#ill b fine eventually

[fr00tbats]

hows my anxiety??? well i have the soundrack to suspiria (1977) playing in my head at all times so

[jorvikzelda]

me, having JUST decided to invest in a new laptop this summer (a big expense): ok but what if I bought a PINK 3ds.

[zemnarihah]

ive obtained a guitar

[writefightandflightclub]

It’s a sick fic (Marc takes care of reader)! I’m in bed with pesky sniffles today, so naturally my mind is wandering to these things. Not proofed / elaborated bc of the aforementioned. Also, Marc was the obvious choice for comfort today because this morning I read @astroboots’ wonderful period sex with Marc fic! So, he was on the brain and I definitely have to acknowledge that fic had a large part in spawning this. I strongly suggest you read CiCi’s fic, in fact, and ignore this one 😝 (see my last reblog if you’d like to check it out).

Warnings: painkiller mentions; reader is ill. Comfort from Marc.

You’re sick in bed.

Marc’s all worried. Has been dabbing your forehead with a damp cloth, hovering around as you dozed and timing out your rounds of painkillers.

When you stir again this time, from the sticky haze of a fever dream - and not in a good way - Marc is poised on the lip of bed, all DeNiro brow, crumpled up in concern until his eyebrows knit together and his puppy dog eyes shine beneath.

Even in this state he stirs something deep between your loins; not that you’d be in any position to act on it.

“Marc,” you croak softly, forcing a thin smile, but it does little to assuage his worry.

“Heyyyy, Shortcake,” he says softly, forcing a smile up until his eyes crinkle with the effort of it. “How are you doing?”

You pop your lower lip, feeling a little sorry for yourself. “Still quite bleugh.”

His face tightens with pain, and you feel a pang of guilt for not downplaying it more. He does worry something rotten about you.

He dips forward, his Magen David pooling against your chest. Providing a pleasant, cooling shock against your tacky skin. You feel Marc’s lips softly brush your forehead with a kiss. “Well, I’ve got something for ya.”

Your eyes tick to the clock in confusion. “Already had the medicine. Not time yet,” you argue weakly, in a babyfied voice.

He smiles softly, and this time it is not forced - it’s hard for him to hold it back. “Not that kind of medicine. Here, I’ll show you.”

He scoops your hands up gently into his, and they feel rough and sturdy against you. You don’t know where he’s going with this, but you don’t really have the strength to argue either; however, luckily, you trust him implicitly, and you know he won’t lead you wrong.

“I’m not supposed t’ do this. Told Khonshu it was an emergency. Ground the bastard down eventually.”

“Wha-?”

“Ssshhh. Don’t worry, baby girl. I got you, huh?”

You stop protesting and you nod weakly, as Marc holds his hands more firmly around yours.

Then, in a flash, Khonshu’s suit begins to wind around him, bandages curling and snaking around his thick, sturdy frame. His eyes glowing white like the celestial glisten of the moon.

Next though, as he holds you, you watch in silent awe as the bandages unwind from his forearms. As they wrap around you, snaking gently up and around your arms. It kinda tickles.

Ah. Suddenly it makes sense to you.

The healing suit.

You shake your head softly, and you try to release your grip on Marc’s hands, suddenly full of worry. Won’t he get in trouble with the bird for a stunt like this? For sharing his power; with you of all people?

“B-but Marc. This isn’t an emergency,” you rationalise. “I’m fine. It’ll just take me a little longer to heal, all on my own.”

Marc looks at you softly. Intently. “Shortcake. You not feeling well? Trust me. That’s an emergency to me.” He strokes his loosely bound thumb over the ridges of your knuckles. “I can do this for you. Please. Would you let me do this?”

Damn.

Who are you to say no to those shining, puppy dog eyes? To Marc’s pure, unfettered devotion?

Except….

“But your wounds, Marc! You need the suit more than I do.” You survey his collection of grazes from his latest bout with a foe.

He looks at you though, slow and steady still, and all your reservations melt away. You see it in his face. He’s hurting; sure. But more so because you are hurting, and you think this can heal him too.

“I’m fine,” he repeats with a lazy uptick at the corner of his mouth. “Just scratches. It’ll just take a little longer to heal. All on my own.”

He has you beat there. You both want the best for each other. Would do anything to take away one another’s pain. It’s all you want.

You clasp his hands tightly in yours, heart overcome with love, and you softly concede, the bandages wrapping more steadily up you arms with your permission granted, until you and he are intertwined - in more ways than one. “Okay, Marc. Get me all better - and then I’ll take care of you, alright?”

He smiles. Shifts on the bed until his warm frame is spooning you, all safe, bandages loosening and tightening to accommodate your shifts. He kisses the back of your neck. Whispers warmly into your skin. “Got yourself a deal, Shortcake.”

You hum softly with relief. You’re not sure whether it’s the bandages, or just Marc; but you sure as hell feel better already.

[topguncortez]

A Brain on Fire || Whumptober Day 8 - B. Bradshaw

whumptober masterlist || whumptober taglist

synopsis: ever since Bradley was little he struggled to keep things in order and keep the voices in his head at bay. One day, the voices get too loud and Bradley misses the biggest day of your career.

word count: 2.8k

@ailesswhumptober prompt: panic attack

warnings: mental illness, OCD, panic attacks, mentions of self harm, cursing, mentions of sexism, tears.

For as long as Bradley could remember, he always had trouble with his thoughts. He could remember the first time the voices in his head became too loud. He had been in the grocery store with his mom, Carole. Bradley might’ve been about five at the time, just getting ready to start kindergarten. That day had started off like every other day, Carole made him breakfast; strawberry pancakes with peanut butter. She helped him get dressed and combed his brown hair. Everything seemed fine, except Bradley couldn’t turn off the voice in his head. 

He had tried to fight it as he went and played next door with the neighbors. But the voice was too loud, counting every single step that Bradley would take. He would count to ten in his head, and start over back at zero. It had been going on for hours until Bradley in the middle of the grocery store started to cry and tug at his hair. Carole’s blue eyes widened in fright as she watched her son have a breakdown. 

“I can’t stop counting! I can’t stop! Make it stop!” 

Since that day, Bradley learned ways to keep the voices in his head at bay. The doctor had diagnosed him with OCD. He learned that his mind was an unorganized but organized control center. Working at it’s own pace, doing its own thing. Everything he did had a certain methodical movement to it. He had to be in control of everything at all times, or the voices would start to get loud again. Even the slightest thing out of order would send him into a spiral, and he would start counting, over and over and over. 

But then Bradley found you. 

You were the sort of thing that Bradley had feared welcoming into his life. You were a hurricane, literally, your callsign was Hurricane. You were unorganized and loud. You flew by the seat of your pants. Most days you woke up without a single plan for your day, tossing on whatever flight suit was found on your floor and didn’t smell too awful. You were always running into work at the last minute, coffee spilling over your hand, and way too many notebooks and pencils. 

Bradley hated you at first. He hated how someone so pretty and alluring, could be so messy and out of order. But it worked for you. And eventually, Bradley got used to it. He got used to your organized chaos crashing with his. You were the sort of thrill and release his therapist had told him to find. 

Your relationship started off slow, and steady. Coffee dates at the same coffee shop, at the same table, at the same time on the same day of the week. Then it moved to dinner dates, at the same restaurant, at the same table at the same time on the same day of the week. You knew that Bradley was meticulously organized, but you didn’t know how bad it was until he invited you over the first time. You had kicked your shoes off, leaving them scattered on the mat, which Bradley had to promptly fix. There was not a single thing out of place in his house. 

“Bradley, if I went like this,” You tilted a frame that was on his wall, “Does it make you-” 

“Mad? Yes,” Bradley huffed and fixed the picture frame promptly, “I don’t like things out of order.” 

You nodded and titled the frame again. Bradley reached out to fix it, but you grabbed his hand. He felt his heart beating erratically as you squeezed his hand. 

“Y/N,” Bradley pleaded, hearing the voices in his head get louder and louder, “I really like you. . . But I need to fix this,” You looked at his brown eyes began to turn glassy, “Please.” It broke your heart to hear him sound so pitiful. You let go of his hand and he quickly fixed the frame. 

Since that night, the two of you learned to live with Bradley’s OCD. You had learned to be a little more organized, and Bradley had learned to be a little unorganized. He would still have his days where he would wake up and scrub the whole house from top to bottom, but it stopped being a weekly task. You had learned to pick up on the tells when the voices in Bradley’s head got too loud and he started counting. He had only had one serious breakdown which led to both of you in tears and you calling Phoenix in fear for Bradley’s life. 

But as smooth as things had been, they were headed towards the tipping point. Both you and Bradley could feel it, but you did your best to ignore it. . . or brace for the storm. 

Bradley had woken up feeling off. He had the day off, which was an unusual occurrence, but he still went about his day as normal. Waking up at 5:30 AM and rolling out of bed to start making coffee, before waking you up at 5:45 on the dot. He showered with you, like normal, making sure to wash your hair thoroughly. He laid out your khakis and packed your flight suit in your duffle bag while you did your hair. Bradley then made his way downstairs to start making breakfast. Normally, you trudged down the stairs, sleep still in your eyes, but today, you came running down, a bright smile on your face. 

“Good morning, love,” You said in a sing-song voice. You kissed Bradley’s cheek as you reached for the coffee

“Morning, honey,” Bradley answered back, “What’s got you so happy at 6:30 in the morning?”

“I can’t be happy this early in the morning?” You smiled, “I gotta run, I got a really busy day today,” You said, grabbing the bagel and coffee Bradley had prepared for you, “I’ll see you later, okay?”

Bradley nodded and kissed you goodbye as you ran out the door, shouting an “I love you” over your shoulder. Bradley sighed, running a hand down his face. He closed his eyes, trying to think through his usual “Day Off” tasks, but for some reason, he couldn’t keep a coherent train of thought. Everything thing he thought of was cut off by numbers. He clenched his jaw and downed the rest of his coffee, before heading upstairs to his home office. 

“One, two, three, four,” Bradley counted as he walked. His heartbeat picked up as he shook his head, trying to stop the counting in his head. 

Bradley wasn’t sure how long he had been staring at his computer screen. He wanted to smash it to pieces as his brain just kept counting to ten over and over as he tried to work on flight plans. It had taken you over two hours to write a half-assed 2-paragraph email to Admiral Simpson, apologizing for not getting the plans in on time. Bradley closed his laptop and walked down the hall to the empty bedroom, that you had dubbed the meditation room. It was the one room in the house that didn’t have a single thing in it. It was a completely bare room, that was supposed to be a place where Bradley could just sit in silence and gather his thoughts. 

Tears started to roll down Bradley’s cheeks as he lay down on the hardwood floor, staring up at the ceiling. You had taken the ceiling fan out a couple of weeks ago after Bradley told you the blades weren’t helping him. Even stationary, Bradley’s mind conjured up the image of them spinning around and he felt like he had to count the rotations. Bradley closed his eyes, trying to regain control over his breathing, as he felt his heart trying to break out of his chest. He turned on his side, bringing his knees up to his chest, burying his head, and holding his hands over his ears. 

“Go away. . . Go away!” Bradley yelled. His body was beginning to feel weak. His muscles felt like stone as he lay on the floor, silently counting to himself, “One, two, three, four. . .”

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

You had probably checked your watch for the 10 thousandth time that hour. You turned in your seat to look around the hangar. The dagger squad, Admiral Simpson, and Admiral Bates were all waiting for the promotion ceremony to start. Phoenix had even gone as far as to call your parents via Facetime. You kept pushing back as much as you could, saying that Bradley was probably just running late, but everyone knew that Bradley Bradshaw didn’t run late. He was painfully on-time for everything.

“Cane,” Hangman said, a sad look on his face, “Admiral Simpson is getting grumpy. He’s not coming.”

You looked over to where Admiral Simpson was, checking his watch and huffing out a breath. You looked down at the shiny gold pins in your hand. You held your hand out towards Jake, silently asking him to take them. And he did, giving you a sad smile. 

“Bob is gonna take a video,” Hangman said, “And you know how Fanboy is with pictures.”

You bit your lip and shook your head, “I texted him this morning. I don’t. . . He wouldn’t have forgotten something like this.” 

“I can go have Mav try and call-”

“Don’t,” You said, taking a deep breath, “It’s fine. Let’s get this done.”

You didn’t ever show his emotions, usually being the calm one of the group, but Jake could see the complete hurt on your face. You walked to the back of the hangar where Maverick and Admiral Simpson stood. Both men looked at you and all you could do was nod, terrified if you opened your mouth you would start crying. Admiral Bates called the hangar to attention as the three of you walked in formation to the front of the hangar. Jake stood off to the side, giving you a thumbs-up and a smile. 

“Take seats,” Admiral Bates said to the aviators, “Welcome friends, family, and aviators to the promotion of Lieutenant Commander Y/N Hurricane L/N to Captain of VFA 334 Daggers. This is history in the making as the first female Captain of the Daggers.” 

You didn’t stick around long after the promotion ceremony ended. Hangman had convinced you to stick around for a piece of cake, but you only ate half of it, not feeling well enough to eat the sugary treat. You said goodbye to everyone and went straight home. You had called Bradley as soon as you got into your car, but it went straight to voicemail, again. Worry filled your body as you drove home. But the moment you arrived in the driveway, the worry faded into anger. You slammed your car door and marched into the house. The sound of Elton John’s “Philidelphia Freedom” was blaring through the speakers as Rooster stood over the stove. You slammed your keys down on the island, startling him from his cooking trance. 

“Oh! Hey! Your home!” Bradley said, putting on a fake smile.

“What the hell is all this?” You asked, looking around at the various ingredients all over the kitchen.

“I- uh, I wanted to try something?” Bradley said nervously.

“You wanted to try something? You wanted to- is this what was so fucking important that you turned your phone off?”

He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and noticed that he had turned it off at some point, probably when he went into the meditation room, “I’m sorry I just-“

“You missed it,”

“Missed what?”

You let out a short breath, “Forget it, just like you forget everything else. I knew you were upset that I put a packet in but I didn’t know it would be like this. Here, find a place for this to go,” You set down your promotion award on the counter in front of you and stormed out of the kitchen. 

Bradley felt like someone had cut off his air supply as he looked at the words printed on the award. His frantic eyes looked over at the fridge, where a calendar hung, and in his meticulous handwriting read: “Y/N Promotion!!!” 

“Oh my god,” Bradley cried, crumbling down to the floor. He pulled his knees up to his chest, letting the tears and short breaths escape his mouth. You had worked hard to get this promotion, beating out not only him and Hangman, but other aviators who had applied for it. You would never admit it, but it meant everything to you to even be considered for the spot. . . that was something indescribable. How the hell could Bradley forget something so important? How could Bradley just completely ignore it too? When he turned his phone on, he was bombarded with texts and missed call notifications. Everyone had texted him, from Natasha and Hangman to Maverick.

‘Hangman: where are you?’

‘Dude, Y/N keeps trying to stall. Where are you?’

‘Are you okay?’

‘We’re starting to get worried. . .’

‘I swear to god if you’re sleeping. . .’

‘You missed the promotion. Y/N is on his way home. . . she’s devastated’

Tears clogged his vision at the last text. Bradley’s heart felt like it shattered reading the world ‘devastated’. Bradley had tried to always be there for you. He knew that it was hard to be a female in the aviator world. He had heard the gossip about you and his relationship, and he never wanted you to feel like you had to hold yourself back from being the best that you could be. And the one time that you needed him the most, Bradley hadn’t shown up. Bradley didn’t even know what to do, so he just sat on the kitchen floor and cried.

