#I am wobbly but the food won’t food

[stereotypical-something]

God hates me

[togament]

i firmly believe that togame is BY FAR the best pussy eater of all the boys and no, i am not taking criticism. you straddling his face with your wet cunt in the morning is his perfect breakfast and judging by the noises he makes it's honestly hard to tell who's enjoying it more. i go will bathe in holy water now kbye.

Anon. YOUR MIND. Let me in for a little bit real quick I’m trying to see something 😳😳! But anyway yes I see!!! I see you!! I see the vision!!!!!! I agree. The man’s an undefeated eating champion. Eating FOOD ok lol puss puss eating champion does work too 😳 *adjusts glasses, stretches back* let me just work on a little somethin’—

𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞.

“Ngghh—Jo! W-wait a sec-“, you yelp, knees bent comfortably on your pillow with your plump thighs trapped in your lover’s strong clutches as he’s needlessly lapping away at your beautiful, juicy petals like a man starved. “T-the breakfast!”, you manage to add, warning him of the toast that’s definitely burning, your coffee now forgotten. Pulling away momentarily, he mumbles a slow teasing, “got mine right here,” against your flesh before he dives in again once more.

Feeling a sense of weakness in your legs, you stagger slightly and he immediately hooks his arms over your plumpness to secure you. Secure you so you won’t wobble again. To secure your pussy to his needy and hungry mouth. He licks a fat strip up your pussy before he nuzzles his nose into your clit, lapping and lapping at your juices.

Good God. You hold desperately on your bed-frame, knuckles a pasty white. You can feel him smiling into your cunt when you continue soaking his wanting lips. This bitch.

Looking to your side, you can see the sun peeking from behind the curtains—it’s barely risen, the sky a gradient sliver of azure and rust. You momentarily think back on the times he’s shown you how much of an eater he could be. Food, definitely. Never occurred to you he’d be this ravenous when eating you out. Thrown out of your thoughts, your lover sucks and laps harshly at your clit and you let out a delicious moan so loud you’re sure your waking neighbors could have heard you. Clasping a hand over your mouth, you stare down at your lover between your legs.

His eyes are shut, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. But once he feels you staring, he opens them. Emerald eyes boring into your skin, your breasts and blushing face a delicious sight to him. It only makes him need you more. With another harsh suck on your nub, he mutters, “eyes on me, doll.” and you obey. How could you not? With that voice? Yes sir.

Now you’re there, pinned underneath Togame, legs deliciously spread on your couch so obediently for him. His head’s trapped between your thighs again. The sun’s fully risen now. You both managed to make it to the kitchen to turn the coffee maker and toaster on but he’s got you in his grip as soon as they’re off.

Fingers tangled his hair, you urge him to move, your hips bucking into his tongue and clit bumping against his tall nose. He hums into it, sending shivers and vibrations up to your head you swear you feel high. A mixture of “G-god yes-!”, “You’re so good, baby-“, “right there!” and other expletives escape your reddened lips. You shudder as you squirt around him for the 5th time this morning, gripping at his hair tightly. He hums once more, tongue rapidly working away at you with his three fingers knuckle deep inside you. “Sweet-“, he says with a hungry lick, so annoyingly slow, “s’fuckin’ sweet t’me. Give me more-“ his voice grew a tad demanding, with his grip tightening around your legs he moves against the couch to ease his cock lazily. It’s been hard and leaking ever since you started. “More.” his licking grows more intense, hooking his fingers up to your gummy insides, prodding away at the sensitive bud. Your moans grow louder while he expertly devours you. You don’t want him to stop but you’re so fucking sensitive— “w-wait!! I-“ a desperate plea you mutter, but he manages to rip another one from you. You’re absolutely gushing. He hasn’t made you squirt this much—to soak the couch under your ass. But your lover doesn’t stop. Not until your legs stop shaking. God he’s hungry.

Minutes later you’re both lying there, sweaty and breathless, couch completely soaked. You massage his scalp weakly as he peppers kisses along your soft flesh. Neither of you utter a single word for a good while.

He reaches over to your side to grab some tissues to clean you up with. He pauses when he feels something hard hit his hand. He almost feels apologetic when he knew what it was.

He grabs a familiar bottle. Opening it, he squeezes a healthy amount of it on your still sensitive cunt and your inner thighs.

Flavored lube.

Your eyes widen as you feel yourself grow needier. Fuck is he grateful to have such a giver. Easing your legs open, he licks a line of the lubricant slowly, licking around your clit just to mess with you. Pressing kisses and kitty licks along the flesh, around and above the sensitive bud. You whine.

He gives you a lazy smile, fingers rubbing along your folds once more.

“Y’gonna give me another one right, doll?” he says so slowly, so low you swear it sounds like a growl. His head dips down, hot breath directly on your waiting pussy.

“M’not done yet.”

a/n: eheheHEHEHEHE. Thank you for sending that in, anon. I am now dipping and swimming in a pool of holy water. TOGAME THE EATER TOGAME THE EATEEEERRRRR 🗣️🗣️

[bee-wg]

Year 3:

Now that I think about it, football has been a constant in my life for five years now. I’m not sure if I enjoy football anymore; it used to be about the fun we have passing the ball, now it’s all about the stats or the perfect form. 

I stood up from the bleachers to hand Brad his towel.

“I’m going to leave the team, Brad,” I said.

“What? Where did this come from?” He said frantically.

“Everyone knows I’m still on the team because you’re the team’s captain now,” I said.

“I don’t want to cause tension between you and Coach. There’s nothing I could do wobbling around the field anyway,” I added.

“Dude, you know I started playing football because of you, right?” Brad said.

“Bradley, relax. I’m not dead. You can come over to my house whenever you want.” I said.

“Theo can make you some lemon pudding cakes if you want to come,” hopefully this will calm him.

“Fine. Just so you know, I’m not happy about this,” he said, sounding like a brat.

“Okay, got it. Have fun at the party,” I chuckled.

“I won’t. I’m going to make the DJ play Lana Del Rey,” he said before entering the locker room.

There might be an oversight of me quitting football.

It’s literally the reason why I quit. I don’t know why it never crossed my mind.

How the fuck am I going to lose weight now?

“Maybe I would’ve thought it if the word, “exercise” was anywhere on my to-do list this past year,” the voice from the back of my head said.

Shut up, rational thought. I was just a little too cocky, that’s all.

My mind spins around the paths I could take to shed the fat.

Back to the gym for the bodybuilders to laugh at me jiggling like a puddle of slime on the treadmill.

No. Hard no.

Stop eating whatever Theo puts in front of my face.

Productive, but I’d rather die than miss out on the joy of the world.

Post my weight loss journey edits on social media, reminiscing on my rock-hard abs like a depressed, fat person.

No? No, actually it might just work.

My thumbs got to work. It took me an hour to choose a profile picture that represents me. I could go for a vacation photo by the beach, or the classic black and white moody gym pic. Except, I don’t have a picture of myself on my phone, so I chose the picture of an orange cat eating a banana.

With my camera set up, in my favourite green tank top. I pressed record.

It was an embarrassing experience editing myself, watching my belly sway every time I made a movement. In the end, I closed my eyes and uploaded the video.

“Oh! First comment already.” I said.

“Look at those milkers spilling out the tanks!”

3. Post my weight loss journey edits on social media, reminiscing on my rock-hard abs like a depressed, fat person.

The following weeks consisted of me eating my feelings. At least half of my classes are online this semester. I can be embarrassed in peace.

The pounds kept creeping up with each spoon of ice cream down my throat. In the blink of an eye, I am dangerously close to 300 pounds.

I finally worked up the courage to ask during a normal family dinner.

“Honey, what happened? You’re not eating as fast as usual. Is Theo not cooking enough?” Mom asked.

“No, Mom, I just…I just hope you guys can ease up with your little cooking competitions.”

“Oh honey, you know Theo and I will stop with the food whenever you ask.” Mom tries to reassure me.

“No! Obviously don’t stop the food. It’s just that I’ve been blowing up like a pig and I don’t know what to do about it.” I said.

“I didn’t know you were sad about it. I just want my family to be happy, you look the happiest when you eat,” Mom said

“It wouldn’t have helped when you guys lost for the past two years,” Mom added.

“Well, Dad likes to eat better, and no one eats like him,” I replied. 

“I’m sure my cooking was the reason we won. David is a gym teacher, he walks off the food easily,” Mom said.

“Theo is a professional though, no offence but no one on the planet cooks like him. I’m sure football was the reason we lost,” I said, trying to talk some sense into her.

Theo stares at us with wide eyes.

“Jacob, I’m sure you didn’t mean it,” Mom said with a blank face.

“You know what? Keep doing your competition, this time again next year we’ll see who’s the winner,” I said.

I am clearly a failure at losing weight. The only thing I’m good at is eating. If I’m going to gain weight anyway, I’m going to go all out and win this shit once and for all. Once this is settled, I can get back to normal. Not wanting to disappoint Theo when we lose again was probably the thing holding me back. I can’t wait to eat all the delicious things Theo is- I can’t wait for this to be over.

“Alright, Jay,” she turned to Theo and said.

“Theo, my boy. I’m looking forward to seeing the results next year,” Mom said with a determined smile.

Everyone knows not to mess with Mom when she has that look. Even then, I feel like we could still win. Theo’s food is hypnotic already when I am restrained; imagine what it will do to me when I’m going all out.

“What’s going on again?” Dad asked with cheeks full of pasta.

“Don’t worry baby, you just need to eat a little more next year,” Mom answered.

“Okay, as long as I get my lasagnas,” Dad said.

Later at night, struggling to sleep, I contemplated on the bad decisions I’ve made. This one might take the crown to be the stupidest thing I’ve done. Yet, I don’t regret it.

“You didn’t have to stand up for me,” Theo said.

“It’s the least I can do when you wake up early to prep for my food, or go off on the weekends for groceries when you could’ve been doing anything else,” I explained.

“Thank you so much, Jay. You don’t know how much this means to me. My family wanted me to do anything other than cooking, but you guys have been nothing but supportive,” he said.

I smiled at the ceiling. The gremlin is nicer than I remember.

“Now, I won’t allow you to slack anymore with the amount you’re eating. Not until the competition ends.”

Huh?

Theo had stuck to his word and increased the amount he was cooking. I am now eating the amount of three people in each spread-out meal, still lacking behind Dad’s impressive five person’s amount per meal. So I have been playing catch up with him this entire month.

I realized quickly that I had underestimated the gap between Dad and my appetite. In the last few years, for the most part, I have been eating whatever I want, leaving the rest to Dad. With the exception of eating for the team once a week, I have been slacking. That was quite a hard pill to swallow. I’m 300 pounds, yet not doing a good job as a fatass. How is that possible?

So far I have gained about 23 pounds in the past two months. Normally, I would freak out and have a breakdown in bed because I’ve gained more than my freshman year in two months. Right now with my messed up head, all I can think about is how far I am behind. If we lose this again, it would be once and for all, and I would never let myself live this down. Theo deserves better with how good he’s been treating me.

With my new bulk, the stairs have been an increasing challenge. So, a few weeks ago I moved downstairs to a tiny guest room that was converted to a storage room.

The moment I moved down, I could hear Theo’s voice yelling, “Yes, Finally! Goodbye insomnia,” In my old bedroom. Before, I would’ve yelled for the brat to shut up. Now, with my stomach full. I just wanted a nap in peace.

It took me no time to adjust to the new arrangement. With more time home from all the online classes, I get to be as lazy as I want. Dad has a similar arrangement at home. He retired from being a high school gym teacher and football coach, now he tutors history at home. He also abandoned his hobby of brewing in order to laze on the sofa all day.

On weekdays, Theo would leave an abundance of food for me to consume with a list of how I should eat them to expand my capacity. The weekends are like heaven. From the moment I woke up, Theo would prepare delicious appetizers and pancakes for me. From then on, I would have a constant stream of food flowing into my mouth every thirty minutes. Sometimes, I would move my hands and my mouth would start to chew unconsciously. Alarming, but helpful. 

My belly started to expand outwards on my lap each day as I sat in front of the computer. The arm rest would feel more snug when I move around.

I have now discovered the perks of being a fatass. I can explore things I never had time to do, like the anime Brad has been begging me to watch, games I always wanted to play. Best of all is to experience all of these without moving an inch. These are the things I would definitely look back on with fondness when the competition ends.

***

Today is my rare outing of the month; the bus is late again but I don’t blame them this time. The downpour of rain is gathering at the clogged sewer, creating a puddle. People are supposed to grow out of stepping in puddles when they’re kids. These undeveloped assholes apparently didn’t. Several cars saw the puddle and decided to splash it straight to my face.

It’s fine. It’s all fine. I will feel better later.

I walked a small trail after getting off the bus.

Great. The angels decide to stop peeing from the heavens when I’m about to get inside.

Dad is buying a new SUV, maybe I can drive it next time. It’s too big to sneak off though.

I thought as I skipped through the stone pathway. The usual grass is covered by the water, creating a small pond.

“Annyeonghaseyo,” I said to the door cam.

After pressing the doorbell several times, it replied.

"안녕, fuck boy. Back so soon?" Number Seven said.

“Yeah, yeah. Just open the damn door,” I said, trying to hurry the fucker.

Number Seven’s face appears in front of me.

“You’re soaked! Come on in,” he said.

His house appears to be orderly. Clean. He must’ve had another fatass here not long ago.

“Woah, you look—Wait, let me guess. Another fifteen pounds since last time?” He asked.

“Come on, let’s cut to the chase. I really need it right now,” I urged.

“Hahaha, not even a shower. Desperate much?” He said.

I walked inside his bedroom, dimmed the lights and took off my shirt.

He walked towards me. Grabbing me by the belly hang in one hand, he pulls down my underwear, causing my ass to vibrate.

“Fuuuuck, can you take it out first?” I asked, trying not to moan.

“Sure, you think you’re ready for me today?” He asked.

“Yeah, I think so,” I answered. 

He slid his hand behind, right down my ass crack and slowly pulled the vibrator off. I applied it before leaving home, without accounting for the possibility of the bus delay.

