Removing one of his gloves, he pops it in his pocket and reaches down to press his palm against your skin, hissing through his teeth.

“Hot even for you.” He raises a brow, wrapping up his perpetual fussing over you in humor to prevent you from insisting that he does too much. “You really do need shade, huh? Poor thing.”

“My hero.” You nod, putting a smile on his face. 

Umemiya sinks down, kneeling beside you and changing his shadow so that it covers even more of you, your thighs now cooled by the shade provided by his size. He drags his palm from your waist upward toward the triangles of your top, slipping a finger beneath the tiny string stretched across your sternum.

“Do you want to go inside?”

Glancing up at him, you bite back a smile and shake your head, his finger still gently toying with your top. You reach out to toy with him now, gently tugging at the damp collar of his shirt, dragging your palm down his chest.

“No, I wanna be out here with you. You’re hot too, we can suffer together.”

Neither of you are suffering very badly if the way each of you is glancing at the other is any indication of what's really happening here, eyes half lidded, fingers itching to explore sweat slicked skin. Hajime wants to spring into action and plan a way to grow an entire canopy over the roof to ensure you are never uncomfortable but he’s a little distracted at the moment, your hand sliding further down his torso and beneath the hemline of his shirt to rest against his warm skin and hardened muscle.

“What are you up to?” He asks with a smile. He drops from his squat position to sitting next to you, legs spread while he leans down to kiss your lips gently, as sweet as the breeze that ruffles the ends of his hair. “Besides making sure I get nothing done today.”

Giggling, you kiss him back. One set of fingers thread through his hair, brushing it back from his face in the style he prefers and the other drags down his torso toward the waistband of his shorts, playfully tickling him along the way.

“You just make the best umbrella.” You crane your neck to kiss him again, hand settling around the back of his neck to keep him close to you. “Maybe that should be your new name, Hajime Umbrella.” He chuckles and moves closer to you, lowering himself until his arms cage either side of you, his body twisted to hover slightly above yours.

“Then you’d just be Mrs. Umbrella someday but you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” 

You wiggle beneath him at the insinuation that you’ll be carrying his last name, something even warmer than today’s temperature pooling beneath your skin. Umemiya laughs and leans in to kiss you again, foregoing any sense of decorum to slowly slide his body over the top of yours. His thighs join his arms in caging you in, pinned to the sheet beneath your back, the sound of distant wind chimes carrying across the cloudless sky to mingle with your giggles.

“Come on Mrs. Umbrella,” he jokes again, sliding his hand up your side. “Let’s work out here a little longer and then we can go inside, alright?”

Your back arches in response to his touch. He takes advantage of the position, reaching into the small space between your back and the sheet to untie your top. He doesn’t immediately move it to expose you, allowing you to make that decision for yourself. 

“Sounds like a deal to me.”

You grin up at him until he envelops you in a sultry kiss, one that truly matches this summer heat, helping him remove his sweaty shirt an arm at a time and tossing it aside. 

[thegnomelord]

pls pls pls pls pls pls write something with hound getting a lil chubby during rehab pls i want to see him soft and comfy, being hand fed and cuddled. hound with a little tum from finally having not only enough to eat but enough rest to actually gain a little extra weight pls im in my knees characters getting a lil chub as a sign of healing my beloved

Okay here's a small brain fart for you:

You've gotten fat.

it's a rather egregious exaggeration, according to the two sergeants, but it's the first thing you think of when you look in the mirror. Your hard muscles still bulge beneath your skin when you flex, but now there's a layer of fat cushioning your frame — it smooths the planes of your abdomen, widens the circumference of your thighs and the breadth of your shoulders until you're popping the seams of your clothes, the layer of fat deepening the cleavage between your pecks whenever you cross your arms. Even your cheeks look chubbier than they had before.

You don't look like death warmed over, and you don't know how to feel about it. The psychologist says it's a good thing, your body finally figuring out it can slow down and focus on healing instead of constantly living on the edge of a knife.

But you just don't see it. It feels like you're regressing; Forgetting the harshness of the wild when you're collared and leashed by the fireplace, growing fat and lazy, complacent. A spoiled dog isn't loyal.

You let out a noise at the back of your throat when Johnny suddenly rushes into the small room you've been given, the door slamming open and closed. You don't have time to even say a single word before he's in front of you, "Hide me!" and then he's gripping your shit and pushing himself beneath it. Your frame is big enough to where you completely block him out, and his arms wrap as much as they can around your waist so he can cling to you.

You're rarely stunned to the point you don't know what to do, but this is one of those times.

A second later you hear a "MacTavish!" and loud footsteps rush down the hall, accompanied by loud swears and threats you can only assume are from Ghost.

Johnny waits still as a statue as the footsteps grow quiet, his breath washing over your skin from where his face is pressed against your chest. When they grow quiet he shuffles, a couple of seams popping in the already stretched out shirt until he pokes his head through the head hole of the shirt, resting his chin on the top of your sternum. "Thanks laddie, saved me skin there."

"Что блят?" Is the only thing your mind can force out, defaulting to Russian because you haven't been able to dig up your mother tongue from the grave the old you is buried in.

"Ah don't worry about it, the bloody dobber had it comin' with his bloody tea in chef Mike an' — Hmmm," His attention focuses on you, head disappearing beneath the shirt once again until only his stupid mohawk pokes out as his hands give an experimental squeeze at your sides, some of the fat getting trapped between his fingers. "Hey, have you gotten bigger? Ah could swear you weren't so fluffy before."

"That a nice way of calling me fat?" You feel the need to cross your arms, to hide the cushioning hiding your muscles. Ants gnaw on your skin where Soap touches you, his calloused palms sliding as far as they can and a strange sound rumbling in his chest when he registers that the space between both of his hands is indeed larger than it had been a couple of months ago.

"Nonsense!" He guffaws, "There's just more ta love." He hums, hands pinching the fat at your sides, evidently too content with your position as his human furnace to even think about detaching from you. "Oh yeah, you've filled out. Yae know hens love the dad bod, get some more hair on yer chest an' you'll be reeling the bucks in too."

"That-" You have to bite your lip when his hands suddenly shoot up to grope your pecks. He pushes them together and buries his face in the cleavage created. Your brain completely shuts off when he fucking motorboats you, shaking his head and making a sound right against your chest to the point you're sure you can feel the vibrations in your spine.

"MacT-avish!" The sound that escapes you is humorously high-pitched for someone of your size, your voice cracking as you feel your entire face grow hot.

He pokes his head back out like a whack-a-mole, a very pleased look on his face. "Yeeess?" He asks, sickly sweet. "Something the problem big man?"

"I-" You try, too many thoughts weighing down your tongue, "-You-" this time your voice cracks, "-why-" you hiccup, your lungs choosing this time to request air as you breathe in. You look in his eyes as best you can, but the way the sparkle makes it difficult for your body to stoke the flames of anger you've grown so used to feel. ". . . блят." You finally manage to say, your shoulders sagging.

He grins at you, his hands sliding down to pet the soft surface of your stomach, fingers pressing down to feel the hard muscle beneath the fat. "Aye, big bear of a fucker, you are." He grins and goes on his tippy toes, the shirt moving up with him before he lightly pecks your lips. "Yae look good like this."

"Yeah?" You grunt, trying not to show how the soft touch affects you but your ears feel like you'd dipped them into the pits of hell.

"Definitely." He's confident when his hands slides down to grope your ass, forcing another embarrassing sound from your chest. "Now how about we get some more food in yer belly? Make you the famous MacTavish pie."

[juletheghoul]

Ache

Gif by @userkeery

Authors note: It's 3:30am and I am posting Joel smut because just like all of you, that show ruined me. It's literally pwp because.. well you all saw it. lol. Hope you enjoy! (Thanks to my wife for literally talking me through this @foli-vora)

Pairing: Young Joel Miller x F!Reader

Word count: 800

Warnings: 18+ no minors, piv sex, dirty talk, creampie, feelings? let me know if I missed any!

Masterlist

-

He walked through the door with an air of determination, his mouth seeking out yours with pure purpose. He licked into it, barely giving you time to close the door behind him.

“Someone’s happy to see me.” Your words come out breathy, his passion flowing through him and now into you as you’re herded towards your couch.

“Been thinkin’ bout you all day, couldn’t wait to get here.” He punctuates his words by grabbing a meaty handful of your ass, low enough to pull the lips of your sex apart and it makes you gasp into his mouth. 

“Jesus Joel-“ he doesn’t let you finish, his tongue fills your mouth again and all you can do is try to keep up, your hands find the gap between his shirt and his jeans and you sweep your hands up the broad expanse of his back—lifting it up and off relishing the golden skin on display for you now. 

He grins and then your shirt is off and tossed onto the floor, your bra joins it soon after and within a few minutes you’re both naked and on your couch, mouths fused together, sharing the same panted breaths. 

“I missed you too.” You thread your fingers into his dark hair, guiding him towards your breast and he gifts you with a groan from deep in his throat, his tongue eager on the stiff bud of your nipple. 

He hums his acknowledgement onto your breast before moving to the other and his desperation is currently hard and weeping against your hip, sliding against your skin with every movement but he doesn’t get to it. Instead he keeps a steady suck at your nipple, moving from one to the other until you open your thighs underneath him, hoping he’ll slip in to soothe the aching emptiness he’s created.

“Come on baby, you gonna make me beg?” You tug at the dark waves of his hair, gasping when he lets your nipple go with a pop.

“I have half a mind to let you, love it when you beg.” He kissed your sternum quickly before grasping his cock in hand, giving himself a few strokes against the slick pooled at your entrance. “You think she’s ready for me?” He bites his lip, drunk on the way your hips tilt up to help him. 

“Yes Joel, put it in already.” He laughs at your tone, his dark eyes lively and lust blown.

“Yes ma’am.” He slides in with a moan. The smile morphs into something almost unfocused as he pumps himself slowly in and out, coating himself in your liquid heat before he speeds up. 

The stretch of him is exquisite.

You’d thought about him all day, waited with baited breath from the moment he’d called during his break, knowing he’d have you wet and mewling for him just like he always does and yet this is so much better than your daydream. It’s always better.

He shifts, kneeling on the couch and pulling your hips up with him. His big, calloused hands hold onto your hips with a grip hard enough to bruise but it doesn’t matter because his cock is pressing up against something sacred, something that makes your eyes roll back, something that lights a fire in the base of your spine. And then it strikes like lightning, a scream and a wet clench and you're falling off the cliff.

“You’re not even gonna make me work for it huh?” He’s triumphant, proud of the way he’s made you see stars but it’s not enough for him, he speeds up, fucks you through your climax and just when you think you might pass out he’s pulling you up to wrap your arms around his neck, grinding his come deep. 

-

Your hands slide across the smooth skin of his back, enjoying the press of his lips in the crook of your neck. Your legs are tangled up together, a rare cool breeze envelops you both as you catch your breath and savor the afterglow. 

“Where’s Sarah today?” You press the tips of your fingers into the knots of his shoulders, wanting to take some of the pain he complains about away.

“She’s at—oh, fuck that’s nice—the Adlers, Jesus Christ, right there-“ he winces but leans into it, letting you work the ache away. “I should get goin’ soon.” 

“Am I ever gonna meet her?” It’s not an uncomfortable question, with the way things were going between the two of you it was only a matter of time.

“Actually, yes. My birthday’s comin’ up. Thought it would be nice if you came over then. You can meet my shithead brother Tommy too.” He pressed a kiss to your jaw, moving to find your mouth again before he inevitably had to go.

“I’d love to.” 

-

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[sunnie-angel]

Part 4: The Plan

part 3 | series masterlist | ao3 link

jason todd x f!reader

summary: one step back, one step forward in this dance with jason’s warring desires for intimacy and distance

tags: swearing, UST, light angst

rated explicit (mdni) | wc: 2.7k

a/n: i’ve never experienced an american thanksgiving so all of my knowledge of it comes from pop culture. this is basically the last of my ‘set up’ chapters, so plot + relationship development is going to really hit their strides starting from here.

Jason is learning to live with the thousand pangs of guilt that go hand in hand with his determination to be your friend and only your friend. Guilt churns his stomach so often that it fades to just another background distraction. Every time you stiffen up when he pulls back, every time you try to catch your face before the disappointment can shine through, he sees it all. He should keep his distance, stop reeling you in close before drawing back unexpectedly, but he can’t quite manage it.

A more recent encounter is still seared into his brain. It plays behind his eyelids as he swims laps around the pool with Rei.

The two of you had been heading to the dinner two blocks off of campus after Duvall’s class, the fiery light of the sunset colouring the worn paths across the quad. Class had been predictably… painful. Reading it for his own purposes or for a group of students to discuss, Frankenstein has always struck a raw nerve. I am thy creature and I will be even mild and docile to my natural lord and king, if thou wilt also perform thy part, which thou owest me. Seen and made raw by a woman and her monster years in the past, and isn’t that just the rub? The world spins, new generations live and die and live again to be just as disappointing to the men that created them. Jason’s heart had ached behind his sternum and even the usual balm of your chatter had taunted him with everything he denies himself. He’d made all the right noises, kept his head down and hands jammed into his pockets as the two of you had finally made it to the diner.

“God I almost lost it when what’s-his-name in business started talking.” You’d snorted as you’d opened up your menu, plastic pages clinging together. “Like is it really so hard to have an ounce of empathy? We should start a list of worst takes because that had to be a top five. Jay?” Jason must not have been playing his part well enough because now you’re looking at him, too silent, too caught up on the long stale nickname. “What are you thinking Jay, because I’m thinking pancakes for dinner.” All he could think of is the one and only Dick took him out for pancakes. Begrudgingly. And how it had ended with Dick storming out, suddenly excited about hanging out with the Titans, only to come back disappointed when he had realized he was Jason’s only ride.

“Don’t.” It had come out low and mean, lobbed through gritted teeth like something hot and vicious. Jason had watched it hit you, the way you’d leaned back from the table and hunched your shoulders closer. “Just don’t call me that, yeah?” It had taken concentrated effort on his part to breathe, mimic loosening the tension in his body, to look smaller and non-threatening.

“Oh. Okay, Jason.” Silence had stretched out between the two of you, an almost tangible distance. The words to explain, to apologize and smooth things over had stuck in his throat. The fading light had caught your face for a moment, your face crumpling in hurt before shuttering closed. Your blank face was burned into his mind’s eye just as clearly as all the ways he had not repaired things between you.

Jason surfaces, water sluicing off of his shoulders, before going back under for another stroke. His body takes over the pattern of striking and breathing while his mind returns to the diner. There’s a small animal part at the back of his mind that’s wary of the water. Keeps a small part of him on the look out for any tinges of green to the liquid in the irrational fear that he might also come out of this body of water changed. Actually taking Rei up on his offer to go swimming was in some ways a punishment for Jason, adrenaline thrumming through his veins until his muscles flagged from exhaustion.