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

The second you were in the comfort of your bedroom, you shed off your khakis. The material felt stiffer than normal against your skin. Your hair felt tighter too, and a headache began to form. You tossed your shirt into the hamper, leaving you just in your white tank top and pants. Your mind was running a mile a minute as you walked to the bathroom. 

You weren’t sure what to think. You were heartbroken and angry. You knew that Rooster was eyeing the captain spot. Hell, even as you filled out the packet, you were wondering if you were doing the right thing. Rooster not only had years to your senior, but he had more experience and more awards. But Rooster had been your biggest cheerleader the whole time. He had been so proud of you when you had made it to the interview part, beating him and Hangman out. You thought it was genuine, but now you were second-guessing. 

You shook your head as you reached behind your head, starting to take out the pins that were holding your bun together. It was then that you noticed that on Rooster’s side of the sink, everything was slightly out of order. His toothbrush was lying next to the sink and not in the usual holder. He didn’t put the cap back on his cologne. Your eyebrows furrowed as you stepped back into the bathroom and noticed that the bad wasn’t made and that his clothes from last night were strewn across the floor. 

Realization hit you like a freight train as you ran down the stairs. You should’ve noticed it this morning when Bradley was wearing mismatched socks, or this afternoon when he answered back with a one-word text, or when you came home to the kitchen in complete disarray. You quickly made your way downstairs,  to find Bradley now scrubbing the kitchen floors. All the cooking stuff was put away, and everything was tidied up again.

“B. . .” You whispered.

“One, two, three, four. . ..”

“B, it’s late,” You said trying to reason with him, “Come on, we can clean the kitchen tomorrow.”

“Five, six, seven. . .” 

“Bradley,” You knelt down on the floor in front of him. 

“Eight, nine. . .” 

“Bradley,” You grabbed his face in your hands. Your heart broke at the sight of his bloodshot eyes and pink cheeks. 

“Ten. One, two, three-” You cut him off by hugging him tightly. You brought his head to your chest, and he closed his eyes tightly, still counting softly, “Four, five, six. . .” 

“It’s okay,” You shush him. You felt his body tremble as numbers mixed with sobs escaped his mouth until the crying completely took over. 

“I can’t stop,” Bradley cried, “I can’t stop counting. I’m so sorry.”

You rubbed his back, and placed a kiss on the top of his head, “It’s okay, Bradley. It’ll be okay.” 

“It’s not okay,” Bradley shook his head. You pulled back from him, holding his face in your hands again. You wiped away the falling tears with your thumb, as he grasped your wrists, running his thumb over the pulse point. 

“You’re right, it’s not okay. You forgot something important, and it hurts,” You said, “But you also hid the fact that you are struggling right now. I told you from day one, to never hide how you’re feeling from me. If I had known, I would’ve come home. I guess I was more worried that something was wrong than angry at you for not being there.”

“Please, please forgive me?” Bradley asked through his tears.

“I forgive you, I’ll always forgive you,”

taglist: @els-marvelvsp @topgun-imagines @sarahsmi13s @xoxabs88xox @cassiemitchell @seitmai @a-reader-and-a-writer @bradleybeachbabe @kmc1989 @senawashere @beautifulandvoid @ohtobeleah @oatmealisweird @dempy @devil-angel-winchester @gillybear17 @cornylovers

[andreafmn]

12 Days of Ficmas ❅ Day 1

Word Count: 4.8K Paring:  Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader Prompt @alloftheprompts: Character A and Character B broke up but now they meet at a Christmas party.

Summary: In unpredictable Beacon Hills, Stiles and (Y/N) being together was one of the only things that made sense. But sometimes the smallest of changes can create the biggest of chaos. And a simple college admission letter can do just that. Maybe all it takes is the right Christmas gift to make things better.

A/N: yup, that's right, I'm doing 12 Days of Ficmas again (even if I haven't finished Kinktober 🫣🫣 but I am nothing if not a masochist (and a slight procrastinator) But enjoy!! This story actually made me tear up, honestly. But it wouldn't be one of my stories if there wasn't an insane amount of angst 😅 Also, disclaimer, I have not seen the last two seasons of Teen Wolf or the movie so, sorry for any inconsistencies.

Next ->

“Let’s just get this over with,” (Y/N) sighed as she fixed the Santa hat on top of her head. “They don’t have to know yet.”

“Yeah,” Stiles grimaced. “It’s better to wait until after the holidays, I guess.”

It was the first time Stiles and (Y/N) had ever been terrified to enter Scott’s house and face all of their friends. Even worse, they had to pretend everything was fine between them. 

Since they were little, the pair had been inseparable. Being next-door neighbors allowed them to grow close at a rapid pace. It was in her that he found solace on the nights his mother’s illness would take the best of her mind. He would run over to her house and climb the lattice that ran all the way up to her room. 

And she wouldn’t ask questions. (Y/N) would simply let him in through her window and distract him until he eventually drifted off to sleep. She did not need any explanations or reasons to comfort Stiles. She simply knew he needed her, and so she was there for him. Because if there was anything she knew of, it was the pain of slowly losing a parent.

They shared a bond that no one could break. Even as Scott entered their duo and they became the perfect trio, Stiles and (Y/N) shared a connection like no other. So, it came as no surprise to anyone when they got together. Even after Stiles had continuously professed his love for Lydia. Even after (Y/N) and Boyd had a quick fling. Everyone knew that it would be the two of them at the end of the day. 

What no one expected was that one day, they wouldn’t be Stiles and (Y/N) anymore. Hell, not even they had seen it coming. 

Their downfall had begun the second week of December. For some reason, the couple had not spoken about what happened after high school. In their senior year, they were focusing on the present, leaving the future where it was. Because what they didn’t know couldn’t hurt them. 

(Y/N) had applied under early action to various colleges, thinking nothing of it. But there was one college that had been her dream since her father had passed, and that was her only early decision application. She had worked every day since to make sure she was at least close to being accepted. But it was never a sure thing. 

She had promised herself to put it in the back of her mind. Stressing over that envelope would only drive her into madness. As much as she wanted it to be true, she knew the reality of the situation. The chances she could ever get in, much less with a full ride, were slim to none. And hoping only made things worse.

Still, that hadn’t stopped her from applying; it hadn’t stopped her from wishing. 

“Honey,” her mother had said one afternoon after she got home from school. “Look what came in the mail.” 

In her hands, there was a white manila envelope with blue lettering that clearly read: University of Oxford. 

(Y/N) could have sworn she could feel her heart in her throat, beating at an unnatural pace and threatening to leap out of her body. She crossed the distance between her front door to the kitchen faster than she had ever done before, needing to feel the paper in her hands. Only seeing it was not proof enough that it was real. 

“I don’t think I can open it,” the girl worried. “What if it’s bad, mom?”

“You won’t know unless you see, my darling,” she smiled softly. “But no matter what, you will still be the most impressive young lady I have known. And any college would be lucky to have you.”

With trembling hands, she broke open the envelope and pulled out a beautiful and crisp piece of white paper. “Dear (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” she read before taking a steadying breath. “It is with greatest pleasure that we inform you that the Admissions Comittee has decided to offer you admission to Oxford University through our binding Early Decision (ED) option on a full scholarship.”

As (Y/N) read those words, tears spilled from her eyes, and the papers fell from her hands. Her mother wrapped her arms tightly around her, showering her with words of love and encouragement. It had been everything she had worked for. Something not even the supernaturals of the world could take from her. 

“You’re going to Oxford, baby girl,” her mother cooed. “I knew you could. Your dad would have been just as proud as I am.” 

That moment should have been the happiest in her life so far. But there was a dark cloud that lingered over her as she celebrated. She had not told anyone she was applying to a college so far away, much less the reason she would be doing so. Mostly because she was terrified she wouldn’t get in. But part of her knew it was because she was leaving all her friends behind, leaving Stiles behind. And that was the hardest part. 

For the rest of the week, as she celebrated internally, she hid the biggest news of her life from all of her friends and the boy she had deemed the love of her life. Anyone would have thought she was the one harboring a secret supernatural life with the way she was guarding her secret. And, maybe it shouldn’t have been something she kept to herself. Maybe they would have all been excited for her and understood the reason for the distance. But something deep in her stopped her every single time. 

If her friends had noticed there was anything different from her demeanor, they didn’t say a thing. In the midst of final exams and the Christmas holidays soon approaching, everyone seemed to be stuck in their own heads. So, if they were in their heads, they couldn’t know there was something happening in hers.  

But that Friday night, at the same hour Stiles would always sneak in, (Y/N) knew there was no way she could continue to hide her secret any longer. 

“Come on,” he chuckled as he jumped onto her bed, holding his arms open. “Tell me what’s going on with you.” 

“What do you mean?” she said, forcing a smile. “Why do you say that?”

“You know you can’t lie to me. I may not have super hearing, but I can tell, (Y/N).” 

“Yeah,” she chuckled softly. “You know me too well.” 

“Of course I do,” he smiled as he crossed the distance between them and caressed the softness of her cheek. “Now, please, tell me what’s wrong?” 

That was it. That was the moment that had changed them, the moment that had broken them. 

(Y/N) took a steadying breath and took his hands in hers, focusing on the veins on his hands rather than his worried eyes. “I got a letter last week,” she started with a sigh. “I told you about all the colleges I had applied to as early action.” 

“Of course, you bright mind, you,” he said. “Did you already start getting the acceptance letters?” 

“Uh, there’s another college I actually applied to. Early decision.”

“Like binding early decision?”

“Yeah, exactly,” she said, her voice trembling as she spoke. “I, uh, I applied to the University of Oxford. And I got in.”

Instead of embracing her, Stiles dropped her hands, taking a step away from her. “In England?” he asked as though he was offended. “Why would you wanna go that far?”

“It’s not about the distance,” she grimaced, finally meeting his hurt eyes. “It’s about what that school means. That’s where my dad went to school. That’s the place my parents met. That was the school that started my entire life, Stiles.” 

“So, why didn’t you tell me about it? If it was so damn important, why did you never mention it?” Stiles seethed, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “You wanna start a new life, is that it? Follow in your parents’ footsteps and meet the love of your life there? Great, (Y/N). And you made sure you did it in a way you couldn’t back out.”

“Stiles, that’s not…”

“So, what? Were you gonna wait until graduation to tell me that you were moving halfway across the world to get away from us? From me?” the boy cried. “Or were you simply going to disappear and start a new life without telling anyone? But I guess that’s your thing now, huh? Keeping big shit like this until you can’t anymore.”

“That’s not fair, Stiles,” she frowned, hugging her arms tightly across her torso. “I didn’t want to get my hopes up, so I didn’t say anything. That doesn’t mean that I would have never told you about it. I’m not looking to escape. I’m looking to start my future.” 

“And it looks like you were starting it without me then,” he croaked. “What does that mean for us, (Y/N)? We ride it out until graduation, and then you leave for the rest of your life?” 

“I don’t… you wanna b-break up?” 

“It’s inevitable now, isn’t it?” Stiles said in a tone that broke her more than the words he was speaking. “You’re gonna be in England, and I’m gonna be god knows where. It’s better just to do it now.” 

That night was nothing like she had imagined it would be. She had hoped Stiles would have been excited for her and promised her everything would be alright. That somehow he would have the answers to how they could withstand so much distance because they had to make it. Out of everyone in their friend group, those two had to make it. 

Instead, it had taken a turn for the worse. One second, Stiles was standing before her with a smile on his face, and the next, he was leaving through her window with tears streaming down his face. What she had most been dreading was that scenario to play out, and a week before their friend’s holiday party, it had. They had gone through life-threatening and mind-boggling situations, but it was a college acceptance letter that broke them apart. 

The coming days (Y/N) spent buried in bed. Although she should have been celebrating one of her biggest achievements –other than saving lives and defeating many, many creatures– she had wasted more tears during that time than she had done the past years of her life. She was distraught and defeated, and she had no idea how she would make it through the last semester of high school, much less how she would have made it through a Christmas party. 

Somehow, they had arrived at Scott’s house at the same time, even after she had made sure she left twenty minutes after Stiles. The universe liked to play its mean tricks, but that one was almost unforgivable. 

“Let’s just try to stay out of each other’s way,” he grimaced. “The less we are near each other, the harder it’ll be for them to find out.” 

“Harder to find out what?” Scott asked as he swung the front door open, his signature goofy grin stretched across his mouth. Instinctively, Stiles draped his arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders and smiled brightly. “Ooh, did you bring your brownies, (Y/N)?” 

“Yeah,” she smiled. “Still warm from the oven.” 

“Wouldn’t be a party without them,” Stiles commented. “Now, let us in. It’s kinda cold out tonight.” 

The second they were inside, Stiles broke for the living room while (Y/N) moved to the kitchen with Scott. She set the tray on the overfilled kitchen island, noticing to the side that the dinner table was perfectly set up. “Oh, the table looks nice,” she commented. “But I thought we’d be doing something more low-key.” 

“Yeah,” he chuckled awkwardly. “Lydia thought it’d be fun to do a more grown-up dinner party.” 

“Yeah. Place settings and everything.” 

“We were waiting for you guys to start eating,” he said. “We’re doing gifts after.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” 

Slowly, the rest of the group trickled into the kitchen, greeting and hugging (Y/N) as they looked over all the food and served themselves their plates. And, of course, her seat was right next to Stiles’. Even if she had wanted to sit anywhere else, the rest had already taken their assigned seats, and the only open spot was the one that had her name. 

She gave her ex-boyfriend a small smile, looking anywhere but into the brown of his eyes. Her heart beat against her chest, threatening to jump out of her body. It made her fidgety as everyone ate, thinking any of the wereanimals around her would be able to tell how she was feeling. 

But Scott was laughing with Stiles, Malia was talking to Lydia, and Hayden, Liam, and Mason had their own conversation running. (Y/N) was all by herself. She was surrounded by all the people she loved, but it was the loneliest she had felt in a long time. Without the usual comforting words from Stiles, she couldn’t help but feel so out of place. It was the happiest time of the year, but the girl was miserable, and it hurt that it didn’t seem like the boy she loved was sad as well. 

“Alright,” Lydia spoke up as everyone ignored their mostly empty plates. “Now that our bellies are full, I think it’s time for Secret Santa! And I truly hope you all kept it a secret this time.” 

“Not that it’d matter anyway,” Liam chuckled. “We all know we ask for help every time.” 

“Anyways,” she said, ignoring the soft laughter that erupted from the group. “Let’s go to the living room, and (Y/N) you’ll go first.”

“Oh, uh, sure,” she smiled as she followed the group into the living room. She crouched under the decorated Christmas tree, pulling out the gift that had been there for almost two weeks. “I got Lydia.” 

“How wonderful!” the redhead mused, quick to hug her friend and rip away the wrapping paper. Inside the gift box was a mosaic picture of Lydia, Allison, and (Y/N), the first time they had finally considered each other friends. “Oh, it’s beautiful! I wish I could take it with me everywhere.” 

“It was hard to get it just right, but I loved how it turned out.” 

“It’s perfect, (Y/N),” she beamed. “Thank you.” 

“Of course. I love you, Lids.” 

“Love you too,” the girl said as she wrapped her friend in a tighter hug. “My turn!”

Lydia had gifted Liam nine books out of his TBR list —nine because of his lacrosse number. Then, Liam gifted Scott a new leather jacket so he could “actually look cool when riding his motorcycle,” Liam snickered. Scott then gifted Malia a light blue hoodie to add to her ever-growing collection, while Malia gifted Hayden a journal and pen set, saying it was for when her mind felt too busy. After a warm smile and a hug, she announced her gift was for Mason, laughing as he pulled out an ugly cat sweater. Once the loud laughter subsided, Mason gifted Stiles a massage mat for his Jeep. 