“Mmmmph, fuck,” I groaned.

I’ve been training towards today for a while. In the beginning, I would come to his house and he would suck me off. If I’m feeling experimental, I would suck him off. It stayed like that for about a year and he never complained. Then I asked him for more. He would start fucking me between my moobs or between my ass but never enter. One day, I told him I was ready for him to start fucking me.

Big mistake.

He’s a manwhore for a reason. I didn’t think an 8-inch would be so hard to take. How the girls and twinks take them in porn is beyond me. It was painful when he entered, even when he said he had “loosened my hole” with his fingers. I shouldn’t have believed him, the fucking thing was massive.

After the incident, he gave me small dildos and vibrators to get used to it. We eventually worked our way up the scale until the one he’s holding now. Why did I do all this work to have a men’s dick in my ass? Who knows. I have already accepted that I’ve lost it.

He sucked on my nipple suddenly. The sensation took me by surprise.

“Dude, some warnings please,” I asked.

“Yeah, sorry. Those tits are just so plumped. Your nipples have grown larger than my thumbs now,” he said, about to continue.

“OKAY, I get it. Can you get to work now?” I asked.

My boobs are what everyone thinks about when they see me these days. I’m sick of it.

“Hahahaha, can’t wait to be fucked, my pig?” He said before pushing me down the mattress.

I held my belly to stop it from jiggling. 

He raised one of my legs and opened the bottle of lube with his teeth.

“There’s something by the pillow. Put it in your mouth. It will distract you and dull the initial pain,” Number Seven instructed.

I reached out to grab a—frosted pound cake?

I’ve never seen people doing this in porn, but I’m smart enough to know not everything in porn is real. 

With my mouth full of cake, I spread out my legs, trying to relax so I don’t end up like last time.

He pushed two fingers in, slowly massaging me, then three fingers to stretch my hole. When the frosting melted in my mouth and I finished the chunk of the cake, he signalled me that he was done.

Another piece of the pound cake fills my mouth when he aligns his cock to my hole. He was right, I was fully consumed by the sweetness to notice any discomfort. I quickly swallowed the cake so he could proceed. 

It was unbearably slow as he entered. I don’t understand what all the fuss is about with people bottoming.

He kept asking for reassurance. At this point I just want him to st—

“A-ahhhh oh shiiit!” I moaned.

“Fuuuuuck, what the hell was that?” I screamed.

I must have been too loud and spooked him.

“Are you alright? Sh-should I call an ambulance?” He asked.

“No! Don’t stop, please,” I begged

“Okay, just so you know, I’m not all the way in,” He said.

How? This is already longer than any toys I’ve put in there.

“Gnghhhhh~” I moaned as he thrusts all the way to the bottom.

He kept a steady pace all the way in then almost all the way out, leaving me feeling empty.

“Hurry! Faster,” I asked, almost in tears.

He looked at me with a devious smile and thrust right into the spot.

“Mphn- Yes! Keep going,” I urged.

Every small movement rubbing my G-spot feels like masturbating for hours without release.

He thrusts quicker with more force, causing my belly and moobs to shake violently. 

I try to stabilize my belly with my hand before trying to reach my throbbing cock.

“Help, I-aghh fuck, I need to touch my dick,” I asked.

“Let go of your belly, fat boy. Or I’ll stop,” He said.

Immediately, my belly returned to wobble violently.

“I can’t believe you turned into such a pathetic horny mess in such a short time,” He said.

”Come on, Seven. I just need you to hit that spot. Please, I’ll do anything!” I begged.

He keeps deliberately missing it. I need to be fucked there!

“Keep your hands on your nipples,” he ordered.

The over-sensitive nipples drive my weeping cock into a frenzy.

Fuck, I need to touch my cock right now. If only my fucking belly is not on the way.

“You know, when I first saw you, I thought you were the kind of jock to gain a beer belly in college, and not get fat until you turn thirty,” he said, before ramming straight into my prostate.

“Fuuuuck yeahhh,” I said unintelligently. 

“You are much more of a pig than I realized,” he said, thrusting straight into it again.

“Helll yeahhh,” I said, trying to rob my ass to his dick.

“How do you feel seeing your bubble butt balloons four times the original size?” He asked, followed by another thrust. 

“I fucking love it! I love how it wobbles around whenever I walk!” I said, moving my jiggling ass back to his dick again.

“How do you feel seeing your abs growing before your eyes, knowing you could stop it if you just stop eating?”Another thrust.

“I can’t help it! I love eating too much!” Maybe I am meant to be a fat ass.

“Right answer. Now you’ll get your reward,” he said and sped up, hitting the spot perfectly every time.

I imagine his face to be someone else, someone far from my league.

My cock rubbed against my sensitive underbelly, and I shot out jets of cum for what felt like forever.

As white clouded my vision, a euphoric relief spread over my body, melting me into the mattress.

“You passing out again, fuck boy?” Seven asked.

“No, just enjoying the bliss. I can’t believe so many men in the world are missing out on this,” My hole already feels empty. How am I going to go back from this?

“Aww man, I’m all sticky and shit,” I examined my body, cum shots and rain definitely don’t mix well together. Some of them even got between the fat folds. I swipe my finger in between the fat. “Oof, I stink too.”

Seven looked at me and signed. “You’re somehow still a stupid jock inside.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked.

“I got you the fast food you asked for,” he said.

“Yes!” I rushed to the kitchen.

Ignoring his stupid laugh, I microwaved the burger and fries.

The breeze of the air conditioning reminds me of something.

“Shit, I ran out here naked.”

When I ran back, he had already put my clothes in the dryer, and I got into the shower.

When I got out, Seven brought me an old shirt I left here. It fits me like a glove with half my belly exposed. He stopped laughing when I was about to throw myself on him, then brought out a shirt with the Flash’s symbol on. Probably from another fat ass he fucks. The shirt still looks painted on, revealing the shape of my nipple and the dent of my belly button. At least he’s driving me home.

***

Staying at home has been a life-altering experience. 

The only time I ever move is going out of the bed to the desk, or to the bathroom. All I have to do is sit back, relax, and eat some fried food. 

With more time with myself. I’ve realized how much I dislike all the people in school that only approached me because I was one of the football jocks. I could’ve been anyone. Now, I am me. Not a worry about whether or not I’m muscular enough like other jocks, just a bigger Jay.

Sitting beside me, Dad scratched his belly and released a belch without a care in the world. He has adapted to fat guy mannerisms quickly. I’m catching up too. Today is movie night, usually we have pizzas and beers. We started this when the football season came, he asked to skip it. It was the first time we’ve skipped watching a Super Bowl season. I guess I’m not the only one losing interest in the sport. We decided to watch the Lin-Manuel Miranda Monkey movie instead.

Being on the couch with Dad made me realize I was getting closer to my goal. I can’t wait to see the results.

***

“Hell yeah, my man, you can do it!” Brad said, slapping my shoulder.

“What are you doing here?” I asked

“You said I can come in whenever I like,” he replied.

He’s been breaking into my house for no reason, just to stay on the second floor the entire time doing god knows what.

“I’ve brought some beef jerky here to celebrate,” Brad said.  

The scale has been set up, we’re only waiting on Mom. They’re doing some last minute catch up; mom is using a funnel to pour some milkshake in him. I am not concerned though, sticking to Theo’s strict diet every day has not been easy. I have to eat until my stomach is fully bloated. Every morning, I watch my belly deflate a little less, every evening, it bloats even further. 

“Don’t worry, Jay. We’ve got this,” Theo assured me.

“By the way, what are we doing again?” Brad asked.

Dad came out, looking absolutely massive. With Mom on his side, he stepped on the scale.

The numbers keep going up and don't seem to be stopping.

300-350-392-400-443

Holy shit, Dad gained a hundred and forty pounds this year. 

With more uncertainty, I took my step on the scale.

“Woo-Hoo, Jay man, you got this!” Brad shouted quietly.

I try to look under to see the number, but my belly is too big for me to see the scale.

Theo stepped closer and read. 

“Four Hundred and fifty yes!” Theo cheered.

“I won? Yes, finally!” I said and did a little jump.

The scale made a “Pop” noise.

“Oh! Sorry, Mom. I know this is really expensive.”

“Don’t worry, sweetie. We need to upgrade anyway,” Mom said, then she walked towards Theo.

“Congratulations Theo, you made me pull out every trick in my book. It’s so nice seeing you improve so much in front of my eyes, in terms, you pushed me to improve too,” Mom said, then hugged Theo.

“I can’t believe my boy is bigger than me now. Excellent work, Jay!” Dad said and hugged me, too.

Last time I was bigger than Dad I had sculpted abs, the body I dreamed of. This time, I’m almost three times the size as I was, fully covered with fat. Yet, I feel less empty inside.

“Thank you Dad,” I said, hugging him back. 

After all this time, I finally have a body I like being in. The belly doesn't look so wrong on me anymore.

Chapter 4 ->

[heilos]

Living Harmony AU relevant character sheets/info: Harmony aka the "Tree of Harmony" Stygian Shadow Lock Starswirl the Bearded Somnambula is the next pillar up on the list with an updated design, courtesy of my buddy Ori, and a fresh character sheet from me. Her and Mistmane are the two pillars that ended up getting a species swap with their rewritten backstories for this AU. Bat ponies were super underutilized in the MLP G4 show and the idea of Somnambula and her town being mostly made up of Egyptian fruit bat ponies was super fun to think about. Listed below is some character and story context for these sketches provided by my myself and Ori like usual. Hope you enjoy!

Pillar of Aspiration

Bat pony from ancient Neighgypt

Comes from a village made up of mostly bat ponies with some of the other standard pony races sprinkled in and a healthy population of anubis style diamond dogs

Not a princess, but the equivalent of high nobility in her culture. Had cash to burn and was very generous in giving her wealth to the less fortunate in her village be it money, food, clothing etc...

Was also an advisor to the Pharaoh and Prince Hisan

Her village was trapped in a collective dream by a huge mythical Sphinx that hails from the dream realm. It would have turned Somnambula’s ponies into dreamless husks had she not broken free and solved the Sphinx’s riddles, which were the basis of its magic.

Somnambula’s artifact, the Sphinx’s Crescent Moon, is a trinket she stole straight from the Sphinx’s headpiece. Affixing it to her tiara, it allows her free travel between the dreaming and physical realms. Though, spending so much time in the Dream Realm as a mortal pony has its consequences…

Gained a weird aura about her after breaking the Sphinx’s spell. A small radius around her is folded into dream space, which makes it difficult to perceive her normally. She’s essentially a friendly cognitohazard. Take a good look, because you won’t be able to recall her face later. Lucid dreamers can see past this effect.

Has a somewhat eerie quality to her that she likes to play up. Dispenses philosophical queries just to mess with ponies such as: “Perhaps I am merely a fruit bat dreaming that she is a pony” or “Perhaps this is a dream, you don’t know!”

Has sharp teeth, but they’re meant for biting into fruits. Sometimes will joke about "gobbling" someone up if they get too close

Sleeps like a regular bat by hanging upside down. The bottom of bat pony hooves can grip many different surfaces for this purpose

Firmly believes in making your dreams into reality

Ancient Equestrians would call upon her name for protection in their dreams

Dream walked so Princess Luna could dream run

Somnambula is Luna's favorite pillar and legend

Is celebrated with a statue of her in the center of the town “Somnambula” in modern Equestria. However it incorrectly depicts her as a pegasus pony instead of a bat pony due to wibbly wobbly history record keeping and/or the strange dream like effect that surrounds her

Somnambula’s Weather Abjuration (The Crystalling Part 2 - 16:26) is a spell named after her, though she herself had no hoof in its creation. It’s very likely that this weather ward was made after the perception of Somnambula shifted into her being a pegasus

Somnambula redesign by Orin331

[eddaawrites]

Flu season - Chris Sturniolo

A/n hey, so this is my first post which means I’m gonna need some constructive criticism. Don’t worry I’m the eldest granddaughter my feelings won’t be hurt. Also I wanted to start off chill so this is just some fluff of Chris taking care of you when you’re sick. I’m in love.

Warnings- tooth rotting fluff, reader is really sick (duh-doy) and no use of y/n.

Now without further ado-do (hah! I said doodoo), I present Christopher Owen Sturniolo.

—————————

This is just not my day. First of all I went to sleep with a major headache, so I barely got any sleep tonight. Secondly I woke up with a fever so bad that I couldn’t even get myself out of bed and lastly I can’t find the remote to my tv so I’ve just been laying here like a cinder block all day while sweating like a pig.

I stare at the ceiling hoping I’d eventually just fall asleep, only to be interrupted by the sound of my phone ringing to my right. I groan rolling over to my side to check the contact, my heart fluttering at the sight of my boyfriend’s name. I grab my phone hitting answer and put the phone on speaker because I don’t have the energy to hold the phone.

I initiate the conversation to let him know I’m here. “Hey, you.” I croak, my voice sounding like I’ve smoked 20 packs a day since birth.

“Hi, baby” he answers “am I waking you up? You sound tired.” He asks. “No, I’m just a bit sick. Think I caught the flu or something. But what’s up?” I try to act fine but my voice betrays me.

“Are you sure you’re fine? You don’t sound too good. Do you want me to come over and cuddle you?” He asks completely ignoring my question.

“Yeah, baby I’m fine. And you probably shouldn’t come over, I’ve got 104 degrees and I smell like a rats ass.” I say, not wanting him to see me like this. He’s seen me sick before since we’ve been dating a while but not like this.

“Well that’s too bad.” I’m completely lost until I hear the turning of the lock of my apartment door and the faint sound of footsteps coming my direction. My door opens to reveal a gleaming Chris, holding my favourite flowers in one hand and a bag full to the brim with all my favourite foods.

I sit up pouting at him “how did I get so lucky?” He smiles handing me the flowers, setting the bag down and pressing his hand against my forehead to check my temperature, then sliding it down to rest against my cheek.

“Aw, you poor thing. You’re burning up” he says genuinely. “I’m gonna go run you a bath and I’ll be right back” he says pressing a kiss to my temple and pulling away.