Rei is waiting for him at the entrance to the gym, water bottle half empty and lid still unscrewed. His glasses keep sliding down his still damp face but he grins at Jason anyway.

“You sure you’re not looking for a spot on the swim team? Because I’m sure the team captain would get the coaches to make an exception for you.”

Re-shouldering his duffel, Jason asks, “Now why would he do that?”

“I’d do it because I want one last trophy for the relay team.” Rei says wryly.

“No shit?”

“Yeah, I don’t really advertise it because I’ve been doing it for so long that I keep forgetting new people don’t already know I swim. But if you want a spot you’re in. You lapped me like what, four times?”

“Five,” Jason says sheepishly. “Not much of a team player, so I’m gonna have to turn you down.”

“Fair enough,” Rei shrugs. “But I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit. You probably dodged a bullet though, the coaches are hard asses about not drinking before meets.”

“Yeah, speakin’ of drinkin’, what the hell was in those drinks you made the first night.”

Rei laughs and the conversation takes a more lighthearted turn as they head across campus to the student union. It doesn’t take much to keep the conversation going so Jason has time to turn over Rei’s invitation over in his head. Jason would never have been able to accept — spackling over his extensive scarring for even just today had been a pain — but it had given him hope that maybe even after all his mishaps with you, that he might still be achieving ‘normal’.

Wednesday comes by and Jason makes up his mind to show up the weekly study session. With the Thanksgiving weekend coming up he’s got less work than ever but an even stronger desire not to be alone. Campus has emptied out in anticipation of the long weekend, the student union almost echoingly empty. Lina and Rei are already taking up a bench, sickeningly affectionate and dodging the balled up paper scraps Danika is tossing at them. You sit next to her, rolling your eyes at her antics then egging her on whenever Lina swoops in to leave another lipstick stain on Rei’s cheeks. He hesitates before committing to the seat at the end of the table nearest to you. The fresh loukoumades burning a hole in his bag will have to be shield and apology enough.

He’s nearly there, three feet out from his target, when the sound of a chair getting angrily out of the way diverts his attention. Will is dragging his bike through the field of chairs, cursing up a storm that has even Jason with all of his years in Gotham taken aback. Quite possibly its the most words Jason’s heard Will say out loud in the scarce months he’s known the man. The incongruity of the scene with who Will generally is as a person sends most of table into nervous half laughter.

“Will? Will what’s wrong? The biking parking finally full or something?” You ask, disbelieving.

“What the fuck does it look like?” He snarls, before throwing the bike to the ground in frustration.

“Hey—“

“Will, what happened?” Lina cuts Jason off, uncurling herself from around Rei and leaning forward. Her eyes are wide and searching, and in Jason’s opinion, not suspicious enough for the uncharacteristic rage on Will’s face.

“Some motherfucking cock sucking moron nearly ran me off the sidewalk in their piece of shit gas guzzler. That’s what happened.” He goes to throw himself into the seat next to you but Jason beats him to it, larger frame boxing him out. Throwing Jason an annoyed glance, Will slouches into the only seat left. He brandishes his coat clad arm in front of Lina and Rei, still thrumming with pent up energy.

“Look what they did!” He exclaims.

“I don’t think any of the bandaids in my bag are big enough for that scrape.” Rei says regretfully.

“What— never mind the scrape, look what they did to my coat!” He pulls the fabric tight across his wrist, shoving it under their noses. Rei and Lina give each other confused looks over Will’s head.

“There’s a lose thread?” Questions Danika.

“Yes! Thank you, yes! That idiotic jackass made me scrape up my Loro Piana jacket, do you know how much this costs?!”

“So,” Danika interjects, “won’t your family just buy you a new one and write this off for taxes or something?”

“That’s not— okay that piece of shit not only destroyed my jacket and put my life at risk but he’s also polluting with his mid-life crisis pollutant puker. You know there’s a reason Gotham ranks worst in pollution for cities in New Jersey? It’s thanks to people like that who don’t care that their cars are leaking oil and going knocking people — who are just trying to be nice to the environment — off of their bikes when they were just minding their own—“

“Report it to the police or campus security then.” Jason interrupts, before Will can get into the rant he’s building up steam for. “You got close enough to see the oil leaking, you probably saw the license plate too.” Jason pulls the loukoumades out of his bag and slides them over to you, keeping eye contact with Will the whole while. Will breaks eye contact first, pulling his perfectly intact black wool coat tighter around him before shoving his hands deep in the pockets. You’ve cracked open the container and let out a hum of delight. Will’s eyes dart to the table.

“Didn’t get it. How was I supposed to know that one minute I’d be riding along, and then the next I’d be traumatized for life by some inconsiderate brute?” He sulks. And oh, yeah, not everyone had grown up with B and all of his lessons on paying attention to your environment for evidence.

“Yeah, speaking of trauma, who’s got plans for thanksgiving yet?” Danika asks, mirth and humour her weapon against the atmosphere.

A sharp elbow knocks once into Jason’s ribs. He turns to look down at you, hoping your bid for attention won’t turn out to be disappointing. You meet his gaze with cheeks stuffed full of fried dough and honeyed syrup, eyes narrowed and considering.

“They’re not pancakes, but I thought you’d like ‘em anyway.” Jason says.

You swallow, before beginning to speak in a low voice, letting the flow of conversation continue around the two of you undisturbed. “If this is an apology, there better be more from where that came from.” Your small lopsided smile is sincere, but it doesn’t quite erase the image of your blank face from the dinner from his memory. Nodding, he goes to pull out the second Tupperware container that he’d had the foresight to prepare and you begin to lick the leftover syrup from your fingers. Jason’s vision narrows down to your thumb and forefinger, glistening in the fluorescent lights. He could swear his heart skips a beat when your pink tongue flicks out, his breathing certifiably irregular when you start to suck on your fingers. The image of your lips shiny from syrup will probably be engraved on his second headstone as the cause of death.

“—son, Jason.” Danika’s voice, high pitched and insistent, breaks the moment. He’d be embarrassed at tuning out his situational awareness if he wasn’t also scrambling to answer her half-heard question.

“No plans for me. My family and I aren’t really in a ‘gatherings and gratitude’ place right now.”

“Whoops, we’ll add your family to the off-limits list. What do you usually do then?”

Your phone starts buzzing, and you swear under your breath as you navigate sticky fingers and tight jean pockets.

“I just make a fancier meal than normal, watch the parade on the tv. Not much to it.” He replies off-handedly. He doesn’t mention the extra patrols he’ll do, in anticipation of one of the Rogues deciding to make a splash across holiday headlines.

“Sorry, I’ve got to answer this.” And already you’re trying to climb over Jason to get out from the booth and away from the table. It brings your face closer to his than it’s ever been and Jason would be trying to pin a name to the exact shade of your eyes if it wasn’t for the worry on your face. The nearly empty building means that you don’t wander far from the group. You pace as you listen to whoever is on the phone and play with the charm on your necklace. Will catches on to Jason’s line of sight and rolls his eyes, still sulking in his chair.

“So there’s a whole list, yeah? Things you don’t talk about?” Jason asks, trying to distract himself.

“Oh I wouldn’t call it anything so official.” Lina dismisses.

“No but we totally should!” Fires back Danika. “It would make things sooo much less awkward if Jason knew not to bring up just how much money Will’s rolling in, or the fact that Rei hates talking about the team right before a swim meet, or that when she,” and here Danika lowers her voice and nods in your direction, “plays with her necklace on a phone call fifty bucks says it’s someone from her family.”

“Got it, no askin’ her about the secret phone calls.” Jason says with a tight smile.

“Oh it’s nothing super secret.” Danika leans back into the corner and waves a lazy hand. “Just that most of them were dead set against her doing English instead of some ‘useful degree’ like pre-med or engineering. Don’t know why though, I don’t think’ I’ve ever met anyone that hates calculus more.”

But Jason, Jason thinks he does know why. Puts together the little pieces of your past you’d entrusted to his scarred hands and looks to the shared weft of your past. Looks at a girl whose family had scraped and fought to make a life untouched by poverty in a city that doesn’t easily forgive, and knows that it took luck and bone wearying effort to make it out of the Alley’s clutches. He looks at the girl who is used to being told her opinions don’t matter and yet believing in them anyway, who has put together a path leading right to her dreams even if the detours take her back to the place her family was happy to leave behind. Jason looks around the table at these fresh faced kids in their $6000 jackets and knows that none of them understand the constant, cavernous fear that all of the little luxuries they take for granted will suddenly disappear like morning fog. Jason knows the kind of courage it takes to push past that dogged fear and refuse the path your family pushes you down in order to achieve loftier goals.

The conversation has moved past him now, wrapped in his reverie. Rei and Danika have devolved into the kind of hardline negotiation Jason would have expected to see between seasoned lawyers rather than undergrads.

“C’mon Danika, I know you want a Pinterest worthy friends-giving but it’s just not going to work out this year.” Rei chides. “There’s just no time that’s gonna work for all of us.”

“Yes but it’s our last year when we’re all for sure going to be in the same place for the holiday weekend!”

“Look, we should all be free the Friday after the long weekend. We’ll do another night out, me and Lina will host the pre, and it’ll be our version of friends-giving. I’ll even make turkey themed cocktails if you want.”

“Gross! Fine, fine.” Danika most definitely does not whine. “But make them pumpkin pie themed cocktails instead.”

Jason’s got half an ear on the conversation, but continues to study you as long as his input isn’t needed. You sigh and seem to deflate as your call ends.

“So boys, are you ready to see the damage Rei can do when he’s got his full bar cart with him?” Lina asks, coy as anything. “I’m sure he’ll be able to make something that will even get you dancing, Jason.”

You shuffle around Jason, trying to squirm back into your bench seat. For a brief moment, your thighs bracket his.

“If that’s the plan,” Jason breathes out shakily.

Part 5

[watchmegetobsessed]

EARLY MORNING

A/N: just a bit of cuteness i thought of, enjoy!

WORD COUNT: 527

SUMMARY: Early morning snuggles in bed.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

You’re not typically an early bird, staying up late usually results in snoozed alarms and sleepy snuggles until you really have to leave the comfort of your bed. Today however, you’re up early and it’s probably because Harry is finally home and you feel like you shouldn’t miss any moment you get to spend with him before he needs to get back on the road.

Your boyfriend is sprawled out on his back, one arm above his head, the other one tucked under the pillow your head is resting on. The sheets has ridden down his torso, revealing the deliciousness of his naked chest that’s rising and falling in a slow, peaceful rhythm as you watch him while lying on your side, taking in his beauty.

During the time you spend apart from him you always try your best not to dwell on how much you miss him, but whenever he is back home you realize just how badly you ache for his closeness when he’s away and how you never want him to leave again.

For a while you just look at him, admiring his side profile, his many tattoos, the gentle stubble on his face and the cheeky chest hair you’ve grown to love so much. But soon enough just watching is not enough, you can’t help but move closer, his butterfly tattoo pulling you closer like a magnet until your lips meet with it, peppering it with gentle, tiny kisses. Your hand wander up and down his side, then over his chest and to the base of his neck, fingers dancing along then chain of his necklace playfully.

You notice the moment he wakes up, you feel the change in him and you smile to yourself when he takes a deep breath and then you just keep kissing all over the butterfly. His left hand comes up to the back of your head, tangling through your hair.

“Good morning, Handsome,” you murmur against his soft skin, brushing your nose against his sternum.

“Mm, good morning,” he smiles, his eyes still closed as you push yourself up and your lips finally meet his in a sloppy, lazy morning kiss. “You’re up oddly early.”

He is usually the one to wake up first, sometimes he even goes for a quick run before you even pop an eye open. He doesn’t mind starting his day before yours, he often makes breakfast for the two of you and then maybe have a shower together. Mornings like that are your favorite.

“I know. Guess I was missing you in my sleep,” you hum, smiling against his lips before you lay your head on his chest and he wraps his arms around you.

“Is that so? Does it happen often?” he asks as he plays with a strand of your hair.

“All the time.”

“And what do you do then?”

You smile cheekily and rest your chin on his chest so you can look up at him.

“Do you want me to tell you or… show you?”

He looks down at you with hooded eyes as a smirk stretches across his face, his hand sneaking underneath your top, coming in contact with your naked skin.

“The latter. Definitely the latter.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[noturlondonboy]

Up in the Night//Bishova sick fic

Pairing: Kate Bishop x Yelena Belova

Summary: Kate wakes up in the middle of the night with a fever.

Warnings: not proof read because my head hurts and I don’t care, established bishova, illness, vomit, general inckiness that comes with being sick, but also fluff so like, Kate being a big baby, I love her so much

A/N: I have Covid so I decided to project and write my girls having a hard time. i just wanted them to take care of each other. I hope you enjoy <3 also ps pretty please send me asks I am a tad bored (pps fabled smut shot and ask game prompts coming soon)

——

When Yelena’s eyes crack open in the middle of the night, she’s unsure of what’s awoken her. She blinks sluggishly into the darkness of her bedroom, a groan escaping her mouth as she slowly stretches her arms out above her to relieve the tension in her elbows. The bones popping send a sharp click around the small space, and the noise triggers a shift of movement to her right.

Kate. That’s what woke her up. Yelena squints, her mouth pulled into a frown as she sits up, rubbing at her eyes. She can see the outline of Kate’s shoulders from where she sits on the edge of the bed, the dim light of her phone charger casting her skin in a pale glow.

“Katie?” Yelena mumbles, her tongue thick with sleep. “Are you okay? Why are you up?”

Kate doesn’t respond, only lets out a soft noise of distress. Her head is tipped down, and Yelena scoots closer, expecting to see tears on her girlfriend’s face when she rests a gentle hand on her shoulder and tilts her close. She finds no such thing- Kate’s eyes are glassy but dry, her lips pulled into a soft pout and eyebrows furrowed.

“Darling?”

Kate groans and looks to her, her shoulders curling in as one of her hands weakly presses to her stomach. “Don’ feel good,” the archer mumbles, her words slurred. Yelena frowns slightly and presses the back of her hand to Kate’s forehead. Her skin is warm, but it doesn’t burn. “T… tummy.”

“Your tummy hurts, baby?” Yelena echoes, her voice a gentle coo as she carefully pulls the covers off of her legs and gets out of bed, squatting in front of Kate. “Can you tell me what else hurts? Anything besides your stomach?”

“Throat. Head.”

Yelena nods, her fingers rubbing over Kate’s bad knee in slow, gentle motions. The raspiness in the brunette’s voice that she thought had been from sleep may be a sore throat. “Okay, honey. You’re feeling pretty shit right now, huh?”

Kate’s chin dips, her bottom lip trembling as tears gather in her eyes. Yelena murmurs softly to her and stands to kiss them away, and Kate leans into the touch, her body sagging. “Feel so crummy, Lena,” she whines, shoulders pitching.