“For when you’re taking really long drives,” the boy smiled, clearly proud of himself. “There’s quite some distance between here and D.C. It’ll come in handy.” 

“Yeah,” he chuckled as he hugged Mason. “Thanks, man. It’s great.” 

“Don’t mention it.”

As Mason sat back down, Stiles cleared his throat as he pulled the last gift. Everyone knew by then who it was for. There was no one else left. “Well, I guess you all know who this is for,” he said. “I hope you like it, (Y/N).” 

The girl received the bag with a soft smile, trying her best to swallow the tears that were threatening to spill. She had forgotten for a second how cruel the universe could be. She pulled out the white tissue paper first before finding a beautiful brown bear dressed in a blue knit sweater. Around its neck, there was a necklace with something she could only assume was a soundwave. With curiosity washing over her, she looked to Stiles for an explanation. 

“Uh, so, it’ll make a lot more sense if you press the bear’s hand,” he stammered. Once she died as told, the sound broke her. From deep in the belly of the teddy bear, her father’s voice rang out, singing the words of “You Are My Sunshine.” There was not a single night when she was little that her father didn’t sing that to her, and even as she grew old for the lullaby, he would call her sunshine. “I got a recording from your mom of your dad singing the song when you were a baby,” Stiles spoke over the music. “And the necklace is the image of the soundwave of your dad calling you sunshine.” 

Tears had long since fallen down her cheeks, clutching the bear in her arms as though it was her own father. With her eyes closed, it was almost as though he was right there, singing to her. But it was what came after the song that shattered her. “You’re gonna do great things, (Y/N),” her father said through the bear. “I love you forever, my little sunshine.” 

At that moment, all she wanted to do was hug Stiles and kiss him like she had done a million times before. That was the boy she had fallen in love with. The one that cared and listened. The one that had made her heart race and her stomach turn into butterflies. She wanted to tell him she loved him and never let him go, but she couldn’t. Just like she could never do with her father. 

“I, uh,” she said as she stood from the couch, feeling as though she would faint in the crowded room. “I need some air.” 

(Y/N) stammered her way out of the living room and through the front door, only allowing herself to break down when she was at the end of the driveway. She fell to her knees and hugged the bear to her chest as she cried, letting the hurt that had accumulated over the years spill onto the pavement. In less than six months, she was going to walk into a new life halfway across the globe without the support of her father and now, without the support of Stiles. All alone. 

She should have been celebrating. She knew that. She should have been crying tears of joy and jumping into her love’s arms. Instead, it was the bear’s arms that she could feel. The softness of its fur, the sound of her father’s voice. 

Without even realizing it, she had begun singing along to the lullaby, sniffling between words as the tears didn’t relent. “You’re gonna do great things, (Y/N),” her father said once more through the bear. “I love you forever, my little sunshine.” 

“I love you too, dad,” she cried. 

“Hey,” his voice startled her. Through teary eyes, she looked up to find Stiles draping a jacket over her shoulders. He slid to the ground next to her, facing the house before them as she was now. “I’m sorry. I bought the gift weeks ago, and I wasn’t sure if I was still allowed to give it to you.” 

“No, it was… i-it was perfect,” she stammered, running her hand over the bear’s fur. “It’s just everything rushed over me. Like the breakup, the fact that I won’t be here next year, the fact that my dad won’t even see me gradua…”

Another string of sobs ransacked (Y/N)’s body, but that time it wasn’t the bear she was hugging. Stiles had wrapped his arms around her, pressing her into his chest. She could smell his cologne and feel his warmth, a feeling she had missed for the past seven days. All she wanted was to melt into his touch and profess to him all that she felt. But she couldn’t. Not anymore. Because he didn’t want it. 

“I didn’t want things to be this way,” she cried into his chest. “I didn’t want everything to fall apart.” 

Stiles remained quiet as she cried, a hard feat for someone like him. But he let her cry and cry until only quiet sniffles filled the air. Because he hadn’t wanted things to be that way either. 

He knew he had overreacted. When he had told (Y/N) his plans of enrolling in George Washington University all the way across the county, she had told him they could make it work. Especially if she got into any of the ivy leagues she had applied to on the East Coast. It had been fine. Hell, it had been perfect. 

But when she told him that she wouldn’t just be a couple of states away but that she would be on another continent, he couldn’t help but let his abandonment issues take control. 

He knew she was brilliant. He knew she deserved to do and be all that she had dreamed. But he feared that once she achieved all of her goals, he would just not fit into her life anymore. 

“You’re gonna go on to do great things, (Y/N),” he sighed sadly as her tears stopped. “You’re gonna go to Oxford, just like your parents, and you’re gonna probably graduate at the top of your class on your way. And I’ll be here —well, in Washington, technically—cheering you on.”

“But why couldn’t we be great together, Stiles? We couldn’t we both go on to do great things, together?”

“Come on, (Y/N). Once you’re there, you’re gonna meet so many people, and you’ll have guys falling on their knees for you,” he chuckled dryly. “I won’t fit into your new world. I mean, you said it yourself: that’s where your parents met and your life began. And now, maybe you’ll have a new beginning. And years from today, we’ll run into each other, and you’ll tell me about your job and your husband and your kids, and I’ll be so happy for you. Because you serve all the love and happiness in the world, even if it’s without me.”

“Have you even asked yourself if that’s what I want?” (Y/N) asked as she left his warm embrace, her red eyes boring into his. “I’m not leaving because I’m searching for a new life. I want to go to Oxford because it’s one of the last things I can share with my dad. I can walk down the same halls he did, I can take classes in the same classrooms, and eat at the same places he did. But I was always going to come back, Stiles. Because my friends are here, my mom is here, because you are here. I don’t want to run into you and talk about another man or the kids I would have with him. I don’t want to run into you at all. I want to walk beside you, Stiles. If I ever have kids, it’s only if they’re a part of you too,” she cried, fresh tears falling down her already-stained cheeks. “If you don’t love me anymore, then fine. I can understand that, and I can walk away. But don’t you dare say that you wouldn’t fit into my life because you’ve been there longer than anyone I know, and I need you to be there until the end. Because I already lost someone important to me and I can’t lose you too. Not you.” 

“(Y/N), I don’t want to lose you either,” he sobbed. “But how can we fight with the distance? How could we ever withstand the fact that we’ll be an ocean away?”

“We have gone through worse battles than a plane ride, Stiles. We have been on the brink of death more times this past year than any person would in their lifetime. Do you really think being in a different time zone is the limit to our relationship? I know the future isn’t promised but you were the one person I always knew would be there.”

“I’m scared, okay?! I’m scared that you’ll meet someone better than me, (Y/N). I’m terrified that you’ll realize that maybe I’m not the guy that can give you your happy ever after,” he finally confessed. His voice croaked, and his chest heaved as the words fell out of his mouth faster than he could ever stop them. “This week has been torture without you. But it’s made me realize that Beacon Hills has always been too small for you. After May, you’re gonna go out there and find your place. And this town will be nothing but a memory you’ll come back to.”

“There is no one better for me than you, Stiles, and Beacon Hills will always be my home,” she replied softly. Her cold hand found his cheek, and she wiped away his tears with her thumb. “I don’t want to know a life where you’re not there. You can’t give up on us without even trying, Stiles. You just can’t.” 

Without thinking twice, (Y/N) crashed her lips onto his, sinking into the warmth of his mouth. After a week, kissing him felt like the very first time. It was desperate and filled with need —the need for closeness and passion, the need for love. Instinctively, Stiles’ hands found her waist and pulled her closer to him, wondering how he ever thought he could live without her touch. 

“I love you, Stiles, and I don’t even want to think about ever having to love someone else,” she whispered as she parted from him. “My heart belongs to you. And if this is the end, it’ll still remain in your hands.” 

“I couldn’t love anyone else like I love you, (Y/N),” he replied with a soft smile. “But I just can’t help the thoughts that flood my brain sometimes.” 

“Then don’t listen to them and listen to me when I say that since the moment I met you, I’ve known you were it for me. There is no other man waiting for me in Oxford. It’s you, and it will always be you,” (Y/N) said before kissing him softly once more. “You’re the best thing that has happened to me, Stiles Stilinski, and you’re the only thing that I want to keep happening to me.”

“I can’t believe I ever broke up with you. Especially during Christmas,” Stiles chuckled as he rested his forehead against hers, flicking the tip of her nose with his own. “It was honestly the worst week of my life.” 

“Including being possessed?” Scott’s voice startled them as he came into view. “Although, I get it because this was completely avoidable.”

(Y/N) chuckled as she took Scott’s extended hand and got on her feet, wiping away any tears that still remained. “Did you hear that whole thing?”

“More or less,” he chuckled. “It’s a bit hard not to when I was coming to see if you guys were okay.” 

“We’re good now, Scotty,” Stiles grinned. “Just had some unresolved feelings to work, though.” 

“Can you not mention the whole thing about the breakup? I don’t wanna make it a whole thing.”

“That’s a bit hard, (Y/N),” Malia called from the open front door. “We all kind of already know.”

“Oh, cool, great,” she said as she hid in Stile’s embrace. “That’s not embarrassing at all.”

“Eh, at least our parents are back together,” Liam commented. “Best Christmas present.” 

“It really is, huh?” Stiles whispered as he kissed the top of her head. 

“Yes. Very cute and adorable,” Lydia added in a desperate tone. “Now, can we go back inside before Hayden and Mason finish all the brownies?”

As the group walked back into the house, Stiles and (Y/N) shared one more moment together on the front porch. “Hey, look up,” Stiles said with a smile. “Mistletoe.”

“Funny that they’d hang that at a werewolf's home,” she chuckled. “Although, I’m pretty sure that one’s plastic.”

“And I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to kiss me.”

“Maybe I’m waiting for another guy to kiss under the plant.” Stiles frowned at her words, and all she could do was laugh. “Too soon?”

“Much,” he said. “Now, come here.”

He snaked his hands on either side of her face and kissed her passionately. He kissed her for every day they had spent apart. He kissed her for every hurtful word he had spewed. He kissed her as a promise of his love for her. Stiles kissed her like she was his future. 

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[love-and-monsters]

The Ship and the Alien

5,486 words, GN reader X M alien.

Humanity sends the last of their species in hibernation pods to the stars. When you wake up an unknown amount of time later, you are on a different ship. Surrounded by aliens.

Content warnings: mentions of death and discussions of medical procedures and illness.

The Ship never had a name. People tried to give it one quite a lot. There was a naming contest first, which was a bad idea. You’d think the bigwigs would learn not to give this kind of power to the internet, but it never seems to occur to them until the two top names are ‘SaveyMcSaviorface’ and ‘The Biggest Dick Ever’ and they have to scrap the whole thing. ‘Eden’ was an idea they tossed around, but there were people who said it wasn’t inclusive of other religions and a bunch of Christians who didn’t believe in the concept at all who were pissed about the connotations of the name, so that didn’t work. ‘Destiny’ was another idea, as were ‘Eternal’ and ‘Onward.’ In the end, by the time anyone had even started to come to a conclusion on the name, everyone had started getting used to calling it ‘The Ship’ and no one was willing to change that for whatever sappy shit they engraved on the side.

Maybe they did eventually name it. I don’t know. I don’t know if it mattered, really. Anybody aboard The Ship wasn’t going to be calling it anything on account of being in stasis, and anybody outside The Ship wasn’t going to be calling it anything on account of being dead very soon. So. The Ship was a fine name to me.

The Ship was not actually one ship, at the time- it was technically seven ships, six stationed on different continents and one stationed at the north pole. They were designed to all lock together in one massive structure, but to be able to function independently, in case of a system failure. There were redundancies, ways to transfer assets between different ships if necessary, and about a billion other things that I never understood, but were probably very important for a metal tube hurtling through space. In all honesty, I didn’t pay much attention to its construction. Crushing despair combined with a vicious fight for survival every day takes precedence, you know.

You don’t know how you ended up on The Ship. You know the basics- engineers, designers, and construction workers all got immediate entry. That took up a few thousand slots. Then were the ‘important people,’ the sorts you would want if you were setting up a colony. Doctors, agriculturalists, building designers, all the big thinkers who can make sure that things run smoothly and work like they’re supposed to. Quite a few military members as well. After that, there was some debate as to who else could come on. Limited number of slots, after all. You heard a lot of very right people tried to pay their way on the ship, but it didn’t work so well. Money’s useless to anyone on the ship, and will be useless to anyone left on Earth. Some people traded favors and influence to secure their spots, but a decent chunk of people couldn’t do that and had to subject themselves to the same system as everyone else.

The way they picked candidates for the civilian slots on the ship was the same way anyone picks anything they want to be at least somewhat random: they made a computer do it. All civilians who put their names in a hat, basically, and the computer system drew them. No one could accuse it of cheating, because it was a computer. Well, people could, and they did, but the idea was that at least less people would accuse it of being impartial than if a human picked.

You were one of the picks. Placed into section 3, chamber 2, pod 3247. You didn’t tell anyone- you’d been asked not to, out of fear of retaliation from those who hadn’t been picked. You just left the shelter you’d been living in and headed to the launch site.

There was a brief physical, involving being stripped, shoved onto and into a ton of machinery, drinking some kind of gross shit that purged your body of what felt like everything you’d ever eaten, getting your head shaved, and an IV port implanted into your arm. You saw other people on occasion, going through the same thing before they were whisked away again. There were no opportunities to talk. Everything was brutally efficient.

You were allowed to sleep for a few hours on a hospital-style cot. You ended up just lying there and staring up at the ceiling. There were other people there, also trying to sleep and failing, but nobody talked. Everyone just waited.

In the morning, you were all herded into the body of the ship. It was massive, bigger than any building you’d ever been in, and still quite cramped when you walked into it. The room was cylindrical, with pods lining the whole thing. The walls rotated, allowing the pods to be lowered to the ground, people to be strapped in and put to sleep, then rotated up to the ceiling, ferris-wheel-style.

You were toward the back, so you got a good view of the people in front of you being placed into the pods, injected with the combination of fluids that would knock them out, hooked into the machinery, and then sent into ‘hibernation mode.’ On your turn, you were pushed into the pod, the fluid-filled bags that supported your body adjusting automatically. The fluid was administered through your IV port and the chill of it made your eyelids droop almost immediately. Your eyelids drooped. The world grew colder and colder as the pod lid closed round you and you were left in the pitch blackness of the pod. You couldn’t tell the difference between your eyes being closed and open, but you must have closed them at some point, because you did drift into the dreamless hibernation of spaceflight.

It wasn’t quite like falling asleep. It was more like closing your eyes for a couple seconds and suddenly everything felt like garbage. Your muscles cramped, your mouth was dry as a bone, your arm throbbed where the IV port had been attached, and your eyes couldn’t open. You coughed furiously as soon as you took your first breath.

The air that touched your skin was horribly cold, but your body couldn’t shiver. Despite having basically nothing in your stomach, your body kept trying to retch. Your limbs were locked up, barely able to move from the slightly-uncomfortable position you’d been forced into in the pod.

Something touched your arm and you screamed. Or tried to- your lungs forced the air out with a sound more like a grating huff. The touch was warm, blazing against your bare skin, and even the texture of it was unbearable. Being without sensation for so long seemed to have magnified your senses a thousandfold.

It was hard to tell how much time had passed before moving became tolerable. You tried to open your eyes a few times, but even once you could physically do so, the room was too bright to look at. You flopped helplessly on your back, squeaking and complaining whenever you were touched.