“Man I really do smell bad, don’t I?” I say sarcastically, grinning from ear to ear as he walks to the bathroom. I hear him chuckle and then water running.

He comes back to the room reaching his hand out for me to grab. I grip it and he pulls me to my feet and I wobble a bit, blood rushing to my head after laying in bed all day. I then feel an arm at the back of my knees and under my right arm and suddenly I’m in the air, Chris carrying me bridal style to the bathroom.

He puts me down to sit on the toilet seat. I let him help me undress, not caring as long as I get to get in the bath soon. My muscles aching for relief.

When I step into the bath I instantly relax, the water is the perfect temperature. Warm enough to ease some tension in my shoulders and back but not too warm so that I feel nauseous.

I feel like I’m at a spa, Chris went to my room and grabbed a face mask I’ve been meaning to use and applied it for me, even putting some on himself. And now he’s washing my hair for me.

I actually think I fall asleep for a second, the mixture of no sleep, a warm bath and a scalp massage getting the best of me.

When I’m done bathing he grabs me some pyjamas and helps me get dressed. We get back to bed, pulling out the snacks and turning on the tv after he found it under my pillow and watching 10 things I hate about you.

He’s so gentle with me, peppering my face with kisses, whispering how much he loves me and holding me so tight I think he might break one of my ribs.

I don’t remember falling asleep but when I wake up I’m wrapped up in his arms and I’m feeling so much better.

Chris however…

————————

A/n I love this so much, actually broke my heart to think about the fact that none of you will ever experience this because Chris and I are happily married with 3 kids😔💔 but on a serious note, please tell me if there’s anything you want me to do differently next time! I expect you guys to be absolutely brutal in the comments. Thank you guys for reading, I hope it lived up to your expectations! XOXO 💋

[twst-drabbles]

Deuce 4

Summary: You were boiling eggs because Crowley is over at your house, nursing a hang-over after downing a whole bottle of wine for a bet. You decide to make him boiled eggs. Deuce takes a bite out of one of them.

Yes, yes, Crowley didn't exactly ask for just eggs but his whining got you up too early in the damn morning and now the only thing he's getting is boiled eggs.

That and you know Crowley. If you make too much food, he's going to try and eat all of it just to not leave any leftovers behind, and get himself sick for the rest of the day because of that. You're not exactly the best at measuring what's too much or what's too little, you only know your own limits.

“Have you finished yeeet?” For someone with a throbbing headache, he certainly can be loud.

Deuce, ever the helper in what ways he could, squeaked for your attention, then patted his puffed up chest. ‘You can rely on me!’ He’s probably trying to convey, even though there’s really nothing you need his help for.

Well, moral support should count for something, right?

“Alright, alright, continue being you,” you patted Deuce on his head, “Just don’t fall off my shoulder, ‘kay?” Chances are he might fall in the ice bowl full of boiled eggs. He certainly won’t like that bath.

“…am I truly alone in this wooorld?” Whine Crowley once more, and the crack in his voice struck out the edge of annoyance and made you laugh.

“Shove it Crowley,” you yelled back, though there was no malice in you. Yes, he’s a hassle to deal with, but he’s such a flavor of silly that you can’t help but want to use that against him when he’s gets sober. There’s no shortage of embarrassing memories in your head and you have no trouble making it known.

You should probably take him home, if only so you don’t have to deal with midday snoring but eh, it’s fine. It’s more trouble than it's worth anyway. He'd fall asleep in bed, snort awake and then end up right back in your house again via whatever magic spell he can remember that day.

It always has to be your house. It couldn’t be any other persons. Yours. Oh well.

You shake your hands to rid them of egg shells. You looked to your shoulder. “Hey, Deuce?”

He propped himself up, at attention. You dragged an empty bowl next to the ice one.

“Put them this bowl, please.” Certainly, you could do it yourself, but your pets get whiny if they can’t help you with simple tasks. Puts a hole in Deuce’s confidence especially.

Deuce pumped himself up with a sharp, reedy whistle and slid right down your arm. The eggs you boiled were a really weird variety, way bigger than a chicken’s egg. About the size of your entire hand. You don’t remember which creature this came from, but it’s the kind of eggs Crowley likes and the ones he gets you so may as well use them.

Point being, Deuce had to use his entire body to hold the egg up. Each step he took towards the bowl, Deuce gave a grunt, and it was at such a rhythm that you’re pretty sure he’s subconsciously recalling Riddle’s training.

One two, one two. And finally, Deuce got the boiled egg in the bowl.

“Good job, little buddy.” You patted his head when he rushed right over, ready for the next egg. “Here you go.”

And so you both continued, you peeling the eggs and Deuce carrying them to the bowl. Until, eventually, Deuce didn’t come right over for the next egg.

“Deuce?” You raised an eyebrow, egg in hand ready to be delivered, “You doing alright?”

You looked over, seeing Deuce still carrying that boiled egg, hidden behind it in such a way that you could only see his little legs.

“Deuce?” Your voice sunk a little lower, warning, and you saw him flinch.

Then, Deuce peeked from around the egg. His cheeks, evidently filled to the brim with egg, wobbled as he continued to chew. He looked guilty, and yet he continued to eat. You continued to stare as he swallowed down that huge bite in one go. It hit his belly a stone would.

Deuce looked down, clearly waiting for something on your part, but you just shrugged.

“You know what, you can have that one. I made too many anyway.” No you didn’t, Crowley eats way too much honestly, but eh, it’s not as if he’ll starve if he has one less egg than usual.

Deuce’s eyes sparkled and he popped his head right back into the hole he made in the boiled egg.

…are you gonna have to purchase more of these eggs now? They’re kinda expensive.

[thebadboyfanclub]

She Is A Lady (Ivar x Targaryen Reader)

Ivar has always been such an interesting character to me so imagine how delighted I was when I got my first request for him. Also I would like to announce that I will not be accepting any more requests for daemon Targaryen as of right now cause i have written so many and I have also others that I must write. Enjoy!

Y/n) had always been an adventurous character, ever since she could walk she would wobble away from everyone, curiosity fuelling her little chubby legs, when she got a little older and was able to get on her dragon, Rhaenyras's heart raced as she waited patiently for her daughter to come home.

She was her father's daughter, stubborn, brave, and resilient, “the noble she-dragon” was her title when she would often be referred to in the songs of barbs, she would smirk under her cloak as she would often cover herself to visit the small taverns.

When war called for her (y/n) defended her mother with the fierceness of a dozen warriors, however, the pain of losing her brothers one by one, her dear Daemon who taught her so many things, her grandmother Rhaenys, she could not risk the death of her mother.

“We can still fight dear”

“Mother our troops have fought fiercely for so long, most of our men are dead, we need an alliance”

“What if they kill you?”

“Then I’ll let my brothers know how much you love them and we will be waiting for you, my queen”

Rhaenyra overcomes with emotion fell into her daughters' arms in desperation, her precious little girl was now grown up. (Y/n) hugged her mother back with the same amount of love, she hated the fact that she had to leave her mother's side, but this was their last resort.

Rhaenyra pulled away slightly, her fingers reaching for the few strands of Dark hair that were entangled between her Targaryen silver hair, a small token she had inherited from her late father.

“Promise me you will come back to me”

“I won’t come alone, I’ll come with an army to protect you”

-

(Y/n) had searched for inhabited land beyond the wall for a full day, the sun had been tucked away and replaced by the moon when she noticed a land lit by torches, it would unwise to make a haste landing without a warning first, for all she knew this land could be home for cannibals or demon worshippers.

(Y/n) commanded her dragon to fly a bit lower, circling the city to make her presence known, not only did the people notice her, as they had gathered around for supper to celebrate their victory, they rose from their seats to follow the beast that appeared to make landing a bit further down.

“I am unharmed, well… except the dragon”

“Who are you?”

“Princess (y/n) Targaryen, I come from kings landing”

The men came to a standstill with the princess, both parties waiting for a sudden move so they can “defend” their own, you could only hear the sound of the fire from their torches and their breaths created a mist from the cold.

“I understand this is sudden for you but I have come in peace, I have been traveling on dragon back since dawn, it would be certainly easier for me to explain after I get some type of food if you could be so kind to offer one”

The dim light was not enough to reveal the contraption Ivar was using to stand up on his legs, his eyes piercing through hers in such intensity that (y/n) felt like the man was trying to look into her brain, still she did not waver, she challenged him with her strong look she beheld on those intriguing hues, her flame could be identified from a mile away, this was not a meek princess, she came flying in a beast and stood by it proudly, she was a true warrior sent from the Gods.

“Fine, princess. Leave your sword and dragon here and then you can follow us”

Of course, he knew she was lying, he saw the sword that rested on her hip the minute she got on the ground, intrigued by the astonishing beast she came with he decided to offer her sanctuary.

To his surprise, the princess took out her sword before she came on one knee with it laying flat on her palms.

“This has been given to me by a beloved family member, I do not wish to leave it unattended but I trust you with it, Ser”

“Ivar, Ivar the boneless”

Her face showed exactly how puzzled she was by the nickname the name claimed that he was holding, howbeit she did not have time to question it for long since from the first step Ivar took (y/n) picked up on the metal sound and observed just how stiff his walking as she realized that the man was probably barely able to stand up, his entire weight was supported by a delicates design of metal that went all the way up to his thigh.

Ivar smirked at the sight of the woman offering her sword, she seemed smart enough according to her calculated moves, the sword felt light in his hand as it shined under the moonlight, arrogantly he pointed the tip of the sword directly under her chin, his ego allowing him to consider that he had the upper hand.

(Y/n) gently placed the weapon away from her face and rose to her feet, she had been nothing but gracious she would not allow herself to be disrespected.

“Lead the way, my lord”

She simply suggested, she concealed her facial expression well though the devil was always in the details, Ivar could see her hands forming into fists.

“Welcome to Kattegat princess”

He turned his back on her while she took small steps to stay behind him, she did not want to offend him by walking faster so her pace was slow enough to let him walk.

(Y/n)s eyes traveled around everything, people’s faces, their clothing, their tables, their homes, it seemed like everyone was living a simple life, it reminded her of the roads of kings landing.

Ivar could hear the whispers from his subjects, they were all taken back by Ivars sudden kindness, and they all expected him to kill her on the spot, he had to admit that the idea did go through his head, yet something in him told him to let her join their feast, maybe it was the fearsome dragon, maybe her alluring appearance.

Alas, (y/n) took a seat next to him, and quite swiftly the servants gave her a plate full of food and a goblet with ale, the chicken was warm and the ale did the trick of warming her up as everyone danced around the fire, a faint smile played on her lips while Ivar observed her.

“So what brings you here princess?”

“War I am afraid”

“War?”

“In my homeland, we have one king that rules over the land, my family has been been in that position for over a century, yet it is the very first time that a woman-my mother- is to assume authority, that did not go well with her half brother”

“So you ran?”

“I certainly have not, my brothers were killed, my stepfather, my grandmother… all gone”

Ivar felt sadness rush through his chest at how the princess's chin quivered, her hushed tone trembling as she uttered the last two words, her doe eyes misting in the firelight, Ivar was not known for his empathy, still, he reached for her hand under the table to give it a slight squeeze.

“My mother was killed by my father's first wife, she released an arrow while my mother was walking away”

“How did you respond?”

“Oh I’ve tried to kill her several times”

“It is quite macabre, how the family is always the one that causes the biggest pain”

“I suppose, if you are not running then what brought you here?”

“Desperation, countless battles have taken most of our men, I was hoping to look for allies”

“You described it perfectly, desperation is the only thing that could make someone believe that another army of men would come to die for you”

“My mother is all I have left, wouldn’t you do anything to bring your own back to life?”

“Definitely”

“It might sound cruel but forgive me for saying I do not crave to understand your pain”

She was honest Ivar gave (y/n) that much, they sat there gawking at one another, she stood tall, she did not waver under his eyes as most people did, she showed no signs of fear, she did not care about anything, and let’s not even start of how ambitious she appeared to be.

Ivar took a swig of his ale without looking away from those distinguish violet hues, he recalled how the prophets have whispered to him of a queen of a faraway land.

“Your queen will help you fly amongst the clouds, you’ll know lands beyond the eye”

He had brushed it off as a riddle, but now he started to understand that it was the only time the prophet meant every word, could she- princess (y/n) Targaryen- be his queen?

There, for only the briefest moment and for the first time he felt the warm sensation of his heart thumping at the mere sight of her smile, like Freya had come from the clouds to place her cloak around the two youngsters. For so long Ivar had brushed off the idea of love or marriage, sometimes he would even the joke that the goddess herself has cursed him or turned his back on him, cruelly denying him the blessing of a true loves match.

“I cannot throw my men to a war over lands I know nothing about”

“I figure that we will ride tomorrow”

“Ride?”

“We can strap you up on Daylight and you will be safe as a passenger”

“You mean I go up in that?”

“Hey, she is a lady”

Ivar cackled at her correction regarding her dragon. It had been a while since one was so casual with him, that treated him with kindness without fearing his outbursts, sure her ignorance of not exactly knowing his antics had something to do with it, albeit Ivar thoroughly enjoyed her presence, her wit and pride complimented her.

As (y/n) bit her bottom lip her gaze went over to his legs, she wanted to ask as silence overtook them, but she debated if it was the right decision.

“It’s not an injury, I was never able to walk”

“Brittle bones, the masters in my land had informed me of such condition. Back in the day, they used to kill babes that seemed to hold such an illness”

“Oh that is what happens here as well, my mother forbade it”

“She sounds like a lovely woman”

“She was”

(Y/n) could deeply empathize with the look that took over Ivars handsome face, how his expression clouded for just a moment, how his jaw tensed and his lips stiffened to a thin line, she could tell that Ivar was not looking at anyone particularly, he was reminiscing as moments that they shared passed through his ice blue hues.

Ivar was pulled back to reality by her gentle hand resting on his thing, usually, he would shove away anyone that dared to touch his legs, but surprisingly he just allowed his hand to find hers and rest on top of it, a part of him yearning for the warmth of her touch, her genuine interest and zest.