“I know, detka, I know,” Yelena murmurs. She cups Kate’s face and cradles her cheeks close, stroking a hand through her hair. Even if her skin wasn’t warm enough for concern, the archer was still sweating, with dark strands sticking to her brow. “Oh, poor girl. Small fever, maybe, huh?”

Her girlfriend only whimpers, glassy eyes closing as she rests her head on Yelena’s sternum. Yelena wraps her arms loosely around Kate’s shoulders and rests her cheek on warm hair. “Got you, baby, it’s okay.”

Kate whimpers again, the sound weak and defeated. After a few moments, she suddenly pulls away, standing to her feet and starting to make her way to the door, body wobbling.

Yelena quickly grabs her hand to keep Kate steady, following along. “Where are we going, darling?”

“Toilet,” is all Kate slurs, her hand clutching tighter to her stomach now.

Yelena nods, understanding as she frowns softly. Kate all but collapses onto the cold tile floor when they reach the bathroom, her knees hitting sharply and making them both wince, but the archer is more concerned about getting the toilet seat up and hanging her head over the porcelain lip. She groans lowly, eyes fluttering before scrunching up, spit dripping from her lips as her mouth waters with nausea.

Gently pulling her hair from her face, Yelena coos softly, her hand running up and down Kate’s back once she’s managed to secure the dark waves into a low pony. Kate melts into the touch, the tension in her body loosening a bit.

“Dinner isn’t sitting very well, huh, baby?” Yelena says lowly, settling herself on the edge of the tub next to her girl. She keeps her hand on Kate’s back, frowning softly at the sweat soaking through the fabric of her sleep shirt.

Kate nods weakly in response, her face tightening again as she pitches forward and gags, only spitle coming from between her lips. She dry-heaves a few more times, her groans getting more and more frustrated until she’s crying, the sound keening and without rhythm.

Yelena just keeps rubbing her back, occasionally letting her fingers scratch the back of her neck while she coos and murmurs soft words to her. “I know, sweet girl, I got you. You’ll feel better in a second. It’s okay.”

Kate finally manages to empty her stomach after a few more sluggish, dizzy minutes, her sobs broken by choked gags as vomit and tears fill the toilet bowl under her. Yelena whispers to her encouragingly, routinely flushing the toilet until the water stays clear, and Kate leans back, her chin trembling.

“Think you’re done, baby?” Yelena asks, wiping her girlfriend’s mouth and nose with a square of toilet paper. Kate nods after a moment, a low whine in her throat, but she manages to stand when Yelena carefully helps her up. “Okay, myshka- let’s brush your teeth, get some water.”

Kate protests weakly for only a moment before she lets Yelena sit her down onto the closed toilet, the blonde gently holding her chin and popping her toothbrush into her mouth. She’s methodical and gentle as she carefully cleans the archer’s teeth, mindful of her tongue and cheeks. When she’s finished, Yelena helps Kate back to the sink, and once her mouth is rinsed out and no longer tastes like garbage, she sags into the blonde’s warmth.

Yelena holds her securely, slowly swaying back and forth as Kate clings to her. They stay that way until Yelena kisses the side of her head and her lips come back burning, and she pulls away a bit in order to press the back of her hand against Kate’s forehead.

“You’re burning up, darling,” she murmurs, pulling her hand away with a small hiss. Kate whines pitifully in response, her head dropping onto Yelena’s shoulder. Pesky fever, rising so fast. “Okay, sweetheart, it’s okay, you’re okay.” Yelena cards her fingers through Kate’s hair gently, thoughts swimming. “Let’s get you into a cold shower honey, then some medicine once your stomach has had enough time to settle, okay?”

Kate shakes her head in response to the shower, but the motion stops almost immediately when pain shoots through her nerves, and all she can manage to do is cling tighter to Yelena with a weak sob. The blonde coos to her softly, holding her close for another few minutes before the heat radiating off of Kate’s body becomes uncomfortable for both of them and therefore impossible to ignore.

“Come on, darling, I’ll get in with you,” Yelena murmurs, stripping her own clothes off before carefully helping Kate out of hers. The archer’s skin is red and clammy and hot to the touch, and she protests weakly when Yelena turns the water to cold, but ultimately, when her girlfriend slowly coaxes her in, they manage to end up under the shower head together.

Kate is shivering violently while clinging onto Yelena, her head leaned down to tuck into the blonde’s shoulder. The water isn’t freezing, just a bit below room temperature, really, but she hates it all the same. Normally Yelena would agree with her- pulling herself from her warm bed and ending up here was less than ideal, but she knew that Kate needed to cool down.

“I got you, honey, it’s okay,” she murmurs, stroking her fingers over the ridges of muscle and bone along Kate’s back. “I know it’s cold, you’re doing so good. It’s gonna feel better soon.”

Kate’s shivering dies down when the assassin turns the water a little warmer, but she doesn’t let them stay there for long, not wanting to give Kate’s fever an excuse to climb back up again. She’s quick to get Kate dried off and into clean clothes before following suit herself. When she checks Kate’s head again, she’s still warm, but not enough for Yelena to throw them back in the shower.

Kate’s feet are dragging when they finally leave the bathroom, and Yelena watches her sway haphazardly for only a second before maneuvering the archer into her arms. Had Kate just gone limp in her hold, they surely would have toppled over, but she shifts her weight forward into Yelena’s chest and wraps her arms around the blonde’s neck, pressing her warm nose into soft skin and letting out a keening whine.

“I know, detka, I know,” Yelena soothes, arms straining slightly as she walks them back to their bedroom. “I got you.”

She has to physically peel Kate away from her in order to get the woman comfortably into bed, but her whines and cries pull Yelena back quickly once she’s managed to grab the Tylenol from the cabinet.

“Shhh, Katie, I got you,” Yelena coos, brushing Kate’s damp hair from her eyes and propping her up on the million squishmallows on their bed. “Let’s get some Tylenol in there, okay?”

Kate gives a weak nod and whimpers again, but her mouth falls open for the pills and glass of water in Yelena’s hand. They go down without much fuss, but the archer winces at the swallowing motion, her eyes blinking sluggishly.

“There you go, good girl. So good.” Yelena sets the medicine bottle aside and cups Kate’s face, checking her forehead again. Still good. “Are you hungry, baby? Do you wanna try for some crackers?”

The brunette shakes her head and slumps back into the mass of pillows, feebly reaching out for her other half. Yelena climbs back into bed with her, cradling the archer to her chest and running her hands through her hair and over her warm face tenderly. Kate lets out a little sigh, melting into her cool touch. A small whimper sounds in her chest, but it dissipates quickly when Yelena holds her tighter, her arms pressed securely between their chests.

“I love you, baby, it’s okay,” Yelena murmurs to her, humming low in her chest. Kate nuzzles closer to the sound, her warm nose pressed against the blonde’s sternum. She shifts around for several minutes, tossing and turning in an attempt to get comfortable, and after a few long moments of soft whining and labored breaths, Kate finally relaxes completely, her chest rising and falling in a steady beat.

Yelena watches her for a few seconds before allowing her own tired eyes to close, her lips pressed firmly to Kate’s head and arms wrapped securely around her middle.

Hopefully her girl would feel better in the morning.

[thana-topsy]

I’ve lost count of who all has tagged me in a WIP Wednesday post, so THANK YOU all my beautiful tesblr buddies. I was very busy yesterday, and today was hectic as well, so I’m rolling in late.

I’ll double whammy my wips and include some art and some writing. The brainrot continues, and I believe it to be terminal at this stage.

Urag with an undercut. Urag With An Undercut.

And here's a snippet from the fic I'm currently working on featuring these guys again some more:

---

“Thought I might find you up here.”

Enthir took another long drag from his cigarette, his eyes trained on the lights of Winterhold, winking like distant stars across the dark chasm that separated the city from the college. He exhaled, the wind snatching away the smoke as soon as it left his lips. “Were you looking for me?”

Urag leaned against the wall to his right, upwind. “It’d been a few days since I’d last seen you slinking around the grounds.”

“Business in town,” Enthir said by way of explanation. “Been staying at the Hearth.” 

He saw Urag study his profile out of the corner of his eye, but Enthir didn’t look at him. “There’s more to it than that.”

Fuck you, old man, Enthir thought. He sighed and put the rolly out on the stone wall before flicking the butt over the side, watching it fall down into the darkness. “Got a visit from an old… friend.” He tongued the inside of his cheek. “Troubling news.”

“It never ends, does it?” Urag said with a sigh.   

“Apparently not.” Enthir arched his back, stretching until his sternum popped. “I’ll tell you more. Inside, though. Not gonna freeze my nuts off over all this.”

Urag followed Enthir back to his cramped quarters in the Hall of Attainment. He wasted no time making himself at home in one of the chairs, toeing off his boots and propping his feet up on Enthir’s bed. Enthir paced around the room, organizing some of the bits and bobs he’d left lying around—shuffling papers into stacks, dropping loose jewelry into various boxes. 

“I’ve long known the Guild has been going through hard times,” he started to explain. “Thanks to the near-endless business of our colleagues, I don’t have to rely on them as much as I used to. The new Arch-Mage had me nervous for a while there, but I think we’ve reached an understanding.”

“Wickwing is no Savos,” Urag agreed. “But she’d make an enemy of herself if she tried to push you out of the college. She’s smart enough not to mess around with the established order of things, so long as it’s good for the school.”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” Enthir muttered. 

“Did you step away from the Guild when it started going downhill?”

Enthir paused, looking down at the book on the top of the stack in his hands: The Nightingales by Gallus Desidenius. “You know when I stepped away from the Guild. And why.”

Urag grunted, but said nothing else on the matter. “So why’s their business your business all of a sudden? Just wash your hands of them. You’re doing them a favor, the way I see it. A fence this far north?” He clicked his tongue in lieu of finishing his sentiment. 

“That’s where this friend comes in.” He shoved the books one by one onto the shelf over his desk. “Karliah.”

“Karliah.” Urag repeated the name, as if thumbing through the dusty catalogs in his mind for the association attached to it. “Ah, right. Gallus’s woman.”

A needle of pain in Enthir’s chest made him wince. “Yep.”

“Didn’t she–?”

“Nope.”

Urag grunted again. “Well, that certainly shakes things up.”

[zhongster]

Nanami discovering his S/O is into burps and teasing them?

Hi there anon thanks for supporting my Nanami bender ily 😭

This is a part two to my last nanami fic 🤭

There isn’t a toooooooon of teasing but i put some in there I hope you like it :)

Also the reader is afab in this one as this is highkey self indulgent and I’m afab, I usually try to keep it as ambiguous as possible but there are some specific elements that I wanted to include in this one for my own enjoyment 😭🤚

THIS IS KINK CONTENT, DNI IF YOU DON’T LIKE IT

‼️NSFW WARNING‼️

Neither you nor Nanami had mentioned what’d happened just three days prior. That night he had simply risen from the bed to clean you up and then rejoined you under the sheets to allow you to fall asleep with your hand resting on his softly gurgling belly.

You weren’t entirely sure what’d happened yourself. It was as if your body had hijacked your brain and you were pretty certain that you would have found anything he had done in that moment unbearably attractive. That being said, you were more than eager to repeat the experience and explore more of this new interest you’d found yourself wrestling with.

You were trying to work up the courage to broach the subject with him but he beat you to it when he arrived home from the liquor store with a high-end bottle of champagne and eyed you inquisitively. He didn’t speak as he stretched his arm up to the kitchen cabinet and grabbed one of the pristine champagne flutes. He caught your gaze as he popped the cork out of the bottle and poured the carbonated alcohol into the flute without breaking eye contact.

He slowly raised the glass to his lips and drained the entire thing in one go. He placed the glass back on the counter and raised a hand to massage at the mounting pressure behind his sternum. His chest seemed to hitch for a moment before he brought his hand up to cover his mouth as a long, wet belch rolled out of him. He blew the air to the side and finished with a “please excuse me.”

He continued to watch as sweat began to bead at the back of your neck and you squirmed in place. Arousal curled deep inside your belly when he finally spoke: “I thought as much.”

That caught you extremely off guard. “You what…?”

“I just wanted to confirm something.”

His eyes scanned over your body for a moment before he reached for your hand. With his unoccupied hand he grabbed the neck of the champagne bottle and the stem of the flute before leading you into the bedroom. “Help me?” He asked.

You didn’t need any more encouraging. You began to undo the buttons of his shirt one by one until the garment was hanging completely open, exposing his bare chest and stomach. You then turned your attention to his waistband and deftly unbuckled his belt before sliding it out of his belt loops.

You gripped the waistline of his dress pants and boxers and gave a sharp tug until they were left in a pile on the floor. Only moments later, your underwear joined the ever growing pile and you pushed him into a sitting position at the end of the bed.

You pulled the champagne bottle from his grip and carefully filled the flute as he held it out for you. Setting the bottle down on the nightstand you climbed into his lap, straddling his hips. You gently intwined your fingers in his soft hair and tipped his head back, bringing the teeming glass to his lips as he began to drink.

He went to pull away for a moment but you stopped him. “Drink it all honey” you urged.

He dutifully obeyed and finished off the glass before his eyebrows drew together in a look of discomfort. You knew what was coming and immediately captured his lips in a kiss.

The champagne bubbles made their way back up his throat and he belched openly against your lips. You pulled away with a heavy pant as he breathlessly excused himself and got up to fill the champagne flute once again. On your way up, however, he grabbed your wrist “just bring the bottle.”

You obeyed and left the flute abandoned on the dresser as you settled yourself back on Nanami’s lap. You brought the neck of the bottle up to his lips and urged him to drink. He managed to swallow a good quarter of the bottle before pulling away and wincing.

He gave a startled hiccup before a small strained burp escaped him. He braced his hands on your hips and ducked his head against your shoulder as a much longer burp shook him. He seemed to recover from this brief fit after a moment and looked back up at you with bright red cheeks that matched your own.

You ran your thumb over his cheek as he let an equally long burp echo in his closed mouth. “Do you think you can manage a bit more?” You asked.

He nodded and you lifted the bottle up for him once more. He only managed a bit more before he pulled back. “I don’t think I can drink anymore.”

“That’s okay honey, you did so well.” You praised.

Setting the bottle on the ground, you carefully slid yourself onto him. You began to slowly oscillate your hips as he wrapped his arms tightly around your waist.

The carbonation finally began to make its way up as Nanami buried his face in your chest, face pillowed on your breasts.

You felt more than you heard him let out a heavy belch against your skin, causing you to let out a sharp gasp in response.

You moved your hips faster, the straps of your dress falling around your shoulders. This increase in movement resulted in your body bumping up against his packed stomach and forcing an even more aggressive belch into your chest.

You roughly grabbed onto the back of his shirt with a whine as your orgasm overwhelmed your senses. This seemed to push him over the edge and he too went rigid against you with a wave of pleasure.