As your brain grew used to processing sensory input once more, you got better at figuring out what was happening to you. You were lying in some sort of thick liquid, with your head supported so your face was free of it. The thing that kept touching you was alive, presumably, because it was moving. It felt like you were being gently massaged. Kind of the massage used to help encourage blood flow in a limb.

You tried your eyes again. They cracked open, just barely. The light wasn’t so bad this time. Not good, but not bad, either. It stung. You could see someone, probably a person, moving around you, although you could barely even make out the silhouette. It was mostly a blur.

The massage was nice. It was sort of a more pleasant awakening than you thought you’d have. They’d briefed you on the awakening procedures- the pods would gradually warm up so you woke up slowly before ejecting everyone all at once. No one should be awake to care for you.  Maybe something had gone wrong? But not so wrong that you’d died, so it couldn’t be something you needed to worry about too much.

You took your time to come back to yourself, slowly warming up to your body again. It still felt like you’d spent a week and a half completely sick with the flu, but you were otherwise not so bad.

The room was slowly drifting into focus around you. It was actually quite dim, you realized. There were a couple of pale blue lights set into the ceiling far above you providing illumination for the whole room, so everything was dark and shadowy. There was still the silhouette moving around you, but they were sort of dark and it was hard to make anything out about them.

The silhouette moved closer, still backlit too much to make out features. There was something slightly off about the shape of it, with the head and the shoulders or something, but maybe that was some weird eye effect of the hibernation. Hallucinations sometimes happened after hibernation, they’d said. Nothing to worry about.

And then the silhouette spoke. At least, you thought it was speaking. It wasn’t using words, though. It made a low, sort of thrumming noise with the occasional pop or creak. They weren’t quite noises a human could make, or at least, not without great effort.

You froze. That was… weird. More hallucinations, maybe? Had the hibernation fucked with your brain so bad you’d forgotten how words worked? That wasn’t good- maybe that’s why you were getting woken up separately?

Before you had a moment to ponder that any longer, there was a mechanical click and a voice, sort of neutral and male, said… something. You still couldn’t understand what it was saying, but there was some confirmation that it was, actually, saying something because you recognized the language: Chinese.

There was a pause. The mechanical click repeated, and then the voice spoke again, in English. “Are you conscious and able to respond? Please raise an arm if you can understand what I’m saying to you.”

You raised your arm automatically, though it was a struggle to lift it out of the thick substance you were submerged in. The thrumming and popping noise started up again, followed quickly by a mechanical click and a voice in English. It reminded you of when they dubbed over someone on the news while they were still talking. “Please remain calm. You suffered some injuries to your extremities, as well as hibernation sickness. We’re attempting to stabilize you, but you’re in a delicate condition.”

You tried to talk, but your mouth was so dry your tongue was trying to glue itself to the roof of your mouth. If the person was bothered by that, they didn’t show it. They moved closer to your head, walking alongside the tub you were resting in. Your eyes tracked them. They were moving weirdly. Were they hurt, maybe? Alarm bells kept going off in your head, the uncanny sense that something was wrong, but nothing in your conscious brain could put together what it was.

The person moved so they were in one of the brighter section of the room. You could see more than just their vague shape. Your heart stopped.

They were not a person.

That was why their shape was wrong. You could see their torso, from their head to nearly their waist, and it was human only in the vaguest of shapes. Sort of a vaguely oval head, with a sort of human-like face, except it was flatter, with pointed, almost horse-like ears. Their eyes were a little deeper-set and rounder. Their coloration reminded you of a Doberman, almost, with black across the top of their face and a paler color underneath. Their torso was longer and more slender than a human’s with narrower, more sloped shoulders and long arms that folded up close to their chest. They made a sort of humming or purring noise as they leaned over you.

You struggled to sit up or scramble away, but you couldn’t move much. You couldn’t even scream, just sort of moan helplessly. One of your legs managed to kick out sideways and connect with the side of the tank. It wasn’t much of a hit, but that, combined with you straining the rest of your pathetic muscles to get away from the thing next to you, meant that you partially slid off whatever was keeping your head supported and your face went under the water.

It was thicker than water, but not by too much, so your head slid under it with disconcerting slowness. It was then that you discovered another disadvantage of your weak muscles- the substance was just thick enough to make moving through it, even just enough to lift your head out of the water, impossible.

You thrashed, but not really, since you couldn’t move. There was only about two seconds of panic, though, before hands locked around you and pulled your head out back out. You sputtered as the hands placed your head back on the little platform.

“Stay still.” Something was beeping frantically in the background, and you could both hear and see the creature shifting around to check on some machines. “The fluid is warming you back to proper temperature. You need to remain still and calm to avoid going into shock.”

There was no way you were not going into shock. But you’d used up all your energy in your near-drowning, so you couldn’t do much but lie there. The creature seemed to relax.

“I understand that you’re frightened. I promise, I’m trying to help you.” When you didn’t move, just watched them, they relaxed further. “Remain still. I will conclude the treatment.”

They fussed around for a little while longer, checking on whatever monitors were giving readouts for your condition. You weren’t sure what indicated that your treatment was over, since you didn’t feel much better, but eventually, they pressed a button somewhere and the fluid drained out of the tub. It was cold after the fluid was gone, and you were completely nude and shivering, resting on some pads at the bottom of the tub. The creature, thankfully, offered you warm cloths that you could bury yourself underneath.

Before you could even properly enjoy the warmth, there was the sound of footsteps approaching. A lot of footsteps. Summoning all your strength, you heaved yourself up and looked over the edge of the tub.

There were more of them. Only three, not including your creature, which didn’t seem to match up with the amount of footsteps you’d heard. And then you looked down a little more and realized why.

They were centaurs.

Sort of- their limbs weren’t hooved, and they weren’t really like paws, either. A bit more like bird talons, if birds rested mostly on their fingertips. Talontips. Whatever. They walked with their torsos bent further forward than centaurs, too, and they had long tails. A couple of them had horns, pointing back off their heads. They were wearing clothes that were relatively close-fitting, like most spacesuits you’d seen.

The one in front, with the largest horns and a sort of fancy marker around its neck, stepped froward. “On behalf of the First Branch of the Agrenier, we would like to officially greet your species. And offer our condolences.” This one also had their words picked up by the machine and recited in a language you could understand, though the voice the machine used was different, a little more feminine. Maybe this one was a woman?

The blankets hadn’t really calmed your shivering, but you managed to speak in a semi-steady voice. “Condolences?”

She scuffed one of her forelimbs, her ears lowering to the sides of her head. “Your ship was found drifting, nearly without power. There was some sort of error with major mechanical functions in the ship, which caused serious damage to the inner workings. Upon investigation of the craft, we discovered several hibernation pods, the vast majority of which were damaged.” She paused, still tapping a forelimb against the ground. “Two contained living members of your species, but you were the only one to survive the initial reawakening process. You have our deepest condolences.”             You opened your mouth, but you couldn’t think of anything to say. Your brain struggled to process anything. Two pods with living people. Only one survived the reawakening. That was- that had to be you, right? You were- the only-

Dimly, you were aware of the robot speaking again. It seemed to be rapidly switching between two agitated voices. People were having an argument, maybe? You didn’t care. You buried yourself under the blankets and hid in the warm cocoon until everything was dark and floaty and your brain didn’t have any thoughts in it at all.

Someone tried to tug the blanket away. You weren’t sure how long it had been, but it was quieter and your limbs were stiff from being in the same position. You tried to keep the blanket over your body, but there was another firm tug and you lost your grip. Your muscles were pathetic. And, as embarrassing as it was, you couldn’t help but crying out when the blanket was taken away. It was the one thing you had in the world and you couldn’t even hold onto it.

“I’m sorry.” The other voice, the one from your centaur, came again from the robot. It did a very good job at adding emotion to the voices- it sounded anguished. “You’re overheating, I need to take it, but I’m sorry.” You curled up on the bottom of the tub, unmoving. The centaur patted your head. It was a small gesture, but you leaned into it. What else did you have?

The centaur patted your head a few more times before moving on. “I know you’re probably scared, but we’re not going to hurt you. I’m going to help you. Your hibernation pod was the least damaged of all of them, but it still had some minor malfunctions. It was hard to wake you up, and you’re not going to be all there for a little while.”

You racked your brains. It was easier to think about facts. When you’d gotten on the ship, there had been a big disclaimer about the dangers of hibernation pods. They were designed to keep a human in a state of suspended animation, with body functions slowed down to the bare minimum. The upper estimate was that it could keep a human asleep and alive for over half a million years. Not that anyone had ever tested them before you. But they were also risky- even minor malfunctions could lead to an early awakening, damage to the body, or the hibernation process just killing a person outright. Even when they’d gone over that part, though, no one had left. Why would they? Between a one hundred percent chance of death and a twenty percent chance, who would take the former?

So the malfunction had probably been in the sleep-wake system, the part that regulated how the machine knocked people out and woke them back up. It was supposed to run through a wakeup cycle on its own when the main computer signaled it was time, but if that system failed, it could be manually activated, and if the waking system failed entirely, there were ways to safely bring a person out of the hibernation without machine intervention. They were always riskier, though, and even if everything was done perfectly, it didn’t guarantee a successful revival.

That must have been what happened to the other person, the one in the other surviving pod. They’d tried to wake them up and…

Nope. Focus on facts. You took a deep breath. “What happened to the ship?”

“We boarded and searched it, and transferred the central computer system over to ours, as well as the supplies we could budget the space for,” the centaur said. “I’m afraid I don’t know any more specifics than that. I’m sorry.”

“How was it damaged? You said it was damaged.”

“An impact, I think?”

“That doesn’t make any sense. The ship was designed with rotator shields and plating and redundancies to keep everything secure. It was safe. It couldn’t be-” You paused. “How many people were on the ship?”

The centaur paused, then turned to one of the machines and tapped something in. “About 45,000 hibernation pods were recorded to be on the ship.”

That was too few for the main ship, but it had been designed with redundancies. If the impact had left a portion of the ship crippled, it was designed to eject the damaged portion and continue on without it.

Which meant your portion had been spit out and left to drift while the rest of the ship continued on toward its destination.

So everyone on the ship wasn’t dead. They were just continuing on to their destination. Without you.

That should make you feel better, right? That they weren’t dead? But you just felt very, very… lonely.

“I’m sorry about your fellow passengers,” the centaur said. He was leaning over the edge of the tub, sort of draped over it so he was resting his arm and his chin there. “For now, you should rest.” He glanced toward the door and his lips lifted into a bared-teeth expression. “Before our first officer comes back.”

He lifted your arm and slipped a tube into the shunt. It took only a few minutes before liquid sleep was coursing through your veins and you fell into a deep sleep.

The awakenings happened on a more or less regular schedule, at least from what you would tell. Often they would happen in that warm bath again, with your centaur rubbing your limbs to encourage bloodflow. Sometimes there was the other centaur there as well, the female one. You were pretty sure she and your centaur didn’t get along. The robot didn’t often translate for their conversations, but they had the tenor of arguments, and your centaur was always huffy and quiet after speaking with her. You ended up keeping time by the awakenings.

After two awakenings, your centaur gave you food. It was all prepackaged meal sludge, which was designed for people who had awoken from hibernation recently, and it made your stomach cramp, but you ate it. After four awakenings, the cramps stopped and you could move on to a combination of meal sludge and broth. Whenever you could, you engaged your centaur in conversation.

“How’d you know what medicines and foods to use?” you asked as he pulled the line administering some sort of medication out of your arm and closed the shunt.

“We transferred the existing data of your ship’s computer over to ours. I’m using your ship’s guide, translated into our own language, and improvising with our own equipment where yours was damaged- the hibernation pod you’ve been staying in is one of ours.”

“It seems too small to fit you,” you said. You weren’t a small person- you were actually pretty average- but the pod was only a bit too big for you to comfortably rest in. The centaurs were bigger than you by a pretty big margin, even your centaur, and he seemed to be the smallest one you’d seen so far.

“Oh, yes, that one’s for children.”

“You put children in hibernation?” You tried not to make the statement accusatory, but it came out like that anyway. There had been no children on The Ship, for multiple reasons. First was practicality- having a population that could breed and work right away upon making planetfall was paramount, and children wouldn’t be able to do either. The second was that no one knew how hibernation pods would affect children. Would it damage their bodies? Their ability to age properly? Hibernation had only been tested on adults- it was hard to convince people to put children in pods that might kill or cripple them, even when the same people had no issue with adults, especially prisoner populations.

Your centaur seemed unbothered. “For medical purposes. That’s what hibernation pods are used for. Slowing the spread of disease until the person can receive medical attention. It’s highly risky to use hibernation pods for long term space travel.” His ears flicked. “Though under your circumstances, I can’t say I can judge you.”

Ah. If they had the computer’s logs, they all knew what’s happening to Earth. What had probably already happened. The planet had a scant few years left by the time The Ship left, and if you’d traveled far enough to come across real aliens, then you’d been traveling for a while.

The centaur walked around the pod as the entire thing shifted from a horizontal position to a nearly vertical one. “I’m going to unlock the restraints,” he said. There was a faint click and the straps that were holding you in place retracted.

Your legs wobbled. It took all your strength to keep your body upright. It was a strain to stand, to walk, even to sit up sometimes. But your centaur insisted on making you move around.

“Hands in mine,” he said, extending his arms. You placed your hands in his and stepped out of the pod. He supported most of your weight with barely a tremble as you took a few shaky steps. His hands enveloped yours, though that was partially because of their strange shape. Unlike human hands, his were six-fingered and bilaterally symmetrical, with four ‘fingers’ and two ‘thumbs, both of which were positioned closer toward the wrist and pointed further backward than human thumbs. Despite their alien shape, holding his hands felt remarkably similar to just holding a human hand. It was a comfort.

Just as you were completing your second circuit of the room, your legs trembling like a baby deer’s, the door opened. Your centaur glanced up and his ears lowered instantly. The centaur that walked in was the first officer, the female that you’d seen when you’d first awoken.

“Officer,” your centaur said. The machine that translated everything was apparently quite accurate with tone, so you could tell that he was being both polite and annoyed. “Good to see you.” He was not happy about seeing her. “I am in the middle of something, so if this is not a pressing issue, perhaps we could continue this at a later date?” Please, please fuck off.

The veneer of politeness he was using didn’t let her be outright annoyed, but the machine’s tone when it spoke for her suggested she wasn’t very happy either. “It concerns our guest,” she said, turning her gaze to you. “And it is somewhat pressing.”

Your centaur shuffled his back legs and swung his tail. “Very well. Let’s get you back to the pod.” He ignored her, focusing his gaze on you as he assisted you back to the pod. You let out a sigh of relief as soon as you were in it. Your centaur rotated the pod back into the horizontal position and started to fill it with the thick fluid that let you float comfortably.

The first officer approached, claws clicking softly against the floor as she did so. “The human will want to be awake for this,” she said. “It’s important.”

Your centaur huffed a bit, but he didn’t move to put the sleeping drugs back in your system and just folded his arms up to his chest, in a way reminiscent of a praying mantis, and waited for her to speak.

She cleared her throat and turned her gaze to you. “We’re coming across one of our stations. You will be placed on a shuttle to the station, and then sent on another ship back to Tenso-bara.”

You blinked. What was Tenso-bara?

“In my opinion, that’s not a good idea,” your centaur said. His ears were still flattened, his lips curling back from his teeth just a little. “The hibernation causes weakness and sickness, so it may not be a good idea for travel at this point in the-”

“We are not going to come across another station for several-” The translation stuttered here, blocking the word out. “And we are not in compliance with the endangered species accords. We’re required to send endangered species to occupied worlds that hold to the accords for proper categorization and preservation.”