“I am certain she is very proud of you, I understand you two probably shared a very close bond”

“We did, but let’s not dwell on such events, you must rest I do not want the rider of such a large beast to fall asleep while they hold my life in the reigns of a dragon”

They smiled at one another, a grin that behind it was resting countless words left unsaid. Ivar was a stranger to the goodwill of people, although with her, as his eyes rested upon her features he felt like his anger vanished, like a wave that held her name washed through his experience with cruelty and even his brothers belittling him was now gone.

“This feels strange”

“I agree princess, but I do not want it to go away”

“Me neither”

She whispered, her eyes lowering down to the ground to avoid the foreign sensation that was Ivars presence. Ivar allowed her to retreat, as he looked around it dawned on him that a few of the others had also taken it to become viewers of their encounter, he could not blame them.

With some difficulty he rose from his seat with the goblet of Ale in his hand, demanding the attention of everyone to realign with their leader.

“It is with great honor that I present to you the princess (y/n) Targaryen, the future queen of her land, she has come to us with a request for an alliance, to fight alongside her army for a land we do not know. Tomorrow I will ride with the princess to see for myself that foreign land, as well as to marry her”

“What?”

“To unite our kingdoms, to rule by her side in her homeland and for her to rule by my side in mine, to give us a reason to help her. Raise your glass, to your future queen”

Requests are open!

[atinylittlepain]

Love the Unexpected Universe. Dad!Joel is life, could I please request a sweet fluff piece of just Joel on a day out with baby Miller? Just exploring, carrying baby on his shoulders and being an absolute girl dad. I just need this man to have a day filled with peace and love!

first of all, i am so sorry for my tardy response to your request, sweet anon, i hope some fluffy dad!joel can make up for it <3

Unexpected Circumstances

dad!joel x f!reader

joel miller masterlist

warnings | 18+ mostly for some angst, but overall this is very sweet

a/n | obviously, this takes place in my Expectings universe :)

..........................

“You sure you’ll be ok? I can ask someone to cover my shift.”

“We’re gonna be fine, mama. I’ve got her.”

“Alright, um, well, I’ll be home before dinner, and Ellie can help out after school–” He ducks down to silence her with a smacking kiss, leaving her with an easy smile as he hoists Libby on his hip.

“I’ve got it, ok? All you need to worry about is coming home safe to us.” Though she still looks hesitant, she nods, leaning in to press a kiss to Libby’s cheek before quietly murmuring to her.

“Hi, baby, mama’s gotta go for a little while, but I’ll be back so, so soon. And daddy’s gonna be here with you all day, does that sound good?” Their girl’s brow crumples at that, somewhere between confusion and despair. She is only two after all, but she’s whip-smart enough to understand that her mama is leaving for the day.

“You gotta be good for daddy, Libby, alright? I love you so much, baby. Gonna be back so soon you won’t even know I was gone.” Fat chance of that. Joel holds that comment back, rocking their girl lightly as the first cries start to break in her tiny lungs.

“Darlin, you ain’t ever gonna get out the door at this rate. Go, and just, be safe, please.” She looks completely torn, eyes glancing between him and Libby’s pinched face, though she does finally go, stealing a quick kiss from him and laying one on the top of their girl’s head before she slips out the front door. And the instant the door clicks shut, Libby lets out a dizzying scream of what sounds like the word mama, her tiny fists beating against Joel’s chest. If he didn’t have hearing loss before, he certainly will now.

It’s not that he hasn’t had sole Libby duty before, it’s just that it’s a bit rare. They had worked out a decent childcare rotation, and now that Libby’s two, they’ve also started taking her to the community daycare. But a perfect storm of unexpected circumstances has left Joel as the only person able to look after her today. While his woman has a patrol shift, daycare has been shut down until further notice due to a stomach bug traveling around in little bodies, and Tommy and Maria are both busy with town council work. And Joel, well, he happens to have the day off.

He’s got this. Hell, he did it everyday with Sarah. But she had been a daddy’s girl, through and through. And judging by the way Libby’s wailing in his ear right now, this girl is at least a little more partial to her mama. 

“Easy, easy, baby girl. You and me are gonna have a good day, huh? Don’t cry, baby, please? How about we go see the horses? You love the horses.” At that, she calms herself down just enough to let out a shuddering “h-h-horses?” Joel can’t help but smile as she looks up at him, watery eyes and a wobbly lip, her hand fisted in the collar of his flannel.

“Yeah, baby, let’s get some food in you and then we’ll go see them.” 

With most of a bowl of oatmeal in her stomach (and some drying on his shirt) he manages to get his girl out the door, her hand engulfed in his much larger one as he lets her lead the way. He’s going to have a crook in his neck with the way he has to hunch over to let her walk alongside him with her hand in his, but she had been rather insistent on doing it herself, and if there’s one thing he’s certain of, it’s that she’s just as stubborn as her mama. 

She’s all smiles now, pointing at things they pass, naming what she can, always looking up to him for confirmation that he’s happy to give with a nod and a grin. Something like pride swells big and warm in his chest when they pass other people, his girl giving them waves and greetings that they reciprocate in kind, offering a smile to Joel as well. To be a part of this pure goodness is a privilege he didn’t think he’d ever get again, and he finds himself smiling back at folks, an easy “g’morning” offered to their own greetings. 

The spring colts are out in the pen when they get to the stables, and Libby’s eyes go wide, tugging on his arm to hurry them along toward the fence. He hoists her up onto his hip so she can get a better look over the pen, a shriek of a giggle leaving her when one of the horses throws its head back in a whinny. 

“You wanna get a little closer, baby girl?” He swears the look she gives him should be coming from a teenager, the pinch of her brow a total uh, yes, duh expression that he has to chuckle at. 

Before he takes her into the pen, he grabs a pail of feed, setting Libby down and guiding her over to the gate with a hand on her back. There’s three horses in the pen, and none of them pay them much mind as they step inside, too busy soaking up the morning sun and stretching their legs in a lazy waltz. But when one of the colts takes notice of them, and the pail Joel is holding in one hand, it starts to nose closer to where they’re standing. And the closer it gets, the tighter Libby’s grip on his hand becomes until she shuffles behind his legs with a disconcerted whimper, pressing her face into his jeans and wrapping her arms around his thigh. 

“There’s nothing to be scared of, baby. They’re just hungry, that's all. Here, watch.” He gently untangles her from his pant leg, kneeling down next to her with a reassuring palm on her back as he takes a handful of grain from the pail and holds it out to the young horse. The colt takes another step forward, hoovering the grain up from Joel’s palm in no time flat. 

“Oh, daddy, I try?” He grins at her eager question and wide eyes, letting her step in front him to grab a handful of grain.

“That’s it, baby girl. Now hold your hand out flat like this.” He guides her hand out with his own, keeping his other hand on her shoulder. Though she takes a nervous step back into him when the horse comes closer, he holds her steady, murmuring that it’s alright, that he won’t let anything bad happen to her. And the giggle she lets out when the horse does snuffle at her palm might be the best sound he’s ever heard. 

He catches flickers of Sarah in her, in laughs, or particularly sassy looks, and it’s the sweetest pain he’s ever felt, love that grows not in spite of, but because of the memories. His girls, all three of them, and the way they run laps around his heart.

…

She’s not sure what she was expecting to find when she returned home that evening, but this certainly wasn’t it. Coming through the backdoor and into the kitchen, she sees veggies and other ingredients prepped and ready on the counter for dinner, an admitted relief and surprise knowing that it was Joel “chef boyardee doesn’t expire” Miller who most likely did it. But it’s when she steps into the living room that any weariness is replaced by a thrumming warmth in her chest at the sight she finds. Joel is out cold on the couch, head resting on one armrest and ankles propped up on the other, a light snore coming from his parted lips. And laying on his chest, his arms wrapped firm around her, is Libby, as equally conked out as her dad, cheek smushed against his shoulder.

As quietly as she can, she pads over to the couch, kneeling down and bringing a light palm to brush Libby’s hair out of her face, her girl stirring a bit before her eyes squint open. 

“Mama?” It’s so quiet, so small that she’d like to tuck the sound of that word somewhere between her ribs, something sweet to hold onto forever.

“Hi, baby, told you I’d be back in no time. Did you have a good day with daddy?” Not answering, Libby simply starts to squirm in Joel’s hold, though he still doesn’t stir. But when she presses her little palms into his chest to push herself up, kneeing him in the stomach along the way, Joel wakes with a start and a hard oof, his head whipping around to figure out what the hell is going on. With Libby already scrambling into her lap, she offers him a smile, bringing her hand to rub circles over his chest where she knows his heart is probably racing right now.

“Hey, darlin, you’re back.” The tired rasp of his voice has her smile broadening into a grin, one hand rubbing up and down Libby’s back where she’s clung to her torso, and the other seeking out Joel’s hand, tangling their fingers together with a squeeze.

“Looks like you two wore yourselves out today.” 

“I seed horses, mama.” Libby’s face peeks out from where she had been hiding in her neck, eyes wide and cheeks rounded by her grin.

“You saw the horses? That’s awesome, Libs.” 

“She fed them too. This one was extra brave, weren’t you, baby?” Joel sits up with a groan, swinging his legs off the couch and leaning his elbows on his thighs as he speaks. To her surprise, and just a touch to her chagrin, Libby starts squirreling in her lap, craning around and reaching out for Joel who’s more than happy to take her up into his arms, sitting her down on his thigh. 

“Brave, daddy.” Joel grins at their girl, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek that sets her giggling. She can’t help musing to herself that Libby might have found a new favorite. 

“Did Ellie help out?”

“Nah, I told her she could go hang out with Dina. We had it under control, right, my girl?” Libby nods her head rather seriously at Joel’s words, making them both chuckle at her quick agreement. 

“Hmm, looks like it. How about I get started on dinner then since you guys already got it all set up?” With that, Libby climbs up Joel to stand on his thigh, another oof drawing out of him as she jumps down off his leg and into her lap, just a tad too big for it to not knock the wind out of her as she wraps her arms around her neck.

“I help-ded, mama.” She glances over the top of Libby’s head at Joel, who just smiles and nods.

“Libs supervised, I chopped.” Libby nods, her hand reaching out to rest on Joel’s knee.

“Super eyes, daddy?” 

“Something like that, baby. Why don’t you go get cleaned up with your mama? I’ll get dinner started.”

…

“I have to admit, I’m impressed.” 

“Well don’t sound so surprised, darlin.” She grins at him around her toothbrush, eyes meeting his in the bathroom mirror. While he had handled Libby well on his own, they certainly make a better team of taking care of their girl, dinner free of tears or tantrums, easily passing her between each other in the midst of stirred pots and chopped vegetables, Ellie coming home somewhere in the middle of it and taking Libby out in the backyard to play before they ate. It’s not that they’ve made a point of it, sitting down together every night for a meal, but they certainly try to, and it happens to be his favorite part of the day. They’re all safe, they’re all fed, and they’re all home, a relief and a reassurance that he knows matters as much to her as it does to him. 

“So I did good, huh?” He can’t help himself, his grin going crooked as he leans against the bathroom counter to look at her. 

“She still has all her limbs, no blunt force head trauma, and she passed out the minute I put her down for the night. Yeah, I’d say you did good.” She swallows his laugh with a kiss, stepping closer and resting her palms on his chest. 

“Thank you, Joel. You know it’s not that I’m worried about you. I just– well, I just–” 

“Worry about her. I know, I do too. But our girl is pretty fucking amazing, don’t you think?” 

“She is, she really is. But don’t go turning her into a daddy’s girl now. Horses, Joel, really? That’s just playing to the crowd.” Her easy smile tells him that she’s only a little serious about what she says, head tilted at him. 

“Oh please, you would’ve done the same if you had her wailing in your ear. Wouldn’t stop crying when you left, darlin.” 

“Is it bad that hearing that makes me feel a little better?” Instead of answering her question, he steals another kiss from her, his hands cupping her face, feeling the arc of her cheeks as she grins into it.

“If our girl is gonna have a favorite, I don’t mind it being you.”

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰

I need this one completed so I can read it in full. I'm holding off on part 1 until you finish. GAH

I am hustling I swear!

129 for ➰:

Tagging @steadfastsaturnsrings

---

Today, Buck’s clumsiness doesn’t get him killed. At least not yet. 

Today, it stops time. Albeit, just briefly.

He’s getting dressed for kayaking. Eddie is in the washroom. He’s reaching down to put on his sandals, balancing on one foot. He’s usually a bit more deft with this, but he’s distracted. Not totally present. He wobbles a bit, bumps into the wall. He feels the old analog clock shift a little, nearly falling off its mount.

Buck turns to steady it, sandal abandoned. He looks up at the clock, which is perhaps half a foot above his head, only to see that this disruption has left it frozen. Arms standing still. No longer ticking away. 

“Fuck,” Buck mumbles. He feels temporarily guilty for breaking something. Then he remembers the damn thing wasn’t telling time correctly anyway. Not like it’s doing any better now. 

He taps the face of the clock once. Twice. Maybe thirty seconds pass in total from the time he bumped it to when it suddenly lurches back to life. Arms jumping back into motion like a pulse hopping back after resuscitation. 

“Huh,” Buck mutters. 

It doesn’t seem very significant, after all. So he resumes putting on his sandals, and doesn’t give it another thought. 

➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰

Half an hour later, they’re sitting on the big patio eating a complimentary hotel breakfast. Chris looks mildly zombified, as per usual. Eddie is dumping extra sugar into his coffee. 

Buck picks at his waffles mildly, staring out at the gorgeous view of the Pacific Ocean. He kind of misses the city. As stupid as that sounds. The loud, crowded, often smelly city. He misses it. His work. His job. 

He needs to get them out of this loop. He needs to get them home. 

➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰

Everything goes by the script. 

Kayaking. Getting thwacked on the head. Icing his head. Bitching about his head. 

They choose the beach. Buck lays on a blanket in the sun. Eddie rubs sunscreen into his back. 

They make it back to the hotel on time. They make it to the restaurant on time. Buck starts to feel the way he usually feels. Lethargic. Numb. Medicated. A little out of his senses and his body. 