The two of you sat in one another’s embrace for the moment, attempting to catch your breath. Eventually, you eased him back onto the bed and captured his mouth with your own in a gentle kiss.

He apparently wasn’t done, however, as he gave a small hiccup and released a deep burp into your mouth. He seemingly hadn’t been expecting it as he immediately pulled back with a look of embarrassment.

You snorted, “You trying to go for round two already?”

He just lightly chuckled and pulled you back into his embrace.

[clarepreed]

Experimental

Story Content and Summary - 4,373 words. When Nathan's wife has a heart attack during sex, he is asked to participate in an experimental resuscitation procedure developed at the nearby research hospital. Explicit sex, on-site and hospital resuscitation, intercourse with a person who cannot consent.

--

“Oh, God!” Jessica threw her head back, eyes rolling. Her legs were spread wide, toes curled, her hand working furiously at her clit. Nathan thrust into her, hard, knowing she was close and that he wasn’t far behind.

She was panting and moaning, her free hand balling into a fist and pressing against her own chest. Her hips matched his thrust for thrust.

“It’s so good, it hurts!” she exclaimed, breathless.

This confused him, but she still seemed into it so he leaned over and kissed her, plunging his tongue into her mouth until she pulled away and gasped for air. At the same time, he felt her walls begin to spasm, the muscles rippling against his dick.

It was probably the most intense orgasm he’d ever observed; her eyes rolled back in her head and she stiffened, making a croaking noise.

Then she went limp.

Nathan continued to pump into her, his own orgasm close. He reached down and cupped her cheek, chuckling a little at how thoroughly wiped she was. Then he leaned in to kiss her.

To his surprise, she was unresponsive, her lips unmoving beneath his. He stopped thrusting his hips and patted her cheek. “Babe? Jessica?

Then he grasped her shoulder, shaking her. “Jess!”

Her head lolled, but she didn’t respond. Nathan withdrew and crawled to her side. “Jessica! Jess, babe, are you okay?!”

He shook her again. “Can you hear me?”

His erection softened as concern gave way to fear. She looked very still, her muscles completely relaxed as he shook her. Nathan put his hand on her face and tipped her head back, leaning his ear close to her mouth.

Several long seconds passed with no breath stirring against his cheek. He pressed his fingers into her neck, waited. There was no reassuring pulse against his fingertips.

“Oh my God!” He stretched his body across hers, reaching for his phone on the nightstand and dialing 9-1-1. As the line connected, he gathered Jessica in his arms and climbed down from the bed. He laid her out on the rug, cradling her head as he rested it on the floor.

“It’s okay, babe, we’re so close to the hospital!” The instructions for compression-only CPR trickled through his head.

“9-1-1, what’s your name and the nature of your emergency?”

“Nathan Spalding. I think my wife just had a heart attack! She isn’t breathing and she doesn’t have a pulse!” Nathan traced the line of her ribs and found her sternum. He interlaced his fingers and pressed the heel of his hand to the lower half of her breastbone. “I’m starting CPR now! Oh my God, Jessica!”

When he pushed down, her ribcage felt stiff. He remembered he was supposed to press down two inches, but hasn’t given a thought as to what that would actually look or feel like. Her chest caved under his hands, springing back up when he relieved the pressure. Her breasts wobbled with the force, her stomach bulging out.

“Your wife is not breathing?”

“No! And she has no pulse! I’m giving her chest compressions! Please send an ambulance to the Star Condos on Main! We’re literally just around the corner. Our unit is twenty-nine!” He shoved his hands into Jessica’s chest. Her head fell to the side, shoulders popping with the force he exerted on her sternum.

“I don’t know if I’m doing this at the right speed!”

“Sir, I have an ambulance crew leaving the hospital now. Make sure you have your hands on her sternum and you are pushing her chest down two inches. Come all the way up each time. Go ahead and count out loud for me each time you push down on her chest.”

“One, two, three, four, five, six…”

“Good pace, keep it up. Nathan, will the medics be able to get into your condo?”

“…eight… Yes! The doorman will let them in! Three, four, five, six…”

Come on, babe! I didn’t know you were sick! You have to breathe!

He could hear the sirens outside. They really did live extremely close to Suncoast Research Hospital. The medics could have almost walked there.

“…six, seven, eight, nine, ten, one…”

Nathan was breathing hard, sweat beading up on his brow. Both of them were still naked, which was a thought that had only belatedly occurred to him, but he decided that didn’t signify. 

“Sir, Nathan, does your wife have any health conditions?”

“…three, four… No, I didn’t think so! Uh… she had chest pains right before she lost consciousness… seven, eight, nine…”

“Drug use?”

“One… Just pot! And not tonight… not all week! One, two, three, four…”

“Okay, Nathan, the ambulance has arrived and the crew is making their way to you. Stay on the line until they enter your condo, okay?”

“Eight, nine—okay! One, two, three, come ON, Jess!”

The speaker in his apartment activated with a series of beeps, and he heard a man say: “Mr. and Mrs. Spalding, EMS has arrived and has requested entry to your unit. I’ve sent them up the cargo elevator with staff and am buzzing them into your unit remotely. Please respond if you are able.”

“Yes! This is Nathan! Mr. Spalding! Please, let them in, I can’t… One, two, three, four…”

“I’m disabling your door lock for the next ten minutes. Please let me know if I can assist further.” 

Nathan heard the front door lock disengage, and shortly after there was a loud knock and the door opened. “Mr. Nathan Spalding? EMS here!”

“…five, six… BACK IN THE BEDROOM!” He heard the sound of them wheeling a gurney down the hall, and then three men were in the room with him, all wearing dark blue polos and black pants.

“Thank you, sir, I’ll take over from here.” One of the men, a tall red head whose nametag read “Adam,” kneeled across from Nathan. Nathan leaned back, watching as the man pressed his fingers into Jessica’s neck. She’d gone gray, her lips dusky. 

Nathan stumbled to his feet, felt someone grab his elbow. “I’ve got you, sir. Why don’t you sit down?”

“Need to put clothes on,” Nathan said, pulling free. This man’s nametag read: “Scottie.”

“Resuming compressions,” Adam said. Nathan froze, watching as the man began to pummel his wife’s chest, his compressions seeming even harder and faster than the ones Nathan had been performing. He heard air huff out of her, and then the third EMT kneeled at her other side, laying a mask with a bag attached by her head. He was also unpacking some kind of display. Nathan looked at his badge, registering that his name was “Joseph.”

He found his pajamas in a pile at the foot of the bed and dressed quickly.

“Has EMS arrived?” he heard the operator ask from his phone.

Nathan snatched it up and said: “Yes, they’re here. Thank you!”

“Thank you, sir. Disconnecting now.”

“Sir,” Scottie said. “Nathan. What’s her name?”

“Jessica.” Nathan sat on the edge of the bed, watching as his wife’s body twitched, her stomach bulging and her breasts wobbling with each compression.

“Thirty!” Adam called out, and Joseph squeezed the bulb twice, making her chest rise. Then Adam started compressions again. “One, two, three…”

“Nathan, I’m an Advanced EMT with your municipality.” Scottie crouched by Jessica, applying white defibrillator pads to her chest. 

He flipped a switch, and the device announced: “Analyzing rhythm. Do not touch patient!”

The men all scooted back. Joseph held a small plastic piece against the side of Jessica’s face, careful not to touch her. 

“Analyzing rhythm, do not touch patient. No shock advised. Resume two minutes of CPR.”

“Adam and Joseph switch, I’m calling for ALS. Nathan, Adam is going to put an airway adjunct in to help with her breathing.”

Two of the men changed places. Joseph started chest compressions, while Adam retrieved the plastic piece and tilted Jessica’s head back. He slipped the piece between her teeth and rotated it one hundred and eighty degrees before letting the flange rest on her teeth.

“How old is Jessica?” Scottie asked.

“Twenty-nine,” Nathan answered. Then he pressed his hands to his mouth.

“Thirty!” Joseph said, and Adam quickly fitted the mask to Jessica’s face and squeezed the bulb.

“Dr. Perkins, please.” Scottie crouched close by, speaking into his phone. “This is Scottie Wilson, unit one-one, A-EMT. I have a twenty-nine-year-old patient in cardiac arrest. No known pre-existing health conditions or drug use. Witnessed collapse with chest pains. Husband started chest compressions immediately and called 9-1-1. Since our arrival we have given her a full cycle of CPR and connected the AED. AED advised no shock. We are requesting Advanced Life Support.”

He listened to someone speaking on the other end.

“I’m sorry, repeat that question.”

“One, two, three, four, five…”

“What was the patient doing at the time of the arrest? I’ll ask—”

“We were having sex,” Nathan said, too worried to be embarrassed, his eyes on Jessica as her chest rose artificially.

“Patient and her husband were engaged in sexual intercourse.”

“…three, four, five, six…”

“You want us to transport her and bring the husband. Is that—No, I understand. I’ll establish an IV in the bus. Okay. Yes, Doctor.”

“Analyzing rhythm. Do not touch patient.”

The medics leaned back.

“Guys, we’re transporting her back,” Scottie said. “Continuing with the AED until we start moving, and CPR all the way.”

“Analyzing rhythm, do not touch patient. No shock advised. Continue two minutes of CPR."

"Switch while we package her up, then I will ride the gurney down.”

Adam started chest compressions while the other EMTs began gathering up their bags and putting things at the foot of the gurney. 

“Sir,” Scottie said. “You should go ahead and grab anything you need to take with you. Insurance cards, ID, shoes for yourself. You’ll be riding in the front of the ambulance. Okay?”

“Okay.” He stared down at Jessica, watching the EMT Adam forcefully compressing her chest. The mask was sitting to the side of her face, and he could see the plastic airway device jutting out between her teeth. He had a question that was floating in the front of his mind, one he did and did not want the answer to. But he drew a deep breath and asked: “Are… are they planning on declaring her dead at the hospital?”

Scottie shook his head. “Not to my knowledge. They’re holding a resuscitation suite and a specialist for her.”

Nathan nodded and leaned over, briefly gripping his wife’s foot, the closest part of her body. “I love you,” he murmured, before making himself stand.

He found shoes and grabbed his wallet. He also collected Jessica’s phone off the dresser and her wallet out of her purse in the kitchen. He briefly considered calling her mother, but by that time the EMTs were wheeling the gurney out of the bedroom. They’d covered her lower half with a sheet, and Scottie straddled her, riding on top of the gurney as he thrust his hands between her breasts.

Nathan held the door for them and then paged down to the front desk to activate the cargo elevator. He locked the door and ran after the gurney, sliding into the elevator as the doors closed. 

As they were exiting the cargo elevator, the AED tried to chime in. Scottie turned it off, stating: “We need to stay on the move.”

The next thing Nathan knew, he’d been bundled into the front of the ambulance, Joseph driving, and they were headed the short distance to the hospital.

When they arrived, he found an entire group waiting for them in the ambulance bay.

“Mr. Spalding? I need you to come with me right away.” A female nurse ushered him inside and down the hall after the gurney. He caught glimpses of Jessica’s hair, but he couldn’t get close enough to touch her. A nurse was astride her now, continuing the chain of chest compressions.

He was escorted to a small room with a table and chairs labeled as a “Family Consultation Room.”

“The doctor will be with you shortly,” the nurse said, before closing the door behind her.

He didn’t wait long. He heard a quick knock as the door was opening, and a female doctor entered the room. She wore a surgical mask and carried a set of scrubs under her arm and a clipboard in her hand.

“I’m Dr. Perkins,” she said. “Have a seat, Nathan.”

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not.” He felt queasy, and his heart was beating fast. “Are you about to tell me you already called her? Is she dead?”

“Your wife is very sick. Based on the timeline, most doctors, programs, hospitals would be declaring her dead in the next five minutes. We don’t have any time, so I am going to have to rush you through this process.

“Your wife does not have any cardiac electrical activity. I have an experimental resuscitative process that I am pioneering. I have identified a hormone that supports electrical activity in the heart. I’ve named it corsexamine, and—”

“Do it,” Nathan said. “Do you need me to sign something?”

“Yes,” she said. “But you’ll need to be personally involved.”

“Okay… Sure, whatever you need me to do.”

“As the name might suggest, corsexamine is released during sexual activity. I am told your wife experienced onset of the cardiac arrest during sexual intercourse?”

Nathan blinked at her. She appeared to be interested for scholarly reasons only, so he nodded. “Yes, she said it hurt, but she didn’t want me to stop, and then she grabbed her chest, came really hard, and passed out.”

“She’s already tested positive via finger stick for a low corsexamine reserve. We need to do everything we can to get that elevated. This includes both natural and artificial methods.” She laid the clipboard on the table. “This document releases the hospital in the event that the procedure does not work, or if you develop PTSD or an STI. This process may be very disturbing and upsetting, Nathan. You’ll be doing something that would be illegal in any other context.”

“An STI?”

“Not a concern. If she has one, you’ve already been exposed.”

Nathan accepted the pen she offered her. He really wasn’t sure what they were asking him to do, but it sounded like he would certainly be going home without Jessica if he didn’t agree to this procedure.

He scrawled his signature. “I still don’t know what you need me to do, but I’ll do it.”

“We need you to have sex with your dying wife.”

Less than three minutes later, Nathan was barefoot and dressed in scrubs. A nurse retrieved him from the consultation room and led him down the hall, stopping in front of a set of swinging doors.

“Your wife is in here, Mr. Spalding. Prepare yourself. Now, Dr. Perkins is prepared to masturbate you should you need the assistance. Do you understand?”

“Er… Sure, yeah.”

The nurse escorted him into the room. He could hear a buzzing and a high-pitched whine and saw his wife laid out on the table. She’d been intubated and had a blue tube holder obscuring part of her face. A nurse stood at her head, squeezing a bag. Another nurse was giving her forceful chest compressions. He could see her breasts wobble with each thrust, her large areolas looking dusky in the harsh light.

To his surprise, a third nurse was thrusting their hands into her abdomen, moving in opposition to the chest compressions. The two nurses were bobbing like a see-saw over his wife.

“Interposed abdominal compression CPR,” his escort said. “Studies show it improves vital organ perfusion. Getting oxygen to them, I mean. we’ve also got a cooling vest under her, though we’ve had to unzip it for this procedure.”

There was a curtain drawn across his wife, blocking her lower half from view. The doctor, a tall woman with piercing eyes over her mask, stepped out from behind the curtain. His escort reached out and put her hand on his arm. “I know that we discussed the procedure already, but this part will be shocking. Are you ready?”

He stared at her, then nodded. “Go ahead.”

The nurse pulled back the curtain, and he understood why she’d stopped to ask.

Jessica’s legs were spread, her feet strapped to a pair of exam stirrups. A fourth nurse stood with her back to him. He couldn’t see what she was doing until the doctor motioned for him to come around the table.