“Those accords aren’t for fellow intelligent species!” your centaur huffed.

“They were initially designed for non-sapient life, yes, but they do not exclude sapient species. Given what we know, we may be sheparding the last member of the human species.”

“There might be others!” you said. The first officer paused, her gaze going piercing-sharp. “The Ship was designed to separate damaged segments to protect the undamaged parts. The part of the ship I was on was only a small portion of the full thing! There are probably others!”

The first officer paused. “How many others?”

“Um. I think there were around two hundred and fifty thousand. Maybe as many as three hundred thousand? I’m not sure- they were trying to add additional pods at the end, but I was put to sleep before that happened.”

“But there is no guarantee that these other people did survive. Nor do you have any idea where the ship is now.” The first officer’s voice wasn’t cold or cruel, but it wasn’t gentle, either. You drooped a little.

“No. There might be information on the computer about where we were when the impact happened, but if it’s not there, then I don’t know where the ship could be.”

“Then I apologize, but unless we have other living members of the species or some confirmation that the others are alive, then you are under the accords and cannot stay on this ship. It is required for you to be returned to a planet.” She stamped her two front feet in a motion you assumed was like a shrug. “There is nothing I can do.”

“If that’s the case, then I want to make a request,” your centaur said. He stepped forward, practically shielding you from the first officer. “I would like to request a transfer.”

The first officer swung her tail back and forth across the floor, making a soft schff, schff, schff sound. “You wish to go with the human.”             Your centaur’s ears twitched and he rubbed his wrists together. Maybe he was embarrassed at having been so obvious. “Ah, well. Yes. I think it would be a good idea to stay, since I’m already aware of the medical conditions and-”

The first officer stomped one of her feet firmly against the ground. “I will submit the request. But I cannot guarantee it will be approved.” She turned back to you, expression neutral. That you could tell, anyway. Their faces didn’t seem as expressive as a human’s. Or maybe you just couldn’t understand their expressions as well. “You will be transferred in two days.”

Without another word, she left the room. Your centaur made a noise somewhere between a relieved sigh and an irritated huff. Then he turned back toward you. “I apologize about her.”

“What was she talking about?” you asked. He picked up an IV line of sleeping meds and for a moment you thought that he was going to knock you out so he wouldn’t have to answer your questions. But he just fiddled with it for a moment before speaking.

“There are many species in the known universe, and the gradual colonization of these planets has left many of these species  in critical danger, which led to environmental accords. Severely endangered species have laws regarding their transport in space and species in critical danger need to be taken to preserves in order to breed them back to proper levels. Or just keep them until their species naturally goes extinct. Whichever.”

“I’m going to be put on a nature preserve?” you said, trying to sit up. Your centaur immediately tried to usher you to lie back down.

“Probably not for long. I’m sure they’ll work to give you freedom and self-determination and all that. We’re just… required to follow regulations.” He rubbed his wrists together again. “I do want to advocate for you, though, hence why I elected to come with you. And to give you medical care.” He made a series of thumping noises in rapid succession, which the robot apparently interpreted as laughing. “I didn’t get my xenobiologist degree just to hand a medically delicate specimen over to some idiot government worker.” His voice got softer as he continued. “You’re going to be okay.”

It was comforting to hear that reassurance. He slipped the line into the shunt in your arm and you closed your eyes, feeling an unusually peaceful sleep drift over you.

Part 2 here.

[billshxsband]

oh em gee imagine like 2009 Tom w a pregnant girlfriend who’s like SUPERRR needy in her second trimester, like she needs to be around him ALL the time and feel his skin on hers😛 like her libido is so high and she needs her sweet release

YURRRRR

Theres fluff at the end btw 😘💞

“Tom.. pleaseeee.. i need youuuu!” I whined as i rubbed myself onto him, he grabbed my hips to stop me.

“Babe i think its better if you just rest..”

“pleaaaseee if you do it ill fall asleep faster!”

“…fine only cause im done with you grinding on me so much..”

He gently laid me onto the bed and undressed me, he was being a bit too gentle..

He leaned down and kissed my stomach

“Hey- i didn’t say to just sit there and kiss my belly!! I want your attention more than the baby..”

“Yea i can see that, all you do is beg for me..”

He spread my legs and moved his mouth down to my clit, sucking it gently

“Nhmm..” i whined a bit from the contact of his cold lip right on my cunt.

He darted his tongue into me, moving it in and out at a fast pace and hummed against my pussy.

“Hngh-! Shit..!”

“You wanted it so deal with it.. cum for me babe, i know youre close.”

After about two minutes i came, my juices going in his mouth and on his lips.

He came back up.

“You did so good.”

He gently toyed with my clit.

“A..ah.. fuck tom.. shit..”

“You like that huh? Want my fingers inside you then i expect you to beg for it.”

“Please.. please put your fingers inside of me i need you.. im so horny i cant take it please! Please ill listen to your every word i promise.. please!!”

With that he shoved 2 fingers into me, thrusting them at a fast pace, realllyyy fast..

“Angh! Shit fuck fuck fuck! Ah..!”

“Language, sweetie. Keep letting dirty words slip out ill stop huh? You want that? Want to be spanked for not listening to me?”

“N-no im sorry! Auh-! Nhm fuh..! Ill st-stop!”

He slammed his fingers into me faster and faster, eventually adding a third

“Mhh!”

I came on his fingers.

“Shit.. look at the mess you made..”

He took his fingers out and put them to my lips.

“Clean them, now.”

I opened my mouth and he shoved them in my put, making me gag.

I sucked on them, as i did that he lowered his jeans and boxers, rubbing me with his tip, my hips bucked, trying to get him in me.

he slowly went in stretching me a bit, we hadnt had sex in a while so it was a little painful

“Ow ow ow..”

“I know babe im sorry.. itll get better liebe..” he whispered in a soothing tone.

Eventually he started thrusting and it turned to pleasure over pain.

I looked down, seeing him thrusting into me.

“You like the way my cock disappears into your tight little cunt huh? You like watching it thrust into you hm? Such a good girl..” he gently put his hand on my neck.

“U-uh huh.. so.. good..”

He started getting more rough, slamming into me. I threw my head back and moaned loudly.

“Nhmm!”

The room was filled with moans, skin slapping and heavy breathing as he fucked the life out of me.

“Ngh.. fuck youre so tight.. so good f’me..”

I nodded a bit, he pulled out and started jerking off quickly

“B-but i didnt cu-“

“Shut up.. fuck im not do-one.. be patient, princess..”

He kept stroking himself and came on my stomach, then thrusting back inside and pounding me.

He cupped one of my breasts with his hand and squeezed it as he thrusted fastly.

Quickly i came and he pulled out.

——————————————————————————

We were now laying down and watching a movie, he was kissing my stomach.

“Poor baby.. your mommy is so loud im sorry if you heard her..” i gently slapped his arm.

“Hey! I was just apologizing FOR YOU!” He smiled

“I wasn’t that loud..”

He just rolled his eyes and laid beside me, cuddling me and running his hand through my hair.

[slay-ers]

One of my fav things to think about is starving someone for a few days and then feeding them until they just cant hold anything anymore. (I haven't ever written a fic before so this is my first attempt open to ideas or requests)

A wakes up in a dark room with a single dull light in the middle of the ceiling flickering on and off and buzzing lightly. A tries to reach up and quickly realizes they cant. A pulls at their arms to realize they are tied behind them in the chair they are in a long with a rope tight around their stomach. A doesn't know where they are, the last thing they remember was falling asleep at B's house after a night of drinking and now they have woken up here. A looks around the empty room and sees a door to their right. A few moments later the door opens and B walks in with a small smile on their face

" Hello A how are you doing? I just want you to know I'm gonna be keeping you here for a few days if that's ok with you, I have a fun little game were going to play".

A looked up at B "what is going on why am I here where am I?"

"its gonna be fine," B said "Ill keep you in this room and I'll give you things to do like watch TV, I'll feed you in a few days it will be ok"

A made a face at B. Both of them knew A was into hunger and stuffing, and so was B. Slowly A started to realize B's "game", B was going to hold them here trapped in this room and watch and listen as A's belly started to scream and beg for food. Eventually B would feed them, eventually. A hid a smile as B walked out of the room and came back in with a TV. B turned the channel to Food Network and walked over to the door with the remote, "I'll come in and check on you later, have fun A!" and B walked out of the room with a big smile on their face.

At first everything was fine, all the drinking from the night before had bloated A to their point the buttons on their jeans were straining but slowly the bloating was going down. Later that first night A's stomach let out a small rumble which was then quickly cut short from the tightness of the ropes around their stomach. A began to drift to sleep to the sound of one of those old ladies on the Food Network making chicken-pot-pie. In the middle of their sleep A was suddenly jolted awake by their stomach rolling and turning. Instinctively A tried to reach up to soothe their belly but to no avail. In a desperate attempt to take their mind off their tummy A looked around the room and their eyes fell on the TV, displaying BBQ in what looked like technicolor. A groaned and threw their head back and at that exact moment the door opened and none other than B themselves walked through the door. B had both their hands full, one with a large glass of iced water and the other with a plate full of eggs and bacon. The smell almost brought A to tears and their stomach kicked into action, loudly exclaiming its need for food. B walked over to A and waved the plate under their nose, the smell was almost intoxicating and A's mouth filled with saliva. B giggled at A's desperation and smiled " I brought you some water". A's face fell they knew the food wasn't for them but then why would B bring it, just to torture them? B placed down the glass of water near A's chair and used their free hand to lift a piece of bacon to their lips. A watched as B licked the grease off the bacon with their tongue and then drop the whole piece in their mouth. B then began to eat the whole plate of eggs and bacon with their hands, moaning in pleasure as their stomach quickly filled with 3 servings of food. B licked the grease off their fingers and pulled down their sweatpants to show off their full belly to A. A's stomach groaned in hunger and be smirked,

"oh my god, I'm so full" B moaned. " My belly is so full and heavy, listen"

B walked closer to A and pressed A's head up against their swirling stomach. A listened as B's stomach rolled wetly and let out small strained gurgles. In response A's stomach wailed and rolled under the ropes. B heard the despair coming from A's belly and strained to bend over and pick up the glass of water at their feet. B held the glass of ice cold water up to A's lips and A drank. A's belly quickly filled with ice water, shooting quick and cold pain across A's abdomen. B then walked over to the front of A and pulled the ropes down from A's belly only slightly and pressed their own overfull, hot belly onto A's cold and sloshy one. A felt so empty and full at the same time and they watched in despair as B walked out of the room and closed the door behind them. A's eyes fell right back on the TV which was now playing compilations of cakes in 4K. A slammed their eyes shut and listed to their own stomach boil and froth begging for food. A felt so hungry they were almost nauseous their jeans felt loose and the ropes that were once tight around their stomach were slipping down on their own, A acted like they hated it but they knew that was a lie.

For the next 2 days B would come into A's room and repeat the process, sometimes also dropping cold water on A's belly or running their fingers across it. On the morning of the 4th day A woke up in complete darkness and realized their was a blindfold over their face. Then suddenly A was hit in the face with what smelled like heaven, their stomach started screaming and saliva flooded their mouth. A heard the door open and B walk in, B comes behind A and puts their hands on A's belly and gently says

"You've done so good and I'm so proud of you, I made something special for you"

A smiles at what they can only imagine will be the best meal of their life.

"but everything you touch has to be finished, no acceptions" B says sternly.

A shakes their head up and down ferociously In agreement, wanting to just get to the eating. B unties their hands and removes the now loose rope from A's waist.

B smiles and says "remember the rule", and walks out of the room shutting the door behind them.

A quickly reaches up and pulls off the blindfold revealing a table covered completely in food, hamburgers, steak, mashed potatoes, chips, sandwiches, soups, pastas, cookies, cupcakes, and ice cream. A quickly grabs a steak and within minutes it's gone, next a big bowl of mashed potatoes drowned in butter, a few handfuls of chips, everything slowly blurring together. A is unaware of everything they have eaten so far but thinks they still have some room left for at least 2 slices of cake. A cuts 2 fairly large pieces of double dutch chocolate cake with buttercream frosting onto the plate in front of them. They blow through the first slice but almost after the first bite of the second slice everything they have eaten has become heavy and solid in their stomach. A leans back and pushes their belly out in hopes of pushing out a burp to make room but their stomach is so packed there is no room for air. A sighs and feels content with themselves until B opens the door,

"you plan on finishing that by yourself?" B asks

A looks up at B seeming to have forgot their little agreement. B bends over to look at A in the eyes.

"you need to finish everything you started Sugar" be whispers into A's ear.

A looks at B desperately "I cant fit anything more I'm so full, please."

B stands back up and smiles down at A, "nope, but I'd be more than willing to help you.."

A looks at the almost full piece of cake on their plate and then looks back to B, "it cant be that bad" they think to themselves, and then nod slowly to B.

B walks over and picks the piece of cake up off the plate and hold it to A's lips "open up" B demands. A reluctantly opens their mouth allowing the guided slice of cake into their mouth. A takes a big bite leaving only half the slice left, "good jobb" B coos. A slowly chews the bite of cake in their mouth, the sugar of the frosting making their teeth hurt and tongue curl. Their stomach groans in protest and A almost feels like they cant swallow. B realizes this and slowly starts rubbing A's stomach feeling how tight and strained it is, a red blush forming on the top of their belly from the skin pulled so tight. A manages to swallow but immediately after their stomach makes a sick sound, lurches them forward, and forces out a burp which quickly turns into a gag. A claps a hand over their mouth and B looks at them with pleasure,

"someone overestimated how much they could take, come on Sugar you're almost done one more bite".

A looks up at B with pleading eyes they are so full they cant even speak, but they again open their mouth to take the final bite. A quickly chews and swallows the last bite of cake fed to them by B. Their stomach is so full and tender they cant even touch it, now jean buttons are once again digging into their belly and B is looking at them with admiration.

B smiles sweetly at them "I'm so proud of you Sugar you did so well" and A gives them a half hearted smile but deep inside they love the praise.

They love the heaviness of their belly, the painful gurgles, the struggle to breathe, and the feeling of the oncoming food coma. B takes A out of the dark room into their own bedroom and lays A down on the bed. B unbuttons A's jeans and A sighs in relief, B then begins to gently massage A's belly and A begins to slip into a food coma their final thought before going out was "i've gotta do that again soon".

[au-sonic-smackdown]

AU Sonic Smackdown - Round 1, Right Side

Click to see full size image

Halloweentown AU belongs to @colorfulplasma

Words Hurt AU belongs to @oddogoblino

Read more about them under the cut!

Halloweentown AU-

Long ago, Sonic used to be the heroic speedster everyone praised, constantly feuding with his rival, Eggman. But on one fateful day, Robotnik triumphed that day. They both couldn't believe it. Sonic's defeat led him to be prisoner beneath the ocean surface. Next day, he woke up in the chaotic dysfunctional afterlife known as Halloweentown. Sure he might be intimidated for a big behemoth like him but he's a very welcoming goof around town.

Words Hurt AU-

In this au, Earth is decaying, the planet slowly losing its ability to sustain life due to mankind's lack of care to it. To try and survive, they attempted to move people to planet mobius as it held similar conditions as earth. The mobians at first welcomed them happily, happy to help those in need. Eventually, the humans began trying to repeat their old mistakes and began digging into mobius and setting up machines to harvest from it to try and save Earth. The planet didn't handle this as well as earth once did, machines quickly backfiring and any mobians nearby during the incidents quickly falling ill. That's how the infections started.