“You okay, Buck?” Chris asks as they sit down. “You look sort of spacy.”

“I’ll be okay, Chris,” he lies. “Thanks for asking though.”

“Food will help,” Eddie says, reading his lines just perfectly. 

“Good idea,” Buck mumbles. 

He just orders water tonight. No point asking for something he won’t be able to taste. 

By the time their food gets to them, it’s practically eight. His hands feel a bit wobbly as he cuts into his sea bass. The medicinal-like numbness that he has been feeling has transformed to a pins and needles sort of feeling across his extremities. 

Buck’s hand is shaking a tiny bit when he shoves the forkful of fish into his mouth. This production of a regular meal when he knows they’re about to die is so fucking exhausting. He hates it so much. He resigns himself to the whole fucking charade. He presses the bland, tasteless fish to his tongue. He inhales and smells nothing. The room feels like it’s spinning around him. 

Eddie is watching him. He always watches. Why is he looking at Buck? It’s the first time Buck has wondered this. If they’re all about to die, why isn’t he watching his son? Buck would… Buck would be watching Christopher. 

He opens his mouth to ask. His jaw and lips feel very heavy. 

“Eddie… Why?” He asks. He can barely manage the words.

Eddie frowns. “What do you mean why?”

“You… Just me…”

Eddie’s eyes widen in horror.

Buck slumps forward. His cheek presses hard into the tablecloth. He can’t remember ever doing that before. It all just sort of ended. 

Eddie starts talking, but Buck can only see his lips move. He can’t hear him. He can see Christopher’s face turn red. Tears fill his eyes.

What’s happening? Why is Buck still conscious? Why isn’t it ending? 

Buck’s not sure how long passes. Time isn’t exactly normal for him. It’s thick and painful and wrong. Eventually, he sees black bleeding into the corners of his vision. 

It ends. 

October 6th, 8am

Buck wakes up at eight in the morning, right on the dot. The digital clock on the nightstand is staring him in the face when he opens his eyes. Bold, square red letters. 8:00. 

Last go-around, Buck died. At the restaurant. Thirty seconds or so later than usual, he thinks. And those seconds, despite his addled, dying state, had told him a lot. 

There’s a lot to process. 

So Buck lies rigidly still and tries to think. 

The problem is, Buck thinks he knows the answer. He thinks he knows what’s wrong. He thinks he understands the truth. But if he does, it means Eddie lied. After Buck begged him to be honest. And if he did, then getting out of here is both simpler and insurmountably more complicated than Buck thought. He doesn’t want to be right. He wants to be misjudging things terribly. But he can’t escape all the little pieces of evidence stacking up. All their conversations. 

Taking care of you, even in small, silly ways, is a privilege. I’m lucky. I want to do it.

Yeah. Buck knows. Of course he knows. He’s just not sure why he didn’t really get it, sooner. Why he didn’t think Eddie was capable of this. He knows the man he loves. Knows how good he is at taking a detour around an issue and driving forward with persistence anyway. 

“Buck?” 

Eddie has woken up. 

He has woken up and noticed that Buck didn’t wake up. He has woken up and probably remembered what happened. Remembered the extra seconds. He must be putting the opposite ends of the pieces together as Buck is. Realizing what Buck is realizing. 

“It’s just me, isn’t it,” Buck whispers.

[all-about-kyu]

Summary: You’re beyond excited to have your second baby… until… Pairing: San x fem!reader Trope: married life au, parent au, non-idol au Genre: angst, fluff Rating: PG Warnings: stillbirth, high-risk pregnancy (placental rupture), hurt… a lot of hurt, hospitals, implications of surgery, mentions of childbirth Word Count: 3,034 Note: for the Meet Me Under the Cherry Tree event by @cultofdionysusnet​  Note 2: THE ENDING IS HAPPY I WON’T TORTURE YALL LIKE THAT!!! ( @songmingisthighs​ made me do it)

Listen to: married life from Up || Next Right Thing from Frozen 2

When you first moved to this property with your husband, you knew it would be where you wanted to be for the rest of your life. There’s a rather sizable backyard. A large weeping cherry tree sits atop a small hill off to the right corner of the yard. The dilapidated wooden fence adds to the homey feel of the whole place.

You sat under that blossoming cherry tree when you told San you were pregnant for the first time. He was so excited he tackled you to the ground and nearly sent you rolling down the hill. He, of course, checked that you were okay and he didn’t hurt you. Your pregnancy with Hyunwoo was so smooth. Not a single thing went off course with your health or his. Through summer and fall, until the weather turned cold and the bite of winter came, you sat under that same tree, fantasized, and imagined your future there with your husband.

December rolled around, and you were still happy despite the exhaustion your later pregnancy months caused. Then, finally, the day came, and you and San both were panicked, unsure of how ready you were to be parents. But, of course, the moment you laid eyes on your son, nothing else mattered. You know what your parents mean when they say you grew up too fast. Watching Hyunwoo grow right in front of your eyes made you so proud of him, yet you also worried about him simultaneously.

“Pic- pick-un-ic, momma?”

You chuckle, “It’s picnic, baby, but I’m ready! Why don’t you go get Daddy.”

You pack the basket and grab the blanket to be taken outside. You hear your one-year-old stomping through the home, followed by squealing giggles and your husband’s teasing voice. Placing a hand on your belly, you smile. San came down the hall with a giggling Hyunwoo tossed over his shoulder. He places a soft kiss against your cheek before opening the back door. You step outside and make your way right to that same blossoming tree. Hyunwoo doesn’t stay in San’s arms for very long. Finally, the toddler is off, running up the hill before collapsing on his back.

You follow shortly after and lean down, tickling the boy before picking him up and brushing the fallen petals off his clothes. San has always been the one to set things up since you typically prepped the food. You’re still baffled you managed to get Hyunwoo to eat a whole plate before he’s off and to roll down the hill for fun. You reach into the basket, intending to grab a napkin, though you know your husband. You know he’ll ask for one as well.

“Could I have one too? I have cherry juice all over my fingers.” he chuckles.

You hand him the napkin. San’s eyebrows furrow together, feeling something hard wrapped inside the paper. Your heart is pounding out of your chest. Then, in hopes of calming yourself, you start to watch Hyunwoo. He’s giggling and standing up. He wobbles a few times from dizziness but eventually walks back up the hill. As he does so, a breeze comes through, and the weeping branches swing gently around him. The tree had just started growing its blossoms, with slight hints of pink and white hardly peeking off the dark wood. You wish you could print memories when moments like this happen. Your little boy looks like an angel with the petals falling on him. His smile is so bright, and you can’t imagine a more beautiful sight.

“Sweetheart.” you hear San call, “Is this real? Are you really-”

“I am,” you smile, “Hyunwoo’s going to be a big brother.”

Everything feels normal and happy, just like it did with Hyunwoo. Your son is over the moon excited to meet his sister. It’s not until one of your routine checks that your doctor notices something off. There’s nothing critically concerning, but they still ask you to visit bi-weekly rather than monthly, just in case. The thought that your baby isn’t perfectly healthy worries you.

That night after Hyunwoo is peacefully sleeping, you let San know. You tell him it’s nothing especially concerning but that you want him to keep an extra pair of eyes out for anything that seems off externally from his perspective. As always, he’s extremely understanding and ready to do anything to help you.

A few weeks later, Yunho came over with his wife and son, Jinsik. The two toddlers have been close since they could comprehend human interaction. Of course, your son requested your weekly picnic to be moved to today, and you had no issue with that. Both boys barrel out the door, ready to make petal angels out of the fallen pink blossoms. You’re the last to exit the door, and you pull it shut behind you. San is walking ahead with Yunho chatting about who knows what. Yunho’s wife follows just ahead of you with the large picnic blanket.

Something feels a little off, though. You pause for a moment. San seems to sense it; he turns around and calls your name. You don’t even get a chance to make eye contact with him. You wince, dropping the basket. You double over in pain and fall to the ground shortly after the basket, holding your swollen belly right where the pain emanates. It’s a flurry around you. You know that Yunho has Hyunwoo and that your son is safe. San speeds his way to the hospital, holding your hand the whole way. You can’t remember much past when San tells you that everything will be okay.

When you wake up, you’re in a hospital bed, and your belly is far less swollen than it was a short while ago. You try to move but whimper in pain. San startles awake and squeezes your hand; he’s been crying. His eyes are brimmed with red and look glassy. Something isn’t right. You don’t say anything. Neither does San. He just holds your hand tightly and sniffles. The silence consumes you.

“H-Hyunwoo is spending the night with Yun.” his voice comes out cracking and meek.

“Where’s our daughter?” you ask, dreading the answer.

“She-” he takes a deep breath, “She was beautiful.”

“Was? San, what’s happening? Please tell me.”

“She didn’t make it. The doctor said the placenta detached from you, and she lost too much oxygen and blood before they could get you into the surgery, let alone get her out of you.”

You don’t know how to react. You go limp in his hold. You hear him sniffle back tears again. Tears start rolling down your cheeks, and you can only focus on the fact that you can’t do anything to save your baby. You wouldn’t have been able to save her if you could. You were only at the 20 weeks. Just hit the 4-month mark. She wouldn’t be able to survive without the weight and strength the rest of the pregnancy would provide.

“They asked me to name her so they could- so they-” he lets out another shaky breath, “so they could fill out the death certificate.”

“What did you tell them?” you deadpan.

“Hyunjoo, just like we agreed on.”

You just nod

The following months are brutal. You try your best to be the mom that Hyunwoo deserves. It’s so tough, though. Dealing with post-partum and grieving your daughter’s loss before you could even meet her makes everything seem impossible. More often than not, you find yourself sitting under the cherry tree silently by yourself. Yet, San has been so supportive throughout the entire situation. You know he’s grieving, too, but he never uses that to make you feel any less or frame things differently. Instead, he lets you feel what you feel. Let’s you cry endlessly on him. All while dealing with the grief in his way.

You don’t feel that you get your life back until Hyunwoo’s second birthday. He’s made leaps and bounds in his growth since the spring. He’s speaking complete sentences and starting to recognize different letters, shapes, and colors without assistance from you or San. The day starts a little shaky. You were on the verge of a breakdown when you held Yujun while Yeosang.

San was hyperaware of how you were feeling throughout the day. Several of your mutual friends had babies this year. Mingi had his second, Seeun, in August. You didn’t attend the baby shower or the get-together after his birth. They respected your choice, knowing it was all still challenging for you. Then, in October, Wooyoung had Hunter, and Yeosang had Yujun on the same day. The thought made you chuckle, but still, you were hurting a bit. You hardly made it through the visit to meet the two babies that day. They’ve all been extremely understanding and patient with your grieving process. They’ve mentioned that they could never imagine being in your position and that you could take as much time as you needed.

“Do you want me to take him?”

You shake your head, “I kinda miss this phase. I’ll hold him a bit longer.”

“Mind if I join you then?”

“Not at all.” you smile.

From then, you felt your life slowly rebuilding itself around you. Hyunwoo was even happier and bouncier than before. You and San fall back into a rhythm with each other and with your own personal endeavors. You hardly process the thought that you may get pregnant again. It crosses your mind once in a blue moon, and when it does, it fills your stomach with anxiety. You didn’t mention this worry to San, not explicitly, at least. Hyunwoo would ask on occasion where Hyunjoo went, and it breaks your heart a little, but he’s too young to understand otherwise. Winter turns to Spring, and slowly Summer starts to invade. That’s when reality had a different plan for you than you wanted.

“Hey, could you watch Hyunwoo for a bit?”

“What’s wrong? Is everything okay?” Seonghwa asks over the phone with a very concerned tone.

“Yeah, yeah, I just want to talk with San without Hyunwoo around. I know he hears more than we want him to sometimes.” you chuckle airily.

“I’ll be over with Junmin in about fifteen. Is that okay?”

“Perfect.” you reassure.

Just as promised, Seonghwa and Junmin are there in fifteen minutes. Hyunwoo couldn’t care less that he was leaving. He was getting to go to his friend’s house and play. After a few quick goodbyes, the boys are contently buckled into their car seats.

“I know something’s up with you.” Seonghwa states after the car door is securely shut, “You don’t have to tell me. I know you’re about to tell San whatever it is. But you have us to lean on, too, okay?”

You nod, “Okay, thank you again, Seonghwa.”

When you walk back inside, San’s already waiting by the backdoor. Sometimes it’s crazy how well your husband knows you when you want to tell him something important or have a heart-to-heart with him. You sit under that cherry tree. That tree has heard many things of your lives together, the good, the bad, and the ugly. Now it’s about to hear one new thing. You interlock your hand with his and go up that small hill again. You know he’s worried about you. You are worried. A million and one things are swirling around your mind right now. Now, you’re seated with your back against the tree, tucked under San’s arm.

“So,” he sighs, “what life-changing thing are you going to tell me this time?” he teases.

“I’m pregnant again.”

“When did you find out?”

“Last week,” you admit, “I had to come to terms with it on my own first. How do you feel about it?”

He shakes his head, “This isn’t about me. You’re the one carrying the baby. How are you feeling about it?” he asks softly, wrapping his arm around you tighter.

“Scared, in all honesty. What if-” you stop yourself.

“Are you worried this baby will have the same complications as Hyunjoo?” you nod, and he wraps you fully in a hug, “Listen to me, sweetheart. You are strong, so fucking strong. We had to part ways with our daughter far too early, but that doesn’t mean this baby is guaranteed to be that way too. Honestly, I’m a bit worried too. I think it’s only natural after what happened. But I’m right by your side every step of the way. I know life was hell for us last year, but guess what? There’s always sun after the storm.”

“I love you.” you sniffle. You hadn’t even noticed you were crying.

“I love you too.”

You spend the rest of the afternoon sitting under the tree, talking about everything with him, just like when you told him about Hyunwoo and when you told him about Hyunjoo. That lingering fear sits in your belly still, but it slowly dissolves into hope for what could be.