“This is…” He didn’t hear anything else she said. His eyes locked onto what was going on between his wife’s legs. The fourth nurse had a vibrator pressed to Jessica’s clit and an arm wrapped around her thigh so that she could pump her gloved fingers in and out of Jessica’s pussy.

The doctor motioned for him to step closer. From this angle he couldn’t see Jessica’s face, just the underside of her chin and the long line of her neck. The nurses pounded her chest and abdomen, making her entire body shake.

“Do you consent to this procedure as described to you?” the doctor asked.

“Y-yes…”

He was staring between Jessica’s thighs again. In addition to the nurse working her fingers in and out of his wife’s vagina, a butt plug had been inserted. He had a vague thought that Jessica would be annoyed with the “butt stuff.” He felt his cock twitch in the borrowed pants.

The doctor reached out and pulled the scrub pants down to his knees. She held her hands out to the nurse in charge of the IV, who squirted a generous dollop of lube into her hands.

Then she reached out and took his dick in her hand, pumping his semi with one hand and cupping his balls with the other. 

“How are we on time?” The doctor called as she stroked him.

“Nearing twenty-five,” one of the nurses said.

He tried to block out the sounds, and the violence of what was happening to his wife. He focused instead on the sight of the nurse thrusting her fingers into his wife’s pussy. She had three fingers inside of his wife, pumping hard and fast, all while the vibrator buzzed away.

After a minute, though, his eyes drifted up to Jessica’s breasts. The nurse there was caving in her chest, making her breasts bob. Her nipples were hard, and he surprised himself by groaning as the doctor jacking him off slipped a lubed finger inside his asshole.

Another minute of this, and the doctor directed the nurse to “remove digital stimulation” before withdrawing her finger and helping him to position himself between his wife’s thighs. He’d grown rock hard, something he would have sworn should be impossible in these circumstances.

“Enter your wife now, please, Nathan,” the doctor said.

He pressed the head of his cock against Jessica’s lubricated vaginal opening and then sheathed himself in one motion. He could feel the vibrations from the vibrator through her body. He pumped once into her before he restrained himself and glanced up at the doctor.

“I don’t expect you to try to match compression speed. Just keep a solid rhythm,” the doctor said. “It’s time for another dose of epi, then we will progress with this technique in two minutes increments. Remember, sir, you must withdraw if or when we tell you to so that we may use the defibrillator.”

He had a front row seat to the more traditional interventions going on, his hips pumping automatically as he took everything in. He saw the nurse assigned to medication press her thumb down, releasing medication into his wife’s IV. The nurse at Jessica’s head never stopped squeezing the bag. The two nurses working on her in the middle looked like they were making putty out of her internal organs. One thrusted down hard into her sternum, making her ribcage flex. Then, as that nurse raised their hands, the other would plunge his hands into her abdomen.

“After the next analysis, I need Parker and Bryan to switch, and Kyle and Marcy,” the doctor said. 

Nathan wrapped his hands around Jessica’s thighs, pulling himself deeper into her. Her thighs were cool but her pussy was warm. He wondered how long he was expected to last in this situation, or if he should even try to cum at all.

“Pause compressions and vaginal thrusts,” the doctor said. Nathan forced himself to stop thrusting, though he remained buried inside of her. “She’s still asystolic. Resume compressions and thrusts. Push epinephrine, and ready the corsexamine.”

A nurse moved to the side, scribbling something in the chart, then returned with a syringe, which he handed to the doctor.

“Alright, everyone compressions and vaginal thrusts pause while we insert the needle.” Nathan stopped thrusting with difficulty. The doctor uncapped the syringe, watched while the nurse cleaned the skin on Jessica’s chest. Then the doctor palpated her way down Jessica’s bruised sternum before finding the spot she was looking for and inserting the needle.

She depressed the plunger, withdrew the needle, and sat the syringe to the side. “Corsexamine administered. Resume compressions and vaginal thrusts. I’m adding nipple stimulation now. We analyze again in two minutes.”

The doctor reached around the hands pumping Jessica’s chest and began rubbing and pinching Jessica’s erect nipples.

Jessica

She couldn’t move or open her eyes. But as awareness trickled back into her brain, she felt everything.

A tube down her throat. Air regularly inflating her lungs. Fingers pinching and rubbing her nipples. Strong hands on her sternum and her abdomen, forcing blood to pump from her heart with deep, painful compressions. She felt powerful vibrations on her clit, and a feeling of fullness in her rectum. Hands gripped her thighs, and she realized someone was fucking her vaginally, their thrusts hard and fast.

The sensations were overwhelming; Jessica could barely think with everything going on. Her body was responding regardless. The passage between her thighs was slick, her arousal unmitigated by the crackling pain in her chest.

The vibration pattern on her clit changed. She would have moaned if she could have taken an independent breath. Her muscles began to tense; her toes tingled. A whoosh of air inflated her lungs. 

“Let us know if you feel her body orgasm,” a woman said. “Pause compressions and thrusts. Where are we on time?”

“Thirty minutes,” a nurse announced. "Two since administration of the medication.”

“We should have v-fib by now,” the doctor said. “Dammit, Jessica. Resume compressions and thrusts. Switching to oral stimulation.”

Warm, wet lips closed around her right nipple and applied suction. Her vagina pulsed.

“Attending to the other nipple now,” a male voice said, and then a second pair of lips locked onto her left nipple. 

“I think she’s getting close!” A familiar voice said, sounding shocked. 

Nathan?

The sensations built. Even the painful chest compressions began to arouse her. Her chest flexing, abdomen bulging. The pressure of the abdominal thrusts. The feeling of air artificially sating her lungs. The hands on her body. The mouths on her breasts. The pulsing vibrations on her clit. The warm, hard dick thrusting in and out of her.

“Hyperventilate her,” a woman’s voice said, mouth briefly pulling away from Jessica’s breast. The rush of air in her lungs increased, as though she were gasping for air just before orgasm.

“Increase the power of the vibrator.”

Oh, God…

“Nathan, don’t hold back. As hard and as fast as you can.”

Nathan…

He started jack hammering her, slamming his dick into her over and over again. Jessica was completely paralyzed. Normally she’d be meeting him thrust for thrust, writhing with pleasure. The sensations built and built and built until they crashed over her like a tsunami. Her body released a rush of fluid and her vaginal muscles contracted so hard they hurt.

“She’s coming!” Nathan cried out. She felt him spill himself into her, his fingers gripping her thighs to bruising. “God! So am I!”

“Pause compressions and thrusts while I analyze.”

Jessica felt Nathan withdraw, heard him breathing hard.

“V-fib! Continue compressions, charge to 200! Nathan, don’t touch her, hold tight! Okay, everyone clear!” The nurse squeezing the bag unhooked it and joined the rest of them in stepping back, arms raised. “Clear!”

There was a noise she couldn’t quite explain and then a mule kicked her in the chest, knocking her unconscious.

Nathan

Jessica’s torso jerked and the stirrups rattled. He watched as the doctor pressed her fingers against a spot in the crease of Jessica’s leg near her groin. Marcy grabbed Jessica’s wrist, and Kyle plunged his fingers into her neck. Parker reconnected the bag to Jessica’s tube and squeezed it 

“Sinus!” Dr. Perkins shouted, looking up at the marker. “Got her! It worked! Close up the cooling vest, get her out of the stirrups, call neuro…”

Nathan sat down heavily on the stool. It was an odd place to sit; Jessica’s legs were still spread wide above his head. No one had explained exactly what had happened, but he gathered she had a normal heartbeat now. He covered his face with his hands and sat like that for a while.

“Nathan.”

He looked up, dropping his hands. One of the nurses, Marcy, was leaning over him. 

“Why don’t you come see your wife for a minute before we move her? She’s still unconscious, but she may hear you.” She reached out her hand and helped him up, keeping a steadying hand on his elbow. 

Jessica looked bad. Her body was bruised and pale, and her eyes were closed. There was a nurse still steadily squeezing the bag, inflating her chest artificially. 

“You can touch her,” Nurse Marcy said.

He reached for her hand and then leaned close to her ear.

“Hey, babe. It’s Nathan. Hey, I love you. You’re going to be okay. You have to be. I’m gonna call our parents and tell them… some… of what just happened. I need you to work on waking up before your mom gets here. We both know how she is.

“I love you, did I say that? Listen, babe. Listen. You won’t believe what just happened…”

--

A related story: Sexual Healing.

[itsbeesknees]

Ode to the Grim Reaper

Terzo x GN!reader

——0——

Summary: Terzo is dead. Atleast.. he should be.

Warnings: MDNI, Angst, death, hurt/comfort, grief and mourning, revived corpses, use of google translated Italian, mentions of gore and blood (beheadings),

Word count: 2.3K

A/N: This is my first time doing an x reader, so don’t mind me testing the waters here,, I apologize if it sounds a little rushed, I wanted to try and keep it short.

Even though there is technically no smut, all my works are 18+ regardless, I do not want any minors interacting with my fics‼️

——0——

Terzo is dead.

Well, he should be dead.

Dead people can not, should not, feel things once they’re gone. Their bodies must remain cold, frigid, and lifeless— becoming nothing more than a shriveled and polar shell of what they once were.

Dead people should also not blink. Yet here lies the deceased, supposedly deceased, third Emeritus brother, nictitating his dried eyes. He blinks again. Because, as it would seem, he does not play the role of a deadman very well. He’s a corpse abiding by his own rules now, curling his toes and sucking in a harrowing breath.

Terzo can’t entirely see yet, all that’s currently lining his peripheral is nothing but a kaleidoscope of dancing black dots and faint popping static. He doesn’t understand where he is, doesn’t quite realize he needs to be a motionless cadaver and not a quivering boy. But his neck burns. It won’t stop burning. A deadman’s neck shouldn’t burn, however the pain is singing Terzo away at the edges anyways, convulsing his nerves like a white hot live wire.

Lethargic and rather sluggish, he flexes his gloved hands as he wakes and settles deep into his weeping bones, palms eagerly sliding off his sternum and stretching outwards, only to be curtly stopped by a gritty glass barrier. The more Terzo’s vision focuses, the quicker he comes face to face with ragged claw marks that scoured each side of the coffin he had been tucked into, much like a porcelain doll propped in a curated case. The top pane of glass was missing, removed for replacement. It’s almost sickening how easily Terzo is able to pull himself up into a proper sitting position because of this, since he hadn’t been as fortunate when he first got shoveled into the casket.

Right. How long ago was that again? How much time had passed since he was lounging around that dingy table, squabbling with his brothers?

His neck continues to burn.

It wasn’t just his neck. The scalding infernal heat ran rivulets around the insides of his throat and melted his vocal chords as well, as if someone had butchered the muscle and sewed it back together with fishing line.

The horrid thought of such a thing has Terzo shooting his fingers up to brush along the cusp of his jaw, before briefly sinking them down to the culprit of his torment with a featherlight caress. The leathers of his glove won’t let him catch onto the cracking textures of his dried, flaked blood that had dribbled out and stained the collar of his chasable, but it snags the ridges of a fresh scar coiling in his skin.

It is then Terzo realizes, mortified, that his head had been severed and reattached.

His hands tremble as he peels back his gloves, wanting desperately to feel the festering wound for himself, without anything else in the way. To make sure that it was in fact real, and he hadn’t just conjured it up in a spat of paranoia in attempts to make sense of this wretched situation. Though, if Terzo was being completely honest with himself, none of this felt real. As far as he could be concerned, it was all some twisted dream. A dark carousel of sweltering nightmares and glass coffins and rancid stenches of death.

The calcine pinching in his throat reminds him not to get too ahead of himself.

Regardless of his fright, stripping away his gloves only seemed to distract him further, all due to the glinting band on his ring finger— A ring. A wedding ring. Which means a spouse. His spouse. His lover and muse. You.

The initial shock of ‘rising from the grave’ recedes like the tide of an unforgiving sea, with bittersweet tendrils of memory beginning to seep and ebb back into the fragments of Terzo’s shattered mind. Of course he remembers you. How could he ever forget?

The thought of you flanked any other pressing matter into the shadows of his closet, because he wasn’t quite ready to come to terms with everything else yet. It was all too much. If he actually accepted it all— the mockery, the failed expectations, the injected needle, the gaping laceration of a decapitation— he may actually just wither away. So, here Terzo’s quandary will rot in the metaphorical wardrobe with all his other skeletons, until he can finally will himself to face the monstrous calamity that was his death.

It took a miracle to puppet his body out of the casket, his joints hissing and protesting from days.. or months, of inexperience. He had to clutch the edges of the hardy table his coffin laid upon for good measure, since he surely would’ve fallen straight to his haunches if he hadn’t. Yet he managed to liberate himself nonetheless.

The room surrounding him was concealed by a tenebrous midnight, dim and sterile, wreathing his cryptic figure in gloomy shadows. Terzo knew this place, he didn’t need night-vision to attain that he was hobbling around the morgue. The lack of light made it much more troublesome to make a break for the door, but it spared his already splintered heart from anymore misery. Because, if the lights had been on, he would’ve seen the bodies of his brothers displayed pristinely in their own polished coffins.

Lucky for him, Terzo supposes, that the door with the wrought iron handle was unlocked. He has to strain his muscles to wrench it open, which is comical, but expected for a reanimated corpse. Entering the hallway was a bit easier, yet he still leans on the walls for support.

Terzo has walked these corridors hundreds, if not thousands of times, but not like this. Never like this.

Everything was still, silent. No deacons or priests walked through foyers, no siblings of sin scuttled around the courtyards— You could blame that on the fact it was nearing one in the morning, and majority of the congregation was tucked securely underneath their crisp cotton sheets and puffy duvets.

Terzo was grateful for the relative solitude, really, because he certainly did not want to risk the chance of running into any members of the Clergy when all he wanted to do is get to you.

It’s childish, how hastily he longs to be with you through all this madness. His own head had gotten chopped off and weaved back on for fuck’s sake, he should be screaming, lunging into hysterics. Those are the proper reactions to grieving an unexpected death, right?

Later, Terzo assures himself, not all too convincingly, there will be time for that later. Preferably when he’s shrouded away from everyone, so no one can witness him crumbling.

Right now all he wants is you. Maybe he was greedy in that way, clinging to the idea of holding you again. Greedy with your affection, hoarding it like a dragon would with its finest treasures. Terzo loved the way you smiled, the sound of your voice, the way you felt, the warmth your company could bring. So much so, that he never wanted to let you go. Yes, the third Emeritus brother was a greedy one. But only because he’d been alone for so long. Terzo could be surrounded by multitudes of idolizing crowds on the daily and still manage to feel achingly lonely.

His loneliness stems from pure selfishness, he thinks, or his self sabotage thinks, since he can’t tell the difference between the two anymore. Terzo’s privileged, he knows this, he’s rich in the ways of friends and he’s never met someone who was poor company. Yet here he is, sequestered and drowning amidst his woes.