Sonic's parents were one of the few first mobians infected, having lost them due to them going into the second form of the illness that's caused from starvation. They'd been "quarantined" and left without food or an energy source for too long. He was only a toddler when this happened. He's now part of Vanilla's secret organization that helps infected mobians survive outside of the homes they'd been kicked out of due to fear. Sonic himself works as a secret delivery boy and tends to travel to make sure infected mobians have access to food and water and even just simple pleasantries like games and toys. He met Tails as a 4 yr old who'd been born from infected parents, taking care of him when they weren't. Currently Sonic is 17 and Tails is 8.

Sonic is mostly his same ole usual self except he's a lot less social. He doesn't talk to anyone except for Tails, Vanilla, and sometimes Cream. He was naturally born with his super speed but keeps it hidden due to not wanting to be mistaken as an infected. He still has to fight Eggman as the mad doctor tries to manipulate both uninfected and infected mobians' fears and resentment toward each other. He has a civilian disguise named Nicky so no one recognizes him as the superspeedy hero. He's a bit more easily agitated but only because he doesn't get enough sleep with his work.

Sonic's right eye is always tearing up, not because he's emotional but because of repeated exposure to infectious spores. The spores can only infect others if inhaled or through exposed open wounds. Hes naturally immune to the illness, but he doesn't know that, and wouldn't ever take chances on it. Whenever he gets injured, he disinfects the wound immediately and patches it up like others would in hopes to avoid spore-infection.

Infected mobians tend to live in abandoned spaces that their cities and towns assigned for them to live. Infected mobians feed off energy, whether that be electricity, emotions, powerful items, etc, but can also eat normal foods just fine. They need normal food to keep sane and prevent them from going into the second form that attacks anything with energy in it. Only the second form can infect others directly, making it the most dangerous and is an automatic kill-on-sight if seen. No one knows yet if you can change infected back to normal after they've transformed. Vanilla takes care of transformed infected when Sonic reports the incidents.

Mobians aren't the only things infected, plant and wildlife have been mutated by the illness aswell. The symptoms of the infection is body mutations, a blue tongue, and increased hunger and thirst. Mobians born from infected parents can't go into the second form but they become feral without food. Bites from hostile born-infected mobians are less likely to spread the infection but it isn't impossible.

[nellielsss]

ᴜᴘᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ: ᴀ ʟɪꜱᴛ

𐦍༘⋆ ݁A/n: Sooo... I've been in a brainstorming mood (ever since I graduated high school and had more time to think), and I have a few upcoming fics that I'm thinking about doing. I've also REALLY been thirsting over Toji like yes that is my man!! I will indeed be standing beside him. Anyway!! Here's some of my ideas in order of which one's I'm most likely to write.

Heartbreaker songfic!: one of my personal favorite Mariah Carey songs, it's such a sweet and fun bubblegum (with a mix of R&B) song to listen to! Basically in this songfic, the reader's just playing a bunch of characters and stringing them along LMAO. I felt like turning the tables on the men & making them pine instead.

Blow songfic: basically just headcanons on how the men give head. Whether it be pussy-eating, dick-sucking or ass-eating, these men are down for anything, and this details how they get down (in my opinion).

Meeting the Zen'in Clan: a Toji-centered fic, this details meeting the Zen'in Clan and how (poorly) it turns out. Basically, Toji has a grandmother who tried to care for him during his time with the clan, and she's fallen ill, so he wants to see her one last time at a banquet. Naoya, the little shit he is, somehow gathered details about reader and outs her as a trans woman in front of everyone at the table. You can guess how it goes from there!

Marriage Eyes: headcanon + mini-fic on how the guys look at you when they know they wanna lock you in.

Touch My Body songfic: a forbidden romance featuring Toji, Satoru & Nanami!

Too Much Sex: the guys love you(r holes), but it's beginning to be a little too much for you. How would they react when you instate a sex ban on them?

Beautiful Liar songfic: you're on a date with a guy, and it all goes to shit when you run into the girl they're seeing on the side. Two-timing is not your thing, so you decide to ditch him with the most attractive man you see at the bar!

Stay The Night songfic: short little drabble where you don't wanna see your man go, so you opt to have a sleepover on the spot.

The Boy Is Mine songfic: how would the guys react when the girl they've been seeing ultimately ends up being the only girl who's not murdered?

Baddest Chick Wearing Their Chain: the guys wonder how you'd look wearing their initials/name around your neck.

Honey songfic: what's one way to show your partner some love? By dripping it all over 'em, of course! (if you catch my drift)

Fashion Week: the guys start dating a model, and they get a firsthand look at the fashion biz. He wonders if the stereotype about models being catty holds up...

Gym Pics: short and sweet, self-explanatory.

Fighting a Cat?!: cats can be a pain in the ass if they don't like you, so when they finally get invited over to their girlfriends' house, the guys are at a loss when their sweet angel's sweet angel isn't exactly a sweet angel to them in private.

Hey, Neighbor!: Wisteria Lane (Desperate Housewives ref. hehe) wasn't a place where they expected to meet fine young women, but the guys could at least hope, right? So when the answer to their prayers moves in down the street, they're more than eager to go after what they've been waiting for.

Up Out My Face songfic: they know they've messed up badly, and they also know that their girlfriends have suitors lined up just waiting to take their places. So, how are they gonna go about getting them back before it's too late?

ᡣ𐭩 If you couldn't tell, I really like listening to music. Some of these might take a while (like the Zen'in Clan fic), so bear with me (ó﹏ò｡) but trust, I'll get to each of these eventually!! I also might update 'em as time goes on, just to make sure that the writing's all cohesive and makes sense.

© ʙʀᴜɴᴇᴛᴛᴇ-ʙɪᴛᴄʜ77 on tumblr - get your own shit bitches | ca. 6/8/2024

[verdemoun]

number one kieran duffy fan here i need to know more abt mac or i think ill die. not even with kieran just. tell me abt this silly goose

MAAAAAAAAAAAC

silly goose is the perfect descriptive because mac is just a goose. he is bill but with a sense of humor. he just also happens to be a) ready to escalate to violence at any given second b) shares the john marston curse of happening to look like a really, really intimidating guy and not knowing how to switch it off

he's serving guy who does a little too well in a zombie apocalypse. sure mac enjoyed being an outlaw, sure the one thing in life he is really good at is shooting to kill, but also he was raising his brother from such a young age he really didn't have any opportunity to be anything else.

when he gets out of prison and hosea puts his foot down like no robberies no guns no outlawing we are going straight (well-) mac is kind of like a retired hunting dog learning to be a house pet. he doesn't know how to relax or do things not for survival. there was the necessary push back of what the fuck am i meant to do i'm not good for anything else and hosea shouted back to get a damned hobby or a job

but also post-timewarp post-prison was the first time in his life he's just been safe enough to have a moment to breathe and figure out who he is outside of outlawing (gay). who would've guessed mac callander could read? not only that but he enjoys reading now that he actually has time for it. also one of the only members of the gang to get into sports and will shout at the tv in the last quarter

mac and kieran's friendship works so well because they both identify with 'my resting heart rate registers as a panic attack' but in opposite directions. mac will watch kieran look in the pantry for two hours because he has a craving and hasn't figured out for what yet before suddenly asking mac to walk with him to the local mexican food truck because if he doesn't have a taco he will lose all ability to function for the rest of the day. mac doesn't know what a taco is so 'sure is it dangerous should i bring a knife?'

mac also deeply loves horses he's not taming wild horses riding bareback in love with horses like kieran and arthur but he does love horses and just feels warmth and peace at just the sight of them. he doesn't care if it's the 7th showing of war horse that week he will sit down and watch it with kieran. he will also cry while trying to not make it obvious he is crying like still gruff voice 'course i'm sad the horse collapsed and it's not getting up' while frantically wiping tears away when someone else enters the room

mac is also working through gay panic internalized homophobia. he is fine with the gays and is very dismissive of how much more visible the community is in modern era because why would he, a straight man, care - but gets aggressively agitated when people suggest he is gay. because he is absolutely gold star gay. wouldn't ever formally come out but eventually gets to the point of being able to say he lives with bill without looking ready to kill someone

has a job at a wholefoods stacking fruit before joining bill as a farmhand and thus acquires a really bizarre knowledge of all things fruit and veg. can go on a 20 minute tangent about what classifies as organic produce and which apple is superior for apple pie and how to pick the perfect watermelon without slapping it. still doesn't know how to talk without sounding like he's threatening someone but is genuinely excited to know about something other than where to shoot a man to guarantee they'll bleed out.

trust getting an invite to bill and mac's dingy trailer for dinner is going to be the best meat and veg roast of your life

[planetharrie]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Muddy Puddles

Also available to read on my Wattpad @PlanetHarrie

In which Harry’s go-to rainy day activities are rinsed dry when little Opal sees incredible puddles outside and the urge to jump in them ends in disaster.. 🌧️🧥🪟

⭐️

“Dad, I’m b-o-ored!”

Harry sat back on the soles of his feet, and let out an exasperated sigh.

“I know, Love.” He sympathised. A hand of his brushed his matted hair back from his face and he shared a small smile with his 5 year-old. “How about we. . . do some colouring?”

“We already did that!” Opal squeaked from her spot by the lounge window.

That was true. The current rainstorm outside had caged the father and daughter inside their small townhouse for the day. They’d scrambled their way through Opal’s Lego boxes, completed three jigsaw puzzles, coloured and played with Opal’s naked Barbies for an hour before she’d chucked her dolls to the floor and decided she’d rather gaze out the window.

Harry’s legs were now far too numb for his liking and he glanced around the living room floor that was cluttered with their discarded rainy-day activities.

“Well. . . How ‘bout we watch a film? ‘M a bit tired, Love.” He blew out a breath and his cherry lips rippled ever so slightly. He glanced up at the clock on the mantelpiece; it was four P.M and he knew he needed to start getting tea ready. “We can have some din-dins while we watch?”

Opal pouted and squirmed in the armchair she was using to look out the condensed windows. Her pigtails bounced when her feet hopped onto the carpet.

“No, Dada! That’s b-o-ring.”

“Opal. .” Harry whined. That was when Opal’s little round face suddenly change and her lips perked up into a mischievous smile, as if she’d had an eureka moment. But Harry had already read her swirling mind; “We’re not going outside, Baby.”

Opal answered with puppy eyes and her blonde eyebrows raised. She crawled up onto her Dad’s lap like a cat and took the material of his t-shirt into his tiny fists. Harry twirled one of her bunches in his finger with his mouth drew in an unimpressed line.

“Darling, you could get ill; it’s very cold and soggy out there.”

“But!—But, I’ll wear a coat and a hat!” Her little voice pleaded with excitement. “I want to jump in the puddles, Papa! Like Peppa!”

The two shared a look between each other, Harry’s left eye twitching as he fought against his little girl’s pleading.

“Oh alright,” Harry eventually gave in, earning a squeal and a choking-hug around his neck from Opal, “But you must wear your boots and hat, Opie. We don’t want you getting another nasty cold!”

Ten minutes and a few spoonfuls of yoghurt later, Opal was stood in the hallway like a little human marshmallow. Harry had bundled her up in leggings and a thick jumper with her raincoat zipped-up to her chin and her knitted beanie slumped over her brows. The hood of her mustard-coloured raincoat was thrown over her hat which only showed her pale, little face. She had purple gloves coating her hands and Peppa Pig wellies on her feet.

Opal stomped around in circles a few times, testing out her new boots as she waited for Harry to put on his coat.

“It’s raining a lot out there, Opie.” Harry warned lightly as he slung on his own raincoat and threw the hood over his head.

“But puddles are fun!” Opal jumped, waving her short arms in the air. “‘S fine because I have my raincoat on, so I won’t get wet.”

Harry knew she and him were going to get soaked but Opal seemed too eager to go out in the rain for him to say no. With reluctance, Harry turned the key, unlocked the latch and opened the front door.

They were met with the overstimulating noise of rain pelting down onto the ground and Opal stepped back a little.

“You sure, Opal?. .”

The 5 year-old seemed to pause and think for a moment before she looked up at her Dad and nodded. “Hold me, please.”

Harry picked his little angel up and held her tightly in his arms as they stepped out, the front door shutting behind them.

“Puddles! Dad I see a puddle!” Harry followed Opal’s glove-covered finger to the (giant) puddle that had accumulated at the side of the pavement curb. He placed her down and Opal ran down the short path and opened the garden gate.

Harry lurched forward with his arm stretched out to grab her just in time when she nearly got knocked over by a postman jogging past with his red, saturated satchel bouncing on his hip.

“Sorry, mate!” The postman called back.

Opal did not hesitate to bend her knees and jump into the brown puddle of water, instantly soaking her pink leggings. She squealed and stomped in the puddle.

“I’m all wet now!”

“You sure are!” Harry called, eventually exiting the small front-garden and stood at the curb. A bath is definitely going to be needed before bedtime is what he decided.

“Daddy it’s your turn!” Opal grinned up at her Dad.

“N-No, Daddy doesn’t want to get wet, Baby.” He grimaced at the dark patches of water soaking into the material of her leggings. Harry reminded himself that he was getting soaked by the rain anyway stood into the middle of the pavement; he may as well join in with his little girl.

He told Opal to move over slightly and his feet splashed into the middle with an impressive jump and filthy water spurted everywhere; some drops landed on Opal’s face and she whined.

She reached her hand up to her face to wipe the water, forgetting that her gloves were soaked and made her face even more damp. “Dad. . .”

Her face crumpled and she let out a cry.

“Hey.. There’s no need for tears, Love.” Harry cooed, stepping out of the puddle. He paused, unsure how to comfort her; he couldn’t exactly hug her or stroke her hair. Instead, he rubbed her small back and bent down to Opal’s level. “It’s not very nice out here, is it?”

The rain hadn’t stopped pelting down from the sky and Opal’s lips began to quiver with the cold. Harry couldn’t bare the thought of her getting cold or sick because of him, so he led them back inside. Opal stripped-off in the hallway, her clothes in a soggy pile at the door, and Harry wrapped her up in a towel that was drying on the radiator.

“Are you ready to watch a film now, Darling?” He whispered softly. He dabbed Opal’s face and hair dry as she nodded with a pout on her face. “I think it’s better to go jump in puddles after the rain stops. Shall we do that next time?”

Opal nodded again but cracked a small smile this time.

Harry put some potato waffles in the oven and heated up a pan of baked beans for Opal’s dinner. He brought it in on a tray and as he sat down next to her little body on the sofa, a sudden sneeze shook her frame.

“Achoo!”

They both looked at each other; Opal glanced innocently up at her Dad, waiting to be offered a spoon of beans. Harry covered up his expression of worry mixed with a grimace with a kind smile. Perhaps the small trip out into the rain was a silly idea; neither of them had enjoyed the 30 seconds of storm exposure. But they both learned a lesson and now know that puddles after the rain passes, is a lot more fun.

⭐️

[xpennytrickx]

it's so hard to choose and i kind of want to ask you to explain all of them but particulary /b/tard pattycakes is the funniest thing ive read all day and im dying to know what its about

thank you so much. it delights me every time i remember it's in my folder

FUCK OFF RE:DEGENERATE ASSHOLE Anonymous 09/07/08(Fri)15:50:47 No.717794 >

I don't care how pissed off you dumbfucks get becus I'm namefagging. I DONT CARE. I want that fuckers head on a pike and you KNOW the asshole I'm talking about. I'm tired of his fucking loli threads and retarded secrets threads and how every time I post pics he responds with stupid shit about how he wants to lock me in a basement because he's a faggot creep. I'M LITERALLY UNDERAGE. I'm sorry for posting face pics, okay???!!! Maybe I just want someone to tell me that I'm not the ugliest lamest most disgusting guy I know and that I'm just average (I'm fine with being average) without getting sexually assaulted on line. Go back to /lit/ you pretentious piece of shit fucker. Eat shit and die I'M NOT KIDDING.