Of course, after your last pregnancy, your doctor has you come in for bi-weekly visits from the beginning. Luckily, this baby is completely healthy. This baby is following the trends that Hyunwoo had rather than your daughter. She’s also a girl. You can’t tell if it’s a twisted joke or a blessing from some higher power. One night, you express your worries to San, lying in bed this time. Hyunwoo is fast asleep in his bed, and the baby in your belly is sleeping too. You tell him the lingering thoughts that this daughter may also pass away before birth simply based on your previous experience.

You half expect San to call you crazy. He doesn’t, though. Instead, he leans on his forearm and presses a kiss to your forehead, then leans down and presses a kiss to your baby bump. He tells you that he understands your worry and that you shouldn’t let those negative thoughts consume you even though you are scared. You know he’s right.

You roll through months of your pregnancy, and she’s still healthy, and you are too. Again, Hyunwoo is about to explode with excitement to meet his baby sister. He sat with you as you thought up name options for her. Hyunwoo insisted that she should be named Pumpkin, and neither you nor San had the heart to tell him no. He’s fully convinced she’ll be named Pumpkin now.

By the time Hyunwoo’s third birthday comes around, you’re in your third trimester and entirely over being pregnant again. As much as you’re happy that she’s healthy, she also wiggles like a menace more often than not. She’s recently made a habit of rubbing her foot into your ribs to try to get comfortable. San’s teased you many times for hitting your belly lightly to get her to stop, to no avail. Hyunwoo is somewhat up set his sister didn’t come early as a birthday present for him. If that were the case, though, they would’ve hated having the same birthday when they got older.

In January, Jongho announces that his girlfriend is pregnant. Finally, after years of being the designated babysitter, he could stop doing that and have one of his own. Many of your friends insist he’s pranking them, unwilling to believe their youngest friend was also about to be a dad. It was very real, though. His girlfriend had that glow that all the others had, and you’re sure you have it now too.

It’s the middle of a February snowstorm when you go into labor. Your daughter’s timing is impeccable. Luckily, Jongho wasn’t entirely ripped to shreds by his raging pregnant girlfriend (she was livid that he ate her crackers) and happily took Hyunwoo while San carefully but quickly navigated his way to the hospital. Your heart is pounding, and you’re terrified. Not to have her, but that she would be unhealthy somehow. You’ve been reassured by your husband and, more importantly, your doctor on countless occasions that she’s healthy. Still, the fear is at the forefront of your mind.

You make it there despite the storm and the fear lingering in your mind, and the delivery goes smoothly. Her delivery was actually shorter than Hyunwoo’s by a long shot too. After being cleaned up and you’re given the birth aftercare, your daughter is happily resting on your chest, sleeping after nursing for the first time. They keep you overnight for recovery and observation, just in case. You’re discharged the following day. Your daughter is safely in her carrier. You choose to sit in the back seat with her, keeping a watchful eye on your newborn.

“When will momma and daddy be home?” you hear Hyunwoo on the other side of the door.

“They’ll be home soon, bud. Just wait for a little-” you hear Jongho start to reason with him.

San swings the door open, “We’re right here, baby.” you say sweetly.

Hyunwoo comes barreling toward him and latches onto his leg. The three-year-old immediately peers into the carrier and sees his sister sleeping peacefully. You watch how his eyes light up with stars looking at her.

“That’s Pumpkin?” he asks dreamily.

“Do you want to meet your sister officially?” San asks.

He nods and runs back to sit on the couch. Jongho is seated beside him with a soft smile growing on his lips. You bring the carrier over and carefully take her out of the seat. You sit beside your toddler and let him see her properly. Hyunwoo slides closer and reaches out his finger to touch her tiny hands. San is watching the interaction; you’ve never seen him so in love with anything before.

“What did you name her?” Jongho asks.

“Soohyun.” you reply softly, keeping your eyes on your two children.

“Her name is Pumpkin!” Hyunwoo exclaims.

“Sorry, Hyunnie,” San chuckles, “Momma and I call her that, but you can keep calling her Pumpkin if you’d like to.”

“Her name is Pumpkin.” he pouts.

You became stronger throughout life’s trials in the past few years. And just as San told you, under that cherry tree, there’s always sun after a storm. This storm gave you a rainbow after, and her name is Soohyun.

COPYRIGHT STARLITMARK 2023© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED — reposting/modifying any fic or piece of original writing posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations are not permitted. 

Networks: @cultofdionysusnet​ @kwritersworld​ @k-vanity​

Tag List strikethrough = unable to tag: @jaehunnyy​ @roseforseonghwa @spiderrenjunfics @umbralhelwolf​ @ericssmile​ @honeyhuii​ @tarutarumilk

[yandere-paramour]

Chapter Seven

After breakfast you started to feel a little stronger. You had some food in your stomach, the cloudiness and pain in your head cleared, and your limbs felt a little easier to lift. You weren’t at 100%, but it was almost comparable.

You sat obediently in your chair as Atalanta took the plates to the sink. There was no point in trying to run right now. She had ears like a hawk, looking back with a watchful eye any time you even breathed a little too hard. Your legs were still wobbly, and you would never make it to the door. it wouldn’t be feasible.

“Now, Darling,” She came back, placing a hand on your head and gently smoothing down your hair, “I have the whole day to spend with you, my love. What would you like to do?

You wanted to escape, but you weren’t going to tell her that, so you just stayed quiet, pretending that the tiles on the floor were arranged in the most interesting pattern in the world.

A little frustrated by your lack of response, she knelt in front of you, putting one hand on your knee, gripping firmly. With the other hand, she used her fingertips to slowly tilt your chin up until you looked her in the eye.

“Darling, I know you’re still adjusting, but you cannot ignore me when I am speaking to you. It is rude and I won’t tolerate it,” She scolded you like you were an errant child, and your face burned.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“Forgiven, Darling. Just remember for next time,” She strokes your cheek a few times and you resist the urge to lean into her touch for comfort after your chastisement, “How about I give you a tour? This is your new home, after all.”

A tour? You visibly perk up. Mapping out the layout of this blasted apartment will make it ten times easier if you ever need to hide or set a trap or whatever.

“Sure!” You say, trying to seem happy and excited.

Atalanta looks a little startled by your enthusiasm, but she quickly controls herself and smiles back, holding out her hand in a way that looks both effortless and well-practiced, “Lovely. If I may escort you?”

You appreciate her giving you the illusion of choice, but you know that unless you either want to fall or make her angry, you are going to have to take her hand. You take it, using her strength to pull yourself to your feet. She barely reacts; she seems to be much stronger than you thought, her muscles barely flex when pulling you up.

“Let’s start here then go upstairs. First up, the kitchen and dining room,” She laughs, showing you the rooms you both are in and can see.

It is a pitiful attempt at a joke, but the way she says it is both awkward and endearing. You crack a smile, and she lights up. She explains that her chef comes over in the early evenings to make dinner and prep things for breakfast, but she makes it a point to tell you that you are welcome to cook/make/bake anything you like, as long as you be careful. She does not want to see you hurt, she explains, and she would like even less to see you hungry.

You know what the living room looks like, and the next room is a small bathroom, so you spend little time on those. Down the lefthand hallway are two rooms across the hall from each other. Atalanta unlocks and opens the door to show you her training room. Every surface below six feet off the ground is padded. The walls have those blue squishy pads you’re used to seeing on the walls of high school gyms for wayward basketball players, and the floor is covered in those spongy pads you would usually associate with small children. When she leads you in, you like the way they squish and give under your toes.

“Is this your… gym?” You ask

“Of sorts. In the mornings before work, I like to come down here to exercise and practice martial arts.”

“You practice by yourself?” This could potentially be important information.

“Sometimes, but I have a trainer who comes a few mornings a week to spar with me. I can only practice kicks and punches on that for so long,” She gestures behind her to the rubber man-shaped dummy standing stoically in the corner, “I have a tackling dummy too but it’s not nearly as fun alone.”

“That’s… cool?” You stammer. Was that a threat?

“Come, we still have much to see. Do you like flowers?”

It is when she is ushering you out of the training room that you remember you haven’t seen the room across the hall yet. You reach for the doorknob and she catches your wrist in a firm grips. You tug away instinctually, but in your weakened state, she has you in a vice grip.

“Atalanta-” You start.

“If you truly want to see that room, I will show it to you, but it will not hold good memories. I prepared that room to be one of contemplation.

“C-Contemplation?” You must’ve looked a little scared because she softens her grip.

“When you misbehave, this room will be a form of minor punishment. You will be required to stay in here a number of hours corresponding to whatever infraction you committed. Knowing this, do you still want to see?”

You shake your head no, and she releases your wrist, pulling you close to her and wrapping her arms around you. You stay stiff, not wanting to relax into her.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, Darling. It’s just going to be difficult to adjust these first few weeks,” She pats your head, “Come, let me show you the terrace. If it’s not too cold, we can stay out there a while.”

Atalanta was right; the terrace was lovely. It was divided into two areas, enclosed with white walls almost six feet high. If you stood on a chair, you maybe could’ve seen over them, but as you suspected, you were high up, at least 10 stories. One area was a sort of sitting area. Comfortable cushions rested on a wooden base, and multicolored flowers surrounded them, making a sort of cute nook to rest in. The other side was dedicated mostly to plants, bushes, and even small trees. It was a veritable garden up here, complete with small lamps strewn over the top of the wall. You guessed they would provide cute ambient lighting at night. 

Atalanta was amused by your shock, “Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” You said in awe, “How much did this cost?”

She waved your query off, “Irrelevant. What matters is the beauty. I often come out here in the evenings to read and relax.”

“That sounds amazing,” You give her a genuine smile.

“I’ll have to take you out sometime. The flowers are switched out with seasonal varieties so they are always blooming. It remains pretty year-round. Like you.”

You blush, turning away from her, “L-Let’s go upstairs.

Upstairs is more predictable. There is your Atalanta’s master bedroom and bathroom, along with two other unused rooms. Atalanta’s office doubles as the library; it is a very large room with an entire wall being glass, letting in lots of natural light. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves cover the walls, and you even recognize a few titles. It seems Atalanta has kept every book she’s ever read since college. It is so comfortable and clean, everything in you screams to grab a book, sink down into one of the plush chairs, and read for the rest of the day.

Next door to the library is a medium-sized screening room. When you enter, you gasp. You thought only rich people in mega-mansions had their own movie theaters but clearly Atalanta does. The largest grey couch you’ve ever seen dwarfs the room, facing a large projector screen. There are beanbags in the corners, ready to be propped right in front of the movie.  A stack of folded blankets is in a basket by the couch.

“I do not get a lot of chances to watch movies, but sometimes I work at home and work in here,” She tells you, “What do you like to watch?”

You can barely think, “I-I’m not sure?”

“That’s okay. How about we relax and watch a movie after dinner tonight? I can have some sweets brought up if that would please you.”

Your eyes light up, “Sure!”

The rest of the day is spent rotating between Atalanta’s study, the terrace, and the bedroom. You still feel tired, and soon after reading for an hour or so in the study you begin complain that you feel sleepy. She walks you to the bedroom and puts you down for a nap; you close your eyes obediently, curling into the warm blankets. After 15 minutes, she evidently judges you to be asleep and leaves, heading somewhere else in the apartment.

You sit back up; now you can think in peace.

You cycle back through the tour in your mind, creating a map. If everything goes to plan, you will be able to slip out sometime tonight. Atalanta slept like a rock, and you tested it last night, starting with a small wiggle and working up to fully sitting up in bed. She only moved when you sat up, and even then she only rolled over. 

She promised a movie in the screening room tonight. If you could get her distracted by the movie, she would forget to give you the sleeping drug. She might even forget to turn on any security measures for the apartment. Once she fell asleep herself, you could inch yourself out of her hold, steal a pair of her shoes, and slip out the door. If you left in the very early hours of the morning, you’d have a large window of time before she even woke up, let alone tried to find you. 

Laying back down, you tried to conserve your energy. You truly were tired, and of your plan to be awake all night was ensuing, you would need as much rest as you could get.

[another-identityofmine]

•••••I just don’t know, hun•••••

Author’s note: This was inspired by Elvis’ beautiful and wholesome masterpiece, “Mama Liked The Roses.” I hope that this will not be the Christmas piece for me. It’s kinda depressing, not gonna lie.

Author won’t shut up: I feel that this is kinda went on during the first Christmas without Gladys, but just inserting reader.

warnings: grieving, crying, quietness, just sad

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Everything was so silent. An uncomfortable emptiness, in every aspect of the Graceland home. Vernon tucked up and away upstairs in his bedroom above where you seat. Where you and Elvis lay, on the big couches of the living, neither of you can help the memories that flood into your minds.

That warm smile that could fix no matter what type of bad day.

The aroma that filled the entire house, trailing into the kitchen where baked goods and foods were kept and made, that would make any man’s tummy rumble for more. Even after having a feast.

Your attention is back on Elvis, who seems so still and lifeless almost on your lap. His dark black curls that slick and lay against your skirt, as his cheek nuzzles against your thigh. The rest of his long body is limp on the couch, not knowing how to feel.

Neither anyone bothered to decorate. With the maids and housekeepers gone and up, it was empty and dark. Dust collecting on desks and furniture, the whole home that used to be warm and bright. Was now dark and gray.

“Are you hungry, hunny?” You spoke up in a soft whisper, gently petting his head of dark-raven hair. He can only hum out a sound, shrugging slightly against you.

“Mama liked the roses. She grew them in the yard. And winter always came around…and made the growing way too hard.” He then out of the blue, spoke nothing above a whisper. He wraps his arms around your thighs and you feel hot tears poor down his cheeks.

“It’s not Christmas without her. What are we gonna do without her? W-what am I gonna do, pillow?” He cried softly into your lap, dampening your skirt, and you frowned at the poor, tired soul before you. Your heart would’ve fluttered at the pet name he called you since highschool, but it just didn’t seem right to have flushed cheeks at this moment. Will it ever?

You gently cupped his cheeks and brought up his chin, you looked at the broken man that held onto you like you’d disappear if you didn’t. Those blue eyes were now cloudy and gray, filled with raw heartache and depression.

what are we going to do?