You’d probably chide him for his thinking if you were walking beside him right now. Terzo's lips quirk into a wistful smile. You were always good like that, anchoring his feet to the floor when all he wanted to do was let the hate consume him.

There was no use in ever trying to put up a front around you, because you were like a bloodhound that could smell malarkey a mile away. And even if Terzo was incredibly reserved and a tad bit stubborn with his emotions, you were patient. Waiting patiently, listening patiently, and when he’d finally rupture and lament into your open arms, you’d patiently card your fingers through the locks of his raven black hair.

There was a sense of vulnerability between you two, something you witnessed in Terzo that others did not, a sacred secret kept between two lovers. A mutual understanding. He may have been Papa once, but he was yours first.

The ministry is too hollow tonight, too big. A bitter gust of wind whistles through a set of open windows as the plodding corpse treks on, one stinging step after the other. The way to your shared quarters is muscle memory to him, it would be an easy path to tread if it wasn’t for the prickling soreness in his throat and chest.

Eugh, he definitely was a sight for sore eyes.

How would you react to seeing him like this, all things considered? There’s a chance you might scream, maybe even hurl a pillow at him, and Terzo would never hold it against you. He’s fairly terrified of his present state, too. Would you cry? Point a finger at his chest and wail and tell him over and over; ‘I told you so’? You had told him so, after all. You knew something was amiss ever since the Clergy tore Terzo off that stage during his final ballad of Monstrance Clock. You had been skittish and riddled with worry for his well-being, and despite all of Terzo’s consoling— he was fine, everything was going to be fine, mio caro.— you were right.

He imagined you enraged, furious at him, not willing to forgive, never willing to forgive. But you weren’t like that. Perhaps you’d cry, or scream, or throw something at him in a fit of shock, but never act spiteful. The most malicious Terzo had ever experienced you being was in domestic acts of grudgefulness in passing of some fatuous argument; like rolling over in bed and giving him the cold shoulder. Or drowning him out with the vacuum. Once you even went as far as ‘accidentally’ washing his whites with some of your cherry reds. Petty, but not cruel.

How far along were you in your stages of mourning? Were you still waiting for him to return to you? Have you locked yourself into the depths of your shared quarters? Have you shut the world out? Terzo hoped that if you were waiting, he hadn’t made you wait for too long.

He tries to break down the remainder of his journey into smaller, more manageable pieces. He reclines against limestone walls to catch his breath when the pain shocks him too much to bear, and starts again when the image of you enters his mind. He almost sobs at the sight of your door.

Hesitant, Terzo jingles the doorknob once, twice, then throws it open, stepping into the darkened room.

Everything is just as it was since he last occupied the space, however long ago that had been. Wedding pictures still hang pristinely on the walls, his comb is still intact on the surface of the vanity. It all remains hauntingly untouched, all except for the bed.

You stir from under the covers, most likely woken from the noise he made in opening the door, rising and blinking blearily in the direction of where he stood. There you were and here he was.

Terzo finds himself faltering, unsure of how to go about this. What’s the proper etiquette of greeting your lover after being recently deceased?

“Terzo?” You call out, voice faraway and hoarse, wavering at every step he takes towards you. Terzo should not be there. He’s dead, immobile in a glass coffin somewhere. You’re either dreaming or must have finally lost it.

But then he replies, whispering your name and moving closer, and the mattress is suddenly dipping from the weight of him sitting on its borders. For a moment you say nothing and he says nothing, only because he’s reaching out to stroke the skin of your soft cheek. His delicate touch makes you recoil frightfully as if you had been stung by a wasp, since you hadn’t actually been expecting to feel him.

“Is this real?” You breathe, eyes wide and flicking down to gape at the gruesome scar that decorated his neck like some debauched necklace of curdled gore. “Are you real?”

“Yes, amore. I’m real.” It pains him to speak, and Terzo’s larynx is definitely worse for wear, sounding all garbled and warbled. But he needs to talk to you, apologize for anything and everything. He needs you to know how sorry he is, because he failed you. He made all the wrong choices, and look where that ended him. It hurts, he really did try, he tried so hard to play the role, appease the Clergy well enough to leave him and his beloved be, yet he was playing checkers while the world was playing chess. And Terzo was never any good at chess. It wasn’t his fault, but he was too lost to understand that.

“I’m sorry.” He begins, it’s a start. “I’m sorry, mi dispiace tanto.” Then came the tears, dripping and smearing the paints that marred his face. It’s all coming crashing down now, every inhale he takes sounds like agony.

Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me. He wants to say, needs to say, but can’t manage the words.

You take Terzo and ease him into your arms, shakily tucking his face into your shoulder so he can cry freely without anyone else seeing. It was what he always preferred; weeping into shoulders or pillows, hiding from the chance of being caught under a scrutinizing gaze.

Terzo is dead. Was dead. Should still be dead. But he’s not.

So, relieved and confused, but mostly confused, you thread your fingers through his hair. Later, you will talk and ask questions and shed your own tears until sunlight filters through the drapes. But for now, you hug Terzo, your Terzo, and shield him from the world as he wails anew.

—o—

[acesofspadess]

June 9th: The Show

summary: a glimpse into Maia and Niall life- June 9th edition

a/n: smut, read at your own discretion

June 9

The had finally arrived. The early morning sun in New York was slowly peeking through. It wasn't a rare occasion you woke up earlier than Niall, and it also wasn’t a rare occasion you woke the other up.

Flipping over to face the pretty boy in mention you took in his relaxed features, knowing soon they would be filled with nerves, but also excitement that  the album was officially out.

You brushed his messy hair out of his face before slowly kissing your way down his jaw, his sternum, his belly and ducking under the covers to continue your path along his happy trail.

Both of you like sleeping in minimal amounts of clothing, so the only thing separating you from waking Niall up with him in your mouth were his pants that you could already see his morning wood stretching against. 

You kissed over the bulge seeing him shift softly. You palmed over it on your way back up to the edge of his pants and pulling them down, freeing him. You loved his cock, it was just so pretty. You stroked his length a few more times, kissing the tip as you went and feeling his thighs twitch and panty breaths come from above you. You finally took him into your mouth and let him hit the back of your throat effectively waking him up as he moaned groggily. “What ‘re ya’ doing?” he panted ripping the covers off you, accent thick even to your ears, “not dat im complaining.” he moaned hips lifting off the bed to get more friction.

You moaned around him before popping off him and using your hand. “Only one way to celebrate today ya think?” using the hand that wasn’t stroking him, you squeezed his balls making him thrust upwards into your waiting mouth. “Fuck baby girl, you’re gonna kill me after last night.” his voice was breathy, a deep groan spilling out when you moaned around him at the remembrance of last night. 

He gripped your shoulder pushing you back as he was too close to finishing. “Want to be in you.” he gasped as you popped off him and gave his red tip a kiss. He pulled you up to him and crashed his lips into yours in a messy kiss. His hands roamed up your sides under your his shirt and gripped your breast harshly making him swallow your moan. He quickly lifted the shirt up only breaking the kiss to pull it over your head and his tongue was back in your mouth. “Take these off.” he grunted into your lips as his hips thrusted up to only be met by your lace panties. You shimied them off and were soon met with Nialls hands sliding you over his cock. “Fucking hell. So wet just from sucking my cock.” you moaned as his tip caught your clit. You took initiative and lined his leaking cock with your entrance taking him to the base and the room was filled with borderline pornagraphic moans. “Use me Ni, all about you.” your words seemed to ignite something primal in him as he roughly flipped you both over.

His hips thrusted into yours at a rhythmic pace and you ran your hands down his back. “Want me to use you. Shit princess.” he groaned into your neck as you clenched around him. He picked up one of your legs and pressed it into your chest giving him a better angle to reach deeper inside you. You scratched your nails down his back and he groaned, biting your neck, “You wanna mark me up huh? Want everyone to see what I do to you.” you moaned at the thought of seeing him perform with scratch marks down his back and hickeys on his chest knowing you gave them to him. The thought alone made the coil snap as you writhed under him. 

“Oh god.” he moaned, still thrusting into you roughly, his balls smacking into your bum giving him extra pleasure. “You do want that. Want everyone to know I'm yours.” your mind was lost in a trance the only words you knew were his name. “Ni.” you moaned as he sucked against your neck. “Say it baby.” he groaned, thrust getting sloppy and snaked his hand down to clit making you scream in overstimulation. “Say it and you can cum again, say it or you don't get another.” you whined as he took his finger off your clit and you tried to form the words.

“Want- want them to know. Wanna show them how good you make me feel- how good I make you feel.” he resumed his attack against your clit and your hips thrusted up into him matching his thrust. “Fuck you make me feel so good baby girl. Would stay here all day.” your vice grip around his cock was making it harder to thrust into you and he knew you were close again. “Come on baby, cum with me.” he kissed you the best he could as the force of your orgasm shook you and his thrust got sloppier until he groaned animalistically into your neck as his hips stilled except for occasionally twitch trying sink further inside you as you milked him for everything he had.

You both stayed in your position with Niall's head against your sweaty chest and him still deep inside you. You ran your hands through his sweaty hair helping him regulate his breathing. “Did you mean it?” he whispered coarsely and you knew you would have to make him drink hot honey water and take a steamy shower. “Mean what?” you had blacked out after the first orgasm, you could’ve said a lot. “About you and I,” his fingers drew shapes against your stomach, “properly.” A few weeks had passed since the show had finished and everyone who needed to know legally, had no qualms. “I am yours Niall Horan. From the day we met and in our next life.” he looked up with teary eyes and kissed you soft but deeply. “I will always be yours baby girl.” he grabbed your hand and twisted the ring around your finger. “Always.”