>> Anonymous 09/07/08(Fri)15:52:03 No.717795 > i cant believe you want me this bad. ill send you my address if you want. you can be my penpal and then maybe you can stop shitting up the boards with how hard youre jacking your little boy cock off to me. ive saved at least 3gigs worth of pix of you. i think youre an angel. i love you.

~

basically patrick is a miserable shut-in computer nerd who spends a lot of time on vintage 4chan and he gets his ass chewed regularly for posting very badly on there and pete develops a psychosexual relationship with him after he starts posting pics of himself for validation and the feelings eventually become mutual. i can't get enough of internet-based aus

wip game asks <3

[resowrites]

The Fight Before Christmas (part 2) - oneshot.

Summary: All is finally revealed, but will Henry and his girlfriend’s relationship ever be the same? (follow on from this oneshot, but can be read as a standalone story).

Pairings: AU!Henry Cavill x Girlfriend!OC

Warnings: 18+ only (adult themes), angst, fluff, relationship difficulties/argument, brief mention toxic family dynamics, brief mention of illness/end of life care, brief allusion to smut, dialogue heavy, time hopping/vignette style, language, pet names, nondescript OC body type/appearance, hastily written/lightly proofread.

WC: 4549

A/N: Phew, here it is folks. Sorry it’s a little rushed. This week’s been crazy and I ran out of time. I hope you all enjoy and as ever, please let me know your thoughts. This piece is a big bowl of happy/sad soup, please take care when reading as I know it can be a difficult time of year. I wish all of you a safe, peaceful Holiday - R x

My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Likes, follows, reblogs and comments are thoroughly welcome and appreciated! Gifs/pics not my own. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for visiting!

The Fight Before Christmas (part 2) - oneshot.

Saturday 12:38 am

Henry hurried back inside, dazed and confused about what just happened. A rhythmic thumping noise then stopped him in his tracks. It was Kal plodding down the stairs. He usually hid in Ollie's office during the colder months, the warmth of the radiator under her desk providing a cosy place for naps. He crouched down and cuddled his boy. He must have heard the arguing, gone into their bedroom like he normally did at that time, and found them both missing. He wracked his brain for what to do. If he did go after her, she might not come back at all. But he just couldn't fathom why she was so determined to get away. He knew it wasn't anything he'd done, it was now technically the weekend which also meant he was officially off work until January. He'd been so looking forward to spending Christmas with her. Kal nudged at the hem of her coat, which dangled from the hook above them and whimpered. She'd left without it.

He shot back up and tried to find his phone, eventually realising it was still in the kitchen. He knew she probably wouldn't pick up, but he had to try. "Hi, this is Ollie. I'm sorry I can't take your call. Leave a message and I'll get back to you, thanks!" Just hearing her voice made his stomach drop. He tried to stay calm and think logically about where she might be headed. The nearest hotel was only a b&b and took a good two hours to get to, even at that time. Her only friends within an hour's distance were Rachel, Laura, and Claire. Laura used to be a nurse, but she also had young children. Would she bother her at that time? What if Laura didn't pick up and he couldn't reach either of them? His mind carried on racing until he felt something warm slide across his hand. Kal had followed him into the kitchen and was licking his fingers. "What am I gunna do mate, eh?" Kal's head merely tilted from left to right. He sighed and noticed the glass still spread out over the counter. He'd tidy up, keep ringing round for a bit, and then make up the sofa just in case she came back. But his plan didn't reassure him for long. Not when he actually looked around and knew that, already, the house seemed to have changed completely. He stared back down at his phone and decided to try texting her as well.

***

Saturday 8:06 am

"Oh Laura, thank God. Is she alright?"

"She's fine, didn't you see my text? I'm sorry I missed your calls--"

"She needs to get her hand stitched!"

"Don't worry, I've already taken care of it--"

"Well where is she? Can I talk to her?"

"Henry, calm down. I promise you, she's alright--"

"Good, then I'm on my way now." She hesitated.

"I'm not sure that's the best idea…" Henry's hand hovered over his car keys.

"What do you mean? I need her home, Laura." The worry in his voice made her heart pinch.

"I know, but I think she should stay here for a bit. What the hell happened? She was in a complete state… are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine - and I still don't bloody know! She's been acting strangely and I pushed too hard trying to find out why. I think something's up with her job, but it's not like her to just run off… something else must have happened. I've never seen her like it before, she got so angry she smashed a bottle she was holding. Has she really not said anything to you?"

"No, but then you know how stubborn she is. Don't worry, she's welcome to stay but I'll try and get her home as soon as I can. Right, I better go ring round and see if I can get some antibiotics, her hand will be okay but I don't want it getting infected."

"Yeah, sure, sorry I'll let you go. Thanks for all of this though and I'm sorry you were disturbed so late. How are Jack and the kids?"

"Yeah, all good. He'll be back in time for Christmas so my mum's looking after them while I sort out the house."

"Oh God, I'm sorry we're bothering you."

"Nah, I'm enjoying the company actually. I haven't seen her in ages so it'll be good to catch up. Please don't worry yourself, though."

"Easier said than done. To be honest, I'm afraid she won't want to come back."

"Don't be silly, she adores you. All will come right eventually, okay?"

"I hope so. Please keep an eye on her though, I'm worried about her state of mind. She isn't eating, either." She hesitated again, wondering whether or not to tell him Ollie hadn't touched her breakfast.

"I will, and I'll keep you updated. Take care of yourself, alright? And stop worrying."

"Okay, you take care as well… and give her my love." She gave her assurances and they said their goodbyes. She then peered through the kitchen door. Ollie was still sitting in the armchair, staring into space.

***

Friday 8:11 pm

"Ollie? Wh-what are you doing here?" She was in no mood for stupid questions and quickly but carefully pushed past her mother. "Ollie, don't go up there… he won't want to talk!" She let her mother's voice bounce off the stairs. When she came to the right door, she found herself holding her breath.

"… Dad? Dad, it's me, Ollie." He lifted his sagging head from the pillow and blinked until his eyes came into focus.

"W-why… why are you here?! Get out… now! Go on, go…" His rage quickly dissolved into a coughing fit.

"Dad, please. I've been trying to see you for weeks. I even had mum leave the phone by your bed so I could ring. B-but that doesn't matter now, how are you?" For several minutes he didn't respond, choosing instead to keep his cold gaze fixed on her face. Eventually, she looked away.

"Thirty-three."

"… I-I'm sorry?"

"Thirty-three years of age… and what do you have to show for it?" Her mouth went dry. "You should be a director at that company, and what are you? A glorified calculator. Why don't you toddle on back to him, while you still can? He'll get bored of you eventually…"

"That's not true."

"Oh, but it is. He doesn't love you. You're a failure, my girl. My biggest disappointment." There was no use countering his words with the same arguments she'd made time and time again. Compared to her sisters, she'd always been treated unfairly. And that wasn't about to change.

"… I-I just came to say, I'm sorry. For everything. I forgive you as well. Please, be at peace Dad. I love you." She then hurried from the room, almost bumping into her mother who it appeared had been listening in the entire time. They stared at each other for a moment. "I… wish you could have done more to help us." Her mother went to speak, then stopped herself. Ollie looked to the floor, her tears blurring her vision. "Goodbye, mum."

***

Monday

"Are you warm enough, darling? Here, let me put the seat warmers on…"

"I'm fine, love. Honest." Henry stopped fidgeting with the dials and the pair locked eyes for a moment. She cleared her throat. "… Thanks for coming to get me. And I'm sorry, for all the… theatrics." He smiled softly.

"Don't be daft. I'm just glad you're alright."

"No, I mean it. I shouldn't have handled things the way I did or said--"

"Darling, it's alright. And I'm sorry too. You said you needed space and I should have listened." An idea then popped into Henry's head. He didn't know if he could pull it off, but he'd look into it the minute they got back. "Christ, have you ever seen so much traffic on these roads? I'm sorry, I'll try and get us home as quick as I can."

"Don't worry, I don't need to be back for nine."

"Oh? Okay, well we should still be back before ten." Henry shifted awkwardly in his seat. It was less than a week until Christmas and although he was desperate to know more, he wasn't about to risk asking questions.

"It's fine actually, I won't be working again until January. I've… decided to go freelance." There was a long pause.

"Ollie… did you lose your job?" She sighed.

"Not exactly. Do you remember that presentation I had to give?" He nodded eagerly, trying to balance his attention between her and the road. "Well, it was to suggest some better ways to balance the books… the company's bracing for recession. Anyway, afterward, my new boss thanked me for my 'little talk,' but said he'd decided just to merge my department instead. I could either take a pay cut or redundancy. I gave notice right there and then. The cheeky fucker even asked if he could take me out for a drink and see whether he could find something else for me." She sniffed hard and wiped her face.

"Oh, my darling…"

"No, it's fine. Really. I know someone else in the company who went freelance about a year ago. They've already let me know they're happy to help me get set up. It'll be tough at first and I'll need to be close to my client base… but in the long term I should have greater flexibility." She tried to smile convincingly but Henry could see the fear in her eyes. At that moment, her phone pinged.

"Well, I'll be here for you every step of the way. I'll always support— darling? What's wrong?" She quickly shut off the screen.

"I, uh… nothing. It's nothing."

"… Ollie, what's going on?" She swallowed back the lump forming in her throat.

"It's nothing, darling. I mean, nothing that's worth discussing at the moment." The rest of the journey home was silent.

***

Boxing Day

Things had more or less returned to normal and they spent a lovely, if hectic, couple of days with Henry's family. They travelled back late Christmas day night so they could spend Boxing Day together. They even waited to exchange gifts. It was a tradition they'd kept from the beginning of their relationship. No matter their plans over the holidays, Boxing Day was just for the two of them. And this year Ollie was more grateful for it than ever before. She wasn't normally awake before Henry, but she took the opportunity to curl into his chest and feel the warmth of his skin against her own. "Mmmm g'morning… do I take it I'm getting my Christmas present before breakfast?" He growled into her neck, the sensation making her squeal.

"Oh behave yourself, I was cold… that's all."

"Mm-hm, I believe ya…" Henry climbed on top of her, pulling down the waistband of her pants while he smothered her with kisses.

"Henry! S-stop it!" He harrumphed, collapsed on top of her, and buried his face in her neck. "Er… what are you doing?! Get off, I can't breathe!"

"You said you were cold so I'm keeping you warm! Mmmm you've got your baby smell…" Henry breathed deeply, refusing to budge. She sighed.

***

"Hey, wait a minute, where're my bloody presents?" Henry's nose had led him straight into the kitchen, where she was making a cooked breakfast. He then tried to lift a slice of bacon straight out of the frying pan, causing her to swat his hand.

"OW! I only wanted a nibble… am I to be starved of a Boxing Day morn as well?"

"Oh shut up. How many times do I have to tell you? No eating until I've plated up. And your presents are under the tree, santa obviously didn't check his list twice this year." Henry smirked and shuffled off into the living room. "Hey! No bloody peeking!"

***

"There you are my sweet boy, is that good?" She watched as Kal dived into the bowl of cooked giblets, smoothing down the knitted Christmas jumper she'd made for him, over his back.

"Hey, why does he get to have his presents before me?"

"Cos he's not a whiney little shit. That's why."

"Well, it's a good job I'm the forgiving sort. Heads up!" Henry lobbed a present straight at her, almost conking her on the head.

"Jesus Henry, you almost took me out!" But he just grinned and carried on munching away at some leftover toast.

"W-what… what’s this?" She opened the box to find a large, plastic magnifying glass.

"Well, you know how you're really vain and won't get glasses--"

"I'm vain?!?!"

"… I thought it might come in handy," Henry then reached over and clicked a button on the side, "see? It lights up and look, it even folds in half…"

"Oh? Well then you know where you can stick it…" He struggled to hold in his laughter.

"What? That's a lovely gift! I bet you didn’t put as much thought into mine…"

"Well why don't you open it and see? I'm tempted to throw it but I might strain my wrist…" Henry lifted the heavy box onto his lap.

"Christ, what did you get me?" He ripped away the paper.

"It's a Hollywood mirror, like the ones you get in your trailers. Now you can be the star of the show, even at home…" Henry rubbed his jaw, trying to hide his smile.

"Well, d'ya like it?" He nodded, still unable to look straight into her deadpan eyes. "Oh good. You got any more for me?" Henry pointed towards another box. She gasped the minute she opened it.

"You got me new headphones?! Oh, Henry… these must have cost a fortune!"

"Do you like them? They're proper noise-cancelling ones."

"So I don't have to listen to you anymore?! Oh my God, I love them! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" He chuckled.

"Well?!"

"Well, what?!"

"Where's my kiss?" She sighed and plonked herself next to him, pecking his fuzzy cheek. "Is that last one for me?" Henry eyed the final box beneath the tree. She gulped. Normally they promised only to buy each other a couple of joke presents. She reasoned that he spoiled her enough, even though they both knew that wasn't quite true. She'd never let Henry spend much money on her. She felt she had enough of her own and more to the point, it made her uncomfortable. But she hadn't anticipated the headphones. Uneasily, she watched as he ripped open the paper. Henry stared down at the gift for several moments. A boxset of Witcher books.

"I, er… thought you might want to double-check the source material." To this day, she didn't know how she managed to keep a straight face. He cleared his throat, put the books aside, and got to his feet. "What are you doing?"

"You've got a five-minute headstart."

***

Henry spent most of the next hour chasing her around the house, culminating in sex which lasted a further two. "Hey, do you remember our first Christmas?" He whispered eventually, his body still wrapped around her own.

"Mmm, you mean where you broke the oven door checking on the turkey?"

"I was just seeing if it was done!"

"… Or to make sure it was cooking evenly."

"Well what can I say, I'd yet to fully appreciate your culinary prowess. I think even my mum's turkey can't beat yours."

"It did that year." Henry chuckled. "But thanks for the bargaining chip. I've got something to hold over you now if ever you should cross me…"

"Ollie, look at me." She turned her head. "You've got to learn to be more forgiving…" She swatted him on the arm. "Right, come on, we can’t lay here all day."

"Oh, I thought you'd want another round?"

"Always. But come on, get dressed and then meet me in the car."

"Why? Are you throwing me out? On Boxing Day?! Oh, Henry. It was only some books." Henry ignored her deadpan face.

"Well, as deserved as that might be, it's actually so I can give you your last gift. Just put together a bag of any extra stuff you want to bring, your clothes are already packed."

"What d'ya mean? Where are we going?"

"You'll see. Come on, shift it." He spanked her backside and pulled her out of bed.

"Well hang on, I better get some knickers as well. I know you won't have packed them." Henry smirked.

***

She jogged downstairs, her rucksack already on her back, only to find Henry still in the living room. "Oh no, don't tell me the car won’t start? Didn't you only just fill it up?" The look on his face was unreadable and his arms remained crossed. "Henry, what is it?"

"Your mum just phoned." A pit opened in her stomach. "She's been trying to get hold of you since Monday. Your father’s been moved into end of life care."

"Yes, I know." She dropped her rucksack to the floor and began rooting around it, more for something to do at that moment than anything else.

"Apparently he's been sick for a while."

“I only found out last month."