Your mind couldn’t help think, as your eyes continued to trail down his trembling features. His quivering lip couldn’t stop wobbling, even as you bent down to pepper comforting kisses against his face. He then hugged you so tightly to his chest, sniffling and burying his face into your neck. Burning tears ran down his chilled cheeks and onto your skin. You can only sigh, and pet the back of his head. Only able to support him on such a level, knowing only a dollar on how much his mama meant to his dear soul.

“I just don’t know, hun.” You say gently, and you hated to admit it. You honestly didn’t know what you’d do. Neither of you doubted things would get back to how they were before, you both doubted that you’d ever truly be happy or really get over her passing.

Would Elvis ever be the Elvis that you knew? Would Vernon continue to have this quiet, chill energy? Would Graceland always be cold and dark…

I just don’t know, hun…I just don’t know. You think you to yourself as your ears continue to hear the small sniffles and cries that Elvis owns.

You can only hope that things turn out better in the future. That maybe, just maybe, you’ll both find a way to be happy again. If the heavens above shine some ray of sunshine, some way, some how into this black, sorrowful cloud.

Just maybe.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Author’s note: I really don’t know what’s going on with me… I’ll try, but cannot promise, that I’ll make a happier snippet for the holidays. Mwah, love you all

[recurring-polynya]

Idk if you’ve answered this question (sorry if you have) before, but how do you think Renji & Rukia first met ? What do you think their life was like originally before Soul Society ?

Pardon me if I'm reading this wrong, but...Rukia and Renji's first meeting is enshrined pretty thoroughly in canon? She rescued him from a water heist that was about to turn disastrous.

This is from Chapter 98/Episode 32: A Star and a Stray Dog, which is the first place you should be looking if you're interested in pre-canon Renruki lore.

As to the second part of your question...you mean before they died? What sort of lives did they have in the World of the Living?

I'm gonna pontificate, so I'll throw that under a cut

First off, I am fascinated with the fact that Kubo gives us nothing about what anyone's living life was like. On one hand, I would like to know everyone's pre-history, but on the other, I'm glad he didn't, like as a literary choice. The slate is supposed to be wiped clean. It doesn't matter. It's maddening, but also correct.

It's also one of those places that is just ✨fanfic free real estate✨ in terms of I think everyone should make up their own version for their blorbos, so of course I have them for Renji and Rukia. I have absolutely nothing to support these, they are just what I felt in my heart.

I have actually talked about Renji's beforedeath quite a bit, here and there in various fanfics, usual under the conceit that, particularly in their Inuzuri days, he would sometimes blurt out some half-remembered thing and then promptly forget it again. Here an excerpt from Chapter 3 of go places:

It’s an Alive Memory, Rukia is nearly certain. Most souls get them. All the boys did, from time to time. To Renji, it’s just brain dust. Whatever it is in Soul Society that makes people forget their lives also makes this memory detritus slippery to hold onto. Renji won’t think of this later, or attach any importance to this conversation. The funny thing is, after ten years of watching him stumble through these moments, Rukia probably has a better idea of what Renji’s life was like than he does. He lived on a farm of some sort. A small one, or at least his family grew a lot of their own food. He died of a fever. Nearly all of his Alive Memories involve his mother. Rukia is almost positive that Renji’s mother is the one who taught him to write. The sewing scissors were likely hers. In Rukia’s imagination, Renji’s mother is very tall and beautiful and kind. Rukia doesn’t need to use her imagination to know that Renji loved his mother very much.

Just to offer a little more detail--doing the math out, where Bleach starts in the early 00s, Rukia and Renji have been separated for 40 years and knew each other for 10 years before that, it would make a lot of sense for both of them to have died in WWII. However, I like to think that time is very wobbly, especially in the outer Rukon, so I like to make their deaths a little earlier-- specifically, I think that Renji died in the 1918 flu pandemic, which may have contributed to getting a plague spirit for a zanpakutou. That being said, my general vibe for his childhood is based on Kanta, the neighbor kid from My Neighbor Totoro, which takes place in the 50s. In any case, he had a pretty small and unremarkable life in rural Japan, aside from the fact that he was loved very much, which will never be unremarkable, no matter how common it may be.

I have written less about Rukia's beforedeath, mostly because she was too young when she died to have any phantom memories. [Note: I know there are some theories out there, based on some arcane clues that Kubo has dropped that Rukia may not actually be a normal soul and may be related to Hell. That's...fine. While I'm never going to say no to a storyline that centers Rukia, I really do hope that it comes to naught. Ichigo has enough Crazy Origin going on and I like the Rukia's backstory the way it is, so I'm just going to ignore all of that for the sake of this post]. Ahem! So, infant death is not anything surprising, or even really interesting, but what makes Rukia's kind of compelling is the fact that her much-older sister died at the same time. To me, this indicates either a natural disaster or a death-by-violence.

As I said above, there are infinity ways you can go with this, but to me, there were two important things I wanted to capture 1) given Renji's descriptions of Rukia having an inherent grace and nobility, and the idea that something about Hisana caught Byakuya's eye, I thought that maybe they should have been noble, and 2) I wanted them to live by the sea. I do not actually remember how I landed on this, but in the 1850s, a bunch of sea fortresses were constructed to protect Japan by attack from sea (see here for more detail). This was the tail end of the Edo period and I liked the idea that maybe Rukia came from an old samurai family, and her father was sent to oversee one of these coastal forts. Did they die in a bombardment? A bad storm? The Kanto earthquake? I never got that far. I'm not even sure if this is a realistic scenario, if they had civilians living there, etc, this was just a half-thought-out thing I came up with for a bonus chapter of a fanfic that someone requested once. The one other detail from that that I came up with and stand by is that I think there were more siblings in their family between Hisana and Rukia. I also like that this idea that makes Rukia somewhat older than Renji, even though the math is impossible and the points are made up anyway.

[spiritmadeofstars]

Something to live for, someone to die for (Lokixfem!Reader) CH 2 [on-going]

Summary: Birdie meets a kind soul.

NO use of Y/N, instead “you” and using a nickname

Warnings: violence, blood, torture, adult themes in later chapters, 18+ (warnings and tags to be added) Read at your own risk, eh?

Chapter 2 - There goes the kind looking doctor

Chapter 1 here chapter 3 already on my AO3

I was in urgent need to write this, so I am posting the chapters as I write. Just a warning that all is unedited, but it's from my heart, and that's all that matters.

The urge to vomit woke you up. You heaved for a while but all that came out was some bloody saliva. Your head throbbed and your vision was slightly blurry. You shut your eyes and took a deep breath. It was day time, probably, as the room was well lit. After blinking a few times, you started noticing the spacious room, the bed, the table and a few chairs, some cabinets and a big golden bird cage. And you were in it. Someone probably thought they were being very funny.

“Do you like it, Birdie?” Loki appeared to your left. His ability to appear out of thin air started to annoy you, your heart beat even louder, making your head throb violently.

“I love it.” You wanted to say but only whispered, the heaving left your throat tired and dry. At this point you wondered if Tony hadn’t installed a similar cage in your room, just for the shits and giggles. Loki must have listened to the intercom before disposing of it. Maybe they were coming for you...

“How is your little brain doing?” Loki started to pace in front of your cage, each step looking deliberate.

“Not good, actually.” You cleared your throat and he looked at you, his eyes boring into yours. “Looks like your presence makes my brain commit a suicide. I feel like it’s gonna burst my skull open and run away from you.” Loki’s lips twitched.

“Guards!” He shouted, and you wanted to slice his throat for being so loud. “Take her to the healer and then straight back here. No food. Don’t forget to lock the cage, no need to guard her. I’ll deal with her when I come back.” He finished and left through the door, you were surprised he did not just vanish into thin air.

“Get up, human.” One of the guards, the female, said. You realized you were no longer tied up, but your wrists bore the markings from the rope. You slowly pushed yourself up, taking a moment to catch your breath. “On your knees, head down, hands behind your back.”

“I’m weak.” You tried.

“Don’t care. I’m not stupid enough to underestimate you.” You had to give it to her, looks like the bad guys were starting to evolve. You did as she commanded, you were too weak to escape anyway. If you tried to fly, not only would your brain escape, but your insides, too.

On your knees, you put your hands behind your back. You could feel the warm hands of the guard as she secured the binds. Suddenly she grabbed you and pulled you to your feet. They were wobbly, so you leaned on her, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“I have to close my eyes, please don’t let me run into a wall.” You said, feeling like the world was spinning too quickly, and you were about to fall apart. You heard a chuckle, but felt the other guard, male, grab your other arm. You were grateful that they weren’t being dicks.

After a minute or two, you apparently arrived at your destination. Two knocks sounded and when you opened your eyes a young man stood in the doorway. He looked you over and raised an eyebrow.

“Put her on the table.” He said, his voice quiet and warm. The guards took you inside, swapped your bindings, so that your hands were in the front, making it easier for you to lie down on the examination table. “I won’t be long, wait outside.” The healer said and you could hear the door lock.

“You look rough, Midgardian.” He stated. You managed a grin and he seemed surprised. He seemed to work some magic, as little lights appeared above you, an image of your body of sorts. “How are you feeling?”

“Pretty rough.” You exhaled. “Where am I?” He seemed kind, so you wanted to try your luck.

“In a healer’s office, of course.” No luck, then. “There’s some bad wounds, nothing I can’t fix. Some trauma to your brain, hm. Your human brains are weak, I suppose a week should be enough for it to fully heal. But your mind…” He seemed to search your eyes, then grunted. “That’s a bit more complicated.” You felt relief.

Loki wanted something, and it seemed only you knew the location. Well, you did not, but you would remember. You had time. If the healer lets him know, Loki’ll let you heal before he starts torturing you, maybe. You’d convince him to take you back to Earth, call Tony and co. and be saved.

The healer started to laugh, his face crinkled in a genuine smile. You frowned.

“You Midgardians think you’re clever, but I can see your little plan in your face, your eyes. Loki is the God of Lies. You think he won’t notice such an obvious lie when I did just now?” You were dumbfounded. He laughed at your expression and helped you sit up.

You watched him mix something, his worktable similar to a witch’s potions cabinet. He turned to you with a potion of his own. You drank it without protest, it seemed it was no use to fight right now. Weak, nauseous, your poker face obviously on vacation. You needed to get yourself together before planning anything.

“Undress, I need to clean your wounds.” The healer looked you over. “And you.”

“Can’t you just magic the blood and vomit away?”

“And where’s the fun in that?” He looked at you with a serious expression and then grinned. Your brain must be beyond repair, because you felt as if you were in a bad comedy. “Should I call Dina? The one who brought you?” You were used to being treated, pulled apart and put back together, there was no space for being shy in a life or death situation, so you left the societal need for virtue in the lab where they helped make you.

“Doesn’t matter to me, but I need help with the binds.” You stretched out your hands, only now properly looking at them. The potion the healer gave you was quick working, your head no longer throbbing as violently and your sight clearer. There were no binds, only two thick manacle bands. You pulled your hands apart from each other a little and felt a pull.

“When you’re treating an enemy, you don’t want to release their handcuffs every time there’s a need to get dressed, to undressed.” Fuck, they were really getting smarter. You reacher for your zipper, pulling it down. The bands allowing your hands to be 10 centimeters apart, and no more. But you managed to get your suit off your shoulders and over the bands, as if there was nothing connecting them.

You were wearing your plain white underwear, so you weren’t left naked in front of the stranger, but he was not even looking at you. The healer was quick at work on more potions, probably for your wounds. He caught you struggling with the lower part of your suit and decided to help you.

“Can I at least know your name?” You asked, unable to let him undress you in silence.

“Silas.” He smiled as he told you his name and you could not see him as a villain. He looked more like an ally. He was surely here against his will. Silas would be the one to help you escape. “It’s probably evil of me to only tell you now, but your head injury must have caused you to speak your thoughts out loud. I’m sorry, it was funny to let you tell me everything.” Eyes wide, you stared at him, feeling betrayed.

“So you are here of your own free will, then?” Feeling defeated, you decided to just voice everything of your own accord.

“Very much, yes. You know, to me, you are the enemy. The villain who thinks they are doing what’s right. It’s two sides of the same coin, or how the saying of yours goes.” He put your boots and suit on a table and returned back to you, looking over your legs. “You are Birdie?” You rolled your eyes.

“Apparently.” You were never going to get rid of this. Silas grabbed you by the arm and helped you off the examination table, leading you to an adjacent room. It was a sterile and at the same time messy looking bathroom. A little circular tub to your right, a bench to your left, and a curtain in the far left corner of the room. “Is that a toilet?”

“Yes, it is. I can give you a second to relieve yourself and then help you with the bath.” Silas said, and left the room without waiting for your answer. You were grateful.

It took you a moment to make your way towards the alien looking toilet. You were grateful you did not piss yourself during the trip. No surprise, Silas felt comfortable leaving you here. There was no way of escaping, no window, nothing. Perhaps you could drown yourself.

When you were done, you knocked on the door, letting your healer know you were ready. He stayed silent as he filled the tub with water and added some more of his potions. He motioned for you to get in the bathtub and turned his back to you.

“How gallant, but I can’t get this bra off. It goes over the head.” He turned to face you, turned you around and helped you out of the bralette. Then he turned his back to you once again. You undressed the rest and lowered yourself into the water. “Are you the good cop? Is someone going to come in and try to drown me?” The water felt good, but your wounds stung.

“I believe the torture is scheduled to start next week, you’re safe until then.” Silas turned around when you were submerged, the water was murky from the stuff he put in it. “Will you need help?”

“Why are you being kind to me?” You asked, unable to comprehend.

“I am a healer, not a torturer. Do your healers treat your prisoners differently? Do they just keep stabbing and cutting after the battle ends?” His voice started to rise, his eyes filled with anger.

“No, I’m sorry. I just thought-”

“Don’t misunderstand. Just because I’m kind to you does not mean I am your friend. I was tasked to heal you. Until you are of use, you will stay alive. I don’t care if Loki cuts off your arm to get what he wants. If he brings you to me, I will heal you. Over and over again, until there is nothing left to heal.” You watched him in horror, realized your mistake too late. He seemed too human, too kind, too pretty with his golden hair and warm green eyes to be this brutal. “Don’t drown.” He said before he slammed the door as he left the bathroom.