maiaquinn posted on their story

~~~~~

Niall laughed at your story claiming everyone would  know now. You walked with him hand in hand through the Today Show building greeting everyone and even taking pictures with Niall and some by yourself with fans. When you made it back outside Niall had to soundcheck for a bit. “Good morning.” he smiled to the small crowd. “Thank you all for being here.” they screamed for him as he said it. “When I drove past. I’d seen everyone lining up up around the streets. So thank you so so much for being here, on the release date.” he pointed out and once again everyone cheered. 

As you went to get him more hot water and tea so he would be ready for the real performance, you were about to take a video of your surroundings to tease the ‘horandogs’ you knew followed you. “You're Maia right?” a girl who had to be around your age asked as she waited for her order. “Yeah I am,” you chuckled softly, “what's your name?” but the ‘smile’ on her face was quickly replaced with disgust. “I don't know who you think you are, but you can’t just act like you own the place. The only reason you won is because of Niall, and now your dating him like some gold digger slut.” you almsot laughed with easily she switched up. “Okay.” you shrugged and you stepped up to order a honey vanilla chamomile tea with extra honey for Niall, and one for yourself.

When you went to pay you realised you had infact started the video and caught the encounter on camera. You ended the video and paid and your drinks were out in no time. “By the way,” you came to stop next to her grabbing a napkin, “all of that was on video.” and you walked away seeing her try to muster up anything to say. 

“Hey love.” Niall kissed your lips as you made it back to him, “What took so long?” you handed him his drink and pulled out your phone. “Do you really want to know?” he nodded albeit hesitantly. You pressed play on the video and handed him the phone. You watched his face go from confusion to sad and angry. “Wha- why? Why would someone say something like this to you?” you placed your free hand on his cheek and you saw him instantly calm. “We don’t know, and even if we did it wouldn’t matter.” he looked at you incredulously. “What do you it doesn’t matter?!” he spiked up again, but calmed when you looked into his eyes. “Was anything she said true?” and he shook his quickly, “then it will never matter. People only let things affect them if they think there is truth behind it. And there is not.” you simply stated and his eyes wandered your face for any sign of hurt you may be concealing- he didn’t find any.

“Ive said it before and ill say it like its the only thing i know, ‘heaven can’t hold a candle to you’.” you giggled kissing his lips once more before you knew you were wasting his tea drinking time.

~~

Reuniting with Carson was so much fun. He was your biggest fan on the show and definitely a big fan of you and Nialls relationship. “Im very mature as you know Carson.” Niall joked everyone laughing. “And i know this because we spent a lot of time together on The Voice. You won on your first time being on the show.” everyone cheered as Hoda congratulated him. “The winner of The Voice is also here this morning.” You laughed and waved as every turned towards you and Niall was smiling so proudly. His message from Blake that you helped put together was played. ‘And now thats its over i can finally tell you that i wrote it into the script that you would win. Dont tell Maia that though.’ You laughed loudly with everyone around you as Niall looked at you and smiled jokingly.

The beginning of ‘Heaven’ played and you watched Niall arms spread out, with a big grin on your face. You really would have to teach him what to do without a guitar on stage. You told Niall he had to do his flower face when he sang ‘how i obsessively adore you’ and he listened. Niall held someone's hand with the biggest smile and you knew how happy he was to have that connection with a fan.

You admired Emily’s violin powering through the song as a former violin player. Seeing the fans learn the lyrics and sing the chorus. You joined Robin in swaying your hands with the rest of crowd. He shyly smiled when he was finished and you gushed at his shyness. 

 Everyone ‘woo’ed’ at the beginning of ‘Slow Hands’. You loved how the fans sang with him but gave him his moment. You giggled as he ran in a circle hi-fiving the people around him. 

His bashful smile when everyone realized ‘Meltdown’ was next warmed your heart. He was- and still is- amazed at people listening and knowing his songs. You knew how much fans loved this song- from the message to the beat. It was a great song. You weren’t surprised the were screaming it back to him. You were very happy to see the fans singing the echo, knowing that it would make it to tour.

‘This Town’ was so soft. You were glad that it wasnt filmed. It was so personal this time around and you loved it. Anytime his eyes were open they were on you and you stared right back.

He finished off with ‘On A Night Like Tonight’. His high notes in this song would always send goosebumps down your skin. He made direct eye contact with you when he moaned out his yeah. You blew him a kiss when he looked in your direction again and he waved at you with a smile

Later in the day after you had both taken a much needed nap, Niall wanted to go out and find his Vinyls and sign some. On the car ride you showed him twitter freaking out about your story then being at the performance. You were both watching to see if someone had twisted the story on the interaction from earlier, you both knew it was bound to happen, it was the matter of when.

You were Niall's videographer simply because you were getting a kick out of him being tiktok active. His PA, Benji, was with you both too. Your first stop was Target. “We're here at Target in Jersey City.” he said in his ‘jersey’ accent. “ You watched him hold back a laugh as he said it. “We’re gonna go in here and get some Vinyls out. We’re gonna get the target exclusive Vinyl, and we’re gonna sign a few, leave some there, maybe meet some of the locals. Let’s see what happens.” you followed him inside with a shit-eating grin on your face. You were having way too much fun. “ I love Target, the greatest place in the world.” he turned and he dropped his face jokingly, “are you laughing at me?” you shook the camera as if saying no. You continued walking through the target until you found the vinyls. “We’re gonna sign them, and leave a couple here.” he held up the stack of Vinyls, “target has the translucent blue version. With this beautiful photo of myself.” he mimicked the smoulder from the photo and you absolutely lost it. You laughed so hard the camera shook and Niall just shook his head at you while stealing the phone. “If your girlfriend doesn’t laugh at you is she even really your girlfriend?” you wiped the tears from your eyes before chasing after him. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry.” you sighed, taking the phone back. “You done?” and again you shook the camera as if saying yes.

Niall was stopped a handful of times to take pictures and you again were asked to be in some.

The next stop was Urban Outfitters. “We’re outside Urban Outfitters here in New York. Urban Outfitters has the frosted glass version of the Vinyl. We're gonna go in, we’re gonna buy some, sign some, leave some there, hand them out if there's any fans in here. Let’s see what happens.” you walked in behind him, camera still in hand. You walked to the Vinyl section and saw his on display. “As I said, go to your local urban outfitters to get the frosted glass version. “We’ve left some here.” he showed off before he turned around. “Hello!” the girls responded back just as cheerily and he smiled. “How’s it going? Would you like one? My album just came out.” they nodded still frozen in shock and he handed them some while taking pictures with them.

He went to ‘The Show’ photobooth and took a bunch of pictures with fans there too. You had met some really nice girls there, all saying how they were happy you won, how they voted for you, or how they were happy Niall was so happy with you. You made sure to follow them on twitter as they tagged you.

He hid the last two behind other albums and you pointed to the Up All Night vinyl and he hid it behind there before winking at the camera

You had one more short stop at a record store Niall wanted to promote and then you were both off to the hotel. You, Niall and the Band had a busy weekend ahead and the first stop was back home.

maiaquinn posted to their story

[godlizzza]

Holiday prompt: teenage danbert where herbert gets to spend christmas eve/morning with dan's family?

Herbert woke on Christmas morning with Dan's hair in his mouth. Wrinkling his nose, he eased back and spat the brown strands out, squinting at the pale light filtering in between the crack in the curtains and slicing across his face. He tried to sit up back Dan squeezed him tighter, arms locked around Herbert's waist and keeping him firmly pressed against the mattress. Herbert glanced down at him and saw Dan's mouth quirk up at the corners.

He finally opened his brown eyes to look up at Herbert and say, "Merry Christmas."

It was the same thing he'd said last night at the stroke of twelve. He'd pestered him into staying up until midnight purely to wish him a happy Christmas the second he could. Herbert had found him as trying then as he did now, but he couldn't fight the swell of fondness that rose in his chest. It was all such a Dan thing to do.

"Merry Christmas to you too," he mumbled back, poking Dan's nose and smirking at his subsequent scowl. "Sleep well? Or were you too excited thinking of Santa to get any shut eye?"

"I slept amazing," Dan replied haughtily. "But only because I had my human body pillow to keep me company."

He ducked his head down and burrowed into Herbert's chest, nuzzling his sternum hard. Herbert squirmed and shoved at his head, but Dan held firm, hands raking down Herbert's back and slipping dangerously close to his sides. Herbert instantly went stiff and grabbed Dan's wrists, halting his hands before his treacherous fingers could slip beneath the fabric of his shirt.

"Don't you tickle me," he gasped desperately. "If you do, I can't be held responsible for my reflexes."

Dan rolled his eyes but his smile was still soft and syrupy, sweetened with remnants of sleep still sticking to him. "You and your sensitive nerves..."

He gently leaned in and pressed his lips to Herbert's collarbone, where the neck of his shirt dipped low enough to expose the skin of his chest. Herbert shivered at the contact and felt Dan smile against his skin.

"Sooo sensitive," Dan went on in a whisper, trailing his lips higher and kissing Herbert's neck.

Herbert hummed somewhere in the back of his throat, his hands coming to rest on Dan's shoulders. The trouble with sharing a bed with Dan was that they always inevitably wound up here: with Dan's hands and lips and on him, pressing him into the mattress. Herbert didn't dislike it, but he did think Dan could perhaps work on not being so predictable. He was warm though. Positively toasty, in fact. The heat of his body wafted up between them, caged in by the plush comforter and forming a cocoon around them. Herbert's eyes slipped shut as Dan pressed a kiss beneath his jaw and he basked in that warmth.

They didn't have long to indulge, however, before a light rapping came at the door. Herbert opened his eyes to watch Dan blink over his shoulder towards the knocking.

"Danny, Herbert," came the chipper voice of Dan's mother, Leanne, "Are you two up yet?"

"Yeah, Mom," Dan grumbled, releasing his octopus-like grip on Herbert and sitting up. He yawned and stretched, his joints popping with the motion. He sleepily scratched at the light trail of hair dusting his stomach and smacked his lips a couple of times. "We're up."

"Oh, good!" she chirped. "I'm making eggs. Herbert, dear? How would you like yours?"

"Scrambled, please," Herbert replied, reaching for his glasses on the bedside table."

"You got it. See you two in a minute."

Leanne's voice disappeared as her footsteps grew distant, heading towards the stairs. There had been a time when she may have swung the door open with less prompting. After one particularly close call when she had nearly walked in on the two of them making out on top of the sheets, Dan had apparently concocted some story that Herbert was exceedingly private and paranoid about people walking into his room unannounced. Ever since, Leanne had gone out her way to deliberately knock and not enter until Dan gave her the go-ahead. Herbert liked her that much more for it. He couldn't imagine his own mother ever being so considerate.

He followed Dan out of the cosy bed with some regret. He'd never been much of one for Christmas, so a day spent laying beneath a pile of warm blankets sounded just as good a way to spend Christmas day than anything else he could think of. But the Christmas aspect had been what Dan was so excited to have Herbert over for, so he supposed their itinerary was to be more than simply lazing about.

"You're sure this is okay?" Herbert asked, tugging at his pajama shirt as he and Dan padded down the stairs.

Dan glanced over his shoulder, eyes flicking down to catch Herbert fiddling with his buttons, and a grin spread across his face. "Of course, it's okay. You don't need formal dress for this. It's Christmas morning, not dinner at the royal palace."

Herbert frowned but didn't fight him on it. If walking around in his plaid pajamas and socks was okay by the Cain household, he supposed that was fine. It still felt unnatural and odd though. Discomfort prickled up his spine, the irrational fear that his grandfather would spring out from behind a potted plant and accuse him of being a slob itched at the base of his skull. He ignored it though as he and Dan descended the stairs and were welcomed by the smell of frying eggs.

Leanne turned from the stove and gave them a warm smile as they entered the living room. She wore a pink Santa hat and an apron embroidered with a smiling snowman over her nightdress. She waved her spatula at them as Dan tugged Herbert over towards the glimmering Christmas tree.

His father, Scott, was down on his knees, lighting the fireplace. The chopped logs and kindling lit, the fire crackling to life in the hearth. He sat back and clapped his hands together, sending a shower of soot raining down from his palms, onto the carpet. He was also wearing his pajama bottoms, but had on a truly gaudy Christmas sweater, decorated little flashing bulbs. He smiled as Dan excitedly sat down by the stack of presents beneath the pine's green branches.

"Morning, boys," Scott greeted in his usual booming voice. "Merry Christmas."

"Thank you," Herbert replied, slowly sinking down to sit beside Dan on the plush rug. "Merry Christmas to you as well."

Dan paused in his ogling of the wrapped presents to shoot a little smile at Herbert. Herbert just glared right back, daring him to say something. He always gave him grief for being what he called 'overly polite' to his parents, but Herbert had no idea how he was supposed to talk to them otherwise. He certainly couldn't pal around with them in the casual way Dan did. That would be...obscene.

"Ready for breakfast?" Scott asked.

"Dad," Dan whined. "Can't we do the presents first?"

"Daniel Jonathan Cain," Leanne chided as she shuffled into the living room, patting down her apron. "You haven't changed since you were a baby." She shot a sparkling smile at Herbert and said, "I used to have to hide his presents in the attic. If I left them under the tree, he'd sneak them away to his room and open them early."

Dan pouted, a blush colouring his cheeks. "I did that one time."

"One time too many," Leanne corrected, then settled down on the arm of the sofa. "But I think we can put Dan out of his misery and do the presents first."

Dan pumped his fist and scrambled to grab the nearest parcel; a small box wrapped in green paper, tied off with a silver ribbon. He shredded the paper apart, flinging the scraps over his shoulders and tearing the box open to reveal a baseball. Herbert frowned slightly at this. Sure, Dan liked baseball, but didn't he have balls already? What did he need with one more? His thoughts were interrupted by Dan's loud gasp. He clutched the box tightly in his hands and brought it an inch from his nose, his eyes wide as he examined it.

"Is that-?" Dan stammered. "Dennis Eckersley?" He lowered the box and stared in wonderment at his dad, who just smiled knowingly back. "You got me a ball signed by Dennis Eckersley? How?"

"Got your Uncle Marv to go to charity auction event for me. Told him to get whatever was best. Soon as he told me he got that ball, I knew you'd love it," Scott replied with a chuckle.

"I do love it," Dan said, hugging the ball tight to his chest. "Thanks, Dad."

Scott clapped Dan on the shoulder and squeezed. Herbert watched the interaction, his eyes glued to where Scott's fingers dug into the fabric of Dan's sweatshirt. When was the last time his father had touched him? Shown him affection? Spoken to him at all? He couldn't remember. Probably not for a long time. After all, conversing with his son would hardly fit in with the busy schedule Grandfather had made for him.

Herbert watched the Cains open several more presents after that: Leanne got Scott a new lawnmower, Dan gave his parents a framed photo of the three of them on some vacation they'd all taken together, Scott got Leanne concert tickets to a band Herbert had never heard of before, and Dan opened several more presents from his parents and extended family. Herbert observed it all from his comfy spot on the floor. It seemed like a scene out of a holiday movie, full of smiles, looks of fondness, and family cheer. With the warmth of the fireplace and the scraps of torn wrapping paper at his feet, Herbert felt cosy in a way he never had on Christmas before. His Christmases were usually spent doing his summer homework from his room, watching the snow fall outside and wondering if his mother would force him to accompany her to a charity dinner.

"This one's for you, Herbert dear."

Herbert's reverie popped like a soap bubble as he came back to himself and blinked at the silver polka-dotted parcel Leanne was holding out to him. He took it without thinking, then frowned down at it in confusion.

"For me?"

"Yes, of course!" Leanne said, her hands knitted together on her lap. "I knew I had to get you something as soon as I knew you'd be spending Christmas with us. It's such a shame you can't be with your own family this year, but I hope you feel at home with us, all the same."

His parents were actually spending Christmas together for once, though it was in France, without Herbert. His father was there for business reasons, and his mother had insisted she come along, though that invitation had not been extended to their son. It suited Herbert just fine- no stuffy dinners to attend with his mother, spent being paraded and ordered to play little ditties on the piano- but Dan had been appalled when he'd told him.

"You can't spend Christmas alone," Dan had insisted.

"I won't be alone," Herbert had replied. "Colette will be there."

Dan had rolled his eyes at this. "Your maid doesn't count. No. No way. You're coming over to my house, no questions asked."

In the present, Herbert blinked at the three faces pointed his way. That uncomfortable itch was back, scraping at the nape of his neck. He had to look away, tugging at a thread on his elbow.

"Thank you, but, um. I didn't get you anything," he admitted, to which Leanne waved him off.

"Don't you worry about that. I just saw this and knew you had to have it."

"Yeah," Scott agreed, one arm around his wife's shoulders. "Go ahead, Champ. Open it up."

Herbert's eyes sought Dan, who gave him an encouraging nod. Herbert swallowed down against the dryness in his throat and did just that, peeling back the paper until a bright sweater revealed itself. He picked it up and held it out before him, the knitted wool rolling down to reveal the image woven into the fabric.

"Oh, Mom, that's great," Dan said.