"… And you didn't think to tell me?" She moved her chargers to another pocket, concerned they'd scratch her tablet. "Ollie?"

"What, Henry?" She snapped back up, exasperation now lacing her voice. He had to tread carefully.

"Why didn't you say anything?!" She sighed.

"Because you'd just given me the promise ring and found out you were playing Superman again! Things were so happy that I wanted to wait, but then they told you they were recasting, and after that came Christmas. When exactly was I meant to tell you?!"

"Don't make excuses Ollie, there's never a right moment for that sort of news and you know it. I mean I knew something was wrong, but I never suspected it was this. You've spent all this time with it weighing on you, and for what? If it was my father you wouldn't have been able to do enough for me!"

"Your Dad's not like mine!" She tried desperately to hold back her tears. Henry rushed towards her. "No, stop! I’m okay, really."

"For God's sake, stop it! No, you're not. None of this is okay! Is that where you were Friday? What the hell did he say to you?!" Relief washed over her. At least her mother hadn't told him that much.

"Nothing, we said our goodbyes and parted peacefully. I was just exhausted by the time I got back, it was a bloody long day."

"Stop lying to me, Ollie. And why aren't you talking to your mum? You can't just cut off your family— "

"Henry, enough. I'm not discussing it. Today's supposed to be our day." Henry sighed and bowed his head.

"… I just wish that, for once, you could trust me enough to be honest. That's all." He kissed her forehead, picked up her rucksack, and headed out the door.

***

For the first half an hour, the journey was mostly silent. Eventually, she couldn't stand it anymore. "I'm sorry, okay? I hate that part of my life, and I didn't want any more of it bleeding into everything we've built together--"

"Ollie, you never have to hide anything from me!"

"Just let me finish. I thought I was protecting us from all of it but… clearly not. So, in the new year, I'm gunna get some help."

"What, you mean like… therapy? Darling, I'm not going anywhere, surely you know that?"

"It's not just for us, I need some help trying to process everything better as well." Henry's heart sank.

"Okay… but please know that I'm here for you. I mean it Ollie, there's nothing you can't talk to me about. Will you let me pay for the sessions? What else can I do?"

"My savings will cover it, darling. And you do enough for me, you always have." Another silence descended over the car.

***

After an hour and a half, they finally arrived at a little cottage, perched along with its neighbour in the corner of a meadow that rolled down to a private beach. "Oh my God, is that the sea?!" Ollie clasped her hands together in delight. Henry just smiled, grabbed their bags, and led her into one of the most beautiful living rooms she'd ever seen. Low oak beams and a large, roaring fireplace framed the neatly whitewashed walls, all currently adorned with holly and ivy. "So… first impressions?"

"It's beautiful," She ducked in and out of the other rooms, her excitement only growing, "I could stay here forever!" His smile grew wider.

"Well that's lucky… cos it's yours." Henry winged a set of keys right at her, the shock of what he'd just said almost causing her to drop them.

"You what?!"

"I've still got some paperwork to sign, but it's yours darling."

"I, I…" She fell to the sofa, struggling to comprehend what was happening. He gently took a seat beside her. "Henry… you can't buy me a house!"

"Why not?" She jumped to her feet and quickly started pacing about.

"Because it's too much! We already have a lovely house! Oh my God, it must have cost the earth, at least me pay half--" Henry climbed to his feet and rubbed her shoulders in a vain attempt to calm her down.

"You're not paying a bloody penny. Consider it our holiday home if you must, but I wanted you to have a place to go when you need space. I know you find being at home tough when I'm away, so this can be a change of scenery. You love the sea and I'll feel a lot better if I know you're safe and comfortable here. And don't worry, there's a lovely older couple next door, they've already told me they're happy to help look after the place when we're gone." She was so overwhelmed she couldn’t speak. He wiped the tears from her eyes and cradled her face, "will you please accept it?" She dashed back into the hallway and Henry could hear the unzipping of her rucksack.

"… Only if you accept this. It doesn't quite compare to a house, but I hope you'll like it all the same."

"You got me a Christmas card?" She ignored his deadpan face and snatched back the envelope. She then took a deep breath.

“Henry William - and one I still can't pronounce - Cavill. You live to irritate me," Henry's look of confusion was replaced by a set of pursed lips, "you somehow manage to make more mess than Kal, as well as shed twice as much hair--"

"Is this actually leading somewhere?"

"And I'll be amazed if I don't lose all of my hair by the time you lose the rest of yours. All that being said, I don't want to miss another second of any of it, ever again. Will you marry me?"

"… What?" His voice was small and confused.

"I said, will you marry me?!" Henry blinked a few times and took a couple of steps back, rubbing his forehead as he chuckled.

"Are you serious?" She nodded eagerly. "No… you want to marry me? For real?!"

"Yes!" He then rushed towards her. Before she knew it, she was in a fireman's lift being wildly spun about while Henry whooped and cheered at the top of his lungs. Poor Kal could only bark in confusion.

"HENRY! P-PUT ME DOWNNN!" By the time he stood her upright, she was close to falling down. Henry grabbed then her cheeks, which gradually helped the room stop spinning.

"Are you sure though, darling? You were adamant about not getting married. You're not just doing it because, well… I mean a lot's going on at the moment."

"Henry, whether it be love or demonic possession, I truly wish to marry you--"

"But you're not just asking because I bought the house, are you? Are these actually Playstation vouchers?" He picked up the envelope that had dropped to the floor in all the chaos.

"Oh… I thought you wanted Xbox ones?" Henry's mouth fell open, causing her to snicker. "Why don't you just open it?" He eyed her suspiciously before tearing open the envelope. "As I was the one to propose, I thought you'd probably want to pick out the rings. So… is that a yes then?" Henry's vision blurred as he looked down at the invitation for a fitting at a bespoke jeweller.

"Henry?!" She wiped the tears that spilled down his face as he nodded.

"… But what about our promise rings?"

"Well, they can be our engagement rings." Henry chewed his lip, still struggling to believe what was happening.

"So are you going to be a 'Mrs?' And take my last name?"

"Mm-hm."

"Are you gunna wear a dress?"

"Mm-hm."

"Can I call you 'wife,' now? All the time?"

"Mmm… let's say twice a day. Once in the morning and once at night. And only after we're married."

"Okay well let's circle back to that… can we have guests? Not too many but a few? Where are we going to have it? And when?!" His face was so eager and bright that she couldn't help but smile.

"Well… this place looks like it's got a nice little garden. Why don't we have it out there as soon as the weather's warmer? We could then go back to ours and have a garden party, that way more people could attend afterward--" Henry quickly pulled her into a tight hug.

"… You don't have to do this just to make me happy." She smiled against the middle of his chest, the weight of his arms around her only adding to her comfort.

"I'm doing it because of how happy you make me, you silly sod."

"I love you, my darling."

"Right up until you leave more for an eighteen-year-old?" Henry tutted.

"Look at me, I'm not going anywhere. How could I ever leave my wally Ollie?"

"But what if my arse gets bigger?"

"… How big are we talking?" She bopped him on the arm. "Well I suppose I can always have the doors widened," she rolled her eyes, "don't worry! As you said, I won't have much hair left by then, no one else will want me." She sighed. "I love you, my darling."

"And I, you. Fuck knows why."

"Well, maybe this'll also help. I'm not leaving in January."

"What? Why?! You said I could have this place to myself!" Henry roared with laughter.

"I thought you'd be pleased!"

"Well… I suppose. But what happened?"

"Filming got pushed back." She eyed him warily.

"Henry--"

"Darling, I want to be with you--"

"But you can't just turn down work! What will--" Henry gently clamped his hand over her mouth.

"Ah, much better. Now, are you gunna say it back or what?" She shoved his hand away.

"Say what, you arch idiot?"

"You know what!" She sighed again.

"I love you too. There, happy?" Henry tilted her chin and kissed her deeply.

"More than any man on God's green earth."

To be updated on when I post please follow @resowrites and turn on post notifications.

@marytudorbrandon @luclittlepond @fanfictionaddiction99 @caffeinatedfestivalsheep

[smolweeblets]

Get Good

Hana "D.Va" Song x Reader

Its quite a mystery how youve dated D.va for this long without playing a single game with her. Although she's been pestering you about it for a while, you never really took her up on it. It wasnt like you outwardly didnt want to play with her, it was just that you did not know how to play the games she liked. It was all just too stressful, they required too much thinking for your taste.

Alas, today was the day you found yourself finally caving in. There really was no question that this would happen eventually. Hana’s persuasion tactics were always top-tier, and this has been a game shes been excited about for a long time.

Her persuasion was so good that she managed to get you two to play together on stream. Youve been in a few of her streams while she gamed before, so it really didn't make all that much of a difference to you. She got you your own setup beside her own, so you both could monitor and respond to chat, since they were quite fond of you.

Youve always joked that Hana only wanted you there because her streams got a few thousand more views when you were there. She genuinely did just want you to be there to watch her, seeing as when you were there, chat was usually ignored in favor of talking to you.

And so the stream was set, she even announced that this stream stream would be a special one with you in it beforehand. Her fans were pumped, and so was she, constantly showering you in love and affection after you agreed.

Admittedly, you were a little nervous, you knew nothing about these games, but Hana reassured you that it would be okay. She was going to learn about that game for the first time as well, she said. So you both would be in it together.

What you failed to remember was that Hana is an already seasoned gamer, so picking these things up were second nature for her, while you were stuck learning the basics 30 minutes in.

Eventually, she got a little impatient, and decided that you two should enter a match already. You tried to protest, but seeing that everyone in chat agreed, you just rolled along with it. You figured if you fail miserably at something it would just be clipped and be a small meme. That was something you could live with.

“You ready babe?” Hana held your hand and grinned, causing chat to move at a dizzying speed. It almost gave you motion sickness with how fast it was going.

“Yeah, at least I hope so” You chuckle as the game loaded.

For first few rounds you were always the first to die. You apologized profusely after each death, and Hana waved it off, albeit seeming tense as you were practically giving the enemy team free resources.

“Im so sorry Hana! I swear ill take better cover next time-” You sheepishly apologized.

“Its fine babe, but man. You really are trash at this” She chuckled. Chat agreed with her, telling you to get good and start contributing to your team.

Oh.

You werent expecting that to sting so much. It was true of course, but in a way you couldnt explain it just… hurt.

Nevertheless, you shook off the comment. It was nothing to get upset over, Hana was just stating facts. You tried your hardest to hide the awkwardness in your chuckle, it seemed you were successful as Hana had her game face back on.

She made you want to jump right back into it yourself, motivated to do better. You avoided looking at chat for the moment, knowing they probably were just going to get you down. You focused on the game, putting in your all. It was effective, it seemed your team was actually winning this time, and your kills werent zero!

Hana congratulated you with every elimination, finally giving you a small feeling of accomplishment.

But alas, disaster had to strike sometime. Apparently, the opposite team had a hacker, and even though Hana could eliminate them, she was killed in turn. Of course, this lead the gamer to be triggered for the rest of the match.

There was only one person left on the opposing team. You were so close to winning!

Only problem being, you were the last one alive. Hana watched your screen like a hawk. Pointing and micromanaging everything you did. Chat could see everything you did through the spectate on Hanas screen. God, this almost felt more stressful than your finals, and those were no joke.

Hana failed to notice your trembling hands and the beads of sweat rolling down your face. She was too busy watching your screen, chastising you for every mistake you made. You tried your best to follow her instructions, harsh as they were.

“To the gate babe!! We're almost there!” Hana putting down her headset to stand behind you did nothing to help your stress. It didnt matter, you were almost finished here.

You were by the final objective, oh so close to success. You started activating the final task, at the final few percent until Hana suddenly screams at you to take cover. It was too late, Hanas loud voice in your ear amidst your already stressed state caused you to panic and react late.

You died. Hana punched the back of your seat in frustration.

“I'm really sorry, maybe I should just-” You set down your headset on the desk and looked to Hana apologetically.

Hana held her face in her hands, grumbling something incoherent. You could also see chat complaining out of the corner of your eye.

“Yeah, I'm sorry to say but you should probably hop off before you cause me to lose any more matches. Even my skill isn't enough to carry you.” She seethed, although not directly at you.

Still, it made you feel like absolute shit. You didn't even know why, everything she said was true.

“Yeah, uh, sorry chat, I'm gonna take my leave now, you guys have fun! I'll be in the other room if you need me” You tried your best to sound unaffected. Who were you kidding, you sounded like you were on the verge of tears.

And yet, Hana still didn't notice. Quickly switching her personality again and apologizing for the delay. She went right back into the rhythm of things, smiling and winning each game after.

It really wasn't all that serious, there was no reason to be upset. She knew that you had little to no skill or knowledge in these things. And you always knew Hana had the tendency to get a little rowdy with bad teammates. You sighed. No use in thinking about it now, best to just sleep it off.

And so you did, only awakening when you felt a dip in the bed, signifying the stream was finally done and Hana was set to lay in bed and take a break.

She sees your barely open eyes and looks sheepish.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” She crawls over to you slowly.

“No, it's fine.” You smile half-heartedly.

A moment passes before you decide to ask. “Did the stream go well?”

“Yeah! It was even easier than usual because everyone was still getting used to the game! Was a little boring though, so the stream was shorter than usual!” Hana beams. It brings a gentle smile to your face.

“I'm kinda sad you didn't stay for long though, you could've still watched even if you weren't playing.” Hana pouts as she starts to cuddle with you. Her arms resting on top of you and her face digging into your back.

“Oh, well… sorry.” A moment passes before you awkwardly continue. “... About that, uh there's something I want to share…” You trail off.

Hana gives a hum of acknowledgement into your shoulder. “Yeah? What is it?”

“Well… its sort of silly but… the way you called me bad earlier kinda hurt?” Your voice is laced with borderline embarrassment. Embarrassment that you were actually really affected by such seemingly simple words.

Hanas face is confused before she fully registers your words.

“Is that so!? I'm really sorry babe! You know how I get sometimes, I just get a little carried away–which is still no excuse at all! I'm really sorry I should have know–nh!” She was interrupted by your hand over her mouth.

“Hana, I appreciate the enthusiasm but you can tone it down a bit-” You wince at the memory of how fast she was talking.

She calms down quickly at your touch and takes a moment to compose herself. You let out a sigh of relief and smile gently at her.

“Sorry… uh, so you wanna talk about it?” She hesitantly offers.

“Yeah, but not really much to talk about… it just kinda stung when you insulted me, even if it was true–” You avert your gaze, seemingly finding a newfound interest in the wall right behind Hana.

“I'm so sorry you had to feel that way– I really should have known better!” You look down to see Hana frowning. It melts you a little inside. Just a little.

“It's okay Hana… Just letting you know for next time, yeah?” You smile softly while you gently pet her hair.

“Yeah, I'm really so sorry! Please stay on my streams though, you being there means everything to me!” Hana hugs you tightly.

“Of course! But I won't be playing anything just to be safe… unless youre going to play minecraft or something, now thats a game I can handle”

“Yay! Sorry again but thanks for not hating me! I really do get carried away sometimes–” Hana smiled sheepishly while she buried her face into your arm, causing you to chuckle quietly.

“Yeah, I know, it's something I knew dating you, just shocked me a little when directed at me is all” You sigh, relieved to finally get that out of your system.

Hana suddenly climbs on top of you and straddles you. She had the eyes of determination you found yourself swooning over very often. “I am going to spoil you so bad as an apology. Get ready for all the love and affection I can muster in me. It's a lot.”

“Oh god…”

A/n: Yep, im an overwatch writer now.

This was originally much angstier in my head but decided against it lolsies