You sat there frozen for a moment. What were you even thinking? Trusting the first kind looking person, you would not dare to do that even back on Earth. People were unpredictable and fake, people of all planets, it seems. You made a mental note to keep your guard up and to get it together.

After approximately 10 minutes you decided this was enough. You got out of the tub, used the toilet once more, just in case. Who knows when someone will be kind again. You put on your panties, but were unable to put the bra back on. There was a thin towel on the bench, that you managed to put around yourself, took the bra and left the bathroom.

“Silas?” You called, just in case.

“Here.” You heard from the examination room. You made your way back. “Sit on the table, I’ll just put on some salve on your wounds.” Without a word, you let him take the towel away and tend to your wounds. You did not even realize how many there were.

You did not remember the fight with Loki and his men, but they must have nicked you a few times. Your head was bleeding, of course, and Loki cut out your chip, but you did not realize there were wounds in your legs as well. Maybe you flew through one of those glass displays?

“I’m done, get dressed.”

“Can you help me with the bra-”

“No. Your suit was cut up in too many places. Dina brought you some spare clothes. You can ask her for help.” He said, and left through the main door. You caught a glimpse of your guards, and Dina entered a few seconds later.

“There goes the kind looking doctor.” You whispered to yourself. Dina helped you into black linen looking pants and a leather top. The sleeves covered your manacle bands, but the pull was still there. You were allowed to keep your boots.

Just a few minutes later you were back in your cage, locked. Like properly locked, the guards checked three times. It seemed the manacles were somehow connected to the cage, because when the lock was secured, the pull between your hands faded. You could move freely. As freely as you could in a cage where you could stand up and take three steps to cross the whole thing.

You sat down and leaned back, resting your head on the steel bars. You thought about what Silas said, about you being cut up over and over again, only to be healed. You realized you have felt too safe on Earth, with the Avengers… you quickly forgot about your family abandoning you, leaving you to a scientist that promised to cure you only to turned you into something else entirely.

You forgot you used to be a lonely kid, strapped to an examination table, too similar to the one you were laying on just moments ago. Full of needles and fear. How could you have forgotten? Was it because the Avengers were your family now? Because you felt like they would never leave you? Yet here you were, in a cage on a different planet, a prisoner of the person who wanted to rule Earth and in the process helped you escape the hellhole you called home all those years ago. What a cruel fate, to be unknowingly freed by the person who would catch you just a little while later.

[gainerstories]

Lifetime Supply: Chapter 4

Written by: Gainer Stories

Lifetime Supply is a collaborative story penned by Gainer Stories and Gaining Fiction.

Ryan didn’t notice there was a hole in the crotch of his pants until he spilled Taco Bell on himself on the way home from school. There was no denying these jeans were getting snug. Hell, he could barely even button them. But for how long was he walking around with a solid three inches of thigh fat bulging out? 

In the last several weeks Ryan had undeniably gained a good deal of weight. Nothing was fitting right, everything was jiggling, and he was constantly hungry. It almost felt like that damn Adesco box was conspiring against him. No matter how many times he tried to cancel with that customer service representative, Luke, more boxes showed up with better and better treats. 

Nevertheless, Ryan knew he couldn’t blame everything on Adesco. Perhaps the snacking had kickstarted his weight gain, but it wasn’t forcing him to pig out like he had been. For some reason he was simply hungry. He wanted food all the time, the more the better. Pizza, ice cream, burgers, burritos, he couldn’t get enough and the weight was catching up fast. 

It wasn’t only his wardrobe that was pointing out how chubby he was getting. Ryan was also making a concerted effort to go on dates in an effort to get over his ex. In fact, he had just left one when he noticed the tear in his jeans. The guy was attractive and nice, but seemed uninterested and now Ryan was worried if the fact he was busting out of his jeans might have contributed to that. 

Returning to the apartment, Ryan tossed the Taco Bell wrappers into the neighbors trash so that Ahmed wouldn’t see them. He didn’t know why, but he tried to hide his piggishness from his roommate, even though Ahmed often joined in. In fact, Ahmed had put on some weight himself, but he was also gaining muscle so it was less noticeable. 

“Woah there chubs,” Ahmed greeted Ryan as soon as he walked through the door. “Was gonna see if you wanted to go in on some wings, but looks like you just ate.” 

“Why do you say that?” Ryan was incredulous. 

“Well besides the fact your pants are literally bursting at the seams, you have a sauce packet stuck to your ass.”

“Christ,” Ryan muttered and grabbed a snack from one of the many Adesco boxes littering the house. “I guess it’s that obvious. Maybe that’s why five out five dates won’t text me back. Am I really that fat?”

“You’re looking thick my man, but don’t sweat it. It suits you!” 

“I gotta get out of these pants. I’ll get in on that order, just double whatever you’re getting. We have any beer?” 

Ryan grabbed a beer from the fridge and headed to his room. He felt great relief removing his denim and tossing them in the trash. Unfortunately, even the sweatpants he put on felt a little snug. Looking in the mirror, they left little to the imagination. Ryan’s had definitely gotten cakier, and the elastic waistband sunk beneath his muffin top. Ryan resolved he’d have to purchase some new clothes once again tomorrow morning. But tonight, he and Ahmed would feast. 

Ryan wobbled through the fast fashion chain browsing the racks. He had no idea what size he was anymore. He didn’t even know what would look good on his body. After multiple humiliating experiences in the dressing room, he settled on the fact that it was best to buy a little bit larger than he needed. The extra room would conceal the weight he gained, and besides the clothes were cheap and would probably shrink in the wash anyway. 

It was the same cashier at the counter as last time, Antoine. Antoine couldn’t keep his eyes off Ryan. He glanced at the college student’s swollen midsection every few seconds, stirring insecurity in Ryan. Was he being judged? Did this guy remember him? Was it embarrassing he was buying such large sizes? By the time the transaction was over, Ryan was sweating bullets and made a beeline for the food court to quell his anxiety. After a corn dog and cinnamon roll he was headed back home. 

Unloading his purchases, Ryan began to doubt himself. Why did he buy horizontal stripes? He should have known better. And he accidentally grabbed a button up in the wrong size. He had gotten this specifically to wear to the LGBT mixer that evening with Ahmed, and although it fit Ryan was afraid it was a little too snug.

Luckily a cold breeze came in that evening and Ryan was able to cover up by throwing a zippered hoodie over the button up. Standing next to Ahmed, Ryan’s insecurity heightened. Ahmed was developing broad shoulders and baby biceps that framed the swelling at his midsection, whereas Ryan’s belly pushed outward dramatically. 

Once they got inside, Ryan felt a bit of relief. Most of the guys there were gawky and awkward. In fact, no one really caught his eye. He originally hoped he might get a date or two out of this event, but Ryan was quickly discovering the only perk was the free food. Catering was supplied by one of his favorite Mediterranean spots in town and Ryan couldn’t get enough.

He found himself piling his plate high and returning for seconds and thirds before continuing to graze for the rest of the night. Occasionally Ahmed would leave Ryan to flirt with some boys on the dance floor, and so Ryan just stationed himself at the buffet. As he was chomping down a stuffed grape leaf, Ryan spied a hot guy from across the room. 

The man was fairly fit with broad shoulders and a defined chest, floppy brown hair, and great legs. Ryan washed down his food with a drink and took a deep breath. Looking down, he became self conscious again. The buttons on his shirt were straining. He couldn’t believe it. They were fine at the beginning of the night! 

Still, Ryan had forced himself to go in for the kill. Guzzling a rum and coke he approached the sexy stranger who only became hotter up close. Just as Ryan was about to say hello the guy turned to the bathroom and waved. Ryan’s eyes followed the action, and his heart sank. The guy was waving at none other than his ex, Jason. Ryan was trapped as Jason approached and stared at him oddly. 

“Oh my god, Ryan, I didn’t recognize you at first. You’re looking… good?” 

The question mark at the end of that sentence made Ryan want to scream. 

“You look good,” Jason reiterated, unsure who he was trying to convince. “This is my boyfriend, Luke.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Luke said and shook Ryan’s hand with a twinkle in his eye. 

Ryan’s head was spinning. Was this the same guy from Adesco? It couldn’t be…

[slashersgirlypop]

Grilled Cheese Chapter 13.

TW: NON-CON KISSING

(September 3rd, 1978)

            I groaned, rolling onto my side, away from the blinding ray of sunlight that shone on my eyes. My back ached from whatever the hell Michael laid me on. I knew we were no longer driving, but I didn’t know where we were.

I opened my eyes, sitting up and rubbing my neck. I was in a dirty, bare-walled room with stains on the carpet. There was a small, smashed window, the glass scattered on the ground beneath it. On the ground next to me was a shattered mirror, with bits of my reflection along the floor, a constellation of me. What was the white thing on my forehead?

I reached up and touching the side of my head where it was aching. My fingers brushed along gauze. Taking one of the pieces of glass, I investigated my reflection. There was gauze wrapped around my head clumsily, but with intent. There was a small dark stain on the side of my head, probably from where Michael smashed my head against my headboard. I gently lifted the gauze, grimacing at the wound. It didn’t look too deep, but it was a head wound so it seemed worse than it probably was.

Getting up, slightly wobbly, I made my way to the door on the other side of the room. I glanced back at the makeshift bed I was on. It seemed like a sleeping bag, well, my sleeping bag. Michael must have packed it. I noticed another sleeping bag, maybe a few feet away from mine. Maybe someone left it?

I slowly opened the door, stepping out into the next room. I think I was in some abandoned mobile home. It looked like someone was in a rush to leave, and whoever used to live here had problems. By that, I mean the various amounts of cheap beer bottles scattered along the hallway.

Stepping into the front room, I saw Michael. He was sitting on a broken sofa that was tilted on its side. 

“Hi,” I croaked out, my throat dry from lack of water.

“What time is it, Mikey?” He pointed to a clock leaning against the wall. 2:45.

“How long are we going to stay here, uh, wherever here is?” He didn’t respond, only returning his attention back to the sketch book he had in his lap.

“Okay…Do you still have whatever you wrapped my head in so I can maybe clean the wound?” I asked. He pointed to the bag on the floor.

Retrieving the first aid kit, I went to the bathroom and tried to find a reasonably clean spot on the messy and stained counter.

I hissed as I felt the alcohol sting my skin, gently cleaning the wound. I was surprised Michael had bandaged my head, although it was a sloppy job. It’s the thought that counts I suppose, though.

I gently applied fresh gauze, content with the job I did. I mean, it wasn’t nurse-level good, but when you are virtually alone most of your life, you learn how to treat a wound decently.

As I cleaned my wound on my head, I thought back on the strange and crazy turn of events that led to this moment. It’s been, what, four days since Michael has entered my life? He entered my home one night, demanded I prepare him food, choked me, spanked me, killed my assistant manager in my own fucking home, and then knocked me out and took me God knows where. To top it all off, despite my dizzy head, probably from the wound he gave me, I am relatively calm about the whole situation.

Shouldn’t I be screaming? Begging, pleading for my release? Saying I won’t tell a soul if he lets me go?

Why am I taking this whole situation so well?

“Mra?” I softly smiled as I finished the knot on the freshly applied gauze wrapped around my head, feeling Mrs. Petunia brush softly against my leg.

I guess having something that provides some sort of comfort does keep me more grounded and less likely to act irrationally. Okay, aside from my escape attempts which have ended with me being choked or spanked cruelly.

Exiting the bathroom, I walked back into the living room. Michael was in his same position, only moving to draw more to…whatever was on his sketchbook. Jesus, was that a picture of him stabbing some poor blonde girl?

“Um, so, what now?” He paused his drawing, slowly looking up at me.

“I mean, I’m surprised I’m taking this whole situation well right now, but what will happen from this point on? Stay here forever? Because if it is, I need some cleaning supplies because this looks like some, uh, drug…place,” I finished weakly, looking at the several grossly colored stains along the wall along with the cheap empty beer cans around the room. Why did it smell like…a skunky smell, I wanna say?

He said nothing, only nodded before drawing his attention back to his sketchbook. I sighed, crossing my arms. I jumped, feeling Mrs. Petunia begin to climb up my pant legs and then up my side, perching herself on my shoulders. She began to purr in my ear, content. I reached up and stroked her, my attention still on the silent masked killer who was using crayons to graphically depict the blood spilling out of whoever that poor lady was.

“Mikey, I’m going to be honest with you here. Why me? What’s so important about me that you couldn’t just, I don’t know, leave me at my house, at least tied up so I couldn’t escape to get help and you could get away?” He once again paused. He looked up at the wall, as if pondering his words, or something like that.

It’s really hard to tell what he’s thinking since he always has that damn rubber latex whatever on.

Finally, he flipped to a new page of his sketchbook and his hand flew across the page, writing something.

He got up once he was finished and made his way over to me. As he got closer, Mrs. Petunia grunted and hopped off my shoulder. Soon, he stood right in front of me, making me feeling immensely small and weak compared to his towering and built figure.

He handed me the paper, and I took it.

“Becuse you are m ine,” Is what was messily written on the paper.

“‘You are mine?’ Mikey, what does that even m-“ He grabbed the back of my throat and pulled me close, crouching slightly to my level. The nose of the mask briefly rubbed against mine before he pressed the fake lips against mine. Shock ran through my veins along with fear. It was over as soon as it started, and he walked back to his seat, plopping down on the sofa. It creaked under his form as I stood there frozen.

Well, this just got more complicated than I thought. Fuck.

~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~

WHAT IS UP MY BITCHES????? Yeah, things are now gonna move more into the Michael being his more bad side!!! I'm sorry it took so fuckin long to update. I've had a mental breakdown, got a new job being a waitress, been sick, and am slowly losing some of my best friends. Oh yeah, and I've officially entered the stage of having alllllll level 3000 courses at uni. so yeah. next chapter might be out next weekend. Fairwell, my fellow slasher sluts ;-3