"I know!" Leanne squealed, slapping Scott's leg. "Isn't it just perfect for him?"

In the middle of the green sweater was a picture of Albert Einstein wearing a Santa hat. A chain of what looked like gingerbread men holding hands was knitted into the hem of the sweater, making a ring around the waist. The cuffs were white with little atom symbols embroidered around the circumference.

"It might be a little big on you, Hon, but that's okay," Leanne said.

Dan knocked his knee against Herbert's and nodded at the garment. "Put it on," he urged.

Herbert, not knowing what else to do, wordlessly obeyed. He pulled the sweater over his head, taking care to not let the woolen strands get caught on his glasses. He threaded his arms through the sleeves then stared down at Einstein peering out from his chest. Leanne beamed, watching for his reaction.

"Do you like it?" she asked.

Herbert nodded, trailing his fingers along the soft wool. "Yes, thank you."

Leanne clapped her hands together excitedly. In that moment, she greatly resembled Dan getting ready to tear into some presents.

"I'm so glad," she sighed, pressing a hand over her breast. Then, with a click of her tongue, she rose to her feet, Scott's arm slipping from her shoulders. "Now, come along, you boys. Your eggs are getting cold."

"Yes, Maam," Scott grunted as he pushed himself from the sofa and followed after her.

He ruffled Dan's hair, earning him a cry of protest from his son, and patted Herbert's shoulder. Herbert stared at that hand on his shoulder, Scott's hand big and rough from a career spent toiling in gardens. His touch was there only for a moment, gone in a second, as though he hadn't even thought about the action at all. He paced after his wife, leaving Herbert and Dan alone by the tree.

Dan waited until his parents' voices grew faint as they entered the kitchen before turning to Herbert and speaking softly. "Well? How're you liking your first real Christmas morning?"

"Good," Herbert replied, fiddling with the hem of his sweater. "There are slightly less singing snowmen and elves than I'd anticipated, but this is still very nice."

Dan's eyebrows bumped up towards his hairline. "What kind of movies have you been watching? Without me?" When Herbert made a big show of shrugging innocently, Dan's expression broke into a grin and he ducked his chin down. Leaning forward, he murmured into Herbert's ear, "For what it's worth, I'm really happy your here. Everything's way better when you're around."

Herbert had to press his lips into a straight, hard line to keep them from doing something stupid, like tilting into a lopsided, lovesick smile. That's what being in love with Dan was like though: sickening.

"I'm glad too," was all he replied with, but Dan's smile didn't dim.

"After breakfast, we can go sledding," he said, then nodded at the window. "Look. It's snowing."

Herbert turned and saw that Dan was right. Some time since they'd woken up, snow had begun to gently fall from the sky, adding to the piles of chilly white clumps blanketing the ground. The outside world looked like a giant hand had coated everything with glittering frosting. Children were already racing out of their homes, padded in layers of coats and scarves, to build snowmen and throw snowballs at each other. Just watching them made draw his knees up to his chest and bask in the bubble of warmth that was the Cain living room.

Dan pressed a hand to Herbert's back as they both watched the neighbourhood children play. He could feel that Dan wanted to do more- hug or embrace him- but with his parents only in the next room, it was impossible. Herbert cherished that hand though, leaned back against Dan's touch, simply luxuriating in him being so near.

"That sounds like fun," Herbert said, and Dan laughed.

Maybe he could learn to love Christmas if he could spend them all like this.

[amalia-uwu]

S K Ó L I X

ΣΚΏΛΗΞ

I DONT OWN -> Undertale, Horrortale, Farmtale, the rights go to the respective owners.

Undertale by Toby Fox

Horrortale by Sour Apple Studios

Farmtale by GuinongTale_AU

Cover | Chapter 1 [ you are here] | Chapter 2 here :)

Warnings ⚠️: angst, unrealistic medical stuff, inaccurate medical stuff, blisters, gore, body horror, blood, injuries, bone injuries

Notes: I had many ideas for this and I rewrote it many times!

Moreover, you can blame my mother for igniting this idea in me!!!

Mother! Oh Mother! What did you just make me write? 🤣

I BLAME YOU FOR THIS MOTHER! (and at the same time I thank you mother!)

After 5 whole months... I'm finally posting it! (Thank you Fudgie!!)

-> Ophelia, Agatha, Hermione, Lilian, Daniella, Martha are my original characters ❤️

Enjoy 😘

🌾🌾 🌾 🌾 🌾 🌾 🌾 🌾

The first rays of sun illuminated the room.

Papyrus blinked and stretched. He looked outside the window, while sitting on his bed.

He watched in awe as the sun rose slowly, illuminating the small town.

He always loved the sunrise, sunset. Well, almost everything!

It was a pleasant morning.

He didn't have many jobs to do, most were done. He was planning to return tomorrow morning to the farm.

He got up, got dressed, ate breakfast and exited the apartment ; ready for the day.

He breathed some fresh air. Yeah, the day should be ready for the Great farmer Papyrus.

In the afternoon, he visited Ophelia. He was holding the herbs and vegetables for her and her clinic.

It was quiet so they began chatting about their days.

(At around 18.15 pm)

A nurse rushed into her office  

"Emergency! Dr. Ophelia we need you! Two monsters arrived one of them needs medical attention immediately!"

Ophelia  waved at him and ran "See ya later Harvey! (Papyrus's nickname) ".

He waved back. He prayed that whoever was here, would get well soon.

She entered the room, her heart clenched. She couldn't recognize their face.

Their bones were covered in rash, blisters, cracks, blood. Their left ulna and radius were cracked. The way it looked, indicated fall.

Their neck, face and sternum were covered in a mass of huge blisters. Their skull had swollen, making them unrecognizable.

She couldn't see their eye sockets, nose or mouth. They were that bad.

In all her years, she had to face quite shocking emergencies; this was no exception.

Their breathing was ragged almost inaudible.

She noticed some twitching in their fingers. Blood and magic oozed, soaking the sheets under their body.

They were laying naked on the surgical table. Save for a fabric over their pelvis (that was soaked in blood, fluids and magic too).

Ophelia run to their side and threw a quick glance "prepare anesthesia".

"Their stats are quite low, like really low, I'm afraid to use complete anesthesia" Lilian mentioned while putting on his gloves.

"Then we are going to lower the potency. We will add local anesthesia." Ophelia informed as she put on her gloves and the nurses finished dressing her.

They nodded and got ready.

"Agatha, you and I will start with the face and neck okay? Lilian, Hermione you take care of the ribs, do the best you can. The rest stay close for assistance".

They nodded.

Few stood on the left side and the others on the right side.

They prepared all the necessary tools and began action.

They added some medicine in the IV.

Each doctor and nurse took a hold of a special injection. They lined up.

When they found a spot that was visible they injected the anesthesia.

They therefore used a special antiseptic gel to pat the blisters in all of the patient's body.

Some seconds passed and the blisters broke / popped; fluid, blood and magic oozed.

She checked their stats. The stats were falling. "Nurse?! The HP! Inject the light green medicine in the IV!" the nurse nodded and did what she was told.

The HP stopped going down. It went a little up.  

Ophelia looked at Agatha, "Agatha, clean the face, do what you can. I'll check the neck". Agatha nodded.

Ophelia moved on to the neck. She began inspecting and cleaning.

As she was cleaning she noticed a spot that looked quite different. She frowned and leaned closer to inspect.

She gently touched it. She pushed and removed fluids and a stinger.

She put it in a special case to look at it later. They checked their soul beat. Steady. The doctors added more medicines in the IV.

As she was cleaning, she looked at Lilian and Hermione that were cleaning the sternum.

The rest  of nurses  took care of the hands, legs and offered assistance when needed; just as they were told.

She noticed that the patient was leaking a lot. No matter how much the doctors were cleaning them; the fluids, clotted magic and blood kept coming.

Ophelia was checking their statistics many times.

Ophelia looked at a nurse "Daniella, please keep injecting a small dose of the light green medicine. It will keep their statistics steady". Daniella nodded.

Daniella kept doing that when Ophelia ordered her.

Ophelia and Agatha switched works. Ophelia began cleaning the face and Agatha the neck.

Hermione and Lilian the ribs, some nurses the hips.

She repeated the procedure; they used an antibacterial gel and gently patted it on the patient's body to prevent infection.

As they were working; the patient's body arched upwards.

Ophelia and the rest stopped what they were doing; anesthesia was wearing off.

The poor soul; let out ragged, choked breaths and gurgling sounds.

Their soul beat got higher. Their choked anguished groaning of discomfort broke the doctors's heart.

Ophelia with a gloved hand,  caressed their collarbone and spoke as softly as she could.

"Hey, it's okay! I know! The difficult part is almost over! It's okay, ssshh" She motioned to Daniella and pointed to the IV.

Daniella nodded and injected sedatives and painkillers in the IV.

"You are a pretty strong skeleton!Now I want you to relax! We are here to help you, don't worry! You are in good hands" Ophelia's voice was soft, comforting.

Their movements calmed down and went slack. Their soul beat had calmed down.

"Pretty good! I'll just clean your face now yes?" there was no reply.

Their chest rose and fall softly. They twitched their fingers.

"Was someone else with them?" she asked as she continued cleaning.

Hermione replied "Yes, another skeleton. They teleported here with him on their arms. They begged desperately that we will help him. We assured them that we will do what we can. They are waiting outside".

She nodded, too focused on her work.

It took hours (around 4) to clean their body.

Eventually they could see,

who they,

Who he was.

Ophelia's eyes widen..

Her hands trembled...

End of part 1!

I'm excited yet nervous for this fic!...

Who do you think is the patient? We'll have to wait and see in next chapter ;)

CHAPTER 2

Comments, Constructive Criticism, Feedback, fanarts, fanfics are welcomed! 💙

[deathlysilent13]

DPxDC Fic Snippet: Selina Finds Hurt Danny

(Basic backstory for understanding: Selina finds Danny hurt. This is absoltuly a Bad Fenton Parents WIP. He's hurt enough that he's retreated into his core and Selina took him home and has been keeping him safe until he can reform.)

Morning dawns and leaves the cat burglar behind. She doesn’t rouse until just after 11, as per usual, but when she starts to stretch out, she notices a weight on her chest that hadn’t been there before. She nearly panics, opening her eyes to see fluffy black hair. Confused, she tilts her head to look over the face attached to all the fluffy locks and has to bite down fresh panic at the literal child curled up on top of her. She’d rescued a teenager with white hair, and somehow ended up with a possible black-haired toddler.

The boy stirs, groaning lightly, and only then does she look over at her nightstand to see the little nest she’d made for her orb empty. “Oh,” the boy whispers, sounding like it hurts to speak. 

Selina sits up slowly, keeping one hand wrapped around the boy. She won’t just fling him onto the floor like an unruly cat, after all. This is still a child, even if she has no idea where he came from. The boy stays curled against her, only whimpering once in pain. Selina’s concern grows. 

She shuffles her pillows around so she can lean back just enough to keep the boy lying comfortably while still being upright enough to try and talk to him. “Good morning,” she says softly, not wanting to alarm the boy. 

He nuzzles into her sternum briefly before finally looking up and pinning her with stunning cerulean irises. “You’re the one who found me, right?” he asks softly, still very clearly hoarse. 

Selina nods. “If you’re the white-haired teenager we pulled off that silver boat, then yes,” she replies, needing the confirmation. 

The boy sighs, his eyes closing again. “I didn’t….I’d hoped……” he murmurs, likely to himself. She cards her fingers through his hair, gently detangling as she goes. She wants to push, to know what was going on, but whatever had made him young may also send him running. She knows all too well how well untethered children fare in Gotham, after all. 

They lay quietly for some time. “My parents didn’t know,” the boy finally murmurs again. “Not for ages. I thought they’d love me more than they hated ghosts.” She feels the shudders first, but it doesn’t take long for the tears to start soaking her shirt. She expects to be mildly disgusted, at least, but finds as she sits there and holds him that all she feels is sorrow. No one should be broken of the belief that they’re a parent’s priority. 

She doesn’t do anything but pet him until his stomach rumbles, and hers answers. Even with his face still smushed against her sternum, she can see his face going red. “I should still have some leftover pizza,” she says, grinning when his head pops up with much more enthusiasm than she’d seen from him thus far. “Come on, up with you. There should be a spare toothbrush, and then you can decide if you want food first or a shower.” He doesn’t go far, but all she really needs is for him to slide off. 

She scoops him up, warming at the way he squeaks and flails but curls back into her anyway. She takes him into the bathroom, letting him sit on the counter while she pulls out a fresh toothbrush. Thankfully, he doesn’t argue, and the whole ordeal goes quickly. He blushes red again, however, when he asks if he can stay for a minute and points to the toilet. Far from being bothered, Selina simply ruffles his hair and tells him to wash his hands when he’s done. 

She’s in the kitchen, a nearly full box of cold, mismatched pizza from the previous night giving him options when he wanders through, clearly hesitant. She gestures to a chair, trying not to baby him since he is, or was, a teen and she remembers all too well how each of the Robins got about their independence. She won’t intrude if she doesn’t have to. 

He climbs up, eying the box, and she does nothing more than take a second slice out and slide it over. “Help yourself,” she says as though it isn’t important. “I don’t usually have leftovers when the girls come over, so I’ll probably forget I have it anyway.” It’s a bit of an exaggeration, but it has him digging into the food with enough gusto that she’s probably right in it being entirely too long since he had actual food, and she’ll happily sacrifice an entire pizza to him if it helps. She’s gonna have to ask the hard questions soon enough anyway. 

[existentialcynic]

mint toothpaste and cherry shampoo

Sometimes home smells like detergent, perfume, mint toothpaste and cherry shampoo.

Pairing(s): alex blake x gn!reader

Word count: 880

Warning(s): none :)

The first thing you notice is a tickling against your nose when you exhale. Reaching to drag your palm down the front of your face, your hand never reaches its destination. This is the second thing you notice - one arm is trapped under the warm body that fits perfectly against your chest, the other tangled underneath a worn cotton shirt. Chuckling, the air you let out makes the silky locks covering your face graze your cheeks. The fading scent of a cherry shampoo is all you can smell when you finally open your eyes, face full of the offending brown strands that had woken you up in the first place.

Your laugh had chipped at the little bubble you were in, the cherry scented girl in your arms shuffling further into your embrace before sleep overtook her once more. Neither of you had bothered to close the curtains the night before, and now they let unfiltered sunlight into the room you share, accompanied by the soft crooning of a mourning dove. It cut through the chestnut locks before you, the lighter strands looking almost red with the warm tint of the sun. Pressing your face into the cotton shirt - one that was stolen apparently, since it was yours but you were definitely not wearing it - you inhale, laundry detergent and perfume that is all but gone flooding your senses.

The bubble finally pops. A yawn escapes the woman in your arms, followed by a content hum when she realises that you’re now rubbing feather-light circles on her sternum with your fingers. Wrapping her hand around your wrist, Alex pulls your palm away before flipping to her stomach, neck to the side and cheek resting on the back of her hands. Her eyes slip closed, a glimpse of a smile on her lips when you resume the soft caress on her lower back where the stolen shirt rides up.

Dragging your palm up her spine, your hand reaches the nape of her neck as you card your fingers through the smooth strands and brush them away from her face. Brown, cat-like eyes blink up at you, the soft lashes catching in the ever-rising sun that is still streaming through the glass panes across the room. A voice, slurred and deliciously rough, meets your ears.

“Hey.”

“Did you sleep okay?”

You feel her head nod as you continue to gently work your hand through the hair that had tangled in her sleep. “I missed you.” 

You don’t even bother to hide the smile that spreads across your face as you lean forward to give her lips a soft peck; one of many that you’ve gifted her since she came home the night before. “I missed you more,” you return, kissing her again so all she can do is chuckle at your antics.

Alex finally shuffles back from your hold, earning an annoyed sound from the back of your throat. “I need to brush my teeth sweetheart,” she whispers, kissing your cheek and sitting up. Arms raising up in the air in a stretch bring the hem of her - your - shirt with them, prompting you to caress the soft skin you had seen, touched, and kissed a million times before. “You look good in my clothes,” you murmur, causing a soft pink blush to bloom on your girlfriend’s cheeks.

“I brought it with me on the case.” With that, she grabs her pyjama pants from the end of the bed and pulls them on before shuffling to the bathroom, still not quite awake. This time you try and fail to suppress the smile, biting your lower lip. When you hear the tap turn on, you follow in Alex’s footsteps, forgoing pants.

Pressing her back to your front, your hands find their way home under her shirt, gently squeezing the soft tummy you find in your hold. Chin resting on her shoulder, you bring your gaze up to the mirror. Alex is already looking at you. You swear you can see her pupils dilate, smiling around her blue toothbrush as the sharp scent of her minty toothpaste takes over your senses. She tilts her body forward to spit in the sink, holding your stare as she says, “you’re not wearing any pants.”

“Why would I if the only reason I got out of bed was to come and bring you back to it?”

Alex lets out a breath that doubles as a laugh, rinsing her brush and mouth before turning in your embrace. She brings her hands up to cup your cheeks, palms slightly cold from holding the marble counter. Tugging your face towards hers, you meet her halfway and press your lips together. “Hi love,” she murmurs, your lips still brushing as she talks because she doesn’t bother to move from your embrace. “Hi baby.” You kiss her again, engulfed by her scent, her touch. If this is what drowning is like, you would jump in the water at the first chance you got.

When you pull back Alex chases your lips, making you hum when she presses her body as far as she can into yours. Hands migrating to your shoulders, she pushes the both of you back in the direction of your still-warm mattress. “Missed me, huh?”

“You have no idea.”